The Unholy Trinity of McLaren, Pagitt, and Jones emerge from the primordial soup (photo by Courtney Perry)

I’m back from a brief digital sabbath, and my first pixels must be in gratitude to Scot Miller for so ably guest posting in my absence. Based on the comments, many of you resonated with Scot’s posts, particularly the one on his journey to progressive Christianity. I’ve given Scot an open invitation to guest post whenever he wants, so keep an eye out for him (and when you see his thoughtful comments, encourage him to expand them into full-fledged posts).

Over the weekend, Courtney and I joined Doug and Shelley Pagitt at the home of Brian and Grace McLaren in southwest Florida. The McLarens have been wanting to have us down there for several years, and this year the timing and the frequent flier miles happened to coincide perfectly.

Among other things, we:

A McLaren tortoise (photo by Courtney Perry)

• played tennis (the first time in 20 years for me)
• kayaked through the intercoastal waterways
• communed with Brian’s tortoises
• watched the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico
• talked about the Trinity
• grilled steaks
• hung out with Roy and Leslie Terry
• ate fish that Brian had caught the day before (so good!)
• took long runs
• talked presidential politics
• drank too much coffee
• talked about books, publishing, and speaking
• prayed the blessings of John O’Donohue

Mainly, I read. On Sunday, I read the New York Times cover-to-cover, a holiday tradition for me. I also read Lauren Winner’s beautiful new memoir, Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis; I’ll blog about it next week. Brian had me read a section of Miroslav Volf’s Allah: A Christian Response. I continued my re-read of Moltmann’s God in Creation. And my current novel is Wolf Hall (which is amazing).

I did not even bring a computer with me, for the first time in many years. I did not check Facebook or Twitter even once (though I admit to scrolling through email about once a day to see if there was anything urgent). The result of that sabbath was, I must say, a mix. On the one hand, I felt a clear head to truly engage the people and the nature around me. On the other hand, I also experienced a creeping anxiety about all of the emails that I knew were piling up.

Even so, I’m looking forward to my next digital sabbath, whenever that may be…

I’ve got the above hanging in my garage, the result of a successful hunt last weekend.  That means I’ve got some plucking in my future.  Anyone got a great pheasant recipe that they care to share?  So far this year I’ve made pheasant soup and a cumin-pheasant goulash, so I’m looking for something different.

Albert contemplates the Wild Goose before him.

I realize that most of you don’t come here to read about my hunting exploits.  So I won’t bore you (or disgust you) with them.  But suffice it to say that I had a great opening weekend here in Central Minnesota: a couple wood ducks in the bag; one goose shot, retrieved, plucked, cleaned, roasted, and eaten with stuffing and gravy; a top-notch performance by first-time hunter Albert (seen above); and unparalleled companionship by champion duck caller Jason Mitchell.

If you’re like me, you’d like to listen to radio when the kids are in the house that’s somewhere between the cotton candy of Radio Disney and the occasional F-Bomb on The Current (or your favorite alt music station).  Minnesota Public Radio fills in that gap with an excellent station called Wonderground Radio.  He had it on last night and heard everything from the Jayhawks, to bluegrass, to DeVotchka, to Coldplay, to “Conjunction Junction, What’s Your Function?”

Seriously, check it out.

And if you’re more of a folky, try MPR’s Radio Heartland.

Tonight is National Night Out, known around here as Night to Unite (some controversy about where the money was going from a few years back).  Courtney, the kids, and I are hosting a block party.  We’ll have some grills going, a Frisbee throwing contest, and an outdoor movie.

My questions for you are:

1. What activities do you have planned for NNO?
2. What movie do you think we should show?  I planned on showing The Music Man, since it would appeal to the, er, more senior members of our block, but a neighbor thought that E.T. might be a better choice — and I think she might be right — but the problem is that E.T. is not streamable on Netflix, and I need a streamable movie.

You asked for it.  More photos of our wedding from the incomparable Huy Nguyen.

Well, I’ve been married for a week.  So far so good.

Our brilliantly gifted wedding photographer, Huy Nguyen (named one of the Top 10 Wedding Photographers in the World) has posted a few preview pics of our wedding on his site.  Here’s a taste (click the photo to see more):

copyright Huy Nguyen

Like thousands of other teams across the country, the Little League team on which my son plays — and which I coach — was engaged in a season-ending tournament this weekend.  We won our first game yesterday on a soupy field, and the boys were flying high.  In our second game, against the best team in our division, we played as well as we have all season.  It was a back-and-forth game, as we exchanged the lead with the other team.  But, alas, as the time limit came up and other teams waited anxiously to take the field, we were behind.

And so our season ended, not really as a baseball game should, decided by a clock.  But the boys held their heads high, and there was nary a tear.  I think that’s because they knew that they had played their hearts out and that they were poised to defeat a superior team.

I’ve been a youth pastor, directed camps and retreats, coached teams, and led a Cub Scout den, but never have I experienced such a wonderful, unified, joyous group of kids.  Plus, I coached with two other dads with whom I got along famously.

It was an honor to be their coach, and I will miss them.

I’m getting (re-)married next week, and I’ve been looking for inspiration in the vow department.  When I was a pastor, I virtually disallowed couples to use self-written vows in ceremonies that I was officiating.  The reason: they were entering into a covenant that has been entered into billions of times by billions of people.  They weren’t making this up — singing solo — but were instead joining a chorus of people who’d done this before.  Further, a recitation of traditional vows gave every married person in the congregation the chance to squeeze their spouse’s hand and, in a way, renew their own vows.

But as a divorced person, I cannot avoid the fact that, though I truly meant “until death do us part” back in 1997, by 2008 that commitment had unraveled.  So I, and other divorced persons, are left with a quandary:

1. Re-enter the institution of marriage using the same vows, knowing that it didn’t work out last time, but vowing that it will this time. Or,
   
2. Come up with new vows, but without hedging your bets about whether it will work out this time.

I’ve been poking around the internet, looking for something that will get my attention, something that someone else has written that seems to be relatively traditional, yet nod to the fact that anyone who is remarrying after divorce isn’t exactly traditional.  A few, of course, are rejected out-of-hand:

Male
_____, we read in Genesis, “Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother and cleave unto his wife,” and in Proverbs “Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing.” He has ordained that the husband be the head of the wife. He instructs me, as the one who will be your husband, to love you as Christ loves the Church. It is my desire and delight to follow this scriptural teaching. With all my heart, I make this pledge to you.

Female
______, the Lord instructs me as the one who will be your wife to submit to you as unto Him. Our Father created woman to be man’s helper. It is my desire and delight to follow this scriptural teaching. With all my heart I make this pledge to you.

Others make me throw up a little in my mouth:

I am proud to marry you this day, (Name). I promise to wipe away your tears with my laughter, and your pain with my caring and my compassion. We will wipe out the old canvases of our lives, and let [God, with His amazing artistic talent], fill them with new color, harmony and beauty. I give myself to you completely, and I promise to love you always, from this day forth.

I’ve decided that I will write our vows myself.  I risk the cheese-factor, but I will do all in my power to avoid that.  And I will keep in mind what I learned years ago, when I read JL Austin’s brilliant book: Vows are performative utterances; they are words that do things.

The past year has been financially hellish for me with a home foreclosure resulting from divorce. And no entity has been as unhelpful downright evil as US Bank.  Personnel from US Bank have been consistently unhelpful and unwilling to work with our situation.  Just this morning, I was literally yelled at by an employee named David Bishop in the loan recovery department.  When I ultimately asked to be transferred to his supervisor, he transferred me to a fax machine.  When I called back and asked for his supervisor’s extension so that I could call her directly, I was given a dead extension.

US Bank has scuttled two short sale offers on the house because they were unwilling to take less than was owed to them on the home equity loan, even though Bank of America, holder of the mortgage, approved the sales and stood to lose a lot more.

They call me nearly every day, but when I call back, no one returns my calls.

And now, as I try to work out an agreement that would allow me to begin to rebuild my credit and actually get US Bank about 25% of what they are owed on this loan, Mr. Bishop shouts at me and tells me no deal.

So, all I can think to do now is notify all of my social media networks that US Bank is a no good company, and you should not do business with them.

And when you take your account away, tell them it is because of the way that their employees like David Bishop treated customers, and because their policies trump common sense financial solutions to problems.