Alaska

This weekend Bill and I will fly to Seattle to begin an Alaskan cruise. I love the anticipation of a vacation. I have fun visualizing our destination, planning the excursions, imagining the people we will meet. But this vacation is different for a couple of reasons.

First, it is difficult to plan a vacation that requires you to shop for sweaters, scarves, hats, and gloves when the current temperature is over 100 degrees.

Second, I’m mad at Alaska, not the Alaskan people, but the state of Alaska—every square mile of it—and I’ve been mad for fifty-one years. Yes, it’s a long time to be angry; especially if you don’t realize you are angry. But I’m here to tell you I’ve never forgiven Alaska for making Texas the second largest state.

I was ten when Alaska became a state; immediately, I knew something was wrong. How could Alaska replace Texas? Texas had dirt and rocks, hills and valleys, lakes and rivers. It had presence. After all, Texas had been an independent country. Six flags had flown over the land and we had a giant amusement park to prove it. Texas was home to the Alamo. Big Tex stood guard over the State Fair. Pump jacks dotted the landscape. Wealthy and powerful men surveyed their “kingdoms” from behind the wheel of their white Cadillac convertibles. Texas was the land of polished boots and Stetson hats.

Alaska was an interloper. It was Seward’s folly—a giant ice cube. What if it was all ice and snow? What if it had no dirt, no rocks, no substance? In a heat wave, Alaska might melt and once again we could sing the state song—

Texas, our Texas! All hail the mighty State! Texas, our Texas! So wonderful so great! Largest and grandest, Withstanding ev'ry test; O Empire wide and glorious, You stand supremely blest.


After all, that’s way it should be sung.

The Gospel of John

Tomorrow my Tuesday Bible study group will begin studying the Gospel of John. I can hardly wait. We don't meet in the summer and three months is too long without these friends. It will be enlightening to explore the Gospel of John with these women. My favorite gospel account? Why the one I'm reading right now, of course. I love that God gave us four remembrances of Jesus' life on earth. The differences in the gospel accounts keeps the good news fresh and exciting. If you want a fresh perspective on the gospels, I recommend Four Gospels, One Jesus: A Symbolic Reading by Richard Burridge.

New School Year Begins

The end of August and the start of classes is just around the corner. Convocation is Sunday and I'm looking forward to the start of classes on Wednesday. It will be great to see students in the halls, in the library, sharing lunch in the student commons, attending chapel. Students bring the mission of Austin Graduate School of Theology to life. They remind me that I play a part in promoting the knowledge, understanding, and practice of the Christian faith as the school equips Christians and churches for service in the kingdom of God. I can hardly wait to see what God does this year at Austin Grad. I pray I will be attentive to the opportunities he sets before me and that every student will see Jesus in me.

Grateful

For the past three weeks I have been in a cumbersome knee brace, hobbling around at half speed. Recently, in a effort to ease the strain on my "good" knee, I began using a cane. While the knee brace is relatively unobtrusive under slacks, the cane cannot be hidden. As a result, I have repeated the story of my clumsiness and the resulting list of ligament tears and bruises numerous times. I always end my recital with the statement that it could be much worse. Truly it could. In 1977, I missed a step and broke my right ankle in three places. After surgery I had nine weeks during which I could not put my right foot on the ground. That was nine weeks in a wheelchair or on crutches, pregnant and with a four year old in tow. That round of fun and games was followed by three weeks in a walking cast. So, it could be worse. Truly it could. I could be on crutches or in a wheelchair permanently. It could be much worse. Truly it could. It might not be me. It might be Bill, or Ryan or Brandon. Yes, it could be so much worse. Thank you Lord for this minor trial. May I count it pure joy.

Something to Ponder

Most of us recognize the difference between good and evil and choose the good. But how often do we recognize the difference between what is good and what is better or what is best? Which one do you consistently choose?

Mountains Aren't the Problem

It is a new year and a time to set new goals. Not being especially ambitious I have limited myself to one goal at a time. The current goal: get all the laundry done. After the holidays there are mountains of tablecloths, napkins, sheets and towels piled in the laundry room, Naturally this is in addition to the usual dirty clothes that accumulate over the course of a week. This is a simple but worthy goal. When all the laundry is done I plan to clean the laundry room closet and pass on the things we no longer use. My laundry efforts are paying off; the mountains are shrinking to manageable proportions. Sheets and towels for the ranch are clean and neatly folded, ready for transport back to Cisco. The last couple of tablecloths are in the washer and the final sheets are tumbling dry. The floor is finally clear and now I can see the basket. This is the laondry basket that always stands between me and a perfectly clean laundry room. This basket is never empty. It doesn't hold a mountain of laundry. Instead, it is full of hills--items that are too small to make a load, items that fade and must be washed separately. These clothes don't get washed very often. They spend most of their time in the basket and all of the laundry never gets done. Sometimes it is not the mountain but the hill that is our biggest obstacle.

Exaggerated Rumors

As Mark Twain once quipped, the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I was grateful to realize that it hasn't been quite a year since my last posting--almost but not quite. I have dear friends, among them Allan Stanglin, who post faithfully. In contrast, I intend faithfully. At least once or twice a month I intend to post my latest wandering thoughts but something always overrides my intention. Generally, something meaningless--such as my wandering thoughts. Oh well, it is a new year and a time for new intentions. Anyone taking wagers on how long it will be before my next posting?