a little pilgrimage

 We went on a little field trip to the cathedral in the city, a pilgrimage. 

I had been there for Sunday mass a few times - it's a modern-looking place. But I learned something years ago from watching Sister Wendy's art series on tv. You can just say you don't like a certain painting, or artist, or style, or you can learn something about it, the history of it, and at least have an appreciation and a respect for it. And so, I went on this bus ride with a little group from church. 

old bishop's crozier

A cheerful and friendly priest met us there, and took us all around in an unhurried way, showing us all sorts of things I hadn't seen before. It must have taken an hour, but I didn't look at my watch.

this sort of thing always seems medieval to me - not sure why

The stained glass was all made in France.

It wasn't all so modern, though.

There were a few of these along the sides.

These windows do not have metal in between the colors, as most do, but concrete. The original church was destroyed by a fire, and they were determined to make this new place as fireproof as possible. The pews are wood, but that's about all.

Fr. M. was a well-informed guide. There are several side chapels, and he pointed out some patterns in the marble floor.

This is not a whimsical addition, but a real snail fossil in the stone! 

 St. Patrick has one of the little chapels.

 This statue seems quite old to me -

this is in the sacristy

This is behind the altar

I find it touching. Judgment Day.

the Just Judge

He heard confessions afterward, and then it was time for the noon mass. 

And home, with quiet spirits.

"The jubilee calls for us to set out on a journey and to cross boundaries. When we travel, we do not only change place physically, but we also change ourselves."

the shining thing

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
I am this dark world's light;
Look unto me, thy morn shall rise,
and all thy day be bright.

Margary, whom she had last seen white and fear-stricken, had color in her cheeks now and her eyes shone...Winkle's face, puce with rage a short time ago, had now resumed its normal rosiness and it was obvious that if Winkle had ever had a care she had forgotten it....Such things had no existence here..The children ate their biscuits and drank their milk, and the stormcock sang, and Mary thought, "I will remember about this rainbow place. When my own particular experience seems dark and hard I'll remember that it's really a shining thing holding like a flower to the branches of the tree, and that I travel in it, like Cinderella in her coach, to the ending of the days. And up above me in the tree the Seraph sings, and sometimes he sings peace for us and sometimes courage, praise, truth, love, death, but he is always the same Seraph. Who is he? On Mount Alverno Saint Francis saw a great crucified Seraph above him, filling the heavens. I'll remember."

                                                        -   Elizabeth Goudge, The Rosemary Tree

I looked to Jesus and I found 
In him my Star, my Sun;
And in that light of life I'll walk
Till traveling days are done. *

*words by Horatio Bonar, the melody is an old English one, adapted by Ralph Vaughan Williams

moving along through summer

the little landscape round was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye*

 

Summer is moving along too fast. I've worked extra a number of times; the heat has kept me in more than I would like - I think, after today, we'll have a break in the hot and humid weather. We haven't even opened the windows the past two nights, but it looks like the upcoming evening temperatures will be down in the sixties - I feel cooler just thinking of it!

There are a few youtube sewing channels I like to follow - these women like to sew all their clothes and they seem to whiz along, so even though I don't, watching them is motivating. My blue linen top just needs the hem binding, and will be done. I realized I've got a lot of blue in my summer wardrobe all of a sudden - oh, well. I think navy suits me pretty well. 

I bought a new rug for my bedroom; Daisy is often on it. I came home from work yesterday, and she was there. It's wool - can it be she has an appreciation for quality?  :D Annie also likes it, but Daisy is with me more often.

*  Coleridge, from Reflections on Having Left a Place of Retirement

"It was a spot which you might aptly call the Valley of Seclusion.......it was a Blessed Place."

being drawn into the divine life

 "When you love those who hate you, you confuse and confound them, taking away the very energy that feeds their hatred.

We want God to behave as we would - that is to say, to withdraw his love from those who don't deserve it and to give his love to those who do deserve it. But this is just not the way God operates.

Why should you pray for someone who is persecuting you? Why shouldn't you be allowed at least to answer him in kind - an eye for an eye? Because God doesn't operate that way, and you are being drawn into the divine life.

Why should you turn the other cheek to someone who has struck you? Because it's practical? No - because that's the way God operates, and you're being called into the divine life.

Why should you go beyond simply loving those who love you? Because that's the way God operates; he loves the saints and he loves the worst of sinners.

Is any of this easy to do? No, of course not. Are we able to get to this state through willing it, through earnest practice? Of course not. That's why love is referred to as a theological virtue. It is the sheerest participation in the divine life, and it can only come from God. But God does offer this gift to us when we ask for it in prayer."

                                                                  -   Bishop Robert Barron

life and growth

A rabbit got into the garden last week. He didn't seem to eat anything we would regret. They seem to find so much among the grass, God bless them. A simple diet is best, isn't it? Then I didn't see any rabbits for a week, until today when there were two baby ones, running around the hedges. So, it continues. 

Look what somebody dropped off at the library this week.

I love this story. Look at the cover!

So elegant, with the gold edging. But there's a fragrance, like the previous owner wore perfume and now the book has it. I might just bring it back - I don't fancy having to smell that whenever I read it. Such a disappointment.

I was reading in St. Matthew's gospel, near the beginning, and it said that after the Magi came and asked where the child was who was born king of the Jews, "he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him". I never noticed that before - all Jerusalem was frightened? How interesting. 

I picked a handful of beans today and steamed them; my brother can have them with his eggs tomorrow for supper.

and you thought journalism was dead

 With all the mentions I've made of Raynor Winn's The Salt Path over the past few years, I feel it incumbent upon me to make this post.

I was on youtube yesterday when a little video popped up. This one. A reporter at The Observer dug deep and found out that the Winns' real names are Sally and Tim Walker They are basically embezzlers and tax evaders, for a start. Three books were written, to acclaim, and now the film is out; I've been waiting for it to show over here. Now, I don't think I can bring myself. The full article - very thorough and interesting - is here.

I really am stunned. Of course we know these things go on. But it was a great story, and so hopeful, the way Moth seemed to get better after these long hikes they went on. They're not even sure now about the truth of his illness, and that whole part of it.

What really amazes me is that she has done so many interviews, her face has been everywhere, for those who've been following their story, and didn't she think that someday they'd be found out? That nobody they've ever known would be watching the news? What will happen now? You can run, but you can't hide forever, and especially not when you're famous. Incredible.

About "journalism". This reporter, Chloe Hadjimatheou, did a stellar job. But there is altogether too much of this: 

But I do agree with them on one point: They are extremely dangerous to our democracy.

o hear our song, God of all the nations

 

This is my song, O God of all the nations,

A song of peace for lands afar and mine;

This is my home, the country where my heart is;

Here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:

But other hearts in other lands are beating

With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

This was sung during Mass today, I'm sure because of our Independence Day holiday this weekend.

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,

And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;

But other lands have sunlight too, and clover,

And skies are everywhere as blue as mine:

O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,

A song of peace for their land and for mine.

The hymn, sung to the melody from Finlandia by Sibelius, speaks of his great love for his homeland, but without that sense of superiority that can border on the dangerous. 

May truth and freedom come to every nation;

May peace abound where strife has raged so long;

That each may seek to love and build together,

A world united, righting every wrong;

A world united in its love for freedom,

proclaiming peace together in one song.

It's so moving, especially at a time in world history when the real possibility of war threatens everything dear and familiar to us.

a lot of sparkle

I had just shut off the a/c, opened my side window, and was watching the pretty sparkle of the fireflies, when someone on the street behind us set off quite a colorful display of fireworks. So much for the quiet beauty of nature.

Daisy is in my back window, watching fireworks set off by another neighbor - it looks like a big sparkler, or something. Annie is on the hallway chair, which is brave for her; she isn't hiding. Our town event is scheduled for Tuesday, so this sort of nightly show may happen again. For the first time in days, I don't hear the mockingbird. Well, the creatures don't know what to make of the loud noises and I feel sorry for them. 

I don't know where I've been - mentally - for the past week. I always mean to post, but something gets in the way. I am making a linen top: sleeveless and simple, and I've been researching various ways of cutting bias strips. There are many, and it's interesting! I have to bind the neck and armholes and didn't want to use the packaged stuff. 

I've been experimenting with strawberry frozen yogurt, and frozen coconut milk pops, coffee-flavored. Something cold for the mouth must be kept on hand at all times in summer heat!