Amanda Caldwell

Apostasy music mix

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 09:01:00 +0000

You'll notice a new MixPod on the sidebar (copying Courtney's idea). I thought it would be fun or enlightening or intriguing or something to round up all the songs I could think of that had to do with doubt and disbelief. Here is my mix for an apostate:

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

Some of the songs are intended ironically — even if I like them. You'll notice some of the videos are over the top, too. Most of the songs I just like. You'll notice a lot of Nichole Nordeman from before she got peppy. I don't begrudge anyone their peppiness; I just can't put it in an apostasy mix.

There were other songs I wanted to include but MixPod didn't have access to them. Basically, they have to have been uploaded to YouTube, as I understand it.

There were other Over The Rhine songs, for instance. The version of "I Radio Heaven" is a cover. Here are the lyrics, and here's the real deal:

I Radio Heaven by Over The Rhine

More Over The Rhine music on iLike

And these lines from "When I Go" have haunted me for years:

except for this confession
that is poised on my lips
i'm not letting go of God
i'm just losing my grip

When I Go by Over The Rhine

More Over The Rhine music on iLike

Remember Kim Hill? How about the song "Satisfied"?

Satisfied by Kim Hill

More Kim Hill music on iLike

I've been wanting to do a slow-mo cover of that song. Don't ask me why. All right, you can ask me why. It's because I'm too lazy to play it that rockin'. That's correct. I think it is entirely fair to say that I am less rockin' than Kim Hill.

Another one swirling through my head is "Summer Solstice" by Susan Ashton:

Summer Solstice by Susan Ashton

More Susan Ashton music on iLike

I'm using the term "apostasy" ironically, too. Maybe "agnosticism" is closer to the mark. Maybe just "seeking." Meh. Whatever. I'm feeling unable or unwilling to label myself right now, so I'll seek refuge in joke labels.

Anyone have some good songs to add to the music mix? I was trying to think of some secular, searching-type songs, too. Maybe Leonard Cohen or similar.

Feel free to send them my way. Because it's become the thing, don't you know, to listen to music intentionally during Lent.

Wordless Wednesday: Time to grow

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 07:20:00 +0000

Time to garden, Mama!

Guess who bought himself a new watering can!

Corin studies the seed packets: Are these part-shade or full-sun?

Corin helps with the labeling. I certainly couldn't handle it on my own.

Look! Look!

More at Wordless Wednesday and 5 Minutes for Mom

Checkpoint @ Catapult Magazine

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 01:04:00 +0000

Click over to Catapult Magazine to read my latest poem: "Checkpoint."

Kirstin kindly compared it to John Donne's Holy Sonnet 14:

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

And Steve said it reminded him of his song "Break Me":

I'll take either comparison. I'm just glad to have written a poem again! I'm pretty pleased with it, in that giddiness that only writing poetry can bring, and I think it fits well with my Lenten theme.

Read the whole Borders & Fences issue here.

Photo copyright John Gaps III/AP

The stinker's the winker

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 19:40:00 +0000

Yesterday, when Steve was out running errands, Corin was sitting on my lap when he passed gas.

"Corin! Did you just toot?" I asked in German (impressed much?).

"No! Apa tooted."

I thought that was pretty clever of him, to blame it on an absent — yet admittedly gaseous — family member.

Note that he didn't bother to blame it on Luna. Why do cats never fart? They must, right? But somehow do it unobserved. It's not like their poop doesn't stink. Must be one of the quirks of an all-meat diet.

The post title comes from my older brother's misremembering of the phrase "The smeller's the feller." I've often thought that "he who smelt it dealt it" was quite an unfair line of reasoning. Many is the time that someone is more offended by the smell who did not deal it than the other way around, and very often the dealer is too sheepish or sly to admit to the deed. I think the whole phrase started when a chronic offender wanted to divert suspicion and blame.

Are you glad I did a whole blog post on farts?

You're welcome.

Photo copyright Torli Roberts via stock.xchng

Wordless Wednesday: Spring in expectancy

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 07:48:00 +0000

A friend has graciously given me the gift of gardening space, when I thought I never would have dirt to dig in again. Time to get out my seed starter set-up and play! And, hey, maybe I'll even get the rest of my gardening pictures from last year up on www.SteveandAmanda.com, which I'd been avoiding because the thought of revisiting my gardening happiness was too depressing when having a garden was out of reach.

I can smell the dirt even now...

More at Wordless Wednesday and 5 Minutes for Mom

When did I become a Vulcan?

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 13:06:00 +0000

I've had run-ins in the past with people who are too reasonable. People who are so dang logical they make me want to hit them with a wet fish.

See, that's not logical. I'm not one of them.

Or am I?

At some point, theologically speaking, I became hyper-rational. It kind of pisses me off.

I used to believe in ghosts. I used to believe that there could be auras and soothsayers and ouija boards and real psychics (albeit operating under evil powers). I've had several encounters with what I supposed were demons. I've heard God's voice speak to me.

No, I'm not ready to discount that last one yet. I'll get to that story later.

But the others? I started becoming ... well, pragmatic.

There are no such things as ghosts, your mother tells you. And you repeat it enough times, and you grow up, and you realize some day: You know, she was right. There are no such things as ghosts.

Or fairies. Or Santa Claus. Or unicorns. (I used to believe in unicorns.)

It started leaching over. Because, see, I have people in my life who like to dissect other religions. I won't name names, or religions. Suffice it to say, the people are close to me, and the religions are close to my own, making it all the more delicious to mock them (the religions, not the people — although I guess we all do that, too).

You can only hear — no, I should make this personal, because apparently not everyone has this experience. I can only hear another belief system picked apart for so long before I say, "Hey, hold on a minute — in what ways does my religion look just as foolish and just as unbelievable from the outside?"

And you know? It looks pretty dang freaky when you really think about it.

I started wondering why I believe at all.

Let's take prayer as just one example. I can kind of, sort of understand the idea of repeating prayers out loud, even though in my old evangelical Protestant way I would dismiss that as the babblings of pagans. Because repeating them out loud might be something like a magic spell, where a divine but invisible being might be listening in on occasion.

But saying the prayers in your head? I was doing it one day and thought: Isn't this what schizophrenic people do? I mean, not to be pejorative against anybody, but isn't it the definition of crazy to believe that someone is hearing your thoughts?

There's just so much suddenly — or is it gradually? — I don't even know at this point — that just started seeming ludicrous to me. I didn't want to stop believing; I just felt reason and logic boring in on me and making me open my eyes to how outsiders must see me.

I did — and I do — go back and forth, though. Some days I feel sure there is some God; some days I feel sure it's the God I'm most familiar with, while others I think it's maybe more of a distant, mystic force who couldn't care less about eavesdropping on my thoughts. (Is God reading my blog, for instance? Now there's a thought! Maybe he'll leave a comment?)

Every time I read the Gospels or think about Jesus, I feel like, Gosh, I hope this is true, because I love this guy. He's so fricking awesome. I would hate for Jesus not to be, you know, Jesus. For him to just be a crazy nutjob religious wacko who snowed people, like — well, I promised not to attack other religions here. But like others you and I could both name.

Like, could everyone's accounts, all throughout the Bible, just all be so much BS? It's hard to believe, in some respect, but then in others — people believe a lot of BS. That's documented. So is mass hysteria, and mass delusions. It happens.

Does it make more sense to believe that we go to a mystical place after we die, or just — not? Does it make more sense to believe there's an invisible person listening to our thoughts, or does it make more sense not to believe that? Does it make sense to say, well, God is infinite so he can listen to everyone's thoughts all at once, kind of the way Santa can deliver all the presents to billions of kids in one night? Only, you know, he doesn't answer everyone's prayers, just some of them, but we can reason that away, too, because we're always making excuses for him, again in much the same way Santa doesn't bring all the boys and girls (even the good ones) the gifts they wanted. Doesn't it all sound like something little children believe, and then we grow out of it?

It's seemed like sort of an Occam's razor situation, where the easiest explanation is probably the correct one. I don't want it to be, but I'm struggling.

Here's what I'd like, if anyone can point me to it. I'm reading, right now, a few books about faith in God, the very basic questions. I'd welcome any others, also any blogs, interviews, people, stories — whatever you can point me to. Basically, I want to hear from/about:

atheists who converted to Christianity (or also, I guess, to any religion) — I mean true atheists, rational people, not people who just didn't really care about religion one way or the other but then fell back more avidly into the religion of their youth (like CS Lewis, I'm thinking, doesn't really count as an atheist, but I can get into that later) — these people can be historical or contemporary
people who were Christians, fell away, and were convinced back into the fold — maybe that's the same as the above, but with the exception that they didn't start out as atheists but had kind of a double conversion — it's the category I hope to be in in the future?
Christians who are very reasonable and sane and have thought through all these arguments and have rational answers (I can't tell you how many conversion/explanation stories I read that ended with "And I realized I had to just believe it was true!" or "I decided it just felt true!" — if that works for someone, sweet monkeys for them, but come on! I'm a Vulcan here!)

I went searching for such examples when I first was confronting these doubts head on, and all I stumbled into were account after account of people leaving the faith. It was ... well, unhelpful in terms of coming back to faith, since that's what I was looking for, although it did help me articulate some of the doubts I had. It also gave me some answers to questions I thought all atheists must have, like, isn't life meaningless if you don't believe in God/judgment/heaven, or what about morality if there's no judge? I'm not even sure I completely agree with the atheists' answers on those questions, but it showed me that they've thought them through, at least.

But, anyway, please, if you do know of any good stories / books / blogs, etc. I should check out, let me know. I'm not posting that as a challenge, some sort of "I bet you can't find these! ha ha" but as a plea.

I have to get to sleep, since it's — oh, my — 5:05 a.m. All right, off to bed, even though a kitty has just snuggled next to me. Sorry, Luna!

I want to apologize if this series of posts ends up being disjointed and disorganized. If I waited until I had all my thoughts in perfect order, I would never write it. I need the chance to think through it all, and apparently I refuse unless I have some pressure, so writing this down in public is my pressure!

Ellen break: These photos just aren't right

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 09:10:00 +0000

Wordless Wednesday: Poor baby

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 07:56:00 +0000

This has been my view the past week: one sad, sick baby on my lap, so close I can't focus the camera.

Fortunately, he's on the mend!

Unfortunately, he gave it to me.

More at Wordless Wednesday and 5 Minutes for Mom

Wrestling with God

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 04:33:00 +0000

"Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you." — Matthew 7:7, NLT

That reminds me, I need to round up all the tax statements that have come in the mail and ended up scattered who knows where.

But I digress...

It is Lent. I skipped last year, and this year I decided to add instead of give up. In some sense, I guess I'm giving up some free time and some free thought, because what I'm adding is an expectation that I will think about God during these forty days. I'm not making it legalistic — so many chapters to read per day or so many minutes in prayer. I just want to aim for something.

Because what I've had for the past couple years, and why the previous Lent was a no-go, is a whole lot of nothing.

I've been talking with Steve about my (lack of) faith since Corin was about seven months old. I broached the subject with fear and trembling and a strong sense of depression and hopelessness, because, I don't know — would I have kicked him out if he had approached me with doubt during my days of faith? I hope I wouldn't be unreasonable, but I would have been shaken, absolutely.

Instead of rejecting me, Steve has wanted to dialogue. And I have not.

I know some of the reasons why. One is that talking about a faith I don't have anymore is a wee bit boring to me. The subject doesn't consume me as it once did. Another reason is that I don't want to finalize my descent into unbelief, pound the last nail into the coffin. If I articulate what I (don't) believe, will I convince myself once and for all? It frightens me.

Yes, bored and frightened. Does that make sense?

But for Lent, maybe I can make an attempt. Lay out some of my thoughts, concerns, stabs in the dark, and see what the response is. I haven't talked about this with anyone but Steve, because no one else so far has understood. At all. I feel very alone in this — wanting to believe, but just — not.

Other people I know have never not believed. I used to be one of those happily uncomprehending souls. Others have a very firm belief that's rocked by a crisis, so they start doubting portions of their faith (eg, God's goodness) but not the very faith itself (ie, God's existence).

Then there are the cool kids. The atheists. The ones who aren't afraid not to believe, because they just don't. Maybe they never have. Maybe they feel they've grown up. It means nothing to them — culturally, historically, socially, emotionally — to hold onto a faith that shaped them throughout their life until now.

Then there's me. The cheese standing alone, I guess.

If there are more of you out there, please do let me know. And if you fit into one of the other groups, well, I (think I) want to hear from you. Hear your answers to my questions, your thoughts and critiques on my reasoning.

Off we go, then, into the terrifying wasteland of honesty.

Photo copyright aeminphilly on flickr

Happy Valentine's Day to my writing partner

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 05:09:00 +0000

I know we said we weren't getting each other anything for Valentine's Day, but I can't help it that you already got me something.

Space to write.

Sure, it wasn't for today in particular, but today in particular is a good example, because you are upstairs with our very noisy, un-thought-inspiring 2-year-old, and I am downstairs, tip-typing away on my computer, in peace.

I would never have won NaNoWriMo again (or the first time) without you. I would never have written so many articles and posts and poems without your giving me that time to go into my head, to live temporarily in another world and enjoy writing once more.

Thank you for your faithfulness, your patience, your ability to amuse a toddler, your inventiveness, your generosity, and your love. Your love.

All the writing I've done for the past two and a half years? It's all thanks to you.

I love you, Steve. Happy Valentine's Day.

Wordless Wednesday: Tots room at PacSci

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 03:44:00 +0000

Little boy playing

Big boy playing

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Small church, big church @ Catapult Magazine

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 02:36:00 +0000

Click over to Catapult Magazine to read my latest article: "Small church, big church: A search for just right."

I’ve had a see-sawing relationship with the size of our churches, with all the vertigo and shakiness that metaphor suggests.
...
I suspect small churches are withering, and that big churches are superficial. But if a medium church stays medium, then isn’t it stagnating?

Read the whole Bigger Is... issue here.

Wordless Wednesday: Growing like a tree

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 08:53:00 +0000

Christmas 2007

Christmas 2009

More at Wordless Wednesday and 5 Minutes for Mom

Loving as serving

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 07:29:00 +0000

Making a new batch of Muddy Buddies every time I run out,
       without judgment or query

Cleaning up our own muddy buddy
       without disdain or distaste

Hiding under a blanket
for hours
and
taking a 2-year-old
to the zoo

Fetching me a drink
from the fridge
and
a toothbrush
for the kid

Cleaning the place
for your mother-in-law
and
hanging up
my shirts

Knowing my love language
       even when I don't

And even though it's not your language,
       speaking it fluently.

Wordless Wednesday: Clouds are our friends

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 02:10:00 +0000

I've spent a long day getting soaked in the rain. I wanted to remember happier clouds.

More at Wordless Wednesday and 5 Minutes for Mom

2009 retrospective

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 02:58:00 +0000

Steve has both inspired me and quieted me. I loved his year in review article and thought maybe I should write my own. But his life is my life, and he had done his review so comprehensively and charmingly that I figured I could just point you on over there.

And so I am.

I thought I'd go for looking back at the decade, since Steve covered 2009 and I've enjoyed hearing other people's stories of where they were ten years ago. I would normally be writing my year-end summary and New Year's resolutions in my journal, but I had a brief glimpse of it the other day in some random box, and then it got swallowed by the general chaos of our lives again, so here I journal instead, in front of God and everybody.

So where was I in 1999?

I had been married a year and a half.

I lived in an apartment in Northwest Indiana.

We worked from home, Steve for The Bible League and I in a half-hearted attempt to be a freelance editor. I hadn't yet written a novel, but I was making money doing something English degree-ish.

My personal writing was more haphazard and just whatever I felt like writing at the time.

I had two gerbils, named after a goofy college in-joke.

I still have that shower curtain and those towels. We had asked for the towels on our wedding registry, but no one bought them, so we went out and bought them ourselves. Unlike some of our other impulsive, post-wedding purchases, I still greatly enjoy both of these.

On New Year's Eve 1999, we went to a communion service at Crossroads Church, which met at a middle school in those days.

We had hoped to ring in the new year taking communion, but the service was at 5 or 6, to allow people to attend parties or put kids to bed. So we went and bought our own wine and bread and had our own service at midnight. First steps toward a home church?
.
I had an unfortunate haircut.

It was supposed to be a glamorous 1920s bob. But when you let Great Cuts loose on your hair, you get what you pay for. I should also point out that glamorous 1920s bangs work better when you don't have seventeen cowlicks.

Steve had small hair and big glasses and wore oversized clothes.

I was 23 and a half years old.

I had no fashion sense.

I had dyed my hair blond for the first time that year.

I didn't really know what to do with it.

I still had hope that someday soon I would outgrow my ugly duckling phase and become a beautiful twenty-something swan. I think we probably peaked around 28 in terms of any coolness we hoped to achieve, and I expect it's downhill from here on out. And, yet, I hope I at least am more confident and put-together now than I was a decade ago, if not youthfully beautiful and stunningly sophisticated, goals I never did manage.

I was among the first bloggers, even though I didn't yet know the term. I would link to my earliest blogs, but most are defunct. SteveandAmanda.com in its current incarnation remains, though it has changed much since then.

We had written a Christmas letter telling everyone how much nothing had changed in the past year.

I was still considering seminary.

I had visited my new home but could only hope and dream and plan to go through with moving there.

Things that are different now: new place, new child, new cat, new career, new church, new writing, new self.

Sometimes I feel like I haven't accomplished much, and the like the years post-college have just flown by, but when I look at it spread out like this, I can see how ten years have passed and how much has filled them.

I am so much more grown up. That has to count for something, right? Look how mushy and unformed I was a decade ago. Cute and naive and adorable and hopeless. I know who I am now. I know what I want for the most part, even if I'm not sure how to get there, or always want to put the work in.

Contradictorily, having a child and constraints on my time has made me a more prolific writer, and more determined to use the time I have.

Case in point, Corin is coming down the stairs, singing off-key, and I am signing off. Happy looking back to you and to me, and happy looking forward.

What will the next decade bring?

Wordless Wednesday: First real Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 20:47:00 +0000

The first one in which he truly understood the appeal of ... "Open...presents!"

Glad to have taught him the true meaning of Christmas: What's in it for me?

But who can resist spoiling that sweet thing?

More at Wordless Wednesday and 5 Minutes for Mom

I'm so happy to (pretend to) own my (bank-loaned) home!

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 04:13:00 +0000

I meant to post this back during all our house-buying hoopla and searched for it on various humor sites but couldn't find it. Well, hooray for cleaning out my hard drive, because I found it saved as a PDF in an obscure folder.

I bring you, via SatireWire:

RECORD 75 MILLION AMERICANS NOW PRETENDING THEY OWN THEIR OWN HOMES

Showing no ill effects from a weak economy, housing numbers released by the National Association of Realtors today showed that a record 75 million Americans are now participating in the mass self-delusion that they, and not their banks, actually own their homes.

...

After putting 20 percent down on a $235,000 house yesterday morning, Minneapolis pediatric nurse Stephanie Doogan officially became the 75 millionth American to take part in the widely accepted fantasy.

"Ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to (deceive myself into believing I could) be a homeowner," said Doogan, 35. "Well, look at me now! Me, little Stephanie Doogan, I actually have a place I can call 100 percent (minus 80 percent) my own!"
...
"There's nothing like taking a walk around your (bank-owned) house, then going outside and kneeling down in your (bank-owned) lawn and grabbing a handful of (the bank's) dirt to make you realize how precious (their) land is," said 28-year-old Matt Jackson....
Added Devon Knight, who recently thinks he purchased a condominium in Baltimore's Inner Harbor: "When I was renting an apartment, if the furnace went out, I had to get the landlord to fix it. But now, if the furnace goes out, I have to fix it!... hold on, I'm losing the illusion here... why is that good again?"

"Equity," said Jay Harrington, Knight's mortgage broker at First Union. "Just remember, you have equity. And next to the right of every single American (major corporation) to have a say in who gets elected, that's the most sacred thing you can (pretend you) have."

Yes, kids, remember: Equity.

Two Piece @ Catapult Magazine

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 17:00:00 +0000

published in Catapult Magazine

original 3.18.2007

This poem has the titular line for my book of poetry — Swimming in the Wild, Wide Ocean — and is very special to me. It's a poem foretelling the future, and so far I think I did a pretty good job as a prophetess.

Check out the full Catapult Magazine Birth Stories issue, online for Christmas Day!

Merry Christmas to you all!

Let it be to me according to your word

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 06:27:00 +0000

We went to the Christmas Eve service at church tonight, and unlike the last couple times, we kept our unruly child in the service instead of the cry room-slash-penalty box — because it was being used by tots younger and rowdier even than he.

So I got to hear the Scripture, and the message, and interestingly enough, I had a thought. An actual thought! Amid the whining of my child to go downstairs and play with toys ("Downstairs! Toys!" in urgent whispers all throughout the service, so that someone sitting near us moved farther away), I had this thought imparted to me.

"And while they were there, the time came for her baby to be born. She gave birth to her first child, a son. She wrapped him snugly in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no lodging available for them." (Luke 2:6-7, NLT)

I know, right?

Oh, wait, you've read that before? All right, here's my thought, then.

This story has been dramatized so often that it's burned into our heads as a mini-tragedy. Joseph, with Mary on the donkey behind him, groaning but beatific (of course), is pounding on inn doors, demanding that someone let them in, that someone give them room for his FRICKING PREGNANT-TO-BURSTING WIFE — come ON, people, can't you see she's in LABOR? Throw us a bone, here.

And Joseph is upset that all he can provide for his bride is a filthy stable, but Mary is calm (of course) and goes along with it.

But Luke's account is actually all we have, just those few bare words. She laid him in a manger, because there was no other room for them.

There's no drama at all. There might be some implied. Or there might not.

There's no record of Mary saying, "Oh, for Pete's sake" (because, of course, Peter couldn't be sworn by yet), "this is the worst birthing experience EVER."

There's no record of her feeling entitled and then disappointed, of her complaining and whining ("Downstairs! Toys!") and missing the wonder of the birth for her hurt feelings. I would have been. I would strongly have felt, I don't deserve this! I don't deserve to be treated in this crude manner. Why can't these people see that I, in labor, have more of a call to a warm bed than they do?

I would have been royally pissed off, my friends. I might have taken it out on Joseph. I might have thrown a few swears at God. I would definitely have stomped and stormed and huffed on past all the people in the inn, thankyouverymuch, who were ignoring my plight.

But there's no record of any such hissy fits. Mary just matter-of-factly lays Jesus where she can.

So I don't know how she actually felt, but I have this sense that if it had been important to include a drama in the story, it would have been included. So I'm thinking maybe there was no drama.

Maybe they both just accepted: Hey, we didn't make reservations. Good thing there's this nook they can tuck us into, and a little space for the baby.

And then I imagine Jesus, Lord of the fricking universe, accepting this, too, without protest. He doesn't insist on a gold-inlayed throne-cradle. He doesn't ask for the latest and greatest, soon to be recalled, from Babies R Us. He lies there in the manger, and he likes it. Because he came to be king of the poor, king of the outcast, king of those people who think nothing of giving birth in a lousy, poo-filled stall.

That is our God. That is Emmanuel, born to us this night.

"Though he was God,
he did not think of equality with God
as something to cling to.
Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
he took the humble position of a slave
and was born as a human being.
...

Therefore, God elevated him to the place of highest honor
and gave him the name above all other names,
... to the glory of God the Father."

(Philippians 2:6-11, NLT)

Merry Christmas Eve.

Wordless Wednesday: Christmas past

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 11:19:00 +0000

One of these fine young things is my husband

So is one of these

Our first tree

Closely guarded family cream cheese dip recipe

Not as closely guarded cracker recipe

The pictures got better when Corin — and a new camera to capture said Corin — arrived on the scene:

More at Wordless Wednesday and 5 Minutes for Mom

If you have to explain the joke...

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 16:32:00 +0000

Enjoy the surreality that is the comments to Dilbert cartoons.

via Dilbert.com

Wordless Wednesday: Baby gone camping

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 22:26:00 +0000

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A poetry book makes a great Christmas gift! (hint, hint)

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 01:32:00 +0000

You know what would be perfect to receive or give for Christmas? That's right, my lovelies! A poetry book.

Might I make a couple suggestions?

There's Swimming in the Wild, Wide Ocean, Seasons of Verse: 1989-2009, a collection of poetry by Amanda Caldwell (hey, that's me!):

"Swim free from me / from this pool out into the / wild, wide ocean." These collected works span twenty years of Amanda Caldwell's poetry, from the tasks of school to the allures of nature, from the joy of married love to the grief of loss, from the first steps of parenthood to the rocky journey of faith. Arranged by season, the poems bring the reader full circle through a representative year of blessings, challenges, and transitions.

Buy it here at CreateSpace or here through Amazon. Shipping for a single item is cheaper through CreateSpace, but slower. If you want it to arrive in time for Christmas, opt for Amazon and free, holiday-guaranteed Super Saver Shipping if you order by Dec. 17. Here are all the Christmas ordering deadlines for Amazon. You can have books sent to yourself or to a gift address.

Amazon will also allow you to look inside the book for a sneak peek.

Another even lovelier volume is Courtney Cyr's Reflections on the Journey, which combines her poetry of healing and faith with her gorgeous macrophotography of nature.

Reflections on the Journey is a collection of poetry and photography by artist Courtney Cyr. While the pictures capture the beauty of nature across the changing seasons, the poems reflect the artist's own journey to heal, change, and understand her place in this life. Includes 37 full-color photographs and 16 original poems.

You can click on Preview from the book's page on Lulu.com and, you know, preview it. It's really astonishingly beautiful and would be such a meaningful gift for: poetry lovers, nature lovers, beloved mothers, artistic types, people with strong faith, people with weak faith, people going through seasons of healing, and people who need to go through a season of healing.

Priority Shipping on Lulu.com will get it to you in time for Christmas joy and is not too expensive (I know because I just bought myself a few to give!), so go for it.

ETA: Here's the link to buy Reflections on the Journey on Amazon! See Courtney's comment for shipping info.

Wordless Wednesday: The next Pollock

noreply@blogger.com (Amanda L. Caldwell) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 22:04:00 +0000

One of Corin's marker masterpieces from when he used to actually draw. His game now is to "sign his name" all day, so I'll have to grab some pictures of that next!

More at Wordless Wednesday and 5 Minutes for Mom