The Conduct of the Service

In which our hero speaks in the late evening, concerning the things of his morning....


This morning, as is my joyous custom, I went to church.

Big surprise, right?

This week, Kantor is gone and thus it was necessary for me to take up the duties normally performed by the choir; that is, the chanting of the Introit, Gradual, and Alleluia. I sat in the choir loft and performed my duties in their due order.

However, herein lies the rub.
I am having serious voice trouble. I don't know what caused it, but during a rehearsal last week I felt something odd in my voice, and it has been hit and miss ever since. My voice teacher chalked it up to fatigue and stress, and, with hope, it will recover after a brief respite. If not, I will have to visit an ENT specialist and figure out what is wrong.
Either way, it may mean a bit of a change in tack concerning how and when I use my voice.

But, I digress--as usual-- for I was talking about Christ and the Church....

I was able to serve in my duties as cantor, but that was it. I had to refrain from speaking the liturgy, or singing the hymns. I was effectively mute for the entirety of the early and late services. Which is really a shame, the hymns were generally excellent today.

I had one serious bonus to my morning this morning. Because I was acting as cantor, I was in the choir loft with my God-Brother, Pendragon. Pendragon is a little guy with Down Syndrome. He doesn't talk and he communicates mostly by sign-language. And today, we spent the service together in silence.

Silent, but confessing.

Neither of us could speak the liturgy, however, as the Service progressed we went through the  rubrics. When the congregation said, "The Lord be with you" we opened our hands with the blessing. We bowed for the Sanctus, genuflected for the Creed, and crossed ourselves for the Gospel. Pendragon would chime in by saying, "Amen" in sign and I would open his hymnal to the hymns so we could read along.

And this made me reflect, as I often have, on the orderly, repeated, structured, physically active conduct of the Service. I could not speak, but I could participate in the ceremonies which I have learned and have become a part of my understanding and memory. But even more than for me, these things matter for little kids, especially little ones like Pendragon. From the youngest age they can learn to participate, to discipline their bodies in God's sanctuary, and to recognize the significance of what is going on. Then, as they grow older they learn the significance of those things that they have always had.

I have a friend who told me that that most beautiful confession they had ever witnessed had been the spontaneous, heartfelt prayer of little child asking for protection for his family.

The most beautiful confession I have ever seen, was a five-year-old with Down Syndrome, beckoning me to join him at the rail to kneel and confess...

Thanks for reading.

Escape

In which our hero gets away from it all....


On certain satellite radio services, there is a particular station which plays schmaltzy, jazz-lounge-ish music. The station alternated announcers and each one had a different manner in which they delivered the primary tagline. All of them over delivered it and consequentially sounded absurd doing so.

Apart from the fact that the music was insipid and the announcers unbelievable, what they were proposing was ridiculous. You are listening to satellite radio, which almost necessarily means driving, which, in my mind, is the absolute most polar opposite thing from 'getting away from it all.' Driving is death, and panic, and fire, and burglars, and demons, and madmen, and thieves, and charlatans, and scoundrels, and villains......

{This section of the manuscript has been removed by the NSA to preserve the life-force and sanity of the general populace}

.... it's just wretched.


So then, the purpose of this spiel.

This weekend, I got away from it all. I have been having a terrible time getting acclimated to being at school; acclimating to not spending time with my bros; not being in control of my own schedule; not getting to spend all day with my niece when she was here. I feel like I don't have time, even though I am on top of my studies, and am really faring better than fair. I love the work. I love my music. So, why the stress and lack of restiveness?

Je ne sais pas.

Whatever it is; I got away. I had homework that needed to be done, sure. But homework can wait for the lonesome hours. I didn't have a plan, sure. It was all impromptu, the only plan being that friends were in town, and I was going to spend every second I could in their incomparable society. I put the hazards and care of my life away and immersed myself in the mutual consolation of the brethren.

And there were stories for the telling, and roads to be run. There was trudging through trees, and foolishness in fields. We gandered at greenery and milled in modalities. We spoke, or were silent. Cried out, or said nothing at all. We posed for portraiture and laughed til it hurt. We talked of everything, and nothing, of cabbages, and even of kings; discourse in dialectics of didactics of demeanor and distraction. Words were exchanged, at cost or gain (and non cared the more which for.)

A day marked by the sheer unbridled happiness of a soul and mind at rest. Sure there was thinking, there might have even been some level of worry at times.

But what are such things, when one is among his friends?

Thanks for reading.

Retreating To Victory

In which our hero, classically, begins with "Once upon a time"....

So then, once upon a time, in an ancient land of bogs and buildings, there was a great gathering of brilliant and wonderful people. These people, labeled "Lutheran homeschoolers," are a singular breed; diverse in personality, original in conversation, and having gifts and interests that vary as much as their locations of origin. It was a gathering of minds for what was labeled a retreat of the family (an accurate label indeed).

The week was filled by the constant companionship of the Otter and his Doppleganger, Nimagist. This pair, glorious in Leaguing, magnificent in scheming, and possessed of a predisposition towards deep conversation, were excellent company and have beds under this roof any time that they should choose to claim them. A singular pair of gents. Along with Capt. von Corgi, we spent the week gallivanting and carrying on, (in the young Lutheran manner, i.e. regular church attendance and discussion of theological mores mingled with a healthy dose of Spiderman; i.e. "the Lutheran manner," minus beer.)

Speaking of regular church attendance, I love attending the Lord's service with a huge group of people who know how to sing harmony. Hearing ostinattos ringing through the arches of the sanctuary, tenor and alto lines being filled in where they seldom are, and hearing other people singing bass with me... Fun stuff. Daily communion and prayer with a massive convocation of my church family. And, to boot, the glory of serving as acolyte, not only with my blood brother, but with my other brothers in Christ. For three days--the length of the retreat--we had prayer offices and communion. Three glorious days.

Which, if you hadn't guessed, is the segue into the next paragraph... but I digress.

-Addendum- The party, kind-of, started on Monday with the unofficially-official kick-off party at Crazy Tony's. (Pseudonyms used to protect the innocent, or the guilty. Not that I'm officially acknowledging culpability in anything.)

The first day was a Tuesday, a thoroughly unremarkable day of the week according to most weeks, but glorious for the sake of circumstance. The morning was spent with Capt. von Corgi, preparing for guests to arrive at the church and in the family home, preparing for the retreat and impending guests at home, the Family de Violin and the aforementioned duo. These preparations are fairly well typified by that often spoken, many times heard saying concerning a certain kind of poultry that has suffered capital truncation. But Tuesday progressed in a surprisingly nonviolent manner, filled with educative and interesting plenaries and sectionals, and crowned with a game-night and potluck, which turned into more of an "everyone about your socializing and fraternization and leave the adults to their beers" night.

Wednesday was a busy day. It began early and ran late, spanning the spectrum from prayer in the morning, to dancing till the cows came home. That day, I led a book discussion concerning sheep and fads; later, even that very same day, I taught a sectional on the transition from homeschooling to college, assisted by the Doppleganger: Nimagist; which mostly consisted of talking about sheeps and fads. There was Vespers that day; and a dinner that day, served by the Ragin' Cajun, a man of vision, whose food knows no bounds of culinary resplendence. That evening there was dancing, hosted and provisioned by the Squirrel, another example of a talented Lutheran person. I love dancing, I'm not very good, but the longer it's going the less I care about that. The evening wrapped up with an ill-advised night swim in the 60-degree pool, instigated by the Generalissimo, and a long, deep conversation with the Dopplegangers.

Wait for it, I know it occurred to somebody. "Dancing then swimming in freezing water? weren't you sore?"

Oh yes.

Thursday morning began with pain, soreness inexpressible except by the very groanings of the Spirit.

But, once more, I digress. For most people, Thursday began with Matins, but I was too much of a pansy to overcome tiredness and soreness to attend. I showed up in time for the rest of the day's events to begin. There was a sectional, taught by the Rt. Rev. Seminarist. The topic of his sectional was, "Law and Gospel in [thatmusical/bookwhicheverybodylovesandwhichImayormaynotcurrentlybein-thefrenchone]." A very enjoyable topic. After the sectional, we all went to Mass. After Mass we went to harass Capt. von Corgi at his workplace, and then to the Farmers of Legumes and we went for a walk. We had a  spectacular time, but I did then leave lamentably early for a brush-up rehearsal for [thatmusicalwhicheverybodyloves -thefrenchone].

And that was it. The retreat was over. However, it was Friday, and there was still comradery of the Homeschooled Lutheran variety to be found. A small group of said people had remained behind to attend a performance of [thatmusicalwhicheverybodyloves -thefrenchone], and we all spent the day together. The assembled parties were, Myself, the Squirrel, the Dopplegangers: Nimagist and Otter, the Farmers of Legumes, Ms. Donau, and the Lady of Hippo. The good Capt. von Corgi was about his day's work once more at the Sandwich parlor of James-Johannes, from whence he did, in due time, join us. That evening, many of them attended the aforementioned production and a good time was had by all discussing it.

But alas, as with all things this fairy tale did come to an end--for woe of woes-- came Saturday, the day appointed for the Doppleganger: Nimagist, the Lady of Hippo, the Squirrel, and Ms. Donau, should leave to return to their home country, the city of Directionalcurve (and the Squirrel to the northern reaches, of which names I shall not speak). There was much weeping, and tears shed all around. Gifts of farewell, in the form of carafes filled with coffee for the road, were presented. Oaths of pilgrimage were vowed, and we bid a farewell to friends.

And here sit I, too many days after the fact, finally sitting down to record my version of events for posterity, and that only because I mentioned it in passing to Ms. Donau, who was good enough to hold me to my own plans. It was a good time, a time of fellowship, grace, and thanksgiving for the blessings I have received. Not the least of which blessings are my church, my family (both blood and church), for food, and for friendship so often taken for granted. As I have met more and more people and grown to know them, I have learned the value of a true friend, not just a fun person to be with, but a brother-in-arms against the devil, the world, and my own sinful nature. I am fortunate to have an abundance of just such.

Nope, not quite done, but hold your horses it'll all be over with soon. And not only in the cosmic sense....

This week reminded me, as these things always do, of how central my church life is to me. These people, my people, my church-family, are as close and dear to me as many of my extended family. And I love my extended family; that is no belittling of them. The mutual consolation of the brethren was quite visible and tangible amongst those who were gathered.

Sigh.

Nope, not finished... I will make an end when I am finished.

Capt. von Corgi took off this week to visit self same friends. They sojourned in a massive expedition to the far sands and the great inland sea. I did not realize I would be able to go, and thus I was left at home, the Mama having left for the East to visit the She-wolf and her adorable little Hellian, my niece. The Generalissimo was also with me, however, he worked at the Maul from the morn until eve on all but the last day of von Corgi's absence. I was so lonely, I went out and slew a zucchini dragon and returned with it and prepared many a cookie. Aside from that I did lounged, except for doing laundry, and called Von Corgi to complain to him, and anyone who would listen, about my plight of loneliness.

Now, Capt. von Corgi has returned, and existence is almost back to the holding pattern. Life continues much as it always has, full of its comings and goings. Otter has long since returned to the Academie de Bawl State, the Mama will return soon, and the run of [thatmusicalwhicheverybodyloves -thefrenchone] is on its final weekend. School will start soon. Winter is coming and we'd best be ready.

And I think that this shall be for sufficiency. I have vented my thoughts, even though I knew not what to write. I have bored you to tears and now you are reading this and realizing I am drawing out the end as much as possible just to see if you'll keep reading....

Congratulations, you made it.

Thanks for reading.

By the way, remember, if you are feeling good about yourself for humoring me and reading all of this, stop it! you've just gone and ruined that whole good work! Tsk tsk.

Sigh. Well, thanks anyway.... I guess. I hope you enjoyed it.

This Week With Oscy

In which our hero smack-talks at video games....


This week we have Oscy: Those of mutual acquaintance will know to whom I refer.
Needless to say he is a good friend and an excellent smack-talker. He is visiting this week to help us break-in the new HD tv.

I love watching him and my little brother play MW: II together; it's funny stuff. They sit and communicate strategies to each other, or smack-talking each other depending on how things are going.

The itinerary for Oscy's stay has been as follows....
Day one: We took Oscy home with us after Wednesday Divine Service; we then proceeded to fritter away the rest of the afternoon playing "ESV: Skyrim" and chatting about the game and the previous entries in the series; we enjoyed a wonderful meal provided by the grace of God through the agency of his servant, teh Mama; after dinner, we carried on with the playing of "Skyrim", staying up much later than is entirely wholesome.

Day two--thus far--: The day started for the three of us with another Divine Service, after which we stayed at church to drink coffee and chat for an hour; we then went home and spent most of the day, you guessed it, playing video games; we took a hiatus from the gaming and attended our churches Thursday night Divine Service -aren't we pious- and when we came back we watched "The King's Speech" a very good movie.
As of right now,  even as I write this, they are attempting great feats of video gaming prowess.

Neither of them has dared the other to eat anything gross yet, but it's coming.

Ah, I love having Oscy over.

The Mostest Bestest Mama

Earlier today, during coffee after Lauds, the topic of the 'generation gap' came up. The one who presented the topic did not believe in it's existence; he didn't experience it with his children and he doesn't remember it as a child. I agreed that it does not naturally occur, but rather it is the product of the industrial schooling system. On our own, we want to be our parents--at least I do--we want to be smart, we want to solve problems, we want to know things and know how to get things done.

However, if you drop a child in the midst of his childish peers all it takes is one child complaining about his parents saying that they aren't cool or just in general being discontent, after that it snowballs; peer pressure kicks in and everybody jumps on the generation gap bandwagon. Children who never have thought that the rules of their parents were unjust are convinced otherwise by their peers. And so, having established this disrespect for the authority of their parents, they go on to perhaps have their own children, but *they* know better than their parents did, *they* are going to be *good* parents and not be so strict.

In many ways this disrespect is encouraged by the schools and pop culture. Advertizing appeals to it all the time. The schools encourage it every time that they contradict a child's parents. Creationism vs. evolution; disagreements of political ideology; the constant narrative of the power and wisdom of the government; all of these things contribute to a lack of faith in the wisdom and efficacy of one's own progenitors.

Now, with that in mind, I get to the point of this blog post.

It is with profound and humbling honor that I acknowledge this most auspicious of days. This prestigious natal day of one who is very likely the coolest, wisest, most awesomest, kick-buttest, wonderfullest, goshdarnedbestest mamas in the whole wide world, nay, in the universe.


Happy Birthday Mama!
That's all.