sometimes…

… unfortunate things happen. Like losing your knitting project on the bus, and only realising when you reach the office. The outpouring of concern and sympathy from those who helped me look was much appreciated! Now my hands are free, but we gotta find something new to do soon.

I swore on the Bible to not tell a lie
But I’ve lied and lied
And I crossed my heart and I hoped to die
And I’ve died and died

I was going to talk about how this stanza plays with taking hyperbole and idealised language literally, and thereby highlights the ultimate inadequacy of man to be perfect on his own. But it sounded so pedantic and boring, and would that just get in the way of the simple emotional appeal of the song?

Maybe not, actually; literary study doesn’t kill art (contrary to popular opinion). In any case, I also observed that the tension escalates quickly only in the stanza quoted above; before that the protagonist’s falling-short of ideals, which along with his near-fatal resignation, as underscored by his employment of almost hyperbolic language) is laid bare in that stanza, is only hinted at. But then as swiftly as his despair begins to creep in, he finds the hope of the Incarnation and the redemption bought by Christ. It’s almost like a psalm.

whitsun links

It’s the Ember Wednesday of Pentecost today.

Happily, a quiet day at work (if you’re my employer, hello?), which is why I’ve had the time to finish my assigned work and try twice, unsuccessfully, to scan the pages for the Pentecost Octave from my 1949 St Andrew Daily Missal, which I keep at my desk. Oh, and to read up on the Ember Days. Wouldn’t you agree that’s much preferable to, say, watching a viral video on an eagle stealing a bunny from a baby fox again and again? (It’s an amazing video, that said; rightly suited for this day, on which we give thanks to God for creation!)

Quite frankly, I can’t claim to be an expert on them or anything, but that’s alright by me. I suppose the scourge of our age might be the hordes of people who, after looking something up on Google, are all too quick to speak as experts. But perhaps I’ll put some links and thoughts down, and come back to them another day.

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Last Friday, I was walking down the street (most likely from the cathedral), thinking about Pentecost and the Ascension. My thoughts drifted everywhere, as usual, and I happened to think about people who don’t get to go to mass–whether’s it’s weekday mass, or on feast days. I thought also of Maria Augusta Trapp’s Around the Year with the Trapp Family, which is about family life and the liturgical year, and I started thinking, What does it take to live on the liturgical calendar? The thought seized upon me–feasts happen without you! Feasts happen even without mass being celebrated! If a tree falls in a forest–if a feast-day is on the calendar–the answer is yes.

Living in the world as we do, we unthinkingly live by secular calendars, whether it’s the Ministry of Manpower’s public-holiday calendar, the school year, or the paycheck cycle. Or the Julian calendar. (Hahahahaha /nerd joke) But the point is, the natural calendar that the Ember Days remember is part of the underlying rhythm of the dance into which God has invited those He created in His own image, in a way that the solar or lunar calendars are not. So is the liturgical calendar. The realisation unmoors you from “the real world”, but I reckon, only to induce you into a more real world, in the way that God is all that is real. Especially these days (and in this place) where seasons are roughly imaginary…

So these Ember Days: fasting, penance, thanksgiving… and reality.

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On Sunday, I met one of the little toddlers at the local old-rite mass. I squatted down to say hello, and he came running over. But he’s a shy one, and when I asked, “Where’s your mama?” he decided to answer by running right back to her. (Amusingly, when a friend came out of church, she stared at me crouching on the floor and asked, what on earth are you up to?) I had a thought about what I might use to bribe him win his affection next time, and somehow, while looking up ideas over breakfast, I found this website: Like Mother Like Daughter, a blog contributed to by Leila Marie Lawler (of The Little Oratory) and her daughters.

Its tagline is “… because it’s important to maintain the collective memory.” So it is! The blog is full of beautiful prose and photos and, oh, the answers to questions that one day you might have needed the answer five minutes ago, such as how to get children to do the dishes and talk, and some cute homemade (not intimidatingly amazing) quilts… you know, stuff I like reading. Things about laundry and house-cleaning. How else are you supposed to learn this stuff?! (Well, speaking as someone who left home early.)

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Maybe I’m feeling domestic, on account of the house-organising and other stuff, like watching A Quiet Place and encountering rousing success with homemade mayonnaise (it’s so easy you won’t believe it). But I enjoyed this about canning and Embertides.

Card Mindszenty on mothers

The Most Important Person on earth is a mother. She cannot claim the honour of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has built something more magnificent than any cathedral—a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby’s body… The angels have not been blessed with such a grace. They cannot share in God’s creative miracle to bring new saints to Heaven. Only a human mother can. Mothers are closer to God the Creator than any other creature; God joins forces with mothers in performing this act of creation… What on God’s good earth is more glorious than this: to be a mother?

• Joseph Cardinal Mindszenty

A blessed Mother’s Day to my mama and all mothers (and also the spiritual ones).

things that do interest me, #1

“I’m sure you’re still interested in some things,” a friend replied to my assertion that I basically am not. And it’s true, in fact, except it’s easy to be tired and mopey about life that even hobbies and interests mean little. So here I am, making an effort. 🙂

I dusted off my knitting recently, and revived a slumbering project. I started this project (way too) long ago, but took very, very long to get past the ribbing, and slightly less long (but still very long) to get past the first, oh, inch of lace. Here we have Sarah Wilson’s Prima Legwarmers, in Madelinetosh Sock Red Robin, from a dye lot that’s probably three years old at this point. These will be for J, and hopefully finished in time for her next birthday. That will make me only one birthday late.

Like I said, it’s been a while.

Yes, I did take a break from my desk in order to go take this photo while there was still light.

The needles for the lace section are Clover Bamboo DPNs in 3.00mm. They come in a set of five and have the size etched into them. This is a terribly underrated feature. And before anyone asks (I’m sure no one will), I like DPNs for small-diameter things! I think they distribute the weight more comfortably than circulars do.

A little over-exposed, but you can see the size on the needles.

The ribbing was done on Hiya Hiya Steel Sock 2.00mm DPNs.

It took ages to get the ribbing right. I had to modify the pattern, so between bad guesses on how much to cast on, miscounting, and poor planning, I think I cast on and unravelled five or six times.

Skills learned: German twisted cast-on (yay), understanding a written lace pattern, not giving up (grr)

On the whole, it’s proving a quick knit (only 81 stitches around). Speaking of written lace patterns, I am not one of the people who prefer them. Charts, please! But it was because of this that I had the interesting experience of having to understand a pattern again. As the pattern has a four-row repeat, I was loathe to keep track of whether I was on round 1 or 3, and consequently, messed up a lot to begin with. But when I started noticing a pattern and doing damage control (ahem, there may or may not be k3togs to fix my mistakes), eventually I settled into what I think is the actual correct pattern; or at least I don’t have extra stitches.

Next challenge: stopping when I have used exactly half my yarn! Out the scales will come.

the voice of Jesus, andrew peterson

I know you’ve been afraid
Don’t know what to do
You’ve been lost in the questions
I don’t know what to say
I’m sure if I were you I’d proceed with some caution

But I want you to know
When the joy that you feel
Leaves a terrible ache in your bones
It’s the voice of Jesus
Calling you back home

I know you’ve got a lot
Spinning in your head
All this emptiness fills you
Maybe you could try Laying in your bed
To ask the silence to still you

And you might hear a beat
On the door of your heart
When you do, let it open up wide
It’s the voice of Jesus
Calling you his bride

Once upon a time there was a little boy
Who wandered the forest, abandoned
And he heard in the leaves
And behind every tree
The sound of a secret companion
Following

So listen, little girl,
Somewhere there’s a King
Who will love you forever
And nothing in the world
Could ever come between You, my love, and this Lover

So when I kiss you at night
And I turn out the light
And I tell you you’re never alone
It’s the voice of Jesus
Calling you
It’s the voice of Jesus
Calling you his own

Everyone needs to hear this some time, and these few days I have been thinking of a few people whom, I think, need it a little more right now.