Shorb on Nouwen on Ministry

A few weeks back, I told you about reading In the Name of Jesus by Henri Nouwen in one sitting at Panera on a Friday night. I also said I was planning to share more about it. This, then, is to let you know I'm sharing over here.

Shoulda Thought Twice

Our fifth graders have been doing a lengthy project on the problem of dirty water around the world. I don't know if you've heard, but it's a pretty huge problem. In fact, it affects around 1 billion people, and diseases from dirty water kill more kids around the world than HIV and Malaria combined.

Anyway, we got sample water filtration packets from PUR, and today I finally decided it was time for the demonstration. I mixed up some water and potting soil to make our dirty water.

(This is the second time we've had to make our own dirty water for an experiment, and today it finally hit me. We are fortunate enough to be forced to make our dirty water. What a blessed inconvenience, as a billion other people in our world are forced to make clean water.)

Once the dirty water was made, we sprinkled in the powder, gave it a good stir, and let it sit for several minutes. Besides the usual sediment that constitutes potting soil, the water itself cleared right up. After filtering said sediment, I had a cup of (almost) crystal clear water, and in what almost seemed like a dare from a room full of 50 fifth graders, I took several giant swigs. To their amazement, I even convinced one of my coteachers to drink some, too. The class went nuts. I felt a little bit like Johnny Knoxville or something.

And it didn't taste half bad. Pretty good actually. Sure, it still had quite a taste similar to the whiff of chalkiness you get when you open a bag of potting soil, but I can live with that.

But now that I'm home, my eyes kinda burn a little bit, they're oozing a little, and my throat is feeling a little raspy or something. I'm forgetting what exactly that powerful little powder is made of, but I can remember seeing a cloud of yellow dust poofing into the air when I first opened it. I'm wondering if it got the best of me. There's also the little detail that one packet is supposed to be used on 3 gallons of water, and I decided it wouldn't hurt to use a whole packet on only 1 and a half gallons of water, thinking it would only make it more pure, right? Either that, or it'd kill me. Now I'm thinking I should have been a little bit more careful with this experiment.

Regardless, it seems like PUR is doing some pretty good humanitarian work, at least in providing a short-term solution. If you ever have the opportunity (or heck, make an opportunity!) to support them or similar projects, I say go for it!

Testing 1 2 3

What better way to spend the morning of a snow day (yes!) than to figure out how to post music on my blog? Woo!

I finished this recording of 'O Breath of Life' back in August. After poking around in my email last night, I was horrified to find that when I sent it to a whole bunch of friends after excitedly wrapping it up, I actually sent an unfinished version, without bass, accordion, or drums. How embaaarrassing! So if you were one of the people that got that email in August, for my peace of mind, listen to this version instead.

If you decide you like it so much you want to keep it, you can download it for yourself by clicking on the little down arrow to the right.
O Breath of Life by nshorb

Searching for the Existence of God in the Fifth Grade, part 3 of 3

“Why are we praying about it?" Or really just, "Why do we pray?”

I pointed out that they are surrounded by prayer. In each chapel, we say or hear at least three prayers. Every day at lunch, we say a blessing, a type of prayer. Even at the inauguration, they heard two rather lengthy prayers. What’s this all about? Why do we pray?

Several kids said we pray to remind ourselves. I like that, and there’s definitely some truth to it. But I’m not satisfied with stopping there, because that means we’re praying to ourselves. I’ve begun to realize that’s how most people look at prayer, but the dictionary I used—not a Christian dictionary, either—says prayers are addressed to deities.

The Hindu girl said when we pray, we are asking for forgiveness. I liked that, and pointed out that Rick Warren did this in his invocation, saying “Forgive us for only thinking of ourselves.” She said we’re also “giving thanks for what we do have.”

I appreciated those thoughts, but grew disheartened in realizing from all the thoughts that were shared so far that ‘God’ was not even in their vocabulary. Who is the one forgiving us? Who are we thanking?

So I asked them: “The prayer says, ‘Give us a true desire to serve one another.’ Who’s doing the giving? We’re asking someone to give this to us—who will give it?”

They didn’t understand the question. (Or maybe they did.) Several kids enthusiastically responded, “We are! We’re doing the giving!”

I asked more directly, “Who do we pray to? Who are we talking to when we pray?”

Finally, a student chimed in, “We’re asking God to help people who are less fortunate.”

Yes—we’re asking God. Progress. But this particular prayer isn’t asking God to help the poor. What is it asking? Why are we praying it?

I backed up again. Serving others is important: agreed. But what usually happens? As the one girl pointed out, people don’t do it. I asked if students naturally want to serve others, if it’s the first thing on their minds. They quickly agreed it wasn’t. Wow! “Who are we usually thinking of?” Again, several responded by saying, “Ourselves.” Again, I’m a bit surprised. How telling! What honesty! What insight!

Finally, the dots were being connected. Serving’s important, but we don’t do it, so why do pray? Because we need help. From who? God. For what?

The Jewish girl summed it up beautifully. “We’re not praying for God to help us serve. We’re asking God to give us the desire to serve.” I could tell she had caught on. She continued, “When we do a coat drive, some people might give coats just because they’re told to, or they might give coats just because they want to clean out their closet, and not really because they want to serve. But we should want to serve, really want to actually do it. That’s what we’re asking for.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. So I wrapped up our conversation by saying that the things they learn in chapel are the most important things they’ll learn at our school, so it concerns me when they complain or tune out. It will shape who they are, the type of people they’ll become, and that is infinitely more important than learning the three ways to write ratios or how to spell words like ostentatious.

The latest news.

Yesterday, Erica and I received the official invitation to join the France field of World Team. You can read more right here, and you might want to start checking in there more often as things begin heating up a bit.

One more reason to pick up the Welcome Wagon:

Back when I played some music with Kyle in May, he convinced me that the cowbell should not be constrained to the dark and cheezy corners of classic rock. ("MORE COWBELL!") It was a learning experience for me, a widening of horizons, but it turned out he was right. I even rocked that cowbell in all of its sensitive-indie-instrumentality on one song.

But For You Who Fear My Name (mp3 at bottom of this page) is my second favorite on the Welcome Wagon album, and while it might get a little repetitive with no chorus and the same melody line over and over, when it's turned up real loud it's just bursting full of so much exuberance and joy! How could you not jump up on the coffee table and dance like David all to the glory of God?

I mention the cowbell, because this goes down as the second best use of the comeback-cowbell in 2008. First place goes to LAKE, another band I've been wanting to tell you about, for their use of the instrument in the song, Blue Ocean Blue. Interestingly, like the Welcome clan, they use plenty of stomping and clapping in this song, too. (click the play button next to the top album for a listen.)

Searching for the Existence of God in the Fifth Grade, part 2 of 3

Several days later, we came back 15 minutes early from yet another chapel service that was focused on serving others. I decided to take advantage of it.

I pointed out that it has been the theme repeatedly at chapel, but the kids aren’t hearing it only there. Even their new president has been talking about it, with Martin Luther King, Jr. Day being declared as a day of service, and even a new website launched to facilitate opportunities all year round.

But why? I pressed them for an answer. Why is it important? What should we serve others?

Silence. The first few answers were stammers, digging, trying, and ending up with things like, “It just is. You just should.”

Finally a boy came out with an honest answer that many would accept, “It gives you a feeling of accomplishment!” He’s right on -- the classic motivation behind upper class philanthropy. We serve others for our own sake, to feel better about ourselves!

“Why else?”

Eventually, the closest we got was something along the lines of “People need help, so we should help them.”

I’m not even sure what sort of answer I was looking for, really. But as they stammered for answers, I couldn’t help but notice that these are completely unchurched kids. Some of them have gone to chapel once a week for five years straight, but they have no idea why. Lots of people in Christian circles have been talking about our country being in a “Post-Christian Era.” I’ve heard those conversations a lot, but what I’m experiencing this year is giving me some practical, concrete experience in the notion.

And so, without a God, why is serving others important?

People need help, so we should help them. OK, sure, but do we have to? Or is it just a suggestion?

I’m afraid that without a God, or at least without knowing about one, the best we can do is that it makes our world a more pleasant place for everyone to live in, or because we treat others how we’d like to be treated, and we wouldn’t mind be served every once in a while.

I just don’t feel like these are very compelling reasons. Let someone else do it, and take care of yourself. If I were even wealthier than I already am and didn’t know about the love God has lavished on us, I’m pretty sure I’d stay holed up in the comfort of my cul-de-sac, too.

But there was a deeper question I wanted to tackle with these kids. They agreed that serving others was important, even though there wasn’t much substance to that conclusion. But then one girl -- whose family regularly volunteers at soup kitchens, I’m told -- brought up the point that serving others is important, but “people don’t always do it.”

Yes! That leads to Mr. Shorb’s next question: “Why are we praying about serving others?" Or really just, "Why do we pray?”

Searching for the Existence of God in the Fifth Grade, part 1 of 3

As I reflected on this discussion, I began to realize just how much sway and influence I have over this group of 10 and 11 year olds. Depending who you'd ask, that could be good or bad. I guess my hope is that any discussion I have is one of respecting 10 and 11 year olds enough to let them think for themselves and make their own decisions, rather than intimidating or indoctrinating.

It started with grumbles. There's been a lot of that this year. Mostly grumbles about our weekly chapel service, the boring speakers, the boring readings, the boring prayers, the boring hymns. That was the first red flag that concerned me. When at one point I threw out a suggestion of journaling about a chapel message, I came against some strong opposition, partly because of the journaling, and partly because of the chapel message.

The kids have been hearing a lot about serving other people this year, and when the principal started 2009 by reminding us to think of others, I decided to make the next quote in the Mr. Shorb's Quotes series a piece of our school prayer that is prayed every week in chapel.

"...Help us to cast out all that is false or unclean. Give us a true desire to serve one another..."

When I pulled this one out, boy did I hear the groans. "We know this one! We say it every week!" They quickly acknowledged and admitted, though, that I was most likely calling their attention to it because they say it every week and don't actually think about it.

I asked what it was saying, and they explained that one pretty quickly. I asked why it was important, and I got snide remarks like, "Because you say it is." I asked why we say it and they said, "To fill time."

Yikes.

I pushed and asked some more and got nothing but blank stares or people avoiding eye contact and squirming in their seats. They were resisting so much that I ended up feeling half heart-broken and half fed-up, so I tabled the conversation for another day, knowing I'd have to think it through and prepare a bit more for this one.

But really, how discouraging! Here is part of a class that collected over $2,000 for UNICEF and organized a coat drive that brought in over 200 coats, and when I asked them why it's important to serve one another, they have nothing to say.

What does that say about our service?!

Honeymoon's over, and it was short but sweet.

My browser pulled up BBC News as it usually does, and the headline mentioned Obama signing this and that and doing all sorts of presidential business.

It kind of took me by surprise.

You mean...he actually has to, like...do stuff?

And all of a sudden the excitement and hope of yesterday turned into a little bit of nervousness and anxiety.

DORK.

What a day.

Drawn piece-by-piece by my fifth graders:

I can't say I've ever cared about an inauguration. I've been through--what--six? in my lifetime, and most all of them happened while I sat in school or something, mostly unaware.

So why do I care about this one? This is the first one I've experienced being a teacher, and I think that plays a part. This only happens once every four years, and it would be a disservice not to expose the kids to this piece of history. So at our school today, we suspended all other activities and put the inauguration up on the screen with our computer projectors. Lunches were delivered to classrooms, students were allowed to sit on the floor, and we sat glued, watching history unfold. They gave mixed reviews of the inauguration as any fifth grader would do, but I promised them when they were older, they would understand and appreciate the importance of the day.

Part of it is exactly that, the history. There's no denying the electric excitement in the air. You can sense this is in an important day. I don't think "CHANGE" is just campaign rhetoric. Something is different here. One small part of this historic change is simply the color of Obama's skin. The first African American president, the glass ceiling finally busted through, Reverend King's dream coming true; this is no affirmative action or token patronization. This is progress.

"This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed -- why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred Oath."

Part of it is knowing that my generation was in severe danger of being lost. On my walk home today I realized I was never--not once--taught about the workings of three branches of government. Throw in the dishonesty and corruption and deceit and lip-service, and my peers and I want nothing to do with politics or patriotism. We can agree we live in a decent country all-in-all, but we'd rather sit around and complain about it. Who is going to engage us? It wasn't George W. Bush. Call Obama a celebrity if you must, but if my generation is forced to choose a celebrity to praise, he's at least worthy of it. I'd prefer to think he's just found a way to engage us, and that's exactly what we needed. Is it detracting from the job he'll do? I don't think so. It's only making it more effective. And the way he's challenging all of us to take responsibility and get involved? Also just what we needed. We've been disillusioned and unengaged. He's fixing that. Patriotism is cool again. (Sidenote: The church could take some hints.)

"For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. ... Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task. This is the price and the promise of citizenship."

But will Obama meet our expectations? The realist in me is always tempted to jump to this question, and a fair and valid question it is. Of course he won't. We'll be let down. What's the difference between him letting us down and Bush letting us down? I'm not sure, except that he has admitted from the very beginning that he'll let us down. Something about his personality--and maybe it's just his apparent humility--makes it more forgiveable.

Who knows what the next four years will bring. But for today, the part of me that appreciates beauty and hope is telling the realist in me to stay quiet. It's an important and exciting day, and I'm enjoying it. Am I just another 20-something being sucked in by Obama's charisma? Maybe. But there's gotta be some substance to it, because it's more than just 20-somethings who are celebrating today.

Along with all this, I think it's the first time I'm interested enough to pray for our president. Like one of my cute blond girls who sat on the floor in the front of the classroom and closed her eyes, bowed her head, and folded her hands when Rev. Warren gave the invocation, I'm praying.

Time will tell and God will work for his glory. For now, what a day. Can a guy like me really boil it all down to a feeble blog post?

And you? What did you think?

Man on Wire

I missed it in the theater, but once I got it in my hands on DVD, I watched it twice and loved every minute of it.

Man on Wire is a documentary telling the story of Frenchman Philippe Petit and his dream to walk a tight rope that is stretched across the World Trade Center. Using archival footage and storytelling by all those involved, the film becomes and engrossing heist movie that will keep a smile on your face for most of the 90 minutes. And while it never mentions September 11th, in showing the building of the towers and telling this story of how their grandeur inspired this man and the others who watched, the film becomes a perfect tribute without declaring itself so.

On one hand, it's an interesting character study. On the other hand, it's just an enjoyable wild ride. And on a third hand, it's simply an awe-inspiring act of beauty.

I could talk and talk about it, but it would probably just be best to wait until after you've seen it.

But as you watch Petit take those infamous steps out onto a tight rope a quarter mile up in the sky, your eyes are absolutely glued. From the street level, he's a mere speck in the sky. It's utterly breathtaking. Even if you can't understand it, it's hard to deny the beauty of the spectacle.

And perhaps my favorite part of the movie is the seemingly typical French response to those who didn't understand. Petit talks about the questions he receives after the act:

"'Why? Why?' And that was, in my way of seeing America, a very American finger-snapping question. I just did something magnificient and mysterious and I got a practical 'Why?' The beauty of it is that I didn’t have any why!"

I'm still trying to sort out the implications of that statement. But one thing's for sure: when it's coming from this vibrant and winsome personality, it's hard to disagree.

Welcome.

A few months back, I told you I was really excited for the debut CD by a little ensemble known as The Welcome Wagon.

A married couple, church planting pastor and wife, affiliated with Redeemer Pres, singing hymns, recorded in livingrooms, with Mr. Sufjan guiding the entire project. What more could a guy like me ask for?

I got the album for Christmas (Thank you, Andy and Jodi), which was really the only thing I wanted this year. While it wasn't exactly all that I hoped for (a recurring theme in music and movies after getting my hopes up so unrealistically high in anticipation), purchasing the CD is worth it for a) the artwork and packaging and b) this track. (Follow that link for a rambling essay, but more importantly, a streamable mp3.)

Up on a Mountain is the opener that simply melts my heart and makes my eyes get all watery. Something about her voice that's so simple, innocent, honest, and humble, similar to--as Sufjan alludes to in the linked essay--a sincere Sunday school teacher urging her students to appreciate the glorious truths under the surface of the morning's flannelgraphs. The traditional 3/4 time sets things in the motion of a heavenly waltz: father,son,spirit,father,son,spirit. The smooth trombone bears witness to the truth like the wise-from-age patriarchs sitting in the Amen Corner. The high electric guitar noodlings sound like the lips of children from which praise has been ordained.

(Yes!...the more I listen, the more I hear a whole congregation at work, young and old, united as one body, motivated by true belief in what's being preached. It takes some good Presbyterians to communicate that ecclesiology in music.)

And by the last verse, how could you resist? How could you resist The Welcome Wagon, sure, but really, how could you resist the truth?

"Up in the heavens our Lord prays for you. He sent his Spirit to carry us through. So it's true, that you're not alone. Do you know? He came all the way down."

Yes.

i think i smell a RAT

I'm trying to keep this one as quiet as possible for all the squeamish ones involved, but a little post on the internet never hurts when keeping secrets, right?

So there are two boarders in my classroom: two albino lab rats, named Little Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks by the fourth graders, or Red and Goldi for short, which conveniently happen to be our school colors.

They live in a hand-me-down glass aquarium with a screen lid taped on top, and each night before leaving I cover that with an old beach blanket so they can rest in peace.

This morning, a boy who was putting away his backpack nearby made quite the discovery. (Thankfully, it was the boy who has pet rats at home.)

As the old, unsticky tape wasn't securely fastened, Red had apparently pushed up the screen and shimmied out, but somehow remained on top of the screen and under the blanket. Since they can't see, they usually aren't too quick to run off, so there she was, content to hang out under the blanket. And since she was now on top of the screen, Goldi couldn't push the screen up to join her.

So there you have it, the first escape of the year. I just have no idea how she managed to push the screen up and yet still crawl on top of it. But I'm glad she didn't get any further, as 55 science projects are currently laying on the counters where she lives, and it would have made for a playground and a half.

But please...shhhh...keep this one to yourself.

Could you translate, please?

Mr. Shorb was cranky yesterday and everyone knew it. I even made four boys stay in for recess after they ran out of the lunchroom like maniacs. They had it coming.

Today was much better though, and I felt like there were many moments beautiful, funny, disheartening, and thought-provoking.

During science, a boy kept asking when they were getting their project grades back. I kept telling him I'd get them out before the end of the day. He kept asking. Finally I said, "I'm sorry, am I not speaking clearly? Am I speaking English?" The kids surrounding the boy smiled, agreeing that I had already answered the question.

I said slowly (and I promise not all of this was as harshly sarcastic as it sounds here--it was all smiles and laughs), "You'll get them back before the end of the day."

I turned to the little French boy and said, "Can you translate in French for your friend? He's not understanding English."

He faithfully said something to the effect of, "Vous les récupérerez vers la fin du jour."

I turned to the little Taiwanese girl and said, "Can you translate in Chinese for your friend?"

She turned with a big grin and said something to the effect of, "您让他们回到到这天末。"

I turned to the little Indian boy and said, "Can you translate into Hindi for your friend?"

He turned and said, "आप दिन के अंत तक उन्हें वापस मिल जाएगा."

Finally, the boy said, "Oh! The end of the day? Got it, Mr. Shorb."

Hearing all those languages spoken with ease in my room? That was one of the beautiful moments.

Sick.

My last post was the start of what was probably the most boring and isolated weekend of my life. My fever was 102 shortly after writing, and remained high for the rest of the weekend, most of which was spent laying on the couch, napping with the cat, trying to make it through a few movies, and with periodic phone calls from Erica and my mother.

I thought I was feeling better Sunday morning until I tried shoveling snow. That put me out for a while again.

I'm feeling mostly better today, except for a major case of the queasies to put it politely.

The Eagles won, and while I don't know much about how their season went, I think I know enough to say it's kind of a big deal they've gotten this far.

The Golden Globes reminded me of what a dull year it's been for movies, although I didn't watch much of them because of a nearly 3 hour phone conversation with Neville, which I'm pretty sure might have been the longest phone call of my life, but it's kind of understandable given the negligible amount of human interaction I had in the 72 hours prior.

Bachelor Life

Erica's gone to California for 5 more days and I'm going it alone. Me and the cat (now named Banjo, instead of Big Tuna) are getting some quality time in. I even learned how to give him medicine by myself, which isn't easy and only possible because of the size of my hands. There's more I could say about him, but one of my brother's New Year's resolutions for me is to not mention the cat. Ever. (But he's so cute!)

I'm pretty sure I'm coming down with a fever, which was only a matter of time considering the sick cat, the sick coworker, and at least 4 kids who were in and out with the flu all week. I'm so freezing that my wedding ring has fallen right off my frigid and unswollen finger at least two times now. Might be time to take it off, but I promise it's not because Erica's away.

I move slower when I'm by myself. Like the 25 minutes in bed after the alarm first went off, the 30 minute shower, and the laid back prep time for work like I had no agenda for the day. Then came home and sat on the couch trying to get warm for at least an hour and a half.

Decided to go to Panera and use a gift card from a student, not because I can't cook for myself thank you very much, just because I didn't want to cook and needed to get out of the house anyway. While there I read an entire book in one sitting, which, considering the abysmal amount of reading I've done lately, was quite an accomplishment even though it was only 80 pages of rather large and short-winded print. It was a meaningful read and I'll hope to share about it soon. But really, can that go towards my 2008 resolution to read an unread book off my shelf? Please?

I watched Slumdog Millionaire last night and while it's a solid movie most people would enjoy, I wasn't as enthused as I expected.

Now I'm bracing myself for 6 to 10 inches of snow, even went out for groceries. You know you're getting old and pathetic when you stock up before a snowstorm, but really the trip was driven by the necessity for some more ibuprofen. Promise.

I've got quite a lineup of movies to watch once I am snowed in, including Man on Wire for the second go around. I'll also be getting some music ready for church on Sunday morning. I'm feeling strangely confident or comfortable about that despite my relative inexperience and the lack of my better-sounding half. It will help that numbers will be down due to treacherous road conditions.

Today my coworker offered to let me borrow her hammered dulcimer for an indefinite amount of time. I probably should have taken her up on that. Even without it, I'm hoping to record a little bit this weekend, but at the rate I'm moving...will it happen?

If I'm sounding incredibly depressed and pathetic, I promise I'm doing ok.

Just my luck

Well, it did end up precipitating last night, and some of it was of the dangerous variety. The mass hysteria of yesterday carried over to this morning giving us a two hour delay.

When the temperatures were up and things were looking fine--just soaking wet--Erica brought me into school and went on her way to work, giving herself an hour and a half delay.

Of course, because that rain is so awfully treacherous, Bethlehem schools decided to close two minutes after I arrived. Now I'm stranded. Perfect.

And it's all because of Baby on Board.

Why you can--and should--be excited about the inauguration of Barack Obama, regardless of your feelings about the man himself

Erica's 8 year-old first cousin once removed is considerably precocious, so much so that he campaigned in various ways for Barack Obama apart from his parents' encouragement to do so. The boy enjoys listening to NPR in his free time, and is often found giving his parents political updates. The Christmas card he gave to us read, "Hello aunt Arica and uncle Nate, Happy holidays! Obama's anuaguration is less than a month from today!!" We enjoyed this little salutation, but it made some of the more conservative family members a bit uncomfortable and concerned.

Today, I explained to my class that we would be celebrating Martin Luther King Day on Tuesday the 20th by watching the inauguration of Barack Obama. Certain students made the connection for me, that this was a significant event with appropriate timing because it will be our first African American president. I also informed students that we'll be doing a project similar to the one I did last year, and while the other classes will be drawing Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, our class will be the one to draw a portrait of Mr. Obama.

With this announcement came quite a few noticeable groans and rolling of the eyes from the young Republicans, and I knew immediately the lecture I had to give. I'm going to give it here, too, because I have a feeling there are plenty of people, especially in Christian circles, who aren't very enthusiastic about Mr. Obama's inauguration and probably despise any attention or praise that is given to it. It's my opinion that this is a shameful outlook.

Now, I'll be the first to acknowledge that this country--not to mention our world--will probably be sorely disappointed with Mr. Obama as a president, and that's mostly because we've gotten our hopes so high for all the positive changes he'll bring. We have unrealistic expectations for the man, and that's a different topic all together. I'll admit that we have no idea if he'll be a good president, the right man for the job. He might end up being downright lousy. Certain people in our Obama-crazed-world have a hard time agreeing with this, but even my 5th graders--the majority of whom voted for the guy--acknowledged we have no way of knowing. I think that's a healthy thing to acknowledge at this point in time.

So, my fifth graders will not be celebrating Barack Obama because he's a good president. I made that clear today and hopefully set the minds of the few little Republicans at ease. No, my fifth graders will be celebrating Barack Obama because this is an incredibly significant, meaningful and powerful milestone of progress in the life of our nation. Forty short years ago, a man like Obama couldn't drink from the same water fountain as a man like me. Today, he has the opportunity to lead our nation. In many ways, it is the culmination of the Civil Rights Movement.

Missing the magnitude of this milestone is absolutely tragic, especially if one feels he must protest because he is a Christian. No, celebrating this equality among all people made in God's image is completely Christian, and it should fill our hearts with joy and gratitude.

(This is not to mention that, after all, the man is our president now whether we choose to like it or not. If we're still bitter about our man losing, it's time to get over it. Remember, "The authorities that exist have been established by God." Believe it or not, that holds true for even for Democrats!)

I understand you may not like Barack Obama. You absolutely have that right, and it may turn out that you have a good reason for your skepticism. But on January 20th, regardless of your moral or political leanings, I hope that it's possible for you to rejoice, if only in the fact that our country has moved past its racism enough to make it possible for an African American to be inaugurated as president. That is huge.

(Disagreements and counterpoints are welcome.)

What have we done?

I'm home at 2:30 on a school day. The reason? There was a forecast for 1 inch of precipitation starting sometime in the afternoon. Not a flake or ice-ball in the sky, mind you, simply a mere prediction of some small amount of wintry mix starting "sometime" between the hours of 1 o'clock and 5 o'clock. Not much of a sure thing.

And early dismissals are not much of a celebrated event at my school. At most schools, you're dismissed at a certain time, and everyone leaves together, nice and easy, no big deal. At a private school where kids come from more than ten different area districts, kids must leave whenever their bus arrives. That means teachers have to try and hold things together as their students start sporadically dropping like flies and the day gets increasingly meaningless as time passes. This started at 10:45 AM.

Remember the days when early dismissals were saved for the instances when stuff was actually coming out of the sky? (And it's so much more fun that way! Running out of school into a blizzard and shivering with excitement as you get on the bus!) Is it just me, or are we growing wimpier and wimpier with each winter season? (Wimpier and wimpier, as the winters--at least in PA--seem to be getting milder and milder.)

In a recent conversation with a certain CEO of a certain crayon-making company, the topic turned toward self-centered kids and over-protective parents. When asked why this is the trend nowadays, he emphatically insisted it all started in the mid-80's, when a little yellow diamond started to be hung in car windows. Three words changed it all, he said. Baby on board.

That was the time, in his mind, when parents decided their children needed to be kept in a safe, protective bubble where nothing would hurt them. Drive however you want, but if my baby's in this car, please keep your distance. From then on out, kids weren't allowed to leave the house until they were 13, they couldn't explore, they couldn't play on their own, and everything was safely kid-proofed.

Now I'm thinking that mindset progressed further and further until today, when twenty years later, kids aren't allowed to ride the bus if the weatherman has some hunch that some amount of some form of some precipitation will fall out of the sky somewhere around the time of some of their trip home.

Just sayin.

I'll be a full-fledged jock before too long.

First the Phillies, now the Eagles?

Look out Giants...here we come!

A Curious Case, indeed

My five year old nephew watched Bridge to Terabithia recently. When it was ending, he said to his mom, "Mom, my eyes are watering and I don't know why." I said the same thing at the end of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Most critics are complaining that the movie holds you at an arm's length emotionally, refusing to let you close. I agree with what they're saying, and yet the movie somehow, for some reason, really affected me.

It's something about how we always remark of certain baby boys looking like old men, and certain old men functioning as baby boys as they go out. The beginning and the end were really no different for Benjamin Button, but the order in which things progressed was. And it's how when we're young, we wish to be old, and when we're old, we wish to be young.

It's something about the imagination of the tale and the beauty with which it's told. Such a unique anomaly, the story of a special man, you feel so fortunate for being let in on the secret.

It's something about the heartbreaking consequences of these circumstances, particularly in the relationship of Benjamin and Daisy, and the wisdom Benjamin seems to acquire from early on by listening to those around him, which he carries with him throughout his younger (or older?) years.

It's something about the short sequence on the chance of accidents, the intersection of lives, that captures a grand idea in two minutes so much better than many full-length movies that have attempted to do the same.

It's something about the progression of history between WWI and Hurricane Katrina and the crazy world we're living in, the change we've encountered, or simply just watching the entire life of a man rise and fall before your eyes. While some will complain of the film's length, I'm grateful that no part of his life felt rushed. Where some movies would find some special effect to show the passage 20 years of time in 10 seconds or less, we get to know Benjamin Button just enough at each stage. (Not to mention the filmmakers very carefully and no doubt painstakingly made Pitt look just the right age at each moment. I imagine it took great restraint to not rush the aging [or deaging] process.)

It's something about "God keeps remindin' me I'm lucky to be alive," and no matter what the circumstances, life here is precious, as are the people who come and go around us. The movie loved each and every one of its characters, no matter what their strengths or misgivings. I'm inspired to love each and every one of the characters in my own life.

Resolutions

I can't believe I've turned into someone who, at least to some degree, pursues some sort of New Year's Resolutions. But it seemed to be a decent exercise this past year, and hey, setting a few goals has never hurt anybody.

So here's a look at last year's, with a cumulative grade on my success. While I can't say they were on the forefront of my mind except for the first few months (weeks? days?) of the year, I managed to make a little bit of progress, mostly by coincidence, or perhaps just illustrating the necessity or urgency of each one. To be honest, I was quite surprised when I looked back at these the other day, finding I was somewhat successful.

-Grow in Biblical literacy.
Studied and taught Isaiah, Benefited greatly in studying and teaching Hebrews, started a Bible reading plan in October. B

-Read at least one of the books that has been sitting on my shelf unopened for far too long.
Hmm...I think I might have missed this one, at least from what I can remember. F

-Conquer social anxiety.
Let's just say we're gonna have to keep this one going in 2009. D-

-Be a tad more active.
Been biking and walking to work (more out of necessity than self-motivation), and did a little bit of exercising pretty consistently for four months out of the year or so. B

-Find some sort of consistent artistic and creative release.
Started UrbanCottageCoalition! A

-Pursue seminary and France.
Became appointees with World Team, which progressed with France plans and postponed seminary for the time being. A

-Explore the possibilities of becoming a published writer.
Not much, other than submitting anecdotes to Reader's Digest that never paid off. D

Average Grade: C+ ...I'll take it.

I'll spend the last few days of my break thinking about what needs to be done in 2009.