Bless

 

When our children were young we’d tuck them in at bedtime, read them a Bible story, and say a prayer we had improvised for them: “God bless Sarah, and keep her safe and well and happy.” And “God bless Matthew and keep him safe and well and happy.”

At the time, I now realize, I gave little thought to what lay behind our simple “God bless” prayers. . . .

That’s from the introduction to my new book, The God Who Blesses, fifty reflections intended to answer the broader question, “What exactly do we mean by bless?” One could say that every non-fiction book project arises from a question the writer wants answered. Until now, though, I‘ve never had a single word inspire any of my books. But bless, along with its cognates of blessing and blessedness, became a thought-trigger that prompted me to explore a concept that is paradoxically familiar yet also little understood. Surprisingly little is written about bless and blessing; I found only scholarly material on the topic and as a result I wanted to write something accessible to non-theologians like myself.

Bless has a wide range of meanings. It’s most often used in the sense of wishing people well, as for example with the blessing of dismissal at the end of a church service. The word also serves as a “thank you.” Elsewhere, we read in the Psalms, “Bless the Lord, O my soul,” revealing that the word can also mean “praise.” And we’re all familiar with the casual uses of the word, as in saying “Bless my heart!” or “Bless you” after someone sneezes.

Sound interesting? If so, let me invite you to look at The God Who Blesses, which probes the ins and outs of a single word that I found worthy of exploration.

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PS: As those of you getting reminders about new blog postings already know, the publisher has as a promotion made the book available as a free Kindle download from Amazon, until August 31. Here’s the link” https://www.amazon.com/d/B0BBRNC642/

And you’d be doing me a great favor if you’d forward this link to friends and family whom you think might enjoy The God Who Blesses.

 

 

Lost and Found

 

I lost a word recently. Well, misplaced it. We were talking about my 2-week-old granddaughter, Hazel,. One of us commented on the indentation between her nose and her lip. What’s that called? I knew there was a word for it but I couldn’t think of it. The next day it came to me: Philtrum.

But what if it had been lost? If I hadn’t recalled the word, I would have consulted my collection of unfamiliar words. For several years I’ve kept a Word document (that’s appropriate) listing such words. I may have included it there. (I had.) The words range from aburidashi – a Japanese form of writing in invisible ink, to zarf, an Arabic word to use next time you’re ordering your venti non-fat triple-shot decaf persimmon-flavored coffee. The word means “sleeve.” It’s that thin cardboard insulation they put over the cup.

I also keep a list of foreign expressions, like the French saying that translates as “the good old days when we were so unhappy.”

Then there are the truly lost words, which aren’t in my list because I foolishly didn’t make a note of them when I first heard them. One describes languages like Italian, most of whose words end with a vowel. Despite a Google search, I’ve not been able to find the term. Another lost word is from the legal field. It’s the offence of avoiding a delay at a red traffic light by cutting through a gas station or other business premises.

Think of the “lost and found” collection at your local supermarket. (Disregard for the moment the paradox of something being simultaneously both lost and found.) Wouldn’t it be helpful to have a comparable service for lost words? “Ah, yes, I think I found it: philtrum; is that what you were looking for, sir?”

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Names

 

Let me introduce you to Hazel and Sophie. They’re Sue’s and my granddaughters, who arrived last Thursday morning, July 28.

Our daughter, Sarah, and her husband, Mike, settled on these names earlier but kept them secret until the twins arrived. But now, for the rest of their lives, everywhere that Hazel and Sophie go, those two appellations—Hazel and Sophie—will go with them. For our names are the most important words that we learn, and which accompany us on our life’s journeys.

For now, Hazel and Sophie have all the challenges of infancy to master, one of which will be to learn the sound of their own names, or whatever nicknames their parents may give them. But then they will round about the age of 2 begin to acquire other words. Having earlier picked up mama or dada, or other simple words, the girls’ vocabulary will suddenly explode in a verbal torrent and they’ll start saying things like porcupine, cabbage and mattress.

Sometimes parents engage in odd, sad or downright bizarre naming behaviors. We know of a Spokane family who named their child Snake. Then there’s the example from New Zealand, reported by the BBC in 2008. A judge considered the case of a nine-year-old girl, who was made a ward of the court so that she could legally change her given name: Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii. The girl’s new name was not made known.

The BBC invited responses to its article, one of which came from a Londoner named Ftango Molasses. Someone else wrote, “No-one ever considered that the child might like the quirkiness of their name. Nothing has ever held back my development or progress….. Everyone calls me Eggy. I don’t see the problem.” His name? Egnorwiddle Waldstrom.

Frankly, I much prefer Hazel and Sophie.

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