It’s the last day of April! Spring has sprung! Buds on the peonies, buds on the iris…
Goodness gracious–weeds proliferating!
Here’s a poem for May by Leigh Hunt:
There is May in books forever; May will part from Spenser never; May’s in Milton, May’s in Prior, May’s in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer; May’s in all the Italian books:— She has old and modern nooks, Where she sleeps with nymphs and elves, In happy places they call shelves, And will rise and dress your rooms With a drapery thick with blooms. Come, ye rains, then if ye will, May’s at home, and with me still; But come rather, thou, good weather, And find us in the fields together.
And here’s a prayer daughter #1 sent me yesterday–it’s a good one:
You know I am a great believer in re-reading books (and re-watching movies) and so is the writer of this article. “Love is the starting place of repeated rereading. And because of that beginning, the gifts of reading are amplified within its practice. Let me make a case to you: rereading is a rich, moral craft that forms us as people.”
And what do you know, science proves it! It says so here.
I definitely think this is true! I have my go-to bonafide stress-reducer movies that I like to watch when I need a lift. Don’t you? It might be time to watch Hatari (1962).
Speaking of John Wayne, this is super cool! “Many Americans of Generation X and older will recall the red, white, and blue American Freedom Train that was a centerpiece of America’s glorious Bicentennial celebration. But few know that the Freedom Train, pulled by a steam locomotive and filled with American historical artifacts, was the brainchild of none other than John Wayne.” Let’s bring back John Wayne’s rolling tribute to America’s finest.
And a bear was spotted playing in a Connecticut back yard…watch the video–priceless!
(That’s eye black under Lottie’s eyes which was hard to scrub off after her lacrosse game. I used makeup remover later which worked and she approved.)
What a weekend–which really started on Thursday for me–a lot of socializing, which, as we know, is exhausting! We had our volunteer reception at Mudd’s Grove on Thursday night and then our Trivia Night for the Kirkwood Historical Society on Friday night. Both were fun, especially the trivia event.
Last year my team came in 2nd, but this year we didn’t do so well–mostly because of me insisting twice that I was definitely right when I was oh so wrong. The OM was home sick so was not available to correct me. No, Katie, it’s not the Stray Cats, it’s the Clash. C’est la vie.
Saturday I went to a funeral at church–this time for a lifelong member of Ladue Chapel whose son goes to our church and is in my community group. The family wanted the grandson-in-law who is a PCA pastor to conduct the service at Ladue Chapel (PCUSA), but the pastor there said no, that might be offensive to some of their members/staff. Seems petty and vindictive to me, but par for the course, I guess. The service was lovely as led by the grandson-in-law.
After that I “babysat” for the twins all Saturday afternoon. Their mother is at a conference in Orlando and their dad was working. It was a lovely day so I did some driveway sitting while they drove the raptor around…
(after we cleaned out the dead spiders inside which Lottie found)…and pretended to sing in the rain…
Who knew playing with umbrellas could be so fun? Then we went inside and watched The Incredible Mr.Limpet (1964)…
…until it was time to clean up and head over to church for the annual pig-pickin’ (pig roast) picnic. The twins were beyond excited to be able to play on the playground, which is usually off-limits on Sundays. They had so much fun running around with their friends and shrieking like maniacs. They didn’t eat a thing except a chip or two. I had fun talking to people and sitting at a table with no one I knew–something I have learned to do over my lifetime. After an hour and a half I drove the kids to their dad’s store and I went home, exhausted again, but feeling happy.
Sunday morning I was back at church and singing with gusto. Nothing makes me happier than watching everyone going up for communion singing Nothing But the Blood of Jesus from memory–even the little kids.
I rounded out my weekend with wine time/Mr. Smith time at daughter #1’s house.
This is the face of a doggo who pulled something out of the trash and is now tasting white cheddar Cheeto dust for the first time. The good news is, they were the organic cheetos, so no red dye #40 or whatever.
We took two walks today because it was so nice out and I was working at home.
I am not exaggerating when I say that Mr. Smith really takes the phrase ‘stop and smell the roses’ to heart. He stops and smells ALL OF THE FLOWERS and weeds and even the blades of grass. I should probably read some Walt Whitman to him. The vibes are not dissimilar.
“I CELEBRATE myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease . . . . observing a spear of summer grass.
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes . . . . the shelves are crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume . . . . it has no taste of the distillation . . . . it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever . . . . I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
The smoke of my own breath,
Echos, ripples, and buzzed whispers . . . . loveroot, silkthread, crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration . . . . the beating of my heart . . . . the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and darkcolored sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belched words of my voice . . . . words loosed to the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses . . . . a few embraces . . . . a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hillsides,
The feeling of health . . . . the full-noon trill . . . . the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.”
Yesterday we were able to do some driveway sittin’ when the boy came over with the bud while Lottie was in dance class. The bud drove the little Raptor around and we had a gay ol’ time gabbing away. Truly there is nothing better on a lovely spring day than to sit and soak up some vitamin D under the blue, blue sky.
Meanwhile I have been crossing items off my to-do list. The Review is at the printer. I have been to the dentist. And so on. I am reading another Agatha Christie–Ordeal by Innocence, published in 1958. Life goes on at a retirement pace–I have no complaints.
In other news, the pope died. I will let Carl Trueman speak for me. “Francis was thus my own worst Protestant nightmare: an authoritarian Roman pope driving a liberal Protestant agenda, a leader who embodied the worst of all possible Christian worlds.”
I talked to my 90-year old Catholic friend yesterday about the pope’s passing. She thought he was great–he really cared about the environment. So go figure.
And news alert: there’s going to be a rare ‘smiley face’ celestial alignment in the morning sky this Friday, April 25, so make a note.
My friend Carla gave me Help Thanks Wow by Anne Lamott for my birthday. I have read it, but I read it again (I do that a lot.)
When all is said and done, spring is the main reason for Wow. Spring is crazy, being all hope and beauty and glory. She is the resurrection. Spring is Gerard Manley Hopkins, “The world is charged with the grandeur of God./ It will flame out, like shining from shook foil.” I read Hopkins for the first time in seventh grade, when I also first read Langston Hughes, and between the two of them, I was never the same.
Poetry is the official palace language of Wow.
Buds opening and releasing, mud and cutting winds, bright green grass and blue skies, nests full of baby birds. All of these are deserving of Wow–even though I have said elsewhere that spring is also about deer ticks–and everywhere you look, couples are falling in love, and the air is saturated with the scent of giddiness and doom. Petals are wafting and falling slowly through the air, and there is something so Ravel, languorous, reminding me to revel in the beauty of the things wafting.
Today we toast the wonderful Shirley Temple (1928-2014) on her birthday. There has never been another child star as beloved as Shirley, who made 29 films by the time she turned 10. She was the top box office draw from 1934-1938. She was a pro and she worked hard in a tough business and survived amazingly unscathed–probably because she retired so early and never looked back.
We should all drink a non-alcoholic mixed drink (a “Shirley Temple” made with lemon-lime soda or ginger ale and a splash of grenadine, and garnished with a maraschino cherry) in her honor and watch one of her films.
Also on this day in 1953, the movie Shane, directed by George Stevens and based on the 1949 novel by Jack Schaefer, starring Alan Ladd and Jean Arthur, premiered.
As you know, it is my favorite of all time. Almost 75 years old!
In other news, on this day in 2005 YouTube’s co-founder Jawed Karim uploaded the first video to YouTube, “Me at the zoo” showing him in front of two elephants at the San Diego Zoo.
Not very exciting in my opinion, especially when compared with Shirley Temple.
Have a great Wednesday!
Count your blessings, name them one by one; Count your blessings, see what God hath done.
The Easter weekend was a blur of activity, but I do remember that something fun happened on Good Friday. I went over to daughter #1’s house for an impromptu lunch after which we hopped over to an estate sale nearby at a Clayton penthouse. Normally condos are not worth going to because the people living in them have already down-sized, but this one was listed by our favorite estate sale company and there were a lot of books.
We did, indeed, find a few books, but I also found an antique loveseat that had been recovered in a fab fabric. (Like the Madcaps, no beige for me!) I started to fill out a bid card, but Lamar called us over and looked at it and gave it to me for my asking price (60%)! Plus he threw in everything else for the Lamar discount of free.
One of their guys delivered it to my house and he and his son got it upstairs and into my office easy peasy. I am thrilled.
And I made it to church by 6 o’clock!
With all the excitement I almost forgot it was my birthday. I received many lovely birthday gifts over the weekend…
My children know me so well.
My daughters also gave me fancy beauty treatments which I very much appreciate, because they are “in the know” and I am not. They know too to put the effort into fancy wrapping and ribbons, which they learned from me and I learned from my mother. They also know to go to the Dollar Tree for fab decorations! This warms my mothers heart.
All the rain, of course, has resulted in lush growth everywhere. Look at Don’s beautiful creek bed–fresh rainwater runoff over bedrock behind his house…
Daughter #2 and famille made it to town in the driving rain on Saturday morning and then it was party central for the rest of the weekend. What fun! We didn’t get to do any driveway sittin’ or drive the miniature raptor, but the good times still rolled. We celebrated our birthdays…
We had lots of primo cousin time…The twins set a good example in church on Sunday and the prairie girls did great.
We went to the boy’s new house after church and had a fabulous time plus a gourmet lunch served up by daughter #3.
Is that a chocolate Westie?!!
An indoor Easter egg hunt was a big hit!
(Katie’s great-grandmother–after whom she is named–made this English smocked dress, which I wore c. 1964.)
It was a super fun weekend and I am super tired! It will take me a few days to recover!
I did watch the second half of Ben Hur on Sunday night–the perfect end to a perfect weekend.
Bonus: The ensemble at church sang this on Good Friday. I cried.
As a child and, if I’m honest, long after, I always wondered why it wasn’t called Bad Friday. Because, as Randy Alcorn explains, “out of the appallingly bad came what was inexpressibly good. And the good trumps the bad, because though the bad was temporary, the good is eternal.”
So let us today contemplate the great love of Christ in facing the wrath of God for us. A good place to start is by reading Jonathan Edward’s sermon on Christ’s Agony. Originally preached sometime in 1739, Edwards’ sermon provides a deep analysis of Luke 22:44 and Christ’s agonizing prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. It is really great, but takes a long time to read, so you better get started.
There are two things that render Christ’s love wonderful: 1. That he should be willing to endure sufferings that were so great; and 2. That he should be willing to endure them to make atonement for wickedness that was so great.
…It was the corruption and wickedness of men that contrived and effected his death; it was the wickedness of men that agreed with Judas, it was the wickedness of men that betrayed him, and that apprehended him, and bound him, and led him away like a malefactor; it was by men’s corruption and wickedness that he was arraigned, and falsely accused, and unjustly judged. It was by men’s wickedness that he was reproached, mocked, buffeted, and spit upon. It was by men’s wickedness that Barabbas was preferred before him. It was men’s wickedness that laid the cross upon him to bear, and that nailed him to it, and put him to so cruel and ignominious a death. This tended to give Christ an extraordinary sense of the greatness and hatefulness of the depravity of mankind.
The picture at the top is “Dogma of the Redemption”; Trinity and Crucifix, Frieze of Angels by John Singer Sargent in the Boston Public Library. At the top of this large half-moon lunette, three crowned figures representing the Holy Trinity share a single red robe, the trim of which bears the Latin word Sanctus, or “Holy,” in repeated gild relief. At center in high plaster relief is the figure of Christ on the cross, flanked by Adam at left and Eve at right. At the base of the cross sits a pelican, considered the sacrificial bird in medieval depictions for its tendency to pluck its own skin in order to provide food for its young when no other nourishment is available. Running along the bottom of the lunette is the Frieze of Angels, figures in primary tones holding symbols of the Passion of Christ, including the spear, pincers, hammer, nails, pillar, scourge, reed, sponge, and crown of thorns.
Side note: the image of a pelican is carved into the front of the pulpit of our church.
Well, we are in for some bad weather again–of course, the Easter weekend will be rainy and stormy. So much for egg hunts etc. C’est la vie.
But our zeal will not be dampened!
Beneath the cross of Jesus I fain would take my stand; The shadow of a mighty rock Within a weary land; A home within the wilderness, A rest upon the way, From burns beneath the noontide heat And burdens of the day.
–Elizabeth Cecilia Douglas Clephane, 1868
We started watching Ben Hur (1959) last weekend and we will finish up this weekend. We are too old and go to bed too early to watch it all at once. But that’s okay. We have seen it so many times, we know it by heart.
“We keep you alive to serve this ship. So row well, and live.”
The familiarity of old films is one of the special pleasures in life. At least for oddballs like me and my family members who enjoy watching and re-watching old movies.
(The twins also got their first look at this classic movie.)
I know we are in a distinct minority here. I know this from the blank looks I receive when I mention an old movie no one else has seen. Sigh.
The other night watching the scene in the galley when Quintus Arrius orders Ben Hur’s shackles to be unlocked before the sea battle and the slave next to him asks him, “Forty-one, why did he do that?” and Judah says, “I don’t know. Once before, a man helped me. I didn’t know why then”…I thought of the times someone has helped me in a somewhat mysterious way. It is, of course, God working “10,000 things in your life every day” and we need to watch for those times. They may not be as obvious as Jesus giving you a drink of water when you are dying of thirst, but maybe they are. Keep watching for them.
In the meantime, watch a (good) old religious movie during Holy Week, check out the budding trees and plants in your yard, look up, pray.
dual personalities 