We’ve moved back, sort of.

We’re back in Downey, but not actually moved in. House ready in about two weeks.

Last round of dissertation edits about to be completed, and will in fact be completed sometime this week if they stop trying to murder me with their heinousness. Let me know if you want a bound copy, which should run about $65. On second thought, you can just have my copy.

Off for a bike ride, if it’s cooled off into the low 100’s finally. Not sure to where. I’ve got a lock for bike now, and the world is my 2-wheeled-vehicle-accessible oyster.

Just listening to Lady Marmalade on youtube and playing Mexican Train dominoes online (thanks a lot Andrew) thinking I should pack some more. Just found out M. Ferrulli is going to Morocco. First of all, holy crap. Second of all, cool. Salaam Aleykum, my man (phonetic spelling–don’t hassle me). Which reminds me…

I’m sharing an office with a coworker the other day when I turn and look at her computer screen, and her gmail page is displaying an email from Danielle Ferrulli. I check to make sure my computer didn’t get somehow transported to her desk, reassure myself there is likely to be only one Danielle Ferrulli in the world, and then recall that my coworker is an ASU grad. And for a moment I had that weird the-universe-is-tiny feeling, and then I remembered how much I miss the Ferrullis. So Mike, enjoy the trip and may the power, grace and love of the Spirit of the Most Holy God be lavished upon you so that your work may be to His glory. We pray for your openness to learn and a safe return.

Anyway, Sunday is unpack-the-moving-truck-at-a-storage-facility-day if anyone wants to come party it up. Any by party it up, I mean move heavy boxes.

…and happy b-day to sister Grace.

We’re moving. Again. I just started packing and have already run out of (a meager supply of) boxes due to the enormous number of books I own. Damn books. They are a labor of love.

We’ll be in town this weekend, and then back to SD for more packing, and finally moving on the 12th. Just in case you were wondering, we are desperate for assistance. It took me two weeks with help to pack up all this crap last time. Now I’m trying to do it alone in one week.

Today is essentially the last day of internship. One patient hour and one supervision hour scheduled, and all I have left to do from here on out is show up to parties.

Which means today is also essentially the last day of my graduate school career. Which is nice, but I don’t want to think about it too much or I’m fairly certain I’d give even these final few paltry hours the finger and go to the beach.

I will then begin celebrating my new freedom by packing (always a pleasure) and perhaps a surf morning on Sunday (may even get my lazy behind wet this time).

I’m gradufied. Thanks to the friends and family who attended hooding and ceremony and dinner. I had a great weekend, and the remaining days of internship/grad school are racing by. I’d post some pictures of the weekend, but this site is anonymous, and besides, I didn’t take any pictures. I’ll leave it to the brothers.

Had the first perfect peach of the season today. It perfectly complimented my senioritis. Summer is coming.

You should always have a dollar, because you never know when you’re gonna want a Snickers bar.

–Ray Wallace

Jesus used to hang out by lakes a lot. And who can blame him? Middle of the palestinian desert. About a thousand degrees. Whether you were a fisherman or not, I imagine the Sea of Galilee would’ve been the place to be on a hot first century day.

In addition to liking lakes, Jesus also had a predilection for making a point, often in a none too straightforward way. He’s out one day in a boat with Simon (soon-to-be-Peter), and Simon’s probably been talking. Again. This time he’s complaining about the fishing. Empty nets. Waste of a day. Not a single catch.

So Jesus grins and says, “Uh, let’s pull out a bit farther, into deeper water. Then try putting the nets out again. Who knows.”

And in his typical fashion, Simon says, “Master. You are aware we haven’t caught anything. All day. Not one Galilean fish. Zero. Zilch. And I’ve never caught anything this late in the day in a lifetime of fishing this lake, BUT, since you say so, I’m going to sail all the way out, and put my nets all the way down again, cuz hey, you say I should.”

The smugness melts somewhere around the moment when a huge haul of fish almost sinks the boat. And in true Peter fashion, he is then genuinely astonished, and humbles himself before Jesus, kneeling and saying, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!”

I think he meant what he said when he told the man he had so recently called “Master” to leave him. And Jesus knew he meant it, and he knew why.

Then Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid…”

Whether it’s our first brush with God or our hundredth, fear is a sensible reaction. The God of the Universe can playfully commandeer your fishing boat or tap you on the shoulder and ask if perhaps you wouldn’t like to travel halfway round the world for him and suddenly life shifts. Which is why maybe faith and terror and joy are the same thing sometime. Peter had religical words, claimed to be a sinner and maybe hoped to be off the hook, but Jesus saw his heart, comforted it, and offered instead to let Peter live the rest of his earthly days engaged in the most radical adventure ever conceived by God or man.

He was human to be afraid. He was wise to follow.

Then Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will catch men.” So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him.

In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the LORD sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.

Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly.

And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory. Isa 6:1-3

Holy, holy, holy. In this hymn, the Hebrew word qadhosh is translated into the latin sanctus, or holy. And what does it mean to be holy? That which must be preserved whole or intact, that cannot be transgressed or violated. That which is set apart, and consecrated for a specific purpose. That which is bound, protected and ordained by oath.

And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul. Gen 2:7

That which animates us is the very breath of God, and to treat life as a thing of low value, is to treat God–his spirit, and his gift of life–as a thing of low value.

But so what? How does this inform daily life? Jason raises the issue of blood donation, sperm donation, buying and selling human ova. How does the Judeo-Christian concept of holiness, or sanctity, impact our view of the treatment of life in these and other such situations?

which in English means, “I believe in order that I may understand.” (St. Augustine)

I’ve been researching latin phrases in order that I might find something suitable for a graduation gift Paul is preparing for me: a personalized embosser which would allow me to identify all the books in my library as mine. The above quote, while not fit for a library embosser, is an interesting one. It represents St. Augustine’s general philosophic approach, namely, that it is faith which is the gateway to understanding, and not the reverse. And perhaps a key consideration here is one’s definition of faith. Someone more learned than I might possibly wish to summarize Augustine’s particular definition of faith, but my own definition is something like ‘trust in action.’ (My college professors would have me remember that the word for faith (’pistis’) is in fact a verb). In my own life, understanding has so often followed, rather than preceded, trust/faith, that I confess I must agree with Augustine. Insight into God’s purposes comes, when it does come, often long after the initial trusting step. As Doug once suggested to me, God’s will is primarily discerned in hindsight, and it is a gift to be able to perceive it, but a trial to await perception.

Just the sort of thoughts inspired by coming to the end of a journey (and Diner conversations with Robert).