The Salad Days

I have begun to realize that the blogging is something that is fading from excitement for me. I can't say why. It is great to look back at our first year in Minnesota, so maybe as big events arise, I'll write.

I guess at times it has felt forced...we'll see what happens.

But today is Jack's birthday. The boy is 2 now. As we await number 3 this summer, it is great to see Jack's development. More than anything, Steph and I see a little guy who has a tenderheart. Look at him sideways and he is sobbing. He still rests his head on my shoulder when I put him to bed (I can't remember Corrie ever doing much of that).

As he turns two, what I celebrate is God's unique creature that is seen in him. And I laugh at his quirks.

He is a fun little guy. He loves the playground, loves Thomas the Tank Engine, and has just started to be excited about going to Sunday School.

In her variety of performance art, his sister usually demands more attention, and who knows what variety his little brother will add?

But he is unique. And in a world of 6 billion people, it is astonishing to remember that God never repeats himself. This little guy is loved by Steph and I just as much as our other kids, and God loves him uniquely.

Happy birthday little man. I love you.

I wrote this a few months ago (FYI, Jack's middle name, Emet, means truth in Hebrew)...




To Jack Emet

Truth is an illusive thing indeed-
It seems the search for it stretches to eternity.

Some claim to have a truth all their own-
while others claim to own it.

To me, truth has many faces.

I see it in my Lord’s suffering-
the piercing truth of his broken body

I see it in honest work-
that which I do to support my family.

And I see it in the silly grin of one little boy.

What can be true about him you say?

His life is a testimony
To the creative power of God

His smile represents
The joy the Father has in His creation.

And his name is truth.

I just read my brother Eric's post about his favorite film ever. As he talks about "Unstrung Heroes," I am struck by one part of his post in particular. He talked about how he cries each time he sees it.

I love a good movie. It would be overstating it to say that a good movie can be a means of grace, since that would minimize the true sacraments. But I will say this: movies are a means of common grace. I love music. I love books. But the combination of the senses of sight and sound combines for such a great art form.

I remember, many years ago, sitting in an apartment in La Habra with said brother in the faith Eric, watching the Deer Hunter, a film of deep sadness and great power. As the end of the film came, Eric and I looked at each other with red eyes, and said, "Man...."

I remember sitting in a movie theater in Skokie, Illinois, seeing "The Return of the King." I remember (spoiler alert!!!), as Aragorn bows to the four hobbits (and leading the rest of the humans of middle earth in the same action), hearing the audible sobs of someone in the theater. It was a man at least twice my age. A man overcome with the moment he had just seen. And the tears came to me too.

I remember sitting with my wife at the Silent Movie Theater in LA, and watching her reaction to the end of Chaplin's masterpiece, "City Lights." You see, I had taken her to that theater simply so I could see her react to that final image. An image so wonderful that it could only be made in a world where there is a God.

I remember sitting with the same woman, watching the end of "Fargo." We had just moved to Minnesota, and the the film already seemed familiar. But after we had sat through the harshness and the coarseness of the film, the final images of it began to bring a lump to my throat. You see, the peaceful image of two ordinary people who truly love each other are made even more powerful by the ugliness and the violence that one has witnessed in that film.

I just watched "La Dolce Vita" last week for the first time. It is a puzzling movie for its first (almost) three hours, but in the last few seconds, it all makes sense. And what you are left with as a viewer is something that is only possible in cinema.

God speaks to us in these ways, albeit through a dark glass.

And then there is "Spinal Tap"....oh, but that's a different kind of crying...

So we're in the car today, taking a spin around Minneapolis. It's been very pretty lately as we have gotten a lot of rain the last week or so.

We were listening to Johnny Cash, Live at San Quentin, one of Corrie's favorites. While listening to "Ring of Fire," Corrie commented, "This is one of my two favorites, this and 'Count Your Blessings.'"

Random...I'm not sure where it came from, but it was funny.

In other news, those of you who have been keeping up on my wife's blog have seen the progress Jack is making in the bathroom. I have been quite impressed by it all. Steph has done this twice now. Both times virtually holding up in the house on only hard surfaces. Both times, she has been quite pregnant, and the sitting on the floor can't be comfortable. It's almost as if she makes the home a compound, and no one will exit until success has been achieved. Well, with little Jack, he has shown (thus far, lest we be diappointed) to be up to the challenge. He learned very quickly that soiling oneself led to great discomfort. An important stride indeed.

I am blessed to be home these two days. To try to ease her burden a bit, and enjoy some of what my life has to offer.