falling through the ice (a little adventure)

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One of the many things I have learned about The Wild Outdoors since marrying a hunter is that whitetail deer shed their antlers every winter. During the spring and summer those antlers grow back a little bigger and then the deer are ready for targeting during the fall hunting season. Finding a great set of antler “sheds” in the woods is a bit of a consolation prize for a hunter. It’s a way of saying: you didn’t get the big buck, but since you found his antlers you know that he’s still around. Maybe you’ll get him next year when he’s even bigger!

This unusually temperate winter provided us a gorgeous weekend full of bright afternoons and temperatures near 50’F. Aaron was going “shed hunting” on Sunday and I decided to accompany him. The weather was warm, the sun was shining, and I was excited that we would be outside together for a few hours. I knew we would walk and laugh… and maybe we’d even get to talk about our feelings! My hopes were (unrealistically) high as I bundled myself up in warm layers and drove out to a special hunting spot.

After parking the truck on dry ground, we had to cross a river before reaching the deer’s usual habitat where we hoped to find the elusive antler sheds. I wore special boots that came up to my knees since the ice was cracking and we expected to fall in and wade across part of the shallow water. The plan would have worked, but our crossing point in the river just wasn’t that  shallow.

Yes, I fell through the ice into the waist-deep river. Aaron helped drag me out, and after replacing the wading boots with regular shoes, we took a few pictures.
This accident only strengthened my resolve to find a great set of “sheds,” so I stuck it out for several hours of walking. Unfortunately our search was in vain and my icy plunge was the most exciting part of the story. Maybe we’ll have better luck (and stay drier!) next time!

Decluttering: What to do with bad books?

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During recent months of working towards the elusive goal of having less stuff, I’ve given away more than half our books. As educated and literate people with mild pack-rat tendencies, we have accumulated more books than necessary and I was excited to pare down our collection. I was surprised how easy this was, maybe because we have access to multiple libraries, online bookstores and our Kindle.

For the most part, the book-sorting process was very straightforward. Since I can donate to the library for a tax deduction I decided against gambling with used book sales online, and most of the books easily sorted between “keep” and “donate.”

Any book I questioned was put in an “undecided” sack. But then I came back and started thumbing through them and realized they promoted some disturbing themes. I’m not trying to go all Farenheit 411 bookburning here, I have no reason to keep them and I’m not comfortable donating if someone else might take these ideas seriously. So the lonely books sit on my closet floor and I haven’t decided what to do about it.

Out of this wacky collection, the most ludicrous volume is Music and Morals: Dispelling the Myth that Music is Amoral, by Kimberly Smith. I used this as part of a broad research base for my senior thesis in college and I distinctly remember sharing some great laughs with my advisor at the ridiculous material we found here.

The basic premise of this book is that hymns and western classical music written before 1820 inherently honor God while other styles do not. This hits close to home for me because I love the music she favors, but the author makes outrageous and illogical arguments to support her false belief. Arguing that Christians should only sing and listen to her “God-honoring” music, she claims newer music causes people to move sensually (a term she uses interchangeably with “immorally”), says jazz is the musical equivalent of a one-night-stand, and blames contemporary music for teenagers developing romantic intentions towards their peers at youth group. Most disturbingly, this book subtly promotes racist values by excluding the rich musical traditions of Asia, Africa, South America and any other cultures from her rigid definition of “moral” music. (I’m pretty sure if God made people all over the world, He’s glorified in music that comes from all over the world, too.)

I suppose my fear is not so much that one would take this book seriously, but that they might think Christians like me take this book seriously. It makes my whole religion look bad. I have a handful of books I won’t read again but don’t want to promote – so what do you think is the best solution here? Trash, burn, donate,  “accidentally” leave in garage so they are susceptible to water damage?

I might end up keeping this one around after all, just for laughs. After reading this next blurb, I must wonder what she would say about how often I sing Old McDonald with kids in music class:

Popular Music/Animal Music (1900+) Directed to the Undisciplined and Unrestrained Passions of Man

“…Some of the music and dances of this time had animal names, and America learned such dances as the Jitterbug, the Fox-trot, the Monkey, and the Funky Chicken. This parallels the theory that evolutionists believe humans to be nothing more than educated animals.”

Thou art the journey

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I love this prayer from Boethius, a 6th century Christian:

O Father, give the spirit power to climb
To the fountain of all light, and be purified.
Break through the mists of earth, the weight of the clod,
Shine forth in splendor, Thou that art fair weather,
And quiet resting place for faithful souls.
To see Thee is the end and the beginning,
Thou carriest us, and Thou dost go before,
Thou art the journey, and the journey’s end.

-Boethius, c. 480-524 AD.

(photo found here)

a look at our life as a WAHC.

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As the typical use of the English language degenerates rapidly, probably in inverse relation to the availability of social networking, those of us who read things online often see acronyms that succinctly describe a person’s current state, such as SAHM for Stay-at-home-mom or WASP to describe White, Anglo-Saxon, Protestants. Honestly, I don’t understand why these four-letter titles are such a common part of web lingo, since other than texting or twitter most technological communication doesn’t have a word or character limit. (I might also argue that over-using these things reveals a limit to one’s moral character, my own included, but that’s not the issue here.)

Those objections aside, if this is how people are talking these days I suppose I can’t completely beat it. So I’m coming to terms with the facts: this week we have been a DINK (Double-income-no-kids) WAHC (Work-at-home-couple). The first title seems less glamorous when I clarify that these incomes would keep us well below the poverty level if we only had one of them.

As a change from his usual 70-hour researching work week in the lab, Aaron is laboriously writing for a deadline at the end of this month. As if this doesn’t sound hard enough on it’s own, scientific research publications look like another language. Working from the couch at home is a small comfort in the midst of this task.

And when I’m not changing the world one music lesson at a time, my grand central office is in the kitchen. I hear stand-up desks are all the rage these days. The location is a bit torturous because I keep getting distracted and trying to clean things.
As apparent in our pictures, we have been drinking copious amounts of fresh french-press coffee.

This DINK WAHC status allows opportunity to observe the shiny nose of our deer in it’s temporary home above the fireplace,

and check out the guppies in our new fish tank to see if they will be popping out babies under our careful watch.

…but the biggest benefit of this is coming up with ridiculous inside jokes. This morning, it’s that I shout, “I am (You are) being summoned!” in a British accent when one of us get a text message.

We were just talking about how we’re spending years in a stage of life neither of us really imagined being in for long. Of course graduate studies are demanding, but this PhD program is strenuous and it feels like it’s taking forever, and we’re uncertain about how many “roots” to put down where we live, childless, pinching pennies by necessity… It is very, very easy to feel like we’re just in a holding pattern, waiting for the rest of life to get here. So on the surface life usually feels quite stagnant, but we’d be missing out on so much if that is all we focus on. It often seems strange to settle into this DINK WAHC life, but it’s what we’ve got. Of course we look forward to things being different, and it can be difficult to balance contentment now and hoping for what is ahead. Weeks like this are such a gracious reminder that what we’ve got now is good, too.

Who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience… Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.
– Romans 8, esv.

the deer is here

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There are many potential “first post of the year” ideas floating around in my head: reflections on 2011? goals and dreams for 2012? pictures from our holiday road trip? practical financial tips we’ve implemented lately? fun plans for visiting cousins soon? favorite books from the past six months? important life lessons? telling everyone about all the free books I’ve agreed to read and review here? fun crafts I made for Christmas presents? our new fish tank? the delicious meals we’ve eaten on a ridiculously small grocery budget? finishing one of the 12 half-written articles floating around my draft folder?
I’ve never ever had a problem coming up with ideas for any project in my life, writing online included. Instead, I have serious problems with procrastination and letting myself get too overwhelmed and paralyzed thinking of all the things I could do without actually doing anything. It’s been an issue my whole life. But the paralysis of pondering this year’s first post, which is not that big of a deal in the first place, was ended when a very noteworthy event took place in our home last night.

There is a back story here. Last November, Aaron shot a trophy 10-point whitetail buck scoring almost 150 inches (*CORRECTION: 154 1/2 inches*) with his then-new bow. He wanted to get the head mounted, and I agreed to this idea on the condition that we would remodel our kitchen before it was finished. I also stipulated that the mount would have to go in the basement or a “man room” of our next house. I can’t put it in the hunting-themed room of our current house, because it remains the potential nursery if we were to have children while living here. What if the head fell off the wall and an antler speared our baby? Like I said earlier, I think too much and it causes problems sometimes. Well, in case you can’t tell from the lack of updates, the kitchen progress has seriously halted, and I think I’ve been unconsciously avoiding anything that gets us near completion as if I could hold off the inevitable. But now the day I have dreaded is here: the deer head is back from the taxidermist and in our house. Since Aaron didn’t tell me he had picked it up, when he brought it in the house I thought (for just a moment) he was bringing an actual mature buck into the living room. I actually screamed and covered my eyes for at least 30 seconds.  Then Aaron hauled it upstairs, so I’m guessing he’s using one hand for typing a paper while gently, gleefully stroking the fur with the other.

First photo of the deer was with a cell-phone during the post-mortem river rescue…
Then a recovery shot on dry ground
And now, after waiting a year for the necessary drying-out and whatever else it is those taxidermists do, we have a deer head ready to mount. Discussions regarding the actual placement are ongoing.
I just want to know… why does his nose have to be so shiny and lifelike?

He might go in the living room or the kitchen. I’m hoping for the kitchen, as it would be less visible to my piano students. Either way, we will see it from the dinner table, so I hope we have actually finished the meat from this specific animal already. I fully believe hunting is one of the healthiest activities my husband could have, and I’m glad for so much free-range, lean, red meat. But I will still feel a little strange slurping my venison chili underneath this deer’s blank, glassy stare.

love’s noon in nature’s night

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It hardly looks like Christmas should be coming soon! The weather outside is warm enough to fetch the mail without a coat and there is no snow in sight.  I usually forget about some of the beloved nativity hymns and readings until the last minute, but with a whole nine days to spare, here are some portions of my all-time favorite holiday poem. I love the imagery of Christ as the light, the eternal day, and all wonders in one sight.

From “In the Nativity of Our Lord God: As sung by Shepherds” by Richard Crashaw.

Come we shepherds, whose blest sight
Hath met love’s noon in nature’s night;
Come lift up our loftier song
And wake the sun that lies too long.


Gloomy night embraced the place
Where the noble Infant lay.
The Babe looked up and showed His face;
In spite of darkness, it was day.
It was Thy day, Sweet! and did rise
Not from the East, but from Thine eyes.

We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest,
Young Dawn of our eternal day!
We saw Thine eyes break from Their East
And chase the trembling shades away.
We saw Thee; and we blessed the sight,
We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light.

Poor world (said I), what wilt thou do
To entertain this starry Stranger?
Is this the best thou canst bestow?
A cold, and not too cleanly, manger?
Contend, ye powers of heaven and earth
To fit a bed for this huge birth.


Proud world, said I; cease your contest
And let the mighty Babe alone.
The phoenix builds the phoenix’ nest,
Love’s architecture is his own.
The Babe whose birth embraves this morn,
Made His own bed ere He was born.

Welcome, all Wonders in one sight!
Eternity shut in a span.
Summer to winter, day in night,
Heaven in earth, and God in man.
Great little One! Whose all-embracing birth
Lifts earth to heaven, stoops heaven to earth.

To Thee meek Majesty! Soft King,
Of simple graces and sweet loves.
Each of us a lamb will bring,
Each a pair of silver doves;
‘Til burn’t at last in fire of thy fair eyes
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice.

Adoration of the Shepherds by Caravaggio

“fear not”

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Whether you focus on the spiritual themes of Advent or jump ahead into Christmas celebrations, the weeks leading up to the holidays are full of waiting and excitement. While anticipating Christmas brings joyful hope, patience for other things in life is often very raw, destabilizing and scary. Especially when life is wearisome, the holiday waiting can hit a nerve of underlying or unrecognized fear.  It’s easy to picture happy children marking passed days on the calendar expecting another magical December 25th, but the rest of life isn’t like that. We don’t know what, when, or even if things will happen, and the things that do end up happening might be hard or painful. Depending on the person and their circumstances these contingencies may be especially terrifying, but it’s safe to say we all face this battle in some way. At this time of the year it might feel like the chasm between happy hope and our own gaping wounds is uncrossable. Uncertainty can make celebrations feel so painful for some, and these challenges seem worse with messages all around urging happiness and merriment.

There’s no use hiding these hard feelings, and I’ve been thinking about this because this theme of nagging anxiety has been a theme in so many conversations I’ve had lately. There are varied stories, of course, but most of us respond to all sorts of pain by asking similar questions:
What if I don’t succeed in this new endeavor – grad school, starting a business or job, parenting, paying off debt, leadership responsibilities, moving?
     What if the person I love rejects me and I’ve poured myself out for nothing?
     What if it takes forever to recover after this awful thing?
     What if things don’t get better?
The letters I-F in “what if?” give us a quick way to reveal what I Fear, and I confess a sinking familiarity with this list because I’m asking the same questions on some level every single day. I don’t think these fears are unique to anyone!

It shouldn’t be that surprising to confront growing fear while preparing for Christ’s coming. The Israelites must have mused, Our prophets seemed like they were crazy anyway, we were captured and in exile, and now we’ve had hundreds of years without a messenger from God… What if this is all a joke? Shouldn’t the Messiah be here by now? An angel had to command Joseph not to fear taking Mary as his wife. The shepherds were terrified for one of the most glorious fresh-air Angelic choir concerts of all time. And even today we’re bombarded with skepticism about Jesus’ return: Look at people like Howard Camping! Is it crazy to think this is real? Shouldn’t Jesus be back by now?  Human fear permeates the story of Christmas, so why shouldn’t contemplating the mysteries of Christ’s coming bring our own everyday fears to light as well?

The Christmas story is beautiful here as it validates and releases these fears with  the messages of our Advent contemplations – hope, peace, joy and love.
Weary Israel: This is the branch from Jesse, with the spirit of the fear of the Lord, which remedies all the rest of your fears.
Take courage, Joseph: These crazy and embarrassing circumstances you don’t understand fulfill my promise to bring forth salvation.
Good news, lowly Shepherds:  Salvation comes for all people, including you.
Be not afraid: God is incarnate, dwelling among us that we may behold him.

Reinforcing the truth of scripture, many Christmas carols proclaim the Christ child is the antidote to fear.
Yet in thy dark street shineth the everlasting light!
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.
– “O Little Town of Bethlehem” words by Philip Brooks, 1867.

Saints before the altar bending, watching long in hope and fear,  
Suddenly the Lord descending in His temple shall appear!
– “Angels from the Realms of Glory” words by James Montgomery, 1816.

Come, thou long-expected Jesus, born to set thy people free
From our sins and fears release us, let us find our rest in thee!
– “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” words by Charles Wesley.

(Advent Starry Night by Virginia Wieringa)

And it’s interesting to note what happened after these Christmas story fears were confronted. Joseph woke up from his dream and obeyed the angel’s command.  The shepherds went from their fields to find the stable in obedience to their instructions. They responded to fear by acting on what God had revealed to them, and that’s the same path we can take to push past fear. In yielding any worry, big or small, we encounter the ultimate revelation God has given us – Christ, the Word made flesh.

“Be not afraid; say unto the cities of Judah, Behold your God!”   – Isaiah 40, king james version.

[image here]

kicking off Advent

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We’re celebrating the first Sunday of Advent this evening! I haven’t been able to work up the energy to think about doing the usual Christmas decorating, but I’ve had fun planning some new traditions for Advent. This season is all about joyful patience and anticipation, celebrating both those who waited for Jesus’ birth and our wait for his return in glory.

The first tradition we’re instituting (after intending and forgetting since 2008) is lighting Advent candles every Sunday night. I found these cute little glasses at Goodwill and I love them, but I’ll have to remember to look for better purple and pink votive candles next spring so I can stock up for next year.

four advent candles with the pure Christ candle in the center

The other thing we’re trying is a Jesse Tree! This is a twist on a Christmas tree, where there is a new ornament to hang every evening that corresponds with a devotional reading. Or maybe Christmas trees are a twist on the Jesse tree. Either way, we’re doing one of these this year in place of a usual evergreen. It would be awesome to have the same ornament tradition with a Christmas tree, but I am feeling very lazy about putting that together for now. I’m excited about this because a Jesse tree is a tangible way to celebrate the lineage of God’s faithfulness throughout history leading up to Christ’s birth and learn from those who faithfully waited for the promised Messiah. I think it will take a few years to collect a full season’s worth of ornaments, so some of mine will be pieces of paper or drawings for now! From the looks of this picture I will need to some better branch hunting tomorrow, too. Oh well! This is what it looks like for now, and I already started making an ornament for the reading on Monday.

these branches of the jesse tree are ready for ornaments!

That’s what we’re starting out with this year, and here are a few great resources for Advent if you want to think about any of this stuff yourself:
1) This is a fun song from singer/songwriter Andrew Peterson about the genealogy before Christ. It’s a great musical expression of the things we’ll spend some extra time meditating on this month.


2) Ann Voskamp has a Jesse Tree Advent Devotional available if you subscribe to her blog A Holy Experience. (It would be worth your time to subscribe anyway.)
3) I love this article on Advent from Bobby Giles and these Advent prayers from the Gospel Coalition.

It is marvelous that Christ came and is coming again – we are blessed to contemplate these mysterious gifts!

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit. And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. -Isaiah 11:1-2, esv.

 

a glorious harvest

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Even though we’re staying home for a modest Thanksgiving celebration, our cozy house has been bustling for days with culinary preparations and we look forward to enjoying all the wonderful things we love doing for the holidays: logs blazing in the fireplace, hot wassail, music, excessive cheese consumption and a little extra luxury reading. Aaron says these are slightly pretentious activities, but the truth is that we’re just really awesome.

With our other traditions, I’ve noticed that we always get into philosophical money discussions around the holidays, too. These conversations ask not so much “How much are we spending on travel and gifts?” but “Do we like the direction our lifestyle is taking us? What do we want to correct in our current financial path?” Even this year, after we absorbed a significant income reduction and made some noticeable cuts in our spending so I could quit my day job and teach music at home, our conclusion is the same as in the past: we are happiest when we live simply. A shared attitude of renewed contentment is one of the things I love most about this time of year…. but what does it say about our general cultural prosperity that a graduate student and self-employed musician can make a conscious decision to be more frugal? Our cup of blessing overflows! We praise God for the rich supply he has brought us and pray that our lives will become wholesome grain for His glorious harvest, too.

Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home;
all is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin.
God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.

All the world is God’s own field, fruit as praise to God we yield;
Wheat and tares together sown are to joy or sorrow grown;
First the blade and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear;
Lord of harvest, grant that we wholesome grain and pure may be.

Even so, Lord, quickly come, bring thy final harvest home;
Gather thou thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin,
There, forever purified, in thy presence to abide;
Come, with all thine angels, come, raise the glorious harvest home.
– “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come” by Henry Alford, 1844

…Okay, did you think this was going to be a post of thoughtful Thanksgiving commentary? I’m way too ADD to stick with one thing for very long. Those who want to see what our kitchen looks like can now offer thanks for this gift I present: Check out this video of how un-finished (and yet, so beautiful!) the kitchen is looking these days!

veteran’s day

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desert cammies in my closet

Today in America we celebrate our Veterans. This is especially poignant for me because I’m married to one. Aaron enlisted in the Marines during college and found out he was going to Iraq shortly after we started dating. He spent a year training for and completing his deployment before safely returning home.  On occasion it occurs to me that things could have been very, very different.  Sometimes I have a little flashback to those days of wondering “Will I ever see him alive again?” when I see a supportive bumper sticker or hear a clueless person rant about war and the middle east, and my heart jumps to my throat whenever I hear a phone with the same ring tone I used while Aaron was in Iraq. I call these things my own “mini post-traumatic-stress” episodes. I mentioned that I had a small kitchen disaster yesterday and my 4-year-old glasses protected my eyelids from strands of hot, exploding squash. As I reflect on the kindness of God’s common protection there, it’s very humbling and a little terrifying to know my own husband’s life was preserved by a much grander series of unknown providential defenses.

I can’t say exactly what reflections Aaron would offer, but on this Veteran’s Day I’ll share some of what I first wrote to friends and family shortly after Aaron’s return from Iraq four-and-a-half years ago.

***
Have you appreciated the legs and arms and lives of the people you love today?

It is no secret that everyone is “dealt a different hand” in the “card game of life.” God plans different things for each of us. I don’t understand why some things happen to me and not to other people. Why do I have the life I do when others face different circumstances? Why did I get this life and not someone else’s?

My boyfriend was deployed for a year. For seven months he was serving in Iraq, fighting at the front lines. Lots of men in his battalion were killed. This country needs many brave men and women to serve in different capacities. Some work on computers or cook on the bases. Others, like Aaron, kick in doors and perform raids. These men are made almost entirely vulnerable to attacks of the enemy during their operations. On the relationship side of things, his sporadic phone calls were quite infrequent, poorly connected, and very short. I prayed fervently for him every day, and am overwhelmingly grateful for his safe return.

While he was deployed, I found myself occasionally considering the mystery of God’s will that this man was for me and in danger so far away when others can spend a lifetime without dealing with anything nearly so harrowing. Now that he is home, I find myself marveling the Divine plan with a totally different perspective. Why is it I get my love home safe and free from injury when others don’t get a safe return, or any return at all?

At his homecoming, when the families lined the walkway where our Marines marched into the gymnasium, we saw men coming in on crutches, in wheelchairs, missing arms. In the crowd, I saw a man cradling an inconsolable woman. Was she just an emotional mother, aware that her healthy son battled the same terrorists these men did? Was one of these wounded men her son — carried inside her body for nine months, raised for two decades and then sent to war? Did this woman have a son who died in Iraq and should have returned with these men? I don’t know who she was and I don’t know her story, but I can’t forget her tears.

After Aaron’s return, when I was still at school, someone gigglingly said: “I bet you are glad to have him home in one piece!” It made me want to cry. By the grace of God, I don’t even remember who said that to me. They certainly hadn’t seen the same scene I did at Aaron’s homecoming. Many people have used the “in one piece” phrase in conversation with me and I never know how to respond. It isn’t that I don’t like having Aaron home safely; I have never been more glad about anything in my life. Referring to someone as being “in one piece” is relevant for this situation precisely because some people don’t come home in one piece. Or come home at all. And I don’t think it is cute or thoughtful to reference that sad fact in the least.

I am fully, completely, absolutely thankful for Aaron’s safe return and I am so proud of him. Unlike those who throw powerful words around tritely, I know what it is to be glad that someone is in one piece.

I am so glad last year is over!
***

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me. …Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.  – Psalm 23, king james version.