I feel better dancing when I’m on a precarious rock wall.
— Sullivan, explaining why he was dancing all by himself on a rock wall outside the tent at Megan’s wedding
One thing that pleases me—well, two: First, Mommy and Daddy snuggles. And second, rock dust on my hands.
— Sullivan
I’m ashamed to say this for my gender, but men sweat 40% more than women.
— Sullivan, responding to Lucy after she pointed out a sweaty jogger while they both rode in the car to her house
Wait, you want me to dance self-consciously? Isn’t that a contradiction of terms?
— Scott
I am grateful for Elliott, Amber, and Vinny finally making it over for dinner tonight. I am grateful for a highly contrastive peace of mind today, with no anxiety-producing doubt about God. And I am grateful today for the opportunity to do good work on DiamondBack’s website.
I sang “Where or When” at the last FUSE Production cabaret. The audience said they enjoyed it a lot; I also enjoyed singing it. I managed this time to keep my eyebrows from making me look silly. I also managed to focus on the camera instead of on the audience, which, for this number at least, was a good decision. The next element of my performances I’d like to change is the prolific, side-to-side head-shaking I do every time I attempt to be expressive on a longer note. For my next performances, which will likely be “The Impossible Dream” and “Lily’s Eyes,” I’ll try to eliminate it completely by either keeping my head still or using one long head turn if I have to.
For my book reading, I’m going to alternate between enriching my understanding of the great literature of the world in chronological order and picking and choosing free reads completely whimsically.
The anxiety I feel was I rise some mornings is not due to a threat to my theism. It is due to a feeling of ought and a greed for accomplishment.
I’m grateful for my new friends Greg Bishop and Andrew Marzka, two fellow elementary-school dad with whom I spent the better part of the basketball-and-pizza evening.
I’m also grateful Carla has decided she will return to cutting my hair. She wants to thank me for working hard at work.
Note to self: Don’t spread alternative views, for example about the pseudonymity of Colossians, unless you think those views are worthy alternatives. In the case of Colossians, if stylistic variance is the only thing that advocates of pseudonymity have in their favor, then I don’t think it’s a legitimate argument.
Curiously, when I attempt to view in Firefox anything on Patheos other than the homepage, the browser returns the homepage as if someone had clicked the ‘Back’ button. Firefox is the only browser I use in which I haven’t blocked that website during the workday. And the site works fine in Chrome.
You want to know what I’m grateful for? I’m grateful that I knew just what to do in the face of anxiety-ridden sleeplessness that plagued my eleven- and twelve-o’clock hours: Drink a cup of chamomile tea, give thanks, and sleep in the guest bedroom. I was downright cheery last night as I went to sleep.
You want to know what else I’m grateful for: The present richness of the “little words” I received last year from You, God, to help me through this mind-crippling doubt. Transcendence was risibly thick with metaphor for You, and the realization about my inner skeptic is the H.L. Hunley is very helpful.
This morning I woke up with the words “dipolar theism” in my head. Fascinating, but I’m not sure how to apply the knowledge, except to say I think You’re perfectly capable of all those opposing traits simultaneously. Oh, and I’ll search the text of Satan and the Problem of Evil to make sure I didn’t see it there.
If I am to be the Housatonic, a blockader of doubt-supply, I know what is the H.L. Hunley: my own skepticism. I had trouble getting to sleep last night because of doubt about whether God is real. Nothing external prompted the doubt this time. Well, except doubt about whether Greg Boyd’s theses about freedom, love, and risk in Satan and the Problem of Evil hold.
Is it possible to create a world in which creatures have the freedom to love but not the freedom to harm, contra Boyd? A world in which all harm is prevented? At first glance, I’d say, “Of course! That’s the kind of world I aim to create in my house. If I fail, it is only because I am not fully able, not fully loving (say, in a fit of grumpiness or apathy), or not fully aware. Were I fully all three of those things, there would be no harm in my house.” I’ll have to work on picturing that scenario some more to see how it would play out.
[…]
If I stepped in every time Sullivan were to, say, swing a fist, might he resign me?
love noun 1 Self-donation (e.g., of attention, energy, time, material resources, money) born of high regard for someone or something
This made me think of Carla.
I’m grateful for the video Carla shared with me of a young man reciting a poem about his doubt.
I’m grateful that the warmer-than-seasonal weather has returned.
I’m grateful for the spirit of love I find for my very predictable dad, who called today to postpone his intentions to visit to celebrate Sullivan’s birthday until “sometime halfway between Sullivan’s birthday and Éa’s birthday.” I intend to call him tomorrow. God, grant grace on a salty tongue.
I belong to the family between 5:30 and 8:30.
I’m grateful for a day at home with no agenda or calendar items whatsoever. Just what we needed after a week dealing with Janet’s death. I’m sure the record of days will encapsulate it.
I will highlight one part of it, though: I’m grateful that the topography of State College includes the snow-covered hill at Penn Hills Park, which we Stilsons tobogganed down for two hours this sunny afternoon. Oh, and Carla and I had an attention-grabbing wrestling match on the slope, in which she attempted to pin me but could barely get me on the ground. I love a playful, feisty wife.
I’m grateful for Josh, who helped me shovel Janet’s driveway yesterday afternoon in preparation for the arrival of some relatives.
Today I’m grateful that somebody thought to invent space heaters, a very small one of which I just purchased and which I expect to arrive Tuesday. I’m getting chilblains on most of my fingers with it being winter and me working in the basement. I mean, some of my fingers look deformed.
I’m grateful for the Peters, whom we visited tonight on my whim. (OK, we had to go to the South Hills for milk from Meyer Dairy.) The long time that passes between when I see them outside a church context means conversation is always a little stilted at first. We just don’t know what to ask each other about. But they’re always welcoming, and once you get going, it’s always so warm. The kids still love going, too—although I’m not sure why: There aren’t many kiddo-friendly things to do there. But give Sullivan and Éa an elliptical machine and then a long sofa with crawlspace behind it, and they’re set for at least one evening.
Finally, I’m grateful for the confidence I feel having just finished Colossians that Paul both wrote it and doesn’t contradicts Jesus much.
Janet’s example inspires me to conceive of a scheme in which we proactively pursue a relationship with next-door neighbors at all times. So, for example, the next time Dave’s birthday rolls around, we give him a gift.
I am grateful for a possibly newfound ability to mourn, which I did with Carla tonight when she got a call from Carole saying that the doctors at Geisinger don’t expect Janet to live through the night. It felt good to cry. Faced with death, don’t attempt to console. Simply mourn alongside people. And then when they lose someone, as Janet’s family is about to, help a lot.
Alright, enough Scott-resolution and navel gazing. I am grateful for Janet. She brought gifts for our kids (and sometimes for us) almost every conceivable holiday. She joked a lot. She showed us the value of being friends with your neighbors.
That’s all I want to journal about tonight. Janet’s imminent death overshadows everything else.
“Such people will go on and on about visions they’ve had; they get puffed up without good reason by merely human thinking, and they don’t keep hold of the Head. It’s from Him that the whole body grows with the growth God gives it, as it’s nourished and held together by its various ligaments and joints.”
— Colossians 2:18-19, my emphasis
Paul here—or whoever wrote this wonderful letter—is making a case they the Colossian church shouldn’t listen to people trying to put rules onto them because of visions they’ve had. But I extract a principle here that corrects: Visions are not what will sustain your faith. Connecting to Jesus is what will sustain your faith.
Is Daniel Lanois actually David Ruis? Vocally, I can barely tell them apart.
To an onlooker like me, miracles are intensely distracting.