Deo Gratias, Part II

The second half of the wedding was just as good as the first :)

Lou and I each hugged our parents at the top of the aisle. Dad put back the blusher on my veil, and here he is handing me off to Lou:


... and we made our way up the altar stairs for the welcome.

Casey took this shot of the full church from the choir loft in the back.

Dad St. Hilaire gave the first reading, which came from the Song of Solomon. Lou and I picked out the readings together; this one had some of my favorite verses from the great Song. "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear in the earth ... For love is as strong as death, and jealousy is as severe as Sheol ... Many waters cannot quench love; nor can the floods drown it."

Then John led us in the singing of Psalm 148—a song of pure praise.

Lou's brother Terry did the second reading, which came from 1 John 4. "In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us ... Beloved, if God so loved us, so we ought to love one another."

John led us in the Easter Alleluia, and Father Qui-Thac read the Gospel. For this we chose John 17, Jesus' high-priestly prayer. In a room filled with Christians divided by the events of the sixteenth century, and with some who profess other faiths or no faith, the prayer of Christ for His Church seemed wholly appropriate. "The glory which Thou hast given to Me, I have given to them, that they may be one even as We are one ... that the world may know that Thou didst send Me."

Our pastor, Fr. Scott, gave the homily, reading from letters he had asked Lou and I to write him about why we had chosen the readings we did and why we had chosen each other:

From there, Fr. Scott returned to his seat. When he stood up again, we all rose and Lou and I and our wedding party ascended the altar stairs again, this time for the vows. "For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part."

Having my dad, who is a licensed Baptist minister, lead the exchange of rings, was Fr. Scott's idea. I thought it was brilliant. It's always been important for me to have my dad take part in my wedding ceremony. Dad, for the great love he bore his daughter, swallowed his fears of being too emotional to get through it and agreed. He led the little exchange beautifully.

"Louis, take this ring as a sign of my love and affection, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

And we were married.

My new cousin, Fr. Kenny, gave us our nuptial blessing.

We sealed it with the customary kiss—and very sweet it was, too.

Fr. Scott presented us as "Mr. and Mrs. Louis St. Hilaire", and my new nephews led the way out as the congregation sang "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee".

"Mortals join the mighty chorus
Which the morning stars began ..."

As the crowd made their way out onto the front lawn, Fr. Scott presided over the signing of the marriage licenses.

When that was finished, Beth and Andy led us outside, where the Knights of Columbus gave their 4th Degree member/former Grand Knight and his bride an honor guard. Seriously ... it's hard to top having cool guys with swords around ;)

Casey took this shot of us out on the front lawn, where Lou kissed me joyfully in front of everybody. That's not a Wal-Mart backdrop, folks: that's the real sky.

From there the Knights led us in solemn procession over to the gym, where the reception was to be held.

We greeted people as they came through the doors, a sort of impromptu receiving line—it wasn't planned that way. It worked well, though. Mary stuck close by me, very sweetly; my new niece! I acquired at least 75 close relatives in joining the St. Hilaire family, I think.

At this point, several months' worth of pre-wedding stress had evaporated into an almost giddy joy.

They say you never stop being your daddy's little girl. This is true.

Lou's dad was our M.C. He was the natural person to take the job, and did it very well.

Fr. Kenny led grace:

... and I think it's hilarious that Lou and I bowed for prayer like this, facing each other. I'm kind of easily amused.

Our wedding supper was made by Chef Alex Chavez of Lotta Fuda, and I recommend him and his company anywhere—he did a fantastic job. Several of the ladies from church, along with the Knights of Columbus, did all the serving and kitchen management and cleanup, and without them—especially Pat, Elizabeth, and Sherrie—I don't know what would have happened. They made it possible for us, and for our parents, to relax and enjoy the day. We had for favors Hershey's kisses in various colors and 'holy cards' with our name, wedding date, the "That they may be one" verse from John 17, and a Raphael picture of the holy family.

Toasts came after dinner, and Andy made us all laugh by reading his off a sheet of toilet paper. He had clearly written at least part of it the night before, since it contained suggestions from his 24 hours of married-life experience.

We thought it was pretty funny.

... although he made me cry, too; it was so sweet. Beth likewise made us laugh and cry. Here she is explaining the way Lou's fedora proves he is the perfect man for me:

Lou and I were the last to give toasts, which were directed to our parents. There just weren't words enough, but we did our best.

We cut the cake Mom lovingly made and decorated—the thing was amazing. I highly recommend chocolate Creole cake at a wedding, and she even got my white lilies on it. No, we did not smear it over each others' faces.

This is the front of the wedding program with my bouquet. I designed and made the program, and had a lot of fun doing so. The graphic at the top is a trio of longtime Christian symbols: griffin, cross, and lily.

Andy, Lindsey, Lindsey's dad, Terry and the boys, and the Herrings got hold of our car. We got honks and thumbs-up till Wednesday of our honeymoon, when we finally went and washed the thing off. They put so many streamers on that we had to pull over about ten blocks from the church and take them off, with much laughter.

We'd brought traveling clothes and changed in separate rooms. The last memory I have before taking Lou's hand and running down the lane of waving, cheering people is of turning to my mom and exchanging one sweet "I love you ..." It still makes me tear up to think about it. Lou's fedora made an appearance for the getaway dash.

... and we drove away.

What a moment that was! to be finally in our car, together, married and off to our honeymoon. I don't think I'll ever forget it.

For all the talk that the bridal business makes about 'your wedding day being the happiest day of your life' and 'perfect in every way', I didn't really expect it. I went into my wedding really just wanting everyone else to be happy and fearing that I would fail to achieve that. The simple fact that I was to receive Lou as my husband would have been enough to get me through the day.
As it turned out, my wedding day was the happiest day I had ever known, and so uniquely 'Lou and I', so sweet and holy and elegant and relaxed, that I can hardly imagine it being better. For days after, we commented over and over to each other about what a great wedding we'd had. It's hard to believe that it happened almost three months ago, though the blessed quiet routine of our newly-married life makes those short weeks feel timeless.

The liturgy of our wedding opened and closed with the words "Thanks be to God"—in Latin, Deo gratias. There are no better words to describe it.

If You're Happy and You Know It

Yes, I'll post the other half of the wedding report. Soon. I promise! It just takes an absurdly large amount of time to put together.

I woke up this morning with a deep sense of frustration due to having heard another cannon-blast in the war of hatred currently being waged against Sarah Palin, whom I very much respect. It was some nonsensical article (click here for a biased report from the UK) about how she allegedly tried to get her ex-brother-in-law the state trooper fired, calling it an abuse of power, but reading the facts on that state trooper according to one who appears to have done his research, the guy needed action taken against him whether or not she had anything to do with it. (See #32.)

It's hard to remember, sometimes, that Jesus said his followers would be hated. (Not that the Left restricts their hatred to followers of Jesus.) I'd somehow never fully connected that with willful misunderstanding, malicious distortion, and criminally unjust accusation.

Anyway, I happened to be at Christ the King church this morning for my brother-in-law's baptism, and Pastor Grant Fishbook reminded me in his sermon that optimism is still possible and still important. Being a natural optimist, I liked this very much.

Take the story he told, which might have been true or made up, but was at least wholly believable. He said he went into a coffee shop and offered to buy coffee for the guy behind him in line if he'd answer just one question. The guy agreed, and Pastor Fishbook asked "What's right with the world?" "Not a [blank] thing", the guy responded. So Pastor Fishbook handed the guy his coffee and said "How's that?" "It's good," said the stranger. "That's one point for me," said Pastor Fishbook gleefully.

He used the same principle to point out that the guy had a little money and a job—two more things that were 'right with the world.' Then he read the passage from Philippians 4 that says "… whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things."

There, I thought, is a timely reminder.

I've been giving thanks in threes lately—yes, it's gimmicky, but as a sort of trinitarian way of reminding myself to give thanks it comes in useful. For a good husband, a loving family, a warm home. For books and houseplants and lamps. For an enjoyable job and respectable bosses and good team members. I'm finding thankfulness a helpful part of maintaining optimism.

And I think Trucker Tom had the right idea when he called into Father Roderick's podcast a few episodes back and suggested that people turn off the media for two weeks and see what it does to their attitude. If you listen to the news all the time, he said, you're going to think that we're all going to hell in a handbasket and everything's completely out of control. Sure, a lot of things are out of control, especially right now—but most of that is getting exacerbated by hysteria, which is amped up by doomsday reports from the news. Day-to-day life is still pretty good for most of us and we still live like kings compared to most of the world throughout most of history.

I like being cheerful. I'm not giving it up for politics—forget it. As for Sarah Palin, I'll be praying for her encouragement these next few weeks, whatever happens with the election.

Here's a link to my brother-in-law's blog (not the brother-in-law that got baptized today) for an excellent comment on the importance of certain issues and a short comment by Mrs. Palin on the topic.

Deo Gratias

August 10, 2008

With many thanks to Casey Karbowski, our hard-working and quite gifted photographer, I've at last got pictures from the wedding. A full description of this event is likely to take me at least two or three posts, so here's the start.

Had I been the sort of girl to have my wedding all dreamed out before it happened, the actual event would still have surpassed it; as it was, it felt like all my wedding-day-dreams came to pass. The simple and the glorious came together for one sweet sacred beautiful thing, and in that context of absolute love, a better man than I ever imagined for myself took me for his own.

The single best piece of wedding advice I got came from Auntie-C, who told me to leave myself as little as possible to do on the wedding day and the few days prior. Thanks to both sets of parents (especially my mom, who insisted on my following that advice and on taking up the slack!), and to Beth, and Briana, I succeeded. Lou and I attended Andy and Lindsey's wedding the day before ours without much of a to-do list to worry over, which was good as both of us felt the strangling pressure of emotion ready to explode out of us at any moment. We got separated at their reception for twenty minutes or so, and the subsequent panic and almost tearful reunion in the parking lot might have done for a much bigger ordeal.

We toasted Andy and Lindsey with glad hearts, however, and church afterward calmed us somewhat. We were named in the prayers. After church and a stop in the gym to add our favors to the reception tables, Lou went to spend the evening with three of his college friends from out of town, and I went home to my parents', where I burst into tears upon walking through the door for no other reason than being overwhelmed with joy and excitement and exhaustion. It felt great to cry off the emotional buildup, and I felt much better afterwards.

I faced breakfast on my wedding morning with my first real nervous flutters, but those were gone before preparations really got started. The preparations were simple, for me at least: not wishing to have to deal with stylist appointments, I hadn't planned on any, and Beth did my hair and makeup.

At about 12 noon, Mom, Beth, and Briana got me into the dress my mom had lovingly handmade for me. Mom never got clear instructions on what I wanted; she merely took thirty years' knowledge of her daughter, a little silk and alençon lace, and made me feel like a princess:

She had to trim, piece, and appliqué the lace across the silk by hand, all from a single sheet of lace just large enough to give her one real chance to get it right.





Mom has more pictures of the detailing on her site.

I made the veil, with direction and some help from Mom. It took an excessively large amount of time, but the result was worth it.

Beth did all the flowers for the bridal party, with some assistance from Mom and Briana. She, like Mom with the dress, had only vague instructions as to what I wanted and the raw materials, but her final product was flawless—everything I could have dreamed of.

There were a very few small, special details in the wedding that I'd planned simply because I really wanted them; the white lilies were one. Few flowers hold claim to so much sheer beauty, but their symbolic connections meant even more—the sight of one is, for me, an exhortation to bravery, purity, joy, and self-sacrificial love through Christ. I cried when Beth first showed me the bouquet she had made.

Briana, having made the trip from Montana, helped out with anything and everything and very patiently dealt with the fact that her best friend was mostly distracted during her entire visit. Here she is, looking quite glamorous:

Lou and I had decided we didn't want to keep our guests waiting during an hour's formal photo shoot between wedding and reception, so we planned our 'first look' for my parents' living room a couple of hours before the ceremony. He paced up and down the front walk until everybody was ready; parents and siblings and friends stood off to the side while I waited a few steps back from the door.


I tried to say 'hi' when he came in, but couldn't quite get the word out.



He still surprises me with his good looks sometimes ...

After a few family photos, we drove to the church. Getting into the car took some effort; I found the wearing of a massive tulle slip under my dress to be quite an experience.

We married in our beautiful parish church. It's hard to look at Gothic architecture and not think of God. The spire pointing steeply upwards into the sky, and the high ceilings indoors, leave me feeling very small and very full of a child's awe.


Our friend John Marvin was cantor for the occasion, and the master pianist and organist of the church, Matthew Ma, played the organ. The wedding coordinator hid me in the confessional for the prelude, where I could hear John sing Schubert's Ave Maria (which my parents had had at their wedding) and Lou sing a wedding gradual (a psalm in Gregorian chant). Matthew played the old pipe organ, at our request.

Mary and my parents stayed in the confessional with me, and Mom stood at the door and told me who was coming in—"Scott and Megan are here! And Bill and his family, and Brad Bauer! And there's Donna ..." I loved hearing every name she mentioned; it meant so much to me to have so many friends there. The crowd wound up being about 350 strong.

The ceremony began at three o'clock. Long before I met Lou, I'd made up my mind that I wasn't doing the "Here comes the bride" thing, so we made our processional more like a mix of Sunday morning church and family. John asked everyone to stand and take out their hymnals, and to the deep tones of the old organ, everyone began to sing St. Francis's "All Creatures of Our God and King". As they sang, Lou's nephews, David, John Paul, and Daniel, led the way down the aisle with cross and candles.



They were followed by Fr. Qui-Thac with the Book of the Gospels, then Lou's cousin Fr. Kenny and a longtime friend of Lou's from his monastery days, Fr. Paul.

Next came Fr. Scott, the officiant for the wedding.

Then came the wedding party, starting with my junior bridesmaid: Lou's niece, Mary. Mary did an excellent job in her role, making sure my skirt was straight, holding bouquets when needed, and looking very much like a princess herself. She wore her dress from her first Communion and we tied her hair back with a little piece of ribbon from my bouquet.

Two truly 'good sports' walked the aisle after Mary: Lou's brother Andy, married the day before, and my sister Beth, looking forward to her wedding four weeks later. Lindsey and Todd awaited them in the front pews. Andy and Lou had agreed to be each others' best man when they planned their respective proposals to Lindsey and I. Beth accepted her well-deserved role of maid of honor when I asked her just after my engagement. Her likewise well-deserved engagement came just three months later.

The finale of our procession was something very meaningful to us, something I'd planned since before Lou and I even met: Lou's parents walked him down the aisle, and my parents walked me. No one else on earth holds the roles our parents do in our hearts; we respect no one more than those four people, and we felt they deserved the places of greatest honor and the opportunity to symbolically, as well as actually, give us to each other.




I'll end this post here because it's getting a bit bulky for good old Blogger, but look for more wedding pictures in the days to come.

Notes

No wedding pictures yet, so no long wedding-post either. They'll be worth the wait when they arrive. I promise.

* * *

I'd like to go on record as saying this has been the most absurd excuse for a summer I've ever seen, as far as weather goes. While Georgia has been hit with wave after wave of ninety-degree-plus heat, Washington has had the 50s and rain. Seriously, things could even out a bit. The sun bothered to push the clouds aside just long enough for July to pass, peeking out a time or two before and after. Last summer was chilly and messy enough, but this was worse.

On the other hand, fall weather looks promising. Rain and fifty-degree weather is just about normal. It makes me want to plan for holidays and make cookies and try out another butterbeer recipe. And the turning of the trees is perhaps the height of Bellingham's beauty.

* * *

Lou and I and Beth and Todd met in Seattle the other night for a performance of The Phantom of the Opera, on account of which the songs have run through my head for a steady week. But it was thoroughly worth it. Having seen the movie but not the play, and considering the movie a favorite—Schumacher's cinematography and Emmy Rossum's voice being both outstandingly beautiful—I wasn't sure how high to set my expectations.

As it turned out, the effects were pretty astonishing, the lead vocals all quite good, and I have to give mention to André and Firmin, whom I found hilarious. Besides, it's such a splendidly poignant story that I could hardly help being moved. I'm not much of a cryer, but the end gets me just about every time.

After the movie came out, plenty of women and girls were heard to say that if they'd have been Christine, they'd have gone with the Phantom. But I always liked Raoul. I've never really been into the bad boys, I suppose—after all, I married a man who nearly became a monk.

* * *

Being married surpasses even my expectations. People always told me, all those years I waited, that my singleness was a gift and I needed to view it as such. Nonsense, I say. Except for those who "have it of God", e.g., monks, and some foreign missionaries, singleness is a way of suffering, a long, slow via dolorosa. Especially for women, most of whom still think that having a family is an important part of life that they don't want to miss.

I love living in the same house, waking up to a kiss instead of just an alarm clock, making meals and watching him enjoy them, and making cookies to surprise him when he comes home from a meeting. I love a lot of things, especially him. He's so good I sometimes feel guilty for my humanness.

* * *

Yesterday I read a bumper sticker that said "Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities." How true, I thought. Abortion is an excellent example of that. I liked it so much I read it aloud to Lou. "That person is talking about Christians," he told me, taking note of their other bumper stickers.

"Now that's an absurdity." I've never quite gotten the whole "Christians are like Nazis" thing. That's quite possibly the most unfounded proposition on the planet.

* * *

Politics are interesting, but awful.

Mostly I just want the yelling to stop. It makes me wonder if Bellingham would riot if the election went for McCain.

In case any of them are reading this blog, allow me to express the opinion I now have of Obama supporters: The loudest of them, at least, appear to be some of the most arrogant, self-righteous people on the planet. They are worse about apparently willful misunderstanding and having to "be right about everything" than the 'fundamentalists' they hate so much (yes, I said hate, and I meant it.) And I have direct experience with the ire of fundamentalism—I've even seen my family suffer at its hands.

Maybe you people don't value my vote, but take care. Your attitude is intolerable, and sane people will not always put up with it.

* * *

Here, on the other hand, is excellent opinion journaling on the election.

Notes

Seven Years

How well I remember trembling in front of the television, seven years ago, watching a live broadcast as the North Tower fell. And I was one of the lucky ones. I didn't know a single person who could have been lost in the planes, the towers or the Pentagon. Today I can only offer up a prayer for the souls of those who died and the hearts of those who remain.

* * *
Excuses

I have a good excuse for not blogging for two months—three good excuses. I've celebrated three weddings in thirty days: mine, on the tenth of August; my husband's brother's on the day before ours, and my sister's four weeks to the hour after mine. Yes, I plan to post a good long account of my wedding, at least. It will not happen, however, until our photographer gives us the pictures, which got delayed when his computer died rather inconveniently about a week after our wedding.

The short version, though, is that all three weddings were incredibly beautiful and very happy and very different. Andy and Lindsey put everything that can be put into a giant Catholic wedding; it was splendid and sacred. Beth and Todd were married in my parents' living room, with only family and their closest friends around them; it was sweet, intimate, and worshipful. Lou and I fell somewhere in between; we had a simple service, held in our church with pipe organ and 350 people. It felt holy and pure and elegant and wonderful to me, and I remember it well, which I consider a gift. So many brides have told me they don't remember theirs.

Sharing the wedding season with my sister and Lou's brother and their new spouses was also a great gift. Andy stood up as best man to Lou and Lou as best man to Andy. Beth was my maid of honor and I was hers. I cried at all the toasts, including the ones I gave. Thank God, I did not cry while playing and singing Paul Stookey's "Wedding Song" as Beth walked down the stairs on Dad's arm. I did accidentally leave Todd's ring on the piano and had to walk across the room to get it in the middle of the ceremony.

Now, please God, we get to grow together as couples and friends for many years to come; hopefully have children about the same age (kids should have lots of cousins—I only have one), and celebrate the joy of extended family that so few in our culture know or cherish.

* * *
Si Dios Quiere

I don't remember which Bible readings our pastor drew his sermon from that week—James 4:14–17 must have been one—but his use of the concept of remembering God's will stuck with me. "Instead, you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and also do this or that." The Spanish, he said, intersperse their speech with "si Dios quiere", and the Irish with "please God" (as in "if it please God"). We less-ethnic Americans don't typically do this anymore, but I like it; it gives me a way of reminding myself, in speech or at least in thought, who I am and who God is. And which of us is the boss.

* * *
Many Blood-Sucking Creatures

Years ago, I learned to watch football, thinking that most guys probably want their wives to be able to sit through a football game without getting bored to death. But my husband doesn't care for football. Or baseball. Or basketball. He watches politics like a game.

I swore off politics, or rather the news media's version thereof, back in the Clinton presidency, because it made me feel sick to think about it. I'll even confess to procrastinating a bit when it comes to educating myself on the subject nowadays so my eyes don't go all glassy when Lou's been reading NRO and wants to talk about it. But I will also say that the nomination of Sarah Palin as vice president was the most interesting thing I've seen happen in government in years upon years.

Not that I think she's the designated savior of the American world. I do think, however, that she's different from the vast majority of what's running for office right now, and I like some of those ways in which she's different.

Of course, every Rita Skeeter—or worse—in the country had to get hold of her right away. I walked into the checkout line at the grocery and had to laugh, because most of the tabloids there had taken a break from Angelina Jolie to headline "Sarah Palin's Dark Secret!" They all seemed to say it; all but one, which highlighted a family shot for Barack Obama: "His Children—His Inspiration" or something like that.

Of course, nobody who hasn't wasted their brain on drugs expects fair reporting from the tabloids, but even the quasi-respectable media … well, all I know about the mainstream is that whenever I really know anything about a subject that comes up on the press, they've lied about it or twisted it. Whether it's intentional or not, I don't know, but it happens and I'm completely out of patience with it.

Want Palin information from someone who appears to have done their research? Try here.

Want to see just how much Sarah Palin has in common with Chuck Norris? Try here.

Thanks to John Granger for the links.

* * *
They Really Shouldn't Have …

So I hear (thanks, Chris) that in the sixth Harry Potter film there is no funeral for Dumbledore (maybe Gambon didn't make him lovable enough?), there IS an attack on the Burrow over Christmas (because fans demand regular action sequences?), and the Half-Blood Prince plotline trades levels of importance with Ron snogging Lavender Brown and the other teen-romance threads (to excite the fangirl demographic, naturally).

I wondered today if the Harry Potter movies have been done as absurdly as they have to make them feel less real to children. Certainly, some of the scenes in the books could make for a much more frightening set of movies; even a realistic Uncle Vernon swinging his fist and yelling would be more disturbing than the overacted, amusing bit we get from Richard Griffiths.

That would excuse the overacting to me, but not the skewing of characterization and plot. Of course, I'll most likely see HBP when it comes out, just to have the fun of getting fussed with everyone else about how dreadful it was.

But what I'd really like—and it seems like someone else has at least suggested something like this, though I don't remember who—is to see a skilled director who loves the books make a miniseries out of the story. Instead of cheapening the quality of the acting and filming, just be cautious about what gets shown. Leave some of the "scary" action to the imagination. Make it as long as it needs to be—A&E could do this without flinching. Be true to the themes, the lines (especially the important ones), the plot and characters. Utilize the colors, numbers and other symbols that support the surface of the text.

It wouldn't have to follow the books word-for-word, or beat Peter Jackson's LOTR cinematography. The six-hour A&E version of Pride and Prejudice, for instance, captured the spirit of the book far better than either the more text-accurate BBC version or the much-changed but better-filmed one starring Keira Knightley. Just keeping to the characters and stories we know, not changing the lines or symbols because they might seem either too Christian or not thrilling enough, would make a huge difference.

Not that the WB will release its monopoly on such a lucrative copyright anytime soon. But I can see it clearly in my mind's eye, and it's a beautiful thing.

June

... went something like this:

* Make and send wedding invitations. Lou and I spent all of our spare time for a week doing this.
* Move my parents.
* Find a place for Lou and I to live after our wedding.
* Move Lou into that place.
* Move all my stuff into that place.
* Move me and my clothes into my parents' new place.
* Fly to St. Louis for the baptism of our beautiful little goddaughter.
* Spend a weekend in Canada at a group premarital counseling event.
* Attempt to act sane and tolerably focused at full-time job.

It doesn't seem like a long list, somehow, looking at it. And a lot of it I simply wouldn't have missed. It's just that, mathematically speaking, all of that adds up to more days than short little June possesses.

Halfway through July, I finally have time to sit quietly for more than half an hour at a time. It feels strange and wonderful.

Notes

At about a minute per, making wedding invitations takes what might be casually called "a flipping eternity." I now know from experience.

* * *

J.K. Rowling gave an excellent talk at Harvard today. Both of her main points--the benefits of failure and the powerful importance of wise (and moral) use of imagination--were well expressed and applicable.

My favorite line, perhaps because I know this truth somewhat from experience: "I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters."

* * *

I'd like to write more, but it is 11:16 and sleep calls.

A Friend Goes on CNN ...

One of my dear friends, Bob Bavis, recently got to share some comments on CNN's website about his "dance" with brain cancer. It's worth a listen! Catch that here.

Also feel free to check out Bob's new blog here :-)

Don't

... update your blog template at 10:30 PM. Trust me on this one.

Things I Have Done

Everybody makes a list of things they want to do, or need to do. But this savvy commenter over at Shannon Hale's excellent blog suggested making a list of things one has already done. It's good for the whole sense-of-accomplishment thing.

Here's my list of Things I Have Done. This is not exhaustive--in fact, I may have to add to it in the future, as I'm too sleepy to be confident in my memory tonight.

I have:

• Been to Canada.
• Flown in an airplane.
• Ridden a horse (and taught it a thing or two.)
• Completed the first draft of a juvenile novel.
• Recorded, at last count, about 13 of my own songs—and written over 100. Most of which the world will never hear, thank God.
• Journaled thousands of pages, also not for public distribution.
• Been asked "Will you marry me?"
• Said "Yes".
• Worked potato harvest. (Loudest job I've ever had.)
• Guided a raft through a class IV rapid—and for the rest of a six-day trip down the Salmon River.
• Swum a class III rapid. In April. It most resembles being knocked off one's feet and hit in the face multiple times with five-gallon bucketfuls of ice water.
• Climbed rock walls and rappelled off the top of them.
• Taught a high-school girl to rappel, and watched her conquer her fears in the process.
• Been the teacher's partner during a swing-dancing class at a wedding.
• Read most of my favorite novels at least five times apiece.
• Maintained two blogs (one for over two years).
• Been kissed in the rain by a handsome man wearing a fedora. (How much more romantic can you get?)
• Been homeschooled on a farm in Montana (seriously, how many people do you know that can say that?)
• Graduated high school with "very high marks in English" (watch me make a typographical error in this post!)
• Stayed up all night to read a book (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows; 1 AM start, 7:30 AM finish.)
• Carried the gifts forward at the cathedral in Seattle. On my first visit.
• Gone to Regionals in the spelling bee in fifth grade.
• Accidentally spelled "mirror" with a "w" in the spelling bee in sixth grade.
• Sheared a sheep.
• Milked a goat.
• Assisted at the birth of lambs and goat kids.
• Read the Bible through in a year and 18 days. Didn't quite make the one-year goal, but shot close.
• Gone deer-hunting.
• Attempted to learn four languages at once. I still remember the two words of Arabic I learned (it was the fourth.)
• Flipped a canoe in the Puget Sound, along with three other girls. We had to get rescued by a fishing boat.
• Played guitar, piano, and sung in front of hundreds of people. Nobody threw tomatoes.
• Took on the adventurous job of worship leading at about age 19.
• Sung lead and baritone parts in a barbershop choir. (Also did "Singing Valentines" ... interesting work.)
• Been chased by a headless snapping turtle. (I believe I've mentioned that before on this blog.)
• Participated in practical-joking the youth pastor's house.
• Grown my hair out to past my waist.

I'm not sure this list qualifies me as an interesting person, but I just might be okay with that.

Curtains, Greeting Cards, and Other Notes

This past Sunday was Pentecost. I love Pentecost, which commemorates the gift of the Holy Spirit to the Church (for anyone who didn't actually know that); it's the grand finale of the Easter season, it's exuberant and happy and full of life, and it happens in the spring so I feel great anyway. The whole church gets decked out in red and I joined in, wearing a bright red skirt and top.

Funny Pentecost memory: Last year Lou and I were at friends' for a baptismal celebration. It being a beautiful sunny day, we all sat around outside, still dressed in Sunday best. Most of the men wore white shirts and red ties, and they all looked quite sharp. I remember thinking of how I used to favor the grunge look in guys and how much I really admire--and prefer--my handsome, neatly-dressed man. Part way through the afternoon, some young hoodlum in a T-shirt and backwards baseball cap drove by, hung out of the car window and yelled "Nice shirts! You all look like curtains!" We laughed shamelessly as he drove out of sight.

* * *

Sunday also being Mother's Day, I had a good time celebrating with the many mothers in my life. Unfortunately, I could not avoid the word "special" on all of the greeting cards. That word needs outlawing in the greeting card industry--that and "wonderful". Greeting cards seem to be growing steadily cheesier over the past few years; usually I won't buy anything with either the word "special" or rhyming poetry, but for Mother's Day I had to compromise my principles.

* * *

The return of greenery and bloom--especially the leaves on the trees--makes me so happy that the other day I mentioned it twice on one short walk. That made Lou laugh. But I miss green leaves every day in the winter, and spend all of March through May taking delight in every sprig of new growth.

* * *

I recently assigned myself one task which I keep forgetting: write a little something every day. The "something" can be a blog-post, a comment on someone else's blog or forum, at least one stanza of a song, or a journal entry. Despite my non-dependable short-term memory, which is presently overloaded with wedding and work projects and other things, something seems to come about at least most days, of its own volition.

* * *

Having this much going on makes my brain feel like exploding with unprocessed writeables. Some of my wedding-related thoughts, however, managed to make their way into my very-late Silhouette article for this season. I had told Justin I could only do a guest post for this four-month session of the blogazine; as it turns out, even that took unusual effort. It did happen, however, and has been posted here. Feel free to check it out :-)

Nonsense

The usual shame belongs to me for having not checked my email in a week. What's a girl with five email addresses, two blogspots, a Facebook, a Xanga, and a Myspace to do? Stop signing up for so many accounts, I guess :-)

Anyway, Chris sent me this link a week ago, because I happen to be very fond of both of these authors. And frankly, I thought what Orson Scott Card had to say about J.K. Rowling was both presumptuous and nasty. Presumably he's being facetious about the comparisons between Ender's Game and Harry Potter; both derive from the same standard, widely used situational plot formula based on archetypes, etc. That formula is no more original to Card than it is to Rowling, but her interpretation of it is every bit as original as his.

As to the suit by Stouffer, it's utterly ridiculous to think that the woman capable of structuring an incredibly thick, layered story based on literary alchemy (like that used by C.S. Lewis in the Space Trilogy), with character names more carefully and creatively linked to the story than any I've ever seen in fiction, ripped off a word and part of a name. It didn't happen. If nothing else, I know enough about the writer's consciousness to understand that sometimes there is no knowing whether or not the names and concepts being used are drawn from things heard of in the past or from thin air--although to be totally fair, accidental plagiarism is just as punishable by law as the intentional sort.

I don't know enough about copyright law to know how much of The Harry Potter Lexicon actually breaks the fair use laws, nor whether it actually does. But I wonder to whom Card has been listening. Melissa Anelli from The Leaky Cauldron said the other day that as a journalist, she is completely frustrated by media coverage of the Rowling/Warner Bros. suit against RDR Books. She says that every time she sees the headline "J.K. Rowling Sues Fan", she knows that person has never read a court document from the case, because they wouldn't find Steve Vander Ark's name there.

People listen to the news because they have to, I guess. I, however, have decided that the most generally accurate part of the daily news reports is the weather forecast. But that's a rant for another night.

Pizza for Dinner

... because Lou's pot cooked little pieces of itself into our pasta tonight.

I tried to wash off all the black bits, but it was penne pasta, and the pot-shards just wouldn't come out of all those little tubes.

On the bright side, we threw the pot away:

... along with the pasta, as you see.

Lou also has a woodpecker that has drilled its way into the siding of the house, a skunk in the neighborhood, and a beginning drummer downstairs. I am marrying a very patient man. We won't be living here.

Double Check

I just edited my last post ... shouldn't have attempted blogging at 11:30 PM the other night, while feeling way overtired and frustrated.

In bringing up my "conversion", for lack of a better word (I don't like that one because it implies a change of religion, which is false), my whole desire is to share the overflowing joy I feel in Christ and His church. Instead, I came across as defensive, which is the last thing I wanted to do, and I apologize.

Time to start working now ... I'll be back soon. No more six-week blogless stretches for Jennifer!

Sunday, March 23, 2008

During the deeply symbolic service that is an Easter Vigil mass, the Catholic church this year received me as one of her own.

Albeit difficult to describe my array of new joys to a mostly Protestant readership ... if I still have a readership after six weeks of silence ... I couldn't go on with this blog without admitting openly that I am, now, Catholic. I would like to write out the whole story sometime, but the mental image of reader after reader staring horrified at their computer screens reminds me that Rome isn't generally forgiven in a day, however long it took to build her.

But the deluge of ideas, the thoughts and influences, hopes and fears of the months it took me to reconcile myself to the ancient Church beg me constantly for expression. This little blog of mine isn't going to turn into an extensive list of arguments for Catholicism, but parts of my thought and experience will work their way into these pages now and again.

This may naturally be hard for Protestants to take. But my hope is still "built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness." Don't give up on me, folks.

I'd like to ask one tremendous favor of all of you: Don't take everything you read/hear about the Catholic church at face value, especially if it comes from either the news media, evangelical books/commentaries, or ex-Catholics. The media has told three major, outright lies about the Vatican in the past ten months. Commentaries and other non-Catholic books have been responsible for some hilarious mistaken notions of what we believe (did any Catholic anywhere ever believe that papal decree could make fish 'not meat'?) And the sad, simple truth nowadays is that most ex-Catholics are ex-Catholics because they had no idea what they believed.

"There are not a hundred people in the world who hate the Catholic church, but there are thousands who hate what they mistakenly believe the Catholic church to be."--Archbishop Fulton Sheen

Catholic or Protestant, you all are my friends and I love you.

The Best

"Harry looked around; there was Ginny running toward him; she had a hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her."

"You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did in your last.... I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh."

"The mass had barely begun when Peregrino saw the Speaker enter at the back of the Cathedral. [The Speaker] paused a moment, then found Novinha and her family with his eyes. In only a few steps he had taken a place beside her."

" 'I have a dream,' [Gilbert] said slowly. 'I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends--and you!' Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her.... But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer."

"Pa laid down his fiddle when Laura came in. He looked at her hand where the ring sparkled in the lamplight. 'I see it is settled', he said. 'Almanzo was talking to me yesterday and I guess it's all right.'

'If only you are sure, Laura,' Ma said gently. 'Sometimes I think it is the horses you care for, more than their master.'

'I couldn't have one without the other,' Laura answered shakily.

Then Ma smiled at her, Pa cleared his throat gruffly, and Laura knew they understood what she was too shy to say."

" 'Ah, Jane! But I want a wife.'

'Do you, sir?'

'Yes; is it news to you?'

'Of course; you said nothing about it before.'

'Is it unwelcome news?'

'That depends on circumstances, sir—on your choice.'

'Which you shall make for me, Jane. I will abide by your decision.'

'Choose then, sir—her who loves you best.'

'I will at least choose—her I love best. Jane, will you marry me?'

'Yes, sir.'

...'Truly, Jane?'

'Most truly, sir.'

'Oh my darling! God bless you and reward you!'

'Mr. Rochester, if ever I did a good deed in my life—if ever I thought a good thought—if ever I prayed a sincere and blameless prayer—if ever I wished a righteous wish, I am rewarded now. To be your wife is, for me, to be as happy as I can be on earth.' "

* * *

Being an insatiable reader and something of a daydreamer as well, I've thought surprisingly little about what it would be like to get asked the Question. I suppose that depends entirely on who does the asking.

Lou asked me to marry him down at Boulevard Park last Saturday, looking out over the steel-colored bay with a little stretch of the boardwalk all to ourselves.

I said yes as quickly as I could, though unfortunately not before managing to use the word "booger" in a sentence. That little faux pas did not change his mind, however, and as we put his great-grandmother's ring on my left hand, I felt myself very much the happiest creature in the world.

After waiting thirty years--not always patiently--for 'the right one', I have to say that what God had in mind went well beyond everything I ever dreamed of for myself. Of all the "godly young men" I've ever known—and I've known some—he's the best, the kindest, the most truly Christian. Forgive me for rhapsodizing, but to me he rolls Harry's pure heart, Mr. Darcy's sound judgment, Gilbert's intelligence, Ender's sharp, solid grace, and Almanzo's hardworking nature all into one.

He will probably laugh loudly and turn eight shades of red when he reads that, but this is my blog and I'm allowed to brag on him :-)

"An excellent wife, who can find?" says Solomon. "For her price is far above rubies." True as that must be, coming from the Bible, I think an excellent husband is worth just as much—and is at least as rare. I can only thank God, in His wisdom, for Lou. The gift of this love, from this man, could have come from no one less.