Dave Update

The first brave leaves outside my window have already begun their pilgrimage toward the soil; they've given up their green without a sound, and slowly they're loosening their native bonds and waiting for that sudden moment of release. It won't be long before all the host of leaves follow in these fading steps-- before the skeletons of bare bark are left standing in the fragrance of this yearly sacrifice.

Fall: my twenty-sixth. I find it's the season with which I resonate most strongly--there's a strange hope about its dance toward death: an silent longing for rebirth--a longing which turns dreadful decay into a beautiful altar of love.

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If you have google earth (pretty much the coolest program out there), and plug in 142 Essex Street, South Hamilton, MA, you'll see the earth tilt and turn and the camera will zoom in toward the northeastern coast of the United States. You'll see Long Island and Cape Cod grow and disappear below view, then northern Boston and Cape Ann, and then you're all inland with streets, clusters of trees, and clearings. When you stop, you're hovered just to the right of Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary's main entrance. The campus is to the North. A small road drifts up past a rectangular pond and splits into a circuit around the "great field" where we play soccer and Ultimate Frisbee. The field is shaped like a thin pear; my apartment is up where the imaginary stem would be. To the west (up on top of the hill), you'll see the administrative and academic buildings.

So that's my little world. Any of you are welcome any time.

This coming week is reading week, so classes are off and we're all trying to catch up on papers and readings and so on. I'm taking four classes: Biblical Hebrew I, Systematic Theology I, Church to the Reformation (History), and The World Mission of the Church (Missions). It's been interesting to go over in the classroom all the material that we've discussed on the blog (things like Tradition and Scripture, Truth and Method, Love and Presence). As you can imagine, the contours of the conversation are quite different here. I hope we're not finished talking about these things; they're important.

That's what goes on up on the hill, down in the apartment the world's a bit different. Andrew's now 14 weeks old. He's talking all the time (though I have no idea what he's saying), and laughing. I love it when he laughs; its one of the most incredible feelings in the world when he's laughing and I'm laughing and we're simply enjoying the beauty of this relationship that God is giving to us.

The major bummer has been that I've been unable to find a part-time job around here. That's been hard. It's like holding your screaming and inconsolable infant: you know that there is a terminus--it will end--but that doesnt exactly make it less horrible.

OK, maybe it's not that bad, but it's not fun not being able to get the work you want.


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As you might imagine, it's taken a few sittings throughout the day to finish this little update. It's dark outside now, humid and warm and dark. Another day has passed, another day will come. My body's tired and achy--my mind is warn and fading--sleep comes soon, and with it: the grace of letting go of my weary mental grip on this massive world.