Daughter #1 and I are heading out today to visit my oldest friend in Virginia. Prayers for safe, smooth travels are appreciated!
O God, our heavenly Father, whose glory fills the whole creation, and whose presence we find wherever we go: Preserve those who travel; surround them with your loving care; protect them from every danger; and bring them in safety to their journey’s end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
What would have been my 45th wedding anniversary is coming up this weekend. Forty-five years is a long time to be married to someone. It is 2/3 of my life!
We were children then who slowly but surely made our way in the world. We did okay for the most part. We had three children who are still on good speaking terms with each other and with me. They are solid, God-fearing citizens.
I am grateful.
Last night Bullitt (1967) was on TCM so I watched it. It wasn’t quite the same without the OM.
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, 7 casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.
I watched the documentary about Canadian actor John Candy, I Like Me, which is available on Prime.
It is directed by Colin Hanks and he certainly got all the cool kids to participate, including his father, Tom Hanks, plus Steve Martin, Bill Murray, Martin Short, Catherine O’Hara and many more. There is lots of archival footage. A lot of good film clips. But no one says anything that is really a surprise, except for maybe Macaulay Culkin, who being a child at the time, had a different point of view. We learn that John’s father died when he was 5, and that it very much impacted his life. He wrestled with his early death for his entire life. But aren’t we all coping with something? Coping never goes well when you self-medicate with alcohol and over-indulgence. And I think everyone already knows that Hollywood is a terrible place and it will chew you up and spit you out. Ultimately, the film just leaves you with a sad feeling.
Thankfully we can cheer ourselves up with a John Candy movie…
It was a beautiful weekend here in flyover country–a little warm for October, but I’m not complaining. It was perfect for sitting outside at the winery, which daughter #1 and I did after our DAR meeting in the morning. The meeting was pleasant also–I do so love talking SEC football with a Crimson Tide fan, which I did while eating breakfast.
Anyway, we enjoyed the musical entertainment at the winery–a guy singing the 1970s playlist, which must be what boomers who go to wineries want to hear. And I’m okay with that.
At church we heard a good sermon on Philippians 2:12-18:
Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.
14 Do all things without grumbling or disputing, 15 that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, 16 holding fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. 17 Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all. 18 Likewise you also should be glad and rejoice with me.
Work it out.
Rein it in.
Offer it up.
The communion hymn was Yet Not I But Through Christ in Me, which gets me every time. Once again I asked myself, why do I wear mascara to church?
We also sang this classic from 1787, but with the traditional American tune, which I really like:
After church, since there was no adult ed, we went to the Sunny Street Cafe for brunch. The twins are very grown up now and well behaved, although once they have scarfed down their pancakes and/or French toast, they are not ones to linger over a second cup of coffee and more conversation. C’est la vie.
I was sad to hear that Diane Keaton has died. She was a favorite of mine. She had some class–a rare thing in Hollywood. She liked turtlenecks, she eschewed plastic surgery, and like Woody Allen said, “She prefer[ed] to look old.” Apparently no one knew she was ailing. She died privately and with no hoopla. Guess it’s time to dig out Annie Hall (1977). La-dee-da, la-dee-da.
My copy of Jan Karon’s 15th Mitford novel arrived on Tuesday and I jumped right in.
Jan Karon is 88 years old and when I heard that a new book was coming out, I was a little surprised. I mean it’s been eight years since To Be Where You Are was published. I thought she was retiring at that point–at 80 years old! But, my goodness, on she goes. Having just finished a vaguely Christian novel with a cutesy title (The Bitter End Birding Society) written in that grating style we see so much in modern fiction–the type seemingly aiming to impress someone’s 8th grade English teacher–I can say Karon’s novel is a welcome relief.
Well, cooler weather has finally arrived! I actually wore a sweater yesterday. For this, I am thankful.
Here’s a poem about that by Robert Herrick (1591—1674):
Lord, Thou hast given me a cell
Wherein to dwell,
A little house, whose humble roof
Is weather-proof:
Under the spars of which I lie
Both soft, and dry;
Where Thou my chamber for to ward
Hast set a guard
Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
Me, while I sleep.
Low is my porch, as is my fate,
Both void of state;
And yet the threshold of my door
Is worn by th’ poor,
Who thither come and freely get
Good words, or meat.
Like as my parlour, so my hall
And kitchen’s small;
A little buttery, and therein
A little bin,
Which keeps my little loaf of bread
Unchipp’d, unflead;
Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar
Make me a fire,
Close by whose living coal I sit,
And glow like it.
Lord, I confess too, when I dine,
The pulse is Thine,
And all those other bits, that be
There plac’d by Thee;
The worts, the purslain, and the mess
Of water-cress,
Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent;
And my content
Makes those, and my beloved beet,
To be more sweet.
‘Tis Thou that crown’st my glittering hearth
With guiltless mirth;
And giv’st me wassail-bowls to drink,
Spic’d to the brink.
Lord, ’tis Thy plenty-dropping hand
That soils my land;
And giv’st me, for my bushel sown,
Twice ten for one;
Thou mak’st my teeming hen to lay
Her egg each day;
Besides my healthful ewes to bear
Me twins each year;
The while the conduits of my kine
Run cream, for wine.
All these, and better, Thou dost send
Me, to this end,
That I should render, for my part,
A thankful heart,
Which, fir’d with incense, I resign,
As wholly Thine;
But the acceptance, that must be,
My Christ, by Thee.
And here’s an important reminder: “Paul teaches us how we can learn to become grateful. We become grateful by practicing it. Gratitude doesn’t start with a feeling. It starts by simply obeying the Bible’s commands to give thanks in everything. And we can start with whatever is going on in our lives right now, with our families, our work, and the people around us.”
These are great hymns to sing at the end of life or anytime. We sing these hymns regularly in my church.
Today marks the 75th anniversary of my parents’ wedding at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Savannah, Georgia in 1950.
Time like an ever-rolling stream and all that.
In other news, The Church of England announced Friday that the Right Reverend and Right Honorable Dame Sarah Mullally has been named the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury–as Albert Mohler says, “A liberal nurse to lead a dying church?” Ugh. As Mohler says, “My own life has been so enriched by the Anglican tradition, and my soul has been fed by towering figures such as John Owen and Bishop Charles Ryle. I hold dear the memory and examples set by towering Reformation martyrs such as Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, Bishop Nicholas Ridley, and Bishop Hugh Latimer. I learned much from J. I. Packer and John Stott and a host of others, living and dead. I am thankful for such good work done by so many for so long. I pray for them. I cherish Anglican music, though I hear it far more commonly in my library than in my church. I grieve for my Anglican friends.”
Well, as Anne says, “Yes, for sure, go to church, but be awfully careful which one. It’s kind of a jungle out there. But for sure, only by being incorporated as a living stone into the same building with the stone that the builders rejected, which is the chief cornerstone, can you be really happy and have the life you really need and desire.”
On a happier note…
And here’s a treat: Bob Dylan sings one of my favorite Cole Porter songs.
Yes, that season is upon us–even the boy has a giant skeleton in his front yard. (He inherited it from his in-laws.) Well, to each his own.
Anyway, I had a nice weekend. Pizza night at the boy’s house. A couple of estate sales. A trip to Hobby Lobby. Mr. Smith and daughter #1 came over Saturday night for Chick-fil-a and a movie.
We watched The Man Who Went Up a Hill and Came Down a Mountain (1995)–a favorite of ours from the good ol’ Harvey Weinstein Miramax days. It is a perfect movie–the kind they don’t know how to make anymore.
Highly recommended!
Sunday I went to church as usual and heard a good sermon on Philippians 2:5-11. We had our final Sunday School class on the Power of Story in the Works of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. I wish it were not over! I brought the twins new notebooks from the dollar store for them to draw/take notes/journal in. They were very pleased. After church we went to the bud’s soccer game which was very pleasant, even if it was a little on the warm side. We will be freezing soon enough.
After the game I went home and took it easy.
My heart is filled with thankfulness To Him who bore my pain; Who plumbed the depths of my disgrace And gave me life again. Who crushed my curse of sinfulness, And clothed me with His light, And wrote His law of righteousness With power upon my heart.
For every day I have on earth Is given by the King. So I will give my life, my all, To love and follow Him.
Well, happy Friday, again, dear readers. Yes, I did pre-empt my mother’s reminder text about writing a blog post this evening, because, as always, I have put it off to the last minute. By that, I mean my bedtime. It was a rather uninspiring week. A tedious week. Lots of long red lights downtown, traffic on Highway 40, several employee communications and one blood pressure increasing press release. But at least it is Friday.
I have confirmed that this is my last weekend of 2025 with zero plans. For the rest of the year, I have something to do every weekend. I know, I know..
In reality, it’s most DAR-related activities. Okay, maybe the gif is appropriate.
My mother and I considered taking this opportunity to drive to Litchfield, Illinois, home of a Steak-n-Shake active enough to have billboards on the highway declaring the Golden Age of French Fries has arrived. Our road trip would then take us to the Pink Elephant Antique Mall. Instead, I think I am going to sleep in and do chores and maybe hit up the Hobby Lobby for some fall table/mantle decor. Again, the gif is so accurate.
dual personalities 