amidst a sea of incoherancy

As the title suggests, Bjorn is not here yet. Due date was last Friday. If Heather hasn't gone into labor by this Wednesday evening, she'll be admitted and induced on Thursday morning. We're both hoping for a natural labor, but I think Heather will take whatever she can get at this point.

I wonder if Jesus was thinking about his mom, or one of his sisters, or some friend who may have been pregnant when he said, "No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father." - Matt24:36

Anyway, that's how it feels waiting for little baby H to pop into our lives. And I suppose that's how the next 25 years or so of my life will feel...hoping, waiting, curious to see what happens, trying to stand back and let the little guy do his thing without too much interference.

Due date is Friday, but we (and by "we", I mean Heather) haven't experienced any real pre-labor or anything at this point. Maybe we've got more time than the doctor's schedule shows.

A nurse told me that walking and spicy food help speed things along. So, last night I took Heather out for some spicy pizza. (Gretchen, we went to Fat Lorenzo's for the first time. We thought it was an awesome representation of Non-Chicago, MidWest style Pizza. Can't wait to hear what you think about it....) So we sprinkled the spicy flakes on the pie (one of my most exciting acheivements was assisting Heather develop a taste for the spicy). Afterwards, we both spent time on the treadmill--me trying to slow down the pear shape effect that happens to all glutons who eat too much pizza and Heather trying to knock out the baby. Obviously, he didn't come. We'll have to try again today

Anyway, I'll be posting pics as soon as the little guy let me.

I had the weirdest dream last night. I dreamed that I was the opening act for Rebecca St. James who was on a world tour. (Just the fact that I dreamed I was an opening act for Rebecca St. James is pretty funny.) Anyway, Rebecca’s tour was titled “The Chastity Tour.” She was using it as a platform to preach on the benefits of saving oneself for marriage, etc.

At first, everything happened as you might expect-- pray before show, do show, preach chastity, go to next show, repeat. However, as the tour went on night after night, I noticed that Rebecca’s clothes were getting more and more provocative. The more provocative her clothes got, the more people showed up at her concerts. It got to the point where she was preaching about chastity to humongous stadiums while only wearing a live Boa Constrictor (I think Britney Spears wore one once). The media started talking about how edgy Rebecca St. James was getting and before you know it, she was boosted from a B-List Christian artist to an A-List mainstream artist who filled the biggest arenas available and then preached chastity while wearing nothing but lives snakes.

I kept thinking to myself, something is wrong here. How can you tell people to be chaste while wearing nothing but a boa constrictor and doing cover shoots for Maxim? But that’s when things got even dicier. Rebecca had her stage re-designed. She said she wanted it to look like she was singing between a pair of hands that were raised to God in praise.

When the stage was finished, Rebecca covered it in a big cloth and brought all of us out for the unveiling. She unveiled the raised hands and we all looked at them, scratching our heads. They weren’t hands at all. They were these huge boobs. We were all like, “Dude, those aren’t hands…they’re big boobs.” Rebecca kept saying they weren’t. “Whatever guys (in her Auzzie accent) these are beautiful hands raised in praise of our God.”…but they were seriously NOT hands raised in praise of God. They didn’t look one bit like hands. They were boobs. I should know because I was the opening act who had to play between them every night.

The new stage made Rebecca VERY popular with the dance crowd and she made a dance video wearing the Boa Constrictor. I can’t exactly remember the lyrics, but they were something like, “God gave me my hotness so I’m gonna strut my stuff. I’m gonna follow Jesus cuz I’m just so dang hot.” Something like that. I remember a few churches added it to their worship setlists.

Northwestern Bookstores had no problem putting up big cardboard displays of Rebecca’s “Hands praising God,” but for some reason they took offense at the words “Strut my stuff.” They said it “sounded prideful.” At this point they stopped selling Rebecca;s CDs and demanded that she apologize for her pride.

It was about this point when my alarm clock went off. I wish I had been able to finish the dream and see what happened. Anyway, it was a pretty funny dream.

Long story about Heather and my anniversary dinner--

I had been planning on taking Heather to this Scandinavian restaurant for our anniversary dinner, only to find that the place closed down a little while ago because of the bad economy. I was suddenly at a loss, until I remembered walking past this place called Pierre's bistro a couple years ago and Heather had mentioned that it looked cute. I looked their phone number up and made a reservation without knowing anything about the place.

Heather and I got there and noticed that they were advertising frog legs on a chalk board outside the entrance. Uh oh...Sounds French. This place could be really expensive. Did we end up at the kind of place where you don't really want to eat anything on the menu and the portions are tiny and priced the same as a used car?

Once inside, we noticed it was quite small, one waiter and someone in the kitchen. Heather looked at me questioningly.I decided that we had come this far...may as well finish. We sat down and couldn't read much on the menu because it was all in French. This was also one of those "Gulp" moments. Maybe he writes the menu in French so he can stick frog legs and raw snails in everything and get away with it?

We each ordered some mysterious French thing from the waiter (who was very friendly and nice). My dish sort of sounded like it would have seafood and rice in it. Heather's dish sounded like it would have some kind of French pasta.

The waiter brought out some bread...we tasted it and it was some of the best bread I'd ever had. Maybe it was made with frog legs? Then the waiter brought out this baked brie cheese thing. It was AWESOME! So far everything was edible and yummy...that was a good sign! When our food came, the portions were humongous (another good sign!).

I started eating mine and it was delicious, except I noticed there was no rice. So I went to the waiter and said, "I might be missing something here, because I don't speak French, but isn't my dish supposed to have rice in it?" The waiter said, "You have no RICE? But that is the main ingredient!" He went into the kitchen and after some verbal exchange, promptly came running out to my table, grabbed my dish as if it were some kind of disease and brought it back to the kitchen.

It was at this point that we discovered Pierre's Bistro is actually run by a guy named Pierre and he actually is French. The waiter came back with my new dish and said, "Pierre is really freaking out back there. He is so embarrassed that he forgot the rice. He is not going to charge you for this dish." We told the waiter that it was fine and that we were really enjoying ourselves.

A few minutes later, Pierre made his entrance. He was about 50 or 55, gruff and VERY French. Evidently he moved here in his 20's and started his restaurant. He was as humiliated as I've ever seen a guy to be. I said, "Pierre, your food is delicious!." He looked at me like I was crazy and said (In a French accent), "But of course! I know this! I made the food! But I must be getting too old. I can't believe I forgot the rice. I am so sorry about he rice. I think I am going crazy. I have no idea how I could ever do such a thing. This has NEVER NEVER NEVER happened before! I am so humiliated."

We tried to console our new French friend, but he was pretty far gone in his misery. He began talking about his family, his kids (3 girls, ages 19, 8 and 7--their names tattooed on his arm) but he kept coming back to the rice and how shamed he was. You'd honestly think his world was ending.

Finally, I said, "Pierre, I know what it is like to take pride in your work. I know this must be really hard for you. I hope time heals these wounds." He seemed to accept this response (He had not accepted any of our other condolences). Finally, he left--but then he came back with glasses of Port--"For dessert. On the house, of course."

Anyway, it was one of the fanciest, most delicious (no frog legs or raw snails in our food) AND less expensive than we expected meals we've ever had. In the end we spent about $38 total because Pierre made sure we weren't charged for my meal...not bad for a place that puts frog legs on the chalk board outside the entrance!

I was thinking about the "right said fred" tune when I titled this one. Anyway, here are some pics of the magic the redhead pulled in our basement this weekend! Smooches (Especially to Mr. Shearer).

I'm really dorking out here, but...just look at that drywall goodness! Oh yes, that thing that looks like the deal that killed Jesus is actually a T of drywall power that Dan made to help hold up the ceiling. He could be seen posing like he-man, holding this T and calling out, "By the power of drywall!"

It really is hard to explain how exciting this picture is to me. So I won't. 

Dear Redhead Dan, I salute you!

This is not an easy, or light hearted, or particularly safe blog post. If you're not up for gloom and doom, I suggest skipping today's entry.

http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/the-passion-of-david-bazan/Content?oid=1169181

(Note- For some reason, you have to copy and paste this link into your browser for it to work correctly.)

The above link is to an article about a musician named David Bazan.  He used to be the front man for a fantastic band called Pedro The Lion. Pedro was an indie sort of band with a strong, Christian influence. Their lyrics were incredibly thought provoking and their recording quality was also pretty inspiring.

The linked article talks about how David's faith has evolved (or perhaps devolved) into agnosticism. Reading this article really stirs up a lot in me. I resonate with David's feelings and thoughts on faith. Mostly, I resonate with the isolation that questioning one's faith brings about.

When you question your faith, you get two basic responses. 1. You get the concerned person who hasn't been cursed with the questions you struggle with and hence, offers advice that misses the mark. 2. You get the person who says, "That's exactly why I don't do religion anymore." But, the person isn't struggling with fear of damnation, alienation, disenfranchisement, etc. the way you do. Ultimately, you begin to find that simply ignoring the questions brings peace, albeit a temporary peace. If you ignore the questions, you can go about living life that isn't painful, that isn't alienating. You are safe again. You don't cause concern in people.

But while ignoring questions of faith feels safe, I don't think it is a healthy way to live. For what it's worth, even the Bible talks about working out our salvation with fear and trembling (Phillipeans 2:12). I find myself working out my salvation with fear and trembling a lot. (I've assumed in the past that I would eventually come to a point where the working out and the fear and trembling would stop...but this hasn't happened for me.) Working out your salvation with fear and trembling sucks. But sometimes I'm plagued with questions like, "What exactly is salvation, or what exactly is true faith, or how do I know my understanding of these things is the correct understanding?"

As a group, we Christians have developed many pre-made answers that we apply like salve to these types of questions. Sometimes they feel slightly hollow though. I think it just goes to prove that questioning Christianity isn't easy. Questioning Christianity doesn't feel safe to those of us raised in cultures of faith. When you question the very thing that is supposed to give you peace of salvation, it's super-scary. Nevertheless, some of us are cursed with an inate drive to question and question and question. As one such person I can say three things with certainty.

1. Questioning is genuinely tough

2. I was very encouraged to read about another guy doing the same thing I've been doing

3. God knew I'd be here, doing this very thing. That, at least, gives some peace.

1. Dig a hole

2. Do some drillin

3. Saw a hole in the side of your house and then freak out because you just sawed a hole in the side of your house!

4. Look creepy while wearing eye, mouth and ear protection and push the bricks out of the side of your house. Do some more freaking out because you just pushed the bricks out of the side of your house!

5. Seal that hole up as best you can.

6. Build and install a window frame and then breathe a huge sigh of relief when some friends who know what they are doing come over to help put the window in the frame. I would be so screwed if it wasn't for James and Dan stopping by to check in on things. Thank you guys!!!

8. Enjoy the natural light that will now fill your basement! (Of course, this picture was taken at 10:30pm, so not too much natural light here.

Well, that was my weekend!

Oh, except for the fact that all electrical will be connected tonight AND I got an electric movie screen off craig's list to install in the ceiling.