Susan Song's Identity

An update from Susan Song

{Note: In the previous entry I referred to Mr. Ginger’s verbosity. He knows me well enough to realize that I meant that in an affectionate way. In fact, I only read his and Bowden’s comments which confirmed my decision to talk to my pastor. I actually suspect that one reason the comments grew smaller over time is because the main points had already been made. Besides, I have been chided on this very blog for my own verbosity.}

We have recently completed the identity portion of the intentional interim process. We divided identity into two parts, church and individual. For church identity we discussed how the church looks to visitors and how we can make the building more attractive and welcoming (a process that will involve power sprayers at some point). For individual identity I gave them a spiritual gift inventory from Lifeway (HT: Bowden) and we went though the various spiritual gifts in the church.

Then we listed and evaluated every ministry and activity that the church is engaged in. This exercise was helpful in determining which ministries/activities were alive and well and which ones we needed to euthanize.

The biggest discussion we had was over the Church’s motto (festooned over the Church sign) which reads “The Little Church with a Big Heart.” I suggested that defines them in a way that might not best. They responded that they like it and it expresses much of what they are proud of in their church. I told them to think about how it would look to a visitor, and encouraged them to revisit the issue later. It is not a battle I’m going to win.

(Although in fairness, it is probably not one I should win. I’m in a great position to tell them how things look to a new visitor, and I expressed to them my reservations, but I suspect the sign will remain long after I’m gone.)

We are now working on denominational connections. I have had a sermon series on Baptist identity (B is for Biblical Authority, A is for Autonomy of the local church, etc) and in the evenings we are going over the Baptist Faith and Message(s). We are looking at both the 2000 and the 1963 and discussing the differences between them. That should take us a few more weeks.

We will also spend a couple of Wednesday evenings looking at our state convention and the Cooperative Program.


This last week, I also had to deal with the question most every intentional interim is asked at some point in the process…

The Conversation

Thanks to all who commented.

Your comments reinforced my general inclination. I went by the church today and discussed my concerns with our pastor. He responded that given our current low attendance in church, he was concerned about using the same people over and over again to do committee work. He wanted some fresh blood on the committees. Since we’re suffering anemic attendance, he thought that it was best to put Bob on the committee. Plus, given Bob’s skill set, he is essential for our church right now.

I then suggested that by his reasoning we should abandon all of the bylaws until attendance picks up. I told him that I have no problem with abandoning the bylaws, but the church should make that decision, not one or two of us. He agreed with this reasoning and then asked if we should ask Bob to wait six months and then put him on the committee. I told him that his suggestion was in line with the bylaws and I would be fine with it. He said that he would suggest that to the Committee on Committees. They have now made the decision to disinvite Bob from the committee.

Part of my hesitation in speaking to my pastor about this issue is that I vowed years ago that I would never be “that guy” in a church who was a thorn in the flesh of the pastor. I think my pastor understands that, but I am wary of endangering our relationship.

It was a tense conversation, but in the end, a good one. I continue to find, to my amazement, that confrontation can be a very good thing. I think that all of you who commented on this blog are well aware of that fact, but it is something that I’m still learning.

Thanks again for the advice. (Did you notice that it got pithier as it progressed from Mr. Ginger’s verbosity to Dave’s slogan-like summary at the end?)

A Bleg

Ok, I need some advice.

The pastor of our home church has requested that a new church member (He’s been a member for 6 months) be on the church finance committee. “Bob” is a great guy and has a finance degree and works for a bank. But this weekend I received a copy of the church by-laws and discovered that they require a person be a member for 12 months before being on this committee.

Nobody ever reads the by-laws and it will not be an issue (I don’t think) when the committees are presented on Wednesday night. The church will accept it without question. The Committee on Committees chairman (who was the only other person to receive a copy of the by-laws) however, was concerned enough to bring it up with the pastor who basically said “It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”So the chairman came to me to ask my advice. Should we ask the church to suspend the requirement in this instance (my choice, but against the pastor’s preference) or simply ignore the issue? Basically, is it worth bucking the pastor to adhere to the by-laws when I don't disagree with the pastor's conclusion (that Bob would work well)?

Friends, lurkers and miscreants what say ye????

It's a Girl!!!!

On July 27, 1995 my life changed forever. On that day I became a father to a daughter. Scooter entered our world and not much of the world has remained the same. In addition to the typical changes I expected: wailing and crying, projectile vomiting, volatile mood swings (and that was me!) I underwent one change that I never expected.

I caught a glimpse of the world through female eyes.

On those evening when I was rocking her to sleep or walking her around the neighborhood, I realized how gender-specific my viewpoints had been. I began to wonder about the larger world and what it has to say to and about women. I began, to take one example, viewing beer commercials a bit differently. I found myself thinking “These women were once someone’s little girl.”

On those occasions when I advise female students, I think about how Scooter and Skeeter will one day be seeking advice and guidance from a professor in college.

I have also become more sensitive to how men talk about their wives, especially in public. Whenever I hear a disparaging or hurtful joke from a husband, I cringe and wonder what is said in private. I think that becoming a father to a daughter has made me a better husband.

It has also affected my preaching. I have often used Mother’s Day as an opportunity to have honest dialogue about the role of women in the New Testament and in the church today. Such conversation is necessary because the church has all too often become a place of difficulty and pain for many women.

Some of my interest has filtered through the blog a bit. The most-searched phrase that has brought people here is “minister’s wives” going back to this entry. I take it as a point of pride that at least one Christian women’s group links to this blog. I also expressed my concern about the view of women by society here.

All of these things are reflected in my concern for Dr. Klouda and her family.

I wish that Dr. Klouda and her husband were not going through this difficult time. But I especially regret that her daughter has to go through this. In the ABP article, Klouda is quoted as saying:

As a mother, Klouda said, she teaches her daughter to “think for herself” and
“look at what God’s Word says in light of herself.” But that doesn’t always
assuage the feelings of the 15-year-old who had to switch schools during her
teens because of the family's move.

“She’s a young person and has her own opinions,” Klouda said. “To her it’s just an injustice. She thinks it’s unfair. She thinks it’s wrong. She thinks this should have not happened. She thinks, ‘They ruined my life too….’” “I just don’t see how the decision was really thought through about the implications for me and my family,” she said. “It was really a decision made on principle, but it didn’t take into consideration many other factors."

Shortly after Scooter’s birth, my Methodist aunt gave me a sweatshirt with the logo from the picture above. She gave it to me, certain I would never wear it because I would find it too offensive. But I’ve worn it with much pride and enjoyment. She thinks it’s subversive, but it actually reflects paternal pride. The greatest gifts I have ever received are my kids and my first two are girls.

Above all, what concerns me about the Klouda affair is what it says about the SBC’s view toward women in general. I do not believe that women should be pastors, but I believe passionately that women will continue to contribute greatly to the cause of Christ long after the last SBC church has closed its doors.

What a Woman Taught Me

The SBC brouhaha over Dr. Sheri Klouda reminded me of the following:


Verna Miller looks like a grandmother.

She has short grey hair, blue eyes and glasses with frames from the 1970’s. She was always one of the dependable folks at Lone Oak Baptist. Mrs. Verna’s home was a good 20 minutes from the church and we would often see her little blue Ford make its way through the Hill Country and out to the church. Her family came from the country and had moved “into town” some thirty years before. But she was loyal to that little church and drove the opposite way of most folks, heading from the town out to the country every Sunday morning and Sunday night.

We had been there a few weeks when I heard someone mention her husband. I was surprised and had assumed that she was a widow. Her husband suffered from back pain and he could never come with her to church. (Although tongues often wagged that he could go out and play a game of dominoes or talk to friends at the local feed store.) But Verna said only positive words about him. She did encourage me to visit them at home which I was honored to do on many occasions.

To be completely honest, the visits were more for her than for him. She asked me to come, but he really didn’t care if I did or not. He wasn’t the most pleasant person around. He was gruff and often told her to get him this or that rather than asked her to do so. But she never failed to show him anything but honor and respect. She simply adored him and I always left their house shaking my head. Frankly I, wondered how he was fortunate enough to marry her???? [Something I’m sure Kadie’s friends often wonder about me too, by the way!]

After we left the church in 2000, I heard that Verna’s husband, never in the best of health, took a turn for the worse. Alzheimer’s began its slow ravaging attack on his personality and his memory. Verna could no longer take care of him at home, but did see that he moved into a comfortable assisted living facility. Some of her fellow church members whispered to me that Verna would be better off after her husband moved out of the house.

But something amazing happened.

Despite the fact that the staff at the nursing home was well equipped to feed and care for her husband, Verna began to go to the home every morning, every afternoon, and every evening. At the cafeteria, she would patiently feed her husband each and every one of his meals. She did this as the Alzheimer’s worsened to the point where he did not even realize who she was anymore. Although she had been a fixture in Lone Oak worship services for decades, she stopped coming to church on Sunday evenings because she was spending the dinner hour with her husband.

She went to the nursing home every day for the next five years of his life.

I have shared Verna’s story on two occasions prior to this post. First, I shared it in a church service at my home church while going through the book of 1 Timothy. When we got to the passage of 1 Timothy 2:11-12 I told Verna’s story. I shared that I was certain, even though we were a state away, that at that same instant on Sunday evening, I knew that Verna was at her husband’s side, feeding him and honoring her vow to him and to God. Verna taught us all something that day.

The second time I shared her story was this last summer when I was asked to return to Lone Oak and conduct her husband’s funeral. I shared her story with her church family and as we lamented her husband’s passing, we celebrated her faithfulness to him. And we also celebrated her faithfulness to Him. Because her husband’s illness lingered, we saw Christ through her life of grace.

I know more of Christ and of His love for us through her sacrificial actions. I know more about what it means to be with someone through sickness and through health because of her actions.

This old woman taught this man a lot.

Sadness at Southwestern

DD asked for my thoughts on the recent actions at SWBTS.

I am a graduate of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. I also worked in the library there and my first child was born about six miles from campus. Some of my deepest and abiding friendships were also birthed there. In our four years there, Kadie and I built a foundation for our marriage that has weathered the stresses and challenges of the subsequent eleven years.

So it is with a heavy heart that I read Wade Burleson’s blog last week detailing the refusal of the Trustees to grant President to submit for tenure, Dr. Sheri Klouda, whose sterling resume far surpasses my own. (See the Dallas Morning News’ article here.)

I would add that Southwestern hasn’t been too kind to Old Testament profs in recent years. In addition to Dr. Klouda, Dr. Scott Langston was another casualty. He wasn't fired, but left voluntarily because of the direction that SWBTS was headed.

Just this last year Dr. Timothy Pierce suddenly disappeared from faculty status under unknown circumstances. I met Dr. Pierce at a conference a few years ago and thought that he was a good man, one who we as Southern Baptists would be proud to have represent us. I note on his faculty web site that he has three kids.

Three thoughts:

1) I was discussing this situation with a friend and commented that it would never be the doctrinal stance of the SBC seminaries that would prevent me from working at any of them, it would be the capricious polity of the organization. Without a willingness to follow stated policy, I would have no desire to work there. In fact, I am less convinced that SWBTS has violated federal labor law, as Wade Burleson thinks, but I do believe that SWBTS will have significant issues with their two accrediting agencies, the Association of Theological Schools and the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools if they did not follow stated policy. These agencies don’t particularly care what your policies are, but they do want you to follow them. If SWBTS refused tenure to Klouda because she is a woman and their written policy doesn't SPECIFY that being a woman is a non-tenureable "offense," then they could be in trouble with their accrediting agencies.

2) Like Dr. Klouda, I too have recently been denied tenure that I felt was unjustified. But unlike her, I was not unjustly denied tenure by an institution that claimed to be Christian.

3) These events remind me of the providence of God. I actually interviewed on two different occasions for two Old Testament positions at Southwestern in the 1990’s. I was deeply disappointed that I did not get the Old Testament job either time I applied.

4) (Added on 1/22) I am operating under the assumption that Wade Burleson's information is correct. I have seen no evidence to contradict my assumption.

But now I am thankful again for unanswered prayers. Keep Dr. Klouda and her family in yours.

Housecleaning

I am finally entering the 20th cenutry and updating to Blogger 2.0. I am currently going through the previous posts and tagging them for the purpose of easier sorting and reading. As if anyone should ever want to either of those two things.

I have no idea how this will affect everyone's feedburners and blog readers, so for the next day or so, just plan on instantly deleting any new posts from me on your blog-readers.

Which is actually what I suspect most of you do anyway...

Martin Luther King, Jr.

In honor of the only Baptist to have a federal holiday named after him, a post on Martin Luther King, Jr. is in order. Each academic term I each a basic philosophy class. In that class we explore four different topics: determinism, ontology, ethics and philosophy of religion. In the section on ethics we read an example of four or five different methodological approaches e.g. utilitarianism, egoism, social contract theory, etc.

98% of my students subscribe to the Divine Command, the ethical perspective that argues God’s commands determine what is moral and what is immoral. We look at the strengths and weaknesses of the theory and then read an example of that theory in action, MLK’s Letter From Birmingham Jail. King’s letter was written in response to a letter from eight Birmingham ministers who asked the reasonable question “How can a minister lead people in activities that are against the law?”

King’s response is remarkable, particularly given the context of its composition. King composed scratched out the letter on toilet paper and newspaper, without access to a library (or even to Google?!). He references the giants of the Christian faith (Augustine, Aquinas, Luther, Bunyan) as well as earlier philosophers (Socrates, Buber). He also quotes from Jefferson and Lincoln.

King also carefully explains how not all laws are just laws. He argues that the church has traditionally stood on the side of the poor and the oppressed, just like the prophets of old. What comes across in this letter is his abiding disappointment in the white church. Its leadership was absent and even in opposition to one of the great moral issues of its day.

Reaction from the students is consistent. Perhaps 10% of the class has read the Letter before taking this class. That includes the African-American students. Some students belie the “soft bigotry of low expectations” when they say something like “I didn’t know he was so intelligent!” But above all they are amazed at the powerful testament to King’s determination to practice non-violent confrontation, a determination King centered firmly on his religious conviction.

King’s actions transformed the South and provide an example of how a prophetic voice can still challenge a corrupt and oppressive society. I commend it for your reading on this cold January evening. It may be found in its entirety here.

Wrestling Injury

Our girls are as different as the constituent parts of an Oreo cookie. Broadly speaking, Scooter possesses empathy in abundance and Skeeter is a little more independent. I’ve mentioned already Scooter’s new experiences this school year riding the bus. When she rides away (it stops right in front of our house) she likes to see us waving and giving her the “I love you” sign with our hands. Skeeter, on the other hand, never looks back once we drop her off at school. She hits the pavement and is focused on school and the rest of us disappear from her little world.

A few days before Christmas, I foolishly agreed to another wrestling night. Things were progressing along well when Skeeter executed a perfectly good axe-kick that caught my extended thumb and drove it straight down towards my wrist. I, like most homo sapiens, possess an opposable thumb--but not in that direction.

I immediately yelped in pain and jumped to my feet. Squealer, not fully understanding what was going on, (or maybe, less charitably, not caring what was going on) immediately began a second attack. I told Squealer that we had to wait a few minutes before Daddy’s hand felt like playing again. Scooter knew that I was hurt and immediately burst into tears because she could see the obvious pain on my face. Even though she had nothing to do with the injury, she could tell that her Daddy was hurt and it caused her to cry.

But as soon as I said “Let’s take a few minutes so that Daddy’s hand will feel better” Squealer, who had actually injured me, shouted “Woo-Hoo! Water break!!” and ran into the kitchen to get a drink.

National De-Lurking Week

This week is National DeLurking Week. There are a couple of you who lurk on this blog and don't ever identify yourselves.

Would you like to say hello in the comments section?



HT: UTC

They'll Publish Anything These Days.....

This book looks particularly boring. I suppose, if one wanted to, that one could purchase a copy here.

I feel like Steve Martin in The Jerk except I would say “The ISBN numbers are here!! The ISBN numbers are here!!!!”

The "Best" of 2006

Here are my favorite family posts of the year!

On Squealer's Cheese Obessions (here and here)

On Skeeter's table manners

On Kadie's mistreatment

On my poor parenting

The sad tale (tail?) of Shrimy's demise

and my favorite:

The case of the Pig Headed Snatchgrabber

December (IV) Old Friends

My brother Bartolo and his bride Bonita stayed with us through the evening of the 26 and we had a wonderful time with them. They had to hurry back because Bartolo had an interview at the Modern Language Association meeting in Philly later that week. He interviewed with a strong private university in the South and we are all excited for him. The kids enjoy their time with aunt and uncle and we all enjoyed the conversation.

The following day (Wednesday) was extremely special. We had a good visit with some old (very ooooolllllddddd) friends.

Way back in 1991, we moved into seminary housing in Ft. Worth. We moved into the ever so stylish BH Carroll Park Housing seen here. The “tour” on the site is amusing. It looks far larger on my computer screen than it was back in the day.

Our apartment was 1/3 of a triplex (the middle third) located on 4045 Sandage Avenue. Living next door to us were another couple named Bruce and Linda. Bruce and I shared seminary studies and Linda and Kadie enjoyed working and putting us through seminary. A big date night for the four of us was a trip to the $1.00 movie theater, followed by all you can eat can stand at either Cici’s Pizza or Pancho’s, ending with some cut throat ping-pong at the R.A.C.

Bruce was responsible for reenergizing my latent baseball obsession and we also cheered on the Cowboys as they hit their Super Bowl stride under Aikman, Irvin, and Smith in 92’ and 93’. Out of season we would also beat up on Mike Ditka Football or Tony LaRussa Baseball. For these reasons (among others) Kadie curses his name to this day.

He finished up seminary a year before I did (he remains by far the brighter of the two of us) and headed down to Baylor University. It was based in part on his encouragement that we applied and were accepted (I think he pulled some strings). They helped us to find a home in Waco and we continued to enjoy each other all over again for another few years.

They have always served as role models for us. They bought a Saturn, we bought a Saturn. They went to Baylor, we went to Baylor. Bruce pastored a small country church, I pastored a small country church. They had two girls, we had two girls (should we have stopped there?). One of the greatest vacations we ever took was with Bruce and Linda up to Banff, Canada back around 1996.

All of that changed in 1999 as Bruce and Linda moved out to teach in a Baptist university on the east coast. It was tough to see them go, but it is a fact of graduate life that all relationships have a four or five year boundary. By the time they moved away, we had been next door or a few blocks away from them for about eight years. Now we see them perhaps once a year for a brief time as they travel back this way to visit family. We’ve gone out there once with them and we hope to do so again this summer.

Bruce and I keep in touch with a monthly phone call or to commiserate about the Rangers or Cowboys. When He and Linda stopped in after Christmas, he traveled out with me to visit Susan Song on a Wednesday night. We continue to miss them. A couple of years ago Linda had a health scare and we thought we would lose her. By God’s grace she’s fine and her scare reminds us again how precious they are to each of us.

One of the special things about our continued friendship is that the next generation is so close. Bruce and Linda came by the Wednesday after Christmas with their beautiful daughters who (in addition to taking after Linda) are right around the age of our own girls. One of the funny things is that although our eldest daughters were toddlers when they moved away, they are still close. For some reason all four of our girls act like life-long friends whenever we are around them. When I told Scooter and Skeeter that they were coming to visit, they began jumping up and down in celebration. They seem like they are closer friends than they should be.

I guess that friendship for each other is etched into their DNA, passed on from both sets of parents.

Congratulations Blacks!!!!

On your seventh anniversary. I trust that you look better today than you did several years ago!

Thank you so much for serving the Lord up in Minot, ND.

A finer couple I've never met.

For more on the Blacks, see Vince's blogs

http://potcallingkettle.blogspot.com/

and the delightful (and slightly subversive)

http://www.christiancheese.blogspot.com/

Ignominy

Unbelievable!!!!!!!!!!

(that's the last time I'll ever feature a Cowboys' player on this site)

December (III)

Christmas morning was wonderful, of course. After hearing Skeeter brag about getting into the living room last year before we got up, I maneuvered our large kitchen island to block off the hallway next to their room. The only way they could get to the den was thorough our bedroom. They were mad as hornets, but waited for us to get ready.

Only Squealer cut through our room and made it into the den. He didn’t go for his presents, rather he headed for the leftover Santa cookies and, ignoring their evidence of Santa’s visit, consumed them immediately.

We then brought in the girls, to the attendant oohs and ahhas. I then read them the nativity account from Luke’s gospel while they acted out the part with Squealer’s Fisher-Price Nativity set (courtesy of PoMonkey and Mr. Ginger). Next year we might just show them the Lego Nativity story.


We all opened our gifts. I received a dozen pairs of socks and now feel very much old. First, because I received the socks, and second, because my first thought was “Gee, what neat socks!!” Kadie also set me up with an MP3 player which will provide the grist for a future blog entry.

Kadie received two pairs of earrings and a necklace. Scooter received, as per her request, a fuzzy pair of boots. Skeeter got blue crocs and assorted clothes. Squealer received a collection of wooden blocks and a tin of Lincoln logs. (When I purchased them, the check-out teenager said “Well, we’re going old school this Christmas aren’t we! Ha Ha Ha”. I struck him with my cane.)

We quickly unwrapped the gifts and then continued to work on lunch. We had over my parents and brother Miguelito, Kadie’s sister PTGirl and our niece. In addition, we had Bartolo and Bonita, my brother and sister-in-law. In addition to all of this family, we also had four people from our church and a coworker from the university who didn’t really have anywhere else to go on Christmas.

This did mean the odd experience of having my worlds collide to some degree. I always wonder, to how Work Taran, Family Taran and Church Taran will interact. But all was well.

December (II)

On Saturday evening Mom and Dad took the three kids to their home and freed up Kadie and me to work on Christmas stuff. The few nights before Christmas are always a challenge to us. We try to prepare ahead so that we don’t have to pull any all nighters on Christmas Eve. And yet in our busyness, I want to guard against giving in to the rank materialism so often associated with the Christmas season. (A great artistic indictment of a materialistic approach to Christmas is the song “Making Christmas” from the remarkable Tim Burton film The Nightmare Before Christmas… available also in either French or Thai).

Christmas Eve morning, unfettered from the kids, was still frenzied. Our home church had no Sunday School and had a service that began at 10:00. Kadie and I sang our trio song again for the call to worship and then we left to drive to Susan Song. Since Kadie was with me (she and the kids stay at our home church) they asked us to sing something. We protested that we didn’t have any song or any music, but they persisted. So we sang our song yet again (as a duet and a cappella). Susan Song loves Kadie very much. (I think a part of it is that they cannot fathom how I ended up with her. They keep hoping that the more time they spend with her, some substantial flaw in her personality will reveal itself. But she keeps her dark side well hidden).

We then returned home to work on Christmas day preparation and finally setting up the last of the gifts. On Christmas eve evening, I went back to Susan Song for a beautiful Lord’s Supper and candle light service. Two problems presented themselves:

First, we had many, many visitors. Everyone brought family and many churches did not meet on Christmas Eve evening. So during the hallowed moments of the Supper, when I should've been reflecting on the depth of Christ's sacrifice for me (as I urged the congregants to do) I instead hastily looked over the Lord's Supper plastic cups of juice to make sure that we had enough. My bowed head belied my frenzied counting.

We did have enough, with one to spare.

The second problem was with footing. The Lord’s Supper was very special but I had never conducted a candle light service before. The timing was a bit off and they turned off the lights before I got off the podium and down to the first pew to share my candle flame with the congregation. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but the front of the podium was lined with the Christmas poinsettias. One misstep and I would be kicking over the purchased remembrance of a departed family member. So with only a small candle, I had to navigate an elusive corridor between a piano, monitor and a small wall. I succeeded without stumbling, but several congregation members told me afterwards that I had been in their prayers.

Following the service I returned home for an hour and arrived at the same time as the kids got home from grandma and grandpa's. We got the kids ready for bed and then put out the cookies for St. Nick. Skeeter insisted on leaving him a note that asked for his autograph and told him that he could only eat the cookies at the back table. She also warned him against getting crumbs on the floor. Finally, she demanded that he save some of the cookies for Mrs. Claus.

She certainly has chutzpah…

December (I)

My vote for the cheesiest line that never fails to bring a lump to my throat:

“Dad, this was the best Christmas ever!!”

Given Scooter’s propensity for sarcasm (which mirrors my own), I was caught up short when she uttered this line. But she meant it. And I think I will have to agree, it was wonderful.

I loved it for the following reasons:

1) We started off December by hosting a Christmas party for our Sunday School class. The Lord has blessed us with a group of friends who challenge us and keep us straight. The fact that they continue to check on me and my family even while I’m gone at Susan Song and Kadie is teaching a youth Sunday School class is genuinely touching.

The normal highlight of the party is the “Mean Santa” game. Shockingly, Kadie suggested we box and wrap a toilet seat, which we had recently replaced in our bathroom. Naturally, I supported her idea.

But the highlight of the party by far was the fact that one of our couples successfully delivered a premature baby during the party. (No, not at the party, she went into the hospital several days before). Mom and baby are doing fine and baby should go home this week after spending the first month of her life in the hospital.

2) The last few weeks of school wrapped up nicely. Finals week and grading passed uneventfully. We had an interesting speaker at graduation, which may have been the most remarkable thing about the entire month.

One amusing conversation occurred during graduation when a colleague said “Taran, I just watched a history channel special on the Gospel of Judas. They mentioned something about Jesus’ brothers. Why haven’t I ever heard that Jesus had siblings??”

“Umm, Bill, it’s because you are Catholic and you believe in the perpetual virginity of Mary.”

“Oh….” replied Bill. It amused me, not only because of the topic, but the setting.

3) We participated in four musicals over the Christmas break. Two with schools and two at church.

Scooter’s middle school presentation went well. Fortunately, they have not banished Christmas songs from her particular school.

Although a little Dave Barry goes a long way, I am reminded of his line

“To avoid offending anybody, the school dropped religion altogether and started
singing about the weather. At my son's school, they now hold the winter program
in February and sing increasingly non-memorable songs such as "Winter
Wonderland," "Frosty the Snowman" and--this is a real song--"Suzy Snowflake,"
all of which is pretty funny because we live in Miami. A visitor from another
planet would assume that the children belonged to the Church of Meteorology.”
Dave Barry in his "Notes on Western Civilization" (Chicago Tribune Magazine,
July 28, 1991)

I am part of the university chorale at our school and we had a winter performance that included the insipid “Feliz Navidad.” The only Christmas song worse than Feliz Navidad is “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” which to my mind is the Christmas version of “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”

(And yes, I am aware of the supposed Christian elements to this song. It still gets old quickly. And I cannot fire up my imagination sufficiently to view Jesus as “a partridge in a pear tree.” )

But I digress.

The girls were each in a Christmas musical at church and had various speaking and solo parts. All the kids all had their lines/songs down cold, but the adults did not. The girls both nailed their lines and their notes.

The adult Christmas program went well. Kadie and I were 2/3 of a trio for one of the songs. It was a Gaither/Southern Gospel twang number that I would not have chosen to download from iTunes. (But you can listen here to “So Much God” if you want to hear for yourself.)

As we listened to the song in the car, Scooter asked at one point “Daddy, are they singing that way on purpose?” “What way?” I asked. “With those funny accents...” she clarified.

(more to come…including a wrestling injury, Christmas gifts, and a pastoral confrontation)