25 December 2010

Advent


The House of Christmas

G. K. Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay on their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost - how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.

This world is wild as an old wives' tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

13 December 2010

Perspective


So much of life is about having the right perspective--or realizing when we've had the wrong perspective. For instance, now that I'm sick, I realize just how amazing I feel most of the time. Of course, when I'm well for any length of time, I start taking my health for granted again. The same goes for my family, on a more serious level. When I'm with them for a while, the charm of being home starts to wear off, and I start seeing all their foibles and annoying idiosyncrasies (because I don't have any...right). But when it's time to say goodbye, I'm suddenly reminded of how much I love them, and of how much I'll miss some of those very same quirks and funny habits. If only we could always live with a bigger perspective. If we could shrug off the small stuff that really doesn't matter, and realize that each day with the ones we love is completely irreplaceable. That's not to say that we should cling on for dear life and never move away from home. Because even beyond this life there's eternity. So sometimes we do move away, and we get a job, then we get married perhaps--and the cycle of love and partings begins again. Not because those things are always easier or more fun (in the long run), but because God's calling us to an act of faith: the faith to invest in eternity, where there will be no more tears, and no more sickness, and no more partings.

Disclaimer: as mentioned above, I'm running a fever right now, so any lack of logical connectivity can be ascribed to that. The rest of the time--it's just me.

06 September 2010

Water


[This is actually Glendalough. It was formed by a glacier...so I think the analogy given below still holds.]

I've been thinking lately about suffering, and how (since it's no fun) I don't want the suffering in my life to go to waste. Not that I'm experiencing any incredible, unspeakable trials. Just the average ups and downs of life. But I want to know that God is using the downs to conform me to His likeness, and that I'm not allowing them to make me more self-focused or vulnerable to sin and the devil. On another level, I suppose I'd like to think that difficulties are like water in a rushing river. Pain, grief, disappointment all flow through you, slowly creating a waterway of hidden depths--depths that weren't visible (maybe weren't even there) before.

The Catholic / Russian* notion of embracing suffering takes on a whole new dimension when you think about the biblical significance of water in addition to the analogy I've just drawn--the River of Life in Revelation 22:1 flows from God Himself. As Augustine said, He has made us for Himself, and our hearts are restless till they rest in Him. It does seem that trials (almost more than anything else) drive us to slake our thirst with the Living Water.

I'm afraid I'm not expressing my ideas as clearly as I would like, probably because a lot of ideas are floating around in a very tired brain. I'll end with St. Paul, who said far more clearly and succinctly a few millennia ago.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal." ~ II Corinthians 4:16-18


*For Catholic, I'm thinking of Graham Green; for Russian, I'm thinking of Dostoevsky. Okay, end of footnote in blog post--which feels super-nerdy, by the way.

27 August 2010

More Lewis

"God is love. Again, 'Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us . . . We begin at the real beginning, with love as the Divine energy. This primal love is Gift-love. In God there is no hunger that needs to be filled, only plenteousness that desires to give . . .. To be sovereign of the universe is no great matter to God. In Himself, at home in 'the land of the Trinity,' He is Sovereign of a far greater realm. We must keep always before our eyes that vision of Lady Julian's in which God carried in His hand a little object like a nut, and that nut was 'all that is made.' God, who needs nothing, loves into existence wholly superfluous creatures in order that He may love and perfect them. He creates the universe, already foreseeing--or should we say 'seeing'? there are no tenses in God--the buzzing cloud of flies about the cross, the flayed back pressed against the uneven stake, the nails driven through the mesial nerves, the repeated incipient suffocation as the body droops, the repeated torture of back and arms as it is time after time, for breath's sake, hitched up . . .. Herein is love. This is the diagram of Love Himself, the inventor of all loves." ~ C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves

21 August 2010

Till We Have Faces

I just finished reading C. S. Lewis's retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche in Till We Have Faces. I spent a lot of the book being annoyed with the protagonist (Orual, the sister of Psyche), but the end made it all worthwhile. It's a very thought-provoking work, to say the least. I feel like I'd need to read the book several times through, and possibly do some background research as well, to fully appreciate all that Lewis does with the myth.

One of the central themes of the book is the Job-like desire the heroine feels to argue her case before the gods. Without giving away too much of the book (I hope), Orual comes to realize that suffering forces us to know ourselves as we really are. Lacking this ultimate honesty, one cannot, in any true sense, speak with the gods. As she/Lewis puts it: "How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"

I also encountered this idea of suffering as something to be embraced in Graham Greene's novel, The End of the Affair. Greene was a Catholic, so the emphasis on suffering is a bit more to be expected, I suppose. Christian suffering is a scary idea for me, yet it is biblical: "In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood" (Hebrews 12:4). "For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps" (I Peter 2:21). If we are called to suffer, and if suffering produces the sort of clarity of mind that enables us to see God and ourselves in a truer light, I feel like my paradigm needs some significant shifting from its focus around me and my comfort and convenience. Thankfully, I don't think God calls us to be self-flagellants. But I also know that we were not called simply to live the American Dream. If we embrace the Cross, we will be pierced by its thorns and nails, as well as washed in its blood. We're not suffering to earn grace, but to learn just what grace saves us from, and how much it cost. And I think Lewis would say, to rid us of all the layers that prevent us from speaking to God face to face.

Another train of thought triggered by this book had to do with the idea of faces, and how they match or differ from our inner selves. It's so easy to judge people for what they look like, what they say, what they do, how they dress...we all know what it's like to judge and be judged. But if God made each person, even though he or she is fallen, who am I to pass judgment? Not only is that questioning God's abilities as Creator, but it is smugly assuming that I can see past the outside to the core of that individual and appraise his or her innate worth.

Anyway...It's after 1 in the morning, and I am hoping that this post makes sense when I read it during the daylight hours. I will leave you with a quote from Till We Have Faces, as Psyche is preparing to die, to be sacrificed to the god of the Mountain:

"'No, no, no,' she said. 'You don't understand . . .. It was when I was happiest that I longed most. It was on happy days when we were up there on the hills, the three of us, with the wind and the sunshine...where you couldn't see Glome or the palace. Do you remember? The colour and the smell, and looking across at the Grey Mountain in the distance? And because it was so beautiful, it set me longing, always longing. Somewhere else there must be more of it. Everything seemed to be saying, Psyche, come! But I couldn't (not yet) come and I didn't know where I was to come to. It almost hurt me. I felt like a bird in a cage when the other birds of its kind are flying home . . .. The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing--to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from . . . --my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back. All my life the god of the Mountain has been wooing me. Oh, look up once at least before the end and wish me joy. I am going to my lover."

09 August 2010

There is life after Ireland

No. 1 Reason to return to the US: Brooke and Levi's Wedding!

The bride and groom make their getaway...


Palmetto Bluffs, S.C.: The incredible location for more pictures after the wedding. We watched the brilliant sunset from a bridge over a small, placid river, and felt like we'd stepped into another world. Then Brooke and Levi set off on their honeymoon, and we went to Savannah to relax.

No. 2 Reason to return...A job

This one I'm not such a fan of. Pretty much anyone will tell you the job market is less than optimal right now, and I'm crippled even more by my lack of experience. Still, it's a good chance to do some growing up, as well as to think creatively about all the possibilities. Plus, I get to live close to some people I truly admire and enjoy spending time with. The downside is...California isn't just a couple hours drive away.

24 July 2010

One last day...

Lovely Galway, looking down past the Spanish Arch and toward the mouth of the River Corrib.

Looking up river, and over towards the square by the Spanish Arch.

The beach at Salthill.
Salthill is a small resort town of sorts, along the coast past Galway.

The water was actually much warmer than I expected--I think it's warmer than Pismo Beach, ironically!

Lauren Bergin and Lauren Nofi in the Townhouse Bar...It's decorated like a house, which is really cool, in my opinion!

Caitie and Megan...two of our Texas girls!

There are many more things I wish I could have done or seen while in Ireland. But I'm so thankful I got to go and experience all the crazy and wonderful things that I did experience with my fellow API students! I just finished reading My Ántonia, by Willa Cather, and I think a quote from the end of it sums up my thoughts: "Whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past." So much about Ireland (as with any place we visit and have time to experience as it genuinely is) really must be received by osmosis, and can't be transmitted by words or pictures. It's definitely an experience I hope many of you all can share one day!

23 July 2010

Things I'll Miss About Ireland

1. The Accent...everything just sounds so much cooler with an Irish brogue.

2. The Food...bakery goods, hearty pub food, Murphy's ice cream (no, I'm not obsessed...quite)

3. Shop Street (and the Spanish Arch)...no matter when you walk down Shop Street in Galway, there's always something interesting to see or do, whether it's listening to live music, window shopping, people watching, or...

4. The Pubs...you meet so many fun / interesting people, and there is often excellent live music as well as plenty of drink

5. The Landscape...even though you pay the price of lots of rain, the green is lovely, as are the random castles dotting the landscape periodically, the stone walls, the quaint towns

6. The People...
...And so much more. It's been a great five weeks, and I wouldn't trade it for any price :)

When's the next flight to Shannon?

21 July 2010

Óró, Sé do Bheatha 'Bhaile

The last week has been packed pretty full, as we wrote papers, prepped for finals...actually, the finals got a little bit sidelined in my case, as Caitie and I chose to spend an extra night in Dublin on the spur of the moment, braving the big city without the rest of our group to protect us ;)

But first, here are a few pictures from our picnic at the Spanish Arch / girl's night out!

Caitie, Lauren, and Megan. Notice the Bulmer's cider we're holding (I highly recommend it). What I don't recommend doing is drinking it in a public place. We'd seen lots of other people drinking there before, so we figured there was no law prohibiting it, until two of the Guarda (the police) came up and told us we weren't supposed to drink in public. We like to refer to this as the night we almost got arrested, even though the two Guardaí were super chill and even told us we could finish our drinks before moving on ;)
Yes, I did drink a Guinness, albeit a girl's pint.

"Cute and cuddly, boys. Cute and cuddly."
Trinity College.

St. Patrick's Cathedral
Christ Church
And again...
Caitie and I before a night on the town. This was my first time in a real hostel...Nothing to write home about as far as amenities, but everyone in our room was fairly quiet--even when coming in at 3 or 4 am.

The Wicklow Mountains...
The purple is heather




Our two-person room that we got when we decided to stay the extra night (I'd definitely recommend The Four Courts Hostel).
Ha'penny Bridge
Caitie, looking like she just stepped out of "Singing In the Rain."
The Temple Bar itself, which lies within the larger Temple Bar district.


In case you're wondering, the words from the post title (in Irish, in case you didn't guess) mean welcome home. The poem they belong to, adapted from an old Jacobite song by Pádraig Pearse in the early 1900's, is not about just any homecoming. It was a nationalist song, welcoming Ireland (represented by a woman) home and looking forward to a time when Ireland would be free of her oppressors. I find the immediacy of Irish nationalist history very fascinating. Their War of Independence and Civil War took place from 1919 into the 1920's, and the violence in the North has only been somewhat resolved for the past ten years. So this song has a much deeper resonance for many people than a song about America's Revolutionary War would have for us today.

13 July 2010

Magic still exists in Ireland!

Actually, this is less about magic, and more about hot water. For weeks now, it's been touch and go whenever you take a shower at the apartment. Usually, if you're not the first one in, you're lucky to get sort-of-warm water. If you are first, you still may not get much hot water. I thought about asking maintenance or someone else about it, but failed to get up the courage or whatever it was I needed. Besides, aren't cold showers good for you, or something? [chatter, chatter]

Then tonight, as we were watching TV, the topic came up and I asked Annie and Catherine (our API friends from a few doors down) if they ever had cold showers. Come to find out, there's a way to fix our problem. You go to this little panel, and set the dial to the time you want to take a shower at (it's like army time though, so 23 = 11pm). Then, you set the timer for how long you want to take a shower. THEN, you start the water flow by pressing this little button (I did figure this part out before!), and give two yanks to this cord hanging out of the ceiling. I'm not even kidding! Then you say a prayer to the hot water gods...okay, maybe I skipped that part. Anyway, I am hopeful that our days of bracing cold showers are coming to a close...as should this post :)

11 July 2010

Of traveling, rain, music, and ice cream

Mom, Joey, and I met up with Paddy, a distant family connection of ours, who is from Achill Island. He was a sweetheart, and took us all over to see various sights. On the way up to the island, he showed us this picturesque old church and cemetery near an inlet of the sea.


A view of the island.
Spectacular cliffs...and winding roads along them!
The castle of Gráinne Mhaol, a legendary female pirate of the 16th-17th c.

Paddy and his wife Mary showed us boundless hospitality (complete with tea and biscuits) for our short stay there.
After getting back from Achill, I had a couple of hours to prepare for my next trip, this time down to to Dingle with NUI. Along the way we stopped at Bunratty Castle. As may be noted from the umbrellas and other rain gear, this was a wet day. You may notice a trend on this trip...

Once we got to Dingle, we found our way to Murphy's Pub, where we got some hearty food to fill up our empty stomachs, and plenty of good music from this musical group, called Dreams of Freedom.
Sam requested "Galway Girl," which they very kindly sang for us!

On Saturday we visited some examples of the beehive huts. The one above was built later, to reflect how the earlier ones would look if still complete.

On our way down to the beach.

Gorgeous beach. Yes, there were surfers in the water. And yes, some people from our group were brave enough to go in. I put my feet in--it was cold.

The Gallarus Oratory. A very old church. I have to admit that we had trouble being thrilled about these kinds of sites when it was very wet and cold out.
A Romanesque church and monastic site.
A stone inside the church, with the alphabet inscribed along the side.
A view of Dingle today, which was, I'll admit, slightly more sunny and less rainy--thank goodness! The things I liked best about Dingle were probably the ice cream (Bailey's and Dark Chocolate) at a place called Murphy's--not the pub--and listening to the music of Dreams of Freedom (we heard them again last night, when they played at The Dingle Pub, and they played "Galway Girl" again especially for us!).



Well, I took a stroll on the old long walk
Of a day -I-ay-I-ay
I met a little girl and we stopped to talk
Of a fine soft day -I-ay-I-ay
And I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do
'Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue
And I knew right then I'd be takin' a whirl
'Round the Salthill Prom with a Galway girl...
~ "The Galway Girl," Steve Earle