dual personalities

Tag: Episcopal Church

“Why do you seek the living among the dead?”*

by chuckofish

If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed in glory. (Colossians 3:1-4)

I spent most of Saturday getting the house ready and cooking for Sunday. I also gabbed on the phone with my dual personality and two daughters. And I watched Ben-Hur (1959) and some of the special features on Friday and Saturday nights. My life is just too exciting sometimes.

Sunday dawned rainy and dark–too wet for the egg hunt at church which had to be moved inside–bummer! Our service was very nice with a brass quartet (but no timpani). I was the second reader and got to read the above passage from Paul’s letter to the Colossians. I was more dressed up than usual, so I was wearing heels, and I worried that I would fall on my way up to the lectern.  I kept picturing Catherine O’Hara in Best in Show

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But that drama was thankfully averted.

The boy and his wee family and his in-laws came over for brunch after church. We served Episcopal souffle and fruit salad and croissants and mimosas…

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–the perfect brunch in my book!

It’s always nice to get out the silver and the crystal, isn’t it? I didn’t use my fine china because it didn’t look right with my tablecloth. But the old Wedgwood worked fine.

The wee babes were adorable and as entertaining as always.

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The little bud shows the OM his right hook.

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Also, I should have noted last Friday, that besides it being Good Friday, it was also daughter #2’s birthday!  I think she had a nice day.

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…and I did manage to send a birthday package to her which got there in time for her birthday!susie.jpeg

The plates are the same, and she hasn’t changed so very much either!

Have a good Monday!

*Luke 24:5

 

Balm in Gilead

by chuckofish

Today is the anniversary of the deaths of two country music greats: Tammy Wynette (1942-1998) and Merle Haggard (1937-2016). They died on the same day but 18 years apart. Weird.

Here they are singing “Today I Started Lovin’ You Again”–a classic song of regret and unrequited love written by Merle Haggard and Bonnie Owens in 1968.

In case you were wondering–(as I did)–“He Stopped Lovin’ Her Today,” which has been named in several surveys as the greatest country song of all time, was released twelve years after “Today I Started Lovin’ You Again.”  So it was Merle who started that ball rolling.

And if you weren’t wondering, you can still toast them tonight.

In other news, I went to see the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church at Graham Chapel on the campus of my flyover university the other evening.

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He was introduced by our Provost (an Episcopalian!) and by our former senator/Episcopal priest who endowed the Center for Religion and Politics which sponsored the talk. Bishop Curry gave a rousing sermon (he was invited to speak on “Healing a House Divided”) and, through the old-timey and very effective method of repetition, had everyone in the packed chapel saying with him, If you cannot sing like angels, If you can’t preach like Paul, You can tell the love of Jesus, And say He died for all.

When he started singing at the end, everyone joined right in with him: There is a balm in Gilead, To make the wounded whole; There is a balm in Gilead, To heal the sin-sick soul.

…Not something I have ever experienced at this flyover university.

He made his point–that only through the love of JESUS will the divisiveness in this country be healed. Amen, brother. Maybe there is hope for the Episcopal Church.

“The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand”*

by chuckofish

Well, for the first time in three months, the OM and I didn’t have to venture out to the NICU on Saturday–yay!

Indeed, I had nothing planned for the weekend besides a funeral on Saturday for another pillar of our church, a classy 95-year old lady who was the last of our British war-brides. The service was Rite I Burial of the Dead, which took well over an hour–just the way I like it. Why shouldn’t a funeral be long? The woman’s three children and one daughter-in-law spoke beforehand and the rector gave a better-than-usual homily (he actually knew the deceased). The grandson who is in divinity school was the cantor and intoned the initial anthem (“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord”). It was a lovely service and there was even a piper at the end playing “Loch Lomond”. The reception was a proper English Tea with cucumber sandwiches etc. and even wine for some of us unruly Americans–just kidding, no one was unruly.

In other news, I read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, which, I must say, still holds up after 50 years and, indeed, packs quite a punch. I mean a book about hoodlums that can make this jaded lady cry (several times) must be darn good. I was impressed and I recommend you read this classic young adult novel. Written by a sixteen year-old back in 1966, it still rings true. “Things are rough for everybody.” Next I am going to find the movie (1983), which was directed by Francis Ford Coppola and starred a panoply of rising 80s stars.

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I remember it being pretty good. Ralph Macchio and Matt Dillon stand out in my memory.

Meanwhile the yard is greening up and the birds are chirping merrily. Could it be spring for real?!

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Well, the Florida Room is open for business.

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And the boy and his wee family came over for our first barbecue of the season on Sunday evening. Of course, they were dressed appropriately in their Cardinal gear for the season opener.

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They weren’t very interested in the game.

And the boy can now make gifs!

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Cool, right? Have a good week. It’s going to be a busy one.

*Psalm 121

“Visit us with thy salvation, enter every trembling heart”*

by chuckofish

While my DP was shivering in 12-degree weather in the north country, we were enjoying spring temps in flyover-land. I went to a couple of estate sales and found a watercolor of Bruton Parish church, which, as you know, is one of my favorite Episcopal churches.

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We visited the wee babes at the hospital, but didn’t get to see the boy who was filming a lacrosse game at the time. We had quality time with daughter #3 who brought us up to date on the twins.

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Aren’t they looking good?

On Sunday I skipped church and went to see Degas, Impressionism, and the Paris Millinery Trade, a “groundbreaking exploration of Edgar Degas’ fascination with high-fashion hats and the young women who made them,” at the St. Louis Art Museum which featured “an array of period hats and 60 paintings and pastels, including key works by Degas that have never been exhibited in the United States.”

58b05edae6f4b.image.jpgI am not a huge fan of French Impressionism, so an exhibit focusing on French woman and their hats (especially hats with dead birds on them) turned out to be not that exciting to me.

Since the OM had declined to accompany me (He had “too many things to do”–whatever), I decided to check out the rest of the museum. I was pleasantly surprised to see the re-furbished second floor of the main building.

panorama.jpgThere was actually a lot to see! The European, Asian and Ancient art displayed was impressive and I recognized a lot of “old friends” which must have been in storage for years.

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Likewise, I enjoyed the “re-imagined” American Art galleries on the third floor.

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The space for American Art has been greatly expanded and, again, includes a lot of good things. I was pleasantly surprised.

I went home where I puttered around and later that evening I went to Lenten Evensong at church which was a good way to wind up the weekend.

O Lord, support us all the day long, until the shadows lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in thy mercy, grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last.

Now it is Monday again. Have a good week! Seize the day!

*Charles Wesley

Well done, good and faithful servant

by chuckofish

As I have mentioned before, the liturgical calendar of the Episcopal Church remembers Eric Liddell (1902–1945) with a feast day on February 22.

God whose strength bears us up as on mighty wings: We rejoice in remembering thy athlete and missionary, Eric Liddell, to whom thou didst bestow courage and resolution in contest and in captivity; and we pray that we also may run with endurance the race that is set before us and persevere in patient witness, until we wear that crown of victory won for us by Jesus our Savior; who with thee and the Holy Spirit livest and reignest, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

On July 17, 1924, less than two weeks after his Olympic victory, at his graduation in McEwan Hall of Edinburgh University, Sir Alfred Ewing – Principal and Vice Chancellor said: “Mr Liddell, you have shown that none can pass you but the examiner. In the ancient Olympic tests the victor was crowned with wild olive by the High priest of Zeus, and a poem written in his honour was presented to him. A Vice Chancellor is no High Priest, but he speaks and acts for the University; and in the name of the University, which is proud of you, and to which you have brought fresh honour, I present you with this epigram in Greek, composed by Professor Mair, and place upon your head this chaplet of wild olive.”

The scroll reads (in English):

The University of Edinburgh congratulates

Eric Henry Liddell

Olympic Victor in the 400 Metres.

Happy the man who the wreathed games essaying

Returns the laurelled brow,

Thrice happy victor thou, such speed displaying

As none hath showed till now;

We enjoy, and Alma Mater, for the merit

Proffers to thee this crown:

Take it, Olympic Victor. While you wear it

May Heaven never frown.”

Eric stated, when compelled to make a short speech, after being carried aloft by cheering crowds and fellow students to the doors of St Giles Cathedral for the University Service: “Over the gate of Pennsylvania University are inscribed these words, ‘In the dust of defeat as well as in the laurels of victory there is a glory to be found if one has done his best.”

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(Yours truly in front of St. Giles a few years ago)

Liddell returned to Northern China to serve as a missionary, like his parents, from 1925 to 1943 – first in Tianjin and later in the town of Xiaozhang. In 1943, he was interned at the Weihsien Internment Camp (in the modern city of Weifang) with the members of the China Inland Mission and many others.

Langdon Gilkey, who survived the camp and became a prominent theologian in his native America, said of Liddell: “Often in an evening I would see him bent over a chessboard or a model boat, or directing some sort of square dance – absorbed, weary and interested, pouring all of himself into this effort to capture the imagination of these penned-up youths. He was overflowing with good humor and love for life, and with enthusiasm and charm. It is rare indeed that a person has the good fortune to meet a saint but he came as close to it as anyone I have ever known.” (The Guardian)

Early in 1945, six months before the camp’s liberation, Liddell became ill. In a letter he told his wife that he feared he was having a nervous breakdown. In fact it was a brain tumor, untreatable in those circumstances, and on February 21 he died.

He was buried in the garden behind the Japanese officers’ quarters, his grave marked by a small wooden cross. The site was forgotten until it was rediscovered in 1989 by fellow Scotsman, Charles T. Walker, in the grounds of what is now Weifeng Middle School. When he decided to erect a memorial, offers of help and money came flooding in from Scotland, England and Hong Kong. A gravestone, made of red granite from the Isle of Mull and carved by a mason in Tobermory, was placed near the site in 1991.

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Mr. Walker and a group of prominent Hong Kong business and civic leaders announced the formation of the Eric Liddell Foundation, which sponsors athletic training for youngsters from China, Hong Kong and Britain.

Cheng Hon-kwan, a director of the foundation and a member of Hong Kong’s Executive and Legislative Councils, was a student at the Tiensin school. In 1941, he was 14 years old, and Mr. Liddell, who had returned from relief work, was his science teacher. “He was very well liked by the students,” Mr. Cheng recalled. “We all knew he was an Olympic gold medal winner and that he had not run on Sunday. Everyone thought of him as a hero. He was tall and very fit, but he was bald headed by then. My impression was of a very lively, very likable man.” (NYT)

A toast to Eric Liddell, Christian gentleman.

“And infant voices shall proclaim their early blessings on his name”*

by chuckofish

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(Napping wee babes who look like they are sitting up, but are not actually.)

Although it appears that spring has sprung here in flyover country, we all know that this is unlikely. Not to say we did not enjoy the weather this weekend!

I worked in the yard and wore myself out, but what a nice change! While outside, I watched a battle royal between a bunch of crows and a red-tailed hawk that was amazing. Such a ruckus. I gather that crows hate red-tailed hawks and with good reason probably, but count me on team red-tailed hawk.

Anyway, no matter what happens now weather-wise, it won’t be long ’til spring.

I went to church and read the first lesson (the Levitcus reading about love thy neighbor as thyself) and was also the Intercessor. The Gospel lesson was the one about “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” which is setting the bar pretty high for this week.

I started re-reading An Uncertain Place by the French mystery writer Fred Vargas, who is a favorite of mine.

Adamsberg imagined Danglard’s mind as a block of fine limestone, where rain, in other words questions, had hollowed out countless basins in which his worries gathered, unresolved. Every day, three or four of these basins were active simultaneously. Just now, the journey through the tunnel, the woman in London, the feet in Highgate. As Adamsberg had explained to him, the energy Danglard expended on these questions, seeking to empty out the basins, was a waste of time. Because no sooner had he cleared out one space than it made way for something else, for another set of agonizing questions. By digging away at them, he was stopping peaceful sedimentation from taking place, and the natural filling up of the excavations, which would happen if he forgot about them.

If you have not discovered Fred Vargas, I recommend her.

Following up on my blogpost on Friday, I watched a lot of Miami Vice, season three.

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This is always a good idea.

The boy and daughter #3 came over after a day at the hospital for spaghetti last night and that was fun.

I could use another day after such a busy weekend, but, alas, I do not have Presidents Day off. Lucky you, if you do.

*Isaac Watts (1674-1748) hymn #544

“Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, for the facing of the hour”*

by chuckofish

Spring seemed on the verge of arriving this weekend with temps in the 70s and new life bursting forth all over.

Screen Shot 2017-02-12 at 2.55.05 PM.pngBut this happens every year and we know not to be fooled–the cold weather will return.

The OM and I went to see the wee babes this weekend according to our new routine.

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The little gal thinks, “My, Pappy, what big glasses you have!”

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As you can see, they are making great strides and are mastering the “suck, swallow, breath” drill. Even the little guy, who is still only 4 lbs, 8 oz., is beginning to have that chubby baby look at last. They are doing fine.

I went to church and there were very few people there. (I wondered whether people thought going to Joe’s funeral on Thursday let them off the hook.) After church, I had lunch with my pals and we marveled at how busy we are. I did find time over the weekend to finish The Transit of Venus. You know, it takes longer to read a book to which you have to pay such close attention. I felt while reading it that I was just barely smart enough to appreciate it.

You might have said, What beauty. Instead Caro introduced herself. Monosyllables were planted like bollards, closing every avenue. The boy had not forgotten what to say: he had chosen a part with no lines. He was cool, and except for the wrists, unruffled. One talked as if to a child. “What’s your name, where do you go to school?” His name was Felix, and he was to go somewhere–no doubt Oxford, or doubtless Cambridge–in the autumn. When someone else came up he disappeared instantly, having somehow stuck it out till then.

Shirley Hazzard, wow.

Now it is Monday again. Take it slow. Savor the moment. Live in the now.

*Hymn #594, Harry Emerson Fosdick

“Southstreet, give your testimony.”*

by chuckofish

I went to a funeral at our church yesterday. Joe was a real pillar of the church, a former vestryman, junior warden, senior warden, softball coach, scoutmaster–you name it, he did it. He was in church last Sunday, sitting as usual a few pews behind me, so when I heard the news on Monday, I was a little freaked out. He died on Sunday night in his recliner, watching an old movie. (John Wayne was his favorite.)

All three of his sons spoke lovingly of their dad before the service. All three are Eagle Scouts and active churchmen. Impressive. Joe was always there for them, “present” as they said; something that I’m afraid is rare these days.

For 40 years Joe and his wife had a party at their house every Christmas Eve after the children’s service at church for all the misfits at church who didn’t have family in town. We went to this party for over 10 years. Sometimes my children were slightly chagrined to be associated with some of the kids who were there–other misfits like us. But I know that now, from their more mature  perspectives, they look back fondly on those Christmas Eves and on Joe who would talk to anybody–even awkward middle schoolers.

The church, of course, was packed for the memorial service–as one of his sons said, like Christmas or Easter! Of course it was. Joe had friends from high school, his college fraternity, work, volunteer work, scouts, and church. I held out until the last hymn–“Amazing Grace” with bagpipe accompaniment–and then wept openly. The boy was with me and he  patted my shoulder. Joe, after all, had been at his Court of Honor and at his wedding. He knows they broke the mold with Joe.

But thankfully it’s Friday again! I am really looking forward to the weekend, aren’t you?

I get to see the wee babes who have been moved to another section (“the yellow side”) of the NICU and are down to 2% on their oxygen–practically room air! They are sleeping in open cribs and their parents can pick them up and hold them like regular babies now.

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Pretty exciting!

If you are trying to think of something good to watch this weekend, you might pick something written and/or directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz (1909-1993) whose birthday is tomorrow. Among his films are The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), All About Eve (1950), Guys and Dolls (1955) and Cleopatra (1963).

guys-and-dolls-27443You can’t go wrong there.

It is also the anniversary of the death of Henry Hathaway (1898-1985) who directed The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935), Legend of the Lost (1957), North to Alaska (1960), How the West Was Won (1962), Circus World (1964), The Sons of Katie Elder (1965), Nevada Smith (1966), True Grit (1969) and many others.

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Can’t go wrong with Steve, but I may have to watch one of those John Wayne classics and raise a glass to Joe.

Into paradise may the angels lead you, Joe. At your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

*Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls

Teach me, my God and King, in all things thee to see*

by chuckofish

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Got to hold this little nugget this weekend. It felt real good.

I also gabbed on the phone with my dual personality and two daughters. I got my hair cut and put together two Valentine boxes to mail to the aforementioned daughters. I worked in the yard on Sunday when the temperatures soared into the fifties.

The boy came over and helped me take down one twin bed in his old room and haul it and the mattress down to the basement. Then, after carrying the pieces upstairs, he put together the antique double bed I bought at an estate sale last fall (remember?). He is one busy boy and I appreciate his coming over to help his old mother. We didn’t even give him dinner; he was headed somewhere afterwards.

I continued to read The Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard–really such a treat.

The cicatrice of stitching on her gloves was an imprint on his brain. Earrings of pearl stared, white-eyed as fish. There was a streak of flowered scarf, inane, and the collar blue. Grief had a painter’s eye, assigning arbitrary meaning at random–like God.

We watched two  movies that are practically antiques–The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934) and Captain Blood (1935)–but which, in all the years since they were made, have never been surpassed on so many levels of cinematic effort. We watched a bit of the Super Bowl because the OM wanted to. Truly, I haven’t cared about football since Kurt Warner was traded to Arizona. (Except for Peyton Manning and he retired.)

I felt very happy sitting in church on Sunday. Nothing/no one annoyed me. I will try to hold on to this feeling and carry it into the work week.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

*George Herbert, hymn #592

God direct my thinking today

by chuckofish

Yesterday on the Episcopal Church calendar was the lesser feast day of Sam Shoemaker, (1893-1963), who was an Episcopal priest instrumental in the Oxford Group and founding principles of Alcoholics Anonymous.

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Lest we forget, Dr. Samuel Moor Shoemaker was the rector of the Calvary Church in New York City, which was the U.S. headquarters of the Oxford Group. Bill Wilson attended Oxford Group meetings at the Calvary Church and Sam was instrumental in assisting Bill Wilson with the writing of the book Alcoholics Anonymous (nickname: The Big Book).

In 1917 Sam Shoemaker was sent to China to start a branch of the YMCA and to teach at the Princeton-in-China Program. Feeling discouraged there in 1918, he first met Frank Buchman, who told him of the four absolutes, honesty, purity and unselfishness and love. Shoemaker would later speak of the meeting as a major influence for the start of his ministry, that being the time when he decided to let go of self and let God guide his life.

Bill Wilson would later give credit to Sam Shoemaker whom he referred to as a co-founder of AA.

” It was from Sam Shoemaker, that we absorbed most of the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, steps that express the heart of AA’s way of life. Dr. Silkworth gave us the needed knowledge of our illness, but Sam Shoemaker had given us the concrete knowledge of what we could do about it, he passed on the spiritual keys by which we were liberated. The early AA got its ideas of self-examination, acknowledgement of character defects, restitution for harm done, and working with others straight from the Oxford Group and directly from Sam Shoemaker, their former leader in America, and from nowhere else.”

Rev. Shoemaker wrote over thirty books, at least half of which were circulating before AA’s 12 Steps were first published in the Big Book in 1939. Shoemaker’s contributions and service to Alcoholics Anonymous and as a minister of the Anglican Communion and Episcopal Church of America have had a worldwide effect. The philosophy that Shoemaker codified, in conjunction with Bill Wilson, is used in almost every country around the world to treat alcoholism.

God bless these amazing guys who started AA! Truly their coming together and working out the AA system was a miracle.

There is, by the way, a good made-for-tv movie called My Name is Bill W. (1989 Hallmark Hall of Fame) starring James Woods and James Garner. It is based on the true story of William Griffith Wilson and Dr. Robert Holbrook Smith, M.D.,  the co-founders of AA.

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James Woods won an Emmy for his portrayal of Wilson. I don’t remember if Sam Shoemaker is featured as a character–they no doubt soft-pedaled the spiritual side of the story. I think I will see if I can find it to watch. I remember thinking it was excellent at the time.

Holy God, we give thanks to thee for the vision of Samuel Shoemaker, who labored for the renewal of all people: Grant, we pray, that we may follow his example to help others find salvation through the knowledge and love of Jesus Christ our Savior; who with thee and the Holy Spirit liveth and reigneth, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

A lot of material for this post is lifted from http://www.satucket.com/lectionary/sam_shoemaker.htm