Eclipses and Other Portents

Later this morning, we'll go vote in the primary.  We don't live in Texas, so our primary isn't as interesting.  But it may have an impact on the Senate race in November.  

We'd vote regardless.  In North Carolina, we're registered as independents which means we can vote in either the Democratic primary or the Republican primary, but not both.  Two years ago, I voted in the Republican primary because I wanted Nikki Haley to win.  Today I'm voting in the Democratic primary because I want Roy Cooper, our former governor, to be the candidate in November. 

If we had voted early, we'd have done it at the public library.  Today we'll go to the local Lutheran church, the one where I go on Wednesdays to quilt when I'm not teaching.  I'm glad that the polling place is easy for me, even as I wonder how it came to be the polling place.  My younger self would have done some talking about separation of church and state.  My older self is happy to see church buildings used for the good of the community.

This morning's post will be shorter than usual, not because I'm headed off to vote, but because I'm going on an early morning walk.  I could wait; it's the one weekday where I don't need to be on the road to Spartanburg before 7:30.  But there's an eclipse happening, and although it's cloudy, I'll go out, just on the off chance that the clouds clear.

The moon will look red, and ancient people would have seen the blood moon as a portent.  With a war in the Middle East, we have no shortage of portents.  Still I will vote, and I will look at the sky, and I will hope to be amazed in a good way, not a horror-filled way.

No AWP For Me

Various social platforms (primarily Facebook for me) have begun to fill with writers posting their AWP schedules.  My grad school friend and I briefly thought about going.  After all, it's in Baltimore, within driving distance, which it rarely is.  We both have family in the area, although we would have stayed in the conference hotel.

I decided early that I couldn't do it this year.  Some years, AWP is the same year as spring break, when I'm working at places that have a spring break, and that confluence makes the whole thing easier.  Some years, AWP is nowhere near spring break, and that, too, makes the whole thing easier.

This year, AWP is right before my spring break in a March that is very busy even before adding a big conference.  So I decided not to go.

Some years I feel like I'm missing out, and now, it's been so many years since I attended that if I could get there, it might not feel like a repeat of past years in terms of what I learn/hear.  And now, I'm teaching a lot of creative writing courses, which has not been the case in the past.

Next year, I might see if I can get some travel money from Spartanburg Methodist College.  But this year, I'm glad not to be travelling this week.  The rest of March will have plenty of travel, lots of family reconnecting, and a quilt retreat near the end.  That's almost more than I can handle, so I'm glad not to be adding AWP on top of it all.

Being Born Again: Sermon Revisions in the Midst of News Reports

In later years, I may wonder why I'm not writing more about the events of yesterday:  bombs on Iran and Ayatollah Khamenei dead.  Maybe later readers will wonder why I didn't analyze Trump's decision to go ahead without consulting Congress or maybe they will have knowledge I don't.  I will say that U.S. presidents have been moving forward with war plans, asking for forgiveness rather than permission, for my whole life regardless of political persuasions.  

I didn't pay close attention to the news yesterday.  I was working on both taxes and my sermon.  I didn't even hear about the death of Khamenei until evening.  At the end of the day, I wrote this Facebook post:  "Doing some sermon revisions, thinking about Nicodemus who comes to Jesus, two men who likely see the world very differently but take the time to talk. I'm thinking about how Nicodemus is perplexed in the third chapter of John (tomorrow's reading) but by the end of the Gospel of John, he's buying an astonishing amount of burial spices for Jesus, a public declaration of Jesus' importance. I'm thinking and revising and flipping to news reports and my sermon seems even more relevant, about the necessity of talking and understanding and being born again for new possibilities in this life."

In a week of good time management, I have my sermon written before Saturday, and my spouse offers suggestions.  This week, I got my sermon draft done by Thursday, and I was proud of that.  Yesterday, as we were going over his notes, I realized that I had printed out not the sermon for today, but one for two years ago.

In a way, I was relieved.  The fact that the sermon was so unfamiliar just two days after I had written it had me worried before I checked the date on the sermon.  In a way, no harm done.  I made the discovery while my spouse still had time to read the correct sermon yesterday, and I had time to make the sermon stronger.  My spouse wasn't upset that he read two sermons this week.

And yet, it reminds me that although I may think I have all the parts of my life moving smoothly, there are some indications that it may be more tenuous than I want to think.  I thought of this again in the afternoon, as the phone rang, and I realized that the afternoon was later than I thought, and I hadn't called my parents, as we had arranged on Friday.  Again, no harm done, except . . .   I thought of this idea again as afternoon faded into dusk, as we looked in the recycling bin for the draft of the correct sermon with my spouse's notes on it.

It was a productive day, despite the mishaps.  I got the first draft of our taxes done, and now we have decisions to make about how to pay them.  Happily, we have the resources.  I got the finished draft of my sermon done.  Now let me get ready to preach and preside at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee--worship starts at 10 a.m., and all are welcome.

The First Fish Fry of the Season

Yesterday afternoon, I finished teaching, drove from Spartanburg to Arden, where I live, and then, after changing clothes, drove from Arden to Bristol, Tennessee, where I am a part-time minister at Faith Lutheran.  Last night was the first of four spring fish fry events.

People pay $10 for a wonderful plate of food:  fish (fried or baked), mac-and-cheese, pierogies and caramelized onions, cole slaw, green beans, rolls, and an amazing assortment of desserts and drinks.  I use the word amazing because I know how many members we have and how many desserts we offer, and that means people are making a lot of dessert.

All of the money goes to local charities, primarily the local ones that deal with hunger.  But people come for the food.  That's what I thought until last night.

We arrived at 4:45, and the event was supposed to start at 5.  When we got there, people were already there, waiting for food.  Many of the people who came were so excited to be there.  They love the food, but more than that, they love the chance to sit and reconnect with neighbors from across the community (and a few of them are reconnecting with literal neighbors).

We had a steady stream of people coming and going, with almost every place in the smallish fellowship hall occupied for the first 80 minutes of the event.  We ran out of cole slaw, but we didn't run out of desserts.  

I thought about how past Kristin would have viewed this event.  She would have wondered why we were having this event, when so many people who come already have a church home.  She would have looked at the amazing amount of work that it takes to put on this event, and she would have suggested that we donate a chunk of money instead of buying the food and cooking it and selling plates.

But current Kristin has a glimmer of a different way of thinking about this.  People are hungry for community.  They want to have a chance to reconnect with people who live in the same geographical area.  They care less about people's religious or political beliefs.

I realize that what I observed last night may be more true in small towns than in big urban centers.  But I suspect that even in the big cities, people are longing for the kind of connection that a fish fry event can give them.

Of Lab Results and Lectures

I didn't write yesterday because I got good lab results and wanted to process a bit in my offline journal--and then it was time for Lutheran Confessions class.  Let me record some thoughts here:

--My lab results show that almost all of my numbers are in a good range.  It's my vitamin D that is a bit low, which is an easy fix.  The results that make me most happy are my liver numbers, which had been drifting up.  I have been very focused in the last year on reducing alcohol intake, and for the last 8 weeks, since Jan. 2, I have had no alcohol.  And this blood work has my liver numbers back down, back in the healthy range.  I am entering the time of life where it seems that no one is getting good medical news, so let me be happy while I can be.

--My Lutheran Confessions class continues to be great.  I am so impressed with how my professor can talk about the Reformation for hours, making it interesting, apparently without much in the way of notes.  There's a PowerPoint, but he's amazing at using the PowerPoint as it should be, as a scaffolding, not as a document to be read out loud in class.

--As I was talking about my professor's skills with my spouse, we reminded ourselves that we have specialties too.  I could talk at great length about any number of poems or short stories, about several periods of literature, particularly British Literature of the Romantic and early Victorian period, and the Modernist time between the two world wars.

--I was sad about the passing of Jeff Galloway, who was a fierce advocate for less fierce running.  He's most famous for advising runners to take walking breaks.  He was also part of the group of runners in the 70's and 80's who went for Long, Slow Distance.  These are ideas that shaped me, that I return to again and again, the idea of meeting your body where you are right now, and that less hard exercise can actually be better.

--I had an idea for my 102 class, which I'll post below.  It took much less class time than I thought, but I decided I was O.K. with that.  I'll also use the assignment as one of the possibilities for Revised Writing 3--the in-class experience can be useful in several ways, so I'm happy about that.

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Making a Modern Case: The Characters from “Antigone”


In our current day, we have a variety of ways of getting information/viewpoints out to larger groups: a State of the Union address or other speeches, a news program interview, a Tik Tok video or other types of social media, a talk show, a podcast, a trial, a creative work (a song, a book, a television show).


In your small group, think about the characters in the play “Antigone” who have a point of view. If the play happened today, what would be the best way of making a case that each character was right and others were wrong.


Choose one character from the list below and choose one way of making a case for that character’s view. Create something that you will present to the class. We don’t have a lot of time, so it won’t be fully formed. You might decide to tell us what you would have created if you had time.


Antigone

Ismene (her sister)

King Creon

Haemon (Creon’s son and Antigone’s fiancé)

The people ruled by Creon

What We Watched When We Didn't Watch the State of the Union Address

Last night, I wrote this Facebook post:  "In my younger days, I wanted to be a reporter. In my older days, I am so grateful to have a job where I don't need to stay up for the State of the Union address, although when I teach "Antigone" tomorrow, I may wish that I could make more specific references to the speech. Nah, it's probably better to keep that class conversation more general: what do we do when our moral/religious beliefs are in conflict with what our earthly rulers want us to do?"

I didn't need to make a conscious choice.  By 9 p.m., when the pageant started, I was already asleep.  Instead of watching the State of the Union address, we watched A Fish Called Wanda.  We had seen it before, in the theatre when it first came out, and then again, we likely rented it once more on a VHS tape.  I remember it as being hilarious, and a lot of that hilarity is still there.  

However these days, I don't always gravitate to slapstick comedy, the physical kind of comedy.  In my older age, I don't always warm to the hilarity of "Oh my goodness, we were about to have sex, and my wife has come home so I need to explain things while the pretty young thing is hiding in the room" kind of plot twist.  Having one of the criminals have a severe stutter led to moments of meanness that were very cringe-y these days.

But the acting was good, and the timing was superb, and Jamie Lee Curtis is such a delight in everything she does as are the Monty Python folks as is Kevin Kline that it was a pleasant way to spend time after dinner and before bed.  It's strange to think about our viewing habits have changed.  We no longer view network TV at all, in parts because we don't have cable and our antenna reception is so bad.  Once we would have done all of our movie viewing during the week-ends, and it would have required advance planning or having purchased the movie, which we likely wouldn't have done in our impoverished grad school days.

This morning, my brain returned to the State of the Union address and my Facebook post.  I also thought about my department chair asking me if I had ever taught a journalism class.  I wrote about it in this blog post:  "Before she assigned me the Journalism class, my department chair reached out to me by way of e-mail to see if I'd be open to teaching it. Here's what I wrote back: "I am open to that, although I haven't taught it. But long ago, in my Newberry College undergrad days, I was an essential part of the student newspaper. We went looking for hot stories, a la Woodward and Bernstein. We never found them, but we had fun just the same."

This morning, I've been trying to write a poem that combines threads of my Facebook post and threads from my blog post.  I still need a third stanza, so I'll let my subconscious brain keep working on it while I get ready for my working-for-pay day, the teaching of "Antigone."

States of Union, States of Disunion

Soon I leave to go to the doctor's office for my annual physical exam.  Let me record a few thoughts.

--I'm thinking about what has changed since my last doctor's appointment.  I've had my first colonoscopy, which I've been trying to schedule for years, literally years.  Finally, last year, my doctor referred me to another doctor who both does colonoscopies and surgeries.  I've gotten hearing aids.  But the bigger news is my first melanoma.

--Five years ago Russian invaded Ukraine.  It seems important to note this fact.

--The State of the Union speech is tonight.  I wasn't planning to watch it anyway--past my bedtime.  But once the president said that it was going to be "very long," well, that sealed the deal.

--Yesterday as I was driving to work, I was wishing I had made a different schedule for my 101 class, so that we didn't start a new module the week before Spring Break.  When I got to the office, I created that different schedule.  There are times that it is great to be the teacher, wonderful to be the one in charge.

--There are many reasons why I love my teaching job at Spartanburg Methodist College:  schedule flexibility and getting to talk about literature I love being among the top.  But not having to stay up to watch the State of the Union speech is another one.

Finally Seeing "Frankenstein"

Yesterday, after an afternoon of cooking and baking, we settled in to watch the newest version of Frankenstein, the Guillermo del Toro version.  We didn't have Netflix at the time it came out, and we may not have it much longer, because it keeps making us enter information that the platform already has.

I was excited when it first came out.  I thought it would be more faithful to the book.  I was wrong.

I'm not one of those annoying English majors who believes that the movie adaptation must stay faithful to the book.  I realize that decisions must be made for the sake of brevity or art or any number of other reasons.  But I do wish that those decisions made sense.  This movie had decisions that did not make sense to me.

I read about the change of Elizabeth to be less of a love interest.  But frankly, she's such a minor character in the film that I didn't understand the change.  The ending, where Victor apologizes to the creature, was such a different ending, which does such violence to the text.  By then, I was barely able to watch the movie, which would be ending in a few minutes, because of those kinds of changes.

My spouse was more puzzled by the ways the plot parts made no sense, particularly the creature's ability to heal when hurt and the fact that he could not die.

In places, the movie was gorgeous; there is that going for it.  During the first part of the film, I was intrigued by the intellectual part of the movie, but once I saw how Victor treated the creature, and realized it was going to continue, I found it a tough watch.

I'm glad I watched it for many reasons.  I appreciate del Toro's enthusiasm, for one.  And if I do teach the text again, I'll want to have seen it.

I do not feel the same about the current adaptation of Wuthering Heights.  I don't have that kind of time to spend on that movie.

Snow in the Higher Elevations and a Week-end Update

On most Sundays, I'd be on my way to Bristol, Tennessee where I serve as a Synod Appointed Minister at Faith Lutheran.  This morning, I'll be staying home.  There's no snow or dangerous travel conditions here, and there's just a bit of snow in Bristol right now.  But there are winter weather advisories and warnings for the higher elevations which is where I have to travel to get from my house to Bristol, so I decided to take a cautious approach and not attempt the trip.  We could make it safely over, probably, but by the time we came back this afternoon, we might have travel troubles.

Even after making this decision yesterday, I still find myself checking the weather.  My spouse asked why I feel guilty still, and I've been thinking about this as I check the weather.  I finally realized that I don't feel guilty, but if the winter weather holds off or doesn't materialize at all, I'll feel stupid.  Of course, I wouldn't have to feel stupid if I just quit checking the weather on the mountaintop.

I have realized that I am not good at making a decision and being done with it--not for big things, and not for little things.  Even as I realize this truth about myself, I still continue to second guess myself.  I'm trying to use meditation practices:  I don't berate myself for the second guessing, but I recognize the behavior and try to turn my attention back to more important tasks.

Let me remember some of the delightful aspects of the week-end.

--On Friday night, we had dinner with two family members from my mom's generation who traveled through town on their way to Oak Ridge to celebrate another family member's 90th birthday.  These two women have been instrumental in showing me that there are lots of ways to live a happy life.  One of them was the first vegetarian I ever met, and the other one adopted a baby much later in life than is usual.

--We ate at Farm Burger, which I always thought was an upscale McDonalds (Chipotle vs. Taco Bell). Indeed, it was more upscale than McDonald's.  But it sources its meat from local farms and seems to be committed to sustainability.  In addition to beef burgers, the restaurant had a vegetarian burger made from sweet potatoes and several salad options.  We were there at 6:30, and I was so grateful that it wasn't overly crowded.

--After dinner, we came back to our house for dessert.  I had made a lemon loaf cake, and since I didn't know people's current dietary situations, I came up with a lot of separate options that could be combined according to need and taste:  strawberries, blueberries, sorbet, vanilla ice cream, and whipped cream.  It was perfect, and it was great to have a quieter place to continue our conversation.

--I also liked that they liked the house and saw the same possibilities for this small, mountain house that we do.  The cold winter weather has left my spouse in a sea of despair, and it was good to have enthusiasm in the house.

--Yesterday morning I connected with some members of my Florida church by way of Zoom.  We've been meeting regularly for fellowship and Bible study for years, even as many of us moved.  It is SO wonderful that technology allows us to do this.

--Yesterday afternoon I did my volunteer service by staffing the Lutheridge camp store.  It's one of the handbell week-ends, so most people came right after lunch.  There was a bit of a back up at the register, but everyone was gracious and beyond.  They thanked me for being there.

--They may have thanked me because I thanked them for their patience with a woman who was only doing this for the second time.  One woman said, "Didn't they give you any training?"  I said, "Yes, but it was back in November."  I have no shame about reminding them--I didn't want praise for volunteering, but I wanted to be sure that they realized that Lutheridge didn't employ a person who wasn't very good at finding the more obscure items in the system and caused a line at the check out register.

--I took my laptop because I thought there would be down time, and I was right.  I was able to revise my sermon, and because I could get the Lutheridge wi-fi signal, I completed required cybersecurity training for the school where I do my online teaching.  It was one of several to-do tasks hanging over my head.

Since we will be here today, let me head to the grocery store to get some provisions.  We often don't cook much on Sundays, since we usually aren't home for much of Sunday.

Debates and Structured Class Conversations: The "Goblin Market" Edition

We've had a great week in my English 102 classes.  We've been discussing "Goblin Market," but in a slightly different way.  Before we started, I went over a variety of possible interpretations, and then I gave them a chart.  I said that as we went through the poem, they'd fill in the chart with specific information to support an 3 possible interpretations of the poem:  gender relationships (which would include the lesbian interpretation of the poem), spiritual/religious, and economic.

We went through the poem, with me reading parts of it and pointing out which parts would go in the chart.  Often I had to say, "You should be writing this down."  At the end, I had them write a paragraph that told which interpretation was the one that made the most sense to them, and that paragraph needed quotes from the poem.

So far, so good--we've analyzed the poem, we've made notes (and perhaps learned how to take notes), and we've written some analysis that used quotes from the poem to support the analysis.  In the past, I would have stopped here and spent some time wishing that students would talk more, that we could have more of a conversation, less of a lecture.

This time, on the last day, I got to class early and put 8 half pages of paper on the walls around the room.  On each page, I had a possible interpretation of the poem:  male-female relationships/love/sex, lesbian male-female relationships/love/sex, drug addiction, religious/spiritual/good vs. evil, prostitution, economics, it's just a fairy tale, sisterhood (which could be in the feminist sense or the sibling sense).  I had students leave everything on their desks and circulate around the room, standing at the page of paper that had the interpretation that they most supported.

We did some shuffling so that no one was on a one person team.  I gave them 10-15 minutes to prepare an informal presentation about their interpretation, including page numbers.  They could use the chart they created and the daily writings about the poem and any other notes.  We would listen for holes in the argument, but it wouldn't be the kind of intense debate they might have seen in times of elections or by high school debate clubs.

It became clear that the happy ending was going to be a hole in the argument for almost every position, so each team addressed the happy ending in a separate presentation.  I was pleased to hear great conversations as the teams prepared their presentations--and not only great conversations, but lots of flipping back and forth in the book as they looked for ways to support their ideas.  They brought in the kind of information that 19th century readers of the poem wouldn't have had, like addiction and recovery methods, and they used sexual lenses for interpretation that previous generations wouldn't have had, using ideas like hook up culture and closeted relationships.

In one class, two students arrived very late, just when we were getting ready to do the presentations.  So I made them judges.  They took careful notes and gave great feedback (positive and enthusiastic) to each team.

In each class, some students stayed after the end, both to talk to each other and to talk to me.  There was an enthusiasm for the poem that might not have been there had we not been in small groups.

I'm not a small group person overall, but I'm trying to overcome my aversion to it.  I'm trying to see it as a different way of having in-class conversation.  In fact, I'm wondering if we shouldn't have some sort of small group exercise as part of every module.

Poetry Inspirations: First Troy, Second Troy, Invasion Anniversaries

We have reached the time of the semester when I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about all I have agreed to do, all of my various obligations.  I know that I will get it all done.  I always do, and in past semesters, I've had even more on my plate.

I feel something shifting in me, something that says that maybe I should start saying no to more things.  Or maybe I just need a better calendar system so that I have a better sense of what I'm saying yes to--or maybe I need to get in the habit of saying, "I'll get back to you on this request when I've checked my calendar."

I am feeling that grouchiness that comes when I have papers to grade and I feel my poet self hollowing out.  I've been feeling uninspired.

Happily, I keep a blog.  Yesterday I went back to February of 2022, not looking for inspiration, but trying to remember the exact date when Putin invaded Ukraine (it was Feb. 24).  I found this post which answered my question and led me to the second blog post which inspired a poem yesterday morning.  It was this insight specifically:  "I am a middle-aged woman with arthritic feet and limited ability with weapons. I am not going to be the freedom fighter/spy who defeats Vladimir Putin; I do not have that level of skill or beauty."

Here's the first stanza of what is still a rough draft:

"I will not be the woman
who wins this war.
I have no skill with weapons.
I cannot kill the bloodthirsty dictator
after I seduce him,
I was never that kind of beauty.
No ships will burn
because of me,
no second Troy."

I felt inordinately proud of that last line of the first stanza, that allusion to the Yeats poem.  Does it work?  Is it too much?  I don't know yet.

I'm just happy to find that my poetry brain is still working in the background, as I make my way through each day's tasks.

The Morning after the Ash Wednesday Before

I took a selfie this morning that captures my post-Ash Wednesday morning situation:

There are the ashes from last night, still on my forehead, and because my lipstick that remained from last night was blotchy, I did give my lipstick a freshening.  There's the alb on the sofa because I need to wash it to make sure that the ashes from last night come out (pre-treated, not too worried).  There's the book for my Lutheran Foundations class that I'll attend by way of Zoom in half an hour.  There's the labyrinth lap blanket that my home congregation in Florida gifted us when we moved to North Carolina.

Ordinarily I'd be in Spartanburg by now, getting ready to be on Zoom in my office.  I have structured my classes so that on some weeks, I have conferences, and I can get a later start.  I knew that this morning would be a time I'd be happy to have given myself this break, and I am.

Instead of getting ready and being on the road by 7 a.m. this morning, I got to go on a walk and hear birdsong.  I was struck by how long it's been.  I've been walking, but not at times of the day when lots of birds are singing, the way they are at sunrise.

Yesterday was not a day with much downtime.  Often I thought of the Paul Simon lyric from "One Trick Pony":  "all of these extra moves I make, and all this herky-jerky motion, and the bag of tricks it takes to get me through my working day."

But I do feel very fortunate in that all the aspects of my working life feed both my brain and my soul--it has not always been this way.

Trolls in the Forest

Yesterday we went to see the trolls at the local arboretum:

I couldn't resist posing with the above troll:

If I was captioning this picture, I'd say this:  "You'd think a woman who spent the last week teaching Christina Rossetti's 'Goblin Market' would be more cautious about strange creatures in the forest."

I'd been hearing about this exhibit since it first arrived back in November, but I never heard that it had a closing date until last week.  The weather last week was far from perfect:  chilly and windy, which made it feel even chillier.  We thought about Saturday, but decided that there would be crowds.  So we went yesterday, the last day of the exhibit.

It was more crowded than I expected, but it was manageable.  Every troll had a small crowd around it, but we were all respectful of the fact that everyone wanted a chance to take a picture.

I was impressed by the variety of ways to get to the trolls.  Some of them were along paths in the woods, which were less accessible to anyone with mobility issues.  But half the trolls were in the garden area along paved walkways.

It was a delightful adventure, and I wish we'd had more time and warmer weather.  In short, I wish I had gone earlier.  But I'm glad to have had the opportunity and happy that my walk in the woods was in search of trolls.

Tuesday Scraps: Texting Mix-ups and Passings and Other Goblins

Yesterday, I was surprised to discover that I hadn't written a morning post for this blog.  On Sunday, I also didn't write a morning post, but that's normal for a Sunday where we leave for Bristol at 7 a.m.  So let me collect some bits and pieces here:

--If you came here looking for a Shrove Tuesday/Mardi Gras post, head over to this post on my theology blog.

--I have been looking at rough drafts, as I've been doing when I don't have a new poem bubbling up.  I am surprised by how many poems came from the bushel of apples I bought in October.  In the future, when I deliberate the wisdom of buying apples in bulk, let me remember how many ways those apples fed me.

--When I heard about the death of Robert Duvall yesterday, I was surprised.  I thought he had already died.  As I've read about his career, again, I was surprised.  I didn't realize he got his start by playing Boo Radley in Too Kill a Mockingbird; I didn't realize he was in the film.  My favorite role of his will always be Gus in Lonesome Dove, but I admire so many others too.  In the past year, we watched Tender Mercies, and wow, what an amazing performance.  The variety of what he was able to do/create/convey across his career is what impresses me most. 

--This morning comes the news of Jesse Jackson's death.  I voted for him in the South Carolina primary in 1988.  It felt like we were on the cusp of something amazing, and that feeling has come and gone several times since.  I would love to feel that feeling again, like we're on the cusp of something amazing which is good, not that dread that we're on the cusp of something amazing that is a threat to our existence.

--I noticed that the daffodil which was about to bloom in the early January warmth did not die in the ice and snow of later weeks--and now, it's in full bloom with a few friends.  It seems like a metaphor, and  it is, but I don't know that I can do anything new with it.

--I have been having SUCH a GREAT time teaching Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market"--what a perfect poem for teaching (and reading).

--I've been having trouble finding a space in my schedule for a daily walk--it's part scheduling, part the weather which makes me want to stay inside.  Yesterday I took a pair of socks and sneakers to the office, and at 11:00, I set out for a walk around campus.  This solution won't work every MWF, but for the next few weeks, I'll keep the shoes and socks in my office and try to get more walking in during the day.

--Yesterday, my spouse and I had a texting mix-up.  I asked if he had made it to the grocery store to pick up the wine we were bringing to a neighborhood gathering.  He texted back "No but u can."  He meant to text "No but I can."  I texted back, and fumed all the way home.  Happily, the mix up was resolved, but it was easy to see how it could have blown up in all sorts of ways.  Easy and scary.

Writing Life, Olympian Life

If you came here hoping for a Valentine's Day post, head over to my theology blog to read this post.  Last night I made a quick grocery store trip and was flabbergasted by how many armloads of flowers were at every end cap.  Valentine's Day has never been my favorite holiday, at least not how it's actually practiced.

If you came here hoping for an Olympics post, I have nothing for you.  I am not watching the Olympics being broadcast now; winter sports have rarely held my attention.  I've been more interested in summer Olympic games in the past, but in 2 years, will I watch?  I have no idea.  I remember being enthralled by the 1980 Winter Olympics, but that was because one of my best friends was breathless about it all.  I remember following the progress of the U.S. hockey team in the 1980's, me and the rest of the world.  In 1980, I was also fascinated by speed skating, but I've never been interested in figure skating--or in gymnastics, which seems an equivalent in the summer Olympics.

Yesterday I was thinking about how being an athlete is unlike being a writer.  I watch the Olympics, and I have no illusions that I will ever be at that level, and worse--the window for that level of skill is tied to youth.  With writing, I can continue to improve.

I thought about this off and on throughout the week, as I have walked from my office to my classrooms and observed clusters of students who are talking about their creative writing.  I don't think these projects are for a class.  I think they're just students who like to write and have found each other.  I love the building where most humanities classes are taught.  It was built 15 years ago, so it's a very different building than any other building where I've taught.  There's more natural light, for one thing, and less decay.  The common area has spaces for informal gathering/studying, spaces that look like a small living room, spaces that look like a kitchen table, and two tables of barstool height, with higher chairs.  There's a charging station beside one of them, and plenty of plugs throughout the common space.  There are some backless couches that look like waves outside of each classroom.

Some of the students hang out as they wait for classes to start, but other students hang out all day.  As I overhear conversations, I feel inordinately happy.  There's the creative writing discussions and the students helping each other in a variety of classes.  There are students scrolling through their phones, and others staring at laptops, but more often than not, they're interacting.

As I walk back and forth, I sometimes feel wistful, sometimes nostalgic, sometimes sad about how long ago my own undergrad days have become.  I can also be prone to the sadness of feeling like I haven't lived up to my potential.    Yesterday I laughed at myself a bit--I can still keep working on writing projects, and I can keep doing it deep into old age, barring some kind of injury.  In terms of athletic prowess, I'm not going to be skiing ever again; fear of breaking a bone is just too much of a deterrent.

Happily, I'm fine with that.  I didn't like skiing when I did it in my younger years, so no great loss.  Aging must be much more difficult if what brings one joy is not something one can do with an aging body.

A Typical Thursday, a Good Thursday: Seminary in the Morning, Teaching in the Afternoon

Yesterday was a whiplash inducing kind of day, but not in a bad way:  I left the house early to get to my office to be ready for the Lutheran Foundations class that I'm taking at United Lutheran Seminary by way of Zoom, I attended class, and then I took care of the teaching responsibilities that take much of my weekday life.  

The class was surprisingly interesting.  I say "surprisingly," because it was about the creeds; discussing the creeds is not why I wanted to go to seminary.  But it was a good way to spend part of the morning, as I wrote about in this post on my theology blog. 

One of my former students reached out to me to see if she could interview me.  There's a class that's requiring students to interview someone working in a field that interests them, and she's interested in teaching.  In a closing essay for the Creative Writing class that she took with me, she said that I had inspired her to think about teaching as a career, and she's still thinking about it.  It was a great conversation.

I had a similar conversation a few weeks ago with a student who was interested in how one has a writing career.  It, too, was a great conversation, although I felt I had less to offer.  But through the course of the conversation, I was reminded that I'm perhaps more successful than I might think.  And frankly, just continuing to write is a success.

My classes went well--great poem creating in my Creative Writing class, good discussion of "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" in my English 102 class.  I did return home feeling very tired.

Happily, I was able to take it easy.  We are watching The Good Place, after delighting in A Man on the Inside.  Yes, we are often late to these things.  I remember watching an early episode of The Good Place and not tuning in again.  The people seemed odious in a way that they don't now, if I watch more than one episode at a time.  I did a bit of sewing, which also helped me feel settled at the end of the day.

I was hoping to have a sermon written at the end of my morning writing time, but alas.  I've got a page and a half, and I'm at the point in the sermon writing process where I feel blah about it.  Happily there is still time.

But first, let me attend to my Friday teaching responsibilities.

Using the Story of the Wise Men to Teach Allusion

At the beginning of the term, I didn't know that I was going to use the story of the wise men in the Gospel of Matthew so frequently.  In this blog post, I've written about my use of the text of Matthew, which include translations, Biblical storytelling, and poems rooted in the text.  I plan to do something similar with my Advanced Creative Writing class today.

Tuesday I created something new for the class, something I didn't use in my English 102 class (although I might in the future).  We talked about the use of allusion, how it can work, and how it likely won't.   For example, if I name a character Herod, that's a name that comes with serious baggage, and I need to make sure that's what I want.  I talked about the passage in Matthew 2:18 that they might see in discussions of genocide in the Middle East, about a voice is heard in Rameh, Rachel weeping.

I gave them the following exercise as a way of thinking about allusion.  It provided some interesting pre-writing, and it was a good way of talking about allusion.

----

For today’s Daily Writing, you don’t have to actually write the story, although you can. What I want is a description of characters and plot for a story that you might write.


But here’s the twist: you must include at least one item from each of the three lists as part of the story you would create.


List 1: Plot

--a journey to a different land

--noticing something different in the sky

--a person in charge without the best intentions

--information delivered in a dream

--travelers show up unannounced

--sudden departures


List 2: Symbol


--a distant star

--gold, frankincense, and/or myrrh

--scholars who study the sky

--prophecy

--murder of children


List 3: Assorted


--scholars from a distant land

--weeping women

--prophecy fulfilled or otherwise

--people who are left out of the story who want a chance to have their say

South Florida Friend, Gone Too Soon

I had the kind of Tuesday afternoon where I did not have a scrap of extra time, between teaching my two classes, getting handouts ready for Wednesday classes, and commuting back to my house in the mountains.  I'm glad that I didn't have time to do internet wandering, so that the bad news could come later in the day, when I could sit and digest it.

I got home to discover that a good friend in South Florida, Stacy Wolfe, had died unexpectedly on Thursday.  She was only 58, and I don't have details about the cause of death.  Her spouse posted on Facebook that she "passed away unexpectedly" which could mean so many things.  I realize that the cause of death really doesn't matter--that's just me, wanting to tell myself that it was a freak occurrence, when the reality is that death is coming for us all and often much too soon.

I met Stacy when I joined the faculty of The Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale back in 2002.  All of the non-technical faculty shared an office space of cubicles, which was not as grim as it sounds.  She taught a variety of science classes, and I was impressed with how she made the subject come alive for students.  She always organized at least one snorkeling trip per quarter for students, and I was in awe of her ability to coordinate these field trips.

We were also neighborhood friends, eventually moving to the same square mile in the historic district of Hollywood, FL.  It would not have occurred to me that we could afford the house we bought if it hadn't been for other people with similar incomes in our friend group who were doing it.  

We often went for a morning walk, although it could be hard to coordinate walking with our two schedules.  During the pandemic, when our lives changed radically, she and I went for a pre-dawn walk several times a week.  We shared our knowledge about what was happening and what was likely to happen.

We socialized in a variety of settings with a variety of people:  neighbors, scientists, and colleagues from work (and former colleagues, as we started to find other jobs as the robber barons who bought the school started to strip the school and lay off everyone in orchestrated waves).  She was a great dive buddy, always calm and can-do and unfailingly kind.

Those qualities also made her a great friend, one who will be missed by many people, including me.

 

Teaching from the Buddhist Monks Who Are Walking for Peace

 Like many, I've been moved by the Buddhist monks who are walking from Texas to D.C. for peace.  I even talked about them in a sermon in early January, as something giving me hope.

Today they'll be at the National Cathedral, and I'm not sure of their time in D.C. beyond that.  It's hard for me to imagine any officials from the federal government meeting with them, the way that state governing people along the way have, but I'm willing to be happily surprised.

In this post on Diana Butler Bass's Substack, she gives the monks' answer to why they are walking.  I want to make sure I have this, should I want to find the words later, so let me post them here:

"Some people may doubt that our walk can bring peace to the world — and we understand that doubt completely. But everything that has ever mattered began with something impossibly small. A single seed. A first mindful breath. A quiet decision to take one step, then another.

Our walking itself cannot create peace. But when someone encounters us — whether by the roadside, online, or through a friend — when our message touches something deep within them, when it awakens the peace that has always lived quietly in their own heart — something sacred begins to unfold.

That person carries something forward they didn’t have before, or perhaps something they had forgotten was there. They become more mindful in their daily life — more present with each breath, more aware of each moment. They speak a little more gently to their child. They listen more patiently to their partner. They extend kindness to a stranger who needed it desperately.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

And that stranger, touched by unexpected compassion, carries it forward to someone else. And it continues — ripple by ripple, heart by heart, moment by moment — spreading outward in ways none of us will ever fully witness, creating more peace in the world than we could possibly measure.

This is our contribution — not to force peace upon the world, but to help nurture it, one awakened heart at a time. Not the Walk for Peace alone can do this, but all of us together — everyone who has been walking with us in spirit, everyone who feels something stir within them when they encounter this journey, everyone who decides that cultivating peace within themselves matters.

One step becomes two. Two become a thousand. A thousand become countless. And slowly, gently, persistently — not through grand gestures but through ten thousand small acts of love — we can help make the world more peaceful.

This is our hope. This is our offering. This is why we walk.

May you and all beings be well, happy, and at peace."

First In-Person Monday of Spring Term

This morning, instead of my usual morning ritual of frittering away gobs of time by internet wandering, I got right to work on my first paper for my Lutheran Foundations class that's due on Thursday morning before the class meets.  It's not a complex paper, only 750 words, but I need to submit it on Wednesday, since I don't have much time on Thursday mornings.

And now, I have a rough draft--hurrah!

I feel similarly about this paper as I felt about the short Luther paper that I wrote for my Church History class in February of 2023.  I remember feeling pleased with the paper on Luther and sacraments, but I wasn't sure it was what my professor had in mind.  Happily, in 2023, the paper was what my professor wanted.  Hopefully that will be the case here too.

Soon I will head down the mountain to Spartanburg Methodist College.  It's the first Monday that I'll be on campus since November.  For spring term, classes started on Tuesday and then we had the following Monday off for the MLK holiday.  The past two Mondays have been snow days.  And now, here we are. 

Of course, I've been meeting those classes in person on Wednesdays and Fridays, so it hasn't been like I haven't seen those students.  But it still seems worth noting.  A colleague at SMC tells me that in all his years at the school, over 35 years, they've never had as many snow days as they've had this year.  I believe it.

I predict that this kind of weather is going to be the norm as we continue moving through the 21st century--not the snow itself, but the fact that past performance will NOT be a predictor of future performance.

Let me get myself in gear.  This Monday won't teach itself.

Sermons, for Youth and for Adults

This morning, in addition to finishing the revisions to my sermon (posted here on my theology blog) on Matthew 5:  13-20, I made a big bowl of popcorn.  I left some of it unsalted and put it in sandwich bags.  I salted the rest and made more bags of popcorn.  

I'm not crazy about all the sandwich bags, but it's the easiest way for me to do my youth sermon on salt without getting popcorn all over the place, the way we would if I just passed around two big bowls.  Plus it minimizes germ spreading--no hands in the same bowl of popcorn.

As I divided the popcorn, I thought about seminary, about my Foundations of Preaching class.  In that class, we had a lot to do in a very short time, so I don't fault the professor for not talking about children's sermons much.  I'm glad that I'm old enough to have seen plenty of examples of both good and bad children's sermons through the years.

We haven't been together in the physical space as a congregation since January 18--what a winter it has been, and we may get wintry weather next week-end too.  I'm glad that today's sermons (both the youth and the adult variety) feel solid.

Winter Weather and Writing Prompts

I am happy to report that my car now has a new windshield wiper motor.  It cost a pretty penny, almost $1,000 to get the part and have it installed, but it's far cheaper than buying a replacement car.  So far, in the past two months, I've spent a lot on this car, but it's still far less than buying a replacement car.

Yesterday I headed down the mountain in the newer car, the Nissan Rogue, the car we bought when the December flood of 2019 destroyed the other Prius that we once had.  When I got up in the morning, there was a dusting of snow and nothing falling through the air.  By the time I left, the driveway and neighborhood road were covered, and there was a lot of snow blowing through the air.  There were moments when I wondered if I had made a mistake, but the interstate seemed clear of snow and ice, and I decided that I was safer continuing on to school and heading home later in the day.

Much to my surprise, later in the morning it was also snowing in Spartanburg, snow that wasn't in the forecast.  It was the best kind of snow, big flakes, but nothing sticking.

Before yesterday, I had planned a snow/winter weather theme for my Advanced Creative Writing class, and having snow drifting by the window was the perfect touch.  On Tuesday, I read Dave Bonta's Poetry Blog Digest, on his Via Negativa site, as I do most Tuesdays.  He linked to this post by Kristy Bowen, which concluded with ten wonderful poetry prompts for winter.  They're the best kind of prompts, the kind that work not only for poetry but for all kinds of creative thought.

I put each prompt on a slip of paper and had them put the slips of paper face down on their desks.  Every five minutes, they turned over another slip and wrote for five minutes.  At the end of five minutes, they could keep going, or they could turn over a new slip.  

They were all writing on laptops, which was fine with me, although I did realize that I had no way of knowing if they were really working on prompts.  But from observing them, they did seem engaged, and they did turn over slips.  At the end of the process, I had them select one line from their writing and put it on a blank slip--and then I read all the slips as one poem, an interesting experiment.

I did a variation of the writing too, although since I was the timekeeper, I couldn't lose myself in my writing the way I might have.  I did come up with some interesting lines that I hope to continue to work into a unified poem. 

By the time I got on the road to drive home, the sun was shining, and while it wasn't warm, I wasn't afraid that the roads would freeze--it's the best kind of winter weather, the kind that doesn't disrupt but does inspire.

Broken Wiper Motor, Broken Newspaper

Yesterday was a very strange day.  I headed down the mountain to Spartanburg Methodist College, reflecting on the fact that we have yet to have a full week of class meetings this semester.  The gas station a mile from campus had gas for $2.39 a gallon, far cheaper than gas in North Carolina; I amuse myself by keeping track of these differences as I drive between North Carolina and South Carolina and Tennessee each week.

As I drove away from the gas station and waited at the traffic light, I decided to try using the windshield wipers.  They swiped up and stayed there.  Hmm.  I had hopes that it might be an easy fix, turning the car off and on, so I tried it once I got parked at campus.  Nope.  My spouse had hopes that it was a matter of waiting for possibly frozen stuff to thaw, so I a few hours later, I trooped back to the car and tried the wipers again.  Nope.

I decided to hope that the rain in the forecast wouldn't be falling when I drove home, and happily, I caught a break there.  I drove back to Arden, straight to my mechanic, with a windshield that was grimy (lots of snow melt droplets from the road) but navigable.

It was no surprise to learn that I do need a new motor for the windshield wipers.  What was a surprise is that it's hard to find.  My mechanic said, "That's one of the problems with these older cars."  I would have thought a windshield wiper motor was fairly standard, and my car is only 12 years old, a 2014 Prius C.

Earlier in the day, I said that I hoped the motor wouldn't cost thousands of dollars, as recent car repairs have cost me.  But I didn't anticipate that I wouldn't be able to find a motor at all.  And it's possible that the Toyota dealership will be able to supply what the car needs, that the mechanic was just explaining why it took hours for him to call me with a progress report, and perhaps preparing me for the cost to come.

It was also a day where news broke about the layoffs at The Washington Post.  I've been a subscriber for a long time, and before that, The Washington Post was one of the first newspapers, and really, the only newspaper that shaped me, as a writer, as a citizen, as a reader/thinker.  This batch of layoffs is not the first.  The paper is a shadow of its former glory.  But I'm no longer sure it's worth what I pay for it, and I think I'm still getting an educator discount rate.  

When my credit card was compromised, I had to update various automated bills, and The Washington Post was one of them.  I was surprised by how much I'm paying a month, and now I'll be getting even less.  No Books section?  Really?

I'll wait and see; some of the writers I like are still there.  But still, it's like the difference between seeing through a grimy windshield and a clean one.  For my whole lifetime, The Washington Post helped me see more clearly; I'm not convinced that will still be the case going forward.

Another Week, Another Tuesday Snow Day

I have the gift of another snow day.  We didn't find out that we would have today as a snow day until 4:30.  As I said before, as an administrator, I understand.  It was good to see what the rate of melting would be.  As the afternoon went on, and more Spartanburg public schools announced they would be closed today, I thought we would be having remote learning today.

My first thought:  I am determined not to squander this snow day.  But let me be fair to myself.  IYe haven't squandered the past snow days.  I just haven't gotten as much done as I hoped--and honestly, that's my mental state most days.

I feel lucky as an English faculty member.  It's easy for me to create remote assignments.  I have lots of flexibility, in terms of what needs to happen in a given semester.  I know that colleagues in other departments must be frustrated by having to adjust again and again.

I do want to be intentional today in getting my gradebooks created for my in-person classes.  I use Brightspace, as do most of us at Spartanburg Methodist College.  I use the LMS for other things too, mainly as a place to post announcements and handouts.

I hope to go for at least one walk today, or maybe several short ones.  

Yesterday I made it up to Dedication Altar and down to the lake.  I was struck by all the shades of neutral colors and swirls on the lake's surface, like it was some map I couldn't read.

Of course, my mind went to all the scenes in all the books and movies about people falling through the ice.  I had heard the various public safety advisories that no lake in North Carolina is safe enough to walk on, regardless of how frozen it looks.  This lake at Lutheridge did not look safe at all; I could hear and see water gurgling underneath.

We may get more snow tomorrow, but it won't be like this past week-end's snow.  The weather forecast could change.  Let me stay alert.

The Downside of a Snow Day Cancellation

Despite it being a snow day, I feel a bit scattered this morning.  I was hoping we'd get a morning notification about tomorrow morning, but that decision won't come until afternoon, when the school's Emergency Operations team sees how the melting proceeds throughout the day.  My administrator self understands.  The me who wants to plan the rest of the week wants the information now.

I will try to settle in here soon and get some of the work done that I need to have done.  For my in person classes, I need to do the final setting up of course shells.  It's not as pressing a matter in the early part of the term, but I do use the LMS to record grades, and this week, I'll have the first work that needs to be graded coming in.  I also need to create some assignments. 

I know that the sensible thing would be to assume that we need to report back tomorrow and get the work done.  Or another sensible thing:  decide that my Tuesday classes will be remote regardless.  But I would be happier if the whole campus shut down.

Snow Day: The Fluffy Snow Variety

I woke up this morning with a house at 67 degrees.  That's not an unusual overnight temperature for the inside of our house, but when there's a threat of power outage, we don't turn the thermostat down at night.  Last night, it was set at 70, so I felt a bit alarmed to find our inside temp below the thermostat.  I decided to have the oven do its self-cleaning cycle, which usually heats the house up so much that I rarely want to do it.

I also turned on the ceiling fan that's set to the winter cycle.  In the living room/kitchen part of the house, we've got a vaulted ceiling, so in some ways, I wasn't surprised that the space is cold (our bedroom was so warm we were sleeping on top of the covers).  But it made me anxious.

Happily, the inside temperature is now back where I set it, and I set it a few degrees higher, at 73, just to see.  The oven is over halfway through its cleaning cycle.

We've had a night of wind, which has also made me anxious.  I will always wonder if I would be as anxious as I am when the winds pick up had we not been here for the remnants of Hurricane Helene.  Before the fall of 2024, I thought that all trees stayed upright unless something unfortunate happened, like a lightning strike or an insect infestation.

But let me write about more pleasant things.  Our snow day yesterday was delightful.  

The snow was light and fluffy, as promised.  Mid-morning, I decided that I wanted to take more of a walk to see the winter wonderland for myself.  I bundled up but then I decided to add my winter jacket on top of this winter coat; I added it less for reasons of protection from the cold than because I wanted an easy access pocket for my phone.

The snow was at least 3 inches when I went out, but it felt deeper.  There was a set of tire tracks on the road so I walked beside them.  I thought about going on a longer walk, but the wind was picking up, and the temperature was already in the low 20's, so I decided to be safe.  I was more worried about slipping and falling and breaking a body part than I was scared of frostbite.  I took a selfie before I went inside:

I also took a closer picture of the front of our house.  I always love this Christmas card look (well, the way it would look like a Christmas card if I moved the trash can at the side of the house):

I spent much of the rest of the day cooking.  On Friday, I bought a whole chicken at the grocery store, and then three hours later, my spouse bought a whole chicken too.  So we cooked one of them on Friday, and then we cooked the second one yesterday, along with roasted potato chunks and carrots.  We made some chicken stock out of the bones, and then I made a chicken pot pie, which turned out to be a bit more like a chicken veggie soup with some puff pastry on top.  The sauce will be thicker today.  I also made snow cream.

I used the snow off the top of the table on the deck.  Before I collected it, I mixed milk and half and half and sugar and a bit of vanilla extract.  I'd like to make more today, but the snow is not as clean.  It has tree debris, not the other kind of dirtiness.  The picture below shows the snow in its more pristine state:

It was a good snow day, but I'm a bit concerned about the aftermath.  How long will it be before the roads are clear?  I'm guessing that it will probably take until Tuesday or Wednesday when the highs get back into the 40's.  Classes are already cancelled for Monday, and I'm hoping they'll be cancelled for Tuesday too, since I am unlikely to be able to make it down the mountain.

Living the Dream!

I am distracted by the beauty of the snow.  I woke up at one point in the night and nothing had fallen, and then, an hour or two later, we'd gotten a dusting.  A few hours ago, we may have had an inch, but barely.  And now, there's enough snow on the patio table to make snow cream later.  We are forecast to get 3-6 inches before the snow ends tonight, and I think we've already gotten 3 inches.  Let me go measure.

We are at 2.25 inches, and as promised, the snow is light and fluffy--hopefully less likely to break branches and power lines.  I plan to make snow cream later; we've never had enough snow to do that before.  I saw a weather story on a Fox news Facebook site that gave recipes for snow cream, along with the advice that this recipe is an eat right away recipe, not a save for later recipe.  My first thought:  "People save snow cream for later?"

But I'm not here just to write about the weather.  Let me record some other parts of the week that I don't want to slip away.

--I got my teaching schedule for Fall, which includes three Creative Writing type classes:  Journalism Workshop I, Creative Writing (a 200 level class), and Studies in Nonfiction. More than once yesterday afternoon, I thought, I am living one of the dreams of my younger self, who yearned to teach more creative writing.

--Before she assigned me the Journalism class, my department chair reached out to me by way of e-mail to see if I'd be open to teaching it.  Here's what I wrote back:  "I am open to that, although I haven't taught it. But long ago, in my Newberry College undergrad days, I was an essential part of the student newspaper. We went looking for hot stories, a la Woodward and Bernstein. We never found them, but we had fun just the same."

--Yesterday one of my Fall English 101 students asked me to read his short story he'd been working on, and I did.  I also had an interview with a student who was supposed to interview someone working in a field he would be interested in as a career--another English faculty member referred him to me when he said he wanted to be a published writer.  It was a great interview.  And again, I thought, I am living the dream--of both my younger self and my current self. 

And now, I'm living the dream of having seasons and a beautiful snow.  Let me go out and explore!

Yearly Intentions Report: The Poem Revision Edition

You would think that with two snow days this week, three actually counting cancelled church on Sunday, I wouldn't feel desperate for some early morning writing time.  And yet, at 1:30 when I couldn't fall back asleep, I decided to get up for a bit.  I've enjoyed this early morning writing time so much that I didn't go back to sleep.

I've done a bit of writing in my offline journal.  I went to my first online class for this semester, the one I'm taking not teaching, the Lutheran Foundations class at United Lutheran Seminary.  I wanted to do some offline journaling about my anxiety around the class, anxieties that have turned out to be mainly scheduling and logistics anxiety.  Those anxieties lifted a bit, at least for this week, as the class progressed yesterday.  It also helped to write about it.

Then I turned my attention to a poem I've been revising.  I first started writing it on January 15.  I was inspired by Jan Richardson's poem about wise women also coming to the baby Jesus.  Here's the first stanza I created, as originally written, complete with automatic capitalization that I go back to correct as I revise:

The women stay behind
While the wise men head west,
Following a star,
Hoping for regime change
Or at the very least, control
Of the narrative. The women melt
The old candles into something new.

On January 24, I did some work on the poem, enough work to justify creating a new document that I labeled as an intermediate draft.  Here's the intermediate revision:

The wise women stay behind.
The wise men head west,
following a star,
hoping for regime change
or at the very least, control
of the narrative.

The women keep
the lamps lit. In the long winter
afternoons, they melt
the old candles into something new.
The children decorate the new creations
while the grandmothers
tell their tales and fill
their hearts with hope.

This morning, I decided that it was time to actually finish the draft.  I was partly inspired by the end of the month approaching and my intention to end the year with 52 finished drafts.  I was successful, and then I thought about revising another poem--that would mean I am on track for the year, not slightly behind.  

I've decided that my intention to finish drafts can extend to rough drafts written before 2026, so I went back to my folder of rough drafts.  I pulled out a rough draft from December, about Noah's wife looking at Realtor.com and seeing her old house.  I should be able to finish that revision by tomorrow.  I'm waiting to see if some final lines come to me today as my brain works on the ending.

New Bishops, New Weather Reports

Once again, I am looking at weather reports.  But I'm also looking at pictures of the installation service (right term?) for Sarah Mullally, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, the head of the Anglican church worldwide.  These pictures were posted widely on Facebook, so I'm hoping it's O.K. to post them here.  

Posted at the St. Paul's Cathedral Facebook Site

In this context, I mean Anglican as in the Church of England, not the group that broke away because the Church of England is too radical.  Ordaining women would be seen as evidence of that radicalism, not to mention choosing a woman to lead the whole church.

Posted at the St. Paul's Cathedral Facebook site

I'm struck by how young she is in terms of her career as a pastor.  She had a career as a cancer nurse before her ordination in 2002; she was in her first bishop position in 2015.  She was born in 1962, so some folks (me) might see her as young, while others might sigh and wish for even younger leadership.

Posted on the Canterbury Cathedral Facebook page

The above picture first grabbed my attention.  What must it be like to be the stonecarver, engraving her name into the wall?  Does one have to work up to that position?

And what must it be like to be the one to see their name on the wall?

It's a tough time to come to leadership, but one thing my Church History class taught me is that it's always a tough time to be a bishop or an Archbishop or even a pastor.  I'm hoping for easy weather for her, for all of us.

Snow Days Come to an End

Today our snow day mini-vacation comes to a close, albeit with qualifications:  if the road conditions are unsafe, just let your instructor/supervisor know.  I've already had several e-mails from students.  I thought about writing such an e-mail myself, but I went for a walk yesterday afternoon, and the roads were clear and dry.

I'm still adjusting my lesson plans for the rest of the week.  I'll give my morning class, the English 101 both today and Friday to write their essays, and we'll do peer editing on Monday.  My two afternoon classes are English 102 classes.  I'm leaning towards doing the same class and in-person daily writing on both today and Friday--students can choose which one to attend.  Those who can't make it today aren't penalized, and neither are those who made an extra effort to make it back.  And it keeps my MWF classes more in sync with the TT classes than other approaches.  It's an experiment, and if it doesn't work beautifully, it's not a huge deal.  And it may give me insight.

I have gotten a lot done during these snow days--not all that I thought about getting done, but enough.  I even pulled out the shop vac yesterday and vacuumed up some of the spots that are impossible with a broom.  

I haven't gotten as much exercise as I might have, had the roads been passable before yesterday afternoon.  But that's O.K. too--it would be better if I had been eating more sensibly, but that's O.K. too.  I have managed to stay calm and less anxious, without drinking or going for a walk, two of the coping techniques I'm most likely to use when I'm feeling anxious.

To be clear, eating treats is also one of my most used coping techniques in dealing with anxiety, so I've used that strategy more than I might have otherwise.  I've also tried writing in my offline journal, another effective technique.

It will be good to get back into my regular schedule--albeit a regular schedule that's about to change with tomorrow's first Lutheran Confessions class.  I did spend some time with the course materials yesterday.  The syllabus gives more insight about the writing expectations than I realized when I wrote yesterday's blog post.  The writing looks very manageable.  I read the assignment in the textbook yesterday morning--a delightful book.  I have not yet opened The Book of Concord, which I predict I will not like as much.  I just don't find pre-20th century theology as appealing as the theology that comes later.

Posted late because . . .

Snow Days and School Days and Anxiety

This morning, I'm feeling oddly anxious.  I have much less reason to feel anxious this week than last.  The ice storm wasn't as bad as we feared it might be.  I had been worried that the seminary class that I'm taking starts Thursday, and I haven't gotten a Zoom link or seen a course shell uploaded in Canvas--this morning, it's there.  We have power, internet, and water, and I have another remote learning day today, so I don't have to worry about the roads.  My spouse had jury duty today--also cancelled.

So why the anxiety?

I've been trying to get to the bottom of my anxiety, trying to understand.  I'm sure part of my anxiety stems from my schedule ramping back up again--so, even though this week includes some extra time at home, most weeks won't be like this.  I've also been feeling anxiety about taking another seminary class with worries about all that could go wrong trying to take root in my brain.  What if the Zoom link doesn't work?  What if the class requires too much of me?  What if this class is the one that breaks me?

I do have to laugh at myself.  I've been taking online classes for 5 years, and I've never run into problems I couldn't solve.  I explored the course shell, and the assignments look manageable.  I have the textbooks.  And then there's the larger situation:  I'm not a 25 year old, just starting out on my life's journey.  I have a full-time job that doesn't depend on this seminary class.

My anxiety might also be sadness masquerading as anxiety.  Why am I sad?  Well, I've enjoyed these snow days, even as I felt anxious about all the ice that might fall.  I'm sad to see this snow vacation come to an end, sad even as I have at least one more day to enjoy.

Let me make a list of some moments that I don't want to slip away:

--I've enjoyed the cooking we've done,  from the seafood stew on Saturday to last night's homemade pizza made in cast iron pans.  I've baked bread, both an oatmeal bread on Saturday and a pumpkin bread this morning.

--We watched Sinners on Saturday--what an amazing movie!  If it hadn't gotten so much Oscar buzz, I might have skipped it, thinking it would be too gory a horror movie.  Thankfully, the gory parts weren't too gross, and the horror bits weren't haunting.

--I've done a lot of sewing and sorting of fabric.  I decided that I was ready for a change from the Christmas fabrics that I had been using, so yesterday I made the shift back to the same type of project, sewing log cabin patchwork out of scraps, but using a wider variety of fabrics.

--Yesterday I took an unintended nap.  I had laid down in the late morning to watch the glitter snow that developed in the morning but was only visible when seen through sunshine.  The trees gleamed through their ice glaze.  Next thing I knew, I was waking up from a deep kind of nap.

Snow Days, Grown Up Style

So far, we've continued to have electricity, internet, and water as the various weather systems swirl around us.  This morning, the wind is howling, and I've already heard a transformer pop, which only resulted in a tiny flicker of the lights.  Our luck may not hold, but I'm not afraid of being without power for hours or days the way I was last week.  There was a tree that went down in our neighborhood yesterday, taking a power line with it.  It only affected the lower part of the neighborhood, and it only took 90 minutes for power to be restored.

We are still stuck in the house, which I expected.  The precipitation that we got was mostly ice and freezing rain, which means that outdoor surfaces are a solid sheet of ice, which again makes me feel fortunate to have power.  We were lucky that the freezing rain shifted to regular rain Sunday afternoon and that the temperature stayed just above freezing during the afternoon and much of the night.

My school has canceled in-person classes both today and tomorrow.  They'll make a decision about Wednesday before noon tomorrow, but I may not be able to make it in regardless.  On MWF, I leave my house for campus before sunrise, and we are expecting a time of bitterly cold weather, which means the frozen stuff will still be with us.

I've been trying to make good use of my time.  I created a worship time for my congregation in Bristol (live streamed by way of Facebook, then put on my YouTube channel for those who don't use Facebook)--if you want more thoughts on this process, you can read this post on my theology blog.  I still have some work to do on my course shells for Spartanburg Methodist College, but I did get documents uploaded.  Maybe today and tomorrow I can get gradebooks set up.  I sent out e-mails and created announcements for my online classes that started last week.  I did some sewing and some poem writing and some sending out of poems and some cooking.

How lovely to think that I have two more days of this.  How lovely that I am not desperate to leave the house.

Hurricane Prep, Winter Storm Prep

It's been an interesting process, preparing for this widespread winter storm.  In some ways, it's reminded me of hurricane prep, especially in terms of making sure we have the supplies that we need, in case we're cut off from the world for several days.  

But of course, a winter storm is different than a hurricane.  I haven't been worried about the perishable food in the refrigerator--if we lose power, we can put the food outside.  I have been researching carbon monoxide risks with a propane heater that's rated for indoor use, something we never would have needed in South Florida.

Just like with a hurricane, it's hard to know what part of the storm will arrive with what intensity.  So far, we're doing fairly well here, but that could change this afternoon.  And let me be clear, when I say we're doing fairly well here, I am not leaving the house because of the wintry mix that fell and keeps falling and the slick surfaces.  But we have electricity, and so far, the tree branches seem to be their normal shape.

I have gotten most of my information through various online weather sites, not the TV news.  I wonder if the coverage is the same kind of intensity as hurricane approaching coverage.  One of my colleagues at Spartanburg Methodist was so freaked out by it all that she left town, and there was a moment when I wondered if she took the wiser approach.  If the ice had been thicker, if we were out of power for a week or more, I'd say that she was the smart one.  I may yet--we still have hours of precipitation yet to fall.

I do wonder how much of my jitteriness has also been because of Hurricane Helene.  I filled up the stock pot with water, to go with some of our jugs of water left over from Helene--just in case the water system goes down.  Before Hurricane Helene, I wouldn't have thought I needed to worry about that here in the mountains.

I'm glad we decided to cancel worship.  I would not have been able to make it across the mountain, and I am guessing that the roads in Bristol, Tennessee are as bad or worse than they are here.  

My spouse suggested that I do an abbreviated worship, and so I experimented with that this morning.  I did a Facebook Live broadcast on my Facebook page, and then I captured the video so that I could put it on my YouTube channel (you can view it here).  The Facebook post has already gotten more views than almost anything else I've done there.  I don't really know what counts as a view, so I am not reading too much into this.

I'll close with a prayer I wrote for the Sunday devotional time:  

Creator God, as we wait for the storms to pass, give us patience and strength. Help us to remember that you are with us in every kind of weather, both the literal weather and the other types of storms that threaten us. Inspire us to be the light of the world, today and every day.