7 Scattered Takes

Here I am, awake with the dawn, leaping up to industry and…oh never mind, I can’t lie. It’s like 9:30 and I’m still just reading the internet. Better people than me have been up for hours. How bout some Takes.

One
So the Episcopal Church of Scotland is going in the unoriginal direction of cultural approbation, and GAFCON and the ACNA are taking cautious, prudent, and merciful steps for Anglican Christians in Europe. It’s not surprising and praying would be a really good idea. We will probably have some kind of words to say about this on the podcast but in the meantime, here is David Ould.

Two
I got to be on The Drive Home show with John and Kathy again yesterday. I come in at the 1:14:00 mark or so. I confused myself as I thrashed around trying to connect Wonder Woman, of all things, to the insanity of modern motherhood. It’s not really Wonder Woman’s fault, of course. I’m still trying to, probably uselessly, draw a line between every child getting to self identify as a superhero and the reality that if everyone is special, as my son likes to say, than no one is. When all women just by virtue of being women get elevated to the heights, empowered if you will, the bar must needs drop very low for what counts as an accomplishment. The kinds of things you end up congratulating her for will be stuff that she should be doing anyway, like waking up in the morning and putting one foot in front of another. If I amaze the world for keeping my children alive and being able to think my way out of a paper bag, than women haven’t come very far. Anyway, I promise to give this a rest. I will blog about something else next week. I totally do get caught in loops.

Three
I have, though, been congratulating myself all week for being consistent. I really did resolutely refuse to freak out through eight years of Obama. And I’m still busily doing it now. I am willing to stay informed about the events of the day, like whatever is going on with Comey, and in the U.K., and everywhere, but I refuse utterly to flap around on either side and imagine that what is happening now is any worse or any better than what went on yesterday. The outrage machine can not make me dance. I will continue on in a calm and normal way of life–well, as calm as you can be when your dog comes down with a broken tummy and you have to pull up all the carpet in the hallway right now, I’m serious, right this second.

Four
I took the opportunity last night to educate myself at the hands of some of the children from the neighborhood who come to our Shepherd’s Bowl. ‘Do you girls like Ariana Grande?’ I asked. They nodded and said sure, she was fine. I asked what the music was about and they shrugged. They played a lot of other kinds of songs on my phone, from lots of singers I have vaguely heard of. They were very good about policing their choices for bad words, and got into a fight about why bad language shouldn’t be played Right There, you know, in the parish hall of the church. ‘Because this place is About God!’ the older one admonished the younger. Then they played a song all about how if I love myself I don’t need nobody one else and I made bold to say that that was one of the dumbest things I had ever heard. They seemed surprised. Anyway, they may know all the lyrics ever written by Shakira, or however you spell her name, but they also now can sing a song that goes like this:

It’s the fear of the Lord
That will bring you to life
You can rest, content, untouched by trouble
God’s our fortress and rock
Stands guard over his flock
He’s our shepherd of love.

Not the greatest poetry in the history of Christianity, but when you compare it to the writhing vocalization they are used to I can’t really complain. Also, they know how to pray.

Five
It’s going to be really hot this weekend which is going to be wonderful, but is also going to bring my marriage to the edge of destruction. Why is it that I, who endure the cold all year long, when I am finally relaxed and happy at the decent temperature of 90 degrees, must still justify and plead for this level of comfort to remain from those who enjoy their favorite 63 degrees all year long. I did not die in the winter, nor complain unduly. I put on my socks and my big sweater and my second big sweater and my slippers and my snow coat, and kept them on, inside, for months. Surely you could try to relax and not be so angry about the weather finally being bearable Inside. In other words, we absolutely do not need air conditioning.

Six
The baby, who is not a baby but is actually six years old, has a bad cold. She got in my bed this morning very very very early and kicked me in the back for a long while, and then finally climbed on top of me and berated me for having my back turned to her. How the good parents fall into bad parenting by the sixth one. None of my other children would dream of castigating me about anything. And yet the youngest one is often personal and cutting in her judgement, rebuke, and instruction. It’s appalling.

Seven
And now, if you excuse me, I will go back to reading the Internet. I am going to sit here and wait, with hope, for the temperature to climb up to 80 and then 90, at which point I will be perfectly happy. Go check out more Takes!