Yesterday, the Cubs took both games of a double header, and thereby clinched the NL Central division title-- the first time in fourteen years, and only the third in my lifetime. They finished it in fine style, too, with a textbook double play. And today they'll cap that victory by retiring #10, Ron Santo having been one of the best third basemen ever to play the game.
Oh, and one more thing: the Boilermakers bounced Notre Dame off the field yesterday. Icing on the cake.
I was not entirely idle while my electronic baby was in the shop. A brief rundown of the last few days:
Orientation Week at Seabury continued apace. I finished the liturgical calendar, and got that distributed. Also set up the cantor rota for the next few weeks, and spent some time pitching the joys of participating in same to incoming students. They do not appear to be a hard lot to persuade, thanks be to God. Already there are a few eager singers, and I have hopes for more.
I'm also learning the ins and outs of putting together the weekly ordo for chapel services. My goal for this work: to have Ruth and Bob's corrections lists eventually be shorter than the ordo itself.
On the home front, we trotted Kyle over to the Dr. for x-rays on his ankle, wrenched during soccer practice. Thankfully, it turned out not to be broken; but it took a couple days for the radiologist to determine that, so the boy was on crutches-- and not happy about it-- in the meantime. It's hard to be the inconspicuous introvert when you have big shiny sticks under your arms everywhere you go.
This morning I'm taking Carolyn to another doctor, in the ongoing effort to shake persistent headaches. Hope this one can be of more help than the last.
And I have my weight in alterations sitting on my sewing table, awaiting my attention. Got to get down there, today.
My laptop, once again fully functional, is back home where it belongs-- and in jig time, too! Check out this timetable--
Monday: Airborne delivers the packing box.
Tuesday: I place my freshly backed up iBook in said box, peel off the old shipping label to reveal the preprinted new one, and trot it over to a local pickup location for shipping.
Wednesday: Airborne leaves a note at the door, asking for a signature because we weren't here when they tried to make a delivery.
Thursday: The box containing my newly repaired iBook is sitting by the front door when we get home.
All told, that actually adds up to a round trip of less than 36 hours. One more reason to love Apple.
Yep. The screen on my computer is acting hinky-- goes weird and fuzzy, then disappears at really inopportune moments. So it will be going back to Uncle Apple for repairs, and be gone (shudder) for about a week. I'll be checking email, and working, on whatever computers I can find (I'm on Bruce's laptop at the moment)-- so I probably wont be blogging, or chatting much. If you see me in a corner, twitching uncontrollably, chalk it up to withdrawl. Fetch me a cool compress, please, and help me lie down until it passes.
No, not mine-- been there, and done that, and been grateful ever since. But beloved brother Tripp, and the lovely and talented Trish, have decided to say "yes" to one another.
Blessings and all good things to both of these grand people.
For someone with an inner child of 6, this has been a very grownup sort of weekend.
Friday was Seabury's Worship Committee retreat-- A dozen or so of the folks involved in planning and preparation of worship, combining prayer time and contemplation of the community's worship life and activity for the upcoming year. My role's rather background-- I will be compiling the weekly ordo this year. This is kind of like a parish bulletin, except it's a sheet with information (hymn numbers, page numbers of prayers in the Prayer Book, that sort of thing) for the whole week's worth of services. It's an organizational thing, so it's something I can do pretty well, I think-- hopefully make it easier for those who are responsible for leading worship to do their jobs more smoothly. At least, that's the plan. The retreat went well-- Susie is Worship Chair this year, and does a bang-up job with such things.
Then Saturday, I drove the two hours to Elkhart, for a meeting with the combined forces of my Standing Committee and Commission on Ministry. This was an "informal check-in" with members of those august bodies for the postulants in our diocese (7 of the 8 of us currently at that point in the process toward ordination were present; the other had just gotten his family moved down to his seminary home for the next three years-- Sewanee, Tennessee-- and so was not able to come back for the day). It was a full day of trotting between scheduled interviews (6 of them), wandering around a large church trying to find where the next group was waiting for me. Generally, folks were most pleasant, though some seemed to see the purpose of the day as less "informal" than others.
When I got home that afternoon (and after a short, but utterly necessary nap), we packed up the family and headed down to Monticello. There is a tiny fellowship there, where I hope to do an internship next summer. The vicar has received a grant for a summer sabbatical to England next year, and I'll be filling in for her while she's gone. The congregation is indeed tiny in numbers, but generous in spirit, both toward us (we spent the night at the Sportsman Inn, and enjoyed breakfast after church as their guests) and the community in which they live. Their building is not a traditional church, but a large old house that they are renovating for use. The chapel is on the main floor, while the upstairs rooms serve as a shelter for homeless people in the area. Good folks, and I'm looking forward to working with them.
I got this quiz from Jenni. Wonder how this is going to go over with my Commission on Ministry?
My inner child is six years old!
Look what I can do! I can walk, I can run, I can read! I like to do stuff, and there's a whole big world out there to do it in. Just so long as I can take my blankie and my Mommy and my three best friends with me, of course.
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Out in the yard with your wife and children
Or working on some stage in L.A.?
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of that black smoke
Rising against that blue sky?
Did you shout out in anger, in fear for your neighbor
Or did you just sit down and cry?
Did you weep for the children who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know?
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below?
Did you burst out with pride for the red, white and blue
And the heros who died just doin' what they do?
Did you look up to Heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself and what really matters?
I'm just a singer of simple songs;
I'm not a real political man.
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran.
But I know Jesus, and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young:
Faith, hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love.
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Teaching a class full of innocent children
Or driving down some cold interstate?
Did you feel guilty, 'cause you're a survivor;
In a crowded room did you feel alone?
Did you call up your mother to tell her you love her?
Did you dust off that bible at home?
Did you open your eyes in hope it never happened,
Or close your eyes and not go to sleep?
Did you notice the sunset for the first time in ages?
Speak to some stranger on the street?
Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow?
Go out and buy you a gun?
Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watching
And turn on I Love Lucy reruns?
Did you go to a church and hold hands with some strangers
Or stand in line and give your own blood?
Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family
And thank God you had somebody to love?
I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man.
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran.
But I know Jesus, and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young:
Faith, hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love.
And now I'm diddling around on here, avoiding going to sleep. I'm tired enough, because I didn't sleep well last night. And I didn't sleep well, because of a nasty nightmare-- ghosts coming back to haunt me. I hate when that happens.
As you will note from Susie's blog, we drove up to Michigan Monday night, to visit Heather and go to the fair. It was an evening of friends, food, and music; what's not to like? Then we drove home, and Susie spent the night (what was left of it) at our place. Brave woman, to voluntarily sleep in a teenager's room.
And I'm glad she got to tell you about it, because my local ISP was down most of Tuesday, and today until late this afternoon. I spent the time suffering severe Internet withdrawl symptoms; it was awful. Yes, I'm an addict.
(Note to those who are concerned about inclusive language: this was written in the 1940's, before anyone had such a notion, and I am not about to be editing one of the most significant theological writers of the 20th century. Translation is left to the reader.)
"The knowledge of Jesus Christ, metamorphosis, love, or whatever other name we may give it, is somehting living, and not something which is given, fixed and possessed once and for all. For this reason there arises every day anew the question how here, today and in my present situation I am to remain and to be preserved in this new life with God, with jesus Christ."
"The greatest of all the dangers which threatened the Church with inner disintegration and disruption lay in the neutrality of large numbers of Christians."
These two sayings necessarily belong together as the two claims of Jesus Christ, the claim to exclusiveness and the claim to totality. But in isolation the claim to exclusiveness leads to fanatacism and slavery; and in isolation the claim to totality leads to the secularization and self-abandonment of the Church. The more exclusively we we acknowledge and confess Christ as our Lord, the more fully the wide range of His dominion will be disclosed to us."
"Christ belongs to both the wicked and the good; He belongs to them both only as sinners, that is to say, as men who in their wickedness and in their goodness have fallen away from the origin."
I just finished reading a little book called The Baptist Identity: Four Fragile Freedoms, written by Walter B. Shurden. I borrowed it from Jeff and Catherine last Saturday. Yes, hard though it may be to believe, it really is Jeff's book-- given to my Anglo-Catholic brother by loving in-laws to broaden his horizons.
It's a good little book; well-written, and easy to follow. My first reaction, upon finishing it, is to think that there's some Baptists out there who need to read it next! Provides a much more reasonable picture of Baptist faith and practice than the one that usually gets the press.
I can also see more clearly why Tripp and Cliff are at such loggerheads upon occasion. The concept of soul freedom, as Shurden explains it, flies directly in the face of the Orthodox understanding of the authority of the church. I need to think about this some more, but I seem to fall, in fine Anglican tradition, somewhere in the middle. I mean, I understand (and agree with) the importance of a personal faith, as it is apparently expressed in traditional Baptist theology; and I'm all about reading and studying Scripture, so as to own it, individually, rather than having some priest tell me what I Ought to Believe It Really Means. However, I also know and believe in the necessary commitment to the larger community that is the church, because I'm not foolish enough to think that my solo interpretation is going to be necessarily correct, either.
And here's another area where I struggle: I want to see "the church" as more than my local congregation, and more than my specific denomination; it's the Body of Christ that is the Universal Church-- the motley collection of sinners and believers that all professing Christians are, together.
I guess I can summarize one more thing I learned about myself in reading that book of Jeff's: I have a more catholic understanding of sacrament, but a more protestant understanding of salvation and polity.
Have I now thoroughly confused you? Good-- it's nice to know I'm not alone.
Today was another wedding day-- this time for Susan and Bill, both dear members of the Seabury family. AKMA offers a more eloquent salute to these fine people than I could manage, so I'll just point his way and say, "Ditto."
Then back with Susie to Jeff and Cat's place, to exchange theological pleasantries with assorted seminary geeks. Gave me a lot to chew on, in bits and pieces. If any of it gels into any sort of coherent thought, I'll let you know.
Have you ever been stalked by scripture? That's what's happening to me this week. A chunk of James keeps cropping up on my radar. It was part of the lectionary reading (RCL version) for last Sunday; it's also Bonhoeffer's focus in the book I'm reading (at least, the portion I'm currently working on). And last night, guess what was the theme of a presentation I heard at a small parish meeting I attended? Yep-- there it was again.
Don't get me wrong; I like James. It's actually one of my favorite books. No beating around the bush, no convoluted logic; just a straightforward "here it is, deal with it" approach to the Good News. Not any easier to live out than other epistles, but at least easier to understand-- usually.
But when I start hearing the same bits like this, from unrelated sources, I begin to wonder if Someone is trying to tell me something-- and then, just what that something might be. Hear, hear, and do not understand; that's me.
Bonhoeffer has been driving around a lot with me lately. Doctor's appointments, soccer practices... you get the idea. I've been spending a lot of time waiting. Fortunately, ol' Dietrich's Ethics are good company-- as well as a great way to get my brain back into that sort of reading mode. Oh, I've been reading this summer, but most of it has been with Kyle: Charlotte's Web and Junie B. Jones have been high on the hit parade. You know, one of the things that I've loved about being a parent is the variety of children's literature to which I've been exposed. Some of it is quite profound; check out Junie's collected works sometime. But seminary reading fires a whole different set of synapses in my brain, and they need some back-to-school conditioning.
Speaking of Back-to-School, I went over to the Open House at the high school last night. It was fun to walk through CJ's schedule, and meet all her teachers (except the vocational graphics teacher, who was off coaching a soccer game). It was easier than I expected, as her classes are not nearly so spread out as they were last year. I also like just walking through the halls. The school is an enormous place, so there's lots to see-- announcements of club activities and events (Homecoming is in just a few weeks), and some terrific artwork. Student originals, as well as some copies of Old Masters that have been painted as murals.
Ok, time to get back in the car. Shopping for presents this morning, which is fun, and then off to the hardware store.
Last evening we drove through the persistent showers, up to a cookout at Sofie's place. Yes, Cliff and Anna live there, too; but Sofie has marked the space as her own, as new babies are wont to do. Of course, she also lived up to another primary baby function: making liars out of her parents. Slept peacefully through most of the evening, and hardly made a sound when she was awake. What could you possibly have to complain about, Cliff?
And as far as baby comparisons go, I won't go so far as to say she's the most beautiful baby ever. I have two of my own that would be in the running for that title. But I will freely declare that she's certainly among the very best of recent vintage. She's a gorgeous little bundle, and her parents are justifiably proud.
In between baby admiration moments, we had a grand time visiting with friends old and new: Susie and Luke, Jeff and Cat, Mitch and Denise, Tripp and Trish. Carolyn had a ball bonding with Trish, and watching the two of them together was uncanny: same size, same mannerisms, same temperment. I kept waiting for the "Twilight Zone" soundtrack to start playing. We're going to have to compare family trees, sometime; that was just eerie.
Oh, and one more thing. If Jeff is cooking, eat whatever he serves you, it will be incredibly good. But keep your distance when he's grilling. Sacristan and lighter fluid: a dangerous combination.
