Speak to us of Love

We who are called to be poor in spirit, to be fools for Christ, who are called to persecution and abuse- we know that this is the only calling given to us by the persecuted, abused, disdained, and humiliated Christ. And we do not only believe in the promises of blessedness to come; now, at this very moment, in the midst of this cheerless and despairing world, we already taste this blessedness whenever, with God's help and at God's command, we deny ourselves, whenever we have the strength to offer our soul for our neighbor, whenever in love we do not seek our own ends. -Mother Maria Skobtsova

When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams 

as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.

Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses 

your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and

shake them in their clinging to the earth. 

 

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,

that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you

that you may know the secrets of your heart,

and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness

and pass out of love's threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh,

but not all of your laughter,

and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say,

"God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."

And think not you can direct the course of love,

for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook

that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart 

and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart

and a song of praise upon your lips.

from The Prophet

Kahlil Gibran

Luminous

Having known the grace

that for so long has kept this world,

haggard as it is, as we have made it,

we cannot rest, we must be stirring

to keep that gift dwelling among us,

eternally alive in time. This

is the great work, no other, none harder,

none nearer rest or more beautiful.  

-from Leavings, Wendell Berry

It was a dream so vivid, so beautiful, so ethereal; the kind of dream you mourn the loss of once roused out of your unconsciousness; the kind of dream you desperately wish to return to like the reappearance of a long-gone friend. I was outside in the night. The sky was an inky black and the stars shone brilliantly as they do only away from the lights of the city. I was awestruck by how the stars dazzled as I sat on a hill. I began to search for the Big Dipper hoping to locate the Great Bear of which it is borne.  To my left, a shooting star whisked by.  With a twinge of regret, I slowly opened my eyes submitting to the reality of the day, thankful for the gift of the dream.

It was late, too late and a more level-headed individual would have long ago made their way to bed. But I am not that sensible. Already an hour had passed since Jared, clearly the more reasonable one amongst us, climbed the stairs up to our bed. I was alone, and the quietude afforded to me by our house finally at rest and the stillness of the fiercely cold night, was too much of a temptation to resist, and so I succumbed to temptation, and remained sprawled out on our couch, book in hand. I had chosen a book on Celtic spirituality from our shelves to peruse through on this eve of St. Brigid's feastday. Again and again, this ancient writing accounted the saint's life of generosity, how she chose to give to the poor, to the stranger, not from her surplus but rather giving away all she had because she was "unmindful of the morrow" and trusted in God to provide. That phrase, so simple, so complex. Unmindful of the morrow. It is stuck in my head. It has stuck in my heart. 

It has been a week uncharacteristic to the typical workings of our family. A week which makes me hopeful that we are on the cusp of change, a return to our former way of existence complete with days where dinner is more or less ready on schedule and there is time beforehand to sit down at the table with a cup of coffee and squish play-dough through my fingers and create delicate desserts for Russell's restaurant, French Meal; a return to evenings dedicated to family reading and game playing. Don't be fooled, there is plenty of bickering, whining, yelling, and general chaos as we live out our days so closely enmeshed with each other. My eye is still twitching, and Elliot and I are still more often than not pulling out a glass container of lavender oil to breathe in and help us calm down. (A glass of red wine in the evening never hurts either.) Still, I am cautiously optimistic that the return of a familiar, more consistent rhythm may be just around the corner. And again, as we go about the routines of our day - sitting together at meals, standing together in prayer, making beds, doing laundry, cleaning up, building Legos, reading books, marveling at birds outside our window, laughing with one another over silly jokes - I am reminded anew that, in the words of a wise priest given to me many years ago, I am exactly where God wants me to be. To steal from Berry yet again, "And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye, clear. All I need is here." Peaceful week to you.

For the record, after a vigorous workout, Thomas had to disrobe a bit and Lucia insisted that she too wear a white, sleeveless t-shirt. Also, we began a new tradition for the Feast of the Meeting of Christ in the Temple (a.k.a. Candlemas): We made candles out of beeswax. 

You say it's your birthday

There was a homemade card. A whole lot of cheesecake. And a jubilant song. Happy 37th Birthday Jared! "With a family like this," said my husband, "how could I not have my best birthday ever?" Still not quite sure if he is being sarcastic. And speaking of cheesecake...I believe the birthday boy and I are going to enjoy one more piece with a glass of wine while watching one episode of Downton Abbey before heading to bed. Peace and goodness.

 

Advent and Christmas

The boys and I finished up the final chapter of A Christmas Carol on Friday (and yes, I was a little teary when reading Tiny Tim's "God bless us, everyone"), and this afternoon I undecorated the tree while Elliot pretended to splash it with a branch full of holy water. There was some debate between myself and Thomas over exactly which decorations qualified as specifically "Christmas" and which were seasonal. Decisions were made and half of the trinkets were carefully placed in boxes and retreated back to their home in the attic. Leaving out a strand of lights to be hung over a living room window to elicit cheer was deemed absolutely necessary by my son; and when the princess awoke and discovered the tree had disappeared while she was sleeping, her sadness was assuaged by the bright lights, which she declared "absolutely beautiful." The following is a vast and lengthy assortment of our Advent and Christmas photos. It was truly a blessed and joyous season filled with gatherings with those we love so much. Enjoy! A peaceful week to you all.

St. Nicholas Day

December 6

Russell just being Russell

St. Lucia Day

December 13th

Getting ready to deliver Swedish ginger cookies to the neighbors

Christmas Eve

One picture please before heading out the door for church at St. Raphael of Brooklyn in Iowa City

Christmas Day

Yes, even Baby Owen received a new Christmas outfit. Sharp!

The First Day of Christmas...

plumb tuckered out.

The Eleventh Day of Christmas...

warm enough to head outside and snow perfect for snowballs and snowmen.

Russell constructing an "igloop.'

Oddly enough, our snow man resembles my husband.

The Twelfth Day of Christmas...

so cold that Elliot disrobed of his church clothes and promptly put on footy pajamas.

Enjoying the Three King's Cake with his best friend. I must add that Russell was the official King of the Feast, finding the raisin (didn't have a bean) in his piece of cake.