Showing posts with label community. Show all posts
Showing posts with label community. Show all posts

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Home

I've been thinking about homemaking, and making a home. About making things homey, feeling at home, turning a house into a home. About whose job it is and who it is for and why we need homes and not just hotels a month at a time. About how I can study and improve here.

I can't stop thinking about that mysterious mixture of things that goes into a good home, or at least into the home I want us to have:

the mixture of relaxed and put together,
     welcoming and private,
     tidy and lived-in,
     classy and modern,
     projects that are like work and that like play,
     masculine and feminine,
     practical and decorative,
     old and new,
     strength and beauty,
     established and evolving,
     quiet and conversational,
     clean and yet not sterile-feeling,
and so many more things.

Tonight I'm thinking about whose job it is to manage these things. And I believe that the balance of these (sometimes seemingly opposite qualities) is achieved by both man and woman being involved in some way in the house.

The 'homemaker' probably makes us all think of the wife, and it's true that often, historically and in our circles, the woman of the house is responsible for much of this because she is there more hours of the day than her husband. And because most women have an eye for beauty; they enjoy the planning and buying and arranging and decorating and cooking and cleaning that make this place run in a lovely and functional way. If that is where your strengths lie and what your husband would like and what you are able to accomplish with joy, then splendid. And I might envy you your ability to do it all.

(rabbit painting by Terri Rice)

But what if you both work and you aren't home until pretty much supper time just like him? What if he works from home and has fewer demands on his time? What if he came into the relationship with a more complete set of furnishings, dishes, art, and linens? What if you are often so busy with the care of small children that you have no energy to finish the evening meal and do more than swish out the toilet with some bleach, let alone scrub the entire house every day, and who even cares about whether there is a nice looking arrangement on the side table or there is anything hung on that one empty wall in the living room? What if he has an eye for aesthetics that you don't, or what if it just exhausts you and stresses you out, but makes him happy to set things into place and make things attractive and give to you through cooking or doing the dishes every night or cleaning the bathroom or picking up pieces of art he comes across somewhere? Strong believers in gender roles tell us it is 'femmy' or gay for a man to care about the house. We hear (sometimes aloud, sometimes implied) that the woman who lets or asks her husband to do the interior decorating is failing in her job as keeper of the house. A woman who doesn't do 90% of everything in the home (and have it mostly done before her husband gets home from work) feels guilty for not doing her job completely enough. Even the woman who has an 8 to 5 job is often expected to carry a large portion, if not all, of the runnings of the household on her shoulders.

I love beautiful homes. Sometimes I even have ideas on how to go about making an empty wall look better, but usually I have to see something in a magazine or showroom or friend's house to spark my creativity. I love cooking and baking and presenting a meal. At least a couple of times a week I am inspired to do these things and most of the time I receive compliments on my work in the kitchen. I love to clean, and to inhabit a clean, clear space. But I am not perfect in these areas (in fact, I am trying to spur myself on to do a lot better in all of them!), and I am definitely not alone in these things. My husband is very attune to the aesthetics of a room, an outfit, a meal, a wall, a piece of music, a movie or book; and he is not only aware of when they are good or bad and willing to comment (which sometimes makes a detail-oriented person terribly annoying to a spouse trying hard and not being perfect). Fraser can *do* things about his tastes. Often better than I can, or with less hesitation than I do. He is the one who has had (progressively better) ideas for laying out the living room; he is the one who brought home the Renoir print that sits on our dresser; he measured and arranged and hung most of the pictures and mirrors on the walls; he cooks at least as much as I do, and reminds me often that he WANTS to do these things for or with me. And it's wonderful.

I realize that every couple is different, and that my husband is probably (if not almost certainly) more helpful and interested in arranging the living room, or making quiche or braised chicken, or dusting the house on Saturday while the game is on, than most husbands are. Not every man wants to be that involved. Some perhaps seem to not care at all. But I think that they should care, and should be involved with how their home serves its members and those who receive hospitality there, whatever level it may be for him.

Of course, a man who takes over completely the running of the home (whether he tells his wife her work is shoddy, re-does whatever she has thought of whenever she leaves the room, or just overturns her every spoken idea for what could be done in it) is doing his wife an unkindness and a disservice. And a woman who decorates and buys and plans and cooks without any regard for the wishes of her husband is likewise doing it wrong. Theirs will not be a happy home, because it is not a balanced home, and I think it will be obvious that there is an imbalance to those who visit. I've been in a few houses where I wonder HOW on earth a man would ever feel relaxed here because there are SO MANY ruffles and everything is floral and shades of pink and teacups sit on doilies everywhere you look and is there even a place he can set his shoes that won't look silly?

I think marking out our differences and our spheres of work or specialty is sometimes done too strongly, and our partnership and likenesses and friendship and co-ownership in all our things could be lived a little stronger. It is not the woman's domain to the exclusion of the man's comfort, expression, or participation.

God made us humans first, and a man and a woman are more alike (when you think of the whole creation) than they are different. Our roles are going to differ, and our jobs are often going to be very different - especially if there are children or she is home most of the day and he isn't. But we are first and foremost partners, not opposites, and our homes should show that about our persons and our relationship; that we have done this together (even if the collaboration is as simple as running ideas past one another and asking for input) and live here together.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Keep Moving: in which I ramble

Moving.

The word keeps coming to me. I'm trying to piece together all the ways this word applies to my life right now, and (because I'm me and think about things like a total nerd and over-analyzer) what metaphorical, theological, philosophical meanings i


t can have as well. It's still kind of early in the morning for deep thoughts, though, so Laura at least will be relieved to know I'm not going to write an in-depth treatise on anything right now. This is just some pondering, wandering, wondering thoughts and tiny epiphanies about Life.

I've been packing up and moving from Jefferson Street, where, once again, I have spent a good year with wonderful people. My belongings are in cardboard and in plastic organizers, my clothing is all in a couple of baskets, and I'm in that place where there's not really a place I can call home.

In 16 days I will be marrying the man who is the kindest, funniest, most encouraging, smart and good-looking person I know. Marrying him. Sometimes this freaks me out, because this is the biggest and most permanent and responsible and forever and hard thing that I will ever commence. This is the biggest move. I have turned to him, and will never turn away. I am moving on to a different phase of life, and can never go back. I am not single. I do not belong to myself. I cannot 'do whatever I want with the future' like people have told me for years. I will spend the rest of my life getting closer to him, helping him do what he needs to, stepping in line with him, moving as he does.

And he with me. He tells me he has changed because of me. When you love someone, you do things differently, for bigger reasons, with more intention, for righter reasons, because being with them just makes you want to. What I want is to always be moving toward each other with the beauty of real grace, and with each other toward God, and with His help outward the rest of the world.

We are all in constant motion. We are all changing with the time, day by day, year by year, becoming more or less like Christ, learning more moves for this Living, broadening our characters and changing in preferences and expanding in thoughts and comprehension of the universe around us.

Moving. Moving on. Moving out. Yet we carry in our bodies and in our souls the all that has come before. I told Fraser I was excited about our new life together - it seems like it will be all new. He reminded me that it's not quite like Eden; we have histories already. And he wants not just the new of the two of us, but all of me that the last 30 years has built.

I must keep moving. I have things to do. Today I go to my job, and continue on the path I've been for a while. I order roses and go see about a marriage license and apply for another job, reaching forward to the new. Today I roll a song over and over in my head, and it colors my thoughts. Today I go to my old house and clear out more of the past, saying goodbye with boxes and cleaning rags and bleach and brooms. I spend time with my sisters, and we pull the past of our solid friendship into the now with our adult lives and point forward into the crazy good of the months ahead.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Love that gives

Love gives. God gave His only Son. The Son gave His life. Friends give gifts and time to be with you. Parents give everything for their children. Teachers give because they love their subjct and their students. A man and a woman give up their own lives and names and plans to build a new one together.

When love gives, it creates. It creates worth, it makes new things, and it makes beautiful. The sun gives to the earth, and the earth returns in fruit and green. When God loves, His people are sanctified and glorified. "The Lord takes pleasure in His people; He will beautify the humble with salvation. (Psalm 149:4)

Love adorns with gifts, sometimes outward objects like a circle of gold for a finger, and sometimes just by strengthening the beloved with good words: praise and wonder, accountability and correction, and shared stories and histories.

Love, karis, grace, gifts don't take away. They give by adding. They give by building up. Through it we become more who we are meant to be, can have more confidence in who we are. Confidence is a part of faith, of trust, and makes secure, makes steady. We have boldness to stand before our Maker. We know we are not alone. We feel more lovely, and that is based less on ourselves and more on one we trust, and so we don't hide ourselves or go hesitant about our lives. We have rest concerning our future, because love never fails.

---
Yesterday, it was 100 days to our wedding day. Fraser brought me roses and chocolate at lunchtime, and I made him pie in the evening. We have a long way to go together: may we learn to give more like our Lord in the coming 99 days, and every one after that.



Saturday, October 6, 2012

Together

This is the morning-after of our biggest dinner to-date at the Jefferson House. Four tables were used, twenty-four people served, and eaten was zucchini soup, bread and butter, fresh pineapple, diced sweet potatoes with onions, mulled wine, and oatmeal raisin cookies. I love how generous my house of roommates is, and I love it when everyone comes together (including guests) to make table space and seating work. Two tables, many chairs, and a couple stacks of bowls, along with a handful of spoons, were added to ours to supply our every need. And a good time was had by all.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

pieces and homes, and lots of pictures

(Many of these pictures were taken by other people)
 
driving north
 
              Naomi and I with huckleberries                                    The Sidney Psalter
 
 I have been an adult for longer than I'd like to admit, and moved away from home years ago now, and there is much joy and fulfillment and strength God has given me in this community and town and house which I am part of now. But still fresh in me is the uncertainty and responsibility and loneliness, the lostness and the frustration that come with leaving home for the first time and having to figure things out for yourself in the wide, wide world. You are pulled two ways. You are pulled on by the past, the things that made you who you are, the people who know you best, the habits and friends that delight and comfort you. And you are tugged at by the future, by possibility, by promise, by the expectations of others, and by your own strengths and ambitions. Leaving home is simultaneously one of the best and worst things about growing up.
Silas and I explore a culvert                       Lydia and the CdA beach
 
clear blue Pend Orielle river
 
Perhaps that was a hard time, and perhaps every young person knows it - that in-between where home with your parents doesn't quite feel the same way it used to, but you haven't married and bought a house and settled in for the long haul of establishing your own home for the rest of your life there.
Natalie and I                                                  The Cove                          


                                 Moscow Mountain cookout
 
                                     the happy orange chair


Jonte and I only wish we were hobos
                             drinks to celebrate our new place
Perhaps it is true that I'm still there, in that in-between. It feels that way now and then, no matter how satisfying my job is, how happy I am in my church family, how lovely my house and roommates, how delightful my weekends and evenings with books and good coffee shopes with live music and writing and beer with friends and long talks with sisters and all of the things that fill my life.
Elsi reading in the van                                                            Ben with Alyssa


Hailey and baby





















NY Johnny's with friends late at night (Kristina, Kurt, me, Sara, Fraser, Mel, Susanna)                                                                
                                              
But I am here for now. I am building a home. And I am building who I am. I buy things for those purpose: tall lamps and old books and sweet-smelling candles and bright flowers to beautify and make useful my home, and food and clothing and more books and tuition for classes that fill my soul and body. And I hope to be building up another body, another household, with my presence and my hospitality and my gifts given to this community. This home becomes more home to me all the time.
Matt and Evelyn                                                            
Laura, Elsi and I


Snake River with Jonte, Emily and Ashley
                                                     
Coeur d'Alene Lake                                                                         
                                
But one of the nicest things about not living where I was born, and about trying to accomplish this settling-in and home-making here, is being able to go home in more than one direction. For home to be not in one place means that I have bits of my heart in more than one place, and while that hurt when it first happened, it does less now. The longer we live, the more places we go, the more pieces our hearts become, and this isn't a bad thing. Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also, a wise man once rightly said. Where you invest your love, you invest your life, sang someone a little less important, but he was right as well. Love means investing, love means caring, love means missing what is loved when you are far away from it. Those places you have so many memories of that parts of you want to go back to sometimes so badly that you ache? That is love. Those faces you can visualize perfectly even though you haven't seen them since the beginning of the school year? Those are your investments. That place on top of the mountain where you sat and stared out at the dark of the world and the lights of mens' lives, and stared up at the dark of space and the lights of singing planets and stars, and you felt like you could stay in that moment for all time and be content? That is the glory of being a human with a soul.




Moving into our new house: Jonte, Mel, Tali and I





Ellis and Rachel's wedding            
                                                                       
                                                    Abel, Seth and I
 
The more places I taste, the more people I shake hands and chat and eat and work and theologize and commiserate and laugh hysterically with, the more books that I open and decipher by means of ink and phonics and imagination, the more songs I discover -- the more I live, the more I love, and there is always - and constantly increasing - things tugging at me from different directions. This pull - back toward all the things I have a fondness or a sharp memory of, forward toward all the things I want to know and love and stash in me like so much treasure - is part of what makes me know I have a soul. The pull shows me I am creature.
                                                                                              outing with Ria before she moved                                                            
                                                                  
Mel's birthday. Riquel, Donny, Adam, Mel, me, Jonte, Zach, Cherie, Bridgette, Wilson, Bailey
                                                            wonderful parents

Steptoe Butte with cameras and good cheer


Sunday, May 20, 2012

Garfield Girls

     Summertime. School is out. The Loving Roommate Society of Garfield Street has by necessity dissolved and will, alas, never be quite the same again.


     It is always strange being here when the other 4 girls are away, and I'm going to be here all summer while they are gone or will soon be taking off on their varied and restful and exciting lives. I shall miss their lovely persons, all their delightful quirks, our funny conversations, our movies while we're all crammed onto one ordinary-sized couch, and the crazy moments in my car when accidents seem inevitable but are always avoided.
     I'll miss waking up to Tali putting away dishes in the morning, and when we gang up on a huge pile of pots and pans and plates and cups and wine glasses after an epic weekend. I'll miss the rommmate dinners and the hospitality dinners, crowding too many people around our tables and asking the smallest person to sit on the high wooden stool, and passing the food and laughing at Emma's salting techniques and the ever-present problem of the water filter pitchers falling apart as you pour your water. I'll miss the after-dinner festivities: playing with the candles, snacking from the last piece on the serving dish, messing with the guitar and the mandolin, newspaper and seven pencils games, watching the fire and re-stoking it, or going out into the grass in the nice weather. I'll miss the walks at midnight, the pumpkin pie at midnight, the peanut butter cookies at midnight, watching House far past midnight, and laughing until we are almost sick at many of those crazy hours.
     I'll miss Emma's beautiful voice coming from the bathroom, Maria's Italian playlist coming on when she needs a perk, Becki's singing along with her country music while she has her earbuds in, and Tali's loud sunshine music on Saturday morning cleaning sprees.
     I'll miss the mountain trips, the Winco trips, and going to church together. I'll miss how we keep our food in separate cupboards but share something at least once a day. I'll miss asking for help with hair and what to wear to a dance. I'll even miss the little pregnant squaw and her legacy.
     I'll miss reading the funny-page together. I'll miss talking about guys. And talking about church services. And talking about our families. I'll miss Emma's generosity with MnM's and with the hilarious frosted mini-wheats. And Becki's sudden urges to make pudding or elaborate dinners when she is stressed. I'll miss Ria's snark, and Tali's scandalousness and obsession with putting pepper into things.
     I'll miss pretty much everything about the last nine months with these lovely ladies. It has been one of the best years of my life, and probably mostly because of who I spent it with. God has used these servants of His to sanctify and gladden me time and time again. What a gift, our year in the corner house together.

Friday, April 20, 2012

To Wake Up

Reading Annie Dillard's Teaching a Stone to Talk. Wow.
"We teach our children one thing only, as we were taught: to wake up. We teach our children to look alive there, to join by words and activities the life of human culture on the planet's crust. As adults we are almost all adept at waking up. We have so mastered the transition we have forgotten we ever learned it. Yet it is a transition we make a hundred times a day, as, like so many will-less dolphins, we plunge and surface, lapse and emerge. We live half our waking lives and all of our sleeping lives in some private, useless, and insensible waters we never mention or recall. Useless, I say. Valueless, I might add - until someone hauls their wealth up to the surface and into the wide-awake city, in a form that people can use." (pp22-3)

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Poverty and riches

"Poverty is not primarily about money. It is about having no idea what to do and/or having no one with whom to do it."
-Sam Wells

Most of my younger siblings and I on Hoodoo Mountain a couple weeks ago. (Me, Naomi, Seth, Lydia, Abbi, Abel, Silas, Elsi, Becki) This is after several hours and much cold and wet happened, after monster cookies and target shooting, after reeses peanut butter cups and movie quoting and piggy back rides and using binoculars and cameras a lot.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Chesterton, Faulkner, Roosevelt

You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink. - G. K. Chesterton
Gratitude is a quality similar to electricity: it must be produced and discharged and used up in order to exist at all. - William Faulkner
Let us remember that, as much has been given us, much will be expected from us, and that true homage comes from the heart as well as from the lips, and shows itself in deeds.
- Theodore Roosevelt

264-277 giving thanks
- I have a job. It pays me, it occupies me, it blesses me, it supports me, and it allows me to do some of the same to others in return.
- My grown-up little sister still comes to me to ask for advice and thoughts on her outfits, her hair, her college papers, her life. I love her.
- God's written word lives in my home. Through it, He spoke to me at breakfast, word by word, line by line.
- Tortillas are a wonderful thing.
- Scrabble breaks online with friends hundreds of miles from here
- The old ladies in my Madeleine L'Engle's novel
- Bucer's coffee
- Hearing my sister's voice from the next room as she works
- Classic rock stations on my car radio
- Warm sweaters with sleeves that come half-way over my hands
- A weekend of good movies: the fun and funky, the rough and action-filled
- My faithful pastor and his good words
- Reeses MnMs
- The luxury of leisure time. May I learn to use it more and more profitably.
- Enjoying Moscow Mountain yesterday with friends. This is a beautiful place.
picture by Andreas Leidenfrost

Monday, November 7, 2011

Linking

I've been thinking almost constantly about connecting with my community here, hoping to belong here more and more, and to bless those around me even as they bless me. I am learning to love people more this year than ever before. It has been a good evening on that front and I pray for it to continue.

167. Thankful for the residents at Clark House, and how they remind me of my grandparents who have passed away, and of the frailty of life, and the love of God to the very end.

168. For Jeremiah and Noai and the Rouch family, who are faithful in their ministry to these people through song, prayer, handshakes and conversation.

169. For the hymnals there that hold so many of the good old songs I have been missing.

170. For the voices - tiny and clear, old and wavering, middle-aged and firm, young and eager - that sing these songs.

171. For my car, that took me safely from home to there and back again, and then on to the book study.

172. For Mrs. Lawyer - her wisdom, her smile, her bluntness, her love.

173. For Rachel's cookies and the Maki girls' hospitality every week.

174. For the girls who joke and love and wink and shove on the way out the door.

175. For white stuff floating down, and for voices saying Merry Christmas 48 days early.

176. For that moment when you're all standing there with your car doors open and one leg ready to step into it but you are still talking and laughing with everyone and not quite ready to end the time together.

177. For girls who call hello as soon as I come into our house, and who ask me how I am as soon as I enter the room where they are studying their various subjects.

Monday, October 24, 2011

"Did you get a sunburn?"

Being a naturally-rosy person, and one that flushes easily with heat, embarrassment, anger, tears, laughter (you name it!), I have no idea how many times I've been asked that.

Today I didn't mind it at all.

Doris asked so sweetly, and her face is so palely aging, and she wanted to hold my hand and to talk about her six sons and my seven brothers, and she waits to see us Monday by Monday and to hear our voices.

Doris has watery eyes and thin, dark-grey hair. She seems like she has had a happy life, in the easy way she smiles, in how she thanks us for singing, and requests we sing particular hymns, and in the kindness she shows to Patsy by finding her page in the hymnal every single time. Even brightly-dressed Patsy who watches us sing with her mouth open and no comments after the songs cannot be rude to Doris, and her presence is softened by her quiet, gentle-spirited neighbor. Doris is grace and peace behind a walker. She is joy in the grey moments, joy in the last days.

Doris is one of the people who makes Monday a delight.

Other goodies in my life today: 135-145

135. Extra sleep after the alarm rings

136. A bag of apples in the pantry, another on the counter, another on the floor, and the fruit bowl piled high

137. New socks on cold mornings

138. T. S. Eliot, particularly snippets from Choruses From 'The Rock' (1934) IX and X.

139. A notebook with a clear page, and a pen with a fine nib

140. Freshly made applesauce steaming on the stove, golden lumps and smoothness, faintly breathing cinnamon

141. Pomplamoose and their delightful music (Youtube will acquaint you with them - awesome couple!)

142. Lisa's apple Pan-Dowdy

143. Cheddar cheese in thick slices

144. That my car has a radio

145. Really hot water from the tap.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Giving

"We make a living by what we get; we make a life by what we give."
Sir Winston Churchill

One of my favorite 13 year olds just returned from a week in Florida with her family. They were sent there per her Wish from the Make-A-Wish Foundation which gave them the trip of a lifetime and the memories to last several.

We spent over an hour this morning looking at the pictures captured - the sunshine, the theme parks, water rides and dolphin-feedings, happy faces under hat brims and bare feet in amazing blue water, sweet horses giving rides, carousels, cartoon characters giving hugs, elaborate villas, ice cream shops - and took school this morning very slow and relaxed. She had so much fun. She wants to go back to Florida and stay there - presumably with all the wonderful gifts of the last week continuing into the unforeseeable future.


Grateful for gifts: #123-134

123. Henri Landwirth, founder of Give the Kids the World, and his miraculous life, whose survival of the Holocaust contributed to his desire to bless the kind of children who did not survive things like that.

124. safety through a lot of car and plane travel, and being across the country for a week

125. Renee and Laurie, the ladies here who gave so much time to make this wish come true

126. a week of relaxation away from the daily schedule

127. four days in my own little Valley of Elwy with my family

128. the happy little blid-ip my phone says when a text comes in

129. how warm a laptop feels on a super-cold morning

130. my mom's boxes of food she donates to our little house of girls

131. pasta with homemade cheese sauce

132. fog in the morning

133. sun in the afternoon

134. tea with honey and raw milk