Treehouse: Phase II

Every pastor needs a treehouse. Or at least something that gets the mind off the job--preferably something creative. I have a colleague who knits voraciously, another who is a jazz musician; I have a treehouse. Last year I completed Phase I, a platform around the trunk of a single maple tree. (I say "completed"; in fact, it still needs to be stained. But the construction proper is finished.)

Now that it's starting to feel like spring, we've begun Phase II. With the help of a kindred spirit in treehouse building, Kurt Rogler, the basic support structure of Phase II is almost complete.

Here is the support for one end. Instead of bolting this end of the joists to this trio of trees (which are cherry trees), I decided to let gravity and friction to the work. At the level of the yellow ties you can see the side of a triangular brace that will bear the weight of the platform. It is wedged between the trunks, with a little just-in-case support from a pair of 2x4 legs that sit in the crotch of the cherry trio.

Atop this triangular brace (at left here) sit three 2x8s, which run to the other end of the platform, and will be bolted to three different hemlock trees. They will not be rigidly fixed to the triangular brace, allowing for slight sway in the trees without tearing the platform apart. (Kurt's expertise came in handy for this conceptual design point.) This is a view from the bottom:
These joists are about eleven feet off the ground; to work on them, we were reaching from the highest position we could get on our ladders:
Here's Kurt (standing about 6'3"), with Phase I above and to the left, and Phase II above and to the right:

As you can see, today was a good day. Tomorrow is garden work (tomato posts, to be specific); but for now, it was enough to spend two hours living out a childhood dream. Viva l'arborvilla!

~emrys

Learning the Loom

Thanks to a gracious gift from friends of mine in the congregation, I now possess a Structo Artcraft Loom. I think it was made in the '60s or '70s (certainly before I was born), from steel. With the help of a lesson from Jim and Sandy, and a deconstructed pair of knit gloves, I had what I needed to try my hands at weaving. Here are a few pictures of the results:

Too narrow (and tight) to be a scarf, too rough to be art--what is it?

After finding a handwritten (!) instruction book on different pattern charts online, I figured out how to experiment with different patterns. You can see some of the rough spots in this photo.


~ emrys

Glassblowing Photos

Here are the pictures I promised from my first glassblowing experience in Orlando (see earlier post, 1 or 2 April).

Here is my glass coming out of the furnace, at a blazing 2600 degrees (though according to Charlie, "it's only Fahrenheit").

Here's Charlie and I smoothing out the sides of the glass (still deep red with heat). That's my hand with the watch, and my hand holding the wet (and very hot) paper under the glass. Charlie's doing the rolling of the pipe.
Here's Charlie (in the plaid with the dreds) and Charles (yes, there are two) breaking my glass off the pipe, so we can begin working on the mouth of the glass.I'm in the bright blue, using the "jacks" to open up the mouth of the glass and get it into a circular shape.

Et voila! One day later, we have the finished product. The steely blue flecks are chrome, which I'm so pleased Charlie put in there for me.

For all you inquiring minds: Yes, I can drink out of it, but it's only recommended that I put cold liquids in it. Since it's "art glass," meant for display and not for rigorous use, there is great risk in putting hot water in it or subjecting it to too much abuse. So I think I'll only use it for special occasions.

~ emrys

On The Threshold

We sit on the threshold of a new season. Surrounded by the Peeper frogs, who three nights ago were partying in the warm moisture, last night were rendered silent again by cold. Rumor has it that the Peepers have to “freeze” three times before spring is really here. A gorgeous red cardinal sits among grey, bare branches, feeling out the air. It tests its surroundings to see if it is time to be out from winter yet. Three crocuses have made their purple presence known in the chill of early spring. Daffodils and tulips with swollen buds just waiting for the right bit of sunshine before they explode color into the grey landscape of early spring.

I sit at the picture window in my kitchen surrounded by seedlings: tomatoes, green peppers, marigolds, lupine, broccoli. We wait. We rest. We enjoy the blue-skied, chilly-aired day that just feels like a spring-vault into the next season. The weather map promises warmer days and sunshine all week.

But this time of year even the rainy days bring promises of green grass and budding flowers once the skies clear. Color is starting to infiltrate the monochrome of winter, just more indicators that spring is on the way!
~sjt

Big Sky

Most days in our neighbourhood are cloudy. We get a lot of that grey blanket of cloud that seems to seal the lid of the world tight above us. So often those clouds do not bring rain, but neither do they admit the sun.

Some days are crystal clear, the dome of the firmament so high and light blue that it seems not even to be there. The sky then is an ethereal film above your head; the sun dominates with her bright rays, making the earth shine and glow.

Then, ever more rare, are the Big Sky days. These are the days I miss Colorado the most, for Colorado has these days all the time. A Big Sky is a bright blue sky scattered with a patchwork of giant clouds, fluffly cumulonimbus working their way with deliberate speed across the heavens. They are luminescent and white on top, shaded on the bottom where the sun cannot penetrate the tight droplets of moisture. They have texture and depth--oh, such great depth!--so that looking up is like looking down into a sea of air. The Big Sky is close, so close you might touch those floating titanics, if only you could reach a little higher. The wind that carries the mighty air ships caresses the ground and your hair, as if to say, Yes, yes, you can reach a little higher! Try it!

And you want to watch the clouds all day, to see where they are going, to read whose names are etched on the sides of the heavenly barges, to dream of leaving this earthly port to sail around the world far above it with angels and dreamers. Perhaps your name is on one of those ships; or perhaps it is the name of your friend, your lover, your long-lost relative.

And I sigh into the wind, feeling the warmth of the sun, then the cool of a cloud-shadow, then the warmth of the sun again. And I take Sara's hand, and we walk on across the high field, savouring the promise of spring under the gift of a Big Sky.

~emrys

Blowing Glass

Before we came to Orlando, I had to come up with something to do on my birthday. (This is part of the deal for Birthday Week--no matter where we are, the three birthday kids, David, myself, and Sara, have to set the agenda for the day of our anniversary.) Having discounted the central Florida usuals (D-World, S-World, and golf), I searched the internet for what artsy stuff was going on in the city of Orlando.

"Keila Glassworks." That sounds interesting.

I clicked on the link (you can, too, at the bottom of this entry), hoping to find a cool hand-blown glass gallery to peruse and enjoy.

I found what I was looking for--and so much more.

On the Keila Glassworks website I saw a link to "Classes." Classes? You mean, I might actually be able to try my hand at this ancient craft? Yes! I clicked a couple more times, the heavens opened, I heard an angelic choir, and I found my birthday activity: getting a lesson in glass blowing and creating my very own piece. Awesome!

Charlie, one of the head honchos at Keila, met us at the gallery with a smile, a firm handshake, and lots of jokes about his long dredlocks ("this bear on my back"). He led us behind the studio to the work shop, where he gave me a tour of the process by which glass pieces (in this case, a drinking tumbler) are created. Then, with Sara and the in-laws looking on, he sat me down to do some of the hand work of shaping molten glass into a gorgeous, usable piece. Charlie's generous demeanour and genuine hospitality made our time there a joy.

Now, to be honest, I only did a little bit of the work. But, as Charlie told me early on, glass blowing is not something one can learn in one lesson. He said, "If I do 80% of the work and you do 20% of it, and you come out with a basic knowledge of how glass is made, then we've been successful." And that's about the ratio of effort: 80% Charlie, 20% Emrys (hm, maybe 85/15). But in that one-fifth of the process I got to feel how gentle and soft is molten glass; I got to test my hand-eye coordination by trying to shape a blob of glass on a rolling steel pipe; I got to feel how hot the glass really is coming out of the furnace. (I got a mild sunburn on my right forearm from being within ten inches of the glass while working it. The glass really is like lava.)

There will be pictures in future posts, since the peanut gallery watched and documented the whole show. (And they kept their heckling to a minimum.) But more important than the pictures--and even than the glass I now have as a souvenir--was the chance to set my hands to this ancient art, to feel the heat, to try the skills, and to learn first-hand about something that until Sunday was just a mysterious curiosity.

To Charlie, Meg, and Charles (The Second) at Keila Glassworks, great thanks. I raise my glass to you!

To y'all who are reading this post, I ask you for a favour. Even if you have a persistent distaste for glass (who on earth would have that?), help me in promoting the enriching experience of Keila Glassworks by clicking on their link below.

http://www.keilaglassworks.com/index.html

~ emrys

Orlando Face Lift

Four days ago our plane landed in Florida. We boarded the monorail that runs between the terminal and pick-up areas of the Orlando airport. As the doors closed, I noticed a group of men standing together joking and laughing. Their faces were lit with the joy of Florida sun, the promise of golf courses for their Titleist ball caps, and the hope of attractions at Epcot Center. They joked with a stranger and his son about how much things would cost, and how this five-year-old would tap his father for money on this vacation; all in the kind-hearted banter that grows on trees in the Sunshine State.

I thought about what these guys did on the weeks they weren’t on vacation. One was likely someone in the high-powered world of finances, where no one jokes about how much things cost. Another likely did some form of valuable labour—an auto mechanic, maybe?—whose boss is always passing on crap from the customers. A third is probably just making ends meet, who comes home and tells his own children that they can’t have all the money they want, because the stuff doesn’t grow on trees. They may all work in the world of hard labour and disappointment: the grind and the rat race for the ever-shrinking cheese at the end of the maze.

But today—this week—they step off the plane and step out of the maze. They come to a place where the grimace of hard work can give way to the smile of rest; where the furrowed brow of hoarding can surrender to the belly-laugh of spending. They have come to Orlando for their Sabbath rest. They have come to Orlando for a face lift.

And though I can see the scars, Lordy doesn’t that new look make a world of difference?
~ emrys

Online Baptism

I read about it, and said, "Huh?"

I emailed the guy in charge, and said, "What?"

Now I've seen it for myself, and I'm saying "Whoa." Here it is: the Flamingo Road Church "Internet Campus" website, conducting its first ("the" first?) online baptism. If you want to watch it, check out the link:

http://www.frclive.blogspot.com/

A first response for me is: How cool! They've figured out how to use the human-made tool of commuication, the internet, to encourage folks to be baptized. They have used the medium of cyberspace to reach across time and space to conduct one of the most powerful and foundational rituals in the life of a Christian. Awesome! I say, Praise the Lord that Alyssa is baptized and has committed her life to Christ! She has answered the call of the Spirit, and that is always a wondrous thing.

My second response is: how strange! Pastor Brian, as he "led" the baptism of Alyssa over the gap of cyberspace, required someone else to "be his hands" for this ritual. Lisa, a believer and relative to Alyssa, followed his instructions by lowering Alyssa into the bath tub after Brian declared the trinitarian formula (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) from afar. Lisa did the baptism, but she was Brian's hands for the event. Why couldn't Lisa have done the baptism herself? Why were Brian and the other pastor on the other end of the internet link necessary?

I could only speculate on why Lisa felt like she needed Brian to lead the baptism. But on the surface it looks like Brian has some sort of authority to baptize. Perhaps he has been ordained as a pastor of Flamingo Road Church, to lead this on-the-edge ministry through the internet. And I think this idea of ordination (calling individuals to use their gifts in certain roles in the Church) is good. Brian ought to be doing the work he is doing.

Yet, if Brian has been ordained to a ministry of online baptism by a community of faith (Flamingo Road Church), where does this community of faith connect with Alyssa? I did not hear any words about how Alyssa has committed herself to living within the body of Christ, in relationship with other believers. I did not hear Brian challenge her to get involved in a local congregation, to worship the Lord with her brothers and sisters. The baptism is presented as an isolated incident in Alyssa's life. In one sense this is quite fitting, for the internet is a place where we can connect with other people without sacrificing our anonymity. We need not draw close to a community that can hold us accountable or walk with us on the journey; we can have the baptism without the connections. And to my generation, this may be the way we like it best.

But is it the way that the Spirit wants it? Does she want us to get dunked, feel good (as Alyssa rightfully does), and go on living our own lives? Or (as maybe you suspect by now that I think) does the Spirit want us to be baptized into a community of people who, being baptized like us, also commit to loving us and holding us accountable to our discipleship?

I come from a tradition and reading of scripture in which baptism is very important, and in which the community function of the Church is just as important. So the Flamingo Road Church online baptism phenomenon makes me both excited and concerned. I see that the Church has discovered how to reach through cyberspace with the call to follow Jesus. I also wonder if the Church has discover how to reach through cyberspace with the call to be gathered in the name of Jesus.

~emrys

Thanksgiving

I recently received news (as it was happening) that a friend was having an encounter with the police. The severity of the crime was not such that I was concerned about having to visit this friend in prison anytime soon. Nonetheless, as a result of this minor incident, I noticed something that gave me pause.

When I heard about the police questioning this friend, I did not feel an overwhelming fear that my friend was in danger. That is to say, I did not bear anxiety that my friend would be treated unfairly by the police or placed in a position where he would have to pay a bribe to fend off corrupt law enforcers. I trusted the police presence to weigh my friend's situation justly, rationally, and gracefully, and to act within the bounds provided by the government.

I thought of how many places there exist in the world where having the police show up at your door causes rightful anxiety and fear. There are so many towns and cities where the police may detain you at the will of the officer, demand a bribe, or worse. There are too many locales where having the wrong last name makes you an enemy of the police and other government officials. In some places, calling the police for help is like calling the mob to do your taxes.

So I give thanks to the Lord for the privilege of peace, such that I can trust the presence of the police to serve our common good. I praise the Lord that, for now, this part of our lives may remain reasonably free from fear. For this not so little thing, I give thanks.

Shalom,
emrys

The Utility of Force

"The Utility of Force," by General Rupert Smith, is my latest read. I recommend it to you. Smith surveys military history from the time of Napoleon up to the present-day war in Iraq, with an eye for discerning how military force is used effectively or not.

The book is quite a tome, and explores exhaustively its topic. Smith is thoughtful, with a strong analytical mind and acute perception of the things that go on during war. This reflects his long and varied experience in the field of making military decisions.

Smith does not ask the question "Should nations ever use force?" He is far from a pacifist seeking to convince us to scale back our use of force. Instead he argues that we must learn how to use force better; that is, make it more useful. He argues that our (the European and American West's) current use of force is ill-equipped for the challenges we face. This failure to match use of power with our goals in the world is what produces "quagmires" in places like Iraq and Afghanistan.

"The Utility of Force" gave me new questions to ask when I watch the news about events in war-torn areas of the world. Now, instead of echoing the popular cry that "War sucks, but sometimes you just have to go to war," I can think more critically about why and how nations go to war. Best of all, Smith offers a way out of our current spiral of watching heavily armoured vehicles full of well-intentioned coalition soldiers getting blown up by IEDs on a regular basis. The way out, as always, requires a profound shift in thinking. But I, even as someone who only watches the wars from the media sidelines, am grateful for Smith's vision, a ray of hope in what I sense to be an otherwise despairing situation.

If you are interested in a different way to think about war that honours the complexity we see these days--and if you can handle some heavy reading--pick up "The Utility of Force."
~emrys