bailout schmailout

This, I think, is a perfect cartoon. I know it's important to keep banks from imploding, but I also think that it's folly to reward the sheisters who loaned ridiculous amounts of money to people who couldn't afford to repay them. Their houses get foreclosed and they're SOL, but these crooks who vastly outpaced the homeowners in screw-upness get a shake of the finger and a cushy mattress of cash to fall on, financed by people who are responsible enough to pay their taxes?? How is this at all fair or just?

long time no blog

We are back to a quicker pace now, after a lovely summer of avoiding responsibilities (or, using a more "holy" term: taking a sabbatical). The air is nice and cool coming through the window, crickets are chirping, and D is gathering supplies to make this year's Halloween costume for A. Lego Darth Vader is in the making, D will be a storm trooper, and if I can find my hair-donuts, I'll be reprising my Princess Leia role after a 28-year hiatus. Somehow I don't think I'll fit in my old costume.

*update* After trying on the huge helmet-mask and his snazzy all-black PJ's, A has decided to be Luke Skywalker instead. Having things on his head was always a challenge. He never wore hats as a baby (his weeny head was too small even for newborn hats!), and last year's shark costume was on and off about twenty times during the night because it was too hot, heavy, and bulky. Ah well. Someday he'll see Spaceballs and understand... And now D can truly be his father.

The biggest news for us lately is that we will be making a different church our home for the foreseeable future. For eight years, we have been members of Central Presbyterian in Towson, and have been involved in everything from children's ministry to coordinating art shows, singing at Alpha and brainstorming the next few weeks' worth of content for the contemporary services. At the same time, the people there have been a second family to us, bringing us meals when A was born and when I broke my tailbone (gah!!), arranging a vast schedule of helpers to come lift A after gall bladder surgery prohibited me from lugging my hefty baby around, giving me counsel and prayer and support in every conceivable circumstance, and putting up with my crumudgeonly artist's discontent with things that normal people enjoy. "Don't you think that's cheesy?" I would say in disbelief. Or, "You know, this sermon topic reminds me of a Buffy episode..." My shrink even goes to my church, for a nice disturbing twist...seriously though, he's a great guy and I got to get some of that cash back by giving his kid art lessons. Trusting soul. So yeah, we've been there a while, and they're great. So why leave? We are feeling called by God to do so.

I am usually reticent to use the word "calling" in reference to anything (besides the fact that I have a phone phobia, which is not the topic here). "Calling" is tossed around too freely in the Christian subculture: one can feel called to buy a Toyota, called to be a vegetarian, called to leave one's husband for a gay lover, and called to scrap any bit of the Bible that's offensive, because you "just know" God didn't mean that. It's overused and abused, like many things, but there is still a truth to the idea of calling. Lots of factors seem to come together, that by themselves are not a sign, but as a whole show a very clear direction. So it happened with us.

There is a relatively new church called the Light, and its home is on Charles Street downtown, in the arts district. It was started about a year ago, as a place where artists and creative people can feel embraced and strengthened in the love of Christ. The building is a gallery space/cafe, which becomes the sanctuary on Sundays and a place to have Bible study and fellowship on other nights. Most of the girls I've had the privilege of working with from MICA are members there, plus the pastor used to be the youth group leader at Central and a great friend, plus I saw him at the arts conference I attended in Texas this year...plus they have playdoh and drawing supplies for people to use during the service if they feel so inspired (A is always inspired to make a few hundred sharks and creatures that devour each other during the service). I had been feeling a little restless, like I have been coasting a while in my present state of life with God, and now I feel more like I am roller-coasting. We have gone from a pretty large church with a lot more mature believers and children, to a very small church where D and I are almost the oldest ones there, and A is the only kid. He doesn't mind, really, as he gets showered with attention by everyone (yeah, big change), and they think he's cute. They're not wrong.

As you know, I don't deal well with change, but this is the first major decision we've made that I haven't felt physically sick about. There have been so many supportive people praying for us and sending us out, in a way like missionaries, and I don't feel that deep sense of guilt for disappointing people. The challenges at this point are ones I'm familiar with: increased responsibility and leadership in a church means increased attacks of depression and anxiety, evil thoughts and temptations. There's a reason more pastors are involved in horrible scandals than your average person--they're a much easier target because they are in the spotlight, trying to help people and do good things. No one wants that! At least, satan doesn't. Not to be dramatic, but it's true all the same. Just this weekend, I found myself getting very anxious and crabby over things that have not bothered me in ages. I hear that "injured voice" in my head more often, the one that says everyone should know and be filling my needs and they obviously don't care so blah and phooey on them, and why can't D take the trash out before the bag bursts, instead of cramming one more coffee cup in there, and how hard is it to write things on the frigging calendar and must A hum the Darth Vader song for hours on end... And then I look around at the dishes (my job, neglected daily), the cracker crumbs on the floor (vacuuming, my job as well), the pile of correspondence that has just gotten thicker on my desk, the fish tank that's covered in orangey muck again, after just cleaning it last week so I'm sure I don't know what to do, and on and on. Then every little responsibility turns into a reason to have a racing mind and a quick temper. Then I can second-guess every conversation and waste hours wondering if I've offended someone deeply, and ultimately I can feel like the fraud and failure I know myself to be, and just give up leading other people when I'm just a stupid sheep myself. Does anyone else feel anxious now?

Forewarned is fore-armed, I think the saying goes. Fore-arm? Just seems awkward. But anyway, I know this to have happened before, and I know that it's just an attempt to sideline work that is good and useful. I also know that if other people know about it I'll be much less likely to nurse injured feelings and be ridiculous--at least in that way. I also know this passage well: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. I don't think I come close to delighting in any of the aforementioned, but I do know their use and power, mainly after the fact, to help other people and remind me of God's faithfulness. I wish that wasn't the way God worked, because it really does knock one off one's pedestal and send over-achieving competetive worry-warts into fits of rage, but once that's over I can calmly be led to wherever I'm called, and make the best of it.

68

My son's favorite number is sixty-eight. To him, it signifies something impossibly large and amazing, like infinity. Since he can barely count to twenty without help, 68 is truly unfathomable.

Tonight he was talking about his plans for the evening, the highlight of which is playing the Lego Star Wars game with Daddy. He's pretty good at it (A, I mean...D of course could play it in his sleep), and his favorite character to play is Darth Vader.

As D and A were talking about it, D asked if A liked Darth Vader, and this was A's response:

"I love him more than I hate him! I hate him two times and I love him sixty-eight times!"

He is sixty-eight cute.

catch-all post

I don't know if it will really "catch all" my thoughts of late, and I don't think anyone would really want to be privy to all my thoughts, to be sure. But here are things that don't warrant long posts, but just what is on my mind...

• we watched the 1946 version (? date?) of Pride and Prejudice, with Laurence Olivier and Greer Garson, and it was much better than I had anticipated. The costumes were less than period, bordering on a cross between hairdressers in the land of Oz and a Dickens 1840's piece, but even with the obvious visual absurdities they got the spirit of the book. Elizabeth's mother was a foolish, blustering imbecile, her father droll and resigned, her silly sisters very embarrassing, and Darcy taking it all in with characteristic distaste and pity. Olivier's reaction as Darcy to Elizabeth's refusal was perfect. I think that the mark of a superb actor is not how they say things, but what they do when they aren't saying anything at all. They show that there's a brain inside that beautiful head (and might I mention, Olivier's was quite beautiful), who has fully become the character. I hadn't seen Greer Garson in anything but the blub-your-eyes-out Mrs. Miniver, so it was interesting to see her playing a comedic role.
  
• Another brilliant piece of cinema I recently saw in New York was Tropic Thunder. Well, brilliant is stretching it but I have not laughed that hard in a movie since the Incredibles. I might have embarrassed myself laughing too hard if others weren't doing the same. The humor is raunchy at times, disgusting at times, but also a spot-on send-up of Hollywood, method acting, diva behavior, and the trend of fabricated memoirs. Tom Cruise plays a smaller part than the three main guys (Downey Jr, Stiller, Jack Black), but his role as the soulless movie executive alone is reason to watch the movie. Cruise is creepy in real life, but I still think he's hot. What can I do? This movie completely jettisoned his good looks for a fat suit, ample body hair (except up top), gold rings and a taste for rap. It's crazy gross.
  
• I have discovered that Legos are hazardous to my health. Actually, the way I sit while I'm building stuff with A has been the culprit in making my left hip a real mess. I thought it was all the gardening and bending and lifting which might have started it, but I've also spent hours sitting Indian-style on a hard floor all summer, or sitting at the computer with one leg tucked under me, and now my obliques and back are wacked. So I've been going to physical therapy a couple of times a week, and am really trying hard to be aware of how I am sitting so that these exercises are not wasted. But it's a pain, and I haven't figured out a good way to continue playing with A that won't mess me up.
  
• Since starting PT, I have seen several of my former teaching colleagues in random places. It's been really interesting to hear how former students are doing, families of teachers growing, and being able to truthfully say that I am doing well and enjoy being a mom. I don't know if these people have appeared in my life now to remind me of that, or if it's "just coincidence--" my favorite mystery-story sleuth Maisie Dobbs says coincidence is a messenger sent by truth, and I am inclined to agree. I see my three years of teaching there as a crucible, where I finally learned that I cannot be a workaholic and expect to be sane, where I realized my search for identity was wrapped up in my hopes for students, and I expected way too much from them and myself. I learned too that if I expected to be treated as an adult by my superiors, I needed to become more assertive and not take things so personally. And then I got pregnant when my close friend and colleague had just had her third miscarriage, and shook my head at the inscrutable ways of God. She has since had two babies, which I am so thrilled about, but at the time it was so difficult sharing an office and feeling so conflicted, not being able to talk about any of it because it was so painful. And I had three "scares" as well, as it seemed that A wasn't going to hold on or I wouldn't be able to provide a cozy home for the little bean. That's a lot of goings-on in three years, not to mention the sniper scare, the 2000 election, and September 11, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq...
  
• Speaking of huge events and crucial elections, wow. I was completely shocked to find my own eyes filling up with tears when Obama gave his speech at the convention. D makes it a habit to listen to everything on CNN, unedited speeches and the like (or ones that haven't been chopped into sound bites) and then tells me what interests him in all of it. Up till now I have remained, if not unbiased (as I have voted Republican more often than not), then thoroughly skeptical of any promise, movement, political event, etc. All of the elections have been this sham play of insults, character assasination, false hopes, and the sort of wink-wink feeling I get that once all the big boys get back in their offices everything will be the exact same as it has been, whichever party happens to hold the reins. Big corporations, vested interests, lobbyists, all of those people are so thoroughly entrenched in both parties that I had resigned myself to picking the President with a grimace on my face. "It could be worse," I have said each election. Listening to the Obama speech, I felt something completely different. I felt like, for once in my life, a candidate is talking about bigger things than party crap and hurling insults at their opponent (though there was a bit of that...). He talked about a vision, a mood, a unity of purpose--something I'm struggling to find words for, but it was lighter, it was hopeful and human. There was Truth, and perhaps that is what has been missing for so very long in public discourse. And it's not just the fact that here is a man who is calling men to account (keep it up! every woman will vote for that!), and it isn't even the fact that here is someone who can string more than two words together without filling me with embarrassment or boredom, but it was a completely new experience of feeling like somebody understands what I care about, and they care about that too. If only he had picked someone other than Biden, who is a total stooge. At least Biden will be used to sitting in congress and doing nothing. I hope he can keep is yap shut.
  

With that, I'm going to shut my own yap for the night.