TGIM

I do love weekends. I love family time. I love eating popcorn and watching the Waltons together. I love accomplishing things around the house. I love going to church.  And I love quiet Sunday afternoons when everyone is "napping."

But, still, I can probably count on one hand the number of Fridays when I could honestly say "TGIF!" I love the library. I love my study carrel. I love my dissertation topic, and I love having concentrated time to work on it. So when Friday afternoon rolls around, I'm usually sad that another week is gone and I have to wait until Monday to get back at it.

My research is progressing slowly-but-steadily. I've made some cool discoveries, but I'm still not sure how to wrestle 8 word studies into something anyone will want to read. As usual I wish I could say everything at once, so my readers will be able to see all the compelling evidence I've seen and be as convinced as I am about my thesis. Since that's impossible I'll have to choose just one winding path through the mass of data. Do engineers feel this way when they are deciding where to pave a road through a state park? It's a daunting task, but the more I walk the trails, the more I can imagine what I want to show people, and when.

So Thanks, God, for Monday. Thanks for a whole week to hike deeper into the forest, deliberate longer, retrace my steps, and begin to write.

goodbye, preschool!

In honor of Easton's last week of preschool, my Mom came up with a new tagline.

It used to read

reflections from Seminary Avenue (on anything from preschool to PhD)

Before that it was

reflections from Seminary Avenue (on anything from diapers to dissertation)

Now you can see it says

reflections from Seminary Avenue (on anything from ABC's to ABD)

No more diapers.

No more thumb-sucking.

No more bibs.

No more sippy cups.

No more training wheels.

No more stroller.

No more preschool.

Our little man is really growing up!

ABC's are a big part of Easton's world right now. When he first started learning to read he would climb down from his bunk bed in the morning, book in hand, eyes barely open, and ask if he could read to us. The book traveled with him all day long. He was obsessed.

Now he's back to drawing and playing and listening to music -- but he still loves to read. He's eager to learn about the world around him, and he's full of questions.

"Mom, why is the 'g' silent in this word?"

"Mom, why does every kid come with a grown up?" (He later decided that kids need grown-ups to remind them to do their chores before dinner and to make sure they don't fight with their sisters. I'm glad we're good for something!)

"Mom, why did God make bugs?"

"Mom, are you almost done with your dissertation?" (He's not impatient, just wondering.)

Tonight at dinner he prayed, "Dear God, please help Emma's knee to feel better. Please help Ana to have fun at Gwyn's house. And please help Mom as she writes her dissertation."

There may be a big gap between learning ABC's and being ABD, but at our house the two go hand in hand.

uncharted territory

"You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.

Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.

A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!

Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?

How much can you lose? 

How much can you win?

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right . . .

or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?

Or go around back and sneak in from behind?

Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,

for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind."

From Dr. Seuss' Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Now that I'm ABD, I'm facing my next dissertation chapter head on. And it's all new territory.

I have a pile of pages to read two inches thick that I've photocopied from theological lexicons.
I have a to-do list at least 5 pages long.
I have a whole shelf of books quietly waiting to be read.
And I have nagging questions about the best way to frame my research.
But the clock keeps ticking, which means I can't stand around too long procrastinating.
I just need to make up my mind and get started.

The biggest challenges in life don't come with instruction manuals. But whether your uncharted territory relates to breastfeeding or sleep training, educating your kids, dealing with teenagers, applying to grad school, resolving conflict, writing a dissertation, embarking on a new career, beginning a dating relationship, settling in to a new culture, navigating doctrinal questions, or responding to the needs of aging parents, the good news is you are not alone. We have a shepherd-king who will guide us each step of the way, even when the streets are "darked."

"Yahweh is my shepherd. I lack nothing.

He makes me lie down in green pastures, 

he leads me beside quiet waters, 

he refreshes my soul.

He guides me along the paths of the righteous

for the sake of his name.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley,

I will not fear evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me."

Psalm 23:1–4*

*my translation, adapted from the NIV 2011

singing my ABD's...

Photo Credit: Easton

This week marks a significant milestone in my academic career. I am now considered "ABD"! In the strange world of academia, with its insider vocabulary, that means I have fulfilled all the required coursework for my doctorate. All that remains is to finish comprehensive reading and write the rest of my dissertation, hence the acronym, "All But Dissertation."

Most significantly, I'm done taking classes for credit.

Forever.

What this doesn't mean is that I'm no longer a student. I will always be a student, even when I'm standing on the other side of the podium. If I've learned anything at Wheaton, it's that I have so much more to learn. Don't we all? Singing the alphabet is only the first of many stages in a lifetime of discovery.

But it's still cause for celebration. So for now I'm singin' my ABD's . . . next time won't you sing with me?

Our Celebration Dinner—A Family Affair!

Emma proudly displays Mom's progress chart.
Everybody has worked hard for this!

gifts at low tide (redivivus)

I've been thinking a lot lately about a very difficult season Danny and I went through almost 10 years ago. We were in the Philippines, desperate for resolution to our questions and longings. Thankfully, the lessons we learned in that spiritual desert prepared us to face similar seasons since then. Perhaps you, too, are at low tide. If so I hope this story (taken from my old blog) will encourage you. Our heavenly Father doesn't waste a thing.

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Photo from the Whatcom County Website

We had been driving along the coast for miles, in search of the perfect view. Washington State has a lot of beautiful coastline, but so far we had seen mostly mud littered with boats. The tide must have been at an all time low. Just when we had gone about as far as you can go without crossing the border into Canada, we stumbled upon a huge viewing deck overlooking a bay behind an exclusive resort. There were no fences or fees, so we stopped and climbed out to survey the scene. Little did we know that the treasures awaiting us would be below, not beyond the deck.

A floating dock skirted the deck, it's steep ramp nearly pitching us forward into the bay. We found the shadows below the viewing deck pungent and fishy. It took only a moment to figure out why. Rows of solid wood columns had been anchored into the ocean floor, supporting the deck above. Clinging to each log above the waterline were dozens and dozens of sea creatures - brown sea anemone, folded closed for lack of moisture; bright purple and pink starfish, each stretching a foot in diameter; mussels, clamped shut. Just under the surface hairy anemones floated and swayed in the current. Nearly transparent jellyfish pulsed past, freeform. I can't say that it was beautiful, but for someone who grew up in a landlocked state, this quick stop was proving to be quite an education! Because of the unusually low tide, we were getting a rare glimpse of the ocean's hidden life.

Photo Courtesy of This Website

Why do I bother retelling this odd experience? As we explored that day, I was reminded of my own inner searching these past months. Being at low tide emotionally and spiritually has not been fun. The odors of selfishness and impatience have often been dominant; "dying to self" does not smell (or feel!) nice. Parts of my personality that used to be vibrant have folded in upon themselves for lack of water. Gifts and skills once fully functional have clamped shut, ill-suited for life on land. But despite these 'losses', I've received blessings that rarely come at 'high tide'. Unexplored areas of my soul have been exposed. I am less self-confident, but freer. Rather than fearing what lies hidden within myself or others, I have found a new contentment, knowing that whatever is discovered there is not beyond His ability to transform into something beautiful.

I do not understand my own soul fully. I cannot pretend to have seen everything that lies beneath the surface. But I know He is there, healing and loving me. And that is making all the difference.

embracing the ordinary

If you're one of those radicals who intended to change the world . . . but ended up changing diapers instead, this post over at The Well is for you.





May God give each of us courage to do the hard work of loving when life is ordinary.

knowing less and less

In his biblical theology, Charles Scobie reflects on the "massive amounts of new material produced by archaeological investigation, as well as the proliferation of interpretive methodologies and the seemingly endless output of secondary literature" in biblical studies. He laments, "This results in ever increasing specialization, so that many no longer consider themselves even OT or NT scholars but concentrate on a narrow area of specialization; in other words, biblical scholars tend to know more and more about less and less" (The Ways of Our God: An Approach to Biblical Theology, p. 27, emphasis mine).

Ouch.

This is uncomfortably true. You can easily become a "Paul" scholar or a "Gospels" scholar in New Testament, or an expert on "Law" or "Wisdom" or "Psalms" in the Old Testament. It's very difficult to stay abreast of all the scholarship on the whole Bible. Impossible, actually. But the Church needs the whole Word of God, not just a piece of it. That's why Scobie wrote his massive, 1000-page book. And that's why I'm glad I have to read it. Because when you spend your days staring hour after hour at one little bit of Scripture, it's helpful to step back and refresh your sense of the big picture.

In a way, I do know more and more about less and less. The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don't know about other things. But that's not altogether bad. Realizing what we don't know is the first step to learning something new. And we have the rest of our lives to dig deeper.