Like a Song...

Christ of the Breadlines
Fritz Eichenerg


Like a Song...

U2

Like a song I have to sing
I sing it for you.
Like the words I have to bring
I bring it for you.

And in leather, lace and chains we stake our claim.
Revolution once again
No I won't, I won't wear it on my sleeve.
I can see through this expression and you know I don't believe.
Too old to be told, exactly who are you?
Tonight, tomorrow's too late.

And we love to wear a badge, a uniform
And we love to fly a flag
But I won't let others live in hell
As we divide against each other
And we fight amongst ourselves
Too set in our ways to try to rearrange
Too right to be wrong, in this rebel song
Let the bells ring out
Let the bells ring out
Is there nothing left?
Is there, is there nothing?
Is there nothing left?
Is honesty what you want?

A generation without name, ripped and torn
Nothing to lose, nothing to gain
Nothing at all
And if you can't help yourself
Well take a look around you
When others need your time
You say it's time to go... it's your time.
Angry words won't stop the fight
Two wrongs won't make it right.
A new heart is what I need.
Oh, God make it bleed.
Is there nothing left?

Poetry Wednesday

Memory Eternal

Today on this gray, blustery, cold Tuesday, we remember a good man and a dear friend departed this life much too soon. As our day demands us to continue on with our mundane tasks, we do so with heavy hearts knowing that those close to us are suffering, weighed down with grief over their loss; and we mourn with them. May the Lord God remember His servant Roger in His kingdom now and ever and unto ages of ages. And if you have a moment, we beseech you to offer a prayer for Roger's wife of nearly forty years, Denise; his sons, J.J., Steve, and Mike; their wives Jessica, Cris, and Andrea; his grandchildren Harrison, Owen, and Payton. Precious Braddy family, know you are in our thoughts and prayers and that we love you.

O God of spirits and of all flesh, Who has trampled down death and overthrown the Devil, and given life to Thy world, do Thou, the same Lord, give rest to the soul of Thy departed servant in a place of brightness, a place of refreshment, a place of repose, where all sickness, sighing, and sorrow have fled away. Pardon every transgression which he has committed, whether by word or deed or thought. For Thou art a good God and lovest mankind; because there is no man who lives yet does not sin, for Thou only art without sin, Thy righteousness is to all eternity, and Thy word is truth.

For Thou are the Resurrection, the Life, and the Repose of Thy servants who have fallen asleep, O Christ our God, and unto Thee we ascribe glory, together with Thy Father, who is from everlasting, and Thine all-holy, good, and life-creating Spirit, now and ever unto ages of ages. Amen.

Orthodox Prayer for the Departed

In Case You Were Wondering

What exactly are we doing when we are not visiting flower farms, apple orchards, pumpkin patches, or hiking at  state parks? Well, here is just a glimpse.

Thomas and I have been taking a four-week knitting class every Tuesday evening and he has declared knitting to "be kind of cool." My favorite moment at last week's class (which I must add consists of us and two other women) was when he asked the rest of the group whether they had ever watched Sesame Street which I find funny in itself and then especially so because I don't think he has ever watched Sesame Street, not on tv anyway. Still haven't gone digital. 

The princess ate her first whole banana with a lot of supervision. Besides pointing at anything she wants, Mrs. McGoodles has begun to take a few steps and has also begun to demonstrate some fine dance moves to such classic hits as "Old McDonald."

So yes, there was some more potty in pans, tea pots, and even the homemade play-dough but these two volunteered to help me with this task. Molly, this may be Priscilla or Mary's beaded headband. I'll put it in the bag of stuff you left behind. Elliot put it on and declared himself a princess. 

Russell rivaling Bono as "The Fly."

Elliot with a little improvisation on his classic "Pirate" face.

So Lu Lu Bird eats everything, except cottage cheese. She is loving her beans and rice in this picture. Also she often coos, "Ma Ma Ma" but there also exists the loud, "MA!!!" and I think, "Dear God, she is yelling at me too."

Thomas and I have been focusing on watercolor painting for our main school lesson for the last two weeks. We have used just three colors (red, blue, and yellow) and have been painting on a nearly saturated piece of heavy duty paper. The goal has been to experience "pure color."

And finally, over the course of the last two months, Thomas and I have been working on memorizing this quote from Dostoevsky, and we finally have it down pat. Now what to do for November and December. I am thinking of a portion of the Luke 2 passage. Any suggestions?

And that's it in a nutshell. A peaceful and blessed week dear friends.

The Morns Are Meeker Than They Were

I feel an intense pleasure of awakening before the sun; of seeing a glimpse of his temperate light through the bare trees outside my window while clutching a mug of coffee in my already skin cracked hands; of standing for a mere minute in solitude before launching into the bustle of my morning routine while listening for tiny steps descending the stairs begging to be given attention; of crossing myself and whispering a prayer to commence my day; of experiencing the brisk air from a window I neglected to close the evening before despite the fact the heat has been switched on. Oh how I love summer, the consuming heat, the air drenched with humidity, the liberty to fling open doors and windows and rush outside, the arousing to action it kindles within me. Yet autumn with its unique beauty and its gentle movement from life to death woos me to journey inward, beckoning me to bury these temporal cares that often vex and seem insurmountable so that with God's grace they might die and something beautiful might rise out this wanting soul, desperate for more of Christ and less of me.

Forgive me if this poem has been offered here before; I have a tendency to forget and repeat. This poem just makes me happy. 

The Morns Are Meeker Than They Were

Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,

The nuts are getting brown;

The berry's cheek is plumper,

The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,

The field a scarlet gown.

Lest I should be old-fashioned,

I'll put a trinket on.

Poetry Wednesday

Scenes from hiking with daddy at Scott County Park last Saturday after mommy whimpered out a plea for a couple hours to clean. She received several. Thanks honey!

Friday At The Farm

My gem of a friend, Cathe's farm, of course. Despite an initial gulp that my plans for the day might not materialize when both Russell and Elliot awoke complaining of their bellies hurting, the pain pretty quickly subsided (I chalked it up to all of the homemade play-dough they managed to consume yesterday) and we made it to one of my favorite farms in Iowa. Gorgeous blue skies. Lovely weather. And still plenty of flowers to pick. Perfect.

Elliot sitting outside the Summer Kitchen. Completely unrelated but too cute to not remember. On our drive to the flower farm, I asked Elliot, who has determined to be Johnny Cash for Halloween, what he would wear as The Man in Black, he responded that he would don his hanbok. Makes me giggle.

I've Been Tagged

So my friend Tesi tagged me and I thought, why not?

1) What is your biggest pet peeve?
Besides potty on the floor? Actually Jared and I have this nasty habit of leaving empty soda and beer boxes in our downstairs fridge. If they actually manage to emerge from the fridge, they rarely make it to the trash and end up scattered all over the floor so we are constantly tripping on them. It makes me bonkers. Chalk it up to laziness or exhaustion or both.

2) If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be and why?
I am really quite happy right where I am. I mean we did choose to move back to this area. I love my old, white house that needs repainting; I love my neighborhood and getting to know the people who live in this community; I love Vander Veer park, the Freight House Farmer's Market, and meeting new friends and spending time with the old ones. Of course, with precious friends spread out over the country, it would be nice to live together but for now I am sure that we are exactly where we are supposed to be. Always open to anything and I often think we will end up overseas at some point but not for a long while.

3) Have you ever been searched by the cops?
Of course not. I am not nearly that interesting.

4) What is the one thing on your mind right now?
Hmm. I am thinking about the lovely evening I just had attending The Elegant Barn's preview sale with friends (one being my sweet friend Leslie, author of the Radish article) and that my husband is probably on his way home right now with some Whitey's and that there might be time to watch an episode of Pushing Daisies before bed. Tomorrow hopefully a trip to Miss Effie's farm. Looking forward to seeing her, catching my breath, and checking out her newly opened summer kitchen.

5) Favorite song right now?
Does "Doing the Pigeon" from Bert's Blockbusters count? Actually Natalie Merchant's version of Florence Reece's union song, Which Side Are You On? from Merchant's The House Carpenter's Daughter.

6) What talent do you wish you had?
I wish I could sew. Would be my dream to make my own clothes, curtains, napkins, etc.

7) Favorite drink?
Once upon a time I loved my coffee with cinnamon hazelnut creamer but stopped drinking it because of the artificial stuff (no Splenda comments please). Coffee with cream; Fountain Coke that burns your throat; and always a glass of Cabernet.

8) In one word how would you describe yourself?
I wish I could say "whimsical" or "witty" but I am afraid "scheduled" is more accurate. And truly, content. Despite the craziness and the general chaos of our lives right now, things are good.

Praying

Praying

Mary Oliver

It doesn't have to be 

the blue iris, it could be 

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just 

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try

to make them elaborate, this isn't

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

Poetry Wednesday

The Days Of Our Lives

A more keen individual would have undoubtedly perceived the enigmatic nature of the cup's contents. But I was a woman with four children strapped in their car seats patiently waiting for me to board our van and drive them to buy sprinkled doughnuts for Thomas' namesday. My primary concern was taking full advantage of the 15 seconds I was allotted by my children's captivity–15 seconds in which I could savor one drink of  coffee, swishing the hot, creamy fluid in my mouth in order to maximize its full benefits on my frazzled soul and body. Examining the coffee before I consumed it was completely outside my radar. Silly me. The minute the treasured drink hit my lips two synapses fired in my brain simultaneously: one telling me of the taste of dish soap on my tongue and the other recalling Elliot pouring this villainous cleaner into an empty wine glass. Apparently he had found my coffee, too.

I relate this story because I believe it is reflective of my present life. That something I took for granted for so many years, casually sitting and drinking a warm cup of brew without interruption has become a pipe dream. And that there is rarely a day that passes that something - salt, cinnamon, soda, coffee, and sometimes other more unmentionable liquids -  is not purposefully spilled onto the floor or countertop.  So are the days of our lives, but my goodness, despite all the craziness everything is alright and really pretty darn good.

Russell engaging in one of his favorite activities: water play. Notice that his underwear is on backwards. Russell's new favorite phrase is, "What that is?'

It is a a rare to find Thomas not offering his camera smile, which is really not nearly as cute as what comes naturally. Thomas is engaged in separating his laundry, and is doing it with much bravado. 

Guess who figured out how to use the sprayer?

Russell and Lucia. Everyone is just crazy about this girl.

And believe me, our daughter has lots of sass. I think this might be an attempt to imitate Elliot's "Pirate."

Russell asking, "Potty here?" My answer: "No!"

So I won't bore you with any lengthy discussion of what our school day consists of but last week was "Seasonal Craft Week." Trust me when I say that you cannot buy conkers at Hobby Lobby because I asked. Low and behold, a conker is a chestnut. Who knew? Found this lovely at the park. Jared drilled holes into it and then we put toothpicks in and weaved a spider web. Thomas kept saying, "This is so cool!"

We also made gnomes out of pines cones and beeswax. Thomas and my mother sewed the hats from the fabric of an old dress of my mom's. Lucia gets giddy over the gnomes. Really.

A wreath made out of the flowers we picked last week at Shady Knoll. This is the camera smile I was talking about.

And Thomas' namesday cake. He was a big helper and even grated the orange and lemon rinds.

 Thomas celebrated his namesday on October 6th. This icon was written by our dear friend Tonya Maddex, aka "Grammie" and given to him on his baptismal day. May God grant you many years, little one!

The Land of Nod

It might seem silly but often I forget to breathe. Rather than exhaling, I hold my breath, running around all day, attempting to divert impending disasters and cleaning up the messes of the ones I was not able to thwart. By the time I am ready to lay my tired body down for a night of sleep, I realize that the pain weighing heavy on my heart is all that stale air pent up inside tangling itself in my guts in an effort to smother my joy. Just breathe. Deeply in and out. But on this day, this beautiful Friday, surrounded by open space, friendly faces, and the purity of unfettered life blossoming all around me, the air flowed easily from my lungs and I felt so grateful, so free, so drunk on life. I could have stayed all day. Thank you Gene and Beri for sharing your home with us.

The Land of Nod

Robert Louis Stevenson

From breakfast on through all the day

At home among my friends I stay,

But every night I go abroad

Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go,

With none to tell me what to do --

All alone beside the streams

And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me,

Both things to eat and things to see,

And many frightening sights abroad

Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way,

I never can get back by day,

Nor can remember plain and clear

The curious music that I hear.

Poetry Wednesday