This one is the introduction to the book, and focuses on the very first chapter of the book. Here’s a link…

I’ve been trying to remember the specifics that are given as evidence for this slide. There are some I agree with: the cheapening of the meaning of marriage; the reality that the average person sitting in a church today does not read her bible with the regularity of someone sitting in a church in the 1950’s; a culture of sensuality that mocks modesty and eschews any sense of boundary or discipline in its expression.

There are some I can’t claim as my own: the passionate pejoratives launched at piercings; the lack of perfunctory prayer in schools; the disdain launched at environmentalists, drums in worship, or at “soft” preachers who overemphasize the love of God.

Is my argument with the specifics, or is my argument with the assessment of the trajectory?

Tonight I listened to another graying man, his face lined with care and with years…almost 80 years, in fact. The surprise was hearing how he saw the world very differently. “This is the high point of my life. These are the best years of my life.”

And when you think of John Perkins’ life…son of a share cropper, denied rights and dignity as an African American growing up in Mississippi, older brother murdered by someone who was supposed to enforce the law, jailed for his protesting for civil rights…when you think of his life then, and his life now, there is no denying that as bad as the world is now, an African American is going to paint a different trajectory for our country. They may not like it now, but there is no nostalgia to turn back the hands of time.

I still haven’t answered for myself which trajectory I believe the world is on. But Dr. Perkins’ words tonight remind me that it’s a privilege to have lived a life that is able to complain about tattoos and music in church.

May we work for justice. May we join God’s work in the world. It may mean that today’s oppressed people, in the next generation, might have the freedom to complain about trivial things, too. But I’m willing to take that risk.

Not that anyone asked, or that I have any qualifications to make such decisions, but if I were the Newberg High track coach, I would put Maddie and MK in the 400, Emily and MK in the 800, Emily and Talli in the 1500, and Talli and Anna in the 3000.

I have yet to figure out why my most hectic and tiring days are sometimes also the days with the most explosions of ideas.

Compartmentalization. We do too much of it.

How might I do a better job of naming where each individual “thing” at church fits into the overarching whole, without becoming hugely guilty of the aforementioned compartmentalization?

I did not model good self talk tonight at one particular point, and I was overheard. Drat.

My respect for a particular college student grew today.

Maybe tomorrow I will tackle writing prompt #2. But now to bed.

He had opened the first salvo, triggered by her bags of stuff on the kitchen table. First, his sigh; then her indignant “What?”; then his exasperated “Nothing.” And now…now it was her turn to say, “Well it must be something…”

But somehow, she just wasn’t in the mood today. Not in the mood for him to blast her “free-spending shopaholism”, not in the mood to hit back about his cheapskate ways that were the reason they still had worn out shag carpet, among other things. Who else still had a microwave with a dial instead of a keypad? How many other wives started their car with a screwdriver, and prayed that there wouldn’t be rain, since the windshield wiper was held on with twist ties?

No wonder she found comfort at the mall.

Breaking away from their well-worn script brought interesting results this time. His face lost its exasperation and softened with a smile. “I took care of dinner tonight,” he said.

Intriguing. She could see he thought of this as a grand gesture, prepared perhaps as his crowning argument against his perpetual penny-pinching. As he never cooked, this surprisingly must have meant he was going to take her to dinner. But wait. He hadn’t said, “I’m taking you to dinner;” he’d said, “I took care of dinner tonight.” What exactly did that-

Ding Dong.

Unbelievable. Delivery. What a man she had married, a real sweep-you-off-your-feet Romeo. Chinese, she guessed, or…

“Pasquale’s Pizza. Here’s your order.”

“Just a minute,” he said, “let me get the coupon.”

Of course he has a coupon, she thought.

He grinned at her as he passed, grabbed the coupon for a $13.99 large pizza, and handed the delivery girl a $10 and a $5. She rolled her eyes and turned to go.

My husband, she thought; last of the big tippers.

“Ahem,” he said. The delivery girl turned, her nose ring glinting in the porch light. “My change?” he said.

“You…you actually want the dollar back?”

“My change is $1.01, with the coupon.”

The delivery girl looked at him, looked at his wife, first in shock, then, yes, there’s no other word for it…she looked at his wife with pity. A crisp one dollar bill changed hands, and the delivery girl left. She texted three people before she left the driveway… “ur nt gonna believe dis”.

The train was leaving the station after all.

“You couldn’t let her keep one dollar? One dollar? You stiff her completely on a tip for one dollar?!? I cannot fathom what in the world you think in that head of yours. I have never met ANYONE like-“

“That’s what’s wrong with you! You throw money around like no one I’ve ever seen. Do these bags of crap really make you feel better? Do they?”

“WHO IS SO CHEAP THEY ASK SOME PIERCED TEENAGE DELIVERY DRIVER FOR A DOLLAR IN CHANGE? How can you do that and live with yourself?”

He grabbed the ends of the dollar bill, pulling them apart quickly, making a snapping sound. “It’s MY dollar! I’m careful with my money! Once you get your hands on it, it’ll be gone.”

And now that you have YOUR hands on it, she thought, who knows if it will ever see the light of day again?

Five years ago, I had a preschooler and two elementary students. It’s shocking to me how different life is now. The time I once carved out with discipline to write the blog has evaporated into Facebook and oozed into a different family stage. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve blogged regularly, the gaps between the fits and starts getting longer and longer.

My friend Tanya recently evaluated her own blog, and started anew with purpose not long after. She also wrote on Facebook that she missed my blogging, something someone else said a few weeks ago.

So I’m going to try again. To blog more. Note the comparative “more”…not a definitive “weekly” or “daily”. Just more. I’m not sure all of what it will be; Facebook will likely remain the place for pictures and mundane blather about my daily life, so this will be something other than that. But I can tell you what the first couple ones will be.

I made a suggestion to my daughter for a class writing assignment. She didn’t like it, but unsurprisingly, I liked my own idea. The first one started writing itself in my mind when I couldn’t sleep the other night, and today I got a draft done. As much as I have loved the community and friendship that developed through this blog, when I think back to five years ago, it was for me. So, selfishly, I’m going to write about whatever I feel like writing. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it.

“Shall we call it?”

“I think so. Nothing at all since August 23, nothing original since March 23. I think it’s gone.”

“Ok. Time of death, 4:56…”

“NOOOOOOOOO! I refuse to give up. Give me the paddles!”

“Are you crazy? This blog has been down WAY too long.”

“Give me the paddles! CLEAR!”

[zap]

“Come on, charge it again! Charge it again! Clear!”

[zap]
beep………………..beep.

“Wait a minute!”
“What was that?”

“I told you! Come on! Again!”

[zap]

I think you might see some more signs of life around here soon…

Discipleship is doing what Jesus did