Time to Start Over

It’s time to write again. I’ve tried a couple times to sit and write something meaningful for this blog, but the words (like the gas in my idle lawn-mower) have grown gummy. Maybe I’m trying too hard.

At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, it feels like life started over again this Easter (or Pascha, for you Orthodox out there).

My wife and I broke our fasts (meat, dairy, iPod, etc.). We celebrated by feasting with my wife’s side of the family. My brother-in-law was chrismated and officially entered the Orthodox Church. We stayed up way past bedtimes to celebrate the Resurrection with his new church family and slept it off well into Sunday afternoon.

The Resurrection has never felt so real to me. Honestly, it’s one of the hardest things to believe as a Christian. Right up there with the Trinity, and the fact that God, the Word, became man. But it’s true. I can’t think of any other reason why the disciples and apostles would risk their lives defending it.

The topic of torture has been a prevalent one in our country as of late. What constitutes torture? If we’ve crossed the line, who’s to blame?

In the time of Christ (pre-Geneva Accord), no one was worried about human rights violations. Most, if not all, of the people who appear in the New Testament were persecuted or martyred in one way or another. Why? I’ve often thought, naively, that I could undergo and endure torture for my faith or for my country. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I would crumble if I were whipped or beaten, or had my hair pulled out, or were water boarded.

I’ve often fancied that I would die, but never kill for what I believe, or for my family and friends. I have a romanticized view of men like Desmond Doss who served valiantly in the Army while refusing to bear arms. But the simple truth is that I’m more like a bashful Peter, denying Christ when questioned by, of all people, a little girl. I’m more like a self-serving, duty-dodging Mark Twain than a courageous Thomas Bennett.

I love the religious freedom we enjoy in this country, but I can’t deny that it has made many a weak Christian. It has, in many ways, made Christianity fashionable, or at least harmless and tolerable, if not a little annoying. What a shame! I’d rather be highly offensive in defending the truth, than kind and considerate, but deceived beyond all measure. Granted, many Catholics, Anglicans, Quakers, and others spilled their blood on our soil, but by-and-large they didn’t die defending the truth of the Resurrection or the humanity and divinity of Christ; they died defending their political rights. They are still martyrs, but on a different level.

I’d like to go back and talk to those early Christian martyrs (Paul, Peter, Justin Martyr, or Cecilia) and take a little of their fire back home with me. When brought into the torture room, Jesus didn’t condemn, didn’t try to get out of it (unless you call “not my will, but Thine” an attempt at getting out of it), didn’t even beg his persecutors to stop. He bore it with almost complete silence. May we all bear silently, without grumbling or condemning, the crosses we have to bear, trusting and praying that they will be turned into victories, knowing that “if we die with Him, we will also be raised with Him”.

"Behold, I make all things new." (Revelation 21:5)

Books, Books

I'm a pretty big fan of reading. Ever since I can remember one of my most favorite things to do is to cuddle up with a cup of coffee, tea or a glass of wine and read and read and read. Read until you realize you've been reading for 4 hours straight, though it feels like it's only been an hour. Read until you are so connected, so intertwined with the characters of a book that you feel as if you've known them your whole life. Read until your husband tells you you need to get some more sleep.

I have a habit. Some may call it nasty, others may call it awesome. I need to read before I can go to sleep. It can be for an hour or just 10 minutes. This usually means that I am up much later than my husband. I am naturally a night owl, but this reading habit only exaggerates that. We learned early on in our marriage that the beside lamp needed to be placed on my side of the bed because I would be the one turning it off every night. Now, this habit isn't 100% 7 nights a week. There are times when I am so exhausted that I just fall straight into bed. There are other situations too...but I won't talk about those. Anyways...most of the time, I need to read before I can sleep.

But reading doesn't happen only at bedtime. Joe and I used to have "reading" dates when we were dating. We'd go to a coffee shop or bookstore and spend our time reading. Wait, we still do this for some dates. Mostly because it's cheap and enjoyable for both of us. When I was nursing Azalia I would read to help pass the time (this girl was a s.l.o.w. eater).

I'm positive I get this love, this voracity for reading from my mother (Among other things I inherited from my mother, such as late-night Law and Order and a strong dislike for cleaning). I remember watching her read these long, epic stories and wanting to read them too. My mother had me reading The Client when I was in 4th grade because other books were too easy. Every book she would recommend I would devour. This continues to this day. She and I like to exchange books we've just finished and I frequently will purchase books with her in mind. Almost every time she comes to visit she will tell me about a new book she heard about and wants to read. I love this aspect of our relationship.

All of this leads me to this: Joe and I have made books a permanent category in our budget. We've been really disciplined (well...Joe more than me) about setting a budget each month. One category in that budget is "blow money". So I guess you could say that "books" is a subcategory in the "blow money" category. Either way, we have decided that part our spending money will be spent on books. There are many reasons for this. I'm a collector and one of the things I collect is books. We want our daughter (and future children) to be surrounded with good literature. And we have some pretty awesome built-in bookcases in our living room that need more books to display.

So this is where you come in. Recommend a book to me. Recommend a few. Help us build our library please! I am a fan of fiction, though Joe really loves non-fiction. But I will read just about anything as long as it is quality. Quality, people.

Here is a sampling of our library:


These are some of my favorites....


Some more...


And we can't forget this guy...

"Stay Awake"

I fall asleep on the couch a lot. Usually this happens in the evening under the glare of the laptop blaring out sound effects from episodes of Law and Order or during countless movies and documentaries watched a little too close to bed time. My wife can vouch for all of this. It’s about as predictable as gravity or the laws of thermodynamics (nerd glasses pushed up).

I fell asleep most recently during a documentary on the Dark Ages. I wasn’t particularly bored and didn’t feel that tired. It just crept up on me. I slept on the couch from right around 9:30 p.m. until 1:15 in the morning. Then, we went to bed. This is a bad habit.

As is fairly obvious from my previous entries, I’ve been reading through the Gospels this Lenten season. One of those recent readings was from the Evangelist Mark. It ended with Christ’s haunting admonition, “Stay awake.” (Mark 13:37) Another related reading was the Parable of the ten virgins who, having run out of oil, scramble to find more to light their lamps so they’ll be ready for the bridegroom. Many days I think my lamp has gone out, or is going out. My eyelids are heavy and Christ is near.

I’d like to be found ready, to prepare the lamp of my heart, soul, mind and strength, but I am a cold, empty, wickless vessel. I am more frequently on the couch asleep than in prayer. I’d rather have my ears and eyes tickled than be challenged and convicted. I’d rather indulge and give into bodily desires than discipline my body and “make it my slave” (1 Corinthians 9:27). I’d rather keep my money, time, possessions and food than pour myself out for the least of these.

I think many times I’m content to just resign myself to passive reliance on a sovereign God who will probably make me holy one day. But passivity is absent in the Gospels and in the lives of Christians from the time of Christ until now. Yes, God is sovereign and it is only by His grace that anyone can become like Him, but we must actively cooperate if we’re going to grow and change. The Apostle Paul recommended that we “take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5). A local Pastor I heard speak recently said that “being ‘saved’ is all hooey unless you live for God”.

And here I am again tying everything back to the Prayer of Ephrem the Syrian: O Lord and Master of my life, take from me the spirit of…sloth.

On dreary days like this one, my ardent desire to press on has turned to a tiny panting flame. The freezing northern winds of sin, death and the devil are gathering around me, but I hear the Psalmist’s prayer: “For it is you who light my lamp; the Lord my God lightens my darkness.” (Psalms 18:28)

Now it’s time to start the day and get to work.

It's All In the Timing

I've had baby #2 on my mind for quite some time.

It began when I weaned Azalia (or forced her to continue nursing until I was ready to let go). I remember in the early stages of nursing her that I couldn't wait until she was 6 months old. I told myself I would nurse at least for 6 months. Then, I really began to enjoy it. It was wonderful to sit and bond that way. At family gatherings I looked forward to that alone time I would have with her when she was hungry. I would have that 20-30 minutes before my loving siblings would steal her away from me again. Around 10 or 11 months it became increasingly difficult to get her to sit for a nursing session. She ate well...but was more interested in discovering the world around her now that she was mobile. So at 13 months I gave her her last feeding from Mama and she hasn't looked back since.

Immediately after she weaned I started thinking about baby #2. Joe was not ready for that. So we thought about it and prayed about it. And I asked him every night, "So...when do you want to try for little Michaiah?" (Michaiah is what we would like to name our son...Lord willing, if we have a son) Needless to say, me bringing it up every night was a bit much for him. We set a tenative "let's start trying in May" date, since that would be around our 3rd wedding anniversary. Now with May around the corner, I'm becoming hesitant again. I keep thinking of all these things I want to do that pregnancy would hinder. But when I start thinking like that I begin to feel guilty. I tell myself that I'm being selfish. Then I look at our beautiful daughter and am reminded of how blessed we are to be her parents. And I see how she would benefit from a little sibling to boss around (and love, of course).

I feel that this whole process is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Baby #1 was not planned, as many of you know. When we found out we were pregnant my mothering instincts kicked into high gear (with help from my hormones) and we started preparing for her arrival. It was difficult along the way, simply because we had been married for only, oh, 9 months. I felt like I was just getting a grip on how to be a wife. Then I had to throw being a mother in the mix! I shed my share of tears and worries, but we were able to get through it.

Now that we are, in a sense, getting to choose when this 2nd baby will come it seems so hard! What if it's too soon? What if it's too late? What if we can't get pregnant right away? Even though I know when my fertile days are (thanks Natural Family Planning!) won't that just zap the romance out of making love and turn it into an obligation? I know that most of these worries are just that...worries. And I know that no matter how much I plot and plan, ultimately, this is in God's hands. So baby #2, come when you want...we are waiting for you.

Fabric!

I just entered a giveaway on this blog: http://mandmstudio.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-fabric-in-shop-giveaway.html?showComment=1237492020000#c4348318020784361013 for 4 yards of beautiful fabric. That's right, 4 yards! You can enter too!

FREEDOM OF SPEECH AND IDLE TALK

While musing on the atrocity of CCTV that was used to crack the case in a recent Law and Order UK episode, someone made the following observation:

“Even though it gets abused quite a bit, I’m glad we live in a country that actually values freedom of speech and freedom of the press.” (source: me)

The same blabbermouth mentioned in passing the outrage that is the so-called Patriot Act and how things of this nature seem to be more indicative of communist countries than those that claim to fight for individual liberty and democracy.

My wife hates to talk about politics. If I want to kill a conversation all I have to do is mention the difference between a modern liberal and a traditional liberal (or put on a Rod Stewart record). Anyway, I’m becoming more conversant in things political but still would not consider myself an expert. This, however, has not stopped me from writing blog after blog on the subject. I’ve also written, feigning scholarship, on such issues as art, evolution, global warming, and same-sex marriage. As time goes on, the list lengthens. I’m not sure where this drive comes from. Is it that I can’t stand to have a thought that isn’t made public knowledge? I generally consider myself an introvert. Is it that I think I’m an entertaining, or at least stimulating writer? This discussion itself is probably generating its own share of yawns—at least for those who are still reading. Is it the desire to impress all my friends, acquaintances and total strangers with my views on such a broad spectrum of topics? Probably. But, then, I will from time to time write these self-deprecating, critical blogs to give myself the appearance of humility.

Last time I wrote about confession and sin. Well, here’s one disordered passion I’d like to put a bridle on. I ended last time with a prayer that contained the phrase “take from me the spirit of…idle talk”. It is this spirit within me that fuels heated discussions (almost always via internet) on all the topics I just mentioned.

A really intriguing article I just read/listened to entitled “Liberation by Internet” (http://mises.org/story/3060#_ftnref) gave some staggering statistics on internet use:

In 1997, about 96 million people used the Internet; by 2002, the number had grown to about 650 million. On December 30, 2007, the Internet had an estimated 1.319 billion users [...] Over 30 years, [from 1972 to 2002], the cost of sending 1 trillion bits of information has dropped from $150,000 to 17 cents.

The article is almost completely unrelated to the idea of idle talk but has a lot of great observations about individual liberty, internet and freedom of speech. We now have access to online books, blogs for every interest, music, movies, television shows, games, and shameless entertainment at our fingertips. And we like it. Not only do we like it. We like it so much, that we feel the need to contribute to the cacophony of sound by raising our own voices as well.

We raise a song of praise for those books, blogs, musicians, movies, sitcoms (ad naseum) that we like best. Well, today I’m raising mine to commend something else: silence. . .er, at least a little more silence. By the grace of God, I’d like to be a quieter person; to listen better and talk more relevantly than I do. I’ve heard someone call it “the economy of words”. Even in this blog I have probably wasted words. This should be a bigger deal to me since, as a Christian, I believe that everyone will give an account to God “for every careless word they speak (Matt. 12:36)”.

So, now I end this rant with a sobering passage from the book of James that I think is more relevant than anything else I could say on the subject:

For we all stumble in many ways. And if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body. If we put bits into the mouths of horses so that they obey us, we guide their whole bodies as well. Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things.

How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by Gehenna. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and salt water? Can a fig tree, my brothers, bear olives, or a grapevine produce figs? Neither can a salt pond yield fresh water. (James 3:2-12)

Oh How I Wish You'd Stay Small

It's the little things. The tiny hands, the growing teeth, the sweet little ponytail on top of her head. It's the quiet moments when she's discovering new things. It's when she holds her baby doll close and hugs her tight. It's moments like these when I want to stop time, want to make her this small, this innocent forever.



I am amazed more and more as she continues to grow. She slays me when she snuggles into my chest and wants to hug. It's then when I wonder, "How can I nurture this love, this innocent love...so free of the pains of this world?" Some days, I worry about how she will be affected by the ugliness of this world. I want to protect her little eyes and ears from the assaults society toss at women. I want her to know that she doesn't have to look like the women on magazine covers. She is beautiful. She is special.

Joe and I pray for our daughter (and future children, Lord willing) every night. We've begun using a prayer at the end of a book called "On the Upbringing of Children" by Bishop Irenauis. It is beautiful. Whenever I start to worry about what will happen to my daughter as she grows up in this world, I remember this prayer. I'll include a little bit here:

"O Greatly-Merciful Lord, Who givest food to the birds of the sky and to all living things on the earth, Who watchest over the flower that sprouts amidst the rocky cliffs; nourish, bring up, and protect well our children also. Help us, O Lord, to plan in their souls what is good and useful for the Holy Church and the nation, and what is well-pleasing to Thee, that Thy Holy name may be exalted through them. Fill them, O Lord, with the enlightened wisdom and holy understanding which come down from Thee. Protect them from all the snares of enemies both visible and invisible. Command Thine Angels as always to be their enlightened guides and counselors in all good works. We pray Thee, O Lord, to open their minds, that they may know Thee as much as possible."

Amen.