procrastination...

From Calvin's Institutes

“Therefore, however fitting it may be for man seriously to turn his eyes to contemplate God’s works, since he has been placed in this most glorious theater to be a spectator of them, it is fitting that he prick up his ears to the Word, the better to profit.” -72

“They do not therefore apprehend God as he offers himself, but imagine him as they have fashioned him in their own presumption. When this gulf opens, in whatever direction they move their feet, they cannot but plunge headlong into ruin….for they are worshiping not God but a figment and a dream of their own heart.” -48

“Certain philosophers, accordingly, long ago not ineptly called man a microcosm because he is a rare example of God’s power, goodness, and wisdom, and contains within himself enough miracles to occupy our minds, if only we are not irked at paying attention to them.” -54

“Consequently, we know the most perfect way of seeking God, and the most suitable order, is not for us to attempt with bold curiosity to penetrate to the investigation of his essence, which we ought more to adore than meticulously to search out, but for us to contemplate him in his works whereby he renders himself near and familiar to us, and in some manner communicates himself.” -62

“For with regard to the most beautiful structure and order of the universe, how many of us are there who, when we lift up our eyes to the heaven or cast them about through the various regions of the earth, recall our minds to a remembrance of the Creator, and do not rather, disregarding their Author, sit idly in contemplation of his works?” -63

“For unless you first of all grasp what your relationship to God is, and the nature of his judgment concerning you, you have neither a foundation on which to establish your salvation nor one on which to build piety toward God.” -726

“We compare faith to a kind of vessel; for unless we come empty and with the mouth of our soul open to seek Christ’s grace, we are not capable of receiving Christ.” -733

“Therefore since God justifies us by the intercession of Christ, he absolves us not by the conformation of out own innocence but by the imputation of righteousness, so that we who are not righteous in ourselves may be reckoned as such in Christ.” -728

I am supposed to be writing a digest that proves that I have comprehended the whole assigned text, but instead I want to ponder the little texts and look at apartment therapy.

A House Concert and Snow Covered Pumpkins

Wendell Kimbrough and his friend 'Lewis' came to play their music for us at our friend's home in Ambler. His performance is very entertaining; he stomps his feet to the beat and tells stories in between songs. His songs are both musically and lyrically resonant; they very simply and concretely express our common experiences. He artfully captures the complexities of those experiences by singing about common things. His audience was charmed on Friday.
So many of the people that I love listened with me. There is nothing better than sharing a wonderful moment with beloved friends. Sharing what is good in life with a host of friends makes life melodious. Philip often looked over at me with bright eyes. The brightest kind that he squints when he is very happy.

and then it snowed...

and I got a cappuccino...
Philip had his man coffee black and strong. We woke up to rain pelting on our roof Saturday morning. We napped most of the morning and listened to the natural beats in between dreams. We stopped hearing the rain, but began to see snow. snow. snow. snow. all day it snowed. The snow fell on pumpkins, stuck to vibrant leaves still hanging on the trees, and piled high on top of our mums. I needed a cappuccino to go with the snow. Saturday mornings, Philip and I go out for breakfast. We split a breakfast sandwich and put everything unsaid or forgotten on the table to discuss between us. Our ritual is great.

Saturday night, we went to our friend's home and ate a warm stewed dinner with music and candles and laughter. The snow lingered on Sunday and we lingered around the house.

A Sunday in October, a year later

I have decided to start blogging again, a year later. There must be something about autumn that stirs me to write and share life. I love the fall.

Autumn in Virginia

Last weekend, Philip and I traveled to Roanoke to go to our friend's wedding. I had been anticipating the trip all month. I love the Blue Ridge Mountains in the fall. As we cruised down interstate 81, the landscape I love began to beckon me home. The stretch of road between Harrisonburg and Roanoke is familiar and graceful. Farmland surrounds the road: red painted barns, white silos, carmel colored cows, wooded and grass lands. Farmland in the fall is as a sixty year old person. It is golden time in life: the children are adults, the bank account is full or at least the house is paid off, grandchildren are a near prospective, finally retired and still healthy to enjoy it. The laborious work is finished. The farmland has been tilled, planted, and harvested. Dried out cornfields are stunning in gold. Reaped up earth looks rich in brown. Sun exposed grass fields are ever so green. Summer's work is finished and the bounty is so colorful.
Roanoke looked great too. I saw almost everyone. My sister and I enjoyed a dinner at Taaza, a delicious Indian restaurant with the best naan bread. My grandparents and Philip and I enjoyed a hearty breakfast. I visited with Stewart, Maggie and James. I saw Ginger and she gave me bread that sustained Philip and I on the drive home and for breakfast this week. We went to the wedding and saw more friends.
The wedding was nestled in farmland just outside of Roanoke. It was on top of a hill overlooking a scape of fall colored mountains. The breeze blew through our hair and through tree branches. The comfortable coolness reminded us that it was autumn. The reception was down the hill outside of a little barn. Carmel apples, pumpkins, hay bails, mulled wine, and sweet tea. There was even a bluegrass band to tap your feet to.
Sandra, Joshua, Malachi, Jason, Kim, Ben, Kendall, Mike, Jessica, Angie, Glen, the Dunkards, the Spencers, and some new and old faces. I missed Ingrid and the Smiths. Talk, talk, talk. love, love, love. Miss, miss, miss.
Philip and I drove home with Mike and Jess. In their lovely living room we lounged all over their couch and chairs. Todd visited and we shared a good conversation. Kendall came over and we went for a walk in Wasena. I smoked a cigarette and walked along the railroad tracks with my friends, in the fall, near the river.

I'm content!

I am content. I have a great job. I love the two classes I am taking. I love my husband. I love my house. I love my church. I love the community we're meeting and nestling into. I love how vibrantly the scriptures are lighting up my perspective. This week, I am content. It can happen. As quickly as the waves come to meet the shore and leave, is as my contentment shifts within me. But this week, I feel as though I've caught the wave and beckoned it to stay.

Wendall Kimbrough

Last night, Philip and I went to a house concert to hear Wendall Kimbrough play his music. It was dark outside when Philip and I arrived; the windows in the house glowed with golden lights amid the moonlight shadows. Philip and I walked into an entry room where chairs were set up around two guitars and the grand piano. The room felt warm because of the candle light and still because of the empty chairs. We continued to the back of the house. There it was full of animation: laughing people, half eaten food, hands shaking, tipped wine bottles, zig-zag walking, and flicking candles. The chaotic conversational rhythm was a hearty opening to the concert. I met a few. Ate a few. Poured myself a glass of wine. Then at the sound of the triangle, everyone shifted to the front of the house and sat still, ready for Wendall.
He was good. I like the way his feet moved: they kept a rhythm that seemed different than the rhythm his fingers played. I was very happy, despite his themes: Melancholy feelings, heart breaks, bleak winters. His music and his stories connected with me, especially "Sweet Virginia," and that made me happy. Others in the room expressed their contentment with closed eyes, tapping feet, and subtle smiles. Philip held me, my hand, or my leg the whole time.
Philip and I stayed late. We left as the family was pre-making breakfast for the morning. We were having so much fun we did not want to leave. The music, the food, the candles, the wine, the people. Sweet concert.

The Sun is Warm and the Wind is Cool

We're in Philadelphia. We unpacked quickly; I was determined. The first week, we simply drove everywhere within our radius. The second week, we thought about jobs. The third week, I got a job as a nanny. The fourth week, Philip studied hard to pass out of the first class of Greek--which he did!
We feel comfortable. We know how to get to the grocery stores, a cozy coffee shop, church, and how to take the scenic route to the downtown area. We've bought one item from the Philadelphia Craigslist- a vacuum cleaner. We've hosted a few people over for dinner, dessert, lunch. We been invited to other people's homes. We have not traded our Virginia licenses for Pennsylvania ones. We have eaten a cheese steak, taken the train, sipped water ice, and learned how to pronounce "Schuylkill." We're adjusting well.
Labor Day, we drove one hour and a few minutes West and visited Lancaster County. We drove out of the suburbs into the country rocking and rocking out to Bruce Springsteen. Sun roof open. Between Springsteen we played a CD that we are borrowing from a couple at our church: a group called "Blind Pilots." the wind swirled around inside the car and sunlight flashed in our eyes in between overhead tree branches. In Lancaster county, we went to a small village called Bird in Hand and rented bicycles, as we set out to do. We biked up hills and coasted down hills. We stopped at a number of farm houses selling their craft from home. We rode through the farmland, the well ordered, well worked farmland. Wooden plows, four horse power, laundry lines pegged with large linens, tiny stockings, lilac cotton shirts, black aprons. We saw a one room school house with children playing outside. The wind blew over and against us the whole time. The fall wind. When we stopped to look at out map, we could hear the wind blow through the dried up corn fields, subtle and earthly chimes. The sun burned my skin - final intensity.
Today is the same. The sun is hot but the wind is cool, very cool. Today Philip and I begin classes at Westminster. I'm so ready for fall to begin and blow that hot summer away. We start today.