When Parents Ask the Wrong Questions « scientia et sapientia.
This is an excellent post by Marc Cortez. I reposted it on Facebook while we were traveling this week, but wanted it to get out to any larger audience possible.
Category: spiritual
Silence
Al Mohler has a good post today on Silence and development.
I know people who can’t ever be quiet – well I’ve been working with teens for ages – and I don’t understand that. I’m one that needs some quiet time during the day. I don’t have to have TV’s, radios, music on. I like silence.
But I think what he said (and quoted) fits in with what I’ve seen in students today. They have to have answers. If I ever said, “Think about it for a few minutes,” or paused to formulate a decent answer myself, someone (another student) jumped right in. They can’t stand 1) the silence and 2) pondering anything. I hadn’t thought before that the two go hand in hand. One is necessary for the other.
Reading Chapter 1 of Jesus Among the Other gods
I started this book yesterday with my Bible classes. They are amazingly interested. We hit pluralism and Deepak Chopra. You could almost see some of their eyes get big. Some of them had never heard of such. Of course some also wanted to know what was wrong with karma. Interesting day.
crawling in that old hole and pulling it in after you
I do not know what God is teaching me. I must be blind. What I do know is it is painful and it is humiliating. I’m taking a sick day tomorrow.
Introvert or Extrovert
For years, I thought I was an introvert. Really! People who know me now are shocked to hear this. I was insecure. I was quiet. I did have bursts of occasional loudness, but they were few and far between. I was easily intimidated. On the Meyers-Briggs, I was a high I. I have the tests to prove it. I can pull them out for you.
The fact of the matter is that I’m not an introvert. I’m an extrovert and a fairly high one at that! Imagine what it took to squelch a social being, a communicator, the teacher who acts out columns, the one not afraid to go to the headmaster and say, “what?” into a wall flower, a child afraid to peep, with few friends.
When I say my memories began with Ron, I mean my very life began with Ron. He prodded me, he poked me, he pushed me. He made me realize that I am loved and I realized then that God probably really loved me too and that the commitment I’d made to Him years ago wasn’t a sham like the life my family had always lived, but it could be real and sustaining like my life with Ron was. The two events are intertwined. Rededication and meeting Ron.
Slowly, this self-imposed shell fell away.
Jack Of All Trades 