Garden Day, April 13 2018

This was a rare day. It was finally, really warm. And I decided it was time to shave. It had been 4 1/2 months. I wish body hair was as optional for women as facial hair is for men. It would make a lot more sense.

I just broke off a piece of aloe from the plant beside my bed and applied the gel to my neck and cheeks, where the sun got a little too friendly today. I was GARDENING. Finally! But in the morning I visited S&R, and read lots of board books and watched a film. I had lunch here alone, ate up leftovers, savoring the last salty bits of tortilla chips on the back deck, in the sun.

I washed my sheets, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom, gardened. Gardened! Glory. Planted my little spinach babies, and seeded some flowers. I showered, made cornbread, went to the forum downtown. It was good, especially because I talked with C afterward, and K came, and I drove her back with me.
Thanks for being so good and so patient with me.

The Greenest Grass, April 4, 2018

The bitter voice inside me wants me to list all my grievances and limitations, and stew on them. Or let them fuel me, like anger is fuel. But anger is not the best fuel. Nor is ambition, covetousness. "If you run away, you can eat potato chips and have Barbie dolls..."
It's the same old story of the greenest grass.

The place to work things out is here, now. With grace and gratitude. But that is impossible without You. Jesus Christ, Lord, save me. Save me from my sin and my stupidity. Deliver me from evil. I choose to obey You. 

God Who Got Your Hands Dirty, March 24 2018

I'm at the Cove - the COVE! And relishing it.
I would be relishing it more, but have just thrown up my supper in the toilet, and am still feeling nauseous. I'm afraid even fresh haddock isn't going to work for me. I look rather peeled. Scraped. Shucked. Anyway.
What a beautiful thing proper digestion is. Chesterton was right.

Man, there is so much going on in our world and country right now. The March for Our Lives campaign, for instance. And I feel stuck there. Because I truly think we need to reform our gun laws, but I know it's a complex issue. And I have friends on both sides. What is really going to prevent those intent on evil from procuring means to their ends? Not much. Thankfully, these things go both ways. What can stop the person who is doing your will? If God is for us, who can be against us?

Father, please calm me tonight. Please fill this house with Your peace. Please show me Your love even in my blood and vomit. You are the God Who Got Your Hands Dirty.

From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

- Amy Carmichael 

About Wonder, March 21 2018

I'm thankful for these Artist Date days, but I struggle with them, too. For various reasons. For one thing, I can start to think that it's all about self-love, which drifts into selfishness and navel-gazing and feeling dead-ended and rotten.

It's supposed to be about wonder. About looking outside myself, to my creative Creator. To my Lover. Yes, to enjoy, and to delight the senses. But not to wrap myself up in myself. Some self-examination is good, but let it be straightforward, and move on.

I'm having a hard time seeing either tree or forest. I don't think I've done even many small things with great love. Weak lust, perhaps. Or duty. Or moderate inclination. I need Your help.

"Mine, O thou Lord of life, send my roots rain."



Quote: Gerard Manley Hopkins

Selfish Shelter, March 14 2018

I've been angry - ever since I was a kid - at women who selfishly ask to be sheltered, rather than believing in something better than safety: honor and courage and the right.

Women who stand back trembling while their men do the work.

Yes, I want to be spared, but no, I don't want to be spared. And I'd like to avoid making enemies, but I don't know how that's possible.

How can I be teachable? Humble, but bold in conviction? I'm coming to You because I still believe You care, You are listening, You love me and will answer. I still trust You. And I think that refusing to make peace with sin and injustice and depravity is a way of honoring You, even if seeing these things makes me want to blame You. Don't let me be deceived. Open my eyes. Set me before the essentials. Help me to love, and to keep myself open to love, and to be patient. And fight. Please keep fighting for me. Strip me of everything if You need to, because I'm foremost Yours. "This is one battle I can fight naked."
Clothed by You.



Quote: Dorothy Sayers, "Busman's Honeymoon"

The Procession of Fantastic Wealth, March 14 2018

But it's not a reason to brag. It's all grace. I have received so much in my life that I didn't deserve, by a long shot. I'm remembering the generosity of A's Indiana cousins. How they gave us a bag of road snacks so varied and excellent as to reach almost Biblical proportions. Dates, raisins, new wine, 500 goats, 200 sheep, 50 cows, 10 bulls, fine spices, and gold of Ophir... you get the idea. Where eventually it ceases to feel real, and you're watching the procession of fantastic wealth enter your ranks as if in a dream.
God, please fill my open mouth.

Gaudy Night, March 1 2018

It's raining again. A good, comforting rain. I hula-hooped today, but wasn't outside much. It was a studio day. I also finished Gaudy Night, my favorite Sayers yet. It stirred me, made me think and feel necessary things, made me laugh repeatedly. And when I finished, I wept. Quiet, violent crying that left a deep-blue stain on a medium-blue patch of my quilt.

I don't know if I've ever really cried as an adult, because I usually think about how I look, or how to describe it. If I were really to cry, would I care? The emotion can't be too severe if you're thinking about how picturesque (or otherwise) it is.

At any rate, I was crying because Peter and Harriet were together. And because of how it happened. And because they struggled through so much, necessarily, and chose the hard way. Because that book speaks so much about passion and integrity and devotion to one's work, of loyalty to vocations, principles, and yet the messiness of emotion and human responsibility. There are so many sharp and poignant (and witty) lines. And it has so much to say about the sexes, and intellectualism, and courtesy. It is a gem.
That was partly why I was crying. I was crying because I got to read it, because I've had the privilege of so much, and am still selfish and feel stuck. Others are living and dying around me, and our souls are lonely, and GOD how do we reconcile that? And hell? Miserable lives or insulated easy beautiful lives, and then what?

I had to start thinking about the cross, because I was starting to view You as a cruel judge. And I thought of the flight to Egypt. You are not cold toward us.
I have to believe 1) that all these supernumerary ways You speak to me and make love to me are REAL and 2) that I can trust You to do the same for others. It is not my job to save, or to know everything. Or to make other people's decisions for them. It's certain that 3) I will move people toward You if I'm delighting in You myself. So that is a first necessity. Passion and joy. Don't let me commit the sin of indigence. Boredom. Duty and bitterness. 

Marching Orders, Feb 28 2018

I've been feeling strange, because I've been in my room so much of the day, and because I'm jolly over "Gaudy Night" and the progress with the album, and because February is ending and March beginning, and I feel sad.

I think maybe I could have used another two weeks of barren winter in which to hermit, safely. March feels like orders. Like a push off the dock.
I'll be all the better for it.

I haven't caught my breath, but I'll keep breathing, and try to steady the rate.
Help.
It is a powerful word.

Every Single Day II, Feb 26 2018

Talking with B was good and challenging. How do we pray for big things, believing? If God doesn't actually say yes? How do we know His will?
Prayer can change things, but it also changes us, and it honors God.

But what if we're "single" "forever"? Will we be able to be truly content? Not pretending, deluding ourselves? Yes. It's possible. I believe it. But, as I told B tonight, I deeply don't believe I'll be single forever. I think I go in a few layers: the outer layer is single and lives that way. One layer below believes I'll be married. Beneath that, I have this terrible, "WILL I THOUGH?", and deeper still, "Yes."
If I forget the yes at the core, I'll begin to think that the "no" is the deepest and truest, the reality I just haven't accepted yet. But I don't believe it is.

I want to believe that I'll be a good wife. That I'll fight well, cleanly and fairly. That I'll be a good listener and snuggler. That I'll make him laugh, and calm him down, and excite him. That I'll keep his trust, and that I'll amaze him. That he'll feel safe with me, and be able to let me go. That he'll both share suffering with me, and allow me to have my own. That I'll feed him well, and that we'll match each other well in wits & sports & lovemaking. I want to believe that that I'll be a good Mom. That I'll attend well to my kids, sacrifice gladly, yet hold boundaries, discipline consistently, show grace. That I'll have a touch that is natural, safe, and comforting. That I'll be an enthralling storyteller. That I'll be shrewd & sensitive & funny, that I'll give wise counsel, that I'll be courageous and instill confidence and compassion in them. That I'll make them feel safe, and that through me they'll know the love of God. That I'll show them how to love life, love learning, love those different from themselves, stand up for truth and justice. That I'll be an example to them of hard work done with joy, and play that is generative and full of wonder. That I'll teach them to be nurturers, to rest, to listen. 

Conflict Resolution, Feb 25 2018

We took a baby step in a good direction tonight.
God, help me not check out. Help me instead to pray, listen, engage, LIVE now. Because this is my life. It's all I've got. And these things now are preparing me for the future.

Help me to see it all that way. And not for the earthly wedding; for my union with You. I want completion. Or, at least, to see things fitting into place, connecting, leading toward something. I've seen it before so many times. But I need to keep seeing it, or I may desecrate the past and curse the future because of my own blindness. Keep my heart's affections where they belong. Keep me loving people not so as to control them, but to see them whole.

To see them whole.

I like that, because it means at least two things: to actively seek their welfare, and to behold them truly.