Soundtrack for a Thursday

Freedom by Michael W. Smith. There is something in this music that causes us dance, think, and seize the day. Instrumental.

Waiting for You by Ralph Walker. I have googled and searched and found no place where this CD can be purchased, but if you enjoy solo guitar in a Windham Hill Music style, you should have this CD. It has a special place in my collection because of the musician. Ralph is one friend that my husband and I have shared since long before we were husband and wife. Ralph used to call my house and ask us (my roommates and me) if we would mind him coming over to practice guitar while we did our work. We enjoyed doing our studying, bill paying, letter writing or chatting with exquisite background music. It is a great memory.

Ralph and his family still live in the Bay Area, but we have long since headed for the higher ground of a more affordable location. We did get a chance to see each other briefly a few summers ago, at the celebration of a friend's 40th birthday, and later with a visit in our home. He is a treasure.

If you are interested in pursuing some great guitar music (or need a DJ in the Bay Area), please contact Ralph at his website or by email. My love of his music is deeply personal, and I am filled with great joy and pride as I hear my friend play his guitar. He has worked hard to conquer the obstacles in his life, including the dark voices that haunt any of us that pursue creative endeavors. But, all that personal stuff put aside, this is a CD worth hunting down. Today, it fills my home with beauty and tranquility, two qualities that soothe my soul.

(Ralph was the friend I spoke of in this post.)

Thursday reflections

Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in Mankind;
And therefore never send to know
For whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
John Donne (1571-1630)

The Modern world is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad. The virtues have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone. Thus some scientists care for truth; but their truth is pitiless. And thus some humanitarians care only for pity; but their pity--I am sorry to say--is often untruthful.
G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936)

If I can stop one heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life in the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Emily Dickenson (1830-1886)

This collection of quotes is brought over from the fine blog of Dr. George Grant, a thoughtful, intelligent and caring man.

The "Welcome Home, Daddy" Throne

Roses and a new mug -- romance at its finest.

Grateful Saturday

My husband is home and we are happy, happy campers. My appreciation of his contribution to our family always increases during his annual trip. In the past, I have missed his co-laboring with me. We had five children in eight years, and when everyone was little my week alone was filled with extra-hard work. Now, the children do a lot of work around here, and we do fine in the "getting the jobs done" department. What I miss is his companionship, the chance to glance across the room and raise an eyebrow, speaking volumes without words. That's hard to do on a cell phone, talking from opposite coasts! But, now he is home, and we can raise all the eyebrows we need to, and happily.

Easter is tomorrow, and we are ready to celebrate the glorious truth of Christ's resurrection.

He is Risen! He is risen, indeed!

Amen.

Christina G. Rossetti (1830-1894)

Beneath Thy Cross

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon--
I, only I.

Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.

Inside views

My youngest and oldest, sharing a moment of coziness in the favored chair.



My frugal shopping nature got left in the van today. One glance at the Peet's Coffee bag and wham! it was in the cart. Peet's is the coffee equivalent of comfort food for me. It is the aroma of my Bay Area young adulthood, and the brewing, pouring and sipping all make my heart sing. A worthwhile investment on Thursday of Daddy Gone Week. He will appreciate the rich blend on Saturday morning, but I better make sure I save some. It doesn't last long.

Outside views

My time outside today reminded me that we live in a beautiful spot. The rain-that-seemed-like-it-would-never-end has scrubbed the skies, revealing the incredible blue that hides underneath. The bulbs are breaking through the mulch, and even a branch of oak leaves grabbed my attention. I enjoyed soaking up the beauty and freshness of a crisp and clear spring day.














For you, Allison!

Yesterday

Before our flat tire event last night, we had a sobering day as a family. It was the day we went to see my husband's aunt. My mother-in-law, a fabulous person that is worthy of a post all her own, is one of six children, and her family is filled with fascinating personalities. I am honored to have married into this heritage.

The youngest sister in the family, known as Aunt Banana when my husband was young, has a special place in our family. She has two sons that have visited with us through the years, she moved to a city just over an hour away 10 1/2 years ago, and we have had great times together. She married a man that loves children, and the hours spent swimming in their pool, boating on the waterways behind their house, and visiting on their patio are GREAT memories. When my fourth child was born, she came and spent five days with us and helped me adjust to life with a new baby. She cleaned, played, cooked, and let me rest. What bliss for a new mama. One afternoon, she found herself getting zero cooperation from my then three-year-old son. I had to take him aside, talk to him about apologizing, and then I sent him back to Aunt N. to make things right. Instead of apologizing, he looked at her with his big blue eyes and said, "You are a nasty thing." This was so out of character for him, and we both found it to be hysterical. It was a bonding moment for us.

For the last few years, dear Aunt N. has been battling cancer. She is now having to decide if she is going to stop all treatment and call in hospice. Yesterday we spent the day at her house, children playing in the spa that had been warmed up in their honor, and we talked with her sons and one daughter-in-law. It was a tender time, and my children did a good job of just hanging out in hopes of seeing their dear aunt. She was extremely tired, and we were only able to give a quick hug and hellos at the end of our stay. It became very clear to me that our reason for being there was to talk with her sons, to just BE THERE, and to not worry about anything else.

Our drive home was a sober one. This remarkable woman has always been the picture of vibrancy and energy, and her energy is spent. She is frail and foggy-headed as a result of the disease and its treatments. We talked about their questions, but mainly we drove in troubled silence. We have experienced the shock of deaths related to accidents, and had to deal with the suddenness of it all. The slow, agonizing path of cancer, and the uncertainty of what is happening in Aunt N's body, is not at all familiar to any of us. I was grateful for my children's company as we drove home. The silence in our car was filled with their love and compassion. I was proud of them for not demanding anything during our visit. They seemed to understand that we just had to hang out...and that nothing was to be expected. One thing I do know -- none of us regretted the time spent.

Amidst the day, our boys got the bliss of paddling around in the kyack. They enjoyed the freedom, and found hours of peace while gliding on the lagoon.

Waiting and watching

The night was breathtaking. A bright moon played hide and seek behind rapidly moving clouds, and the tall silhouettes of pine trees held her gaze. The air was cold, so she buttoned up her red and black checked coat and shivered as she watched the clouds and moon. Watching and waiting; waiting and watching. At last, the scene was colored by flashing blue and yellow lights, and the reverie with moon and silhouettes was broken. The three cars, scattered in disorderly fashion on the side of the road, had been noticed, and the parade of highway patrolmen and tow trucks arrived.

Yes, tonight's adventure included a flat tire for the "take Gram to her meeting" crew. Some large rock or brick or piece of wood was the culprit for three different cars. We are home safely now, and all are bundled into bed. I am deeply grateful for the friends of the traveler - the civil servants and tow company employees that answered our cry for help. I am thankful for my oldest son who told stories to his two young siblings as they waited in the tow truck. The cell phone, of course, was nestled cozily on the computer table at home, but our needs were met anyway. Amidst it all, I kept thinking, "It could be worse. It could be raining." And, for the first time in days, it wasn't. In its place, the dance of moon and clouds moved gracefully across the night sky.

Tuesday night

Two days down.

I miss my husband.

I love IKEA bookcases.

My children are great, but they miss Daddy.

My husband is safe and already has hilarious stories to tell.

I am tired.

I am filled with awe and respect for my single parent friends. You are amazing.

How many raindrops can fall in one day? Many. And they have all fallen right here. And still are falling.

Five children are asleep.

Coffee pot is set for the morning.

No books. No movies. To bed.

Good night.

Going ..... going ....... gone!

Many families experience the Business Trip as a regular thread in their family tapestry, but not this family. Every now and then I disappear for a day or two, but it is rare. Once a year, however, the daddy person, the man of my dreams, flies to Washington, D.C. with a large number of eighth graders to do the nation's capital for five days. This year the number of students is SIXTY (makes me shudder just to imagine it) with plenty of parents and chaperones coming along to make it safe and sound. The pace is rapid, the number of sites and sounds seen and heard is huge, and everyone (mostly) has a great time. Occasionally there is a bit of a problem (there was a hair lighting incident one year, and one or two rude students that made the chaperones earn their keep) but it always turns out to be a memory making adventure for the travelers.

On the home front we have had our share of excitement, too. The first year my husband did this tour, I was eight-plus months pregnant with child #3, and my "older" children were the ancient ages of 2 and 1. Needless to say, as I waddled into the airport with my double stroller at ten o'clock at night to greet my husband upon his return, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief that baby saw fit to stay put until Daddy got home. Since then we have had abscessed teeth for one child, babies that were only six weeks old (1996 and 1999), and the most recent trip included three full days in bed with bronchitis for yours truly . My nine-year-old daughter said at lunch today, "I wonder what will go wrong this year?" Truly, something big or small does go wrong each year, but it becomes a part of the jokes and "remember whens" of our life together.

This is a week off for our school program, so the routine will be different. Tomorrow I am taking my two older boys to the airport to see the travelers off, and then we are heading down the highway to the closest IKEA store to buy bookcases for us and some dear friends. I am sure we will take some time to evaluate the success (theirs) or the failure (mine) of our NCAA tournament teams, and sing along to some of our favorite tunes. But, they are thrilled (shocked!) that I have decided they can bring the laptop and watch Star Wars on the drive. It's about a two-and-a-half-hour drive (unless it is rush hour in the Bay Area, and then it could be five or more...no kidding) so they will enjoy the never-before-experienced movie in the car thing. The drive should be fun, but when we get home the job has only begun. Three bookcases will (hopefully) have been added to our family and we want them built and set up before my husband gets home. We'll see how that goes. Could it be part of the "what's going to go wrong" story for this year? We will soon find out.

Gardening, books, correspondence, cleaning the garage, writing, running, and, most importantly, preparing our hearts for Easter Sunday, are all on the list for this week. But, I have other ideas as well. Last night I sat in a dark living room with a little girl on my lap. We had turned off the lights so we could watch the lightning flash across the sky. The rain was pouring, and the hail was pounding on the skylight. It was exactly what we needed -- some special time to be quiet together. I am hoping and praying for time like that with each of my children this week, even if it means the weeds grow taller and the garage still looks like it has been ransacked. Hopefully there will be time for most of the list, but taking time to remember the lessons of Holy Week, and creatively arranging time for each child's heart to be heard, these are the important things. It's good to remember that before the week takes off running.

One quick side note: I want to thank you for reading A Circle of Quiet. I haven't made any public declarations of appreciation, and it is long overdue. What a pleasure to get acquainted with new people, to see those site meter numbers register higher than I ever could have imagined, and to have the double bonus of a place to remember what I consider important and to share it with others. I am grateful to you all for joining me here. REMEMBER that even though I continue to maintain my non-commentishness, you can always email me at the address linked on the sidebar. I have appreciated hearing from those that have written, and I like to put names to those site statistics. Thank you again!

Happy Spring to each of you!

Arthur Ransome (1884-1967)

We have been fans of Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons for years. We read this engaging story aloud, enjoyed it immensely, but then moved on to other books while the rest of the series sat on the shelf waiting patiently to be noticed. At last, though, Swallows and Amazons fever has struck two of our avid readers, and it is a very contagious condition; no book in the series need feel lonely for long. Alas, the contagion seems doomed to spread throughout the family.



Swallows and Amazons forever!

From the book jacket:

"Swallows and Amazons introduces the lovable Walker family, the camp on Wild Cat Island, the able-bodied catboat Swallow, and the two intrepid Amazons, Nancy and Peggy Blackett."

We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea

From the book jacket:

"As in all Ransome's books, the emphasis is on self-reliance, courage, and resourcefulness. We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea is a story to warm any mariner's heart. Full of nautical lore and adventure, it will appeal to young armchair sailors and seasoned salts alike."

For information about the author, the books, and more, you can find the Arthur Ransome website here. There are many lists, articles, and links that would be of interest to avid readers of the Swallows and Amazons series.

From the biography of Arthur Ransome by Peter and Donna Thomson:

"I think Ransome's appeal lies in his understanding of the fantasies of the child's mind. Wild creations like serpents, monsters and other-worldly beings may have their place, but there is also a great longing to play at 'explorers', to see oneself as a follower of the great mountaineers and the navigators who discovered this world. Sailing at night, roaming through the woods, camping where and when one wishes, are experiences children all over the world long to share. Through the books of Arthur Ransome, they can do just this, in a world where these things could be done in safety."

The entire list of books in the Swallows and Amazons series:

Swallows and Amazons
Peter Duck
Swallowdale
Winter Holiday
Coot Club
Pigeon Post
We Didn't Mean To Go To Sea
The Big Six
Secret Water
Missee Lee
The Picts And The Martyrs
Great Northern?

Happy St. Patrick's Day

For your St. Patrick's day enjoyment, I have for you:

A PRAYER
(From St. Patrick's Breastplate)

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness,
Of the Creator of Creation.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

A BOOK

How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill

AND A TOAST

May the sound of happy music
And the lilt of Irish laughter
Fill your heart with gladness
That stays forever after.

A.Word.A.Day

Today's word is elevenses:

elevenses (i-LEV-uhn-ziz) noun
A midmorning break for refreshments taken between breakfast and lunch,usually around 11am.

And Kate and I thought this was a Tolkien creation!

Want to subscribe to this daily mental boost? Click here

Marguerite deAngeli (1889 - 1987)

Thanks to Semicolon, a favorite morning blog stop for me, I learned that Marguerite deAngeli was born on this day in 1889.

Marguerite Lofft deAngeli is one of the best known and highly regarded author / illustrators in American children's literature. Born in Lapeer, Michigan in 1889, she awarded the Newbery Medal in 1950 for The Door in the Wall, and was among the first to be inducted into the Michigan Women's Hall in of Fame.

The Door in the Wall may be her best known book, but one of the top ten read alouds we have ever done as a family is
The Black Fox of Lorne:

This book... attests to deAngeli's versatility. BLACK FOX OF LORNE is historical fiction for older readers and is comparable to DOOR IN THE WALL in richness of historical setting. The story occurred in the tenth century,with two Viking twins shipwrecked on the Scottish coast. They seek to avenge the death of their father and encounter loyal clans men at war, kindly shepherds, power-hungry lairds and staunch crofters. A Newbery Honor Book 1957.

Bread and Wine

"As we stand before the cross, we begin to gain a clear view both of God and of ourselves, especially in relation to each other. Instead of inflicting upon us the judgment we deserved, God in Christ endured it in our place." John Stott

Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter

And now for something completely different

IT'S SELECTION SUNDAY!

Yep, we are NCAA basketball fans here, and today begins March Madness. We'll cheer on our old home town favorite, Stanford, with hopes for Pacific and an annual fascination with Duke and Coach K. We have one (maybe two) basketball resistant members of the family, but they like to bake cookies during games, so this really is a win-win-win for family happiness.

As Writing and Living posted recently, it's not all Shakespeare and C.S. Lewis around here. A good dose of the orange ball keeps the conversation eclectic.

Go Cardinal!

Today's box from Amazon (be still my beating heart)

When Love Speaks

"A selection of William Shakespeare's much-loved sonnets, read by some of the world's finest actors, together with musical settings of passages from his sonnets and plays."

Kenneth Branagh, Ralph Fiennes, and Alan Rickman reading Shakespeare's sonnets...need I say more?

Enter Jeeves: 15 Early Stories by P.G. Wodehouse

Our family banter, the secret code of our inner circle, is filled with more and more Wodehouse. This instantly became the read-aloud of choice.

My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell

"When the unconventional Durrell family can no longer endure the damp, gray English climate, they do what any sensible family would do: sell their house and relocate to the sunny Greek isle of Corfu. My Family and Other Animals was intended to embrace the natural history of the island but ended up as a delightful account of Durrell’s family’s experiences, from the many eccentric hangers-on to the ceaseless procession of puppies, toads, scorpions, geckoes, ladybugs, glowworms, octopuses, bats, and butterflies into their home.

Thanks to Wittingshire for this recommendation.

Dad Stories

My husband's tales from childhood and college are favorites for our children. The broken wrist, the baseball league championships, the college baseball tales are told over and over again, and we never tire of them. Today, the old photos of the college team, and even newspaper clippings of box scores, were discovered when filing tax papers. The boys were a very captive audience as they could finally see these mythical teammates in a photo.

My stories? I didn't really find my note-worthy self until my late twenties; many of my childhood tales are when I was being very, very naughty. My one claim to fame in elementary school is lighting the school on fire. Sigh. Not a role model, except of the "don't try this at home" variety. Good thing my husband is around to regale the crowds.

L'Abri

This weekend is the L'Abri Jubilee Celebration in St. Louis, Mo. L'Abri may not be familiar to you, so here is the description from the L'Abri website:

L'Abri is a French word that means shelter. The first L'Abri community was founded in Switzerland in 1955 by Dr. Francis Schaeffer and his wife, Edith. Dr. Schaeffer was a Christian theologian and philosopher who also authored a number of books on theology, philosophy, general culture and the arts.

The L'Abri communities are study centers in Europe, Asia and America where individuals have the opportunity to seek answers to honest questions about God and the significance of human life. L'Abri believes that Christianity speaks to all aspects of life.

I feel a great debt to Dr. and Mrs. Schaeffer. Many of the things I hold dear today I first read in their books. I don't always agree with their take on things, but I love how they make me think. Whether issues as political as abortion, or as domestic as a bread recipe, I have found inspiration. Above all, their love of books, the arts, philosophy, and beauty was a great example to me, convincing me that my everyday life was valuable. My husband and I visited L'Abri in Switzerland for a quick week of a dream come true in 1988. We worked the gardens, made bread and homemade mayonnaise, and studied. I read and listened to works on feminism and the church, and enjoyed meeting folks from around the world that were also there studying.

Many Schaeffers have written books worth reading. Here are a few:

Books by Francis Schaeffer:

The God Who Is There

He Is There and Is Not Silent

Books by Edith Schaeffer:

L'Abri

What Is a Family?

Hidden Art of Homemaking

Books by their unique and interesting offspring:

Frank (sometimes Franky) Schaeffer:

Keeping Faith: A Father-Son Story About Love and the United States Marine Corps

Addicted to Mediocrity: 20th Century Christians and the Arts
(Whatever you think of Frank Schaeffer's writing, you must agree he is not boring)

Susan Schaeffer Macaulay (a homeschool favorite):
For The Children's Sake


For The Family's Sake: The Value of the Home in Everyone's Life


How To Be Your Own Selfish Pig


I have always joked with my husband that he didn't need to worry about making more money....I would just spend it all anyway. And, spend it I would on trips to places like St. Louis for this celebration.

Many birthdays

March 10th is a busy day of birthdays. I wanted to wish Gena Suarez, publisher of The Old Schoolhouse Magazine, a fabulously happy birthday. Gena is a brilliant, witty, kind, generous and delightful person, and I am proud to call her my friend.

Also, one of the unexpected pleasures of starting A Circle of Quiet has been email correspondence with a handful of you. Today is the birthday of my first blogging pen-pal, S. in Oregon, and I want to wish her joy and cheer and many happy returns of the day. Enjoy that chocolate cake!

James Herriott (1916 - 1995)

James Herriott, veterinarian and author, was born in Sunderland, Scotland on this day in 1916.

Herriot -- the pen name and alter ego of James Alfred Wight -- wrote 15 books in the time that he could wrest away from his practice. They sold 50 million copies in 20 countries.

But he continued his veterinary practice long after his books made him famous.

"If a farmer calls me with a sick animal, he couldn't care less if I were George Bernard Shaw," he once said.

In high school, during some short illness of mine, my mother bought the set of books beginning with All Creatures Great and Small. I have no memory of the flu or cold from which I was suffering, only the joy I felt at finding these tales of a young vet and his interesting life.

Planning Day

I rocket launched my entire family out the door to the ski slopes again today. It should be a sparkly, warm, spring skiing day, and they packed plenty of water and sunblock. As they eased out of the driveway, I could hear music billowing out the van windows, along with the assorted calls of "Love you!" and "Bye, Mom!" In their wake I could hear the sounds of commuter traffic far across the valley, but then I listened to what must have been a choir of birds singing their morning tunes. What a cheerful sound.

It has taken me awhile to work through the clutter in the house and, more importantly, the clutter in my brain, so that I could settle into the quiet. It's a planning day, and I needed to wipe the real and mental piles away so that I could dream, list, plan, evaluate, and come to some conclusions about our homeschool needs. We also want a large vegetable and flower garden this year, and I need to plan the garden plots, devise ways of avoiding previous year's pests, and figure out when we can do the hard and satisfying work to ready the area. I am glad to have only the dog and cats as my companions today.

So, the chair is rearranged in front of "my" window, the coffee is brewed, and the catalogs are ready with paper and pen. The Name of the Rose continues to call my name, and I have every intention of answering for at least an hour this morning. It needs some uninterrupted time, not the late night almost falling asleep kind of reading I have been doing. But, other than that, I am Planning Woman today. Look out world!

The soundtrack for today includes:

The World of Peter Rabbit and Friends soundtrack

Sarah Groves: Conversations

Fernando Ortega: Home

Morning sun
And morning glories
Pouring down the hill,
Through my window
I can feel the ocean breeze.

Noisy sparrows
Fill the oak trees
Swallows can't stay still
And in the glad commotion
Lord, You speak to me

If rain clouds come
Or the cold winds blow
You're the One
Who goes before me
And in my heart I know

That this good day
It is a gift from You

Fernando Ortega: This Good Day

Crisp blue skies and new leaves -- signs of spring

An Old English Prayer

Give us, Lord, a bit of sun
A bit o' work and a bit o' fun
Give us in all the struggle and sputter
Our daily bread and a bit o' butter
Give us health our keep to make
And a bit to spare for other's sake.

Give us, too, a bit of song
And a tale and a book to help us along
Give us, Lord, a chance to be
Our goodly best, brave, wise and free
Our goodly best for ourselves and others
Till all men learn to live as brothers.

A worthwhile destination

Wittingshire on teaching literature:

I'm fortunate. I don't have to make a living in the world for which I trained. I teach only as often as is fun, and without regard for tenure requirements. What of others who think as I do, but who do teach full time?

They are unsung heroes, on the front lines of a battle against relativism and nihilism. They profess the truth. They insist that aesthetic principles are more than mere personal tastes, often committing professional suicide through an unfashionable attachment to the oft-maligned canon. Or they get relegated to lower-level courses, where they try to teach incoming students to recognize good literature--and this is excruciatingly difficult for the student whose tastes have been formed by one poor fiction after another, and who has been assured all his life that his opinion on anything is as valid as anyone's.

One of the many reasons why we visit Wittingshire.

The Moral Complexity of War

An interview with Max Hastings, author of Armageddon: The Battle for Germany, 1944-1945:

What would you like the reader to take away from the book?

"Although I write military history, above all I am interested in what happened as human experience. And if I were asked to give one good reason to read my book, it would be that we have stupid people who don't know any history saying today that we live in a terrible world: 9/11, Al Qaeda, and so on. It bears saying again and again that we are an incredibly privileged and pampered generation. One need only spend five minutes considering the experiences of what people went through in World War II as a whole - especially in the final cataclysmic phase when more than 100 million people were, as I say in my book, "locked in bloody embrace" - to conclude that we are so very fortunate today.

I would especially hope that the message of humility comes through. The only case for writing books of this kind at all is to teach a new generation soemthing about what happened to a previous generation. Every time I write a book like this, I listen hour after hour to the experiences of hundreds of men and women. And I always come away from listening to them hugely impressed with the dignity and generosity of spirit with which many people have endured far worse things than we will ever have to face."

Unfortunately I cannot find a link to the complete article on their website, but to read a handful of articles or order a copy of this issue of Books and Culture (March/April, 2005), check the link for information.

Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564)

Another March 6th birthday: Michelangelo was born on this day in 1475. To learn more about this creator of beauty, see this interesting website.

"Lord, make me see thy glory in every place."

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

Sonnet XIV

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of ease on such a day--
For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheek dry,--
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning was born on this day in 1806.

Eat and Drink

In the midst of Lent I am made aware that Easter is coming again: the days are becoming longer, the snow is withdrawing, the sun is bringing new warmth, and a bird is singing. Yesterday, during the night prayers, a cat was crying! Indeed, Spring announces itself. And tonight, O Lord, I heard you speak to the Samaritan woman. You said: "Anyone who drinks the water that I shall give will never be thirsty again; the water that I shall give will turn into a spring inside him, welling up to eternal life." What words! They are worth many hours, days, and weeks of reflection. I will carry them with me in my preparation for Easter. The water that you give turns into a spring. Therefore, I do no have to be stingy with your gift, O Lord. I can freely let the water come from my center and let anyone who desires drink from it. Perhaps I will even see this spring in myself when others come to it to quench their thirst.

Our Prayer
As a deer yearns
for running streams,
so I yearn
for you, my God.
In you is the source of life,
by your light we see the light.

Show Me The Way, Daily Lenten Readings by Henri Nouwen.

Friendship

The view from the balcony

"'I'm asking everybody for my Sunday School thing, 'Lissa, what they think a friend is. What do you say?'

'A friend is ... crumbs, let me think. Someone who sticks by you, I think. Someone who won't let you down.'

'That's good; thanks. Make me a cup of coffee, too, will you? Oh, Mother, you haven't said. What do you think a friend is?'

Mother frowned thoughtfully and carried on nipping the little stalks off her gooseberries without replying. She said eventually, 'Well ... I've had friends who've disappointed me. Sometimes, even the ones who loved me have let me down, and not understood, and betrayed my trust. That's only human nature isn't it? I daresay I've done as much to them. No, I would say ... I learned it from a story great-grandmother Melissa told me ... I would say that because we all have our failings and weaknesses, because each of us is only human, a friend - a good friend - is someone who helps you to persevere.'

'What?' said Therese.

'A friend is someone who helps you to persevere. When the going gets tough and you're on the point of jacking it all in; by the time you reach my age, Therese, you will be able to look back at lots of times when you nearly gave up and walked away from a difficult situation; and the people you will remember with thanks and love are the ones who helped you, in those moments, to persevere.'"

The Wounds of God, by Penelope Wilcock.


Tonight we have had the gift of a visitor from out of town, a man that we have known for over eleven years. He and his family moved a year and a half ago, and we have missed our times together. We all enjoy music, and his talent for singing, playing and song writing is immense. Tonight he lead us in some great hymns, and played a couple of songs of his that we had not heard since he left. Now, as the house has settled into the quiet of bedtime, my husband is out walking our dark country road with his dear friend. It is a great pleasure to know that he has a kindred spirit with whom he can share his heart. We have shared dark nights of the soul with this couple, but, like the quote from Wounds of God, these are friends that have encouraged us to persevere.

Antonio Vivaldi (1678 - 1741)

On this day in 1678 Antonio Vivaldi was born in Venice. As the composer of what my children call "happy violins", he is a favorite in our home.

My favorite recordings are:
The Four Seasons and
Yo-Yo Ma: Vivaldi's Cello

Middle Earth

Second breakfast

By that time the sun was shining; and the front door was open, letting in a warm spring breeze. Bilbo began to whistle loudly and to forget about the night before. In fact he was just sitting down to a nice little second breakfast in the dining-room by the open window, when in walked Gandalf.

The Hobbit (Chapter 2), J.R.R. Tolkien

I first met Bilbo, Gandalf and Middle Earth twenty years ago this month. Three of us were driving through the winding backroads of central California, on our way to the ski slopes. As we said farewell to the dark shadows of night, the dawn was shown to be misty, damp and mysterious looking. With a bit of awe, our driver Ralph whispered, "Doesn't it look just like Middle Earth?" The other traveler, my future husband, agreed. Suddenly the two of them were off into a world that was unknown to me. They talked for at least an hour about a battle with a Balrog (what in the world?), of a Bilbo and Smaug (strange names), and of hobbits and elves and dwarves. It was a lonely drive for me, a bit like listening to inside jokes, or sitting in a foreign country with no knowledge of the language. But, as the sun rose and brightened our journey, I had a moment of epiphany. I had been muttering in my mind about another set of books I had not read; this voice of insecurity surfaced often during this time in my life, reminding me of my inadequacy and my lack of education. "Obviously, anyone that is anyone knows these books." But suddenly the light turned on. "Wait a minute. This is another book I GET to read!" It was a huge revelation, and I was able to squash the dark voices that were telling me I was stupid. I can still feel the excitement and relief that burst upon me that morning.

As soon as I got home, I purchased The Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit, and I now associate the beginning of my true education with Tolkien's masterpieces. I devoured the books and, shortly after, returned to college. A year and a half later I married my husband, a lover of literature and history, and daily life became a chance for talking and listening about new things. I finished my college degree just before our first child was born but was confident that my adventure of learning had only begun.

The Hobbit took part in another significant moment in our family. One of our children struggled to learn to read, and in a family as book-obsessed as we are, it was a cause of (silent) concern. We waited, and worked, and trusted the process. We knew the skill had been conquered one night when we turned in late and noticed that there was a light on in the upstairs bedroom. Under a blanket, trying desperately to finish The Hobbit before we realized what was going on, was a very eager reader, gripped by the tales of Middle Earth. Tolkien was there, once again, to light one of the remarkable moments in life.

Now, when I see a long list of unknown titles or authors, I don't hear any shaming voices. I instantly wonder if the library carries the books of interest, and start analyzing our finances, wondering if the budget can bear another book purchase this month. It sure beats those dark voices asking, "Why didn't you read that when you were younger, ya' big loser?" Long silenced, the voices attempt to find fertile ground in other disguises, but they have been exposed for the liars they are. I have a pile of well-worn books, hiding under children's pillows or shelved in places of honor, to remind me of the day I said farewell. May I never look back!

The rosy fingers of dawn

Poiema

"The Bible tells us that we are God's masterpieces (Greek poiema); not only creatures, but His creations, His poems (Ephesians 2:10). We are living epistles (2 Corinthians 3:3). And so, our lives are meant to be listened to, because it is God who is speaking into and out of and through them, through the parable of each day, the symphony of the years, and the masterpiece of a lifetime."

The Poem of Your Life, by Michael Card.

The parable of our day includes the hum of a water heater, the warmth of a propane fireplace, and the whir of a dishwasher. The fog has cleared, the odor is dissipating, and I can hear and see the details of my life once again.

The Wounds of God

"My mother was a resourceful woman, not easily defeated, but worrying about money was one of the few things that would reduce her to tears. More often, though, when she was anxious, she would be bad tempered, irritable and sharp with us all. It was at the end of a week like that, that Beth's letter about the school outing came.

I got out the loaf of bread and the pot of blackberry jam for tea while Mother read through Beth's letter again.

'It's not bad really,' she said, 'and it's a month off yet. Perhaps she'll be able to have some shoes.'

'I wish we were a bit richer,' I said, getting the margarine and cheese out of the fridge, and bringing knives and plates to the table.

'I don't,' said Mother. 'I know it sounds odd, but I don't. I couldn't bear the thought of people who have no homes and are cold and hungry, if I always had enough. I know I get cross and upset about it, but I would be no better off for covering up my weakness with money. It's good for me to know the places where my soul falls down, and it's good to have to lean on God and ask for his help. I know it's not very nice for you when I'm ratty, but maybe it will help you to understand people better than you would have if you'd been too protected from the realities of life.'"

From my Sustaining Book: The Wounds of God, volume two in The Hawk and the Dove trilogy by Penelope Wilcock.

The stories in this trilogy are told by a mother to her fifteen-year-old daughter, about a community of Benedictine Monks in Yorkshire in the 1300's. When I return to the pages of these books, though, it is often the reflections on the mother and daughter that captivate me.

A Wedged Bear in Great Tightness

The pantry piles

"Bear began to sigh, and then found he couldn't because he was so tightly stuck; and a tear rolled down his eye, as he said:

'Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?'"

from: The Complete Tales of Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne

It all began with a smell. We smelled it for a few days, especially in the pantry, and it wasn't pretty. Finally, Saturday morning came around and I decided that some piece of food must have died. My husband was gone, and we decided to do Big Cleaning. Every single thing came out of the pantry, and we scrubbed and searched for the evil odor. We came up with nothing.

Then, I attacked the refrigerator. Every science project was eliminated, every shelf put in order and cleaned, but NO foul item was found that could possibly be blamed.

We went on our Saturday chore way, cleaning the next room on the list. Putting the living back in order, I smelled "it" next to the propane stove. Hmmmm. There is a propane water heater in the pantry. Hmmmm. Vague rememberings of why propane smells more as the tank empties start rising to my mental awareness, and I go to check the status of the propane tank. Reading: just about empty. Saturday is not a fiscally friendly time to call the local propane company, plus the husband is gone for the weekend. I can sort of remember something about getting the tank emptied so we could switch companies, but it was said late at night as we paid bills, therefore easily forgotten. Well, we had to wait for his return on Sunday. My mom has an all-electric granny flat, so we can venture across the basketball court for showers each day. We will be Troopers.

Sigh. I have discovered that if my life was one of those survivor reality T.V. shows, you should vote me off of the planet as soon as the little inconveniences show up. Major tragedy? Huge disaster? I am your gal. I think clearer and act with quick wisdom under major pressure; it brings out the Wonder Woman in me. But, give me annoying inconveniences? Things like, "Golly, we'd love to have your business. We can rush your order and have that propane tank installed on Wednesday or Thursday, Mrs. W." when it is a Monday morning with loads of dishes and laundry just waitin' for the hot water heater to be back to its cheery self...well, these moments bring out the gloom and doom in me, the "wake me up when it's over" self that I wish I was not so well-aquainted with. My mind seems to freeze in annoyance, unable to count blessings, or see the beauty of a sunrise, or recognize the gifts surrounding me. This week is not my finest hour.

So, we do without hot water and heat. It is California, so all you snow-blessed folks need have no worries about our health. Our happiness has shaken, but only because it was resting on the shifting sand of convenience. Have no fear. We will kick start the brain into its usual appreciation of the finer and simpler things in life. This is just a momentary blip on the screen.

So, what does a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness do during times like this? Besides pray, and remind myself what is really true? I often return to an old book friend, not dive into new things, when life is annoying. I like the comfort of familiar stories, and have returned to them eagerly as I have bid each cold water day goodbye. I have revisited The Hawk and the Dove by Penelope Wilcock, I am continuing my way through The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, and I am continuing some lenten readings in Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter. A good combination of soothing and stimulating, and they seem to be helping me to come back to life.

At this time in our lives, we have several family members and acquaintances that are fighting for their very lives, or needing to accept that the fight is over. They are experiencing true suffering. My annoyance needs to be turned on its ugly head and made to submit to reality. This is reality: my inconvenience is short-lived, even if the propane company's promises don't pan out due to rainy weather. It is good to remember that.

The rain is falling this morning. The water is c-o-l-d, but we are moving on. I mean, it isn't a real disaster. The coffee pot still works, after all.

Soundtrack for a cold water day

Handel's Water Music

Baroque music cheers me, and this is our attempt at humoring ourselves during our cold water fest. It suits me just fine.

Wodehouse saved my life

An article by Hugh Laurie (the actor who played Bertie Wooster):

"But this, you will be nauseated to learn, is a tale of redemption. In about my 13th year, it so happened that a copy of Galahad at Blandings by P. G. Wodehouse entered my squalid universe, and things quickly began to change. From the very first sentence of my very first Wodehouse story, life appeared to grow somehow larger. There had always been height, depth, width and time, and in these prosaic dimensions I had hitherto snarled, cursed, and not washed my hair. But now, suddenly, there was Wodehouse, and the discovery seemed to make me gentler every day. By the middle of the fifth chapter I was able to use a knife and fork, and I like to think that I have made reasonable strides since."

Thanks to Brandywine Books for this great find.