How, umm . . . particular I am

Yes, that's the word: particular. I couldn't possibly mean that increasingly popular adjective that pertains to the "posterior opening of the alimentary canal," which is of course also found in the last four letters of its definition.

There's a puzzle that I do almost every day because it only takes about a minute. The objective is to find four words in a 6x6 letter grid that wind through the grid from each edge to the opposite edge. Acceptable solutions are often not unique; there can be more than one way to wind through the puzzle to make the same word. However, I have found that, when this is the case, there has always been one solution that doesn't reuse any letter in the grid twice. The same letter might occupy adjacent or diagonal spots in the grid that will both allow the formation of a given answer, but one of those spots will be needed for another answer in another direction, for which the other will not work. The puzzle doesn't require that grid letters be used only once, or award extra points for finding the solution that doesn't reuse any of them, but it just seems to me that the best solution is the one that doesn't use any grid letter more than once. Sometimes there are multiple words that could use alternate paths through the grid . . .

Oh, I've spent too much time on this.  Okay.  Okay.

Anal.

To sum up . . .

. . . a previous post: we're supposed to be continually dying to our self, not throwing our self a never-ending wake.

Today's word

brown study \BROWN-STUD-ee\ - a state of serious absorption or abstraction

Or: the state in which my wife might suggest that I live. I've certainly heard this term before, but wouldn't have been able to give the definition.

Examples of why

We are on a journey that can be described in various ways, and our belief system makes a profound impact on how we are going to approach it.  If we believe that this life is all there is, then we are on a journey from birth to death, and we need to maximize our experiences of life and love along the way so as to miss out on as little as possible and make the biggest difference that we can.

Christian faith brings some similarities, but profound differences. One similarity can be found in the parable of the talents: we are clearly to make the most of what is entrusted to our care. However, even the "maximizing" that's implied there is very different from that of the previous approach, which tends to be for the benefit of our own experience, glory and posterity.

Considering the differences in believers' vs. unbelievers' understanding of the nature of our journey illustrates even greater differences. Rather than traveling from birth to death, Christians believe the opposite: we're traveling from death to life. This world offers only the former, and we believe that Jesus Christ alone delivers the latter. This provides a completely different scale by which to measure every experience opportunity along our way: will this thing bring me and others closer to eternal life in Christ, or move us further away? We also express the transformation as being from darkness to light; from egocentrism to real, self-sacrificing love; from sinfulness to holiness, from slavery to freedom; from self to the very image of Christ. But however we view the journey, we are to have a clear vision that where we are headed is incomparably better than what we have left behind. This becomes a matter of trusting in God, and the scriptures give us several illustrations of what happens when we long for what is behind us:

When God spared Lot's family from the destruction of Sodom, his wife could not resist the temptation to look back on the home they had left. BTW: now there's a scripture passage that I have a hard time interpreting literally. Still, the image is clear: we must trust in God that the way he sets before us is better than the way we have left.

When the children of Israel grumbled against the Lord and Moses for bringing them out of Egypt because of their lack of food and drink, they were set upon by seraph serpents, from which the Lord delivered them by means of a bronze serpent lifted up on a pole. Jesus himself referred to this as a presaging of his crucifixion. Likewise, the people were chided at Massah and Meribah even as the Lord provided the water they truly needed. (etc.)

Jesus said that whoever sets their hand to the plow and looks back is unfit for the kingdom of heaven.  As a practical guideline: I suppose it's nigh impossible to plow a straight row while looking backwards.

All of these examples illustrate why it is counter-productive -- even useless -- to dwell on the things we've been called to lay down. If we keep score of such things in our relationships, we will impede our loving and growing together. If we cling to parts of ourselves that we are to shed, we will never be transformed beyond ourselves.

I should stop . . .

. . . giving so much thought to parts of myself that I'm called to lay down. It's counterproductive. This is even  -- maybe especially -- true regarding what I've only discovered and allowed myself to consider about myself more recently and that I can't really talk about with anyone. (Well, I could probably pay a therapist again, but that would open another can of worms or two.)

Obsession is inevitably hurtful to the one obsessing and to the people he (or she) loves. Even though the territory between denial and obsession is probably far smaller, there is nonetheless a border somewhere between awareness and obsession. I'm not sure exactly where that line lies, but I imagine it's easy to wander close to the latter without being very aware of the danger one is in until one has crossed over, and once across there is no easy means of returning. I also suspect that, no matter how fascinating and exciting the uncharted land between the two might be, wandering around in it is far more perilous alone than it would be with a trustworthy guide who shares the same destination, who values the same aspects of the journey, to get there. And when the person who is supposed to serve as that guide has expressed utter disdain for the territory in question . . . well, I can't blame her for that. It's a scary land. But as for potentially wandering close to obsession on my own, some places are just destructive by nature, and the more appealing they may seem the better it is for the solo traveler to stay far from them. Though the world screams that self-discovery is the ultimate goal and self-denial is futile, I will instead trust that my Shepherd will provide my every true need.

This is probably not too cryptic, but nonetheless I won't make it any more plain.

Why AP writers don't give their names

Nor editors, for that matter:

Doubront lasted just 3 2/3 innings, giving up seven hits and four runs, snapping Boston's streak of a starter allowing three runs or fewer at 11 games. It matched the longest by the team since 1988. The previous best was 12 in 1915. - "Associated Press"

Now, I certainly make mistakes in writing, but I'm not being published on websites and newspapers throughout the country, and this one is a doozy. My limited readership is sure to spot all the flaws without any help from me, but it's my rant, so here I go.

• If the "previous best" was 12, it's still the "current best," not the "previous best." 
• If this "current best" happened in 1915, and hasn't happened since, then this matched the longest by the team since 1915, not merely since 1988. 
• Speaking of which, did this streak match the team's best since 1988, or more likely, was this one their best such since 1988? (and . . . )
• Is the writer suggesting that the last such streak of 11 games happen in 1988?

Seriously, uncredited writer: find a job you're qualified to do.

The human condition

For as long as I can remember, I have not been surprised to discover the horrifically worst in others. As a junior or senior in high school, when a kid who some of us knew from the chess club was accused of killing a child in his neighborhood, many of my friends rushed to form a "defense fund" in support of him. I joined from the inertia of our friendship, not from being convinced as so many of my peers were that he could never have done it. When his parents asked us to stop, my friends resisted their request, but I was quick to accede.

I later lamented that this whole incident represented a loss of innocence - or at least naivete - for us. But the truth is that mine was already gone. This was pre-that-Thanksgiving, but I'd already experienced enough brokenness and secrets that, while our depravity occasionally horrifies me, it almost never surprises me.