Glimpses of Beauty.

I was driving back to school in the early morning dark, and rain and wind were whipping around my car. As I rounded a corner on an old country road past a rambling white farmhouse, I glanced into the windows, brightly lit, spilling golden warmth into the darkness. An elderly couple was sitting at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee. I only saw them for a second, but that moment stayed with me. I felt like I had witnessed the “unsought beauty” that Lewis wrote about in his early poetry. How beautiful to see enduring relationships, shared over an early cup of coffee on a rainy winter morning.

The Thanksgiving Holidays.

Younger times.

When I was in high school my family drove to my grandparent's home in Michigan to spend the Thanksgiving holidays. We'd stay in the guest cottage next door, mom and dad in the bedroom, and my brothers and I in sleeping bags in the living room.

It usually snowed that weekend and the day after Thanksgiving we drove to a little ranch nestled in trees and went on a sleigh ride. The horses were big and black and strung with red jingle bells. We slid through forest as the sun set and sang Christmas carols as the shadows turned the snow blue gray.

And my aunt welcomed us back with turkey noodle soup and hot apple cider.

And there was always pie and late night card games, and laughter.

Home again, Home again, jiggety jig.

A few weeks ago in October, I went home and carved pumpkins.

(mine's the one on the right with the bow tie)

Some good friends and I carved them in the park on a Sunday afternoon.

I'm going home again this weekend, and I can't wait.

My mom tells me she has apples to make applesauce and a new movie to watch together.

And one of my brothers is coming home.

and I'll probably bake a little.

muffins or a cake

or something.

Life is busy, but I'm keeping up

and making time for more than busy.

I'm ready for a break.

T is for Time.

Lately, I've been busy, so busy I have to map out my days in the morning so that every minute will count towards something.
It's exhausting.
A few weeks ago, after fall break, a speaker came to chapel and told us that ever since the invention of the clock, people have been ruled by time, by the steady motion of the clock, ticking away minutes, seconds. Some cultures ignore the steady movement of time and choose to live beyond the constraints of tightly blocked out days. Lunch may stretch into a couple hours or an afternoon coffee date may turn into dinner. Time passes, but it is not recorded.
Lately I've found myself longing for freedom from schedules. I don't want to live ruled by time. I want to live within time. But is this possible in such a fast paced country? Is it practical?
I don't wish to ignore time, for I want to use time wisely. But I don't want to rush through life, trying to keep up with the clock, either.
Balance. It's difficult to live within time rather than under it's steady hand.
In The Tempest, Prospero says,
“we are such stuff / As dreams are made on, and our little life / Is rounded with a sleep”
Prospero comprehends man’s mortality, that man’s life is as delicate as a dream, condensing the hours into seconds until life fades into an eternal sleep  
He also understands the concept of time, and is able to act wisely and influentially within the little life he is given, acting with grace and mercy towards those around him.
I so desperately long to learn to live within time, using it wisely as Prospero did, and as Jesus did on his time on earth. But right now, I feel ruled by time. Perhaps someday I will learn.  

Fall Break Beginnings.

"A is for autumn -

blazing colors so bright.

Cider mills, pumpkins,

and Halloween night."

- J is for Jack-O'-Lantern

[Indian corn from the Corner Market near my house]

 My fall break began with pancakes and a new book. Hmmm.

I was planning on writing about my fall plans, of pumpkins and baking and apples.

But I will leave you with a Hopkins poem instead:

"Hurrahing in Harvest" 

Gerard Manley Hopkins

  Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks rise
Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?

I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And eyes, heart, what looks, what lips yet give you a
Rapturous love’s greeting of realer, of rounder replies?

And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder
Majestic - as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet! -
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
Wanting; which two when they once meet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet

Banana Bread.

The first half of this semester has all but disappeared. Fall break begins Friday (thank goodness). Already it's been one of the best years. Why? Because I have made it that way.
I stumbled upon this quote at the end of summer, and immediately made it my desktop background.

"beauty in the everyday is beauty you can hope for" -- seth simonds

I have chosen to find the beautiful in the days so far. Sometimes it's easier to see than others. Sometimes I don't want to see it, but it's always worth trying to glimpse beauty, because then you know that you are alive.
The beautiful things make us feel alive.

So here's a few wonderful things...

 winding roads in Tennessee...

banana bread (I've made so much this semester. It's the perfect brain food)

and all the time I've spent with the people here in Tennessee.

Here's to living life with vitality.

I hope you do.

Hiding Place.

"Hiding Place" 

Amidst the sorrows of the way
Lord Jesus, teach my soul to pray
Let me taste Thy special grace
And run to Christ, my hiding place

You know the vileness of my heart
So prone to act the rebel's part
And when You veil Your lovely face
How can I find a hiding place

Hiding place, hiding place

Lord, guide my wandering feet
Draw me to Thy mercy seat
I've nought to trust but sovereign grace
Thou only art my hiding place

How unstable is my heart
Sometimes I take the tempter's part
And slight the tokens of Thy grace
And seem to want no hiding place

Hiding place, hiding place

But when Thy spirit shines within
Makes me feel the plague of sin
And how I long to see Thy face
'Tis then I want a hiding place

Lord Jesus, shine and then I can
Feel sweetness in salvation's plan
And as a sinner plead for grace
Christ, the sinner's hiding place
And as a sinner plead for grace
Christ, the sinner's hiding place