a week

Today, this hour, marks a week since I came home from the “A Woman’s Heart” Retreat.   It was a truly rejuvenating, refreshing weekend in which I had a little bit of sacred space to think about spiritual things, about my life.   Sometimes, you never know how much you need something until you have it. I think I can safely say that most of the other women there felt the same way.  We had great conversations, great food and drink, and great craic.  I officially know what it means when I get a text that reads “bring your party piece.”  And I don’t have one yet, but might get one.  Maybe.

I also went set dancing this week with my friend Alison and her Mom, Heather.   Set means 1) the formation in which one stands in relation to other people and 2) a dance in which there are patterns of dancing called figures.   A full set  (the formation of people) is comprised of 4 couples.  Two top couples and two side couples.   I suppose ideally, the couples would be men and women, but as more women go to these things, my partner was named Alice.   A full set (the dance comprised of patterns) is six separate dances, each referred to as a figure.   In an hour and a half, we only learned 3 figures, but it was done strenuously.   If I set danced every day, it would totally count as exercise!   Alison got a few shots of me on my first set dancing excursion, but the instructor said no photos, so I guess I’ll keep them and enjoy them and you’ll have to imagine.  Sorry about that.

During this past week, I’ve had some great conversations with new friends and friends not-as-new . . . and with these conversations, I feel I’m settling in more and more and finding my way. Deep sigh of relief.  Even Scott and I had a very good conversation – old married couples need those.

Yesterday, the two of us went into Dublin to record a cd with the New Irish choir, to be dubbed in with the New Irish Orchestra which was recorded previously.   An amazing amount of technical expertise goes into recording and it was a great experience.  I’m quite relieved that our bit was only four songs- many others stayed on for hours and hours recording another 10 or so songs.   Seeing as how it took from 11 to 3 to record the four . . .    But the choir was fabulous and it was a privilege to be part of the event.   Another deep sigh of relief/joy.

Also have had some hard news about a friend back in Alabama – she was having headaches and now has been found to have a lesion in the posterior part of her brain.   She is a lovely person with an amazing family and a strong faith, but still, I’d like to be there to support them as they walk through the days ahead.  It’s hard to imagine that the friend that you went to Pilates with and discussed heartaches and joys with enduring something as foreign as this, but I suppose this is life.

The television service, the refrigerator and outlets in one of our rooms all bit the dust to some extent this week.  I received a replacement for my broken camera and it remains in the box.  The Six Nations Championship is on this weekend and I’ve missed all but a few minutes – most of Ireland would be watching, so I’m failing to join in.

E has started rehearsals for being Mary Poppins and all three kiddies had the h1n1 vaccine, which caused a sore arm uproar, but all seems well.  I read with G’s class on a new day so I can make my Monday, Wednesday, Friday workout.  Went to bible study and book club on two nights, and each morning I awoke as one tired girl.

There’s been a lot of living in the past seven days.  Time to be quiet and drink in some stillness.

without delay

I was standing outside the local sweets shop after school waiting on the children when I heard one passing child say to another, “You’ll have to hurry.  Mum said not to delay.”   And I realized that if I have not said this, now is the time to say it . . . words have LOADED meanings.   You knew that, right?   Beyond acknowledging that fact, I am often struck by the meaning of the words that I hear around me in Ireland.   I’d probably not tell my children not to delay if I were in a hurry, though that is precisely what I would mean by saying “don’t fool around” or “don’t waste any time.”   But that word choice is due to underlying values, likely.   Raised in the US, I’d have been taught the value of being serious about the task at hand and being efficient as well.  Therefore, I use words that reflect those values.

But I think I like the simple “don’t delay.”   It only means to come on, without the implication that wastefulness or fun might intervene.  I’d rather not throw out negative connotations if I can help it.

Regularly, I’d hear these kinds of distinctions in word usage.   And while I can’t call any other distinctions to mind, I’d really like to be more thoughtful about the words that I use.  Without delay, naturally.

Speaking of delays, I had delayed deleting photos off of my laptop and now, I am informed by an innocuous little box on the screen that the start up drive is full.  So you know what I’ll be doing. Clickety click click, my husband calls it . . . computer work.

dusk

hole in the armpit

My child – or at least one of them – has gone to school for 2 days with a tremendous hole ripped in the seam under one of the arms of his coat.   I regret that is the case, but the truth is this . . .   I have too many plates spinning and I was never crowned Queen of Organization and Planning anyway.  I am very tired.  And there’s no sign of a slow-down anytime soon.

Scott and I had a long talk today about the demands and expectations of others.   It’s difficult to convey what your life is like to another person, because no two lives are alike and honestly, folks just have no frame of reference for paths they’ve never traveled.   Some people seem to expect you to meet them where they are, to respond as they would respond, to do as they would do as if you are a clone, regardless of your own limitations.  Other people seem to extend a lot of grace, even if they don’t “get you.”  And still others, a very small set of people, really do get you and they believe the best about you because that’s the kind of people they are.

So to that small group of people who get me – and love me even with my limitations, I thank you.   I love you.  For all the times that I haven’t been able to deliver, whatever that might have looked like, and you cut me loads of slack and continued to love me, I am more than grateful.  But the word grateful will have to do.   Because you know that I want to mend that whole in the armpit, right?

In every job that must be done . . .

Today  we have a Miss Mary Poppins among us.   She went to school as E and came home all spit spot and cheerful.

Auditions for the junior choir mini-musical were today.  She announced it in the car on the way to school, cool as a cucumber.  This is how it all went down (for grandparents, who’d like the details):

I walked into the hall and I sang “Spoon Full of Sugar” to my choir teacher and  in front of a girl that was in the hall.   I sang it once then she asked me “Do you know how fantastic you are at singing?”  And I stood there silently and finally said “Sort of?!”  And then another teacher popped out from behind her door, my teacher from last year, and she had heard me singing the first time.   She told me that she’d been hiding behind her door, listening to me.  Then another teacher came into the hall and she wanted to hear me sing again.  My choir teacher told me to sing to her again and I felt extremely nervous this time and I felt very hot.   One other girl came into the hall and just waited there, wanting to hear me sing along with the other girl.  After I sang the song again, everybody was telling me how good it was.  I didn’t say anything, I just blushed and went back into the room that everybody was waiting in.”

And completely unrelated:

Did you know that a group of elves is called a parliament? These are the things we learn from cheese stick wrappers.

I am delighted she has her Dad’s performance gene and that she was not too terribly bothered by the whole scene.  Relieved that we have boosted her confidence enough that she can do the thing she wants to do . . .

just thankful.

Unnatural

This morning, one kid put the hat on belonging to another kid.  ”Why can’t I wear your hats?”  the hat-wearing kid wanted to know as the protest had begun.   “It’s not natural,” said the hat-owner.

I suppose that what he meant is that it violates his sense of order, among other violations.

If I were allowed to say so, when asked how I’m doing, I’d say that I’m feeling rather unnatural.  Of course, that would only serve to confuse and befuddle, so I’ll confine that comment to this little confession here.

My sense of order is violated in that we are STILL trying to find a place for things a year and a half in, to use the space we have as best we can.   There’s no order in the fact that both of my sons are now the same size and I can’t figure out how to parcel out the clothes and such as we morph from a hand-me-down system to a sharing system.   Where are the boundaries?  How do I mark them? Our lives, while marked by some degree of routine, also are in flux, changing.  Ideas, changing.   Events, changing.  There is no “usual” anymore in many regards.  I’d grab hold of something, but it would only rotate away from me.

Scott and I are both hitting a stage where we don’t bounce back like we used to, physically, that is.  My sprained ankle  has gone on for ages.  His collarbone is still giving him fits.  We can’t read important things without scouting for our reading glasses – we used to be able to compensate, but compensation is not possible these days.   The hair is going greyer and I don’t want to go there gracefully.  Not yet.  Not now.   But I don’t want to have an unnatural color preceding me – preceding the things I do and say – it seems like artificial color shouts “Here I come, very indiscretely!!”  I do not have black hair or even strictly dark brown hair, but God gave me variation.   I want the natural color.   I want some years back.

Yes, I know that is entirely unreasonable.   I just wasn’t ready for these physical changes when all the rest of our lives were in a constant state of change.   Okay, okay, I know life consists of one change after another.  And I usually like change.   But recently, the change seems too unnatural and I feel too violated.  Oh sugar, is this a mid-life crisis?

It’s not natural.  Not the way life, the world, was meant to be.  We are violated by age, by decay, by the passage of time.  And one day . . . blissfully, the unnatural will cease.

This is a time to hold on to an immutable God.  While the world keeps spinning and millions of things break off and float and confuse, I will hold fast.

(shooting on manual before adjusting the ISO  - before the camera broke)

haiti

Thinking of and praying for Haiti this morning.  Personal updates can be found here:

http://www.livesayhaiti.blogspot.com

reading thoughts

I’m just glad I finished it . . . I’m all out of Kerouac and I don’t mind a bit!

http://thewordsthatgotaway.wordpress.com/2010/01/15/on-the-road

white

Yesterday, I was able to take a very, very short walk.  Dark was falling, and with plenty of ice on the ground, I thought I should head back home.  As soon as I turned, the snow began to come down.  Softly.   More than flurries, but softly.   One half of the sky was clouded with a deep, unusual blue with impinging grey and the other half of the sky, clouded pink and golden.   But all beneath the sky, white and becoming whiter, softening the landscape and evening it out in pure, white snow.  It seems to me that in snow, all things have a chance to be equally beautiful.

The more that fell, the quieter it was, and my pulse, my breathing,  slowed.   My thoughts tumbled into stillness.  And I stood, without moving, and watched it come down, quietly.  Down on the path before me, down on the rooftops of my neighbors, down on the town crawling with people out to get  supplies of food.   And the white flakes swirled into my cheeks and landed on my coat and I didn’t move.   There was utter quiet in my soul and I breathed the clean air in deeply and rested in a way I haven’t rested  in months.  It was a gorgeous moment.

All that remained in my head were the words “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.”

I hadn’t tried to think of the words, they were simply in my head.  All that was in my head.   And I breathed clean sweet air and felt peace descending, coming down with the snow, covering us all. Palpably, the love, compassion and mercy of a Creator fell in soft, white snow.  Let me blanket you, let me cover you, let me love you.  An entreaty.

This morning I read from Isaiah where those words about snow are found, read about God’s case against the people of the tribe of Judah.  Their backs were turned, they did not understand, they rebelled to the point of brokenness and bloodiness and injury.  Their country was desolate, cities burned by fire and fields stripped by foreigners.  But the people made sacrifices to God, who took no pleasure in them.  His soul hated their outward religious behavior.

Stop bringing meaningless offerings! Your incense is detestable to me.  New Moons, Sabbaths and convocations- I cannot bear your evil assemblies.  Your New Moon festivals and your appointed feasts my soul hates.  They have become a burden to me; I am weary of bearing them.  When you spread out your hands in prayer, i will hide my eyes from you; even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen.  Your hands are full of blood; wash and make yourselves clean.  Take your evil deeds out of my sight!  Stop doing wrong, learn to do right!  Seek justice, encourage the oppressed.  Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow.

And then, he entreats them

“Come now, let us reason together,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow  . . . “

How gentle and forgiving.  How pure, the softly falling white covering the dark places.

high on a hill was a lonely goatherd

About a week ago, we began to be snowed/iced in our house.   We live on a hill, and while we are snowy, other places have gone slushy.   At this stage, I’d not mind living in Slushyville.  Day after day, the children go out, come in, go out, come in . . . soaking wet.  We are beginning to see them come in unhappy at times.  Snowball fights can go vicious.   Having the same playmates day after day can be hard.  And then, it can be delightful.  Name-calling is not fun, but making a claymation film is.  Flying down a homemade snow-slide is a very good time, but dodging snowballs thrown into your open front door, is not.   I just hope the hot chocolate lasts through our confinement.

Our daughter is ready to go back to school.  The schedule was for school to start several days ago, but the primary and secondary national schools have been closed until driving conditions improve. And the snow still comes.  I will admit to actually groaning when it begins to snow.   And while E loves the snow, she is ready for a change of scenery, as is her mom.  I am so anxious to see friends in other towns, to see new scenery, to have my tea somewhere other than the top of this hill!

And yet, I try to enjoy and appreciate it.  It is where we are, after all. Yodel lay hee – yodel lay hee – yodel lay hee hoo.