Well. It’s been a while, my friends. It begs the question, “Where do I even begin?” I think I’ll take a baby step. I’m not going to worry about writing with a flourish (then again, have I ever?) … I’m not going to delve into a deep theological or political debate … I’m not going to regale you with stories of what I’ve been up to over the span of the last (almost) two years. I’m just going to share with you a few things that have caught my attention or touched my heart over the last few weeks, and we’ll see where things lead from there. Perhaps I’ll get back into the swing of things, as it were. Perhaps this will be a one-time thing. I’m not going to make any promises, but I will make that baby step.
I’m still no Catholic, although I have, admittedly, done a bit of searching in that direction in the past. (If I still have any sort of readership after my long absence, all of my fellow Baptists are clamoring to each other in shock over that statement. I know, I’m such a heathen.) That said, I do follow several Catholic bloggers, and what Haley at Carrots for Michaelmas had to say about her introduction to the Christian liturgical year has been rolling around in my head for the past few days…
He began a lecture for our Literary Classics of Christianity class by drawing a line across the board. He then drew two upward marks evenly spaced. The first he labeled Easter, the second Christmas. “This, friends, is what most of us in the South have grown up believing are the events of the Christian year. Wait, I’ve forgotten the Fourth of July,” and added a mark in the middle of the Christian Year timeline. Growing up in the South as an Evangelical Protestant, I knew he was right. Every Sunday at church feels pretty much the same except for those three days. Easter we had lilies. Fourth of July we sang “God Bless, America,” and Christmas was the last Sunday that we had to sing “Angels, We Have Heard on High” and hear someone belt out “O, Night Divine” as a solo.
“But this isn’t the whole story,” he told us. Then our professor started to add marks to the timeline. And not just marks, but blocks of time. There weren’t just a handful of special days to add, there were entire seasons I had never known about!
– Holy Time: The Gift of the Liturgical Year(Carrots for Michaelmas)
I’ve been working my way through Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are, so I was delighted when someone recently shared this piece on women who marry boring men. It really struck home and, admittedly, might have made me tear up. A little. Perhaps.
Don’t ever forget it:
The real romantics are the boring ones — they let another heart bore a hole deep into theirs.
Be one of the boring ones. Pray to be one who get 50 boring years of marriage – 50 years to let her heart bore a hole deep into yours.
Let everyone do their talking about 50 shades of grey, but don’t let anyone talk you out of it: committment is pretty much black and white. Because the truth is, real love will always make you suffer.
Simply commit: Who am I willing to suffer for?
– The Real Truth about ‘Boring’ Men and the Women who Live with Them: Redefining Boring (A Holy Experience)
I have struggled a little with her writing style in the book (which I’m planning to review on here in the near future), but the more I read her blog, the more I realize that she really hits home with her content.
And on an entirely unrelated note…