Moving Soon!

Hooray! We have some furniture actually IN THE HOUSE now (the pieces we bought with the house are back inside from their temporary storage on the enclosed porch), and we expect to move the rest of our furniture by the end of this weekend. We could actually have Easter in our new home!

There's still a lot of work to do, of course, as there will be for several years to come. The baby's room is still in a woefully unfinished stage, as it is not immediately essential. The trim--baseboards, window, door, etc.--has yet to be stripped, painted, and replaced. The new half bathroom is only an unfinished little square--without drywall, even--and the master bath is replete with tacky metallic wallpaper. The kitchen--well, that's not on the agenda yet.

Nevertheless, the walls and floors and lights are ready in our bedroom, the living room, and the dining room. The master bath has a temporary shower in place. The kitchen, vintage 1950's, is functional. And that is all we really need.

For many reasons, we are ready to move. The decrease in Kevin's commute time will literally cut our gas budget by at least 50%, if not more. Proximity to his workplace will also make it easy for me to have the car when I need it for grocery shopping and such during the day, instead of making Kevin go with me in the evenings. It will be so much easier to work on the house when we have a little time, rather than needing to set aside hours or days to go over there. There will only be one utility bill. And, last but not least, it's almost SPRING, and I want to PLANT things!

Here are a few pictures of the latest progress:

Flowers in the Backyard, almost ready to bloom



New Closet doors for the New Closet in the MBR



New Shower





Our New-Used Furniture, not yet cleaned of construction dust





Just to keep things in perspective--the gaping hole in the Baby's Room



Could that, perhaps, be a safety hazard???

The Great Thing About Wood Floors Is. . .

they make excellent cutting guides!

I was cutting some fabric this afternoon. While I do have a rotary cutter and mat, they were inconvenient for my task. However, I do not trust myself to cut a long straight line with scissors. What to do?

Wood floors to the rescue! The slight grooves between the boards are just perfect to guide my scissor tips, providing a perfectly straight line for my now-perfectly-rectangular fabric. Genius!

Gracious Betrayal

My newfound similarities with the shirefolk prompted an urge to watch the Tolkien movies again--and to read the books, but I am determined to finish Paradise Lost first. So, in the past couple weeks, we've watched the first two of the trilogy. And I was thinking. . .

(Of course, Tolkien's series are rich in analogies to life, and perhaps this one isn't new. Nevertheless, I'll share it.)

In The Two Towers, Frodo and Sam are captured by men from Gondor. Gollum, serving as their guide to Mordor, is (initially) not. Hungry for fresh fish, however, he goes fishing in the "forbidden pool" outside the soldiers' caves. Rather than see him killed, Frodo confesses that Gollum is bound to serve him and then tricks Gollum into being captured.

Gollum, understandably, is furious at Frodo's betrayal. He does not know that his life has been spared, only that at Frodo's persuasion, he has fallen into captivity and abuse. The trust that he had developed in Frodo's good intentions toward him is dissolved, and, shortly thereafter, he hatches his plan to lead Frodo and Sam to their deaths.

We are sometimes in Gollum's position, happily going about our business--as Gollum is playfully enjoying the water and the prospect of fresh food--when we are jerked up short. We may be caught by pain or temptation or an unpleasant situation. And, like Gollum, we turn reproachfully upon our Master as if he had betrayed us--never realizing that, in subjecting us to the circumstance, He has saved our lives.

If Gollum had seen clearly enough to know Frodo's heart, to know the sympathy and kindness Frodo intended toward him, he would not have turned against him. He might have been confused, and certainly dismayed, but not bitter. Likewise, if we know our Father well enough to know His unconditional love for us, we cannot rail against the difficulties He allows us to endure. Although we may not understand how, we know that He is saving not only our lives, but our eternal souls.

I Confess to Being Conservative

At the risk of annoying some, I share this quote from John Derbyshire on The Corner on National Review Online.

The entire problem with healthcare is that it's a risk-reward curve. How far do you want to (or: can afford to) let people go along the curve? About 95 percent of the healthcare that people need can perfectly well be supplied by nursing assistants with a couple of years' training, or Third World providers like the ones I discussed. When you climb up into the remaining five percent, you are in the zone where real doctors and expensive equipment are needed. Keep going and you enter the zone of million-dollar drugs, teams of specialists, experimental technology, and months of intensive care. A billionaire can of course travel all the way along the curve. Should the rest of us be able to? Our system is organized around the answer "yes." This is probably untenable. Sooner or later you're going to die. Get used to it.

I grant that this ends a bit harshly. And I grant that I do not know enough to readily offer a solution to our current healthcare conundrum. However, I submit that, without many of our subsidized programs, the demand for expensive treatments would lessen, driving costs down--which would, in turn, increase the demand and restore some sort of market balance to the system. Just a thought.

Have you read this?

It is not often I see a book of contemporary fiction that truly interests me. My book-sense, I believe, is irrevocably married to the classics. This post from Wittingshire, however, begged investigation. And further investigation begs to read the book, which is classified as being in the tradition of the Brontes and du Maurier (hence, true to my classics-love).

It's called The Thirteenth Tale and is by Briton Diane Setterfield. The biography quote that first demanded by attention? "I'm used to living a really quiet life with lots of space to think. I'm not used to being so busy and social and meeting all these people. It's not that I'm anti-social, just that I like my own company, and I've been living with people who aren't real for the past few years – I find real people a lot more demanding."

Check out the book's promotional website (there's a link on the Wittingshire page)--it's wonderfully Gothic.

*Blink*

Please explain to me how some states prosecute unlicensed daycare providers and some states pay them--even if their only claim to provider status is providing daycare for a family member--and want to force them to form a union, so they can bargain for more pay and benefits. Benefits!?!

Will I get a state paycheck for staying home with our baby? I mean, if grandmas can be paid for childcare, why not moms?

By Popular Demand

For all of you clamoring to observe my progression to a larger-than-average waistline. . .here's your first glimpse.

A Hearty Laugh

I'm not sure I buy the distinct inner dichotomy Mr. Fea depicts here, but the opening paragraph is good for a laugh.

Can Presbyterians fall in love? Okay, everyone falls in love, but when people think of Presbyterians they normally conjure up images of stoic Protestants whose kids eat oatmeal and memorize the Westminster Confession of Faith. Reverend Maclean, the Montana minister and father figure played by Tom Skerritt in A River Runs Through It, comes to mind. Presbyterians don't "fall" in love—they rationally, and with good sense, ease themselves into it.

Presbyterians in Love, by John Fea

Thoughts from Milton

When we read Milton's Paradise Lost--excerpts, I think--in college, I remember being annoyed that the professor discussed Milton's depiction of Satan as a pitiful figure, a character deserving of sympathy. It struck me as sacrilegious to view the demon as anything more than pure evil, deserving of the torment promised him. Reading Milton now on my own, however, I wonder if the professor intended to communicate (whether the breakdown was on his part or mine) Milton's success in humanizing Satan. That is, Satan's soliloquies open to me the dangerous likeness of my own sinful heart--not, I hope, to create sympathy for him, but to issue warning for me.

This quote is an example. In this passage, Satan is discoursing with himself on his fall from grace. I note that the subjection of gratitude, to God who has graciously given all things to us who merit none, is also our duty--and that the temptation to resent that duty as a burden is also a human one. I like how the quote ends, acknowledging that what we may be tempted to call a burden is really nothing like--and belying Milton's unusual depiction of an eloquent and, perhaps, pitiable devil with Satan's orthodox rejection of his own delusion.

. . . lifted up so high
I'sdained subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burdensome still paying, still to owe;
Forgetful what from him I still received,
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged; what burden then?
Book IV, Lines 49-57

Finished Floors

The floors were sanded and finished this weekend; here are the pictures.

Our room, with primed walls waiting for paint.


The dining room


The living room


A bit of a close-up


. . .and, us.

Hobbit Hunger

I have a strong suspicion that I'm turning into a hobbit. I only hope my feet don't get hairy.

The reason? My predisposition to eat and this, from the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings:
"And laugh they [hobbits] did, and eat, and drink, often and heartily, being fond. . .of six meals a day (when they could get them)."

And this, from the movie The Fellowship of the Ring:
"Aragorn: Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall.
Pippin: What about breakfast?
Aragorn: You've already had it.
Pippin: We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?
[Aragorn turns and walks off in disgust]
Merry: I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.
Pippin: What about elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?
Merry: I wouldn't count on it."

Pocket Full of Posies

Tea Posies, that is. Kevin gave me a fun Tea Posy teapot and tea for Christmas, and I've never gotten around to sharing pictures. I made tea for myself this morning, however (it's snowy, icy, rainy, and dreary here. . .perfect tea weather), so here are some fun pictures of the process.

Step One: Teapot and Unopened Posy
Step Two: Opened Posy in the Pot

Step Three: Add boiling water and watch it unfurl!

Step Four: Allow several minutes to steep. As this blend steeps, the posy "snows."

Step Five: After finishing the tea, refill with cold water as a floral centerpiece for 2 or 3 days

Colored Walls

The lighting and computer media combine to make getting a good sense of color somewhat difficult, but here are the now-painted dining room and living room pictures.

Today, I Went for a Walk

It's a beautiful 72 degrees here, sunny, breezy, and utterly un-February-like. I've just returned from an enjoyable half-hour stroll about the neighborhood. Tomorrow, the high is 45.

Kevin, off today in honor of our 1st and 16th presidents (Whatever would we have done if their birthdays had been in, say, January and September???), is painting our new house with the help of some men from church. So far, progress reports indicate that the muted gray-blue we chose for the dining room is really more of a lilac. Oops.

The choice of bold colors (bold meaning anything not of palest pale hue) comes with added risk, I suppose. Hopefully the other colors are closer to what we think they are--especially the living room, since it opens into the dining room and the colors will be juxtaposed. I'll post pictures when I get them.

I'm afraid that's all the interesting news I can think of presently. It's time for second lunch. And I'm not even a hobbit.

Sovereignty

The sovereignty of God is an immensely comforting thing when I am fearful or worried--but it can also be one of the hardest things to understand when things do not go well. I suppose this is very much related to a couple other recent posts, but it is just such a huge part of my thought these past few months--since I bowed my resistant will to the Biblical idea of predestination, I suppose.

At any rate, this post by Doug Wilson, a big name in Reformed circles, talks about the sovereignty of our Lord and His bringing of things to His good pleasure. It is not about predestination, but about the lordship of God over daily life. My favorite passage is this:

Our God does as He pleases in the good things, in the pleasant things. This is an important mark of our piety -- we must always remember to thank God for our food, and drink, and marital love, and health -- the continued list of blessings is greater than we can even imagine. But our duties here are also obvious. For what we receive, we do give thanks.

But God also does as He pleases in the hard things. We live in a world where wicked things happen, and we profess to serve a good God who is omnipotent. Be a thinking Christian and stand up to the implications. The heart of our faith, the center of our faith, is the death of Jesus Christ, which was nothing less than a predestinated murder (Acts 2:22-24; 4:27-28). And yet it was the greatest act of love our world ever saw. How can a murder be an act of envy and hatred from one agent, and an act of love from the orchestrating, predestining Agent? While we are not able to do the math, we know that this is true because Scriptures tell us.

World

I read from World on the Web a lot, especially from the WorldMag Blog section, as you've probably noticed if you follow any of the links I post. Today, there is a short piece about our prayers, and what they reveal about our attitude toward God.

Dreams

I've been dreaming lately--or rather, I've been remembering my dreams more lately.

One night, I dreamed I had a 9 pound baby 3 months early. I know it was 9 pounds, because I weighed myself right after birth. The scale said 168. Then I weighed myself holding the baby, and it said 177. I'm not sure why it was 3 months early (it was a natural labor and birth), but perhaps already weighing in at 9 pounds had something to do with it. Unfortunately, since it was so early, no one would believe that we hadn't conceived before our wedding. . .even though we'd been married for 3 years. There's no arguing with the logic of dreams.

Then, I had a nerd dream. This will mean nothing to most of you, but I'll try to explain it adequately. Take my word for it up front, it was a hilariously funny dream. It was a romance--between Rodney McKay from Stargate Atlantis and Deanna Troi from Star Trek, the Next Generation. If you are a Sci-Fi nerd, enough said. For all of you normal people, McKay is the archetypical genius scientist--arrogant, self-absorbed, and utterly oblivious to the feelings of those around him. Troi, on the other hand, is half Betazoid--a species that is able to sense the emotions of those nearby. Consequently, she is sensitive and understanding to the extreme that Rodney is not. If you can't imagine why THAT made for a hilarious dream. . .well, nevermind then.

Explanation

Obviously, I'm spending a good bit of time on the computer these days--hence the sudden spike in posts. It's partially due to laziness (a condition not helped by the fact that I've lost at least a third of my brain mass through sneezing the past 3 days), and partially due to my affinity for the warmth of the laptop. It's not that cold, of course. I just like heat.

At any rate, that's why you suddenly have lots of my rambling thoughts to read. But now I'm actually going somewhere, so I'll have to leave the computer for a while.

Ode to Food Habits from My Parents

Baked potatoes are my new favorite food. I'm getting close to having consumed a dozen in the space of 3 weeks. I eat them for lunch, mostly. It's not that I can't eat other foods--it's just that baked potatoes appeal to me. So I bake, and I eat.

Unfortunately, there are two downsides. The first is that potatoes take an hour to bake, so I have to think ahead--and sometimes even thinking ahead doesn't net me a soft potato by the time I'm famished. This, however, is not a major setback. Of greater importance is that the flesh of a potato is mostly starch--which is not high on the nutritional priority list for pregnant women. Fortunately, family food habits help to make up for this a bit.

From my father, I learned to eat baked potatoes piled high with. . .cottage cheese. I thought this was normal, until 2 or 3 people over the past week have given me strange responses. At any rate, it was normal in our house. Thus, my baked potato is filled with more calcium and less fat than it would otherwise be, were I to use grated cheddar and sour cream.

From my mother, I learned to like potato skins, bastions of antioxidants and other things of nutritional benefit. In fact, I usually eat them as a sort of second course, with a small second round of toppings, which helps again with the calcium and such.

Thus, my lunch is not solely starch, and I shall continue to bake and eat. Ode to the parents.

A Personal Post, or Sometimes God Says "Yes"

As believers--and sometimes as non-believers, too--we all ask God for things. Those things vary in importance, actual and perceived. We breathe impromptu prayers for clear traffic or a good hair day; we send frequent repeated requests up for a good job or a healthy relative. Often those prayers are answered the way we like. Often they are not. When traffic snarls or a good hair day goes bad, we rarely give those "unanswered" prayers a second thought. When a family is unprovided for or a child dies, we wrestle with doubts, questions, fears, and God.
Time, in retrospect, passes quickly. When you are in the midst of it, however, not knowing how or when or if it will end, it is long. For some time now, we have prayed for children. The struggles of friends--with infertility, with the loss of a child, with other difficulties--kept me ever mindful that fruitfulness is not a right. It is not a guarantee. Children are a privilege and a gift. Although we do not understand the reasons, it seems that God graciously blesses some couples with children and--just as graciously, if we accept that God continually provides for our good--withholds them them from other couples. Sometimes the couples desperately desiring children seem far more deserving than those to whom God gives children. From where I sit, it isn't fair.
Recognizing that, I could not make the assumption that we would, of course, have children. Instead, I have prayed for grace to accept His will with grace. I have expended much time and effort preparing myself for the possibility that God would not choose to bless us with biological children. I contemplated a future filled with things other than children. We discussed adoption. Along the way, many babies have been born. The pregnancies of many friends I have greeted with sincere gladness, a few I have genuinely and angrily railed against. Reaching out to friends with babies helped me not grow hard, even while it sometimes brought pain. Hurting with friends who have had child-related sorrows reminded me constantly that children are a gift, not a guarantee. In my anxiety to readily "accept good from God" as well as "adversity," I almost convinced myself that we would not be able to have children of our own, and I struggled to turn in faith to Christ.
Last autumn, it finally seemed that peace had arrived to stay. Even with the prospect of denial, I knew God's grace was sufficient for whatever would come. In this one area, I accepted with contentment the reality that, sometimes, God says "No." I had a day or two of revisiting the battle, but for several months life was settled. God is good, His plan is good, and I can trust Him.

Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, "Yes." A positive pregnancy test left me reeling. . .really in a state of mild shock. For so long I had wrestled with having a godly response to God's "No," I was completely unprepared for the possibility of a "Yes!"
You think that getting what you want is the easy course, certainly. There's not the need to prepare to receive good from God in faith as there is to accept trouble with the same faith, or so we think. But in the face of many who are still hurting, desiring children, I find myself unable to carelessly move on.

Do not misunderstand. We are thrilled with this blessing. God has been good to us, and I am filled with gratitude. But I cannot shrug off the heaviness of many who are still waiting, or who have received "no," after "no," after "no." It is not guilt, but awareness of how undeserving I am of every blessing God gives. I cannot comprehend why God answers some prayers one way and some another, to utter disregard of what seems good to us. I do not believe it is a measure of our faith, our obedience, our godliness. While God is "no respecter of persons," He did not promise we should all have the same trials, or the same blessings. I see no recourse but to trust God's providence and omniscience, unless it is to devolve into bitterness and anger. If we were not currently expecting, I would still be undeserving of His many blessings. God would still be good.
That is easy for me to say, sitting in the realm of granted prayer. I know. But I said it 5 months ago, just as certainly, not knowing what answer this particular prayer would eventually receive or when that answer might come.
For some there will be irony in me sharing this now, and perhaps a shadow is cast on my credibility. We do not have all the answers, and I hope I would not presume to lecture someone else in the midst of a similar trial. But this is where we have been. I did not share before, because I did not want to answer the personal questions it might have engendered. It was still too close to home. This has been a difficult learning period for me. And, while I do not doubt I shall have to be reminded and even re-taught in the future, it has been a lesson worth learning.
The third verse of a hymn we sang in worship this past Sunday is fitting. The hymn is O Father, You Are Sovereign, by Margaret Clarkson.

O Father, you are sovereign, the Lord of human pain,
transmuting earthly sorrows to gold of heav'nly gain.
All evil overruling, as none but Conqu'ror could,
your love pursues its purpose--our souls' eternal good.

Sabbath

This is about. . .rest, and forgiving oneself, and gratitude for the blessings we have. To explain too much will only be to reword what has already been powerfully well-written. It's not long. Go read it.

Thomas Kinkade

If you're a big Kinkade fan, you probably don't want to read this. It is, however, a better-than-I-could-voice explanation of why we're not big fans. If you do read it, be sure to read the comments as well. They moderate the tone of the post a bit.

Yes, we are

expecting.

Here is the fabric for the nursery!

Don't ask why the frogs are sideways. The Mac is not cooperating.


Coordinating green:


Solids for a quilt:


The walls are going to be a pale orange color, and the carpet is as of yet of unknown hue. . .perhaps a pale yellow.

"Chance"

A news article and its comments led me to do a little statistical research, out of curiosity. This is what I found.

It may shock you to know that all U.S. women have a 43% chance of having an abortion before they turn 45.
(from Adoption Information)

A 43% CHANCE??? Is that like the chance I have of being involved in an automobile accident through no fault of my own? Or the chance I have of developing a chronic disease? Or maybe it's like the chance I have of being the victim of a crime.

Seriously.

Let me spell this out. Chance carries with it the connotation of inevitability. It is something that happens randomly, that cannot be controlled. Check the dictionary. Denotatively, absolutely, chance can mean probability, which carries a more neutral connotation of the relative frequency of a particular event. Unless you're reading a word problem from an eighth grade math book, however, chance is not typically used in that way. It's something accidental, unexpected, unpredictable. Hence, we have games of chance, coincidences that happen by chance, and, as chance would have it.

It may shock you, but I do not have a 43% chance of having an abortion before I turn 45. Because abortion is not something that happens randomly, unpredictably, inevitably. It is something people choose. I can see how those "ch" words could be confusing. But, in spite of the likelihood of pro-abortion advocates preferring to consider themselves as being "pro-chance," friendly neighborhood support staff to those women forced through an abortion by uncaring fate, the term is and should be "pro-choice."

And THAT is my soapbox for the day.

Our Old House

Finally, some pictures from the last 2 weeks of work at our house! Work is progressing steadily, and we're excited to see walls up again.

The artifacts found in our walls the first week, an 1898 book on the American colonies and a 1912 book of nursery rhymes among other miscellaneous things:


Kevin, drilling a path for new electrical wire:


Wires run up to the attic for future remodeling:


Drywall completed in the dining room and living room, ready to be taped and mudded:


Our new closet in the front bedroom:

Pachelbel, Again

If you don't already know, I have very strong feelings regarding appropriate renditions and uses of Pachelbel's Canon in D. Pachelbel does not deserve to have his masterpiece abused as it often is.
I cannot decide, however, what exactly to say about this.

Bit of News

We've been busy on the weekends remodeling--and then recuperating in time for Monday. I have some pictures on the camera. Maybe I'll even post them.

I've started subbing a day or two a week in the county school system. So far, it's been typical. I'm trying to concentrate my efforts in one middle school of extraordinarily convenient location, hoping to become at least a recognized presence. So far, the teachers and administrators have been extremely supportive and helpful, which is always a good sign for a sub attempting to maintain some level of control and respect. When the regular faculty and staff obviously have your back, the students are much more likely to cooperate.

Being back in the school system reminds me both of what I love about teaching--namely, the teaching of material to and the varied interaction with growing people--and also why I was eager to leave. I'm enjoying the little change of pace, but I am twice as thankful for my days at home. We'll keep this up until the end of the school year, perhaps, and add some funds to our remodeling cache. I do look forward to being a full-time SAHW again. The weekly bread-making is already suffering some from my 2-day a week absence.

The Homemaker Tunnel

I am so far from any practical realization of this that it's ridiculous to say I want it, but somewhere, this is the light I wish I could occasionally glimpse at the end of the "becoming a perfect homemaker" tunnel.

Demolition

Last Saturday, our church turned out to tear down walls in our new house. I wasn't there, but Kevin said almost 20 people came! They got all the sheetrock off and started insulating and re-wiring. Apparently, all the wiring in the walls was still the original knob and tube, so we're glad it's going away. (For all you post-1920-people, that's live, bare wire wrapped around ceramic knobs at connection points and put through ceramic tubes in the studs. Not the safest idea, even if it did work well for many years.) The drywall (All but one room turned out NOT to be lathe and plaster.) was patented in 1912. They found an 1898 American history textbook and a 1912 children's storybook in the walls, as well as a pile of old razorblades. There are some pictures of the date on the drywall and the destruction in general below.






This Saturday, they're coming back to finish the rebuilding. Then we'll have walls again, this time with insulation and up-to-code electrical wiring.

Last week, I and another lady sent crock pots with lunch for the men. This morning, a different woman in the church e-mailed and asked if she could help provide lunch for this Saturday. We expected to provide food for everyone ourselves; it's a small thing in comparison to what is being done. But people continue to share, and I will be the first to admit that preparing food for 20 working appetites is a job for any one person.

I am, quite simply, speechlessly overwhelmed at the generosity and kindness of these people. To give up 2 Saturdays with their families to remodel a home for people they as yet barely know is--well, it's what the Church should be, but often isn't. I could not have imagined a better Body of Christ.

There is so much more that should be said, but words don't convey enough. I am thankful for the abundant blessings we've found here.

MORNING

Good Morning. It's not yet 8 o'clock on this chilly Saturday in Maryland. Yet, so far, I've:
baked 18 muffins
eaten 1 of those muffins
scrambled eggs, twice
eaten scrambled eggs, once
cut 9 carrots and a whole package of celery into sticks
cut 12 small oranges into wedges
made 1 gallon of lemonade
gone to the grocery store
packaged said items (minus the scrambled eggs, but plus a whole lot of stuff I don't feel like listing) into the car
seen 4 people off to their day's activities.

And this is in addition to being up until midnight last night baking cookies and shredding barbecued beef for demolition-day lunch.

Nobody told me being a homeowner was like spontaneously becoming the mother of 8.

Overdue Pictures

We're back home after our holiday travels and have busy remodeling plans for the next 2 or 3 weeks. Here are a few random house pictures we took earlier in December that I never managed to post.

The first meal in our new home


Ambience: the glowing, crackling, electric fire


Can of Fire Extinguisher found in the kitchen


Peeking at the wood floors


Kenmore sewing machine that hopefully still works


Kevin, removing trim in preparation for demolition day

The Aberrancy in Politics

I can't help it. Hopeless though I think some of his positions are. . .and futile as his candidacy likely is. . .I like Ron Paul. Enough to desperately hope I find a way to vote for him, however inevitable his doom may be. And I thoroughly enjoyed this article.

Merry Christmas!

This is a quote from a Spurgeon sermon that I am copying from our church newsletter. There isn't a date, but the title of the sermon is "Mary's Song," and it's based on Luke 1:46-47.

"Observe, this morning, the sacred joy of Mary that you may imitate it. This is a season when all men expect us to be joyous. We compliment each other with the desire that we may have a "Merry Christmas." Some Christians who are a little squeamish, do not like the word "merry." It is a right good old Saxon word, having the joy of childhood and the mirth of manhood in it, it brings before one's mind the old song of the waits, and the midnight peal of bells, the holly and the blazing log. I love it for its place in that most tender of all parables, where it is written, that, when the long-lost prodigal returned to his father safe and sound, "They began to be merry." This is the season when we are expected to be happy; and my heart's desire is, that in the highest and best sense, you who are believers may be "merry." Mary's heart was merry within her; but here was the mark of her joy, it was all holy merriment, it was every drop of it sacred mirth. It was not such merriment as worldlings will revel in to-day and to-morrow, but such merriment as the angels have around the throne, where they sing, "Glory to God in the highest," while we sing "On earth peace, goodwill towards men." Such merry hearts have a continual feast. I want you, ye children of the bride-chamber, to possess to-day and to-morrow, yea, all your days, the high and consecrated bliss of Mary, that you may not only read her words, but use them for yourselves, ever experiencing their meaning: "My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior."

**On an unrelated note, this is (sadly) my 79th post of the year, ruining my chance for a 78-78-78 annual total during the 3 year existence of this blog. Oh well. Merry Christmas anyway.

It's Official

Yesterday, we received keys to our very own house. It's official. We own a home.

Already, the work has begun. :-)

Pictures to follow.

Not New, but Timeless

I've probably posted this before. If not, I should have. But I came across it again today, and had to post it (again). It might be my all-time favorite poem--and prayer. If you haven't read it before (I realize not everyone is an English geek like me), don't rush through it. Absorb the analogies--a city, a marriage--and the paradoxes, and really let it soak in.

“Batter My Heart, Three-Person’d God,” by John Donne

Batter my heart, three-person’d God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp’d town to’another due,
Labor to’admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly’I love you, and would be lov’d fain,
But am betroth’d unto your enemy;
Divorce me,’untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you’enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Weekend at Assateague

We spent Saturday at Chincoteague and Assateague parks on the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Virginia. This is where the famous wild ponies are, as well as a wide assortment of shore birds and various other wildlife. It was chilly, but beautiful.

This lighthouse was originally built on the south end of the island in 1833, and was about 45 feet tall. Still, with only small oil lamps, it reached something like 15 miles out to sea. Rebuilt at triple the height in 1867 and eventually refitted with an electric light, it will now reach 22 land miles. However, it is no longer on the southernmost part of the island; storms have rebuilt and reshaped the island until the lighthouse is now more inland than on the shore, and there is a sizable southern hook that did not exist when the lighthouse was built.



Holly trees are common here.


A crane was fishing while we watched.


On the Maryland end of the island, the ponies run free and may be on the trails, roads, parking lots, or, if you're camping, in your tent. Signs everywhere warn not to touch them; they bite! Most of them look pregnant, but the visitors' center information says they are only bloated from feeding on salt marsh grasses, which they do 18 hours of every day.


This is a Delmarva Peninsula Fox Squirrel, an endangered species the Chincoteague Park is helping to re-populate.


The visitors' centers were really well-designed. I found this display particularly. . .catchy.


We walked out to an observation deck to watch the sunset over the bay.

Do You Know Earth?

I got to Level 6 the first time I played, with a score somewhere in the 170'000's. In subsequent attempts, I've gotten up to Level 10. How do you rank?

Geography Game

More Thanksgiving

We downloaded pictures from Kevin's parents' cameras last night, so here are a few more Turkey Day pictures.

Black Friday, after Kevin left for work:

The food table, once it was complete:

Just before the feast:

Dessert!