Ephesians 5:20 speaks of, "giving thanks always for all things to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ" . It struck me this morning that I take most of my life for granted, never stopping to give thanks to the "Giver of all good and perfect gifts" . Most days, I have a particularly ungrateful, covetous spirit, and exist oblivious to the beauty, riches, and blessing around me. So, for today, I want to open my encrusted eyes and try to be grateful rather than ungodly. What follows will be a rambling, random list of the things I am grateful to God for. I will update the list as things come to my mind.
My wise, Spirit-led, God fearing, patient, loving, Husband
Five beautiful healthy children
Our beautiful home ... a dream come true
A roof that does not leak
Lovely warm heat
Hot showers
Lamp light to read by
Lots of food...never seeing my children hungry
Books, books, and more books
A husband who talks to me about interesting things...like foreign policy and diplomacy
Wooden toys
Children who are reading
Light filtering through panels of lace
Coffee all the time with my very best friend
A sick little raspy voice saying I love you in the night
A dining room color that makes me happy
Blue Nordic tea cups used every morning
Membership to the High Museum
A porch swing
My Down comforter
Boot cut blue jeans
A massive, rugged oak dining table that makes me happy every time I see it
My awesome washer and dryer
Butterflies on my kids ceilings
Beautiful quilts
A lovely, working, car
Windows everywhere
My husbands briefcase...I just really like it :)
Family we love
Clothes I like for my family
Petite Cheri perfume
A big kitchen
Fat babies
A yard my children love to play in
Jammie rides for ice cream
A blog to write
Magnolia, oak, and sugar maples snug against my house
A husband who likes to hold me during football games
Legos
Radio Flyer bikes
Our guitar
Hobbit breakfasts
Sushi whenever I ask
My sewing machine
Smoothies
Gap Maternity clothes
A family that hugs each other all the time
High ceilings, wood floors, and thick mouldings
Japanese Literati paintings on my screen saver
Drives to nowhere in particular
The perfect coffee table
Wool coats, scarves, and hats
Medicine
A precious little girl who survived a horrible fall
My engagement ring
Bourne Identity and Bourne Supremacy...mine to own
Narnia...the anniversary edition and the audio books!
Two wonderful girls who bless me by cleaning my house once a week
Two funny fish and a sleepy cat
Hot chocolate much more than we should!
Red velvet damask at a yard sale for a dollar
Chenille throw blankets
Glass bead necklaces made by little girls
Robert Frost's poetry
DSL
Starbucks
My grandmother's tea pot
Bitty Baby dolls
Twinkling Christmas lights
Children who ask, "how many days till Christmas?" every morning
18 cousins for my children within 1/4 mile
The ability to splurge at Whole Foods Market...olives...chocolate...cheese!
Traditions like autumn pumpkins, mountain apples, and eggnog lattes, and champagne with Chinese food...(don't ask !)
Monday, December 12, 2005
Friday, December 09, 2005
True confession of a Pumpkin...
I tried. I really did. For five long days I have been angelic, but finally I succumbed. How can I try to abstain from dairy, when every time I open the refrigerator door, a round, ripe wheel of Brie stares me in the face. I confess...it was more than I could endure...I cut a wedge.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Feeding on His faithfulness...
I keep finding myself returning to the fact that simple, faithful work is far more productive than highly scheduled, minutely detailed master plans. Planning and tools have their legitimate places, but usually what I really need is to prayerfully, consistently, work.
All my listing, planning, and scheduling is usually an excuse not to roll up my sleeves and accomplish what my spirit already knows. I would rather plan the perfect and grand than accomplish the seemingly mundane, fruitless, and repetitive. But that is not what God in His wisdom chooses to bless.
True, I might not have the money to finish remodeling my kitchen, but all God asks of me is to prayerfully put the little I have aside, one small bit at a time. True, I can not get my baby sleeping through the night in one day, but I can faithfully adhere to his routine one "insignificant" hour at a time. I can not get my children reading in a week, but I can fit a fifteen minute lesson in every day. I can not "determine" never to have my husband pick up dinner again, but I can faithfully prioritize one "inconvenient" meal at a time. I can not have perfectly trained children overnight, but I can lovingly, consistently train them one "mundane" moment at a time.
God calls me to work, obedience, and consistency...trusting all the while that He (not I ) will produce the peaceful fruit of righteousness. My job is not to aim for pleasure, fulfillment, and possessions. Rather, I am to work in faith know that God promises to meet all these desires when I am "dwelling in the land and feeding on His faithfulness".
All my listing, planning, and scheduling is usually an excuse not to roll up my sleeves and accomplish what my spirit already knows. I would rather plan the perfect and grand than accomplish the seemingly mundane, fruitless, and repetitive. But that is not what God in His wisdom chooses to bless.
True, I might not have the money to finish remodeling my kitchen, but all God asks of me is to prayerfully put the little I have aside, one small bit at a time. True, I can not get my baby sleeping through the night in one day, but I can faithfully adhere to his routine one "insignificant" hour at a time. I can not get my children reading in a week, but I can fit a fifteen minute lesson in every day. I can not "determine" never to have my husband pick up dinner again, but I can faithfully prioritize one "inconvenient" meal at a time. I can not have perfectly trained children overnight, but I can lovingly, consistently train them one "mundane" moment at a time.
God calls me to work, obedience, and consistency...trusting all the while that He (not I ) will produce the peaceful fruit of righteousness. My job is not to aim for pleasure, fulfillment, and possessions. Rather, I am to work in faith know that God promises to meet all these desires when I am "dwelling in the land and feeding on His faithfulness".
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Crumbling Castles
I read the following passage in Francis Bacon's The New Organon last night, and it set me thinking about the idea that truth has nothing to fear, and the miring effect fear has had upon the Christian Church. I find Bacon's depiction of philosophical/theological fear very applicable to modern Christendom.
"For the studies of men in these places are confined and as it were imprisoned in the writings of certain authors, from whom if any man dissent he is straightway arraigned as a turbulent person and an innovator...
Moreover, as things now are, to discourse of nature is made harder and more perilous by the summaries and systems of the schoolmen who, having reduced theology into regular order as well as they were able, and fashioned it into the shape of an art, ended in incorporating the contentious and thorny philosophy of Aristotle, more than was fit, with the body of religion....you will find that by the simpleness of certain divines, access to any philosophy, however pure, is well-nigh closed. Some are weakly afraid lest a deeper search into nature should transgress the permitted limits of sober-mindedness, wrongfully wresting and transferring what is said in Holy Writ against those who pry into sacred mysteries, to the hidden things of nature, which are barred by no prohibition. Others with more subtlety surmise and reflect that if second causes are unknown everything can more readily be referred to the divine hand and rod, a point in which they think religion greatly concerned — which is in fact nothing else but to seek to gratify God with a lie. Others fear from past example that movements and changes in philosophy will end in assaults on religion. And others again appear apprehensive that in the investigation of nature something may be found to subvert or at least shake the authority of religion, especially with the unlearned. But these two last fears seem to me to savor utterly of carnal wisdom; as if men in the recesses and secret thought of their hearts doubted and distrusted the strength of religion and the empire of faith over the sense, and therefore feared that the investigation of truth in nature might be dangerous to them. But if the matter be truly considered, natural philosophy is, after the word of God, at once the surest medicine against superstition and the most approved nourishment for faith, and therefore she is rightly given to religion as her most faithful handmaid, since the one displays the will of God, the other his power."
How often does the church hold itself back from abundant growth and powerful shaping of culture by its fear? Secret fear, in the recesses of our hearts, that if we let go of one piece of the card castle it will lay ruined at our feet. Fear that delving deeper will disintegrate our faith. Fear that our "summaries and systems" just might not be the sum total of all truth that we subconciously believe them to be. Fear that our faith is not really unshakable.
Why is the Church not a vital catalyst in the shaping and growth of culture? Why does our faith seem irelevant to desperate, hurting people? Why does the Church appear culturally impotent? Because many (myself included) are bound by fear and pride. We idolize our systems and structures, and in doing so often become stagnant, obsolete, and irrelevant. We feel safe within our castles of cards. Pride creeps in unnoticed and we grow secure. We are in control, we know how God works. But as 1 Cor. 10:12 says, "Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall."
By no means am I advocating disrespect and disregard for the rich heritage that has preceded the Modern Church. Rather, I echo Paul's concern," Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ." (Col.2:8)
We take refuge in theologies, in dichotomies, in self-imposed traditions. "These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom in self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh." (Col.2:23)
The world sees through us. We do not, but they do. Never fear...they see.
"For the studies of men in these places are confined and as it were imprisoned in the writings of certain authors, from whom if any man dissent he is straightway arraigned as a turbulent person and an innovator...
Moreover, as things now are, to discourse of nature is made harder and more perilous by the summaries and systems of the schoolmen who, having reduced theology into regular order as well as they were able, and fashioned it into the shape of an art, ended in incorporating the contentious and thorny philosophy of Aristotle, more than was fit, with the body of religion....you will find that by the simpleness of certain divines, access to any philosophy, however pure, is well-nigh closed. Some are weakly afraid lest a deeper search into nature should transgress the permitted limits of sober-mindedness, wrongfully wresting and transferring what is said in Holy Writ against those who pry into sacred mysteries, to the hidden things of nature, which are barred by no prohibition. Others with more subtlety surmise and reflect that if second causes are unknown everything can more readily be referred to the divine hand and rod, a point in which they think religion greatly concerned — which is in fact nothing else but to seek to gratify God with a lie. Others fear from past example that movements and changes in philosophy will end in assaults on religion. And others again appear apprehensive that in the investigation of nature something may be found to subvert or at least shake the authority of religion, especially with the unlearned. But these two last fears seem to me to savor utterly of carnal wisdom; as if men in the recesses and secret thought of their hearts doubted and distrusted the strength of religion and the empire of faith over the sense, and therefore feared that the investigation of truth in nature might be dangerous to them. But if the matter be truly considered, natural philosophy is, after the word of God, at once the surest medicine against superstition and the most approved nourishment for faith, and therefore she is rightly given to religion as her most faithful handmaid, since the one displays the will of God, the other his power."
How often does the church hold itself back from abundant growth and powerful shaping of culture by its fear? Secret fear, in the recesses of our hearts, that if we let go of one piece of the card castle it will lay ruined at our feet. Fear that delving deeper will disintegrate our faith. Fear that our "summaries and systems" just might not be the sum total of all truth that we subconciously believe them to be. Fear that our faith is not really unshakable.
Why is the Church not a vital catalyst in the shaping and growth of culture? Why does our faith seem irelevant to desperate, hurting people? Why does the Church appear culturally impotent? Because many (myself included) are bound by fear and pride. We idolize our systems and structures, and in doing so often become stagnant, obsolete, and irrelevant. We feel safe within our castles of cards. Pride creeps in unnoticed and we grow secure. We are in control, we know how God works. But as 1 Cor. 10:12 says, "Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall."
By no means am I advocating disrespect and disregard for the rich heritage that has preceded the Modern Church. Rather, I echo Paul's concern," Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ." (Col.2:8)
We take refuge in theologies, in dichotomies, in self-imposed traditions. "These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom in self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh." (Col.2:23)
The world sees through us. We do not, but they do. Never fear...they see.
Interesting etymology
I was just having a late night muse and googled the etymelogical definitions of "control" and "submit". Interesting huh...
Control:c.1310, "to check, verify, regulate," from Anglo-Norm. contreroller "exert authority," from M.L. contrarotulus "a counter, register," from L. contra- "against" + rotulus, dim. of rota "wheel" (see roll). From a medieval method of checking accounts by a duplicate register. Sense of "dominate, direct" is c.1450.
Submit:
c.1374, "to place (oneself) under the control of another," from L. submittere "to yield, lower, let down, put under, reduce," from sub "under" + mittere "let go, send." Sense of "refer to another for consideration" first recorded 1560.
Control:c.1310, "to check, verify, regulate," from Anglo-Norm. contreroller "exert authority," from M.L. contrarotulus "a counter, register," from L. contra- "against" + rotulus, dim. of rota "wheel" (see roll). From a medieval method of checking accounts by a duplicate register. Sense of "dominate, direct" is c.1450.
Submit:
c.1374, "to place (oneself) under the control of another," from L. submittere "to yield, lower, let down, put under, reduce," from sub "under" + mittere "let go, send." Sense of "refer to another for consideration" first recorded 1560.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Friday, December 02, 2005
Hmm...no post in a while
Hmmm....no post in a while...Thanksgiving, a nasty stomach virus times five, post virus laundry...you know the drill, and if you don't you are better off not asking :).
So, what thoughts have rumbled through my head these past few weeks?
1) The frightening effects of existentialist thought, and wishing I could do something to rip it out of the fabric of modern culture. How on earth does one combat 200 years of warped thinking? I guess with 200 years of truth. Thankfully,
the Word of God is sharper than any two edged sword, and able to break the Cedars of Lebanon.
2) Why is it so hard to be objective about life? I am praying to have God's view of life and not my own.
3) Extreme thankfulness for the husband God has blessed me with. (Sorry, but this falls under the heading of Thoughts in My Head! ) I am more and more grateful to God for my best friend every day.
4) Crying out for the strength to be faithful in the little things...and the grace to trust God in the big.
5) Happiness that the the city where I live puts a huge, twinkly, Christmas star on the telephone pole in my front yard. There is nothing like jammied toddlers starry-eyed with wonder!
So, what thoughts have rumbled through my head these past few weeks?
1) The frightening effects of existentialist thought, and wishing I could do something to rip it out of the fabric of modern culture. How on earth does one combat 200 years of warped thinking? I guess with 200 years of truth. Thankfully,
the Word of God is sharper than any two edged sword, and able to break the Cedars of Lebanon.
2) Why is it so hard to be objective about life? I am praying to have God's view of life and not my own.
3) Extreme thankfulness for the husband God has blessed me with. (Sorry, but this falls under the heading of Thoughts in My Head! ) I am more and more grateful to God for my best friend every day.
4) Crying out for the strength to be faithful in the little things...and the grace to trust God in the big.
5) Happiness that the the city where I live puts a huge, twinkly, Christmas star on the telephone pole in my front yard. There is nothing like jammied toddlers starry-eyed with wonder!
Friday, November 18, 2005
Mysterious disappearance
So, barring the "Nemo complex", really...how does a fish disappear from a tank with no bodily remains to be found? One of life's inexplicable mysteries...
Monday, November 14, 2005
"The Lord weighs the hearts..."
"Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but the Lord weighs the hearts." (Pr. 21:2)
"There is a way which seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death." (Pr. 14:12)
How is it that I can feel so perfectly right about something, so completely justified, and yet know that I am wrong? I know that I am wrong because my heart condemns me. I know I am wrong because my spirit accuses me. I know I am wrong because destruction is born of my "rightness"...not life. I know that I am wrong.
'"For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
Nor are your ways My ways," says the Lord.
"For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways,
And My thoughts higher than your thoughts."'
(Isaiah 55:8-9)
David was not always right or perfect, and yet, God of all heaven and earth chose to call him, " a man after God's own heart". Was David always right? Was he always perfect? Was he always justified? No. But. He was a man who cared about the Heart of God. He thirsted not for legalistic obedience, but for God Himself. He passionately longed to know the heart of God. He stumbled and fell, but he rose again and again and went running back to the heart of God.
Lord, keep me from being "right" in my own eyes, for in the end it is the way of death. Give me the strength to follow Your ways and not my own.
"There is a way which seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death." (Pr. 14:12)
How is it that I can feel so perfectly right about something, so completely justified, and yet know that I am wrong? I know that I am wrong because my heart condemns me. I know I am wrong because my spirit accuses me. I know I am wrong because destruction is born of my "rightness"...not life. I know that I am wrong.
'"For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
Nor are your ways My ways," says the Lord.
"For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways,
And My thoughts higher than your thoughts."'
(Isaiah 55:8-9)
David was not always right or perfect, and yet, God of all heaven and earth chose to call him, " a man after God's own heart". Was David always right? Was he always perfect? Was he always justified? No. But. He was a man who cared about the Heart of God. He thirsted not for legalistic obedience, but for God Himself. He passionately longed to know the heart of God. He stumbled and fell, but he rose again and again and went running back to the heart of God.
Lord, keep me from being "right" in my own eyes, for in the end it is the way of death. Give me the strength to follow Your ways and not my own.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Humanness
Last night after reading in the Abolition of Man, I found myself reveling in all that was distinctly human. I was riveted by the vivid orange of fresh cut butternut squash, unabashedly intoxicated by the smoky odor of sesame oil, and unspeakably thankful for the bluesy sound of acoustic guitar. Candlelight, caramelized onions, sparkly nail polish, snugly babies, leaves swirling outside, poetry, music, love. These things are unspeakably valuable because the enjoyment of them is to delight in being human. To say they are unimportant is to lose your soul.
Chicago...the images it left.
Chicago. People jogging along the lake on a Sunday morning, raw wind tousling them. Starbucks...everywhere. Pumpkins piled in the market. Dads pushing strollers. People, people...more people. Asters tucked under a staircase, mums spilling from baskets, pansies by a telephone pole. Statues, museums, parks. More Starbucks. The Library. Avenues of trees. A fountain hidden at the end of a road, battling to retain its form in the October wind. People crossing the roads obliviously confident of their inalienable right of way. Noodle shops. A marble marker reading Sandburg Place . Layer upon layer of city. Wind. Pulsating life. Human endeavor. Flowers, families, food, art, beauty, imperfection, history, learning, activity, growth. Chicago.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
An excerpt
I was reading outside, enjoying the riotous colors of my sugar maples, and this passage held me captive. Consider it an add on to my post in September:
"Destroying the poetry of a child's soul..."
From C.S.Lewis' The Abolition of Man
"From this point of view the conquest of Nature appears in a new light. We reduce things to mere Nature in order that we may `conquer' them. We are always conquering Nature, because `Nature' is the name for what we have, to some extent, conquered. The price of conquest is to treat a thing as mere Nature. Every conquest over Nature increases her domain. The stars do not become Nature till we can weigh and measure them: the soul does not become Nature till we can psychoanalyse her. The wresting of powers from Nature is also the surrendering of things to Nature. As long as this process stops short of the final stage we may well hold that the gain outweighs the loss. But as soon as we take the final step of reducing our own species to the level of mere Nature, the whole process is stultified, for this time the being who stood to gain and the being who has been sacrificed are one and the same. This is one of the many instances where to carry a principle to what seems its logical conclusion produces absurdity. It is like the famous Irishman who found that a certain kind of stove reduced his fuel bill by half and thence concluded that two stoves of the same kind would enable him to warm his house with no fuel at all. It is the magician's bargain: give up our soul, get power in return. But once our souls, that is, ourselves, have been given up, the power thus conferred will not belong to us. We shall in fact be the slaves and puppets of that to which we have given our souls. It is in Man's power to treat himself as a mere `natural object' and his own judgements of value as raw material for scientific manipulation to alter at will. The objection to his doing so does not lie in the fact that this point of view (like one's first day in a dissecting room) is painful and shocking till we grow used to it. The pain and the shock are at most a warning and a symptom. The real objection is that if man chooses to treat himself as raw material, raw material he will be: not raw material to be manipulated, as he fondly imagined, by himself, but by mere appetite, that is, mere Nature, in the person of his de-humanized Conditioners. "
"Destroying the poetry of a child's soul..."
From C.S.Lewis' The Abolition of Man
"From this point of view the conquest of Nature appears in a new light. We reduce things to mere Nature in order that we may `conquer' them. We are always conquering Nature, because `Nature' is the name for what we have, to some extent, conquered. The price of conquest is to treat a thing as mere Nature. Every conquest over Nature increases her domain. The stars do not become Nature till we can weigh and measure them: the soul does not become Nature till we can psychoanalyse her. The wresting of powers from Nature is also the surrendering of things to Nature. As long as this process stops short of the final stage we may well hold that the gain outweighs the loss. But as soon as we take the final step of reducing our own species to the level of mere Nature, the whole process is stultified, for this time the being who stood to gain and the being who has been sacrificed are one and the same. This is one of the many instances where to carry a principle to what seems its logical conclusion produces absurdity. It is like the famous Irishman who found that a certain kind of stove reduced his fuel bill by half and thence concluded that two stoves of the same kind would enable him to warm his house with no fuel at all. It is the magician's bargain: give up our soul, get power in return. But once our souls, that is, ourselves, have been given up, the power thus conferred will not belong to us. We shall in fact be the slaves and puppets of that to which we have given our souls. It is in Man's power to treat himself as a mere `natural object' and his own judgements of value as raw material for scientific manipulation to alter at will. The objection to his doing so does not lie in the fact that this point of view (like one's first day in a dissecting room) is painful and shocking till we grow used to it. The pain and the shock are at most a warning and a symptom. The real objection is that if man chooses to treat himself as raw material, raw material he will be: not raw material to be manipulated, as he fondly imagined, by himself, but by mere appetite, that is, mere Nature, in the person of his de-humanized Conditioners. "
Monday, November 07, 2005
Glorify Thy Name...
Excerpted from Lawrence Tuttiett's Hymn:
Father, let me dedicate, all this year to Thee,
In whatever worldly state Thou wilt have me be:
Not from sorrow, pain or care, freedom dare I claim;
This alone shall be my prayer, glorify Thy Name.
Father, let me dedicate, all this year to Thee,
In whatever worldly state Thou wilt have me be:
Not from sorrow, pain or care, freedom dare I claim;
This alone shall be my prayer, glorify Thy Name.
Will it hurt?
So, how sovereign is God? Can I really trust Him? How completely can I abandon myself and rest in His love? Does He really bear my burdens if I roll them onto Him?
How long will He make me wait if I do let go? Does he really care about the details of my life? How much pain will He let me feel? Will He let me hurt?
These questions well up. They cause a nauseaus sensation in my gut. I want to know before I let go. I want an answer. I am afraid to abandon myself. I want assurances that there will be no pain...that my heart will not be broken.
Below is what Jesus said when he felt this same fear:
"24 Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain. 25 He who loves his life will lose it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26 If anyone serves Me, let him follow Me; and where I am, there My servant will be also. If anyone serves Me, him My Father will honor.
27 “Now My soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save Me from this hour’? But for this purpose I came to this hour. 28 Father, glorify Your name.”
Then a voice came from heaven, saying, “I have both glorified it and will glorify it again.”
How long will He make me wait if I do let go? Does he really care about the details of my life? How much pain will He let me feel? Will He let me hurt?
These questions well up. They cause a nauseaus sensation in my gut. I want to know before I let go. I want an answer. I am afraid to abandon myself. I want assurances that there will be no pain...that my heart will not be broken.
Below is what Jesus said when he felt this same fear:
"24 Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain. 25 He who loves his life will lose it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26 If anyone serves Me, let him follow Me; and where I am, there My servant will be also. If anyone serves Me, him My Father will honor.
27 “Now My soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save Me from this hour’? But for this purpose I came to this hour. 28 Father, glorify Your name.”
Then a voice came from heaven, saying, “I have both glorified it and will glorify it again.”
Saturday, November 05, 2005
The imperative reason.
The imperative reason why Mammas HAVE to get their coffee immediately upon waking...in order to answer questions like these!
"Mamma, when we come home, the house is cold. And the blankies are cold too. They were waiting for us. They were waiting for us to warm them up. The blankies were wanting us to hop under them. Right Mamma?"
"Mamma, do some animals have rings in their noses? And, if they do, HOW do they get them in their noses?" ( Courtesy of Edward Lear :) )
So, have the Starbucks ready as you never know what questions you will be called upon to answer at seven in the morning.
"Mamma, when we come home, the house is cold. And the blankies are cold too. They were waiting for us. They were waiting for us to warm them up. The blankies were wanting us to hop under them. Right Mamma?"
"Mamma, do some animals have rings in their noses? And, if they do, HOW do they get them in their noses?" ( Courtesy of Edward Lear :) )
So, have the Starbucks ready as you never know what questions you will be called upon to answer at seven in the morning.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Futile bandaids
I love quick fixes. I want my problems solved, and I want them solved NOW! At the sight of a long term solution to a problem, I drum up a hundred reasons why it will never work. I want the quick diet, the miracle phonics program for my five year old, immediate spiritual disciplines, and the cure all daily schedule.
But, there are no quick fixes. At least, none that actually cure the disease. A bandage might hide cancer, but it will never cure the disease. My quick fixes are a futile attempt to bandage.
Faithfulness is the effort required of me, and I rebel. Small, consistent, faithful choices...that is the recourse God gives me. He says, "...let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart." (Gal. 6:9) My flesh wearies of labor without immediate results. I want instant fruit, but God does not work that way. Wisely, He encourages me not to despise the day of small things. (Zechariah 4:10)
There is no miracle diet, only daily submission of my body to Christ's lordship.
There is no perfect phonics program, only faithful, daily perseverance. There are few (if any) life changing encounters with God, unless I abide daily in His Word, practice spiritual disciplines, and cry out faithfully in prayer. There is no quick
cure for my problems. Daily, faithful decisions are the only path given, and I claim Hebrews 11:1 that,"...faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."
But, there are no quick fixes. At least, none that actually cure the disease. A bandage might hide cancer, but it will never cure the disease. My quick fixes are a futile attempt to bandage.
Faithfulness is the effort required of me, and I rebel. Small, consistent, faithful choices...that is the recourse God gives me. He says, "...let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart." (Gal. 6:9) My flesh wearies of labor without immediate results. I want instant fruit, but God does not work that way. Wisely, He encourages me not to despise the day of small things. (Zechariah 4:10)
There is no miracle diet, only daily submission of my body to Christ's lordship.
There is no perfect phonics program, only faithful, daily perseverance. There are few (if any) life changing encounters with God, unless I abide daily in His Word, practice spiritual disciplines, and cry out faithfully in prayer. There is no quick
cure for my problems. Daily, faithful decisions are the only path given, and I claim Hebrews 11:1 that,"...faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sunday wanderings...
Yesterday, our family enjoyed the autumn afternoon wandering through an open air art show for local artists. Canvases sat propped against flower pots spilling over with asters and mums. People sat at tiny cafe tables sipping their waters and waiting to be served. Storefront doors stood open, inviting people to come in and browse.
One bookstore looked particularly inviting, so we wandered in (all seven of us)! Alas, it was a bundle of failed potential. The poor owner did not even know who G.K. Chesterton was, and certainly did not have any of his books in stock. However, he redeemed himself by supplying us with two tall Sumatras, and we wandered back to the street comfortable with our coffees in hand, coaxing along three little ones who insisted on stuffing their pockets to brim with acorns.
I was drawn by the strong colors of one oil canvas, a field of poppies thickly painted in the foreground. It made me wonder. Why is color so emotionally potent? Just the thought of russet, ocher, sienna, or burnt orange conjure up a sense of happiness in me.
We tumbled our way back to the car, and loaded up our crew, but with me came three things. Sadness, for a book-dealer unable to acquaint me with Chesterton. Thankfulness for the happiness of sharing a cup of coffee with my husband. And appreciation,for the pleasure of strong, vivid colors.
One bookstore looked particularly inviting, so we wandered in (all seven of us)! Alas, it was a bundle of failed potential. The poor owner did not even know who G.K. Chesterton was, and certainly did not have any of his books in stock. However, he redeemed himself by supplying us with two tall Sumatras, and we wandered back to the street comfortable with our coffees in hand, coaxing along three little ones who insisted on stuffing their pockets to brim with acorns.
I was drawn by the strong colors of one oil canvas, a field of poppies thickly painted in the foreground. It made me wonder. Why is color so emotionally potent? Just the thought of russet, ocher, sienna, or burnt orange conjure up a sense of happiness in me.
We tumbled our way back to the car, and loaded up our crew, but with me came three things. Sadness, for a book-dealer unable to acquaint me with Chesterton. Thankfulness for the happiness of sharing a cup of coffee with my husband. And appreciation,for the pleasure of strong, vivid colors.
Eternity in their hearts
Everybody is sick. Monday morning laundry covers the kitchen. Dishes lay piled. Suddenly a little voice says, "Mamma,will you read me a story?" Hmmm...dishes?story?dishes?story? what to do? Well, I doubt my 17 year old will remember the dishes, but I can bet she will remember the stories.
"What profit has the worker from that in which he labors? I have seen the God given task with which the sons of men are to be occupied. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also he has put eternity in their hearts, except that no man can find out the work that God does from beginning to end." Ecclesiastes 3:9-11
"What profit has the worker from that in which he labors? I have seen the God given task with which the sons of men are to be occupied. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also he has put eternity in their hearts, except that no man can find out the work that God does from beginning to end." Ecclesiastes 3:9-11
Friday, October 28, 2005
My favorite autumn words
orange
pumpkin
"wanwood
leafmeal"
carmel
cider
swirling
rustling
crunchy
ripened
russet
apple
dusky
aster
crackling
fire
snuggly
sweater
burnt
marshmellow
leafy
smoke
pumpkin
"wanwood
leafmeal"
carmel
cider
swirling
rustling
crunchy
ripened
russet
apple
dusky
aster
crackling
fire
snuggly
sweater
burnt
marshmellow
leafy
smoke
Frost in autumn
My all time favorite poem...just in case no one had realized yet that I am an obsessive, die-hard autumn lover...
AFTER APPLE-PICKING
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing dear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
Robert Frost
AFTER APPLE-PICKING
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing dear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
Robert Frost
Sunday, October 16, 2005
The Hobbitishness of Bach
Below is a link to a good blog from the editors of Touchstone about art, Bach, and pipes....
Article - The Unanguished and Sober Bach
Enjoy with a steaming cup of coffee ... preferably a bold roast Starbucks :)
Article - The Unanguished and Sober Bach
Enjoy with a steaming cup of coffee ... preferably a bold roast Starbucks :)
Friday, October 14, 2005
Nobility of mind...
" The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament (expanse of heaven) shows His handiwork." (Psalm 19:1)
Pondering things outside of my own sphere...stretching my mind, soul, and sight, to comprehend something so vastly beyond myself, wakens in the heart feelings of humility, awe, and adoration.
I wonder if this is not an extension of God's command to, " Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth." (Philippians 3:2) Baseness of mind is the result of a mind preoccupied with eating, sleeping, bodily drives, or amusements. It is the outcome of a mind which never stretches outside of itself, its immediate world.
Nobility and beauty of mind result when a soul reaches outside of its own sphere, when it rises above its physical desires, and stretches to know the beautiful, the macro, the higher. Nobility is intrinsic to a mind turned outward and upward...a mind aching to taste and drink of the Immortal, Invisible, and Infinite.
Pondering things outside of my own sphere...stretching my mind, soul, and sight, to comprehend something so vastly beyond myself, wakens in the heart feelings of humility, awe, and adoration.
I wonder if this is not an extension of God's command to, " Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth." (Philippians 3:2) Baseness of mind is the result of a mind preoccupied with eating, sleeping, bodily drives, or amusements. It is the outcome of a mind which never stretches outside of itself, its immediate world.
Nobility and beauty of mind result when a soul reaches outside of its own sphere, when it rises above its physical desires, and stretches to know the beautiful, the macro, the higher. Nobility is intrinsic to a mind turned outward and upward...a mind aching to taste and drink of the Immortal, Invisible, and Infinite.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Warring and dying...
"Has then what is good become death to me? Certainly not! But sin, that it might appear sin, was producing death in me through what is good, so that sin through the commandment might become exceedingly sinful. For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am carnal, sold under sin. For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice; but what I hate, that I do. If, then, I do what I will not to do, I agree with the law that it is good. But now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me. For I know that in me ( that is in my flesh) nothing good dwells; for to will is present with me, but how to perform what is good I do not find. For the good that I will to do, I do not do; but the evil I will not to do, that I practice. Now if I do what I will not to do, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me.
I find then a law, that evil is present with me, the one who wills to do good. For I delight in the law of God according to the inward man. But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? I thank God-through Jesus Christ our Lord!" - Romans 7:13-25a
"Warring". Could Paul have chosen a more accurate word than this? Blood spilling, sweat pouring, ugly, raw, overwhelming, desperate. When we are at war with our flesh and its lusts, it is like physical battle. We die to self. We are crucified with Christ. All is loss for the sake of Christ. He knows our deepest seated idols, and He rips them out. Spiritual blood spills, agonizing sweat pours, all our vilest sin rears itself, nothing is pretty, hope seems gone, and we die. Self dies the agonizing death of crucifixion with Christ.
Yes, He raises us from the dead, and makes us new creatures in Him. But always, first, we must die.
I find then a law, that evil is present with me, the one who wills to do good. For I delight in the law of God according to the inward man. But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? I thank God-through Jesus Christ our Lord!" - Romans 7:13-25a
"Warring". Could Paul have chosen a more accurate word than this? Blood spilling, sweat pouring, ugly, raw, overwhelming, desperate. When we are at war with our flesh and its lusts, it is like physical battle. We die to self. We are crucified with Christ. All is loss for the sake of Christ. He knows our deepest seated idols, and He rips them out. Spiritual blood spills, agonizing sweat pours, all our vilest sin rears itself, nothing is pretty, hope seems gone, and we die. Self dies the agonizing death of crucifixion with Christ.
Yes, He raises us from the dead, and makes us new creatures in Him. But always, first, we must die.
excuses...
Well, due to sick children, an impromptu trip to Chicago, and other miscellaneous excuses, this blog has been deserted for a while. I am back....
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Life in reverse...
I was playing Legos with my son this afternoon, and after about fifteen minutes of trying to create interesting animal and vegetable shapes, he very kindly turned to me and said, "It is ok that you do not know how to build Legos very well, Mom. Don't worry you will get better at it. I did not used to be very good at it either, so don't worry Mom. It is ok. " ( As he patted me on the back!)
Sometimes, life is in reverse!
Sometimes, life is in reverse!
" You come too..."
The Pasture
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
( And wait to watch the water clear, I may) :
I sha'n't be gone long.-You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.-You come too.
by Robert Frost
" You come too." That must be one of the most inviting phrases in our language. Not, "go away", or, "I am busy", but a warm, beckoning, "You come too". It says, "I care about you, and want to share this experience with you."
As a mother, I am tempted to say, "Not right now," but a simple, welcoming, "You come too"..."that has made all of the difference." :)
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
( And wait to watch the water clear, I may) :
I sha'n't be gone long.-You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.-You come too.
by Robert Frost
" You come too." That must be one of the most inviting phrases in our language. Not, "go away", or, "I am busy", but a warm, beckoning, "You come too". It says, "I care about you, and want to share this experience with you."
As a mother, I am tempted to say, "Not right now," but a simple, welcoming, "You come too"..."that has made all of the difference." :)
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Destroying the poetry of a child's soul...
" There are only two views with which it (poetry) has nothing in common. One is the view of life which they hold whose motto is "Nil admirari." With this it can have no fellowship, for it cuts off the springs of emotion at their very sources. The other antipode is the philosophy which denies us any access to truth, except through the senses ; which refuses to believe anything which scalpel, or crucible, or microscope cannot verify ; which reduces human nature to a heap of finely granulated, iridescent dust, and empties man of a soul and the universe of a God. Such a philosophy would leave to poetry only one function,-to deck with tinsel the coffin of universal humanity. This is a function which she declines to perform.
But we need have no fears that it will come to this. Poetry will not succumb before materialism, or agnosticism, or any other cobweb of the sophisticated brain. It is an older, stronger birth than these, and will survive them. It will throw itself out into fresh forms ; it will dig for itself new channels ; under some form suited to each age, it will continue through all time, for it is an undying effluence of the soul of man. "
- from Aspects of Poetry being Lectures delivered at Oxford by John Campbell Shairp, LL. D. (1891)
The current trial in Dover, Pennsylvania of Intelligent Design is not merely an attack on a body of scientific thought. It is an attack on "universal humanity". Men who are afraid to even consider that man might have a soul, and that the universe might have a God, are desperate to ensure that no children ever ponder such thoughts. They are not only attacking scientific thought, they are destroying the poetry of our children's souls.
Anyone interested in blow by blow updates of the trial should check Jonathan and Amanda Witt's blog http://wittingshire.blogspot.com/. Jonathan works for the Discovery Institute and is the midst of the whole Intelligent Design debate.
But we need have no fears that it will come to this. Poetry will not succumb before materialism, or agnosticism, or any other cobweb of the sophisticated brain. It is an older, stronger birth than these, and will survive them. It will throw itself out into fresh forms ; it will dig for itself new channels ; under some form suited to each age, it will continue through all time, for it is an undying effluence of the soul of man. "
- from Aspects of Poetry being Lectures delivered at Oxford by John Campbell Shairp, LL. D. (1891)
The current trial in Dover, Pennsylvania of Intelligent Design is not merely an attack on a body of scientific thought. It is an attack on "universal humanity". Men who are afraid to even consider that man might have a soul, and that the universe might have a God, are desperate to ensure that no children ever ponder such thoughts. They are not only attacking scientific thought, they are destroying the poetry of our children's souls.
Anyone interested in blow by blow updates of the trial should check Jonathan and Amanda Witt's blog http://wittingshire.blogspot.com/. Jonathan works for the Discovery Institute and is the midst of the whole Intelligent Design debate.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
a snippet....
" Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you. And why do look at the speck in your brother's eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me remove the speck from your eye; and look, a plank is in your own eye? Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." - Matthew 7:1-5
Just a snippet from my reading this morning...
Just a snippet from my reading this morning...
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Crumbling images
There is nothing like children to strip away facades and fronts. There is no pretending to be something, no false impression to maintain. With five children five and under, I am what I am am. For good or ill, take me or leave me, it is real.
Children compel authenticity. Adults can hide, can maintain a group "image"...can fool the world, but not children. Houses get messy, people sin, the unexpected occurs. If I am walking before the face of man, these things will weigh me down. I can never please all men at all times, for I begin ( like Sam) "to feel thin like butter spread over too much toast". But, when my whole aim is God's pleasure, when I walk before His face fearing Him and none else, suddenly the weight of man's pleasure is lifted. I am set free to fight the good fight, to work out my own salvation with fear and trembling, to see if my own heart condemns me. If I know beyond question that I am delighting God, then I am at liberty to be real, authentic, and unique. But, when my heart condemns me, I find my natural man running to hide it beneath a facade.
So, in His sovereign mercy God sends children. Children who rip away facades and images and send me running to the feet of Christ begging for his grace...claiming that He who began a good work in me has promised to faithfully complete it. In the mean time, humility and authenticity are the words of the day.
Children compel authenticity. Adults can hide, can maintain a group "image"...can fool the world, but not children. Houses get messy, people sin, the unexpected occurs. If I am walking before the face of man, these things will weigh me down. I can never please all men at all times, for I begin ( like Sam) "to feel thin like butter spread over too much toast". But, when my whole aim is God's pleasure, when I walk before His face fearing Him and none else, suddenly the weight of man's pleasure is lifted. I am set free to fight the good fight, to work out my own salvation with fear and trembling, to see if my own heart condemns me. If I know beyond question that I am delighting God, then I am at liberty to be real, authentic, and unique. But, when my heart condemns me, I find my natural man running to hide it beneath a facade.
So, in His sovereign mercy God sends children. Children who rip away facades and images and send me running to the feet of Christ begging for his grace...claiming that He who began a good work in me has promised to faithfully complete it. In the mean time, humility and authenticity are the words of the day.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Superhuman? or just plain human?
Just a follow up on Adler's article on education. I found this quote on Rick Saenz's blog:
"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently and die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."
- Robert Heinlein
God created humans in his image. We are multifaceted and diverse, and designed to grow and add to the body of human culture. When I narrow and confine my interests, I stunt my humanness. I pervert God's design for my growth.
God delights in diversity and growth, and when I enrich my whole person, I am delighting with God is the multifaceted beauty of his creation. If I allow my interests, capabilities, and thoughts to narrow and specialize to the exclusion of other all other interests, capabilities and thoughts, then I have stunted my humanity. When I confine my growth to one specialized channel, I become a cog in a machine, a tool for an end, not a person full of life, shaping and adding to the culture around me.
If all I am is a cog in a machine, an expert in a specialized sphere, I become incapable of thinking (much less changing) anything outside that narrow field.
In contrast, a broad, diverse education makes me competent and comfortable in any sphere. I become comfortable...even happy...in any pursuit God calls me to. My specializations are important, but I understand that they do not define me. Broadening my mind keeps me from the dangers which often accompany specialization.
Whether I am digging manure or negotiating a nuclear treaty, I am in my sphere. My sphere is humanity, and all which it encompasses, from the highest to the humblest. I am defined by my spirit, mind, and will, by my relation to God and humanity. Not by my distinctions.
"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently and die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."
- Robert Heinlein
God created humans in his image. We are multifaceted and diverse, and designed to grow and add to the body of human culture. When I narrow and confine my interests, I stunt my humanness. I pervert God's design for my growth.
God delights in diversity and growth, and when I enrich my whole person, I am delighting with God is the multifaceted beauty of his creation. If I allow my interests, capabilities, and thoughts to narrow and specialize to the exclusion of other all other interests, capabilities and thoughts, then I have stunted my humanity. When I confine my growth to one specialized channel, I become a cog in a machine, a tool for an end, not a person full of life, shaping and adding to the culture around me.
If all I am is a cog in a machine, an expert in a specialized sphere, I become incapable of thinking (much less changing) anything outside that narrow field.
In contrast, a broad, diverse education makes me competent and comfortable in any sphere. I become comfortable...even happy...in any pursuit God calls me to. My specializations are important, but I understand that they do not define me. Broadening my mind keeps me from the dangers which often accompany specialization.
Whether I am digging manure or negotiating a nuclear treaty, I am in my sphere. My sphere is humanity, and all which it encompasses, from the highest to the humblest. I am defined by my spirit, mind, and will, by my relation to God and humanity. Not by my distinctions.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Artistically rendered despair
Just in case anybody was wondering what life utterly devoid of Christ is like...rent the movie The Empire Grill with Paul Newman. There is nothing quite like it to depict the hopeless, desperate emptiness of life without God. Nothing.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
The eternal and the insignificant
"I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.
The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
And breaths were gathering sure
For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.
I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I
Could make assignable,-and then
There interposed a fly,
With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
I could not see to see."
- Emily Dickinson
The first line of this poem has been lodged in my brain for two days now. Poems do that sometimes you know.
It compels me to remember that things of eternal import frequently occur simultaneously with those that appear insignificant or mundane. Dickinson, in juxtaposing these subjects, compels us to realize that so often we are distracted by the insignificant, while staring the eternal in the face.
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.
The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
And breaths were gathering sure
For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.
I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I
Could make assignable,-and then
There interposed a fly,
With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
I could not see to see."
- Emily Dickinson
The first line of this poem has been lodged in my brain for two days now. Poems do that sometimes you know.
It compels me to remember that things of eternal import frequently occur simultaneously with those that appear insignificant or mundane. Dickinson, in juxtaposing these subjects, compels us to realize that so often we are distracted by the insignificant, while staring the eternal in the face.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
What is the aim of education?
Below is a link to an article entitled Labor, Leisure, and Liberal Education by Mortimer J. Adler. I am still trying to decide if Adler is making a really insightful point, or if he a real snob isolated in the world of privileged academia.
Whether you agree or disagree, it is thought provoking reading. What is the aim of education?
http://www.sourcetext.com/grammarian/adler2.html
Whether you agree or disagree, it is thought provoking reading. What is the aim of education?
http://www.sourcetext.com/grammarian/adler2.html
Universal appeal ?
I finished reading Robinson Crusoe. Coleridge termed Crusoe the,"universal man", and I suppose that is why I laboured through the archaic language. I wanted to know what made a book appeal for over four hundred years.
I think I understand now what the "universal" appeal is. It is the lurking doubt in human hearts of, "What am I really, when everything extraneous is stripped away?Is there enough to this entity "Me" that I could survive physically, much less emotionally and spiritually? How much self reliance do I really have?"
Everyone can relate to these questions. Thus, Crusoe's " universal" appeal.
I think I understand now what the "universal" appeal is. It is the lurking doubt in human hearts of, "What am I really, when everything extraneous is stripped away?Is there enough to this entity "Me" that I could survive physically, much less emotionally and spiritually? How much self reliance do I really have?"
Everyone can relate to these questions. Thus, Crusoe's " universal" appeal.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Of history and rolling pins
Sunday, my husband's grandmother gave me a rolling pin. A solid piece of wood, turned by my husband's grandfather on a lathe. It is nicked and smooth with wear, and feels right somehow to the touch. A tangible piece of our family's history. Forget the characterless pin I formerly used. It had no meaning, conjured up no emotion, evoked no past. This pin however, recalls childhood memories... the scent of sawdust, and the dim light of the workshop in which I know he lathed it. It provokes thoughts of how many crusts it's nicked surface has smoothed, and of how many many more it will roll yet.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Slow Food
I love authenticity. The appreciation of things which are real, individual, and diverse, things permeated with history and growth. The Italian born, "Slow Food" movement is dedicated to cultivating this appreciation in the sphere of food and the culinary arts. Below is their manifesto.
Slow Food International Manifesto Endorsed and approved in 1989 by delegates from twenty countries:
"Our century, which began and has developed under the insignia of industrial civilization, first invented the machine and then took it as its life model. We are enslaved by speed and have all succumbed to the same insidious virus: Fast Life, which disrupts our habits, pervades the privacy of our homes and forces us to eat Fast Foods. To be worthy of the name, Homo Sapiens should rid himself of speed before it reduces him to a species in danger of extinction. A firm defense of quiet material pleasure is the only way to oppose the universal folly of Fast Life. May suitable doses of guaranteed sensual pleasure and slow, long-lasting enjoyment preserve us from the contagion of the multitude who mistake frenzy for efficiency. Our defense should begin at the table with Slow Food. Let us rediscover the flavors and savors of regional cooking and banish the degrading effects of Fast Food. In the name of productivity, Fast Life has changed our way of being and threatens our environment and our landscapes. So Slow Food is now the only truly progressive answer. That is what real culture is all about: developing taste rather than demeaning it. And what better way to set about this than an international exchange of experiences, knowledge, projects? Slow Food guarantees a better future. Slow Food is an idea that needs plenty of qualified supporters who can help turn this (slow) motion into an international movement, with the little snail as its symbol."
Slow Food International Manifesto Endorsed and approved in 1989 by delegates from twenty countries:
"Our century, which began and has developed under the insignia of industrial civilization, first invented the machine and then took it as its life model. We are enslaved by speed and have all succumbed to the same insidious virus: Fast Life, which disrupts our habits, pervades the privacy of our homes and forces us to eat Fast Foods. To be worthy of the name, Homo Sapiens should rid himself of speed before it reduces him to a species in danger of extinction. A firm defense of quiet material pleasure is the only way to oppose the universal folly of Fast Life. May suitable doses of guaranteed sensual pleasure and slow, long-lasting enjoyment preserve us from the contagion of the multitude who mistake frenzy for efficiency. Our defense should begin at the table with Slow Food. Let us rediscover the flavors and savors of regional cooking and banish the degrading effects of Fast Food. In the name of productivity, Fast Life has changed our way of being and threatens our environment and our landscapes. So Slow Food is now the only truly progressive answer. That is what real culture is all about: developing taste rather than demeaning it. And what better way to set about this than an international exchange of experiences, knowledge, projects? Slow Food guarantees a better future. Slow Food is an idea that needs plenty of qualified supporters who can help turn this (slow) motion into an international movement, with the little snail as its symbol."
Sunday, September 11, 2005
haiku at the park...
A fleeting image left me wondering and sad as I drove through our local park today...
An autumn wood
A flowing river
An old man sat with his head in his hands
An autumn wood
A flowing river
An old man sat with his head in his hands
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