retiring this blog

After no updates for four months I'm sure no one is surprised that I'm closing down shop here. However I do plan to start blogging again over at http://natalielorinblogs.blogspot.com. I'm hoping to keep things a little more purposeful over there, so come check it out.

America Beware!

I highly suggest folks add Peter Hitchen's blog at the Daily Mail to their google readers. For those who haven't heard of him, Mr. Hitchens is brother to the somewhat famous atheist, Christopher Hitchens, and an all-around straight up fellow. Those looking for an introduction to Peter Hitchens should check out his book Rage Against God which chronicles his decent into communist atheism during his schoolboy years and his subsequent return to the Christian faith and all of it's social and political implications. He's interesting, and an excellent writer, and there should be many more of him speaking out in this demented age. If you wonder why it's important to read a political/social commentary on Great Britain I answer simply that as England was we were and as England has fallen so are we. In Rage Against God Mr. Hitchens sketches a poignant picture of a old and honorable culture dying. Portions of the book made me want to weep for the Grand Dame Britannia who is caught up in the fetters of a post-Christian, post-rational society. Which is not to say that his writings are a pangyric on Western Civilization - there have been far too many ills laid at our door. However, it he does provide a thoughtful, incisive look at what happens when a nation abandons God.

too mad to say

Just image a stream of vitriol strong enough to melt brick at 50 yards. That's what I wish I was doing to a certain someone who abandoned all his vows to leave his church and his wife. Then he got re-married to a woman his wife knew while they were married.



There are not enough words for men like him.

reviving the grad school dream

I finally found the program. New Saint Andrew's College has a new masters program for educators in classical schools with low tuition and low residency requirements. It's lovely. Allen has already said that we can talk about how to make it work out for me to go. It's not going to be this year. I'd have to retake the gre and get just slews of paperwork together, but we're definitely looking at figuring out a way for me to apply. At three weeks a year residency requirement it's even something I could potential do with kids, so I reckon I can afford to wait a little. Until then though I can save my pennies and work on getting my credentials together. Either way I'm really excited about the opportunities here. I'm finally getting to do something important that I've wanted to do for years. It's where I want to be. Speaking of which I have a presentation on Rousseau to write.

stay at home wife

Ok, time out blogsphere. Where are the blogs for stay at home wives? Can someone point me to even one? 'Cause I've done a little cruising around and as of yet haven't found any blog that really managed to write for women like me. There are plenty of homemaking blogs, but practically all of them veer off into Momland at some point. I'm reading this great post about organizing your time and discover that it's a post about how moms should use their time. Nothing against moms here. They are the salt of the earth and bearers of our future. But. I'm not a mom. I don't have to balance play time with me time with hubby time with...... I've got a whole heck of a lot of me time that I have to balance with my incipient laziness and my desire to put my fingers in too many pies. Believe it not, my needs are different. I'm not a single person with a husband or a mom without kids. I'm a wife who stays at home while my husband goes off to work. While I'm not ideologically committed to this way of life for everyone (or even for all seasons of my own life) it's what works now. And by "stays at home" I mean rises around 6:30 twice a week to go volunteer at a classical Christian school along with the various other ways I try to help out my church and community. I'm no "church worker," but I do try to put myself out there and help. Sometimes I help too much and laze around too much at home. Sometimes I do a pretty good job at home and feel the need to reach out more. It's balancing act with a huge learning curve for me. If I had more brains or a better handle on things I might try writing my own stay a home blog for wives. But what would I write about? I'm not sure. There'd be lots of links to Femina (see sidebar) and lots of questions. Of answers I am not so sure. Still, I wish we had more examples that didn't jump straight to motherhood. I wish I had a better idea what I was doing here. I wish I could shake the last of this lousy cold so I can actually start doing it.

philosphy of hiking

When you spend 8-10 hours hiking up a mountain side you have a lot of time to think. At such times a lot of my thoughts center on just why I wanted to climb this mountain in the first place. After a few hours just putting one foot in front on another can lose its novelty. It's uphill all the way, there's a weight on your back, and the trail is pretty dusty. For a while I just think about where my boots are landing and watching the dust puff up. I listen to my pack creaking and hear the scrapes and clicks of my trekking poles as we traverse a stretch of granite covered hill side. I remember all the days I decided I was too tired to do my yoga or visit the gym, and I wish I'd taken the time when I could. Then I remember the days when I did my workouts anyway and am grateful for the ongoing push and pull of my muscles as I persevere over rain rutted trails and push upwards over awkwardly stair stepped boulders. Gulping the ever thinning oxygen into my lungs I inwardly say thanks that I've been able to work at correcting my anemia. I'm tired but not exhausted. Weary and yet eager to reach the top. I'm stronger for this hill than I was for the last. I rest my eyes on the peaks before me and reach for our evening's camp.

These are most of my thoughts as I tramp my slow way up the mountain. I'm the tortoise and not the hare. I walk long and arrive at camp after others have eaten. But I'm here. I can breathe the sweet September air and feel the first breath of winter rush over us every night. And so I walk over the mountains thinking these simple thoughts. Then, I raise my foot, put it down, and realize that this is life. It is so simple and yet so true. All of our days we spend making our way over the course set before us. We remember the good decisions and the bad, and we add to them according to our own bents. Sometimes we can rest our eyes on some goal and stretch out our hearts to it. Other times life closes in around us and rises before us so that all we can do is keep moving forward in faith that once day we'll reach the top of the mountain and find rest for our journey. The only way to learn how to live is to do it. Providence is both teacher and taskmaster. Every good decision I make at home makes my time on the mountains easier. Every lesson I learn on the mountain illustrates and prepares me for my life at home. I have found it so in other areas as well. Life teaches itself. God is revealed everywhere. We just have to keep looking.


Cause if you keep looking around and putting one foot in front on another, you might end up here:

From Vogelsang

Fletcher Peak on the trail up to Lake Vogelsang. Sometimes it's good to be reminded both of how far we've come and what lies ahead.

lazy backpacker

I'm prepping for another backpacking trip -possibly the last one this year :( For being too fond of reclining on my sit-me-down-upon* I'm constantly dreaming of unseen peaks and sunsets. I have a hard time getting all my laundry folded, but I long to head out for a stretch of meadow I've never visited and rest my eyes on the ranged peaks encircling and stretching away beyond me. At such times I'm deeply aware of my internal conflicts and compromises. I want to be uber-housewife with a sparkling kitchen, folded laundry, and tidy shelves. In practice I'm easily distracted by books, youtube, and computer games. I strive, and I fall back. For weeks and months I'll plan and dream of some trip only to discover that in the days previous I'd really like a mug of cocoa and a cozy chair from which to enjoy the view. Unfortunately some views are only had with a bit of struggling and scrabbling, and armchairs with the views I require don't come cheap. So I go out in the woods and pretend to be strong and capable, and then I come home and realize how completely lazy I tend to be. In some ways I feel it's one of the deepest disconnects in my character - this chasm between who I suspect I am and who I would really like to pretend to be. Maybe it's just part of the human condition. I think of what Paul said. At any rate, it's once more into the breach. Every day when I find I've wasted my morning or afternoon I just have to pull myself back together and go redeem some of that time - even if it's just a couple hours. Fall down. Get back up. Trip. Sprint. Fall and bash head. Get up again. Stumble about some. Rinse repeat. It's hard to call it progress, but I suppose you could blind determination not to be a slug - not to fall back and miss all the beautiful things that are hard to get and hard to hold. Like mountain sunsets.

(Although if my hiking actually looked anything like that I think I'd stay home. A bashed head ten miles into the backcountry ain't fun. Also, I really hope it's not too cold.)




Dorothy Sayers was in many ways a brilliant author.

not thinking things through

I keep feeling the need to write, to think, and to be be introspective about this whirlwind we call life. Well, I call it a whirlwind, but sometimes it seems more like one of those hills you see around here - all smooth and grass-covered. Lovely to look at on a drive up 280 but pretty boring after you've been sitting on one for a couple of hours. I look at all the tree a few times, count the ants running around a log, and decide to keep hiking 'cause I've already taken a nap and am getting pretty antsy myself. Extended descriptions aside, whether life is currently a maddening torrent or a particularly boring stretch of lazy river I like to think about what I'm doing. Lately though most of my thoughts have run more like this:

You know I really feel like I could say something about (marriage, dating, the academic elite, women in society, Dorothy Sayers, etc), but [sitting down to write a blog post] here's this implication and that implication. I really don't know enough to be writing about this.

Then I go check my e-mail again and never put in the work to sort out my thoughts on (virtual) paper. In the end I suppose that's another form of laziness. I want to have a considered life, but I don't want to put in the effort. When I do feel like putting in the effort I'm often off doing something else. So that's why I haven't been writing anything very much to the point. Also, I'm tired. My sleep cycles are completely out of whack right now, and no amount of supplements can compensate for that. Hopefully this is just another temporary dip in the search for a healthy equilibrium, but until then I'm just having to ride it out.

Lassen Volcano

Allen and I spent Labor Day over at Lassen Volcanic National Park. It's a really lovely place to visit. Maybe it's just that I was tired, but the park didn't feel as fast paced as some of the other parks I've visited. We didn't spend every hour of the day trying to see everything we could see, and we both had a really good time. We even took some time out to just lie in the hammocks reading. Still, we did a fair bit. Sunday we hiked seven miles, and read for two hours before heading back to the tent for some tortellini soup and a sip of whiskey around the campfire. There's a trail around Manzanita Lake at the base of Lassen Peak that we took both evenings we were there. It's a pleasant little two mile stroll with what are probably the best views of Lassen Peak at sunset. The alpen glow was pretty fantastic the second night in particular. I don't know that I've ever seen a mountain turn that particular shade of pink. Unfortunately I'd left my camera back at the campsite that evening and don't have a picture.

During our hikes Allen and I got to reconnect somewhat and discuss the coming months. We're going to try and introduce some basic routines into our schedules and make more space for productivity and real relaxation. Of course I'm writing this while I should be in bed. What can I say? There was a reason we needed to discuss this stuff. Of course we also talked about fun stuff - like comparing Vanity Fair to Wives and Daughters and Wives and Daughters to Mansfield Park. We really do have the best conversations when we allow time for them to ripen. Aside from literature we tackled race and class in American society and the significance of language. There's a reason we married each other. We were only the only two left chattering after everyone else had gone back to the football game. You laugh, but that did happen on more than one occasion while we were getting to know each other :)

Overall we had a very good trip, and I'm hoping to carry some of that momentum forward into Fall. It's going to get rather busy between now and Epiphany, and I'd like to be ready for it if I can.

moving forward

Got to talking with what I hope will turn out to be a new friend and discovered that there's a classical Christian school that's hiring for the school year. After calling them I decided not to apply, but I did discover an opportunity to volunteer at the school and hopefully learn something of classical Christian educational methods from the inside. As for why I didn't apply, there were several reasons.

1. They had already found a candidate for they position they liked and for whom they were preparing a job offer. Throwing myself into the mix would only have prolonged the uncertainty right before the school year started and probably unnecessarily so. Which brings me to my next two points.

2. Practically no experience teaching a class. I've tutored and things of that sort, but I've never led a class in my life. Some people would just jump right in and give it a try, and if they hadn't already had a candidate they liked I might have been tempted to myself. However I really do better knowing my boundaries and having a somewhat clear idea of what my limits are. I prefer to grow slowly rather than by constantly flinging myself from one cliff after another to test my wings.

3. The final reason I decided not to apply is because I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to jump immediately into full time employment. Having found out about the position less than 24 hours previously I didn't feel confident of making a decision like that so quickly.

However, the headmaster did send me a volunteer application. This excites me tremendously because I can get some training and insight into how classical education works and hopefully use that knowledge either when we have kids or when I decide to look for a job myself. I'm somewhat passionate about education, but until I learned about classical methods I never found anything I could stomach long enough to get the necessary credentials to teach. Instead of spending a significant amount of money and time getting credentials in a pedagogy that I personally find appalling just so I could try and leverage that into a foundation for the kind of teaching position I would like to have I can (hopefully) volunteer at this school and get the sort of foundation I would need to later teach there or at another school of that type. I've been wondering what my next step needed to be, and I think I just might have found it.

Anyway, I need to go to bed 'cause tomorrow will be a long day. I've got some of Allen's friends coming over for supper, and I decided there would be lots of lovely lemony cake to go around. That means I need to get some sleep tonight, so I don't fall asleep over the lemon curd tomorrow afternoon.

Must read Shakespeare

Have you read Much Ado About Nothing lately? If so you really need to read it. Seriously. Go pick up your old Norton Anthology (or I bet you could even find it on-line) and read it. It's pretty much the best Shakespeare play ever. After you've read it go check out Kenneth Branagh's movie version. Or you could do what I did. Check out the movie from the library. Read Peter Leithart's commentary on the play. Pick up my Norton Anthology and read the play. Watch the movie again and discover that Beatrice and Benedict really do make one of the best love stories of all time. The introduction to my Norton tried to argue that Beatrice and Benedict don't really love each other, but in my opinion that's a whole lot of tosh. That critic has probably never flirted in his or her life - or at least never flirted with half the wit it takes to read a Shakespeare play. There's also a lot of good stuff in there about loyalty, wisdom, love, and honesty. Just compare how Claudio and Benedict behave towards their friends and their sweethearts. Plus, for Shakespeare it's quite readable. Got to love the insults. No one can write a good insult like Shakespeare.

pretty glacier, pretty valley

I would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that some of our nations most magnificent scenery is the result of some vast, glorious glacier melting away and leaving behind such splendid rock work as can be seen 24/7/365 at Yosemite National Park. I would therefore submit that glacier melt is not inherently bad. Whether or not it's bad right this moment is for wiser souls to determine.

a rant in miniature

Not voting or voting for a third party does not mean that you sold out, don't care, are a blinking ideologue, or otherwise don't deserve to be recognized as a part of the political power structure. For a lot of America not voting means expressing a no confidence vote in the candidates and the political structure. This isn't apathy. It's reality. Until the right-wing Christians realize that the Republican Party is bleeding them for their shiny happy family values and their shiny American dollars without wanting any actually part of the Sovereign Christ who established our moral foundation we're going to be in trouble. Until the bright-eyed left wing Christians realize that Democrats just want to pluck their tender heart strings and weave a soothing song of compassion into wide scale theft we're going to be in trouble. Instead of waving slogans and banners around a Washington alive to the lust of power and dead the ways of God I vote we give them a finger waggling, thumbs in the ears, "neener-neener" salute and go back to trying to be good Christians. I'd say this nation has had too much political wrangling and not enough disciplining. Votes haven't changed very much of anything for the better in my short lifetime. I think we'd all be better off doing more praying. I'm better at blogging than praying, but I'm going to give it a shot. Good night this nation is insane! The loonies are running the nuthouse, and I think somewhere along the way we gave them the keys.

and she said Allen wouldn't camp

So many times I don't understand the world in which I live. For instance, I remember my mom getting very upset that I was contemplating marriage to a man who didn't camp. She was upset that I could see giving up something that I'd enjoyed for so long. Then she turned on me and accused me of never really enjoying it, of lying and pretending to enjoy something that had been part of our family culture and figured so largely in some of my most precious family memories. In the end I think she was accusing me of not being a member of the family. Now that I'm in the middle of planning trips and looking up backpacking meal ideas I recall how upset she was that night in the car where we sat talking while waiting for the younger kids to come out of church. She never came back and said she was mistaken about Allen. She condemned him for not being a certain kind of man, but when he surpassed everyone's expectations by sleeping on the ground and strapping on snowshoes she never apologized. She never said that perhaps she was mistaken about this aspect of his character or interests or his capacity to willingly do a thing because he loves me. That didn't change her. I wonder. What was that argument really about. When I was trying to defend my interest in man who'd said he'd like to go see Colorado National Monument with me, what was that really about? I don't think it was about camping. I don't know if was even really about me. It was probably about her, but I really don't even think that matters much. Listening to that argument one would think she feared breaking the family culture -that I would go off and be a person whom I had not been before and live a life different from hers. When Allen and I married we taught each other new interests. We carry on the cultures of both families and don't belong wholly to either. I wish that could be enough. Why it isn't I don't know.

remembering Yosemite

Amid all the hustling with maps and guidebooks, trying to figure out vacation time in the most efficient way possible, I feel like I've lost something. Thinking back to the first time Allen and I visited Yosemite I recall how Allen and I didn't have everything figured out. We took a few wrong turns (bad signage in part) and got the campground so late that wouldn't even let us come in and set up. We ended up sleeping in the car with our necks cricked awkwardly and fleece blankets tucked in the windows in an attempt to block the blaring light of the parking lot. As one might guess we arose early with the energy of sore limbs prodding us to be anywhere but there. Pulling out of our would be campground we rolled east through early morning mists that banded about the stands of pine trees on either side, eager to forget our aching necks in the wonder of this fabled valley. As we drove through the mountains we joined up with the Merced river flowing out from Yosemite's moist valleys. The road swept us up into a cleft in the mountain range as we followed the river ever inward. Finally, the mountains opened, and the whole force of the Yosemite Valley broke upon us. With the sun still drifting gently upwards from the rim of the valley, I recall how everything seemed shrouded in golden wraps -El Capitan and Half Dome thrusting their heads through misty draperies that pooled on the valley floor. Against the other wall the silken scarf of Bridalveil Falls waved and danced in greeting. It seemed a lost corner of Eden sent to refresh the souls of men. That is how I first saw Yosemite.

Remembering my first awestruck enjoyment of the peaks and valleys now become so much more family I wonder if perhaps I lose something with my everlasting counting of miles and researching of trailheads. I will never see all there is to see, and there are little to no bad directions. Should I perhaps, in trips planning as well as life, learn to let things go a little? I will never see all there is to behold, and the work I can find for my hands will never be done. Sometimes I think the hardest part of being human is learning to be incomplete and unfinished. Even the majestic Yosemite is thing always changing and never complete. And God has had many more lifetimes to mold that granite than to shape my stubborn heart.

the snooty foodie test

Do you know the taco bell song? If yes, you're definitely not a snooty foodie. If no, ask yourself if you know the greasy pizza song. If still no, you just might be a foodie. If so get thee to the best greasy pizza joint in town and order it with extra sausage.

Dang.

Now I'm hungry.



P.S. I'm posting this because sometimes I think I'm a snooty foodie myself, and it's such a relief to know I'm not always a snooty foodie. Even when I'm buying organic white sugar.*







*I don't really do that.

in retrospect

The ladies over on Femina posted saying they were going to have a blog party and invited everyone to post links to their blogs so folks could roam around visiting. Got me to thinking about some of my older posts. Consider this a warning or maybe a plea for clemency. I've mellowed out some on the last couple years. Some things matter more. Some things matter less. Either way I'm less strident. I don't have to defend myself so much. So if you're reading back through the archives just remember -older is wiser :D

Allen, blisters, and rainy trail days

While Allen was out with his buddies at a conference in Atlanta I went on my first backpacking trip with a friend from church. We went out to Pt. Reyes and set up our tent at Glen Camp before hiking out to Alamere Falls. It's a lovely little fall that comes out right on the beach. Beautiful! Unfortunately we underestimated the mileage and ended up hiking back in the dark on lots of steep inclines. Not fun. Fortunately we had tortellini and a platy of wine waiting for us back at our tent. Don't know that the wine did my sore muscles any good, but it sure helped my way past the end of my endurance outlook on life. Well, the pesto helped a lot there too. We had talked about making a longer, ten mile loop, out of the park in the morning, but our sixteen mile day up and down hills had us pretty whacked. So we ended up packing up our gear in a very light misty rain and hiking out through the drizzle. I'd found two large blisters on my fourth toes that morning that even moleskin couldn't help very much. By the time we got back to the car I was wet, footsore, but still oddly glad to be out hiking through the woods. The rain actually made our typically dry California scenery look very lush and mysterious seen through the drifting bands of fog that shrouded coastlines and hills. Over all I had a very good trip. This whole weekend since Allen left has gone much better than I expected. Once again I've discovered that I'm a stronger person that I think I am, and that's very encouraging. Now Allen is back home (hurrah! hurray!), and everything is very good. I even found a Granite Gear pack I can take on my next backpacking trip. Usually I'd never even think about buying one of them because they're some of the most expensive packs out there, but good old REI was selling them for $150 off through their deal of the day program. If it works I'll have found more pack than I could ever dream of getting at a price I thought couldn't be done with a satisfaction guarantee that's the best in the business. That is a good week!

This barren earth

Question: What do you do when you do believe that people (ideally Christians) do have the God-given right to have large bountiful families and simultaneously you hold that no holds barred environmental rape is a Bad Thing?

Short Answer: I think that means you're invisible. The enviro-wackos think you're a huge crock of whatsit, and the Far Right (or the religious right) will look at you in disbelief when you try to start a thoughtful conversation about mining on federally protected lands.

Seriously, I've been lurking on this backpacking thread talking about how humans as a species already take up too much space and that going around breeding like we owned the place is a threat to the very values that "we" (outdoor aficionados) hold dear. They're serious. They want to see women educated to a point where they no longer want to have large families, free contraceptives and sterilization, tax laws that punish large families, etc. All this in the name of mother earth and sharing with other species. And it's not like they think each family should get a resource budget that they can use for one kid or for ten. They think you just shouldn't be having that many kids -that even if you raise your six kids to bike commute, compost, and never use plastic bags you're still hurting then environment because you're having way more kids than you "need." It actually makes for some kind of scary reading. Misguided too. Face it, the birthers are always going to win because they're the one's having the kids that are going to outvote, outfight, and plain outnumber the kids you aren't having. These people talk about technology like it's bad because it enables the earth to support an artificially inflated number of people. "Who gave them the right to breed like this and clog the earth with our species?" Uhhh, God? Oh right. You don't believe in God. The point is that they want people to be barren so that the earth will be fruitful. But that doesn't seem to be the way God set things up. If you look at Scripture God is all about fruitfulness. Children are fruit. The works of righteousness are fruit. Fruit on a fig tree is fruit. The children of fruitfulness cultivate the garden so that it will bear even more fruit. In God's economy more seems to equal more. The more we need grace the more it abounds. The more we forgive the more we experience forgiveness. God wants and calls us to cultivate abundance. How exactly this works on environmental issues I don't quite know, but I do know that Christians are called to populate the earth and that as a reflection of God's glory we should strive to use this earth in the most beautiful and fruitful possible. Fertility should call forth fertility and abundance reap as it has sown. The arguments posed by people wishing to limit population size are in some ways compelling if you accept that people can (and do) use the earth in less appropriate ways. However, their arguments lack wisdom because they rebel against God's revelation. I've stayed quiet on this particular issue (on the forum I read) because I doubt I can contribute anything useful to the discussion. Like I said, people like me seem to be largely invisible to the wider culture. We aren't busy creating Christian versions of the latest earth fad, and we aren't on the street corners chanting "Drill! Drill!" We're those quiet people who reject most of the environmentalist's premises and yet think that Christians can and should have thoughtful discussions on cultivating this earth in a distinctly Christian fashion. And I think that discussion needs to begin and end with an attempt to understand what God views as fruitfulness.

Fear and Fatherhood

I've been reading an interesting book lately. It's called Holy Curiosity: Encountering Jesus' Provocative Questions and is written by Winn Collier. I picked up off a five dollar table at one of those bookstores that tend to pop up overnight in the mall during Christmas season and consists of a dozen tables with books basically poured out on them. Anyway, I picked up this book, and it's proved rather fascinating. Basically the author looks at the questions that Jesus asked his disciples (and others) during His ministry on earth and asks "Why?" What purpose could God have in asking this question and not the dozen other questions that we would have asked? What can learn from answering these questions ourselves? Why did Jesus ask this particular question at this particular time to this particular group of people? The answers that Collier comes up with are both challenging and encouraging. One chapter in particular caught my attention. In his third chapter titled "Why are you afraid? The grace of letting go," Collier looks at Jesus' question to the disciples when caught in the storm on the Sea of Galilee. On this chapter Collier has a lot of good things to say about fear and the way it works with our lives and our faith, but I was particularly struck by two things. One, Jesus was afraid (ie in the Garden of Gethsemane and again on the cross when God turned His face away). Two, often times our more superficial fears (say of monsters under the bed) are actually manifestations of our loneliness and our fear that we really do have to face the "brutality of life" by ourselves. Collier illustrates this by looking to his own discussions of bedtime monsters with his son. Collier writes:

Wyatt fears he will be left to himself to fend off the menace his imagination conjures up for him...Wyatt wants to know that, as he says it, "If I really need something, you'll come up." So, even as I tell Wyatt that there are no monsters, I want to be quicker to tell him what he needs most to hear--that his safety is not in his own hands, that if any scary creatures are foolish enough to enter my son's room, his dad will be there, hell-on-wheels, faster than he can blink, to dish out a grade-A monster butt whoopin'

Collier goes on to explain to his son how he will be there like greased lightning to pummel any monster his son sees. The reason, he tells his son, not to be afraid of monsters is not because they don't exist but because his "daddy is stronger than any monster there is."

I know that's a fairly extended quote, but I latched on to it because just last week talking to my counselor he observed that there must be times when I feel very lonely. I realized that he's right. I've spent the better part of my life not fitting in and not measuring up, and it's been lonely. On top of that I've been scared. I never really saw how the two might fit together though until I started reading this chapter. Because if you'll look at what Collier says elsewhere in this chapter he's essentially saying that to be alone is to be afraid because that means there's no one outside up to help us face up the brutal realities of life. Loneliness says that it's all up to us--there's no one I can rely on except for myself. And I don't know about the rest of the world, but I'm pretty well aware that one very determined cat could wreck some serious havoc on my rear. That's not to mention germs, cars, muggers, earthquakes, loose gravel, stray bullets, political unrest and all the other bogeymen of my imagination. Of course at this point Collier goes on to talk about our need for God, but honestly one of the things that caught me most was his portrayal of fatherhood. Growing up I always had the impression that Dad would throw himself between any of us and an oncoming car cheerfully with no hesitation. What I also learned growing up was that Dad wasn't going to stand between me and the real monsters that scarred my life. The few times I went to him saying "Dad it hurts when Mom teases me about this, can you help me" I came away discouraged and undefended. It was up to me to take the abuse, alone. I had no champion at all until Allen came along and finally asked what the hell was going on. He was the first person who attempted to fight the monsters under my bed.

I find all this immensely interesting because the way I look at my dad is (big surprise) similar to the way I look at God. If Dad wasn't big enough/loving enough to fight for me then I don't see why God would be either. And so the monsters, not seeing anyone around with proper butt kicking gear, keep trying to multiply. I keep trying to push forward into my fears instead of running away from them. And many times I still feel alone. I need to find the God who is there because to be quite honest the God I know is the one who still hasn't figured out how to keep poor children in Africa from dying of malnutrition. Yes, He died on the Cross to save us from the wrath of God. Yes, He is the perfect Creator of the Universe. Yes, He is God as revealed by His word in the Bible. Sometimes I just wish I could find the God who sits by my bed and tells me not to worry about the monsters in the closet because Jesus has a special roundhouse kick for closet monsters and He'll be here in two snaps if any monster tries anything in my bedroom. And then maybe He could help my mom.

I wish my dad had taken the time to show me that kind of God. Maybe Dad doesn't know that kind of God exists either. I wish he could have though.