Heavenward

The Year of Chief Garry

2011-12-21T10:43:00.001-08:00

This year, I have encouraged local efforts to remember Chief Garry, and have also been encouraged by several other people's efforts to honor the Spokane Tribe and its famous son. Or at least, Garry would be more famous, if his story were more palatable to the stereotypes or stories that many Americans prefer. Brave warriors, such as young Chief Joseph, or Geronimo, have captured people's imaginations. Meanwhile a few peacemakers like Chief Seattle gained some respect, often left behind in placenames. Yet Garry is a largely unsung hero, known by few outside of the Inland Northwest. Part of the reason must be due to the fact that Garry moved easily between white and native culture, and was misunderstood at times by both. Although imperfect, he was an advocate of his people's rights, a Christian, and a man of peace.

2011 is the Year of Chief Spokan Garry because he was born about that year along the Spokane River, near the present-day location of the city. The year of his birth is not entirely clear, since statements vary from 1811 to 1815.

Five Events in 2011 to Celebrate Garry's Birth

1. Garry's Bible Visited

I spent a day in March at the Joel E. Ferris Archives of the MAC. Seeing Garry's Bible is like visiting a person. No commemoration of Garry would be accurate without acknowledging the influence of this "friend" of Garry. This Bible is far older than Spokane, and was even printed before Lewis and Clark's arrival in this region. It was published by the Clarendon Press in Oxford, England in 1804 by the British & Foreign Bible Society. This Bible awes me for three reasons. First, it substantially claims to be God's Holy Word to all tribes and nations, an inspired, spiritually powerful document thousands of years old. Second, this copy of the Holy Bible lasted through a time of tremendous upheaval in North America, brought here as a fulfillment of tribal prophecy, saved by Garry's devotion and care, and frequently read by him for guidance as he fulfilled the words of Jesus, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God." (Matthew 5:9) This Bible both preserved people and was itself preserved by Garry even when his farm was stolen and he was evicted with only a wagonload to take away. Third, Garry's Bible remains as an eloquent witness against injustice and a continuing symbol of potential reconciliation between God and people, as well as natives and non-natives. My prayer is that this Bible will point us toward hope for the future, that the Scriptures will become "The Leaves of Life" for many.

2. United Tribes Make Mural

(photo credit: Barry Moses)

UCUT, the United Tribes of the Upper Columbia, painted a beautiful mural this year at the foot of Drumheller Springs along Ash Street going south. This mural depicts animal life and native culture at the springs and the nearby river. The longhouse in the mural is the one made of tule mats, built by Garry for the purpose of teaching the children of the tribe.

3. Fourth-Grade Class Remembers Historic Journey

As an educator, I tried to help my students understand the importance of learning more about the Indian tribal history in order to understand where we live. This picture was of our field trip in April to the old site of Hudson Bay Company's Spokane House Trading Post. It was on April 12th, 1825, that Garry left with the HBC brigade by canoe for Red River Mission, 1,800 miles away. He spent 4 years there, mastering knowledge of English, agriculture, and the Bible. His father's willingness to send Garry was courageous and risky. It would prove to be the first of many adventures for Garry.

4. Groundbreaking Book Published

This year, my friend Doug McMurry has written a historical narrative of Garry's life in the the 1820's and the way the Second Great Awakening spread west of the Rockies. I recommend this book highly. Doug has a love for native people and is a careful researcher, spending time even in the Library of Congress hunting up old documents relating to Pacific Northwest History.

5. Chief Garry Park Sculpture

The Spokane tribe raised money for a new sculpture in Chief Garry Park. They were so hospitable at the public opening of the sculpture. It was a great time shared by all. Garry's great-great-granddaughters spoke at the event and shared their thoughts. What a fitting way to honor Garry in the bicentennial of his birth.

Along with celebrating these public events, I also took part in a book study with some friends, reading the book by William Lewis, The Case of Spokane Garry.

December Musings

2011-12-20T18:39:00.000-08:00

Wow, I have not been blogging much on here. Something about raising a family, teaching, and serving my church. Yet I have always been a writer. So many things keep me from blogging in those spare minutes of life.

I have been on a hiatus from writing poetry, but recently a strong ache in me triggered a poem. This ache is the ache a follower of Christ feels when someone he or she deeply cares about is perishing; dying not through cancer or car accident but through unbelief. Our humanistic mindset wants to believe that it doesn't matter what we believe. So many people in my life want to take God on their own terms. Sometimes I even do that... but the tragedy the lack of repentance, not seeing how terrible it is to neglect the infinitely good Creator. God is full of mercy for those who crave it. Without mercy, all we can face is the pure justice of God. And that is not an enviable position.

In the world of human brokenness, God sent His own Son to heal the breach between God and man, each other, and in ourselves. This is Christmas.

What love is this?

Thanksgiving & the Pilgrims

2011-11-17T22:26:00.000-08:00

Next Thursday is Thanksgiving Day, celebrated by Americans to give thanks to God (originally) for His many blessings and to commemorate the arrival of the Pilgrim Fathers and their families in New England and their amazing survival as a colony.

So much of the story is familiar, but I offer a personal connection. I am both an amateur historian and a descendant of Pilgrims: about 11 of my ancestors lived in Plymouth Colony, Massachusetts. I hope to write some interesting things about their lives each year.

Stephen Hopkins (a 1620 passenger on the Mayflower and a "Stranger", not a Separatist)
Gyles Hopkins, his son (also a Mayflower passenger)
Edward Bangs, arrived 1623.
Gabriel Wheldon, arrived 1638.
Catherine Wheldon, his daughter and Gyles' wife.
Widow Mary Ring, arrived 1629 (former member of the Leiden church).
Elizabeth Ring, her daughter.
Josias Cooke, Elizabeth's husband, arrived about 1633.
John Doane arrived about 1630.
Augustine Bearse arrived in 1638.
James Hamblen arrived about 1639.

Henry Brinsmead's street address spotted in 1884 directory

2011-09-22T21:51:00.000-07:00

Henry Brinsmead's burial record, thanks to Andy Sims

2011-09-22T20:48:00.001-07:00

Latah Creek (Hangman) photos

2011-09-12T23:17:00.001-07:00

Killer Fog

2011-07-25T22:19:00.001-07:00

Finally, the old piano is home

2011-07-18T16:03:00.001-07:00

Well, this Brinsmead piano is back in the family, after 138 years. Welcome home.

More thoughts later...

The piano is here

2011-07-15T19:00:00.001-07:00

Hi... Dan the Piano Man of Spokane has the Brinsmead instrument at his workshop. It was delivered by the piano movers to him Tuesday. I went over to his place today, and got my first look at the old beauty. I will write my thoughts down for you later, but for now here's a few photos!

1864

2011-07-10T22:16:00.000-07:00

Henry Brinsmead was elected to the Society of the Arts in London. See at bottom left part of page.

2011-07-10T18:21:00.000-07:00

Here's a mention of Henry Brinsmead Pianoforte Company being involved in the discussion about what musical pitch should be adopted for piano recitals at the International Exhibition of 1872.

The Journey Has Begun!

2011-06-23T06:53:00.001-07:00

Dear friends and family,

This week Tuesday the Walter Piano Transport truck arrived in Bel Air, Maryland, to pick up my Henry Brinsmead piano, graciously donated by the Maryland Conservatory of Music.

What's really amazing and bittersweet is that the truck is scheduled to be in New York today. That is significant because my piano-making family in London was split up in 1880 by the tragic death of Mary Ann Brinsmead, my great-great-grandmother. By the spring of 1881 my great-great-grandfather William (who worked on this piano) left three children behind with his father Henry Brinsmead, and took two sons (William and Arthur) across the Atlantic to New York.

It was in New York that the father was not longer able or willing to provide for his sons, and by November surrendered them to an orphanage.

Later, little William returned to New York as an adult, a US Army band leader stationed at West Point Military Academy. While there, he composed the "Khaki and Blue March" for officers in training such as Douglas MacArthur (Class of 1903). He also met and married my great-grandmother there.

So New York is both the past setting of tragedy and success for my family. How appropriate that the Brinsmead piano is rolling through the state today, as other pianos are picked up.

Here is my Facebook page telling of my fundraising effort to help me raise the $1300 it is costing me to move it all the way back to Spokane, Washington. You don't have to join Facebook to give. All that's required is a Paypal account (which I have used safely for several years).

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Bring-Back-the-Brinsmead/119257641487887

But don't feel pressured to give... if nothing else, you can be excited with me for recovering a historical peek into my family's past. It's the musical equivalent of finding out that the uniform of your Civil War ancestor has been found in a museum that wants to donate it to you.

More details to come soon...

Better news

2011-05-05T21:00:00.000-07:00

I just got a price estimate from Pro Piano Movers to move the piano from Maryland to here... about $1300. That's significantly better than the scenarios where I could go out to get it.

So I'll be mulling that over this week...

Brian

Youtube of my project

2011-05-04T21:59:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxzZrfK7wyU

This features a Victorian soundtrack composed by my great-great-grandfather William in 1863. It gives you a taste of the family story. Particularly moving to me was the recent discovery that the reason my great-great-grandmother died of bronchitis was because of the killer fog of 1880... I'm not joking, read here:

http://www.neatorama.com/tag/london-fog/

Making Plans

2011-05-04T21:58:00.001-07:00

... and weighing options.

It looks like it will cost just over 2 grand to move the piano from Maryland back to Washington, either by hiring a piano company or flying out there and renting a Budget truck for the way back.

so as I consider my choices, I am still determined to do it this summer. I welcome any help, whether that be words of encouragement, prayer, food/gas cards, or money. My address is:

Brian Huseland
5625 N. Monroe
Spokane, WA 99205

In exchange, I will share my cross-country experience with you, bringing back with me a piece of history!

Brinsmead

2011-04-21T19:59:00.000-07:00

My great-grandfather William Brinsmead's life is an amazing story... born in a middle-class Victorian neighborhood on the north side of London, England. His father William's trade was "pianoforte maker". William's grandfather Henry had started his business back in 1835, manufacturing pianos with his famous younger brother John Brinsmead until they parted ways. Henry Brinsmead Pianos were made in London from 1835-1879, when Henry sold his business to John.

Henry's son William composed his own pieces, such as "Estelle Redowa" in 1861.

He then married William's mother, Mary Ann Williams, in 1866. At about this time Henry Brinsmead Pianofortes were constructed at 12 Rathbone Place, Oxford Street, London.

I have recently been offered a Henry Brinsmead piano, circa 1865, by a music school in Maryland which no longer has room for it. The piano is not in working condition yet, but as you can see in the pictures below, is in very good condition on the outside. What an amazing opportunity!!

The piano is mine if I can get to Maryland and bring it back. I am hoping to do this in June, once my school year is done. If anyone is interested in helping defray my costs, I would be very thankful for any help.

I will soon be posting a youtube video on my blog with more pictures of the Brinsmead family and my special goal. Also if you're on Facebook you can see my "Bring Back the Brinsmead" page: http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Bring-Back-the-Brinsmead/119257641487887

Till later,

Brian

Winter Solstice Eclipse

2010-12-22T10:41:00.000-08:00

According to astronomers, the eclipse of the moon this week on December 21 (the shortest day of the year) hasn't happened since December 21, 1638... 372 years ago.

Being an astronomy nut, I went out late Monday night and stayed up to see the cloud-veiled moon as it passed through Earth's shadow.

Being a history nut, I mused about the lunar eclipse of December 1638 and how an observer standing on the seashore in Boston or Plymouth at about 8 o'clock at night possibly saw that eclipse of the moon. My forefathers who lived there at the time may have seen it.

The Real Black Friday

2010-12-03T11:05:00.000-08:00

It's Report Card Time. (sound cue: electric organ plays dramatic music)

Ranks upon ranks of papers converge upon me, threatening me with choices--A or B? Take off half credit for an incomplete answer? Who didn't put their name on their paper? Where is the missing assignment? Did you really grade this fairly? Like a vast army they lay siege to my weekend... however, I just manage to push off the ladders of deadlines and destroy the catapults of teacher guilt with my secret weapon: repentance & finding my contentment in Christ--not my circumstances. The papers fall down, identified and sorted and sent home with the appropriate markings. The army has been defeated; although it will return twice more this year at the end of each trimester, I will be ready.

Being Hard Nosed

2010-10-05T20:49:00.000-07:00

As a teacher, the first couple months you have to be kind of hard nosed. It's not easy, especially when little girls forget their assignments and plead with you not to count it late. But life's lessons need to be learned young, especially while young.

I find that as a teacher I struggle with balancing my interest in children & desire to befriend them vs. my role as academic guide. My students seem to like me well enough. So I have to adjust the ratio and make sure I'm still consistent & can't be pushed over by kids' feelings.

Ultimately I have to tell these children that I am doing what is best for them, and leave it in the Lord's hands. I am thankful that I teach in a school where I can pray for my students.

Brian

The Secret Life of a Teacher, Part 1

2010-09-27T06:18:00.001-07:00

It might not be as exciting as, say, being a Navy Seal or a pop star, but the life of a teacher has many surprising facets you probably never imagined. Over the weeks to come I will reveal all. Classrooms take on a life of their own. Part of it is supplied by the teacher. The character and personality-mix of the children furnish both hilarious and tender moments. They live here for 7 hours a day--more time with me than with their own parents--yet our relationship is unique. I only have them for one year. They start as recent 3rd graders and end the year about to enter 5th grade. So it's a big jump from little kid to big kid. Responsibility, as you can imagine, is one of my mottoes. And then of course I leap back in the fall to little kids again. It's a great life, a life fraught with its own dangers and miracles. It's a secret life. Stay tuned.

Summer Vacation Blues Redeemed

2010-08-08T18:12:00.000-07:00

We left in mid-July for the Midwest. We had just bought a "new" Ford Taurus station wagon to replace our old one, and had named it Patience; as we had been praying that God would help us to learn patience with each other and life in general.

God was generously willing to grant us that request!

After setting out in our wagon, we drove a grueling 13 hour day (thanks to construction) from Spokane to the Yellowstone area of Wyoming where Jenno's sister & fam live. The next morning we were off again, going south into Colorado so we could take I-80 into Kansas for a family wedding. We got as far as Denver, when our car lost power & we took shelter under a highway overpass. Note the waifs & luggage.

However, God provided for us--one of Jenno's cousins lives in Denver & was able to come get us to stay the night with them. The car was towed to a local shop, where the next morning the mechanic pronounced it OK... test drove it & had no clue. So we stopped using the AC and drove into eastern Colorado... temps about 100 now. Oh yeah, and the dog was in the back too, on top of the sleeping bags in what we coined "her glovebox".

The wedding in Wichita was great, and we enjoyed the coolness of a hotel Sat night. The next AM we drove on to Kansas City, where we attended Providence Church (coincidence?), and then bombed on to Iowa just south of Des Moines. Walnut Woods State Park was wonderful...

until we went for a hike that ended up being a muddy trail with at least 4 downed trees. Only 15 hours before, a powerful wind storm had knocked down trees & limbs. Good thing we weren't camping here the night before! We washed off our muddy shoes & got into our humid tent. Mosquitoes were also happy to sneak in for a midnight feast. I woke up in the night to the noise of screech owls in the trees above. That was weird. I dozed off to sleep, until 5ish, when a thunderstorm moved in and rained on us. We broke camp, stashed the tent in the car, and got off to a nice early start.

We were starting to wonder if we had prayed for the right thing. But God knew best!

We arrived in eastern Wisconsin Monday afternoon and spent 2 weeks with relatives & friends. It was all worth it. And we were learning more patience there too.

Finally it was time to pack up again, and drive off to see Jenno's brother in Iowa & his family. Enjoyed the fireflies so much. Then last Tuesday we drove on to South Dakota. We arrived at our favorite camping spot, Cedar Shores. Except it was covered with mayflies. Apparently they had hatched out that morning. We got there the one day they were alive. The kids were bummed out, but we moved on to a nearby campsite with a pool that was mayfly-free. We heard on the radio that a big storm was heading south of us that evening. After a nice swim & supper, we relaxed. Then I walked up the hill with the girls before bed to check the sky. We noticed a rapidly moving bank of clouds heading for us. Hmm. After I shot this picture, the clouds passed overhead 2 minutes later, and the wind hit. Meanwhile Jenno heard on the radio that the storm had veered northeast, and 60 mph winds were expected.

We scrambled to pull up the tent again & stuff tent, tarp, and all into the car, as sheets of rain started falling on us. We sat in the car to wait out the storm. At this point I was in High Grumbling Mode and sad to say was not the most patient dad. All of which served to remind me that God was quite willing to send whatever he needed into my life to humble me, and remind me of how patient He has been with me and my shortcomings.

"The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance." 2 Peter 3:9

"Do you suppose, O man—you who judge those who practice such things and yet do them yourself—that you will escape the judgment of God? Or do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?" Romans 2:3-4

So the end of the story is that we decided to not stay the night but drive on. Jenno and I switched off until dawn, then took a quick snooze and drove the rest of the way back to Spokane at which time I promptly broke my little toe. At this point however, I got the point and decided to exercise a little patience....

The dog in the glovebox, posing with the troops

L'Abri Journal Entry

2010-04-30T17:26:00.000-07:00

Journal entry March 23, 2006... after arriving at English L'Abri in Greatham, Hampshire

Last Saturday was a providential preparation. I attended a talk on Francis Schaeffer at WYSOCS. I understand much better now his life and the special calling the Lord gave him and his wife Edith.

Not that some callings are special while others are ordinary. Every calling that is true is significant and equally worthwhile if it is from the Lord. In that sense every calling is ordinary and special... usually at some point the former appears as the latter when some insight is gained.

And this is really why I have come to L'Abri tonight. I know the general calling of God for Jenno and I. We specifically serve Him now as missionaries in England, and yet I am uncertain of the reality of that call continuing. Is God calling us as a family to a different work, a different ministry, or a deeper experience of the calling He's already given us these last 4 years?

It is my father's birthday today--he is 68 years old.

It occurred to me that my Abba, my Father in heaven, knows no such measurement of His existence. What is the use of counting infinity? He truly is the Ancient of Days. All has its birth from His creative acts.

I am waiting now at the Liss train station, waiting for my lift to L'Abri. It is a cool evening, but deliciously fragrant with the hint of spring and pungent earth.

Waiting. Waiting on God. Wings of eagles... resting in harbour? Or ready to embark? Retreat or onward? Hesitation, or purpose and a future...

Background information not mentioned in journal:

I waited for the L'Abri worker who was supposed to pick me up. After an hour, I realized she wasn't coming, so I set off in the direction of Greatham at twilight. I walked north on Station Road, passing the Spread Eagle pub. Now the lane was called Farnham Road, and it crossed over the busy A3 into the quiet, dark countryside. I was lost for a few minutes, with no light, but got myself turned back in the right direction. Finally I saw the turnoff for Greatham village, and I followed the brick wall on my right until I saw the little sign for the Manor House near the gate in the wall.

I finally arrived. I trudged up to the door at about 10 pm. The sign on it was good to see. I entered and wearily wondered what to do now...

A L'Abri helper named Paul saw me and arranged for the room where I would spend the night. I felt like no one was expecting me, but strangely I was not much bothered. I knew it would somehow work out. I had asked to stay for one week (all the time I could afford).

L'Abri Journal Entry

2010-04-11T08:05:00.001-07:00

The Fellows home at English L'Abri

March 23, 2006

With a reluctant anticipation I boarded the twilight train at Warrington Bank Quay, en route to London, on my way to English L'Abri in Greatham, Hampshire. I will spare the reader every detail of my journey...

Right now I have "survived" the crossing of London via the Tube, 9 months after the Tube bombing. Things are mostly back to normal; just more guards I think. I am uncomfortably ensconced in a doorway of a train bound for Liss.

I am looking forward to being at L'Abri for a week of learning about my calling and the exploration of how we would best serve God as a family in the future.

to be continued

2010-04-07T06:31:00.001-07:00

Hi,

I'm heading out to Louisville, Kentucky next week Monday night for a conference called "Together for the Gospel". It's a meeting of 7000 church pastors and other leaders who come from a diverse range of backgrounds (i.e. Baptist, charismatic, Presbyterian) but they all have one common passion: to see God and His gospel glorified. I am really excited about this. I am hoping and praying that God will use it to deepen my faith in Christ (which has been pathetic lately) and to give me direction for the future in ministry in some way.

Together for the Gospel: T4G 2010 Conference from Together for the Gospel (T4G) on Vimeo.

2010-03-21T16:29:00.000-07:00

In March of 2006 I took the train from Warrington, England, south to London, then changed trains to the little village of Liss in Hampshire. At the end of the day, I had arrived at English L'Abri (a network of study centers founded by the late Francis Schaeffer). I was there to explore truth, God, and my future. I will be writing posts about it in the next few days.

An Opportunity to Share with NASA

2010-02-05T21:49:00.000-08:00

See my recent cameo on NASA's website here:
http://www.nwcs.org/upload/File/News%20&%20Events%20Bulletins/Feb%202010%20News%20Release%20-NASA%20Website%20features%20NWC%20Teacher%20(2).pdf

US Figure Skating Championships

2010-01-23T21:07:00.000-08:00

It was fun to take J on a date this week to the US Figure Skating Championships here in Spokane. Sasha Cohen, Mirai Nagasu, and Rachael Flatt (above) all skated well at the Women's Short Program Thursday night. Did anyone else watch them on TV?

Denzel Washington: The Book of Eli

2010-01-17T06:36:00.000-08:00

"The Book of Eli is, perhaps, the most explicitly Christian film I've seen come out of the secular film industry since The Passion of the Christ... The Bible—what it is and what it says—lies at the heart of this cinematic Book." (from Plugged In)

This weekend I went to the cinema to see The Book of Eli (Directed by Albert & Allen Hughes, Warner Bros, 2010), a futuristic post-nuclear story starring Denzel Washington.

There are several fine online reviews of this film already, but I think that this film is significant for thoughtful Christians in three ways:

1. It underscores the value of the Bible to our world, by contrasting our present literacy (& abundance of Bibles in our language) vs. an impoverished future world in which only one copy of the Bible exists, and few know how to even read. This movie made me want to read my Bible more, and learn more of it by heart.

2. It critiques the materialism of our time, by contrasting our present wastefulness vs. future scarcity.

3. It shows the pervasive depravity of human beings, by contrasting the kind of brutal world that follows the breakdown of morality in the absence of law vs. the enduring morality that flows from a Biblical worldview.

Be warned that the violence and language are disturbing... but I am encouraged that a film like this suggests the significance of the Bible to a new generation. We may hope that God may use stories like The Book of Eli to make people curious about the Word of God, and read it themselves.

Finally, Denzel Washington's presence as an actor is masterful. As people this week consider black Americans, I suggest we take a renewed look at Washington for his talent, his moral integrity on screen and off screen, and his Christian faith. Christianity Today interviewed him last week about his faith and his acting here.

Brian Huseland

Happy New Year!

2010-01-02T11:50:00.000-08:00

I just read a great essay on New Year's Resolutions that I would recommend. Do you make too many resolutions? None at all? Or a careful few?

You can read the article on Justin Taylor's blog here. (which also mentions on December 30 several Bible reading plans ... my personal fave is the Bible Reading Plan for Shirkers and Slackers.)

Queen Elizabeth's Annual Christmas Message

2009-12-25T09:33:00.000-08:00

All I Want for Christmas is My 2 Front Teeth

2009-12-24T10:42:00.001-08:00

Merry Christmas from Spokane

2009-12-23T13:37:00.000-08:00

A Model for Christian Community

2009-12-12T19:27:00.000-08:00

Human communities vary throughout the earth, but what they all point to is the deep human need for a community in which each is accepted, plays a significant part, and learns from others. At its best, there is something deeply good about belonging to a family, to a neighbourhood, to a culture and nation.

Yet a cursory glance at any society shows that there are equally deep flaws in any human community... envy, theft, loneliness, divorce, abuse, dysfunction, or superiority.

This is why the new humanity created by the power of God (and spoken of in the Biblical book of Acts) is such good news: God redeems fallen folk who were enslaved to attitudes that, left unchecked, destroy relationships; and at best, leave us somehow unsatisfied. The Bible has convinced me that this mediocrity is not what we are meant for.

So the new humanity (also called the church or body of Jesus Christ) exists in freedom to explore relationships that are being repaired and restored to something joyful and authentic and deep. This process happens through the gospel. Not only do such real communities emerge, but they reproduce themselves.

One of the most compelling analogies in nature for this kind of phenomenon is the micro-organism called Volvox. This sphere is actually a colony of hundreds of individual algae who never live on their own... they are perpetually linked to the rest, and even give birth as a colony to daughter spheres. I liken this to a mother church planting a daughter community of Christians. How strange that something so small that it couldn't be seen until 1700 by Leeuwenhoek, all this time has existed as an eloquent symbol of community on a grander scale.

(photo courtesy of Wim Van Egmond)

The life cycle can be found at http://www.microscopy-uk.org.uk/mag/artdec03/volvox.html.

Post-Thanksgiving Post

2009-11-28T22:12:00.000-08:00

Hi,

The lethargic blogger strikes again! With the speed of a transatlantic sloth, my fingers hurtle across the keyboard one keystroke at a time.

For teachers like me, we love breaks because we get all the breaks the kids get; although we often spend part of our vacations catching up on our work. Yesterday I got a lot of work done planning the next few weeks of lessons till Christmas Break; but I have taken some time off. All work and no play makes Brian a dull boy.

My favorite book this month has been reading for myself the first time William Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation.

To my few readers out there, please leave a comment on your favorite book or Scripture you have enjoyed reading in November.

The Cold Splendor of Fall

2009-11-02T17:21:00.001-08:00

Today was the first day my walk home was in the dark. Cold, yet fresh like autumn; not like February. It feels good to walk up to my door, to our home and the warmth and the family and the love waiting for me. Isn't it strange how this simple pleasure is so easily missed by the common preoccupation with ourselves that prevents us from seeing what we truly have?

This November I am resolutely preparing for Thanksgiving all month.

Brian

Drumheller Springs Field Trip

2009-10-19T16:59:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago we took our 4th-graders to the edge of the North Hill of Spokane, to Drumheller Springs Park. This is a special place to me because this is where the first school in eastern Washington began. Chief Garry of the Middle Spokane Tribe was the teacher in about 1870. I am trying to raise awareness of his educational effort within the larger Christian school community, showing that his story is part of our story. Neither education nor settlement began with the whites. In order to include their achievements we must see that though cultures make us different we are all from the human race. As Garry once said in the 1855 treaty council with Isaac Stevens,

"I think that the difference between us and you Americans is the clothing; the blood and the body are the same."

My students are learning to respect this Native American peacemaker and Christian who tirelessly worked to prevent bloodshed, secure land for his people, and give children an elementary education.

Idaho Humor

2009-10-10T20:45:00.000-07:00

Great Lord of the Rings Quote

2009-10-10T20:39:00.000-07:00

"You have your own choice to make, Aragorn… to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness… with all that is left of your kin."

What a Dad!

2009-09-19T20:00:00.000-07:00

I had the video attached, but it has been pulled by the source... I unwittingly copied it without permission. Anyway, the dad caught a fly ball, gave it to his little girl, and she promptly threw it away. After his initial shock, he did an incredibly loving thing... he hugged her instead of scolding her.

Rainy Day School

2009-09-17T07:03:00.001-07:00

Ahh, the hot weather in the 90's this week is cooling down. I woke up this morning to rain. That means I can wear a long-sleeved shirt today without it being torture.

Of course, rain also means "indoor recess"... a phrase that can strike fear or at least mild anxiety into the heart of the most seasoned elementary teacher. However, I think I have a pretty mild-mannered class this year. More on that later.

Brian

School's Back: Apples, Recess, and a Hot Classroom

2009-09-13T14:50:00.000-07:00

Hi.

This school year I am going to try to blog a bit about my classroom. I teach 4th grade in a Christian school in Spokane. A teacher's life is full of amusing anecdotes, interesting events, and ordinary life.

Most people graduate from school and for them it is a memory, good or bad. An elementary teacher never escapes. But I think that's a good thing. Year after year, we never progress. We see a repeated snapshot of American culture at a certain age. I like being a teacher.

I just finished my second week of teaching. I really enjoy how my room is decorated this year... and with 16 students it's an ideal class size. Add stick insects & 2 gerbils to the mix, and we're ready for some serious fun learning.

Here's to the adventure!

Off to Wyoming

2009-08-04T14:00:00.000-07:00

... where the deer and the antelope play.

We'll be gone for about a week to visit Jenno's sister & her family in Pinedale, Wyoming. I'll try to post some more when I return.

Summertime

2009-07-18T11:14:00.000-07:00

I'm enjoying my summertime. Last week felt more normal for a teacher's life anyways. Last Saturday was my stepdad's memorial service... which brought closure in a lot of ways. I didn't feel right about taking some of his ashes, but I took soil from the gravesite and scattered it into the Spokane River as a symbolic act of forgiveness & grief. When I first watched the movie Smoke Signals in 2000, I never expected how deeply the story would resonate with me. In one scene, the Native American main character throws his father's ashes in the Spokane Falls while the poem "Forgiving Our Fathers" is read in the background:

How Do We Forgive Our Fathers?

by Dick Lourie

How do we forgive our Fathers?

Maybe in a dream

Do we forgive our Fathers for leaving us too often or forever

when we were little?

Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage

or making us nervous

because there never seemed to be any rage there at all.

Do we forgive our Fathers for marrying or not marrying our Mothers?

For Divorcing or not divorcing our Mothers?

And shall we forgive them for their excesses of warmth or coldness?

Shall we forgive them for pushing or leaning

for shutting doors

for speaking through walls

or never speaking

or never being silent?

Do we forgive our Fathers in our age or in theirs

or their deaths

saying it to them or not saying it?

If we forgive our Fathers what is left?

The Girls at Manitou Park

2009-07-14T13:08:00.000-07:00

Baton Petit

2009-07-03T18:57:00.000-07:00

My mom & stepdad's home near Sanders, Idaho

My Last Week

2009-06-29T16:16:00.000-07:00

Monday June 22:

Fred's daughters (my stepsisters) left his home near Sanders, Idaho in the early morning. He always called his property, "Baton Petit" ("Little Stick" in French).
I drove over to spend the day with my mom & stepdad. Dad was convalescing in his hospital bed. It was such a good weekend, with all his children & stepchildren visiting. But he was tired. He could barely get out of bed, and it took all my strength to help Mom stand him up so he could use the commode & sit at his chair to eat. He was thirsty. The hospice nurse drove up that morning and checked on him. The hospice workers have urged mom to take a 5-day respite care, sending Dad to a good nursing home in Moscow so she can rest. If she applied to Medicaid, then the stay could be extended. I think it's necessary. Dad needs more care than Mom can provide. I can't be here 24/7, and Mom can't lift his body on her own. Although I would like Dad to die in his own home, the way he wanted it, it's not possible. I hope hospice can arrange it soon.

Hospice has been so good. I didn't realize until lately how the hospice idea got started... a really cool story of how one person can make a difference. Dad slept almost all day. The brain cancer has made him bedridden these last two weeks.

Baton Petit,
Tuesday June 23:

Dad slept OK last night, Mom not as well. This morning he felt somewhat better. We knew it was only a matter of time until he passes away, but wanted to help him feel as well as possible. It's so hard to see him suffer. Hospice called and said that Thursday morning he can go to Aspen Care Center in Moscow.

Mom and I fed him--he ate some yogurt and Ensure. He slept most of the day. We talked a little... his mind is hard to reach now. Often he sees hallucinations of the harmless sort... thinking his cigarette is still in his hand, etc. And yet, there were times today when he responded clearly to us. I hugged him and told him I loved him. He hugged back and said "I love you too."

We briefly watched some fishing on TV. His eyes drooped shut after a few minutes. "Brian, we need to go fishing... we'll take your kids fishing."
"Yes, Dad. That's a good idea."
He dozed for a while.

That afternoon, when he was awake with his eyes closed, I asked him if it was OK for me to read the Bible to him, and he said yes.
I leafed through the precious pages, thinking carefully. I had read Psalm 23 to him last week. This time I would choose selections from the book of Romans.

Romans 1:1-7...
Romans 1:16-23...
Romans 1:28-2:5...
Romans 3:9-26...

for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation [wrath-absorber] by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins.

Romans 5:1-11...
Romans 8:18...

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Romans 8:28...

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

and Revelation 21:1-7.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away
every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."
And he who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." Also he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." And he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment. The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son."

I asked Dad if he wanted to be with God in Heaven forever. He was able to mumble yes. Never one to push my dad, but wanting to guide him toward peace with God, I told him one final time, "Dad, if you want that eternal life, just ask. Jesus, be my Savior."

Silence.

With his eyes still closed, Fred mumbled softly with all his heart:

"Je-sus... be... my... Savior."

I prayed with him and for him, especially that he would have comfort in the pain to come, knowing that he was in God's hands. I hugged him a long time.

It turned out to be my last conversation with him.

Baton Petit,
Wednesday June 24:

Dad slept off and on today, and ate very little. Several friends came by to see Fred one more time before he went to the nursing home in Moscow. He was sleepy but spoke a few words to them. I did some work outside.

I am torn between wanting to be here tomorrow to see Dad off, and being with my own family in Spokane. I feel like I've spent so little time with my wife & kids since school was out... but I know that's kind of selfish. I need to divide my time because my parents need me right now. So it's a balancing act. In the end, I decided to go home tonight instead of tomorrow because I could help Mom change him before I leave, and she would be OK until the ambulance arrived at 8 AM to transport him.

Spokane,
Thursday June 25

Jenno's brother Sam & family arrived last night to stay for a few days, so it was a good thing I came home. Today was spent trying to refocus my brain on home--things to do around the house (washing machine drain is on the blink) etc, etc. We went down to the Spokane Falls and took pictures with the kids on the giant wagon slide.

I talked to Mom today and she said that it went fine. On a sunny, beautiful morning, the volunteer ambulance crew took Dad out of the trailer and carefully loaded him. Mom went along, and saw him safely settled in Room 316 of the nursing home. She said he was comfortable and she was impressed by how nice the place was. After she came home it felt empty, though.

Baton Petit,
Friday June 26

My mom called me in Spokane this morning to say Dad's blood sugar was up to 500 last night, but the nurses were able to lower it later on.

I spent some time with my brother-in-law this morning, then we came back to the house for lunch. Soon afterwards, Mom called with a choked voice and said that the nursing home called and said Dad's lungs were filling up with liquid, and his time was probably near.

I jumped in the car and drove down to Moscow, my thoughts reeling. I had expected this to come, but I thought Dad had a week or two to live yet. I needed to stay calm for Mom. I texted his daughters and my brother. No doubt they were hit hard too.

I arrived at the nursing home where Dad was surrounded by Mom, her friend Maxine, and Fred's other stepson Eddie & his wife. The head of his bed was elevated, he was lying on his left side, and he was breathing through an oxygen mask. His bright blue eyes stared out the window, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. We sat around him, holding his hands, talking to him and each other. They drained his lungs a few times to help him.

Mom was a mix of loving support for Dad and restlessness. She had to go out a few times for a smoke break. I went with her once so I could see how she was doing. We talked for a few minutes on the soft green lawn outside, the sunlight falling on us like birdsong from a deep blue sky.

As we walked back toward the entrance, Eddie's wife ran out to us, saying, "Quick! He's going!"

We ran as slow as we could past wheelchairs & nursing home residents, rushing into his room. Dad was lying on his back, and a male and female nurse were trying to stabilize him. His lungs were failing, and his body couldn't keep going. Once they made a final attempt to clear his lungs, the nurses moved away and let the family come close to him. It was 6 o'clock.

His heart was still beating, though faintly. We touched his hands and feet with love, hoping he could still feel us. I put my hand on his head, and recited Psalm 23 as he grew still. I closed the eyes of my father, our loved one, knowing as I did so that he opened them in a better place.

As I drove Mom home to the trailer, there was a radiant red sun setting, filling all the hills with flame as we sped north along Highway 95. Our eyes filled with tears. Such beauty amidst such death. Kindness from God, that he sent a sign to mark the end of this man's life.

I stayed the night so mom would not be alone.

Spokane,
Saturday June 27

I stayed with Mom for the morning, leaving early afternoon when she no longer needed me there. I promised to call her daily, and come out again soon. The funeral home took Dad's remains last night to Lewiston. They were very caring and professional. We need to arrange the memorial service, and other things.

I arrived home, exhausted, numb to the grief. Glad to see my family.

Spokane,
Sunday June 28

I got up this morning like a deflated balloon. All the same, there was no time to mope because we were teaching Sunday School this morning. That went pretty well.

What really got through to me was the worship service. I didn't feel like praising God. Not because I was angry at him; all along I trusted God with my Dad's life & death. It was that numbness inside. That sick feeling.

Yet God in His tender mercy reached into me and His Spirit calmed my heart and revived my soul to commune with Him, my Joy and only hope. The songs' solid lyrics lifted me up so I could weep and smile and feel true peace at losing my stepdad. All these songs were singing not just about my salvation; they were singing about what Fred has too. In fact, I'm jealous that all these years I've been talking to him about the truth of the gospel, and in the nick of time he gets it, and arrives in the very presence of God and the angels before I do. How do you like that? :-)

I guess that's the way it's supposed to be... I'm so glad for him now. One day I will see him again.

Time Piece

2009-06-17T22:08:00.000-07:00

This is a meditative piece about my stepdad Fred Gindraux. I'm writing from his trailer in rural north Idaho. A thundershower just passed between the two hills in whose little valley we lay. Now the rain only falls from the edges of trees, grass, fences, mailboxes, a few scattered buildings. But mostly green things now made more green by the the rain.

I'm here because my stepdad is slowly dying from brain cancer, and Mom needs some help. It's a strange feeling to care for someone like this. Now I understand the goal of hospice, to help people die with dignity--not by suicide, but to face death with compassion, not embarrassment. So as I watch this man sleep, and talk, and lose human functions day by day, I see a beautiful man: people mourn the collapse of a museum more than they mourn an old shack falling down.

My stepdad is a museum of victories and failures. He is a living soul who has spent 69 years toiling in this world (25,465 days since his birth). That should mean something. Yet redwood trees and Galapagos tortoises are far older before they die; but being human matters. We are made in God's image.

William Paley once compared God to a watchmaker as he saw evidence in human beings that our bodies are too complex and organized to be an accident; we were designed. The watch analogy eventually fails, but it is still a powerful metaphor for human life.

My dad is like a watch. Not a digital watch; an honest-to-goodness pocketwatch that if made transparent, would display many intricate parts all working in concert.

His great-grandfather was a watchmaker in Switzerland. My stepdad inherited a love for machines and a great skill for precision work. In a way, he truly is a time piece. To know him is to both experience sadness and admiration. His life, as for all of us, is running out of time. Clocks do not run in reverse. May we wisely use the time we have been given. Right now, one of my goals is to simply make those remaining days & weeks as comfortable as possible for him, and to support my mom... though I don't always know how.

What I've Been Inspired by Lately

2009-06-14T18:37:00.000-07:00

Although I write with a stuffy head cold, I know I need to keep posting.

I've been reading Psalm 103, for one... excellent. I am finally taking serious the idea of memorizing Scripture. I have rested too long on my knowledge of the Bible's content, where to find things, etc. and thought I was doing well enough. But committing things to memory takes faith in God to a deeper priority in my life.

Since I did not grow up in the Christian church, spiritual habits have come hard to me, such as consistent Christ-centered prayer and reading the Holy Bible. So it's easy for me to be lazy and drift. What has changed for me is that I realize that all this stuff is not about what I do (i.e. religious activity) but instead my devotional time is about being open to God's transforming touch on my character, making me into someone He wants me to be.

While I stayed home from church, I listened to a fantastic biography sermon by John Piper about Athanasius, a 4th century Christian leader.

This sparked my interest in the ancient desert father Antony, whose biography Athanasius wrote. I didn't really know much about Antony until now. I've always kind of looked down on the ascetics as too world-denying, not caring enough about the world but wanting to retreat from it. However I think I have been too hard on them, and there is much to be admired about Antony's rigorous pursuit of reality and a pure life.

The monastery of Apa Bane in Egypt (Looks like Tatooine, doesn't it?)

My Birthday Dance

2009-06-09T22:45:00.000-07:00

For my 36th birthday, I decided to "Space my Face"... see the results here.

Civil War Reinactment

2009-06-02T05:55:00.000-07:00

I took A. to the local Civil War battle staged near the Spokane River about 10 miles from my house. The Confederates won this time.

One More Thing

2009-05-24T18:49:00.001-07:00

I realized that in my last post I left it a little incomplete, since I never addressed why berating myself isn't worthwhile.

I think that any attempts to beat ourselves up for our real failures will never work. The problem is that no amount of anger at myself will change me or transform the way I live. If only it were so easy! Perhaps small habits can be changed, but major weaknesses require major solutions which berating is ineffective to produce.

One of my weaknesses is keeping track of time. When I was born, I didn't have an internal "body clock"; I think I got a sundial instead, with all the numbers worn off. This has caused me big problems in life, because I am always so optimistic about how long it will take me to do something, and I am either late or I have to postpone what I planned because I ran out of time. This can lead to being late to meetings, not being punctual for responsibilities (or planes/trains/buses), and also disappointing people I love.

Thankfully I am gaining ground: but it's not because I berated myself. I am changing because as I get older I am being shaped by the Spirit of God to be more thoughtful of others, and more aware of the passage of time.

So I think that self-hatred is ironically not tough enough to make me change. Only God's love can convince me that it is possible to become someone different, yet still be me.

That's a good place to be.

Berate

2009-05-19T20:26:00.000-07:00

"Iran Demands Respect As NGOs Berate U.N. Racism Conference"
--headline April 24, 2009 www.cnsnews.com

BERATE: to chide, scold, or criticize someone with intent to punish or humble them.

After a long break, I have returned to blogging about our good ol' English language.

Berate is not as ancient as some others on the "be-" list... it appears at the earliest by A.D. 1386, made of two words: be (about) and rate. The latter word has an older lineage, growing out of Old French "reter" (to impute blame) which in turn comes surprisingly from Latin "reputare", (to count over, reflect... as in reputation).

In the Middle Ages, you might rate someone (blame them) for doing a lousy job. We tend to still rate people on the basis of desirable skills. I googled this and was amused (sadly?) to find that Facebook has a widget called "People Rate People" where you can get your friends to vote for you. But in the old days "rate" had none of this popularity feel.

Berating seems in no danger of disappearing from the English language, as even some bloggers are enthusiastic to tongue-lash, lambast, accuse... you get the point. Of course, I don't even have to leave the walls of my house, as I hear my own voice berate my kids for spilling the milk, forgetting to flush the toilet, or dawdle when speed is needed.

I guess this illustrates the problem with berating; it's not wrong to justly correct another person (see this link for the lost art of rebuking) but it's easy to over-do it, to scold out of proportion to the transgression. Impatience, a temporary lack of love, and the desire for control all form a witch's brew of motives that vomit forth our accusations towards others... or ourselves.

Yes, I also belong to the Self-Berating Club. The irony is that our urge to verbally punish others or ourselves fall so short of the mark of our crying need for humility. Didn't Christ himself say,

"Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye." Matthew 7:3-5

Christ says to us to deal with our problems first, and then with an appropriate attitude we can help others see their flaws, when the time is right. Nowhere does this leave room for venting or ranting at people. "Getting it off my chest" may be therapy, but it smacks of pride and a love for pointing out people's errors.

Perhaps this is why the devil is named Satan in the Bible, literally "the Accuser", who desires to make us despair by showing us our failure to live by God's law. He accuses so he might paralyze his prey. He pretends to uphold the law of God because he is an ancient scavenger, and we know we actually are weak and morally crippled. Anyone who is honest with himself knows that he does not always live in sync with his own standards of behaviour.

But what this "Berater" doesn't realize is that what we are powerless to do, Someone else was perfect in my place.

"You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly." Romans 5:6

The real answer to all my (or your) moral failures is not accusing, but accepting. Just as berate comes from the Old French word meaning "to impute blame", we can accept the morally pure life of Christ as a gift to us, his perfect record reckoned to me by faith... to impute blessing, not blame. Here is the power for us to both humbly own up to our faults (no defensiveness!!!) and at the same time feel incredibly loved and significant, because this Son of God came not to accuse the world but to redeem it, one soul at a time.

The sweet irony here is that only God has the absolute right to accuse, condemn, and punish us. Yet He chooses to offer us mercy instead, and the grace of God to transform screwed-up people like me into heroes. And if we benefit from this kindness, will we also impute blessing to others instead of blame?

--An old blame-shifter who still has hope for himself

Banjoes in Africa?

2009-04-27T19:53:00.000-07:00

See this interesting article and slideshow here...

More Britain

2009-04-16T21:21:00.000-07:00

Narnia Club April 2006,
Culcheth, England

Some of my best time spent in England was in the afterschool club our church ran in the local public school. We were given permission to run the club on Thursdays after school for kids who were interested (age 9-11), all based on the C.S. Lewis books the Chronicles of Narnia.

He Meets Us in the Dark

2009-04-13T16:28:00.000-07:00

For our lost one, miscarried this Easter

Empty.
A new twig on the tree
But no leaves budding,
Unfurling miniature fingers.
Spring has come,
But brittle branches
Stretch with barren stiffness
Poised for nothing?
This little limb meant more.
The ache of sap rises in my bones,
Leaks into tears, small sighs
For small deaths;
Not for what is,
But for what could have been.

Roots are for these days.
My wife and I delve deeply down
Dark and blind paths
Under earth, soul-roots thirsting
Seeking, crying for comfort
In half-finished prayers;
And before we are done
He meets us in the dark,
Wet with His tears
Shed on another tree,
Yes. He loves.
We drink sovereign stillness
And let our questions go,
Satisfied.

"...that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God."
Ephesians 3:17-19

Cobblestones

2009-04-02T12:57:00.000-07:00

Main Lane, countryside near Kenyon, Cheshire, England. Taken June 2004.

Cobblestones are shaped kind of like teeth--they have long roots to them and are set into the ground 8 inches deep or so, fit together in a stone mosaic that makes for bumpy but nonetheless steady driving. These date from a century ago.

A New Twig on the Tree

2009-03-19T06:47:00.000-07:00

We have great news... we will be expecting a little one this fall, probably November.

Incredible

2009-03-09T15:30:00.000-07:00

This weekend our high school boys' basketball team won the state 2B tournament for the fourth consecutive time, finishing a season that is 28-0. The last game they lost was 58 games ago, I think. Great athletes, great coach... but the real strength of this team lies in the locker-room prayers to Christ, the integrity on the court to play fair, the humility to not brag about their successes--in short, their character. Faith begets virtue which impacts sports. Cool to see.

Dinas Bran, Wales

2009-03-01T22:43:00.000-08:00

A luminous day, shadows scattered by stones on an ancient hill... this is Dinas Bran. Originally an Iron Age hillfort with defensive ditches, this lofty hilltop was crowned later on by a castle that Welsh lords commanded to be built, overlooking the Dee River Valley which flowed east from Wales into England. Dinas Bran can be translated as "Crow Castle", but dinas is a very old word, and is more along the lines of stronghold or fortress. The crows still fly around its battered remains, of which Wordsworth once wrote,

"Relics of kings, wreck of forgotten wars, To the winds abandoned and the prying stars."

For me it represents the beauty of what once was, and could have been... if the English had not conquered Wales and destroyed Dinas Bran. Yet sheep still graze its slopes, and time has hurried on below at the bustling town of Llangollen, where the international Eisteddfoddau (music festival) is held annually... where Welsh people play host to cultural music from around the world. So in the end, in the very shadow of Dinas Bran, Welsh people have kept their distinct identity and language.

Wales is the most appealing part of Britain to me, a cultural "island" within the island of Britain. There's Celtic mystery, yet warm domestic life, less lonely feeling than Scotland, and above all, lots of singing. Really good poets are still called bards in Wales. So the poet in me loves this deserted hilltop.

More at

http://www.castlewales.com/dinas.html

http://www.eisteddfod-ryngwladol.co.uk/cy/

The Britain in My Soul

2009-02-23T22:42:00.001-08:00

I want to start featuring places in Britain that created a strong impression on me and have stayed with me.

This trail is all that is left of a medieval road between the villages of Hatton and Stockton Heath, in the shire county of Cheshire. You know it's very old because the sides rise much higher than the path. I walked the old sun-splotched lane in August 2005. Can you hear the bees humming in the warmth?

Mr. Half-Hearted

2009-02-18T22:57:00.000-08:00

Ah, the wonders of technology... one more thing to forget as time squeezes out the little stuff. I'm back on the blogwagon. See you soon.

Brian

Hoarfrost in Eastern Washington

2009-01-19T22:19:00.000-08:00

THE RIME – ICE CYCLE

1. Garland

Mist pours, sifts,

Drifts and lingers

On the streetlights,

On the hundred hands

Of leafless trees

Frozen in sleep,

And each small thing:

Twig and grass,

The bent grain,

The mute clothesline.

It calcifies

Into crumble-soft frost:

Winter’s garland and cat’s cradle

For the hands of the trees.

2. Hoarfrost

Next morning, fog is gone…

And black limbs gilded

With shimmering flakes,

Crowned with a crust of sun,

Sheathed in silver. They breathe

A white image in the air.

Last night they stood

Both naked and dark;

But in my sleep,

He highlighted them Himself,

Edged them with his glory,

And their rim wears a crystal skin,

A garment of light…

The clue of His passing, the remnant

Of His whispering robe.

3. Silverfall

As strong light waxes full,

The sun’s bright fingers flick off

The gathered shine, loosing the rime

Like soft stained–glass breaking.

They whirl somersaulting,

With glints and winks

Onto the snow underneath.

They lose themselves,

And in their anonymity

Whisper to their fellows

Of the glory of God on a tree.

2009: The Year of John Calvin

2009-01-07T08:43:00.000-08:00

This year I have resolved to read more primary sources, and let the dead folks talk for themselves. My first attempt will be reading John Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, his Biblical exposition of a consistent, transformed life of faith in the Son of God for the glory of God and the benefit of the world.

John Calvin, one of the most misunderstood and misquoted theologians in history, was born in 1509 in Noyon, France. His contributions to the Protestant Reformation at great cost to himself make him worthy to re-discover and peruse his intelligent writings. This year marks the 500th anniversary of his birth.

I'd like to know what you all are reading (I like to read widely, so feel free to recommend).

Spokane Snow makes National News

2009-01-07T08:37:00.000-08:00

Hi guys,

You may have heard, but if not take a look at the Associated Press story here. Don't worry about us though... we are not wailing and gnashing our teeth over it all. The snow has been both beautiful and inconvenient, like a lot of worthwhile things. It will definitely be a winter we will all remember.

The Gift of Joy

2008-12-26T08:13:00.000-08:00

If a foreigner with no knowledge of American customs asked, “What’s Christmas about?” how would we answer?

We might mention decorating the tree, wrapping presents to give to others, or getting a special gift ourselves. Maybe Christmas lights come to mind, or holiday songs playing in the stores. Maybe favourite movies like Miracle on 34th Street or It’s a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart.

Of course, we know that Christmas is really about the nativity, the birth 2000 years ago of Jesus Christ. Yet this fact alone does not amaze us until we consider what is special about that birth. The Old and New Testament tell us that the birth of Christ was to make people glad! Think about the Christmas message spoken by the holy angel to the shepherds… as recorded in the book of Luke: “Behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the town of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord.”

Why did the angel say, “I bring you good news of great joy?” He answers in the next sentence—“for unto you is born this day… a Saviour.” Does that message give us joy? If it doesn’t, then we have totally misunderstood what Christmas is about.

The Christmas message is that God so loved you and I that He gave us the gift that would give us the most joy. He gave us His only son, born to become the only Saviour, God’s bridge to us so we could know the beauty, the power, and the joy of having God’s Spirit live in our hearts and be free from the guilt and the penalty of our moral failures. God did not send us His Son to make us religious. He sent His Son to make us free from all the little gods we worship (like self-reliance and comfort) and replace them with what will really bring us lasting joy—Himself.

Knowing Our Place

2008-12-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

"God's voice thunders in marvelous ways;

he does great things beyond our understanding.

He says to the snow, 'Fall on the earth,'
and to the rain shower, 'Be a mighty downpour.'

So that all men he has made may know his work,

he stops every man from his labor."

Job 37:5-7

Cold Snap

2008-12-16T20:32:00.000-08:00

Hey there,

It's nothing like the Midwest but here in Eastern Washington we are getting some subzero temps and wind chills. Quite amazing really--the coldest weather for a while. There's scrape-your-car cold, and then there's it's-so-cold-there's-no-dew-to-freeze-to-your-windshield-cold. That's what we've had. I confess a deep dark secret: I like it. I like being bundled up and walking the 6 blocks to my school at 6:30 in the morning while it's still dark. I like breathing in and the cold air making the inside of my nose tingle. It's so bracing, I guess... got it from my years in the mid-west.

How's the winter so far by you all?

Brian

Before the Storm

2008-12-13T21:53:00.000-08:00

My stepdad has been battling brain cancer since spring this year, when the first tumors were discovered. After some initial success in radiosurgery treatment, his health has gone further downhill. Recent scans have shown not only more tumors growing but also bleeding in the brain. The doctors say that no further radiation is possible... and so they estimate that he has 6 months to live.

I have been in a slow cascade of shock since April when we first found out he had cancer. So slow I'm not sure you can call it shock. It's not surprise; more like the feeling when an elevator unexpectedly goes down instead of up. The coming year will be a rough one for everybody I think.

I am strongly comforted by the reality of God's love as described in the Bible. Only He can carry us through the fires and the floods and the dark unknown tomorrows.

I cannot rely on myself, frail and rickety raft that I am, to brave this tempest. I will sail on Christ, and lash myself to the main mast, that sturdy cross on which the God-man died, where he conquered sin and death for me. I trust that vessel to preserve my life.

But what of my loved ones, as the storm approaches?

Good News

2008-12-02T19:14:00.000-08:00

After a long labor of praying, my friend's marriage is recovering and showing signs of God's healing touch and the spouses starting to be reconciled to each other. What a fragile hope, and so beautiful. Miracles still happen...

I need to get back to blogging. Helps me think somehow.

A Moth Aflame

2008-11-23T15:19:00.000-08:00

To my friend who is struggling in a painful marriage

The sun sinks with a gasp, and as the light dies
The earth shuts her eyes
In disbelief. A silence spreads as dusk extends
To the edges and ends
Of houses. Gathered sticks are gently laid and lit
In a backyard pit
To consume and grow. A moth flirts in and out of sight,
A child of Night
Who comes alone to the holy summons of flickering fire
To dance with desire
By flames. So near, so near he draws with ragged wings
And wingéd eyes
Arrayed with scales. Addicted both to darkness and to light,
He flutters right
Close to blazing tongues, yet wanders away a while
Until the pile
Of wood crumbles and calls. He shivers in flight and returns.
The pyre burns
For him. The moth circles in and plunges deep
Into fire, weeps
For the pain, the cocoon of anguish and aching flame,
And finds his name:
Embersing. From under coals and charred limb
A scorched hymn
Emerges weak and faint; by death grows stronger
And death no longer
Has its grip on him. A new creature crawls out,
Shedding its doubt,
Sanctified by fire! Luminous wings unfold,
Now brilliant gold
And burnished brown, and lift him back to evening sky.
He journeys high
Among the trees to shed his light and share his name;
A moth aflame.

This is my first draft. I appreciate any comments, especially if I have allowed trite phrases or words too closely repeated (how many synonyms are there for flame???). Anyway, thanks for reading it.

Reformation Day at Home, Church, and School

2008-11-02T16:11:00.000-08:00

I love Reformation Day, because it's a holiday which takes spiritual elements of Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving and combines them with an appreciation for historical events in such a way that the whole family can enjoy it. I didn't grow up with this, so it is a tradition I have come to identify with as a follower of Christ and a lover of the Holy Bible. Plus it's fun.

At home, each day this week we highlighted the 5 solas (the mottoes of the Reformation--found here) by hanging ornaments on our "sola house", including appropriate Scripture and songs along with it.

We had a Reformation shindig for our church small group at one of the member's houses, complete with a smorgasbord of German food and a guessing game where everyone role played different 15th and 16th century Reformers from Europe.

Here I am in my Martin Luther get-up at school. I dressed up Thursday and Friday to pique students' curiosity in the Protestant Reformation and why we should be so thankful for it. Later this week I will post my "9.5 reasons why we should celebrate the Reformation".

Brian

Halloween

2008-11-01T11:14:00.000-07:00

I grew up celebrating Halloween in the 70's and 80's like most people in America my age, in a non-Christian family. As far I was concerned, it was about the candy. Dressing up was also fun, which most kids enjoy.

Now as a devoted follower of Christ and a dad in my mid-thirties, I am convinced that Halloween has no worth, and at the same time I am less judgmental than I used to be.

It is easy enough to do the research on Halloween and find its pagan and Catholic roots.
http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/festivals/october/halloween-samhain.html That should concern us; yet as believers I think we should not avoid cultural events in a knee-jerk reaction. So easily we slip into a Pharisaic self-righteousness, and do little better than the Jehovah's Witnesses, who do not celebrate birthdays as they think it is a pagan custom.

The answer probably lies in starting from what we believe, not from avoidance. My cultural customs ought to be examined in the light of who God is and who He calls us to be. As I shared with my 4th grade students last week, God is a God of hope and life and light, not fear and death and darkness. How then shall we live? 1) Do we approach everything in our American culture as something to be opposed? That sees grace as fundamentally against human nature. 2) Do we approach holidays, etc. as things to uncritically do, as if our faith only belongs to Sundays? That is nature over grace. 3) Do we take worldly ideas and Christianize them? That is grace superimposed over nature. My humble opinion is that, according to a Biblical vision, 4) God’s grace can transform nature.

Each view of culture would lead to different ideas about Halloween:
1) Avoid it like the plague, and fear being corrupted by the least hint of the holiday. This is a satanic day, turn off the lights and hide until it’s over.
2) Do the whole ball of wax. It doesn’t matter, because it’s all fun, and everyone else is doing it.
3) Put a Christian twist on Halloween by handing out tracts with treats or pumpkin-carving as an object lesson for the gospel.
4) Figure out what is good and true in life which led to this custom in the first place, and think, how does Christ fulfil this? The Celtic people made Samhain to mark the harvest, the coming of winter, and to remember the unseen world. These are part of God’s creation which we can respond to as God intends i.e. by celebrating His providence in the harvest, accepting change in life as God’s sovereign plan without grumbling about the winter, and remembering the unseen world that we are spirits as well as bodies, meant to live by faith not merely by sight. This means at least 2 things… it’s this faith in Christ alone which reassures us that even though the outdoors “dies” in wintertime, life will return in spring as God’s gracious unseen hand guides us faithfully to future resurrection. Even the seasons are signs of God’s redemptive plan for the world (which is no coincidence, see Gen. 8:21-22). Remembering the unseen also includes recognizing the past cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1) by celebrating the movement of God in history through Christian heroes of the past, like Martin Luther (also appropriate for October 31, see here).

If I can take part in festivities with a redemptive vision for them, then they will point somehow toward the God whom we serve. So because I follow Christ who is hope and life and light, I will want to enjoy every inch of life as a gift from Him, doing that which naturally flows from the truth. This is why instead of Halloween, we celebrate Reformation Day and Thanksgiving. The candy and dressing up can be sprinkled throughout the year, with some creative thinking.

However, to be honest, I see Halloween only increasing in its darkness and bloodiness and creepiness (just look at the decorations in a Michaels or Wal-Mart, or costumes at Spirit stores). I think to myself: good grief, it's even more pagan than it was when I was growing up (if that's possible). It is becoming more and more an adult holiday just as it was in ancient times, and its cuteness will be replaced with serious devotion.

This calls for discernment and freedom of conscience.

Belong

2008-10-12T22:04:00.000-07:00

“I would rather belong to a poor nation that was free than to a rich nation that had ceased to be in love with liberty.”
--Woodrow Wilson

BELONG: to be the appropriate accompaniment, to pertain or concern; to be the property or rightful possession of.

Belong descends from a long and noble lineage, one of the more ancient Old English words, made of BI (about) + LANG (shortened form of GELANG, as in a measure). "Bilang" had its original meaning in the idea that just as something was equally long, corresponding in length, belong gets at running alongside of, parallel to, going along with, accompanying as a property or attribute.

So it has always meant that something is appropriate because it matches, it fits; hence Joseph Addison's description in 1712: "Grief has a natural eloquence belonging to it, and breaks out in more moving sentiments than can be supplied by the finest imagination." Indeed.

Wilson's quote above is particularly meaningful given the financial troubles lately. To whom do we belong? And does that give you comfort?

As for me, my only comfort in life and in death
is that "I am not my own, but belong--
body and soul, in life and in death--
to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ.
He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.
He also watches over me in such a way
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my heavenly Father.
In fact, all things must work together for my salvation.
Because I belong to him,
Christ, by His Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for him."

The Heidelberg Catechism, written 1563

My Sunday Musing

2008-10-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

This weekend we drove out to my parents' home in North Idaho to help them winterize.

(yes, there is a road that goes past their place)

I was really struggling all last week to fight off a sore throat & cold, and felt shattered* by Friday after school. We really needed to get out to my mom and dad's, and this weekend had been planned way ahead. So we prayed for strength and Friday night our church home group prayed for our time out there. Saturday I got up and felt tired; but by the time we got to the turn off for Sanders, Idaho, I was feeling OK. By noon I felt great--my sinuses cleared and I was swinging a pickaxe to loosen gravel from a hillside and was building the railing on their porch stairs. Jenno helped inside as it rained off and on all day. What a gracious thing for God to do... he refreshed me enough to serve someone who needed it. Today I'm back to feeling stuffy and sore, but I thank God for that window of strength.

This morning it was not easy to get to church... felt groggy again. As we sang a very rousing worship song by Sovereign Grace, I joined in the clapping, then winced because I scraped my right palm on a rusty nail yesterday. I ran inside to clean it up (hoping no infection). This morning in the meeting I considered other nails...

Oh beautiful man whose outstretched hands

Were pierced by nails far worse;

The severing thrust of nails stained with rust

You allowed so to swallow the curse

Of punishment (mine) and atone for my crimes.

I love, for you loved me first.

Next week I will resume my "Be" word-journey, with "belong" and "berate" coming up next. Check back in a few days and join the ride through the countryside: the landscape of our language.

*shattered (British idiom meaning wiped out)

Killing (It) Softly

2008-10-01T19:37:00.000-07:00

This week for Science, my fourth-grade class is studying those fascinating creatures, crickets. Part of that study means to look at them under the microscopes... and so they have to be killed. I'm not against the idea, so long as it's quick and not cruel. It does help the kids to learn so much by looking at a real insect up close (that won't jump away). So I did what my colleague did last year; dropped the crickets in rubbing alcohol... supposedly kills them instantly.

I was morbidly curious to see how long it really did take after the crickets fell into the alcohol. I was surprised that it took up to 15 seconds for them to drown in the chemical. They scrambled around in the liquid, trying desperately to escape, then settled down into jerky movements as the alcohol poisoned them. By the fourth cricket I had stopped watching and was feeling queasy. Then today one of the "dead" crickets started twitching its antennae. Disturbing.

I replaced it with a different, smaller cricket so the students wouldn't be freaked out. I started wondering what the cricket was sensing: was it in the throes of dying? I don't think so; it seemed to be recovering somehow. Yet it didn't move its legs. So maybe it was in a vegetative state. Anyway, it took all the fun out of the experiment for me. Death (even of non-human creatures) is still disquieting. I think the Native Americans were right in being thankful for the life of the animal they killed; not that we should honour the creature, but instead be grateful to God that a life was given up for a real purpose. How much meat do we eat, without reflecting with gratitude? A farmer who has raised an animal, invested time and money and care into it, then butchers it, knows much better what has been sacrificed to put dinner on our tables.

So crickets must die. But maybe... maybe one day there won't be any more death. A good day to dream of.

Loving my Students

2008-09-24T23:15:00.000-07:00

Well, so far this week I have learned to love my students even though they talk out of turn and are impulsive and act immaturely.

Seeing how they are made in God's image, and keeping that separate from the misbehaviour, has helped me to enjoy them better. As I try to keep a firm hand on the class, individually I am finding out more and more about each child, and building a trusting relationship.

One thing I share with them is a sense of humour... they love to laugh.

More later.

Behoove

2008-09-21T16:09:00.000-07:00

"What books does it behoove me to know?"
--Lectures on English Literature by H. Reed, 1878

BEHOOVE: to be morally needful or requisite to; to be proper or due; useful.

Behoove originally came from the Old English bihof, utility... BI + hof/hoof (to heave, raise, as in taking up, receiving). The sense was that something was necessary to receive and make use of.

This Anglo-Saxon word is already seen in print in A.D. 890, when King Alfred translated Bede's History of the English People from Latin to Old English... occurring in a wonderful little phrase, "Mycel wund behófaþ mycles læcedómes" (A great wound needs a great remedy).

Which leads me back to my quote at the top of the post... what books does it behoove me to know? Indeed, what insights and experiences from other people ought I to take in, that would benefit me?

It behooves me this week to be a learner, not only a teacher, ready to learn from my students too. Even they stumble upon truth that has not occurred to us older, wiser folks. That is wonderfully humbling. If I choose to expect to receive good ideas from others, I will listen better to them (a skill I want to grow in). I'll be back to share what the kids come up with this week.

May you have a "behoovable" moment too.

Rebound

2008-09-18T19:52:00.000-07:00

...and I was doing so well at blogging. Sigh. I've been silent in the blogosphere (or is that "on" the blogosphere?) because I have been incredibly busy with teaching.

The year is going pretty well. This week started poorly--both in terms of student behaviour and also my being a little unorganized. Now I feel like I'm back on top of it again, more consistent with enforcing my classroom standards, and feeling more "with it" too.

I'll write more later. Just thought I should write something to keep blogging.

Drawing the Shoe

2008-09-05T23:54:00.000-07:00

Art was on Thursday, so I took my class dutifully down to Mr. R's room where the students were seated at drawing desks. Mr. R told the class they would start by looking at things carefully, to see them as they really are, so he had us all take off our right shoe and place it upon each one's desk. He taught the class to first draw the shoe by looking at it and moving your pen at the same time as your eye traces the shape. No one could look down at their paper.

He had us do this a few times; Wiggler was not doing so well. He was on the verge of tears because he could not draw the shoe. I walked him through it, and he eventually calmed down. Mr. R had us all move on to drawing our shoes, letting us look down after each stroke; then finally at the end drawing the shoe while freely looking back and forth from shoe to paper.

Wiggler did a fantastic job by the end, and was really getting into his drawing, adding all sorts of details. He seems to give up so easily, though. Sigh. At least one fourth-grade disaster averted. Now this weekend I can get prepared for the next few weeks. Science starts Monday. Hooray!

School Erupts (ahem, Commences)

2008-09-03T22:15:00.000-07:00

My first day went quite well. The new group of 4th graders are a small class (17) which is really great to work with, 9 girls and 8 boys. We did a variety of activities and times when I explained procedures & rules. I look forward to seeing how this class grows this year.

Assassin Bug

2008-08-31T13:59:00.000-07:00

My friend Melissa featured a photo of a bee captured by another insect on her blog www.thosenorthernskies.blogspot.com. I just happen to be planning natural science class for my 4th graders (school starts this Wednesday).

I think I've found the insect... probably a "bee assassin", a kind of true bug (Hemiptera group) which often jabs its straw-like beak into other insects for food. Photos of these colorful mini-beasts can be found here.

Other members of Hemiptera use their mouthparts to pierce fruit as their food source. I believe this is a residual habit from Eden, but which has nonetheless been warped in many insects so that now many are carnivorous, where originally their bodies were designed for eating plant matter.

Which always make me say to kids who hate bugs, "It's not their fault. Creation was messed up by Adam." We should be sad for little reminders of this legacy, and hope for a day when all shall be recreated (Romans 8).

"Stolen water tastes sweet"

2008-08-29T16:38:00.000-07:00

This morning I groggily clambered out of bed like so much slow lava, dressed and drove off to my early morning coffee shop time with friends on Friday. We're reading a provocative book on Reformed theology by Herman Bavinck. I affectionately call our group "the Bavincklings" after the Inklings of Oxford. So it's a coffee house, not a pub, but we chew the fat all the same.

Today, after our discussion group finished, some of us lingered afterwards to enjoy each other's company for a few more minutes. It was relaxing. My reverie was cut short by one of the employees asking who owned a blue station wagon (me). Apparently somebody had broken into the car between 6:30 and 8:30 AM by smashing the rear left window and stole my backpack.

Unfortunately for the thief, there was nothing valuable at all.

Unfortunately for me, it was full of papers and materials for my 4th grade Science class, which starts in about a week.

I have been "burgled" (to quote a hobbit) not very often; others I know have suffered more than I. So I know it's not the end of the world, especially since material things are not what bring me peace. My faith in Jesus Christ gives me peace.

At the same time, it leaves me shaking my head. The reality of theft in our world comes home when we are the victims. "Stolen water tastes sweet," says the seductress in the Bible (the book of Proverbs). The lure of theft must be powerful for some people... do they get a rush when they pull it off? Yet the act of robbing someone else often takes more effort than simply living content with what you have. Certainly more risk.

Some small-time thief is out there, disappointed by a bunch of lousy papers that aren't worth anything to him or her. As for me, I miss my papers, but I am more concerned for the soul of the thief.

For his soul has been stolen already, and how will he find it again?
(Mark 8:36-37, John 10:10)

Beyond

2008-08-27T18:20:00.000-07:00

"...through the deep chasms and hollow ravines, out of which rise the soft rounded slopes of mightier mountains, surge beyond surge, immense and numberless, of delicate and gradual curve, accumulating in the sky until their garment of forest is exchanged for the shadowy fold of slumbrous morning cloud, above which the utmost silver peak shines islanded and alone."

--Modern Painters, Part II sec. IV, by John Ruskin (1846), speaking of Turner's painting

BEYOND: on the farther side, farther away, at a greater distance.

Our word comes from "BE + geondan (Old English for "the farther side"), geond was descended from Old Teutonic jand. Geond came down in English as "yon" and "yonder".

Few words stir me to dream like this one. These two syllables draw my thoughts away, over known territory and borders, to distant lands and people. Years ago, I used to read the Arabian Nights under my blankets with a flashlight, pondering over exotic names like Baghdad and Scheherazade.

Beyond is significant because being human means being curious about our world. What exists beyond these borders? What lies beyond this decision?

There's something good about wanting to know. Exploring is a God-given trait, as people have learned to build and cultivate and invent and discover. Without it, we cannot take care of this world nor live full lives.

Yet mere curiosity can be a cold and perishable hunger; a burrowing worm in the mind, to know more than it should. As Eve doubtless thought, and Adam wondered: will this forbidden fruit take me beyond my limits and make me just like God? Will I know everything like God, so that nothing is beyond knowing, and I have no boundaries at all? The ultimate gratification, where nothing is beyond me, because I am the sum of all things. Able to swallow worlds in my hunger.

This is the perilous cliff which our ancestors stood upon, this precipice of pride and ego; and fell. Lest I seem too dramatic, I can sadly say that the same hunger lives in me, in one form or another. It lives in us all...

... and it makes us less human, not more. I am not supposed to desire knowledge beyond my life's calling, the tasks I am given. To want more makes the soul shrink into a spiritual raisin, shriveled by one's passion for preeminence.

I think, from a Biblical point of view, that God is so different from us, that we should take comfort that (while indeed, much is beyond us) nothing is beyond God. As it should be. What would render us a husk of our true selves actually magnifies God as the Lord of life, for He alone should know all things.

I will leave you with these lyrics from Rich Mullins' song, "Nothing is Beyond You."

Where could I go, where could I run

Even if I found the strength to fly

And if I rose on the wings of the dawn

And crashed through the corner of the sky

If I sailed past the edge of the sea

Even if I made my bed in Hell

Still there You would find me

'Cause nothing is beyond You

You stand beyond the reach

Of our vain imaginations

Our misguided piety

The heavens stretch to hold You

And deep cries out to deep

Singing that nothing is beyond You

Nothing is beyond You

Time cannot contain You

You fill eternity

Sin can never stain You

Death has lost its sting

And I cannot explain the way

You came to love me

Except to say that nothing is beyond You

Nothing is beyond You

If I should shrink back from the light

So I can sink into the dark

If I take cover and I close my eyes

Even then You would see my heart

And You'd cut through all my pain and rage

The darkness is not dark to You

And night's as bright as day

Nothing is beyond You

You stand beyond the reach

Of our vain imaginations

Our misguided piety

The heavens stretch to hold You

And deep cries out to deep

Singing that nothing is beyond You

Nothing is beyond You

Celtic Artwork

2008-08-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

Here's a great site to visit--it's called the Lindisfarne Scriptorium. It's based in the United Kingdom on a tidal island where there was an old monastery, where they carefully copied the Scriptures. Well worth the visit.

Some great Olympic stories

2008-08-24T16:40:00.000-07:00

Hi,

I found some great stories about the Olympics here (the athletes' blogs are esp. interesting) and here. I'm going to enjoy watching the closing ceremonies with J and the girls.

Belittle

2008-08-23T08:25:00.000-07:00

"Time... spent by each party in belittling and reviling the candidates of its opponents."
Words & Uses by Grant White, 1870.

BELITTLE: to diminish, or make something appear to be small or less significant.

This word, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, originated in the USA, not England. It was first recorded being used in the late 1700's.

The quote above amuses me because, 140 years later, the political scene has not changed... it has always been handy to talk trash about one's opponent if it will garner more votes. Many Americans, I think, would disapprove of such critical stategies (i.e. what kind of ads they run).

Is that just the politicians' problem? Belittling others seems a flaw easy to detect in others. Yet when I consider what belittling really means--making others small in my eyes--then I wonder.

How often do I not notice my wife's needs, my children's needs, my friends' needs, because I desire comfort and meeting my own needs first? It seems that I am belittling people myself. No, not in a cruel, nasty way, of course; but in my indifference to these other persons who are made in God's image, who bear the weight of glory, who will live forever. Isn't it a shame that I often lapse into a self-satisfied, self-oriented perspective which makes others small in my eyes.

I want--I need--to see others more significant than before. Think about them. Not see them as interesting moons who orbit the planet of my life, or distractions who inconveniently demand my energy and time.

"In humility consider others better than yourselves," says the Bible (Philippians 2:3). Great wisdom. Does embracing humility mean we need to belittle ourselves instead of our neighbor?

School's a-comin'

2008-08-22T14:38:00.000-07:00

I will post again soon for my next word-journey, but right now I'm working in my classroom and trying to get all ready for my 4th-graders who come in two weeks. Check back soon and I should have something.

Between

2008-08-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

"ac hie gesittað be sæm tweonum
oð Egipte incaðeode
land Cananea, leode þine,
freobearn fæder, folca selost."

from Exodus, an Anglo-Saxon poem, circa A.D. 800

[But they sit rooted between the two seas,
On account of Egypt, unbelieving-nation,
On the verge of the Land of Canaan, on account of your people,
Noble-born father, best of the nation.]

BETWEEN: in the space that separates two points or objects.

It comes down from the ancient Anglo-Saxon word betweonum, from BI (by) + tweonum (dative plural of *tweon "two each" [cf. Goth. tweih-nai "two each"]).

The old word "twain" also comes down from the same root. From this Mark Twain took his pen name, since it was the riverboat jargon for "Mark Two" on the depth rope lowered into the river. You may also remember twain used in Rudyard's Kipling's famous poem... "When the East meets the West":

"OH, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat"

Although between has survived from long ago, its synonym and cousin betwixt is dying a slow death. It comes from Old Teutonic, twiska (meaning two-fold).

We live our lives between many things, don't we?

Family and career, wartime and peacetime, floods and droughts, past and future, heaven and hell... and countless times we have been between our point of embarkation and our destination while we traveled.

I believe that living between is often a journey toward understanding life, through recognizing the contrast of what is on either side of me. It also frees us from trying to define our lives simply in terms of ourselves--a foolish thing--and instead we grow through our experiences of being between. A pregnant mother. A man hired for a job, the day before he starts it. The engagement of a couple. An elderly woman dying on a hospital bed. The moment between inhaling and exhaling.

Yet how silly it would be to want to stay there, like a fly caught in a web. Being between is not really a place (like the "Wood Between the Worlds" in The Magician's Nephew), it's a fleeting piece of time, given to us for a reason. A journey is not all about the experience; the destination matters.

This is how I think about hell and heaven. We are suspended in a dance now between paradise and the inferno; moths between the moon and the flame. What light attracts us? Which passions pull us more... a passion for self-fulfillment which will burn us, or a passion for the glory of God in the face of Christ which will transform us?

Our time spent between is measured in the wing-beats of the seraphim, who cry "holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts!" and who urge us to do the same with our own amazing & ordinary lives.

A fun site

2008-08-19T08:55:00.000-07:00

Hi,

For today's post I will recommend an interesting website for those of you who might like to see how our English language developed into its current form. Check it out here.

peace with God,
Brian

Below

2008-08-18T16:38:00.000-07:00

"O blessed breeding sun... below thy Sisters Orbe Infect the ayre."
Timon, Act IV (William Shakespeare, 1607)

BELOW: in or to a lower place, rank, or degree; farther down; often used as a nautical term.

The word comes down from Middle English bi + looghe (low), used first as an adverb telling where the action was done. Once more, the Old English prefix "be" makes itself useful. Wouldn't it sound strange to say, "It was ten degrees low last night"? We're so used to be + low that we use it without thinking.

I find it interesting that on maps we can use below to mean farther south, because maps are often hung on the wall (therefore making south "down" and north "up").

The little country of Georgia lies below Russia, and the international news has been full of this latest tale of nations in conflict over land, ethnic independence, and power.

Whatever our view of the row over the diminutive South Ossetia, it must be admitted that Georgia (population 4.4 million) is completely overshadowed by its Herculean neighbor to the north (142 million people).

I don't really think we understand what it must be like to be a small country dwarfed by such a giant next door. We're used to being physically/economically larger than Mexico and politically/militarily more powerful than Canada. No one's shadow ever looms over us quite like Georgia experiences.

I wonder... if we were below Russia, and were a modest enclave of 4.4 million Americans, how would that change our perspective on the world? Like our own language, we take for granted our superpower status. What if America was so little? Yikes... it beggars description (but let's try anyway).

Camping

2008-08-15T14:21:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a break from my wordplay, since I'm leaving for a camp this weekend with my church family. I will instead leave you with a few photos of our camping adventures earlier this summer. I'll be back on the blog Monday.

Behind (I am, actually)

2008-08-14T08:52:00.000-07:00

"ða Deniscan sæton þær be hindan forðæm hiora cyning wæs gewundod on ðæm gefeohte."
(The Danes stayed there behind, because their king was wounded in the battle.)
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, circa A.D. 900

Behind: The OED gives a few definitions...
1. In a place whence those to whom the reference is made have departed; remaining after the others have gone.
2. In a place left by (one who has gone on). Usually with leave, remain, stay.

BE + hindan (Old English for at the back, in the rear). No mystery here.

We see the common root of "hind" popping up in hinder, hindmost, and hinterland. BE simply gives it a sense of position in relation to the object or person.

There are many things that lie behind us, figuratively. We can use behind to describe the passage of time--we face forward toward the future, inescapably, and all that has transpired is behind the present hour.

What we leave behind us is significant.

One of the most interesting facets of my genealogy work (see sidebar) is that I invariably discover the legacy of ancestors, people like us from another time who have left behind names and deeds, children and wills and choices of where to live. All of us were born where we were because some of our ancestors moved there.

I was born in Seattle because my mother's family lived there, and she returned to them when her marriage was in shambles, to have me. Therefore I was born in Washington, not Idaho (where I was conceived). As I go back in my family tree, I see the westward creep of my forefathers across 19th century North America. They have left behind a trail: sometimes a trail of tears, most often a trail of sweat.

What have your ancestors left behind for you? Is your name original, or borrowed from a grandparent? Doubtless your last name tells a secret of your family tree, and what country they came from (perhaps even the village!). and then there's the rest of us called Smith. Even that however, is a word-time machine that tells us how important it was to have smiths to work metal in the Middle Ages.

Then of course, I wonder what I am leaving behind. Hopefully not broken hearts & crushed toes. Today is holy because it is a chance to leave behind something eternal, something of lasting value that reaches beyond us, laying treasure in heaven--and reaches backward, blessing those who follow us.

May you and I leave behind a good day when we lie down tonight. And if not, the grace of God redeems the wasted time and leaves us longing for a different day.

2008-08-12T08:12:00.000-07:00

Beneath

2008-08-11T22:02:00.000-07:00

"Shaggy eyebrows elevate/ With twinkling apprehension in each orb/Beneath"
Robert Browning, Red Cotton Night-Cap Country (1873)

Beneath: in a low position relative to some other place; downward.

The OED tells its origin is Be + nidan (Old English word for "down, below"). The words underneath and nether comes from this same root.

What a great word. Like before, it describes 2 things in relation to each other. In ancient times, when the Saxons, Jutes, and Angles invaded Britain (creating Angle-land, or England) they brought their words with them... basic words that told about the harsh world they lived in, giving us words like skull, sky, the, hound, kill, freeze, dark, night, and other lovely words. (to be fair, they also gave us the word laughter).

Anyway, they used words like behind and before and beneath to make word pictures that helped people imagine where things were. And that's still how we use them, even in our technologically advanced day.

Beneath means more, though. It asks you, what is beneath you? And what are you beneath? We live in a physical and spiritual universe, where we are neither gods nor dirt.

In the medieval mindset, everything existed in a tight ladder of hierarchy. However, I think existence is more like a rainbow; we, like angels and mushrooms, start together at the same place, as God's creatures... yet we stretch up in higher glory than animals and plants. They are beneath us, but not worthless. We are beneath God forever, because He is above all things. Yet He lends us some of his dignity, and offers us still more grace.

"What is man, that you are mindful of him?
You made him a little lower than the angels... "
Psalm 8

What thoughts does beneath conjure in your mind? How do you use it differently from underneath?

Learning to Love Words

2008-08-10T07:37:00.000-07:00

Today I will rest from my usual post (resuming tomorrow). Instead I want to recommend a great conference in Minneapolis this September called, "The Power of Words and the Wonder of God".

Take a glance at it here... it looks very worthwhile.

Before

2008-08-09T10:33:00.000-07:00

"He [Jesus] is the image of the invisible God,
the fistborn of all creation.
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."
Colossians 1:15-16

I feel a sermon coming. Just a little one. Don't worry, though (those of you out there who don't love a good sermon like I do). I'm not going to get on a soapbox. I've abandoned my soapbox and I am down in the dust as a likewise sinner with you. What I say, I do not say with arrogance. Please journey with my words.

When the Bible says, "He is before all things," please note the staggering significance. All things. Jesus is before them all. Smell deep from this trinitarian rose, which refuses to be fully analyzed. It is enough to know that Jesus is fully Other--fully Creator, and one substance with the Father and the Spirit--and fully one of us. Human in every way, but not besmirched by sin.

This mystery man also refuses to be mystified away in a "cloud of unknowing"; He wants to be understood by us, related to us by blood and faith.

Yet, lest we use even the Son of God to prop up a personal "universe" in which I am the center, the sovereign, the architect, the judge and jury, He tells us He is before. He comes first. And He daily desires us to know His glory, His power, His beauty, and delight in it more than all else. We were created not only by Him, but for Him.

How do I do this, when I often take this awesome Deity for granted, like keys in my pocket?

"And he said to all, 'If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." Luke 9:23

He is before; we are after Him, following hard. As we worship Him we shall see how worthy He is of such sacrifice on our part. God is glorious. The gospel is glorious. His love for you is glorious. At the start of each day, before all else, let Christ be before all things in your mind. As that gorgeous song goes,

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

Beside

2008-08-08T13:33:00.000-07:00

"To Britaigne tooke they the righte way Aurelius and this magician bisyde."
--Chaucer, The Franklin's Tale

BESIDE is, no surprise, defined mainly as "by the side of something." A related word is besides which has a slightly different meaning.

In Old English it was always 2 words separate: be (by, about) + sidan (side). No great mystery here. The word has kept the same meaning for over 1200 years, and looks to be useful for a few hundred more.

Beside is such a basic, functional word; not really pretty or picturesque. Yet it communicates awareness of our surroundings. The following words over the next few days all tell about the relationship between two things. It may seem elementary, my dear Watson, but it is not. There is once again reality and truth to discover as we spend some time enjoying our language.

Besmirch

2008-08-07T13:56:00.000-07:00

"You cannot permanently besmirch a work of art. Time is sure to rub off the stain."
--The Daily Telegraph, Nov. 14, 1881

BESMIRCH is defined by the OED... to soil, discolour, as with smoke, soot, or mud; also figuratively to sully, dim the lustre of.

BE (about, make) + smirch (a dirty mark or smear), possibly from Old French esmorcher, to torture with hot metal.

This word, unlike betray, is another quickly passing out of usage. It sounds even more anachronistic than beseech. It is probably too late to bring this one back, but before we bury the word perhaps it would be worth recognizing what part this word has played in our English language.

For, in a sense, no word ever came into being that did not have some necessary thought to incarnate. Every new word is coined to describe something and nail down its meaning, or provide a parallel description, like synonyms. Consider the word "blog"; It began a few years ago as "weblog" to describe an interactive website for posting information, similar to a ship's log. Weblog was abbreviated to 'blog, and for most people they are quite unaware of its source word.

So words are coined, like so much golden currency, passing through mouths not hands, down through decades and centuries until the words have been worn smooth and meaningless.

Such is the case with besmirch. Its unique offering of meaning, I think, is the idea of ruining something in a way that cannot be reversed, and provokes a sense of moral indignation. I find the possible connection with torture interesting. Something like what Sauron (in the Lord of the Rings) did to elves in ancient times to create orcs. Do you get a sense of what I mean? Something beautiful or noble, hopelessly ruined or perverted. By the 1800's I think the word referred mostly to a family's honor or reputation being soiled.

How else would be say this in a word, if not besmirch? have we replaced it with a more modern synonym?

Betray

2008-08-06T09:38:00.000-07:00

"Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men."
--Othello, Act V

From the OED...

Betray. BE + traien (from Latin tradere, to deliver or hand over).
1. To give up to, or place in the power of an enemy, by treachery or disloyalty.
2. To disclose, reveal, or show incidentally.

Few words pack power in them like this one. A friend can betray you like no other. Enemies do not betray enemies. A movie that illustrates this so well is the scene in Braveheart where William Wallace fights against a visored knight who, it turns out, is his ally Robert the Bruce. More tragic is the intimacy Jesus of Nazareth shared with twelve disciples for three years, only to be betrayed by Judas who had personally experienced Jesus' love, companionship, and teaching.

Then I'm thinking about how people in the West (N. America, Europe) feel betrayed in the age we live in. People sometimes feel betrayed by their government, their church, their society. Possibly even the technology we use. I wonder what is the common thread between all these... and I think it is expectation. When we expect a good thing from an institution or person, and are surprised by the opposite, we may feel abandoned and disillusioned by them.

On the other hand, why would we betray someone else? There must always be a betrayer. I think marriages are an easy example. A husband who has an affair and betrays his wife easily justifies his adultery on the grounds that his wife wasn't fulfilling him. She didn't meet his expectations. How easy betrayal becomes when we decorate it with reason.

An interesting thought that I'm considering... is that Jesus knew Judas would betray him, and hand him over to be arrested & crucified. Mark 14:18 clearly records that Jesus had foreknowledge this would happen.

Is the betrayal any less painful if you know it will happen? Is Jesus unique in his attitude?

Beseech

2008-08-05T08:41:00.000-07:00

"I said, 'I beseech You, O LORD God of heaven, the great and awesome God, who preserves the covenant and lovingkindness for those who love Him and keep His commandments...'" (from Nehemiah 1:5, the Bible--NAS version)

Beseech. What comes to your mind? It sounds old-fashioned now. We would probably replace it with the word "beg".

The OED gives us an interesting glimpse into the source of this old and hallowed English word:

Beseech. BE + Middle English sechen/seken (to seek).
It would have been pronounced "be-seek" in medieval times. Over time, the "ch" changed from a hard /k/ sound to the soft /ch/ sound.

This is similar to the word church, which was originally pronounced /kirk/, but the hard /k/ gave way to a soft /ch/ sound in England. Incidentally, in Scotland, Germany, and Scandinavia it is pronounced and spelled /kirk/.

Beseech usually means to supplicate, entreat, implore, beg. The old sense of the word was to seek out, or seek about, a change in difficult times by appealing to (or be-seeking) the lord or monarch to have mercy on me.

My theory is that the word "beseech" is phasing out of use because modern or post-modern people do not like to beg for mercy. We are too independent, too proud, too enlightened to beseech anybody.

Or maybe it's because we think that nobody's worth trusting with my life, that I might appear so weak in front of them.

I personally think "beseech" should be brought back into usage. It would be a useful word to humble ourselves a little more.

What do you think? Has a word like this passed its sell-by date? Would you use it in writing or conversation? I beseech you, think about it...