Quotation from Augustine

I am back blogging at http://weeklywesley.blogspot.com check it out, you can subscribe to it. Basically it is my attempt to present some Methodist doctrine and issues that we have forgotten/ignored/not known. I try to focus on the lives of the early Methodist preachers, Christian perfection, and Wesley's 52 standard sermons.

But back to the lecture at hand:

I came across this quotation from Augustine. It deals with how we navigate the intersection of the Old and New Testaments. We have been studying Leviticus on Sunday evenings, and it brings up a lot of this issue.

"if we are asked why we regard [the Old] Testament as authoritative when we do not observe its ordinances, we find the answer to this also in the apostolic writings, for the apostle says , "let no man judge you in meat or drink, in respect of a holiday or new moon, or of a Sabbath, which are a shadow of things to come..... So when we read anything in the books of the Old Testament which we are not required to observe, or which is even forbidden, instead of finding fault with it, we should ask what it means; for the very discontinuance of the observance proves it to be not condemned, but fulfilled."

Robot Night

So John Crissman and Michael Kramer turned me on to Lego Mindstorms NXT, a robotics system for Legos. Basically, there is a computer (called the "brick") that controls the various motor and sensor functions. It can be programmed graphically on the brick, using a graphical program on you home computer, or directly by downloading programs in a variety of languages.

I was totally stoked and Jessie said "we totally have to get this for the boys."

So it came yesterday and we had to fight really hard not to tear into it! We had church so we did not get to play with it last night. but tonight we ordered pizza and sat around, then busted out the robot. it took John and Joe about 45 minutes to build the frame. Then we put the brick on, connected it to the motors and a touch sensor. Then in about 2 minutes keyed in a sample program by scrolling through icons. The program tells the robot to go forward until its touch sensor is activated then it goes backwards until the touch sensor is activated and it goes forward.

There are other sensors that it will be cool to mess with: ultrasonic, to measure distance; a light and color sensor. There are some after-market stuff like compass, gyroscope, thermometer, or linking a number of bricks together...

I am hoping that this is something that is fun enough for the boys but also gets them into science and technology, esp computer stuff. Here is the robot, ready to go:














Can't get a video uploaded... later.

A Geography of Love, part 1

Ok, so I was in the doctor’s office this morning and ran into a parishioner... for a variety of stream-of-consciousness reasons, here’s what I ended up thinking.

Here and there, some in the Christian Community will talk about “community.” or “authentic community.”

Some of you who have been friends of mine for a while know I cringe when I hear the word “community” because it has become a buzzword, a word that lacks meaning, a word that if you say it immediately trumps the content of what is being said...

I think I may have figured out why the word as I have experienced its usage rubs me wrong.

I know some people, some for a long time, some just now getting to know in Morehead, who have known each other for a long time. Like decades. Their devotion to one another is touching-- coming to get them for church, taking each other to doctor’s appointments, hanging out for lunch...

I don’t think they would say they “have community” or “are community for each other...” They don’t need a word-become-a-theory-turned-into-a-book-and-speaking-engagements...

They are... friends? Christians?

Most of the talk of community seems to have an expectation that it should happen quickly; that small groups or watching the Office, or whatever will create it.

No, only time in obedience to love will create it.

15 years it ago it was not at all clear that Steve McKinney and John Crissman would be my best friends. There were many other people in our circles.

But time and love...

Holiness

For us Methodists, Holiness is the theme of the Bible. God is love precisely because of His Holiness.

For a month or so we have been studying Leviticus on Sunday evenings. I know, I know, you can't really believe Leviticus would draw a crowd, but it does. It's a book that is easy to dismiss, easy to freak out about on a surface reading. But if you spend some time with it, try to get into its mindset and then understand how Jesus dealt with it--both in His teaching and on the Cross-- the rewards are great. As evidenced by last night.

We have spent the last three weeks on chapters 11-15: food laws; purification after childbirth; regulations concerning mildew and infectious skin diseases. You wonder, why is this in the Bible? What does it have to do with us?

Well, maybe Dave Saxon summed it up. He said something like this about holiness in light of Jesus' work on the Cross and the nature of the Law: there's no middle ground. You're not following orders. It's about the condition of your heart. And other people need to see it in you.

That, I think, is the holiness Leviticus would impart to us in light of Jesus' work as priest and sacrifice.

The Beatitudes

At the Methodist Student Center, I got a chance to talk to the students about my favorite of the Beatitudes... Blessed are the peacemakers. I know, I know, everyone knows I'm a straight up brawler, so how can that one be my favorite? Maybe later we'll talk about that... "blessed are the peacemakers" means something much different than the surface look reveals...

What was going on with me that night was I was sitting around with the students, thinking about how some of them are under pressure for their faith, have been; some have given their whole young lives to Him. It's not like I came in at the last hour, but it's more like 3 o'clock The Lord came to the city square and found me doing absolutely nothing (oh, I was busy, but it was a big pile of nothing) and said, "Go work in my vineyard."

I got there late, had to learn the job quick.

I have a sense of profound unworthiness that only can be overcome by the grace of God.

I remember my first communion at Annual Conference as a probationary member. I was there with my boy David Crow--we should have known the days were short--they are always short. Anyway, Debbie Padgett was serving communion and I was struck by her smile, of course, but also by the thought that here is someone sold out for a long time to Jesus. And I was thinking, "Man, if they only knew... they would never let me in." I was thinking about how guys with a prison record probably wouldn't make it-- and most of what I did just wasn't illegal. Or there's no piss test for my sins.

So, yeah, communion is pretty sweet.

Random Notes

Lets see... There has been a lot going on lately. Good stuff. Some men in the church cleaned the carpet in our multi-purpose building. It gets a lot of traffic, and man does it look good now. It's another piece of how well Morehead UMC functions-- something needs doing, it gets done.
---------------

Even staff meetings are creative and productive. Looking forward to Christmas in more ways than one is all I'm gonna say.
--------------

We had a great time in bible study on Wednesday. Heavy stuff in Romans 5, great testimonies about personal faith and God's grace. It was one of those special moments with the Word

---------------
I just finished John Noble's book, I Was A Slave In Russia. He was an American citizen arrested by the Soviets. A very interesting read. Heartbreaking.

It will come as no surprise that I have a small collection of books on or by GULag survivors. Part of it is a kind of morbid sense that we aren't free of danger from such atrocities, and we need to know what it is and how it infests a society. And another part is wondering why concentration camps seem to be a fundamental feature of socialism.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

More on Hard Time Witnessing

This is from Theo, Francine's husband:

It gets better

Addendum to the old ultra man

We mentioned that church was good for the soul, to which the old man vehemently replied that idea had been dead for 2000 years. While he stomped off in disgust at these two Christians, one of us called after him "We'll see who's right". Modern humans have made themselves comfortable by the lie that there is nothing after death. After the old man turned the corner and disappeared into the hills, we were left with a sense of having seen a legend in the running world, a hero to us ultra folks, come down hard to being a tragically lost person in great need of a Savior. He is 80+ years, and physical death is around the corner, time to make up your mind buddy. He probably thought we were a couple of Jesus freak ultra runners in need of a therapist. Don't feel bad for us. We were (and every time still are) elated at having been given the chance to be one of the, on average, seven witnessing people it might take before a person comes to faith. So, there is hope! Christ said "Go" and promised He will always be with us. He was given authority in heaven and earth, who can beat that? Evangelism is not hard at all if we humbly accept that we are His messengers and He is fully in control. Don't count the number of converts, He will do that, He knows the total number required before He comes back. Can't wait for that day, and yet, the harvest is waiting, is ripe and abundant. Now go! Thank you Jesus, for letting us do Your work, for giving us the credit.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Hard Time Witnessing

This comes from my friend Francine, telling of a time that just even a simple word about church freaks people out...


Aaron,

This summer when we were in Colorado, Theo and I went out for a run and then met an old guy (80), who was in great physical shape. He was one of those ultra-guys, he had been out since that morning (it was now 7 pm or so), hiking and running in the mountains.

So we talked about that, running, hiking, mountain climbing etc. Nice talking, and he shared that that weekend there was going to be a big event in town (Bike Fest, which we had seen advertised) and on Sunday there was a special race. If we wanted to come?

So we said, "No, we are going to church on Sunday, nicer to go there (church)."

It was as if he had seen the devil, he turned abruptly, and ran off, cursing on his way down, "church? No way man, don't give me that!" He couldn't get away form us quick enough.

________
What does something like this mean? On the one hand, there is a trope in Christian writing and communication where we beat ourselves up, talk about how we do a terrible job witnessing with our lifestyles, etc...

But we also have to keep in mind that people are afraid of the light, for deeds done in drakness will be exposed...

In truth, evangelism is hard work. On the one hand, yes, the Church can give itself a bad name. On the other, the difficulty of repentance keeps some from the Good News.

Nothing can make you feel like a failure like evangelism can. Perhaps worse than being cussed is the apathy?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Arts and Eats

Morehead/Rowan County hosted the Autumn Arts and Eats Festival yesterday. By all accounts, it was a very successful day-- way more people than anyone expected.

I have to say I am still being blessed by the thought of what happened. The church decided to purchase a booth and sell "Walking Tacos--" a bag of Fritos with chile and cheese poured in. Man, is it good. We sold close to 300.

But what was so amazing was the number of volunteers from the church. More than 30 came to work at our booth. Many, many more donned the red shirts we had made. No doubt, there were more of those Morehead Methodist red shirts than any other shirts that were out.

Our kids were amazing-- a group of elementary kids came and passed out cards. 400 cards inviting people to our church! The kids were all over the place. I was really proud of them!

I was able to do nothing else but talk to people about the church and their spiritual lives. There were so many volunteers, so many of our church people introducing me to their friends...

And what's wild is that the Children's Ministry Team first started putting this together as an outreach to the community! So from the start, we went into it as an outreach. Can't beat that.

If our church will stay focused on getting out of the doors and helping people to find their way to Jesus and to church, great things are going to happen here!

Sleepy Kids

Joe and Nadia are up, but barely.

John in still asleep.

We had a pile of kids over for Johns birthday and there was lots of excitement and games.

Nadia just pointed at the helicopter, waved her arm around and said "go go go."

Today is the autumn Arts and Eats Festival. We are hoping to get the word out about our church in the community. That's most in my heart for prayer today--that the world may know.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

You really do need to set aside the time to read this 1400 page book...

Great writing comes from great tragedy, from the deep suffering of a people.

It’s always risky to figure out what “cultural artifacts” will endure: what is the great writing of today? What will we pass on to centuries yet to come? Some of you know this is why I half-jokingly say I have not read much past the 4th century; it saves me from worrying about whether what I am reading and spending time on is just a waste of time, because it will be quickly forgotten. I remember a fellow college freshman telling me he thought Midnight Oil would be remembered just like Beethoven... So I won’t have much of an answer for you about Rob Bell or Francis Chan-- not just because I suspect they are hipsters, but will what they write matter in 5 years? Will you read the book again 25 years from now?

Literary critics have spent an inordinate amount of time on Joyce, Faulkner, and Proust (to name a few), only to find that Steinbeck--who was relegated to the second tier-- gains more ground as time passes; that precisely because Steinbeck was not navel-gazing (which, whatever the stylistic merits of the aforementioned Trinity may be, they were navel-gazers), his works continue to speak to readers. There’s a big difference between reading obsessive Oedipal memories and experiencing the cultural pain of something like the Dust Bowl and labor unrest from 1920-40.

It makes me wonder if there is not some great Chinese writing to be discovered for us English speakers, detailing the horrors of that nation’s experiments with socialism. I know we have not paid enough attention to the African American Diaspora from the South...

And then there is Solzhenitsyn. A titan. Someone who is not only a brilliant stylist--Joyce, Faulkner, Woolf and others imitated each other, but what Solzhenitsyn created in GULag Archipelago, we are still sorting through what to call that “style.” A new style, a new genre, had to be created to deal with something unprecedented: the systematic torture and destruction, over a period of 40 years of people in Lenin and Stalin’s death camps.

I first read GULag Archipelago when I was 12. It’s a testament to Solzhenitsyn’s power that even a 12 year-old can understand the book! I remember the Preface, which I suppose is indicative of what Solzhenitsyn was about to unleash over the next 1400 pages... To this day, I think it is the greatest opening in all of literature:

“In 1949 some friends and I came upon a noteworthy news item in Nature, a magazine of the Academy of Sciences. It reported in tiny type that in the course of excavations on the Kolyma River a subterranean ice lens had been discovered which was actually a frozen stream--and in it were found frozen specimens of prehistoric fauna some tens of thousnads of years old. Whether fish or salamander, these were preserved in so fresh a state, the scientific correspondents reported, that those present immediately broke open the ice encasing the specimens and devoured them with relish on the spot.

“The magazine no doubt astonished its small audience with the news of how successfully the flesh of fish could be kept fresh in a frozen state. But few, indeed, among its readers were able to decipher the genuine and heroic meaning of this incautious report.

“As for us, however--we understood instantly. We could picture the entire scene, right down to the smallest details: how those present broke up the ice in frenzied haste; how flouting the higher claims of ichthyology and elbowing each other to be first, they tore off chunks of the prehistoric flesh and hauled them over the bonfire to thaw them out and bolt them down.

“We understood, because we ourselves were the same kind of people ‘as those present’ at that event. We, too, were form that powerful tribe of ‘zeks” [prisoners in the Soviet system of death camps], unique on the face of the earth, the only people who could devour prehistoric salamander with relish.

“And the Kolyma was the greatest and most powerful island, the pole of ferocity of that amazing country of Gulag which, though scattered in an archipelago geographically, was, in the psychological sense, fused into a continent--an almost invisible, almost imperceptible country inhabited by the zek people.

“And this Archipelago crisscrossed and patterned that other country within which it was located, like a gigantic patchwork cutting into its cities, hovering over its streets. Yet there were many who did not even guess at its presence, and many, many others who had heard something vague. And only those who had been there knew the whole truth.

“But as though stricken dumb on the islands of the Archipelago, they kept their silence...

“...I have absorbed into myself my own eleven years there not as something shameful nor as a nightmare to be cursed: I have come almost to love that monstrous world...”

I suppose there was no writer I wanted to meet more than Solzhenitsyn. He was impressed into my mind early because a distant cousin was part of debriefing him when he was expelled from the Soviet Union. That was just a family story that perhaps put the book on the shelf. Or did my dad know that this was the most important work published in the 20th century? The most important work in how many hundreds of years? We might say this one book tore the Soviet Union down.

The book was Solzhenitsyn’s blackmail; the KGB wanted to kill him, but the book had been smuggled out by (if memory serves me correct) Mstislav Rostropovich, and Solzhenitsyn threatened to publish it if he should disappear or die mysteriously. (side note: many copies of it were typed out on 3 carbons in Voru, Estonia, for all you First Methodist missionaries!)

Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir and other intellectuals tried to stop the publication (!) because it would reveal them to be liars and propagandists for the socialist cause, for the excuses and denials made for and about the millions who perished in Lenin and Stalin’s perverse world.

If you want to read anything past the fourth century, you can’t go wrong with Solzhenitsyn. “First Circle” and “Cancer Ward” are easier books of his to break into, but GULag Archipelago is the book to read if you’re only going to read one.

Mean Streets

Working on details for the service in the office, I felt this tug to go get some fresh air, to think through things on the front steps of the church. It's a good, cool day, rainy, windy.

I look across the street and see a sight I know well--not just Slone's Market and the mountain behind it, but a disheveled fellow. Homeless, alcoholic.

I walk over and sit next to him on the bench, we introduce each other. He jumps right in, "Would you help a brother out one time?"

"More than one time," I said.

"I'd like a little something to eat."

Slone's has great sandwiches, hot or cold, good, solid stick-to-your-ribs veggies... "Sure, would you like me to get you something in Slone's?"

"Well, I like Arby's." It's just down the street. "Let's go," I said.

"I was wanting to eat a little later."

"Ok, I am the pastor at the church across the street. Come get me when you're ready."

"I don't know when it will be, could you help me out?"

"I don't give anyone cash. I'll buy you something to eat if you need it, but no cash."

He shrugged. We got to talking about where he is from--Pikeville, but he moved here from Lexington 2 days ago. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not.

After we have just sat for a few moments, saying nothing, I said, "Do you know God loves you?" He just turned his head away.

"He wants to set you free from drinking."

"I am trying to sober up..."

"No you're not. You're drinking mouthwash, and that's going to kill you."

A long silence.

I pointed to the church. "You know where to find me."

My phone buzzed, had an email. I walked down the sidewalk a bit, turned around and he was gone, like a ghost. No one can disappear like a drunk.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Evangelism Visits

Today I set out early, not so much to do some evangelism visits as to do some pastoral visits among some folks in the local Senior Citizens Center, a few folks who don't have much support outside of the church. As I got there, I saw one of our folks who I did not know lived there. So I walked over to the bus stop where she was and we talked a bit. I asked her if we could read some Scripture. Psalm 46 has been on my mind a lot lately. And by lately, I mean the last 6 years. So we read it. And then I asked how I could pray. She shared some concerns and then we prayed and I was not quite prepared-- instead of just standing there, she gave me a big hug while we prayed. we talked a bit afterwards, and I am not sure I have been thanked for anything quite the way I was thanked simply for stopping, reading the Word and praying. She told me of a few friends she wants to bring to church, who feel they have been forgotten. I sure hope we can do something about that. So, I went over to visit the three I had intended to visit. Two of them were out on the porch enjoying the cool morning. We sat and talked for a bit, and then I asked how was it with their souls? Problems, worries, health concerns, but peace with Christ. I asked about prayer concerns, and they are a bit afraid of some neighbors, some slim shady who is taking advantage of his grandmother, some kind of thing like that. Lots of noise, profanity, threats against people who complain. I was not quite ready for the direction Psalm 46 would take us. "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way and mountains fall into the sea." Psalm 46:1-2 So far, I was getting it. Yes, we will not fear. "The Lord Almighty is with us, The God of Jacob is our fortress" Psalm 46:7 And still, I am right there, tracking along, Lord. But then this, and I was reminded how important it is to read the Word with the poor: "He makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth; He breaks the bow and shatters the spear, He burns the shields with fire." This is what grabbed me. It's not just that God is with us. One day, He will create such peace that we will have no need for a shield. It is not simply that we ourselves might have no swords, it is that there will be such peace ordained by God that there will be no swords anywhere. No need even for a shield. _________ After some visits at an apartment complex, I had to go back and get some more cards. I was really feeling that the evangelism visits were going well enough that I probably should not stop. I came back by the Senior Citizens Center to hit a few places I had not and came across a guy sitting outside under a gazebo. We chatted a bit. He just moved here from Lexington... we were almost neighbors; he was over off of Anniston Dr. He was not much interested in going to church (yet) but as I left he did say that if we had a bus, there are a lot of folks that might like to go to church but can't get there. I asked him if I get a bus ministry running, would he get the word out? He said he would. So even the non-believer is willing to help. I was blessed today for sure. Just before lunch I was able to visit a street and meet two folks who do not go to church. Hopefully the Lord will work on their hearts. I am going to write some notes to them now to remind them of the Lord's love for them, and their need for Him.

Stabat Mater Dolorosa

On the way over to perform Lynanne and Shawn’s wedding, I stopped off to see a family I had not seen in some time. They were a family that started coming pretty soon after I got to Winchester but came only occasionally because their youngest son, Lee, was very sick. He has a disease where his body does not produce a critical enzyme, and so occasionally all his muscles basically cramp up. Sooner or later, the heart, which is a muscle, will be affected. So I met Lee when he was about 10 or 11. He was the most cheerful kid. He used to have titanic wrestling matches with his figures and some cool rings. When he heard I had not seen “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” he let me borrow his copy. We have some great memories stored up. I left Winchester for two years then came back to Lexington, got a call from some old friends who tole me Lee was in the hospital at UK. I went in and saw his mom. Lee’s disease was in full force and he was unconscious. Doctors thought they should pull the plug; there did not seem to be any brain activity. But his mom is a bulldog for him and she contacted a specialist they saw at Johns-Hopkins who said it looked like he was dying, but really he was in a deep, deep sleep and would wake up. And he did! I had not seen him since. I heard from some friends at the wedding rehearsal that he was bed-ridden. I stopped by and it was so nice to see his parents. Lee is in a hospital bed at home, occasionally on a ventilator. The affecting thing was that in my mind, he is a young boy. But there he was, a man’s face, hair on his chest. I could only think of Mary, receiving the promise of the Christ-child, knowing him as the infant and child and boy with child-like skin and voice... and then to see his broken and battered body. We wonder at the Cross, its brutality, asking how on earth is that the means of redemption. But in that question, we miss not only the deep reasons why it is redemption (about which more later, perhaps...) but we also miss that it is God’s solidarity with us in our suffering. The world will destroy this “robe of flesh” we wear. The Cross, however, is God’s tender, “I know, I know...” to us in the agony not only of sin, but of suffering and death

Into the Desert, Into the Night

So, I get to preside over Lynanne McGever's marriage to Shawn Gallagher. Lynanne was in the youth group at my first church, Dunaway United Methodist. Her family's roots in that church are deep--mom, aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins... going all the way back to the first settlers who came with Daniel Boone and built the first church building in 1815... I was very happy to see her and her family again and to be able to be a part of the wedding. I also had a great time just looking around. We got to the church in June 2000. I looked at the little parsonage! How interesting that we were so happy there, in such a small house. We always want bigger and more... The little church is simply one of the most beautiful you will ever see... a small white building on the hill surrounded by trees. I suppose there is always something that gets me there. When I came back for Stephen Horton's wedding. I was able to pick a flower from the clematis we planted. This time, I saw some zinnias that grew volunteer from a patch we planted in a bed that we had dumped all our compost into... they grew to almost 5 ft tall! And then, I came to the place that God apparently appointed for me to reflect on, a picnic table under a pavilion behind the church. Seems plain enough, but... I used to sit there each morning and read. I was doing what I now know to be lectio divina. I was reading no more than 5 verses from Mark's gospel, sometimes as little as 1 or 2 verses. Chewing over them again and again to almost memorize them. Then I would meditate and pray over the words. Takes a while to get through a Gospel that way, but it is worth it. Then, I also would read a selection from the ancient Church, perhaps the Desert Fathers, or Chrysostom and Tertullian. I was struck last night by how much of my spiritual formation came from this little church, and more specifically, from that little table under the pavilion. Those were such happy days! Almost carefree. Compared to what was coming when we left, they were carefree! I am impressed that those days of lectio divina, fasting, prayer, Psalm reading-- things that seemed simply prudent and good in themselves in the moment-- actually turned out to be a survival training. I was headed into the desert, into the dark night and there would be no way to survive it without the wisdom of pilgrims who had gone before. How many times did the Psalms provide a prayer when there was nothing I could say? How often did fasting destroy hopelessness? And how easy was it to find the Lord, to know His presence and His voice because I had waited on it when the tree was green? What if I had gone into the dry and weary land without knowing I could take a well with me? How clearly did the wisdom of the words appear: "physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things" (1 Timothy 4:8)?

Prayer Meeting

I missed last weeks prayer meeting because I was on the road.

Back this week and again good stuff. Tom said he knew we had a soul when he attended an autopsy as a student.

Others encouraged me; they have been here for decades and say they are still impressed by the grandeur of the hills, so I probably won't take it for granted...

The hills were shrouded in mist and as I was thinking I could not see them but knew they were there, I also thought how beautiful it will be when the leaves change colors...

A woman from an Orthodox background said she wants to join here because she feels at home. Hooray for the Creed and Eucharist!

Why do we smirk at weakness? My bud James Williams is heart sore that some smirked at a homeless woman in his church. We patronize children that way, too. Their games and lack of so-called knowledge. Nadia was not feeling well last night, and neither was Joe early in the morning... What else could be done except to comfort them when they are not sure what's wrong?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Blessed

Got to worship at the Methodist Student Center tonight. It is really good to be able to sit w my family! To praise with them.

I was reminded how Jessie has said she knew she was called to minister to widows and orphans, she just did not know that it would mean marriage!

As there is so much great ministry to be done, I'm also reminded that Jessie and I have been in weird and tough places, and some blessed places...

We look forward to the work that is ahead: sowing and reaping-- we met in a garden, so it comes naturally!


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Kindersprache

I could never wait for the day the boys, and now Nay, started speaking. I wanted to know what they were thinking. What they found funny. What games they would play if no adult scripted it for them.

I guess it's my fascination with learning about other cultures and languages.

In the early days of speaking, you have to work to understand some things? There is in Nay Nay's language only slight stress distinctions between the word for "baby," "bubba," and "belly.". All three words are "bebe.". There's a natural poetry in babies!

Anyway, "milk" has been an interesting word for all three. John called it "mauk.". Joe called it "nu," and it took us a bit to figure out it was because we would say we would get him a "new" cup of milk. Nadia calls it "more," because we ask her if she wants more.

7 or 8 years ago Cindy Patton gave me an idea to start a journal I was going to call Teknalogy, or "children's words," a journal of children's prayers and spiritual formation written by children. Now that Nay is with me, I have that desire again...


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad