Tractor Antiquus et Fides Vivens (Jim's Blog)

Half a Lifetime Ago

2009-10-15T19:15:00.000-07:00

Half a lifetime ago I graduated from high school and wandered down to St. Olaf in Northfield. I left behind 47 classmates who also went on to college or work. Today I reconnected with one of them.

How do you put 18 years into an hour? That's what Nate and I tried to do today -- to learn about each other's personal and professional lives. To see what happened to two kids growing up in southern Minnesota in the 1980s and 90s.

I think the best part of an experience like this is to see the maturity that has developed since those days when our scalps were full but our brains empty -- not empty of facts, but empty of experience in making good judgments. Maturity is its own reward. You may not enjoy the circumstances you face, but you can face them with a heart warmed by Christ's love and a mind seasoned by those decisions you made which weren't so great.

So I had a good time chatting, learning, and growing. I'm hopeful that the years ahead will contain more of these types of meetings. You can't go home, but you can reminisce about it.

Doesn't Get Any Easier

2009-10-12T18:38:00.000-07:00

Run, run, run. I am the hamster on the wheel.

My wife has her own wheel right now, too.

Rest first or study first? I don't know.

At least all the children minus Evan are in bed.

Evan is at scouts.
I am at home.
My paperwork calls me.
I ignore it.
This isn't haiku, but it is lyrical.
I think.

You like me! You really like me!

2009-10-06T19:03:00.000-07:00

When my first son was born, I was terrified.
When my second son was born, I was amazed.
When my third son was born, I was amused. Oh, look, another one. How quaint.

When my daughter was born, I was ecstatic. Thank God! We finally got a girl.

In the ensuing years of parenting, I discovered that the boys took to me pretty much on sight. Something in their little self-wiring knew that they were supposed to identify with Dad, and since Dad was present, identify they did. Furthermore, they had to identify with me since there was always another baby filling Mom's lap. This "connecting with Dad" thing really surprised me, as I was sure I was going to be a failure at raising and leading boys. Quite the contrary. They trust that I know what I'm doing and model themselves wholeheartedly after my ways. Suckers.

The girl bucked the entire system, spending her first two and a half years looking at me as a cross between furniture and cat yaack. Even in a pinch, Daddy usually wasn't good enough. It annoyed me to no end, since I've changed hundreds of diapers, read hundreds of stories, and gotten plenty of children ready for bed.

Over the past three months, Avery has finally started to acknowledge me as more than a distant relation whom she may have seen on one or two occasions. Today she came running into the kitchen when she heard me come home and sort of huggled on my legs for a while before Toby blasted her out of the way. She likes flying up to the ceiling on Daddy-power and sits at my end of the dinner table without complaint. And she smiles.

Thank God, we are making progress.

An Epidemic of Homelessness

2009-09-13T12:57:00.000-07:00

So I was sitting in the directors' meeting last week, and I shared how were are starting The Truth Project this fall for adult ministries. And one or two people in the meeting wondered if we might run out of space for all the attenders. And I said, "I doubt it. Let's see how many come before we create worries that don't even exist.

Well, I was wrong. The people started coming in about 10:18 and didn't stop for the next 35 minutes. By the time all the chairs were in, and the people were seated, there were 45 people and 4 oxygen molecules in the room. A few were standing in the doorway or sitting out in the hall. Moments later, we began The Truth Project. It's a DVD series from Focus on the Family that explores how Christianity deals with every aspect of life and society. We are taking each DVD in two halves... we watch for about 25 minutes, then talk about what we've seen in the context of brothers and sisters in Christ. Even in the squeeze today, it worked pretty well. The people discussed actively and made some good connections. We also dug into some spiritual truths about what the unsaved person is like and how transformative God is to bring us to his family and himself.

After lunch, we went to Walmart with all the kids. There were two homeless guys begging at the turn into the parking lot. Evan surveyed the situation and then said, "We should do something for that guy."

We shopped. We loaded our stuff. Then Evan said, "Aren't we going to do something for that guy?" (one of them had left). So I said, "What do you want to do?"
And he said, "Could we give him some money or something?"
And I said, "Your money or my money? Are you willing to give him your own money?"

Well, he thought for a minute and then said, "Yeah. You give me the money and I'll work it off." So Tara handed him four quarters that we had in the change holder up front, and Evan walked over to the man and gave him the money. When he returned to the van, Tara looked at me and said, "Good job, Honey. You taught him compassion."

I said, "No, I did not. I taught him the difference between a Democrat and a Republican." And she started to laugh, gently at first, then harder as the reality sank in. Of course Evan wanted to know what was going on, so I repeated myself.

"Evan," I said, "I've just taught you the difference between a Democrat and a Republican. A Democrat helps the poor by taking other people's money and giving it to them. A Republican helps the poor by giving them his own money."

Of course, that's a massive oversimplification, but the core of it is true. It takes very little charity to give away someone else's money. It takes real character and faith to give away your own.

Notes from Our Trip to West Branch

2009-09-07T19:24:00.000-07:00

I left school on Friday with all my work done. This is a rare experience, due to extraordinary self-discipline during the day and a crack schedule that includes three (count 'em, 1-2-3) preps in a row on Friday mornings.

I casually mentioned to Tara that maybe we would like to go somewhere for Labor Day weekend. She airily replied, "You organize it and get the kids packed, and I'll be happy to go." So I got out an old Iowa map and started looking for destinations. I'm not sure why I chose Iowa. I think I wasn't sure what part of Minnesota I wanted to see, and anything north of the Cities, even though it exists, doesn't really exist because during my childhood there was never any reason to go there.

So when she got home from Nick and Jessica's about 3:00 on Sunday, I said, "Let's go." And she had had plenty of time to mentally prepare for this, so she didn't even say, "Where?" She just said, "O.K. What's left to pack?"

The destination I had chosen was the Hoover Presidential Library in West Branch, Iowa. They had special programs planned for Labor Day, and it seemed a good site for a family with lots of children.

We pulled out around 4:00 and hit 63 south. I think we traveled through until Waterloo, Iowa, where we began looking for a park to stop and eat our dinner (I had packed sandwich fixins in our cooler). The main problem with Waterloo is that everyone is, uh, not the same color we are. From my end, that's not a problem, except that I don't know if it's a problem from their end. I don't really want to be shot for entering a neighborhood where my kind ain't welcome. So we finally settled on something like Lincoln Park, a sort of town square with decorative trees, picnic tables, and a carillon from the Presbyterian Church Across the Street playing the Doxology during dinner. Needing to urinate, we headed across the street to a scuzzy-looking convenience store run by a middle-eastern man and his family. Everyone peed, and in my gratitude, when Aidan wanted a bag of marshmallow peanuts, I happily obliged him.

We were pretty stunned when we hit the cash register to pay, and it was manned by a seven-year-old boy. It got even better when we saw his skills: lightning fast with the cash, the register, the change, and the "May I help who's next?" Aidan was buying the peanuts, so it was even funnier... this little middle eastern boy selling to my almost-six-year-old.

So we got out of Waterloo without meeting our Waterloo. I was struck by several things: 1) how white it isn't, as I already said 2) how different churches down there look from churches in Rochester -- in general, bigger, older, more garish, and more run-down. 3) how people just saunter across the street nowhere near and crosswalk and in very non-Minnesotan ways.

Continuing south, we arrived in Cedar Rapids. I had not booked a hotel because I figured that would give me more flexibility for how far and for what price. (I had done the internet work and knew that 25 hotels in greater Cedar Rapids had availability for that night.) So after lifting a quick prayer for guidance, I exited somewhere on the south half of town. The Lord answered very kindly, because there were no less than 9 motels at the exit I picked. We hit several and finally settled on the Heartland Inn, where the family could swim and where Talli the desk chick promised full breakfast including hot biscuits and gravy and real waffles in the morning. We settled in and let the kids swim until it was pretty late. As a family we don't spend a lot of time in the water, so these are good experiences for them.

Back in our room, we got people down for the night. This is some trick because all four kids aren't used to sleeping in the same room. While they go to sleep, we usually sit in the hallway and read. When we thought it was safe, we re-entered. Only Evan was still awake, and he conked out pretty quickly after we came back in.

In the morning we partook of the said full breakfast and met six siblings in their 50s or so who had been home for a reunion and were now heading back to their homes east of Iowa. One brother told me there were actually 10 of them, but only six were traveling together. Well, this was a delight, and we chatted with them a bit and got them all laughing before we said our good-byes.

There was a little more driving, but we finally arrived at the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library. It is a very pleasant destination, including Hoover's birthplace (a tiny cottage), a re-creation of his father's blacksmith shop, the Quaker meeting house where his family worshipped, Mr. and Mrs. Hoover's graves, and the actual museum/library. Hoover was an efficient man with a big heart for people and humanitarian causes. We learned many facts about him, his wife, and his family and came away with a much different impression than "the guy who presided over the beginning of the depression".

Evan had many wondrous experiences, including playing in the nearby creek where Hoover had played as a boy, being interview by a newspaper reporter, and meeting the wife of a diplomat who had served under Johnson through Bush 41. We toured everything we could and even bought souvenirs for the family.

On the way home, I determined to take a different route through different towns to see more of the countryside, so we traveled 150 north to Highway 52. Eventually that brought us within two miles of the "Smallest Church in America", which we decided to see, even though it was already evening. The Smallest Church in America, St. Anthony of Padua's, really is tiny. Some woman made a vow that if her son came back alive from whatever war, she would build a church. He got back alive, and she figured she better keep her word. To minimize costs (I assume) she only built a tiny church. If it seats 20, that would be amazing. Still, it has elaborate stonework, beautfiul stained-glass windows, and a tall steeple. There is also a guest register where people can record their visit. I counted 9/07/09. Eleven other parties had stopped and signed today!

The rest of the trip, I would like to say, was un-eventful, but that would be a lie. We arrived in a 30 zone on the south end of Chatfield, and the flashing lights started. But I'm tired now. We got off with a warning (mercy completely undeserved) and made it the rest of the way home.

Presidential libraries are very educational. So is traveling with your wife and four children.

The Back Half of August

2009-08-21T19:27:00.000-07:00

I'd like to apologize for not blogging for such a long time. I know you missed me.

Business picked up a bit again in August, though for most of the time, it still wasn't inspiring.
Still, it has been much better than July.

One morning as I was staining the deck at Jayson & Christi's house, our associate pastor called and asked if I would like to preach on August 16. Since I had been wanting to preach for some time, I said, "Sure. I'd love to."

It gave me less than two weeks to write the message, which was fine. Tara happened also to take the children to Sioux Falls during one of those weeks, which gave me plenty of alone time to study.

So I was very happy with the message and how it turned out. I named it "Berean at the Crossroads" and delivered it in the morning service. You can click here to listen to it.

Since then I have stained a lot of decks and given bids, some successful, some not. I am also within three hairs of getting my dad's mortgage paid off. God has graciously provided what we have needed so far, and we believe He will continue to provide and then use this circumstance to provide for us in the future.

Grace, grace, grace. Live it. Believe it. Receive it.

Inservice starts next Tuesday. Can hardly believe that another summer is almost gone.

Steady by Jerks

2009-07-27T20:02:00.000-07:00

Nothing much happening here.

I must force myself to finish my Latin textbook for 5-6th graders. So close.

Evan spent most of the day with me. I was not terribly good company because I have a sore throat.

Just for my own amusement, I applied for a job in another state yesterday. Can you tell I'm bored?

Sunday Sampler

2009-07-26T05:57:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful Sunday morning in southern Minnesota. The birds are singing, the squirrels are chittering, my wife and daughter are laughing. We are getting ready for church, but nobody's really rushing, since the service doesn't start until 9:30.

Our senior pastor resigned after 11 years in that position. Of course that brings immediate changes. To compound these changes, our director of worship also turned in his resignation because a church up on the Minnesota/Dakota border offered him a position leading to worship pastor. So I guess the status quo will be the status ante.

My dad came over for a while yesterday morning. While he was here, he either repaired or contributed to the repair of my small lawn tractor, a roto-tiller, a bicycle, and something else that I cannot recall right now.

We did some aggressive cleaning and organizing yesterday, somewhat to get ready for our Ole Reunion Party next Saturday as well as our houseguest Everett. The irony of this is that Everett wouldn't really be disturbed if our house looked like a war zone. We are looking forward to a nice weekend.

Tara keeps interrupting my blogging to have me feed children. So far I have fed Tater some waffles (he likes waffles) and I plan to nourish Toby in just a moment.

My back has been a source of annoyance again. It feels fine during the day, but I can't sleep a full night lying down. The muscles in the middle become very upset for some reason, causing me to wake up in pain and try to find a comfortable position. I intend to try yet another new strategy tonight.

Patience Is a Virtue

2009-07-22T15:57:00.000-07:00

Work has been sparse -- thinner than any summer in recent memory. I'm not really complaining, but it does make one change his approach to doing business -- somewhat.

For starters, I'm bidding lower. I hate that. We've had so many not-quite-full days that I feel like it's better to get some jobs even if we're not making a ton on each job.

So my bid this morning was at the home of a government schools teacher in her 50's. I washed her windows and helped her redo a bathroom light fixture that she wanted to grace with a different look. I had another bid later in the day, but people aren't saying yes as quickly as they had been the last 2-3 years.

Lord, we need another house to do. A nice big contract. Thank you for all you have done and all you will continue to do for us. Through Jesus we pray, Amen!

Grandpa Plays Ball

2009-07-19T18:31:00.000-07:00

The weather has recovered somewhat during the past 20 or so hours and climbed into the respectable 70s today. Since we had nothing better to do, Grandpa came over this afternoon. After he got here, I heard him tell Evan, "Let's go take a few swings." So they headed out to the back yard.

Now my father, whom I did not really know until he was in his late 40's, was both quick and athletic. He coached basketball in his earlier years and played any number of sports well. He has continued to participate here and there all through his 70's. But for the last few years, every time I watch him play, I become fearful that it will be the last time.

The last time that I will see my dad throw a ball.
The last time that his glove will scrape the ground.
The last time he will yell something like, "Ah, you put the ol' dark one by him!"
The last time the crack will echo from his bat.

He pitched for a while until it became evident to him that he just wasn't finding the zone, so he handed that off to me and headed for the outfield. Evan was hitting well, and the balls were spraying all over our expansive back yard. Fortunately Toby was out there too, but Grandpa is too independent, too energetic to stand and let Toby run for them. Grandpa got most of them himself.

I remember his run, the quick acceleration of short, wiry legs well into his 50s. Just the barest whisper of that is left, enough to make me remember as he hustled for the ball. It wasn't running, wasn't really even jogging. But it wasn't walking, either.

Grandpa rolled most of the balls to the pitcher's mound to save what is left of his arm. He threw one, and again I saw the beautiful and heartbreaking echo of what had been.

After it was over, we sat in the Adirondack chairs near the fire pit and chatted. It was a precious time for me, with almost all of the people closest to me actually closest to me.

We love you, Dad.

Having Read all of Harry Potter...

2009-07-18T19:52:00.000-07:00

Yes, sports fans, I actually finished something. For those that know me, this is probably half "well, sure" and half amusing. I struggle with having 22 projects going at once, and things of secondary or tertiary importance often get abandoned. For example, this summer I pulled out Schaeffer's A Christian Manifesto and decided to pick up where my bookmark was. The bookmark turned out to be a business card for a loan officer who masterminded the loan for my first house, PURCHASED IN 1997. This sort of thing happens to me way too often.

So I am really proud to say that I have read all seven of the Harry Potter books!! I am not to the point of coherent reaction yet, only to say that they are extremely gripping fiction and provided something of an emotional roller coaster during the last few weeks. Also, I was amazed at how well-written fiction and high quality characters yank you into their world. They become so real that you find yourself at loose ends when you're finished with their story.

In general, I liked J.K. Rowling's end to the series and most of her ideas (not necessarily her stated ones in interview, which anti-Harry Potter people keep sending me) but her thematic ideas, taught through the books. I wonder if she's even aware of everything she' advocating. Good stuff, for the most part.

****
Summer rushes by minus one of its most defining elements: heat! We northerners are stunned by the lack of heat, humidity, rain, and sunshine all at the same time. The last few days our temperatures at a time of year characterized by 85 and oppressive have barely climbed out of the 50's! The children and I now have fires in the evening just to keep warm.

In our spare time, the boys are learning how to hit a softball this summer. Evan's a natural... hardly ever misses a pitch, and pitches well enough for me to hit. Aidan and Toby are quite a bit younger, so it's taking them some time get the skills together. One of the most amusing things has been Aidan shagging balls in the outfield (deeper part of our back yard). I play ball with them just like a coach would... plenty of balls with me, and the next ball is pitched before the first one is fielded. So Aidan runs around the outfield, picking up ball after ball and sometimes carrying 4-5 at a time back to the pitcher's mound and then dumping them unceremoniously in the plastic crate that holds our softball equipment. It's just comical how he does it.

Grandpa is also regaining his strength after a nasty hospital visit around the 3-4th of July. The boys and I are hopeful that he will be able to play ball again when he feels better.

Still Reading Harry Potter -- Spoiler Warning!!

2009-07-07T19:11:00.000-07:00

I have now finished book five of the Harry Potter series, much to the joy and amusement of my wife and son, who have completed all the reading... finished all seven.

Through all five books, I have been searching for symbolism, theme, and any other "TIER TWO" information that J. K. Rowling may be attempting to incorporate. There is some, and it begins to take shape towards the end of Book IV.

At the end of that book, Harry returned from the last tri-wizard tournament challenge via a portkey clinging to the arm of a dead classmate whose death he alone (from the school community) had witnessed. That set up an intriguing crisis of belief in his fellow students: Did Harry witness this murder by Lord Voldemort, or did Harry commit the murder himself?

In his last address to the students that academic year, Dumbledore made it perfectly clear that he believed Harry's tale. He raised the alarm that Voldemort had returned and warned the students that one of Voldy's favorite tactics was to divide people who were not worshippers of the Dark Lord. Of course, the Minister of Magic does not want to acknowledge Voldemort's return. He instead devises some conspiracy theory about Dumbledore wanting to take over as Minister of Magic.

In Book V, we are introduced to the Order of the Phoenix, a group whose purpose, directed by Dumbledore, is to prevent the return and empowerment of the Dark Lord. Now, I don't know yet, but the sub-groups of people in the book are eerily similar to people in society. Consider:

Muggles -- people completely unaware of the spiritual dimension of life. Non-Christians in the sense of philosophical naturalists. They are uncomfortable if the magic bumps into them, and seek to distance themselves as quickly as possible.

Death Eaters -- people who get the essence of spiritual reality but who have chosen evil knowingly. They serve the Dark Lord.

Ministry of Magic folk -- appear to me as similar to Christians who close their eyes when confronted with the reality of spiritual warfare. They want things to be "just like they always have been" and would rather have what is easy than what is right. They value position over mission.

Order of the Phoenix -- appear to me as a perfect parallel to what the Christian life should really look like. The people in the order are loyal to each other even when it's not enjoyable because they have a mission that they know is crucial to the future of the wizarding world. It may take great sacrifice to work for the Order, but they know it would be greater sacrifice in the end "to not to".

Dumbledore -- I thought for several books that Dumbledore represented God, but I am moving away from that position at the end of five. The evidence in the earlier books is compelling, though: the long white hair and beard (God is pictured often and inaccurately that way); the name Albus (white); his tendency to arrive just before the moment of disaster and rescue those within his school, the others' tendency to seek his wisdom and yet want to hide from him when they were ashamed of their own choices, his almost omniscient awareness of affairs of their world...

I have abandoned this position in light of events late in Book Five. Dumbledore shows fear and then laments some of his decisions in a protracted discussion with a very volatile Harry. While he maintains his calm and gracious demeanor, it is obvious that he blames himself for Sirius' death and his handling of Harry's prophecy. I learned something, too, from his point about youth and age. Youth, he said, cannot feel what it is like to be aged (since they have not experienced it), but age should remember what it is to be young. Dumbledore blamed himself for forgetting and acting only from the perspective of the elderly. I get it. I've forgotten already in so many ways...

I also admire Rowling's ability to produce angst. Harry's behavior at the end of five does not surprise me, except that her ability to capture disillusionment is so fine. When the heaviness of Harry's situation fully soaks in to him, he is no longer interested in trifles, but he also cannot for the most part enjoy simple joys that others might experience. This whole experience has a rather Frodo-esque feeling about it. The heaviness is almost unbearable.

Discussing Harry Potter

2009-06-17T04:08:00.000-07:00

This summer Tara and I decided to read the Harry Potter series with Evan. He had been wanting to start them, and with all the controversy, it seemed like a good idea to provide parental guidance as we read.

So the standings are like this: I am in the middle of book 4, Tara just finished book 4, and I think Evan is somewhere in book 4. We have a rule applying to him that he can't go any more than one book ahead of us.

At least in the first four books, I really don't think these books are about witchcraft and wizardry. I think the wizard thing is a vehicle for introducing fantasy/amazing events into the stories. All the magic is certainly there, but it seems like it is substituted for ordinary methods, often to humorous effects. For example, Harry and his close friends take classes all day at Hogwarts, the boarding school for magical young people. J.K. Rowling's descriptions of classes, teachers, and the struggles of being a young student are very realistic and often very funny. They just take place over a boiling kettle of gloop in Potions class instead of over a beaker of slime in chemistry.

If I had concerns about the series, they could be summarized like this:

1) Harry and friends are always breaking rules for a perceived good reason. There certainly are good reasons to break rules, but life usually doesn't present them quite as often as these books do. This series gives young readers the idea that there's always a better route than following the rules, talking to the teacher, etc.

2) Harry Potter presents the use of magic as normal and healthy, which it is not, as we know from Scripture. If the magic is seen as fantasy, I doubt it will be a problem. If readers, however, are looking for special powers, then they could be tempted to seek a magical solution to their perceived weakness. In contrast, the Bible is huge on making sure that we seek our strengthening only through Christ, his word, his ways, and his authority.

Beyond that, I think she's a fantastic writer.

Getting Ready For...

2009-06-15T04:43:00.000-07:00

As I crunch down my cereal this morning, I am mostly thinking about things that we're getting ready for. Here are a few of them.

+We're getting ready for a new job today. Friendly Jim's (my painting and outdoor services company) finished a big house last Friday and we're on to something new today. This client asked for an installment plan -- they want to pay once a month until they're finished with the bill. I agreed that they could do this, but it will be interesting to see how it goes.

+ We're getting ready for an ice cream social at our house this Friday night. We want to get to know our neighbors a little better and to see where they are spiritually. If you are a believer in Christ, please pray with me for our event, that it would go well and lead where God wants it to lead.

+ We're getting ready to go on the road. I bought a travel trailer on Saturday from Auto Recyclers. It was made in 1963 but still seems to be roadworthy enough to get us out to experience more of Minnesota and maybe Iowa too. Who knows?

Reflections on Early Summer

2009-06-06T14:21:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I know it's not summer yet, but in Minnesota any day above sixty degrees is summer. Of course, today is only about fifty and rainy, but hey...

We finished up another school year about about two weeks ago. I had no students with incompletes and was delighted to turn in my paperwork and call an end to the year.

I praise God because he is providing business for us just as we have entered the summer cycle of our lives. In some ways summer is more relaxed and in other ways more stressful. It's like I know that I both need to rest and earn, so I can sometimes get torn between the two activities.

Tara took all the children and herself to the dentist last week, so that is where our extra money is headed. At least for now. ;-)

My dad came over this morning to help me install our new storm door on the front of the house. The last one was ripped when we came and a few weeks ago deposited its fibrous insides all over the front steps. That was a clear sign to replace it. So I bought a new SURVIVOR (tm) storm door and set about installing it.

We were doing well until we came to the direction that said "Peel the adhesive backing off the template and place it around the edge of the door 38 inches from the top." Grandpa and I looked and looked, but there was no template, and certainly not one with adhesive backing on it.

So will drilled the holes ourselves with no guide and great courage. And they basically turned out all right. Could have been better, no doubt, but better than no door at all.

We still have to install the hydraulic closer-thinger and the spring-thinger at the top, but we are well on our way to getting between the inside and the outside.

I am almost ready to start traveling greater Minnesota by van or RV or pull-behind camper or whatever. I want to see the places, do the work, and share the Word. It will be interesting if nothing else.

Great Stuff from Aidan

2009-05-22T21:29:00.000-07:00

Maybe two days ago, Aidan came down to my room at 5:45 in the morning. I was on the verge of awake already but not really sure I wanted to get up. He tapped on the side of my bed and I looked at him. "Aidan, what are you doing up already?" I groaned.

He flashed me his brilliant Tater smile and said, "I'm up early so I can spend time with you. I just need some Daddy time!"

Well, you know I got up right away, don't you? Here my precious Tater was telling me that he was willing to get up way early just so he could spend time with me. He had gathered how rushed everything gets at the end of the year and wanted to make sure he got some time with me one way or another. I was touched.

There are some good applications here to make to our relationship with God. We need to seek out the special moments where we can have some "Daddy time" with God. Of course, it isn't God Who's too busy; we are. We get tied up working or playing or something in between. We often forget that Daddy time is what keeps us going strong and in the right direction. I expect that God feels somewhat like I did that early morning -- delighted that we are choosing to spend the time with him.

I learn a lot from Aidan, and I hope to learn more in the future. He is matter-of-fact, funny, and full of wisdom.

Windy Evening

2009-05-12T19:54:00.000-07:00

It is windy tonight. I hope to sit outside later and listen to the wind in the trees. For now, I have grades to record.

It is beautiful here. My children love each other. Thank you, God.

Bits of This

2009-05-08T19:51:00.000-07:00

This evening we took Tara out for Mother's Day dinner. This is much smarter than going out for lunch on Mother's Day because you can actually get a table. We went to Baker's Square, but it was not as tasty as usual. Except for environs, I'm more inclined toward Denny's. The kids were oblivious and ate with abandon. I also ate with abandon, but my chicken primavera was not that good.

I created a new game for the children tonight. Do you remember the Wonder Twins? Wonder Twin powers... ACTIVATE! Form of... Shape of...! Our game begins with at least three participants -- Wonder Triplets, Wonder Quadruplets, etc. All say, "Wonder Triplets... Activate!" The first person leads out with "Form of...[something]." The next person has to come up with something related. The same with the third. Then they all have to be the things they shouted -- together -- at the same time. The audience gets to choose which player's choice shows the least continuity to the others. He then is voted off, and the game continues.

My kids liked it a lot.

I continue to work on my new Latin book for 5-6th graders. It will be called "Rudimentum Latinum" we think and it is due out sometime in July. I'm very excited for this opportunity and pray that the Lord uses it to bless students and enhance their learning.

There are now less than two weeks of school left. That means getting the last assignments of the year graded, end-of-the-year annual tasks, and final exams. This concludes my second year of teaching only Latin and my fourteenth year of teaching at Schaeffer Academy. It is also time to get summer business off the ground.

We are planning to have a garage sale next weekend. Come one, come all. We are out of space in the garage and shed, so some things will just have to go. There are no other options.

Manhood Must Have Been Easier Back Then

2009-05-01T20:38:00.001-07:00

What did you do if you were a man 150 years ago? I suspect that you got up, grunted at your wife, fed the stock, and headed out to the fields. Maybe you fixed some machinery if it was a rainy day. By late morning, somebody probably brought lunch out to you. Then you got behind the team again, made a gutteral noise of some sort, and off you went. Good till dinner, which was also prepared for you. You might have made an effort to relate to your family, but we don't know that for sure.

Now let's talk about masculinity in 2009. First, you teach all your classes for the day, which includes everything from 5th grade to sophomores. You try to do creative things because it gives your students another reason to stay awake. But Friday is a heavy class day, and you have a headache by the end of it.

You sit down at the computer and cram lesson plans for an hour and a half or so. You know that your wife is going to Women's Retreat this weekend, and you will be the primary source of adultness for your many wonderful children. So you must get those lesson plans done efficiently. But a parent stops by and wants to learn Latin pronunciation. You teach her... you are, after all, glad that she wants to learn. A colleague calls your cell twice because he is trying to find the home of someone who just moved. It does not bother you. In fact, it is nice to be regarded as someone who would know how to get it found -- and quick.

The time evaporates. You must pick up your oldest son from Grandpa's house in time to pick up your other three children from a friend's home in distant southwest. You make it only a few minutes late, but it doesn't matter because they are all outside playing in the back yard. You load your children, bring them home, and feed them dinner. They all eat appropriately. There is essentially none left...enough for the cats to nibble some meat scraps, but that's it.

After supper you change your gear and then try to head outside. As you are loading the children in the trailer to go to the park, it is discovered that your daughter has soiled her diaper. You are not dismayed by this, because you are a thoroughly modern daddy in every sense and therefore can change diapers without undue strain. So you do. Your daughter finds herself a different pair of jeans to put on over the diaper. You marvel at this, as you could hardly be expected to recognize a pair of your own jeans, much less hers.

Later on, neighbor boys come over to play with yours. You are happy about this and aware that when these boys come over to play, you have opportunities to introduce Christ to them. You treasure these opportunities.

You eventually put all four of your children to bed and later you blog. Masculinity remix 2009. What a strange time in history.

Late Frost Surprises Gardener

2009-04-28T20:11:00.000-07:00

On Saturday morning, before making pancakes for the children, I headed off to Walmart to get some plants and something else, though I cannot remember what. [Tara says it was Delsum, the amazingly expensive and amazingly effective cough syrup.] Toby and I found some very fine tomato plants and a few flowers and brought them home. Later in the day I worked aggressively and got about half of everything planted. I was pleased.

Back in my childhood, I remember hearing the date "April 15" as the one for beginning to plant in Minnesota. Southern Minnesota, of course, where I have lived for the vast majority of my life. Apparently April 15 is no longer a safe passage for this. Global warming, my nose hairs.

Going outside this morning, I noticed a rather thick layer of frost on my windshield. And on the tomato plants. The top two or three tiers of leaves were completely destroyed... frozen to death. The lowest layer, apparently too close to the soil, seems to have survived. The other flowers I think were pansies and did not sustain any damage. I guess pansies really aren't.

I sat in on a marvelous lit class today not taught by me.

Yanks Survive KY -- no attacks reported. Part 3

2009-04-08T20:05:00.000-07:00

On Monday morning we woke up to find that we were in Kentucky... it's this whole other state. I think we got going slowly that day. During the morning hours, David got out one of his four tubas and we played a few duets with me on piano. The boys may have played out in the backyard somewhat, and the rest of us got acclimated and tried to figure out what to do. Eventually we settled on the Kentucky Horse Park, not too far from our home base in Georgetown.

It was immense and well-kept. It included a museum, something akin to a show area, stables, and innumerable other outbuildings for specific purposes. It was pleasant, but honestly, out of everything we visited, I liked the horse park the least. There seemed to be comparatively few horses on campus compared to the vast number of stables and stalls. We did get a chance to talk to a few of the groom/jockey/caretaker people, but that was about all.

I believe it was that evening that, upon our return to the Bubba's boyhood home, I inspected the tires again and noticed a large screw driven unceremoniously into the center of the driver's side back tire. It was releasing air at a pretty impressive rate. For the second time in two days, I grabbed Bubba and we headed to some form of car repair center. This time it was Goodyear, just a few blocks from David and Susan's home. We were very thankful to God that we did not have to replace another tire; this one just needed a patch for $14.50 and we were good to go. I know Roy the mechanic made up for the money he didn't charge us, because he was working on some vehicles for Everett's parents at the same time. He didn't let them get off for just $14.50. I guess we just got the Yankee discount.

By this time I was pretty spooked about driving anywhere at any time, know that we had to get this vehicle back to Minnesota, and also knowing that there were only two tires left that had not been affected by sharp road-going objects. What's a driver to do?

Yanks Survive KY -- no attacks reported. Part 2

2009-04-06T20:35:00.000-07:00

On Sunday morning I started the day with a shower. While I was showering I became aware that it was dark in the bathroom. At first I thought one of my children had turned off the bathroom light, but I soon came to discover that the electricity had gone out. A horizontal snowstorm in Chicago will do that.

Still we successfully went to church at Everett's church. I was a little groggy but the sermon was about sexual immorality... an interesting combination. The kids reported liking church there... the younger ones had lots of toys available, apparently.

The power came back on and we lunched at the apartment, then packed and set out for Kentucky. As we proceeded south, the weather became less slushy and a bit warmer. The drive through Chicago in the daytime was absolutely amazing. Between the skyline, the immensity of the city, and the many ancient houses crowded next to one another, I was awestruck. I wonder what sort of sewer system serves that community...

Just a little way into Indiana, we hit traffic. We wasted more than an hour doing between zero and 12 miles per hour. Eventually we came out of the traffic and were able to enjoy the Indiana countryside at a more reasonable pace. I discovered that I really like Indiana. Previously I had thought of it as an "also ran" sort of place, but it was very homey and all the people we met were gracious and hospitable. I particularly liked the small farms that dotted the Indiana landscape along the interstate. I'm sure life on them isn't quite as romantic as it appears from the highway, but still it does appear that way. And I have no facts to contradict my impressions. The farms were small, the houses were small, the barns were small. Somehow they must have managed to survive in the midst of all that small.

It was getting on toward nightfall when we hit the Kentucky border. The interstate seemed narrow in places, and I paid the best attention I could to the road and asked God to keep us safe. And He did. We arrived at David and Susan's I think a little before 11:00 Sunday night. It only took a few minutes to get the children situated. We chatted a bit and then fell into bed ourselves.

Stay tuned for Part III, hopefully within a few days before I forget everything that happened!!

Yanks Survive KY -- no attacks reported. Part 1

2009-04-03T20:43:00.000-07:00

We decided to go to Kentucky for Spring Break.

It took a bit of convincing to get my wife to sign on to this idea. We would be taking my best good college friend Everett "Bubba" with us and staying at his parents' home in KY. She knows Bubba pretty well, but had never met his parents. Moreover, we'd have our four precious offspring with us... in someone else's house... for several days!!

We set out uneventfully and in the late afternoon arrived at Everett's apartment in Chicagoland. It was then that I noticed a hissing hole in the driver's front tire. We sprang into action down to National Tire and Battery, getting it dealt with before it went flat on us. The tire was $65, but somehow the labor brought it up to $107 for their 20 minutes of effort. Please.

We all stayed over at Everett's that night, which was just short of impossible ("The difficult we do first; the impossible takes a little longer."). We had all four children packed into Bubba's bedroom and then Tara and I and Everett were sleeping on couch and fouton in the main living area. That is, until Bubba started snoring. He produces an impressive vibration, and even with earplugs, I was not able to ignore the snore. So I packed up my blankets and headed into the bedroom, which, remember, is already occupied by my four children. I picked the only remaining patch of floor and settled down on a mat. I remained asleep until about 2:00 a.m. when Aidan fell out of the bed and onto... me!! Yes, I was sleeping right below the side of the bed, and Aidan is good at falling out of things. There wasn't really room for him on the floor, so I heaved him back up into the bed and returned to sleeping until 5:30, when HE FELL ON ME AGAIN!. Yes, fans, he really did. Vacation sleep. Whatever.

It just gets better from here. Stay tuned for the next installment of "Yanks Survive Kentucky".

Why I Don't Blog Much Anymore

2009-03-17T20:20:00.001-07:00

There was a time when I was very excited about blogging. Tara and I, between us, read several blogs per day and then discussed the contents with each other. It grew our marriage, you know.

Mostly I am not blogging right now (well, I am blogging right now, but you understand) because I have been dabbling in a friend's life who needs my help (and your help) and especially just God to work a few miracles. Since that has been heavy on my heart, and I can't really broadcast his struggles across the internet, I can't write about it.

Also I have discovered Facebook and been amazed to see how many people's lives I can now either observe or affect through this strange form of friendship.

I continue to work on my curriculum. Jason and Ashley met with me for lunch today, and we outlined our plan for the rest of the spring. It is going well so far.

Finally, it is the end of the quarter. Need I say more???

Iron This One Out!

2009-03-03T16:27:00.000-08:00

So we got our tax refund and have been busy stimulating the economy. My wife declared that one thing we needed was a new iron. Our last one I got "off a dead guy". (In my summer business, sometimes a job entails cleaning out a dead person's estate, and I often get to keep some of their possessions as part of the deal.) It is a nice iron, but of late it has begun leaking profusely while you are trying to iron. So I said, "Sure, go get one."

She brought home a lovely box with a picture of an iron on it. I opened the box. Sure enough, there was an iron inside. With retractable cord. Cool. But then I noticed some scratches on the face plate. Strange. I investigated a little further. There were calcium deposits inside the steam vents. I was a little disgusted, but I figured, oh well. Someone must have tried it out and then brought it back.

I plugged it in and nothing happened. This was disheartening. It was then that I noticed the brand of the iron was "Panasonic" and the box said "GE". Some dishonorable sap had apparently purchased a new GE iron, switched the irons, and then returned their damaged one in the new box and gotten their money back. Deceptive but effective.

Then I imagined going back to Wal-Mart and convincing them that I wasn't the one who switched the irons. How humiliating!

Well, my wife did the dirty work and she reports that no questions were asked. I guess it would take a lot of talent to concoct that scheme and then act like the one who's been swindled.

Stuff like this makes you pine for the good old days, whatever they were!!

Pancake Party

2009-02-28T18:44:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been limited lately in what I find to write about. Partly that is because I have discovered Facebook, which takes some time and divides my interests. Partly I have also been writing a Latin curriculum for 5-6th graders and that takes some time also. Also, I can imagine that you don't want to read every gory detail of how each unit comes together. I might be immersed in that kind of stuff, but you don't have to be!

A few fun things have happened. One is the next installment in the little almost-restaurant that I blogged about previously. The owner, Helen, called about a week ago and invited us to come and have a pancake with her on one day that week. We chose Wednesday and arrived at her place around 6:45. There were already two other patrons there, a retired Spanish teacher and an older lady. Helen instructed everyone to introduce themselves and we got started.

I got my pancake first. It was a full-plate-sized creation and absolutely delicious. I was just digging in when Evan's arrived. Helen had made Evan the same pancake, except she used M&Ms and butter to make a face on his. He was delighted! Evan also had coffee with his pancake. Not a coffee drinker myself, I had water.

As we were eating, more breakfasters wandered in. There were eight of us that Helen fed that morning. I learned a few days later that our hostess had her 90th birthday last summer! It seemed almost inappropriate to be served breakfast by a 90-year-old woman, but I guess she's been doing it 60 years, and a few more times wouldn't hurt.

They said we could come back next Wednesday. Evan absolutely loved the experience, and I really enjoyed the sense of community, even though I don't yet know these people too well. I'm hopeful for a rebirth of community in our "neighborhood". Real community is centered in Christ, and I am anxious to see if He will allow some growth in our lives in that area.

Wrong Boy

2009-02-20T18:26:00.000-08:00

I usually get Evan up for school around 6:30 in the morning. My method is to yank the blankets off him, which causes him to stir and then arise. [Evan comments here that he hates that method; he would prefer to be shaken gently.]

Usually he stumbles into the bathroom and we don't see him again for several minutes. This morning I didn't see where he went, so I went about the business of getting my breakfast. A few minutes later I wandered into the living room to see what Evan was up to, and a saw a small boy covered with a blanket on the couch. Only the feet were sticking out. Thinking he had attempted to go back to sleep, I snatched the blanket off in one swift motion. However, it wasn't Evan. It was Aidan, who had come down about 5:00 a.m., snuggled into bed with me, been booted out of bed by his mother, and then curled up on the couch after his eviction.

He didn't quite wake up, but it gave me quite a surprise to find that Evan was in the bathroom as usual and I had almost lambasted Tater thinking he was Evan!

A few posts ago I mentioned visiting the Old Woman Who Makes Sourdough Pancakes. She called this evening to say that she hasn't forgotten about us. This coming Wednesday Evan and I are invited for pancakes at her tiny restaurant (you can only eat there by invitation, I guess). I'm glad that we'll have this opportunity; it feels just the slightest bit like community or neighborliness.

Sunny Saturday

2009-02-14T09:39:00.000-08:00

I woke up early this morning but didn't feel very well. That makes about three weeks straight of various, moderate illnesses that don't keep me home from work, but also don't make me feel sharp and able to make an impact on the universe.

I made pancakes for my family this morning. I usually do that on Saturday mornings. Then my adult children will be able to say, "Dad always made pancakes for us on Saturday mornings."

Tara left a little after breakfast to buy some stuff and then go to a tea party over lunch. Yes, all the children are home with me. I've moved the legos to the living room so I can watch people building.
I've also thought about what to make for lunch, but I will have to go do that soon.

I am reading _The Fellowship of the Ring_ in my spare moments.

I am also catching up with lots of long-lost friends on Facebook. It really works!

Tara Teaches...Latin and Mathematics???

2009-02-11T16:28:00.000-08:00

Anita was sick today, and Tara has her name on the sub list, so after some phone calls and childcare gymnastics, she was free to take Anita's classes.

So Tara has been telling people all day on Facebook and whatever that she taught pre-calculus today, and Latin. Sounds educated, doesn't it? Now, I don't know how much actual teaching went on, but I'm very sure that there was decent order in the classes. Better than most, I know Mrs. K.

On to more interesting subjects... like me! Evan and Aidan and I distributed more (belated) Christmas treats in our neighborhood on Sunday afternoon. Two owners were not home, we had a brief conversation at another place with a young family, and then we came to Lowell and Betty's place. Betty came out to meet us, and the beginning of the conversation was a delight:

Me: Hi, I'm Jim, and this is my son Evan, and my son Aidan. We just moved in.

Betty: Oh, which house did you move into?

Me: The little gray one just over there.

Betty: Oh, my! I'll have to go get my husband! He's been waiting to meet you.

Me: (gulp)

Betty: He saw your tractor. He loves tractors. He notices every time you move it and tells me about it.

So we had a marvelous conversation once Lowell came out. He has a John Deere A or something , and he is very proud of it. Even went back in and got a picture of it to show me.

It's interesting to speculate about what ministry will look like down here.

I turned over the first three units of my new curriculum to one of my sophomores today. J----- is going to serve as project editor; A------ is going to write the historical readings that are to be interspersed with the grammar and vocabulary lessons.

We have much to be thankful for. Soli Deo Gloria.

Why I Wear Vests

2009-02-05T20:28:00.000-08:00

Once I was young. I wore shirts and sweaters. During my first few years of teaching, I noticed that if you get to teaching with energy, a sweater will get too warm. If you're sitting at your desk correcting papers, a shirt by itself will get too cold. The demands of teaching don't leave a lot of time for temperature change.

So I wear vests. I suppose they seem old-mannish and unfashionable, but they handle the temperature factor just perfectly, allowing me to be comfortably warm almost all the time. They also reduce the need for a tie. I am not opposed to wearing a tie, but it does take time to choose one that coordinates and then tie it correctly. And time always seems to be at a premium.

Two of my sophomore students have agreed to help me with the curriculum I'm writing. Since they are just as good at Latin as I am, it is a nice arrangement.

Three fifth graders continue to come at lunch on Thursday to work on Latin enrichment stuff. It's kind of like Math Masters.

Another Cause of the Financial Meltdown

2009-02-04T15:47:00.000-08:00

I went to the bank after school today. I usually go on Tuesdays before tutoring, but I was in a hurry yesterday and so I waited until today. Since my Wednesday schedule is different from the Tuesday, I also went to a different bank branch.

The teller I got, though some brand of African native, spoke English surprisingly well and provided very responsive service. After we finished my transactions, she asked eagerly if I had a credit card. I told her that I did not, since as a matter of something like principle I don't use credit cards. In fact, I have never had one.

She went on to tell me that there was a very good credit card offer waiting for me, which would give me 9 months of zero percent interest! She said I should certainly think about getting one.

Now this is disastrous for at least three reasons:

1) Wells Fargo knows that a credit card will benefit only a tiny percentage of their customers, yet they offer one to anyone who can even remotely be considered solvent.

2) Wafa (the teller) has no idea that she is participating in the financial enslavement of her customers.

3) The U.S. economy is where it is largely because people are in the habit of spending what they have not yet earned -- borrowing from tomorrow to play today.

So I listened politely and then told Wafa that I didn't think I wanted a credit card today. And I went away burdened for the many people who will think that they're receiving a compliment and sign up for that credit card right away.

Evan Seeks Employment

2009-02-01T17:38:00.001-08:00

You know you have an 8-year-old when... he goes out looking for a job? Let me tell you the story.

As many of you know, we moved last November and are now situated off Marion Road, quite a ways from town. About a half mile before our turn, there is a tiny, dilapidated restaurant called "The Grill". It does not seem to have regular hours, but the lights are often on early in the morning. So one morning, a Saturday, Evan and I stopped in to see what it was all about. The lights were off, but the door was open. Inside, we found one of the oldest people in the state, a bent-0ver old woman with train tracks all over her face and a very hunched back. She was accompanied by another elderly woman sitting in a booth.

It turns out that the first woman and her husband founded the restaurant in the late 1940s. Of course, he, being a man, went off and died, leaving her with these buildings and the restaurant. I don't know how long she carried on in the regular way, but now she uses the extra buildings as rental storage and cooks sourdough pancakes to be ready on weekday mornings for a pack of retired teachers. She said she could not make any more pancakes because she doesn't have the strength to do more than one batch of batter.

So Evan had been thinking about this. A few days later, he asked if he could go back and ask the old woman if he could help her. He figured that he would mix the batter and then she'd be able to make two, or three, of however many batches she wanted. We tried to stall him, thinking maybe he'd forget, but he didn't. He kept after the point. So yesterday I drove him back to The Grill and made him go in by himself. His deal, after all.

He was probably inside for five minutes -- long enough for Daddy to wonder if I shouldn't go in and see what was happening. But finally he emerged.

"She said no, Dad. And then she told me why she had to say no. Something about how you make sourdough pancakes. She just went on and on. It was really boring."

Well, of course I was very proud of Evan for seeing a need and trying to help. He didn't really even want any money. He just thought that maybe he could help an old lady who was trying to keep the last shreds of her restaurant alive.

If you need any help...

Spewing Paperwork

2009-01-27T20:29:00.000-08:00

Whoa. I haven't been this swamped since I taught English. Semester grading... seems like every single class I teach got tested within the last two weeks.

I'll be back to blogging when I get some energy or passion for anything. Right now I feel like the living dead.

Obamarama

2009-01-20T16:29:00.000-08:00

Yes, it was an historic occasion. I am delighted to see a black man attain the highest office in America. He is to be congratulated for running a great campaign and capitalizing on the disasters of our nation's recent past.

Yes, some things will be different in Washington. Heaven only knows how different.

Yes, Rick Warren was probably as clear as he was allowed to be in his honoring Jesus. Apparently "Isa" is a muslim version of Jesus and therefore not honoring to the biblical Jesus. However, the tolerance police probably would have demonstrated their intolerance had he prayed any more Christianly.

So, no, he probably shouldn't have accepted the opportunity. It muddles his true beliefs with syncretism.

Yes, I was amused and touched by the Rev. Dr. Real Short Black Guy who gave the benediction. He was humorous, a little down on white people, and obviously a character. However, he also demonstrated that he didn't truly know to whom he was praying. As he is an old man, I'm confident that Almighty God, the King of Glory, will make that abundantly clear to him in just a few short years. Something about not sharing His glory with another or His praise with idols. Still true.

Yes, it will be fun to have children in the White House again. I wish the girls the very best growing up under media scrutiny and the heaviness of their daddy's job.

No, Mr. Obama probably will not lead the nation in the right direction. Big government, social liberalism, and societal meltdown, here we come.

Maybe we shouldn't call it the White House anymore...

The Odd Thing About It...

2009-01-19T19:28:00.000-08:00

Blogging Time. I'll think I'll give an update on the many, many pieces of my life.

Last Thursday I took a friend out for lunch. During lunch Evan and I found out that our friend hasn't had enough money to buy proper groceries. Mindful of James 2, we started to figure out how we could help. I made an appeal at a men's breakfast and a brief comment later, which so far has brought in over $400 to help him. If you'd like to join us in this effort, just get together with me sometime in e-mail or person. The Lord is good and He will provide for the needs of His children.

*******************************

Evan and I have also been playing Monopoly again. This is bad because Evan beats me virtually every time we play. However, we play in the evening, so if I'm really discouraged, I just declare it bedtime and we end the game! Last time Evan called me on it, and I said, "Yep, you've already whupped me pretty thoroughly; it's just a matter of the next hour for you to finish me off. So we're going to skip to the death scene."

*******************************

We had Jayson and Christi over for dinner tonight with their kids. Two large families together requires a lot of table space, so we put two tables in the dining room and lined everyone up. It was a lot of fun and a blessing to see different childrens' approaches to the world.

After they went home, we were cleaning up Aidan and Toby's room when suddenly Aidan went over to his bed, pulled out a broken mini-blind, and said, "Here, I broke this."

Since I was in a pretty relaxed mood (and somewhat tired) I didn't start yelling or any of the other bad parenting behaviors that certainly could happen in a situation like that. I just sat down on his mattress with him and started asking questions.

Me: Aidan, how did it break?

Aidan: Well, I was just pulling on it a lot and then it came down.

Me: Did you not know how to use it?

Aidan: I know how to use the curtains in your room.

Me: The curtains or the blind?

Aidan: The blind. I just know how to use it.

Me: Maybe when we get you a new one, I'll teach you how to use it.

Aidan: I don't think you should get me a new one.

Me: Why not?

Aidan: (sad face) I'm just like a cat with strings. (accompanied by hand motions similar to a cat's paw batting at the strings of a blind.

Me: Oh. I get it.

*****************************

The boys and I went tractor-sledding yesterday again. That is absolutely the best winter sport. The guys love it. Evan and I went all the way from our house to [insert local radio station name here] on one of our runs.

Renewed Sense of Zeal for Ministry

2009-01-11T19:52:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when Kevin goes out of town, I get a chance to preach at our church. Since 2006 I think I've had a shot from the pulpit maybe 1-2 times per year. Most recently I delivered a message on December 28th, 2008. It was an encouragement to approach 2009 as an opportunity to build with God. I finally had the courage to review it online tonight and was happy about what I had said. I didn't say anything too stupid, and I agreed with all the applications! You can listen to my sermon here.

Since this speaking opportunity didn't turn into a memorable disaster, and since I actually enjoy preaching (and since I have a passion for spreading the God's word, God's ways, and God's hope in this world) I've often thought about (logistically) how I could do more preaching. Would that mean going back to school for some kind of seminary degree? Seeing if some congregation somewhere would be interested in me as I am? Serving as a lay minister in a situation where a vocational pastor was unavailable? As you can see, there are more questions than answers in this paragraph.

I think one of the most frustrating things in life is what I learned in econ class to call the "opportunity cost". Essentially, if I do one thing, I have to give up something else because there just won't be time to do them all. For example, I would find it interesting to be a vocational pastor, a missionary in Bible translation, an author, a business owner (I've thought about owning bookstores, restaurants, hotels, B&B's, anything where I vaguely understand the business), a counselor, and a traveling, seminar-giving speaker. For all of these choices I have different specific motivations, but for most of them, the delight is getting the worship of God and the reality of the gospel in front of as many people as possible.

Also at the heart of this internal discussion is the fact that I like my current job and have spent many years building the infrastructure that makes my workload manageable.

****

Evan is into looking for "Christian Worldviews" (as he puts it) in any movies he watches or books that he reads. Sometimes I can't believe how blessed I am as a parent to have children like these who really listen to what you tell them and then try to apply it as quickly as possible. A word of qualification... Evan's not a sophisticated literary analyst yet, and so some of his read-into-the-text attempts seem hokey, but he was able to discern for himself the scene at the beginning of LoTR II where Gandalf is taken by the monster and disappears into the flaming abyss. He perceived Gandalf as a type of Christ in his "death" and descent into "hell". When he reappears, he is clothed in light: no longer Gandalf the Grey, he is Gandalf the White who has triumphed over his enemy. Evan easily recognized the majesty of Jesus pictured through these cinematic masterpieces.

Aidan asked this evening if I would teach him Latin words and if I would please read to him from his Bible. What problems to face!

Toby's wound continues to be... wound-y. He has another appointment tomorrow in which we will see if he has made any progress. Please continue to pray for Toby.

Avery is becoming remarkable in her own way. She understands a lot of what we say and is picking up some mothering traits from Tara (or maybe just instinct...). For example, she heard me talking this morning about not being able to find my gloves or my ear brassiere. She toddled into another room, picked up two non-matching gloves, and brought them to me. Last night when she thought dinner was ready, she planted herself at the top of the basement stairs and yelled, "Boys! Table!" over and over again. Now, she's not that articulate and they aren't that moved by someone babbling at them from the stairs, but Tara and I understood perfectly and were just delighted.

Well, back to school tomorrow morning. Finals start on Wednesday.

End of the Day

2009-01-08T12:45:00.000-08:00

I taught some classes today.

I corrected lots of papers.

I talked to students.

I listened in chapel.

I would like to write a Latin curriculum.

I have nothing more to say.

Record and Scraper-Breaking Ice

2009-01-05T18:25:00.000-08:00

Every few years some kind soul takes pity on me and my miniscule salary and gives me a car. For the past few times it has been my friend Phil. This is ironic because he earns about the same amount that I do. But I digress.

Phil's latest offering was a 1992 Toyota Corolla (he just doesn't like the messiness of selling old cars). Having been raised in a world that melded pastors in black robes and foraging through other people's garbage, I happily accepted. I have been driving it for a little over a year now, and it's not very pretty. The incidents with the skunk and the deer didn't help.

Though we have a two-car garage, I'm not very good at putting all the vehicles inside (refer to upbringing). So when the ice storm hit on Saturday, my Corolla was parked stolidly in the driveway. I had no need to use it on Sunday since I was busy giving the CHEX TALK and trying frantically to grade papers and do lesson plans before school this morning. On Monday morning, I was stunned to discover a layer of ice at least a quarter inch thick welded to the windshield. Evan and I worked at it, but we only succeeded in breaking two scrapers. I stumbled back into the garage in search of better things.

And I found them. Chisels! With chisels in hand, I returned to my ice-sculptured vehicle and began...uh... chiseling away at the ice layer. When I pulled out this morning, there was a 10"x15" aperture on the driver's lower corner of the window. Unsafe? Probably. But I am a persistent little bugger, and the prospect of giving up and switching to Tara's van didn't appeal to me.

We parked in the south parking lot, facing south.

After my fifth grade class today, one young lady (initial "A") came back with a sheet of paper and a question. "Mr. Kluth, I made up a Latin sentence and I wonder if I did it right."

Her sentence said: Avus longus in Europa hiemo.
Now, I'm sure that if her Latin had been accurate, you'd be able to translate. But it wasn't, so I don't fault you at all.

So I began to translate: "The long grandfather...?" I looked at her in amused confusion.

"No, I wanted it to say, 'The grandfather longs to spend the winter in Europe.'"

[This is where you imagine our conversation where I help A differentiate between long as in "not short" and long as in "desire". We were pretty much out of time, so I just grabbed the pencil and wrote:

Avus in Europa hiemare desiderat. (You'll have to imagine a macron over the final "a" in Europa.)

"Oh," she said, in that way you say "oh" when you realize that you don't know how to get where you'd like to go.

Then she tried for a new path. "You know that thing L comes to with you? Is that just for her?"

(See one of my previous posts for context: one of A's classmates sacrifices her recess every Thursday because she wants to learn all about Latin and how to use it as soon as she possibly can.)

So I say, "The only reason L gets to do extra Latin is because she asked. If you want to be a part of that, you probably could, too."

It appears that I may be able to develop another little Latin nerd in the days ahead.

When I left school for the day, the sun was shining and the ice layer had completely vanished.

Everything You Wanted to Know about Chex

2009-01-04T16:29:00.000-08:00

So I went to bed with a stomachache last night and didn't sleep a whole lot. I didn't become badly ill, but some wussy virus attacked me, leaving a headache and strange elimination. I suppose you don't need details of that.

After church we got into something of a discussion about marriage, and I told Evan that if he wanted me to, I would teach him about marriage and related matters. So I was correcting papers in my office around 2:00 and he came in and said, "OK, Dad, you were going to teach me about marriage?"

So we went to his room, flopped down on the bed, and I asked him if he had ever wondered where babies come from. And he said, "Oh, I know about that already."

So I said, "How do you make a baby?"

And he explained in pretty correct detail the female side: ovary, egg, tube, uterus, baby. (Apparently I'd explained this in good detail right after Tara had her tubes tied.) He just didn't realize that Daddies had anything to do with the process. So I asked, "So where does the daddy come in?"

And he looked at me very strangely. And then I explained to him exactly how the daddy is involved in making the baby. After making a face, he said, "Do you have to do that every time you want a baby?"

I explained that it wasn't quite as much of a trial as he perhaps thought it was.
Evan asked a few more very funny things as well, things that you just wouldn't think of if you'd been biologically aware for say, more than 20 years.

But they were great questions and a great discussion. And I explained that God only wants you to do this activity with the person to whom you are married. And then he asked, "So how did [unmarried person Jane Doe] get her babies?"

I almost swallowed my tongue.

Surprise Visitor

2009-01-01T15:15:00.000-08:00

Like most people, I went to high school. Like most people, I've done my best to forget about high school. And then, wouldn't you know, a friend of mine from high school called about 11:00 this morning and said that he was in town.

I was at Walmart South, and he was at Best Buy. I asked if he needed directions, and he said he had the GPS, which made me think of minivan in Cars that told the cars of Radiator Springs, "Don't need a map. Got the GPS... never need a map again." Of course, Terry, being a farm boy from north of the Cities, doesn't have a minivan but rather a 2007 Ford F-1000000 or whatever the number is. Actually, it's probably an F-350, but I didn't look.

So Terry stayed for lunch, told us all his stories from the past few years (we haven't seen him for 10) and then helped us move some mattresses between our house and Grandpa's. Tara would like me to say that she stretched some potato soup so that it fed another eight people for lunch today after it fed eight for supper last night.

I would like to say that it was good to see Terry, and that some of us will probably make a visit to his Wisconsin farm sometime this winter or spring. We'll just have to see where it fits in.

Evan is now reading The City of Ember.

Children's Lit -- The City of Ember

2008-12-31T06:57:00.000-08:00

One of my resolutions for winter was to read more. I had developed a habit of non-reading during my years of teaching English for two reasons: 1) I had to read the curricular novels year after year to be sharp for classroom interaction, and 2) I had to read so many essays and papers that reading for pleasure just wasn't enjoyable anymore.

So I have recently read _Giants in the Earth_ by O.E. Rolvaag (highly recommended) and this morning I finished _The City of Ember_ by Jeanne DePrau.

The City of Ember reminds me a little of The Giver without the deeply dystopian tragedy raging inside. Ember is a dying city. It has a continuously black sky, faltering generator, and flickering electrical lights. It also has a corrupt mayor and a rapidly diminishing storeroom.

The story opens with Lina and Doon, 12-year-old friends who are about to receive their adult assignments. Lina receives Pipeworks laborer, and Doon receives messenger. Doon, a thoughtful boy who fears for the future of the city, asks Lina if she will switch jobs with him because he believes the cure for the city is under the city... somewhere in Pipeworks. Down there is the generator, the source of Ember's electrical power. Lina happily agrees, since Pipeworks is damp, smelly, and dangerous. She enjoys running, and knows that "messenger" is a great job for her.

You have to wait until the end of the book to find out why Ember exists, why the sky is always black, why the city is powered by a generator, and where the people came from. During the course of the book, Lina and Doon discover things that the Builders wanted people to discover... as long as they discovered it more than 200 years after the establishment of the city.

The City of Ember has some marvelously positive qualities. Our hero and heroine are very believable: slightly flawed, but still heroic. They are basically "good kids" confronted by extraordinarily difficult circumstances, and they respond in a magnificent fashion. The story itself is fast-paced and well-written, and answers a lot of its own potential difficulties at the end.

However, it is a post-millenial novel in a lot of ways. For example, no one in the book has an intact family. Lina has two dead parents and lives with an ailing grandmother and a baby sister. Doon has only a father and, as far as I could tell, no other family. By the beginning of the sequel, Doon has become the de facto leader of Ember's citizens at the age of 12. Some adults are good but every adult in leadership is to be distrusted. In that way it has taken on contemporary America's anti-authority mindset.

Another thing that find kind of intriguing but don't know how to take is the novel's treatment of religion/spirituality. There seem to be three sources of authority or transcendence. First is the government/leadership. The mayor leads the community and has guards to protect him. However, he is corrupt and shown to be foolish. The second is a group called the Believers. They tend to approach Ember's probably by gathering regularly and singing in public. They believe that the city's Builders will return and rescue them from their current predicament. I suspect that this is Ms. DuPrau's veiled poke at Christians, since we also sing and we believe that our Builder will one day come to rescue us. The third view, not really a group at all, is represented by Lina and Doon. They too come to distrust the government, and are not Believers, but by hard work and common sense break through the difficulties and arrive in a new world, a world that Lina had always dreamed of in a vague way in her imagination.

I think I would encourage my child to read The City of Ember, but would ask worldview questions and discuss the ideas presented within. If you've read it, please leave me a comment detailing your reactions.

From the Kids' Point of View

2008-12-29T19:49:00.000-08:00

First, a few bits of fun from my dear children, then on to the others stuff:

Avery is beginning to talk for real. She still doesn't string much together, but for the most part she can make herself understood. Here's a quick lexicon:

Suh-side. (adverb) This is where you go after you put your hat and mittens on. Avery likes to go there whenever she can, unless it's too cold.

Hotch. (adjective) This describes anything, especially food, when its temperature is too high for Avery.

Pop. (noun) This refers to any contain that can hold a drink; her attempt at "cup".

Ebba. (noun) This refers to Avery's oldest brother and is usually spoken happily.

Teechee. (noun) The refers to Avery's youngest older brother and is as close as she can get to "Toby".

Cookiecookiecookiecookie. (noun) This refers to the part of the meal that Avery and her father enjoy most.

******************

On to Toby. An exchange with Toby this evening:

Toby: Daddy, did God make you?

Daddy: Yes, Toby. God made me.

Toby: Why?

Tara: [loud, raucous laughter]

Daddy: Did you want the textbook answer?

Toby: Yah, the textbook answer.

Daddy: God made me to glorify him and enjoy him forever.

Another moment with Toby, upon being told that he would need to turn off the movie and go to bed. Toby views bedtime as a personal insult literally every evening.

Toby: I don't like it when people tell people that they have to go to bed when there's still another episode of Diego.

**********************

Aidan asked me to play keyboard for him this evening so he could dance. On one of the songs, I started to sing and coughed a little because I was singing. Aidan quietly slipped away to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water for me. A little later he got another glass of water and set it down next to mind. He looked at me importantly and then said, "This one's mine."

**********************

Evan asked me to come upstairs and look at sports cards with him this afternoon. I don't recall that I ever had a professional athlete's trading card (or whatever they're called) in my entire life. I had very little interest in sports, though I did watch Twins games as a boy and knew the line-ups, etc. So we sat there looking at athletes from football, baseball, and hockey. Can someone please tell me what the appeal is? I love history, biography, and detail, but these seem pointless and repetitive. Maybe it's because I wish professional sports did not exist. Talk about a drain on a society.

**********************

I fired up my tractor this evening and hooked the sled on behind it. It delights me to have a 55-year-old tractor that will start pretty cooperatively in 20-degree weather. We did circles around the back yard until Evan dumped Tater off the sled one too many times and Aidan started crying. Then Evan transformed into "good big brother" and helped Aidan get himself together so they could have more trips around the yard. This is an activity we all enjoy... I love driving the tractor (and having a reason to do so) and they love riding the sled behind. We usually go in the dark to make it a little more intriguing.

Did I mention that I got to preach yesterday? From most people's accounts, it went pretty well, although Bob M tells me that I need to work on my sermon prep because it put Calvin to sleep (Calvin's four, not my fault). You can hear it on line, though I'm always afraid to listen myself because when recordings of myself I feel like I just sound slow and dumb. Tara said it was energetic enough, so that's hopeful.

My dad is requesting prayer for himself. Apparently the trials of widowerhood are getting to him. So please join me in praying for him, that God would grant him peace in the midst of the howling storms of the winter of life. He was 77 last May. Know any spunky widows?

My Peace Lilies and Other Nonsense

2008-12-26T20:52:00.000-08:00

We received some lovely wedding gifts on the occasion of our marriage: December 26, 1998. One of the most unique ones was a large vase filled with crumbled one-dollar bills. But I would have to say that my favorite is the gift of a petite peace lily from an acquaintance named Elaine.

When Elaine presented us with the plant, she explained that it needed moderate light (surely not direct sunlight) and that when it wanted water its leaves would droop noticeably (and she demonstrated with some drama) but after it received water it would perk back up speedily (and she demonstrated with yet more drama).

I never realized the possible lifespan of a houseplant. I still have the peace lily from Elaine. It has traveled with us to four different houses, survived small children and neglect, and bloomed only when it wanted to. Upon the purchase of our second house, the mortgage agent gave us another peace lily. That one, too, has lasted to the time of this posting. A few days after my mother died, I noticed one of the peace lilies working on a single white blossom. I like to believe that it was a symbol of my mother's entry into eternal life.

By the way, is it lily or lilly? I can't remember. Mom had an aunt named Aunt Tilly. She lived to be about 95.

We went shopping this evening at the new appliance place that occupies about half the space that used to be Fleet Farm. They have an absolute boatload of appliances there. I've never seen so many refrigerators in one place in my life, everything from little bitty dorm fridges to colossal commercial ones of stainless steel. The staff said they're planning a grand opening in February or so and that the prices will be even more shockingly low for the celebration.

Our chair arrived from HOM furniture today. Never in my life have I seen such lousy customer service. That would be another blog post in itself.

And finally, Evan was in one of his warm and loving moods this evening. He came down about 9:30 and asked if I was playing piano. I said no, I hadn't been, and he asked if maybe I would play for a while while he was going to sleep, but "nothing too jumpy, if you know what I mean."

I must have the most erudite 8-year-old in the county.

How Not to Run a B&B

2008-12-24T17:50:00.000-08:00

It was just about 10 years ago that Tara and I stood across from each other and declared our love and undying commitment to one another. We got married over the Christmas holiday because I had a nice break from Schaeffer and Tara (who was nannying at the time) also had a school-schedule break.

For this current Christmas break we went to Sioux Falls, SD to visit Tara's siblings and parents, who all live either in Sioux Falls or Sioux City. They were willing to take all of our kids overnight, which gave us a chance to spend a night at The Victorian, an 1888 Queen Anne in the historic district of Sioux Falls.

We arrive and parked out front, carrying our luggage up to the door together. Tara opened the front doors after knocking quietly and we entered the foyer. Behind us another couple was also climbing the stairs. I held the door for them, and they asked if we had labradoodles -- sorry, they meant golden doodles -- for sale. I said I didn't know, since I was just a guest, but that I'd sure find out for them.

In a moment a large golden doodle greeted us, and I figured they must be right. Then the owner came out from the kitchen. She was surprised to find all these people in her foyer, as usually the front door, she said, is locked. She then instructed us to take off our shoes so that we would not get water on the hardwood floors. We went upstairs with her and were given our choice of rooms and a little advice as to what the pluses were for each one. In all this time, there was no hello or introduction of any kind, no warmth, no friendliness. Just business. I have your $65 and now I have to provide you a room.

She also asked if we were going out again and what time we expected to be back in. Just for the sake of her children, you know. Turns out she had a four year old and an eight year old, both girls. The girls were appropriately polite and the younger had a somewhat-developed conversation with us later. But I digress...

After we had enjoyed our anniversary dinner at the Ground Round, we headed upstairs to the sitting room to read. I read _The History of God_ and Tara read _The Traveling Funeral of Whatever the Chick's Name Was_. Strangely enough, while we were reading, a cat wandered in an official sort of way, looked us over for a moment or two, and then wandered out. Watchcat? Apparently.

When we tired of reading, we went back to our room to... well, never you mind. After we were done, we could still hear the 4-year-old running around on the third floor above us. It is now 11:00 p.m. The head of the bed is good deal lower in elevation than the foot, so we take some of the throw pillows and stuff them under the mattress. This has the effect of raising the head (I don't sleep if my head is lower than my feet) and we are able to go to sleep.

The house itself was hands down the largest, finest, and best preserved Victorian I have ever stayed in. It was beautifully decorated and thoughtfully appointed. However, the human part of the B&B formula in this case was sorely lacking. Business, like everything else, needs to be invigorated by the Spirit of God for the glory of Christ, and no amount of good decorating can substitute for a loving heart.

**Tara adds here that we didn't get breakfast, so, actually it was not so much a bed and breakfast, but moreso a bed. ;)

December Blessings

2008-12-18T06:18:00.000-08:00

I'm going to take a moment to write about the Christmas presents I have received so far. Some great, some heart-warming, some amusing.

From the folks who sell us Latin curriculum for the elementary, a CD of Christmas carols in Latin. It's called Veni Emmanuel, and the leader singer has the vox angeli (or vocem angeli for all you purists out there).

Yesterday I got $20 to Panera from the A family. I teach Latin to two of their children.

Also the H family provided a cookie or bread mix. The mother was just in the process of declaring that I would have to take two since I teach both of her children when the daughter quietly reminded her that she (the daughter) was only in 4th grade and did not have me yet. Whereupon they scarfed back one of the cookie mixes.

The Z family gave a beautiful, Christ-centered Christmas card and a gift certificate to Applebees.

The M family gave me some pretzels with frosting on them.

The H family (yes, another H family) gave me some of "Grandma's fudge bars" or whatever. They were extremely rich.

Drs. B, E, and W gave me back my Toby in mostly one piece. Toby had his submandibular gland infection drained and bandaged under general anesthesia yesterday. All is well so far, but we have to clean and pack the wound 2-3 times per day until it heals.

The God of the Universe gave me a relationship with Himself through faith in His Son. That is the best December blessing of all.

Fit to Be Treed

2008-12-06T19:22:00.000-08:00

I believe I'm more ready for Christmas than usual.

For starters, I've been reading the gospel of Luke to the boys, so we are already witnesses of the glory of Jesus' incarnation. I'm reading it to them in a version that is something like a dynamic equivalent for younger children, though it is not a "children's Bible story book" per se. It works pretty well for the age range that hear it.

Also, I'm preaching on December 28. This alone gets me in a reverent mood -- I typically start to prepare a message about a month in advance, and I have the luxury of doing so, since I am not a pastor. Usually I preach a max of twice a year, though I did give a Christian worldview seminar this fall as well. Busy year, you know.

Finally, the Christmas tree is up. I would like to say a word about the struggle to achieve a completely vertical Christmas tree in my home. For years we have stored our artificial tree fully assembled (in the off-seasons) in our unfinished basements. We put a sheet over it and call it good until the next Christmas season. When the move came last month, I picked up the tree to carry it to the truck. One of the feet fell out and clattered to the ground. I put it back in, and it fell out again. So I tossed it into a plastic bin and replaced the lid.

That was a sorry mistake.

At the moment of tossing, I said, "I'll remember which bin and put this back together as soon as we're settled in the new house." Not so, my friends. In all the chaos and surprises of moving, I have only the vaguest recollection of what sort of box might have received the foot. We've opened lots of boxes and no foot is there.

So we checked out freecycle. Someone offered a Christmas tree stand, I drove all the way to Country Club Manor (the west edge!) to get it, and it turned out to be a large and beautiful stand for a real tree. Our artificial would not have had the slightest chance verticality.

Then Melanie said she had a stand. Same thing. Lovely stand, for a 12-foot tall tree. The days continued to tick by.

Finally Tara needed some time A.K. (away from kids), so she went to her favorite haunts. She finally called from Walmart:

"OK, tell me what to do. They have a stand for seven-fifty, a six foot but skinny tree for $20, or a 7-foot pre-lit one for $45. The have a four-foot one, pre-lit for $18.88."

So I thought for a minute. I figured pretty much everything except the stand was, ultimately, a waste of money. So I said, "Just get the stand. I'll find a hacksaw and hack off the base on the old one. Have it done before you get home."

And that's what I did. I grabbed a hacksaw, took the tree down to the laundry room, laid it across the washer,and sawed the attached plastic base (sans foot) off, and brought the rest of the tree back upstairs. We assembled the new base, slid the tree carefully into the hole, and voila! We are properly treed.

Thanks to Mary G., one of our fourth grade teachers, who came this afternoon with her spiffy carpet-shampooing machine and cleaned our carpets. For no charge, adds Evan, who is leaning on my shoulders even though he ought to be in bed. Good night, everybody.

Hard Times in the Neighborhood

2008-11-30T18:29:00.000-08:00

In older literature you often read of people who have fallen on hard times. Or say, a homestead has fallen on hard times. It hasn't been kept up and the disrepair is disheartening. So don't read this week if you're already feeling faint of heart.

Our thanksgiving break was (I think) the most difficult entire break we've ever endured. Most breaks really are that, a break from the mundane or the struggle to keep up with your paperwork and your love for your students. This one was grossly the opposite.

Monday: Toby wakes up with a swollen side of a face. Other than that, he is not affected.

Tuesday afternoon: Tara calls. I must take Toby to the doctor. His face has become more grotesquely swollen. Dr. Arndt says it is a submandibular gland infection. Toby endures a blood draw (very patiently) and a anti-biotics shot on the front of his leg (not so patiently). But Toby and I understand each other very well, and the horror of this lessens quickly. Avery also begins throwing up after lunch on this day.

Wednesday: The first day of break. We continue to try to find our home after the move. Still in mind is the desire to visit Tara's family in South Dakota. However, we figure that maybe this is a bad idea. Toby and Avery both seem better today.

Thursday: 12:20 a.m. Tara says, "My stomach hurts." A few minutes later she proceeds to the bathroom. Her vomiting is so loud and uncontrolled that after the first round I retreat to the basement and sleep on the couch. She is up most of the night; I get a somewhat painful back from my resting position.

Tara sleeps away most of Thanksgiving. When I go up to get Avery, I find her covered in vomit. I take care of the children pretty much all day. We have pancakes for lunch and pizza or something for supper. By dinnertime Tara is perking up instead of puking up. Still it is a tough thanksgiving, one that Evan dismisses as disappointing because of the lack of thanksgiving feast.

Friday: Toby greets this day by joining the party of people who have tossed some cookies this break. We find him covered in vomit and screaming. However, he perks up quite rapidly and accompanies me to the doctor's for a recheck. The doctor pronounces the anti-biotics a success, declares him a victim of stomach flu, and sends us on our way. He also claims that Toby will throw up at least one more time, which he doesn't.

Tara makes the feast also this day. Though we can't have anyone over because of the illness, and though all of us aren't able to eat it, she makes the feast. It's really good, including the turkey, cranberries, and stuffing.

Later that afternoon, it is noticed that Avery still isn't any better, so Tara takes her in for urgent care. Turns out Avery has an ear infection and the stomach flu. It is one of Avery's particular talents to get more than one illness at the same time.

Saturday: Avery is whiny and uncooperative. She doesn't throw up so much, but still is not a cheerful participant in anything. I try to correct papers and referee the boys, who are getting crazier as the days without change drag on. I go to Katherine's Christmas Opener alone, as Avery is still unwell and can't be taken to anyone else's house. Evan and Aidan have a great time playing over at Tucker and Parker's house during the Christmas opener.

Sunday: 3:43 a.m. I wake up with a painful-feeling stomach, and yep, you guessed it. Though I typically don't throw up, instead I spend the next hour-plus on the toilet clearing my intestines completely. By morning I can sleep again but have no energy. Ken Sell graciously agrees to take my adult class. And when Tara goes up to get Avery, she is once again lying in a pool of her own vomit. We are utterly perplexed.

No one goes to church, in fact, no one leaves the house except for Evan and Aidan, who go across the street to meet one of our new neighbors, and old man who is out shoveling. They both pronounce him "nice" and say that his name is Roger. Oh, and Tara hits Walmart for a pre-mega-freezer-cooking-session shop-a-thon.

In the afternoon I read the Bible to the boys, correct papers, do lesson plans (every paper graded, every lesson planned for the first time in weeks), and read Giants in the Earth by O. E. Rolvaag. Wow, can I identify with this early 20th century novel. Maybe I'll have to blog that sometime.

Tara and I have been talking about facades lately, and how most of us keep them as unspotted as we can. For myself, I disagree. Yes, I would like you to be impressed with me. But I am as hard on myself as anyone else would be. I would love to say a few things that I haven't, and only haven't, out of respect for Christ. It is a continuous battle.

When God Made You, He Threw Away the...

2008-11-26T15:51:00.000-08:00

Mole. That's right. And we found him today. Evan and I were out cleaning gutters for a client this afternoon. Just as we finished, I spied the small, furry, frozen body lying on a sidewalk. It turned out to be a perfectly preserved mole. Apparently he had frozen to death between the two houses. No predator had as yet attempted to make a meal of him, so we picked him up and put him in the van. Wisely, we did not show him to Grandpa, who would have lectured on infectious diseases and the foolishness of his son and grandson.

On the way home, we stopped by the bank to do some depositing. Since we had the trailer attached, I decided to use the drive-through. As we pulled up, Evan was quiet for a moment. I reached out the window and got the carrier. As I was opening it, Evan said, "Let's send her the mole."

We were laughing so hard we almost couldn't do our banking.

*** *** *** *** ***

Well, no, we didn't send her the mole. I knew you were wondering.

I would like to say a few words about the play that we performed last weekend at Schaeffer. It was a real treat to see lots of Bereans there, mostly to support Chris in his title role of Illinois Pete. The plays went pretty well with just a few glitches. One major glitch on Friday night was indirectly my fault. We were kind of short staffed, so only Alexandra and I were back working the technical controls (I always do sound because I'm most familiar with the show and most familiar with the sound board.) We were nearing the end of Act I, which ended with the darkness and flashlight beams coming on stage and Chris diving between them and yelling "gotcha!".

I sent Evan up to the corner of the gym with the instructions to turn on the house lights as soon as he heard Chris say "Gotcha!" But when we went to blackout before the flashlight beams, the audience started clapping heavily, and he thought he'd missed it. So he put the house lights up before Chris got to say the line. Jared came out anyway to do the beaming (it was plot essential) and I guess most of the audience wasn't too troubled anyway. So thank God that we had another successful play weekend.

Change, Our Only Constant

2008-11-13T20:18:00.000-08:00

I did not realize that life keeps getting harder as you get older. I begin to have a hunch that old people die not (always) because their bodies wear out, but because their souls wear out. They simply do not have the oomph to keep on fighting.

We have had a beautiful and difficult move. It was beautiful because of the kind help of so many people. It was difficult because of unexpected, last-minute real estate hassles. A perfect closing is very rare, so our realtors say.

I would like to say here that I fought Tara for a long time about the new house while we were in the process of buying it. I thought that it cost too much money, it seemed kind of cramped, and I wasn't convinced about a few other factors. Once we got in, I realized that I had been wrong and apologized for that. It is a good house, and we probably either didn't overpay, or didn't over pay by too much. I'm not sure yet.

Ooh, ooh, everyone!! The play is only about a week away. The kids have worked very hard, and though we still have final details to work out, I feel confident of a good show. Please join us next Friday at 7:00 or Saturday at 2:00 p.m. Tickets are available through the school office or can be purchased at the door starting half an hour before show. Illinois Pete is an action-oriented show and is suitable for the whole family. Well, maybe not pre-schoolers, but everyone 5 and above.

Parent conferences came and went this evening. They were all enjoyable and relationally productive.

Post Election Trauma

2008-11-05T16:19:00.000-08:00

I considered wearing black today, but fought off the urge. Then I arrived at school and found two of my colleagues had had the same idea and actually carried it out. I love symbolism.

The students were very calm and academic today, unlike yesterday. Hmmm.

Meanwhile, the Republican Party needs to figure out if it believes anything. What are we about, anyway???

Here's a shout to Michelle Bachman and her victory over Elwyn Whatshisname.

And also my hope that the recount turns out the same as the count. Senator Coleman squeaks through again.

Cycle of Life Continues

2008-11-01T19:42:00.000-07:00

First quarter ended yesterday amid much hooplah and a blizzard of impending paperwork. Of course there is also the blizzard of packing, the blizzard of parenting, and the blizzard of finishing up the play. So I feel pretty much like someone who ought to be exercising extreme self-discipline but can only manage a modicum of just hangin' on.

We packed more this morning. Due to the kindness of our colleague-in-law Tim, we have a moving truck actually parked on our property. So we've been loading regularly and waiting for our expected close on November 7. Evan asked last night if we could just call off the whole deal and not move. I said that would be pretty difficult at this point, since we'd given numerous people our word and signed some documents as well.

A few other drama people and I worked on the set of _Illinois Pete_ this afternoon. We were very blessed to have the location of doors and windows in the set be just about precisely what this script ordered. The result has been minimal crew effort with maximum results. I've mixed a little paint (fun making new colors) and rolled a few flats myself. It's been a long time since I've actually done set-building.

See you in church tomorrow.

Just Random Stuff

2008-10-23T16:49:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry that there isn't an overriding theme for this post.

Avery is standing next to me right now holding a light saber. She is a very well-balanced young lady.

Evan is helping his mother clean up the kitchen. Aidan and Toby are torturing each other.

My father believes that the elections are rigged and that our country is controlled by money interests and international banks who are seeking the advent of one-world government. He would not mind me telling you this.

School is fine except for about two of the 155 children I teach weekly. I took a very firm stand against some attempt-to-control-the-teacher behavior today and probably did some major damage to my reputation as a cheerful and emotionally stable person.

My leadership team for the play continues to do well. I am really appreciating how everyone has been stepping up and leading without being asked.

I am tired of rudeness in people. I have been the victim of a series of rude behaviors in recent days. Please join me now for a little lecture on manners.

#1: If you are in a conversation and someone (like, say, ME) approaches you, do not stand there and continue your conversation as if I do not exist. Clearly I do exist and I need to ask you something. I will be brief, and you can return to your previous conversation momentarily.

#2: If you have a request to make of me that is highly irregular and most people wouldn't even attempt to make, make it apologetically. I will refrain from calling you out if you are already apologetic.

#3: If your child is not doing well (and has a history of not doing well), do not wait until one week before the end of the quarter to contact me. And do not call at 6:00. We are eating dinner and I am trying to pay some attention to my own family. I have been paying attention to your family all day.

If you suspect that you are one of the people that I'm referencing, fear not. I have already forgiven you and just wanted to vent a little and make the world a better place. I still like you. I still will treat your child fairly. Most of the time. ;-)

Our house deal I think is almost done. We have almost all of the details worked out, including how Jay and Emily and we are going to get their stuff out here and our stuff to our new home in "rural" Southeast. I'm hoping for a pleasant winter in a snug new home. Of course, I may not know how to act there.

Why Fifth Graders Are Hazardous to Your Health

2008-10-13T18:04:00.000-07:00

I've taught for a long time now. By my count I have led almost 12,000 class periods on one topic or another. You would think that it would be easy by now.

In some ways, it is. I am not challenged at all by the basic premises of teaching. There exists some truth which I wish to impart to the students. There also exist a variety of methods by which I can get said truth into the students. For the most part, I am successful.

So the fifth graders (all of them together) came in for their class today. I divided them up into teams for an opening game, and it went quite well. Then there were a few kids who had to retake a vocab quiz because of a mistake that I (not they) made last week. So I sent them out to the hallway to accomplish this feat. While they were quizzing, we inside were going to correct lesson 6 in their worktexts. Six of the students volunteered to correct two books at the same time. This went all right until the rest of the 5th graders began finishing their quizzes and trickled back into the classroom. Not wanting them to feel left out, I tried to redistribute books to correct as they continued to return. Soon this became difficult to manage. We didn't finish correcting until four minutes before the class hour ended. This did not give us enough time to put scores into the computer before they went back to class or practice any real skills.

So I sent back the 5th graders to their homerooms, having told them to leave their texts out on the tops of the desks. Of course I had another class coming in immediately who helped me get the stuff managed, but not until I had wasted ten minutes of their class time in doing so.

But the simple truth is, you just cannot rush a group of 25 fifth graders any faster than they happen to go. Though they are well behaved and basically cooperative, they are fifth graders. And that's that.

We are in rehearsal with the play. I had fun picking on one of my leads today who backed her parents' van into her friend's parents' Jetta on Friday night. Her little brother ratted her out during Latin 7 this morning. I spect that she will kill him before tomorrow.

Yes, we do academics at Schaeffer also. I knew you were going to ask.

All right, I saw the cutest thing this morning. We have a new teacher this year who is in his 40s (I assume) and absolutely immense - not fat - just extremely large. Besides lit and biology, he teaches kindergarten PE. As he and the kindergarteners were heading outside, I heard one little girl say to him in the coyest voice, "Do you notice anything different about me this morning?"

He replied, asking her if her headband was new.

I didn't hear the end of the story, since they went outside, but I knew that she was delighted with the attention.

More Latin, Please!

2008-10-08T08:39:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I got an email from a fifth-grade parent. This is not unusual in itself, but the direction was. Paraphasing, it basically went like this: "Latin is my daughter's favorite subject. She wants to learn all she can about the language and how to use it. What else can she do or be involved in?"

Now, I sponsor a bi-weekly Latin lunch for scholars, nerds, and other interested in taking their Latin to the next level. Several sophomores and one freshman come to that. High school students.

But here we're talking about a 10-year-old.

So I consented to meet with the child. She has Latin with me two times a week, and I'd noticed that she was exceptionally bright and interested, and if I said anything remotely interesting or novel, her eyes would light up and she'd write it in her notebook. Here's an abridged transcript of our conversation. "Magister" is teacher in Latin and "discipula" is student.

Magister: So your mom talked to me a few days ago. She said that you really like Latin, and that you want to do more Latin than you're doing now.

Discipula: [embarrassed smile, nods]

Magister: Tell me what you'd like to learn how to do.

Discipula: I'd like to learn all about Latin and how it works, how you change the endings on the words and what they do. I want to be a scholar when I grow up. [big,radiant,dazzling smile]

Magister: Did you want to know more about the history and culture of ancient Rome, too?

Discipula: No, not so much. Just the language, mostly.

Magister: Well, I think you found the right person.

So I get to figure out how to turn a very willing and talented 10-year-old into a Latin scholar. Amazing. What a journey this year is turning out to be!!

Dystopian Children's Literature

2008-10-04T18:44:00.000-07:00

I've decided I would like to write some dystopian children's literature. This thought occurred to me while I was reading a lovely children's book to Aidan and Toby before bedtime. For as many years as I spent teaching English, I really don't read to my kids that often. So they were eagerly snuggled around me, listening to the story of a library that was about to close. Apparently it needed a new roof and new paint. So the children checked out books called _How to Roof in Perfect Lines_ and another one called _How to Paint a Library_ or some such rot. And then they read by day and they read by night. The next morning (YES, THE NEXT MORNING!) they got to work roofing the library and painting it a lovely buttercup yellow. BUTTERCUP YELLOW? HELLO! Buttercup Yellow is an interior only color because gentle exterior yellows fade unevenly. They didn't have to pull any work permits, no one on the library board was consulted, and apparently paint and shingles are free.
The story continued like this, with challenges put in front of the youthful library users Skunk, Mouse, Mole, and Raccoon. Of course Miss Goose, the librarian, had nothing to do with the solutions; she only helplessly recounted the problems.

Finally the library ended up in Old Beaver's meadow, where all the children came to enjoy its endless supply of interesting and educational books, and where Old Beaver and his grandson arrived every afternoon after they had finished their nap.

If you would like some truly dystopian works for your children that present the world as it is and no more, leave me a comment. Maybe I'll write one over Christmas Break.

Speaking of dystopias, we bought a house sort of back in town. It's off Marion Road and theoretically has everything that we as a family are looking for. My wife thinks it is the best thing since indoor plumbing. Myself, I'm just hoping that it will continue to have indoor plumbing. (The house is in a transition from well and septic to city water and sewer; the lines have been brought to the house but not actually hooked up yet.)

I took a full trailer of junk to the dump today. Toby was my labor companion, and we did great work together getting rid things that our previous owner in her generosity had left us.

Grandpa came out today to work on the tractor with me. While we were not able to fix it, we did discover more about the problem. If we had a little more understanding of the factors involved, we might have solved it. Old tractors are not particularly complex.

Slogging Through

2008-09-30T06:13:00.000-07:00

Years ago I promised myself that I would try to slow down a little. I believe that was just before I turned 30. For the most part I have not succeeded very well in this quest, although changing my teaching load from English to Latin cut a lot of the correcting, especially of essays and other non-objective blather.

The past couple weeks have been inordinately busy. We have been aggressively house-shopping, reading scripts for the fall play, entertaining relatives, having birthday parties for Evan and Aidan, teaching adult classes at church, teaching the regular class load at Berean, finishing summer outdoor services work, and delivering a two-session Christian worldview seminar. Oh yeah, and I hit a deer with the Corolla about a week and a half ago.

The play I finally picked was _Illinois Pete_, which I think will do well for our cast and school community. It is a mystery/adventure/comedy set in a girls' private school. We are performing, Lord willing, on November 21 and 22, so set aside some time on your calendar! Friday will be an evening performance and Saturday, a matinee.

My high school leadership team this year is just stellar!! I'm really excited about the kids involved and the variety of talents that they will bring to the drama program. We started off our rehearsal (first rehearsal) yesterday with a discussion of 1 Cor. 12:12-26. I just asked one question: How does this passage apply to a drama program? The answers I received were terrific. They really got it.

Some of you readers may remember a sermon I preached last fall about two apple trees in my front yard. One was lush, green, and gorgeous, but completely without fruit. The other was almost dead, but had one good-sized branch absolutely loaded with apples. I made the application to our lives as believers, talking about how we may look nice, but if there's no fruit, how useful are we to the kingdom of God? In contrast, the scars of time and sin may be all over us, but if we bear fruit, we demonstrate that we have received grace and are beautiful in God's sight.

Both apple trees have experienced changes since I preached this message. The old, uneven, hideous tree fell over in a windstorm this summer. The green part remained green while the tree lay on the ground for several weeks. It was an interesting testimony to staying connected to the source of strength through any circumstances. I finally cut it up and put in in the barn.

The other apple tree, Evan noticed a few days ago, had produced fruit. Two apples. Two large, gorgeous apples about 20 feet off the ground. We got an extension ladder, put it against the branches of the tree, and Evan climbed to the top and harvested the fruit. Not am I thankful for a tree that listened to my preaching (!), but I also celebrated having a wise and courageous son who truly will be like a tree planted by streams of water.

If you would like a meditation on the financial crisis in the U.S. today, read Psalm 60 and reflect on it.

Old One Hundredth

2008-09-24T18:59:00.000-07:00

According to the blogger tracker thinger, this is my one hundredth post. It reminded me of a hymn tune title simply known in the old Lutheran hymnal as "Old Hundredth."

So I have enjoyed blogging. There's been plenty of activity, but it seems so cyclical to me that I don't know if any of it will be of interest to you. How's that for confidence?

I have chosen the play for this fall. We're doing _Illinois Pete_ by Dan Somebodyorother. I think it will fit my potential cast well and showcase their talents. Casting starts tomorrow, meaning it will be a busy day.

We lost one of the houses we were shooting at (bank decided to work with another offer) and so we put in an offer on a different property. I am somewhat encouraged and somewhat ambivalent. If we get this property, we will be near the top of what we should pay for a house, but we'll get lots of bedrooms, a solid house, a double garage, and a full, fenced one-acre lot. Greg submitted the offer to the seller's agent today (or at least I assume he did).

I made a fire tonight in our fire pit and quizzed my boys on theology. They are pretty good amateur theologians, except Toby thinks that there are three gods in one person. I also began to teach them how to pray for each other. It was good.

My wife is packing everything in sight. I believe this should be called "unnesting". I am not a natural packer and cannot bring myself to start something like that early. That, and I am exhausted a lot of the time.

The new glasses from Shopko are quite nice. Turns out you don't need the high index plastic for $3 million after all.

I'm going to go sit in my green chair now and dream of eternal life.

A Comment on Business Ethics

2008-09-17T18:36:00.000-07:00

I have been dealing with an inordinate number of business people lately. Most of them are decent folk who care about their clients, but some contemporary business practices make me angry. I'm going to shed a little light on one in hopes that these kinds of business practices will be shamed into going away.

My frustration concerns eyeglasses. In the spring of 2006, I had an eye exam and bought a pair of glasses from Shopko south. I went there because the eye doctor had been recommended to me. He turned out to be a great opthalmologist, and I was very pleased with the glasses. However, I had an accident with a ladder this summer that led to the weakening of the glasses. A few days ago when I was working at the computer, I adjusted the glasses and the bows snapped off completely.

So I took the pieces and went back to Shopko south. Here is what I discovered:

1) Since the prescription was over two years old, they could not make me a new pair of glasses.

2) Since the frame is now outdated (two years old!) they could not order me a new frame and put the lenses in that frame.

3) They were unable to locate any match bows or in fact any bows that would even replace the broken ones so the glasses would stay on my face.

4) The technician lost one of my broken bows in her attempt to find a match for it.

So, because I liked the doctor, I scheduled another eye exam. I was told that the eye exam would be covered by our insurance, so I didn't worry about it. When I was already in the exam room, the doctor asked me if I would like an exam for contact lenses as well. I said that I assumed they were one and the same. "No," he said. "It's apples and oranges."

So I figured I probably needed the contact lens exam and said sure, go ahead. He never said a word about a separate charge for the contact lens exam. I learned about that when I visited the technician/sales clerk at the optical register. He explained that the glasses exam was covered, but the lens one was not.

Then we went on to choosing glasses. I picked a frame and began to ask questions about lenses. The tech told me that we'd get high-index lenses because of my prescription. I asked if there were any other lenses available. I practically had to drag out of the technician the other types of lenses and the prices of them. He had just assumed he would choose the most expensive product for me.

I submit that these business practices, besides being shoddy and perhaps borderline dishonest, are also insensitive to the poor. So is the rule that requires an eyeglass prescription less than two years old to have a pair of glasses made. It is yet another example of regulation not helping but hindering the low income.

I have politely kept my mouth shut for a long time. However, I am about to that age where I am tired of sitting quietly and politely. Nothing changes unless people of faith and ethics speak clearly about the issues that affect our lives and our society.

A Quiet Saturday

2008-09-13T19:03:00.000-07:00

School has started with a vengeance. That doesn't mean it's been bad, just intense. The Latin instruction to give, the new kids to catch up, the unmotivated kids to frighten, the chapel music to prepare, the lunch meetings to lead, and the parents to befuddle... I mean, to inform. On top of all this, the house really does seem to be mostly sold (go, Jay and Emily!!) and so we're house-hunting with real intentionality. We went out with Greg last evening again and looked at a couple. While I still do think it is a buyer's market, it is getting tighter again. The incredible deals at the bottom of the heap are perhaps not quite as incredible anymore. But I continue to hold out hope that God will bring us something amazing (or at least adequate).

So I had fully intended to spend a little time at home this morning and then look at properties again in the afternoon. But Tara thought that was an unnecessary endeavor ("Why should you waste all that gas to drive into town when I'm already here?") so I stayed home with all of my boys. We had a very quiet day.

Around 9:30 we loaded up trash and headed to the dump. Except for a steady drizzle falling while we recycled, it was quite uneventful. The boys played Legos a lot and helped out with this or that when asked. And I plowed through significant amounts of paperwork and administrivia while taking care of three fellers under age 8.

Tara came home about mid-afternoon from the garage sale and we renewed the discussion about houses, children, fall classes starting tomorrow at church, and real estate agents who either do or don't accomplish much at all.

As I was putting the boys to bed tonight, a hymn that I had learned early in my childhood came back to me. I'm going to type the lyrics for you here, partly because they are beautiful, and partly because I'm proud that my brain has held them largely without use for more than 25 years. I think my mother used to sing this simple hymn without provocation. She sang a lot until the cancer got into her vocal cords and made it difficult to sing without coughing. I still grieve. I'm sorry. Here it is.

Oh, that the Lord would guide my ways
To keep His statutes still;
Oh, that my God would grant me grace
To know and do His will.

Order my footsteps by Thy word
And make my heart sincere;
Let sin have no dominion, Lord,
But keep my conscience clear.

Make me to walk in Thy commands
'Tis a delightful road;
Nor let my head or heart or hands
Offend against my God.

I may have mixed around the order of the verses or a word here or there, but I think I got the gist of it. It's funny how I can celebrate the present while simultaneously grieving the loss of how things used to be. See Ezra 3:12.

Revisiting My Childhood

2008-09-10T17:21:00.000-07:00

Most of the memories that I can drag out of my childhood would be pretty unremarkable, but I have enjoyed revisiting some of them lately in the form of my son's new reading interest.

Evan came home from school stoked about Encyclopedia Brown stories. It seems that his teacher reads the class an Encyclopedia Brown mystery every day just before dismissal. The students listen to the mystery and then try to guess the solution.

This created a nice connection between Evan and me because I also read Encyclopedia Brown stories as a boy and I actually remember most of the stories, but not most of the solutions. So Evan reads me the story as we drive to or from school, and I try to figure out the mysteries. Most of the time I still get them wrong, but at least we're having fun together.

I'm trying to get Evan to blog about his experiences with literature.

Brief Comments on Media, Movies, and Me

2008-09-05T20:33:00.000-07:00

It is Friday evening. You can tell my life is a thriller because I have time to blog.

First, a word about thrills. I am not a thrill-seeking personality and am really quite content with the fact that pretty much nothing thrilling happened today. Nothing disastrous happened either, so I have been given the gift of one more day.

Uncle Roy is still in the hospital, having had a nasty run towards gallbladder surgery. He had the surgery yesterday, but since there was infection involved and other nasty internal symptoms, I don't think he's quite out of the woods yet. The boys are learning to not just like Uncle Roy but pray for Uncle Roy.

I began to teach Evan and Aidan about the ACTS of prayer this evening. They both looked at me dumbfounded when we talked about confessing sins. They figured that they'd done confessing a long time ago and that there was no continuing need for contrition/repentence in the life of a believer. Wow.

Tara finally watched the end of _A Prairie Home Companion_ with me tonight. I like most of the folk music and great talent that appears across its regular, real stage. In the movie version, they've created fictional sisters, Rhonda and Yolanda Johnson who sing about their Minnesota home and the love of their mother, aunts, and uncles. With these two they created a pretty effective balance of comedic and dramatic. So I sit there with the tears slaloming down my face, not bothered in the least by them because I know the themes they sing about so well: the love of the earlier generations, the joy on my mother's face when I'd play the organ for her, the realization that the earlier generations, and indeed our own generation, won't be on this earth forever. And the most tragic of all: I did not recognize those days as good days, or did not recognize what was especially good in them. We should have stockpiled more than $1.27 gasoline.

I finished reading Alan Jacobs' masterful biography of C.S. Lewis a few days ago. The book in entitled _The Narnian: the Life and Imagination of C.S. Lewis_. As you may have guessed, I have read quite a bit about Lewis, his friendships, the Inklings, and his lectures, but I gained a new perspective on Lewis from Jacobs. A brilliant and unusual man, Lewis was also haunted by the same frustrations that plague all thinking people. One might not hold up all of Lewis' life as the example to follow, but I think I still rightly regard him as a hero. There is plenty to admire and imitate. Definitely a superior read... thank you, Everett. I'm always in your debt.

Scripture writers sometimes petition the Lord, "Remember not the sins of my youth." That is probably because they were gross and glaring, even to the eye of sinful man. I think the sins of middle age are much more insidious. If a sin of youth is akin to a man swinging an axe and destroying a board, a sin of middle age induced rot into the board so that it becomes soft, soggy, and just as worthless over a long period of time.

Apathy is one such sin. I can see how middle aged persons will struggle against this with all their being. I don't know if burn-out is a sin, but I see it all over myself. I have been doing the same types of work and ministry for well over a decade. I have no edge left. I'm really kind of surprised that the kids keep listening, but they do. I have to remind myself that while I may have said this 1,228 times, for at least a few out of the 155 that I taught this week, it was the first time they heard it.

It is this same resolve that keeps us preaching and living the gospel. I may have heard it thousands of times, but someone is hearing it today for the very first time. Someone today understood that sin is whatever is inconsistent with God's character. Someone received full and free forgiveness from a merciful Savior.

And Some-Glorious-One smiled, and all heaven with Him.

Sick of Being Sick

2008-09-03T12:23:00.000-07:00

I was extremely healthy all summer. I might have endured one or two days where I didn't feel the best, but generally I was the strongest and most robust I have been in my whole life. The 30s are better in lots of ways than the preceding decades. Especially childhood. I did not enjoy childhood very much, not because I had bad parents, but because my childhood self knew that I was destined for adulthood. I was poorly wired for childhood.

For the past many days, indeed, I think since inservice began, I have been sick with one thing or another. Fall allergies, fevers, headaches, aching spine (thought I had bone cancer yesterday), weakness, collapsing into my ugly green chair when I get home, unable to stir for at least a half hour. Illness frustrates me. I would do, give my best, but I cannot. The attempt to do, which I frequently try, sometimes makes me more unable than ever, and I collapse in a pile, breathing heavily with heart throbbing and lungs heaving.

But I think the saddest part of illness (especially as I age) is the loss of joy or zest for living. I find that as a sick person I don't care at all except from the perspective that if I don't keep pushing as hard as I possibly can, all my responsibilities will pile up on themselves and ferment, leaving an aura of rotting muck to sort out after the illness ends.

My wife is a very talented lady, especially when comes the practical and managerial. I respect her a great deal. I rely on her ability to keep it running when I am not well. And I entrust myself to the goodness of my faithful Creator, who will surely fix me if He wants to.

May the joy of the Lord be your strength today.

Back to School -- That's the Rule!!

2008-09-01T04:37:00.000-07:00

You bet we're back! I survived my 14th (!) inservice as well as the first three days of school. I have to say that I really have a manageable load this year. For the first time in my career I have no homeroom and no lunch duty. I miss the homeroom, but nobody misses lunch duty!

I will be teaching Latin to grades 5-10 again with only a few minor changes. One change is that the fifth graders are a very small double class, so I can teach all 25of them together. All we had to do was add one desk to my classroom, and presto, all fifth graders fit. They were absolutely adorable! At the beginning of the class, I asked them to introduce themselves, first and last name, tell about brothers and sisters, and something fun or interesting from summer. One little girl stood up and said the following:

"I'm [first name last name], I have [can't remember how many sibs -- I was too busy learning names], and I was diagnosed with Crohn's this summer." And then she sat down as though she'd just told us she had gone to Grand Teton National Park or something.

And you just want to cry. Is she even 11?

Our chapel and overriding theme this year at [impressive classical school] is mercy: mercy for those who've caused problems or offense, mercy on those who don't fit in as easily, mercy for those who aren't keeping up or succeeding well in their studies. I thought it was a beautiful theme and a necessary one for this school at this point in our history.

Physically I didn't feel all too well during the first week of school, but I was able to teach all my classes. I feel much better today.

Summer business continues on into the fall as well. We have about three jobs to finish and then the resulting paperwork. I could have turned them down, but I have a terrible time saying no to anything, especially things that bring in extra income. But I've drawn the line, I guess, and turned down an interior painting job for this September already.

Our house is almost sold. I guess Jay and Emily's house is one inspection away from being sold, so that's how far ours is from sold also. Tara and I are now actively seeking houses. We found about three leads to track. The difficult part is that we look at house-buying so differently. Tara wants a house that proclaims, "Move right in! I'm ready for you."

I want a house that gasps, "Help! Previous owners did not love me or maintain me properly. I'd make a great home for you if you're willing to rescue me."

Some prepare. We repair. We go house-hunting on Tuesday.

Visit with Donna and Kimberly

2008-08-22T19:37:00.000-07:00

Today was a day that started entirely too early. I think it was somewhere around 3:00 a.m. when Aidan came in and said, "Dad, I can't sleep."
So I said, "What's wrong, Aidan?"
And he said, "There's a light shining in my window that looks like a shark's tooth. It makes me feel scared."

So I went to his room, and sure enough, a light from the yard did look like a shark's tooth. I closed his curtains and that was that.

Meet the teacher went from 9-11 this morning. If you care, this is my 14th "meet the teacher" event. A striking but strange moment came when an older couple introduced their daughter Heather who is starting 9th grade this fall and looks strikingly like...her older sister Christina who graduated about six years ago. Of course I had taught her too.

I told the family that when the first school grandchild (that is, child of one of our graduates show up in my class, the tears will be rolling down my face and not a one of the children will understand. But I will know why I'm crying, and that's good enough.

One of our faculty took all of us out to Hunan Garden for lunch today. Yummy. Thanks, Nola!

I spent the afternoon working at one client's home and then stopped to visit my dad on the way to our farm. His back had been bothering him a great deal this week, but he is better today and anticipating increased health for the weekend. He told me that he had a conversation with a 100-year-old man in the parking lot of Aldi's this morning. The man gave him a dollar and my father gave the centenarian a gospel tract.

Our whole family planned to drive up to Northfield tonight to visit two of my college friends, Kim and Donna. However, when I got home today, Tara said that Aidan's fever was higher and that Toby and Avery were still sleeping. Then Toby woke up and wanted to go along, so Evan, Toby, and I headed to Northfield. We met Kim and Donna in the Hoyme parking lot and the proceeded to walk the campus and show the boys things from our college years.

We also had supper at Subway and caught up with each other's lives. The thing that struck me most is how different our lives have become. Kimberly is just returning from mission work in Southeast Asia. Donna is headed to Ireland to work on a master's in education. I have been where I am, building the same thing, since the summer I left St. Olaf. Divergent paths, definitely, but all worship to the same God.

Plumb Nuts

2008-08-21T19:00:00.000-07:00

For several months now the water pressure in our kitchen has been way less than desirable. When Tara turns on the faucet, it gives a little more than a trickle and a little less than a stream. She has been pretty patient with this situation, but I realized it was untenable, so I came up with a plan.

You need to know that the faucet and lines immediately attached to it are basically brand new, installed sometime either late last year or early this year. So I was not suspicious of them but rather of the old galvanized pipe that runs 16'9" from under the kitchen back toward the water heater. Since the water pressure from things connected earlier than this part had been all right, I figured the problem must be there. Solution? Remove old galvanized, install new galvanized, turn water back on. Of course.

So Wednesday night Scam and I ripped out the old pipe and hauled it outside. Evan participated in this part of the adventure also. Using Scam's handy gadget flashlight, we shone a beam through the pipe and concluded that, while dirty, there was nothing obstructing the galvanized. I had expected corrosive limestone or whatever and only a tiny pin-hole through which to squeeze the water. This was massively inaccurate.

We rinsed out the pipe using the pump near our well and then continued to check inside lines by blowing air through them. Nothing wrong was discovered anywhere, so we hooked the supply lines up again and ran the water. Beautiful water pressure spewed from the kitchen faucet until I happened to jiggle to vegetable sprayer. Immediately the pressure returned to its former anemic five psi. Scam and I looked at each other in amazement. Why had this happened???

We disassembled most of the faucet assembly, discovered nothing of consequence, rebuilt it, and tested again. We don't know anything definitive, but the water pressure is much improved and has been all day. Total investment: 65 cents, about 3 hours, and a good friend. I am blessed.

I was watching a movie earlier this evening and contemplating the milestones of a person's life. After the movie was over, I sat down at my keyboard and played a few old hymns that have components that speak of death or eternity: Amazing Grace; Nearer, My God, To Thee; that sort of thing. And then it struck me with some force: contemporary worship, or at least that which I've been exposed to, doesn't really like to deal with the milestones or passages in life. Yes, there are contemporary songs for weddings, but what about for baby dedications? Baptisms? Commissionings? Funerals?

I'll bet they exist, but I'll also bet they're rare because the whole CCM industry lacks the ability to see itself as part of a several thousand year long tradition. Instead, it sees itself (just guessing) as probably breaking with tradition and breathing a fresh wind or something over the Church. This is too bad because when we lose a sense of our heritage, we lose courage and certainty.

I have to confess that I've done this somewhat in my own life. I left the church of my heritage in disgust around the age of 18. All the systems, connections, and ways that I knew became part of my past in just a few weeks' time. I embraced the general category "evangelicalism" and began a new part of the journey. The problem, of course, is that I just sort of appeared out of nowhere, similar to the churches that I was attending. The contemporary church has no real heritage, except in terms of what it reacted against. Being somewhat anti-historical and anti-intellectual, it also doesn't have a good sense of its own history, however brief.

I mentioned my religious heritage, which did a pretty good job of teaching Bible and its own particular view of doctrine, but was absolutely scandalously hollow when it came to church history and development. I bet I would have loved to know the story of God's people from a young age, but it wasn't given. I think we children believed that Jesus ascended, the apostles wrote the NT, almost nothing happened for 1500 years, WHAM! the Catholic Church was massively corrupt (wait a minute--where'd the Catholic Church come from?? I guess we didn't ask) and God raised up Martin Luther who battled back the forces of evil and re-established the pure Lutheran light of God's Word. After Dr. Luther died, nothing else important happened, either. Really. I'm not kidding. I was the kind of kid who paid excellent attention in class, being interested as I am in ideas, history, and spirituality. I'm sure I would have caught it if they'd said something.

So I applaud some friends of ours whose 5th grade daughter is starting church history as part of their home school curriculum this year. What a gift she's receiving that she may or may not appreciate at her age..!

I'm going to cut off this long and laborious blog because it's time to work on my Christian Worldview Seminar. I'm speaking in Dodge Center at the end of September for a church mini-retreat. Lord willing, I'll give 'em something good.

Stinking Oil Primer

2008-08-15T20:11:00.000-07:00

I paint a lot. I paint for money, for recreation, for preservation of my property, for family, and for charity kinds of situations. I have been doing so pretty consistently for the last several years. So you'd think I'd know enough to put the lid firmly on a can of primer.

We were coming back from a second day at Auntie Alice and Uncle Roy's house. I had Evan and Aidan with me in the van with a load of wood in the trailer behind us. Evan reached behind his seat to get a swig of water from the blue water jug. A minute or two later he asked, "What's that smell? I think it's paint."

Well, I sniffed too and then looked behind his seat. In his efforts to get liquid, he had knocked over a mostly full can of oil primer. Generally this is not a problem if one happens to pound the lid firmly back on the oil primer. But if one is rounding up young children and talking to one's aunt while packing the van, it is possible that this detail will be overlooked.

So we had a pond of oil primer under and behind the passenger front seat. I pulled over immediately, assessed the situation, and determined that... we had nothing with us that would be useful in cleaning up more than a quart of oozing primer. I started the van again and we did the next 20 miles while getting high from the fumes of said oil primer. Zinsser makes a very nice oil primer, good quality, and I have the dead brain cells to prove it.

I spent at least a half hour cleaning up oil primer after we arrived at home. Yes, I realize it was no big deal. The van is 15 years old and ought to die sometime soon. Yes, I was able to get most of the primer back into the can, salvageable for use. Maybe the most valuable part of the experience was not getting angry at Evan for dumping it over. I realized almost immediately that a can of paint/primer will generally stay closed (even if unceremoniously dumped) unless the operator has not closed it properly.

BTW, oil primer is very useful for getting latex paint to adhere to old, weathered wood or other less-than-ideal surfaces. I am a big fan of oil primer even though it is more difficult to use than latex. I use latex also in less demanding situations.

My fault again. Most of the messes in our life lately have been traceable back to me. Sigh.

Reflections on Our Summer

2008-08-14T20:21:00.000-07:00

Hello, everyone. Sorry I've been gone. We (our computer, this is) contracted a nasty virus that sent pop-ups violently careening about the screen. They were particularly nasty and ill-mannered pop-ups that wouldn't go away no matter what you did.

But we (our computer, that is) are well now and ready to blog.

This week marks my last week of summer vacation. I am deeply thankful for all the magnficent blessings that God has given me during these months. We have had abundant work, helpful co-laborers, cooperative children, and plenty of time spent together as a family. Though I am assuredly not the world's most exciting daddy, I nonetheless am here and involved in the lives of my children.

All of my college student laborers went back to college, and then business picked back up again. Sigh.

We had a family mini-vacation to the Cities yesterday and today. We left on Wednesday mid-day and checked into a Country Inn and Suites somewhere east of St. Paul. It was a perfectly accommodating hotel with a pool and an attached restaurant. Around suppertime Ben and Emily met us and we drove to Hudson, WI for dinner together at a restaurant called Barker's. I enjoyed the food but everything else was a trial. The atmosphere was the type in which you can't hear your waitress, your children, your neighbor, or your food ("Don't eat me! Please don't eat me! I said DON'T EA-). Also we had to wait quite a time for a table and for a refreshment. We went swimming back at the hotel with no drownings and nothing else too frightening.

After continental breakfast at the Green Mill (I always LOVE continental breakfast... for an extremely skinny guy I really eat, and I with great enthusiasm almost all the time) we headed west to the Science Museum. Now, I will admit that the Science Museum contains many interesting things, but I am a big fan of productivity (almost none here) quiet (absolutely none here) and predictability (definitely none here). The kids were great and generally quite interested but the whole experience, including the much-hyped Star Wars exhibit, holds very little meaning or fascination for me. I am not a Star Wars fan and don't really perceive the delight that they seem to bring to others.

I also noted that the Science Museum faithfully teaches evolution every chance it gets. Placards throughout proclaim this creature or that fossil "60 million years old" and so forth. They also make speculations about species that survived and species that didn't and why that is so ("front teeth must have been useful to primates because..." or "perhaps the glyptodont became extinct because 3 million years ago was a period of rapid climatic change and it just couldn't keep up").

I would love to see some documentation... but of course there isn't any. Zilch. The claims about the ancient past are made with the gross audacity of, say, a Latin teacher lecturing on neurosurgery. It is a tragedy of epidemic proportions because thousands of children a day tour the place and read these profession, confident-sounding placards that quietly foster the assumption that the universe is purely materialistic.

As long as I'm ranting, let me further say that I'd love someone to admit that evolution is the necessary creation story for a particular worldview known as philosophical naturalism (a close cousin to secular humanism). Every thinking person's worldview includes some take-off of Creation, Fall, Redemption, Restoration.

Try it for philosophical naturalism:

CREATION-- Stuff evolved. We evolved.

FALL -- Extinction. Climate change. Nature vs. Man (maybe-- I'm fuzzy on this one)

REDEMPTION -- Science! Scientists! Freedom from truth claims of religion!

RESTORATION -- Overcoming the things that cause physical death/mental and emotional problems. Just a few years ago some scientist published on the idea of living forever... physically.

Now try the same four categories for Christianity and see what bold, rich, and accurate claims you get for each category. When I say accurate, I mean accurate to the experience you have of the world around you.

Well, I'm done for tonight. In-service on Monday, would you believe. Another year is starting again, and I'm here for it.

Elderly Relatives Save Our Tails Again

2008-08-05T20:10:00.000-07:00

I believe it is a commonly understood truism that each generation is indebted to the one before it. After all that is only common sense. The previous generation changed our diapers, made our dinner, nursed our owies, and (however imperfectly) taught us about Jesus. And for several in my family, they keep on doing it.

It seems that 75 is the new 60. That's my conclusion after today. On Sunday we decided with Alice and Roy (my aunt and uncle -- see last post) that I would come up on Tuesday to make wood for the winter (if Jay and Emily can't get the house sold it will be a good plan for us to have some wood on hand...). I already have a decent woodpile going, but not enough to heat our home for a typical Minnesota winter.

So Evan and I left around 9:00 this morning, bearing chainsaw, trailer with spiffy new wood sides, and the remains of a conflict he and I had created just prior to leaving. We spent the drive to Goodhue figuring out our conflict, which was pretty well resolved by the time we pulled into their driveway.

Now I thought we were going to say "good morning", chat for a minute, and then Evan and I would go back to where the dead trees were standing and log them out ourselves. Not at all. Roy, 78, offered me his "battle plan" a little after we arrived. He would fire up the tractor and after I would fell a tree, we would hook a chain around it and drag it over to the brush pile. Then I would limb the small branches, allowing Evan and Auntie Alice to pitch those straight onto the brush pile.

Well, that's pretty much what we did. I never anticipated that two septagenarians would put in basically a full day's work cutting and hauling wood. To be fair, let me say that Roy spent most of his time on the seat of the tractor, but he still did a great job with the tractor and got down a few times to toss something into the loader or work with the tow chain.

One of the highlights for Evan was getting to ride the front-end loader way up in the air in order to hook a chain around a dead branch still hanging on the tree. Roy hoisted him way up there and then shut off the bucket 10 or 12 feet above the ground. Of course, Evan being Evan loved the experience and successfully got the chain wrapped around the log.

Roy and Alice mentioned that they use the front-end loader to pick apples. Alice gets in the bucket and Roy raises it up the side of the tree and then waits while she gathers all apples within reach. I looked at them in disbelief, but they both agreed that that's how they did it last year. She would have been 74 at the time.

A sweet moment for me was watching them drive together down the grassy lane between two valleys of scrubby trees. Alice was standing on the running board of the tractor, and Roy was driving. Shafts of sunlight illuminated their silvery hair as they rode away from us. It gave me a glimpse of how they've worked together for the last 55 years, the rewards of a life well-lived.

We left with a full trailer of wood and arrived home to find that Grandpa, Alice's big brother, had been out to our farm today and fixed the mowing deck on one of my tractors and figured out what was wrong with a spring on the other.

The 75-and-over crowd did it again. They never cease to amaze me, and I will miss them "somethin' fierce" when Jesus finally calls them home.

Always Knew I Was Born in the Wrong Era

2008-08-03T19:04:00.000-07:00

129

As a 1930s husband, I am
Very Superior

Take the test!

This was definitely a fun test to take -- you should try it!

We went to my Uncle Roy's 78th birthday party this evening. My boys absolutely love their farm up near Goodhue, and since we are out in the country now, it's only 25 miles to their place. I love watching the generations grow up -- I got to see Auntie Alice help raise my generation, then her son Howard's kids, then her daughter Connie's kids, and now my kids and the next generation of her great-grandchildren. If ever a woman had an impact on her family, it would have to be Alice. She turned 75 in July and was out playing horse with Evan and Aidan tonight.

I rise up and call her blessed.

Painting Contractor Performs Heroic Deed

2008-08-01T05:04:00.000-07:00

They say only children are the heroes of their own lives (when they're not busy beating themselves up about the current failure or imperfection). See what you think of this one.

I was working for a doctor a few days ago, doing some touch-up painting and other work to his Pill Hill property, and I had to go back to Hirshfield's to have a color adjusted. So I was standing by the paint counter waiting for Pat to complete my order when a portly young man carrying two packs of cigarettes burst in and sort of shouted breathlessly,

"There's an old jeep parked on the grass next to the building, like a VW thing and it's got a dog tied to it!"

I said, "Yeah, I saw it when I drove in. Pretty cool car, huh?" (It was a real Jeep from maybe the 60s or 70s, one-of-a-kind.)

Then he got to the point. "It's on fire!! I think it's gonna blow pretty soon!"

I looked at him to see if he was a reliable witness, and he seemed pretty stressed and pretty earnest, so I hurried to the front and observed the Jeep. A trail of smoke was rising from the back seat. Another young guy had convinced the dog to step out of the Jeep while his stocky companion was inside Hirshfield's.

"Lift up the seat cushion," I ordered. They taller guy lifted it up, and we observed some seat springs, a car battery, and a small flame burning on the floor of the Jeep.

I hustled back inside and asked the Hirshfield's desk lady, "Where's the nearest water source?" She tried to figure out what was going on and finally got it. Of course the water was all the way in the back of this long, narrow story, so we bustled to the back (I was already carrying a large styrofoam cup that I'd snatched from the burning Jeep) and I filled the cup with water and rushed back to the front and then outside.

I poured my water over the flames and pretty much extinguished them. The Hirshfield's lady (being 55ish) followed a little later with a quart-sized paint can, also full of water. She dumped hers on the remaining hot areas, effectively bringing the fire to an end.

During this whole episode, the dog, a huge German Shepherd/Husky looking thing, sat calmly next to the Jeep. No barking, no anxiety, this was one calm dog. We petted him a little after the job was done.

Then Hirshfield Lady went next door to AT&T and asked them to find the owner of the burning Jeep and dog. A few minutes later two 20-something blond girls dressed in retro- early 70s flower-child dresses and sandals - were standing by the Jeep. I went out there and asked, "Is this your Jeep?"

They said, "It's our dad's." So I told them what had happened, and they were very thankful, not only for the Jeep, but especially for their dog.

Then Dad came out. He was a burned-out looking hippie with a long gray pony tail who matched the girls perfectly; obviously he had passed on his worldview with stunning success.

He immediately realized what had happened: the dog sitting on the back seat had brought the battery into contact with the metal springs, causing a short and heating the springs. The heat had caused the cushion to begin to smolder. The old hippie-dad was very thankful, too.

Usually things like that don't happen when I'm getting paint.

The Heavens Declare

2008-07-29T21:29:00.000-07:00

I know I should have been in bed a long time ago, but I just have to capture this. Around 10:45 I finished working on the vans (some battery issues, etc) and was closing up and putting things away for the night. A moment later I headed for the chicken house to make sure that they were safe from predators by closing their door. As I walked around the dark side of the chicken house, the whole glory of the heavens was opened up to me. A perfectly clear sky combined with the darkness of the country to display a grand picture of the sky. It was one of the few times in my life that I wished I knew more about astronomy.

I think I also got a sense of why we call our galaxy the Milky Way. There was a segment of the sky that reflected a whitish hue to me, I assume because of the sheer volume of stars in that "area".

Breath-taking. It really was.

Timber!

2008-07-27T19:50:00.000-07:00

This evening we loaded up all of our children and went to the annual meeting at our church. It was pleasant but not especially controversial or exhilarating in any way. Upon coming home, we noticed a huge branch partially blocking the gravel road in front of our house. After we put the young 'uns to bed, I went outside to look for Tara only to find her backing my VAN AND TRAILER RIG into the driveway. Now, honestly, how many of you have a wife (or are a wife) who can back a van and trailer?

So I jumped onto the trailer and we headed out to the road. We both lopped pieces and dropped them into the recently improved trailer (side rails now, remember?) We also got out the bow saw and sliced a few of the medium sized branches. Now that the road is clear, we can get some rest and then go after it again tomorrow morning.

This was a strange event to me because the branch was completely leafy and there was no sign of disease, except that raccoons are living in said tree.

Guest House Gets Rehabilitation

2008-07-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning is the time for worship team practice at our church, and I was sound guy this morning, so I headed into town with that as first on my agenda. Practice went fine, and, returning to the van, I lumbered off to estimate a job in North Park. These people had one of the largest decks I had ever seen in my life, including a 20-foot swimming pool. Hope we get the bid for that one...

But my real joy for the day was heading over to the new Nazarene Well House, which is a guest house for people who have come to Mayo Clinic for treatment and find themselves in the middle of an extended stay for which they cannot pay. For those of you who are locals, the building is west of Silver Lake and used to be owned by Zumbro Valley Mental Health. For a while they called it Circle Center, I believe. Anyway, the Nazarenes are refurbished this 7500-square foot former hotel into a guest house, and they are almost finished.

So how to I enter this picture? The Naz invited our church to a workday to get the caretakers quarters on the lowest level finished. Being sort of in this business anyway, and being acquainted with the fine people at Naz, and seeing that some of my fairly good Berean friends would be at the event, I decided to load up the van with my very best paints, rollers, and tools and head for the guest house.

Well, it was tons of fun! I think I had the unique position of knowing just about everyone from both congregations. (Schaeffer used to rent space from Naz in the old days, and I taught in their building. I would often be working late hours, which is why the Nazofolks know me so well. And of course several of them hadn't seen me in years. It was such a privilege to see everyone... a little foretaste of what heaven will no doubt be like.) So I painted a couple of closets in the basement and chatted with numerous people from both congregations. I was particularly impressed with the love and compassion that the Naz will be showing to people from around the world who are in difficult medical situations. They will be inviting in the stranger that Jesus spoke about in Matthew 25.

Around 4:00 I snagged my dad from his house and dragged him out to the farm to help me build a frame for the trailer. He does a great job but just doesn't have the perseverance he had 20 years ago. The boys helped me finish after Grandpa went home. Fortunately they are good helpers, so we got the thing basically finished and I can now haul just about anything without fear that it will fall out of the trailer.

Bedbugs for Jesus!

2008-07-24T19:07:00.000-07:00

Most of you probably know that I run an outdoor services business in the summertime. It supplements teaching income heavily and it makes the summers fly by. It also gives us lots of great stories and encounters with fascinating clients.

Within the last few days, I received a call from a man around age 60. He lives with his 87-year-old mother, and their home had become infested with bedbugs. His call was to ask if I would be able to haul away the beds and other soft furniture that had become infested.

Well, I really didn't want to do this job for fear of introducing bedbugs into my home. But then I began to consider it from a Christian worldview perspective. What would Jesus do in this situation? I decided that He would help the outcast, especially the outcast humbly seeking assistance. And in our society, someone with a bedbug infestation is about as outcast as I've recently seen. So I told the gentleman that I would indeed help him with his dilemma.

Yesterday afternoon he called to say that the exterminator had been through and had identified the pieces slated for destruction. The exterminator said I should go to Fleet Farm and pick up stretch wrap for the mattresses and other furniture to be dumped. Apparently that keeps the bedbugs contained, though my stretch-wrapping abilities would leave that in doubt. I was also to get two cans of bedbug spray for the old man and his ancient mother to use while waiting for the professionals.

So I raced down to Fleet Farm after spending too much time trying to take down an apple tree in Northern Heights (chain saw broke during the effort... wasn't even my chainsaw... long story there... the owner of the apple tree happened to be a retired physics professor and so the two of us tore open the smoking chainsaw to see what be the matter...) and a wonderfully kind and practical young woman helped me find both the stretch wrap and the bedbug spray -- who knew Fleet Farm carried bedbug spray???

I raced back up to the bedbug hideaway and met the owners. Mom was a shockingly spry 87 who seemed more like early 70s, maybe. The son was a friendly if portly fellow who had broken his shoulder which resulted in surgery that made him unable to carry anything of significance-- except himself.

As it was getting close to 5:00 p.m., I introduced myself, changed into clothes that could be burned without any tears from me, and began the removal process. Zach arrived a few minutes later and we crammed and jammed through two mattresses, two box springs, and miscellaneous other stuff. At 4:57, I acknowledged that there was no way in **** or anywhere else that we were going to get this stuff to the dump. The thought was terrifying to me, because, what do you do with a trailer full of bedbug infested furniture?

So I got on the cell and called into the labyrinth of phone tag that is the county recycling center's phone system. On the third call, I got a live human, the supervisor of the solid waste facility who said that yes, he understood the situation, and yes, he would wait for us and keep the back gate open. So we hustled and he watched for us. Now, I ask you, what are the chances of government personnel answering the phone after 5:00 p.m.??? God nudged him to pick up that phone and moved his heart to help us out. I'm sure of it.

When I had a moment alone with the homeowners, I explained to them that in my natural self, I wouldn't have helped them, but as a follower of Jesus, I thought that helping them would be an "in His steps" kind of thing to do. They both smiled broadly and basically praised the Lord right there in their living room.

They also *tipped* more than $75 and promised that each of them would say an extra prayer for me. I can always use an extra prayer, even if it comes by way of a rosary, I think.

I have tons more great stories, but that's probably the best in a while. Evan comes home from camp tomorrow. I really miss him already!

The Best of Toby from Today

2008-07-22T20:52:00.000-07:00

After Toby was up for a little while this morning and I was getting ready to go to the dump (we haul our own trash), Toby wandered through the kitchen and into the laundry room. The following is our exchange as close to word-for-word as I can get it. Remember that Toby turned 3 last March.

Toby: Mom, do we have an old house?

Tara: Yes, Toby, we have an old house.

Me: Toby, our house is very old.

Toby: Well, we should get a new house!

Me: Why do you think we need a new house?

Toby: Well, this one has a crack in it. [at this point he gestures towards a tear in the drywall or joint tape or whatever. This rip has recently developed, for sure within the last two weeks.]

Me: That's a good point, buddy. But we don't need a new house; we just need to put up some baseboard in the kitchen.

Toby: Baseboard?

So I bought a few pieces of baseboard or casing as Menards calls it and I'm going to try to stain it and tack it on soon.

I closed another important deal today with a client from Lake City. More road trips!

Finally, when we were almost home tonight, Toby made another comment to the effect of, "After Grandpa dies, we get to inherit his stuff!" Yes, he really used the word inherit and then went on to describe how he was going to "wrench things" with Grandpa's wrenches.

So we had another opportunity to remind Toby that it's better to have Grandpa with us than Grandpa's stuff with us.

Speaking of Grandpa, he went to his doctor today because a lump of something has been sloshing around in his upper left arm. Turns out that the muscle separated -- the sinew or whatever holds things together properly either snapped or lost its hold on the bone. So half of his bicep is just sitting there, doing nothing and connected to nothing. On the positive side, it isn't anything disastrous (we thought maybe something was eating the muscle). On the negative, it minimizes his strength in that arm. But he can still carry Avery, though I noticed he had the bulk of her weight on his right side, not his left.

It is difficult to watch your parents fall apart. I suppose it's even harder to watch yourself fall apart. Blasted fallenness.

Now to the Nursery

2008-07-20T20:29:00.000-07:00

Tara says my readership would like to know that I had a new experience today. After growing up in church, committing myself to Christ around age 18, and being involved with BCC for almost 13 years, I think today was the first time I worked in the nursery.

It's not that I haven't had opportunities before. I just always found effective ways to weasel out of them. For example, either I needed to go to service myself or I was teaching adult classes or my stomach wasn't doing well or...

Since Tara was subbing for someone else, and since she had nursery last week, I though it might be good if she went to the service where she could join in the musical worship and get some preaching of the Word. So I went to the nursery.

I decided to be with Avery's group, the just-walking-but-not-really-talking folks. There were 11 one and two-year-olds and three adults. For the most part, it was pretty easy, except when one of the toddlers would remember that his/her cruel parents had left him/her in the nursery and then the wailing would begin. One little lady named Harley periodically retreated to the doorway again and again as if Mom might be waiting on the other side. So I picked her up and read her some stories and tried to keep her occupied. Everyone else did the same. Avery did fine except when she realized that this other little girl was sitting on my lap instead of her.

Oh, and it's dangerous to go down on the floor in a roomful of toddlers. I got down there once and I think three of them were sitting on me at the same time.

I've decided that everyone who preaches should do a minimum of three weeks in the nursery prior to preaching. Thus the preacher would be sensitive to what the nursery is like if he should happen to go long. It isn't that he shouldn't go long if the Spirit directs him to; it's just that he'd be aware of what the last 10-15 minutes before pick-up look like. I know I never was.

***

I painted a door and a trailer bed today amongst all the usual activities. I was very energetic.

It Just Ain't Fair -- or Is It?

2008-07-18T07:24:00.000-07:00

So I went to Greg's office a few days ago to write an offer on this $35,000 property in said neighboring small town. Honestly, I was pretty excited about the opportunity. This place represented the best of both worlds: nothing desperately wrong with it, and an ideal opportunity to completely redo the interior.

As soon as we sat down in the little office, Greg said, "It's sold."
So that ended our quest to buy this particular little property.

Toby and I took a road trip to Lake City yesterday. We have a client who owns a home up there (two blocks off the river - gorgeous!) and wanted us to do some estimating. Lake City is a long drive from here, but fortunately a fairly pretty one at the same time. The people of Lake City are also proud that their town is the birthplace of waterskiing, which yes, is spelled with two i's.

While in Lake City, I learned that we were going to have a showing at 5:30, so we high-tailed it across the open country and headed for home. Thursday night is Tara's "night off" -- she goes to town and meets some other women for Bible study, then goes out to Applebee's with her friend Melanie for appetizers after 9:00 or however that works. I, of course, take the children.

We went to the fair last night. The kids and I all love the exotic animal displays, including animals you can pet. Particular favorites of mine include the Patagonian Cavy and the miniature donkey. The miniature donkey reminds one a lot of Donkey from Shrek but it a little shorter and a little fatter. Also, it doesn't talk as much, but its coat is extremely soft and pettable.

Evan made me laugh by the firm way he manages his younger brothers. He insisted that they not spend any unnecessary money and also made them wash their hands with anti-bacterial soap after they had gone through the petting zoo of exotic animals.

The Fine Toothed Comb

2008-07-15T20:36:00.001-07:00

After a very warm morning running around like crazy people to get ready for Flea/Farmer's Market (Evan's idea), and sitting at the Farmer's Market roasting my *** (still Evan's idea), I had profitted exactly one dollar. Clearly it was time to be... anywhere else! So we came home and did a few things while the excitement was mounting for our afternoon's activities. It was time for the inspection with the fine-toothed comb.

During the two o'clock hour we dumped our kids, picked up Greg, and headed for the peaceful town of [oh, yeah, can't say the name in my blog]. We had the ladder, the tape measure, the flashlight, and the notebook. We checked out everything imaginable... the roof, the structure, the heating and cooling, the laundry hook-ups, you name it. And yes, there were some issues, but not anything insurmountable. At the end of almost two hours, Tara and I were in complete agreement that this would make a fine stopping off place for a family for the next couple of years.

Tomorrow morning I will be sitting down with Greg to finalize the details of our offer. I would love to go non-contingent, but I'm afraid that might be a foolish idea, so we're going to ante up a few hundred bucks and send our plan to the bank.

By the way, Tuesday nights (5-8) are kids' nights at Fazoli's. Our whole family ate for $12.78. Seriously. And nobody was hoping for more.

A Special Sunday

2008-07-14T21:13:00.000-07:00

Our long-time friends, Russ and LaVonne, invited us out to their farm for dinner yesterday. I have known them for almost as long as I have been in this area, since we go to the same church. They are sort of our "senior saints", the ones who have been setting the example for us forever just by the way they live and the gracious things they say.

Well, of course the dinner was delicious, between the fresh vegetables and the farm cooking. Our kids were very well behaved and got to have lots of new experiences, including, but not limited to, a tour of a dairy/cheese-making building and a chance to climb around on huge round bales of hay stacked in one of the machine sheds.

About mid-afternoon, it was time to head up the road to Jay and Kim's, son-in-law and daughter of the aforementioned couple. As if the hospitality hadn't been gracious enough already, Jay and Kim let us ride horses, took the boys for a ride on the 4-wheeler, and then grilled out for dinner. The weather was absolutely gorgeous, the scenery breath-taking, and you could just about feel the smile of Father in the glory of the surroundings and the love of His children.

We have now been inside of the $35,000 house that I mentioned last time around. It wasn't in great condition, but it wasn't as bad as we expected, either. This has been a very lively topic of discussion around our house for the last few days. We think it would be fun to see what life would be like without a mortgage payment. Also it would give me an opportunity to redo and interior from front door to back with a clear plan in mind. A color scheme, if you will, and a way of looking at things cohesively.

Many thanks to my dear friend Everett for bringing me Alan Jacobs' The Narnian as a birthday gift. I have been reading faithfully and learning a great deal more about the man who has become C.S. Lewis to the world.

Our Current Hare-brained Scheme

2008-07-12T09:45:00.000-07:00

Most of you regular readers know that we have been trying to sell our house for some time. It has been slow going in this weird economy with a rural property.

Well, one of the searches that we use just brought us a property in a neighboring small town. It has three bedrooms, one bath, and is priced at $35,000. Tara and I kind of looked at each other and said, "Do you suppose we might be able to buy it outright and be done with loans and mortgages?" So we drove to said small town (very cute downtown, by the way) and (it's vacant) had a look around the outside and peered in the windows. It seems to be in fairly good condition. We have left messages with two agents, but no action from anyone yet, so I don't really have anything to tell.

I also spent five and a half hours roto-tilling yesterday at a place off Marion Road. The client wanted a 50-foot round horse paddock to be tilled so her horses wouldn't trip or be in any danger. Besides being miserable work after about an hour, I was started at by eight horses most of the time. In fact, one of them tried to eat the handle of my garden rake, but I convinced her that handles are made of wood, which horses should not eat. They were beautiful horses.

Shot Heard 'Round the Pasture

2008-07-10T19:26:00.000-07:00

I have lots of things I'd like to say today that have no relation to one another, no thread that I can discern to tie them all together. All right, you've been warned.

Last night one of our good friends came out to the farm and brought his... GUN! Yes, a real firearm, a Sigsauer P250 with interchangeable grip or whatever they call that part of the gun. Now, I have fired a BB (or beebee, not sure how I should spell this) gun since childhood and am a relatively decent shot. I can take down a pop can with the best of 'em. In fact, it's really funny of late, since the boys and I have been shooting the BB gun and Evan fills the cans with water before he sets up the pyramid. That way, when we hit a can, water flows from the side and it becomes really obvious where the shot landed. But I digress. What I was trying to say was that I have never shot a real firearm before in my life.

So my friend set up his target, went through all the safety, and we began to shoot. We included the friend, myself, Evan, and later Tara. So yes, if my 7-year-old tells you that he's shot a real gun, he's not lying. He really has, probably 10 or so shots. I think about three of those he actually put into the target. Again, not bad for a little guy shooting a 9mm firearm.

I was surprised by the strength of the kickback from such a small weapon. I was also surprised by the amount of dirt that Tara kicked up from her first few shots. Of course, she was closing her eyes when she pulled the trigger...

Our friend also brought a tea kettle with him, and we filled that with holes as appropriate. The bullet flies so fast that it enters one side of the kettle, exits the other, and leaves the kettle still sitting on top of the stump. Amazing.

Business has slowed down considerably, which is not a big deal to me. I am just happy to have more time to spend with my family.

I would like to share a brief anecdote about each of the boys in context. The whole family was at Shopko Optical this afternoon to help Tara pick out her new glasses. I think she was dreading this, but it actually turned out to be not-to-crazy. However, they advised her that there would be a good sale about three weeks from now, so she decided to wait and order them during the sale.

As we finished our Adventures in Eyewear, Evan and I headed out front to choose some annuals because Shopko has several types of annuals available for TWELVE CENTS A PACK. Yes, sports fans, you read correctly. We loaded a cart full of fairly healthy but undernourished begonias, vincas, and impatiens for a total cost of $4.37. Now, we do not actually need 125 annuals, but remember, Evan has been dealing at farmer's market in [insert local small town here] and this looked like a great opportunity for mark-up. So all three of the boys and I spent about an hour this evening repotting the annuals into bigger containers which will give them room to grown and look healthy by Tuesday. Evan and I are thinking three for a dollar.

Aidan asked to have three pieces of candy from his 4th of July stash instead of cake after supper. I agreed to this and Aidan went into the phone booth to choose his three pieces of candy. Since it took him some time to do this, Evan suggested that perhaps Tater was actually consuming more candy while in the phone booth. Evan wanted to launch a full-scale investigation, but I found this unnecessary and taught Evan that unless we have a reason to mistrust someone, it's our job to take them at their word. Love your neighbor and all that. Aidan also took me to see one of our apple trees which fell over in the windstorm this afternoon.

Toby worked very hard at the flower effort as well. He poked the hole in the bottom of the cups before Evan and I installed the extra dirt and additional flowers. As usual, Toby started crying when it was time for bed because he wants to stay up and his little spirit gets overwhelmed with sorrow at the thought of being in bed while Daddy is still working on stuff. Toby would work with Daddy 24-7 if you let him. He continues to prefer a tool to a toy. I continue to enjoy this.

Blessings, y'all.

Bubba Breaks In

2008-07-07T20:05:00.000-07:00

Well, internets, it's good to be back. Our CPU was in the shop last week, so I missed out on a lot of blogging.

At the end of my freshman year in college, I met a classmate named Everett. I think it happened after Wednesday Nite Bible Study down at Bill's Pizza in Northfield, though I can't be sure because that part of my life is a 15-year-old blur. Over the next three years we became very close friends and in fact roomed together our junior year. Everett, known as "Bubba" to close friends and family, is from Kentucky, has half my anxiety, twice my intelligence, and twice my bulk. As Pastor Gary once said, "You meet the guy, and you think, 'yeah, he'll grow up to be a truck driver.' But the guy's smart, he's really smart."

Anyway, we have stayed close throughout the years though neither one of us has any ability to initiate communication and though he is cataloguing librarian at Trinity International University, not exactly in my back yard, er, pasture.

So it should not have been a surprise when he burst through the door at 11:20 p.m. on July the third. But it was. Oh, it was.

Unbeknowns to me, my wife had planned a small birthday celebration on the 4th. I was already planning to host my dad and a few relatives on his side, but Tara decided that my birthday present should be much larger than that. So she got me an Everett for my birthday, as well as Phil and Nancy from this area. On the night of the third, Tara and I were chatting in the living room (she had just come home from Applebees). I was just thinking about locking the house and getting to bed when the back door opened and then slammed shut. This was quite distressing to me since we live several miles from anywhere and doors do not open by themselves very often.

"Hello?" I said in a firm voice. There was no answer, just footsteps.

"Who's there?" I asked in a less firm and more anxious voice. I was frozen in my ugly green recliner, knowing that I was about to be murdered here with my family and thankful that I know Jesus has paid for my sins and granted me eternal life with him.

"Hey, Jim!" said a familiar voice from the inky darkness. It was my very old, very dear friend Bubba. He hadn't realized what a fright his coming would create in me. If he would have, he might have worked harder at it...

I had a wonderful birthday, thanks for asking. I turned 35 years old and no longer claim to be young by any stretch of anyone's imagination. The maturity is not a bad thing; the realizing that you are twice the age of your high school students is.

While Everett was here, and playing with the boys, Evan turned to me and commented, " I don't think you're going to like this, Dad, but with Everett here it's like having two dads." Yeah, he was right. I didn't particularly like it, but I could see his point. I relate through work, projects, listening, theology, and more work. I am most at peace when I'm working. Everett is more laid-back and recreates well.

After I got home from work tonight, Toby and I spent a little time in the barn. He wanted to learn how to saw, so I taught him. With a real saw. It took him some time, but while I finished touching up the paint on the side of the barn, he sawed something like a real 1x4 in two. By himself. Wow, was he proud! The rest of us were pretty amazed, but you couldn't argue with the results or the cut. It was just about straight.

We still have no action on moving. I wait patiently for the ol' thumbs up or thumbs down, but neither seems to be happening. Mercy.

Evan goes to the farmer's market tomorrow to try his hand at selling produce. We have maples tree seedlings for $3 each and hostas for $2. He will probably add some reasons tomorrow for his nickname "Little Tycoon".

Surrogate Parenting: Week Two

2008-06-22T18:49:00.000-07:00

It is Sunday evening. The house is quiet except for Tara watching "Extreme Home Makeover." That's the show where they build you a new house and then the new owners jump around screaming "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" and occasionally even worse things when they see their new digs. The giving side of it is beautiful, but whenever I watch it, I'm reminded that we're all too materialistic. There are other things they should be far more excited about than a beautiful new home. At the same time, Paul teaches in the NT that God has given us all things for our enjoyment. Every blessing can be received with joy and thanksgiving because it is ultimately from the hand of a good God.

Keven finished his first week with us and is well into his second. He had a rough first few days but began learning and growing almost immediately. I have been teaching him the basics of Christian theology and Aunt Tara has been teaching him the basics of structure, self-discipline, and good decision-making. Ultimately these two fit together; one is the philosophy that guides; the other is the practical outworking of this philosophy. Both of us gravitate toward our strengths.

Some us you wanted to know what happened to the entrapment scheme that Tara and I set up for Keven a few nights ago. This involved empty food boxes in the snack cupboard. The answer is that nothing happened. He obeyed and stopped snitching food without permission. Sorry that there's nothing exciting to report!!

On the more interesting side:

Keven got blamed three times today for things that we finally discovered that he did not do. For example, I found a string cheese wrapper buried in his sheet on the couch and I gave him the what-for for taking food and lying. As a consequence I let all the other boys have a string cheese for morning snack but not Keven. Later Tara pointed out that, hadn't I had a string cheese last night while sitting on the couch?

So this was the beginning of wonderful life lesson for Keven. He has learned repeatedly this weekend that once you lose people's trust, it's very difficult to get it back quickly. He has also discovered that all of our boys immediately look at him when anything is broken, out of place, possibly wrong, whatever. Several times it hasn't been his fault!!

Keven also made a pretty funny mistake today. He was climbing up my tractor and pretending to drive. So far, so good. But then he climbed up onto the steering wheel, including his feet. (according to Evan) Now what would you expect would happen if you climbed bodily onto an old steering wheel of a 1954 tractor? The wheel will turn (no power steering) and dump you unceremoniously on your side. That is exactly what happened to Keven. We heard a yell from the other side of the house and I told Tara to hustle around because I have something pulled in my lower back that doesn't allow me to run today. So she saved her nephew and he recovered pretty quickly.

We are back to work this week with three big jobs to finish. I also have bids scheduled for Monday afternoon, so I am excited to see what will come of all our work this month.

Slowly Twisting in the Wind

2008-06-20T04:40:00.000-07:00

I hate waiting for things. I always have. I know that this is a discipline that God uses in our lives to make us learn to trust Him and to be people of patience and perseverence, but I still hate waiting. Inigo and I would have understood each other.

Today I am waiting to know whether this summer will end with us moving back to town or with us refinancing and winterizing the acreage that we're on. I guess I like either choice; it's just that one has to be made sometime and I don't have a lot of control here.

I started painting the front face of the block building last night. Toby helped a little but soon lost interest and turned it back over to me. I am going to try to get out there and complete it before I go to work this morning. Toby also asked for farm fresh eggs for breakfast. That was when I realized that I'm away too much. I almost never do anything special with the kids (well, they go to job sites with me on occasion, but I haven't made special breakfast or special anything else for a long time).

I think I will go wash my face and see if I can finish the barn.

Liar, Liar, Pants on...

2008-06-19T21:34:00.000-07:00

I need to get to bed, but this is just too good to leave. After VBS tonight, Tara found a Hershey bar wrapper from one and a half candy bars that Keven plowed through while no one was watching today. He then lied about and Tara busted him. Again.

He normally wakes up during the (I guess) early morning hours, heads for the snack shelf, and loads himself full of whatever he thinks would be tasty. Then he goes back to doze somewhere.

So tonight Tara and I took all the decent snackable foods and put them in another cabinet a full 7 feet off the ground (did I mention that Keven is a for-real, 3'5" dwarf?) and filled the snack cabinet with empty boxes of granola bars, cereal, pop-tarts, etc. which were still in the recycling bin.

I never hope for disobedience, but if he does raid the cabinet, it's going to be majorly unfruitful!! Well, except for the cantaloupe that I put up there, too.

Holy Business, Batman!

2008-06-17T17:26:00.000-07:00

So things continue strangely at our house. Keven woke me up this morning at 5:12 a.m. which is what he is supposed to do instead of going in to the boys' room and waking them instead.

I went to work without any children today, which also qualifies as strange. Usually at least one of them ends up with me. Yesterday Evan did about a 9.5 hour day out in the field with me. The last time Toby came, he did over 10. No crying, almost no complaining. Amazing.

The third strange thing is just the sheer volume of business that has been going on. I can't even get to all the bidding opportunities in a timely manner. Not that I'm complaining; it's just a little unusual.

I brought Toby home with me tonight. Everyone else is at our church's VBS doing "Power Lab" which I think is focused on Jesus' power to do...well... anything. Toby is too young for the VBS and too starved for Daddy to be left in the nursery.

I am thinking about sending a donation to Focus on the Family Action. They are fighting a covert supporter of the gay agenda who has poured over 110 million dollars into state legislative raced during the last few years. Through his efforts he unseats candidates who are in favor of biblical marriage between one man and one woman.

It's the end of the world as we know it...

The Twelve Days of Christianity

2008-06-15T15:57:00.000-07:00

We were warned that our visiting nephew had a variety of needs, and so far the warning has been quite accurate. While going into detail on those would be very interesting, our respect for his privacy would be pretty dreadfully compromised. It would be enough to say that he's developed lying as a defense mechanism and that he's not used to obeying as an initial response to instructions.

After the first several hours, I realized that he would need a crash course in Really Important Things, or Christianity in Twelve Easy Lessons. So I have created a list of 12 big questions like "What's the most important thing in life?" and "What is God like?" and so forth to go through while he's here. Evan and Keven and I will be doing these little studies together. I figure, God's pretty much dumped the kid in my lap. The least I can do is teach him a little bit of what God has taught me.

The weather is stunningly beautiful here. The days are sunny with low humidity, fluffy clouds, and 70-something degree highs. You'd love it.

All Work and No Play...

2008-06-13T20:25:00.000-07:00

makes Toby a dull boy. Well, you be the judge. This morning we rolled Toby out of bed at 7:30 to go to job sites with Daddy. This was motivated by two factors. One, Toby usually cries in the morning when I leave because he wants to go with me. Two, Tara was today heading for Jackson, Minnesota to pick up her nephew Keven. The nephew in question will be staying with us for the next two weeks. It made sense to have one less child in the car, especially the one who gets squirmy when left in a car for 2-3 hours.

So we piled in the van before 8:00 and lumbered onto the gravel road together. Toby was still a little groggy but woke up quickly. He was ready for his day.

We did a lot. We opened properties for other contractors, delivered equipment, gave estimates, and the like. Toby, for his part, got to meet Jack and Georgia, a couple of 90-year-olds who have lived in the same house for 51 years and have been married to each other for 67. They were both lucid, interesting, and interactive people, stunning for their age. We will be doing some dirt work on their property to minimize moisture coming into the basement.

Then we went to Veronica's house for roto-tilling. Her 7-year-old daughter squealed when she saw Toby: "Mom, he has a kid with him!" So Toby had a pretty easy time at that house, too. There he learned how to jump on a full-size trampoline and how to chew large gumballs from a gumball machine in the living room.

After our morning escapades, we returned to downtown to the house where Dan is painting some of the upstairs rooms (sub-contracting to me). Dan is awesome and has the ability to uphold his bragging that he can cut an interior with a 4-inch block brush. I've seen his work and I now believe it to be true, though I think he used a 3-inch sash brush instead. :-)

Skipping the end, Toby lasted without a nap for an 11-hour day of contracting. He pressure washed, he stained, he chatted with clients, he played with other people's toys, and he helped Zach carry equipment. He did just about everything I do in a day except billing. Did I mention that Toby is three?

Our nephew Keven is busy testing the boundaries in this household by telling tall tales and trying to say shocking words that will apparently make our boys impressed. So far it hasn't worked too well, thank God. Evan and Aidan are not really buying it. Already Keven has fallen into our pond, which has to be the scummiest water in Minnesota. He has also threaten Evan that he's going to steal Evan's wallet if Evan told about something that he said. Evan (he's Evan) told immediately and then stashed his wallet for safe-keeping while Keven was asleep.

Please join us in praying that God will do amazing things in our lives and in Keven's life while Keven is here with us. It's gonna be a strange two weeks.

Depressing News about my English Skilz

2008-06-10T20:31:00.000-07:00

Your English Skills:

Grammar: 100%

Vocabulary: 80%

Punctuation: 60%

Spelling: 60%

Does Your English Cut the Mustard?

This is troubling, to say the least. On the other hand, how many people know what "halcyon" means? I think I might have at one time.

Grandma Attacks Classical Christian Education

2008-06-10T04:03:00.000-07:00

So business season is in full swing, and the sunshine has returned with strength and beauty. We are trying not to waste a moment as well as trying to enjoy every moment. So far it's been pretty easy.

I worked yesterday afternoon for the grandmother of a student at our school. She is a former public school teacher, media center coordinator, principal, and finally, before her retirement, superintendent of a district in this area. A loud, energetic, and articulate lady, she confided in me that it breaks her heart to see her grandson in a private school. She knows/agrees that it's a good school, and apparently helps out with tuition, but his absence from the public schools troubles her greatly. She also said that she doesn't know if she agrees with the philosophy of the school.

My sense of this woman is that she must have been an outstanding administrator. Her district built several schools during her tenure and increased its student population by 700. Obviously she was a lady who could "get the job done."

The question we need to ask, however, is, "What is the job?"

In other words, if you raise glorious funds and build grand buildings, but damage the student by the content of what you are teaching, your work is largely in vain.

Christian parents ought to have a problem with the public schools for several reasons, but here's the key one: America's public schools demonstrate on a daily basis that God is irrelevant. Teachers in public schools must teach from the perspective that any belief system might be valid, or none might be. They must teach that evolution is the best approach to understanding our origins and our basic nature. In other words, they are require to lie (either implicitly or explicitly) to our young people about who they are and for what purpose they have been placed on earth. They simply are not allowed to tell the Truth.

Is it any wonder that our government schools are full of underachievement, drug use, gangs, violence, despair, teen pregnancy shallowness, disrespect, foul language, and depression? When you tell young people that they have no purpose beyond themselves, no One who loves them, and no One Who will judge their lives and their actions, you can expect exactly what we're seeing. And worse.

I haven't said anything controversial in my personal life for a long time, or in my blog, but I am ready to say something today. I am ready to call out all the Christians who believe that two hours on Sunday morning will counteract 42 hours of humanist instruction during the week. Even if the onslaught of philosophical naturalism during these formative years doesn't wipe your child's salvation, it seriously damage her ability to love God with all her mind because the educational system will feed her untrue information that she will absorb without realizing that it is untrue. (This happens to all of us -- we mentally hold two things that are mutually exclusive -- shall we say "A" and "non-A" -- and think them both to be true at the same time.)

I think I have said my piece for today. If you want to comment in disagreement, I ask you to think about your comment for a little while and don't merely post out of emotion.

Today's Searches and Breaking News

2008-06-08T19:50:00.001-07:00

Yeah, I know I've already blogged today. Do you wanna make somethin' of it?

Tara was going through our stat counters tonight and informing me of our statistical information. "Well, honey, yesterday I had 16 hits and you had five. And the day before that I had 20 and you had six." Well, now I feel good and valuable in this world. Sigh.

Of course the funnier part is to see what key words people were entering that sent them to my blog. In honor of Boo Mama, I'll list a few of the stranger ones.

Guinea Foul Eggs -- I don't know if that was a typo or just their opinion of guinea fowl eggs. I do have guinea hens, one less since Tara ran over one a few days ago. (**Tara here, we have no evidence that I actually ran over it.)(***Jim here, except it was found dead in the driveway with no evidence of foul play. Or is that fowl play?) We also have three adorable kittens that no one has run over yet. (Anybody want a kitten? I have light gray, gray, and black. The light gray one clings to you with death claws, so I have named him "Cockleburr".)

Scare Central Sioux City Tara -- this one weirded me out. Sioux City isn't central to anything, though Tara can be scary at times. Mostly it's not her fault. She was raised in Sioux City, you know.

Computer Illiterate = Latin Teacher -- There's nothing I can say that would make this one any funnier.

Menards Washing Machine -- Yes, I admit that I shop at Menards, frequently, but I have never bought a washing machine from them. I prefer to buy things used.

The conventional wisdom around church this morning said that Jay and Emily had four showings on their house within the first week and also have received one offer. The offer was the lowball/insulting sort, but still let me emit a barbaric yawp as appropriate here. YAWP! Lord willing, better offers will follow soon, and we will be swingin' into action within a month or so.

Tara and I watched an episode of the Red Skelton show from what must have been the 50's. It is stunning how hokey television was in its early days. The original viewers still seem to have been impressed. The real challenge of television is to unearth something worth broadcasting.

From all of us here at Tractor Antiquus, we're in touch so you be in touch. Thank you and have a good night.

Rain and Family Togetherness

2008-06-08T05:38:00.000-07:00

It is raining again this morning. I woke up around 3:45 a.m. and realized I was hearing raindrops over the sound of the fan (Tara and I run a fan in our room because it blocks out the other noises that tend to wake someone up during the night). So I went to the open window because I enjoy rain and the experience of listening to rain is not one you can choose... you have to wait until it rains to enjoy it.

While I was listening, I heard the sound of the water sloshing over the gutter, so I went outside and cleaned the low gutter to prevent any sloppage onto the laundry room wall. This was easy and I soon returned to bed.

Avery got up early and ate three pancakes all by herself. She is a big eater for someone who doesn't even weigh twenty pounds. During breakfast, Tara and I noticed that Avery babbles conversationally at us, but doesn't really seem to mean anything by the syllables. I don't remember the boys doing that, or at least much of that. It always seemed, even if they were unintelligible, that the boys always meant something when they spoke. Evan, in particular, by the time he was Avery's age, was already fairly conversational.

I had some wonderful insights yesterday afternoon while mowing with Toby, but I cannot remember any of them now.

Speaking of yesterday, we decided to have a family day. We loaded up all the kids in the morning and headed for grandpa's house. Then we drove past a house near downtown that might be a possibility for our family. After that we arrived at one of the highlights of the day, a trip to HOM furniture, which is new in town as of this spring. Now most children I know do not relish a trip to the furniture store, but mine are different. I took Evan and Aidan to HOM furniture a few weeks ago, and they absolutely loved it. Partly, I think, it was the acres of gorgeous furniture, partly the see-through glass elevator, and partly the free chewy cookies and drinks from the soda dispenser.

So we took all four children to HOM yesterday. They had a great time again, and Tara and I got to dream about what it might be like to have new furniture. We did have new furniture once, right after we were married, but it was furniture that we bought off a truck. You know, one of those deals where the truck sets up on a vacant corner lot and you can buy a three piece set (couch, loveseat, chair) for $550.

We also went to two graduation open houses for lunch and after lunch, sandwiching in some time at Saver's and Aldi's as well. Then we came home (not HOM) and I mowed for a while in anticipation of the increasing precipitation.

Well, I've got to get ready for church. Have a good Lord's Day, y'all.

Been Readin' Poetry

2008-06-03T04:42:00.000-07:00

It is rainy and cloudy today in Minnesota... a good day to talk about poetry.

I taught English and Literature for 12 years, ending in 2007. The problem with being an English teacher is that you don't really have time to read. Yes, I hope that elicited a chuckle. However, it is a true statement, properly understood. What it means is that you don't have time to read anything that you actually want to read. You only have time to keep current with curriculum. For example, I've read A Tale of Two Cities ten times. The Giver? Thirteen times. You get the point.

My mother-in-law, Sheila, brought us several volumes of best-loved poems of the American people this spring. I ignored them for a while and finally delved in a few days ago to see what kinds of poems these were, and how does one decide if a poem is best-loved by the American people?

It turns out that the compiler was an editor of a major American newspaper, and that she received requests all the time to publish this poem or that. So she kept a tally of what was requested how often, and the winners became yes, Best Loved Poems of the American People. Sadly, I don't think too many of us contemporary folk even have best-loved poems, or any poems. Except for song lyrics, we have become a culture devoid of poetry and too little interested in anything of beauty that requires patience or skill to create.

In protest of this, I am reading poetry. I read Ella Wheeler Wilcox's "Growing Old" and several others whose names I cannot yet remember. I also recognize lines here and there that my mother used to recite at random as she did her housework. She never knew the whole poem or whole song, only enough to call it mind.

Speaking of literature, Jan Karon has a new novel out called Home to Holly Springs. Tara and I both love Jan Karon, the author of The Mitford Series which features Father Timothy Kavanagh and a host of supporting charachters. These books weave together her gentle sense of humor, small-town life, a love of writing and quoting other writers, and Father Tim's believable walk with the Lord.

It's Been a While

2008-05-30T07:07:00.000-07:00

Hello, internets. Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I had to finish up a school year and get summer business up and running.

The school year ended well except for some over-efficient foolishness. I had been trying to correct tests wherever I was. Apparently I dropped five of them at Assembly of God while were going through graduation rehearsal. I spent hours searching for them (they were after all, final exams) but someone finally brought them back to the school and gave them to Keith. I felt much better after they were back in hand.

The house deals continue to drag along. Not being a patient person, I feel that everything moves too slowly. We have been looking at houses with Greg, and yesterday the last house on tour would have been absolutely lovely for us. It is also reasonably priced: 3+ bedrooms, large yard and house in immaculate condition. Tara loved it. I loved it. The children would have been fine with it.

And there's about a 3 percent chance that we'll be able to get it.

Why?

Well, our house isn't actually sold yet, and when we do receive the offer from J & E, it will be an offer contingent on the sale of their home.

That means any offer we make would have to be contingent also, and since that house is practically perfect in every way, it will no doubt draw lots of non-contingent offers.

In other words, the only way we'd get it is if God wants us to.

I don't know if I've said this yet, but I'm intending to read all the Psalms this summer in order. Then I will know that I've finally read the entire book of Psalms. I like psalms because they seem to be a very human part of Scripture -- all kinds of emotions are conveyed within.

Guinea Hens Surrender Young to Omnivore

2008-05-18T20:02:00.000-07:00

Sunny Sunday. What a beautiful way to begin the week. And it really is beginning the week. As we become more and more secularized, it seems that Monday is seen as the beginning of a week, but the NT calls this day "the first day of the week," and it seems fitting. "With the Lord begin thy task, Jesus will direct it," declared the hymnwriter many years ago. It truly sets the tone for the days ahead.

I have been saving two guinea hen eggs among the farm fresh chicken eggs. Guinea hens lay in unusual places and it was a rare treat to find two of them in the same general area within a day of each other. Tonight I convinced Tara to scramble them for me and let me try guinea hen ovum myself. Tara reported that the shells were much thicker than the average chicken egg. My tongue reported that perhaps they were a little greasier than the average chicken egg. And no one needed to report that I was passing some of the most foul gases known to man in the hours following dinner. Mustard gas had nothing on these birds.

Tomorrow we start the last week of the 2007-2008 school year. It is a perfect time to release school... before it's hotter than **** and before the attitudes become sour and unpleasant. Pretty soon I'll be telling you that it's all over except the shouting.

Adventure Day

2008-05-17T19:53:00.000-07:00

The day dawned bright, clear, and glorious on our farm. I rolled out of bed about 6:30 a.m. and tried to think of the most unpleasant project I could possibly tackle. And I found it.

One of the less attractive features of our farmlet was a small stand of burning barrels centrally located between the house, driveway, grainery, and barns. It is actually right in the middle of the west lawn. I have thought for a long time that they needed to be removed, and so today I did it.

You need to understand that these are not small bins or even the size of garbage cans. These are 55-gallon drums, rusting and full-to-the-brim with ash. Hundreds of pounds of trash ash, probably. Those of you that know me know that I stand about 6 feet tall but weigh only about 150 on a good day... not enough personal mass to heft these barrels around. So I am reduced to shoveling the ash into more manageable containers until there's only about 100 pounds left in the barrel. Then I'm able to drag the remains onto the trailer and drive it out to the burning pile in the southwestern corner of the property. So this I did from about 7:30 to 10:00 this morning.

And Toby helped me.

As you know, Toby is three, which makes him an amazing mixture of insightful, innocent, and idiotic. And Toby is also completely immersed in the stage where he asks "why" about EVERYTHING.

Toby: Dad, why are ya loading that stuff on the twailer?

Me: Well, Toby, these rusty barrels of ash don't look very nice on the yard, so we're going to move them to the burning pile in back.

Toby: Why d'you wanna move them to the burning pile in the back?

Me: The burning pile already has lots of ash. These barrels will fit right in there.

Toby: Why will the barrels fit in there?

Though arguably Toby and I are the easiest personality mix of me and any of my children, after an hour and a half of this I am ready to help him become one with the ash in the barrels.

About this time Tara comes home from garage saling in two of the small towns near us, and she bears the exciting news that she has found two riding mowers for sale. She sends me ("Get in your car now and...") to check out the mowers with the full intention of having me buy one. So I oblige her. It is a green and yellow Yard Man 15-horse rider with a bagging attachment. Sadly enough it is from the estate sale of one Mike M. who was only in his 50's. If he did not know the Lord, it is his own fault, since he lived a block from a Baptist church with biblical messages on the outside of the building.

His colors were horrible (orange kitchen, green bedroom, blue (I think) living room) but the quality of the painting was good. Sort of like a great vocalist singing a horrible song.

I could tell you more, but my arms hurt a lot from all the shoveling and other physical labor we've done today.

By the way, it looks like the house might sell. Our friends Jay and Emily want to move to the country and this suits them. They visited today and we tried to "unsell" it to them... make sure that they aren't just infatuated with a house. But no, I think they like it.

Worked for Me Wednesday

2008-05-15T07:21:00.000-07:00

Apparently women who blog have a thing called "Works for me Wednesday" in which they share practical ideas of how they manage to survive the challenges of homemaking with less stress and effort. So today I will share with you serendipitous Wednesday

Wednesdays are usually a hard-working day at school for me, but this one wasn't. First, the 8th graders were going to be off campus for a highway clean-up project in the afternoon. I was passed over on supervision duty because I still had 5th grade to teach in the afternoon. Later, I was informed that the 5th graders would be receiving their first annual talk entitled "Growing up as a Sexual Being" (subtitle: No, You Don't Have Cancer nor Have You Regressed to Wetting the Bed). Okay, I confess, I made up both titles, but they're catchy, aren't they? This exciting talk was scheduled during my normal class hour with them.

Still later, I learned that the 9th graders would be leaving early for the annual high school Chanhassen Event (the kids in formal wear have a first-rate meal and then see a show together at the Chanhassen Dinner Theater).

So that emptied my afternoon of classes. Thus I humbly went to Keith, our headmaster, and asked if I could take personal time for the rest of the day. It was after all, 65 and sunny. And he said, "Go for it!" or something more headmasterly to the same effect.

So I headed over to a client's house at 1:15 and started staining her deck in the gorgeous spring weather. Zach was there by 3:30 and also got busy on the spindles. It's going to be GGRRRRREAT! Worked for me!

Staring Year's End in the Face

2008-05-13T12:20:00.000-07:00

We are just a few days from the end of the school year, about eight, I think. Right now there are four eighth grade girls in my room trying to figure out their book project over "The Screwtape Letters". It is amazing how many words per minute an 8th grade girl can say -- easily over 200, I'd guess. JFK was our fastest speaking president, according to historians. In one speech he topped 240 words per minute. I wonder how that would compare to Obama's 3-5 word mantras. But I digress.

Progress on the farm is coming along beautifully. Toby and I are scraping and painting the chicken house as we have time. Evan and Aidan are learning to clean up the yard at the end of the day, and Avery has learned to sleep through the night. Tara is also going to Curves 12 times or more per month because our insurance will pay most of her Curves fees if she does.

As for me, I'm just trying to provide godly leadership in many arenas of life while finishing out the school year's responsibility.

Meet the Realtors

2008-05-09T09:24:00.000-07:00

So we had a meeting with our realtors yesterday, since we have had exactly four showings since April 2, and since all of those came within the first ten days on the market. On the positive side we have lost almost all motivation to keep the house show-ready!

Because the meeting was scheduled for after school, and because we do not want to have to drive one furlong further than we need to, Evan attended the meeting with me. Now most seven-year-olds, I suspect, would rather play a game or read a book while attending an adult business strategy meeting. Not Evan. He paid attention through most of the hour-plus discussion and even contributed his insights as appropriate (and sometimes as more than appropriate). Yes, some of his "insights" were obvious to adults and thus not very insightful, but some of them were very much like adult musings on relevant topics. Once he said something like, "So we need to convince them (the buyer) that our house is really, you know, quiet and peaceful and country, but it's still really close to the city."

Yes, Evan. That is the paradox that we are trying to market.

Because I am a glutton for stress, I supported my wife who said that she and Melanie are having a garage sale at our house on Saturday. So last night, we reconfigured the concrete block barn to conceal that which we shall keep and to reveal that which we shall sell. About 9:35 p.m. I realized that I still need to get the white van running adequately to get to school because the white van is the only van that can tow the trailer, which is the only way I can transport a riding mower to a client's house who happens to want mowing today. When I tried to start the riding mower, the battery groaned and the engine coughed. So I had to connect the riding mower to the white van's battery via jumper cables, and finally got the old beast started. After much jangle and wrangle, the mowers were on the trailer and there was enough water in the cooling system of the van to make it to town. So God saved my sorry tail yet again.

I will let you know if I make it home without mishap. (See, this last sentence builds suspense. Tune in next to find out if...)

Workin' the Farmlet

2008-05-04T19:00:00.000-07:00

What an absolute treat this weekend was... to be able to spend lots of time outdoors and on our farmlet. I call it a farmlet because it reminds me of Shakespeare and because it is so small (4.93 acres) that it really cannot be properly classified as a farm. My farmlet is very old, so it has some real advantages (windbreak pines all grown up) and some real disadvantages (literally everything needs maintenance that has been neglected way too long).

Yesterday I had worship team practice at church in the morning and then a get-together with a friend at Panera. He is excited about almost everything and speaks almost twice as quickly as I do. He is also a very skilled handyman/general contractor and is willing to help me put a wood-burning stove in the old farmhouse. So I said "thank You, God" and told Jay that if we still have the house in late summer we'll do it. We'll need to. I think I would put the wood stove in the parlor so that it not only radiates the heat to the main floor, but also up the stairs to the bedrooms.

After getting home, I was treated with a warm enough afternoon to work outside. Grandpa came out around 1:30 and worked on the tractor with me for a little while. We were trying to get the headlights going. After a little while, it became clear that we were going to need a new fuse and headlight, so we tabled that project until we can get some parts for the Case/International Harvester dealer.

After Grandpa went home, the boys and I cut down a number of saplings growing in unfortunate places. One of the saplings was surrounded by medium-sized rocks (5-35 pounders), so we decided to move those to a more secured location. Actually, Tara wanted a rock garden around the big rock by the deck, so we hitched up the trailer and hauled a nice load of rocks to the side of the deck. Everyone except Avery helped.

Tara would like me to say that she is making a curtain for Avery's room just like the pioneer women did (probably the pioneer women who lived in this house!). She is taking a sheet she bought at Salvation Army and turning it into real curtains. I do not think the pioneer women bought things at Salvation Army.

Evan likes to walk with me around the perimeter of the farm and talk about all kinds of stuff. This is fun for both of us. Talking to Evan is like talking to a child and an adult all at once. It's great to have your kids as some of your best friends. Disclaimer: That doesn't mean in the slightest that I believe you are supposed to try to be your kids' friends in the sense of not exercising authority. I believe in authority and I exercise it regularly. I believe in obedience-on-demand and I insist on it regularly. And I do it all for the glory of God and the joy of the people involved. The best part is that Evan would agree with me and probably defend the idea even more rabidly than I do.

We planted the first two rows of our garden today. We now have peas growing out there as well as cucumbers. Even though it is a small garden, it will be a great experience for the kids to see produce growing on our very own land. There are some experiences you just have to have for yourself.