Ravinia

A few days ago we made our annual summer visit to Ravinia, the outdoor concert venue in Highland Park, Illinois. In the past my husband and I have seen James Taylor, Elvis Costello, and Bruce Hornsby there. This year we decided it was time to take our two teenaged children with us (we got a babysitter for the six-year-old). And this time instead of going to see a pop/rock concert, we saw the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, performing Rachmaninoff's First Symphony in D-minor and his Second Piano Concerto in C-minor with special guest, pianist Denis Matsuev. This concert was chosen not only because we love Rachmaninoff but also because my oldest son learned the third movement of the Second Piano Concerto this past year, and we thought it would be particularly enjoyable to hear it played live by a world class pianist.

You just can't beat the Ravinia experience. Lawn tickets for this concert were only $12/person, considerably less than we would have had to pay for a concert at Symphony Center in downtown Chicago. And you can't beat the natural setting. No need to dress up! We packed up a picnic basket of summer sausage, Italian hard salami, cheese, crackers, hummus, pita chips, carrots, grapes, apples, and brownies, plus a bottle of wine for Mom & Dad, loaded up our lawn chairs, and arrived at the park before 7:00, in plenty of time to enjoy some food and relaxation before the 8:00 performance. We were thankful that the rain that had been forecast for the evening came and went before we left home and did not at all hinder our plans, in fact cooling things off quite nicely.

It is possible to purchase reserved seating in the open air auditorium. But those tickets are much more costly. And why pay almost four times more per ticket for this . . .



. . . when you can have this?

Here are Phillip, Caitlin and Trevor, engaging in what is no doubt some highly erudite and profound conversation before the show.

And what would Ravinia be without a little pre-concert silliness?

I just love those two.

The really nice thing about a symphony concert at Ravinia is that when it is time to listen, people listen. The only distractions were the insects and the occasional train going by. (Not so the pop concerts. There's a lot of crowd noise at those. Of course, the music is much louder, so I guess it doesn't matter much.)

Once the music started, the silliness stopped, as did the conversation. But the neat thing about Ravinia is the freedom to listen in the way that suits you best. Some find it most helpful to close their eyes and let the music envelop them. Others find it enjoyable to engage in some sketching or writing while soaking in the sounds. It's possible to continue consuming your snacks or beverage of choice while you listen, or to stretch out on your blanket and look at the sky. Some (ahem) find the whole experience so relaxing that they may even doze off from time to time. (Okay, okay, I missed a little of the Symphony. I was so tired.)

If you live in the Chicago area and have never enjoyed a concert at the summer Ravinia festival, I highly recommend it. Maybe we'll see you there!

A Proverbs 31 Woman

Sometimes my friends and I joke about how we are not, never have been, and never will be Proverbs 31 women. For those who aren't sure what a Proverbs 31 woman looks like, here's the Bible passage:

An excellent wife who can find?
She is far more precious than jewels.
The heart of her husband trusts in her,
and he will have no lack of gain.
She does him good, and not harm,
all the days of her life.
She seeks wool and flax,
and works with willing hands.
She is like the ships of the merchant;
she brings her food from afar.
She rises while it is yet night
and provides food for her household
and portions for her maidens.
She considers a field and buys it;
with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
She dresses herself with strength
and makes her arms strong.
She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.
Her lamp does not go out at night.
She puts her hands to the distaff,
and her hands hold the spindle.
She opens her hand to the poor
and reaches out her hands to the needy.
She is not afraid of snow for her household,
for all her household are clothed in scarlet.
She makes bed coverings for herself;
her clothing is fine linen and purple.
Her husband is known in the gates
when he sits among the elders of the land.
She makes linen garments and sells them;
she delivers sashes to the merchant.
Strength and dignity are her clothing,
and she laughs at the time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.
(Proverbs 31:10-21, English Standard Version)

Sigh. That smarts. Is there any phrase in there I can claim? Let's take it a little at a time.

An excellent wife who can find?
She is far more precious than jewels.

Well, I like jewels. Does that count? No, I didn't think so. Strike one.

The heart of her husband trusts in her,
and he will have no lack of gain.
She does him good, and not harm,
all the days of her life.

He does seem to trust me. But I think that says more about him than it does about me. Strike two.

She seeks wool and flax,
and works with willing hands.

Okay, we're done here. Wool and flax? Working with willing hands? Are you kidding? But I guess I started this thing. I'd better finish it.

She is like the ships of the merchant;
she brings her food from afar.

How about "She brings her food from Jewel"? Or Trader Joe's? Does that count?

She rises while it is yet night

Ding, ding, ding, ding! Got one! Finally! (Of course, in all honesty it should probably read, "She rises while it is yet night so that she can have a little peace and quiet before her family wakes up and starts making demands on her time." Strike--oh, who knows? I've lost count.)

and provides food for her household

Hey, it doesn't say what kind of food! I'm gonna give myself a point for this one.

and portions for her maidens.

I would if I had any! (Maidens being servant girls.) We're cooking now!

She considers a field and buys it;

Can I change the word "field" to something like "shoes" or "coffee" or "chocolate" or "wine"?

with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.

Um, no. The garden is all his doing. I tend to make green things die.

She dresses herself with strength
and makes her arms strong.
She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.
Her lamp does not go out at night.
She puts her hands to the distaff,
and her hands hold the spindle.

I don't even know what a distaff is. Or a spindle. Moving on.

She opens her hand to the poor
and reaches out her hands to the needy.

And how often I have chosen to serve myself before others I am ashamed to say. This is getting ugly.

She is not afraid of snow for her household,
for all her household are clothed in scarlet.
She makes bed coverings for herself;
her clothing is fine linen and purple.
Her husband is known in the gates
when he sits among the elders of the land.

Uh-huh, that's my guy. Finally, something I can relate to.

She makes linen garments and sells them;
she delivers sashes to the merchant.
Strength and dignity are her clothing,
and she laughs at the time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.

My family will kindly remain silent at this time.

She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.

Just shoot me now.

Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.”

You know, for some reason I can't figure out, my children and my husband actually say these things. Go figure.

Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,

And both are sadly rare and fleeting.

but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.

If I am going to have to look to to my works and the fruit of my hands for validation, I am in big, big trouble.

And yet . . . "a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised." She is "far more precious than jewels." She clothes herself in "strength" and her household in "scarlet" and "laughs at the time to come."

It's not Law, friends. It's Gospel. It's not about what we do out of our own strength. It's about how in our weakness we are clothed in the scarlet love and forgiveness of Christ Jesus that enables us to laugh in the face of sin, death, and the devil. We don't fear the day of judgment. We joyfully await its coming because it means our struggles are at an end. We learn from our Saviour Himself that the relationship between the Church and her Head is like the relationship between a bride and groom on their wedding day. As the hymnist writes:

Zion hears the watchmen singing,
And all her heart with joy is springing;
She wakes, she rises from her gloom;
For her Lord comes down all glorious,
The strong in grace, in truth victorious.
Her Star is risen, her Light is come.
(Wake, Awake, for Night is Flying, Philipp Nicolai 1556-1608)

In spite of all my failings as wife and mother, my children rise up and call me "blessed" and my dear husband says I have done "excellently." And to the extent that they are looking at me through the eyes of Christ, they are right. Jesus went to the cross for me and in so doing purchased me for Himself. So yeah, I would say I am worth a lot more than a bag of rubies and diamonds. And so are you.

There's a cottage industry out there of sites dedicated to helping a woman live a more virtuous life by trying to follow the example of Proverbs 31. Here's just one:

A Virtuous Woman

It's not a terrible idea. It's well-intentioned. And I'm sure I could learn a thing or two about being a good wife and mother by considering some of the suggestions there. But ultimately, Proverbs 31 is not a "How-To" manual any more than the rest of the Bible is. It's about what God has done in making me the woman He always intended for me to be.

Children's Cantata

Last month our church offered a one-week music camp for children. The bulk of the camp was spent preparing a cantata based on the appointed Gospel for the Sunday after the camp. The cantata was composed by my husband after registration for the camp was closed, so he knew the number of participants and their ages, talents, and abilities, and composed accordingly (kind of like J. S. Bach himself used to do on a weekly basis!). The video below, of the first movement of the cantata, shows the result. The only adults involved in this performance were my husband, conducting, and his associate cantor, playing piano. All other instrumental and vocal parts were taken by children from approximately age 8 to age 14. The camp ran Monday-Friday from 9-11:45 daily.

Amazing what children can accomplish when you give them the chance and the tools to do so, isn't it?

Over the next few days, I will post the entire cantata, but I have to do it in parts because I am limited on how much video I can upload at a time to Vimeo (I have the free, basic account).

Enjoy! (The text of the chorus is below the video.)

"The Cost of Following Jesus" - Luke 9:51-62 - I. Chorus from Cheryl on Vimeo.

I. Chorus

All for Christ I have forsaken And have taken up my cross.
Worldly joy, its fame and fortune Now I count as worthless dross.

Who is sweeter than Christ Jesus? No good thing in Him I lack!
Hand to plow, at peace I follow Where He leads me . . . why look back?

Gone the past, unknown the future; Grace supplies my daily breath;
Strong in Christ through death's dark valley, Firm and faithful unto death.

A Tale of Two Blog Titles

Well, how about that? Seems Yours Truly was named Issues, Etc. Blog of the Week (along with Rev. Paul McCain at Cyberbrethren). I am honored. My sincere thanks to Issues producer Jeff Schwarz for choosing me. How do I get my badge? :-)

Just one little nitpick. When he read my post on the air, Jeff referred to my blog as Round Unvarnish'd Table (with a "b" in the last word, as in a piece of furniture). But the title of my blog is not Round Unvarnish'd Table, but Round Unvarnish'd Tale (as in story, narrative, report, yarn, vignette, anecdote, chronicle, summary, write-up . . . you get the idea).

I told Jeff not to feel bad. My blog title has been misread countless times over the years. For the longest time my mom wasn't able to find it because she kept searching for a table rather than a tale. (Which I totally understand. My dad was a handy sort who used to make all kinds of things, including furniture, but who was much more interested in functionality than aesthetics. I think we probably had several round unvarnished tables sitting around our house when I was growing up.)

Anyway, considering my recent brush with fame, I thought now would be a good time to revisit the whole blog title thing. So, everyone, repeat after me. Three times, please. "Round Unvarnish'd Tale. Round Unvarnish'd TALE. Round Unvarnish'd TALE."

Thank you. :-)

And while we're on the topic, here's a little background on how I came to name my blog. When I started blogging roughly three years ago I imagined my blog would at times have a literary angle (seeing as how I used to be an English teacher). So I wanted a title that would reflect that by having something to do with writing or speaking. What better place to look than Shakespeare? So I went digging and was reminded of this quotation from Othello:

“Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace:
For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field,
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
And therefore little shall I grace my cause
In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish’d tale deliver
Of my whole course of love.” —Othello, 1.3.81-91

Obviously my blog has nothing to do with the subject matter in Othello. But this quotation says sort of what I wanted to say in starting a blog. Othello is speaking to Desdemona about his wish to speak his "whole course of love" for her. But he is not sure he can do a good job because he is "rude" (common, plain, ineloquent) in speech. All he knows about is "feats of broil and battle, " not matters of the heart. So he asks her to be patient with him as he gives it his best shot, still fearing that he may little "grace" (help) his "cause" (winning her devotion) in the process.

So how do Othello's words apply to me? Well, I think I'm a decent writer, but I am limited in what I am able to write convincingly about (a novelist or playwright I am not). My little blog is pretty insignificant as blogs go, and I can't speak about much more than pertains to my own experience of the world in my everyday life (which does have its own kinds of broils and battles!). So to paraphrase, in speaking for myself (writing a blog) I may not grace my "cause" (the relating of my life) very much, but if you will grant your patience (keep reading) I hope you will find my blog to be a complete and bluntly honest ("round") and unadorned ("unvarnish'd") representation of the life of a homeschooling Lutheran literary/musical mommy type, and that every once in a while it will even offer you some encouragement and enlightenment.

Make sense?

It's Time to Take Time

Some years down the road, God willing, we in the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod will be looking back on this day, remembering where we were when Rev. Matthew Harrison was elected thirteenth president of the LCMS and sharing our memories of that pivotal moment when our church body was plucked off the slope of dissolution and placed on the path of healing.

So, let's practice. Here's my story. After a morning of leading music at Vacation Bible School, I returned home and had lunch with my children. I did a few chores and then shortly before the presidential election was scheduled to begin settled down in front of the computer to watch the live stream of the convention. I could hardly sit still. My hands were shaking, my stomach jumping. I closed my eyes, put my face in my hands, and said a whispered prayer. Then the phone rang. It was my husband, who is not a delegate but is attending the convention for the purpose of observing, reporting, disseminating information, and assisting the confessional effort in whatever way he can.

I didn't have to look at the caller I.D. to know it was him. I picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Are you watching?"

As soon as I heard his voice I started to cry.

"Yes," I replied, my voice catching.

"Are you praying?"

"Yes."

"Okay, it's time."

I realized as I heard the proceedings coming through my phone that the "live" stream was actually not live but a few seconds behind. So I turned down the volume on my computer and waited for my husband to break the news.

"They're voting," he said. "Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy."

Silence, as we waited for the end of the 8-second voting window.

Then . . .

"And Harrison wins! The next president of the LCMS is Matt Harrison!" This wasn't shouted. My husband was in the convention hall and restraint was called for. But I knew he was shouting with joy on the inside.

I couldn't believe it. "Really? He won?" Sobbing, I ran to the top of the stairs, phone still in hand, and called my son. "TREVOR! Pastor Harrison won!" (I would have called my teenage daughter, too, but she was at a friend's house for the afternoon.)

Trevor joined me upstairs and we sat together at my laptop, watching and waiting as our president-elect made his way towards the podium with his wife. As Trevor hugged me, I said a quick goodbye to my husband with a promise to talk later, and Trevor and I watched this incredible acceptance speech (speech begins at the 3-minute mark):



If that speech is any indication of the seriousness, humility, and cross-focused leadership that President Harrison intends to bring to his new calling, we may actually be able to chart that course for unifying our fractured synod. May God bless the LCMS and its new shepherd, Rev. Matthew Harrison, and may all of us who have been saying "It's Time" for these last many months now be willing to tell one another to "Take Time" as we turn our eyes to the future and watch and pray for healing.

So, what were you doing on July 13, 2010, at 2:42 p.m.?

Life Under the Cross

One of the things I love most about the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, in which I was confirmed as a young married twenty-something in the late 1980's (having been Roman Catholic in my teenage years), is its perfect understanding of salvation and the individual's role in obtaining it. As human beings we naturally (and sinfully) desire ultimate power over our own lives and credit for our accomplishments. No wonder, then, that we struggle so with realizing that when it comes to justification--being made righteous in the sight of God--we have no role to play. Martin Luther described the human condition as that of a beggar standing before God. There is nothing we can do to remove the stain of sin, nothing we can offer to earn God's forgiveness. We are utterly dependent upon God's mercy, and because God is God and He demands perfection, our only hope is to plant ourselves firmly behind the cross of Christ, trusting the Father's promise to impute the righteousness of the Son to those who live under that cross. As the pastor who confirmed me described it, God looks at the sinner through the lens of the cross and, seeing only the perfection of Jesus, likewise pronouces the sinner to be "poi-fect."

To realize that there is nothing I can do to gain salvation--indeed, nothing I need to do, since Jesus has done it for me--brings a feeling of peace, rest and freedom that goes beyond human words because it is not of this world. And yet, the sinful nature still fights against it, wanting to reclaim that power and control. I am the master of my destiny, after all. Aren't I? Aren't I helping just a little by what a good person I'm being and how hard I'm working? "No," says the Father, smiling gently. "No. You are a poor, miserable sinner. But you are my child whom I love, so much that I sent my own dear Son to live the perfect life you couldn't and to pay for the sins you couldn't pay for. Rest in His triumph over sin, death, and the grave. It is finished. There's nothing more to be done!"

Oh. Yeah. I forgot for a moment there. And on it goes--the daily forgetting and reminding that is the essence of the life of a Christian.

I think it may be that constant need of the sinner to be reminded of his sinful condition that leads to something I sometimes encounter among my Lutheran friends.* Because they so deeply understand their sinful state and love the theology of the cross, I think there is sometimes a tendency to put their sins on display in a way that is not necessarily helpful to either themselves or those with whom they come into contact. And because it is so easy to fall into the "try to be good so God will love me" trap, they overcompensate by trumpeting as loudly as possible what wretches they are, turning their shortcomings, weaknesses, and sinful nature into almost a point of pride or badge of honor: "Look at me! Look at what a messed up, sinful excuse for a human being I am! Can you believe it? I'm even more screwed up than you!"

And indeed, they are wretches. We all are, and again, one of the things I love most about Lutheran theology is how effectively that message is communicated. But I think there's a balance to be had. There's a difference between quietly hanging our heads in shame as we acknowledge our sins and perhaps even share them in hopes of pointing another towards Christ, and standing before the world, playing a game of sinner's one-ups-man-ship as we tick off our transgressions with Technicolor detail and provide the equivalent of a Powerpoint presentation on our messed up selves.

I sometimes even see what strikes me as intentionally edgy behavior that has as its goal the avoidance of the dreaded "pietist" label: "See? I appreciate wordly music and pleasures. I can swear and drink and party and tell dirty jokes with the best of them. I'm no goody-two-shoes holier-than-thou Pollyanna. I'm a sinner!" The mind reels with the possibilities. "See Dick sin. Sin, Dick, sin!"

I think that sometimes our sins, like our prayers, might be best kept between us and God: “And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you." (Matthew 6: 5-6)

And you know, there's nothing wrong with trying to be good as long as we realize that, while it will certainly make our earthly life and that of those around us better, it's not going to get us any closer to heaven.

*I do it, too.

Portrait of a Lady

I have always liked this painting, Song of the Lark (1884), by Jules Breton. My first memory of seeing it was some years ago at the Art Institute of Chicago. I was reminded of it again today while reading a post at the Concordian Sisters blog. Rebekah writes about what makes a Lady and concludes that she is not one: "I don't feel like a Lady. I feel like a peasant. Ladies live in manors, and I'm just not running a tea-and-crumpets operation here. More like, we're out of napkins; wipe it on your sock. Most days I hope to pass for 'windblown' rather than 'unwashed.' If there's a Ladylike way to dig up turnips or deal with an abominable diaper, I haven't found it."

I have never met Rebekah in person. For all I know she could be Roseanne Barr's twin sister. But having read her ponderings, corresponded with her off and on over the last few years, and listened to her reflections on motherhood on Issues, Etc., all I can say is she sure talks and writes like a lady. As I wrote in the comments section on Rebekah's post, I think that ladylikeness is not so much a matter of class or lifestyle--of getting manicures and having tea with your macaroons and turning on the air conditioning so as not to faint from the heat--but rather a question of temperament. My comment:

"It's about gentleness. And you don't have to be beautiful or particularly feminine or wear make-up or dresses or have smooth heels and elbows and no dirt under your fingers to be gentle. What is it they say about gentleness? You can't really have it unless there is strength there--a strength that is being reined in so as not to cause harm. I think ladylikeness is about humility and grace and subtlety. A Lady doesn't barge into a room; you just suddenly notice that she's there and you wonder where she came from. She doesn't call attention to herself by speaking loudly, but more often by speaking softly. She listens. She is not in too much of a hurry. She is kind and considerate of the feelings of others. She does not intentionally draw attention to herself.

"You can do all of those things without smelling good or getting a salon haircut or having a clean house. I'm betting a lot of CSPP gals who pooh-pooh the lady title are really closet ladies and just don't want to admit it. Come on, girls, embrace your Inner Lady! She's nothing to be ashamed of!"

I might add that I think a Lady is modest, not flashy. And she appreciates beauty. That is what I see in the painting: a young farm woman who has gone to the field to work in the early morning hours but who is distracted from her work by the song of a bird and who takes time to listen to and appreciate that song for a few moments.

So maybe I am all mixed up. And maybe the culture at large would disagree. But I think Ladies are strong when they need to be and gentle when they need to be. They are not afraid to get their hands dirty. They don't think they are too good to serve others. But in their strength and hardiness there is still softness. And they go about their vocation in quietness, without a lot of fanfare.

Here in my opinion is another painting of a Lady, this one by Camille Pissaro, 1881:

Young Peasant Woman Drinking Her Café Au Lait

Taking a few moments out of her day to have a cup of coffee by the window? That is not just a lady. That is One Smart Lady.

(And by the way, most of my friends and I have both our Ladyish and our Un-Ladyish moments. Just ask our families.)

From the archives

Schroeder is right. The answer is yes. I'm so glad I married the piano player. It is from him that I have learned what it means to have "all the nice things in life."

I love you, my dearest Phillip.

More Photos

My sister-in-law took all of these. Can you tell she has a better camera than I?

Brothers

Speedboat Fun

Silly Mirrors

Let's eat!

The Dunes

Nothing like reading a book on the beach while listening to the waves.

Water play!

At the Pier.

Waiting for the Ferris wheel riders

Riding the Lighthouse

What a goof.

Togetherness

Water gun fight!

Love

The Man

Warren Dunes, Michigan, 2010

So what does an Old Lutheran homeschooling family from Illinois do when they go to Lake Michigan on holiday?

Well, for one, they read.

They build.

They reflect.

They appreciate nature.

They rest.

And . . . they play!