Night Hens Daycare Center

[at home]

TL: Did I NEED to steal an attack walrus in order to win my freedom from that government research facility?
No.
But at some point we all must choose between what is right… and what is awesome. (This quote belongs to Rock Paper Cynic, rockpapercynic.com)

RM: Hm.

MD: Why didn’t you just steal one of the attack gorillas, if you were in a gorilla facility?

TL: …what? I said government research facility!

MD: Well, it sounded like gorilla!

TL: You know, that saying, “Renewed youth like the eagles” doesn’t make any sense. Eagles don’t magically turn back into chicks when it’s time for them to die.

RM: They go through a molting process that, when it finishes, makes them like new birds.

TL: I think phoenixes are better.

RM: Yeah. Except they’re mythical.

TL: They might not have been at one point! Sort of like dragons!

RM: Slug dragons?

MD: What?

TL: What?! I said ‘sort of like dragons’!

RM: Well, it sounded like you said slug dragons! You talk so fast, it’s hard to understand what you say sometimes.

TL: >:|

MD: I think we need a speech therapist.

TL: I dosh not need a shpeech therapisht!

RM: Well, it’s not that she talks incorrectly, it’s that she talks to fast for the rest of us to understand!

MD: She talks like a drunk person.

TL: D:

[in the car, with NW joining us for breakfast]

TL: Awwww, look at NightLight! He’s so cute!

MD: Don’t look at him! He’s mine!

You know, I think morning time is when he’s the most smiley and talkative.

NW: Like me.

RM: [laughs]

MD: Right.

TL: I’m not going to say anything right now… I want to live.

TL: Hey look, Mom, Portland Avenue! It’s a sign.

RM: [laughs]

MD: That wasn’t funny! Where did you get that?!

TL: Why did I have to get it from somewhere other than my head? It’s a double entendre. Go away.

RM: Isn’t it only a double entendre if it has sexual implications?

TL and MD: No!

MD: You’re thinking innuendo.

RM: I’m down with that… hip with that?

MD: Yo, diggy-dog!

TL: So, Faith, do you want to send Mom to Oregon for her birthday?

MD: … Do I look like I’m making money right now?

TL: Yes.

NW: In the basement.

MD: Are you still taking stuff down? We’re still being funny now.

[in the restaurant]

MD: We want a sleeping baby.

RM: [to NightLight] Your mother wants a sleeping baby.

NightLight: Ehhh!!!

TL: He adds an element to the conversation that we could not have possibly achieved ourselves.

MD: Yes, that fine edge of sophistication…

[now talking about the state fair]

NW: Let’s discuss flip flops in the swine barns.

MD: And constipated cows.

RM: I touched a cow.

And a sheep.

NW: And she terrorized the bunnies.

RM: Yes, I also touched a bunny.

We also saw the 1450 pound pig.

After this, the food came, and conversation resorted to, “OM NOM NOM NOM nom nom nom nom nom.”

For people like us, in places like this

by the Night Writer

I read in the news today that Michael Been, lead singer and songwriter for the 80s band The Call, died last Thursday of a heart attack while at a concert in Belgium. The Call was a “Christian Contemporary” band and I was a fan back in the late 80s and early 90s when I was starting out on my current path. Up until that time I thought “Christian” music was hymns or country songs full of sin and remorse – or perhaps a hard-rock hair band like Stryper. I can’t say I ever listened to any Stryper, but the vibe to me seemed to be, “Yo, you can love Jesus and still have long hair, wear leather and rock out because He is the Rock! Wooo!”

That might not be a fair description of Stryper or other bands like that (like I said, I never listened to their music), but I’ve always been put off by acts that merely seemed to be Christian copies of what was being offered in the more commercial world (I feel the same way about authors, movies and television shows). I don’t want to feel as if I have to like something just because it’s “Christian” — forgiving sloppy execution and musicianship simply because the boys “mean well.” Intellectually, I had not come easily to my faith and while I didn’t quite trust “traditional” Christian arts or artists, I also wanted more than platitudes or suggestions that one’s life hadn’t been — or needed to be — changed all that much. I certainly didn’t want facile posturing or sappy smiles. Bands like The Call and artists such as Bruce Cockburn were an exciting revelation to me; here were men willing to write and sing about their struggles, their doubts and their attempts to simultaneously wage war and live peace in an insane world, and to do it with creativity, passion (especially Michael Been) and craft. As dark as that might sound, I could identify with their words and feel myself rise with them as grace and revelation flowed, literally, through their God-given talents.

Been could be especially brooding and challenging, often questioning “traditional” values ascribed to Christians in order to wrestle with the meaning and application of scripture — and did it in such a way that the casual listener wouldn’t necessarily realize that a message was being planted. I didn’t always agree with what he had to say, but I was always inspired. The Call first started to get some radio play with their song The Walls Came Down. As with many of their songs it featured Been’s driving bass and a strong guitar hook. There was also a dash of biblical allegory and pointed political statement at the end that didn’t endear them to the Right but no doubt appealed to a certain audience. The first I became aware of them was with their song I Still Believe, which received regular airplay on my local radio station, The Cities 97. Like Peter Gabriel (an artist The Call would later collaborate with) and his song Solsbury Hill, I liked Believe from the first time I heard it even though I didn’t grasp it’s meaning for some time.

The band’s breakthrough — or should I say “cross-over”? — was 1989’s uplifting pop prayer, Let the Day Begin, but it was usually the tracks deeper on their albums that most reached me, such as the song With or Without Reason which especially resonated:

How you gonna tell your story
Are you gonna tell it true
Either with or without reason
Love has paid the price for you
How you gonna cure this feeling
How you gonna right this wrong
Either with or without reason
The weaker do protect the strong…

The wisest of the fools can tell you
Anything you want to hear
Either with or without reason
These are truths you hold so dear
Oh, there’s somebody waiting
Oh, there’s somebody near
Oh, there’s somebody waiting
Oh, there’s somebody here

Aside from that, Been’s beard, hair-style and physique were very similar to mine at the time; watching one of his videos was nearly an out-of-body experience.

As with many bands and most visions, The Call eventually broke up and Been had a few solo efforts, while also moving behind the scenes as a sound engineer. He also tried his hand at acting, appearing as the Apostle John in the controversial Last Temptation of Christ which may have alienated a part of his audience. (I wasn’t impressed with his decision, but I partially understood where he was coming from). Most recently he was sound engineer for his son’s band, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. He and The Call, however, will always hold a special place in my heart and mind for showing that you could live and lead with your faith without short-changing your intellect. As I read the news today, I couldn’t help but think of Been’s words from the song Surrender:

Well I know it’s going to end in laughter
Son, it’s going to end in joy
the surrender in the garden
don’t you run dead poet no more

Here are some videos from The Call, starting with their biggest hit, Let the Day Begin:

I Still Believe:

The Walls Came Down:

Finally, Surrender (pardon the 5-second commercial at the beginning):

The old man gets rubbed out

by the Night Writer

When I was younger my athletic endeavors gravitated toward the whacking and smacking games like football and hockey. Even when I played the more “finesse” games like soccer and basketball, my style tended to be more physical; in all games I was never going to be the one to make the pinpoint pass or long-range shot but I took a savage satisfaction from re-arranging someone’s internal organs or surviving a similar attempt on my own. That was fun for a few seasons but it took a toll on my body — though most of the payments were deferred well into the future. Consequently I have been seeing a chiropractor for the past couple of weeks.

I have also been continuing the Bible studies with the men in the Red Wing correctional facility, some of whom have spent significant time in heavy security prisons such as Oak Park and Stillwater before coming to Red Wing. In our last meeting we were talking about becoming new creations in Christ, and what that looks like in our lives. There was talk about putting off the “old man” and putting on the “new man”. I try to be as down to earth as possible in these discussions and my recent health experiences gave me a useful example.

I told the guys about the three surgeries I’ve had on my left knee since I was in college, and how lately I’ve been experiencing chronic pain above my right hip and periodic numbness and weakness in my legs. When I accompanied my daughter on her visit to a chiropractor to have her baby “spun” before delivery I ended up having an exam of my own. After I described my symptoms the doctor had me stand up straight while she took some notes and measurements, then she had me lie on a massage table for more of the same as she determined that I didn’t have a disc problem. Long story short, however, the combination of pain and numbness I’ve been experiencing wasn’t being caused by the hip, per se, but by all the years that I’ve been favoring my left leg and making the right side do most of the work. Standing “straight” my posture was three inches forward of it’s proper axis and also twisted a bit to one side. The doctor also described how pressure had stressed several of my joints and ligaments to where they were virtually locked at level 5 on a 5-point scale, or, in more descriptive terms, at “red alert” on the fight or flight scale. I was a little dubious about the diagnosis, but after she put me back on the table and pressed steadily on various parts of my body for thirty minutes I got up and couldn’t believe the sudden increase in range of motion, the absence of pain and how I suddenly felt two inches taller and ten years younger. I went home that afternoon like a new man, able to bend and stoop to pick up things without first thinking out a strategy.

That feeling, I told the men, was like first receiving salvation or the revelation of Christ and the Holy Spirit living within me. In getting up from that massage table I suddenly felt free of the things I’d done to myself and the mistakes of my youth, and even from the things I hadn’t realized were hurting me and distorting my life. The rest of that day and the next I felt great, but inevitably my “flesh” overcame me as my body started to revert back to what it had been accustomed to. Old habits – and old muscle memory – are hard to break. Now I go back to the chiropractor to receive further adjustments, and each time there’s less work for her to do and more response from my “new” man. For the guys, I compared these ongoing adjustments to going to church or Bible study regularly. I make progress each time, but the “old” body still wants to come back during the in-between. Conceivably, there could come a time when I’ve been totally “renewed” and don’t need the chiropractor to lay hands on me other than for maintenance. What I especially wanted the men to understand, however, is that if I truly want to make progress I need to do the exercises and stretches the doctor gave me to do in between times; it has to become something that I take on for myself. Otherwise I’ll simply be looking to the doctor to make things better without changing anything myself — just as we can sometimes do with our pastors or with going to church or Bible study. Sure, I might get temporary relief or encouragement, but without a personal change and commitment the results will be both fleeting and diminishing. To do that, I may have to change my stance or mentally catch myself when I start to fall into an old, familiar posture and deliberately shift my weight and re-align myself.

A final thought: I spent all those years consciously and unconsciously favoring my left leg, thinking I was doing something “good” by trying to make its life easier. The end result, however, was that that leg became weaker (approximately 85% the size of my right leg) AND the distortion ended up weakening my “good” side, causing pain and restricting the things I can do. Favoring the left leg did it and me no favors in the long run; we need to accept and understand that doing the things we need to do may be uncomfortable and even painful in the short term but will ultimately pay off. Similarly, we may need to look at others in the body of Christ the same way. Not that we should be deliberately callous or unsympathetic — it is “our” body after all — but expecting others who come to us in crisis to stretch and exercise is ultimately good for them. Certainly there are times when an arm or a leg needs to be in a sling or cast and supported, but those parts also need physical and spiritual therapy lest they become too dependent. When that happens our good intentions and their dependence can end up distorting the joining and knitting of our joints and keeping us from reaching out (in even greater strength because of our rehabilitated members) to others who need help.

Shameless bragging.

by the Mall Diva

The Baby Moose is 11 days old.  He is consistently a 10pm, 2am, 6am feeder. He eats like a piggy (seriously, snorts and everything, and he gained a gross weight of 1lb, 10oz during his first 7 days on earth), sleeps like a rock, and is perpetually charming. Plus he has tons of hair and inch-long eyelashes. Many women will be jealous, except Mommy, from whom he got them. He’s already started working out with Daddy (who is his jungle gym), climbing and grunting like a champ. He’s the most impressive thing our midwife has ever seen. And I think, after a 48-hour un-medicated labor, I deserve all these things.

Oh, and I’ve lost at least 25lbs.

Tune in next time for more shameless bragging!