Evendays

You can always learn things from your kids. I find out about all kinds of stuff when we sit around the table to eat. Son 2 and Daughter are high school math-physics majors (yes, you start your major before college) and they are always talking about apexes and “E” and other things of vital importance. Wife has been reading one of Dave Barry’s more dated books on computers and she told Son 2 about one of his stories: an exploding whale in Oregon. I’m sure you’ve heard of it, but it was news to me. Of course, son 2 immediately googled for the OFFICIAL whale-exploding site and, between bites of sloppy joes at lunch (described in our kids’ English as: “It’s been a long time since we haven’t had those”) he gave us a blow by blow account of the video-documented fiasco. Needless to say, the re-telling of the story by Wife and Son 2 were more interesting than the online video. When eyes shine and words get swallowed in laughter, you know you’re enjoying an unforgettable moment with family, even if it was at the expense of an 8 ton whale and an engineer’s pride. Thanks for stopping by.

Ash Wednesday is this week, the day that brings many into the season of Lent that covers the 40 days before Easter, not counting Sundays which always celebrate the resurrection, even during Lent. One of our recent visitors is trying to figure out what “luxury” to give up for Lent this year. Last year this active reader gave up frivolous novels. This year she thought she’d give up chocolate, but since she’s American and may never again have the opportunity to enjoy Swiss chocolate in this abundant context, it seems too big a sacrifice to make. I suggested giving up CNN, but this English-speaker just got her first television yesterday after 4 weeks without news. Plus, everyone’s got to keep up on the Bird Flu. As we joked and brainstormed on things for HER to give up, it became clear that finding just the right sacrifice to make, not too big, not too small, would not be easy. I am not a big Lent fan. We are called to enjoy stuff with thankfulness. But the season of Lent does bring perspective into a life made up of Fat Tuesdays. It can prepare us for Easter when our Savior gave it all up for us.

Just got back from a wonderful week in Germany at a place called Gemunden, situated in a beautiful forest about 30 minutes northwest of Frankfort. We followed three Bible-study sessions each morning and 2 (or more) others each evening). Creative juices were flowing (the gospels have never looked so rich) as we fellowshipped with Christians from all over Europe and ate like kings. Wife has resolved not to eat for at least the next 3 days though she ran every day on those cold, country roads. Son 1 was there and is doing well. Why is it so hard to say goodbye EVERY time. I thought it would just be the first time… Saw Scott Raab. I did NOT know that he was a guitar playing, strumming and a-picking fool. The man has talent. On the last evening, we teamed up with two other men and sang a barbershop quartet version of “Take Me Out To The Ballgame”. We’re talking quality stuff. It’s great to be back home with Son 2 and Daughter. Though I left my suitcase in Germany and 4 freshly baked pretzels in the “chauffer’s” car… The trip was worth it. I’ll catch up on your posts tomorrow. Should be fun.

Let me express to you my gratefulness for the prayers you’ve offered on behalf of A. He died on Friday evening, but not without knowing that several people from the world over were praying. He was thankful, and quite surprised, that he had become “international”. A. wrestled, as many of us do, with unbelief. To put his confidence in God was a major obstacle. Even in his last few weeks, he struggled with giving up his life so that he might gain it. Two examples: About a week ago, I sat next to him as he was dozing off in his hospital bed. He muttered “incroyable”. “Unbelievable.” As I spoke to him later he said that, essentially, overcoming his lack of belief was his next, difficult step. The last time we spent an hour together, I asked him where he was in his walk with God. He replied: “I need to have more confidence in… (and a few seconds ticked away) myself.” A.’s body will be buried on Wednesday. I won’t be there (Wife and I will be Bible students in Germany for 4 days) but I was privileged to spend sacred time with him these last few months.

What’s it like to have the Gold Medal within your grasp, the sure thing, and then lose it? What’s it like to expect the Silver (you’re 60 yards behind with 6 seconds left in the race) then see your opponent on her derriere in the snow as you glide by for the gold? Son 2 called me on the intercom: “Switzerland’s just won the gold in the women’s snowboard-cross competition. You’ve got to see how it happened.” (I thought he was making the sport up.) Caught up in the moment, the American Lindsey Jacobellis did a “grab” move on a jump near the finish and fell. The three of us from the Swiss vantage point thought she was doing her best to please the crowd when she ate it. USA Today says she was just stabilizing her board in a crosswind. It was a crummy way to lose. But I’ve seen football players, completely alone, drop the ball before the end zone, and a grounder go between a first baseman’s legs. Not fun ways to lose. And probably not the end of the world. Any famous mess-ups that you can remember? FYI: The Swiss have 6 medals including the Silver in Men’s ice-skating and the Gold in women’s skeleton. Don’t you just love the Olympics?

A thought sometimes dances around inside my head when I reflect on death and suffering (brought to mind by the struggle of my friend A.—see previous posts), and it goes like this: Jesus knew he would be rejected. He knew he would be beaten. He knew he would be condemned to a terrible death. He knew he would take his last breath on a cross. But… Jesus… cheated… He knew it wasn’t the end. He knew the “rest of the story”. He knew there was a resurrection. He knew he would sit at God’s right hand. So the thought continues: Jesus’ suffering is not like mine. His death and mine are miles apart. For how much courage does it take to face death when you know your Father won’t forget you? When he’s mapped out a plan? When he’s made you a promise? Hmmmmm… When facing death, “in Christ” one knows… It isn’t the end. He knows the “rest of the story”. He knows he will be resurrected. He knows he will sit at God’s side. That there’s a plan. That a promise has been made. And so… he too… cheats…

Last night, I went upstairs after about a two-hour absence and found that my kids had completely morphed. Daughter had Wife mending a white blouse, yes, a BLOUSE, that Daughter was planning on wearing to school today, “La journée d’élégance”. This is a girl who thinks she was born wearing overalls and a grey t-shirt. Then Son 2 entered the room and I started crying. He was missing about a foot of hair! My son actually has a forehead and eyes! So on this lovely Swiss Valentine’s Day, Son 2 got up early and put on his suit and tie. Daughter got up and put on her borrowed white blouse (yes, a BLOUSE), and I took a picture. So have a Happy Valentine’s Day, my friends and family! Or, if you’re going to the local Swiss high school today, have a great “Day of Elegance”.

One of the English classes I would teach about once a month was for advanced speakers and dealt with “finding your perfect partner”. Students were to rate the importance of the following themes for compatibility between lovers: disparity in education / economic levels, differences in religious preference, dissimilarity of pastimes, and smoking / non-smoking. I failed to keep track of the results of the informal survey, but cannot remember a time when students answered that belief/unbelief in Jesus as the Son of God was a bigger issue than diverse hobbies; that trust in God outranked smoking preferences. In fact, the general consensus was, “Education doesn’t matter. Faith even less. But don’t dare complain about my cigarettes after a morning out on the ski slopes.” I deplore the violence and threats committed in recent weeks by some Muslims in some countries and the political motives behind the violence. But my point is this: the European press seems incapable of comprehending their capacity to insult people in matters as “unimportant” as faith. They may admit that their expressions are, at times, bad taste or even inappropriate, but insist that it’s really no big deal and that those who are offended should worry about issues of greater importance… Like the effects of second-hand smoke.

One of the down-sides of Wife’s good cooking is that we don’t go out to eat much. In general, we hit the restaurants only when company is in town and at the end of February for our wedding anniversary. You can actually eat lunch out for about $15.00. Well, sometimes. If you ask for a no-smoking section, they’ll often put the plastic no-smoking sign on your table, invisibly and mysteriously protecting you from second-hand smoke. But it’s getting better. There are no free refills, and iceless Coke, or Virgin (Branson) Cola, costs more than beer. Santé! What is remarkable to our American visitors is the slow pace of the dining process. There are no waitresses named Sherry, Chris or Heather. And if you’ve got the table, you’ve got the table. No 43 minute turn-around time here. It may take 20 minutes to order and 20 more minutes to get your bill, but you do get used to it, and you actually get to have nice, long chats with those at your table. So, when you come, we’ll mostly eat at home (a nice fondue or raclette) where kids ARE welcome, but don’t schedule any other events on the evening we go out.

I’m bummed. And a little angry… A., my relatively new, 67-year-old friend, is in the hospital again. To visit him you put on a sterile “blouse” and mask then disinfect your hands. The leukemia has completely destroyed his immune system. He experiences extreme fatigue, some paralysis, but the pain is mostly under control. We spent 10 minutes together as he kept dropping off to sleep. The time to talk more seriously about eternal things never arrived, a promise he’d made to me two weeks ago (during one of Federer’s Australian Open matches). Now I doubt that time will come. As communicated in a past post, the sickness has completely deformed his visage. Now it’s sapped his strength. And the habit of saying “no” to God, or maybe just “later”, seems to have won out on this one. I sometimes, maybe even often, doubt the power of God. But turning to the Creator in prayer for A. is so… not spiritual… but natural right now, and the right thing to do. Thanks for stopping by.