|
| I'm not sure if anyone uses or reads Xanga any more. It certainly appears I don't. Well, I read the updates when they come to my e-mail, but otherwise Xanga has fallen off my radar. It seems everyone is moving to Facebook. I've been holding out for a few reasons. (1) I'm not sure I can justify the time I know I will end up wasting on it. (2) Do I really need to have a virtual count of hundreds and thousands of 'friends'? I'm not sure what that might do to my ego. (3) What if it turns out that I really only have few or no friends, and no one wants to be in my network? That would be sad. Of the three, the first is the most pressing.
Well, if you've muddled through the belabored opening, how about a brief life update. Nearly a year has gone by and as has been the Copenhaver tradition, it has been quite eventful. I last posted on Calvin's illness. He is now much, much better. A few gallons of antibiotics adminstered both orally and by IV worked wonders on the poor boy. So, we returned to Philly in early February and I quickly buried myself in my studies. I learned a lot in the spring semester. Countless hours were spent reading in the early mornings, I worked on Hebrew late at night, and in between I studied and wrote papers. The most enjoyable part were two papers I wrote on the book of Job. Being immersed in that book for three months was life-changing.
Speaking of life-change, March came with an ominous cloud of impending doom. The administration at Westminster, already having demonstrated disorganization and incompetence at a number of turns (which we shall skip over), began placing letters in the boxes of students asking for prayer regarding the perilous state of the school. The letters were very ambiguous and smacked of fear-mongering. A date was set for the end of March when the students would be informed of the 'situation.' Long story short (and this is my interpretation of the long story), the school had decided to redraw its theological position. This required relieving itself of any faculty that fell outside this new position, and so the administration had targeted one professor to begin this cleaning of house. They had already dismissed a non-tenured professor last fall (the Pauline scholar I was on track to dissertate under), and now were removing a tenured professor who had taught for 15 years within the school. As information trickled out, nearly half the faculty now found themselves on the fence and wondering whether they were 'in or out' of the new position. The two professors now fired were both from within my program, and 3 of the remaining 4 professors in the program were/are in clear peril.
This whole situation was shocking to students, who were kept completely unaware as the situation developed for months/years behind the scenes. The shockwaves were, in some ways, quite fierce and spread quickly. My PhD program was the hardest hit and would likely not survive, so students were sent scrambling for alternate schools to finish in. The problem - most schools receive PhD applications in January and make admission decisions in March. The result - every school I called had literally just days before filled their open positions for students and disbursed scholarship funds for the 2009 school year. I and my fellow students were SCREWED!
But God has an amazing way of working good out of bad situations. One by one, students found schools to take them where their studies would not be interrupted, and the same was true of me. Now, I can honestly say that my education is on a better track than it was at Westminster. I found a school in Scotland that does a distance-study, part-time PhD. It appears I will be working with a top-notch New Testament scholar and will ultimately graduate with a PhD from the University of Aberdeen, a more highly regarded school than was Westminster. In the immediate future, I am turning my coursework at Westminster into a ThM degree in Old Testament. What all of that means is that in 5 years (or perhaps 9...) I will have more degrees and broader degrees and a better degree than if I had stayed at Westminster. The downside is the great disruption this has brought to our lives.
We really enjoyed living in Philly. It was a good time for our family - a time of respite and refreshment. We had a good schedule and a good pace, we loved the city, and we especially cherished our church family. We were ministered to by an amazing pastor - Mark Ritzman - and were near good friends and family. We were eager to spend another 1-2 years there. But instead, we have moved again. I was offered a part-time pastorate in Vancouver, BC (yes, in Canada!), and so we moved in August. Yes, we drove 3000+ miles in a diesel truck, paying $5/gallon along the way (and $4/gallon to drive our car behind). You don't want to know that amounted to, but someone on the other side of the world is smiling and thinking about building a large skyscraper as a result!
We covet your prayers. We are now in BC working on settling. Susie is not having much luck finding a job, which we need to survive since I am only part-time. We're hoping to be able to juggle PhD studies, part-time ministry (is there such a thing?), and her part-time work, and we are passionate about not losing our family in the middle of it all. We look forward to being here, but are grieving having to depart Philly early, being denied the opportunity to continue at Westminster (where I was loving studying), and trying to swallow the 'loss' of the massive financial investment we made in moving out there to do just one year of studies. (Needless to say, we invested more into Westminster than I will probably ever earn in a year's salary, but the injustice rests in the hands of our God.) But grieving aside, God has placed us on a better track than we were on then, and as we settle, we look forward to what He has for us here. Perhaps I will blog more on that at another time, but that may be 9 months away!
Hooray Phillies. Go Canucks. Seahawks...well, bless their hearts! | | |
| Thank you for your prayers and encouragement over the past week. Calvin has shown signs of steady improvement, marked by good results on blood tests and a decreasing limp in his left leg. He was able to leave the hospital last night and is now enjoying being back at his grandparents' house. The doctors are optimistic that they caught the infection early, properly diagnosed it as a bone infection (osteomyelitis), and that he will make a full recovery. So here is a rundown of Calvin's Monday.
12:00am - I woke Calvin up so he could receive a one hour treatment by iv. He slept through most of it.
1:30am - Calvin's treatment and the flush were finished, and he was back in bed.
2:30 - Calvin woke up fussing, then went back to sleep.
5:30 - Calvin again woke up, and he climbed into the hospital bed with me.
7:00 - I woke him up so he could receive another treatment.
8:15 - his treatment finished and breakfast arrived.
8:30 - A portable x-ray was brought in and his left leg was held down and x-rayed.
9:00 - Six pediatricians met to discuss his case and his treatment options.
9:30 - A phlebotomist came in to draw blood. She dug around in his left hand unsuccessfully while Susie and I held him down and he screamed. She decided to prick his finger and draw blood that way instead. I was suspicious. She pricked him, he bled everywhere and screamed, and she collected some blood.
9:45 - Three pediatricians rolled through to talk with us and to check on Calvin. They were all optimistic.
10:30 - The nurse told us the phlebotomist had not collected enough blood and needed to draw again. Also, his iv needed to come out and a new one put in.
10:45 - An iv tech prepped him for a new iv. She dug first in his left hand, then in his right hand. She was unsuccessful. Calvin screamed. The nurse said she would look into whether we could get by without the iv.
11:30 - Calvin curled up in Susie's arms and fell asleep, exhausted by the trauma.
2:00 - We woke Calvin up for another phlebotomist, who was able to draw blood from his left arm on the first try. Thank you Lord!
3:30 - The blood tests came back looking good, and the doctor decided we could go home without an iv.
5:30 - All the paperwork was finished and we left the hospital!
6:00 - We picked up Calvin's prescription for oral antibiotics. We were told to break the capsules and mix the medicine with some food or juice. Susie put it in some yogurt. Calvin spit it out immediately. Susie tasted it and nearly puked.
6:30 - We put the meds in some apple juice - one pill diluted in 16 ounces of juice. Calvin swallowed once and made a face. I tasted it. Nasty.
7:15 - We were getting desperate. I put a pill in some soda. Calvin tasted it and puked all over my mom.
7:45 - I put a pill in some chocolate syrup. Calvin swallowed about 1/5 a dose and refused to eat more. 30 seconds later, he puked again.
7:46 - Simon told Susie in a disgusted voice, "I tried something." While we were trying to get chocolate down Calvin, he had tasted the soda concoction. At least he had some meds in him!
8:30 - I spoke with the doctor, and he ordered a different antibiotic that wouldn't taste so bad. He called it into a 24 hour pharmacy - one hour away.
9:30 - I arrived at the pharmacy. They had not received the doctor's orders. I called the doctor and sorted it out.
10:45 - Left the pharmacy with the drugs.
11:45 - I gave Calvin his dose (10mL), and he sucked it down like a champ.
12:00 - To bed.
So, now Calvin will be taking his antibiotics every six hours for three weeks. I told him that if ever he intends to step on a rusty nail, now is the time! Please continue praying for him. He is healing very well, but he still has a journey ahead. He will have more bloodwork done on Thursday, then we will be traveling back to Philly. His doctor there will continue to do bloodwork weekly four 4-6 weeks to make sure the infection does not come back.
I am especially anxious for him to walk normally again. He still has a pretty good limp, and he moves very slowly. My heart longs for him to run and laugh and play again, which the doctors are confident he will eventually do. Please continue praying for him and for us as a family. It has been quite the journey, and God has been good and faithful.
| | |
| I don't update as often as I should, but today I am writing to ask you to pray for our son, Calvin.
Last Friday, I was fixing breakfast for him and Simon as we prepared to head up to the mountains to do some serious sledding. (We are in Washington state visiting family.) Simon and Calvin were running around in my parent's kitchen when Calvin slipped on his blanket and fell down. This is not uncommon, but we realized a while later that he would not walk or put any weight on his left leg. When we stood him up, he would collapse to the floor in pain. We took him to the doctor Friday, and he said he thought it was broken, though it could be sprained. X-rays were taken, and no fracture showed up (though there still could be a fracture). We took him home for the weekend and were told that if he would not walk on it by Monday, we needed to go back to the doctor.
He did not walk on it over the weekend, so the doctor sent us Monday to have a bone scan done. We were killing time at Starbucks waiting for the results, fully expecting to hear he had a hairline fracture and needed a cast for a couple weeks. Instead, we got a call from the doctor saying he had a fracture and an infection and we needed to take him to the ER immediately. We spent about five hours in the ER as the doctors tried to figure out what was happening. By this time he had a fever and his bloodwork showed signs of infection, but they could not find a cause. They also were not sure there actually was a fracture. So, more x-rays and more tests. And nothing can prepare you for the fear of watching multiple doctors come in with confused looks asking the same questions over and over. Eventually, they consulted with specialists at children's hospitals in Seattle and Philadelphia and decided that there was likely a bone infection and possibly a fracture, and they wanted to do tests to rule out cancer and leukemia.
Nothing prepares you to hear words like that applied to your own child...
So, he was admitted and put on the strongest antibiotic available (through an iv) to treat the bone infection. The next morning, they were able to rule out cancer and leukemia, but not after a long and sleepless night. They are still a little confused about the infection. An orthopaedic surgeon said there is no fracture, just infection. The cause will likely never be known. Bacteria just somehow got in his bones and became infected.
So, his treatment: he will be in the hospital all week receiving antibiotics. If he responds well, he will come home early next week and continue taking strong oral antibiotics for three more weeks. There will be regular x-rays and bloodwork to test his progress. If he does not respond well, they will switch to another iv antibiotic that will require him to stay in the hospital for four additional weeks. And there is always the possibility that the problem is something completely different, and they will know that if he does not respond at all.
In the meantime, the pain in his foot has largely subsided, but his leg is very stiff and wobbly, and he can walk on it only with someone holding his hand. He has been poked countless times for iv's and blooddraws from his chubby little arms, and he has a long road to go. Each interaction with a needle leads to about 20-30 minutes of terrified crying and screaming that is really hard to handle. Otherwise, he is charming the nurses. After they do something like that, we ask him to tell them thank-you, and he sobs out a 'dank-you' that makes everyone feel pretty guilty for what they did to him! And last night, he pretty much slept through the night.
Obviously we did not see this coming. We were supposed to fly back to Philly Tuesday morning, and I am supposed to begin classes next week. But everything is on hold now. Susie and I are exhausted emotionally and physically, and are finding it hard to rest in this 'unknown' place where doctors are working out of pretty strong theories, but are not 100% sure of what is actually wrong. I am trying to rest in the simple truths of our faith - that God is sovereign and He is good - and I plead continually for His mercy upon our Calvin.
We appreciate your prayers for us and especially for Calvin.
| | |
| Get out your tissues. This is a sad one...
Our family experienced a great lesson in disappointment tonight. About a year ago, my parents introduced Simon to the Wiggles, If you do not have a toddler in your house, then you need to know that the Wiggles are world-famous among 2-4 year olds. They sing, dance, play music, do funny stuff, etc. They have it all, and they are some of the richest and most respected men in Australia. (Is that saying much?) We learned in early August that they were coming to Philadelphia in October, so Susie stayed up one night searching around online and found us a great price on tickets (still insanely expensive though). We bought them and filed them away for three months...until tonight.
For three months we have looked forward to this concert. We talked about it with Simon nearly every day, explained everything that was going to happen, etc. And Simon has talked about it endlessly. He planned it all out in his mind, and so we set the plan in action today. I took him to the store to pick out a rose for Dorothy the Dinosaur, who loves roses. We washed his Wiggle shirt twice today - the second time because he got goose poop on it (long story!) - and had all his clothes ready. Tonight, he got dressed, we packed a bag of snacks, put his guitar in its case (he was excited to take it), carefully picked up our flower, and walked to the train station. We took two trains to get to the Wachovia Center on the other side of Philadelphia, and we were 40 minutes early.
But then something started looking odd. There were large crowds of people arriving and lining up, but as far as we could see, Simon and Calvin were the only young children. There were a few young teenagers, but most of the crowd seemed pretty rough, and primarily male. It wasn't exactly the slice of the social pie we had anticipated sharing the Wiggles experience with. We glanced at our tickets and asked a parking attendant to point us to the Wachovia Arena, and he pointed at this building people were flocking toward. There are several large venues and arenas all clustered there, and things still weren't feeling right, so we stopped at the ticket office of the Wachovia Spectrum to make sure we were in the right place.
Long story short, we weren't. Turns out we had bought tickets to see the Wiggles at Wachovia Arena in Scranton (more than 2 hours away), not at Wachovia Center in Philadelphia. So instead of hundreds of excited toddlers, we were in the company of people attending one of two events: either a hockey match or a fight. But our tickets said Philadelphia, not Scranton, so I called and spent 45 minutes on hold with TicketMaster before I got answers. "Oh yes, your tickets say Philadelphia because the concert is in the Philadelphia market, not because it's in Philadelphia, and we have a no refund policy." I tried to be gracious, since our tickets said nothing about the location other than "Wachovia Arena, PHI," and they finally agreed to see if they could exchange them for a future Wiggles concert. We got back on the train and headed home with our guitar, rose, wiggles paraphernalia, and a toddler whose disappointment was only outmatched by that of his parents.
So disappointment - what an interesting thing. To be honest, I rarely feel it anymore. Why? I suppose disappointment is the result of high expectations that go unmet, and I rarely raise my expectations very high anymore. My pathetically small amount of counseling training tells me this is a defense mechanism. I have raised my expectations and been disappointed before, so I protect myself by not expecting great things. I guess I have come to a point of expecting little and enjoying an occasional surprise when things go better than that. So I have become pretty callous. Things roll off me - maybe I just don't care anymore. There's not much anyone can say or do that will truly hurt and disappoint me. I've been disappointed before - lots of times - and I don't care to feel it over and over. So I protect me, and I'm pretty darn good at it. I guess some would call it maturity. I'm not so sure.
But then along comes a three year old who hasn't yet been knocked around by life and who doesn't yet know not to get excited about things and to dream big and to expect great things. Granted, we're talking about the Wiggles here, but what a silly way for disappointment to be introduced into his life, into his little and precious heart and soul. If it were just me, I could walk away from this mistake and wish it had gone otherwise, but I would sleep soundly and not think much more about it. But then I look into his eyes, and how do you explain that mommy and daddy made a really slight mistake of disastrous consequence, and we're in the wrong place, and the Wiggles are 100 miles away, and there's no way we're going to make it, and we're so sorry, and...
And behind the eyes is confusion. Nothing but confusion. This makes no sense to him. We hoped, we dreamed, we anticipated...and now it won't happen? There is no category in his mind for thinking in terms of disappointment. Parents who fail. Things that go wrong. Money spent to no avail. Time traveled to the wrong place. These are brand new concepts. So as we ate our McDonald's dinner in a train station, all I could tell Simon over and over is that he was learning an important lesson in disappointment. But then, I'm not really sure what the lesson should be. Should it be that he never stop expecting big things, and may he always feel disappointment? Or should it be that he learn to guard himself so that he will never feel disappointed? Or is it something altogether different?
What is the lesson? And I don't know what to teach him because I'm not sure that I've learned the lesson properly myself. Maybe this is one of the blessings of being a parent. I have a profound responsibility to walk him through these lessons and to shape his mind and heart toward his God in all of this. And so I must walk in his shoes, shoes I have walked in many times before and have given up on and tossed them aside. In this case, they are shoes of expectation and longing, and shoes of disappointment. Left to myself, I may never feel these things again. But I feel them through my son. His disappointment and his confusion penetrate me deeply. And I sense in this moment an opportunity to re-learn some things about disappointment, about my faith, and especially about my God, and my hope and prayer is that this time around I will somehow learn something better.
I guess words fail me at this point, but I want something better for Simon, and that means I need something better for me. Should I dream more? Expect more? Should I open myself up to disappointment? How do I respond to God in all of this? As seems to always be the case, I have lots of questions and few answers.
That means this blog has little closure, but I need to go to bed. But first, I must end with the standard shout-out to the Seahawks. COME ON!!! THE SAINTS??? AT HOME??? NATIONALLY TELEVISED??? FIND SOME AMBITION!!! I guess maybe I still feel disappointment in some small ways...
| | |
| I think I have just logged a record for comments on my xanga blog. Thank you for all who read, and especially thank you to those who play my games.
So, the much anticipated answer to my question. What was the most popular book of the Bible throughout the church's first 1500 years of existence? There were some good guesses, and believe it or not, one of you is actually right!!! And the winner is...David Lester! That's right, Dave, you've won. The most popular book was the Song of Solomon!
GASP!!! Shock! Scandal! How? Well, let me make a few comments. First, as far as I know, this is not a scientifically derived answer, but the strong gut conclusion of some professors who spend a lot of time in church history stuff. Second - and I know you are thinking this - this is not because the church fathers were perverts. Why, then, was the Song of Solomon so popular? Well, think about this from the perspective of hermeneutics.
One of the things that came with the Reformation was not only a renewed passion for Scripture, but also a method for reading Scripture in a very literal and historical manner. Emphasis on the literal! Prior to the Reformation, Scriptures were taken literally, but there was also a freedom to understand Scripture allegorically, particularly when the literal interpretation didn't make much sense. So for 1500 years, the Song of Solomon was a beatiful, allegorical love story of Christ and the church. Pastors loved to preach it and write about it. Then along comes the Reformation (and Enlightenment, rationalism, etc.), and now we have a book in our Bibles that is about some horny dude chasing naked chicks in his garden. How many pastors do you think want to preach a sermon series on that? Maybe some have, but I'm sure it was the end of their career. So the Song of Solomon drifted away into obscurity.
Have you ever read it? Why not, if it is equally inspired as Romans? What do you think? Should we read it literally or allegorically?
By the way, welcome to my history of interpretation class. These are the kinds of questions we are kicking around, and boy is it interesting and stretching for this Grace Brethren, fundamentalist, dispensational, pre-trib, anti-sin (and sex?), literal, rational dude. Who says we have to ignore romantic books and passages about prostitutes, whores, murder, and anything else that makes us squirm? If there is a divine author, don't these texts have divine meaning too? Forget purpose-driven mumbo-jumbo. I want the theme of the next FGBC conference to be the Song of Solomon! SoS baby! (This is why I will never be asked to organize a Grace Brethren anything...)
Oh, and boo Seahawks. At least try to make it look like you want to win next time.
| | |
|
