This is so silly. If you go back to my previous blog, The Book of Common Life, you'll read an explanation as to another move. Please don't make fun of me. That would make me sad.
This is so silly. If you go back to my previous blog, The Book of Common Life, you'll read an explanation as to another move. Please don't make fun of me. That would make me sad.
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Woodboy got some packages in the mail today, including what he called, my Christmas present, which he had me open right then and there. He'd bought a first edition of a book by a poet called Ruth Pitter, who was a contemporary of CS Lewis, even credited Lewis with her coming to know the Lord. I opened it up, stuck my nose in the middle of it, and he said, "It smells like 1934, doesn't it?" The title of this little beauty of a poetry book is A Mad Lady's Garland, which my husband thought was pretty appropriate for me. So, I said, "Mad with anger or crazy-ness?" He just laughed. Which reminds me---I told him that Ruth Pitter became, get this, an Anglican after confessing Christ. Made Woodboy (the faithful reformed Presbyterian) laugh again. Score one more for the Anglicans. Shoot. He only reads Anglicans and Catholics, especially Lewis and Chesterton. I see a pattern here. ~ ~ ~ On to other things. We've had a owl hanging around our yard for a couple of days. Heard it late yesterday afternoon, at about 4pm, and we went out back to see if we could catch a glimpse of it. Nope. Went into the front yard, and our sweet Mexican neighbors had heard it too. Unfortunately my Spanish fled when I wanted to speak to Francesca, who had gotten so excited, pointing over to our huge Oak. She could see the owl, we couldn't, and her English is as spiffy as my Spanish, so she was busy chattering up a storm, and I'm trying to work up my courage to say, "Donde esta?," or whatever I needed to say. Didn't have a clue as to what owl was in Spanish, so Woodboy was saying to her, "Where is it? Can you see it?" and we were getting nowhere. She had to go, then we saw it fly away a few minutes later. Huge wingspan. Failed conversation. Well, late this afternoon, I could hear it again from our bedroom, and went out to see if I'd have better luck. Nothing. Sat out and held Milk while the other chickens finished a dish of greens and tomatoes. The owl all of a sudden sounded closer, and up I looked and there it was, right over my head. A Great Horned Owl. Gorgeous. But not what I wanted to see looking at my chickens. It was impressive, though. Hollered at the kids to come and see, which they did, and I stayed out until the chickens went in to roost. But at one point, the owl flew from one branch to another, and the chickens saw it, froze and craned their little necks to look up. Then the other 3 made tracks into the coop, while head chicken, Milk, waited around. Then she began to make lots of racket before she went into the coop. So cool. And, yeah, I have an appointment with the backyard tomorrow just before sundown. No animal sacrifices at this house. ~ ~ ~ On I blether...And, at the library used bookstore, found some treasures today. The Caxley Chronicles by Miss Read, and a reader's copy of Jan Karon's newest, Somewhere Safe with Somebody Good, in perfect condition. And that one was unmarked so the clerk, who we're getting to know---sweet guy, let me have it for dollar. Got an unusual oversized Alice in Wonderland with the classic John Tenniel illustrations, for youngest son (who loves that book), and a Dava Sobel for Woodboy, who was just saying the other day he'd like a new one from her. I'm thinking Christmas. ~ ~ ~ Anything else? Nope, I think that's about it. And please disregard the books in the background in the photo. No addiction problem with me, no ma'am. Seems life is challenging in ways I don't expect. Last night was peaceful, everyone was feeling cheerful, and unexpectedly our dog, Romeo, began having a really strange episode---not sure what to call it. He got up suddenly in the living room and began trembling and his back legs were weak. He couldn't put weight on them, and obviously he was panicked about it. All sorts of things went through our minds, including a possible seizure. Woodboy and second son, who was home for a late dinner after work, took him into the kitchen, shut the door from everyone and my husband just put his arms around Romeo. And they prayed. Gradually Romeo calmed down, came back to himself, and appeared fine. Slept okay, though we kept him shut up in the kitchen off of our bedroom. By the time we all got into bed it was nearing 2am. I think we got to sleep at around 3. I prayed that whatever decision my husband made this morning in regards to the vet, etc., would be the one most pleasing to the Lord. He said we'd just watch Romeo this weekend, and if he had another attack, we'd take him in on Monday. And he shared the most wonderful thing. He said as he held Romeo, he was praying to himself. Hard. Our son was too. And while this situation lasted several minutes, he said that as soon as he stopped praying, the instant, Romeo stopped trembling and was fine. That moment. He said he had the overwhelming feeling of amazement that the Lord was there in the room, listening to him and healing Romeo. Do we ever really come to realize how totally wild it is that the God of Eternity bends down and listens to us? Isn't that so wonderful? Should make us shiver. He wants us in His face All The Time. And to trust Him for all of it. Even an overly-aggressive, high testosterone dog like Romeo. (That beggar is getting fixed after Christmas, let me tell you. Might help his personality, which would be a good thing.) Today's been fine. We're sort of shell-shocked, but Romeo appears to be recovered as well. Lots of hugs. And remember, we lost our dog, Opal, just about a month or so ago. Stress much? We really don't need more, but I do love the story my husband told. To feel God right beside you is truly awesome. Why would you want less? |