Just Stop Talking, Please

Pastor Messer at Abide in My Word is asking for comments on a video he recently posted. It is a great example of what many of us mean these days when we use the term "Contemporary Worship." (I capitalize the words to make a distinction between worship that is Contemporary and worship that is contemporary. All worship is by definition small "c" contemporary since it is something that happens in the present.)

Anyway, I encourage you to watch the video and participate in the discussion. As I was doing just that, I came across another video from the same church, Faith Lutheran in Troy, Michigan, that I think is quite lovely. It is a flute choir, accompanied by piano, playing an arrangement of "Be Still, My Soul" as the Prelude to the service. Whereas my church would never present anything musically comparable to the video posted at Pastor Messer's blog, I could easily see us doing something like this. It is a reverent instrumental interpretation of a hymn from our synodical hymnal (LSB 752) presented at an appropriate time in the service. The problem comes when the Prelude is over. Instead of embracing the stillness and quiet of that moment when the music is over and the service is about to start, the "audience" breaks into applause. What happened to "Be Still, My Soul"? And then, wouldn't you know it, the pastor has to come out and add his own two cents about the whole thing (starting at about 3:40 in the video):

"Praise God for instruments, right? I hope that that music that was played would help set your minds on, as the Bible says, things above, not on earthly things . . . . When we come in to worship . . . that's God's doing, and He's here, right with us, and He helps us to worship, Amen?" That comment is followed by an introduction and additional chatter.

Before I opine further, here's the video:



Again, I think the music is very nice. The applause and the pastor's comments ruin it. How much better if once the Prelude were over the service continued, without interruption, into the Confession and Absolution. No discussion needed. Just confess the sins and get the absolution. It's almost as if by talking about how God is present, the pastor is trying to convince himself and the congregation of the fact. The pastor is correct in saying that worship is "God's doing" but then he contradicts that statement with all his talk. And that's the problem with much of the Contemporary Worship I see. The people so often seem to be trying to convince themselves that God is acting by their talking and singing about how they feel. If we trust that God is present in Word and Sacrament we don't need to talk about it, we don't need to demonstrate it, and we don't need to look to others to demonstrate it to us. All we need to do is soak it in.

In sum, we don't need to try so hard.

Disturbing

At the 2010 convention of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, my husband was elected to the Board for International Mission, newly formed as a result of the synodical restructuring that was approved at the same convention. As part of his duties on the board, he has been giving the assignment of reading a book on missiology: Mission from the Cross: The Lutheran Theology of Mission (Klaus Detlev Schulz, Concordia Publishing House, 2009). This morning, he shared this passage from the book with me:

"Mission typically penetrates areas where the negative effects resulting from man's inability to be good stewards of God's creation are starkly apparent. Werner Elert once compared our failure to be good stewards to riders in a closed paddock where the horses are allowed to trample everything under the hoof. Therefore, not everything brought into this world through the progress of civilization should be seen in a positive light. The alarming increase of the world's population, the ongoing drain on the world's resources, the destruction of pristine rain forests, the pollution of land and water, and atomic radiation are all a result of human failure. The myriad of such failures prove that in order to be better stewards of God's world and creation, we must use our reason in a faithful and conscientious way. For God placed the obligation of taking care of His creation into the hands of humans . . . ."

I am speechless, utterly speechless to see this sentence-- "The alarming increase of the world's population . . . [is] a result of human failure"--coming out of our synodical publishing house. The increase of life is never alarming. It has nothing to do with human failure. It does not drain resources. God gives it and wherever he does so we are to receive it with joy as a blessing, not look upon it as a burden or lapse in stewardship. Whatever other good there is in this book, and I'm sure there is some for it to have been assigned for board study, this sentence for me would call it all into question. Did anyone even read it before it was assigned as a guidebook for one of our synod's governing boards? Both possible answers--the affirmative and the negative--are disturbing indeed.

Disturbed . . .

. . . by so many things these days. The world, even more than usual, seems turned upside down. Things I thought I could depend on, people I thought I could believe in, "experts" whose judgment I thought I could trust, leaders who are not leading, "friends" who may or may not fit that designation . . . all of it seems called into question. I find myself wondering whom I can trust, what I can embrace without hesitation, what I can rely on without doubt. The answer comes back: nothing and no one save Him who is eternal. I know this. Why is it so easy to forget?

At Long Last, or How I Spent My Weekend

Last spring we began making plans for a major home project. We finally embarked upon it this fall. It is not primarily a remodel but a repair, as it was necessitated by the accelerating decline of an aging, leaky sunroom that was causing water damage to our house. After researching our options and the associated costs, we decided that our best course of action was not to repair or to replace but to remove the offending structure. That removal opened up some other possibilities for changes to that part of our home, one of which was the building in of custom bookshelves (yay!). As our house has been in a state of flux and mess and chaos for months now, those bookshelves have been a lodestar to get me through the remodeling darkness. So you can imagine my elation last weekend when they finally arrived and this weekend when they were at long last installed!

I wish I had taken a few more "before" pictures. I had to search for one of the interior of our family room (which adjoins to the sunroom). Here is a shot from Christmas of 2009. Beyond the 2-way fireplace and the glass panels on each side is the sunroom that was built on to the back of our house (not by us).

Here's an outside shot of the sunroom.

A shot from inside the sunroom of the other side of the fireplace and glass panels.

Bye-bye, sunroom and hello, patio.

Then, the plastic time.

Finally the plastic was gone and dry wall took its place!

No more glass. No more 2-way fireplace.

HELLO, BOOKSHELVES! After seeing them in place, we found ourselves wishing we could have replaced the brick, too.

It was a major undertaking to move all those books. I'm tired and my back and feet hurt. But I'm so pleased with the result! I wish I had taken a photo of the old, falling apart shelves.

LP records and games are stored in the cabinets.

There is much left to be done. New siding is on the back of the house (you will have to wait until spring for a picture of that), but gutters and downspouts are not. Landscaping will also wait until spring. The bookshelves are actually not quite complete--crown molding and knobs for the cabinets are coming. A new mantel and eventually a new fireplace will be installed. A new sliding glass door is already in place in the kitchen, but it still needs trimming and staining. Ceilings and walls need painting. Carpet needs to be stretched and stapled back in place. I'm sure I'm leaving something out. But for now, we finally have a family room that is functional!

Until the painters come . . . .

For What It's Worth

My previous post on cyberspace was intended to be descriptive, not prescriptive. I read an article and then did some thinking out loud about my own approach to some of the issues the article raised. Everything in my blog post was personal to me, outlining only what I am comfortable with in my own online interactions. It was not intended to be instructive for anyone else. So in case I communicated otherwise, let me now be clear: God did not say, "Thou shalt not vague-book" or "Thou shalt not text" or "Thou shalt not chat" and neither did I. What I did say is that for various reasons these things don't work for me. That doesn't mean I would presume to tell others to stop doing them. I know people who have the rule of not posting anything remotely political or religious on Facebook because they don't want to risk offending or angering someone or opening themselves up to those sorts of discussions. That is fine--it is what they are comfortable with. For them to have that rule for themselves does not mean that it applies to me, and I don't take it as such.

As long as you are not breaking one of the Biblical Ten Commandments, you are free to do, without guilt, whatever you please, in cyberspace and elsewhere. If I seemed to imply otherwise, I am sorry.

Do You Serve Cyberspace or Does It Serve You?

I saw this article * linked on a friend's Facebook page. It is a review of a book by Sherry Turkle, Alone Together, which, in reviewer Eric Felten's words, considers "whether the powerful electronic tools we are adopting may be deforming us." Felten observes that in recent years there have been a number of books on this topic but asserts that Turkle's book offers an original take on the question: "What she brings to the topic that is new is more than a decade of interviews with teens and college students in which she plumbs the psychological effect of our brave new devices on the generation that seems most comfortable with them."

Here in a nutshell are a few of the facts of today's plugged-in lifestyle that many of us are having to come to terms with:

1) The condition of constantly being "on": Between the internet, email, blogs, Facebook/MySpace, Twitter, chat, cell phones, and texting, the electronic media monster is ubiquitous.

2)The pitfalls of leaving an electronic history that can never be escaped.

3)The danger of using electronic communication as a means of avoiding human contact.

4)The need to control and manage one's public face, which can easily become an unhealthy obsession or tool for deception.

I think articles such as this raise concerns that all of us who engage in electronic communication would do well to reflect on. I have been doing that for the past few days and I encourage my readers to do the same. Here are some of the ways I personally manage (or fail to manage) each of the heads of the online monster (corresponding to the four points above):

1) Of the items in the list for #1 above, I make use of the internet for general purposes and of email, blogging, Facebook, and cell phones. I have a Twitter account but don't use it. Elephant's Child says I should delete it. Maybe I will--it was created for a certain purpose and now that purpose is gone. I keep chat turned off in email and Facebook. As much as I love my friends, I don't like being interrupted for the purpose of what is usually casual/trivial conversation when I am at the computer trying to get something purposeful done. I don't send or receive text messages (to the surprise and inconvenience of friends and non-friends alike). That is not because I decided against it on principle, but because I don't want to pay for it and I don't like typing with my thumbs. That may change when my oldest son goes to college, since he doesn't like to talk on the phone any more than I do.

My assessment of my connectedness is that I am probably more "plugged-in" than I should be. As a more-or-less stay-at-home mom, I have email and Facebook always available for the checking. They are probably my greatest temptation away from things I should be doing. I have arrived at a comfortable level of online reading, doing it mostly in the morning with my coffee or at night before I turn off the light. By not participating in online chatting or phone texting, I limit my availability to casual messaging. I don't know if I realized until reading this article how much of a help that may be to erecting a fence around my flesh and blood self to keep the online behemoth at bay. I found this quotation from the article, a teenager's lament about the inability to escape the communications of her peers, rather poignant:

Teens may embrace the peculiar sociability that the wireless computer makes possible, Ms. Turkle says, but they do so with unease and ambivalence. To put it in theater terms, they are "on" all the time, expected to respond immediately to every text, every IM, every scribble on their Facebook walls. There is no escape from the pestering, nudging, hectoring, chattering demands of being connected. Many high-schoolers are more exhausted than exhilarated by their virtual lives. "I can't imagine doing this when I get older," says one student about the hours he devotes to meeting the demands of his online social life. "How long do I have to continue doing this?"

I would say to that student, "You don't have to do it at all. You don't owe anybody, save family, that much of your time, and you can communicate with your family in other ways."

2) and 4). I think these are two sides of the same coin. If one is going to have an online presence, there is a need to moderate it. In the same way that we don't divulge our entire beings to people we meet in real life, we don't do so in cyberspace, and I think that's appropriate. We all have different "faces" that we wear for different areas of our lives, and our online life is no different. But I think as with all the other "faces" we display, we should aim for honesty and integrity in our online persona. It is natural to want to present ourselves in the best possible way. We don't go to church in sweats and hair curlers. But in our online communications we should not be dishonest about who we are, and we should be alert to the dangers of narcissism.

One of the things that helps me most in the policing of my own online communication is an awareness of audience. Every time I post something on my blog or on Facebook, I try to consider all the people that may potentially read it and to ask what the point of the post is and whether it will be constructive. I try to avoid what is known as "vague-booking": posting something online, particularly on Facebook, that only raises questions and puzzles people. I won't say that I have never done it. I have, particularly when I am feeling sorry for myself. But I am trying overall to avoid it because I think it is on a par with pouting and then not sharing what you're pouting about or enjoying inside jokes that may leave others feeling left out. Instead, on Facebook and here, I try to post things that I think might actually be interesting or enlightening or helpful to my friends and readers.

3) For me, this is probably the greatest danger of online communication. I am a strong introvert. I am shy (not all introverts are). I am not as debilitatingly shy as I was as a child, and I have learned to manage social situations much better, but I am still likely to avoid people rather than face the stress of interacting with them. I am insecure and worry excessively about what people think. So the ability to dodge human interaction by transferring communication into the electronic sphere is something that for me could be unhealthy. Cyberspace can also provide a means of avoiding things I should be paying attention to but am trying to escape because I feel depressed or overwhelmed.

On the other hand, when I think about my online life, it strikes me that I now have many more friends--and I do mean friends--than I had before I plugged in. Facebook and email enable me to keep in closer touch with them, and with some of my family, than I otherwise would. Additionally, I enjoy many more connections with people that I may not be as personally close to but to whom I nevertheless feel a bond because of shared values (political and cultural), beliefs (religious), and experience (vocational). These connections allow me to converse with fellow moms, homeschoolers, musicians, conservatives, Lutherans, and the like, and I find that for the most part these conversations build me up, encourage me in the various realms of my life, and actually draw me out of my introverted existence. You might call me a cyber-extrovert.

Nevertheless, Turkle's book sounds like it offers some excellent cautions which all of us should heed. The most important part of one's life is not to be found in a cell phone or computer. It is, rather, in the people we can see, hear, touch and yes, even smell, on a daily basis. If we ever perceive that our virtual life is crowding out or taking precedence over our physical one, it would be wise to "minimize" the one and "refresh" the other.

*I highly recommend you read the entire article. The comments of some of the interviewees are both enlightening and distressing.

Almost Paradise

Yesterday I spent some time with my teenagers reviewing their English literature reading from the past month. We are supposed to do this on a weekly basis, but it is one of those things we find easy to slough, particularly when life gets complicated. Luckily, my current class is composed of excellent readers. Not only do they actually read what I assign, but they understand it! In fact sometimes I wonder if they really need me. The book is brimming with information and I am not. I used to have more in my head, but I don't live and breathe this stuff anymore. Luckily, as far as my current students are concerned, I have realized that much of what I used to do as a classroom English teacher is not necessary for them. Many of my former students had to be dragged kicking and screaming to their literature books. More often than not, classroom time was spent reading what didn't get read at home or trying to make sense of what was read but not in the least understood. My own kids don't need that. And the older I get the less benefit I see of imposing on them the kind of close, analytical reading I did as an English major. All I really want is for them to read and enjoy their Western literary heritage. And I think that is what ultimately makes it beneficial for us periodically to sit down and talk through some of their reading assignments. More than anything else, it's fun. (For some reason our literature sessions seem to awaken the comedian in all of us.)

Anyway, back to yesterday's "class." My teenagers have already read and/or seen a respectable amount of Shakespeare, but since our survey of British literature has brought us to the Elizabethan period it seemed time to do another. This time around it was Macbeth, and today we had a little fun considering that play's potential as a murder mystery. Then it was on to the carpe diem tradition with Marlowe & Raleigh & Herrick & Marvell, and finally, the loss of paradise with Milton.

I was fortunate as a graduate student to take a Milton seminar with one of the preeminent Milton scholars of the 20th century. Not only was he brilliant, but he was a dear, grandfatherly man and a product of the traditional, old-school style of literary criticism. I don't remember having read Paradise Lost in high school, but I read it in its entirety, as well as other works of Milton, for this class. It was pure pleasure each week to sit around the table with Dr. Hunter and my fellow grad students as we considered Milton's life, craft, and theology. Some scholars view the narrative voice in Paradise Lost as a persona that Milton created to tell his story; Dr. Hunter believed the narrator was Milton himself and that Milton had earnestly set out in the epic "to justify the ways of God to man," and that's how we approached our consideration of the text.

Yesterday, while perusing my Milton notes with Trevor and Caitlin I stumbled on something I had forgotten: with Dr. Hunter's encouragement, I had submitted one of the papers I wrote for his class to the scholarly publication Milton Quarterly. Although Dr. Hunter wrote an accompanying recommendation, my article was rejected (turns out someone had already written something similar a few years back). That was pretty much the end of my scholarly publication hopes, but it wasn't the end of my time with Dr. Hunter. I was privileged to take another seminar, this one on Shakespeare's history plays, with him the following year.

Dr. Hunter was already retired when I took his Milton class almost 20 years ago. He was to the point in his professional life that he was only teaching what he wanted when he wanted. I figured chances were good that by now he was no longer living. But maybe . . . . The kids and I did an online search. Was he still alive? We found the answer to our question here.

Even though I wasn't surprised, I was sad to see that he was gone. I'm glad that I still have one of his books, dated December 12, 1990, with the inscription: "To _____ _____, who worked with me on some of the difficulties in Milton." Wow. Such a grand and generous man, to address me as a scholar and an equal when I was only a skull full of mush benefiting from his expansive knowledge and prodigal kindness.

As I think back to my time in college, both as an undergraduate and graduate student, I am astounded at the absolute luxury of it. To sit and read for hours on end without being interrupted. And then to spend more hours talking, just talking, about what was read. Did I really do that?

I did. And at times I got to do it with the best. To Dr. Hunter and to others like him who handed me a basket and bid me gather some rosebuds all those years ago, thank you. I think I still have a few of them saved somewhere, pressed between the pages of a long forgotten book.

Parenting for Success

I've seen this article in a few places recently.

"Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior"

Yesterday a friend emailed it to me and asked for my thoughts. So here goes.

The article was written by Amy Chua, who was born in the United States the daughter of Chinese immigrants and who grew up to become a Yale Law School professor. It explores why "Chinese" parents (Chua uses the term loosely to represent a certain approach to parenting that is often seen not only in Chinese parents but in other cultures as well) are so seemingly successful at rearing high-achieving children. Chua attributes the success to three things:

First, I've noticed that Western parents are extremely anxious about their children's self-esteem. They worry about how their children will feel if they fail at something, and they constantly try to reassure their children about how good they are notwithstanding a mediocre performance on a test or at a recital. In other words, Western parents are concerned about their children's psyches. Chinese parents aren't. They assume strength, not fragility, and as a result they behave very differently. . . .

Second, Chinese parents believe that their kids owe them everything. The reason for this is a little unclear, but it's probably a combination of Confucian filial piety and the fact that the parents have sacrificed and done so much for their children. (And it's true that Chinese mothers get in the trenches, putting in long grueling hours personally tutoring, training, interrogating and spying on their kids.) Anyway, the understanding is that Chinese children must spend their lives repaying their parents by obeying them and making them proud. . . .

Third, Chinese parents believe that they know what is best for their children and therefore override all of their children's own desires and preferences. That's why Chinese daughters can't have boyfriends in high school and why Chinese kids can't go to sleepaway camp. It's also why no Chinese kid would ever dare say to their mother, "I got a part in the school play! I'm Villager Number Six. I'll have to stay after school for rehearsal every day from 3:00 to 7:00, and I'll also need a ride on weekends." God help any Chinese kid who tried that one. . . .

I find it interesting that Chua concludes her article by stating that "all decent parents want to do what's best for their children" and that the "Chinese" and "Western" approaches are just culturally different means for pursuing the same goal when the title of her article is "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior." Perhaps she didn't write the title. But she clearly sees her parenting style as superior, not merely different.

I also find it interesting that several times in the article Chua refers to her husband Jed, an American who, as Chua tells it, takes issue with the Chinese view of child-raising. In response to Jed's questioning Chua's treatment of their 7-year-old daughter while Chua was coaching the daughter through learning a difficult piano passage, Chua mocked her husband:

"Oh no, not this," I said, rolling my eyes. "Everyone is special in their special own way," I mimicked sarcastically. "Even losers are special in their own special way. Well don't worry, you don't have to lift a finger. I'm willing to put in as long as it takes, and I'm happy to be the one hated. And you can be the one they adore because you make them pancakes and take them to Yankees games."

Wow. I hope her daughter wasn't around to see that.

My thoughts on this article are, I suppose, something of a copout. I think there are things "Western" parents can learn from their "Chinese" counterparts. I really like the pursuit of excellence through hard work, success as its own reward, and the respect that Chinese children are taught to have for their parents. The belief that Chinese children are indebted to their parents reminds me a little of the John Rosemond school of parenting. I agree that Western parents and educators are too enamored of self-esteem. And when I read Chua's description of how a Chinese mother would react to her child's getting a part in the school play and assuming that it would be acceptable to have that play take over the family's life for days on end, I found myself cheering inside. One of the reasons we home school our children is that we don't like anyone having more say over their schedules than we do.

I find it ironic, then, that a parent like Chua, who is so willing to flout the prevailing culture in certain ways is simultaneously so willing to acquiesce to the expectations of the school by bowing to the grade and deadline god. Again, one of the reasons we home school is that we place more importance on learning for its own sake than on chasing perfect report cards. Chua in much of her article is describing what I would call intrinsic motivation--pursuing excellence because it is gratifying to be excellent--but the obsession with grades, which are an extrinsic measure of success, does not jibe with that.

So my copout response is that I think the best parenting probably contains elements of both the "Chinese" and the "Western" approach. Lucky for me, I have a "Chinese" husband to balance my overly "Western" self. If you ask me, our kids hit the jackpot.

Gone to Texas

Word for today from my Forgotten English calendar:

"gone to Texas" - An American expression for one who has decamped, leaving debts behind. It was, and is, no unusual thing for a man to display this notice--perhaps only the initials "G.T.T." on his door for the callers after he has absconded. - Trench Johnson's Phrases and Names: Their Origins and Meanings, 1906

So I guess "gone to Illinois" (as we did a number of years ago) must mean not that you're leaving debts behind but that you're taking them on? That's about how it seems to me, anyway, considering the financial situation of the state of Illinois and the coming 75% hike in the state income tax.

One of these days if you click on my blog and see nothing but a "Gone to Texas" sign you'll know it's because I could no longer afford to live in Illinois.

I Think I'm Seeing a Connection Here

Recent entries from my 2011 "Forgotten English" calendar, compiled by Jeffrey Kacirk

Thursday, January 6

"married all o'er" - Said of women who after their marriage . . . become . . . miserable-looking. - Georgina Jackson's Shropshire Word-Book, 1879

Friday, January 7

"toozle" - To pull about, especially applied to any rough dalliance with a female. - John Brockett's Glossary of North Country Words, 1825

Please note that I do not personally identify with either of these locutions. My husband is a complete gentleman, and being married to him has only made me better. :-)

This Is Just Wrong

"New Edition of Huckleberry Finn to Lose 'N' Word"

Those who are in favor of the censorship say they hope it will lead to the book being read by more people. If I were Mark Twain, I would rather have it not be read at all than have it read in a compromised form.

Homeschooling Under Attack

My husband and I are members of the Christian homeschooling organization HSLDA--the Home School Legal Defense Association. You might think that any Christian homeschooler would want to join such a group. You would be wrong. There are many homeschoolers who choose not to be members of HSLDA. They have thoughtful reasons for their decision, reasons that I can respect. My husband and I have considered the pros and cons of membership and have made a different decision.

That, though, is not the point of this post. The point of the post is an article I just read in the Nov./Dec. issue of the HSLDA publication, The Home School Court Report. The article, written by HSLDA chairman Michael Farris, is entitled "The Third Wave of Homeschool Persecution" and outlines what Farris sees as the third in a series of attacks on homeschooling by those who are threatened by it. He says the first two attacks failed because they were based on faulty premises which were in time shown to be faulty, namely that 1) homeschooling doesn't work and that 2) homeschoolers suffer from not being "socialized." Farris says no one seriously argues either point anymore because homeschooling has proven itself to be quite successful in producing students and ultimately adults who are able to function in the world as effectively as students coming out of institutional settings.

What's left, then, for those who want to go after homeschooling? Farris says that the anti-homeschoolers have found a third war cry, and this one (unlike the previous two) happens to be based in fact. According to him, the "third wave" is the argument that "Christian homeschooling parents are effectively transmitting values to their children that the elitists believe are dangerous to the well-being of both these very children and society as a whole." He quotes at length from an article by Catherine Ross, a professor at George Washington Law School. The article, published in May 2010 in the William and Mary Bill of Rights Journal, is entitled "Fundamentalist Challenges to Core Democratic Values: Exit and Homeschooling." Here is an excerpt:

"This essay explores the choice many traditionalist Christian parents (both fundamental and evangelical) make to leave public schools in order to teach their children at home, thus in most instances escaping meaningful oversight. I am not primarily concerned here with the quality of academic achievement in the core curricular areas among homeschoolers, which has been the subject of much heated debate. Instead my comments focus on civic education in the broadest sense, which I define primarily as exposure to the constitutional norm of tolerance. I shall argue that the growing reliance on homeschooling comes into direct conflict with assuring that children are exposed to such constitutional values."

Are you tracking with this? Homeschooling is dangerous to our children, the country and the Constitution. Farris also quotes from another author, Professor Martha Albertson Fineman from the Emory University School of Law, who in 2009 in the book What is Right for Children? The Competing Paradigms of Religion and Human Rights wrote,

"Indeed, the long-term consequences for the child being homeschooled or sent to a private school cannot be overstated. The total absence of regulation over what and how children are taught leaves the child vulnerable to gaining a sub-par or non-existent education from which they may never recover. Moreover, the risk that parents or private schools unfairly impose hierarchical or oppressive beliefs on their children is magnified by the absence of state oversight or the application of any particular educational standards." Fineman's solution to the problem? Read on:

". . . [T]he more appropriate suggestion for our current educational dilemma is that public education should be mandatory and universal. Parental expressive interest could supplement but never supplant the public institutions where the basic and fundamental lesson would be taught and experienced by all American children: we must struggle together to define ourselves both as a collective and as individuals."

Are you catching those buzzwords? "Struggle"? "Collective"? Would you like a cup of Marxism with your afternoon dialectic?

The battle line is being pretty clearly drawn. Having failed to attack homeschooling on the merits there is nothing left for the anti-homeschoolers but to attack a parent's right to do it. And that is achieved by going after the child, claiming that the state, not the parent, has ultimate responsibility for that child.

On the one hand, I have a certain sense of security that homeschooling has become so common and accepted that any attempt to eradicate it would fail. I am in the second generation of homeschooling and have personally never encountered what I would describe as homeschooling "persecution." Most of the time the people I come in contact with, even if they don't understand homeschooling, respect it as one of the educational options out there and respect my and my husband's decision to do it. They have overall positive images of homeschooling and often say they would do it themselves if they "could."

On the other hand, I think it pays to be vigilant. We live in a country that has for a very long time now been slowly expanding the power and reach of the State. There are some signs that may be starting to change, but those signs are not definitive and I am not convinced the tide has turned. I for one plan to tighten my grip on my kids, plant myself firmly between them and the ever-grasping State, and proclaim loudly, "Over my dead body." I suggest you do the same. How you do it is up to you.

Words to Live By

My thoughtful and intelligent older son got me a neat Christmas gift. It's a tear-off calendar entitled "Jeffrey Kacirk's Forgotten English: A 365-Day Calendar of Vanishing Vocabulary and Folklore for 2011." I thought some of my readers might be interested in today's word:

"Scurryfunge: A hasty tidying of the house between the time you see a neighbor and the time she knocks on the door."--From John Gould's Maine Lingo: Boiled Owls, Billdads, and Wazzats, 1975

Bet you didn't know there was a word for it!

I'll plan on sharing some of the more noteworthy entries over the course of the coming year. Thanks, Trevor!

Blessed New Year!

I for one am ready for it. 2010 kicked my fanny. I need only look at my blog post counter to see how much. In 2007 I logged 178 posts. I started blogging in May of that year. In 2008 I was cooking: 435 posts! Hmmm, wonder what was going on that gave me so much to talk about . . . . In 2009 I slowed down a bit, posting 321 times. But in 2010 I crashed and burned: 173 posts, including this one. That's just a little over half of last year's output.

I'm hoping that in 2011 the pendulum will swing the other way, if only a bit. I have wanted to write more this year, but life has gotten in the way. When I have managed to write it has been mostly about my personal life because I have had a hard time thinking much beyond that. That's not a bad thing, since most of you are friends who for some reason actually seem to be interested (thank you for that). But I envisioned this blog as a place to write about a lot more than just my comings and goings and doings, and I hope next year to more often venture outside my own four walls, maybe take a stroll through town, hike over to the next town or those hills in the distance, and perhaps even climb one and see what's on the other side. I would be honored if you would join me.

Christmas Home Video

Evan and Dad having a snowball fight in our back yard (note the snow-covered construction debris in the background):

Snowball Fight! from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Listening to the live broadcast of King's College Lessons and Carols Service while watching the snow fall and decorating the tree on Christmas Eve morning:

Tree Decorating/Listening to Lessons and Carols from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Evan's class singing their songs in the Sunday School Christmas program. Evan is fourth from the left (the short one--his class is so tall!). His is the voice you hear pop out louder than the others on a number of occasions. I have been encouraging him to use his "pretty" (non-yelling) voice in church but sometimes his enthusiasm wins out over melodious singing. His appearance in this program was a victory for him as he was very nervous about it--unexpected case of stage fright. But we talked him through it and told him he really needed to participate because his classmates needed him to help them sing. I think he took that responsibility quite seriously.

I love how he gets pushed out of the line towards the end of the video so he is hidden behind the row but manages to work his way back out to the front. That's my boy!

Sunday School Christmas Program from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Christmastide Listening

So . . . if you're like me, you went to church on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and now you're looking at four days until the next church service (New Year's Eve). BUT IT'S STILL CHRISTMAS! So while you're waiting for the next opportunity to join your sisters and brothers in Christ in worship, maybe this will help fill in the gap a bit. It's a link to the 7:15 Christmas Eve Lessons and Carols service at my church. I was not able to attend this service. I went to the 5:00 and 11:00 services but needed to take care of things (and people) at home in the interim. I am so sorry I had to miss it. But praise be to God for modern technology, because the podcast is now up and available for my (and your) listening pleasure!

Several of the musicians involved in this service are of a particularly high level of training and skill. Much of the special music was provided by a vocal quartet comprised of the Cantor, two professional caliber female singers who are members of our congregation (one of whom is a trained lyric soprano with a doctorate in voice), and a young man (not a member) who is the star pupil of the aforementioned opera singer. I challenge you to turn the podcast off after listening to that young man (merely 16 years of age) sing the prelude for the service. I don't think you'll be able to. The song ("O Holy Night") is not one of my favorites--I think it is often poorly sung by amateurs or, on the flip side, oversung--with too much belting--by professionals. But I was transfixed by this presentation. I think that young singer--his name is Joshua Blue--is going to be famous some day.

The service opens with the traditional "Once in Royal David's City" and ends with the Willcocks descant on "O Come, All Ye Faithful." In between there are choral stanzas on "Of the Father's Love Begotten," "O Little Town of Bethlehem," "The Angel Gabriel from Heaven Came," and "On this Day Earth Shall Ring," plus several special vocal offerings, including "In Dulci Jubilo" and "Gesu Bambino." (Here's a link to the bulletin.)

And, oh yes, there was brass. And they rocked.

So if, as the song goes, you find yourself needing a little Christmas over the next few days, I have just given you one place to find it! And in short order, there should be another link to our 11:00 communion service featuring the adult choir throughout and capped by some soft accordion playing on the final hymn, "Silent Night." I'll let you know when that one's up.

Merry second day of Christmas!

Christmas 2010

This Advent season has been one for the record books. Like many of you, I often find myself feeling rather frantic at this time of year. It is supposed to be a penitential and reflective time, a time to slow down and prepare for the Nativity of our Lord. Instead December is often the busiest, most frantic and harried month of the year, as I scamper mightily in an effort to check off all the things on my Christmas to-do list.



This year was no different. Then again, I guess it was different, but only inasmuch as it was even crazier than usual. In addition to all the usual stuff, we have this little house project that is ongoing. We couldn't even think about decorating until after the drywalling was completed, and that happened less than a week ago. But, thanks be to God, it got done before Christmas, allowing us a few days in which to carve out a space in our family room for a tree.



Here was the view of our family room shortly after the drywall was primed. Everything is still moved to the center of the room, away from the walls.

Here is the result of a few hours of work. The sofa has been turned around and chairs moved into place. You can see our new track lighting with six sources of illumination that can be pointed in any direction. This is not how our family room will ultimately look. This is not exactly how the furniture will be. The bookshelf that is sitting in the middle of the room (you can see the back of it), plus several others, will soon be history, replaced by built-ins on either side of the fireplace. In time I hope that metal school cabinet in the distance will find a different place to live. A desk that belonged to my father-in-law will be moved in, as will a television. But the immediate goal here was simply to create space for a Christmas tree and present opening. That was accomplished! (Aside to Elephant's Child, my decorating conscience: what do you think of the light? And the sofa in the middle of the room functioning, along with the light, as a room divider?)

Here's the fireless (for now) fireplace. It used to be a 2-way that opened out to the sunroom. The sunroom is no more, as are the glass panels that used to be on either side of the fireplace. We could have returned the house to its previous state and put windows in those spots, but we opted instead to close the walls entirely and put in bookcases. Those can't come soon enough! (Note: you can see some of the water damage sustained over the past few years on the carpet in the far corner. We are not replacing the carpet at this time. That corner will eventually be covered up with a bookcase. Some day we hope to rip out the carpet and replace it with wood floors. Some day. )

We usually have a real tree and we usually decorate it a few weeks before Christmas. This year it was an artificial tree decorated on Christmas Eve morning. This picture was taken on Christmas Day after Santa came and before Evan woke up.

You will notice there are no stockings. This year they were hung with care not over the fireplace (no mantel yet) but by the front door on the coat rack. I assured Evan that Santa would find them there (and he did).

A close-up of the gifts from Santa:

Time to open presents. Hey, it's just what I wanted!

That's a nice, close shave there, Dad. New razor, huh? (Bonus points to the first out-of-towner to appreciate the significance of this photo.)

Brotherly love. :-)

Enjoying a new book!

And another! (We have no problem with books for Christmas in this house.)

Pretty girl. I wish I could wake up looking this naturally beautiful.

Shiloh got as many presents as anyone!

A new game for Dad!

Shiloh likes the pillow pet, too.

I hope your Christmas was a happy one, too. But even more, I hope it was a joyous one, because happiness comes and goes, but the joy of the Lord--the Christ Child--is abiding. He came for all, which means He came for you. And having come to this earthly prison, he gathers you up in His arms so as to carry you with Him to Calvary and beyond. Merry Christmas!

A Grief Interred

From what I understand of grief (which is not all that much), there is no ignoring it. One way or another, where the human psyche is concerned, it will have its way. It takes a long time for the grieving heart to fully work through its emotions, and it is best if it happens a little at a time, in measurable, manageable doses rather than as a full throttle explosion after being suppressed for too long. There are as many and varied ways of processing grief as there are individuals who grieve. We are all different, and we all have our own ways of trying to make sense of the senseless. I don't know if I have ever had that truth made as clear to me as it was today.

It happened when we were sitting down to open Christmas presents. We had gathered around our fireplace that isn't a working fireplace yet due to the construction/repair our house has been undergoing the last few months. To make it seem more like a fireplace, and to give the illusion of a real tree (which we prefer but don't have this year) I had placed a votive candle holder in the fireplace and lit the pine-scented candles it held. As is our custom, we told the youngest, Evan, that he could start the present opening. But instead of heading for the tree to pick out a gift, he started to cry.

"Mommy! Mommy! My duplicate is dead!"

(For those who may not know, the word "duplicate" when used in this way comes from the Calvin & Hobbes comic strip and refers to imaginary, often multiple, copies of Calvin who assist him in a variety of ways--for example, taking the blame for bad behavior, or doing homework so that Calvin doesn't have to. Evan has embraced the concept of the duplicate and over the past year we have had our share of Evan duplicates running around the house.)

Back to the story. "What?" I asked. "What do you mean, your duplicate is dead?"

"He died! I buried him, right there in the fireplace." Evan's extended arm and pointing finger directed our attention to the place where his duplicate was purportedly buried, and we saw something we had not noticed before: Evan had picked up one of the used matches and written in front of the candles on the fireplace floor, in black ash, his name: "Evan."

The crying continued. It was not faked, but real. Horribly real. Evan was distraught.

"But Evan, duplicates are imaginary. They can't die. They're not real." This was my genius insight, which didn't help. The crying continued, and Evan continued:

"And now that he's dead he can't get me any presents!"

It was at this point that Dad stepped in.

"Evan, come here." Evan obeyed and was pulled on to his dad's lap.

Dad continued. "How did your duplicate die, Evan?"

"He fell down and hit his head very, very hard."

"I'm so sorry about that. That is very terrible. But you know what? Your duplicate will always be with you. He'll always be in your heart. You'll never forget him. Okay?"

"Okay." A few more sniffles and hugs all around, and all was well enough that the gift-opening could commence. Of course, now Evan's (and his duplicate's) mom was a basket case. Because as all this was going on, and as my husband was handling it in the right way, it dawned on me that Evan at seven years old is no different from any of us, whatever our age. When a special day comes, whether it's a holiday or a birthday or a graduation or a wedding, we look around and expect that certain people are going to be there (or if not there, within calling distance). When they aren't, we are reminded anew of the loss that we have experienced and the depth of the grief it has caused. They can't be with us anymore. We won't ever again, in this life, see their faces, hear their voices, or feel their arms around us or our hands in theirs. They won't ever be able to buy us another present. And oh, how that hurts.

Evan has attended four funerals in the last year-and-a-half, for two of his grandparents, his preschool teacher, and a beloved family friend who was once our pastor. With each of those deaths, I think a little part of Evan died, too, as it does in all of us when someone we love departs this life. Perhaps what we saw today was Evan's trying to come to terms with that loss and grief by "burying" a little part of himself. So rest in peace, Duplicate Evan. You served my little boy well. You gave your heart without reservation to those you loved, and I trust that with God's help the rest of the Evans will carry on in your stead, in turn giving their hearts to many who will be blessed by their prodigal love.

Where are all the wise men?

"Oh, what a ridiculous thing, that the one true God, the high Majesty, should be made man; that here they should be joined, man and his Maker, in one Person. Reason opposes this with all its might.

Here, then, those wise thoughts with which our reason soars up towards heaven to seek our God in His own Majesty, and to probe out how He reigns there on high, are taken from us. The goal is fixed elsewhere, so that I should run from all the corners of the world to Bethlehem, to that stable and that manger where the babe lies, or to the Virgin's lap. Yes, that subdues the reason.

Do not search what is too high for thee. But here it comes down before my eyes, so that I can see the babe there in His mother's lap. There lies a human being who was born like any other child, and lives like any other child, and shows no other nature, manner, and work than any other human being, so that no heart could guess that the creature is the Creator. Where, then, are all the wise men? Who would ever have conceived this or thought it out? Reason must bow, and must confess her blindness in that she wants to climb to heaven to fathom the Divine, while she cannot see what lies before her eyes."

Martin Luther, sermons from the year 1533
Source: Day by Day We Magnify Thee

Making Some Changes

I have been working on Christmas cards the last few days. (They're all in the mail! Yippeee!) As usual, we are sending out a family photo (actually, this year it's just the kids) along with a year-end family newsletter (you know, the kind that it's lately become fashionable to ridicule).

I approached the letter a little differently this year. Instead of organizing it by person or chronology, I decided to approach it thematically. And without a doubt, our family theme the last few years has been change. So the letter introduces that theme, talks about how humans in general don't like change, outlines some of the major changes in our family's life, and points the reader to the One who doesn't change. "If we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny himself." (2 Timothy 2:13)

I'm not going to rehash all of that. If you're a very close friend you probably know some of it. If you're not, count yourself blessed to be out of the loop. But I thought I would share a couple of more trivial areas of my life in which I have this year come face to face with the unavoidability of change and the consequences of trying to ignore it.

First, my feet. For the past year or two I have been experiencing foot pain that started out slowly but has gotten worse and worse. So how did I respond? As any self-respecting middle-aged woman with too much to do would, of course. I ignored it. I kept on wearing the same shoes and behaving in the same ways as I have for my entire life. After all, my feet never hurt before. Why should I have to change the way I live and walk and care for them now?

I learned that the answer to that question is that if I don't change I am going to be crippled some day. So finally, unable to ignore the pain any longer (it's not normal to be nearly unable to walk for the first 5-10 minutes when you wake up in the morning), I went to the foot doctor and discovered two things. First, I have something called a Morton's toe, which has led to a complication called Morton's neuroma. Some Morton's neuromas require surgery; mine is not too far progressed and should respond to PROPER CARE.

The second cause of my foot problems is something I already knew but didn't connect to my feet. I am getting old. I have flexible feet that flatten out when I stand or walk on them. Over my 46 years of life, I have done a lot of standing and walking, and the combination of that and aging means that the natural cushioning in my feet is playing out. It's like a mattress that has lost its spring or a pillow that has flattened out over time. So, as the doctor described it, when I walk on bare feet it's like walking on bone (and it feels like it). There's no cushion there anymore. He made an analogy to trying to support my body weight on knees and elbows. It would start to hurt pretty fast. That's about where my feet are.

What does this mean? Three things, essentially: better shoes, orthotics, and no more barefoot walking. I am going to be working on the first item on the list over time, trying to replace some of my shoes with better ones. (Might be a good idea to start by replacing those Skecher sandals that I have worn every day all summer for the last 5 years or so.) I have already been measured for orthotics and last week received a call from the doctor that they are in (just haven't had time to pick them up yet). And I have become religious about not going barefoot, ever. Not even to walk from my bed to the bathroom in the morning when I wake up. My slippers are ever-present. I even took them to a friend's house this week so that I would have something to walk around in after removing my snow boots. It's interesting how after only a few weeks of this new habit it feels normal. Now if I go barefoot I feel literally naked. And it's helping. My feet are feeling better. (Except when I spend all day walking around in unsupported, orthotic-less snow boots while running errands and Christmas shopping. Ouch.)

This post has actually gotten longer than I anticipated, so you will have to wait to hear about the other change I mentioned earlier. Here's a hint, though: it also has to do with aging. Imagine that.

Celebration Day

This afternoon Evan and I played in the snow. After coming inside we made hot chocolate (for him) and coffee (for me). As we sat together warming up with our respective beverages, Evan made an announcement: "Today is Celebration Day!"

"Really?" I asked. "What are we celebrating?"

"That Christmas is a week away!"

Why, yes it is. How could I forget?

Evan again: "To celebrate, we'll be singing Kyrie I. Do you know what page it's on?" By this time he had pulled a hymnal off the shelf next to our kitchen table and was looking through the book.

"It's in the back, sweetie. I think it's in the 800's." (Wrong on my part. Turns out it's in the 900's.)

Evan: "After Kyrie I, we'll sing Kyrie II." A pause, as he turned to the front of the hymnal, the Advent section. "Then 'The Advent of Our God.'"

He named several more hymns in the Advent section, but I don't remember what they were. We started our Celebration Day observance by singing both Kyrie's as promised (Kyrie II was sung in both Greek and English). Then there was a change of plans and we sang another Kyrie--"Kyrie, God Father"--on the preceding page. By that time we had to clean up and prepare to leave the house for a 2:00 appointment, so there was no time for hymns. But even though our celebration was cut short, Evan seemed satisfied.

What I think is revealing here is Evan's embracing of the sanctification of time and the liturgy. Something special is happening. He wanted to mark and observe it. How did he do so? Through ritual and ceremony. Through order. Through the liturgy. He started as many of our church services do: with the Kyrie. Then he proceeded to sing a hymn. And not just any hymn, mind you, but one appropriate to the season: an Advent hymn.

Tomorrow is the fourth Sunday of Advent. Evan is well aware of that fact and is looking forward to singing "Light the candle of hope today" while the acolyte does just that on the Advent wreath. Evan knows that in a few days the blue paraments will be changing to white and the lights on the sanctuary's Christmas trees will be lit for the first time. He told me today that the reason we are having "Celebration Day" is that we are celebrating that Jesus is coming so that He will be able to die for our sins. Then his eyes lit up: "And on Easter we'll get a new candle!" (He was speaking of the paschal candle, which gets replaced each Easter Vigil.)

People say that liturgical worship is boring for children--that what children need is not candles and paraments and ritual and hymns and liturgy but rather, entertainment and fast-paced excitement. I think Evan would have something to say about that. In fact, I think he already did.

Wachet Auf Podcast

Two weeks ago as part of our observance of Advent, my church presented Bach's Cantata BWV 140 on the chorale Wachet Auf ("Wake, Awake, for Night is Flying"). The podcast is now available and you may listen to it here. The bulletin with text and background information on the cantata (written by Carlos Messerli) can be found here. The cantata begins at about the 21-minute mark, but I strongly encourage you to listen to the entire service and be blessed by all of the hymnody, liturgy, preaching, and special music contained therein.

WE HAVE WALLS!

AND A DOOR!

It's the little things that mean so much.

Advent Reprise

This is a repeat of my post from December 2, 2009. Hope you don't mind--I needed to read it again.

There is a house I pass almost daily in my travels, usually multiple times. It is located about halfway between my own house and my church. Its position, backing up to a greenway next to my regular route, means that I have a good view of the back of the house rather than the front.

We have been living in our current home for almost 10 years, so I have been driving this same route equally as long. And for all of that time, or as much of it as I can remember, this house has been lavishly decorated for Christmas. And the decorations are of the sort that I actually like--not those big plastic/inflatable monstrosities, just lots and lots of lights in many colors. It's unusual to see the back of a house decorated so extensively, but no doubt the owners realized that more people see the back of their house than the front. So for years they have provided those driving by with quite an impressive display.

That is, until last year. Last year Christmas came and went, but the lights never went up, and I assumed that the house had changed hands and that the new owners weren't continuing the tradition. Too bad, I thought. I will miss that daily dose of holiday cheer.

But lo and behold, last week the decorations were back! And they are identical to those we have seen on this house for years, so my assumption is that the house did not change owners after all (although I suppose it is possible the previous owner left the light display behind). Which leaves me to wonder:

What happened? Why were there no lights last year?

The possibilities are endless. Was there an extended illness? Cancer, maybe? Chemotherapy treatments? Was there a job loss? Was there a serious injury, a divorce or a death? Did someone deploy to Iraq?

Maybe there was a joyous event, like the birth of a new baby.

Or maybe they were just tired.

There is no way of knowing, but my gut tells me there is a story there. And as I look from that house to the next, and the next, and the next, and I think about how many houses I drive by every day, I can't begin to imagine the complicated stories playing out in each of them. It boggles my mind to think of how many people there are in this world and of the various trials they are facing. Really, it's a wonder any lights get hung at all! If we were outside decorators (we're not), you can bet our lights would not be going up this year.

But thanks be to God that there is a Light that doesn't need me to hang it up, plug it in, or turn it on. It is the Light of Christ, the Light that shoots like a laser through the darkest darkness, the Light that shines no matter the season, the Light that had no beginning and has no end. It is the Light we await this Advent, the Light that became flesh and entered our time-space continuum a little over two thousand years ago, the Light that suffered, died and rose, ascended into heaven, and promises to come again. It is the Star of Bethlehem, the radiant beams from the face of the Holy Child, the Light that shines from the throne of God and wraps itself with perfect love around His saints.

Whether or not you hang lights on your house this season, may you bask in the Light of Him who is Light, as that Light shines to you and through you for all to see.

Another Advent Moment

"Fling Wide the Gates" - Psalm 27:7-10, Setting by Allan Mahnke from Cheryl on Vimeo.

(The song begins at about the 20-second mark.)

"Fling wide the gates, open the ancient doors, and the great king will come in.
Who is this great king? He is the Lord, strong and mighty.
Who is this great king? The Lord, victorious in battle.
Who is this great king? The triumphant Lord. He is the great king!"

Prepare the Royal Highway

One of my favorite Advent hymns is "Prepare the Royal Highway" (Lutheran Service Book 343). We sing it a little differently at my church, courtesy of my husband the Cantor. I love how he plays it, capturing in music the anticipation of the people of God as their King approaches: "Hosanna to the Lord, for He fulfills God's Word." The people of our congregation love it: just listen to the singing! And the children love it: it is one of the hymns they most often request. Enjoy! And be joyful! The King is coming soon!

(P.S. You can see my two younger men in the front row of the congregation, a tall one in a green shirt helping a short one in a red shirt to follow the hymn in the hymnal. Oh, and that very pretty acolyte--the one closest to the camera--is my daughter.)

Prepare the Royal Highway - Lutheran Service Book 343 from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Flashes

You know how sometimes the facts that live in your head just hit you all at once in a different place?

I had one of those moments today. I was dropping my senior-in-high-school son off at his college math class. As he walked away from the car he turned around and gave me a little wave. It was right out of the movie Big--you know, that moment at the end when Margaret Colin is watching grown-up Tom Hanks walk down the leaf-strewn street, only to briefly glance away and look back to find that he has changed again into his little boy self?

I had a flash like that today. For a fleeting moment, I saw in my great big 18-year-old man the little boy he once was.

I cried all the way home.

Duty

Last week at our Thanksgiving Day service my pastor highlighted some passages in Luther's Small Catechism that speak of the attitude of thankfulness that we as children of God ought to demonstrate. For example, the meaning of the First Article of The Apostle's Creed ("I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth") concludes thus:

"All of this He does only out of fatherly, divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in me. For all this it is my duty to thank and praise, serve and obey Him."

What a beautiful Gospel statement of the Father's love: "All of this He does only out of fatherly, divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in me."

But the next sentence has a word that might seem to rain a bit on the Gospel parade:

"For all this it is my duty to thank and praise, serve and obey Him."

Ouch. Duty? That sounds like a "have to," not a "want to." Think of the word "dutiful." When you "dutifully" do something you do it not with joy or gladness or out of a desire to serve but rather, reluctantly, because you have to or because there will be undesirable consequences if you don't.

But as my pastor explained, the word "duty" here is not to be taken as something we do because we "have to" but something we do because it is appropriate--because it is called for. In other words, it is the only fitting response. Think of it. Parents have a duty to take care of their children. Is that care given "dutifully"? Well, maybe occasionally. Parents get tired and sometimes they have to make themselves do the things that they ought. And sometimes they fail. But in the big picture their DESIRE is to care for their children. It is their duty, yes; but it is a duty they embrace, one that arises out of their vocation. They are parents: it is appropriate and fitting that they care for their children and they do so willingly, out of love, not because they have to.

Or think of our soldiers who go into harm's way to keep us safe. They have a duty to protect and defend their nation. Or doctors, who have a duty to provide the best care they can to their patients. Or pastors, who have a duty to shepherd their flocks. I could go on, but you get the idea.

All jobs--all vocations--have duties assigned to them. The duties are the actions that define that vocation and make it what it is--the very fabric out of which it is woven and from which it is inseparable. It's not a matter of, "Okay, you're a baptized child of God and He has given you all this--now you better go and be thankful because, after all, it's your duty." Instead, it's "You're a baptized child of God and He has given you all this. Wow! Of course you're thankful. How could you be anything BUT?"

Leave it to God to turn "dutiful" into "duty-full." He fills us with all good things, including the joyous duty of thanking Him at all times!

History Lesson

Evan's birthday was in October and his baptismal birthday in November. To mark both occasions, his godparents gave him several gifts. One was this floor puzzle of the presidents from Melissa & Doug Toys :

It has totally captured Evan's imagination. He is at that stage of development where he loves lists and sequences. For the first few days after he got the puzzle he enjoyed showing it to whoever happened to be around. But soon it became clear that the question "Can I show you my president puzzle?" was an invitation not merely to see the box but to be treated to a catalogue of the presidents in order as he pointed to each and pronounced his name: "That's our first president. His name was George Washington. That's our second president. His name was John Adams." And so on, through all forty-four.

The fascination with the presidents has led to some history lessons. The lessons are brief, just a descriptive sentence or two so that Evan has something simple to latch on to: "George Washington was a general in the American Revolution." "Woodrow Wilson was president during World War I." (Evan is particularly interested in World War I these days since that's when that great Flying Ace, Snoopy, imagines himself fighting the Red Baron.)

Tonight at dinner the subject of President Obama came up. Evan is growing up in a strongly conservative Republican household and he long ago learned the bottom line about Mr. Obama. If asked about our President, he will unhesitatingly and definitively state: "Barack Obama is a socialist. He's ruining the country!"

And that's what happened tonight as we were getting dinner on the table. The name "Obama" came up (as it frequently does because we discuss politics a lot in our house), and my husband called across the kitchen to our son: "Evan, tell us about Barack Obama." Evan's reply came immediately:

"Barack Obama is a socialist! He's ruining the country!"

But that wasn't all. Tonight there was more.

"And so is William Jefferson Clinton. And James Earl 'Jimmy' Carter, Jr. They wanted to ruin the country, too!"

Oh, dear, how we laughed. I think I laughed, as much as anything, at my first grader's knowing and being able to pronounce without a hitch the presidents' full names, including first, middle, last, nicknames, and suffixes. I asked my husband if he taught Evan to say those things and he said no. At least, not in so many words. I think we are seeing some rather advanced thought on the part of our 7-year-old. Dad has said enough that Evan was able to put Clinton and Carter in the same category as Obama, which to him means they must have been country-ruining socialists, too. If the shoe fits . . . .

And to think Evan hasn't even put that puzzle together yet.

Giving Thanks

Two musical offerings from our Thanksgiving Day service this morning. First, a setting of Psalm 104 by Carl Schalk, sung by my daughter Caitlin. Here is the text:

I will sing to the Lord as long as I live,
I will praise my God while I have my being.
O Lord, how manifold are your works,
In wisdom You have made them all.
The earth is full of Your creatures.
You send forth Your spirit and they are created,
And so You renew the face of the earth.
May the glory of the Lord endure forever,
May the Lord rejoice in all His works.
(Psalm 104: 24, 27-28, 33)

Psalm 104 - Setting by Carl Schalk from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Second, a piano/organ duet by Trevor and Phillip. Trevor did triple duty this morning, serving as acolyte, bell ringer, and pianist!

"Songs for Thanksgiving" from Cheryl on Vimeo.