A Boy on a Boat in the Universe

One of the books I have enjoyed reading recently is Joseph O'Neill's Netherland. Essentially, it is the story of the strange friendship between two men from different cultures in New York. The novel tells its story through a series of flashbacks. At one point, the narrator speaks of a time in his boyhood when he was taken fishing by his uncles. As night descended, he remembered being in a boat and looking up at the heavens to see myriads and myriads of stars, giving him the feeling that he was merely "a boy on a boat in the universe." Who among us has not also shared that same experience at various times in our lives, yet the experience always raises questions about our identity and our purpose.

Unbelievers would say that we are merely pawns in some large, yet to be understood universe. Since we are such tiny parts of it, we cannot possibly believe in a personal God who actually cares about us and our needs.

Evangelical Christians, however, believe the Bible when it tells us that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Psalm 139: 14) in His image. The following passage tells us that He knew us and loved us from the very beginning of our creation: "Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me." Evangelicals believe that God has a wonderful and special plan for each of our lives.

Like most thinkers in the universe, the story I choose to believe is the latter. My rationale is simple: if God can create a universe as vast as the one in which we are all a part, why can He not also design us to be people with which he can personally communicate, protect, and shelter? Perhaps the idea can best be represented by Manet's painting of The Grand Canal, Venice in which the boatman almost blends into the background of the buildings behind, yet his presence still guides the path of the boat through the water.

Softly and Tenderly

I have been thinking about conflict resolution this week after seeing an interview with Rosie O'Donnell on television recently. When asked by the interviewer to reflect upon her recent very public spats with Donald Trump and co-host on The View, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, she basically said she had learned that shouting never accomplishes anything since people don't listen. The best way to convey one's point, she said, was to speak softly and to use reason in an argument. For Rosie, that was quite a bit of self insight and growth I believe. I wish now that others could gain the same self-awareness.

Growing up with a mother who was a shouter, I can also testify that her style of communication was truly ineffective. I simply turned off and often retreated into a closet to hide for a few hours until peace in the house was restored. It is easy for one generation to lead another generation into the same forms of behavior. I have learned, unfortunately late in my life, that I could simply speak softly and tenderly in order to make my point. I am trying to convince my grandchildren, ages six and ten, that the cycle of shouting at one another can also be broken.

It almost seems this week that even the Republicans are beginning to also understand this lesson. After a lot of initial shouting about the nomination of Hispanic Sonia Sotomayor for the position of Supreme Court Justice, they are beginning to tone down their arguments and speak in reaonable voices. They have now discovered, after initially jumping to several wrong conclusions since they did not read her record, that she might indeed be a friend on the abortion issue since she is a Catholic.

Loud voices reflect immaturity; a soft answer can indeed turn away wrath.

Death of a Princess

I remember Ciera as a beautiful young girl with dark hair and dark eyes. Her family background had been a bit rough. At the time I met her she was seven years old, and her single mother had planned to marry a young friend of our family. From the very beginning of her life it seems, she had a dream--to grow up and meet Prince Charming, have children, and have a happy life. She frequently participated in beauty contests as a young girl with all the frills in dress, makeup, and behavior on the runway that is expected. Her dream ended last week when, at the age of twenty, her boyfriend broke down the bedroom door of the place they shared and shot her two times. She was nine months pregnant with a baby boy. The father then turned the gun on himself and committed suicide. It was another reminder to me that fairy tales rarely come true.

Once more I find myself conflicted about the freely available guns that we have access to in America. We all know that relationships can be volatile, and I have never been quite convinced that having guns for protection outweighs the possibility of gun violence within the home from arguments, from accidents related to cleaning, from children finding guns within the home, and so on. I think, of course, that we need to keep the conversation going regarding gun control issues.

Our family will likely never know the full story behind Ciera's death. We know that she argued a lot with the people who were close to her. We don't know if she felt she had really found her Prince Charming, or if she was just anxious to make her dream seem to come true. We don't know how her boyfriend felt about becoming a father while still unmarried. Unfortunately, we do know that murder-suicides are much more common than we would hope.

Tomorrow we will attend Ciera's funeral. Our thoughts and prayers will be with her extended family. We hear that she will be buried with her child in her arms. Will we ever be able to stop violence to women who somehow transgress a man's expectations?