"Yes!"

We only eat Dutch babies on birthdays and Christmas morning.  But this morning I was asked,  "Can we have them today, Mom?"

There was something in the question, something in the smile, something that reminded me that these days together will not last forever.  What am I waiting for?

 And so I said yes.

I really don't want to waste a day. And sometimes that means saying yes. I am glad today was one of those days.

Autumn

Author birthday extravaganza

Today is the birthday of three favorite authors:  Madeleine L'Engle, C.S. Lewis and Louisa May Alcott.  In honor of their birthday, I have listed some favorite quotes and books and one movie.

The Insistence of Chronology

During our mortal lives, however, chronos is not merely illusion. My body aging is aging according to human chronology, not nucleon or galactic chronology. My knees creak. My vision is variable. My energy span is shorter than I think it ought to be. There is nothing I can do to stop the passage of this kind of time in which we human beings are set. I can work with it rather than against it, but I cannot stop it. I do not like what it is doing to my body. If I live as long as many of my forebears, these outward diminishments will get worse, not better. But these are the outward signs of chronology, and there is an other Madeleine who is untouched by them, the part of me that lives forever in kairos and bears God's image.

from Glimpses of Grace: Daily Thoughts and Reflections of Madeleine L'Engle

But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not.  It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him. 

From Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis

Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and fall into a vortex, as she expressed it, writing way at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace.

From Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Favorite books by these authors:

 

(worthy of note:  we love the movie of The Inheritance, but the book didn't do it for us.  The father in the movie is a great character, and he is fabulously quotable.)

Last year's meme post in honor of Lewis, L'Engle and Alcott.

First Sunday of Advent

First Sunday in Advent

Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one God, now and for ever.  Amen.      

Book of Common Prayer,  Collect for the First Sunday in Advent.

The Way I See It: Nourishment

The Thanksgiving Table 2011

Photo prompt from Molly at Close to Home.  Come join the fun:  The next prompt is Gratitude.

There is the nourishment of the food on Thanksgiving, but it is so much more than that.  The relationships, the traditions, the orchestration of the multifaceted meal, the autumn skies, the piles of dishes in the kitchen, the murmurs of gratitude around the house, the football, the annual viewing of Its A Wonderful Life...Thanksgiving is a day that nourishes my soul as well as my body.  

I love Thanksgiving.

The Friday Clive

"Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing; ink is the great cure for all human ills, as I have found out long ago."

Thanksgiving visitors

The wild turkeys came to visit today.  Or perhaps they came to hide.

 They ran faster past the herb plants...poultry seasoning is not a wild turkey's friend.

 They finally found each other and ran for the woods.
Happy Thanksgiving, all!

Thanksgiving

 

Table Grace
By Garrison Keillor

Here we sit as evening falls
Like old horses in their stalls.
Thank you, Father, that you bless
Us with food and an address
And the comfort of your hand
In this great and blessed land.
Look around at each dear face,
Keep each one in your good grace.
We think of those who went before,
And wish we could have loved them more.
Grant to us a cheerful heart,
Knowing we must soon depart
To that far land to be with them.
And now let's eat. Praise God. Amen.  

From 77 Love Sonnets

If you love poetry, I highly recommend signing up to receive The Writer's Almanac in your inbox each day.

The Friday Clive

"There are always plenty of rivals to our work. We are always falling in love or quarreling, looking for jobs or fearing to lose them, getting ill and recovering, following public affairs. If we let ourselves, we shall always be waiting for some distraction or other to end before we can really get down to our work. The only people who achieve much are those who want knowledge so badly that they seek it while the conditions are still unfavorable.  Favorable conditions never come."

I found the italicized portion of this quote in my usual source, The Quotable Lewis, but I searched and found the original speech online here: Learning in War Time. I highly recommend you read the speech in its entirety.

The Way I See It: Wisdom

Psalm 90: 12-17

So teach us to number our days,
That we may present to You a heart of wisdom.

Do return, O LORD; how long will it be?
And be sorry for Your servants.
O satisfy us in the morning with Your lovingkindness,
That we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

Make us glad according to the days You have afflicted us,
And the years we have seen evil.
Let Your work appear to Your servants And Your majesty to their children.

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us;
And confirm for us the work of our hands;
Yes, confirm the work of our hands.



Photo prompt courtesy of Molly at Close to Home.  She does a different prompt each week.  Why don't you come join the fun?

Sarah Dunning Park: A Good Measure

Dinner At Home

The work of the day
is over—
but there is still
the matter of
dinner.

Sometimes,
we succumb
to the drive-thru—
scarfing burgers
in the car,
grease dripping down
the backs of our hands.
Throwing french fries
to appease the backseat.
My stomach tenses up
from suspense, bracing
for the next bite, or gulp,
or pothole in the road.

Rare are the nights
we eat out, without kids.
I wait for it all day, letting
my thirst for red wine
and hunger for red meat
grow without apology.
I savor the ordering
of food prepared
by other hands;
you feast on the distance
from our sink of dishes.

But most evenings
find us at home,
pulling together a meal
out of something old
and something new.
Papers must be pushed aside,
projects relocated.
I call up the stairs to
come eat, right this minute!
 
From the hungry sprinters
to the stragglers
reluctantly parting
with toys, books
or screens,
we find our seats
at the table,
bow our heads.
We take,
and we eat.

Sarah Dunning Park

A Good Measure:  poems by a mother of small children is Sarah Park's poetry blog.  I highly recommend it.  Filled with images of ordinary life's sacred moments, Sarah finds a way to be both honest and honoring with her words.  Like Wendell Berry inside a mother's heart.  I am so glad I found my way to her blog.

Dinner At Home is posted with the permission of the author.

Autumn

Friday Clive

For my dear friend Carol. Surely Clive was thinking of you when he wrote this?

"Isn't it funny the way some combinations of words can give you - almost apart from their meaning - a thrill like music?"

Bonhoeffer

Thinking about the value of vigorous disagreements.  And how quickly those disagreements can divide people.  

Everyone marveled at how Bonhoeffer and Hildebrandt lived "in a state of permanent dispute" that was somehow never acrimonious. They obviously enjoyed the constant theological bickering. It constituted entertainment for them, allowing them to exercise their incredible wit, much of which went over the heads of anyone listening. Hildebrandt's biographers write that sometimes "when they were both involved in an argument Franz would look up and say 'What was that? I'm sorry I didn't hear a word.'" Of course he had heard everything. And then the two of them would "dissolve into laughter."

Remembering (a post from the archives)

Originally posted in November of 2005, I post this again in honor of what would have been my father's 82nd birthday. 

Love you, Dad.  Miss you.




My father's ring

Today would have been my father's seventy-sixth birthday, and I have been thinking of him all day. Actually, he has been on my mind since October 24th, the day he passed away in 2001. Grief, as I have said before, is a confusing and complicated journey, but the loss of my father was made more so by our life together. My father's decision to pursue his financial dreams and extra-marital affairs meant that he chose not to be there for the ordinary days of family life. He moved out when I was just five, and we had a distant relationship for years.

There came a time, after I had begun my own family, when I realized I needed to forgive my father for not being there as I was growing up. It was something I needed to do for my own emotional health, as well as something that was necessary for any relationship to exist between us. First, though, I had to be honest with myself about the wrongs. That was difficult and seemingly counter-productive. I knew I didn't want to stay stuck in the muck of blame and bitterness, but in order to say, "I forgive you" I had to acknowledge what it was that went awry. Forgiveness is not denial, it is not "looking on the bright side", it is not "That's okay." Forgiveness is facing the truth, and that meant the truth about me as well as Dad. I had experienced the life-changing forgiveness of Christ; how could I possibly withhold my forgiveness from another person, especially someone I loved so deeply? It was like a breath of fresh air that I hadn't breathed for decades. It released all the unrealistic expectations that my father could not meet. It released me from the fear of failure as a mother, and it allowed me to experience deep and lasting peace.

I would not be the woman I am today if it wasn't for my father. Some of that I learned from his negative example. I have a deep desire to be trustworthy, I am very wary of mingling family relationships and financial dealings, and I looked for (and, thank God, found) a man who is faithful in the ordinary moments of life. My commitment to enjoy today, with all the budget constraints and laundry and ordinary-ness, comes from watching Dad always dream of something big that we could do together someday. Someday never came for him, and there were decades of ordinary days that were missed in the dreaming. I also learned from his positive example. I read, I pour over maps, I play tennis, I love to travel, and I enjoy conversations with all kinds of people; I even enjoy dreaming big dreams. These all reflect the positive impact he had on my life.

We had eight joyful years of peace and forgiveness, my father and I. We talked on the phone, blabbing about home education and politics and memories and my children. But, emphysema did its dreadful work, and Dad entered the hospital just after September 11th of 2001. I made a mad rush back to his home in Tennessee, only to sit by his hospital bed and pat his hand. I cried and prayed and talked to him, even though they kept telling me he was too sedated to hear. I wanted him to hear again that I loved him, that I prayed for him, and that I would miss him terribly. I have no doubt that he knew I was there.

I loved my father deeply. I miss the smell of his aftershave and the sound of his kingly voice. Today, in honor of his birthday, we got out a tape that he and my step-mother made for us for Christmas 1996. Dad begins the tape with a description of the beach where they were sitting, the sound of the gulls and the crashing of the waves. He read of St. George and the dragon from Bill Bennett's Children's Book of Virtues



My youngest son, whose middle name is his grand-dad's, sat and listened for a long time, luring his sister to join him. It was a great way to remember Dad.

I also wear my father's signet ring each day. It bears the words "Deo Gratis", Thanks be to God. Tonight, I am taking extra time to thank God for His forgiveness, and for the time I had to know and enjoy and learn from my father. I will always wish we had more, but there is a lesson to learn even in that. There will come a time when I will have no more days here on earth, and I need to remember that each ordinary one is a gift! Thanks be to God, indeed.

The Way I See It: Simplicity

In the lengthening shadow he has climbed
again to the ridgetop and across
to the westward slope to see the ripe
light of autumn in the turning trees,
the twilight he must go by now
that only grace can give.  Thus far
he keeps the old sectarian piety:
By grace we live.  But he can go

no further.  Having known the grace
that for so long has kept this world,
haggard as it is, as we have made it,
we cannot rest, we must be stirring
to keep that gift dwelling among us,
eternally alive in time.  This
is the great work, no other, none harder,
none nearer rest or more beautiful.

By Wendell Berry

For the complete poem see

XVII, pp. 54-55 from Leavings

photo prompt is from Molly at Close to Home.

One man loved....

anniversary coffee 

One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face.

Photo prompt courtesy of:

3 from here & there

Mars Hill Audio Journal

"MARS HILL AUDIO is committed to assisting Christians who desire to move from thoughtless consumption of contemporary culture to a vantage point of thoughtful engagement. We believe that fulfilling the commands to love God and neighbor requires that we pay careful attention to the neighborhood: that is, every sphere of human life where God is either glorified or despised, where neighbors are either edified or undermined. Therefore, living as disciples of Christ pertains not just to prayer, evangelism, and Bible study, but also our enjoyment of literature and music, our use of tools and machines, our eating and drinking, our views on government and economics, and so on. We endeavor to encourage sensibilities and habits of thoughtful cultural engagement through creative audio resources, produced at our studio in rural central Virginia. Our primary resource is a bimonthly series of audio programs called the MARS HILL AUDIO Journal. Each program is ninety minutes long, consisting of ten- to fifteen-minute interviews with a variety of guests on a broad array of topics. The MARS HILL AUDIO Journal is currently available in MP3 format for $30 per year, on cassette tape for $42 per year, and on CD for $48 per year."

Ken Myers, the delightful and brilliant mind behind Mars Hill Audio Journal, had a massive heart attack on Saturday. He is recovering (you can read of that at Mere Orthodoxy) and I am so grateful.

We have known and loved the Mars Hill Audio Journal since 1993.  At the time we were the parents of three children under the age of four, and that November we found ourselves on a rare long weekend get-away in Charlottesville, Virginia.  It turns out our hosts were helping Ken Myers in his new venture, and we were the happy recipients of a souvenir tape. Little did I know how much those tapes (then CDs then MP3s) would make a difference.  At the most basic, I credit Ken Myers for keeping me in polysyllabic words during those early years of mothering.  We lived in the boonies, we had no money, and life was very, very busy.  I loved listening to Myers interview all sorts of people I had never heard of, talking about ideas way beyond my sphere, and seeing how it changed the way I thought and what I read.  As I look through the archives on their website, I remember that our first cassette was Volume 6 where we were introduced to Alan Jacobs.  That introduction was worth the price of admission.

As one who has interviewed all sorts of interesting people for The Old Schoolhouse Magazine (like this one, and this one, and this one and this one), I have had a dream of someday interviewing my favorite interviewer, Ken Myers.  Call me silly, but I will keep dreaming.

I highly recommend Mars Hill Audio to you.  As a get well wish to Ken Myers, I encourage you to subscribe; if you are already part of the team, what about a gift subscription?  If there is a mother of many littles on your list, perhaps she would appreciate a little perspective, a little intellectual stimulation.  If there is a commuting friend or family member, what better way to pass the time than to learn about culture, books, ideas, people. 

W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

When You Are Old

  When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
  And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
  And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
  Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

  How many loved your moments of glad grace,
  And loved your beauty with love false or true,
  But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
  And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

  And bending down beside the glowing bars,
  Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
  And paced upon the mountains overhead
  And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

I found this poem through the latest photography prompt at the beautiful 3 from here & there

The Friday Clive

"It is a very consoling fact that so many books about real lives - biographies, autobiographies, letters, etc. - give one such an impression of happiness, in spite of the tragedies they all contain. What could be more tragic than the main outlines of Lamb's or Cowper's lives? But as soon as you open the letters of either, and see what they were writing from day to day and what a relish they got out of it, you almost begin to envy them. Perhaps the tragedies of real life contain more consolation and fun and gusto than the comedies of literature?"

Different kinds of happy

I love this movie.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever, its loveliness increases. It will never pass into nothingness. But still we'll keep the power quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Ugh

The virus that has been hitting my husband hard has finally hit me. 

Ugh pretty much says it all.

Long overdue

Last night was our family's first trick-or-treating adventure.

Al Capone and Holly Golightly had a blast.

The candy is endless.