Seeing the forest among the trees of writing

I developed this blog four years ago to rekindle a writing life. Writing is something innate to me. Though I don't consider myself an entrepreneur, constructing my own newspaper as a second grader came naturally to my existence, a fire fed for most of my life. The name of that newspaper was The Madhouse Gazette (sounds like a name created by second grader, right?).

The second plant of The Madhouse Gazette served two purposes. First, it provided me a place to sort out ideas not spoken from a pulpit or written in a newsletter. Occasionally I whittled an idea from a rough thought eventually carved into a sermon, but the blog turned into a place among the trees for me to rebuild a love for writing.

The second purpose sprouted after a vocational shift involving a move from pastoral work to parenting. I found myself missing the frequent theological wranglings among the work of diapers, naps, tight grocery budgets, and other topics for a home economist. The blog became my theological discourse in addition to my reflections of living as (mostly) stay at home Dad. The New Calvinists are shuddering somewhere...

My life has changed once again, and I now serve in a congregation that values my writing and me as a person. I live more as my true self in this congregation than any other I have known. Writing and ministry have an oak-like quality. Rooted, solid, branching out in interesting patterns and directions. Madhouse Gazette served a good purpose for four years, but the time has come for the blog to lay dormant--not to merely think about it, but write it down. Madhouse Gazette is going into hibernation, in a wooded cave. Maybe the dormancy will last a few weeks, months or years. I don't know.

I do not share my identity on this blog. Not that anyone cares, and not that it's too hard to figure out. It was a way to share my thoughts. If you want a more public side of my life and more regular writing, you can check me out at my other blog, your average pastor. The writing is more theologically oriented, without prominent references to pop culture or my children. I miss writing about those things, but this became more challenging in my crazy commute. I spend around 8-16 hours in the car per week--and my time in front of my desk top computers is limited. Regularly blogging on Madhouse Gazette is one aspect of my life that is pruned.

Something may grow stronger in the months ahead, especially if I can lay my hands on an iPad without going into debt.

Caught in a Lenten Vortex

Last year during the season of Lent, it was all I could do not to be a curmudgeon. See what Easter joy brings?

Last year, I wasn't even serving in a congregation full-time. I was a Saturday-Sunday only pastor, commuting 400 miles round trip on the weekend to South Dakota Ranch Country. I still had to face Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. I was crabby then. To be crabby takes a certain amount of effort, an effort for which I had time last year. Now, I don't even have time to be a curmudgeon. I can only put my head down, and pray that God will shine through me some ray of grace, because I don't have much in me, and any grace I will receive truly is grace, because I don't deserve it.

That being said I see good in the world around me. I see a budding call in a servant of the Church who has worked to turn his life from something destructive to something that can feed others. I am working hard to equip and encourage this person. I see a congregation working and praying to be vital in what they perceive to be scarcity. I see new congregations forming out of the dreams of beleaguered souls that desire to be redirected.

My favorite theologian, Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann calls this kind of proclamation I am doing a psalm of disorientation and reorientation. Though my writing doesn't match the psalms. I experience disorientation and reorientation during Lent, but the reorientation seems farther off.

More on satellite radio, iPhone, podcasts and social networking sites

I've been listening to a free trial of XM Radio in our Honda Element during my 60 minute commute. I appreciate the variety and range of easy access music that gives me ideas for worship services and sermons. I've learned of a few more new bands I to whom I wish to give a deeper listen. But it's still not worth $13-14 per month.

My iPhone is the free link to a much broader spectrum than XM radio. I have Pandora and CBC Radio free apps on my iPhone--and I'm sure I could find more. Since I've expanded my contacts on Twitter to more music-related forums--I know I can dig around my Twitter contacts for ideas for music. I am not at a loss for expanding my musical universe. And there's always the good folks I know at Trade Root Music who can fill me in on great music ideas. I will not be at a loss for music once the XM trial expires in March. Thank goodness XM doesn't have a credit card number for me anymore to renew me without permission.

A New Old Citizenship

When I attended McKnight Middle School in Renton back in the early 1980's, my report card gave other grades besides performance. One of those other grades was "citizenship." I wasn't exactly sure what that meant and how one teacher who saw me for a few hours per week (and worked hard to keep me occupied and learning) could observe my life as a citizen, let alone give me a grade. I think even the most self-aware of my classmates could attach this grade to behavior rather than performance. After leaving McKnight, I never saw this grade for citizenship again.

I once had very high and positive expectations for President Obama--though I wouldn't go so far as to call it "hope." Though I've always had interest and passion about politics, I never held an illusion that politics and politicians were a place to invest the energy of hope. For me, party politics has sunk to a new low. I've haven't taken well to the two-party system in the United States since my college days, and the actions of Democrats and Republicans in my adult life have not inspired me to draw any closer to political life outside of being an educated voter. It's hard to advocate for misguided or power hungry leadership.

However, I am still a citizen of the State of Washington and the United States. I am not required to support a political party to be a citizen. To be a good citizen, I can participate in public life, independent of decisions of Republicans and Democrats--to make lives better for my family and other people. Ideology does not come in to play. Democrats or Republicans will not prevent me from volunteering at my daughter's school. I volunteered at my daughter's elementary school last Friday for the first time, and I had an awakening to the meaning of citizenship. I realized that my energy toward Republicans and Democrats was misplaced for all of these years. My energy will be placed toward being a good citizen.

More on this topic later--but today I had to make a proclamation of a personal investment in a new old citizenship.

My evolving relationship with coffee (Part 9)

I stopped drinking coffee recently--I can't tolerate it's bitter earthen taste without sugary or chemically laden additives. I've switched to my brother's Yerba Mate methodology for keeping alert via beverage consumption.

Daughter #2 questioned the change. On the way home from church on Wednesday, she asked me "Daddy, where's your iced mocha?"

I explained to her that I'm now drinking tea instead of iced mochas. She replied, "Oh! We'll have a tea party!"

Even though our family is looking for a better home base so we have less family commuting, I am going to miss the longer conversations in the car with my three year old. I will need to make sure that we find other forums for our conversations.

Getting back on track (literally and figuratively)

Grief and lack of exercise mean lack of writing in my life. It was a strain to put out what I did in the last week. I had to force myself to write something, lest the memories of Hunter drift away into abstraction. Writing makes those memories tangible.

I've run three consecutive days now, which is no small feat considering my recent schedule. I know that exercise is supposed to take priority in daily life, but good habits dwindle quickly, especially when tens of thousands of dollars are on the line in the closing of a house and a beloved dog dies. I've learned that I can't get my running habit established in the winter without a set alarm clock--one of the big transitions between warm and cold weather running in a northern area of the country. I usually wake up on my own, but I also take my time getting up and moving. It's one of my few peaceful times alone during the day--so I like to savor it in the time I carve out around the run. I hate the quickie brand of run.

Writing and running go hand in hand for me, I suppose those linked variables are related to expanded blood flow to my brain and what that combination does for my outlook on life.

Adding insult to injury

While traversing the Kitsap Peninsula for work this weekend, I wanted to catch a little bit of the Washington-UCLA game. Having them on television is still a novelty to me after 20 years in the Midwest. When the Huskies were good during that stretch--I might be able to get a nationally televised game, but for many years I was stuck with mediocre Big Ten football, and once in awhile I could occasionally watch the Jayhawks, but would usually get stuck with Nebraska or Iowa State. Yawn.

I finally found the Applebee's in Silverdale and caught most of the fourth quarter. I found myself hopeful, even after a big missed field goal. UCLA was not playing the role of a juggernaut, and Washington had the best player on the field in Jake Locker. Having seen in person "The Drive" against USC, I thought good things were possible and the Huskies would mature and pick up a needed road win.

Interesting crowd at Applebee's at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon--not the Dawg-watching hotspot I was hoping for, more like the elderly early-dinner crowd. My cheers for the Huskies were somewhat muted, but I could at least watch the game. I wanted a beverage, but not a pop--I was already strung out on caffeine for the day. I still needed to work and drive, so I opted for an O'Doul's. Even the taste of beer and football sounded good. I was about halfway through that near-beer when Locker threw the interception and the game was essentially over. Throwing the bottle through the television would not be an appropriate response.

I reconsidered the beer throwing position when I got the bill. $4.60??!?!?!? For a 12-ounce O'Doul's???? I am not a bar patron often enough to know what the going rate for a beer is, but that price was brutal. Go ahead and kick a Husky fan when he's down, Applebee's.

Action-packed week

Closing on a house, attended a conference, leading a stewardship campaign, preparing to lead a retreat. I think family laundry needs to get done at some point. Mercifully, someone else is preaching this Sunday. I didn't deal with too many deadlines outside of getting my daughter off to school in the morning and picking her up after school. I don't mind the deadlines--I am only recognizing the big mental shift. I am thankful for the peaceful moment this morning staring at the Pacific Ocean waves and listening for the sound of the surf as I walked in between each conference activity. I am a West Coast guy.

Deepening theological poverty

Looking back on my posts over the past two months, I've noticed that my posts have become less explicitly theological. Now that I'm preaching again on a regular basis and talking about God with adults--my need to write about these things has shifted to other forums. This blog has been an outlet for me when I had no congregation and I needed to keep my sanity in the midst of moving and talking with a three year old for most of the day. I may still hit some theological themes on occasion, but today I wanted to reflect the deeper theological poverty of my writing.

An evolving relationship with coffee (part 6)

Now that I am fully in the swing of working life again, I find myself more desperate at times to stay alert. More shuffling of kids, more immediate demands, more necessary generation of ideas. I'm not a full member of the coffee or caffeine cults, but the trend moves in that direction. Whenever I do drink coffee, I must doctor it up with ice, silk and sugar (my preference), or chocolate, motor oil, or whatever I can stick in there to make the coffee tolerable. Because I'm in charge of coffee consumption and don't use it as a social lubricant, I control the taste.

However, I got lazy the other day. Whizzing through McDonald's the other day (I'm a sucker for their Monopoly game) I bought a coffee and had cream and sugar added. With one smell and one drink I was reminded of all the years of coffee loathing in my lifetime--the coffee hater's version of the dying person's life flashing before them. I gagged. I gave it three chances, thinking that settled, then shaken cream and sugar would somehow make it taste better. Yuck.

Coffee loathers, stay vigilant. Get your caffeine (if you need it) and get out.

Alas, Poor Theology

Recently I've found that I get plenty of theology at work in my new congregation--and therefore this blog serves as an escape for me from becoming a complete theological nerd. The trend in my writing here moves more toward implicitly than explicitly theological.

Regardless of explicitly or implicitly theological writing, rest assured, the theology will remain poor. I have a reputation to uphold.

The Washington Huskies and reality

I still haven't come down from Washington taking down USC last week. Though television technology has taken sports to a new level, a live event still offers a unique shared experience.

The rebuilding project will still take some time for the UDub--and Stanford looked like a pretty good team. I tire of the bromides about being a physical football team, but Stanford brought an extraordinary level of toughness that the Huskies couldn't match last evening. The Pac-10 is going to be a blood bath this season, and 6-6 or 7-5 or 5-7 looks about right for the Dawgs. Maybe they'll do better (still hoping). The play of the Huskies yesterday reminded me of the volatile psyche and performance of my days as a late teen/early adult years. It's even tough to learn as an older adult about preparing for solid, consistent performances in the midst of adrenaline rush. I applied that wisdom last week as I almost stopped cheering in the 3rd quarter so I would have a voice left and be able to do my job with integrity on Sunday morning. Some student athletes are wise beyond their years and can accomplish this--which is why I appreciate my lessons as a student-athlete that much more.

Driving Miss Daughter #2

About half of my commuting days to work involve daughter #2. She seems to like music (though she doesn't like to hear me sing) and talk with me about what she sees. She may talk a lot, but she has a narrow focus of topics:

1. "Hey Daddy. That's broken. You need to fix it." Usually this means she sees a construction site or a decaying urban structure.

2. "Hey Daddy. That's dirty. You need to clean it up." This means she has seen anything involving dirt--from a large dirt pile, to anything that looks disorderly.

3. "Hey Daddy. There's the Tamoma Dome. It's a castle." She refused to believe that the Tacoma Dome wasn't a castle, but I eventually convinced her it's a dome that hosts music, basketball and football games. This now sounds plausible to her.

She will also point out airplanes and the many cars on the road.

After our commute, I drop her off at the preschool/child care facility. She is generally excited upon arrival, but she's shy when she gets in there. The teacher says it takes my little girl about 30 minutes to warm up to everyone. She's back to taking an afternoon nap, which is probably a relief to the teachers--they need some peace, too. She's learning letters A and B these days and the accompanying sign language.

Enjoying Google Chrome

In office exile I have been relegated to using a PC again, to which I end up having to ask questions of the resident computer expert to get basic things figured out. Forget intuition and learning things on my own, I am stuck with this computer.

My oasis has involved installing Google Chrome as my default web browser. This is the first time on a PC I've felt like I have a Mac-like interface with intuitive movement on the computer. It's interesting working with Microsoft products that sputter, lock and frustrate. This is not to say that I am never frustrated with my Mac, but we are able to resolve our issues together 95 percent of the time. With Microsoft, I usually need a mediator.

I am a Mac, and I believe in direct communication.

Thank you, Google for making a fine browser for me to survive the PC world.

Thematic preaching topic: time

Sunday marks my first sermon as the new pastor at my new congregation. This is not a lectionary congregation, so I've been working on a sermon series that will cover 4 weeks in September and October. The problem is a preaching hole left by Labor Day weekend. This is not the Sunday to count on a critical mass. Though I'm certainly game for surprises.

I found a text because I had to meet the needs of the worship materials producers. I came to the topic of time because time intentionally marks the boundaries service as an interim pastor. I also came to the topic of time because I was digging for a text and found Ecclesiastes 3: 1-13 referenced in an interim ministry journal. Most pastors go into a congregation with an open end to their time boundaries. My time is not fixed in a congregation, but a definitive boundary is set: whenever the next pastor comes. Typically, in a Lutheran congregation, that takes about 1 year, give or take a few months.

Time drew me in because in every interim congregation, I face a similar statement uttered by congregational leaders. Whenever we talk about an opportunity for ministry, inevitably someone will say "we should wait to do X until the next pastor arrives." At one time, I thought this ministry holding pattern was a good idea. It got me off the hook for a lot of extra work--and why would I want to make things difficult for a colleague who comes and serves after me. However, I think if someone is going to try something new, maybe that time is appropriate. I like to wait as much as the next person, but in the presence of the provocation of the Holy Spirit, how is that not the time to pass on the grace of God in a creative way? Does a pastor have to make a seal of approval on everything that happens in the congregation? I can understand the sentiment that a person, group or congregation would like to have a sense of their new pastor's way of doing things, lest something new openly contradict a technique or philosophy of the new pastor.

Theologian Paul Tillich in his writing/sermon on the aforementioned Ecclesiastes text talks about how God's timing breaks into human timing. Ecclesiastes is a wisdom text that in chapter 3 shares a poem about the breadth of human existence and that it all comes down to timing. Tillich states that Jesus reveals the in-breaking of God's time when he says, "the kingdom of God is at hand," and eventually renders Ecclesiastes' words about human timing as something to reconsider in the light of Christ.

First days in preschool for child #2

We've been talking for weeks with daughter #2 about going to school. She doesn't exactly know the scope of institution--but she wants to do the things her older sister does, yet she wants to be independent. She had to acquire "Skechers" just like her older sister--picking out her own style but the same brand at Fred Meyer. Before she started on Tuesday, every building we passed brought the inquiry: "Is that my school? Is that my school?"

After 2 days, her ebbed enthusiasm makes me wonder if this is the right course, but we're already traveling this road. I can't quit my job now, and hers is a natural reaction to a completely different social situation. It's only three days per week, and her days aren't always full. I also admire her skepticism about the whole socialization process, I can relate to looking at any crowd with apprehension.

I miss the small, regular interactions throughout the day, and I look forward to Friday when we can hang out together at home. I will be off doing my chores somewhere in the house and she will come find me and say "Hey, Daddy!" Then, all will be right with the world.

My kind of beach

The beach always ranks as a top destination spot for my family and me, but to what kind of beach shall we go? I have traveled to beaches in Southern California, Nicaragua, Virginia, Massachusetts, Florida and Rhode Island. I will always love the lower development cool, drizzly, and cloudy beaches in Washington. Sunny and warm is my least favorite weather pattern. If you're looking for sun 'n' fun, I would recommend going somewhere else.

My family made fun of Moclips, Washington, growing up. We drove there once for I don't know what reason--our destinations of choice involved places that had more services available, like Ocean Shores and Long Beach. As a kid I lived for the trip to the Ilwaco Bowl bowling alley. I prefer Moclips now. Even though we saw people walking along the beach and even saw a wedding party a few hundred yards to the south of our little spot, it felt like we had the place to ourselves. My dear wife and I escorted our children to their favorite kind of outing in the world. It doesn't matter if we hit the Puget Sound or the Pacific Ocean--they can spend hours at the beach running around, picking, digging and exploring. The boundaries are natural and wide. They run, and we kind of follow them.

However, this trip to Moclips was also about family gathering and celebrating milestones--this time, my parents 40th wedding anniversary. I once had this image that perfect family gatherings were possible, if not at least expected. I observed in my childhood that this was a fleeting desire. An attempt to hit a moving target. Family gatherings are not perfect. We all have our imperfections and brokenness, and we do our best to recognize the blessing of family and enjoy the presence of one another. We prepare meals, we play cribbage (my youngest brother trounced me), watch baseball, share stories, and of course--play at the beach. My parents got to watch the whole imperfect, but blessed conglomeration of relationships that is our family.

The reason I like going to Moclips and the Washington beaches is I get to be in my favorite weather and contemplate the gentle yet powerful process that is erosion at work, and I get to do it in a peaceful way. It's the best witness to God I've had in a long time--the evidence of God's action is all around us, yet so subtle, like the undercurrent as it peels the sand away from the bottom of my feet. I can't do a thing about that sand that moves from under my feet. With that movement of sand, I am reminded that my time of two years of part time ministry, full time parenthood and their gently rhythmic yet powerful day are coming to an end. I return to full-time employment tomorrow. I have written more than I have in years, and I've realized that writing is a foundational activity for my balance. I've learned that writing is not a good activity in and of itself--most message boards have made "the pen is mightier than the sword" concrete. Where my writing will go from here, I do not know. Though the erosion may take away the resources from one place, surely they will be deposited somewhere else.

Back to work--hopefully not back to the Tyranny of the Urgent

It's official: I return to full time work outside the home for the first time in almost exactly 2 years September 1. With lots of family in town, a trip to the beach planned, and a few freely flowing days remaining, I can look back on a time apart from the Tyranny of the Urgent and say it was a time that the lives of our daughters were stabilized. Though children are resilient, we learned to re-prioritized the simple things that gave all of our worlds centeredness: evening meals together, a consistency in teaching life skills, faith practices, and time for simple joys. In some ways, I believe that this time apart will give my family the ability to stay centered in even more challenging vocational times.

My dear wife, after a summer of getting acquainted with her new context and job description will become more involved and influential with her work. I will become acquainted with a new, yet old context in my experience. Daughter #1 will put her new budding academic skills to the test, and we will learn if these two years of reshaping her life and giving her the support she needs will bear fruit in peer relationships. Daughter #2 takes her first extended move into a self-aware and social world in preschool. I will look upon these days of work sabbatical and stay-at-home parenting with great fondness. Parenthood doesn't really end, but it evolves. In my drives to work next week, I will feel the twinge of melancholy intermixed with thankfulness.

What I hope I have learned in the past 10 or so years is that I need not be held captive by the Tyranny of the Urgent (moving back and forth from emergency to emergency), or delusions of personal status at the expense of integrity, call, or my primary relationships.

The freedom of God, atmospheric activity and the ELCA

My thoughts are still in process regarding the ELCA's Churchwide Assembly adopting new ministry standards for lesbian and gay pastors. One topic of reflection I feel called to address because I have read it on numerous occasions: the notion that because of the Assembly vote, God sent tornadoes to Minneapolis. I may write more in the coming weeks about the decision and the fallout, or the connection between storm and judgment may amount to all I have to write.

Interesting how atmospheric activity is conveniently used by people to espouse their understanding of God. This kind of connection isn't confined to folks like Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell. I'm finding this kind of logic in many kinds of forums, from people in significant Lutheran leadership to local message boards (check out the comments in this article).

What does the logic of climatic activity being connected to God say about God? First, I think it's important to consider all of the tornadic activity in North America since 1900. Even this large sample involves a limited historical scope of atmospheric activity. Examine all of the people that were killed and all the property damaged in these storms. Can every storm be connected to God's judgment? How can anyone know in this limited sample of storms? If God's judgment were indeed reigning upon Minneapolis during the ELCA Churchwide Assembly for the decisions that it made for such an apparently egregious sin, wouldn't God have caused a lot more damage and death?

I do not know the answers to these questions. I believe that God has the freedom to act in any way God chooses--but I think it's dangerous logic to attach any storm to God's judgment based on an emotional response to a divisive issue.

Even though I am a part of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and I have heavily invested my vocational life to its ministry, I do feel some detachment from this kind of vitriol in the ELCA. The ELCA does not completely woven into my entire cultural life or all of my relationships. The ELCA may split--but I will always share kindred spirits in the Church who believe in "justification by grace through faith" what I believe is the crux of Lutheran theology. I do not find attachment to hierarchy, organization or ethnic culture that goes along with Lutheranism. I support Lutheran organization to a certain extent because it speaks to how we live together and work together, but I cannot work in the national church in this kind of relational climate. If this stance is a flaw on my part, so be it. My identity is in my baptism into Christ, not the church that did the baptizing.

The issue of contention to me does not appear to be about sexuality at all (though I think it has more to do with taboo than sex), but about how we read the Bible. When I first began examining Bible reading approaches I learned some things about biblical inerrancy. I found this discussion to be problematic in the congregations I served, and once the fervor died down, people lost interest. I think the inerrancy question was one of the things that was never solved when the ALC and LCA merged to form the ELCA, and that is coming home to roost at this time. In light of the present vitriol in public discourse and further proclamations of inerrancy and questions surrounding it, I had to dig a little deeper for writing and research on the topic. In my search I found some enlightening articles addressing philosophy, history and polity relating to inerrancy. What I found is that the inerrancy question is a relatively recent construct that does not trump "justification by grace through faith." I tried to bring out this idea in my last sermon, but I think people have reached a point of emotionality that has cut off the ability to work faithfully and well on this topic of human sexuality and church leadership.

I only hope that I have added a little bit of faithfulness and thoughtfulness to the discourse. Lord, have mercy.

Reliving the field trip through tourism

In some places I have lived, some points of the city were only viewed when visitors came from out of town:

Twin Cities, MN: Mall of America
Copenhagen, Denmark: The Little Mermaid

The Milwaukee, Wisconsin, metro had good things to do, but not in the classical tourist sight-seeing fashion. In Wisconsin, cultural tourism is the way to go. Some of the best times my dear wife and I enjoyed during our 2.5 years there involved basic activities that locals enjoy as well: eating brats/sausage, cheese and the abundance of beer; fish fries (amazing cultural activity--I once read Wisconsin is the highest fish consumption state in the country), enjoying the beautiful autumns, walking near the lake shore, attending sporting events in Madison, Milwaukee Brewers baseball, and Lambeau field. All of these places involve good interaction with locals, something that cannot be promised at a particular tourist destination. I'm not anti-tourist (though I can only handle being a tourist in small doses), I like to find places to visit where I can talk to locals about life in that place.

Seattle has more sights similar to Copenhagen and the Twin Cities. With some visitors coming to town recently, we were off to the kid-friendly stops, the Seattle Aquarium, Pike Place Market and the Space Needle. The Seattle Aquarium is an interesting conglomeration of school/summer camp field trippers, tourists, and local families. I attended at least 2 field trips to the Seattle Aquarium as a child, and visited there on other occasions. I know field trips still occur in these days of slashed education budgets and increased standardized testing, but my anecdotal observation says field trips are dying as an educational experience. That makes me feel melancholy about education. Ultimately, my children will know much more than me in their lifetimes, but I believe in the field trip education experiences I had as a child. The girls and I thoroughly enjoyed the aquarium that day--the best part being that they could touch sea cucumbers, sea anemones, sea urchins and starfish. If the place wasn't crawling with street urchins, I could have hung out there poking and gazing at the sea life for hours--ah, to explore without a schedule--but we let the girls spend the most time there. If I could have been any kind of scientist, it would have involved oceanography.

Of the non-touching exhibits, we liked the jellyfish and the seals the most. We see a lot of jellies on the Puget Sound, but at the aquarium, we were able to examine their intricacies in clearer water behind Plexiglas. Watching seals in captivity is a love-hate experience. They interact with the humans like no other sea life I have seen; they were hamming it up and made us all laugh several times. I wonder about mammals in captivity. I'm sure plenty of people are appalled by the whole enterprise, but I also value the appreciation and awareness about God's creatures that comes from a visit that my girls take to the Seattle Aquarium.

The Space Needle is a place for great views of Seattle and the Puget Sound, but it's not the only viewpoint available in the region. If you want to dodge people taking pictures of one another, purchase expensive provisions and kitsch, the Space Needle is for you. It deserves one or maybe two visits in a lifetime--it might have been enjoyable if the girls weren't so hungry and cranky. I think I got whiplash from keeping my head on a swivel all day--keeping track of two busy girls in a big city takes significant effort, which is probably why my parents didn't take my brothers and I to downtown Seattle on a regular basis.

Now that I have just about squarely hit midlife, I'm the one providing direction and guidance more often in more settings--this little tourist trip represented a shift of roles for me as a Pacific Northwesterner. Our visitors provided me with an opportunity to refine my cultural attache routine for whomever makes the trek to the Seattle metro. Come on over!