What Amounts to a Hill of Beans

Was it you? Were you the one who grew tired of my complaints about the cold and kicked the weather machine as I had requested?

Well, thank you.

This weekend the weather took a turn for the very much better, with the temps rising 30 degrees almost overnight and the sun shining full blast. On Saturday, with Chloe at a playdate and Jonathan and Steve at the playground, I did something that I've imagined doing since we moved here. I bought a big cup of coffee, grabbed a good book, and sat on a sunshine-drenched park bench for an hour and a half. Part of the time I read, and the other part I people-watched and prayed. It was wonderfully renewing, and my love for this city and the people in it flooded over me yet again.

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I'm still learning how to cook with the ingredients that are available in the neighborhood grocery (really, I'm still learning to cook, period. Please pretend with me, and we'll blame it on lack of ingredients). This weekend I had a yen for White Chicken Chili, which is made with great northern beans and other goodness. In the past when I've made this recipe, I've used a big jar of beans--beans that are already nice and softened and in the perfect amount. Two local stores did not have the jars of beans, so I went out on a limb and bought dried beans. Problem was, I didn't know exactly what volume a pound of dried beans would be after soaking and cooking them. For future reference, it's A LOT. I had to keep adding chicken broth and additional ingredients, and now I have a pot of chili the size of our refrigerator waiting for someone to eat it. Want to come over for lunch?

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Last night Steve preached at Cedar Hill Christian Reformed Church in Wyckoff, New Jersey. It was an interesting adventure to get there, as the guy who offered to pick us up and take us to the church was a bit delayed by traffic, and we all walked into the sanctuary 30 seconds before the sermon was supposed to start.

Steve recovered quickly and delivered a touching and powerful sermon (I know I'm biased, but really, he was good).

He spoke about John 14.
"I am the way, the truth, and the life..."
...how it's so easy for people to see that as an exclusionary statement
...but in reality, it's the greatest invitation anyone has ever extended, with a guest list that includes every single person in this world...

"In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for YOU."
...a place made for each of us uniquely, because of our complete and total significance to God.
...Jesus invites us to come with him to this place, to know that we are loved and valued.

A quote from C.S. Lewis (The Problem of Pain):

Be sure that the ins and outs of your individuality are no mystery to Him [God]; and one day they will no longer be a mystery to you.
The mold in which a key is made would be a strange thing, if you had never seen a key: and the key itself a strange thing if you had never seen a lock.
Your soul has a curious shape because it is a hollow made to fit a particular swelling in the infinite contours of the Divine substance, or a key to unlock one of the doors in the house with many mansions.
For it is not humanity in the abstract that is to be saved, but you…your eyes shall behold Him [God] and not another’s. All that you are, sins apart, is destined, if you let God have his good way, to utter satisfaction….
Your place in heaven will seem to be made for you and you alone, because you were made for it—made for it stitch by stitch as a glove is made for a hand.

A Smile on a Saturday Morning

Lorraine posted this clip a few days ago, and I thought it was a perfect Saturday morning indulgence.

The guy can't dance, but he sure does love his life.




Love how he sometimes has to cut the dancing short because the animals get a little too interested.

Quote of the Week

"This show would be really good if it weren't for all the singing."
-said by Steve, with all sincerity, while watching American Idol

Somebody Give That Thing a Good Kick

The weather machine here seems too be stuck on the Extraordinarily Cold and Windy setting. Average temps for this time of year are the high 40's; we've been having wind chills that are below zero. Does anyone have the number for a good repairman?

I realized earlier this week that I am feeling actual hostility toward the weather, as if it were a real live adversary. I scowled and muttered at it as I rounded the corner and was socked by the wind. I talked about it behind its back, and I schemed ways to avoid running into it on the way to the grocery store.

People who learn we're from Michigan will often say something like, "Well, this weather must not bother you. You're used to winter!" Yes, we're used to winter...we're used to driving in snow and ice, we're used to snowplows and shovels, and we're used to never-ending gray skies. We're also used to pushing the remote start button for our cars, which are waiting in the attached garage. After a sufficient time, we take two steps into the toasty warm vehicle, drive to our location and park in the convenient parking lot. We then take 5 steps (maybe 10, if the lot is busy) to the toasty warm store and we're all good. I never even invested in a hat or scarf.

The difference here is that we are walking for blocks in the cold, we're waiting for the bus in the cold, we're taking the kids to the park in the cold. It's a bit ironic that we are more in tune with the weather now, in the city, than we ever were when we lived in the "country" (I use that term loosely).

Maybe it's just the chronic case of hat-head that is wearing on me.

K-i-s-s-i-n-g: Kindergarten Angst

A few days ago, I walked in the bathroom to check on the kids in the bathtub. Upon rounding the corner, I discovered Chloe had wrapped the shower curtain around herself and created a veritable cocoon of white plastic.

"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I need some time alone," said she. This is the size of our apartment, that one must wrap themselves in a shower curtain to find some personal space. But that is a whole 'nother blog.
"Why do you need some time alone?"
"Because something happened at school today that I need to think about," Chloe said.
"A bad thing?"
"Someone said something to me and I didn't like it."
"Who said something to you? What did they say?" I asked, doing my best to stay my Mama Bear instincts and calmly, collectedly investigate the situation.
"I don't want to tell you, I just want to think about it."
"Ok, honey, that's fine. When you're ready to talk about it, just let me know. We're on the same team, right?" This is what I said. What I thought was, "Tell me now. Tell me right now! Whose mother do I need to call?"

Over the course of the next hour, Chloe processed the situation and then dropped facts for me to pick up and put together, Nancy Drew style.
"It was about me and Max and Jimmy." (names changed to protect the innocent)
"Someone said the same thing to Claire and she didn't like it either."
"I don't think Max and Jimmy really cared about it. I think I was the only one who didn't like it."

And then, the breakthrough.
"Remember when Max and Jimmy both said they wanted to marry me?"

Yes indeed, I remembered. Chloe's teacher told me about it. Max and Jimmy had said, in front of the entire kindergarten class, that they both wanted to marry Chloe. They demanded that she decide which one of them was for her. And my precociously political girl told them that it was silly to decide now, that she would decide when they were all in high school, if they even still knew each other then. I thought it was a cute story. But cute stories are not without consequences in kindergartens.

So I asked Chloe, "Was what the person said to you--was it about that?"
"Um-hmm."
"Oh, Kiddo," I said, "as you get older, boys and girls will like each other and sometimes they'll both like each other at the same time and sometimes they won't...and it seems like kids will always tease other kids about it all. When I was little, we used to sing this song, Fred and Mary, sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

At this, Chloe's eyes grew wide, her relief evident that I knew of such things. "That's it! That's the song that they said to me. And I figured out what k-i-s-s-i-n-g spelled. Kissing!" Here she made a sour, boys-have-cooties face.

"I think almost everyone has had this song sung about them at some time or another, honey. If you don't like it, ask them to stop singing it, or just ignore them when they sing it, ok?"
"Ok," she said. "I think they were just being silly, anyway. It doesn't really matter."

Right on, kid. Self-differentiation is a good thing.

But growing up is hard, you know?

Happy Birthday, Michelles!

Swing over to Michelle's blog and Michelle's blog and wish them a happy birthday!

I've known Michelle since birth
...we hung out in the church nursery together
...she always seemed to have a very avant garde short haircut
...we learned how to navigate the intricacies of Commodore 64's together

And Michelle, I met in the 5th grade
...at one point she had kickin' Guess jeans (I can picture us in Calvinettes, you with your jeans)
...she was hopelessly in love with a fellow Sunday Schooler (do you know whom I'm talking about, Michelle? Of course you do).
...she would, and still will, sing the Indigo Girls with me

Happy Birthday to you, Ladies.

Onward and Upward

We're playing catch up this week as we traverse the recovery trail. Jonathan's eye is 90% better, Chloe's hair is what it is, and I am coughing only at inconvenient times (on packed subways, in the middle of telephone conversations, etc.) rather than all the time. The weather is warming and the air has that hopeful smell of spring thaw. Today I am thankful that God is a God of renewal, that these small recoveries hint at the greater redemption of this life and this world.

In church planting matters, our focus is shifting toward two things. The first is fundraising, the second is relationship building and core group gathering. Over the next few months, we hope to raise enough money and pledges to support the ministry for three years. Fundraising for three years rather than simply one will allow us to focus intently on building the ministry without the distractions of additional campaigns. The second part, the relationship building, is a delight. We have coffees and meals and great conversations and meet all-around interesting people. We share our vision with them, ask for their insight, and invite them to join us in one way or another. Relationships take time and effort, and it seems that is where much of our time and effort is spent right now. Not a bad place to be.

One Rotten Week

There is a blob of pink sparkly Dora the Explorer toothpaste in our bathroom sink. It's been there for three days, and every time I wash my hands or brush my teeth, the presence of the toothpaste irks me. It's gross and garish and doesn't have any right to be there.

But I haven't cleaned it up.

I also haven't swept up the small piece of garlic breadstick that lurks under the table (which is an invitation to every roach within 3 blocks). Nor have I prepared meals or showered as regularly as I should have. The flu that we've all been battling has ushered in a mighty lethargy, and it has settled into the apartment like a lingering house guest. Honestly, we're all just exhausted.

And no wonder. In the past five days, we've:

• been to the doctor 3 times


• been to the pharmacy 5 times


• been awake the majority of 4 nights


• spent $100 on cold remedies and prescriptions


• used up over 600 Kleenex


• blew our budget on delivered food
  
• watched way, way too much TV

Jonathan has this strange eye thing going on; he looks a bit like he was in the middle of a bar brawl. The doctor used an ink pen to outline the area so she could monitor the migration of the redness.

And Chloe, well, Chloe cut her hair. I'm convinced now that the act was brought on by temporary boredom-induced insanity. We tried to take her to the salon on Thursday so they could attempt to heal her hair, but something in the air made her cough incessantly. We left and tried again today. This is what we walked away with:

Side without Chloe-administered cut

Side with Chloe-administered cut

The stylist took off 8 inches of length from the back, hoping it will make it easier for the hacked off section of hair to catch up. It saddened me.

I'm looking forward to next week. I mean, I really can't wait. This week needs to hit the trail, and how.

P.S. A Jeopardy afterthought:
The answer: Chicken feet in the meat department and a man riding a unicycle.
The question: What are two things I saw on my trip to the grocery store today?

Why on earth...?

I just discovered a 15 inch long section of Chloe's hair in the wastebasket.

She cut it off and can't tell me why.

She now has bangs on the side of her head.

The rest of her hair remains, long enough that it reaches her lower back.

What are we going to do?

He's My Little Ostrich...

...with his head in the sand.


Jonathan is sick--we're all pretty darned sick--but he doesn't like to take his medicine and "hides" here, between the couch and the register. Today he fell asleep there for a few moments.

Steve's parents were in town for a long weekend. We went to the American Girl store and the Museum of Natural History and showed them around the neighborhood. It was nice to be able to share the city with them for a while.

But in my mind, I had this conversation with them:

Me: Hi, Mom and Dad. Are you fully recovered from the stomach flu that we gave to you over Christmas, the last time we saw you?
Them: Oh, yes. It was awful, but we're over it.
Me: Good. It's been nice having you here, seeing you again. And here's a little going away present--the respiratory flu! That's right, nose that runs like a faucet, fever, aches, cough, the works. They're all yours. Thanks for coming!

Chloe came down with the flu the day they got here. Jonathan and I were hit with it on Monday. Steve's mom was starting to feel miserable right before they left.

I would not blame Tom and Marilyn if they don masks and gloves and hose us down with Lysol the next time we see them. I might just do that myself.

Visitors Welcome.

What makes a church attractive to you? What characteristics of a faith community would catch your eye, pique your curiosity, encourage you to attend?

One of the things we've had to consider as we plan for this church community in Lower Manhattan is how we're going to let people know about it, how we're going to invite people to check it out... our (dare I say it?) marketing.

Marketing is a new church necessity, especially in a city the size of Manhattan. It needs to go beyond a "Visitors Welcome" phrase on a church sign (we won't even have a church sign, for pete's sake). Whatever form it takes, it needs to be honest, true, full of integrity. It needs to be warm and welcoming.

It needs to begin telling the message of Grace.


It's easy for the message to be confused, however.


Last week, a local church invested much money in the printing and distribution of a large, beautiful postcard that told of their church, their worship times, etc. A postcard was placed in the middle of every Metro, a free newspaper that many people grab on their way down the subway steps in the mornings. Daily readership is close to 500,000. Unfortunately, the postcards tended to fall out of the newspapers as people grabbed them, carpeting the sidewalk with litter. Ouch. The confused message: Come to our church, we add to the trash in the city. Come to our church, we don't care much for the environment. Come to our church, we're just like every other business that tries to shove fliers in your hands.


I don't want to be too hard on that particular church; I just want to show how easy it is for the message to be misunderstood.


Another church I've recently seen uses this line on its website: "Come check us out! We've got free Krispy Kremes and coffee after every service!" What does that imply about the values of the church? Would it encourage you to attend?

The Best Workout in the World

Who needs Yoga Booty Ballet or Turbo Jam?

Here's the best workout in the world.

Take a lightweight umbrella stroller and load it with an child who is, in all honesty, too big for it. Attach a 5 year old who doesn't like mornings and is complaining about her snow boots. Now run for a half mile on a slight incline while pushing the stroller through 2 inches of snowy slush. Add pelting sleet. About two blocks in, have the 5 year old begin to cry and pull back on the stroller, for a little extra resistance.

It works every every muscle in your body, including the patience muscle (which for me is located in my jaw somewhere).

Watch for the infomercial. I'm going to package this with the Eat Your Children's Leftover Mac and Cheese for Lunch diet and make a million.

Honest People, Google is a Gift, and Cannoli Condolences

Sunday afternoon I found myself in the middle of laundry with not a quarter in my possession. As I often do, I asked Chloe if I could buy some quarters from her piggy bank. She readily agreed; dollar bills are easier to count than quarters, anyway, she said. I reached into my purse to pull out my wallet. It wasn't there. I swished around the purse contents a bit...and my wallet wasn't there. I tipped my purse on end, pennies rolling to the far corners of the apartment. My wallet wasn't there!
I was horrified. I recalled reaching into my wallet to pay the taxi at church that morning, and I knew: Somehow, my wallet did not make it back into my purse and was currently sliding across the backseat of a yellow cab. It was gone.

I called the credit card company and the bank--no charges that day and new cards on the way. I called the taxi company and filed a half-hearted lost item report. I called the state and ordered a new license. I called myself a fool.

On Monday, I commiserated with Anne Marie. She listened and shared in the agony of my story, but then she did something really comforting. She bought me chocolate cannoli. Fresh from a bakery in Soho, filled to bursting with chocolate cream cheese and petite chocolate chips...
I sat at the table and tasted every bite, thinking that if there were a substitute for a lost wallet, chocolate cannoli may be it.

Five minutes after I finished the cannoli, Steve called. "Dana, a woman has your wallet. Her name is this, her number is that, and Get This: the pastor from Caledonia Christian Reformed Church called and gave me this information."

Now, Caledonia CRC is our home church in West Michigan, and it's a long, long way from any yellow taxi cabs.
How....?
Turns out, this lovely, honest woman found my wallet in her taxi on the way to church Sunday morning. She searched for our phone number, but we have no land line and are not listed. She Googled my name and found some minorly interesting but unhelpful information. She had the good sense to see Steve's name on our insurance card, Googled him, and found on Caledonia's site the information about his ordination this past fall. Worth a try, she thought, and gave them a ring. They, in turn, called Steve, and my wallet was back in my possession 2 hours later.

Thank you, God, for being a God of details.
Thank you, Wallet Woman, for being honest, persistent, and computer literate.
Thank you, Google and Caledonia CRC, for posting Steve's name.
And Thank you, Anne Marie, for a great cannoli.

Winter Jam

We checked out Central Park's Winter Jam this Saturday afternoon. Winter Jam's big draw is the winter sports: snowboarding, cross country skiing, snowshoeing. What might have posed a problem--the fact that the city has had only a trace of snow this winter--was simply an opportunity to haul out the ol' snow making machine from behind the shed. We arrived in the park to find two piles of snow surrounded by acres of grass (see the top pic). One pile the snowboarders used, the other pile was simply an invitation for snowball fights. Our friends Anne Marie and Ezra joined the fun and we throw snowballs (that term is generous, especially where Jonathan was concerned; he mostly threw snowflakes) until we were all soggy and cold and ready for a good cup of hot chocolate. The line for free Dunkin' Donuts hot chocolate and donut hole (that's right, singular) was unacceptable, so we chose a much cozier alternative, a visit to the Buttercup Bakeshop. I can appreciate a cupcake with as much frosting as cake.

More

Fashion Week
Fur Coats
Designer Bags, Designer Strollers, Designer Dogs
Apartment Envy
Gourmet Restaurants, Cafes, Bakeries
Broadway shows
Barney's and Bloomingdale's

I've encountered a struggle with contentment in this city.

It's not as if I covet any certain item...it's the More of the city that gets to me.
There are so many good things here; everything has the potential to be upgraded.

More choices than ever before, more expensive than ever before.
More unattainable.
More to say "No, thank you" to.

And the marketing machine is in full gear, on every building, bus, and billboard.

Yesterday, I found myself thinking that a fur coat wouldn't be half-bad.
It is not an exaggeration to say that particular desire had never, ever crossed my mind before yesterday.
But there are many fur coats wandering around this city, and they look so warm and soft and lovely that my own coat seems threadbare and boring.

I am an Israelite, grumbling in the wilderness, telling God that his daily provision of goodness just isn't good enough.

I know this, yet my eyes linger long on the upgrades.

Disproportionate

The weather has been oh, so cold here this past week. The kind of cold that makes your whole body tense, makes you angry at the wind, makes you wish you had found your long underwear when you set out to look for it three weeks ago. We've been staying in a little more because of the cold...I've had some tantalizing books waiting for me at the library for a week, but it's a 12 block walk and I just can't get the gumption to do it. Maybe tomorrow.

We're getting a bit of cabin fever, I think. The great big gift of this city is shrinking down to the confines of
our teeny, tiny apartment.

We need to get out more. I realized this today when I became really quite disproportionately giddy over the fact that our super fixed the dryer in the laundry room so that it no longer cooks our clothes (ah, the smell of unburnt fabric softener). I also had to resist the urge to call everyone I know to tell them that the maintenance guys put weather stripping in the windows, and the Daft Draft is no more. Also, I've reminded Steve 3 times that Lost begins again tonight (yippee!).

It's off to the library, post haste!
Tomorrow.

Since I'm Not Watching the Super Bowl

...and Michelle tagged me, I'll share with you my

Motherhood/Homemaker Quirk Confessions

• If you ask me, I'll tell you that I keep chocolate chips in the apartment for baking convenience. A bit closer to the truth would be that I keep them for emergency chocolate fixes, which usually occur on a daily basis and at regular intervals throughout the day.
• I will inhale lightweight fiction (Sophie Kinsella, et al.) while drying my hair, preparing Chloe's lunch for school, playing Uno with the kids (I can multi-task with the best of them). However, it takes me a good month to read through non-fiction books (which explains why Total Truth has been on my sidebar for so long. It's not from lack of blogging updates, I'll tell you that much).
• I play with the kids' silly putty while I watch TV at night.
• I will fill my sink with dirty dishes and hot, sudsy water, then I'll walk away. I hope that somehow the dishes will wash themselves while I am busy doing more important things, like blogging. They never do. But sometimes Steve comes home in the interim and is baffled by the abandoned sink, so he does them. Which is just as good.
• Grapes are $4.49/lb at my local grocery store. I know that's not a motherhood confession, but someone should be confessing to something related to that, because it is just wrong.

Consider my tag obligations complete...

Songs I've Loved To Death: The Early Years

I mentioned in my last post that at certain times in my life, I listen to the same song over and over again until I can't stand it anymore.

In other words, I love the song to death.

Right now, that song is "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" by Celtic Woman.

But last night I started thinking about all the songs that have perished under the weight of my affection, and I saw a perfect opportunity for a beautiful bulleted list, which may or may not be in chronological order.

Hence, Songs I've Loved to Death: The Early Years

• Elvira, by the Oak Ridge Boys. My dad bought a used truck with an 8 track. The Oak Ridge Boys came with the truck (bonus!) and I used to go sit in his truck in the garage and listen to Elvira. "Giddy up, um boppa mouw mouw..."
• Sing Your Praise to Lord, by Amy Grant. Age to Age was the first album that was truly mine, and the instrumental lead-in to this song was thrilling.
• Friends by none other than Michael W. Smith. The second album I owned. I dreamed of having friends who would sing this song to each other and vow to never, ever change. Wasn't really the point of the song, but that's how I heard it.
• I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany. "Children, behave! That's what they say when we're together..." Deliciously rebellious.
• Only in My Dreams by Debbie Gibson. I always thought Tiffany and Debbie should be best friends.
• Word Up by Cameo. My sister and I recorded this one off the radio on her Sidestep boombox. That's some serious dedication: Sitting by the radio until the song comes on and then hurry-up! Push record! Push record! Inevitably we missed the first few seconds of the song or had to endure a fade-in from the song previously playing.
• Parents Just Don't Understand by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. My friend Michelle and I could sing it word for word one summer when our families shared a rented cottage on the lakeshore.

That's it for the early years.

Share--what songs have you loved to death?

It's Just a Crush

I go through these phases where I am utterly dedicated to a treat of some sort or another. When given the choice, I pick that treat over and over until my crush fades due to over-exposure. I do the same thing with music, and someday I'll write a list of all the songs that I've listened to until I couldn't stand them anymore.

Today, I heart this:

On Broadway

My mom was in town this weekend, and we had the opportunity to see the Broadway production of Beauty and the Beast. It was marvelously fantastically fun-- my mom, Chloe and I experiencing the show together. And thanks to a kind and generous castmember, we were allowed to go backstage after the show and look around. (Kind and Generous Castmember, I'm not using your name to respect your privacy, but know that we are very, very appreciative). Chloe was in awe of the stage and the whole experience; when she was asked if she had any questions, all the thousands of inquiries she had peppered me with during the actual show flew from her brain. She could only ask how they managed to get a little boy's face into the teacup to play Chip, and where did his body go? (the answer: clever use of mirrors hid his body).

As thrilling as the experience was, here is the thing that sticks with me: If you were sitting in the 4th row of a huge Broadway production, would you feel compelled to break open your leftover Chicken McNuggets with sweet and sour sauce and scarf them down in the middle of the first act, swathing the whole area with the aroma of grease? The woman next to me was compelled to do just such a thing.

Core Values and Supplication

Steve and I have identified the core values we'd like to see in this church community. The descriptors are my words...we're still working out the official way to say these things.

Authentic Community— appreciating similarities and differences, recognizing each person's inherent worth in Christ

Experiencing Worship— vibrant and creative liturgy that combines the history of our faith with the relevance of today, preaching to the mind and heart

Living the Gospel—savoring the Gospel so thoroughly that it orients our thoughts, values, and actions in every aspect of our lives

Sharing the Gospel—with humility and hope

Serving the City—recognizing the greatness of NYC, using our gifts to make the city an even better place for everyone

Delicious.


Also, we've got some hefty meetings in this next while-- meetings that will increase or decrease the ease with which this project moves forward.

Please remember them in your prayers.

Strange But True

A few nights ago, Steve came to bed late after practicing his sermon. When he got there, he found me asleep and the comforter flipped over, bottom side up.

"Dana," he asked, "Why is the comforter flipped upside down?"

"Because you told me to," I mumbled, and fell back into unconsciousness (although it could be argued that I was never entirely out of unconsciousness in the first place).

I do have this vague recollection of a mighty struggle with the blankets, but no more than that.

Weird.
I am a very participatory sleeper.

Left to His Own Devices

"Look, Mama! I used the cheese for stickers!"

"Wow, honey. That's so artistic. A bit gross, but still artistic."

The modern art scene is strong here. Perhaps there's a future for him?

Say Cheese.

Seventy Times Seven

In our first year of marriage, when Steve was still in law school and I was working 2nd and 3rd shift as a nurse, we bought a brand new Saturn. We were proud of that car for about two weeks, and during those first couple of weeks, it seemed like every time I turned my head I saw a Saturn.

"Wow, where did all these Saturns come from? Did everyone buy a Saturn in the past two weeks?"

Of course not. I was just recognizing the Saturns that were already there. A top of mind awareness kind of thing.


These past weeks, the issue of forgiveness has been at the top of my mind.

It started when Chloe asked me, "Mom, what's 70 times 7?"

"140. Wait, I mean 490." (Never was a numbers person). "Where did you hear that?"

"In the Bible."

Thought so. And so I explained to Chloe that 70 times 7 was Jesus' way of saying that because we have been perfectly forgiven by God, we can and should forgive others--as often as it takes.

That night, Steve came back from a meeting where a church leader asked Tim Keller, the pastor of Redeemer, how to deal with team members who were not complying with whatever program requirements.
"I'll tell you the first thing you do," he said. "The first thing you do is forgive them."

That's not what I was expecting him to say. But it's right on.

After that, I ran across a quote from Lewis Smedes, a reformed theologian. "The first and often only person to be healed by forgiveness is the person who does the forgiveness."

And Philip Yancy, "The only thing harder than forgiveness is the alternative."

Then there are all the times that I've been able to practice forgiveness and be forgiven, as the weather turns colder and the apartment seems to shrink and we all step on each other (literally and figuratively) way too often.

It's easy for me to think that when I forgive, I am benevolent and kind, bestowing the gift of gracious pardon onto the person who is so much more sinful and wrong than I; that I forgive for their benefit.

I thank God that he forgives me for that.

Church, Made from Scratch

We've been crafting our formal church proposal this week.

It's more difficult and exhilarating than you would imagine.

Taking this broad vision for

a community of grace, bound by Christ,

living and loving the city together

and fitting it into 2 or 3 pages which people will see and then make a judgement of the worthiness of the endeavor.

It's easy to look at existing churches and find their strengths and weaknesses.

But if you were forming a church community, arranging the DNA from the very start, what would it look like?
What would your core values be?
What would the worship entail?
How would you encourage authentic community?
How would you properly contextualize your ideas so that they are powerful and relevant?

And most importantly, while doing this thinking and forming and writing, how would you keep perspective--
knowing that this is not about you and what you can do
but about God
and his abiding love for the people here
and his plan for his bride, the church.

The Theology of Breaking Up

Funny stuff, this.

My, But it's Cold.

It's 19 degrees with a windchill of 9 this morning. Usually it's Steve that takes Chloe to her bus stop, which is close to half a mile away. However, on Wednesdays he has an early morning Bible study, so Jonathan and I walk with her. Lucky us.

Here's a little bulleted list, Jeff Foxworthy Style.

You know it's cold in New York City when:

• The dog pee on the sidewalks freezes in action.

That's all I have for you.

My brain is still thawing, and I have to go walk another 3/4 of a mile in an hour. Now, where did I put that long underwear...

At a Loss for Words

I'm experiencing a bit of blogger's block today.
Hence, more photos that I took last week.



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Trinity Church

Steve and I were taking random pictures of the financial district and Tribeca yesterday, and I looked up and saw this:

As Delurk Week Draws to an End

I just discovered that this week is National Blogger Delurk Week...so for those of you who have been hanging out in my blog for a while but have yet to make your presence known, please take this opportunity to say Howdy. Leaving a comment doesn't hurt (unless you discover that you've posted a comment with a bunch of typos, then it's a bit painful). When I write, I write to an imaginary audience, but I'll bet you're much more interesting than they are.

TRIangle BElow CAnal

Because people continue to direct us toward Tribeca, in that a) it's a neighborhood where a new church community is needed and 2) it's an area that is rapidly growing, we've been doing some additional research there. The more we see and learn, the more we like it (the Cool Vibe is strong in Tribeca, and perhaps we subconsciously hope it will rub off on us? No, we've come to terms. We're a Cool Lost Cause).

We recently ordered an Area Profile; something that sums up all the demographics and projections for a geographic area and puts them in a tidy binder for our review. Some interesting things we've learned:

• The average household income in this area is $132,000/year, compared to the national average of $65,000.
• The percentage of people who have completed post graduate studies is 186% above the national average.
• The percentage of people aged 24-45 is 42% above the national average.
• 50% of the people say they are not at all involved with their faith (national average is 35%).

I find Tribeca to be beautiful because of the innovative ways that people have taken old, crumbling industrial buildings and reshaped them into a unique and vibrant neighborhood. It speaks of rebirth and redemption, a message of hope for things once abandoned.

We speak a similar language.

Addendum

Petty Things About the City that Bug Me, cont.

• I almost stepped on a rat that ran across the subway platform in front of me today.

To be Fair

Are you sick of me gushing about how much I love New York?

I do love it, you know.

But you and I both also know that no place in the world is nirvana. And today, in this gloomy weather, it seems quite apropos to share with you the things about this city that I don't like so much.

Just to be fair.

And to give me an excuse to make a bulleted list, which brightens my day every time.

Petty Things About the City that Bug Me

• Dog poop on the sidewalks
• The fact that I have to wait in 4 separate lines each time I go to the library (one to return kids books, one to check out kids books, one to return my books, and one to check out my books), and
• At the end of my long library lines, an inevitably crabby library employee growls at me
• The smell of the city on garbage days in the middle of summer
• The local grocery store that is out of Diet Coke 9 times out of 10
• The difficulty in getting from the Upper West Side to the Upper East Side (no subways run across Central Park)
• The prohibitive cost of Broadway tickets
• The absence of Target
• The mysterious puddle of murk that collects curbside at street corners
• The fact that I can't find a bulk bag of mediocre apples. I can only buy big, beautiful, museum-worthy apples that cost $1.50 a piece; of which, my kids eat about half and then throw away

Had enough?
I have.

That wasn't nearly as satisfying as my previous bulleted lists, btw.

Year in Review

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Supply and Demand

Two weeks ago they were vertical and sold for $75.

Virtual Tour

Recently a few people have asked me for more pictures of our apartment.
Of course, we'd love for you to come and see it with your own eyes, but just in case you don't make it out here...

Here goes (don't blink, or you'll miss it):

"God Dances Amidst the Ordinary"

That's a quote from Max Lucado, I think from The Applause of Heaven.

It's a good concept for me to consider, because I'm headed toward a bit of post-holiday letdown.

Our holiday was different than we expected, what with all the sickness. (The reverberations of that sickness are still being felt throughout West Michigan. I'll take responsibility for every case of the stomach flu in the past week; I'm sorry, all. I really am. If you "accidentally" swear at me whilst being sick, I'll understand.) Because of the sickness, I didn't get to spend nearly as much time as I had hoped with people that I love and miss. The time I did spend with my family and friends seems a bit hazy, due to the exhaustion.

So we're home now, and I'm glad to be back in the city. Glad to merge back into the energy here, glad to let the music of the city wash over me.

I'm not so glad to come back to the laundry that needs to be hauled to the basement. Or the groceries that need to be gotten. Or the bathroom that (seriously!) needs to be cleaned. The work project that needs to be completed. You know, the ordinary stuff.

My New Year's prayer will be that God shows me how to dance with him in the ordinary; to get past this crabby, mumbling trodding that I want to do. Because working through the ordinary is just as important as any grand, visionary work that we do here.

It's just not as much fun.

Malicious, Opportunistic, Clever Little Stowaway

Before hitting the road toward Michigan last Friday, the kids and I attended a great little birthday bash for one of Chloe's classmates. During the party, the birthday girl's mother leaned over and said, "Uh, oh. I'm not feeling very well. I don't know if I'm going to make it through the rest of the party." I expressed my sympathy and offered to help serve the grub.

I believe that was when It snuck aboard.

The 12 hour nighttime ride to Michigan was uneventful. We arrived on Saturday, making sure to hug and kiss all the people we love and miss. Saturday night was a Big Family Christmas Party, with extended family hugs and kisses and more food than I should have eaten in a week, much less in one night.

The stowaway made its presence known Saturday night, and I spent 3 hours huddled in a cold bathroom, regretting every over-indulgent bite I had taken that evening.

I spent most of Sunday (Christmas Eve) fighting It, while Steve and the kids headed over to his parents to open gifts. I joined them in the late afternoon, only to discover that It had crept over to courageous Chloe. Chloe opened her gifts with all bravery and perseverance, pausing between gifts to run to the bathroom or lie prone amidst the discarded wrapping paper.

It visited Jonathan on Christmas Day,
Steve on Friday (tho he refuses to admit it),
My nephew on Saturday.
And in a brilliant maneuver, hopped aboard my brother-in-law to travel the seas with him on his holiday cruise.

Clever, clever, little flu bug. You sure know how to get around, no matter how much Lysol we use.

Beyond the First Verse of Christmas

I know the first verses of our Christmas carols so well, right? When it comes time to sing the first verses, I belt them out with all the Christmas spirit I can muster, and it is something to rival the angels.

Then comes the second verse. And the third. And the fourth. Which are sung with sneaked peaks at the song book and slightly less bravado. If I had to sing from memory, I'd average 1 correct word in 3. I simply never paid as much attention to the verses after the first.

Those poor neglected verses.

This year, however, I considered them closely.
And I found that those beautiful verses are the ones who give the meaning to the story of Christmas...

What happens after the baby is born in a stable and laid in a manger?

How am I changed by the story?

How is the world changed by the story?

The latter verses tell.


We're leaving for the homeland tonight, so I'll be taking a blogging sabbatical.

Merry Christmas, my friends.

How silently, how silently

The wondrous gift is given!

So God imparts to human hearts

The blessings of His heaven.

No ear may his His coming,

But in this world of sin,

Where meek souls will receive him still,

The dear Christ enters in.

Of Course I'm Sure?

The kids and I were glad to meet up with a friend and her lovely children for an after school snack today. We decided to head to one of the local bagel shops on the Upper West Side. Like most, this shop is cozy, with an ambitious number of chairs and tables for its diminutive floor plan. It's a favorite place for retirees with newspapers and a hour or two to blow.

The kids had been in school for 7 hours and endured a 30 minute bus ride.
They are aged 5, 5, 3, and 1.
They like each other and seem to find one another hilarious to the extreme.
They were...not quiet.

It took us a few minutes to settle into the corner of the place, take off coats, tuck away scooters and strollers.
My friend went to the counter and placed her order while I stood guard. During this time, Jonathan was stricken which such laughter (brought on by his friend's snorting noises) that he fell off his chair. The one year old started to cry and Chloe asked, loudly and repeatedly, "Mom, can I have a cookie?"

My friend returned with her order, and I approached the counter. I told the nice man what I would like, and he said, "To stay or to go?"

"Oh, to stay, please," I said, with my best I'm-a-friendly-type-gal smile.

With a glance toward the moderate mayhem continuing to erupt in the corner, he snorted, "Are you sure?"

Why We're Here

From Nancy Pearcey's book, Total Truth:

...Worldview is not an abstract, academic concept. Instead, the
term describes our search for answers to those intensely personal questions everyone must wrestle with--the cry of the human heart for purpose, meaning, and a truth big enough to live by. No one can live without a sense of purpose or
direction, a sense that his or her life has significance as part of a cosmic story. We may limp along for a while, extracting small installments of meaning from short-term goals like earning a degree, landing a job, getting married, establishing a family. But at some point, these temporal things fail to fulfill the deep hunger for eternity in the human spirit. For we were made for God, and every part of our personality is oriented toward relationship with Him. Our hearts are restless, Augustine said, until we find our rest in Him.

Battery Park City

Today we took advantage of the beautiful weather and explored the Battery Park City and Tribeca neighborhoods as possibilities for a church community.

(See them? Down toward the bottom)

Battery Park City was hit hard on 9/11. More than two thirds of the residents fled to escape the dust and debris of the fallen towers (Got that info from Wikipedia, so take it for what it's worth). Soon after, the gov't began offering insane tax incentives to spur redevelopment, and since that time high rise developments have sprouted like very tall, very expensive weeds.




























Tribeca has seen some change in the last ten years as well. Many industrial buildings have been converted into residential lofts, and it's the trendy place to live. Tribeca has an subtle vibe of creativity and innovation running through it.


In the past couple of weeks, our eyes were continually drawn to these neighborhoods...people in these areas express a desire for a church that has family-like community mixed with strong, in-depth teaching and preaching.


Many of you are praying for us, and we are grateful for that. This week in your prayers, please ask that we are able to see clearly where God would have us do this work. It's coming down to the wire, and we need to make this decision.

Thank you...

Angela is 30 today.

(Give her a hard time.)

Wish her a Happy Birthday!

Good News

Russian

Mandarin

Korean

Aramaic

Italian

English

Lithuanian

Hawaiian

Spanish

These are the languages in which I heard the Christmas story last week.

Ah, me...it was the most beautiful thing I'd heard in many a month.

I couldn't understand the languages, but I understood the breadth and depth of the Love.

Daftly Drafty

One thing that attracted me to our apartment were the soaring windows that occupy an entire wall. Neglecting to consider that our apartment was located on the first floor of a 9 story building and surrounded by numerous other buildings, I actually thought those windows would bring in more light.

And what exactly do those windows bring in?
Light?

Not so much.

The windows usher in a brazen and malicious draft that chills the leather of the nearby sofa and encourages the curtains to dance and whisper.
A draft so antisocial it will chase away anyone ignorant or brave enough to sit within 10 feet of the windows.

A draft that relieves any potential for carbon monoxide poisoning.

To counter the draft, I've taken to wandering around the apartment in a fleece blanket, wrapped thrice around in a muumuu/sarong/sari style. The blanket is a fire and electrocution hazard, it carries so much static. When I'm cocooned in my blanket the kids fear to come near me, lest the static reach out an aggressive finger and deliver one wallup of a shock. One night I spent some amount of time watching it crackle in the dark, my own miniature fireworks show.

But it keeps out the draft.

The lesser of two evils.



Have yourself a muumuu little Christmas.

Dutch Bingo

Living in a strong Dutch community in West Michigan for the majority of my life, I became fairly adept at an activity called Dutch Bingo. Dutch Bingo is based on similar principles of the whole "Six Degrees of Separation" theory (where everyone in the world is linked to everyone else by no more than 6 people), or that Kevin Bacon movie game everyone played in college but I was never much good at.

I rocked Dutch Bingo, however.

An example:

Me: Hi, I'm Dana VanDutchwoman. Nice to meet you.
New Person: Yeah, nice to meet you. I'm Dutchie VanVanderMaasma.
Me: VanVanderMaasma...What high school did you go to?
New Person: Excellent High School. Graduated in '92.
Me: Right! Do you have an older brother named Hollander? My best friend dated him for a while.
New Person: Hollander is my cousin. How about you? Where did you grow up...

And so it went. By the end of the conversation, we could usually establish at least a couple points in common, and it was easy to build from there.

My Dutch Bingo talent is all but wasted here, really. This is the best I can do:

Me: Hi, my name is Dana NewNewYorker. Nice to meet you.
New Person: Hi, I'm Joe WestCoaster. Nice to meet you, too.
Me: So, um, do you breathe?
New Person: Yes...?
Me: Hey! Me too! Isn't that great, we've got that in common!

Slight exaggeration, perhaps. Still, the relationships that I've built here are based on no assumptions, which I've found to be an OK thing, because who's to say those assumptions would be true in the first place?

Sorry, No Time to Blog...

...too busy negotiating their contract with Carnegie Hall.

Small Things I've Learned Since the Move

• Over the door shoe organizers are useful for so much more than shoes.
• It is possible to OD on Starbucks coffee. In fact,
• I like Dunkin' Donuts coffee more than I do Starbucks. And it's cheaper.
• You can't overestimate the value of a comfortable, durable pair of shoes.
• Taking the bus doesn't necessarily save time; it only saves foot wear and tear. But alas,
• Jonathan gets bus sick quite easily.
• It's nigh impossible to catch a taxi at 92nd and Broadway at 9:00 am on a weekday.
• I really, really like a Vietnamese dish called Bun Xao.
• Any restaurant worth its weight will have the menu items numbered (to help overcome language barriers when ordering for takeout or delivery).
• Bun Xao is number 78 on the menu at Saigon Grill.
• I have a thing for bulleted lists on my blog.
• It is wise to walk around lone wet spots on the sidewalk. Chances are it's dog pee.
• I have accent envy. European accents in particular. Midwestern accents don't count.
• Sarah McLachlan's Wintersong is worth a listen. (Nothing to do with NYC, but still.)
• Our family membership to the Museum of Natural History was a great investment.
• It takes about one minute to walk one north/south block. If walking with Jonathan, triple or quadruple that.
• Keeping my feet shoulder width apart while riding the subway decreases the risk of falling into the person standing next to me.
• My laundry budget is woefully insufficient. Speaking of laundry,
• If I forget my laundry in the washer or dryer, I can expect to find my clothing (yes, unmentionables, too) scattered across the laundry room table for all to see.
• Our doorman has an extra key to our apartment, especially handy when I close the door and then realize I don't have my purse.
• I do love those bulleted lists.

Extrovert

I am an extrovert. And because I am an extrovert, I need to tell you about it.

I am also an optimist, a bit naive, and a tad idealistic. Bear with me.

I know these things not only from the multiple Myers Briggs personality tests that I've taken over the years (ENFP, in case you're wondering), but also from this fact: I am utterly energized by the people of this city.

There are times on the sidewalk when a wave of appreciation for the crowd streaming around me will stop me in my tracks.

Each person, loved by God.
Each person, uniquely created.

What is your joy? I wonder.
What is your pain?
What do you dream?
What stops you from dreaming?
What is your story?

At those times, I am thrilled that my story has crossed paths with the story of the people who shared the sidewalk with me, if only for a moment. I walk on, wondering whose story will intersect with mine in a more comprehensive way.

And I am simply happy that God has brought me to this place.

Christmas is a grand time to be in NYC

We made the pilgrimage through 70 degree temps and spitting rain to Macy's Santa's Toyland last week.





Toyland was a wonderland.





Deliciously gaudy,




Delightfully tacky,





Every Christmas vision a child could have, made tangible.

Happy elves guided us down glimmering paths, each turn revealing another scene of lights and toys and Christmas cheer. And at the end of the path, a particularly elfish elf took the kids by the hand and coaxed them toward Santa's special room (turning their attention away from another elf who was taking another group of children by the hand, coaxing them into the other Santa's special room). Chloe and Jonathan surprised me by marching up to Santa (who had a real beard, I'm convinced) and telling him their heart's Christmas desire. The fact that Santa couldn't understand what they were saying did not pose a problem. He assured them that all would be well on Christmas morning and topped it off by looking at Steve and me and promising that there would be something for us under the tree on Christmas as well.

Afterward, we mulled over the window displays, which were interactive and had full volume sound effects.






Airline tickets to NYC are fairly cheap between now and Christmas week...

O Tannenbaum...s

Rockefeller Center


The Apartment

Over 75 feet tall vs. 4 feet tall...
But ours was lit first.

At Least We Won't Have to Worry About Sunday School Curriculum

What a boon to discover this song on another blog earlier today! When the time comes for our church to have children's programming, we'll just put this video on loop and call it good.
I don't know why any Sunday schools use anything else.

"Honor thy father and mother,
The Bible makes it clear.
When you break the rules,
God help you fool,
you got Mr. T to fear!"

Then again, perhaps not.

C.S. Lewis on Love

I was doing some research on love for a newsletter at work, and I found these quotes from C.S. Lewis. While they are not right for my work newsletter, they are true and beautiful nonetheless.

So, I share them with you and hope you are blessed.

If it is maintained that anything so small as the Earth must, in any event, be too unimportant to merit the love of the Creator, we reply that no Christian ever supposed we did merit it. Christ did not die for men because they were intrinsically worth dying for, but because He is intrinsically love, and therefore loves infinitely.

Miracles

Though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.

Mere Christianity

God, who needs nothing, loves into existence wholly superfluous creatures in order that he may love and perfect them.

The Four Loves

I think God wants us to love Him more, not to love creatures (even animals) less. We love everything in one way too much (i.e. at the expense of our love for Him) but in another way we love everything too little. No person, animal, flower, or even pebble, has ever been loved too much--i.e. more than every one of God's works deserves.

Letters to an American Lady

Meal Planning 101

I flipped through some cookbooks this morning, looking for a dinner recipe that would use the ingredients I currently have in my lean kitchen (spaghetti noodles, 1 lb of frozen ground turkey, and some cheese slices that may or may not be real cheese).

It wasn't a fruitful search. I wasn't surprised.

Planning for meals is more difficult for me than the actual preparation. I'm not alone in this. I can remember certain afternoons when my mom would give up pondering the "What's for Dinner?' question and whip together a certain concoction called Rice and Raisins. Mmmm. We kids were in for a treat on Rice and Raisins night... a big dish of white rice and steamed raisins, topped with butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon. All carbs, no protein, no vitamins, no vegetables, no anything "good for you." We loved it. I haven't had Rice and Raisins in at least 15 years, and I can still recall the taste.

I have a friend who wasn't so fortunate when his mom didn't know what to make for dinner. He got a gourmet dish which his mother called Loose Meat. What is Loose Meat? It is browned ground beef. In a pile. On a plate. With onions mixed in on a good night.

My "I Give Up" meal is usually bacon and eggs. If we have bacon. Otherwise it's just eggs.

Steve doesn't complain; he eats with relish and thanks me.

Then 30 minutes later he eats his way through every snack food box and bag in the cupboard.

Location, Location, Location

Steve and I have been thinking and praying more than ever about where exactly in NYC to begin forming a church community.

Yesterday we explored the possibility of Brooklyn Heights, sometime home of Tennessee Williams and Truman Capote. Brooklyn Heights is one stop across the East River from the financial district (See the awesome view above. I accidentally cut off the Statue of Liberty, but if I hadn't done that, you'd see her on the left). Because of its convenient proximity to Wall Street, Brooklyn Heights is a popular place for white collar professionals. This neighborhood is quaint, full of brownstones and mature trees. It's more subdued, less glittery-seductive than Manhattan, but it's also less transient. There are more families there too, which would influence the tenor of the ministry.

Steve and I both look forward to the time when this decision will be made and we can begin getting to know the particular community in depth. It's like making a new friend, learning and sharing bit by bit, pleasantly surprised by commonalities and enriched by differences.

Of Things Thanksgiving

We had a plan, and the plan was as follows:

• Gather up snacks, hot chocolate, warm blankets, and deck of cards


• Locate and don long underwear, snow pants, mittens, hats, scarves


• Claim a section of sidewalk along Central Park West at approx. 6:30 am


• Make friends with fellow settlers to decrease the likelihood of sidewalk theft in the case of absence due to bathroom breaks


• Settle in the for the long haul


• Enjoy one of the best parades in the world

We forgot to add a crucial element: Find a way to manipulate the weather.

Rats.

Yesterday afternoon it became clear that the weather was not going to be in a similar state come parade time, and we abandoned the parade plans. As a substitute, we walked to the area around the Museum of Natural History and watched hundreds of people in Macy's jumpsuits inflate the gargantuan balloons.

This morning, with Steve in NJ on a preaching assignment, the kids and I still made hot chocolate and watched the parade--in our apartment. Jonathan lasted for a full 5 minutes, then pronounced that the parade was only for mamas and girls. Chloe and I watched the whole thing, loving every Broadway song and celebrity endorsement. And with every soggy float that rolled across the screen, I was incredibly thankful that we were warm and dry indoors. It is Thanksgiving, after all.

After the parade, Chloe and I discussed the best way to decorate the apartment for Christmas, considering that we left our boxes of decorations in Michigan. We searched for supplies and started to create.

The not-too-shabby-if-a-bit-resembling-a-classroom results:

Good Morning

A sleepy city stirs,
Awakens with a snort
Of garbage trucks and subway squeals.
Opens its storefront eyelids,
Wipes the night from its sidewalks.
Inhales the silence,
Pauses,
And merges into the current of the day.

Ask My Kids...

...and they'd probably tell you that Daddy Airplane is the best game ever invented.





Not so sure what Steve would say. Or rather, what Steve's back and legs would say.

Careening Career Considerations

This past week, Steve had a conversation with a woman who plays a character in the Beauty and the Beast broadway show. One of the mothers from Chloe's kindergarten class works in textiles, and I'm not sure what that entails except that she travels to Milan and other exotic locales on a regular basis. Chloe had a playdate today, and I learned that this little girl's mother has written a relatively successful book and is running a flourishing consulting business.

These are some inspiring people.

So much so that they've inspired me to write a list of potential jobs that have crossed my mind at least once since we've moved:

• Hotel Concierge. Mostly I just want to know enough about New York that I would be qualified to be a concierge. I wouldn't actually have to be the concierge.
• Broadway Usher. And if I could rotate among all shows, that'd be great.
• European Shoe Store Sales Associate. Comfortable footwear plus discounts equals good idea in these parts.
• Today Show...Person. I really don't care what the position is. Just let me see how it all works. And hang out with Matt, Meredith, and Anne.
• High Powered Corporate So and So. Just to see if I could hack it.
• Central Park Horse Carriage Driver. But not in the winter. And I'd have to get over thinking of that Seinfeld episode when Kramer fed his horse all that chili or hash or whatever it was with its odoriferous consequences.

Unimpressed

Steve: Chloe, Chloe, how was your trip to the art museum?
Chloe: Good.
Steve: What did you do there?
Chloe: Looked at things.
Steve: What kind of things?
Chloe: Art things. I'm eating my snack now.

But Does It Top a Visit to the Gypsum Mines?

Chloe's class is gallivanting off to the Metropolitan Museum of Art today. I think it's so great that she has the opportunity, that we are here in a city that can offer something so beautiful. However, I am unclear about how they will help a group of 25 kindergartners and first graders to resist the urge to run their hands up and down the alluring textures of VanGogh, et al.

I vaguely recall my own early elementary class trip to the (defunct) gypsum mines in West Michigan. And the water treatment plant. And the biggy: Gerald R Ford Museum.

I hope Chloe appreciates her trip more than I did mine. Mysteriously, seeing Betty Ford's inauguration dress just didn't do it for me.

Learning and Re-learning: Grace

If you checked my blog a few hours ago, you might have read a post where I, in detail, outlined some personal struggles. About 4 or 5 paragraphs told the stories of my failures, while 1 or 2 sentences spoke of God's grace in the midst of those failures.

What a backwards ratio.

So now, in this post, I will tell you that living in this city has brought some dark spots in my life to the surface, and I ask for forgiveness and am working to brighten them. That's enough to tell. What I really want to share with you is this: God's grace is sufficient for me and my dark spots.

Philip Yancey, in one of my favorite books of all time, What's So Amazing about Grace?, says this:

Grace makes it's appearance in so many forms that I have trouble defining it. I am ready, though to attempt something like a definition of grace in relation to God. Grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us more--no amount of spiritual calisthenics and renunciations, no amount of knowledge gained from seminaries and divinity schools, no amount of crusading on behalf of righteous causes (no amount of moving to New York City to start churches). And grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us less--no amount of racism or pride or pornography or adultery or even murder. Grace means that God already loves us as much as an infinite God can possibly love.

Ahh. Now that is a better ratio.

Getting in the Game

A few weeks ago, I attended a Redeemer seminar entitled "Christian Family Living in the the City: A Long-term View." Tim Keller shared this thought...I've heard it before, but every time I hear it, I think, "Well, doesn't that just make sense?"

Christians complain we are 'losing the culture', but relatively tiny social groups who live disproportionately in cities have far more influence on the culture than evangelical Christians who live disproportionately outside of cities. Jim Boice (in his book Two Cities Two Loves, p.167ff.) asserted that since 50% of the U.S. population lives in cities then only if at least 50% of evangelicals lived in the cities longterm--simply raised their families there and took jobs and served the whole city (unlike some urban 'enclaves') can we expect to see ourselves having any cultural impact at all. He then added that only if we lived disproportionately in cities (more than 50%) would we see great cultural impact.

48 Hours with My Family

Times Square Toys R Us ferris wheel subway subway subway bus Today Show Central Park walk in the sushine shuffle the leaves playground subway Upper West Side Upper East Side subway subway Staten Island Ferry Statue of Liberty walk Chloe's School Fifth Avenue subway Disney Store People People People subway Hard Rock Cafe Times Square wait in line for broadway tickets Vietnamese Food Riverside Park Soldiers and Sailors Monument subway walk Broadway shows shopping walk walk walk walk Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree Indian Food.

Rest.

I am The Church

Chloe participated in a cool blog project that was organized by a creative fellow named Joshua Longbrake.

Check it: Love in the Key of Longbrake

(And no, I'm not sure why the person on Chloe's picture is frowning. Perhaps because there is an arrow sticking out of his head.)

Those Pictures I was Talking About

I never would have known a neighborhood like this existed inside the city limits.

Home sick/Homesick

Home Sick

Chloe stayed home from school today. She's got a cough that's been tagging along with her to kindergarten for the last two weeks, and I thought it was getting better. Until last night, when she started a whole new chorus of coughs and cackles. We went to see the doctor this morning, and he told me her lungs are crystal clear and Cold Number One has been joined by its friend, Cold Number Two, and they should both be on their way out of town soon enough.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share one of the best Home Sick activities that I've ever done with the kids. This recipe creates a kind of squishy clay that keeps them occupied for at least an hour.

Gooey Gunk

Solution A:

1 cup water

1 cup Elmer's All Purpose Glue (don't use off brand or school glue)

7-10 drops food coloring

Solution B:

1 1/3 cups warm water

4 tsp. Borax laundry booster

Mix ingredients in Solution A together in a medium bowl. In a large bowl, mix Solution B until the Borax is completely dissolved. Slowly pour the Solution A into Solution B. Do not mix! Roll Solution A around in Solution B 4 or 5 times. Lift Solution A out and knead for 2-3 minutes. All set! Store in a ziplock bag. Keeps for a couple weeks.

And on to...

Homesick

Our family took the train out to Forest Hills, Queens yesterday so Steve could preach at a church there. It was a beautiful neighborhood, a beautiful fall day, a beautiful experience that caused me to miss our old Ottawa Hills 'hood. Here are some pics.

Well, Blogger is not being picture friendly, so I'll try again in a while. For now, you'll just have to take my word for it about the beauty.

Time Wounds All Heels

Steve's foot has been giving him grief lately, and he finally broke down and went to the podiatrist. Turns out his pain is caused by all the walking he's been doing. The doc said that he sees a dozen people each week that have similar injuries...all new to the city, all with tender tootsies not used to pounding the pavement.

Speaking of pounding the pavement, the NYC Marathon is tomorrow and it is a Big Deal. Roads closed, references to the run everywhere, media coverage madness. Last night on the news there was a segment called, "How to be Nice to Your Body after the Big Run," which might have been interesting if I ever ran for more than the bus. Point is, the producers assumed that enough viewers are running the race (or wish they were)that such a segment would be worthwhile.

In more walking-related news, Steve and I (and a sleeping Jonathan in his stroller) spent yesterday afternoon taking a walking tour of Hell's Kitchen. I am still surprised by the individual feel of each neighborhood in this city. HK, with its industrial atmosphere, reminded me of Chicago. There would be some advantages to planting a church there--because the neighborhood is still being "revitalized," space would be more affordable. A drawback (and a large drawback, at that) is that public transportation doesn't reach very far into HK. It would be difficult for anyone who lived outside of the neighborhood to get into it. Still, it is exciting to walk through a place and imagine what impact a church could have there.

Tomorrow, Steve is preaching at a church plant in Forest Hills (that's Forest Hills, Queens). He's looking forward to putting on his preaching pants again (I meant that figuratively, but he really does have a pair of pants that he usually wears when he preaches).

Jonathan as Johnny Cash

Walk the Lime