Quotable Quotes

“Life’s short and we never have enough time for gladdening the hearts of those who travel the way with us. O, be swift to love! Make haste to be kind.”

Henri-Frederic

Thoughts on the Poor and Needy

my dining room table, a completely unstyled photo, after a day of school today.  this picture represents fabulous wealth...the well fed puppy on the chair, the laptop, the school books, the knitting that sits, casually waiting for the fact that I am so rich I have spare moments to do something creative...

I'm haunted by Ann Voskamp's observations, from her brief trip to Guatemala with Compassion International.  She visited families in the ghettos and slums of that country, a country still reeling from its recent mudslides.

Every day I sweep and cook and straighten with my steam mop and my all natural cleaners and my clean rags that match my kitchen, I'm thinking of a mother in Guatemala I have never met.  Vicariously I visited this mother, through Ann's blog, and the visit changed me.

Utterly impoverished mothers want clean homes, too.  They want all the same things I want, and they work harder than I do, with fewer tools, to accomplish far less.

And some can chalk it all up to an absence of capitalism, and still sleep at night, without doing one thing about the poverty they have seen on their big flat screen TV.

After her visit with this particular family, Ann felt compelled to tell the Guatemalan mother, "You are a good housekeeper", and upon translation, the mother began to weep.

And I've never gotten over it.

and these came in the mail this morning...God has a sense of irony, too.

How do you fight a mudslide?  How do you cherish all the home keeping hopes and dreams that all mothers have in a place that menaces your soul, day in and day out, with its filth and stench and poverty?  Somehow, this mother kept her shack as clean as she could keep it...noticeably different than the shacks that surrounded hers.

And she needed the same affirmation that I need...she needed to be told that her ordinary work did not go unnoticed.

So here I am, in my climate controlled home, blogging to the scent of spiced pumpkin and the music of Acker Bilk.  Feeling absolutely tiny.  My spirituality pales to that of a simple woman, fending off the mud, daily wiping the grime of the ghetto off of her home and her family.

I'm thankful for every blessing I've been given.

I spent some time early this morning getting to know this particular Tuesday, and it is an Acker Bilk sort of Tuesday.  Really.  It is.  See for yourself.

Given.  Given, given, given.  I have not earned a single thing.  This is what irks me about conservative talk radio...as much as I wholeheartedly agree with the conservative philosophy of hard work, and no government entitlement programs.  At one time, I took in a steady, almost daily diet of talk radio, and it made me arrogant and hard inside.  It made me intellectually bright, and proudly skeptical, complete with the strong suspicion that anyone who is poor deserves to be.  It is their own fault.  They haven't worked hard enough to earn the American Dream.

If we take this logic to its inevitable conclusion, then the last and the next heart-wrenching event in your life, Mr. Rush-Fan, is entirely your fault.

Because you deserve hell.  Cut and dried.  There is only One of whom it was declared, "I find no fault in Him" - all your hard work and good intentions mean not one thing....all your righteousness comes from Him, along with every blessing you have under God's sun.

Transitioning the foyer from summer to fall...this means getting the sheaves of Harvest Wheat back out.  I desperately want and need "Harvest" to be more than a time of year to me. 

I'm done with so-called Christianity that is so full of its own self righteousness, that it can't identify itself with the poor and needy.  Yeah, even when they deserve to be poor and needy.  But for the grace of God, there go I.

It is almost time again for cider and fires in the firepit, for S'mores and bonfires in the country with gobs of friends and soup and sweaters.  I am living a dreamy, fabulously wealthy life that I do not deserve.  Do you deserve the lifestyle you have earned for yourself, or do you enjoy the blessings you have been given?   




 

Monday

Good morning, Monday!  You look gorgeous...I am so glad to meet you.  There's never been a day quite like you, and never will be.  You are completely unique, and I think I love you already.  Your sunlight is dreamy.  What other joys do you hold for us today?

I think I am going to light a candle, even in the morning sunshine, to celebrate you, Ms. Monday Morning!  You certainly rate at least a little Pumpkin Spice scented candlelight...you've already been such a blessing, and it isn't even 9 o'clock yet!

How about a little vintage music?  You seem like a Tony Bennett sort of Monday.  Happy.  Classic.  Yes, even though we just met, I can tell exactly what kind of Monday you are!  Tony it is...

I put away my summer blue mugs, and put these out, over the weekend.  It was a few hours of fall nesting.  Perfect for an almost-autumn Monday Morning.  Would you like some coffee in one of these...

...or would you prefer some hot tea in one of these antique peach lustre-ware, depression era glass cups?  (A gift from my Hannah...she found an amazing deal on a whole set of four.  These are typically quite expensive.  But don't let that worry you, Monday.  I trust you.  I'd be happy to pour your coffee or tea in one of these fall-colored beauties!)

The Lord has been good, in allowing me to make friends with such a delightful Monday Morning.  You are something else, and I look forward to getting to know you, finding out all you have in store for me!  What do you say, let's get this party started...

Can It Be?

(including the above pic for no other reason but that I love the outfit...I'm so copying it, this fall) 

Can it be that this weekend is....over?  Already?  Can it be that it is 10:58 on a Sunday night, and tomorrow is Monday morning?

The weekend began Friday afternoon, Hannah, Sarah, and Jonathan in tow, with a short drive to look at a house up for sale, in town.  This house is an adorable bungalow complete with large, open porch and big columns.  Inside are hardwood floors, doors with the original hardware, built in book cases and window seats.  Big rooms, high 10-foot ceilings.  White paint everywhere.  Bright and airy.  

But the exterior of this house is in need of every sort of work.  New roof.  Siding.  Paint.  Windows.  Structural issues.  You name it, this house needs it.  Inside, it needs a whole new kitchen, from the floors up.

A dream to be sure.  My Tim and I could purchase this house and renovate it, true to the style.  If we could sell our current house, this one would be neither out of our price range, nor out of the range of our ability.

But it is out of our range of priority, in this season.  Life is about so much more than finally having that architecturally authentic and interesting home I've always wanted.  Believe me, I have to remind myself.  However, it is always such fun to look.

Then there was our church's ladies' meeting on Saturday.  Oh.  My. 

Law, these women are such fun.  They are twelve ways of sweet and bushels of delight to my soul.  How we laughed, around that lunch table, the tang of basil and tomatoes and olive oil on our tongues.  The glass trifle bowl piled brimful with fresh berries, graciously provided by our hostess (along with lunch!) was pure art - I wish I had brought my camera.

Then there was our college team's football game.  Our team lost, but I still won - any girl who gets to host 13 people for dinner and a game, all hooting and hollering, who gets to sit and listen to daughters and their husbands, sons and their girlfriends, sons and their friends (and those friends' girlfriends) is a blessed and highly favored girl.*

Then there was church...we baptized the sweetest little boy, which was a dream come true for his grandmother, who did the baptizing. 

Pastor Tim, having a very grown up talk with a boy wanting to be baptized...

His young footprints, wet in the carpet, making a path back through the center of the church amongst smiling faces and clapping hands...those soaked barefoot prints were a sight for these eyes.  Oh, the water-logged foot-trails we've made this summer, from the baptismal tank to the back of the church!  It has been The Summer of The Baptism.  May it be so next summer, next week, and forever.

Then, there was time with family - my brother in law's birthday party.  A sweet ending to an equally sweet weekend.  Looking at my sister is like looking in a mirror on a really fantastic hair day.  (She got all the hair genes in the family...not fair.  So not fair.)  She and I both have had people we don't know, but who the other knows, approach us and tell us "...you have to be her sister...you have the same mannerisms, the same laugh, and look so much alike!"

Sometimes I wonder if we are one soul in two bodies.  But then again, we are just enough different, I know it can't be that.  Believe it or not, she's sassier than I.  She don't take no crap, and does not suffer fools or liars or social snobs.  Heaven help the people who have ever done me wrong - if they happen to cross paths with my sister, they'd best turn and look for someplace to hide.  She might tell them where to go and how to get there.

Can't tell you how heartwarming and comforting it is to have a sister like that.  She's every kind of beautiful to me.

The weekend is over, and I have been flawlessly cared for by a mighty God.

Okay.  I think I'm done.  I still don't believe the weekend is over!

~~~~~~~

*that would be me...in case you were wondering who the Blessed Girl might be...

Glass As Art

Here is the picture, as promised...

Didn't she do a great job, for her very first stained glass project, ever??

Oh, and the vintage-style phone is one of my favorite finds of the summer.  I found it at an antique shop in Oak Ridge for thirteen dollars and change.  At the Pottery Barn, right this moment, these phones are sixty or seventy dollars.

Going back to stained glass as art, you too can have a Sarah Howe Original...for a price.  Sarah's dream is to find her own artistic niche - and maybe stained glass is it!

Long Day

For some reason, in my head I'm hearing the song "This Long Day Is Over" sung by Norah Jones.  Maybe because this day has seemed a bit long...I've been feeling a little under the weather.  Nothing to do with yesterday's funnel cake sticks, mind you.  This is all allergy, inner ear, sinus, sleepy, foggy, sore throat gar-bahge.

::she brightens::

But my daughter Sarah made me a beautiful, framed stained-glass piece.  It is her first stained glass project, and it turned out well, and I am the proud owner of the gift!  The colors are all the soft, quiet tones I am so absorbed with in this season of my life...white, tone-on-tone, aqua blue, amber colors...Sarah created a bird on a branch, all in stained glass.  It sits on my kitchen windowsill, and fascinates me, because it looks one way when the sun streams through it, another way when it is dark outside, and still yet another way when it is daylight, but no direct sun.  I was going to take a picture of it for you, but when I went to boot up my camera, it is slap out of juice.

::sigh::

Add that to my list of things to do tomorrow:  bake an apple crumble, do all my regular Thursday chores, lecture on satire for our home school, oversee assignments in said school, knit some more on the scarf I'm working on, go get batteries, take pictures for my blog.

Which reminds me, you'll be excited to know (??!) I'm close to mastering f-stops.

::cheers, confetti::

Which is another reason I need batteries, and add that to my list of things to do tomorrow:  fiddle around with aperture and f-stops some more.  Tomorrow.  For now, this Long Day is Over.


Long Day Is Over
by Nora Jones


Feeling tired
By the fire
The long day is over


The wind is gone
Asleep at dawn
The embers burn on

With no reprise
The sun will rise
The long day is over

Being Bad Never Tasted So Good

If you like funnel cake, run, don't walk, to your local Burger King.  For real. 

So I went out this evening, all by myself.  I ended up being bad.  Very bad.  Not only did I shop (for other people's birthdays, so its okay) I decided to run through the BK drive-thru for a coffee, and spied an advertisement for this:

 Funnel Cake Sticks.  Gentle reader, I did something completely out of character. 

I ordered them.

And ate every.  single.  one.

::hand on heart, eyes rolling in an only slightly exaggerated expression of complete bliss::

Ssssssseriously.  So, so good.  I sat there in my car, and quite nearly hugged myself in gluten-ous, sugar-fied, deep-fried joy.  I was being bad, and I was loving it.  All that gluten and sugar, deep fried, just because I can.  Don't hate on me for it. 

I'll be walking my three miles in the morning.

As I drove home, on a dangerous carb high, I noticed the driver behind me was...shall we say "unhappy" with the speed I was driving.  He was all over my back bumper.  He tail-gated my backside all the way up Schaad road.  Suddenly, I saw the traffic light just ahead, and a (again, completely uncharacteristic) thought hit me.  Maybe...just maybe...this traffic light would change at just the perfect moment.  I slowed down even more.

I saw my chance for vengeance.

The deep fried funnel sticks made me do it, I swear.

I timed it perfectly.  The light did change from green to yellow, and I hit the gas...and the guy behind me could not make it.  This intersection happens to be monitored by Big Brother and his camera, so running a red light is costly and the tail-gating truck knew it.  He had to slam on his brakes.

I threw my head back in glee....and heard an evil laugh come rolling out of me!  It sounded sort of like "muuuaaaahahahaha..."

I have got to get me some more funnel cake sticks.  They make me sassy.

Upon my arrival home, I did my best to put on an innocent face.  Then, I just blurted it out as I came in the door - "I found the most yummy thing in God's earth for only one dollar seventy-nine cents!"

My man took one look at me, surveying me up and down as he is wont to do - we haven't stayed married for twenty-four years for no reason - and said, crisply ~

"I can see.  What's that all over your skirt?"

It was powdered sugar.  Lots of it. 

I was bad.  And I think I will be bad again someday.