Sok is dead

Sok was a wary soul.
Spending time amongst those of previous generations, he witnessed an acting out of the faith. It disturbed him, and he cautioned against becoming as they were: functioning Christians who partake in the activity of the faith but do not live in a manner of the faithful.

"My prayer, O Lord, is that I never become as they are..."

The foolishness of Sok was to misunderstand the path leading from one who is laying down before the living God Jehovah to one who does as Christians do (when in Rome...). It is not the path of overt decisions against faith; rather, it is the path of daily living, of small decisions unnoticed and the rare large decision rationalized. We end up where we are walking, even in this occasion, without realizing we were on the journey.

"...if the salt has become tasteless, how will it be made salty again?"
[matthew]

Sok is dead. Alan, who is Sok, is a bit shocked to realize it.

"But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love... even when we were dead in our sins, made us alive with Christ"
[ephesians]

Maybe God will see fit to perform one of those acts He seems so very dedicated to: the resurrection of who He made me to be.

Abide in Me, and I in you... he who abides in Me, and I in him, he bears much fruit... by this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be My disciples."
[john]

We talk big, and walk small, and the world has found us out.

death of a niceman

As I have opened up to realizing and acknowledging the 'spot' that I am residing in at this moment in life, with a general pervading of unhappiness not common in my nature, I see how seeds of cynicism have taken root - I am wholeheartedly halfhearted about it.
I was not then as I am now.
October last we had friends of the past six years over for lunch - a group who have known and traveled with me in my adult-adult years. An honest, unpretentious comment casually forwarded in response to me cavorting in favor of my gentleman nature: I am not a nice guy. Cutting me 'to the quick', I did not know how to respond. My friends were honestly assessing me: I was not who I fancied I was. More accurately, who I remembered myself to be.
I was once one of the nicest guys people knew. A ridiculous statement, to be sure, but factually accurate. Maggie married him, not me.
The observations were not made with venomous intent, but I was shamed. The little Jesuses of my daily life, my wife, my children, my friends, neighbors, coworkers... they share space with one who has lost his generous smile and humble nature. Maggie says that my actions were still right by God, but my eyes were opened to the wake of my words and tones heaved upon others. The quick-witted leader may have followers and evoke laughter, but does not honor God or His creation with the enormous respect they both deserve. Plead to God, plead for His forgiveness. 'Restore us, Elohey Tzebaoth, make your face shine upon us, that we may be saved' (psalm80).
It is dangerous folly to rest ourselves in the knowledge that any particular aspect of our Character is complete. Rather, we continuously remake ourselves through our daily living. It may be that I learned that in October, and that God began something in me that day which has stripped me of my pretense and replanted a Christian tenderness towards others once in bloom within me. With God's help, I may yet be saved from the curmudgeon.

i love lida

Emily and Louise went to new york(whatever that is) and got an Ariel CD.

Lida is making me listen to it all day. It is very long - I say ''no lida no'', and she says, ''yes gawwet''.

unknown talents

Emily is partaking in an end-of-school sing-song play of sorts in a few weeks. She attends a non-school, home-school, school away from home... thing one day a week. Every student participates in the event, which will involve 80 hours of preparation, a decent bit of stress, and 4-5 minutes of a show... a long-standing tradition in cultures that no longer have to worry about what to eat.
We were told that she was going to sing the lead solo parts. Emily's brain is strangely attuned to the art of memorization, so we were not surprised by this announcement.

Maggie teaches a 2nd day at this non-school, home-school, school away from home... thing each week as well, with Emily repeating a few of the classes and spending the rest of her time playing hacky sack and smoking behind the cafeteria.
The music teacher asked Maggie the other day if Emily could sing the solo parts for that classroom as well: "She sings so beautifully. It really is a joy to hear her voice"Silence. Initial assumption that the teacher is making fun of Emily... then slow realization that the teacher is serious, does indeed like Emily's singing voice, and wants her to perform in the other class' sing song show."Uhhmm, I suppose... do you really???... well, OK"

Those of us who live in Emily's real world are in a bit of a shock. She has been perfecting the fine art of underage-operata-star search-piercing-drawn out-shaky singing since her second birthday. Indeed, she has been punished and her voice banned from different parts of the house at various stages of her life. While excelling in the art of Volume, it has not been observed by those with ears to hear that she has been gifted by what is generally termed 'pitch' or 'tempo'.

There are two options here: Emily is either growing into a talent with the outside help of her teacher, or the non-school, home-school, school away from home... thing has a horrendous availability of talent to compete against. I will let you know in a few weeks.

It's an honest question....

from Louise, as we're walking towards the checkout lane at Target:

"Why don't we ever steal?"