Teleportation

I hate to nag Darren. In general, he's a great husband and he really gets things done. But I've mentioned one matter to him many times, and he still hasn't done a blessed thing about it.

Darren's reading over my shoulder. He said, "Oh, the teleporter."

Yes, the teleporter! This weekend we're joining the rest of the Joneses (our particular bloodline, that is, not all Joneses in general) in Maine for a family time. I love his family. I'm sure I'll like Maine. The only problem is that it's going to take us 14 hours in the van to get the benefit of either one.

If Darren would just get that teleporter up and running, we could just flip a switch, pull a lever, or mash a button (for all you Yanks) and ZAP! We'd be there, rested and happy and ready to visit. I think you can see why this is a difficult matter for a wife to lay aside.

Besides the serious lack of proper technology, we're looking forward to the visit, especially seeing all the kids together. We'll be back online sometime next week.

-- SJ, looking forward to living zappily ever after.

Tertullian, Cyprian, and Origen on Prayer

Well, I finished the book on the Lord's Prayer this morning. I was right in my prediction. Tertullian (a lawyer and lay catechist (basically a Sunday School teacher)) was very practical and orderly. He went through the prayer line by line (new Christians in his day weren't taught the Lord's Prayer until just before their baptism, after up to three years of instruction in the Faith), and he had all sorts of practical instructions, such as correct attitudes in prayer: "The intent of prayer should be free not from anger alone but from all manner of perturbation of the soul." He suggests that before we take a bath or eat food, we should pray. I've grown up praying before I eat, but before my morning shower? That's not one I'd thought of. "For the refreshment and sustenance of the spirit should take precedence over those of the flesh, because heavenly things have priority over earthly."

Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, also had good advice. Like Tertullian, his book was aimed at new Christians. He starts off by talking about coming to prayer with a reverent and humble spirit. "We should be mindful of reverence and order, not forever tossing ill-judged phrases into the air, nor seeking to commend our requests by bombarding God with a tumultuous verbosity, because God is a hearer not of the voice but of the heart." I think my favourite quote from Cyprian was this one: "So great is the mercy of the Lord, so abundant his condescension and goodness, that he desired that we should make our prayer in this manner in the sight of God, that we should address the Lord as "Father," and that we should be considered sons of God, as Christ is the son of God. None of us would have dared use this name in prayer except that he has authorized us to pray after this manner. We should remember therefore, dearest brothers, and realize that when we address God as our Father we should act as children of God, so that just as we have pleasure in having God as our Father, so he should have pleasure in us."

And then we hit Origen, the mystic and allegorical interpreter. Some of his book was very good, such as this: "The one who prays should lift up holy hands by forgiving anyone who has done him wrong, banishing the passion of anger from his soul, bearing antagonism to no one. And, so that his mind not be disturbed by extraneous thoughts, at the time of prayer he should forget everything apart from prayer. Is this not a state of supreme blessedness!" His discussion of "Let Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven" is excellent. "When the will of God as it is in heaven is upheld by us who are on the earth then we shall be made like those who are in heaven, bearing, like them, the image of the heavenly one (I Cor. 15:41), inheriting the Kingdom of the heavens while those who follow us on earth pray that they may in turn become like us who are in heaven."

But I think my main problem with Origen is summed up by his introduction to "Give us this day our daily bread." In response to those (like Tertullian and Cyprian) who believe that this is at least partly a request for physical needs, "we should say to them: How is it that the one who says that we should make our request with regard to heavenly and great matters now demands that we should offer request with regard to something earthly and petty, as though he had forgotten what he had taught with regard to such matters?" I would disagree with Origen on this; I think this is a reminder that God does not make a distinction between matter and spirit, but views them both as good.

Two odd things about the book, both of which I know intellectually but are still a little jolting when I come across them. First, none of the three write on the last phrase, "For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever and ever," because it hadn't been added to the Prayer yet. Second, all three frequently quote the deuterocanonical books and give them the same authority as other Old Testament scriptures.

I'd recommend the book highly.

Dry Land

My family runs a restaurant down in Lucedale, Mississippi. (You may not have heard of my hometown, but you've probably met somebody who has a relative there. Last month I was standing in a cafe line at the Memphis airport and struck up a conversation with an older lady who lived in the Midwest and was going to Arizona. Turns out that her stepmother was the organist at the Lucedale United Methodist Church for years. But to continue...) One of the menu items at the restaurant is bread pudding with "Bourbon Street Sauce." The name makes everyone laugh.

It's ostensibly named for Bourbon Street, a famous street (in an infamous sort of way) in New Orleans. The chef who created the sauce is from New Orleans, so it's fitting. Only thing is, it's been edited from its original title. It used to be simply "Bourbon Sauce."

You can't have bourbon sauce in Lucedale, Mississippi. Not that it's not respectable; it's just that it skirts a little too close to lawlessness. George County is a dry county, which means that the sale and possession of alcohol is prohibited. Yes, enlightened urbanites, such places still exist. I grew up Southern Baptist in a dry county, which is why I still get a rush when I drink communion wine.

Bread pudding with Bourbon Street Sauce is a popular item. But they don't give out the recipe. It's a family secret.

-- SJ

Another Early Morning Haiku

Cozy in the bed,
Turning over to snuggle.
Hey, wait, where's husband?

Darren and I will be in trouble if the Rapture occurs too early in the morning. -- SJ

Early Morning Haiku

Cresting the mountain
Rose, yellow, and dusky blue.
Behind me, still dark.

I am not a morning person. Blah to early mornings!

--DJ

Disturbance in Local Grocery Store

by S.L. Jones

NORTHERN VIRGINIA -- A makeshift grocery store, located in the home of Darren and Sara Jones, was the scene of what authorities are referring to as a "domestic disturbance" yesterday.

"There was screaming, there were forcible attempts to remove groceries from the cart, and it had to be resolved by an outside party," said Police Chief Dares Ca'Ste. "It wasn't a pleasant twenty minutes."

Reports indicate that a patron of the grocery store, identified only by the initials AMJ, was putting assorted groceries in a little pink stroller which had been designated as "the cart," when another patron, SMJ, approached her and, in the words of the store manager, "touched the stroller."

AMJ objected to the contact. Her lawyer, D. August Jones, explains, "She saw it as a direct infringment on her right to personal space." AMJ herself expressed it as, "Nooooo! Miiiinnne!"

SMJ, offended by her reaction, responded by wedging himself between AMJ and the stroller. The store manager, Sares McSte, was forced to intervene and separate the patrons.

"Obviously it was SMJ who took the cart," she admitted, "but it was AMJ who was recommended for counseling." Therapist Aras Senoj met with AMJ to discuss possible resolutions to the argument. "I explained that she should share, and that the other patron was only trying to help." The therapy sessions were inconclusive, as AMJ ran out of the room in tears.

"It's not a happy ending," admitted manager McSte, "but at least we dealt with it." She added that SMJ took advantage of AMJ's absence by doing some grocery shopping.

Hitches and Glitches

Blogspot is being uncooperative today. If you've just had to wade through three identical posts, it isn't because I thought it was such a brilliant point as needed to be repeated in rapid succession. It's Blogspot's fault. And if you read only this post, and don't see any repeated posts... well, that's Blogspot's fault, too. And so is world hunger and my bad hair day. -- SJ

* Evidently Blogspot is feeling better since I wrote this last night, but since I can't think of anything else to post in the meantime, this one remains.

Laughing at Our Gods

I have a blog, therefore I rant.

I was in Wal-Mart the other day and glanced over the tabloids, as usual. I'm thinking I probably shouldn't read the covers so eagerly, that it's probably indicative of a greed for gossip, but that's still mulling. Anyway, I saw a feature that made me want to scream.

But there's a backstory to why it irritated me so much. About a year ago, while reading the headlines, I saw one with several photos of celebrities with the gleeful announcement, "Morning shots of cebs! No coffee, no makeup!" And I thought, "How malicious is this, that they can't appear perfectly human, albeit less attractive than usual, without making news?"

So then, yesterday, I again saw several photos, this one rear-view shots of women in bathing suits, with the exclamation above them, "Stars with cellulite!" And each picture (each person clearly identified, of course) had a red arrow pointing to lumpy thighs.

Hence, the desire to scream. Why do we take pleasure in the fact that "stars" -- whose status stems from the fact that they happen to be what we think is beautiful and get paid a lot for it -- have normal, aging, imperfect human bodies? Of course the answer is obvious, but I'll write it out anyway. In a godless culture, we create our own gods, made in the image of what we prize most. And then, to prove that they have no power over us, we set them up in the public marketplace and laugh at them. How mighty is the human race. -- SJ

A Few of Stuart's Favorite Things

Favorite stuffed friend: Fuzzy pink bear, not so fuzzy since he began walking around with it hanging out of his mouth.

Favorite song from a CD: Lollipop
"A-pop!" "A-pop!"
"Do you want me to put on Lollipop?"
"Yah."

Favorite color: Blue
"Stuart, what color is this?"
"Boo."
"No, it's red. What color is this?"
"Boo."
"No, this is yellow. What color is this?"
"Boo."
"Yes! Very good!"

Favorite person: Run-off between Daddy and Addie. Mama, well, she's like air. You really need her, but when she's there you don't exactly notice her.

This post brought to you by the soundtrack to "Stand By Me," which is set to play Lollipop seven times in a row.

-- SJ (both of them)

There Once Was a Seed

For the past year, I've enjoyed a communion with God unlike any I've experienced for years. I can trace this new phase back to when we became involved in our new church. So I'm here now to direct everyone else into this church so they can find the same fulfillment that I have.

If you don't recognize that conclusion as typical of the human race, then you need to get out more often. We always see and praise the flower, but often forget what took place before a bloom, a leaf, a stem, a tiny little shoot ever broke the ground.

Yes, my church has and continues to usher me into the presence of God unlike any other I've experienced. But then I remembered how the earth was tilled, and the seeds planted, long ago. It was in my childhood at a run-of-the-mill Southern Baptist church that I learned the truth of the gospel. It was during my teenage years as I struggled to keep myself righteous by my own effort that I learned how futile the effort was. It was my marriage to a man with a love of history and rather off-the-path opinions that opened my eyes to the greatness of my Christian heritage. All these things worked to bring me to the point where I was ready for the ministry of my church. Without a seed in the past, I cannot enjoy a blossom in the present. -- SJ

A Reality Show With (Some) Class

I've never actually watched a reality show. Partly, this lack is due to a general distaste -- if not for the genre, then the situations themselves. Mostly, it's due to the fact that we don't have T.V. hookup because Darren and I are both vidiots who will watch whatever is placed before us.

But we do have a VCR, and recently Darren brought home an interesting experiement in reality T.V. It's British, which means it's quirky with about a 60% chance of being really funny. It's a six-hour video series called "Manor House."

The simple idea of the show is that a group of modern-day Brits are taken to a restored manor house of breathtaking proportions (almost as grand as Rosings) for three months. Some of them become maids, some become footmen, one is a housekeeper, one is a butler, one is a tutor. There's a French chef, too. They run the house for an ordinary British family of four (plus a sister) who have been transformed into wealthy Edwardian nobility.

For three months, they have to live in their roles as if it really is the early 20th century, and they really do live and work in that house. Their clothes are authentic (the women have to work in those long, bulky skirts, and the men wear those ridiculous vests and cravats). The plumbing is authentic, too. There are "water closets," but they cannot be used at night. Imagine having to use a chamberpot as if it's a normal fixture of life. Each of the participants -- including the wealthy homeowners -- have a small, thick handbook of "rules" to guide them in their new positions (and evidently these rulebooks aren't a modern-day invention, either).

We've watched the first hour, which focuses mainly on the "downstairs" world of maids and butlers. I tell you what, it takes some of the romance out of bygone days to see the gritty work and long days those people endured. The scullery maid in this episode lasted only two days.

The second hour is on the docket for tonight, and I guess we'll get a glimpse of what life was like "upstairs." None of it looks very appealing. Well, except the hats and those long, slim dresses. Except that we saw Lady Oliff-Cooper being laced into a corset before putting on her dress, which seriously taints the charm.

Being British, there are several eccentric shots in documentary style. We got to see one of the footmen in all his (backside) glory, and the camera loves to linger on those ominous (empty) chamberpots in their little cabinets. The finished product is very interesting and enlightening. It makes you glad that we live in the time that we do, even if we have to do our own laundry. -- SJ

Book list for the year

This year, I've been keeping track of the books I've read, whether for school or pleasure (mostly the latter). As of today, I'm up to 121 completed, and 20 others that I've read some of.

Sara says that's disgusting. I think it's a good start.

And I'm starting another one tonight. It's a book on the Lord's Prayer - actually three books, all by early Church Fathers (Cyprian, Tertullian, and Origen). It's put out by St. Vladimir's Press as part of their "Popular Patristic" series, and I'm looking forward to it. Or at least, Cyprian and Tertullian. Origen is usually too mystical for me.

Sara says that she finished reading Dave Barry's column in the paper yesterday.

--DJ

From Soap Opera to Space Opera

As promised, here's the way you discover your Star Wars name. It's even more useful than your soap opera name. You can use it next time you register for an online quiz that demands to know who you are.

FIRST NAME:
Take the first three letters of your first name: SAR
Take the last two letters of your last name: ES

LAST NAME:
Take the first two letters of your mother's maiden name: MC
Take the first three letters of your town of current residence: STE

Which makes me: Sares McSte (Thanks to my mom's ancestry, my name always comes out Scottish.)

Before I married, I was Sarts McLuc. Paired with Dana Robinson (which I usually was back then), we sounded like a space-age detective agency: Sarts & Danon, Private Investigators.

So go out and be spacey! Today's blog is brought to you by:
Dares Ca'Ste
Sares McSte
Adees Roste
Stu'es Roste

-- SJ

P.S. What do you mean, you never take online quizzes?

New Arrival

My brother and sister-in-law, Neil and Christy, had their third little girl yesterday. Her name is Claire, with the middle name undecided at last report. That brings the Roberts/McAdory grandchild tally up to nine: Courtney, Katie, Garrett, Maegan, Emma, Addie, Stuart, Camie, and Claire. (I like the way they look all listed out.)

My mom hadn't had a chance to see her when she talked to me yesterday, but from all reports Neil and Christy intend to keep Claire for a while so Mam should have time to get acquainted. -- SJ

World Trade

A few months ago, I saw this article in our local paper, about a local orchard owner uprooting his apple orchard because he couldn't make a profit due to cheaper apples from China being imported. As a fairly conservative capitalist, I'm generally in favor of world-wide free trade, even with repressive Communist regimes. However, I had driven past this particular orchard on a regular basis for years, and it was (and is) a shock every time I see the stacks of dead trees piled in the middle of what used to be a beautiful orchard.

In addition, there used to be a sign out at the front of the orchard every fall: "Migrant Parking/Housing In Here." The sign is no longer there this year, making me wonder how many people this has affected.

Saving money is good, but I often don't consider the difference between cost and price. Is saving a few cents on apples worth missing the gorgeous sight of apple blossoms on my way to work in the spring?

--DJ

How to Conquer Legalism

At the end of last year, I was talking to my friend Jessica, who has given me a fresh perspective ever since we roomed together as HSLDA interns years ago. She wondered, "Can you be a legalist even if you don't 'do' all the things everyone else does?" And I agreed that a sin that Jesus addressed so strongly would probably be more subtle and universal than we commonly recognize.

Several months later, Darren and I prepared to observe with our church the traditional time of Lent (we're weird that way, Amy ) During Lent, you traditionally give up desserts and a couple of other things, in order to remind you of Christ's sacrifice, and use the time for penitence and reflection. It was after I stockpiled on fruit -- dried, canned, and fresh -- and carefully distinguished between what was a "dessert" and what was just "sweet," that I realized what I was doing. I wanted to keep the form of Lent by doing everything right, but I didn't want to deprive myself too much in actuality.

Two or three other incidents during this time reinforced what God was showing me. I was more concerned with doing something "right" rather than opening my heart let Him work in me through it. I kept the letter of the law, but not the spirit. I was still a legalist.

And the more I knew my own heart, the more I realized how much I am characterized by fear. I was afraid of making a mis-step, thereby missing God's blessing (a legalist's god is very petty) or bringing down His punishment (a legalist's god is very vengeful.) And I couldn't look on others' difficulties with compassion, for fear that the same thing might happen to me; instead, I had to find out what they'd done wrong, and assure myself that I was doing it right.

It's a miserable existence, legalism, but it's attractive because it promises security, albeit a false one. However, the Christian life isn't about doing everything right. It isn't even about understanding God's purpose for everything that happens. It's about knowing God, and allowing His Spirit to make us more like Christ. For me, that meant daring to trust that He is good, and daring to believe that He considers me worthy and lovely despite my failure to live up even to my own standards, much less His.

A person can live by strict standards of conduct, dress, food, drink, and entertainment, and not be legalistic about it. (I'm very wary of declaring that God can't lead someone to live in a way that I wouldn't enjoy myself.) And someone do anything he wants as a matter of liberty, and still judge others and himself by his own efforts. It isn't the outward appearance that God sees; it's the heart.

I titled this "How to Conquer Legalism," because that's how rule-keepers like things: show me how *I* can do it. The fact is, I haven't conquered the legalism in my heart. I still have to watch for snares as I walk through life. But as for ripping out the shackles that chained me for so long, I haven't done a thing except respond as God has done the work. I'm not conquering so much as being rescued. And I've truly learned what a legalist is always doubtful of: God really is good.

-- SJ

Early 21st Century Thoughts on Early 20th Century Culture

This is really a continuation of the post below, but I decided to break it up because the post was getting too long. We aim to keep this blog efficient, breezy, and racy. Racing, I mean. Like, quick.

"It Happened One Night" can't ever be a remake. Society has changed too much to translate it into modern terms. Most of that change I realized with disappointment. It's too bad you can't sell as "realistic" the idea that a man and woman guard their purity so carefully. It's fun when Gable rescues Colbert from an oozey seatmate by claiming to be her husband, which sends the sleaze into a state of quivering apology. And "The Wall of Jericho" doesn't come down until the first marriage is annulled. Yeah, we're seeing Meg Ryan all over the place here.

But there have been some changes for the better. I think what most caught my attention was how roughly Gable spoke to Colbert. He said he'd "sock her" or "wring her neck," and the like. I guess it was supposed to be his "hard-bitten" character, but I kept thinking that I wouldn't want a husband who would speak to me like that. Maybe I've not seen enough modern romantic comedies (a deliberate omission), but I don't recall the heroines being berated in such manner. It was very jarring to my 2000's sensitivities; I didn't find it funny at all.

Darren was annoyed with the whole "Get married on a whim and get it annulled and meanwhile take up with another guy and marry him before the annullment comes through" plot. But hey, if Britney can do it...

I guess these posts should be titled, "Far More Than You Ever Wanted To Know About It Happened One Night." So, to finish this subject forever, I'll leave you with one last valuable fact: When Clark Gable took off his shirt in the bedroom scene and revealed a bare chest, undershirt sales plummeted.

-- SJ

When Everything Was Black and White

Sarah's reminiscence of the old black-and-white movies made me smile. In my teen years, I knew a lot more about stars from the '30s and '40s than the ones from the '80s and 90's. (I still don't always recognize Brad Pitt or Ben Affleck, but I have definitive opinions on Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart.)

Darren brought home the 1930-something Oscar darling "It Happened One Night" (also Frank Capra, Sarah). This is probably the great-grandmother of romantic comedies: the clashing personalities, miscommunication, falling-in-love-despite-themselves plot, but without today's sleaze. Well, without any *specifically-stated* sleaze. (I really admire these old movies for their creativity in getting around the censor block.)

A young heiress (Claudette Colbert, whose makeup was, I suppose, fashionable even if it does look plastic) has married mostly to spite her father, so he confines her to his yacht until she agrees to have the marriage annulled -- divorce, of course, not being an option for a good girl in the 30's. She escapes (don't ask how; it's a serious plothole that they didn't bother refining) and heads to New York, where her mercenary husband-only-in-name will take her in.

On the way she meets Clark Gable, drunkish reporter who sees a big story and takes it upon himself to get her to New York. The big sizzle comes when they have to share a room for the night. Colbert thinks he's lured her into a room to seduce her so Gable teases her by undressing: shoes, socks, coat, shirt. He gets to his pants, and she lunges behind the sheet he's strung up between the two beds. He assures her it's the "Wall of Jericho," and she's safe because he doesn't have a trumpet. In the 30's, when a star like Gable makes a promise like that, you know everything's going to be all right.

So they proceed to New York, get nearly there, have the Big Miscommunication scene, so she rushes on and nearly marries her current husband in a big church wedding, but everything of course gets worked out in time. Claudette Colbert predated Julia Roberts's scramble from the altar by decades.

It has a happy, sort-of-racy ending (considering the times), but does raise the question of how many beds they occupy during their wedding night.

So, anyway, to observe the constancy of American entertainment, watch "It Happened One Night." -- SJ

Hi, My Name is Sara, and I'm a Legalist...

A few thoughts I had last night while trying to fall asleep.

"Legalism" is a dirty word among conservative Christian circles. Either we suspect others of being so, or have been accused of it ourselves. I'm speaking from extensive personal, um, research here.

The most common understanding of legalism is that someone is trying to earn his own salvation by the good that he does. I don't think there are many in our cCc who actually operate on this definition. But another aspect of legalism is that a person lives by a certain system or rule. He uses it to judge how much God approves of him, and how much God does not approve of others who don't live the same way.

I once had a tidy system of rules to live by. Not only could I measure where I was in God's ladder of success, but I could tell at a glance, or at most a half-hour acquaintance, where everyone else stood. This mindset produced in me an unpalatable mixture of self-condemnation and self-righteousness. My prayer journal from those days is almost unreadable. I never kept all my "rules," so I never gained God's full approval; but there were so many others who fell so far below me that I could look on them with disdain and pity. God might not like me much, but He at least He could tolerate me more than He could *them.*

What I did have during those years, buried under my pride and despair, was a sincere desire to do what God wanted me to do. Gradually, through the years, He grew me out of my system, showed me how hollow my by-the-rule righteousness was, and began revealing His liberty to me.

Two remarks helped shift this mindset -- I got them from two sisters, in fact. One was from my friend Geni, who defined a conviction as "Something I'd go to jail for." Run your next decision through that grid. It tends to filter out the smaller issues.

The other was from our friend Cory, Geni's sister, during a conversation with Darren. Cory remarked that some discussion in their house "wasn't a hill I want to die on." I liked that so much I posted it on my bulletin board above the computer: "Is it a hill I want to die on? Focus on the essentials."

So I finally understood the world of Christian liberty. I was a recovered legalist.

And then I learned some more.

I realized that wearing, watching, listening to, and doing whatever I wanted in Christ didn't make me "not a legalist." I can have all the appearance of liberty, but still be bound by spiritual and emotional chains. How? Because of what a true legalist always overlooks:

It doesn't matter what I do. It matters what's in my heart.

More to come.

--SJ

Our Soap Opera Cast...

Welcome to Bev Jones, my own wonderful mother-in-law, who has just entered the world of blogging: Marie Lake. You confused both of us, though, because we expected you to use "Killarney" as your last name. On our soap opera, she'd be the matriarch of the entire disfunctional and scheming clan.

Michael and Rose Focht -- exactly which one posted in indeterminate, seeing as Rose is the prolific one but it's Michael's middle name. Then again, I guess circumstances called for it, since Rose's middle name is already in use: Lawrence Ivy-Mill. The Ivy-Mills would be the token happily-married couple in our soap-opera world. They would suffer great tragedy, of course, when he crashes in a remote jungle, loses his memory, and returns just before his grief-stricken wife is being forced into a marriage with a cad.

Olivia Johnson, way out in California, where all the glamorous stars live: Janelle Tuolome. (California seems to have strange street names, which allows for particularly effective soap opera identities.) Janelle is a young heiress who harbors a dark secret that could ruin her chances of happiness.

Then came Elizabeth White/ Elizabeth Stevens/ Elizabeth South-Church: Sarah Mehrens. Obviously one of those characters who can't be trusted. And not even she can keep up with all the identities her husband has assumed! Definitely a couple to drive the plot along.

What an amusing exercise in futility! Coming up next: How to find your Star Wars name...

-- SJ (as if there was any question)

A good commentary

For my Bible reading the last few weeks, I've been using the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, available at http://www.gospelcom.net/ivpress/accs/ . It has the text from the Bible, usually about 10 verses, and then several pages of short quotes about that passage from some of the Church fathers - Augustine, Basil, Tertullian, etc. I'd highly recommend it, especially for pastors.

Random notes from my reading in I Corinthians:

1) It has struck me once again how important St. Paul considered unity to be.

2) Chapter 13, on love, is a good reminder of what Jesus expects from us as His children. -- DJ

From Soap Opera to Game Show

Here's what you do. You click on the "comments" link at the end of this post and leave your soap opera name. And then the Joneses try to figure out who you are. An extra hint or two is okay, also. :)

So far I've heard from my newly-married, friend-since-sixth-grade Michele Columbus (only the spelling of Michele would have clued me in, except that it was included in an email that said, "So, now I get all my news of you from your blog?"), and our godson's family, the Donavans (which is *so* soap-opera that it has me laughing still).

Participants get the grand prize of being mentioned on the blog. Just call me World Magazine. :) -- SJ (or LB-B)

Book recommendation

I just finished reading In Enemy Hands, the 7th book in David Weber's Honor Harrington series. For those who like good adventuresome military sci-fi, this is one of the best series going. In fact, I'd recommend most of Weber's works - for adult readers, anyway; I think some of them are a bit too heavy for young adult. You can get a sample of his books by going to www.baen.com/library and downloading some of his books for free. Also, his latest one, Wind Rider's Oath, has a CD that accompanies it with over 20 free books - an awesome deal. -- DJ

Good article on Christian worldviews

I found this article on a contemporary Christian website. I liked it because the author pointed out how many American Christians tend to confuse their nationalism and politics with their religion. As Father Neuhaus pointed out in the latest issue of First Things, putting country first on a list of priorities, ahead of God, has a name: idolatry.
-- DJ

Brand-New Age-Old Joys

Yesterday, Addie discovered the joy of dirt. She spent probably the total of an hour with my plastic garden trowel, digging. If she got too dirty, there was always Stuart nearby -- he played with the hose, a game he created all himself. It's a fascinating pastime called, "Fill up this container and dump it out, and then fill up this other container and dump it out, and fill up this container..." Darren says Stuart has a David And The Bethlehem Water Complex.

It's fun watching the kids enjoy a world that I don't notice so much anymore. Little bugs with leaf-shaped wings, dropping rocks into storm drains, dandelions (any flower that Stuart picks, he blows), and the ever-interesting phenomenon of the sun going behind a cloud. "Got dark! Now it's light again! Got dark!" This morning Addie and I got to watch a couple of rabbits in the front yard.

It's such a cliche to say that kids remind you of the wonder of God's creation. But the reason there are cliches is because people keep finding out the same little truths over and over. -- SJ

What's in a name? II

I'm something of a name fanatic. If we had enough children to use all the names I've considered, you could line them up end-to-end and they'd stretch for half a mile. Of course, I'd also have CPS on my case for having my numerous children lie down and block traffic, which proves that decisions like this require wisdom and due consideration.

When I was younger, 15 or so, I liked the name Chantilly. (I'm not sure I ever confessed this to Darren.) Then I decided to go Biblical, and announced that I'd name twins (boy and girl) Jubal and Jubilee. My friend Lissa still howls over that one, although I was perfectly serious. The names might still be on my list if Darren didn't have a hang-up about alliteration.

But my quest for the unique is nothing compared to some of the names that appear in my hometown newspaper. Of the names of note are Tenleigh, Braronica, Colton Steede, and Raven (who is blond-haired and blue eyed). My very favorite one, though, is Vanity. I assume they call her Vanna. She could even have a life verse: "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity!"

(This is a dangerous post, because I do have a few hometown buddies who have this blog address, and I might just be referring to a cousin of theirs. That's always an occupational hazard when dealing with small-town affairs.)

A website I really enjoy is behindthename.com, which includes a feature that will graph the popularity of a name from 1900 to 2003. Some interesting results are names like Madison, Kayla, and McKensie; or unisex names like Dana, Leslie, and Ashley; or classics like Mary.

And for a parting useful tidbit, do you know how to create your soap opera name? Take your middle name and the street you live on. I used to be Lynn West. Now I'm Lynn Button-Bush. Darren is August Bush. Try it -- you might discover an entirely new identity! -- SJ

Worldly winnings

A few weeks ago, Darren brought me home a photocopy of a page from World Magazine announcing a writing contest. In an attempt to encourage "writers who are Christian," as distinguished from "Christian writers," World is opening up a competition for short fiction stories from a Christian worldview, but not necessarily "Christian stories." I think it's a great idea in principle, because I don't believe Christians can change culture unless they're involved in it. I'll think it's an even better idea if I win the contest.

These stories have to be seriously short -- no more than 1500 words. I have to cut and shave to get mine that short. (Darren the Laconic pulled out one from high school and submitted it as is.) But I got all excited about the idea, and in the days since he brought home the announcement, I've written -- let me count up -- five different stories, all 1500 words or less. Only the fifth one, written yesterday, is one I consider actually good. I actually don't expect to win this contest (pessimists don't waste energy on expectaions like that), but at least it's gotten me to write.

If you're interested in the contest, visit worldmag.com and click on the contest box on the left sidebar for full details. The deadline is the end of this month. If you absolutely can't come up with a story, let me know, and I'll give you one of my rejects for a small fee. -- SJ

A new phase of fun

We took the kids to a county fair on Thursday evening. The kids rode the carousel (twice), a huge slide (twice), and a little car that went around and around (with just the two of them in the car). Stuart giggled through almost the entire car ride, and Addie steered like a 16-year-old boy in his father's Jag.

We didn't ride any rides ourselves. Our fair-going is much different these days. But back then we didn't know how much fun it is to watch your kids having fun. -- DJ

The Minx and Milady

I recently discovered two literary gems: "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" by Anita Loos, and "Lady Addle Remembers" by Mary Dunn. Neither are particularly edifying, and both made me laugh aloud.

"Gentlemen" (1925) is written as the diary of Lorelei Lee, a(ahem) "professional lady." It's obvious that Lorelei isn't exactly the brightest star in the sky ("If I wrote down everything I was thinking, it wouldn't make a book, it would make a whole row of encyclopediacs."). But when it comes to getting everything she can out of wealthy men, Lorelei is brilliant. She's calculating, devious, and very sweet. You can't help but admire her genius.

"Lady Addle Remembers" (late '20s, early 30s) is a spoof of the aristocratic memoirs that were popular at the time -- shameless name-dropping, minute recollections of trivial events, and an unshakeable conviction of superiority. Lady Blanche Addle drops, recollects, and condescends with the best of them. My favorite part of the book is the exchange of letters between herself and her dominating mother-in-law. ("Addle [her husband] regarded his mother's word as law. I had strong feelings about her also, and she about me.") Excessively polite and considerate of one another's feelings, the letters crackle with a tension that Lady Blanche would never confess aloud: too vulgar. Lady Blanche never stoops below her position in life.

For a literary walk off the beaten path, try these two easy reads. -- SJ

Single date

Darren's off to see Spider-man 2 before it leaves theaters, which is why my blogging debut is so prolific.

He goes off to a movie by himself, and I spend the evening online. Sounds like a scenerio from "Relationships Gone Awry." -- SJ

Loss of Wisdom

I am less the person I was yesterday. The fact that so many other people have done exactly the same thing I did doesn't really soothe my pain. In fact, where the pain is concerned, I've found that Tylenol #3 with codeine is what's really effective.

I got all four wisdom teeth removed yesterday morning. I was awake throughout the procedure... well, all of me except most of my face, including my lower right eyelid, an uncomfortable condition that made me see everything double. Dr. Amos went at me with foot-long stainless steel needles (you think I'm kidding). The worst part was seeing *two* of them coming toward me at once...

A major benefit of local anesthetic is that you bounce back pretty quickly, and I'm feeling good. And as for the customary jokes about being less wise, I soundly beat Darren at Scrabble tonight. (I played QUASH on a triple-word score, with the S crossing another word. 57 points. It was beautiful). So I'm pretty confident that I'm on the mend. -- SJ

What's in a name?

Back when I was a mere boring "Roberts," I dreamed of marrying a man with a really cool last name.

Cheswick. O'Rourke. Windsor. Banderas.

But God was in His heaven, ordaining my future. In the fullness of time, he called over Michael and Gabriel. "Hey, y'all," He said (of course He did!). "Watch what's in store for the little Roberts girl." And all of them laughed hysterically as I was wooed and won by... a Jones.

But, four years later, I can trace God's mind in this matter. (Like all once-dedicated ATI-ers, I know how to find God's purposes in *everything.*). God knew that one day, Darren would get us a blog account, and I would be able to be clever with the title because of the name Jones. I mean, who's ever heard of "Keeping Up With the O'Rourkes"? Yes, all things work together for good. -- SJ

My workplace

Here is the place I work. It's a wonderful organization! -- DJ

Yet another random post

I'm sitting here with my son on my lap, my wife looking over my shoulder, and my daughter requesting "The ABC Song" rather than "Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire." -- DJ

I Have Succumbed

After months of refusing to get a blog of my own, I've done it, for the limited purpose (so far) of not having to post as "Anonymous" on Blogspot sites. -- DJ

[mutterings, rants, and mental expeditions of michael j reitz, esq.]

This is one of my favorite blogs. -- DJ