Monday: Our apparently Protestant kids chose to protest at the Christmas Eve mass, we were forced to bail early.
Tuesday: Whole family stayed in our pajamas until 4:30.
Wednesday: While trying to trim a rose bush I snipped off the tip of my finger with pruning shears on what was supposed to be the last cut. Never saw my body bleed like that. Went to the emergency room for the fourth time in my 2 year existence on French soil, this time with a baggie of ice in hand containing the little sliver of my finger, just in case. The doctor said, "Nothing we can do. But that's not pretty."
Drove more than an hour back to the Ikea where the kid lost his precious stuffed animal more than a week earlier. They had, thankfully, found it. He's been a much happier kid since, sleeping much better.
Thursday: Took the kid to a pediatrician 45 minutes away because our region has a shortage of doctors. Was being seen for a wicked sort of diaper rash. She prescribed violet water. We don't really understand what it is, but instead of his buttocks being red, they are now stained bright purple. Our hands too.
Wanted to go ice skating while in that town, you know, do something Christmas-y. It started pouring. We had no umbrella. When we got home the sun came out.
Friday: I didn't mention that as of Tuesday, we were illegal immigrants, our resident cards expiring on Christmas of all days. The grumpy receptionist at the Prefecture told me the immigrant office no longer accepted phone calls. If I wanted any information I had to come in. We packed up the family and left the house by 8AM. They had our cards, surprised I didn't receive notice already, made sure I was aware how much of an exception they were making because card-pick-up only happens on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Told me grumpy lady was lying, they still accept phone calls. Scraped what felt like the last few pennies out of our bank accounts to pay for the cards. Got home and found in our mailbox the notification saying they were ready.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Monday, December 24, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
(advent: making sense of it all)
papa, reading psalm 98: "...he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness and the peoples with equity."
kid: "Papa...Jesus isn't going to judge outer space?"
kid: "Papa...Jesus isn't going to judge outer space?"
Advent 25: Then and Now
And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience...
The people who walked in darkness...
[waited]
...have seen a great light.
...But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ. It is the gift of God. We are created in Christ Jesus for good works, that we should walk in them.
The people who walked in darkness...
[waited]
...have seen a great light.
...But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ. It is the gift of God. We are created in Christ Jesus for good works, that we should walk in them.
Friday, December 21, 2012
New Music
It takes me a while to discover new music. Even if I hear rave reviews of the same band over and over, it's still rare for me to actually look them up and give a listen.
Alt-J caught my attention because I saw them in American reviews and French reviews. They played a club in my region in the fall and their name was seen on posters around town. I saw a clip of a video that intrigued me. And then this showed up in my RSS feed. And so I listened intently for the first time. They had me at hello.
I watched it with the boys. The little one danced and grooved. But the big one watched unimpressed, bored.
"Do you like these guys?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just don't."
"Well what kind of music do you like?"
"The man with the mustache going up and down."
He was, much to my dismay, not referring to an Icelandic mustachioed hipster band, but to this video. And I will now focus my music indoctrination efforts toward the little one.
Alt-J caught my attention because I saw them in American reviews and French reviews. They played a club in my region in the fall and their name was seen on posters around town. I saw a clip of a video that intrigued me. And then this showed up in my RSS feed. And so I listened intently for the first time. They had me at hello.
I watched it with the boys. The little one danced and grooved. But the big one watched unimpressed, bored.
"Do you like these guys?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just don't."
"Well what kind of music do you like?"
"The man with the mustache going up and down."
He was, much to my dismay, not referring to an Icelandic mustachioed hipster band, but to this video. And I will now focus my music indoctrination efforts toward the little one.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Advent 24: Not Just Any Baby
"Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand
and marked off the heavens with a span,
enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure
and weighed the mountains in scales
and the hills in a balance?
Who has measured the Spirit of the Lord,
or what man shows him his counsel?
Whom did he consult, and who made him understand?
Who taught him the path of justice,
and taught him knowledge,
and showed him the way of understanding?"
Isaiah delivers some tough questions. Humbling questions. Questions that put us in our place, questions that silence. Like Moses being asked, "Who made your mouth?" and like Job being asked, "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?" and like so many other instances throughout scripture, they are questions that realign perspective.
The response is often: "Not me, but You." I am infinitely small in comparison to Your infinite grandeur. Sky, sea, earth, mountains: I've got nothing, I am nothing without you.
And indeed, in reading these questions asked by Isaiah, I've always seen that as the simple answer: "Not me."
But in reading with Advent in mind, I've seen another part of the answer, because we must read these grandiose questions in light of the clues that introduce them:
Comfort, comfort my people...
Speak tenderly and cry that her iniquity is pardoned...
The glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together...
He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom...
If the opening verses are pointing toward the good news of the saving work found in the person of Jesus Christ, then he continues as the focal point. All of sudden the response to these questions is not only "Not me" but also and more importantly "Jesus Christ."
It was Jesus who measured the oceans and the heavens.
Jesus was there for weighing of the mountains and hills.
It is Jesus and his light that gives understanding, knowledge, counsel, and justice.
Every parent thinks their kid is special and unique. But we can't even begin to comprehend just how different this baby in a manger is. He looks just like any other baby boy. But he is in fact the Creator of the World.
"For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together."
When we view Christmas with this in mind, the holiday becomes a lot less cute and quaint, a lot more reverent and awe-full. Shepherds and Kings did not come for a hot cup of nostalgia, but for worship.
and marked off the heavens with a span,
enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure
and weighed the mountains in scales
and the hills in a balance?
Who has measured the Spirit of the Lord,
or what man shows him his counsel?
Whom did he consult, and who made him understand?
Who taught him the path of justice,
and taught him knowledge,
and showed him the way of understanding?"
Isaiah delivers some tough questions. Humbling questions. Questions that put us in our place, questions that silence. Like Moses being asked, "Who made your mouth?" and like Job being asked, "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?" and like so many other instances throughout scripture, they are questions that realign perspective.
The response is often: "Not me, but You." I am infinitely small in comparison to Your infinite grandeur. Sky, sea, earth, mountains: I've got nothing, I am nothing without you.
And indeed, in reading these questions asked by Isaiah, I've always seen that as the simple answer: "Not me."
But in reading with Advent in mind, I've seen another part of the answer, because we must read these grandiose questions in light of the clues that introduce them:
Comfort, comfort my people...
Speak tenderly and cry that her iniquity is pardoned...
The glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together...
He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom...
If the opening verses are pointing toward the good news of the saving work found in the person of Jesus Christ, then he continues as the focal point. All of sudden the response to these questions is not only "Not me" but also and more importantly "Jesus Christ."
It was Jesus who measured the oceans and the heavens.
Jesus was there for weighing of the mountains and hills.
It is Jesus and his light that gives understanding, knowledge, counsel, and justice.
Every parent thinks their kid is special and unique. But we can't even begin to comprehend just how different this baby in a manger is. He looks just like any other baby boy. But he is in fact the Creator of the World.
"For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together."
When we view Christmas with this in mind, the holiday becomes a lot less cute and quaint, a lot more reverent and awe-full. Shepherds and Kings did not come for a hot cup of nostalgia, but for worship.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
francoamerican
As he ate his goûter, I asked the impossible question.
Me: If you had to choose between peanut butter and Nutella, which would it be?
Kid: Peanut butter and Nutella.
Me: OK, but if you had to choose, which one?
Kid: Both.
Me: Yeah, but I'm saying if you could only pick one. Just one.
Kid: Nutella and peanut butter.
Me: But if one ceased to exist, which would you choose to stay?
Kid: *groaning sigh* Peanut butter.
Me: And....?
Kid: Just peanut butter.
But he didn't look happy about it.
And he stayed at the table for another 20 minutes, alone, fixing himself peanut butter cracker sandwiches, one after another, fully content, as though if he had to choose, he would in fact be OK with just peanut butter.
Me: If you had to choose between peanut butter and Nutella, which would it be?
Kid: Peanut butter and Nutella.
Me: OK, but if you had to choose, which one?
Kid: Both.
Me: Yeah, but I'm saying if you could only pick one. Just one.
Kid: Nutella and peanut butter.
Me: But if one ceased to exist, which would you choose to stay?
Kid: *groaning sigh* Peanut butter.
Me: And....?
Kid: Just peanut butter.
But he didn't look happy about it.
And he stayed at the table for another 20 minutes, alone, fixing himself peanut butter cracker sandwiches, one after another, fully content, as though if he had to choose, he would in fact be OK with just peanut butter.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Advent 23: The Child with the Star on His Head
And the trust we put in things
In small ideas, in engineering
The world of sports and second best
In consequences we will not put to rest
And all the trust we put in things
In dictionaries, in engineering
In calendars, and television
And father’s friends, in consequences
Why crawl around in the snow
When you know I am right here
Waiting for you to expect something more?
For I am warm, I am calling you close to my table
Where I have made us a feast
For the year of troubles, they have gone
The winter brings a Christmas song
And the child with the star on his head
All of the world rests on his shoulders
And the mother with the child on her breast
Blessed is she among women
Does all the world know better than
When Christmas comes the troubles end
The troubles end, the troubles end
In small ideas, in engineering
The world of sports and second best
In consequences we will not put to rest
And all the trust we put in things
In dictionaries, in engineering
In calendars, and television
And father’s friends, in consequences
Why crawl around in the snow
When you know I am right here
Waiting for you to expect something more?
For I am warm, I am calling you close to my table
Where I have made us a feast
For the year of troubles, they have gone
The winter brings a Christmas song
And the child with the star on his head
All of the world rests on his shoulders
And the mother with the child on her breast
Blessed is she among women
Does all the world know better than
When Christmas comes the troubles end
The troubles end, the troubles end
Monday, December 10, 2012
Advent 22: Who will intercede?
Eli's sons were lousy priests. And being a lousy priest is different than being a lousy paperboy. You can be lousy in a lot of different jobs and it won't necessarily be the end of the world. But when you're the guy assigned with taking a person's once-a-year sacrifices and offering them to the Almighty Lord as a covering for sin, when you're the intercessor, the go-between, the mediator for God and Man, well, it just goes without saying that you best be taking your job seriously. But these guys were, for lack of a better term, deadbeats.
When dad shows up to give them a lecture, we can feel them rolling their eyes like a couple of rebellious teenagers. Still, he tries his best to communicate the gravity of the situation and the importance of their role:
"If someone sins against a man, God will mediate for him, but if someone sins against the Lord, who can intercede for him?"
The question hangs, looms, haunts as it goes seemingly unanswered and unresolved. But two details are immediately given, as though to give an indication of the response.
"But they would not listen to the voice of their father, for it was the will of the Lord to put them to death." In other words: not them.
"Now the boy Samuel continued to grow both in stature and in favor with the Lord and also with man." In other words: it's him. Samuel will be the one set apart to intercede for men when they sin against the Lord.
But Eli's question is much, much bigger than scolding riffraff. It's the cosmological question that rings through the ages for all humanity. After all, Samuel can only do so much for so long. Who can intercede for us, for the entire human race, the rebels who sin against the Lord and think they're better off without him? Who will make things right?
Another little boy is born, set apart, consecrated to the Lord's service. And when he is a young boy, nearly the same exact phrase is used to describe him. When the cosmos is asking "Who can intercede?" and the question has hung and loomed and haunted unresolved for centuries, a simple, familiar indication is given:
"And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man."
In other words: it's Him.
When dad shows up to give them a lecture, we can feel them rolling their eyes like a couple of rebellious teenagers. Still, he tries his best to communicate the gravity of the situation and the importance of their role:
"If someone sins against a man, God will mediate for him, but if someone sins against the Lord, who can intercede for him?"
The question hangs, looms, haunts as it goes seemingly unanswered and unresolved. But two details are immediately given, as though to give an indication of the response.
"But they would not listen to the voice of their father, for it was the will of the Lord to put them to death." In other words: not them.
"Now the boy Samuel continued to grow both in stature and in favor with the Lord and also with man." In other words: it's him. Samuel will be the one set apart to intercede for men when they sin against the Lord.
But Eli's question is much, much bigger than scolding riffraff. It's the cosmological question that rings through the ages for all humanity. After all, Samuel can only do so much for so long. Who can intercede for us, for the entire human race, the rebels who sin against the Lord and think they're better off without him? Who will make things right?
Another little boy is born, set apart, consecrated to the Lord's service. And when he is a young boy, nearly the same exact phrase is used to describe him. When the cosmos is asking "Who can intercede?" and the question has hung and loomed and haunted unresolved for centuries, a simple, familiar indication is given:
"And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man."
In other words: it's Him.
vito's ordination song
hearing this live would have been the only christmas present needed this year. reminds me of why i liked sufjan in the first place, because i feel few other songs as deeply as this one.
if ever i get ordained somewhere, wes, mark, someone, anyone, will you play this? and we can make it nathan's ordination song?
if ever i get ordained somewhere, wes, mark, someone, anyone, will you play this? and we can make it nathan's ordination song?
Thursday, December 06, 2012
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