Belonging

Long time no see! Not here, anyway!

I started my new job. It's been 3-1/2 weeks! I love it. Oh, how I love it. Last summer, when I got to do for a week what I am now doing all the time, my husband told me it was the happiest he had seen me in a long time. I think part of that may have been the result of coming out of probably the most difficult 7 years of our lives. But I think part of it was also the work.

I am so very thankful for this opportunity. Who gets their dream job at 53? Not many people. May I never stop being thankful for this gift.

I have been thinking about why I enjoy it so much. A big part of it is the work itself. I am a writer, and I somehow got a full-time writing job. Wow. Not only do I get to write and edit, but I get to do so in the service of my church. I can't imagine much better.

But I think there is something else at play. I have realized, finally in my fifties, that I have a very strong need to belong. I think it may come in part out of a lifetime of not really feeling like I belong. In a blended family, I grew up as "half" sibling to 10 others. My father had 4 children; my mom had 6; they had me. In a family with two "sides," it is hard to know exactly where you fit.

When I was in junior high, we moved. I was bullied and ostracized in my new school. That experience exacerbated my shyness/introversion to the point that I worried way too much in high school about being liked and fitting in. I had friends, but I think I could have had more if I had just relaxed and enjoyed people more.

As the wife of a church worker, I have found it difficult to know where I fit in at church. As nice as people are, when you're on staff, there's a bit of a wall, a feeling that you need to be on guard. It's just the way it is. So you turn to the staff for friendship. When that doesn't pan out as you hope, it can be discouraging.

Some years ago I found a group that I thought were my "tribe": confessional Lutheran homeschooling moms like myself. And in truth, they are my tribe more than about anyone else I've ever known. Which is why they became so important to me, resulting in my not handling it well a few years ago when I suddenly didn't feel like I fit there either.

Back to the job. To be surrounded by not just a few but an entire department full of people that seem to care about so many of the same things I care about has been a joy. To spend my days working with those people on shared goals, and to see those goals come to fruition, is indescribable. I know many people never get to experience that sort of reward in their work. I am still pinching myself that I am getting to do so.

I'm sure there are going to be stressors, disagreements and problems along the way. When those things come, I need to not let them make me feel like I don't belong. And if I do end up feeling that way, I need to remember that it's probably due more to something inside me than anything else. Most of all, I need to remember that in the eyes of my Savior, I do belong, and that's really all that matters.

(Sorry for the "me me me" post. This is for my friends who might be interested in how things are going. They're going great!)

A Couple of Recent Articles at The Federalist

6 Truths You Learn When a Loved One Dies

15 Contemplative Tunes for Your Lenten Playlist

And Then There Were Three

My adult children are back to school. It seems to be hitting me a little harder this year, perhaps because when they left last year there were still four people in the house. This year with the death of my mom, there are only three, and I am adjusting to yet another "new normal."

It has been an interesting month! Before the college kids left, we took a family camping trip to Big Bend in Texas. It was great in spite of a number of things that didn't quite go as planned. I have written an article on the experience that I hope will be available soon.

One of the challenges of the last month has been our car situation. Both my and my husband's cars had significant repair needs at the same time. As we tried to figure out how to address the situation both financially and logistically, a friend offered us his almost-brand-new Ford Explorer for our use (he has another car available to him). We gratefully accepted and have been using his vehicle for much of this month, including driving it to Texas! It was a humbling offer, one that showed us Christ's love in action. Wow. We planned to use his car again this weekend, as I needed to drive Caitlin to Missouri, and Phillip needed to attend the funeral of a dear aunt. Unfortunately, as Caitlin, Evan and I were about to hit the road, our friend's car started behaving erratically. So we had to postpone her return until Phillip got back with my car (which had been repaired). Having lost a day of travel time, I drove to and from Caitlin's college Saturday, a 16-hour trip. It was a long, long day, but one I was glad I did on Sunday when I was able to wake up in my own bed and go to my own church.

Both our cars are back in service, but my husband's is not long for this world, and we are only driving it around town. We hope to replace it around the first of the year.

Today is supposed to be the first day of school, inasmuch as we have a first day of school around here. :-) The principal is doing his part, but the head teacher is dragging. On top of the fatigue from all the driving, I have a sore throat. Nothing major, but enough to slow me down. I will try to do some planning and organizing today, and maybe we can start tomorrow. It is also going to be a week of cleaning and, I hope, unpacking most of the rest of what I want to unpack. We are having our first party in our new house next weekend, inviting all our music volunteers over to celebrate the start of a new season. Nothing like company to motivate me to do things around the house!

I have learned that the mice in these here parts think our house is their vacation home. We are slowly disabusing them of that notion.

I have been giving some thought to online security and privacy, something about which I have not worried much in the past. But as I put myself out there more and more as a writer, I think it behooves me to take more steps to protect my family's privacy, if not my own. In the near future I am going to revert all my public Facebook posts to private. I have set up a new public Facebook page where I plan to post my writings as well as other links I find informative, encouraging, or entertaining. If interested, you are invited to like and share my page!

 The three that remain. Photo taken last spring at Evan's First Communion. 

We haven't changed too terribly much since then. :-)

A Slice of Heaven

The Divine Service is often referred to as a slice of heaven, and rightly so. When we go to church to have our ears filled with God's Word and our stomachs filled with Christ's Body and Blood, we truly experience a foretaste of the feast to come.

Recently, working as a reporter at the 66th Regular Convention of the Lutheran Church--Missouri Synod, I feel as though I had a week-long slice of heaven. My husband told me it was the happiest he's seen me in a long time. No offense to my kids, who weren't there. :-) But I agree--this past week was the most relaxed I have felt in ages.

Thinking about why that might be, I can't help reflecting on the past 3/5/7 years. It's been a rather long slog. For the first time in a very long time I find myself in a place in life where there isn't a huge life change, crisis, or ordeal either in the very recent past or near future. It seems like many things are finally falling into place. I give thanks for that blessing while telling myself that the current sense of settled-ness could change at any time.

But I think there are also some very concrete reasons that I found this past week so relaxing. I was working, yes. But there was so much that I didn't have to give thought to. I didn't have to figure out what to make for supper. I didn't have to clean. I didn't have to do laundry! I didn't have to make decisions about what needed to be done any given hour of the day because it was all laid out for me: go to this meeting, report on that committee, write that article. With all the walking I also got a good deal of exercise. And then there was the worship three times per day--one day it was even four! Not to mention being surrounded by people, over a thousand of them, who know whence their help and salvation come, and the joy of seeing and spending time with many good friends and several dear ones. 

Sometimes I have thought of heaven as a place where we have ultimate freedom, not only from sin, but to do the things that make us happy. Right now I'm thinking heaven might be kind of like the convention--freedom from having to think about what to do because God has it planned out for all eternity and it's all good! 

Here are a few pictures from the week.

Totally staged first day pic, pretending like I know what I'm doing. 

Thank you to my friend Katie for taking this. 

A few of the contract writers. These ladies rock! 

A few old friends. Lovely young lady and babysitter extraordinaire from a former congregation, and 

homeschooling Lutheran moms!

 Post-convention date with hubby.

Hubby with The Prez.

Sympathy Letters from Kids

I finally got around to going through a bag of sympathy notes that were written to me by students at one of the schools I play piano for. I go to this school, a middle school, about once a week to attend chorus rehearsals and play for performances. I feel bad that it took me so long to get around to reading all the notes. There were over 100 of them.

Here are a few excerpts I wanted to preserve for posterity because I found them funny, touching, or unique or just because they made me smile. Enjoy. The authors are all sixth, seventh, or eighth graders. :-)

"I drew a rainbow because when my aunt passed away my mom said think of rainbows because it shows the bright side and it helps me. So maybe it will help you. My mom also tells me to think about the rainbow because my brother is in the air force and when he leaves it makes me sad."

"I will be praying for you. Thank you for being SO NICE to us even though we are crazy and loud. You are VERY good at the piano. I love you so much!"

"Thank you for being our accompanist, even though we're a band of bumbling baboons 90% of the time."

"Thank you for still coming to play with us tomorrow. I couldn't do it. I'm not that strong. My mom is still alive, but it feels like I don't know her. I haven't seen her in 3 years."

"It stinks to hear about what's happening, but for the short period of time I've known you, I think you can get through it. I know you can because I did. My brother died 1 year, 1 month, 6 days ago. You are much stronger than a 12-year-old so I know you can make it through."

"Hello. I am unsure what losing a parent feels like, but I have witnessed the death of some things. I once had a funeral for a turtle I found on the side of the road, and I remember how sad my family was when my grandfather died, even though I was not. I was five or six and I suppose death didn't really make sense to me. Or rather, I didn't really understand it enough to feel it. I'm fourteen and honestly don't know all that much, but I think that life is an incredible thing. Therefore, even though a life has been lost and I am certain that it hurts, there's still more life to marvel at. I hope that wasn't insensitive; I genuinely was not trying to be."

"I am glad you are the piano player at our school because you make us so much better than we already are."

"I love walking into choir and seeing you in the room."

"Every time I hear you play a smile will not come off my face. I also think you are very beautiful. I LOVE YOUR HAIR."

"To be honest I don't really know what to say. What I do know is that there are some days when all you want to do is be left alone. And then there are other days when all you want is a hug. I don't know what kind of day this is for you, but I just want you to know that I care, and that our entire women's choir cares! And I don't know if you're a religious person or not, but here's a Bible verse that always helps me when I'm going through a rough time: 1 Corinthians 10:13. Just always know that God will forever be by your side."

Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

News to Me

I have a new article at The Federalist today, my second expressing reservations about Donald Trump's presidential run. In the mind of one commenter, that can only mean that I am a member of the Republican establishment out to get Trump. So I started wondering, what exactly does it mean to be a part of the Republican establishment? Well, according to  this article, it means I must be one of the following:

1) A "top GOP lawmaker"

2) A "retired GOP bigshot"

3) A member of the media based in Washington, D.C. or New York City 

4) A "deep pocket" contributor

5) A foreign policy hawk

Hmmm. Since I'm not a lawmaker, I'm not retired, I don't live in D.C. or NYC, and I don't write on foreign policy, that must mean I'm #4: a deep pocket contributor. Now if only someone would tell my pocket! :-)

*Photo credit Steven Depolo

Tooting My Own Horn

I'm allowed to do that here, right? :-)

My most recent article at The Federalist has gotten noticed by a few other sites. First, it was linked by Instapundit and Hot Air. I knew about those. But I recently discovered that it was also mentioned at The American Conservative as well as a couple of other blogs. WOOT, Or maybe that should be . . . TOOT!

Happy Spring! (with update)

Wow, a month without a post. I don't know if I have ever gone this long. I have been pondering the reasons, and I think there are several. First, I am writing more places these days! Here are a few of my recent posts elsewhere. I am quite pleased with this development, but also regret that it seems to be making it harder to write on my own blog. Time to write is a precious commodity these days, and I must admit that the larger the potential audience for a piece, the higher its priority on my task list. But I also find myself wondering if maybe this blog is moving into the autumn of its life. Everything has its season, and I don't know if Round Unvarnish'd is still going to be telling tales when I'm in my eighties. But who knows? Maybe some day it will no longer be "A Round Unvarnish'd Tale" but "A Much Rounder, Unvarnish'd, Peeling, Cracked and Weathered Tale."

So, I guess an update is in order. Several weeks ago we enjoyed spring break with Caitlin. Now she is back at school and Trevor is home. Ah, that we could have them both at the same time. But I guess this way, the joy is spread out over a longer period. This past week we went to see Trevor play for the last time with the UNL Symphony. He won the undergraduate concerto competition for strings/piano two years ago when he was a sophomore and again this year as a senior (winning his sophomore year made him ineligible to compete his junior year). Here is a video of his performance on the winners' concert:

Brahms Second Piano Concerto, Finale from Cheryl on Vimeo.

I have been sick for about two weeks now. Not stay-in-bed sick, but dragging-by-the-end-of-the-day-I'm-behind-on-everything-because-I'm-so-drained sick. It started out as a cold, but the cough is hanging on, and hanging on, and hanging on. I will go to the doctor this week if I don't start seeing improvement.

Our pastor had a stroke. He is only in his mid-forties. Thanks be to God, it was a minor stroke, brought on by things that can be better treated and managed. His family--wife and four sons kindergarten and under--and his congregation are praying many prayers of thanks that he was preserved in life, is recovering well, and will in time be able to return to his call as a shepherd of souls. What a gift is life, always.

In two weeks Evan will take his First Communion at Easter Vigil. I only wish his big sister and brother could be here for the occasion.

Under the heading of "what I've been thinking about," I happened across a video of Monica Lewinsky giving a TED talk on what it's like to be publicly humiliated. It was quite compelling and made me think of the OU student who was videotaped singing a terrible and racist song on a bus. Here's an article expressing the hope that that young man's entire life is ruined because that is what he deserves. I am troubled by the thought that we live in an age where someone can do something admittedly cruel and stupid but even after repenting and apologizing and trying to learn from the mistake be never, ever able to put it behind him (or her) because of how thoroughly documented and public our lives have become. I am not thinking now of Parker Rice--I can't speak to his character or the sincerity of his apology--but of people in general and the problems posed by the permanence of the internet. Even those of us who are not public figures (and so have not sinned in such visible ways) can probably relate to the admonition that "the internet is forever." Most people have posts they wish they hadn't written, comments they wish they hadn't made, pictures they wish they hadn't shared--and how much more dangerous is the terrain for young people who are still in the phase of life where they tend to think they are invulnerable. I am reminded of that picture often shared on Facebook expressing gratitude for having come of age before social media. Oh, to be able to take back that word, that tweet, that . . . whatever. And yet, more often than not, we can't. Because even when the world with its short attention span has moved on and forgotten, and the "sinner" is redeemed and going on talk shows and writing books, there is still the knowledge that the offensive thing remains intact, floating in the cloud, retrievable at any time.

It is a knowledge that makes the forgiveness of sins and the forgetfulness of God all that more astounding.

Random Thoughts for a Super Bowl Sunday

I think we'll turn on the game, but I don't know or care that much about it. I think I heard something about leaked balls and deflated commercials? Or maybe it was deflated balls and leaked commercials. Whatever. We'll sit by the fire, listen to the wind, and drink our hot buttered rum while looking at the screen every now and then. I hope all you sports fans enjoy, and I hope everyone's team wins. ;-)

I finished reading Unbroken. Wow. It truly did make the war in the Pacific come alive. What I can't stop thinking about is the fact that this was the story of only one man, one whose personal fame led to his having a book written and a movie made about him, but whose story is only one of tens of thousands of similar ones. I don't know how people who undergo trials such as the one portrayed in the book live to tell about them. The human will to survive is a remarkable thing.

I wondered, when we moved to Oklahoma, if I would miss the snow. I don't. I guess 20 years of it was enough. :-) (Meanwhile, both my college kids are getting a huge dose of it. Enjoy it while you can, my dears!)

My church body, the LCMS, is going through something. Five years ago we elected a new president and many of us were filled with hope that some of the troubling trends of the last few generations would have the brakes put on them. In fact they have. There are wonderful things going on and everywhere signs that doctrinal faithfulness has returned as our prime directive. In spite of that, a few are not satisfied, demanding that everything must be corrected now. I don't understand this mindset from people who would not demand that a troubled parish change overnight. I have not always been Lutheran, and I don't pretend to understand all the history. But I have read and understood enough to know that we are heading in the right direction. I also understand that no human institution is ever going to be perfect. There is no such thing as complete purity when it comes to the practice of sinful human beings. Those who insist on such all-or-nothing purity had better be prepared to sit alone at a very tiny table with a very long spoon. I am content to continue walking together with brothers and sisters in Christ who may be taking smaller or larger steps, perhaps walking with a limp or a crutch, or even being pushed in a wheelchair, as long as we are headed in the same direction and led by a faithful and trustworthy leader. Regarding those who are intentionally trying to cause the confused or weak to stray, I agree that they should not be ignored or downplayed. But I have no reason, at this time, to doubt that those whose vocation it is to address such deceivers are doing so. My calling is to pray for and do my best to encourage them while waiting upon the Lord, who, I know, will guard His church.    

Sometime in the near future I will have my ninth article published by The Federalist. I have also had one piece in American Thinker as well as one of my Federalist articles reprinted in the LCMS publication Notes for Life. Sometimes I think maybe I'm going to actually keep wearing this writer's hat. Other times I am terrified that a big gust of wind is going to blow it off any day now and I'll never find it again. But at the moment I am talking with a friend about writing a book and for once it is actually possible to imagine it happening.

Looks like it's about time for the game. The fire is lit and my husband just handed me a warm mug. Guess I better start not watching. Have a great night!

P.S. I just realized that I don't have a tag for "sports" in my category list. Almost 8 years of blogging and no sports. A jock I am not.

Delicious Irony

It just dawned on me that the piece I wrote for The Federalist has a rather wonderful ironic twist to it. In my article I took issue with the position held by Ezekiel Emanuel  that it is best for a person to die before he starts to experience a steep decline in health, mental acuity, and usefulness. As part of his argument, Emanuel cites research suggesting that most people peak in their forties:

. . . by 75, creativity, originality, and productivity are pretty much gone for the vast, vast majority of us. . . . Dean Keith Simonton, at the University of California at Davis, a luminary among researchers on age and creativity, synthesized numerous studies to demonstrate a typical age-creativity curve: creativity rises rapidly as a career commences, peaks about 20 years into the career, at about age 40 or 45, and then enters a slow, age-related decline. There are some, but not huge, variations among disciplines. Currently, the average age at which Nobel Prize–winning physicists make their discovery—not get the prize—is 48. . . . Simonton’s own study of classical composers shows that the typical composer writes his first major work at age 26, peaks at about age 40 with both his best work and maximum output, and then declines, writing his last significant musical composition at 52. 

For the record, the year your humble blogger turned 50 is the same year she sold her first article to a national magazine. Take that, Emanuel.

De quoi écrire

Hermann Fenner-Behmer (1866-1913)

You're invited . . .

. . . to read the first chapter of my daughter's novel. It is linked here. I know I'm her mom, but I am beyond impressed and totally sucked in to this story. I don't know when she will make more of it available, but if you are so inclined, please go on over and read and encourage her to see this tale through. She welcomes your comments and constructive criticism.

Something Has Changed

Thirty years ago one of my favorite things to do was to take a piece of literature and pick it apart in that way that so many high school students despise. It was what led me to follow up my music studies with undergraduate and graduate degrees in literature. For a number of years I put those English degrees to good use, teaching first high school, then college English, and sometimes I even stumbled on students who seemed to enjoy the subject as much as I did. But the longer I taught English the more discouraged I became at the shocking unpreparedness of many of my students as well as the socio-political agenda that seems to drive many college English departments. I ultimately left English teaching behind and returned to my first love, music. 

For the last ten to fifteen years I have worked much more in the musical than the literary realm, and the older I get, the more I think I want it to stay this way. These days when I read I just want to read. I have little desire for the sort of close, analytical approach I learned in my English classes. It's hard enough just to read! I also can't help wondering whether something has changed in me beyond the length of my attention span. There is something about literary analysis that seems inherently destructive. That is not to say there isn't value in it for the deep understanding and appreciation of a work. Sometimes to truly understand something one must take it apart. But I think I may be at a time in my life when I am much more interested in building up than in tearing down. And music is about nothing if not building. Whether it's the practicing, or the composing (which I don't do), or the putting together of all the parts within an ensemble, the goal is synthesis, the creation of something beautiful. In literary analysis, all the effort is in the opposite direction, towards taking apart rather than creating.

Maybe that's why I have also continued to blog. Even if I didn't have the few of you reading that I do, I would still get the satisfaction of creating something, however small. Maybe one of these days I'll write something bigger than a blog post, or maybe I'll learn a new musical skill. Then again, maybe I'll just do more cooking. . . .

Some people sing in the shower. . . .

. . . I write. If only someone had invented a shower-friendly laptop, I would have surely been famous by now. ;-)

My First Book

Back in August our beagle died. Ever since then I have been meaning to write a remembrance post about the nine years she was with us. It never got done, but this month, with Christmas approaching, I decided one of the best gifts I could give my son was a repository of photographic memories of his dog. I am not a scrapbooker (I am SO not a scrapbooker) so instead settled on a photo book. Below is the result. What do you know? After all these years, I am finally a book author.




 

Click here to view this photo book larger

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The Writer

This beautiful young woman is 17 years old today. She was a little reluctant to make her entrance into the world, so at almost two weeks overdue she was induced. To make it convenient for the delivering doctor we checked into the hospital at about 7:00 p.m. Caitlin kept me up all night and is a night owl to this day. She was born at about 6:00 in the morning, my biggest baby at 9 pounds, 12 ounces. She had a head full of black hair and I wondered if she was mine. Indeed she was, and for that I will be ever thankful. What a blessing is a daughter who loves, cares, and thinks as deeply as this one does and who lives in a way that honors both her parents and her God. One of my birdies has already left the nest and this one is not far behind. I will miss her so.

I wish I could write a poem for my daughter, the writer. Maybe some day I will. For now, I will borrow the words of another. For you, Caitlin. Happy birthday with love.

 "The Writer"

In her room at the prow of the house

Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden,
My daughter is writing a story.

I pause in the stairwell, hearing
From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys
Like a chain hauled over a gunwale.

Young as she is, the stuff
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage.

But now it is she who pauses,
As if to reject my thought and its easy figure.
A stillness greatens, in which

The whole house seems to be thinking,
And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor
Of strokes, and again is silent.

I remember the dazed starling
Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago;
How we stole in, lifted a sash

And retreated, not to affright it;
And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door,
We watched the sleek, wild, dark

And iridescent creature
Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove
To the hard floor, or the desk-top,

And wait then, humped and bloody,
For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits
Rose when, suddenly sure,

It lifted off from a chair-back, 
Beating a smooth course for the right window
And clearing the sill of the world.

It is always a matter, my darling,
Of life or death, as I had forgotten.  I wish
What I wished you before, but harder.

--Richard Wilbur

Wise Words, Part 2

More aphorisms from Andree Seu:

"Marry a man who loves God more than he loves you."

"Living in regret of the past, or fear of the future, are two ways of not living at all."

"Thinking a lot is not the same as praying a lot."

"Your child is never angry for no reason."

"Break a fear-of-man problem by aggressively loving people."

"If you wait for better times to 'Rejoice in the Lord' you will never do it."

"Let your words be few."

"A phone call to say 'I'm thinking of you' yields benefits all out of proportion to the time investment."

"Be known as faithful. If you say, 'Let's do lunch' do lunch."

"An idol forfeits your life. You look back and say you never lived."

"God is the better chess player. Just obey."

"You're one prayerless day away from being capable of any sin."

"Pray on the spot for the person who comes to mind. It's either pray or sin."

"The longer I live the truer the Bible gets."

Wise Words

For many years now we have subscribed to World magazine. It is a news magazine in the tradition of Time or Newsweek but with a Biblical, Christian world view. One of the best things about World is the writer Andree Seu. Her column is the first thing I read whenever a new issue of World arrives. She writes not about politics or current events but about the day-to-day struggles and joys of life under the cross, and she does so  from the perspective of someone who sounds a lot like me: a mom, an English teacher, a wife, and a redeemed sinner. She came later in life to the vocation of published writer, making me think there might still be hope for me!

A few days ago my husband brought home an old issue of World, dated Nov. 19, 2005, that he came across while cleaning out his office. I can see why we saved it. Seu's column in this issue was called "Andree's Aphorisms" and consisted of a catalogue of short observations taken, I assume, from her other writings. Or perhaps they were just things she had often thought or said and only compiled for this column.  Whatever the case, her observations are pure gold, so I thought I would share a few of them here.

People laugh at your unwholesome talk at the moment but think less of you afterwards.

A lot of what I thought was my personality was just sin.

I started out wanting to be my children's savior, and ended up pleading for forgiveness.

Your friend's casual joke about her husband is a deep well. Probe and you will find pain.

Whole lifetimes are wasted worrying about the opinions of people who aren't even on the right wavelength.

Better to let your child make an imperfect bed than to have a perfect bed that you make yourself.

An inferiority complex is a desire to be better than other people.

The more you see how wretched and needy you are, the less the question "How much should I pray?" is an issue for serious debate.

The best teaching moments are never at convenient times.

Sit on a sensitive letter for three days before sending it.

When I have no intention of obeying a Bible command, I say it's not meant to be taken literally.

My kids have a foggy recollection of things I tried to teach them, and total recall of my phone conversations they overheard from the next room.

Tell your child what delights you about him. He doesn't know unless you tell him.

Now and then skip the dishes and run out to the park. In 20 years your kid will remember the park and you will not remember the dishes.

Praising and thanking God all day long are the only cure I've found for depression.

Drop the dust rag and look at your child when he's telling you a story.

And, my favorite, :

While inside an idolatry you love your idolatry. When you are set free you see what bondage it was.

Seu's World columns can be read here and her World magazine blog is found here.

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?

Looking on the Bright Side

So, it's a good thing that my 2-year-old Concise OED is falling apart because it is never, ever sitting on the bookshelf but instead sees more action in our house than a Harry Potter novel, right?

Right?

New fiction . . .

. . . by a young author of my acquaintance:

Riversong: Path to Paradise

It's also available in paperback.

If you are a fan of anthropomorphic fiction, quest or "road" stories, allegory, or themes of love, friendship and sacrifice, this novella is worth your consideration. Suitable for age 10 & up, with polished, mature writing of the highest quality.

And if you're interested, I think I can arrange for an autograph.