--at the self-checkout. When you type in the produce number, the lady's voice (which is not creepy) says "Weigh your...[whatever it is]," followed by "Move your...[whatever]...to the bag."
Hence the above statement after I weighed my...bananas. Somehow it makes me giggle a little bit every time...
Mar 25, 2008
Mar 23, 2008
Things I Do II...
Does anyone else get just a little bit freaked out by the automated voices found these days on, like, voice recognition software, and answering machines, and voice-feedback automated phone systems? Something about that not-quite-human voice sets me only slightly off-kilter.
I think that's probably how the Peeps talk, you know...
I think that's probably how the Peeps talk, you know...
NQR--Not Quite Right...
I don't think there's anything magical about the age of 30, but there is something in me that, sometime in the past couple years, has "crossed over." Maybe it's having my own kiddo, I dunno. I used to think of myself as "one down" to pretty much everyone. Meaning I would defer to them because I thought of myself as younger, less experienced, or less-something. My pattern was to default to their judgement on pretty much everything, whether I asked for direction/advice or not.
But these days I am more my own person, and can think of myself as equal to most people. I'm better at distinguishing between a person having more knowledge/experience/wisdom in a given area(s) of life, rather than a person being "better" than I am in general. Consequently I'm that much braver when it comes to sticking up for myself.
It might be that I've known enough people in high positions to realize that most everyone is indeed just a regular person, but it also has to do with gaining some experience of my own and finding myself in a few situations over the years where I was the expert. Truth be told, it can be a little uncomfortable knowing that I'm in charge, weaknesses and all. But the really unnerving part is realizing that everyone I've ever looked to has also had limitations and weaknesses. Kinda puts a new perspective on...a lot of things.
The one on my mind lately--which I've realized before but somehow I always try to deny it—is knowing that no matter how much experience any sort of doctor or health professional has, I am the one who knows my own body the best. I am in charge, weaknesses and all. During the years when I didn't know what was wrong with my back I was sent thru numerous tests to find whatever it is that was wrong. X-rays, bone scans, MRI's, the works; and each time the verdict was that there was nothing wrong with me beyond some common quirks that shouldn't cause as much discomfort as I was having. So then there was the underlying burden of wondering if I was making it out to be more than it was or, worse, if I was a plain old hypochondriac.
The doc who eventually diagnosed the sacral shear said it best—there’s a fundamental difference between "there's nothing wrong" and "I can't find what’s wrong." I knew something wasn't right; I just didn't know what it was. And it turns out that SI Joint Dysfunction can be very subtle—usually not detectable by any of the standard diagnostic tests. All the previous docs did what they knew to do from their experience; but it took someone who had a specific expertise to know what was going on behind my symptoms.
That’s all to say that this week it was only slightly alarming when I saw the doctor for my SI Joint Dysfunction and--after explaining what was wrong with me, and that I've been dealing with it for years, and his doing his darnedest to help me out and give me good advice--coming to the conclusion that he did not know how to fix the problem.
I was highly annoyed at first. I thought "why can't you just listen to my description and do what needs to be done!" I had to remind myself that it took many, many doctors and over 9 years before I found one who knew how to help me. I also had to remind myself that I still get pretty fearful because, while I know what's wrong and what needs to be done about it, I am unable to fix it myself. And it’s scary when you have to start the search all over again, not knowing when you’ll find yet another person who can help in this very specific way. So a lot of my annoyance was actually frustration and fear that it will never. get. fixed.
Plus I pretty much suck at explaining it in the proper terminology, so God bless him for trying as much as he did.
To my credit, I didn't defer and go home to "wait & see;" I said something to the effect of “it still doesn’t feel right.” And to his credit, he very willingly referred me out for some PT, explaining that he deals with spinal/manipulation stuff maybe a few times per day, as opposed to someone who works with it day in & day out, and will have many more things in his/her bag of tricks. I really appreciated that.
And I hope he’s right, ‘cuz this is a royal (and literal) pain in the arse…
But these days I am more my own person, and can think of myself as equal to most people. I'm better at distinguishing between a person having more knowledge/experience/wisdom in a given area(s) of life, rather than a person being "better" than I am in general. Consequently I'm that much braver when it comes to sticking up for myself.
It might be that I've known enough people in high positions to realize that most everyone is indeed just a regular person, but it also has to do with gaining some experience of my own and finding myself in a few situations over the years where I was the expert. Truth be told, it can be a little uncomfortable knowing that I'm in charge, weaknesses and all. But the really unnerving part is realizing that everyone I've ever looked to has also had limitations and weaknesses. Kinda puts a new perspective on...a lot of things.
The one on my mind lately--which I've realized before but somehow I always try to deny it—is knowing that no matter how much experience any sort of doctor or health professional has, I am the one who knows my own body the best. I am in charge, weaknesses and all. During the years when I didn't know what was wrong with my back I was sent thru numerous tests to find whatever it is that was wrong. X-rays, bone scans, MRI's, the works; and each time the verdict was that there was nothing wrong with me beyond some common quirks that shouldn't cause as much discomfort as I was having. So then there was the underlying burden of wondering if I was making it out to be more than it was or, worse, if I was a plain old hypochondriac.
The doc who eventually diagnosed the sacral shear said it best—there’s a fundamental difference between "there's nothing wrong" and "I can't find what’s wrong." I knew something wasn't right; I just didn't know what it was. And it turns out that SI Joint Dysfunction can be very subtle—usually not detectable by any of the standard diagnostic tests. All the previous docs did what they knew to do from their experience; but it took someone who had a specific expertise to know what was going on behind my symptoms.
That’s all to say that this week it was only slightly alarming when I saw the doctor for my SI Joint Dysfunction and--after explaining what was wrong with me, and that I've been dealing with it for years, and his doing his darnedest to help me out and give me good advice--coming to the conclusion that he did not know how to fix the problem.
I was highly annoyed at first. I thought "why can't you just listen to my description and do what needs to be done!" I had to remind myself that it took many, many doctors and over 9 years before I found one who knew how to help me. I also had to remind myself that I still get pretty fearful because, while I know what's wrong and what needs to be done about it, I am unable to fix it myself. And it’s scary when you have to start the search all over again, not knowing when you’ll find yet another person who can help in this very specific way. So a lot of my annoyance was actually frustration and fear that it will never. get. fixed.
Plus I pretty much suck at explaining it in the proper terminology, so God bless him for trying as much as he did.
To my credit, I didn't defer and go home to "wait & see;" I said something to the effect of “it still doesn’t feel right.” And to his credit, he very willingly referred me out for some PT, explaining that he deals with spinal/manipulation stuff maybe a few times per day, as opposed to someone who works with it day in & day out, and will have many more things in his/her bag of tricks. I really appreciated that.
And I hope he’s right, ‘cuz this is a royal (and literal) pain in the arse…
Mar 22, 2008
The Home of Jamba Juice...
...took a little jaunt up to San Luis Obispo today, aka SLO to the locals. Took in some sights (Best Buy), and stopped off for some Jamba. The Cat Daddy went with his favorite--Mango-A-Go-Go--while I tried out White Gummy Bear off the (not-so) secret menu. His Highness sampled both. We'd been trying to get him to use a straw for some time, but he'd been sandbagging us, claiming he couldn't do it. We knew better; just had to find something persuasive enough...
Sweet Revenge...
It started with these guys.
Then during storytime at the library, the special forces infiltrated...
Then during storytime at the library, the special forces infiltrated...
So I sent in my best sniper to take care of things...
The Most Recent Product of My Domesticity...
Other than some issues with the black gel, I think it turned out pretty well.
He is risen--Happy Easter everyone!
He is risen--Happy Easter everyone!
Mar 18, 2008
See? SEE??
From The Wall Street Journal (via A Singer, A Song)--
Daylight Saving Wastes Energy, Study Says
For decades, conventional wisdom has held that daylight-saving time, which begins March 9, reduces energy use. But a unique situation in Indiana provides evidence challenging that view: Springing forward may actually waste energy.
Up until two years ago, only 15 of Indiana's 92 counties set their clocks an hour ahead in the spring and an hour back in the fall. The rest stayed on standard time all year, in part because farmers resisted the prospect of having to work an extra hour in the morning dark. But many residents came to hate falling in and out of sync with businesses and residents in neighboring states and prevailed upon the Indiana Legislature to put the entire state on daylight-saving time beginning in the spring of 2006.
Indiana's change of heart gave University of California-Santa Barbara economics professor Matthew Kotchen and Ph.D. student Laura Grant a unique way to see how the time shift affects energy use. Using more than seven million monthly meter readings from Duke Energy Corp., covering nearly all the households in southern Indiana for three years, they were able to compare energy consumption before and after counties began observing daylight-saving time. Readings from counties that had already adopted daylight-saving time provided a control group that helped them to adjust for changes in weather from one year to the next.
Their finding: Having the entire state switch to daylight-saving time each year, rather than stay on standard time, costs Indiana households an additional $8.6 million in electricity bills. They conclude that the reduced cost of lighting in afternoons during daylight-saving time is more than offset by the higher air-conditioning costs on hot afternoons and increased heating costs on cool
mornings."I've never had a paper with such a clear and unambiguous finding as this," says Mr. Kotchen, who presented the paper at a National Bureau of Economic Research conference this month. A 2007 study by economists Hendrik Wolff and Ryan Kellogg of the temporary extension of daylight-saving in two Australian territories for the 2000 Summer Olympics also suggested the clock change increases energy use.
That isn't what Benjamin Franklin would have expected. In 1784, he observed what an "immense sum! that the city of Paris might save every year, by the economy of using sunshine instead of candles." (Mr. Franklin didn't propose setting clocks forward, instead he satirically suggested levying a tax on window shutters, ringing church bells at sunrise and, if that didn't work, firing cannons down the street in order to rouse Parisians out of their beds earlier.)
During the first and second world wars, the U.S. temporarily enacted daylight-saving time as an energy-saving measure. Over time, most states began changing their clocks, and in response to the 1973 oil shock, the country extended daylight-saving time in 1974 and 1975. Analyzing that time shift, a 1975 report by the U.S. Department of Transportation concluded that the change reduced electricity demand by 1% in March and April. But in a 1976 report to Congress evaluating that analysis, the National Bureau of Standards concluded that there were no significant energy savings.
Still, the Transportation Department study stuck. Speaking before the House of Representatives in 2002, Indiana Rep. Julia Carson said that under daylight-saving time, Indiana families would save "over $7 million annually in electricity rates alone."
In 2005, Reps. Edward J. Markey of Massachusetts and Fred Upton of Michigan drafted legislation that would extend daylight-saving time nationwide. Congress approved the amendment, which called for clocks to be sprung forward three weeks earlier in the spring and one week later in the fall. The change went into effect last year.
The energy-savings numbers often cited by lawmakers and others come from research conducted in the 1970s. Yet a key difference between now and the '70s -- or, for that matter, Ben Franklin's time -- is the prevalence of air conditioning.
"In an inland state like Indiana, it gets hot in the summer," says Steve Gustafsen, a lawyer in New Albany, Ind., who filed a suit in 2000 in an effort to get his county to abandon daylight-saving time. "Daylight saving means running the air conditioner more."
That was borne out by the study by Mr. Kotchen and Ms. Grant. Their research showed that while an extra hour of daylight in the evenings may mean less electricity is spent on lights, it also means that houses are warmer in the summer when people come home from work. Conversely, during daylight-saving time's cooler months, people may crank up the thermostats more in the morning.
Still, the case on daylight-saving time isn't closed.
"My read on this study is that it's one data point that gives us something to think about," says Richard Stevie, an economist with Duke Energy, of Mr. Kotchen and Ms. Grant's research. "I think
that additional research really needs to be done." And UCLA economist Matthew Kahn points out that even if the evidence on Indiana is airtight, the effect of daylight-saving time on other states might be different -- a point that Mr. Markey makes as well.
"One study of the situation in Indiana cannot accurately asses the impact of [daylight-saving time] changes across the nation, especially when it does not include more northern, colder regions," the congressman notes.There may also be social benefits to daylight-saving time that weren't covered in the research. When the extension of daylight-saving time was proposed by Mr. Markey, he cited studies that noted "less crime, fewer traffic fatalities, more recreation time and increased economic activity" with the extra sunlight in the evening.
In Indiana, the debate goes on. "The simpler the issue, the more people have opinions about it," says Indiana State Rep. Scott Reske, who voted against the switch to daylight-saving time. In the aftermath of the time shift, "a lot of people who hated it now love it, and a lot of people who loved it now hate it," he says. A separate debate over whether the state should be on Central or Eastern Time rages on.
Mar 17, 2008
Mar 16, 2008
Church Hunting--The Second (Faith Is a Verb)...
I still hate church hunting.
But today was fantastic, as far as church hunting goes. It was downright fun, even. I’m pretty sure this is because I let the Cat Daddy do the research. It’s becoming more & more apparent that in addition to hating church hunting, I’m also not very good at it. I had Googled some local churches, but everything I came up with was Baptist. Very Baptist (not that there’s anything wrong with that). And overrun by old people (again, nothing personal to the old people—I just don’t want to be one of 5 people under 30 in any given church. Oh wait--under 35). I was feeling pretty low by mid-week, and contemplating the benefit of going to all this effort for five measly months. Frankly, I’m pretty sure the benefit will be one of those things that you don’t perceive at the time. Or maybe ever.
But at this point I still think it's worthwhile, so I was describing all of this to the Cat Daddy, and he decided to take a turn online & see what he could find for church listings. And he came up with a small list of options that looked promising or, at the very least, didn’t suck.
So for this week we chose the local Nazarene church. It turns out they run the local Christian hard rock radio station, so we figured at the very least they’re open to edginess. Their website stressed that they are a Purpose Driven Church, and had key words and phrases such as “come as you are” (ie, “we won’t take your jeans as a sign of disrespect”) and the pastor was wearing a Hawaiian shirt in his photo (ie, “I love California and Rick Warren”). Personally, the clincher for me was where the site stated, “You owe it to yourself…” to give them a try. So by all means we gave them a try.
Of course we started sizing up the place as soon as we drove into the parking lot. Right off, the Cat Daddy simply said “mass appeal.” We saw quite a mix of ages and appearances. Some dressed up, some dressed down, young people, and old people, and people in the middle. It was a good-sized church, but not huge. Big enough that they referred to their property as a campus, and that we new folks didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.
First we dropped His Highness off at the nursery, where I was pleased to find that they do diapers. We then hit the welcome table to peruse the pamphlets and paraphernalia before finding our seats with time to spare. I tried to convey a general air of “I belong here,” so as to avoid any sort of greeter-onslaught.
The music was upbeat and contemporary. Not as edgy as the radio station, but still pretty darn peppy. I would say on the order of our home church in AZ (possibly one of the best churches ever). People were free to groove as the Spirit led, and there was a corporate propensity for clapping. No brass section this time, but a good-sized band, which the pastor was part of--something I know is common with a lot of pastors, but which I haven’t seen a lot of in my experiences.
And dude, they had a theme song. As soon as the music picked up to kick off the service, everyone stood and clapped in perfect timing and, even more remarkably, sang fully and in unison. You just knew that they sing this same song as the opener every week. I don’t remember the words, but it was more or less an opening prayer set to music, with the church’s name inserted at points. Just to clarify precisely where God should show up. Then a couple of upbeat worship tunes (neither of which we knew, but that's OK) before the pastor launched into the message.
They were in the middle of a series leading up to Easter Sunday, so today’s message involved the whole Palm Sunday thing. I believe the main idea was Jesus as the Son of God. Which is good, because we believe he is, so we were in good company. The pastor had a conversational tone, with bits of humor inserted throughout—very pleasant to listen to.
And let me say first that overall the message was just fine. No red flags or heresies—grace-filled, Jesus-centered; all the things that you’d want in a sermon or message.
Cynic that I am, however, I managed to make a few snide remarks along the way. At one point the pastor was emphasizing the importance of not just “having” faith, but living it out in one’s daily life. Which I get. The way he conveyed this, however, was to say “Faith is a verb,” at which point I looked quizzically at the Cat Daddy and said, “No it’s not.” We briefly debated the grammatical nature of the word “faith” (quietly, since we were aware of folks sitting in front of and behind us, and the pews were stacked fairly close together), and I made the point that you don’t say “I was out faithing today” or “I need to go faith that.” He replied “Boy, he really faithed that one up.” From there things could only go downhill, so I let it rest and tried to be less cynical and more teachable.
But honestly. ”Faith is a verb.” Not at all.
Up to this point I was relieved at how comfortable I felt. Definitely a good sign. When the pastor finished his message--this was where the unavoidably-hokey-to-outsiders took place. This week it was the special music/performance art. There were two music presentations, each including a subtle yet contemplative, almost-dramatic action of some sort by one or more of the musicians. The lady in the first presentation had such a velvety-smooth midrange voice that I could’ve sworn she was Karen Carpenter reincarnated (I do love the Carpenters). At any rate, the whole thing was very heartfelt, and the congregation seemed to enjoy it immensely.
The second presentation coincided with the offering collection, and I appreciated the fact that they had a variety of folks serving as ushers. To me, ushering is a low-risk ministry, a great way to let people plug in to a ministry without getting overwhelmed right off (and a way for the church leaders to get to know their people better--good for all). There were men, ladies, and even young punk kids wearing hooded sweatshirts.
Somewhere in there was a genuine altar call. Several people did come forward to receive Christ, and it got me to wondering about things like altar calls. Do you think that churches have ringers, to make people feel more comfortable about going up? I’m not saying I think any of these guys actually were ringers…it just occurred to me as a potentially-useful strategy. The regular members might know who were the ringers and who weren’t, but the visitors and newbies probably wouldn’t, and anyway there could be a whole ringer ministry, where volunteer ringers rotate responsibilities to minimize the chances of discovery. Anyway.
As for the offertory singer, she was very…emotive, and was given a standing ovation by a select few before the worship band returned to the stage amid the “turn and greet your neighbor” for two more worship songs which were in fact quite fun. So fun that after the second one I came dangerously close to giving the Lord a clap. Finally they had the closing theme song (Yes! Theme song! Different than the opening one!) and benediction. Then we flew out under the radar, picked up His Highness who was having oh so much fun in the ball pit (trying to eat the balls), and were on our way.
The Cat Daddy asked what I thought and I said “safe & comfortable.” He asked what on earth I meant because apparently when I say “safe,” it may or may not be a good thing. When it came down to it, I echoed his first impression—mass appeal. And I will admit I got pretty enthusiastic as the service went on (up until the special music/performance art). I felt comfortable & welcomed. Encouraged by the music and the message. People were friendly but gave us our space and were not overly forward, and didn’t seem to assume we were heathens, which I can get defensive about (No, really! I know Jesus! Listen to my buzzwords!).
We were reading in the bulletin that one of this church’s stated missions/goals is to build their local membership, and they certainly have all the right strategies in place for building numbers. I'm not a fan of building numbers for building numbers' sake, but to be fair it wasn't their only goal, but rather part of several goals within their overall mission statement. And anyway, there are good and bad points to any approach. The good part of this is what I mentioned at first—they have a mix of all ages & stages, something I appreciate more as I get older and less cool. The downfalls include the risk of having a range of fun programs with no real depth, and a tendency to gloss over the harder things of Christianity for the sake of visitor appeal. Neither of which can be gauged by one visit.
We came to the same conclusion as last week: we could come here and feel fairly comfortable (moreso, even, than with the 'Squares), but would still like to see what other options exist. We again lamented our short stay here, that it will not be long enough to really get plugged in anywhere. I had a brainstorm to make it my goal to go to a different church every week while we’re here—a fantastic potential for church stories—but we shall see what happens. Church hopping will likely get old quickly. But you never know…
But today was fantastic, as far as church hunting goes. It was downright fun, even. I’m pretty sure this is because I let the Cat Daddy do the research. It’s becoming more & more apparent that in addition to hating church hunting, I’m also not very good at it. I had Googled some local churches, but everything I came up with was Baptist. Very Baptist (not that there’s anything wrong with that). And overrun by old people (again, nothing personal to the old people—I just don’t want to be one of 5 people under 30 in any given church. Oh wait--under 35). I was feeling pretty low by mid-week, and contemplating the benefit of going to all this effort for five measly months. Frankly, I’m pretty sure the benefit will be one of those things that you don’t perceive at the time. Or maybe ever.
But at this point I still think it's worthwhile, so I was describing all of this to the Cat Daddy, and he decided to take a turn online & see what he could find for church listings. And he came up with a small list of options that looked promising or, at the very least, didn’t suck.
So for this week we chose the local Nazarene church. It turns out they run the local Christian hard rock radio station, so we figured at the very least they’re open to edginess. Their website stressed that they are a Purpose Driven Church, and had key words and phrases such as “come as you are” (ie, “we won’t take your jeans as a sign of disrespect”) and the pastor was wearing a Hawaiian shirt in his photo (ie, “I love California and Rick Warren”). Personally, the clincher for me was where the site stated, “You owe it to yourself…” to give them a try. So by all means we gave them a try.
Of course we started sizing up the place as soon as we drove into the parking lot. Right off, the Cat Daddy simply said “mass appeal.” We saw quite a mix of ages and appearances. Some dressed up, some dressed down, young people, and old people, and people in the middle. It was a good-sized church, but not huge. Big enough that they referred to their property as a campus, and that we new folks didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.
First we dropped His Highness off at the nursery, where I was pleased to find that they do diapers. We then hit the welcome table to peruse the pamphlets and paraphernalia before finding our seats with time to spare. I tried to convey a general air of “I belong here,” so as to avoid any sort of greeter-onslaught.
The music was upbeat and contemporary. Not as edgy as the radio station, but still pretty darn peppy. I would say on the order of our home church in AZ (possibly one of the best churches ever). People were free to groove as the Spirit led, and there was a corporate propensity for clapping. No brass section this time, but a good-sized band, which the pastor was part of--something I know is common with a lot of pastors, but which I haven’t seen a lot of in my experiences.
And dude, they had a theme song. As soon as the music picked up to kick off the service, everyone stood and clapped in perfect timing and, even more remarkably, sang fully and in unison. You just knew that they sing this same song as the opener every week. I don’t remember the words, but it was more or less an opening prayer set to music, with the church’s name inserted at points. Just to clarify precisely where God should show up. Then a couple of upbeat worship tunes (neither of which we knew, but that's OK) before the pastor launched into the message.
They were in the middle of a series leading up to Easter Sunday, so today’s message involved the whole Palm Sunday thing. I believe the main idea was Jesus as the Son of God. Which is good, because we believe he is, so we were in good company. The pastor had a conversational tone, with bits of humor inserted throughout—very pleasant to listen to.
And let me say first that overall the message was just fine. No red flags or heresies—grace-filled, Jesus-centered; all the things that you’d want in a sermon or message.
Cynic that I am, however, I managed to make a few snide remarks along the way. At one point the pastor was emphasizing the importance of not just “having” faith, but living it out in one’s daily life. Which I get. The way he conveyed this, however, was to say “Faith is a verb,” at which point I looked quizzically at the Cat Daddy and said, “No it’s not.” We briefly debated the grammatical nature of the word “faith” (quietly, since we were aware of folks sitting in front of and behind us, and the pews were stacked fairly close together), and I made the point that you don’t say “I was out faithing today” or “I need to go faith that.” He replied “Boy, he really faithed that one up.” From there things could only go downhill, so I let it rest and tried to be less cynical and more teachable.
But honestly. ”Faith is a verb.” Not at all.
Up to this point I was relieved at how comfortable I felt. Definitely a good sign. When the pastor finished his message--this was where the unavoidably-hokey-to-outsiders took place. This week it was the special music/performance art. There were two music presentations, each including a subtle yet contemplative, almost-dramatic action of some sort by one or more of the musicians. The lady in the first presentation had such a velvety-smooth midrange voice that I could’ve sworn she was Karen Carpenter reincarnated (I do love the Carpenters). At any rate, the whole thing was very heartfelt, and the congregation seemed to enjoy it immensely.
The second presentation coincided with the offering collection, and I appreciated the fact that they had a variety of folks serving as ushers. To me, ushering is a low-risk ministry, a great way to let people plug in to a ministry without getting overwhelmed right off (and a way for the church leaders to get to know their people better--good for all). There were men, ladies, and even young punk kids wearing hooded sweatshirts.
Somewhere in there was a genuine altar call. Several people did come forward to receive Christ, and it got me to wondering about things like altar calls. Do you think that churches have ringers, to make people feel more comfortable about going up? I’m not saying I think any of these guys actually were ringers…it just occurred to me as a potentially-useful strategy. The regular members might know who were the ringers and who weren’t, but the visitors and newbies probably wouldn’t, and anyway there could be a whole ringer ministry, where volunteer ringers rotate responsibilities to minimize the chances of discovery. Anyway.
As for the offertory singer, she was very…emotive, and was given a standing ovation by a select few before the worship band returned to the stage amid the “turn and greet your neighbor” for two more worship songs which were in fact quite fun. So fun that after the second one I came dangerously close to giving the Lord a clap. Finally they had the closing theme song (Yes! Theme song! Different than the opening one!) and benediction. Then we flew out under the radar, picked up His Highness who was having oh so much fun in the ball pit (trying to eat the balls), and were on our way.
The Cat Daddy asked what I thought and I said “safe & comfortable.” He asked what on earth I meant because apparently when I say “safe,” it may or may not be a good thing. When it came down to it, I echoed his first impression—mass appeal. And I will admit I got pretty enthusiastic as the service went on (up until the special music/performance art). I felt comfortable & welcomed. Encouraged by the music and the message. People were friendly but gave us our space and were not overly forward, and didn’t seem to assume we were heathens, which I can get defensive about (No, really! I know Jesus! Listen to my buzzwords!).
We were reading in the bulletin that one of this church’s stated missions/goals is to build their local membership, and they certainly have all the right strategies in place for building numbers. I'm not a fan of building numbers for building numbers' sake, but to be fair it wasn't their only goal, but rather part of several goals within their overall mission statement. And anyway, there are good and bad points to any approach. The good part of this is what I mentioned at first—they have a mix of all ages & stages, something I appreciate more as I get older and less cool. The downfalls include the risk of having a range of fun programs with no real depth, and a tendency to gloss over the harder things of Christianity for the sake of visitor appeal. Neither of which can be gauged by one visit.
We came to the same conclusion as last week: we could come here and feel fairly comfortable (moreso, even, than with the 'Squares), but would still like to see what other options exist. We again lamented our short stay here, that it will not be long enough to really get plugged in anywhere. I had a brainstorm to make it my goal to go to a different church every week while we’re here—a fantastic potential for church stories—but we shall see what happens. Church hopping will likely get old quickly. But you never know…
Church Hunting--Pastor T's Techniques...
I consulted Pastor T (from our most recent church) for some church hunting techniques. I was telling him about our experiences at the local Foursquare church, since he comes from a Foursquare background--and went to a Foursquare school, even--and would be able to offer unparalleled insight, except for perhaps Mrs T, who went to the same school. It's where they met.
I found his response to be most enlightening, especially when he reminded me about a fantastic reference I've got at my disposal, if only I can find which box it's hiding in.
So anyway what follows is his response, nearly verbatim--
Write that down, kids...
I found his response to be most enlightening, especially when he reminded me about a fantastic reference I've got at my disposal, if only I can find which box it's hiding in.
So anyway what follows is his response, nearly verbatim--
Foursquare makes me laugh. Really. That kind of light, almost-a-giggle-but-not-'cause-I'm-a-guy-and-guys-don't-giggle type of laugh...no, seriously, they're a good group of folks, but the "worship leader with hair that was formed from a plastic-injection mold" is actually quite typical within the denomination (I mean, let's be honest, the word "square" is built right in) and quite possibly a prerequisite for the position in general. I should know better, having been schooled in their awesome methodologies but I fear that I was sleeping on the day that the "creating a worship environment through strategic hair styles" lecture was given. Not that I can say much, since
my head right now resembles Tigger due to the youth group raising well past their fundraising goal. (Craig K. and I took one for the team) Anyway, our worship is kick-a$$, so they can
go Brillocream away and it shall not faze me.
By the way, feel free to use the "square" joke if you go back to visit, or in light conversation in general. For example, visit the church right down the road from them and remark, "Yeah,
we checked out [insert foursquare church name here] last week, and they seemed to be an ok bunch of 'Squares. Hey, do you serve the good donuts here? In my expert opinion, the quality of donut served tells a lot about what your church feels about visitors. That church we were at last week had weak donuts...which is why we're here with you today instead." Then nod knowingly, with an "insider" mannerism, as if you are sharing the greatest principle to all church growth and
outreach strategy while chomping into another donut.
The amazing thing is that not only will they laugh with you at the derogatory joke made at the expense of their "Christian Cousins" down the road, they will actually give consideration to your analysis of all their hospitality refreshment and do one of two things:
1) A successful church will try to steer you away from any "low-quality" baked goods and into the bookstore where you can find the latest copy of whatever new fad inspirational book has hit the market, thus reestablishing their position as the church in the know, and creating in you, the visitor, a sense that your spiritual welfare is in very well-kept, knowledgeable hands.
2) A struggling church will immediately explain that all items in the hospitality area are part of a missions outreach fundraising program and that though the store-bought goods may be cheap and low-quality, there is reassurance in remembering that it is still better than what "they" have and therefore we should all be grateful that we don't live in "that" part of the world.
Ahhhh...church.
I would recommend bringing out the Field Guide and brushing up on some of the finer points of visiting churches. Go in expecting the best, but when things take a turn, you'll be prepared for each encounter and will know how to escape.
Write that down, kids...
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