Reflections

I'm one of those pessimistic people who happily celebrates the passing of time.  2012 is over and I think that's great!  I'm not saying it was a bad year.  Actually it was a pretty fantastic year.  There were some huge changes made in our life.  To note a couple:

     ~In March Dan and I went to Mexico for a 9 day holiday.  It was a badly needed holiday.
     ~In July we moved out of our little house in Spruce Grove and onto a beautifully, treed farm.
     ~In August we started farming chickens.
     ~In December our youngest became 'church trained' and our whole family is now sitting in the pew every Sunday.

But really, I'm glad I don't have to go back and live 2012 over again.  Right now we're a year closer to the Lord returning.  I'm a year closer to death.  I've learned some good lessons in Christ's school last year that I'm thankful I won't have to revisit.  I can see that I've grown in grace and I wouldn't want to give that up.  I've lived in this world for almost 30 years now.  That's a long time.  Mercy and grace have sustained me every day that I've been on this earth.  Of that I am certain.  And I know mercy and grace will carry me everyday until I reach Home.  God is faithful.  He'll not let me go.

So let the years go ahead and fly by.  I hope they do.  The most pressing work to be done in my life is completed.  Christ has done it some 2000 years ago.  I am hidden in His wounds.  I am safe.  I am ready to die.  I would love to see my Saviour.  I would love to meet all the saints who have already crossed that dark river called death.  I would love to lie before the throne of God in worship.  This world is nothing but a wilderness.  It's a dreary, unwelcoming place for a pilgrim.  But right now God would have me trod it's paths.  That's why I am here.  And I will take hold of His Word and His promises and go forward in that light.  I will cling to Him another year and he will lead me.  He always does.  He will give me kingdom work to do and I will do it with His help.  But always, always, always, I will be looking toward heaven.  That's my home.

So despite getting an invitation to go out to a friend's place tonight for fondue and a games night, it seems fitting to go to the house of the Lord and finish off my year in the house of God instead--recognizing the great Giver and Sustainer of life and worshipping Him.

Lord, come quickly!

Foiled.

Courtney's my name.....

Escaping is my game!



 





When Mom tucks me in at night,
She also locks the door real tight.

 

 

 



Because my door is always being latched
I've laboured and created a new escape hatch!



 

But alas, it led no where, and for this I have toiled...

Another genius plan, yes once again, completely spoiled.

Handled With Care

Here is an essay written by Andrew D. Scrimgeour and published for the New York Times.  I really appreciate the sensitive approach the writer takes to another man's treasures.  I think I would attempt to leave my precious books to one who would see their value and understand how much I loved them.  It is an awesome gift to receive the fruits of what one has poured himself into building all his life, and the gift is all the more personal and meaningful should you know the individual who has passed on.  It is a gift of great trust.  As a reader myself, I should think that in terms of material things, it is one of the most meaningful gifts one can give to another.  A library is so, so personal.  It would be a giving away a piece of oneself that continues to live on.


==I have been here many times before. Not to this particular library but to others like it. Some have been on college campuses, others in private homes. Some have sprawled through many rooms, including the bathroom; others were confined to a single space. One had no windows; another overlooked a lake. Most were crowded. All were dusty.

Each was the domain of a scholar. Each was the accumulation of a lifetime of intellectual achievement. Each reflected a well-defined precinct of specialization. But what they also had in common was that each of their owners had died. And by declaration of their wills, or by the discernment of their families, I had been called to claim or consider the bereft books for my university library.

One of the little-known roles of the academic librarian is bereavement counseling: assisting families with the disposition of books when the deceased have not specified a plan for them. Most relatives know these books were the lifeblood of their owners and so of intellectual value if not great monetary worth. But they remain clueless about how to handle them responsibly. Some call used-book shops. Some call the Salvation Army. Others call a university library. Many allow friends and relatives to pick over the shelves before bringing in a professional.

 

On this particular day I’m standing in the doorway of a distinguished but forlorn library in South Bend, Ind., ready to perform last rites on the extensive collection of James White, a noted historian and specialist in the liturgies and worship practices of the Christian tradition. I always pause before entering these libraries. Even after the family has shown me to the space, I can’t just barge in. That seems disrespectful. I need to be introduced to the books. I need to become acquainted.

Surveying these rooms, I find myself wishing I had a ritual to invoke, for the study I’m about to disrupt is a private, beloved retreat — an inner sanctum for reading, reflection and writing. And since it is here that someone wrestled with ideas, sought integrity of expression and gave expression to fresh-jacketed voices, the book-­studded room seems sacred. Is there a prayer I can offer? Sometimes I think I should take off my shoes — a physical act to show my respect.

What first catches my eye on this day is the calendar on the desk — a small scenic calendar from Vermont Life. It displays October 2004. (Professor White died on Oct. 31, 2004.) It’s as if time froze in this space on the eve of All Saints’ Day. Two volumes of Calvin’s “Institutes of the Christian Religion” hold pride of place in the middle of the desk — one open and face down, undoubtedly the last book he was reading. Bach’s chorale preludes are in the CD player, and my first act is to fill the library with the music White loved and often played on the spinet piano in the adjacent room. Before disturbing anything, I photograph the room from several angles, ensuring that his desk and books are captured for the archival record.

      

I prefer to inventory the books by myself. It is a way not only to get to know the library but to commune with the former dweller of the room. Sometimes the utmost diplomacy is required to persuade family members that I don’t need assistance as I sort, box and make notes in solitude.

These libraries have ranged widely on the tidiness scale. A few look ready for a Better Homes and Gardens photo shoot. One was fully cataloged; each volume stood tall in its proper Dewey location, spine perfectly aligned to the edge of the shelf, a regiment ready for inspection. Another was a health hazard — hundreds of books piled on the floor, knee-high canyons to navigate like Gulliver on Lilliput Island. Happily, most have been in between — well organized but showing ample evidence that someone had been working there.

      

The placement of individual books, as well as the adjacencies of groups, intrigues me. Are they subject categories, chronological gatherings, project clusters, a map of intellectual terrain or evidence of the constraints of space and shelving? Which books are closest to the desk or kept on the desk? Which are consigned to the bottom and top shelves or the closet? Books sequestered in the shadows behind others suggest clandestine reading and hidden pleasures. Sometimes, though, they are simply gifts hidden away for a coming event — a birthday, graduation or anniversary — a greeting card, yet unsigned, often their companion.

      

Did the professor value dust jackets? Did he write in the books, underline passages in red, dog-ear the pages, use Post-it notes? Inscriptions on the title pages tell of personal and professional friendships. Frequently, I find book reviews tucked among their pages. Often they are about that very book, possibly what prompted its purchase. Occasionally, something unusual tumbles from the pages — Civil War-era currency or a note from a famous person. Of particular fascination are the well-worn or worn-out volumes — the indispensable reference works or canonical texts in one’s field.

Sometimes I find books belonging to libraries that long ago abandoned hope for their return. The letters of thankful astonishment that I have received from some librarians after they opened the unexpected packages are treasures in themselves. “Could we hire you to visit the homes of a few other delinquent scholars?” one library director asked. “We would be happy to make it worth your while.” Another concluded her note, “This gives new meaning to ‘Death the Grim Reaper.’ ”

Removing the books from their familiar niches takes time and requires a personal approach. I place the books in boxes one volume at a time, noting each title, silently calling each by name — a bibliographic benediction for a job well done in this place for this scholar. At times I feel camaraderie with bishops who lay hands on confirmands and unhurriedly bless them by name, one at a time, regardless of how long the line stretches down the center aisle. I have little in common with moving-company packers for whom books are anonymous blocks of paper that stack easily. There is no grabbing the books by the handful, plunking them into boxes with speedy professionalism.

      

But what has taken years to create, I dismantle in a matter of hours or days. All too soon, walls of colorful volumes are reduced to a cube of brown cartons resting on a pallet, without a hint of the academic landscape they once shaped. The room itself becomes stark, the bookcases empty, the sweet autumn musty scent of the older books gone, only photographs, stapler, memorabilia and much dust remaining.

      

I leave as quietly as I entered, carrying with me privileged knowledge — the warp and woof as well as the quirks of this scholar’s habitat.

      

I wonder what the experience of future librarians will be as electronic books increasingly dislodge those that can be touched, smelled and boxed. Will private collections in the digital environment add value to university libraries, or will they be constrained by complex copyright laws? Will they convey a unique ethos, capable of stirring admiration, even sadness and rituals of respect, from the librarians sent to gather them?

      

For the moment, the collections to which I am called still consist of paper, ink, glue, covers and jackets. I find solace in knowing that these orphaned books — White’s collection in Indiana and many others across the country — have been adopted and become the companions of a new generation of students and scholars.

Andrew D. Scrimgeour, dean of libraries at Drew University, has just completed a book of Christmas stories.

Potato Run

I asked Seth to go downstairs and get me some potatoes for supper. I handed him a a big bowl and off he trotted. I did not think to clarify that I wanted him to FILL the bowl with potatoes.  He came back with 4 tiny potatoes rolling about in the bottom of the bowl. You see, he hates potatoes. The less there are for supper, the less there will be for him to eat.



Time to Read?

It amazes me at the frequency that people ask me the following question:

When do YOU have time to read?!

So tonight I am going to answer that question.  The simple answer is....because I MAKE time to read.  Reading is important to me.  I love to read.  I need to read.  If I am going to teach my kids I need fresh inspiration.  I need to read.  If I am going to keep from being overwhelmed, I need a break to rejuvenate and focus my mind elsewhere.  I need to read.  If I want to glorify God I need to be setting time aside.  I need to be reading.

Obviously with a thousand obligations, it's easy to allow reading to fall by the wayside.  I admit that there is ALWAYS something that is more pressing that could be done...like...
      --folding laundry
      --marking Math
      --tweaking lesson plans for the next day
      --cleaning the house!!  (you would not believe how far behind I get on this one!)
      --writing letters
      --'playing' cop, judge, jury and warden all day with kids
      --book reviews or Bible Study lessons
      --making meal planning lists
      --ironing
      etc etc etc!!!

In the past I have fallen in this trap of working away the 'to do' list completely before allowing myself the opportunity to read.  That is probably the most discouraging thing I have ever done to myself.  I was discouraged and depressed and still never, ever done.  I determined to get back to spending a little time in a book everyday since it really makes such a difference for me.

So here are some practical guidelines I follow to make this happen:

1) I don't read when my kids are awake.  I believe they deserve my full attention.  Also, I believe the 12 hours that they are up is a sufficient amount of time the Lord has given me to get the daily work accomplished that He has placed before me.  I need to be working those hours and making the MOST of my time.  And to be frank, my days are very, very busy.  I am always, always running.  I do not sit still.

2) I start my day by reading.  I am happiest this way.  Before breakfast I sit in the office and read the Word of God.  Currently (if you're interested in specifics) I am following a reading plan that brings me through the whole Bible in a chronological order.  Right now I'm in the book of Jeremiah.  I read 2-5 chapters every morning.  Then I read a short devotional by Jonathan Edwards found in a book entitled 'A Journey Toward Heaven.'  If something profound has caught my attention I will write about it in my journal.  Otherwise I settle down to pray--trying specifically to pray about something I have read in the Scriptures this morning in addition to 'regular' requests and praise.  I never turn on the computer until I have finished devotions.  This is very important for the world will quickly consume our devotional time through avenues like facebook or e-mail.

3) My whole day is orchestrated in such a way that when the kids go to bed the dishes are done, the main living spaces are tidy and I am able to settle down for the evening.  When the kids go to bed, my day aught to be done as well.  Some days this requires running hard all day--especially on days when I am teaching school, driving to piano, and finalizing catechism memory work.  (Yes, Wednesdays are TOUGH for me)!  As a result, some days I am feeling pretty ragged.

4) Aside from Bible Study, Kid's Disciple's Club and nights when we have company, evenings are usually left open and I will spend a portion of that time reading.  If you must ask, I am currently reading selected sermons by Thomas Boston and another book called 'Escape from Camp 14' by Blaine Harden.

I know that if I do not prepare for a time to read it will not happen.  This means working hard all day to have free time time at night.  It means saying 'No' to company sometimes.  It means getting up a little earlier in the morning.  It means not allowing yourself to become enslaved to an endless list of obligations.  It certainly means a lot of self-discipline at times!  I have to jealously guard these times as it can quickly get gobbled up by many things and even well-intentioned people.  But I recognize that if I don't read regularly I will get burned out.  And I'll get crabby.  And I'll lose perspective.  And I'll turn into a crazy workaholic.  And how is God honoured in that when He Himself tells me to rest in Him?  (I've actually done a small personal study on the topic of rest--and what the Bible has to say about that--perhaps another blog post). 

So the answer to the question 'Where do you find time to read?'

I MAKE time.  I make time to receive refreshment and blessing.

It sure makes sense to me!