Wednesday, January 28, 2009
unexpectations
It's sort of a weird experiment in humility, and I didn't expect that. I feel like I'm playing with fire and making things up as I go along. "Welcome to a man's world," a male friend tells me. Funny. I hear that a lot.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
little bugger was right
Sometimes running is cowardice and sometimes running is prudence, and sometimes it's hard to distinguish between the two. Ignoring red flags is stupidity, but inventing red flags is cowardice. And it may seem that everyone else is diving into the pool, but that doesn't mean you must either dive in or stay out. There is a ladder and the ladder has a railing, and as long as you cling tightly to the hand of your Father in heaven, you can get your feet wet without drowning.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
caritas and the best gift I ever got (and am)
So those who received his word were baptized, and there were added that day about three thousand souls. And they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And fear came upon every soul; and many wonders and signs were done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common; and they sold their possessions and goods and distributed them to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they partook of food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved. Acts 2:41-47, RSV-CE.
This morning I wanted to wear Joe's Mancino's shirt, so I put it on. Wearing it, I wanted to see how little of my own clothing I could wear today. I've got on Anne's running shoes, Paul's scout socks, Emily's jeans, Anne's belt-ish-thing, Joe's painted Mancino's shirt, Anne's earrings (not quite matching), my mom's hoodie, and my dad's orange hat. Near last-minute, I switched my undershirt for one of Anne's, then kicked around my pile of gloves to see whose I had. Halfway to Mauck, I realized the mittens I usually wear are either Emily's or Joe's.
I thought about carrying my things in the purple Wilson bag today, but I'd lent it to [G] for the semester. The bag used to be Emily's, and she let me take it to Timbers camp after eighth grade, and I don't think I ever gave it back to her. It was in Anne's closet for a while, I think. We've all taken it on trips and to camps.
Originally I typed "my purple Wilson bag" but I erased it and wrote "the" because it isn't really my bag, or Emily's bag, or Anne's bag. Possession of the bag is so fluid it doesn't really matter. The only thing preventing Anne from using it is a two-hour drive, and, well, Emily lives rather farther away and has her own nifty red suitcases. But I really have no attachment to it that would prevent them from having it. (That "having" is closer to "holding" than "owning.")
I suspect this is pretty close to what the early church did with their possessions. I don't think their idea of charity was "I own X, and you don't own X, and you need X, so I will give you my X so you can own an X." I think their idea of charity--caritas, yes?--was this fluid possession, or lack of possession. This shirt isn't "mine," it's just the shirt that I happen to have paid for and happens to be in my closet, but that's entirely irrelevant. It's a shirt. If you need to put something on, here's a shirt. You're dressing up and you need to look nice; let's look through the closet and see what's in the closet. We aren't even thinking about "my" shirt or "your" shirt but "the" shirt that happens to be there. You can "have" it--the "have" that means "hold" or "use," not the "have" that means "own" or "possess" or "want payment for" or "want back."
If we could all do this consistently, the world would be a better place, but still communism doesn't work.
Well, this isn't communism. Forcing people to share only works as discipline and training for caritas, not a replacement for caritas itself. If it is not free, it is not love.
(Additionally, when you base your institution on atheism, you're going to have very serious problems. Even if you don't believe in God, even a cursory glance at human history will tell you that human nature desires God, and common sense should tell you that that's not a strategic desire to stifle.)
I remember my mom relating to me something she heard from a priest: the best gift you can give your child is another sibling.
Is that true?
Heck yes.
This morning I wanted to wear Joe's Mancino's shirt, so I put it on. Wearing it, I wanted to see how little of my own clothing I could wear today. I've got on Anne's running shoes, Paul's scout socks, Emily's jeans, Anne's belt-ish-thing, Joe's painted Mancino's shirt, Anne's earrings (not quite matching), my mom's hoodie, and my dad's orange hat. Near last-minute, I switched my undershirt for one of Anne's, then kicked around my pile of gloves to see whose I had. Halfway to Mauck, I realized the mittens I usually wear are either Emily's or Joe's.
I thought about carrying my things in the purple Wilson bag today, but I'd lent it to [G] for the semester. The bag used to be Emily's, and she let me take it to Timbers camp after eighth grade, and I don't think I ever gave it back to her. It was in Anne's closet for a while, I think. We've all taken it on trips and to camps.
Originally I typed "my purple Wilson bag" but I erased it and wrote "the" because it isn't really my bag, or Emily's bag, or Anne's bag. Possession of the bag is so fluid it doesn't really matter. The only thing preventing Anne from using it is a two-hour drive, and, well, Emily lives rather farther away and has her own nifty red suitcases. But I really have no attachment to it that would prevent them from having it. (That "having" is closer to "holding" than "owning.")
I suspect this is pretty close to what the early church did with their possessions. I don't think their idea of charity was "I own X, and you don't own X, and you need X, so I will give you my X so you can own an X." I think their idea of charity--caritas, yes?--was this fluid possession, or lack of possession. This shirt isn't "mine," it's just the shirt that I happen to have paid for and happens to be in my closet, but that's entirely irrelevant. It's a shirt. If you need to put something on, here's a shirt. You're dressing up and you need to look nice; let's look through the closet and see what's in the closet. We aren't even thinking about "my" shirt or "your" shirt but "the" shirt that happens to be there. You can "have" it--the "have" that means "hold" or "use," not the "have" that means "own" or "possess" or "want payment for" or "want back."
If we could all do this consistently, the world would be a better place, but still communism doesn't work.
Well, this isn't communism. Forcing people to share only works as discipline and training for caritas, not a replacement for caritas itself. If it is not free, it is not love.
(Additionally, when you base your institution on atheism, you're going to have very serious problems. Even if you don't believe in God, even a cursory glance at human history will tell you that human nature desires God, and common sense should tell you that that's not a strategic desire to stifle.)
I remember my mom relating to me something she heard from a priest: the best gift you can give your child is another sibling.
Is that true?
Heck yes.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
what I learned over break
Jon says I make too many lists.
I forgot I was going to post this - stumbled across it the other day.
I forgot I was going to post this - stumbled across it the other day.
- when the hammer slams onto the left side of the lid of the can of polyurethane, the right side of the lid pops up
- polyurethane leaks through cardboard
- nail polish remover and a knife will get most of the polyurethane off the table
- polyurethane obeys the laws of gravity and will be thicker on one side if it's not on a level surface
- it's higher, not lower, on the side the little bubble is on
- if you want the little bubble to go to the middle, put something under the side the little bubble is not on. i think. wait... yeah, that's right
- if the floor is more level than the table and you want the polyurethane to be even, put the piece of wood on the floor, not the table.
- if you put the piece of wood on the floor, it's a good idea to put it in a place where it's not likely to be walked on, e.g., under a desk.
- if the area under the desk is not well-lit, the lamp on top of the desk can be moved under the desk to light up the area under the desk.
- if the lamp is not giving off enough light, the lampshade can be adjusted.
- if the lampshade is resting directly on the lightbulb and you smell something that isn't polyurethane, the lampshade might have a permanent scald mark.
- permanent scald marks can be hidden by turning the lampshade 180 degrees and not telling your mother.
- paint thinner will not ruin jeans, but asking ahead of time was a good idea. a better idea would be not to kneel on the polyurethane in the first place
- when someone tells you to wash the paintbrushes out with paint thinner, they mean to rinse them with paint thinner then rinse them with water, not leave them to soak in the paint thinner for several days
- when you take out the insignia red enamel paint and your dad tells you “be careful,” he doesn’t mean “it won’t come out of your clothing” but “water doesn’t get enamel paint out of anything”
- insignia red enamel paint does indeed come out of the kitchen sink, but I don’t have any idea how.
- “peerless” means “without a peer,” as in, “without equal.” if a pig is called a “peerless sow,” it is less embarrassing to look in the dictionary than to ask your friend who loves his pigs. in fact it will probably be more efficient to look in the dictionary, because your pig-farmer friend will probably assume that “sow” is the part you don’t understand, when of course you do know what a sow is, but don’t know what peerless means.
- JB Weld lasts about six months.
- when you get ridiculous amounts of snow, then a bunch of rain that melts the snow, running in the rain and mist of evaporating snow feels like drowning. treadmills are still worse.
- you don't need to drink to be just as merry as everyone else
- everyone needs to dance
what was missing between lunch and dinner yesterday
I've always thought it a little selfish (and it probably isn't) when men think women's beauty is all about them. Sure, we use our beauty to impress men, but I don't think that's its primary purpose. We want to be beautiful, whether men think we are or not. We were created perfectly beautiful and it's etched into our hearts that beautiful is who we were meant to be. When a mildly-to-severely insecure woman tells her boyfriend "I'm ugly," she isn't saying "you probably don't love me" but "I fail at being who I'm supposed to be. I fail as a woman." The proper response, therefore, is not "I love you even if you're ugly" (i.e., "your failure is okay with me") but "That's utter nonsense. You are totally beautiful" (i.e., "you are not a failure"). If she is thinking that his love for her is riding on her beauty, this is only secondary -- and she is thinking him to be a very shallow man.
I tried to explain this to a male friend yesterday. Hoping to turn an example into an analogy, I asked what he does to impress women. It took him a long time to think of something, but finally he told me about dressing in a way that makes his body look better and not showing pain. I did my best to turn those into analogies, but it didn't work. I brought up strength--flex your biceps to attract women, but the primary purpose of strength is an ability to do things, right? That example didn't seem to sit right with him.
I know why, now. It was a bad question, not aimed appropriately. The correct answer to my question--what do men do to impress women?--was competition.
Elsewhere in the conversation, I tried to explain to him that second place isn't really any less attractive than first place, that there isn't really any difference between a 5:28 and a 5:30 mile. He told me it's ingrained in men's heads that second place is first loser. For some reason, irrelevant to how women see them, they want to be the strongest, the fastest, etc.
I didn't understand it until I made the connection with beauty. I think it's fair to say that men compete (strength, speed, intelligence, whatever it is) to attract women, but that attracting women isn't the primary reason for competing. Similarly, women make ourselves beautiful to attract men, but attracting men isn't the primary reason for our beauty.
I think that makes sense. I'll have to ask him about it.
I tried to explain this to a male friend yesterday. Hoping to turn an example into an analogy, I asked what he does to impress women. It took him a long time to think of something, but finally he told me about dressing in a way that makes his body look better and not showing pain. I did my best to turn those into analogies, but it didn't work. I brought up strength--flex your biceps to attract women, but the primary purpose of strength is an ability to do things, right? That example didn't seem to sit right with him.
I know why, now. It was a bad question, not aimed appropriately. The correct answer to my question--what do men do to impress women?--was competition.
Elsewhere in the conversation, I tried to explain to him that second place isn't really any less attractive than first place, that there isn't really any difference between a 5:28 and a 5:30 mile. He told me it's ingrained in men's heads that second place is first loser. For some reason, irrelevant to how women see them, they want to be the strongest, the fastest, etc.
I didn't understand it until I made the connection with beauty. I think it's fair to say that men compete (strength, speed, intelligence, whatever it is) to attract women, but that attracting women isn't the primary reason for competing. Similarly, women make ourselves beautiful to attract men, but attracting men isn't the primary reason for our beauty.
I think that makes sense. I'll have to ask him about it.
Friday, January 16, 2009
less organized thoughts from today
I've noticed that men often don't like to give an indication that they've heard, or that they've seen, or that they've been informed. Resulting, women tend to remind men of things they haven't forgotten. Women often complain that men don't listen, and I wonder how much of that is actually not listening and how much is just acting like they're not listening.
I found a list of things I learned over break that I had intended to post. I plan to get around to that today or tomorrow - when I get it sorted out I'll post it.
These dealies are pretty cool. My grandma made them by soldering pieces of glass together, but I don't know where the glass would come from. Smashing bottles is fun, but we'd need different color glass, or paint.
I found a list of things I learned over break that I had intended to post. I plan to get around to that today or tomorrow - when I get it sorted out I'll post it.
These dealies are pretty cool. My grandma made them by soldering pieces of glass together, but I don't know where the glass would come from. Smashing bottles is fun, but we'd need different color glass, or paint.
Monday, January 12, 2009
RIP...me?
found here
The funny thing is that I almost went to college in Steubenville.
POSTED: January 10, 2009
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PETRIDES, Mary, 84, of Steubenville, Ohio, died Thursday, January 8, 2009, in Valley Hospice North.
She was born January 20, 1924, in Steubenville, a daughter of the late Michael and Angela Manidou Cottis.
Mary was a very active member of Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church; Philoptochos Society (charter member); Agia Markella Society; Daughters of Penelope; and Chian Society.
Preceding Mary in death were her two brothers, William and Gus Cottis; and two sisters, Gladys Pappas and Argie Therianos.
Mary is survived by her husband of 68 years, Savas "Sam" D. Petrides, whom she married on August 25, 1940; four children, James S. Petrides, and his daughter, Anna Maria; Very Rev. Michael S. Petrides and his wife, Eleni, and their son, Sammy; Angela S. Mahfood and her husband, Dr. Richard, and their children, Anthony (wife Tracy) Mahfood and Maria (husband Nick) Terezis; and Tsambika Cucuras and her husband, Charles, and their daughters, Maria and Evangelia Cucuras; and two great-grandchildren, Ava Tsambika Terezis and Sophia Savas Mahfood.
Friends may call at Dunlope-Shorac Funeral Home on Sunday 1-4 and 6-8 p.m.
On Monday friends may call from 10 a.m. until time of services at 11 a.m. at Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church with the Rev. Nicholas Halkias officiating.
Burial in Union Cemetery.
Trisagion services 7 p.m. Sunday.
Memorials may be directed to Holy Trinity Greek Church, 300 S. Fourth Street, Steubenville, OH 43952.
Offer condolences at www.shorac.com
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The funny thing is that I almost went to college in Steubenville.
POSTED: January 10, 2009
Save | Print | Email | Read comments | Post a comment
PETRIDES, Mary, 84, of Steubenville, Ohio, died Thursday, January 8, 2009, in Valley Hospice North.
She was born January 20, 1924, in Steubenville, a daughter of the late Michael and Angela Manidou Cottis.
Mary was a very active member of Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church; Philoptochos Society (charter member); Agia Markella Society; Daughters of Penelope; and Chian Society.
Preceding Mary in death were her two brothers, William and Gus Cottis; and two sisters, Gladys Pappas and Argie Therianos.
Mary is survived by her husband of 68 years, Savas "Sam" D. Petrides, whom she married on August 25, 1940; four children, James S. Petrides, and his daughter, Anna Maria; Very Rev. Michael S. Petrides and his wife, Eleni, and their son, Sammy; Angela S. Mahfood and her husband, Dr. Richard, and their children, Anthony (wife Tracy) Mahfood and Maria (husband Nick) Terezis; and Tsambika Cucuras and her husband, Charles, and their daughters, Maria and Evangelia Cucuras; and two great-grandchildren, Ava Tsambika Terezis and Sophia Savas Mahfood.
Friends may call at Dunlope-Shorac Funeral Home on Sunday 1-4 and 6-8 p.m.
On Monday friends may call from 10 a.m. until time of services at 11 a.m. at Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church with the Rev. Nicholas Halkias officiating.
Burial in Union Cemetery.
Trisagion services 7 p.m. Sunday.
Memorials may be directed to Holy Trinity Greek Church, 300 S. Fourth Street, Steubenville, OH 43952.
Offer condolences at www.shorac.com
Subscribe to The Herald-Star
transition
Yesterday, I
woke up 10 minutes before my alarm in the boys' room. showered. put my stuff in the car. ate breakfast. rode to ann arbor. went to mass. ate lunch at a coney island with clements. rode to hillsdale. hugged some hello. hugged parents and sister goodbye. sent some boxes home. rejoiced. hugged some hello. made pancakes. talked with garrett. went to rosary. kept a secret. went to bed. woke up to a seven-minute door alarm. wrapped the icon for garrett. fell alseep.
Yesterday, for hello, at least 4 tacklehugs and 7 regular hugs.
Today, I
woke up 15 minutes before my alarm. brushed my teeth. threw on some clothes. pr-ed a mile by almost a minute. gave garrett the icon. showered. registered. hugged garrett. bought books. talked. made a delivery. got books from calvin. carried my books, maddie's books, and amanda's books to benzing. got a few things done.
Prediction. Today, for hello, 2 tacklehugs and 1 regular hug.
then everyone will be here.
woke up 10 minutes before my alarm in the boys' room. showered. put my stuff in the car. ate breakfast. rode to ann arbor. went to mass. ate lunch at a coney island with clements. rode to hillsdale. hugged some hello. hugged parents and sister goodbye. sent some boxes home. rejoiced. hugged some hello. made pancakes. talked with garrett. went to rosary. kept a secret. went to bed. woke up to a seven-minute door alarm. wrapped the icon for garrett. fell alseep.
Yesterday, for hello, at least 4 tacklehugs and 7 regular hugs.
Today, I
woke up 15 minutes before my alarm. brushed my teeth. threw on some clothes. pr-ed a mile by almost a minute. gave garrett the icon. showered. registered. hugged garrett. bought books. talked. made a delivery. got books from calvin. carried my books, maddie's books, and amanda's books to benzing. got a few things done.
Prediction. Today, for hello, 2 tacklehugs and 1 regular hug.
then everyone will be here.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
the desires of your heart
What is the deepest desire of my heart?
I desire lots of things: a backpacking trip up north, a Newberry medal, a copy of Escanaba in da Moonlight, incense, a back rub, to hear Seth laugh, to do something heroic, fluency in Croatian, patience, long hair, clothing that doesn't make me look lopsided (or maybe not to be lopsided), strength, friends, to get rid of that stupid turtle tile that nobody wants, men, wool socks, to go climbing, a Mary Poppins bag, flannel sheets, chocolate chip cookies, for the people I love to be happy.
But what desire is deepest?
I desire a man who can stand up for me, one who has the strength and courage to fight for me when it really matters. A man I can trust completely with everything. A man whose manliness and masculinity are ingrained in him enough that he doesn't have to prove anything (kind of like how my ability to brush my teeth is so ingrained that I don't even have to think about it; it's just there and I don't feel any need to show it off, but I also know that it's very important). A man who is strong in every way -- physically, emotionally, character-ly, etc. A man who is neither violent nor passive. A man who is completely honest about everything. A man who listens to me and processes what I say, who notices when I'm feeling glum even if I don't say anything about it, a man who doesn't just pretend to listen. A man who isn't just looking for sex and doesn't try to sweet-talk me into anything. A man who has common sense and a good head on his shoulders. A man who treats everyone well, not just the girl he wants to date. A man who is strong, courageous, and confident. A man who keeps me safe from any real danger but knows that I'm not a teacup and I'm not going to shatter if I catch a football. A man who loves me unconditionally and is willing to die if that's what it takes to keep me safe. A man who can distinguish between who I am and what I do, who, when I apologize, can say "you were wrong, and you hurt me deeply, but I love you and I want you so I will forgive you."
My deepest desire is for Jesus. Read that paragraph again: is there anyone else who fits that? All men are like that to some degree, but I want a man who is like that entirely. Any guy I date better be pretty dang close, and the man I marry will be pretty dang close. But the only man who is like that entirely is Jesus, so my deepest desire must be for him.
It's true, but I don't think anyone ever taught me that. I was taught to follow Jesus and to obey him. To love God with all my heart, mind, soul, etc., to love my neighbor as myself, to obey my parents in the Lord for this is right, not to steal, not to lie (for satan is the father of lies), to pray to our Father who art in heaven that he will lead me away from temtation and deliver me from evil, to respect and obey the authority he gave to Peter and his successors. I was taught to follow Jesus, but nobody ever taught me that this was the deepest desire of my heart. I looked into my heart and found this to be true.
As long as I stay grounded in him, I will be fulfilled. "He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him," he said (John 6:56). How can I be any more fulfilled than to abide in Christ and to have him abide in me? God is inside me--that's pretty dang full.
And pretty dang free. He doesn't make up rules to put us in a box. The rules are for our own safety. If you tear down the railing you have to worry about falling over the edge and dying; if you put up a railing you can dance to your heart's content.
When people focus on "what do I want?" they turn into Hitler, Mussolini, Slobodon Milosevic, Stalin, Nero, Saddam Hussein, Merckle--and really, don't they all look pretty much the same? "I'm going to do everything to get what I want--kill people if I have to, make gobs of money if I have to. People will get upset and kill me, else I'll realize that it's all futile anyway and I'll take care of it myself."
When people focus on "what does God want?" they have the freedom to be themselves. Look at the saints. Thomas More, Lord Chancellor of England and friend of the king. Francis of Assisi, who gave up his wealth and founded a religious order. Joan of Arc, war hero. Monica, nagging mother. Thomas Aquinas, genius scholar. Teresa of Avila, mystic. Therese of Lisiux, suffering Carmelite. Isaac Jogues, who went overseas at least twice and was tortured a couple times. Isidore, farmer. Elizabeth Ann Seton, teacher, founded parochial school system in America. They aren't saints because of their intelligence or poverty or virginity or because they founded something or other. They're saints because they did what God asked.
When you are rooted in Jesus you have the freedom to be yourself. No one else knows you as well as he does--he made you!--so no one else can really allow you to be yourself the way he can. Fall back on him always. He is the deepest desire of your heart and will take you on the craziest adventures if you let him. You must be ready and willing to let him lead you or you will not be happy.
I desire lots of things: a backpacking trip up north, a Newberry medal, a copy of Escanaba in da Moonlight, incense, a back rub, to hear Seth laugh, to do something heroic, fluency in Croatian, patience, long hair, clothing that doesn't make me look lopsided (or maybe not to be lopsided), strength, friends, to get rid of that stupid turtle tile that nobody wants, men, wool socks, to go climbing, a Mary Poppins bag, flannel sheets, chocolate chip cookies, for the people I love to be happy.
But what desire is deepest?
I desire a man who can stand up for me, one who has the strength and courage to fight for me when it really matters. A man I can trust completely with everything. A man whose manliness and masculinity are ingrained in him enough that he doesn't have to prove anything (kind of like how my ability to brush my teeth is so ingrained that I don't even have to think about it; it's just there and I don't feel any need to show it off, but I also know that it's very important). A man who is strong in every way -- physically, emotionally, character-ly, etc. A man who is neither violent nor passive. A man who is completely honest about everything. A man who listens to me and processes what I say, who notices when I'm feeling glum even if I don't say anything about it, a man who doesn't just pretend to listen. A man who isn't just looking for sex and doesn't try to sweet-talk me into anything. A man who has common sense and a good head on his shoulders. A man who treats everyone well, not just the girl he wants to date. A man who is strong, courageous, and confident. A man who keeps me safe from any real danger but knows that I'm not a teacup and I'm not going to shatter if I catch a football. A man who loves me unconditionally and is willing to die if that's what it takes to keep me safe. A man who can distinguish between who I am and what I do, who, when I apologize, can say "you were wrong, and you hurt me deeply, but I love you and I want you so I will forgive you."
My deepest desire is for Jesus. Read that paragraph again: is there anyone else who fits that? All men are like that to some degree, but I want a man who is like that entirely. Any guy I date better be pretty dang close, and the man I marry will be pretty dang close. But the only man who is like that entirely is Jesus, so my deepest desire must be for him.
It's true, but I don't think anyone ever taught me that. I was taught to follow Jesus and to obey him. To love God with all my heart, mind, soul, etc., to love my neighbor as myself, to obey my parents in the Lord for this is right, not to steal, not to lie (for satan is the father of lies), to pray to our Father who art in heaven that he will lead me away from temtation and deliver me from evil, to respect and obey the authority he gave to Peter and his successors. I was taught to follow Jesus, but nobody ever taught me that this was the deepest desire of my heart. I looked into my heart and found this to be true.
As long as I stay grounded in him, I will be fulfilled. "He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him," he said (John 6:56). How can I be any more fulfilled than to abide in Christ and to have him abide in me? God is inside me--that's pretty dang full.
And pretty dang free. He doesn't make up rules to put us in a box. The rules are for our own safety. If you tear down the railing you have to worry about falling over the edge and dying; if you put up a railing you can dance to your heart's content.
When people focus on "what do I want?" they turn into Hitler, Mussolini, Slobodon Milosevic, Stalin, Nero, Saddam Hussein, Merckle--and really, don't they all look pretty much the same? "I'm going to do everything to get what I want--kill people if I have to, make gobs of money if I have to. People will get upset and kill me, else I'll realize that it's all futile anyway and I'll take care of it myself."
When people focus on "what does God want?" they have the freedom to be themselves. Look at the saints. Thomas More, Lord Chancellor of England and friend of the king. Francis of Assisi, who gave up his wealth and founded a religious order. Joan of Arc, war hero. Monica, nagging mother. Thomas Aquinas, genius scholar. Teresa of Avila, mystic. Therese of Lisiux, suffering Carmelite. Isaac Jogues, who went overseas at least twice and was tortured a couple times. Isidore, farmer. Elizabeth Ann Seton, teacher, founded parochial school system in America. They aren't saints because of their intelligence or poverty or virginity or because they founded something or other. They're saints because they did what God asked.
When you are rooted in Jesus you have the freedom to be yourself. No one else knows you as well as he does--he made you!--so no one else can really allow you to be yourself the way he can. Fall back on him always. He is the deepest desire of your heart and will take you on the craziest adventures if you let him. You must be ready and willing to let him lead you or you will not be happy.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
love of chrema
For the love of money is the root of all evils; it is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced their hearts with many pangs. 1 Tim. 6:10
I haven't read the NT in Greek, and I'm no scholar, having had only one semester of the language. Seth tells me the word translated money is the Greek chrema, which I remember from C&P to mean thing in the singular and things or money in the plural. An alternative--and perhaps better--translation, then, would be "love of things is the root of all evils." (Thanks, Seth, for pointing this out.)
I believe it.
Let him be the rote and grounde of alle your blysse (Pearl, 420), and all will be well.
I haven't read the NT in Greek, and I'm no scholar, having had only one semester of the language. Seth tells me the word translated money is the Greek chrema, which I remember from C&P to mean thing in the singular and things or money in the plural. An alternative--and perhaps better--translation, then, would be "love of things is the root of all evils." (Thanks, Seth, for pointing this out.)
I believe it.
Let him be the rote and grounde of alle your blysse (Pearl, 420), and all will be well.
Monday, January 5, 2009
this is just fun
I used Steven Pinker's The Language Instinct: How the Mind Creates Language as a reference for my research paper or my science fair project (or maybe both) in eighth grade and have been meaning to actually read the thing ever since. I finished Exodus; Leviticus; Bud, Not Buddy; Caddie Woodlawn; and All Creatures Great and Small. Numbers intimidated me and I didn't really want to read Everlasting Man. So I started The Language Instinct.
Here are some fun things I found:
George Bernard Shaw complained that fish could just as sensibly be spelled ghoti (gh as in tough, o as in women, ti as in nation).
Chomsky: colorless green ideas sleep furiously
About the Kivunjo language: "The Kivunjo construction fits entirely inside the verb, which has seven prefixes and suffixes, two moods, and fourteen tenses; the verb agrees with its subject, its object, and its benefactive nouns, each of which come in sixteen genders."
Cherokee pronouns can distinguish between "you and I," "another person and I," "several other people and I," "you, one or more other persons, and I" -- and in English, it's "us" or "we."
"He walks" = "as solitary masculinity, leggedness proceeds."
Newspaper headlines:
Second guy: I don't know. What was her maiden name?
These apparently also appeared in newspapers:
The comedian Dick Gregory tells of walking up to a lunch counter in Mississippi during the days of racial segregation. The waitress said to him, "We don't serve colored people." "That's fine," he replied, "I don't eat colored people. I'd like a piece of chicken."
How old Cary Grant?
Old Cary Grant fine.
More newspaper headlines:
Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sightseeren keepen das cottenpickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
In Boston there is an old joke about a woman who landed at Logan Airport and asked the taxi driver, "Can you take me someplace where I can get scrod?" He replied, "Gee, that's the first time I've heahrd it in the pluperfect subjunctive!"
That's all I've got for now--I haven't finished the book yet. If you want more, go read it yourself.
Here are some fun things I found:
George Bernard Shaw complained that fish could just as sensibly be spelled ghoti (gh as in tough, o as in women, ti as in nation).
Chomsky: colorless green ideas sleep furiously
About the Kivunjo language: "The Kivunjo construction fits entirely inside the verb, which has seven prefixes and suffixes, two moods, and fourteen tenses; the verb agrees with its subject, its object, and its benefactive nouns, each of which come in sixteen genders."
Cherokee pronouns can distinguish between "you and I," "another person and I," "several other people and I," "you, one or more other persons, and I" -- and in English, it's "us" or "we."
"He walks" = "as solitary masculinity, leggedness proceeds."
Newspaper headlines:
- Child's Stool Great for Use in Garden
- Stud Tires Out
- Stiff Opposition Expected to Casketless Funeral Plan
- Drunk Gets Nine Months in Violin Case
- Iraqi Head Seeks Arms
- Queen Mary Having Bottom Scraped
- Columnist Gets Urologist in Trouble with His Peers
Second guy: I don't know. What was her maiden name?
These apparently also appeared in newspapers:
- Yoko Ono will talk about her husband John Lennon who was killed in an interview with Barbara Walters.
- Two cars were reported stolen by the Groveton police yesterday.
- The license fee for altered dogs with a certificate will be $3 and for pets owned by senior citizens who have not been altered the fee will be $1.50.
- Tonight's program discusses stress, exercise, nutrition, and sex with Celtic forward Scott Wedman, Dr. Ruth Westheimer, and Dick Cavett.
- We will sell gasoline to anyone in a glass container.
- For sale: mixing bowl set designed to please a cook with round bottom for efficient beating.
The comedian Dick Gregory tells of walking up to a lunch counter in Mississippi during the days of racial segregation. The waitress said to him, "We don't serve colored people." "That's fine," he replied, "I don't eat colored people. I'd like a piece of chicken."
How old Cary Grant?
Old Cary Grant fine.
More newspaper headlines:
- New Housing for Elderly Not Yet Dead
- New Missouri U. Chancellor Expects Little Sex
- 12 on Their Way to Cruise Among Dead in Plane Crash
- N.J. Judge to Rule on Nude Beach
- Chou Remains Cremated
- Chinese Apeman Dated
- Hershey Bars Protest
- Reagen Wins on Budget, But More Lies Ahead
- Deer Kill 130,000
- Complaints About NBA Referees Growing Ugly
- Squad Helps Dog Bite Victim
- Man Eating Piranha Mistakenly Sold as Pet Fish
- Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sightseeren keepen das cottenpickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
In Boston there is an old joke about a woman who landed at Logan Airport and asked the taxi driver, "Can you take me someplace where I can get scrod?" He replied, "Gee, that's the first time I've heahrd it in the pluperfect subjunctive!"
That's all I've got for now--I haven't finished the book yet. If you want more, go read it yourself.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
(faith)
The worst thing was that I did it. The best thing was that he forgave me (like always). The weird thing is that he hates the stupid stuff I do but somehow manages to love me always. I love him.
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