Today, Tristan started writing letters. He's quite good, especially considering it was the first time I've seen him just focus on that. He can do O, Q, D, I, T, L, H, and A. It seems like quite the assortment, but this is how he learned to recognize letters, too, so it's all a process. He's got almost 1/3 of the alphabet, though, which is quite impressive, if you ask me.
Lucy is crazy. She has been leaping and bounding out of baby-hood and into toddler-hood. She's already more little girl than baby, and she keeps pushing forward. She's really trying to talk, too. "Momma, Da-da (dada or Duder?), Ba-ba (big brother or papa?), Ba-beeeee, brrrrr." She's quite vocal. She's also very into whatever Tristan is doing. Most of the time, this works out well enough, but once in a while, he gets a 2yo streak in him or she gets a sassy streak, and then there's some conflict. Nothing serious, though. They rarely need more than fifteen or twenty seconds to resolve their differences. And when it takes longer, it's usually an indication of an impending naptime/bedtime.
We took the kids to the pool, which they loved. They had the best time and now want to go back. It's considerably less warm today than it's been lately, but I think the plan is to hit up the pool after naptime anyway. Then Julie will go to capo and I'll keep the kids busy for a couple hours. Should be a good time.
I'd like to go for a run today, and I'm not sure if it's going to happen. I'm not feeling particularly close to 100%, but I also think the run could help that along, so we'll see. Maybe once this post is done. I suppose even a short run is better than none at all.
Some thoughts:
We need one of two things to happen with regards to our living situation. Option 1 (which would really be preferred) is for our neighbors to quit smoking. The smell pulls into our place, and worst of all, it's the most pronounced in the kids' rooms. It's disgusting and selfish, and I don't understand why one couldn't just smoke outside if one decided to smoke in the first place. Ridiculous. Option 2 (which looks to be the more likely) is to find a new place to live. Now, we like our place a lot, we like the location, and we like the conveniences and what have you. We have found another place that we actually like more (and it would cost less), but we have to get out of our lease first, and that seems to be the most problematic part. There's a lot up in the air right now, and that's always a potential source of angst, though it shouldn't actually lead there too soon. We'll just have to keep praying and see what's in store for us.
I'm getting a new computer from school for the sake of research. This means I'll have to ramp up the programming part of my research again soon, but that's good (sometimes it sure beats just reading theory). I'm actually quite excited about this, mostly because this will bring results I can actually see.
Qualifiers are in ~2 months, maybe a little later. That should be interesting.
The question, "What does it mean to be a Christian?" is one that is intended to be thought-provoking and meditative. It would be a nice question to pose to someone, then discuss with them a week or so later so that they've had some time to formulate some ideas. If you want to tell someone you disagree with them and what they do, but have no intention of a conversation, make a statement, don't ask a question. Questions call for a response. While I'm on this road already, here are a couple things about this... Outside of the essentials, there is no one Way to be a Christian. Love God, love Jesus, and love each other as we have been loved. Beyond that, ... It's interesting, really. At Mars, we've been going through the book of Acts, and the last few weeks have been about what it meant for people a couple thousand years ago to belong to one religious group or another, and what was required. How I love God will most certainly look different from how you love God. How I love my neighbor looks different from how you love your neighbor. If we can so quickly accept that anger/sadness/happiness/fear/regret/excitement looks different from one person to the next, why is it so difficult to accept that love would do the same? Why do we institutionalize? The last thing Jesus came to do was start another religion. Jesus is not about drawing a circle around oneself and instructing others as to how to enter. He calls us to support one another and help one another stay true, but he does not call us to judge one another. He does, however, call us to share His love with others, and that's awfully hard to do from inside a circle. As Don Everts put it,
Jesus was a man with dirty feet. He spent most of these three years walking around with people.
He invited folks to become his intimate followers.
Everywhere he went, great crowds gathered around to listen to him, to be with him, to see what he would do next.
As Jesus led his twelve closest followers they would walk along the dirt roads together.
They went to parties together. They ate meals together. They worked together. Jesus walked as a human among humans, brushed elbows with politicians and outcasts, went to parties with
sinners and criminals, and embraced as his own family those he met on the street.
Jesus floated on no pristine clouds.
Jesus was no aloof elitist.
Jesus was no odd hermit.
He preferred the world of dirt and friends and handshakes.
He embraced this relational life on earth more passionately than anyone ever had.
This doesn't sound like someone who wanted to separate and alienate; this sounds like someone who wanted to love. Reaching out to one another and sharing this love is not something we should be doing out of a sense of obligation. We share because we want to, because we need to, because there's just too much beauty and truth and love to keep for ourselves, and if we don't share it with others, we'll be too overwhelmed to do anything else. God's love is like the rain, not like a watering can. We do not choose specific discretized locations to pour some water and leave other locations dry. The rain falls on everyone indiscriminately. And if you look around, what do you see? People carry umbrellas, hold newspapers over their heads, run for cover, do all they can to stay dry. We don't want to have to dry ourselves off and change and go back to our day. Why have we forgotten how to be children, and to run out in the rain and hold our hands up and play in the mud? Why is it that children know that when they're soaking wet and their clothes are plastered to their bodies and the only thing that hasn't been washed off of them is a smile that's altogether too big for their little faces, that the only appropriate thing to do - the only natural thing to do - is to wrap their arms around you and drag you out into the rain so you can enjoy it with them? When do we forget this? How do we get it back? There's a great Bob Marley line:
"Some people feel the rain, others just get wet."
