Monthly Archives: November 2008

It’s Saturday…

And I’m:

Typing as fast as my poor, sleepy brain can stand because I am determined to turn in my manuscript tonight, even if it kills me (and it might).

Drinking coffee at Agia Sophia at a little corner table that sets me in the middle of just enough bustle to help me concentrate. How would writers exist without coffee shops and good cappuccinos? (And another cup of coffee, albeit decaf, after that?)

Feeling rather self-congratulatory that the house is decorated for Christmas and we have a REAL Christmas tree this year.

Loving the white tempest that has finally descended upon our chilled landscape. Four inches! So lovely.

Getting teary-eyed at the ending of August Rush. Ah, the music.

Gearing up for six straight nights of performance in the Christmas musical Scrooge. Watch out world, here we come!

Wishing you all a weekend woven through with hot chocolate, wintry walks, family laughter, and some good Christmas tunes.

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Good Sabbath

O Watcher in the dark, you wake

Our dream of waking, we feel

Your finger on the flesh that has been skinned

By your bright day

See clear what we were doing, that we were vile

Your sudden hand shall humble great

Pride, break it, wear down to stumps old systems which await,

The last transgression of the sea.

-W.H. Auden


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From Away

Swift and chill and laced with a glimmering – that’s the way the night comes here in the mountains. I’m sitting in that early winter dark with another rushed day tucked in and the leisure of a few unfettered minutes. It’s been a long time since I’ve written and I truly have missed this space and the gracious, invisible faces that surround it. I’m sorry for my delinquency, truly I am. I owe you at least several posts (with picture) from the England trip. It’s just that I’m in a year of life that is indescribably overwhelming at times.I  actually have two more weeks until the deadline on my book so I can see sanity in the future… I think.

I live in a rhythm of work right now that is quite productive for my writing though perhaps not so much for my soul, so I decided that no matter how many more original publication dates and author’s bibliographies I needed to find on the internet, a visit with you was more important.

So how have you been my friends?

As I said, I owe you some autumnal English pictures and I am going to do a series of postcards from our trip in the next few weeks. Oh my friends, I love to be out in the wide world. It was a glorious adventure in which we walked more miles, drank more tea, and got soaked in relentless rain more times than even I thought was possible. You will love some of the stories, especially of our stay in Thirsk, James Herriot’s home village. That was a priceless two days.

I am back in the mountains now and though one blustery little snow has stolen the last aspen leaves, we are luxuriating in a strange, summerlike warmth which I am using to take long walks every day. I’ve been listening to one album as I trek up and down the hills of late, Michael Card’s Unveiled Hope. The overture at the beginning has an aching exuberance that almost makes me cry for the sheer beauty and bluster of its notes. I think it is so emotionally compelling because the whole album is Michael’s embodiment of the story told in Revelation. He took some of the most beautiful Scriptures of that last, apocolyptic book and put their themes to music. Holy is the Lord spurs such praise in me, an echo of the choir around God’s throne, while the last song, The New Jerusalem, so keenly and sweetly captures the true hope that God will one day be literally, physically with us that I have to simply be quiet sometimes after hearing it.

I think I have loved this particular set of music so much of late because it reflects what I have been studying in Isaiah. I have had some cause to feel myself to be “walking in darkness with no light” (Isaiah 51) at times this year, but my daily study of Isaiah has been the shield and staff I needed to hold me straight, to tell me uniquivicoally who I am and what has been promised to me. I’ll be writing more about my Isaiah times because I feel that my mind overflows sometimes with the need to shout out the truths I’m learning. But for now, as I work and work, wondering when God will alow me to flourish in some barren areas of my life, I take these long walks, listen to this music of a real hope unveiled, and I am helped. I am strengthened.

So that’s where I am in heart. In head, I’m smack in the middle of writing the last of what feels like about three thousand and one book reviews (how many different words can you think of to describe a delightful book? Captivating? Charming? Enchanting? I’m running out!) so I am probably a strange philosophical mix. Oh well. Life is an adventure, non?

English postcards coming soon. Grace to you my friends.

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