Territorial Bloggings

I’ve been meaning to post this for a while now, but I’ve just been slack. Thanks to IndianaJane, I’ve now been properly motivated…

This photo was taken on Apr 20, 2003, at the apex of the number of dogs in the family – 5 Boston Terriers & 2 Pugs!

Oliver & Ruby belong to big sis, and were 12 wks & 1 yr respectively. Lucy & Molly (depending on who you ask, the “pug sisters” or the “demon pugs”) belong to Jenny (big sis’s oldest & my number 1 goddaughter), and were also 12 wks & 1yr respectively. Clancy belongs to my parents, and was 5 y/o. Bwanna & Hammie are the Territorial Bostons, and were 13 yrs & 1 yr respectively.

Bostons are the coolest little dogs/fur-people, and have been a staple in my family for over 40 years. At some point I plan on doing a more thorough write-up of the Piper Family BT’s (building off of a web page that I did years ago). But for now, this will have to suffice.

-ghp

I’m back. And you didn’t even realize I was gone, did you?

We (the Territorial Family) spent the long weekend visiting my parents at the ancestral home — the Territorial Incubator, if you will…

It’s always an interesting thing, these visits, if for no other reason than the inter-generational dynamics that are on display. I worry about how my kids behave, because I still worry about making my parents upset, even as/though they are far more tolerant of things because they are approaching said behavior from a ‘grandparent-ly’ point-of-view. It’s also interesting (such a dispassionate word!) to note how I tend to regress and/or revert to type in the house in which I spent my most formative years. There’s so much that’s different, but yet so much that makes me feel just like I did 30 years ago. If nothing else, it serves to illustrate for me the many ways in which I have kept to, and deviated from, the patterns by which my parents have lived their daily lives.

Not only do such visits bring into sharper relief the ways in which I have aged, they also make me face up to the ways in which my parents have aged. In my mind’s eye, my parents are frozen at about 40 years-old — i.e., my view of them when I was about 10. Even as the past 30 years have gone by, that’s still how I view them when I think of them. It’s comforting, in a way, as it allows me to always fall back on that sense of child-like awe & reverence that kids need to have about their parents. My dad will always be that ultimate arbiter of truth & “rightness” — I may not have always liked it, but I always believed in & respected the authority he projected & represented. My mom will always be the even-tempered, all-knowing, and ultimate ally — the smartest, most caring woman in the world. (Big sis will always be the coolest, and the best example that a weaselly little brother could ever hope to have — but since she wasn’t there this weekend, I’ll leave it at that… )

Among the many things that I’m thankful to my parents for/about, one stands out in particular. One thing that I’ve learned during my almost 39 years on Earth (about 35 of which I’m actually aware — the first 4 are kinda fuzzy…) is that my parents have done me & big sis a great service by not subjecting us to the same restrictions that were placed upon them. My parents, in their nearly 50 years of marriage, have been subjected to the largely unreasonable expectations of familial demands & obligations. This is neither the time, nor the place for airing the laundry list; rather, suffice it to say that they have endured far more than I would’ve ever been able to, and have done so far more gracefully than could’ve ever been expected. In that context, then, the gift that my parents have given us (me & big sis) is this: they did not subject us to the same “burden of the law” to which they had been subjected. We were not made to feel guilt about going away to college, or moving away after getting married (even hundreds of miles away, and not just the 10 miles away that earned my parents such scorn 31 years ago…). As a parent, a man, and a human, I’m humbled, awed, and thankful for the way in which my parents have lived their lives in a true Christian, Gospel-driven way. They have modeled how to do things such that I truly do not feel the lash of the Law as a motivator, but rather the love of the Gospel.

While this might sound/read like I’m in a maudlin mood, I’m not. I’m thankful — to my parents for their love & example, and to God for my parents.

I’m also thankful to God for Christ on the cross, so that my salvation is not dependent on anything other than Christ on the cross. For if it was necessary for me to contribute in any way at all, I’d surely be on the hell-express. I prove to myself every day that I am powerless to effect any control (in myself or others) or results other than screwing things up.

Anyway, that’s where I was. I planned on blogging, especially now that my parents have broadband, but circumstances colluded such that I never got the chance, with Sat & Sun both presenting obstacles, largely of my own creation. Sometimes I can be quite the bozo…

Shocking, and sad, but true…

-ghp

We just finished up the weekend of festivities in honor of my son Matthew’s 7th birthday.

On his actual birthday — Saturday, June 3 — he got to go shopping, where he got some Thomas the Tank Engine stuff, followed by a round of mini-golf & a pizza dinner at Giggles Pizza (the best pizza in Valpo!) with his best friend Jeremy (Mom, Dad, & big sister Melissa were but bit players! ).

The pizza dinner was then followed by cake at home:

Then on Sunday, after church & lunch, day 2 of the birthday weekend continued with a bowling party with a bunch of his little friends from school:

(photos hosted by Flickr)

There was, naturally, much loud, raucous laughter & high-intensity fun — the kind that can only be generated by six 1st grade boys!

Great fun was had by all, including a now very tired mom & dad! I must give huge & well-deserved props to my beloved bride, as she did an incredible job in getting all this planned & executed for her baby boy (it’s a well-known fact that the Piper men are big-time mama’s boys — right, big sis [who is also Matthew's Godmother, btw...]? But my mama says that there’s nothing wrong with that, so who am I to argue! )

Anyway, I just wanted y’all to see how cute my boy was on his big day(s).

-ghp

If you haven’t already found it & subscribed to it (either via RSS or email), you’ll want to check out Memorial Moments by the Rev. Dr. Scott R. Murray. At the risk of being redundant, it’s good, solid, practical theology, in a nice & easily digestible format. [HT: FatherDMJ]

Of note is the 5/15 entry, Dogma of the Spontaneous, in which Rev. Murray begins with the fabulous first paragraph,

As a pastor and a parent I am often appalled by the number of parents who allow their children to do everything in church but pray. They can eat Cheerios, scribble on the bulletin, tear pages out of hymn books, go to the bathroom three times during the service, gawk around, and so on. However, they don’t seem to be able to bow their heads, fold their hands, close their eyes, and pray, “Our Father…” I am not talking about toddlers who are a challenge to train in the discipline of prayer, but grade schoolers and teen aged children.

This is an issue with which I struggle each week. It’s been a challenge, but I think we’re finally starting to make some headway with our 8.5 y/o daughter (Melissa); however, the going has been much slower with our 7 y/o son (Matthew) — perhaps I should take solace that at least they’re beginning to understand that they actually can hold it & not run to the restroom for an hour, and that church really is about more than just putting in some time before getting donuts. There are times that I despair at the inadequacy that I display as the spiritual head of the household…

-ghp

I’ve long detested the entire premise behind postmodernism. It’s evil, it’s destructive, and it’s flat out wrong. Relativistic thought yields folks nothing more than a whole heap of trouble & woe.

Get Religion has a posting (Postmodern parenting: Only time will tell) that describes the latest gem to come out of the postmodern parenting arena — adults who checked-out of organized religion wanting to check their kids back in. Not for eternal truth/Truth, mind you, but for more worthy goals like the senses of “spirituality” and “community.”

What troubles me most about this latest trend can be summed up in the last sentence of this excerpt/quote from the article that inspired the post (emphasis mine):

So she and Gauri are dishing up a religious smorgasbord: Islam from one grandma, Hindu from the other, a Quaker school, a Buddhist retreat and a bit of evangelical Christianity via their former nanny. As Khan acknowledges, “Only time will tell if we were creating great confusion or great enlightenment.”

I’m horrified by the blithe acceptance & intent to use one’s own child(ren) as fodder for an experiment based on one’s own hubris. If you want to sacrifice yourself on the altar of your own hubris, fine. But to do it to your kids? Horrifying! Logical in the context of the whole twisted, postmodern milieu, but horrifying nonetheless…

-ghp

A relatively new addition to the Territorial Blogroll is Father Hollywood.

Father Hollywood rocks — theologically and, it turns out, in real life as well. For a more complete explanation on both types of rocking check out FH’s recent posting, Entertainment Is Our Youth Program. It’s chock full of solid theological understanding & wisdom regarding the need for solid catechesis built upon the historic liturgy (i.e., what we need) rather than mere “entertainment evangelism” (i.e., what we want, and then project onto our kids as what they want…).

-ghp

I’ve been meme-tagged by Ste. Em (aka The Girl Theologian).

So, without further ado, here are the requisite 5 random facts about me, the territorial blogger:

1. I’m a dog person. Boston Terriers, to be precise. I’ve been around the little fur people my entire life, and I can’t imagine not having at least one of them running around. (Cats, by the way, are devil-beasts — I prefer my pet to be someone who loves me unconditionally…)
2. In Spring, 1982 I was the first student to turn in a term paper on computer printout at Mt. Clemens Lutheran H.S. North (in Mrs. Headapohl’s 7th Hour Freshman English class).
3. I’ve been known to enjoy watching Pro Wrestling. And, of course I know it’s fake/scripted. But it’s not like the “reality” TV I also like is all that real itself. Besides, reality is, as some have observed, overrated…
4. I’ve given serious consideration to attending seminary. For myriad reasons, however, I don’t believe that I come anywhere close to measuring up to that task.
5. My son is very, very much like me, but there is one personality trait that he has that is almost exactly the opposite of me, and which I’m extremely jealous of — he happily goes about his business, cheerfully interacting with people without a bit of guile and/or worry about what they might think about him. As far back as I can remember, there’s always been a part of me that has been deathly afraid of what “they” might think, and so I’ve always had that hanging over me. My son, thankfully, doesn’t seem to have that particular baggage. He is truly an amazingly cool, independent, and self-assured little dude — far more so than I was at the same age (or now, for that matter! ).

Now, while I’m grateful that Ste. Em thought to tag me, and whilst I’ve tagged folks in the past, I’m going to do something that TK has done in the past (IIRC), and that’s just leave an open tag sitting here for those of you who’ve read this far, and haven’t yet been tagged by someone.

-ghp

A fascinating posting over at WorldMagBlog, entitled “Cussing Lite” brings to light an interesting topic. Namely, the emergence, over the past 25 or so years, of an acceptance of so-called substitute swear words. Words like “crap,” “suck,” & “freakin” have become accepted, though thinly-veiled, substitutes for their stronger, and still somewhat unacceptable, counterparts. Although it must be noted that even the stronger “real” cuss words are gaining more currency & losing their stigma. Good or bad, right or wrong, welcome or not, it is happening.

I remember when these words were still quite unacceptable in common conversation. Granted, saying them wouldn’t get you in trouble as much as dropping a “real” f- or s-bomb, but my parents and all the fine Lutheran school teachers I encountered during my school years still wouldn’t have left such substitutions go uncommented. It’s truly interesting just how cultural changes happen so subtly while taking place, yet so clearly & obviously with even a little bit of hindsight.

It’s a long way from that Lutheran H.S. North locker room, in the late fall of 1982 (maybe 1981 – I don’t recall exactly if it was my freshman or sophomore year), when I got busted for dropping an f-bomb. I can still remember it happening, walking down the corridor from the varsity lockers to the freshman/JV lockers & seeing my buddy Miles Knapp (I was just finished with cross country practice & he had just finished football practice…), and exclaiming to him how f’ing cold it was outside. I can still see the look on his face after I said it, followed by my fully rounding the corner & seeing Coach Schuldheisz standing there. Needless to say, he disapproved. And I got the laps (and laps, and laps…) of punishment for about the next week or so to prove it!

Great. Now I’m feeling old.

-ghp

A very nice posting by Pr. Cholak, over at +the Crowned Ones+, wherein he writes on the subject of children (and other non-communicants, I would infer) at the Communion rail.

Intellectually, I understand (I think) the arguments about why folks want to have everyone come on up to the rail; however, I disagree. I don’t think that it’s, ultimately, a more beneficial/salutary practice. In fact, as Pr. Cholak writes, I think that it is actually harmful because it introduces some level of uncertainty into/onto/unto that which should have none. Currently, an emotion-driven desire for “inclusivity” and outward shows of “unity” seem to have carried the day. It sounds heartless to state that the Communion rail is not the place for blessings — but it’s true. This practice is an innovation of recent vintage, and it is one that has served to lessen, rather than strengthen, certainty.

-ghp

As the father of a 6 year old boy, I found the latest commentary by the Rev. Dr. Al Mohler, Barbarians and Wimps: America’s Boy Problem to be both timely and compelling. Having kids of my own, and a son in particular, has made me all the more appreciative of my father, and the job that he did in raising me. He is truly my role model, and I couldn’t have a better one. I only hope that God sees fit to bless me in the raising of my son (and daughter!), that I might become the benchmark of “being a man” for my Matthew that my dad was/is/ever-shall-be for me. (But, enough of that, lest I get weepy here at the keyboard! ).

-ghp