The problem with packages

Almost a month ago I was asked to see if I could get a hold of a copy of The Fourth Wiseman a comic rendering of the wise man who missed the birth of Jesus because he was busy helping a man who had been robbed on the side of the road. He spends the next thirty some odd years looking for the child king become a man, hanging out with lepers all while his slave begs that they just go home and give up their quest... even more annoyed when the quest is paused to help the helpless. It all stars Martin Sheen, which in light of Two and a Half Men seems a bit strange. Isn't the Sheen supposed to be chasing after a blond or something?

But that isn't my story.

My story is of my own quest. I was asked to get a hold of this movie for Sunday school on this New Year's Eve. Other classes were canceled, anticipating that this indeed would be "low Sunday" and not many would be around. We'd combine classes so that we wouldn't just be scattered to the four winds lamenting our brothers and sisters who were so wise as to roll over in bed or settle in with the newspaper this morning.

I began my quest by confirming that NetFlix did have the movie. I put it in my queue to be requested at the top of my list the day after Christmas, in good time to have the movie without much stress. I'd continue my movie marathon and all would be well. It was well. Classes were canceled, the event was published. We even figured out how to use a popcorn machine. But all was not well.

Some days before Christmas I looked at my queue. Something had changed. Now instead of all the movies being available now (save for Its A Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street, predictably enough had a "short wait) now one movie had "a very long wait." You guessed it that one movie was The Fourth Wiseman, a movie unknown to myself two weeks ago but apparently known by every other pastor who was interested in showing films. Alas, I could not depend on the oh so dependable NetFlix.

I've done the thing before, where I ran around the city and made phone calls looking for a movie. That was all well and good once, but it wouldn't serve us well in the end... or be likely to yield fruit. Have you seen it at Blockbuster? Besides, aren't all the Blockbusters slowly closing?

So I turned to the purchasing option, and decided to have the CE committee (me) bless the purchase. I looked on Amazon. Out of stock. Available in 2-3 weeks. Ok, lets look at Barnes and Noble. My luck they had it, and it could easily be delivered just after Christmas. I ordered enough other books to make the shipping free... and it was set no worries.

Christmas came, and Christmas went. I got an e-mail saying that the package indeed was shipped, I could expect it on Friday (or Saturday at the latest) via USPS. I could pick it up at the apartment office by 5PM, and while I wasn't thrilled with the prospect of cutting it that close it could have been closer. And it was.

December 27th rolled around and I got an e-mail from Barnes and Noble. "Due to an unexpected delay, we are unable to ship the merchandise listed below in the time frame indicated in our previous email. We anticipate that your merchandise will be shipped within the next 1-5 business days. (Please note: business days are Monday through Friday, excluding holidays observed by the Post Office.) As always, you will not be charged until this merchandise ships from our warehouse."

How nice of them not to charge me. Ha! That merchandise was not the other books that I ordered, they indeed would be here right on time. It was indeed none other than the holy grail of church Christmas movies. The Fourth Wiseman. Apparently BN.com didn't anticipate the film's popularity either. So I canceled my order and began to think of alternatives.

A Christmas Story? I had that one, somehow it wasn't quite Sunday School material.

Miracle on 34th Street? Its a Wonderful Life? All cliche and secular.

The Nativity Story, wait that isn't out on DVD yet and I didn't want to see it anyway.

Brother Sun, Sister Moon? No... that wouldn't do. There's nudity in that... I'm not uncomfortable with nudity, are you?!?!?!?!?!?!

The most likely substitute seemed to be Monty Python's Life of Brian. It is the story of someone who keeps missing Jesus after all. What would be the difference between a wiseman who missed Jesus and the boy born in the stable next to him. So what if the Catholic Church banned it? We didn't nail the 95 theses up at Wittenberg to be tied to the pope's dogma. We're Protestants after all. My gut though said we shouldn't go with it.

Now I've had a few long dark nights of the soul recently. Stewing over things that will not be published for posterity's sake... and in the midst of one of these long dark nights I came up with the solution. One day shipping. It was it was prodigal and indulgent; a sin my thrifty upbringing had not allowed to even cross my mind... you mean you don't have to get Super Saver shipping? And so late that night I did it. I ordered a single movie with one day shipping from Amazon (which incidentally now had my movie in stock). I did this after I signed up for a free trial of Amazon Prime (so my one day shipping would set me back $1.99). Hah, I'll be canceling that one soon.

Anywho all is right in the world. UPS would deliver my package on Friday. I tracked it online. It shipped out late Thursday night, arrived in Houston and was out for delivery Friday morning. I put a sign out so that the package would be safe in my hands. I would not trust Alan the apartment manager (who swears I do not have a package while my hand holds the little slip) to handle my cargo.

And 5PM came and 5PM went, strange... there was no package in my hands. No package on the doorstep. I tracked it again. It had been delivered. It had been delivered but not to me. I looked in Sam's room. Not there. My package was here, I didn't know where. I looked again. It had been signed for by "Perry" who the hell is Perry???? And so I began to think again... Maybe Life of Brian wouldn't be so bad. Maybe we could all just make paper airplanes. I couldn't very well just fake laryngitis and write on the board "read your textbook, take notes - there will be a quiz" when something has gone terribly wrong at work and I can't teach. I've never done that... but it is up my sleeve.

At 10AM the apartment office opened. They did indeed have my package (and a few others they've been swearing they didn't have). My DVD was indeed in the package and it did indeed work.

And so the film rolled at 9:30 this morning and I went to find extra chairs.

Ye of little faith.

Christmas from the Far Side

If God doesn’t change, why is the Old Testament God of vengeance, wrath, and jealousy so different than the New Testament God of love, mercy, and grace?

I’m not going to pretend to know the answer; the paradox has perplexed the faithful and unfaithful for almost two thousand years. He is my layman’s attempt:

The difference between the Old Testament and the New Testament, at its heart is this character that came down to walk among us clumsy and idiotic humans. You know the story. He was born in a stable to a couple of hick Jews. He was placed in a manger; he grew up to tell confusing stories in metaphors his compatriots didn’t understand. They followed him anyway, healing the sick and passing out fish. Then things got wacky, he claimed he was the Son of God and was crucified for his blasphemy. Not that it was blasphemy.

In the Old Testament to talk to God a high priest had to cut up a couple of lambs, offer gifts for his own sins and then offer more sacrifices for the people. Whoever the lucky soul was entered once a year with bells tied to his cloak and a rope around his waist just in case he wasn’t as sinless as they had thought… how else would you retrieve a dead priest from the Holy of Holies? He washed, he fasted, he passed through the curtains so that he might even have a moment to talk to God. We were indeed sinners in the hands of an angry God.

When we were children, hopefully we had someone that loved us to look after us. There were rules. Lots of rules. Some were dos, some were don’ts but there were lots of them. No more than one coke per day, no more than two hours of television a day, you will drink your milk, you will not stand on your brother’s back, you will not order pizza when you are home alone, you will not hit your sister, and you will eat the crust of your bread. For most of us (I hope) the rules have changed a little. You still probably shouldn’t hit your sister, but you can order pizza whenever you feel like it. You don’t have to eat the crust of your bread and you certainly don’t have to buy wheat bread; you don’t have any curfew anymore. You break the rules; most of them, if not all of them… but your parents love you anyway, and perhaps… you know this better than you did before.

Something changed.

That baby that we sang about yesterday, he grew up to do some pretty weird stuff and said some weirder stuff, but as they were hanging him on the tree he entered that holy place by his own blood. He was perfect, unblemished, sane and sinless… and as he was executed for a crime he never committed he became the ransom for our kidnapped souls (Hebrews 4:14-10:39). The curtain was ripped in two from top to bottom and the mount was thrown into the sea. The temple was destroyed and raised again in three days and now we are allowed to talk to God without the mediation of a high priest because the sins that kept us from God have been forgiven.

We can talk to our parents, some better than others mind you… and the relationship is forever changed. Just as our parents didn’t really change we just see them in a different light (and they us), God didn’t change either. He sees us through the lens of Christ and that is at the heart of it all, and in the morning he will sit by our side and make us a breakfast of fish sticks, toast, and tartar sauce.

Mari Crissmas

News source...

Those of you who know me might know that I listen to quite a lot of National Public Radio. I listen on my way to work, on my way home from work, and before the electricity went off and my clock at work was reset I listened at work too. When they are playing classical music I listen to CDs, which isn't really when I'm in the car so well...

I've defended it before Mark Robinson and the Sauer parental units who seem to think it is the product of the communist party. I'm a socialist guys... do you know of any socialist radio stations? This is my primary news source. I'll read other stuff, watch the occasional world news and sometimes something will entice me to watch local news. I don't have cable.

Here is my problem. NPR is real news peppered with special interest stories. The real news for a year focused on New Orleans and Katrina evacuees. While the rest of the world moved onto the news story of the day, NPR focused on their plight. I did too, after all they were in my classes... or rather they were on my roll. Since the election season NPR has made a transition to discussing the quagmire that is Iraq and had a tremendous focus on the ISG. Every morning I wake up to hear that indeed we aren't winning the war, that we might indeed be losing it even after our key objectives have been accomplished and we have declared victory. "We aren't winnin'; we aren't losin'."

My complaint is not that it is biased, everything is biased. If you know the bias you use your brain to figure it out... my complaint is that there are many many other things going on in the world, in the nation, in my state, and in my city that I don't hear about... and as a result I'm not doing well on the NPR news quiz. I do ok, but only because I'm really good at making educated guesses. This seems a shame, since I'm not doing well on the news quiz that THEY put out.

I've also been caught off guard when the following have been referenced by my friends/coworkers: Taco Bell and e-coli, Pam Anderson & Kid Rock's split, the death of Steve Irwin, Andy Pettite going back to the Yankees... there is a hole in my life. I'll admit I wasn't more than twelve hours behind... and friends can count as news sources.

Still I aspire to be a news junkie... and I need help.
Ideas?

But it's tradition...

I'll write this on the off chance that someone that cares will read it... (hi Sam, Greg, and maybe Neal)...

For over twenty years we've had a tradition of going downtown and listening to the carolers at the bank. Every year without fail. This is how the event would typically go.

The Wrights would pick up the Dikemans in plenty of time to find parking and get to the bottom of the escalators at the Park Shops. There we would wait for the Sauers, Boisaubins and whoever else might be coming. Either the Sauers or the Boisaubins (both Thorpes) would get lost or have to turn back for something they forgot. When all were gathered we would take a picture... and then attempt to get on the right trolly. We would then proceed to Foley's for some last minute shopping while the kids sat on a bench. We'd walk to the Texas Commerce bank. Neal, Becca, Greg, Sam and I would find a balcony from which to wait for the mothers and Marcus to listen to the carolers. Our seats were reserved by a bank employee acquaintance I never met. We would proceed to the tunnels, to race back (and get lost a few times) to the Park Shops where there was a food court and a Sharper Image. When Neal turned sixteen and was permitted into the Sharper Image unescorted the rest of us were left jealous... McDonald's was of course the restaurant of choice. In the end the mother's exchanged gifts. Mom gave caramels, Cindy gave zucchini bread... Sarah gave an ornament, and Jean gave orange rolls.

Over twenty years have passed...
The parking garage is now too expensive, so we park across the street. The Park Shops are now Houston Center. The escalator no longer leaves us with a place to sit. The trolley stopped running. Foley's is now Macy's. The bank The tunnels have flooded and been totally remodeled, changing our course. We still need a map. Texas Commerce turned into Chase Bank which turned into JP Morgan Chase. The carols haven't changed. They are the same ones. There is one Christmas tree instead of two. They still seem the Hallelujah Chorus (and I still hear in my head "hallelujah its over" even though I stopped begrudging it years ago). We know our way back through the tunnels, but we still second guess each other. The McDonald's and the Sharper Image are gone and we are left with the Bargain Books and an odd little store called the Sterling Armadillo. Mom stopped making caramel and moved to healthier alternatives that require less labor... but the orange rolls still appear each Christmas morning for breakfast.

We've changed too. Andrew was born (he's now 18). Vincent was born (he's now 17). The Lavertys started coming and then the Fitts. Neal and Greg went off to college. Bec and Marcus went off to college. Marcus married Meghan. Bec married Mark. They stopped coming home early for Christmas. Neal moved to California. Bec moved to Tennessee. Greg moved to Tunis, Marcus moved to San Marcus. Now they've stopped coming home for Christmas at all.

And so there we are... I've missed it once in however many years... when I was stranded in Boston after the dorms were closed. That year I picked out Christmas Trees with the McFarland brothers and learned you really shouldn't make brownies with olive oil.

Oh... and Sam and I are still gonna watch movies on Christmas Day... though this time we won't have to settle because of democracy.

Advent 1955

Garrison Keillor reading...

The Advent wind begins to stir
With sea-like sounds in our Scotch fir,
It's dark at breakfast, dark at tea,
And in between we only see
Clouds hurrying across the sky
And rain-wet roads the wind blows dry
And branches bending to the gale
Against great skies all silver-pale.
The world seems traveling into space,
And traveling at a faster pace
Than in the leisured summer weather
When we and it sit out together,
For now we feel the world spin round
On some momentous journey bound —
Journey to what? to whom? to where?
The Advent bells call out 'Prepare,
Your world is journeying to the birth
Of God made Man for us on earth.'
And how, in fact, do we prepare
For the great day that waits us there —
The twenty-fifth day of December,
The birth of Christ? For some it means
An interchange of hunting scenes
On coloured cards. And I remember
Last year I sent out twenty yards,
Laid end to end, of Christmas cards
To people that I scarcely know —
They'd sent a card to me, and so
I had to send one back. Oh dear!
Is this a form of Christmas cheer?
Or is it, which is less surprising,
My pride gone in for advertising?
The only cards that really count
Are that extremely small amount
From real friends who keep in touch
And are not rich but love us much.
Some ways indeed are very odd
By which we hail the birth of God.
We raise the price of things in shops,
We give plain boxes fancy tops
And lines which traders cannot sell
Thus parcell'd go extremely well.
We dole out bribes we call a present
To those to whom we must be pleasant
For business reasons. Our defense is
These bribes are charged against expenses
And bring relief in Income Tax.
Enough of these unworthy cracks!
"The time draws near the birth of Christ',
A present that cannot be priced
Given two thousand years ago.
Yet if God had not given so
He still would be a distant stranger
And not the Baby in the manger.

-John Betjeman

From the boss...

I got a beer stein for Christmas, much better than the "Teachers are #1" pin I got last year.

Bumper Stickers

Maria! I just met a girl named Maria!

I have a new crush, a new crush in the pure sense of "what can they do for me?" I can assure you it isn't physical. It isn't mental. It is positively parasitic.

Background: Long story short they don't really trust teachers at school. Particularly with things like school supplies. I think they think we must be selling the pencils on the black market. Don't ask for letterhead and DON'T ask for a stapler. You are allowed one for your entire tenure no matter what child took out all the springs and joints. To attain other supplies you must ask (someone who is irritated) for access to the closet (or sneak in when it has accidentally been left open). It has become a game. I've made off with dry erase markers and 1000s of post-its (TM), I've horded colored pencils and markers. I've contemplated getting cases of white out and selling it to the prostitutes across the street.

My crush: Her name is Maria. Her primary assets include having the key to the supply closet at work. I can ask her for pencils and she gives me pencils. We got along splendidly, I liked her. She liked me... but I think there is more. Yesterday my printer ran out of ink. In the midst of grades (where I print spreadsheet after spreadsheet giving the kids "updates" of their grades I ran out of ink. I went to my new friend. I asked her for ink. "#56 please." She LET ME INTO THE CLOSET WITH her. There were more... I dared... could I have two (it is kinda like buying insurance)????? Now in the past I've either a) resorted to coming back two hours later and asking another girl for a second cartridge, but Maria was kind. She wasn't going to make me do that. I took it. It pushed her farther, for in the back of the cabinet I saw it. I saw it #57 tri color ink cartridge. I had heard rumors of such things, but had been unable to confirm its presence. There it was, ans she let me have it. I stuffed them into my coat pockets and left the office undetected, wishing not to draw attention to my new found treasures. I don't want my room broken into.... I had been colorless for 2 years; two years of living in shades of gray. But Maria, Maria... she is an angel... and now my world is brilliant Kodak color.

Calvin and His Snowmen

Teaching in a broken world

In light of the most recent post I'm aware that some of my faithful readers might think I need to find a new profession. To that I have several replies:

1) How many teachers do you have in HIGH school that were all sugar plums and moxie? I can't remember any that didn't get walked over all the time. Do you really think that that works? My kindergarten teacher friends are a different lot than I. They deal with snot, I don't. Besides it gives me an excuse to do things that are irrational "because I'm mean" can be an explanation for all my sadistic tendencies. You'd rather me take them out on them than you, right?

2) I have a small cult following of fragile young women who aren't aware of how mean I am to others. By fragile I mean some of the strongest girls I've ever met. I don't know if I could raise two kids in high school, if I could have lived as an orphan in Liberia, if I could face the world after witnessing massacres in Bosnia, and I don't know if I could get along taking care of my little brothers and sister while my parents worked three jobs. They seem to be attached to me somehow and it wouldn't be easy to walk away from them to some kind of desk job.

3) I'm in grad school for library science because I felt called to do it. Yeah that was past tense. Don't get me wrong I like it... and I don't want to just drop it because I feel kinda distant from it right now, I had a light load last semester and it didn't take much out of me. Didn't have to think much either.

4) Option #3 of many more, go to seminary. I don't want to say I feel like I'm being called into ministry because I think all of us are. Nor am I saying I want to go or what I'd do with it, but I promised I'd pray about it. Since I can't exactly come at the whole thing unbiased I'd like you all to pray too.

Welcome to the 21st Century, Kate

In the last few weeks I've joined the 21st Century - or rather I've caught up with the rest of my generation. There are some ways I'm sure I won't be joining it... I don't need OnStar as much as a key map for instance, I'm not going to swap technology for common sense.

See this story:

NPR - October 24, 2006 · Just because your automatic navigation system tells you to crash the car, you do not have to do it! A German man's navigation system told him to "turn right, now," even though he wasn't to the corner yet. He crashed into a toilet stall. Also this month, a driver encountered a "closed for construction" sign. But he chose to believe his navigation system, which showed the road was open. Nobody was injured when he crashed into a pile of sand.

But I'm not Amish either. So the new "technologies" I'm playing with:

1) MySpace - It is kind of like playing six degrees of separation. I've found a really random group of people, "because the whole world is on MySpace" but at the same time not everyone is using an e-mail address or an alias I'd recognize. Plus some of these relationship links are old and my high school and college were really big so "Mike" might be Michael Callaway but it also might be well... Michael Swartz. So you'll have to find me.

2) NETFLIX (pronounced Net Flicks) - This was spurred on by needing to find a copy of The Fourth Wiseman and having the Blockbusters near be not near me, small, and less than helpful. Besides I've got two weeks coming up where I just need to be amused... and it is cheaper than cable.

In other news despair.com has Build Your Own Calendars this year. I found a cheaper one that had already been built... so If I'm your Secret Santa you'll be the envy of everyone in the school. Cause every teacher needs one of those.

That and Dilbert as a desktop:

And don't tell me it is insulting to my students. The students that "get it" know what I'm talking about.

The best part about...

The best part about the end of the semester is the fact that the students who are going to fail have realized it. There is no point in coming to class at this point. They seem to be skipping enmasse, and they seem to think it ok to tell me that they plan to skip several days in advance.

On the other side of the equation my classes are small and hasve that "I give a shit" advantage that the others don't seem to have.

Maybe I'll make buttons.

The most recent development in the skipping saga: I have Erick 2nd period. He was there. I have his test. I also have him 3rd period, he wasn't there. 4th period he came to my class to ask for scissors. Apparently during 3rd period he went to go buy a new memory chip for his cell phone. After looking at his grades and seeing that he has a 32 he's decided to write that up as a Confederate cause... that's right folks, a 32. At least it is better than the kid that comes every day and still has a 12.7.

@ work

St. Arnold's in the news again.

Inclimate weather

The number one problem with going to school online... classes don't get cancelled for weather.