Blessings and a cure

refractory |riˈfraktərē|adjective formal

stubborn or unmanageable : his refractory pony

We did a little time traveling this weekend - back to a time when being tarred and feathered was considered  "a cure for the refractory".  (That's the bag of feathers you see there.)  In the scene below is a man who was refractory, and was on the verge of being tarred and feathered.  But he expressed remorse and was saved from that fate.

This was just one of Colonial Williamsburg's "Revolutionary City" events Saturday.

We were there, under the cloudless blue skies of a nearly perfect day, to enjoy the pageantry, the gardens, the history, and the food.

I first visited Colonial Williamsburg in the 1960's with my family, and though it rained the entire time, I have great memories of that visit - especially eating dinner in the basement of Christiana Campbell's.   Soon after we were married, my husband reported to Officer Candidate School at the Coast Guard Reserve Training Center at Yorktown, Virginia,  just down the road from Williamsburg. My father and I drove him to Yorktown, and while there we visited Williamsburg and ate at Christiana Campbell's.  My husband and I have been back numerous times over the years and have found something new to enjoy each time.  Every visit has been a blessing.

We arrived for this visit late Friday afternoon, as the sun was going down.  Firewood was stacked in front of a  number of buildings - ready for the many fires that will be built when the weather turns colder.  The streets were fairly empty.  It had rained not long before.

Saturday morning we toured the gardens (and took many pictures) at the Governor's Palace as we waited for an audience with Thomas Jefferson. 

Following the audience with Jefferson, a "Revolutionary City" program was held in the garden.  The time was 1775 and three Shawnee Indians who were in Williamsburg to keep the peace were discussing their situation.  One of these actors is on the cover of a recent issue of Our State Magazine.

Afterwards, Hal enjoyed coffee with George Wythe at Charlton's Coffeehouse.  (I enjoyed tea at another table.)  The Coffeehouse was still being excavated on our last visit, but is now open and serving samples of coffee, tea, and chocolate.

Some other highlights of our trip included:

The ox and all of the other animals.

Fifes and Drums

The horse-drawn carriages.  We overheard a woman announcing that she'd just been proposed to while on a carriage ride!

Visiting Great Hopes Plantation on the walk from the Visitors' Center to the historic area.

Checking out what's growing in the Colonial Nursery.

Visiting the brickyard and learning how bricks were made and fired.

We didn't take any building tours on this trip, opting to be outdoors most of the time.  To really enjoy everything about Colonial Williamsburg, we would have needed at least a three-day visit.  

We've been to Williamsburg in all seasons except the heat of the summer and all seasons have something special to offer - but I think fall is my favorite.  Some of the trees were already brilliantly colored, but the peak of the fall color is over a week away.  (For fall color and garden pictures, check out my other blog, Ginny's Garden.)

We headed home Sunday afternoon, crossing the James River on the ferry.  

We left Colonial Williamsburg behind but brought home many memories to cherish.

The circle grows

Our family

is a circle of strength

and love.  With every birth and 

every union the circle grows.

Every joy shared adds

more love.

Every crisis faced together

makes the circle stronger.

I have these words in callligraphy and framed on my piano, surrounded by family wedding photos.   In my extended family every word of this is true. I was reminded of it this past weekend when we gathered at my sister's to celebrate the birth of the newest family member - a girl, my sister's grandchild and her namesake.

At the gathering were my brother and his wife, who will celebrate their first wedding anniversary this week, and my nephew and his bride-to-be.   Many of our group weren't able to be with us for the gathering, but we felt they were with us in spirit.

We have rejoiced in the additions to our family this year, and we have also grieved together.  The patriarch of our family, my father, died in March.  I wrote about how we strengthened each other in a post that week called "In the midst of grief blessings abound".  

Joy, love, strength - these are the gifts my family has given me.  G.K. Chesterton said that "gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder."   I am filled with gratitude.

 The family gathering this past weekend.

The family gathering to celebrate my dad's 89th birthday in September 2009.

I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich. ~

Dan Wilcox and Thad Mumford, "Identity Crisis," M*A*S*H

 

"Go and serve creation joyfully"

Today is  the feast  day of St. Francis of Assisi.  Most of us are familiar with the Prayer of St . Francis of Assisi and of St. Francis's love of animals.  Many churches hold a blessing of the animals on this day. He was a man who loved and revered all of God's creation.   In an article in Lutheran Woman Today, Bryan Cones writes that St. Francis is most well known for his poverty, and that it was through poverty that St. Francis' "found oneness . . . with the whole natural world, with all of God’s creation. "

" In his poverty he learned what so often we forget. Not only are we as utterly dependent on God as the birds of the air, we are no less tightly woven into the tapestry of creation. We belong to a vast web of created things, each linked to the others, and we, perhaps, need them far more than they need us. Francis reminds us that as we watch the destruction of God’s creation around us, we are watching also our slow demise."

May this canticle from St. Francis of Assisi remind us of the great wealth we are blessed with.

CANTICLE OF CREATION

Be praised Good Lord for Brother Sun 

who brings us each new day. 

Be praised for Sister Moon: white

beauty bright and fair, with wandering
stars she moves through the night.

Be praised my Lord for Brother Wind,
for air and clouds and the skies of
every season.

Be praised for Sister Water: humble,
helpful, precious, pure; she cleanses
us in rivers and renews us in rain.

Be praised my Lord for Brother fire:
he purifies and enlightens us.

Be praised my Lord for Mother Earth:
abundant source, all life sustaining;
she feeds us bread and fruit and gives
us flowers.

Be praised my Lord for the gift of life;
for changing dusk and dawn; for touch
and scent and song.

Be praised my Lord for those who
pardon one another for love of thee,
and endure sickness and tribulation.

Blessed are they who shall endure it in
peace, for they shall be crowned by
Thee.

Be praised Good Lord for sister Death
who welcomes us in loving embrace.

Be praised my Lord for all your
creation serving you joyfully.

Francis of Assisi, 1225 A.D

Go and serve creation joyfully!

"an emotion has found its thought"

And every year there is a brief, startling moment

When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and

Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless

Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:

It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;

It is the changing light of fall falling on us.

from "Fall" by Edward Hirsch

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words. ~Robert Frost

This is just a portion of a  poem that I read last week in "The Writer's Almanac", a treasure of a daily electronic newsletter from Garrison Keillor and publicradio.org.  Click on the link above and read the entire poem - you won't be sorry!

 Each "The Writer's Almanac" newsletter includes a poem and some historical literary highlights of the day, with links to more information on the authors mentioned.

This poem, from the newsletter on September 25, expresses so much of what I feel about Fall, especially in the lines above.  I've tried for several weeks to capture this essence of Fall in photos and I've failed.  

This poem proves to me that  the image formed from words can be more vivid than a photograph or a painting.   

Gifted writers bless us all with their words.

What writers have blessed you?

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin

What is was was football

I'm not a fan of football in general.  I'd much rather work outside in the garden or read a good book than watch a football game on television.  But I am a fan of the college football Saturday experience, especially at UNC-Chapel Hill, where I went to school long enough to meet the love of my life.  We've returned to campus for a game whenever we've had the chance over the years - and we had a chance this past weekend.  It wasn't classic football weather - it was much too hot - but everything else about the day was memory-making fun.

Our son, daughter, and son-in-law joined us (all UNC-CH graduates) with four of our grandchildren for the pre-game festivities, including the drumline and the band. (This video is from 2008, but the sound hasn't changed.)

At the stadium spirits were high as the team arrived on the field.

The young fan in front of me soon shed his blue wig because of the heat, but he didn't shed his enthusiasm.

Our cheering and enthusiasm didn't result in a win, but it was a fun game all the same.

Afterwards we joined the crowd and walked to Franklin Street to our favorite restaurant and rooftop bar to cool off.

All in all, it was a blessing of a day.

And here is a blessing for all of us - Andy Griffith and his "What it was was football" routine.

A wayside sacrament

"When I admire the wonder of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, 

my soul expands in worship of the creator."

Mahatma Gandhi

 

 

The late afternoon-early evening view from my deck 

I had planned to catch up on some household chores after work today, but fatigue and the beauty of the evening sky convinced me that those chores could wait.  I took Ralph Waldo Emerson's advice.

Never lose an opportunity to see anything that is beautiful.
It is God's handwriting - a wayside sacrament.

Window Cleaning

"We're all shut up in rooms.  Everybody.  And nobody can ever get in to anybody else's room.  That's because we've got bodies.  And the only way we can have contact with people is through the windows in our rooms. . . And some people have more windows than others.  And everybody's windows get dirty.  So there need to be window cleaners."   Felix to Katherine in Madeleine L'Engle's "The Small Rain"

The windows to our souls - the windows through which we view the world and the world views each of us, as Felix says - these windows get dirty.  Maybe there are objects in our windows, too, as there are in my kitchen window.  They don't necessarily obstruct the view but they may affect our perspective.

The short passage from "The Small Rain"  had me thinking of all the obstacles to community, to understanding and caring for one another -  to seeing each other through our windows.  Is it only dirt and objects in the windows that keep us from seeing and knowing each other?  Don't we also close the blinds and draw the shades on ourselves to keep others out?  At other times we seem to hang mirrors in our windows so that we don't see out at all, we only see a reflection of ourselves.

Our windows are clouded and dirty or even shuttered with prejudice, pain, fear, and countless other things.  We're isolated. We are helpless to clean or open our own windows.  Our relationships and communities suffer.  Yet we want to belong and be loved, we long to connect.  We need to see and be seen for who we truly are.  

We're not capable of cleaning these windows on our own.  We need God's help.  We need the tools he can provide:  a listening ear, a compassionate heart, a forgiving spirit, unconditional love.  We can allow ourselves to be God's window washing tools.  When we are willing to forgive and be forgiven, to share ourselves and to listen, to love without reservation - then we will see each other and the world more clearly.

"The most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention…. A loving silence often has far more power to heal and to connect than the most well-intentioned words. " — Rachel Naomi Remen

In her book, "My Grandfather's Blessings",  Remen writes about her grandfather's death and her realization that he had taught her what it means to be blessed:

"At first I was afraid that without him to see me, and tell God who I was, I might disappear. But slowly over time I came to understand that in some mysterious way, I had learned to see myself through his eyes. And that once blessed, we are blessed forever."

Bless and be blessed.  Wash some windows.