Things We Can't See

One of the things I have been trying to figure out, with my writing, is how to present my world view.  I want the characters in my book to demonstrate, by their actions, the things I have learned and want to teach.  It is difficult, because my world view is not completely gelled. I am very analytical by nature and tend to look for logic in all things, becoming frustrated when others refuse to behave in a logical manner.  I've learned, through my children, that in order to analyze the logic of someone's behavior, you must first understand what motivates them. You must understand, for example, that a child's desire to please their friends outweighs their desire to please their mother.  You must understand that they are willing to get into a fight with their mother and risk punishment (which seems very illogical) in order to avoid being embarrassed in front of their friends (by doing something like wearing boots when there is a lot of snow on the ground, because boots are not cool and sneakers - even when wet - are the thing to wear).  I am also frustrated when my own impulses seem illogical. 

I was raised as a Christian and trained as a scientist. Christianity, with its reliance on faith in things unseen, does not easily occupy the same space as my scientific mind and logical approach.  So, I look at motives to find a plausible explanation. The scientist says that religion is an organization created to control the primitive, superstitious populace of old.  As a scientist, it has no place in this modern world.  We don't need Zeus to explain away our fear of thunder and lightening. 

I would accept this explanation were it not for experiences of my own that remain mysterious and cannot be easily explained away.  Why is it that I often get a feeling that I should call someone close to me only to have the phone ring and find that same person is calling me?  I can't explain it.  Why is it that I have a feeling I should move a glass or plate, forget to move it and then find that it was knocked over and broken by me, the cat or someone else?  Why is it that my gut often knows that a situation is bad long before my head has figured it out?

The scientist says that my subconscious mind figures things out before my conscious mind knows about them. I'm not so sure. I know it's not logical, but I think there's more to it than that.  When one door closes, another one opens. I have seen it happen. I have felt myself nudged to do things that I don't understand until many weeks or months later, when the decision is revealed as something very good.  So, as I write, I try to listen. I try to allow myself to be guided.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.   1 Corinthians 13:12

Sermon

October 16, 2011 is Laity Sunday. I volunteered to preach.

Matthew 22:15-22is the gospel lesson for that day.  Here's the summary:

Three players:

Pharisees - religious group, oppose Roman rule, strict followers of the Jewish laws

Herodians - political group that supports Herod Antipas, the local Roman ruler under the Roman Emperor Caesar.

             - - -  usually enemies, but united against Jesus. 

Pharisees sent their students along with Herodians to test and trap Jesus.  First, they flatter him.  Then, they ask Jesus, "Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar?"

Why is this a trap?   It's a YES/NO question.

If Jesus said "YES, it’s lawful," the common people would reject him, because they hated paying taxes.  The Pharisees would say that paying Rome meant recognizing Roman authority and rejecting God’s authority.

If Jesus said "NO, it’s not lawful," the Herodians would take him to be arrested for treason.

He outsmarted them both saying, "Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s."  He makes them both look foolish by exposing their crooked intentions.

Lessons for us:

1. People in power, like the Pharisees and Herodians, often rise to power as a result of hard work, talent and vision. They start out trying to do good things (like providing interpretation of God’s law or governmental stability to a region), but after a while they start to care more about their own position of power than the original ideals that got them there.

2. Why did Jesus say we should render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s? Does he give authority to Caesar? Was he simply trying to save his own skin?  He is eventually arrested, so maybe he's just stalling for time. I think he is teaching a bigger lesson.  By asking to see the coin, he seems to be limiting Caesar’s authority to the coin and payment of tax. Government does not rule our life or our heart. Money and taxes are of the earth and taxes go to the government. What do we give to God?

3. We live in a complex society under the rule of law and the church, just as Jesus, the disciples and new Christians did. We are subject to the laws of Pennsylvania and the United States of America. As Christians, we are also subject to God’s law.

It is tempting to avoid this tension between flesh and spirit, Earth and Heaven, the Secular and Christian world. We could choose one or the other, to avoid the tension. Guilt and fear of God’s wrath can make us push God away, rejecting his rules and living for today, choosing Earth over Heaven. Taking our free will and rejecting authority, relying on ourselves, our logic and cunning.

The opposite choice is complete rejection of the secular world, choosing Heaven over Earth through isolation, closed communities, avoiding the world of sin. We might be tempted to remove ourselves from society, to avoid people we fear might tempt us into sinful behavior, to cloister ourselves. We could spend our days at home in prayer, visiting only those Christians we judge pure enough and shunning all others.

Are we able to identify sinless Christians?  Can we judge, at least, who is less sinful than we are? Even if we could, if we separate ourselves from the world, who will save the world?  If we surround ourselves with people of great faith and discipline at the exclusion of all others, how will we do God’s work? 

We must be like the Thessalonians (1 Thessalonians 1-10). We must resist the temptations of a corrupt society and our own sinful nature.  We are called to live by our faith, perform works of faith, labors of love and to be patient, hanging on through hope and the power of the Holy Spirit.  In the world, not of it.

Chapter 5 - Hurray!

I've been writing a book. I was doing very well, for a beginner, back in May, but then summer vacation started and I stopped writing. I find it very difficult to think when the kids are home. I'm too busy cooking, cleaning the kitchen and arguing!

School started up again last month and I started taking an adult writing workshop to get the engines revving. They aren't revving as loudly as they were in May, but I think I'm getting there. I've developed the plot a bit further, made a few advances toward some real action, given a bit of foreshadowing and written another 3000 words. It's all at about the second draft stage. There aren't any terrible typos or misspellings, but the writing is loose (which is not great). I'll have to tighten it a lot and work on removing weak adjectives. I find it very difficult to remember all of the little details that are in there. A lot of them are probably irrelevant, but I still have to keep them consistent.

I'd really love to post it all here, but then who would buy the book?!  So, instead, I'll tell you that I'm making progress and that's all!

Caution - Danger ahead

I have always been a critical reader. I used to love to read, but now it's becoming a challenge to enjoy reading. The difficulty developed as my analytical training as a scientist increased, and has risen to astounding heights now that I am attempting to write. I analyze ad nauseum.  Well, I suppose it will be helpful in the long run.

I started a new book recommended by an online reading group that I joined last week. I began reading about fifteen minutes ago and have already exhausted myself with the ping pong match going on in my head.

"Oh, this writing sounds forced."

"Yes, it sounds a lot like the first chapter of your book."

"This doesn't flow easily like HARRY POTTER."

"I'm starting to wish I'd never read those blasted books. They read so effortlessly. I'll never write like that."

"Quit whining and just let the words erupt from you.  Stop trying to control what comes out. That's your problem. You're such a control freak."

FREAK   FREAK    FREAK

Thanks, Petunia, I needed that.

Strange Behavior

Jimmy, our neighbor, called yesterday and asked if we’d like him to cut our five-acre field. I said sure. He’d done it for us over the years.  My husband was sleeping after a 24-hour shift at the hospital, but had earplugs in and wouldn’t be bothered by the noise of the tractor and brush hog.  He came up around 2 pm and started cutting. When I went out at 3:50 to drive down to the bus stop for the kids, I let the dogs out. Jimmy was just finishing up.

We were back within ten minutes and Jimmy was gone. The kids went right to work on their homework and I was getting dinner together. We had to eat early, because my son had soccer practice. The dogs started barking, so I looked out the window. I could see something that looked like a dog out at the far end of the fresh-cut field. I decided it was a coyote and called the kids over to see him.  I went up to tell my husband to look outside, but he was fast asleep and didn’t move, even when I gently touched his arm. He looked so exhausted that I left him and went back downstairs. The dogs kept barking, but were staying within the bounds of the invisible fence.  I grabbed the camera and took a few pictures from the porch. They weren’t very good, because I was too far away, but I wanted to be able to show my husband.  It looked like the coyote was hunting. I remembered a study I’d read about recently that had showed that wolves mostly ate rodents. There were lots of mice and moles in that field.  I’d never seen a coyote before and thought it was really cool.  I snapped three pictures and hurried back to the kitchen to turn the potato and zucchini pancakes.

My son finished his homework first and was annoyed at the dogs, so he went out to call them.  They were still barking and carrying on.  He yelled for me, because out terrier had gone past the invisible fence and was approaching the coyote. I ran out and told my son to stay put on the porch. As I ran toward them, calling the terrier, our beagle mutt followed me. I changed my mind, realizing I would have a hard time handling both dogs, and called the boy to help me.

“Grab Buddy and take him back to the house,” I shouted. He ran hard across the field and grabbed him by the collar. Buddy tried to get free, but my son yanked and pulled and smacked him once. I looked back and saw the beagle on his back being submissive.

I turned to get the terrier, Beau, and he and the coyote were disappearing toward the road. Oh no, I thought. I ran toward them, calling Beau, worried he’d take off or get in a fight. He quickly came around the corner, panting. “Good boy,” I said and called him to me. We went back to the house. With the dogs safely inside, we returned to homework and dinner. I was still checking my daughter’s homework while we ate. She had had work to do in every subject.

We finished eating and I told my son to hurry.  “Daddy can check the rest of your work,” I told our girl.  “Tell him about the coyote when he wakes up.” I said as I was opening the door to go out.  

“Why?” she asked from the kitchen.

“So he can look outside and see him.” I replied.

“He’s gone,” she said.

“But he might come back to feed some more,” I said.

“Whatever,” she mumbled.

We were at soccer practice until it got dark at 7:30 and got back home around 8:10. As we walked in, my daughter came to the door. “Dad shot the coyote,” she said.

“What? Why would he do that?” I asked.

“Yeah, right,” my son said.

“He said it was acting funny,” she replied.

We walked upstairs and I looked at my husband in disbelief. My eyes were filling with tears. “Did you shoot it?” I asked.

“I thought you wanted me to. It was acting really strange. It kept hanging around. I thought you’d be relieved,” he said, walking toward me, reaching out.

“It was hunting,” I said, my voice rising as I pushed him away. I looked around for my daughter.
“Didn’t you tell him?” I asked her.

“Tell him what?” she asked.

“That it was hunting! The field had just been mowed and it was hunting mice! That’s why it was hanging around!! I took pictures of it,” I said as I looked for the camera.

“I didn’t know,” my husband and daughter both replied.

Holding the camera, I looked for the adapter to plug into the computer and download the pictures, but couldn’t find it. I wanted to show him that it had been harmless, just hunting mice, as if proving it was harmless would change the outcome.  I slammed the door on the computer desk in anger and frustration and stormed down the stairs and out the door.  Outside, I cried and groaned and gasped for air, wanting to turn back time and wake my husband up at 5:00 to tell him about the cool coyote feeding in the field.

How could this have happened? How could she have let him kill it? Was she so oblivious that she had missed the whole thing or was she so fearful that she had decided it was dangerous in spite of my excitement at watching it?  I cried in anguish over the senseless killing, standing at the edge of the field where I had last seen the coyote.

After a short while, I heard my husband calling me.  “Honey, where are you?’ he called.

“I’m over here,” I called back, trying to calm down. I turned and walked slowly toward him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his head hanging down.  My mind swam with thoughts of him talking about the guys killing coyotes at the hunting camp, because they preyed on the deer.  They just liked to kill. But, we only kill what we eat. He always said that. We only kill what we eat.  He wasn’t like the other guys. 

“I never meant to upset you. I thought you would be really happy. I was trying to protect us and the dogs and cat.”

“It’s her,” I said. “It’s the way she talked about it. She made you think I was worried, but I wasn’t.”

“It’s not her fault. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know that the field had just been cut while I was sleeping. I thought maybe it was cut yesterday while I was working and I hadn’t noticed.  I didn’t think about it.  It’s not her fault.” He reached out and drew me into his arms. “You thought you were going to wake up tomorrow morning and get to watch it hunt again,” he said.

“Yeah, I did.”  We hugged each other and felt the confusion of misunderstanding and the sadness of death all around us. We slowly walked back to the house.  It was very dark and quiet.

I went upstairs. The lights were all off. I went into each of the kids’ rooms and kissed them good night, trying not to blame my daughter. Maybe she had missed the whole thing. She had been busy with her homework.  Maybe it was an innocent mistake.

My husband made us each a drink and we sat down in our usual spots. I felt numb. His eyes were red rimmed and tired.  We talked about what had happened and tried to make sense of it. Then, out of words, we picked up books and newspapers, trying to resume our normal routine of reading before bed.  Still hurting, we went to bed early. 

I dreamed that the kids and I were walking to the mini-van, our old mini-van that we got rid of last year. My son asked if he could drive. He was around ten, like now. I said, “Yes, but just a little,” and got in the back. He went to the driver’s seat and did something I couldn’t see. He put something in the back trunk area.  His sister got in the front passenger seat.

The van started moving. It was swerving a bit. After a few minutes, I said “Stop, that’s enough.” He didn’t stop or answer and I started shouting.  Somehow, I got out of the van and ran around to the driver’s side. I was very upset and kept shouting, “Stop”.  My son and daughter had pushed their seat-backs all the way back and were lying flat, completely reclined, all strapped in. The steering wheel was gone. That was what my son had put in the trunk area. He said that it was in his way. As I was seeing all of this and trying to stop the van, a lady drove by and said, “Watch out! There’s a police car right behind you.”

I reached in and pulled the emergency brake.  The police car stopped behind us and an officer got out. I was yelling at my son to get unbuckled and get out so we wouldn’t get in trouble. The officer went over to my daughter on the other side and started talking to her as if she were the mother. He talked funny and seemed really slow and confused about what he was supposed to do. The kids got out of the mini-van and a crowd was gathering around us. The officer kept saying, “Well, I don’t know. Let me see. I just don’t know.” I was very worried, but he never paid attention to me. He kept saying it to my daughter. After a while, we just walked away. I put the steering wheel back where it went and got in to drive. That’s when I woke up and remembered the night before. I still felt numb, so numb and sad.

It has been too long. My children have been home for summer vacation and I have felt trapped, convinced that I couldn't write with them in my space. True or not, I dont know, because I didn't try. Summer vacation was supposed to end today, but school was postponed due to power outages. Mother Nature took the name Irene.

My impulse to post was spurred by a burst of understanding that will probably underwhelm you. I know and knew that I am very critical of my daughter. She constantly surprises and confuses me. She wants things that I have never wanted, chooses things that I would never choose. I often find myself arguing with her about her choices, likes and dislikes. Is she a "bad girl"? Does she want things that I consider immoral or risky? Oh, no. Nothing like that. She just chooses things that I would never have chosen in a million years!! My son also likes things that don't interest me. So, why am I so bothered by my daughter?

It seems to me that the problem is that I expect my daughter to be more like me. My son is a boy, so I don't expect him to be like me. In fact, since I'm not a boy, I really don't expect ... anything.  The daughter, though, she's in a different category. I know what I liked when I was her age and I'm bothered that she doesn't have similar tastes. How could she like those things? What is her reasoning, motivation, etc?

In case you're wondering what huge choice spurred this post, it was a bathing suit. She wants a type of bathing suit that I have seen, but found very unusual. A rashguard. I know that's what it's called, becasue I did some searching. Huh........

Reading vs Writing

Well, fans, I haven't written anything all week, because I've been reading a really good book, cleaning the pool, watering the garden and going to dentist appointments during my usual writing time. Sorry. I'll try to do better next week.

If you're thinking - go write now - all I can say is I'm hungry and have to mow the lawn after I eat. Oh, and the kitchen is a disaster, and three's laundry to fold and put away. In fact, I wrote out schedule for Monday and I can barely fit any writing time into it. It's only going to get worse once the kids are home from school.

Sigh......