Tuesday, April 7, 2009

March and April Events



Here it is almost Easter, and my last posting was February! I would say inexcusable, but there is too much life (and a growing grandson) to experience to waste it sitting for hours in front of a computer.


Either way, the latest news is that all of us here drove up to Sacto last month to attend a promotion ceremony for Bill - he was promoted in the California State Military Reserve from Major to Lt. Colonel. Supposedly it was the short version of the ceremony, but for our purposes it was long enough. All promoted (Bill was 2nd highest promotion of the day, there was one new General) got to say a few words after their profiles and achievements were read, they received their new rank on the middle of the chest of their ACUs and everyone stood and applauded. There were about 20 promotions, so it took a while. The ceremony was held at State Headquarters in the mess hall. Afterward they had a reception line for the promotees and refreshments to munch on while people mingled and took photos (see below).



Afterward the eight of us had lunch nearby, and then Jeff, Emily, Nathan, Erin and Scott left for home. Julie and I sat in the car in the headquarters parking lot for a few hours while Bill finished his monthly military duties. Julie and I were too tired to go exploring, so she sat in the front seat and wrote poetry while I took a nap in the back seat. Bill and I were quite thrilled that all our children wanted to be there. It meant a lot to us.



This last weekend we all attended another Scottish Games event held annually here in Bakersfield. Bill's ancestry hales back to Clan Donald and the Lord of the Isles. Scott's ancestry hales back to Ireland (though I just discovered that Clan Donald originated in Ireland as well). We are all Picts, well, all but me, as I guess my ancestry is more English than Scottish. But anyway, it was a lovely day, and I got to see some of the new generation of our old high school McLane Highlanders perform along with several other piper groups. We of course came mostly for the Wicked Tinkers, who we think put on the best show. They are a bit wicked though (they like their whiskey and twirling their kilts), and some of their fans are a bit over the top, but we enjoy the music and their skills. I found a picture Bill took of me with some of the Scottish bands in the background. I will include it here!



Other news is that my pastor nominating committee is unofficially decommissioned, as we feel God is wanting the church to take personal ownership of the ministries of connectivity through small groups and pastoral care. Two years ago the church wasn't ready for that, but we see signs that the members are ready to do their part to make it happen. So the fact that the Lord hasn't seen fit to call any pastor to cover those areas of ministry need is another indicator to us that he wants us to get our own hands in the mix. Our committee asked the Elder board to decommission our committee, but while they agreed, the congregation has to do the actual decommissioning, which will hopefully happen at the next congregational meeting in June.

Also, I will be going to Colorado Springs on April 18th for Assistant Teaching Director training for Community Bible Study. I have had to complete a lesson and two lecture exercise sheets in preparation for instruction on how to give a lecture and lead a core study group. While I led a core group one year over 20 years ago, I am very rusty, and as for giving lectures - bother! I am not looking forward to that! But I will only be expected to give 4 to 6 lectures a year, so hopefully I will be able to pull them together.

In the meantime, Julie has been busy. She has run in a couple of little 5Ks for various organizations, is presently comforting a co-worker and friend who is even now losing her father in law to an aggressive cancer that showed up less than 3 months ago (she spent part of last night in the hospital to encourage her friend in what may be her father in law's last night); she is working overtime at her office to help her employers meet the April 15th deadline (she works for accountants); and she is planning to go to Japan later this year as part of a mission project through her church.

Bill in the meantime is working hard to keep some income flowing, as he took a monetary cut at work due to his boss' response to the economic crisis. We can be grateful that none of our family have lost their jobs (knock on wood) due to this crisis.

On the Nathan watch front, he still has no teeth, though you will see from the picture below that he is drooling a flood. He also does not sit or crawl on his own, much less walk, BUT, he can turn over back to front and back again, and turn around in his crib, and he is now going through the process of learning to eat food. He took to it very well, as you can tell by his still chubby cheeks. They put him in his highchair to feed him when they are home. He is still getting "pumped" mommy's milk, though more of it per sitting along with his cereal or fruit mash. He goes to bed now between 8 and 9 p.m. and most times sleeps through the night. I pick him up from day care some Fridays after work and we have a blast. Emily invited me a couple of weeks ago to spend the day with them (I took the day off) to get his Easter pictures and to walk him around in his stroller at the Market Place while Emily used her spa certificate that I gave her last September. We had a blast! I get to keep him all day this Friday, and in anticipation I have purchased a little walker to see how he will get around in it. He has really strong legs and likes to stand all the time. It is difficult most times to get him to sit! Anyway, that is the Nathan watch update for now!

I wish you all a wonderul Easter celebration!
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Spheres of Glass, by Erin McArdle

We are spheres of glass, these souls, blown from the very breath of heaven. Each one of us is dipped, shoved into the painful heat of the glory hole, shaped on a hardened plate of steel, rounded out with just the right amount of pressure, and then, while we are still pliable, the air is pushed through us, filling us with volume, with shape, and if the artisan desires, a crackled color is then applied. I...I am a bright turquoise with red and orange piping. There's a bit of sunset yellow that glows somewhere inside, along with a bit of that color that pauses on the horizon somewhere between twilight and the final whisper of the last ray of sunlight.
Once we are set in the hay to slow dry, we either crack slightly or come out crystal and shining. I used to think I wanted to be crystal clear. Now I think I prefer a little bit of character, and some very serious color.
God sets us on the earth, hands us our precious ball of delicately blown glass (just one to start with), and asks us to walk along side him. He points out the visions of life, whether we are listening or not, presenting us with opportunity beyond our imagination. We are watching the starlight sparkle within, the sun and moon glitter across, all the while taking each step with care as we hold our gift. Many times the ball drops. Many times the sphere we spend so much effort protecting breaks, and Oh Lord, how unthinkable that must be...
I stand somewhere in the middle of a New York style street, staring at the shattered pieces of glass, the noise - a blur fading into the background, trying to pick them up, hands bleeding with every shard scraped off the horrid, burning pavement. Heart beat desperate to turn back time, to fix my mistakes, to move a little quicker, to hold onto my precious sphere. some of it has ground itself in and the powder is blown away under the hell of the wretched summer heat. I gather what I can and leave the rest. I empty it into a small bag. There are so many pieces as my feet crunch across the ground, and I wonder whose soul they belonged to, and if they really wanted them back and just couldn't get them or if they lost the ability to care after trying for so long to preserve it.
Somewhere along the way I find a side street and a bottle of superglue, revlon nail formula. Laughing out loud, I seriously thought it would work...for about 30 seconds. The ultra bonding substance could hold limbs together, but not the shattered pieces of me. As I stood there, almost hopeless, two thoughts came to mind: 1st-a clear bag. Definitely zip-lock, definitely tear proof. But then, as I grow older, I realize that nothing can tear proof the soul, or the heart that feeds upon it. 2nd-I have to find the glass blower. The artisan. He will be saddened to see such a mess, but there is a small twinkle in his eye, much like Ollivanders, that keeps the desperate hope I cling to from fading.
His shop is filled with gadgets...time collectors, tear drop measurers, colorful bits and baubles unrecognizable to me. Beautiful and aged. The room has that yellow glow to it, like the end of a sepia toned summer day on its last spark. He takes my bag, pours the remains into the glory hole and we watch it melt. I have done this many times before. And I am lost for words every time. But he knows. I can see it in the lines on his perfectly wrinkled face. He always knows. Slowly, he takes the rod and swirls it into the liquid glass, creating a new sphere - knowing in time I will break this one too, but making it just as pristine as the very first. He looks at me for just a moment before gazing at the colors he might add to it. This time, the piping is jet black, and the glass is of a sparkling mist. Somewhere I see the old hint of turquoise, and a hidden stripe of autumn. He finishes my ball and sets it to cool...Carefully he puts his tools back in their place, and then turns to me. He has not said a word, nor have I. We use the small sink to rinse my hands, the aloe plant sacrifices a limb for me.
And here I sit, like the fainting phoenix, waiting to rise from the ashes, as the glass cools and takes on its new shape and plethora of colors. Eventually the time will come, and he will hand it back to me-this new and old gift.
And somewhere down the road, it will come to pass that I will need to come back here again, perhaps slightly less battered. But I should make my way back here again. And maybe next time, it will only be to add on a bit of color - something more golden and starlit - or maybe, just maybe, he'll hand me another to carry.