One post a month for the last few months.
That's just sad, as though I have no ability to think for myself anymore.

Well, I apologize. The things which I know I should do (like take time for my own thoughts) I do not do. And those things I do not want to do, I do. Oh wretched man that I am. Who will save me from this?

Today I taught my first two classes -
and nobody walked out. So that's good!

Despite my being drained from talking all morning and tired from not sleeping much the last couple days, I felt some strong feelings of fulfillment, which are always nice when you find them. Grace for the everyday (no, not you Gracie) - that fulfills me. When I find grace in those small tasks, I try to slow everything inside of me down just enough to open a space inside where I can fully accept that grace. I try to wait long enough to let the grace enlarge and then connect with the larger streams of God's graceful actions in the world. And when I do, I find that God visits that space inside myself. I think of that space as the place where God inhabits the praises of God's people. It happens also when I am able to open that space inside during a worship service at church. As that space opens, I feel myself being drawn into the ongoing praises of all creation. Sometimes when I pray, for others -usually not when I pray for myself, I feel that space inside open. And God comes. And simple prayers are drenched and then overflow with grace. And they are no longer my prayers, but begin to drown in the groaning of all creation for its Maker.

BLACK PEOPLE AT CHURCH!!!

Last Sunday our church hosted a dinner/celebration for diversity. It was quite a wonderful event. We had been telling Risa about the two parties we would be attending that weekend, one Friday night and one on Sunday night. She asks a lot of questions, so we had to explain to her what he parties were all about, what they were for, who would be there . . . etc . . .

Sunday morning, on the way to church she was asking again about the party that night, and we were explaining again the purpose of the party - "to celebrate our differences," we said. "Some people have red hair, like you, and some people have blond hair like Mom," I noted. Robin added, "Some people are black and some people are white." I continued, "Some people have elephants as pets, and some people smell really funny."

We got into the service and began singing worship songs. After about two songs I heard Risa saying "Daddy, Daddy." I looked down and she was pointing to the people down the row from us and added with a tremendous look of pride as though she'd solved a great puzzle, "Look! Black people!"

I smiled gently and returned to singing. When it was time for the offering, the pastor prayed, a girl came on stage and everyone was waiting for the music to start. Risa, confirming her new-found knowledge, again pointed and said louldy, "She's a black girl."

Well, by that time, I'd had enough. So I promptly picked her up, took her out to the lobby and laid a whooping on her! Can you believe her? Racist.

For Mom

Here's an email I sent to my mom recently.
I've decided to make it a more public thank you.

"Hey Mom.

I'm writing to let you know about something I've been thinking about lately - trust. I've always been astounded, even as a teenager, by your ability to trust. First it was your ability to trust God that I saw. You were my model, obviously, in trusting God in the face of the difficulties of Dad's accident. That trust in God then blossommed out into all areas of my life. I was also amazed at how you trusted God with our well-being - allowing us to experience life in wonderful ways, on motorcycles, skateboards and the like. I later discovered, especially in college, that you had an unusual ability to trust me, whether in dealings with money or encouraging me to go to Israel for a semester. I have always coveted that trust, holding it close to my heart, not wanting to break it.

I'm not sure why, but I've been thinking a lot about trust the last week, and I've been grateful (toward you) as I've found myself to be a rather trusting person. Our world is full of fearfulness, whether it be of what someone will think of us or concerns about money, and trust seems to be a rare commodity. We are encouraged to be so careful with everyone and to get everything in writing. I think it's a horrible way to live, though - constantly in worry about everything. I find it debilitating.

So I'm writing to thank you for teaching me how to trust, for letting me experience trust. In a world of very unstable marriages, I have no difficulty trusting Robin. Concerning difficult life choices about raising children and prusuing a PhD and finding a job (or two), I have little difficulty trusting God. I see people in the parking lot at the grocery store whose glances flutter about themselves hoping to catch some danger in the act of destroying their lives. Yet I find myself able to close my eyes for the last few steps to the car, and take a deep breath, and pause, and imagine the flight of the birds that I hear in the distance, and know that God knows their actual flight. Then I open my eyes and begin to put the kids in the car and the groceries away as an even deeper breath comes with the realization of how much more . . .

Thank you for modelling trust to me."

O'Connor quotes for the day -

"It seems to be a fact that you have to suffer as much from the Church as for it but if you believe in the divinity of Christ, you have to cherish the world at the same time you struggle to endure it."

"It was a case in which it is easy to see that the moral sense has been bred out of certain sections of the population, like the wings have been bred off certain chickens to produce more white meat. This is a generation of wingless chickens, which I suppose is what Nietzsche meant when he said God was dead."

 

Our new Home. 

 

 

 

 

 

Job

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

:)

I got the job.