This post is about race mixing. I’m in favor of it.

29 April 2010

This is an idea I’ve had rattling around my noodle for a few years now, and while I may be doing the conversational equivalent of licking my finger and sticking it in a light socket, I’m going to take a chance and toss it out there …

A lot of people in the past – and some in the present – object to the idea of “race mixing” – i.e.,  people marrying/having kids with other people of different ethnic backgrounds.  At times, it has been referred to as miscegenation or “mongrelization” – great term, that one; makes it sound like you’re trying to breed prize cocker spaniels or something.

At least in North America, the objectors to relationships across racial lines have usually been Caucasian, which makes no sense to me.  What’s so spectacular about having pale skin? (Mine is pale, and I find it rather boring, to be frank.)  If anything, it strikes me that other races should object to marrying us, just because we don’t look as good.  But I digress.

Here’s where I’m going with this: what if so-called “race mixing” is actually a good idea, for the human species?  In fact, what if it actually brings us closer to God’s ideal?
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Tired

27 April 2010

It’s quarter to six in the evening, and I just feel beat.  No energy at all.

Now, this shouldn’t be.  For one, I’ve been working to boost my energy level — taking B-12, drinking Wired, etc.  And for that matter, today was the day the respite care nurse comes, so it’s essentially my day off.  And while I didn’t get a full eight hours’ sleep last night, I’m pretty sure I got seven (plus some time lying in bed reading).  No … sorry, I was about to say “no reason I should be yawning now,” but I had to stop for a yawn … oops, there’s another one.  (Looks like Malcolm Gladwell is right; even just reading, er, the “Y word” can cause you to act it out.)

And it’s not like I did a whole lot today — certainly no serious physical labor.  I mean, all I did was:


Just wasn’t a big deal

26 April 2010

At the moment, our house doesn’t have a working bathtub.

Kid you not.  Our landlord got back to Stockton a few days ago from what has become his semi-permanent home in western Colorado, with a plan to rip out our old tub/shower and everything around it.  It’s needed killin’ since before we moved in over six years ago, but recently the rot, mildew and general decrepitude had risen past the point where it could be ignored.  So today, he came in with his wife and another guy and started hacking away.  As of tonight, the tub is here but not hooked up, the panels to go around it aren’t in place, there’s a pile of debris in our back yard (they had to not only remove the old tub and panels, but also the floor underneath!) – and they still have to take out the floor under the toilet, which is in equally bad shape.

This has caused about the level of disruption you’d expect.  My wife and daughter aren’t able to shower tonight.  I couldn’t give Sean his bath this morning.  There’s plaster dust and bits of sheetrock scattered from here to breakfast.  The level of noise in the house and basement today was far above normal.  And this is all without them having to turn the water off – yet (that’ll happen tomorrow) – or all the other things that still must be accomplished.  It’ll be another day, maybe two, before our lavatory is fully functional.

So how do I feel in the midst of all this chaos?  Eh, fine.  No worries.

Had this happened a year ago, though … totally different answer.

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Congregational Journey revisited: “the baldness of the line”

25 April 2010

Yesterday, I was going through some stacks of papers I had allowed to pile up too long, and ran across a folder full of bulletins I had collected during my Congregational Journey last year.  One of them in particular caught my attention, not so much because of what congregation I’d received it from as because of a note I’d made on it.

Said bulletin was from Tabernacle of Faith Community Church, dated February 8, 2009.  (You may want to review my account of that trip, just for reference.)  That visit was one of the more disheartening ones I made (which is saying something), and one of the reasons why was the gap between the size and perceived spiritual maturity of the congregation and the grandiose plans it had for the future.  And by “gap,” I mean “yawning chasm akin to the Grand Canyon.”  A rather bored congregation of eighteen (half of them teens or younger) was supposed to be asking God for a huge new complex in downtown Stockton and “500 SOULS For 2009,” according to the pastors.  How the tiny group was expected to manage such a project or convert (let alone disciple) so many people was not stated and (I suspect) not even considered.

With that in mind, on the cover of the bulletin I wrote: should √ back in autumn, see if closer to goal (heck, see if more than 20 show up)

Needless to say, I was too busy last autumn to even think about following up in such a way (see the gap in my blog entries between August ’09 and March ’10; same meaning of “gap” as above).  But when I found the bulletin yesterday, I sensed a little noodge in my spirit, as if to say, “now is the time” …

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Accessing the power available

17 April 2010

I mentioned in my last blog entry that we had purchased a new, powered lawn mower, owing to the fact that I was no longer physically able to shove a push mower around our verdant (and uneven) yards.  I looked upon it as an unfortunate capitulation to middle age, the giving up of an ideal (however small and unimportant) of taking care of things semi-naturally and getting valuable exercise.  But I was prepared to move on and deal with my new-found limitations with dignity and fortitude.

So Thursday afternoon, I parked Sean and his wheelchair in a nice semi-shady spot, hauled the new electric mower out of the basement and went to it …

… and an hour later, I had one question in my mind: “Why didn’t someone TELL me how much easier it would be?!?”

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A day in the life

12 April 2010

This is one I’ve been thinking about for a while: taking a page from one of my favorite writers, ESPN.com’s Bill Simmons, and doing a running diary of a typical day for me, with Sean and the rest of the fam.  Not that there’s really any such thing as a typical day – each day has its own variations, its own minor crises.  But I wanted to give you a window into the experience, so I’m taking today, Monday, 12 April 2010, and documenting it step-by-step.

Here we go …

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A small, illustrative incident

11 April 2010

I had something happen to me this morning that seemed to sum up a lot about the American church, and why, by all independent measurements, it’s falling to pieces.

Funny thing was, it didn’t take place in a Sunday morning service.  Or a congregational board meeting, or an outreach event, or anything like that.  No, this happened in a parking lot.

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