Anam Cara

Hope...

Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down,
       that the mountains would tremble before you!

As when fire sets twigs ablaze
       and causes water to boil,
       come down to make your name known to your enemies
       and cause the nations to quake before you!

For when you did awesome things that we did not expect,
       you came down, and the mountains trembled before you.

Since ancient times no one has heard,
       no ear has perceived,
       no eye has seen any God besides you,
       who acts on behalf of those who wait for him.

You come to the help of those who gladly do right,
       who remember your ways.
       But when we continued to sin against them,
       you were angry.
       How then can we be saved?

 All of us have become like one who is unclean,
       and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags;
       we all shrivel up like a leaf,
       and like the wind our sins sweep us away.

 No one calls on your name
       or strives to lay hold of you;
       for you have hidden your face from us
       and made us waste away because of our sins.

 Yet, O LORD, you are our Father.
       We are the clay, you are the potter;
       we are all the work of your hand.

 Do not be angry beyond measure, O LORD;
       do not remember our sins forever.
       Oh, look upon us, we pray,
       for we are all your people.

~Isaiah 64 1-9

 "But in those days, following that distress,
   " 'the sun will be darkened,
      and the moon will not give its light;
      the stars will fall from the sky,
      and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.'

"At that time men will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with
great power and glory.  And he will send his angels and gather his
elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the
ends of the heavens.

"Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get
tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. 
Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that it is
near, right at the door.  I tell you the truth, this generation will
certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. 
Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.

"No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven,
nor the Son, but only the Father.  Be on guard! Be alert!  You do not
know when that time will come.  It's like a man going away: He leaves
his house and puts his servants in charge, each with his assigned task,
and tells the one at the door to keep watch.

"Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of
the house will come back—whether in the evening, or at midnight, or
when the rooster crows, or at dawn.  If he comes suddenly, do not
let him find you sleeping.  What I say to you, I say to everyone:
'Watch!' "

~Mark 13:24-37

"O God of Hope, Emmanuel, God With Us...we pray you to send your
light into our hearts at this time.  Help us to be ready for the day
and the hour of Christ's final appearing.  Live in us and help us to
live in you.  By the power of the Holy Spirit, transform us so that
our worship, our celebration, our time of preparation, may be
pleasing to you, both now, and forever more.  Amen"

A Gift of Gorgeous...

...to You from Me.  Iron and Wine, Boy With a Coin. 


Thx Kels.

A Rose, by Any Other Name...

When we moved into our house in May, I resolved to leave the garden largely untouched for the summer.  I wanted to live with it...to watch the sun move across it...to see where water gathers, and where things get dry.  I wanted time to dream and to imagine.  I planted herbs:  Lavender (an absolute necessity), Rosemary, Sage, Silver Thyme, Greek Oregano, Mint (I actually brought this with me in a pot; too aggressive to plant in the ground), Cilantro, and lots and lots of Basil.  I replaced a couple of personality-less foundation plants with Hydrangeas, Nepeta, Veronica, and Russian Sage.  I planted a variegated Japanese Maple in the corner just off our patio.  I filled pots with colorful annuals and ivy.  I pruned and cleaned and mulched.  And I waited... 

A vision has been formulating itself in my head now for several weeks.  A key component in the plan is roses.  I ADORE roses.  If you have lived with me long, you are probably aware of this.  So, Mike has graciously conceded to buy me roses for Christmas.  I have actually been browsing varieties and making a list with photos and particulars for a couple of months.  I spent the whole morning yesterday formulating my final wish list and determining the placement of each.  I thought I would share them with you.  All are English roses.  Hybridized by David Austin, they have the form and fragrance of heirloom roses with the hardiness and repeat bloom of more modern roses.  The best of both worlds.  I will schedule delivery for late February.  They will arrive bare-root and dormant.  Then the fun will begin.  I will bring you along.  Until then, sit by the fire with me and dream of spring...

 

The two roses at the top of the post are called Mortimer Sackler and Othello.  Both are tall and vigorous.  Each is to be given a place in front of one of the walls that corner to create the garden just off our patio.  There will be plenty of room for them to spread out and produce blossom after blossom for cutting and bringing indoors.  The two varieties just above are William Shakespeare 2000 and L.D. Braithwaite.  They will flank the steps leading from the patio up onto the porch.  At their full height of 4 feet, they will rise a full foot above the porch.  This means they will be visible from my breakfast table.  Delightful.

 

Mary Magdalene and Cottage Rose, along with Noble Antony (deep pink, not pictured), round out the list.  All seven varieties are intensely fragrant, and all seven will wrap around our side porch/patio area providing us with summer evenings laden with ethereal essence.  You can be sure that we will throw open the doors to allow the aroma to invade the house as well. 

Intoxicated with anticipation...

Ghosts of Christmas Past...

My family is asleep.  I sit alone with our Christmas tree...just the tree lights on, the scent of evergreen heavy in the air and Christmas music filling my ears.  My mind has been racing over Christmases past, especially to the years when I was a little girl.  What is it about Christmas that makes me 8 years old again?  I was a child of the country.  Mine were small town Christmases with traditions as old as the hills I grew up in.  So very different from the world I know today.  Frozen in time somehow.  And preserved in my mind as if they were yesterday.

Over the river and through the Woods...  A cedar tree...always...large colored lights, a long thick stick of peppermint candy she would break for us by expertly striking it with her butcher knife, creamy peanut butter candy that she would make days ahead and put in the back bedroom to keep it cool, and ham.  This was Christmas with Grandma Howard.  All five of her children would bring their families home.  Cousins, drawing names, laughter. 

O Come all ye Faithful...  Velvet dresses with ribbons, thick tights, and black Mary Janes...little verses to recite for the Christmas program...baby doll Jesus, bath robe wise men, tinsel halos, and hay in church...treat bags with oranges and apples, nuts, and chewy orange candy...songs we only sang at Christmas like Beautiful Star of Bethlehem...the smell of an evergreen tree mixed with all those oranges...bundling up in coats and gloves when it was time to leave the glow and the warmth to face the cold...this was Christmas in my little country church.

Quest...  The luxury of extensive family land afforded us the adventure of apprehending a Christmas tree from the wild.  This is probably one of my favorite Christmas memories.  The whole family (sometimes extended family as well) would traipse through the woods on a splendid odyssey.  We kids always ran ahead, determined to be the first to spot "the perfect tree".  I was able to give my children this experience when we moved out to the country.   We chose one of the hundreds of cedars that grew on our property.  I will remember it always.

O Tannenbaum...  My dad always did the lights.  Then there was garland.  All the while, we kids were bursting to get our hands on the tree.  Ornaments were applied in a mad dash, all except the bells.  My mom and dad bought four glass bells for their first Christmas tree.  They might have been the closest thing we had to family heirlooms.  My mom was terribly attached to those bells.  Somewhere along the way, one had been broken.  I do not remember how.  So, each year, in quite decorous ceremony, my mother would place those three precious bells in their places.  I remember a breathless reverence for the whole process.  Perhaps this is where I learned that sometimes a whole experience can be rolled inside a memento.  And that sometimes it's possible, for a breath, to travel through the keepsake to that moment.  The finishing touch was silver tinsel icicles.  Every year my brother and I advanced the idea of tossing a handful of these into the air and letting them find their own place on the tree.  My mother was not amused by this.  My mother was an icicle Nazi.  One icicle at a time, carefully draped over the end of a limb with equal amounts of overhang on each side.  Just so.  Because she loved us more than her icicles, she never had the perfectly draped tree until we left home. 

Tis more blessed to give...  My mom and dad played Santa for us until I brought my husband home for Christmas.  I can not even type the words without getting a flutter in my stomach.  I never slept past 4 a.m. on Christmas morning.  But, we were not allowed to wake mom and dad until 7.  So, my brothers and I logged hours of Christmas morning conversation...calling from one bedroom to the other...while anxiously watching the clock.  I still have vivid recollections of some of those gifts.  I see them with the scent of evergreen and citrus and warm tinsel coloring their edges.  A baby doll with wonderously soft skin who came complete with baby powder, lotion, diapers, clothes, and those cool baby bottles in which all the liquid vanished, only to return when inverted.  Magic.  A set of Cambell's soup dishes.  I do not know exactly how many superb meals were served in them, but I know they fed far more than my physical hunger.  And, my Huffy trail bike.  I should tell you that I was infuriated by this gift.  My BROTHER had asked for a bike.  He got one.  Super!  BUT, what was I doing with one too?  I did NOT ask for one.  Sometimes parents actually do know more about their kids than they know about themselves.  Over the next few years, I would ride literally thousands of miles on that bike with my brothers and cousins. 

Do You Hear What I Hear?  My parents had several Christmas albums, but only two counted.  One was Perry Como.  I actually like his soothing voice, but mostly I liked his telling of The Night Before Christmas and that song about spelling Christmas (C is for the Christchild, born upon this day....).  The other was The Chipmunks Christmas album.  We listened to it OVER and OVER.  I actually bought it on cassette for my brother a few years back.  I suppose it's time to re-buy on CD.  I loved the funny sound of their voices, their wild antics and how Alvin was always getting in trouble.  Grade School humor.  :~)

Thank you, Jesus, for sharing your birthday with me.  Thanks for the wonder and magic of Christmas.  Thank you for giving me the capacity and the senses with which to receive it.  My it eternally be so.

Thanks....

 

Psalm 136

 1 Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good.
       His love endures forever.

 2 Give thanks to the God of gods.
       His love endures forever.

 3 Give thanks to the Lord of lords:
       His love endures forever.

 4 to him who alone does great wonders,
       His love endures forever.

 5 who by his understanding made the heavens,
       His love endures forever.

 6 who spread out the earth upon the waters,
       His love endures forever.

 7 who made the great lights—
       His love endures forever.

 8 the sun to govern the day,
       His love endures forever.

 9 the moon and stars to govern the night;
       His love endures forever.

 10 to him who struck down the firstborn of Egypt
       His love endures forever.

 11 and brought Israel out from among them
       His love endures forever.

 12 with a mighty hand and outstretched arm;
       His love endures forever.

 13 to him who divided the Red Sea ^[a] asunder
       His love endures forever.

 14 and brought Israel through the midst of it,
       His love endures forever.

 15 but swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea;
       His love endures forever.

 16 to him who led his people through the desert,
       His love endures forever.

 17 who struck down great kings,
       His love endures forever.

 18 and killed mighty kings—
       His love endures forever.

 19 Sihon king of the Amorites
       His love endures forever.

 20 and Og king of Bashan—
       His love endures forever.

 21 and gave their land as an inheritance,
       His love endures forever.

 22 an inheritance to his servant Israel;
       His love endures forever.

 23 to the One who remembered us in our low estate
       His love endures forever.

 24 and freed us from our enemies,
       His love endures forever.

 25 and who gives food to every creature.
       His love endures forever.

 26 Give thanks to the God of heaven.
       His love endures forever.

Lessons from The Blue Zones....

In a beautiful bit of serendipity, I the chronic television avoider, happened to be at the gym this afternoon when Dan Buettner was on The Oprah Winfrey Show discussing his new book, Blue Zones.  It was SO good I actually turned off Dostoevsky to read the subtitles.  Blue Zones, as Buettner defines them, are regions of the world where people live long, vital lives.  A 94 year old Heart surgeon who is still operating in Loma Linda, California and a 102 year old Sardinian shepherd who still takes his goats out to pasture every day were among those featured on the show.  Buettner has attempted to identify some of the characteristices common to the people who live in these zones that seem most impactful to their longevity and robust health.

As I have been reading Marlena de Blasi's books about life in Tuscany, she has mused about what it is that makes people in those communities live so long AND so well.  I think that is key.  Who wants to live to be old and miserable??  There are a great many factors in our lives over which we have absolutely no control.  But, we can choose what we put into our bodies.  We can choose to be active.  We can choose to build healthy relationships with others.

Some of the factors discussed in the show included:

*Exercise.  This was one factor common to EVERY single Blue Zone.  Some form of activity (in most cases ordinary activity like gardening or shepherding) every day was a key component of ALL those studied.
*Wine, particularly Sardinian wine (especially high in antioxidants), one to two glasses EVERY day. 
*A plant based diet.  Meat should be a garnish, a side, an adornment, not the feature.
*Rest.  Frequently a daily practice of either meditation or siesta, but the idea of Sabbath was also important.  A day of respite.  A time to rejuvenate.  Essential.
*Friends.  The doctors who had conducted the research continually stressed that part of every nutritional piece was the idea of gathering with friends...of commemoration...of reflection...of quiet and peace and accord.
*Goat Cheese.  Yep, you heard me right.  Apparently the proteins are easier to break down.  Also, there is a treasure trove of nutrients hidden inside every delectable bite. 

I am intrigued by the book.  I will probably have to read it.  But, in the meantime, you and I can get amazing information from the Blue Zone website.  Read the Blue Zones top ten for tv (hinted at above), five ways to Blue Zone your Thanksgiving, the relationship of purpose and longevity, and much, much more.

Long life and Great Joy to you all!

Because of Jake....

Fifteen years ago today I gave birth to my first son...and so began a wonderful
romance.  My life has been decidedly different because Jake has been a part
of it. On Friday, my friend Jen gave birth to her first son.   It has prompted me to
reflect upon what it has meant to have this remarkable young man in my life.  So,
if you will indulge me...

Having Jake in my life has meant...

...a thousand million hugs.  Jake is one of the most affectionate people I know. 
He has brought tremendous joy to so many by his uninhibited displays of
affection.  I doubt he will ever know how very significant that has been.

...ART.  When Jake was a very little boy, I knew something was different about
him.  Usually when little children color, they fill a page with large gestures of
color using the whole arm.  Jake always made little Cezanne-like squares of
color.  By the time he was three, his Sunday School teachers (and sometimes
total strangers) were commenting on his drawings.  They were incredible. 
Dragons and superheroes were his preferred subjects, rendered in astonishing
detail.  One year, when he was 8 or 9 years old, he forgot to pack his drawing
supplies for a vacation.  On the drive home, he was shaking like an addict as he
said to me, "Mommy, I can't wait to get home so I can draw."  Some of my favorite
memories of Jake are from visits to art museums.  I could hardly look at the pieces
for looking at him.  He becomes completely lost in the art.  He interacts with the
works as though they are alive.  For him, I suppose, they are.  These days, his art
takes different forms (body art, drawings of friends, hair, clothing...), but it
remains an essential part of who he is.  As he looks toward the future, art is always
part of the consideration.   I can hardly wait to see what God intends to do with him.

...music.  Children's choir, recordings (both audio and video), piano, saxophone... 
Now he is writing his own songs.  When he was little, Kelsey and I (who have a
disease that causes us to remember every song we ever hear word for word)
laughed at him because he had inherited his dad's tendency to make up words in
songs and not even realize they were made up.  No more.  He is devoted to his
favorite artists and can reproduce with complete accuracy.  He has a wonderful
ear for harmony.  It is great fun to sing in the car with him. 

...books.  Homeschooling afforded us a wonderful luxury of time to read.  Jake,
Kelsey and I would curl up on the couch, or on the front porch, and spend a whole
morning (or afternoon) in a book. We have enjoyed magnificent voyages through
time and space.   I would reach the end of a chapter, and they would unanimously
cry "just one more chapter!"  Jake was an early reader, and was knocking back
500 page Redwall books by the time he was in fourth grade.  Video games and
activities with friends have taken some of the time that used to belong to reading,
but he spent the four hour drive home last night lost in Brisingr, the third book in
the Inheritance series by Christopher Paolini.

...encouragement.  Jake sees things.  When he eats a lovely meal, he realizes
someone has devoted a great deal of creativity and effort to its creation.  He will
find that person and make sure they know how much he appreciates it.  A new
haircut, a well sung song, a good story, a kind dead...he misses nothing.  And,
he is compelled to speak it...words of blessing...words of value...words of life. 
I have been the lucky recipient of many of those kind words. 

...curiosity.  Jake loves to try new things.  He has always enjoyed creative and
interesting food.  It is a joy to eat with him and to cook for him.  And now, I get
to cook with him which may very well be my favorite.  Traveling with Jake is a
delight.  He embraces each part of the experience.  From navigating Paris
Metro maps, to climbing the rocks in the harbor at Vernazza, to descending
inside the Grand Canyon, to screaming his lungs out on the Aerosmith Rock
n Roller Coaster, life is one adventure after another.  We are already dreaming
of where we want to go next...

...ideas.  I have tried to imagine what it would be like to be inside Jake's head. 
Cacophony.  Sometimes, he tells me about inventions or dreams that are
circulating through his head.  He can hardly get the words out fast enough. 
And, the plans are fully articulated and developed to a high degree of
sophistication.  I confess that sometimes I am using all my powers of
concentration to follow him.  And, he has totally outstripped my knowledge of
quantum physics.  He is brilliant!  And that's the truth. 

...love.  Sometimes...rarely...Jake gets frustrated and is unkind.  He has
made decisions that he regrets.  But, I have never known anyone of whom
I could say that his intentions are always good.  I can say that about Jake. 
I believe that every day he wants the best for those he loves.  I have seen
him forgive.  I have seen him be generous.  I have seen him take the first
step when healing is needed.  Jake loves extravagantly.  It is impossible to
know him and not know love.  Ask his friends.  They will tell you it's true.

So thanks Jake.  Thanks to the wiggly little bundle of blue eyes and blonde
hair that burst into my life on the day before Thanksgiving fifteen years ago. 
Thanks to the little boy who played in the creek, and explored every inch of
our farm, and took such good care of our dogs.  Thanks for books, and art,
and music, and hugs.  Thanks for telling me about inventions I don't even
understand.  Thanks for choosing to believe the best about everyone and for
loving generously.  Thanks for cooking and traveling and riding bikes with me. 
Thanks for making me smile.  Thank you.  Thank YOU.  THANK YOU for being
my son. 

Happy Birthday.

I love you!  

Today.

Every Day.

Always.

Mom.

Gatlinburg Afternoon...

 

 

A Few of my Favorite Things...

...about my precious daughter...

...the way she sees people nobody else sees...the
hurting, the lonely, the lost.
...the way she loves to give gifts, making choices
that reflect her insight into the character and
the passions of the receiver.
...the way she lives life full on...laughing, loving,
trying new things.
...the photographs...Wow!!...the beauty she sees in
ordinary things and the way she knows how to
capture it...the way she shows me things I would
never see on my own.
...her audacious, creative, fun, gorgeous fashion
sense...the hair, the clothes, the jewelry...
...hearing her sing...quietly, almost without thinking,
when she is happy...with all her heart when she loves
the song....loud and silly just to be funny.
...her blue eyes, especially when they are full of joy.
...her love of classic films, especially those by Alfred
Hitchcock or starring Audrey Hepburn.
...her willingness to ask tough questions and wrestle
with important issues until she knows what SHE
believes to be true.
...her collections, including but not limited to: Pez
dispensers, DVD's (especially anything with Johnny
Depp, Adam Sandler, Jim Carrey, Hitchcock and
Hepburn), all things Batman, flair buttons, music,
Ellen Hopkins books, friends...
...her ability to figure out anything techy (and most
especially her willingness to help me).
...her crazy mad Cappuccino making skills.



Happy Birthday, Dearest!  I am honored to be
your mother.

Birthday Marathon Begins...

My oldest two children were born two years and two days apart.  Both of them have
birthdays during that week that houses Thanksgiving.  So, birthday/Thanksgiving is
always a little crazy at our house.  Kelsey will be 17 tomorrow, and Jake will be 15 on
Monday.  The celebrations have officially begun.  Mellow Mushroom last night with
Mike's Family, and cake and ice cream after at Nana and Papa's.  Kelsey, Jake and I
are joined above by cousins Keeli and Ellie.

At Mellow Mushroom.  Pictured: Ray, Lori, Ellie, Nana, Joshua, and
David at the near table, Kelsey, Jake, Alex and Papa at far table.

Kelsey and Keeli enjoying Kelsey's gift.

Ahh, Yeah.  That makes me happy!

Anticipation.....

Bitter as Hate and Scant as True Love...

"It was [Athena] who, posturing with Poseidon for dominion, sprung the first
olive tree from the stones of the Acropolis, proclaiming it the fruit of civility. 
A fruit like no other.  She said the flesh of an olive was as bitter as hate and
scant as true love, that it asked work to soften it, to squeeze the golden-
green blood from it.  The olive was like life and that the fight for it made
its oil sacred, that it would soothe and feed a man from birth until death. 
And the goddess's oil became elixir.  Soft, slow drops of it nourished ewe's
milk cheese, a ladle of it strengthened wild onions stewed over a twig fire. 
Burned in a clay lamp, oil illuminated the night and warmed in the hands of a
healer, it caressed the skin of a tired man and a birthing woman.  Even now,
when a baby is born in the Tuscan hills, he is washed in olive oil, modest doses
burnished into every crease and crevice of him.  On his deathbed, a man is
anointed with the same oil, cleansing him in yet another way.  And after he dies,
a candle is lit and oil is warmed and kneaded over him, a farewell bath--the oil
having accompanied him on all his journeys, just as Athena had promised."

~Marlena De Blasi from A Thousand Days in Tuscany  

The Indescribable...Described

If you know me, you knew I would have to try.  For anything to be real, it has to have words.  It has to have a name.  And even if the words are inadequate, as they often are, they bring me to the place where I can look beyond them to see the truth.  So, here follows an attempt to capture a few impressions from my first marathon.  It is lengthy.  Even so, it leaves so much unsaid.  But I needed to write it.  You may decide whether or not you need to read it.  :~)

I stepped out of my warm hotel into the pre-dawn darkness.  It was difficult to know whether the shivering was from cold or from anticipation.  We queued up with 500 or so others at the shuttle stop around the corner and began a series of good-natured conversations about marathons and half-marathons past; the good, the bad and the ugly.  One guy told us about running the Pike's Peak half-marathon; 13.1 miles straight up.  It begins at an altitude of around 8,000 feet  and ends at 14,000.  Grueling.  Next day, marathoners run all the way up, then all the way back down.  Each holds it's own challenges.  Later in the day, I tell Mike I am intrigued by the idea of the half.  He looks at me like I have lost my freakin' mind.  Same guy also told us about running across the Golden Gate Bridge as part of the San Francisco marathon.  Apparently, they don't always do this.  They make a decision the morning of, based on weather and the terrorist threat level.  I know how much of a race is run in one's head and I wonder if that would wreck me...the disappointment of finding out at the last minute...

Once we get to the start area, we queue up for one last potty stop.  We begin a conversation with the man who was the very first person to register for San Antonio.  He registered over a year ago.  He even had a special race tag to commemorate.  "First to register, last to finish," he joked.  He was one of those guys you would probably not pick out in a crowd as a marathoner.  There are lots of those in the race.  Sure, there are plenty of people with two percent body fat drinking their barley grass on the way to the start line.  But there are also a great many ordinary looking moms and dads and grandparents.  People of a variety of shapes.  Equal opportunity.

When the time comes to peel off my warm up pants and my fleece to store away in my gear bag, I kind of want to cry.  My whole body is shivering.  Noticeably.  But, I know that just a few miles down the road I will be glad not to have the extra weight.  I will begin in shorts, a tank, a long sleeve dry fit shirt, and my nice, new Verizon throw-away gloves.  Those were a thoughtful inclusion in our gear bags.  I had brought gloves.  I knew I would need them.  But it was great having a pair I could pitch when I was done with them.  I stepped on thousands of pairs over the course of the run.  Joining our corral, I thank God for body heat.  The cumulative effect makes the waiting bearable.  Lots of laughing and joking.  A beautiful sense of community.

Released at last to run, my legs are so happy.  They have not been pleased about my shorter, slower runs of the past couple of weeks.  They do not understand about the whole resting up thing.  But, they will be glad for it later.  Bands play and people shout as we run through downtown.  I can feel the energy in my chest.  I breathe it in with every breath.  Certainly, many are here looking for a certain person or persons to cheer on, but they graciously extend their good wishes to all.  Cowbells, whistles, noise makers of endless variety.  I love the children; the ones who timidly hold out their hands for high-fives as runners pass.  I love the sweet, older Hispanic woman who throws out her arms and says, "Welcome to my neighborhood!"  I love the people who will show up at the more isolated areas during the second half and sit, their legs dangling over the edge of a bridge, as they call to every runner, now more spread out, "You can do it!"

I pick out the neighborhood where I would like to live, should I ever move to San Antonio.  The houses are old.  Each is a distinct art work.  Victorian, Spanish, Arts and Crafts.  They sit in the shade of ancient trees; the same trees that canopy us as we run.  Beautiful!  It is here that I have a little scare.  Nine miles in, my right knee starts cramping.  I have never experienced this before.  I am terrified.  I stop and stretch.  Better for a bit, then back again.  Stop and stretch again...pray.  Slow the pace.  Gradually the pain recedes, never to return.  A gift...a grace.

I had confessed to Mike before we began that I feared the moment when the half-marathon course broke away.  I wondered if I would be tempted to turn and be done.  I was not.  In fact, when I reached the point in the marathon course where they marked the half-way point, I realized that I would rather be running than resting.  That's when I knew the disease has planted itself firmly within me.  I knew that I would be doing this for a long time. 

I would guess probably at least two thirds of the runners did the half, meaning that the second leg was considerably less crowded.  This is good; fewer wasted steps trying to make your way around clumps of people to maintain your pace.  I knew we had been running a more aggressive pace on the front end than I ever had on my long runs in training.  I was fully prepared to start pulling back as soon as I felt I needed to.  So, imagine my surprise as I approached each mile marker and saw that I was still under a 10 minute pace.  Now, I was not trying to figure seconds.  Math has never been my strong suit, and extreme physical exertion messes somewhat with your mental faculties.  So, I contented myself with approximations.  When I hit the 18 mile marker, I did the math and realized I could walk from there and still come in under 5 hours (my goal).  That was a sweet moment.

Another sweet moment:  One of the tunes in my mix was Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing by Sufjan Stevens.  It started to play just as I was running the tree covered lane beside Mission San Jose.  The sky was such a deep intense blue it looked as though you could cut it into slices.  The sun was shining.  I was running and breathing.  I threw my arms out and ran in a state of absolute bliss, knowing without a doubt that I am blessed.

When I uploaded my multiple personality disorder music mix onto Mike's iPOD shuffle, it arranged the tunes in alphabetical order.  Because I never listened to it in this order before the race, I never knew what was coming next.  This made for delightful surprises all the way through.  I could hardly wait as one tune ended to see what was coming next. 

Once I passed the 22 mile mark, I was in virgin territory, having never run this far before.  I had been afraid of this as well.  With every mile, I gave myself permission to walk if need be, but I felt strong and happy...so I ran on.  Deciding to "leave it all on the course", I skipped my last few walk breaks.  There comes a time, anyway, when slowing down just reveals to you how sore you are.  I must confess, I was not amused when I saw that the last two tenths of a mile were going to be a long up-hill.  I heard a lot of complaints about that after.  BUT, the spectators were two or three deep all along the way and there were people hanging off the bridge overhead cheering, and that imparted lots of energy.  I fought tears several times during the last mile.  I was determined not to cry till I was through because I knew it would make it impossible to breathe.  Then, when I finally crossed the finish line, all I felt was elation.  There were no tears.  I wanted to dance.  I was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude.  There...in that place...on that day...I had done something I do not believe I was capable of.  I feel I was given a gracious gift.  And for that, I am truly thankful.  "Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!"  II Corinthians 9:15

Morning Stroll.....

 

Farewell San Antonio...

Snapshots from San Antonio...

The beautiful Riverwalk is one of those places you really have to
stand in to fully comprehend its loveliness.  Nighttime is my favorite
and it is difficult to capture in images, but here are a few attempts.

Boudros is our favorite restaurant on the Riverwalk.  Everything
they serve is creatively seasoned and artfully presented.  Since we
had eaten a late lunch, we opted for a tapas type meal with three
different appetizers.  We began with the fresh guacamole, made
tableside.  It was, without a doubt, the best I have ever had.  Then,
Mike had the Golf Coast Seacakes made with fresh lump blue crab,
roasted corn sauce, jicama slaw and tomatillo cream.  I had the
Mesquite-Grilled Texas Quail marinated with Sherry, orange and soy
on peper jack grits with a Dijon molasses glaze.  The contrast of the
savory, spicy grits with the citrusy sweet tender quail was superb. 
Finally, we shared the Double Chocolate Brownie.  Two Brownies: 
One with cinnamony Azteca ice cream in a chocolate shell, one with
Toffee Crunch ice cream; all drencheded in Creme Anglais with
chocolate shavings.  Delicious!

Chip Times...

This is Mission San Jose.  I ran right by it this morning.  Beautiful!!  Congrats to Mike on his outstanding performance in the Half Marathon.  Here are our official results:

9037 Shelia Mullican F 40-44
Marathon Start:   Gun 7:44:33     Chip 7:58:54
Splits:	5 Km	6.1 Mi	10 Mile	Half	17 Mile	20 Mile	24 Mile	Finish	O'All	Sex	Div
Times:	29:38			2:03:44	2:40:08	3:12:01	3:57:47	4:19:57	2688	869	148
Pace:	9:33			9:27	9:26	9:37	9:55	9:55

9366 Mike Mullican M 40-44
Half Marathon Start:   Gun 7:44:33     Chip 7:58:54
Splits:	5 Km	6.1 Mi	10 Mi	Finish	O'All	Sex	Div
Times:	29:38	57:46	1:35:05	2:03:08	3605	2109	306
Pace:	9:33	9:18	9:31	9:24

I'm an Eagle Rider!!

26.2 miles.  4 hours 20 minutes.  Indescribable experience!!! 
.....of course...you know I'm going to attempt to describe it.  :~) 
But not yet.  First lunch, then a nap.  Then, we'll see.  Until then,
this song was on my playlist.  It sums up a lot of what I was
feeling...like I was accomplishing something of which I was
incapable...like I was being carried...on Eagle wings. 

Eagle Rider
Delirious

I feel the spirit's breath moving down my neck
Closer than a summers day
You're a lion on my back
I hear the spirit speak whispering my name
Gentle as a butterfly
In a violent hurricane

I feel the spirits breath free me from the net
Flying from captivity
And the life i called a wreck
I hear the spirit speak a voice behind my eyes
It's time for a brand new song to sing
Now i'm saying my goodbyes

I'm an eagle rider flying on your wings
And you take me higher to your beauty i will cling
I'm an eagle rider when i fly above the winds
And i'm climbing higher, so much higher than i've been

I see the world below spinning in the breeze
The giants seem much smaller here
Now i'm living in my dreams
I love the spirits voice it's teaching me to fly
It's time for a rediscovery
As i fall into the sky

Chirp Chirp....

Ever been engaged in conversation with someone and come to a
moment when something terribly awkward has been said and you just
don't know what to do next?  Looking for the perfect stocking stuffer? 
...a unique gift for that someone who has everything?  ...a way to
subtly annoy the folks at work?  :~)  Enter the CRICKETtoy.  Calvin
the Cricket is the creation of our friend Jeff Anderson.  He was
created to fill those "awkward pauses" in life.  My kids have enjoyed
employing ours in those tedious conversations that are daily
encounters in a household with teenagers. 

Need more info?  Need a more altruistic motive to buy a case or two? 
Check this out:

Kardandak Enterprises, LLC was created and owned by Jeff
Anderson, a freelance songwriter, composer and producer in
Spring Hill (Nashville), TN.

It was created to produce theCRICKETtoy™ brand and sell
millions of toys, t-shirts and other things so:

1. I can pay our bills and not have 15,000 crickets in the
   garage
2. I can encourage the world to laugh during these tough
   times (Save the Pause!)
3. My girls and I can go back to Disney World again (this
   is their favorite goal)

Kardandak is my life. What do I mean?  My three girls are:
Dana (wife), Karis (daughter) and Dakota (daughter). Karis,
Dana and Dakota-Kardandak. It’s my life.

Right now, we are selling these tens of thousands of crickets
and t-shirts out of our garage. I hope (and so does my wife)
that we will be able to get an office somewhere soon, but for
now, it’s all out of the garage. I’m living the dream! Please
don’t let me be stuck with 15,000 crickets in our garage!!!
Buy at least a pair of them and see if they mate. (Chirp.
Chirp.)

Calvin has a blog.  You can follow his exploits around Music City and
get a little historical background about crickets in China.  You can
also read about Calvin's symphonic debut, already covered here. 
Meet Jeff and discover possible applications for the CRICKETtoy on
Youtube.

Creativity and good humor coming out to play.  Check it out.

"So Will I Build My Altar in the Fields...."

  

TO NATURE
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

 

It may indeed be phantasy, when I
Essay to draw from all created things
Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
Lessons of love and earnest piety.
So let it be; and if the wide world rings
In mock of this belief, it brings
Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,
And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

 

Marathon Playlist...

Today I assembled my play-list for the marathon.  Mike and I will run the first 10 miles or so together. Then his half marathon course will split off, and I will be on my own.  Although there are to be 70 bands along the way, I would like to have the option of controlling my auditory menu.  So, I borrowed Mike's iPOD Shuffle (my iPOD video is a tad bulky) and loaded it up with good stuff.

I have enjoyed listening to audio books on my last two long runs; Candide on one and Ender's Game on the other.  So, I included the first couple of hours of The Lady in the Palazzo by Marlena De Blasi.  My sweet friend Jen introduced me to De Blasi's A Thousand Days in Tuscany.  I have revelled in her evocative descriptions of the sights, smells, tastes, and sounds of this place I love so.  I was delighted to find this next title on CD at the library today.

To keep my options open, I also loaded on as much music as would fit.  To say it is an eclectic assortment would be a gross understatement...and this after a good bit of editing.  I had so much fun assembling my list, I got to thinking I might just have to keep running afterward to make sure I get to listen to all of it........Jk.  Just so you know what's running through my head as I am running through San Antonio, here is a sampling of artists who made the cut:

Sufjan Stevens
Yo Yo Ma
Train
Feist
Coldplay
Keith Urban
Billy Bragg and Wilco
Natasha Bedingfield
Philip Glass
Ray Charles and the Count Basie Orchestra
Brad Paisley
Mozart
Eric Clapton
Ingrid Michaelson
John Mayer
Kentucky Headhunters
Samuel Barber
Toby Mac
Loreena McKennitt
U2
B.B. King
Tracy Chapman
Eddie Vedder
Madeleine Peyroux
Delirious

Fifty-four and a half hours to start.  The marathon is sold out at 30,000 participants.   Forecasted weather:  Sunny with a low of 41 and a high of 69.  Pretty much perfect.  Only slightly terrified.  Mostly excited.  Really excited!

Concerning the Spiritual in Art

 
Born in Moscow in 1866, Wassily Kandinsky was brimming with potential.  He excelled in his studies of political economy and law and received an appointment at Moscow University upon his graduation.  In 1896 he surprised everyone when he turned down a professorship at Dorpat University and went to Munich to study painting.  How very fortunate for us all.

His upbringing had provided him with artistic encounters that had fed that very creative space inside him.  From cello and piano lessons to the oil paints he bought with his own money at thirteen, from the icons in his Russian Orthodox faith to Rembrandt's paintings, from a performance of Wagner's Lohengrin to an encounter with Monet's Haystack, beauty was courting and calling him.

In addition to his studies in Munich, Kandinsky also travelled extensively viewing the works of other artists, past and present.  In Paris he attended several exhibits by the Fauves.  He also helped organize artist groups, the most famous being Der Blaue Reiter, founded with Franz Marc and named after one of Kandinsky's paintings.  The exhibitions hosted by this group included artists outside the group; George Braque, Paul Klee and Pablo Picasso to name a few.  The ethos of the group might best be summed up in Kandinsky's own words, "I value only those artists who really are artists, that is, who conciously or unconciously, in an entirely original form, embody the expression of their inner life; who work only for this end and cannot work otherwise."

In 1911, the same year in which Der Blaue Reiter was formed, the artist coalesced his artistic ideas into a work entitled Uber das Geistige in der Kunt, Concerning the Spiritual in Art.  It became a foundational work for the development of modern art.  It is exceptional in that it captures a moment in artistic time, and that it takes you inside the mind of one of the great creative geniuses of our time...of all time.  It is a small book, but is absolutely packed with insight and provacative assertions.  I published several quotes from the book along with a selection of his works in an earlier post.  I have here attempted to share some of the thoughts which were most compelling to me.

Differentiating between materialist and spiritual art he says, "This art which has no power for the future, which is only a child of the age and cannot become a mother of the future, is a barren art.  She is transitory and to all intent dies the moment the atmosphere alters which nourished her.  The other art...springs equally from contemporary feeling, but is at the same time not only echo and mirror of it, but also has a deep and powerful prophetic strength...When one stage has been accomplished, and many evil stones cleared from the road, some unseen and wicked hand scatters new obstacles in the way, so that the path often seems blocked and totally obliterated.  But there never fails to come to the rescue some human being, like ourselves in everything except that he has in him the secret power of vision."

"When religion, science and morality are shaken, the two last by the strong hand of Nietzsche, and when the outer supports threaten to fall, man turns his gaze from externals in onto himself.  Literature, music and art are the first and most sensitive spheres in which this spiritual revolution makes itself felt."

Kandinsky envied the non-representational aspect of music which allowed it to express emotion pure and unfettered.  Of the music of Debussy he said, "...this musician is deeply concerned with spiritual harmony, for in his works one hears the suffering and tortured nerves of the present time...[the listener] is often snatched quite suddenly from a series of modern discords into the charm of more or less conventional beauty.  He feels himself often insulted, tossed about like a tennis ball over the net between the two parties of the outer and inner beauty.  To those who are not accustomed to it the inner beauty appears as ugliness because humanity in general inclines to the outer and knows nothing of the inner."

Fascinated by the psychic properties of color, he explored this phenomenon all his life.  An entire chapter of the book is devoted to his observations.  "The eye is strongly attracted by light clear colours...to a more sensitive soul the effect of colours is deeper and intensely moving...They produce a corresponding spiritual vibration..."

A clever illustration of the priority of substance over particulars in art: "In a conversation with an interesting person, we endeavor to get at his fundamental ideas and feelings.  We do not bother about the words he uses, nor the spelling of those words, nor the breath necessary for speaking them, nor the movement of his tongue and lips, nor the psychological working on our brain, nor the physical sound in our ear, nor the physiological effect on our nerves.  We realize that these things...are not the main things of the moment, but that the meaning and idea is what concerns us.  We should have the same feeling when confronted with a work of art."

"The artist has a triple responsibility to the non-artists:
1.  He must repay the talent he has.
2.  His deeds, feelings and thoughts, as those of every man, create a spiritual atmosphere which is either pure or poisonous.
3.  These deeds and thoughts are materials for his creations, which themselves exercise influence on the spiritual atmosphere."
 

Jesus Wants to Save Christians...

...such is the assertion of a new book by Rob Bell and Don Golden.  The authors take readers on a whirlwind trip through the Old Testament.  We are given a taste of The Kingdom as God envisioned it, though far too often the people of God fell woefully short of their destiny.  We see beautiful communion with God, then rebellion, captivity, and rescue.  It is a cycle that is played out more than once.  We meet the helpless.  We meet those who have power to do a world of good, but who withhold or abuse that power.  We encounter a number of political systems, but are never told that God meant to bring about His Kingdom through those.  Instead, we are given the opportunity to dream about what it might look like if we as believers, as lovers of Christ, as the Kingdom were to truly rise to our calling to be the physical representation of God on the earth.  Who would be fed?  Who would be held and comforted and loved extravagantly?  How would we spend our money?  How would we speak to one another?  What would it be like?

Come to the book with an open heart and an open mind, and I think you will be challenged and inspired.  Come cynical and suspect, and you will probably leave much the same.  God cannot help those who do not want help...who do not need help.  "For many people, it was their cry, their desperation, their acknowledgment of their oppression, that was the beginning of their liberation.  When we're on top, when the system works for us, when we are capable of managing our lives, what is there for God to do?"

Here is a sampling of words you will meet in the book:

"There is God's Kingdom--the peace, the shalom, the good that God intended for all things.  And then there is what happens when entire societies and systems and empires become opposed to God's desires for the world."

"The Hebrew Scriptures have a very simple and direct message:
God always hears the cry of the oppressed;
God cares about human suffering and the conditions that cause it. 
God is searching for a body, a community of people to care for the things God cares about. 
God gives power and blessing so that justice and righteousness will be upheld for those who are denied them. 
This is what God is like.  This is what God is about.  This is who God is."

"Our tears are sacred.  They water the ground around our feet so that new things can grow...Because it's when we're fully present in our pain, when we're willing to sit in our tears, that we're ready to imagine a different kind of tomorrow."

"The central promise to the father of their faith, Abraham, was that God would bless his people so that they would bless the world...But the disciples' interest isn't in the ends of the earth.  They're interested in regaining the kingdom of comfort they once had...Deep in their bones is the belief that they are God's favorites."

"'We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.' II Corinthians 4:10 ...How can the death that is 'at work in us' produce life in his friends?  That's how the Eucharist works.  For someone to receive, someone has to give.  For someone to be fed, someone has to provide the food...The church is a living Eucharist, because followers of Christ are living Eucharists."

"The way of Jesus is the path of descent.  It's about our death.  It's our willingness to join the world in its suffering..it's our weakness calling out to others in their weakness."

"...when Christians organize politically and start flexing that muscle, making threats about how they are going to impose their way on others, so many people turn away from Jesus.  Jesus' followers at that point are claiming to be the voice of God, but they are using the language of Caesar and using the methods of Rome...  It's not the path of descent, it's not weak resonating with weak, it's not the way, it's not Eucharist."

"Our standing in solidarity with the single parent, the unemployed, the refugee, our joining the God of the oppressed to work for justice in the world, doesn't just make a difference for those who are suffering.  It rescues US."

"We find God in our own oppression, in our own crying out, in our own response to the body of Christ broken for us, the blood of Christ poured out for us...A group of believers taking the bread and the cup, asking, 'What now Jesus?' -- the stars sing when that happens."

"Jesus wants to save us from shrinking the gospel down to a transaction about the removal of sin and not about every single particle of creation being reconciled to its maker."

"He has chosen the path of descent;
he comes into Jerusalem on a donkey, not a horse,
with children, not soldiers,
weeping,
humble. 
And he dies,
naked,
bleeding,
thirsty,
alone. 

Maybe that's what he means when he says, 'Do this in remembrance of me.'  The 'do this' part is our lives...

Because when we do this in remembrance of him,
the world will never be the same;
we will never be the same."

Painting by Marc Chagall

Courage...

“And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside
the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

~Anais Nun

All The World's a Stage....

Joshua made his triumphant debut this weekend as thespian. 
He played the role of Jim Hawkins in an adaptation of Robert
Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island.  He was fabulous!  His
innocence and goodwill made him a perfect choice for the
optimistic ingenue.  He took the role very seriously and has
worked hard.  It is a fun play and was a pleasure to watch.    

Bravissimo, Mi Amore!  I am so proud of you!

 

 

Welcome Home!!

Mike and the team arrived home this morning from Malawi.  They
had a remarkable experience.  I have enjoyed just listening as he
and Kelsey talk about this place and these people they now have
in common.  He brought letters and video greetings to her from
friends.  The experience moved him deeply, and he too has come
to love these precious people.  Family.  Far, far away.  But family,
just the same.  Here are a few shots.  See and read more on
Caleb's blog.  Caleb is actually staying on for a few days,
overlapping a second team.  So, there will be continuing posts
from him.  In today's post he tells about a refugee camp he visited
yesterday and the redemptive ministry started there by a young
man who has spent his whole life in these camps.

 

Autumn Romance....

"Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower."
~Albert Camus

Autumn is reaching its grand crescendo just now in Franklin.  Every tree displays an extravagance of color.  I find myself constantly distracted by them.  I turn a corner to find the lemon yellow of a poplar silhouetted against a crimson maple, all against a cerulean sky, and I feel as if I have stepped into the most delightful painting.  And yet, on the most ordinary street in an ordinary town, God is creating dazzling tableaus everywhere.

And that quality of the air.  I want so desperately to give it a name.  Not soft exactly.  It is too much alive for that.  It is a pervasive sense that all is right, all is good.  It is clean air, easy to breathe.  It carries a vitality that I feel myself drawing in with every breath.

We have had a long, luxurious autumn this year.  It often seems as if fall bursts upon us in a brilliant flame that is all too quickly extinguished, and I am left longing, regretting that it could not have lasted longer, wishing to go back, just for a few days.  Not this year.  This year, it has been a deep, satisfying romance.  Certainly, I will be sad to see it pass.  But, I will hear its echoes for a very long time........

Painting by Gustave Klimt

I'll Be Seeing You......

My daughter and her friends watched one of my all time favorite films this past weekend.  This song really grabbed her.  She downloaded it and has been playing it ever since.  I love the film.  I love the song.  And, because everything that matters ends up here sooner or later......

Vote Early and Vote Often

"The future of this republic is in the hands of the American voter."
~Dwight D. Eisenhower

"The ballot is stronger than bullets."
~Joseph A Schumpeter

"The vote is the most powerful instrument ever devised by man for breaking
down injustice and destroying the terrible walls which imprison men because
they are different from other men."
~Lyndon B. Johnson

"Vote early, and vote often."
~Al Capone

"My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to
prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place."
~Jesus Christ

The vote.  The most precious commodity of a free people.  A profound privilege and a grave responsibility.  I was eighteen years old the first time I voted in a presidential election.   I challenge my students to register the day they turn eighteen, and to NEVER miss an opportunity to have their voice heard.  My grandparents, who adore one another, have spent most of their married life in opposing political parties.  He would cast his vote for one candidate and she would cast hers for the other, essentially canceling one another out.  And yet, every time they drove the thirty minutes to town to cast their ballot.  It's that important.

But, it is not EVERYTHING.  Jesus called us to render to Caesar that which is Caesar's, and to God that which is God's.  I have an opinion about who should be president.  I will exercise my right and responsibility as a citizen.  But, I am not pinning all my hopes and dreams to the outcome of this election.  The kingdom I look for will not be established by the president or the congress.  And no matter how powerful we are as a nation, we will NEVER have the power to create OR destroy The Kingdom.

So today I vote.  I say thank you to the many who gave their lives to secure this privilege for me...and for you.  And today I say, "Father, YOUR kingdom come, YOUR will be done, on earth as in heaven."

"I Have Called You Friends..."

One of the sweet joys of my life is a Bible study I have only recently started attending.  I am surrounded by radiant women whose wisdom and passion for God are truly a blessing.  We have been reading a book by Archimandrite Meletios Webber called Bread and Water, Wine and Oil.  It is fast becoming one of the most significant books I have read, and I have read a LOT of books.  We are moving slowly and reflectively through the book so as to squeeze out every morsel.  This week we have been reading about the friendship to which God has invited each of us.  I find myself in deepening awe of the fact that God desires to know me...to  laugh with me....to cry with me...to dream with me....to sit with me....to breathe with me...  It has been so beautiful that I couldn't not share. 

"Mystery is the space where we meet God...There in the space beyond thought and feeling, [we] experience a silently worded expression of a very real and eternal relationship with God." 
~Webber

"At the beginning of this story, [Adam and Eve] were in a beautiful relationship with God.  The relationship was loving and nurturing, and the young couple found God full of tenderness and compassion; they even went for walks with Him in the evening.  However, something in them started to go wrong, and they made a move which to them looked like a bid for freedom.  The sad part is, they were already free--they just didn't know it."
~Webber

"God does not accept a glib, smooth relationship, not does he impose his presence--he offers it, but it can only be received on the same terms, those of a humble, loving heart, when two timidly, shyly seeking people reach to each other because of a deep mutual respect and because both recognize the holiness and the extraordinary beauty of reciprocal love."
~Metropolitan Anthony Bloom

"In making genuine relationships, there always has to be a certain amount of risk-taking...If I show you who I really am, at a level that is usually closed to other people, I stand the risk of you looking at me and deciding you would rather not bother."
~Webber

"At a profound level, we are invited to get to know [God] as a person...It is as if we approach the throne of God, and instead of cringing like prisoners, awaiting the wrath we have earned, we hold up our lives and shout out like small children, 'Papa--look!'"
~Webber

"Once we start to function in a spiritual manner, the progression is from the unknown to the more unknown, and yet we keep going willingly and gladly...eventually...we come to a stage where there is simply silence--an eloquent yet comfortable silence.  That silence is prayer."
~Webber

"I no longer call you servants...I have called you friends."
~Jesus (John 15:15)

 

I have called you children, I have called you son.
What is there to answer if I'm the only one?
Morning comes in Paradise, morning comes in light.
Still I must obey, still I must invite.
If there's anything to say, if there's anything to do,
If there's any other way, I'll do anything for you.

I was dressed embarrassment.
I was dressed in wine.
If you had a part of me, will you take your time?
Even if I come back, even if I die
Is there some idea to replace my life?
Like a father to impress;
Like a mother's mourning dress,
If you ever make a mess, I'll do anything for you

I have called you preacher; I have called you son.
If you have a father or if you haven't one,
I'll do anything for you. I did everything for you

For the Widows in Paradise
Sufjan Stevens

Images from The Passion of the Christ and Giotto di Bondone

Viva La Video...

One week only:  Download Coldplay's new video for Lovers in
Japan from ITunes for FREE.  Love the lights and the butterflies! 
Check it out.