Kathryn Elizabeth's World Debut

Katie finally joined us Thursday, the 9th, at 7:13 pm. There was considerable drama early on, and she almost had to be flown to Salt Lake with lung problems (two pneumothoraxes and a good deal of gunk sucked down), but she rallied, pulled herself together (literally), and after a couple speed bumps, she is now healthy as a horse. Tough girl.


But enough about that, you say. On to the pictures!

Sarah being very brave right before they induced her. I am so proud of her for coming through it so well.

Doesn't she look like a fighter pilot? I think she looks like a fighter pilot.

Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated...

Katie's first view of the world was from inside an oxygen mask.

It was almost a full day before we finally got to hold her. Torture for all of us!

Ah, ain't she purdy?

Happy girls

Having a snooze with dad at the hospital

"WARNING: USE OF THIS PUMP IN A MANNER INCONSISTANT WITH THE USES DESCRIBED IN THIS MANUAL MAY RESULT IN BODILY INJURY."

We're outta here!!!

Katie and dad in their Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes.

Veni. Vidi. Vici.

Ladies and Gentlemen, as of 8:30 this morning it is official: I have completed and passed all necessary work to recieve a Master of Education Degree in Curriculum and Instruction (Technology).

Thank you. Thank you. There will be refreshments in the lobby.

I will not attempt to describe the tribulation this program has caused over the past two years for an active, outdoorsy person such as myself, nor the havoc it has wrought upon my bowhunting, rock-climbing, back-packing, and thowing-sticks-for-the-dog careers. It is too horrifying to put into words.

But no matter. It is over. Done. I never have to do this again.

The following video perfectly captures my feelings concerning this triumph over the nefarious forces of Acadamia: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGa70tVYVKo

The world is shiney and new again. Real life awaits. Bring on the mountains. Bring on the world. Bring on the baby. I'm ready.

Certainty and Meaning

The Lord of Hosts is on our side.
The God of Jacob is our refuge.
--Psalm 46

Bill, my boss at school, has a sign in his office, attributed to some really smart person. It says "The need for certainty interferes with the search for meaning" (my paraphrase; I can't remember the exact words).

I have thought a lot about that saying, and I think it contains a lot of truth. Dogma is often the enemy of meaning. We pick through the teachings of Jesus and his followers with a fine comb, analyzing every word and tense, trying to find rules and regulations to impose and/or follow, often where none was intended. In the process, we utterly miss the bigger meaning of the teaching in question. In almost all of Jesus' teaching, the emphasis is on the internal, not the external. But we tend to look for certainty in practice, often at the expense of the true meaning.

This is nothing new, of course: Jesus once accused the religious leaders of his day of "straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel"--what a great mental image.

The problem with Bill's saying, though, is it is only partially true. Certainty is important, too; in fact I don’t think you can have one without the other. Through some extensive research, I have become convinced of the physical reality of Jesus' resurrection and other miracles. Some say it doesn’t matter whether Jesus’ resurrection was physical or just spiritual. But it does to me. Here's why:

I have often struggled with the problem of suffering in this world, especially among innocent children. Twice in my life I have visited pediatric hospitals; in both cases I was a wreck for days afterwards. On a daily basis I come into contact with little kids who have experienced things no little kids should even have to know about. Some of these kids just don’t seem to have a chance. Attempts to find meaning in the mutilation or death of a child come across as hollow at best. More often such attempts are downright insulting.

But that is where certainty becomes important. I am certain that God is powerful, just, and merciful, and that he conquered death through Jesus. And that certainty is enough. I don't have to impose some sort of trite "meaning" on something that really just doesn't make sense. I can seek for a meaning, but in the end I might not find it, and that is alright (if not exactly comfortable). I do not need to articulate what God himself has not articulated. I just need to trust God to be who I know him to be. It is enough that HE is all-knowing. I don't have to be.

Isn’t that what Psalm 46 is getting at? Be still (stop struggling) and know that he is God; trust him even when he is hidden and things are scary. Also Hebrews 11. All those people accomplished great things, but died—often in horrifying ways--without seeing God's greater purpose. They trusted him.

And of course the entire book of Job, especially 38 through 42:6. Job's friends very comfortably found meaning in Job's suffering, explaining it away in a series of well-reasoned arguments. Job, meantime, is not at peace because it doesn’t make sense, and his friends' arguments don't reconcile with what he knows to be true. In the end, confused, conflicted Job was vindicated as the one who was right. But God never did explain himself--he just showed who he was and told Job to trust him.

That's one reason that the certainty of Jesus' resurrection is important to me. It shows, in a very real way, who God is and what he is up to in the world. And being certain of that, I can be OK letting some other things go. In my certainty of God’s goodness, I find true meaning. I can be still, and know that He is God.

All-You-Can-Eat Crab at the Oxbow

You know it has been a truly amazing dinner when you have to wipe butter off your glasses before you can drive home.

TW

Valentine's Vagabonds

I have never much cared for valentines day. I always felt like the only people who profit from valentines day (other than the card, choco, and jewelry companies) are ladies who have attached themselves to clods too unromantic to do anything special the rest of the year. Besides, when you are single it stinks intensely having a whole day set aside to remind you of what you're missing. My lovely wife is of another opinion, however, so I have mellowed somewhat, especially this year. Any excuse to celebrate and give gifts can't be entirely bad, and at worst today is as good as any other.

All that said, we had an almost-perfect day today. Around mid-morning we got in my trusty blue 4-wheel-drive steed to do some exploring. Before pulling out of the driveway, I presented Sarah with her valentine present: A "Lander Nordic Skiing" tshirt. We are expecting a youngster in June, and Sarah has been a bit saddened about all the things pregnancy has taken away: Things like intense outdoor activity, ability to sleep comfortably, all that sort of thing. This shirt served as a reminder of better times to come.

Then we hit the trail. We had set aside this day to explore several roads which we had been meaning to check out for a long time. After a brief trip down Hidden Valley Road (yes, there are several Ranches there, in case you're wondering), we spent most of the day exploring the west shore of Boysen Reservoir, one of the bigger lakes in Wyoming which is completely surrounded by sagebrush desert and mountain ranges. Truly fascinating country, especially in winter when the lake is frozen solid and the fellow visitors are minimal.

Once we got as far as we could go on the roads, we got down to the business of relaxation, with a couple nice walks on the frozen beach, scrambling about in the blissfully rattlesnake-free rock formations, some snuggling and a nap in the back of the truck (do not attempt this in Wyoming Winter without the proper equipment and training), and lots of staring in awe at the lake and the mountains.

Having had our fill of the lake, we headed off toward our next planned destination, a tiny ranching town nearby called Pavillion, where there was rumored to be a good burgers-and-steaks restaurant. Avoiding the easy highway route, we found ourselves barreling west down Sand Mesa Road, a dirt track through some beautiful ranching country which is swarming with wildlife--big muley bucks, antelope, and thousands upon thousands of ducks and geese. All with the Owl Creek Mountains towering on the right hand, and the Wind River Range on the left.

There are worse ways to drive to dinner.

We finally got to the chosen restaurant and were surprised to be asked if we had a reservation. It is Valentine's day, of course, but this is a town of 150 people, for crying out loud! Having been found lacking, we were nicely seated at the bar, only to find that the normal burgers and steaks menu had been replaced with a "Special Valentines Menu" of lobster tails, prime rib, and lots of stuff we couldn't pronounce. Cheapest thing on the menu was $25; most things were over $30. Well, our experience has been that usually restaurants that charge that much really shouldn't.

So, we got back on the road, and soon found ourselves at the Midvale Bar and Grill. Midvale is a town on the maps only--in real life it's a loose collection of farm houses without so much as a Mormon Church. But they do have a bar and grill, and generally these little middle-of-nowhere places really put on the chow; if they didn't, they wouldn't stay around long since they rely on local business. Here we found the menu (and the prices) more to our taste: A good ribeye, potato, beans, grilled bread, and a good salad. Since cigarette smoke really sets off asthma, the friendly patrons directed us through the bar into the non-smoking dining room, which--get this--we had all to ourselves.

Now, how many valentines days do you get to eat steak with your sweetie, in a dining room all to yourselves, without so much as making a reservation or even knowing where you are going?

You can have the fancy chocolates and flowers and all that stuff. Those things are all well and good, but if that's all there is, it wears thin pretty fast. Spending some time just enjoying the world with the person you love--that's what romance is all about in my book.

Sorry for the long post. Just couldn't decide what to leave out.
Good night--
Tom

January Fly Fishing

My dad blessed me with a new fly rod for Christmas, and I just couldn't wait until summer to try it out. So this past Saturday saw me embarking on the first fly fishing trip of 09 down at Wind River Canyon, a fabled tail water where legend has it that three to five pound rainbows and browns are there to be taken.

The canyon was beautiful under a light dusting of snow as I bundled up in multiple layers, bag-lady style, complete with fingerless rag wool gloves, and hit the river.

I had never flyfished in the winter before, and I have to say it has its pros and cons. Most of the positives involved things that were missing: there was nobody else on the river except a couple of bait fishermen a quartermile downstream who were gone by the time I geared up. Also, not a rattlesnake in sight. No bugs, either, except for a few hardy midges scooting along on the surface of the river.

Cons? Well, it was cold. Really cold. I can put up with a good bit of cold, but when the guides on my rod started clogging up with ice, it's hard to cast. Hard to navigate, too, with the steep banks frozen and dusted with snow. I did manage to stay out of the river, though, which brings me to another disadvantage to winter fly fishing: If I do this much, I am going to have to invest in a pair of waders. The Wind is a fair sized river by Wyoming standards, and most of the good holes are out of reach from the bank, but it's just to chilly to get in the water this time of year.

The result? Nothing. Skunked. Whatever the legendary five pound rainbows and browns of the Wind River were hungry for, it was not clumsily presented green wooly buggers or bead head hare's ears.

But I'll be back.

Maybe after it warms up a bit.

My sphere of influence grows...

CDBaby, the company which sells my CD's online (and a whopping dozen of them I've sold on line so far!), informed me yesterday that someone in Hawaii had ordered my latest offering. I am intensely curious who in Honolulu would know I exist, let alone pay good money for a CD. Unfortunately, the individual in question chose to remain anonymous, so my curiosity remains unsatisfied.

No matter. My CD's are now halfway across the Pacific. My goal of world domination seems just a little closer.

*