Happy Reformation Day!

a season of election

Not that one,
this one.
Not that it matters, as Matt points out. Someone will eventually have to make a decision.
I remember back in the bad old days we used all wait and long for a saving word from Lambeth Palace, we used to sit in bed late at night and parse every turn of the head and eyebrow move and have hope. Ah, the innocence and stupidity of youth. Of course now we know that if someone suitable were picked, God's strength and sanity wouldn't have an opportunity to be made perfect.

And on that note, I am going to stop reading the internet and do something else. Cheerio!

please pray

If you have a chance to pray for my friend  Lauren who blogs at Sparkling Adventures I'd be so grateful.
I've had her linked on the side for many years now.

She lost her baby, Elijah, this weekend and it seems that her husband, David, is under suspicion.

Please pray for Lauren and her girls and her family as they struggle to discover what happened and grieve the loss of their precious baby.

hee hee

David Mitchell is doing soap boxes again! And since practically everybody at Good Shepherd stood in front of the vast array of coffee hour celebratory Anglican cake yesterday and 1. knew they shouldn't eat it and 2. had been told not to fast by the preacher, I thought this really would cheer them all this fine Monday morning. Except, don't believe him! heheeeee

Happy Mother's Day

I hope you'll are bustling about getting ready to honor your mothers in a serious and heartfelt way through the weekend. I, of course, am deeply grateful to my own mother for being willing to have me. And to Matt's for being willing to have him.

And so, to show my deep appreciation and love, here is a little weekend present. Happy Mother's Day!

a little global cooling

So it seems we're in store for a mini ice age. I can't tell you want incredible disappointment this is to me.
This, in particularly, sounds ghastly,

Meanwhile, leading climate scientists yesterday told The Mail on Sunday that, after emitting unusually high levels of energy throughout the 20th Century, the sun is now heading towards a ‘grand minimum’ in its output, threatening cold summers, bitter winters and a shortening of the season available for growing food.

I've never really understood the panic about global warming. When has the earth's temperature ever been static? We have evidence that its gone way up and way down over millenia (she says blithely, not lifting a finger to source this interesting assertion--hardy har har). But of course, we like what we know, and we can't imagine how we'll cope if things change.

for your reading pleasure

The house is awash in toys and puzzle pieces, the laundry is piled up, the cool remote control helicopter doesn't work, so I've retreated to the internet for some sanity.

Mark Steyn, as usual, is brilliant.

And on a similar subject, here's Tim Challies. I would add to his interesting and astute cultural observation that this same principle is very much at work in All the clothes women are expected to wear today. Fashions of the past were generous and suited to the motherly life giving figure. It was possible to give birth to children and wear clothes afterwards that were flattering and suited to the physical impact pregnancy and childbirth have on the human body. Now the expectation is to return to the clothes and body of yourself before children. I am constantly struggling to return to myself Before children so that I can wear clothes--any clothes and also clothes that might be lovely and make me look like a normal person. And by normal, we all know that means a young (not aged in any way) rail thin woman who hasn't had six children. And so far I've swam in that pool unthoughtfully. But I read this post recently and found it to be really helpful.

Anyway, its the second day of Christmas, I'm going to go put my fat pants on and eat another piece of white bread. Happy cultural criticism!

a little gift to you

for a saturday evening

monday morning haze

I've caught a cold and am stumbling around dimly and wretchedly, trying to remember my own name and stuff like that. So, here's some other stuff from the internets and webs.

A really lovely article about Good Shepherd and how lovely we are by a really lovely person.

The competition is closed and the thread sort of got weird at the end, but over the weekend Matt hosted a little competition at SF. This was my favorite entry (comment #40 as you read down the thread).

Pondue, pondue, pondue, por-de-bra, jete, jete, jete, pirouette. Grand batement, arabesque, changement changement changement. *
*My offering is the final thought in a sermon presented entirely in liturgical dance. 

And this on the subject of the Episcopal Church. CRAZY!!! Wow. (Totally off topic, but MCJ calls people "Big Smacker" so much that its gotten stuck in my head and it is now my preferred method of speaking to my children. "Come here, Big Smacker," I crooned to my infant in the nursery at church yesterday, to the horror of another mother trying to drop off a child. Maybe That should be the baby's blog name!?)

Not being Catholic, I don't agree with everything, but this at Live Mother Like Daughter is really helpful and lovely on the subject of prayer and children. Also, I didn't find the link, but you should search and find her post on how to take a shower.

And while we're on the subject of prayer, Jessica is always good.

Simcha on why its a bad idea to have your children help you. I, by the way, agree with EVERYTHING she says on this subject, and that's why I'm such a screamer.

Doug Wilson takes on Easter Orthodoxy. All I have to say is, hee hee hee.

Alright, I'm going to take my cloudy mind and my Big Smacker and go work on the laundry. Have a Lovely Day.

For a Saturday Evening

Alouicious' favorite hymn. We love watching this, but we sing the Vaughan Williams setting.

And Elphine's favorite.

A Woman's, and probably a Man's, Work is Never Done

Putting off the two giant remaining tasks of the week--sorting through a vast pile of clothes on the floor of my bedroom, and making all this dough into bread. Feel like I've spun my wheels all week and accomplished nothing, although, that is probably not the case. I did do something, just don't remember what it was.

Have been mulling over the whole concept of work all week after this most excellent sermon by Matt. I mean, I know we were designed and created to work but it was nice to be reminded of the root cause of all my futility. So much of my well worn hours are spent doing the same number of tasks over and over and over again only to have to do them again. Feeding, cleaning, feeding again, cleaning, feeding, making food, feeding, cleaning, dropping into bed. Nothing lasts--the food doesn't last, the flowers don't last, the clean doesn't last, the money certainly doesn't. So very very few things are things that we do one time only for complete lasting satisfaction and joy.

Like when I got married--one time, to my complete satisfaction and joy. Watched the video last week and was, for the first time, really grateful that I don't have to do that every day. It was so pretty. Everything went divinely. Had a true look of sincerity and love on my face for fully ten minutes before the sarcasm set back in (you can see it on the video, five minutes into communion when I start mentally making fun of the groomsmen). But in no way do I miss repeating the tasks of that day over and over and over again. Once, for all, as they say about Jesus. It was monumentous to carry over the whole rest of the road of our lives, for me and Matt anyway.

But of course, the circling nature of work, the doing things over and over and over, is what makes life grounded and familiar and real. Its not that we make progress towards anything but that we do those things which we ought to do, however many times they need to be done, and it is God who redeems them and gathers them into something lasting and eternal.

Which is why the work is punctuated with rest. Because if we don't pause for a few minutes we might spin off the road into true futility.

So here is my prayer for the weekend.
From Whittier and after it the only clip I could find that wasn't completely foul.

Dear Lord and Father of mankind,

Forgive our foolish ways!

Reclothe us in our rightful mind,

In purer lives Thy service find,

In deeper reverence, praise.

In simple trust like theirs who heard

Beside the Syrian sea

The gracious calling of the Lord,

Let us, like them, without a word

Rise up and follow Thee.

O Sabbath rest by Galilee!

O calm of hills above,

Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee

The silence of eternity

Interpreted by love!

With that deep hush subduing all

Our words and works that drown

The tender whisper of Thy call,

As noiseless let Thy blessing fall

As fell Thy manna down.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,

Till all our strivings cease;

Take from our souls the strain and stress,

And let our ordered lives confess

The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire

Thy coolness and Thy balm;

Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;

Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,

O still, small voice of calm!

Birth Story Haikus

I don't actually have time to write any (maybe later) but what A BRILLIANT Idea.

I happened to read snips of someone else's ghastly birth story to Matt a few weeks back and enlighten him as to the whole genre of blogging internet insanity.

"Are you serious?" He asked whispered in horror.
"Oh yeah," I said, "after you give birth you have about six months, although you can push it out to a year if you're really behind, to write a detailed account of everything that occurred in the course of giving birth, including but not limited to, the progress of labor, how contractions feel and are measured, how much kohosh your drink, your emotional and spiritual state, what kinds of things you say, how long you have to push..."
"STOP" he shouted, "too much information."

His suggestion after hearing the following line (which I won't link because I don't want to be mean)

For the first time in my militant homebirther’s life, I understood the draw of medicalized birth. ... Rounding the birth tub in the morning light, I vowed to be more compassionate towards women who give birth differently.

was that I ought, indeed he tried to command me, to write out my own birth story, moaning and bewailing the delicate prick of the blessed epidural needle, the joy and laughter of giving birth with no feeling at all, the vague discomfort of the blood pressure cup, the stale taste of the tea, the ridiculous size of the baby, however it got there, blah blah blah. But I think haikus are better.

for your compline praying

This Fisk Wasn't for Me but I'm taking it anyway

One Phyllis Strupp, of whom I have never before heard, thinks that Father, and by that I presume she means God, doesn't always know best. Father, by whom we assume she means God (I'm kidding, I know she doesn't mean God, I'm  just messing with her), needs the Holy Spirit, whom it's clear she assumes is "female" to get it right.

Jesus was loud and clear on this point: God has both masculine, left-brained qualities in God the father as well as feminine, right-brained qualities in God the Holy Spirit.

And then there's this

Is the idolatry of male power in a patriarchal society preventing us from seeing the Trinity more clearly -- and receiving the wisdom and aid of the Holy Spirit? Do we grieve the Holy Spirit, as Paul warned us not to do in Ephesians 4:30-31:

And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.

Is that right? Men are filled with all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice? Whereas "the ladies" are not?

Father doesn't always know best. Sometimes he does, and sometimes he doesn't. He's only human, after all. Sometimes mother knows best. No one person is the only source of grace in a family, congregation, diocese, business, or society -- and no one person should shoulder all the blame for failures. Let's give father a break and put our heads (left brains and right brains) together and find new ways to welcome the Holy Spirit and satisfy the spiritual hunger of our times!

To which I reply
Phyllis, Know Your Limits!

Whine

Why isn't there a hue and a cry (backed up with money from some rich underground lair dweller) for Anglican Women and Mothers to get together for a blogging conference so that we could all meet each other face to face? The Catholics do it all the time. Tisn't fair.

We could meet near some lovely gorgeous beach with a beautiful chapel and pray the hours and eat beautiful food and hear talks from each other (or anyone we might choose to invite).

Jessica could lead Writing and Exercise Workshops.

Kerry could do something on homeschooling and the church year. (Blog Kerri! Blog!)

Jeanne could tell us about how to balance church and family and older children.

Annie could talk about homeschooling, missison, and gardening.

I will sit in the cool shade listening and eating bon bons. What fabulous Anglican Women do you want to hear from or meet?

Because it just can't be passed up

I expect you're settling in to enjoy a quiet Friday evening and were casting about for just a little something to take your evening to the next level. Here is my gift to you.

for Good Friday

Matt's Sermon from Sunday

Matt's sermon was so helpful to me this week. I thought I'd share it with you.

Saturday on the links

I've succumbed to some kind of nasty cold and can't talk very well, for which I'm pretty sure all the children are delighted. Some of them keep coming and sitting very close to me and gazing rapturously into my fog filled running eyes. I don't know what they have to be insecure about. Just because we had something every night this week and haven't in any fashion carried on with our normal routine--honestly.

Actually, without forethought, we came to the end of the week and found it had been almost as bad as Holy Week (the standard of exhaustion by which all other moments of exhaustion are judged).

Anyway, so I woke up in the middle of the night and seriously gave some thought to entering MCJ's competition for Next Top Episcopal Bishop, and later took comfort in Simcha's furnace troubles (I'm probably not as busy as her!), and then later I used Jen's Saints Name Generator to pick a patron Saint for the year. I got St. Martha (Feast Day July 29) whose domain includes laundry workers, servants, housekeepers and cooks. Nothing, actually, could be more pertinent to my current station in life.

Have a great weekend!