I pause the video. The title card reads:

Chaos

The images that word evokes in the context of the film make me smile. In my mind, the scene plays out perfectly. 'It's going to be so cool!' I tell myself. And for the moment, I'm happy. Content. Thrilled to be working on this project because it's so much fun!

When will you get to see it?

If all goes well, June 1. This video is slated to be a main feature in our 2010 Live Virtual Meetup.

I attempt to film the chaos scene tomorrow morning. I hope it goes well because it is the climax of the movie. It's also complicated and messy... the way you'd expect chaos to be. But that's not great for film making where you want things controlled and precise. Plus, I haven't worked out all the details yet. That's the problem with things in your head: They're perfectly vague... just detailed enough to be awesome but not clear enough to be concrete.

I'm going to talk through the sequence with Brittany tonight. It's very nice being married to a girl you've been shooting films with for over 5 years. I can tell her, "I need you to make me some blunt force trauma wounds," and she says, "Sweet, I'll look up photos on the internet."

I love that girl. Experienced, helpful, willing to work with me.

Wish there was someone like that for your yet-to-be-detailed homeschool plans?

There is!

Chat with a Sonlight Homeschool Advisor to get an experienced, helpful, willing-to-work-with-you person with whom you can solidify your choices. Because--while in certain contexts it can be fun--chaos isn't a very nice place to live. I'd rather you be happy. Content. Thrilled to be homeschooling because it's so much fun!

 ~Luke Holzmann
Filmmaker, Writer, Surrogate Father

"I'm growing increasingly less confident that God cares."

I can't blame him. First, his dad. Now my niece. Tons of other details and issues that comprise the sum of a rather disappointing life right now. For some unknown reason God does not respond when the stakes are high. He lets the truly terrible happen while providing--through elaborate and convoluted means--minor blessings in life here and there.

"I'd rather have people than things," he mumbles.

Agreed.

So, what's up, God? And since He rarely answers: What's God up to?

I don't know.

I've never known. Years of Scripture memorization, Bible studies, a minor in Bible from a Christian university, years of teaching Sunday School, study and discussion have left me where I am today: Clueless. Not because I don't have opinions or insights or ideas about all this, but because I don't know. I can't provide an answer that brings comfort or satisfactorily deals with the topic. And this is where what I call "Sunday School answers" fall so short. This is why I hate Christianese responses. This is why so many people are frustrated by the pat answers they teach us in Bible school. This is the problem:

The answer doesn't address the pain.

I've got my theology down pretty well. I can give you the correct response and I can clearly demonstrate how the majority of well-meaning comments in times like these are theologically errant. But so what?

Emotional pain is a heart issue, and textbook responses fail to reach the heart.

Well written literature gets much closer to the pain. But, as Thornton Wilder states:

"The business of literature is not to answer questions, but to state them fairly." I claim that human affection contains a strange unanalyzable consolation and that is all. People who are full of faith claim that the book is a vindication of this optimism; disillusioned people claim that is is a barely concealed "anatomy of despair." I am nearer the second group than the first; though some days I discover myself shouting confidentially in the first group.

End notes in The Bridge of San Luis Rey

So while literature tugs at our hearts, it does not push us one way or another.

Life does.

That's one reason I think it's essential to read biographies--both secular and Christian: So we can see how others have wrestled with these questions. And while these glimpses into the deeper issues of life won't give you all the answers, it will start you down the path.

Unfortunately, I'm finding, once you're on this path it's rather hard to walk.

And that is where others can be such a wonderful help. Please continue to pray for my family. This is proving to be a very difficult time.

...

One last benefit of literature: Since it is so good at touching the heart of an issue, it is often reiterated and rephrased throughout history as we continue to wade through the grime of life. I must say, I love Switchfoot's incorporation of Job in The Economy of Mercy (starting around 2:35 if you don't have time to listen to the whole song)...

 ~Luke Holzmann
Filmmaker, Writer, Surrogate Father

"What's your name?"

I look up from behind the short shelves of children's books. I find myself here every Saturday now. While I spend the time looking over other children's stories to see if I can gain any insights into children's literature, I'm not there for the books. I'm there to keep an eye on the two girls in my charge who are playing in the small castle featured in our library.

The girls love it.

"I wanna know your name," the girl whines. "What's your name?"

I'm terrible with ages, but she's probably five or six. She accosts the silent two and three year olds one more time. "Tell me your name."

'Oh no,' I think to myself. See, we've taught them to only give out their name when they've been given permission. We've encouraged them to be nice, polite and to greet others, but to be more possessive of their name.

This is obviously not true of the other girl. She appears to be from a system where divulging your name is the foundational ritual of all social interactions. And within the confines of a classroom, this makes sense. But this isn't a classroom. This is a public library. And loud talking whining is not socially acceptable.

The girl moves on, giving up on her quest. She heads to the stairs of the little castle and one in my charge follows.

"No!" she yells. "You can't come up here. There can only be one Queen and I'm the Queen. You can't come up here."

Undeterred by this ludicrous babble, the three year old again attempts to take the stairs. The bigger girl spreads her feet and grabs hold of the railing, blocking all entry.

"NO!" she yells again. "I'm the Queen and there can only be one Queen. And I say you can't come up here. You can't come up because I want to be alone. And I'm the Queen. And there can only be one Queen."

I almost ask this little troll where her parents are.

I almost remind her that this is a library and of the importance of being polite and that understanding social protocol is essential if one is to be queen. In short, to be quiet, like the two in my care who haven't raised their voices above a whisper since we entered the building 15 minutes ago.

I almost inform her that the two girls she is addressing care nothing of being queen. They want to be princesses. And of princesses there need be no limit.

Almost.

But I stand back, half obstructed by children's books, watching to see what will unfold. The six year old troll continues to shout about her self-appointed title ¹ and how it grants her exclusive rights to the castle--for, as she points out again and again, only the Queen can live in the castle, and there can only be one queen and that would be her.

When the girl's parents do not appear, I gently coach the three year old. "Use your words," I quietly remind.

"Please can you move?" she asks in a whisper. I almost explode with pride.

"No, I'm Queen," comes the loud and obnoxious reply.

My surrogate dauther turns to me. "Oh, she said, 'No.'"

"She did," I agree, nodding encouragingly. We've been working on not trying to force your will on another. You may make requests, but not demands. If your request is turned down, you must live with it.

The older girl has started up the last four steps to the upper level of the castle.

"She's moved," I tell mine. "You can go up now."

The troll stops and glares at the little girl. "No. I don't want her to come up," she says.

"That's too bad," I calmly reply.

The troll, completely unable to handle adult conversation, mounts the last few steps and sits down, singing to herself about how she is Queen.

Castle Queen of the Trolls

Once we're back in the car I tell the girls how proud I am of them for being quiet and nice despite the other girl. We tell Brittany when we get home.

My wife smiles.

"That's the perfect response to bullies. I'm so glad they didn't feed the troll."

Socialization is not a problem in this preschool.

 ~Luke Holzmann
Filmmaker, Writer, Surrogate Father

P.S. On a much more difficult note, I'm not sure I'll ever figure out the proper social technique for dealing with the loss of life: My family mourns the loss of Baby Grace.

¹For those of you not familiar with the xkcd web comic it often contains inappropriate content. This one is safe, but check out the other posts at your own risk.