One is the Loneliest Number

I’m the key figure in an on-going government charade, the plot to conceal the truth about the existence of extraterrestrials. It’s a global conspiracy, actually, with key players in the highest levels of power, that reaches down into the lives of every man, woman, and child on this planet. So, of course, no one believes me. I’m an annoyance to my superiors, a joke to my peers. They call me Spooky. Spooky Mulder, whose sister was abducted by aliens when he was just a kid and who now chases after little green men with a badge and a gun, shouting to the heavens or to anyone who will listen that the fix is in, that the sky is falling and when it hits it’s gonna be the s***storm of all time.

Four months of transition has reared it’s ugly head tonight and I’m a teary, melancholic mess. I’m missing my former life in ways I can’t even begin to describe and am currently comforting myself by watching The X-files movie. It’s helping. A little.

Prayer from Clement of Alexandria

“Shepherd of tender youth, guiding in love and truth
Through devious ways: Christ, our triumphant King,
We come Thy Name to sing;
Hither our children bring, to shout Thy praise.”“Thou art our holy Lord, the all-subduing Word,
Healer of strife: Thou didst thyself abase,
That from sin’s deep disgrace,
Thou mightest save our race, and give us life.”
“So now and till we die, sound we Thy praises high,
And joyful sing: infants, and the glad throng,
Who to Thy church belong,
Unite to swell the song to Christ our King. Amen.”

Proving My Point

So all the *hard* stuff is practically done here and we’re to the little things like placing the picture frames around and shuffling the last piles of books we seem to have no place for (despite purchasing three new bookcases and receiving two used bookcases for free from the St. Louis Craig’s List.

After a few minor differences of opinion, I became unreasonably disgruntled when Craig suggested the big bookcase I had placed to the left of the window in the school room would fit better on the right side. Changing it would require a lot of work, taking everything off, moving everything on the right side of the window out of the way, moving the bookcase over, putting everything back on, moving all the stuff on the right side of the window to the left, etc.

This is no ordinary room. It’s the school/craft/miscellaneous everything else room. It has a *lot* of stuff. Mostly, though, I just didn’t want to take Craig’s advice. I, after all, had set the room up myself and was happy with it. I didn’t want to change it. I didn’t want him to be right.

But after he suggested again that I at least measure the wall and the bookcase to see if it would fit better, I finally did it, although not happily. Of course it was a better fit and so I proceeded to do just what I described above. Halfway through the process, I heard/felt a pop in my back. I proved my point alright – the point that I’m an idiot. And despite my desire to show I could “do it myself” just like one of the half pints, I couldn’t.

So here I sit, a mandatory rest because it hurts too much to bend over. A constant reminder of what pride actually accomplishes in me.

Things To Do

Sell a house in Colorado check
Move from one apartment to another check
Make 3 separate trips to Wal-mart and two to Target in an 18 hour period check
Unpack boxes check
Unpack more boxes check
Stare at massive pile of remaining boxes and declare “We’re going to McDonald’s for dinner!” check
Drop dead This one will have to wait until later…

Gulp!

I just picked up (read: purchased) the course syllabus for Ancient and Medieval Church History which officially begins two weeks from today. I don’t know the number of pages, but the stack measures 1.75″ tall. It’s a big one.

It usually takes me about two weeks to get unpacked from a major move, so that’s what I’ve been telling Craig. But it just dawned on me that my class begins at the beginning of my “second” move-in week. I either need to punch it next week, or I’m going to need some extra grace because I have a feeling this class is going to eat my proverbial lunch.

It’s all fun and games until someone (me) walks out with a failing grade in a graduate level course…

Coming Together

The pieces of our puzzle are starting to fit together a little better than they have seemed to. I’m sure they’ve all been in the box these past three and a half months, but when you don’t have the lid, they don’t make much sense.

On Friday, we make our final move. It’s been long in coming, but it’s reachable now and we’re all so glad. I overheard the girls today talking about the move and Maddie said, “We are moving into our next place this week!” Chloe said, “How long will we be there?” and Maddie answered, “Just four years and then we’ll move again!” Indeed.

On Thursday, the sale of our Colorado house becomes official. The weight will be lifted. We can get started on the budget we came up with for the St. Louis adventure back in February.

Today we found our church. We certainly don’t believe in magical signs for determining where we go or what we do, but there was something comforting about walking out of the service this morning and both me and Craig giving happy sighs and saying, “Yep. That’s the one.” (Note to those of you who live in St. Louis and invited us to your churches, we have nothing negative that we’re harboring about your churches. We liked many aspects about those as well, this one just seems the right fit for us.)

Plugging in, settling down, moving on. It feels good.

Brother Bob and Pastor Larry

Picking up Katie from her class on Sunday, I noticed it again: ten glassy-eyed 3-year-olds comatose in front of a television on a roller cart, learning the gospel according to talking vegetables.

Today wasn’t the first time, nor was the church we visited the only one to succumb to this video default. Out of the three churches we’ve been to in St. Louis, two of them have chosen this babysitting option for the younger set.

During our numerous church-hunting phases in Colorado Springs, there were several who opted for this method as well. The church we went to before we went back to Village 7 (who amazingly didn’t do this) showed a different Veggie Tales video every Sunday for children’s church. It drove me crazy then. It still does.

What is it about children’s ministries today? Are teachers really so poorly trained that they honestly can not come up with a Bible lesson/activity for 90 minutes every week? Why do we, as the parents of the children, put up with it?

And on another note all together, why is it that the one thing that seems to unite all the various denominations that exist within Christianity (and even the various divisions of each denomination), and the plethora of different churches within each division of each denomination is Veggie Tales?

Was Phil Vischer the only creative Christian filling the void in the animated Bible story world?
Before anyone comes at me with the virtues of the vegetables, let me say exactly what my beef with this is. This is church we’re talking about here. It’s not a daycare, it’s not a preschool, it’s not your friend next door doing a kid swap for the afternoon to give you a break. It’s church. The place where we go to worship, and learn from the Word of God.

Yes, the nursery is a childcare situation, and one I’m thankful for so that for a couple of hours each week, I can have the privilege of undistracted worship. But part of what contributes to my not being distracted is believing my children are in a situation where they are safe, cared for well, and taught from the Bible.

And, no, watching an episode of Veggie Tales is not the same as hearing a story told from the Bible. I love the Veggie Tales. We have copies of all of them before Big Brother Media took over (the quality really went downhill after that, imho) and we watch them. But we never do so as a replacement for actual Bible teaching. Woe to the children who grow up thinking that the Canaanites really threw milkshakes over the wall on the heads of Joshua and Company.

Looks like we’ll continue onward in our St. Louis church-hunt, knowing that no perfect church exists, but knowing there has to be a better fit for us somewhere.

Sheesh, whatever did the early church do about childcare?