Sunday, July 09, 2006
Even Mountain Girls Long for the Ocean Sometimes
In spite of the fact that I "should spend my summer in the mountains" (see silly quiz I posted earlier this month) I'm actually finding myself longing for the seashore a lot this summer. I think because it's been so long since I've been to the ocean and because the Boop has never seen the sea...and boy, does she want to!
We've been reading some stories by one of her all-time favorite authors, Shirley Hughes, and in at least two of the stories we've read over and over this week, Alfie and his little sister Annie Rose go to the beach. Yesterday my sweet girl got out a blanket and lots of plastic play food (along with her fabric rings and some colorful sponges) and set a feast for her bears in our living room. When I asked what she was doing, she announced "having a picnic at the beach!" Hmm. Well, the carpet is sand colored anyway! When she was done, she packed everything up again in her little doll stroller and a backpack and headed "home" with her furry family -- home being her bedroom.
A picnic at the beach sounded like a great idea to me too, and since we couldn't really get there any other way, taking the imaginative route was a terrific idea. It was a perfect time to bring out a book about another family that had to imagine the seaside too. So we read Charlotte Zolotow's The Seashore Book (see above!) a wonderful story about a little boy who's never seen the ocean, but who goes there by closing his eyes and listening to the beautiful word pictures painted by his mother.
We also made a yummy summer drink. We call it peppermint/apple/lemon drink; I adapted it from a recipe my sister Martha gave me years ago. All you need to do is boil 2 - 2 1/2 cups of water, and then steep a peppermint tea bag or two for a few minutes (how many bags and how long you steep can be adjusted to make peppermint as strong or weak as you'd like). Then add about 1 1/2 - 2 cups of apple juice (I used juicy juice, but any 100% juice or fresh juice should work fine). Finally, add a bit of lemon juice, again adjusted to your taste. I added about a tablespoon. Add ice and you've got a really delicious and not too sweet summer cooler. We liked it so much yesterday we made it again today!
Saturday, July 08, 2006
The Odds On Harry
There's been a sudden flurry of renewed media interest in Harry Potter book 7, still being written by author JK Rowling. That's because JKR gave one of her very rare interviews recently, in which she let "drop" a couple of statements about the possible fate of some unnamed characters.
I put "drop" in quotes because JKR, for my money, is one of the most careful and cagey interviewees I've ever seen. She's known for years the shape and ultimate direction of her story, and since the books have become such a publishing phenomenon, with thousands of people speculating on what she's going to do next and what will happen to their favorite characters, she's had to really hug the major plot points close to her chest. She's *good* at that, and I admire her for it because it shows how much she cares about her story. She's also savvy enough to know that fueling speculation from time to time just peaks our interest. But she's not, repeat not, going to give away anything major or anything that we couldn't have perhaps already guessed.
So it's amusing to see the brouhaha that often results from some of her simple statements. People can spin them all kinds of ways. One often quoted exchange from the recent interview is this:
and then there was this:
The furor over these quotes seems to come from (A) people being worried because she said two characters will die in book 7 and (B) people thinking perhaps there was a slight slip of the tongue or that she said more than she intended in the "I've never been tempted to kill him off before the end of book 7" line.
Let's look at those in reverse order for a moment, because I think the first one is more interesting.
The "I've never been tempted" quote comes in the context of that long rambling exchange when the interviewer is pushing her on whether or not she's ever been tempted to do Harry in simply because she's tired of writing the character or stories. Rowling charitably goes where the interviewer wants to go here, but it seems pretty clear that she simply means to say that she never would have killed Harry off on a whim. She planned seven stories, and seven stories she will write, no more, no less. She's been clear about that in other interviews. If he dies, and that's still a big if, it will not be until the end and the final confrontation, no sooner. I think it's clear she has some sympathy for other authors who have decided to kill off main characters to stave off unauthorized sequels, but can we really believe that a woman who has so carefully crafted, plotted, themed and envisioned a sub-ceation of these proportions would suddenly decide to kill the hero if she hadn't planned to all along, just to safeguard her literary creation for posterity?! Especially considering she's given tacit approval to thousands of fan-fiction stories about him already. Come on! Let's be honest. Whatever Harry's destiny is, Jo Rowling decided it long, long ago and (here's the important part) it has shaped every bit of the narrative that precedes it. The Harry Potter sories are grand stories, and teleologically shaped.
Now, having said that, I'm going to go out on a limb and say the most interesting part of the interview was that she said two characters that she had not intended to kill (and not just any two characters, but two "main" characters) have died thus far in the writing of the book 7. The fact that at least two characters are going to die is not gasp-worthy in and of itself, considering the wizarding world is now in an all-out war against Voldemort and his minions. But it is interesting to note that two characters have died that Rowling herself did not expect to kill off, and "one got a reprieve." Hmm. Even more interesting.
I think this says volumes about Rowling's artistry and creativity. She has set herself firm limits as to the ultimate scope and shape of her story, but within those limits, she is writing freely and still exploring where the narrative wants to go. She is still choosing among the smaller "what ifs" even with the grand finale in view. That's exciting. Like "fireworks in your pocket" (as a professor of mine once described the dance of freedom/limits when writing traditional poetic forms). What this tells us is that the story's very much still in process, a living, breathing story whose rich depths and implications are still being played out in the fertile imagination of its author. Wow! Book 7 is going to be stunning.
Of course newspapers and magazines have picked up on the various quotes and have begun running odds on who's going to die. I opened this week's copy of *Entertainment Weekly* to find the headline "Will Harry Potter Die?" imposed over a picture of movie-Harry leaping from the unseen clutches of the Hungarian Horntail. The story speculated on which characters might or might not die, and gave some rather brief and lame reasons for its conclusions. In case you're curious, they gave Voldemort even odds and the odds on Harry are 9-2. (More evidence of her artistry --that we're still this unsure this late in the game!) Hagrid's 3-2, Ginny's 6-1, Snape is 2-1 (though I was surprised they thought he would die a martyr on the right side; I wasn't sure that idea had caught on in mainstream media); Ron 20-1, and Hermione 50-1. Frankly, I think they missed a whole plethora of just as likely possibilities, all of whom could be considered "main" characters in some sense. Let's not forget the rest of the Weasleys (Percy, anyone?), Peter Pettigrew, Draco Malfoy and Remus Lupin, just for starters.
And let's not forget that Harry DID survive that Hungarian Horntail. He's "the boy who lived," you know. It was the title of the very first chapter in the very first book. Wouldn't it be a wonderful title for the last chapter too?
More thoughts on Harry soon!
I put "drop" in quotes because JKR, for my money, is one of the most careful and cagey interviewees I've ever seen. She's known for years the shape and ultimate direction of her story, and since the books have become such a publishing phenomenon, with thousands of people speculating on what she's going to do next and what will happen to their favorite characters, she's had to really hug the major plot points close to her chest. She's *good* at that, and I admire her for it because it shows how much she cares about her story. She's also savvy enough to know that fueling speculation from time to time just peaks our interest. But she's not, repeat not, going to give away anything major or anything that we couldn't have perhaps already guessed.
So it's amusing to see the brouhaha that often results from some of her simple statements. People can spin them all kinds of ways. One often quoted exchange from the recent interview is this:
Jo: The final chapter is hidden away, although it has now changed very sightly. One character got a reprieve, but I have to say two die that I didn't intend to die ...
Judy: Two much loved ones?
Jo: Well, you know. A price has to be paid. We are dealing with pure evil. They don't target the extras do they? They go for the main characters, or I do.
and then there was this:
Richard: I was dodging around the death bit, because I know you can't answer that queestion, But you know how Conan-Doyle got sick up to there of Sherlock Holmes ...
Jo: Yeah
Richard: so pushed him off the cliff at the Reichenbech falls, I'm not asking if you have done that obviously, but have you ever been tempted to bump him off because it is such a huge thing in your life.
Jo: I've never been tempted to kill him off before the end of book 7. I have always planned seven books and that is where I want to go, where I want to finish on seven books. But I can completely understand the mentality of an author who thinks well I am going to kill them off because that means there can be no non-author written sequels as they call them, so it will end with me and after I am dead and gone, they would not be able to bring back the character and write a load of ...
Richard: That never struck me before. I thought it would free you up.
Jo: Agatha Christe did that with Poirot, didn't she, she wanted to finish him off herself.
The furor over these quotes seems to come from (A) people being worried because she said two characters will die in book 7 and (B) people thinking perhaps there was a slight slip of the tongue or that she said more than she intended in the "I've never been tempted to kill him off before the end of book 7" line.
Let's look at those in reverse order for a moment, because I think the first one is more interesting.
The "I've never been tempted" quote comes in the context of that long rambling exchange when the interviewer is pushing her on whether or not she's ever been tempted to do Harry in simply because she's tired of writing the character or stories. Rowling charitably goes where the interviewer wants to go here, but it seems pretty clear that she simply means to say that she never would have killed Harry off on a whim. She planned seven stories, and seven stories she will write, no more, no less. She's been clear about that in other interviews. If he dies, and that's still a big if, it will not be until the end and the final confrontation, no sooner. I think it's clear she has some sympathy for other authors who have decided to kill off main characters to stave off unauthorized sequels, but can we really believe that a woman who has so carefully crafted, plotted, themed and envisioned a sub-ceation of these proportions would suddenly decide to kill the hero if she hadn't planned to all along, just to safeguard her literary creation for posterity?! Especially considering she's given tacit approval to thousands of fan-fiction stories about him already. Come on! Let's be honest. Whatever Harry's destiny is, Jo Rowling decided it long, long ago and (here's the important part) it has shaped every bit of the narrative that precedes it. The Harry Potter sories are grand stories, and teleologically shaped.
Now, having said that, I'm going to go out on a limb and say the most interesting part of the interview was that she said two characters that she had not intended to kill (and not just any two characters, but two "main" characters) have died thus far in the writing of the book 7. The fact that at least two characters are going to die is not gasp-worthy in and of itself, considering the wizarding world is now in an all-out war against Voldemort and his minions. But it is interesting to note that two characters have died that Rowling herself did not expect to kill off, and "one got a reprieve." Hmm. Even more interesting.
I think this says volumes about Rowling's artistry and creativity. She has set herself firm limits as to the ultimate scope and shape of her story, but within those limits, she is writing freely and still exploring where the narrative wants to go. She is still choosing among the smaller "what ifs" even with the grand finale in view. That's exciting. Like "fireworks in your pocket" (as a professor of mine once described the dance of freedom/limits when writing traditional poetic forms). What this tells us is that the story's very much still in process, a living, breathing story whose rich depths and implications are still being played out in the fertile imagination of its author. Wow! Book 7 is going to be stunning.
Of course newspapers and magazines have picked up on the various quotes and have begun running odds on who's going to die. I opened this week's copy of *Entertainment Weekly* to find the headline "Will Harry Potter Die?" imposed over a picture of movie-Harry leaping from the unseen clutches of the Hungarian Horntail. The story speculated on which characters might or might not die, and gave some rather brief and lame reasons for its conclusions. In case you're curious, they gave Voldemort even odds and the odds on Harry are 9-2. (More evidence of her artistry --that we're still this unsure this late in the game!) Hagrid's 3-2, Ginny's 6-1, Snape is 2-1 (though I was surprised they thought he would die a martyr on the right side; I wasn't sure that idea had caught on in mainstream media); Ron 20-1, and Hermione 50-1. Frankly, I think they missed a whole plethora of just as likely possibilities, all of whom could be considered "main" characters in some sense. Let's not forget the rest of the Weasleys (Percy, anyone?), Peter Pettigrew, Draco Malfoy and Remus Lupin, just for starters.
And let's not forget that Harry DID survive that Hungarian Horntail. He's "the boy who lived," you know. It was the title of the very first chapter in the very first book. Wouldn't it be a wonderful title for the last chapter too?
More thoughts on Harry soon!
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Anthropology, Not Theology
I'm still reading blogs and articles on the recent General Convention of the Episcopal Church, and the continuing "sorting out" that the Anglican communion is doing in light of recent actions and inactions of the American church. I'm doing this in part because I want to, and in part because I need to... I'm teaching the course on Episcopal Ethos again this fall and need to be very clear in my thoughts on the present crisis. Not always easy in the midst of a very busy season of life, and lately it seems like all seasons are busy!
Anyway, be all that as it may, I just read one of the shortest and most helpful summations of the problem of the theological crisis in the church. This is from the blog of Fleming Rutledge, Episcopal priest and well-known author. She writes:
"Never has it been more obvious that the ruling theology of ECUSA is not theology at all, but anthropology. We are going to build the reign of God. We are going to develop relationships. We are waging reconciliation. We are admiring the creation (which apparently is not fallen or in need of redemption). There is no room here for God to do anything."
Note: she emphasizes the word "we" in italics at the beginning of each sentence, to drive the point home. For some reason I can't get html tags to work in this post, or I would have copied it exactly.
Of course by that last comment she doesn't mean, I don't think, that God cannot work where ever he so chooses to work (even in places where it may seem impossible to us!). What I hear her say is that the leadership of the church is not really leaving much of a place for God to do anything, nor do they see much of a need for God to do anything, either because they think everything's all right or because they're handling things just fine on their own, thanks. Perhaps not surprising that contemporary cisis of theology in the anglican tradition was born from the ashes of deism.
Reminds me of that wonderful poem by Sir Thomas Browne:
"If thou coulds't empty all thy self of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
And say, "This is not dead,"
And fill thee with Himself instead.
But thou are all replete with very thou
And hast such shrewd activity,
That when He comes He says, "This is enow
Unto itself -- 'twere better let it be,
It is so small and full, there is no room for me."
********
Importantly, Rutledge also adds "The traditionalists/orthodox/evangelicals -- or whatever we are -- are in grave danger of falling into the same modes of labeling, sneering, dismissing, demonizing and so forth as the theological liberals, if indeed we have not already done so in a manner fatal to our committments."
On that last, I have to say several things: I'm grateful for the admonition which I think we need to heed; I'm prayerful that it will not be so (please Lord, don't let it be so); and I'm wondering what she's seen or heard that makes her sound so grave toward the end of the statement. Much of what I have read from orthodox anglican evangelicals in recent weeks has been humble, sound and charitable -- though I've been trying to stay with blogs and articles of people I know and trust at least by reputation.
I just pray that we will not be "replete with very thou." Stuffed with self is the the way I often think of it, and in this time of painful and necessary change in the communion, I pray that we won't be. May we leave room for God to do what He needs to do -- indeed that we will realize that only God can do what needs to be done, through us, around us, even in spite of us -- to bring about his glorious kingdom purposes in the church and in the world.
Anyway, be all that as it may, I just read one of the shortest and most helpful summations of the problem of the theological crisis in the church. This is from the blog of Fleming Rutledge, Episcopal priest and well-known author. She writes:
"Never has it been more obvious that the ruling theology of ECUSA is not theology at all, but anthropology. We are going to build the reign of God. We are going to develop relationships. We are waging reconciliation. We are admiring the creation (which apparently is not fallen or in need of redemption). There is no room here for God to do anything."
Note: she emphasizes the word "we" in italics at the beginning of each sentence, to drive the point home. For some reason I can't get html tags to work in this post, or I would have copied it exactly.
Of course by that last comment she doesn't mean, I don't think, that God cannot work where ever he so chooses to work (even in places where it may seem impossible to us!). What I hear her say is that the leadership of the church is not really leaving much of a place for God to do anything, nor do they see much of a need for God to do anything, either because they think everything's all right or because they're handling things just fine on their own, thanks. Perhaps not surprising that contemporary cisis of theology in the anglican tradition was born from the ashes of deism.
Reminds me of that wonderful poem by Sir Thomas Browne:
"If thou coulds't empty all thy self of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
And say, "This is not dead,"
And fill thee with Himself instead.
But thou are all replete with very thou
And hast such shrewd activity,
That when He comes He says, "This is enow
Unto itself -- 'twere better let it be,
It is so small and full, there is no room for me."
********
Importantly, Rutledge also adds "The traditionalists/orthodox/evangelicals -- or whatever we are -- are in grave danger of falling into the same modes of labeling, sneering, dismissing, demonizing and so forth as the theological liberals, if indeed we have not already done so in a manner fatal to our committments."
On that last, I have to say several things: I'm grateful for the admonition which I think we need to heed; I'm prayerful that it will not be so (please Lord, don't let it be so); and I'm wondering what she's seen or heard that makes her sound so grave toward the end of the statement. Much of what I have read from orthodox anglican evangelicals in recent weeks has been humble, sound and charitable -- though I've been trying to stay with blogs and articles of people I know and trust at least by reputation.
I just pray that we will not be "replete with very thou." Stuffed with self is the the way I often think of it, and in this time of painful and necessary change in the communion, I pray that we won't be. May we leave room for God to do what He needs to do -- indeed that we will realize that only God can do what needs to be done, through us, around us, even in spite of us -- to bring about his glorious kingdom purposes in the church and in the world.
Monday, July 03, 2006
"Idols Can't Answer Our Prayers!"
My dear four year old daughter (I do love saying that!) declared this truth to me last night during family prayers.
We've been working on learning about the ten commandments for the past couple of weeks. It just so happens, in a beautiful bit of unplanned (by us) synchronicity, our family Bible reading during our evening candle-lighting has been focused on the prophets. For several nights in a row we were reading stories about the prophet Elijah and how he told -- and showed! -- bad king Ahab and the prophets of Baal that there is only one true God. Their idols, the little gods they prayed to, couldn't hear them or answer their prayers.
The Boop has really soaked this in, and keeps connecting it to the first two commandments. I think we drew that connection for her originally, but she keeps coming back to it. "The people broke the first two commandments," she keeps saying.
But it was last night that I could tell she was really "getting it." Because when she suddenly crowed out "idols can't answer our prayers!" she actually said it with a chortle and added something giggly along the lines of "they can't hear us!" And I had to laugh along with her. I must add that the laughter felt very biblical. Elijah himself, along with the prophet Isaiah, sees the absurdity of attributing "real" attributes to unreal "gods" made by human hands. They don't have hands or eyes or ears. So when we try to get them to meet our needs, they simply can't. Maybe they went out for a stroll or are taking a nap, Elijah suggests sarcastically, and it's a bit of dark humour, but it's humour nonetheless. No wonder my daughter got the giggles!
Of course it's humour within the context of God's tremendous compassion for his people -- the people of Elijah's day as well as our own -- who persist in making idols, who keep thinking that they (we) can receive guidance, love, hope, fulfilmment, help, from things or people that shouldn't have God's place in our lives. The reason Elijah and Amos and Jeremiah and Isaiah and others kept bellowing, whispering, and singing God's reality into the ears of bad kings and confused false prophets and clueless sinners was because God longed for them to know Him -- know Him as the real and living God who alone made them and who made them for himself, not for some unreal substitute.
We've been working on learning about the ten commandments for the past couple of weeks. It just so happens, in a beautiful bit of unplanned (by us) synchronicity, our family Bible reading during our evening candle-lighting has been focused on the prophets. For several nights in a row we were reading stories about the prophet Elijah and how he told -- and showed! -- bad king Ahab and the prophets of Baal that there is only one true God. Their idols, the little gods they prayed to, couldn't hear them or answer their prayers.
The Boop has really soaked this in, and keeps connecting it to the first two commandments. I think we drew that connection for her originally, but she keeps coming back to it. "The people broke the first two commandments," she keeps saying.
But it was last night that I could tell she was really "getting it." Because when she suddenly crowed out "idols can't answer our prayers!" she actually said it with a chortle and added something giggly along the lines of "they can't hear us!" And I had to laugh along with her. I must add that the laughter felt very biblical. Elijah himself, along with the prophet Isaiah, sees the absurdity of attributing "real" attributes to unreal "gods" made by human hands. They don't have hands or eyes or ears. So when we try to get them to meet our needs, they simply can't. Maybe they went out for a stroll or are taking a nap, Elijah suggests sarcastically, and it's a bit of dark humour, but it's humour nonetheless. No wonder my daughter got the giggles!
Of course it's humour within the context of God's tremendous compassion for his people -- the people of Elijah's day as well as our own -- who persist in making idols, who keep thinking that they (we) can receive guidance, love, hope, fulfilmment, help, from things or people that shouldn't have God's place in our lives. The reason Elijah and Amos and Jeremiah and Isaiah and others kept bellowing, whispering, and singing God's reality into the ears of bad kings and confused false prophets and clueless sinners was because God longed for them to know Him -- know Him as the real and living God who alone made them and who made them for himself, not for some unreal substitute.
Somehow I Knew This Already...
It's late and I'm tired, but I just took one of those lovely, silly quizzes...and for a change, it came out just the way I would have guessed it would!
Ah....wishful thinking!
So where should you spend your summer?
| You Should Spend Your Summer in the Mountains |
 You're quiet, introspective, and a great thinker. You need a summer vacation that gets you away from the crowds and the heat. So retreat to the mountains, where you can clear your head. |
Ah....wishful thinking!
So where should you spend your summer?
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Interesting Publishing Trend
Two interesting and separate stories in Publishers' Weekly "Religion Bookline" this week -- I don't know if two such events could be properly called a "trend" yet, but it seems to be tending that way.
Two excellent Christian publishers, InterVarsity and Baker, have recently announced new publishing ventures aimed toward twenty-somethings. IVP is actually launching a new line called "Likewise," as in "Go then and do likewise." Quote from the publisher: "We are trying to empower this particularly activist generation and age, when people are more inclined to be audacious in their faith, by providing them resources to be thoughtfully active and actively thoughtful." IVP is already actively cultivating writers from this age group to write for this age group.
Baker's going to produce a new series of books in partnership with Emergent Village, appropriately called "Emersion." Quote from PW on the publisher's understanding of the genre: "Baker calls “’the emerging church conversation’ a movement of those seeking to explore new opportunities for Christianity, and how the church will meet the challenges and opportunities of the 21st century.”
Two very good publishers. Important, timely approaches. Exciting generation. Stay tuned for some good reading!
Two excellent Christian publishers, InterVarsity and Baker, have recently announced new publishing ventures aimed toward twenty-somethings. IVP is actually launching a new line called "Likewise," as in "Go then and do likewise." Quote from the publisher: "We are trying to empower this particularly activist generation and age, when people are more inclined to be audacious in their faith, by providing them resources to be thoughtfully active and actively thoughtful." IVP is already actively cultivating writers from this age group to write for this age group.
Baker's going to produce a new series of books in partnership with Emergent Village, appropriately called "Emersion." Quote from PW on the publisher's understanding of the genre: "Baker calls “’the emerging church conversation’ a movement of those seeking to explore new opportunities for Christianity, and how the church will meet the challenges and opportunities of the 21st century.”
Two very good publishers. Important, timely approaches. Exciting generation. Stay tuned for some good reading!
The Booper Girl Tells A Story
We're still recovering from the Booper's fourth birthday this past Tuesday. Yes, my sweet girl is four! So hard to believe, but the evidence is in front of my eyes each day. She is growing and changing so much all the time.
The presents have retained their novelty even after forty-eight hours, but of course almost better than any of the lovely gifts from family and friends are the leftover balloons from the party. At the moment my kitchen floor is covered in about a dozen balloons of various colors and various stages of deflation. She spent part of the early afternoon kicking them, throwing them, and just in general batting them around...all the while chatting about what she was doing.
In fact, she informed me that she wanted to make up a story about playing with the balloons. So of course I encouraged her to go ahead and even said I would write it down as she told it, a suggestion she greeted with great enthusiasm. So without further ado, I present to you "BALLOONS," a story dictated to me by my beautiful four year old daughter. Frankly, I think she's got a great story-telling rhythm. And I'm not biased. Not at all. Really. (Smile.)
*******
One day the balloons bounced so high and she caught one! She caught the balloons and threw them right up in the air! One day a red balloon floated so high and she caught it, and she missed it and she tried to catch it but she didn't catch it because it landed so fast on the floor. One day she threw a pink balloon so high and they bounced so high. One day she had lots and lots of balloons and she tried to catch it but of course she couldn't catch it. It was so big and so fat.
*******
The presents have retained their novelty even after forty-eight hours, but of course almost better than any of the lovely gifts from family and friends are the leftover balloons from the party. At the moment my kitchen floor is covered in about a dozen balloons of various colors and various stages of deflation. She spent part of the early afternoon kicking them, throwing them, and just in general batting them around...all the while chatting about what she was doing.
In fact, she informed me that she wanted to make up a story about playing with the balloons. So of course I encouraged her to go ahead and even said I would write it down as she told it, a suggestion she greeted with great enthusiasm. So without further ado, I present to you "BALLOONS," a story dictated to me by my beautiful four year old daughter. Frankly, I think she's got a great story-telling rhythm. And I'm not biased. Not at all. Really. (Smile.)
*******
One day the balloons bounced so high and she caught one! She caught the balloons and threw them right up in the air! One day a red balloon floated so high and she caught it, and she missed it and she tried to catch it but she didn't catch it because it landed so fast on the floor. One day she threw a pink balloon so high and they bounced so high. One day she had lots and lots of balloons and she tried to catch it but of course she couldn't catch it. It was so big and so fat.
*******
Sunday, June 25, 2006
What I'm Reading...Here at Summer's True Beginning
I know summer feels like it's been underway since Memorial Day, but on the calendar, it officially began this past Wednesday. I've had cause to remember it as the Boop was very excited about the first real day of summer, and we counted down to it for pretty much the last week of spring. Now that the season has arrived, she keeps reminding us how many days have passed, as in "today's the fourth day of summer...!" The other evening she prayed "And thank you Jesus for a good second day of summer," which made my heart almost burst with grateful smiles.
I've not done a "reading round-up" in a while, and probably should...though this casual posting will likely take the place of that. I had good intentions when the year started about keeping an official LIST of everything I'm reading, but it just isn't happening. So here, in no order except the order of how they come to me, are a few rambles on where my reading attention's been focused of late.
Current church events/theology. I'm mostly reading blog posts and journal articles on the recent General Convention. Kendall Harmon has the best blog at "titusonenine" -- it's an amazing repository of analysis from all perspectives, which keeps me grounded in both charity and clarity. I'm also busy plowing my way through the 34 page docoument on Trinitarian language recently written/distributed at the Presbyterian General Assembly. There's been a big brouhaha over some of the reommendations made there, and I decided I neded to see for myself what the fuss is about. It's interesting reading thus far, more orthodox and worth chewing on than I expected (at least they're still doing theological reflection in that denomination!) but with some problematic areas.
I'm also reading Brian MacLaren's Generous Orthodoxy (good, thought-provoking read, though not quite as radical as I expected, at least in the first few chapters).
Mysteries. My biggest fiction time lately has been spent with mysteries. I think I've now read every Dorothy Simpson novel I can reasonbly get my hands on, barring inter-library loan. I haven't bothered listing them all here because their names are all alike (and most have "death" somewhere in the title!). After awhile the books begin to run into each other and blur a bit too - she really stuck to a formula but it's one I like so I don't mind. They feel like comfort food. I'm also reading the second Ian Rutledge mystery by Charles Todd. Good stuff, but much harder to get into and stay into than the Simpson, though perhaps more rewarding in the end.
Kate DiCamillo. I love her work. All of it. And I'm especially in love with The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane which I just finished on Friday -- and finished reviewing for Epinions today. Score two for DiCamillo -- this and Because of Winn-Dixie are two of my favorite juvenile novels/stories from the past decade. What beautiful writing. She's up there with Katherine Paterson and Patrica MacLachlan for me now.
Have almost finised Dear Genius -- Ursula Nordstrom's letters. The final third feels like I'm slogging through molasses, which is really weird because the first 2/3 went like lightning. I was staying up late at night to read those letters. I don't know if it's me or the book (I have a theory, which I'll try to work out when I review it) but my interst is waning a bit. Of course it's a lengthy collection.
Devotionally, I'm tackling Tom Wright's Hebrews for Everyone -- trying to read one passage from Hebrews followed by his reflection each day.
Also reading some stuff on homeschooling...but it's late and I just realized how tired and stiff my back is. I work in the morning, which means more hours at a desk. I'd really better call it quits and get some rest.
I've not done a "reading round-up" in a while, and probably should...though this casual posting will likely take the place of that. I had good intentions when the year started about keeping an official LIST of everything I'm reading, but it just isn't happening. So here, in no order except the order of how they come to me, are a few rambles on where my reading attention's been focused of late.
Current church events/theology. I'm mostly reading blog posts and journal articles on the recent General Convention. Kendall Harmon has the best blog at "titusonenine" -- it's an amazing repository of analysis from all perspectives, which keeps me grounded in both charity and clarity. I'm also busy plowing my way through the 34 page docoument on Trinitarian language recently written/distributed at the Presbyterian General Assembly. There's been a big brouhaha over some of the reommendations made there, and I decided I neded to see for myself what the fuss is about. It's interesting reading thus far, more orthodox and worth chewing on than I expected (at least they're still doing theological reflection in that denomination!) but with some problematic areas.
I'm also reading Brian MacLaren's Generous Orthodoxy (good, thought-provoking read, though not quite as radical as I expected, at least in the first few chapters).
Mysteries. My biggest fiction time lately has been spent with mysteries. I think I've now read every Dorothy Simpson novel I can reasonbly get my hands on, barring inter-library loan. I haven't bothered listing them all here because their names are all alike (and most have "death" somewhere in the title!). After awhile the books begin to run into each other and blur a bit too - she really stuck to a formula but it's one I like so I don't mind. They feel like comfort food. I'm also reading the second Ian Rutledge mystery by Charles Todd. Good stuff, but much harder to get into and stay into than the Simpson, though perhaps more rewarding in the end.
Kate DiCamillo. I love her work. All of it. And I'm especially in love with The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane which I just finished on Friday -- and finished reviewing for Epinions today. Score two for DiCamillo -- this and Because of Winn-Dixie are two of my favorite juvenile novels/stories from the past decade. What beautiful writing. She's up there with Katherine Paterson and Patrica MacLachlan for me now.
Have almost finised Dear Genius -- Ursula Nordstrom's letters. The final third feels like I'm slogging through molasses, which is really weird because the first 2/3 went like lightning. I was staying up late at night to read those letters. I don't know if it's me or the book (I have a theory, which I'll try to work out when I review it) but my interst is waning a bit. Of course it's a lengthy collection.
Devotionally, I'm tackling Tom Wright's Hebrews for Everyone -- trying to read one passage from Hebrews followed by his reflection each day.
Also reading some stuff on homeschooling...but it's late and I just realized how tired and stiff my back is. I work in the morning, which means more hours at a desk. I'd really better call it quits and get some rest.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
"Are you a slacker Mom?"
I'm not entirely sure what a "slacker Mom" is, but according to the results of this silly personality quiz I took, apparently I'm not one. In fact, here are my results:
Are You a Slacker Mom? Your quiz results make you a Smarty Pants Mom
Smart parents like you have smart kids. They need plenty of intellectual stimulation and you provide them with all they need, plus lots of love. You know how to help them with algebra homework, and you are superior at kissing boo-boos. Take this free personality test by Clicking Here>> or going to www.areyouaslackermom.com
********
Well, I don't know about algebra homework -- thankfully we're a few years away from that still. But yes, I'm pretty good at kissing boo-boos. The Boop got her first majorly skinned knee this past week, which has sprouted an impressive scab. Just in time for that fourth birthday party next week!
I knew just how motherood had influenced my very core when I took another one of these silly quizzes when the Booper was about two. It was one of those "which Pooh character are you?" quizzes, and I assumed I was going to come out as Piglet. I've always suspected I have an inner Piglet. But no, somewhere along the way, I'd morphed into Kanga....
By the way, is there a Mr. Kanga anywhere? Milne never brings him up.
Sorry for the silliness of this posting, but I know I've got some more deep reflections coming soon (theology...ecclesiology...history...) so I thought I'd make sure I inject little levity into the week. :-)
Are You a Slacker Mom? Your quiz results make you a Smarty Pants Mom
Smart parents like you have smart kids. They need plenty of intellectual stimulation and you provide them with all they need, plus lots of love. You know how to help them with algebra homework, and you are superior at kissing boo-boos. Take this free personality test by Clicking Here>> or going to www.areyouaslackermom.com
********
Well, I don't know about algebra homework -- thankfully we're a few years away from that still. But yes, I'm pretty good at kissing boo-boos. The Boop got her first majorly skinned knee this past week, which has sprouted an impressive scab. Just in time for that fourth birthday party next week!
I knew just how motherood had influenced my very core when I took another one of these silly quizzes when the Booper was about two. It was one of those "which Pooh character are you?" quizzes, and I assumed I was going to come out as Piglet. I've always suspected I have an inner Piglet. But no, somewhere along the way, I'd morphed into Kanga....
By the way, is there a Mr. Kanga anywhere? Milne never brings him up.
Sorry for the silliness of this posting, but I know I've got some more deep reflections coming soon (theology...ecclesiology...history...) so I thought I'd make sure I inject little levity into the week. :-)
Monday, June 19, 2006
Wearing My Church History Hat
I had pretty much decided that I wouldn't post anything concerning the General Convention of the Episcopal Church being held this week in Columbus, OH. In general, this blog is really for my reflections on books...though I've realized in recent weeks the scope of my reflections has been expanding.
Besides the fact that I don't often care to comment publically on church politics, there's the fact that hundreds of other bloggers are already saying what needs to be said. However, as someone who loves Jesus, loves the Church, has been blessed to be a part of the Anglican tradition for over a decade, and who teaches Church History from time to time, I just can't seem to help but make a couple of comments.
I'm grieved but not terribly surprised by the Convention's actions this week. I had hoped that the Lord might yet knock a couple of prominent leaders off their horses, so to speak, shine the light of truth full on them as they travelled the Damascus Road and wake up their hearts. God is in the business of changing lives and hearts. People can repent.
But it seems that, at the moment, God is allowing the Episcopal Church in the U.S. to go on their undisciplined and uncharitable way. I'm not sure why, but I trust his higher purposes for the church -- both the church here in the U.S. and the church around the world.
The fact that ECUSA did not repent of their actions in 2003 was not surprising. The election of a woman as presiding bishop was surprising. Both actions send a very strong message to the rest of the global communion, and it's not a message of reconciliation. I know, to my deep sadness, that many people involved in these decisions view them as cutting edge, revolutionary and even prophetic. What they primarily are, it seems to me, is rude and self-serving, but in keeping with the modernist liberal theology that has held sway over much of the denomination in recent years.
Please hear me: my problem with the new presiding bishop's gender is in a different category than my problems with her theology. I understand, yea I even ache a bit, for the many, many Christians around the world who stand on a long history of church tradition and who do not accept or approve of women priests and bishops, including many of our own Anglican primates. That's why choosing a woman was a particular slap in the face to the the rest of the communion, especially at this critical juncture in our strained relations with the rest of the global church, because it shows that we're continuing to go on our merry way without regard for their feelings and concerns, and without humble recognition of the fact that the ordination of women has a relatively short history in the institutionalized church (I'm not talking about women's ministry, which has a long and hallowed tradition going way back to Jesus). But it's not ++Schori's gender that's the real problem here, it's her theology, and in that regard perhaps nothing much has changed at all, because it's the same ol', same ol'.
I confess I did find it a bit troubling to hear a statement of a theologically conservative diocese (can't recall which one right now) immediately raising questions of apostolic succession because of her election. It's understandable -- because she will be consecrating other bishops then of course that's an issue that will be raised, but what I don't understand is why we don't raise it more often with other bishops in the church, most of whom are male. If one has a completely physical/mechanistic view of sucession, then of course, anyone who has had hands laid on them properly in a consecration is "in apostolic sucession." And of course anyone who holds that because Jesus was male all valid bishops must be male is going to have a major problem with the consecration of a woman.
But my understanding of apostolic succession is deeper than that. If you look at the early history of the church, and of subsequent church history, it seems to me that the Holy Spirit has safeguarded the church and the message of the gospel to a hurting world through bishops and teachers who were faithful to apostolic teaching. That's where the rubber meets the road. If you have a faithful bishop who holds to the gospel, then that bishop is in apostolic succession. And in a less historic but somehow very real sense, every Christian who faithfully holds to the teaching of the apostles carries on in that line (my colors as a daughter of the Reformation really flying high right now!). It seems to me that in many ways the quiet but faithful passing on of the faith in families and communities down through the ages has as just about as much to do with apostolic succession as the consecration of bishops. I'm not saying the church doesn't need faithful bishops -- one reason I'm an Anglican is because I think collegial authority and mutual accountability is a very good thing and necessary thing. But the key for me is that the church needs faithful bishops, not just bishops. And when we lose that kind of faithful leadership, then the whole structure is in danger of capsizing.
More soon. I commend N.T. Wright's comments on the Windsor Report resolutions and Bishop Nazir-Ali's sermon on the Holy Spirit, both documents that have gotten a lot of attention in recent days.
Besides the fact that I don't often care to comment publically on church politics, there's the fact that hundreds of other bloggers are already saying what needs to be said. However, as someone who loves Jesus, loves the Church, has been blessed to be a part of the Anglican tradition for over a decade, and who teaches Church History from time to time, I just can't seem to help but make a couple of comments.
I'm grieved but not terribly surprised by the Convention's actions this week. I had hoped that the Lord might yet knock a couple of prominent leaders off their horses, so to speak, shine the light of truth full on them as they travelled the Damascus Road and wake up their hearts. God is in the business of changing lives and hearts. People can repent.
But it seems that, at the moment, God is allowing the Episcopal Church in the U.S. to go on their undisciplined and uncharitable way. I'm not sure why, but I trust his higher purposes for the church -- both the church here in the U.S. and the church around the world.
The fact that ECUSA did not repent of their actions in 2003 was not surprising. The election of a woman as presiding bishop was surprising. Both actions send a very strong message to the rest of the global communion, and it's not a message of reconciliation. I know, to my deep sadness, that many people involved in these decisions view them as cutting edge, revolutionary and even prophetic. What they primarily are, it seems to me, is rude and self-serving, but in keeping with the modernist liberal theology that has held sway over much of the denomination in recent years.
Please hear me: my problem with the new presiding bishop's gender is in a different category than my problems with her theology. I understand, yea I even ache a bit, for the many, many Christians around the world who stand on a long history of church tradition and who do not accept or approve of women priests and bishops, including many of our own Anglican primates. That's why choosing a woman was a particular slap in the face to the the rest of the communion, especially at this critical juncture in our strained relations with the rest of the global church, because it shows that we're continuing to go on our merry way without regard for their feelings and concerns, and without humble recognition of the fact that the ordination of women has a relatively short history in the institutionalized church (I'm not talking about women's ministry, which has a long and hallowed tradition going way back to Jesus). But it's not ++Schori's gender that's the real problem here, it's her theology, and in that regard perhaps nothing much has changed at all, because it's the same ol', same ol'.
I confess I did find it a bit troubling to hear a statement of a theologically conservative diocese (can't recall which one right now) immediately raising questions of apostolic succession because of her election. It's understandable -- because she will be consecrating other bishops then of course that's an issue that will be raised, but what I don't understand is why we don't raise it more often with other bishops in the church, most of whom are male. If one has a completely physical/mechanistic view of sucession, then of course, anyone who has had hands laid on them properly in a consecration is "in apostolic sucession." And of course anyone who holds that because Jesus was male all valid bishops must be male is going to have a major problem with the consecration of a woman.
But my understanding of apostolic succession is deeper than that. If you look at the early history of the church, and of subsequent church history, it seems to me that the Holy Spirit has safeguarded the church and the message of the gospel to a hurting world through bishops and teachers who were faithful to apostolic teaching. That's where the rubber meets the road. If you have a faithful bishop who holds to the gospel, then that bishop is in apostolic succession. And in a less historic but somehow very real sense, every Christian who faithfully holds to the teaching of the apostles carries on in that line (my colors as a daughter of the Reformation really flying high right now!). It seems to me that in many ways the quiet but faithful passing on of the faith in families and communities down through the ages has as just about as much to do with apostolic succession as the consecration of bishops. I'm not saying the church doesn't need faithful bishops -- one reason I'm an Anglican is because I think collegial authority and mutual accountability is a very good thing and necessary thing. But the key for me is that the church needs faithful bishops, not just bishops. And when we lose that kind of faithful leadership, then the whole structure is in danger of capsizing.
More soon. I commend N.T. Wright's comments on the Windsor Report resolutions and Bishop Nazir-Ali's sermon on the Holy Spirit, both documents that have gotten a lot of attention in recent days.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
...And the Passion (and Compassion) of Youth
I have to say how impressed and moved I was by our church's youth group this past weekend. The youth pastor who happens to be my DH (dear husband) coordinated events for a 30-Hour famine. 14 kids and 6 leaders fasted for 30 hours and did service projects in the community to raise funds for World Vision to help hungry children around the world. They also did some service projects in the church as volunteers, most notably some heavy-duty cleaning on the third floor.
The memory I will carry with me was a young woman we've really grown to admire, K.A., standing on the side of the road on Friday afternoon, holding her donation can and calling out to passing cars. The kids did a concert in the gazebo park in the center of town (inviting their friends in bands to play; our church band also did a set). They also sold baked goods and did face painting (Boop got another butterfly on her cheek...I got a flower!). They all worked hard, but I was really struck by the energy and passion of K.A. She kept crying out "a dollar a day feeds a hungry child!" and there was no false guilt-tripping or salesmanship about it...she was not shouting out an empty slogan. She just genuinely implored people from her heart, spoke the truth. These kids felt such passion about what they were doing, a real desire to find some way to meet needs in a broken and hungry world. How good of God to answer those desires by helping them to raise so much. For such a small group, they did an amazing job, and because of World Vision's matching grants, food will be provided to 16 hungry children for a whole year.
That's passion and compassion in action!
The memory I will carry with me was a young woman we've really grown to admire, K.A., standing on the side of the road on Friday afternoon, holding her donation can and calling out to passing cars. The kids did a concert in the gazebo park in the center of town (inviting their friends in bands to play; our church band also did a set). They also sold baked goods and did face painting (Boop got another butterfly on her cheek...I got a flower!). They all worked hard, but I was really struck by the energy and passion of K.A. She kept crying out "a dollar a day feeds a hungry child!" and there was no false guilt-tripping or salesmanship about it...she was not shouting out an empty slogan. She just genuinely implored people from her heart, spoke the truth. These kids felt such passion about what they were doing, a real desire to find some way to meet needs in a broken and hungry world. How good of God to answer those desires by helping them to raise so much. For such a small group, they did an amazing job, and because of World Vision's matching grants, food will be provided to 16 hungry children for a whole year.
That's passion and compassion in action!
The Audacity of Youth
Continuing my delicious read of Ursula Nordstrom's letters, and came across a bit of information that made me recall a wonderfully audacious moment from my adolescence.
Charlotte Zolotow started out in the world of children's publishing as Ursula Nordstrom's secretary. Later on she became a distinguished author and editor in her own right. OK, you say, that's great. So what?
I happen to have a letter from Charlotte Zolotow in my files. An actual typewritten (yes, typewritten) letter with a signature. It was a reply to a query I sent to Harper's when I was sixteen years old. I actually wrote to Charlotte Zolotow to pitch the idea for a picture book I'd already written.
The book was called Homer and was the story of a leaf that turned red on a tree where almost all of the other leaves turned yellow. He was teased and got embarrassed about how different he was, but in the end, he became immortalized in a little girl's beautiful collage. It was, if I say so myself, a pretty good story. I wrote a lot during my high school years, and my love of children's literature had given me a pretty good story-telling sense and rhythm. My dad helped me reproduce the text (we actually enlarged my typewritten sheets on a photocopier... this was still a few years before everyone had a computer) and we pasted the words on cardstock. He did beautiful illustrations for it and we actually bound it by hand. I still have the book -- I've not yet shared it with the Boop because it's sort of fragile now and I think she will appreciate it more later and treat it more gently too.
I'm getting sidetracked. I did not send the book or even a whole typewritten manuscript to Charlotte Zolotow. I knew enough to know that I should simply send a query letter and share my idea, which I did. I don't have a copy of that original letter I wrote, but I do have her very gracious reply. (I just re-found it in my files a few months ago. The fact that I can't find it right this moment is not an indication of how I feel about it but an indication of the utter disarray of my files. Sigh.)
CZ, as Ursula Nordstrom called her, took me seriously. She told me that she didn't think they could offer to publish my book successfully because the theme of someone mocked for being different but triumphing in the end was a tried and true one that had been done before, perhaps best in Hans Christian Anderson's "The Ugly Duckling," which had been one of my favorites in childhood. She told me I'd made an "impressive start" to my "writing career" (I still remember how much those few words meant to me) and encouraged me to read everything I could and to keep writing.
What a treasure of a letter. And what an audacious thing for me to do, to send a letter to such a respected editor at such an established publishing house. Of course, I had no clue then of what a part she had played in helping to publish renowned 20th century children's lit. I don't even think I knew any of her stories. If I'm remembering rightly, I picked her name out of a market listing because...I thought it was pretty. :-)
When I look back on all that now, I have to smile. And I have to marvel at a few things:
Charlotte Zolotow started out in the world of children's publishing as Ursula Nordstrom's secretary. Later on she became a distinguished author and editor in her own right. OK, you say, that's great. So what?
I happen to have a letter from Charlotte Zolotow in my files. An actual typewritten (yes, typewritten) letter with a signature. It was a reply to a query I sent to Harper's when I was sixteen years old. I actually wrote to Charlotte Zolotow to pitch the idea for a picture book I'd already written.
The book was called Homer and was the story of a leaf that turned red on a tree where almost all of the other leaves turned yellow. He was teased and got embarrassed about how different he was, but in the end, he became immortalized in a little girl's beautiful collage. It was, if I say so myself, a pretty good story. I wrote a lot during my high school years, and my love of children's literature had given me a pretty good story-telling sense and rhythm. My dad helped me reproduce the text (we actually enlarged my typewritten sheets on a photocopier... this was still a few years before everyone had a computer) and we pasted the words on cardstock. He did beautiful illustrations for it and we actually bound it by hand. I still have the book -- I've not yet shared it with the Boop because it's sort of fragile now and I think she will appreciate it more later and treat it more gently too.
I'm getting sidetracked. I did not send the book or even a whole typewritten manuscript to Charlotte Zolotow. I knew enough to know that I should simply send a query letter and share my idea, which I did. I don't have a copy of that original letter I wrote, but I do have her very gracious reply. (I just re-found it in my files a few months ago. The fact that I can't find it right this moment is not an indication of how I feel about it but an indication of the utter disarray of my files. Sigh.)
CZ, as Ursula Nordstrom called her, took me seriously. She told me that she didn't think they could offer to publish my book successfully because the theme of someone mocked for being different but triumphing in the end was a tried and true one that had been done before, perhaps best in Hans Christian Anderson's "The Ugly Duckling," which had been one of my favorites in childhood. She told me I'd made an "impressive start" to my "writing career" (I still remember how much those few words meant to me) and encouraged me to read everything I could and to keep writing.
What a treasure of a letter. And what an audacious thing for me to do, to send a letter to such a respected editor at such an established publishing house. Of course, I had no clue then of what a part she had played in helping to publish renowned 20th century children's lit. I don't even think I knew any of her stories. If I'm remembering rightly, I picked her name out of a market listing because...I thought it was pretty. :-)
When I look back on all that now, I have to smile. And I have to marvel at a few things:
- my early passion for writing
- my early confidence in the stories I was writing
- the fact that a letter from an unpublished and naive sixteen year old could get through to a senior editor at Harper's and actually elicit a personal response
The first two reflections make me glad; the third one sad. Harper's, along with most other major publishing houses, no longer accepts unsolicited manuscripts or queries. I suspect a letter from me now, twenty-two years later, would not even make it into a slush pile to be read by the most junior of editors, much less responded to in any way. As I read Nordstrom's letters, and as I reflect on how the world of children's book publishing has changed in recent years, I realize it's lost a certain kind of personal, family-like atmosphere, in which young talent could be welcomed and encouraged. Nowadays it's mostly just bottom-line business (which is one reason I think my recent reading of It's a Bunny Eats Bunny World left me feeling somewhat discouraged about any chance I might have to get published in this field).
Ah well. I've definitely wandered far afield here. Mostly just wanted to reflect on how grateful I am for the audacity of youth, and to celebrate a small (very small) connection with the historic Ursula Nordstrom whose letters I've been enjoying so much this week.
Friday, June 09, 2006
The Influence of a Good Editor
I've been reading Dear Genius: The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom. What an amazing woman and what a lively collection of letters!
Nordstrom was the director of Harper's Department of Books for Boys and Girls from 1940-1973, and as such, she was highly influential in the area of American children's literature for decades. You may have never heard of her, but among other things, she discovered Maurice Sendak (who was designing window displays for F.A.O. Schwarz) and helped bring to birth such children's classics as Charlotte's Web, Good Night, Moon, Harold and the Purple Crayon, Where the Wild Things Are, and the I Can Read Series that featured the Little Bear stories. And that's just a a sampling. She worked with some of the most innovative authors and illustrators in the business.
And when I say worked with them, I don't just mean discovered their talent, corrected their punctuation, or made a kind suggestion now and again. What's revelatory about her letters is how hard a good editor works over every detail of a book, even a picture book with relatively few words. Nordstrom had a knack for encouraging her writers, lavishing praise on their good work and challenging the work they gave her that she considered less than good. She pushed them to find just the right words, and to create pictures that really brought literature to life. Her letters to E.B. White over the rough drawings by Garth Williams for Charlotte's Web almost made me laugh, she was so earnest about getting things just right, literally line by line. I discovered that I also have her to thank for one of my favorite illustrations from childhood, the picture of Esther Averill's Jenny the cat doing the sailor's hornpipe (where you can just see one paw lifting over the basket). The image was in the text, but Nordstrom encouraged Averill to draw it.
I'm very glad she stayed a children's book editor, as that was her main love. In one of the letters she relates a funny story about a member of Harper's management taking her to lunch to offer her a job as an editor in one of the "grown-up" book divisions. His implication was clear: that she'd be "moving up" if she took such a job. And Nordstrom wrote this to describe her own response:
"I almost pushed the luncheon table into the lap of the pompous gentleman opposite me and then explained kindly that publishing children's books was what I did, that I couldn't possibly be interested in books for dead dull finished adults, and thank you very much but I had to get back to my desk to publish some more good books for bad children."
I hope that quote gives you an indication of the lively quality of her voice and personality, which by all accounts was larger than life. Wonderful letters!
Nordstrom was the director of Harper's Department of Books for Boys and Girls from 1940-1973, and as such, she was highly influential in the area of American children's literature for decades. You may have never heard of her, but among other things, she discovered Maurice Sendak (who was designing window displays for F.A.O. Schwarz) and helped bring to birth such children's classics as Charlotte's Web, Good Night, Moon, Harold and the Purple Crayon, Where the Wild Things Are, and the I Can Read Series that featured the Little Bear stories. And that's just a a sampling. She worked with some of the most innovative authors and illustrators in the business.
And when I say worked with them, I don't just mean discovered their talent, corrected their punctuation, or made a kind suggestion now and again. What's revelatory about her letters is how hard a good editor works over every detail of a book, even a picture book with relatively few words. Nordstrom had a knack for encouraging her writers, lavishing praise on their good work and challenging the work they gave her that she considered less than good. She pushed them to find just the right words, and to create pictures that really brought literature to life. Her letters to E.B. White over the rough drawings by Garth Williams for Charlotte's Web almost made me laugh, she was so earnest about getting things just right, literally line by line. I discovered that I also have her to thank for one of my favorite illustrations from childhood, the picture of Esther Averill's Jenny the cat doing the sailor's hornpipe (where you can just see one paw lifting over the basket). The image was in the text, but Nordstrom encouraged Averill to draw it.
I'm very glad she stayed a children's book editor, as that was her main love. In one of the letters she relates a funny story about a member of Harper's management taking her to lunch to offer her a job as an editor in one of the "grown-up" book divisions. His implication was clear: that she'd be "moving up" if she took such a job. And Nordstrom wrote this to describe her own response:
"I almost pushed the luncheon table into the lap of the pompous gentleman opposite me and then explained kindly that publishing children's books was what I did, that I couldn't possibly be interested in books for dead dull finished adults, and thank you very much but I had to get back to my desk to publish some more good books for bad children."
I hope that quote gives you an indication of the lively quality of her voice and personality, which by all accounts was larger than life. Wonderful letters!
Sunday, June 04, 2006
"Open My Eyes That I May See..."
Tonight at family prayers, we got out some of our older Bible verse cards we hadn't done in a while. One of them was Psalm 119:18, which reads "Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in your law..."
When we first started doing these cards with the Boop, probably a year or so ago, she wasn't talking much yet. I used picture prompts to help her learn the Scripture verses, and our usual method of reviewing them was for me to read the whole verse and just pause before the key word or phrase that was pictured on the front of the card and that we wanted her to be able to remember. This particular card has a picture of a face, a person with very vivid eyes, and the key word was "eyes."
We hadn't done this one in a while, so I went ahead and read the first two words "Open my..." and paused. "Eyes," my little daughter said quickly. I went on to "that I may see..." and decided to pause again to see if she'd remember the last words of the verse. She paused for a moment, and then said, quite simply "good things about God."
And I felt astounded. More astounded really than if she'd remembered the actual words. Every once in a while, in a parent's life, comes a happy and beautiful moment when you realize that the things you're striving to teach your little ones are actually sinking in and taking root. "Good things about God" -- those are exactly what we are praying that her open eyes are learning to see, wherever she goes. I felt proud and humbled and very, very thankful.
Happy Pentecost!
When we first started doing these cards with the Boop, probably a year or so ago, she wasn't talking much yet. I used picture prompts to help her learn the Scripture verses, and our usual method of reviewing them was for me to read the whole verse and just pause before the key word or phrase that was pictured on the front of the card and that we wanted her to be able to remember. This particular card has a picture of a face, a person with very vivid eyes, and the key word was "eyes."
We hadn't done this one in a while, so I went ahead and read the first two words "Open my..." and paused. "Eyes," my little daughter said quickly. I went on to "that I may see..." and decided to pause again to see if she'd remember the last words of the verse. She paused for a moment, and then said, quite simply "good things about God."
And I felt astounded. More astounded really than if she'd remembered the actual words. Every once in a while, in a parent's life, comes a happy and beautiful moment when you realize that the things you're striving to teach your little ones are actually sinking in and taking root. "Good things about God" -- those are exactly what we are praying that her open eyes are learning to see, wherever she goes. I felt proud and humbled and very, very thankful.
Happy Pentecost!
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Christianity Today's 2006 Book Awards
The 2006 book awards were posted yesterday on http://www.christianitytoday.com . I always find good reading material on this list. It's usually posted around mid-year, and honors books in the previous publishing year. In their own words, they're looking for "titles that bring understanding to people, events, and ideas that shape evangelical life, thought, and mission." 37 publishers nominated 240 books, and 22 were chosen in several categories overall -- each category usually has one winner and then one or more "awards of merit."
Although I've only read one of the winners -- Alan Jacobs' The Narnian was aptly chosen as the winner in the history/biography category -- I was happy to see several of my favorite writers and thinkers turn up, including N.T. Wright, Eugene Peterson, Ron Sider, Debra Rienstra, Lauren Winner, and James Calvin Schaap.
I'm perhaps most intrigued by the title that won in the "Christianity and Culture" category, but then my husband's a youth pastor, which may explain (at least partly) my deep interest in the subject matter: Soul Searching: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers (Christian Smith, Melinda Lundquist Denton, Oxford). The winner in the fiction category was also a new name to me, Nicole Mazzarella, whose novel This Heavy Silence was published by Paraclete Press. I find that intriguing because I think it's Paraclete that's been running the fiction contest in conjunction with Calvin College's Festival of Faith and Writing. I wonder if this novel got its start in that competition, or if good writers are just being attracted to Paraclete because of that connection?
And speaking of that wonderful festival held every two years in Michigan, I've never been able to attend, but have found so many good writers through its speaker lineup. In fact, that's how I found Schaap, an excellent short story writer. He's a novelist too, but I have really only read his shorter work. I actually have a slightly deeper connection with him as well, because six years ago, the Calvin Worship Institute ran a short fiction contest around the time of the Festival, and my short story "The Man in the Center" took second place. James Calvin Schaap was the judge and made some very kind and encouraging comments about my piece. His book Startling Joy: Seven Magical Stories of Christmas (Revell) took the award of merit in the fiction category, and is now on my wishlist for holiday reading a few months from now.
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Rowan Williams, archbishop of Cantebury and thereby the pastoral head of the Anglican Communion of which I'm a part, also has a book on this list which I'd like to read: Why Study the Past? The Quest for the Historical Church (Eerdmans). Could be interesting reading in light of current dilemmas in the communion. Also might be good for me to read this summer as I prepare to teach another church history course for the seminary in the fall.
Debra Rienstra, author of one of my favorite books on motherhood, has picked up an award of merit in the apologetics/evangelism category for So Much More: An Invitation to Christian Spirituality (Jossey-Bass). Yes indeed, that wishlist is growing.
Oddly enough, I wasn't too excited by the descriptions of either of the books that won in the theology category -- odd because, of course, I did my grad. studies in theology. Perhaps the blurbs sounded too dry and academic, and perhaps it's just where I'm at in this particular season of my life.
Why don't they award the best children's books? They should!
At any rate, check out the list...definitely some writers worth reading, both old and new.
Although I've only read one of the winners -- Alan Jacobs' The Narnian was aptly chosen as the winner in the history/biography category -- I was happy to see several of my favorite writers and thinkers turn up, including N.T. Wright, Eugene Peterson, Ron Sider, Debra Rienstra, Lauren Winner, and James Calvin Schaap.
I'm perhaps most intrigued by the title that won in the "Christianity and Culture" category, but then my husband's a youth pastor, which may explain (at least partly) my deep interest in the subject matter: Soul Searching: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers (Christian Smith, Melinda Lundquist Denton, Oxford). The winner in the fiction category was also a new name to me, Nicole Mazzarella, whose novel This Heavy Silence was published by Paraclete Press. I find that intriguing because I think it's Paraclete that's been running the fiction contest in conjunction with Calvin College's Festival of Faith and Writing. I wonder if this novel got its start in that competition, or if good writers are just being attracted to Paraclete because of that connection?
And speaking of that wonderful festival held every two years in Michigan, I've never been able to attend, but have found so many good writers through its speaker lineup. In fact, that's how I found Schaap, an excellent short story writer. He's a novelist too, but I have really only read his shorter work. I actually have a slightly deeper connection with him as well, because six years ago, the Calvin Worship Institute ran a short fiction contest around the time of the Festival, and my short story "The Man in the Center" took second place. James Calvin Schaap was the judge and made some very kind and encouraging comments about my piece. His book Startling Joy: Seven Magical Stories of Christmas (Revell) took the award of merit in the fiction category, and is now on my wishlist for holiday reading a few months from now.
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Rowan Williams, archbishop of Cantebury and thereby the pastoral head of the Anglican Communion of which I'm a part, also has a book on this list which I'd like to read: Why Study the Past? The Quest for the Historical Church (Eerdmans). Could be interesting reading in light of current dilemmas in the communion. Also might be good for me to read this summer as I prepare to teach another church history course for the seminary in the fall.
Debra Rienstra, author of one of my favorite books on motherhood, has picked up an award of merit in the apologetics/evangelism category for So Much More: An Invitation to Christian Spirituality (Jossey-Bass). Yes indeed, that wishlist is growing.
Oddly enough, I wasn't too excited by the descriptions of either of the books that won in the theology category -- odd because, of course, I did my grad. studies in theology. Perhaps the blurbs sounded too dry and academic, and perhaps it's just where I'm at in this particular season of my life.
Why don't they award the best children's books? They should!
At any rate, check out the list...definitely some writers worth reading, both old and new.
Friday, May 26, 2006
"Some Pig!"
We've been reading Charlotte's Web during family reading time. We started reading longer (older) books with the Booper as part of family reading when she was about two. Too much busyness with D's and my jobs and schedules, plus Boop's own sudden squirmy attention span during longer books this past winter, meant that we dropped the practice for awhile. I'm happy that we're reinstituting it now, with summer coming on. Thus far, we've mostly been reading on preschool mornings in the car on the way to school (partly to divert her attention from the stress she's been feeling about school) but soon we'll need to come up with a new time when we can all read together.
Anyway, she's really liking this lovely book by E.B. White -- a favorite from my own childhood. And I'm so glad! Earlier this afternoon, she was trundling around the house with her little painted wooden pig magnet (from a set of animal magnets Aunt Martha gave her last year) and delighted me by calling him Wilbur. She fed Wilbur a snack and even gave him a quick bath in the sink when she was supposed to be washing her hands. She likes to say "the pig's ears turned pink in the sun" which is an echo of a line we read the other day. And she's excitedly looking forward to the end of the book, when they go to a fair...I told her that was coming, knowing she'd be excited since we went to a fair just last weekend (where Booper got her first -- and second! -- pony ride!)
If you've never read Lauren Winner's lovely tribute to the genius of Charlotte's Web, you can check it out here at http://www.christianitytoday.com/bc/2005/005/12.28.html It not only includes fascinating biographical information about E.B. White and the many drafts he went through before coming up with that wonderful opening line "Where's Papa going with that ax?" but some very thoughtful stuff on the importance of community in writing, loving and living.
On my own, I've also been reading some James Herriot stories again -- for the first time in many years. I picked up a beautiful hardback copy of his Animal Stories several months ago at a used book sale. It looked like it had never been read, and his stories are so worth reading. Just opening the covers and moving back into the rural world of the beloved Yorkshire vet gave me a deep feeling of satisfaction, returning to a place I'd always enjoyed visiting but hadn't been to in a long time. Some of my most pleasurable reading moments as an adolescent were spent in Herriot's company; he writes beautiful prose out of years of keen observations of people and animals. If you know a child who loves animals but is ready to move on from Charlotte's Web (although of course CW is a book the child will go back to again and again!) then Herriot just might be an author to recommend.
Anyway, she's really liking this lovely book by E.B. White -- a favorite from my own childhood. And I'm so glad! Earlier this afternoon, she was trundling around the house with her little painted wooden pig magnet (from a set of animal magnets Aunt Martha gave her last year) and delighted me by calling him Wilbur. She fed Wilbur a snack and even gave him a quick bath in the sink when she was supposed to be washing her hands. She likes to say "the pig's ears turned pink in the sun" which is an echo of a line we read the other day. And she's excitedly looking forward to the end of the book, when they go to a fair...I told her that was coming, knowing she'd be excited since we went to a fair just last weekend (where Booper got her first -- and second! -- pony ride!)
If you've never read Lauren Winner's lovely tribute to the genius of Charlotte's Web, you can check it out here at http://www.christianitytoday.com/bc/2005/005/12.28.html It not only includes fascinating biographical information about E.B. White and the many drafts he went through before coming up with that wonderful opening line "Where's Papa going with that ax?" but some very thoughtful stuff on the importance of community in writing, loving and living.
On my own, I've also been reading some James Herriot stories again -- for the first time in many years. I picked up a beautiful hardback copy of his Animal Stories several months ago at a used book sale. It looked like it had never been read, and his stories are so worth reading. Just opening the covers and moving back into the rural world of the beloved Yorkshire vet gave me a deep feeling of satisfaction, returning to a place I'd always enjoyed visiting but hadn't been to in a long time. Some of my most pleasurable reading moments as an adolescent were spent in Herriot's company; he writes beautiful prose out of years of keen observations of people and animals. If you know a child who loves animals but is ready to move on from Charlotte's Web (although of course CW is a book the child will go back to again and again!) then Herriot just might be an author to recommend.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Dandelion and Rain Puddle
It's been raining and raining lately...seems like most of the past month! Today was a beautifully clear, blue-sky day, but I thought I'd go on and post one of our rainy day pictures from a few weeks ago.
My sweet girl has a fascination with puddles, as you can see. She loves to jump in them (much to her Mommy's secret delight and her Daddy's chagrin). She also loves dandelions!
Lately we've been reading a lot of stories about rain. Some of our favorites include Splish! Splash! A Book About Rain (where we learned all about the water cycle), Amy Loves the Rain, and Rabbits and Raindrops.
"...Like Putting on Clothes in the Morning"
Life's been very busy -- too busy, probably. Between work, parenting and writing (the three biggies in my life right now) I hardly ever seem to have a spare moment. This week I need very much to do some housecleaning and organizing, respond to a young friend who has asked for feedback on a short story he wrote, and also work on pulling together my fall syllabus for the online class I'll be teaching again for the seminary. I've also got plenty of other things on my plate, both big and small.
I need to remember to keep first things first, or to "major in the majors" as I heard someone say the other day.
It helps to keep reading words that put me back in that place, the position of listening for God's voice, the openness to receive and to be shaped.
A few days ago I read this, from Charlie Peacock's book New Way to Be Human (Shaw Books, 2004):
"...praying is like putting on clothes in the morning. It covers my nakedness and answers the Edenic question, "Where are you....?" My prayers announce my location and my status -- "Here I am, God!" -- dissolving any pretence that I am anything other than a small and needy man. This is the kind of effect Jesus has on people. It's all a part of his plan. He moves us from being the kind of people who use his creation to hide from him to being the kind of people who eagerly seek an authetic God-human conversation."
Or perhaps it would be even better to say that he moves us/changes us into the kinds of people who eagerly seek to respond to God's invitation to talk with him. We don't have to fear the "where are you?" question if our answer is "Here I am...I need you and love you! Come find me, God, and help me rest in your presence."
I need to remember to keep first things first, or to "major in the majors" as I heard someone say the other day.
It helps to keep reading words that put me back in that place, the position of listening for God's voice, the openness to receive and to be shaped.
A few days ago I read this, from Charlie Peacock's book New Way to Be Human (Shaw Books, 2004):
"...praying is like putting on clothes in the morning. It covers my nakedness and answers the Edenic question, "Where are you....?" My prayers announce my location and my status -- "Here I am, God!" -- dissolving any pretence that I am anything other than a small and needy man. This is the kind of effect Jesus has on people. It's all a part of his plan. He moves us from being the kind of people who use his creation to hide from him to being the kind of people who eagerly seek an authetic God-human conversation."
Or perhaps it would be even better to say that he moves us/changes us into the kinds of people who eagerly seek to respond to God's invitation to talk with him. We don't have to fear the "where are you?" question if our answer is "Here I am...I need you and love you! Come find me, God, and help me rest in your presence."
Thursday, May 18, 2006
The All-Consuming Nature of Consuming
I've been reading some of the essays in Rodney Clapp's Border Crossings. Clapp works at Brazos Press; the subtitle of this collection (published byBrazos in 2000) is "Christian Trespasses on Popular Culture and Public Affairs." Lots of interesting things here, but one of the most interesting is the essay I'm working through at the moment, entitled "The Theology of Consumption and the Consumption of Theology."
Early in the essay, Clapp shares a fascinating and troubling anecdote. The story was told to him by a Christian historian who had written a dissertation on consumerism. The historian told him about an experience he'd had with some college age folks at a Christian camp. The gathering included people from a number of different countries, and during the ice-breaker time, the groups were divided up according to their nationalities and asked to discuss and agree on a song that they could perform for the rest of the gathering -- a song that all felt represented their culture. According to this man, most of the groups had relatively little trouble agreeing on a song -- within a few minutes, they'd chosen and rehearsed it -- and nearly all of them chose what he termed "indigenous folk songs."
Except, of course, for the group from the United States. They couldn't agree. They discussed for an hour, rejecting various suggestions of rock and country songs. And then, as Clapp reports: "At last they settled -- on Coca-Cola's 'I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing.' The jingle ringing in his ears, Lendol {the historian} realized that commercial culture was what finally and ultimately bound these Americans -- these American Christians -- together."
I've been thinking about why this troubles me so much. There are several layers to my response, and I won't try to unpack all of them here. But at least a couple of things feel worth noting.
One is that we no longer seem to have a shared story in our culture. No real news there -- the enlightenment souned a death knell for an emphasis on "meta-narrative" in the West. But what I think I mean is that our national culture is so divided and subdivided that there doesn't even really seem to be one overarching cultural narrative anymore, if there ever was. You might be able to have people from a certain region or state come to some agreement about a song that expressed regional cultural attitudes and values, but trying to get a large group of US Americans to agree on something that represents our country to others sounds nigh unto impossible. Maybe that's not so unsettling -- maybe it's all part and parcel of our stubborn, rugged individualism (ugh) but what DOES seem troubling is when you move from the nationalist level to the community of faith level. What does it mean when American Christians (and I repeat Clapp's emphasis) find their deepest connections not in the overarching Christian Story, or not even in cultural songs that allude to some deeply cherished communal values, but in an advetising jingle that was designed in the first place to get us to buy something we didn't need that wasn't even good for us!?
Maybe it's because the narratives we all know are the small narratives told through t.v., movies, and advertising...they're the ones we hear over and over again, the ones we hold in common with lots of other people. Think about how many advertising jingles and t.v. theme songs you can sing. My own head is stuffed full of them, especially from childhood and adolescence. I have clear memories of sitting in a dorm lounge in college and singing through these kinds of things with friends. Thankfully, I also have memories of at least one "hymn-sing" in college, but that was an exceptionally unusual evening, even on the campus of the small Christian college I attended my freshman year (where the hymn-sing occurred). As for "indigenous folk songs" -- which ones did we all know? Maybe a few peans to primarily civil religion like "America the Beautiful" or "My Country Tis' of Thee" or possibly a few folk songs we'd all learned in school such as "This Land Was Made for You and Me."
If you and I were in a room full of other Christians from the U.S. today, what songs would we likely come up with to suggest who we are and what we value? What stories, themes, ideas shape us? Are we more shaped by what we buy, own and use than by the truly greatest Story ever told and known?
I need to think more about the dangers of consumerism, especially, as Clapp says, "consumerism...as an ethos, a character-cultivating way of life that seduces and insinuates and acclimates. This, too often, is consumption that militates against all sorts of Christian virtues, such as patience and contentedness and self-denial, but almost always with a velvet glove rather than an iron fist. It speaks in tones sweet and sexy rather than dictatorial, and it conquers by promises rather than by threats."
Early in the essay, Clapp shares a fascinating and troubling anecdote. The story was told to him by a Christian historian who had written a dissertation on consumerism. The historian told him about an experience he'd had with some college age folks at a Christian camp. The gathering included people from a number of different countries, and during the ice-breaker time, the groups were divided up according to their nationalities and asked to discuss and agree on a song that they could perform for the rest of the gathering -- a song that all felt represented their culture. According to this man, most of the groups had relatively little trouble agreeing on a song -- within a few minutes, they'd chosen and rehearsed it -- and nearly all of them chose what he termed "indigenous folk songs."
Except, of course, for the group from the United States. They couldn't agree. They discussed for an hour, rejecting various suggestions of rock and country songs. And then, as Clapp reports: "At last they settled -- on Coca-Cola's 'I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing.' The jingle ringing in his ears, Lendol {the historian} realized that commercial culture was what finally and ultimately bound these Americans -- these American Christians -- together."
I've been thinking about why this troubles me so much. There are several layers to my response, and I won't try to unpack all of them here. But at least a couple of things feel worth noting.
One is that we no longer seem to have a shared story in our culture. No real news there -- the enlightenment souned a death knell for an emphasis on "meta-narrative" in the West. But what I think I mean is that our national culture is so divided and subdivided that there doesn't even really seem to be one overarching cultural narrative anymore, if there ever was. You might be able to have people from a certain region or state come to some agreement about a song that expressed regional cultural attitudes and values, but trying to get a large group of US Americans to agree on something that represents our country to others sounds nigh unto impossible. Maybe that's not so unsettling -- maybe it's all part and parcel of our stubborn, rugged individualism (ugh) but what DOES seem troubling is when you move from the nationalist level to the community of faith level. What does it mean when American Christians (and I repeat Clapp's emphasis) find their deepest connections not in the overarching Christian Story, or not even in cultural songs that allude to some deeply cherished communal values, but in an advetising jingle that was designed in the first place to get us to buy something we didn't need that wasn't even good for us!?
Maybe it's because the narratives we all know are the small narratives told through t.v., movies, and advertising...they're the ones we hear over and over again, the ones we hold in common with lots of other people. Think about how many advertising jingles and t.v. theme songs you can sing. My own head is stuffed full of them, especially from childhood and adolescence. I have clear memories of sitting in a dorm lounge in college and singing through these kinds of things with friends. Thankfully, I also have memories of at least one "hymn-sing" in college, but that was an exceptionally unusual evening, even on the campus of the small Christian college I attended my freshman year (where the hymn-sing occurred). As for "indigenous folk songs" -- which ones did we all know? Maybe a few peans to primarily civil religion like "America the Beautiful" or "My Country Tis' of Thee" or possibly a few folk songs we'd all learned in school such as "This Land Was Made for You and Me."
If you and I were in a room full of other Christians from the U.S. today, what songs would we likely come up with to suggest who we are and what we value? What stories, themes, ideas shape us? Are we more shaped by what we buy, own and use than by the truly greatest Story ever told and known?
I need to think more about the dangers of consumerism, especially, as Clapp says, "consumerism...as an ethos, a character-cultivating way of life that seduces and insinuates and acclimates. This, too often, is consumption that militates against all sorts of Christian virtues, such as patience and contentedness and self-denial, but almost always with a velvet glove rather than an iron fist. It speaks in tones sweet and sexy rather than dictatorial, and it conquers by promises rather than by threats."
Monday, May 15, 2006
Another Bird
I frequently quote (sometimes out loud, sometimes inwardly) the wonderful stanza from Emily Dickinson that begins: "Hope is the thing with feathers/that perches in the soul..." I've always loved that little poem.
Just recently found yet another bird stanza that speaks (or sings?!) volumes to my heart. Here is it, from Victor Hugo:
Be like the bird
Who, pausing in her flight
On limb too slight,
Feels it give way beneath her
Yet sings,
Knowing she hath wings.
That's the kind of singing I think I understand best right now.
Just recently found yet another bird stanza that speaks (or sings?!) volumes to my heart. Here is it, from Victor Hugo:
Be like the bird
Who, pausing in her flight
On limb too slight,
Feels it give way beneath her
Yet sings,
Knowing she hath wings.
That's the kind of singing I think I understand best right now.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
"What Keeps Us From Praying?"
I've been reading Richard Foster for the first time in a long while, doing some re-reading of chapters in his excellent book Prayer: Finding the Heart's True Home and also reading (for the first time) his small devotional book Seeking the Kingdom. Foster's long been a favorite of mine, but that doesn't mean his books make me comfortable. In fact, they often push me to reflect on my life in ways that reveal a lot of uncomfortable truths and areas that need the loving work of the Holy Spirit to change and heal.
I actually haven't been able to get past the very first devotional in Seeking the Kingdom, because there's so much to chew on in just those few pages. I'm still working on it, and letting it work on me. He asks the seemingly simple question: "What Keeps Us From Praying?" and suggests that it's not the outwardly obvious answer -- not enough time, too busy -- that's the most important answer. He points out that we don't let lack of time or busyness stop us from doing other necessary and important things, like eating or sleeping or making love (and let's be honest, most of us don't let lack of time and too much to do stop us from doing less essential things like watching t.v. or blogging, for instance!).
So: what keeps us from praying? Is there a lack of confidence that God is listening? A lack of trust or hope? A feeling that we're not "doing it right" or need to become better people with purer motives before we can approach God?
This has been a rich but sometimes painful question for me to grapple with, because I've been realizing that I have some real fears lurking right now -- about the call we're trying to discern, and our shaky life situation -- and that I sometimes act as though God is someone other than I know him to be, as though I'm afraid he is a hard taskmaster, one who's just out to ask me to be or do something that I don't want to be. I know better than this, from my own life with God in Christ and from the witness of the Scriptures. So why would I assume that God would only call me to something hard, or painful, or (and here's a big one) why would I assume that if God did call me to something difficult that he would not lovingly prepare and equip me to answer the call? Yes, he does sometimes call us to things we could never imagine for ourselves, and he sometimes calls us to give up even good things, but I know he is trustworthy and GOOD. I also know that he understands my human frailty and exhaustion, and that he knows my real deep needs for rest and refreshment. When the hard things come, they come with his permission and they come in the context of my relationship with Him. He uses them to shape me and in order to shape his Kingdom. That's the bottomline. And while I do know it with my head and with my heart, I've been realizing I am not always putting my trust into active practice...hence my prayers (their faintheartedness, their lack).
Foster is very helpful not only because he asks hard questions, but he gently suggests ways to begin to work through them. In this case, he suggests that we make a list of all the reasons that we don't pray, and then take that list to God. And what he doesn't say, but what you begin to realize as you follow the instructions of this spiritual exercise, is that by taking this honest list to God, by admitting your lacks and fears and hopes and everything else and laying those things at God's feet, you are indeed praying.
I actually haven't been able to get past the very first devotional in Seeking the Kingdom, because there's so much to chew on in just those few pages. I'm still working on it, and letting it work on me. He asks the seemingly simple question: "What Keeps Us From Praying?" and suggests that it's not the outwardly obvious answer -- not enough time, too busy -- that's the most important answer. He points out that we don't let lack of time or busyness stop us from doing other necessary and important things, like eating or sleeping or making love (and let's be honest, most of us don't let lack of time and too much to do stop us from doing less essential things like watching t.v. or blogging, for instance!).
So: what keeps us from praying? Is there a lack of confidence that God is listening? A lack of trust or hope? A feeling that we're not "doing it right" or need to become better people with purer motives before we can approach God?
This has been a rich but sometimes painful question for me to grapple with, because I've been realizing that I have some real fears lurking right now -- about the call we're trying to discern, and our shaky life situation -- and that I sometimes act as though God is someone other than I know him to be, as though I'm afraid he is a hard taskmaster, one who's just out to ask me to be or do something that I don't want to be. I know better than this, from my own life with God in Christ and from the witness of the Scriptures. So why would I assume that God would only call me to something hard, or painful, or (and here's a big one) why would I assume that if God did call me to something difficult that he would not lovingly prepare and equip me to answer the call? Yes, he does sometimes call us to things we could never imagine for ourselves, and he sometimes calls us to give up even good things, but I know he is trustworthy and GOOD. I also know that he understands my human frailty and exhaustion, and that he knows my real deep needs for rest and refreshment. When the hard things come, they come with his permission and they come in the context of my relationship with Him. He uses them to shape me and in order to shape his Kingdom. That's the bottomline. And while I do know it with my head and with my heart, I've been realizing I am not always putting my trust into active practice...hence my prayers (their faintheartedness, their lack).
Foster is very helpful not only because he asks hard questions, but he gently suggests ways to begin to work through them. In this case, he suggests that we make a list of all the reasons that we don't pray, and then take that list to God. And what he doesn't say, but what you begin to realize as you follow the instructions of this spiritual exercise, is that by taking this honest list to God, by admitting your lacks and fears and hopes and everything else and laying those things at God's feet, you are indeed praying.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Sycamores in springtime
I love spring. I've always been grateful I was born at the beginning of the spring season. One of the things I miss most, living in a small city with relatively few trees, is the sheer volume of green I remember from earlier springs in other places. But even here, I remind myself, there's so much to see and rejoice in -- including the eight sycamores across the road. I took this photo a couple of weeks ago, when the leaves were still tender and new. They're already starting to take on a fuller, summery look now, but I think I like them best in this tiny, unfurling stage. They remind me to hope.
My daughter loves the sycamores too. She likes to find small branches and twigs that have broken off them, which we call "syacmore wands." That's because she likes to play "sycamore fairy" and dance over to the tiny scrubby pine trees bordering the nearby parking lot (some small cedars and firs she's absolutely fascinated with, and has begun hugging each day). She takes her sycamore wand and gently touches the little trees in a gesture of beautiful benediction.
I really do love spring. My sprit's been feeling winter-weary for such a long time, in so many ways (and my body too). Thank God for new seasons, new growth, new life.
My daughter loves the sycamores too. She likes to find small branches and twigs that have broken off them, which we call "syacmore wands." That's because she likes to play "sycamore fairy" and dance over to the tiny scrubby pine trees bordering the nearby parking lot (some small cedars and firs she's absolutely fascinated with, and has begun hugging each day). She takes her sycamore wand and gently touches the little trees in a gesture of beautiful benediction. I really do love spring. My sprit's been feeling winter-weary for such a long time, in so many ways (and my body too). Thank God for new seasons, new growth, new life.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Pause for Poetry
"There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom."
~Li-Young Lee, "From Blossoms"
I read this lovely poem this morning, and thought this stanza especially apt right now -- both during the heady, blossoming days of spring, and just for the juicy kernel of truth at the heart of these lines. We do all have days, I think, even in the midst of hardship, suffering, heartache, where we forget for a moment the hold that death has on our world, and we enter into interludes of joy that are so tangible and real that they cause heartache of another kind ("What a beautiful piece of heartache/this has all turned out to be" to quote Over the Rhine). I think it's in those moments of moving from "joy to joy," "wing to wing," and "blossom to...sweet impossible blossom" that we live in a heightened knowledge of the reality that death and decay do NOT, praise God, have the final world in our lives and in the created world. Perhaps it is when we are most attuned to the in-breaking Kingdom that the world becomes lit up with a kind of holy light that enables us to see and rejoice rightly, whatever our outward circumstances.
At least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. :-)
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom."
~Li-Young Lee, "From Blossoms"
I read this lovely poem this morning, and thought this stanza especially apt right now -- both during the heady, blossoming days of spring, and just for the juicy kernel of truth at the heart of these lines. We do all have days, I think, even in the midst of hardship, suffering, heartache, where we forget for a moment the hold that death has on our world, and we enter into interludes of joy that are so tangible and real that they cause heartache of another kind ("What a beautiful piece of heartache/this has all turned out to be" to quote Over the Rhine). I think it's in those moments of moving from "joy to joy," "wing to wing," and "blossom to...sweet impossible blossom" that we live in a heightened knowledge of the reality that death and decay do NOT, praise God, have the final world in our lives and in the created world. Perhaps it is when we are most attuned to the in-breaking Kingdom that the world becomes lit up with a kind of holy light that enables us to see and rejoice rightly, whatever our outward circumstances.
At least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. :-)
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Protesting the Da Vinci Code: Try an "Othercott"
My friend Janet Batchler, a Christian and screenwriter whose wonderful blog can be found at www.quoththemaven.blogspot.com, has come up with a very fruitful idea for letting Hollywood know exactly how you feel about the Da Vinci Code film being released in May. Rather than trying to explain it myself, I'll repost her post here -- she's given permission for folks to do that, as she wants the word spread!
Read on, and plan to go to the movies in May!
********
From Janet:
May 19th is the date the Da Vinci Code movie opens. A movie based on a book that wears its heresy and blasphemy as a badge of honor. What can we as Christians do in response to the release of this movie? I'm going to offer you the usual choices -- and a new one. Here are the usual suspects:A) We can ignore the movie. ........The problem with this option: The box office is a ballot box. The only people whose votes are counted are those who buy tickets. If you stay home, you have lost your chance to make your vote heard. You do nothing to shape the decision-making process regarding what movies will make it to the big screen.B) We can protest. ........The problem with this option: It doesn't work. Any publicity is good publicity, after all. Protests not only fuel the box office, they make all Christians look like idiots. And again, protests and boycotts do nothing to help shape the decisions being made right now about what movies Hollywood should make (or shape the decisions away from what we might prefer).C) We can discuss the movie. We can be rational and be ready with study guides and workshops and point-by-point refutations of the lies promulgated by the movie. ........The problem with this option: No one's listening. They think they know what we're going to say already. And once again, nothing changes if this is the response we opt for.But there's a fourth choice.On May 19th, you should go to the movies. Just go to another movie.Save the date now. May 19th, or May 20th. No later than Sunday, May 21st -- that's the day the ballot box closes. You'll get a vote, the only vote Hollywood recognizes: The power of cold hard cash laid down on a box office window on opening weekend.Use your vote. Don't throw it away. Vote for a movie other than DVC. If enough people do it, the powers that be will notice. They won't have a choice.Right now there's only one other studio movie scheduled for release, the DreamWorks animated feature Over the Hedge. Based on the early trailers, my kids already want to see it. Let's all go see it. (Or another just-opened movie of your choice, pending the final release schedules.) Let's rock the box office in a way no one expects -- without protests, without boycotts, without arguments, without rancor. Let's show up at the box office ballot box and cast our votes. And buy some popcorn, too.May 19th. Spread the word. Post this on your own blog, send it to friends on your e-mail lists. And let's all go to the movies.
********
Read on, and plan to go to the movies in May!
********
From Janet:
May 19th is the date the Da Vinci Code movie opens. A movie based on a book that wears its heresy and blasphemy as a badge of honor. What can we as Christians do in response to the release of this movie? I'm going to offer you the usual choices -- and a new one. Here are the usual suspects:A) We can ignore the movie. ........The problem with this option: The box office is a ballot box. The only people whose votes are counted are those who buy tickets. If you stay home, you have lost your chance to make your vote heard. You do nothing to shape the decision-making process regarding what movies will make it to the big screen.B) We can protest. ........The problem with this option: It doesn't work. Any publicity is good publicity, after all. Protests not only fuel the box office, they make all Christians look like idiots. And again, protests and boycotts do nothing to help shape the decisions being made right now about what movies Hollywood should make (or shape the decisions away from what we might prefer).C) We can discuss the movie. We can be rational and be ready with study guides and workshops and point-by-point refutations of the lies promulgated by the movie. ........The problem with this option: No one's listening. They think they know what we're going to say already. And once again, nothing changes if this is the response we opt for.But there's a fourth choice.On May 19th, you should go to the movies. Just go to another movie.Save the date now. May 19th, or May 20th. No later than Sunday, May 21st -- that's the day the ballot box closes. You'll get a vote, the only vote Hollywood recognizes: The power of cold hard cash laid down on a box office window on opening weekend.Use your vote. Don't throw it away. Vote for a movie other than DVC. If enough people do it, the powers that be will notice. They won't have a choice.Right now there's only one other studio movie scheduled for release, the DreamWorks animated feature Over the Hedge. Based on the early trailers, my kids already want to see it. Let's all go see it. (Or another just-opened movie of your choice, pending the final release schedules.) Let's rock the box office in a way no one expects -- without protests, without boycotts, without arguments, without rancor. Let's show up at the box office ballot box and cast our votes. And buy some popcorn, too.May 19th. Spread the word. Post this on your own blog, send it to friends on your e-mail lists. And let's all go to the movies.
********
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Reading Round-Up, Spring Cleaning Version!
ETA:This post started on April 20th, but I'm just now getting around to posting it on April 25th! (It's our fourteenth wedding anniversary, by the way.) :-)
Well, I've given up trying to do any sort of reading round-up for March...who can remember March? Both the end of last month and the beginning of this one are blurring for me, as I'm far too busy and frankly, exhausted. The past two weeks have been especially difficult: I've been sick with sinus/cough (and it's taken a definite turn for the worst in the past few days so I've had to go on antiobiotics); I've begun my new half-time job as parish administrator at our church (trying very hard to remember all my former secretary skills -- who knew that one could forget years of professional skills and habits so quickly?); my sweet daughter has been struggling with my new schedule and with less time with Mommy and has been acting out her stress through some difficult behavior, especially with her Daddy (and I miss my mornings with her soooo much); and oh yes, I left taxes to the last minute and had to spend several late nights fighting through the craziness of self-employment schedules, etc. Have I left anything out? Well, yes. :-) Those things I listed are just the "biggies" -- all sorts of other things still crowd my days as well, including paper grading, house cleaning, feeble attempts at writing.
I'm feeling a real need of prayer time, significant, real prayer time, rather than hurried prayers of blessing and petition as I run frantically hither and yon. Don't get me wrong: hurried prayers are a lifeline sometimes, and I'm thankful for them. But I need time with God, time to just rest in his presence, time to bring before him some of the hurts in my own heart as well as the hurts of others. After not quite two weeks as chuch administrator, I am already feeling somewhat pummelled by the depth and breadth of need here in our tired little town. More on that later perhaps.
So, with all this going on, have I had any time for reading? You bet. Some nights I'm so wound up after a far too long day, there's no way I can sleep without reading for a while first. And I've had some other moments here and there in the past month where I've been able to cram in reading. I'm doing a good bit of what I call "fluff" reading (helps me in that unwinding process) but I'm also dipping my toes into some more serious stuff. So here's a brief list of what I've been dabbling in book-wise in the past few weeks, though in no particular order:
Dorothy Simpson murder mysteries. Anyone out there know her? I discovered her at a library book sale (all paperbacks ten cents!) and have been absolutely delighted to discover a new Agatha Christie type writer, albeit a bit more contemporary. She's really good at English "cozy" mysteries -- my favorite of the mystery genre. I think she wrote mostly in the 1980s and 1990s (though for all I know she may still be at it) and I love her detective Inspector Luke Thanet. Thus far I've read two books: The Night She Died and Puppet for a Corpse. Very creative.
Jan Karon. I feel like I owe Ms. Karon an apology. I read the first two books of her "Mitford series" about ten years ago, and pretty much ever since then, whenever someone would ask me if I liked them, I added all kinds of qualifiers. "Yes, although they're not really great literature." "Yes, they're so comforting and downhome, I feel like I'm curling up with a copy of 'Southern Living'." "Yes, they're especially good, light reading for when you have the flu." That sort of thing. And...well, there's still some truth in those sentiments, I must confess. But having read through several more books in the series in the past few months (including A New Song, A Common Life and In This Mountain most recently) I have a newfound respect for Karon's narrative art. She manages to capture "slices of life" and very human personalities in poignant ways; she doesn't hesitate to write like people talk and frankly, to write about what real people talk about in the ways they really talk about it (including faith...and let's face it, we don't always talk about our faith profoundly) and she manages to provide her characters and readers with a real sense of hope. In times like ours, I think that's especially valuable. I also think she grew as a writer through the series. I was most impressed with her ability and willingness to have beloved, jovial Fr. Tim, the main character of the books, suffer through the throes of major depression in In This Mountain. Yes, he comes out on the other side (and you want him to!) but it's not cliched and pat at all. And I frankly love some of her minor characters, who remind me a bit of Lake Woebegoners. I'm especially fond of Emma Newland, Hope Winchester, and the regulars who eat breakfast at the Grill on weekday mornings.
And a sidenote: when I started reading Karon ten years ago, I knew almost no evangelical Episcopalians. For the past almost 9 years, I've lived, worked, and prayed with LOTS of them. So now I know just how good Karon is at capturing that particular ethos.
Yikes -- I started this post five days ago and have yet to either post it, or write fully about what I'm reading (I've just covered some of the fluff here!). This is getting way too long, so I'll go on and post. More soon on other things I'm reading by Marva Dawn and Rodney Clapp, among others.
Well, I've given up trying to do any sort of reading round-up for March...who can remember March? Both the end of last month and the beginning of this one are blurring for me, as I'm far too busy and frankly, exhausted. The past two weeks have been especially difficult: I've been sick with sinus/cough (and it's taken a definite turn for the worst in the past few days so I've had to go on antiobiotics); I've begun my new half-time job as parish administrator at our church (trying very hard to remember all my former secretary skills -- who knew that one could forget years of professional skills and habits so quickly?); my sweet daughter has been struggling with my new schedule and with less time with Mommy and has been acting out her stress through some difficult behavior, especially with her Daddy (and I miss my mornings with her soooo much); and oh yes, I left taxes to the last minute and had to spend several late nights fighting through the craziness of self-employment schedules, etc. Have I left anything out? Well, yes. :-) Those things I listed are just the "biggies" -- all sorts of other things still crowd my days as well, including paper grading, house cleaning, feeble attempts at writing.
I'm feeling a real need of prayer time, significant, real prayer time, rather than hurried prayers of blessing and petition as I run frantically hither and yon. Don't get me wrong: hurried prayers are a lifeline sometimes, and I'm thankful for them. But I need time with God, time to just rest in his presence, time to bring before him some of the hurts in my own heart as well as the hurts of others. After not quite two weeks as chuch administrator, I am already feeling somewhat pummelled by the depth and breadth of need here in our tired little town. More on that later perhaps.
So, with all this going on, have I had any time for reading? You bet. Some nights I'm so wound up after a far too long day, there's no way I can sleep without reading for a while first. And I've had some other moments here and there in the past month where I've been able to cram in reading. I'm doing a good bit of what I call "fluff" reading (helps me in that unwinding process) but I'm also dipping my toes into some more serious stuff. So here's a brief list of what I've been dabbling in book-wise in the past few weeks, though in no particular order:
Dorothy Simpson murder mysteries. Anyone out there know her? I discovered her at a library book sale (all paperbacks ten cents!) and have been absolutely delighted to discover a new Agatha Christie type writer, albeit a bit more contemporary. She's really good at English "cozy" mysteries -- my favorite of the mystery genre. I think she wrote mostly in the 1980s and 1990s (though for all I know she may still be at it) and I love her detective Inspector Luke Thanet. Thus far I've read two books: The Night She Died and Puppet for a Corpse. Very creative.
Jan Karon. I feel like I owe Ms. Karon an apology. I read the first two books of her "Mitford series" about ten years ago, and pretty much ever since then, whenever someone would ask me if I liked them, I added all kinds of qualifiers. "Yes, although they're not really great literature." "Yes, they're so comforting and downhome, I feel like I'm curling up with a copy of 'Southern Living'." "Yes, they're especially good, light reading for when you have the flu." That sort of thing. And...well, there's still some truth in those sentiments, I must confess. But having read through several more books in the series in the past few months (including A New Song, A Common Life and In This Mountain most recently) I have a newfound respect for Karon's narrative art. She manages to capture "slices of life" and very human personalities in poignant ways; she doesn't hesitate to write like people talk and frankly, to write about what real people talk about in the ways they really talk about it (including faith...and let's face it, we don't always talk about our faith profoundly) and she manages to provide her characters and readers with a real sense of hope. In times like ours, I think that's especially valuable. I also think she grew as a writer through the series. I was most impressed with her ability and willingness to have beloved, jovial Fr. Tim, the main character of the books, suffer through the throes of major depression in In This Mountain. Yes, he comes out on the other side (and you want him to!) but it's not cliched and pat at all. And I frankly love some of her minor characters, who remind me a bit of Lake Woebegoners. I'm especially fond of Emma Newland, Hope Winchester, and the regulars who eat breakfast at the Grill on weekday mornings.
And a sidenote: when I started reading Karon ten years ago, I knew almost no evangelical Episcopalians. For the past almost 9 years, I've lived, worked, and prayed with LOTS of them. So now I know just how good Karon is at capturing that particular ethos.
Yikes -- I started this post five days ago and have yet to either post it, or write fully about what I'm reading (I've just covered some of the fluff here!). This is getting way too long, so I'll go on and post. More soon on other things I'm reading by Marva Dawn and Rodney Clapp, among others.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
"Death and Darkness, Get You Packing...!"
Alleluia! The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
"Let no one grieve at his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed. Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave. Let no one fear death, for the Death of our Savior has set us free. He has destroyed it by enduring it.
—John Chrysostom, bishop of Constantinople; sermon, ca. 400
Death and darkness, get you packing,
Nothing now to man is lacking,
All your triumphs now are ended,
And what Adam marred is mended.
- Henry Vaughan (1621-1695)
Hail thee, festival day!
Blessed day to be hallowed forever;
Day when our Lord was raised,
Breaking the kingdom of death.
Lo, the fair beauty of the earth,
From the death of the winter arising!
Every good gift of the year
Now with its Master returns.
Rise from the grave now, O Lord,
The author of life and creation.
Treading the pathway of death,
New life You give to us all.
Hail thee, festival day!
Blessed day to be hallowed forever;
Day when our Lord was raised,
Breaking the kingdom of death.
--Fortunatus (530-609) translated by Maurice F. Bell
"Let no one grieve at his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed. Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave. Let no one fear death, for the Death of our Savior has set us free. He has destroyed it by enduring it.
—John Chrysostom, bishop of Constantinople; sermon, ca. 400
Death and darkness, get you packing,
Nothing now to man is lacking,
All your triumphs now are ended,
And what Adam marred is mended.
- Henry Vaughan (1621-1695)
Hail thee, festival day!
Blessed day to be hallowed forever;
Day when our Lord was raised,
Breaking the kingdom of death.
Lo, the fair beauty of the earth,
From the death of the winter arising!
Every good gift of the year
Now with its Master returns.
Rise from the grave now, O Lord,
The author of life and creation.
Treading the pathway of death,
New life You give to us all.
Hail thee, festival day!
Blessed day to be hallowed forever;
Day when our Lord was raised,
Breaking the kingdom of death.
--Fortunatus (530-609) translated by Maurice F. Bell
Saturday, April 15, 2006
The Day In Between
I decided to walk into the office this morning...no, not working (at least not officially) but I had agreed to proctor some exams for the sister of a friend, who is taking some extension courses through her university. The church offices on a Saturday provide a quiet place for her to take the tests, and it gave me a marvelous opportunity to walk a good, long walk on a beautiful spring day.
I was almost stunned by the beauty. Did spring really arrive overnight, or have I been so tired and stressed all week long that I just hadn't noticed it coming? The trees are in early golden flowered leaf (especially the maples), the birds are singing, and there are flowers and flowering trees, purples, pinks, whites, yellows, almost everywhere. It looked like Easter had come a day early! Except that two churches along my route both still had wooden crosses swathed in black, reminding me (with a beautiful poignancy, since they stood near flowering trees) that we're still experiencing the day "in between."
I don't think we in the church really know what to do always with the day "in between" Good Friday and Easter. At least not most of the churches of which I've been a part. It's something of a blank day. As we follow along in the Gospel story, Jesus has died and is not yet risen. The disciples are in the dark, literally (hiding in locked rooms) and spiritually.
Perhaps it's a day to enter into that darkness a little -- to know in our depths the sorrow that His closest friends and followers must have felt the day after the cross. To know in our depths what it cost God to win us back to himself, what it cost Jesus to redeem us from our subjection to evil and to death.
Maybe that's why we're given Psalm 88 in the morning lectionary. I've always found this to be one of the saddest Psalms -- there seems to be no real hope, not even at the end when so many Psalms (even of deepest, most harrowing complaints and pain) leap into a ringing affirmation (even Psalm 22 moves into a trust song).
Yet today, reading it again, I was struck by these questions the Psalmist cries out in verses 10-12: "Dost thou work wonders for the dead? Do the shades rise up to praise thee? [Selah] Is thy steadfast love declared in the grave, or thy faithfulness in Abaddon? Are thy wonders known in the darkness, or thy saving help in the land of forgetfulness?"
When I read these on most days, I either read them (sadly) as somewhat rhetorical questions, or (on my better days) as heartrending cries of a lonely and broken heart, but still a heart not expecting to hear an answer.
What we know from the joyous truth of the resurrection we celebrate tomorrow, however, is that there is a resounding answer to these questions. The answer is YES! Jesus is the great YES! God's vindication of His son as he raises Him to new life is a YES! YES, God works wonders for the dead! YES, the shades will one day rise up to praise thee (along with everything else in all creation!) YES, God's steadfast love is declared...even in the grave! YES, God's wonders are known in the darkness (even of our own hearts and lives, even at the foot of a cross, even in locked rooms where we hide)! YES, God's saving help is known even in the land of forgetfulness (which is where most of us live so much of the time)!
May we never ever forget, Lord, the love that took you to that cross. May we never cease to praise and thank you for that love. May we never cease to marvel at how close death and life, sorrow and joy, really are. May we worship and adore you as our scarred and risen King.
I was almost stunned by the beauty. Did spring really arrive overnight, or have I been so tired and stressed all week long that I just hadn't noticed it coming? The trees are in early golden flowered leaf (especially the maples), the birds are singing, and there are flowers and flowering trees, purples, pinks, whites, yellows, almost everywhere. It looked like Easter had come a day early! Except that two churches along my route both still had wooden crosses swathed in black, reminding me (with a beautiful poignancy, since they stood near flowering trees) that we're still experiencing the day "in between."
I don't think we in the church really know what to do always with the day "in between" Good Friday and Easter. At least not most of the churches of which I've been a part. It's something of a blank day. As we follow along in the Gospel story, Jesus has died and is not yet risen. The disciples are in the dark, literally (hiding in locked rooms) and spiritually.
Perhaps it's a day to enter into that darkness a little -- to know in our depths the sorrow that His closest friends and followers must have felt the day after the cross. To know in our depths what it cost God to win us back to himself, what it cost Jesus to redeem us from our subjection to evil and to death.
Maybe that's why we're given Psalm 88 in the morning lectionary. I've always found this to be one of the saddest Psalms -- there seems to be no real hope, not even at the end when so many Psalms (even of deepest, most harrowing complaints and pain) leap into a ringing affirmation (even Psalm 22 moves into a trust song).
Yet today, reading it again, I was struck by these questions the Psalmist cries out in verses 10-12: "Dost thou work wonders for the dead? Do the shades rise up to praise thee? [Selah] Is thy steadfast love declared in the grave, or thy faithfulness in Abaddon? Are thy wonders known in the darkness, or thy saving help in the land of forgetfulness?"
When I read these on most days, I either read them (sadly) as somewhat rhetorical questions, or (on my better days) as heartrending cries of a lonely and broken heart, but still a heart not expecting to hear an answer.
What we know from the joyous truth of the resurrection we celebrate tomorrow, however, is that there is a resounding answer to these questions. The answer is YES! Jesus is the great YES! God's vindication of His son as he raises Him to new life is a YES! YES, God works wonders for the dead! YES, the shades will one day rise up to praise thee (along with everything else in all creation!) YES, God's steadfast love is declared...even in the grave! YES, God's wonders are known in the darkness (even of our own hearts and lives, even at the foot of a cross, even in locked rooms where we hide)! YES, God's saving help is known even in the land of forgetfulness (which is where most of us live so much of the time)!
May we never ever forget, Lord, the love that took you to that cross. May we never cease to praise and thank you for that love. May we never cease to marvel at how close death and life, sorrow and joy, really are. May we worship and adore you as our scarred and risen King.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Why This Friday is so Good
"The other gods were strong; but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone."
--Edward Shillito, from "Jesus of the Scars"
What a beautiful poem, and what a beautiful truth. And written by a man who knew the horrors of World War I and knew how badly indeed the world can wound us.
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone."
--Edward Shillito, from "Jesus of the Scars"
What a beautiful poem, and what a beautiful truth. And written by a man who knew the horrors of World War I and knew how badly indeed the world can wound us.
Friday, April 07, 2006
A few more poetry "life/lines"
More lines of poetry keep coming to me:
"Hope is the thing with feathers/that perches in the soul..."
"When despair for the world grows in me..."
"He counted every snowflake as it fell..."
"I shall arise and go now, and go to Innisfree"
"I took the road less traveled by and that has made all the difference"
"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds"
"Little Lamb, who made thee?"
"I who have died am alive again today"
"Hope is the thing with feathers/that perches in the soul..."
"When despair for the world grows in me..."
"He counted every snowflake as it fell..."
"I shall arise and go now, and go to Innisfree"
"I took the road less traveled by and that has made all the difference"
"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds"
"Little Lamb, who made thee?"
"I who have died am alive again today"
National Poetry Month
Tired from a too long day, I'm jangling
with bumblebuzz of Irish Breakfast tea...
yep! past midnight and I'm blogging again!
******
April may be "the cruelest month" but here's one lovely thing to remember: it's also National Poetry Month. Check out www.poets.org for all kinds of goodies.
I spent a few minutes on the site this evening, trying to unwind, and found out about a wonderful project called "Life/Lines." Poets and readers send in lines of poetry that mean something to them, lines they've suddenly recalled or that they've found lodged in their hearts for years. Brief reflections on why those certain lines of poetry stick with them are included. The project's ongoing -- apparently anyone can send in their favorite lines of poetry.
I'm too tired to think properly, but here are a few favorite lines that come to me now as I let my mind wander...(these are just as they come to me; I can't vouch for accuracy of punctuation or line breaks).
"Lord, send my roots rain."
"They also serve who only stand and wait." (This one was submitted by someone else on the site; it's long been a favorite of mine too.)
"Nature's first green is gold"
"Getting and spending we lay waste our powers"
"I shall be the gladdest thing under the sun!"
"I saw eternity the other night, like a great ring of pure and endless light"
"That never was America to me"
Interesting what pops up when you're tired! More soon...and I'll identify all poets later too (if anyone wants to guess or knows who they are, feel free!).
with bumblebuzz of Irish Breakfast tea...
yep! past midnight and I'm blogging again!
******
April may be "the cruelest month" but here's one lovely thing to remember: it's also National Poetry Month. Check out www.poets.org for all kinds of goodies.
I spent a few minutes on the site this evening, trying to unwind, and found out about a wonderful project called "Life/Lines." Poets and readers send in lines of poetry that mean something to them, lines they've suddenly recalled or that they've found lodged in their hearts for years. Brief reflections on why those certain lines of poetry stick with them are included. The project's ongoing -- apparently anyone can send in their favorite lines of poetry.
I'm too tired to think properly, but here are a few favorite lines that come to me now as I let my mind wander...(these are just as they come to me; I can't vouch for accuracy of punctuation or line breaks).
"Lord, send my roots rain."
"They also serve who only stand and wait." (This one was submitted by someone else on the site; it's long been a favorite of mine too.)
"Nature's first green is gold"
"Getting and spending we lay waste our powers"
"I shall be the gladdest thing under the sun!"
"I saw eternity the other night, like a great ring of pure and endless light"
"That never was America to me"
Interesting what pops up when you're tired! More soon...and I'll identify all poets later too (if anyone wants to guess or knows who they are, feel free!).
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Bread and...Hyacinths!
This is just too wonderful and funny.
Just a few hours after I posted my long, rambling post below (see "Bread and Roses") I found this amazing little poem on another blog:
If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.
- Saadi (a Persian poet)
Doesn't this just capture the heart of my ramblings?
By the way, it was posted at www.acircleofquiet.blogspot.com -- an absolutely lovely blog. I check it about 2-3 times a month. I don't know the woman who writes it; it's a treasure I found a few months ago, linking from the blog of a friend of a friend of a friend, I think. Although I don't know her, her site often blesses my life and provides me with moments of beauty (some of the "imagined roses" I mentioned before). Isn't it great...the internet can indeed be a means of transmitting good and gracious things!
Just a few hours after I posted my long, rambling post below (see "Bread and Roses") I found this amazing little poem on another blog:
If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.
- Saadi (a Persian poet)
Doesn't this just capture the heart of my ramblings?
By the way, it was posted at www.acircleofquiet.blogspot.com -- an absolutely lovely blog. I check it about 2-3 times a month. I don't know the woman who writes it; it's a treasure I found a few months ago, linking from the blog of a friend of a friend of a friend, I think. Although I don't know her, her site often blesses my life and provides me with moments of beauty (some of the "imagined roses" I mentioned before). Isn't it great...the internet can indeed be a means of transmitting good and gracious things!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Bread and Roses
I usually write a "round-up" of the previous month during the first week of the new month, but frankly I've been too tired (and a bit too scatterbrained) to contemplate that posting. Maybe soon. Life is gearing up to be interesting for a while, as I'm taking on a new, half-time job outside the house. It's the first time I will have worked outside the home at all since Sarah was not quite 2 -- in other words, half her life ago. So we've all got big adjustments coming. I'm wishing I didn't have to do this, but I'm also grateful God is providing something for our family -- and I'm trying to be willing to do what needs to be done as he provides.
One of the adjustments I forsee is less time to read and write -- between new work hours during the day, continued work I need to do at night (both as a t.a. and in course development for the course I'll be teaching online next fall) and perhaps most importantly, trying to be as attentive and truly present as I can in the fewer waking hours I'll have with my little girl (not to mention regular "stuff" like ongoing household tasks and -- oh yes! eating! prayer! sleep!) I just can't see how I'm going to carve much of a slice out of that pie to dedicate to writing projects. Once again, I'm faced with the dilemma of having creative fire burning in my bones/longing to flesh out ideas into stories, poems and articles/wanting to use this gift and valuing the gift in and of itself -- and yet being forced to put it low, low on the priority list because it's not "productive" and doesn't help my family economically. I've been here many times in my life, but for some reason being faced with yet one more season of consciously having to push writing into the cracks and crevices of my life hurts a lot more this time around. Maybe because I just had a birthday so am feeling more aware of the swift passing of time. Maybe because the older I get, the more I feel I have to say and the more I long to find ways to say it through story. How ironic that the time periods of my life when I had more time and space to write, I didn't have nearly as much in me that longed to be written.
A week or so ago I read an interesting little book by Jill Paton Walsh, a short novel for middle grade readers called The Green Book. It's fantasy (and sort of rudimentary science fiction) about a family being sent with a small group of other people to colonize a new planet, since earth is dying. This family, a single dad and his three children, are told they must pack light. Each of them may bring one book and one book only. The father agonizes because he longs to bring a Complete Shakespeare but realizes that he needs to bring a book on technology instead, if he's going to help the colony in the new world. He lets each of his children make their own selection without his input, and their choices (and those of the other group members) are interesting, to say the least! When they all realize (after they're onboard the spaceship taking them to their new home) that the youngest child has brought along a blank book (the "green book" of the title) they're dismayed because they think she's made an unwise, even foolish choice. But it turns out to be a creative choice; one that the whole community values once they realize the child has been writing down the stories of the new community/colony. No one else had thought to do that.
I thought about entitling this posting "what book would you choose?" because I'm still genuinely curious to know what other people might pick if you could only pick one book in the world to take with you on a long journey without any real prospect of finding more books where you're arriving. I'm going to presuppose that you could take a Bible, or that the community would have a Bible; otherwise (for Christians at least) the question would be a "no brainer." What one book -- besides the Bible -- would you choose to take? I'm still not sure of my own answer. I think the Complete Shakespeare would be a good choice, actually, or the Complete Austen or the Complete Dickens. Although maybe the "complete" idea is a bit of a cop-out. Any takers here? I'd love to hear some ideas!
But the more I think about it, the aspect of Walsh's story that fascinates me most is that agonizing decision the Dad makes, to choose the "practical" book on technology (needed, productive) instead of the book that feeds the spirit in more intangible ways. How often we think of our more practical, physical needs first -- and I'm not saying that's a bad thing in and of itself, it's just a necessity because we're embodied, physical creatures. But we're so much more than just our bodies. It reminds me of that old workers' song "Bread and Roses" that talks of people's need for both bodily, physical sustenance and for beauty. How often do we have to choose bread and not roses in our daily existence? Most of the time, it seems to me. I also find myself painfully aware that, for a lot of people in our world, the choice between bread and roses isn't even a choice, because they don't have either one. And that should not be.
I know all this may sound a bit simplistic, but it's working on a soul level for me tonight. Bread and roses are more entertwined than we might think, because we human beings are entertwined, made up of body, mind, soul, spirit. Having really struggled with poverty in the past couple of years (although thankfully we've had family to help) one lesson I've learned is that poor people need and deserve good things and beauty as much as anyone else. So often what we give them is our castoffs, our broken and used things; our generic and less healthy food items go into the food pantry box, our faded and somewhat stained clothing goes to the vets, our toys with missing pieces go to the local children's home. Sometime again, when we're not counting every penny and still coming up short, I want to remember this lesson and give someone poor something that they need...on more than one level. Something beautiful as well as practical. Something new.
And as for now, I feel like I'm being asked to make a choice about how to apportion my time, and in some ways I'm having to weight that choice heavily toward practical considerations -- i.e. bread. Which means less time for roses. But I'll survive, and somehow I'll find some time in there somewhere for roses, real or imagined. At least that's my hope.
One of the adjustments I forsee is less time to read and write -- between new work hours during the day, continued work I need to do at night (both as a t.a. and in course development for the course I'll be teaching online next fall) and perhaps most importantly, trying to be as attentive and truly present as I can in the fewer waking hours I'll have with my little girl (not to mention regular "stuff" like ongoing household tasks and -- oh yes! eating! prayer! sleep!) I just can't see how I'm going to carve much of a slice out of that pie to dedicate to writing projects. Once again, I'm faced with the dilemma of having creative fire burning in my bones/longing to flesh out ideas into stories, poems and articles/wanting to use this gift and valuing the gift in and of itself -- and yet being forced to put it low, low on the priority list because it's not "productive" and doesn't help my family economically. I've been here many times in my life, but for some reason being faced with yet one more season of consciously having to push writing into the cracks and crevices of my life hurts a lot more this time around. Maybe because I just had a birthday so am feeling more aware of the swift passing of time. Maybe because the older I get, the more I feel I have to say and the more I long to find ways to say it through story. How ironic that the time periods of my life when I had more time and space to write, I didn't have nearly as much in me that longed to be written.
A week or so ago I read an interesting little book by Jill Paton Walsh, a short novel for middle grade readers called The Green Book. It's fantasy (and sort of rudimentary science fiction) about a family being sent with a small group of other people to colonize a new planet, since earth is dying. This family, a single dad and his three children, are told they must pack light. Each of them may bring one book and one book only. The father agonizes because he longs to bring a Complete Shakespeare but realizes that he needs to bring a book on technology instead, if he's going to help the colony in the new world. He lets each of his children make their own selection without his input, and their choices (and those of the other group members) are interesting, to say the least! When they all realize (after they're onboard the spaceship taking them to their new home) that the youngest child has brought along a blank book (the "green book" of the title) they're dismayed because they think she's made an unwise, even foolish choice. But it turns out to be a creative choice; one that the whole community values once they realize the child has been writing down the stories of the new community/colony. No one else had thought to do that.
I thought about entitling this posting "what book would you choose?" because I'm still genuinely curious to know what other people might pick if you could only pick one book in the world to take with you on a long journey without any real prospect of finding more books where you're arriving. I'm going to presuppose that you could take a Bible, or that the community would have a Bible; otherwise (for Christians at least) the question would be a "no brainer." What one book -- besides the Bible -- would you choose to take? I'm still not sure of my own answer. I think the Complete Shakespeare would be a good choice, actually, or the Complete Austen or the Complete Dickens. Although maybe the "complete" idea is a bit of a cop-out. Any takers here? I'd love to hear some ideas!
But the more I think about it, the aspect of Walsh's story that fascinates me most is that agonizing decision the Dad makes, to choose the "practical" book on technology (needed, productive) instead of the book that feeds the spirit in more intangible ways. How often we think of our more practical, physical needs first -- and I'm not saying that's a bad thing in and of itself, it's just a necessity because we're embodied, physical creatures. But we're so much more than just our bodies. It reminds me of that old workers' song "Bread and Roses" that talks of people's need for both bodily, physical sustenance and for beauty. How often do we have to choose bread and not roses in our daily existence? Most of the time, it seems to me. I also find myself painfully aware that, for a lot of people in our world, the choice between bread and roses isn't even a choice, because they don't have either one. And that should not be.
I know all this may sound a bit simplistic, but it's working on a soul level for me tonight. Bread and roses are more entertwined than we might think, because we human beings are entertwined, made up of body, mind, soul, spirit. Having really struggled with poverty in the past couple of years (although thankfully we've had family to help) one lesson I've learned is that poor people need and deserve good things and beauty as much as anyone else. So often what we give them is our castoffs, our broken and used things; our generic and less healthy food items go into the food pantry box, our faded and somewhat stained clothing goes to the vets, our toys with missing pieces go to the local children's home. Sometime again, when we're not counting every penny and still coming up short, I want to remember this lesson and give someone poor something that they need...on more than one level. Something beautiful as well as practical. Something new.
And as for now, I feel like I'm being asked to make a choice about how to apportion my time, and in some ways I'm having to weight that choice heavily toward practical considerations -- i.e. bread. Which means less time for roses. But I'll survive, and somehow I'll find some time in there somewhere for roses, real or imagined. At least that's my hope.
Monday, April 03, 2006
"The Weight of All My Dreams..."
I've not posted much this past week, and doubt I'll have much chance to in the coming week either. Having to let go of some things right now in a quest to survive and to not give in under the weight of some tremendous stress.
It's not quite Holy week yet, but I think God might be preparing me to walk a passion kind of road. It's hard.
Needing to flee to the life of Jesus. Needing to rest in his arms.
A pause for poetry in the midst of everything. This from W.B. Yeats.
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
It's not quite Holy week yet, but I think God might be preparing me to walk a passion kind of road. It's hard.
Needing to flee to the life of Jesus. Needing to rest in his arms.
A pause for poetry in the midst of everything. This from W.B. Yeats.
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
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