Grand Weaver

I 'needed' to make my Amazon purchase $25 so that I could get free shipping - I stumbled across Ravi Zacharias' new book, 'The Grand Weaver' and wondered at the orchestration of it all. I have recently gone through the first interview with AIM for a short-term mission position this summer. Amongst the questions were several which touched on God's use of the bad things that have happened in my life. I haven't doubted that the pain in my past has been and will be used for 'good' in God's grand scheme of things. What I have doubted was God's planning in the process when I made decisions that were dreadfully wrong and contrary to anything He could possibly have willed for my life - am I to believe that He 'planned' that as well. I know that he knew those would be the choices that I would make, but I cannot fathom that He would will them. I'm reading this book with these questions in mind. If my mistakes were God's plan I do not understand my own free will at all. If we have the free will to reject Christ I would think that we also have the free will to periodically actually botch things up. It is God's plan and goodness that bring good from our botches and in that He is more good and powerful than we are - but we still have the 'right' to screw up.
The hard times in my life have been more than growing pains or the bumps and bruises associated with learning to stand and walk alone - they were heart and soul damaging and it ultimately was only God that could heal me. Does God plan for us to hurt (ourselves) so deeply that He knows that He is only one who will be able to heal us? I suppose it was the same love that turned from Christ on the cross, knowing that the good would far exceed the suffering. But how different this God is than the God of the Old Testament - the blood shed; the broken, bitter relationships; the impersonal nature of a tribal God.
Perhaps it is not a plan of God for us to hurt ourselves, perhaps it is that in walking away from Him - the damage is inevitable. This is known with the fact that there is no guarantee of a pain-free life in the shadow of Him either - there is only a guarantee that He is still there and He loves and desires for us to be molded and formed into the masterpiece that He ultimately planned for us to be.

afghan numbers

I just finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. The only sense I can make of the political situation in Afghanistan is that it most often doesn't make sense. Hosseini makes it clear that it doesn't make sense to the people there either. The Taliban were, for a season, a relief from the fighting between warlords. The women have no rights under the Taliban, but it may be better than not being able to go anywhere for fear of being hit by a rocket.
The two main characters in this book sit one evening and drink three cups of tea. Hosseini said nothing of the significance of three cups specifically, but I remembered lines from Mortenson's book regarding the significance of sharing three cups. I had to go back and search the book, but sharing three cups of tea is to become family. In Mortenson's book it is the third time you share a cup of tea, in Hosseini's the women sat into the evening and drank three cups of tea. Either way, it is time shared. Not just time, but relaxed, significant time.
My time with my tea cup (rather large mug really) is my time. It is my time away from whatever stress is in front of me. It is my time with my book. It is my hourglass for the amount of time I have left. Three cups of tea would be similar to my reheating my tea rather than gulping the last six ounces. I am so often pleased to find time remaining in my tea cup when I had momentarily wondered away from my book and then forgotten that I still had time. (I am more than a bit distractable.)
At the most surface level, the freedom to sit and drink three cups of tea - undisturbed by the war or children, or in this book, the shared husband, would be in-and-of-itself a gift.

judging a book

There was a time in my life that I thought that I would far prefer the gift of a book than, say, flowers. It was my idea that roses and posies would wilt, die, and fade and that a book and its contents would endure forever. Now, nearly buried in my hoarded books, I am rethinking this notion of enduring forever.




I have books whose contents ought never to have endured the publishing process, let alone my dragging them about the country with me.

So now, in my years wizened by experience and back-breaking book-hauling, I have reconsidered the gift of flowers and the blessed release of returning their components to the circle of life when their spent blooms adorn the top of the compost pile. My first days of class this week, my desk was made beautiful by the bouquet gifts of administration and one student, encouraged and enabled by his thoughtful mother.

This being said, my mailwoman is not aware of my decreased interest in hoarding books. - ah' thanks be to Amazon. (http://www.amazon.com)

lizard keepers

"Garnett wanted to tell her a thing or two about God's plan. That the creatures of this earth came to pass and sometimes passed on. That these matters were not ours to control if we were, as she claimed, merely one species among our brethren, the animals. And if we were not the equal of animals, if we were meant instead to be masters and keepers of Eden, as the Bible said, then "lizards" (salamanders) were put here for man to go bass fishing with, and that was that. She couldn't have it both ways. It was all quite clear to Garnett. Yet his logic always cowered before her curt and snappy replies." ~ Prodigal Summer, pg.138,139

I hadn't understood the philosophy of what being master of the animals could mean. I didn't know that it could mean that utilizing may rightly mean 'unto extinction', or for no apparent purpose other than to be be utilized or killed. I had thought inherent in this command and charge was the notion of 'stewardship' and preservation.
It is always good to be stretched a little and come up against new ideas, or more of an understanding with existing practices.

Mansfield Park

finally done - didn't help that I read a couple of Harry Potters in between chapters. There are times that I have found that reading 'romances' - or books that the main story line is who's going to get hitched to who - can be frustrating for an aging spinster. (by Jane Austen's time's standards) This was not the case for Mansfield Park because no matter how socially and culturally and historically acceptable it was at the time, I can't be jealous of the syrupy sweet heroine who gets to marry her cousin. I respect the fact that she has a good head on her shoulders, but if I could ever find myself in the same position, I would hope that my disposition would not be so persecuted regarding the whole state of affairs.
Missing some of the language, of course, I like the movie as well as the book - Fanny's got some noticeable spunk -
but she still marries her cousin.

HP & the Deathly Hallows

no longer a children's book.

Rowling managed to complete the series having her cake and eating it too. (or eating her cake and having it too.)
I was surprised on the ultimate stand that Rowling took on evil and the nature of her bad guy. I was surprised at the choices that Harry made and their consequences.
Surprise is a good element to maintain for 7 books.

The book is violent. The opening scene was nauseating and disturbing, but it was supposed to be - evil is disturbing. Deathly Hallows is quite deathly. I had heard prior to reading the book that two characters would die. I don't know which of the 8(?) characters who were killed counted as the 2 - but certainly emotional.

I will not pretend that the book teaches Christian values or is a Christian book - I think Rowling has made it quite clear that it is not. (or where Christian truths are evident, she did not intend for them to be.)
However, reading the book will not grease the slippery slope.

Is an ability to see the good in art that has been questioned a 'good' thing, or a blindness to the 'dangers' being questioned? There are times that, much to my chagrin, I do wonder - what would Jesus do? I wonder if Jesus would be able to have any opinions or preferences about anything. I saw a West Wing episode in which the president couldn't say that he didn't like green beans without the green bean farmers getting mad at him - could Christ say that he doesn't like Pepsi without cults rising up and refusing caffeine? Could Christ say that he does like fantastical fiction without raising the eyebrows of concerned friends and neighbors?
As little as I can figure, He would probably have little to do with cliches and pat answers, but He may not have had time for Harry Potter either.

Dwelling Places

"And contrary to what therapists and preachers seem to think, talking is not always the way to learn things. For now, looking at things is his main conversation." pgs 162-163

This is in reference to the main character's exploration of photography - viewing the world through the frame of a lens. Photos do allow for a process of growth, healing, and conversation. Framing an image depicts only a concise portion of a whole. In life there are times that issues must be viewed through a frame of reference which enables the cropping out of details that are not pertinant. Photos offer the challenge of looking for new ways to look at things. This skill transfers to other areas of life - cooking, communicating, teaching, relating. The confidence to crawl outside the challenge and come at it from a completely different angle is learned, practiced, and strengthened. Photography reminds you that in most scenes, if you look a little longer there is something there of beauty and interest. This beauty and interest may require you to get down on the ground to meet your subject on its level. It may require you to cross all polite boundaries of space and see a subject more closely than you have looked before. Photogaphy teaches you to look for a focal point - one issue to focus on and have communicated within that piece.
In these ways teaching is an art form. The kids I teach may require that I come to where they are to view the challenge. They may need me to focus on one issue at a time. And they each desperately need me to see the beauty that is inherant in their lives regardless of what I may need to look past or over or under to see it.

Prayer, Staph, and Swallowtails

Yancey's introduction to this book boiled down to: 'Prayer - 'Does it make one hoot of difference?' Life is full of coincidences - serendipitous at every corner. So there is the haunting question of what is coincidence, simply the actions of the fates (still looking to spiritual causation for physical happenings) and what is an action of God.
I have an interest in English. When actively pursuing this interest I am reading, gleaning vocabulary from my reading, taking notes, and doing what I can to pay attention -to read actively and with an awareness that enables what I have read to become a part of me. Words that I did not know existed will suddenly begin to pop up with a frequency that seems uncanny. Even in the vocabulary poor society in which we live, words with detailed nuances of meaning meander about in our lives. I am assuming the word 'ubiquitous' was in use prior to the day that I heard it first (how could it not have been?) - but I had never noticed it. I now know that Staph and Athlete's foot are both ubiquitous and there is no reason to wear flip flops at the YMCA. It is compromised defences that allow for infection - the organism itself is always present waiting for opportunity for a port of entrance. I learned this tidbit of information the day that Dr. Zorba used 'my' ubiquitous word on his radio show. Each time I hear this word or use it I think - 'That's a word that I know and that I made myself familiar with - I know how it is to be used.'
In this way, prayer is similar. The actions of God have always existed. In joining in partnership with God we are able to come to know more fully the character of God and are then able to recognize His actions when we see them. It is the greatest opportunity to live life consciously; with an awareness that taps into the source of the universe. It is in this conscious communion that life becomes prayer. Glimpses of swallowtail butterflies become a moment's reminder of a God who is passionate about beauty, details, and life abundant. And then to know that while He is aware of the swallowtail and the sparrow - He finds my life 'worth more' than many sparrows or swallowtails.
And since swallowtails are not quite ubiquitous - I was happy to get this picture.

On the right ascensions

of the equatorial fundamental stars and the corrections necessary to reduce the right ascensions of different catalogues to a mean homogeneous system.

Okay, I didn't actually get any further than the title, but I think the title says as much as is necessary.

The Man Who Was Thursday

There are, of course, books that I have read because I feel that I ought to. This was, in a way, one of those books. I wished to be introduced to the fiction of GK Chesterton and this book sounded odd enough to be interesting (and the library had a copy). I do not know if it is my own deficiencies in intellect, or limited exposure to this style, but I was primarily confused by the book. I found myself feeling that I had fallen through a rabbit hole and emerged somewhere between Perelandra and the circus.
It was a journey steeped in extensive vocabulary opportunities, but frustrating to feel that I could not remotely begin to discern the meaning of a word since I had limited ideas as to what was taking place in the sentence.
There is an annotated edition available...

Bright Evening Star

I don't know if I don't have time to think of anything to say about what I'm reading, or don't have anything to say.
I suppose they are often one-and-the-same.


"When we try to explain it, we lose it. When we try to explain the stories which have grown up around God's love we lose the love in the midst of the explanations, because love defies explanations. What matters is not whether Adam and Eve were actual, provable, existing people or whether they had belly buttons, but that God in infinite love peopled this lovely little planet for us to care for and expected that we would love each other, and that we would therefore love the God who made it all.

As long as our explanations are stories, seeking after truth rather than fact, we need not fear them. But when they become finite answers to infinite questions they contribute less to knowledge than to divisions and hatred and tears in heaven.

Unless an answer is "I love you," it is apt to cause pain, not explanation."
p. 167

A Child Called 'It'

A quarter of the students in my class said that this was their favorite book, so I read it.

It's sad.

Irrestible Revolution

I joined a small group study (kinda) centered around this book. Some of the people in the study have truly beautiful lives lived for God. I found them to be inspiring and good to talk to twice a month.
Writing about the book would take a good bit of typing, which I may do someday, but not today.

Letter to a Christian Nation

I thought since this book was, in a way, addressed to me- or at least sort of, that I should read it. I needn't say much about how angry Mr. Harris is. I was sorry that he had some good points. There is a lot that has been done in the name of religion that has hurt the planet. There has been a lot done in the name of just about anything that has hurt the planet. There has also been a lot done in the name of God that has hurt people - with and without His blessing. (in reference to the God-ordered atrocities of the old testament) There is so much about God that I don't begin to understand.
like the massacres and all that He chooses not to intervene in.
I have only been able to rest in the fact that God has ultimately proven to be bigger, greater, and deeper than all that I do and do not understand about Him.

I don't understand gravity either. - I'm told that neither does anyone else.

Margin

Over this Winter break (it was quite a bit longer than a Christmas break) I worked to get rid of excess stuff. Ultimately five leaf bags went elsewhere as well as several bags of trash. An increase of at least ten pounds ended up being the deciding factor for many of my skirts and pants. An infestation of some sort of white fungus decided the fate of some of my plants. I organized other categories of belongings and labeled rubbermaids for ready access when a need could arise. Recognizing the fact that I am uncertain of where I may up living/working/teaching in the next year, I do not wish to get rid of supplies that I will then be repurchasing in the next months. (This week starting teaching I, of course, found a use for one sewing project that was in those leaf bags.)

While I was sorting through containers of things I listened to Richard Swenson’s Margin on audio CD. The premise of the book is built on the Dr. Swenson’s knowledge of his patients - their physical ailments, stress, and its relationship to their overextended lives. This overextension of resources and energy is a phenomenon primarily experienced by industrial nations and defines living life without margin. While situations in my past have taught me my own limits concerning work and class loads I currently have much opportunity to reduce my possession load. I have desired a life of simplicity (dreams of chickens in the yard) but this had not translated to better management of how much I have and hoard. I had operated more on the assumption that good stewardship would mean spending money efficiently as possible – utilizing second hand stores, clearance sales (can’t beat buying shirts for a buck), and hand making things rather than recognizing I have what I need and stemming the influx. I think it is apparent that I still have more than I need in the fact that I have one body and multiple pairs of jeans. I think my remaining wardrobe will remain for the possibility of needing to be able to dress to teach. I cannot, in this country, hold a teaching position without decent clothes.

But Dr. Swenson’s book is not about getting rid of everything. It is about carefully evaluating values, energy levels, resources and not attempting to live life beyond the limits of the printed page. In this analogy, I think it is that our relationship with God is not the element of our lives that is at the top of the page or in the position of number one priority. It is that our God and relationship to Him are the page itself. He is all that supports and defines each sentence of our existence. Swenson points out that without margin life is cluttered, stressful, draining, and possibly harmful. It is also clear that excess time at work or energy spent managing belongings can impede opportunities to engage in the gifts of life that ‘matter’. Swenson encourages authentic relationships, availability for service, and resting in God.

I don’t know if multi-tasking: cleaning out stuff while listening to audio books is in alignment with the philosophy, but I found it to be good encouragement. I am quite aware that I have already accumulated more than I may ever need. I have more cross-stitch patterns than I could complete in two lifetimes. But now, if my lifetime would cross the path of another’s lifetime who would be interested in some of ‘my’ cross-stitch patterns – they can have ‘em. The only chance that I think I’ve got for remotely accepting the same philosophy regarding my books is the fact that we have a very good library system.

(These chickens are pets. They live online at GotPetsOnline. I fear if I were to actually have chickens, they would also be pets - which isn't very cost effective.)

Three Cups of Tea

The church that I attend holds 'Mission Mixers' for missionaries to give updates of what they have been doing. Prior to the latest one, in which the missionary would be speaking about time spent in Pakistan, I decided to read Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. The subtitle of the book reads, 'One Man's Mission to Fight Terrorism and Build Nations...One School at a Time'. This, of course, is the selling point for the book. The story as related, does not tell of Mortenson making this his quest and then setting out to do it. It was, that as an expression of extreme gratitude to the people of mountain village in Pakistan, Mortensen promised to build them as school. He didn't say he would do so to fight terrorism, but simply because they needed one. As the project grew and schools were built it become more apparent that education in any form could counteract the reliance of the village students on the madrassa schools of the Taliban. These schools were built to be taught by Pakistani teachers, teaching Pakistani culture and religion, but not militant Islam. In this the students were granted, with and through their educations, choice. In the years following the fall of the towers, Mortenson does strongly advocate for education as “one prong of a two prong attack on the ‘war on terror’". He points out if the same amount of money were poured into the education systems of Pakistan and Afghanistan that the effects would be lasting. It is argued that the current methods being used to attempt to fight the terrorists are creating more animosity as well as uniting and deepening the resolve and hatred of those who were already opposed to America. We are, in fact, ensuring the survival of the roots of the enemy. The other fact pointed out is that the war efforts are obliterating the opportunities for those who are not involved in militant/fundamentalist efforts. Schools are leveled and business wiped out. Many choose to fight for the Taliban because they are offered the only paycheck, option, or future available.

I didn't finish the book before the Mission Mixer. I was (and am) I bit unsure of asking the missionary what he thought/thinks of the war. It is a loaded question and posed to someone who has walked through the mine fields of that area, it seemed more than politically incorrect. But it did leave me thinking of what do I think of the war. More so it left me thinking about education and the choices that are made available with an education. These choices go far beyond career opportunities to the basic choices of existence. Without any way to attain information other than what is handed to you by those who hold the information there is no way to consider options. This considering of options and then being free to make choices based on these options provide some of the foundational principles of being human. It is here that human rights are violated and in ways that I cannot even comprehend. I understand that there are limitations to the information that I can gather. I cannot see the world not through my 'lenses' - my worldview. I cannot know all the facts of any situation, but I can read. I can gather as many facts as I can gather. I can know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I don't have enough information. I can know that there is a more complete picture available because I have been exposed to portions of that picture. Flipside, I know that literacy and education are not the only way that a person may gather information and learn to critically think, but I would think that they certainly do help and are the way for most of us.

I learned a bit more about Pakistan and Afghanistan. I think the most memorable is that the vehicles are often decorated in bright pictures, paintings, and plastic flowers (?). It would seem that is a more of a universal practice than I had known. Perhaps America's efforts to get rid of graffiti are anti-cultural and ought to be embraced and celebrated as artwork and the expressions of a people. But that is probably beside the point.
The 'bad guys' that America are attempting to fight are not all the people of Afghanistan and Pakistan or Iraq or Iran. They are a few - who took their educations seriously enough to learn to fly a plane. But it only takes one right (wrong) negative to completely undo all the positive. If the "true enemy is ignorance", (p.310) education will continue to be an important weapon in the war against that negative.

So many books, so little time

Once upon a time, a long time ago, I was dating a guy. The first time that we went out with his friends we had all been sitting eating for a while and he left the table to go wherever. Left with his friends I expected the questions or comments that wouldn't be voiced in his presence. While I was sitting there still working on cold French fries, the good ol' boy sitting across the table from me stated, 'Man, you do eat slow.' I don't know if I attempted to 'defend' myself, but all I could've said is that I always have. I have often smiled to think that as I was expecting deep, revealing tidbits about the nature of this budding relationship, I learned that my leisurely eating pace had made an impression worth telling one's friends about.
I still eat slow.
Attempting to make comments about the books that I have read has resulted in reading through a couple of books (several if audio books count) before remotely thinking about what I would want to say about the first. I could present thoughts half-chewed, but that seems as polite as speaking with one's mouth full. But, perhaps in the effort to say anything at all that is precisely what must be done. I would only ask for the consideration for it to be recognized that 'I'm not done chewing'. On most issues and topics it has seemed that I may never be done chewing, but that seems a bit overwhelming, and with the chewing analogy - gross.
Since the first entry to the 'literary pursuits' blog I have cleaned up book pile #4.5 and fish tank #2.5. Several boxes of books have been catalogued and made ready for storage and some of the piles of books have found homes in the bookshelf - where they loom over my head while I type, reminding me of all that is yet to be considered, chewed, and digested.
Enough of the analogy. The point was....
that maybe there shouldn't have been an analogy.

The Reasoning

As part of the process of organizing my life I am considering organizing my blog as well. I am a rampant book-starter and a periodic book-finisher. But started, or finished - I gain much from reading. This semester's completion of my courses required for my degree is leaving me feeling much at a loss as to where to process all this literary information. I will not have my professors as a rapt audience, sounding board, or opportunity for critique. I will not have my paper-writing process to hash through information and find the possible holes in my own arguments. And for all this I am sad.

I am determined that this aspect of my education will continue. There are books in piles about my room, stacked like cairns pointing toward great knowledge and truth. (Most importantly stacked out of the walkways.) Pile #4.5, sitting in front of fish tank #2.5 consists of The Fountainhead, Jesus Among the Other Gods, The Bro's K, Soul Survivor, The Evidential Power of Beauty, 1 Dead in the Attic, Essays of Montaigne, Cold Mountain, The Portable Library of Conrad, and the Once and Future King. Sitting off to the side to keep from blocking the poor beta altogether are Sherlock Holmes: The Short Stories, Walk on Water, The Universe Next Door, and Irresistible Revolution. The books that I get at the library are those that I am most likely to complete -- I will have to return them, so the limited time provides the necessary pressure to persist to the end.

With more than adequate resources of books started, stopped, set down, piled upon, and lost in the glorious abundance of literature or even the fraction of it that is stacked about my room I will endeavor to write about reading. In all honesty I feel I have not practiced this type of writing (if it is a type) as much as I have chemistry lab results or observational notes of classroom experience. But as there is much to gain and learn in process, the process and its inherent bumblings and stumblings will hopefully be deemed worthwhile.

(I will change out that fish tank water - he does have a bubbler and therefore some oxygen in there)