Autumn

being abandoned on the surface of the sun, this is when my heart hurts the most. i miss

color leaves apple orchards cider mills cold mornings frost on the grass frisky frollicking ponies smell of dead leaves and fir fires and smoke stark branches against morning sky crisp sunsets virginia shenandoah hills riding bareback on a cold day against a warm horse leaf raking parties sweaters apple picking baking berry pies soup outside ponies bike rides

i miss my ponies all year round, but this time of year most especially. i love riding with the sound of crunching leaves, when the "girls" have that extra autumn "zip."
also virginia, and this is how i feel towards it; i sing this song to it:



my deepest parts bleed the prayer that next year i will be living amidst a true autumn. please God.

intimate strangers

life seems to be easier in autumn.
even here, where there is not much in the way of foliage, and things turn a rich, lush, transient green with hurricane rains before succumbing suddenly to a dry winter brown, the cooler winds, the thunderstorms, and mild nights dull the edge of the sweltering summer heat.
family in all of its forms is a funny thing, and has been weighing on my mind lately. with these random people, the ones we cannot choose and the ones that we indirectly choose through marriage, we are forced into most intimate terms, and it can be so easy to take things for granted. my own family boasts about as many different varities of personalities as one could wish to find: the social butterfly, the dreamer, the artist, the lawyer, the servant, the scholar--and any number of combinations and permutations of these qualities. it seems to me that the most difficult thing is not to take people for granted: not to assume that even those closest to you think the same way about things, and, even more so, to actively strive to understand these differences. it is one thing to accept, and something else altogether to understand. it is a fundamental premise of the most basic Christian love to accept the differences of others: it is true charity to strive to understand them, and to welcome our intimate family-strangers to our hearts precisely because they can offer the richness of perspective. it is so easy to get caught up in those circles where all one's friends think the same way, and i think it can be very difficult for us to break out of that mindset. it certainly is a challenge to our comfort zones! and can be an awkward, uncomfortable process to break away from the limits that we set for ourselves.
life is never easy, and others and the challenges they bring are the only opportunity we have to practice virtue--for it is no virtue to love the like-minded.
and with all that said . . . after watching the man from snowy river, boy do i miss my ponies more than ever!

the Silmarillion

i first started, or attempted to start, the Silmarillion in high school--i think. i read the first chapter or two several times, but for some reason, could not persevere. i began again this year or early last, determined to at least "get through" it. as i started reading Lord of the Rings for the second time this year, however, i realized that i, finally, actually *wanted* to read it. i want to know all the history of the ring, of Middle Earth, of the heros and sorrows and "great deeds not wholly vain" (more on that here). i also have been pondering for several months Tolkien's conception of heroism. there is on my bookshelf a study of Tolkien and redeeming myth, which i have yet to read, but i am excited about these things. i am excited to be thinking, analyzing, understanding. i try to explain to people that the reason i was so frustrated as a child was because i never understood anything, and i couldn't wait to grow up and understand things. (curious term, this "under-standing", as if our knowledge of things causes them to be. perhaps it is a faint echo of our feeble participation in the creative powers of God. but i digress (fancy that)).

along similar lines, i (also finally) finished a sample essay on Northanger Abbey for "my" students. but i have been thinking of Austen again, and this her first novel contains at least the seeds of nearly all her main themes: family, imagination, education, guidance and teaching, self-knowledge and virtue, and the connection to, or rather necessity for, all of these things to love--that genuine, true, deep love of one for another. she was an amazing woman, this MIss Austen. i remember when choosing a novel for my 12th grade Brit Lit research paper, my teacher cautioned us that no matter how much we loved our novel at first, we would hate the sight of it by the end of the project. thirteen years later, after the research paper, five or six years of grading half-baked essays on it, and taking a grad course on Austen, i still deeply love Pride and Prejudice, to which my guardian angel lead me, and still discover new things in it. i need to better order my days, so that i can write on Austen. and do it now, for now is all i have.

also, i have such a sweet boy. he is so precious. new photos up on shutterfly.

the House-Band

"This is the sort of shelf on which young wives and mothers may consent to be laid, safe from the restless fret and fever of the world . . . walking side by side, through fair and stormy weather, with a faithful friend, who is, in the true sense of the good old Saxon word, the 'house-band.'"
~Little Women

and he's home! it's amazing what a difference it makes when Hubs is home. finn and momma go a little bit crazy when daddy is gone. it's a different world, a different home, when he is here to calm storms, coax stubborn boys to sleep, soothe wound-up wife, and in general provide a shelter from the storm. i thank God for him, and do not know what i would do without him!

the Privilege of Being a Woman

recently the subject has arisen vicariously of the role of women in the Church. a dear family member was becoming incensed with my brother because he disagrees that women should be priests. this position has a dual-part premise, both aspects of which are troubling, to say the least.
the first is this notion that has plagued the Church in recent decades, that the only way (or at least the main way) to "get involved" is to be in the Sanctuary. as a result, missions, sodalities, special devotions, "social justice" & outreach programs, and so forth, have largely disappeared. everyone is trying to participate in one aspect of the Priesthood of Believers: the priest "proper". even the choir often tries to get as close to the altar as possible.
specific to women, this notion assumes one very troubling and insulting thing: that the role of woman qua woman is insufficient, inferior, and even worthless. that to be a woman in the Church, with the unique gifts and roles of wife, mother, daughter, sister--physical or spiritual--is not good enough. i cannot really think of anything more insulting: what i have to offer isn't wanted, so i need to be . . . a man. since when is fatherhood superior to motherhood, physical or spiritual?
the priest exists to empower (to hijack a feminist phrase) the laity. he is there to serve the Church, so that the Church might serve the world. in recent history, however, the Church has been so busy fighting over who will serve itself that it has been neglecting the world.
women are vital to the Church. it is no coincidence that the enemies of the Church--from Luther to Cromwell to the French Revolutionaries to the Communists and so forth--have outlawed convents. their first attack is against the praying women, because these women are the life and soul and heart of the Catholic--the Universal--Church. satan has never been so successful in these attacks, however, as when he convinced the praying women themselves that their role was negligible. and as opposed to the outer attacks, which gave hope, strength, and glory to the Church through martyrdom, the whole Church has suffered--and still does--from this interior rebellion.
Alice von Hildebrand, my "hero", has written a short little book called The Privilege of Being a Woman, where she discusses the devaluing of femininity underlying feminism. Donna Steichand addresses the deliberate feminist attack on the Church in Ungodly Rage, which i highly recommend. most of all, however, we need prayer: that these wounded women, convinced that they've been shoved to the sidelines, find healing in the mysteries of the Church, in the mysteries of their own womanhood. and that we strive to fulfill our womanhood in a way that gives the lie to the feminist attacks.
Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom, Tower of Ivory, Mystical Rose, pray for us!

Sleeplessness, Saints, and Mothers, pt. II

a long, reasonably restful night last night gave way to a single one-hour nap today. that's a long time for a boy to be awake, and a long time for momma to "deal" with him on my own. not wanting another night to begin at 5.30, i managed to keep him awake a bit longer . . . and as i rocked my sleeping cuddly boy, i realized what is perhaps obvious: sleeplessness is so hard because it means a dying to self. i get tired, and selfishness literally takes over. I am tired, and I must get the sleep that I want because I deserve it, and I want to read this book and I want to work on that project and I want . . . myself to be the center of the universe. watching finn hang on the front of my trousers and whine and wail up at me, i am ashamed to think of how often, every day, i do that very thing to God.
when my sisters were younger my mum had a question she would ask when they began spatting. it was one of those "mom" questions that make one roll one's eyes in irritation, not least because one doesn't want to admit the answer. she would ask, "who is on your throne?" my priest quoted bob dylan this past weekend, from the song "gotta serve somebody." and then he reminded us that when the Cross is heaviest is when we are closest to Christ, and in fact that is the only place we can find Him.
so, if sleeplessness is my Cross right now, God help me to accept the grace that Christ offered in Gethsemane--"Can you not watch one hour with Me?" no, Lord, on my own i cannot. but what i cannot do, You can, and may Your grace always be sufficient for me.

Robinson Crusoe

this book has a bad rap, it seems, and i am not entirely certain as to why. it has adventure, ruggedness, a still-unique story, and i do not find it excessively preachy. it has a strong emphasis on Providence and finding God, but why should this be a bad thing? if literature is supposed to prepare for life, and teach through the back door--or even the side door or front door--why is this a negative? i suppose if you don't want to hear about God and His Providence, this would diminish the pleasure of it, but it seems that is a fault in the reader, not the novel. i'm currently working up an essay on Crusoe for work, and i find myself enjoying it quite a bit. they had quite a lot of wisdom, those old protestants, along with their prejudices. and who doesn't want, at least in some secret life, build an entire kingdom from nothing?

stumbling across old favourites

yes, i use british spelling. not because i want to be hoity-toity, but because it's prettier!
i recently found this album when i was reorganizing CDs, and i forgot how much i love this song. then again, it's robert burns, so what's not to love?

Sleeplessness, Saints, and Mothers

have you ever noticed that saints don't sleep? or, they sleep for about three hours a night and spend the rest of the darkness deep in prayer. they do not sleep out of choice, because their burning desire for communion with the Highest is more important than "Brother Ass." they also have near-perfect command over their bodies, so that their physical desires have ceased to have any influence over their actions or wills.
mothers don't sleep, either, but not for these reasons. mothers don't sleep because their babies decide that it's great fun to be awake and enjoying life for four hours in the middle of the night, or because children are throwing up, or because teenagers are late coming home. and being an adult, specifically a mother, means that there is no one else to take care of these things. you are the one being called upon, rather than the child calling out. and the responsibilities with their trials of sleeplessness do not end when the babies start growing up.
i was pondering these things when finn was, in fact, awake for four & half hours the other night, just chatting away, flailing himself awake whenever he started to fall asleep, making all the noises that are so cute and endearing and funny at 2 in the afternoon. funny how the perspective changes, n'est pas? and then i was thinking about saints, how they do not sleep because they are holy. mothers, on the other hand, must become holy because we cannot sleep. through sleeplessness to God!