bierkergaard

A week or so before Christmas, there was a package on my front porch. I noticed that it had been sent from Germany. My first thought was something like, "Hmm, is there a Unabomber-like dude in Germany who doesn't like me for some reason?" I really couldn't figure out who would be sending me a package from the Fatherland. Plus, my wife's name was misspelled. I dismissed my paranoia and opened the package. I was blessed to see it was a book written by Dr. Stephen  Beck. He and his wife serve as workers for the Gospel in Europe (the least evangelized continent in the world). We support their ministry through  Greater European Mission. The book Smart Builder  (Chrome translates the page into English) has been a strong consolation throughout the Cold War I have been fighting with this crafty virus. No coughing, lost my voice, blowing snot out the nose like toothpaste. A weird illness. And tired like hell. Finally starting to feel better after about a ten day wa

I decided to stop on Sunday. Really stop. Like not move more than ten feet from my couch if I could help it. I did watch football and read sections of John Calvin's Commentaries on James.   If you have been perusing the blog this week, you know it has been the "Cold Chronicles" detailing my successes and failures in beating back a cold like a wild dog. Throughout last week, I didn't take a day off of work. I had too much to do and could not afford to miss a day. We are in a semester change (year is half-over) and the transition is a challenging traverse with schedule changes, new students registering, and the various other sundry duties of a school counselor. So I had to let the cold dog gnaw at my leg all week. A sick day would have caused me to be so far behind that all I would have done was sat at home worrying about all that I needed to do. So, I toughed it out. I didn't feel bad but didn't feel great either. That gray area of some sickness, but mostl

Random thoughts can be like pieces of paper strewn about. Here is my attempt to straighten them up: Just made some coffee. When it comes to the end of the brewing process, the coffee maker lets out a final giant sigh of sorts. It means that some fine java will soon be in my cup piping hot. Aren't sighs kind of like when the grounds of our lives are exhausted and we are not exactly exasperated but perhaps sad about something? When in Asheville, NC. for Christmas vacation, we ate at a tapas place. Is tapas the Spanish word for "still hungry?" While I love tapas menus, there always seems to be not enough food. I am thinking women are more pro-tapas than men. We males want a lot of food...i.e. a big old pizza with everything including the kitchen sink on it. Reminds me of a Food and Wine festival Lina and I went to in Aspen a few years ago when she was working on a gourmet brand of chocolate. We had to wait sometimes for 30 minutes in a line for something gross like a