beginning . . .

i am fascinated by blogs. people tell personal stories or share random details of their lives with complete strangers. is that how we build community these days?

anyways - i have been thinking about giving it a try for a little while. i will most likely write about what i am reading or learning at the moment. so i thought i would begin by telling a story. a beginning kind of story . . .

i am currently taking classes to obtain my master's degree in library science. in class a few weeks ago a professor of mine was speaking and to be honest i don't even remember what he was talking about. however, i do remember him repeating the phrase before the beginning - before the beginning. and it struck me odd. i think about time often and so time words sometimes sound funny in my ears. and then i realized why that phrase sounded so odd to me - it's supposed to be - in the beginning. sitting in that class i came to the conclusion that the entire idea of christianity started off in an upside-down kinda way. and this notion of a God who created a world more wonderful than we can believe and then entered into that world to be with us couldn't be more difficult to believe. he wasn't just before the beginning - he was right there in the middle of the beginning. he entered into our time and one day he will free us from the weight of time.

oh the things i am learning while i am supposed to be understanding the finer points of the dewey decimal system.

Alan Lightman has a similar interest in time - the following quote is from his wonderful book - Einstein's Dreams - "A man stands at the graveside of his friend, throws a handful of dirt on the coffin, feels the cold April rain on his face. But he does not weep. He looks ahead to the day when his friend's lungs will be strong, when his friend will be out of his bed and laughing, when the two of them will drink ale together, go sailing, talk. He does not weep. He waits longingly for a particular day he remembers in the future when he and his friend will have sandwiches on a low flat table, when he will describe his fear of growing old and unloved and his friend will nod gently, when the rain will slide down the glass of the window?"

is there a day in the future you are remembering?