Because everyone loves a good story
Masterful Poems: “Pied Beauty”
“Glory be to God for dappled things.”
So begins a poem of praise by my favorite poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins. This little two-stanza gem packs plenty of power in fewer than a dozen lines. Hopkins uses rich descriptions in such a short space that reading it takes a moment but savoring it takes much longer. Won’t you savor it with me?
A Brief Bit of Backstory
In Victorian England, the young Hopkins vowed to become a Jesuit priest. This was a very strict sect of the priesthood, and Hopkins devoted himself to it completely. While his duties included quite a bit of academics (he took and taught many classes throughout his short life), he also had time to take in the beauty of the Irish countryside around him. For this artist, reflection led to verse. His poems are replete with snapshots of God’s creation, from birds and sunsets to a celebration of God’s creativity in general. That’s what this poem is about.
“Pied Beauty”
Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
Beauty in Variety
Oh, friends. These descriptions melt my heart. First of all, savor the images of beauty. Hopkins celebrates the uniqueness of pink freckles on a fish and a sky streaked with fine wisps of cloud. (In fact, look up images for “brinded,” won’t you? You’ll know just the kind of clouds he has in mind.)
As he looks around him, the blaze of auburn from a fallen chestnut, the flash of vibrant yellow from a finch’s wing, and the rolling patchwork quilt of farmland draw his eye. Not unlike Walt Whitman, Hopkins finds fodder for interest even in the “gear, tackle, and trim” of everyday laborers. The uniqueness of each calling and duty impresses him with the creativity of the One who made such a world.
Everyday Wonderful
But Hopkins isn’t just luckier than thou; we’re all surrounded by everyday beauty. We may not get to roam in a rural Irish landscape, but I truly believe that beauty is everywhere for those who seek it. Even the beauty that Hopkins celebrates is fairly prosaic, really: sky, fish, nuts, birds, land, tools. But he follows the beauty up to its Source and is duly amazed that all this variety comes from one Maker. His observations lead to praise.
When I moved from Michigan to deep south Texas for a while, the landscape was completely different. Many people have a hard time finding beauty in the flat, dusty, parched terrain. But I was ready to love it, so God showed me plenty to love: cactus in bloom; spindly, swaying palms; blazing sunsets; tiny lizards (even if they were in the bathtub); crashing ocean waves; verdant fields of sugar cane; flocks of parrots overhead; and sizzling, savory tacos. Oh, praise God for those tacos. Amen and amen.
Beauty is there for those who have their eyes (and mouths) open.
Beauty Past Change
We see that nature’s scope and variety spring forth from a God whose beauty encompasses all we see and more. For this he is worthy of praise! But that’s not the only application Hopkins draws here. He also directs our attention to the truth that God’s beauty is “past change.” Let me confess that until I started writing this, I wasn’t sure why Hopkins chose to describe God’s beauty this way. Usually we think of beauty as past description or comparison, but not past change.
Then I realized he was pointing us to James 1:17.
“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”
God’s infinite fecundity fathers forth every good and perfect gift—the unimaginable variety of life—and yet he is beyond variation. He makes all things “swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim,” and yet he will never have a momentary flicker of shadow due to change. The God who made the surprising contradictions of nature will never surprise us by contradicting his own character. The Father of lights can have no shadow. This is great news indeed! Praise him!
Take a Hike
I had hoped to wax eloquent upon the poem’s masterful composition, but I’m afraid it would take too long. I’d like to dwell on the vocabulary, rhyme scheme, imagery, and all his lovely consonance, assonance, and alliteration, but I don’t want to trespass on your time. Suffice it to say that his craftsmanship impresses me as much as his content.
But instead of sitting here reading about things I find beautiful, may I humbly suggest that you take a hike? It’s spring, and I can’t get enough of the outdoors. Even as I write this I’m surrounded by grass, trees, and flowers (and also pollen) on my back patio. So go ahead—take a hike and praise the One who fathers forth all that variety.
Source:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44399/pied-beauty
“Passing and Glassing” by Christina Rossetti
This year, my birthday was on Mother’s Day. It was a lovely day celebrating with family, and I felt doubly spoiled. But it was also a double whammy—a reminder that having kids later in life is like getting hooked up to the “machine of death” in The Princess Bride. Every day the energy and vitality get sucked out of my body at exponential speed. If only someone could bring me a Miracle Max pill.
Of course I’m being (mostly) facetious. And I won’t lie—there are times I miss what I looked and felt like 20 years ago. But would I trade what I have today for a tighter body and smoother skin? Not in a million years. Growing older is a gift, growing with family and friends around me is a blessing, and growing in love for God is priceless.
“Passing and Glassing”
Given my recent reflections, Christina Rossetti’s poem felt apropos as it examines aging from a woman’s perspective. Rossetti published it in 1881, but the sentiments are just as true today. See if you relate more to the feeling in the first or second stanza.
Stanza One: The Sad Reality
“All things that pass [away]/ are woman’s looking glass.” What a sad but accurate observation. All around us, life is falling prey to entropy. Flowers, fruit, and even a woman’s own reflection creep, moment by moment, toward decay. This reality reminds women that their loveliness is fleeting. The joy they have in the beauty and vitality of youth have an expiration date, and it’s fast approaching. Like Captain Hook, they can’t escape the ticking of the clock.
Stanza Two: A Note of Hope
“Tiring-glass” is another name for the mirror in a dressing room, and I think the word “tiring” does double duty by reminding the reader of the process of wearing down. Rossetti symbolizes this in the dead flowers on the woman’s dressing room table. But this stanza begins to introduce an aspect of comfort as well: old lavender and violets, though dried and faded, are still treasured. They are chosen, kept, and cared for. Time has not diminished their value or their sweetness. If she applies this truth to her own heart, a woman can choose comfort over despair.
Stanza Three: A Chance to Choose
Rossetti begins the final stanza by drawing attention to a crucial aspect of aging well: wisdom. Unlike aging itself, wisdom is rare. Rossetti contrasts two ways to spend life: brimful of hope and goodness or brimful of fear and ill (or harm). If a woman chooses to age with grace, there is still much to hope for as the years go by. If, however, she fears change and vilifies aging, she’ll work ill to herself and have nothing good to show for it.
The outcome is up to her own “work and will.” If she seeks wisdom from the fallen flowers, she’ll see that all has faded yesterday, all is fading today, and all will fade tomorrow. There’s no way around it. But despite the faded exterior, the value of the flower—and the woman—can become even richer with time.
Be Counter-Cultural
Our anti-aging obsession is nothing new; people have been seeking the fountain of youth since time began. Unfortunately, the recent Botox and lip filler craze may turn a generation of otherwise-lovely women into an row of grotesque dolls. If today’s pictures don’t scare our future grandchildren, I don’t know what will. Ladies, it doesn’t have to be this way.
To age is inevitable; to age gracefully is a choice. In our shallow, toxic culture, aging gracefully is a fight, but it’s a fight well worth waging. Rather than seeking an unchanging face, we have the privilege of seeking a beautiful soul. As we age, may our hearts grow more beautiful with each passing day, remembering that dried flowers are just as sweet.
Sail Away: Tolkien’s Frodo and Tennyson’s Ulysses
It would be hard to think of two more opposite characters than Homer’s Odysseus (aka Ulysses) and Tolkien’s Frodo Baggins. Odysseus is a mighty warrior, a fierce battle commander, a gutsy sailor, and a vicious avenger. He has no problem stabbing a giant cyclops in the eye with a burning stake so he and his friends can escape. Frodo, on the other hand, is an unassuming hobbit of the Shire, a reluctant hero, a lover of comfort, and the soul-weary bearer of a great burden. The most excitement he ever wanted was an occasional display of Gandalf’s fireworks.
And yet, as I thought about the poem “Ulysses” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I realized that his depiction of the ancient Greek hero has something important in common with Tolkien’s homebody hobbit. If you haven’t read “Ulysses” yet, take a minute to do it now. It’s not very long, and you’ll be glad you did it. You’d be hard pressed to find a manlier and more inspiring poem.
Odysseus’ Quest for Home
So why was I thinking about “Ulysses” at all? First, it’s one of my favorite poems of all time. Seriously, it’s so manly. That last stanza? Whew! Second, I recently finished reading Homer’s The Odessey, and it got me thinking about the hero. Tennyson’s poem is a conjecture about the latter days of Ulysses. After a decade of combat, strategy, and slaughter during the Trojan war, Ulysses spends another decade struggling against countless obstacles and setbacks on his quest to get home to his beloved wife Penelope and son Telemachus.
When Ulysses finally gets there, he has to purge Ithaca of wasteful, boastful men. Over 100 suitors had been courting Ulysses’ wife (against her will) and wasting Ulysses’ estate. He and Telemachus, along with two faithful servants, slaughter every one of them. At last, after more than two decades of struggle, Ulysses finally has what he’d longed for: a peaceful life at home with his family.
Frodo’s Longing for Hobbiton
This made me think of Frodo. After being thrust into a position of responsibility for the ring, Frodo embarks on a quest that takes just over a year. That doesn’t seem long, but I’m sure it’s worth a couple of decades in Hobbit years. (Any time a hobbit spends away from hearth and home has to be reckoned in something like dog years, right?) And it’s not so much the time that wears down his soul; it’s the terrifying experiences and the evil of the ring itself. Frodo eventually gives up hope of returning to Hobbiton alive, but by the slenderest of miracles he makes it home in the end.
But, like Ulysses, he doesn’t arrive to find the idyllic scene he’d been dreaming of. Instead, he and his friends set about “scouring the Shire” of the evil that had been lurking there too. Once that work is done, Frodo finally has everything he’d wanted. The world is safe, and he is home.
Restless in Ithaca
But after a while, these reunions aren’t enough for our heroes. They long to sail away, but for opposite reasons: the warrior wants adventure, and the hobbit wants healing. First, Tennyson’s poem is written from the viewpoint of Ulysses as an old man. The first lines show exactly how this battle captain would have felt amidst monotonous tranquility.
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
After two decades of action, Ulysses feels restless making trivial laws and quelling petty squabbles. He wants to get back out into the action.
Leaving the Shire
On the other end of Middle Earth, Frodo feels equally restless. The experience of war and the memory of evil have left him scarred—literally. The wound from a cursed knife still causes him pain. While Merry, Pippin, and Sam have joyfully resumed their lives in Hobbiton, Frodo feels broken and disconnected. He’s been too deeply changed to pick up where he left off. After a few years, he decides to sail away to the Undying Lands with the last of the elves.
Sam is heartbroken, saying, “’I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.’” But Frodo replies, “So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.” So he sails to Valinor in search of healing and peace.
Setting Sail
And do our heroes get what they set out for? Indeed they do. Odysseus puts his son in charge of the kingdom and rallies his fellow warriors for one final quest: to see where the winds of fate will blow them before the final sunset. “You and I are old,” he tells them,
[But] we are
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
And dear little Frodo sails from the shores of the familiar into the unknown, trusting that peace will find him at the journey’s end. And so it does. As he sails, “the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.” To his heart, that was better than adventure, better than fireworks, and even better than home.
The Deeper Longing
After their harrowing journeys, both heroes return home but find that it isn’t really home that they’d been longing for. They feel what each of us suspects: that the deepest satisfaction and fulfillment can’t be found on these shores. They were longing for something beyond home—beyond the world’s end—and they set sail to find it.
The fulfillment of our hopes can’t be reached by a ship, but they’re even worthier of pursuit. As C.S. Lewis says, “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” May we, like these heroes, boldly seek it with all our hearts.
Praise and Poetry
My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
For he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
For he has visited and redeemed his people
And has raised up a horn of salvation for us
In the house of his servant David…
Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!
Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,
According to your word;
For my eyes have seen your salvation…
If you spent any time reading the Bible book of Luke this Christmas, then these verses are fresh in your mind. Luke 1 and 2 are the classic Christmas story chapters, and for good reason: they beautifully portray the announcement and birth of Jesus, the long-foretold Messiah.
The words may be familiar, but something different stood out to me as I read them this time. There’s plenty of exposition and dialogue in the story, but there are four poems as well! Four different characters give their inspired speeches not in prose but in poetry. That’s because praise and poetry go together like peanut butter and jelly.
Case In Point: The Magnificat
When the angel Gabriel tells Mary that she will have a child born of the Holy Spirit, she responds in humility and faith. Then she hustles to her cousin Elizabeth’s house—a safe place to ride out some of the awkwardness of being pregnant before being married.
On the way she has plenty of time to meditate on the miracle taking place inside her. We know Mary is a meditator because after the birth of Jesus, the shepherds leave praising God at the top of their voices, “but Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.” She has the same response after they find the boy Jesus in the temple in Jerusalem. Mary’s heart is full of meditation.
So when Elizabeth greets Mary with joy over God’s miraculous plan, Mary responds with a long and beautiful poem—what we call the Magnificat. Her ponderings had become a poem. The only way to measure the depths of her heart was in lines of verse. To me, the Magnificat reads just like the Psalms, which are 150 more examples of worship overflowing in poetry.
Zechariah and Simeon’s Poems
In contrast with Mary’s response of faith, Zechariah demanded proof. He didn’t believe the angel who announced the upcoming birth of his miracle son, John the Baptist, so his proof was nine months of muteness. He couldn’t speak, but we know that he could meditate on all that had taken place. The minute he regained his speech, he exploded into a ready-made song of praise for God’s faithfulness.
Simeon was an old man who served God while waiting for the birth of the Messiah. When he saw baby Jesus in the temple, his long years of longing resolved into fulfillment. He praised God in a beautiful poem that celebrated God’s goodness not only to Israel but to the Gentiles as well. His meditation had grasped more than the temple leaders could accept for years to come. And he shared it in a poem.
Heavenly Poetry
Even the angels sing! What is a song but poetry put to music? The angels had centuries to compose a song about Jesus, but they kept it short and sweet. In poetry, less is often more. (Just look at the power-packed Haiku.)
The heavenly host sang not to Herod or the high priest but to the lowly shepherds. Poetry isn’t meant for the high-falutin’ alone; it’s just as rich and meaningful to the simple. Shakespeare felt the same way when he penned (feathered?) his plays in iambic pentameter and shared them with the masses. The rich chuckled and sniffled from their fancy seats, and the poor guffawed and wept on the filthy ground. The lines went to each heart equally. And when it comes to God’s inspired poetry, the impact is infinitely greater.
So What?
Maybe you’re still not convinced. You see that there are some stellar poems in the Bible, and that’s all well and good, but you still don’t love poetry as a general rule. I get it. Some people say they don’t like poetry just like others don’t like cats. But I have a theory about that.
I don’t think people actually hate cats; I think people hate stupid, mean cats. Guess what? Everyone hates stupid, mean cats. After all, they’re stupid and mean. But some cats are as chill as good dog and as cuddly as a baby. If you spent unbiased time with a really good cat, you could like (it if you let yourself).
In the same way, you may think you dislike poetry, but what you really dislike is bad, confusing poetry. Join the club. But if you met a really good poem, I know you’d like it. Understanding them and enjoying them may take exercise, but you’re strong. I know you can do it.
More to Come
To be honest, I’m not a great connoisseur of poetry. I have a few poets I love, and I don’t often branch out. But if you’ll trust me, I’d like to go on a poetry journey with you this year. Not for the whole year, probably, but at least often enough for both of us to strengthen our poetry muscles.
Poetry doesn’t just express praise, although that may be poetry at its finest. It can also express lament, confusion, peace, love, and anything in between. There’s so much variety! If God wrote some of the most important sections of scripture as inspired poetry, I think that’s proof that it’s a genre worth studying. I fully intend to, and I hope you’ll join me!
Pictures of my New House Progress
I love Christmas. I truly do. It’s always a busy time of year, but it’s busy with exciting traditions, you know?
For me, this Christmas has taken busy and exciting to a whole new level. On top of all the other day-to-day things going on and the fun Christmas traditions to keep up with, we’re also planning a birthday party for my son and dealing with a smattering of stressful but unrelated situations, all while packing up our house for moving, praying the house sale goes through without a hitch, and finalizing our new-build home so we can juggle moving in just before Christmas!
While most of these things are truly delightful, they’re also time-consuming and energy-draining. Ergo, this week’s post isn’t a post. It’s just some pictures of what’s kept me busy and excited for the past 11 months. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, and if you don’t hear from me until January, you’ll know why! Merry Christmas, friends!
To be continued… 🙂
Writing One Step at a Time
I, like so many other would-be authors, have an unfinished manuscript collecting cyber dust in my laptop. I’ve spent months and months on that sucker, but no matter how many times I tackle it from a different angle, it always feels like it’s missing something vital. It’s a decent burger, but it needs some awesome sauce, and apparently I’m fresh out. So it sits unfinished.
Maybe you can relate. Or maybe your unfinished manuscript is an abandoned house project, a neglected side gig, or another disregarded dream. Today I want to share an article with you that can give you the extra nudge to keep going—one step at a time.
A Busy Season
In addition to my half-baked novel idea, I also have loads of picture book story drafts. I’d love to publish something beautiful for kids, so I joined the Society for Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI), a international organization whose name is pretty self-explanatory. I’m also part of a fantastic critique group of talented ladies who are in various stages of the writing process. They’re an inspiration and a motivation.
Unfortunately, I’ve been genuinely swamped with building a new house, packing up my current house, homeschooling my son, managing my toddler, and making sure everyone has the food, clothes, fresh air, stories, excursions, and attention they need. Just a day in the life.
Nothing to Critique
So lately I’ve been showing up to my critique group meetings with little or nothing new to share. Am I busy? Sure. Have other successful authors been busier? Absolutely. While my current schedule may prevent me from churning out a full-length masterpiece this month, it doesn’t have to prevent me from writing a few good sentences every day or two. That’s a manageable amount that can add up to a whole story eventually.
And at this stage of my life, it’ll have to be enough.
One More Line
So today I wanted to pass along a short article by author Jonathan Rogers. He shares how training for half-marathons helped him learn the discipline of writing when he doesn’t feel like it. When he doesn’t want to run another mile, he determines to run just as far as the next telephone pole. And then the next and the next. When he doesn’t feel like writing another page, he determines to write the next sentence…and the next and the next.
Rogers cites a book that’s been influential in my writing journey as well: Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. She gives the same suggestion about how to press on when you aren’t very motivated: just do a little bit. And tomorrow, do a little bit more. Just write one inch of decent material—no more and no less. It’s a small thing that can add up to a big thing.
Slow and Steady
So whether you’re struggling to write a book, run a marathon, or organize your stamp collection, I hope today’s post fuels you with the motivation you need. Just tackle it one sentence, one pole, and one stamp at a time.
The finish line is closer than you think.
Rest as an Act of Faith
There are two types of people in the world: those for whom rest is the default setting, and those who see rest as the enemy. And they usually marry each other.
Entropy pulls especially hard on the first type of person. They have big ideas and start projects with an admirable amount of energy. They explode off the starting blocks and are out of sight. But pretty soon, the thought of finishing the race feels daunting. Next thing you know, they’re napping under a shade tree in the company of Aesop’s hare. The race is abandoned, never to be resumed.
Meanwhile, the second person is still going. They’re not the tortoise, though; they’re a different breed of hare, more akin to Alice’s White Rabbit. Spastically scampering here and there, they consult their watches and bemoan how late they are. There’s never enough time to get everything done, even though they haven’t broken pace in 26 weeks, 3 days, and 9 hours. But they’re determined to finish the race or die trying. Most likely the latter.
A Better Way
Is one way superior to the other? While my actions blink like a neon arrow pointing to the second way, my heart knows it isn’t true. But that doesn’t mean the first way is better. Actually, they’re both pretty crummy approaches to life. Want to know the name of a third and better way? It’s called Sabbath.
The Lord of the Sabbath
I’m studying the book of Mark in my morning Bible reading, and I came across a beautiful reminder at the end of chapter two. It says, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. So the Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath.” In context, Jesus was putting some religious leaders in their place about the Sabbath commandment. Without dismissing the importance of the law, Jesus reminded them of its purpose: the Sabbath was made for man.
In other words, Jesus was reminding them that he, of all people, knows the importance of the command to keep the Sabbath day set apart. After all, he was there when the law was made. That’s why he’s also qualified to comment on the purpose of the law. The Sabbath was made for man. For man’s benefit. Because God knew man needed it.
An Example and a Command
What does it mean that the Sabbath was made for man? It means that the God who created our frail little bodies out of dust and breath, who holds us together with the word of his power, who sees exactly how limited we are—this God knew we would need rest. And so he gives us a command to help us.
Furthermore, God himself rested. He created the world in six days and then took a breather on the seventh. Was he exhausted? Nope. But he knew we would be, and so he showed us what it looks like to rest intentionally and regularly. And then, in case we thought it was just a nice idea for someone else, he commanded us all to follow suit.
Obedience Brings Provision
So if proper rest is a command and a necessity, then why is it so hard for us? Because Satan likes to distort all good things, even rest. He bends our hearts toward sloth or frenzy. That’s why Sabbath is really an act of faith. We can truly rest when we believe that our obedience will result in God’s provision.
The Bible is full of evidence that this is true. God proved it in the wilderness when Israel enjoyed leftover manna instead of working to gather more on the Sabbath. He proved it at Jericho when he knocked down the city’s walls on the seventh day while Israel stood by and watched. He proved it at Midian when he dwindled Gideon’s army from 32,000 to 300 and still wiped out the hordes of enemy warriors for them. Again and again God has proven that if we obey him, he will provide—even in the area of rest.
A Way to Thrive
So is God planning to strike me down if I cook a meal or cut the grass on a Sunday? No, I don’t believe so. The point of this passage in Mark is that God cares more about the motivations of our hearts than a set of external, man-made rules. The Pharisees had oodles of specific tasks that people were forbidden to do on the Sabbath, but Jesus refined their understanding of the law’s purpose: it’s not there to threaten us but to help us thrive.
Our hectic laboring and refusal to rest are really a form of self-sabotage. God designed us to work hard and rest purposefully, and when we abuse that design, we can’t flourish. Our refusal to rest is also a way of proclaiming ourselves the lord of the Sabbath. We think we can determine what’s best, but only the Maker has that authority. He has kindly decreed a day of rest for each of us, and we disregard it to our own detriment.
The Final Rest
I don’t know which end of the Aesop’s hare/White Rabbit spectrum you fall on, but I do know the command is the same for all of us: work hard, and then rest in faith. Take heart, my friend. A day of rest is coming for those who love the Lord. When we dwell with the lord of the Sabbath, our hearts will truly be at rest—finally, perfectly, and forever. Let us labor to enter that rest.
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