Two Questions

I had two questions for my Uncle Wayne that were birthed out of the Family History vacation in April. They came spilling out of odd mentions from Uncles John and Dave, and left me with furrowed brow. My intent was to ask Uncle Wayne.

First, there was mention of Bub being sickly as a child (Bub is Uncle Dave) and needing a blood transfusion. As Uncle John spoke of it, it became Bub’s safety net in many situations. Grandma always sort of protected him, told the older boys not to pick on Dave because he had almost died. Of course, it was so long ago, and they were all children, so Mom, Dave, and John don’t really seem to remember why Dave was sick or what sickness ailed him. This was my first question for Uncle Wayne. Being a few years older than the others, he may have recalled more details about Bub’s near-death experience as a child.

Second, there is a wild legend of Uncle Wayne in his high school football days. Nobody quite recalled those particulars, either, except that Grandpa was so proud of him and would always talk about Uncle Wayne’s infamous touchdown. To hear him tell it, I’ve heard, was a great experience.

These were my two questions for Uncle Wayne–what was David sick with, and what happened at that football game. The first question still has no answer. The second, however, sparked a memory with Uncle Wayne. I offer it here, transcribed from a letter dated August 6th of this year, in Wayne Schmitzer’s own words:

Now about my football career at Frankenmuth High. I started at Frankenmuth at the beginning of my Jr year. Frankenmuth went 4 years without a defeat. We were a class C school, but we played against class B. I would guess the reason we did so well was that we were a farming community. We didn’t have any real big players but they were strong from working on the farms. Now about the play I made. It was during Father’s Day at the game. Mom & Dad were there. Well coach I guess knew this. I normally played defense. But coach put me in the offense to run the ball. Well I made it into the end zone and did a front flip. Dad teased me about that for years. I could still do front flips till I was almost 50. I      have one record at Frankenmuth. Nobody ever scored against me while I was on defense. They may tie it, but never break it.

I can’t even imagine my Uncle Wayne doing a front flip. And believe me, I’ve tried very hard. Still, I imagine he is feeling young and wonderful now that he is home in Heaven. I imagine he’s already done a couple of flips.

Saying Goodbye

Goodbye is so difficult.

Even when we know that death is not final, when we know that Eternity will find us in joyous fellowship with loved ones, even when we know that life will somehow stumble upon us day after day until we have learned how to adjust to the loss…

Goodbye is so difficult.

My Uncle Wayne has gone home today to be with our Lord.

I have grown to love my uncles so fiercely. Without a strong relationship with my own father, their love and acceptance has become pivotal in my life, in shaping my identity (yes, even in my thirties). But Uncle Wayne has always been, to me, this image of a man I could never know. He was so far away (Florida). And I’ll tell you–as children, Florida may as well have been as far away as Pluto. I always wanted to know him. This last year, and especially since my Family History trip to Frankenmuth last April, I have written back and forth a few times with Uncle Wayne and his daughter, my beautiful cousin, Cindy.

I remember reading my first letter from Uncle Wayne. I thought–this man probably didn’t even know who I was. But oh, he did! And he did not withhold one ounce of affection. He wrote as if I’d been his favorite niece since that day I was born thirty-some years ago. He told stories of himself, his brothers, his children, even about his parents. And at the end, he wrote something remarkable: a blessing.

I am not too proud to tell you that it is I who owed him a letter, not the other way around. And I am not too proud to tell you that, although I don’t have enough postage for mail delivery in Heaven, I will probably still write to him. At least once more.

Pray for my family this week, friends. Pray for our peace in his absence. Goodbye is just so difficult.

Maybe I’ll say goodbye tomorrow. Tonight, I am heartsick.

What’s on my heart: September 4

What’s on my heart today? Let’s begin with the fact that sometime between my early lunch and my mid-afternoon break, my brain slipped into tomorrow. I’ve spent several hours of this day thinking that tomorrow is Thursday! No, it’s only Tuesday, folks. That should give you a decent idea of my frame of mind to begin with.

  • I have recently finished reading two phenomenal books: Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton (a favorite of mine; this was probably my sixth time reading it) and The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer. I’ve been chewing on ideas from each of these books, and it is my goal to do some free-blogging on them this weekend. Stay tuned!
  • This year of Sunday Memories has been a quiet one. I haven’t been posting my Sunday writings here on the blog, and I haven’t been mailing them to my kidlets. However, L.D. recently asked me to mail him all of the ones I’ve written so far, and to continue sending them now for the rest of the year. How can I refuse? I have my idea for 2013′s journals; my goal is to do my First Pancake this weekend so I can burn out any potential problems.
  • My brother was recently diagnosed with Celiac’s Disease. It has been an enormous adjustment for him, but I just want to go on record as saying how proud I am of him. He is determined to master gluten-free cooking and baking, and I know that if anyone can do it–it’s Jer! He seems to be feeling much better now that he has cut gluten out of his diet. I’m thinking about trying to go gluten-free for a week or two, just so I can relate to what he’s going through.
  • The Choral Society starts next week on Monday. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I don’t have words big enough to express my anticipation. I feel more like a little girl who must relate in small, boisterous exclamations: “I am so excited!” “I can’t wait!” “Yipee!”
  • It has now been almost two months since I left Fountain Bismarck for a new job in a doctor’s office. It is, without question, one of the best decisions I’ve made in my adult life. The hardest part about leaving any job, I think, is letting go of people and relationships. I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I love people, I really love them. There are so many people that God brought into my life through this job, and I miss them tremendously. Still, it was a good move. It was the right move. My new job is a great fit for me in so many ways, and I really can see myself “settling down” there. I can even see myself (gulp) taking a class or two in my spare time.
  • The potatoes? Yeah. History. Hehehe. What can I say? I will try again next year. I will spend some time in the cooler months reading and trying to discern where I erred.
  • I’ve been having bizarre dreams as of late. I won’t bore you with details, but I want to mention part of my dream last night. Have you seen the movie Source Code? Bonnie suckered me into watching this one–and I was glad for it! It’s a great movie about…well, watch it, and see if you can write a description of it. The main character basically is being sent into a scenario over and over, in the body of a total stranger, with the mission of finding the person who put a bomb on a train. He has eight minutes. It’s brilliant and bizarre. Anyway, my dream was like that. I was being sent into a situation that I didn’t understand and I was supposed to stay there until I understood it; and of course, in my great (un)wisdom and (im)patience, I kept leaving long before I understood–which meant that I kept having to start over.

There is much more on my heart and mind, but it is growing late (9:30!), and I need to read before bed.

Pax Christi.

semmie.

Your Name is Like Honey

 

I haven’t thought of this song in years. I’m not even sure I remembered it until tonight. Somewhere between the mess of my search for Yahweh, my leaving the church, and my first humbled profession of the Nicene Creed, I lost this song.

It’s not the only one. I have discarded more choruses than I have blemished paper. Some of it was intentional, to be honest. I became a lover of hymns, a seeker of hymns. Worse than the feeling that many of these modern tunes were empty was the feeling that they left me empty. And let’s not argue this point, friends–I do not for a moment assert that modern worship is substandard to traditional worship. I only assert that in my life for the last decade, modern worship has been mostly empty. Hymns were rich soil that I could dig down into. They were heavy with theology and difficult statements about faith. I needed hymns. I craved hymns.

And in the midst of that craving, I simply lost many choruses. Once in awhile I will recall one and I will sing it wholeheartedly. Usually, it makes me feel good and it reminds me that choruses and modern worship have shaped me in ways I cannot express.

But this song spilled out of me tonight from some distant memory. Was it one of Pastor Drake’s favorite songs? Pastor Wilbert? Pastor Gordy? I can never remember. One of them used to ask me to play it. A lot.

As I played and sang tonight, the words convicted me: Jesus, I love You; I love You.

Sometimes, folks, worship really is that simple. It is right to extol God for who He is, to proclaim His goodness and mercy, to praise His faithfulness and redeeming love for us. But it is also right–it is also appropriate–to sing softly to Him, the simple return: I love You. If His love doesn’t evoke that response in us, I think we’re in trouble.

Tozer, Mullins, & Choices

A.W. Tozer. The Pursuit of God. Page 103.

…the world of fallen men does not honor God. Millions call themselves by His Name, it is true, and pay some token respect to Him, but a simple test will show how little He is really honored among them. Let the average man be put to the proof on the question of who is above, and his true position will be exposed. Let him be forced into making a choice between God and money, between God and men, between God and personal ambition, God and self, God and human love, and God will take second place every time. Those other things will be exalted above. However the man may protest, the proof is in the choices he makes day after day throughout his life.

Rich W. Mullins. My One Thing.

Every night and every day

You hold on tight or you drift away

And you’re left to live with the choices you make

Character doesn’t happen by chance; it is created by our choices.

 

 

The Narnia Code

I suppose it is time to stop mulling over this book and write something of a review. I’ve been prolonging it because, quite frankly, I didn’t want to confuse my response to the content and style with any feelings I have about the format in which I purchased and read his book.

The Narnia Code: C.S. Lewis and the Secret of the Seven Heavens  by Michael Ward supposes that author C.S. Lewis based his work, The Chronicles of Narnia, on a pre-Copernican view of the planets (and so, if nothing else, we may say that Ward has aptly titled his work).

In regards to style, I am about to offer Ward perhaps the greatest compliment I own: His style feels comfortable, familiar, and easy—much like Lewis. When I read Lewis, I feel as if we’re sitting in his office and he is talking with me. Ward has a more concise manner of speaking with his audience (unlike Lewis, who sometimes wrote around and around and around in circles to finally come to a point), but it feels influenced by Lewis in this manner. I am very fond of it (in both cases).

When picking up a book of this nature, I often have a moment of hesitation: Will the academia of the content and the writing be so far over my head that I will have to literally suffer through the pages? In this case, the answer is a resounding ‘no.’ While Ward’s work draws from Lewis and other sources heavily (rightly so) and boasts an academic perspective, Ward has written a book that is very soluble. No Ph.D. required.

It’s also interesting. You know, my greatest concern with literature today is that much of it sounds the same. It becomes droll. The Narnia Code, whether truth or fancy, is a new, intriguing idea. The result of such writing is that it causes the reader to think critically about something, rather than simply consume the latest literary fad until she’s intoxicated with it.

But enough about Ward’s general style; let’s talk about the good stuff—The Secret of the Seven Heavens!

Ward’s premise is simple: There’s something more going on here than a children’s fairy tale. An honest reader must—I think—step away from The Chronicles of Narnia with a bit of a furrowed brow, realizing that Lewis has given us a puzzle. Let’s be real with each other: With the number of people who’ve been exposed to Narnia, I know Ward and I aren’t the only ones who found it strange that Father Christmas made a cameo in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It’s alright to admit it. As an academic, as a literary scholar and professor at Oxford, a thrown-together fairy tale seems unlikely.

I digress a moment to offer a similar example. Consider an episode of NCIS, titled Frame Up, where a disgruntled forensic lab monkey tries to frame Agent DiNozzo for murder. They find a torn latex glove at the crime scene, and when DiNozzo is interrogating himself in his cell, he responds to himself by saying, “A ripped glove at the scene of the crime? I know it seems a little sloppy for a trained investigator, but those are the breaks when you’re a homicidal maniac!” That is probably the best description I can offer of my feelings toward the alleged randomness of the Chronicles. Neither DiNozzo nor Lewis is a perfect character, but we expect a character to be consistent with himself. It is unusual that a man with a mind like Lewis’, whose other writings all depict a brilliant, logical mind, would throw a bunch of random, unrelated ideas together to write a kids book. Ward says it best here:

            “As I got older and began to read his other writings, I became ever more intrigued by the seemingly random aspects to the Chronicles. They were not what you would expect of a man like Lewis with a highly trained mind. In his younger days he was tutored by a rigorous, logical thinker, William Kirkpatrick, who taught him that he should always have reasons for anything he said.” (p. 18)

For this much, I am in strong agreement with Ward. I don’t want to share the details of The Narnia Code, because I think it’s a book any Lewis fan should read and weigh herself. The idea is that the Chronicles are representative of a pre-Copernican view of the planets. All of those seemingly random pieces of the stories that we thought Lewis incorporated just for fun—were there for a reason. Each book is aligned to a planet, takes on that planet’s history and mystery, emotion and mythology.

I know, right? Your head just exploded. It’s a fascinating premise. You must believe me when I tell you that I (in something akin to desperation) want  Ward to be right. I’ve never read another piece about the Chronicles that seemed to fit so well with what I already know of Jack and his writing. Wanting something to be true, however, does not make it so. And my only real contention with Ward’s book is this: Sometimes if you’re looking for a particular piece of evidence, you can be guilty of evidence bias. You find what you’re looking for and unknowingly ignore the pieces that might contradict your theory.

Please understand me. I am not accusing Ward of evidence bias. After reading his work, there is one thing I’m quite certain of, and that’s the fact that Ward has studied this a great deal. As his audience, however, I cannot (and will not) accept his theory without digging deeper myself. And yes—I have a plan to do so, beginning with a re-reading of The Chronicles of Narnia, a journey through Lewis’ poem, The Planets, and purchasing (in hard copy) Ward’s lengthier volume on the matter, Planet Narnia: The Seven Heavens in the Imagination of C.S. Lewis. I am also on a journey to find someone who staunchly disagrees with Ward to read some criticism of his theory.

Before I make my recommendation, let me say one final thing: The idea of C.S. Lewis doing something as devious as this—to write an entire 7-volume fairy tale with something of a secret meaning—fits exactly my impression of Lewis. It is mischievous and whimsical, to say the very least. It harms nobody (face it—we’ve all loved and enjoyed the Chronicles for years; very few seem bothered enough to dislike his tale, other than his good friend J.R.R. Tolkien and a few other sourpusses!), but makes you shake your head and chuckle when you think about it. That’s Jack for you! That, in itself, lends credibility to Ward’s theory of a Narnia Code.

Overall, I was pleased with this book and with Ward’s writing. I would recommend The Narnia Code: C.S. Lewis and the Secret of the Seven Heavens to any reader of Lewis, any student of astronomy, anyone interested in medieval literature, and anyone looking for something a bit fresher than most of our current literature.

Is it almost Christmastime?

A lot is going on in the world, and my life follows suit.

What I’m praying for those in Colorado…

That those who’ve been wounded physically and emotionally would know the peace of Christ. That those who know the peace of Christ would offer support to those hurting. That Christ would be, in all things, revealed as the coming King, our “God with us.”

What I’m praying for those in Burkina Faso…

That God would bring a good harvest. That those around the world with excess would be impressed to give freely and happily to help soften the devastation of the food crisis in the Sahel. That my little boys, though south of the affected region, would be salt and light to those they encounter, showing the love of Christ wherever they go.

What I’m thinking about…

My new job is going well. The garden (minus the spuds) seems to be growing well–but I still haven’t given up hope on the taters. I’ve been following this discussion about worship music. I’m very intrigued by it. I may write a post this week about my own thoughts. And oh yes, the doll and doll clothes were a hit with my niece. :)

On books…

I am reading Resounding Truth, which is proving a bit more difficult than I expected–not because it is difficult, so much as it is not what I anticipated. Begbie is brilliant, but very academic. I am neither. Still, I am working through it. I’m also reading Pride & Prejudice. Again. Yes. There is no book her equal. Austen is still the best observer of human character that I’ve ever read. And I just finished reading The Narnia Code, which I’ve been wanting to read for some time. I hope to write something of a review on it.

I will mention that I didn’t purchase a hard copy of The Narnia Code. I downloaded it and read it on my phone. It was sort of a trial. I’ve been considering buying a Nook or Kindle because of the outrageous amount of space books take up in my life. However, though I loved the convenience of being able to read wherever I was (even in bed, without the lights on), I must confess the experience left me more certain than ever that I am still a hard copy sort of girl. Call me crazy, but I love the familiarity of being able to touch and smell the pages of a book, to know exactly where in the book a certain sentence was that I particularly liked. I know there’s a shift in society, and hard copies are becoming obsolete (if not an oddity), but I just can’t follow suit. I can’t do it. I want my books. I need my books.

Speaking of the weirdness of smelling and touching paper…

Here’s a bizarre story. I as at the dollar store this weekend, looking for something specific. As always, I found myself in the office supply aisle (every once in awhile, I find a random treasure there). There were people milling in and out of the aisle, including a boy (maybe eight or nine years old) and his mother. Of all the people in the store, the boy walked up to me (to me) and said, “I have a question.” I smiled, not sure that he was talking to me, and said, “Yes?” He said, “Do you know where I can buy liquid ink?”

Liquid ink? I asked him to clarify (most ink is liquid). He said he was looking for ink that you would use in a pen. I suspected that he meant a bottle of ink, but I pressed him further. What was he going to use it for? A pen, he said; he wanted to make a pen out of a feather.

Aha!

Now, what are the chances? Probably no one else in the store at that time has any idea about writing with a feather. It was such an unexpected interaction, and I can’t explain why, but it did my heart good. Maybe it was the thought that somehow, this culture we live in is still raising up at least one young person who loves paper and ink.

And is it Christmastime yet?…

I confess, my heart is more and more yearning for Christmas. I can’t explain it. But…here’s a Christmas song for those of you who are hoping for Christmas, too.