Amy Grant

My response to Amigo's comment on my last blog post:
Help me out with Amy Grant. I really like her singing. "Tis so Sweet to Trust in Jesus" ranks up there as one of my favorite Christian songs. But then comes her personal life (as I understand it). She is divorced from her 1st husband and marries another man, who divorced his wife and married Amy Grant. I read where she said she felt God "released her" from her first marriage. Now I am not trying to be smart mouthed or mean here, but isn't this pretty much what John the Baptist slammed Herod for? I understand God forgives us our sins, but I really don't get the feeling that Grant ever really repented. If I'm out of line on her, let me know and delete my comment.

I would never delete an Amigo comment, and I think he brings up a lot of good points that really ought to be discussed often in the Christian community -- especially as non-Catholic Christians continue to divorce at the same or higher rate than the general public. One thing I've realized recently from some stuff going on at our church is that there is no such thing as a "private" sin in the family of God. So, though a Google search may someday reveal this post to the rabid Amy Grant fans out there who like to insist on her near-saintedness and kvetch continually that a divorce of seven years ago ought never to be discussed again, I'm going to post a bit about the whole "Amy Grant thang" and why and how it affected me. Bear with me, please.

I try to imagine sometimes what it would have been like to have been raised in a Christian household. For those of you who were, try to imagine for a moment what it would have been like to be a sixteen-year-old high school junior and never have heard the Gospel. Of course you would have heard of Jesus (usually in the swear-word format) and you may have even been to church once in a while, but you had never really been told the message of Good News and the unfathomable love of Christ. Try to imagine that, if you will.

Then, imagine that at the end of your favorite pop music CD you hear the words, "When it all comes down, if there's anything good that happens in life it's from Jesus." You can imagine, I'm sure, that at first you would be surprised; then, maybe, a little angry or turned off. But, if you kept listening, the words would start to seep into your soul and revolutionize your worldview.

It took almost five years of soul-searching, flirting with Objectivism and atheism, reading the Bible, praying and listening for this sixteen-year-old to become the young woman who committed to Christ at the age of twenty-one. I would never say that Amy Grant made me a Christian -- only the grace of God through the Holy Spirit can do that -- but Amy Grant's music was the first exposure I had to the idea that there was something unspeakably precious to be gained at the cross of Jesus Christ.

To say I have a soft spot for Amy Grant would be an understatement.

To say that my heart was not broken by the sad and sinful events in Amy Grant's personal life in 1999 would be a lie. Because I had seen a woman made of clay and then expected her to walk on water -- the mud ought not to have been a surprise, but it was. Amy Grant had become so much more to me than just a singer of wonderful songs -- she had become my model for what life in Christ can mean -- beautiful family, happy marriage, successful career. Not exactly what Jesus said about taking up the cross to follow Him, huh? But what did I know, anyway? -- I was a baby Christian looking for the keys to secular bliss in the bosom of eternal truth.

Amy Grant's divorce was, I believe, caused, at least in part, by her and Vince Gill's adultery. I do not believe it was physical adultery, but I do believe -- from the evidence of both their subsequent actions and their words -- that it was spiritual adultery, which, as Jesus reminds us, is pretty much the same thing. She fell in love with a man who was not her husband, and, instead of fleeing the situation, she allowed herself to be mired in incredibly tempting circumstances. For the sins of the heart -- which is where all sin begins -- I believe that repentance comes from nipping those flashes of darkness in the bud. When the heart's contemplations turn into action, repentance is shown by ceasing the actions and seeking forgiveness. All of this is only done through prayer and the workings of the Spirit within.

Has Amy Grant repented of her sin? I should think that her repentance would have included staying away from her temptation instead of marrying him, but my job is not to try to peer into her heart. She says she has sought and found forgiveness from the Lord. I can only take her at her word. Has she asked her first husband, Gary Chapman, for forgiveness? Has he asked her for it (since marriages seldom break up for a one-sided reason)? I don't know. The worst of it was the Chapmans' three children's having to witness their parents' marriage falling apart. That stinks, no matter how much money or fame or faith your family has. Have they asked their children for forgiveness? Goodness, I hope so (though parents so rarely do).

What was hardest for me was to see evidence that Christianity does not protect us always from our sinful natures. With repentance, it protects us from God's justifiable wrath, but it doesn't automatically make us the most discerning of people. We are so easily deceived -- and we do whatever we can to justify our exposed sin to ourselves and the world. For Amy Grant to have said that she had been "released" from her marriage without giving one of the very few reasons that a Christian is biblically allowed to divorce sounds like someone desperate to give holy sanction to sin. That's dangerous. But, if she did have biblical reasons to divorce (from my understanding: abandonment, abuse, adultery, and a non-believing spouse who wants out) why not state them? It is not edifying for the Body of Christ to see their brethren divorce without cause. No-fault divorce is a worldly message that ultimately harms the Gospel.

Okay, so Amy Grant and Vince Gill most likely committed adultery (and their spouses had most likely sinned against them, too). Divorce is generally bad. It is one of those things that, even when it is the necessary course, is never really good. When children are involved, it is often catastrophic. The Baby Boom generation on up through today's parents are going to be answerable to the future and the Lord for two main legacies of foulness: the social acceptability of abortion and divorce. Both rip children apart -- the first physically, the second emotionally. I can only imagine that that pisses Jesus off to no end.

But, where do you go from there? Can Amy Grant still be a powerful witness for the Gospel? I can acknowledge my own disappointment and disillusionment and still find that, yes, her life is a powerful witness of God's grace and restoration in the midst of deception and sin. For, though their relationship started out of lust and adultery, God has used that to His glory. He has given the Grant/Gill household a beautiful daughter and, from what I've read, He has brought healing to all the parties involved. He has truly taken what man has done for evil and turned it to good. And He is still using the gift of music that He so lovingly bestowed upon her, as, especially, the two recent hymns albums have resoundingly testified. I could never be one of those people who say that Amy Grant has lost the right to proclaim the truth of God because of her sin; were that the case, I, too, would never be able to speak or write of Him. She is no more sinful than I. I try to live with a prayerful and repentant heart, and I believe that she does, too.

My Favorite from the De-Motivational Posters Series

Funnily enough (Is "funnily" a legitimate adverb? Must look it up later in the OED), I was reminded of this poster by a cool screensaver that came with my Cozi family organizer. The screensaver brings up a slideshow collage of various pictures from different folders in our computer. From the folder, "Clip Art Downloads," which is basically anything I've ripped off of the Internet, came the collage of this poster, a publicity shot of Carolyn Arends, an album cover of Amy Grant, a photo of Carole Lombard, and a photo of Rosalind Russell -- all of whom are some of the least dysfunctional ladies ever to have graced the (musical) stage or screen.

Evening by G.K. Chesterton

Thought I'd pass along this capturing of the essence of gratitude from Gilbert Keith:

Evening

Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?

Random Thoughts on a Pleasant Day

Well, the snow has finally melted enough at our house for me to feel comfortable driving down off of the plateau. Like most West Coasters (not to be confused with the West Platters), I am a complete wimp when it comes to bad weather driving, and I cower behind four walls until slipping on ice is a very remote possibility, rather than an at-hand probability. So, I took advantage of the betwixt storms situation to hie myself and the Bug out to Bellevue for some mother-daughter bonding time.

Everybody come and play! Throw every last care away! Let's go to the mall today!

At the mall, Sadie and I got our customary Strawberry Julius and soft pretzel. This little ritual was one I observed with my mother, and it is a wonderful tradition with the Bug.

Then we went to Gymboree. I have a love-hate relationship with Gymboree, because every clothing line is absolutely adorable -- and a wee bit on the pricey side -- and I always spend too much when I go there. It is so easy to avoid buying myself clothes (in fact, I hate it), but Sadie looks good in everything, and it's hard not to indulge. I love dressing my little girl.

After the mall, we went to Lakeshore Learning Center, where I got Sadie a new phonics game. She's caught on that her other phonics games are really learning tools, and in her recalcitrant way has begun to refuse to play them. Even promising to get her a dog when she can read at the second grade level has failed to inspire my contrary Meck. She's been like this since birth. I remember coaxing and encouraging her to talk and feeling like a miserable failure when she celebrated her one year birthday without having said a word. Then, when I let go a bit, Sadie exploded with complete sentences and hasn't been quiet since. If I gave up on teaching her to read, she'd probably have her own library card with 100 books checked out within the year. Stinker.

Speaking of books and children, here are two recommendations: The Let's-Read-And-Find-Out-Science series by HarperCollins and Toys Go Out by Emily Jenkins. Sadie's Auntie Sabina got her hooked on the former, and I got Sadie the latter for Christmas after reading a review in the Wall Street Journal. Oooh! And another great storybook is The Runaway Dinner by Allan Ahlberg. That book never fails to crack me up, and, as parents well know, finding books that appeal to you as well as your children is a great boon when you're stuck reading them over and over again.

One thought of books leads to another. I just re-read L.M. Montgomery's The Blue Castle after seeing it mentioned over at Joelle's. I just love that story. And I love, too, how Montgomery's writing really holds up. I loved her as a teenager, and I love her now. Granted, reading her brings me back to those youthful days, but I think she has more than a little to offer the more mature reader. Especially The Blue Castle -- one of the few works of Maude's that I can call to mind where the heroine is an adult when we meet her.

Libraries: All the fun of shopping for books without the reality-check moment at the end when you have to shell out money for them. Awesome! Whenever we pay our property tax, I pretend in my mind that all of it goes to public libraries, which I love (though, from a moral standpoint, I admit really ought to be private), rather than the wretched public school system, which I hate on principle. How fun it is just to cruise the aisles, pick up whatever catches my fancy, and then breeze out the doors with them all, not a penny poorer!

Dinner tonight will be BBQ Chicken Salad -- one of Jason's favorites. This was one of my New Year's Resolutions: Write out two months in advance what I will make for dinner. Because, that's really the hardest part, isn't it -- thinking at 3 or 4 PM what you ought to make for dinner at a time when you are not at all hungry? Now that I know what's on the menu for any given day, I can just go ahead and start making it; there is no need to wait for the dinner muse to come a-knocking. It has worked out fantastically so far, and it is definitely one of my favorite and most practical of New Year's Rezes I've ever made. It helps streamline grocery shopping, too.

Speaking of which, here's kind of a cool thing: Cozi Central. It's a free, on-line family organization center. It puts family members' appointments and messages into a forum that can be easily viewed by other family members via the Internet or mobile phone. You can also keep running shopping lists which can, then, also be viewed by your, say, husband before he leaves work. So far, I really like it.

One of my dearest friends, Princess Holly, is coming up to Seattle this weekend for business, but she's staying with us -- so any down-time becomes hanging-out time. It's always so fun to visit with her. She speaks four languages fluently and has traveled everywhere. Plus, she's a big reader, so there's always something new to discuss. We agree on very little politically or epistemologically, but we share a mutual respect for each other, and there are other bonds that keep our friendship strong. She and I have a standing appointment to make a pilgrimage up to Prince Edward Island and pay homage to Ms. Montgomery one of these days. Now, whether my first trip there will be with Princess Holly or with my other fellow Montgomery-fan friend, vermonster, remains to be seen. Holly is my "Emily" books friend and vm is my "Anne" books friend, and I guess you could even say that Joelle is my "Blue Castle" friend (though all three love the other works, too). Maybe we four ought to plan a simple LMM hootenany to celebrate all aspects and heroines of that enchanting wordsmith's career and life up on PEI someday.

What a lovely, pleasant day!

A New Baby!

Well, she's not mine, but I get to look after her for her mommy and daddy, and I'm pleased as punch to be able to do so. Little Rylee is only 10 weeks old, but she's the apple of mama's and daddy's eyes, as well she should be. What a pumpkin!

This will be a good dry run to see if Lady Meckbottom can handle a younger sibling. Of course, all children get used to being dethroned after a while. And yet, I cannot help but think that Tiny Tyrant will have a harder time than most. She's been Queen Bee for a long while now.

As for me, well, I'm just loving holding that precious little girl and breathing in her sweet babyness. A baby is one of the few things in this world that is an unmitigated good. Each one is a love letter from God.

2007 is looking great!

Gospel Road

Johnny Cash's labor of love, Gospel Road, is really affecting. I'm only about half way through, but, so far, three things have really stuck with me.

The Raising of Lazarus: This is not dramatized on screen, but is narrated by Johnny Cash. What is so intriguing about this is that when Cash speaks of the famous verse, "Jesus wept," he illuminates that in a way I'd never thought of before. Cash says that Jesus wept for His dead friend because He knew that in calling him back to life, He was calling him away from the Father to go through the pain of death again at some future point. This was a new angle to ponder.

June Carter Cash as Mary Magdalene: June Carter Cash's portrayal of Mary's interactions with Jesus is so heartrendingly sincere. When she weeps, she weeps as a believer -- as one who really knows what it is like to be made clean and holy by that deep, unfathomable love. I wept with her, because I, too, have known that awe and gratitude.

Jesus and the Children: The scenes with Jesus and the beautiful children set to a sweet Cash song simply captures how I always picture in my mind was His way with the little ones.

This movie is so stunningly photographed. It looks low-budget, true, but it is real. It is moving, because it is not splashy. I will admit that I have a great weakness for the explorations of Christian faith made in the 1970's. I think that the Jesus Movement alone might have postponed Judgment on the U.S. for a few more years.

I'm looking forward to watching the rest of this movie tonight.

G.K. Chesterton on Blogs and Bloggs

From the wonderful resource, The Blog of the American Chesterton Society, I found this amazingly prescient statement that rather sums up both the rise and societal necessity of blogs:

"[The blog] exists to insist on the rights of man; on possessions that are of much more political importance than the principle of one man one vote. I am in favour of one man one house, one man one field; nay I have even advanced the paradox of one man one wife. But I am almost tempted to add the more ideal fancy of one man one magazine ... to say that every citizen ought to have a weekly paper of this sort to splash about in ... this kind of scrap book to keep him quiet."

[Ward, GKC 497, quoting GKW April 4, 1925]*

Not that even the great GKC could fully fathom the explosion of the public, international journal:

". . . It is a mystic and refreshing thought that I shall never understand Bloggs."

[Ward, GKC 106, quoting an engagement letter from GKC to Frances Blogg]

Of course, as you may have guessed his "Bloggs" were not some archaic British version of the abbreviated, but at that point uninvented, weblog, but rather his future wife's family. And yet, and yet . . . shall any of us ever understand blogs?

Why do we write and publish our hearts' ponderings in such a public way? And why do so many of us open those most dear of reckonings to the scrutiny of strangers' comments? I guess it goes back to Chesterton's first quote: We want to be heard. And, I would add, it is fun to meet others who have the same quirks of thought and expression as we (though that part of blogging is contrary to Chesterton's ideal -- that's a future post, though).

As the second anniversary of Musings draws nigh, I find myself grateful to Blogger for this opportunity to share the twists and turns of my mind and the discovery that I am really not alone. To my dear blogging buddies: Blog on! Blog as though your very freedom depends upon it, because, to a certain extent, it does.

Concert Albums 2: Being a Post in Which I Take Back Almost Everything Previously Stated About Concert Albums

How lame am I? Shortly after posting an inane little item about my general dissatisfaction with in-concert albums, I remembered the first Amy Grant "live" albums from 1981. And then I remembered the video I have (VHS, of course) of Amy Grant's "Age to Age" concert from 1983. And then I realized that my theory was all shot to hell, because both of these have a freshness and spontaneity of the real thing that I found so lacking on her recent offering, Time Again . . . Live. So, maybe the problem is with the bigness of this concert recording, when I have usually seen Amy Grant in concert in much smaller, more intimate settings.

Another factor, too, might be the stage of her career in which the live albums and video were recorded. In the early 1980's, Amy Grant was still a very young gospel singer, whose music appealed to a much smaller demographic. Every song she sung was an earnest attempt to communicate the truth she had come to know. In the most recent live recording, Time Again, Amy Grant is a seasoned pop star, and many of the songs have the tired, worn-at-the-edges feel of someone just going through the motions. The highlights of the album come from her newer songs.

To top off my cluelessness, Jason and I were listening to Louis Prima and Keely Smith's Live From Las Vegas CD yesterday, and -- WOW! I'd forgotten how electric those two are together. Add Sam Butera to the mix, and you have an experience so exciting and alive, that it must be at least pretty close to the real deal. The cozy nightclub setting contributes to the great, off-the-cuff tone of the whole album.

Now, Louis Prima and Keely Smith were not trying to communicate any particular timeless truths with their music, but they were certainly having a hell of a lot of fun. There is something so elemental about hearing them together -- so fitting and right and complementary -- that really comes through on this album. Though it was recorded to be offered as an album for sale, they had sense enough to retain all the false starts and rib-poking and mild swearing that must have been an integral part of their act. Thank goodness they did, because, for someone like me who will never get to see their Las Vegas shows, I can catch the essence of what it meant to be in a smoke-filled room in Sin City in the 1950's at 2 AM, listening to Butera's wailing sax, Prima's swinging trumpet, and Smith's soaring vocals. It's pretty sweet.

So, I was wrong. Very wrong. Sometimes, sometimes artists get it very right with their in-concert albums. If they can shed any sense of self-consciousness and perfection and just go for it, the result is often stunning. I think, too, of Keith Green, whose every recording was practically "live," as he recorded his vocals with his music. No one can beat Keith Green for that immediacy of sound -- that in-your-face urgency that pours out of his songs. In fact, Keith Green in concert cuts is pretty indistinguishable from Keith Green in studio cuts. There is such a rawness in his music -- it is an awesome thing to witness.

I hope that if Carolyn Arends ever decides to record an "in concert" album that she retains the same sense of intimacy and in-the-momentness that makes her concerts such a treat. I hope she retains the jokes and the banter with Spencer and every wrongly-fingered chord that may come. That would be something to treasure for years.

My Inner-Anne

You can thank Joelle for this one:


Which L.M. Montgomery Heroine are You?

Why, thank you very much!


Anne Shirley*

Stemming from a single line in a note-book: "Elderly couple apply to orphan asylum for a boy. By mistake a girl is sent to them," arose a book that put Canadian literature and Prince Edward Island on the map. Montgomery worked on writing the story for eighteen months, and experienced rejection after rejection. Anne of Green Gables was at last published by L. C. Page Company of Boston in June of 1908.

It was instantly popular, appealing to a larger audience than the young girls it was geared towards. Mark Twain wrote to Montgomery saying in Anne she had created "the dearest, and most lovable child in fiction since the immortal Alice." A sequel was almost immediately demanded. Montgomery continued to write about Anne Shirley for the rest of her lifetime, and her career is irrevocably tied to her success with Anne.

Displaced, orphaned, alone, Anne weaves her way into he hearts of not only the fictional characters she comes across in Montgomery's plots, but also, and most importantly, the readers. Nearly one hundred years later, her worldwide appeal is untouched.

The Anne of Green Gables series is composed of eight books (the following contains spoilers, please do not read them if you haven't read the books and don't want them spoiled):

1) Anne of Green Gables - Anne finds her home with Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert at Green Gables
2) Anne of Avonlea - Anne teaches at the Avonlea school
3) Anne of the Island - Anne goes to college and becomes engaged to Gilbert
4) Anne of Windy Poplars (Anne of Windy Willows) - Anne teaches and writes letters to Gilbert from Kingsport
5) Anne's House of Dreams - Anne and Gilbert move to their "house of dreams" and she becomes a mother
6) Anne of Ingleside - Anne and Gilbert's family is complete
7) Rainbow Valley - The focus shifts to Anne's children as they grow up
8) Rilla of Ingleside - Focuses on Anne's daughter Rilla Blythe during WWI

*From The L.M. Montgomery Resource Page

***UPDATE***
And here's why I fell in love with Jason -- his quiz results:


How Gilbert are You?

Concert Albums: Being a Post in Which Nothing Particularly Deep or Important is Said

Does anyone else have a problem with in-concert recorded albums? The premise is great: Recreate the concert experience for the listener at home by capturing the moment in digital quality. But, it never really works, does it? I think that that is because the artist always knows when the recording will take place; therefore, some of the magical spontaneity of the concert just fizzles.

Were I queen of the world, my first decree would be that no performing artist is allowed to know in advance that a recording is being made of his or her concert. I think that that alone would go to great lengths to rectify this sad situation. Second decree: Grover Cleveland carved into Mount Rushmore. (But that's another reflection for another time.)

Take Amy Grant's latest offering, Time Again . . . Live. Now, I've been to many an Amy Grant concert over the years, and she puts on a great show. Time Again is not like going to one of her concerts. It was supposed to be an intimate evening spent in some favorites from almost 30 years worth of songs. Amy brought in her own furniture from home for the concert. The stage certainly looks great, with a big old couch plunked down in the middle. But, the concert never has that intimate feeling, because, instead of keeping it small and homey and simple and unplugged, Amy Grant chose to make it into a big production. It's too big and noisy and self-conscious. I never lose myself in the moment of an unrepeatable breath of eternity, whether listening to the CD or watching the DVD. It leaves me pretty cold.

Now, I can probably safely say that no other fan has attended the sheer number of Carolyn Arends concerts that I have over the past seven years. Carolyn Arends concerts are really something special. Far more special than even the best Amy Grant concert. She is an amazing musician, and she tours with this incredible musician, Spencer Capier, and together -- though they've played the songs hundreds of times -- something spell-binding happens when they jam on stage. It is as though, as they feed off of each other's talents, they draw so much inspiration from their mutual creativity that each song is born anew.

Could this magic be captured on a recording? There have been many of Carolyn's concerts where I've thought at the end, "That was so awesome. I wish it had been recorded so I could relive it." But, on Carolyn's compilation album from 2000, Seize the Day and Other Stories, she included three live tracks. And these tracks are, well, to me at least, less than inspiring. She went in and had a concert specifically to record those tracks, and it shows.

Now, should her people ever enact a covert operation and record a concert by stealth, I think we'd be in business.

I'm Going To Need Some Coffee . . .

. . . When Sadie wakes me up in a few hours!

After having goofed around with this blog for what seems like millennia, I have updated it almost to my liking. I wish the "Coffee Time" banner weren't partially hidden by the Blogger bar, and I'd love it if there were not a black, empty margin running down the right side, but I'm tired and sore and sick of thinking in HTML.

A new look for the new year -- thanks to Caz!

I do enjoy coffee. The coffee culture, rampant bibliophilia, gorgeous scenery, and relentless rain inspired and have continued to deepen my love affair with the Seattle area. This is home, and, for a while at least, my blog looks a bit more like home.

Happy New Year! May all your espresso shots be a perfect 20 seconds. May your beans grind to the maximum extraction of flavor and never to the bitter point. May your milk steam up as frothy as you like. And may life always be for you "good to the last drop."

Get the Hell Out of Here, 2006! or Counting My Blessings

All in all, this has been a year to forget, punctuated by moments of sublimity.

It's hard even to bring myself to the point of complaining, since the abundant blessings that flood my world far outweigh the multiplicity of headaches that pounded us from every direction this miserable year. So, I will not complain. Instead, for my own sanity and perspective, I'm going to remember the good stuff. There was plenty of that.

Sadie: This is the truest and best blessing of my life -- my daughter and the privilege of mothering her, teaching her, and learning from her. This year, I got to hear Sadie speak her first German words ("Ich heiße Sadie.") and see her dance in her first ballet recital. I got to tickle her, poke her, nuzzle her, kiss her, and rub her soft little downy head far more than she appreciated. I got to store a veritable treasure trove of funny memories as Sadie explored expressing herself in English. I got to have what Sadie calls our "pow-wows" late at night when sensible parents would have long had their children sleeping -- free-ranging conversations about whatever comes to mind. Watching her become the person that God imagined her to be is thrilling beyond compare. She rocks my world.

Jason: I have the best husband in the world. Protest all you want, fellow lady bloggers -- my man is the best; at least he is certainly the best for me. He is passionate, grouchy, funnier than anyone, works damn hard for our family and only complains a wee bit. He is a man, and he lets me be a woman. He loves his little Bug. He loves the Lord. He has made me laugh for the past 12 1/2 years, and he protects me and loves me and would kill anyone who hurt me. He's my biggest fan, and I am his. Whenever anyone asks me why I went to college in South Dakota, I always answer, "Why, to meet Jason, of course."

Shelter, Food, Medicine, The Basics: Okay, the rats almost got the better of us on the first front, but do not think that it has escaped me how very blessed we are to have a roof over our heads at all. We have food in abundance, beyond subsistence -- way beyond. We have great medical care -- the best in the world -- as was certainly driven home in a pointed way when Sadie made her Emergency Room trip in August. We do not worry from day-to-day about how we will survive. It may not always be so, but I'd be an ungrateful wretch, indeed, were I not to acknowledge what a supreme gift that is right now.

The Freedom to Worship: All over the world, Christians are persecuted for worshipping the Lord. In America, we are free to worship Him. That is a blessing not to be taken lightly, though too often I take it for granted.

Teaching Sunday School: Not only to I get to hang out with a sweet group of four and five-year-olds every Sunday morning, I get to share with them my love for the Lord. Wow!

Books: It will surprise no one who has ever read this blog before that I thank the Lord for wonderful books in my daily prayers. While this was a crappy year for debt and household issues, it was a remarkable year for books. In the interest of economizing space, I will write of the highlights here.

Music: Although my dad once called me "musically illiterate" (a label with which I will not quibble), the music I love is very important to me. I was blessed this year with attending a few more Carolyn Arends/Spencer Capier concerts, starting in January with the Carolyn Arends Forum International Round-Up (C.A.F.I.R.) in Ottawa, ON. This brought the doubly sweet blessing of good music combined with good fellowship. Carolyn also released a new album this year, which is always a treat, and she released some amazing "download-only" songs via her website. Any year that contains new Carolyn Arends music cannot be a total downer.

Friendship: My best friend, Sabina, moved back to Washington in July. This would make it a stellar year for friendship in my life without anything else added. BUT, I also got to meet, at last, a kindred spirit, vermonster, at the aforementioned C.A.F.I.R., and my blogging friends, Joelle and Andrea. Add to that the opportunities to chill out with my dear friends Kadie and Holly. The friendship of other women becomes more and more precious as the years wear on.

G.K. Chesterton: Although he ought, technically, to go under the "Books" heading, my discovery this year of the life and works of the amazing Gilbert Keith Chesterton towers above the other excellent books I read as a separate cause for celebration. I have tried repeatedly to write of Chesterton, but so far words elude me. He was a singular personality and mind: Quirky, witty, exuberant, confrontational, fearless, and a hell of a lot of fun. Reading him is akin to eating a perfect, ripe peach: He is juicy and messy and delicious -- he will get all over your face and drip down your chin onto your blouse, but there is nothing more satisfying.

Well, there is the shortlist of gratitude. There are myriad other notes of sweetness in the symphony of grace that infuses my world, but I shan't bore the reader by listing them. How grateful I am, most of all, that the love of the Lord keeps me from despair! He is so good to me.

Happy 2007 to All!

The Best Christmas Gift

Okay, the BEST Christmas gift is the best gift, period: The Birth of the Baby King.

But, I want to write a little about the best gift I've ever received in a purely secular sense on the holiday of Christmas. This is the gift that my memory recalls when people ask -- and people do sometimes ask -- me what present stands out most in my mind from my childhood. It was, by far, the most special, most surprising, most delightful cadeau that my tiny fingers ever unwrapped. But, first, a wee background story:

Shouldn't everyone have a groovy aunt? Every girl, at least, ought to have an aunt who is fun and generous and warm-hearted and intuitive and gives that little girl a relationship with an adult woman other than her mother and younger than her grandmother. I am a firm believer in the power of aunts. I had a groovy aunt, briefly. Her name was Linda.

Linda loved my uncle. And, I suppose in his way, my uncle loved Linda. One thing is for certain: Everyone else in the family certainly loved her. I remember well her constant inclusion in all things loud and chaotic and Italian that happened when my mother's family gathered in groups of two or more. There would be Linda -- beautiful, serene, laughing and wholesome. As far as I knew, she was my aunt. And a groovy aunt she was, indeed.

Now, for little children, the often ephemeral nature of pre-marital (and, far too commonly, marital), adult coupling is unfathomable. That two people could be so close -- share a house, a library, a bed together -- without that union's being permanent is not easily understood by children who long, more than anything, for the stable structure of family relationships that anchors them safely while they explore the astonishingly exciting and discomfiting greater world. But, that sad afterword is for later. First I must describe the gift that Linda gave me one Christmas years ago.

It was the day after Christmas. Were I a Canadian, I would tell you it was Boxing Day. But, since I am an American, I'll just use that woebegone term, "day after Christmas," which reeks of dropping fir needles and crumpled-up wrapping paper. My mother revealed a most curious item to me, telling me that it was my gift from Linda. It consisted of twelve pouches sewn onto a silken cord. The pouches were all that was interesting and gorgeous. What promise! What intrigue! My mother explained that it was a "12 Days of Christmas" gift. I was to open one pouch every day for the next twelve days. Now, here was an exciting concept, and one that was just so Linda to conceive. What could be a more suitable present for a child than to find a way to extend the magic of Christmas for twelve more days?

I do not remember much of what was in those pouches. My memory -- grousing and harrumphing in reluctance at being asked to perform such a difficult dredging -- brings up some chocolate coins and small toys of little lasting value or importance. Because, you see, the gift was not the contents of the pouches, but rather the very existence of those beautiful, exquisite pouches themselves. I remember staring with no little awe at the intricacies of the sewing and the patterns of the pouch material -- no two alike. At a Christmas where I can pretty much assume that most toys were popped out of a plastic mold in a distant land, to behold such thoughtfulness evident in every stitch and fabric selection was humbling and edifying. The beauty of a mind that could invent such a present was not lost to me, even in my grubby, self-centered kid-ness. "Linda" she was, indeed.

Well, soon after this Christmas, I lost my groovy aunt. She -- remarkable and sensible woman -- desired marriage and children. My uncle did not. And so, in his stubbornness and indolence, he paved paradise and lost her. And he lost her for me. My beautiful, kind-hearted Aunt Linda was gone from my life, taking a bit of the magic of my childhood with her. With preparation like this, there was a deadened sense of resignation for me when my parents divorced a few years later. This is what happens, I guess, I thought. Adults pair up and separate and nothing is lasting or true really at all. Had I not found the never-failing Father of Life in my early twenties, I shudder to imagine what my own history of relationships would look like. I thank God that He showed me what faithfulness was and is and ever shall be.

Linda found a marriage-minded man and, I believe, had children. I've lost track of her, of course. What can a child do to sustain relationships? The last I saw of her was after my parents had divorced and she had opened up a travel agency. As for where she is today, I can only guess. But, I pray that she is happy and healthy and some lucky young woman's groovy aunt. Maybe, someday, our paths will cross again, and I will be able to let her know how much her gift of love and consideration over twenty-five years ago meant to me.

In her honor, I do my best to try to be a groovy aunt to my own niece. Aunts rule! (Ask Jane Austen.)
Happy 12 Days of Christmas!

15 Simple Ideas for Making Christmastime a Little Merrier

Now and future ways we try to make Christmas a little holier, sweeter, and merrier at our house:

1) Never leave a shopping cart in some random area of the parking lot. Take it back to the store -- who couldn't use that little bit of exercise? -- or, at least, put it in the cart return. Wandering shopping carts, whether in herds or solo ramblers, are a pain to other shoppers and the store's employees. (Okay, I do this all year long -- but if more people did it a Christmastime, wouldn't that be great?)
2) Buy a Salvation Army bell-ringer a hot cup of coffee or hot cocoa. Thank them for volunteering (most of them are volunteers out there in the freezing cold). Give them some money -- it doesn't have to be a lot.
3) Shop neatly. Put books back on the shelves at bookstores. Refold sweaters at department stores. Never, for crying out loud, leave refrigerated items that you've changed your mind on in the middle of dry-good aisles at the grocery store! Busy employees really notice and appreciate this.
4) Donate to Toys for Tots, or some other organization that puts toys in the hands of disadvantaged children at Christmas. If you have kids, let them pick out what toys to donate.
5) Go to candlelit Christmas Eve services at church.
6) Go caroling in your neighborhood. Invite your neighbors to come along as you progress. (I've never tried this one before, but I plan on giving it a go this year.)
7) Read aloud the Christmas chapters from Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books. Remember a time when kids were thrilled to get mittens, an orange and two pieces of candy for Christmas.
8) Bake cookies. Eat lots of cookie dough.
9) Wear red and green together as much as possible in December. Wear a Santa hat!
10) Tip people who do not normally get tips; e.g. fast food workers, retail employees, your UPS and USPS delivery men, etc.
11) Volunteer in some way at your local Union Gospel Mission. (I have yet to do this, too; but, I really want to do it next year, instead of simply making a monetary donation.)
12) Tell everyone, "Merry Christmas!" Avoid the insipid, "Happy Holidays!" as much as possible.
13) Watch Christmas movies: A Christmas Story, Christmas in Connecticut, The Shop Around the Corner, The Ref, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, etc. . . . whatever floats your flying sleigh!
14) Listen to the following Christmas music: The Nutcracker, Op. 71 by Tchaikovsky, The Messiah by Handel, A Christmas Album by Amy Grant, Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas by Ella Fitzgerald, Christmas: An Irrational Season by Carolyn Arends, A Very Veggie Christmas by VeggieTales.
15) Never let the gladsome tidings of the angel chorus two thousand years ago fade from your memory. Never lose sight of the star. Do not be afraid! I bring you good news of great joy. It is for all the people. Today, in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you. He is Christ the Lord. Luke 2:10-11

How do you make your Christmases a little more merry?

We celebrate the Baby King
And everything He came to bring
Everytime we give goodwill to men
So, on December 25
Or in the middle of July
Anytime we do what pleases Him
Then it's Christmas . . .
Merry Christmas . . .
This is Christmas -- Now in flesh appearing
Yeah!
-- Carolyn Arends, "Now in Flesh Appearing," from Christmas: An Irrational Season (2004)

A Richness of the Written Word: My 2006 Reading Highlights

This is how persnickety I am: I am sneaking this list of my favorite books of 2006 into November, simply so that I can have an uninterrupted archive list on my blog for every month of every year. I'm really writing this in December, but it will be our little secret. So far as the archive list knows, this was penned in November (a month spent in reading Chesterton, and not in writing at all).

Some of the highlights of my 2006 reading list (in no particular order):

· The Abolition of Man by C.S. Lewis -- Have you ever something that just sucked the air out of your lungs with its insight and perfection? Read "Men without Chests," from this C.S. Lewis trilogy of essays, and you'll read something that almost made me faint with its splendor. Lewis is writing about the modern methods and philosophy in education (this was in 1944, and it has only gotten worse since then): The Chest -- Magnanimity -- Sentiment -- these are the indispensable liaison officers between cerebral man and visceral man. It may even be said that it is by this element that man is man: for by his intellect he is mere spirit and by his appetite mere animal. . . . And all the time -- such is the tragi-comedy of our situation -- we continue to clamour for . . . qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more "drive," or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or "creativity." In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful. (C.S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man (New York, NY: Touchstone, 1996) p. 36-37)

· America Alone by Mark Steyn -- I read this in October while I was at the Liberty Editors' Conference and it elicited simultaneously chortling laughter and shuddering chills. Steyn combines three socio-economic issues into one horrific vision of the future. I must remember to add Mark Steyn to my reasons for loving Canada (near the bottom of this blog).

· The Tale of Despereaux: Being the Story of a Mouse, a Princess, Some Soup, and a Spool of Thread by Kate DiCamillo -- This book is so whimsical and romantic and charming, that it matters not that it was written for elementary school children. It was one of the best books I read this year, because the story was so compelling and odd and other-worldly. Reviewers at amazon.com either loved it or hated it. Mark my vote in the "loved it" column.

· New Mercies by Sandra Dallas -- Although not as good as what I consider Dallas's best novel to date -- The Chili Queen -- this book was certainly an enjoyable read. Dallas knows how to spin a good story, and it's nice to see her leaving behind some of her earlier repeated themes and striking out in new directions.

· The New Testament and Literature: A Guide to Literary Patterns by Stephen Cox -- How I just revel in the writings of Stephen Cox! I love the way he uses words. The fact that what was written certainly to be a text book is one of my best reads of the year just speaks to his skill. Of course, the subject matter was of particular interest to me, as Dr. Cox maps the "genome" of the New Testament and provides a accessible guide to that canon's DNA. I'd never before looked at Biblical writing in that way. He then applies this "genetic code" to Christian and post-Christian literature with illuminating results. One of the best things about The New Testament and Literature is that it led me to discover the novels of Thornton Wilder and Harold Frederic, both of whom are coming on this list.

· The Bridge of San Luis Rey and Heaven's My Destination by Thornton Wilder -- These novels are very different from each other, but they are alike in excellence. The Bridge of San Luis Rey is set in 18th Century Peru, and it has an almost dreamlike quality in its telling of the intertwining of lives of people who plummeted to death in the collapse of the namesake bridge. Heaven's My Destination is firmly placed in 1930's America, and in a modern, humorous way it spins the yarn of traveling salesman and self-professed evangelist, George Brush. I would recommend both.

· The Damnation of Theron Ware by Harold Frederic -- Harold Frederic is a subtle observer of human character who trusts his readers' intelligence enough to allow them to fill in the finer points of his novel's story. This book will not be read passively. It is brilliant and wry and vaguely disturbing, and it is a story that will stand many re-readings, each time with new insights.

· A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole -- After repeated badgering by my father, I read this book over the summer. Thank you, Dad! This is one of the great novels of character written in the 20th Century. A more extensive (but by no means exhaustive) review of this book can be found here.

· Godless: The Church of Liberalism by Ann Coulter -- I know, I know. Ann Coulter is one of my guilty pleasures. She is so abrasive and can certainly be . . . well . . . mean, but I find so much of what she writes quite funny. She throws all the right people into a fit of rage. To paraphrase what someone once said of Grover Cleveland, "I love [her] for the enemies [s]he has made." Godless was both a riot and a heartbreaker. My favorite chapter was, "The Holiest Sacrament: Abortion." Coulter hits her mark so well. Flame away if you want, but I'll keep Godless on the list.

· The Narnian: The Life and Imagination of C.S. Lewis by Alan Jacobs -- This book is a unique twist on the traditional biography. Jacobs writes a story of the internal life of C.S. Lewis, with the external facts mentioned more for contextual clarity than exploration. What a page-turner! This book inspired my plan to read every book that Lewis wrote in the course of a year.

· Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art by Madeleine L'Engle -- Carolyn Arends recommended this book during a live, on-line chat with her fans (to commemorate the 10-year anniversary of her first album's release). Having just been burned by the unspeakably foul waste of paper, A Prayer for Owen Meany,* that I had read because of her enthusiasm, I picked up this L'Engle offering with a bit of trepidation. What a delightful surprise awaited me! Madeleine L'Engle has a way of writing in which every word is touched by magic. There is an aura of holiness that surrounds this compact work. If you enjoy any sort of artistic endeavor, whether as a creator or observer, then this book will edify and fulfill you.

· Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton -- Above and apart from these other wonderful books and writers that have enriched my life this past year stands the discovery of G.K. Chesterton. Where have you been all my life, Gilbert Keith? The first of his books that I read was Orthodoxy. I have tried repeatedly to write of this book and the others of his that I have subsequently read, but words fail me. He is almost too important to me to bear examination. The thing that I have learned most of all in my infancy of Chesterton fan-dom is to expect the unexpected (as he himself wrote of in Heretics). He astounds me -- always running ahead of me, beckoning to me to join him on the next level; then, when I catch up to where he was, gasping for breath, my legs quivering with exertion, he is already far up into the next leg gesturing wildly and encouraging me with a jolly wink and a broad smile -- and how can I resist joining him, though my lungs are on fire and my mind near exhaustion? Nothing can prepare you for reading G.K. Chesterton -- he must be experienced to be believed (and even then he remains almost beyond belief).

So, there are some of my most enjoyable and enlightening reads of 2006. I hope that by listing them out I have sparked some interest in one or more of these titles in you, dear Reader.

Happy Reading in 2007!

*To Flicka and Kadie: I know you both love this book. And I love you, anyway.

The 800-Pound Gorilla in the Room

Last week I had the privilege and pleasure of attending The Liberty Editors' Conference in Las Vegas, NV. It was a double boon, not only to spend some time with some of the preeminent libertarian minds in the country, but to spend some time in one of my favorite cities in a really delightful hotel and casino, The Mirage. It was an altogether good time, and a welcome break from the unremitting gloom I've found myself enveloped in lately due to the general state of the world. Las Vegas always seems so removed from the real world -- a glittering, neon-ladened, hedonistic tribute to excess and debauchery that normally would disgust my Austenian sensibilities, but that somehow, on that little strip of sin in the Nevada desert, works. It is easy to lose one's self there.

I highly recommend that anyone who is in love with the concept of liberty attend a Liberty Editors' Conference or, as is coming up next year, FreedomFest. It is refreshing and restorative to find a brotherhood of ideas and good will within the fiercely individualistic and diverse members of libertarian thought.

I could write a score of pages about the conference, but I want to write about the session that has haunted me the most. I attended a panel discussion on "Libertarianism and Religion." It seemed to me that the only topic worth discussing in this forum was answered within the first few minutes: Are libertarianism and religion compatible? Can one be both a libertarian philosophically and a devout practitioner of a certain theology without dire conflict? The answer is: Of course! So, where do we go from there?

I was hanging out with my friend, Joelle, a few months back, and I happened to mention that I had just discovered that a libertarian writer I had always loved, Stephen Cox, was also a Christian. I expressed my surprise at this to her because, I pointed out matter-of-factly, I had always assumed most libertarians were atheists. Joelle replied in her honey-tinged Southern drawl, "Well, I didn't know that. All the libertarians I've ever met were Christians." Reflecting on our shared circle of libertarians, I realized she was correct. The libertarians she and I run with are all Christians. Of course, this is a very narrow group -- all drawn together by the wonders of the Internet and blogosphere -- and I still believe that a parity, if not a majority, of libertarians is atheist.

Now, the panel at the conference was interestingly made up of two Christians, one agnostic, and one amusingly outspoken atheist. The audience, however, was mostly comprised of atheists -- or at least those were the ones who asked the most questions and made the most proclamations. My favorite moment of the session was when the first panelist, Jo Ann Skousen, introduced herself as a religious Christian (to the point of being *gasp* a Sunday school teacher) and gloomily predicted that she was the only religious libertarian on the panel. The next panelist, Stephen Cox, then introduced himself as a Christian, and Mrs. Skousen caught her breath in surprise. She exclaimed incredulously, "I had no clue! I've worked with him for three years on the magazine, and I had no idea!" It was funny and poignant and real -- we Christian libertarians have a long road to journey into the heart of a skeptical and humanistically rational political philosophy, but it is heartening always to find fellow travelers.

Now, the reason that this session sticks in my mind so decidedly is not because of what was said, but, rather, what was not. It is no surprise that religious people -- at least Judeo-Christian religious people -- can be libertarians without any compromise to their faith. In fact, as a devout Christian (to the point of also being *gasp* a Sunday school teacher), it is impossible for me to reconcile my understanding of who Jesus is and why He came and died and my freedom in Him without embracing libertarianism. As Libertarian Party members used to have to sign a "non-initiation of force" pledge upon joining, I have always held to that ideal in my political beliefs. I read in another's blog once that the church can and should do things that the government can not and ought not do. That makes a lot of sense to me. I will only refer to Christian libertarians for the rest of this post, since, as Ann Coulter once wrote, "I am a Christian, and I have a fairly good idea what they believe." Ann Coulter annoys both many libertarians and many Christians, so it is fun to quote her here.

After the session, my father and I were taking refreshment and discussing the, er, discussion. My dad said, "Did you notice how no one wanted to bring up the 800-pound gorilla in the room?" I was confused and asked, "What 800-pound gorilla?" My dad replied, "Well, no one brought up the main political breaking point between libertarians and Christians -- abortion." I was surprised my dad thought about this, since he has never been particularly concerned about abortion. But, my dad knows that I am, and what bothers me concerns him, I suppose. I had actually not thought about abortion during that session, and so I quickly began to think of what he had said.

The Libertarian Party platform contains an endorsement of unrestricted, privately-funded, legal abortion. In a party radically committed to "choice" of all kinds -- most of which I heartily agree with -- it is not surprising that people of that mindset would be seduced by the deceptive idea of a "woman's right to choose." On the other hand, there is a small, but growing, minority within our political philosophy that recognizes the faulty reasoning and inexcusable irrationality behind viewing abortion as a right rather than a violation of rights. The most prominent of these proponents of the pro-life point-of-view is Doris Gordon, the atheistic founder of Libertarians for Life. Her rationales against abortion are entirely scientific and philosophical. There is also James Matthew Wallace, aka the Compleat Heretic, whose conservative economics trend him libertarian, but whose abortion stance is strongly pro-life.

After reflecting upon those two good, pro-life atheists, and scummy pro-abortion "Christian" churches like the Methodists, I said, "Well, I do not think that abortion is the dividing line for libertarians and Christians. You can certainly be pro-life without being religious." And I mentioned Libertarians for Life. "Yes," my dad acknowledged, "But it is mostly Christians who hold to the whole reverence for life thing -- a gift from God -- human at creation, and so on." "I'm not too certain about that, " I replied. "It seems to me that atheists have a good reason to hold life sacred, since they believe that this life is all they have." "'Sacred' implies a religious outlook," my dad insisted. "No," I said, "I don't think so. I think most of the people at this conference would hold the concept of individuality 'sacred' without referring to God. 'Sacred' can simply mean something incorruptible and of the highest esteem." My dad ceded my point.

I think that the line that divides atheist libertarians from Christian libertarians is our epistemology. Most Christians believe that rational explorations are best examined in light of the perfect knowledge of God. Most atheistic libertarians would probably subscribe to Ayn Rand's belief in secular human reason. While this philosophical difference is a sticking point, I do not think that it is a breaking point. While atheistic and secular libertarians may subscribe to the ethics of enlightened self-interest, and Christians hopefully cling to the ethics of enlightened God-interest, neither of us wants to be ruled by rampant gov'ment-interest. And, surely, both of us can agree, in general, to the non-initiation of force. And I think -- I truly hope and believe -- that this belief in the non-initiation of force will soon lead even secular libertarians of all stripes away from one of the most egregious modern examples of unjustifiable initiation of force: abortion.

Abortion was only mentioned once at the conference that I heard, and then only by its socially acceptable euphemism of "choice." It was mentioned by Liberty's founder Bill Bradford's sister, Barbara, when asserting her concern with the "religious right's" influence on the Republican party. The two examples she brought up were their being anti-pornography in public libraries and their being anti-choice. I would think that, as a libertarian, she would be more concerned with the idea of public, tax-supported libraries than a group's wanting to keep pornography out of them (which would not be an issue in private libraries). To her worry about "choice," I could only hope to persuade her that, in a just and civilized society, no persons should be held as sub-human, no matter where on the life continuum they fall, and that no one should have the ability to murder another human, no matter how little they want that person around. Part of libertarian feminism ought to be a vociferous opposition to abortion, as abortion is essentially an admission of women's inability to shoulder responsibility for their actions. But, I do not think that this would be a breaking point between us. We would still most likely agree on 90% of the issues at hand, and those commonalities would be a gateway to persuasion.

I am a former radically "pro-choice" woman, and I do not doubt that all reasonable, ethical, clear-thinking people will eventually turn away from the great lie of abortion and toward respect for human life at every stage of its development. Libertarians, especially, will become the great standard-bearers of the pro-life movement, precisely because we do not believe in the initiation of force, whether by governments or individuals, and we do believe in the extreme importance of the individual -- a sacredness that cannot be corrupted by another's desire to see that individual annihilated. That is one of my great hopes for the movement.

Maybe Dad's 800-pound gorilla was there, but maybe it was more of a 130-pound chimpanzee. To turn a phrase of Thomas Jefferson's upon its head, "I tremble with anticipation for my political philosophy when I reflect that libertarians long to be just -- that their sense of justice cannot sleep forever." Libertarians are a relentlessly decent lot, and this decency will turn them increasingly toward the pro-life point-of-view. The view that one person can ever be another's property to be disposed of as the "owner" sees fit is so unsupportable within libertarian principles that it will give way inexorably to the shining ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

I Hate Halloween!

And not for the reasons that most Christians do. In fact, I hate it not for any religious reason at all.

My daughter is fearless and curious. This year, with the proliferation of Halloween decorations everywhere we go, Sadie has been exposed to some very frightful images. Since she is curious, she examines and is fascinated by every single one. And, in the daytime, she is fearless. BUT, for the past month, she's been waking up every night, sometimes in tears, because of nightmares. I am convinced that this is due, in large part, to the Halloween decorations. There are gruesome, blood-covered, disembodied heads and arms meeting us at every retail turn. There are jack-o'-lanterns with vicious, vacuous smiles and adult-sized mummies with creepy eyes peering between the wrappings that lunge toward the unsuspecting when triggered by motion sensors. There are vampires and witches and I even saw some sort of flying skeleton ghoul at Albertson's last night.

Note to retailers: This stuff really isn't "fun," people!

It seems like this is a lot worse than when I was a kid. I was a cowardly child who had nightmares about the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, but the decorations in everyday settings around Halloween nowadays seem to go beyond the silly Disney frights and into the realm of real terror. I could understand these realistic depictions of our subconscious bugaboos in adult settings, but these truly horrifying "decorations" have found their way into kid-friendly places like The Little Gym, Sam's Club, and, as before stated, the grocery store.

I can hardly wait until November 1 and another ten-month respite from the ubiquity of annoying and frightening Halloweenisms. Bring on the Christmas decorations!

Happy Birthday, Flicka!

I have good reason to believe that Flicka Spumoni's birthday is occuring today. A happy, blessed birthday to her! As fine a writer as she is, of course, ageless -- existing on a separate parallel outside of time where every mark with keyboard or pen leaves an indelible stamp on eternity.

I do not know much about Flicka, but everything I do know makes me wish to know more.

She is as gifted a writer as you could hope to find and I trust that we'll all soon be saying to our local newspapers, "Why, (Flicka Spumoni)? Of course! Well, you see, I've known her since the blogging days . . ." as we bask a bit in her reflected authorial glory.

Check out the "placeholder" page that I made for her at 43 People. It's nice to have someone on my list there who is still alive and kickin'. (I tend to like far too many people from the past, but, really, looking at so many of the people of today, can you blame me? All dear readers of Musings are excluded from that general censure.)

Happy B-Day, Lower Great Lakes Lady!

My New Wallpaper

Jason put up a new wallpaper on our computer's desktop -- a fact that interests no one but me; however, this picture is too cool to remain veiled from the world at large so I am posting it here for the general edification of the masses (my five remaining stalwart blog readers -- I love you guys!).

Behold! Here are two of the world's finest music makers, and one very accomplished general noise maker at a CPC fundraising dinner on September 23, 2006 in Coquitlam, BC. Ladies and gentlemen, I present Carolyn Arends, Spencer Capier, and that Meck Creature of a Child herself, Sadie Bug:

If I Were Queen of the World . . .

. . . you would all be reading The Narnian: The Life and Imagination of C.S. Lewis by Alan Jacobs, which is as enchanting a biography as I've read since The Woman and the Dynamo: Isabel Paterson and the Idea of America by Stephen Cox. Because, you see, that is where my tyranny and absolute authority would bubble to the surface. I do not want the tiaras and palaces and courtiers -- I want a bookclub draft, wherein I decide what gets read, and then people have to sit with me (I'll serve tea and some sort of delectable -- it will be a benevolent dictatorship) and discuss the books with me until I get them out of my system. That would save me a heck of a lot of writing, since the only way I can get these books off of the brain is to sit and write out long-winded reviews.

I am so much more the reader than the writer. I jump from one lovely book to the next, with scarcely a breath drawn between. Of course, this rampant bibliophily means that too few of the books that feed my soul get their own "writing out" day in the sun. For instance, I have lately been enamored of the books of Thornton Wilder. I read a trio of his that inspired awe in me for their sheer divergency and, yet, uniform excellence. I wanted to shout out to the world that these three novels were worthy of resurfacing in public acclaim, and I desired to ignite a discussion of how one author could write in so varied a manner; but, even so, they have gone unreviewed, unacknowledged and unseen in the archives of my many blogs. Now, they won't leave me alone -- they are like little ghost children hanging about me, tugging on my sleeves and hems, crying plaintively for a "writing out." But, I have read too many books since then, that I could not do them justice right now. (They are, for those of piqued interest, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Heaven's My Destination, and The Ides of March.)

The same could be said for Stephen Cox's more recent book, The New Testament and Literature, which is a rich, satisfying journey through literary patterns that unite the writings of the New Testament with much of the subsequent literature produced by Western Civilization, both by Christian and non-Christian writers. This book filled me so full by the end of the first read, that I had to let it sink in a bit and read its cited sources before attempting a second read-through. I'm currently in that second read-through (concurrently with The Narnian), and I'm getting even more out of the text this time. Yet, I somehow know that at the end of it all, it too will fade before its just written examination, because I'll be off and running on another literary quest.

It is the frustration of my life that I cannot find just one person with whom I can read all things at the same time. Someone with similar tastes and a well-informed mind who can, at the same time, bring a diverse history of digested literature to the table that complements but does not copy mine would be ideal and lead to lively discussion and an enhanced reading experience. My poor husband has to hear an earful about books he'll never even want to read every night, simply because I cannot keep my mouth from yammering out all of the thoughts that are racing through my head. I've been in bookclubs before, but the tyrant in me cannot abide by some of the lame choices I've wallowed through when it was another member's turn to choose the title.

Okay, I'm not such a prig as that previous paragraph makes me out to be. As I was reading it over, I felt, all of a sudden, like Kim Jong Il in Team America, singing, "I'm Ronery." The thing is not that I cannot find people who are well-read and highly informed and far more intelligent (or, as Kim Jong Il might say, "interrigent") than I. Frankly, that describes most of my friends. It's just that no one has the time or inclination to ride with me on this wild, breathless journey -- hopping from book to book like a two-bit whore. Hmmm . . . the imagery there went from epic to vulgar in 2.5 seconds. This is what happens when it is 2 AM and you're sitting in front of your computer, lamenting the fact that you just read an amazing insight in a C.S. Lewis biography and have no one at all with whom you can revel in its artistry.

I apologize for the rambling. Back to The Narnian for me! Maybe I'll write about it later. Maybe not. So far, it is excellent.