You know, there's nothing like a little upheaval in your life - say, losing a job of eleven-and-a-half years - to shift your perspective around on things. And my perspective has certainly shifted on many things. Some of them have been good shifts, even exciting shifts - but not all of them. Some have been painful and some have been exhausting. And some shifts I've had to wrestle to the ground and shove out the door. A few times. It's given me a lot to think about...
Thing that bugs me is that I apparently dare not discuss it in any public forum - at least not in any depth. People these days are so freaked out about what a potential employer is going to dig up and use as a reason to reject them as a candidate. Thing about it is, I really don't have much dirt to dig up. I'm not saying I've lived my life as an angel - who has? But I'm pretty transparent when it comes to who I am and where I've been. I don't run around spewing life details to strangers, but if you want to know something about me, usually all you have to do is ask.
Still, one of the things I learned in those 11+ years of working in communications in a church is this: communication is a two-way process. It always, and I mean ALWAYS consists of what is being said and what is being heard. There's the message, and there's the interpretation of that message, and the interpretation is always seen through the lens of the preconceptions of the receiving party. Lenses that, more often than not, we are not even aware we're wearing. I've seen plenty of situations where those lenses skew messages almost beyond recognition.
So I guess in that light, I'll be keeping my thoughts to myself for a while. Maybe some day they'll make some interesting entries in this little corner of blogdom...
Friday, July 20, 2012
Thursday, November 03, 2011
I'm generally not one to over-spiritualize things, but it certainly seems as though God has been talking to me the last couple of days. Or maybe I've just been listening more...
Yesterday it was Isaiah 43 that wouldn't get out of my mind. It was ricocheting around in there like an angry bee until I went and looked up the passage and read it. Turns out it was something that I needed to hear, and more importantly, later that day, it became something a close friend of mine needed to hear as well - perhaps even more than I did.
Today, it was this passage:
Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour..." 1 Peter 5:8
The thing that's ringing like a bell, though, is not the usual focus of that passage - to be vigilant, or that Satan wants to "devour" anyone he can. No, the thing that is shining through the fog in my head this morning is his modus operandi - his tactics, and what specifically those tactics are intended to accomplish.
It's fairly straight forward. For the sake of the illustration, imagine a lion sitting right in front of you, roaring in your face. I can guarantee two things: One, you would be flustered at best, probably even panicked - unable to think clearly, and two, you would have a very hard time hearing anything else over the racket.
Since you've made it this far in my ramblings, I'm going to ask you to consider another passage (one of my all-time favorites) that was in my head yesterday - 1 Kings 19:11-13:
The LORD said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"
A Gentle Whisper. What are the chances I would hear a gentle whisper if my focus is on a lion roaring in my face? Slim. But what if that gentle whisper is telling me a greater truth - that I have nothing to fear because I belong to One far greater, and that further, if I stand my ground in faith, the lion will actually retreat?
God is the author of all truth, and Satan does no want us to hear any of it. His whole goal is to separate us from God, and keep us from hearing, much less believing, anything God has to say.
I've been letting the roaring in my face - from the world, from my worries, from my fears, perhaps even my desires - be my focus far too much lately. I need to make more of an effort to listen to the Gentle Whisper.
Yesterday it was Isaiah 43 that wouldn't get out of my mind. It was ricocheting around in there like an angry bee until I went and looked up the passage and read it. Turns out it was something that I needed to hear, and more importantly, later that day, it became something a close friend of mine needed to hear as well - perhaps even more than I did.
Today, it was this passage:
Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour..." 1 Peter 5:8
The thing that's ringing like a bell, though, is not the usual focus of that passage - to be vigilant, or that Satan wants to "devour" anyone he can. No, the thing that is shining through the fog in my head this morning is his modus operandi - his tactics, and what specifically those tactics are intended to accomplish.
It's fairly straight forward. For the sake of the illustration, imagine a lion sitting right in front of you, roaring in your face. I can guarantee two things: One, you would be flustered at best, probably even panicked - unable to think clearly, and two, you would have a very hard time hearing anything else over the racket.
Since you've made it this far in my ramblings, I'm going to ask you to consider another passage (one of my all-time favorites) that was in my head yesterday - 1 Kings 19:11-13:
The LORD said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"
A Gentle Whisper. What are the chances I would hear a gentle whisper if my focus is on a lion roaring in my face? Slim. But what if that gentle whisper is telling me a greater truth - that I have nothing to fear because I belong to One far greater, and that further, if I stand my ground in faith, the lion will actually retreat?
God is the author of all truth, and Satan does no want us to hear any of it. His whole goal is to separate us from God, and keep us from hearing, much less believing, anything God has to say.
I've been letting the roaring in my face - from the world, from my worries, from my fears, perhaps even my desires - be my focus far too much lately. I need to make more of an effort to listen to the Gentle Whisper.
Friday, October 14, 2011
A moment of clarity...
A thought that occurred to me at Starbucks this week:
The atheist can deny the existence of God, and therefore the need for a 'savior' of any kind, and then spend the rest of his (or her) life trying to explain the imperfection and fallibility of his nature and the world he lives in by constructing a framework of psychological and behavioral theories explaining his/our actions.
But if he's honest, he will also wonder at why, in the face of ever increasing 'understanding' of the human animal, it's still so hard for the individual, much less the culture, to really change thoughts, habits and perceptions - particularly the destructive ones. There will never be redemption in this model, so/because the word cannot be allowed to have any deeper meaning in this model. Stated another way, if there is no possibility of redemption (because God, and therefore redemption do not exist), then there cannot be a need for redemption - otherwise, the whole thing falls apart.
In the face of my own imperfection and weakness, however, I choose to embrace the need for a Savior, as it is the only feasible answer I have found that will hold up to the onslaught of so many unanswerable questions about who we are, how we got here, and where we're going. It makes my own inconsistent ability to fully understand or meaningfully change my own thoughts or behaviors - much less the world I live in - secondary to the provision and sovereignty of a God that, admittedly, I cannot fully comprehend. Regardless, in His own incomprehensibility, He has provided the answer that I can not...
The atheist can deny the existence of God, and therefore the need for a 'savior' of any kind, and then spend the rest of his (or her) life trying to explain the imperfection and fallibility of his nature and the world he lives in by constructing a framework of psychological and behavioral theories explaining his/our actions.
But if he's honest, he will also wonder at why, in the face of ever increasing 'understanding' of the human animal, it's still so hard for the individual, much less the culture, to really change thoughts, habits and perceptions - particularly the destructive ones. There will never be redemption in this model, so/because the word cannot be allowed to have any deeper meaning in this model. Stated another way, if there is no possibility of redemption (because God, and therefore redemption do not exist), then there cannot be a need for redemption - otherwise, the whole thing falls apart.
In the face of my own imperfection and weakness, however, I choose to embrace the need for a Savior, as it is the only feasible answer I have found that will hold up to the onslaught of so many unanswerable questions about who we are, how we got here, and where we're going. It makes my own inconsistent ability to fully understand or meaningfully change my own thoughts or behaviors - much less the world I live in - secondary to the provision and sovereignty of a God that, admittedly, I cannot fully comprehend. Regardless, in His own incomprehensibility, He has provided the answer that I can not...
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wondering tonight - if one cannot move forward without leaving something behind, does that also mean that loss brings forward motion?
I have to ask that in general terms, because I can think of situations where, in the face of loss, a person could resist forward motion. Or can they?
Every time a person suffers loss, they are thrust into a new existence, like it or not.
I think the rest of my thoughts on this tonight are going to stay in my head...
I have to ask that in general terms, because I can think of situations where, in the face of loss, a person could resist forward motion. Or can they?
Every time a person suffers loss, they are thrust into a new existence, like it or not.
I think the rest of my thoughts on this tonight are going to stay in my head...
Monday, November 08, 2010
Nothing like driving past a dead body in the next lane to slap you back to reality in the morning.
Unidentified man jumped from the tallest span of the interchange at US-75 and US-635 this morning. And apparently the police need bigger blankets in their squad cars.
I want to feel sorry for the guy, and I guess maybe I do just a little, but at the same time, beyond the fact that he chose to kill himself period, the fact that he decided to do it in such a public, dramatic fashion - and by doing so put others at mortal risk - tempers my sympathy quite a bit.
As I passed the scene, I was aware of an odd sensation, though. One that I had not experienced before. It was the stark juxtaposition of this lump of protein laying in the middle of the highway that used to be a person - one who came to the conclusion that life was not worth living - against the now-tangible and brightly burning sense of life and potential and future that was emanating from the little girl strapped into the child seat behind me. I swear, it felt so real I wouldn't have been surprised if it had started casting shadows in the car...
I remember thinking "Lord, please don't let her see that..." I didn't want her to have to wrestle with (or ask me) the questions that come from the sight of a corpse. Questions that seem particularly empowered when death invades the normal, day-to-day routine of our life to slap us in the face with our own mortality. Not yet. Thankfully, that prayer seems to have been answered in the affirmative.
Now I get to carry the image of the body-almost-under-the-blanket for a while. That which has been seen cannot be unseen. And if you know me, you know I'll be running all of the implications of the scene through my head for some time. Lovely. Welcome to the week!
Unidentified man jumped from the tallest span of the interchange at US-75 and US-635 this morning. And apparently the police need bigger blankets in their squad cars.
I want to feel sorry for the guy, and I guess maybe I do just a little, but at the same time, beyond the fact that he chose to kill himself period, the fact that he decided to do it in such a public, dramatic fashion - and by doing so put others at mortal risk - tempers my sympathy quite a bit.
As I passed the scene, I was aware of an odd sensation, though. One that I had not experienced before. It was the stark juxtaposition of this lump of protein laying in the middle of the highway that used to be a person - one who came to the conclusion that life was not worth living - against the now-tangible and brightly burning sense of life and potential and future that was emanating from the little girl strapped into the child seat behind me. I swear, it felt so real I wouldn't have been surprised if it had started casting shadows in the car...
I remember thinking "Lord, please don't let her see that..." I didn't want her to have to wrestle with (or ask me) the questions that come from the sight of a corpse. Questions that seem particularly empowered when death invades the normal, day-to-day routine of our life to slap us in the face with our own mortality. Not yet. Thankfully, that prayer seems to have been answered in the affirmative.
Now I get to carry the image of the body-almost-under-the-blanket for a while. That which has been seen cannot be unseen. And if you know me, you know I'll be running all of the implications of the scene through my head for some time. Lovely. Welcome to the week!
Monday, November 01, 2010
Last night was my little girl's first Halloween to go trick-or-treating. Met up with some friends and went as a group and a good time was had by all, but I gotta tell you - Halloween is certainly not what it was when I was a kid. I'm not going to waste a lot of time here bemoaning the changing times or waxing nostalgic. Times change, that's the way it is, that's the way it has always been - deal with it. And generally speaking, nostalgia gets pretty annoying pretty quickly for everybody except the person being nostalgic. No, I just kinda want to ask - to no one in particular except the people to whom the question will apply:
WHAT THE HECK??
First off, if you are in High School, and are not there because you are a freakishly intelligent ten-year-old that jumped ahead in school somewhere, then you are too old to be Trick-or-Treating. And I'm definitely being generous, here. You're easily old enough to get a job and go buy your own dang candy. If you must go out anyway, don't push the little kids out of the way to get to the candy at the door. If there's a bowl of self-serve candy just sitting on the porch, just take one or two - pieces, not handfuls. People already suspect you're an ass - doing things like that will just prove it. You also run the risk of causing a tired, grouchy parental unit to go ballistic and stuff you into your own candy sack. Fair warning...
Second - Hello - Parents? Little kids should not be dressed as pimps, hos, or anything gory and dead. I'll make a partial exception on that last one for the time-honored skeleton or ghost costume, but if there's splattered blood involved, you're over the line. A) Pimps and hos - come on - do I really have to explain this one?? Sex is going to be a difficult enough subject in the not-too-distant future of your child's life - don't throw mud in the water now. Let them swim around as long as possible in what little innocence this world allows them to keep, 'cause once it's gone, it's gone, and it never comes back. B) Gory dead things. Want to play around with that stuff and laugh about it when they're older? Make fun of death and show how tough you are in the face of what would otherwise be shocking? Fine. But on a child? Come on. Some would argue that I'm being too serious here, but look at it this way. Ask any front-line vet, first-responder, police officer or paramedic just how funny death is, to say nothing of bloody messes. Once you've seen the real thing, it ain't funny - ever again. Everybody will have to deal with death sooner or later - let the children just be alive for now. 'Nuff said...
I would like, however, to reinstall my sense of humor now, because there is a wide swath of the American culture that seems to have completely lost theirs when it comes to Halloween...
I remember going to an all-out Halloween party in the basement of our church back when I was about 5 or 6 - dressed as a little red devil, to boot. And I wasn't the only one - other scary costumes abounded. These days most churches wouldn't dream of doing a Halloween ANYTHING. They have to be called something like, oh, I don't know, harvest festivals, or something like that (inside joke - sorry!), as though by renaming it, everybody forgets that it wouldn't be taking place at the end of October were it not for the fact that Halloween does too. The 'good Christian watchdogs' snoot down their noses at all things Halloween just as fast as they do about other topics that are far more controversial and that exert far more influence on our culture and country than one silly, spooky night. They cite reasons like the origins of the event, or what other people do to 'celebrate' the day and how Christians should be setting a better example.
The thing that befuddles me is that, in their self-righteous clucking they seem to conveniently ignore the discussions on the origins of Easter and Christmas as well. While both holidays are - in perception, at the very least - "Christian holidays," neither are, in any direct sense, scriptural. Some have argued that their respective dates were chosen to "Christianize" pagan festivals (although that theory is far from being 'the gospel truth' - so to speak). Whatever the origins, when my family comes together for Christmas and decorates, exchanges gifts, whatever - we do so to celebrate family and the good news of the birth of a Savior. A Savior who told us to live life abundantly, by the way - not in fear. By exchanging gifts, we are not celebrating the crass commercialism so prevalent in our Capitalistic culture, nor are we attempting to draw attention away from Jesus and toward Santa by reading "Twas the Night Before Christmas." Similarly, we may decorate and hide eggs or share the occasional chocolate bunny on Easter, but we are not performing some ancient fertility rite by doing so. The day is about remembering what Christ accomplished and the promise that comes with it - the rest is just having a little fun along the way. To round out the thought, as we were going from door to door last night, I promise you the topic of Samhain never came up, and at no point in the evening did I feel anything resembling an urge to sacrifice something to appease the spirits - whatever that means.
I suppose my point is this: Not everybody celebrates Halloween, or Christmas, or Easter - or whatever - in a way that I would, nor even necessarily in a way that I would find non-offensive. That fact is never going to change. But their method of celebration does not define mine. Have the fall festival - by all means - just don't pretend Halloween isn't there, or is somehow inherently evil. Other people may celebrate it in evil or misguided ways, but responding by simply disappearing or complaining won't change that, and if all we can focus on is those evil, misguided people and practices, we will actually wind up giving them more power - not taking it away. Besides, quite frankly, I don't give a rip about the origins of the celebrations. It's a little bit of interesting ancient history, and that's it.
And just for good measure, not every celebration has to be about some event in Jesus' life. Were that the case, throw out birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, etc... Want to set a good example? Fine. But "taking your ball and going home" and spitting at the people that still want to play is NOT setting a good example.
Hope everybody had a fun, safe, and happy Halloween. Looking forward to Turkey Day - uh - I Mean, Thanksgiving...
WHAT THE HECK??
First off, if you are in High School, and are not there because you are a freakishly intelligent ten-year-old that jumped ahead in school somewhere, then you are too old to be Trick-or-Treating. And I'm definitely being generous, here. You're easily old enough to get a job and go buy your own dang candy. If you must go out anyway, don't push the little kids out of the way to get to the candy at the door. If there's a bowl of self-serve candy just sitting on the porch, just take one or two - pieces, not handfuls. People already suspect you're an ass - doing things like that will just prove it. You also run the risk of causing a tired, grouchy parental unit to go ballistic and stuff you into your own candy sack. Fair warning...
Second - Hello - Parents? Little kids should not be dressed as pimps, hos, or anything gory and dead. I'll make a partial exception on that last one for the time-honored skeleton or ghost costume, but if there's splattered blood involved, you're over the line. A) Pimps and hos - come on - do I really have to explain this one?? Sex is going to be a difficult enough subject in the not-too-distant future of your child's life - don't throw mud in the water now. Let them swim around as long as possible in what little innocence this world allows them to keep, 'cause once it's gone, it's gone, and it never comes back. B) Gory dead things. Want to play around with that stuff and laugh about it when they're older? Make fun of death and show how tough you are in the face of what would otherwise be shocking? Fine. But on a child? Come on. Some would argue that I'm being too serious here, but look at it this way. Ask any front-line vet, first-responder, police officer or paramedic just how funny death is, to say nothing of bloody messes. Once you've seen the real thing, it ain't funny - ever again. Everybody will have to deal with death sooner or later - let the children just be alive for now. 'Nuff said...
I would like, however, to reinstall my sense of humor now, because there is a wide swath of the American culture that seems to have completely lost theirs when it comes to Halloween...
I remember going to an all-out Halloween party in the basement of our church back when I was about 5 or 6 - dressed as a little red devil, to boot. And I wasn't the only one - other scary costumes abounded. These days most churches wouldn't dream of doing a Halloween ANYTHING. They have to be called something like, oh, I don't know, harvest festivals, or something like that (inside joke - sorry!), as though by renaming it, everybody forgets that it wouldn't be taking place at the end of October were it not for the fact that Halloween does too. The 'good Christian watchdogs' snoot down their noses at all things Halloween just as fast as they do about other topics that are far more controversial and that exert far more influence on our culture and country than one silly, spooky night. They cite reasons like the origins of the event, or what other people do to 'celebrate' the day and how Christians should be setting a better example.
The thing that befuddles me is that, in their self-righteous clucking they seem to conveniently ignore the discussions on the origins of Easter and Christmas as well. While both holidays are - in perception, at the very least - "Christian holidays," neither are, in any direct sense, scriptural. Some have argued that their respective dates were chosen to "Christianize" pagan festivals (although that theory is far from being 'the gospel truth' - so to speak). Whatever the origins, when my family comes together for Christmas and decorates, exchanges gifts, whatever - we do so to celebrate family and the good news of the birth of a Savior. A Savior who told us to live life abundantly, by the way - not in fear. By exchanging gifts, we are not celebrating the crass commercialism so prevalent in our Capitalistic culture, nor are we attempting to draw attention away from Jesus and toward Santa by reading "Twas the Night Before Christmas." Similarly, we may decorate and hide eggs or share the occasional chocolate bunny on Easter, but we are not performing some ancient fertility rite by doing so. The day is about remembering what Christ accomplished and the promise that comes with it - the rest is just having a little fun along the way. To round out the thought, as we were going from door to door last night, I promise you the topic of Samhain never came up, and at no point in the evening did I feel anything resembling an urge to sacrifice something to appease the spirits - whatever that means.
I suppose my point is this: Not everybody celebrates Halloween, or Christmas, or Easter - or whatever - in a way that I would, nor even necessarily in a way that I would find non-offensive. That fact is never going to change. But their method of celebration does not define mine. Have the fall festival - by all means - just don't pretend Halloween isn't there, or is somehow inherently evil. Other people may celebrate it in evil or misguided ways, but responding by simply disappearing or complaining won't change that, and if all we can focus on is those evil, misguided people and practices, we will actually wind up giving them more power - not taking it away. Besides, quite frankly, I don't give a rip about the origins of the celebrations. It's a little bit of interesting ancient history, and that's it.
And just for good measure, not every celebration has to be about some event in Jesus' life. Were that the case, throw out birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, etc... Want to set a good example? Fine. But "taking your ball and going home" and spitting at the people that still want to play is NOT setting a good example.
Hope everybody had a fun, safe, and happy Halloween. Looking forward to Turkey Day - uh - I Mean, Thanksgiving...
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Mornings are weird times for me. I don't mean mornings as in nine to noon. No, I'm referring more to the moments between dragging myself out of bed and getting out of the shower. I guess my brain is trying to right itself after being horizontal for the last few hours, or it's trying to sort dreams from actual memories, or maybe it's just freaking out a bit because today just became yesterday and tomorrow just became today - I don't know. But I think a lot in those moments, and honestly, it's not always pleasant (no one will ever accuse me of being a morning person, trust me).
Sometimes, like today, it can be a little intriguing, though. When it comes to god and the Bible, I am no fundamentalist. But neither am I liberal - some of the things those guys come up with just stretch the limits of rational thought too far for me. Still, I have often considered - and stated my belief that - God is not contained by the Bible. The Bible tells us things about Him, but does not, and can not, define Him. God is bigger than the Bible, and if you extrapolate that concept out further, accepting God as a pre-existent, eternal being, God is bigger than time.
The thing is, the Bible describes God through the eyes of - and using the terms and references of - civilizations that have been dust for centuries. God, in His nature, is unchanging, but the world we live in is not, and just as God is bigger than our perceptions and terms of recognition, so, also would He have been bigger than the perceptions and terms of those archaic civilizations. My point is that God is just as comfortable in the 'now' as He was in the 'then.' He's not surprised by it, He doesn't struggle with any generation gap, He's just as present now as He was then, and this period in history is just as valid to Him as that one was.
Now, at this point, there are plenty of modern-day "theologians" that would use that train of thought to reinterpret scripture in some pretty irresponsible ways, but that's not where I'm going. I was just thinking all this through in the shower and wondered what the Ten Commandments would sound like had they been given today, in this culture. For instance:
1. "Thou shalt have no other Gods before me."
That could be rephrased as "There is only one God, and I'm it. If you put your faith in anything other than me, it will ultimately fail you every time, so just don't."
2. "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image."
I hear this one along the lines of "If you make an idol out of stone or clay, then all you're really putting your hope in is rocks and dirt. See commandment one..."
3. "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain."
"I am God, and you really need to keep that in perspective. My name is not just another word to be tossed about, nor should you claim affiliation with Me lightly - you may fool them, but you won't fool me. Show some respect."
4. "Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it Holy."
Take a day to slow down and purposefully remember who I am and what I've done, and all that that means and implies. One day out of seven is not asking a lot.
5. "Honor thy father and mother."
Your parents have experienced more life than you, so listen to them. They invested a good chunk of their lives into yours, so be thankful. You represent them in the world, so don't do things that would shame them. It's pretty straight forward...
6. "Thou shalt not kill."
Don't murder anyone. I gave them life, and you do not have the right to steal what I have given.
7. "Thou shalt not commit adultery."
Don't do anything to destroy the trust and respect in the marriage relationship. I made people for relationship, and the marriage relationship is a particularly special one in my eyes. It is an exchange of trust between two souls, and further, it represents my commitment to those who come to me. Treat it accordingly.
8. "Thou shalt not steal."
If it's not yours, leave it alone. Either learn to be content with what you have, or to work for what you want. Either option will be of far more value in the long run than anything you can just walk up and take.
9. "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor."
Don't lie. It cheapens life, and it cheapens you. I am the author of all truth, and if a lie falls from your lips, it did not come from me. Consider the options.
10. "Thou shalt not covet."
Don't waste time and energy brooding about what others have and what you don't. That's focusing on things, not people. Life isn't about what you own, anyway - you'll have to leave it all behind eventually...
So, I didn't actually intend to do all ten, but there they are. Might be fun to re-imagine other scriptural concepts in modern terms, like Satan tempting Christ in the wilderness. What would he tempt Jesus with? Fame? Gourmet food? Political power? Hmmm...
Honestly, although it's a bit of a tangent, I've also often wondered about why God chose to send Christ at that particular period in time, into that particular area. I've heard some intriguing discussions on that thought. Wonder what it would have looked like if God had waited until now? Maybe I'll save that for another blog...
Sometimes, like today, it can be a little intriguing, though. When it comes to god and the Bible, I am no fundamentalist. But neither am I liberal - some of the things those guys come up with just stretch the limits of rational thought too far for me. Still, I have often considered - and stated my belief that - God is not contained by the Bible. The Bible tells us things about Him, but does not, and can not, define Him. God is bigger than the Bible, and if you extrapolate that concept out further, accepting God as a pre-existent, eternal being, God is bigger than time.
The thing is, the Bible describes God through the eyes of - and using the terms and references of - civilizations that have been dust for centuries. God, in His nature, is unchanging, but the world we live in is not, and just as God is bigger than our perceptions and terms of recognition, so, also would He have been bigger than the perceptions and terms of those archaic civilizations. My point is that God is just as comfortable in the 'now' as He was in the 'then.' He's not surprised by it, He doesn't struggle with any generation gap, He's just as present now as He was then, and this period in history is just as valid to Him as that one was.
Now, at this point, there are plenty of modern-day "theologians" that would use that train of thought to reinterpret scripture in some pretty irresponsible ways, but that's not where I'm going. I was just thinking all this through in the shower and wondered what the Ten Commandments would sound like had they been given today, in this culture. For instance:
1. "Thou shalt have no other Gods before me."
That could be rephrased as "There is only one God, and I'm it. If you put your faith in anything other than me, it will ultimately fail you every time, so just don't."
2. "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image."
I hear this one along the lines of "If you make an idol out of stone or clay, then all you're really putting your hope in is rocks and dirt. See commandment one..."
3. "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain."
"I am God, and you really need to keep that in perspective. My name is not just another word to be tossed about, nor should you claim affiliation with Me lightly - you may fool them, but you won't fool me. Show some respect."
4. "Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it Holy."
Take a day to slow down and purposefully remember who I am and what I've done, and all that that means and implies. One day out of seven is not asking a lot.
5. "Honor thy father and mother."
Your parents have experienced more life than you, so listen to them. They invested a good chunk of their lives into yours, so be thankful. You represent them in the world, so don't do things that would shame them. It's pretty straight forward...
6. "Thou shalt not kill."
Don't murder anyone. I gave them life, and you do not have the right to steal what I have given.
7. "Thou shalt not commit adultery."
Don't do anything to destroy the trust and respect in the marriage relationship. I made people for relationship, and the marriage relationship is a particularly special one in my eyes. It is an exchange of trust between two souls, and further, it represents my commitment to those who come to me. Treat it accordingly.
8. "Thou shalt not steal."
If it's not yours, leave it alone. Either learn to be content with what you have, or to work for what you want. Either option will be of far more value in the long run than anything you can just walk up and take.
9. "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor."
Don't lie. It cheapens life, and it cheapens you. I am the author of all truth, and if a lie falls from your lips, it did not come from me. Consider the options.
10. "Thou shalt not covet."
Don't waste time and energy brooding about what others have and what you don't. That's focusing on things, not people. Life isn't about what you own, anyway - you'll have to leave it all behind eventually...
So, I didn't actually intend to do all ten, but there they are. Might be fun to re-imagine other scriptural concepts in modern terms, like Satan tempting Christ in the wilderness. What would he tempt Jesus with? Fame? Gourmet food? Political power? Hmmm...
Honestly, although it's a bit of a tangent, I've also often wondered about why God chose to send Christ at that particular period in time, into that particular area. I've heard some intriguing discussions on that thought. Wonder what it would have looked like if God had waited until now? Maybe I'll save that for another blog...
Monday, October 11, 2010
To blog or not to blog...
Hm. Just read a blog post by a Christian artist and the expansive list of responses that followed. I have to admit I admire his courage in putting his thoughts out there as regularly as he obviously does, a well as with his commitment to stay engaged with those who respond. Of course, the next thought to jackrabbit through my mind was "Why don't I do something like that?"
In spite of the fact that I've been told by numerous people - people that I trust and admire, even - that I have good thoughts and should find a way to share them, the answer to the question above goes off like fireworks - sparks flying in all directions, each with plenty of material to easily carry a self-absorbed blog post all by itself. Too busy. Tired. Apathetic. Unsure. Scared. Lazy. You name it. I know enough about my own nature to know that I tend to invalidate myself too quickly, and the fear of coming across as arrogant is strong enough to incline me to keep my thoughts to myself many times (the fear of coming across as wrong picks up a lot of what's left over - that and a deep dislike of being ridiculed). In all honesty, if it weren't for the fact that I believe that the number of people that will actually find this post can be counted on one hand, I likely wouldn't be typing it.
Yet here I am...
Does that mean that I secretly think I have some wisdom of worth to offer, or perhaps that I just want to believe that I do? Am I self-centered for typing out my thoughts, thereby tacitly attaching worth to them when I have no discernible objective reason to do so? If I were conveying something funny, I would be able to attach worth to that, because I believe in the value of sharing laughter, and that's a value that I perceive as existing outside of myself. But describing my own struggles, or my own beliefs, or observations - those are more personal. Those are much more about me, rather than just being about something outside of me that's funny. If I really started opening up about some of the things I think, some of the things that tick me off - I don't know. Let me put it the way it occurred to me earlier today: "It seems to me that there are more and more assholes in the world these days, and sometimes I'm afraid I'm one of them." But I do have beliefs that I'm passionate about - or at least beliefs that I hold passionately to - even some of the ones I have doubts about, oddly.
My point? Sometimes I cuss, though I believe I shouldn't. I claim faith, though I often doubt. What kind of a witness is that? Sometimes I can be bitingly sarcastic, even derogatory, in my thoughts. Not good things to have running through my head. I can be angry, resentful, prideful, lustful, selfish, petty... In a nutshell, I firmly believe I should be a better person than I am, and as a result I am reluctant to share the front row seat to my failings with the rest of the world, because I think I'd like to have a few friends left at the end of the day, thanks, and I'm sure none of them struggle with those things, right?
So if you happen to be one of the four or five people that accidentally find this post, and then happen to be one of the maybe two that are bored enough to have read this far, sound off if you have any thoughts on the topic. I'd be interested in hearing them...
In spite of the fact that I've been told by numerous people - people that I trust and admire, even - that I have good thoughts and should find a way to share them, the answer to the question above goes off like fireworks - sparks flying in all directions, each with plenty of material to easily carry a self-absorbed blog post all by itself. Too busy. Tired. Apathetic. Unsure. Scared. Lazy. You name it. I know enough about my own nature to know that I tend to invalidate myself too quickly, and the fear of coming across as arrogant is strong enough to incline me to keep my thoughts to myself many times (the fear of coming across as wrong picks up a lot of what's left over - that and a deep dislike of being ridiculed). In all honesty, if it weren't for the fact that I believe that the number of people that will actually find this post can be counted on one hand, I likely wouldn't be typing it.
Yet here I am...
Does that mean that I secretly think I have some wisdom of worth to offer, or perhaps that I just want to believe that I do? Am I self-centered for typing out my thoughts, thereby tacitly attaching worth to them when I have no discernible objective reason to do so? If I were conveying something funny, I would be able to attach worth to that, because I believe in the value of sharing laughter, and that's a value that I perceive as existing outside of myself. But describing my own struggles, or my own beliefs, or observations - those are more personal. Those are much more about me, rather than just being about something outside of me that's funny. If I really started opening up about some of the things I think, some of the things that tick me off - I don't know. Let me put it the way it occurred to me earlier today: "It seems to me that there are more and more assholes in the world these days, and sometimes I'm afraid I'm one of them." But I do have beliefs that I'm passionate about - or at least beliefs that I hold passionately to - even some of the ones I have doubts about, oddly.
My point? Sometimes I cuss, though I believe I shouldn't. I claim faith, though I often doubt. What kind of a witness is that? Sometimes I can be bitingly sarcastic, even derogatory, in my thoughts. Not good things to have running through my head. I can be angry, resentful, prideful, lustful, selfish, petty... In a nutshell, I firmly believe I should be a better person than I am, and as a result I am reluctant to share the front row seat to my failings with the rest of the world, because I think I'd like to have a few friends left at the end of the day, thanks, and I'm sure none of them struggle with those things, right?
So if you happen to be one of the four or five people that accidentally find this post, and then happen to be one of the maybe two that are bored enough to have read this far, sound off if you have any thoughts on the topic. I'd be interested in hearing them...
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Wow - been a long time since last time...
I just got back home from Scottish Rite where Kyla and Katrice are curled up in a single hospital bed getting some sleep before the surgery tomorrow. I should be in bed myself, actually. Something has been nagging me lately, though. Something that happened about a week or two ago. But before I go there, let me back up a little further, first...
We lost Nutmeg (our dog and family member of 11 years) about a month ago or so now, and I still regularly feel her not where she's supposed to be, if you know what I mean. Before that sad day, though, whenever Katrice was home and Nutmeg wasn't out on patrol in the yard, she was Katrice's all but constant shadow. Where Katrice was, you could pretty much bet Nutmeg was not far away (oddly, though, Nutmeg was usually more obedient when it was me telling her what to do than when it was Katrice). In spite of that, there were the not all together uncommon occasions when I'd be up at some ridiculous hour of the night, sitting here on the couch tapping away on my computer, that Nutmeg would leave her post at the foot of the bed where Katrice was sleeping, and come softly clicking in on the hardwood floors to check on me. Maybe have a puppy dream or two at my feet before heading back to the bedroom and Katrice again. In all of that, it was unmistakable that - as Katrice said it best - we were her pack, and at the end of the day, in her little doggie mind, her place was with us. She didn't necessarily have to be playing or being scratched or even awake. Sometimes she would just sit with her eyes half open, her ears swiveling every now and again. Just enough to feel like she was on top of the events in her immediate vicinity, I'm sure.
Well, a week or two ago, I came home late - well after Kyla's bedtime. Katrice had gone in to put her to bed, and had herself fallen asleep in the process. Both were in Kyla's room, and the house was still and quiet. Usually, in a situation like that I would go downstairs and try to get in an hour on this project or that one, or maybe just spend a little brainless time on Facebook or some other internet distraction I'd found. This particular night, though, I turned and headed down the hall to Kyla's room. I couldn't tell you why in any specific terms - just felt the need to check in on them. I quietly slipped into the room and stood there by Kyla's platform bed for a half-a-minute or so. Then did something I'd not ever done before.
I laid down on the floor. Right next to the bed where Kyla and Katrice were snoozing away.
Again, I couldn't tell you what compelled me to do so. I mean, Katrice and I did a pretty good job on Kyla's room, if I may say so. Before Kyla was even born I made her three large butterflies that are on the wall above her bed - one green, one pink, and one yellow. I also built her an "end table" of sorts that looks somewhat like something out of Alice in Wonderland. The top is three flowers and the base is painted to look like a twisting stem and leaves. Hanging over the closet doors is a string of colorful, LED-lit butterflies, and Katrice found a large area rug that is basically a very soft, green shag. In this setting it is unmistakably reminiscent of a large plot of grass, and the foam pad beneath it is extra thick, as foam pads go. The room - particularly at night - is one of the most peaceful places I've ever encountered. But that wasn't what stopped me that night.
As I laid there in the dark wondering, honestly, why I was laying there, the answer suddenly came to me in the image of a mid-sized, honey-yellow dog with a big, black nose and humorously over-sized, pointy ears, resting her head on her paws and quietly watching me with soft, brown, knowing eyes. I opened my own eyes and focused on the conspicuously empty area of the rug. She wasn't there, but the message she delivered at that moment was unmistakable:
This was my pack. This was where I belonged, and sometimes, in certain very special places, you don't have to earn your worth. It is because it is. It's where you belong.
I suddenly came to a deeper understanding of Nutmeg at that moment, and through her, of myself as well. I suddenly understood how just sitting in the room with us, apparently doing "nothing," was actually all that she needed at that moment, and it was enough. I came to a new understanding of belonging. Nutmeg didn't have the constant onslaught of external struggles and internal recriminations to erode her belief in her status of "belonging." Nor did she carry any emotional baggage that constantly undermined her perception of the level of her worth to others. She was simply there because that's where she belonged, and she let it lie at that. Simple faith, no questions.
Still, as usual, even when the "aha" moments come along, they rarely have the ability to completely erase the perceptions and beliefs that had been obscuring that new-found truth up until that point. My struggles go on...
But - for that quiet moment in the middle of the night, Nutmeg "came back" to give me a new perspective on "belonging simply because I belong," and to remind me that it's not because I've figured out a way to - for now - be worth something. And she reminded me that I do, in fact, belong.
Thanks for that, Nut. I miss you...
I just got back home from Scottish Rite where Kyla and Katrice are curled up in a single hospital bed getting some sleep before the surgery tomorrow. I should be in bed myself, actually. Something has been nagging me lately, though. Something that happened about a week or two ago. But before I go there, let me back up a little further, first...
We lost Nutmeg (our dog and family member of 11 years) about a month ago or so now, and I still regularly feel her not where she's supposed to be, if you know what I mean. Before that sad day, though, whenever Katrice was home and Nutmeg wasn't out on patrol in the yard, she was Katrice's all but constant shadow. Where Katrice was, you could pretty much bet Nutmeg was not far away (oddly, though, Nutmeg was usually more obedient when it was me telling her what to do than when it was Katrice). In spite of that, there were the not all together uncommon occasions when I'd be up at some ridiculous hour of the night, sitting here on the couch tapping away on my computer, that Nutmeg would leave her post at the foot of the bed where Katrice was sleeping, and come softly clicking in on the hardwood floors to check on me. Maybe have a puppy dream or two at my feet before heading back to the bedroom and Katrice again. In all of that, it was unmistakable that - as Katrice said it best - we were her pack, and at the end of the day, in her little doggie mind, her place was with us. She didn't necessarily have to be playing or being scratched or even awake. Sometimes she would just sit with her eyes half open, her ears swiveling every now and again. Just enough to feel like she was on top of the events in her immediate vicinity, I'm sure.
Well, a week or two ago, I came home late - well after Kyla's bedtime. Katrice had gone in to put her to bed, and had herself fallen asleep in the process. Both were in Kyla's room, and the house was still and quiet. Usually, in a situation like that I would go downstairs and try to get in an hour on this project or that one, or maybe just spend a little brainless time on Facebook or some other internet distraction I'd found. This particular night, though, I turned and headed down the hall to Kyla's room. I couldn't tell you why in any specific terms - just felt the need to check in on them. I quietly slipped into the room and stood there by Kyla's platform bed for a half-a-minute or so. Then did something I'd not ever done before.
I laid down on the floor. Right next to the bed where Kyla and Katrice were snoozing away.
Again, I couldn't tell you what compelled me to do so. I mean, Katrice and I did a pretty good job on Kyla's room, if I may say so. Before Kyla was even born I made her three large butterflies that are on the wall above her bed - one green, one pink, and one yellow. I also built her an "end table" of sorts that looks somewhat like something out of Alice in Wonderland. The top is three flowers and the base is painted to look like a twisting stem and leaves. Hanging over the closet doors is a string of colorful, LED-lit butterflies, and Katrice found a large area rug that is basically a very soft, green shag. In this setting it is unmistakably reminiscent of a large plot of grass, and the foam pad beneath it is extra thick, as foam pads go. The room - particularly at night - is one of the most peaceful places I've ever encountered. But that wasn't what stopped me that night.
As I laid there in the dark wondering, honestly, why I was laying there, the answer suddenly came to me in the image of a mid-sized, honey-yellow dog with a big, black nose and humorously over-sized, pointy ears, resting her head on her paws and quietly watching me with soft, brown, knowing eyes. I opened my own eyes and focused on the conspicuously empty area of the rug. She wasn't there, but the message she delivered at that moment was unmistakable:
This was my pack. This was where I belonged, and sometimes, in certain very special places, you don't have to earn your worth. It is because it is. It's where you belong.
I suddenly came to a deeper understanding of Nutmeg at that moment, and through her, of myself as well. I suddenly understood how just sitting in the room with us, apparently doing "nothing," was actually all that she needed at that moment, and it was enough. I came to a new understanding of belonging. Nutmeg didn't have the constant onslaught of external struggles and internal recriminations to erode her belief in her status of "belonging." Nor did she carry any emotional baggage that constantly undermined her perception of the level of her worth to others. She was simply there because that's where she belonged, and she let it lie at that. Simple faith, no questions.
Still, as usual, even when the "aha" moments come along, they rarely have the ability to completely erase the perceptions and beliefs that had been obscuring that new-found truth up until that point. My struggles go on...
But - for that quiet moment in the middle of the night, Nutmeg "came back" to give me a new perspective on "belonging simply because I belong," and to remind me that it's not because I've figured out a way to - for now - be worth something. And she reminded me that I do, in fact, belong.
Thanks for that, Nut. I miss you...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Interlude
You know, between the last post and this one, I did intend to post a couple of other installments - even started one of them - but as the saying goes, life has a way of getting in the way. There's a long road stretching out behind me that leads back to September 12th (the date of my last post) that only I can see, and it seems like a very long time ago - particularly now.
I went back and re-read the beginning of that blog I started. It was going to be about learning:
"I think I'll write about learning. Learning - sometimes also referred to as "growing" - comes in many forms, some good, some not so much. For instance, have you ever seen those lists titled "everything I needed to learn about life I learned from (fill in the blank here)? Every time I'm headed for work and see my dog lying in the sunshine in the front yard wiggling around on her back in the grass and laughing at the tennis ball or stick that she's playing with, I am reminded about the value of learning how to simply enjoy life, and to enjoy life simply. I am also reminded of how infrequently I seem to make time to do just that. My daughter-to-be will learn many things from me. I hope I can teach her some things that I'm not very good at myself. Perhaps she can teach me how to do those things better in return."
I had intended to tell you about the wonderful things Katrice and I had been learning from this pregnancy experience. Things like just how little real estate there can be when trying to share a bed with the bun-in-the-oven, or new words like "polydactyly" (which I'll come back to later).
But see, here's the thing - I can't really remember now what I was going to write about then, and I'm pretty confident in saying that's because my daughter was born six days ago. Suddenly the whole pregnancy period has taken on a blurry, dream-like quality in comparison to this new reality that has finally come tumbling into Katrice's & my life.
My previous posts were all geared towards having a little fun with the events of my life at the time. Maybe try to relieve a little stress and anxiety through humor. At this moment I can't really think of anything funny to say, though.
But that's not because anything bad has happened - quite the opposite. I look into my newborn daughter's face and almost can't help but smile. Here is this tiny little creature with my wife's nose and my widow's peak that at one point not long ago I was - in a sense - almost afraid of. Now I stroke her hair or her cheek and think it's got to be the softest thing I've ever felt. I look at her little hands and they are absolutely fascinating. People had mentioned to me in the past that new parents often spend long periods of time just staring at their newborn, and I would always think "okay, whatever..." I have now become a believer, though. Yes, I've become an official baby-starer.
Oh, and a baby-smeller, too. I was also not so convinced when people would tell me that newborns have a certain smell about them. Well, I can't describe it to you, but it's there. Maybe it's the smell of innocence, who knows. I know full well there are stinky days ahead, but for now I'll sniff my daughter's head every chance I get.
So I guess no jokes for this particular post. My life at the moment is dominated a bit more by a quiet sense of wonder at this new little person that has entered the world. Wonder at the fact that, where there was once no person, now there is.
I just can't top that...
I went back and re-read the beginning of that blog I started. It was going to be about learning:
"I think I'll write about learning. Learning - sometimes also referred to as "growing" - comes in many forms, some good, some not so much. For instance, have you ever seen those lists titled "everything I needed to learn about life I learned from (fill in the blank here)? Every time I'm headed for work and see my dog lying in the sunshine in the front yard wiggling around on her back in the grass and laughing at the tennis ball or stick that she's playing with, I am reminded about the value of learning how to simply enjoy life, and to enjoy life simply. I am also reminded of how infrequently I seem to make time to do just that. My daughter-to-be will learn many things from me. I hope I can teach her some things that I'm not very good at myself. Perhaps she can teach me how to do those things better in return."
I had intended to tell you about the wonderful things Katrice and I had been learning from this pregnancy experience. Things like just how little real estate there can be when trying to share a bed with the bun-in-the-oven, or new words like "polydactyly" (which I'll come back to later).
But see, here's the thing - I can't really remember now what I was going to write about then, and I'm pretty confident in saying that's because my daughter was born six days ago. Suddenly the whole pregnancy period has taken on a blurry, dream-like quality in comparison to this new reality that has finally come tumbling into Katrice's & my life.
My previous posts were all geared towards having a little fun with the events of my life at the time. Maybe try to relieve a little stress and anxiety through humor. At this moment I can't really think of anything funny to say, though.
But that's not because anything bad has happened - quite the opposite. I look into my newborn daughter's face and almost can't help but smile. Here is this tiny little creature with my wife's nose and my widow's peak that at one point not long ago I was - in a sense - almost afraid of. Now I stroke her hair or her cheek and think it's got to be the softest thing I've ever felt. I look at her little hands and they are absolutely fascinating. People had mentioned to me in the past that new parents often spend long periods of time just staring at their newborn, and I would always think "okay, whatever..." I have now become a believer, though. Yes, I've become an official baby-starer.
Oh, and a baby-smeller, too. I was also not so convinced when people would tell me that newborns have a certain smell about them. Well, I can't describe it to you, but it's there. Maybe it's the smell of innocence, who knows. I know full well there are stinky days ahead, but for now I'll sniff my daughter's head every chance I get.
So I guess no jokes for this particular post. My life at the moment is dominated a bit more by a quiet sense of wonder at this new little person that has entered the world. Wonder at the fact that, where there was once no person, now there is.
I just can't top that...
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Anybody seen my socks?
I have always been taught that time - in simple terms - is linear. Sunrise leads to sunset, seconds lead to minutes lead to hours lead to days, beer leads to the bathroom, you know - that kind of thing. This follows this follows the other, in an orderly fashion - relatively speaking - and my experience of time has not varied noticeably from that model in all the years I've been alive. Why, then, does it seem as though all of the clocks have fallen out of my brain? Of course, were you to ask my wife, she would tell you that happened a long time ago, and while I'm willing to consider her point, that's not really what I'm getting at here.
Okay, take a breath kiddies, we're going under for a second or two...
Very soon after I found out we were going to have a baby I realized that somewhere along the way during the last 3 to 5 years, I had at some point started defining my life in terms of my own death. What I mean by that, in a nutshell, is that I had started looking at my life and my activities and my interests in terms of how much longer I had - how much time did I have left? I realized that because almost immediately upon hearing the word 'pregnant', everything sort of flip-flopped and I started looking at life in terms of the little life that was just beginning. Have you ever picked up a suitcase only to find out just a second or two later that you hadn't snapped the latches the last time you were in it? Yep - that was my brain. And now I can't seem to find my socks. If you know what I mean.
Well, a few weeks ago Katrice (my pregnant wife, in case you haven't picked up on that yet) and I went in for her - let's see - third sonogram. I'll get to that in a second, but let's review first, shall we?
Sonogram one: "Parents, meet Spot. Spot, meet - uh - I don't know - wall of mom's uterus?" Amazing none the less because little Spot already has a heartbeat. Everything is still surreal. Mom and dad (to be) still look sideways at each other from time to time and wonder if the other is thinking "What did we just do?" too.
Sonogram Two: "Parents, meet vaguely-baby-shaped-less-spot-like shape. With hands." At least, that's what the nurse said that was. And already with Katrice's nose - a little hummingbird with no wings and Katrice's nose. Now there's a picture, eh? But I digress...
Sonogram three went something like this: Blue goo on the stomach, nurse picks up the gizmo, runs said gizmo all over Katrice's now-somewhat-expanded belly, clicking here, stopping there, measuring this distance, pointing out points of interest along the way such as hands that now looked like - well - like our cat's paws, honestly. Minus the claws, of course (sorry - had to put that in there - our dog was looking a bit worried for a second - but I digress). Now, granted, Katrice and I had decided very early on that we wanted to know if we were having a girl or a boy. When the nurse asked us if we wanted to know, I thought I'd have a little time to brace myself, right? But nooooo. A shift to the left and - click - "It's a girl, see?"
There, emblazoned across the monitor for all the world to see was my daughter's hoo-hoo. Oh, and by all current indications, my daughter doesn't appear to be shy. I got the vaguest urge to yell "You're not leaving the house like that, young lady!", but realized this might not be the time or place. I also got the slightest hint of foreshadowing that the level of decorum and modesty might just be destined to drop at the McCullough household in the not-too-distant future (I can just hear Katrice as she's reading that last line: "We have decorum and modesty at our house? Where?" I am not as bad as she makes me out to be, trust me - but I digress). Then, as I'm arguing back and forth with myself along the lines of "Stop staring" and "Stop being silly", the nurse draws a big arrow pointing you-know-where and writes "girl" right next to it. Thanks, ma'am. I hadn't noticed. Oh, and can I get a wallet-sized?
Anyway, time is all flip-flopped in my head and my clocks haven't quite decided what time to agree on yet. I am so looking forward to the years of discovery I will get to share with Katrice and my daughter - watching the world through eyes that have never seen it. Being given the opportunity to watch it through eyes that have never felt like they've seen too much of it already, like mine sometimes do.
I guess that sort of touches on my point - there are parts of me that feel as though I've seen to much already, right next to parts of me that can't wait to show her all kinds of things. It's an odd mix that I'm not yet used to.
Hmmm.
Well, I'll leave you this time with this thought:
Assuming we start counting in the year 1776, we will have to wait another 18 years - the year 2024 - for the once-planet Pluto to have circled the sun once while America has existed on the face of this planet as an independent country. That's the same year, incidentally, that my daughter will graduate from high-school...
Coincidence? I think not.
But I digress...
Okay, take a breath kiddies, we're going under for a second or two...
Very soon after I found out we were going to have a baby I realized that somewhere along the way during the last 3 to 5 years, I had at some point started defining my life in terms of my own death. What I mean by that, in a nutshell, is that I had started looking at my life and my activities and my interests in terms of how much longer I had - how much time did I have left? I realized that because almost immediately upon hearing the word 'pregnant', everything sort of flip-flopped and I started looking at life in terms of the little life that was just beginning. Have you ever picked up a suitcase only to find out just a second or two later that you hadn't snapped the latches the last time you were in it? Yep - that was my brain. And now I can't seem to find my socks. If you know what I mean.
Well, a few weeks ago Katrice (my pregnant wife, in case you haven't picked up on that yet) and I went in for her - let's see - third sonogram. I'll get to that in a second, but let's review first, shall we?
Sonogram one: "Parents, meet Spot. Spot, meet - uh - I don't know - wall of mom's uterus?" Amazing none the less because little Spot already has a heartbeat. Everything is still surreal. Mom and dad (to be) still look sideways at each other from time to time and wonder if the other is thinking "What did we just do?" too.
Sonogram Two: "Parents, meet vaguely-baby-shaped-less-spot-like shape. With hands." At least, that's what the nurse said that was. And already with Katrice's nose - a little hummingbird with no wings and Katrice's nose. Now there's a picture, eh? But I digress...
Sonogram three went something like this: Blue goo on the stomach, nurse picks up the gizmo, runs said gizmo all over Katrice's now-somewhat-expanded belly, clicking here, stopping there, measuring this distance, pointing out points of interest along the way such as hands that now looked like - well - like our cat's paws, honestly. Minus the claws, of course (sorry - had to put that in there - our dog was looking a bit worried for a second - but I digress). Now, granted, Katrice and I had decided very early on that we wanted to know if we were having a girl or a boy. When the nurse asked us if we wanted to know, I thought I'd have a little time to brace myself, right? But nooooo. A shift to the left and - click - "It's a girl, see?"
There, emblazoned across the monitor for all the world to see was my daughter's hoo-hoo. Oh, and by all current indications, my daughter doesn't appear to be shy. I got the vaguest urge to yell "You're not leaving the house like that, young lady!", but realized this might not be the time or place. I also got the slightest hint of foreshadowing that the level of decorum and modesty might just be destined to drop at the McCullough household in the not-too-distant future (I can just hear Katrice as she's reading that last line: "We have decorum and modesty at our house? Where?" I am not as bad as she makes me out to be, trust me - but I digress). Then, as I'm arguing back and forth with myself along the lines of "Stop staring" and "Stop being silly", the nurse draws a big arrow pointing you-know-where and writes "girl" right next to it. Thanks, ma'am. I hadn't noticed. Oh, and can I get a wallet-sized?
Anyway, time is all flip-flopped in my head and my clocks haven't quite decided what time to agree on yet. I am so looking forward to the years of discovery I will get to share with Katrice and my daughter - watching the world through eyes that have never seen it. Being given the opportunity to watch it through eyes that have never felt like they've seen too much of it already, like mine sometimes do.
I guess that sort of touches on my point - there are parts of me that feel as though I've seen to much already, right next to parts of me that can't wait to show her all kinds of things. It's an odd mix that I'm not yet used to.
Hmmm.
Well, I'll leave you this time with this thought:
Assuming we start counting in the year 1776, we will have to wait another 18 years - the year 2024 - for the once-planet Pluto to have circled the sun once while America has existed on the face of this planet as an independent country. That's the same year, incidentally, that my daughter will graduate from high-school...
Coincidence? I think not.
But I digress...
Monday, July 17, 2006
Turning Corners
You know, I've never in my life been more aware of the fact than I am at this particular point in my life that every moment that passes is one more that will never come back around. I've often thought that we humans - or most of you humans out there that are like me, anyway - seem to cruise along for the longest time as though we think we have forever here on earth. In reality we all have a finite amount of time, and nobody gets out alive. Who said that first? Bob Dylan? Will Rodgers, maybe? Could have been Capone, I suppose. But I digress...
I was drawing a picture of a dragon in one of my sketchbooks a week or so ago. Dragons have always been symbolic of one thing or another in the churning laundry that is my imagination (where sometimes I use too much soap and the suds go everywhere). Anyway, I started writing, following around the outline of the sketch. What came out was this:
"The thing to remember," said the dragon, "is that once you turn the corner, the corner is gone, and that even if you insist upon going back to find it, it cannot be found - only a corner similar to one you once passed. For the eyes you look with will ever be older than the eyes you saw with, and the wake of your passing will always bring change to the past of your path."
"Then how do I return home?" said the boy.
"You don't." was the dragon's soft reply. "For returning is simply what it says: re-turning - turning again. Enough of that and you're just walking in circles. If home is truly your wish, then you must find it in front of you - just ahead, around the next corner..."
The corners keep coming, whether we want them or not. They are inescapable. Katrice and I are certainly not so far from a big one of our own. Last week we went in for our 'genetic counseling' and the second sonogram. The genetic counseling part was a little anxiety-inducing, but honestly seemed relatively routine. That is up until the very end when I mentioned the fact that I was born with six fingers on each hand, and six toes on each foot. That's when the Doctor said "Hmm - well, that actually might show up again here..." Of course, after everything else she had just told us about I quickly decided that if six fingers was the worst thing that happened, genetically speaking, then bring on the digits and let's have a party...
The sonogram part came next. This time the apparatus they used was much more what I expected, as opposed to the first sonogram, for which the technician used a, well, um, an unexpectedly, uh, shaped apparatus used in - uh - an unexpected fashion. I swear I must have been sitting there with a question mark floating in the air above my head that day and those little parentheses on either side of my eyes like Charlie Brown gets sometimes. Let's just leave it at that, shall we? Good.
Anyway, in came the nurse, squeezed a pile of blue goo on my wife's stomach, then picked up a little square doohickey and proceded to smear the aforementioned blue goo all over her stomach (my wife's, not her own - although, come to think of it, that would certainly have been interesting - but I digress). The monitor had the typical unrecognizeable (to me, anyway) static-y stuff all over it, which by the way I am mystified as to how those doctors and nurses navigate. Seems kinda like trying to walk through the house with all the lights off wearing sunglasses with vaseline smeared all over the lenses. Then suddenly, out of the fog, there it was - this little human shape. No more sunflower seed, folks. This time there were arms and legs and fingers (that I tried to count, but to no avail). I swear it even had Katrice's nose.
That was amazing enough as it is, but then - right then as I was watching - it moved. Waved it's little arms around and arched it's back. Boom - around the corner we went.
At that precise moment, in that dark little room, I felt the rest of the world simply cease to exist. There was me, my wife, and this little person made from the two of us up there on the screen that somehow, incredibly, was somewhere inside my wife's body. That's it. Just us. It was a sensation unlike any other I have ever experienced. That's all I can say.
Somewhere back in a very small part of my brain that wasn't sitting there speechless with it's mouth hanging open - like the rest of me - was a familiar feeling. A version of the color-shifting sky feeling (see the previous post if that doesn't make sense). A feeling along the lines of "I don't know what I was expecting at this point in my life but I don't think I could have ever anticipated this...", with just a dash of "God, I sure hope you know what you're doing..." and a smidgen of "that is so - freakin' - COOL..." thrown in for good measure. It was the odd feeling of life moving forward under its own power - in motion, completely independent of me.
That's kind of how it is though, isn't it?
Life/time will move forward by itself with no influence or input needed from any of us. That's what it does, whether we are part of it or not. But every morning we get to decide: do I float along like a leaf in a stream, or do I jump in and swim around a bit, exercise what choice I do have when I can, do some things for and with other people that are worthwhile, and have some fun while I'm here to boot? It's not always as easy a question as it seems like it should be, if you ask me, and moments do come where floating along is the best thing to do - or at least the best we can do at the moment.
At this moment, I'm not 100% sure if I should be doing a little floating, or thrashing about wildly like a bathtub full of olympic swimmers after way too many cups of coffee. So I think I'll go fix that broken sprinkler head in the front yard until I figure it out.
I'll get back to you...
I was drawing a picture of a dragon in one of my sketchbooks a week or so ago. Dragons have always been symbolic of one thing or another in the churning laundry that is my imagination (where sometimes I use too much soap and the suds go everywhere). Anyway, I started writing, following around the outline of the sketch. What came out was this:
"The thing to remember," said the dragon, "is that once you turn the corner, the corner is gone, and that even if you insist upon going back to find it, it cannot be found - only a corner similar to one you once passed. For the eyes you look with will ever be older than the eyes you saw with, and the wake of your passing will always bring change to the past of your path."
"Then how do I return home?" said the boy.
"You don't." was the dragon's soft reply. "For returning is simply what it says: re-turning - turning again. Enough of that and you're just walking in circles. If home is truly your wish, then you must find it in front of you - just ahead, around the next corner..."
The corners keep coming, whether we want them or not. They are inescapable. Katrice and I are certainly not so far from a big one of our own. Last week we went in for our 'genetic counseling' and the second sonogram. The genetic counseling part was a little anxiety-inducing, but honestly seemed relatively routine. That is up until the very end when I mentioned the fact that I was born with six fingers on each hand, and six toes on each foot. That's when the Doctor said "Hmm - well, that actually might show up again here..." Of course, after everything else she had just told us about I quickly decided that if six fingers was the worst thing that happened, genetically speaking, then bring on the digits and let's have a party...
The sonogram part came next. This time the apparatus they used was much more what I expected, as opposed to the first sonogram, for which the technician used a, well, um, an unexpectedly, uh, shaped apparatus used in - uh - an unexpected fashion. I swear I must have been sitting there with a question mark floating in the air above my head that day and those little parentheses on either side of my eyes like Charlie Brown gets sometimes. Let's just leave it at that, shall we? Good.
Anyway, in came the nurse, squeezed a pile of blue goo on my wife's stomach, then picked up a little square doohickey and proceded to smear the aforementioned blue goo all over her stomach (my wife's, not her own - although, come to think of it, that would certainly have been interesting - but I digress). The monitor had the typical unrecognizeable (to me, anyway) static-y stuff all over it, which by the way I am mystified as to how those doctors and nurses navigate. Seems kinda like trying to walk through the house with all the lights off wearing sunglasses with vaseline smeared all over the lenses. Then suddenly, out of the fog, there it was - this little human shape. No more sunflower seed, folks. This time there were arms and legs and fingers (that I tried to count, but to no avail). I swear it even had Katrice's nose.
That was amazing enough as it is, but then - right then as I was watching - it moved. Waved it's little arms around and arched it's back. Boom - around the corner we went.
At that precise moment, in that dark little room, I felt the rest of the world simply cease to exist. There was me, my wife, and this little person made from the two of us up there on the screen that somehow, incredibly, was somewhere inside my wife's body. That's it. Just us. It was a sensation unlike any other I have ever experienced. That's all I can say.
Somewhere back in a very small part of my brain that wasn't sitting there speechless with it's mouth hanging open - like the rest of me - was a familiar feeling. A version of the color-shifting sky feeling (see the previous post if that doesn't make sense). A feeling along the lines of "I don't know what I was expecting at this point in my life but I don't think I could have ever anticipated this...", with just a dash of "God, I sure hope you know what you're doing..." and a smidgen of "that is so - freakin' - COOL..." thrown in for good measure. It was the odd feeling of life moving forward under its own power - in motion, completely independent of me.
That's kind of how it is though, isn't it?
Life/time will move forward by itself with no influence or input needed from any of us. That's what it does, whether we are part of it or not. But every morning we get to decide: do I float along like a leaf in a stream, or do I jump in and swim around a bit, exercise what choice I do have when I can, do some things for and with other people that are worthwhile, and have some fun while I'm here to boot? It's not always as easy a question as it seems like it should be, if you ask me, and moments do come where floating along is the best thing to do - or at least the best we can do at the moment.
At this moment, I'm not 100% sure if I should be doing a little floating, or thrashing about wildly like a bathtub full of olympic swimmers after way too many cups of coffee. So I think I'll go fix that broken sprinkler head in the front yard until I figure it out.
I'll get back to you...
Thursday, June 29, 2006
New Beginnings...
Okay, so here's the deal...
My wife is pregnant.
Deep breaths. It's cool - everything's cool, no biggie...
GAAAAAAAAHHHHH!
Okay. Now that that's out off the way (for now)...
Wow. Pregnant. As in, going to have a baby (just in case there was any confusion there).
Um...
God? You're in on this, right? Hello? Come on, I know you're there - I can hear you chuckling...
Man, that is the kind of news you just can't prepare for. It's good news, don't get me wrong, but it's news that is closely followed by a nifty little phenomenon commonly known as a... what was the word? Oh yeah...
Panic. No, wait, that's not it. Starts with a "P" though...
Paradigm shift. That's the word. Paradigm shift as in "Oh my goodness, Did you see that?? The sky just changed colors!"
Don't laugh - that's exactly what I told her when she told me, and I wasn't kidding.
I know there's a lot of you out there right now thinking "What's his problem? It's just a baby..." which to me is something along the same lines as "What's his problem? It's just a third arm growing out of his forehead." Psh. Nothing to it.
It's a big deal to me. Suddenly I'm trying to figure out all the things I need to teach my child from beginning to end so I can get them down on paper so I don't forget anything 'cause if I do my child will be scarred for life and it will be ALL MY FAULT!!! Never mind the fact that "my child" is currently the size of a small sunflower seed and couldn't even, say, suck his/her thumb - even if he/she had one (which is actually more uncertain than you know, but that's another story)...
By the way - what's the current philosphy on thumb-sucking? Allow it? Squelch it? Ignore it? Put Tabasco on it? Where's Dr Spock when you need him? Maybe I should watch some old episodes of Star Trek - that's what made him famous, right? But I digress...
No, it's no big deal to some people, but my wife and I are not those people. My wife and I are the kind of people that have to repeat "One day at a time" over and over to ourselves like a mantra. All right, okay, fine - I'm the one that has to do that. My wife pretty much just says it once and then gets on with it. I have got to learn how she does that some day.
To us it's a big, scary unknown thing coming our way in no uncertain terms, and the fact that everybody we tell seems more excited than the last doesn't seem to make it any less big or scary. What's so scary, you might ask? Well, that depends upon who you ask. With my wife I think the biggest scary thing - aside from the fact that we're both pushing 40... Or at least she is - I kinda stopped pushing after it went over the edge a couple of years ago - but I digress.
Where was I? Oh yeah - wife - scary thing. For her I think it's the 'teenage phase' (key the ominous music here). This from the woman who began staking out her independence at the tender age of four. Or was it three? Anyway, I can see how that might worry her. Our kid's going to come home from kindergarten some day and ask if one of us will cosign on a loan for a used tricycle or something.
Me? My fears are probably a bit more self-centered. I just can't bring myself to look forward to cleaning the poop off another person's anatomy - even if it is cutesie-wootsie anatomy. Poop goes a long way towards mitigating cutesie-wootsie. Just ask the dog that craps in the middle of the living room floor when company's coming (and no, I did not just compare our darling little sunflower seed with a dog - it was just an illustration - lighten up, eh?).
Anyway. Thought I might take this opportunity to start a blog about this grand adventure my wife and I are embarking on together. All kidding aside, I wouldn't want to go on this journey with anyone else. She's a sharp one, she is. I hope I give her some of that encouragement back along the way.
I'll try to keeep the info here up to date. I'm really good at starting things like this blog, actually. The problem will become apparent when my next post comes along right after, say, my child's college graduation. Give or take. I started another blog once - for no reason, really - but I can't remember the last time I posted to it. Hey, you know how it is - life gets in the way.
But I digress...
My wife is pregnant.
Deep breaths. It's cool - everything's cool, no biggie...
GAAAAAAAAHHHHH!
Okay. Now that that's out off the way (for now)...
Wow. Pregnant. As in, going to have a baby (just in case there was any confusion there).
Um...
God? You're in on this, right? Hello? Come on, I know you're there - I can hear you chuckling...
Man, that is the kind of news you just can't prepare for. It's good news, don't get me wrong, but it's news that is closely followed by a nifty little phenomenon commonly known as a... what was the word? Oh yeah...
Panic. No, wait, that's not it. Starts with a "P" though...
Paradigm shift. That's the word. Paradigm shift as in "Oh my goodness, Did you see that?? The sky just changed colors!"
Don't laugh - that's exactly what I told her when she told me, and I wasn't kidding.
I know there's a lot of you out there right now thinking "What's his problem? It's just a baby..." which to me is something along the same lines as "What's his problem? It's just a third arm growing out of his forehead." Psh. Nothing to it.
It's a big deal to me. Suddenly I'm trying to figure out all the things I need to teach my child from beginning to end so I can get them down on paper so I don't forget anything 'cause if I do my child will be scarred for life and it will be ALL MY FAULT!!! Never mind the fact that "my child" is currently the size of a small sunflower seed and couldn't even, say, suck his/her thumb - even if he/she had one (which is actually more uncertain than you know, but that's another story)...
By the way - what's the current philosphy on thumb-sucking? Allow it? Squelch it? Ignore it? Put Tabasco on it? Where's Dr Spock when you need him? Maybe I should watch some old episodes of Star Trek - that's what made him famous, right? But I digress...
No, it's no big deal to some people, but my wife and I are not those people. My wife and I are the kind of people that have to repeat "One day at a time" over and over to ourselves like a mantra. All right, okay, fine - I'm the one that has to do that. My wife pretty much just says it once and then gets on with it. I have got to learn how she does that some day.
To us it's a big, scary unknown thing coming our way in no uncertain terms, and the fact that everybody we tell seems more excited than the last doesn't seem to make it any less big or scary. What's so scary, you might ask? Well, that depends upon who you ask. With my wife I think the biggest scary thing - aside from the fact that we're both pushing 40... Or at least she is - I kinda stopped pushing after it went over the edge a couple of years ago - but I digress.
Where was I? Oh yeah - wife - scary thing. For her I think it's the 'teenage phase' (key the ominous music here). This from the woman who began staking out her independence at the tender age of four. Or was it three? Anyway, I can see how that might worry her. Our kid's going to come home from kindergarten some day and ask if one of us will cosign on a loan for a used tricycle or something.
Me? My fears are probably a bit more self-centered. I just can't bring myself to look forward to cleaning the poop off another person's anatomy - even if it is cutesie-wootsie anatomy. Poop goes a long way towards mitigating cutesie-wootsie. Just ask the dog that craps in the middle of the living room floor when company's coming (and no, I did not just compare our darling little sunflower seed with a dog - it was just an illustration - lighten up, eh?).
Anyway. Thought I might take this opportunity to start a blog about this grand adventure my wife and I are embarking on together. All kidding aside, I wouldn't want to go on this journey with anyone else. She's a sharp one, she is. I hope I give her some of that encouragement back along the way.
I'll try to keeep the info here up to date. I'm really good at starting things like this blog, actually. The problem will become apparent when my next post comes along right after, say, my child's college graduation. Give or take. I started another blog once - for no reason, really - but I can't remember the last time I posted to it. Hey, you know how it is - life gets in the way.
But I digress...
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