Seen and unseen

I've just read the first two novels in Hilary Mantel's trilogy about Thomas Cromwell. I never would have guessed that the life and times of a fifteenth century English statesman would enthrall me. But both books, Wolf Hall and Bring Up The Bodies, were the sort of reading material that had to go with me everywhere, on the off chance I might found myself with a string of free minutes to gobble down a few pages. I hated coming to the end of the second one, but I couldn't stop myself.

In this week's issue of The New Yorker, there's a profile on Mantel. I read it first, with relish. Mantel told the interviewer that she no longer believes in God, but that her religious upbringing influenced her life tremendously. "When you're inculcated with religion at such an early age, or when you're receptive to it, as I was, you become preoccupied with the unseen reality," she says. "This other world, the next world, to me in my childhood seemed just as real as the world I was living in. It wasn't that I had a mental picture of it--it was that I never questioned its existence. I used to conduct a lot of imaginary conversations with God. I don't think Jesus was any less real to me than my aunts and uncles; the fact that I happened not to be able to see him was pretty irrelevant to me."

Her words stuck in my craw, because I so want to "become preoccupied with the unseen reality" and for the other world to seem "just as real as the world I'm living in." I've been trying to train my eyes to see that way.

I've been grappling with the idea of the "unseen reality" for years, and especially lately while reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts. Voskamp believes in God, but not with no-questions-asked certainty. After her own grappling, she's come to the conclusion that our perception of the world around us--and whether we believe that God is orchestrating all things for good--dictates how much joy we'll get out of life. I'm down with that.

The rub, of course, is the believing. God is invisible and silent, and many of the people who believe in him don't inspire me. In fact, they shake the mustard seed of faith I'm trying to grow. Sometimes I'm rocked by the thought that I so want the unseen world to be real, that I will myself to believe it. Mantel, who no longer believes, confirms that thought. She describes her season of belief as a childhood preoccupation, something she grew out of.

But here's another way of looking at it. The seen world is real, palpable--and hurtling by at great speed. In a few days I'll be 42. Lately I've been having trouble reading small print. I'm not old! But there's no denying I've reached the halfway point. I know I can't count on the seen world. It's like water through my fingers. So I turn back again to Scripture.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:18)

"The things which are seen are temporal - wealth, pleasure, fame (i.e. the three idols which the people of this world adore) - are all to endure but for a little time. They will all soon vanish away. So it is with pain, and sorrow, and tears. All that we enjoy, and all that we suffer here, will eventually vanish and disappear. The most lingering disease will soon cease; the evils of the deepest poverty, want, and suffering will soon be passed. There is nothing on which the eye can fix, nothing that the heart can desire here, which will not soon fade away; or, if it survives, it is temporary in regard to us. We must soon leave it to others. How foolish then to make these our portion, and to fix our affections supremely on the things of this life? How foolish also to be very deeply affected by the trials of this life, which at the furthest can be endured but a little longer before we shall be forever beyond their reach!" 
--American theologian Albert Barnes (1798-1870)


There is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known. (Matthew 10:26)

Orchid

Last week, on our 9th wedding anniversary, Lee brought me an orchid. We were both a little amazed by this flower. See below.

Lately I've been wrestling with my thoughts about God (what else is new). And it occurs to me that God made this intricate and gorgeous flower, and He also made...dirt and mosquitoes and fungus. It all seems so hard to believe.

I'm reading two books. Death by Suburb, by David Goetz, and One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp. The second book is written in poetic language, which better suits the ineffable quality of our God, who creates flowers like the one above.

In both books, Chapter 5 is about suffering. Goetz suggests that instead of always trying to throw off our cross, we might "see all things as coming from the hand of God, even, or especially, the cross itself." Voskamp goes even further, explaining that darkness--the hard stuff that makes me angry and anxious--actually births new life and even joy. It's a matter of perspective. Do I really trust God? Then it's OK to let things go.

Isabel didn't get into the Family program I was hoping for. (It's an exclusive program where one group of kids stays together from 2nd - 5th grade, go on their own special field trips, and have excellent teachers.) The teacher Isabel DID get was new to second grade and in her final year of decades of teaching. It didn't seem to be a choice placement.

I struggled with it for a while, feeling like Isabel had been cheated. But these authors, especially Voskamp, have changed my thinking. It's a matter of perspective. If God allowed Isabel to be placed in this class, then good will come out of it--even if I don't see it. Trust.

Anything's possible!

Lily was in a musical theater camp this week at BAPA (British Academy of Performing Arts). Forced by me, but girded by the presence of her best friend Marina, Lily ended up having...an OK time. That's according to her. I'd like to think that our $150 gave her a new experience and a self-esteem boost that you can't put a price tag on! Here are some outtakes from her recital on the last day. Lily is the sweet, precious, and most beautiful one. Marina is the cutie in blue who's next to her in the first clip.

Here in East Cobb, the helicopter parents are engaged in a fierce competition, and summer camp is one of its most important events. I abstained, for the most part. No soccer, karate, voice lessons, gymnastics, acrobatics, violin/piano, or anything else--except for swim team and one week of camp. Lily's was this musical theater camp, and in this same week, Isabel attended Cobb County Art Camp. It's a sport in itself getting your child into the art camp, which at $90 is one of the few reasonably priced ones in the area. But I was on it this year--signed her up back in March or whenever it was, at the exact moment parents had to be online for signups. She liked it, anyway. Here's a photo of her and Ryan D in the masks they made for the "comedy arts" portion...

Mr. Bear

I'm the older sibling. I've never had to wait on the sidelines until it was my turn to get in the game. So I have special sympathy for my Lilybug, who has had to watch big sister Isabel "host" a classroom stuffed animal three times now.


On Friday, Lily and Isabel were on a playdate, and Isabel called to say they'd gotten there safely. In the background, I heard Lily call out to her. "Tell Mommy I got Mr. Bear!" You'd think he was made of solid gold.


So...Lily got Mr. Bear for the weekend. Here's our scrapbook of our time together...

God and Politics

I heard this piece on NPR this morning. It's titled: "Christians debate: Was Jesus For Small Government?"  

Fascinating stuff. As a Christian, I think I need to have an opinion on this. As usual, I'm leaning left.

Here's the premise:

Wisconsin Republican Rep. Paul Ryan, who chairs the House Budget Committee...told Christian Broadcasting Network last week that it was his Catholic faith that helped shape the budget plan. In his view, the Catholic principle of subsidiarity suggests the government should have little role in helping the poor...Through our civic organizations, through our churches, through our charities — through all of our different groups where we interact with people as a community — that's how we advance the common good," Ryan said.

Here's the counterpunch:

But Stephen Schneck, a political scientist at Catholic University, says he thinks Ryan is "completely missing the boat and not understanding the real heart, the real core, of Catholic social teaching." Schneck says Catholicism sees everyone as part of a mystical body, serving one another. True, the New Testament does not specifically speak to the government's role. "But charities and individuals and churches can't do it all," Schneck says. "When charities are already stretched to their limit, Catholic social teaching expects the state to step up and to fill that gap."

Here's the premise:

Richard Land at the Southern Baptist Convention says the whole of Scripture says that people are sinful and selfish and, therefore, "people aren't going to work very hard and very productively unless they get to keep a substantial portion of that which they make for them and for their families."

And the counterpunch:

Schneck points out that there are more biblical verses about feeding the hungry and taking care of the least fortunate. Schneck agrees that the Bible encourages initiative and hard work. But he says theologians through the ages have said there must be a balance.

Proof

I know I'm not impartial. But normally, when you take a picture of Isabel's sweet face, here's what happens: Millions of tiny pixels organize themselves into a work of art. It takes serious skill to make my cutie-pie look anything less than adorable in a picture. And yet the school photographer has managed it.

Oh yes, it's proof. Proof that no one survives Picture Day, not even angels. Now see below, a recent photo that I casually snapped outside Roswell's Bulloch Hall. Guess which one I'll be framing?

In other news...


On the drive home from swim lessons today, we're listening to They Might Be Giants' Here Comes Science. The song is "Photosynthesis."


Lily: What's photosynthesis?
Isabel: Come on, you know what photosynthesis is.
Lily: No I don't.
Isabel (appalled and disgusted): They haven't taught you about plants yet?


I know what she's thinking. What kind of ghetto PreK is Mom sending her to? And now the wheels of Isabel's mind are turning. How do I get the number for DYFS? Surely this qualifies as parental neglect?

Big Creek

Lee and I are learning that hiking is slightly more palatable for the kids if it involves...adventure. Luckily, at their ages, crossing a fallen log over a teensy brook (a large puddle, really) counts.

Grinning

When I picked Lily up from school on Wednesday, she got in the car and handed me the proofs of her school picture. Notice the...well, I'd call it a grimace.

"I grinned," she said. Right, of course. Isabel always grins in photos. "So you were being like Isabel?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "I was being like Barbie. Barbie never shows her teeth." Lily and I have been reading her STEP INTO READING Barbie chapter books. At one point recently she read "Barbie grins" and asked me what that meant. I told her, and she said, "Like Isabel. She always grins." Exactly.

She really listens, my precious little pea.

Lilybug

Today when I walked Lily into her pre K classroom, Ms. Olivia asked, "Did Lily tell you what she did last week?" She went on to explain that she'd had laryngitis and couldn't read to the class. So she asked Lily to do it. "Lily read about the solar system. She's like on a third grade reading level. She's astounding!" All the while Lily hugged me close and looked up at me, bursting with pride. I almost burst myself.

If you went back and looked at my prayer blog from last year, you'd see lots and lots and lots of prayers about whether to hold Lily back a year or send her ahead to kindergarten. (She would have been the youngest in the class, and at a disadvantage.) I opted to send her to the Primrose School for one last year of pre K, and I'm so glad that I did. 

Here's a video of Lily before her bath the other night, dancing with her Littlest Pet Shops. I have a feeling that this is just how God meant for her to be--joyfully dancing around to her own little dance remix, sung out loud with all her might. I love watching her. Is that how He feels about us too?

I just read Gretchen Rubin's inspiring book, The Happiness Project. Here's her one-sentence summary:


 "The Happiness Project is my memoir of one year in which I test-drive every principle, tip, theory, and research-study result I can find, from Aristotle to St. Therese to Benjamin Franklin to Martin Seligman to Oprah [about happiness]. What advice actually works?"


OK, it's two sentences. This woman really appeals to my drive for succinctness. Is succinctity a word? No, it appears not, since my computer underlined it in red. What did we do before computers? (Spent time outdoors in the fresh air, no doubt. Meh.)


Here is how she described her blog:


"THE HAPPINESS PROJECT is the memoir of the year I spent test-driving the wisdom of the ages, current scientific studies, and lessons from popular culture about how to be happier. As one of the hundreds of experiments I've conducted, I started this blog. Here, I recount my daily adventures in pursuit of happiness."

Anyway, The Happiness Project has gotten the wheels turning in my head. And...that's all for now.

Lily is working her way through a learn-to-read chapter book collection of Disney princess stories. Last night she read "A Pet for a Princess," about Princess Jasmine and her tiger, Rajah. Only Lily doesn't read, per se. She sings through it like it's a lyrical score. I think the Disney princesses would approve.

Sadly, this "singing everything" stage also coincides with her and her sister's discovery of Katy Perry and Taio Cruz. Lily's iPod Cube (with these songs and others) keeps ending up in every room I'm in. Then I get in the car, where it's all "Annie," all the time. But it's not affecting me. Not at all. I hardly hear it anymore. Besides, I know that the sun will come out tomorrow.

Retro Slang

Isabel has taken to using the expression, "Oh, drat!" If I say, "Isabel, it's time to get dressed for school," or "Isabel, it's swim lessons day," I can count on a hearty "Oh, drat!" in reply. I keep expecting Linus or Peppermint Patty to walk in at any moment and call me a blockhead.

Happily, she had no cause to drat anything on Saturday. At 7:30 am she presented me with the invitations she'd written to all the dogs in the neighborhood. Yes, dogs. She informed me that we'd be having a birthday party for Hunter (our long-suffering, mixed breed terrier) that day. This required that we drive around the neighborhood, delivering invitations to mailboxes, as well as a trip to Kroger, to purchase doggie ice cream and other treats.

Isabel's invitations stipulated that the dogs must bring a gift for the birthday boy. I sent out a hasty email to their humans: NO GIFTS ARE ACTUALLY NECESSARY. But I added that yes, the invitations were for real, and please let me know if you think your dog will be attending. I expected a lot of no's. When will I ever learn?

Out of five dogs invited, four showed up. There was Marky the Chihuahua, Bailey the Golden Retriever, Lupe the Westie and Finnegan the Standard Poodle. Isabel devised party games for the people (she'd invited the kid owners, too), and placed the doggie dixie cups (gussied up with bones and walnuts on top) on a platter. She led the guests in a rousing version of "Happy Birthday to You."

I now see no need to plan her next birthday party. Clearly, she can do this herself. But if I tell her that, do you know what she'll say?

"Oh, drat!"