what's in a name?

 Or, what IS a name?

I was reading in Exodus, chapter twenty-three. Verses 20 + 21: I am going to send an angel in front of you, to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared. Be attentive to him and listen to his voice; do not rebel against him, for he will not pardon your transgression; for my name is in him.

I find this so interesting, and puzzling. What does that mean? 

Why does God say we should call upon the name of the Lord?  Why doesn't he just say we should call upon him?  If I see you at a distance, and call, I call you, not your name. I am calling to you, yourself. I may call out your name, or to put it differently, I may call you by your name, but I'm not calling on your name, so what does that mean?

Somebody recommended a book to me called God Has a Name, by John Mark Comer - it was somewhat helpful (although I don't remember how - guess I need to reread!), but I still have the question. And today in Exodus, there it was again, "my name is in him". I really feel that this is something we don't understand; that there is more to a name than we realize. 

But I'm not the one to figure it out.

progress, and forgetting

 I was waiting for the cold nights to kill off the rampant weeds in my garden; I thought they might be easier to pull up. But we are also having a long drought - every day brings a fire warning. So, nothing is easy to pull out of a hard ground. 

Still, I went out today in the beautiful breeze and was able to remove some of it, and I guess I've got all winter to get it out of there, even till March. We'll see how diligent I am. 

I was noticing how the Japanese maple hangs on to its leaves when almost all the other trees have shed theirs. Some of the leaves look dry and deeper-colored, others look garnet with the sun shining through them.

"It is very often painful when the lovely images in the mind will not compose themselves into even reasonable facsimiles, in words. It can be so painful that I long to throw the typewriter out of the window and scrub floors all day. With a floor, I feel, you can see progress, you get somewhere."

                                               -   Gladys Taber

Oh, I was going to wash the bathroom floor today - forgot! 

the case of the missing pattern piece, and other things

Not the temperature they predicted, but Monday was sixty-five:  mild, hardly breezy and wonderful for a day off. Now we have finally gotten into the forties for the daytime. Outside, everything is burnished. That's November.

I picked up a biography of Samuel Adams, cousin to our second president, John, and according to British officials of the time, "the most dangerous man in Massachusetts". Considered by Paul Revere, John Hancock and cousin John Adams as their "political father", and called "truly the Man of the Revolution" by Thomas Jefferson; it's a young adult book, but full of information and interestingly written. I really knew very little about him; now I know he failed at every job he undertook. He only seemed good at "talking and writing about the rights and liberties of the people". I love reading about this era.

I have returned to a dress I was planning to sew a year ago; I don't remember what happened. I had started on the bodice, and - ?  So, now I'm ready to attach the skirt part, but I soon realized I hadn't cut them out. Okay, there's plenty of fabric there, so I looked for the pattern piece. All the pieces were there, except for that one - it was nowhere! But, looking at the shapes from the layout examples, I am sure I can just make a guess. There are center seams front and back, so - four pieces, and they're a-line. I just have to figure out how big the tucks should be and how much fabric to allow for them.

My brother had a birthday. I gave him a book of the meditations of Marcus Aurelius. He is liking it, and surprised at how interesting the observations are. 

The Christmas cactus at work is setting buds.

Things are getting more intense in Tolkien's The Two Towers, with Gandalf and Pippin flying away on Shadowfax, his tail flicking in the moonlight. Then he leaped forward, spurning the earth, and was gone like the north wind from the mountains.

a post-election reminder

 "Because we know that nothing finite is ever our final good, we are seduced by the inflated claims of the politicians, social theorists, philosophers, and bureaucrats who promise a paradise that will come if only we change the system or modify that economy or rearrange that society. Because our eyes are fixed on the city below with greater precision and judge it more critically."

                                              -   Bishop Robert Barron,  from a commentary on Romans, chapter 8

rereading

 "There are many wonderful books which are fine to read, but there are very few that are better reread, and still fewer that should be reread every year. 

For me the test is, can I bear not to read this again? A fine book is like a mine. You get down strata after strata until the very deep loke is reached. This takes time and thought and isn't a business of skipping through once. On the other hand, a book may be pleasant as a shallow running stream and still worth reading. But the ones to keep, to carry with one wherever one goes - these are precious cargo."

                                                -   Gladys Taber 

farewell, October

 What a warm day! Too warm, really, and I made soup because that what I'd planned - could hardly eat it.

We had 154 kids come: lots of princesses, some inflatable costumes like chickens or dinosaurs (which made it difficult for them to maneuver, I could tell), some ghouls, a hot dog - with mustard, I'm happy to say and not ketchup. The second grim reaper asked me what his costume was.

me: The grim reaper!

GR: Correct!

me: Hey! Do I get a prize or something? (as he was walking off)

GR: Well, I'll see. Maybe I'll come back.

I certainly don't want that.

The first grim reaper had glitter. Less creepy. 

And that's the end of October. 

a complaint

 Any American my age is going to know what I'm talking about. When we were kids, the storm doors were light-weight, made of aluminum. It would slam after you if you let it go, but the sound of it would definitely be in the memory of anyone who had one of these doors. It's a summer sound, an American Summer Sound. 

They also were easy to clean, and I could take out the glass panels with no problem, whenever I wanted. The ones we have now are considered a step up, but ever since we got them, I have to enlist my brother to get the glass out. It isn't easy for him - he has to bang it and struggle with it. Well, years have gone by, and the rough treatment he gives it is taking its toll - on him, yes, but I was referring to the doors. There are bits flying because parts are getting brittle. It's not worth it! We are looking into new doors, and I don't think I care what they cost. I want to be able to remove those panels myself! We'll see if they make anything like that anymore. I'm feeling a little skeptical.

the cats enjoy the lower view these doors provide

"In rough October, earth must disrobe her"

The title is from a poem by Christina Rossetti.

 We had a few warm days this week, and I had the intention to sit at the picnic table at lunchtime - this was at work - but was sidetracked. When I got home I was determined to just sit outside for ten minutes while I could.

I sat on the front step, around sunset. I'd forgotten that white mums turn pink in the cold - at least, some do. And there's the lavender I never planted. 

The next day we had a lot of wind and many leaves came down. 

Things are starting to look bare. 

like the music of a trumpet

 What can be said about a day that's perfect? How can it be described? 

It's been warm and summery, but takes several hours to get up there and then goes down for the night, so not too warm for soup. The sky, so deep and blue. I washed two windows in the balmy warmth. Tonight it will be cool, but not cold. Yes, very perfect.

"The air is cool as an old coin teaspoon, and a faint tang of blue woodsmoke spices the wind. The color of the great sugar maples is so dazzling it seems I must have dreamed it. The maples give forth light, like closer suns. The oaks glow with a garnet fire, and all the thickets blaze with scarlets and pale gold and cinnamon. It is like the music of a trumpet."

                                              -  Gladys Taber

a prayer for good humor

 During his homily, Father read this poem by St. Thomas More:

Prayer for Good Humor

Grant me, O Lord, good digestion, and also something to digest.
Grant me a healthy body, and the necessary good humor to maintain it.
Grant me a simple soul that knows to treasure all that is good
And that doesn't frighten easily at the sight of evil,
but rather finds the means to put things back in their place.
Give me a soul that knows not boredom, grumblings, sighs and laments,
nor excess of stress, because of that obstructing thing called "I".
Grant me, O Lord, a sense of good humor.
Allow me the grace to be able to take a joke, to discover in life a bit of joy,
and to be able to share it with others.

preparation

 October continues in all its beauty, with the past week's temps down into the fifties, which is lovely when it's sunny. But now we're moving into a few days up into the seventies. That will also be lovely, and I can hopefully get the bulk of the windows cleaned.

There was one day last week when I got the Wordle in two tries - when that happens, it's always pure luck.

I have to work tomorrow afternoon, so I prepared a casserole for Sunday dinner, since we had leftovers from Thursday, and I had the time. I peeled and cut up one of the butternut squash I grew - amazing how things grow from seed. The recipe appeared in a magazine we get at the supermarket, and this issue has several things I'd like to make. For this one, I had the squash, I had the kale, the onion, and the exact amount of cooked chicken from the whole one I roasted the other day, after making chicken and tortellini soup Thursday. 

I only had to buy the Swiss cheese. It sure looks good!

The supermarket had a special on packages of Larabars, but not every flavor. I only have liked the peanut butter ones: the plain, and the chocolate chip. But those weren't on sale, so I took a chance and got the Chocolate Raspberry Truffle. Oh, my. They will make an excellent afternoon pick-me-up. 

This morning before rising, I read the chapter on the council of Elrond, in Lord of the Rings. So much wisdom imparted to Frodo and his fellows as they prepare to bear the ring to Mordor:

The road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far upon it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.

                                                               - The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien

morning surprise

 I know this is the worst photo ever.

At the moment, sunrise is around seven o'clock here, and this morning at seven my brother was outside watering some shrubs before taking his walk. He called to me that the sky was pink and I said it is that way from time to time at sunrise. But then he said there was an orange rainbow and you could see it from the front of the house. Well, I didn't have my contacts in yet, but I went out on the front step to look; I didn't see any rainbow. So, I went to the back door (which is not in back, but on the side of the house), and I saw it, across the street. It was fading, but he said it had been pretty bright. 

Okay, we all know the conditions for a rainbow, I think - I always run outside to look for one after a rain, when the sun is bright somewhere and the clouds are still dark on the other side. But it hadn't been raining. It was dry. And, our rainbows are always in the east, in the back of the house, never across the street, in the west. Not to mention that I never heard of an orange rainbow - mostly orange, he said. 

I can only assume it was due to the aurora, which has been appearing even where we live, a couple of times. Nothing like in northern Europe, but more like a bright pink sky well after dark, at night. So, is this connected to that? It must have to do with the electromagnetic activity.

suddenly bright

 The swamp maple must have turned brilliant when I was looking the other way.

"Every season has its own glory in New England, for every month has its own separate identity, different personality. October is the dramatic month, everyone knows about autumn in New England."

                                        -  Gladys Taber

October the perfect

I think I must say this every October, but - today was perfect, and I think a day like this, here where I live, only appears in October. Deep blue sky, strong breeze, dry air, beautiful colors in the trees.  Absolutely perfect, and delightful. In the seventies. It was heavenly, and also, the song of the mockingbird in the distance several times throughout the day and out my window in the early morning! It couldn't have been better.

I was asking myself if we don't have perfect days like this in May, maybe? But no. May is a nice month here, when things are getting warmer. But there is a big difference (in my view) in a month where you're getting warm after a cold few months, and a month where you're already nice and warm, coming into a cooler season. A big difference. Not to mention that I prefer the colors of the bright leaves to the flowering trees - sorry, but yes! There can be mud in May, but October is - totally beautiful. 

Unless you're in North Carolina. May God have mercy on them, because the government certainly isn't. 

frail flowers

 If Hope, by Christina Rossetti

 If hope grew on a bush,
And joy grew on a tree,
What a nosegay for the plucking
There would be!

But oh! in windy autumn,
When frail flowers wither,
What should we do for hope and joy,
Fading together?

communion

 "Love leads to communion, and communion allows everyone to move forward in harmony. Communion is not a happiness passively enjoyed, but it struggles to maintain a fraternal spirit and to open the doors of this fraternity to all people. By nature, love propagates itself; it is contagious, communicates to others, and draws everyone to communion. 

I must engrave this maxim within myself: 'Communion is the struggle of every moment.' A moment's neglect can destroy it; a mere trifle suffices: a single thought without charity, an obstinately maintained prejudice, a harmful attachment, a personal ambition or interest, an action done for myself and not for the Lord, returning to a bad habit already abandoned, the desire for personal satisfaction that overrides what is pleasing to the Lord. 

Help me, Lord, to examine myself in this way: Who is the center of my life: you or me? If you are the center, then everyone will be gathered into unity. But if, instead, I see that people around me lose interest and disperse, that will be a sign that I have put myself at the center."

                                                             -  Cardinal Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan

a little crop

 On Sunday, September the 22nd, I started reading Lord of the Rings again. I was feeling the pull, but thought I'd wait till Bilbo's birthday.

We had a nice, soft, quiet rainfall the other day, finally. It's been very dry for the better part of two months. 

I decided to harvest my butternut squashes. There were four of them, but one was lost; it had detached from the vine and rotted, all because I am an inattentive gardener. 

Still, it's amazing to see these things grown from one small seed. I would like to save one for Thanksgiving.

There is a lovely white cloud of tiny asters out there in the tangle of my garden, and tomorrow is Michaelmas. At least I assume that's what they are - it's the right time of year, but they are usually larger than these.

They're charming, anyway. We're in a warmer, humid spell, so I stopped washing the windows for a bit. I like doing them when it feels like fall's really here. There are other things to do. 

The images out of Tennessee and North Carolina are terrifying. May God have mercy on them.

"the Shadow takes another shape and grows again.

I wish it need not have happened in my time, said Frodo.

So do I, said Gandalf, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

just some Chat

It was really cool today; overcast all day, with a kind of damp feeling. The temps were in the sixties, so it's not cold, but I was chilly in the house. We haven't had a frost yet, and don't expect one till mid-October, but it feels different, and I'm getting out my more fall-ish clothes by little and little. I can't just get them all out if I don't feel like it's time yet. I have heard that Britain had a frost, and that surprises me, since they have a milder climate than we.

We heard the Great Horned Owl again last night. And then within the hour, I twice heard an animal - I don't know, screeching, screaming, or whatever it was, it didn't sound good. I don't know the sounds of our wild creatures in distress, so it could have been anyone. I don't like to think of it.

I read a little further in The Distant Mirror. It surprised me that there was a push to abolish the mendicant orders right after the Black Plague. My brother didn't find an answer in any of his books, so I appealed to chatgpt.com. This is what they said, and I'm pasting it from their website:

"In the mid-14th century, several factors contributed to a growing critique of mendicant orders, such as the Franciscans and Dominicans. Here are some key reasons:

1. Economic Strain: The mendicant orders relied on alms and donations, and as economic conditions worsened due to events like the Black Death, there was less money to go around. This made their support more contentious.

2. Corruption and Criticism: Some mendicants faced accusations of corruption and failing to live up to their vows of poverty. As their numbers grew, issues like the accumulation of wealth and property arose, leading to disillusionment among both the laity and within the Church.

3. Intellectual Rivalry: The rise of university-educated clergy led to a tension between mendicants and secular clergy. The former were often viewed as more radical or extreme in their interpretations of poverty and spirituality, causing friction with established church authorities.

4. Reform Movements: The 14th century saw various reform movements within the Church aimed at addressing perceived moral and spiritual decay. Some reformers saw mendicants as part of the problem rather than the solution.

5. Political Context: The political landscape of Europe was also shifting, and local governments began to exert more control over religious orders. This often meant limiting the power and influence of mendicants, who were sometimes seen as too independent.

These factors combined to create a climate where the mendicant orders faced increasing scrutiny and calls for reform or even abolition."

Well, it makes sense, especially number one and number five, I think.  The reason I even thought of ChatGPT, was because my brother had asked it a detailed question previously on the beliefs held by the early Church fathers, and it was surprisingly accurate and thorough. So, if you're stumped over anything, give it a try. 

Some leaves are starting to fall.

                                     

the passion of patiences

 "The passion, our passion, sure we are waiting for it. We know it must come and we intend to live it with a certain grandeur. We are waiting for the bell to ring that will inform us that the time has come for us to sacrifice ourselves. Like a log in the fireplace, we know that we have to be consumed. Like a piece of wool cut with scissors, we have to be separated. Like young animals that are sent to slaughter, we have to be destroyed.

We are waiting for our passion but it does not come. In its place there come small patiences.

Patiences, those small pieces of the passion whose job it is to kill us gently for your glory, to kill us without our getting the glory.

From dawn they come to greet us: our nerves, either too much on edge or too numb....It is the urge to be silent when we ought to speak; and the urge to speak when we ought to be silent. It is the desire to go out when we ought to stay in; and the urge to stay in when we have to go out. It is our disgust with our daily ration of life and the neurotic desire for all that is not ours.

This is the way our patiences come, in serried ranks or in single file, and they always forget to remind us of the fact that they are the martyrdom for which we were preparing. And scornfully we let them pass by, as we wait for a cause that would be worth dying for.

If every redemption is a martyrdom, not every martyrdom involves the spilling of blood. From the beginning of our lives to the very end, one by one, grapes may be picked from the bunch. This is the passion of patiences."

                                                  -  Madeleine Delbrel, from Magnificat, September 2024

the third time will be the charm

 I wore my blue skirt again yesterday, and it caught on my sandal's buckle again, even after machine-stitching the hem. So, today I cut it off just above the hem and it's pinned up and ready to be hemmed again. I'll do it by hand; it will be shorter and won't catch on my buckles anymore.

just an orange

WHAT IS PINK?

What is pink? a rose is pink
By the fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro'.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? why, an orange,
Just an orange?

by Christina Rossetti                                                

a focus in one's reading habits

 I just found this here:

"At fixed hours time should be given to certain definite reading. Haphazard reading, constantly varied and lighted on by chance does not edify but makes the mind unstable. Taken into the memory lightly, it leaves it even more lightly. You should concentrate on certain authors and let your mind grow used to them….

Some part of your daily reading should be committed to memory every day, taken as it were into the stomach, to be more carefully digested and brought up again for frequent rumination—something in keeping with your vocation and helpful to concentration, something that will take hold of the mind and save it from distraction.

The reading should also stir your affections and give rise to prayer, which should interrupt your reading—an interruption which should not so much impede the reading as to restore to it a mind evermore purified for understanding.

For reading serves the purpose of the intention with which it is done. If a reader truly seeks God in the reading, everything he reads tends to promote that end, making the mind surrender in the course of the reading and bring all that is understood into Christ’s service."

                                                    -   William of St. Thierry

I guess I'm a princess

 I got a crown today.  At the dentist's.

accepting suffering

 "It is when we attempt to avoid suffering by withdrawing from anything that might involve, hurt, when we try to spare ourselves the effort and pain of pursuing truth, love, and goodness, that we drift into a life of emptiness, in which there may be almost no pain, but the dark sensation of meaninglessness and abandonment is all the greater. It is not by sidestepping or fleeing from suffering that we are healed, but rather by our capacity for accepting it, maturing through it and finding meaning through union with Christ, who suffered with infinite love..."

                                                                   -  Pope Benedict XVI

the September feeling

 Today, I think fall has really arrived. I've been waiting for that September feeling, and was thinking maybe I'd missed it. 

It's the stillness - well, there may be a breeze, or not, but the stillness is not in the air; it's just a still feeling. If you're paying attention you will notice the buzzing of the insects, but it's in the background, it's the soundtrack to the whole business.

Everything is drier, overgrown and blowsy. The sky is bluer. 

My brother went on a retreat for a couple of days; when he does this, he'll email me photos of his room, and the menus. Parmesan tilapia was something they served. I had some cod, and an idea. I spread Dijon mustard all over the pieces with some dillweed, then sprinkled Parmesan on top. It was very delicious! We had it with mushroom barley soup (also on one of his menus) and steamed broccoli (another menu item). I have fun doing this. Small pleasures.

He told me something shocking today. When he built the shed, which may be twenty years ago, the plywood cost him eighteen dollars a sheet for the larger pieces, and twelve for some that were not so big. He said the same wood now costs - brace yourself - eighty nine dollars. I'm shocked. Plywood.

keeping it all together

 Well, my time off has been lovely; a friend was over for lunch Wednesday. But then yesterday I felt like I might be coming down with something and I've been resting a lot these two days. It could be allergies, or even resulting from too many late nights and still waking up early - it does catch up with one.

I've grabbed a Jane Austen mystery for entertainment, the fourth one. I tend to forget the murderer's identity when I re-read a mystery, and just enjoy the writing. 

I desperately needed a new bedspread or quilt - whatever. I ended up getting a duvet cover. I don't have a duvet - all these European words that we didn't used to use; I always called it a comforter, or puff - I've got plenty of quilts, throws and blankets, and don't need or want one. My intention in buying this was to stuff it with quilt batting and machine-stitch it. When it arrived, I gave up the idea. It is so tightly woven, like a quality sheet, that it would be a pain to work with in that way. I love it as us, and just lay it over the bed. It's so pretty, and I got it on sale.

The colors blend harmoniously with the overall scheme of the house, which I'm trying harder to stick to.

"One can do nothing, you know, without one pays homage to the genius of the place."

                                           -   from Jane and the Genius of the Place, by Stephanie Barron

time to take time

 I took this week off from work, and it couldn't be better, weather-wise. Sunny but dry, most days. Dreamy. I'm doing what I want, every day, within reason, of course. Doing what needs to be done, and enjoying nature. 

"...being attentive to the times of the day: when the birds began to sing, and the deer came out of the morning fog, and the sun came up. The reason why we don't take time is a feeling that we have to keep moving. This is a real sickness. We live in the fullness of time. Every moment is God's own good time, His kairos. The whole thing boils down to giving ourselves in prayer a chance to realize that we have what we seek. We don't have to rush after it. It was there all the time, and if we give it time, it will make itself known to us."

                                                 -   Thomas Merton 

things to be grateful for

 "Given belief in God, a good digestion and a mind in working order life's still a thing to be grateful for."

                                                       -  Elizabeth Goudge,  A City of Bells

work

 It's Labor Day over here in the U.S. It doesn't have a lot of meaning for the residents as far as I can tell, but it's a holiday, which is always nice. 

 I was finishing up my reading of Esther de Waal's, Seeking God: the Way of St. Benedict:

"...Christ is to be found in the circumstances, the people, the things of daily life. St. Benedict hopes that if we are continually aware of this we shall life our hearts to him and in this way our whole life will become a prayer in action. 

The work of God has two senses: our offering to God and his work in us. ... that we live open to grace. 

Daisy oversees my washing of the table

divine warmth over our whole life

 from Magnficat the other day:

"It has been well said that religion is not something; it is Someone. It is the Holy Trinity in us; it is Jesus, chosen and preferred.

My little children, abide in my love (from John 33). In thus asking you for your heart, Jesus gives you life. Love is life; it is the sun, the light, a divine warmth over our whole life. Without this love, you live a shallow life; you vegetate. Externally you do your spiritual exercises, fulfill the duties of your state in life, but if your heart is not there, life is not there. Without love, everything is painful, everything is tiring, everything is burdensome.

The cross, taken up hesitantly, is crushing; taken smilingly, by free will, and with love, it will carry you much more than you carry it. Love makes time eternal by giving a divine value to everything. There is an expression I do not life: We must carry out the duties of piety, a little like the duty to answer a letter, to pay a visit; or like the duties of servants toward their masters, although what Jesus wants is friendship. He will reward us for duties done because he is so good, but what an abyss between the two ways of doing things: for duty or for love. Louis Veuillot wrote, Dry duty is a cold and hard master who does not console anyone and who is terribly boring. Speak to me of loving God, that I may fulfill with joy the duty he assigns to me, and keep the great joy of love which is sacrifice. In this way, supernaturalize by love the duties of your state in life.

                                                                -  Fr. Jean du Coeur de Jesus d'Elbee

it fades

 Well, it's the Labor Day weekend, and there was just now a lot of noise outside. I had no idea of Labor Day warranting a firework display, but we had it. Well, I was ironing and too busy to look out the window. I have no doubt poor Annie was hopeful it wouldn't last very long. 

a different day, watching a bug on the ceiling

My little knitting project is coming along now; I had switched to a larger needle size, but switched back, and now I'm ready to decrease and bind off the bear's body. I can hear the katydids out the window, with the tree frogs singing in the background. It's strange to think there are actually frogs in the trees, since I don't anybody who's ever seen them. But they provide background music at nights in late summer.

It fades - this green, this lavish interval,
This time of flowers and fruits,
Of melon ripe along the orchard wall,
Of sun and sails and wrinkled linen suits;
Time when the world seems rather plus than minus
And pollen tickles the allergic sinus.

- Phyllis McGinley