The power of the internet compels you

Dear Internets,

I need help. I’m pretty sure what I’m trying to do is easy-peasy if you know how. I do not know how.

Here’s the sitch:

1) Our church has a good sound system, done in the last 5 years, connecting the microphone and speakers
2) I want to connect a device to that sound system to record the sermons
3) I suspect my 120 gig iPod would do the trick nicely
4) I don’t know how to hook the iPod up to the system

Am I right? If I have a cable/doohickey can I just plug my iPod into some sort of “line out”, press play at the beginning of the service, and then download audio off the iPod when I get home? Advice, please!

–Me

My village

On Tuesday, my husband and I conscripted my brother into childcare and went to donate blood at the annual memorial blood drive for Vicky Graham. Vicky died of cancer a year or two after we joined the church. The blood drive is an especially appropriate way of remembering her, because during her fight infusions of platelets were one of the things that helped her feel better and get stronger. Vicky’s dad Whitey was standing at the entrance to the drive when we pulled up. We chatted, he signed us in and gave us stickers and little squeezy-balls. He thanked us for remembering Vicky.

As I was drinking my post-donation beverage, Whitey waved goodbye and said that his lovely wife was there to pick him up and he’d see us later.

Thursday night, when I came downstairs from putting Thane to bed, I saw my husband standing stricken with a phone to his ear. Whitey died Thursday afternoon from a massive heart attack.

When I think of Whitey’s dying, I think of work. There are Christians — I am one — who tend towards an intellectual approach to their faith. I think theology and Biblical study. Whitey was a Christian whose faith was done with his hands. He spearheaded the church’s ministry with the Dwelling Place, serving a meal to the hungry. Several times a year he cooked a meal for the church — Easter Breakfast, Fall luncheon. He was behind “Soup”er Bowl Sunday, and the Blankets and Tools drive. He was the lone guy on Deacons. He served with me on the Hospitality Committee. In my church bag, I noticed an envelope from him, my name scrawled on it. It was one of many projects we were working on together. He was a man who did things in accordance with what he believed.

He was also a father, many times over. He and Jean had three children: Vickie, Alex and Andrew. He and Jean had over 200 children. They were, are, foster parents. One of the last things he told me about was Alex and Andrew making foster-child Daryll laugh — Daryll is about Thane’s age. Whitey and Jean offered short term and long term homes to children in dire circumstances. They prayed every year for the children who “aged out” of the system and were sent alone into the world. Those children were always welcomed back at the Graham household.

When death comes long and slow, you have time to prepare. Gradually the tasks that person undertook are put aside in illness. I’ve seen that before. When death is a sudden visitor, you realize just how much you relied on a person. Whitey was supposed to give the sermon this Sunday while our pastor was on vacation. In an unusual fit of preparedness, he had already finished writing it, and it was read to us. It was about his faith, how his journey with Christ had progressed, and about what it had meant to him to be in community with us. It was an affirmation about how much he loved us. How strangely profound to hear from a man who had had every intention of delivering it himself.

Tomorrow, I will play “Lord of the Dance” at Whitey’s funeral. In September, I will find someone to prepare the Fellowship Lunch that was always his domain. In March, I will buy yellow roses and play “Lord of the Dance” for Vickie and Whitey. His example will remind me to be not only a thinking Christian and a feeling Christian, but an acting Christian.

Sing to the Lord a new song

My husband and I started attending Burlington Presbyterian Church the Sunday after we got back from our honeymoon, back in 2000. We were members by that winter, and I think my husband got conscripted to session, er, nominated to the high honor of monthly meetings within a year. (I ended up serving on Deacons.) Since then, we’ve gone pretty much every Sunday that we weren’t travelling, with a very few sleeping-in exceptions. The only other church we ever go to is the church I grew up in, when we visit my parents.

I love my church. I love the people. I love the pastor. I’ve been to the baptism of most of the cute kids on the front steps during Word for Children. Coffee hour ranges between good and excellent on a consistent basis.

But this last weekend, my brother was preaching at the church he’s interning at: Fourth Presbyterian in Dorchester. So we upended our familiar Sunday routine and took 93 south through the city to watch him.

What an interesting experience. I hadn’t realized how used I was to the way we do things. For example, the order of worship was different. They do all their announcements and prayers and concerns in the beginning. I actually really liked that — once the worship part started it was all worship. The music was great — they did interstices between parts of the service, and even played quietly during some of the prayers and readings. They did a fantastic job of integrating their children into their service. And the preacher was great too. (Heh.)

I also really liked the feeling of connectedness. One of the big reasons to be Presbyterian, instead of something else, is that we are tied through a connection and community to each other. Fourth and Burlington belong to the same Presbytery. I’d met several of the people at previous Presbytery meetings — in fact our September meeting will be held there. I felt a bit like an ambassador between two distant colonies of the same home country. It was all familiar but distinctly different, as well. And I felt just a touch of that church universal to which we aspire.

I love my church dearly. I have no desire to worship somewhere else week in and week out. But this makes me wonder if it might not be a blessing to me and to my service to BPC to periodically see how it’s done other places, and come back with new ideas and energy. I also think it is a joy to create connections between the communities. Matthew’s sermon was on the strength that we gain from working together, instead of alone. He’s right. That goes for churches as well as people.

My friends and family at BPC
My friends and family at BPC

Dreampt of in my theology

Parenting is good for one’s personal theology, I’m sure. It removes the patina of disuse and age from thoughts that were considered settled back when one was thinking big thoughts that heady freshman year of college. Here, for example, is an actual discussion between Grey and me on my commute this morning:

Grey: Mommy, make Spiderman real!
Mommy (thinking this is a good introduction to the finite abilities of parents): Grey, I don’t have the ability to make things real. I can’t make imaginary things real.
(Silence from the back seat while this is mulled over)
Grey: OK, let’s pray for Spiderman to be real.
Mommy: Uh… you lead
Grey: OK mommy. You say after me.

Dear God
I love you very much
Please make Spiderman real and alive
I mean RED Spiderman.
Thank you.
Amen

So if you find that New York City has some unexplained sightings and crimes that go punished by a mutant vigilante, well, our God is an awesome God.

Actually, this whole thing caught me up short a little. In our creeds we say that God is all-powerful and can do whatever God chooses. But I must admit, I consider the bringing to life of fictional superheros impossible. I almost told Grey that God can’t make Spiderman real. In history, God certainly hasn’t chosen to manifest his awesome abilities in the bringing to fruition the imaginings of humans (although he’s given us amazing abilities in that regard). Can God, if God so chose, make Spiderman real? If he chose to answer this deeply faithful prayer of my son’s, what would an affirmative answer look like?

Jesus tells us that if we have faith the size of a mustard-seed, we will be able to move mountains. Grey’s faith is unbounded right now. There is no cynicism or experience telling him that certain kinds of prayers are likely to go unanswered, or to be answered in such a way that the answer does not seem to be the hand of God. He has not learned what sort of things it is that we pray for, and what sort of things seem as though they are outside the purview of the almighty.

I don’t have a pat answer on this. The limits I put on my own prayers are revealing to the limits I put on my faith. I have pared down what it is I believe God can do, at least in my subconscious, and pray accordingly.


Dear Lord,

Please let Red Spiderman be real. Thank you.

Mommy

Tea and undies - a man of faith
Tea and undies - a man of faith

Saunter Against Hunger

As the economic crisis grows, I’m getting increasingly concerned about hunger — in America and across the world. I can only imagine how devastating it might be to swallow your pride (the only meal of the day) and ask for food help, only to be told there is none.

My church has always had a fantastic team participating in the Walk for Hunger this Sunday. We’ve never done it, but inspired by examples of other young families participating, I thought the Flynns would give it a shot. (The great sacrifice will be just how early it starts in the morning!) Given that one of the participants can’t even crawl, and one of them is three years old and highly distractable, it’s likely to be more of a saunter (we probably won’t make it all 20 — and by probably I mean certainly. I think 2 miles would be an accomplishment). And really, I’m sauntering AGAINST hunger, not for it.

So please support the Flynns Saunter Against Hunger by going to this site and making your pledge:
http://www.projectbread.org/goto/flynnfamily

Hello, I’d like to speak to my publicist

Get my publicist on the phone, stat!
Get my publicist on the phone, stat!

This weekend was, as you may have noticed, Easter. Holy Week is always one of my big weeks of the year. Last week I went to church 5 of 8 days: Palm Sunday, session on Tuesday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and then Easter Sunday. A fellow session member turned to me on Good Friday and said, “I think I might live here now.” I think she might be right. In other news, for the first time in my 8 years doing it, the light on the parking lot stayed on throughout Good Friday services.

My mom just gave me permanent dye
My mom just gave me permanent dye

But Easter is usually a big service for me because I’m usually playing trumpet. For once, I picked a good combination of relatively easy trumpet pieces, practiced them ahead of time and rehearsed them adequately. (See also: Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday) But between playing the prelude and postlude, singing in the choir for the anthem and the Benediction Response (Hallelujah Chorus), doing the session-leader bit for welcoming new members (YAY new members!) and playing with the hymns, it was not even remotely possible for me to take care of my children for the service. This usually falls to my patient husband.

Then my patient husband got conscripted to be head usher and wander around in a vain attempt to count all the people in the church. (We kept moving. This was not very fair of us.) Errr…. Happily one of my friends took custody of my kids for the whole service. She did a better job of keeping Thane quiet and happy than I do!

I posted some church pictures to Facebook — I’m hoping they’re viewable even if you’re not signed in.

In other news, I’m interviewing preschools for Grey for the fall. I really wish I felt more like I knew what I was doing instead of being a big fat imposterer. “Dear preschools. My son is really smart, but he needs to learn stuff. Please take him. kthxbye.” Happily, a side effect of parenting has been an increased tolerance for realizing I have no clue what I’m doing.

I found one preschool that I think will be ok. I want Grey to go part day to preschool and part day to daycare. That’s concern one — along with transportation. Concern two is which class to put him in — do we make him the oldest of the young kids or the youngest of the old kids? And if we do the youngest of the old kids, do we have him repeat Kindergarten twice? Once in private preschool and once in public? Do I attempt to enroll him in public schools early? (Darn October birthdays!) Basically, is there one or two years before he starts Kindergarten? I think two, which argues for the earlier preschool class.

Bah. Do other people fret as much as I do about this kind of decision? This is the kind of decision I make and remake for years. (I’m still wondering whether we should’ve bought the house, for example.)

All this is really just a preamble to what I KNOW y’all really want — pictures. Herein please find a slightly more balanced representation of my oldest and my youngest. You get to see my mother-in-law and friends, Easter pictures, an unseasonably early trip to the Middlesex Fells reservation, and actual pictures of my husband and I! Shocking! I also fixed the video links (I think — I didn’t, you know, test) for last month.

Enjoy!

What? It looked tasty!
What? It looked tasty!

http://tiltedworld.com/brenda/pictures/April2009

If only…

If there was one skill or attribute I most wish I had, it would be the ability to design as though I’m not a developer who never progressed past fourth grade stick figures. I always wanted to be able to draw. I even took one (1) art lesson when I was a girl. I’m absolutely terrible at it.

Happily, I’m not often called upon to draw in real life. To create websites that don’t look like escapees from 1996, on the other hand… urgh. Not only am I terrible at designing decent pages, I know it. I have visions for what kind of impression I want, ideas of sites I like. I’ve read books on design and navigation. I KNOW what I want to accomplish. But I’ll be darned if I can actually pull it off.

So now I’m looking at the church website. (http://burlingtonpres.org). It was one of my better designs. Seven years ago. AKA a friggin century in internet time. It needs to be redone. I know what I’d like to do with it. Now ask me if I think I can actually implement what I want? Ha!

My only consolation is that it is much, much better than many other church websites, which are often done by amateurs. I may be an amateur designer, but at least I do websites professionally.

Bah. I’m half tempted to do the whole thing through WordPress. So far the only downside I’m really seeing is that I just paid for another year’s webhosting. Also, I think I’d like a professional design. I wonder if I could talk Presbytery into funding it with the “fax” funds they mentioned last meeting. Hmmmmmm…..

Ok. Back to the actual work of the site!

Paragraph B

Monday night was a Presbytery meeting. For those not up on the inner workings of Presbyterian governance, it works like this. The smallest collection of Presbyterians is a congregation; the local church you find familiar. The governing institution within that church is called session, which is populated by members carrying the ordination of “Elder”. Our pastors are not actually members of our churches. They are instead members of the next biggest body, called Presbytery. I belong to Burlington Presbyterian Church, which belongs to Boston Presbytery. Presbytery is part of a larger regional body, called Synod. I think we’re in the Synod of New England? The Northeast? Then all the Synods come together in a body called General Assembly, which is a national body. There is no international body, but the various GAs usually have a certain communion with each other. It is also important to note that all Presbyterians in this body share two common books. The first is our creeds, which begin shortly where the Bible leaves off and has been added to as recently as th 60s. The second is our Book of Order, which is more or less the constitution of the church. All officers of the church vow to be guided by these two documents.

That’s a long introduction. Monday night we gathered together for a Presbytery meeting far more fraught than usual discussions. In 1996, an amendment was made to the Book of Order with the intention of preventing practicing homosexuals from being ordained in any capacity within the church. (It doesn’t actually SAY that, but that is widely understood to be the outcome.) Since then, every time GA assembles, an amendment has been proposed to Paragraph B. The latest version has come out of my church’s session and through the Boston Presbytery. It returns the language to a more Biblical focus (instead of a focus on the Confessions). (You can read more about it here) Needless to say, the original amendment was controversial and every amendment since then has also been controversial.

There is a lot to say on both sides of the issues. My main points would be:

1) We are all sinners. I personally violate the ten commandments once a week. I do a terrible job of remembering the Sabbath and keeping it holy and I have not been committed to changing that sin of mine. If ordination is only available to those who are not sinners, our church will quickly be depopulated, or only populated by hypocrites.
2) Jesus doesn’t talk much about sexual sin. He’s much more interested in hypocracy and money. We should go forth and do likewise.
3) None of the amendments would mean that any church had to accept or elect as an officer or minister any person they did not think was appropriate.
4) Who are we to say who the Holy Spirit can and cannot call?

Anyway, the amendment to Paragraph B above worked it’s way up to GA and now has come back down. It must be approved by the local Presbyteries in order to be adopted. Monday night was the night that our Presbytery took that vote.

For all that we sponsored this to GA, the passing was not a given. There was one commenter as we discussed this who said, “This amendment was born here. Let it die here.”

The meeting took nearly 5 hours. I’m sure that for some people there, it was agonizing. For me, it was inspiring. There is no doubt we disagreed. There is no doubt that people felt extraordinarily passionate on both sides. I know that some of my brethren in Christ feel as thought his amendment is corrupting. I see their point, although I disagree in both form and substance. What excited me, enthused me and filled me with joy was that we could come together. We debated this hot, passionate topic with kindness and love. There was prayer and song throughout. We sat mixed together in faithfulness. During the long vote counting process, as the clock neared midnight, we sang together as we waited.

I find it utterly thrilling, in this age of division and segregation on lines of opinion, that we could and did come together to lovingly disagree with each other. It feels like, as a culture, we have increasingly written off those who disagree with us as stupid, malicious, ignorant and vindictive. The Presbyterian church holds that people of good character can disagree with each other on issues of faith. I think that is an increasingly precious and beautiful point of view.

The future of the amendment to Paragraph B is uncertain. It narrowly did pass in Boston Presbytery. While I care about the amendment, I hope and pray that the church may continue to come together to argue with each other and disagree, and yet cheerfully be part of the same community.

Thankful Thursday

I’ve been super aware lately just how much there is to be thankful for in my life. Everytime I turn on the radio, it seems like something new is dire. It’s not just the economy either. From global warming to third world conflicts in Africa through to space junk, the world doesn’t seem like a very cheery place. I think that while there is a lot wrong, worrying and sorrowful these days that the world is still a fundamentally good place. Or, at least, as fundamentally good a place as it has ever been.

Every night when I put Grey to bed, I start a prayer. “Dear Lord” I say, “Grey is thankful for these things:” and then Grey will fill in the blanks. (This often becomes a list of people he knows. Or what he wants for his fourth birthday, which is, for the record, a DS and a Barbie.) I should be equally grateful.

Here is what I am grateful for:
*A husband who loves me
*Two fine, healthy, bonny boys
*The smiles Thane gives. They’re truly remarkable.
*Disposable diapers
*A house I really enjoy living in
*Neighbors who are becoming friends
*A church full of people all working towards doing God’s work
*The impending return of the Red Sox to my daily life
*Employment for both my husband and me
*My iPod, which dramatically improves my life with stories and music
*The really neat return address stamp I got for Christmas
*The astonishing and continuing ingenuity of humanity
*Getting to eavesdrop on the stories Grey tells himself
*The first day of Spring tomorrow
*My husband’s latest hobby: bread-making
*Entering the sweet spot where you still have energy, but also have experience
*Gazing out over the fields at night

What are you thankful for?

Hold on to what is good

During Lent, I am trying to not walk down the path of panic, negativity and despair. I know the path is there. I know what is going on in the world. But I see nothing to be gained by letting fear corrode my soul, by widening and making firm that dark road. Bad things will happen, or they won’t. Who by worrying can change what may or may not come?

Of course, there still needs to be planning. I think we’re all saving our extra nickels these days and carefully looking at our balance sheets. Do you lie in bed at night and think about how long you would be ok if you lost your job? I do. I make plans in my head for what I would do if it were a little bad, a lot bad, horrible. I stop at the “martial law and pillage” level because I don’t think there is a good plan against that one.

During the hard times, though, those who have enough and a little bit extra need to be sure that we throw our weight against the doors of last resort, to keep them closed against hunger, nakedness and bitter cold.

This morning I read an article talking about food banks. Actually, donations to food banks are up. But costs and needs are up higher. How horrible it would be to swallow pride (your only meal for the day) and go to a food bank, only to discover that there is nothing for you.

http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2009/03/16/turse/

There is a great sense of powerlessness and anxiety, rippling through our culture and our days. It is hard not to feel insignificant in the face of problems in the Trillions of dollars and the canker of uncertainty. We can’t fix the banking system. We don’t know how the world will look when this all shakes out. We don’t know if ours was an aberration of time, and things will never be that way again. Against that, however, we need to hold on to what we have and what we can do. We have love, friendship and fellowship. Spring is not aware that life is dismal, and will shortly be glorious as though it’s 2005 all over again. And while we can’t fix the banking system, many of us can give a donation of money, food or time to help our brethren eat.

Hold on to what is good. Encourage the faint-hearted. Help the weak. Be patient with them all. Rejoice without ceasing.