Friday, February 28, 2014

Poetry Friday: Anne Porter


Too perfect and beautiful not to share, even though I've run it before.

A Short Testament
by Anne Porter

Whatever harm I may have done
In all my life in all your wide creation
If I cannot repair it
I beg you to repair it,

And then there are all the wounded
The poor the deaf the lonely and the old
Whom I have roughly dismissed
As if I were not one of them.

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac. You really have to experience the final lines of the poem.)

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The Poetry Friday round up is at Anastasia Suen's blog, Poet! Poet!

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Dear Lent,


Hey, old friend! It's been awhile. Almost a year. How are you? I'm looking forward to seeing you next week when you arrive. I always love a good trek in the desert.

Funny thing about you, though -- you always kind of sneak up on me. Well, not exactly ... I always feel as if you sneak up on me, but the truth is, you are stirring in little corners of my mind for days and weeks before you arrive. I may tell everyone, "I have no idea what I'm doing for Lent this year - I haven't thought about it," but in truth, the thoughts are there, somewhere. A bit buried, a bit hidden, even from myself. They are mostly prayers -- sometimes spoken, sometimes silent -- for guidance about what I need to do. (What to give up? What new habit to establish? How to deepen my prayer life? Time to examine the maxim I say I want to live by, but so often fail at: "Lord, let me serve without counting the cost.")

So, I've got five days before you show up on my doorstep, Lent. Are you going to come bearing gifts? Surprises? You're good that way. I never know what to expect from you. Sometimes, I must admit, you exasperate me, especially when I've planned for us to have a particular kind of get-together, and then you turn the tables on me and bring up all sorts of stuff I hadn't planned to deal with during your visit. You know how to push my buttons. But that's okay. We're good enough friends that we can weather those storms. And, come to think of it, I always come away from your button-pushing feeling stronger. And better. Recharged. Huh. It's almost as if you knew it would happen that way. Maybe you aren't trying to be annoying.

Oh, Lent. You always give me something to think about. Can't wait to see you.

Love,
Karen

~~~~~~~~~~

If you've been writing letters to Lent lately, too, or if you're just looking for ideas about the season, you can find lots of them in this series of posts: A Meaningful Lent: The Monstrously Long Post.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Ramona and I Can't Get Enough of Julia Child Picture Books


First it was Bon Appetit! The Delicious Life of Julia Childby Jessie Hartland. 

And here's the latest one we enjoyed together:



Minette's Feast: The Delicious Story of Julia Child and Her Cat was an absolute delight. For lovers of Julia Child, cooking, cats, and Julia Trivia. Recommended.

I have often said that no one is ever too old for picture books, and I am willing to bet a lifetime supply of coffee on the fact that I will be reading them (i.e., reveling in the art that is the excellent picture book) until I die.

Happy reading!

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Happy Catholic Reviews Deathbed Conversions

Julie Davis, aka Happy Catholic, recently reviewed Deathbed Conversions.

I was particularly moved by the fact that Julie's own father experienced a deathbed conversion. (If you scroll down to the comments, you can read a bit more about that there.)

Thank you, Julie!

(On an unrelated but necessarily-referred-to-as-awesome note, if you're a Loki fan, and a Middlemarch fan, you must click through to the photo Julie posted here. You're welcome.)

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Poetry Friday: I'm Hosting! And ... Richard Wilbur! It's a Grand Day In Every Way!




Richard Wilbur's poetry leaves me breathless, always, in one way or another, leaves me flying. And so how appropriate this poem is for today, and for always, and for every moment when I feel that I know how to do something I never knew how to do.

Flying
by Richard Wilbur

Treetops are not so high
Nor I so low
That I don't instinctively know
How it would be to fly

(Read the whole thing here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

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I'll be in and out quite a bit on Friday, so I'm posting this today. Please leave your links with my ever-reliable administrative assistant, Mr. Linky. For an unpaid intern, I find his work to be stellar, if occasionally cheeky. Just click on through and he'll handle the details. Feel free, too, to leave a comment, say hello, stop over for coffee (do you take cream?) or to drop off some chocolate. Or, if it's more your style, you can link-and-run. I'm okay with that, too.

I've already added an early bird, and I look forward to hearing from the rest of you!

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Because We Are Grammar Nerds


We were all watching a Food Network show the other night and a commercial informed us that some plucky young men had "learned the art of making sausages from their fathers." Anne-with-an-e burst out laughing.

"That is not sausage I would want to eat," she said.

Monday, February 17, 2014

On the Radio


I'll be talking with Sean Herriott on Relevant Radio's "Morning Air" this morning at 7:30 (central time.) We'll be talking about ways to keep Sunday holy.

If you're a new reader, and are looking for my recent post on the topic, welcome, and jump to here.

Friday, February 14, 2014

Poetry Friday: Happy Valentine's Day with Ray Bradbury


For some reason, I just felt like a Ray Bradbury quote for Valentine's Day.

This isn't really a poem, just a quote. But it's true, and it's right, and that's poetry.

Ray Bradbury:

In that film Love Story, there’s a line,
“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.
Love means saying you’re sorry every day
for some little thing or other.

Happy Valentine's Day!

The Poetry Friday round up is at Teacher Dance.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Keeping Sundays Sabbathy

I don't think that's really a theological term -- "Sabbathy" -- but I'm going to use it anyway.*

I was recently reading an article in a secular family magazine and the writer talked about transforming Sunday evening from a time of dread into something her family could look forward to. She described the busy-ness of their usual Sundays (errands, homework, chores, etc.) and her longing for their routine to change so that they would all be less crabby. She and her kids recruited neighbors for their project and the goal was to make Sunday night fun and relaxing for everyone on the block who was up for it. Neighborhood game night (or family game night, if no one else could make it) became the norm, and she rejoiced in the discovery of a Sunday they could all look forward to.

This mom stumbled onto some ancient wisdom, and now her family and friends are reaping the benefits. Her family's overwhelming busy-ness forced her to take a step back and think about what she could do differently to help her family rest and recharge.

I remember very well what my weekends looked like before I learned that Sunday could be different, could be a day set aside.

When I first became a Catholic, I went to Mass alone. Atticus didn't want to join me, so I took off for Mass every Sunday and enjoyed some quiet time. We were living in a small town that was about a 25-minute drive to the church in which I'd been received and most Sundays I reveled in the time alone. Of course I wanted my husband to convert, too, but if he wasn't going to do that, I decided to take advantage of the situation.

After Mass, I went shopping and used the day for my big grocery run. I didn't have a toddler with me! I could skip down the aisles and not tell anyone, "No! Don't put that in the cart!" I didn't have to stop to change a diaper! I could get so much done!

I headed home, unloaded groceries, and started laundry, usually at least two big loads. Then I'd tidy up the house, and generally get ready for Monday.

Then one night, at a Bible study, someone mentioned refraining from work on Sundays. I said, "What? Whaddaya mean?" My friend replied, "You know -- like not doing unnecessary shopping or doing laundry, or housework or any of that stuff."

I pictured myself in the grocery store on Sunday, my cart loaded to the gills. I called to mind the image of Sunday's laundry piles, and the way I did a bunch of Sunday cleaning so as to start Monday fresh and ready for the week. I thought about how I'd never thought of Sunday as "different" -- other than the fact that I now went to Mass that day.

"Huh," I said. "That's...interesting." I decided to try it.

But changing Sundays was a process, not an overnight thing. Atticus and I had never really treated Sunday as different from any other day of the week, unless you counted sleeping in and lingering over coffee and the newspaper. With Mass now a part of my life, our Sundays were already looking different ... I decided that maybe I could change just one thing at a time to shoot for this Catholic approach.

First, I started grocery shopping on a different day. Sometimes I took my two little girls with me during the week (Betsy had arrived about a year after I came into the Church), and sometimes I ran out to shop in the evening, alone. (Ah, blessed grocery shopping alone! I was a mom with a low thrill threshold.)

Once I had that change in place, I rescheduled laundry. I got as caught up on it as I could by Saturday. When the girls were little, of course there were times that some nastiness had to be washed on a Sunday, but doing a small, necessary load was much easier and less time-consuming than doing a week's worth of laundry.

With just these two changes, Sunday was feeling incredibly free and light. Mindfully resting, deliberately recharging? Huh. This was interesting. And did I really have to do any housecleaning on Sunday? Nah...

Over the years, and especially after Atticus came into the Church, we put more and more effort into creating an atmosphere for Sundays that made it feel different from the rest of the week. Although we still stopped (and still do) at the grocery store for donuts after Mass, we quit doing any other kind of shopping. We didn't schedule activities, chores, or work around the house for Sundays -- we went to Mass, then we headed home to rest, read, relax, hang out with our kids, take walks, have a family movie time, cook dinner together. We found ourselves saying things like, "I'll do that chore tomorrow. It's Sunday!"

Our Sunday approach seems to have rubbed off on our kids (see Ramona examples here and here). I see Anne-with-an-e putting it into practice with her college course work, scheduling homework to be done by Saturday, so that she can really rest on Sunday. We all cherish the respite that Sunday is, the oasis in the desert of the workweek.

Keeping Sunday holy doesn't feel like an obligation, or a rule we have to stick to, or a silly regulation. It feels like a gift. It makes us so happy, really.

I love ancient wisdom.

~~~~~~~~~~

* The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains:
Para 2175: Sunday is expressly distinguished from the sabbath which it follows chronologically every week; for Christians its ceremonial observance replaces that of the sabbath. In Christ's Passover, Sunday fulfills the spiritual truth of the Jewish sabbath and announces man's eternal rest in God. For worship under the Law prepared for the mystery of Christ, and what was done there prefigured some aspects of Christ:

"Those who lived according to the old order of things have come to a new hope, no longer keeping the sabbath, but the Lord's Day, in which our life is blessed by him and by his death."

Para 2176: The celebration of Sunday observes the moral commandment inscribed by nature in the human heart to render to God an outward, visible, public, and regular worship "as a sign of his universal beneficence to all." Sunday worship fulfills the moral command of the Old Covenant, taking up its rhythm and spirit in the weekly celebration of the Creator and Redeemer of his people.

and:

Para 2184: Just as God "rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had done," human life has a rhythm of work and rest. The institution of the Lord's Day helps everyone enjoy adequate rest and leisure to cultivate their familial, cultural, social, and religious lives.

Para 2185: On Sundays and other holy days of obligation, the faithful are to refrain from engaging in work or activities that hinder the worship owed to God, the joy proper to the Lord's Day, the performance of the works of mercy, and the appropriate relaxation of mind and body. Family needs or important social service can legitimately excuse from the obligation of Sunday rest. The faithful should see to it that legitimate excuses do not lead to habits prejudicial to religion, family life, and health.

Para 2186: Those Christians who have leisure should be mindful of their brethren who have the same needs and the same rights, yet cannot rest from work because of poverty and misery. Sunday is traditionally consecrated by Christian piety to good works and humble service of the sick, the infirm, and the elderly. Christians will also sanctify Sunday by devoting time and care to their families and relatives, often difficult to do on other days of the week. Sunday is a time for reflection, silence, cultivation of the mind, and meditation which furthers the growth of the Christian interior life.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Ramona Does Some Rearranging

"Are the bananas all gone?" asked Atticus.

It was a natural assumption, given the empty basket:


"No," I replied. "They're in that bowl. Ramona gave them to the Queen of Fruit for her throne." 


Monday, February 10, 2014

Some recent reviews of Deathbed Conversions

Fr. Dwight Longenecker reviewed it here.

Melanie Bettinelli's post has the added bonus of a cute baby holding my book. See Melanie's review here.

Alicia Van Hecke's Love2Learn review is here.

Haley mentioned it here, and liked the opening chapter about conversion (my own and conversion in general) even better than the stories.

Thanks to all!


Sunday, February 09, 2014

Poetry ... Sunday

I missed Poetry Friday -- it was hosted by Renee LaTulippe at No Water RiverRenee is hosting a giveaway, too, so run over and check it out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Some poetry for a Sunday -- a beautiful one, especially the last stanza: And when two people have loved each other/see how it is like a/scar between their bodies,/stronger, darker, and proud; 

For What Binds Us
by Jane Hirshfield

There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.
Look around, you can see them:
the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,
nails rusting into the places they join,
joints dovetailed on their own weight.
The way things stay so solidly
wherever they've been set down—
and gravity, scientists say, is weak.

And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,

(Read the whole lovely thing here, at The Writer's Almanac.)