More movies

I just remembered three more movies I watched in December: Stalag 17, The Librarian (#2), and North and South.

Unfortunately, the reason these were recalled to mind is that the library thinks I haven't yet returned them (but I know I have) and says I owe $5 (and counting) on each one. :-( Hate it when that happens.

Movies I've watched recently

In the theater: Eragon
I definitely liked it better than die-hard fans of the book did.

Night at the Museum
Lighthearted fun

The DaVinci Code
Let me just say it was bad and leave it at that.

Christmas Day 2006

The challenge: keeping six kids happy and occupied for two extra days till Dad gets home for the grand gift-opening and food-snarfing festivities. He says go ahead without him. I say no way. We compromise and allow the kids to open a Disney Scene It game and Pirates of the Caribbean dvd. Couple that with hiking (shown in the photo above), baking, games, and basketball, and I think we just might be able to hold on till the 27th.

Snow Day!

Yesterday, Matthew's fondest wish came true. (That's not him in the photo above, by the way; it's Steve and Ben.) Every day when he arrives at school, he greets his principal with, "Mr. Schulze, can we have a snow day today? Please?" It doesn't matter if it's sunny and 80 degrees--Matthew still asks for a snow day. After two years of hoping, yesterday was the day. Over a foot of snow fell on us, and the radio announcer gave the glad tidings at 5 a.m. "No school today at Zion Lutheran, Faith Lutheran or District 154 in Marengo." And there was much rejoicing! Much going back to sleep, too, in those nice cozy flannel-sheeted beds. I didn't crawl out of mine until almost 9:00.

And then the fun began. At least parts of it were fun. Steve didn't think the 64 acres (well, maybe not quite that much, though it felt like it) of driveway to shovel was much fun, but he got out there and did it anyway, with a little help from some of the rest of us. My back is a bit sore today. A perfect excuse to not rub Steve's back, which is a LOT sore.

All the kids got outside for sledding, in spite of the fact that there isn't anything remotely resembling a hill for miles around. At least not anything a northeast-Nebraska-Bohemian-Alps gal like me would call a hill. But the neighbor graciously allowed the kids to slide down the gentle slope in his yard, and that was nice. Ben spent more time outside than he did inside yesterday. He loves snow.

Susannah and I pulled out the cookie recipes and started our Christmas baking. Carols blaring from the boombox, we mixed and rolled and spritzed the day away. Snitched, too, a little. The other kids helped some in bits and pieces. The kitchen is a popular place when peanut brittle and chocolate/mint cookies are involved.

Some days, it's heavenly to just stay home.

Hallelujah!

I've been sidelined by a foot injury for six weeks now. Something called a neuroma, or maybe sesemoiditis, my athletic-trainer sister tells me. Whatever you call it, it has been a major cramp in my style since I haven't been able to run or even walk much. But finally, FINALLY this week things are looking up. For one thing, I got a different pair of shoes that doesn't pinch or squish and lets my poor old foot spread out wherever it wants. For another, I haven't worn high heels or dress shoes for days (except a couple hours for church). Or maybe it was just a matter of time. Whatever the reasons, I'm back at it--my foot feels good and I've been able to go out walking a couple of times with no painful results. Yippee!

Perfect timing--now maybe I can exercise off the 3 pounds I gained over Thanksgiving before I put on 5 more at Christmas. :p

Can I figure out how to post a photo?

Let's see! This is a photo of me and my family at oldest son Joseph's graduation last spring.

Sometimes it's really, really hard to be around teens.

A couple of the kids at school got caught doing something they should not have been doing, and my response has been all over the map--from anger to compassion to apathy and back again. How could these kids be so DUMB? Why do they run after other gods as if their lives depended on it? Why are they so blind to the good news that is right in front of them--that they don't have to be trapped in the crap of this world, they don't have to look for cheap thrills to spice up their lives, and they don't have to thumb their noses at whatever segments of the adult world have offended them. I ask myself how we in our little Christian school have let these kids down. What could we have done differently? What should we do now? How do we help them see how very ugly and sordid those things are that they consider so appealing? How do we show them their wounds and help them see the Healer?

I'm convicted of my own cowardice and silence in not more boldly holding out the word of life.

I'm making progress...

For awhile now, I've been working on my cardiovascular fitness. Mostly that means I walk...a lot. I haven't exactly become what one could call buff, and I won't be running marathons anytime soon, but I'm here to tell you that those fitness experts who say walking isn't real exercise are wrong. True, nobody ever got fit walking a quarter mile a day at a pace of 2 miles per hour, but if you really get your buns moving, walking can provide a great workout. A leisurely stroll won't cut it, but fast walking that gets the heart rate up has been for me the perfect conditioning exercise, a great stepping stone to running. I spent all summer walking...four and five and six miles a day at a pace of say twelve to fourteen minutes per mile...with the hope of someday working up to running. My goal was to be able to run a mile nonstop before the summer's end, and my bigger goal is to someday run a whole 5K. I started by jogging a quarter mile here and there during my walks. I'd run awhile, walk awhile. And the running wasn't all that hard. I walk so fast and furiously that it was almost a relief to break into a run at times! The mile milestone came and went. I kept at it. After awhile I could run 1.5 miles, and I thought that was about my limit. Not bad, I thought.

So today I hit that mile-and-a-half mark and decided to just keep going. I finally had to quit when a thunderstorm and an uphill grade arrived at the same time. When I looked at my pedometer, I discovered that I'd gone 2.5 miles!! That's farther than I've run for YEARS. And I owe it all to walking. My bad feet would have given out long ago if they hadn't gradually gained strength from walking. Now they rarely bother me. I'm beginning to think that the 5K goal isn't as far-fetched as I thought it was!!

Sing with me now--put one foot in front of the other...

I survived the first week of school...

One week down--35 to go. That makes it sound like I hate school, like I'm a kid counting down to the day the pain stops. While I can't say I'm entirely thrilled to be teaching school or sending my kids off to school, it isn't THAT dreadful, either. It's just a lot of hard work. I'd rather have the freedom to sleep in, spend my time how I wish, choose for myself which people to spend time with in a given day, enjoy the luxury of feeling guilty for not accomplishing tasks that no one but me cares whether they get done or not anyway, interact with my kids on my own terms, not gathered around a mandatory science fair project that both they and I detest. I'd rather have no responsibilities except to please myself and decide for myself how I will order my world. Or anyhow that's what my tired mind and body sometimes tell me at the end of a long hard day. Really, though, I'm mostly finding these days that work is a good thing. Taking responsibility is a good thing. Accepting willingly tasks I wouldn't choose for myself is a good thing. Growing up is a good thing.

It's been a long time coming. I've spent too many hours resenting things I had to do or situations I had to handle but didn't want to, too many hours wishing for something different. This year is somehow different. Maybe it has to do with accepting and finding beauty in powerlessness while simultaneously accepting and finding beauty in responsibility. I don't have a choice; this year I HAVE to work so we can make ends meet. Consequently, I HAVE to send the kids to school even though we'd all rather go back to homeschooling this year. I HAVE to get up early, I HAVE to supervise everything that goes on in this house while Steve is away, I HAVE to eat right and exercise if I want to stay healthy, I HAVE to forge relationships with stuents and co-workers. Those are not situations from which I can remove myself--I'm in them and have to be in them. I have no power, in these areas, to make my life different.

Choice comes only in how I respond. Responsibility comes in acknowledging the effects of my response. I can chafe (and rub myself raw in the process) or I can rest. I can spend my time fighting what is, or I can look for God in it and "do the work He has given me to do before the night comes when no one can work." He assigns; I respond with effort and enthusiasm and gladness, or I respond with whining and complaining or apathy. I invest myself in staying, or I invest myself in running away. In a very real and strange way, I'm beginning to see the beauty of staying. I'm working harder than I ever have in my life, doing things I don't necessarily always love. I have less free time, less freedom, fewer big choices open yet more small decisions and responsibilities that land on my plate--and in spite of that I have more peace, more joy, more love, more trust that God is in his heaven and what I thought was wrong with the world might not be so wrong after all. The unchosen tasks of a day are his assignment to me; accepting the loss of my right to choose for myself has opened my eyes to see his good gifts. I'm seeing them everywhere lately--the love of God poured out in Christ Jesus is all around me, in me. Life can be hard, but God is so, so good.

I guess it's true: it's in losing my life--losing myself in him--that I find it.

Oy!

Yes, I'm still alive...just no time to post. School started today with a half day that I felt WAAYYY less than half ready for, to be followed tomorrow and the next day by an all-school overnight campout. Which I have to pack for right now, so ta ta for now. :-)

Happy Birthday to me!!

At 11:11 p.m. tonight I turn 42 years old. I'm lovin' it--I'm old enough to face facts, young enough to want to; young enough to seek beauty, old enough to know what it is; young enough to run, old enough to be impressed with myself when I do; old enough to have seen God's mighty hand, young enough to expect miracles; young enough to speak my mind, old enough to have one! ;-)

At a loss for words...

I'm in an odd place of having so much to say that I can't get myself to say any of it. Too many thoughts and events and ideas--too many activities and changes and plans. In the past week I delivered my firstborn to college and got word that my husband will at long last be switching jobs. So there will be big holes in my house this fall--Joseph eight hours away in Nebraska, Steve in Memphis five days of every week. I like change--the freshness of new possibility--and these changes are not unwelcome, but I don't like the distances change can bring and the fluctuations between anticipation and grief that they often stir in me. Neither of those emotions leaves me completely in the present. Anticipation hopes for future joy; grief mourns the end of past joy. Both take me out of today, which has joys of its own that I miss when my eyes are elsewhere.

There's a robin hopping unsuccessfully after bugs in the flowerbed under my window. It spreads its wings and hunkers close to the ground, then flies away. Now a swallowtail butterfly flitters from roses to cotoneaster. Gorgeous.

I might not have words for all of the hopes and ideas and events and fears that fill my past and future, but I can enjoy today and see God in it.

Getting excited....

This weekend Matthew and I are going with a group to a festival in Stratford, Ontario. There are some great plays on the bill this year. We've got tickets for Oliver, Henry IV, and Twelfth Night, (not all plays are Shakespeare, obviously) and just now I was perusing the website to see if I could find a way to afford adding Much Ado About Nothing as well. It looks like we might be able to get 2 tickets for $20 each, thanks to the fact that Matt is less than 29 years of age. That's an even better rate than what we paid for student tickets for the other plays! I do have to get him a state ID that shows both his picture and date of birth, so we're off to do that bright and early tomorrow. Then we pack up and leave at 3 a.m. on Thursday. I plan to sleep on the bus, believe me!

Feelings...

All summer I've been paying attention to feelings. This is not as easy as it sounds, given that I'm an emotion-challenged person who just kind of bulls forward regardless of my own or anyone else's feelings. Isn't life all about "do the right thing"? None of this FEELINGS stuff for me, thank you very much! Of course that's hogwash; we all have feelings whether we pay attention to them or not. So this summer I have been paying attention and have felt a sense of peace and wellbeing that I didn't expect. In my inattention, I had allowed a small pot of discontent to simmer constantly on the back burner--not enough to be called "unhappiness" or to warrant a major life overhaul, just a thumb on the scale that let problems and concerns weigh me down unnecessarily. Paying attention has restored the balance because now I notice and mark and fully live the moments of joy and triumph and peace, too. Now I've got an overflowing cup to go along with my simmering pot!

I've learned a few things about myself along the way. At the heart of my discontent, I've found, is one of two feelings: a feeling of deprivation or a feeling of fear. I've discovered that what's behind that nagging feeling that all is not right in the world is too often a disappointment with what I have--I feel that I don't have enough money or food or time or love or respect or talent. I want more. And yet the wanting more is not so much because the thing itself is inherently good but rather because I expect it to fill up a space where emptiness is causing me pain. It's not that I want the thing itself; it's that I believe the thing is owed me, and the fact that I don't have all I am owed or all I think I need gives me pain. It's the feeling of having a good withheld, like when everybody else gets a piece of candy but I don't. The opposite of feeling deprived is thankfulness, and I need to cultivate it because it doesn't come naturally to me!

The opposite of faith is fear. Sometimes I'll realize that my brow is creased and my hands are clenched and my jaw is tight. Some call it stress, but I'm learning to call it fear. Usually I don't know what I'm afraid of, but I know that my body and heart are sitting at the edges of their chairs, looking out for the worst, anticipating pain or difficulty.

I never thought of myself as fearful or discontent. I was surprised by the hold these have over me, their power in my life--surprised also at the joy of being freed from their power by the forgiveness found in Jesus. He truly does give rest to those who are heavy-laden. I'm feeling that rest so much more now that I'm also letting myself feel the fear and am turning in trust to Him whenever it strikes.

Now I know why David said, "WHEN (not IF) I am afraid, I will trust in you."

The veggies are coming! The veggies are coming!

The fruits (or rather vegetables) of my labors and God's genius are beginning to appear on my dinner table. Is there anything better than homegrown produce? We had our first green beans and cucumbers a few days ago, and I ate the first two perfect cherry tomatoes for breakfast this morning. I don't normally have veggies for breakfast, but on my early-morning walkabout to check the garden, there they were, just waiting for me. Mmmm! Broccoli and beets are on the menu for tomorrow. The beets are somewhat of an experiment; I haven't grown or cooked them before. The growing end of it worked out great--let's just hope the cooking part does likewise!

Unsolved mysteries

One weakness (and strength) of systematic theology is its ability to simplify. Difficult truths are made accessible through explanations that capture the big picture, yet there's also a risk of over-simplification. Mysteries can be reduced to propositions, losing in the process their ability to slice through us and awe us and lift us and flatten us.

Thomas Moore talks about this in his book The Soul's Religion. He sees religion as mystery and the faithful as fools--those who are empty enough and open enough to allow a hole through which mystery may enter or be glimpsed. Too much "wisdom" of the "explain everything to the nth degree" sort can at times close the aperture which allows us a supernatural view.

Mystery is both repellent and attractive to me. I see it sometimes resorted to too quickly. Instead of investigating and thinking and struggling through to the deepest understanding possible, we drop questions into a Mystery Box and leave them there. That goes against my grain (which might just mean that my grain is going the wrong direction!) because puzzles are meant to be figured out, right? Tangles, whether of yarn or ideas, are meant to be untangled and restored to some sort of order that doesn't leave one in a jumble of frayed ends and twisted thoughts. That's how it seems to me, anyhow. I don't believe in setting things aside, out of play, out of mind. There definitely are times to humbly accept an incomplete understanding, to not chafe or insist upon answers that aren't forthcoming. The most annoying person in the world is a child who keeps asking and asking and asking, long after it's time to just quit and accept the way things are. Sometimes you have to be okay with not knowing how it all works.

But the questions should stay on the table in play, not be tucked in the background where they cause no ripples. The mysteries shouldn't be forgotten or set aside but should be right in the middle where everyday life can bump up against them. Mysteries should cause detours and bruises; that's what keeps us from thinking this world we've created in our human imaginations is the real thing, the only thing. The things that don't fit sometimes get set aside, shuffled off into a separate Mystery Box as if they are pieces from a different puzzle, not recalcitrant ones from a single gigantic, eight million piece, 3-D, no-picture-on-the-box puzzle.

Theology, in the hands of humans, can become both a stubborn insistence on finding answers that God doesn't offer and a cop-out to put an end to the struggle. Theology (and discussions of it) can become a retreat from complexity. Explaining God to death can be a retreat from complexity. Filling up the Mystery Box and setting it on a shelf till heaven instead of letting the mysteries roam freely in one's life can be a retreat from complexity. But what can we do? Sure and certain doctrines that MUST be held tightly must also be held loosely, not in the sense of doubt or uncertainty, but in the sense of allowing those sure and certain doctrines to mingle and interact and bump into the not-so-sure and not-so-certain parts of God which remain for us mysteries. Too much insistence on explanation or too much avoidance of it might be a symptom of fear of complexity--an inability to accept the complex world the way it is or God the way he is.

Life is not simple. It is indescribably complex. And God is the ultimate complexity. Unfortunately for us, complexity looks an awful lot like chaos, which is anathema to us both as bearers of God's image and usurpers of his authority. Because we see through a glass darkly and at times would prefer to not see God at all, we glimpse only shadows and motion and blurry outlines when we look at God and his activity in this world. We want to tame it, bring order to confusion, control to chaos, to distill reality into simple statements, to sort life into piles (these are the things I know, these are the things I don't; these are the things I let touch me, these are the things I don't) to make it more manageable. That's not bad, necessarily. I don't know that we can help it. But oh what we miss when God is not allowed to be everything he is. Mystery, complexity, order, certainty, paradox--there's no getting away from any of them without also getting away from God.

The questions then: How to run from chaos without running from complexity?
How to pursue order without rejecting mystery?

Yup--life with God is complicated, all right.

Hooray!! I did it!!

I knew if I clicked on enough options and read through every inch of the help files I'd eventually figure out how to get those lost posts to show up. TA DA! Sweet success.

And there you have it--an in-print history of the whiplash this learning curve is giving me--and confirmation that the title I long ago chose for myself is no misnomer. I am indeed a COMPUTER DOOFUS.

A learning adventure

Crazy. This blogging stuff is not for the fainthearted. I've been trying for an hour to find a post that the gremlins say I published but which I can't for the life of me get to appear on the blog itself. Let's see how I do with this one.

Now what was that password again?

Well, it's obvious I need to get with the program and post more; when I tried to log on just now, I discovered that whatever password I chose weeks ago when I created this blog had irretrievably slipped through holes in the sieve I call my mind. Passwords are a great idea--they just give me no end of heartburn because I'm always forgetting them, no matter how memorable I try to make them. Trouble is, the requirements are getting too much for me to manage. I mean, I can handle plain old four-character passwords, but when I need to come up with six characters or, heaven forbid, six characters that must be a combination of letters and numbers, too many options open up, guaranteeing that the option I finally settled on will not be an option on which I will ever in my natural life be able to settle on again without artificial mnemonic intervention. So this time I'm breaking all the rules and WRITING THAT SUCKER DOWN. I guess maybe I could come here a bit more often, and that might help, too.

Narrating My World

When my kids were little, I used to read them books, books, and more books for our homeschool. Some books were great; I knew my kids were listening and engaged and really into the experience. Other books were yawners--full of great information, maybe, but not exactly the thing to keep you glued to the edge of your chair. If a book was really great, I knew it; if a book stunk, I knew it. But mostly I couldn't tell what was going on in those young minds as they listened--or not!--to what I was reading. So we began the practice of narration. I would read a section; they would tell back to me what they had heard. I would read; they would respond, letting me know that they were paying attention, learning, interacting, letting me know that these words birthed in the mind of a creator were not falling on passive, unaware, unappreciative ears.

"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." Genesis 1:1.

The world: God's masterwork. Better than any book but similar in that it sprang from the mind of a creator and offers itself for our consideration. We are not insensate; we were given the ability to see and hear and taste and smell and feel, to think and respond and understand. In the same way I spoke into silence, hoping my children would attend and listen and hear and respond, God spoke into the silence and created the heavens and the earth and all that is in them. Do I hear? Do I see? Am I paying attention? Sometimes I don't know that I am. Sometimes I sit passively by, convincing myself that I see and hear and understand, and yet still a part of me hangs back. Do I respond? Do I engage? Do I meet with God's creation of matter and mind and spirit through the full use of my senses and sensibilities? Narrating is my attempt to do that--to not only notice and pay attention, but to engage and respond and relate to what God has put into my world--and ultimately, to respond and relate to God himself.

So here goes! Let's see where it takes me.
Rachel