excitement galore

I’m gazing at the first gardenia blossom unfurling a petal at a time!  It’s been five years since the giant bush has produced buds, and this year it has over twenty large ones.  The bud is opening from the outside in– there’s an unexpected grace to it. 

Saturday, a friend shared an existential she’d had with a magnolia tree.  While she reveled in the glorious tree and it’s blossom, she felt the beauty of the Lord upon her (to borrow from the celtic book of daily prayer).  She stood there in awe of the perfect blossom, the fragrance, the magnitude of the tree, and she thought that humans with all our ingenuity could not design this. 

More than once I stopped to soak in the mountains, English Bay and the general beauty that’s Vancouver.  Worship effervesced in my soul during sunsets and early mornings.  The beauty and grandeur overwhelmed and humbled me in a satisfactory manner.  I was content in beholding the beauty; my petty annoyances took perspective.  It’s the same with beaches and deserts; the vastness wakes awe in me.

But, the gardenia blossom awakes a different type of awe, wonder and worship.  Noted theologian Oscar Wilde wrote, “God is in the details.” This blossom smells so sweet and clean.  It’s beauty will last a week or two, then it will shrivel up, fall, decompose and feed the soil.  There’s a decadence to this almost disposable beauty.  But, it will come next year.  This delicate, tiny and impermenant beauty declares aspects of the character and name of God that are equal to the statement declared by mountain chains.

I’d about given up on the bush as budless, but the chief stated she wanted to keep it regardless of rather or not it produced buds: it has lovely foliage and had been a Mother’s Day present.  The chief modeled good theology in her patience and appreciation. The five-year dormancy has come to an end!

frame work

To question perspective is postmodern and relevant. A prof described history as an act of interpretation; he often repeated, “History is deciding the center from the margins.” Reading history, it would be easy to believe that there were centuries that women were fewer than five percent of the population. Now historians shift focus to what has been (considered) periphery for millennia– women and other races. The shift is somewhat difficult because the bias is two fold. Historians (mostly white males) have been more interested in white males; there is more evidence and material available about white men to research. I’m a fan of this shift because it provides a more accurate understanding and vivid picture of how things were in the past. This shift in focus does revise history somewhat, but doesn’t rewrite it. It provides additional information and broadens the picture, providing a panoramic view.

The act of interpretation happens in the macrocosm of history and the microcosm of my life. I constantly frame my life when people ask me questions. Two people brought this to my attention: As I chatted with M, he asked me, “What did you do fun this week?” I paused because I was prepared to answer about dreary job interviews and such, but not the parts of my week that filled me with delight. And, then we chatted about a movie and event I went to. He’d seen the movie. M’s question helped me assess how I think about my days and what I ask other people about. I find it’s easy to dwell in the miry pit of despair, but refreshing and rewarding to climb out of it.

Now, it is easy to frame my life in a list of failures and inadequacies. When people ask me what I do, I rarely say: read, write, run, laugh, sew, cook, encourage, play scrabulous. Instead I say I tutor and am looking for full-time employment. When asked about my relationship status, I say single instead of chatting chirpily about all my fabulous friends. However, I have one friend who looks at this segment of my life as if it were a field rife with possibility and space and time to dream and redirect. My natural response to all the rejection is despair, but she prods me to reframe the situation. The economy and government of God is grace and bounty not scarcity. Hope seems to be a flagrant denial of the visible evidence, but it is the framework of faith. I grip an identity so tightly my knuckles are white. I don’t know how to pray or plan in this phase of my life. Dr. Laura says the antidote to despair is purpose; so, I need purpose. Today, there’s a large part of me that thinks my problems would be solved if I were to land a job that I loved and would meet my financial responsibilities. The sane part of me acknowledges this crazy rationale and realizes it is unrealistic and simplistic. God must know that I need a job, money and dignity. I need to learn how to frame my life like the psalmists do. They acknowledge the rawness, brokeness and incompleteness of their life, but always end (sans 88 ) in the ultimate reality of God and his character.

Framing is a life-long process that I’m becoming aware of.

may is for weddings

Ah, I go to a wedding this Saturday and the next. Woohoo. I’ve escaped most of my friends’ weddings by being on the wrong coast or continent. Alas, I’ve no excuse for these. There’s no exorbidant plane ticket to hide behind.

This weekend is with Regent friends; my friend is officiating one of his best friend’s weddings in NC. I’m his “and guest”. It should be interesting: I’m the pastor’s “date”. It should be fun: the reception is at a Vineyard.

The second wedding is my cousin’s. Yay, large family gatherings. There are no “and guests” at this shindig. But, there is an open bar. And, my cousin said it was fine to wear a t-shirt and jeans to his 5:30 wedding. He implied that we were simply getting dressed up because we like to so much. So, I’ll take him up on the jeans.

I’m not excited; they just feel like expensive hassles. That said, I’m sure I’ll have fun.

Emphasis should be placed on anniversary parties over weddings– anybody can fall in love. Staying in love is the trick.

“the paper”

Thanks to my mom, I’m reading the comics again. She gets a free Gaston Gazette at work; she considers the letters to the editor and the comics worthwhile reading. She collects cut-out cartoons in a manilla folder. I’m not sure what she’s planning to use the treasure trove of humor for, but you never know with Mom.

I found Dilbert hysterical yesterday: the link. It’s about imaginary numbers; it’s awesome. It expresses my feelings on statistics and such.

I turned down an interim teaching position today. It was the right decision, but I still feel queesy about it. Also, I’m miffed at all the work and time I put into the aborted mission. C’est la vie. I’m off to do some “real writing”.

Is anybody involved in Pangea Day tomorrow?

oblivious

My mom has a new favorite cartoon; a king is out on the balcony chatting with his advisors:

Advisor: “Your subjects complain that you’re oblivious to their plight.”

King: “I hadn’t noticed.”

This droll humor describes my life. I chatted on the phone with the principal about compensation; I was too blunt (hard to imagine) but not whiney. He said he’d check with HR and call me back. I didn’t know if he were “checking with HR” or really checking with HR. Whichever the case, I didn’t hear back from him. Of all the emails and calls I sent, two people responded.

oblivious to grammar:
My use of quotation marks reminds me of lunch on Saturday. My sister took me out to RO’s and then Tony’s Ice Cream. RO’s has phenomenal barbeque sandwiches; their slaw is to die for. And, so are their menus: entertaining and creative use of quotation marks abounded. One of my favorites was “new”. What does this mean? Sister and I tried to detect a pattern with the use, but the best we could come up with is that they were used for emphasis much like “the Establishment” uses italics.

just plain oblivious:
The lunch proved quite the adventure, esp. since I found out that my dress was see-through. Sister tells me, “Just pretend like it’s a bathing suit cover.” Older women gave me nasty looks, but what could I do but to stand up straight, suck in my tummy and act “nonchalant”. I was tempted to explain my gaff to the unapproving strangers, but I figured it was easier just to let them think I’m a floozy. So, my wardrobe malfunction will make the redneck lunch one for the annals.

FYI: why I’m oblivious:
Scrabulous IS addictive, and it is a good thing that it doesn’t show up on drug tests.

I’m serious

I declare May 1st a day of writing. (It’s openings like this that make my blog so popular and reader friendly.) Get this– I’m working on pieces about my family, sewing, home and laughter. There’s one word for this blog and my writing in general: sexy. Good luck containing the excitement! I’m gearing for 10 pages of material for my writer’s group I’ve already got six written.

Here’s a finished piece I’ve submitted (it’s a rewrite after talking to the head hauncho). I removed it.

our democratic republic

It’s not enough to vote. A voter needs to educate herself. Checking out the candidate’s websites does not suffice, she needs to find out the candidate’s biography, Voting Record, Issue Positions, Interest Group Ratings, Speeches and Public Statements, Endorsements, Additional Biographical Information and Campaign Finances. This sounds a bit overwhelming.

Voila.

A nonpartisan website has compiled all this information. It’s called Vote Smart.

Are there other websites like this or that complement it well?

life compared to a sonnet

While I read aloud the last chapter in A Wrinkle in Time, tears welled in my eyes. The words and ideas were so gentle, poetic and cathartic. Ah, I’m fond of kid lit. The scene where Mrs. Whatsit waxes poetic is compelling.

A critic called this section “one of the most beautiful descriptions of human life that I’ve ever heard.”

Mrs. Whatsit compares life to a sonnet:

It is a very strict form of poetry is it not?

There are fourteen lines, I believe, all in iambic pentameter. That’s a very strict rhythm or meter, yes?

And each line has to end with a rigid rhyme pattern. And if the poet does not do it exactly this way, it is not a sonnet, is it?

Calvin: You mean you’re comparing our lives to a sonnet? A strict form, but freedom within it?

Yes. You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you.

The Pope’s Earth Day

In lieu of planting pines on Earth Day I went to a discussion about international I don’t know what. The conversation made me realize how much I miss the world-wide communion of the Anglican church. I was in awe of the people sitting around me but not connected. (I need a church that I belong to… maybe that would help.) My church home in Vancouver just voted to go under the African diocese– that’s international with profound implication. And, the Pope’s presence in the US makes me think that my view of church, faith and God is too puny and apolitical. The Pope demonstrated concern for the immigrants in the US– that didn’t get mentioned once at our lil tete-a-tete. In praying this prayer, I’m connecting with the communion of saints. Here’s a link to Pope Benedict XVI’s homily at Yankee’s Stadium; it’s moving and worth a read. Here’s an excerpt of him discussing the “Lord’s Prayer”:

“Each day, throughout this land, you and so many of your neighbors pray to the Father in the Lord’s own words: “Thy Kingdom come”. This prayer needs to shape the mind and heart of every Christian in this nation. It needs to bear fruit in the way you lead your lives and in the way you build up your families and your communities. It needs to create new “settings of hope” (cf. Spe Salvi, 32ff.) where God’s Kingdom becomes present in all its saving power.

“Praying fervently for the coming of the Kingdom also means being constantly alert for the signs of its presence, and working for its growth in every sector of society. It means facing the challenges of present and future with confidence in Christ’s victory and a commitment to extending his reign. It means not losing heart in the face of resistance, adversity and scandal. It means overcoming every separation between faith and life, and countering false gospels of freedom and happiness. It also means rejecting a false dichotomy between faith and political life, since, as the Second Vatican Council put it, “there is no human activity – even in secular affairs – which can be withdrawn from God’s dominion” (Lumen Gentium, 36). It means working to enrich American society and culture with the beauty and truth of the Gospel, and never losing sight of that great hope which gives meaning and value to all the other hopes which inspire our lives.”

Benedict’s homily in St. Patrick’s Cathedral on the 19th was inspiring as well. This section is what moved me the most, self-centeredness chokes out grace:

“In this morning’s second reading, Saint Paul reminds us that spiritual unity – the unity which reconciles and enriches diversity – has its origin and supreme model in the life of the triune God. As a communion of pure love and infinite freedom, the Blessed Trinity constantly brings forth new life in the work of creation and redemption. The Church, as “a people made one by the unity of the Father, the Son and the Spirit” (cf. Lumen Gentium, 4), is called to proclaim the gift of life, to serve life, and to promote a culture of life. Here in this cathedral, our thoughts turn naturally to the heroic witness to the Gospel of life borne by the late Cardinals Cooke and O’Connor. The proclamation of life, life in abundance, must be the heart of the new evangelization. For true life – our salvation – can only be found in the reconciliation, freedom and love which are God’s gracious gift.

“This is the message of hope we are called to proclaim and embody in a world where self-centeredness, greed, violence, and cynicism so often seem to choke the fragile growth of grace in people’s hearts. Saint Irenaeus, with great insight, understood that the command which Moses enjoined upon the people of Israel: “Choose life!” (Dt 30:19) was the ultimate reason for our obedience to all God’s commandments (cf. Adv. Haer. IV, 16, 2-5). Perhaps we have lost sight of this: in a society where the Church seems legalistic and “institutional” to many people, our most urgent challenge is to communicate the joy born of faith and the experience of God’s love.”

All this makes me feel so small: I rarely choose obedience and life. The only true response is “Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.”

[Lord, King and Father unbegotten, True Essence of the Godhead, have mercy on us.
Lord, Fount of light and Creator of all things, have mercy on us.
Lord, Thou who hast signed us with the seal of Thine image, have mercy on us.
Christ, True God and True Man, have mercy on us.
Christ, Rising Sun, through whom are all things, have mercy on us.
Christ, Perfection of Wisdom, have mercy on us.
Lord, vivifying Spirit and power of life, have mercy on us.
Lord, Breath of the Father and the Son, in Whom are all things, have mercy on us.
Lord, Purger of sin and Almoner of grace, we beseech Thee abandon us not because of our Sins, O Consoler of the sorrowing soul, have mercy on us.]

smart people

I saw Smart People after reading all the reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. It isn’t spectacular or reality-altering. But, it is thought provoking and well written. Its soundtrack is excellent.

Critics panned the script for being too ambitious. I prefer big to safe so I was fine with all the ideas bouncing around on the screen. The movie is like brown bread with high fiber content, it’ll stay with me longer. The film’s beauty is the protagonist’s transformation from bitter to alive. There’s mystery to the tipping points that lead to growth.

The writing is taut. The dialogue was witty and believable, which is a tough feat. My favorite phrase was “you, litigious little shit”: it’s believable and alliterative. However, the critics’ discussion of the elevated vocabulary left me a little disappointed; they didn’t use a single word I didn’t know. (Silly critics, that ain’t no esoteric diction.) And, the actors manage profound moments sans sentimentality. The scene where Chuck and Ellen Page’s character resolve their conflict is deep and comical. Ellen Page’s character functions much like Jacques in Twelfth Night. The characters hide from their humanity; they use their intellects to buffer and justify their shortcomings.

You heart develops an ache for the characters and their prisons built of their own device. The controlling idea is that after a certain point, pain is a choice. A person develops the habit of pain and alienation. There is a rawness inherent to relationship, and a person can choose to avoid it. It reminded me of the CSL quotation: “Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

It is a good matinee.