Gathered

The problem with doing something every week is that, no matter how enthusiastic or passionate you might be about it, routine inevitably sets in. The person who lives for the Friday after dinner dessert of ice cream with chocolate syrup and a cherry will soon be looking to add nuts to spice things up a bit. The same applies to Sunday morning church.

I think it is important to constantly be reminded why we are gathered in the first place, but even that can bring howls of protest from dissenting corners of the sanctuary. Apparently the preferred method is to forge ahead with the routine and let each person determine what it all means to them. What may appear as chaos is actually fellowshipping taking place in pews 3 and 4, spiritual meditation under the balcony, liturgical recitation in pew 10 left, utter confusion in random seats of pews 1,3,6,7, 9, and 10, and a few odd naps sprinkled in.

So this past Sunday, at the appointed time, I meandered into the middle of the fray, as opposed to up on the stage, and tried to calm the gathered. The fellowshippers ceased their fellowshipping and turned in their seats to stare. The traditionalists looked around for board members in wide-eyed nervousness. And the bored looked up with only a slight hope of being freed from bondage. All the while the worship team assembled on stage looked on with impatience. I stammered a few words about how wonderful it was to be together at that moment and then cajoled everyone to their feet for an opening prayer. Then the proceedings rushed off, back in their normal rhythm, much to everyone's relief, except mine.

I doubt anyone noticed my protest and that's okay. I'm not even sure if it was a protest. It was more a shout of, "What, in heaven's name, are we doing here?" Maybe I need to be more direct.

Canceled

Once again the kids are home from school today due to a weather cancellation. There have been a lot of those this year and the schools are frantically trying to figure out just how they are going to meet requirements as the state has mandated 180 school day per year, or something like that.

Though I don't go in for the cold I really don't mind the weather as long as we have electricity to keep the heat, water, and internet running. Yes, I am spoiled.

They say that weather is one of the things we are most willing to talk about with complete strangers. It's a safe topic, does not require us to reveal personal information, and usually provides for a lively conversation when the weather turns bad. The storms we have had this winter will have at least a 2 month shelf life and possible even extend out to 4 or 5 months in some cases.

One frequent topic with regard to weather is the local populations inability to drive in it. My wife was born and raised at a point 3 hours north of here and she carries a smug confidence that she and her home town neighbors have achieved a level of expertise in winter driving that we do not possess in this part of the country. We, in turn, do not believe that the populations of Atlanta and Dallas, for example, have the necessary skill set to deal with ice and snow.

Of course there are also the nostalgic ones who remember how they used to brave even worse weather with aplomb in decades past. Their badge of courage is their recollection of school buses with chains and never failing to reach the hallowed halls of their school room on time, or at least only a few hours late.

I don't buy it. I think their are idiot drivers just about everywhere. Twice in recent weeks I have been tailgated by individuals who were oblivious to the treachery beneath their wheels. And for those with memories from long ago I have but one question. How come you keep telling stories about your school bus getting stuck in a snow drift every other day? In short, idiots are everywhere and memories aren't quite as sharp as we like to think they are.

I don't see what all the uproar with the schools is about. The worst part about it is those parents who have to suddenly make alternate childcare plans. Other than that, does it really matter if the kids are in school a few days less this year? In thirty years are we going to look around at a dearth in rocket scientists and point to a few lost school days in 2011? I don't think so. Now if only I can find my shovel and dig myself out of this ditch. Just kidding.

Book

I am writing a book. It will be brilliant and have a profound impact on readers. That is if I make it heavy enough or it gets thrown with enough velocity. This is my first book and though I feel unqualified I figure it is now or never.

I get annoyed with a lot of the books I read because they tend to be filled mostly with theoretical garbage that has never had the opportunity to stretch and grow into life. They were written by somebody just out of school with visions of fame and fortune if they could only be published. And publish they did.

I lived in a developing country in Africa for several years and I remember an anthropologist from a prominent US University passing through. He was doing research and asked if I could take him to visit some village elders who could shed some light on their customs. As I sat and listened to the discussion my head began to spin at the stories that the elders were unloading into this academics notebook. I was shocked because I had never heard of such things even though I had lived there for some time. That's when I noticed some of the snickering coming from the darker recesses of the room. Glancing at the various faces in attendance I caught on that this unsuspecting discoverer was being fed a barrel of it. The book he probably wrote because of this encounter is probably misleading generations of wannabe anthropologists to this day. I have been leery of the "study for 6 months then publish" approach ever since.

Over the years I've had several people tell me that I should write a book. Well, make that two. One of those even went so far as to claim that they would actually read it. And they weren't even family members. That was several years ago but how can I ignore such encouragement.

So I am writing a book. I'm thinking I may even have a subject picked out in a year or two. A few years after that I'll probably have an outline. Decades later a highly polished, and heavy, work of brilliance will be available for all to enjoy. In the meantime I'm just going to tell everyone I'm writing a book.