The novel is “…a perpetual quest for reality..." Lionel Trilling, Literary Critic.
That phrase, "...a perpetual quest for reality, grabbed my attention. At first it tickled me, but then I found it disconcerting. Gosh, I pick up a novel to escape reality.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Happy St. Patrick's Day
I know it's St. Pat's Day because we've got snow to prove it. It's not green, but it's coming down steady just as expected mid-March in these here parts. I almost put away my skis this week, then remembered, March 17 is yet to come. But, not to fret! It's winter's last (hope, hope) hurray -- the St. Patrick's Day snow.
It's not terribly cold outside, but cold enough, and the snow is perfect to ski. So out I went to commune with nature before getting dressed up and heading off to commune with others inside a delightfully warm old-fashioned church building. And in both places, indoors and out, alone or with people, there is God.
The snow is still falling and collecting on tree branches, the walkway, the cars. It's beautiful and I wish to be content, though I'm wrinkling my nose at the thought of brushing off the car and driving in snow. That's what Tom would be doing if he weren't at work this weekend, putting on the banquet portion of his school's annual Broadway Dinners, a thirty year tradition I believe. This spectacular dinner show raises funds for the excellent music program at General McLane. Hugely supported by school district and community, Broadway Dinners outgrew the school facilities several years ago. The current venue is just down the road from school, which entails trucking place settings and cooked food in vans back and forth with the help of lots of volunteers. It's quite the undertaking, and my husband comes home exhausted but pleased with a job well done. (He really is a man of many talents.) Meanwhile the church who gives up her facilities for the long weekend sets up to worship elsewhere. A testimony to the support this school district gets from the community!
It's not terribly cold outside, but cold enough, and the snow is perfect to ski. So out I went to commune with nature before getting dressed up and heading off to commune with others inside a delightfully warm old-fashioned church building. And in both places, indoors and out, alone or with people, there is God.
The snow is still falling and collecting on tree branches, the walkway, the cars. It's beautiful and I wish to be content, though I'm wrinkling my nose at the thought of brushing off the car and driving in snow. That's what Tom would be doing if he weren't at work this weekend, putting on the banquet portion of his school's annual Broadway Dinners, a thirty year tradition I believe. This spectacular dinner show raises funds for the excellent music program at General McLane. Hugely supported by school district and community, Broadway Dinners outgrew the school facilities several years ago. The current venue is just down the road from school, which entails trucking place settings and cooked food in vans back and forth with the help of lots of volunteers. It's quite the undertaking, and my husband comes home exhausted but pleased with a job well done. (He really is a man of many talents.) Meanwhile the church who gives up her facilities for the long weekend sets up to worship elsewhere. A testimony to the support this school district gets from the community!
Is that a rabbit foot? Or am I just thinking rabbit because I went off on a trail. No matter. I must go clear off the car and head to church. I'm always running out of time, but here's my spin...I'm making the most of every minute. Believe that and I'll tell you another!
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
A Dusting of Snow
Question, who swats at a wasp while holding a full cup of steaming coffee? That would be me. Coffee cup in left hand, I pick up the fly swatter with my right, slip off the chair and away from my computer (belatedly thanking God for little bits of good sense), and then identify the freaky buzzing around the light above my head. Yep it's a wasp, so I take a swipe at it, only making it mad. Whoa, coming at me. Boom, boom, boom goes my heart, and my arm pits prickle. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh goes the swatter. Slosh, slosh, slosh goes the coffee, until I hear the little click indicating I connected with the scary little beast. Oh dear. I apologize to the wounded little fella as he limps off; he probably wasn't going to hurt me anyway. Only then am I aware of coffee slopped on my hand, splattered on pajamas and carpet, begging the question above. Who swats a wasp with a cup of coffee in hand? Really. Who does that?
Lucky for me the carpet up here in the loft is tight looped varigated shades of tan. I scrubbed it up, no one will notice once it's dry. But the coffee smell lingers...on my sleeves. Nothing the washing machine can't help me with. Now, let's see. I had something profound to blog about. I wonder what it was? No matter now, time's up.
RIP Mr. Wasp.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Off to Church
While God is our strong tower, church is our earthly fortress. I hope you have a place of refuge, a place that welcomes you, where you feel buoyed, protected and safe. May our churches inspire us toward love and good deeds, and lead us to stand against injustice.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Happy Birthday (Long Gone) Erma Bombeck
Surely Erma is -in her own way- resting in peace. But I believe that means she's yucking it up in heaven. In the event all her talent wasn't spent here on earth, she's probably using it still, causing the celestial beings to double over in laughter, then in the next moment, pause, and shed a tear.
My mother loved Erma's humor and her books...which could be found on the coffee table, an end table, kitchen counter, buffet, or any other flat surface in our house. And so -- I was introduced to Erma. How could I resist a book titled, If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits? when I was meant to be dusting? And I confess, instead of scrubbing a tub or shining the bathroom sink I'd sit on the floor and page through The Grass is Always Greener Above the Septic Tank. Feel good stuff, entertaining, funny, poignant -- packed with wisdom and encouragement. To this day I wish I could write like Erma Bombeck. In lieu of that I'll settle for reading. I just got Motherhood, the Second Oldest Profession from the library. With chapter titles that begin, "What kind of mother would..." followed by things like "tip the tooth fairy?", and other such nonsense, I wanted to read it again. This one caught my eye and my heart: "What kind of mother would... die and not take you with her?"
So in honor of her birthday, and she died way too young you know, I'll take the day off (despite just returning from a week long vacation in Florida!) and I'll read a little Erma. Okay, I'll read a lot of Erma and maybe some other stuff too. No shame. No guilt. Because I know Erma would approve. And you know what, so would my mother.
A bit of Erma's own writing:
Among, her many writings was this column that still continues to make its way around the internet.
“Someone asked me the other day if I had my life to live over would I change anything. My answer was no, but then I thought about it and changed my mind.
If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy and complaining about the shadow over my feet, I’d have cherished every minute of it and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was to be my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the “good” living room and worried less about the dirt when you lit the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have burned the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored.
I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and never worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television; and more while watching real life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband which I took for granted.
I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the Earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical; wouldn’t show soil; or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more I love yous, more I’m sorrys, more I’m listenings, but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it, look at it and really see it, try it on, live it, exhaust it, and never give a minute back until there was nothing left of it.”
From mysendoff.com -- click to read more.
My mother loved Erma's humor and her books...which could be found on the coffee table, an end table, kitchen counter, buffet, or any other flat surface in our house. And so -- I was introduced to Erma. How could I resist a book titled, If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits? when I was meant to be dusting? And I confess, instead of scrubbing a tub or shining the bathroom sink I'd sit on the floor and page through The Grass is Always Greener Above the Septic Tank. Feel good stuff, entertaining, funny, poignant -- packed with wisdom and encouragement. To this day I wish I could write like Erma Bombeck. In lieu of that I'll settle for reading. I just got Motherhood, the Second Oldest Profession from the library. With chapter titles that begin, "What kind of mother would..." followed by things like "tip the tooth fairy?", and other such nonsense, I wanted to read it again. This one caught my eye and my heart: "What kind of mother would... die and not take you with her?"
So in honor of her birthday, and she died way too young you know, I'll take the day off (despite just returning from a week long vacation in Florida!) and I'll read a little Erma. Okay, I'll read a lot of Erma and maybe some other stuff too. No shame. No guilt. Because I know Erma would approve. And you know what, so would my mother.
A bit of Erma's own writing:
Among, her many writings was this column that still continues to make its way around the internet.
“Someone asked me the other day if I had my life to live over would I change anything. My answer was no, but then I thought about it and changed my mind.
If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy and complaining about the shadow over my feet, I’d have cherished every minute of it and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was to be my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the “good” living room and worried less about the dirt when you lit the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have burned the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored.
I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and never worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television; and more while watching real life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband which I took for granted.
I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the Earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical; wouldn’t show soil; or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more I love yous, more I’m sorrys, more I’m listenings, but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it, look at it and really see it, try it on, live it, exhaust it, and never give a minute back until there was nothing left of it.”
From mysendoff.com -- click to read more.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Sunny Sunday
We had sunshine two days in a row and it was glorious! I say 'was' because I'm looking out my window at gray skies now...but it's okay. I knew it wouldn't last, so I let what there was of it soak deep into my soul. I skied around the back field first thing this morning (and by first thing, I mean 8:30ish -- I'm still not a morning person. Big sigh). All the tree branches were frosted over and the crusty snow sparkled...as if multi-colored glitter fell from the sky, sprinkled all around. That was all the mood enhancer I needed: exercise, cold, clean, fresh air, stunning scenery, and sunshine.
Then off to church where we started our worship, as usual, "Almighty God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you and worthily magnify your holy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
You know, that's the greatest commandment...to perfectly love God. To love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. I think I'll work on that this week. And if I get anywhere near good at it, I'll move on to loving my neighbors. All of them. No matter what they look like, who they are, or whatever disguise they wear.
Wishing for all of us, peace, love, joy... and sunshine.
Then off to church where we started our worship, as usual, "Almighty God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you and worthily magnify your holy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
You know, that's the greatest commandment...to perfectly love God. To love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. I think I'll work on that this week. And if I get anywhere near good at it, I'll move on to loving my neighbors. All of them. No matter what they look like, who they are, or whatever disguise they wear.
Wishing for all of us, peace, love, joy... and sunshine.
Monday, January 28, 2013
The Wee Hours
I couldn't sleep...might have been the coffee at 8 pm. I haven't been drinking high test lately so my caffeine tolerance may be lower. Or, maybe it's just that I have a lot on my mind. If anything, on nights like this, that's what keeps me from drifting off. It doesn't happen often and the cause doesn't have to be difficult stressful thoughts.
Tonight, for instance, I'm reliving Sunday morning's worship service. The liturgy at our new church is finally growing familiar -- familiar enough to rehearse it. It's becoming part of me, and I don't have to work so hard to follow along. The words and tunes flow from my heart as well as my voice, from memory, at last.
There are no contemporary choruses and very few familiar hymns. Collectively we recite prayers that I haven't prayed in church for years, confessions of sin, confessions of faith, creeds, and the Lord's Prayer. At least four sections of scripture are read, and communion is celebrated each and every week. This weekly communing with God, alongside fellow believers, is good for my soul, just like the balm of Gilead, soothing, healing, refreshing.
But reviewing it, recalling and reveling in it, is not at all...sleep inducing.
Quietly, in soft, cozy pajamas, slippered feet, and big fuzzy robe I trekked downstairs to make a cup of cocoa. On my way to the kitchen, before the light was turned on, I could see outside. Three big dark shapes against the white bright snow, deer frolicking on the front lawn. A beautiful sight in the moonlight. Worth the inconvenience of insomnia, seeing creatures of the night enjoying their wakeful time. Perfectly natural for them, not so natural for me. I sip hot cocoa and watch them until a yawn sneaks up on me. This is a good time to return to my snugly warm bed and be grateful for it. So very glad to crawl between flannel sheets and not to be bedding down in snow.
Tonight, for instance, I'm reliving Sunday morning's worship service. The liturgy at our new church is finally growing familiar -- familiar enough to rehearse it. It's becoming part of me, and I don't have to work so hard to follow along. The words and tunes flow from my heart as well as my voice, from memory, at last.
There are no contemporary choruses and very few familiar hymns. Collectively we recite prayers that I haven't prayed in church for years, confessions of sin, confessions of faith, creeds, and the Lord's Prayer. At least four sections of scripture are read, and communion is celebrated each and every week. This weekly communing with God, alongside fellow believers, is good for my soul, just like the balm of Gilead, soothing, healing, refreshing.
But reviewing it, recalling and reveling in it, is not at all...sleep inducing.
Quietly, in soft, cozy pajamas, slippered feet, and big fuzzy robe I trekked downstairs to make a cup of cocoa. On my way to the kitchen, before the light was turned on, I could see outside. Three big dark shapes against the white bright snow, deer frolicking on the front lawn. A beautiful sight in the moonlight. Worth the inconvenience of insomnia, seeing creatures of the night enjoying their wakeful time. Perfectly natural for them, not so natural for me. I sip hot cocoa and watch them until a yawn sneaks up on me. This is a good time to return to my snugly warm bed and be grateful for it. So very glad to crawl between flannel sheets and not to be bedding down in snow.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Watching the Inauguration
No words, so I'll share the words of Zack Hunt at his blog The American Jesus
And if you're struggling with all of the goings on take some advice from Rachel Held Evans
#6 was particularly helpful to me (I say with a smile and a wink)
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Break the Hate
First, recognize the Hate.
So easy to see in others. So easy to see directed at others.
So easy to justify, rationalize, defend...in me.
Impossible to break without recognizing -- Hate.
What is Hate? The opposite of Love?
Love is patient. Love is kind.
There is no room to be envious or boastful when you love.
Love is not rude and doesn't insist on its own way. Rather than demanding rights, it looks out for the rights of others.
Love is not irritable and resentful.
Love is never happy to see wrong or participate in wrong, instead it is overjoyed with what is good and true and pure and right.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love bears all things, believes all things and is full of hope.
Love endures all things.
Love never ends...once grasped, it becomes part of us and it will not leave us.
As for hate, not so. Hate can be smothered by love, done away with. Hate can be broken down, broken to pieces and swept away.
I'm counting on it.
I have a long way to go. I cannot yet admit that I hate. But I do. I hate injustice...which is so very noble of me. It's a virtue. But my virtue is my vice. Hating injustice and unjust behavior translates to hating people who are unjust, hating the bigots: racists, religious extremists, hypocrites, dogmatists, legalists, chauvinists, homophobes, political fanatics, who are terrorists in their own right.
I hate people who hate people.
And there I am -- grouped alongside them.
First I have to recognize it.
So easy to see in others.
So easy to justify in myself.
Dear God, it's time to break the hate. Starting with the hate in me.
So easy to see in others. So easy to see directed at others.
So easy to justify, rationalize, defend...in me.
Impossible to break without recognizing -- Hate.
What is Hate? The opposite of Love?
Love is patient. Love is kind.
There is no room to be envious or boastful when you love.
Love is not rude and doesn't insist on its own way. Rather than demanding rights, it looks out for the rights of others.
Love is not irritable and resentful.
Love is never happy to see wrong or participate in wrong, instead it is overjoyed with what is good and true and pure and right.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love bears all things, believes all things and is full of hope.
Love endures all things.
Love never ends...once grasped, it becomes part of us and it will not leave us.
As for hate, not so. Hate can be smothered by love, done away with. Hate can be broken down, broken to pieces and swept away.
I'm counting on it.
I have a long way to go. I cannot yet admit that I hate. But I do. I hate injustice...which is so very noble of me. It's a virtue. But my virtue is my vice. Hating injustice and unjust behavior translates to hating people who are unjust, hating the bigots: racists, religious extremists, hypocrites, dogmatists, legalists, chauvinists, homophobes, political fanatics, who are terrorists in their own right.
I hate people who hate people.
And there I am -- grouped alongside them.
First I have to recognize it.
So easy to see in others.
So easy to justify in myself.
Dear God, it's time to break the hate. Starting with the hate in me.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Guilt, Shame and New Year's Resolutions
New Year's Resolution # 1 -- Blog more often. FAIL TRY AGAIN
New Year's Resolution #2 -- Read my Bible everyday.FAIL TRY AGAIN
New Year's Resolution #3 -- Exercise.FAIL TRY AGAIN
New Year's Resolution #4 -- Eat better.FAIL TRY AGAIN
ENOUGH! Oh the shame of it all. I didn't expect to start the new year under-the-weather. When I woke each morning of January after a rotten night's sleep, I did not reach for my Bible. Instead I reached for a tissue and some ibuprophen. I didn't bound downstairs, fire up my computer to write a blog, or strap on my skis for a glide around the back field. I sure didn't fix a steaming bowl of oatmeal with walnuts and raisins. Instead I stood in a hot steamy shower and then collapsed on the couch -- calling it a day before even starting my day.
And suddenly, the calendar says 7 days of January have passed. Sheesh.
Feeling better now. Took down the Christmas decorations...well, 1/2 of the decorations. Packed for a trip to Arizona. Checked the weather in Phoenix. The forecaste is 70 degrees, which sounds absolutely glorious. So good that I'm sure to get back on track with those darn resolutions.
I've been inspired to make one more resolution -- more important than the others. I want to use Scripture, apply it to my life to change me. I don't want to use it to judge others. Pfffft...that's so easy and natural. And I swear,people think they are I think I am being a better Christian by showing off how well versed and knowledgable they are I am by juding everyone else's sins. I've been asking myself as I come to the end of reading through the entire Bible last year (another failed resolution, but hey, I might nail it by February 2013), what is the purpose of God's written down words?
I believe it's to show us how awesome and mighty He is... and that we simply don't measure up. Try as we may, even the best of us isn't good enough. Only God is good. But for some reason, known only to Him, he loves us and wants us to love him, so he made a way. The point of the Bible is to show us it's not by our works, it's by His grace that we are saved. Does the Bible tell us how we should then live? Yes it does. It says Love one another as I have loved you. It says Don't judge. It says Repent. It says Rejoice and be glad. It says Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. It says You can't do any of that on your own strength, but be of good cheer, Jesus came to make a way, and with Him, through Him, in Him all things are possible. We can do all things through Him.
Trusting in that, my new New Year's resolution is to not judge anyone other than myself. Not shame anyone (even myself), but humbly walk with God. He has shown us the way to please Him (Micah 6:8): love mercy, act justly, and walk humbly with your God (i.e. follow his example).
I can do that. It may take a little reminding, a bit of chastising, and even a little guilt, but I can do that. Not on my own of course, but with His help, I can do that. And when I FAIL I'll just hit the strike through and change it to TRY AGAIN. He just keeps giving me do-overs and second chances. What a God he is!
New Year's Resolution #2 -- Read my Bible everyday.
New Year's Resolution #3 -- Exercise.
New Year's Resolution #4 -- Eat better.
ENOUGH! Oh the shame of it all. I didn't expect to start the new year under-the-weather. When I woke each morning of January after a rotten night's sleep, I did not reach for my Bible. Instead I reached for a tissue and some ibuprophen. I didn't bound downstairs, fire up my computer to write a blog, or strap on my skis for a glide around the back field. I sure didn't fix a steaming bowl of oatmeal with walnuts and raisins. Instead I stood in a hot steamy shower and then collapsed on the couch -- calling it a day before even starting my day.
And suddenly, the calendar says 7 days of January have passed. Sheesh.
Feeling better now. Took down the Christmas decorations...well, 1/2 of the decorations. Packed for a trip to Arizona. Checked the weather in Phoenix. The forecaste is 70 degrees, which sounds absolutely glorious. So good that I'm sure to get back on track with those darn resolutions.
I've been inspired to make one more resolution -- more important than the others. I want to use Scripture, apply it to my life to change me. I don't want to use it to judge others. Pfffft...that's so easy and natural. And I swear,
I believe it's to show us how awesome and mighty He is... and that we simply don't measure up. Try as we may, even the best of us isn't good enough. Only God is good. But for some reason, known only to Him, he loves us and wants us to love him, so he made a way. The point of the Bible is to show us it's not by our works, it's by His grace that we are saved. Does the Bible tell us how we should then live? Yes it does. It says Love one another as I have loved you. It says Don't judge. It says Repent. It says Rejoice and be glad. It says Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. It says You can't do any of that on your own strength, but be of good cheer, Jesus came to make a way, and with Him, through Him, in Him all things are possible. We can do all things through Him.
Trusting in that, my new New Year's resolution is to not judge anyone other than myself. Not shame anyone (even myself), but humbly walk with God. He has shown us the way to please Him (Micah 6:8): love mercy, act justly, and walk humbly with your God (i.e. follow his example).
I can do that. It may take a little reminding, a bit of chastising, and even a little guilt, but I can do that. Not on my own of course, but with His help, I can do that. And when I FAIL I'll just hit the strike through and change it to TRY AGAIN. He just keeps giving me do-overs and second chances. What a God he is!
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