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What Does This Mean? (Beyond Confirmation Class)

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I can practically sing “Phantom of the Opera” in my sleep. My son is in the marching band, and their program was “Phantom” this year. Besides the fact that he practiced it at home, we also have the advantage of living but two blocks from the school, and therefore we can hear the band when they practice outside. We heard “Phantom” every school morning, every Monday night when they had three-hour clinics, every halftime show for home games, and every weekend in October for competition.

But here’s the thing–the harder the competitions got, the more they practiced. You’d think by the time they’d done it a few times, they had the thing pretty well under their belts, but no. They worked on fine tuning the performance, sometimes quite literally. They held chords to figure out which instrument was out of tune. They played the same sixteen measures over and over to make sure everyone was stepping exactly where they ought. They needed to know every single detail about their part, and know it well. It was inspiring to observe their focus and dedication. And it’s a good lesson on what it means to live as Christians in the world.

Continue reading “What Does This Mean? (Beyond Confirmation Class)”

The Good Old Days

Two years ago we were living in dorm rooms. Yes, a family of five, with a baby on the way, was living in an unairconditioned dorm on a seminary campus. We had an unfortunate three-week gap between the sale of our house and the availability of our new house, and the seminary was gracious enough to allow us to stay in the guest dorm for an extended period of time. We had the dorm to ourselves, but we had communal bathrooms, dorm quality mattresses, and a kitchenette with only a fridge, a sink, and a microwave. Everything from our house was crammed into a storage unit. It was not fun, I assure you. We had a heat wave of over 100 degrees while we were there, I was eight months pregnant, and I had to get creative to come up with meals for the Crock Pot and electric skillet while navigating through three weeks without an oven or stove. Yet as I reminisced about our stay there, I found myself remembering it with fondness, even so far as to say, “Those were the good old days!”

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