Then Aaron took off by himself for a spiritual retreat at a monastery about an hour away. This was to make up for the class retreat he missed in January. He was a little nervous he might offend some uptight monks somehow, but he really enjoyed it.

He got back just in time for the seminary picnic to welcome all the new and returning students. My friend E. also kicked off a group for the spouses of seminary students, which I think was much needed and will be much appreciated by those who take part. Friday was the all-seminary (and families) retreat day at a nearby camp with a sweet pool open in the afternoon (AJ can tell you what happens if you get cocky and step from the wading pool into the big pool without swimmies–lesson learned, I hope!). I really enjoyed the retreat this year and feel like I know a lot more seminary people now, although the new incoming class is huge so there are many I haven’t met.

It feels much different being on the “experienced” side of a seminary year. It’s fun getting to know new neighbors and their kids who play with ours on the big playground behind our houses. It’s nice knowing better what to expect from the year: I wrote on the calendar for August 30 “Classes start/Aaron freak out.” I sometimes have the urge to gather some of these innocent, fresh-from-college newlyweds and shelter their tender hearts from the onslaught that’s about to hit them! Of course each will have to find their own way, but I hope  I can offer someone the encouragement they need on the day they’re bursting into tears, like further-along friends did for me last year. I know we’re going to need that encouragement and support ourselves too, but it feels like a different role in the community somehow.

This semester’s workload for Aaron is looking like no less of a doozy than last year’s, though. He is trying to keep his freak-outs under control, but they’re in there jabbering at his brain This is impossible. This is impossible. This is impossible. Still, it seems possible he’ll really like some of his classes. And in 15 weeks, he’ll be halfway done with seminary!

As you’re praying (please) for his studies, please also continue to pray for his eye. His actual doctor (the kind, calm one, not Dr. FreakYouOut) is willing to do the surgery if he finds the partially dislocated eye too difficult to live with, but there is risk. We could decide at his October appointment whether to schedule the surgery for Christmas break or not.

This weekend, because we hadn’t had enough time away lately(?!), we are going camping with our church at a summer camp. This is an annual tradition but our first time. It should be good hang-out time (when Aaron’s not studying) and AJ loved camping earlier this summer.

After that we will be really READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL!!! Go Lions! And go Suh-Nami Zone, our first ever fantasy football team! We had our draft party last weekend and it was a blast even though we only kind of knew what we were doing. Chatterbox came all the way from Oregon just to babysit for the day! Okay, no, she came to go back to college, but we put her to good use while we had her for a few days between her arrival and her dorm opening tonight. We are so happy to see her loving school and so proud of her. And so glad she does dishes.

Wow, that was a long blog. Behold the power of the early bedtime! I mean for AJ, now that the school routine has started, although honestly I feel ready to follow suit. Goodnight, my friends.

• Exams happened. Post-exam bonfires happened. Graduation happened. We are trying not to think about the friends we’ve made who are seniors moving away…
• Aaron has completed one year of seminary. One third done already. That had to be one of the fastest 9-month periods of our lives, especially the blur that was April. Did we even have an April? (Hard to be sure–the weather was playing February far too long.)
• We got to have Chatterbox with us through exam week because her college got out earlier and she didn’t leave for Oregon until this past week. It was actually great timing because we could make her do dishes and watch Anna and generally be our indentured paid-in-cell-service nanny enough to keep the house functioning through the busy exam week.
• We enjoyed some of the Tulip Time festivities, such as eating elephant ears, shivering through a parade, watching the Dutch Klompen Dancers klomp, and pitying that poor basset hound wearing Dutch garb.
• My cousin Laura came through town in time for the parade, and the next day for Mother’s Day we gathered at my parents’ with my Grandma and Papa B., Grandma H., and Aunt Barb as well. I got zero rest that day but did score the iTouch I’d been coveting! The commuter’s sanity saver.
• I was then brutally attacked by allergies and spent last week in a snot and Sudafed based fog. I also generally felt like my house and life were an out of control mess, which is not unusual but can get me feeling out of sorts when combined with not feeling great and not getting a chance to catch up, let alone look ahead. Even this weekend, although we had no big plans (except Aaron had a Classis retreat Saturday–part of the denominational ordination process is that and an exam he has Tuesday), I felt like I never unwound yet also never got anything caught up. Today I never really stopped either, but at least we have groceries and the dishes got done.
• Last week, his first Monday of summer vacation, Aaron went to the hand doctor to score some more Vicodin see how his thumb is healing. The bone, okay. The ligaments, etc.,…not so good. So he had a CT scan Tuesday, another consult Wednesday, a visit to his regular doctor Friday. I should have gone so I could understand this better, but the ligaments are messed up and pulling his finger wrong and bottom line, there will be surgery involving pins and I presume some kind of Ligament Gorilla Glue. The surgery is Thursday morning.
• Almost worse than the surgery is that for a week before and after, he has to be on even more hard core blood thinners than he’s usually on, so he has to give himself shots twice a day. What a cruel thing to tell a person to do. I feel bad that I can’t help, but it’s common knowledge that I faint at the sight, nay, even the thought of . . . hey, I just had the weirdest dream . . . Oh, right, as I was saying: at the thought of shots. So I’m useless as he’s being tortured.
• But hey, at least we have group insurance now! (Seriously, I would be SO freaked out by now if we didn’t. And so bankrupt and living off the dole. On the dole? Is it on the wagon or off the wagon?)

That’s that. Please pray for Aaron with the shots and for the surgery to be even more successful than anticipated–it is the kind of thing where the doctor says it’ll probably need to repaired again someday (because of Marfan? I’m not positive).

Note for our Smallport friends: We are trying to get our Oregon visit nailed down but this kind of stuff keeps making it hard to get it done. We are thinking around June 3 or 4 to 14-ish.

‘Nuff said?

The good news is that he has Monday and Tuesday off and we are going to try to find something fun to do this weekend, kid-free. Ideas?

Professor: Hey, Joe, I was bragging you up this weekend!

Student: Well, that’s gonna come back to bite you.

(Submitted by Aaron. Names changed to protect the bragworthy.)

He got a long weekend with two extra days off, but it didn’t feel like much of a break because he had a huge midterm the next day. Then another exam last week. And another today. Every week it’s something. He swears his professors have no idea there are actually other professors who are also assigning huge amounts of work; each one proceeds like keeping their students chained to their library carrels is their high and holy calling in life.

The saving grace is that Aaron’s not the only one feeling constantly busy and overwhelmed; pretty much all the first year students are in the same boat. He has some guys he gets along with especially well and meets with one morning a week (before 8:00 classes–can anyone who’s ever encountered Aaron in the morning believe it?) to pray and commiserate and plan their rebel alliance against overly liberal theology. They call themselves the Jedi Council. But because they like to lurk in the back of a crowd, whispering who knows what plots behind and above everyone’s backs and bald spots, I call them the TPA, Tall People’s Alliance. Or the Conservatalls. (Acafellas was rejected.)

Since the weather’s been outdoor unfriendly and everyone’s been either sick or busy or both, we haven’t seen much of our neighbors/the Jedi families. Even though we are close, it’s easy to end up holed up in isolation unless we are intentional. So tomorrow we are getting together with the Jedi/TPA families–and celebrating having just two weeks to go until a full week off for Thanksgiving!

The god of money and stuff has died. It is no longer providing comfort and peace. . . . If your god is dead, you mope around anxiously, checking for signs he’s coming back to life. If your God is Jesus, your source of joy and generosity is alive and well. . . .

Jesus was poor and generous. All the other gods in the world are takers.

—Pastor Tim

Last week I was moping. And worrying. And poking anxiously. And obsessing.

And generally getting nowhere but miserable doing it.

Last week was not a good week. Nothing was working; everything was swamped. Aaron was exhausted and overwhelmed by tests and reading and papers; I was exhausted and frustrated by temper tantrums and potty training and medical bills and my own inability to meet my minimum standards for work and income and saintlyness even a basic level of cleanliness.

By Friday we had a conversation about it that can be summed up like this: “I feel like I suck.” “I feel like I suck.” “I have to study.” “I have to work.” “I need a break.” “I need a break.” Well now, that was productive.

What do you do when something’s gotta give but there’s nothing left in the bank?

You give it up. You let it go. You look elsewhere. You leave that idol for dead once and for all (once again).

I had high hopes for myself–in myself–that I could make this work for us, this seminary thing. I thought I could do enough and make enough to make the house run smoothly and keep our brand-new savings mostly intact for three years (or good grief, at least more than three months).

What I did not, could not know was how different this life rhythm would be and how much that would affect me. I didn’t know how much I’d miss Aaron having Fridays and Saturdays off so I could work at the coffeeshop and being able to blow off steam acting crazy with teenagers. I didn’t account for simple things like having to plan and cook dinner seven nights a week instead of three or four and how tired and out of creativity I’d be at the the end of these days which start so early now.

I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t do it all well enough anymore.

I didn’t want to admit my god was dead.

If your god is dead, you mope around anxiously, checking for signs he’s coming back to life.

I moped. I worried. I calculated and estimated, checked and rechecked. No use. I had to admit: the money god had not come through. I had not been able to bring him to life and make him give me peace.

The stupid thing is, we’re not out of money. I fell short of my September goals, but we weren’t in trouble. That old house we sold in Oregon sent us on our way with more savings than we’ve had in years. It was truly God’s provision for us to come to seminary. Trouble was, I wanted to make it our security.

I like to think I don’t have a spiritual problem with money because I honestly have little desire to be rich. I try to give generously and remember that even when the checkbook balance runs down, we already are rich. We usually don’t have much extra saved, and I’m usually okay with that.

But as soon as we did have that “safety net”—I fell for it. I fell in love with it, because I thought it would make me feel safe. I thought it would make me secure.

Then I found out it can’t.

It can’t comfort me, because it’s not living. It can’t give me peace, because all it does is take.

This thing–this number–became something to take pride in rather than something to be thankful for. It became something to value in and of itself and a measure of my success and worth or lack thereof. And so every time I tapped into it, it mocked me and stole my joy: You need me. You can’t make it without me, because you’re not good enough to make it on your own. If you don’t make your life revolve around protecting me, I’ll be gone, and then what will you do? You’re screwed without me.

But God didn’t give us this money to protect at all costs. He didn’t give us this provision just so we could look at it and feel better. He gave it to us as provision for this time and this task. Whether we have ten dollars or ten thousand in the end matters not one bit to him as long as we are doing and becoming what he has called us to. What good will it be for me to preserve these measly digits and lose my own generosity and joy? What good is savings at the cost of losing our balance as a family as we follow God’s call?

Slowly this started to dawn on me last Friday, through all the ugly, exhausted moments: that the one thing I can control is my response to my inability to control everything. That I may not be able to do anything about the fact that my expectations weren’t realistic at this time, but I could decide not to be upset about having to rely on God’s provision instead of myself. I could go back to being grateful for it instead of protective of it—since it’s not really mine anyway—and trusting God that we will always, as always, have enough.

Sunday we got that much needed sermon on generosity (probably the best money sermon I’ve ever sat in). And in that holy irony—whether God was blessing me with a wink and a smile or I simply had newly opened eyes to see them more gratefully—this week I’ve had work opportunities coming at me from every angle.

And I didn’t even freak out when the truck needed repairs. Take that, money god.

My Provider is alive and well.

.

How do you turn away from the money god? Or what dead idol do you most often try to bring back to life?

STUDENT: I hate that guy.

He had orientation last week, and I joined in on the all-seminary retreat last Friday.

Classes started Monday.

Aaaaaaaand we bailed out of the church camping trip we were going to go on because he has so much to do–reading, a quiz test on a billion maps and more on Tuesday, leading a group Wednesday. The amount of work on his syllabi pretty much scared the pants off him for the first few days, but he does like most of his professors and classes, so hopefully it won’t all be as bad as the nervous anticipation. Still, it can be overwhelming at times.

Meanwhile I have been struggling to focus on making more work hours in the week rather than freaking out over how much more income needs to start coming in. (Student loans, please hurry…) I’ve also handled AJ mostly by myself most of the week, and I am not one of those mom who can do all toddler all the time; I start to turn into Frankenmom. I admit I have not handled this stress that well at times (like yesterday, for example).

Thankfully, we are surrounded by other students who are either feeling the same way or have already survived a year or two and can assure us that yes, first year is hard–for everyone–so we’re not crazy, but it gets easier.

And–oh joy!–we had an Oregonian in our living room! Our Smallport youth group student Chatterbox arrived Wednesday evening to start at Kuyper College. This brave one traveled across the country by herself; we picked her up at the airport and she stayed with us until she could get into the dorm on Friday. We even got to watch a Lions (preseason) game with her, just like old times. And the simple pleasure of talking about mundane things like finding things in the grocery store and knowing what she means by the peanut butter and jelly wall at Ray’s was like having a tiny piece of our West Coast home here in our West Michigan home. It will be nice for us to have each other relatively nearby. It’s funny that I’ve now experienced dropping a kid off at college, but we are happy to call her our kid as long as they don’t send any bills.