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This time of year, deer in the yard are not uncommon. But, when your garden is in that key “starting to flourish, but needs protection” stage, the last thing you want to see is deer. Well, rabbits and birds aren’t fun either, so I guess it’s a bit of a toss up.

Anyway, we do things to try to scare deer off like yelling, clapping, and occasionally shooting at them with our woefully underpowered bb gun. The problem with this is, after the first time, being shot with the world’s weakest bb gun at 300 feet away is not totally useless, but mostly useless. The deer react like they’re being bitten by a mosquito.

So, we’ll have to find another tactic. It’s been pointed out to me that the natural antagonism of a dog might work, but then, dogs also take work. I dunno. Maybe I could serve them some bad salad or something, to scare them away from this establishment. I’ve got to do something. If Bambi eats my tomato plants, I might lose it.

“Mommy, I need some farmers on cheese.”

We took some serious time to figure that one out.

Parmesan Cheese. Yep.

Oh PB and J, how you are adored in this household. I just spent 3 minutes crafting the world’s easiest sandwich for my little boy while suggesting possible alternatives for him… it turns out that he is not interested in pb and tomato, pb and pickles, pb and water, or pb and anything else. With the possible exception of banana, of course, because like his dad, he realizes how awesome that is.

It’s great to be able to cause happiness with 20 cents of bread, peanut butter and grape jam. (American grape jam is much more like jelly than it is jam, but I digress.) I’m not often happy about simple things. PB&J doesn’t make me smile the way it makes my boy smile. Neither does loading the dishwasher.

Maybe I’m missing something? I’ve gotta go help a little boy load the dishwasher.

I’ve got nothing… but thankfully, Ron Block has a great post about faith over at the Rabbit Room. You should go read it.

“Science will never be able to reduce the value of a sunset to arithmetic. Nor can it reduce friendship to formula. Laughter and love, pain and loneliness, the challenge of beauty and truth: these will always surpass the scientific mastery of nature.”

- Dr. Louis Orr

Saturdays this time of year are filled with grass to be cut, gardens to be hoed, races to be run, balls to be thrown, breakfasts to be eaten, grills to be started. I love all of those things. I’m reminded of the joys of summer vacation, really, when we have a great Saturday. I don’t know how my parents ever got anything done on those days – It really is tough. But totally worth it!

So, it’s not so bad when your two-year-old starts climbing into the bed with you in the middle of the night.

But yeah, it’s pretty bad when he starts tickling you in the middle of the night.

Or an advert, if you’re British. But, chances are that you aren’t. So there.

Sometimes it really does feel like everything is an ad. I listen to the radio, and beyond the obvious ads, the DJs are talking about their favorite products (Tivo! Burgers from X! TV Shows!). Product placements on TV have gotten worse. (did the man in black from Lost use an Apple computer in the last episode? No. He didn’t. But it would’ve been funny if he had.)

Of course, you go to the store and it’s that way too. Every chance they get to remind you of how unfulfilled you’ll feel until you buy! buy! buy!

We consume. We’re expected to consume. Consume and throw away. The more they convince you to consume, the better off they’ll be. I think it’s important for us to remember that. That’s how they pay the bills.

My boy’s relationship with his mom is a great analogy for the persistence of sin. It is not uncommon to hear “Sorry Momma, not obey” even as he starts picking up the offending object again. (In the most recent case I remember, something in the bathroom… my toothbrush, perhaps?) Sin is like that… and God’s patience is like my wife, too… dealing with the problem while loving the little boy. It’s good for my heart.

Growing up, no matter how well someone attempted to explain some concepts, it was only in story that I really started to get my head around it. I think that’s still true a lot of the time. I understand the idea of grace better through story than if you just talk about the propositional definition of it. I understand the idea of justice better through story than if you just talk about the propositional definition of it.

This is one of the reasons that I love story so much. It is a powerful tool for communicating truth and ideas. Bridge to Teribithia communicates big ideas about loss and death and imagination, but it never feels like the author forces it. The story does it.

Of course, there IS a danger inherent to communicating truth through story — it becomes easy for the story to become the new definition, or for nuances from the story that are not necessarily directly related to the truth to become part of our understanding of the truth. Every analogy breaks down.

But, even with the danger, story is a powerful way to communicate truth. God thinks so, too. (See all those great parables in the Gospels, for example. Or the true (and often messy) stories of Abraham, David, Nehemiah, and Paul.)