A Circle of Quiet

Sidebar update

2012-01-31T15:02:00.000-08:00

I decided to keep only a few things in my sidebar, and I transferred the rest to the bottom of the page. You can scroll through if there is something of particular interest. I know many have commented on my "current list" and have made use of the blog roll. Those can both be found at the bottom, and the current list will be kept as current as it ever was.

It's good to be back!

Mary Oliver (1935 - )

2012-01-31T11:22:00.000-08:00

Excerpts from Six Recognitions of the Lord:

2.
Lord God, mercy is in your hands, pour
me a little. And tenderness too. My
need is great. Beauty walks so freely
and with such gentleness. Impatiences puts
a halter on my face and I run away over
the green fields wanting your voice, your
tenderness, but having to do with only
the sweet grasses of the fields against
my body. When I first found you I was
filled with light, now the darkness grows
and it is filled with crooked things, bitter
and weak, each one bearing my name.

4.
Of course I have always known you
are present in the clouds, and the
black oak I especially adore, and the
wings of the birds. But you are present
too in the body, listening to the body,
teaching it to live, instead of all
that touching, with disembodied joy.
We do not do this easily. We have
lived so long in the heaven of touch
and we maintain our mutability, our
physicality, even as we begin to
apprehend the other world. Slowly we
make our appreciative response.
Slowly appreciation swells to
astonishment. And we enter the dialogue
of our lives that is beyond all under-
standing or conclusion. It is mystery.
It is love of God. It is obedience.

**** **** ****

I could not find the complete poem posted online, but I highly recommend to you the entire book of poems by Mary Oliver:

The Reading Pile

2012-01-30T22:57:00.000-08:00

It took me months to read this book, mainly because I knew that Dietrich Bonhoeffer dies at the end. It has been years since a book has caused me to cry as hard as this book did. What a gentleman Bonhoeffer was. What a brilliant, astute, kind and intellectually honest man he was. He was true to the end.

From the morning of Bonhoeffer's death:

(from the prison camp doctor)

"'Through the half-open door in one room of the huts I saw Pastor Bonhoeffer, before taking off his prison garb, kneeling on the floor praying fervently to his God. I was most deeply moved by the way this lovable man prayed, so devout and so certain that God heard his prayer. At the place of execution, he again said a short prayer and then climbed the steps to the gallows, brave and composed. His death ensued after a few seconds. In the almost fifty years that I have worked as a doctor, I have hardly ever seen a man die so entirely submissive to the will of God.'

Bonhoeffer thought it the plain duty of the Christian - and the privilege and honor - to suffer with those who suffered. He knew that it was a privilege to be allowed by God to partake of the sufferings of the Jews who had died in this place before him."

"Life is difficult."

This is a re-read, but it may take me months to get past the first sentence. It is packed with wisdom that I have lost and am ready to find again.

I love Nouwen. I love that he was moved to deeper spiritual growth by viewing a painting. I love his hunger for righteousness that is exhibited in honesty and a desire to love more truly.

"I am the prodigal son every time I search for unconditional love where it cannot be found. Why do I keep ignoring the place of true love and persist in looking for it elsewhere? Why do I keep leaving home where I am called a child of God, the Beloved of my Father? I am constantly surprised at how I keep taking the gifts god has given me - my health, my intellectual and emotional gifts - and keep using them to impress people, receive affirmation and praise, and compete for rewards, instead of developing them for the glory of God."

There is always a mystery story in my pile. And P.D. James is the best.

I'll be back soon

2012-01-24T15:56:00.000-08:00

Thanks for all your kind comments, emails, phone calls and letters. I'll be back to A Circle of Quiet on January 30th. We're moving through that last week of "firsts" since my Mom's death last January 29th. A year ago this afternoon, she looked at me from her hospital bed and declared, "Jesus is Lord" right before she went in for surgery. Boy are those words that I have needed to hear all doggone year, and especially this week as I miss Mom so much.

But I have declared January 30th as my New Year's Day and I will be back here to keep tabs on my life. I am looking forward to it.

I did start a photo blog at the beginning of the year, and you can see that here:A Circle of Quiet: 366 Project

Time out

2012-01-04T15:05:00.001-08:00

December 6th was the seventh anniversary of A Circle of Quiet. It has been a delightful seven years for me as a blogger, but I am wondering if it is time to stop. Without any particular reason tugging at me, it seems appropriate to consider the possibility of moving on.I am going to take a few weeks to decide and then will either formally close up shop or pick up where I left off.

We shall see.

New blog banner photo courtesy of....

2011-12-31T10:31:00.000-08:00

my beautiful future daughter-in-law. Isn't that a gorgeous picture?

It is a very merry Christmas

2011-12-25T12:51:00.000-08:00

When I dropped this man off at the airport on Friday afternoon, it meant he was flying away to be gone on Christmas. But there was no sadness. This was an important trip to see a beautiful woman.

And there was a very important question he had to ask this woman, the kind of question it is best to ask in person.

And she said YES!

We had a feeling that the answer would be yes, so our goofy elves got busy. We had a new stocking that had to be added to the row.

The elves had to choose the right decorations. They chose a platypus (yes, a platypus), a ring and a camera. She is a lover of platypi, a wearer of a sparkling engagement ring, and a fabulous photographer.

Welcome to the family, Faith.

Congratulations to you both. We love you!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T16:57:00.000-08:00

We're busy here, cleaning up our projects and preparing for Christmas Eve service.

Packages are wrapped. What's done is done; what's not we shall do without.

Emmanuel, God With Us.
The Light Has Come.
We have much to celebrate!

Eagle Scout Court of Honor

2011-12-21T10:22:00.000-08:00

Tuesday night we had the pleasure of taking a few hours to celebrate the amazing accomplishments of our newest Eagle Scout. It was a fantastic ceremony, and we kept the party going with swing dancing and pancakes back at our house. Below is the speech I gave in Rex's honor.

It was a night to remember.

We are so happy to have you all here in the midst of this busy and holy season of Christmas. Thank you for coming.Rex, you began scouting shortly after turning eleven. Here we are, seven and a half years later, and you have achieved the goal of Eagle Scout. Congratulations, son. You have done very well.

There are skills and experiences you will take into the rest of your life as a result of your work in scouts. There are knots and lashings, swim strokes and orienteering, hiking and wilderness survival. You know to protect cinnamon rolls from raccoons, to always expect rain on a campout, and to carry plenty of water up Half Dome. But there are some things that are woven through scouts, subtle enough that they might not be noticed. I would like to point a few out.

The first is that the details matter. Any young man who has prepared his Eagle Scout binder for his Board of Review knows this. You must have everything imaginable, and a few things you didn’t imagine, all in perfect order. As it turns out, life is full of details that matter. They impact how you care for those around you, how you serve your community, how you worship, how you work. The key is in knowing the details that matter, which means we need God’s wisdom, and His grace. You have seen God’s hand at work through these seven years of scouting, and you know He will be there through each day and every detail. Details matter.

Your Eagle Project at Dad’s school is another example of an important truth: Service matters. Whether providing an outdoor learning environment for students, helping a single mom on her property or stacking cans on the day of the postal food drive, scouts has shown you that serving those around you is important. You are entering into the adult world at a time when the economy is shaking, and people feel lonely and lost. Your world will need people who are willing to serve. You have already been an encouragement to friends and family who are hurting, reminding them that they are loved and that God is there. Thank you for that, Rex. Live a life of service; you won’t regret it. Service matters.

These last seven years you have been in Troop 401, a group of men and their sons who are working together for the goals of scouting. They have shown you that community matters. These fathers are a beautifully diverse group, each one bringing a unique set of skills and experiences. Time together has meant that adventure fun is had, mistakes get made, lessons are learned, and the community sticks together. You have been in a community of people who want God’s best for you, and that is a gift. Whatever community you are a part of, Rex, will be blessed by your gifts and skills. We can’t go it alone: community matters.

So thank you, Troop 401 dads, for being a community for Rex as he has grown up. Thank you for modeling a life of service, for helping him conquer the details in his scouting life. Thank you for modeling the many different ways a godly man can approach life. We appreciate you very much.

Rex, you became an Eagle Scout on our 25th wedding anniversary, and now you are having your Court of Honor on the 26th anniversary of our engagement. We will never forget these dates! I cannot wait to see all that God has for you with the skills and talents He has given you. I love you. Congratulations.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent

2011-12-18T13:03:00.000-08:00

O gracious Light,
pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven,
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!

Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing thy praises, O God; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Thou art worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices,
O Son of God, O Giver of life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds.

Book of Common Prayer, Evening Prayer I

The Friday Clive

2011-12-16T13:45:00.000-08:00

"It seems, then," said Tirian, smiling to himself, "that the Stable seen from within and the Stable seen from without are two different places."

"Yes," said Lord Digory. "Its inside is bigger than its outside."

"Yes," said Queen Lucy. "In our world, too, a Stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world."

Beauty matters

2011-12-14T12:31:00.000-08:00

She said it was just two minutes. She didn't seem nervous. Everything about her was saying, "This is just not a big deal."

She didn't seem to know that those two minutes would split time and shine a bit of eternity down on her weary mama's heart.

Heaven met earth in the beauty and joy she breathed as she danced.

I love you, Claire Bear.

The Way I See It: White

2011-12-13T10:40:00.000-08:00

Photo prompt courtesy of Molly at Close to Home.

The Friday Clive: On Monday

2011-12-12T08:01:00.001-08:00

"The Incarnation...illuminates and orders all other phenomena, explains both our laughter and our logic, our fear of the dead and our knowledge that it is somehow good to die, and which at one stroke covers what multitudes of separate theories will hardly cover for us if this is rejected."

Advent Week Three

2011-12-11T09:18:00.000-08:00

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,

then we were like those who dream.

Then was our mouth filled with laughter,

and our tongue with shouts of joy.

Then they said among the nations,

"The Lord has done great things for them."

The Lord has done great things for us,

and we are glad indeed.

Restore our fortunes, O Lord,

like the watercourses of the Negev.

Those who sowed with tears

will reap with songs of joy.

Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed,

will come again with joy, shouldering their sheaves.

Psalm 126

Wisdom

2011-12-08T08:10:00.001-08:00

The day in front of you is always the perfect day for starting over.

Molly Sabourin

Christmas doings

2011-12-08T00:17:00.000-08:00

The transition from Thanksgiving to Christmas is quick around here. We are the early tree people, up the hill by 9:30 a.m. the day after Thanksgiving, looking for the perfect tree at the budget lot in apple country.

It was just the four of us this year, what with one far away college girl and two boys working their retail jobs on that most retail-focused day.

The sun sparkled, the tree is too small, but the company was excellent.

With Sophie's careful supervision, I made a wreath of ornaments.

I love the muted tones so much.

And then there was the annual "knock some mistletoe off the tree" event. Safety glasses next year perhaps?

But shopping? I seem to be in a serious denial rut. Better.Get.Moving.

"You're Half a Century, Dad!"

2011-12-07T08:38:00.001-08:00

In celebration of my favorite man's birthday, we had a quiet afternoon and evening:

Cookies and milk

Birthday tradition: Dutch babies

Singing and celebration

But the real party was on Sunday.

Thanks to the generosity of friends, we were at the 49er game. It was an absolute blast.

Frank Gore broke the team record for rushing yards, the team clinched the NFC West, and the 49ers shut out the St. Louis Rams.

What a perfect birthday celebration.

Happy 5-0!

For Madelaine during finals week

2011-12-05T09:21:00.001-08:00

We are all eager to see you soon!

The Second Sunday of Advent: The Tailgate Edition

2011-12-04T20:59:00.000-08:00

Two advent candles : Candlestick Park

"Don't try to explain the Incarnation to me! It is further from being explainable than the furthest star in the furthest galaxy. It is love, God's limitless love enfleshing that love into the form of a human being, Jesus, the Christ, fully human and fully divine.
Was there a moment, known only to God, when all the stars held their breath, when the galaxies paused in their dance for a fraction of a second, and the Word, who had called it all into being, went with all his love into the womb of a young girl, and the universe started to breathe again, and the ancient harmonies resumed their song, and the angels clapped their hands for joy?

Christ, the Second Person of the Trinity, Christ, the Maker of the universe...willingly and lovingly leaving all that power and coming to this poor, sin-filled plant to live with us for a few years to show us what we ought to be and could be. Christ came to us as Jesus of Nazareth, wholly human and wholly divine, to show us what it means to be made in God's image." Madeleine L'Engle

The Friday Clive

2011-12-02T09:30:00.001-08:00

The Christian story is precisely the story of one grand miracle, the Christian assertion being that what is beyond all space and time, what is uncreated, eternal, come into nature, into human nature, descended into His own universe, and rose again, bringing nature up with Him. It is precisely one great miracle. If you take that away there is nothing specifically Christian left.

"Yes!"

2011-11-30T19:17:00.001-08:00

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

2011-11-30T09:06:00.001-08:00

Author birthday extravaganza

2011-11-29T14:14:00.001-08:00

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

2011-11-27T21:13:00.001-08:00

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

2011-11-26T04:53:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-25T04:27:00.000-08:00

"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

2011-11-24T09:24:00.001-08:00

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

2011-11-24T04:44:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-18T04:13:00.000-08:00

"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

2011-11-16T12:48:00.000-08:00

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 servantsAnd 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

2011-11-14T04:55:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-13T08:54:00.000-08:00

Friday Clive

2011-11-11T08:06:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-10T10:01:00.001-08:00

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)

2011-11-09T10:53:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-08T20:03:00.000-08:00

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....

2011-11-08T02:02:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-07T12:17:00.000-08:00

"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)

2011-11-05T09:50:00.000-07:00

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

2011-11-04T01:20:00.000-07:00

"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

2011-11-03T13:01:00.000-07:00

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

2011-11-02T09:12:00.000-07:00

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

Ugh pretty much says it all.

Long overdue

2011-11-01T14:04:00.000-07:00

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

Al Capone and Holly Golightly had a blast.

The candy is endless.

The Way I See It: Patience

2011-10-29T16:50:00.000-07:00

Hidden in the midst of the piles of laundry that don't put themselves away, the dust balls that keep me from seeing the autumnal light dancing on the floor in the afternoon....

is the prize of patience, showing my reflection in all its glory.

It can often seem fleeting,

fragile, capable of bursting without warning,

but sometimes it comes to rest for awhile, helping me to love and live more fully.

Many thanks again, Molly, for The Way I See It photo prompts. If you enjoy photography, please join the fun this week with the prompt simplicity.

The Friday Clive

2011-10-28T01:00:00.000-07:00

From The Letters of C.S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves, 29 May 1918. Note: Lewis's conversion to Christianity happened in 1931. I love seeing the chronology of Lewis's thinking and believing.

"The thing in your last letter with which I most want to disagree is the remark about Beauty and nature: apparently I did not make myself clear. You say that nature is beautiful because of its shape, colour and motions, and perhaps a little because of association. Now these colours etc are sensations in my eye, produced by vibrations on the aether between me and the tree; the real tree is something quite different - a combination of colourless, shapeless, invisible atoms. It follows then that neither the tree, nor any other material object can be beautiful in itself: I can never see them as they are, and if I could it would give me no delight. The beauty therefore is not in matter at all, but is something purely spiritual, arising mysteriously out of the relation between me & the tree: or perhaps as I suggest in my Song, out of some indwelling spirit behind the matter of the tree - the Dryad in fact.You see the conviction is gaining ground that after all Spirit does exist; and that we come in contact with the spiritual element by means of these "thrills." I fancy that there is Something right outside time & place, which did not create matter, as the Christians say, but is matter's great enemy: and that Beauty is the call of the spirit in that something to the spirit in us. You see how frankly I admit that my views have changed."

Ten2Kenya

2011-10-27T10:58:00.000-07:00

I have always had small dreams. Simple pleasures, small victories, pebbles splashing in tiny ponds, this has been my realm. But a handful of years ago I became better acquainted with my now-dear friend Lisa and her family, and at that moment I was pushed into the front row to watch what big dreams, big vision, big faith look like. I have seen them host an annual carnival to serve and love orphans and widows around the world, I have listened as their door has swung open and slammed shut to hundreds of people who come over to swim, to talk, to laugh, to be loved, I have been the recipient of their love and wisdom and frienship. Lisa and her family do life big and they do it beautifully.

And now their family of ten is heading to Kenya to live and work with Agape Ministries, expanding their loving arms to children who have been abandoned to life on the streets of the city of Kisumu in western Kenya. Dreaming big becomes dreaming huge when you put the wheels in motion to get eight children and their parents across the world. Plane tickets, immunizations, packing, cleaning out, and harvesting walnuts on their ranch...they are doing amazing work, and they have not even gotten to African soil yet.

When you read Agape's website, it is gut wrenching. I can't help but stop and ask how I can contribute in my small way. I knew we had no more money to give this month, but then the request came out for walnut harvest help; I knew we had gas in the car and three of us who could lend a helping hand, so off we went.

By the time we finished our small part on Monday, prayers of thanksgiving had been said for the completion of the harvest and the dozens (and dozens) of hands that had volunteered to help the Kjeldgaards meet their needs. They leave for Kenya in 43 days, having seen God use so many to make this dream of serving and loving street children come true.

We love you, Kjeldgaards!

If you would like to be a part of reaching these children on the streets of Kisumu, you can sponsor a child or you can contribute directly to the Kjeldgaard family's trip (click here to read their newsletter and see where to send your donation.) I can attest to the integrity, work ethic and devotion of this family, and the facts about street children in Kenya attest to the dire need for this ministry to be present in Kisumu.

**Added later: A direct link for supporting the Kjeldgaards.

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” James 1:27

P.S. This is also my The Way I See It: Community post. Being a part of the Kjeldgaard community is a privilege and a blast. The Way I See It photography prompt comes from Molly at Close to Home. If you love seeing life through the lens of your camera, join in the fun each week. Tomorrow's prompt is patience (Lord, have mercy!)

The Friday Clive

2011-10-21T04:19:00.000-07:00

"More and more one sees how much of one's philosophy & religion is mere talk: the boldest hope is that concealed somewhere within it there is some seed however small of the real thing."

Eyes on the Prize

2011-10-20T22:42:00.000-07:00

Paul and Silas bound in jail
Got no money for to go their bail
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on

Paul and Silas thought they were lost
The dungeon shook and the chains fell off Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on

Freedom's name is mighty sweet
And one day soon we are gonna meet
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on

I got my hand on the gospel plow
Won't take nothing for my journey now
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on

The wait is slow, and we've so far to go Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on

The wait is slow, and we've so far to go Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on

Only chain a man can stand
Is that chain of hand on hand
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on

Ain't no man on earth control
The weight of glory on a human soul.
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.

The wait is slow, and we've so far to go Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on

The wait is slow, and we've so far to go Keep your eyes on the prize [x3]

When you see a man walk free,
It makes you dream of jubilee.

When you see a child walk free,
It makes you dream of jubilee.

When you see a family free,
It makes you dream of jubilee.

Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.

An interview with Sara Groves about International Justice Mission

You're invited

2011-10-19T17:41:00.000-07:00

Friday11/11/11
Zack Wheeler
w/Jack Darwin, California Child, Akhethar, Some Seek Forgiveness
Doors Open : 7:00 PMShow Starts : 8:00 PM
$10.00 advanceBuy Tickets Online directly from the Boardwalk.

Looking forward to another evening of loud and proud!

Zack Wheeler Music is on facebook.

*******************************************************************************

And at the risk of winning a strange award for the most divergent blog content found in one post, I offer you:

Fuller Seminary Northern California presents…
N. T. Wright November 16, 2011

Fremont Presbyterian Church, 5770 Carlson Drive, Sacramento, CA 95819

Afternoon Session:
The Challenge of Paul For Tomorrow's World
1:30 p.m. • $15
Recent trends in academic research have generated much discussion concerning the writings of Paul, but what impact will this have on the future? N. T. Wright will share hisperspectives and will dialogue with a panel of local biblical and theological scholars.
Panel Members include:

Dr. Daniel Kirk, assistant professor of New Testament, Fuller Seminary, and author of Unlocking Romans and Jesus I Have Loved, But Paul?
Rev. Peter Rodgers, adjunct professor of New Testament, Fuller Seminary; Rector of St. Andrews Episcopal Church, Antelope; and author of Text and Story.

Dr. Libby Vincent, adjunct professor of theology, Fuller Seminary; speaker; and author of "All Glory, Laud and Honor to . . . Contemporary Worship?", in Insights: The Faculty Journal of Austin Theological Seminary.

Evening Session:
Kingdom and Cross—The Forgotten Message of the Gospels
7:00 p.m. • $10
Dr. Wright will share insights into why the church has embraced an "either/or" mentality regarding the message of salvation rather than embracing the work of making the world a better place. He will provide practical ideas on how to adopt a "both/and" approach tobelieving and doing.

Want to come? More information and tickets are available here: N.T. Wright registration.

I'd love to see you in the quiet of the pews at Fremont Pres. or at the dark and not so quiet concert venue. If you are coming, let me know.

Road trip

2011-10-18T16:56:00.000-07:00

Autumn's beauty is displaying itself boldly outside Madelaine's window in Eugene. It was perfect Oregon weather for our trip north: blue sky, a little rain, then plenty of fresh, cool air. We were in town for a debate tournament, but I was able to sneak away on Thursday and spend the day with my marvelous daughter. She came down with a nasty bug on Friday, so I was all the more grateful that we took the time away on Thursday.

A gorgeous drive to Harrisburg led to apple picking, difficult pumpkin decisions, and the chance for me to enjoy watching last year's roommates and their rich friendship.

Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit. ~ Aristotle

Apple picking in the autumn, watching friends quietly chatting, being with my daughter...it was a beautiful day. I am grateful.

The Way I See It: Growth

2011-10-17T18:07:00.000-07:00

picture from the archives

One minute you are celebrating the fact that they can tie their own shoes.....

Debate tournament ready

and before you know it.....

you are polishing their wingtips and ironing their button-down.

Growing up...it happens fast.

Enjoy photography? Join Molly this Friday for The Way I See It: Community

The Friday Clive

2011-10-14T04:56:00.000-07:00

"We were talking about cats and dogs the other day and decided that both have consciences

but the dog, being an honest, humble person, always has a bad one, but the cat is a Pharisee and always has a good one.

When he sits and stares you out of countenance he is thanking God that he is not as these dogs, or these humans, or even as these other cats!"

The Way I See It: Peace

2011-10-10T13:02:00.000-07:00

“You have been given questions to which you cannot be given answers. You will have to live them out - perhaps a little at a time."

"And how long is that going to take?"

"I don't know. As long as you live, perhaps."

"That could be a long time."

"I will tell you a further mystery," he said. "It may take longer.”

Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow

I am beginning to realize that an eternal perspective is essential to peace. I am not the beginning and the end, the world is not revolving around me; the story is so much bigger than my immediate life, or even my entire life. That is a relief to me. It is funny how when I come to accept that fact it makes life more precious, each moment more available, and life itself more peace-filled.

Each week I look out at the world through Molly's photo prompt and I see this creative exercise weave its way into my contemplation and prayer. Not only has peace been a photo prompt, it has been part of the Lectionary at church and therefore the subject of a fabulous sermon. These familiar words were perfectly timed:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6&7

Not unlike joy (and if you missed the discussion on joy, you can find the post and the wise and encouraging comments here), peace is one of those things that can seem elusive, diminishing when life gets hard. But the peace we want is not based on ourselves, our circumstances, this moment in time. It is the peace that comes from putting worries into thankful prayers, and seeing God's peace guarding our hearts and our minds in Christ. Wow. That is the kind of peace I want to know.

There is something about the changing seasons that reinforces this eternal perspective and its peace. The darkness comes earlier, and we have time to light candles and enjoy the evening.

The acorns are falling, the leaves are changing colors, the time for planting bulbs and cutting back perennials is here. As a friend wrote to me this morning, "Life is precious...I keep thinking about how life changes so rapidly while pretending to stay the same, and telling myself to really be in each moment, appreciating, savoring. I think if we could really know what a fragile gift life is, we would be living more peaceful, kind, and loving lives." Some seasons do pretend to stay the same, to last forever, and yet it is in the changes of the natural world that we are reminded again and again that time is marching on.

We have been hit with two rain storms in the last week, and as I type this morning the rain drops are loudly landing on the roof. The ground is happily soaking up the water, and I can see bits of green overtaking the depressing brown of summer. Seasons change, time moves on, worries will come and go; the constant can be thankfulness in prayer, and finding true peace as my heart's guard.

The Way I See It is a weekly photo prompt from Molly at Close to Home. I have been so happy to see two friends joining in:Tolle Scribe and The Autumn Rain. Next week's prompt is growth...why don't you join in the fun, too!

I love figs

2011-10-08T00:29:00.000-07:00

A large pile of ripe figs became a delicious dinner last weekend. I cooked the fruit over low heat, added half a bottle pinot noir and a sprig of rosemary, and let the liquid reduce to a thick, burgundy sauce. While the sauce reduced, I browned the pork roast and put it in the crock pot. Adding the sauce, I let it cook until the house was filled with the delicious fragrance.

Cheesy polenta was the base for the tender meat and sauce.

Yumola.

The Friday Clive

2011-10-07T09:43:00.000-07:00

"Humanity does not pass through phases as a train passes through stations: being alive, it has the privilege of always moving yet never leaving anything behind. Whatever we have been, in some sort we are still."

The Way I See It: Evening

2011-10-02T11:26:00.000-07:00

Some evenings are for pulling in the driveway and being greeted by the warmth of light and life inside.

Or for watching the beams of the sun's final seconds fall upon the rustic wood in the kitchen,

and noticing the sunset with jaw-dropping awe.

But some evenings are spent on the road, being parent groupies, all set for an evening of loud and proud.

It was a solo acoustic night for Zack.

You can learn a lot about your son when you hear his music, watch the joy as his fingers dance on the strings, see his heart in his lyrics.

It was a marvelous evening. Thanks, Zack.

The Friday Clive

2011-09-30T04:40:00.000-07:00

"Being fallen creatures we tend to resent offences against our taste, at least as much as, or even more than, offences against our conscience or reason...The tendency is easily observed among children; friendship wavers when you discover that a hitherto trusted playmate actually likes prunes. But even for adults it is "sweet, sweet, sweet poison" to feel able to imply "thus saith the Lord" at the end of every expression of our pet aversions. To avoid this horrible danger we must perpetually try to distinguish, however closely they get entwined both by the subtle nature of the facts and by the secret importunity of our passions, those attitudes in a writer which we can honestly and confidently condemn as real evils, and those qualities in his writing which simply annoy and offend us as men of taste. This is difficult, because the latter are often much more obvious and provoke such a very violent response."

Twenty

2011-09-29T08:09:00.000-07:00

Zack is TWENTY!

The candles blazed and the family sang off-key, so it is official.

A faithful brother, a hardworking student, a new Verizon employee, a passionate musician, a junior high group leader, a fine man...that is my son.

The cake was delicious (just ask the dog, who ate 3/4 of it!)

We love you, Zack. You are a delight to your family. Blessings to you as you begin this important year of your life.

When joy is almost gone

2011-09-27T09:35:00.000-07:00

As I open my emails, answer my phone, read my mail, I am reminded that many of us are in a season of suffering, surrounded by layers of worry and sorrow, and it is collecting deep within us. Worry takes on different faces for different people, and it never is just one thing: the banal worries of money and terra firma responsibilities, things like lay offs and mortgage troubles and cars breaking and houses aging. Or the love of husband/wife, parent/child, friend to friend, feeling the stretch of years and choices and needing to forgive...again. And even just living with ourselves, seeing our choices and wishing that just this once we could be nice or flexible or ready for the challenge. And then the life and death worries hit us when we are already down; they wash every single other worry away...for a time. The middle of the night phone calls, the hurried travel to be at the bedside of a dying father or cousin or friend, the hope that the surgery of a spouse will bring good news after the terror of waiting, the crash of time and eternity when we wonder why everything else bogs us down so badly. We continue to get up, make ends meet, fix meals, love children, kiss husbands, but eventually we are left wondering where the joy went.

One day last week, I reached for whatever perfume was on the bathroom counter. I have three bottles that were my mother's, and I spray a mist of memory out every morning, breathe in Mom's fragrance throughout each day. But the bottle I grabbed was almost empty. The perfume is called JOY.

What do you do when the joy is almost gone? As someone who believes in God's purposes, who lives for eternity, who knows there is a bigger story being written behind the troubles, I am still human. And the joy feels depleted right now.

I am curious where YOU go to find joy in troubled times. What is your wisdom? Your inspiration?

I know that seasons come and go, but joy must transcend the circumstances. Happiness can be married to the now and its feelings, but joy needs to be bigger and broader and more connected to eternity.

Joy is not gone...just stretched. I hope you'll chime in. I would love to hear your thoughts.

The Way I See It: Autumn

2011-09-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

The Way I See It photo prompt comes from Molly at Close to Home.

Where I live we are late bloomers in the autumn category. We have apple festivals up the hill, and a few more coloring leaves there at the snowline. But just down the hill at my house it has a decidedly "mild summer" feel to it. But I searched and found signs of autumn's early rumblings:

I am not sure what possessed me but I bought a pumpkin the size of a small country. Ginormous is the word that everyone has used. But you know what? It makes me laugh. And it is so beautifully orange. So even if I have to tighten my core muscles to lift the thing, the pumpkin is here for the duration.

The tree we have the most of is oak, and those leaves turn brown and yellow in the autumn. It is the reds that I miss. But yesterday at the library I saw these leaves sparkling in the early morning light and they sang "Autumn!" to me.

And walking across a parking lot, these little "lanterns" were scattered on the edge. What a strangely beautiful plant! With the indented lines down their sides, they almost look like fat, shriveling carrots.

Just outside my kitchen window the light is particularly sparkling in the early morning and the late afternoon. The slant of the autumnal sunshine makes it all the more special. Claire found this patch of weeds all aglow in the late afternoon yesterday. It is amazing what the right light (and a creative girl) can do to a weed.

The long shadows and the early darkness have arrived, but we wait impatiently for a crisp chill in the air and the first rain of the season. Autumn's pleasures are my favorites.

You should join the fun! This Friday's prompt is Evening.

The Friday Clive

2011-09-23T04:29:00.000-07:00

I am sure that some are born to write as trees are born to bear leaves: for these, writing is a necessary mode of their own development. If the impulse to write survives the hope of success, then one is among these. If not, then the impulse was at best only pardonable vanity, and it will certainly disappear when the hope is withdrawn.

The Way I See It: Joy

2011-09-20T13:20:00.000-07:00

Photo prompt: Molly at Close to Home

I remember my affliction and my wandering,

the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,

and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind

and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;

therefore I will wait for him.”

An early morning in Morgan Hill, California

When I think of joy I think of morning mercies, new every day, and compassion that never fails.

Therefore I have hope. AMEN!

Highly recommended

2011-09-19T01:05:00.000-07:00

"I was not born in Alabama in the 1890s. You may as well know this now. I've never eaten grits, cropped a share, or ridden a boxcar. No gypsy woman attended my birth and there's no hellhound on my trail, as far as I'm aware Let this record show that I am a white, middle-class Englishman, openly trespassing on the music and myth of the American south.

If that weren't bad enough, I'm also an actor: one of those pampered ninnies who can't find his way through an airport without a babysitter....

Worst of all, I've broken an important rule of art, music and career paths: actors are supposed to act, and musicians are supposed to music. That's how it works. You don't buy fish from a dentist, or ask a plumber for financial advice, so why listen to an actor's music?

The answer is - there is no answer. If you care about pedigree then you should try elsewhere, because I have nothing in your size....

These great and beautiful artists lived it as they played it. All of them knew the price of a loaf of bread and most had times in their lives when they couldn't scrape it together. They had credentials, in other words, and I respect those as much as the next man, possibly more.

But at the same time, I could never bear to see this music confined to a glass cabinet, under the heading Culture: Only To Be Handled By Elderly Black Men. That way lies the grave, for the blues and just about everything else: Shakespeare only performed at The Globe, Bach only played by Germans in tights. It's formaldehyde...

So that's my only credential - my one dog-eared ID card that I hope will get me through the velvet ropes. I love this music, as authentically as I know how, and I want you to love it, too. If you get a thousandth of the pleasure from it that I've had, we're ahead of the game."

The Friday Clive

2011-09-16T08:53:00.000-07:00

Once again, a longer quote.

"Some people feel guilty about their anxieties and regard them as a defect of faith. I don't agree at all. They are afflictions, not sins. Like all afflictions, they are, if we can so take them, our share in the Passion of Christ. For the beginning of the Passion - the first move, so to speak - is in Gethsemane. In Gethsemane a very strange and significant thing seems to have happened.

It is clear from many of His sayings that Our Lord had long foreseen His death. He knew what conduct such as His, in a world such as we have made of this, must inevitably lead to. But it is clear that this knowledge must somehow have been withdrawn from Him before He prayed in Gethsemane. He could not, with whatever reservation about the Father's will, have prayed that the cup might pass and simultaneously known that it would not. That is both a logical and a psychological impossibility. You see what this involves? Lest any trail incident to humanity should be lacking, the torments of hope - of suspense, anxiety - were at the last moment loosed upon Him - the supposed possibility that, after all, He might, He just conceivably might, be spared the supreme horror...

But for this last (and erroneous) hope against hope, and the consequent tumult of the soul, the sweat of blood, perhaps He would not have been very Man. To live in a fully predictable world is not to be a man...

We all try to accept with some sort of submission our afflictions when they arrive. But the prayer in Gethsemane shows that the preceding anxiety is equally God's will and equally part of our human destiny. The perfect Man experienced it. And the servant is not greater than the Master. We are Christians, not Stoics."

For the seventeenth time...we begin again

2011-09-15T10:45:00.000-07:00

Surrounded by Sonlight binders, listening to piano practice, I take a moment to think of where we have been and where we are going.

Three of my students are done homeschooling. Two are in college, one is taking a gap year and working full-time. They are hard working adults now. When did they become adults? It seems like we started homeschooling just yesterday, but in fact it was seventeen years ago. I was thirty-five. I am now 52. It was NOT yesterday.

There are three more years of teaching Claire, six more of teaching Brennan. I must remember: Finish strong. Each day, each year. I want to stay inspired, stay energetic (or become energetic again.) I want to enjoy the hard work ahead. Claire is by far my most creative student, Brennan is the most self-motivated. Creativity can have the time and freedom to blossom here at home; self-motivation gets a whole lot done. I am really looking forward to this year.

We are using Sonlight Core H and Core 300 this year . We're tweaking things (I love tweaking) but I am happy to have a lesson plan to start with. I am excited to learn more about the 20th century, about physical science, about geography and poetry.

We're back to speech (for Claire and Brennan) and debate (for Brennan.) Claire is taking ballet for the first time. For fun Brennan's been learning to juggle, thanks to an Usborne juggling set I found at one of the conferences I worked this summer. We have plenty of familiar things, a few new ones thrown in, and we are off and running for a new school year.

We have stocked up on our own brand of essentials: Cocoa...I should probably send Nestle a thank you note when we are done homeschooling. It is miraculous what solace can be found in a cup of cocoa. Cool new (to us) maps that we found in Natalie's things. Brennan and I get lost in maps (in a good way, of course). And today we head to the library where there is a stack of books on hold for us. And for the teacher? Bags of French roast beans ready to grind, and Hugh Laurie playing the blues on the ipod.

This is going to be a great year.

Dear Natalie

2011-09-12T04:30:00.000-07:00

Thursday the 1st was Madelaine's last day here. We ran some errands, saw The Help (loved it) and then she finished getting ready. When we finally went to bed, I could not sleep. There were too many anxious thoughts to unravel, too many rabbit trails racing off in different directions inside my head. I waited in the dark for sleep to come, but instead the phone rang at midnight. It was my dear cousin's retirement home calling. Natalie had been found on the floor of her apartment, she appeared to have had a stroke and they were taking her to Stanford Hospital. Two hours later the doctor called to report that yes, she had had a stroke, and that it was severe. I packed a bag and waited for dawn. I took Madelaine to the bus station and waved her off into the sunrise, and then drove west to Natalie.

Stanford Hospital is huge. It took a long time to find which ICU she was in, but eventually I found myself by her bedside. I was there for two days, holding her hand, wishing that the news was better, wishing that this was all a dream. Finally, when we stepped out for a few minutes on Saturday evening, she passed from this world to the next. I will miss her so much.

We spent a week with Natalie in Oregon every year for the last thirteen years. She had never married or had children, so she enjoyed the chance to play grandmother for a week. She loved seeing the kids splashing in the pool, swinging on the swings, playing shuffleboard. In the last few years, she and I have made sure we had an afternoon to ourselves, sipping lattes and talking about things. She was worried about having a stroke, surviving and not being independent anymore. She was worried about being a burden. I hope I was able to reassure her that whatever happened, we would be there and it would all be okay.

And all is okay, despite the gaping hole of grief that has been ripped open once again. We are working to clear out her apartment, and thanks to the loving help of my friend Marcia and my son Zack, we are done going down to Palo Alto. It is a solemn and yet sacred thing to go through someone's belongings, to determine what needs to happen to all that is left behind. Natalie had been getting rid of things bit by bit for years, so the job, while big, could have been a lot bigger. In every corner I find reminders of her love for us: a birthday card, a note she saved, pictures of our trips to Oregon, to name a few.

Natalie was a kind, generous, brilliant woman, and I am so grateful to have had the gift of her love and friendship for so many years.

Natalie Anne Cobby

3-31-27 to 9-3-11

Eternal rest grant unto Natalie, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. Amen.

The Way I See It: Work

2011-09-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

Photo prompt from Molly at Close to Home : Work.

So then, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.

~Philippians 2:1-13~

Back to Eugene

My work in this season of life is learning to say goodbye. Until Christmas, or until eternity. Letting go while still loving deeply, keeping my hands and my heart open; it is the hardest job I have ever done.

Sisters, 1985

Layers of loss make it tempting to close up, batten down the hatches, harden my heart. But I want to keep loving, to look life in the face, all the good, the bad, and the ugly, and to still say yes to what God has for the future.

I want to celebrate while I still have breath. There is so much Life happening here, and I don't want to miss out because I am too weary to see the party right in front of me. I know I will regret it if I don't hear the music and start dancing.

The Friday Clive

2011-09-09T12:53:00.000-07:00

Christians have often disputed as to whether what leads the Christian home is good actions, or Faith in Christ. I have no right really to speak on such a difficult question, but it does seem to me like asking which blade in a pair of scissors is (more) necessary.

The Way I See It: Home

2011-09-03T11:58:00.000-07:00

(A photo prompt from Molly at Close to Home )

When the photo prompt at Molly's was "Home", I was sitting in the Stanford Hospital cafeteria, waiting for the ICU visiting hours to start again. I was surrounded by medical students whose faces give new meaning to the word tired. I am sure this cafeteria is their home away from home. I also saw hospital visitors, many who had children who were patients at Stanford Children's Hospital. They knew the cashier's names by heart, they knew what soup was served on Fridays, they knew where the forks were hiding and whether or not the entree of the day was worth getting. This was their home, too.

I had thought I would post pictures of my husband and children, because wherever they are is my home. But as I sat having my salad, I looked up at the wall art and saw this:

Doctors, med students, techs, nurses, all trying to help those who are suffering; family and friends looking for hope and healing for their loved ones; me, waiting to hold my dying cousin's hand. We are all being asked to make a home in this place of suffering, for a short time or a lifetime. This is a home no one would choose, but many have to live here everyday.

When I am with these five beautiful faces (and their daddy) I am most at home. But sometimes we are called away to a time of suffering, and home has to expand to that place, too.

In Hannah Coulter, Wendell Berry writes, "Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery."

There is plenty of dark in life; we all need love to carry us. I am thinking today of those who continue their vigils at Stanford Hospital, continue suffering, continue hoping against hope. May God bring them love to carry them, like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery. And may our house be a place of light in the darkness for those I call my heart's home.

The Friday Clive

2011-09-02T12:44:00.000-07:00

A longer quote than usual:

On Liturgy

Every service is a structure of acts and worship through which we receive a sacrament, or repent, or supplicate, or adore. And it enables us to do these things best - if you like it, it "works" best - when, through long familiarity, we don't have to think about it. As long as you notice, and have to count, the steps, you are not yet dancing, but only learning to dance. A good shoe is a good shoe you don't notice. Good reading becomes possible when you need not consciously think about eyes, or light, or print, or spelling. The perfect church service would be the one we were almost unaware of; our attention would have been fixed on God.

But every novelty prevents this. It fixes our attention on the service itself; and thinking about worship is a different thing from worshipping...

Thus my whole liturgiological position really boils down to an entreaty for permanence and uniformity. I can make do with almost any kind of service whatever, if only it will stay put. But if each form is snatched away just when I am beginning to feel at home in it, then I can never make any progress in the art of worship...

It may well be that some variations which seem to me merely matters of taste really involve grave doctrinal differences. But surely not all? For if grave doctrinal differences are really as numerous as variations in practice, then we shall have to conclude that no such thing as the Church of England exists. And anyway, the Liturgical Fidget is not a purely Anglican phenomenon; I have heard Roman Catholics complain of it, too...

One more day

2011-09-01T09:30:00.000-07:00

Summer sunset

Last Sunday we had a marvelous dinner, smack dab in the middle of the afternoon, all seven of us around the table. No one was at work, no one was at camp, no one was at school. We set up a table in the living room, which made it feel all the more like Thanksgiving, and we ate barbeque chicken and potatoes and talked. The talking is the part I will always remember.

And it actually began the night before. A few of us were piled on my bed upstairs and the question was asked, "Can you rate each member of the family on how 'nice' they are?" This strange request reveals a few things about our family: We love personality quizzes (even the Which _________ Character Are You? ones), AND we view life much too competitively. Not only do you need to say if I am kind, but am I kinder than the next guy. That is important. Some of us loved this...those of us who were in the top two or three of everyone's list. Some of us had a different experience, but all of us found it very interesting. One thing we learned is that "nice" is a decidedly subjective word. Opposite of mean? Gentle? Generous? Is it nice to family, nice to outsiders, nice to the masses? And where does blunt speech come in? As a famously blunt person, this was of great interest to me. Another person in the family (who will remain anonymous) was very concerned that skeletons in the closet not be allowed in the consideration of kindness. "Judge me as the (wo)man I am now, not the shoe throwing, angry kid I was before." I am all for judging based on the most recent version of me. Eventually we went to sleep, but my guess is we all thought about kindness as we lay there in the dark.

So on Sunday, as we passed the chicken and potatoes, the kindness scale came back up. It was obviously not a comfortable subject for some, so my peace loving son switched it to the talents of each family member... which then slowly changed to things we simply love about each other. Everyone got their turn. Details were discussed. It was an unplanned, encouraging, real and never-to-be-forgotten time.

We have seen the weak links in our family chain stretch in the last year. We have been hurt, disappointed, scared and worried about each other, sometimes for legitimate reasons but sometimes simply because life is changing and that is intimidating. As a mother this has been humbling, but I do believe we saw with different eyes on Sunday. And we told each other what we saw. And we could hear it.

Madelaine leaves tomorrow. We've had a few short weeks of everyone being home. It is amazing what can happen in a few weeks. Or in one dinner on a hot Sunday afternoon.

Seven months

2011-08-29T10:01:00.000-07:00

Every week she walks to the front, taking the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation in her hand. She holds on to the chairs for support. She smiles as one who knows that all is well. She is frail. She is beautiful. And every week I see her and my heart lurches and the tears fall. She reminds me so much of my mother.

My children laugh at me when I tell them this. Because, you see, she wears socks with her Birkenstocks. There are no well-ironed creases in her shirts. She is short. My mother would have stayed home from church if Birkenstocks were her only footwear option.

But the way she walks, holding on to those chairs, the way her smile exudes wisdom and trust, these are reminders of the mother I miss. And watching her daughter's hand resting on her shoulder makes my hand burn with longing.

I miss you, Mama.

The Way I See It: Morning

2011-08-27T00:07:00.000-07:00

Molly at Close to Home has begun offering a weekly photography prompt: The Way I See It. This week's assignment is Morning.

I have a love/hate relationship with mornings. I love being up, but getting up is ridiculously difficult for me. I love getting up long before the crowd, and yet I often sleep until the first person stumbles through my room on their way to the shower. If I get up early, coffee is a necessary element, preferably a hot, fresh Americano. Fortunately when I stumble down the stairs in the morning, there is almost always espresso waiting for me. This is one of the benefits of having a husband who wakes pre-dawn.

If coffee is my first morning thought, light is a close second. Once the sun comes up over the hill and heads towards our windows, the sun and shadows wake me up to the beauty around me. I love the morning light.

I am never ready to eat in the morning, but eat we must. On special days popovers are a favorite breakfast, and when they are filling the house with their buttery fragrance, even I can get hungry.

I really do love morning, it just takes a cup of coffee to remind me of that fact each and every morning.

Love to take pictures? Next week's prompt is home. Join the fun at Close to Home.

The Friday Clive

2011-08-26T09:30:00.000-07:00

(Senior devil Screwtape to junior devil Wormwood:)

"There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human's mind against the Enemy. He (God) wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them.

Your patient will, of course, have picked up the notion that he must submit with patience to the Enemy's will. What the Enemy means by this is primarily that he should accept with patience the tribulation which has actually been dealt out to him - the present anxiety and suspense. It is about this that he is to say 'Thy will be done,' and for the daily task of bearing this that the daily bread will be provided."

"and things slowly come back into perspective"

2011-08-25T04:24:00.000-07:00

Cannon Beach, one of my special places

"Cooking is the only part of housekeeping I manage with any grace; it's something like writing a book: you look in the refrigerator and see what's there, choose all the ingredients you need, and a few your husband thinks you don't need, and put them all together to concoct a dish. Vacuum cleaners are simply something more for me to trip over; and a kitchen floor, no matter how grubby, looks better before I wax it...Every so often I need OUT; something will throw me into total disproportion, and I have to get away from everybody - away from all these people I love most in the world - in order to regain a sense of proportion.

I like hanging sheets on lines strung under the apple trees - the birds like it, too. I enjoy going out the incinerator after dark and watching the flames; my bad feelings burn away with the trash. But the house is still visible, and I can hear the sounds for a few minutes. My special place is a brook in a green glade, a circle of quiet from which there is no visible sign of human beings. There's a natural stone bridge over the brook, and I sit there, dangling my legs and looking through the foliage at the sky reflected in the water, and things slowly come back into perspective...If I sit for a while, then my impatience, crossness, frustration, are indeed annihilated, and my sense of humor returns."

A Circle of Quiet, by Madeleine L'Engle

First read aloud for the year, and a book trailer

2011-08-25T00:07:00.000-07:00

Claire and I have really enjoyed N.D. Wilson's 100 Cupboards series (100 Cupboards, Dandelion Fire, The Chestnut King), so we got pretty excited when we heard about Wilson's new series: Ashtown Burials. Book one is now available: The Dragon's Tooth. We're looking forward to reading it aloud together.

When Zack was in Idaho this summer, he was able to help with the sound for the book trailer of The Dragon's Tooth. I think it's pretty fun:

Waiting a little longer

2011-08-24T07:25:00.000-07:00

I am never ready for school to begin in August. My husband, however, has been teaching since August 10th. Yes, you read that right. August 10th. Who thought up that calendar? He is happy to be back in the saddle, though, and I am happy to, um, not be back in the saddle quite yet, so it is a win-win for the Wheeler family.

Phase One of our homeschool year (Great Books Two) starts next Tuesday, and Phase Two (Everything Else) begins the following Tuesday. I happen to love the tradition of starting on the day after Labor Day.

I have to admit, though, it is time to be finishing up my school planning. Earlier this week, in the reckless spirit of procrastination, I read blogs about homeschooling instead of working on my own plans. There are other areas where I use this technique: reading cookbooks in lieu of cooking, buying beading magazines rather than making earrings, hording yarn long before knitting anything, to name a few. Though maturing means I do this less and less, this stalling methodology does reap benefits. I get inspired, feel camaraderie, and learn.

Recent treasures include:

The humorous, wise and ever-reasonable Ordo Amoris:

There is always a sickening feeling that first school morning...You suspect that you have either planned too much and this will cause you to lose all credibility with your children or you have planned too little which will leave your children free to pursue their own interests such as Facebook or staring into space or eating, none of which give you any confidence in the idea of unschooling. But you wake up to find someone making coffee and someone reading their Bible and someone at the computer watching a math video and you feel a small stirring of hope. Yes, we can. We can join together as a family in a symbiotic relationship of living, loving and learning.

I will think later on why "making coffee" caught my attention more fully than the "reading their Bible" part. I am sure it had to do with how little sleep I got the night before. I encourage you to read It Begins in its entirety.

Ann at A Holy Experience writes vulnerable words:

"Education is an atmosphere.” I once wrote Charlotte Mason’s words on a chalkboard, just so I’d remember.

I wanted to live in the air of that thought.

Education is the atmosphere we breathe, the envelope of wonder that surrounds us, held by the gravity of our daily habits.

I am scared to homeschool this year.

Sometimes an atmosphere can grow dangerously thin and lungs can gasp...When the books and the plans start to teeter, when I start to hyperventilate, I’ll need to remember the one Who I am supposed to live and breathe and have my being in.

I know well the hyperventilating, the need to remember what is true. My days are often punctuated with humility.

And this is where my procrastination strategy comes in. It helps to hear the voices of others, to drink from the well where they find courage. Being a teacher is serious business, and even with "only" two homeschooling students, I feel a healthy burden of responsibility. Classroom teachers feel it, homeschooling parents feel it. It's a big job. Not impossible, but big. And when the pressures of life start moving in, there has to be a way to block the door, turn off the phone, say no, ignore, or wait, in order to keep the atmosphere clear for learning. That is my challenge this year.

So it's back to putting the finishing touches on the plans, back to summoning the courage and determination necessary for a great year. More importantly, it is back to teaching two of my favorite people in the world!

Back to school.

But not quite yet.

The Friday Clive

2011-08-19T00:28:00.000-07:00

The complexity - the close texture - of all the great events in the Christian year impresses me more and more. Each is a window opening on the total mystery.

Ulrich Schaffer (1942- ) for Laur

2011-08-18T09:47:00.000-07:00

We ask ourselves what is behind it all
and meet the unanswerable a thousand times
and yet continue to be drawn
to the many doors of life.

We hesitate, but want to go on.
We are fearful, but want to learn.
We are timid, but want to be courageous.
We shrink back, and yet want to grow.

We have to take courage and jump.
We have to cut the ropes and set ourselves adrift.
We have to leave the solid ground to learn to swim.
We have to sacrifice our security and take risks.

Then we will experience God as the hand in the abyss,
as the net under the high wire,
as lifeboat on the high seas,
as ground under our feet.

from Surprised by Light, 1980

Putting the leaf back in the table

2011-08-15T07:59:00.001-07:00

Sometime in June I took a leaf out of the table. There was not going to be a day for the rest of the summer when even six of us would be here for dinner; the circle would be enough.

Every morning it hit me, sort of like those "what is wrong with this picture?" games. The table was too small, and yet it was just right.

Today we put the leaf back in. Everyone is home for two short weeks, and we are beginning to ascend to the routines of autumn. Madelaine will leave on the 2nd of September, but for now everyone is home. And I am happy.

Prayer for families

2011-08-14T09:43:00.000-07:00

Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who settest the solitary in families: We commend to thy continual care the homes in which thy people dwell. Put far from them, we beseech thee, every root of bitterness, the desire of vainglory, and the pride of life. Fill them with faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness. Knit together in constant affection those who, in holy wedlock, have been made one flesh. Turn the hearts of the parents to the children, and the hearts of the children to the parents; and so enkindle fervent charity among us all, that we may evermore be kindly affectioned one to another; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Book of Common Prayer

CiRCE

2011-08-13T02:28:00.000-07:00

Every year I go through mental and fiscal gymnastics to see if I can go to the annual CiRCE conference. Every year there is a roadblock; sometimes it's time, sometimes it's money, often it's family needs. This year there was EVERY roadblock possible. It was very obvious I was NOT supposed to attend, even though the topic is one I have been wrestling with deeply for the last three years: What is Man? A Contemplation of the Divine Image.

At least now I can listen to some of the talks. Want to join me? You can find the talks online, some free and some for cost:

CiRCE free audio library

2011 CiRCE Conference talks for purchase

A special note: One of the reasons I was so sorry to miss this year's conference is that my dear friend Marcia Brim (from Brimwood Press) spoke on narrative theology, specifically the Genesis 1-3 text. We've had conversations on this topic at our annual lunches for the last few years; I would have LOVED to be there to participate in the discussion that was birthed from her talk. I highly recommend you listen to Teaching Theology through Story. It can be found in that second link, just scroll down to the end of the list.

I am already looking ahead to 2012...maybe this time the road will be clear.

The Friday Clive

2011-08-12T09:41:00.000-07:00

"Most, I fancy, have discovered that to be born is to be exposed to delights and miseries greater than imagination could have anticipated; that the choice of ways at any cross-road may be more important than we think; and that short cuts may lead to very nasty places."

Taken from Selected Literary Essays, "The Vision of John Bunyan" (1962)

A gift of grace

2011-08-11T11:28:00.000-07:00

Shortly after we arrived in Cannon Beach for our vacation, my friend Angela came to our room bearing a gift. Little did I know what beauty was wrapped in that simple brown paper.

We only see each other for a week each summer at the conference center, and yet she has prayed for us through my mom's illness and reached out to our family in many thoughtful ways.

But this quilt...oh my! Part of the gift is knowing that the fabric choice and piecing and careful stitching are bathed in prayer. This is a gift of grace to me.

There's no way around the fact that the last two years have been difficult ones, and the last nine months particularly so. Amidst it all, though, there are kind friends, generous gifts and quilted beauty. It really does make a difference.

Thank you, Angela. Your friendship is a gift to us.

Twenty-one

2011-08-08T23:19:00.000-07:00

Has it really been twenty-one years since this beautiful girl came into the world? Surely it has only been a day, and yet it has been forever.

I am deeply grateful for my daughter. From her earliest days she has been a joy, and over the years she has filled our family with stories and laughter and questions and wisdom. She is great company and a fascinating person.

Monday evening was clear and warm, the perfect time for a birthday celebration on the Fitzpatrick Winery deck. This vista of Chardonnay grape vines and the extensive Fairplay wine region has been the backdrop for dozens of our birthday, anniversary and ordinary day celebrations over the last twenty-two years. The tranquility of the summer evening above the vineyard set the scene for our party of four; add to that a bottle of Eire Ban Sauvignon Blanc, and Madelaine was able to lift a glass with us as we celebrated her twenty-first birthday.

Even the setting sun seemed to understand the importance of this day, the celebration that was happening under its layered canopy. Amidst the deep conversation, the kind that crops up around Madelaine so often, we almost missed the beauty behind us. Fortunately, it tapped on my shoulder and caught my attention just in time.

Happy birthday, dear Madelaine. I am so grateful for you!

"What if there is a Reality behind the reality we know?"

2011-07-26T12:26:00.000-07:00

Books and Culture, July/August 2011
The Aroma of the New by Makoto Fujimura

Fujimura reflects on the play Our Town by Thornton Wilder:

On the spare, dark stage, the famed story of a small New England town was brought to life. One scene in particular stood out to me. Young Emily, who died giving birth, is caught somewhere between life and death, fighting to recover her memory. She is given the opportunity to move back in time to her 12th birthday.

At this point, the stark colors of the small stage begin to change. And faintly, we in the audience begin to detect an aroma. At first, we think that it is a nearby restaurant cooking their dinner for customers. But the aroma of bacon and eggs continues to fill the theater. The producers have a surprise in store of us. The entire back stage opens up to reveal yet another stage, filled with color and light. Real bacon and real eggs are being cooked by Emily's mother. Emily's memory, though fading away, is depicted as more real than the "reality" of the main stage, or even of the gravesite where the other characters stoically sit. Before Emily returns from her vision to die, she is given, perhaps for the first time, a full experience of Reality - fully engaging our senses in the process.

What if there is a Reality behind the reality we know? What if there is a Stage behind the stage of our life? What if our "memory and desire" point to a greater Reality?

Find the rest here: The Aroma of the New

I say to you, do not be anxious for your life...

2011-07-17T02:49:00.000-07:00

For this reason I say to you, do not be anxious for your life, as to what you shall eat, or what you shall drink; nor for you body, as to what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?

Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil, nor do they spin, yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory did not clothe himself like one of these.

But if God arrays the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more do so for you, O men of little faith?

Do not be anxious then, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'With what shall we clothe ourselves?' For all these things the Gentiles eagerly seek; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.

But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Matthew 6:25, 28-34

For good relationships are heaven anywhere...

2011-07-16T10:22:00.000-07:00

Neither do walls nor rich furniture make a home...But where there are good relationships, where love binds the family together and to God, there happiness is always to be found.

For good relationships are heaven anywhere.

But the fire of love must be kept burning warmly and brightly with the sweet wood of sacrifice. In teaching us to cross the "I" out of life, our Lord tells us the secret of happiness.

Divine love seeks to give rather than receive, to serve rather than to be served, to love rather than be loved, and will sacrifice anything for the beloved. Only then does love become a clean and holy fire in the heart.

Saint Seraphim of Sarov
Nineteenth Century

St. Seraphim quote found at Close to Home

The Friday Clive

2011-07-15T04:29:00.000-07:00

We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the presence of God. The world is crowded with Him. He walks everywhere incognito. And the incognito is not always hard to penetrate. The real labour is to remember, to attend. In fact, to come awake. Still more, to remain awake.

Charlotte Wisdom

2011-07-14T03:25:00.000-07:00

"We perceive that the great work of education is to inspire children with vitalising ideas as to every relation of life, every department of knowledge, every subject of thought; and to give deliberate care to the formation of those habits of the good life which are the outcome of vitalising ideas." Charlotte Mason, School Education

HT: Ordo Amoris

Summer musings

2011-07-13T13:03:00.000-07:00

I miss the beach in the summer. I miss the foggy mornings, the cool temperatures, the salty breezes. Moving from the beach to the foothills, foothills that are famous for scorching summer temperatures, made the transition bumpy. I wilt in the heat, and I come alive in the fog. Summers here have been a challenge, all twenty-three of them.

But not this week. Monday night, Rex and I waited at the train station for Madelaine, and we froze in the chilly wind. This morning I got up, and the high fog of a coastal summer was in my foothill view. No salty breeze, but it was chilly enough that I grabbed a sweater as I ran out the door. A sweater. In July. Up the hill we drove, above the fog, and when I turned around to come back, I could see the layer of gray waiting. For a moment I could imagine the ocean breaking against the sand just beyond the clouds.

My beach fix will be satisfied soon, but this morning it took all the discipline I could muster to not keep driving west.

I miss the beach in the summer.

As the rain...

2011-07-10T04:01:00.000-07:00

Red geraniums after a welcome summer rain

As the rain and the snow
   come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
   without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
   so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
   It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
   and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.
You will go out in joy
   and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
   will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
   will clap their hands.

Isaiah 5:10-12

When the words get stuck

2011-07-09T11:07:00.000-07:00

So what do you do when the words get stuck in your head? This usually happens for me when I am upset or busy, and my solution used to be to solve the problems, or hack down the to-do-list, and then get back to writing. That isn't possible any more. The problems are too big, the list too long, and I am not interested in waiting FOREVER to get back to work.

Two resources have helped me keep it going this summer:

750 Words

From their home page:

I've long been inspired by an idea I first learned about in The Artist's Way called morning pages. Morning pages are three pages of writing done every day, typically encouraged to be in "long hand", typically done in the morning, that can be about anything and everything that comes into your head. It's about getting it all out of your head, and is not supposed to be edited or censored in any way. The idea is that if you can get in the habit of writing three pages a day, that it will help clear your mind and get the ideas flowing for the rest of the day. Unlike many of the other exercises in that book, I found that this one actually worked and was really really useful.

I've used the exercise as a great way to think out loud without having to worry about half-formed ideas, random tangents, private stuff, and all the other things in our heads that we often filter out before ever voicing them or writing about them. It's a daily brain dump. Over time, I've found that it's also very helpful as a tool to get thoughts going that have become stuck, or to help get to the bottom of a rotten mood.

750 Words is the online, future-ified, fun-ified translation of this exercise.

I write with reckless abandon, as fast as I can, not worrying about content. I don't even go back and read it. I just write.

Not only have I kept writing, but I have sorted out worries and ideas and dreams and plans. 750 Words is a brilliant resource.

On a more creative and less time consuming note, there is The One-Minute Writer. In their words, "You have 1,440 minutes a day. Use one of them to write." Complete with a one-minute timer in the sidebar, this site provides you with the prompt for the day and the ring-a-ling to let you know when your time is up. I simply open up a word document, think about the prompt for a moment, hit the timer and write. One minute is all it takes to get the creative juices flowing. I plan to include The One-Minute Writer in my lesson plans for the coming school year.

The Friday Clive

2011-07-08T04:23:00.000-07:00

(Ah, Clive...I have missed you!)

The first thing, when one is being worried as to whether one will have to have an operation or whether one is a literary failure, is to assume absolutely mercilessly that the worst is true, and to ask What Then? If it turns out in the end that the worst is not true, so much the better: but for the meantime the question must be resolutely put out of mind. Otherwise your thoughts merely go round and round a wearisome circle, now hopeful, now despondent, then hopeful again - that way madness lies. Having settled then that the worst is true, one can proceed to consider the situation.

From The Letters of C.S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves
but found, as usual, in:

Just yesterday

2011-07-07T13:59:00.000-07:00

Twenty-six years ago today, we had our first date, and the following June, we stood before family and friends and promised to be husband and wife. I will never post our vows; they were way too long, totally unrealistic, and a little silly. We both wish someone had said, "You'll regret this!" but we probably would not have listened to them any way.

June 28, 1986

Palo Alto, California

Amidst the vows, the tuxedo mistakes, the broken hurricane lamps, and the blistering heat, we have incredibly fond memories of that day. It was filled with friends and family, dancing and singing, lace and beautiful flowers, love and celebration.

June 28, 2011

Calistoga, California

Marrying this man is the best thing I have ever done.

Here's to the next twenty-five years.

Hot summer nights

2011-07-06T11:21:00.000-07:00

Because sometimes a little umbrella helps.

See you in July....

2011-06-10T10:16:00.000-07:00

Thoughts are stuck in my head and need sorting out.

Work, both paid and unpaid, needs long days to get done.

Beautiful faces are calling me to visit, to do yoga (yoga!), to work through life together.

June is full.

I'll see you in July.

Summer

2011-06-08T12:51:00.000-07:00

Summer means....

blooms and greens in the yard....

fun being planned.....

after the hard work is done....

and good-byes being said...

Off to Idaho for the summer

Ready or not, change is here!

Band mom report: Season of Transit does it again

2011-06-01T04:55:00.000-07:00

We had a blast listening to Season of Transit last Saturday night.

They have another gig on Saturday, and if I could be in two places at once, that is where I would want to be.

Season of Transit

It was a great night.