Duckabush Blog: Musings Archives

Goals for the New Year

Christmas is come and gone, and it is January in Seattle. We had a long spell of rain – 26 days in a row, or so they say at the airport. Apparently the record for this area is 33 days, set in 1953. In a surprising twist, we had two days of sunshine (or what passes for sunshine in the Northwest); even more remarkably, the two days fell on a weekend. We hardly knew what to do with our good fortune. Personally, I spent the days with a big goofy grin on my face, pointing at the sky and exclaiming about it to anyone who would listen.

It is always a little bittersweet when the last of the Christmas decorations is finally put away.

While many Washingtonians pride themselves at having spirits unaffected by the rain, I must admit that the gloom was starting to get me down. I asked Kathy to dig out a bunch of candles and started lighting them here and there … my way of striking back at the dark and wet. Whenever the sun does come out, we all rush out and look at it, making jokes about not recognizing “that strange yellow orb”.

In Washington, only little girls and tourists are allowed to carry umbrellas. Natives are supposed to sneer at the downpour and say, "This? But it's only a bracing mist!"

We’re enjoying a period of relative calm these days … Kathy’s buckling down with a new homeschooling schedule, and I’m working away at my job, two-thirds into my six-month contract.

The men’s Bible study I attend every other Thursday is taught by our Pastor – it turns out that he is a big believer in setting (and presumably achieving) goals. He’s been working on us all to identify goals and finally lowered the boom on us at the beginning of the year, announcing that we would all be holding one another accountable for whatever goals we set. With increasing confidence, we each send out an e-mail notification once a week with a half-dozen goals or so, outlining our weekly progress (or lack thereof).

Personally, I’m not a big believer in goals, as perhaps my life illustrates. I find it much easier to start new projects and practices than to carry through and finish them (or keep them up for the long term). I have tended to drift through life, doing whatever came to my hand, taking what joy I can find. The things I have managed to keep doing have tended to be done as a reflection of who I am already, rather than what I aspire to.

It is hard to ignore the claim that goal proponents make: that a life without goals is a life doomed to mediocrity, even (or especially?) in the spiritual realm. Yet too much emphasis on goals seems to cheapen my faith and potentially reduces my walk with the Lord to a Pharasaical reliance on works. Not that I would ever run the risk of being anywhere as disciplined as a Pharisee … those guys were actually pretty ‘together’, aside from their rejection of the Son of God. I guess that is sort of like saying, “Bob sure is a good guy, if you discount his tendency to pick the pockets of passing strangers.” Still, from all outward appearances, the Pharisees apparently did a good job of practicing ‘righteousness’ … but I digress.

How much of my distaste for goals stems from simple laziness, and a desire to avoid accountability for the way I squander my gifts and time? I try to keep some healthy skepticism alive, but it is hard to examine one’s own self in the midst of a potential blind spot. Of course, some questions should only be asked in a rhetorical context.

One of the things I’m attempting this year is a read-through-the-Bible in a year program. Kathy is doing it with me, and we’ve taken to reading each day’s selection aloud in the evening, the older kids listening in if they happen to still be up. The other night I nearly put Kathy to sleep with a passage describing the descendants of Esau – I kept myself amused by changing syllabic emphasis on the name of one of Esau’s oft-repeated wives: (you say “Oholibamah”, I say “Oholibamah”).

I’ve always felt a little sorry for Esau – he strikes me as a big, simple guy who wasn’t very introspective and just never really ‘got it’. With a wary nod to Malachi and Romans, I like to think of him as a sort of chronologically reversed Solomon. I imagine him starting out pretty clueless but coming to care more and more about the things of God as he gets older and as God rewards him for his forgiveness of his brother Jacob. How else to explain his forbearance when Jacob returns from Paddan Aram?

Somehow, hot tubs and Rescue Heroes seem to go well together.

I finally got the hot tub up and working … for a long time it sat empty and forlorn, stagnant water pooling in the bottom. We have a strange leak condition – it only leaks when it is turned off. I hired a guy to come out and look at it -- $130 later and with a good part of the deck dismembered, the repair guy didn’t seem to have a good idea of where or how it was leaking. I cleaned it out, filled it back up and added the 432 (give or take 425) chemicals that the spa people claim are necessary for proper operation … Kathy and the kids seemed pleased, although getting the temperature just right has been tricky.

Kathy said this blog needed some kind of a 'pithy closing', so here it is:

Pithy closing.

This was one of those days… (by Kathy)

Of great holiday relaxation! It was delightful. I'm trying to think what made it such a nice day. The weather is lousy here in western WA--has been raining for days--so it's not the bright sunshine that is making me cheerful. We didn't do anything elaborate or exotic. We didn't bake Christmas cookies or make gingerbread (although we have a beautifully decorated gingerbread). It was just one of those peaceful, 'holiday spirit' days. We don't get many of the peaceful type around here with 3 boys and 2 girls ranging in ages from 12 to 3 running around with no outside play readily available.

Our gingerbread house--made by G'ma and decorated by the kiddos.

Yesterday we went to see The Chronicles of Narnia (it was great!!). Joshua is so excited because he gets to see it again next week with his R.O.C.K. group (Really Outstanding Christian Kids) from church. I got a sitter for the two little ones and took the older three to a morning matinee. I'm always fascinated to see how little boys are so definitely ‘men.’ Rachel hid her head for most of the climatic battle scenes whereas Joshua and Daniel came out of the theater saying, “The battle was AWESOME!” I was glad to see that Rachel knew her limits and went into the back (actually through the first set of exit doors) during the stone table scene.

Today we didn’t have anything exciting planned so I told the older three children to be prepared for a half day of school (with absolutely no fussing allowed). This week so far, we've been on vacation. When I got up this morning they were all downstairs working on their math. I told them the computer would be off limits today. For some reason all five of the children, yes, including the 3 and 4 year old, have been begging to play computer games all week, and it's been driving me crazy! The behavior, in general, has been less than exemplary and we needed to make some changes.

After some morning school, the rest of the day was spent so pleasantly. The big kids played several games of Payday, a round of Jenga, and entertained themselves in their rooms. The little two played for a long time with their Playmobil toys. At one point David, Sarah and I had the Lincoln Logs out and were building houses on the floor in the living room. Joshua had to come in and teach me how to put the doors into our building (can't believe I've forgotten how to use Lincoln Logs). We ran out of pieces, and I had one of the other kids go out in the garage and find us another bin of logs. Who would think it would be so engrossing?

The kids gather to open one of our many Advent calendars.

Late in the afternoon I let the children watch a movie in the garage while I wrapped presents in the kitchen. I put on a movie for myself and we all spent the next two hours happily entertained. Rachel went to play at a friend’s house for part of the time. I got ALL of the stocking presents wrapped. Yay!! My mom always wrapped our stocking gifts (down to the toothpaste and gum) and I can't resist continuing that part of the Christmas fun. I wrapped Tim’s presents (found all sorts of odds and ends treasures at Lowe's this week) and even got his stocking things wrapped and labeled.

We added a twist to our gift tag names this year (started it last year and went all-out this year). Several years ago we came up with the idea to assign each child a secret reindeer or Christmas name at the beginning of the month and then use them for their presents. The names aren’t revealed until Christmas morning--it keeps everything extra special secret and fun for the children. It also prevents the kids from comparing their pile of presents to their sibling’s. Everything is terribly mysterious as the suspense (and the piles of presents) build up.

This year the children were Elf, Snowden, Dasher, Rudolph and Frosty. Tim was Mr. Incredible (I couldn't resist) and I was Dancer (not indicative of anything, I'm afraid). I decided to mix up the names a little bit (usually we just stick to the 9 reindeer names) because I was worried the kids might use their powers of logical reasoning to narrow the possibilities down and figure out their secret identities. I can just hear Joshua, "Let's see last year I was Blitzen and the year before I was Donner so that means I must be one of the following...." Really, some children have TOO much time on their hands. Shouldn't that boy go write a book report or something?

I had even toyed with the idea of repeating a reindeer name from last year to throw them off the trail. Have to win the battle of wits whenever you can! Or at least put up a good fight.

This year we livened it up with fun character names as the gift giver. It gets a little tiring to write Mom and Dad on all the presents and we don't really 'do Santa' in our home. So now the packages come from all sorts of interesting individuals. I think one present is To: Elf -- From: Spiderman. Another one is To: Snowden -- From: Buzz Lightyear. We added in King Peter and Queen Susan after seeing the Narnia movie. The kids get a huge kick out of seeing who all the presents are from and Tim and I are entertained in thinking up creative names. We try to throw the kids off the trail by occasionally giving the boys gifts from female characters like Snow White and Little Bo Peep while the girls receive presents from King Arthur and other assorted knights.

Daniel and Sarah sledding in the Duckabush.

I overheard Rachel on the phone, the other day, telling her friend how much fun it was to look over the packages and see the different names written on them. Hee, hee. I think we've started another tradition. Of course, Tim wonders if we really need more traditions--I try to ignore those kind of comments. Joshua is old enough that he can enjoy some of the more unusual characters, when we can think of them. It's been lots of fun. We do like celebrations here in this house.

I'm so pleased to have all the wrapping done (as far as I know). We usually sleep downstairs in the living room on Christmas Eve (another tradition from my childhood). One year we had to hang up a curtain separating the kitchen/family room from the living room so we could wrap presents in one room and have the kids in the other. It was busy and festive but certainly not quality family time. This year we can enjoy Christmas Eve together because we've done most of the work ahead of time. We'll spend Christmas morning relaxing and opening presents -- the kids have requested quiche and sweet rolls for brunch. Yum! We'll have dinner with Tim's parents.

See what happens when the kids play inside.

All in all it was a good day of vacation. I think one of the key factors was keeping the children OFF the computer and the complaining/fussing OUT-LAWED! I would like the kids to spend more time playing board games together, reading and just generally engaging in creative play. I don't mind a little bit of computer time but when all five children want to play at the same time and fight over computers it gets a little crazy. I need to be more proactive about the recreational choices myself and bring out some of our board games during free time. Often it just takes a little time and instruction and the children run off to play the games themselves. It's truly a wonderful thing to see the kids enjoy each other--a lovely benefit of a big family.

Just wanted to give you a little glimpse of our day on this eve of Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas!

Kathy

An Embarrassment of Whitespace

Now that I no longer ride the train, I find that I do not write very many blog entries. Tonight I posted two blogs from November that had never quite made it past my editor, and was dismayed to see the empty home page of our blog. I guess after 30 days or so of silence, the blog software stops trying to cover for me. How we've fallen from those heady early days when I posted two and even three times a week.

Rachel working with her kind of whitespace.

I guess I have less angst these days ... I'm comfortable in my new job, and enjoying a time of prosperity. My commute is not particularly conducive to writing, and once away from the habit of writing, it is easy to make excuses. But I worry about my faithful readers (both of them), pining away for lack of my pithy wisdom. Or something like that.

When I'm at a loss for something to say, one of my favorite conversation-starter questions (for Christians) is, "What is God teaching you, these days?" So let me ask myself that question.

Hmmm. Maybe that's why I don't have much to say in the blog ... I don't have a sense that God is particularly dealing with me on any one thing. I seem to be enjoying a time of peace, which is itself somewhat remarkable. Sometimes I wonder if this job and house and contentment is (in some sense) God's restoration of the things that were taken from me (my job at AT&T Wireless, friends and fellowship, living in the Duckabush) over the past several years.

As Christmas approaches, my thoughts turn toward the King who gave up everything to come to live among us, and who is Himself restored to His full glory, seated at the right hand of the Father.

Half a Life

This is a blog that I wrote in early November, but never posted. I've found that once you get out of the habit of writing, it is hard to get started again. I'm trying for a fresh start.

It is a Thursday morning, and I’m riding in a carpool up I-5 a few minutes before 7 am. I’ve been working at my new job in Factoria for six weeks or so, now – I seem to be settling in to a routine. To avoid the fierce traffic, I’ve been driving in early (leaving the house a few minutes after 5), but now that I’m carpooling three days a week, I can sleep in like a ‘normal’ person (for some very weird values of ‘normal’). [Note: Since I wrote this, I have abandoned that carpool and joined another more reliable one that gets to my place of work at 6:00 am. Sadly, this means no sleeping in for me … back to the 4:40 am wakeup. ]

I like my new job, and I very much like the pay, but the location leaves something to be desired. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I miss riding the train quite a bit. Still, this carpool may be the answer – I pay less than what the train would cost me in gas fees and ride to work in comparative comfort and reasonable time.

Contract employment (like this new position) doesn’t scare me too terribly much – every job since I graduated from college has been initially a contract position except for my first job at Olin. Also, the only job I’ve ever lost was a full-time employment position at AT&T Wireless – so I have no illusions about the stability of full-time employment. Still, there is some fear about what will happen at the end of the contract – will I be asked to stay on, or will I be looking for another job in a volatile market?

Apart from starting this new job, a couple of other things have happened lately, as well. I turned 40, and Joshua turned 12. Strange to reach such a lofty age when I still think of myself as a ‘young’ man. I guess the words change their meanings to suit reality, rather than the other way around – I just never really thought that 40 equaled ‘young’ before. Going out on a limb, here, but I suspect that 50 will seem more like ‘reaching my prime’ than I ever imagined.

It took nephew Timothy quite a while to light my two-score candles.

Joshua continues to grow in grace and stature – what a fine young man he is! Kathy and I decided that, now he is 12, he may set his own bedtime. This is, of course, on a probational basis – if he can’t handle it, we’ll probably revoke that privilege – still, I want to start handing responsibility over to him as we move into the ‘coaching’ phase of parenting. Rachel was green with envy – a good reminder that in a large family, nothing occurs in a vacuum. (I’m sure there is a joke I could make about large families and the need for a vacuum, but it doesn’t come to me at the moment.)

Some people have breakfast in bed, while others (who sleep in a loft) have it on a couch. We move with the times.

I really like being part of a carpool – we zip along in the carpool lane while the peasantry sits fuming at a standstill – for some reason, carpooling isn’t very popular in Seattle, and the vast majority of cars cannot meet even the low HOV-2 (High Occupancy Vehicle -- 2 persons) bar. Of course, it doesn’t take much to stop our lane, and then we sit in companionable misery, sharing the lot of the common man.

My folks scheduled a work-party at The Refuge on my birthday … call it a none-too-subtle hint if you will. While I usually evade those work days, this time I actually put in several hours of physical labor, which enhanced, rather than diminished, the enjoyment of my birthday. We gathered as an extended family the night before; this was possibly the largest number of family members I have ever had attend my birthday celebration. Mom and Dad were there, and Mark and Liz and their three children, and then Kathy and my horde. All we needed was Posie & Greg and their rascals to complete the event. It was very festive; Mom made a Black Forest cake that was big enough to hold all 40 candles and we feasted and partied into the evening.

It is hard to believe that the Main Lodge is finally being built!

Several people have asked me, “Do you feel any different, now that you’re 40?” Truth be told, not really. I’ve been feeling rather introspective for the past year or so; this birthday has loomed large enough that it didn’t sneak up on me. But it does make you think … certainly by any reasonable measurement, half my life is over, possibly much more than half my life.

It makes you wonder what I'll do with the time I have left, doesn't it? I must admit, I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, myself. Strange to live a life and feel so much like a passenger.

50 Pounds Here and Gone

Near the beginning of October (around the 10th) I reached the goal of having lost 50 pounds! It has been a long journey. I began on April 9th and have remained true to the course ever since. A dear friend recommended two books to me by Kay Sheppard, From the First Bite and The Body Knows; both deal with the subject of food addictions. I found myself fitting many of the descriptions profiled in the book and was intrigued by the idea of really being free from the struggle of overwhelming food cravings. My friend encouraged me to try the food plan for thirty days and to begin immediately and seriously (meaning go “cold turkey” off some serious food and drink substances). I
decided to go for it and began the next day.

December 2004--This is a terrible picture! It does serve a purpose, however, since it proves who has the Favored Green Christmas Stocking for Christmas '04

The food plan is a very intense, weighed and measured diet. One of the basic concepts is that certain people are addicted or obsessed with food and that there is a physiological reaction that causes cravings for refined carbohydrates. You can read more about the food plan and the idea of food addictions at Kay’s website: http://www.kaysheppard.com

So on that fateful Saturday in April I went off all forms of sugar (natural or processed, including all sweeteners except for liquid Saccharine), flour, and wheat. I also stopped all caffeine consumption and any high fat foods (like nuts, fried foods, etc). I had a pretty miserable two days as I felt headachy and exhausted. I remember saying to a friend, “I have five children, I can not afford to be this tired! Tell me this won’t last!!” She assured me that I would survive. Ha!

The food plan is very specific in terms of what and when you eat (hence the weighed and measured definition) but it does provide fairly hearty amounts. I eat a good deal of food—it just happens to be extremely healthy and WAY more veggies than my family is interested in consuming.

December 2004--Taking a lovely walk with Sarah and my mom.

Along the way I have dropped some serious pounds (something in the order of 13 in the first two and a half weeks), have found a real peace over food (most of the time) and developed a real awareness of any sugar that gets into my system (the cravings start almost immediately). I discovered it is possible to get off soda and sugar free gum (two BIG, long time habits in my life). I survived a summer of travel and family gatherings and eating out. All in all I haven’t had any chocolate or sugar or bread products for more than six months.

March 2005--Soon this girl will discover the joys of millet and quinoa!

Interestingly enough I find I can handle the absence of sweets much more easily than the absence of starches. Last week I was particularly hungry, for some reason, and struggled in resisting the huge Costco muffins I had bought for the family. And yet, at other times, I don’t find resisting difficult at all (or there is no way I could continue this plan for such a long time—I just don’t have that much will power in and of myself).

I wonder if I will be able to enjoy Christmas baking this year without eating any of the treats. I made some cookies for a homeschooling co-op class, last week, and realized that I have always nibbled on the dough without even thinking. It was a bit torturous, as a creative cook, not to taste the new recipe. I have to be careful not to dwell too much on the idea of certain foods or try to smell and savor them—it causes me to be discontent and starts those hunger cravings.

June 2004--Fixing some fruit and veggies. Down about 25 pounds!

My family and friends have been hugely supportive. Tim is amazed that I’ve continued on as long as I have. He and my friend, Julee, vie for position as my biggest cheerleader. Julee has supported me from the beginning, always believing that I could lose the weight and would succeed (even when I truly didn’t believe it myself). She went on the plan with me (until pregnancy morning sickness drove her to eat crackers) and even spent a day cooking "approved recipes" with me. Julee is always ready to talk about how I’m doing or feeling about it all – much longer than Tim can handle the discussion. She brought over a bag of gifts when I hit this grand goal and was the first to say we had to go out and celebrate my 50 pound loss. More than anyone, she has truly applauded and rejoiced with me over each step of my progress.

October 2005--Heading out for our Girls' Night Dinner and Movie to Celebrate 50 pounds gone!!

Tim, as always, is my rock! He somehow knows just the right thing to say to help me remain on track. He helps me see all I have gained (no pun intended) during my struggle to be consistent and points out the habits that I have changed. He supports me in finding new, attractive clothes and never speaks disparagingly about my sometimes odd food choices (does anyone else like millet and quinoa?).

October 2005--trying on some cute, new clothes.

I don’t know what I would do without my family and friends encouraging and supporting me. They’ve let me talk (endlessly at times) about the food plan and my baby steps toward healthy eating. They cheer and compliment me and tell me I am doing great. The children went through a mourning period as I gave up sugar (perhaps they saw that their own sugar consumption would also be decreasing) but unfailingly applaud my efforts. They are quick to ask me, “Are you allowed to have that?” if it looks like I am eating something unhealthy. Built in accountability!

These children are definitely not eating on my food plan!

I was trying to find some pictures to post – perhaps a nice before and after shot. As I looked through the months of 2005, I began to see just how little I really let myself be photographed. I could hardly find any pictures of myself and certainly not any without several children posed artfully in front of me (one advantage of having five children). As I looked through the collection, catching glimpses of myself her and there, I began to really appreciate how much weight I have lost. It’s a bit of a shock to put the two images together in my head. I’m still me—thick or thin.

People often ask me what I will do (with my eating) once I reach my goal weight. It’s a difficult question. If you follow, truly, the mindset that goes along with the food addiction books, then, like an alcoholic, you are never “cured” of your addiction but must abstain from those substances forever. I find that idea a bit daunting—it’s difficult to wrap my brain around the idea of being off sugar, wheat and flour for the rest of my life. On the other hand, God brought to mind an interesting connection last week. In all things, discipline is required for true, long lasting growth.

October 2005--Today!!

When someone begins an exercise routine they are not usually asked, “So, when you tone those arms and gain strength in your legs and some awesome muscles, are you going to return to your couch potato state and stop exercising?” No, physical fitness, if you want to retain the strength and endurance, must be continued.

If someone reads the Bible in a year, working day by day, to go through the entire Bible, would you say to them, “Boy, I bet you’re glad that’s over. Now that you’ve reached that goal, I guess you’re going to go back to trashy novels and smutty movies. You’ll probably want to cut back on all that Bible reading and be more moderate, maybe only a chapter or two on the weekends.”

How ridiculous that sounds! Thinking of discipline in the physical and spiritual realms and applying it to my eating has been eye-opening. Of course, I want to grow in my Christian walk. Obviously one has to keep on exercising or the muscles will turn to flab. I certainly know that keeping my marriage vibrant and loving takes energy and work. Being a good parent requires me to be consistent and attentive. I think staying on track with my eating, and maintaining a healthy weight is going to take constant work. Knowing this, however, doesn’t have to be discouraging, instead it can be another way that I am being refined and transformed “…into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” 2 Corinthians 3:18

Paul writes about discipline in Titus:

“For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good.” Titus 2:11-14

My sassy new jeans and vest!

Until such time as Christ returns or takes me from this earthly home, I will try my best to honor Him with my disciplined eating. I trust He will give me the grace to run the race and the wisdom to discern the path He has for me. I am thankful that He promises to meet me if I seek Him. I do not want to be back in the place of obsessing over food, with its downward spiral into addictive behaviors.

Kathy

A New Job

It has been easily a month since I have written anything for this blog. A couple of weeks ago, I attended a men’s Bible study that was just starting up, and each of the men was saying something about their hobby. One man spoke up: “I write.” It piqued my interest – what kind of things does he write? And then I sadly remembered … I used to write!

One day about two months ago, Kathy called me at work. “You’ve gotten three calls from recruiters today,” she told me. What bad timing – I had just begun a programming class funded by my employer, and was scheduled to go on vacation in a couple of days. When I got home, I looked over the e-mails and messages – they were all for the same job requisition, which must have just been released into the wild of recruiting land. Looking them over, I noticed that one recruiter had actually read my resume and had picked up on what I consider to be the key statement:

Interestingly enough, this recruiter also seemed to be the most straightforward of the three, talking frankly about billing rates and the share I would receive. I agreed to have them submit my resume to the prospective employer, and found myself on a phone interview a few days later. They put me on speaker-phone and barraged me with questions, four of them to one of me … I hate those kind of interviews. It is very difficult to project a sense of who you are to more than one person over the phone, lacking visual cues. I guess the interview went well, though, because while I was on vacation in Texas, they offered me the job, sight unseen. I was to be an independent contractor for a six-month period, working for a major wireless company in the Seattle area. After praying and consulting with a number of folks, I decided to take the job. While it is scary to think of being in the market for another job in only six months, the hourly rate they were offering was very attractive, and the work they want me to do was much more in line with my preferences than at my former employer. So I took the job, and am now in the fifth week of employment as an independent contractor.

Another big change this month -- Mom and Dad sold their house in Lakewood. The 'cousins' gather here for a farewell to the 'ole homestead.

The last week at my previous job was horrible in a self-inflicted sort of way. There were so many things that I had done in a slap-dash fashion or that needed just that little bit more of effort (or documentation) to make them workable for my successors – even on my last day I had a list of 24 things I needed to do. I finished most of them, but ultimately had to call it a day. It was very strange to hand in my laptop, give up my train pass, hand in my badge and pager and walk away. Even though I was voluntarily leaving for what I expected to be a much better position, I felt a poignant sense of loss. I guess I had really come to enjoy the people I worked with, if not the job that I was doing.

The commute to my new job is a little tricky. If I try to work ‘normal’ working hours, it takes me more than two full hours to get to work; driving, riding the train and riding the bus. Traffic on the highways to this particular location make it prohibitively difficult to commute for an 8-5 workday. Although my new boss seems a little more rigid about work schedules than I prefer, he agreed to allow me to work from 6-3, so that I can avoid the worst of the traffic. I’ve been leaving the house around 5 in the morning and getting home about 4:10 in the afternoon, which is not too bad. David and Sarah keep asking me, “Why are you here?” I presume theirs are not existential questions, but more along the lines of “Why are you home so EARLY?”

Construction at The Refuge (http://www.olympicrefuge.org) continues apace.

I really like the work at my new job. I’m doing internal tools and intranet web development, which I very much enjoy. The contract agency who pays me made a special effort to get me my first check – it is always nice to be reminded of why I get up so early in the morning and trundle off to work. And it is strangely pleasant to be back in the telecommunications world – a lot of things have not really changed very much in the three years that have elapsed since I was working at AT&T Wireless.

While I was on vacation in Texas, I did not work on my programming class homework, and (as a consequence) I became rather far behind. With the flurry of leaving my former employment and starting a new job, I found that I had little time to catch up. Today [well, it was "today" when I wrote this] is the last day of the class, and tomorrow is the deadline for all homework to be submitted, or I’ll fail the class. I’ve spent nearly every waking free moment in the past three weeks working on the homework assignments – happily, I’ve finished them all and am waiting only to find out if the last half of a problem has been accepted. (If not, I’ll have one last chance tonight to resubmit it.) While it isn’t that big a deal to fail the class, it is the prerequisite to a certificate program I hope to begin in February – if I have to re-take it, that will cost me $600 and another ten weeks’ delay. I certainly have worked hard to complete these assignments – it reminds me of end-of-semester project deadlines back when I was an undergraduate student at the College of William and Mary.

[Editor's Note: I did manage to pass the class, mainly by wearing down my professor with repeated submissions of homework. "Enough!" he finally cried. "You passed the class, now leave me alone!"]

A couple of Mondays ago, with hardly any fanfare, I restarted the tradition of Special Days with my children. When we first moved to Washington, I began spending one hour a week with each of my kids individually – taking them on bike rides, going for walks, often just driving to the local McDonald’s Playland and watching them play. They really seemed to enjoy having some focused Daddy Time, and I’ve continued the tradition off and on over the last five years. While I was working at my former job, I had Mondays off, and so I grouped the five individual Special Days into a single weekly Special Event or Field Trip. While we were able to go on some cool day trips, I think that some of the kids (especially the older ones) really missed having one-on-one time with me (and I with them).

The trouble is, my schedule is still a little fluid, such that I don’t come home early every day. The kids have Awana on Wednesday nights, and so there are perhaps only three days a week where I am home early enough to easily do a Special Day with a child. Happily, I came up with the idea of not tying Special Days to a calendar week, but rather using a random-selection method on the days when I can spend an hour with just one child. In this way, each child will get a Special Day about three times a month, and I won’t be tempted to neglect my wife or other responsibilities.

As the weather turns, everyone likes to hang out by our little gas fireplace, even the Muffin.

A few years ago Kathy bought me two little books: How to be your Daughter’s Daddy and How to be a Father to your Little Man, both containing 365 activity suggestions. Some of them are not particularly applicable, and some of them are things I already do often, but they both contain some clever and workable ideas. I decided to buy one for each of my children and to write the date beside each thing that we do. I hope that they will keep these books and leaf through them from time to time, remembering how much their Daddy loves them.

I’ve really missed riding on the train, but Kathy says she really likes having me home early. If I take the train, I can sleep in an hour longer, but I get home three hours later in the evening, with a total loss in family time of two hours. This is somewhat balanced by the fact that I can use those two hours on the train, and that I hate driving in any kind of heavy traffic. Thanks to the high cost of gas, the train is just as economical as driving alone, so there is no heavy penalty there. Maybe I should take the train once a week or so, just to make time to write? I was hoping to join a vanpool, and enjoy the best of both worlds, but I’m having trouble finding one that follows my rather eccentric commuting route. Most people live a lot closer to their jobs than I do, I wonder why?

[Another Editor's Note: My apologies to the die-hard fans (both of you) who have come to expect a blog entry more often than once a month. You can see I had a few excuses, leaving a job, starting another job, finishing a class, starting a Bible Study, etc. In all the excitement, I found that I didn't really have much to say.]

100th Blog

This is a momentous occasion (for some definitions of ‘momentous,’ or, for that matter, of ‘occasion’). The Duckabush Edgren Blog has been up and running since February 2004. This week Tim wrote the 99th blog entry. As we were approaching this lofty number, Tim asked me if I would be willing to write the celebratory blog. I agreed readily but have been struggling to figure out what to write. Tim's blogs are so insightful and encouraging and often spiritually challenging, I am intimidated to write along side him.

I asked the kids for help on ideas and Joshua suggested I write about centipedes or centimeters or maybe even centuries. He’s a big help. I considered listing 100 things I was thankful for but thought that might result in a bit of an odd, unwieldy blog.

Finally I came up with something that sounded fun and interesting (always a good place to start writing) although still long. Our 100th Duckabush Blog will be full of 100 things about our family, our busy lives, our interests and loves, and so on. The children will each help me with a section. I hope you enjoy getting another peek into our lives.

Joshua
1) First born, tall, smart, thoughtful, helpful
2) Interested in drama (starred in Sir Nose the Burger Rat as Sir Nose)

Joshua starring in the lead role

3) Favorite thing to bake: waffles (makes breakfast in bed for the birthday family member on their special day)
4) Favorite card game: Authors
5) Favorite Book: Iron Scepter
6) Best Loved School Subject: History (we’re finishing up with the second part of American History this year)
7) Worked with Grandpa this year to build a loft for his room
8) Best thing about living in Lakewood: Homeschool co-op and Lake City Church
9) Looking forward to our trip to Michigan, Wilderness NW Day Camp in mid-July, and Miracle Camp in August
10) Best thing about the month of June, 2005: the cousins moved to Washington

Joshua enjoying some homemade ice cream

11) Fun Friday Tradition: sleepovers in Daniel’s room with the rest of the kids
12) New Friends in the ‘city’: Stuart, Timothy, Philip, Logan, and Nigel
13) Hardest Thing from the Year: Presidential Fitness Testing at the Y
14) Special Mondays with Daddy: Train Day to Seattle topped the list as best so far
15) Yummiest Meal: fried chicken, scalloped potatoes, and ice cream pie
16) Big Brother Role: wrestling with David

Rachel
17) Second born, beautiful, petite, honest, animal lover
18) Hardest part of gymnastics: bar (pull-overs with back hip circle)
19) Best part of gymnastics: being with friends and learning new moves
20) New Friends this year: Emily, Abigail, and Kayla

Rachel sitting in a future window at the Refuge

21) Latest book read: Goose’s Gold, A to Z Mysteries
22) Favorite computer game: Petz 3
23) Hardest school subject—tie between Math and Phonics
24) Longest Bible verse memorized this year: I Corinthians 10:6
25) Best of the Special Mondays with Daddy: Big Day in Seattle

One of the big trips with Tim on a Special Monday

26) Most unusual visitor this year: Myrtle the Turtle
27) Old friends who are missed: Leanne, Alivia, Leah, and Ema
28) Color she wants to paint her room this summer: aqua blue and purple
29) Exciting Event of the Spring—trip to Wild Waves Water Park (first time on a roller coaster)
30) Reward for saying the Books of the Bible: lunch out at KFC with Sunday School class
31) Favorite evening treat—shopping with Mommy
32) Practices the piano over at Grandma and Grandpa’s house

Daniel
33) Third born, fast, handsome, fun
34) Good friends in Lakewood: Jesse, Adam, and JJ
35) Most recent movie seen: an episode of Blondie (black and white)
36) Currently reading: The Boxcar Children

One of Daniel's birthday presents from Grandma and Grandpa

37) Special Treat of the Week: Rainbow Sherbet at Baskin Robbins
38) Favorite breakfast cereal: Fruity Pebbles
39) Likes to do Explode the Code (phonics) in school
40) Did gymnastics and swimming this year at the Y
41) Very excited about going to Michigan
42) Favorite computer game: Age of Empires (likes to play with Daddy or Zachary B. as often as possible)

Daniel and Zachary eating ice cream on the jungle climber

43) Didn’t drown at Wild Waves but had a scare
44) Liked the Timber Hawk ride best at Wild Waves (roller coaster)
45) So glad to have a cousin move to town
46) Very cheerful and willing to play outside with David and Sarah
47) Asked for a short hair cut like Zachary B.
48) Good at fixing things, very helpful around the house

David
49) Fourth Born, blond, talkative, sensitive, special
50) Favorite things in gymnastics at the Y—jumping on the trampoline and playing in the “pit”
51) Talks often about his good friend, Gus, from the Duckabush
52) Big transitions this year: Cubbies in Awana and Sunday School Class (not the nursery) in church
53) Likes to do school for a little bit then is ready to play
54) Wants Daddy to “walk him on the ceiling” as soon as Tim walks in the door from work
55) Swings every day on the swing set outside

These two are ready to throw some water balloons!

56) Loves to watch movies and play Playmobil with Sarah upstairs
57) Went to BSF this year with Mommy and Sarah
58) Begs to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house
59) Has three bathing suits and thinks we should buy Sarah some more as well

Hot day in Washington

60) Loves presents from small treats to clothes, likes to be remembered
61) Has been to Texas to visit his great grandmother: likes to swim there and ride the golf cart with Grandad
62) Is very particular about his clothes: likes to pick out his own things and cares about colors and styles
63) Must put on his socks every morning before getting dressed for the day
64) Wants to please God

Sarah

65) Fifth and last born, adorable, long wavy hair, definitely the little princess of the family
66) Adores her brother David, looks out for him and wants to be with him most of the day

Swinging out at the Duckabush

67) Recently potty trained: Yay!
68) Wants to play with anything that belongs to Rachel (the more beloved by Rachel, the better)
69) Moved out of the crib and into the bottom bunk this year
70) Likes to read books, especially The Apple Tree Farm series
71) Already knows how to pose for pictures

This girl looks very ready to sleep!

72) Favorite game with Daddy: Zoo Keeper
73) Loves dresses and the colors pink and purple
74) Likes to talk on the phone but mostly just smiles into the receiver
75) Is always ready to go to Grandma’s house to play
76) Went to BSF this year with Mommy and David
77) Scared of big dogs but loves to give treats to Martin the guinea pig
78) Calls Avery (from the Duckabush) her “best friend”
79) Thrilled to have a new back pack for the trip to Michigan
80) Sometimes falls asleep on the couch watching movies

Tim

81) Working 4 long days with Mondays off
82) Mondays are Special Kid days full of adventures and field trips and books
83) Continues to enjoy the train part of his job commute—good chance to read, write, study the Bible, work and even watch movies
84) Currently hooked on www.popcap.com games
85) Always looking for a new, great computer game

These are the new backpacks for our trip to Michigan--yay!

86) Very glad to have his brother (and family) living here in Washington – if only for all the books he can scam (I mean borrow) off him
87) Misses the Duckabush but enjoying life in the “city”
88) Stays up too late—never quite gets rested during the work week
89) Loves a gorgeous sunny day with a bright blue sky and a view of The Mountain somewhere nearby
90) Is the best father and husband ever!!

Kathy

91) Jumped right into all the “city” activities this year with BSF, a homeschooling co-op, Awana for the kids, a membership to the YMCA with special homeschooling PE classes twice a week
92) Loves the Mondays when Tim takes all the children off for a LONG adventure and gives her the day to herself
93) Likes living back in the suburbs—has made some great new friends and found a wonderful church
94) Currently off sugar, wheat, and flour as well as caffeine and NutraSweet (ie no diet Coke!!)
95) Favorite popcap game—Bejeweled
96) Wishes friends lived closer to play Settlers of Catan and Carcassonne more often

Kathy and Tina as the royalty in the game of Scum

97) Watches movie trailers online whenever there’s a good new one available
98) Occasionally will have a clean house, be caught up on laundry and have dinner made all on the same day but counters it with overdue library books
99) Lost her beloved Nana this Spring
100) Is the most blessed mother and wife ever!

There you have it—100 odd and trivial things about our family. If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed the patch work glimpse.

Kathy—Until next time

How to lose 20 pounds

A couple of Wednesdays ago I took a long lunch so I could meet with a recruiter from another company. I was disappointed with a recent raise from my employer, and I thought I would at least see what other opportunities were out there. I had my own preconceptions about how the meeting would go, and braced myself for the difficult task of being honest about my abilities yet putting my best foot forward.

At the very outset, my interviewer (who I’ll call ‘Bob’) identified himself as a Christian. This happens to me a fair bit in direct-hire interviews, since the first line in my ‘Personal Information’ section reads: “I am a dedicated follower of Jesus Christ.” I’ve been told that this may close certain employment doors to me, but I’m OK with that. (When I go through contracting firms, I usually find that they have edited that line out of my resume before presenting it to prospective clients – sort of pathetic, but not surprising.)

It rapidly became apparent that the potential position would not offer the salary I was seeking, and so I prepared to gently disengage myself from the interview and head back to the office. We had originally made plans to go to lunch, but I didn’t want to hold to that plan since I was of no further value to Bob or his company.

We chatted for a few minutes to save face, and I seized the opportunity to ask Bob about how his faith made a difference in the workplace. Coming up on the age of 40 as I am, I worry about accomplishing something in my life for the Kingdom of God, and wonder how I can make my work meaningful in an eternal context.

Bob had little to offer me in that regard, but it turned out that God had placed him in my path for an entirely different purpose.

Foxglove, aka Digitalis, growing near the Duckabush House

For a long time I have been harboring bitterness and resentment against several people whom I felt had wronged me. The Holy Spirit has been convicting me of my sin in this regard for some time, now, and just this last Communion Sunday I felt that I needed to confess my unforgiving and grudge-holding spirit. Bob gently reminded me of Hebrews 12:14-15:

”Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.”

He went on to tell me about a number of things that had happened to him, ranging from years of chronic pain culminating in the loss of a limb, to the death of relationships and betrayal on the deepest levels by close relatives. I trembled to think of how penny-ante my issues were compared to the gut-wrenching offenses that had been perpetrated against this man.

He told me about a vision that he had received from God. It began with a view of a three-tiered prison block with a guard standing on the walkway of the middle tier. As the image zoomed in, he saw that the guard was himself, complete with uniform and nightstick, and that the occupants of the cells were each of the people who had wronged him. He remembers feeling a deep sense of anger and a fierce anticipation of nightfall, when he would be able to harass the occupants of the cells with his nightstick. Then suddenly he heard the Lord say, “This is how you see it, but THIS is how it really is.” The scene changed, and he found himself a prisoner in one of the cells, and Jesus was the guard. He could feel the solidity of the bars and the tightness of his confinement, and a longing to be free. The Lord came to his cell door and asked him if he wanted to come out. “Yes!” was his answer -- but the Lord only replied, “Good, I’ll be back.” Three times this happened, and on the third time the Lord told him to reach into his pocket and hand through the bars the keys to the other cells. “Once I’ve let them out, I’ll come back for you,” He told Bob.

This story impressed me deeply, because I could see that Bob wasn’t showing any bitterness against these people. Even when telling me of the wrongs and betrayals, he was matter-of-fact and did not leak outrage the way that I do when I am nursing a root of bitterness.

Then he looked me in the eye and said to me: “There are two things you need to know about forgiveness. One, forgiveness is not about their worthiness. Two, it is not about how you feel – forgiveness is a choice.”

The idea of forgiveness being a choice really resonated with me -- something I have long understood to be true about love. My ethics professor (most colleges have at most one of these) always used to say, "Love is a choice. The best one-word definition of love is commitment." All marriages have their ups and downs -- the ones that are based on feelings don't tend to last very long. Some days I just don't 'feel' like loving -- but my love for my wife is steadfast, a choice I made regardless of how I feel. It seems that forgiveness is a decision as well ... not some fluffy feeling I need to sustain every day.

We talked a while about the availability and abundance of God’s grace when we are obedient and choose to forgive, and how useless it is to try to forgive someone in our own strength. Sitting in a busy food court over a bowl of corn chowder, I realized that God had slowly been bringing me to the point where I was willing to release my resentment and bitterness against these people, regardless of whether they ever apologized or even knew or understood that they had wronged me. In light of my own sin and desperate need for forgiveness, how could I not release these fellow prisoners from my petty resentful grudge?

Thinking about this encounter the rest of the day, I planned for some decisive and dramatic moment that evening when I would ‘officially’ lay down my bitterness on the altar and make the choice to forgive. Driving home from the train station, I realized that I had already made the choice and was feeling the absence of the burden of that grudge I had been carrying. It is a pretty good way to lose 20 pounds, I think.

Here are two little people who barely weigh 20 pounds ...

It is strange to go off to an interview expecting to be asked all kinds of technical questions, and instead to encounter two hours of intense spiritual counseling … just another reminder that so many of the events in our lives are according to God’s appointment book, not ours. I wonder what the Holy Spirit has penciled-in for me today?

5:48 am – wake Tim up with a song about my faithfulness
6:22 am – give Tim a choice between running a yellow light or developing patience
6:38 am – give Tim a chance to exercise courtesy in holding open a door for an older woman
6:40 – 7:05 am – teach Tim about my plans for the New Jerusalem during the millennium
7:25 am – convict Tim about being mean to his wife yesterday
7:50 am – meet Tim on the corner of 8th and King disguised as a homeless person

… and so on.

Disappointment

Several weeks ago I was sharply disappointed. I have been waiting for more than a month to hear the results of my annual performance review as it applies to my compensation – a subject that closely rivets my attention. Some time ago I received the narrative part of the review and was delighted to see that, in the view of my boss and peers, I had performed beyond expectations for my level and position. This was particularly welcome in light of the high performance standard and stringent hiring requirements that my employer maintains. I began to allow myself to hope for a generous increase, which turns out to have been a mistake – the small increase I did receive was half of my most conservative hopes.

My hopes weren't quite this high, but I did expect something fairly generous.

Accounting for bonuses and ignoring inflation, I am earning substantially less now than I did when I was laid off in 2002 – not quite the career path I had planned. With our Duckabush house mortgage on top of the cost for this house in Lakewood, we are not making great strides (or even a slow shuffle) toward financial security; rather we seem to be consuming our tax refund and increasing our debt level. I had really looked for a salary increase as a validation of my worth and a badly-needed affirmation of my ability to provide for my family, especially after a recent 17-month stint of unemployment. It seems very important to me to be able to bring nice things home to my family, to continually improve our lifestyle.

A large part of my satisfaction at work is tied up with my hope for the future. That hope was sharply dashed – the level of salary increase seems starkly out of step with the positive nature of my performance review. When the dust settles, actions mean a lot more than words – based on compensation, I am inclined to believe that my career prospects may be rather limited with my current employer.

As I drove home from the train station yesterday, I wondered, “Is God stingy?” Does God hold back financial blessing from me out of a sense of miserly mean-spiritedness? Why, when I have (at least in my own mind) clearly earned it, would I not reap the benefits of my hard work? As those thoughts passed through my mind, I looked to the east and saw Mt. Rainier in all its lofty glory, shouting God’s attributes with 14,000+-foot authority. Surely the God that created such lofty heights is not stingy – a stingy God would stick to rolling hills topping out at 3000 feet or less.

So then I must conclude that this salary increase is part of God’s plan for me, and He is doing something in my life through this perceived injustice. Several theories come to mind:

• I don’t handle disappointment very well at all. Perhaps God is teaching me to look to Him when my hopes are dashed.
• I continue to look to my own ability to provide for my family, rather than trusting in God. Perhaps He is reminding me to rely on Him for all my needs.
• I do not respond well to injustice, especially when I am the one being treated unjustly. When all is said and done, I would have to admit that I have mostly failed to learn this lesson in the past. Perhaps God is continuing to teach me to wait for His justice, waiving my ‘rights’ for personal, immediate justice.
• I am not known for my patience, and will often choose the path of least resistance. Perhaps God is motivating me to make the most of the opportunities for learning in my current employment situation – in a weird sort of way, lack of generous financial remuneration motivates me to more aggressively seek some other advantage in terms of on-the-job learning. It probably wouldn’t hurt me to learn a little more patience, either, although it pains me to admit this.

I’ve been reading in Isaiah lately, chapters 30 and 31, wherein the prophet warns the people against reliance on Egypt for their defense and deliverance:

”Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, who rely on horses, who trust in the multitude of their chariots and in the great strength of their horsemen, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel, or seek help from the Lord.” Isaiah 31:1

This is a repeated theme in the Old Testament – horses and chariots must have been really cool by the technological standards of the time, because the people of Israel are warned against trusting in them on multiple occasions. God’s desire was for His people to trust in Him, not in the worldly power of Egypt. Interestingly enough, Egypt is often synonymous with wealth and ease in the Scriptures – I suspect I am not reaching too far in applying this warning to my own situation. Certainly all those who trust in wealth or their own hands will be put to shame sooner or later. But is it wrong to want to work hard and enjoy the fruits of that labor?

My initial reaction is to jump ship – now that I am not tied to living in the Duckabush, surely I can find an employer who will value my experience and abilities, if not in Seattle, then somewhere else? One advantage of growing up as an Army brat is that moving holds no particular terror for me – for my own part, I would see moving to another state or country as more of an adventure than something to be feared.

On the other hand, I think that there are many things I could still learn, working where I am now. Is there any virtue in sticking it out, persevering beyond this perceived injustice, making the most of this employment opportunity?

I asked Kathy and the kids last night this question: “Which do you think would be better? Should I seek to make a lot of money, to be happy in my work, or to work in a field that accomplishes something for God?” Certainly there is no money to be made in programming for a Christian organization. I feel as though this job provides none of the three, which seems a definite lose-lose situation.

Yet the thought of leaving my current situation somehow saddens me. Call it cognitive dissonance, but I like working there for some reason. I like a lot of the people, I like the dynamic nature of the company, I like the idea (even if I don’t take advantage of it as much as I could) of learning new technologies.

I talked it over with my boss and learned that I was not particularly singled out for stingy treatment – apparently my employer is not lavish with annual increases but relies on other factors to retain employees. I’m not sure I find this particularly comforting, but there is at least a reasonably well-defined path for advancement within my organization, if I am willing to exert myself.

By a strange coincidence, I started a new project yesterday afternoon which provided me an opportunity to learn something new – I had more fun in my work yesterday than I have since I started this job. I found myself still working at 10:30 pm last night – full of energy and enthusiasm – this kind of experience has been rare in my current assignment. Was this God’s creative way of encouraging me to persevere?

As I have done many times, I cast myself into the hands of God, for Him to do with me as He wills. I choose to let Him carry the burden of any injustice that has been done, and will let Him take care of the needs (and wants) of my family. If this means that I take another job, then I will do so carefully, trusting in God to guide me in making that decision. If it means we do not buy a house, then we will continue to rent, and if necessary move to a smaller house, trusting in God for our long-term financial well-being. If it means we must give up the Duckabush house, then we will trust God for a place to retire, and count on Him for comfort in the loss of that dream.

Just outside Seattle there is a place where my train pauses at a signal to allow a southbound train to pass. It is one of the ugliest places on the planet – railroad tracks branching into industrial yards, graffiti-covered concrete warehouses standing amidst mounds of discarded ship chains and stacks of rusty rails. Yet in the morning sunshine, a wild bunny hops daintily amidst the piles of junk, looking for a dandelion poking up through the asphalt. It reminds me of the remarkable way that God can take an ugly situation and make something beautiful of it, and it gives me hope. I’ve certainly seen Him do it before, and I can rely on Him.

”Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:29-31

Fun Proverbs

I’ve been reading in Proverbs lately, and came across a couple of cool ones in chapter 27:

For the man who loves to stay at home:

Like a bird that strays from the nest is a man who strays from his home. Proverbs 27:8

A warning for those overly-cheerful morning people:

If a man loudly blesses his neighbor early in the morning, it will be taken as a curse. Proverbs 27: 14

And later in the same chapter, I came across this interesting proverb:

The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold, but man is tested by the praise he receives. Proverbs 27:21

I would have expected that a man is tested by adversity, not by success … it made me stop and think for a little while. How do I react when I am praised?

I suppose I am of two minds about it. One part of me laps it up like a man dying of thirst in the desert. Like many people, I desire the approval and accolades of my fellow man, however I might try to hide or suppress it. Another part of me is embarrassed and recoils from praise, since generally the praise is more than I deserve. More often than not, I am praised for the small or easy things I do, while the larger and more difficult things are overlooked. This has the benefit of giving me a healthily skeptical attitude toward the approval of others.

One way a man could fail a test of praise would be to puff himself up. Do I love the praise of others so much that I fail to act in proper humility? Or one could take credit where credit was not due – if I am praised for someone else’s accomplishment, do I shift the praise to the proper target? A man could also be ungracious – rejecting praise so vehemently as to offend a well-meaning person. We mistrust and despise people who allow their desire for fame to drive them, and we hold in contempt a man who steals honor from another.

Ultimately praise of men is a lot like money – there is nothing wrong with a little praise or a little wealth – but a man who makes one or the other his god cannot be trusted to do the right thing. As a child of God, I should seek His approval – I should be driven by a desire for His praise.

Here is a little girl who loves to play to the crowd.

One of the things that has discouraged me about my job over the past year is that there is little opportunity for pats on the back or accolades. If I do my job well, software rolls out without any negative fanfare, and the credit accrues to the developers who built it. The only time I come into the spotlight is if I do my job poorly and a major defect is found in the software.

I am reminded of the scriptural injunction to work as though I was working directly for God himself:

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." Colossians 3:23-24

Hotdog Boat Racing

In April we celebrated my Mom’s birthday, out at the Duckabush at her request. We tried to get an early start, but (as usual) didn’t manage to leave the house much before 11 am. Mom had asked that we have a hot-dog roast instead of the formal 7-course meal we had planned, so we reluctantly acceded to her demands and canceled our arrangement with the caterers and the troupe of musicians. Fortunately, we were able to get our deposit back on the ice sculpture swans, since it was still within the cancellation window.

Although it was raining nearly everywhere else, we enjoyed sunshine throughout our visit to the valley, which made the whole experience a lot more fun. We ate lunch outside, happily devouring potato salad and chips. Kathy brought a tasty green salad and we took turns charring our hot dogs over a small fire. Mom seemed to enjoy the presents we brought, and we all adjourned to the ravine for boat races along the stream. The little plastic boat I selected was measurably less stream-worthy than the others, or perhaps I just had a run of bad luck – my boat seemed to spend most of its time hung up on rocks or at the bottom of a little pool.

I tried to give my boat some needed character by sticking a piece of grass through the hole in the smokestack as a sort of a flag or mast, but it broke off the first time my boat capsized and left only a small stump. I thought it had a rather jaunty look, though, and it helped me identify my boat. Some snidely commented that I could easily identify my boat – it was always the last one. I thought this displayed poor sportsmanship and was rather unkind – relatives can be so cruel, sometimes.

I had to keep careful watch on my children to prevent cheating – despite the fact that no prizes were offered, the desire to win was very strong. Eventually, we raced enough so that everyone had a chance to win (or come close) except for my little red boat. I consoled myself with the knowledge that, as a mature grown-up, I had no special need to win. I don’t think anyone saw me when I went back later and raced my boat by itself, apparently the only way I could be sure of a win.

Boat racing is a surprisingly fun activity, though, and we ran up and down the streambed shouting like maniacs as the kids took turns falling into the water. Kathy had cleverly packed extra clothes for everyone, although Daniel’s spare pants never did turn up until we were on our way home. Mom seemed to take genuine pleasure in having her birthday remembered in this way, so a good time was had by all.

It was strange, though, to have Mom and Dad all to ourselves – perhaps next year there will be more cousins around at such gatherings.

Kept the Faith

A few weeks ago my wife’s Nana died, and Kathy flew to Texas to attend the funeral. At the age of 87, Nana’s death was not unexpected, yet in a strange way we were surprised by the suddenness of the end. It reminded me, in an irreverent way, of a scene in the movie Fletch, in which the character played by Chevy Chase pretends to have known an elderly man who has recently died:

Doctor: “You know, it's a shame about Ed.”
Fletch: [hesitantly -- has no idea who Ed is] “Oh, it was -- yeah, it was really a shame. To go so suddenly like that.”
Doctor: [casually] “He was dying for years.”
Fletch: [scrambling] “Sure, but, uh, the end was very, very sudden.”
Doctor: [surprised] "He was in intensive care for eight weeks!"
Fletch: [snaps irritably] "Yeah, but I mean the very end -- when he actually died -- that was extremely sudden."

Some of us expected Ida May to pass away some years ago, yet she held on to life in spite of her own vocally-expressed desire. Having lost her beloved husband in 1991, Nana wanted nothing better than to go to sleep one night and wake up in the presence of the Lord, and to “play on those golden streets with Jim Clarence”.

Nana had lived in Rochester, Minneapolis for much of her married life, but retired to Fort Clark, Texas, some years after her husband’s death. I think we were all a little surprised at the impact she made in that community in such a short time, particularly in light of her limited mobility and hearing ability.

David and Nana, 2001

I didn’t know Nana very well, and I knew her only in the twilight of her life, but there are a few things that I can offer in tribute, in no particular order:

• She was generous. Over the latter portion of her life, she distributed lump sums of her wealth to her children and grandchildren, helping many with the purchase of homes and substantially easing financial strain. She frequently bore the cost of travel and accommodations for those willing to visit her in Texas, and was always ready to help with tuition costs for a variety of degrees among her grandchildren. She routinely gave away her cars to family members who needed them and was often eager to help out with unexpected expenses.


Daniel, Nana and David, 2004

• She was opinionated. One of the things she liked to do best was to argue – not in a hostile manner, but in a calm, measured exchange of ideas. Her years of experience and depth of scriptural knowledge made her a worthy adversary on nearly any topic, and she really seemed to enjoy the thrust and parry of an intellectual discussion. One of the things I learned from Nana’s example is that it is possible to sharply disagree with someone on an important matter, yet still communicate love for that person.
• She loved the Lord. Throughout her life, Nana remained committed to loving Jesus, relentlessly studying the Bible and faithfully serving the Church. She attended adult Sunday School and helped to start Bible Studies, even though her loss of hearing made it difficult. Nana was not shy about evangelism and cheerfully would talk about Jesus even with family members who did not believe. You could not be around Nana for very long before you would hear the name of Jesus on her lips – over the course of her life she accumulated a large store of spiritual wisdom and a calm assurance in her place in Christ.


Rachel and Nana, 2002

• She loved her family. Nana used to sign her letters and e-mails, “You are all my favorites.” She would seize on anything unique about each of us so that she could truthfully say (as she did to me), “Dear Favorite Grandson-in-Law” (since I am the husband of her only grand-daughter). Somehow those humorous words had power, and she made me feel as though I really was especially loved.
• She was committed to marriage. She passionately believed that the job of each married person is to make their spouse happy, and she loved to give advice about building a good marriage (although it made her sad, after Jim Clarence had died). After many years of practice and discussion, she and Grandaddy came up with Cain’s Axioms of Marriage, shown below:
1. Vocally and frequently declare your love.
2. Make your spouse happy -- this is your most important job and function in life!
3. Never even look at another man or woman.
4. Never do anything that you anticipate will be fun without including your spouse.
5. Plan and do extra and unexpected things.
6. If away from home, contact your spouse every day.
7. Beware criticism of your spouse.
8. Eschew gossip and unilateral advice.
9. Plan and arrange time alone with your spouse.
10. Beware "money" problems.
11. Never compete with your spouse.
12. Go to the same church -- go regularly.
13. Read the Bible and pray together each night.
• She exercised self control. Although she, like many of us, struggled with her weight throughout her life, she gained some measure of victory over her body and kept faithfully to a healthy lifestyle in her last years. She swam every day when her health permitted. Many visitors will remember the thick brown bread she made and ate – yet she also knew how to enjoy a Dairy Queen blizzard from time to time. She had a strong will and knew how to apply it.


Nana and Sarah, 2003

• She was a faithful communicator. Where many her age would not take the trouble to master e-mail or other advantages of modern technology, Nana learned to use e-mail early on and helped to found the ‘E-Mail Family’ (EMF). I remember teaching a week-long computer class (complete with T-Shirts) in our basement in Michigan for her and Mamie and Aunt Kate about ten years ago – Nana made such things a priority. Each morning Nana would retrieve her mail and would send out responses to yesterday’s mail, sharing her love and wisdom to her scattered friends and family. Over time the EMF grew to include a number of friends and forged a close bond among its members – it lives on as a sort of legacy to Nana.
• She was kind. Although we inevitably disturbed her tranquility when we would visit, I never heard her speak a harsh word to any of my horde of children. She was always very affirming in the things she would say about our family, and even her rebukes were tempered with gentleness.
• She knew how to laugh and to enjoy life. In spite of the pain of her body and her failing health, Nana lived with gusto and joy, laughing and chuckling over the antics of her great grandchildren and participating in the witty banter around the card table. Some of my best memories of Nana are of sitting at her kitchen table in Fort Clark and playing “Seven Ups and Downs” (a simple card game) with others in the family. Nana’s acerbic wit and extensive vocabulary made discourse with her a pleasure to be savored.

I loved her. Nana and I disagreed on a lot of things, especially in the political and social arenas – but somehow she managed to make me feel as though she still liked me, even if I was a brash young punk who didn’t know what I was talking about.


Cindy, Nana and Kathy, 2004

And now Nana is with the Lord, and I can’t help feeling a little jealous. Like Paul, Nana could say:

”I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day – and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for His appearing.” II Timothy 4:7-8

Posted by tedgren at 09:58 PM | Comments (0)

Dreams

The other night I went to bed before 10 pm – nearly an unprecedented event in my experience – I usually am much more of a night-owl unless I am sick. Even so, morning came much too quickly, and I’m feeling drowsy as I ride the train northward.

I’ve been watching Rudy lately – a movie about a kid who dreams of playing football for Notre Dame, and eventually (through sheer stubborn perseverance) fulfills that dream. While I am not much of a sports guy, I have to admire the diligence and effort this character puts into making his dream a reality. As with many of these sports movies, the musical score is very good, tugging at my emotions and pulling me in to the fantasy that playing for Notre Dame is somehow a noble objective in and of itself, worth the effort and passion that is poured into it by this young man.

Don't get me wrong, it is a very convincing delusion.

At one point in the movie, Rudy is discouraged and about to quit because of an unfortunate change in coaches and a promise made to him by the old coach that seems unlikely to be fulfilled. One of his mentors points out that by playing on the team and attending Notre Dame, Rudy has already accomplished something worth doing, and that he should not quit. “You’re five feet nothin’, a hundred and nothin’, and you’ve got hardly a speck of athletic ability – and you hung in with the best college football team in the land for two years! And you're also gonna walk out of here with a degree from the University of Notre Dame. ” Somehow, Rudy finds this encouraging and goes back to practice.

It makes me think about my own situation in life and the many gifts and opportunities that have been lavished on me. Watching Rudy struggle through his classes at Holy Cross (before he manages a transfer to Notre Dame) reminds me of my own college career and the intelligence that God has given me. While I may be currently working in a job that does not particularly challenge me intellectually, I work among some of the smartest people I have ever known. Perhaps the challenge for me here is to learn everything I can, without being distracted or discouraged by the mundanity of my job. While Rudy is mostly a fictional character, the movie was based (however loosely) on a real-life story – it makes me think about my own dreams and what I need to do to make them happen.

So, what are my dreams? I’ve always wanted to be a Dad and a husband – check for Dad, check for husband. Except it turns out these goals are lifelong marathons, not sprints, so I guess I’m living the dream. One career or vocation I’ve long wanted to pursue is to be a missionary – yet there is a sense of not being called to that yet (or is that just fear?) in my heart.

Sometimes you just have to rough up your dad.

I’ve never expected to be particularly successful in business, and I don’t think I have enough ability to compromise to be a politician. I’ve never felt called to be a pastor or any full-time ministry that would require a pastoral mindset (I just don’t seem to have that kind of patience). I guess I always wanted to be the lead developer on a team. I certainly enjoyed the work I did at Ford -- I really had fun finding the best way to accomplish things and laying down a pattern for the other developers.

When I was in college, Kathy and I attended the Urbana Missions Conference through InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. At that point I had not yet set foot on the career path I've chosen (or fallen into), and I remember being very much attracted to a computer job in Ghana or the Ivory Coast with one of the missions agencies. These past 15 years I have often remembered that dream and wondered what my life would have been like if I had pursued that opportunity.

Hard to believe we aren't still this young.

Strangely, one of the things that has always held me back was something that was said at that same conference. One of the speakers was trying to challenge the students at the conference to think seriously about having a missions mindset, and he said something like this: “If you’re not being a missionary on your own campuses, where you already speak the language and are familiar with the culture, how are you going to be a missionary in a foreign culture where you don’t speak the language?” I recall feeling very challenged by that statement and I returned to my campus with that in mind, but as I have aged, I haven’t become much bolder in my witness. I still struggle to speak openly about the Lord in the workplace or with strangers I meet – a sense of unworthiness continues to hold me back from even investigating mission opportunities.

It has also been rather scary to watch our friends who are in language school as they prepare to serve as missionaries in Thailand with New Tribes Missions. As they move from school to school, they pack their entire household into a tiny trailer – just the thought of limiting our stuff at that level is daunting.

Daniel & Zachary -- It is always hard to let the Burts go.

While we’ve never been wealthy by American standards, I have generally enjoyed a decent flow of income (except for a recent period of unemployment). What would it be like to be on the other end of the financial spectrum, to work in a field where wealth is not the measuring stick? I can’t imagine that I would be very good at raising support … maybe I could show slides of malnourished computer programs in Kenya and network routers starved of RAM in Mozambique?

I don’t think that this desire to be a missionary is something that Kathy shares, and I’m reasonably sure that God does not generally call a married person to ministry like this apart from their spouse. So perhaps this is merely a mid-life crisis brought on by lack of achievement and a less-than-exhilarating job? I’m at the right age for such a crisis, although calling this a ‘crisis’ seems a bit dramatic. I suppose I could rush out and purchase a sports car. Truth be told, if I get a decent raise, I’m thinking about buying a VW beetle to replace my rapidly-disintegrating bronze Escort.

I can picture it now – I bring it home and park it in the driveway, gleaming in the sun – the kids rush out, shouting, “Daddy bought a Herbie!” I smile proudly until they start jumping on the front of the car, when my smiles turn to panic: “Respect the perimeter – respect the perimeter around the Herbie!” (See Cheaper by the Dozen -- the latest remake.)

Maybe I should just go play football for Notre Dame.

The Bus of Life

After several weeks of no field trip Mondays, I finally came close to finishing the Camp Video project I’ve been working on the past months, and declared that field trips would be reinstated. We needed to drop off the first 50 copies of the DVD, so we set out for the Duckabush, amidst much rejoicing.

For a long time I have wanted to visit the Undersea Warfare museum in Keyport, and once I saw that admission was free, I determined to take the kids there. We packed a picnic lunch and headed north, arriving at Keyport in a little less than an hour.

The museum was very interesting but it held minimal appeal for the younger children. Most of their experience is with hands-on science museums, and they have come to expect that museums are like playgrounds. The U.S. Navy, aiming at adults and older children, do not permit most of their exhibits to be handled, which made the experience a little more sterile than my kids prefer. Rachel was rebuked for climbing on a torpedo within a minute of our arrival, setting a negative tone on the experience which was never really dispelled.

The Quilcene valley on a foggy Spring day.

We returned to our car to eat lunch and continued on our way to the Duckabush. Determined to redeem the day, I drove the kids to the Mt. Walker lookout point and let them feed the camp robber birds that congregate there.

For David, feeding birds is a great wonder of the world.

This was much more fun than looking at a bunch of stuffy old submarine models, and the kids vied with one another for the privilege of having the birds take potato chips out of their hands. The clouds were low, but broke clear of the mountains several times – it was good to see recent snow on the Olympic Mountains after such a dry winter.

Daniel is a little jumpy, but the birds eventually came to trust him.

I don't know quite why this part of the outing was such a hit, but they really seemed to get a kick out of random birds stealing our potato chips.

Joshua was a little worried the birds were getting too many saturated fats.

We eventually arrived in the Duckabush Valley around 3 pm (so much for my intentions of getting an early start!) and handed the camp videos off for distribution. I’m not sure why the kids like visiting our old homestead so much – but they immediately scattered outside to re-acquaint themselves with the grounds.

Even in a large family, there is sometimes a little friction, but nothing that can't be worked out with a baseball bat.

After looking over the progress being made on the Retreat Center, we found ourselves down at ‘Twin Bridges’ where we played in the stream for what seemed like a long time. There is something about running water that will keep children amused indefinitely – indeed, I found myself quite engrossed in boat races. Through some freak chance, Daniel and David avoided falling into the stream and it was Rachel who had to go back to the house to change.

Sarah really enjoyed going back and forth across the bridges, as have many of her siblings before her.

While you might think that five children and their Dad would be unwelcome in polite society, one of our former neighbors insists that we visit whenever we are out that way, so we dutifully invited ourselves over to their house (it was sheer coincidence that it was dinner time). After enjoying conversation, pizza and macaroni and cheese, we sat down and watched one of the Camp DVDs together. The video seemed to be a success, and we tore ourselves away around 8 pm, heading home tired but happy. We missed the Burts, though – it doesn’t seem right to hang out at the Bringhams' house without them.

This weekend Kathy will be away on a women’s retreat and so I will have the kids to myself for much of the weekend – it will be interesting to see if I can maintain my ‘fun Daddy’ image for the long haul. It is supposed to be rainy, which will add to the challenge – everyone gets a little stir-crazy when it rains the whole weekend.

OK, so I had a lot of pictures of kids feeding birds. So sue me.

This morning my commute was a bit more exciting than usual – I got a late start and there were two accidents on the highway, so I had to run to catch my train. At a later stop, I saw a man coming down the stairs from an overhead walkway – he started to run, then he must have realized that he wouldn’t make it to the train in time, so he slowed down. Inexplicably, the train doors remained open much longer than expected, but by the time he realized this and resumed his headlong pace down the stairs, he was too late. I think life is like that sometimes – we don’t try to reach for something because we think we won’t make it, and then it turns out that if we only had tried we would have reached our goal. I guess that guy will take the bus in to work and will probably arrive 20 minutes late – how many of us are settling for the Bus of Life when we could, with a little exertion, be riding the train?

Spring into the Future

It is cool and crisp this bright Tuesday morning, and the sun made driving difficult as I rushed to reach the train station in time. Today (or maybe yesterday) is the first day of Spring – fittingly, we had the first frost that we have had for some time, today.

Kathy has been encouraging me to take these alfalfa tablets recommended by one of her friends in the Homeschool Co-op – I’m not sure they’re helping, but my allergies don’t seem as bad as they have been in previous years. Last year, of course, I was clever enough to be invited to Michigan for the celebration at Trinity Evangelical Presbyterian Church, and missed the worst of the allergy season.

It is funny to think of what a difference a year has made in our lives, remembering that at this time a year ago I was at the end of a 17-month period of unemployment. Now I have been working for my current employer for nearly a year and am anxiously awaiting my first annual review … I wonder where I will be a year from now?

Over the weekend I continued my unpopular ‘No field trips until the WNW 2004 DVD is finished’ program, much to the dismay of my children and (perhaps even more) my wife. Kathy managed to snatch a quick visit over to Julee’s house but otherwise missed her down-time on Monday grievously. Joshua cleverly persuaded me to read a few chapters of The Hobbit between DVD burns, but the others were largely neglected. My 'Dad ratings' are plummeting, and the pressure is on to come up with something really fun for next week’s outing. I made a wry comment to Kathy that I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I ever finished this project – the kids all agreed that I could use my spare time planning our Monday field trips. How kind of them to think of a use for all that (otherwise wasted) time.

There is just something really cool about having a sister, as Kathy often laments.

I was off on Friday and haven’t checked my e-mail all weekend – I’m a little worried that something may have come up over that time that needed my attention. On the flip side, I’m a little worried that I wasn’t missed at all and that I am not very essential to my employer. I guess you can’t have it both ways. Today is my last day of alternate on-call – how nice that the pager hasn’t woken me up once during these last two weeks.

As the summer approaches our thoughts turn to the question of where we will live once our lease runs out on this house. We’ve been fairly happy here but are not eager to continue paying rent at this high rate. I’m of the mind to purchase a home in the Puyallup or Sumner areas, depending, of course, on a favorable performance review and some modest increase in pay. Kathy is very happy in Lakewood, though – maybe we could find a home that is a little closer to the train station yet still in easy range to the YMCA, the Homeschool Co-op and Julee’s house. Yesterday we scored a bag of chocolate-chip cookies from Kathy’s friend – such advantages are not to be overlooked in choosing a home.

The older kids continue to pray that we could move back to the Duckabush, but my work situation does not seem to be moving toward a work-from-home arrangement. Truth be told, I am not so inclined to push for permission to telecommute now that I see how happy Kathy is, living in the suburbs. Of course, it is non-trivial to buy a home when we are already paying a mortgage on our home in the Duckabush – house prices in the area are up as interest rates continue to be low. I think that space is one of our biggest priorities, although proximity to a train station looms in my thinking.

Neither Kathy nor I are big savers, so coming up with a 20% down-payment is pretty much out of the question. One possibility is to take advantage of my eligibility for a VA loan – but the funding fee of 1.5% - 2.25% is a bit of a deterrent, and even there it would be to our advantage to come up with a substantial down-payment. I guess if God wants us to own a home rather than pay rent, He can work out the finances.

The train is fairly full today, although initially it seemed very empty when we started out in Tacoma. People must be tired – a much higher proportion of people are dozing than usual. Or perhaps they are just closing their eyes against the slanting rays of the sun, unaccustomed as we are to its glory.

Daffodils and DVDs

After what seems an interminable stretch of warm and sunny days, this morning is cloudy and cool, and there is a rumor of this crazy wet stuff that falls from the skies (I think they call it ‘rain’). In spite of the universal cloud cover, sunshine bathes the slopes of The Mountain and illuminates the daffodil fields outside Puyallup to the delight of my eyes.

I woke at 4:50 this morning, wheezing and snurfling from my allergies, and spent some entertaining 40 minutes trying to get back to sleep, as the paper route lady with no muffler continued her plague of our street with her comings and goings. Eventually I gave up, and took solace in a long hot shower, only emerging when the water temperature began to fail. Whatever troubles may accrue in life, everything is more bearable when there is plenty of hot water.

I’ve been on-call this week, which was a source of some concern initially – I was worried that I wouldn’t know how to assign the tickets as they came in (finding who is responsible for a problem is a real challenge where I work). It has been a pretty quiet week, however, and I’ve only been paged a few times (and none at night). Today I hand off the duty to someone else, and I don’t come up for a turn again for several months.

Over the weekend I have been working on the much-delayed Wilderness Northwest 2004 Day Camp DVD, and so I didn’t take the kids on any kind of outing (except a brief walk around a nearby lake). I felt that I needed to stay near the house in case I was paged – as it turned out, this was an unnecessary precaution. If I hadn’t stayed home, though, it would be just my luck that I’d be off in some remote place and all kinds of trouble would break loose.

I have five children, but they ride like a thousand.
I’m trying hard to finish the DVD before Easter – it is rapidly coming to the point that if I don’t finish soon, the video will be of little use to Jody and the camp. Initially I told Jody I hoped to finish by Thanksgiving, then Christmas and Valentines’ Day. Easter is pretty much my last fall-back position – beyond that, kids will already have signed up for the 2005 camp session. I don’t know how movie directors can stand to cut out all those good scenes – I’m trying to cut about 40 hours of video down to about 130 minutes, and it is a real challenge.

Over the weekend we attended a seminar on preventing child abuse and molestation at church – a required seminar for all those volunteering to serve with children’s ministries. A chilling and unpleasant topic, the seminar ran from 8:30 am to 1:30 pm Saturday, effectively monopolizing the day. On a more positive note, I had the opportunity to see an old friend and mentor who preached at Main Post Chapel on Fort Lewis, and to chat with him for more than half an hour after the service. We also attended the Concert of Prayer at church Sunday night, which was a lot more fun than I expected. Joshua, Rachel and Daniel joined us and were not afraid to pray out loud in their small groups – I was proud of them.

I always brace myself on Tuesdays, because it is the start of my week, now that I am working four-day work-weeks. But it is remarkable how quickly the weekend comes along again – working only four days is a privilege I am coming to really enjoy.

Ice Cream Tantrums

Special Days with David are full of fun and laughter.

Now that Christmas is over (and we have finally taken down our tree) we are getting back into a more scheduled lifestyle. Kathy has hit the homeschooling trail hard, and I’ve re-established Special Days with each of the kids. Strangely, most of them have come to prefer that I snuggle down on Big Blue (our new double recliner) and read to them, preferably with ice cream at the end of the hour. I recently started reading The Hobbit to Joshua and All Creatures Great and Small to Rachel. David and Sarah gather up a huge stack of books – only Daniel holds firm as a computer game player.

Book rascals

I was very impressed with little Sarah last week by the way she handled David’s Special Day. Her day is on Friday, and when Tuesday rolls around (David’s day) it seems to her to be about time for another day of her own. It is very hard for her to accept that I am reading to David and not to her. Traditionally I exclude the other children from whatever activity I am doing with the ‘special’ child, but David graciously allows Sarah to listen when I read him books – although he makes it clear that she may not sit between us. When it came time to have ice cream, Sarah had a hard time. I told her that it was not her Special Day and that the ice cream was only for David (and, of course, me). I reminded Sarah that her Special Day was on Friday and that she and I could have ice cream then. (Note that Special Days come, and Special Days go, but I get ice cream every weekday. I wonder who came up with that plan?) I'm thinking about marketing it as a new best-selling eating program -- maybe I'll call it the Fat Beach Diet?

Who wouldn't give this girl their ice cream?

Sarah actually handled it very well. She went and reported to Kathy with a sad face that the ice cream was only for David and Daddy. Then she came back and sat on the love seat and watched us eat. I’ve known a few two-year-olds in my time, and I can’t think of many that would handle such a thing without fussing and ruining the time for everyone involved – I was very proud of her character. After waiting a few moments to ensure that she was not about to launch into a tirade, I gave her the rest of my ice cream. I wonder if God sometimes waits to see how I will react to hardship before he rewards or blesses me? How much ice cream have I missed in my tantrums, and was any of it double chocolate chunk? Reflections of this sort can keep one awake nights.

Administrative Announcement

Due to the incessant bombardment of automated blog 'comments' advertising online poker and other less savory 'offerings', I have reluctantly shut down the comments feature on my weblog. Please feel free to e-mail me with any comments.

On a gentler note, may the Lord bless you and bring you joy on this glorious Christmas Eve.

Veteran Shopping Bringham Cousins

Another weekend has gone by, and Christmas rapidly approaches. I am always astounded at how quickly Monday morning arrives, especially when my alarm goes off. Today was a very good day in that I found a back exercise that gives me some relief from the pain of a recent injury. In the past ten days, I have experienced considerable pain in getting out of bed – my vertebrae seem to bitterly resent the transition from recumbent to vertical. It has frequently taken me 10-15 minutes of sitting cross-legged on the floor, rocking in pain, before I could walk comfortably to the bathroom or stand in the shower. Today I tried lying on my back and bringing both knees up toward my chest, holding them there for 45-60 seconds – hurray, it seemed to work, and I was able to get out of bed with nothing more than the usual morning sluggishness! How delightful that our bodies can heal, thanks be to God!

Our packages are pretty much all mailed off, except for one or two gifts that are not time-sensitive. Now our attention turns toward the impending arrival of the Kansas Edgrens. My brother is not able to get away from the demands of his job this season and so will remain in Korea – we will miss his sardonic wit and silliness, among other things. But Elizabeth, Timothy, Rebecca and Samuel arrive this afternoon, with much fanfare. I wonder how much it would cost to hire a small brass band to provide some genuine fanfare – I guess you need at least two trumpeters and a French horn … I’m not sure what the standards are for this kind of thing. It would be fun to meet them at the gate with a small celebratory band. Admittedly, airport security would never cooperate unless they were incentivized, but it could probably be arranged. Maybe I should have stuck with my studies as a trumpeter, even though I never got past third chair.

It is getting pretty grim as Kathy and I squabble with my parents for our fair share of time with ‘the cousins’. A lot of people think my Mom and Dad are sweet, godly people – but they don’t know the ugly truth. Last night I tried to put in our family’s bid for a few small social engagements with Elizabeth and the kids – but I was firmly rebuffed. My folks obviously intend to hog the Kansas Edgrens for themselves, abusing their position as host, with no regard for propriety or fair play. It is sad to see two people reach such depths of moral deterioration in their dotage, but I guess it is just a lesson to us all, to be on our guard. Even Solomon turned away from God in the last days of his life. But I’m struggling with the shame of it all – this is just not the kind of thing you expect to see in your own parents!

My parents aren't complete ogres. They did invite us over to dinner, so we could at least see our beloved relatives.

On Saturday I took the older kids out shopping – it was quite a madhouse out there. We were foolish enough to attempt Tacoma Mall as our first stop – it took 15 minutes to get from the highway exit to the parking lot, and 20 minutes to get out! The mall is a stone’s throw from the highway. It was maddening watching the traffic on the other side of the fence zip along as we sat motionless behind half a billion shoppers. The stores were crowded and the lines were long – my back was aching from the outset. But I was impressed with my older three – they were surprisingly generous in spending their accumulated wealth on their siblings and cousins, and not once did I hear the dreaded words, “Can I buy something for myself?” For reasons of secrecy, I went through the checkout line three times (once with each of the older three) – not my idea of a fun time. We moved on to visit Ross’, Bed Bath & Beyond, Barnes & Noble and finally Target, each time waiting through the lines. The line at Ross’ was so long that I ruthlessly abandoned Joshua to it and took the other two kids to Bed, Bath & Beyond – we made a circuit of the whole store and returned to Ross’, finding Joshua still in line. He was not particularly amused, but bore it without too many recriminations. I had fortified each of the children with a Slurpee after our harrowing escape from Tacoma Mall, so their spirits didn’t begin to flag until we finished Target (where the checkout lanes were blessedly short). Heading home, I began mischievously suggesting additional shopping destinations, while the kids chanted “Home, home, home” at the top of their lungs. A proposed visit to Ikea (40 minutes to the north, and known to be extremely crowded) brought out the most strident opposition, and so we returned home as conquering heroes.

I thought that Rachel really handled the news well, that we needed to go back to Tacoma Mall on Sunday.

The Bringhams came to visit us Saturday evening, arriving in time for supper and staying late into the evening, to celebrate Tom’s 50th birthday and to either celebrate or mourn the outcome of Tom’s recent application to the postmaster position in Brinnon. As we discovered, he did not get the job – I was encouraged by the way he bore the news cheerfully. It is hard when God says ‘No’, even when we trust Him to do the best thing.

The birthday boy himself, complete with entourage.

Our original plan had been to visit “ZooLights” – an elaborate Christmas light display offered by the Point Defiance Zoo. So after dinner we all piled into our respective minivans and drove to the north end of Tacoma, only to find that the entire population of Pierce County was there before us. People were parking on the street a half-mile from the zoo parking lot (which was presumably also full). Wisely deciding that discretion is the better part of valor, we turned our minivans around and headed back to the house for cake and ice cream. Still not very familiar with Tacoma, I led us haphazardly through some of the less-well-known neighborhoods until we finally found our way to a recognizable route home. The Bringhams stayed and talked fairly late, considering they were facing a 90-minute trip home – Tom left with Jeremiah and Teddi around 10 pm, but Casey and Annjanette stayed until after 11:30 pm. It was a delightful visit that brought back many happy memories of late-night gatherings in the Duckabush.

Sarah sure loves her 'Aunt' Casey.

Sarah and David have both been sick over the weekend, suffering from various flu-like symptoms, and so I stayed home with them and with Daniel while Kathy attended the Lake City church with the older two. In the afternoon we had the opportunity to go Christmas caroling at the nearby Veterans’ Hospital – I took the older three and joined my parent’s Sunday School class. It was very sad to see the people at the Hospital – they seem to be the wreckage and driftwood of humanity, cast up on a cold and uncaring rocky beach far from the warmth of home. Many of them showed little comprehension of the reason for our visit, staring blankly at us without expression as we sang. Our society is so shielded from any encounter with old or handicapped people – I was glad to have the opportunity to show this side of life to the kids.

Dreary Monday

It is a dark and dreary Monday, and I’m stuck sitting in traffic. The train is packed, which suggests that many saw the rainclouds and (like me) determined not to join the throngs splashing along on I-5. Usually this train moves along briskly, but today we seem to have lost priority and must wait patiently on some freight train or other. Not that I’m eager to get to work – on a day like this, people should all stay home and enjoy a good book in front of the fire.

I remember some job I had in which I always had Mondays off – that seems a very good way to live, as I recall. Working on Mondays is like waking up at 2:30 a.m. – it just isn’t right. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say,

“Yep, I got plenty of rest and enjoyed myself all weekend. Whooo-eee -- it is good to be back at work today!”

I suppose there are some who feel that way, but I hope not to meet such people, at least not today when I feel so gloomy.

Seattle is a beautiful place to live, but not in early December. The ugly warehouses and industrial detritus that we pass do little to lift the soul or inspire the poet. It seems a stark contrast to the blaze of lights and Christmas decorations we enjoyed last night as I finally set up the tree – definitely this part of Seattle could use some Christmas cheer.

He always was a snappy dresser.

I guess this day can't be all bad -- it is the birthday of my favorite brother. Happy birthday, Mark!

Worship

I seem to have finally settled on a church near our home, after trying five other churches, although Kathy continues to cast a roving eye at another church in the area. While there is probably always a better church on the other side of the fence, I feel that our family needs the stability of choosing a church, and this one has a number of the elements we consider critical. First, they are governed by a board of male elders. Church government structure wasn’t always so important to me, but after a negative experience with one church, I have come to consider this a critical criterion in choosing a church. We enjoy the liveliness of the worship service, which seems well-designed to glorify God in a joyful manner. The pastor of the church is a good preacher, and is forthright and likeable. There is a good program for our children, but no Sunday school for grownups (a worrying trend: Sunday school seems to have fallen out of vogue in many churches). The church has a large number of home-group Bible studies (we have not yet managed to join one, but have high hopes).

Our pastor has recently started a series on Worship. Ordinarily, after leading us in a few songs, the music team nips off-stage before the offering is taken. But last week they stayed on the platform for the duration of the service. After the pastor identified a number of the ways that we worship (Praise, Thanksgiving, etc.) we would sing a song that highlighted that attribute of the worship experience.

This week he focused on the different modes of worship, and again we were invited to a higher level of participation than is usual. We were taught on each subject and then practiced singing, shouting, bowing, clapping and the raising of hands as some of the modes of worship frequently mentioned in the Bible. The pastor claimed he couldn’t dance and thus was unwilling to teach on that expression – I suspect he knew that many of us would be a little put off by being required to dance in church.

Once again, I throw in a bunch of non-pertinent pictures, just because I can.

Participative worship is a bit of a stretch for me – I’m more comfortable with a reserved, unemotional worship style. I don’t generally raise my hands or clap or shout ‘Amen’ during the service. I have never been known to leap over chairs or dance in the aisles and am suspicious of churches that are long on emotional worship experience and (sometimes correspondingly) short on Biblical teaching.

But it seems that solid teaching and enthusiastic worship are not mutually exclusive. This pastor does an excellent job of sticking closely to the scriptures in his preaching and teaching, yet the worship that we enjoy is vibrant and full of emotion. It was a strange experience for me to progress through the various physical modes and through my corresponding emotional responses.

Singing was not very hard – I am a firm believer in singing loudly (and occasionally on-key) and am no stranger to the feeling of joy and enthusiasm that often accompanies such expression. Most songs have lyrics I can sing without hesitation, although there are a few that contain excessive hyperbole that I won’t sing. There is a chorus we used to sing in a previous church that talks about the way that God’s presence can be ‘felt’ in the church – it includes the phrase, “I can hear the angel wings brushing the walls” or something like that. Call me stubborn, but I have never yet heard the angel wings, so I don’t sing that song. Being a bit of a literalist, I’m not that keen on poetic license, anyway.

Next we practiced shouting, with focus on the words ‘Amen’ and ‘Praise the Lord!” Again, this wasn’t too difficult for me, although I’m wary of using this mode of expression as a way to say, ‘Hey, look at me, aren’t I spiritual!” I’ve attended churches where one or two people sing out an ‘Amen’ or ‘Preach it, brother’ every time the pastor pauses or finishes a sentence – personally, I find it pretty distracting, although it might be an encouragement to a pastor. At least he would know that someone was awake. But in this case, the whole congregation was invited to shout out together, and I found it … surprisingly powerful. There was a feeling of inhibitions being cast off and of moving to a higher level of sincerity in my worship toward God, disregarding the opinions of those around me. Since worship is all about God and very little about me, this seems appropriate. I shouldn’t be worried about looking (or being) a fool for Jesus’ sake. It made me think about the way the Israelites would sometimes shout -- as they did while marching around Jericho, for example.

Sometimes it is fun to just say "Wow!" to God.

We moved on to bowing and kneeling, which was a major departure from my usual worship style. I’ve attended churches with kneelers, but rarely used them; in such cases the practice has been thoroughly encysted with rote and ritual. The pastor simply asked us to kneel in place (if we could fit) or to bow our heads while the worship team sung ‘We Bow Down’ (a praise chorus made popular by Twila Paris). I scooted out to the aisle and dropped to one knee, attempting to humbly present my soul before the throne of God. As I knelt there before the King, I began to weep, tears dropping off the end of my nose and onto the carpet, creating a sizeable damp patch. I had the sense of being like one of the vassals of King Richard (the Lionheart) in the days of Robin Hood, presenting myself before the King upon his unexpected return and accounting for my conduct and my secretive support of his usurping brother, Prince John. While I have not openly supported my King’s enemies, there are many sinful things I have done which do not stand up well to scrutiny. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, yet one I am loath to forget. The simple physical sensation of bowing my head and causing my body to kneel seemed to produce in me feelings of humility and subordination to God that are (sadly) quite unusual for me. I felt deeply ashamed as I knelt there in the shabby rags of my pride and arrogance, squinting my eyes against the glory of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. And so I wept for the entire song, unable to sing a word, although I know it well.

We moved on to clapping (which I dislike, possessing not a rhythmic bone in my body) – several times the pastor had us clap for God, giving Him honor with our hands. The problem with clapping for God is the question: how do you stop? God is worthy of infinite praise; he who stops first is somehow unspiritual, and there is no clear end-point as there is with a song. While I have no problem with giving honor to God, I don’t think clapping is the best avenue of expression for that – I’d much rather sing or shout something more meaningful that engages the mind. Plus, I was getting bruised hands from trying to be super-spiritual. :)

Finally, we sang a chorus with our hands raised – the pastor talked about how this posture communicates (among other things) affection, vulnerability and trust toward God. I was a bit skeptical, but I found that I did actually feel a little more connected to God when singing with my hands raised. I’m not sure I will adopt this practice as a part of my worship style, but I am much more open to it than I was before.

It was a moving experience, one which transformed a routine church service into a visit to the actual House of God. I have reflected on this most of the week, and have come to a few tentative conclusions:

• While any worship style can, over time, become rote and meaningless, some styles are less prone than others to becoming disconnected from the heart.


• Proper worship of God needs to incorporate a sense of humility. Kneeling seems to go a long way toward accomplishing this.


• I need to be a lot less concerned about what other people think of me, and a lot more concerned about what God thinks of me, when I am attending a worship service.

When King David wanted to honor God by bringing the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem, the occasion was marred by the death of Uzzah, son of the man who had kept the Ark in the years since it was fearfully and apologetically returned to Israel by the Philistines (as described in I Samuel 6 & 7). Uzzah, who ought to have known better, touched the Ark to steady it when one of the oxen pulling the cart stumbled; the wrath of God killed him for his presumption. This made David think less about the Ark as a talisman of God’s favor and more about God’s holiness and majesty – so he left the Ark outside the city for three months while he thought it over.

When he finally did bring the Ark into the city, it was with elaborate precautions and sacrifices. David himself was so anxious to please the Lord that he set aside his kingly dignity and danced in his undergarments in front of the Ark as it was brought into Jerusalem (II Samuel 6). David seemed to understand (as his wife, Michal, did not) that the only audience worth caring about was God.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll start dancing at church one of these days ...

Life in the Big City

Today is the last day of the class I have been taking at the University of Washington. Each Friday I take off early from work and from 2-5 pm I pretend I’m back in college (except for the Frisbee, wargaming, and sleeping-in until 1 pm). The course materials have been dull, and I have been rather bored. But I have found that enjoyment of academic pursuits are a lot about what you put into them … in my case, I get what I ‘paid’ for, since I’ve put little effort into this class. Over the past several weeks, I’ve gotten behind on my semester-end project and had to put in a lot of time this past week to catch up. Ironically, now that I am crunched for time, I find that the coursework interests me and I wish I had made better use of my opportunities to explore some of the more obscure facets. Today I present my class project – I feel a little sheepish about how much more developed it could have been. Hopefully I can bring this lesson forward, if they offer another class that interests me.

This is 4th Avenue, where I go on Friday afternoons for my class.

It is strange to live in the ‘city’ after spending four years in the wilds of the Olympic Peninsula. So many things are very convenient and accessible. Yesterday we had cable internet service installed at the house – for the first time ever we are enjoying a heady, high-speed alternative to 56K dialup. While many websites are still slow, download speeds for large content is brisk – it is very pleasant to surf the web without cement blocks on your feet. I spent almost two hours wrestling with our cable modem before I discovered that the connection could not be shared between several machines (only a single IP address is assigned to the cable modem). It turns out that (in order to share the high-speed connection) I need a router to sit between my computers and the modem – at the cost of another $60, arrrgghhh.

This is a strange building I often walk past -- I'd hate to be in there if another big earthquake strikes.

Kathy and I have been talking lately about the future – this life in Lakewood feels very temporary to me. I would like to either move back to the Duckabush (if my work would permit) or move closer to work (maybe near the Puyallup or Sumner train stations) once our lease is up with this house in August, 2005. Sometimes we talk about moving to Michigan (although our memories of the winters there have not sufficiently faded). Kathy really likes living in Lakewood – but my folks plan to move away (and I suspect she has the happy ability to be content anywhere). Then there is the question of my brother and his family – will they really move to Fort Lewis, or will they stay in Kansas, where they are very happy? Our families seem to be cursed (like Superman and Clark Kent) to never live in the same town. While I was finishing school in Virginia, Mark was in Germany. By the time he was assigned to Fort Monroe (VA), I had moved to CT. Then he was in Dayton, OH, but left around the same time I moved to Michigan. It would be typically ironic if my brother’s family moved here only to have us pull up stakes and move away.

Truth be told, we do have some misgivings about moving back to the Olympic peninsula, even if circumstances permitted and we could bring ourselves to give up high-speed internet service. Kathy and I were very hurt by the relational damage that came out of our disagreement with the local church's leadership, and we’re not sure that we could be happy there after all that has happened, and the way that relationships have been soured. It is such a tiny community that a little discord goes a long way.

My folks are enjoying the use of our house in the Duckabush valley as an experimental retreat center, while they continue to wait for the main Retreat House to be built. After a thorough cleaning by our beloved Judy, my folks have been furiously outfitting the house with beds and furniture. I understand that the first official retreat is scheduled in December – it is exciting to see this dream become more of a reality. On Saturday we are holding a board meeting out at the ‘Duckabush House’ (as our former home is now styled) and will likely discuss plans to move forward now that we finally have a permit to build the main retreat lodge. It is sad to me to think that we lived there all those years and only now that we are not there is the retreat center being built – again, we seem to be out of step with the proper schedule of things.

Every day, when I come to the platform, there are two identical trains sitting there. One goes south to Tacoma, while the other either sits there for another 30 minutes or heads north to Everett. The trains are both marked 'Tacoma' but only one is the proper train. It is a source of considerable confusion for me, not what I need at the end of a long day.

I’ve been reading in I Kings about the dedication of Solomon’s temple – what a surprisingly interesting passage! The description of the temple furnishings was reminiscent of the tabernacle passages in the Pentateuch – a modern Christian is left wondering why so much narrative was provided on a physical description of the temple when the time or space could have been (better?) used in moral instruction or revelation of God’s nature. I think that our post-modern cynicism and familiarity with spiritual things may cause us to seriously underestimate the holiness and majesty of God. Solomon had 120,000 sheep sacrificed (and sundry other animals) for the dedication of the temple of the Lord God. Most of us would have stopped at a ceremonial 12, if we could bring ourselves to sacrifice at all. The mind boggles at the scale of the bloodshed – yet Solomon’s long-winded and prophetic prayer seems to indicate that he had a pretty good idea of who God is. It must have been really something to be working in the temple when the Presence of God filled the temple area with a cloud – how awesome to see with your eyes a shadow of God’s majesty.

It is always good to be reminded of the awesome power of God – I know that I am prone to continually exaggerate my own importance in the scheme of things. Yesterday I was feeling gloomy (mostly due to a lack of sleep) and was thinking critical thoughts about the way that God is managing my life. Sad to think that I have still not learned the lesson that it is not all about me.

One of the things that troubles me is that I am not enjoying my work very much. A lot of what I do is pretty tedious and there is little opportunity to do anything well. I am almost always under time pressure such that I find myself always reacting and never working proactively. Much of my work is of the use-once, throw-away variety, which is unsatisfying to me. I tend to enjoy building something that has at least some lasting value – a non-trivial challenge in the world of software development. Even the best of computer systems cannot hope for much more than a five-year lifespan. Sadly, the prospects for change are fairly limited – there is no immediate hope of changing this job into something more interesting.

Almost immediately it seemed to me that the Holy Spirit put a thought into my head: what did the Lord do before beginning his public ministry at age 30? Here we have the Creator of the universe, King of King and Lord of Lords, who is willing to waste his time doing rough carpentry? Talk about throw-away work – from an eternal perspective, the things He built out of wood didn’t last very long. Surely He had better things to do with His time? Yet we find no mention of His activities between age 12 and 30.

I find that somehow comforting, as I speculate about the plan for Jesus’ life on earth. Were those 18 years important in terms of building a reputation, or giving Jesus credibility? Or were they critical in fulfilling the requirement that He be ‘tempted in all ways that we are tempted’? Whatever the reason, isn’t it likely that this time of my life, which seems to be going nowhere, is accomplishing some divine purpose?

It is hard to be patient, though. I guess that is one of the temptations Jesus faced – it surfaces in His remark to Mary at the wedding feast in Cana – “My time has not yet come.” (John 2) A human (and Jesus was fully human, yet fully God) feels the pull of time keenly – it must have been hard to wait on the timing set by the Father for the beginning of His public ministry. Jesus’ response to Mary’s faith and the immediate launching of His public ministry make me wonder if He was surprised to find that, in fact, the time had come for the gathering of His disciples and the beginning of His teaching and healing ministry.

Now that I have turned 39, I am a little more conscious of my mortality and the time that I have spent on various pursuits, some of them pretty worthless, some of them having eternal value. I guess all I can do is be patient, trying to redeem the time at work as best I can, watching for the opportunity to make something useful out of this time and learning whatever lessons God teaches me.

Birthday 39

It is a cool and dreary Friday afternoon, and the train is nearly full. Like many others, I hate fighting the southbound traffic on Fridays, which is usually worse when the roads are wet, and so I made sure to take the train today. I feel a little let down, because it was my birthday today, but there was nothing particularly special about it (at least so far).

Traditionally, I always take my birthday off from work, ever since I was scheduled to work at Holiday Inn on the evening of my 17th birthday, and decided to quit as a birthday present to myself. I have often joked that it is a warning sign to any employer if I don’t take my birthday off – they ought to start looking for a replacement. I think this may be an exception to that rule, since I have so little time off accrued, and much of it is spoken-for next summer. Having been unemployed for so long, I expect I’ll think long and hard before quitting any job.

This morning I was awakened before my alarm by a heavy, pounding rain. Here in the beautiful Northwest, we prefer rains that waft in as a gentle mist, keeping the foliage green and the reservoirs full, yet not seriously inconveniencing anyone. It is a courteous, gentlemanly rain, not like that brash, villainous rain they get in the Southeast.

But there is nothing courteous or gentlemanly about a rain like this morning’s, especially one that wakes me at 5:20 am. It is certainly true that I do not sleep as well with Kathy away. I roll around all night in a luxury of space that I simply do not deserve, and my conscience knows it and keeps my sleep uneasy.

There is a stark contrast between my daily schedule and that of the rest of my family, these days. As a reader might suppose from reading this blog, my life could be described by some as being comprised of long periods of boredom relieved by short periods of ennui. My work, fascinating though it may be to some, does not lend itself to epic story-telling, and my off-hours are spent mostly in quiet pursuits, such as reading or playing computer games. Insomniacs Anonymous has frequently sought me on as a guest speaker, and I understand that an MP3 file of my famous lecture on the relevance of IMS DB/DC COBOL programming is a popular download among those suffering from severe sleeplessness.

Kathy, however, is at the hub of all that is exciting and interesting, as her brother’s wedding preparations near completion and relatives flock in from all corners of the globe. I keep trying to persuade her to write a blog entry, but she cannot seem to tear herself away from the events of the day long enough to reflect. I understand that a power outage has struck the hotel where many of the out-of-town visitors are staying, and that some relatives are missing, presumed, well, missing. My children have joined Grand-dad in a frenzy of last-minute preparation of the Thornhollow grounds, but further details are not available.

Instead, I’ll regale you with tales of the course I am taking. In a partnership with the University of Washington, my employer offered a series of “continuing education” courses to those of us who require that sort of thing. Although my first choice course was cancelled, I did manage to enroll in another course, and spend three hours of my Friday afternoons across town listening to lectures about XML.

As it turns out, this is subject matter to rival my gripping IMS DB/DC discussion, and I find myself glazing over almost as soon as I settle in to my seat at the lab. To make matters worse, food and drink are banned from the classroom, so I am unable to jolt my system with a healthy swig of Diet Coke. From time to time I stagger out and take a gulp from the container I secret outside the classroom – I feel like some kind of derelict hitting the bottle. Maybe I should get a flask or a brown paper bag.

Recently the professor took a survey, and I had the opportunity to comment that I found the pace “way too slow”. It would seem that others agreed, because the instructor spoke with much more animation today and we were granted four hands-on exercises instead of the usual two. I suggested that he ask more questions, and so I cudgeled my molasses-filled brain and tried to actually answer when he did, in fact, ask. As with many things, you get out what you put into things – once I began to take a more active interest, I found myself more able to stay awake.

I had a lovely visit with my parents last night – strange to eat dinner & dessert with just the two of them – there was even a substantial amount of the Black Forest Cake left over! This would certainly never have happened if my horde of children were around – as it was, Dad and I put a brave face on it and each suffered through two pieces of cake. My Mom (who claims she ought to know this kind of thing) insists that I was born on the 6th of October. She hints that the doctor who delivered me was a bit on the inebriated side, and probably forgot to fill out the paperwork until he recovered from his hangover. Dad, ever the diplomatist, suggested we celebrate on the 7th as a sort of a compromise, and so I was treated to a birthday dinner and window-shopping excursion.

Thanks to my self-indulgent nature, I already have everything I could possibly want, and a fair number of things that I don’t want (as witnessed by the piles in our garage). I seem to be a difficult person for whom to buy a present.

I had planned to watch a DVD on my laptop today on the train-ride home – got the case out & opened it up – some fiend had put the case back but left the DVD in the player! Imagine my annoyance. Well, actually, readers of this blog probably know all about annoyance, as they hopelessly sift through the blather hoping for an occasional interesting word. I'd blather on, but the train seems to be arriving in Tacoma.

A Quiet Weekend

My folks took the older three kids to Lakewood for a couple of days – Kathy and I spent the time with only two little ones. It is very strange, remembering how life was, six or seven years ago when Joshua and Rachel were small. Of course, two children can suck up all your available time and attention just as well as five, except that nap time is a little quieter. After church I spent some time working on the Wilderness Northwest video, and then we went for a walk together in the late afternoon. We had a lovely visit with one of our neighbors; when we refused their invitation to come into the house (we were, after all, enjoying the outside) they all came out & sat on lawn chairs. We sat and talked for almost an hour – I was worried that we might have outstayed our welcome, dropping by unannounced as we did.

These two hardened criminals are frequently featured in the Police Blotter section of local newspapers.

One of the many things I like about living on the Duckabush is that most people have time for each other. Even a group of local teenagers (who could, in all courtesy, have simply made an appearance and then gone back to whatever they were doing) sat outside on the porch with us and talked. Of course, it didn’t hurt that David and Sarah were playing to the crowd, providing substantial entertainment by running around and making strange noises. There was a fierce kitten present, who kept stalking and pouncing on the kids, which was pretty funny. I think the kitten has some self-perception issues – she acts as though she were a 150-pound mountain lion.

Eventually we went home, and I made my rounds in my local garbageman role, gathering trash from a few neighboring homes (to help defray the cost of our dumpster). I wrestled with David and Sarah for a good long time, and somehow no one was injured (possibly a first), although David laughed so hysterically I thought he might faint. There is something very satisfying about the unbridled laugh of a little boy – it warms a very deep part of the soul that doesn’t get much sunlight.

You may have noticed that Sunday's blog entry was written by Kathy – for some reason, it pleases me greatly. I guess it is fun to have her join me in building something that I enjoy and value – “fellow workers in the vineyard” and all that (a quotation from one of our favorite holiday videos, Christmas in Connecticut).

Friday the 13th

It is Friday, the 13th, (well, it was when I wrote this, anyway) and so far nothing particularly unlucky has happened to me, although a pigeon just flew past my table inside the ferry and is now terrorizing nearby passengers with the fear that it may be incontinent. When I worked at the Department of Agriculture, one of my co-workers once suffered from a pigeon’s indiscretion on his bald spot – he was thoroughly disgusted, as I recall. Hopefully this bird can escape through the open doors at the front of the ferry without offending in this manner.

We were delayed leaving the dock by a large Egyptian ship, the Wadi Alrayan, registered out of Alexandria. Carrying in the neighborhood of 700 sea-containers (11 rows, 13 columns, stacked on average 5 high = 715), this squat barge-like vessel wallowed across our watery path in languid insolence. One can only speculate as to what Seattle could be shipping in such quantities to Egypt, if that is indeed the intended destination. At the rate they are currently traveling, I hope it isn’t anything perishable, like, say, coffee?

Today is the last day of Vacation Bible School at the Quilcene Bible Church – the reports I hear from the kids are very positive. Joshua was given a role in the closing program skit, which he invariably enjoys. I hope to get to the church in time to see some part of the program, if the road construction delays are not too severe.

[Roll the clock forward two hours ...]

As it happened, I walked in the door of the church just as Joshua was narrating for his group’s skit – I hope that he saw me standing in the back. He did a great job, and was complimented by a number of people. At the end, he stepped out of his role as narrator and joined those in the skit who were crossing over the bridge from death into life -- he wasn't too cool to physically climb up on the table and walk across, even though he could have avoided it as narrator. I guess he knew which side he wanted to be on -- I was proud of him. Now I’m sitting outside, behind the church, in self-imposed exile with my two youngest (and loudest) children, as the closing program continues in (relative) quiet.

Kathy and I are thinking seriously about moving to a rental house somewhere closer to my work. Whatever the future may hold, it seems that we must plan for the strong possibility that I will not be able to work from home in the near term. Kathy’s friend Julee was here Wednesday and Thursday, singing the praises of Lakewood. We contacted a rental agent and found a few homes that might provide enough room for our horde while not breaking us financially. One possibility is that we might make our existing home available to The Refuge over the course of the next year. Alternatively, we might find an inexpensive smaller home, and live part time in town, part time in the country. I think that both plans have merit – it will largely depend on what we find in terms of available rental properties.

MP3 Player

I bought a cool new MP3 player that has a little camera on it -- this is a picture I took with it:

I admit, I am easily amused by technological toys; it is a characteristic I share with my brother and (I'm afraid) a lot of other men. Let's face it -- most of us never did quite get enough walkie-talkies or remote-control cars or video games. My new Archos MP3 player can take still shots, video, or voice recordings and it even has a little screen (very small, unfortunately) on which you can watch movies. A few weeks ago I loaded "Freaky Friday" onto it and watched it on the bus.

Kathy keeps asking me if I'm getting any use out of it -- have I loaded up my music on it, etc. The truth of the matter is, I get a lot of fun just carrying it around. And no, I haven't loaded up my music on it yet. But I did shoot some footage of driving up 101 (holding the MP3 player up below the rearview mirror). That section of the road is pretty curvy -- driving with one hand on the wheel while taking video didn't improve things much. I'm thinking of speeding it up several times and sneaking it into the next Refuge or Wilderness Northwest video.

Heavenly Color

Driving along 101 this morning, I was nearly blinded by the glory of the early morning sun, reflected in the waters of the Hood Canal. My soul was touched with wonder in the way the light edges the greens of grass and trees and the mountains with gold. No one else was driving past at that time, and I cast only a fleeting glance toward the mountains -- it seems such a shame to let that depth of rich color go unrecorded. And yet God expends such beauty every day in profligate waste. By rights, there should have been bleachers full of people watching that sunrise for an hour or more.

As we pull away from the docks of Bainbridge Island, the hazy bulk of Mount Rainier becomes visible around the end of the coastline, suspended in ghostly majesty at the horizon. How terrible it would be to lose my sight, to no longer enjoy the subtle shadings of greens and blues in the water, sky, and forested shore. Even the works of man, ugly off-white storage tanks and rusty breakwaters cannot mar the stunning beauty of this day.

I am often frustrated by my inability to capture and store up the scenes my eye can see. I remember camping as a child in Kandersteg, Switzerland, and rising early one morning to take snapshots of the alps. I was bitterly disappointed when my pictures came back from the developer -- how bland and colorless they seemed in comparison to the glorious blues and golds I remembered. Although my digital camera performs much better than that ancient children's camera, I frequently feel dissatisfied with the pictures I take, particularly of distant landscapes.

Our ferry had to slow and turn to avoid a small boat that had plotted an intercept course -- finally the boat's captain realized his peril and swerved to avoid us -- a jarring note to the morning. As the Coast Guard patrol boat's hovering presence reminds, we live under the constant threat of terrorist activity. Thoughts of the attack against the USS Cole casts a sobering pall over my enjoyment of the morning light.

What would it be like to enjoy the glorious goodness and beauty of God without the ugly intrusion of man's sin? C.S. Lewis has perhaps described it best, in the final paragraph of The Last Battle:

... but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us, this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.

Spring!

While I hear of snow flurries in other parts of the world, we enjoyed sunshine and temperatures in the upper 60's (I even used the seventy word in one phone call boast). I happened to be out on the road on Saturday, and saw many trees just bursting forth in bloom, several captured here. God sure did a nice job creating this earth, didn't He?

The First Flower of 2004

Spring is almost here! The trees are budding, and the flowers are starting to bloom -- here is the first flower that I have seen growing outside this year. I think it is some kind of a violet -- if you know its actual name, please post a comment.

Censorship

Big Brother is watching!!

And editing these posts--beware all who dare to write.

KME (maybe)

To Blog or Not to Blog

That is the Question. But I don't have the answer. I Blog because I must. You Blog because you are a "bucko." Tonight the blogging is a bit daft but then perhaps this is just a draft and we are all safe from my beginning blogging.

KME

The Muffin

This is, as we call her, the muffin. When you are short, you tend to have to look up a lot.

Time for a haircut

There comes a time in a man's life when he just needs shorter hair. For me, that time comes about once every three weeks, when the shaggy hair on the side of my head starts (ugh!) touching my ears. If this warning sign is ignored, the hair will sometimes even get so long that it actually (shudder!) needs to be combed.

Sad to tell, we've reached such a point here at the green house in the woods. Kathy's been avoiding her duties as hairdresser but I managed to extract a promise from her to cut my hair tonight. Sometimes if I am overly obnoxious about it, I get the kind of haircut that I deserve, but in general she is pretty careful.

Back in 1992, when Kathy and I first moved to Connecticut, I went out for a haircut and was apalled (appalled?) to pay $16 plus $2 for a tip! I was used to paying $3.25 for a military haircut -- these civilian prices seemed excessive. We rushed out to Caldor's (a department store) and purchased our first hair cutting kit. Over the years, we've bought at least 4 replacement kits (it costs nearly as much for a new blade as for a whole new kit) and saved hundreds of dollars on haircuts. Figure $16 x 12 (minimum one a month) x 12 (years of marriage) less $18 x 5 (haircutting kits) -- we've saved $2214 just for me, not counting the kids! (I admit, I had to use the calculator although I started out trying to do it in my head. In kinder days I used to give Kathy $10 for cutting my hair, but now I just take her for granted.

Uh-oh. Tina just called, jeopardizing my whole haircut scheme -- just my luck that they will talk until Kathy is too tired to cut my hair, and I'll have to go another day as shaggy Tim. Life can be hard, sometimes.

Tomorrow I go to see my doctor, to discuss blood pressure, cyatic (ciatic? psyiatic?) nerve trouble, and for a general tuneup. How strange to have my body begin to run down -- I'm noticing little aches and pains and diminishing hearing and vision. What would it have been like to be one of those long-lived guys, like Adam or Methuselah -- would you spend the last 200 years or so as a geezer, or were they hale and hearty up until the last 15 or 20 years?

Serious questions, for serious people. :)

Mount Jupiter

This is the mountain that sits at the end of our valley.

Rainy Day Thoughts

Today was a fairly typical winter day in western Washington -- cool and rainy but not excessively so. I have been feeling vaguely melancholy most of the day -- it doesn't help that I am between projects in my work, reading a rather depressing David Gemmel novel, and lack a wood stove.

Really, when it comes down to it, a wood stove would really solve all my current ills. I can just imagine the cheery flames reflecting from the bright-colored enamel surface, waves of heat filling the great room and driving away the chill and gloom that seems to seep into my very bones.

Sometimes five children can be a real handful -- we notice it particularly around mealtimes, here at the Duckabush Edgren houselhold. Lately Kathy has been doing aerobics with Casey at 5:30 in the evening, and I have tended to work right up to (and sometimes through) dinner time. The kids seem to sense that no one is paying attention to them, and the chaos builds until either Kathy turns off her aerobic tape or I come out from my office to find out why we're seemingly being attacked by a regiment of enraged orangutans.

This is a really good night to settle in early to bed with a good movie. We're thinking of re-watching an old favorite, "The Man Who Knew Too Little" with Bill Murray.