First Christmas

He got lots of presents, little gift-child!  We think he enjoyed the tree lights.  He most loves the swing that we put in front of the tree, thanks to the Smiths for loaning it!

Daily diaper

...and out of his newborn clothes!

He's growing into his cloth ones....

Second Leg

From the hospital, he travelled to his first temporary quarters at the Air Force Base Inn...

...then on to Tennessee to visit the farm where his daddy grew up.

Welcome home, baby boy!

He slept as he flew out of the hospital.

New Addition

Welcome baby Omari!  Born 15 December 2009, Kansas.

Turkey Trot!

On a team of five, we ran, shuffled, and pushed our aching legs for 4.97 miles!  Through a thin white fog, we trod a track of stately homes and fallen leaves, past deluxe duplexes and fancy hotels back to the Bojangles where the warm biscuits and coffee went home on the arms of moms, dad, and grandpas in bright yellow boxes, the sunshine of happy taste buds.  The start line was packed; it was the obvious the race had sold out.  Though we five started out together, we separated in the massive herd, so Kathryn, Patrick and I ran the whole way together, despite Kat's aching joints and side stitches.  Kristie and Elizabeth kept a brisk pace for themselves, wisely pacing their jog to gently challenge their muscular endurance.  They finished a mere quarter hour after us.

We finished with quickened beat and wheezing lungs--but fast!--over the finish line, right under an hour for the 8K. 

Visiting the hills of Tennessee in the fall of the year is a walk into another world than the one we live daily on the flat coastland. On the flight over, we saw the Appalachians crowned with deep lava-red and girded with remnants of green at their warmer feet, where lakes and winding rivers lie like piles and necklaces of diamonds that glitter in the sun. This time of year, they are no mere hills and hollers. With the sun shining through thinning branches of yellow, red, orange, and punctuated by sturdy evergreens, the wind whistles and hums tunes of long-ago memories and hints of the future, preparation for coming storms.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

I am under the predisposition that all of life points to the glory of the Kingdom. No where should this be more apparent than in our worship. This past Sunday we had the opportunity to worship with a body who allowed the Beauty and Truth in the Liturgy to direct our hearts and minds toward God, the Father.

Anyone who knows me understands that I have a very strong opinion on the act of Worship. I believe it is a never ceasing act that encompasses all of our life. However, there are aspects, such as the sacraments, that you can only engage in corporately. In particular, the act of taking Communion has particular importance to me. For it is there that we feast on the Body and the Blood of our Risen King. And a feast it is indeed. It is no meager meal that consists of a flake of cracker and grape juice. It is a sensory filling feast of warm, wonderful bread and rich, full bodied wine. The fact that we live in such an affluent society and reduce the Body and Blood of our Lord to the cheapest of materials is a tragedy. But I digress. What I witnessed and participated in this past Sunday was a beautiful representation of the Gospel.

After the appropriate fencing of the table the body began to come down. One by one down came the sick, the lame, the depressed, the old and infirm, the young and athletic, children and infants, sinners all. But as they came down to partake of the feast there was hope in their eyes. Though many of their bodies had failed them, their Lord had not. He had come to prepare a feast for us all, and it was beautiful. It was good. Thanks be to God.

And Yet, and always just yet. . .

Life is hard right now. Very scary. Very stressful. The weight of an unforeseen, but very real load weighs down upon us. And yet, just yet, there is hope.

Blest be the God of love,
Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day,
Both to be busy, and to play.
But much more blest be God above,
Who gave me sight alone,
Which to himself he did deny:
For when he sees my ways, I die:
But I have got his son, and he hath none.

What have I brought thee home
For this thy love? have I discharg'd the debt,
Which this day's favour did beget?
I ran; but all I brought, was foam.
Thy diet, care, and cost
Do end in bubbles, balls of wind;
Of wind to thee whom I have crost,
But balls of wild-fire to my troubled mind.

Yet still thou goest on,
And now with darkness closest weary eyes,
Saying to man, It doth suffice:
Henceforth repose; your work is done.
Thus in thy Ebony box
Thou dost enclose us, till the day
Put our amendment in our way,
And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks.

I muse, which shows more love,
The day or night: that is the gale, this th' harbour;
That is the walk, and this the arbour;
Or that the garden, this the grove.
My God, thou art all love.
Not one poor minute 'scapes thy breast,
But brings a favour from above;
And in this love, more than in bed, I rest.

Evensong by George Herbert

We sought a way of escape

The movie, Gigantic, is paradoxical in the worst sense, of being about small-world, admittedly messed up and weird people, who think all their own problems are gigantic (perhaps that's the title's reference??)--again, like we all do--but without changing in a satisfactory way, nor accomplishing anything worthwhile (to themselves), and refusing to face the mess in which they find themselves. And the filming is all gray, grey, dark, gray. We found a good stopping point; the girl was leaving the guy, and she might have come back, but we'll never know...or wonder.

Thoughts On Work

I am slowly learning through my discourse with friends and associates that it is very important to define your terms when walking through a conversation. When speaking a language that is constantly in the process of transforming the meaning of its words, a common meaning is essential. In particular, I have found that this is no where more necessary than in the discussions which take place within the confines of the Church. Of note, when we discuss the intricacies of good works, do we mean my personally defined "good" works, or do we mean art of good work? And really, what is the difference? Perhaps, if you are a Christian, you have spent a great deal of time considering what it means to do "good works", but how much time have you spent considering what it means to do "good work?" Ok, you ask, is there a difference, and if so, what is it?

C.S. Lewis brings up an excellent representation of this in his book, The Joyful Christian. "When our Lord provided a wedding party with an extra glass of wine all around, he was doing good works. But also good work; it was a wine really worth drinking." In short, while a fruit of our faith is finding ourselves serving in good works, we should care that our works may also be recognized as good, as defined by a standard Other than ourself. Okay, fair enough you say, but what defines this good work, and where does it come from?

The easy answer is hope. To borrow from C.S. Lewis yet again; Lewis describes "hope as one of the Theological virtues." And what he means is that hope is an understanding of the here, but not yet. An eschatological view that neither discards the ramifications of this life, nor builds them up to be something more than they really are. Lewis goes on to say that "if you read history, you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were just those who thought more of the next. The Apostles themselves, who set on foot the conversion of the Roman Empire, the great men who built up the Middle Ages, the English evangelicals who fought for the abolition of the slave trade, all left their mark on earth precisely because their minds were occupied with heaven."

If we are only focused on doing good works, we will never do work that is good. It is the same principle that may be applied to your health. Taking care of yourself is an important obligation, but the minute you make your health your number one priority you become a self obsessed human who never rises beyond the minutia of your own selfish needs. Likewise, Lewis goes on to say that "if you aim at heaven, you will get earth thrown in: aim at earth and you will get neither."

By the way. . . Did I tell you that I hate leaving for Dets/Deployments at 0400 in the morning?