I'm teaching Augustine's Confessions in the fall to 9th graders and contemplating how to do that "effectively." But for now, I'm just enjoying the re-read.

"I entered into my own depths, with You as guide; and I was able to do it because You were my helper."

(Book VII.X.16)

an emboldened spirit

"God of mystery, God of love, send your Spirit into our hearts with gifts of wisdom and peace, fortitude and charity. We long to love and serve you. Faithful God, make us faithful. Amen" (the midday prayer in the Diving Hours)

This morning, so many ends began to meet in my mind and heart, and in the process connected the two. I don't know how to explain it, but for quite awhile, the truth I've been meditating on, the truth I've been hoping will sustain me has been intellectual. My felt faith has been anything but robust and intuitive. But this morning, that changed for a few moments and I feel emboldened, like a glimpse into eternity...I have confidence in God's providential knowledge of all events, all physical, spiritual movements "as though they occur all at once." I don't fear the future of my self or my loved ones because the future has occurred, is occurring in the mind of God, somehow. Because I sensed his love this morning, I'm not afraid.

I've taken comfort in God's call for us to be faithful. Reassurance of his forgiveness and his presence gives me confidence that he'll teach us faithfulness.

A day lived redemptively. There are so few days when I feel fresh. As Collin said, "we've conquered today's battle," and he's ever reminding me to try not to carry one day's worries into the next. I love that man and I'm thankful I don't have to do without him.

a day of extended metaphor

The past couple days I've felt "o'erspent with gales," to borrow from Emily Dickinson. Actually it's been three days. Today was the third and it began wearily, in spite of the beauty of the morning. I made eggs, took the dog for a walk, and as we walked, I tried to talk myself out of the slump, nearly concluding with Solomon that all this effort is in vain if I'm going to spend the rest of my life doing this every day. It's just not how I want to live.

I got home and carried my pile of books that I'm reading to the front porch. One of them is the collected works of Emily Dickinson which I've enjoyed more than I anticipated. I usually read until I hit one that I need to read multiple times because it resonates so deeply. "Adrift! A Little Boat Adrift!" was that one for me today.

So simple, yet so timely. On my walk, I felt like I was sinking and I'm very aware that in those moments I need to decide, sink or swim. But what happens when you don't know what do next? I allow so many factors to make sinking out to be the most accessible option. But after I read and reread this poem, the images of "retrimming" and "redecking" stayed with me. That's what you do after a storm. It may take all night, and addressing the wear and tear of the storm is exhausting, but that doesn't hinder the exultation of surviving and continuing on.

Shortly after that, I opened my Bible to Matthew and scanned chapter 8, which picks up with the miracles of Jesus after the Sermon on the Mount. The disciples' fears and the calming of the storm settled in my understanding more deeply than ever.

Now that the day is over and I have returned to the poem and the verses, I just keep thanking God for poetry, for image and how it performs the marriage of the abstract with the concrete. He gave me this day of extended metaphor and it's ended better than it began.

#30

Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

So Sailors say -- on yesterday --
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.

So angels say -- on yesterday --
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat -- o'erspent with gales --
Retrimmed its masts -- redecked its sails --
And shot -- exultant on!

--------

And they went and woke him saying "Save us, Lord; we are perishing."

And he said to them "Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?" Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm.

and it's almost been a year

Tonight my mom and I were contemplating the expectations we place on others and ourselves. I get frustrated with others for not being who I want them to be and then I hate myself for wanting them to be who I want them to be and so on and so forth. And I blame my community, my upbringing, the books I read, (etc.) for my own bloated expectations. Lately, I've been trying to give up finding the roots of my anxiety, my lack of contentment, and most of all the expectations I place on the people I love and the experiences I have with them.

The chorus to "Ten Thousand Words" by the Avett Brothers plays in my head all the time...whenever I realize I'm talking just to talk, or I hear someone else doing the same. Not only in these instances, but most deeply when I realize I'm trying to know the whole of a situation or a person for the sake of knowing, rather than just enjoying and living in my life.

I love this song. I feel tense when I reflect on what the brothers have to say here. There's vulnerability here, but not without hints of bitterness. It is hard to try to wear the same clothes all the time, to "dress" in the way we think God has told us to, to talk in the way that feels comfortable and shared by most people we know. I not only try to figure this out for myself, but for many people I know...deeply or superficially. Not the best of habits.

So here's to a year of tension. Oh the places my mind has gone and the crazy ways I've tried to share them with others.

------------

Ten thousand words swarm around my head
Ten million more in books written beneath my bed
I wrote or read them all when searchin’ in the swarms
Still can’t find out how to hold my hands

And I know you need me in the next room over
But I am stuck in here all paralyzed
For months I got myself in ruts
Too much time spent in mirrors framed in yellow walls

Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about
Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about

And everyone around me shakes their head in disbelief
And says I’m too caught up
They say young is good and old is fine
And truth is cool but all that matters
Is that you have your good times
But their good times come with prices
And I can’t believe it when I hear the jokes they make
At anyone’s expense except their own
Would they laugh if they knew who paid?

Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about
Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about

And after we are through ten years
of making it to be the most of glorious debuts
I’ll come back home without my things
‘Cause the clothes I wore out there I will not wear ’round you
And they’ll be quick to point out our shortcomings
And how the experts all have had their doubts

Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about

music and march

New favorite music: Greg Laswell

Heard of him via Collin via Will Clark. I'm listening to his album "Three Flights from Alto Nido." Good driving music and lightly reflective lyrics.

Also, Mat Kearney. Loooove him.

March should be exciting. Staying with some of Hannah's friends (they're my favorites) because their parents are gone.

Then the weekend afterwards is Sigma Chi formal in Grand Rapids. So excited! Not only do I get to see Collin, but I love spending time with him and his friends. A few of them have really become like brothers to me. Especially Dylan and Kirk. And Jerbear will join us to pre-party! Grand Rapids is the best city in the wooooorld.

After that is INDY! With Kristen, Karen, Babs, Courtney, and a very pregnant Jen. Sigh. I was just talking to Courtney tonight and I got even more excited. I do miss them a lot and wish we were closer. My heart is in the Midwest right now.

And the weather has been gorgeous. Such a provision.

So thank you, God, for March and its wonderful beginning.

another important discovery

A few days ago, I learned that Julie Powell is not the person I imagined her to be. After reading her real blog and reviews of her book "Cleaving," I can't help but be disgusted with her.

Please take my opinion with a grain of salt. A huge grain. Notice, I said that I read a "review" of her book. Also, I have not read Julie and Julia. All I knew of Julie was from the movie. And I am embarrassed to even admit this because of how hard I took the true knowledge of her.

More deeply, I hate my temptation to judge her (and others I don't know) for mistakes that anyone of us could succumb to and it is also not my job to "forgive" her. So I don't even like that these are my feelings on the subject.

The thing is, I had so much hope and delight invested in the phantom, onscreen depiction of her. And so my important discovery lies in the fact that I fantasize other people's lives and get really disappointed when reality hits. Disappointed or bitter, and at my worst self-justified. My sorrow is very self-centered. So many things wrong with this tendency.

Some other things I learned:

My tolerance for snarkiness and foul language is limited to people I already know and love. Babs or Willbaer can drop the f-bomb as much as they like and I will love them forever. Random blogs or characters in books, not so much.

Finally, I cannot give up my enchantment with the film "Julie and Julia" and so I've allowed myself a modicum of denial. From now on, when I watch it, I will pretend (knowing full well that I am wrong) that Julie Powell is actually Amy Adams.

And instead of reading the novel "Julie and Julia" (or the follow-up "Cleaving" for that matter), I will read Julia Child's "My Life in France." Maybe someone more resilient than I could pick up Julie Powell's books and remain unscathed, but I don't think I'm mature enough. If you are not convinced, you didn't read this post carefully enough.