Erica and I are really growing in our marriage during this trip.
She is learning to like sudoku and blogging.
I am learning to like dogs and children.
We are finally understanding each other!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
A continuation of thoughts shared recently...
When I skimmed Bonhoeffer's Life Together in college, I remember these paragraphs being profound. This time around, the ring even more true to me.
"Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. He will only do harm to himself and to the community. Alone you stood before God when he called you; alone you had to answer that call; alone you had to struggle and pray; and alone you will die and give account to God. You cannot escape from yourself, for God has singled you out. If you refuse to be alone you are rejecting Christ's call to you, and you can have no part in the community of those who are called. 'The challenge of death comes to us all, and no one can die for another. Everyone must fight his own battle with death by himself, alone. . .I will not be with you then, nor you with me.' (Luther)
But the reverse is also true: Let him who is not in community beware of being alone. Into the community you were called, the call was not meant for you alone; in the community of the called you bear your cross, you struggle, you pray. You are not alone, even in death, and on the Last Day you will be only one member of the great congregation of Jesus Christ. If you scorn the fellowship of the brethren, you reject the call of Jesus Christ, and thus your solitude can only be hurful to you. 'If I die, then I am not along in death; if I suffer they [the fellowship] suffer with me.' (Luther)
We recognize, then, that only as we are within the fellowship can we be alone, and only he that is alone can live in the fellowship. Only in the fellowship do we learn to be rightly alone and only in aloneness do we learn to live rightly in the fellowship. It is not as though the one preceded the other; both begin at the same time, namely, with the call of Jesus Christ.
Each by itself has profound pitfalls and perils. One who wants fellowship without solitude plunges into the void of words and feelings, and one who seeks solitude without fellowship perishes in the abyss of vanity, self-infatuation, and despair.
Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. Let him who is not in community beware of being alone."
When I skimmed Bonhoeffer's Life Together in college, I remember these paragraphs being profound. This time around, the ring even more true to me.
"Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. He will only do harm to himself and to the community. Alone you stood before God when he called you; alone you had to answer that call; alone you had to struggle and pray; and alone you will die and give account to God. You cannot escape from yourself, for God has singled you out. If you refuse to be alone you are rejecting Christ's call to you, and you can have no part in the community of those who are called. 'The challenge of death comes to us all, and no one can die for another. Everyone must fight his own battle with death by himself, alone. . .I will not be with you then, nor you with me.' (Luther)
But the reverse is also true: Let him who is not in community beware of being alone. Into the community you were called, the call was not meant for you alone; in the community of the called you bear your cross, you struggle, you pray. You are not alone, even in death, and on the Last Day you will be only one member of the great congregation of Jesus Christ. If you scorn the fellowship of the brethren, you reject the call of Jesus Christ, and thus your solitude can only be hurful to you. 'If I die, then I am not along in death; if I suffer they [the fellowship] suffer with me.' (Luther)
We recognize, then, that only as we are within the fellowship can we be alone, and only he that is alone can live in the fellowship. Only in the fellowship do we learn to be rightly alone and only in aloneness do we learn to live rightly in the fellowship. It is not as though the one preceded the other; both begin at the same time, namely, with the call of Jesus Christ.
Each by itself has profound pitfalls and perils. One who wants fellowship without solitude plunges into the void of words and feelings, and one who seeks solitude without fellowship perishes in the abyss of vanity, self-infatuation, and despair.
Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. Let him who is not in community beware of being alone."
Monday, June 18, 2007
On our way to find a bench on which to sit and read, we walked under the tower, past the extremely long line to go up. We saw several large groups of young, active children, apparently on a field trip. This happened again when we entered the metro to head home. We got stuck behind a large crowd of screaming children trying to be corralled through the admission bars. While both scenes made me smile, I had to wonder which is worse: being in charge of middle schoolers at the zoo or elementary schoolers at the Eiffel Tower. Surprisingly, I think I'd take the zoo, but I'd decline both if possible.
We found a bench, in the shade, far enough away from the crowds, with the tower peeking through the trees. Here is what I wrote:
To our left stands the Eiffel Tower, tall and proud. It surprises me every time I look up from my book, reminding me that this is no leisurely afternoon in Bethlehem, which I had obviously somehow forgotten. Also to the left down on the path is a large mud puddle where several birds stop to bathe or drink. When they bathe, they shake and twist themselves violently. When they drink, they stretch their neck up and out and choke back the murky water. Both acts are quite humorous.
To our right sit four men squeezed onto a bench, relaxing, biding their time, and discussing various topics in such a way that their boisterous French echoes through the park. At one point, the younger husky man on the left gives his seat to a man whose little remaining hair is also white. He's wearing round black glasses similar to the ones George Burns chose to wear. Around the same time, the man in the blue vest with saggy eyes who watched me take the picture of them puts on his sunglasses, making him look even more hip for his age than he already was looking.
Next to the four-peas-in-a-pod stand three groups of old men skillfully playing boccie, seeming to have the time of their lives. This is the life, indeed, spending your retired days playing boccie in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower for hours on end. Several minutes ago a young girl with headphones and a microphone walked around to each of them, having them speak into her recording equipment. I think they were disturbed by the distraction to their game, but quite pleased with the attention from such a nice looking young lady. I wonder if she's working for "This French Life." I want to hear her show.
An older gentleman sits on the bench across from us outside of all the activity. He is staring at the boccie games longingly like a lonely, left-out middle schooler.
Two older men sit on the bench next to us in a similar fashion. (Are we out of place, here? I don't mind.) They seem to want to join in the action, but are content talking with each other. When three young ladies ride by on bicycles, they greet them pleasantly, or creepily, depending on how you want to look at it.
In the meantime, another group just pulled a loose bench over to the group of four, making it seven in all. The more the merrier. And it's obvious they rule this place and can do as they please. If they want an extra bench, they'll get their extra bench, no questions asked.
Whenever I talk about the wish to live at college without the schoolwork, I think this is what I'm wishing for. Retirement in Paris. Boccie, benches, sweater vests, and plenty of conversation. Who's in? See you over here in - what - 40 years?
We found a bench, in the shade, far enough away from the crowds, with the tower peeking through the trees. Here is what I wrote:To our left stands the Eiffel Tower, tall and proud. It surprises me every time I look up from my book, reminding me that this is no leisurely afternoon in Bethlehem, which I had obviously somehow forgotten. Also to the left down on the path is a large mud puddle where several birds stop to bathe or drink. When they bathe, they shake and twist themselves violently. When they drink, they stretch their neck up and out and choke back the murky water. Both acts are quite humorous.
To our right sit four men squeezed onto a bench, relaxing, biding their time, and discussing various topics in such a way that their boisterous French echoes through the park. At one point, the younger husky man on the left gives his seat to a man whose little remaining hair is also white. He's wearing round black glasses similar to the ones George Burns chose to wear. Around the same time, the man in the blue vest with saggy eyes who watched me take the picture of them puts on his sunglasses, making him look even more hip for his age than he already was looking.
Next to the four-peas-in-a-pod stand three groups of old men skillfully playing boccie, seeming to have the time of their lives. This is the life, indeed, spending your retired days playing boccie in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower for hours on end. Several minutes ago a young girl with headphones and a microphone walked around to each of them, having them speak into her recording equipment. I think they were disturbed by the distraction to their game, but quite pleased with the attention from such a nice looking young lady. I wonder if she's working for "This French Life." I want to hear her show.An older gentleman sits on the bench across from us outside of all the activity. He is staring at the boccie games longingly like a lonely, left-out middle schooler.
Two older men sit on the bench next to us in a similar fashion. (Are we out of place, here? I don't mind.) They seem to want to join in the action, but are content talking with each other. When three young ladies ride by on bicycles, they greet them pleasantly, or creepily, depending on how you want to look at it.
In the meantime, another group just pulled a loose bench over to the group of four, making it seven in all. The more the merrier. And it's obvious they rule this place and can do as they please. If they want an extra bench, they'll get their extra bench, no questions asked.
Whenever I talk about the wish to live at college without the schoolwork, I think this is what I'm wishing for. Retirement in Paris. Boccie, benches, sweater vests, and plenty of conversation. Who's in? See you over here in - what - 40 years?
I'll continue posting general musings and random thoughts here. But in the meantime, keep up with us at shorbsinfrance.blogspot.com.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
For as unproductive as yesterday felt, this morning is DEFINITELY making up for it.
I have already tied up all sorts of loose odds and ends, and have cleaned four rooms and the hallway.
Shouldn't it be at least 3:00 or 4 by now? Shouldn't we be at the airport? Or at least on our way?
But I can't stop now. Talking about how productive you are always makes you suddenly and quickly unproductive.
So...knock on wood...or something like that...Let's keep moving. Eat lunch, run to bank and post office, keep cleaning, finish packing, make a few stops in Coopersburg, and we're off.
And all of this is still pretty unbelievable. There have been plenty of times throughout the day where we've said:
"Erica?"
"Yeah?"
"We're going to Paris tonight."
And then we just look at each other with wide eyes of disbelief.
I have already tied up all sorts of loose odds and ends, and have cleaned four rooms and the hallway.
Shouldn't it be at least 3:00 or 4 by now? Shouldn't we be at the airport? Or at least on our way?
But I can't stop now. Talking about how productive you are always makes you suddenly and quickly unproductive.
So...knock on wood...or something like that...Let's keep moving. Eat lunch, run to bank and post office, keep cleaning, finish packing, make a few stops in Coopersburg, and we're off.
And all of this is still pretty unbelievable. There have been plenty of times throughout the day where we've said:
"Erica?"
"Yeah?"
"We're going to Paris tonight."
And then we just look at each other with wide eyes of disbelief.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
After rereading the first chapter of Bonhoeffer's Life Together, studying and teaching chapter 2 of Ephesians, and discussing certain characteristics of my generation with some others, I've reached some disheartening conclusions.
Speaking very generally, I think what characterizes Christians in my generation is a passion for an array of causes they see as being ignored by older generations. The list of causes is long: balance in politics, helping the poor and social justice, environmentalism, appreciation of art, fighting AIDS and other crises in third world countries, and so on and so forth.
All of these causes are important, valid, righteous, and even Christlike. It is encouraging to see people fighting for them with fervor.
But also speaking very generally, I think what characterizes Christians in my generation is a rejection of the church and a lack of interest in seriously learning more about God through his written revelation.
We are concerned about these various causes, then, but not about fellowship with others in the church nor about seeking out who God is. I think this means two things. First, the causes for which we are fighting are not based necessarily on God himself, but rather on our haphazard opinion or unresearched idea of God. (In other words, they could very well simply be our causes and not God's.) Second, our fellowship with others is based on our agreement in a chosen cause rather than on Christ himself. We find our identity in that cause and relate to others who have chosen a similar identity, creating exclusive, homogeneous subcultures founded around our cause rather than inclusive, heterogeneous communities founded around Christ.
What is most tragic about this conclusion is that we are now relating to each other in the same way the world relates: on terms centered around our shallow, superficial, self-made identities. Put another way, we're simply trying to be cool. We are now "of the world" in a very subtle way, even despite feeling passionately about an interest we see as Christlike. We are not acting differently in the ways we are called to be so drastically different and new!
But Ephesians 2 talks about our new identity being founded in God, enabling us to fellowship with all sorts of people in and on and through Christ. And when all sorts of people are united in Christ (ie: The Church!), it displays Christ and his glory in the fullest way possible. If Christ is the head of our body, it takes the whole body to represent that head. An eye, or rather, a group of eyes, cannot represent the head by itself, neither can a finger or an elbow or a group of fingers or a group of elbows. And of course, the body is incomplete without the eye, the finger, or the elbow. Each one of us plays a vital, unique part in the body, coming together to represent Christ in his fullness.
You cannot represent the fullness of Christ on your own or with a group of people that are just like you. And the church cannot represent the fullness of Christ without someone like you filling a unique, otherwise empty role.
Now, I understand our rejection of the church has some very legitimate reasons. But if we can understand how vital the church is to God's plan and recognize that it's not about having our personal needs met or feeling comfortable or being served or fitting in, maybe we can commit ourselves to involvement and service in the church in order to change it for the better. It's going to take some swallowing of pride, some taking the good with the bad, some sacrifice and patience. And "changing it for the better" isn't going to be necessarily because you're convincing your local church to be fully on-board with your chosen cause. Maybe you're changing it for the better simply because you were a part of the body they were missing, and your involvement is making it more complete.
And what's the goal of coming together as a church? Not to fight for all our causes, necessarily. Sure, that may become part of it, but only if they are not just OUR causes but GOD'S causes. And that's the goal exactly: to glorify God and make him known in his fullness to the people around us.
And I am speaking here from very personal experience. Two years ago, Erica and I decided to commit ourselves to the church I grew up in. We were hesitant about it at first, and still are some days, but we have grown in tremendous ways because of it. And hopefully the church is in some way representing Christ more fully with us there.
May our generation be a less concerned about being cool and making God cool. May we recommit ourselves to the church, fellowship in and on and through Christ, and pursuing the knowledge of who God truly is.
Eph 2:19-22 "Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit."
Do you agree or disagree? I want to hear about it.
related thoughts
Speaking very generally, I think what characterizes Christians in my generation is a passion for an array of causes they see as being ignored by older generations. The list of causes is long: balance in politics, helping the poor and social justice, environmentalism, appreciation of art, fighting AIDS and other crises in third world countries, and so on and so forth.
All of these causes are important, valid, righteous, and even Christlike. It is encouraging to see people fighting for them with fervor.
But also speaking very generally, I think what characterizes Christians in my generation is a rejection of the church and a lack of interest in seriously learning more about God through his written revelation.
We are concerned about these various causes, then, but not about fellowship with others in the church nor about seeking out who God is. I think this means two things. First, the causes for which we are fighting are not based necessarily on God himself, but rather on our haphazard opinion or unresearched idea of God. (In other words, they could very well simply be our causes and not God's.) Second, our fellowship with others is based on our agreement in a chosen cause rather than on Christ himself. We find our identity in that cause and relate to others who have chosen a similar identity, creating exclusive, homogeneous subcultures founded around our cause rather than inclusive, heterogeneous communities founded around Christ.
What is most tragic about this conclusion is that we are now relating to each other in the same way the world relates: on terms centered around our shallow, superficial, self-made identities. Put another way, we're simply trying to be cool. We are now "of the world" in a very subtle way, even despite feeling passionately about an interest we see as Christlike. We are not acting differently in the ways we are called to be so drastically different and new!
But Ephesians 2 talks about our new identity being founded in God, enabling us to fellowship with all sorts of people in and on and through Christ. And when all sorts of people are united in Christ (ie: The Church!), it displays Christ and his glory in the fullest way possible. If Christ is the head of our body, it takes the whole body to represent that head. An eye, or rather, a group of eyes, cannot represent the head by itself, neither can a finger or an elbow or a group of fingers or a group of elbows. And of course, the body is incomplete without the eye, the finger, or the elbow. Each one of us plays a vital, unique part in the body, coming together to represent Christ in his fullness.
You cannot represent the fullness of Christ on your own or with a group of people that are just like you. And the church cannot represent the fullness of Christ without someone like you filling a unique, otherwise empty role.
Now, I understand our rejection of the church has some very legitimate reasons. But if we can understand how vital the church is to God's plan and recognize that it's not about having our personal needs met or feeling comfortable or being served or fitting in, maybe we can commit ourselves to involvement and service in the church in order to change it for the better. It's going to take some swallowing of pride, some taking the good with the bad, some sacrifice and patience. And "changing it for the better" isn't going to be necessarily because you're convincing your local church to be fully on-board with your chosen cause. Maybe you're changing it for the better simply because you were a part of the body they were missing, and your involvement is making it more complete.
And what's the goal of coming together as a church? Not to fight for all our causes, necessarily. Sure, that may become part of it, but only if they are not just OUR causes but GOD'S causes. And that's the goal exactly: to glorify God and make him known in his fullness to the people around us.
And I am speaking here from very personal experience. Two years ago, Erica and I decided to commit ourselves to the church I grew up in. We were hesitant about it at first, and still are some days, but we have grown in tremendous ways because of it. And hopefully the church is in some way representing Christ more fully with us there.
May our generation be a less concerned about being cool and making God cool. May we recommit ourselves to the church, fellowship in and on and through Christ, and pursuing the knowledge of who God truly is.
Eph 2:19-22 "Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit."
Do you agree or disagree? I want to hear about it.
related thoughts
Saturday, June 09, 2007
I'm gonna go out on a limb here, take a risk, and let you know that I really enjoyed--and even hesitantly recommend--the movie KNOCKED UP.
We took a chance on it tonight after reading some intriguing reviews and receiving some recommendations. It paid off this time around.
If you can get past lots of f-bombs, a dose of crudeness, some drug use, and a few other R-rated items, you'll find an excellently done comedy with a rich social commentary.
I realize that sentence sounds like I'm justifying something I shouldn't be, but I really don't think that's the case. The movie truly is fabulously done: the writing, acting, character development, delivery; it's everything that few comedies can achieve nowadays. Everything, for the most part, is realistically portrayed. The crude humor as well is realistic, and very little of it is exploited. The filmmakers could have easily made this a dirty movie (meaning dirty simply for the sake of being dirty, realizing many in certain circles will see it as being dirty already) if they wanted to, but I feel they were responsible and realistic through it all.
When so many movies are portraying an irresponsible and immature lifestyle as being glamorous, fun, and consequence-free, it's refreshing to see a movie delve into similar themes and showing the true picture, while keeping its delivery fresh, fun, and meaningful.
So, if you're wary of well-deserved R-ratings, don't rush out to see it. If you see it, take time to think about it. And if someone else tells you they saw it, ask them what they thought.
**UPDATE: Before seeing this movie, I really hadn't heard much about it other than a recommendation from a friend and a few reviews I checked out before going. After seeing the movie and reading a little more, I realize my endorsement might come as a shock to some people. World Magazine, for example, calls it a "profanity-laced raunch-fest," and they are pretty much correct in saying that. Don't take my recommendation to mean everyone should rush out and see it. That being said, I stand by my recommendation. But before you think I'm a bad Christian because of it, ask me about it sometime and we'll talk.
(And maybe I feel compelled to add this disclaimer just because there is a link to this blog on our France blog, the address of which was printed in our church's bulletin this morning.)
We took a chance on it tonight after reading some intriguing reviews and receiving some recommendations. It paid off this time around.
If you can get past lots of f-bombs, a dose of crudeness, some drug use, and a few other R-rated items, you'll find an excellently done comedy with a rich social commentary.
I realize that sentence sounds like I'm justifying something I shouldn't be, but I really don't think that's the case. The movie truly is fabulously done: the writing, acting, character development, delivery; it's everything that few comedies can achieve nowadays. Everything, for the most part, is realistically portrayed. The crude humor as well is realistic, and very little of it is exploited. The filmmakers could have easily made this a dirty movie (meaning dirty simply for the sake of being dirty, realizing many in certain circles will see it as being dirty already) if they wanted to, but I feel they were responsible and realistic through it all.
When so many movies are portraying an irresponsible and immature lifestyle as being glamorous, fun, and consequence-free, it's refreshing to see a movie delve into similar themes and showing the true picture, while keeping its delivery fresh, fun, and meaningful.
So, if you're wary of well-deserved R-ratings, don't rush out to see it. If you see it, take time to think about it. And if someone else tells you they saw it, ask them what they thought.
**UPDATE: Before seeing this movie, I really hadn't heard much about it other than a recommendation from a friend and a few reviews I checked out before going. After seeing the movie and reading a little more, I realize my endorsement might come as a shock to some people. World Magazine, for example, calls it a "profanity-laced raunch-fest," and they are pretty much correct in saying that. Don't take my recommendation to mean everyone should rush out and see it. That being said, I stand by my recommendation. But before you think I'm a bad Christian because of it, ask me about it sometime and we'll talk.
(And maybe I feel compelled to add this disclaimer just because there is a link to this blog on our France blog, the address of which was printed in our church's bulletin this morning.)
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Tonight I went for a walk in the historic side of town. I meandered into the old cemetery on Church Street, something I've been meaning to do for a while. I eventually discovered a large marble platform, with a circular monument in the middle and a circular marble sitting area surrounding the outer edge. Two large graves were in the middle of the monument with a landscaped bed around them. The outside of the circular bed read, "What is good, and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?"
It was the most elaborate gravesite in the cemetery, so I wrote down the names to do some research. The monument belongs to the family of Eugene Gifford Grace, who happened to be a former president of Bethlehem Steel.
The abandoned Bethlehem Steel site is now being turned into a casino, among many other things. And while I doubt the success of this project and object to it for a variety of reasons, I must admit I oppose its renovation mostly because I love the way these old, abandoned buildings look, evoking all sorts of colossal memories of when Bethlehem was the center of the American industrial economy. They started demolition about a month ago, and all of my favorite buildings are gone already, leaving the site looking strikingly empty.
I realize most people think the abandoned factories are an eyesore. For some reason, I see so much magnificent beauty there. To see it turned into a casino of all things, with all sorts of glitz and glamor, glowing in neon iniquity, is nothing short of a travesty.
And seeing those head honcho businessmen and politicians in their three piece suits and hard hats breaking ground and celebrating a new era in Bethlehem, one couldn't help but wonder what sorts of dishonesty, corruption, and sleaze went into these big decisions.
Mr. Grace was a head honcho businessman. I wonder if putting Micah 6:8 on his grave was his decision. Were they his words to live by? Did he run his business on those principles? Or were they merely more seductive rhetoric? (Habits like those are hard to break, even in death.) Perhaps it was a realization at the end of his life, final words of truth from a wise old man who had accomplished much, but regretted a few things in hindsight. I wonder if any of those politicians pushing for slots to solve all our problems have ever visited Mr. Grace's grave.
It's ironic that I'm speaking about deceit and corruption here, because as I said, it's not really the morality of the situation that bothers me so much. For me, it's the lack of appreciation for and destruction of something I see as beautiful. What's that say about me?
It was the most elaborate gravesite in the cemetery, so I wrote down the names to do some research. The monument belongs to the family of Eugene Gifford Grace, who happened to be a former president of Bethlehem Steel.
The abandoned Bethlehem Steel site is now being turned into a casino, among many other things. And while I doubt the success of this project and object to it for a variety of reasons, I must admit I oppose its renovation mostly because I love the way these old, abandoned buildings look, evoking all sorts of colossal memories of when Bethlehem was the center of the American industrial economy. They started demolition about a month ago, and all of my favorite buildings are gone already, leaving the site looking strikingly empty.
I realize most people think the abandoned factories are an eyesore. For some reason, I see so much magnificent beauty there. To see it turned into a casino of all things, with all sorts of glitz and glamor, glowing in neon iniquity, is nothing short of a travesty.
And seeing those head honcho businessmen and politicians in their three piece suits and hard hats breaking ground and celebrating a new era in Bethlehem, one couldn't help but wonder what sorts of dishonesty, corruption, and sleaze went into these big decisions.
Mr. Grace was a head honcho businessman. I wonder if putting Micah 6:8 on his grave was his decision. Were they his words to live by? Did he run his business on those principles? Or were they merely more seductive rhetoric? (Habits like those are hard to break, even in death.) Perhaps it was a realization at the end of his life, final words of truth from a wise old man who had accomplished much, but regretted a few things in hindsight. I wonder if any of those politicians pushing for slots to solve all our problems have ever visited Mr. Grace's grave.
It's ironic that I'm speaking about deceit and corruption here, because as I said, it's not really the morality of the situation that bothers me so much. For me, it's the lack of appreciation for and destruction of something I see as beautiful. What's that say about me?
Monday, June 04, 2007
My assistant principal called me down to discuss a few things and say goodbye before things got too busy. I returned to my room and continued packing up. iTunes started playing "Sparkplug Minuet" from Royal Tenenbaums and it was all too fitting.
Two years ago on this day, Erica and I began a new adventure together. It was two weeks after I had graduated from college. We moved into our new place in a new town. Neither of us had jobs, but both of us found some and began them in September.
Now, two years later, Erica has finished up her job. I have two days left at mine. We'll leave for France next week. I'll return to a new job in August, and Erica will be looking for one as well. And this summer may very well find us pursuing a move to a different country. That's to be determined.
And so it seems we Shorbs never do transitions in small doses. It's all or nothing. Keeps life interesting, I guess.
And this brings up several life announcements that have yet to be made official on this blog...
The first, which has been mentioned, is that we'll be spending two months in France this summer. We leave June 14th. For the first 5 weeks, we'll live in an apartment on the southwest side of Paris. We'll visit missionaries, go to language school, visit museums, and do "cultural studies." During week 6, we'll travel to Malaga, Spain for a European missions conference. We'll take care of the kids while we're there. In our last week and a half, we'll be hopping around France, spending a few days is Marseille, Montpellier, and Strasbourg. We return to the US on August 7th. The whole trip is aimed at seeing if full-time missions in France is a good fit for us. Time will tell. Check out shorbsinfrance.blogspot.com for updates.
The second announcement is that I will not be returning to my school next year. I was offered a new job at a local private school, and I've decided to take it. I'll be teaching 5th grade science. It's going to be a big switch. Making this change is bittersweet in many ways, but I'm looking forward to the new opportunity.
So there you have it. The big announcements are official in blogworld. And with that, let's all join in with Alice Cooper singing,
Two years ago on this day, Erica and I began a new adventure together. It was two weeks after I had graduated from college. We moved into our new place in a new town. Neither of us had jobs, but both of us found some and began them in September.
Now, two years later, Erica has finished up her job. I have two days left at mine. We'll leave for France next week. I'll return to a new job in August, and Erica will be looking for one as well. And this summer may very well find us pursuing a move to a different country. That's to be determined.
And so it seems we Shorbs never do transitions in small doses. It's all or nothing. Keeps life interesting, I guess.
And this brings up several life announcements that have yet to be made official on this blog...
The first, which has been mentioned, is that we'll be spending two months in France this summer. We leave June 14th. For the first 5 weeks, we'll live in an apartment on the southwest side of Paris. We'll visit missionaries, go to language school, visit museums, and do "cultural studies." During week 6, we'll travel to Malaga, Spain for a European missions conference. We'll take care of the kids while we're there. In our last week and a half, we'll be hopping around France, spending a few days is Marseille, Montpellier, and Strasbourg. We return to the US on August 7th. The whole trip is aimed at seeing if full-time missions in France is a good fit for us. Time will tell. Check out shorbsinfrance.blogspot.com for updates.
The second announcement is that I will not be returning to my school next year. I was offered a new job at a local private school, and I've decided to take it. I'll be teaching 5th grade science. It's going to be a big switch. Making this change is bittersweet in many ways, but I'm looking forward to the new opportunity.
So there you have it. The big announcements are official in blogworld. And with that, let's all join in with Alice Cooper singing,
SCHOOOOOOOL'S OUT FOR SUMMER!
SCHOOOOOOOOL'S OUT FOR EVER!
SCHOOOOOOOL'S BEEN BLOWN TO PIECES!
SCHOOOOOOOOL'S OUT FOR EVER!
SCHOOOOOOOL'S BEEN BLOWN TO PIECES!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Last night Wes and I traveled to Philly to visit Rata and experience First Friday in Old City.
With indecisiveness and the threat of thunderstorms, we weren't able to soak in all that First Friday has to offer as much as we would have liked. But it was full of wonderful moments nonetheless.
We stopped by plenty of art galleries. Some shows left me unaffected, and others struck me to the point where Wes and Rata had to stand by the door and wait for me to pry myself away.
One artist's impressionist cityscapes made me want to stare for much longer than I was able to.
At the Drexel Senior Photography exhibit (held in the same building where Real World Philadelphia was located), a girl named Colleen Keihm presented some starkly plain images of what can be seen in every small country church across the USA. A picture of the Last Supper hung all alone on the wall of the church kitchen concerned me, amused me, puzzled me, intrigued me. These photos were so familiar to me, representing my childhood. They intrigued me in an inexplicable way, and I had to walk away entirely too soon, with a curious smile on my face.
And at the Persian Rug gallery, an artist displayed a haiku in one of his/her pieces that has been echoing in my mind ever since:
The scent of pollen
neither sweet nor unpleasant
nudges memories.
Wes and I ended the evening my climbing up Rata's web of fire escapes up to the roof of her building on 21st and Locust. We looked out over the city, the most prominent buildings of Philly's skyline just a short distance in front of us. I determined then that if I lived in a place like that, I would spend pretty much every spare moment hanging out on the roof. I would read, eat meals, play ukulele. The times when I would be feeling most expressive I would even break out the saxophone and let it pour over the city and echo through the buildings. Maybe I would even have a cage for my pet falcon. Fly, Mordecai, fly!
Yes, that would be nice.
With indecisiveness and the threat of thunderstorms, we weren't able to soak in all that First Friday has to offer as much as we would have liked. But it was full of wonderful moments nonetheless.
We stopped by plenty of art galleries. Some shows left me unaffected, and others struck me to the point where Wes and Rata had to stand by the door and wait for me to pry myself away.
One artist's impressionist cityscapes made me want to stare for much longer than I was able to.
At the Drexel Senior Photography exhibit (held in the same building where Real World Philadelphia was located), a girl named Colleen Keihm presented some starkly plain images of what can be seen in every small country church across the USA. A picture of the Last Supper hung all alone on the wall of the church kitchen concerned me, amused me, puzzled me, intrigued me. These photos were so familiar to me, representing my childhood. They intrigued me in an inexplicable way, and I had to walk away entirely too soon, with a curious smile on my face.
And at the Persian Rug gallery, an artist displayed a haiku in one of his/her pieces that has been echoing in my mind ever since:
The scent of pollen
neither sweet nor unpleasant
nudges memories.
Wes and I ended the evening my climbing up Rata's web of fire escapes up to the roof of her building on 21st and Locust. We looked out over the city, the most prominent buildings of Philly's skyline just a short distance in front of us. I determined then that if I lived in a place like that, I would spend pretty much every spare moment hanging out on the roof. I would read, eat meals, play ukulele. The times when I would be feeling most expressive I would even break out the saxophone and let it pour over the city and echo through the buildings. Maybe I would even have a cage for my pet falcon. Fly, Mordecai, fly!
Yes, that would be nice.
Friday, June 01, 2007
No other moment is more bloggable than the final minutes of the last day of school.
Now, today wasn't exactly the last day of school, but with it being filled of only assemblies and parties, and with Monday being just a half day, it pretty much felt like it.
And with the excitement of summer in those last minutes, everything is right in the world. There's a smile on every face, the shaking of hands, pats on the back, hugs and farewells. And it's good. Even the most troublesome of students, the biggest headache of kids, become surprisingly loveable.
Like one student who ran into the room to grab his stuff. As he was running out, he stopped and turned, saying, "Oh yeah...and mister! Did I pass your class?" It's been close all year, but holding no grudges now I happily said, "Yes. You passed. Good job. You worked hard." He gave a sigh of relief and as he walked out said, "Thanks, mister" in a tone that seemed to hold a lot of weight.
Now, today wasn't exactly the last day of school, but with it being filled of only assemblies and parties, and with Monday being just a half day, it pretty much felt like it.
And with the excitement of summer in those last minutes, everything is right in the world. There's a smile on every face, the shaking of hands, pats on the back, hugs and farewells. And it's good. Even the most troublesome of students, the biggest headache of kids, become surprisingly loveable.
Like one student who ran into the room to grab his stuff. As he was running out, he stopped and turned, saying, "Oh yeah...and mister! Did I pass your class?" It's been close all year, but holding no grudges now I happily said, "Yes. You passed. Good job. You worked hard." He gave a sigh of relief and as he walked out said, "Thanks, mister" in a tone that seemed to hold a lot of weight.
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