the last man standing

Our home has been under quarantine for the past couple days. It has been eerily quiet, unnaturally so.

And thus we all turn that corner to a new year, with all those resolutions that are hardly ever kept, fresh ambition, a new semester to look forward to after being well rested from our holidays (hopefully), plans and events to fill up the blank pages of that clean calendar.

So here's a prayer that your next year may be filled with joy, even in the midst of trials, and that you continue to receive the many blessings poured freely from above with open hands.

rearranging priorities

The Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot

"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death."

adventures through the looking glass

The next two weeks I am home. Mostly. Enough to call it home for the holidays. Things have been put away, Christmas music was playing in my room almost all day. And Monday, there is no need to drive anywhere.

This evening I curled up in a chair with my little sister by the fireplace, and read some poetry out of a newly acquired anthology of British literature. "You're finding a lot of adventures in there," was her response to my excitement over the authors found in there (Byron, Tennyson, Hopkins, Wordsworth, to name a few).

Not coming home for a weekend reinforces the great blessing of the times I am able to come home.

an apology

"Always be prepared to give an answer for everything."

laughing like children

The Hamilton Spectator is most helpful in regards to decorating.

Today consisted of a step backwards in time. Only at Redeemer can one spread newspaper across the hallway with tape and scissors and scraps of paper while managing to escape with only odd glances cast in your direction. Only here are you a name and a person, not a number, and feel at ease with the professors who seem to enjoy the antics.

Quote of the day: "What are you doing?" - Dr. Bowen

the genius of Handel

How is that we can offer up such a beautiful song of thanksgiving and praise to the King of kings and Lord of Lords, the omnipotent God?

crunch

Two weeks from today will be my last day of exams.

Two weeks from today, I will be able to go home for a full two weeks; spend time with family and friends, bake cookies, catch up on sleep, read a book purely for enjoyment (perhaps getting through textbooks properly)

skating, singing [loudly and off key], snowmen...

late nights curled up beside a fireplace with quiet music and a steaming mug of hot chocolate...

kids and mittens, glowing from the cold...

these are a few of my favourite things that make home wonderful

Advent

"Are you ready for Christmas?"

Why does the next question after the former have to do with shopping?

a closed chapter

why people should study English

word of the day: unmellifluous

On another note, Friday evenings are not conducive to writing essays.

fried onions

"The price paid for knowledge is the loss of the eye of innocence."

- Stephen Leacock

'x' marks the spot

X

originated as the Phoenician letter samech, which has been translated as prop, support, post or a fish. X was related to the Greek xei, which sounded like "ks". The Romans adopted the Greek xei but used the form of the Greek chi. X was the last letter of the Roman alphabet until around 50 AD. Several authorities — Ben Jonson among them — consider X to be a less than legitimate letter because the ks would replaced its sound so easily. Though X is the least used letter in English, its a well known symbol of Christ (Xmas), was used as a signature by illiterate people throughout history, and has always “marked the spot”.
http://www.alphabetandletter.com/X.html

X is Christ
x is the unknown
X is the way to the eternal Treasure that we continue to search for, digging up fields and giving all that we have to own that Treasure

an evening spent in song

Music is an unavoidable aspect of our home, whether you want to hear it our not. Strains of classical from the kitchen, the squawk of new violinists, the attempt at quiet strumming drifting downstairs, a whistle, a plunked out chord...

constant babble around the dinner table, shrieks of laughter from outside, running footsteps, the creak of doors and hardwood floors...


All nature sings, and 'round me rings the music of the spheres.

touching the sky with your toes

it's the small things

the real stuff

"Do not climb into a cannon when they are shooting it.

Do not open the drawbridge for strangers."

in preparation

Vivaldi, a mug of steaming tea, and apple pie to go along with the homework. Add a quiet home and the sound of rain sifting through the trees.

What more could you want?

open window

Autumn is drifting back with clear blue sunny skies and crisp breezes.

surpassing knowledge

"how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ ...

that you may be filled to the measure

of all the

FULLNESS

of God"

as we keep spinning

The colours are returning to their natural state once again with the rich gold and reds. Routine is settling down yet seeming not to slow down.

Do we ever stop to see the plastic bag dancing in the wind, to see the beauty in simplicity? The early sun playing with the dew?

How much is missed and gone unnoticed?

big things in small packages

I love getting mail. Cards, letters, even bank statements, but especially packages that hold books. Space is becoming scarce on my bookshelf.

They smell good as well. :)

bay

at the close

The dusk comes with the song of birds, softly washed clouds, and solitude. Just a girl, nature, music, a pen, and words to offer up in thankfulness.


Quote of the day: "We're not 'kiddie' cats, we're unicorns."

"Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening."

Are our ears still open for the call?

defined by flying squirrels

Life is peaceful at midnight. The crackle of the fire overriding hushed conversations. Stars obscurred by the light of downtown.

Midnight. That time when coaches turn back into pumpkins, when the Sandman is making his rounds, the start of a new day, the turning of time.

afternoons and coffeespoons

Word of the day: Brilliant

Didi: [as an insult to me] You're brilliant.

He wisely decided to call me brilliant after he learned the definition.

washed in pastel

the remaining puddle after a light rain

summer, sneakers, scattered showers and sundresses

Sorry, Brittany - I just stole half of your alliteration.

Too much food is a bad idea.


The path followed was blackened tar this evening. Running a relatively straight course, though many deviants are scattered in opposite directions leading to an abrupt end.

"The course of love never did run smooth" (A Midsummer's Night Dream, Act 1, scene i) - or life, in this case, but it does lead onwards to a better destination than those found by veering away.

entertained by ants

As I was walking down the yellow line again this evening I was once more faced with binary opposites. On the left was the dark mystery of the cornfield, a foreground to the smog of glittering downtown. The right was on fire with light, the weeds and grass lit up across the surface, dotted with purple and yellow. Behind the trees was the setting sun, a calling to the light.

Dark and light - the ultimate conflict, the debate of phototaxis. Do we seek the mystery or look to the light?

keeping up with the Joneses with a chance of incoherency

Apparently I don't post enough.

Summer has most definitely arrived in all of it's various forces, including the unrelenting heat and the drenching rain. Cloud watching was a possibility last week ... this week we observe them roll over with the thunder.

quotes of the week:
"Where do you live?"
"Ev'rybady need somebady."



We live in a materialistic society, constantly on the look out for that one extra shirt or that really nice book that will make us happy. It is never enough. So often discontent, we need to see the sun behind the clouds and appreciate the rain for what it does (beyond making us wet). Every action is determined by the pursuit of happiness. Seeking heavenly pleasure provides glimpses of true pleasure, a promise anticipating the glory which is to come.

crazy little thing called love

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who
loves has been born of God and knows God. [1 John 4:7]

Love isn't easy. Then again, sometimes it is. The natural affection felt for parents, siblings, family, friends at times seems to ebb and flow. Sometimes you want to burst into song and dance while at others you wish to never associate with them again.


Friendship love is a strange thing. It begins, strengthens, fades, and resurfaces. Or else becomes naught but a shadow and a semi-sweet chocolate memory. Other times it is just there, waiting on the sidelines for the opportune moment to remind you of the special times.

Love asks for self-sacrifice, other-love instead of self-love.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not
proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it
keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the
truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always
perseveres. Love never fails. [1 Corinthians 13:4-8]

Our earthly love is to be a reflection of the heavenly love which God has shown to us. Through the love which we show others should be able to see the Trinity at work in us.

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son
as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we
also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one
another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. [1 John 4:
10-12]

sittin', wishin' but definitely no waitin'

For those who have seen the Lord of the Rings films, you should remember the leather-bound, hand-written edition of the Hobbit.

This is as close as I'll come to it with this not even being the real book.

the things one doesn't forget

I rode my bike again today. It was a strange feeling.

evening peace

The sky was darkening as I set out, with the sky dramatically lit with dark clouds and golden highlights. Gormley is quiet at 9 on a Friday night. A rabbit froze on a lawn, the Great Blue Heron took to flight, various other birds made their way home, the frogs began their evening lullaby. A few notes snuck through a window from someone practising violin. My shoelaces tipped while I enjoyed the upbeat music playing on the iPod. As I crossed the train tracks a slight breeze tumbled down them, rattling the sign as if in a ghost town. The scent of flowers and freshly mown grass accompanied the breeze. As I passed home, the dog joined along, her nails clicking eagerly ahead of me. The wind found on higher altitudes caused my shadow to look more like Scarecrow than a blackened reflection of myself. The point of return had arrived, the sky dark and blue above the orange glow of downtown Toronto. The front door had been left ajar, welcoming both me and the mosquitoes home. It was quiet, peaceful, a good place to return to. There is no place like home.

thinking

I was thinking today that I don't think enough. Work becomes a mindless activity, where thoughts traverse the spaces of meaninglessness and nothingness.

We are called to be an example and a light to the world (Matt 5:14), to be an example and win others for Christ (I Cor 9:20-22). It is such a huge task set before us, one of which I often fall short.

Why is it hard to stand out in such matters? Anything else I like to be the stubborn one not blending in like a pine needle jammed into your palm, but when I am called upon to stand up for what I believe in my tongue remains silent.

Not that all conversation need revolve around matters of the Church, but it is difficult to make faith shine through in normal, everyday type of conversation.

Aim for the week: to have a love that radiates.

following the yellow line

Sometimes you just can't see the line, at other times it is chipped and patchy. Sometimes, the way is clear and bold. Sometimes we can dance along beside it or follow it carefully, one step in front of the other. Sometimes we like to deviate completely from the line and wander up a hill to watch the sun dip behind the trees.


Downtown Toronto is beautiful in the evening, with elongated shadows over the fields and the light hitting the buildings, glinting off of them. The clouds behind it just turning pink and orange, while the rest of the sky remains blue with a white moon.

the proof is in the picture

See ... girls can operate machinery. And yes, I did drive it around the parking lot and not just sit there for a photo.

itching to run

Although the majority of my day is spent outside (especially during the time where it is best not to be in the sun), I want to see more. To see trees without tree-wells, wildflowers instead of those deliberately planted, tall grass blowing in the breeze, rutted roads with quaint shops where cars are a scarcity and the view of the sky is only obstructed by trees and the occasional farmhouse...

... to have a good conversation about the things that matter in life, to enjoy the warmth without worrying about overheating, to fly a kite, to kick back and watch the clouds drift past, to dream, to breathe deeply, and listen to the music of the spheres.

introductions and salutations

Mom is braving the world of technology and has joined Blogger here. The site is in progress, but she will have some incredible pictures and food for thought (just to set the standards high).

And I am not biased.

the simple things

Closing a window is easy. What I don't understand is how my finger got caught. ["It got caught ... in Frederick's teeth."]

It hinders the work, the guitar, and the piano. It's a tough life, I tell you. Tough and rough.


Rant for Brittany: guys are stupid. That has been the catch-phrase for the past week, and looks as though it will be for this one too. Don't get me started on the hows and whys. I don't think it would be appreciated if this were to be a daily occurrence, so I'll keep it to this.

[Note: new sneakers, my beautiful edition of Treasure Island, and the battered copy of Jane Eyre]

lightening the load

There are reasons why I should not go the Chapters/Indigo on a regular basis.

• their books are cheaper online
• buying online is not possible because I don't have a Visa card
• there are way too many nice books that I would love to have on my shelf
• my shelf is not large enough for all the books that I would like to place on it
• I can't afford all the books I'd like to place on my shelf
• going in store leads to the inevitable buying of at least one book. How can I resist when it even smells good?
• much time is consumed browsing and debating and deliberating and sighing and longing

Blasted Chapters.

the benefits of old age

I really shouldn't have given up on exercising for the past month.

At least I haven't started talking to myself ... yet.

our Father

our
Possessive pronoun
Origin: bef. 900; ME oure, OE ūre, suppletive gen. pl. of wē we from same base as ūs us
Of or relating to us or ourselves or ourself especially as possessors or possessor, agents or agent, or objects or object of an action

father
Noun
Origin: bef. 900; ME fader, OE fæder; c. G Vater, L pater, Gk patr, Skt pitar, OIr athir, Armenian hayr
A man who exercises paternal care over other persons; paternal protector or provider

all creatures of our God and King...

Norah, Marten and I went to go see Disney's Earth film this evening. Our world is incredible. The vast array of species with countless individuals within each family is astounding. And the scenery... positively breathtaking. The panoramic views of moutains, fields, waterfalls, the oceans ... the film is worth seeing just for the waterfalls.





Though He was never mentioned, God's almighty majesty and hand in creation can clearly be seen in this film. In the sleek muscles of the cheetah, in the folds and wrinkles of the elephant, in the windswept dunes of Africa, even chase to death. This world is beautiful, and yet we see so little of it, have so little appreciation for it.

late night drives

John Cheever's The Swimmer was mentioned on the radio this evening. This has no impact on those who did not take English 103 with Dr. Bowen this past semester, so I will move on.

Actually, that was pretty much all I wanted to say. That I like hearing references to things I learned about.

And that I love my friends. And that coming to Hamilton lightens my pockets. And 10:00 p.m. is a wonderful time to sing in the car with the occasional dance move thrown in.

hanging out the [clean] laundry

sunny days = sunscreen (actually used it today) + photo ops + kids playing in the dirt (which, incidentally, = more laundry) + swings + books + front porch + hanging laundry on the clothesline (namely, my sheets)

I'd also like to note the beauty of blue and white. Side note: That is why I'm hoping to repaint my room from blue and white to grey with white trim and blue accent pieces. Blue rooms are becomming cliché so I'm going for something new. Side note aside, I still really like blue and white.

Maybe I'll actually go to bed on time tonight to revel in the freshness of spring.

"boys pursing summer butterflies"

[Coriolanus, Act IV, scene vi] taken totally out of context

And thus summer begins on the front porch with a stack of a combination of great works and not-so-intelligent-fiction.


I don't think I'm ready for it yet.

the waltz of the leaves

The leaves are playing a game of freeze tag across the lawn, flitting with a whisper over the grass and skittering across the pavement. When the wind dies down, they pause, some trembling with anticipation in the bright rays of the sun. These acrobats are like no others, flirting with wind and light.

the slow progress of a pilgrim

I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face
from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I saw
him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled; and
he cried out, “What shall I do?”

Yet at the foot of the cross we can find relief from all our burdens, whether they be of moderate weight or heavy burdens that we have been carrying with us for years as shackles. These shackles are constantly tripping us, hindering the race towards the goal.

How often do we allow ourselves to be carried away by the reading of a story, that we sit, weeping and trembling? In Guy Vanderhaege's story "How the Story Ends" a young boy sits, immersed by the story of Abraham leading his only son to be a sacrifice. The old man who reads him the story is also engrossed, so much so that he does not notice the battle waging in the young boy. He himself sees where the story is headed, the image of the Angel and redemption before his eyes. The boy only sees death, death and blood, a father trying to appease a god with the life of his son. So terrified, he rips the page out of the book, wanting to know the end but not waiting to hear.

Either we are too impatient to hear the resolution that we skip to the end or we sit passively, allowing the words to surround and wash over us but never affecting and filling us.

Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses,
affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons,
subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by
the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us do we not bleed?
If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die?

- Merchant of Venice, Act III, scene i

Are we not stirred by the words of Shylock? Do we then cry with Abraham as he walks forward in faith to give up his son? Do we feel the anger of Jonah? Do we rejoice with Naomi? Do we cry as we look to the cross although we know that Christ will be victorious? Are we filled with awe as we read John's description of the new Jerusalem, filled with the light of the Lamp?

We are pilgrims on a journey. Let us weep with those who weep, laugh with those who laugh, sharing in both their joys and sorrows until every tear shall be wiped from our eyes.

a complete venting of all frustrations

grr

gettin' there

I miss being outside.

Does anyone have any good walking trails recommendations?

wordpress blues

Well, I like the layout, but it causes people to change all their links and such so I'm back.

Post from last week:

02.04.09 why love tomorrow when the sun comes out today?

It’s amazing how a day that begins so dark, dreary and drizzling [I love alliteration] can turn out to be so beautiful. Too bad that paper season confines us indoors where the light is either artificial or only streaming in through the window - which is not nearly the same as being outside in the brisk breeze.

indecision

I moved to wordpress, wasn't a huge fan, but now I'm starting to figure it out. I still don't know how to delete all the extra boxes along the side, but that will come.

So I'm staying there for a while yet.

ranging in complexities

Apparently the more syllables in your name, the more complex you are.

I have 13 in my name: Maria Angelina Beatrice Geertsema. Yep, there's definitely thirteen. No wonder I have problems writing Personal Mission Statements for Ped-100.

How complex are you? [That sounds awfully like those quizzes on Facebook, sorry.]

mice can be nice

I think I'm going to call him Cedric. He's a daring little guy. And I think he's all for the Green Team because he stole a part of my grapefruit peel which will now decompose in the garden.

I got to eat a whole grapefruit today, with the luxury of not worrying about making a mess on the floor.

for those procrastinating or looking for a brief respite from schoolwork

In truth, I have nothing of consequence to say. The stack of books beside me does not grow smaller, so I am ignoring them for the moment.

A few recommendations:
- Hamilton Art Gallery. Free for students: can it get any better? Only when there is a piano as a piece of art. And paintings by Emily Carr and Lawren Harris (member of the Group of Seven). The piano was one of the coolest things I've seen in a long time.
- Puddles. Make hay while the sun shines. Except in this case, jump into them while you have the chance.
- Empty auditoriums. Best place to play piano. I think I like it. I can even hear myself sing in there. It's amazing.
- Grapefruits. Need more be said?

And if you are looking for more time to squander: I need a name. Masculine. Old-fashioned with character.

flutes

It is only a tool.

A tool forged from

the metals of the

earth. From silver.

From gold. Fashioned

by history. Crafted

by the masters. It is a tool

that shapes mood and

culture. It enraptures.

Sometimes distracts.

Exhilarates and soothes.

Sings and weeps. Now

take up the tool

and sculpt music

from the air.

- from Muramatsu Flutes

sacrifices

Either I need to go to bed on time or get a new alarm clock.

introductions 101

Lesson one: meet many people while attempting to remember their names.

Yup. What else can I say?

hidden treasure

Background information: Last semester I took money out of the bank with which to buy second-hand textbooks. Didn't find any, but that's besides the point. Anyway, I placed it somewhere, couldn't find it a month later and assumed it had gotten thrown out with the trash.

Last night I removed the box of Puffs tissues from my dresser drawer. Lo and behold, The envelope of money was hidden beneath it. This cold has been a blessing in disguise.

That was yesterday. Today, I'd like to be back to my 'normal' self, minus the cold and shivers.

for brittany

I really dislike tissues. As in the Kleenex kind of tissue. Kleenex even has a website now. For little pieces of paper with which you blow your nose. Personally, I prefer Puffs. They're much softer and generally smell nicer. Especially the kind with Aloe in it. Those are my absolute favourite if I really and truly have to use a tissue. Handkerchiefs are infinitely worse, though. It's disgusting. Just think of all those germs that get put into your pocket, and then on to your hand, and then get spread around everywhere. At least with tissues they're disposable.

I also dislike having free time. There is much I could and should be doing, but nothing that is definitely for tomorrow. *Sigh.* It's worse when you have to wait around for something to happen. Par example, tomorrow, I am watching the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, the good one with Colin Firth. Not that Firth makes the movie (don't debate this with my friend), it's just closer and more accurate to the book. I'm not expected there until five. Class ends at 1, leaving me with four hours with which to do nothing. I am open to reasonable, note: reasonable, suggestions. Dates are out of the question because I now have a reputation to maintain. It's quite a good one at that, if I do say so myself. Leaves me free to be unfettered.

It's fun to plan for the future. Right now, I'm working on organizing two weddings, should they ever come about. Yes, my own is one of them. Some of the essential details are missing, but attire and musician(s) are pretty much taken care of. What more does one need?

Until then, I shall dream of my little house perched atop a cliff, from which I can watch the waves crash against the rocks beneath me. With a big library. And money with which to travel to the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World and to go back-packing through Great Britain. I had better take some self-defence and kickboxing classes before I do that. Drat being frail and weak. Maybe I should allow my reputation precede me, as a force to be reckoned with. He he. One can always hope.

unless you become like children...

[Matthew 18:1-6]

Norah has a beautiful faith. Already at the age of five she shows love for the Almighty in all she does. After dinner, we sing Psalms and Hymns that the children have learned, usually a new one each week. With the exception of Dad, Norah drowns us all out. Why? "Because I just have to sing loud."

When her favourite bunny kicked the bucket, so to speak, she accepted it as part of God's doing.

My aunt who was visiting from B.C. left yesterday morning, leaving both Norah and Mom a little at a loss. Mom explained that she missed her sister, just like Norah (hopefully) misses me during the week. "Yes," Norah replied, "but aunties and sisters all were made by the same two hands" - so she was allowed to miss our aunt just as much.


I want to be more like my little sister.

susjes

we match :)

my favourite things

My new favourite flower: because blue and white go so well together. Like blue paint and white curtains, or jeans and a white sundress.

I also enjoy having an organized bedroom. Who knew so much could accumulate on a bookshelf over a couple of years? Strangely, it seems more full now than before.

love

I don't give out nearly enough hugs. I have so many people who are special, and yet I never take the time to give them a hug. So please don't mind if I give you a hug when I see you: sometimes it's easier to show in actions what you feel than to say it in words.

ambulation

If you Google the word 'walking' over 200,000,000 entries show up. How can so much be said about a simple action that we do every day?

Metaphors found in reading are there to make familiar things strange and alien things familiar [paying attention in class is paying off]. "The walking metaphor is so common that it is easy to stop noticing it, so pervasive that it is easy to forget that it is only a metaphor. At the same time, of course, walking is more than a metaphor. It is one of the most natural and useful things for a person to do. You can’t understand the human condition without understanding the experience of walking." http://www.rickaster.com/world/walking.html

I love walking - just putting that out there. So if you ever want to go for a walk, just let me know.

ladder pending

While I am posting pictures, here are a few others for fellow booklovers.

The fire place which I helped sand - very proud of myself. And of course my beloved piano.

Et la pièce de résistance:

It is much more inspiring in real life.

no comment

So this is what happens when I'm away.