Behind Infinity

This morning our admittedly well-intentioned pastor included in his congregational prayer a petition which simultaneously amused and aggrivated me. He prayed for single people, asking God to help us in our struggles against loneliness, and that we would not give in to the temptations that plague single people, “temptations, Lord, to pity themselves, and to be covetous.” And he stopped there, which was rather surprising…the way things were going I half I expected him to go on and begin pleading with God to raise up Godly spouses for our poor lonely souls so that our dysfunctional singleness can be remedied and we might go on to live happily married Christiany-Christian lives.

Perhaps I’m just being too sensitive and/or cynical, but whenever pastor or some other joyously married individual says or prays something like that, my mind begins to churn. I start to wonder, do my single pals and I really seem like the bunch of pathetic sad sacks that this prayer makes us out to be? I mean, of course you have to overlook my friend Micah, because we all know that he’s just a fountain of self pity. But for the most part I always do my best to keep from interrupting the wedded bliss of my married brothers and sisters with whining and moaning about how I’m soooooo lonely and wish I had a man in my life to make me not lonely anymore.

Huh?

I appreciate the kindhearted intention behind the poorly-worded prayers. My hunch is that after romping around in the hearts and roses of mawage for a little too long, it may be easy for some people to forget how they ever managed to survive before their beloved honeysweetums entered their life. To them, the prospect of life without their S.O. must seem like a day without sunshine. But I don’t need or want to be pitied or treated like a special case and sometimes it takes a bit of effort not to resent the entirely unintended implication that I must surely be self-pitying, covetous, and drowning in loneliness because I don’t have a significant other. I mean, single people don’t have a monopoly on loneliness–I’ve seen enough marriages to know that having a warm body beside you in bed at night isn’t some sort of magical cure for loneliness (in fact, if you throw in the right combination of emotional distance and communication problems, it can even cause it.)

So then, how should we pray for single people?

At this point in my life, I am (for the most part) actually quite thankful for my singleness and for the benefits and opportunities it affords and while I hope to get married someday (and sometimes may make noise to that effect), I’m really in no rush. I mean, right now I can spend my money however I want, and flirt with whoever I want, and hang out with whoever I want, whenever I want! How’s that for awesome?? But also–and I’m being serious now–two or three evenings a week I am welcomed into the homes of the families whose children I teach Latin and violin and I usually don’t leave until 8:30 or even sometimes 9:30, after a full night of lessons, dinner, and good conversation (not necessarily in that order). I get to be an important part of my students’ lives and minister to them in a way that would likely be impossible if I was needed at home to get dinner on the table and iron my husband’s pants. Teaching in this way is something special that I get to do because I am single, not in spite of it. And conversely, I have little time or opportunity to be lonely or feel sorry for myself when surrounded not only by the love of my family and friends, but also the affection of these students and their parents. In my relationships with these families, the ministry definitely goes two ways.

We thank God for marriage and pray for married people that they might honor God with their marriages. So if we’re making the distinction between married and single in our prayers, let’s thank God for singleness and the particular opportunities it has for ministry within the church and the world, and instead of simply saying, “Help poor, single Brittany not to be lonely, self-pitying, and covetous,” you can pray for single people, that we would be honoring God with our singleness and fulfilling his call for our single lives. Because if we’re doing that well, then there’s going to be no room for loneliness, self-pity, and covetousness.

Today is Veterans’ day. I think it’s important that we recognize this oft-overlooked holiday. If you know a veteran, maybe think about giving them a call or stopping by.

I am extremely proud of and grateful for the three World War II veterans I can claim in my lineage. The first of them is my grandpa Tom Dempsey, who served as a Marine and was at Iwo Jima. My paternal grandpa, Chester Hunter, was in the Navy, and he was at Pearl Harbor during the attack. And my paternal grandma Vivian Hunter was a leutenant in the army, serving as a nurse with the Navy for most of her career.

Last night I went with some friends to see the movie Flags of our Fathers. In general, war movies aren’t my thing, but I had a special motivation to see this one on account of Grandpa’s involvement in that battle. I wanted to see it to better understand this part of his life, which we hardly ever mentioned yet it was such a part of him, too.

The movie was done quite well, in my opinion. I like Clint Eastwood’s work. The cinematography was quite good, and reflective of the chaos and terror of the battlefield. The movie wasn’t overly gory, but there was enough horrific stuff that it really impressed upon the viewer the horriffic nature of the battle. Of war.

Seeing it was an almost sacred experience for me. I cried a lot, because the movie told the story of his experience: in each scene, I could look and say, “Grandpy was there.” On the decks of the boats. Below in the bunks. In the hordes of men rushing up on the beach. In the caves.

In the foxholes.

I knew all of this before. But watching the movie brought it to life. And that’s such a cliche phrase, but that’s the only way I can think to put it. I saw men clad in their uniform pants and t-shirts in the below decks of the battle cruisers, lying in their bunks and playing cards and swearing. Smoking while they listened to Tokyo Rose broadcasts. My Grandpa would have been so out of place in that environment. I’ll bet men made fun of him. He never played cards, he never smoked, and the strongest language he ever used was “for cryin’ out loud”. I could imagine him on his bunk, writing letters and reading his Bible and his dictonary. Grandpa loved words. He memorized a page of the dictionary each day during the war. I seem to recall being told that he was in the D’s when he was honorably discharged in December 1945.

Grandpa was among the first of the hordes of men to descend on the beach of that 2 mile by 5 mile rocky, lifeless little island, in the midst of gunfire and explosions and bazookas. He wore the same uniform as those men, the same helmet. I brought his helmet for show-and-tell at school when I was in kindergarden.

He fought, too. There were guns in the movie, rifles that I recognized because he had one exactly like them, which he showed me a time or two when I was downstairs in the basement with him. The guns in the movie were shooting bullets. Just like his would have. I still can’t quite grasp that my softhearted Grandpa shot bullets out of a rifle at Japanese. Came face to face with them when he scouted the caves. And saw many, many wounded men and bloodied dead bodies.

And he saw that flag flying high atop Mount Suribachi.

The war wasn’t something we talked about a lot, if ever. It was only mentioned in passing once in awhile. When it was relevant. Which is understandable. You don’t just go on and on about war, you don’t bring it up very often or with just anybody. He rarely talked about himself anyway, and when he did, it was always about happy things like his family growing up. Grandpa did, however, write down a sort of memoir about his experiences before he passed away last year. He was also the type of person who saved everything, including wartime letters from his family (written on special paper and then shrunk down) and his letters to them. After his death, Grandpa’s sisters went through all this stuff and put it in order and put it away for us. I hope someday–maybe over Christmas break–to be able to go through it and type it up, assemble the pieces into an accessible format, so it can be more readily shared among the family, and who knows, perhaps others as well.

Now, two of my three special veterans have passed away. This is the first Veterans’ day in which both of my grandpas are gone, which somehow increases the significance to me. All these years later, we have reached a sort of twilight with regards to our WWII veterans–most of them are in their 80s now and will be passing away soon. I get a bit sad when I think that in just a few years, the last of these heroes will pass from our world and there will be none left. They were a great generation.

As they pass away, their stories do too. I am always glad when I hear of projects like this one which are working to preserve these personal, eyewitness accounts. I am glad that before he passed away, my family had an evening when we were able to sit around the kitchen table and hear his account of Pearl Harbor. And I am glad to know that Grandpa Dempsey, as tough as it must have been for him, took the time and effort to preserve his account for us as well. I’m very eager to delve into it.

Here’s my heartfelt thank-you to all of the men and women who served and are serving in the Armed Forces. Today, this means John, this meens Will, this means Stephen, this means Joel. God protected my 1944 heroes in the midst of such incredible danger. May he guide, guard, and protect you, too.

Photos in this post, from the top: Grandpa Dempsey, Grandpa Hunter, Grandpa Dempsey with his buddies on New Years’ Day 1945, Grandpa Dempsey and his brother Ray at the WWII Pacific theature memorial, just weeks before he passed away. Below: Grandpa Dempsey in Benton Harbor after the war with his ticket home. On the back of this photo his mother wrote: “Isn’t that ticket beautiful? he should have framed it”

The CDC has released a fact sheet about a newly recognized condition known as Latin exposure. Seeing as I have a lot of Latinist and friends-of-Latinist readers, I figured it would be prudent and helpful to post it here, because I’m all about keeping the public informed.

What is Latin exposure? Latin exposure, similar to sun exposure, is the state of having been exposed to too much Latin.

Are there any illnesses related to Latin exposure? Yes. Greek exposure, Anatomy & Physiology exposure, and Organic Chemistry exposure are a few related illnesses which have similarly devastating symptoms.

What are the Signs and Symptoms of Latin Exposure? Those who suffer from Latin exposure exhibit a wide range of symptoms and behaviors, both physical and psychological. Aberrant sleeping patterns and sleeplessness are common, as well as dreams involving Latin, Cicero, or an unfavorite professor. Those suffering from extreme Latin exposure (i.e. before an upcoming exam or during a particularly difficult semester) may also display a sudden uncharacteristic lack of regard for their appearance, wearing unflattering or mismatched clothing, no socks or mismatched ones, or old shoes caked with horse manure (if the Latin-exposed person in question has a horse) or in extreme cases, no shoes at all. Hair may be unkempt, and it is not uncommon for a male Latin-exposed-person to go an entire semester without a haircut or neglect his facial hair. One sufferer reported that she forgot to take a shower for several days in a row. Female Latin-exposed-persons who previously wouldn’t leave the house without makeup have been known to go days without touching a mascara tube–and then, only when in the car. Sudden changes in weight are also common, either weight gain from too many hours spent studying and not enough spent running, or weight loss from food abstention during times of extreme Latin-related stress. Finally, affected persons generally have pale skin from poor nutrition and too much time spent in the library, away from the sun’s rosy rays.

The physical symptoms, however, are only outward signs of a deeper psychological disturbance. Many affected persons reported experiencing a state of uncharacteristic absentmindedness, causing them to forget the mundane details of life such as appointments, the date or day of the week, mealtimes, and family members’ names. They may also display an aversion to social interaction and an avoidance of gatherings of friends, answering warmly and politely but cutting things short by claiming they have studying to do. The affected person may also lose interest in other previously enjoyed activities such as symphony concerts, television shows, their family, playing a musical instrument, pets, physical activity, etc. in favor of studying to get that A. They may exhibit strange language patterns, writing and talking in awkward and grammatically incorrect “translation-ese” which consists of overusing passive constructions and participles and employing awkward word order which they consider perfectly acceptable because “it’s OK in Latin”. Sometimes an affected person may seem “not right”, as affected persons may laugh senselessly in a maniacal fashion, mumble strange things under their breath, or shout agitatedly at their textbooks or their professors. Also contributing to this image, they might indulge in the sort of humor which most people would construe as extremely dark disturbing involving homicide, suicide, or both.

Who is at risk for Latin exposure? Thus far, Latin exposure has only been exhibited in Latinists and students of Classical languages. Those who tend to be “perfectionists”, or type A persons are also more susceptible. Members of the general population are not at risk for Latin exposure, although preliminary studies have shown that those closely associated with those affected by Latin exposure may begin to exhibit certain features of the condition such as irritibility, irregular speech patterns, and, if they share a house with a noisy Latinist who keeps odd hours, sleep disturbance is a problem.

How common is Latin exposure? Among those at risk for Latin exposure, the ratio of those affected is alarmingly high. Over 80% of all Latinists deal with some form of Latin exposure at one time or another, and those that don’t are either too young to be affected or imposter Latinists who will, sometime soon, fall away from the fellowship.

Are the effects of Latin exposure preventable? Yes. Don’t take it. Although experts are working on ways to prevent the affects of Latin exposure in already-exposed Latinists, the workers are few and the horizon is bleak.

I know someone who suffers from Latin exposure. Is there anything that can be done for them? Not really. Controlled studies have shown that attempts to moderate or prevent/prohibit a subject’s exposure to Latin can be extremely unpredictable with regards to their results and are usually ineffective. When prohibited from doing their studying and thus continuing their self-flaggelation and pilgrimage to that that all-important state of Latin nirvana, most test subjects simply became grumpy(ier), (more) irritable, and restless. The best thing one can do for their friend or family member, during those times when they are feeling the effects of Latin exposure in a particularly acute way is to leave them alone and let the Latin take its course. And if you really want to help, even the grumpiest and most stressed out test subjects exhibited consistently favorable results when a loved one or friend would check in every now and then, especially if said loved one/friend came bearing coffee (or another caffeinated beverage) and donuts or ice cream or M&M’s of the peanut variety.

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So um, yeah. I’ve been doing a lot of Latin lately. I had my first exam today and while it wasn’t the absolutely most demoralizing thing I’ve ever done, (the Classical World exams still hold that honored place in the annals of my life) it was right up there.

The sunset tonight was a perfect 10.

It couldn’t have come at a better time–the past couple of days have been kind of crazy, with some really wonderful parts and some upsetting ones.

But I like to think that tonight all the pink and the purple and the frothy blue and streaks of orange in the sky was designed with me in mind, an exquisite reminder that the Lord still loves me.