Wednesday Night Reflection - The Allergic Body of Christ

¹²Let no one despise your youth, but set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity. ¹³Until I arrive, give attention to the public reading of scripture, to exhorting, to teaching. ¹⁴Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you through prophecy with the laying on of hands by the council of elders. ¹⁵Put these things into practice, devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress. ¹⁶Pay close attention to yourself and to your teaching; continue in these things, for in doing this you will save both yourself and your hearers.  1^st Timothy 4.12-16

My campus pastor died six years ago this week.  When we went down to Lincoln for the funeral, I had what I thought at the time was the world’s WORST cold:  completely stuffed up nose, scratchy throat, watery eyes, lost my voice the week before and the occasional sinus headache.  It was at its worst the night of the visitation at the funeral home, so in I walked looking like I’d been crying non-stop for like a week, blowing my nose every 30 seconds or so and actually spending a few minutes talking with one of Larry’s daughters with a shred of Kleenex stuck to my moustache until my wife came by and whispered the news into my ear.  I mean, not that I was embarrassed to cry at the funeral, but you’d rather people knew the whole truth at times like that, right?

Blargh.

Yeah, I'm home sick today.  Woot!

I could probably be working by now, but I'm a firm believer in staying home when you're not feeling well, so here we are.  Besides, with my MacBook and cell phone I'm still able to accomplish quite a bit on a "sick day," to the point that I'm not actually taking the whole day off today anyway. 

One of the things I've been doing is catching up on blogger friends and actually reading stuff rather than skimming it per usual.  Every once in a while you follow the rabbit down the hole into a world you never knew existed, and I got a look at one such hole today - unfortunately, this one wasn't a particularly good one to follow. 

I stumbled on a website which seems completely dedicated to taking down the ELCA, the denomination in which I currently serve as pastor.  Whoever is running this thing is a disgruntled former ELCA member who has spent far too much time going over ELCA documents and websites with a fine-toothed comb, intent on finding every questionable phrase or sentence that could be exploited for his/her disingenuous, unfair and ultimately toxic agenda.  No, I'm not linking to it, nor will I give any more hints as to how to find it.  The last thing I want to do is increase the traffic over there.  Let's just say that after a few minutes reading thosee suspicious, conspiracy-theory mis-interpretations, I felt like I needed a shower (though, I admit, it might have also been because I've spent most of the day in this recliner in the basement).  

No one is surprised to note that a year after the ELCA's decision to embrace the ministry of same-gender persons in monogamous relationships and allow churches to bless same-gender unions, the fallout is still, well, falling.  Churches are leaving the ELCA:  this is a cause for sorrow even when that departure might be the healthiest way forward.  No one wants to leave the denomination with which they have been connected for so long.  But as an internet friend said the other day, at some point you get to the point where you think, "How can I miss you if you won't go away?" 

There's a fine line between honest disagreement and spreading poison.  I walked it here while the UB was going on, and some accused me of crossing it.  That's part of the reason I haven't been blogging much lately: I'm worried about crossing that line.  When Susan Hogan was running Pretty Good Lutherans, I thought she provided a great space for people of diverging opinions to talk about what was happening in the ELCA.  I wish she were still doing it, because efforts like that stand as a counter to the site I visited today, where the primary hermeneutic lens is one of suspicion and the default setting is somewhere between soapbox and BOMBAST.  There's a need for genuine criticism and loyal dissension in every denomination, especially in these days when staff layoffs are camouflaged as new structures designed to increase flexibility.  I just wish this small portion folks who disagreed with the ELCA's decisions in 2009 had chosen healthier means of expressing that disagreement.  I think I'd have been that much closer to feeling better if they had.

Sick Day

Okay, thankfully I'm long past this kind of sick day. Still, a guy does need a day off every now and then.

I'm home today. Frankly, I am well enough that I could have gone in to the office and done some work, but I was diagnosed with bronchitis yesterday, and the coughing, fever and sore throat last night were pretty harsh. It seemed the more prudent course of action to stay home, stay in the recliner and take it easy, given that starting tomorrow I've got the five busiest church days of the year staring me in the face. Thankfully, most everything is lined up and ready to go - musicians in place, worship services in order, and just about everything else needs minor tweaking at the most.* So staying at home today is not such a big deal.

It has been rather nice, actually. I got to watch two more episodes of Rome, season 2, caught up on some emails, read The Lutheran from cover to cover and generally bored Jack the dog to tears. Poor guy gets one of us home all day, and it's no different than the days he's here alone. Worse, actually - I didn't give him a bone to chew.

It seems as if we've had every possible bug imaginable these last six months. Ainsley is due to have her tonsils and adenoids removed on April 12th, which will hopefully clear up her sinuses and help her breathe, eat, sleep and grow better. Alanna, of course, is catching every bug at day care, and then Kristin and I catch whatever makes its way up the ladder. Thank goodness we can get out of the house a bit more often now - the fresh air will definitely do us some good.

Now it's off to the shower and off to Pre-School to pick up the girls. The deep breath before the storm tomorrow. Blessed be the One who comes in the name of the Lord.

Grace & peace,
Scott

*says the guy who was nicknamed "DONI" over Spring Break: "Detail Orientation Needs Improvement." You might want to start praying for our community right about...NOW.

It Could Have Been Much, Much Worse

It could have been like this:

On Thursday, we took the girls to a local middle school to be vaccinated against H1N1.

JUST.

LIKE.

EVERYONE.

ELSE.

IN.

OUR.

COUNTY.

It was not a pleasant way to spend my day off. For one thing, it was raining. All day. Two kids plus one dog trapped inside all day = two cranky kids, one wound up dog, and two exhausted parents. By 10:00 A.M. I was so fed up I took Jack for a walk in the rain just to get him out of the house and out from underfoot. Everyone was happier for at least a little while after that.

Eventually we journeyed off to the flu clinic. And I mean everyone but the cats. "Oh, let's get Jack out of the house - it won't be THAT long, will it?" Not the last thing I was wrong about Thursday, either.

We were in line for almost two hours. At one point I heard the line wrapped around the entire interior of the building and out the door. It was pretty close to that when we arrived; I don't know how early folks started showing up to get in front. As it was, the girls were really wonderful: some fussiness, but not nearly what we had feared. We did have one absolute heart-stopper when Ainsley got away from us and we lost her for the longest five minutes of my life, but a county sheriff found her and then found us (cue huge sigh of relief and ten minutes of blushing, since we'd just lost our child in front of every parent in Story County, Iowa).

Another "it could have been worse" moment was the poor dad a few families in front of us. He had two boys with him - I'd put them at approximately 8 and 4 years old. The 4 year old was Matthew. I know this because of the Litany: "Matthew, stay here with me. Matthew, please don't lick the glass. Matthew, don't go into the girls' bathroom. Matthew, let me tie your shoe." Ad nauseum. The poor, poor man.

Finally, we got into Hell. I mean, the room where they do the vaccinations. I said Hell at first because if I ever go there, I expect the first thing I'll hear is a lot of screaming children, if whoever runs Hell knows what they're doing - the reaction was unpleasant in the extreme. Thanking heaven that we could both our day off together, we filled out the paperwork as fast as possible, leapfrogging Matthew's poor dad in the process. Matthew, at this point, had been reduced to a puddle of crying boy, punctuated by moments where he tried to get away like a feral cat cornered by a vicious dog. The poor, poor man.

The girls took their medicine well. Alanna got a shot, since she's already gotten her regular flu shot. Ainsley got the nasal spray. Two minutes of tears, then out into the rain for the drive home. Jack the dog, bless his heart, hadn't chewed on a thing in the van, and was so pathetically glad to see us I think I might have forgiven him if I had. By the time we got home, everyone was happy and singing.

Being a huge Stephen King fan, the opening chapters of The Stand popped into my head several times during the afternoon. For those who don't know the plot, here's the basics: the government develops a shifting-antigen flu, which basically means that every time our bodies fight off the flu, it morphs into a different strain until our immune systems can't keep up. Of course the flu escapes its sterile environment, and eventually the pandemic wipes out some 90% of the population of the world. I realized as we were standing in line that when King wrote those chapters about the flu, he pretty much hit it right on the head. First people hear rumors of a pandemic virus, then the first few cases show up, and pretty soon it's ravaging the local population.

Of course, the first few times I read the book (somewhere around 13 or 14 years old, I think), I told myself, "I would go out into the mountains with a shotgun and a month of food before I'd fall victim to a virus like that." Thankfully, H1N1 isn't nearly as deadly for most of us, but it's really easy to find yourself amazed at what sheep we are sometimes. If I remember right, King describes a flu clinic EXACTLY like what we went through last week, with a false vaccine, just to keep the population from rioting. And here we were, obediently standing in line to be vaccinated, just like in the book. So much for the mountains and a shotgun, huh?

I am, however, grateful for the public health folks who are working so hard to help keep the virus under control. My paranoid mind-wanderings aside, we were treated with kindness and efficiency; they got a LOT of people through the line in a very quick hurry, and those of us with small kids were grateful for the extra protection against what sounds like a pretty nasty bug. It makes me realize, again, how fortunate we are to live here in this time - and how important it is to continue working on behalf of those who do not yet have access to the healthcare we so often take for granted.

Grace & peace,

Scott

The picture is a quarantine clinic during the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918.

Life with HFM: Day 6?

We seem to be on the downslope (knocking furiously on wood)!

Ainsley slept the night through, as did Beloved and Alanna, and everyone woke up smiling but me (I never wake up smiling - it's the coffee that brings the smile). When I went into Ainsley's room to get her dressed, she took a big drink out of her cup of water and said, "Owie all gone!" That was good news indeed.

Now the girls are at preschool/day care, Beloved is at her office with Jack the dog and I'm here, wondering how long it'll take me to get to the top of my desk and, more importantly, where the hell my sermon has gone. So, of course, I'm going to do the Friday Five in a few minutes. Priorities, right? :-)

Thanks again for all the prayers and well-wishes: it sounds like we got off pretty easy in the end, even including the trip to the ER. Our day care provider says that most cases are like Ainsley's or worse, and HFM can rip through families and day care groups like wildfire. We're not totally out of the woods yet, but today has certainly given us reason to hope.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Life with HFM, Day 5ish

Yesterday was a nightmare. Today, not so much.

Actually, yesterday started off pretty well. The girls woke up early, and we were exhausted, but after coffee and some breakfast for all, it seemed as though things weren't so bad. Ainsley ate two whole pieces of banana bread, with some wincing, and Alanna showed no ill effects of anything at all. Beloved went off to her office for a few hours and I, after grabbing a quick shower and shave, took the girls to campus for a walk. We parked at the Center, walked through the Union Bookstore to take some pictures of toddler-sized ISU cheerleader outfits for a friend, then headed over to the Free Speech Zone where the campus Atheists & Agnostics had a booth. After meeting the AA president and agreeing to do some interfaith dialogue (I know, it sounds weird, but it's going to be cool - keep watching), we walked back to the van and headed home for lunch. Beloved came home at about the same time, and after feeding I headed off to a Religious Leaders' Association meeting while Beloved put the girls down for their naps.

I got home at about 3:00 and we decided that after naps we'd go grocery shopping and run some ministry errands together. However, by the time we were done with the grocery shopping, it was pretty apparent that Ainsley was in a bad way. Constant crying and whimpering, with no consolation whatsoever. We put our heads together and figured out that Ainsley hadn't drank anything since lunch, hadn't had a potty or wet diaper all day, and realized she was probably pretty dehydrated. By the time we got home, she was still crying but without tears, and First Nurse advised us to take her to the ER for an IV. Beloved headed off while I fed Alanna and let the dog out for some exercise.

I took some supper over to the ER for Beloved about 30 minutes after they left, and thankfully I was there to help them insert the IV needle. That's an experience I'll not repeat any time soon if it's up to me. The nurse was wonderful, but the first stick hit a valve in her hand, so we had to go for the vein in her elbow. Try explaining that to a toddler who's already miserable because she has sores all over her mouth, a fever, and a dehydration headache to boot. To make matters worse, the elbow vein was a GOOD one - so much so that I wound up with a fairly good spurt of blood on my knee and leg before we could get everything set up. It's one thing to let them stick your own arm - I have no trouble with that. But holding your wailing child and watching her blood land on your leg was a bit much for me. I can't imagine what it must be like for parents whose children bleed due to violence; I'd be in shock, for sure.

Thankfully, the IV was exactly what Ainsley needed. She came home with good color, and it seems she slept pretty well all night. I had campus ministry stuff from 8:30 - 11:00 or so, and when I got home Beloved was in bed with Ainsley helping her sleep. She slept all alone until about 3:00, and when she started crying again I spent the rest of the night in bed with her. When she woke up at 6:30ish, I brought her back into our room so I could get some sleep in my own bed. What happened next is a sign of how much I married above my class. Ainsley and Alanna were both up and running around 8:00, I think, but Beloved took them and stayed with them so I could sleep until almost 11:00. Holy crap, what a woman I married, huh? Now everyone is napping, apparently deeply asleep. The house is beginning to feel a bit smaller than usual, but hopefully we are working our way toward getting everyone up and healthy in the very near future. Thanks again for prayers and well-wishes.

Grace & peace,

Scott

Hand, Foot & Mouth Disease - Day ??

The girls have been on edge since late Sunday morning. I mean ON EDGE: the slightest inconvenience turns into major waterworks and such. "My teeth hurt." "My feet hurt." "ooooooowwwwwwwiiiiiiieeeeeeeee." That's just from Ainsley: Alanna just screams and screams and screams. It's been a rough couple of days. This morning we discovered why.

We have Hand, Foot & Mouth Disease. ALL THREE GIRLS have HFM. I'd never heard of the thing before - the first thing I thought was, "Isn't that something cattle get?" No, it's not, which is good, because we're still holding on to the dream of running a feedlot in the backyard. HFM is a viral infection - we think Ainsley picked it up from daycare, and passed it on to Alanna and Beloved. Most adults can throw it off with little to no problem, but Kristin's not one of those adults, unfortunately.

So, we're in for rough sailing over the next couple of days. Since it's a viral infection, it's contagious and that means no day care. Which means lots of time at home blowing personal leave on sick children. Part of the job description, unfortunately. Pray for us.

Grace & peace,
Scott