Culture Roundup

We gathered with some friends for the Super Bowl last night and, true to form, spent more time watching the commercials than the game.  One of these years I'm going to have to adopt an NFL team I truly love so I might actually care about the game itself if said team ever makes it to the top.

As it is, I'm considering proposing legislation to ban GoDaddy from ever producing a commercial again.  Yeesh.  And as some of my friends noted, there aren't a lot of farmers like the ones Paul Harvey described who could afford the $50,000 pickup Dodge was selling in their commercial, no matter how much it might tug at your heartstrings.  That one and the Clydesdale commercial win for "most likely to make me cry if I watch it by myself."  The Oreo Riot, Miracle Montana Stain and Babylandia were my biggest Laugh Out Loud moments.  And our friends brought a "Snackadium" for us all to enjoy, which we did.  Sloppy Joes, queso, Chex Mix - it was a good night for my tummy 'round these parts.

More Home Improvement (Not Thumb Improvement)

So, the latest steps in our home improvement process are almost complete. Here's a look at what we've done so far with paint, etc.

New kitchen look with "Merlot" on the east wall and "Oregon Coast" everywhere else (yes, we're considering renaming the house "Le Chateau de Paint Names We Liked.")


New dining room curtains and hardware. (The cat is Reggie. He's not new.)


New accent wall in the "dining room." We blatantly stole this look from the wall at our favorite Ames restaurant, the Cafe. We did not, however, steal the pre-chewed ottoman - Jack gave us that one for free.

As to the title of this post: on Friday afternoon I was going to finish up the painting in the kitchen while Beloved and the girls were at the gym. I got home around 4:00, started pulling the oven away from the wall so I could paint behind it, and promptly pulled the oven door off. While trying to put the door back on, one of the hinges popped out of its receptacle and closed on the end of my thumb with horrifying speed and power. The blood flow was immediate, and the amount would have been impressive if it wasn't, you know, MY OWN BLOOD. After about thirty seconds of rinsing it off in the bathroom sink, I realized this was a bit more than an owie, and I also realized the next fifteen minutes were not going to be fun because a) I was home alone with only my Volkswagen to drive to the hospital (my beloved manual transmission Volkswagen, and b) to get to the hospital, I would either have to brave the idiotic four way flashing red lights at 13th and Stange or take a chance on getting green on all the stoplights on Lincoln Way. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to deeply lacerate my non-shifting hand, so I wrapped it up in a washcloth and set off for the emergency room.

I actually got to the hospital with no problems except for cursing the stop and go traffic at 13th and Stange (apparently the alternating pattern of 4-way stops is too cognitively taxing for many Iowa drivers). Once I arrived, it was pretty obvious why I was there. The admitting nurse even looked at me and said, "Laceration?" But they made me wait while the girl in front of me got to see the doctor first. I almost wished I was bleeding more profusely just so I could get somebody to DO something about it. Finally, after triage (seriously? You couldn't ask me if I'm taking drugs while the doctor's looking at my mangled thumb?) and twenty minutes waiting in a room, I got to see the doctor.

In the end I got three stitches and a lot of laughs out of the deal. The actual medical staff were very nice and profusely apologetic about how long it took to actually get me sewed up and on my way home. Apparently 4:30 Friday afternoon is not the best time to slice your thumb in half, as they were very busy with many patients at the time. Once I figured out how to work the TV it wasn't so bad: ESPN Classic was replaying the 2007 Fiesta Bowl and I got to watch Boise State beat Oklahoma again - always a good time. I even felt good enough to drive down to Target and pick up my painkiller prescription before going home.

It was an interesting experience - I haven't been hurt bad enough for an immediate trip to the ER since I seriously sprained my ankle over ten years ago playing church league volleyball. Calling Beloved from the hospital wasn't a lot of fun, but thankfully she took it in stride, found someone to cover her shift, and came to see if I needed her to get me home or whatever. The girls understood that Daddy hurt his thumb, but the doctor was taking care of me, so there weren't any tears or anything. When I got home they didn't understand why I didn't just have a band-aid on it, but the only comment since then has been Ainsley not wanting me to touch her with my owie (frankly, I wouldn't want to be touched with it, either, as you'll see). I even managed to run the 10K I was entered in on Saturday night, and still broke 60 minutes which, considering the last two days, I thought was a victory. Today it doesn't even hurt much - I have only taken two doses of the Vicodin, and good old vitamin I has done the trick since yesterday morning.

It was the crazy start of a good weekend - more on that later. Now, if you don't really care to look at stitches, this would be a good time to head over to Facebook or something.




Okay, we good? Here's some pictures from this morning:



I like how in this last one you can really see how I split the nail pretty good. I said earlier this wouldn't be "Thumb Improvement," but I might be wrong - after all, Keanu Reeves once said "chicks dig scars." I'll have to ask Beloved about that in a few weeks.

Grace & peace,
Scott

What I Do On Mornings Like This

6:00 AM: The alarm on my watch goes off, beeping on my dresser. I get up, get dressed, grind the coffee beans and start the first pot of the day, let the dog out, put in my contacts.

I pour the first cup of steaming bitter blessedness and settle down into the recliner in the basement with my latest book, The Spy Who Came In From The Cold by John le Carre. I'm about 100 pages from the end. I hear Alanna cooing to herself upstairs, and think that I might get twenty pages, maybe thirty, before she insists on getting up and starting her day.

But, wonder of wonders, she goes back to sleep. After about 90 minutes, I have finished the book, including its wonderfully tense final chapters. I check Facebook, make up a few snarky titles for the rumored "Indiana Jones 5," catch up on my Huskers, and read email, which includes the funny poem below, from The Writer's Almanac this morning. Now it's 8:20, I can hear my ladies stirring, and we've missed breakfast at day care - so I'll go upstairs and make scrambled eggs and toast, and we will smile at the luxury of sleeping in and reading good books.

Thus far it's been a nearly perfect morning. Please let's not ruin it, shall we?

Grace & peace,

Scott

A Wife Explains Why She Likes Country

by Barbara Ras

Because those cows in the bottomland are black and white, colors
anyone can understand, even against the green
of the grass, where they glide like yes and no, nothing in between,
because in country, heartache has nowhere to hide,
it's the Church of Abundant Life, the Alamo,
the hubbub of the hoi polloi, the parallel lines of rail fences,
because I like rodeos more than golf,
because there's something about the sound of mealworms and
leeches and the dream of a double-wide
that reminds me this is America, because of the simple pleasure
of a last chance, because sometimes whiskey
tastes better than wine, because hauling hogs on the road
is as good as it gets when the big bodies are layered like pigs in a cake,
not one layer but two,
because only country has a gun with a full choke and a slide guitar
that melts playing it cool into sweaty surrender in one note,
because in country you can smoke forever and it'll never kill you,
because roadbeds, flatbeds, your bed or mine,
because the package store is right across from the chicken plant
and it sells boiled peanuts, because I'm fixin' to wear boots to the dance
and make my hair bigger, because no smarty-pants, just easy rhymes,
perfect love, because I'm lost deep within myself and the sad songs call me out,
because even you with your superior aesthetic cried
when Tammy Wynette died,
because my people
come from dirt.

"A Wife Explains Why She Likes Country" by Barbara Ras, from One Hidden Stuff. © Penguin Poets, 2006.

The UnBlogable Day

No, it's not what you might think. Today has actually been a really, really good day. But it has been so full that I haven't had time to blog about any of it, even though I've had several "that'll blog" moments, including:

• The 'full circle' lectionary study this afternoon;
• Driving with my windows down in February;
• Generous congregations continuing to rise out of nowhere to support campus ministry;
• Holy time spent in discernment with one of our students at a local coffee shop (yes, one might say we were on "holy grounds");
• A truly excellent run;
• A remarkable email I received from my ex-wife;
• The mystery of Sunday's worship service; and
• Tonight's realization that the church REALLY needs more teachers like Rob Bell.

That's just a few of the "that'll blog" moments from today. I might get to some of them this week. I might not. Right now, it's time to sip a beer, read the evening paper and find my way to bed before I fall asleep in the recliner downstairs. Good night, friends.

Today's Treat

No - not that. I'm trying to lose weight, remember?

Nope, today's treat was of the calorie-free variety, but almost as sweet. I just got off the phone from a long conversation with a campus ministry alum here at Iowa State. He and his wife were married in our building, lived in the student apartment (back when it was an apartment and not just a room) and he served as the ISU Lutheran Student Association president for a year or two. We talked for roughly twenty minutes about campus ministry, what it's like for me being here, how things have changed since his time as a student, and how he and his wife could help us financially with some basic ministry needs.

One of the things that most concerned me when I accepted this call was the necessity of fundraising for campus ministry. Frankly, I despise the use of the "f-word" in relation to our ministry here; I much prefer to call it "Stewardship." But one of my bosses says that what we're actually doing is FRIEND-raising, and though the term is a little cutesy for my taste, I understood what he meant when he first mentioned it to me. After today's conversation, I think I can do it, too.

Was the phone call about a significant financial gift? Well, yes, that was part of our conversation. But the far sweeter treat was the chance to talk with someone who thinks enough of campus ministry to support our work, 50 years after his own time in our ministry. He asked me to greet "all my fellow students that I haven't met yet" the next time we get together, and you know, I'm going to do just that. Simply put, this fellow gets why we're here, and he wants to help make sure we stay here for a while, and that's a treat.

The other part of these kinds of treats is this: I get to start making calls to our supporters next week, to thank them for their gifts to our ministry. We're going to get students to make some of the calls, also, which I think will be a real treat for them. I wonder if maybe this will be the place where some of our students start to learn what the "cloud of witnesses" is all about - if so, that'd be a treat, too.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go try and think about something other than hot fudge sundaes for a while - finding that picture set my mouth a-watering.

Peace,
Scott

Finding My Spot By The Fire

One of the most endearing memories I have of Larry, my mentor and campus pastor, comes from this time of year. Larry hated winter. I mean, he despised being cold with every fiber of his not-so-well-padded being. Skinny Germans with high metabolisms do not fare well north of the Mason-Dixon line, and even in Lincoln, Nebraska, winter can get cold. So, for a few months every year, Larry would come to the Student Center and immediately throw on the burgundy sport coat he kept in his office for just such weather. Then, when one of us pyromaniacs in the Student Center community would come in and build a fire, he'd come out of his office and find his spot by the fire. He'd warm his hands in front of the grate, and have a seat at the table. If it was really cold, he'd stand just to the left of the fireplace, with his skinny butt pressed up against the stones to keep himself warm.

One of the things I first noticed about the Lutheran Center here in Ames was the fireplace - it's almost exactly like the one in Lincoln. In fact, I have my suspicions that, given the similiarities in construction and the roughly concurrent construction dates, our buildings share the same architect and/or designer. Today, in a burst of inspiration, I finally figured out where my own spot by the fire will be. I've moved two of our wingback chairs on either side of the fireplace, set up a reading lamp, and made myself cozy. With a cup of hot chocolate at my side and a fire burning merrily in the fireplace, it's a nice spot to be.

And so goes the continuing saga of campus ministry for me. Ames is beginning to feel more and more like "our town," which is very good. The campus ministry game is slowing down for me, in football terms: like a quarterback who's learning a complicated offense, I'm starting to see how things fit together and the subtle nuances that can really make or break our ministry. Today, as I sat here writing my sermon, it occurred to me that perhaps someone will remember me in this spot like I remember Larry in his, and if that were to happen, well, I'd be pretty happy to be remembered so fondly. (Except for one of our students, who can't come into the building when there's a fire in the fireplace because of soot and airborne particulate allergies. So, I guess there's only one guarantee, and that's that D will NEVER remember me like this. :-) )

So, here are warm Friday wishes to you all, from my comfy spot by the fire. Peace, friends.

Scott

ps: if you are of the praying sort, please keep my friend Ellen in your prayers - she's received a pretty scary bit of health news today. thanks.

Favorite Christmas Albums

There's a discussion going on over at RevGals about favorite Christmas music. I thought I'd post a few of my favorites here.

The first has appeared before on this blog, but it's worth another mention. The Bells of Dublin is fantastic from start to finish, with one noticeable exception (those of you who own the album already know exactly which track is the one in question). Highlights include Elvis Costello singing "St Stephen's Day Murders," "The Wren," "Don Oiche Ud I mBethil"and an absolutely beautiful version of "Once In Royal David's City."


Because we liked the first album so much, I picked up A Christmas in Rome two years ago. It has grown on my quite a bit. It's a wonderful album overall, with another exception that isn't as awful as the one on Bells of Dublin, just a curious "how the heck does this fit?" track. Highlights include the Overture and Lullabies.

Some would insist that you can't be a Lutheran musician in the U.S. without loving the St. Olaf Choir. I'm one of them, for many reasons: the tradition, the incredible "St. Olaf Sound," and a dedication to furthering the art of a capella choral singing. This CD, however, has very little a capella work, but it's still worthy of mention. It was recorded in Trondjeim, at Nidaros Cathedral, and if I remember right a video performance has been broadcast a few times over the past few years on PBS. Here the highlights include "O Come, All Ye Faithful" (the descant WILL be sung in our Lessons and Carols service next year!), "Light Everlasting" and "Hope for Resolution," the last of which is a jazz treatment of Divinum Mysterium (Of the Father's Love Begotten) mixed with an original composition. That's good stuff, there.

So, there you have it. Three albums guaranteed to treat you better than one more version of "The Christmas Song" or "Little Drummer Boy." You're welcome.

Storyhill: Parallel Lives

Big news: the Storyhill documentary has been released! I'm really excited to see it, but just in case someone might make it a Christmas gift I'm going to hold off ordering it for myself. Here's a clip for those of you who are interested:

Johnny Appleseed Friday Five

OOOOOOOh, the Lord is good to me, and so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need, the sun and the rain and the appleseed,
The Lord is good to me. Amen. Amen. Amen amen amen. AAAAAAAAmen!

From RevGalBlogPals:

Raise your hand if you know that today is Johnny Appleseed Day!

September 26, 1774 was his birthday. "Johnny Appleseed" (John Chapman) is one of America's great legends. He was a nurseryman who started out planting trees in western New York and Pennsylvania, but he was among those who were captivated by the movement west across the continent.

As Johnny traveled west (at that time, the "West" was places like Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois) he planted apple trees and sold trees to settlers. With every apple tree that was planted, the legend grew. A devout Christian, he was known to preach during his travels. According to legend, Johny Appleseed led a simple life and wanted little. He rarely accepted money and often donated any money he received to churches or charities. He planted hundreds of orchards, considering it his service to humankind. There is some link between Johny Appleseed and very early Arbor Day celebrations.

So, in honor of this interesting fellow, let's get on with the questions!

1. What is your favorite apple dish? (BIG BONUS points if you share the recipe.)

Kristin’s Grandmother’s Brown Bag Apple Pie. Will share the recipe early next week. GOOOD stuff.

2. Have you ever planted a tree? If so was there a special reason or occasion you can tell us about?

We helped my Dad plant a few trees around our house when we were kids, but other than that I haven’t. Now that I’m a homeowner, I hope to plant a tree or two either here or somewhere else before my time is done. Of course, being a native Nebraskan (home of Arbor Day) planting trees is as much in my DNA as Cornhusker football!

3. Does the idea of roaming around the countryside (preaching or otherwise) appeal to you? Why or why not?

Roaming, yes – being an itinerant preacher, NO. I’m way too settled for the latter. But I enjoy finding backroads and getting to know the lay of the land wherever I go – much to Kristin’s occasional chagrin, especially when we take a new route and get lost.

4. Who is a favorite "historical legend" of yours?

King Arthur. I LOVED Le Morte d’Arthur in high school, and I’ve read The Once and Future King several times, along with The Dark Is Rising sequence by Susan Cooper. Granted, it’s not an American historical legend, but it’s my favorite.

5. Johnny Appleseed was said to sing to keep up his spirits as he traveled the roads of the west. Do you have a song that comes when you are trying to be cheerful, or is there something else that you often do?

I love many different genres of music, so my “happy songs” tend to come and go quite a bit. This is going to sound twisted, but lately Green Day’s “American Idiot” has been a favorite. “To live and not to breathe / is to die in tragedy…” There’s a passion for authenticity there that I find so very inspiring. I think “Jesus of Suburbia” is one of the greatest rock songs ever written. Eh, it’s what gets me right now, right?

Anyway, there’s some seeds sown for you! Have a great weekend, everyone – see you Sunday with the sermon.

A Fall Equinox Not-So-Friday Five

Last Friday was a pretty frantic day, with an overnight retreat and the requisite prep work added to a normally busy Friday schedule of final Sunday prep and meetings. So I neglected the Friday Five, much to my regret because it deals with the coming of autumn, my absolute favorite season. So, I'm playing today - the day before the next Friday Five play. Hey, it's my blog, right?

From Songbird, then - last week's Friday Five:

It's that time of year, at least north of the equator. The windows are still open, but the darned furnace comes on early in the morning. My husband went out for a walk after an early supper and came home in full darkness.
And yes, where we live, leaves are beginning to turn.
As this vivid season begins, tell us five favorite things about fall:

1) A fragrance
Harvest and leaves, a combination I always find intoxicating. The smell of corn and beans drying and drawing toward the reaping and leaves falling off trees. There is no way I could ever describe the combination eloquently enough, but I know it when I smell it and I savor that short time when it is all around me.

2) A color

Will this do?


3) An item of clothing
My sweatshirts. Being a naturally warm-blooded guy, I don't usually wear sweatshirts until autumn is in full swing; but when it does come, I love throwing on a good fleece as a warm, comfy insulator against crisp morning air.

4) An activity
Well, for any good Nebraska boy, autumn means football, and of course the football season is dear to my heart. But running this time of year might just be my favorite. The smells and colors are incredible here in the American Midwest from now until the trees are bare in late October. The three years I spent running in the Twin Cities (including the Chain of Lakes, pictured below) and four years running around Barrett Lake in Barrett, MN were wonderful.


5) A special day


Again, not specifically an autumn memory, but marching from Westbrook Music Building to Memorial Stadium in 1992 for my first game as a member of the Cornhusker Marching Band was pretty special. If this were a picture of the 1992 band, I'd have been in the front row, second from the left. Good times. :-)