such small hands

Convention Blogging

So the Republican National Convention kicked off in New York yesterday. I didn’t watch a minute of it, and I probably won’t. Amid all of the nifnawing on both sides, I am having a hard time mustering up any enthusiasm for politics at the moment. Amid the accusations of who’s lying about whose military record, and which political party is best espousing Christian principles, I’m just hurt and confused.

I’ve read analyses of McCain’s and Giuliani’s speeches — some glowing, some pointing out where each man played fast and loose with the facts. Then I lighted on Steven Waldman’s blog from the RNC — he’s the editor-in-chief of Beliefnet. Waldman gives the speeches some pixels, sure, but he’s the first to have mentioned Max Lucado’s benediction for Monday’s session. It’s all good, but in part, Lucado prayed:

Remind us, oh Lord, that you do not exist to bless America. We exist to bless you. Remind us of your unquenchable, unconditional love. Affirm us when we seek your will, forgive and correct us, when we don't. Speak to us about the brevity of this life and the beauty of the next. And, most of all, prepare our souls for the moment we meet You face to face. We lay this election before you. And, in the end, Thy will be done.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

From Death to Life

Two things brought me to tears at the computer this morning.

The first was this moving account by Joshua Claybourn of his mother’s last day.

And the second is the lyric to this beautiful and new-to-me Communion hymn:

"These I Lay Down"
Before I take the body of my Lord,
before I share his life in bread and wine,
I recognise the sorry things within:
these I lay down.

The words of hope I often failed to give,
the prayers of kindness buried by my pride,
The signs of care I argued out of sight:
these I lay down.

The narrowness of vision and of mind,
the need for other folk to serve my will,
and every word and silence meant to hurt:
these I lay down.

Of those around in whom I meet my Lord,
I ask their pardon and I grant them mine
that every contradiction of Christ’s peace
might be laid down

Lord Jesus Christ, companion at this feast,
I empty now my heart and stretch my hands
and ask to meet you here in bread and wine
which you lay down.

I always loved how in the Catholic Mass, just before Communion is served, the people echo the words of the believing centurion: “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you. But only say the word and I shall be healed.” We come to the Table, to the place of healing, and receive the grace that we hunger for.

Sick

I apologize again for the sparse posting. I've been fighting with a persistent bronchitis for a couple of weeks. Finally went to the doctor Monday for some antibiotics and hoping they begin to work their magic. Meanwhile, while I rest and recuperate, please patronize the fine blogging establishments listed on the left for all of your blogging needs.

O God of All Comfort

Please join me in prayer for Joshua Claybourn, whose mother passed away yesterday. Ask God's comfort for him, his father, brother and sister as they live with this terrible loss. Josh was my first contact and friend in the blogosphere, and even though I have never met him in person, I love him as a brother in Christ and a son (his mom was only 2 years older than me). Remember Josh's family as you worship today.

Update: Here is a link to the obituary in the Evansville, Indiana, paper.

Rest in Peace, Julia

One of my personal heroes, Julia Child, has died at age 91. Sweet, good-humored and full of life, Julia Child helped take the fear and mystery out of French cuisine. She brought fine dining to the masses first through her cookbooks ("Mastering the Art of French Cooking") and then through her long-running cooking show on PBS. She showed us what gracious dining was all about, long before Martha Stewart was a twinkle in the media's eye. I especially admire her philosophy that we should not be afraid of our food. With all of our diets and losing battles against obesity, we end up making food the enemy. I quoted her in an earlier post, but I think her words bear repeating, now that she is gone:

... I for one would much rather swoon over a few thin slices of prime beefsteak, or one small serving of chocolate mousse, or a sliver of foie gras than indulge to the full on such nonentities as fat-free gelatin puddings.

And so tonight, as it has become my habit, I will enjoy for dessert a single wedge of fine German dark chocolate in Julia's memory.

Blogroll Freshening

I've been meaning to do this for a while now. Some of my favorite blogs have gone on a formal hiatus (Ben Domenech of The Ben File) or haven't been posting for some time now (Stranger in a Strange Land, Pray Naked Experience).

Discoshaman of Le Sabot Post-moderne will be back next month sometime, but meanwhile his wife, TulipGirl, has been posting regularly all summer. So I'll send a little traffic her way, and put The Postmodern Clog back in place when Discoshaman returns.

Since Ben was instrumental in getting RedState.org off the ground, I added that site in his place. It's a community blog for all things political and conservative, elections state and national.

I have been enjoying La Shawn Barber for a while now -- it's about time I added her. She's a conservative black Christian, so you can imagine she has a unique perspective on politics and culture.

And I'm finally adding Joe Carter of The Evangelical Outpost -- I find his mix of philosophy and apologetics a challenge and a joy.

Neat Prayer

Teach us, Good Lord,
To Serve Thee as Thou deservest;
To give and not to count the cost;
To fight and not to heed the wounds;
To labor and not to ask for any reward,
save that of knowing that we do Thy will.
Through Jesus Christ Our Lord, Amen.

- Prayer of Saint Ignatius Loyola

Street Protests

My husband and I have a habit of going out for lunch on Saturday. Our usual spot downtown has sidewalk tables that are perfect for watching people and soaking up some sun. This Saturday was just such a day.

Part of the passing pageantry this Saturday was a group of 20 or so people carrying signs and chanting slogans for clean air (“What do we want? Clean air! When do we want it? Now!”) This little display was amusing, to say the least. I mean, who’s opposed to clean air, really. At this point the questions come down to how much we are willing to pay to remove the last 5% or so of pollutants from the air. And on a luminous Saturday afternoon in the trendy and prosperous downtown of a middle-class Detroit suburb, you’re not going to get much argument out of people on that issue. It doesn’t take a lot of courage to stand up for your principles in a situation like that.

Here’s what I’d like to see: How about these same protesters show up for the Woodward Dream Cruise on August 21? A day in which thousands of people drive their classic cars down one of the city’s main arteries — very slowly — just for the joy of showing them off. It’s a massive celebration of America’s love affair with the nasty, hydrocarbon-spewing internal combustion engine. And while they’re at it, maybe the protesters could throw in a slogan or two about American dependence on foreign oil, since the Dream Cruise has got to be one of the single most useless expenditures of petroleum products on the planet, excepting maybe NASCAR races. Wonder if they’d get any friendly disagreement from the crowd?

C’mon guys, show us your dedication.

Lies-for-Hire

This is really sad — Cingular Wireless offers an “Escape-a-Date” service. The conclusion of the Times article says it all, “Or you could argue that it is simply another step forward in the institutionalization of lying, for those who lack the mental wherewithal to lie for themselves.”

In the CD Player

By Nichole Nordemann, this one brought tears to my eyes this morning on the way to work.

Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now

There were times when I was crying from the dark of Daniel’s den
And I have asked You once or twice if You would part the sea again
Tonight I do not need a fiery pillar in the sky
Just wanna know You’re gonna hold me if I start to cry.

Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now.

Oh great God, be close enough to feel You now.

There have been moments when I could not face Goliath on my own.
And how could I forget we’ve marched around our share of Jerichos?
But I will not be setting out a fleece for You tonight.
Just wanna know that everything will be all right.

Oh great God, be close enough to feel You now.

All praise and all the honor be
To the God of ancient mystey.
Whose every sign and wonder
Turned the pages of our history
But tonight my heart is heavy and I cannot keep from whispering this prayer:
“Are You there?”

And I know you could leave writing on the wall that’s just for me,
Or bring wisdom while I’m sleeping like in Solomon’s sweet dreams
I don’t need the strength of Samson, or a chariot in the air
Just wanna know that You still know how many hairs are on my head.

Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now.

I am simply awed by the fact that the Ancient of Days knows and cares when my heart is heavy and I am troubled.