Clouds v Sunshine

Thursday 22
Kings and kingdoms will all pass away
But there's something about that Name.

Friday 23
I had another physical therapy appointment in the morning. My back and neck have improved greatly and I am so thankful for the care of Dr. Choi and co. The healing process after a car accident is such an important thing, and they've really put me back on my feet.

I also had the opportunity to do some freelance work for a potential contract employer; the meeting took place in the afternoon. The meeting was a chess game, two people each sizing up the other, each assessing how the other might make their business more profitable. Unfortunately, some questions of ethics were raised in my mind. We'll see what happens, but I won't compromise my professional integrity for any reason.

Study in the evening was good again, back in 1 Timothy 4, and Hebrews 12 by way of conversational rabbit trails. The ever-genuine Rick DeVaul leading discussion. It's always a wonder to me how meek and strong he can be at the same time, complete with his twinkling eyes and salt & pepper beard. He reminds me of Laura Ingalls Wilder's childhood memoirs concerning her father. God wants this to be my credo and modus operandi for the time being. (Well, actually Christ is technically the credo. Anyway.)

Saturday 24
Got up a little earlier than I wanted, and put on my grey suit and that purple J.Crew tie I've been meaning to wear someday. I like to look sharp at a wedding; in retrospect I should have just chopped my beard off and gotten a haircut. But none of that is important. The wedding was important. For those of you who don't know my best-female-friend Christina (formerly) Yakel and my Bible-study buddy Jeremy Walker, this was the equivalent of Jim and Pam finally getting married. Since Jer is from FBC and Christina is from HBC, of course all the Fairhaven guys were there, and most of the Hillview friends and most of Martha and the Chores, so we were critiquing the wedding band the whole time, taking notes for our own debut at the DeVaul wedding in June. We are all anxious not to biff our first wedding. It goes without saying that Christina was beautiful in her golden tresses and pure-white gown, Jer more fun than ever stalking his long, tall tuxedo around the reception, and both of them full of charisma and sparkle. The succinct service and bubbly reception were truly celebratory, and all of us worked up a healthy glow, dancing and singing our exultation.

Sunday 25
Hillview's German intern Tobi preached at Grace on Sunday, and his natural earnestness complemented well the slim boyish carriage and warm coloration so common in young German scholarly types. He is truly a sincere seeker of Christ and I am grateful to have gained a friend in him, as I think he is exactly what he appears to be, and will continue to be of humble and solid repute, a man worth knowing and by whom to be sharpened. He preached on the importance of sharing Christ with people who need him, an echo of Friday night's study taught by Rick, and the tears in D.L. Moody's view of the world.

Martha and the Chores practice was a little lame-o in some respects, but it was refreshing to have Peter shoulder some of the responsibility for the practice. Still everyone kept coming to me instead of him with questions, though. All things considered, we have a way to go before we're kings and queens of R&B, so I anticipate a few more weeks of rough going. I do wish the bride had requested a little more Nat King Cole and a bit less Bebe & Cece Winans. :P

Monday 26
Since I don't think stealing Zooey Deschanel's heart is a realistic plan, I'm keepin' my eye out for someone who could sing me this song. It's been stuck in my head for weeks.

It doesn't get better than home,
now, does it?

She would never have to sing me this song, even though it's cute as anything:

Stopped by my parents' house after work for a bite, a chat, and some family prayer time. It was pleasant. Lately prayer has been a necessary release valve more than any kind of discipline for which I might take credit.

I Know No Other Stand

I have been distracted somewhat by the beginning of baseball season. There is a romance to the idea of the ballgame, for me. I don't have the same feelings about other major sports such as football, or basketball, or even my own soccer. I also recognize the timelessness of some sporting pastimes such as tennis or golf, but usually saw them as white privilege sports, which is a turnoff for me. But baseball is the old fashioned American Pastime, the iconography of childhood bubble-gum trading cards; it's the province of DiMaggio and the Babe, the same dust stirred by the prodigious cleats of Rollie Fingers and Willie Mays. There is nothing that compares to the tension as a pitcher works all the muscles of his body, and all the finesse in his fingertips, to bend the path of a projectile with pinpoint accuracy through the air around the swinging bat of a formidable opponent. Fine-tuned skill is pitted against fine-tuned skill for the pride of two American towns.

Andre "The Hawk" Dawson! The (erstwhile) Montreal Expos of the 1980's! Looking at this picture makes me feel like I am five years old again, in a good way.

Wednesday 14
Finished my taxes. I can't wait to get a little back this year. But next year I am determined to do them in February.

Thursday 15
After work I had been invited to come spend some time with Asher up in the hills where he was house-sitting for his boss the fire chief. Hot tub plus steaks and beer at a hill-folk fireman's house made it the most blue-collar guy-time I've had in a while, just brother Peter and old pal Asher. I called Ramsey and Jared but neither of them could go. Asher has been living in a bubble up there in the hills, away from everything. I haven't seen him much since the days we all used to go to college Bible study, perhaps three years ago now. After his breakup he just sorta receded into the hills and doesn't often drive down into town. It has been bad for his redneck complex, but he's still a man of solid character, and a trustworthy friend, which both make him good company.

Friday 16
Ashley (friend and band vocalist), called to let me know she couldn't go with the band to the college ministry Summit this year. Baby, husband, etc. That's a bit of a blow to Martha and the Chores, but we'll manage fine. It was doubtless the right choice. She'll still be singing with us in the wedding. The question raised in that conversation was whether the ever-improving MATC should begin to work more like a real band a less like a once- or twice-annual worship project. We agreed that nearly everyone in the band seems to be on-board for a higher commitment level. Friday night study was excellent conversation on the topic of godliness, in the context of 1 Timothy 4, devolving into a review of the basic gospel message. Really a refreshing time.

Saturday 17
Sunny and warm are new favorites of mine. Trent and I met Daniel Lee at the high school and played pick-up basketball. It was luxuriously healthy to get the exercise without the "hamster wheel" feeling of the rainy day gym. I got a light sunburn, of which I was proud. Family time at my parents' house in the evening to watch an old 1970's sermon by Nicky Cruz.

Sunday 18
Church was nice. The sermon was by the energetic young dad from Texas, Brady, who will be the Summit guest speaker this year. He asked us all to stand and sing my favorite hymn, Immanuel's Land, at the end of the sermon (lyrics at the conclusion of this post). Went home again and chatted with mom over PB&J. I love seeing (our yellow lab) Jude when I go home, and looking at the Cecil Brunner and blackberries intertwining in the sun. Band meeting and practice was more organized than usual, and went well. We've also, to the delight of all, been asked to add "When I'm 64" to the wedding song-list. That made my weekend.

Monday 19
Doctor check-up in the morning. He said I should keep receiving physical therapy a bit longer, and gave me a little immune system advice. Spent part of the day working and part of the day catching up on schoolwork. It's nice when the boss is out of town because I can work whatever hours I want. My suspicions were confirmed, upon looking over the grades; it doesn't appear I am on an "A" pace. Unacceptable! :/

Tuesday 20
Made an appointment with a potential client. Am happy with the prospect.

Wednesday 21
Physical therapy in the morning, work, then class in the afternoon. I discussed MEChA with one of my classmates. I had expressed some interest in attending MEChA meetings with some of my Chicano friends from SJSU, not so much because I agree with the policy positions of the group (in fact I quite disagree with most of their tact and ideology), but because I sympathize with some of their concerns and want to reach out to the Latin community in general when I can. I don't know if I'll go, however. I am not sure people in that group are about anything more than ethnic pride and Progressive politics, both of which I believe to be very insidious and harmful. In the evening Trent and I drove downtown to the Mini Gourmet, and met Peter, Phi, and DMV there, and they had brought an old acquaintance along in Bekka Bjorke. It was a fun evening, though sometimes the contrast of open-hearted Christians on one side of the table, against the aimless foulness of the utterly worldly on the other, is somewhat awkward. I wish I could get rid of their perception of my/our self-righteousness (in that I believe in truth and defend it) and just see the Jesus I see.

{ end }

Immanuel's Land

O Christ, He is the fountain, The deep, deep well of love,

The streams on earth I've tasted, More deep I'll drink above,

There to an ocean fullness, His mercy doth expand,

And glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land.

With mercy and with judgment My web of time He wove,

And aye the dews of sorrow were lustred with His love,

I'll bless the hand that guided, I'll bless the heart that planned,

When throned where glory dwelleth, in Immanuel's land.

O! I am my Beloved’s And my Beloved’s mine!

He brings a poor vile sinner Into His “house of wine.”

I stand upon His merit, I know no other stand,

Not even where glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

The Bride eyes not her garments, but her dear Bridegroom’s face;

I will not gaze at glory but on my King of Grace.

Not at the crown He giveth, But on His pierced hand;

The Lamb is all the glory of Immanuel’s land.

Moxy, The Proper Working Chair, and Lock-Picking

Monday 5
Sick day. Called in and the folks at the office agreed I should stay out. Wish I could say I did much with the free time, but I was ill. I stayed in, poked more at that video game, cleaned a bit, and laundered some necessaries, all with an ennui to do a snail proud. Primarily I slept a lot.

Called in to catch the boss before he left town. He thanked me for calling and relayed some skeletal instructions for the next couple of weeks. I reckon I can stretch it into two weeks' work.

n Aside: Brandini, Adrift My housemate Matt had some paperwork problems renewing his EMT license, so he is out of work for a week and a half waiting for the papers to clear. Its funny, even though everyone knows its just a formality, and he hasn't lost his job, he can't work until it comes through. So, as a result, we have both been strewn around at home. (I mean "strewn" in the least literal way. This living situation remains, even as a sick-house, the most pleasantly clean men's living quarters in which I have ever had the privilege of taking part.) He also has a cold, though not like my gunk, but is an incorrigible home-body, so he is reliably present at all hours for the next week or two.

Tuesday 6
I felt a good deal more energetic and the sun was out for once, but I still had the gunk and hadn't been cleared to work, so I started tackling things around the house more. I did a copious amount of laundry and some homework and reading, gave the lawn a close cropping and cleared some weeds out of the cracks in the sidewalk.

I don't really remember the whole day because it wasn't that memorable. Being away from work made me not want to do anything. By the end of the day my facebook status read:

I AM REALLY TIRED OF BEING SICK, STUCK AT HOME. Doctor appt. in the morning to find out what the heck is wrong with me.

Wednesday 7
Had an appointment with a Dr. Sullivan, ophthalmologist, about my eyes. Of course, by then they'd cleared up some. I liked his deportment and manner as much as I liked his name and the sense of humor I'd heard floating down the hall. He came highly recommended, and that clearly was because J. Sullivan, M.D., is highly recommendable. He happened to have a dropper-bottle of just the stuff I needed, Vigamox ("moxifloxacin hcl" is more fun to say) already sitting on his desk, so I walked away having paid only a $20 co-pay and no more. (I wrote an anecdote from this morning continued here. I got a lump in my throat when I was writing it. Yes, I am an intolerable sap.)

After being useless for two days, I was quite happy to be back at the office. I couldn't believe, logging in, that my time-card was really blank since the 2nd. Blah.

Someone left the perfect office chair out for free on the curb. I couldn't believe it. Yes, it's a mite rusty and dusty, but I cleaned it up and had all the parts moving soon. I just can't believe I was able to find just the thing. Now if only I could find a proper desk.





As I left the office I got a phone call from Jerry Brinson, an old Louisville friend with whom I had been feeling guilty about falling out of touch. We talked local politics and campaigns, and he told me the usual stories (in full technicolor cussing) in his heavily drawling middle-aged way, and explained how he had his seventh grandchild on the way now. I was so happy to hear from him, I could bust. I really ought to be praying for Jerry and Delois' family more.

Thursday 8
Went to my parents' place for dinner after work. On my way there Rob Evans, another old Louisville buddy who now lives in Atlanta, called me up. I was bummed out I could only talk for a couple of minutes. He's another guy I've been meaning to pray for, and catch up with. I haven't done that since a couple years ago after I visited.

I finished the leftover ham at my parents' house, THEN found out that they're completely broke and trying to figure out how to pay the mortgage this month. I think I would have eaten half the amount if I'd known. Sometimes I wonder about people who complain about the economy, if they really know what it's like to rely on God for money. You end up worrying a bit more but complaining a bit less. There is no reason in the world my dad shouldn't be paid, and there's also no money in the company that was employing him. What's a man to do? As kids I know we were lucky to have parents who even had a mortgage to pay. But many times growing up we ate and wore that mortgage. It makes one grateful for anything.

Friday 9

• I didn't quite finish the homework due at 11:00 AM. I don't know why I hadn't done it sooner.
• I also couldn't find the ol' moxifloxacin, the bottle of which is just too small. They ought to package it in a large, bright-red ball that you can't possibly misplace.
• I left for work in a rush, and realized halfway there that I'd left my phone.

It became clear that I was in the midst of a productivity downswing, a recurring pendulum-type thing just irregular enough that it can't be foreseen and calendared. It is characterized by a dratted absent-mindedness and mild physical clumsiness. I clearly need a return to method.

Went by home for a few minutes to pick up my moxy. Mom had some scriptures to share with me. Then I went to SaltWorks' Friday night study for the first time. I think I may have mentioned before that my friend Jared is going to start getting some much-needed fellowship there regularly, and I want to encourage him in that. Also a lot of my friends (read: members of Martha and The Chores) are involved in it. So, while I had forsworn "college ministry" activities, I may get involved there.

Saturday 10 - Monday 12

These days went by without much event of note, aside from the following. Saturday I cleaned a lot and cooked a mess of food so I will have something to eat. I made my brown ale meat-sauce angel-hair pasta. Matt liked that. I also got out the car cover for my wrecked Accord, since I decided to keep it and "part it out" to recoup some of its value. Of course, I don't want a wreck on my curb, so the car cover was the ideal solution. But it was locked, and the key missing. I felt very satisfied with myself for researching and picking the lock. The feeling of the barrel turning and the hasp opening was the feeling of conquest.



Sunday night's Martha and The Chores practice went well; we adopted two new (to us) songs, in Be Exalted and He is Jehovah. Our versions sound a good deal less corny than the linked recordings.

Homesuppin' and a Christian Bachelor Party

Thursday 25

As much as I wanted to get some things done at home, and be a crotchety little loner, I realized that my own need for intimate society paralleled that of the tone in my parents' pleas that I come over for a little dinner. Even though my brother is still at home, he is rarely there bodily, and even scarcer in attentiveness, as he is often mentally consumed by various outside undertakings even while physically present. As the passage of time (and the increase in my hunger) was inversely proportional to my desire to cook that mess of something I'd been meaning to cook, I conceded and drove to my parents' place for some chicken, roast apples, brown rice, and fellowship. Went home with every intention of going to sleep early, didn't fall asleep till 1:30. C'est la vie.

Friday 26

Woke up and went to the chiropractor's office for a physical therapy session, then headed to work. Work was happily busy, and afterward I posted some new things to my music blog before heading home to throw some things in a bag and commuting over to the Jeremys' house. There I met Jer Cooper and Mike Shaddle, and we packed up his raised Jeep Cherokee. After a bit of Chipotle and stopping for gas, we headed out. Conversation on the way up was good and deep. Jer and I postulated on being sin and righteousness, being Christian singles and preparing for eventual godly marriages, while Mike added observations from the perspective of a married peer. It was a good long conversation in which all three of us took turns, and it lasted us almost all the way up to Tahoe. We greeted some of the other guys who had already arrived for Jer Walker's bachelor weekend, including best man Josh Walker and Jer's UCD roommate Tim Ingrum. Stayed up watching Arrested Development Season One.

Saturday 27

Rose mid-morning to waffles and staggered Bible time. Finding that the tennis courts were closed and without nets, we proceeded to the outdoor basketball courts in the cold and played for three hours. We played four games, and oddly enough my shots were hitting, so I was on the winning team twice. We all had to stop and gasp for breath occasionally, as the icy, thinned mountain air clutched our lungs with its numbing talons. The thin sunlight soon forced us to doff our tees. It felt like summer in the midst of winter, getting a sunburn on the blacktop with snow in the hedges. The UV-rays and fresh air were revelatory to my hibernating skin. My greatest regret is that I played in my Chuck Taylor sneakers, which, classic casual chic or no, have not been considered proper sporting equipment since the 1960's. I discovered the reason for their obsolescence; I did sense the hot-spots but played through them, so by the end of the game I had blistered badly on the balls of both feet.

Later in the day we went to Fire+Ice for a perfect guy lunch: all-all-you-can-eat American food, cooked Mongolian barbecue-style. The group wandered about for a bit, myself hobbling like an old man, trying to find a place to buy a new game of Risk and some cigars.

We found the requisite tobacco but had no such luck with the Risk, instead opting to watch a matinee of Cop-Out after we were done being distracted by a parade. As much as I wanted to love a Tracy Morgan/Bruce Willis flic, it did not rise above the level of "generic guy movie" or "blatant Tracy Morgan antics vehicle" at any point, and most of us simply laughed at how bad the film was.

After the movies we went to some casinos, which were far less classy than I would have liked. For some reason I anticipated a crowd of nicely dressed, simpering moneyed sorts exchanging laughs and small-talk over sly gambler glances, amid the tinkle of champagne running over crystal. In general it just looked like a dark video arcade for grownups, with claustrophobic rooms, ugly, cheap, brightly colored carpet that crept up the walls to the ceilings, and dingy lights half-heartedly flashing everywhere.

A pack of tattooed, alcoholic d-bag types hung around with the occasional overly made-up woman. Cigarette staleness was everywhere. These women would probably have been more attractive in a different setting, with more becoming attire and less makeup, and a different outlook on life. But as is, they were instead instead quite unattractively beer-swooning and yelling at the big-screen UFC fighters. "BREAK'IZ AAAARM! BREAK HISZ ARRMMMmmm. Awww," they'd fade, going into a dissatisfied murmur of disappointment when sportsmanship was not in fact thrown to the wind in this particular televised match.

We spent an hour or so pumping quarters into a machine that makes plastic horses rattle awkwardly around a fuzzy miniature racetrack, while grossly cleavage-burdened, tired-looking women brought us cheap beers. After watching Jer Walker quietly turn $30 into $60 at the blackjack table, we exited, all underwhelmed, and drove back to the cabin, exhausted. Over pizza we watched The Hangover, during which hilarity I fell soundly asleep without realizing I was doing so.

Sunday 28

Woke nine-ish, had a little quiet time in 2 Samuel, since we'll be studying that this coming Saturday. Jer Walker did too, so we chatted a bit about how remarkable these stories were, at the beginning of David's reign, when he finally had the power to demand that they bring his wife back to him, who had been given away to another man, and how that man followed her all the way back weeping for her. Who does one pity? Both men had been wronged perhaps. I wonder that so little is said about her own feelings in the matter.

After another waffle-coffee breakfast, those of us who had fallen asleep finished the movie, and then cleaned the cabin. Cleaning the cabin was much more rewarding than finishing the movie, which was really only funny in flashes. But the cabin soon looked orderly and grateful, and shone a bit in the spring mid-morning. I cleaned the musty 70's bathroom, shaking out brown and yellow shag rugs that clearly had never been disturbed at any time in the last two decades. We packed and left, the Jeremys, Josh, and Mike for the slopes, and the rest of us home to our various responsibilities.

Tim, Karl Albright, Jay Adams, Robert Brown and I rode back together, chatting about various theological and political subjects of interest, and also concerning the mysterious, nuanced motivations behind the decision of some elderly to sell all in favor of RV living. Robert asked a good deal of questions about my own home church at Grace, which as usual I found hard to describe without sounding negative. But I think I succeeded in communicating some of the personality and ministry dilemmas without criminalizing anyone, which was a relief. It's especially hard to try to answer questions about why Beck and the other elder left recently, because I really don't know for sure. I only have guesses, and the truth is probably a good deal less dramatic than some curious types would probably like.

On arriving home I showered all the weekend away, nursing my sore muscles and blistered feet, and prepared for worship practice, which went relatively well again. Looks like we'll be ready for Summit, but I'll get more organized yet.

Chores and Chums

Sunday 21
Late Saturday night and back pain were enough excuse for my body to sleep through the alarm. Was mildly frustrated at not having gone to church. Spent a good part of the afternoon enjoying the sun and working in the yard. My war against the crab grass and weeds wages on, but in general things look a good deal better and less winter-scraggly now, which is rewarding.

The neighbor Michelle told me, very kindly, that I might get a traffic ticket if I park the wrong direction by the sidewalk in front of my house. However draconian the regulation, I am happy she told me.

Evening worship (Martha and the Chores) practice went generally well. Beth "Keybeth" Drew found she enjoys helping lead songs with a mic, so I think I will switch to keyboard on several songs this year. It has been a long time since I tickled the ivories much and I am happy for the chance to pretend at versatility.

Monday 22
Mild excitement at the office over the news my boss has a broken collarbone. Seems he will be out for a couple of days. Very unexpected development.

After work and class I dropped by the hardware store as quickly as possible and got my ammunition: crab grass and weed killer. Arrived home well before dark, changed into my old jeans, ancient Patrick Henry College Soccer long-sleeve tee, destroyed, decade-old Chucks, and yellow rubber gloves. Slight setback in that my quality-concerned roommate Matt had bought a new awesome hose sprayer nozzle that nevertheless does not have a male threading on it, so I had to go dig up the landlord's old busted sprayer head and hook it to the hose and my bottle of mild herbicide. Having carpet bombed the whole lawn with my weaponry, I went to work tackling the next problem.

Peter had been over the night before and woke up the next morning sick as a dog. So I disinfected the door-handles and knobs, and the remote, and a few other things. After that I hit up ol' Trader Joe's, had some beans and rice and a Redpop and called it a day.

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Tuesday 23
Went for physical therapy in the morning, worked, and went home to try to do a few things. Ended up letting Mom talk me into coming over for a family round of Ticket to Ride. Apparently Pete's feeling better.

Wednesday 24
Work, class. Got my exam back, marked 52 out of 50. Not bad.

Went home and met my neighbor/pal Ramsey Rhodes for coffee and discussions about God, among other things, which I think went well. Martha and the Chores and my roommates were meeting for burgers and then heading back to Preston & Ashley Langdon's house for dessert, but Ramsey and I talked for a long time, so I just met them for the second half. We bantered and laughed for hours till we glowed.

Various Joyous Boredoms

Friday 12.

Marooned. Drove across town to meet a fellow and look at the car he listed on Craigslist. Mike Alongi left me in his debt by driving across town from a different direction to give a second opinion. It was a maroon-colored 1993 Honda Accord four-door, two years newer than the one I had, with fewer miles. The owner listed it for $2500, which was a good amount for a high quality car of that age and mileage, so it was likely to be in pretty good shape. I was a little worried because the listing only showed one photograph of the passenger side of the car. It was also on the east side of town. I got there a bit before Mike or the owner did, and stepped out in the suburban drizzle to look at the car. As I walked toward it, I could see the passenger side, and it looked good. Toward the rear of the car, however, my heart began to sink. The back window had a Raiders sticker in the lower right-hand corner. I thought, well, I could scrape that off. But then I saw the blunt puncture damage below and to the left of the rear license plate in the trunk lid. Bad news. The trunk didn't seal properly. Looked like it had been badly repaired from a collision, and the listing had said it had a clean record! But then my mood changed entirely as I rounded the corner of the rear driver's side. All the doors and the fender on the left side of the car were black, and ill-fitting and dented. All the windows were rolled down... in the rain. I didn't bother to stay and wait for the owner, and I managed to intercept Mike before he got there, and take him out to lunch as a thank you for participating in my wild-goose chase. The owner of the car never called me to ask where I was. I think he must not have showed at all, or knew why I didn't show.

#RUBBERBANDFIGHT I tried to start a "rubberbandfight" hash on Twitter. Being that I am an amateur of the tweet, I think I should have put more thought into how such a thing might be accomplished. Almost no-one participated in shooting imaginary rubberbands at each other, which surprised me. I even tried to get Conan O'Brien's Twitter account to do it, but no. Most of my friends didn't jump in either. Only Quell returned fire. Note to self: two points for Quell.

As an unexpected positive externality to the failed rubberband fight on Twitter, a small rubberband skirmish broke out on my Facebook page, predictably, between people who had been at the wedding, including the Grove girls and Andrew's sister Sarah. Note to self: points for Lisa, Karena, and Sarah.

Saturday 13.

Saturday morning Bible study with the Fairhaven guys was canceled, so I stayed home and studied after the 6:00 AM fantasy baseball draft for my college chum Jeremy Purves' "Hitting the Bottle League." (I won the championship in 2008, but in 2010 I don't expect to even match the 3rd place ranking I achieved last year.)

Saturday night we caught up with the old "college group" crowd at Grace McCarthy and Katie Lanet's apartment. Trent couldn't come, which is just as well since Katie's new boyfriend Steven Pinheiro was there. But Peter came, as did Faith, and the girls' childhood friend Danni was there with her then-boyfriend, now-husband Sheldon, along with his pal Matt Ehlers. A good time was had goofing around with the newer guys, and overall it was a fun reunion and minimally awkward. Amid the highlights of the evening, such as our raucous rounds of Taboo, Matt and I discussed fantasy baseball and I agreed to sign on with his dynasty league. I think I will only be in two leagues this year.

Sunday 14.

Troubadour: Church, Churched, Was Churching, Have Churched, Had Churched, Will Church, Will Have Churched Helped Mike Alongi with worship music on Sunday. I was approached by a couple people afterward who said it sounded very nice, clearly with the added, emphatic, "you should come back next week." There was a very transparent concern among some of these folks, who are seasonal interns at our church and don't know all the history, that maybe I don't consistently come to church because there's something wrong. Who knows what they think? Backslider and without accountability? Maybe just a loner?

It makes me feel like their concerns are a little silly. I need God's grace like any other creation, but by that grace I persist, and am not less joyful or diligent for missing home-church fellowship occasionally. I tend to be there at church two Sundays a month, then out of town somewhere else one weekend a month, leaving the fourth Sunday of any given month to either help out in Oakland where my parents minister, sleep in and say heck with it, or visit somewhere else. Four weeks prior I slept in, and only went to the worship service, and had to leave promptly afterward. The next Sunday I was visiting friends in the East Bay and attended Fairhaven. Two weeks back I had attended the starved little Romanian church where my parents minister in Oakland, and helped with music. One week prior I was in Oregon, and now I was back home at Grace Bible Chapel.

An oddity about Grace is that if you don't go to the Breaking of Bread service at 9 O'Clock every week, people think you've left the church, and they feel bad, but they don't call to see what's up. They just give you quizzically concerned looks when you do inevitably reappear after your one- or two- (or in this case three-)week hiatus. The thing about that service is that it has changed. It used to be alive, but a lot of people have left, and it feels like a ritual, a formality. So I have not made it as much the priority as used to be my wont. I miss it, but thus far, attending the dead-wood versions of the last year-and-a-half hasn't brought it back yet.

Practice with Martha and the Chores, the current name of the ever-slightly changing lineup formerly known as the Summit Worship Band and the Fracehavenview Worship Band, was frustratingly bad. But practices have been so good most weeks, as we get ready for Summit and for John and Kaitlyn's June wedding, that one bad week will be okay. Tessa Devaul sent me a text afterward encouraging me not to worry that the practice was so frazzled, that it was okay and I'm doing a good job. Note to self: yeah you guessed it, 2 points for Tessa. The point, whether helping Mike, helping the Romanians, or practicing with the band, is to worship. In the end it's a mercy I didn't totally lose track of worshiping Him amid everything.

WEEKEND SCOREBOARD
Mike Alongi	10
Quell	2
Lisa Grove	1
Karena Grove	1
Sarah Keyarts	1
Tessa Devaul	2