Good news, bad news, good news

Good news: St. Jerome's Librarian will begin work toward his long-anticpated Ph.D. in homiletics this fall. This bodes well for the future Christian preachers with whom he will share his considerable gifts.

Bad news: this means he and his sweet (and equally talented) wife will be moving their household clear out to the Left Coast, any day now. And will be staying several hundred miles away for at least the next few years.

Bad news: the available, affordable housing for a doctoral student is not what you'd call spacious, which means that a significant portion of his considerable library will have to be put in storage for the forseeable future.

Good news: this frees up several bookshelves, that they have elected to sell at bargain basement prices rather than move or store. I eagerly agreed to buy some-- for home, as well as for the new curate's office at church.

Bad news: along with everything else the shelves needed to be picked up from Evanston this week.

Good news: my friend Cindy was able to go up with me to get them-- and even elected to pick one up for herself.

Bad news: Five sets of shelves required about 2 hours of disassembly, and repeated trips up and down (and up, and down) stairs with heavy particle board shelving, to get everything loaded in the truck. Two un-air-conditioned hours, in 90°+ heat and 70% humidity.

Good news: They all fit, even if we did have to leave the back window of the truck open.
The Cozy Noodle had plenty of ice water to wash down lunch.
The air-conditioning in the truck worked fine, all the way home. As did the stereo.
And now I have bookshelves!

Quotable quotes

The boy has been busy, lately...

At dinner, after his sister said grace, in lieu of the traditional Amen - "All Hail the Great and Powerful God!"

Watching the half-grown goslings by the pond out back, their adult plumage beginning to form - "Do you suppose they have a Feather Fairy? You know, that maybe leaves them worms when their baby feathers fall out?"

Cleaning his room - "Dirt, Beware! It is the Vacuum of Doom, ready to suck up Alllll the Eeee-villl in the Universe! Bwahahahaha!!"

Never a dull moment around here.

Air Force Museum

This is the reason the last quiz was dedicated to my favorite military chaplain. Mark is doing his summer reserve duty at Wright-Patterson AFB this year, located a scant 4 1/2 hour drive from our home. We went over to see him at the beginning of the week (just a short overnight) and our visit included a couple hours at the National Air Force Museum.

It was cool-- a fascinating tour thorugh the history of aviation, as well as the military use thereof. We saw only a small portion of the planes exhibited there (the place is huge!), took turns sitting in an F-16 cockpit (pilots are small people-- I fit just fine, as did our 5'1" daughter), and enjoyed a simulator ride in some jet whose letters I do not at present recall.

Being the sewing geek that I am, I think this was my favorite item on display: An absolutely enormous quilt, assembled in recognition of the 50th anniversary of the Air Force. You can read more about its construction here. It is a gorgeous piece of needlework.

I know there are those among my readers who deplore the use of any sort of military force, and who would likely not consider this display... well, attractive. Truth be told, there is often much about that stance with which I agree. At the same time, this is a legitimate part of our nation's history and culture, and I think denying the positive effects that have come from the defense of this country is as shortsighted and inaccurate as anything coming out of the more hawkish crowd.

I'm glad we went.

Quiz du Jour

This one's for Mark...

What military aircraft are you? F/A-22 Raptor You are an F/A-22. You are technologically inclined, and though you've never been tested in combat, your very name is feared. You like noise, but prefer not to pollute any more than you have to. And you can move with the best.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

Sorrow and Love Flow Mingled Down

One of the best things about my home parish is the weekly Wednesday morning Eucharist. Each week at 9:30, a small group gathers for Communion, and then stays for coffee (or tea) and Bible study. The core group of loyal attendees consists of several widows who have been laughing, crying, praying and expressing blunt, unvarnished opinions together for a very long time. My grandmother was one of the regulars, and I began going when she lived with us. Even though I was decades younger than the rest of them, I was hooked-- and became a regular myself when I was able, though work and then seminary curtailed that the last few years. These women (the self-designated "Loose Ladies") are an ever-lovin' hoot and a half, and I love them all, even (or maybe especially!) when they are at their most direct.

One of my favorite stories: a while back, we were studying the book of Ruth together, and-- spurred by questions about Ruth gleaning in the field-- Ben (the rector, and only man present) went onto a side tangent about the work expected of a woman of the time. It was not an easy life; providing food, clothing and shelter care and maintenance could be backbreaking, exhausting tasks.

After hearing the litany of responsibilities, a woman named Dee piped up. "And then at the end of the day you're still not done," she said. "Because about the time you collapse into bed, what do you hear from the other side of the mattress? 'Hey, baby, come on over here...'

"I'm telling you," she continued, "it makes polygamy look pretty good!"

On Saturday, I will serve as deacon at Dee's funeral. She died yesterday, after battling cancer for the last couple years. She was a feisty joy until nearly the end, and I am grateful for the gift that she has been in my life, and I am purely going to miss her.

May her soul, and the souls of all the departed, rest in peace.

Summer camp

My, it's been busy here! Sorry for the delay, folks. I've been catching up on a lot of things, and the blog had to wait.

So, how was camp? As you can see from the picture (this was my home away from home for the week), the living is suitably rustic. The weather was hot and rainy for the first part of the week, and then dried up and chilled off-- so we were soggy and sweaty, except for when we were adding layers and shivering at night.

This was the boy's first year as an official camper (he was there years ago, as a young mascot-- along for the ride because his mom was on staff, but really too young to participate in the whole experience). I asked him, partway through the week, if he was having a good time, and got an enormous grin as a response. "What's your favorite part?" I inquired further.

Silence. Then, "Oh, that's hard... "

And me? I came back exhausted, with uncounted mosquito bites on my legs. As chaplain, I assisted at worship, sang some very silly and profound music, dealt with homesickness and sunburn, mediated between conflicted preteens, listened to stressed rookie counselors, and helped to treat the first outbreak of lice in the history of the diocesan camp program.

I can't wait until next year.

Camping!

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, the boy and I will be packing up a week's worth of "can't live without," and heading east to our diocesan Summer Camp. He'll be a camper this year, lodging in the Lower Camp (3rd - 6th grade) with an as yet unknown number of 5th and 6th grade boys. Meanwhile, I will be serving as the Upper Camp (7th - 9th grade) chaplain. Yes, they were desperate enough for clergy that the rookie deacon qualifies.

Seriously, this is one area where I'm not such a rookie. I've worked summer camps many, many times in the past-- from the time I was 16, back when "adult supervision" meant the camp director, who was usually somewhere on the grounds (independence which was heady stuff, and great fun-- and from a parent's point of view, I feel much better about the way things are run now). I've always been a cabin counselor, living in with girls of varying ages; and for the most part I've enjoyed the time immensely.

This year, however, will be different. I will be living in the chaplain's quarters. Oh, my days will still be spent hanging with the kids during activities and worship, projects and programs, meals and campfires. At bedtime, however, I get to retire to my cabin in solitary splendor. I will not be kept awake listening to those who snore or talk or grind their teeth in their sleep. Nor will I need to keep a watchful eye out for hormone-ridden charges trying to sneak out for a midnight tryst.

I think I'm going to like this gig.

So far as I know, there is no internet access at the campground, so there will be a lot of radio silence around here for the next several days. To the three or four of you who stop by regularly: I promise a full report when I get back.

See you next week!

Only Six???

This tag is from Susie-- and I thought the last one was a challenge!
Warning: this list is in no particular order, applies only for today, and is subject to change without notice.

List your six favorite songs and tag six others to do the same.

• Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing - Hymnal 1982, #686
• Seven Bridges Road - The Eagles
• Why Walk When You Can Fly - Mary Chapin Carpenter
• I Feel You - 3 Doors Down
• Leather & Lace - Stevie Nicks & Don Henley
• Turn the Page - Bob Seger

Tagging six of you? I'm not good at that-- but please, come try narrowing your favorites list down. It ain't easy!

So many books, so little time...

Wes tagged me for this one, so here goes...

How Many Books Do You Own?

• Around 300, in my seminary library; and then maybe another couple hundred after that. We went through a purge a few years back, and gave a bunch away. This does not include my husband's collection of comic books and graphic novels; if it did, the number would go WAY up.
  

What is the Last Book You Bought?

• Gather - a contemporary Christian music book/hymnal

What is the Last Book You Read?

• I just finished rereading Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. The first non-seminary-related book I've picked up in a while.

Name Five Books That Mean a Lot to You.
(The Bible and Book of Common Prayer, of course; but besides those...)

• The Naked Sun - Isaac Asimov
• To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
• The Shattered Chain - Marion Zimmer Bradley
• Taming of the Shrew - Shakespeare
• Diary of a Young Girl - Anne Frank

Rather than my tagging anyone--y'all feel free to answer at will.

Rainbow

This evening we had a lovely, solid rain. No thunder or lightning, so the boy was out playing in it, of course-- and spotted this.

Now, I'm an engineer by training. I understand the science of how rainbows happen: light refracting, being bent as it travels through the water droplets, etc., etc.

But you know what? A rainbow is still a God-given miracle, a shining promise of hope through tears, and the best reason there is for going out in the rain.

Lower back adventures

I'm home. This is a good thing; I'm eager to get back into family routine.

So I was going to wake up first thing Saturday morning and get to work. Our living room is chock full of boxes that need to be unpacked and sorted-- books and papers and miscellaneous etc. that lived with me at school for the last three years. I was actively looking forward to getting everything organized, filed and put away-- a most satisfying prospect, really. . .

All right, I realize this is not the sort of activity that normally makes the heart race with anticipation; but the process of bringing order out of chaos in such a visible way does have its own appeal. Too much clutter distracts me; it leaves me antsy and out of sorts. So getting rid of that enormous pile of cardboard-encased stuff squating in the middle of my traffic pattern is someting I want to get to, ASAP.

But my back had other plans.

Somehow, I overdid something Thursday or Friday. At this point, I'm inclined to blame the hours and hours spent before, during and after commencement, standing around on stone floors and concrete sidewalks in dress shoes. Not high heels-- I haven't worn anyting higher than 2" since I had back surgery several years ago-- but certainly not the sneakers, loafers or boots that I normally wear.

Whatever the reason, my back was not happy with me. In fact, it was decidedly unhappy-- enough that I had trouble getting out of the car when I got home Friday night, and the next two days were spent trying not to move much-- on ice packs, antinflammatories and Stupid Drugs (so called because taking them leaves me feeling as though my brain has turned into dryer lint). I haven't had it go out like this for more than a year. And I haven't missed that experience. Not only am I not fond of pain, but I detest not being able to function properly. (Now, I know there are those of you out there who will gently point out the spiritual virtues of having to step back, accept help, engage in some self-care time, etc., etc. Yes, of course you're right. Now stow it.)

Thankfully, I am slowly improving. I was able to leave off the Stupid Drugs when the Ref. and LW came down Monday, and even to take them over to show them where I'll be working for this next year. I had also offered to take them up to the Dunes, but that was more than I could manage. It's a real shame, as that area is one of the best things about northwest Indiana. I hope I can get them back there someday.

Anyway, we went home for dinner and conversation; then the next morning the Ref joined me (early risers, unite!) for a walk, as I began to work the kinks out.

Today it continues to improve; the pain is subsiding to mere soreness, and is almost unnoticable for short periods, so long as I continue to be careful. Which I do, trust me on this.

All those boxes are still there, of course. Just where is that darn fairy godmother when you need her?? Without her magical aid, the goal is to get them emptied before Sunday, when I leave for a week at our diocesan youth camp (more about that later).

Have I mentioned how much I loathe being incapacitated?

Gifts

Now, where did I leave off? Let's see. . .

Tuesday - Senior class dinner, and we had a marvelous time: gifts of great conversation and great food were present in quantity. If you're ever up on the north side of Chicago, stop by Wishbone for dinner, and leave room for dessert. Wow.

Wednesday - I used up some ordination gift certificates at The Bookshelf, and emerged just in time to greet Rev. Ref. and the Lovely Wife as they arrived on campus, after the marathon drive from Montana. They brought home with them, though. The Rev. had donned his cowboy cleric best, from hat to boots, and LW came bearing gifts: Moose Drool dark ale and Bear Poo candy (no, I am not making this up-- and both were tasty, though I will admit to preferring the chocolate to the beer).

I served as AKMA's deacon and preached in the chapel that afternoon, for the last time as a student. It was good: no one ran screaming from the nave, and it felt right to be able to really begin my goodbyes that way. I'm grateful to have had the opportunity-- to have been given the gift of that service.

That evening I went with a group out to dinner, where I ate way too much Italian food and shared some yummy strawberry shortcake. After that we wandered back to Heather's place for further conviviality, and gifts of music from Susie and Si, custom-made for our Seabury family tree.

Thursday - Rehearsal for commencement, and much senioritis was present. Afterward the Ref. and I went out to eat. We've had a long-standing agreement, he and I, that whoever got out to visit the other first would be treated to dinner; one of the rare occasions I've been happy to lose a bet. The rest of the evening was spent with friends, being silly and serious, laughing and crying... sharing the gift of some last-minute memories worth keeping.

Friday - Graduation. Words of comfort and love; uncounted hugs given and received; family and dear friends present; smiles shining through the sparkle of tears... gifts too numerous to mention.

Then Frank graciously allowed a group of us to co-opt his backyard and grill for an impromptu barbecue-- an extra gift of unexpected time together, shared over food and drink.

And then we loaded the last of my dorm room boxes into car and truck, and headed home. No, that's not quite right. My husband and the kids left immediately; I tarried just a while longer. Long enough to spend some time sitting in my favorite spot in the chapel: the gift of one final prayer, one final quiet conversation in that sacred space.

And then, in the car and home. A few remaining tears, and then singing along with a CD-- another musical gift-- cranked to unreasonable volume as I cruised down Lake Shore Drive and the Dan Ryan.

This has been a jam-packed, complicated, marvelous, bittersweet, joyful time. And I thank God for each and every second of it.

The Feast of Justin, Martyr of Rome

(Delivered in Seabury-Western's chapel today. The Collect and appointed scriptures may be found here.)

Recognize these? These are my Early Church History trading cards. Of all the stuff I’ve accumulated over the last three years, I will admit to you that these silly things are on my short list of favorites. Okay, so they're a little geeky; but then, I'm a little geeky. I think they're really cool.

This is the card for Justin Martyr, whose life and example we remember today. The card notes that Justin died in the year 167, and that he was a lay philosopher and theologian. It also tells me that the collect we prayed a few minutes ago was correct-- he really did wander from teacher to teacher trying to learn wisdom. My card notes that he first studied under a Stoic philosopher, then a Peripatetic (Aristotelian), then a Pythagorean, then a Platonist.

The boy got around.

Now, wisdom was a big deal in pagan philosophies. But in my newfound alter-ego as Bible-rella, the “buxom yet wholesome Indiana farm girl who discovers the magical powers of scripture” I will remind you that the Bible also talks a lot about wisdom. Solomon was famous for it, of course-- and there's even a whole book in the apocryphal writings called the Wisdom of Solomon. Job, psalms, Proverbs, prophets... it's all over. And it is usually seen as a Good Thing: seeking after wisdom is a long-standing tradition. “Get wisdom, and get insight,” the Proverbs say. "Say to wisdom, 'You are my sister,' and call understanding your kinsman."

Then we read Paul. And I'm sure no one is surprised that he's a little contrary. Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth takes a different tack. Paul says foolishness is how God decides to reach us. “God’s foolishness,” he says, “is wiser than human wisdom.”

Justin certainly found that to be true. After all that work, he suddenly found enlightenment, and a purpose for his life (and death) in a single conversation with an old man on the beach. Doesn't that sound foolish to you? I mean, here's this very well-educated man, a lifelong seeker after wisdom and knowledge, who-- after years of intentional study and training in some serious philosophical disciplines-- finds enlightenment in a chat with some stranger? That's illogical; it makes no sense to the engineer side of my brain at all.

But you know, when I think of my time here at Seabury, I can understand. Today is the last day of classes-- the last one of the year for most people here; and truly the last one for those of us graduating. I have Frank Yamada’s class on Exilic Prophets at 3:00 this afternoon; and when I walk out of there, I will be done. Done! Three years spent studying, and reading, and writing papers, and taking online quizzes, and blogging, and presentations, and projects, and small groups. . . all that work, and learning, in an effort to develop some wisdom and understanding.

However, much of what I will take with me from this place, and some of the most important things I’ve learned, came to me in some foolish moments well away from our classrooms, and in ways that defy logic.

• I learned that the best way to begin an intentional, formal, structured seminary education is by skipping up and down the aisle of the chapel, singing with a new friend.

• I learned that traveling to Mississippi was a great way to get to know a guy from California, and a woman from Ohio.

• I learned that a walk down to D&D’s for cheese fries really can solve some of the world’s problems-- at least, temporarily.

• I learned that in the blink of an eye, a sterile emergency room can become sacred space; and an old Eagles song can become sacred music.

In short, the silly, illogical, whimsical moments I have shared here with you all have taught me some of the most complex and profound lessons of my life.

So this is my prayer for you, my brothers and sisters; my prayer for us all: that, along with all the wisdom we’ve learned, we will remember to be foolish.

• To listen for and to hear the sacred in the silly and mundane.
• To see the hand of God in every human life, even (or maybe especially!) within disagreement and misunderstanding.
• To feel the presence of our omnipotent God, and Jesus, crucified and risen, in simple bread and simple wine.
• To live as we are called, as agents both of godly comfort and holy discontent.