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Over a pound of love–no worries, this is the affectionate name for a basket of fries–and some good beer–except Josh, somehow he has been converted to…shutter…Bud Light–we welcomed Jeremy back to Rory’s last night. As always, Jeremy had a question for the night: what do you think about church membership? I will not go into the discussion that we had, but I do want to share with you something I read this morning that deals with that issue. It comes from a book called The Death of Adam: Essays on Modern Thought by Marilynne Robinson–a book that I picked up while getting my substitute notes together this morning. One of the essays is on Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Here is what she has to say about Bonhoeffer and the Church:
By “the church” Bonhoeffer means Christ in this world, not as influence or loyality but as active presence, not as one consideration or motive but as the one source and principle of life of those who constitute the church.
It seems we have a hard time creating this idea of the church in a local body because too often the focus is on influence or loyality and not the active presence of Christ in the body. Food for thought.
Wish me luck, now I must go to a district training on the newly adopted Senior Social Studies materials. It is my belief that school districts remove spoons from training rooms to cut down on missing eyes lawsuits.
If you have not noticed my blogging has slowed down a bit (your RSS readers may have given up on me already.) Should anyone wonder, a correlation can be drawn between my return to work and the decline of my writing; but as we all learned in our science classes, correlation does not mean causation. Making such a declaration of logic, at face value, seems, well, logical; but in my mind, the fellow who coined this correlation and causation dictum must have been thinking: hmm, loophole, loophole…ah yes, I have it.” I suppose that any student who uses this correctly as an excuse should get a pony.
Although work has reduced my writing, it has not stopped my ability to think about writing. About two weeks ago my step mom Peggy called me at work to tell me that she was delivering my dad’s ashes to the submarine where he would be put out to sea. Out of Providence, I road the Sounder into Edmonds and road my bike up Olympic View Drive to work that day.
Part way up Olympic View Drive, the trees clear and a sweeping view of the Sound opened up on my port side; in spite of the chill in the air, the soreness in my legs, and the hill ahead, I felt peace. It was not until after hanging up with Peggy that I realized why I had that moment of peace.
Post Script Here is a picture of Bradie chowing down on her Birthday cupcake. PPS Click for a larger picture.
