I present a series of short Facebook status updates from the past month or two…because when I delete FB for good, I still need a record that I was alive and well these past few months with a lot of good things happening, but I’m too swamped to talk/write about life (with my days scheduled down to about every 10 minute increment), it’s enough to just live it.
September 20, 2012:
When in doubt, read poetry. I came across this gorgeous poem while preparing a class a few days ago, and I don’t know if it’s the middle ages of life, hormones, lack of sleep, or rather, just the sheer beauty and truth of it, but this caught my breath:
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
A PSALM OF LIFE
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest !
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o’erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
September 17, 2012:
Returned this evening from our first ever parenting class. This is what you do instead of date-night when you are the desperate parents of teenagers? Once you have a teenager in the house, you may realize you need help. Tonight, I understood I am not alone (I am not alone!) in this business of raising aliens–the child you rocked to sleep just a fortnight ago awakens with rocket fuel hormones, what else am I to think?
September 15, 2012:
Jane Austen movie night (do I watch Persuasion or Sense and Sensibility? Already recently saw Pride and Prejudice and Emma)–now Stanford needs to research, do the movies have the same effect??
September 7, 2012:
Why try to explain miracles to your kids when you can just have them plant a garden. ~Robert Brault
(Luke, bringing in a little harvest from our garden. Guess who is the first one out there every day, hunting for something new?)
August 30, 2012:
County Fair ended at the beginning of the month, but a final update: Liberty and Justice for all. Jaime showed so well, sold her market lamb (Justice) at the 4-H auction and made a fabulous profit for all her hard work, and yesterday her “back-up” lamb (Liberty) ended his days as well and soon we’ll be eating lamb chops. It’s tough business, but we know where our food comes from.
August 10, 2012:
August 10, 1996, we gathered at the little church in Franklin, Oregon, our only connection there being that we loved this fading structure with the elegant steeple, an 1898 historical building. Alison Kraus sang about how “Old Mr. Webster could never define what’s being said between your heart and mine” as wedding guests arrived and my sister’s baby cried through the whole ceremony. I never noticed at all and later Chris said, “Did you HEAR that baby?!”
He continues, all these 16 years, to point out many things I don’t notice, like signposts and passersby I invariably run into, and he still teases me about when we lived in Eugene during a time Autzen Stadium was being renovated, and after a year of daily driving by the construction, I turned to him one day and said, “When did they build THIS?!”
Luckily, we do still notice each other, and Happy Anniversary to us. ♥
July 27, 2012:
I smell like a lamb. After four straight hours of washing sheep and shearing sheep (rather, holding sheep whilst the expert slick-sheared them, and I just got the whole wooly mess all over me), I am lambed out. And all I have to look forward to is five straight days of County Fair during which I live in a sheep barn supervising my 4-H girl, bless her soul. It’s about midnight, having a hard time getting to sleep, and I’ll be darned if I try counting sheep.