Tuesday Evening Quiet

I quite unexpectedly have had the house to myself for the entire evening. I love my roommate, but I will absolutely admit to having quite enjoyed the quiet and the freedom to roam the apartment in a more unfettered way than usual.

I cooked dinner for two. I'm not sorry I did, since it means I will have lunch tomorrow, and so will my roommate (in her case, likely dinner tomorrow as well, since I'll be out and she'll be on her own for cooking.)

I read this article tonight on depression and Christianity, and was glad that someone, somewhere is talking about these sorts of things.

Last night I finished reading a book for the first time in a while. "Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott. Because it was Anne Lamott, there is really no question that I loved it. I quoted a line from it here earlier this month - a line about the sword of truth. That line is resonating in my heart still, touching deeper things, things that I'm slowly finding words for.

It's summer, and we live in an apartment. That means it gets HOT. Which requires a certain degree of planning. Open windows. Trying not to use the oven (we bought cookies at the grocery store last night instead of baking.) And, since my bedroom window doesn't have a screen, I prefer not to open it. That means using a fan to keep the room from becoming stifling while I sleep.

After dinner, I spent the evening propped on my bed, with a dvd playing on my laptop. I finished my yearly trip through the entirety of M*A*S*H* a little while back, and am working my way through the entirety of the The West Wing again. So I watched a few episodes of that, while sitting propped on my bed, and working on a sorting project.

I have three enormous plastic file storage boxes, containing mostly papers and documents from years ago that must be sorted. One contains carefully labelled folders with notes from a wide variety of classes that I took in university. (Those notes need to be taken with me to work, where I can scan them to a pdf format, and store them in my email for future use, thus dramatically reducing the required storage space.)

I went through the entirety of one box tonight. I'm rather proud of that accomplishment. I probably cut what was stored in it in half, those items I'm keeping staying in their files, and those items I'm disposing of placed in the recycling bin in the kitchen.

I also moved some boxes around in the living room, so, while not quite settled exactly, it looks liveable. There is a stack of boxes in the corner, mostly containing scrapbooking supplies, which I have a plan (involving another trip to Ikea) for storing in such a way that it doesn't just look like a stack of boxes. (Basically, I'm getting a shelf of some sort...)

Sorting and purging. Still engaging in the process of making things new.

And now, now I'm going to peruse my shelves. Because I seem to have a bit more time to read these days, and I have probably well over a hundred books in my possession that I've purchased and not yet read, or read only in part. And, since I finished a book yesterday, that means I get to select something different.

A little bit of reading. Some devotional time. And then an early bedtime. I seem to be fighting some sort of stomach bug, and sleep is still either fleeting, or filled with exhausting dreams, so I'm working at giving my body as much of a fighting chance as possible at rest.

And, speaking of rest, I also read this quote by Anne Lamott tonight (though not from "Bird by Bird), and loved it: "I live by the truth that 'No' is a complete sentence. I rest as a spiritual act." (Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, pg. 174)

I'm off to engage in a spiritual act.

Lyrical Encouragement

There are many things I need to share at some point about the new route I drive on my morning commute. The number of things along the route that are deeply heart-stretching is really quite astounding.

In the meantime, this morning, as with several other mornings recently, I was listening to music by my friend Karla Adolphe (see also Jacob & Lily and Chair & Microphone Vol. 3 from Enter the Worship Circle). Some of her lyrics struck me deeply again, bringing encouragement to a tired heart:

These, from her first album "Come Home" from the song "Jude":

Somebody come and rescue me
from this desert that I am walking
Look in my heart, and do you see
this little girl, and baby is she talking?
Is she tired?
Is she worn?
Is she broken?
and is she torn?

But You lift me up again
Lift me up again
And You lift me up again

And then, these lyrics from "Chair and Microphone Vol. 3" the song "You are Mine"

Maybe I don't have the strength
Maybe I don't have the faith
You brought me here in forty years
When I know this trip should take a week
I've shed my tears and shed my blood
been out ran some by the flood
and winter steals my songs away
in all of this I've come undone

When you walk through the water
I will be with you
When you pass through the river
those waves they will not overtake you, and
when you walk on the fire
those flames they will not touch you
You are mine
You are mine

I've been a child
I've been a slave
I've grown bitter and learned to pray
I've packed my bags and started back
the cost is just too high to pay

When you walk through the water
I will be with you
When you pass through the river
the waves, they will not overtake you
When you walk on the fire
those flames, they will not touch you
You are mine
You are mine.

We are children of another world

I'm still slowly making my way through a book of prayers by Walter Bruggemann, and was deeply struck as I read this one this morning:

For the mystery of the text,
and for the history of eyes to see
and ears to hear the text,
we give you thanks.

Our eyes are scaled
and our ears are uncircumsised
and we are children of another world.

We pray for the gift of perception.
We pray for energy and courage,
that we may not leave the text
until we wrench your blessing from it.

Amen.