Hello readers,
I’m so sorry that I whiffed on a poem for April. There have been some changes in life recently—most of which I will tell you about very soon—but the abbreviated version is that I forget what day it is sometimes, which meant that April crept up on me. My apologies. As penance, I washed all the yellow pine pollen off my steps this afternoon.
The Part Where There’s an Essay: What Women Say
I am blessed at this time in my life to meet regularly with various women who are in all stages: single, married, with kids, with no kids, with illness, death, loss, uncertainty, infertility, moves, miscarriage, and kids growing up. It has struck me repeatedly recently how much they (we) bear for ourselves and others. Lord, be near.
I think most women gladly carry the sorrows of others, I said. They just do.
She said:
I should hear back from the doctors next week.
The baby only lived a few hours.
He’s feeling better every day. We have more good days than bad days now.
It was a nice goodbye. We sang around her bed as she went.
So take up what we've been given
Welcome the edge of our days
Hemmed in by sunrise and sunset
By our youth and by our age
Thank God for our dependence
Here's to our chasm of need
And how it binds us together
In faith and vulnerabilityThis cup, this cup
I wanna drink it up
To be right here in the middle of it
Right here, right here
This challenging reality
Is better than fear or fantasy
Why didn’t she tell us earlier? We could have saved her so much sorrow.
He’s just weary of being taken advantage of.
Will it be like this with my kids when they are grown?
He works so hard. I’m thankful. But I’ll be glad when this season is over.
I don’t know if it’s just my hormones, but…
He just said it wasn’t for him.
There’s not much more they can do about it. It’s just the way it is.
Please pray that I can trust the Lord in this. It feels so heavy.
Our joy is born
In labor pains
Love suffers long
But not in vainHear all you children of Heaven’s promise
Shivering under clouds of gloom
Hear all you wond’ring where Your God is
Jesus weeps tonight with you
Take heart
He has overcome the world
I can be content. Lord, help my unbelief.
(song lyrics from “This Cup,” by Sara Groves, and “Take Heart,” by Mission House)
For the Anglophiles
We are on a run of Shakespeare-related headlines here in the Anglophiles section. Today, we have an Oxford University professor who uncovered a hidden copy of a sonnet. Not just any sonnet, mind you, but THE sonnet: 116, which begins “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments….”
(Marianne. You’re so much better off.)
Reads & Listens of the Week
How Art Sits with Us in Our Sorrows: Collin Hansen interviews Russ Ramsey about his most recent book. (Remember, I recommended this one in my most recent Ex Libris!) I loved the bit about his connection to his farmers from home.
I enjoyed this tribute to Flannery O’Connor on the occasion of her 100th birthday:
O’Connor made it clear in her letters and essays, however, that she wrote such shocking fiction not in spite of her Christian faith, but because of it. She wrote what she saw, and she saw a world that was broken beyond self-help or “Instant Uplift”—but a world also in which transcendence was forever threatening to break through, welcome or not.
Lastly, this is neither a read nor a listen, but it is very refreshing if you need to stretch for a second:
When all the suns and nebulae have passed away, each one of you will still be alive.
C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Such good reading here, Kelly. Thank you. These are welcome and needed words today.
I also just listened to that discussion with Russ Ramsey and it had me nodding my head in agreement (haven't read his book ... but made me want to!).