"An artist needs time to do nothing but sit around and think and let ideas come to him," Jacob Kahn said to me one afternoon on that porch after I had sat on a chair for hours, gazing at the sunlight on the water and the sand and the houses farther up along the dunes. "Gertrude Stein said that once. She was an impossible human being. But she was wise." --from 'My Name is Asher Lev' by Chaim Potok, page 239
That idea is true for writers as well as artists, and that is why new posts have not appeared regularly on this blog all summer. One needs time to do nothing but sit around and think and let ideas come. It should be illegal for summers to get this busy.
***
I went to church this morning in wind and rain. The thermometer shivered around fifty degrees. It is August. "It" has no business being anything less than sunny and at least 70.
But the leaves have begun to turn. I noticed it three or four days ago, but did not admit it until today.
***
I have gotten more exercise this weekend than the entire summer gave me. Between helping a friend move (there were stairs involved) on Friday, square-dancing and waltzing at a wedding on Saturday, and walking today, I feel good. Sitting too much in chairs leaves one feeling frail. Back in Montana, when I played on a volleyball team, kept sheep and horses, and ran in the wind because I liked the feeling, I felt like a sturdy farm girl.
Of course, I could have gone camping and huckleberry-picking with my boyfriend and his family for the next two days, but I opted out because after two years' distance from my rock-climbing and whitewater rafting days, I have decided that camping is just not little Jennifer's cup of tea. It isn't bears that bother me, or sleeping on hard ground; it is getting dirty and not being able to get clean that irks me. But I will go with them sometime, and I am sure I will enjoy it.
***
The wedding yesterday was the second this summer, one Saturday immediately following the other. I used to think wedding traditions were all pointless. I have seen reasonably traditional weddings that seemed unreasonably pointless--not, thankfully, among my close friends. But I have changed my mind about wedding traditions. Had it not been in my head to do so before, it would have been after those two weddings.
The first wedding had a lovely reception, and the bride was one of the more beautiful creatures I have seen in some time. The ceremony, however, was officiated by a woman. A woman, moreover, wearing floral print. She prayed to "The Creator" without getting any more specific than that. The vows contained lots of sweetnesses about things like "my arms being your home", but absolutely nothing that I recall about "for richer or for poorer" or "in sickness and in health", let alone "till death do us part". I am not fool enough to think that because it meant nothing to me, it meant nothing to them. But I would not have felt married.
The second wedding was Christian: Catholic, to be exact, though all the bride's family was Protestant. The groom's brother, a Jesuit seminarian, gave a long but lovely homily based on the three Bible readings chosen by the bride and groom. The bride's brother and sister(?) sang the hymn "Come Thou Fount". The bride and groom memorized their vows, which I thought rather daring, but it worked out beautifully. They said the simple, basic promises that have been said at Christian weddings for centuries. "For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part." The deacon performing the ceremony blessed the rings and officiated the vows with a few brief words that emphasized the sacrament and its solemnity and joy. Perhaps it would have meant nothing to someone, but for me it confirmed clearly why people go through the bother of the giant expensive social and religious ritual known as a wedding.
And then we square-danced at the reception, and my shoe fell off and I stepped on Lou's feet but he never stepped on mine, and at one point during a mixer dance I was partnered with a small girl and she was the "guy", and after awhile my legs went to jelly and Lou and I sat under the tent and watched, with amusement, as the energetic and good-looking newlyweds and about fifty other people danced the Virginia Reel.
***
After church today, I finished reading My Name is Asher Lev and took a three-hour nap. I woke up to find that the rain had stopped and that the sun had pushed its way through the clouds in places. The wind blew strongly, and it all appealed to me so much that I decided to take a walk that has become something of a ritual for me.
I have taken this walk only three times, counting today. The idea is to start from the bottom of the Taylor Stairs--everyone in Bellingham knows the Taylor stairs--and walk to Boulevard Park, continue on the waterside path toward downtown, take the cut up to State Street and go up Boulevard Road (or Avenue, or Street, or Lane, or whatever) to the stairs that go up to Forest Lane. From there, I continue up the block to North Garden Street, turn left, and go up around the school and past the dorms, down West Campus Way and onto Bill McDonald, which goes back to 21st, and a right on Taylor takes me back to the bottom of the stairs. It takes me about an hour and a half at a steady pace.
Last time I made that walk was last September, and the time before that was in the spring. Each time, it has been an opportunity for me to relax and just think. I get very much into this, so much so that I hardly dare even to talk to myself. No, I am not crazy.
The first time I thought about what it is to be loved, and recognized the ways in which I was loved. The second time came right after I broke up with my first boyfriend; the day was windy and drizzly and autumnal, and I worked out a lot in that hike.
Today, I detoured a little bit and walked around Knox, effectively making my route even longer (it is long, at least, for someone who sits in chairs all the time and hardly ever gets out.) But I did less serious thinking than the other trips. I looked up at patches of blue sky through still-green leaves. The cool wind made me think of autumn, which made me think of transition. The sun got hot in the brief pauses between the wind's blowings, and I thought to myself that it is absolutely shameful for a woman to sweat as much as I do.
Unwittingly, I found myself narrating the trip to myself in short, tortured little sentences like Chaim Potok uses. This became annoying about halfway through the trip. Unfortunately, it did not stop.
I walked past churches of three different Christian denominations and centers of two other religions. I found "Power to the People" stamped on the sidewalk and laughed at Bellingham for its odd ideas about democracy and socialism, and for the fact that it chalks its philosophies on the streets. "Free Tibet" had been chalked on Taylor last year. Moving from one aspect of popular philosophy to another, I thought of the fact that the most hated people in Western society right now are those who fit all of the following categories: white, male, straight, Christian. I thought of the fact that the two best men I have ever known--my dad and my boyfriend--have been all of those things (as have a few of the bad but nearly all of the good men I've met), and that the gentlest, most loving treatment a girl could ever want has come to me from those two. Western society appears to be mistaken. As if I needed further proof of that fact.
It was a good trip. And now it is midnight, and I have to get up at six-thirty. There will have been little point in taking a three-hour nap today if I don't go to bed now.
8.19.2007
8.02.2007
New Silhouette Post
My article for this month is in here at Silhouette. Happy reading to those who choose to check it out :-)
The article did not come easy this time, perhaps because with the other pieces I had a distinctive idea that I felt strongly about. This one feels a bit more random, and I edited it quite a bit for overstatement.
Maybe I should start taking ideas for next month now, instead of putting it off till the last weekend again. Anybody have suggestions? Feel free to use the comment box!
The article did not come easy this time, perhaps because with the other pieces I had a distinctive idea that I felt strongly about. This one feels a bit more random, and I edited it quite a bit for overstatement.
Maybe I should start taking ideas for next month now, instead of putting it off till the last weekend again. Anybody have suggestions? Feel free to use the comment box!
7.21.2007
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
There shouldn't be any spoilers in this post ...
Having pre-ordered the book within three days of hearing that pre-orders were being taken, I was among the first group to run up to the shipping door of Village Books last night and exchange the yellow "Golden Snitch" for a copy of the book.
Rachael drove me home, both of us jigging with excitement, neither of us planning to sleep until we had some serious reading done. I haven't heard from her yet, or Chris, about whether they've finished it; although Chris, who as an East Coast resident got his book three hours before I did, left me a voice message at 4 AM his time to tell me to brace myself.
And, for the first time in my life, I stayed up all night. I finished the book.
Fair warning here, to anyone who is at all likely to take nightmares: I didn't stay up merely out of a need to know the end, although that helped. I stayed up because parts of it creeped me out so much that no way did I dare to face sleep without the resolution. Very little in the other books has affected me that way (granted, I didn't read any of them for the first time between midnight and 7 AM). This is no children's book, and it is very dark, so if earlier books left you unsettled, go cautiously; at the very least, don't read it alone or after dark.
Not enough people have yet read the story to justify me in posting any particular details, so I'll restrain myself from that. As to general thoughts on the story, however: at first I wondered if I would like it at all, and at one point felt furiously certain that I'd hate it, that there weren't enough pages left to contain an explanation that could justify what I was seeing. There still remains one decision a very important "good guy" made that I really struggle with, even disagree with.
But the other day I read a slice of an interview with Joanne Rowling done some time back. I had heard that she was a member of the Church of Scotland, that she claims to "go more often than at Christmas and Easter" (a rather cryptic remark that people will probably take a couple of different ways.) The interviewer, however, had commented on her books being secular. The article recorded her response as "Um, I don't think they're all that secular".
She wasn't kidding. They're not "all that secular".
Don't get me wrong--the main characters didn't suddenly drop to their knees and profess Christianity, not that that is what makes a story Christian. Nor is the story a clear and accurate descriptor of salvation theology, or any such thing, not that it attempts to be. What I will say, though, is that the allegory drawn is in its own way comparable to certain points in the most well-known works of those two venerable Christian fantasy writers, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.
... and, after the final two chapters inspired me to that half-laughing, half-crying act that womanhood practices so naturally, I have to say that I liked the book.
But some time must go by before I can say more--others need the chance to read it. I need to re-read it, which will not happen immediately; there are three people waiting to read my copy, and I've put a lot of time into Harry Potter lately and should turn my attention to other things.
Happy reading, to all of you still in the process :-)
Having pre-ordered the book within three days of hearing that pre-orders were being taken, I was among the first group to run up to the shipping door of Village Books last night and exchange the yellow "Golden Snitch" for a copy of the book.
Rachael drove me home, both of us jigging with excitement, neither of us planning to sleep until we had some serious reading done. I haven't heard from her yet, or Chris, about whether they've finished it; although Chris, who as an East Coast resident got his book three hours before I did, left me a voice message at 4 AM his time to tell me to brace myself.
And, for the first time in my life, I stayed up all night. I finished the book.
Fair warning here, to anyone who is at all likely to take nightmares: I didn't stay up merely out of a need to know the end, although that helped. I stayed up because parts of it creeped me out so much that no way did I dare to face sleep without the resolution. Very little in the other books has affected me that way (granted, I didn't read any of them for the first time between midnight and 7 AM). This is no children's book, and it is very dark, so if earlier books left you unsettled, go cautiously; at the very least, don't read it alone or after dark.
Not enough people have yet read the story to justify me in posting any particular details, so I'll restrain myself from that. As to general thoughts on the story, however: at first I wondered if I would like it at all, and at one point felt furiously certain that I'd hate it, that there weren't enough pages left to contain an explanation that could justify what I was seeing. There still remains one decision a very important "good guy" made that I really struggle with, even disagree with.
But the other day I read a slice of an interview with Joanne Rowling done some time back. I had heard that she was a member of the Church of Scotland, that she claims to "go more often than at Christmas and Easter" (a rather cryptic remark that people will probably take a couple of different ways.) The interviewer, however, had commented on her books being secular. The article recorded her response as "Um, I don't think they're all that secular".
She wasn't kidding. They're not "all that secular".
Don't get me wrong--the main characters didn't suddenly drop to their knees and profess Christianity, not that that is what makes a story Christian. Nor is the story a clear and accurate descriptor of salvation theology, or any such thing, not that it attempts to be. What I will say, though, is that the allegory drawn is in its own way comparable to certain points in the most well-known works of those two venerable Christian fantasy writers, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.
... and, after the final two chapters inspired me to that half-laughing, half-crying act that womanhood practices so naturally, I have to say that I liked the book.
But some time must go by before I can say more--others need the chance to read it. I need to re-read it, which will not happen immediately; there are three people waiting to read my copy, and I've put a lot of time into Harry Potter lately and should turn my attention to other things.
Happy reading, to all of you still in the process :-)
7.19.2007
I’m No Cassandra Trelawney, But …
In about 31 hours, we will have the very last Harry Potter book.
I’ve worked on predicting Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows since reading HBP over a year ago. Now that the release of the series finale is at hand, my “predictions” have morphed more into thoughts, but here they are. As you'll notice, I'm rooting for a happy ending:
Harry. I think he’ll lay down his life but survive. If I had to bet on whether or not his scar is a Horcrux, my bet would be no--but I’m weighing the lines “Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?” and “[Voldemort] … could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force [love] he detests” and it’s a tough call. Also, the “Lily’s eyes” factor is supposed to be very important; I think that will have to do with his seeing someone through compassion--Snape, maybe?--at a crucial time, gaining him some necessary knowledge for his quest to destroy Voldemort.
Voldemort. He’s going down, oh yes.
Ron. Does something great--I think he’ll take out some key Death Eaters or maybe even a Horcrux. He might even take part in a battle with Voldemort this time. He’ll be there for Harry, and live to tell the tale.
Hermione. That blessed logical brain of hers and her loyal heart will give us a sight of her courage in a way we’ve never seen it before. Then she’ll live to marry Ron, who will eventually get himself together where she’s concerned.
Ginny. She’s going to be there for some battle action. Like she’d stay away! I hope she casts a bat-bogey hex on a Death Eater or two in the process. She’s Harry’s girl for better or worse now, even though he’s felt the need to distance himself while hunting Voldemort (that distance probably won’t last all the way through his search.)
Dumbledore. There’s still the portrait in McGonagall’s new office! That will prove important.
Fred and George. J.K. Rowling has informed us that at least two characters die. These are two of my top bets. But if they go, they’ll go down in the proverbial blaze of glory.
Draco Malfoy. I think he’ll defect to the good side at the last minute and die a hero.
Neville. Also one of my top bets for getting AK’d, but I bet he takes Bellatrix Lestrange with him. If he lives, though, I think he’ll be the one to teach at Hogwarts. Herbology.
Luna. “Ravenclaw will have its day” in the tabloid editor’s daughter--the girl who believes in strange things but represents the house best known for its intelligence. I, personally, hope we get to see a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
Hagrid. My other top bet for “most likely to die.” Which means that Hermione will inherit Grawp. But he’ll be faithful to the last.
Minerva McGonagall. Lives and reigns as good-hearted-but-strict headmistress of Hogwarts.
Percy Weasley. Likely to get knocked off early. He’d better make up with his mom and dad first, the git.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Live to see their grandchildren--Bill and Fleur’s kids, Ron and Hermione’s kids, Harry and Ginny’s kids.
Viktor Krum. Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with Hermione after Ron gets to her, but I bet he finds Harry one of the Horcruxes.
Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. If they live, they are sooo getting married :-D
Mad-Eye Moody. I think the old Auror will have one last good fight, and if he survives it, will get a good retirement somewhere--though he’ll never stop watching for Dark wizards.
Sybill Trelawney. It’s a very bad, bad thing if she gets out of Hogwarts. That will probably happen.
Peter Pettigrew. No way will he make it through this one. But he has a debt to pay to Harry before he gets what is coming to him. A very, very big debt. I don't think he'll jump in front of Harry to protect him, but I do think he'll thwart Voldemort in a somewhat more subtle way.
Severus Snape. Also going to die, but Harry is going to get past this anti-Snape vendetta. Too much of that is bitterness and not enough based on solid evidence. I think Snape is a double agent, all right; mostly evil, but as we all know, there’s something key about his role that Harry doesn’t know about yet (and neither do I.)
That covers my biggest ideas about book 7. I should have that book read by Saturday afternoon, if all goes as planned, and will look forward to posting thoughts sometime in the days following. Got predictions of your own? Let me know.
I’ve worked on predicting Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows since reading HBP over a year ago. Now that the release of the series finale is at hand, my “predictions” have morphed more into thoughts, but here they are. As you'll notice, I'm rooting for a happy ending:
Harry. I think he’ll lay down his life but survive. If I had to bet on whether or not his scar is a Horcrux, my bet would be no--but I’m weighing the lines “Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?” and “[Voldemort] … could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force [love] he detests” and it’s a tough call. Also, the “Lily’s eyes” factor is supposed to be very important; I think that will have to do with his seeing someone through compassion--Snape, maybe?--at a crucial time, gaining him some necessary knowledge for his quest to destroy Voldemort.
Voldemort. He’s going down, oh yes.
Ron. Does something great--I think he’ll take out some key Death Eaters or maybe even a Horcrux. He might even take part in a battle with Voldemort this time. He’ll be there for Harry, and live to tell the tale.
Hermione. That blessed logical brain of hers and her loyal heart will give us a sight of her courage in a way we’ve never seen it before. Then she’ll live to marry Ron, who will eventually get himself together where she’s concerned.
Ginny. She’s going to be there for some battle action. Like she’d stay away! I hope she casts a bat-bogey hex on a Death Eater or two in the process. She’s Harry’s girl for better or worse now, even though he’s felt the need to distance himself while hunting Voldemort (that distance probably won’t last all the way through his search.)
Dumbledore. There’s still the portrait in McGonagall’s new office! That will prove important.
Fred and George. J.K. Rowling has informed us that at least two characters die. These are two of my top bets. But if they go, they’ll go down in the proverbial blaze of glory.
Draco Malfoy. I think he’ll defect to the good side at the last minute and die a hero.
Neville. Also one of my top bets for getting AK’d, but I bet he takes Bellatrix Lestrange with him. If he lives, though, I think he’ll be the one to teach at Hogwarts. Herbology.
Luna. “Ravenclaw will have its day” in the tabloid editor’s daughter--the girl who believes in strange things but represents the house best known for its intelligence. I, personally, hope we get to see a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
Hagrid. My other top bet for “most likely to die.” Which means that Hermione will inherit Grawp. But he’ll be faithful to the last.
Minerva McGonagall. Lives and reigns as good-hearted-but-strict headmistress of Hogwarts.
Percy Weasley. Likely to get knocked off early. He’d better make up with his mom and dad first, the git.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Live to see their grandchildren--Bill and Fleur’s kids, Ron and Hermione’s kids, Harry and Ginny’s kids.
Viktor Krum. Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with Hermione after Ron gets to her, but I bet he finds Harry one of the Horcruxes.
Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. If they live, they are sooo getting married :-D
Mad-Eye Moody. I think the old Auror will have one last good fight, and if he survives it, will get a good retirement somewhere--though he’ll never stop watching for Dark wizards.
Sybill Trelawney. It’s a very bad, bad thing if she gets out of Hogwarts. That will probably happen.
Peter Pettigrew. No way will he make it through this one. But he has a debt to pay to Harry before he gets what is coming to him. A very, very big debt. I don't think he'll jump in front of Harry to protect him, but I do think he'll thwart Voldemort in a somewhat more subtle way.
Severus Snape. Also going to die, but Harry is going to get past this anti-Snape vendetta. Too much of that is bitterness and not enough based on solid evidence. I think Snape is a double agent, all right; mostly evil, but as we all know, there’s something key about his role that Harry doesn’t know about yet (and neither do I.)
That covers my biggest ideas about book 7. I should have that book read by Saturday afternoon, if all goes as planned, and will look forward to posting thoughts sometime in the days following. Got predictions of your own? Let me know.
7.17.2007
Random Moment for the Day
... watching my MS Word auto-correct change "deeper" to "beeper" for no apparent reason. Weird.
I have now finished re-reading all six Harry Potter books, and am working up the list of predictions for posting on Friday.
Three days ...
I have now finished re-reading all six Harry Potter books, and am working up the list of predictions for posting on Friday.
Three days ...
7.11.2007
Harry at the IMAX
Two posts in one week is pretty good for me lately, si? I promise to slow down on the Harry Potter blogs soon and post about other stuff. But these are two very intense weeks for us happy fans.
Last night a group of us went up to Canada for an IMAX showing of The Order of the Phoenix. Here I should say that generally speaking I have not cared much for the movies; my strong appreciation for the books only partially extends to the films, both for technical strength and for story value (besides the fact that they differ so much it's hard for a diehard fan to enjoy the change.) And I definitely wouldn't take young kids to these, especially not this movie.
But I was pleasantly surprised. While some of the acting still falls below standard (the three Dursleys will apparently never learn), for the first time I really enjoyed Gary Oldman in the role of Sirius. Daniel Radcliffe continues to grow into his talent, Rupert Grint did well and Emma Watson is getting the hang of it. But Evanna Lynch as Luna Lovegood was the best surprise of all. The girl came out of nowhere and brought her role to life, even without mentioning Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Since Luna is one of my favorite characters, this helped make the movie for me.
The other great thing belonged specially to the IMAX presentation: the 20 minutes of 3-D through the Department of Mysteries scene, beginning with the flying on thestrals. If any of you HP fans have the chance to see the 3-D IMAX version, believe me, it's worth it.
Of course, there were the usual story abbreviations; particularly notable in the Cho Chang thread. Most of the time, though, considering that they had to fit a 700+ page book into a 2.25 hour film, the cuts made sense. The Weasley twins' spectacular exit, happening on their first major prank instead of the second, was a good example of this. I enjoyed that scene :-) And semi-props to the script-writers for, after cutting so many important Dumbledore lines in the first four films, taking the biggest one out of book 2 and giving it to Sirius.
Other things I really liked:
The book itself still trumps, though. I'm glad to still be working through it, as it'll be nice to go back to the full story for my Great Chronological Re-Read. Current place:
Last night a group of us went up to Canada for an IMAX showing of The Order of the Phoenix. Here I should say that generally speaking I have not cared much for the movies; my strong appreciation for the books only partially extends to the films, both for technical strength and for story value (besides the fact that they differ so much it's hard for a diehard fan to enjoy the change.) And I definitely wouldn't take young kids to these, especially not this movie.
But I was pleasantly surprised. While some of the acting still falls below standard (the three Dursleys will apparently never learn), for the first time I really enjoyed Gary Oldman in the role of Sirius. Daniel Radcliffe continues to grow into his talent, Rupert Grint did well and Emma Watson is getting the hang of it. But Evanna Lynch as Luna Lovegood was the best surprise of all. The girl came out of nowhere and brought her role to life, even without mentioning Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Since Luna is one of my favorite characters, this helped make the movie for me.
The other great thing belonged specially to the IMAX presentation: the 20 minutes of 3-D through the Department of Mysteries scene, beginning with the flying on thestrals. If any of you HP fans have the chance to see the 3-D IMAX version, believe me, it's worth it.
Of course, there were the usual story abbreviations; particularly notable in the Cho Chang thread. Most of the time, though, considering that they had to fit a 700+ page book into a 2.25 hour film, the cuts made sense. The Weasley twins' spectacular exit, happening on their first major prank instead of the second, was a good example of this. I enjoyed that scene :-) And semi-props to the script-writers for, after cutting so many important Dumbledore lines in the first four films, taking the biggest one out of book 2 and giving it to Sirius.
Other things I really liked:
- Dumbledore's Army (superb)
- The rescue of Harry from Privet Drive
- Neville
- Harry's throwing off of Voldemort's attempt to take control of him
- The dementors-in-Little-Whinging scene; Mrs. Figg's reaction was too understated
- Harry actually giving Lucius Malfoy the prophecy
- Dumbledore looking nonplussed at Umbridge
The book itself still trumps, though. I'm glad to still be working through it, as it'll be nice to go back to the full story for my Great Chronological Re-Read. Current place:
"What sort of diversion is it?" asked Ron.
"You'll see, little bro," said Fred, as he and George got up again. "At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow."
7.10.2007
It Finally Happened
After a year and a half, I have at last written a full article on Harry Potter.
Over that year and a half (and before), I have heard plenty of argument for and against the Harry Potter series. There may be little point in my adding a few thoughts to an already overwrought debate. I may convince no one of the good of these books; some people will respect my opinion because they know me, even if they disagree, and those who do not know me will likely continue to hold their own opinions :-P But I had to at least offer mine.
I can respect a difference of opinion about the stories; good, wise people approve and disapprove of almost everything. In regard to the basic question of whether or not the books are good, though, my answer, after a year and a half’s intimate knowledge of the stories, is yes.
Because it is generally Christians who take issue here, I will admit that these are secular books with a basically secular worldview, and due to this there are things for Christian parents to consider. One may disagree here and there with J.K. Rowling on what is right and what is wrong--but her good and evil are truly good and evil in an intensely human form, fraught with very real complexity and underscored by important values. And as I firmly believe, a good story such as this innately reveals truth--yes, even Christian truth.
There was so much that I wanted to say that would not fit inside the 1,000 word limit (my final word count was something like 998.) I wanted to talk over the Jeremiah Films video and the issues I took with it, starting with the fact that the terms “white magic” and “black magic” never appear in the books. I wanted to point out the books’ beautiful emphasis on standing up for what is right, even--if necessary--in the face of authority, and to delineate the strengths and weaknesses of various characters that show off the intricate truths of good and evil in possession of humanity. I wanted to say that I would put these books in league with Alice in Wonderland, The Lord of the Rings and Narnia. I wanted to expound upon the notion of allowing kids to grow into the books gradually, and why I think it such a good idea.
I didn’t have time, so I’m saying it briefly here. I will not ask anyone to read these books, unless they plan to speak publicly against them. But I am a Christian, and I am in favor of the books, and when I have children at a certain level of discernment they will be allowed to read the books as well.
Check out the full article here at Silhouette.
Current place in The Great Chronological Harry Potter Re-Read:
Over that year and a half (and before), I have heard plenty of argument for and against the Harry Potter series. There may be little point in my adding a few thoughts to an already overwrought debate. I may convince no one of the good of these books; some people will respect my opinion because they know me, even if they disagree, and those who do not know me will likely continue to hold their own opinions :-P But I had to at least offer mine.
I can respect a difference of opinion about the stories; good, wise people approve and disapprove of almost everything. In regard to the basic question of whether or not the books are good, though, my answer, after a year and a half’s intimate knowledge of the stories, is yes.
Because it is generally Christians who take issue here, I will admit that these are secular books with a basically secular worldview, and due to this there are things for Christian parents to consider. One may disagree here and there with J.K. Rowling on what is right and what is wrong--but her good and evil are truly good and evil in an intensely human form, fraught with very real complexity and underscored by important values. And as I firmly believe, a good story such as this innately reveals truth--yes, even Christian truth.
There was so much that I wanted to say that would not fit inside the 1,000 word limit (my final word count was something like 998.) I wanted to talk over the Jeremiah Films video and the issues I took with it, starting with the fact that the terms “white magic” and “black magic” never appear in the books. I wanted to point out the books’ beautiful emphasis on standing up for what is right, even--if necessary--in the face of authority, and to delineate the strengths and weaknesses of various characters that show off the intricate truths of good and evil in possession of humanity. I wanted to say that I would put these books in league with Alice in Wonderland, The Lord of the Rings and Narnia. I wanted to expound upon the notion of allowing kids to grow into the books gradually, and why I think it such a good idea.
I didn’t have time, so I’m saying it briefly here. I will not ask anyone to read these books, unless they plan to speak publicly against them. But I am a Christian, and I am in favor of the books, and when I have children at a certain level of discernment they will be allowed to read the books as well.
Check out the full article here at Silhouette.
Current place in The Great Chronological Harry Potter Re-Read:
"'Come on, the quicker we get on the bus the better,' said Tonks, and Harry thought there was nervousness in the glance she threw around the square. Lupin flung out his arm.
BANG.
A violently purple, triple-decker bus had appeared out of thin air in front of them, narrowly avoiding the nearest lamppost, which jumped backward out of its way."
6.28.2007
Hebrew and Busyness (and HP)
After three weeks of a six-week beginner's class, I wrote my first two sentences in Biblical Hebrew today. Here is the second:
No, seriously, it does. My teacher, Rachael, loves the books as much as I do. She laughed out loud when I wrote that up on the board. And that was as close as I could get to saying that we "talked about ...". I don't know whether that is how one would say "talked" in Hebrew or not; mostly, I just wanted to get all the vowels in the right places and not make too many mistakes on the words. Which I did, actually--one of those words is out of order, now that I think about it, and Rachael already corrected the ending on it. All part of learning, I guess!
Rachael has us reading Genesis 37 for practice at recognizing the letters; the story of Joseph's dream. Learning to pick out words--pronouns, roots, noun gender and conjunctions--fascinates me, as does working with its alphabet. And to begin to "read" the Bible in its original language ... Too bad the class is only six weeks :-)
Current place in TGCHPRR:
It says: "Rachael and I said words about Harry Potter."
No, seriously, it does. My teacher, Rachael, loves the books as much as I do. She laughed out loud when I wrote that up on the board. And that was as close as I could get to saying that we "talked about ...". I don't know whether that is how one would say "talked" in Hebrew or not; mostly, I just wanted to get all the vowels in the right places and not make too many mistakes on the words. Which I did, actually--one of those words is out of order, now that I think about it, and Rachael already corrected the ending on it. All part of learning, I guess!
Rachael has us reading Genesis 37 for practice at recognizing the letters; the story of Joseph's dream. Learning to pick out words--pronouns, roots, noun gender and conjunctions--fascinates me, as does working with its alphabet. And to begin to "read" the Bible in its original language ... Too bad the class is only six weeks :-)
Current place in TGCHPRR:
"Back in the kitchen, Moody had replaced his eye, which was spinning so fast after its cleaning it made Harry feel sick. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers. Lupin was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys."
6.19.2007
Mid-June Miscellany
The sun has come back, after hiding behind some very wet, cold clouds this past week or more. Its return makes me think that my sleepiness for the past several days has had less to do with lack of sleep and more to do with lack of light and color. I do love summer.
We can all agree that there should be less of certain types of physical contact happening around our school systems, but this goes beyond absurd to literally unhealthy. It goes to show that the more society loosens its morals, the more rules (especially stupid ones :-P) it is forced to put in place to protect its citizens. Still ... who thought that was a good idea?
Well worth reading: this post by the Saint; which controverts, for instance, the fuss of "experts" that "we are shaped by our environment", like that's intrinsically a bad thing.
Current place in TGCHPRR:
We can all agree that there should be less of certain types of physical contact happening around our school systems, but this goes beyond absurd to literally unhealthy. It goes to show that the more society loosens its morals, the more rules (especially stupid ones :-P) it is forced to put in place to protect its citizens. Still ... who thought that was a good idea?
Well worth reading: this post by the Saint; which controverts, for instance, the fuss of "experts" that "we are shaped by our environment", like that's intrinsically a bad thing.
Current place in TGCHPRR:
"Lupin's office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The grindylow's empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Harry knocked on the door.
'I saw you coming', said Lupin, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder's Map."
6.12.2007
Books and Papers
Perhaps, in my last post, I should have defined the word soon.
About a week ago, though, a new post of mine went up on Silhouette. Feel free to check it out :-) ...In other Silhouette news, Justin made Relevant Magazine with his excellent post "Mourning Eve", Naomi has intriguingly delineated personality types at the bowling alley and worked Anne of Green Gables into the mix, and Jessi has asked us all what is on our must-read list this summer (girl after my own heart! When I have a little spare time to leave a comment, I'll tell her about Harry Potter and the Confessions of St. Augustine.) There's more good reading there too.
Current position in The Great Chronological HP Re-Read:
About a week ago, though, a new post of mine went up on Silhouette. Feel free to check it out :-) ...In other Silhouette news, Justin made Relevant Magazine with his excellent post "Mourning Eve", Naomi has intriguingly delineated personality types at the bowling alley and worked Anne of Green Gables into the mix, and Jessi has asked us all what is on our must-read list this summer (girl after my own heart! When I have a little spare time to leave a comment, I'll tell her about Harry Potter and the Confessions of St. Augustine.) There's more good reading there too.
Current position in The Great Chronological HP Re-Read:
"Harry was watching the painting. A fat, dapple-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. Harry was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit one another, but he always enjoyed watching it. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armor clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off."
5.31.2007
The Time Has Come
...to start, once again, where it all began:
"Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much...."
And no, I have not forgotten about my blog, or tired of it. I will return. Soon.
"Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much...."
And no, I have not forgotten about my blog, or tired of it. I will return. Soon.
5.19.2007
Jerry Falwell
I didn't know too much about the man, to be honest, though my heart goes out to his family right now.
But after seeing the way his death has been handled in the media spotlight, I'm inclined to cheer at the remarks of Ann Coulter and Kathy Shaidle. At the very least, I found their comments refreshing. The Bellingham Herald article was so ghastly that even a coworker of mine not known around the office for his conservativism said laughingly that maybe someone who liked Falwell should have written out his life-timeline.
Ahh, I do love a little right sarcasm, though. It lifts the spirit, and besides, it made me laugh out loud. These articles are worth reading the whole way through, but here are a couple of highlights:
Ann Coulter:
"From the news coverage of Falwell's death, I began to suspect his first name was "Whether You Agree With Him or Not"...
Let me be the first to say: I ALWAYS agreed with the Rev. Falwell.
Actually, there was one small item I think Falwell got wrong regarding his statement after 9-11 that "the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians – who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle – the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say, 'You helped this happen.'"
First of all, I disagreed with that statement because Falwell neglected to specifically include Teddy Kennedy and "the Reverend" Barry Lynn."
Kathy Shaidle:
"Lastly: everyone is replaying Falwell's post-9/11 remarks. Had I been Falwell, I'd have said instead: "For once, let's give homosexuals, abortionists, radical feminists, the ACLU and the People for the American Way a hand, everybody. After all, this is the first major tragedy in the last 50 years that they had absolutely nothing to do with..."
Funny thing is, Falwell turned out to be absolutely correct in his own weird way: leftists are falling all over each other to side with radical Muslims now. The Left had nothing to do with September 11, 2001 -- but from September 12/01 to today, they've been trying to make up for THAT ball drop, big time."
But after seeing the way his death has been handled in the media spotlight, I'm inclined to cheer at the remarks of Ann Coulter and Kathy Shaidle. At the very least, I found their comments refreshing. The Bellingham Herald article was so ghastly that even a coworker of mine not known around the office for his conservativism said laughingly that maybe someone who liked Falwell should have written out his life-timeline.
Ahh, I do love a little right sarcasm, though. It lifts the spirit, and besides, it made me laugh out loud. These articles are worth reading the whole way through, but here are a couple of highlights:
Ann Coulter:
"From the news coverage of Falwell's death, I began to suspect his first name was "Whether You Agree With Him or Not"...
Let me be the first to say: I ALWAYS agreed with the Rev. Falwell.
Actually, there was one small item I think Falwell got wrong regarding his statement after 9-11 that "the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians – who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle – the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say, 'You helped this happen.'"
First of all, I disagreed with that statement because Falwell neglected to specifically include Teddy Kennedy and "the Reverend" Barry Lynn."
Kathy Shaidle:
"Lastly: everyone is replaying Falwell's post-9/11 remarks. Had I been Falwell, I'd have said instead: "For once, let's give homosexuals, abortionists, radical feminists, the ACLU and the People for the American Way a hand, everybody. After all, this is the first major tragedy in the last 50 years that they had absolutely nothing to do with..."
Funny thing is, Falwell turned out to be absolutely correct in his own weird way: leftists are falling all over each other to side with radical Muslims now. The Left had nothing to do with September 11, 2001 -- but from September 12/01 to today, they've been trying to make up for THAT ball drop, big time."
5.15.2007
Montana Miscellany
To anyone who wonders why I've failed to post much in the past two weeks, I can explain in part at least by saying that last week was spent in Montana, where computer access never quite made the priority list.
Congratulations to my 'best friend' Briana, newly-graduated photography major, for whose celebrations of achievement I made the trip! If you've never checked out her work, you can view some of it by clicking here.
Montana owed me after its cold--literally, 15 below zero--welcome last time. The Big Sky State made up for its less-than-affectionate treatment of a former resident by treating me to sunshine, highs in the 70s at least, and a couple of spectacular thunderstorms. Briana and I took refuge in the library during Thursday's storm, watched the rain and lightning out the windows, and fell asleep in chairs in one of the reading corners.
It's hard to believe, now, that I've lived in Washington as long as I lived in Montana. Maybe childhood always seems longer in looking back than other dispensations of life. Be that as it may, Briana and her family are of the kindred-spirit sort that with them, the conversation and habits of friendship fall into their natural, relaxed ways with little regard for the passage of time.
Even after a fair amount of experience, it still amazes me that only a couple of hours took me from my sister's goodbye to my friend's hello, hundreds of miles away; that the same brief amount of time took me from my friend's hug on sunlit Montana tarmac to my boyfriend's kiss under slate-gray Seattle skies.
Flying back--maybe because of the extra 5,000-foot-drop in elevation--always turns my hearing inside out so things sound louder inside my head than entering my ears from outside. This is a royal annoyance when, upon getting off the plane, one goes straight to church service in a cathedral with an real (not synthesized) pipe organ. That beautiful instrument still sounded good, though.
On my last night in Montana, a bunch of us stayed up way too late watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Mr. Bell and I punctuated the movie with regular interjections like these: "Nothing like the book", "Not in the book", and "Funny, but not in the book." I'd forgotten how far the movies' scenes deviated from the events in the books. Order of the Phoenix is probably going to make me angry, but I plan to watch it anyway.
I did notice one thing, though, from that re-watch of movie #3: the scene where Lupin points out that Harry has his mother's eyes. Somewhere I seem to recall hearing that J. K. Rowling commented on that little conversation as basically prophetic. Here's the quote, thanks to www.imdb.com:
"You know the very first time I saw you, Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, by your eyes. They're your mother, Lily's. Yes, oh yes. I knew her. Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others ... Most especially when that person couldn't see it in themselves.... You are more like [your parents] than you know, Harry. In time you'll come to see just how much. "
That made me think. I've been considering the importance of Harry's inheritance of "Lily's eyes" as having to do with others looking in, not Harry looking out. Hmmm...
Sixty-seven days and counting!
Congratulations to my 'best friend' Briana, newly-graduated photography major, for whose celebrations of achievement I made the trip! If you've never checked out her work, you can view some of it by clicking here.
Montana owed me after its cold--literally, 15 below zero--welcome last time. The Big Sky State made up for its less-than-affectionate treatment of a former resident by treating me to sunshine, highs in the 70s at least, and a couple of spectacular thunderstorms. Briana and I took refuge in the library during Thursday's storm, watched the rain and lightning out the windows, and fell asleep in chairs in one of the reading corners.
It's hard to believe, now, that I've lived in Washington as long as I lived in Montana. Maybe childhood always seems longer in looking back than other dispensations of life. Be that as it may, Briana and her family are of the kindred-spirit sort that with them, the conversation and habits of friendship fall into their natural, relaxed ways with little regard for the passage of time.
Even after a fair amount of experience, it still amazes me that only a couple of hours took me from my sister's goodbye to my friend's hello, hundreds of miles away; that the same brief amount of time took me from my friend's hug on sunlit Montana tarmac to my boyfriend's kiss under slate-gray Seattle skies.
Flying back--maybe because of the extra 5,000-foot-drop in elevation--always turns my hearing inside out so things sound louder inside my head than entering my ears from outside. This is a royal annoyance when, upon getting off the plane, one goes straight to church service in a cathedral with an real (not synthesized) pipe organ. That beautiful instrument still sounded good, though.
On my last night in Montana, a bunch of us stayed up way too late watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Mr. Bell and I punctuated the movie with regular interjections like these: "Nothing like the book", "Not in the book", and "Funny, but not in the book." I'd forgotten how far the movies' scenes deviated from the events in the books. Order of the Phoenix is probably going to make me angry, but I plan to watch it anyway.
I did notice one thing, though, from that re-watch of movie #3: the scene where Lupin points out that Harry has his mother's eyes. Somewhere I seem to recall hearing that J. K. Rowling commented on that little conversation as basically prophetic. Here's the quote, thanks to www.imdb.com:
"You know the very first time I saw you, Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, by your eyes. They're your mother, Lily's. Yes, oh yes. I knew her. Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others ... Most especially when that person couldn't see it in themselves.... You are more like [your parents] than you know, Harry. In time you'll come to see just how much. "
That made me think. I've been considering the importance of Harry's inheritance of "Lily's eyes" as having to do with others looking in, not Harry looking out. Hmmm...
Sixty-seven days and counting!
5.13.2007
Happy Mothers' Day
...to the woman who taught me darn near everything I know
and whose love for me has held unwavering for well over 29 years.
Love you, Mom.
and whose love for me has held unwavering for well over 29 years.
Love you, Mom.
5.03.2007
New Post
There is a new post of mine over at Silhouette, in case you want to see it. This post, however, has more to do with my shame at having not posted last weekend (or any time since the weekend before.)
Silhouette has me really excited, though. There's some good writing among these bloggers, most of whose work I'm just getting to know. We've got quite an eclectic group, both in style and perspective, and it's well worth checking out.
On a totally unrelated topic, I need to figure out when to start my compulsory chronological re-read of the first six Harry Potter books in honor of the upcoming finale. The reading needs to conclude near the release date for book 7, but not go past it. It took me one month, the first time, to read all six books at least once (three of them might as well have been twice) but that needs cushioning nowadays in consideration of other demands upon my time and the fact that I know how all of those end now.
What can I say? I finally found something to be good and nerdy about. My boyfriend finally picked one up for the first time tonight. He's only just made it past Hagrid's first revelation to Harry, but I'm all curious to hear what he thinks ;-D
Silhouette has me really excited, though. There's some good writing among these bloggers, most of whose work I'm just getting to know. We've got quite an eclectic group, both in style and perspective, and it's well worth checking out.
On a totally unrelated topic, I need to figure out when to start my compulsory chronological re-read of the first six Harry Potter books in honor of the upcoming finale. The reading needs to conclude near the release date for book 7, but not go past it. It took me one month, the first time, to read all six books at least once (three of them might as well have been twice) but that needs cushioning nowadays in consideration of other demands upon my time and the fact that I know how all of those end now.
What can I say? I finally found something to be good and nerdy about. My boyfriend finally picked one up for the first time tonight. He's only just made it past Hagrid's first revelation to Harry, but I'm all curious to hear what he thinks ;-D
4.21.2007
Heroes and the Stories Worth Reading
"In order to preserve the vigor of the moral faculty, it is of the utmost consequence to keep young people as ignorant as possible of the crimes that are generally thought most disgraceful to human nature. Suicide, I believe, is often propagated by means of newspapers. For this reason, I should be glad to see the proceedings of our courts kept from the public eye when they expose or punish monstrous vices." --Benjamin Rush*
We've all heard far more than necessary about Cho Seung-Hui; frankly, I think a brief mention of his name in the bottom corner of some newspaper article would have been enough. "Murderer identified as Cho S. &c; senior at VA Tech" covered all the information anyone other than his poor parents needed to hear. Heaven knows, keeping the information to that sentence might have offered them some much-needed mercy.
The current journalistic culture of "too much information", which has so willingly provided us with the ability to peruse the internal workings of a diseased mind, only arouses morbid curiosity. "But it raises awareness", someone will say. Sure it does--especially in those most likely to repeat such a crime by imitation. If anybody wants awareness, a simple list of warning signs of such mental disorder will suffice. Awareness itself is no cure, anyway, but that's a subject for another time.
Here are the real stories of the Virginia Tech shooting, the ones worth telling and re-telling. You've heard them, I'm sure, but here they are again:
Professor Liviu Librescu, survivor of the Nazi Holocaust, barricaded a classrom door with his own body and told his students to flee. His intervention allowed several young people to escape through the windows before he was gunned down. He died on Holocaust Remembrance Day, giving his life to save others.
Ryan Clark, resident adviser in the dorm where the shooting began, in the words of one friend "would do anything to help [his friends]..." He died coming to the aid of another student.
Zach Petkewicz is still alive, as are all the other members of his class--because upon hearing the shots come closer, he came out from behind the teacher's podium, where he'd initially hidden, and got his fellow students to help him push a table against the door. The gunman managed to crack the door just enough to empty a clip of bullets into the room, but Zach and the others continued to push against him. After reloading, Cho went looking for easier prey, leaving Zach's class unharmed.
Those are the people we should hear most about; theirs are the minds that should be brought to public attention and revealed for awareness' sake. They--like Columbine student Cassie Bernall, who admitted her faith in God despite the gun held to her head, and who died at the hands of Cho's idea of a martyr and hero--are the people we should remember.
Just one more thing: The most insightful piece I've seen on the Virginia Tech shooting yet is this little post on grieving by Kathy Shaidle, a conservative Christian commentator from Toronto. Though she doesn't write gently, she put down some real truth in this article. Give me "Amazing Grace" over "My Heart Will Go On" any day.
* from "An Inquiry into the Influence of Physical Causes upon the Moral Faculty", 1786; quoted from Benjamin Rush: Signer of the Declaration of Independence by David Barton, 1999 WallBuilders Press, p. 122
We've all heard far more than necessary about Cho Seung-Hui; frankly, I think a brief mention of his name in the bottom corner of some newspaper article would have been enough. "Murderer identified as Cho S. &c; senior at VA Tech" covered all the information anyone other than his poor parents needed to hear. Heaven knows, keeping the information to that sentence might have offered them some much-needed mercy.
The current journalistic culture of "too much information", which has so willingly provided us with the ability to peruse the internal workings of a diseased mind, only arouses morbid curiosity. "But it raises awareness", someone will say. Sure it does--especially in those most likely to repeat such a crime by imitation. If anybody wants awareness, a simple list of warning signs of such mental disorder will suffice. Awareness itself is no cure, anyway, but that's a subject for another time.
Here are the real stories of the Virginia Tech shooting, the ones worth telling and re-telling. You've heard them, I'm sure, but here they are again:
Professor Liviu Librescu, survivor of the Nazi Holocaust, barricaded a classrom door with his own body and told his students to flee. His intervention allowed several young people to escape through the windows before he was gunned down. He died on Holocaust Remembrance Day, giving his life to save others.
Ryan Clark, resident adviser in the dorm where the shooting began, in the words of one friend "would do anything to help [his friends]..." He died coming to the aid of another student.
Zach Petkewicz is still alive, as are all the other members of his class--because upon hearing the shots come closer, he came out from behind the teacher's podium, where he'd initially hidden, and got his fellow students to help him push a table against the door. The gunman managed to crack the door just enough to empty a clip of bullets into the room, but Zach and the others continued to push against him. After reloading, Cho went looking for easier prey, leaving Zach's class unharmed.
Those are the people we should hear most about; theirs are the minds that should be brought to public attention and revealed for awareness' sake. They--like Columbine student Cassie Bernall, who admitted her faith in God despite the gun held to her head, and who died at the hands of Cho's idea of a martyr and hero--are the people we should remember.
Just one more thing: The most insightful piece I've seen on the Virginia Tech shooting yet is this little post on grieving by Kathy Shaidle, a conservative Christian commentator from Toronto. Though she doesn't write gently, she put down some real truth in this article. Give me "Amazing Grace" over "My Heart Will Go On" any day.
* from "An Inquiry into the Influence of Physical Causes upon the Moral Faculty", 1786; quoted from Benjamin Rush: Signer of the Declaration of Independence by David Barton, 1999 WallBuilders Press, p. 122
4.14.2007
Silhouette
"I enjoy the medium of writing," my friend Justin wrote in a recent email; a sentiment that has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. Justin was writing to invite me as well as several other literary- and/or journalistic-minded friends to join a new group blogazine, a place to share our thoughts by way of the pen (or keyboard, in this case.)
I would like to invite all of you to drop by and read it; visit regularly, if you're so inclined. This has me totally excited, not only because I get to participate but because of the caliber of young writers in on it. There should be articles going up at least weekly, as all of us signed on for an article-per-month commitment.
Without further ado, then: Welcome to Silhouette. Hopefully you all find something to inspire, ponder, or at least enjoy.
Oh, and for anyone who doesn't recognize the name difference, I'm posting there under my nickname, "Jenna". For a direct link to my first article, Finding My Religion, click here.
I would like to invite all of you to drop by and read it; visit regularly, if you're so inclined. This has me totally excited, not only because I get to participate but because of the caliber of young writers in on it. There should be articles going up at least weekly, as all of us signed on for an article-per-month commitment.
Without further ado, then: Welcome to Silhouette. Hopefully you all find something to inspire, ponder, or at least enjoy.
Oh, and for anyone who doesn't recognize the name difference, I'm posting there under my nickname, "Jenna". For a direct link to my first article, Finding My Religion, click here.
4.10.2007
Lent Ends, Easter Begins
There's nothing quite like forty days of sacrifice to drive home the significance of Easter.
I've got to admit, it feels great to be able to read and talk about Harry Potter again. It feels so great that I've already re-set my IM and xanga pics to Hermione, spent some time reading Harry-related articles on Wikipedia, and have again watched the trailer for movie # 5. Maybe I'll even put a couple of lines from "Weasley is our King" (Gryffindor version) or some random Luna Lovegood line up as my IM quote tomorrow.
Before I get accused of blasphemy, though, let me hasten to explain that while Harry has certainly brightened up my work week, Easter itself meant so much to me this year that I can hardly find words to express it. I've always liked the holiday anyway--belting out the good old hymns like a proper Baptist in a packed-out church, spending time with family in the afternoon.
This year, I attended the Easter Triduum service--split into three parts over Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil (Saturday). All three sessions carry so much symbolism as to make themselves extremely powerful; so much so that I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't attended one and might someday. I'll just say that I was deeply moved; moved to tears several times on Easter Vigil night. That service began at 9 PM, well after dark, and my favorite part was when the music began to brighten and swell, the lights came on in the church, and the church bells--silent since Thursday--rang out in the fullness of Easter joy.
The rest of Saturday and Sunday were so well filled with happy time among my family and Lou's (that's the Saint's real name) that I never managed to blog. All in all, I had a truly blessed weekend. I hope the same for all of you.
P.S. ...Can anyone top this record? I finally took my Christmas nativity scene down... today. I've heard of Christmas trees on Valentine's day, but crèche on Easter is a new low for me.
I've got to admit, it feels great to be able to read and talk about Harry Potter again. It feels so great that I've already re-set my IM and xanga pics to Hermione, spent some time reading Harry-related articles on Wikipedia, and have again watched the trailer for movie # 5. Maybe I'll even put a couple of lines from "Weasley is our King" (Gryffindor version) or some random Luna Lovegood line up as my IM quote tomorrow.
Before I get accused of blasphemy, though, let me hasten to explain that while Harry has certainly brightened up my work week, Easter itself meant so much to me this year that I can hardly find words to express it. I've always liked the holiday anyway--belting out the good old hymns like a proper Baptist in a packed-out church, spending time with family in the afternoon.
This year, I attended the Easter Triduum service--split into three parts over Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil (Saturday). All three sessions carry so much symbolism as to make themselves extremely powerful; so much so that I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't attended one and might someday. I'll just say that I was deeply moved; moved to tears several times on Easter Vigil night. That service began at 9 PM, well after dark, and my favorite part was when the music began to brighten and swell, the lights came on in the church, and the church bells--silent since Thursday--rang out in the fullness of Easter joy.
The rest of Saturday and Sunday were so well filled with happy time among my family and Lou's (that's the Saint's real name) that I never managed to blog. All in all, I had a truly blessed weekend. I hope the same for all of you.
P.S. ...Can anyone top this record? I finally took my Christmas nativity scene down... today. I've heard of Christmas trees on Valentine's day, but crèche on Easter is a new low for me.
4.01.2007
Gotta Say This...
Brief explanation: The Lenten fast does not apply to Sundays. It's not cheating, I promise... ask your local priest :-)
Anyway, I'm taking a Sunday break from my Lenten fast not to tell you that the new Harry Potter cover has been announced--everybody knows that--but just to say that this looks great:
Anyway, I'm taking a Sunday break from my Lenten fast not to tell you that the new Harry Potter cover has been announced--everybody knows that--but just to say that this looks great:
3.26.2007
Well Worth Reading
The Saint posted this article yesterday, and I am still pondering through the ideas. He put forth a very clear picture of what real Christianity is up against in America (or anywhere in Western society, really), and he did it from a perspective I don't often hear.
Here's a sample:
"Liberal democracy allows you a great deal of freedom to practice your religion according to the dictates of your conscience, but, in the end, you must do so alone. You can have a family and a church, but they must remain collections of autonomous individuals. The right of an individual to practice his religion has seldom been under question, but the right of a family or church to educate its children, to define acceptable moral behavior for its members and choose its clergy often seems to be only grudgingly granted."
In a world where individual satisfaction is valued over morality and virtue, where suffering of any sort is considered the single greatest evil, and where the passions of youth are glorified and gratified in utter disregard of the wisdom of the aged: this is a radical concept.
I doubt even a large part of Christianity would be willing to agree fully with the ideas in this article.
Anyway, the post comes highly recommended from this direction! Enjoy the reading.
Here's a sample:
"Liberal democracy allows you a great deal of freedom to practice your religion according to the dictates of your conscience, but, in the end, you must do so alone. You can have a family and a church, but they must remain collections of autonomous individuals. The right of an individual to practice his religion has seldom been under question, but the right of a family or church to educate its children, to define acceptable moral behavior for its members and choose its clergy often seems to be only grudgingly granted."
In a world where individual satisfaction is valued over morality and virtue, where suffering of any sort is considered the single greatest evil, and where the passions of youth are glorified and gratified in utter disregard of the wisdom of the aged: this is a radical concept.
I doubt even a large part of Christianity would be willing to agree fully with the ideas in this article.
Anyway, the post comes highly recommended from this direction! Enjoy the reading.
3.25.2007
It was Good Enough for Aretha…
While goofing off on my computer the other day, I ran across this article by Martha Brockenbrough. As it referred to movie princesses, I could hardly resist reading it… there’s still a lot of little girl in me :-D
Normally Martha Brockenbrough’s work makes me laugh, and I got some chuckles out of this piece. So I won’t criticize it thoroughly, although it’s clear she’s either never seen The Princess Diaries (first or second) all the way through or she’s mixed it up with another storyline.
But, while the probably-innocent-but-rather-drastic misinterpretation of one of my favorite movies annoyed me mildly, the question that has haunted me ever since is one that, if spoken too loudly, could easily draw a fair share of feminist ire. I’m not normally fond of being intentionally and overtly controversial, but this one just bugs me.
Here’s the question: What’s so bad about a girl wanting to be rescued?
The obvious answer given, of course, is that a woman should be capable of taking care of herself and confidently in control of her own destiny. The problem is that reality limits the practicability of such things.
No, I’m not advocating ignorance, stupidity or inanity for women. I happen to like being sensible and educated. Part of any decent education for girls, however, is an understanding of vulnerability: feminine, as well as human, vulnerability. Every daughter should be taught keen character judgment and an eye for what sort of man is worth investing herself in, as well as which girls make good friends. She should also learn of the danger of going certain places alone; that it’s a good idea for a girl to keep her head up, her eyes open and a can of mace at close command when walking from house to car in the dark, and that it’s even better in certain situations for her to have a man walking with her.
That, however, just begins the issue of feminine vulnerability. Women are, and always have been, susceptible to attack in ways men are either not or are less so. Not simply physically, but emotionally as well: with the strength of a fine-tuned sensitivity to feeling comes the dangers of too-natural tendencies toward overdependency or tolerance of abuse.
The feminists and I agree that abuse and chronic neediness should not exist. But the feminists go wrong in propagating the idea that a woman can become whole by entirely throwing off the ‘shackles’ of patriarchy. While a woman can (and should be able to) live unshattered without the presence of husband or father or brother in some immediate form of protective role, women who choose this or do it too well usually lose something of the feminine softness and sensitivity that portrays grace to the world.
Centrally, that softness has nothing to do with the stereotypical doormat-submission or wilting-flower mentality, nor any reference to the clichéd comparison between the tree-climbing tomboy and the parlor-dweller. It is, however, an indispensable part of woman’s beauty. And real possession of that female grace depends on a girl’s acceptance of her own vulnerability.
With few exceptions, the single women I’ve known either hold out the hope for a man to come through for them (with varying degrees of realistic expectations) or bitch with the other gals about how men have let them down.
The idea that a girl should kick down every door in her path and save herself by herself is standard Hollywood idealism nowadays, marketed generally to girls old enough to have tasted some bitterness in relating to men. While most women want to show off some toughness and independence—along with stunning beauty—the whole girl-to-her-own-lonely-rescue ideal just doesn’t fit fully with the girl heart, and it doesn’t replace what a girl loses in refusing to accept the strength of masculinity that offers her protection.
Like it or not, a woman’s heart contains the desire to be fought for and rescued by a man. And without that, a woman is—quite simply—missing out.
“…Unknit that threatening unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor!
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads…”
–Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew
Normally Martha Brockenbrough’s work makes me laugh, and I got some chuckles out of this piece. So I won’t criticize it thoroughly, although it’s clear she’s either never seen The Princess Diaries (first or second) all the way through or she’s mixed it up with another storyline.
But, while the probably-innocent-but-rather-drastic misinterpretation of one of my favorite movies annoyed me mildly, the question that has haunted me ever since is one that, if spoken too loudly, could easily draw a fair share of feminist ire. I’m not normally fond of being intentionally and overtly controversial, but this one just bugs me.
Here’s the question: What’s so bad about a girl wanting to be rescued?
The obvious answer given, of course, is that a woman should be capable of taking care of herself and confidently in control of her own destiny. The problem is that reality limits the practicability of such things.
No, I’m not advocating ignorance, stupidity or inanity for women. I happen to like being sensible and educated. Part of any decent education for girls, however, is an understanding of vulnerability: feminine, as well as human, vulnerability. Every daughter should be taught keen character judgment and an eye for what sort of man is worth investing herself in, as well as which girls make good friends. She should also learn of the danger of going certain places alone; that it’s a good idea for a girl to keep her head up, her eyes open and a can of mace at close command when walking from house to car in the dark, and that it’s even better in certain situations for her to have a man walking with her.
That, however, just begins the issue of feminine vulnerability. Women are, and always have been, susceptible to attack in ways men are either not or are less so. Not simply physically, but emotionally as well: with the strength of a fine-tuned sensitivity to feeling comes the dangers of too-natural tendencies toward overdependency or tolerance of abuse.
The feminists and I agree that abuse and chronic neediness should not exist. But the feminists go wrong in propagating the idea that a woman can become whole by entirely throwing off the ‘shackles’ of patriarchy. While a woman can (and should be able to) live unshattered without the presence of husband or father or brother in some immediate form of protective role, women who choose this or do it too well usually lose something of the feminine softness and sensitivity that portrays grace to the world.
Centrally, that softness has nothing to do with the stereotypical doormat-submission or wilting-flower mentality, nor any reference to the clichéd comparison between the tree-climbing tomboy and the parlor-dweller. It is, however, an indispensable part of woman’s beauty. And real possession of that female grace depends on a girl’s acceptance of her own vulnerability.
With few exceptions, the single women I’ve known either hold out the hope for a man to come through for them (with varying degrees of realistic expectations) or bitch with the other gals about how men have let them down.
The idea that a girl should kick down every door in her path and save herself by herself is standard Hollywood idealism nowadays, marketed generally to girls old enough to have tasted some bitterness in relating to men. While most women want to show off some toughness and independence—along with stunning beauty—the whole girl-to-her-own-lonely-rescue ideal just doesn’t fit fully with the girl heart, and it doesn’t replace what a girl loses in refusing to accept the strength of masculinity that offers her protection.
Like it or not, a woman’s heart contains the desire to be fought for and rescued by a man. And without that, a woman is—quite simply—missing out.
“…Unknit that threatening unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor!
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads…”
–Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew
3.18.2007
Ramblings of the Week
Today, having forgotten some of the blogging-inspiration that hit me often during the week but never near available time, I asked my sister Beth what I should blog about. She reeled off quite a list, including experiencing writer's block, the coming of spring, my favorite-song-of-the-week, and her own sense of losing her mind due to the impending arrival of finals week. "Or you could write," she said, "about how you've always wanted to get onto a rowing team, and how you didn't know how to get onto a rowing team because you couldn't swim." I had opened my mouth to protest that I actually do have some rudimentary swimming ability when she added "And by you, I mean me."
She can swim as well as I can. And rowing could be fun. You get to be in a boat, much like raft guiding (which I have done) but you don't have to worry about what moving water does when it hits rocks, submerged train cars and low-head dams. Not being much of a thrill-seeker, I like the sound of that.
Beth is right about spring coming, and it makes me happy. The early-blooming pink and white trees, which people tell me are cherry trees, are blossoming extravagantly right now. Other signs of returning warmth have appeared as well. The Saint and I took a walk up into the forest today, and I found leaf-buds poking their way out of the end of branches. A robin hopped along the side of the path and watched us, too. Robins mean spring generally, although the Saint says they never really go away around here. I like that about Washington.
Beth is also right about me and writer's block. One song has me stuck now, trying to arrange my ideas; other emotions have so far totally refused to submit to the form of words and melody. I'll corner them yet.
As for a favorite song of the week, I'll just say that after ten years of reigning as my favorite female vocalist, LeAnn Rimes has to make some room at the top for Hayley Westenra. Hayley deserves congratulations for being the first artist to make me buy two CDs at once. I particularly love the "Prayer" off of Odyssey and... well, most of the Pure CD. When she got around to singing "Heaven" on Pure, I have to admit it brought tears to my eyes. Right there at my desk at work.
Speaking of music, we sang Amazing Grace in church today. Five verses. Though twenty-nine years of being a Baptist had taught me to belt out four verses with my eyes closed, I hadn't heard this one since childhood:
The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.
I liked it. And I liked singing it with the Saint, on our knees. Or maybe we'd just stood up out of kneeling... anyway, it was good.
As to whether anyone can lose their mind, over finals or anything else, and still find the wit to make me laugh out loud... I leave it to yourselves to determine.
She can swim as well as I can. And rowing could be fun. You get to be in a boat, much like raft guiding (which I have done) but you don't have to worry about what moving water does when it hits rocks, submerged train cars and low-head dams. Not being much of a thrill-seeker, I like the sound of that.
Beth is right about spring coming, and it makes me happy. The early-blooming pink and white trees, which people tell me are cherry trees, are blossoming extravagantly right now. Other signs of returning warmth have appeared as well. The Saint and I took a walk up into the forest today, and I found leaf-buds poking their way out of the end of branches. A robin hopped along the side of the path and watched us, too. Robins mean spring generally, although the Saint says they never really go away around here. I like that about Washington.
Beth is also right about me and writer's block. One song has me stuck now, trying to arrange my ideas; other emotions have so far totally refused to submit to the form of words and melody. I'll corner them yet.
As for a favorite song of the week, I'll just say that after ten years of reigning as my favorite female vocalist, LeAnn Rimes has to make some room at the top for Hayley Westenra. Hayley deserves congratulations for being the first artist to make me buy two CDs at once. I particularly love the "Prayer" off of Odyssey and... well, most of the Pure CD. When she got around to singing "Heaven" on Pure, I have to admit it brought tears to my eyes. Right there at my desk at work.
Speaking of music, we sang Amazing Grace in church today. Five verses. Though twenty-nine years of being a Baptist had taught me to belt out four verses with my eyes closed, I hadn't heard this one since childhood:
The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.
I liked it. And I liked singing it with the Saint, on our knees. Or maybe we'd just stood up out of kneeling... anyway, it was good.
As to whether anyone can lose their mind, over finals or anything else, and still find the wit to make me laugh out loud... I leave it to yourselves to determine.
3.11.2007
Another Good Chesterton Quote
...not from Orthodoxy this time, although there's about half a chapter of that I'd like to put in here, if only I had the time and space...
I came across this, rather randomly, in a book by John Stott the other day, and liked it too much not to share it.
"You say grace before meals.
All right.
But I say grace before the play and the opera,
And grace before the concert and pantomime,
And grace before I open a book,
And grace before sketching, painting,
Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;
And grace before I dip the pen in the ink."
Quoted in Dudley Barker, G. K. Chesterton, A Biography (Constable, 1973), p. 65, from unpublished notebook jottings.
Stott, J. (1996; 2007). The Message of 1 Timothy and Titus (115). Inter-Varsity Press.
I came across this, rather randomly, in a book by John Stott the other day, and liked it too much not to share it.
"You say grace before meals.
All right.
But I say grace before the play and the opera,
And grace before the concert and pantomime,
And grace before I open a book,
And grace before sketching, painting,
Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;
And grace before I dip the pen in the ink."
Quoted in Dudley Barker, G. K. Chesterton, A Biography (Constable, 1973), p. 65, from unpublished notebook jottings.
Stott, J. (1996; 2007). The Message of 1 Timothy and Titus (115). Inter-Varsity Press.
Of course, Chesterton, a Catholic, said grace before meals too... just in case anybody wondered :-)
3.04.2007
This Week 3/4/07
Numerous times this week I have found myself thinking "Oh, I should post that..." Posting, however, or even catching up with the internet, has not made it from the "want to do" list to the "have to do" list (about half of which has not been done, either.) Here, though, are the things I have thought of posting, in chronological order:
Tuesday: A pound of butter fell out of my freezer and landed on my foot. As to why that amused me enough to want to tell everybody, however, I have no idea.
Thursday: My inner child and I are in close touch. I can tell, because this, which I found in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha*, makes me snicker:
"25 [Ben Bag-Bag said: Turn it, and turn it again, for the whole is in it, and the whole of thee is in it; and from it swerve not, for there is to thee no greater good than it.]
26 [Ben He-He said: According to the toil is the pay.]"
Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. 2004 (R. H. Charles, Ed.) (2:710). Logos Research Systems, Inc.
* pseud•epig•ra•phon noun plural pseud•epig•ra•pha 2. any of various pseudonymous or anonymous Jewish religious writings of the period 200 b.c. to 200 a.d.; especially : one of such writings (as the Psalms of Solomon) not included in any canon of biblical Scripture — usually used in plural
Merriam-Webster, I. (1996, c1993). Merriam-Webster's collegiate dictionary. Includes index. (10th ed.). Springfield, Mass., U.S.A.: Merriam-Webster.
Friday: Spent an hour in silent prayer at one of the most beautiful old churches in town. The importance of beauty in church design is a topic for another post; about this evening, however, I will simply say that on my knees before Christ I felt more strongly than I have in three years like I stood on solid rock in my faith. Feeling (by itself), of course, while it guarantees neither reality nor future perseverance, does matter and does help. God forbid that I underrate the power of a sense of confidence in Him when, since the close of 2003, faith has too often been a matter of desperate and almost hopeless clinging. Friday night I felt like that lackluster determination had finally been reinforced by the brilliancy of sincere and unclouded hope and trust. All I can say is Thank God.
Saturday: Beth and I watched Stranger than Fiction, and I couldn't tell you how long it's been since I saw a new romantic comedy that good. Maybe not since Return to Me. Be forewarned, ye who would watch: there's about thirty seconds of time dedicated to achieving its PG-13 rating. Get past that and you've got a great story: artistically and mentally interesting, hilarious, and poignant--I don't often catch myself caring so deeply about what happens to a character. You'll love Harold Crick too; you don't have to be a Will Ferrell fan to do so.
Sunday: Celebrated the birthday, though a few days late, of one of the greatest and humblest men on earth; a man who has lived and worked quietly, selflessly, faithfully for God and his family through the course of many years; a pastor at heart, a fireman and EMT, a wealth of skill towards house and home, body and soul--my father. Happy Birthday, Dad.
Tuesday: A pound of butter fell out of my freezer and landed on my foot. As to why that amused me enough to want to tell everybody, however, I have no idea.
Thursday: My inner child and I are in close touch. I can tell, because this, which I found in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha*, makes me snicker:
"25 [Ben Bag-Bag said: Turn it, and turn it again, for the whole is in it, and the whole of thee is in it; and from it swerve not, for there is to thee no greater good than it.]
26 [Ben He-He said: According to the toil is the pay.]"
Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. 2004 (R. H. Charles, Ed.) (2:710). Logos Research Systems, Inc.
* pseud•epig•ra•phon noun plural pseud•epig•ra•pha 2. any of various pseudonymous or anonymous Jewish religious writings of the period 200 b.c. to 200 a.d.; especially : one of such writings (as the Psalms of Solomon) not included in any canon of biblical Scripture — usually used in plural
Merriam-Webster, I. (1996, c1993). Merriam-Webster's collegiate dictionary. Includes index. (10th ed.). Springfield, Mass., U.S.A.: Merriam-Webster.
Friday: Spent an hour in silent prayer at one of the most beautiful old churches in town. The importance of beauty in church design is a topic for another post; about this evening, however, I will simply say that on my knees before Christ I felt more strongly than I have in three years like I stood on solid rock in my faith. Feeling (by itself), of course, while it guarantees neither reality nor future perseverance, does matter and does help. God forbid that I underrate the power of a sense of confidence in Him when, since the close of 2003, faith has too often been a matter of desperate and almost hopeless clinging. Friday night I felt like that lackluster determination had finally been reinforced by the brilliancy of sincere and unclouded hope and trust. All I can say is Thank God.
Saturday: Beth and I watched Stranger than Fiction, and I couldn't tell you how long it's been since I saw a new romantic comedy that good. Maybe not since Return to Me. Be forewarned, ye who would watch: there's about thirty seconds of time dedicated to achieving its PG-13 rating. Get past that and you've got a great story: artistically and mentally interesting, hilarious, and poignant--I don't often catch myself caring so deeply about what happens to a character. You'll love Harold Crick too; you don't have to be a Will Ferrell fan to do so.
Sunday: Celebrated the birthday, though a few days late, of one of the greatest and humblest men on earth; a man who has lived and worked quietly, selflessly, faithfully for God and his family through the course of many years; a pastor at heart, a fireman and EMT, a wealth of skill towards house and home, body and soul--my father. Happy Birthday, Dad.
2.23.2007
One Year
This blog is one year old today!
By-the-bye, I wonder how many of my posts, percentage-wise, have talked about milestones... probably a pretty high number there. Ah well.
One year with this little online journal, and today I enjoy it just as much as at the beginning. It keeps me in perspective, somehow; forcing myself to write and think through things keeps my mind from getting caught in analytical whirlpools :-)
At any rate, it's a good thing for me, and now and again someone tells me there's something good about it for them as well. Here's to many more years of blogging!
By-the-bye, I wonder how many of my posts, percentage-wise, have talked about milestones... probably a pretty high number there. Ah well.
One year with this little online journal, and today I enjoy it just as much as at the beginning. It keeps me in perspective, somehow; forcing myself to write and think through things keeps my mind from getting caught in analytical whirlpools :-)
At any rate, it's a good thing for me, and now and again someone tells me there's something good about it for them as well. Here's to many more years of blogging!
2.22.2007
My Sister Blogs
...shocking, for those of you who know Beth :-P
Anyways, she posted a blog on her Myspace tonight and it made me laugh, so I decided to share it. Click here for Beth's thoughts on listening to music.
Love y'all!
Anyways, she posted a blog on her Myspace tonight and it made me laugh, so I decided to share it. Click here for Beth's thoughts on listening to music.
Love y'all!
2.20.2007
First Lent
Having grown up Baptist, I understand Christmas and Easter and know a little bit about Palm Sunday and Advent. Lent, however, as the acknowledged territory mainly of liturgically-driven churches such as Catholics, Anglicans, and Lutherans, has always been a bit of a mystery.
This year, therefore, I’m celebrating my first Lent, which starts tomorrow with Ash Wednesday. I'm pretty excited about it; there's an incredible awe and joy in taking a physical step intended to express and nourish spiritual devotion. I've fasted before, of course, so I'm at least familiar with that concept.
For my first Lenten season, I am giving up… dun duh dah… Harry Potter. Hopefully that doesn't sound blasphemous to anyone! I can understand concern about how Harry Potter takes a position in my life strong enough merit fasting from, though, so let me explain my rationale here :-)
I am choosing to go forty days without Harry Potter (except Sundays, which are free from fasting) because reading the Harry Potter books, as well as talking and thinking and reading about Harry and company, is for me a mode of relaxation and enjoyment. Some people play computer games, some people watch this or that TV show, some people eat chocolate. I thought about giving up chocolate, actually, but every girl does that; besides, chocolate for me ranks not in the category of mere wants, but basic needs :-P The point is, anyway, that I read Harry Potter for uplifting and an antidote to stress when my brain won’t handle much else. I go get a laugh at the exploits of Harry and friends or borrow some inspiration from their courage. I have also read the books quite a bit in the year and a quarter since I first brought home The Sorcerer's Stone, so a break seemed like a good idea.
While I could have chosen fiction in general as my sacrifice, that seemed more likely to accentuate stress rather than spur on devotion for me. Since I rarely watch movies or television, reading fiction is almost my only means of complete relaxation. And probably if this were not such a big year for Harry—with the release of movie #5 and the final book coming in July—the series’ effect on my life wouldn’t really qualify for sacrifice over such a limited time.
As it is, however, from Ash Wednesday to Easter I am not reading any of the books, following news (anything big that comes up can be reviewed on Sundays only), looking Harry up on Wikipedia or fan sites, or initiating conversations about the series. I will also remove Hermione from my IM pictures and should probably take her off my Xanga, too, come to think of it. If all this proves ‘too easy’ for me, I’ll add to the sacrifice for holy week.
Anyway, here’s to my first Lent. God grant that I find more of Christ through it…
This year, therefore, I’m celebrating my first Lent, which starts tomorrow with Ash Wednesday. I'm pretty excited about it; there's an incredible awe and joy in taking a physical step intended to express and nourish spiritual devotion. I've fasted before, of course, so I'm at least familiar with that concept.
For my first Lenten season, I am giving up… dun duh dah… Harry Potter. Hopefully that doesn't sound blasphemous to anyone! I can understand concern about how Harry Potter takes a position in my life strong enough merit fasting from, though, so let me explain my rationale here :-)
I am choosing to go forty days without Harry Potter (except Sundays, which are free from fasting) because reading the Harry Potter books, as well as talking and thinking and reading about Harry and company, is for me a mode of relaxation and enjoyment. Some people play computer games, some people watch this or that TV show, some people eat chocolate. I thought about giving up chocolate, actually, but every girl does that; besides, chocolate for me ranks not in the category of mere wants, but basic needs :-P The point is, anyway, that I read Harry Potter for uplifting and an antidote to stress when my brain won’t handle much else. I go get a laugh at the exploits of Harry and friends or borrow some inspiration from their courage. I have also read the books quite a bit in the year and a quarter since I first brought home The Sorcerer's Stone, so a break seemed like a good idea.
While I could have chosen fiction in general as my sacrifice, that seemed more likely to accentuate stress rather than spur on devotion for me. Since I rarely watch movies or television, reading fiction is almost my only means of complete relaxation. And probably if this were not such a big year for Harry—with the release of movie #5 and the final book coming in July—the series’ effect on my life wouldn’t really qualify for sacrifice over such a limited time.
As it is, however, from Ash Wednesday to Easter I am not reading any of the books, following news (anything big that comes up can be reviewed on Sundays only), looking Harry up on Wikipedia or fan sites, or initiating conversations about the series. I will also remove Hermione from my IM pictures and should probably take her off my Xanga, too, come to think of it. If all this proves ‘too easy’ for me, I’ll add to the sacrifice for holy week.
Anyway, here’s to my first Lent. God grant that I find more of Christ through it…
2.17.2007
Schrödinger's Bedroom
Calling all AI fans! Even if you're not a regular American Idol watcher, though, keep reading--I've still got something for you.
FOX Network welcomes its new show, On the Lot, in the spring. Formatted just like American Idol--I wonder, by-the-bye, who they'll get to make offbeat analogies and harsh "realistic" comments, since presumably Simon Cowell won't be one of the judges--this talent competition will be for movie directors.
Which brings me to my friend Chris Knight, whose movie-making credentials include a hilarious 50-minute Star Wars fan film called "Forcery" and several school-board campaign commercials, one of which included a scene of a Death Star blowing up a schoolhouse and which got him in the New York Times for creativity.
Chris is auditioning with a five-minute short by the title of "Schrödinger's Bedroom" --a piece which he wrote, casted, shot, edited, and submitted in only a month. If you want a laugh, go over and check it out. If you're an AI fan (or movie fan, for that matter) and you think On the Lot might be interesting too--since I don't mind shamelessly plugging for friends with talent, I'll suggest you watch for Chris there, too :-)
And just in case you don't feel I've given you enough reasons to see this little movie yet: for those of you who tell me you read this blog, at least, I can guarantee that someone you know made a cameo appearance :-D
FOX Network welcomes its new show, On the Lot, in the spring. Formatted just like American Idol--I wonder, by-the-bye, who they'll get to make offbeat analogies and harsh "realistic" comments, since presumably Simon Cowell won't be one of the judges--this talent competition will be for movie directors.
Which brings me to my friend Chris Knight, whose movie-making credentials include a hilarious 50-minute Star Wars fan film called "Forcery" and several school-board campaign commercials, one of which included a scene of a Death Star blowing up a schoolhouse and which got him in the New York Times for creativity.
Chris is auditioning with a five-minute short by the title of "Schrödinger's Bedroom" --a piece which he wrote, casted, shot, edited, and submitted in only a month. If you want a laugh, go over and check it out. If you're an AI fan (or movie fan, for that matter) and you think On the Lot might be interesting too--since I don't mind shamelessly plugging for friends with talent, I'll suggest you watch for Chris there, too :-)
And just in case you don't feel I've given you enough reasons to see this little movie yet: for those of you who tell me you read this blog, at least, I can guarantee that someone you know made a cameo appearance :-D
2.12.2007
Not Posting about Not Posting
Standard operating procedure for bloggers who don't post faithfully is to put up a post about not posting faithfully, so I'm going to be a bit of a rebel, and post about something else.
For tonight, considering the current proximity to midnight, I don't have much to offer beyond the weather; so I'll just say that after ten Washington winters, I would not have expected pleasure at the sight of rain. This year's two full weeks of snow, however, binding me to the (albeit generous) WTA schedule for work, confining the Saint and I in different parts of town, and forcing me to get creative with canned chicken and tomato sauce, have given me a new appreciation for the normal 'rainy season.' I can drive my car without fear for either its or my own safety in the rain. And I have to admit that this beautiful little corner of the country even looks good in gray--gray with a green cast along the lawns and among the conifers, and occasional cream-colored scoring in the clouds.
I'm still holding out for summer, though. We had a glorious weekend--so warm that I took a walk in the sunshine without a coat. Spring is coming! 36 days and counting...
For tonight, considering the current proximity to midnight, I don't have much to offer beyond the weather; so I'll just say that after ten Washington winters, I would not have expected pleasure at the sight of rain. This year's two full weeks of snow, however, binding me to the (albeit generous) WTA schedule for work, confining the Saint and I in different parts of town, and forcing me to get creative with canned chicken and tomato sauce, have given me a new appreciation for the normal 'rainy season.' I can drive my car without fear for either its or my own safety in the rain. And I have to admit that this beautiful little corner of the country even looks good in gray--gray with a green cast along the lawns and among the conifers, and occasional cream-colored scoring in the clouds.
I'm still holding out for summer, though. We had a glorious weekend--so warm that I took a walk in the sunshine without a coat. Spring is coming! 36 days and counting...
2.04.2007
2.01.2007
We've Got A Date
At eleven, he learned who he was, made friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and faced again the man who, ten years earlier, had killed his parents and tried to kill him.
At twelve, he won a battle with a basilisk and saved the life of his best friend’s sister, Ginny.
At thirteen, he learned to face his own fears and saved the life of his godfather.
At fourteen, he jumped out from behind a tombstone to face a battle he knew he would probably lose—and lived to warn the world.
At fifteen, he taught self-defense to his classmates in secret, against the rules of the wicked usurping headmistress.
At sixteen he saved Ron’s life, realized finally what Ginny meant to him, and received the knowledge of the plan of action from Dumbledore, practically as an inheritance.
What will Harry Potter do at seventeen?
We’ll find out July 21, 2007.
(Thanks, Chris, for letting me know! I would have been shamefully behind the times if you hadn’t.)
1.27.2007
Thoughts of Summertime
During my childhood, it used to bother me that my birthday came in winter. This may have had more to do with schoolwork than weather; nowadays, though, around here at least, the typical chill gray of the season could be considered a negative factor.
Today, however, I walked out my door to find bright summer sunshine, despite the frost on the ground. I drove up to the DOL to get my driver's license renewed, since it expired today (I procrastinate a lot, in case any of you didn't notice), and though the DOL wouldn't be my usual favorite choice of locations to kick off any special day, Joe at the counter treated me very kindly and I got a picture that won't disgrace me horribly for the next five years.
For some reason I'm in a happy mood. No, not for some reason, but for many reasons: sunshine and laughter and hope and love and peace, a riotously funny evening with a pack of great girlfriends last night, time set aside to spend with my family and the Saint this afternoon, simple prayers and blessed joys.
The day is young, and for some reason I find myself haunted--as often happens when the purest happy moments come over me--by the fear of its being marred or shattered as I know can happen in a matter of seconds. Everybody has their besetting sins, I guess; fear is mine. "Do not worry," Jesus said, "because who of you by worrying can add a single cubit to his life's span?"
So I'm going to stop. And I will go put my sheets in the wash and play my guitar or piano a bit and enjoy the fact that, after three weeks of having a cold, I can finally sing again. The return of my voice is no small gift to me; I've missed it dreadfully.
This prayer--perhaps my favorite of all the new little rites of Christian worship that I've learned in the past two months--speaks my thoughts beautifully today. I am overwhelmed by thankfulness.
"Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning,
is now and ever shall be,
world without end,
Amen."
Today, however, I walked out my door to find bright summer sunshine, despite the frost on the ground. I drove up to the DOL to get my driver's license renewed, since it expired today (I procrastinate a lot, in case any of you didn't notice), and though the DOL wouldn't be my usual favorite choice of locations to kick off any special day, Joe at the counter treated me very kindly and I got a picture that won't disgrace me horribly for the next five years.
For some reason I'm in a happy mood. No, not for some reason, but for many reasons: sunshine and laughter and hope and love and peace, a riotously funny evening with a pack of great girlfriends last night, time set aside to spend with my family and the Saint this afternoon, simple prayers and blessed joys.
The day is young, and for some reason I find myself haunted--as often happens when the purest happy moments come over me--by the fear of its being marred or shattered as I know can happen in a matter of seconds. Everybody has their besetting sins, I guess; fear is mine. "Do not worry," Jesus said, "because who of you by worrying can add a single cubit to his life's span?"
So I'm going to stop. And I will go put my sheets in the wash and play my guitar or piano a bit and enjoy the fact that, after three weeks of having a cold, I can finally sing again. The return of my voice is no small gift to me; I've missed it dreadfully.
This prayer--perhaps my favorite of all the new little rites of Christian worship that I've learned in the past two months--speaks my thoughts beautifully today. I am overwhelmed by thankfulness.
"Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning,
is now and ever shall be,
world without end,
Amen."
1.17.2007
The Wonders of Air Travel... and other stories
"Arthur, is that you?"
"Yes", came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"
"...All right, all right... What is your dearest ambition?"
"To find out how airplanes stay up."
I personally don't fully understand how airplanes stay up, but nonetheless I enjoy flying. It amazes me that two hours in a plane can take me from this state that has been my home for over ten years and put me back in the town in which I grew up, which I've seen only once in all that time. Just two hours, and I stand beside she who has been the truest of friends for nineteen years, and the family to which I could always turn if something happened to my own--people whom I rarely see because of the seven hundred miles between us.
Normally one should choose summer, not winter, to visit Montana. Last time I flew in, a blizzard came with me; this time, I rode in on the wings of the coldest spell they've had probably since I left. At below-zero temperatures, the very oxygen seems to freeze and the skin inside of noses crinkles in disgust. But since it had snowed--again--in Bellingham, snow and cold in Montana didn't seem such a big deal. Snow in Bellingham stops life. Snow in Montana is just part of living.
Cold or not, though, the wedding for which I made the trip was beautiful, and the visit with my friends thoroughly precious to me. Even though Briana and I can pick up the phone after weeks or even a couple of months and talk like we'd never left off, getting to see her in person is better yet. Five days, blessing though they were, were not long enough.
They did end, though, and another two hours of airplane ride brought me back to Washington and the Saint, whom, I must confess, I missed rather constantly; and my parents, whom I still miss because this dadburn cold I've got has prevented me from making my regular trip to their house for two weeks running.
For now, I'm tired and going to bed. Before I do, though, here's what happened with the snapping turtle, for all of you who asked:
My family used to live next to a lake in Florida, which was great until the alligators set up housekeeping in the cattails. We used to fish the lake a lot, and one day Dad and my uncle caught a snapping turtle. Beth and I, aged about three and five at the time, were playing in the yard. Dad and my uncle chopped off the turtle's head and the turtle took off running right at Beth and I. We ran away from it, shrieking, and both of us will swear that it followed us in a circle. That may be purely coincidental, of course, but I dare anyone to hold their ground under similar circumstances :-)
"Yes", came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"
"...All right, all right... What is your dearest ambition?"
"To find out how airplanes stay up."
I personally don't fully understand how airplanes stay up, but nonetheless I enjoy flying. It amazes me that two hours in a plane can take me from this state that has been my home for over ten years and put me back in the town in which I grew up, which I've seen only once in all that time. Just two hours, and I stand beside she who has been the truest of friends for nineteen years, and the family to which I could always turn if something happened to my own--people whom I rarely see because of the seven hundred miles between us.
Normally one should choose summer, not winter, to visit Montana. Last time I flew in, a blizzard came with me; this time, I rode in on the wings of the coldest spell they've had probably since I left. At below-zero temperatures, the very oxygen seems to freeze and the skin inside of noses crinkles in disgust. But since it had snowed--again--in Bellingham, snow and cold in Montana didn't seem such a big deal. Snow in Bellingham stops life. Snow in Montana is just part of living.
Cold or not, though, the wedding for which I made the trip was beautiful, and the visit with my friends thoroughly precious to me. Even though Briana and I can pick up the phone after weeks or even a couple of months and talk like we'd never left off, getting to see her in person is better yet. Five days, blessing though they were, were not long enough.
They did end, though, and another two hours of airplane ride brought me back to Washington and the Saint, whom, I must confess, I missed rather constantly; and my parents, whom I still miss because this dadburn cold I've got has prevented me from making my regular trip to their house for two weeks running.
For now, I'm tired and going to bed. Before I do, though, here's what happened with the snapping turtle, for all of you who asked:
My family used to live next to a lake in Florida, which was great until the alligators set up housekeeping in the cattails. We used to fish the lake a lot, and one day Dad and my uncle caught a snapping turtle. Beth and I, aged about three and five at the time, were playing in the yard. Dad and my uncle chopped off the turtle's head and the turtle took off running right at Beth and I. We ran away from it, shrieking, and both of us will swear that it followed us in a circle. That may be purely coincidental, of course, but I dare anyone to hold their ground under similar circumstances :-)
1.09.2007
Five Things
Chris Knight tagged me with this game. As required, here are five things you probably didn’t know about me:
1. I have been chased by a headless snapping turtle.
2. I have never conquered my irrational childhood fear of swimming pool drains. The same fear even niggles at me around hot tub jets and bathtub drains.
3. The author’s genes kicked in early for me. When I was about 5 or 6, I used to do my own narration in 3rd person, for instance: “She walked down the stairs and turned on the light.”
4. Instead of taking a teddy bear to bed with me as a little girl, I used to take my Breyer horses.
5. The first two songs I ever wrote were both written solely because someone else I knew had written a song, and I figured “What the heck—if they can do it, so can I.”
Now, who can I tag?… or rather, who would probably actually do this? I’ll tag Briana and Tina.
1. I have been chased by a headless snapping turtle.
2. I have never conquered my irrational childhood fear of swimming pool drains. The same fear even niggles at me around hot tub jets and bathtub drains.
3. The author’s genes kicked in early for me. When I was about 5 or 6, I used to do my own narration in 3rd person, for instance: “She walked down the stairs and turned on the light.”
4. Instead of taking a teddy bear to bed with me as a little girl, I used to take my Breyer horses.
5. The first two songs I ever wrote were both written solely because someone else I knew had written a song, and I figured “What the heck—if they can do it, so can I.”
Now, who can I tag?… or rather, who would probably actually do this? I’ll tag Briana and Tina.
1.05.2007
Readings
My favorite part about bad head colds is the amount of reading I can accomplish when forced to lay flat on my back for two days straight. I have been known to read a full-length Jane Austen novel in a day and a half of sprawling on the couch with hot tea and Kleenex.
Excluding the couple of times when I felt well enough to crawl over to my computer and look at the Internet or my Libronix, I’ve spent most of the past two days in bed. For that purpose, I armed myself with far more books than I could read in a week, but managed to get through at least a little of each: Orthodoxy by Chesterton, The Confessions of St. Augustine, my Bible, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, A New Song from the Mitford Years series, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and Jane Eyre.
That sort of list, folks, is much of the reasoning behind my always having pictures of Hermione Granger on my MSN Messenger and my Xanga.
Speaking of Harry Potter, and thinking of the newly-revealed title of book 7: I seem to have a vague memory of hearing the word “Hallows” used to mean ‘salutation’ or ‘greeting’ somewhere. Did I dream this, or has anyone else heard of such a thing? My dictionary gives me no such hint. I thought I’d read it in Jane Eyre, but couldn’t find it by reading the pages of that book where I thought it had been.
Anyway, that booklist has kept me busy. I have laughed, pondered, worked on my predictions for HP book 7, researched the concept of purgatory, wrestled with philosophy, and when the inevitable head-cold fog descended too heavily on my brain, dropped it all to just to read the stories I’ve read and enjoyed over and over again.
I devoted much of today to Chesterton, seeing as how I got distracted from him some weeks ago. I read about a third of the book, and if laughter is the best medicine, he contributed towards my recovery nicely. For instance:
“Mr. McCabe thinks me a slave because I am not allowed to believe in determinism. I think Mr. McCabe a slave because he is not allowed to believe in fairies.”
The humor, however, goes along with some very important points, of which this was a favorite of mine:
“…what we suffer from today is humility in the wrong place. Modesty has moved from the organ of ambition. Modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction; where it was never meant to be. A man was meant to be doubtful about himself, but undoubting about the truth; this has been exactly reversed.”
That very error is how I once nearly lost my faith. He could not be more correct about the dangers of such misplaced humility. God grant me the courage and grace to remove every last remnant of that mistake from myself.
Books… how I love them. What would I do without them? No, don’t tell me: I don’t even want to know the answer to that question.
Excluding the couple of times when I felt well enough to crawl over to my computer and look at the Internet or my Libronix, I’ve spent most of the past two days in bed. For that purpose, I armed myself with far more books than I could read in a week, but managed to get through at least a little of each: Orthodoxy by Chesterton, The Confessions of St. Augustine, my Bible, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, A New Song from the Mitford Years series, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and Jane Eyre.
That sort of list, folks, is much of the reasoning behind my always having pictures of Hermione Granger on my MSN Messenger and my Xanga.
Speaking of Harry Potter, and thinking of the newly-revealed title of book 7: I seem to have a vague memory of hearing the word “Hallows” used to mean ‘salutation’ or ‘greeting’ somewhere. Did I dream this, or has anyone else heard of such a thing? My dictionary gives me no such hint. I thought I’d read it in Jane Eyre, but couldn’t find it by reading the pages of that book where I thought it had been.
Anyway, that booklist has kept me busy. I have laughed, pondered, worked on my predictions for HP book 7, researched the concept of purgatory, wrestled with philosophy, and when the inevitable head-cold fog descended too heavily on my brain, dropped it all to just to read the stories I’ve read and enjoyed over and over again.
I devoted much of today to Chesterton, seeing as how I got distracted from him some weeks ago. I read about a third of the book, and if laughter is the best medicine, he contributed towards my recovery nicely. For instance:
“Mr. McCabe thinks me a slave because I am not allowed to believe in determinism. I think Mr. McCabe a slave because he is not allowed to believe in fairies.”
The humor, however, goes along with some very important points, of which this was a favorite of mine:
“…what we suffer from today is humility in the wrong place. Modesty has moved from the organ of ambition. Modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction; where it was never meant to be. A man was meant to be doubtful about himself, but undoubting about the truth; this has been exactly reversed.”
That very error is how I once nearly lost my faith. He could not be more correct about the dangers of such misplaced humility. God grant me the courage and grace to remove every last remnant of that mistake from myself.
Books… how I love them. What would I do without them? No, don’t tell me: I don’t even want to know the answer to that question.
1.03.2007
Transparent Angling Ferrets
In case you couldn't tell by the title, this post is for amusement only.
I bring this topic up because Beth texted those words to me today, in this sentence: "How 'bout them transparent angling ferrets?"
Perhaps some of you may remember my commenting here once about my frequent mis-hearing of song lyrics. In case you don't, let me repeat: I have always had a problem hearing lyrics and getting them correct. It's better if I just look them up.
The above line, for instance, comes from the Alanis Morissette song "Thank You" and what she really says is "transparent dangling carrots."
In reply to Beth's text message, for anyone who wants to know, I said "They go well with ghosts and gravy." "Ghosts and Gravy" for a long time was all I could make out of the song "Constant Craving," which I didn't like much anyway. Hopefully it doesn't run through my head all night now.
My most recent lyric mistake has occurred listening to Celine Dion sing Ave Maria. She performs that beautiful hymn fabulously, but she can't possibly be saying "The monkey caverns, they're so happy."
*sigh* ...there's nothing like a little creative listening :-)
I bring this topic up because Beth texted those words to me today, in this sentence: "How 'bout them transparent angling ferrets?"
Perhaps some of you may remember my commenting here once about my frequent mis-hearing of song lyrics. In case you don't, let me repeat: I have always had a problem hearing lyrics and getting them correct. It's better if I just look them up.
The above line, for instance, comes from the Alanis Morissette song "Thank You" and what she really says is "transparent dangling carrots."
In reply to Beth's text message, for anyone who wants to know, I said "They go well with ghosts and gravy." "Ghosts and Gravy" for a long time was all I could make out of the song "Constant Craving," which I didn't like much anyway. Hopefully it doesn't run through my head all night now.
My most recent lyric mistake has occurred listening to Celine Dion sing Ave Maria. She performs that beautiful hymn fabulously, but she can't possibly be saying "The monkey caverns, they're so happy."
*sigh* ...there's nothing like a little creative listening :-)
1.01.2007
Anno Domini 2007
[Sweet... I do know some Latin!]
Upon welcoming in a new year, I find myself looking back over the old... nothing so uncommon, I suppose. Even if the traditions of Jennifer didn't dictate such a thing, though, I would have to look back over 2006 and wonder over the things it held for me: my first full year living on my own, the start of this blog, new work, some intensive rebuilding of the foundations of my faith, a number of little lifetime milestone 'firsts', and new experiences of loss, finding, love, and hope.
I rang in this New Year in true American and Washingtonian style: in the presence of friends, blowing on a noisemaker, sipping champagne, watching the televised fireworks off the Space Needle, and praying. Next to me stood the Saint, with whom I have so recently begun learning of the old truths of love and faith in new ways.
A whole new year always brings me an odd mix of hope and fear, which has only grown over the last several years as I've learned how quickly life can change either for joy or for sorrow. Still:
"...in Thy book they were all written,
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them."
--Psalm 139
I hope many things for this year. I hope to see my beloved friend and her family in a couple of weeks in attendance at her sister's wedding. I hope to meet Chris and Lisa Knight, who have somehow managed to find their way into my circle of close friends despite our geographic separation. I hope to read the final chapter in the Harry Potter series. I hope to find my faith at the end of this year yet more built up and solid. I hope for God's continued work in the Saint and I and our relationship. I hope to keep blogging here, at least as faithfully as this year. And I hope for many things for those dear to me as well.
So... to all of you, and especially to those of you whom I know and love, Happy New Year of Our Lord 2007. I am not wishing you too little when I wish you as blessed as myself.
Upon welcoming in a new year, I find myself looking back over the old... nothing so uncommon, I suppose. Even if the traditions of Jennifer didn't dictate such a thing, though, I would have to look back over 2006 and wonder over the things it held for me: my first full year living on my own, the start of this blog, new work, some intensive rebuilding of the foundations of my faith, a number of little lifetime milestone 'firsts', and new experiences of loss, finding, love, and hope.
I rang in this New Year in true American and Washingtonian style: in the presence of friends, blowing on a noisemaker, sipping champagne, watching the televised fireworks off the Space Needle, and praying. Next to me stood the Saint, with whom I have so recently begun learning of the old truths of love and faith in new ways.
A whole new year always brings me an odd mix of hope and fear, which has only grown over the last several years as I've learned how quickly life can change either for joy or for sorrow. Still:
"...in Thy book they were all written,
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them."
--Psalm 139
I hope many things for this year. I hope to see my beloved friend and her family in a couple of weeks in attendance at her sister's wedding. I hope to meet Chris and Lisa Knight, who have somehow managed to find their way into my circle of close friends despite our geographic separation. I hope to read the final chapter in the Harry Potter series. I hope to find my faith at the end of this year yet more built up and solid. I hope for God's continued work in the Saint and I and our relationship. I hope to keep blogging here, at least as faithfully as this year. And I hope for many things for those dear to me as well.
So... to all of you, and especially to those of you whom I know and love, Happy New Year of Our Lord 2007. I am not wishing you too little when I wish you as blessed as myself.
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