Modern Chantry

Center of The Storm- A Heavenly Call to Action

2010-07-24T10:43:00.005-05:00

It's time. Over the past couple of years my family has faced many changes and I have allowed myself very little writing, but the Spirit cries out and finally I have had the sense to answer with Samuel, "Speak Lord, I am listening." In order to make it easy on myself I am beginning by posting some things published in The Belton Journal in the spring of 2007, before the recession and the housing market collapse, and the bailouts and the government takeover of our banks and auto industry and even before Cap and Trade was written, and we had Czars in the white house and cries of racism and socialism on the streets. How strange to think what has changed, and how quickly, and yet I find that the things I wrote them continue to be largely relevant today. People are people, God is God and so the World only spins but never changes course. How comforting, and how constant. No matter how bad it gets, it is always coming round to a new day under the watchful eye of a loving God.

The heavy air hangs around me like a quilt and I am enveloped in its wet warmth. The brilliant green grass is a sponge beneath my bare feet and from the thick grey sky a wet hand reaches down and veils my upturned face, its fingers run over my cheeks in streams, through my hair it becomes a river, down my neck a flood, and I am drenched. The splat of each drop on the rooftops, street and sidewalk run together into a kind of roaring symphony, while the forgiving earth absorbs its share silently and fragrantly. I look down at my son, his round face peeking out from the garish yellow towel in which I’ve wrapped him. At just over a year old he is normally 25 pounds of wiggle, but now he is perfectly still in my arms, captivated as I am captivated by this baptism of rain. Being out at this moment is not an accident, the southern Oregon rain calls to me, beginning with a gentle voice and rising in urgency with every exploding drop. Today I have succumbed, and here I am, white legs glowing beneath faded shorts, sodden T-shirt stuck to my back, and dark hair in slick disarray. Rooted at the center of my small lawn I am the only person visible in the long corridor of pastel townhomes, a spectacle for my neighbors, soaked through and staring into the sky.

I have never seen rain like this. It mesmerizes me. The rain of my childhood was constant and drizzly. Damp and cool in the summer, cold and slushy in the winter, the air was in a constant state of wet, each tiny drop permanently suspended like the beads in a hippy bead curtain. This rain is different, the giant drops plunging unprovoked from an irate sky. On and on it chastises the earth, nagging and ranting until slowly its’ rage is spent and calm restored. I admire this petulant sky and its’ unwarranted passions, and am comforted by its’ unabashed display. A natural coward I have long since learned to bury deep all such brazenness in myself. I do not advertise my beliefs. I do not defend my point of view. I do not incite, ignite or offend. A chronically pale blue sky above a tepidly correct world, I sustain and refresh nothing.

Refusing to storm, I have inflicted parched calm on my little world. Mindlessly proud of the unworn banks of my dry creek beds I did not notice their irrelevance. I have mimicked peace without accomplishing it. Steadfastly choosing stagnant tranquility over fruitful discord I did not see that suppression is the lying twin of peace.

Today is different. The sky above my new Texas home is nearly shattered by thunder. The fervor of this storm makes those of Oregon seem a toddler’s tantrum in comparison. The heavens will be heard. I open all the doors and windows, layering the sills and entryways with towels to protect the wood, then curl into the couch to enjoy the gusting wet vehemence of natures passion. The phone rings, a dear friend from my old home. “You sound really happy,” she says.

“Do I?” I pause, considering the source of my joy. “That’s because it’s raining.”

And Would I?- Iran stands up

2009-06-20T22:47:00.008-05:00

And would I ?
I, who have sometimes been put off of WORDS by the disapproval of my friends, family, countrymen . . .
Would I, for these same principles, enter the streets to face violence and perhaps death?
Would I wittingly awake, bathe, dress, eat and exit the peace of my house to stand for peace outside of it?
Would I?
And what of my children?
Should I bring them with me to face the bloody glory of inalienable rights?
Or leave them home, to the unknown of what may become of any of us?

And isn’t that the larger question anyway?

And wouldn’t I be the answer?

Would I?

Would I give all for the freedom I may not live to see, on the thin hope that someone else would?Would I stand for Freedom in order to stand under it, or would I take shelter under my oppressors fist?

Would I?

Peace be to Iran.
To Israel.
To America.
And all the world.
May the love of God fall like rain on all His children, and may He lend His strength to all those who fight the The Good Fight.

We see your tweets, your cell phone images and the fact that now more than ever you are made in the image of God. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

Thank you,
Kursten Schwarz

Why (should God) have Children?

2008-08-11T11:04:00.007-05:00

Over at Conversion Diary Jen has posted a portion of an email she received from a reader, and invited comments to address the question.

The question posed is:

"...Why would God create humans for the sole purpose of knowing, loving, and serving him? Why would any creature, great or small do such a thing other than out of narcissism or loneliness? Why does God need us to know, love, and serve him?"

Basically, why would God create people?
I was interested in the post at the time I read it, but it faded from my mind as I went about my other 37,908,123,984,698,170,918,730,983,097 daily tasks.

Later on, as I drifted off to sleep, it wriggled it’s way out to the front of my thoughts and I remembered this short piece I had written years ago when one of my children was a newborn. Thus far it has done nothing but hang around on my computer’s hard drive, and while it does not directly address the question, I think the answer is clearly there.

In God’s Image

Because she chose not to have children, complained the woman in the magazine editorial, people assumed that she was selfish. But why have children?

Others responded to this question with things like, “to have someone to love and be loved by”, or “to carry on the family name”. These were weak and selfish reasons, she concluded, and in an overpopulated world she was the principled one.

Why have children?

I pondered that letter for years, mulling over the deceptively simple question with every successive pregnancy. Why have children? After all, what really is in it for me? They take all of the time, money, and attention that I might otherwise devote to myself. They’re messy. They break my things. They keep me up at night and wipe their noses on my shirt. Why have children?

In the gentle evening light, as I linger over my still infant son, the answer softly reveals itself. I love him just for existing. Not for what he had done or might do. Not even for the character or personality that had yet to be fully revealed. Lying in my arms he has nothing to offer me, yet I love him boundlessly simply because he is.

God reveals to us that we are made in His image. This gift gives us many clues into the nature of the Holy One. As a child emulates in play the work of the mother and the father, so God has made us like Him that we might better understand His desires and His nature. We were brought into existence not because of anything we can do for God, but because the very nature of love is creative. God has issued an invitation to participate in the miraculous act of creation, providing a shadowy picture of how we came to be, and why, and what He feels for us.

This chaotic din, the never-ending need for drinks and snacks and trips to the bathroom, the stains in the carpet, the crayon on the wall, and the mixture of gladness and frustration when a diapered bottom clambers laboriously into my bed at 3 AM, these are not the result of an instinct that tells me to perpetuate the species nor is it because of some unconscious desire to live forever or to carry on my (husbands’) family’s name.

I chose all of this in response to a call I did not know I heard. An invitation to echo words sung out in the beginning. I have children because they are the tangible product of the love and creativity that exists within me, players in a living parable, created, as I am created, in God’s image.

As I write this, several comments have been posted over on the Conversion Diary site. I was interested to find that many people gave answers very similar to this post.
What say you? I would love to hear.

America- Action heroes battle toe fungus in the pursuit of happiness

2008-08-07T11:31:00.001-05:00

It all started in the shower.

Pasted against the far wall, I was performing my daily cost benefit analysis of whether rinsing my hair was worth venturing into the schizophrenic temperatures that stream forth from our shower head, when I began a soapy eyed surveillance of all the products I keep in there.

Shampoo for me, shampoo for him, other shampoo for me. Conditioner, Face soap, body wash, shaving cream , pink pouffy net thing, and razor.

Surrounded by the evidence of my daily efforts to “fix” myself put me in mind of those incessant drug commercials on TV. If Hollywood isn’t trying to drug me better they’re trying to Nutrasystem me thinner, and it occurred to my wet soapy self how much America is a place of ACTION.

It began with three boats of people willing to think outside the British box, survived revolutionary and civil war and has resulted in the most ambitious and altruistic nation on earth in this age. Our single-minded pursuit of happiness has earned us a reputation as the most hope laden and humane nation on the planet. Problem solving is our history and has become our legacy.

In the past, this reverence for solution has led to great advances in standards of living, the progression of liberties and rich invention in technologies and processes.

But what is it doing for us today?

What are we, the fixit nation, improving now?

And how come the first thing that comes to mind is toe fungus?

I think we’ve gotten off track.
Reaching the place of actively seeking whiter teeth seems to me a perfect dual symbol of our great success and our vast failure. We have succeeded so well in what we set out to do that we are overflowing with the success. So full is our cup that even the poorest among us, citizen, immigrant and prisoner alike, drink justice choice, and freedom. In addition to this wealth of human dignity we enjoy the fruits of abundant food, comfortable homes, attractive serviceable clothing, etc . . . in short we have gone beyond dignity, to achieve comfort and pleasure for the vast majority of our residents.

The value we place on the accomplishment of this standard of living is everywhere obvious.
We achieved happy. We like happy. We want more happy.

All of this makes me want to kiss the ground with gratitude over being born in this particular time and location on the planet.
But perhaps we have been deceived.

Blissful human existence was laboriously achieved through work and sacrifice, but the success itself negates the perceived value of that sacrifice. Pleasure disdains pain, and so the closer we get to the goal, the further we get from the ability to reach it. Sacrifice has been our greatest strength in our best accomplishments. Without it we are destined to achieve only the least relevant and meaningful of successes.

Granite countertops and 3 car garage! Longer stronger hair!

Because we continue to strive, because we appeared to be doing what we always have, because we continue to prosper, we seem to be succeeding, and have therefore stopped ourselves short of real success.

A Scoop of Hope- Just one more way ice cream is making the world a better place

2008-07-29T19:46:00.008-05:00

Some have visions, others dreams. I have ice cream.

I was in the grocery store with my daughters, an event that can only ever end in a treat, when my oldest spotted it:
Ben and Jerry’s “ONE Cheesecake Brownie” ice cream.

That’s right, I said it.
Cheesecake AND brownies, in ICE CREAM.

These guys are pure genius.

I was all prepared to act nonchalant, maybe hang out by the generic guar gum variety treats, pretend like I was more interested in frugality and economy than pure creamy ecstasy, when I saw it,
the bold little label that says, “make poverty history.”

Make poverty history by eating Cheesecake Brownie ice cream?!
Only in America.
Wow, I love America.

It came home with me where I made poverty history all by myself, tucked into the corner of the couch while I watched the news.
I didn’t share.

If you would like to join me in bettering the world one scoop at a time, here is a website that’s more informative.

If you don’t much care for informative websites, but like making poverty history by eating ice cream, I assure you, this flavor is an exceedingly pleasant way to better the world.

If you don’t like ice cream, cheesecake or brownies please leave a comment.
I will pray for you.

But whatever you do, please do something to make poverty history.

All ice cream aside, it has been on my heart lately to look for ways to help others. I know from experience that poverty or even just "tight times" can lead to a cycle of discouragement which perpetuates.
Please consider how you can connect with others to bring emotional, spiritual and physical help and encouragement.
It doesn't have to be a big deal on your end to count as a big deal to the one who recieves.

Christians, let the Spirit in you do His work.
You know that we ARE our brother's keeper.

a good place to start Big Oak Ranch

With God Alone- a mini autobiography

2008-07-27T08:51:00.002-05:00

Last week I decided to step even further out of my comfort zone and try something new. I’ve been keeping notes on other blogs that appeal to me visually and I wanted to try changing my template up to three columns. So I spent a little time reading and checking out the blogger help places, and when I thought I had a handle on things I downloaded the new template and made the switch.

Disaster!

It looked terrible, and worse, I lost a bunch of stuff that I really liked, like my blog roll. I was so irritated that I changed it back the next morning and then just ignored the thing for a little while.

But it had to be fixed, so I got up my gumption, did a little more reading, and tried again. I was happier this time with the result, and I spent the next couple of days experimenting with it.
That’s when I checked my counter.

No traffic.

Starting this blog was a step out for me. I have always been a writer, and I know with certainty that (much of) my purpose on this earth is to write. For years I have lived in fear of it. I knew that’s what I was supposed to be doing,
but, what if, somehow, I was wrong?
What if I was no good?
What if I had nothing to say?
What if I said something wrong?
What if I offended someone?
What if?

What if it really was my purpose, my potential, . . . and I failed?

Nearly two years ago God uprooted my family and I from southern Oregon where my husband and I had lived most of our adult lives, and brought us to Texas. Shortly after our arrival a unpredictable string of events kept my husband traveling with his career for nearly a year. My children and I spent that year in a place we had never been before. We were all in love with the culture and the beauty of it, but we were also alone, working and waiting for the new town to become a home.

During that time a potentially devastating issue arose seemingly from nowhere, and I had a choice. I could be victim of strange circumstance, and my own fear, or I could fight my attacker. In the past, I had allowed stresses and strains to beat me into a place of submission, it had become my habit to permit circumstance to rule over me. But a new home and a new life had given me a new perspective, and I spent months fighting what I would simply have succumbed to 5 states back.

The courage that I had traded away, Esau like, returned to me resurrected in the very hand of God.

In this renewed Spirit I called the local newspaper and asked if they would consider publishing a freelance piece, “ a kind of, um, a family life piece, but with a greater point. Uh, but not really a moral”

Nervous stammering notwithstanding, they said they would take a look. They published all three pieces I submitted to them that spring, and the last I gave them in the fall.

It had been a year and finally we had found a church, the kids were really settling in and my Mr. was supposed to be home soon.

We were in the grocery store, when my cell phone rang. Me and five smallish kids clogging the aisle in our attempt to dig only the fall colored taffy out of the bin.

“Hi, honey what’s (shhhh! It’s daddy!) going on?”

“First of all, everything’s okay, and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“What?!”

Forget fall colored taffy, we were moving to Missouri.

During the 16 months that we lived in Texas I was certain that God had brought us there. For the entire time I looked for the reason, the Great Act that was going to occur. I was aware, during my short stint as a cowgirl, that God was speaking to my heart about the devastation of fear, and also renewing my courage. But it wasn’t until now, 8 months into life in Missouri, and a month and half into writing this blog that I begin to understand a little about Why Texas.

The Great Act was me. The change that that place and time, under those circumstances, wrought in me, freshly equipped me to do my work. It was so simply and perfectly done that I nearly overlooked it. But the signature is clearly Christ’s. The Great Act was done where He nearly always performs His miracles, in a person. Texas is nothing to a God who has traveled and secured the path between life and death just to perform this miracle in the past.

So now, slowly, I have begun writing. Blogging. Waking from the pounding of my own heart into the bedclothes. Wondering whether everything I said was exactly accurate. Meaningful. Right.
Worrying, agonizing, typing, deleting.

And then no traffic.

On the third day, I let it go.
I decided that I knew what I was supposed to be doing, and God knew what He was supposed to be doing, and I was going to keep forward even in the face of this strange new discouragement.
The pride was eliminated, and with it much fear. I would write because God told me to write, and the rest was strangely insignificant.

On the fourth day I got up and checked the counter. Still no-one.
As my husband got ready to leave for the day I commented to him about it.
“Well, did you lose your code?” he asked

“My code?”

“Yeah. The code, for the analytics. When you changed your template did you erase the code for the counter?”

Oooops.
You were there all along.

And I am absolutely delighted. Still . . .
16 months and three days (seemingly) alone with God have brought me such blessings.
I write it for you.

But I’d write it without you too.

A "Life Set Apart for God"- Zoei Isabelle

2008-07-22T14:05:00.004-05:00

Please watch Zoei say The Lords Prayer as it was meant to be said.
I imagine that few things bring God more pleasure than this
video . . .

Honey on Their lips- bringing a New Song to America's darkest souls

2008-07-18T10:41:00.002-05:00

We have always sung to our children.

When our oldest was an infant I would put him to sleep by rocking and crooning long awkward melodies that were spur of the moment love songs. I sang to him and his sister in the car when either one of them cried, and when they were not much bigger I sang bible stories and nursery rhymes to them when I put them to bed.

As the children grew, and as there got to be more of them, they would often sing their own little love songs to me. Or God. Or themselves.

Recently, I was participating in a Beth Moore Bible study on the Psalms of Ascents and something she said in the video really stuck with me. She suggested that music is the natural language of the soul.

I’ve been thinking about that.

Sometimes when I pray “right”, meaning NOT a halting, tired prayer said from the depths of my pillow, but a kneeling, thoughtful, heartfelt address, I have an urge to sing.I am not blessed with the gift of song. My pitch tends to sway drunkenly, and I have no ability to hear myself with any perspective.

Karaoke terrifies me.

Still, there’s something natural and freeing about really belting it out with a good CD, or spilling over in a devoted song of love.

This idea is a jumping off point for many others, the obvious being that if music is the natural language of the soul, where does that leave the gangsta rap type stuff?I’m not talking about a certain style, sound or beat. I’m talking about a certain lyric.You know the ones I mean.

Some have claimed that these are poetry, a “real” reflection of an American subculture.You’ll forgive me when I say, So?

There are certain things that happen in the bathroom that represent the stark reality of what I had for dinner, but I’m not selling the stuff. Some things are just flush worthy.

The real issue is the soul issue. What is the state of the soul that makes lyrics like these, and how can we help?

Unmoderated tolerance has brought death to our society in so many ways. We’re not doing anyone any favors by calling their pain, addictions, and victimization “poetry”.America and particularly Christian America need to put a new song on the lips of their oppressed and hopeless by bringing light and life to their souls. A “culture of life” goes far beyond eliminating abortion.

It’s much easier to stand up and rant about the immorality of this music and its makers than it is to defeat the real despair that it reflects.

Sometimes Christians forget that church isn’t just about fellowship potlucks. Sometimes we forget that it isn’t really about our “spiritual growth”. Sometimes we forget God is Real, the Deed is Done, and spiritual growth comes from telling people that.

The gospel.

Simple enough for a child. Sweet enough for a song.
Honey on my lips.

Sackcloth and Ashes-A Patriotic Israel Weeps

2008-07-16T10:52:00.008-05:00

In July of 2006 two young Israeli soldiers were abducted in a cross border raid by Hezbollah. My heart heavy with empathy, I watched as the new wife of Ehud Goldwasser pleaded with the enemy to return her husband.

“Karnit, who married Ehud 10 months before his capture . . . (Traveled) the world and (made) thousands of phone calls to try to win her husband's release. Last fall, she even cornered Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and then-Lebanese President Émile Lahoud at United Nations headquarters in New York, to no avail.”

Carolynne Wheeler
Globe and Mail

Today that woman’s hope has been brought to her in a coffin. Hezbollah has exchanged two dead Israeli bodies for 199 of their own, plus 4 live prisoners and a monster.

As Israel weeps, Hezbollah gathers to welcome the Beast. Upon Kantar’s arrival he would have found a little altar to himself, a homemade stage bearing two signs. One reads “Israel is shedding tears of pain”, the other “Lebanon is shedding tears of joy.”

“An official ceremony was to follow at Beirut Airport with Lebanon's president, prime minister and parliament speaker in attendance. Nasrallah was to address what is expected to be a huge celebration at the group's stronghold south of Beirut.

In the Gaza Strip, controlled by the violently anti-Israel Hamas group, people celebrated in the streets and handed out sweets in support of Hezbollah.

"Today is a great victory for the resistance movements and to Hezbollah," said Hamas spokesman Sami Abu Zuhri. "It shows that the only successful way to free the prisoners is by kidnapping soldiers." (emphasis mine)

Aron Heller
Associated Press

Here in America, I see yard signs and bumpers stickers with the phrase, “Peace is Patriotic.”

What does that even mean? That Israel should weep today, and America join her tomorrow? Rational people must be willing to recognise that not all people are. There are some for whom the murder of our children, and the desecration of our joy is called victory.
The Associated Press article continues:

“Kantar and three other gunmen made their way in a rubber dinghy from Lebanon to the sleepy Israeli coastal town of Nahariya, five miles south of the border. There, they killed a policeman who stumbled upon them, then burst into the apartment of Danny Haran, herding him and his 4-year-old daughter out of the house at gunpoint to the beach below, where they were killed.”
“Haran's wife, Smadar, who had fled into a crawl space in the family apartment with her 2-year-old daughter, accidentally smothered the child with her hand while trying to stifle her cries.”

This is their war hero, one who comes in the night to murder the innocent. In comparison, Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev stood on the border of their country, in an attempt to defend her from such attacks.

Israel has long refused to negotiate deals such as this.

“Putting aside decades of resistance and breaking what had been a long-held taboo, Israel's Cabinet gave final approval Tuesday to free Kantar.”

(Aron Heller, Associated Press)

But in a desperate attempt to appease their conviction to leave no man behind they have bent their principles, and as a result the enemy rejoices.

“In Lebanon, the deal's approval was celebrated as proof of Hezbollah's strength.“What happened in the prisoners issue is a proof that the word of the resistance is the most faithful, strongest and supreme,” the Hezbollah-sponsored al-Manar television quoted its executive council chief, Hashem Safieddine, as saying.”

(Carolynne Wheeler, Globe and Mail)

“It shows that the only successful way to free the prisoners is by kidnapping soldiers." . . .

If peace is patriotic, there will soon be no patriots left alive.

There is much to fight, much to defend, much to say . . . but today I weep with Israel.

Copyright-and Wrong

2008-07-14T19:26:00.007-05:00

A long time ago when Debbie Gibson and I were young, I used to spend a lot of time making “mixed tapes.” This was a painstaking progression that involved careful rewind- listen-rewind-listen-fast forward a little-listen-skills for every song that went on to the cassette. Once you had the thing cued you had to listen to the entire chosen song and hit the stop! button before the next began. This was a tedious and wonderful process that, between the choosing and recording of songs, and the careful decorating of the cardboard insert that went in the case, could take days. The finished item was sometimes for oneself, but more often a gift bestowed on a BFF or current crush. The largest dangers to this process were short attention span, (oh shoot! I forgot to hit stop!) and bothersome little sisters.

By the time Debbie Gibson and I were passe so was this favorite pastime. CD’s had replaced the simple and beloved cassette tapes and players of my heyday. My husband, in another of a long stream of attempts to get me interested in the internet, introduced me to something called Napster. He showed me how I could share my music with others, and allow them to share theirs with me. We had a great time with this new version of mixed tapes. It was the first time since that long ago cassette recorder that technology allowed me to have a mix of different artists in one place. The CD’s and CD players of my college years forced you to buy an entire album, or single of something. But there was no really inexpensive and easyish way to combine your favorite tracks to create something personal. For months we rocked to the kindness of strangers.

Then it turned out to be illegal.

Back to the music of our limited budget.

For years our lives played out unaccompanied by a soundtrack. We rarely had money to spend on CD’s and when we splurged it always felt like a bit of a letdown. A friend talked about spending hundreds of dollars on an MP3 player for her teenage son at Christmas time, but I wasn’t completely sure what that was. Over a year later I had it figured it out, and I knew I wanted one . . . but at two or three hundred dollars I couldn’t afford it. Several months later I got an excited call from my husband who was in Kansas City at a work conference; he had won an MP3 player in a drawing . . . and he was waiting to give it to me. He could scarcely wait to tear it out of the package when he arrived home. As he downloaded the software onto our beastly computer, I played with the gadget. All set! Time to download some music!

The site recommended by the device brand was deplorable. We nearly gave up. My husband wandered off but I was more obstinate. Walmart.com, Hallelujiah! We bought 20 or 30 dollars worth of our favorite music at 88 cents apiece. We let the kids choose some. We listened to 30 seconds worth of things we weren’t familiar with and took our chances. It was a holiday. For months while my husband left me in an unfamiliar town while he traveled the countryside with his career, I downloaded music that became the soundtrack to my new life. The price went from 88 cents to 98 cents, but I wasn’t swayed. A dollar a song was a bargain for a personalized recording. Where else would you find Christian Aguilera, Tim McGraw and Toby Mac together? The music was truly ours.

The kids were jealous. I was a bit greedy and they wanted their own. A sale that perfectly coincided with our tax return resulted in two 50 dollar additions to our MP3 family. I was adamant about the brand, wanting to make it as easy as possible. Surely all one brand would share software and make music purchasing easier. Ha.

The software was different. Songs from CD’s we owned could only be recorded onto a certain number of devices a certain number of times. Some of the songs we had purchased online stopped playing altogether, and when we tried to “reload” the same songs onto the players the software was convinced we were stealing from ourselves and wouldn’t let us. What was fun and simple became a frustrating disappointment. By the time we moved to Missouri a year later we were playing CD’s burned from the downloads, rather than mess with the previously coveted MP3 players.

The silence returned. My husband showed me a personalized online radio station, but Pandora chose for me based on the sameness of what I like, when what I really enjoyed about my music was the variety. Not a hit. Then, one boring day, I noticed an ad on my DSL provider home page. Embarq music, ten dollars a month, endless downloads. We decided to give it a try. The previous joy of musical choice returned to us, we downloaded everything. We were Too Sexy for our shirts, dancing like the Hammer girls belting it out with Julia Hough and That Song in My (her) Head. We were so enthused we decided to put the music on our MP3 players.

Double Ha.

One of them accepted all of this new programming with grace. The next wanted nothing to do with it. My Mr. wasted a Saturday afternoon and a lifetime of sighs searching for the remedy. He updated software, downloaded songs and grimaced over the similar stories of others downtrodden by the music industry to no avail. The devices we purchased would not accept the music because they were not embedded with the correct tools to know when it was time for the music we downloaded to stop playing.

The music would stop playing? What?
Turns out that ten dollars a month is for music within that month. When you stop paying, the music stops playing.

So now we have six MP3’s four of one top brand and two cheapies, also a music subscription that provides music that cannot be played on all 6 devices. Even if it could, only a certain number of players could have the same song, otherwise the software becomes convinced that thievery is afoot. This means that songs popular with everyone in the family have to be fought over, that is, if the players download it in the first place . . . This is the musical paradise technology and the music industry have brought us to? Silence, again?

Could somebody please make me a mixed tape?

Lucky-Winning the lottery again today

2008-07-08T21:43:00.007-05:00

God put a nail in my tire.

I was on my way home from the grocery with my loot of apple cider, a couple of frozen pizzas and a box of brown sugar pop tarts when the front right tire started to make that ominous thumping sound. Approximately half a mile from home, I pulled over on the narrow residential street and checked it out, sure enough, flat tire. As this is the tire that has required extra attention for months in the way of air refills I was more resigned then surprised.

Called my husband who was anxiously awaiting the for-promised pop tarts in order that he could put our kids to bed. Called 1800kia to get a tire guy to work his tire magic. Then passed the time in the repetitive act of assuring concerned passing motorists that I really was fine and I really had help coming. Really.

Tire guy came and asked what the problem was.
“It’s had a slow leak, I explained,” “I think it finally just bit the dust.”

As I stood on a stranger's lawn and watched my help carefully replace the flat with a spare, we made small talk about his son’s military service. Pulling the tire off, he interrupted our polite conversation with a surprised, “There’s your problem!”

“Where?” I said, leaning over his shoulder and trying to look interested in auto parts.

“There!” he replied triumphantly, “You got a nail in your tire!”

“Oh!” I said too eagerly, delighted that he was pointing to a problem I could comprehend. “Well, that’s not a slow leak is it?”

He continued his work and I my awkward watch, until, finishing up, he lifted the punctured tire to place it in my trunk. With a look of surprise, he quickly set it down again. “Look at that,” he murmured running his finger gently along one edge. The place he traced was paper thin and looked the way scraped skin does. Not a gash or a cut, but a dotted line of tiny abrasions that had barely broken through.

“You were very lucky,” he said somberly, “If you had been out on the boulevard going 70 in this heat, that tire would have blown. You’d have been lucky to survive.”

Lucky.

In the last week I have twice heard the phrase “a tax on stupidity” to describe the lottery. Perhaps this is a common phrase that I have somehow missed. I don’t play the lottery on the basis that it just doesn’t seem likely enough that the investment would pay. But I found myself thinking, on the few blocks home, about the lottery and the odds of winning, and how that relates to life and the odds we face everyday.

I would love to have a statistic, a writ in stone fact of how many people get nails in their tires on busy streets not near construction. I would love to know how likely it was, by pure mathematical odds, that I would get a nail in mine today. And I wonder about all the other statistics I face daily. The traffic accident that I’m two cars behind, the sled that went under a chain link fence with my five year old clinging to it, and the resulting pair of cuts that ran exactly on either side of his eye . . . Life’s lottery, what are the statistics for every event? What is the likelihood by their sum that I should have been so blessed?

I had been a little irritated earlier as I waited on the side of the road. I was low on gas, bored and sweaty. But as I reassured my husband over the phone I found myself thankful. At least it wasn’t on the boulevard where it would have been harder to pull over safely. At least I didn’t have the kids with me. At least it wasn’t dark out, or in the heat of midday . . .

On my own volition, and in the right frame of mind, I could recognise some of the blessing. But it took someone with different knowledge than mine to show me what I certainly would have missed on my own.

God put a nail in my tire and saved me.
I will live to die another day.

But He did so much more than that.

God put a nail in Christ and saved me.
And I will live forever.

Lucky.

Someone said to me the other day that God is the God of timing. If you’re here, reading this post now, perhaps it’s a good time to let the nails in Christ’s hands give you eternal life?
I hope so.

God of Freedom-The American Version

2008-07-07T10:27:00.004-05:00

Something kept ringing in my head this last weekend, and it wasn’t the peals of liberty. It was Barack Obama’s voice saying, “Whose version of Christianity should we use?”
It’s haunting me .

The Senator’s point was that we cannot allow tenants of any one religion to dictate the law of the land, a precept with which I mostly agree. But “version of Christianity”? Whoa.

Christianity is a religion going back thousands of years, and in that time there have been splits within the church. Martin Luther, for instance, believed that the church had gotten off-course in interfering as an intermediary between God and the individual. This radical idea ultimately resulted in Protestantism the most major of theological splits in the Holy Church. Protestantism has since split into theological factions itself and there are now various denominations within the body of Christians. The denominations might have differences in worship style, and even theology regarding such things as end-times or what happens during communion, and ultimately some of these beliefs must be proven right and some proven wrong. Still, the foundation of all of these is the same, as the God of all of these is the same.

Christ. God’s only begotten Son, who willingly lived as a man and was sacrificed at the hands of men in order to save all who believe.

When that question rings in my mind, “WHOSE version of Christianity. . .”

The answer, Senator, is God’s version.

Unless you believe that matters of state will at some point come down to a vote by the people as to whether, once ingested, the communion host literally turns into the body of Christ, or that we may somehow need, as a country, to all come to agreement as to whether infant baptism is or is not desirable or necessary, then we Christians can pretty much agree.

The killing of infants is always wrong. The Christian God is a God of life.

The oppression of any people is wrong. The Christian God is a God of liberty.

Charity and respect are always right. The Christian God is the God of happiness.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident , that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights . . .”

If you’re looking for the version of Christianity that’s right for America, Mr. Obama. You might try starting here.

(Aren't we all?)- Smarter than Nancy Pelosi

2008-07-01T10:57:00.016-05:00

I’m exhausted with the sense of it all. Each click of each key, tedious. I can get riled up, passionate and vocal when there’s something to press through, a clashing of ideas and ideals.
But how do you fight just plain dumb?

The outrageous and barely comprehensible lack of common sense being exhibited by the Nancy Pelosi end of the Democratic party makes me want to shake my head and walk away.

In 1969 the Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of the Fairness Doctrine when a journalist sued a radio broadcaster after the journalist was attacked on the broadcasters show. The journalist, Fred J. Cook argued that he should be allowed equal time, for free, to defend himself. When applied to the press, similar laws had been called unconstitutional, but because there are a limited number of airwaves, the court ruled in favor of “Fairness” on the radio. However a wikipedia entry states that:

The Court warned that if the doctrine ever restrained speech, then its constitutionality should be reconsidered.

And

that the doctrine "inescapably dampens the vigor and limits the variety of public debate."

In 1984, the Supreme Court decided that the scarcity rationale underlying the doctrine did not apply to expanding communications technologies, and that the doctrine was limiting the breadth of public debate . . . The Court's majority decision by William J. Brennan Jr. noted concerns that the Fairness Doctrine was "chilling speech," and added that the Supreme Court would be "forced" to revisit the constitutionality of the doctrine if it did have "the net effect of reducing rather than enhancing speech."

In a 1987 case . . . the courts declared that Congress did not mandate the doctrine and the FCC did not have to continue to enforce it.

In August 1987, the FCC abolished the doctrine by a 4-0 vote, in the Syracuse Peace Council decision. The FCC stated, "the intrusion by government into the content of programming occasioned by the enforcement of [the Fairness Doctrine] restricts the journalistic freedom of broadcasters ... [and] actually inhibits the presentation of controversial issues of public importance to the detriment of the public and the degradation of the editorial prerogative of broadcast journalists," and suggested that, due to the many media voices in the marketplace, the doctrine be deemed unconstitutional.

Thus the Fairness Doctrine, which was on shaky constitutional ground anyway, was abolished in favor of free speech. Nancy Pelosi is not happy.

Talk radio is dominated by conservatives, this is because talk radio audiences are dominated by people who like to listen to conservatives. Liberal talk radio shows (Air America) failed because conservative audiences dominate talk radio and those audiences didn’t want to listen to liberal shows.

Nancy Pelosi, and her caucus think it’s unfair that liberals don’t listen to talk radio so they are trying to pass a law which would force all registered democrats to listen to liberal talk radio shows in the same numbers and for the same time that conservatives are listening, in order that Air America can have another go, and this time it will be fair. JUST KIDDING. Nancy Pelosi is advocating something much more stupid.

Nancy Pelosi is advocating a return of The Fairness Doctrine.

The Speaker of the House, Senator Kerry and some others on the far loon wing of the Democratic party are upset that radio stations are catering to their audience, and they want to force them to devote equal time to things that recent history has proven no-one wants to hear. The justification for this forced “fairness” is that airwaves are a limited government resource and should not be disproportionately given to one point of view or another. Of course this doesn’t take into account the “duh” factor, which is that if liberals wanted to listen to talk radio they would.

So they don‘t want to listen to the thing, they just want to talk on it. But why? Other than narcissism, what is the benefit to this group of forcing themselves onto the air? Radio stations, without listeners for their new programming, will go broke and no-one will get to play on the radio. Ah ha. For the liberals, the benefit of a renewed Fairness Doctrine is that the people's voice for conscience and common sense in America will be effectively silenced on the air.

So, failing liberal talk shows equal failing radio stations equal no radio stations equal silence.

And if you wonder why any political power in a free society would actively advocate and work toward silencing the people, congratulations! You’re smarter than Nancy Pelosi.

Please sign this petition put out by the Media Research Center to let congress know that you do not want a return of The Fairness Doctrine.

Ignorance or lies- Obama cashes in on God

2008-06-24T20:49:00.010-05:00

It troubles me. You would expect Christian Conservatives to be hyperventilating with excitement over having a presidential candidate who has called himself a Christian for 20 plus years. How is it that a man who is nothing but forthright about his religious views, and who even speaks repeatedly on his website, in books, in speeches and from the pulpit about his Christianity, how is it that Barack Obama has not been able to convince the majority of the religious right that he is their guy?

I spent a good portion of my day looking for the answer. I googled, I read, I highlighted, I waged battle with my printer, and then read some more. The commentators and the comments on the commentators. The references to Rev. Wright and James Dobson. The conspiracy-theorists who claim he’s a Muslim (he’s not). The people who really, really hate him, and the people who hate the haters. It’s all there. And in the end, with my sheaf of printouts all crinkled and smudged and my brain wholly overloaded I had two utterly differing answers.

A week or so back a New York Times Opinion article caught my attention. In his piece, “The Two Obamas” David Brooks lists Obama’s political history and ends with the assertion that Barack Obama is “the most effectively political creature we’ve seen in decades”. Similarly, Protein Wisdom has posted a fascinating in-depth article summarizing Barack’s political history and “accomplishments” thus far, the resolution of which leaves the reader very little choice but to concede to Obama’s frightening combination of inexperience, and stop-at-nothing political ambitions.

This is worst case scenario, that Obama is a liar and a compelling political snake who recognizes that there is power to be gained by winning over the Christian community and taking their votes to the ballot box.

But what if it’s not about political ambition, or not entirely? What if Barack Obama is a sincerely religious man with audacious hope, a Christian who desires change for Americans and America? Should his fellow churchgoers give him the benefit of the doubt and the rule of the country?

The excerpt from Obama’s new book, “The Faith of Barack Obama”, posted on Time.com features rhythmic pleasant prose, a persuasive and confident tone and several key phrases that enlighten the reader as to the form of Christianity that Barack Obama claims to currently espouse. In it Obama says about abortion:

“I explained my belief that few women made the decision to terminate a pregnancy casually; that any pregnant woman felt the full force of the moral issues involved and wrestled with her confidence when making that decision.”

His conversion:

“I felt God’s Spirit beckoning me. I submitted myself to his will and dedicated myself to discovering His truth.”

And his questions about death and creation:

“I thought of Sasha asking me once what happened when we die . . . I wondered whether I should have told her the truth, that I wasn’t sure what happens when we die, any more than I was sure of where the soul resides or what existed before the Big Bang.”

The man who “felt God’s Spirit beckoning him” may be saved, and may even be in relationship with Christ, but he is a long way from grasping the theology, history, and practices of that faith. If his statements reflect his beliefs they mark him as being woefully ignorant of biblical teaching, and worse, of the power and character of the God he serves. While this spiritual immaturity is common to many, it is a sorry representation of a Glorious Truth. It is frustrating and sad for me to see how a Christian of his long tenure could still be in the infantile spiritual state that Barack exposes himself in. Christianity is a word with a definition, and there are tenants which one must accept in order to be a part. The philosophy he reveals in this excerpt, and elsewhere, rely on a delicate strand of compassion to connect it to those tenants.

This is the best case scenario, that Barack Obama is as ignorant, over-spoken and inexperienced in his faith as he is in his career.

Christian Conservatives may choose to vote for Barack Obama in the fall, but it should not be on the basis of shared faith.

Gay in America- a short history of American culture eroded

2008-06-19T12:24:00.008-05:00

I spent this morning reading the most delightful blog. "Rocks In My Dryer" is full of wit and charm and family life and all of the things that I live and breathe daily. After a time of reading and laughing and calling my oldest children in and reading aloud to them . . . I sat back in my chair and I sighed.

I worried that MY blog, which is NOT funny nor delightful, and which reflects only a finite portion of my daily life, might be too frustrated, too frantic, too fierce in tone. I thought about ditching the whole thing and starting over with other things, family life pieces and gentle encouragements. So I opened Modern Chantry up and read last nights post. Revising a little here and there, opening links, reading articles and worrying about how this blog might define me, and whether I am right or just right wing.

But as I read the articles written by others, the reality of what this alteration to marriage means to America and its families came flying at me, and I could be nothing but frustrated, frantic and fierce.

The world is not stagnant, friends. I know that. It moves forward with every breath of every person who has ever been. And I have always thought it foolish to paddle upstream. I am arrogant enough to believe I speak for many conservatives when I say that we are not trying to hold back the current, we are simply trying to direct where it should go.

Homosexuality is wrong. As is gossip, lying, cheating, stealing, etc. Some sin is blatantly self evident: you may NOT hit your brother, call your mother a nasty name, or shoot the person who cut you off in traffic. But some sin is more insidious, and the harm it brings less immediately obvious.

People who choose a homosexual lifestyle should be afforded the right to privacy in their own homes. What they do in their bedrooms is their business, and affects no-one but them. . . But it left the bedroom and made its way out onto the street where other people were marginally effected. These people may have had to deal with witnessing acts that they were uncomfortable with, or explaining things to their children that they didn't WANT to explain to their children. It began to get convoluted, the rights of one group infringing upon the rights of the other. Both certain that their rights were more righteous, each equally sure that they were getting the short end of the stick. So, the gay community rallied, and they began to define themselves as an oppressed minority equal to the black community (never mind that it would have been far less practical for that ethnic group to keep their African-Americanness confined to the privacy of their homes. Or that differences in skin pigmentation is hardly an agreed upon taboo cutting across centuries, cultures and religions.) The redefining began. New words were invented to describe those who wanted the sexual adventures of others to remain private. "Homophobe". A word rooted in fear. A label and an insult mocking the worries of those who did not want to ride this wave. People who disagreed were in a virtual dodge ball game, ducking and weaving to avoid the barrage of new and redefined words. Intolerant! Bigot! Right-wing!

Hollywood, America’s sexual shrine jumped on it. There were sitcoms and movies and reality shows and talk shows which brought magazine articles and newspaper articles and wrapped the whole mess in one giant rainbow-colored bow. And the thing became hip. The thing, which was once the simplistic and private question of how and whom people have sex with became a cultural icon. And everybody wanted it. Everybody except those who still saw it for what it was. A sin, like any other sin, but with a current fierce enough to erode an entire history. So now, gays have decided they want marriage. They’ve decided that people have “the inalienable right to marriage.” They would not be happy with all of the commodities, legal rights and privileges of the thing. They had to have the word itself, and this week they got it. What else will they want?

This is not about love. You do not need a cultural revolution to love.

This is not about sex. People have been reinventing sex since forever.

This is not about oppression. The gay subculture is not being subjugated in America.

This is about exhibitionism, control and justification.
By bringing their sexual activities into the public realm gays have forced everyone to witness and then judge (vote on) their choices, and in that sense, to participate. They have divided America in order to have an army at their backs, and to feel that they are a part of some group. This is a story about reassurance. And humanism. And sin. It is a story about the lengths people will go to to justify their actions, and to feel that they are accepted and loved. This is about taking an entire culture hostage in order to accomplish those things. And it is about the failure of the remnant to understand what they have lost until it is too late.

I do not write here, about family life. I do not share the numerous humorous events of my day. I don’t talk about pets, and kids, and fashion. This is not because I think myself above these trifles, but because there is very little more sacred to me than these things. The Spirit in me dictates that I address the other issues, matters of politics, religion and culture in order that we may protect the sacred trifles, the real stuff of human life.

This is a short PS to encourage any of you stirred by this subject to check the links in the previous post. This decision by California's judges is only the beginning of radical change in America.

Redefining America- activist judges purloin marriage

2008-06-18T19:47:00.021-05:00

It’s just a word.

We’ve seen “bad” come to mean “good”, and “cool” change to mean “awesome”, and “awesome” transform into something less than it once was . . . But still, it’s just a word, and if it has had the meaning knocked out of it so what? At least it’s in good company.

Marriage, which was once a sacred institution between a man and a woman, has been redefined by 4 judges in the state of California as when Party A and Party B agree to mutual dependence.

Don’t redefine me a homophobe. I’m not. I have much less to fear from gay people than I do activist judges. Still, they took my word, and I can’t understand why. There were so many other words to choose from, and endless possibilities for creating their own.

But they wanted mine.

A television sound bite of the revelers showed one man referring to the change as “equality in marriage”.

Equality.

It’s so interesting isn’t it? The infantile fear that if we don’t all have the same thing it won’t be fair. Did anyone consider the possibility of different but equivalent? Did anyone consider the fact that, for many, this word is a sacred word, and that its alteration might diminish it for those who esteemed it as it was? Did any one consider the fairness factor in that? Did anyone consider polygamy? Incest? Bestiality? Did any one consider?

Words are the basest form of communication. The elements, if you will. What we say and how we say it is the only way we have to express who we are as individuals, and as a nation. Changing our words is the beginning of changing our culture.
The homosexual society knows this and they are rejoicing.
But isn’t it interesting, isn’t is telling, that that community didn’t choose just to add something new. Instead they insisted on taking something away.

2008-06-13T20:51:00.000-05:00

Friends,
this is a quick post to let you know that I am considering the comments posted here, as well as a new article I'd like to put up, but I am just timed out. This weekend we are celebrating a birthday, as well as fathers day and have family coming in from WAY out of town, and I have simply run out of time.

Also, a simple note about Tim Russert (who died today of a heart attack):
Mr. Russert was the first news anchor to make an impression on me. I went from "must see TV" to NBC news where I watched Russert because he was so serious, passionate and smart and because he always looked like "there was no place he'd rather be". I watch him wave his white board around into the wee hours of the night during the infamous 2000 elections, and I wanted to be him.
I can't pretend to know anything whatsoever about the man or his religious beliefs, only the impression he left with me. Tonight I pray for Mr. Russert, and genuinely hope to someday meet up with him in heaven where I will tell him how much I enjoyed and admired his work. By the grace of God I hope to do my work as well and as joyfully as he did, and to leave as inspiring an example on others as Mr. Russert did on me.
My prayers are with Mr. Russert's family and friends, and with any in need of comfort today because of his death.

Obama in the church- liberals follow the Christians home

2008-06-11T09:14:00.003-05:00

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that we are supposed to have a separation between church and state.
So what the heck is Obama doing distributing letters to churches, "intended to be read during church services, highlighting the senator's Christian beliefs." Hey, maybe the result of spending 20 years under a "pastor" like the infamous Rev. Wright, has given Obama the erronious impression that ALL Christian parishoners spend their Sunday mornings being indoctrinated into the political stances of their church leaders.
Look, I am the first to admit that the line between religion and politics is slender indeed, as both subjects utterly define what the holders of those beliefs want and expect out of life. (As I have made abundantly clear in a prior post on this site) HOWEVER, though the line be slender it does exist. We know this, in part because of the unrelenting cry by the far left to maintain, and indeed, widen the schism between church and state. No "moment of silence" in schools! No classroom reading of the bible (arguably the greatest work of literature ever)! No display of the ten commandments on public grounds. (commandments shared by three of the great religions: Christians, Muslims and Jews)
What is it that they keep saying about the Iraq war? We are fighting them over there so that they won't follow us home? Looks like we'd better win THAT war or we're gonna be down two for two. Conservatives lost the battle of the church in America's shared spaces, and now liberals are following us home.

Ignorance of the elite- what do sophisticates have to fear from the Christian?

2008-06-10T07:52:00.002-05:00

When I consider the way in which Christianity is refuted by non-believers I am fascinated by the ignorance with which otherwise intelligent people respond to Christianity. It is my experience both as a former secularist, and as a now devout believer that Christianity is viewed by secularists at-large to consist of a narrow set of laws which not only bind the actions of the faithful, but worse, constrict their judgements such that they are "narrow minded". It is the accusation of these tolerant and sophisticated people, that Christians would tie the world if they could, and force them to . . . what? This is where it breaks down for me. What is it that secularists believe that Christians would do to the world if they could? Is this a gay marriage fight? Abortion? Sex outside of marriage? Would the Christians stop people from swearing? Oppose violent entertainment? Take away drugs? . . . I honestly don't know. The only thing I can come up with is that people are afraid that Christians will TAKE AWAY THEIR FUN. Huh.

I have heard, and said, tremendously stupid things about the history of the church being less than pristine. I have suffered the repetitious commentary on the hypocrisy of Christians themselves. (i.e., it turns out churchgoers are people too.) So here it is guys, the unvarnished truth about Christianity:

The church has a sometimes glorious, and sometimes sordid past. It was and is made of people, some of whom served God and the church and some of whom served themselves. This brings me to my second point, which is that things haven't much changed. So, knowing that some of the guys "on our team" are evil, or stupid. or self-seeking, how can we continue to take ourselves seriously? How can we continue to believe? Christ. Christianity is the only religion that does not consist of what people can or should do to become better, or nearer to God. Christianity is founded on the principle that people are idiots, and the entire religion focuses on what God has done to make us better and nearer to Him. In a sense, Christianity RELIES ON the church and the people who fill it failing miserably in their task to live by Christian principles. If we could or would behave as we claim to believe, what would we need Christ for?

2008-06-09T19:40:00.000-05:00

I can't help but think how strange and how human it is that we have dictated it somehow improper to discuss those two things which most reflect, and in fact, wholly reflect who we are: politics and religion. That these two things are so often intertwined, even when we do our best to separate them, seems natural and inevitable. Each, after all, must build upon the other, as both express everything about who we believe ourselves to be, what we think is our place in this world and what it is we most desire to accomplish.