A Quiet Day, A Writing Day

Today was a quiet day. A writing day.

A day of accomplishment. A productive day.

A day in which words tangled then untangled as Brave Writer posts for the final week of One Thing: Poetry were crafted, revised--one posted and two ready to post later this week, only links to be checked.

A day in which teaching and joy merged, became one, as next Thursday's lessons for my co-op elementary poetry class flowed, the rise and fall of syllables as haiku and tanka swirled over pages, then printed, readied for copies.

A day in which this week's Brave Writer subscriptions, The Arrow and The Boomerang, bubbled forth, one finished and polished to a gentle shine, the other began, hyperbole as literary term explained, exampled, exhaled. Waiting on a final book to slide home, currently in transit from the library; all is in peaceful readiness awaiting its homecoming.

Essays still clamber impatiently, demanding their evaluations, their Thursday deadline looming. Time will be kind this week, a free afternoon Tuesday to allow my fountain pen to waltz across fonted pages, exhorting and encouraging, correcting and supporting. These high schoolers work hard and expect much; their preparations for in-class essays will lend me an extra hour of grading time if needed, in addition to my prep hour between elementary poetry and high school writing classes.

A peace fills me today, as the house sparkles in cleanliness, thanks to children's work this afternoon. Little B sweeps dust from mantel and tabletops, then struggles with unwieldy vacuum across the kitchen carpet, the whirring machine almost taller than he. His freckled face glows with accomplishment when he tugs the plug from the wall, secretly pleased with his work. J, rapidly approaching my height, scrubs upstairs and boys' bathrooms well while T, towering over both mother and father, swipes cobwebs from shadowy corners, vacuums hearth, then curls on sofa to rest, nose and throat red with a cold. E kindly pitches in, scrubs her bathroom and vacuums living room, allowing T to rest and recover. Dishes are done; sink is shiny white, counters wiped clear; all is pleasingly tidy and clean. Sparkling living quarters bring peace.

A restful evening of catching up on many unread blog posts--my sincerest apologies to those I read regularly and often comment upon; I hope to be caught up soon and back to my usual commentary. And Twitter is also read at last.

Life slowly swings back toward a pace of normalcy this quiet, rainy Saturday. While welcome rain soaks into the greening earth, pattering gently on the roof and through the oaken branches of thirsty trees.

A quiet day. A writing day. A productive writing day. A rainy day.

It was a beautiful day.

Clawing My Way Through The Week

I feel like this poor cat, swinging at the end of a frayed rope at the close of this week. It's been a frantic week, peace far beyond my clawing grasp.

The few deep breaths, the scarce moments of meditation this week have accompanied ashes and liturgy, silent supplication and the whisper of worn prayer book pages turned, the haze of vanilla candle.

But most of this week has been rush, rush -- of mind and heart as well as typing fingers and restless limbs. Words bustle, muddle together as they flew from my tongue, ungentle.

This morning we hurried out of the house, two boys burdened by school books and electric guitars, into my ancient Corolla, and rushed down the hill, sliding into chairs at Victoria House barely in time for Morning Prayer. Trying to calm heart, breath, and spirit as Psalm 95 pours through me:

Psalm 95. Venite, exultemus.
1 O COME, let us sing unto the LORD; * let us heartily rejoice in the strength of our salvation.
2 Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving; * and show ourselves glad in him with psalms.
3 For the LORD is a great God; * and a great King above all gods.
4 In his hand are all the corners of the earth; * and the strength of the hills is his also.
5 The sea is his, and he made it; * and his hands prepared the dry land.
6 O come, let us worship and fall down, * and kneel before the LORD our Maker.
7 For he is the Lord our God; * and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.
8 To-day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts * as in the provocation, and as in the day of temptation in the wilderness;
9 When your fathers tempted me, * proved me, and saw my works.
10 Forty years long was I grieved with this generation, and said, * It is a people that do err in their hearts, for they have not known my ways:
11 Unto whom I sware in my wrath, * that they should not enter into my rest.

I grope in the dark despite the morning light glowing through the cloudy skies, through the eastern windows. My too-short window of peace evaporated all too speedily, as Morning Prayer and Holy Communion do every Friday morning. By the time we reach the final blessing, I feel a heaviness on my soul, a weight, a burden, as I assume myself again and leave sanctuary to return to the world.

Each morning I pull open the window shade over our bed, peer over purpling mountains, Cuyamaca Cypresses, and the wide meadow glowing in mellow morning light before turning to my prayer corner. The heft of the prayer book in my hand, the morning quiet, the mind calming under influence of Spirit -- all create a short-lived miniature sanctuary before the whirl of each day starts.

Then to the computer where work lurks -- lessons to post, students to encourage, breakfast to gulp between e-mails, then Morning Prayer with the kids melding into church history, poetry, vocabulary, and literature. While the boys start their copywork, penmanship, and math, I try to escape to the stationary bike to exercise, vainly attempting to pedal away stress. Then back to the school table for math, spelling, grammar, phonics, reading, science, German, more spelling, more math, more German, and the faint strumming of J's guitar behind closed doors just before lunch.

The church bells of my cell chime, the boys' signal to start lunch, mine to climb stairs to return to prayer corner for Midday Prayer and, if time, Anglican prayer beads. Too soon the mayhem on the TV screen of Jedis defeating enemies fades as boys return to the school table for American History ... Andrew Jackson's presidency, the Industrial Revolution. Questions follow and are answered, and one child finishes while two others push on through sciences, geography, reading, health, writing.

Between and among lessons I continue to teach my online class, cajoling and encouraging in haiku and tanka. And then e-mails bounce into my inbox demanding my attention -- art council, community garden, prayer requests, work needs, co-op student questions ... answered and prayed and updated and saved and marked and dealt with.

And stress builds as energy wanes, afternoon wearing on and naptime ever beckoning. I dream of flannel pillowcases, sheets, and duvet cover, warmth personified and oh-so-necessary as winter temperatures plummet with the disappearing sun, winking in western windows.

In the rare moments of peace, pen finds hand and poems flow, words spilling forth, birthing images and phrases. Creativity must burst forth, on paper and here in this little square space, presented before all the world to see.

Weekend doesn't look to hold peace at this point with deadlines looming, one class finishing and another beginning in the next week, and papers to be graded piling up and demanding attention. Sleep is needed -- and rest --in light of chiropractor's scolding today whose first words were to rest. Perhaps two weeks from Saturday. Yes, I think I may be able to rest then -- a definite possibility.

Arts and Writing Conference

All week, among commenting on haiku and tanka in my online Brave Writer poetry class, teaching my boys about the Industrial Revolution in our home school (along with all other elements of our daily lessons), frantically putting up our new community garden blog, working on my Boomerang deadline for Brave Writer, and reading aloud The Hobbit each morning (and writing a poem or two), I have been working on getting the publicity done for our arts and writing conference in May.

Our town is tiny (pop 1200), so having an arts council at all is an accomplishment. A monthly writing workshop is icing on the cake. Then turning these two small groups into a huge arts and writing conference is quite a daring thing. But our founder, Judith Dupree, has long rocked such workshops/conferences. She first secured Dr. Dean Nelson, founder of the journalism department at Point Loma Nazarene University, with whom she is a long-time friend. I also know Dean well from my student days at PLNU as well as my time there as an adjunct instructor when Dean graciously shared his office with me. Judith has deemed Dean "The Ringmaster" of the conference.

Judith also worked her magic in calling in Jim Schaap from Iowa, professor, writer, and photographer. Then she rounded up local talent in our dear friend Kathryn Belsey (my darlingest Kitty!) who just received her MFA in Poetry, harpist Susan Raimond, artist Norm Daniels, and many other local artists, including my dear husband Keith Barrett.

The conference is entitled "Beauty and the Beast: Art in an Age of Adversity" and will take place Friday, May 7 through Sunday, May 9 at the Pine Valley Bible Conference Center in our beautiful town of Pine Valley, California.

For more information, available workshops, and registration, please see one of our blogs: Mountain Empire Creative Arts Council (MECAC) or MECAC Writers' Workshop. I am the official registrar, so feel free to contact me for more information, and I can e-mail you an agenda and registration form, if you are interested in attending.

So for all these reasons, and lately, the latter, I have been a bit scarce here. But I hope to be here more often and writing about more stuff.

Remember Ash Wednesday

(From last year's Ash Wednesday service with Father Acker at Victoria House, Alpine Anglican Church of the Blessed Trinity)

Remember Ash Wednesday
Remember,
O woman--
the dust of you
(body heart soul)
formed in
My Fingers,
My Palms.

Remember,
O woman--
as the burnt sacrifice
smears
across your forehead,
I brand you
as Mine.

Remember,
O woman--
My Love flows,
(My Heart to yours)
as you kneel,
your contrite tears
opening My Embrace,
enfolding you.

Remember,
O woman--
You, who are dust
(remember?)
will return to dust.
My Breath brought life
to you, woman,
with a Holy Kiss,
and with another Kiss
shall you return.

Remember.

Copyright 2010 by Susanne Barrett

On Lent

                                                                     
I posted the majority of my Lenten talk (I skipped the part on celebrating the Christian Year as it was running long already) on a separate page on this blog as it's rather lengthy. You may access it at the top of my header by clicking on "On Lent" next to "Home."

The talk went really, really well, and the ladies seemed to really enjoy it. Celebrating the Christian Year, especially Advent and Lent, is a real passion of mine. I was thrilled today to receive two "Notes" on Facebook from our former pastor, Rollo Casiple, who has preached on Lent at his church in Miami for the past two weeks, once on fasting in Lent and once on prayer in Lent.  If you're a friend of mine on Facebook, I "shared" them already on my page. If you're interested in his thoughts, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I e-mailed them to you. Just let me know in the comments below.

Preparation for Lent

Tomorrow (Tuesday) I have my Lenten presentation at the Lady Bereans Bible Study at Lake Murray Community Church. My talk is twelve pages long so I may have to edit "on the fly" as I talk tomorrow. I'm really excited about being asked to talk about something so near and dear to my heart to some ladies also near and dear. I'll post a late addition to my Gratitude Community tomorrow. If you are a person of prayer, I would very much appreciate your prayers for a wonderful talk and discussion of Lent tomorrow at a church that does not practice Lent.

New Quotation of the Week

I have been so pressed with Brave Writer business over the last two weeks that I've left up my Quotation of the Week for almost three weeks! Yikes!

So here is a wonderful quotation that is fitting for the beginning of Lent as Ash Wednesday is mere days away:

"Our wish, our object, our chief preoccupation must be to form Jesus in ourselves, to make his spirit, his devotion, his affections, his desires and his disposition live and reign there. All our religious exercises should be directed to this end. It is the work which God has given us to do unceasingly."

-- Saint John Eudes (1601-1680), from The Life and Reign of Jesus in Christian Souls

Wishing you all a blessed preparation for Lent this week,

Saint Valentine

Valentine's Day is about much more than candy hearts, roses, and chocolates. The root of this romantic holyday is all about martyrs to the Christian faith. The stories have faded over the centuries, much now classed in the realm of legend rather than fact. However, the archeological discovery of a church in the Roman catacombs dedicated to Saint Valentine demonstrates that indeed a Saint Valentine existed in third century and was well-known enough to have a church dedicated to his memory.

Wikipedia tells us: "The name 'Valentine' (Priest Valentio) does not occur in the earliest list of Roman martyrs, compiled by the Chronographer of 354. The feast of St. Valentine was first established in 496 by Pope Gelasius I, who included Valentine among those '... whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose acts are known only to God.' As Gelasius implied, nothing was known, even then, about the lives of any of these martyrs. The Saint Valentine that appears in various martyrologies in connection with February 14 is described either as:

A priest in Rome,


A bishop of Interamna (modern Terni), or


A martyr in the Roman province of Africa.


The first representation of Saint Valentine appeared in the Nuremberg Chronicle, (1493); alongside the woodcut portrait of Valentine the text states that he was a Roman priest martyred during the reign of Claudius II, known as Claudius Gothicus. He was arrested and imprisoned upon being caught marrying Christian couples and otherwise aiding Christians who were at the time being persecuted by Claudius in Rome. Helping Christians at this time was considered a crime. Claudius took a liking to this prisoner -- until Valentinus tried to convert the Emperor -- whereupon this priest was condemned to death. He was beaten with clubs and stoned; when that didn't finish him, he was beheaded outside the Flaminian Gate. Various dates are given for the martyrdom or martyrdoms: 269, 270, or 273.

Another source relates, "But there is no doubt that one St. Valentine really did exist because archaeologists have extricated from the forgotten ruins, a Roman catacomb and a church dedicated to this saint."

So I wish you all a blessed memory of Saint Valentine on this coming day dedicated to romance and love, remembering that Christ indeed is the true Lover of Our Souls and loves us with an eternal, unchanging love that we can no nothing to increase or decrease. God loves us just the way we are, but, as Pastor Stephen reminds us often, He loves us too much to let us stay that way. The pilgrim pathway we travel has been trod hard by the footsteps of the saints who have preceeded us, and their histories can encourage us along the way.

Happy Saint Valentine's Day, all!

Opening Ceremonies

Tonight the kids and I watched the Opening Ceremonies of the Vancouver Winter Olympics.

Stunning.

For me the highlight came just before the entrance of the Olympic flag. I'm not a big k.d. lang fan, but her rendition of my favorite song, "Hallelujah," was breathtaking, although I still think I prefer Justin Timberlake's version of the Hope for Haiti telethon.

The entire Opening Ceremonies has been incredible. And should be, for $30-40 million! Yes, it was lovely, but think what that money could have done for Haiti or other poor countries! The artistic side of me appreciates the beauty of the Ceremonies, yet the practical part of me cringes at that much money being spent.

The moment of silence for the fallen Georgian athlete who died on the luge run this morning was touching, and I offered my prayers as well.

The earlier parts of the Ceremonies was beautifully done. The trek across Canada was stunning, as was the tap dancing -- seriously!

I shall be bleary-eyed (or more bleary-eyed than usual, I should say) for the next 18 days or so while the Olympics play out. I love the figure skating especially, but also have to watch Apollo Anton Ohno go for his golds, plus Shawn White the snowboarder and the skiiers are incredible, too.

There's just something about the Olympics that draws me in, draws many in around the world. The Olympic Flame enters the stadium as I type this, wheeled in by a para-Olympian and then lastly by Gretzky, and the mechanical problem has happened that I read about on Facebook strikes. But the torch is now lit and the games may begin!

Go USA! :)

Lenten Reflections, Part 1

(button courtesy of liturgy.co.nz)

A week or so ago I was asked to do a presentation on Lent next Tuesday for the Bible study I used to participate in at Lake Murray and just haven't had time for lately. Lent is a precious, precious time of the year for me, one I look forward to because God makes Himself more present to me as I set aside extra time with Him through the 40 days preceding Easter.

I will be spending the next few days doing more research on the origin, history, and practice of Lent. My favorite resource thus far has been Martha Zimmerman's Celebrating the Christian Year, a wonderful resource especially for families with young children. Not only does it contain history, but Zimmerman, the wife of a Presbyterian pastor, also includes recipes and crafts for each of the holy days of the Christian Year, from Advent (the beginning of the church year) to Thanksgiving.

For me, Lent had been a time for spiritual spring cleaning, an opportunity to seek out the Lord and clear the detritus that has accumulated in my life over the past year and restore my relationship with Him and with others. Yes, we should always keep our relationship with Him our first priority and we should always seek Him every day of the year, not just Lent. But life and its incumbent busy-ness can come between us and our Saviour, and somehow spiderwebs build up in the dark recesses of our soul and need to be swept clean, removed from ourselves. And through seeking His direction through extended prayer and time in His Word, He reveals those musty corners and hands us the broom and mop to get the job done.

Some in the evangelical realm would (and have) accused Lent of being about "penance" rather than "repentance." But they have it wrong, at least in the way that I have always practiced Lent. Lent is about repentance, a turning away from sin and a turning toward Christ. Very much so. As Christ spent 40 days in the wilderness before starting His earthly ministry, we spend these 40 days in fasting and preparation to celebrate the miracle and the power of Christ's resurrection.

Some also say that as the Bible doesn't command us to celebrate Lent, we shouldn't then celebrate it. But the vast majority of evangelicals obviously celebrate Christmas and Easter. No one should be forced to observe Lent, nor should those who celebrate Lent see themselves as more "godly" than others, just as those who celebrate Christmas and Easter (or who refuse to celebrate these holy days) should see themselves as more "godly" than other Christians. After all, Christians are commanded to "see others as better than themselves" in Scripture.

In addition, some evangelicals state that Lent makes our spiritual lives about ourselves -- what *I* give up, what *I* do, what *I* say. But again, this idea is a misguided view of Lent. The people I know who observe Lent spend extended time in prayer seeking God's guidance in keeping a holy Lent in His strength and not our own. What shall we fast from, Lord? What shall we read or study? How shall we pray and with whom? What do we need to confess? Whom do we need to seek for reconciliation of relationships? A proper Lent is about our personal relationship with God and with others, which, asfter all, is His will for us. It's not all about "me"; it's about learning to live more fully in and for Him.

So I shall continue my study and practice of Lent. I know what I shall fast from -- something I am not mentioning in public in order to follow the Scriptural mandate about fasting in keeping it between God and me and my immediate family for accountability. As far as my study and my other additions to my Lenten Rule, I am still seeking Him.

Wishing you all a Holy Lent,