The Goodness, Beauty, and Truth from October 30-November 5, 2022

So much goodness to share this week. Books, spiderwebs (not the Halloween kind), kind and challenging words.

First up, Ann Voskamp's generous post describing time with her mother. "The ways a parent falls short can completely fade in comparison to the ways they’ve loved long. What a parent wasn’t able to give you, can be dwarfed in this present moment, by what they did give."  You can read more here Honoring Your Parents

Tim Keller has a new book: Forgive: Why Should I and How Can I?. I've only browsed through it, but as with his other books of this nature, you will find thorough notes and additional material in the back to help you commit forgiveness to practice. I recommend you pair this with his book Walking with God through Pain and Suffering. I hope to post a review on Forgive after the first of the year.

I recently finished listening to All Creatures Great and Small. These have been my bedtime stories. The kind that tells of ordinary people living ordinary lives.  Seems we all could use more ordinary. I've moved on to All Things Bright and Beautiful. But in between these two books, I listened to Claire Keegan's Small Things Like These. And then bought the book. It was highly recommended by Karen Swallow Prior. This too is a story of ordinary people living ordinary lives who also know of those whose lives are cruel. Set in Ireland at Christmas it is short but poignant. I've struggled with other books to compare it to but it has elements of Dicken's Christmas Carol and perhaps a few more, but I need to re-read it again before I say. I hope to re-read this with a group of friends during Advent. Speaking of which I'm writing a post with Advent resources.  

The weather has been warmer over the last few weeks. Autumn was beautiful this year. The colors were more varied and vibrant than usual. Click on any of the photos for larger views.

The autumn sun's slanted light at sunset is one of the warmest lights of the year, guilding everything it touches.

We live in a small valley where the early morning light doesn't reach us until a little after sunrise. As the sun crests the hill, it lights the trees from their top to trunk. 

We are a bit past the peak color now, but still, the mornings are fresh and glorious. I was surprised, and not a little delighted, to find spiders were still weaving their intricate webs this late in the season. 

Up next week: Advent resources, more Goodness, Truth, and Beauty which I hope includes photos of frost flowers. Curious? Look here.

Samwise

Dear Sam,

It's been two months since our last trip together. In the wee hours before dawn, I settled you into the car's front seat, my faithful wingman, Captain Sammydawg. You, usually butt and tail wagging, always loved running to the car after you saw suitcases by the back door. You would jump into the seat, let me buckle you in, and then look around as if to say, "Where to now?!" This time you were fading.

We started life together on my 50th birthday. I had wanted a beagle for a long time, and the local Humane Society had two. A little girl wanted the other, so by default, you became mine. By default, but not by chance. We came home, and boy, were you excited about being home. You raced around the house and then let me know you considered yourself a lap dog and that I should too. Whenever and wherever I sat, you came slowly creeping onto my lap, first one paw, then another, then your whole self, looking into my eyes with that adoring gaze. I didn't deserve that gaze, but you thought I did.

We had a few of the everyday challenges, but we settled quickly. You were my pet, I was your owner, and life was tied up neatly. I gave you the usual pet care, and you would do cute or not-so-cute dog things.

Then my life caught up with me, beat me, and left me sobbing on the floor. And there you found me, curled yourself around me, sighed deeply, and didn't leave. I realized then, at least to you, we were never pet and owner. I simply belong to you. I was yours to care for. The adoring gaze tried to tell me, but I had been too blind to see.

In the following years, I watched you and saw how mealtimes were always a reason for a party. Warm spring days were meant for surveying your kingdom from the open patio door and then a long nap in the sun. Snow was to be snuffled and tossed. You considered every stranger a friend you hadn't met yet and who desperately needed your affection. Mornings were for snuggling and wrestling, evenings for cuddling on the sofa and snoring softly. Popcorn was for sharing, and you made sure you were never more than a few feet from me for no reason other than wanting to be there.

And no one greeted me home like you. I was told you would stand by the door and whine when I left. And I know that when I came home, you did the same. It always sounded like, "Hurry up and open the door! I've missed you!"

My days now are spent recognizing how you wove our lives together with each moment of every day. In all of this, Samwise, you knew, as your namesake did, that presence is enough, there are joys amid sorrows, and being faithful to the task at hand is one of the greatest gifts we can give one another. And you gave them abundantly. This is how life is well lived.

So as that last trip ended, I laid you in a small grave that holds you. Holds a gentle, kind heart with strength so immense it wrapped all who met you in delight that lifted anyone vulnerable enough to allow it. I am not a theologian, but I am told that God will restore and renew all creation. I'm not ashamed to admit that I hope that includes you, my friend I named Samwise. Until then, rest.

One of my favorites

Step in Time Indeed

It was one of the first movies that I remember watching and with good reason. Music, singing, magic, and oh the dancing. I thoroughly enjoyed this rendition of the most energetic dance in the movie. And the delightful surprise guest appearance...well, see for yourself.

Night to Night Reveals Knowledge

Psalm 19

To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.

The heavens declare the glory of God,
    and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours out speech,
    and night to night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words,
    whose voice is not heard.
Their voice goes out through all the earth,
    and their words to the end of the world.
In them he has set a tent for the sun,
    which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber,
    and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy.
Its rising is from the end of the heavens,
    and its circuit to the end of them,
    and there is nothing hidden from its heat.

The law of the Lord is perfect,
    reviving the soul;
the testimony of the Lord is sure,
    making wise the simple;
the precepts of the Lord are right,
    rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the Lord is pure,
    enlightening the eyes;
the fear of the Lord is clean,
    enduring forever;
the rules of the Lord are true,
    and righteous altogether.
More to be desired are they than gold,
    even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
    and drippings of the honeycomb.
Moreover, by them is your servant warned;
    in keeping them there is great reward.

Who can discern his errors?
    Declare me innocent from hidden faults.
Keep back your servant also from presumptuous sins;
    let them not have dominion over me!
Then I shall be blameless,
    and innocent of great transgression.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
    be acceptable in your sight,
    O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

English Standard Version (ESV) The Holy Bible, English Standard Version Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

Autumn trees

"Autumn trees ask me not to worry.  They, like Jesus, suggest trust rather than worry.  So often in autumn I want to go lean my head against a tree and ask what it feels like to lose so much, to be so empty, so detached,...and then simply to stand and wait for God's refilling....It isn't easy.  But it's possible."  -Macrina Wiederkehr

In the fall at the base of the stem of the leaf, the abscission layer begins to close off. This is what enables the colors of the leaf to begin to show and how the tree protects itself from sap loss during the winter when light and water are in shorter supply and external conditions are harsher. But that is not all that is happening. A new leaf in the form of a terminal bud enclosed in scales develops.  It's fall's promise of new life in the spring. And in the spring those scales fall off ... leaving scars...but the new leaf was protected and it does grow. You've had to go through a harsh season of life, but God will remove the scales and redeem this season and cause you to flourish.

HT: Melissa, who shared the quote above and allows us to see her struggle and wait with her.

A Dying Art

While I haven't finished something handmade for some time now, this video, and the idea behind it encourages me to make the time.

Lacemaking in Lefkara, Cyprus from Etsy on Vimeo.

Cello

I love to hear the cello played and this video lets me see as well.

Tolkien, Fairy Story, and the Gospel

‎"I would venture to say that approaching the Christian Story from this direction, it has long been my feeling (a joyous feeling) that God redeemed the corrupt making-creatures, men, in a way fitting to this aspect, as to others, of their strange nature. The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels—peculiarly artistic, beautiful, and moving: “mythical” in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe. But this story has entered History and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of Creation. The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man's history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy. It has pre-eminently the “inner consistency of reality.” There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and none which so many sceptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. To reject it leads either to sadness or to wrath." 

~JRR Tolkien

Summer 2010

A very good summer

Concert in the Garden

Every summer, the Missouri Botanical Garden hosts free jazz concerts on Wednesday nights. What it turns into is a picnic on steroids. Half of St. Louis usually shows up toting coolers, blankets, picnic baskets, portable tables, portable cribs, take-out, gourmet food and everything else except the kitchen sink. Now there are some who actually want to listen to the music and those die-hards get there early and get a spot close enough to do so. Some of us get there when we can and enjoy the music in the background as we enjoy our picnic. Most are spread out over the entire grounds and are simply enjoying a beautiful part of our city surrounded by loved ones. More photos here.

Shakespeare in the Park

Every summer for one month an area of the park is tranformed into an outdoor amphitheater for St. Louis Shakespeare in the Park's production. This year's production was The Merry Wives of Windsor. Sorry no photos of the production due to copyright laws but I did get some photos of the park, which due to the cooler spring temps and abundant rainfall is beautiful this year. Some of you have seen these photos on Facebook, but I'm posting them here in a larger format. Click on each photo to see a larger version. Enjoy!!!

Twilight Reverie

Here is Grace's piece from last night's recital. Hope you enjoy it as much as we did.

Simple beauty

A few new entries are in the works, but I wanted to share a wonderful site that I read about in this month's Victoria magazine. Sharyn Sowell's papercuttings are delicate vignettes of simple beauty that she obviously understands well and explains well:
"There are only two ways of looking at the world." said Thomas Edison. "One as though nothing is a miracle, the other as though everything is." And I choose the latter.
Every day I am surrounded by miracles that keep me in awe. My inspirations are the commonplace things we often walk by without even seeing....
Violets peeking out from a weedy patch in the neighbor's driveway; dandelions in my lawn. My husband dressed up as Santa for a group of children who gasp at the unexpected gifts. Warm mittens. Autumn leaves drifting like so much gold and red confetti. Wind in your hair. Kisses. The smell of chocolate cake or chicken noodle soup. Foxgloves, English daisies, sweet peas, or any other flower in my own little patch of earth.
My work is a celebration of those everyday miracles. I'll never reach the end of my ideas because my inspirations are the things that surround each and every one of us all our lives.
I need not travel to exotic lands for inspiration because I am tickled pink at the wonders right in my own backyard--and yours.
Whether your talent is making a mighty fine muffin or singing an aria, let me encourage you to use your gifts to the maximum, spread the joy, and open your eyes to the delights of your own little corner of the world. Even a common little weed can be inspiration for something wonderful. "

Also take a minute to read her blog; she shares with us the daily beauty she enjoys.