Sleeping Dogs

One of the little grammar hang ups that had me, well, hung up for years was the whole "lay, lie" situation.  Which didn't bother me, even when writing for newspapers, because there was always a handy reference guide and an editor to make the save.

Then I had kids.  And heard myself yelling, night after night, "LAY DOWN!" 

Which is incorrect.

Now, I've noticed that my kids say things like "yeah" and "like" a lot.  They say what I say, and it's less than ideal and we're working on it.  But a lot worse [read: harder to root out] than yeah and like are clear grammar errors that will plague them forever and make them look dumb to people who know. 

Since this is a common one (when we studied both verbs in CC last year, a lot of moms were confused) I'm going to lay it out for you, as the first of a few grammar blogs.  I hope someone takes it to heart because fixing things in ourselves (not just grammar, but attitudes and behaviors too!) is the best way to instill good habits in our kids.

Ok. The reason I was wrong when I yelled "lay down" is because to lay means to put.  It was like yelling "drop it!" when I meant to yell just, "DROP!"

To lay is to put.  To lie, on the other hand, means to recline.  Put differently, you lay other things; you yourself lie.

All the drama comes from the past tense, because, in a cruel twist, the past tense of to lie is....lay.

So, today I will lie on the couch just as yesterday, I lay on the couch.

But I will lay my plate of cheesecake beside me, just where I laid it yesterday.

And at the end of the day, as I lie by the cheesecake that I've laid on the couch, I probably will have to yell, "LIE DOWN!"

Praying Down a Bunny Trail

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances…” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18  

I’m reminded again of Paul Miller’s suggestion that prayer gives us front row seats to the redemptive action on the floor.  I’m in need of reminding because I regularly revert back to this movie-culture mindset.  I’ll try to articulate the heresy of my semi-conscious for you.

So I’ll start praying for some specific situation.  But I’ll try to pray in such a way that I’m not fixating on one result.  I’ll say all the “not my will but Thine” things that a prayer might require to be taken seriously.  I’ll try to foresee all the things that a resounding “No” could eventually bring about, like running out of gas and missing kickoff but then running into an old friend at the gas station, thus justifying God’s choice to me.  I’ll get frustrated with the Psalms because they are so life-and-death and they feel a little dramatic for my purposes, or maybe they just trivialize my interests.

And after all this, I’ll have a transcendent moment where I feel like I’ve really embraced God’s sovereignty over said situation.  And here’s the movie-culture part.  As soon as I feel this, there’s an unconscious intake of breath and a pause. 

Because in a movie, all the angst is just about learning the lesson.  So at the moment of lesson-learning, the problems are miraculously resolved.  So I pause.  Unconsciously, I think I said.

As if my feeling really open to anything should mean that an answer is imminent.

And then I catch hold of my rambling thoughts and feel stupid.  But the good part is that, in feeling consciously idiotic, I can again rejoice in the truth that the whole prayer process is what makes a relationship.  So the longer I’m kept hanging on one question, the more we’ll have to chat.  And when we chat more, all kinds of things much bigger than that question might happen.

“We have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties.” ~ Oswald Chambers 

Life Skills

Here's a lite bite for Monday.  I have continual trouble with the graceful phone exit.  I just can't disengage decisively.  It goes something like this:

The Summation of Accord:
Me: "Ok, then." Them: "Ok."

The Initiation of Closure:
Me: "Take it easy!"  Them: "Great. Talk to you soon."

The Awkward Pause.

The Simultaneous Reaction in Falsely Bright Tones:

"Ok! Bye!"

(Giggle.Click.)