A while ago, Seth’s best friend gifted him with a stack of old issues of Credenda Agenda, a magazine put out by Doug Wilson and friends (and family). What a nice gift. We’re still working our way through those, sharpening our brains and hearts with thoughtful words, some new to us, some old. One issue was entitled “Wood.” Every article was somehow related to wood: the article written by Doug’s wife Nancy on the family table (theirs was pine, by the way), the article on music had to do with wood, another theological article on the cross…it was kind of neat seeing how they tied all these different categories of thought into the subject of wood.
Then there was the issue entitled “On the Subject of Cheese.” Um, some of those articles were a stretch. I do get what they’re trying to do—all knowledge is related in some way, and Christ is Lord over everything, and all, but, cheese?
This last year has been anything but “easy cheesy” for us. Last year this time, I was staying up late nights to help a new single mother from a different culture deal with her colicky baby—in the newly remodeled homeschool room that I never envisioned being used immediately for that purpose. This was followed by a 10-day stint myself as a single mom, as Seth was gone; he came back with an international visit by a family member. We took another trip, preceded by a bad leg break for my two-year old. After that I had a miscarriage.
Then came the momentous attack on our home, followed by two different exhausting international trips (they were also nice!), a new troubled pregnancy, a rushed move to a new-to-us but not-as-nice house, a horrendous arm break for my 7-year old, ministry changes, many ministerial discouragements, a new-to-us car and puppies, and more.
For a while after the attack, I was unable to even think about blogging. When you’ve had a gun pointed at your head and at your child’s head, it seems sacrilegiously unimportant to spell out the contrasts between two spelling curricula. I couldn’t even bring myself to read books (my hobby). No books seemed important enough to engage my attention, yet none seemed unimportant enough to take my mind off of our dilemma.
On occasion that issue title “On the Subject of Cheese” came to mind, chewing on the edges of my comfort like the mice over here chewed on our bookshelf (yes, a bookshelf!) Finally I dished out a couple of my thoughts on the subject of “the subject of cheese” to Seth—went something like this:
Me: “You know—you really have to have peace to be able to write a whole issue on the subject of cheese.”
Me: “You know—that issue by Doug Wilson, where the whole thing was about cheese? You can tell he’s not a missionary. You really have to have a lot of time, and PEACE, to be able to write like that. And nothing else more immediate to write about, either.”
I’m not trying to pick on Wilson. I’m trying to point out why I haven’t been writing lately, and why I still may be spotty for a while. I told my mom that I felt like I was living in a state of triage, assessing where urgent care was needed most. Even without the trauma of our last year, a missionary lives closer to the battlefield, closer to the smell of gun smoke, the cries of the wounded and dying, and the cares of immense spiritual struggles in others who don’t care for themselves.
I guess the Baptists have always tended that way—running for their lives, manuscripts being burned along with their martyrs’ bodies, unable to have enough peace to write down their thoughts. Doesn’t mean they didn’t think them. Bunyan’s writings came from his jail cell.
Anyway, when you’re in that state of the urgent and necessary, it seems really unimportant to write, especially when you doubt that you ever had anything worthwhile to say at all. When there is so much to be done, and only so much of “mom” to give to your scared, needy children, and the only constancy in your life is upheaval, well, the last thing on your mind is how to relate a theology of family to cheese.
It takes time to write well. It takes peace to write thoughtfully about minute details under Christ’s sovereignty. I’m glad someone has both; I haven’t. When I do, and when I can, I will enjoy writing again.