back to school

It's the first day of classes for spring semester at FIT, and I'm starting right at 9 a.m. with Creative Writing. I'm excited to meet my new students and get into the swing, but it's been a real challenge to prepare amid some pretty serious personal tumult. Among other things, Bob has been out of town for over two weeks (he returns Friday), which means that I have truly been a single mom with all that entails. (Jenn M. et al., I don't know how you do it!)

Stella's sleep patterns have been even more erratic than usual (and there have been numerous poopie incidents), and it has taken both kids awhile to adjust to their dad's absence. But so far we're surviving and have even managed to have a little fun, like when we went into the city to get Stella's hair cut at Cozy's (the only place that can actually cut her hair) and afterwards to Patsy's for pizza. The spiritual work I have been doing has really made it possible for me to handle everything, along with the support of my parents and a couple of extraordinary friends. OK, time to finish the syllabus and head to class!

in dreams begin responsibilities

It is an historic day, awesome in the original, true sense of the word. A day worthy of Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man" (which just happens to be on WQXR radio right now). But, as the president-elect reminds us, the responsibility for change lies with all of us. I came across a passage by C. S. Lewis recently that expressed a similar concept in theological terms. Of course, I have been completely unable to locate it right now. Stay tuned.

saganaki

This video taught me how to make one of my favorite Greek delicacies. Fried cheese? What's not to like? It really works. I should know, I live in a Greek neighborhood. (I recommend dipping it in flour again after the second dip in water.) Serve with ouzo over a little crushed ice, and your favorite bread.

for small (?) favors

Bobby left yesterday for a Florida vacation with his uncle, aunt, cousins, and grandparents. Feeling extreme gratitude right now that I did not find out about the plane that crashed into the Hudson River until after I got the call from Uncle Mike saying that their plane (which left from LaGuardia) had landed safely. Also that at least one member of my family is able to avoid the frigid weather (not to mention going to Disney World)!

I was shopping in the Flatiron District and wondered why the streets were clogged with firetrucks and other emergency vehicles. Went blissfully on my way in search of warm clothing and a much-needed replacement for my shredded, ancient comforter. I was in Bed, Bath, & Beyond, as a matter of fact, when Mike called. And it wasn't until hours later, after lugging my parcels home and getting Stella off the bus, that I turned on the radio and heard the terrifying news. Unbelievable. What a miracle that all those on board survived.

Not even thinking about that flight to Chicago I'm taking in a few weeks...

100 days

Who is Sharon Jones and where did she come from? (Georgia, by way of Brooklyn, apparently.) In any case, I want to be her when I grow up. A fantastic song with lyrics that strike just the right balance of bitter and sweet. An interesting concept that it takes 100 days "to know a man's heart" (and "a little longer...for him to know his own"). That is, of course, a rough estimate. Actual results may vary.

abyss of love

I ask no one to pronounce, for I dare not pronounce myself, what are the possibilities of resistance in the human will to the loving will of God. There are times when they seem to me--thinking of myself more than of others--almost infinite. But I know that there is something which must be infinite. I am obliged to believe in an abyss of love which is deeper than the abyss of death: I dare not lose faith in that love. I sink into death, eternal death, if I do. I must feel that this love is compassing the universe. More about it I cannot know. I leave myself and all to him.

--Frederick Denison Maurice, from Theological Essays, rpt. in Glorious Companions: Five Centuries of Anglican Spirituality by Richard H. Schmidt.

christmas

The hanging of the stockings, and me and my boy Christmas morning (note Granddad in mirror, and the lovely piece of furniture behind and to my left--my secretary, which I will install in my own home when I can find a place for it).

beautiful

Just heard a lovely version of this on Pandora.com by Chris and Meredith Thompson. It seems apropos for a lot of situations right now.

There Is a Balm in Gilead
African American Spiritual

Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain,
But then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul,
You can tell the love of Jesus and say, "He died for all."
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

Don’t ever feel discouraged, for Jesus is your friend;
And if you lack for knowledge, He’ll never refuse to lend.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

tired

Not feeling like much of a blogger these days. And I'm tired of worrying about who's reading my blog and what they make of it (and of me, my family, friends, etc.). Feeling like not being so public right now. And I need to see if I can actually remember how to write a poem. I'm taking a break for awhile. See you later.