The Pitter Patter of... Oh, That's Just Disgusting

A little postcard from the vacation Ron and I recently took in Boyne City, Michigan

We've hiked in the Rocky Mountains, we've hiked in the Yorkshire Moors, we've hiked in Zion Canyon. So you would think that hiking in the northern Michigan woods might seem dull and unremarkable by comparison. But if you think that, as we foolishly did, you would not have counted on...

Night of the Living Caterpillars... mwah ha ha ha ha!

Actually, it was the afternoon. We hopped out of the car at the trailhead to hike the Jordan River Pathway, a pleasant little wind through the East Jordan River watershed that was recommended to us by the nice lady behind the desk at the lodge. As we started down the trail, we heard an odd popping noise. "I wonder what that is?" I remarked cheerfully to Ron, our junior naturalist curiosity fully engaged. Then, we saw a charming little caterpillar on the trail. Awwww... isn't that cute?

Then we saw more, hanging out on some low-growing leaves. Well, there sure are some caterpillars around! And look at all those caterpillar tents in the trees! Golly!

We hiked on.

Then we realized, as we hiked deeper in, that caterpillars were everywhere. On the leaves, on the trail, even hanging over the trail from little silken threads. They were writhing in large moving groups on branches crossing the trail. They were congregating slimily on certain trees, heading from one place to another on a caterpillar parkway. And from up above they were... they were dropping on us! Gross! Could that be what that plopping noise is?! Caterpillars falling onto the forest floor? Eeeuuuw!

We hiked faster. We hiked very very fast. I kept my hooded sweatshirt over my head in order to prevent ploppage in my hair. When we stopped for lunch, I did not sit down. I would have sat on caterpillars. I would have had them in my shorts.

We managed to survive about a seven-mile, extremely brisk hike. Before we got into the car, we performed one last inspection for unwelcome stowaways.

When we got back to the condo, we showered thoroughly (eesh!) and then, in true junior naturalist style, we googled "tent caterpillars" on the web.

Guess what. Yeah, apparently northern Michigan is in the midst of a huge forest tent caterpillar infestation. These outbreaks occur every 10-15 years and last 2-5 seasons. Not only that, but we hit the woods (of course) just as the little buggers were finishing their eating cycle, just as they were about as big and busy and numerous as they could possibly be. Next week will be better as all 3.5 trillion caterpillars--that's my personal estimate on the population--will be turning into moths. (Note to self: no hiking at night with flashlights until the first frost.)

There's more. According to the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources, that plopping sound we heard was not what we thought it was...

"Anyone who has been in the woods during a FTC [forest tent caterpillar] outbreak knows not to eat an open faced peanut butter sandwich there. It might sound like rain but it's really insect frass."

You don't know what the word "frass" means? Neither did we. You know, English is an amazing language. We have a special word for caterpillar excrement!

That's right. We spent our afternoon hiking through the woods during a once-in-a-decade caterpillar poop storm.

The good news: "This frass serves as fertilizer just like any other manure." Oh yay. Caterpillar poop helps the ecosystem. It's the circle of life. That totally makes up for the nightmares I'm going to have this week.

We spent the rest of our vacation lounging by the condo pool. We decided we like our nature better on TV.

UPDATE: A little entymological etymology on the word "frass."

Happy Trails

One would think that after making four trips back and forth to California in the past few years, we might head out in some other direction for a summer odyssey, but... no. We've just returned from the wild west yet again. Not all the way to Cali this time, but still far enough and long enough to explain the posting drought since July 4.

Before hopping in the van for the frontier, we spent a fun weekend with Ron's family out at Lake Michigan. The lake was swimmable (or, for our hardy Pipster, surfable), but for the wimpier women, hey, the hot tub is always fabulous.

One evening we gathered on the beach for the traditional bonfire/s'mores combination. I think we've had s'mores about twenty times this summer. At some point, ya know, s'nuff.

Sunsets like this, though, we could handle every night.
Then after a brief pause for a week of soccer camp (Mia) and string camp (Jacob) and blessed freedom from siblings (Philip), it was time to cram into the minivan for hours of family togetherness on the way to: Colorado.

Along the way, we visited many old friends. It turns out we are lucky enough to have friends, if not in every port, then at least in a good number of Midwestern towns, including St. Charles, Illinois; Bloomington, Minnesota; Willmar, Minnesota; Sioux Center, Iowa; and Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

While staying with our friends the Kleinhuizens, the children discovered all the fun things other kids get to do and they don't, such as tubing and fishing (though Jacob found that the infamous "grass bass" was a more common catch than the elusive walleye).

In Sioux Center, Ron got a chance to golf with old friends Todd and Curtis (can you tell the golf course is carved out of the cornfields of the midwest?).

In South Dakota, we visited old friends Dawn and Andrew, whose precious daughter Althea took a shine to Jacob.
At last, we arrived at our destination, Snow Mountain Ranch, where we got to hang out with the Calvin students on staff there this summer and serve as their official professors-in-residence-of-the-week. Besides running around the ranch indulging in camp-style fun, we took a hike one day in Rocky Mountain National Park, and marveled, once again, at how close to the sky one can feel at 12,000 feet above sea level.
After our week at SMR, we zinged home to our little tiny baby puppy Maizey, only to find that somehow, in our absence, she had become... a DOG. We're grateful to the two Calvin students who house-and-dog sat for us, but also suspicious: steroids maybe??
So much for another westward odyssey. We're pretty good at it now. But next year, maybe we'll head east. Crabcakes, anyone?

A Weekend Snapshot

This past weekend, Deb and I temporarily experienced an alternative universe. We handed over our usual life to my good friend, one-time student and mentee, and present Teaching Assistant, Rachel Klompmaker. Rachel climbed in the mini-van and took over. Here's what her weekend looked like:

Friday night involved two soccer practices, two trips to the mall, and a late dinner of frozen pizza. Saturday began bright and early with a soccer game for Pip at 8:40, then a brief break before the afternoon madness: Jacob's game at 2:50, Mia's first game at 4:00 and her second at 7:30. Then Mia went to a high school dance with some friends. Sunday morning meant getting everyone to church, working around Rachel's early morning rehearsal for her own role in the service.

All in all, a pretty normal weekend at our house. Rachel found it pretty exhausting, although it must be said that she was doing this as a single, hardcore soccer mom, whereas we usually (but not always!) have two parental units to spread the love/load around.

Meanwhile, Deb and I lived the life of carefree, big-city, no-kids adults. Friday afternoon, we jumped into our hot little sports car (well, it's a GEO Prizm, but hey, we can pretend) and took off for the Windy City. Car wash: $4.00. Full tank of gas: $33.74. Three hours in the car with just the two of us actually able to sustain an adult conversation for the first time in weeks: priceless.

Once in the city, we met up with my brother and sister and their respective spouses in downtown Chicago where three of them work at Double-click/Performics, soon to be part of the Google Empire. We toured that particular iteration of Cubicle World and then went to a fabulous Chinese dinner. We aspired to big city night life: lingering over dinner talking about politics, Lost, careers, etc. We did, of course, discuss our children and their many exploits and accomplishments. One can't leave it all behind...

The next day I had a meeting of the Liturgical Conference Board (the ostensible purpose of our visit). Meanwhile Deb... well, Deb pretty much slept in, had breakfast, worked out, and read a little bit. No responsibilities, no logistics, no schedule: nice.

That evening and the next morning involved even more eating out, at a Greek restaurant (opa!) and a classic diner. And then,


it was back to our regular lives. Sigh. Still, it's good to visit another universe once in a while.

A Moment in the Sun

I haven't posted for a while here because I've been busy preparing for, flying to, and then fulfilling my obligations at a speaking engagement in...

wait for it...

Hawaii.

I think this makes up for that whole worship wonks don't know when and where to meet thing.

Then again, the conference wasn’t for worship wonks. Sponsored by Hawaiian Island Ministries, it's an annual gathering for church leaders of all sorts, with all sorts of interests. But they did have a handful of specialized tracks: a “youth” track, a “ministering to military” track, a “parenting” track, and the worship track. It’s a really well-run show, featuring some outstanding people – and I don’t just mean the speakers, but the organizers and the attenders, too.

And everything they tell you about Island hospitality is true. The Hawaiian Convention Center is a spectacularly beautiful building; the people are warm and friendly – where else do you get introduced to speak by someone who gives you a hug, a kiss of peace, and then puts a floral garland around your neck? I think we should adopt it in all the churches of the mainland: the liturgical lei.

I gave three related talks on worship, and found my sessions well-attended (and well-received, I think) by some earnest, eager-to-learn people. Many came in without having been intentionally reflective about worship before, and found their circuit-breakers popped by rather simple ideas (e.g. worship is more than≠ music; or that a “congregation = audience; leaders = players” mindset reinforces an alarmingly God-free picture of what happens in worship). At the same time, they knew more than they thought they did, and offered some spiritually insightful responses when I asked them, for example, why they came to worship each week.

Though I made use at times of material developed by or for the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship, I was actually brought to Hawaii under the auspices of the Brehm Center at Fuller Seminary. So in addition to the three general talks I gave, my colleague Ed Willmington and I led a cohort of a dozen or so students in some more intensive training as a first-step on their way to receiving, 18 months hence, a certification in Worship, Theology and the Arts from Fuller.

I think programs like this are important. In so many churches, especially evangelical churches, those who are the worship leaders have no theological training, and a subtle sub-cultural anti-intellectualism ensures that they won’t be going to seminary to get any. But they have a holy fear about what they do, and are very appreciative of the opportunity to deepen their own understanding and practice of worship. I know our cohort will be going back to their churches eager to see what God will do with some of the tools they acquired in our time together.

But now the conference is over, and I have one free day to spend in this tropical paradise – Palm Sunday among the Palms. Think I’m going snorkeling with some sea turtles and dolphins. Hosanna and Aloha!

Home Chaotic Home

We have landed. It's good to be back in Michigan, but we are still in the throes of chaos after several days and it's wearing on all of us. Even after moving six times in three years, I am still amazed by the sheer amount of work it takes to put together a household. And the emotional ups and downs of moving, for all of us.

Small problems seem overwhelming: the air conditioning blew out yesterday, we do not at present have a dining room table or chairs, Miriam found bugs in her hair, and our perpetual question: in which d*** box will I find the [fill in urgently needed item here]??

People ask, "So are you settled in yet?" Uh... never mind.

Everything changes, everything stays the same...

While taking a tour of Yellowstone's "Thermal Features," our guide was keen to let us know that the park is constantly changing due to alteration in the volcanic plumbing below the surface (he must have said this no less than 17thousand times).

But it seemed to me that nothing has changed in decades and decades. Just like every other American family's trip to Yellowstone National Park for the past umpteen years, ours included the following:

1. Old Faithful doing its faithful thing


2. Complacent Bison blocking traffic

3. Purple Mountain Majesty

4. Scuzzy campers enjoying sticky s'mores

The Learning Never Stops...

Things we Learned at Yosemite National Park:

1) We like waterfalls and trees and mountains WAY better than cactus and rock formations and carved-out canyons. (That's our evening picnic site there to the left).

2) The trail to the Vernal Falls is called the "Mist" trail for a very good reason.

3) When they label a trail "Moderate" difficulty, what they mean is "You will probably survive, if you can avoid the bears and the slippery drop offs into the raging river surging through the vast chasm below." Oh yes. And the "two hour" time estimate? Ha. Fortunately, we're not in any kind of hurry.

Next up: Yellowstone - where the water goes up instead of down.

Buh-bye

The house is finally empty, the moving truck is quite full, and we are on our way. Hooray!

Next stop: Yosemite!

Festival of Faith & Writing

Last weekend I had the joy of attending Festival 2006 at Calvin. Since I missed the one in 2004 while we were in Britain, I was especially eager to get to this one.

Some highlights:

Since I was a speaker flying in from out of town, I got to stay at the Prince Center. That is the life, my friends. Great room all to myself, excellent service, and you get to hang out with all the famous writers at breakfast because they're staying there, too. The publisher exhibit area as well as many of the sessions are all right there in the building. The Prince Center, I have to admit, has transformed the Festival from a makeshift circus to a classy, organized event.

I finally met several amazing people whom I knew only from e-mail correspondence: Leslie Leyland Fields, Andy Crouch, Lauren Winner, and Donna Kehoe just to name a few. Also got to spend some quality time with my editor at Jossey-Bass, Sheryl Fullerton, and her colleague Julianna Gustafson.

Did a session on "the new apologetics" with Donald Miller. It's impossible not to feel old and square next to this guy who is the epitome of hip and cool and has sold a zillion books. But according to audience members, the session came off well. At the very least it was nice for me to meet Donald Miller and to think about interesting developments in the Christian book world.

Saw a number of former students, all grown up now. Sigh. Saw a number of my Calvin colleagues, happily just the same as ever. Sigh.

Got inspired. I was asked to host a session for Julia Kasdorf, whose poetry I had never read. I ordered her books ahead of time and found myself becoming a fan. Reading her work has inspired me to work harder at my poetry and have higher standards. Also got inspired by a workshop on "reality marketing." Time to get more serious about promoting my books.

Speaking of, one of the things I learned was "put your readers to work for you." Word of mouth is the most powerful force in book sales. So if you have read *So Much More* and liked it, would you find a way in the next few weeks to spread the word? Example: review on amazon, tell your pastor, tell your book club, buy it for a friend, send the website URL to someone. Thanks! Note: If you read it and hated it, just keep quiet. Thanks.

Could you not watch with me one night?

Our visit to Joshua Tree National Park was supposed to be a sort of desert-father-inspired Lenten pilgrimage in anticipation of Easter. I suppose it served that purpose in the end, but not exactly in the way we'd thought it would.

The first night we drove to the desert, set up camp in Black Rock Canyon, enjoyed a fire-grilled dinner, sang around the campfire, and watched the full moon rise over the hills surrounding the canyon. After everyone else had gone to bed, Mia and I and my friend Eric went midnight hiking in the hills nearby by the moonlight.

The next day we had a big breakfast and packed for a day hiking among the weird trees and enormous sci-fi-movie-set boulders the park is famous for. We decided to hike up Ryan Mountain, a 1.5 mile trail with a 1,000 foot gain. We got nearly to the top when suddenly dark clouds appeared and began blowing toward us. We started to hustle down the mountain, but got caught in the storm. Icy wind, buckets of rain, and for a short time a bit of sleet. We were drenched and freezing. In the desert. In the middle of the day. Fortunately, we had rain ponchos, which only helped a little but made Philip look like a wee hobbit.

The rain stopped within an hour or two but the wind kept blowing, and when we returned to our camp in the afternoon, our friends' awning and tent had blown some distance away and the entire site was in disarray. We took measure of our resolve, and realized that we did not relish the thought of huddling in the tent all night waiting for the wind to blow us to Oz. So we packed up, went out to eat at a nice cozy restaurant, and drove home.

I guess if we were desert fathers, and surviving in the desert was a sign of our loyalty to the faith and spiritual maturity -- a trial we had to endure in order to prove our worthiness -- then we managed to show what kind of flimsy stuff we were made of. In that, I suppose we are much like Jesus' disciples on the Mount of Olives. Sigh.

Praise God for Easter!

In the Desert

Not lots of blogging lately - too busy living. We spent Sunday with some Santa Barbara friends, preparing for a Monday talk Debra and I gave jointly at Westmont College on Christian principles to help couples negotiate the work-family struggle (title: Changing Diapers, Changing the World).

Then today I presided at the table and delivered a sermon on Christian Unity at All-Seminary chapel at Fuller. Now that these major presentations are finished, we are breathing a sigh of relief. But we'll not be catching up on our blogging, I fear. We are today preparing the family for Easter celebrations. We will be following the example of our fourth-century forefathers by taking a Holy Week pilgrimage into the desert. If there is no blog post on Easter Sunday or Monday, send the park rangers after us. We're not the savviest campers. But we should be easy to find; just look for the vultures.

Dr. Seuss-land

We had a wonderful vacation this past week in Escondido -- visiting SeaWorld, the nearby Wild Animal Adventure Park, and just hanging around at the pool. As I am finding more and more in my jaded middle-age, I am at least as fascinated by the flora in these fancy zoos as I am by the fauna. Here are pictures of Mia and Jacob by two trees that seem to me to have come from the imaginative mind of Dr. Seuss. Or wherever he got his imagination.

Laughin' at Laughlin

The whole family spent this past weekend in Laughlin, Nevada. Three guesses what drew us out into the desert (cheaters can scroll down).

We decided that Laughlin is sort of a beginner LasVegas; it's got bright lights and casino gambling and theatrical productions of dubious moral value -- the same as you'll find a few miles to the north, but they're here on a much smaller, even shabbier scale. If you sort of squint your eyes and look at the strip (see picture above), you might indeed believe you're in Sin City. Of course, squinting is a good idea anyway when you enter the smoke-hazed casino and find that you're looking at a room full of old, lonely, overweight people, chain-smoking and drinking and feeding slot machines all day and night. In fact, you'd have to squint really hard to see what the casinos want you to see.

We had a fun drive down, including a hilarious few minutes as we were leaving L.A. on the 210. There were only about 2.7 buzillion other people on the road with us, and as we went underneath a long overpass (which took a good long time), people began sounding their horns -- maybe to hear the echo, maybe to let off some steam, maybe just because it was Friday and they were heading out of town. It was random and social and funny - like a flash mob. In all the noise we heard the obligatory call-and-response "shave and a haircut" many times. Others just cheerfully peeped random rhythms. We joined in the honk-fest and then laughed about it for miles afterwards.

But as astute readers will already know, we did not leave L.A. and endure traffic of apocalyptic proportions in order to see the natural beauty of the Mojave desert, nor to gamble away my teaching fellowship fundage. Instead we went to see Mia's superlative soccer team kick some non-California competition. We all got a good laugh out of a first-game snafu: Mia had accidentally brought along Jacob's all-star soccer jersey instead of her own (all the Burbank teams wear the same style jersey). This meant that our team had two players labeled #11. So we got some painter's masking tape and covered up one of the ones, and Mia played. But the other team complained to the referee about "that player with the unusual shirt." They thought she was a ringer, because she was, in their words, "too tall and strong and fast" to be under 14 years old. (She is strong and fast, but tall? She's average on her team. Not to mention their team.) I think they were looking for some excuse to protest the drubbing they received. Final score: 6-0.

After that cake-walk, there were two other tougher games -- one scoreless draw, and one hard-fought win at 3-0. In the tie game, Mia managed to jump up for a header and collide heads in mid-air with an opposing player. Mia came down hurting but kept focus and continued the play. The other gal didn't fare as well. We saw her the next day -- still playing, thank goodness -- but with bruising around her eye shaped suspiciously like a Mia-head-print. Mia said afterwards that she felt really bad, but then again the girl should've just gotten out of the way and let Mia head the ball, and then she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Simple!

In the championship game, Mia's team dominated the offensive play, yet squeaked by with a 1-0 win. Still, a win is a win, the bling-bling is just as bright. And the parents are just as thrilled to see the girls' laughing faces as they come through the "way-to-go!" lineup at the game's conclusion.


(by the way, the mysterious blonde in the picture at the top of this post is a member of Mia's team, Danielle Reid)

Four New Disney Dwarves

We had a wonderful two-day holiday at Disneyland and discovered a few extra dwarves:

Fuzzy

Squinty

Sullen

and Wacky

Dining In the 'Ville

At the invitation of my good friend Chip Andrus, I'm spending most of this week in Louisville as a special consultant for the PC(USA). I'm part of a brainstorming group -- our job is to discern, develop, and then disseminate resources to help the church worship well.

As expected, our first night was one of convivial bread-breaking at a fabulous downtown restaurant. Not knowing what to do with myself in such high class surroundings, I ordered Mac & Cheese for the appetizer. It came with truffles, Berkshire bacon, and dried apple. Yummy! And the tenderloin steak that was the main course came with the fanciest dang tater-tot I ever did see. Yee haw! Hope I get me some grits tomorrow for breakfast!

The weekend of California Cliches

We spent the weekend with our friends Paul & Sharon Willis and Lisa DeBoer, faculty folk from Westmont College in Santa Barbara. We had a great time hiking, dining, talking about ministry in higher education, and enjoying at least 3 California cliches along the way:

1) A powder-blue Porsche convertible passing us along the Pacific Coast highway with a babe-a-tronski inside and a surfboard poking out a side window.
2) Speaking of surfing, we saw plenty of people in the ocean, trying to "hang ten" or "catch a wave" or whatever they say. But the waves were... well, the picture below shows, they weren't. Most the folks weren't really surfing, they were just bobbing tranquilly in the aptly-named Pacific.
3) Along our drive home, we stopped for a while to watch a pod of dolphins frolicking in the water just a short ways off shore. They seemed to be having more fun than the "surfers." But not more fun than we had.

The Cheyenne Say...

No doubt the spirits of Native Americans past were getting a good laugh at us this weekend as we set up camp with our thin little tent and summer-weight sleeping bags. "Paleface idiots," they chortled, "don't they realize that at 7000 feet in October, the weather drops below freezing at night?"

After passing a shivery, sleep-deprived first night, we vowed to survive the next night in better shape. If this were a Dr. Quinn episode, we reasoned, the hunky mountain man, Sully, would be muttering something about what the Cheyenne would do in our situation. So we decided to try the ancient Native American fire-heated-rock-in-the-sleeping-bag trick.

Here are some things we discovered:

• If you put eight or nine rocks in the firepit, they won't all heat equally.
• It's a good idea to wrap the rock in a towel before putting it in the sleeping bag.
• If the rock is too hot, however, it will singe the towel and may even start it a-smouldering.
• If this happens, you will wind up with the charred, shredded remains of your teenage mutant ninja turtle towel, and a sense of relief that someone noticed the smell before the children burst into flames.
• If you get the rock temperature right, this solution actually works great and can help keep you warm all night.

So all in all, it was an educational weekend. We learned all kinds of things about sequoias as well as a thing or two about the survival (barely) of the not-quite-fittest.

Sequoiadendron Giganteum

This weekend we made a pilgrimage to Sequoia National Park, about five hours north of LA. Here we are, paying homage to the world's largest living thing. We discovered many interesting things about these lovely, long-lived, cinnamon-colored giants. For instance, sequoias produce dainty little cones about the size of chicken eggs, while their neighbors in the woods, the skinny, comparatively unremarkable jeffrey pines and sugar pines, produce cones so enormous you could use them to defend yourself against bears. Not that we had to do this, thankfully.

Hotel California

Well, we made it home safe and sound, though we had to fight a little L.A. traffic on the 5 during rush hour. But our California abode was right where we left it - clean and cozy and inviting. And not only to us; we discovered a significant infestation of ants in various places around the apartment. In fact, they had been finding their way into the freezer all summer long, and then freezing to death inside. "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave..."

Burbling Brooks

Today was another fun, though not quite so ambitious, day of hiking. The kids enjoyed a modified version of "Pooh-sticks" in the brook burbling beautifully in the ravine behind our little cottage. In the evening it was a fabulous dinner (pizza from the grocery store), Coldstone ice cream, and baths for everyone.


Oh yes, and then packing. We're off for California tomorrow!