Hallelujah!

Here's one of the many (and, in the scheme of things, less important) reasons I love my church. It is our tradition to do a sing-a-long of the Hallelujah Chorus to close the Easter service. I'm playing the flute in our tiny ad-hoc orchestra, and That Guy is the one in the light green shirt toward the edge of the bass section (on your right) who is not looking at his music. He, of course, still has the bass part memorized seven (eight?) years after learning it. Considering we do this once a year and never rehearse (okay, the choir, all two dozen of us, sings it through a couple of times), we sound pretty good.


Hallelujah Chorus from ClearNote Church on Vimeo.

After this, the men tore down the rest of the chairs in about three minutes flat, and we had our Easter feast, another reason I love these people.

Saturday morning at our place

Me: We should have a waterproof thesaurus.
Him: A what?
Me: A waterproof thesaurus.
Him: A waterproof thesaurus?
Me: So we can look words up in the shower.
Him: Oh, I thought you were talking about a dinosaur.

Falling in Love

So, it's been a while!  I actually did some serious writing yesterday--trains and planes seem to bring that out in me, so I may have something to post shortly.  I've also been planning to do this post as a "Friday Favorite," but I couldn't resist one day early.

A number of sweet ladies of my acquaintance have posted on their blogs about about their courtship/dating/engagement/marriage.  They delight me.

"51 Weeks":  Start at the bottom and read up. Rebekah's most recent post is the one that finally made me post.

If we were to separate? If I had to say goodbye? If my future didn't include him? Oh God, I would feel like part of me had died, I truly would. My chest hurt just thinking about it.

I remember that moment.

Summer Harms: You'll have to do a little searching to find the entire tale, but Summer's got a lovely account of her penpal courtship. I remember this one! I was there the summer they started dating and had no idea they had been corresponding, or even really knew each other. It was Summer's first summer on staff. So when they kept disappearing together, I was really confused. Was something going on? Did Summer just have an irresistible crush and couldn't stop following Grant around (it wouldn't have been the first time!)? Then they started officially dating and it was too cute.

Breeding Lilacs: This is adorable, but the real reason I love it is that her first skiing lesson was pretty much exactly like mine.

He gave me a few general guidelines, let me practice stopping once or twice, then took me up the lift: no lessons, no bunny slope–nothing. And it was incredible! I made it down the first run without falling once, though I must admit that I screamed (half delight/half terror) all the way to the bottom.
Zach stayed with me the whole day. He kept behind me, even though I’m sure my beginner’s pace was painfully slow for him. He helped me up when I fell (for the beginner’s luck on that first run didn’t last all day). And when I really wiped out and sent a ski sliding down the mountain ahead of me, he went ahead to fetch it and then trudged up the slope in his ski boots to return it to me: no easy task.

A Silver Cord: I didn't get married during college, but I did leave college a semester early to do so, so I know a little bit about the feelings Sarah experienced.  This is a phrase I definitely heard quite a bit: "Wow, you're amazing, I could never do that."

And finally, One True Word.  This is actually more of a reflection on Rebekah's story, but it gave me comfort. While I love reading happy romantic love stories, like Joy, mine is "too sad and frustrating" to want to write about. I thought that it would have turned into a good story by now, but every time I go back to look at the writing and e-mails I did at the time, it's still painful. Maybe some day.

What a night

Last night at 11, That Guy left to take a friend home after dinner. He called me to say they had seen a car accident and would be delayed, so I read for a while and then went to bed. At midnight, my phone rang. It was T.G.

I was a little groggy, but I woke up right away when he said, "There's blood in my hair."

A young woman had rolled her car over on a residential street. They called 911, some neighbors came to see what was going on, and no one touched the girl.  Everyone knows you're not supposed to move an injured person in that kind of situation.

Then they noticed that there was gas leaking onto the street, and something in the car was smoking.  Neither the police nor an ambulance had arrived. The little crowd of people decided it was time to act.

But T.G. had to beg them five times to actually help him.  He unbuckled her seatbelt and lifted her out of the car. He tried to turn the car off, but it was still in gear and he didn't want to touch the shifter, which was gory.  "I could see her skull," he told me.

The girl was conscious and speaking (though not coherent) by the time they took her away.  One of the neighbors let T.G. in to wash up. The neighbor had a large, friendly dog and a pack of cigarettes, which was the perfect combination to keep T.G. from going to pieces in the aftermath.

Meanwhile, three states away, my mother was sitting with her father, who was dying. He left us about 1 in the morning to see his Lord and his wife.

If anyone knows if the girl is all right, we'd love to find out.  Grandpa's better than he's been in years.

Happy Valentine's Day

For Valentine's Day, here's one of my favorite love songs:



See also:
Sara Groves, Fly
Jason G[r]ay, The Dance (good luck finding a recording of that one!)
MAE, The Everglow
Fauré, Notre Amour
 

Friday favorites

In college I fell in with a fantasy-reading, strategy-game-playing, sci-fi-loving crowd, and the (relatively) obscure TV show of choice was, naturally, Firefly.

 

Thanks for that, Mal. Having been inducted into the cult of Whedon, That Guy and I eventually ended up watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All of it. And then Angel, too. Admittedly, it sounds like the worst teen soap set-up ever: cheerleader prevents the apocalypse by killing demons while navigating the social miasma known as high school.

But then there are the lovable characters, the world's coolest librarian, the Shakespeare references ("we few, we happy few, we band of buggered"), and the surprisingly good musical episode "Once More with Feeling."

And it's always fun to watch with a classicist. Ancient languages are a key ingredient, and according to this guy with a blog (a reliable source, I'm sure), translation was done by students in the classics program at UCLA. Pronunciation of said translations is mostly terrible.

Books and book-learning are important in the series. Despite Willow's hacking abilities, many episodes, especially in the early seasons, involve the Scooby Gang hitting up Giles' library for research after Buffy encounters a new threat. They do do a bit of internet research, mostly on a database called "Demons, Demons, Demons," but ancient books are their weapon of choice. There's also a great moment referencing the power of words in season four:

Riley: These spells, these really work? I mean, can you really "turn your enemies inside out"? Or "learn to excrete gold coins"?

Anya: That one's not so much fun.

Willow: They work, Riley. But they take concentration, being attuned with the forces of the universe.

Xander: Right. You can't just go "librum incendere" and expect...
[Xander's book bursts into flames and he slams it shut, extinguishing it]

Giles: [wearily] Xander, don't speak Latin in front of the books. 

Buffy and I both love giant books

BONUS: Buffy led me to this fascinating blog on classics in pop culture.

Friday [sic] Favorites

First I didn't know what to write about, but then the mail came.  Now I'm totally frustrated because I can't post the photo I want!  So you all get a link today: The Pleated Tartan Plaid Shirtdress from Lands' End Canvas.  Oh wow.  I ordered both colors and it's possibly the most adorable dress ever.  And it's on sale.  And it has POCKETS. 

Unless you are female (and if you're not, you've probably given up reading this already anyway), you cannot possibly understand how awesome usable pockets in dresses are.  They are AWESOME.

My blue shirtdress and I will see you at church tomorrow.  Black shoes or brown?  There's black in the plaid, but the tartan just gives me a brown vibe.  Hmmm.

The sky co-opted my blog topic

I picked up The Essential Calvin and Hobbes last night for a bit of bedtime reading and pondered this cartoon, ruminating on the parallel between it and my relationship to Indiana weather. 





Calvin is me; Hobbes is the Indiana weather, which is always promising snow, but never really delivering.  I was thinking of writing a blog post about how Indiana, lacking a true winter season, does not deserve the "Midwest" label.

Naturally, when I opened the door and stepped on to the stoop this morning, my ballet flats were overcome by three inches of newly-fallen snow. I was forced to retreat in search of boots.

Friday Favorites

This will (possibly) become a regular feature.  Things I love this week:

Summer Harms—my inspiration for all "things-I-like"-type lists.  We worked together for a couple of summers, she married one of my childhood crushes (wait, did I just admit that?), and now she's pregnant with the newest mini-Harms.  Awwwwww.  Anyway, she inspires me to try new recipes and clean the house.

Lace knitting patterns by Herbert Niebling—Google him!  This guy wrote the most beautiful knitted lace patterns.  Here's a tiny little section of the only doily I've finished so far.  It's two feet in diameter, in peach-colored silk, and I almost couldn't bear to part with it.  But it was a wedding present, so off it went!

Fountain pens and my mini Moleskine diary—the Borders in town has gone out of business, so I picked up this tiny daily diary for cheap.  It's adorable, fits in my bag, and has (so far) inspired my to write something about every day this year.  Even if it's only "Meatloaf for dinner and more Buffy with Astrid."  NB: a fountain pen writes more smoothly and lightly than a ballpoint and will improve your handwriting by about 50%.  No kidding.

Les Miserables—I'm kinda over my high-school Les Miz (the musical) obsession, but every time I pick up the book, I love it all over again.  See yesterday's post.

Epiphany

As it happens, a number of the non-Christmas books I've been reading have key scenes set at Christmas time.  I was re-reading the Harry Potters, including Deathly Hallows, which includes my favorite scene of the series, Harry and Hermione's visit to Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve.  One of the few things I missed in the new movie was any mention or explanation of the motto on the Potters' grave, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."  If you looked carefully, you could see it in the film, but it wasn't referenced by the characters.

On a tangentially related note, I also love Ms. Rowling's epigraph from Aeschylus:

Oh, the torment bred in the race, the grinding scream of death and the stroke that hits the vein, the haemorrhage none can staunch, the grief, the curse no man can bear.

But there is a cure in the house and not outside it, no, not from others but from them, their bloody strife. We sing to you, dark gods beneath the earth.

Now hear, you blissful powers underground - answer the call, send help. Bless the children, give them Triumph now.

Here's an interesting explanation, including the original Greek and a re-translation. I love the idea of "a cure in the house," as Christ came in the incarnation to save sinners from beside them.

I'm also re-reading Les Miserables and had forgotten that Jean Valjean buys back Cosette from the Thenardiers on Christmas Day.  He takes her to Paris, and in the following days:

On her part, Cosette, too, unconsciously underwent a change, poor little creature. [...] from the very first day, all that thought and felt in her began to love this kind old friend. She now felt sensations utterly unknown to her before—a sensation of budding and of growth.

Her kind friend no longer impressed as old and poor. In her eyes Jean Valjean was handsome, just as the garret had seemed pretty.

Such are the effects of the aurora glow of childhood, youth, and joy. The newness of earth and of life has something to do with it. Nothing is so charming as the ruddy tints that happiness can shed around a garret room. We all, in the course of our lives, have had our rose-colored skyparlor.

Nature had placed a wide chasm —fifty years' interval of age—between Jean Valjean and Cosette. This chasm fate filled up. Fate abruptly brought together, and wedded with its resistless power, these two shattered lives, dissimilar in years, but similar in sorrow. The one, indeed, was the complement of the other. The instinct of Cosette sought for a father, as the instinct of Jean Valjean sought for a child. To meet, was to find one another. In that mysterious moment, when their hands touched, they were welded together. When their two souls saw each other, they recognised that they were mutually needed, and they closely embraced.

Taking the words in their most comprehensive and most absolute sense, it might be said that, separated from everything by the walls of the tomb, Jean Valjean was the husband bereaved, as Cosette was the orphan. This position made Jean Valjean become, in a celestial sense, the father of Cosette.

And, in truth, the mysterious impression produced upon Cosette, in the depths of the woods at Chelles, by the hand of Jean Valjean grasping her own in the darkness, was not an illusion but a reality. The coming of this man and his participation in the destiny of this child had been the advent of God.

The coming of a benevolent father on Christmas, you see? An advent.  The father ends darkness and despair, and the child brings love and hope.