Thankful Thursdays: Help for the Computer-Clueless

Bad news: my computer was being screwy.
Good news: I know a lot of people who can help diagnose it.
Bad news: diagnosis is "needs a new hard drive."
Good news: it's still under warranty.

Mellifluous Mondays: A Face in the Crowd

"Somebody"

Somebody being a nobody,
Thinking to look like a somebody,
Said that he thought me a nobody:
Good little somebody-nobody,
Had you not known me a somebody,
Would you have called me a nobody?

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

In Which There Are Small Children

I really enjoyed church today, and not because of the worship or the message. Nope, it was the kids. Not to say that the worship or message was bad, by the way, but since I was in the nursery all morning, that kind of knocks me out of the rest of it. :)

When I spend an hour with a bunch of toddlers, it really puts the rest of church service into perspective. These are the young lives that will be shaped by what their parents hear in the sermon; these are the little people who will hear every word we say, learn every hymn we sing, imitate every act of devotion (and soberingly, every sin) they see us do. The songs and theology that seem to belong exclusively to the "grown up world" have significant effects on the nitty-gritty details of life, not only for us, but for each child in that nursery. We don't act alone when we are part of the Body of Christ. When one member grows, the others rejoice and reap the rewards alongside him. But when one member falls, the others suffer too.

It's a good reminder for me as a college student, frequently lost in the clouds of my own academics. All the things I learn will someday affect my brothers and sisters in Christ. That web of influence extends through space, through time, through many ages and personalities.

They say that no man is an island. I think that's especially true for the Church.

Thankful Thursdays: Work and the Ability to Do It

Sweet is the sleep of a laborer, whether he eats little or much . . . Behold, what I have seen to be good and fitting is to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of his life that God has given him, for this is his lot. Everyone also to whom God has given wealth and possessions and power to enjoy them, and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil—this is the gift of God. For he will not much remember the days of his life because God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart.
-Ecclesiastes 5

I am grateful for every single one of my jobs, from teaching composition to being an RA. I'm ashamed that I would ever complain about working; it's a blessing from the Lord, a way to imitate His creativity and help to "subdue the earth" as it were. All of my jobs are convenient and mostly enjoyable. Besides that, they provide enough money for me to pay for my own clothes/food/what-have-you, and also to avoid massive college debt. How kind of God to provide work for me, then give me the time and inclination to accomplish it well.

Look, a thesis paragraph

This is for my honours thesis, pompously entitled "Morals and Make-believe: A Comparative Evaluation of Purpose, Form, and Didactic Effect in the Fantasy Worlds of George MacDonald, Kenneth Grahame, and Lewis Carroll."

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I believe that the “eccentric men” who authored these classic works [The Princess and the Goblin, The Wind in the Willows, and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland] cherished purposes deeper than escapism. I have concluded that their fictional worlds are all intended to serve a distinct goal: MacDonald aimed to craft something relevant to our own experience, Grahame sought a healing alternative to painful reality, and Carroll wished to amuse children with unrealistic fragments and simultaneously to protect them from immorality. These facts become clear in view of their own explicitly expressed authorial intentions, the meticulous construction of their worlds, and the moral effect given by each book. Each wonderland offers vivid cultures and definite “spiritual” expectations, the hallmarks of intentional craftsmanship; moreover, as we enter the fantasts’ creations, we cannot help but conform our emotions and beliefs to those expressed there.

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So there you have it. Wordy and circuitous, perhaps, but at least presentable. Hooray! Now to expand, edit, and polish the 48 pages of blather which follow it. I don't want my poor long-suffering thesis committee to die of verbal overload. I have till March . . .