Sola Christus

Moved

540 posts later, I have moved. Please come and visit my (and my husband's) new blog at The Sidemen.

 

{this moment} : : the long goodbye

I moved out of my flat on the 31st. And this began my goodbye to Scotland.

Here are some pictures from my long farwell to the Town by the Sea.

Taking a break at Gladstone's Library in Wales.

 

One last look out my flat's living room window.

 

My life measured in boxes.

 

Passing Durham on the train back to Scotland. I haven't been, but its on my list of places to go.

 

 

 

Everything comes to an end

Finishing a PhD is ______ (insert word to show the sisyphean feat that this is).

Planning a wedding is hard/difficult/enjoyable/frustrating (72 days to go).

Living 3, 800 miles away from your fiance while trying to plan said wedding, well there's no way around that one, it's just sh*t, that I wouldn't wish on anyone (34 days to go). Though, my fiance makes it bearable; he is wonderful, always encouraging and loving me--more than I could ever ask for. 

(Plus, I never knew people could be so rude about weddings. Everyone seems to have an opinion, and some people think they can just invite themselves to your wedding. Seriously? Don't they know it costs money?)

Needless to say, my days and nights have been spent with many hours in the office and even less sleep. I'm trying not to get ulcers or have a heart attack, and taking trips to the gym to keep my sanity. Here's the view I see on the way back from the gym:

So, here's my prayer for today, and for the end of this process:

 

 

{this moment} : : insomnia and words

some words and images from this week

 

cemetary clover

 

 

coffee dripped on printed pages

 

 

spring clouds pregnant with rain

 

 

sometimes insomnia reaps results. (State-side friends, this was taken at 4:40am. Yes, that's the sun)

{this moment} : : frozen spheres and blossoms

I bought a one-way plane ticket this week, from Scotland to Charlotte (via London and Chicago). I have mixed feelings about this purchase. But, suffice it to say, I only have a few more weeks in my home, Scotland. So, here are some moments from this week. 

(rain and hail)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

{this moment} : : The Sun always rises

No mater what the course of the story, no matter what dark shadows cross our path, the Resurection assures us, Jesus always wins.

 

National Poetry Month 4.0

I've posted poems for National Poetry Month for several years now. This month, I won't have time to post daily, but I will post some. My PhD thesis (affectionatly known as Harry) is nearing his birthing point, and I am focusing all my energies on him. So, here is a poem, a favorite of mine, to start off this week after Easter.

 

Marked by Ashes

by Walter Brueggemann

Ruler of the Night, Guarantor of the day . . .
This day — a gift from you.
This day — like none other you have ever given, or we have ever received.
This Wednesday dazzles us with gift and newness and possibility.
This Wednesday burdens us with the tasks of the day, for we are already halfway home
     halfway back to committees and memos,
     halfway back to calls and appointments,
     halfway on to next Sunday,
     halfway back, half frazzled, half expectant,
     half turned toward you, half rather not.

This Wednesday is a long way from Ash Wednesday,
   but all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes —
     we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth:
       of failed hope and broken promises,
       of forgotten children and frightened women,
     we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to dust;
     we can taste our mortality as we roll the ash around on our tongues.

We are able to ponder our ashness with
   some confidence, only because our every Wednesday of ashes
   anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky taste of death.

On this Wednesday, we submit our ashen way to you —
   you Easter parade of newness.
   Before the sun sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us,
     Easter us to joy and energy and courage and freedom;
     Easter us that we may be fearless for your truth.
   Come here and Easter our Wednesday with
     mercy and justice and peace and generosity.

We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon.

{this moment} : : scraps of the week

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

glowering clouds on the horizon

 

this month's goal

 

shades of hope in the ashen land

{this moment} : : the last lap of the marathon

...called the PhD. And 3.5 years comes down to three months folks. The question is: Can she do it?

 

the smell of ashes

Lent is a call to renew a commitment grown dull, perhaps, by a life more marked by routine than by reflection.  After a lifetime of mundane regularity or unconsidered adherence to the trappings of faith, Lent requires me, as a Christian, to stop for a while, to reflect again on what is going on in me. I am challenged again to decided whether I, myself, do truly believe that Jesus is the Christ -- and if I believe, whether I will live accordingly when I can no longer hear the song of angels in my life and the star of Bethlehem has grown dim for me.

 

Joan Chittister
The Liturgical Year

 

(HT to cino for this quote)