Irony Becomes Her

Diablog, Part V

Hannah: You do well to sit and look out the window and look at the snow. Seize those Sabbath moments and find what there is to find. Rest, rest, rest.

"Far above the Ephal Duath in the West, the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach." -- J.R.R. Tolkien, Return of the King (as if you need me to cite this!)

Also, don't forget to arrange flowers and laugh a bit. You sound like you are starting to be too hard on yourself. It is a funny paradox that we are both called to strain and called to rest, that the one can inform the other and that both are run on God-energy.

Love you!

Lynn: Thank you. I might do my own version of arranging flowers, by which I think you mean "something seemingly shallow that you're good at and usually enjoy." I'll have to figure out what that is -- probably something with yarn and needles.

As for laughing (without the sardonic edge that has infected it lately), I think that will come along with a miraculous jolt of that "God-energy." Pray for me. I do know it will come. But I'm currently caught in the first quarter of this hymn:

Long mine imprisoned spirit lay, fast bound in sin and nature's night.
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray; I woke, the dungeon flamed with light!
The chains fell off, my heart was free; I rose, went forth and followed thee.
Amazing love, how can it be that thou my God shouldst die for me?

Even so, Lord, come quickly and bring to pass the rest!

posted by Lynn @ 8:33 AM