Sermons and Reflections from an Episcopal Priest
Picked up a bouquet of white and yellow mums and a box of chocolate croissants from Trader Joe’s on Friday. Enjoying them both – and the light streaming in from our wood-framed window – this morning.
The first week of 2013 was wonderful and the second one is off to a good start.
Land of poverty, yarn bombers, abandoned buildings, and a thousand beautiful churches.
There seem to be more abandoned buildings in Baltimore than occupied ones. People linger in crowds on street corners and in alleys, boards nailed to the entryways of row houses, barbershops, and neglected historical buildings. Church doors are locked. In Baltimore, you see the effects of the recession in every direction. In Baltimore you see what apathy looks like. But you also see pride – and a firm resolve to love your home unconditionally, to stick by it even though your lack of resources prevent you from restoring it yourself.
Beanie Boo travels out of doors for the first time. Images captured with my new 50mm lens.
Beanie Boo traveled from a distant land in a big, brown crate to bring Christmas cheer to all in her new household. She journeyed out into the big world for the first time on Christmas day. First stop, the ledge by the door for a cautious look at her surroundings.
She saw blossoming bushes
and outstretched fronds.
She tentatively climbed a tree. At first she felt exultant, but then she realized she couldn’t get down by herself. A friendly passerby assisted her.
She journeyed on through the yard and happened upon tiny pine cones.
She saw acorns hanging from a twig high above the ground.
She stopped to rest by some gnarled vines
then chewed on the tall grasses.
What a wonderful adventure!
I haven’t been able to get out much lately. Between being poor, the weather looking like the above every other day, and Daniel being bogged down with schoolwork, we’ve been hesitant to get out there and enjoy the Virginia landscape. But I’m pleased to tell you that even our meager, rented backyard holds treasures: a pebble-encrusted walkway, a rotting pumpkin, mangled vines, and a bit of yellow in the neighbor’s yard.
When my sister was in town, I discussed with her how I’d really like to achieve a better bokeh effect by purchasing a 50mm lens. A photography major, she scolded me promptly, telling me that achieving a shallow depth of field had everything to do with knowing how to adjust manual settings, not with buying more equipment. Although I was a bit embarrassed by the chastisement, I knew she meant well. And she was right. Too many wannabe photographers (like myself) think better equipment will automatically equal a better photo. All the while, we fail to take advantage of all the specifications and adjustments our fancy-schmancy cameras already provide. I read up on dof, then tinkered around with my camera outside until it started to rain. I’m pleased with these first attempts at achieving shallow dof.
I leave you with this photograph of my favorite, naked tree.
The tree is up, adorned with an assortment of ornaments, old and new. Our most prized ones are from Ten Thousand Villages, a Mennonite-founded company that provides jobs to artisans around the world at a fair wage. The tree topper is 1970s Hallmark.
We’ve heard a lot about Carter Mountain during the last few months. The orchard opens to tourists when apples are ripe for harvesting in the early fall. Most apples have been picked by this time of year, but we thought we’d take the trip anyway (it’s only 10 minutes away from our house) since Andrea was in town.
The view was more extraordinary than I expected so close to home and we all had a lovely time walking through the orchard (but the hike back up to the parking lot was torturous). We collectively picked one apple as a souvenir. I still haven’t eaten it. It’s probably going bad!
We headed downtown with my sister yesterday evening to witness the annual downtown Christmas Tree Lighting. Since we arrived early, we stopped by the coffee shop to say hello and pick up an iced mocha and mini muffins.
The tree lighting was a bit anticlimactic, but the weather was mild (though a cold front blew in swiftly last night) and the sky was teal after the sun set. After the tree was lit, we got some dinner at The Whiskey Jar, then shopped around before heading home.
I didn’t manage to get a single clear picture of the lit tree, so the above will have to suffice.
Today is my sister’s last full day in town. We plan to buy a tree and make the house festive this evening. Christmas has been a letdown for me the past couple of years. I really want to invest time and energy in the season this year – I want to do things the right way and be thankful and warm and content.
Hello. I’ll be back to my regular blogging schedule next week (do I even have one of those?), when I’m weeping alone in my dark, basement house because all of my friends have gone back to Florida.
Andrea (and her husband, Mike) and my sister, Jennifer, are visiting this week. It’s glorious.
A new friend invited me to join her and a pal for a mid-morning walk on the Saunders-Monticello Trail yesterday. The trail was developed by the Thomas Jefferson Foundation in the late ’90s to provide a scenic route and recreational opportunities on the way to Monticello, Jefferson’s estate. The landscape showcases plant species native to Albemarle County and, with the late autumn sun shining through vast evergreens and fading orange leaves, looks like a luminous, fairytale land where sprites and elves cast spells and sing songs in the brush.
The three of us discussed some of my favorite topics – feminism, the church, politics, childhood – while walking briskly along the shaded trail. The weather was perfect. I had a wonderful time.
After we visited Luray Caverns, we drove further into the Shenandoah Valley. At one point, we stopped on the side of a winding mountain road to fill up jugs with spring water gurgling out of a pipe. We stopped at my father-in-law’s friend’s family’s campground to park our car, then carpooled over to Woodstock, his childhood home.
Woodstock is a tiny town with a nearly 360 degree view of mountains. We ate at one of the only privately owned restaurants in town, then traveled a short distance to the church Daniel’s grandfather pastored for several years. We explored the small cemetery in the back. I have always enjoyed the stillness of cemeteries. They put life in perspective and reveal the universality of living across centuries and places. Everyone dies. Everyone grieves.
The next part of our journey required our tour guide to drive up a narrow dirt road with corkscrew turns and no barriers to keep us from falling off the mountain. I was glad I didn’t have to navigate it myself. We saw hang gliders and parasailers at their takeoff site on our way up. We parked the car, then took a brief hike up to Woodstock Tower. A narrow steel structure, it used to serve as a fire tower, but was later opened to the public. It provides a panoramic view of Woodstock and its surrounding towns and landscapes. The cold air numbed our faces, but I didn’t mind.
There are few experiences that can transport me out of the daily – the anxieties, the anticipations, the expectations. Looking out from the Woodstock Tower stands out as a moment I’ll continually cling to for comfort. I felt peace and liberty there. I felt refreshed and acutely aware of my body, of myself. Shutting down my internal dialogue – muting the white noise – and experiencing silence within myself, I looked out, my skin reacted to the chill, I was happy, I was fully aware of that happiness, what it meant, and how long it’d been since I’d felt exactly that way.
I came back to Charlottesville with a brimming-over love for the place I live. I am proud to live here. I love this town and its majestic, natural surroundings.
Yesterday, Daniel and I met up with his dad and a friend for an epic day of natural grandeur perusing.
Our first stop was Luray Caverns. Discovered in 1878, the caverns are both extensive and ornate. At one time, air from the caverns was pumped into a sanitorium for patients with respiratory conditions, keeping the house at a cool 70 degrees in the middle of the summer. It was one of the first air conditioned buildings in the country.
Although I enjoyed the dim, cavernous, immensity of the entire tour, my favorite stop was at Dream Lake. Standing water reflects the ceiling, making the relatively small and shallow “lake” look deep and mysterious. The more you look down into the lake, the deeper it seems.
Luray Caverns is peculiar in that it holds the world’s only Stalacpipe Organ, which also happens to be the largest instrument in the world. Leland W. Sprinkle created the instrument over the course of 36 years, connecting a sound system and rubber mallets to various stalactites. When a key is pressed, wiring sends a signal to a mallet, which taps gently on the side of a stalactite. The sound is amplified through a speaker system and funneled into the Cathedral, one of the largest underground rooms. I never in my life thought I would have the opportunity to literally hear the earth sing. (In my research for this post, however, I see that the earth actually produces a bird like song called the dawn chorus, which the human ear can pick up – how marvelous!)
It reminded me of Jesus’ words to the Pharisees:
“I tell you, if [my disciples] were silent, the stones would shout out” (Luke 19:40)
and of the Psalmist’s words:
Praise the Lord from the earth, you sea monsters and all deeps,
fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind fulfilling his command!
Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! (Psalm 148:7)
Luray Caverns was just the beginning of a beautiful day. Next stop, Woodstock, VA.
Some days are so lovely you’re nearly brought to tears with happiness.
Yesterday was perfect. I went downtown early to avoid possible parking annoyances due to the free Bruce Springsteen concert. I had planned to read on a bench somewhere along the Downtown Mall, but as I walked along its stretch I remembered that there was a whole expanse of unexplored historical territory about a block over: parks, buildings built in the early 1800s, the old courthouse, and several imposing statues. I rambled up the hill into the cobblestone square and found a little park with a Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson statue and several inviting benches (isn’t it just so wonderful that we honor Confederate soldiers? hint: no).
Pardon me if the rest of my writing becomes incoherent. I’m trying to think past the hulkish rage-crying of the four year old in the apartment upstairs.
The weather warmed to a balmy 80 degrees by yesterday afternoon, but it was mild in the shade of fall-colored trees. I took a few pictures of the orange and red leaves to send to my loved ones in Florida. I began reading Half the Church on my kindle and when that became too overwhelming (it deals with incredibly weighty issues), I went over to the library to get a library card. I haven’t had one since high school, so it brought back all the joyful expectation the library held for me then.
The work day was satisfying – we got through the after-concert rush without any major hiccups. When I work the afternoon shift, I get to see the sun set on the way to my car. It’s always beautiful; I never get tired of looking up. As dusk settled in, the sky was streaked in turquoise and orange. So many days here are like this, I’m sure, but I hardly make the time to appreciate it.
Can you believe I get to see this every day?
Leah Wise 
