In fairness, there only seemed to be a few boors who were cheering at the thought of leaving the uninsured to die without medical care.  There was a good deal more audience support for Rep. Paul’s suggestion that neighbors, friends and churches would pay for care in the absence of government assistance.  That might be true in Paul’s case, and in the case of most of us reading this post.  But, what about those without such a safety net? 

I guess that’s why the “virtue of selfishness” espoused in Ayn Rand’s writings seems to resonate more with this crowd than do the teachings of Jesus – despite their claims to the contrary.  While they may not want it taught in schools, it looks like they are rather fond of Darwin’s idea that only the strong will (should?) survive.

The basketball arena was filled with orange and  blue-clad fans large and small, most clutching a team poster, football, helmet or other item to be autographed by the players of their choice. 

The players were all seated at tables surrounding the floor, each armed with a silver Sharpie marker and no doubt thankful to have a couple of hours away from the practice field.  Fans who had a particular player in mind could find them fairly easily; they were sitting in numerical jersey order.  Will’s goal was just to get as many autographs as he could, and we arrived early enough that at first he didn’t have any trouble finding players who were ready and willing to scribble their name and number on his poster.

It wasn’t long, though, before the crowds were in full force and there weren’t many easy targets.  Some of the star players had long lines of fans waiting their turn. 

Will soon found that his small size could be used to his advantage in working his way toward the players’ tables.  

His instructions from me were to be polite and not cut in front of anybody, but to stand his ground at the same time.  It was a great teaching moment for Assertiveness 101!

The crowd was an interesting mix.  There were plenty of kids, which I expected.   

I was surprised, though, by the number of adults who were there, working their way through the crowd to score the signatures of their favorite players.   I’m sure that some of them were collecting the autographs on behalf of their kids.  Many, though, were clearly after their own treasured souvenirs. 

These folks do realize that these players, while they are clearly talented, dedicated, and often quite impressive physical specimens, are still 18-22 year olds who are just a few years removed from getting their driver’s licenses and attending their high school proms, right?

Anyway - it was a successful outing for Will.  He wound up with several dozen autographs on his poster,  

including that of Cav Man himself.  Will asked him whether his sword is real, and was quite impressed to learn that it is!

The highlight of the afternoon, though, was when one of the players asked Will for HIS autograph before agreeing to sign his poster.  Guess who has a new favorite player? 

The same may be said for political philosophies. Considered in the abstract, some of the writings of Karl Marx or (on the other end of the spectrum) Ayn Rand might resonate – but putting them into practice leads to disaster. Moving to less extreme examples, the talking points spouted by those on either side of the modern-day American political fence may sound good to us – who actually likes taxes or pollution, anyway? – but the consequences of converting those talking points into policy may be something else again.

All of which is an over-long introduction to this article, to which I can add little, other than a request that you read it.

I have dear friends and blood relatives who are staunch conservatives. Our neighbor down the street is a sweet lady – and a sign-carrying Tea Partier. While I don’t think much of Eric Cantor, there are conservatives who I do respect as decent and intelligent people. How can something that is so obvious to me be so invisible to them?

Or, is it me that is missing something?

And David finally sat down

To write the year’s Christmas letter,

For friends out of town.

2010 was a good year,

All things considered,

Though with 4 kids in 4 schools,

We ran hither and thither.

Morgan got into Longwood,

Early decision, no less!

We’ll miss her next year,

But not her room’s mess.

She’s licensed to drive,

Our Suburban she prefers.

Maybe one day she’ll have

A car she can call hers.

The cross country team

She captained this year

Though injured, running remains

The sport she holds dear.

Caroline’s blazing new trails

In Albemarle’s 9^th grade

Going to the math and science academy

Was a big decision she made.

Field hockey’s her sport

And perhaps lacrosse as well

But mainly she loves to sing

With a voice clear as a bell.

She plays piano, too

And has for several years

And when trying something new

Rarely suffers from fears.

Katherine’s DI team

Won the state tourney

Then went to Knoxville for Globals

It was a fun but long journey.

K also loves to sing

Like her sisters and Will

She’s in the Bearettes choir

Because her audition went well.

She has almost reached her teens,

The years go by in a whirl

But however old she gets

She’ll always be our little girl.

And then there’s the boy,

Wow, where does one start?

In describing a 2^nd grader

Who uses Legos to make art?

He’s a Wolf cub scout,

His den leader’s his dad,

With hiking, camping and games,

There’s lots of fun that is had.

Soccer, piano and reading

Are Will’s other favorite things

Along with the joys of being 7

And the discoveries each day brings.

Of course Jennifer’s the glue

That keeps us all together

Always doing, doing, doing

And slowing almost never.

She’s retired from PTO

But now manages Will’s D.I.

And with work, church and kids,

Can do everything but fly.

David spent the last year

Educating the Virginia Bar

But now he’s back with Lexis

Where he’ll travel near and far.

His distance running fell off,

No more ultras or marys.

He’ll do better next year

To keep his chest hairy.

So that’s our year in a poem

Some quick highlights, anyway

We hope that you are well

And are grateful for every day.

So what have I been doing in the interim?  Someone asked me recently where I keep my Superman cape.  It wasn’t meant as a compliment – it was an observation that I tend to fall into/get led into/jump into “fix it” mode with work and  my various activities – so much so that the day-to-day aspect of living life falls by the wayside.

What has it gotten me?  It’s finally dawned on me that I probably cannot save the world on my own – probably not even my little corner of it.  Even if I could, it’s not worth the cost.  I can do my fair share, and then some – but, barring an unanticipated appointment as king for a day, I would do well to end my Quixote-esque quest to save the kingdom.

An admittedly cryptic post – but what do you expect after 7 months?

“Will we get to see The Undertaker? Because my friend said The Undertaker took down Romeo Roselli.”

“Um, no Will, that’s a different kind of wrestling. That kind is fake, but the kind we are going to see is real.”

“Oh. Will they still get bleedy?”

This should be an eye-opening experience for this group of 6 and 7 year-olds. I hope they won’t be disappointed when no one gets hit over the head with a folding chair.

One day, I hope to approach the first ultra of the year in great shape, trained, rested, and ready to rumble. Saturday will not be that day. Work, weather, and a general malaise have hampered my training, and I had nearly made peace with the thought of taking a pass on Holiday Lake.

And then came the snow, and I realized that this will be no ordinary ultra. Just as last spring’s Promise Land 50K will be remembered for its heat and humidity, this year’s Holiday Lake promises to be remembered for its snow, mud and muck. How could I pass up the experience?

I harbor no illusions about running a PR. Given the conditions, few if any will be able to do that. My main goal – really my only goal – is to beat the 8 hour time limit. I believe that’s doable, but given fitness level and trail conditions, it’s no sure thing.

If nothing else, the experience should give me something to write about.

P.S. For anyone who thinks that 8 hours for a trail ultra through the snow and mud sounds easy, come join me on the starting line at 6:30 a.m. next Saturday. You might want to bring an extra pair of dry socks.

When I agreed to start teaching the class, I had no idea what “kairos” meant.  I also had no idea what I was doing.  I did know, however, that I had some big shoes to fill, as I was succeeding the much-loved and respected wife of one of our ministers.  She (hi, Beth!) was a gifted teacher in her own right and no slouch in biblical scholarship, and was leaving the class only because her husband had been called as senior minister by a church in another city.  Prior to Beth’s leadership, the class had been taught by two different UVa professors, one of whom had ministerial experience, and both of whom went on to teach at Christian colleges after leaving Charlottesville (at which both have since won teaching awards). 

What in the world was I thinking?  Caught me in a weak moment, I guess.

That was in 2005.  Fast-forward to 2010.  With my English major, law degree and grand total of one undergraduate religion class on my Sunday School teacher resume, I still feel woefully underqualified to be leading the class.  Yet, I look forward to teaching every week.  The class is thriving, our roster is growing, and the biggest problem that I generally have is in cutting the lively discussion off in time for people to make it to the 11:00 worship service on time. 

While I wish I could chalk it all up to my exhaustive scholarship, insightful messages and witty repartee to class members’ questions, I cannot.  It all comes down to the fact that we simply have an extraordinary group of people who gather together every Sunday morning.  At first blush, our class might seem to be a fairly homogeneous group.  For the most part, we tend to fall into similar educational and economic brackets – much like the city of Charlottesville itself.  Dig under the surface, however, and the differences begin to appear.  Some in our class grew up in church, two were preacher’s kids, and one has an M.Div.  On the other hand, others were raised in the time-honored Poinsettia and Lily tradition, attending church only on Christmas and Easter, and some were raised in families that didn’t go at all.  Some have well-worn Bibles and can cite chapter and verse, and some are still finding their way.  We have Democrats and Republicans, hawks and pacifists, firmly committed and open seekers.

What binds us, and what brings us all together every Sunday morning, is a respect for each other, a willingness to share our thoughts, and an honest desire to know more about what it means to be, and to live as, a Christian.  With those dynamics at work, the class cannot help but be successful, underqualified teacher notwithstanding.            

“Kairos”, therefore, is an apt name for our class.  Sunday in and Sunday out, we gather together for 45 minutes of “opportune moments” in which we are united by our commonalities, and by our God.  It is a blessing that I for one do not deserve – but such is the nature of grace.