The Friday Clive

“Don’t be too easily convinced that God really wants you to do all sorts of work you needn’t do. Each must do his duty ‘in that state of life to which God has called him.’ Remember that a belief in the virtues of doing for doing’s sake is characteristically feminine, characteristically American, and characteristically modern: so that three veils may divide you from the correct view! There can be intemperance in work just as in drink. What feels like zeal may be only fidgets or even the flattering of one’s self-importance. As MacDonald says, ‘In holy things may be unholy greed!’ And by doing what ‘one’s station and its duties’ does not demand, one can make oneself less fit for the duties it does demand and so commit some injustice. Just you give Mary a chance as well as Martha!”

C.S. Lewis, Letters to An American Lady

HT: Cindy, whose sidebar quotes offer inspiration and intellectual stimulation, let alone the content of her posts. Not been there? Go now.

Providing the usual link to the book I use for quotes, even though I found my quote-of-the-week elsewhere.

Patio Party

Tuesday night we had a dinner party on the patio.

As the blanket of the day's heat started to fold back to the cool of the evening, as the sun set behind the house, as the stars overhead began to twinkle, we enjoyed the company of three good friends; time slowed and the laughter was set free.

The conversation danced from a report from the CiRCE conference that was attended (not, alas, by me. "Next year in Dallas" is my cry), to the health of parents (one guest could not be there because of an emergency hospital visit by her mom), to books we are reading, to death and burial from Orthodox and Protestant perspectives. It was a strange assortment of topics, but it somehow seemed right as we relaxed more and more under the purple umbrellas and the twinkle lights.

And, yes, we ate. Salad with steamed beets in balsamic vinegar, baguettes, pork tenderloin with apricot and rosemary sauce, fingerling potatoes, stir-fried beans and peppers, and a plum frangipane tart (ala mode, thank you very much.) We slowed it all down, let the conversation fill in the waiting moments between courses, and it all worked beautifully. It was a pleasure to make food for dear friends.

Our backyard is very ordinary. It is a slab of cement with its share of blemishes in this corner and that. The lattice that is designed to hide the dump pile is always falling apart and calling attention to itself, and the mint green whale of a propane tank is nothing but ugly. But all we do is sweep up and move the trash cans around the corner, and we are ready for a party. A few table cloths, a few rows of twinkle lights, and we can set the stage for rich fellowship and great food. It is one of my favorite things in the world to do.

From the inbox

A few emails came through the inbox today, from dear friends who know how to love and encourage. One is grieving, the other knows that road well. These two ladies also speak the language of music in ways I can only dream of.

And so the words to this song were sent along, They were intended to comfort another, but the truth can't help but spill over and encourage anyone in its path.

Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish,
Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel.
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure.”
Here see the Bread of Life, see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above.
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove.

To hear a sample click here.

And for the record: when I get to heaven, I sure hope I can sing like Roberta Flack.

The Friday Clive

Thank God that there are solid folk. . .
Who feel the things that all men feel
And think in well-worn grooves of thought
Whose honest spirits never reel
Before man's mystery, overwrought.
Yet not unfaithful nor unkind
With work-day virtues surely staid
Theirs is the sane and humble mind
And dull affections undismayed.
O happy people! I have seen
No verse yet written in your praise
And, truth to tell, the time has been
I would have scorned your easy ways.
But now thro' weariness and strife
I learn your worthiness indeed
The world is better for such life
As stout, suburban people lead.

Spirits in Bondage, "In Praise of Solid People," part II, poem XXIV, pp. 62-63

A night at the river

It doesn't happen often these days. With five children, five jobs spread between three of them, two scouts, a senatorial campaign, travel adventures to Idaho (for two at two separate times) and Bodega Bay (two different Dad/Daughter camping adventures), basketball games, and Life In General, we're feeling the need to carve out some time together.

And so we went to the river last night, even though I only got so far as making food before I collapsed on the couch with ughs and blechs and the declaration: "I really like being right here, on this couch." I am not sure how they managed it, but eventually I was sitting in the van, heading on down the road.

Football, hand stands, swimming, BBQ ribs, good books ... it was a fine evening.

Happy or cranky, energetic or blah, it was great to be together. All seven of us.

Cleaning out the garage ...

and finding treasures.

Like this:

Two brothers in the winter of 1996,

thrilled at the possibilities found in a huge hole filled with mud.

I remember the squeals of glee; I do not remember the laundry pile.

Summer reading list

I wasn't going to make a reading list for the summer, but I changed my mind. I wanted to make 2010 my year of reading Flannery O'Connor and I have only read one (yes, ONE) short story and a very little bit of her biography. Summer is the time to make some progress on that plan.

I've also been reading blogs with the idea of adding in some new authors and new titles. It's going to be a great reading summer.



The Complete Stories of Flannery O'Connor



Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor by Brad Gooch



The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O'Connor



Hope Was Here by Joan Bauer
HT: Someone. Do you know who you are? I would love to thank you.



Island of the World by Michael D. O'Brien
HT: Janie and Carol



Suttree by Cormac McCarthy
HT: Allison



Ancestral Shadows: An Anthology of Ghostly Tales by Russell Kirk
HT: Vigen Guroian in this book:



Rallying the Really Human Things
HT: My dear husband, who managed to read this book from start to finish on our get away, and Wes Callihan who found this book in a strange place at our house, and had amazon.com deliver it to his front door before he arrived home. (Note to Self: Do Not Ever Get the Amazon.com iPhone app. Danger Danger!!!!)



Beauty in Photography by Robert Adams
HT: Juliet



Chef (A Novel) by Jaspreet Singh



The Doctor Stories by William Carlos Williams



Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions/Death's Duel by John Donne
HT: Wit (the movie) and Carol



Bamboo People
HT: Books and Culture, MFS

Celebration

Celebrating Spain's win over the Netherlands.
Celebrating God's provision for a friend in need.
Celebrating the sparkling beauty of a Sunday afternoon.

The Friday Clive

"If we take the imagery of Scripture seriously, if we believe that God will one day give us the Morning Star and cause us to put on the splendour of the sun, then we may surmise that both the ancient myths and the modern poetry, so false as history, may be very near the truth as prophecy. At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in. When human souls have become as perfect in voluntary obedience as the inanimate creation is in its lifeless obedience, then they will put on its glory, or rather that greater glory of which nature is only the first sketch."

Today

Finding beauty in unexpected places.

For Steph

Psalm 121
A song of ascents

I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from?

My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber;

indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD watches over you—the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life;

the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

Steph is a friend, yes, another friend, who is asked to venture to the edge of eternity with a dying loved one. Sending you love, dear Steph.

Lord, have mercy!

A summer list of a different sort

The To Cook (and Eat and Drink) version is posted over at Notre Pain Quotidian.

A Summer List

The spazzy month of June is over. Don't get me wrong: the spazziness was divine; we loved our company, we loved our adventures, we loved it all. But now it is July. And this year that means Home. The annual Oregon trek won't happen until July is down to its last drops, so I am beginning to wonder what four weeks of home will include. It's been a year of serious household neglect, so there will be projects aplenty, but I am thinking of a list more along the lines of what I read at Orangette today. Colors, sensations, memories that end up tucked away in the corners of my mind, fortifying me when the sun (literal or figurative) no longer shines, these are what I want to anticipate and savor.


To Do in July

Catch the sunrise in the garden
Read Pinocchio aloud
Record my mother's stories
Nap in the sunshine
Star gaze on the deck
Swing dance
Paint a watercolor of my view
Have an elegant dinner party
Sip champagne under the full moon (July 25)

The Friday Clive (on Saturday)

"Our imitation of God in this life -- that is, our willed imitation as distinct from any of the likenesses which He has impressed upon our natures or states -- must be an imitation of God incarnate: our model is the Jesus, not only of Calvary, but of the workshop, the roads, the crowds, the clamorous demands and surly oppositions, the lack of all peace and privacy, the interruptions. For this, so strangely unlike anything we can attribute to the Divine life in itself, is apparently not only like, but is, the Divine life operating under human conditions."

Screamin' Mimi's Ice Cream

Planning on being in Sebastapol, California in the near future? Run, do not walk, to Screamin' Mimi's Ice Cream.

For links and more, see my food blog.

On tulips and life

Ruby blossoms he gave as we began our escape.

The color of love.

Sadly the drive was too hot, too long.

Weak and wobbly, losing petals, all seemed lost.


A cup filled gave hope,

but bent and fragile still

Until, unwatched, the cold reached deep enough.

Stems standing tall once again,





The golden wall a canvas for their radiance.



Like said rubies, we escaped.

Already wilted, petals of joy dropping;

The year had taken its toll.

When fatigue and worry combine, hope can hide.





Winding through brown hills, we tumbled into the sea salt air.

A red door, a sapphire blue sky,

and rest waiting to be found.

Parched, we drank deeply.





The color of love rings boldly once again.

Soundtrack for a second honeymoon

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right
It's all right