I’m not a baseball guy, but I enjoyed this video of a father-son foul ball catching team.

They can be found at the usual place.  One reason for my drive to update quickly was this load of photos.

Those unfamiliar with the login can contact me for the info.

I have written a short batch file that can make your time on the computer much more efficient.  Here’s the code: copy it into an empty text file, rename the extension .bat, place the file in your autostart folder, and you’re ready to go.

@echo off
%SystemRoot%\system32\shutdown.exe -s -f -t 900 -c “Better get cracking!”
pause

This will give you 15 minutes to get your work done before the computer shuts down.  (Or, alternately, 15 minutes to remove the file from your autostart folder.)
Now, to be honest, I don’t use it quite like that.  I use the following version (and it’s not in the autostart folder):

@echo off
%SystemRoot%\system32\shutdown.exe -s -f -t 10 -c “Shutting down, no questions asked!”
pause

I do this because, as mentioned a year ago on David July’s blog, I have a program (SAMPLE.EXE) that won’t close properly.  It’s related to the Intel PROSet Network adapter, I’m certain, but it’s annoying because I need to wait around at shutdown to tell the computer that yes, SAMPLE.EXE should be terminated.  My little batch file takes care of all that (and any other programs that might be running), plus it saves the extra click on “Turn off.”  It’s all in the -f parameter.

I think the original idea of shutdown.exe was to be able to shut down another computer on the network remotely, not your own – anyone can shut down his own computer, right? – but it suits my problem perfectly.  I’m not sure what it says about me, though, that it took me a year to come up with the simple brute force solution to this problem.

Allow me to credit the http://www.computerhilfen.de forums for batch help.

Here we are again with videos of our little ones.  First we have videos of Vivienne lying on Bappe’s knee.  (Two videos of an unhappy Vivienne were censored, despite arguably being more action-packed.)

On we go to a few toys Joseph enjoys: his alphabet stamps, his Pimsleur DVDs, and his memory game.  When it comes to cleaning them up, counting is often a good way to make the chore enjoyable for Joseph.  (It also seems that videos with “counting” and “kids” generate Duggar video links in the sidebar.)

Joseph still really likes books, and has begun reading them to himself.  Grossmutti’s gift, “Ten out of bed,” is a favorite, as is “Roxaboxen” (Grandma?) and “Moo, Baa, La La La” (Aunt S.).

Vivienne is only just starting to enjoy toys.  Her focus is clearly still on getting to know her abilities, such as grabbing things or making sounds.

Joseph, when he’s not into action sports, still has a penchant for counting, be it in German or English.  Of course, he often gets distracted by other games.  It doesn’t really matter whether it’s a one or two twos, any number can go missing.  But it’s not just numbers; he also really enjoys Grandma’s word cards.

He often helps Mommy, be it with gardening or with preparing salad.  And he’s as thorough with that as he is when spinning trivets.  He’s expanded his repertoire to include a synchrospin (difficulty 3.2).  If he keeps going on like that, he’ll be ready for the 2028 Olympics.  But we’re proudest of him when he looks out for his little sister, which he does with purpose and dedication.  (In that video, he says “Chopf,” Swiss German for head, as “Fopp,” which Janet first takes to mean “forehead.”  It illustrates a difficulty we often face when he says something: which language is he approximating?)

We started with videos of Vivienne, and end with videos of Vivienne, where we try with moderate success to get her to laugh her adorable little laugh.

Let me know what you think of the amount of videos I’m posting.  Too many?  Too few?  Just right?

If you think odd sports gadgets are a modern phenomenon, think again: here’s a video of a weird one from 1953.

It’s worth six minutes of your time to listen to Bohemian Rhapsody on a solo ukulele.

Now, I know nothing about how it works, but here’s a fascinating episode showing what the left and right hemispheres do.

I have heard that the video posts were causing difficulties on some computers because they took a long time to load.  In order to counteract that, I’m including only the links this time.  Let me know what you think of the change.

Vivienne observes her hand.

Joseph has learned to say “I’m sleepy now” from the book Grossmutti gave him.  It’s his favorite bedtime book by far.  And we love to hear him say “I’m sleepy now,” especially with his consonant inversion.

Joseph doesn’t always perform.  Here Mommy tries to get him to say please for the camera.

He’s gained impressive skill at building blocks.  Our favorite skill is his exclamation: “Nice tower!“  That’s why we’ve ended up with a few videos of Joseph with towers.

Another activity he’s taken to is doing dishes.  Start running the water, and Joseph starts running, shoves his stool to the counter, and starts putting whatever’s next to the sink into the sink.  Sometimes he makes me nervous, particularly when he fills large glasses with water one-handed – and I’m torn between teaching him caution and telling myself I shouldn’t worry over cheap IKEA glasses.  At any rate, I want to sustain his enthusiasm for this chore.

Vivienne is much more of a sleepyhead than Joseph at her age.  He’d pop up wide awake; she has more trouble waking up.

Joseph’s fascination with counting has spread to calendars and buttons.  He also reads license plates everywhere – that’s geek cred for you right there.

Next to having discovered her hand, Vivienne also is learning to grip things, such as this ball.

We’ve posted similar videos before, but does watching a sleepy kid ever get old?  This, however, is new: Joseph is starting to spin objects by himself.

Easter brought with it Joseph’s first serious exposure to chocolate.  He likes his “Schoggi.”

Joseph plays peek-a-boo with Vivienne, and blows out candles, too.

The videos are roughly in chronological order, except for one of the “Nice tower” episodes.

This is the third part of my three-part summary of John Ortberg’s Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them.  If you haven’t already, you may want to read my Part I and Part II summaries first.  Again, the chief purpose of these summaries is to act as memory props, not provide an exhaustive, accurate literary summary, and they are clearly summaries through my eyes, with my choice of what to include as important and where to add commentary.

After detailing in Part I how everybody comes with more or less noticeable flaws that have the potential to hurt others, and looking at how we can get closer to others despite the flaws everyone has in Part II, Ortberg turns to the characteristics that make relationships great in Part III.

Ortberg first takes a look at forgiveness, the miracle he hinted at at the close of Part II.  Books could be and have been written on the topic, so Ortberg’s chapter is little more than an outline based on the parable of the unforgiving servant.  He begins by clarifying a few things about forgiveness.

“Forgiveness is what is required precisely when there is no good rationale to explain away why someone did what they [sic] did.  (…)  When an action is excusable, it doesn’t require forgiveness.  (…)  Forgiving is what’s required precisely when we can’t forget.  (…)  Forgiveness takes place within the heart of one human being.  It can be granted even if the other person does not ask for it or deserve it.”

Ortberg splits forgiveness into three stages.  The first stage is refraining from retaliation: “When I forgive you, I give up the right to hurt you back.  Even though you may hurt me deliberately, personally, and deeply, I suspend the law of vengeance.  (…)  Of course, letting go of vengeance doesn’t mean letting go of justice.  (…)  The next stage of forgiveness involves a new way of seeing and feeling.  (…)  When we hold fast to unforgiveness toward another person, we tend to believe only bad things about them.  We want to think of them only in terms of the hurt they have caused us.  We want to forget their humanity.”  (I consider the [sic] above to cover all further references where Ortberg uses an unwarranted plural.)  “When we forgive each other, we begin to see more clearly.  We do not ignore the hurts, but we see beyond them.  (…)  The third stage of forgiving (…) is when you find yourself wishing the other person well.”  I agree with his three stages, but believe there’s no sharp dividing line between stages.  We progress and regress largely in sync with circumstances – wishing the other person well on a good day and stewing on a bad one.

After talking about the structure of forgiveness, Ortberg adds a few more observations.  “As a general rule, where there is hurt, I am both the victim of and the agent of wrongdoing.  In most relationships where deep pain is involved, I must both forgive and seek forgiveness.  (…)  God commands us to forgive whenever we’re hurt, and reconcile whenever we can, because life is too short not to do so.  (…)  [F]orgiveness is not the same thing as allowing someone to avoid pain.  It is longing for their spiritual well-being, which includes desiring that they become loving persons.”

Ortberg begins his next chapter with a Bonhoeffer quote: “Nothing can be more cruel than the leniency which abandons others to their sin.  Nothing can be more compassionate than the severe reprimand which calls another Christian in one’s community back from the path of sin.”  Confrontation, Ortberg says, is how people “get on the scale” in community.  “We need someone to remind us of our deepest aspirations and values and to warn us when we may be getting off track,” and this despite “our nearly endless ability to justify what we do or say so that it is consistent with our self-concept.”  He again quotes Bonhoeffer: “One who because of sensitivity and vanity rejects the serious words of another Christian cannot speak the truth in humility to others, [but w]ords of admonition and reproach must be risked.”  I believe it’s important that the person doing the admonishing realizes the risk inherent in his words, or he will not have the gentleness and caution required to make the admonition heard.

Ortberg then quotes the questions that accountability groups under Wesley asked new members before accepting them.  “Does any sin, inward or outward, have dominion over you?  Do you desire to be told of your faults?  Do you desire to be told of all your faults – and that plain and clear?  Consider! Do yoou desire that we should tell yoou whatsoever we think, whatsoever we fear, whatsoever we hear concerning you?  Do you desire that in doing this we should come as close as possible, that we should cut to the quick, and search your heart to the bottom?  Is it your desire and design to be on this and all other occasions entirely open, so as to speak everything that is in your heart without exception, without disguise, and without reserve?”

Ortberg seems to hold this up as a model, contrasting it with the prevalent conflict avoidance in today’s churches.  He has a point, but I think he misses two important ones.  First, Wesley’s questions are fair warning.  Apparently, Wesley’s groups only entered into totally open accountability with willing participants, and excluded those who couldn’t agree with these questions.  If our church culture is to shift back to this more ruthless openness, it needs to be balanced with a mechanism that keeps the unwilling and the untrustworthy from participating.  Second, according to Ortberg Wesley called this accountability “watching over one another in love.”  This presupposes something that’s missing from the questions: Are you committed to love, support, and encourage us?  Will you stick around when you fail? when we fail?  Without this foundation of firm gentleness and long-term commitment such open accountability will be hurtful, not helpful.  (It’s also a pretty good reason to stick with a church long-term.)

Later on, Ortberg does talk about love as a prerequisite.  “There is a kind of person who speaks ‘truth’ recreationally, but does it without love.  Such a person blasts away and passes judgment in a spirit of arrogant superiority, which they cover up by saying. ‘I am a prophet.’  (…)  [I]n the heart of a true prophet,” Ortberg writes, “what burns deeply (…) is not just anger but love.”  Sin cannot be handled alone, Ortberg concludes: we all need someone who loves us enough to be our truth-teller.

Inclusion is the theme of the following chapter.  Every little mouse needs a hole, and our tendency to exclude others in order to feel more exclusive prevents others – and us – from truly belonging anywhere.  “At the core of Christian community is the choice (…) between exclusion and embrace.  (…)  When people truly begin to follow Jesus, they find themselves becoming Embracers.”  Ortberg mentions the sociological difference between bonding (connecting with people with whom you have a lot in common) and bridging (connecting with people across diverse social cleavages), and points out that “Jesus is the greatest bridger the world has ever seen.  When the church understood his heart, it became a community like nothing else the world has ever seen.”

“[W]herever the spirit of exclusion reigns, it marks those farthest from the Fellowship of the Trinity.  When we exclude, we don’t just hurt those we keep outside; we damage our own souls far more.  And when we embrace, we ourselves are the ones who receive the greatest gift.”  So: Notice.  Care.  Act.  Give.  But what Ortberg doesn’t talk about is how to include those with exclusionary tendencies – which, if we’re honest, we all are.  In a strange reversal he probably didn’t intend, it sounds like we’re supposed to include all except those exclusionist types.  Certainly those who would exclude us are hardest to meaningfully include, but do we really get a free pass?  It reminds me of the “tolerate everyone” mantra, where “everyone” only applies to those we deem tolerant enough.

Ortberg then moves on to the connection between gratitude and love.  “People who live deeply in community,” he writes, “learn to discern and express the value of other human beings.  They are masters of expressing love in word and gesture.”  This requires understanding the etiquette of the corresponding culture, for “[e]very society adopts ways to welcome and host people, to honor and value people whom we treasure, or to ignore and hurt those we choose to demean.”  If we don’t understand our society’s etiquette, we run the risk of unintentionally hurting people, and their hurt and our blame is real regardless of how noble our motives may have been.

But on to the connection between gratitude and love.  “We think of people having the capacity to love who have mostly gotten life right – healthy people with high self-esteem and low regret factors.  (…)  Jesus says the great lovers are those who have come face-to-face with their own great brokenness and have been undone by great grace.  (…)  The greatest command is the command to love.  The greatest sin is refusal to obey the greatest command.”  Love treats others as children of God (and that, I would argue, regardless of whether we’ve heard them make a proper confession of faith).  Do I speak love and encouragement into the lives of those who meet me, or just hard truth and correction?

In the last chapter, Ortberg turns his pen to heaven, because heaven is where God “is building a community of blessed life, and he will be its primary sustainer and most glorious inhabitant.”  He talks about how all will be made right in heaven, redeemed; how we will be home; how we will finally be normal.  Here is were his tendency to insert comic relief trips him up most.  Nearly every set of imagery or explanation of symbolism includes a goofy joke that calls into question how serious he is, that shatters the image and longing he hopes to evoke.  It’s unfortunate, because I think he is right: we have a poor, incomplete notion of just how great heaven will be, which is betrayed by our lack of enthusiasm to go there now.  And heaven is indeed where people and their relationships will be restored, and should therefore function as a guiding star for us, helping us to “choose hope (…) and live in hope that one day God will set everything right,” helping us live his love in difficult circumstances.

For if what’s broken will not be redeemed, what keeps us from judging and excluding, from wheat-and-chaffing in order to be more efficient and successful down here?  The promise of redemption speaks hope to our broken souls, and a warning to our haughty spirits: God treats that untouchable better than you do.  Take heart; take heed.  And take action.

This time, only a few pictures of Vivienne.  I’m trying to keep the albums shorter, so the work of making albums is not concentrated on one big effort but smaller, more frequent uploads.  We’ll see how well it works…

The pictures are at the usual place, with the usual sign-in.  Write me if you don’t know it.