Rain, I don't mind...

Even thunderstorms, I don't mind. A tornado, however... Sirens are squalling here in M-town, so I hope everyone is home safely. I can't help it, though, I love storms. I particularly love a coming storm. My dad is a little nervous of them, so when I was younger, Dad would herd us all into the laundry room. I guess we were supposed to be serious and scared, but I never was--some of my fondest memories in our old house are of the four of us, folded up in the laundry, dad listening to a portable radio or television on low volume, mom singing the Our Father with us. However, I'm sure that if a tornado touched down around here somewhere, I wouldn't be so keen. I remember there was a tornado touched down about 15 years ago or so, and our church received enough damage to keep us from meeting there for a while. Got repaired, of course. My roomie (a business major at the UofM) tells me that that church is in the wealthiest zip code in Tennessee, so I'm not sure how much of a tax it was to get it all fixed up. Still, it did "hit home," as it were.

I myself am just getting home from my grandmother's house. I go over there and read out loud every week--my grandmother (oh, and my sister) is the only one in the family who enjoys that kind of thing, and unless I'm with dear Sally, who holds court as Queen of the Castle in the Sea, it's the only chance I get to read out loud to anyone, except myself, which is not nearly as good. We've read Lord of the Rings, all the Harry Potter books, and now (thanks to Sally, to whom I now bow very ceremoniously) we're reading Rosemary Sutcliff books.

But I want to mention something I saw tonight which is impressive and typical of my grandmother. My grandmother (really, both my grandmothers) is a great reader of Scripture (KJV, of course). She reads the Bible through every single year, and has for as long as I can remember. Tonight I chanced to open the copy of Holy Writ she's using this year to the back cover pages, and I saw that it was completely covered with handwritten lists in three columns: (1) references, (2) "It says" and (3) "Should be." I said something like, "I know you know your Bible, granny, but 'should be?' Surely your not making wild theological speculations?" She said, "Oh no. Every Bible I've ever gotten has been perfect ("Naturally, granny, naturally"), but this one is so full of mistakes that I got annoyed and started listing them all. I wanted this one, because it had no commentary and no red-letter, but now..." So I started checking, and sure enough, the ol' scribe for this copy must've been asleep at the ink horn, because every single scrutiny was spot on. My family is Protestant, and that Bible, my Catholic friends, is all they've got. You've gotta hand it to 'em. As random and arbitrary as I think sola scriptura is as a doctrine which inevitably heaves away so much Christianity (I don't mean to offend, but it's what I think), for those who take it seriously, there's a manic rigor to it by which I can't help but be impressed. No commentary, and no red-letter, thanks very much...and by the way, you misspelled "Shibboleth;" it's two b's, dear, not one. And I can't find it in myself to be sorry I was raised in that atmosphere.

Anyway, if you don't want to think about that, then listen to the Beatles! And I've just described the 60s for you.