Fits and Starts

For the last three years or so my life has seemed to move forward in fits and starts. I've wandered for awhile. I needed to do that. I've thought and prayed – a lot. I've searched. And dreamed.

I know that the thing I miss most is the camaraderie of community and the stimulation of differing thoughts and opinions. I miss the growth spurred by questions and varied viewpoints. I've looked but I can't find anything that meets my needs – so it's time to create it with the help of anyone who wants the same things.

I'm finally ready. Consider this your personal invitation. Let's find our voices again, together.

Who: You and anyone you care to bring with you

What: Bible Study

When: Wednesday, December 2, 2009 • 7:00 p.m.

Where: My house

What to Bring: your Bible, your laptop computer (if you have wireless capability), a notebook and a writing implement

Leave a comment here, email me or text me to let me know you're coming.

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs;

ask yourself what makes you come alive.

And then go and do that thing.

Because what the world needs, right now, is people who have fully come alive. "

– Harold Thurman (American author, philosopher, theologian, educator and civil rights leader. He was Dean of Theology and the chapels at Howard University and Boston University for more than two decades, wrote 20 books, and in 1944 helped found the first racially integrated, multicultural church in the United States)

Sunday Afternoon Football

Browns 37

Lions 38

It was an exciting, heart-stopping game and so much FUN! The two worst teams in the NFL, battling in what Sports Illustrated is calling "one for the ages."

He's At It Again

Oliver is at it again. But now it's rabbits – one very large rabbit to be specific. He came in the house with rabbit fur stuck to his feet. It was horrifying. . . Happy Weekend to me. . .

Sins and Legacies

I've been thinking about Judas and Peter lately. In case you don't know the stories, or have forgotten them, here they are in the briefest of forms. Read the references if you want more detail.

Judas Iscariot – one of the original twelve disciples of Jesus. He was the treasurer of the group. The "official religious people in charge" were looking for a way to arrest Jesus. In exchange for 30 pieces of silver, Judas signaled who Jesus was to the arresting soldiers by kissing him on the cheek. Judas was so overcome with guilt for this betrayal that he returned the bribe and committed suicide by hanging himself.

Simon Peter - also one of the original twelve disciples. On the night Jesus was arrested, three different people asked Peter if he knew this man named Jesus or if he was a follower of him. On all three counts Peter adamantly denied that he had ever had anything to do with him.

So, this is what's been on my mind. Both of these guys were handpicked by Jesus to be his disciples. They had each spent three years in his company, doing good works and basically changing the world. In one evening they both sinned. Judas betrayed Jesus for money. Peter betrayed Jesus because he was afraid of guilt by association.

Judas handled his betrayal by promptly going to the nearest scaffolding and hanging himself.

Peter betrayed Jesus three times and we don't hear much from him for awhile. He took some time off and I'm assuming did some soul searching. Eventually he finds his voice again and becomes the "rock" on which the church is built. He goes on to become Saint Peter.

It just seems to me that the way they handled their sin became their legacy.

I'm guessing the "official Christians in charge" were quite pleased with Judas' choice. Quick, clean and done with that. Moving on. Judas who?

What forces do you suppose Peter ran into when he found his voice again? He was a disappointment. He showed moral failure. How could he possibly be a role model? Who could listen to anything he had to say and not laugh at his hypocrisy?

I'm coming to the conclusion that Peter is just one more example of God's stunning choice of always picking the least, the last and the lost. God makes me laugh. Either that, or cry.

I emailed some of these questions to a friend who's struggling with her own calling. She's about to graduate from seminary and isn't sure what the future holds for her. I asked her how we keep from becoming Judas and this is part of her wise response:

"I'm not sure how [to] keep from becoming Judas. I'm not even sure how many ways there are to be Judas and slip quietly into the night. For you, does it mean not exercising that gift of preaching and pastoring? For me, does it mean that I come this far and decide that I cannot subject my soul to another "process" should one even arise? Or does the fact that we're still standing, still praying, still reading the Bible, still ministering to the people that God brings us, does that right there make us Peter already?"

I honestly don't know. If you're reading this right now and have some thoughts I would be most grateful if you would share them. In the meantime, I think I'm going to quit reading the Bible. . .

Priceless

1 Hospitalization

1 Complimentary Nail Trim

1 Feline Rabies Injection

1 Presurgical Screening

1 Feline Declaw & Ovariohysterectomy

1 5 lb. bag Yesterday's News cat litter

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$302.60

5 days worth of Buprenex for feline pain control

Watching 1 stoned kitten stagger around the house staring at nothing

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PRICELESS! Welcome Home Izzy Kitty!

Musings

Consumed With: Thinking about Judas, Peter and their legacies. Will be writing on this soon.

Hoping For: Change. Goes against my nature, and my otherwise firm conviction that my life is perfectly perfect just as it is, but there you have it.

Listening To: According to iTunes I listen to A Better Way by downhere more than any other song. Interesting.

Enjoying: Just-baked bread, still warm from the oven. Working in fits and starts on a knitting project that's been on the needles for about three years now. I may finish it some day. I may not. It doesn't really matter since I'm still enjoying the process.

Just Finishing: The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson. Not quite as good as his first, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, but still an adrenaline pumping read.

Just Starting: Half Broke Horses: A True-Life Novel by Jeannette Walls. Loving it - strong women, great style!

Watching: A few sprinkles dripping from the sky.

Thankful For: A good friend and amazing person who texts me every so often just to see how I am. She's one of my oldest friends and she has no idea how much I appreciate her random care. Thanks N.

Wishing That: The grey would lift. Soon.

This Week's Sign That The Apocalypse Is Upon Us

Isn't it enough that stores are full of Christmas trees? Or that a local radio station starts every hour with three Christmas carols? Or that I saw Santa Claus hawking pizza on the sidewalk yesterday?

Apparently not. This Week's Sign That The Apocalypse Is Upon Us is really more of a sound. Since I don't have a recording, you'll have to settle for a description.

Emanating from our shower this morning was a full voiced, operatic version of O Holy Night. It was complete with the screeching ending – you know the one – "o niiiiiiiiiiight. . .(wait for it). . .DEE-VIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE. . .O night. . .O night divine. . ."

There was a moment of silence in which I could only hear the water running. Suddenly the silence was punctuated with giggles. Apparently she amused herself.

And I couldn't help but smile.

It's Her, The Claws or Me

We came to a difficult decision yesterday. We wrestled with the implications such a decision would make for weeks, going back and forth. The doctor had given us a stern talk, full of warnings and cautions. His final words were, "The only way this is acceptable is if you say she will have no home if we don't." Yikes.

Yes.

No.

It's not natural.

It would be inhumane.

If we don't do something, she has to go.

It required an uncomfortable, guilt inducing phone call. The person on the other end of the line was understanding. I took a deep breath and said the magic words:

"I'm calling to make a change in the surgery schedule. Miss Izzy has an attitude and it is expressed with her claws. If we don't do something, it's going to either be her, her claws or me finding a new home. . ."

Surgery is schedule for the 17th. Sorry Izz. . . but one part of this little problem has to go.

Don't be fooled by the cute exterior. I'm convinced that she's laying there on the kitchen table in the sun thinking, "Awww. . . they think I'm so cute! They don't realize I'm waiting for them to let their guard down so that I can kill them and take over the empire!!!"

Weekend Reading – The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

If you're looking for a good read check out The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson. If you can get through about the first 40 pages or so – fasten your seatbelt!

I'm not very far past where it really starts to pulse but I can't put it down. The first part of the novel sets up a dense plot that takes some getting used to. It's set it Sweden and the author is Swedish so many of the places and spellings are unfamiliar. It's worth giving it time to get used to.

From Amazon:

"Henrik Vanger, an elderly Swedish industrialist, has long been receiving the same anonymous gift on his birthday: a single framed flower. He is convinced the series of flowers has something to do with his great-niece Harriet who vanished decades ago in mysterious circumstances when she was just 16.

Vanger coerces a disgraced and prison-bound journalist, Mikael Blomkvist, to do some research into the disappearance. In exchange for information on his niece, Vanger promises Blomkvist enough dirt to take down the rich man who is sending him to jail.

So begins "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo," a blockbuster best-seller in Europe. As Blomkvist moves closer to the truth, he teams up with the titular character, a tattooed detective named Lisbeth Salander who's the real star of the show. Together they uncover things that stun even Blomkvist, a crusading financial reporter who thought he knew all there was to know about the rot of corruption, the myriad abuses of power and the darkest sides of ourselves."

One heck of a good way to spend a chilly Saturday afternoon! Bring it on!

Naked Need

I'm good at hiding my needs. I stuff, sublimate, ignore, numb or simply neglect. Isn't that what all "well adjusted" people do? If our needs are totally transparent we risking becoming selfish, high maintenance or even whiny.

Oliver has no such fears. He's never been a needy dog. Sunshine, a fenced-in back yard, some squirrels for entertainment, a head pat or belly rub a day and he's been good to go. Until lately.

Being a dog, he has no idea how to hide things. Since being forced to stay off the furniture because of an emerging trend towards aggressive dominance a few months ago, his needs have changed. He wants to be held, stroked, reassured, loved – and his naked need is breaking my heart.

There is a chasm between the ottoman where Oliver lays, always intently watching us, and the chair where we are sitting. He knows no other way than to risk crossing the chasm with this little body, inch by inch, until his front half is being held on my lap and his back half hangs in the balance.

For him, the fear of falling is nothing compared to the fear of not being loved. There is no aggression. No dominance. Just a wagging tail and an unwavering gaze of connection.

If the chasm between the chair and ottoman is too wide he simply throws himself into the separation and quietly lays his head in my lap, content to stand that way as long as I allow the connection to continue.

Maybe it's not the neediness of his actions that breaks my heart. Perhaps it's the pure vulnerability.

I sit on one side of the chasms in my life and stare across the empty space. I can't bear the thought of another rejection. Throwing myself into the separation seems suicidal so I sit here and write. And think.

And I am forced to wonder – who's more "well adjusted". . . him or me?

This Week's Sign That The Apocalypse Is Upon Us

When I was an older kid I started reading my Dad's copy of Sports Illustrated. I did it because I loved my Dad and wanted to read what he was reading. It's the same reason I was a Kentucky Wildcat basketball fan and the same reason I went to bed lots and lots of nights with my black transistor radio secreted away under my blankets, tuned very quietly to Marty Brenneman calling the Cincinnati Reds game.

My favorite parts of the Sports Illustrated magazine were Frank Deford's columns (which I sometimes didn't understand, but sometimes made me laugh out loud), the little corner of page two or three where they featured a few small town athletes who had done something amazing in their sport that week, and the small section entitled "This Week's Sign That The Apocalypse Is Upon Us." Coming from a fundamentalist church where I was completely terrified of the Apocalypse, this irreverent little section of bizarre superstitions or outlandish sports behaviors made my week. To this day, when I see something incredibly silly, bizarre or outlandish there's this tiny little voice in my head that whispers, "It's a sign that the apocalypse is upon us!" and I think of Sports Illustrated and my Dad.

All of this wordiness about magazines and sports and irreverence is to introduce what may be a new feature for this little corner of the blog world – This Week's Sign That The Apocalypse Is Upon Us.

When I was in Wal-Mart this morning I saw this.

The voice in my head totally screamed it – "This Week's Sign That The Apocalypse Is Upon Us!!!" I'll leave the commentary as to why this may be signaling the impending end of the world to your personal opinion.

I see stuff that makes me think this a lot. Usually it makes me laugh. I think Thursdays will be the day to look for new signs.

Of Paper Bags, Candy and Halloween Memories

On trick-or-treat night last week I was driving down the street of a modest neighborhood in town. The mostly ranch style houses were festive with Halloween decorations. Most were gently scary – grinning pumpkins, orange blinking lights, ghosts made from bedsheets swaying in the trees. The kids were just beginning to emerge from their houses, bags at the ready to haul home their candy stash.

I slowed down wanting to watch their joy and animation. I remembered the feverish anticipation of choosing what my sister and I wanted to be each year, planning the best candy-hauling routes and meeting my schoolmates to see their costumes.

As I rounded a curve in the street I saw the quintessential Halloween tradition – a tiny little boy dressed as a cowboy, standing on his front porch with his plastic pumpkin in his hands, waiting for Daddy to take his picture. He looked a little anxious, as if he were not sure that walking around and asking strangers for candy was necessarily going to be a fun thing.

How many pictures of yourself do you have from trick or treat night? If you are lucky, you can probably chronicle your childhood in Halloween costume photos. I remember being a witch, an Indian princess and being a hobo on at least two occasions. Hobo was always the last minute costume of choice – throw on your Dad's clothes, put a handkerchief stuffed with paper on the end of a stick and make your face dirty with your mom's mascara and you're good to go!

Most of my costumes were homemade. It was before the "Disney-fication" of all things Halloween. Not to mention that my parents couldn't, or didn't see the necessity of, plunking down $35 for a costume made from the textile equivalent of tissue paper! The year I remember being an Indian princess my mom helped me take a brown paper grocery bag and cut it the bottom out of it. We slit it up the center and added arm holes before decorating it with beaded trim, fringe, and of course, all the colors in my 64 pack of Crayolas!

I still love the simple innocence of Halloween. Every year I watch "It's The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown" and remember the simple pleasures of Bit 'O Honey feeling like it's pulling your teeth out, trading Milky Way bars for Snickers from my sister and giving my dad all the Three Musketeer bars. . .all while wearing a scratchy, crinkly paper bag vest and feeling like the happiest kid in the world.

Iconic Writing

Years and years ago I worked in the commercial printing department of the small, weekly paper in Bluffton. I mostly developed photos for the paper. Very early, every Wednesday morning I would shoot the pages and turn them into huge negatives that were burned onto printing plates before being printed.

The editor at the time was Fred Steiner. I've always admired Fred's writing style. His strength is turning small town activity into something that feels timeless and personal. There isn't a lot of excitement in a small town, but week after week Fred turned out a paper that made everyone feel connected. It also never failed to make me smile with it's relationships and descriptions of what it felt like to live in Bluffton.

Fast forward a few years and the owner of the Bluffton News made a huge mistake. Like a lot of folks, Fred found himself looking for a job.

He's now the creator and publisher of the online news source The Bluffton Icon. In Fred's own words, he wants the Icon to "become a magnet for Bluffton information and a place where viewers may express their own points of views. Look at it sort of like a coffee shop, it will become a gathering point for people."

I was excited to read the Icon. I was happy to be able to read Fred's writing again and, even though I no longer live in Bluffton, I love having the ability to feel again what it's like to live in a small town.

I'm even more excited that I'm contributing some writing to the Icon! Some of the posts that I've written here are beginning to appear with other columnists at the Icon site. It's great fun for me to share my writing and I hope it contributes in a positive way to Fred's new virtual "coffee shop!"

Sneak over and take a look!

Sunday Morning Wrestling

This is known as the Three Quarter Neck Breaker in the pro wrestling world!

The dreaded Body Avalanche is so much more effective with the slanty eyed stare of death!

This is the end of the Bionic Elbow Drop in which the attacking wrestler drops a double elbow move on the opponent's head – and brings out the evil green eyes of the one who is pinned. (click to see the evil eyes - if you dare!)

The Bronco Buster move entails the attacking wrestler jumping from the corner of the ring (or the chair!) and sitting on the opponent's chest - often bouncing up and down for general effect.

This is the Trapping Headbutt move. The wrestler holds both the opponent's arms under his own, and delivers a series of headbutts to his opponent, who is unable to counter.


Finally, exhaustion sets in and the spectacle ends with the Double Snoozer move in which the tuckered out wrestlers see which can out-snore the other.

Is It Any Wonder?

Is it any wonder. . .that their child isn't A honor student??

We spotted this yesterday while driving down Tiffin Avenue. We had to follow the truck all the way into the mall parking lot and then wait for the driver to exit the vehicle so we could nonchalantly stroll over and snap the pic with the camera phone.

It was worth all the trouble.