Sunday, October 31, 2010

Annie the Bear-moose and sweet trick-or-treats

Bek has been raving for the last two weeks about this Halloween number she picked up for Annie at some half-price consignment shop. Never mind that it's a little small - or that it's made for a climate decidedly more arctic than the one we inhabit - "it's just Annie," she said. And she's right. We call Annie "bear" or "bear-moose", and Annie laughs uproariously every time she puts the outfit on. So it fits, even if it doesn't.

The door bell rings have been few and far between tonight, leading Bek and me to speculate in the down time about the possibility of handing out Bible tracts next year. You know, in case the five kids who came are tempted to come back. The last crew, though, scored major points for ogling (at some length) our twin hand-carved pumpkins. Maybe we can keep a few full-size candy bars on hand for the best brown-nosers next year.





















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Saturday, October 30, 2010

the Day that Begged for Pumpkins

As previously posted, pumpkin carving requires good friends and a pretty day. To live with my best friend is a blessing beyond words (I love you, Bek!), and today met the other half of the criterion with graceful ease. Without further ado, some pics from the Day that Begged for Pumpkins.















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Pumpkins!

Bek and I took turns carving pumpkins this afternoon. Pumpkin carving is probably an acquired taste; we acquired it among good friends six or seven years ago (tho both of us have childhood memories, too). Carving takes patience, and I'm not much for patience, but breathing deeply helps because striving - hurried efficiency - is an enemy of beauty. So it helps to have good friends and a pretty day. An autumnal beverage doesn't hurt, either.


The studio.








Master carver at work


with a beautiful smile


Bek's pumpkin


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Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Hymn of the Day

By Charles Wesley.
Extended version...

O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of His grace!

My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honors of Thy name.

Jesus! the name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease;
’Tis music in the sinner’s ears,
’Tis life, and health, and peace.

He breaks the power of canceled sin,
He sets the prisoner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean,
His blood availed for me.

He speaks, and, listening to His voice,
New life the dead receive,
The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
The humble poor believe.

Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Savior come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy.

In Christ your Head, you then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.

Glory to God, and praise and love
Be ever, ever given,
By saints below and saints above,
The church in earth and heaven.

On this glad day the glorious Sun
Of Righteousness arose;
On my benighted soul He shone
And filled it with repose.

Sudden expired the legal strife,
’Twas then I ceased to grieve;
My second, real, living life
I then began to live.

Then with my heart I first believed,
Believed with faith divine,
Power with the Holy Ghost received
To call the Savior mine.

I felt my Lord’s atoning blood
Close to my soul applied;
Me, me He loved, the Son of God,
For me, for me He died!

I found and owned His promise true,
Ascertained of my part,
My pardon passed in heaven I knew
When written on my heart.

Look unto Him, ye nations, own
Your God, ye fallen race;
Look, and be saved through faith alone,
Be justified by grace.

See all your sins on Jesus laid:
The Lamb of God was slain,
His soul was once an offering made
For every soul of man.

Awake from guilty nature’s sleep,
And Christ shall give you light,
Cast all your sins into the deep,
And wash the Æthiop white.

Harlots and publicans and thieves
In holy triumph join!
Saved is the sinner that believes
From crimes as great as mine.

Murderers and all ye hellish crew
In holy triumph join!
Believe the Savior died for you;
For me the Savior died.

With me, your chief, ye then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.



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Monday, October 18, 2010

Steeeeew!

One of the great delights of autumn is the transition to fall foods, most especially Beks' world-famous stew. Here's a picture. (We closed the blinds, put on hoodies, and pretended that it was cold outside.)



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Hooked on books!

Bek and I are finding strange comfort this week reading books about the faith of friends. Bek finished Lauren Winner's Girl Meets God today, and I'm near the end of Stanley Hauerwas' Memoir, Hannah's child. Not one to be left out, Annie is pouring through her own favorites, too.



Remember this one, Momma?











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Friday, October 15, 2010

Annie's pre-party party (and the last of the NC 2010 vacation blogs)

Bek thinks the time is right to wrap up the whole NC vacation blog series. She's probably on to something. That means busting out pics of Annie's pre-birthday party - Aug 14 or 15, I think. Here, you see the same bear theme that would be employed back home on Aug 22 in full force. Things we learned: 1) Annie loves balloons, 2) and wrapping paper, 3) but doesn't relish being the center of attention, especially if said attention is in the form of a lot of adults singly loudly from the opposite end of a table, 4) cake needs a context - we wondered why she wasn't going gaga for a food she'd never seen before, 5) birthdays go best with the love of family, and we were blessed two times over in this. Annie-roo, we're glad you were born! Thank you, Jesus, for Annie. :)






























Footnote to the vacation blog:
When we arrived back at the San Antonio airport and met up with Mom and Dad, we ran into Ruth Riley and a host of other women's basketball players. Ruth, of course, was a Notre Dame great while we were in South Bend. No point, but I wanted to remember this.

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Annie, the artist

Annie, the artist. No reason, really - just pics overdue for posting. The Bakers sent us Stanley Hauerwas' memoir, Hannah's Child, which I've been reading today. (Thank you, Mark and Debbie!! I offered to let Bek read it first, but she's got 5 books in process, she says - she's trying to be disciplined??) Anyway, I have really enjoyed it so far - and it has me wondering how Annie will account for her being Annie Lyn Melton some day. I pray that it's with the same grace, humor, honesty, and gratitude to God that Stanley shares in his writing, and that, with God's help - and humor - I can grow in and witness these things for her, too.





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Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Our week with the Bakers in haiku




Here on Goose Island
Big Tree, one thousand years old,
Mosquitos attack!





Goodbye, ninety-eight
Hello, two-oh-three, she said
Who gets to drive you?


Water brings calm, peace,
Ripples of silent hope
Rest for a worn soul


Beautiful women
Big smiles and a daddy's joy:
She's looking at me


Grandparent-loving
Open hearts, giving so much
And ice cream abounds


Look at that stinker!
Which one? you shyly inquire
I don't know, either.


Grace on a front porch
Mercy, gift, overwhelming
God's kindest humor


At Los Comales
We eat at other places
Could not tell you why.


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Monday, October 11, 2010

Shield the Joyous

“Shield the Joyous”





Jesus said,

“I have said these things to you

so that my joy may be in you,

and that your joy may be complete.”

John 15:11

Dear Annie,



You're too young to have noticed - I’m sure - the joy that you cause by your joy. Your smile is kindling for at least a hundred others every day - more than half of them are mine - and your delight in simple wonders causes me to wonder, too. I strain to see the joy you find so easily: through picture windows, seeking one more glad and happy glance of the neighbor’s errant dog; with mashed-up squash between your fingers, squeals and laughter on your lips, as dinner gives way to bath-time; in expectation of nightly blessings, hand on head, and glad for Momma’s hugs, as at the end of joyful days you find the rest of God.



Every night that we pray God to “tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous”, I wonder if those last three words aren’t yours - I mean, for you. A friend of mine had said as much: that he knew those words again when met against the backdrop of his son’s not-quite-eternal smile. I pray those words for you.



Even as I pray these words I wonder with some sadness why joy would - must - require this shielding - like the eroding edge of a receding shore. In so many ways, time grows us stronger, more mature, more developed - why not with joy? But joy is a gift that needs shielding - that is, left alone, joy despairs. And your smiles will one day learn mistrust and your laughter a self-conscious hesitation. O Lord, my God: shield the joyous.



I pray, dear Annie, as I pray these words for you, that you will learn the joy I've learned around the table, cup, and bread of God. The songs of saints in chorus singing: “Be known to us, Lord Jesus, in the breaking of the bread.” Receiving heavenly food. I pray with all my heart that you will find the pilgrim company of the Church with a forgiveness mightier than her thoughtlessness. That broken bones will find their healing, dancing, that mercy will make you merciful, and that when the “alleluia” breaks that dark, black Easter morning your own song, your heart, your life, will be a joy that needs no shielding.



And because I pray these things for you, I pray these things for me: that I may witness for you and with you the joy that comes to us as gift; the joy that keeps me grateful, hopeful, and expectant; the joy that sings the three-fold mystery of God:



Christ has died.

Christ is risen.

Christ will come again.



With the love and joy of Jesus,

Daddy





Sunday, October 10, 2010

The season of softer light

I remember the autumn my grandparents drove the east coast - from Maine all the way down to Florida (I believe) - and how much my grandma loved the changing colors; the explosions of oranges, yellows, reds, and golds that marked the trip for them. Shortly after their return, we grandkids discovered some Hobby Lobby faux-leaves that my grandma had twisty-tied to the big tree out front - a sort of token and warm-hearted protest against the indifference of the greens and browns of north-east Dallas. The joy with which she formed her protest and the memory of her laughter at herself mark for me the bittersweetness of the season. Bittersweet because I miss her. And sweet because the winding-down of life and light gives way again to advent - the advent of the Lord who saves, redeems, even soft light days like these and speaks the 'Yes' of God. The vesper light is full with hope, and the hope is the light of Christ.

So here we are in softer light again, and Bek and Annie and I pray to mark these days with expectant hope and gladness. For us, this takes the shape of simple tasks by which we practice being present to earthy things - like dirt and leaves and twisty ties - and also to one another, and most of all to God. This fall, Bek and I are trying our hand at a fall garden, and I will try to carve a half-dozen gourds or so before All Hallows' Eve. I'm grateful for these ordinary days and for the God who has so wonderfully condescended to meet us even here.


Bek, master gardener at work


Annie and me, master photographers, goofing around while Bek works


We planted three types of tomatoes, some chocolate mint, cucumber, and squash.





Pumpkin # 1, Grandpa Munster

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