Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

"Hunger Games" and other rites of passage

So our son started reading The Hunger Games a few days ago.  After some pretty heavy lobbying on his part, his Mom and I gave our approval. He'd just finished his fifth or sixth Diary of a Wimpy Kid book.  No signs of injury from the whiplash effect.

There's no manual to let parents know when their kids are ready for stuff like this. For better or for worse, the primary barometer we used was simply what other kids his age were doing.  It's funny how quickly that barometer can change.  Last year I proctored a non-EOG test for a fourth-grade class at my son's school; and when the kids finished nearly all of them, in one fluid motion, put their pencils down and reached into their desk to pull out some permutation of the Suzanne Collins series. Standing at the front of the classroom, it was like looking at a huge mosaic of Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay book covers.  I watched in fascination and thought, wow, how cool they're reading some thought-provoking stuff there.  Some day my son will be ready for that. Some day.

That was April.  This is August.  Four short months.  And suddenly my son is in the fourth grade. 

Sure, it's pretty heavy material, beyond just the violence.  Trying to digest the rudiments of a dystopian society, an unjust world with little redemption, and a ruthless dictator takes a certain level of sophistication.  But I'd rather have my son deal with these issues in the context of a good fictional book; and with me and his mother ready to engage him in conversation and open discussion (which, if you know my son, is certainly forthcoming).

And yeah, I know, it's just the beginning.  The taboo book was merely a launching pad into a slew of pre-adolescent rites of passage. Already he's asked about Facebook and a cell phone.  My wife and I are discussing the parameters for an allowance.  Again, no manual.  Parents are left to their own devices to feel their way through all of this - a parental rite of passage of its own, I'm quickly learning.

It's just so surreal, how fast it's all happening. And the reminders extend beyond my own flesh and blood. Last night we were enjoying a lazy evening at the swimming pool and I went to get a snack.  I rounded the clubhouse and came upon one of my son's classmates; a cool kid with a bubbly personality who always makes me smile.  Except she wasn't standing there in flip-flops sucking on a freeze pop with a Mickey Mouse towel draped over her shoulders, like she was just yesterday.  Or maybe that was three years ago.  No, there she was, driving a golf cart, decked out in spiked shoes and collared shirt. Presumably taking a soda to her father on the back nine, but still.

Every now and then I have this recurring daydream.  It's one where my sons and I sit around the TV on a Sunday afternoon and digest the Panthers pass protection and talk about how many years Cam Newton has left.  Or we check out the latest super hero movie - Avengers 6, we'll call it - and laugh at how it was just like all the others.  Or the four of us feel the collective surge of adrenaline in the arena at a U2 or Green Day or Switchfoot concert.  Or my wife and I suffer through six agonizing summer days without as much as a text or phone call from the boys as they relish in their newfound independence with the youth group at a week-long Montreat Youth Conference.  Or brochures for institutions of higher education start showing up in our mailbox, and they're not addressed to me.

It all seems so incredibly far off, until I realize: it's so much closer than I could possibly imagine. 

Sweet Jesus, what I'd give for that manual.

Big Mama's gift

I got a book today.  But I didn't order it off Amazon or buy it from the local bookstore.  I didn't check it out from the library.  I didn't even download it to my iPad.  Today I got a book, wrapped up all nice and neat, from someone who has been dead for a year.

There is a family in our town that I've gotten to know over the years - they belong to another Presbyterian church in town; an African-American church.  They have welcomed me into their lives as their de-facto minister of sorts, given the fact that they do not have one of their own.  I'm most grateful for this.  Like a lot of small churches, it is comprised of just a few families covering many generations.  A year ago today, one of the church's matriarchs passed away.  She was in her 90's.  Her name was Gladys, but everyone around here knew her as "Big Mama."

Yesterday I received an invitation in the mail for what the family called a "floating celebration of remembrance."  It was at Big Mama's house, now occupied by a daughter and granddaughter.  I went there and mixed and mingled with a couple dozen other family members and friends.  Ate some cake, had a cup of coffee.  We talked about our lives, our families, what was keeping us busy.  And we talked about Big Mama, of course.  She was there with us too.

Her presence was most obvious to me, though, as I got up to leave.  It came in the form of a wrapped present.  I had seen them in a pile beside the door when I first walked in, and in a moment of panic wondered if I had neglected to bring a gift that was mentioned in the invitation.  No, I was told, this was not a gift I was to bring.  This was a gift for me.  From Big Mama.  See, Big Mama was an avid reader during her 90-plus years, compiling a nifty little library of mostly inspirational books.  Since her death a year earlier the family had found homes for most of them, but not all.  So they wrapped what was left and gave them to people as they left this floating celebration of remembrance. A book from Big Mama for everyone.

I walked out the front door with this random book wrapped in random wrapping paper.  And while I was curious about what book it was, I was more captivated by the thought: Big Mama, one year after her death, had given me a book!  I was told it was very likely that there would be notes written in there; sentences highlighted that she thought were of some value.  Maybe a bookmark or two.  Maybe a dedication on the opening page from whoever gave it to her in the first place; someone who, like me, had appreciated the way she had touched their life and wanted to thank her for it.

And that's when I understood that the gift really wasn't the book.  It was - it had always been - her life.  Anyone's life.  The book was just a symbol of that gift.  So when I took the wrapping paper off and started thumbing through the pages, seeing the notes and bookmarks, I wasn't really thinking about the book at all.  I was thinking about a person and the fact that, even in death, she was still giving herself to me, still giving to so many. 

That's something we all have the ability to do, you know - in the way we live our lives and how we touch others and how we try to make this world just a little bit better than the way we found it.  The greatest gift we can ever give to others is ourselves.  As Big Mama showed me most profoundly, that is the true gift that keeps on giving.

I know you want to know what the book is.  For the record, it's Max Lucado's When God Whispers Your Name.  I think I heard God whispering to me today.  I'll try to pay attention more often.

Z-packs, Facebook pages, getting published and sabbatical hammocks

In a nutshell, that describes my first full week of sabbatical.  Sure, the first official week was back at the beginning of the month, spent with the family at Disney World (you can experience it for yourself in this previous post via tweets, if you like).  But in many ways that felt like nothing more than a standard vacation week.  The real odd sensation was coming back from that trip and not having to go to work the following day.  That's when the full effect of the sabbatical began to hit.

Unfortunately, what also hit soon upon my return was a nasty sinus infection.  All the wonderful symptoms started to rear their ugly head around Monday - mostly head congestion and a general desire to do absolutely nothing.  Thankfully I got to the doctor for a nifty z-pack prescription.  And while the sick bug plagued me for most of the week, I started to feel noticeably better by Thursday.  So thankfully it wasn't a totally lost week.  Which is good, because already I'm sensing that these three months are going to fly by.

Around the middle of the week I mustered up enough energy in my sickly state to create a Facebook page for my new CD, whose back-story you can read about here.  I must admit that the end of this project has kind of snuck up on me - since the CD's debut will be at the June Massanetta Middle School Conferences, there's a fixed date I have to deal with - it's not like I can put it off or anything.  And the time between then and now, hard as it is to believe, is quickly shrinking.  Already my producer, Doug Davis, and I are beginning to feel the heat and have scheduled what looks to be a marathon mixing session tomorrow night (thank goodness it's only five songs we're having to work with).

But back to the Facebook page - I figured this would be the quickest way to get the word out about the CD and keep people informed of its progress and the general public release sometime in early July.  It was also a chance to show off the hot-off-the-presses artwork.  The first is a nifty creation by local art store owner Sara Ann Butner, whose husband happens to be one of my landlords at the music space I've rented during the sabbatical (I need to do a blog on that space, by the way.  I'll try and do that this week).  I dig the artsy earth for sure.

The second one was done by a youth in my church, Maggie Mills, whose artistic endeavors (visual and musical) I've admired for many years.  I asked her to include a lot of feet and hands in the artwork, given that it's part of the project's title; and as you'll see she did not disappoint.  I like the title she gave it: "Explosion."

Anyway, both of these will find their way into the CD packaging, as well as come with any downloads from CD Baby or itunes when they're available.  And of course I'd be more than happy (elated, in fact), if you saw fit to join the Facebook page titled "Feet & Hands & Stuff" and invited lots of others to do the same.  Actually, I believe the official lingo is "like the page," but that just doesn't sound right. Whatever it is you do, please do it.  The more the merrier.

What else?  Oh yeah, getting published.  We've got a neat lady in our little town named Wanda Urbanska - you may have heard of her through her syndicated TV show on PBS titled "Simple Living."  Wanda is a strong proponent of Mount Airy and an author as well; and back about eight months ago she asked me to write a small piece for a new book she was working on.  The subject: simplifying your wedding.  Which was kind of funny, since my wedding was anything but ("This is what happens when you marry a minister," I had to keep telling my then-fiancee).

But I have seen a different side of weddings as an officiant and an occasional wedding musician.  So I thought I was up to the task and could come up with 700 or so helpful words (that's the number Wanda gave me to work with).  Back in the fall Wanda took a sabbatical of her own and moved back to her native Poland to finish the book.  I kind of forgot about it, until this past week when she left a message on my Facebook wall telling me she was home, the book was out, and that my contribution had made the cut.  If you're interested you can check the book out for yourself here and read my piece on pgs. 231-232.  And while you're at it, read the other 251 pages too.

One last thing: the hammock.  You know, it's funny - I had to plan out a fair amount of stuff in preparation for this sabbatical.  But the idea of a hammock never crossed my mind.  I remember having a hammock as a kid growing up in Raleigh - I always loved the thing, but for some reason I never got one of my own.  That may have something to do with the fact that I've not always lived in a location that lent itself to decent hammock-installation.  Here in Mount Airy, though, our house is surrounded by trees.  So I found a good pair underneath a canopy of pines and maples that shield the sun.

Of course I installed it with tree straps and not hooks drilled into the tree itself - silly you should even ask.  I haven't used it much yet, just now getting over the sick thing.  But I promise you, I will. Very soon. Except not right now, because it's storming outside.

(P.S. If you subscribe to this blog in RSS feed or email format and got a strange blog post from me early this morning, please accept my apologies.  If you're wondering, this is what happens when you accidentally hit the "Invite All My Friends to Facebook" button and have your blog email in your address book.)

Talk about a hefty overdue fee....

Once again, NPR comes through when I'm driving home from work, and I get to hear this story.

Here's the skinny: there was a book that was taken in 1864 from the Washington & Lee University Library in Lexington, VA (back when it was called Washington College) by a Union soldier during the Civil War.  Apparently he mistakenly thought it was another school, one where he had checkout privileges.  The book, understandably, was never returned.  Instead it was passed down from generation to generation, until it wound up in the hands of Mike Dau, who eventually learned of the book's history and decided it was time for it to go home.  So this past week it was finally returned to the library - 145 years overdue.

The book, for the record, is History of the War in the Peninsula and in the South of France From the Year 1807 to the Year 1814 by W.F.P. Napier.  Long title.  It was actually the first of a four-volume work.  Now, after almost a century and half, the set is complete again.

The dude who returned it said he was grateful the library waived the late fee.  I imagine so!  I wonder how big it would've been if they actually added it up?  One shudders at the thought.

Hearing this reminded me of something a friend once shared with me - he swears it's true.  He was in the process of moving into a new home - I think it was after he graduated from college.  As he was unpacking boxes he came upon some children's book that he had checked out from his local library when he was eight years old.  He was now 23.  Somehow it had gotten so mixed in with the rest of his stuff that he'd totally forgotten about it all those years.  So he calls the library back in his home city to tell them what had happened, and to get a mailing address so he can send it back to them.  He figures that'd be the end of it.

Not so fast.

The librarian asks him to hold on for a minute, and he starts hearing the sound of an adding machine in the background.  He's hearing this for quite a while.  When she gets back on the phone, she tells him he can send a cashier's check with the book for the overdue fee.  He almost chokes on his own chuckle.  He asks her if she's serious.  She tells him she is.  He asks her how much.  She reads off a number that has five digits, all to the left of the decimal point.  I believe that's when he hung up and found the library address online.  The book is now back in the hands of its rightful owner, sans check.

I'm not even sure if libraries enforce overdue fines anymore, do they?  Guess we all can be grateful for the grace.  Even so, I think I'll go check the boxes up in the attic.  You know, just in case.

My eldest's A to Z

On a short break from my Louisville conference last week, the rental car (a minivan - poetic justice, I guess) found its way to a cool little strip area with some eclectic restaurants and shops, one of which was a book store.  This would be the place where I would secure the proverbial "family gifts" that any parent traveling on business must have in their possession upon returning home.  I had called home to check in a few hours before, and as my wife handed the phone to our eldest his first words were not "Hey Daddy!" or "I miss you Daddy" but "Do you have our surprises yet?"  Nothing like a subtle hint.

So I found what I needed in this neat independent bookstore - even something for myself.  I got a copy of The Watchmen graphic novel - always heard about it; never read it, want to see the movie.  The Mrs. got this book, and our younger this one.  For our eldest, though, I struggled a bit.  The guy already has tons of books and any that I got him would just get lost in the shuffle by the end of the week.  I did think about some Captain Underpants book, as this has been all the rage at our house recently.  But I wasn't sure which ones he already had.  Plus, the bookstore didn't have any.

I wound up settling on a nice spiral notebook with 250 colored pages, primarily because the eldest has become a vociferous writer at the tender age of six. You should've seen the look on his face when I pulled it out of the suitcase - priceless!  He wasted no time in going to work.  Already he has filled most of it with stories (that bear a striking resemblance to Captain Underpants, I might add), song lyrics, various Dr. Seuss things, and some drawings. 

 One of the notebook's recent additions is what he calls his A to Z.  I think there's a Dr. Seuss book out there along these lines, but I'm not sure.  In it he lists various things in alphabetical order, one per page, with accompanying pictures.  There are even some rhymes in there.  Now I fully realize I'm playing the worn-out "proud parent bragging on their kid" part, so I promise you I won't do this too much.  But I thought some of these were pretty clever.  Here goes:

*****************

MY A TO Z BOOK

A is for alligator

B is for ball

C is for chicken (the picture here is not of an actual chicken, but chicken nuggets.  Organic and free range, I'm sure.  And easier to draw.)

D is for doll (notice the rhyme with "ball?"  Not the last...)

E is for Elephant (spelled "elaght")

F is for fall (more rhyming)

G is for go (picture of a "GO" sign here - square and green.  Never seen one before, but why not?)

H is for hall (rhyming again...)

I is for insect (the picture here is labeled "life cycle" and shows a caterpillar turning into a butterfly.  "Life Cycle?"  Where'd that come from?)

J is for jump

K is for kite

L is for lump (he was searching for a rhyme for "jump" - not too shabby)

M is for moon

N is for nine

O is for "oh no" (no doubt he's heard this out of Mom & Dad's mouth before...)

P is for pine (new rhyme!)

Q is for quiz (where'd this come from??)

R is for rat-a-tat-tatt (the drummer shining forth)

S is for see

T is for t-t-tat-t-t-tat (he tells me this is the sound a hi-hat on a drumset makes.  The boy knows his musical instruments)

U is for up

V is for vacuum cleaner (which, by the way, really needs to be run in our house.  Maybe that's why he brought it up.)

W is for wet

X is for Zorx (apparently this is in a Captain Underpants book.  Figures.  And who can blame him for not thinking of a word that begins with X.  Other than Xylophone, can you?)

Y is for yo-yo

AND....

Z IS FOR ZOO

*****************

Not too bad for a six-year old, eh?  We're proud.  Looks like the travel gift choice was a rousing success.  Now on to that vacuuming.....

"The Great Emergence" - the church's next 500-year rummage sale

I'm a bit of a sucker for rummage sales.  I may not stop at every one, but I definitely slow down to see what's available.  Usually it's an overused couch, a box of baby clothes, secondhand toys.  Every once in a while I may luck out and find a decent CD collection or some good books.

So I was slightly surprised when, in her book The Great Emergence, author Phyllis Tickle describes the grand transition that worldwide Christianity is currently going through as a rummage sale.  Not exactly the image one would expect, is it?  Most folks will readily admit that Christianity in general is undergoing some kind of change, and therefore changing those who are part of it.  Some have chosen to understand this as the effects of mass consumerism, the decline of modernism, or an increasingly apathetic culture.

In a sense, they're all correct.  But there's much more to it than that.  And that's what Tickle's book helps to conceptualize, in large part through a sweeping overview of Christian history.  Every 500 years, Tickle observes, the church undergoes what she refers to as a "massive rummage sale" where the church "cleans out its attic."  Meaning, the church goes through a transformation that changes both the agent of change in the church, and those resisting the change. Five hundred years ago was an obvious one - the Reformation, symbolized most prominently by Martin Luther nailing the 95 Theses to the church door in Wittenberg in 1517.  Roughly 500 years before that came the Great Schism, where the Eastern church split from Rome.  Go back another 500 years and you find Pope Gregory the Great, who Tickle argues saved Christianity by instituting the monastic movement which served to preserve the tenets of the faith during the Dark Ages ("held in trust" is how Tickle puts it).  And roughly 500 years before that....well, you-know-who came onto the scene and set the whole thing in motion.

Whew.  A lot to cover for sure.  The point Tickle makes with her book is that we are currently in the midst of another 500-year rummage sale (as the math alone attests to).  None of these, of course, are instantaneous events - they take place and evolve over many years.  Nor do most people, when in the midst of these times of transformation, recognize that they are in such.  It is only after the fact, with history in our rearview mirror, that we see it for what it is.

Tickle's book is an attempt to help the reader recognize the rummage sale we're currently experiencing and where it may lead us in in the future.  It's a great way to get a bird's-eye view of what's happening on the larger Christian stage.  And this is a hard thing for Western Christians to do, for a couple of reasons.  One, we tend to believe that our Christianity is the world's Christianity, not recognizing the fact that the church is growing at a much more rapid pace in places like Latin America, Asia and especially Africa (which is interesting, because by defintion it then makes North America a "mission field" - perhaps a subject for a future blog).  It's also a challenge for us to see the "big picture" because so much of our energy in the American church is directed at maintaining its institutionality - what color the drapes are, whether we'll be able to make budget for the coming year, how many folks have signed up for the youth ski trip.

In this blogger's humble opinion, Tickle does a fine job with what she sets out to do.  She doesn't offer any sweeping reform, nor does she spend a lot of time plotting out the future (which would be my temptation).  One of the things that really amazed me about the book is how she is able to cram so much into a mere 161 pages.  Her sweeping recount of church history, and how it ties in with the 500-year rummage sale theory, more than adequately covers the essentials without leaving you feeling shortchanged.  This book could've easily been twice as long - but there's little "fluff" in it.  It says what it needs to in the fewest words possible and then moves on.  For that reason, you do have to stay on your toes and pay attention, lest you miss something.

Tickle's writing style is not hard to follow, but I will say that it is different from any other writer I've experienced in recent memory.  Again, you have to pay attention along the way.  And she is prone to moments of rhetorical excess, like the very last sentence of the book where she speaks of the current emerging church: "The cub has grown into the young lion; and now is the hour of his roaring."  Umm, okaaay.....

Still, The Great Emergence is a must-read for anyone who wants to get a feel for what is happening with Christianity these days; and how many of the "changes" we're encountering are not only inevitable but in many ways are necessary and should be embraced and celebrated.  There has been much written and blogged about this book, and I imagine the conversation will only continue.  I think it's a conversation worth our time.

Which is why I imagine the book about rummage sales will not be found at real rummage sales anytime soon.