Having a sick child forces one to look in the mirror and recognize: you can't change anything. Oh, one can feel, one can think, one can act, but one can't force a sickness not to be. One can't take it into custody or beat it into submission by sheer force of will. At least, not typically, right? Even if we'd all wish such were possible.
I dislike feeling powerless.
I hate watching my kid cry as the doctor prods him and he screams remembering this particular woman drew blood from his ears the last time while exercising her poor bedside manner. "This hard wax will soften with application of warm water or olive oil," she said with a smile as she scraped his soft skin till it bled. I wonder why she didn't offer to soften up his ear wax before digging in herself?
Now Hunter knows her face and screams when she gets near.
Yesterday he shook in my arms as she examined him. No ear scraping, but he remembers and the simple ear check shook him. And what did years of medical training conclude was at cause for his fever, rash and month long repetition of the same: keep a journal so we have more info.
Today: Hospital.
I've taken my kid to the hospital more times than I care to count and most of the time staff are helpful. Our recent experiences with clinicians have been less than satisfying. He's run a minor fever several times a week for a month, had a persistent rash and is out of sorts--but they don't have an explanation.
No he has a lump near his thyroid. It probably isn't anything related to his thyroid but he's a year old.
Why a lump?
They took an ultra-sound, x-rays and smiled. "Look at my friends," said the ultra-sound tech as she ran her hands through the hanging Winnie-the-pooh and friends stuffed animals dangling from her ceiling. A nice touch, but while looking at the swinging toys seemed to interest my son, I wanted more than a smile. But answers don't come from the ultra-sound tech.
I dislike how the system works: take a number, get in line, wait to see your doctor later. Yeah, that's right: the doctor who sent you to get the tests done doesn't see you on the same day, or week you get the tests done. That would make too much sense.
Waiting...
Wait some more and by the way, yeah, if they don't know after their standard tests, the answer is simple: "Babies get diaper rash, get fussy and its probably that 'bug' going round."
There are many ways to tell a parent softly they're a little over cautious, but I don't appreciate any of them, particularly when that isn't the case. My kid is sick. Often. Why?
I wish I knew.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Bad Bauer
I enjoy watching the TV series 24. It isn't something one can recommend, very violent, very aggressive lots of tension. Its not for the faint of heart. The show's main attraction is the protagonist: he is very heroic.
However, I am sad to report that the most recent episode has killed, for me, any interest in watching further.
Why?
Bad writing. I HATE it when a character is killed without need. So many other people make it through terrible circumstances on the show and they decide to kill a particular character for dramatic effect. Very immature writing.
Who got 'Jacked?' Jack got 'Jacked'.
This is the last season and I guess they want to go off on a sour note. Jack has always been a tragic hero and I thought for one moment they would let him be happy. Guess not.
Josh
However, I am sad to report that the most recent episode has killed, for me, any interest in watching further.
Why?
Bad writing. I HATE it when a character is killed without need. So many other people make it through terrible circumstances on the show and they decide to kill a particular character for dramatic effect. Very immature writing.
Who got 'Jacked?' Jack got 'Jacked'.
This is the last season and I guess they want to go off on a sour note. Jack has always been a tragic hero and I thought for one moment they would let him be happy. Guess not.
Josh
Saturday, April 10, 2010
A greater hymnist than most: Anne Steele
“Redeeming Love” by Anne Steele
Come heavenly love, inspire my song With thy immortal flame,
And teach my heart, and teach my tongue The Savior’s lovely name.
The Savior! 0 what endless charms Dwell in the blissful sound!
Its influence every fear disarms, And spreads sweet comfort round.
Here pardon, life, and joys divine In rich effusion flow,
For guilty rebels lost in sin, And doomed to endless woe.
In our first parent's crime we fell; Our blood, our vital breath,
Deep tinged with all the seeds of ill, Sad heirs to sin and death.
Black o’er our wrath-devoted heads Avenging justice frowned
While hell disclosed her deepest shades And horrors rose around.
Wrapt in the gloom of dark despair, We helpless, hopeless lay:
But sovereign mercy reached us there, And smiled despair away.
God’s only son, (stupendous grace!) Forsook his throne above;
And swift to save our wretched race, He flew on wings of love.
Th’ Almighty former of the skies Stooped to our vile abode;
While angels viewed with wondering eyes, And hailed the incarnate God.
The God in heavenly strains they sung, Arrayed in human clay:
Mysterious love! what angel tongue Thy wonders can display?
Mysterious love, in every scene, Through all his life appears:
His spotless life exposed to pain, And miseries and tears.
What blessings on a thankless race? His bounteous hand bestowed!
And from his tongue what wondrous grace, What rich instruction flowed!
The dumb, the deaf, the lame, the blind Confessed his healing power;
Disease and death their prey resigned, And grief complained no more.
Infernal legions trembling fled, Awed by his powerful word;
And winds and seas his voice obeyed, And owned their sovereign Lord.
But man, vile man, his love abused Blind to the noblest good
Blasphemed his power, his word refused, And sought his sacred blood.
Still his unwearied love pursued Salvation’s glorious plan;
And firm the approaching horrors viewed Deserved by guilty man.
What pain, what soul-oppressing pain, The great Redeemer bore;
While bloody sweat, like drops of rain, Distilled from every pore!
And ere the dreadful storm descends Full on his guiltless head,
See him by his familiar friends Deserted and betrayed!
While ruffian bands the Lord surround, Relentless, murderous foes;
Meek, as a lamb for slaughter bound, The patient sufferer goes
Arraigned at Pilate’s impious bar, (Unparralled disgrace!)
See spotless innocence appear In guilt’s detested place!
When perjury fails to stain his name, The mob’s envenomed breath
Extorts his sentence, “Public shame And painful lingering death.”
Patient, the cruel scourge he bore; The innocent, the kind!
Then to the rabble’s lawless power And rudest taunts consigned
With thorns they crown that awful brow,
Whose frown can shake the globe;
And on their king in scorn bestow The reed and purple robe.
Ah! see the fatal cross appears, Heart-wounding, dreadful scene
His sacred flesh rude iron tears, With agonizing pain.
Exposed with thieves, to public view Could nature bear the sight?
The blushing sun his beams withdrew, And wrapped the globe in night!
Then, Oh! what loads of wrath unknown The glorious sufferer felt;
For crimes unnumbered to atone, To expiate mortal guilt!
The Father’s blissful smile withdrawn, In that tremendous hour;
Yet still the God sustained the man With his almighty power,
“Tis finished,” now aloud he cries, “No more the law requires”
And now, (amazing sacrifice!) The Lord of life expires.
Earth’s firm foundation felt the shock, With universal dread;
Trembled the mountain, rent the rock, And waked the sleeping dead!
Now breathless in the silent tomb, His sacred body lies:
Thither his loved disciples come, With sorrow-streaming eyes.
But see the promised morn appear Their joy revives again;
The Savior lives; adieu to fear, To every anxious pain.
His kindest words their doubts remove, Confirm their wavering faith;
He bids them teach the world his love, Salvation by his death.
Triumphant he ascends on high, The glorious work complete
Sin, death, and hell, low vanquished lie Beneath his awful feet.
There, with eternal glory crowned, The Lord, the conqueror, reigns;
His praise the heavenly choirs resound In their immortal strains.
Amid the splendors of his throne, Unchanging love appears;
The names he purchased for his own, Still on his heart he bears
Still with prevailing power he pleads Their cause for whom he died;
His Spirit’s sacred influence sheds, Their comforter and guide.
For them, reserves a radiant crown, Bought with his dying blood;
And worlds of light, and joys unknown, For ever near their God.
0 the rich depths of love divine! Of bliss, a boundless store:
Dear Savior, let me call thee mine; I cannot wish for more.
I yield to thy dear conquering arms, I yield my captive soul:
0 let thy all-subduing charms My inmost powers control!
On thee alone my hope relies: Beneath thy cross I fall,
My Lord, my life, my sacrifice, My Savior and my all
Come heavenly love, inspire my song With thy immortal flame,
And teach my heart, and teach my tongue The Savior’s lovely name.
The Savior! 0 what endless charms Dwell in the blissful sound!
Its influence every fear disarms, And spreads sweet comfort round.
Here pardon, life, and joys divine In rich effusion flow,
For guilty rebels lost in sin, And doomed to endless woe.
In our first parent's crime we fell; Our blood, our vital breath,
Deep tinged with all the seeds of ill, Sad heirs to sin and death.
Black o’er our wrath-devoted heads Avenging justice frowned
While hell disclosed her deepest shades And horrors rose around.
Wrapt in the gloom of dark despair, We helpless, hopeless lay:
But sovereign mercy reached us there, And smiled despair away.
God’s only son, (stupendous grace!) Forsook his throne above;
And swift to save our wretched race, He flew on wings of love.
Th’ Almighty former of the skies Stooped to our vile abode;
While angels viewed with wondering eyes, And hailed the incarnate God.
The God in heavenly strains they sung, Arrayed in human clay:
Mysterious love! what angel tongue Thy wonders can display?
Mysterious love, in every scene, Through all his life appears:
His spotless life exposed to pain, And miseries and tears.
What blessings on a thankless race? His bounteous hand bestowed!
And from his tongue what wondrous grace, What rich instruction flowed!
The dumb, the deaf, the lame, the blind Confessed his healing power;
Disease and death their prey resigned, And grief complained no more.
Infernal legions trembling fled, Awed by his powerful word;
And winds and seas his voice obeyed, And owned their sovereign Lord.
But man, vile man, his love abused Blind to the noblest good
Blasphemed his power, his word refused, And sought his sacred blood.
Still his unwearied love pursued Salvation’s glorious plan;
And firm the approaching horrors viewed Deserved by guilty man.
What pain, what soul-oppressing pain, The great Redeemer bore;
While bloody sweat, like drops of rain, Distilled from every pore!
And ere the dreadful storm descends Full on his guiltless head,
See him by his familiar friends Deserted and betrayed!
While ruffian bands the Lord surround, Relentless, murderous foes;
Meek, as a lamb for slaughter bound, The patient sufferer goes
Arraigned at Pilate’s impious bar, (Unparralled disgrace!)
See spotless innocence appear In guilt’s detested place!
When perjury fails to stain his name, The mob’s envenomed breath
Extorts his sentence, “Public shame And painful lingering death.”
Patient, the cruel scourge he bore; The innocent, the kind!
Then to the rabble’s lawless power And rudest taunts consigned
With thorns they crown that awful brow,
Whose frown can shake the globe;
And on their king in scorn bestow The reed and purple robe.
Ah! see the fatal cross appears, Heart-wounding, dreadful scene
His sacred flesh rude iron tears, With agonizing pain.
Exposed with thieves, to public view Could nature bear the sight?
The blushing sun his beams withdrew, And wrapped the globe in night!
Then, Oh! what loads of wrath unknown The glorious sufferer felt;
For crimes unnumbered to atone, To expiate mortal guilt!
The Father’s blissful smile withdrawn, In that tremendous hour;
Yet still the God sustained the man With his almighty power,
“Tis finished,” now aloud he cries, “No more the law requires”
And now, (amazing sacrifice!) The Lord of life expires.
Earth’s firm foundation felt the shock, With universal dread;
Trembled the mountain, rent the rock, And waked the sleeping dead!
Now breathless in the silent tomb, His sacred body lies:
Thither his loved disciples come, With sorrow-streaming eyes.
But see the promised morn appear Their joy revives again;
The Savior lives; adieu to fear, To every anxious pain.
His kindest words their doubts remove, Confirm their wavering faith;
He bids them teach the world his love, Salvation by his death.
Triumphant he ascends on high, The glorious work complete
Sin, death, and hell, low vanquished lie Beneath his awful feet.
There, with eternal glory crowned, The Lord, the conqueror, reigns;
His praise the heavenly choirs resound In their immortal strains.
Amid the splendors of his throne, Unchanging love appears;
The names he purchased for his own, Still on his heart he bears
Still with prevailing power he pleads Their cause for whom he died;
His Spirit’s sacred influence sheds, Their comforter and guide.
For them, reserves a radiant crown, Bought with his dying blood;
And worlds of light, and joys unknown, For ever near their God.
0 the rich depths of love divine! Of bliss, a boundless store:
Dear Savior, let me call thee mine; I cannot wish for more.
I yield to thy dear conquering arms, I yield my captive soul:
0 let thy all-subduing charms My inmost powers control!
On thee alone my hope relies: Beneath thy cross I fall,
My Lord, my life, my sacrifice, My Savior and my all
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
A day that will last in infamy...
Hunter is growing, growing growing. The other day he managed to keep his feet when using the ottoman for support as he stood. He is eating so well now, gladly taking the spoon into his mouth with each of his two "solids" meals each day.
His hair is strawberry blonde and his eyes remain blue. Only time will tell if either of those will change.
Also, its been so many weeks since a blow out, a ramification, no doubt, of having eaten enough solids to pack his little intestine track with something serious to digest.
One of my favorite things is his attitude toward bathing. Hunter absolutely loves to bathe. Custom at this point has Hunter bathing each night after his evening meal. We've found bathing to be more pleasant and productive for him than a full body wipe down after wearing his food--what used to be the norm when we started solids.
Even though he's shifted to eating a good 80% of what comes on the spoon, he is a baby. What can you expect but smushed chicken and rice paste up the nose, in the hair, between every finger and covering the face?
Did I mention up the nose? Yes, you read that correctly--no need to read it again. Hunter snorted part of his meal tonight. But no worries grandparents, the little guy is fine. He gave it back later without complaint. He's good at sharing already.
Tonight bath time was running late. The whole of the evening was late, with Kim and I starving as a result. I fed the little guy, ran the water for his bath and got him cleaned enough for transport to the changing table for the standard strip search for the usual dirty diaper.
Thankful for the wet, dirty diaper, it was urine and a BM, I cleaned him up. Comforted by the fact he had went, I headed to the bathroom. Finding the water a little too hot, I got in and kept him above the surface while i ran som more cold.
To my surprise, Hunter decided to help out and started the yellow fountain.
I laughed and decided he had probably done that lots of times before. No harm--what kid doesn't pee in a pool at some point?
Kim came in a we shared a laugh at the situation, Hunter the all the while sitting calmly on my leg.
I tell you I got the water right tonight. It must have been body temperature because when Hunter pooped on my leg I felt nothing out of the ordinary.
It wasn't until I noted something dark and black sliding along the tub floor to my left that I realized with horror the pee was meerly a precursor of things to come.
Signs and portents came drifting my knee as I held him up and grimmaced at the evidence before our eyes.
Kim laughed and pointed as Hunter continued to relieve himself of more mass.
While Kim and I laughed, Hunter proved just how well developed his little bowls are.
His hair is strawberry blonde and his eyes remain blue. Only time will tell if either of those will change.
Also, its been so many weeks since a blow out, a ramification, no doubt, of having eaten enough solids to pack his little intestine track with something serious to digest.
One of my favorite things is his attitude toward bathing. Hunter absolutely loves to bathe. Custom at this point has Hunter bathing each night after his evening meal. We've found bathing to be more pleasant and productive for him than a full body wipe down after wearing his food--what used to be the norm when we started solids.
Even though he's shifted to eating a good 80% of what comes on the spoon, he is a baby. What can you expect but smushed chicken and rice paste up the nose, in the hair, between every finger and covering the face?
Did I mention up the nose? Yes, you read that correctly--no need to read it again. Hunter snorted part of his meal tonight. But no worries grandparents, the little guy is fine. He gave it back later without complaint. He's good at sharing already.
Tonight bath time was running late. The whole of the evening was late, with Kim and I starving as a result. I fed the little guy, ran the water for his bath and got him cleaned enough for transport to the changing table for the standard strip search for the usual dirty diaper.
Thankful for the wet, dirty diaper, it was urine and a BM, I cleaned him up. Comforted by the fact he had went, I headed to the bathroom. Finding the water a little too hot, I got in and kept him above the surface while i ran som more cold.
To my surprise, Hunter decided to help out and started the yellow fountain.
I laughed and decided he had probably done that lots of times before. No harm--what kid doesn't pee in a pool at some point?
Kim came in a we shared a laugh at the situation, Hunter the all the while sitting calmly on my leg.
I tell you I got the water right tonight. It must have been body temperature because when Hunter pooped on my leg I felt nothing out of the ordinary.
It wasn't until I noted something dark and black sliding along the tub floor to my left that I realized with horror the pee was meerly a precursor of things to come.
Signs and portents came drifting my knee as I held him up and grimmaced at the evidence before our eyes.
Kim laughed and pointed as Hunter continued to relieve himself of more mass.
While Kim and I laughed, Hunter proved just how well developed his little bowls are.
#2 Bath
Oh fatherhood
Has done me good
Blessed this Spring
With many a wonderous thing,
But never did I call
For yellow rain to fall
Nor the Hunter's dirt
My toes to skirt.
So it flows--
Drifting.
Draining.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Hunter's Stand
Today I made "daddy" history and gave Hunter his first chance (with me) to stand. I placed him near the couch and ottoman where the two pieces made a corner. His little hands reached out to grasp the Ottoman's top and I let go. He didn't fall people, that means he stood on his own power, if only for a moment.
He was unstable, naturally, so I did as any father should and gave a helping hand. I put my palm beneath his diapered butt and offered slight support as Hunter giggled and wobbled, his chubby knees quivering.
As I gave him the aid he needed to stand, an act he desires to do solo but can't, I was struck by the simularity between my life as a Christian and Hunter's attempt to become a baby who can stand. I desire holiness but can't attain it. I desire to be pure and righteous, but my best works and deeds are inadequite rags compared to the God's perfection. Yet, He enables me to strive, to find courage to stand after falling and faith. His Spirit gives all these things and goes one further, providing me a quickened heart, that beats out a rhythm, desiring God. Here the parallel breaks down as Hunter has a desire to stand all His own.
But, who designed Hunter to stand? I suppose the same individual who put the desire for the highest good in us each. Even as I write I'm struck by how even that has parallels to Hunter desiring to stand as for him, perhaps his percpetions are such that what he sees as the highest good today is to simply stand.
Thankfully, life doesn't have to be one long string of achievements waiting to be had, a never ending ladder who's purpose is as empty as the threat that it simply is. We are more than this, being fearfully and wonderfully made. I hope that I can help others see the unanswered longing deep down in thier bones has a satisfying answer. I hope I can offer it as one person in process to another, one imperfect, sinful human in desperate need to another.
He was unstable, naturally, so I did as any father should and gave a helping hand. I put my palm beneath his diapered butt and offered slight support as Hunter giggled and wobbled, his chubby knees quivering.
As I gave him the aid he needed to stand, an act he desires to do solo but can't, I was struck by the simularity between my life as a Christian and Hunter's attempt to become a baby who can stand. I desire holiness but can't attain it. I desire to be pure and righteous, but my best works and deeds are inadequite rags compared to the God's perfection. Yet, He enables me to strive, to find courage to stand after falling and faith. His Spirit gives all these things and goes one further, providing me a quickened heart, that beats out a rhythm, desiring God. Here the parallel breaks down as Hunter has a desire to stand all His own.
But, who designed Hunter to stand? I suppose the same individual who put the desire for the highest good in us each. Even as I write I'm struck by how even that has parallels to Hunter desiring to stand as for him, perhaps his percpetions are such that what he sees as the highest good today is to simply stand.
Thankfully, life doesn't have to be one long string of achievements waiting to be had, a never ending ladder who's purpose is as empty as the threat that it simply is. We are more than this, being fearfully and wonderfully made. I hope that I can help others see the unanswered longing deep down in thier bones has a satisfying answer. I hope I can offer it as one person in process to another, one imperfect, sinful human in desperate need to another.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Divine Design
Today, Kim and I had our sit-down with Dr. Douglas of Covenant Theological Seminary. He is the local guru on personality profiling and how a person's profile impacts thier compatibility with various types of work.
Sound interesting? I found it to be more than interesting as it was immensely helpful.
To start this process Kim and I both completed our own 80 page packet that allowed us to self examine and come out the other side with a description of our strenghts and weaknesses.
While much of my results weren't that surprising, some of the categories we had to look through opened my eyes to weaknesses I hadn't yet named as well as outlets for strengths I've been at a loss to use.
Thanks to the gift of technology, I was able to use my MAC laptop to record the entire 2.5 hour session.
Kim and I are almost the exact opposite, but apparently, we're in good company as many seminary couples bound for vocational ministry are in the same position. Apparently we compliment each other in our giftings. I am weak where Kim is strong so she is able to help me out when i get stuck and vice versa. The one problem is, such is not easy. Being so radically different in what drives us can make for challenges.
However, there are great things like this example:
One of my weeknesses is a loud internal critique of myself. I can see lots of possibilities, its a gift. Turned back on itself I can see lots of ways things can go wrong. This often drives me to work harder than I need to on something and expect the worse.
I did that Thursday when I told Kim I expected to fail my Greek quiz on Friday morning. The situation was simple, I had new vocab and new grammatical structure I was given 3 days to learn and hadn't studied it at all--I simply had too much to do and I chose to give way on greek, knowing I could catch up on the weekend. I figured I'd take a minor hit with a failed quiz and move on.
In any case, Friday morning came and I reiterated my emminant failure. Sure, I had studied the night before, but you can't put off the study of a second language and get away with it, particularly when its stuff that doesn't exist in your own language.
Well, I got a 100% on my quiz. Kim kindly exhorted me about my false expectations and warned she would laugh at me the next time I forecasted doom.
When she asked if I'd learned anything I replied "I suppose the Greek quiz wasn't as hard as I expected."
Her response was simple but good for me to hear: Maybe the reason is that I am good at learning Greek and didn't need to assume I would fail if I missed out on a study session or two because I could catch up quickly.
I felt rather silly. That's exactly what I did. I missed out on some study and I made it up.
Thanks Kim for keeping me grounded!
Sound interesting? I found it to be more than interesting as it was immensely helpful.
To start this process Kim and I both completed our own 80 page packet that allowed us to self examine and come out the other side with a description of our strenghts and weaknesses.
While much of my results weren't that surprising, some of the categories we had to look through opened my eyes to weaknesses I hadn't yet named as well as outlets for strengths I've been at a loss to use.
Thanks to the gift of technology, I was able to use my MAC laptop to record the entire 2.5 hour session.
Kim and I are almost the exact opposite, but apparently, we're in good company as many seminary couples bound for vocational ministry are in the same position. Apparently we compliment each other in our giftings. I am weak where Kim is strong so she is able to help me out when i get stuck and vice versa. The one problem is, such is not easy. Being so radically different in what drives us can make for challenges.
However, there are great things like this example:
One of my weeknesses is a loud internal critique of myself. I can see lots of possibilities, its a gift. Turned back on itself I can see lots of ways things can go wrong. This often drives me to work harder than I need to on something and expect the worse.
I did that Thursday when I told Kim I expected to fail my Greek quiz on Friday morning. The situation was simple, I had new vocab and new grammatical structure I was given 3 days to learn and hadn't studied it at all--I simply had too much to do and I chose to give way on greek, knowing I could catch up on the weekend. I figured I'd take a minor hit with a failed quiz and move on.
In any case, Friday morning came and I reiterated my emminant failure. Sure, I had studied the night before, but you can't put off the study of a second language and get away with it, particularly when its stuff that doesn't exist in your own language.
Well, I got a 100% on my quiz. Kim kindly exhorted me about my false expectations and warned she would laugh at me the next time I forecasted doom.
When she asked if I'd learned anything I replied "I suppose the Greek quiz wasn't as hard as I expected."
Her response was simple but good for me to hear: Maybe the reason is that I am good at learning Greek and didn't need to assume I would fail if I missed out on a study session or two because I could catch up quickly.
I felt rather silly. That's exactly what I did. I missed out on some study and I made it up.
Thanks Kim for keeping me grounded!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Its all Greek
The alarm cued the start of the morning and with a slap of the snooze function, my retreat back to restful bliss.
My first Greek class was coming up, first period of the morning. Sleeping was a better thing in my mind.
Beep Beep Beep!
Slap!
This repeated several more times until I rousted myseld and readied for the day's activities.
With much trepidation I jogged to Founder's Hall. Grabbing a gulp of water before venturing to room 245, I purposely situated myself in a mass of students because that is exactly opposite my normal routine.
Wanted to be different today.
The first lesson was simple: the difference and history of the words pedagogy and andragogy. The class is an andragogy course. Its for adults--the apparent difference between the two words that can mean "to teach" is that one has the connotation of being the teaching of children (peda) while the other is adults (andra) particularly adult males.
The male bit aside--the feminine sex is represented on the class roster--his point was well made: I won't hold your hand. I'll teach you and give you everything you need--even meet with you to explain things outside of class--but you must be your own advocate and motivator.
Good. Its nice to be treated like an adult.
So, with that in mind he skipped most of the syllabus, hitting only a few highlights and jumped into teaching us how to sing the Greek alphabeta. (ha).
I found myself having a good enough time but nervous nonetheless.
Particularly when I learned why our book wasn't the Mounce 'Basics of Greek Grammar.'
Our book was of the inductive style of learning, giving the student only enough to start then requiring them to learn by doing.
Mounce, a deductive text, gives you everything before you do anything.
I've always assumed I would be a deductive learner when it came to Greek. So it was that i left the class feeling that apprehension rise again.
Was I going to find my text book useless?
Would I need to drop the 40 bucks to get Mounce to understand my mandatory text?
Several hours later found me in the library basement, tucked away happily as a scribe of old--barring the tilted desk--pouring over my text.
Happy. No, giddy. I was giddy. Completely unexpected but I like learning Greek. So much so I found it refreshing. I had fun making up Mneumonic rules for the grammar paradigms. The one sad thing was the knowledge my good friend Kevin Reed would be loving it too and he isn't here.
So, while its too early to tell whether I really like the study of Koine Greek, I can say for certain it was a great first date even if she was a little dead.
Josh
My first Greek class was coming up, first period of the morning. Sleeping was a better thing in my mind.
Beep Beep Beep!
Slap!
This repeated several more times until I rousted myseld and readied for the day's activities.
With much trepidation I jogged to Founder's Hall. Grabbing a gulp of water before venturing to room 245, I purposely situated myself in a mass of students because that is exactly opposite my normal routine.
Wanted to be different today.
The first lesson was simple: the difference and history of the words pedagogy and andragogy. The class is an andragogy course. Its for adults--the apparent difference between the two words that can mean "to teach" is that one has the connotation of being the teaching of children (peda) while the other is adults (andra) particularly adult males.
The male bit aside--the feminine sex is represented on the class roster--his point was well made: I won't hold your hand. I'll teach you and give you everything you need--even meet with you to explain things outside of class--but you must be your own advocate and motivator.
Good. Its nice to be treated like an adult.
So, with that in mind he skipped most of the syllabus, hitting only a few highlights and jumped into teaching us how to sing the Greek alphabeta. (ha).
I found myself having a good enough time but nervous nonetheless.
Particularly when I learned why our book wasn't the Mounce 'Basics of Greek Grammar.'
Our book was of the inductive style of learning, giving the student only enough to start then requiring them to learn by doing.
Mounce, a deductive text, gives you everything before you do anything.
I've always assumed I would be a deductive learner when it came to Greek. So it was that i left the class feeling that apprehension rise again.
Was I going to find my text book useless?
Would I need to drop the 40 bucks to get Mounce to understand my mandatory text?
Several hours later found me in the library basement, tucked away happily as a scribe of old--barring the tilted desk--pouring over my text.
Happy. No, giddy. I was giddy. Completely unexpected but I like learning Greek. So much so I found it refreshing. I had fun making up Mneumonic rules for the grammar paradigms. The one sad thing was the knowledge my good friend Kevin Reed would be loving it too and he isn't here.
So, while its too early to tell whether I really like the study of Koine Greek, I can say for certain it was a great first date even if she was a little dead.
Josh
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Free Time: Waving Goodbye
I thought I might have some free time.
Today Kim and I went to the Covenant book store and purchased our texts for this semester.
300+ $'s later and two sacks of books, we departed, still short about 4-5 books, but having found the majority of our needs.
Many are 200-300 page Christian texts one would likely enjoy reading of an evening. Several are large hardback textbooks--intimidating things that speak of things opposite to the inspiring leasure of the first group.
The third was related to language studies. I bought my first Greek New testament--which I can't read.
My first lexicon--which I can't yet use.
And my first mini-grammar. I call it mini because it is not 300-500 pages long being more a feild guide than a full fledge exploration of the language.
Did you remmeber that basic western speech has 8 parts?
I didn't. Here they are:
Nomen (Noun)
Pronomen (Pronoun)
Verbum (Verb)
Adverbium (Adverb)
Participium (Participle)
Praepositio (Preposition)
Conjunctio (Conjuction)
Interjectio (Interjection)
Feeling out of my depth I had cracked my "Still Greek to Me" reader and learned that horrifying fact: My grammar is rusty as an iron spike at the bottom of Chesapeake bay.
I think I know what I'll be doing for my 'free time' in the next few months: Greek and Language studies.
Today Kim and I went to the Covenant book store and purchased our texts for this semester.
300+ $'s later and two sacks of books, we departed, still short about 4-5 books, but having found the majority of our needs.
Many are 200-300 page Christian texts one would likely enjoy reading of an evening. Several are large hardback textbooks--intimidating things that speak of things opposite to the inspiring leasure of the first group.
The third was related to language studies. I bought my first Greek New testament--which I can't read.
My first lexicon--which I can't yet use.
And my first mini-grammar. I call it mini because it is not 300-500 pages long being more a feild guide than a full fledge exploration of the language.
Did you remmeber that basic western speech has 8 parts?
I didn't. Here they are:
Nomen (Noun)
Pronomen (Pronoun)
Verbum (Verb)
Adverbium (Adverb)
Participium (Participle)
Praepositio (Preposition)
Conjunctio (Conjuction)
Interjectio (Interjection)
Feeling out of my depth I had cracked my "Still Greek to Me" reader and learned that horrifying fact: My grammar is rusty as an iron spike at the bottom of Chesapeake bay.
I think I know what I'll be doing for my 'free time' in the next few months: Greek and Language studies.
Orientation: 2 Curriculums
Class hasn't started yet but yesterday Kim and I had our first day of school at Covenant.
Orientation was very nice. Unlike undergrad, where the info is boring and perhaps useless to inane, the info and discussions were useful and challenging.
The purpose of the Orientation seemed two fold. One was a very effecient welcome and data delivery of needed topics.
The second was addressing preconceptions with a challenge that directed us to move toward a right mindset for our time here. Our hearts and our intentions were concerns--something I've taken for granted as this is a Seminary, but frankly had not ocnsidered how the execution of such care and concern would materialize.
We were told "Grades were not the point," personal and spiritual development was. Grades were real, they are par for the course, but there were two curriculums we must keep in mind at all times.
One you pay money for. You get a grade. Some professor(s) give assignments, teach and what not. The usual. The thing one sees.
The other is set by Christ, tailor made for each person. Addressing thier sin and pushing them out of thier comfort zone".
Since arriving I have found so many things about myself that need to change its been a little overwhelming at times, though not crushing. I am being shone daily things for which I need Christ's grace all the more.
While the first set start Thursday, I must confess I'm finding that second curriculums already started.
Josh
Orientation was very nice. Unlike undergrad, where the info is boring and perhaps useless to inane, the info and discussions were useful and challenging.
The purpose of the Orientation seemed two fold. One was a very effecient welcome and data delivery of needed topics.
The second was addressing preconceptions with a challenge that directed us to move toward a right mindset for our time here. Our hearts and our intentions were concerns--something I've taken for granted as this is a Seminary, but frankly had not ocnsidered how the execution of such care and concern would materialize.
We were told "Grades were not the point," personal and spiritual development was. Grades were real, they are par for the course, but there were two curriculums we must keep in mind at all times.
One you pay money for. You get a grade. Some professor(s) give assignments, teach and what not. The usual. The thing one sees.
The other is set by Christ, tailor made for each person. Addressing thier sin and pushing them out of thier comfort zone".
Since arriving I have found so many things about myself that need to change its been a little overwhelming at times, though not crushing. I am being shone daily things for which I need Christ's grace all the more.
While the first set start Thursday, I must confess I'm finding that second curriculums already started.
Josh
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Love x (30) = 17
17 Jan 2010
Today is the 884th day of the marriage of Kim and Josh Hammans. Not too long ago we celebrated the 17th of each month with a date.
The first year of our marriage I got Kim a piece of jewelry every month.
With Hunter in our lives and no job, we can’t afford such extravagance, however it is still nice to do something for our special day.
Today we went to church, watched a football game at a sports bar and went shopping before retiring to watch TV.
I don’t feel that counts for something romantic but it was good. Life with Kim is good.
Here is something for romance:
Kim, you are my best friend.
You care for me more than anyone.
You’re better than I deserve.
I enjoy the role reversal, the green chilies and a house well decorated.
Your sports fanaticism is fun.
Thanks for teaching me cool stuff like the rules for football and explaining why baseball isn’t boring. I still don’t believe you, but thanks. Go Cubs…
I’m proud of you, my Proverbs 31 woman and blessed to have you as my wife.
Thanks for being a great mother to Hunter.
He is a happy baby and without you, it wouldn’t be so.
I love your smile.
He gets his infectious smile from you.
Happy 17th, baby; it’s our 30th.
Fun with Math:
We’ve been married
~76,377,600 seconds
~1,272,960 minutes
~21,216 hours
~126 weeks
Sweet…
Today is the 884th day of the marriage of Kim and Josh Hammans. Not too long ago we celebrated the 17th of each month with a date.
The first year of our marriage I got Kim a piece of jewelry every month.
With Hunter in our lives and no job, we can’t afford such extravagance, however it is still nice to do something for our special day.
Today we went to church, watched a football game at a sports bar and went shopping before retiring to watch TV.
I don’t feel that counts for something romantic but it was good. Life with Kim is good.
Here is something for romance:
Kim, you are my best friend.
You care for me more than anyone.
You’re better than I deserve.
I enjoy the role reversal, the green chilies and a house well decorated.
Your sports fanaticism is fun.
Thanks for teaching me cool stuff like the rules for football and explaining why baseball isn’t boring. I still don’t believe you, but thanks. Go Cubs…
I’m proud of you, my Proverbs 31 woman and blessed to have you as my wife.
Thanks for being a great mother to Hunter.
He is a happy baby and without you, it wouldn’t be so.
I love your smile.
He gets his infectious smile from you.
Happy 17th, baby; it’s our 30th.
Fun with Math:
We’ve been married
~76,377,600 seconds
~1,272,960 minutes
~21,216 hours
~126 weeks
Sweet…
Get Jack'd
24
So far I enjoy how the writing is allowing Jack’s character to be blunt with the bureaucrats he’s encountered thus far. He’s not interested in playing nice. What does this man have to do to get a pass? Why is there anyone in the government who second guesses him?
Other seasons he had reasons to be upset and reasons to live.
Now…He wants to go to LA and play with his grandkid.
?
I don’t know whether to laugh at the line I wrote above or find it moving that Jack’s somehow managed to avoid becoming a hard and ugly person. I suppose I’ll find it moving.
The bad guys are on notice either way. He’s retired and has two baddies down already, axe and gravity vs. MP5 = Jacked.
I guess those fan’s with their drinking games may need to brace for disappointment however, the day’s just getting started.
I give it a max of three episodes before he puts a knife to someone’s eye. He’s already blackmailed an official and put an ax into someone so they’re not having retirement turn him soft.
How does a guy like Jack Bauer retire anyway?
That guy has got to be the nexus where Ying meets Yang as his life is a perpetual storm of bad things going sideways with everyone but him dying even if the bad guys eventually loose out.
First Sunday
Today we visited a local church, Covenant Presbyterian, then went to a local sports bar and watched the big Vikings vs. Cowboys game. Sadly for Kim’s family the Cowboys were slaughtered. I think Brett Favre was rubbing salt in the open wound of his old enemy franchise.
Yes, Kim has gotten me interested in football. If only I could convince her that Sci-Fi was cool. 33% of my readership may take note of the above comment as hope and dream.
After the game we went to half the electronics stores in a 10-mile radius looking for a TV converter box to translate the confounded digital signals into something our older TV can use. After finding one for too much money we quit the search but as providence had it, a neighbor had a spare. That left us short an antenna. After fashioning one from a coat hanger and a long coax cable, we watched the season 8 two hour-long premier of 24. New York got Jacked and we loved it. Jack is back people.
Yes, Kim has gotten me interested in football. If only I could convince her that Sci-Fi was cool. 33% of my readership may take note of the above comment as hope and dream.
After the game we went to half the electronics stores in a 10-mile radius looking for a TV converter box to translate the confounded digital signals into something our older TV can use. After finding one for too much money we quit the search but as providence had it, a neighbor had a spare. That left us short an antenna. After fashioning one from a coat hanger and a long coax cable, we watched the season 8 two hour-long premier of 24. New York got Jacked and we loved it. Jack is back people.
The Move
Thanks to the military, Kim and I enjoyed the services of professional movers. They arrived Friday and began unloading their truck around 9am. It was a full service, one time placement job, which boils down to them unpacking their truck, setting your stuff where you tell them, but only once and if you wish, unpacking your stuff and disposing of all the packing waste.
Here’s the catch: They don’t put anything away.
That’s right, not a dish in a cupboard or a nick-nack on a shelf. They open boxes and pile it out onto whatever surface they can find.
Kim and I are still debating whether they method used by our packers at the 3PM hour was an attempt to punish us into releasing them from their job or simply the way they do their thing.
We’ll never know for sure, but so far very little is broken and we are in possession of well, our possessions. And what’s great is that I didn’t have to drive a 28 foot U-Haul with a 17’ trailer attached to the back.
Hoorah! for the free moving service.
I would like to know where my TV remote is though….
Here’s the catch: They don’t put anything away.
That’s right, not a dish in a cupboard or a nick-nack on a shelf. They open boxes and pile it out onto whatever surface they can find.
Kim and I are still debating whether they method used by our packers at the 3PM hour was an attempt to punish us into releasing them from their job or simply the way they do their thing.
We’ll never know for sure, but so far very little is broken and we are in possession of well, our possessions. And what’s great is that I didn’t have to drive a 28 foot U-Haul with a 17’ trailer attached to the back.
Hoorah! for the free moving service.
I would like to know where my TV remote is though….
Better Than Panera...
St Louis Bread Co…
Everywhere else it is called Panera Bread, but here, where it all started, the name may be different but the bread is just as good. But, can you guess what’s better than Fresh Panera Bread?
Free Panera Bread.
That’s right. I’m dining on free Panera Bread. Apparently, St. Louis Bread Co has been generously donating its evening left-overs twice a week to Covenant Theological Seminary for some time.
Thursday night found me tired, but awaiting the delivery of the fabled free bread. A new comer, I hung back to observe the proper etiquette of the event as trash bags of bread were brought into the community center and set down before us on the mail room tables.
As it turns out, the proper etiquette is to bring your own bags and stuff them full. Being new I hadn’t a bag, but no worries as the community here is so nice that not even the temptation of free Panera got in the way of a friendly student giving me a bag. Thanks to her I was able to grab several loaves, which, by the way are coming in very handy these first few days while Kim and I sort out our new apartment.
Thank you St. Louis Bread Co and thank you to whoever go the bread this week. It sure hits the spot.
Josh
Everywhere else it is called Panera Bread, but here, where it all started, the name may be different but the bread is just as good. But, can you guess what’s better than Fresh Panera Bread?
Free Panera Bread.
That’s right. I’m dining on free Panera Bread. Apparently, St. Louis Bread Co has been generously donating its evening left-overs twice a week to Covenant Theological Seminary for some time.
Thursday night found me tired, but awaiting the delivery of the fabled free bread. A new comer, I hung back to observe the proper etiquette of the event as trash bags of bread were brought into the community center and set down before us on the mail room tables.
As it turns out, the proper etiquette is to bring your own bags and stuff them full. Being new I hadn’t a bag, but no worries as the community here is so nice that not even the temptation of free Panera got in the way of a friendly student giving me a bag. Thanks to her I was able to grab several loaves, which, by the way are coming in very handy these first few days while Kim and I sort out our new apartment.
Thank you St. Louis Bread Co and thank you to whoever go the bread this week. It sure hits the spot.
Josh
Arrival
What to say…
It’s now 2010 and I’ve been remiss in posting for the last month and a half. However, with this first post of 2010, I can say that the Seminarian blog is truly coming from a Seminary for Kim and I are here.
6195 miles later, we arrived Thursday, 14 Jan 2010 at Covenant Theological Seminary. The school was good enough to put us up for the night in guest housing. The next morning I was giddy as I went down the stairs to check out.
Kim says I’m a pessimist, I suppose that is why I find it hard to believe we are here at times. But…we are. We are actually living out our dreams. God has provided and we are here.
Thanks to everyone who helped Kim, Hunter and I along the way. You all made 2 months and 6000+ miles of road time and existing out of a suitcase livable.
Josh
It’s now 2010 and I’ve been remiss in posting for the last month and a half. However, with this first post of 2010, I can say that the Seminarian blog is truly coming from a Seminary for Kim and I are here.
6195 miles later, we arrived Thursday, 14 Jan 2010 at Covenant Theological Seminary. The school was good enough to put us up for the night in guest housing. The next morning I was giddy as I went down the stairs to check out.
Kim says I’m a pessimist, I suppose that is why I find it hard to believe we are here at times. But…we are. We are actually living out our dreams. God has provided and we are here.
Thanks to everyone who helped Kim, Hunter and I along the way. You all made 2 months and 6000+ miles of road time and existing out of a suitcase livable.
Josh
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