I’m going to combine two posts into one. Fear my blogging power!

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. I’m doing okay, actually. Had a bit of a moment when I read this, but otherwise I was on an even keel for the day. That’s good, actually. Looking back at previous years, this day has been better or worse, depending on stuff.

Elder James McDonald grabbed me after worship and said that he had been praying for us. He lost his mother a few years ago, too, and he said that he’d been thinking about us. On the one hand, it’s a positive indication that it took me a moment to figure out what he meant. On the other hand, I was deeply moved and appreciative that he had remembered. Made me feel loved.

The day before that, I watched Baby Mamma with Crystal. She wanted to see it, and it was for her birthday, so I said yes.

Now, before I launch into my cultural critique, I need to say that I enjoyed the movie. As my father would say, “It was diverting.” It followed the romantic comedy formula without the central relationship actually being a romance. In other words, it was about a relationship founded initially on a lie that needed to be transformed to a relationship founded on truth. Maybe it was a buddy movie…or maybe buddy movies are related to romantic comedies.

Anways, the bits about pregnancy and childbirth were pretty funny, and I laughed at the right places. At least, I’m pretty sure that they were the right places.

Then I left the theater with Crystal, opining that our civilization is doomed.

Providentially, as we wandered the Shoppes after the movie, we stumbled upon the display of the Dirty Laundry Project, which essentially reinforced my concern.

We have disconnected love, sex, marriage, and childbearing. In the movie, one of the characters says to another one, “What does being married have to do with having a baby?” One of the T-shirt said, “Love does not equal sex. Sex does not equal love.” While it’s certainly true that sex doesn’t always equal love, isn’t it supposed to? Several of the T-shirts talked about waiting to have sex. Wait for what? Marriage was never mentioned. Apparently, you’re supposed to wait for “the right one”. But, in the heat of the moment, the one in front of you is “the right one”.

And, ultimately, we take love, sex, marriage, and childbearing, and turn them into ways to satisfy our own lusts and desires. Yes, even childbearing. It’s the new way to self-actualize, to find meaning in your existence. Having children has become about being fulfilled as a person, not about giving to the next generation.

The more I wander the world, the more that I realize that the simple act of establishing a household, centered on the marriage of a God-fearing man to a God-fearing woman, raising God-fearing children, is a revolutionary act of epic proportions. The kind that makes the foundations of this corruption system tremble.

Here’s one from the quote file:

“Surely avant-garde enemy rebels of the system never had to change diapers.”–Bruce Sterling, Islands in the Net

I wouldn’t be so sure about that.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

I haven’t forgotten about this. However, this Friday, the folks at Film and Theology at Mars Hill Church in Seattle will be watching this. I’m waiting to hear what James Harleman has to say before writing up my thoughts. This is mostly because I’m still gathering what I thought about this movie.

The Twiiter updates are vanishing from my blog. If you’re interested in following me on Twitter, you can go here.

• Sitting on the patio, listening to the pond. #
• Juggling stuff at work. #
• Back from another couple rounds of Twlight Struggle. US and USSR running neck and neck. Now to find an SDK that I need. #
• Hungry and ready to go home. #

So, back here, I described that I was going to begin experimenting with Twitter. Personally, I’ve found the experience fascinating. It’s even useful, as it let me stay in prayer for a family in our church while their aged mother passed away. But now I turn to you, my faithful readers. I’ve been putting the Twitter updates into my blog for about a month now. What do you think? Choose one of the following:

1) You used to write posts on this blog, you moron. Knock it off!

2) I find myself strangely attracted to the petty details of your life.

3) I could really care less what you do.

4) I’m going to send you $20.

Please respond in the comments!

• Been living my calling. #
• I’m about to refinish the dining room floor with Crystal. #

• To work! Troubleshooting a database sync issue. Um. Not quite as excited now. LOL. Actually, I’m looking forward to having it FIXED! #
• Played the start of Twilight Struggle over lunch. Yay! #

Of course, I believe that bacon is healthier than this.

• Going to bed to watch The Wire. Then, tomorrow, work! #
• Did I mention that I finished my first draft of A Flower for Mara? I didn’t? Huh… #
• It’s Thursday already? Then it’s almost time for BLOOD RED SANDS! #

• Staying home to be sure that I’m not spreading pinkeye love. I’m probably better, but I’m guessing my coworkers would like me to be *sure*. #

This is how I’m starting the Designer’s Notes. I liked it so much that I figured I’d share it here.

On July 19, 2003, at 11:30 p.m. EDT, my mother passed away. It was a shock to all of us. She was not ill; she had shown no indication of any problem. She was working outside that afternoon and, around 2:00 p.m., was stung by a bee. She wasn’t feeling well and called my sister Elizabeth. While on the phone, she collapsed. My sister hurried over and found her unconscious. The paramedics could not revive her and, after several hours spent in intensive care, she died. She was only 51 years old.

That wasn’t the first time that death had entered my life. In the first six months of 1997, five people who were close to me suddenly passed away. Among them was my Grandpa Anderson and my Grandma Ben-Ezra. Cancer took them both.

Nor was it the last. In 2006, I helped bury Hannah, the three-year old daughter of a co-worker, dead from a congenital disease. A week later, I stood at the grave of William, a sixteen-year old boy from my church, dead from brain cancer.

These are just some of the griefs that I bear, the flowers that I carry for Mara. Writing this game is part of how I am putting them down.

Per Adiel’s request, an update.

I’m writing on my blog, mostly because I was swinging by to grab some info. Not to be morbid, but I wanted to make sure that I got the right date for Mom’s death. (And, while I’m here, I’ll probably grab the date that William died, too.) I’m gathering this info, because I’m about to write the Designer’s Notes for A Flower for Mara, which is mostly autobiography. I figure that I’ll talk a little about Mom, maybe about William, maybe about Hannah. Then a little project history and a brief bibliography (four entries, at present). I’m thinking just a couple more hours, actually. Then, my first draft will be complete!

Of course, there’s still the joy of editing and all that, but it will be a major milestone.

• Pinkeye is a difficult disease. I feel mostly okay, except something is in my eye. Bleh. #
• I think that I might be recovering. That would be good. #

• Finished Season 1 of The Wire. Now to bed…if sick kids will let us. #
• @Linnaeus What’s wrong with that? #
• I’m tired, but the coffee is brewing. #
• My right eye feels a little odd. Here’s hoping it’s not pink-eye. Yay. #
• Playing it safe and going home. #

• I should be asleep. But I’m not. Not even tired. Sigh. #
• Sleep comes. Good. #
• Spending time with Lansberrys #