More Christmas

...and greenery!



No, the Capitol has not been attacked by gigantic poinsettias and blue sweatered giants.

It is the Christmas display of festive foliage at the National Botanic Gardens.



The display includes many replicas of historic Washington landmarks.

Each structure is painstakingly glued and constructed from bark, leaves and other natural materials.

It's kind of like the termites' equivalent of our gingerbread house.





In addition to the lush and beautiful poinsettias and other vegetation surrounding these monuments

there are...



(And, Monkey, hopefully you and the boy will appreciate this one)




...more non-people-sized trains!



MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!

Capitol Christmas!

Controversy is meant to stir up the listless. So, of course, I was moved yesterday to get out of my cozy bed and venture out into the cold December snow. I took my new camera on an adventure- what a time.

And what better subject than the huge and twinkling tree balanced before the United States Capitol building? Inside, elected men and women from each of the fifty states gather to create the laws of this free and prosperous land. Outside, flocks of shivering tourists converge in a photographic frenzy of flashes and clicks.



The tree is a symbol. So is the dome. Each of the ornaments means something different to the individual paste and glitter covered child who made them.

The fact that a law was passed recently by those congressmen and women specifically to make sure that the tree returns and remains a Christmas tree and does not slip down the pc slope as a "holiday" tree means something to me too.






A picture is meant to capture something that you don't want to lose. A moment. A memory. I wanted to memorialize this time in history.



The tree is cut and will eventually die. The ornaments may last a little longer (but not much). More concerning is the idea that perhaps a day will come when there are no longer people in that dome who are willing to stand up and defend the traditions of this nation.

The outcry of those seeking to eliminate the very roots and values that keep our country strong and upright is noisy-- and the din is growing.

For me, it will always be a Christmas tree. What others call it does not change its meaning to me. However, when we, the people, decide that it is ok for us to remove Christ, or allow Him to be removed as the life-giving root of this mighty nation, we must not be surprised when we too wither and eventually end up as kindling and mulch.

I like my pictures. I like this memory. That is a green and glorious CHRISTMAS tree standing strongly in our land.

I pray that we all continue to give thanks, honor and glory back to the One who has blessed us all go greatly and continue to be a shining beacon to those around us.

I'm Back!

After much delay and technical difficulty, I have finally returned! What a crazy time the past two months have been. Those turning leaves have fallen, along with the first of many snowflakes I expect to see in my first DC winter.

God has been faithful through it all and I am indeed thankful for my great friends who have been so graciously patient with me as well.

As further proof that I am indeed among the living, here's a picture in front of the National Christmas tree. Frankly, I think it looks a bit like a very festive Portugese man-o-war, but, then again, I also think I look a little bit like a very fluffy brown squirrel. Perhaps this is one of the side effects of standing next to a very big tree in the extreme cold. That, and the excessive use of the word "very".

Have a VERY Merry Christmas everybody!!!

Turning Leaves

I'm growing excited for all of the changes quickly approaching. I saw a few leaves fall yesterday. The purplish sky and cooling winds are moving. I can't wait for my first season of autumn in DC and the beauty of the changing colors. I've heard them described by others, but always along with the words "you just have to see it for yourself" when adjectives fail to convey the beauty they are trying to express.

Fall is traditionally associated with many things. Of the seasons, it is the farthest from spring. A transition from oppressive heat to frigid cold. A pleasant lull between the extremes.

I choose not to see it as a season of death. Yes, the leaves are dying and that's what gives them their beautiful hues. Sure, there's even a day dedicated to the dead in late October.

Instead, I choose to see autumn as gentle reminder of promises kept and seasons to come.

I've noticed many things changing around me lately. I know that what will follow will be harsh and cold. But, I know all of these things are necessary. We will have to lose our green in order to see the reds and oranges and yellows--even browns-- beneath. They've been there all along--hidden by more prosperous times.

Now, with the chilly winds on their way, I am anxious to see where the coming season will take me. I know it is part of a greater plan and that it is all for my good. It would be nice to know more, have a detailed description all laid out for me, but, I guess I'm just going to have to see it for myself.

Gonna Party Like it's ya...

I think it's always good to give exposure to up and coming artists.




Here's a picture of me with my niece. Surprisingly, though only six years old, she is almost as tall as I am in this picture. Clearly, the girl is going to be huge! ;) I have this special "birthday card" on my fridge. It just about covers the whole thing and brightens all of my kitchen and heart. I couldn't fit the entire picture on the scanner.

So, I'll show you my favorite part:

September 12th

It's been four years since September 11, 2001. It's hard to believe how quickly time has passed. But, it's also hard to comprehend how far away our pre 9/11 lives are from us now. I don't like getting nostalgic about things that happened less than five years ago. It makes me feel old, and it makes me feel sorry for the kids who will never know a day of "people-watching" in the airport that does not include a head-to-toe scan for explosives and evil intent.

I'm thankful for the freedoms I enjoy as an American. I am grateful to the people who have sacrificed for me. This picture was taken last year when both of my brothers were stationed in Iraq at the same time. They just happened to meet up for a couple of days. They share a bond that I will never have, even though we share the same parents. I can't imagine the things they've seen or comprehend the import of the decisions they were and are forced to make daily. But, I am thankful for willingness to make those tough decisions in our best interest.

Between the two of them, they've done five tours in Iraq. That's a lot of sand and heat and who knows what else. The oldest is back in the States now for a short break and then will be heading back again for (hopefully) his last time. I spoke with him on the phone last night and he told me about how he's been spending his "free" time from all that craziness.

He was in Fort Worth-- sorting clothes and food and other needed items for distribution to hurricane survivors.

I'm proud of my brothers. I'm proud of our men of service.

Beautiful Day!

Once again, I am reminded that God is faithful. As the stories of compassion and sacrifice begin to roll in, I'm more and more often finding myself welling up with the good kind of tears. The joyful ones. What an unexplainable and miraculous feeling it is to have such joy when circumstances are dark.

The fires of last week had me sooty and saddened. I knew what I was seeing was the very worst of our fallen natures. The clouds had come between us and the sun and I could't feel it-- even though I knew it was still there. What a short memory I have sometimes.

I cried out for goodness-- for salt and light and redemption-- an end to the blame. I wanted to be and do something useful. I knew I had to stop and listen in order to hear the whisper for all the shouting.

Then it happened.

These lights-- beautiful people who shine with the reflection of Christ's love-- warming and comforting, even invigorating, began to shine.

Reaching out, giving sacrificially, loving without expectation-- before long, the clouds had burned away completely. So glorious that when I close my eyes I can still see them, and I can't contain this ridiculous grin.

Thank you all for the brightness you've brought. You are beautiful!

Caution: Unpopular Opinion Ahead

Watching the events of the past few days unfold, photo after apocalyptic photo, has placed a sadness and a heaviness in my heart for not only the people of these cities, but for our nation as a whole.

Riots, looting, fires, lawlessness --chaos.

What has happened to us?

Did these things happen after the Tsunami and we just didn't see it? I know the people of London were extremely calm after the recent terrorist attacks. Granted, their homes were not destroyed in London, but hundreds of thousands of people lost everything in Asia and I recall few photos or stories similar to those I'm seeing now along the gulf coast.

"We have individuals who are getting raped, we have individuals who are getting beaten," one report states. "Tourists are walking in that direction and they are getting preyed upon."

So why have things suddenly come apart in New Orleans? I can't help but want to believe that it is because the people weren't held together very strongly to begin with.

I know this is not a popular thing to say at all. Perhaps I'm acting out of embarassment. I just don't want to believe that America is so fragile and ill prepared for something that scientists have said is coming for years. For goodness sakes, the place was below sea level!

The images I'm seeing are about as close to hell as any I've imagined could exist here on earth. It's as though many of these people have been eagerly awaiting this time. Mayhem. I've always wondered why you always see fires at looted shops. I don't know the answer to that, but I suspect it is symbolic of the explosive release of inner destruction. The fear of being caught is removed and the true nature of the "person" is revealed.

Unfortnately, at times the innocent are made to suffer at the hands of the wicked.
Be certain that God has not forgotten these people.

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." Matthew 9:36.

Harassed and helpless. Lines of people are waiting right now to get on buses that will take them to a place that is not their home, that will be filled with others who have lost everything. I hurt for them. The fear and sadness must feel like a second flood.

I pray they do not lose hope.

"For men are not cast off
by the Lord forever.

Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.

For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to the children of men."

-- Lamentations 3:31-33


I also pray that we will soon see 'the America I want to believe in' coming to the aid of the people affected by Hurricane Katrina. I know I must also do my part before I can expect anything from others. I am an American. I am thankful to be so.



Am I the only person who feels disappointed by our reaction to this tragedy?

Clark Gardens

Recently inspired by one of my friend's trave-blog of her home town (thanks Monkey), I thougth it would be fun to post a few pictures from Mineral Wells, Texas!






These were taken at Clark Gardens. This place is amazing. Acres and acres of exquisite gardens (Over 50!). No one would ever guess that such culture existed in tiny town Texas. It is definitely an oasis of beauty that surpasses any of the botanic gardens I've seen elsewhere.





I know I am Texas proud and, therefore, prone to exaggeration, but... seriously... check out these pictures taken with my cheap little disposable camera. (Having digital issues at the moment).



This is a replica of the local courthouse. There are miniature trains running through parts of the gardens. I was a little bummed they weren't people sized, but, oh well. ;) It's very Mr. Rogers, don't you think?







It's nice to have a place like this to add to my screen/sanity saver collection.

Especially one that takes me back home.

Machu Picchu

Here's another one of the pic's I used as a screensaver. My brother took this while on assignment with the embassy in Lima. He gets all the sweet gigs.

I've always been fascinated with Machu Picchu in Peru. The name means "manly peak", but most of the people that lived there were women, children and priests.
Someday, I hope to see this place for myself. For now, I guess I'll just have to keep staring at my computer all day, thinking about what's outside.

I just love this picture, how the green mountain floats above the mist/clouds. Every time I look at this scene I search for that one, solitary tree and.... ponder it.

The Incans thought their gods would reign forever and would keep them forever as well. They built this place as a temple. Spanish documents of the Indian Archives in Seville record that Incan leader Atahuallpato said to Fray Wicente Valverde, when asked to accept Christ-- "The Christ that you speak of died, the Sun and Moon never die, besides how do you know your god created the world?"

But for the tourists, and occasional goat, the temple stands empty today.

By the Tail

I had this picture as my screensaver for a while when I was practicing family law in Texas. I got a little chuckle out of the irony (lawyers are often referred to as sharks) and I got to see a picture of my sweet niece at the same time.

Isn't she cute!

Her daddy's a Special Forces/Ranger/Old Guard/PsyOp Bad-A... so--don't worry-- she can handle that shark--

... and make it look like an accident. ;)

Backwoods USA

One of the things I love most about living in the DC area is the proximity to the many museums, libraries, conferences, memorials and schools. The free flow of ideas is part of what makes this nation so wonderful and vibrant, yet solemn and reverent as well.

People here, for the most part, share a love for learning along with a general respect for the history of this great country.

This is why I was so shocked to see an article this morning outlining the egregious means some of the leaders of the very learning institutions I so admire, have gone to in order to stifle a certain area in this exchange of ideas.

The article states that some of the top "senior scientists at the Smithsonian Institution" have circulated emails throughout the Smithsonian Institution and to outside sources that are filled with false and defamatory claims against a fellow scientist in order to discredit him. The misinformation runs the gamut from claims that he had accepted bribes, was a sleeper cell spy, even that he wasn't even a scientist at all. The effect of all this malicious character assasination was the "running off" of this previously highly praised scholar.

Why? What had he done to be driven by this torch carrying mob from the halls of learning?

He dared to question something that in their minds was "thoroughly understood."

(Case closed. No more discussion. Any further inquiry into this area will be met with extreme retribution and ostracism. Everything that can be discovered has already been discovered. We might as well shut down the labs and universities and turn them all into museums for what we already know.)

This editor, who holds two PHD's in the questioned area, who draws high praise from his former professors, and was awarded a highly-prized and coveted research associate appointment at the Smithsonian Institution in 2000, has now been ostracized from the same community that had so warmly embraced him.

Apparently, he touched on a very raw nerve for the scientific community to go to such underhanded efforts to discredit him. An independent agency came to the conclusion that he was, in fact, smeared as retaliation.

What could cause such an unethical reaction from those who claim to constantly be searching for truth:

This scientist, Dr. Richard Sternberg, published an article written by a Cambridge University educated philosopher of science in a journal he had been asked by the Smithsonian to edit. Before allowing it to print, he sent the article to three separate scientists for peer review. The consensus among the peer reviewers was that the article should be printed in order to air the views within it and open up the topic for discussion.

The article in question, written by Stephen C. Meyer, argued that "evoluionary theory cannot account for the vast profusion of multicellular species and forms in what is known as the Cambrian "explosion", which occurred about 530 million years ago. (new paragraph) Scientists still puzzle at this great proliferation of life. But Meyer's paper went several long steps further, arguing that an intelligent agent -- God, according to many who espouse intelligent design-- was the best explanation for the rapid appearance of higher life forms." (taken from the Washington Post Article I read this morning.)

But what was the effect of the printing of this article on the Smithsonian leadership? One of the senior scientists in an email stated that Sternberg
"..has made us the laughing stock of the world, even if this kind of rubbish sells well in backwoods USA."

Well, I guess I am from backwoods USA. But I am also an American citizen and I live here in DC-- I frequent the Smithsonian's museums. Why is my opinion one that should be held up as "laughing stock" material? Sure, I'm not a scientist. But, when someone who has spent his entire career as an evolutionary biologist thinks the idea should still be open for discussion, why is it seen as an embarassment that needs to be placed into cement shoes and dumped into the Potomac?


The article closes with what I think is an amazing quote by Dr. Sternberg:

"I loathe careerism and the herd mentality. I really think that objective truth can be discovered and that popular opinion and consensus thinking does more to obscure than to reveal."

The Fattest Dog in the World

This is Baxter. The Fattest Dog in the World.

When my mom bought him, they told her he was a miniature beagle. Something tells me that miniature beagle is code for "his daddy was a hippopotamus".

I keep telling Mom that he's going to explode if she doesn't stop feeding him so much. She says it's a thyroid condition that's the problem (as she's hand feeding him buttered toast).

I say it's because you just can't say "no" to this:




And live!

Like Silver

“I will refine them like silver
and test them like gold.
They will call on my name
and I will answer them;
I will say, ‘They are my people,’
And they will say, ‘the Lord is our God.”
--Zec 13:9


"Dross" is the impurity found in raw metal. To remove the dross, the metal is heated and melted. This separates the impurities and they rise to the surface of the liquified metal. The dross is skimmed off, leaving behind pure, smooth metal.

As a child of God, this purification process happens to each of us in much the same way. We are heated (tested) until we turn loose of the things that are not of Him. Then, those things are taken away by the refiner and we are left stronger and purer.

The goal is to eventually be as pure silver—capable of reflecting the image of our Refiner to those around us.

….


It has been my experience that Nihilism is a both a by-product of and requirement for the study of English Literature in American universities. Granted, I had honed my radical skepticism in High School with my study of the works of Ayn Rand and Neitzsche.
I was a bleak, dark child—fascinated with futility. It was only natural I would eventually become an English major and fan of post-modernist art.
The immersion into extreme pessimism was complete and immediate. I rejected truth, loyalty, and purpose, and embraced existentialism and transcendental idealism. Author after author reinforced this view. I felt justified in my passion for destruction. It was a creative passion after all! “Everything is relative,” and “There are no absolutes,” became my mantras.
Hemmingway, Joyce, Vonnegut, the list is extensive-- and all seemed to echo this nothingness. My professors were all very helpful and dutifully pointed to any correlations I may have missed. I was a model student. Aced every class.
In fact, if I had continued in my pursuit of this world view, I just might have ended up with the ultimate prize awarded to many of the authors I had studied— a dark and meaningless existence capped with a bullet to the head.


I tell you all this to show you what Christ has done in my life. He’s given me hope and a future. He’s taken this dross and burned it away. I know there is Truth. I know there is Love. He has given me values. He has given me a purpose.

And part of that purpose is to reach out to those who are still living in the darkness I inhabited for so long.

Recently, God brought someone like this into my life. So much like me- yet eternity apart. There is a darkness and a sadness that surrounds them and it makes me want to run away; but I know God has put them in my path for a reason. I know all the arguments and all of the resistance I will face. I know it is not my job to argue people into the kingdom… but rather to love them. God has brought us both to this place for His purposes.

"... for, everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.
How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent?"-- Romans 10:13-14

At this point we are both faced with a decision:


Will I be bold and share the Truth, even if it means being ridiculed and rejected?

My answer will determine whether or not I am refined when tested, and therefore, more accurately reflect the image of my Savior to the world.


Will my friend believe and call upon the name of the Lord?

Their answer will determine whether they spend the rest of this life in darkness, and eternity separated from Christ.


No decision is still a decision.

Pray for us, if you would.

The Ticket

My co-worker Kyle and I went down to the "hill" to walk around and do some exploring. It was a busy summer day in mid June. Why I thought this would be a good idea on a day when I had on my most uncomfortable pointy shoes, I don't know. Strangely, I didn't stick out in the uncomfortable suited crowd.
As we were walking back to the metro station after lunch, I noticed a man near the entrance who did stick out. When I remember him now, I see him standing there, the color of ash. His gray hair and ragged beard matched perfectly his sooty gray clothes. He was reaching out desperately to people in the crowd. I could hear him say "I just need a little money for a ticket."
I was so excited. I was finally getting my chance to share. I reached into my purse and pulled out a huge handful of quarters and dimes and eagerly handed it to him. But, before I could say anything, I was carried by the rush of people getting onto the escalator. I was sad that I hadn't had a chance to do more, but God turned it into a victory anyway.
"Wow, that was nice." Kyle said, stunned. We started talking about how he had sort of "tuned-out" people like that. I shared my stories about how I used to be that way too but that I had decided to do things differently now. As we were talking and before we reached the bottom of the escalator, Kyle stopped mid-sentence and, looking off beyond me, said "Oh my gosh. He's buying a ticket!" He couldn't believe it. Kyle was so surprised that the man's story was actually true he could say nothing more than "hunh?" to himself a couple of times as he watched the man buy his ticket and board the train.
I could tell the whole experience had given him something to think about that he hadn't considered before. And I like to think that maybe, just maybe, the next time someone asks-- he'll give it a try too.

Compassion

I decided that I knew what I was supposed to do with the ridiculously large stash of coins I had amassed. I filled up a side pocket in my purse with change. I made sure I had easy access to it so as to have no excuses or fumbling when opportunities presented themselves. I had the exact words ready in my mind for the people God put in my path. I resolved to do my best to see these people who were asking for help in the same way that the Lord does-- His beloved and priceless treasures, worthy of love and respect.

Several days went by and-- nothing!

Not one person approached me or asked for a handout. What in the world! This never happens, right?

At this point I sat down and asked myself "What am I missing? Am I really ready?"

The more I thought about it and explored some of my attitudes, the more I realized that I wasn't. God's timing is rarely what we think it should be. I was rushing ahead and trying to do things in my own time and in my own way. I needed to look at clearing up some of the hardened and fearful areas of my heart first. Not fun.

--But necessary--

"You cannot run away from weakness; you must some time fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?" - Robert Louis Stevenson.


For most of my life, I was a cynical and skeptical person. I trusted no one and was actually an extremely mean and bitter individual. In my mind, I was smarter than the con men (or women) who were trying to fast talk me out of my money. Oh, and I was what my brothers used to affectionately call me-- a "miser"-- too. So, you can see where I might have accumulated a little plaque on the old ticker in the areas of me turning loose of MY money to people I didn't even know.

When I turned my life over to Christ, I became a new creation. Those who knew me before were astonished at the miraculous transformation. I suddenly knew how to trust and forgive and love and so many other wonderous things that I never knew before. I wasn't plagued by regret for all of the years I had spent in the darkness, I was thankful for the light, because I knew it was all going to be used one day to help others who were going through the same things.

So why the snag all of the sudden?

Because I needed to remember the way I used to look at people. I needed to feel and imagine how it must have felt for them to have someone like me walk by without even looking at them, or worse, telling them to "get lost". I needed to hurt for these people who were already lost (not necessarily unsaved, but have lost their way somehow) before I could truly look them in the eye and honestly tell them that God loves them and I did too.

I kept on working on a deeper compassion, kept the change ready, and continued to trust and wait on the Lord.

Thankfully, it only took a few more days before I was given my next step....

Change, Continued.

For the past year or so, I've been gathering my spare change. I'm not really sure why I started doing it. Perhaps it had something to do with an Oprah Winfrey episode on money management, or it was just a return to the hoarding days of my youth when I saved every cent for that chance trip to the store, where I would blow it all on candy and Ms. Pac Man.
Or, just maybe there was another reason.
Whenever I would look at the growing cache of coins, I would say to myself, "I'll just take it to one of those machines in the grocery store." You know the ones where you pour your nickels, dimes, quarters, buttons and lint in and it counts everything for you, giving you bills in return.
Something kept me from it. Partially, I'm sure it had to do with another holdover from my childhood-- Abject Humiliation. The thought of standing in the front of Harris Teeter while that crazy machine makes the most obnoxious racket as I stood by, pretending that I had neither poured the fifty pounds of change in there nor had I just been scrounging through my seat cushions an floorboards moments earlier looking for more-- was not exactly something I was eagerly anticipating.
Why would a grown person need this many quarters?
After college, it becomes extremely uncool to have an excess, even if they do have all the states on them.
I figure I had about $60.00 worth when I arrived here in DC.

One night while lying on the floor, contemplating the bigger things (my furniture is all in storage and the bed I had ordered still hadn't arrived), my thoughts turned to the nagging desire recently placed in my heart to be and do more for others. I felt a lot like one of those beans we all planted in the styrofoam cups as children. I could tell that something was about to break through and take root. It was very exciting, but I had no clue what form this new thing would take when fully grown. I just knew it was going to be something not from me but through me.
I knew I was going to be different. I knew I was going to grow.
Suddenly, it all came together. Clarity.
Of COURSE, the CHANGE!
I knew the new thing that was going to happen was going to come through the change I had been collecting.

I just didn't know exactly how.....

I had my suspicions, but, as it turns out, I was way off on what actually happened.

Change for the Better

I love the Metro. I've been here two months already and I still love it. I really love not having to drive in this crazy DC traffic.
There are so many interesting stories, wrapped in people packages, getting on and off those trains every day. I know it is impossible to put all of these people into neat categories, but, there are three groups of people I've noticed that have particularly grabbed my interest on the Metro.

The "Strivers": These are the ones who are rushing, pushing to get ahead, never looking left or right, but straight ahead and sometimes down (mostly on those in the next group). They need no one else. They are going to make it on their own and woe be to those who dare get in the way. People in this group are never seen without their headphones on, their PDA's whizzing, and something to read.

Looking Around: These are the people who appear to have resigned themselves to being the ones "passed by" in the wake of the strivers. They are looking for help, unsure of their own ability to survive in this world. Perhaps they've made some very bad choices. Possibly, they've never known any other way to be but dependent.



I guess I've been guilty of being a Metro zombie on a few occasions (ok, maybe more than a few). But, I have decided that I wanted to be someone in a third category:

Those who are Looking Up.

Soon after arriving in DC, I decided to begin praying for opportunities to show God's love to those I meet in the Metro (and everywhere else). I knew I needed to have more compassion for all people, and not just the loveable ones who agree with me.
Coming from such a sheltered and wonderful place like Fort Worth, I could go months at a time and never run into someone who didn't think, act, or speak exactly as I did. Don't ge me wrong, I love Fort Worth. The Lord had me there for a reason, preparing me and making sure I was well grounded and solid in my beliefs before He sent me to the very dark place where He wanted me to be salt and light for Him.
I know that each person is precious to the One who created us all. He knows the number of hairs on our heads (even the bald ones), He knit us in our mothers' wombs. We are each a beautiful treasure to Him and He loves us all the same.
It didn't take long for the Lord to show me His plan for how I could be used here in the city.
It has only been a month and a half since my first "mission" and I already have tons of stories to share on how God uses the foolish things of this world (me) for His purposes.

Stay tuned to this blog for more details on the simple things that have made a big difference in the D.C. Metro.



*Tourists fall into their own unique group. They are wide eyed and wonderful. They are looking at everything. I love the excitement and thirst for knowledge they have. I just might write something all about them someday too.
Actually, I've been here such a short time, I probably fall into this category-- but not often enough.*

Reply from the Express

My post from a few days ago, "Express Train to the Pit", made a few claims about the Express and what I felt was their poor judgment concerning an article in the July 28th edition.

Out of fairness to the Express I will post their response to my email:

"Thank you for taking time to write to us. As the editor, I take your concern very seriously and agree with you that the language used in that piece was entirely inappropriate. As a free publication with wide distribution, it is our practice to avoid offensive language unless it is in a quote that is essential to a news story (and even then, we err on the side of caution). The offensive usage in the Women of Faith piece never should have made it past our editors.I apologize and assure you we will do better in the future.Dan CaccavaroEditorExpress "

Ok. (me again) I am thankful the editor took the time to respond to my email. However, I still don't get the sense that he understands fully the situation. He says he's the editor and yet fails to take responsibility himself for the printing of the article. Who is accountable, if not the editor? I know he can't read every single thing that is published, but he should be the one to take the lumps instead of those enigmatic "editors" who must make up the "we" and "our" ghost committee he keeps referring to. Oh those cursed cursers! It's all their fault!
Besides, the reply seems to say that the term they used was offensive only because of its status as a "dirty word". Which makes me think they don't understand that my offense was more with their making light of my Savior, than with semantics. What will they do in order to "do better in the future" (could you be a little more vague, please), say "gosh darn" instead?

What do you think? Am I just looking for a fight, or do you agree that this response was a little "hedgy"?

Women of Faith

I've just returned from the MCI Center and the Women of Faith Conference. It was an amazing event. The place was filled to the rafters with fellow sisters in Christ and loads of uproarious laughter. And, since this event celebrates the depth of the woman's heart and her identitiy in Christ, yes, there were tears too.
For any of you who have never heard Nichole Nordeman or Natalie Grant sing.... I highly recommend you do. They are amazingly talented musicians and Nichole's lyrics are inspired genious. She makes ugly struggles beautiful. Natalie took "It is Well With My Soul" and pulled it through our guts till the incomprehensible peace described in that hymn was absorbed into our blood.
I didn't even know the conference was in D.C. this weekend until I read the Express article I mentioned in my last post. ( So, there is another good thing to come out of a bad article. What the enemy meant for evil, God used for good.) Not having reserved tickets, I wasn't even sure there would be a place for me when I showed up this morning.
I hopped the metro and headed to Chinatown, confident that the day was going to be an adventure, no matter the outcome.
I arrived at about 10:20. A little late, but, not too bad (for me on a Saturday). I went to the ticket office and asked if I could still purchase tickets. They said yes, I paid my money, and walked into the packed house of laughing women listening to Sheila Walsh talking about support hose and other foundation garments. I showed my ticket to the attendant and she pointed to the arena floor. My seat was four rows from the stage!
I found my place and settled in. The woman sitting next to me was kind and conversant. Made me feel comfortable immediately. (You know how it is when you walk in late and feel like you missed the first part of the joke) So, I was very thankful. Anyway, Sheila did a great job and I was laughing along with everyone else in no time.
There was a short break before Nichole Nordeman took the stage. My new neighbor returned with two boxed lunches and asked if I wanted one. She had a second ticket and had already paid for two. I was thrilled. What a blessing. I was not looking forward to breaking for lunch and fighting the crowds, only to pay too much money for something I was going to have to wolf down and not enjoy. This was perfect.
The whole experience reminded me of what it will be like when we finally get to meet the Lord, face-to-face. He will draw us close to His throne and give us a favored seat at His feet. He will feed us and take care of our every need. No matter how late we arrive, we are always welcome. It will be a feast and a celebration. There will be singing and praising. And, one thing that will make Heaven even better...
There will be men there too!

"Express" Train to the Pit

For those of you not familiar with the D.C. metro area, we have something here called the "Express". It's a tabloid style publication of The Washington Post (the largest daily newspaper in the nation's capital, with a circulation of roughly 786,000) . Every weekday, hawkers are paid to hand out this free paper at all the metrorail stations, college campuses, and other busy urban areas.
The Express claims to be real news. (see www.washingtonpost.com/express )
This morning (July 28, 2005) I decided to scan the Express on my way to work. I have a short metro trip, only a few minutes each way. I happened across a short article on the upcoming Women of Faith Conference happening this weekend at the MCI center. I thought it was great that they were promoting such an event. Even the title looked promising, "Good and Good for You". I thought, "Hey, maybe this town isn't that hostile after all."
I began to read the article and was stopped cold upon the reading of one sentence, the contents of which I can't even repeat in it's entirety due to the blasphemous nature of it. But, I will quote as much of it as I can as a reference for the rest of this post: Glenn Dixon writes: "...as the harried housewives wimper, 'How in the hell can I maintain my Christian walk with that ___(deleted expletive, initials gd)______ 'Veggitales' tape on 15 times a day?'".
I was astonished!
I couldn't believe that an editor would actually let something like that pass as acceptable. I couldn't believe that any writer, no matter his own religious beliefs, would think that it would be ok to use the Lord's name in such an outright disrespectful manner, especially in an article aimed at the very audience that cherishes His precious name above all.
The tone of the article was cynical, it was glib, it was bitter, in short-- it was Washington D.C.
My computer barely even had time to warm up before I had my letter to the editor typed and emailed.

At lunch, I decided to do a little checking on this Glenn Dixon character and discovered that the attitudes I had sensed in my reading were very much intended by the author.

More to come later on this interesting turn of events.....

Welcome to DC, here's your blog

It seems everyone here in D.C. has an opinion of how things should be run and how horribly afoul everything has gone because no one would listen to their ideas. Well, I decided to go ahead and set up my forum before the holiday rush and begin my rantings in earnest.

I'm sure it's only a matter of time before I become institutionalized and am no longer able to discern between good sense and useless complaining.

Who knows, perhaps, some wise guy will visit this blog and tell me exactly what I'm doing wrong and then run away with no offers of help to fix the problem.

By the looks of my cynicism, it would appear that I've already been here too long.

Anyone with pointers on how to avoid the bureaucratic rut I seem to have fallen into are welcome to chime in.