Once again, he returns.

We are celebrating this weekend.  Once again, the Lord has returned my husband to me safe and sound.  The company sent Seth away for training again, this time to the Netherlands for two weeks.  My navy wife friends would tell me that two weeks is nothing.  As I tell my new civilian friends, two weeks is barely time enough to get in a good groove without him.  Actually two weeks is barely enough time to get over the frenetic feeling of absence that lurks in the background each time he leaves. It's barely enough time to get the house ready for him to get back (especially if my dog brings in a tidy collection of fleas in the meantime.) 

Seth's frequent absences give me pause to reflect on the difference between military and civilian life.  My civilian friends are astonished at how calmly I refer to Seth leaving for weeks on end.  They say, quite honestly that they "can't imagine how I can" . . . whatever the situation requires.  I once said that to an experienced Navy wife when I was young and naive and newly embarked on the challenge.  Now, being experienced in departures and the recipient of such comments, I find that I can't really explain how I cope with the sudden foisting of total household responsibility on my shoulders. The answer is, the same way any sane woman would cope: do what needs to be done and go a little insane in the process. 

But now he's back, and we have a pleasant prospect on the horizon.  The company is going to send him back to the Netherlands for three months at some undetermined date (in that way they're even worse than the Navy!), and we get to go too.  Granted, we'll have to pay for our own plane tickets, but the housing and transportation will be covered.  Seth would work five days a week, but we would have the weekends to tour Europe on the company's fuel expense account.  I'm more than a little intidmidated by the prospect -- other languages, new places, more new faces, new neighbors. 

Then there's also the fact that with every dream achieved, something dies.  The Netherlands is where my ancestors came from.  It holds a certain mystical appeal.  I'm afraid that once I've been there, it will be just one more place.  It's a silly fear, I know.  England didn't lose any magic by a three month stay there.  My expectations of England weren't particularly realistic, and I'm sure neither are my expectations of Holland.  All of my pictures seem to be based on books written during or about World War II.  That was a time ago.  A lot of things have changed since Europe recovered from Hitler.  Maybe I should go check them out.

***

I've finished chapter seven of Scot McKnight's Fasting, and my dominant thought is definitely "Well,when do we eat?"   In establishing a body calendar, which means using our bodies to participate the holy events and hopes of the church by fasting, he cites so many instances of fasting that I begin to feel deprived just reading about it.  The early church fasted ritually on Wednesdays and Fridays but never on Sundays.  The later Catholic church and the Greek Orthodox fasted during Lent, Advent, and before Pentecost, eating only one meal a day.  The church at the time of St. Augustine fasted before each taking of the Eucharist (presumably on Sunday), using the bread and wine as breakfast, so St.  Augustine encouraged the church to hold the Eucharist no later than 3 pm, lest people get hungry.  You know, I'm kind of glad I'm not a Catholic.  That would mean waiting for Mass every day to eat.

I see his point.  Fasting before each of the major blessings of the Christian year would definitely help us cultivate a deeper sense of the blessing that we receive.  How many times have we heard pastors and laymen complain that we don't really appreciate what Jesus did for us at Christmas or at Easter?  Fasting would definitely take an edge off the secular commercialism that plagues and annoys us each holiday season.  And weekly stationary fasting definitely helps keep us connected to the spiritual purposes of life.  Maybe my preemptive  empty stomach is just the flesh wailing, "Noooo.  How can you consider doing that to me?"
So I skipped to the end of the book where he promises to tell us exactly what we would be doing to our bodies and read about potential traps, benefits, and dangers of fasting, just to make sure I know what I'd be doing to my spirit and my flesh.  One thing McKnight makes very clear:  fasting is not a self-help measure.  It is not a purification method or weight loss technique.  There are very real dangers to the heart and other body systems if it's pursued too stringently.  And there are very real dangers to the spirit if it is pursued for righteousness'sake, to prove one's piety, pursued under rules too strict or not to the point.  The pitfalls of fasting are so many that at one point, McKnight acknowledges that they're enough to make a person think about abandoing the pursuit all together.  This, he maintains, is not an option.  Not everyone can fast; not everyone will fast, but everyone should desire the unity of person that fasting represents.