One Month and Four Days Ago. . .

Oops. It's awful. I think of all these great blog titles, clever witticisms, and profound revelations to post, but I don't actually type them. Very sad. Just think of all the wonderful products from my brain you're missing out on. . .

We had an early Thanksgiving dinner today so that we could celebrate with my mom's mom before she goest back to Florida. Everyone came to Tulsa, because B's work schedule only gave him enough time to join us if we ate here. That meant 9 people dining in our apartment. . .talk about crazy crowded! But it was fun. We set up a card table at the end of our dining table, added some folding chairs, pulled out almost all the china and a couple mis-matched pieces of silverware, and sat down to the traditional Thanksgiving fare. It's my 3rd turkey ever, and I'm proud to say it turned out as well as the second one. I refuse to take responsibility for the first one being undercooked, as it was taken out of the oven without my acquiescence. ;-)

I'm quite tired, now that everyone is gone. Of course they helped with dishes and clean-up--do you know how many dishes 9 people mess up when you use real china dinner plates, bread/fruit plates, saucers, cups, and serving pieces? And until we get a nicer dishwasher with a china cycle, I refuse to put my china or good "silver" in the dishwasher. It made for a lot of dishwashing. I'm glad I didn't have to do it all myself.

I've been continuting, albeit slowly, with Chesterton's Heretics, which is quite funny and interesting on a most-people-don't-think-this-hard-or-care-to level. (Do I get a prize for the length of that adjective?) Here are some quotes:

"Professor Huxley, in one of his clever phrases, called the Salvation Army 'corybantic Christianity.' Huxley was the last and noblest of those Stoics who have never understood the Cross. If he had understood Christianity he would have known that there never has been, and never can be, any Christianity that is not corybantic."

"Christmas remains to remind us of those ages, whether Pagan or Christian, when the many acted poetry instead of the few writing it. In all the winter in our woods there is no tree in glow but the holly."

"[Omar] and those he has influenced do not see that if we are to be truly gay, we must believe that there is some eternal gaiety in the nature of things. We cannot enjoy thoroughly even a pas-de-quatre at a subscription dance unless we believe that the stars are dancing to the same tune. No one can be really hilarious but the serious man. 'Wine,' says the Scripture, 'maketh glad the heart of man,' but only of the man who has a heart. The thing called high spirits is possible only to the spiritual. Ultimately a man cannot rejoice in anything except the nature of things. Ultimately a man can enjoy nothing except religion. Once in the world's history men did believe that the stars were dancing to the tune of their temples, and they danced as men have never danced since. . . .Dionysus and his church was grounded on a serious joie-de-vivre like that of Walt Whitman. Dionysus made wine, not a medicine, but a sacrament. Jesus Christ also made wine, not a medicine, but a sacrament. But Omar makes it, not a sacrament, but a medicine. He feasts because life is not joyful; he revels becasue he is not glad. 'Drink,' he says, 'for you know not whence you come nor why. Drink, for you know not when you go nor where. Drink, because the stars are cruel and the world as idle as a humming-top. Drink, because there is nothing worth trusting, nothing worth fighting for. Drink, because all things are lapsed in a base equality and an evil peace.' So he stands offering us the cup in his hand. And at the high altar of Christianity stands another figure, in whose hand also is the cup of the vine. 'Drink' he says 'for the whole world is as red as this wine, with the crimson of the love and wrath of God. Drink, for the trumpets are blowing for battle and this is the stirrup-cup. Drink, for this my blood of the new testament that is shed for you. Drink, for I know of whence you come and why. Drink, for I know of when you go and where."

The last one is a little long--sorry. "Corybantic" means frenzied, agitated, unrestrained, related to a priest of the Phrygian goddess Cybele whose rites were celebrated with music and ecstatic dances. I like this reminder that CHRIST brings us the joy and life of Christmas, and He does it all year round. I'm learning more about Advent this year, and for the first time that anticipation I already feel for the Christmas celebrations is critically linked to an awareness of the waiting, of the repentance and anticipation before Christ comes. In the last quote, Chesterton uses the term "stirrup cup." According to wikipedia, that is the parting drink hosts give to their guests as they are leaving. I have been frustrated with some things this week, little life lessons that are chipping at my rough edges and forcing me to choose between the path I want at the moment and the higher road. I keep reminding myself that this is a process. It's a life-long process of me getting somewhere, me becoming something. Celebrate! We're moving up!