The Passion of Humanity

My sister-in-law was raised Wisconsin Lutheran and now will not believe in God. Her stomach was turned (her words) by the hypocrisy of those who professed to love God as they condemned those around them who did not measure up to their standards.

Both of our daughters (20 somethings) have struggled with the modern day versions of these Christian pietists. Our oldest contemplated joining the Unitarian Church so that she could simply worship where everyone appeared accepted; she now has decided to become an ELCA pastor - probably from years of my saying “If you want to change something, don't quit, but work hard for change from the inside.” On the other hand, our youngest will not grace the doors of a church. But, then she was the one called a whore, to her face, by her friend, Jeff's, panicy, “well-meaning” mother who also belongs to a very fringe Christian sect. Laura wears pants and actually trims her hair, and therefore lives contrary this woman’s set of Christian standards. While Laura chose to “turn the other cheek”, and required us to do the same, the deep wounding she took makes me wish in retrospect we had sat that woman down to discuss OUR version of the Gospel. Most likely it would not have changed a thing, and Laura's motive for gagging us was predicated by wanting to provide a safe-haven for the woman's son at our house, but the damage Laura still talks about two years later is like a knife to me.

How human we all are – go figure. Even in what we call our faith in God we run from the unknown, attempting to have dominion over creation, our environment and those around with laws and rules that are predicated on the destruction of the "other". We put labels on people and causes, be it from the right or from the left. “It’s a “xxx” conspiracy!” – fill in “xxx” for your favorite cause. Is it against the party you are not for, or against the other? Is it against someone’s age, education, or their wealth, or the lack there of? Is it against someone’s heritage, or sexual preference? We love boxes – for anyone else who is not like us. And the more rules we can enact to stop “them” from getting anything that hints of favorite status, compared to us, the better.

I just finished the two Passions: of Christ and of the Jew. How human the antagonists in both films were, and how they certainly set off the alarm systems of the “other side.” I remember seeing both Braveheart and The Patriot - also with Mel - and being sickened by the violence and the glee with which Gibson had his entrails cut out while he was still alive (oh, yech) and the lack of human compassion in the English soldier's heart while the American church burned filled with people locked inside. But I do not remember any riots or concerns that the English would be seen as a brutal, savage people – even though they were certainly portrayed as such in the movies. I, therefore, have a hard time understanding how an historical look at how brutally criminals were treated by the Romans, even at the instigation of the Jewish leaders, at the time Jesus lived intrinsically equals a Jew-hating film. Historically, the religious heads of Jerusalem had an innocent man put to death, along the normal and barbaric methods the Romans saved for the despicable. Rather than being mini-Satans, Caiaphas and his minions reacted against Jesus with typical human fear – fear for their jobs, their security, their religion, their lives. And so, they instigated the standard human action: get the populous on your side by appealing to their fears. Do we not act the same today? In my Discipleship group we watched a clip of Tom Brokaw interviewing the president of the affiliations of Evangelical churches in the US. To hear this devout man talk about how he had daily conversations with the White House, and how American needed to make sure laws were passed to keep those gays in line, and to hear the rhetoric he spewed to his congregations; he came to mind while watching the trial scenes in Gibson’s Passion. Make sure “those” who threaten our way of thinking and preaching are eliminated, or at least completely marginalized. Just like the kid in the Passion of the Jew took the meaning of the movie to be continue on with Hitler’s sick misappropriation of the Gospel; which, of course, everyone blindly mistook his intentions and backed him thinking they were out to "convert" everyone with the film: twist the film to fulfill what you want it to say.

These movies provok me to ponder who I mistreat without thinking. To whom do I throw rocks and condemn, demanding they follow some human-made rule I align with, without finding out who they are and what is the truth of the issue? Whom do I castrate in the name of Christ? I didn't focus on the gore of Gibson's Passion (of course having a remote control helped), but I marveled at how the Sanhedrin was just made up of people like you and me - convinced they had to finally deal with a cosmic threat. We scream “crucify” as we encounter those whom we feel are a threat to our security – either nationally or religiously. And we wash our hands like Pilot when our emplorings don't make a change to the masses. But God calls us to a different life in Christ: “Behold, I make all things new.” We are called to perservere in the face of the masses and the rhetoric; to stand up and work for fair and balanced laws - for all sides of the debate; to understand that every human throughout time has fallen short of God, and all are beloved by God as God's children - regardless of how we may see their actions or inactions. There is no Satan Incarnate; only God Incarnate. Satan may influence human hearts and actions, but God's love will always overcome this threat - for eternity.

Oh God, open my eyes to your presence in those around me with whom I do not agree. Help me to see your love and influence in their lives, and put your words, not mine, on my lips. Still my heart from fear, but help me to brave the unknown - to break through the barriers that separate me from the "others" in my life, so I can learn who they really are as your children. Through the blood we shed of your beloved Son, Amen

Priscilla

After all these years I finally saw The Adventures of Pricilla – Queen of the Desert. What I love about this genre of movie (which includes some other of my favorite movies: To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar and The Birdcage / La Cage aux Folles) is that it takes on the discrimination that comes from categorizing people only from surface knowledge. In each of these films it is the interaction between flamboyant gays and uncomfortable straights that allows us to consider how we would really act under those circumstances. From personal experience I know it took for me a rafting trip with some of my sister’s friends (she is gay) to get past the surface issues and get to the hearts of these women that completely changed my viewpoint back in the early 90’s. From “Adventures”, I appreciate it was the child that taught “Mitzi” about unconditional love; of being loved for who he is just as God loves him.

It has been disheartening to hear the clamor within the ELCA regarding the place gays are allowed to hold within the church. I especially love the holier-than-thou attitude of pastors who announce they would leave this denomination if the current proposals are ever passed.

When I look back to the gospels, I cannot find any reference Christ made to homosexuals, who certainly did exist at the time. What I do find is the story of the stoning of the prostitute. The stoners were told to deal with their own problems rather than hers. Yes, Christ did tell the prostitute to stop sinning, but it was a conversation between the woman and God, not between her and other humans. God sent the humans away to deal with their own sins, and then dealt directly with her; he did not instruct the townspeople on how to discern which sins were worthy of stoning, physically or verbally.

Biblical passages have been used quite effectively to stone the disadvantaged, the “least of these.” I have recently been asking myself who is the “least of these” in our current times? Of all the groups globally I think that gays and lesbians come closest to the lepers of Jesus’ day (a similar misguided theology of attributing physical conditions to a sinful condition?). If God doesn’t make “junk”, and if all of creation was deemed good, and if there is diversity in so many aspects of creation, why is the thought of God deeming diversity in sexual orientation as OK such an abomination for humanity to accept?

For me, I know that my faith in God has nothing to do with my sister’s orientation or her faith. And for me, regardless where the ELCA falls on this issue, I know Christ trumped all of the 600+ Old Testament laws and instead raised the bar, directly calling me to treat all people with the same level of love that I treat myself – regardless of what sins I feel they commit. I find no hierarchy of sins listed in the Bible by Christ, nothing where he tells me that behind human sexuality lurks the potential for sins more heinous to God than gossiping and verbally demoralizing each other. In fact, if I look at an overarching message behind the Commandments 4-10, I see they relate to not doing harm to another person. How does two people having sex come anywhere near as heinous of an act as verbally demoralizing them, of murdering their spirit, of telling them God is going to make them fry in hell for loving someone “everyone” doesn’t agree with? Go figure.

So my hats off to Mitzi, Felicia and Bernadette. And to Bob, the delightful old hippie who treats Bernadette with such love and tenderness. And here’s to all of the kids who can love their moms and dads for who they are to the core … I hope I have raised two daughters just like that.

Protection I

I was hit full in the face with systematic discrimination this morning that sent me reeling to the edge of unrestrained panic. I also knew I was behind in preparing for my Proactive Ministries class and so raced up to the library to grab the copy of the movie “Crash” on reserve … and was hit full in the face with a movie filled with multiple views of systemic discrimination – from racism to institutional to economic to educational. The walk to class was precariously emotional, but creating relationship through delving into viewpoints and thought processes was a balm that has allowed me to take a step back and let God’s voice still my fears and pain.

My identification with the movie went far past the fact that I live only two hours from LA, where the movie takes place. Even though my town is a world unto itself, and defines itself as “not-LA”, I could directly identify with every character and situation, either from personal experience or from dealing first-hand with the participants of one side or the other. As a female in the male world of CPA's in the 80's, and as part Latina and part Scandinavian and fully Christian in So Cal, I have dealt personally with many forms of discrimination. My personal decision was that my work would speak for itself, and if I, or my work, did not pass muster I find another place to work, or another group to associate with. Today, however, I was hit with a discrimination that I cannot overcome by my work ethic or by my conscious decision to ignore its focus on me; I cannot refuse it’s authority in any form, it's impact could be life changing, and the sense of hopelessness almost undid me.

I am a kidney transplant recipient. With that proud, new-life designation comes a myriad of required specialist appointments, lab works and medicines, the co-pays for which under my Seminary insurance can pay for an entirely new insurance policy with the full coverage I expect to need, given the number of hospital and doctor visits I have been privileged to have lived through in the past five years.

This morning, after two months of trying to get supplemental insurance coverage set, I was given the final word by a major carrier (a household name throughout all of the US) in Minnesota that, regardless of having certificates of coverage for the past five years, just the mere fact I survived a transplant means I am flatly denied under their cost-benefit formula. In addition, regardless of my condition, they claim they have no reciprocity with California group plans and would not cover any pre-existing conditions if they gave me an individual plan. “We’re individual companies – we may share the name as those companies in CA, but we have nothing to do with each other.” Basically, the agent said, Don’t Bother, your kind isn’t welcome to apply here.

Today was the first time I could identify first-hand with the millions of people in the US who are denied health insurance because they do not fit the actuarial model of risk the insurance companies wish to take, which is quite different from the model I think they should morally (and legally) take. Since I was born I have always been covered under a group health insurance plan, either my father’s, or mine when I went to work, or my husband’s for those years I spent not working but raising the girls. This year, as we purchased new individual policies for both the girls, my husband and I walked away from our lucrative jobs, both carrying full medical-dental-vision-life-disability plans, and came to Luther at God’s call. For the first time we are no longer covered under a comprehensive Group Insurance, where proof of prior coverage provides the magic cloak covering all prior conditions.

The fear I find myself in, as of today, is that the limitations to the seminary insurance, along with future calls to small congregations could (a) risk my life or my life’s security or (b) could severely impact future insurability. These are life impacts that have potentially far-reaching consequences I never expected to be part of the call to mission.

I am fully aware that many reading this will be like I was as of yesterday: So what? Why are you upset? There is always another answer just around the corner. So What? Most of us don’t know what it is to have saved any assets, either via a retirement account or via a home? For twenty six years, however, I have known the security from real estate and for the past few years we have eked out a small retirement account, and I find I have a lot invested emotionally in that security. Now, I am facing the question that maybe even this security is being asked of me when accepting this call: “Sell all that you own …”, only I wouldn’t be giving it to the poor, which is another sense of gall. Maybe I do harbor a false sense of security in human endeavors that God needs to shake in me. Well, the shaking today gave me whiplash, but I must stay true to my beliefs and thank God even for this. That even if I am being called to a life much different than I even imagined, that God still has me in the palm of God’s hand and nothing will ever separate me from God’s love. In this I can truly stake my life, my security, my protection. Which is easy to say now, but so difficult when the medical procedure costs too much and debt simply increases ...

Protection II - "Crash"

I watched “Crash” for the 2nd time tonight (2x in one day – right before and right after class with fascinating insights fresh in the mind) during dinner with my husband. My husband took some time to fiddle with the Set Up before the movie started, which allowed me to notice a detail I never saw the first time: At the main menu there are words that glow in and out across the top as a banner: I will hate you, I will love you, I will protect you …

Protection. This is one of the many themes that are woven together to make this provocative movie: To what do you give authority to protect you? What, or who, do you expect to protect you during times of danger? What is your responsibility in this covenant?

The writers chose to explore a myriad of protections we rely on: police involvement or safety from their involvement, guns, husbands, magic cloaks, safe neighborhoods, job titles, bureaucratic stature, work ethics, equitable laws, insurance coverage, angels, St Christopher dashboard figurines, safety belts, car structures, friends, bed frames, door locks, America, freedom. Yet, each of these protections is shown as having the potential for fallibility, and actual protection came from unlikely sources: a thief freeing immigrants, blank bullets being fired, a hated cop saving a life, an empathetic cop standing in the line of fire, the helping hand of a housekeeper.

In what do we put our trust? In what do we expect our future to rely on? How much do we tell God we trust in God’s being there, only to panic when our short term view of the help that eventually arrives is the last thing we want? What happens to us when the protective layers we have cloaked our lives in are suddenly stripped away? What happens when protection fails, like an insurance company denying coverage, and we lose livelihood and life is threatened? What happens when our protection, like the gun, is taken away and turned on us? What happens when those we expect, rely on to protect us, fail us? What happens when the freedom we grant another – a mother, brother, immigrant, causes their ruin?

Thank you, Most Merciful God, for continuing to love us in spite of our predilection for self-determination; that seduces us to surround ourselves with fallible protection, sublimating your promises below those layers of our own making. Thank you for your promise to only give us that which we can survive, and for providing the source of strength before we know to ask. Help us to keep our focus on you, our true protection, so that we, like Peter, can do the impossible and walk above the chaos threatening to destroy us. Help us also, to trust you and dive back into that chaos so that others can have life. Amen.

Musings on Christian Blogging

The muse has caught my attention with blog posting etiquette. As background, our teacher emailed a link to a blog that discussed the constraints one should use if blogging as a church leader, or the high-profile spouse of such a leader. Discussions have begun by classmates, and one caught my musings kathywolf - Christian Blogging. Kathy rightly poses that if “one really needs to unload for cathartic reasons”, then use an off-line journal.

As one who recently did unload cathartically about my father-in-law, I understand what Kathy means. I went through questioning whether my post was appropriate for the internet and whether the content was ok (and then ran it through my husband, who would be its worst critic). His and my final conclusion was that a faith statement was needed in light the situation we had just witnessed and this blog was the correct venue. Many may not agree with our joint decision, but understand there was a conscious decision.

On the other hand, I wonder about the amount of vitriol I have read in blogs (not from our class) – especially, it appears, when the writer is concerned about informing others of the shortcomings of an “evil” government. It is mind-numbing the amount of hatred and garbage that is spewn in the name of “free speech” – and if it comes from a Christian writer then shame on whoever you are. My assumption (which one should never make, but what the hey) is they are using the web because no newspaper would print letters to the editor filled with such inflammatory language (at least my home paper dumps those letters) - or at least they would be called upon to prove their statistics, which, by the formation of the question can be easily skewed to give you what ever answer you want. If one could believe such writing then the world as we know it will come crashing to an end before the next election can happen unles these Mighty Mice can save the day; but of course, it was never about to explode when their candidate was in office making just about the same decisions. Oh, Hogwash. Just as I will outlast any pastor that graces the doors of my church, good and bad, the world will outlast any official in power - from any nation. Screaming, whether through a bullhorn in the streets with a march, or on the web, produces -0- results – you are only preaching to the choir and turning the rest against your cause. I have yet to see concrete changes in the world from such displays. I have seen true changes from within, however, which is where each person with a burning passion against a cause should be: inside that organization or politics, learning the TRUTH about all sides of the debate (truth, not spin - which means take on the other side's position and rationale in order to truly learn it), casting each player’s actions and motives (as Luther admonishes) in the best possible light, and then working together for a solution. It’s long, hard, messy, frustrating work, and not as much fun as posturing in front of a crowd, but history shows that's how to affect true, lasting and productive change.

So, back to the musings about Christian Blogging: my advice to myself as an amateur blogger but life-long Christian, who is still learning, would be to always have Christ as my proof-reader. While Christ did cleanse the temple with very peppery speech, I have yet to find a verse where he recasts the Great Commission as: “Go therefore and judge in my name – vilifying all who do not align with your puny understanding of God’s universe, making sure they are good and contrite for the sins you have convicted them of before I get a hold of them, and make sure others have taken up your cause to castigate them, spurred on by your stiletto tongue …”; rather, I remember being admonished to put down the rocks and deal with the logs in my own eye while simultaneously ignoring the speck in the other guy’s. In that light, as Christians, we should blog with genuine love and concern for any with whom we are in conflict, and should take the time to talk with them about their side of the issues before unloading, either to one another or on the web.

Stand by Me

After so many movies dealing with depressing subjects, it was such a joy to revisit "Stand by Me"; a bucolic retrospective into a time when children could have an overnight adventure in the woods without the cops being called for kidnapping.

The movie focuses a close eye on the interactions between the four main characters: the smart kid (Gordie), the smart mouth (Teddy), the street kid (Chris) and the dweeb (Vern), who each face many of their deepest fears during a two-day odyssey to come to grips with death. The story, based on a Stephen King novel, places Chris has the hero, the character that holds the others together when they each begin to unravel: Gordie from the fear of separation from his last father-figure now that his older brother has died, Teddy from the fear of who is father is – and possibly who he is by extension, and Vern from the fear his father’s reactions in all situations. Chris, in the end, faces the largest fear of personal safety – from the kingpin who rules his older brother as the “father” of the gang – perfectly played by Keifer Sutherland who can embody scum bags so well. In a delightful twist, Gordie becomes the hero for Chris, solidifying their friendship and showing Chris an alternative life path of empowerment; which ultimately costs Chris his life as an adult. As a side note, it was most poignant that River Phoenix should play Chris, and then die so senselessly from an overdose at a young age.

I love the deep sense of camaraderie and friendship of these boys, a bond not appearing to be based on looks, possessions, family status, or even a common mental approach to life. And I love King’s use of Chris and Gordie’s as the unexpected heros, willing to seize the moments and provide the strength and support required right then by each of the other characters. It is a wonderful example of Christ in our midst, giving a healing touch to the deepest wound, even risking personal safety for those in need. A rare King story not dealing with the gross dregs of human nature or fears, but of providing friendship and solidarity while those around us are in turmoil.

A Good Watch.

Blessings to Clayton

My parents-in-law's 60th Anniversary Party (Feb 2004)

Sunday October 2, 2005: My father-in-law died early this morning in a nursing home in California. We have been expecting this, and it also was the cause of much angst with our decision to follow our call to seminary. We have wrestled with United to find flights home that didn't cost $1800 apiece (true price), we have emailed every prof and friend we can think of, we have mentally thought through the packing lists and what to do with our fresh food. And now we wait until tomorrow noon when our plane leaves to return us to family.

And so, my posting this week is in his memory.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005: It has been a week and a half since my father-in-law died. So much went on last week it was necessary to wait until I returned to let all settle into focus.

When we answered the phone call the stilettos of grief that pierced my heart were paradoxically wrapped in joy for his release. This death was both anticipated and not – at least we (selfishly) had hoped not right now, so soon after we left for Luther guilty and sad that perhaps his life would not last until we returned at New Year’s. He struggled these past three years to find any joy or purpose in life amidst the pain of a failing body. Quality of Life, it appeared, was intrinsically bound to what was happening directly to him; any sense that he looked to impact the lives of others, even in such a feeble condition, was not apparent.

How does one minister to an ailing man you love who has rejected Christ for most of his life? This wonderfully gentle soul was the son of two ministers in the Christian Church - Disciples of Christ, and as a young man declared the entire concept hogwash. While the household reveled in witty conversation, with three university-trained brothers lobbing salvos and volleys of conversation like racquet balls during family dinners, theological discussions were never apropos for the twenty-seven years I knew and loved this family. I often wondered what my father-in-law truly thought of his youngest son, my husband, embracing Christianity through our marriage after having raised him agnostic. I would expect he had little or no opinion; he seemed caught in a web of not verbally imposing his opinion on another while stubbornly holding onto to his own views of life; not daring to chance there might be another option to embrace, or to even enjoy the dance of discovery and rejection. We chose the ministry of love and silent witness, never knowing if our actions and presence were enough to allow Christ to be seen, but always trusting God that witness is what we are called to do.

My father-in-law was a phenomenal musician and university professor, or so the myriad of friends, family and former students have told me. I have always regretted never hearing him play; he retired as a professor of woodwinds just after I met him and would not play again, and soon after even walked away from his beloved jazz albums. He was co-founder and first chair oboist of our city's Symphony, and the family has regaled me of the countless stories of his travels as a concert musician, receiving accolades as a concert oboist and ensemble player throughout the country. What I am able to delight in is the love of music that he passed onto his son, via piano, harpsichord and choral (resulting now in the quest for an MSM-Choral Conducting degree from Luther) and then to our daughters via piano, clarinets and, yes, rock bands :)

But while I loved this man dearly, the lack of faith he passed on to the other family members set such a flat and empty tone after his death. Grief outside of the Christian context is a strange phenomenon to witness. My husband and I spent the past week back home, along with his brothers, surrounding his mother with love and presence; but, unlike when my mother was killed in an auto accident three years ago, here there was no funeral or service to plan for, no anticipation of closure while grieving in the presence of others in God’s house. No joy or hope in the resurrection floods this family, no certainty of future reunion, only the recognition of the cessation of life; one life was done now shoulder on. Out go the clothes, rearrange the furniture.

Of all things, my theological paper for Prof Simpson’s Overview of Christian Teachings became my refuge. “I have to work on “The Paper”” became my form of shouting joy in the face of emptiness, and I would retreat to pound out my thoughts. “Who is Jesus, and what difference does the identity of Jesus make for the identity of the biblical God?” What joy to delve into the identity of Christ and to explore territories of thought never entered before; to put to paper that which I understood about the interrelationship of the Triune God, justifying thoughts by citing the words and thoughts of theologians throughout the ages; and then, to stumble onto a possibility for a new understanding. Maybe this new thought I developed is not really new on the theological circuit, but it was new to me and it electrified my being as I contemplated new facets of comprehension of such an awesome God. What a rush, and what a cathartic process for my soul.


So, my final thoughts to my beloved father-in-law:

Clayton, my sweet, I thank God for your life.

I thank God that you married Jeanne, had four boys and raised them in Santa Barbara so I could meet and marry your youngest and then give you back two fabulous granddaughters.

I thank God for my brothers-in-law and their families, wonderful souls to connect with and to love. I thank God you and Jeanne survived the loss of your third child to cancer just as Philip was being born, though the thought of doing so without God daunts me.

I thank God for your love of music that permeates my family; a love you instilled in Philip and now is expressed through Holly & Laura.

I thank God for your gentle nature, your wit and your smile, and the love that sustained you and Jeanne for over 60 years of marriage. I thank God for the love you have showed to me for the 27 years we have known each other.

I commend your life to Christ, trusting in God’s mercy and abundant love for you. I know that your knee now has bowed before God, that God’s forgiveness encompasses the defiance you held for so many years just as it does all of my sins, and that God has dealt mercifully with you as God will with all of us.

God bless you in death and give you peace, dearest soul.
Love, Karen

What a Week

Well, I just had two hours of work vanish in an instant, due to the week’s internet gremlin determined not to let me do my work. Lesson: Write the blog in Word, save to desktop, and then post. Thank you Blogger for the Word plug-in that allows direct post from inside Word, assuming of course the internet has connectivity.

So, to try to recapture the witty repartee that I was quite pleased with when I foolishly clicked Save Post without connection …

It certainly was an interesting week, highlighted by watching the DVD “Requiem for a Dream” (oi, what an ending) on Weds night while my husband was doing his church choir gig southeast of St Paul. I found out I had mislaid my tornado savvy from 20 years ago when 2/3 through the movie I suddenly realized the wind had become quite loud – angry, in fact. I flipped to the weather channel ... a channel we never look at in Santa Barbara except to check the weather in other locales. Ours is always: Highs today in the mid to upper 70’s, marine layer in the morning burning off by mid-afternoon, lows tonight in the low to mid 50’s. People grumble if the numbers vary by more than 15%, especially it seems those who grew up in the mid-west. Go figure. But I digress … I flipped to the weather channel and what to my wondering eyes did appear but a bright red banner stating Tornado Is Here. Oh, Phooey – I’m on a 3rd floor without a basement. Do I go, Don’t I go, Do I go? Grumbling, I picked up my keys & cell phone and trudged through the wind and rain across the parking lot to Sandgren’s basement where I enjoyed meeting the dogs and cats from Family Housing plus chatting to their owners. Once back at home the phone rang instantly – my dad, a retired Norwegian Meteorologist with a thing for maps was watching CNN (Rita & the LAX plane drama with locked wheels) when the tornado story interrupted. He grabbed his trusty MN map to see how close the twister was to me and was a little pole axed to see I was right in it, relatively speaking. We laughed about the weather (our common dialogue), hung up and immediately my sister from Portland called – CNN sure reaches the world. A couple hours later I finally finished the movie and returned it to its case.

Me being me, and since I do have an assignment, I began musing about: What are my addictions that I cannot live without, even with the pain and grief they cause me (and, that I’m willing to share on this blog)? At the top of this list, most likely blaring in brightly colored neon (another addiction: color - pens, highlighters, fonts, etc. Absolute junky), is computer technology. And presto, the internet connection gremlin popped up and has plagued me (and I guess Burtvedt) ever since. It seems to be most angry when I try to read or post to blogs (oh the hours upon hours wasted this weekend trying to respond to Dan’s enticing comments), but what really got my goat was when it would drop a connection every 30 seconds (no joke) while telecommuting for UCSB. While I usually am quite glad for the excuse not to do work, the checkbook is clambering mightily for input to offset the output which sets off multiple panic buttons in me. The poor little kids playing outside my window at Burtvedt heard a particularly rotten roar after too many deep breaths trying to be one with the cosmos as my connection kept going south.

So, I ditched the internet and headed to Gullixon to find some required reading for Simpson's theological overview class. Cool, I thought, two of the tomes I need are on CD, so I can copy the texts to my h:/ drive and access them from home. "Not so fast," said the technology gremlin, "You will instead waste two hours struggling to get the library computers enhanced with Logos to even recognize the CD's (here's where this gal does not like to ask for directions). I will grant you the text from one CD, but the other will refuse to be read by Logos, so come back tomorrow and use old technology to photocopy from the tome." Ech.

So, my overarching addiction? Convenience. What glee to sit in my jammies in Minnesota connecting remotely to my screamer-of-a-computer (speed is also tops on my list – computers, cars, ski-boats, planes, etc) to analyze the interactions between two databases on separate UCSB servers and then to click on that computer’s internet icon to connect with a computer in Texas to analyze other UCSB transactions posted from yet another UCSB database to that company's database. Yehaa! Then, there’s the amazement of stepping off a plane into a new country only hours after leaving your own – an entirely different culture, language, world. And of course there’s that non-west coast phenomenon of driving up to the side of a grocery store and having your groceries loaded for you while tucked conveniently in a covered drive-through, away from the elements. And while I no longer enjoy using convenience foods, I also have no interest in gather wood and making a fire au natural; instead I want to cook conveniently packaged fresh foods over my inside stove with my running water at my disposal flowing into my disposal. I have found the current lack of a dishwasher has not been a concern, as I have a delightfully hunky dishwasher in Philip ... as long as I cook delightfully gourmet meals.

But, there is also something relaxing and renewing about being elbow-deep in hot, sudsy water, washing the grime and gunk from the meal’s dishes, creating order from chaos. And how blessed that through my baptism God wakes me every day, washing me clean in the death and resurrection of Christ Jesus; stripping off the detritus of my addictions and my failings. Each day God sends me into the world shiny and new, whispering sweet nothings into my mind reminding me how truly blessed I am, how we all are; how we are called to be God’s mirror to the world – no light source of our own, but reflecting the light of God's peace and love into the dark recesses of sin and suffering (thank you, Daniel Erlander, so many years ago for that engrossing image, and thank you Placher for the viewpoint of love replacing power at the center of the universe). ... such bliss …

I'm Now Blogging with Blogger!

Well, I'm now here on Blogger. I first tried Bloglines but they don't allow commenting (a requirement for my Luther Seminary class on media), I then tried LiveJournal but wasn't nuts about the format and the formatting. Then, when I commented on a friend's Blogger page I was forced to first set up an account. Sneaky.

But so far, I like the formatting & editing options for Blogger's posts, the ability to save drafts of the post before publishing, plus the pre-defined page layout options, so I hope I've found a home!

If any of my classmates have comments they were unable to post in Bloglines, have at it ;)

This is also a test of Small Verdana font in dark plum (thank you God for color!), as black Times New Roman is yawn. We'll see what futures posts look like.