Thursday, October 28, 2010
Hosanna: Prayer to the Trinity
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Strong enough for monotony
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Kitchens more Cozy
(In Everything) Dans Gratias
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Amazing French Kitchen
Friday, October 22, 2010
George sounds like David
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Go West
Language
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Ben Alexander: GOD'S HOSPITALITY
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Linoleum is nice
Of course I don’t mean it’s nice in the same way polished hardwood is nice, or even in the way rock tile is nice. But it earns a bit of appreciation, maybe even respect, in the course of a long afternoon including 30 children, a handful of grownups and a small but very excited dog, a sliding glass door left standing open and another door turning on its hinges like a lazy man or an insomniac turning on his bed.
Occasion: Sunday. Date: mid-October, when standing in the shade is frigidus but keeping busy in the sun feels like summer again; the grass still green, and the mud minimal. Menu: a pig roasted in a pit in the ground. Expectations and Appetites: high and rising.
If you haven't noticed yet, things don’t always happen as they should. A pig shot and bled, relieved of its innards which are replaced by 20 pounds of vegetables, can come out of a fire pit only about ½ as raw as it was 24 hours ago. It might look disturbingly close to alive but with a large incision down its middle ready to spill potatoes and carrots, and with a shriveled apple in its mouth. It just might.
It is what we do with these moments that decides what kind of memorable our Sabbath feast is.
Large butcher knives came out. Big hunks of hams (still legged) were stuck in a hot oven. Long loin roasts were laid on the grill outside. Sizzling happened for an hour or more while the men continued to rid the carcass of meat. Children eventually stopped standing at elbow-distance and dispersed to play in the chicken yard and let about half of the hens out, hold babies, whack each other with shovels, and coax a bonfire into life. Everyone pressed cider. Snacks held off the grumpies. The door swung, and boot-, sandal- and converse-covered feet tread and re-tread the way from the patio to the snack table to the kitchen sink to the other door and out again.
By four PM lunch had happened. I'll skip over the fabulous salad generously studded with blue cheese and craisins, the stuffed potatoes, the fruit bowl, the hummus and crackers and cantaloupe, the three scrumptious desserts, and just mention the pork – hot and fresh, a bowl of cubes chopped for the toddlers, plates of thin slices just done, piles of it still there after the dessert platters were reduced to crumb-holders. The kids kept cycling through the kitchen (and the adults weren’t much better), snagging a slice with their fingers and tooling off to the bonfire or the slide or the hay shed again.
It wasn’t until the sweeping-up happened that I wondered if it was possible for what was brought into the house by the feet to equal the amount of meat consumed. During the mopping (somewhere around switching the mop-end out because it was no longer the correct color), I stopped and looked over at the living room, comfortably carpeted in greyish shag, then back at the mop. Linoleum is awesome. No question about it.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Lately Happening, & Sister Photoshoot
Friday, October 8, 2010
Reshaping the World
Reshaping the World
for mom
Those hands can bring cheese-curds from warm milk,
rocking horses out of straight pieces of birch-wood,
and strong yellow notes from a cold brass trumpet.
I have watched those hands
turn silver knitting needles through fine white thread
night by night until it became a lace table covering,
watched them swirl dark lead into smooth lines of cursive,
and fold over tiny fingers just learning to shape letters.
They have patted small backs and given comfort
with the rhythm of rocker and song and heartbeat,
and have brushed back the hair from flu-sticky faces,
administering water and clean rags and pepto-bismol.
I’ve seen those fingers curve around long screwdrivers
and heavy-headed hammers and sharp splitting-mauls
and cross-shaped tire wrenches, wielding them well;
seen them twist and form fishbone braids,
and loaves of dark wheat bread on the table,
and thick fir branches into a Christmas circle.
They’ve been splashed and spattered with blood,
I’ve seen those hands torn by barbed-wire,
seen her knuckles scraped helping Dad under the hood,
seen her skin crack in the dry, bitter cold of January.
I have watched those hands move to marvel and give again
when the newborn baby was set at her side
after a night-long labor, never flinching from the stain
of dark red that is life.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Despair Not
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
my psalm of petition
Your eyes see further
and Your way is beyond me.
I stumble down my path
because I do not yet walk by sight
and fumble in the darkness.
When will You lead Me
and show me Your plans?
Monday, October 4, 2010
Sunday and Monday update
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Keeping Sabbath
Friday, October 1, 2010
My Muse
As Kingfishers Catch Fire
BY GERARD MANLEY
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came.
I say móre: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is —
Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.