Nature & Books belong to the eyes that see them.
- Emerson
August 6, 2021
Looking Back - MotherKind
August 4, 2021
A Month in Summary - July 2021
28 Summers by Elin Hilderbrand (4.5/5)
Kissed a Sad Goodbye by Deborah Crombie (4/5)
Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy (3.5/5)
Still Me by JoJo Moyes (4.5/5)
Dear Edward by Ann Napolitano (4/5)
The Sewing Room by Rev. Barbara Cawthorne Crafton (3/5)
Abandoned:
The Same Sweet Girls by Cassandra King
Movies & TV Series:
August 1, 2021
The Sewing Room
People are what matter... Everything comes back to people: people I love, people I've disappointed, people I worry about, people I mourn.
and
At this annual conference, there are always facial tissues in the welcome kit. The participants cry a lot.
It is the annual conference of The Compassionate Friends, an organization of people whose children have died. There are two thousand people here: mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, grandparents. A sprinkling of clergy and others in the helping professions. I fit several of these categories. I am a priest. I am the mother of a dead child and the stepmother of another. I never knew the young man my husband misses so mightily. It wasn't until after he died that I met his dad. But I have dreamed of him. My own dead child never saw my face; he was too small to see, too small to cry, too small to live. But I saw him. Sixteen years later, I see him still. And in a dozen years of ordained ministry, I have watched the bedsides and prayed at the gravesides of many young people. Too many. But then, even one would have been too many.
My Current Thoughts:
I've had a draft of this post for several years now. Every time I start to share it, I find myself flipping through the pages of the book, re-reading passages, wondering why some spoke to me back in 1996, while others are still just as powerful as they were 20 years ago. I rarely re-read books, but maybe this is the year.
On the passage of years:
But years pass again, and life changes. Love comes again. Marriage. My youngest child is almost grown, and I am astonished at how brief this era, almost past, has been. How brief my life has been. I am aware that the decades left to me will seem even briefer, so they had better be sweet. If I do not capture and celebrate what art I have, it will die. If I do not nourish myself, I will yearn for nourishment. If I do not connect myself with my own past in the things I do now, I will remain adrift from it. Those whom I have loved in the past cannot catch hold of me, for they are dead. It is I who must catch them.On the loss of a child:
How long has it been since your son died, he asks? Five years. The man looks at my husband and tries to imagine himself surviving five years of this. He can't. He asks if it gets any easier. It gets different, my husband answers. Not exactly easier. It's hard to explain.On parental worry:
Separateness with love, though, recognizing that my child is a separate person with a destiny separate from my own, a destiny I cannot completely control: that's frightening.
... Now you know other fears at night. The stakes are a lot higher. Fears that don't spring from a neurotic need to control everything, but from an accurate assessment of what the world is like. The world is sometimes a dangerous place in which to live. There are things out there that can really hurt your child. And so, you worry.On imperfection:
I told them that it is good to have one's faults unambiguously revealed from time to time, in order that one may know wherein it is that we are acceptable. It is not in our perfection that we are loved. It is in the honest confession of our imperfection. Our clear conscience does not come from our assurance that we have not sinned. It comes from our assurance that we are forgiveable.
July 31, 2021
Dear Edward
July 30, 2021
Looking Back - While I Was Gone
July 27, 2021
Still Me
"Books are what teach you about life. Books teach you empathy. But you can’t buy books if you barely got enough to make rent. So that library is a vital resource! You shut a library, Louisa, you don’t just shut down a building, you shut down hope.”
July 23, 2021
Looking Back - Angel Falls
July 18, 2021
Migrations
July 16, 2021
Looking Back - Where You Once Belonged
Looking Back... In an effort to transfer my book journal entries over to this blog, I'm going to attempt to post (in chronological order) an entry every Friday. I may or may not add extra commentary to what I jotted down in these journals.
The red Cadillac pulled down Main Street and sat by the tavern for hours, unnoticed. Then Ralph Bird of the Men's Store recognized the driver as Jack Burdette and bolted to the sheriff's office. The prodigal son of Holt, Colorado, had returned--and he was far from welcome.
In Where You Once Belonged, acclaimed novelist Kent Haruf tells of a small-town hero who is dealt an enviable hand--and cheats with all of the cards. In prose as lean and supple as a spring switch, Haruf describes a high school football star who wins the heart of the loveliest girl in the county and the admiration of men twice his age. Fun-loving, independent, Burdette engages in the occasional prank. But when he turns into a man, his high jinks turn into crimes--with unspeakable consequences. Now, eight years later, Burdette has returned to commit his greatest trespass of all. And the people of Holt may not be able to stop him. Deftly plotted, defiantly honest, Where You Once Belonged sings the song of a wounded prairie community in a narrative with the earmarks of a modern American classic.
July 14, 2021
Kissed a Sad Goodbye
Kissed a Sad Goodbye by Deborah Crombie
July 12, 2021
28 Summers
July 9, 2021
Looking Back - Bee Season
July 6, 2021
Poem du Jour - Such Silence
Such Silence
As deep as I ever went into the forest
I came upon an old stone bench, very, very old,
and around it a clearing, and beyond that
trees taller and older than I had ever seen.
Such silence!
It really wasn't so far from a town, but it seemed
all the clocks in the world had stopped counting.
So it was hard to suppose the usual rules applied.
Sometimes there's only a hint, a possibility.
What's magical, sometimes, has deeper roots
than reason.
I hope everyone knows that.
I sat on the bench, waiting for something.
An angel, perhaps.
Or dancers with the legs of goats.
No, I didn't see either. But only, I think, because
I didn't stay long enough.
~Mary Oliver
July 2, 2021
A Month in Summary - June 2021
None!
Abandoned:
The Overstory by Richard Powers - Gave up after reading 150 pages. I only read that far because it's a book club selection and I wanted to give it my best effort.
"In the mid-1980s, Marv Creamer, a geography professor from a small-time college in New Jersey, did a crazy thing: He climbed aboard his 35' steel sailboat and sailed around the world. Without instruments. No compass, no radar, no charting programs, no sextant. Not even a wristwatch. Now, almost 40 years later, I'm about to do an equally crazy thing: I'm writing a book about Marv and his remarkable voyage. (Pix of contract and celebratory bourbon above.) The book is called Sailing by Starlight, and it will be published in the spring of 2022 by Sheridan House Publishers." (Rod Scher)
































