Fundamental

Today Mr. M and I sat on the couch with our tea. The sun warmed the living room through our ten foot window and we listened to a sermon on forgiveness. A huge fundamental truth about Christianity which we more often than not forget about, ignore, or misconstrue. Forgiveness is key. It is paramount. I can not pretend to be so eloquent as Mr. Begg so I have posted the link here: http://www.truthforlife.org/resources/message/forgive-us-our-sins/ But I was struck with the notion that I have no notion of what this truly means for me and for every Christian. God in His mercy and grace, through the death and resurrection of Christ on the cross, I am forgiven. The omniscient God, creator and judge of the universe, chooses NOT to remember. Through Christ my guilt is taken away. Through Christ I am free from sin. You are free, through Christ, your sins are forgiven. I just wanted to tell you.

Mendelssohn

I am learning Prelude and Fugue in E Minor. Slightly ambitious. Okay. Very ambitious. But my piano teacher seems to think I can do this. When I listen to a recording of it I am terrified. No doubt I will be learning this piece for months and months and months. Years? I try not to think about all of the 10 and 13 year olds that come to her house for lessons blazing through Sonata after Sonatina after Nocturne after Concerto. It only depresses me. I find I have to remind myself, sometimes daily, that this is what I want. I don't have a parent standing over me with their agenda to make me a well rounded individual through music. I don't have some school pressing in on me for scholarships. And I don't have the drive and perfectionism to teach my own students some day in a room lined with plaques boasting all my accomplishments. Well, that would be nice. What I really want is to play better than I have in the past. I want to not have to struggle whenever I pick up a piece of music that has any degree of advanced technique. I want to hear the music I know has to be in me. I want to hear it done well. So I practice little by little and try to sit down everyday. Sometimes I am very successful when I practice. Many days other responsibilities overshadow anything that might lie waiting at the piano. So Mr. Mendelssohn prepare to be tortured for the next 12 months as I stumble my way over key after key.

January

In the west the last day of January fades light blue. The kind of blue you see sometimes in pictures of glaciers. The kind of blue that makes you feel cold when you look at it. I have already had my daily cup of tea. Responsibility waits for me at the piano, the kitchen, and my bible. But like I said, the day is slipping away and here I am. Moments of calm and quiet often make me think of children. Someday, hopefully, there will be children running around my feet. Not this year. I think about the kind of mother I'll be and wonder if I'll be any good at it. Better then most? Worse then some? I'll no doubt look back on these silent moments and forget what they were like: no one clamoring for attention, no one reaching to grab my leg, no one calling out to me, no one crying, no one. I look forward to the not so peaceful moments when I have something to do besides my projects and my time and my thoughts. I am anxious to be outside of myself and emptied of me. Not this year. Not this January.

Appropriate preparation

Dinner: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, broccoli. Last of the chrysanthemum’s cut and in a vase. Items from a craft bazaar purchased. Studded tires. Daily cup of tea. Piano tuned. A persistent chill in the house. Thoughts about wreath hanging and mantle arrangement. Christmas wish lists. Party planning. First or second autumn head cold. Wind stirs dead leaves by the back door. Sweaters. Heavy wool socks. Scarves. Banana bread. Mittens. Cookies. Stew. An extra blanket on the bed. Frost on the windows. Another winter.

Today...

it snowed and snowed and snowed.

End of summer days

We travel to Hawaii shortly. In the spirit of preparing for the journey I cut blooming flowers and stuck them in a vase so that I could enjoy them for the next few days. By the time I get back my flowers might very well have succumbed to a quick frost death. September is nearly over in my estimation. I am back to work two weeks ago and school feels as though it is grinding us all into the ground. Mr. M's cantaloupe crop has done very well this year. Even now I nibble on it, despite the fact that I don't like cantaloupe, it is possible I have been made a believer in this oh so sweet melon. Watermelon, however, is always preferable. Even in winter.

This afternoon I have not put down Fahrenheit 451. Leaves from the neighbor's birch are beginning to litter our driveway. Winter fashions line store shelves. I have stopped fertilizing the perennials. Soon we will be shrouded in weeks and months of cold wind and morning ice on windows. Baking will seem like a better idea than usual and the cupboard will run low on herbal and black tea. We are rebellious and sleep with the windows open. Hawaii is the last summer jaunt and of course we welcome it.

First in a very long time

I wrote a poem. It is the first in a very very long time. Not perfect by any means so if my 3 readers have any feedback it is very much welcome.


Sand Dollars

Sunlight mirrors itself in the glass of soft
beach that extends beyond where she can see.

Down turned head twisting side to side,
slumped shoulders, baggy sweatshirt, pink hat,

despondent sighs do not hide her eagerness
to prosper from the sea’s exchange

of white money with the sand.
Broken in two dollars disappoint

with each brush of wave on the shore.