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[The Creation of the Chicken]

An unworthy Deacon, named for the brother of God: James, striving to "work out his salvation with fear and trembling" within the Tradition (paradosis) of the Eastern Orthodox Faith. It is a strange and marvelous journey, and I am accompanied by the fourfold fruit of my fecundity. My wife, the Matushka or Diaconissa Sophia, is my beloved partner in the pursuit of Theosis, and she ranks me in every way.
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Monday, June 21, 2004

What can men do against such reckless hate?

Theoden's words ring so true today. Hatred that would slowly behead a screaming man with a butcher knife along with the somewhat more veiled hatred that would view a dismembered child pulled from the rubble of a cruise missle's "terrorist target" as merely "colateral damage." But my thinking does not specifically dwell upon such matters today, rather I think the words most heavy upon my heart and most expresive of my particularly despair would read thus:

What can fathers do against such reckless destruction?

You see I have just finished scolding my son for utilizing a tiny toy garden tool to rip a small hole in our brand new screen door. Not more than two weeks ago we had our old aluminum single pane windows replaced with energy efficient vinyl double panes - at no small cost I can tell you. Presently three of the screens have had tiny human heads pushed through them and therfore the screen and rubber gaskets poppped right out. I have already made a round of fixing all three before. Furthermore, the carpet in this home was new when we bought it a year ago and it is now stained beyond recognition, no wall remains free from the dasdardly work of a toddler's crayon or marker, no sooner is one mess cleaned before a new one has begun with extreme vigilance, no DVD or CD is safe from being scattered, fingerprinted, scratched, and lost - even if secured by a locking mechanism, no VCR is free from grass clippings, peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches, or having tapes inserted backwards, no TV or computer monitor is free from greasy fingerprints or the accumulation of strange food matter, the floor of the kitchen is ever being corrupted by unfathomably stainable food and drink products while also being trampled upon by drit, mud, or sand ridden little feet, no article of clothing or plastic wrapper from frozen fruit flavored small rodent treats
are ever left undistributed throughout the backyard, no sofa or chair remains unconsidered as a blank canvas for food and ink work, and.....well...ummm...there really is no end to it now that I think about it. I have come to the conclusion that there is little hope for having and keeping anything nice in this home...for some reason I am perpetually reminded of Robert Frost's "Nothing gold can stay."

Can there be any wonder why I might seek professional psychological help? There is no end to the tyranny of destruction that has befallen this home, I mean one can only childproof so much, righ? Perhaps we should wallpaper the whole house (floor to ceiling)with newsprint and tell the kids to "do your worse!"

Or maybe it's all my fault? Maybe my kids are undisciplined or inconsistently disciplined? Perhaps there is a home out there with 4 kids under 7 years old with spotless walls, clean carpets, ornate and fragile decorations that remain untouched, and a perfectly manicured yard to make the neighbors jealous? I don't know.

But, I, my friends...I teeter on the edge of insanity...or is it joy? Certainly it should be. A lesson? Nothing gold can stay. Yep.

Still...prozac may be in order.


...offered by Dn. James Ferrenberg, a sinner at 2:37 PM [+]
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