Three Sisters

Sunday afternoon, I had the opportunity to see Three Sisters. The play was a bit slow in the beginning and I had a hard time getting into the story line, but when I understood what was happening, I really enjoyed it.

The play was, of course, about three sisters and their brother who were all upper class from Moscow. They moved out to the country and ended up not being too happy. The brother got married to a girl who tried to take over everything. She was a brat, to say the least.

Olga, the oldest sister's dream was to hold everything together. She loved her house, being fair to the servants, and taking care of her siblings. She eventually became the headmistress of the school and moved off the property with her nanny. This was a sad, but good decision because her sister in law was so mean.

The middle sister, Masha, married a school teacher who was madly in love with her. I wonder if she was ever in love with him? Over the course of the play, she has an affair with a military officer. This affair made me quite sad because Masha's husband cared for her and was willing to do anything to make the marriage work, but she still chose to turn from him.

Lastly, the younger sister, Irena, always wished for Moscow. She didn't want to make roots in the new town. She received proposals, but she turned them down because she didn't want to be stuck in the country. Finally, she gave in to a man who was madly in love with her and the day before their wedding, he was shot. That is depressing.

This play reminded me again that love takes work. Love is not only about butterfly feelings, it is about strong commitment and dedication. A good marriage has to go past chemistry. Out of the three sisters, I think I like Olga the best. She had a level head on her shoulders and did a great job of being there for everyone. She didn't make any rash decisions about love. Instead, she lived a fulfilling existence by treating people with kindness and by being there for her sisters.

Naomi Shihab Nye

I really enjoyed reading My Father and the Figtree. Although I have not tasted very many figs in my life, and I don't hold a particular affection for them, I understand that they are something special. The father in the poem reminded me of my grandfather. My grandfather grew a garden and always wanted to talk about it with us. This poem made me smile because the father in the poem really loved figs and included them in the bedtime stories that he wrote for his daughter. I found some deeper meaning within this poem. After the girl eats a dried fig, she doesn't really care for it. Her father tells her that she has to eat a fresh, plump one. This kind of reminds me of life in general. Our lives can become dry. We need to hold onto those fig moments; moments where we taste a life that is juicy and full of flavor. I think the fig in this poem is sort of a metaphor for life. The father always wanted to have a fulfilling life and not a dry and boring existence. In the end, that is what he got because he ended up planting the fig tree which was his lifelong dream.

I also really enjoyed reading Arabic Coffee. I greatly enjoy the taste of coffee. I like how Naomi compares drinking coffee to life. The language in these poems is really amazing, but this one in particular stood out to me. She uses really good similes and metaphors. I especially liked the one about dreams being like folded handkerchiefs. I often forget what kind of embroidery is on the inside of my handkerchiefs. That is how my dreams are sometimes: folded and tucked away. A good dream is often that way because the topic is usually something that I remember but not the entire context of everything unless I open it up and dwell on it.

Tiger Flowers

I went to Tiger Flowers Cemetery.

"It is hard to have patience with people who say, 'There is no death' or 'Death doesn't matter.' There is death. And whatever is matters." -C.S. Lewis

My Response to A Grief Observed (Ch. 3-4)

C.S. Lewis makes some pretty profound and radical statements in chapters three and four of A Grief Observed. I found myself especially reading and rereading pages 42 and 43. When he writes, “But oh God, tenderly, tenderly. Already, month by month and week by week you broke her body on the wheel whilst she still wore it. Is it not yet enough?”, I could feel the pain of my grandmother's passing from over ten years ago. She too died of cancer. When the doctors opened her body to remove it, they just sewed it back up, because they found everything was black and full of disease. This is so painfully sad to me that a person should have to go through this kind of suffering in life.

I love thinking of God as a dentist, though. There is so much hope in that. The dentist does good work, but it is often scary to go to a new one, or to get a wisdom tooth extracted for the first time. The pain is there. It is deep and it is strong, but the pain would be much worse if the wisdom tooth was allowed to grow and impact the rest of the teeth inside of the mouth. God knows exactly what He is doing. He is just because if he weren't, he'd be a flake. I don't want to serve a flowery God who is not strong, mighty and in control, or who never requires us to go through suffering.

On page 52, Lewis mentions that the only way for us to realize that our temple is a house of cards is to have it knocked down. I have found this to be true time and time again in my own life. I want my faith to withstand the trials of life. When I find myself wavering and grasping at the sand of my foundation, I know that I have to reevaluate my priorities. There is something terribly serious about this. If I never went through trials, I wouldn't know that I need to dig deeper to find solid ground to build that foundation on. That takes work and blood, sweat, and tears to do.

I love the fact that through all of the trials that Lewis went through, he did not forget or turn away from God. He knew that God had his hand in every single part of the circumstances that he walked through. That gives me hope to know that when I suffer in life, God is always going to be there even if it seems like he is being a tyrant for a few moments. Even if I have to question God and get angry with Him, as Lewis said, just getting that off of our chests and expressing it is therapeutic.

My Response to A Grief Observed (Ch. 1-2)

John and Mary Die.

At some point, everyone is going to die. At least, C.S. Lewis recognizes that there is a God and that a happy life is achievable in some fashion. I did not find Lewis' book depressing, it resonated with who I am. If I look back on the pages of my own journal, I have written similar things. Questioning God is something I actually value. He is so generous that he can be questioned and wrestled with. When Lewis was talking about the cruelty of God putting his son on the cross, I have thought that before. I am also removed from grief at this point in my life, and I know that God did not send his son to die for naught. He had him die for me. There is a time and a season for everything under the sun, as Ecclesiastes says.

Margaret Atwood's “Happy Endings” reminded me a bit of A Grief Observed. I think Atwood was being pretty cynical when she wrote that piece, yet Lewis was dealing with reality. He wrote from a place of experience. I am not saying that Atwood never experienced life, death, or grief, just that there is more to life than the scenarios that she represented. Lewis had a love greater than any happy ending. I don't think anyone can truly have a perfect happy ending. We are all sinners in the hands of an angry God as Jonathan Edwards said.

As I read Lewis' explanation of his feelings regarding H. being in God's hands, I have often thought the same thing. Are God's hands always loving? They are, but I don't think we see the whole picture of what God is doing. I think God only gives us a glimpse of the picture so that we have enough of it in order to have faith and hope. I don't think we could handle all of the reality of God's wonders unless we were no longer human. He is simply too wonderful to contain in human thought. Grief is something that I don't think we can understand no matter how hard we try. It's like Lewis said. We can't really feel someone else's pain even if we've had a very similar experience. Pain is different for everyone because everyone perceives things in their own way and through their own lense of life.

Consuming Fire Painting

Joel 2:5 "With a noise like that of chariots they leap over the mountaintops, like a crackling fire consuming stubble, like a mighty army drawn up for battle."

Images found in Joel

There is so much imagery in the book of Joel. I could see the locusts swarming and the armies assembling from the very beginning. I could have written about almost every verse in the book because it is just so jam packed full of gems. There were three different portions, though, that especially stood out to me. The first one is in chapter two, and it reads:

“With a noise as of chariots

They leap on the tops of the mountains,

Like the crackling of a flame of fire consuming the stubble,

Like a mighty people arranged for battle.”

This “great and mighty people” come alive through the description here. I love that the soldiers don't just jump or run, they leap. This gives more of a sense of quickness to the passage, I think. The soldiers are not just marching to where they need to go, they are making haste even in strenuous parts of their journey. I could also see and hear the army because of the similes used in this portion. I could see the flames of fire which helped me to understand the amount of all consuming people that Joel is referencing here. The army arranged for battle must be fierce to be compared with fire and might. I could see them engulfing an area of land from an aerial view based on Joel's description.

I think it's excellent that even short lines from this book seem to pop with images. In the second example of imagery that I found, Joel describes that, “The pastures of the wilderness have turned green.” I can literally see these pastures turn green in my mind. It is as if one moment they are brown and withered but with just one word from God, they are green. Of course, I don't know if that is how God will do it or not, but that is what came to my mind.

The third and last example of imagery that I loved is the verse that says, “Beat your plowshares into swords and your pruning hooks into spears.” How interesting that common farmers are being instructed to make weapons. I can see them lined up like blacksmiths pounding out their garden tools to use in battle. There really is a lot of good imagery in this book, and I enjoyed looking deeper at it to discover images I had not noticed the first time I read this book through.

Sounds in Joel

I read through this version of the book of Joel a couple of times. The first time I read it, I didn't realize that we were supposed to be looking for sounds, so I just highlighted passages that stuck out to me. After reading our professor's paper over listening to poetry, I reread the book and found a passage that I had already marked and it contains some neat stuff for the ears.
This part where God is explaining the destruction, he does so with such eloquence:

"But I will remove the northern army far from you,
And I will drive it into a parched and desolate land,
And its vanguard into the eastern sea,
And its rear guard into the western sea,
And its stench will arise and its foul smell will come up,
For it has done great things."

I first noticed the consonance in the words far and from. When God says Far From you, those fs seem to emphasize the words themselves. The d sounds in the next line also have a punch and go well with what God is speaking here.
Just in this one paragraph, there is a lot of repetition. The conjunction and is used six times in this portion which, I think, gives a sense of quickness to the writing. As I was reading, I kept wanting to find out what was to be said next. I also noticed how vanguard and rear guard are used after each other. This gives importance to the army and also emphasizes it. The sea is also repeated. These two sentences that end in sea are kind of like bookends. They are full of the same sounds, and they stress the point of what God is saying here: the northern army will be driven from sea to sea, but the land in between will only be left with good strong people.
The letters "ern" were repeated in the words northern, western, and eastern. Even western and eastern sound alike to the ear.
I also like the use of the word stench for some reason. The hardness of the ch sound, the crunching down of the vowel because of the n, and the crispness of the st together all seem to make my brain think of some nasty smell.
All of these sounds bring so much to this little portion of the poetry, and then the last line is so simple. "For it has done great things." God uses so many words that have such beautiful sounds, and then the simplicity of this last line in its sound makeup just give it more emphasis. Sometimes, I think simple is better. If the poem would have continued with more and more similar sounds, it would eventually grown boring and tedious. This line gives the reader a break to pause and reflect over everything in the last stanza.

My Response to A Story About the Body

Hass's story made me angry. The composer was so concerned about the exterior, but he could care less about the inside of a person. It also made me upset that the scene in the story was only taking place after the characters new each other for only a week. He didn't really know the Japanese artist, he just thought he loved her. This saddened me, because this kind of love is only lust, and it will never last. The fact that a young composer was in love with a sixty year old woman kind of grossed me out, too. She was probably old enough to be his mom.

The man made me angry, but the artist asked for it in a way. She flaunted her sexuality for the composer and put herself out there only to reveal that the had a double mastectomy. All the composer ever really noticed was the way she moved and her body. If I were the Japanese woman and if I believed in having premarital affairs, I would never suggest having one after only knowing someone for a week. I would have to know someone pretty well, and by that time, I would probably be able to know their character enough to tell that they were so superficial.

Both of them only seem to care about the surface, and then at the end the woman shows feeling. The bowl of rose petals and bees represents her own body. Perhaps the composer saw the bowl as a freakish bad omen, but I actually loved that she left the bowl. Bees represent something powerful. They are hard workers, and they produce something sweet. Although they sting, they are beautiful creatures and the world would not survive without them. The roses are both beautiful and delicate. I think the Japanese woman is all of these things. I just wish she could find a man who would truly cherish her, but that would take her valuing herself to not just flaunt her body to anyone.

My First Special Blog Post

My New Friend Mr. O'Shea

Clip, clomp, thlack. clip, clomp, thlack. clip, clomp, thlack. I heard the sounds of Mrs. O'Shea padding swiftly down the sidewalk. I looked up and noticed her green imitation pearl earrings. They complemented her floral shirt and mint polyester pants. Of course, she liked green, and often reminded us of her Irish lineage. As she walked, every move was deliberate and exact. Her head was tall and erect, and she looked straight ahead as if on a very important mission.

I heard a little pit, pat walking several feet behind her. As he rounded the corner of the church, he gazed timidly at the ground and walked with a cautious air. His grey hair was swiftly parted on the left, the remains combed over to the side making perfect furrows slicked down by thick hair pomade. He lifted his left hand to brush something from his jacket and I noticed a shimmer of gold from his ring finger.

Mrs. O’Shea turned severely toward the man behind her. She seemed quite annoyed, “Come, now. Come,” Looking toward the door, she added abruptly, “We must not be late for choir practice.”

His simple reply, “Yes, dear,” came from barely audible, parted lips.

Smiling, I held the door open for them as they entered the church's narthex. Mrs. O'Shea, supported by her cane, made her way to the center of the stage at quite a fast clip, and waited for someone to assist her up the steps while the man walked at a slow and steady pace down the side of the sanctuary to approach the bass section from the left side of the platform.

Most of the other choir members had already made their way to the front and were seated in their sections. I walked toward the piano with my stack of music and opened up my hymnal while I waited for Jerry to start the rehearsal. I heard him faintly telling us that it was time to begin. I was wondering which hymn he would choose to begin our rehearsal, and whether I would be familiar with it.

My thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. O'Shea announced, “I'm here, I'm here! I sure hope you didn't start without me. I just tried to get here as fast as I could, but with my leg and all, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to come to practice because this morning when I woke up, the pain was so bad. My whole calf muscle was throbbing, and I tell you, it was simply unbearable. Around 3 o'clock in the afternoon,--”

“Excuse me,” Jerry, the choir director said quietly.

Mrs. O'Shea continued, “Well, I finally started to feel some relief when I took some medicine, but I sat in my easy chair for a couple of hours anyway until Wheel of Fortune came on, and then I decided that I was well enough to make an appearance tonight.”

“Ahem, Excuse me,” this time, a little louder, came the director's voice from the podium.

Still, Mrs. O'Shea went on, “I am so glad that you all haven't started yet. I don't know what I would've done.” Each word came forth from her mouth like a bad leaky faucet. She smiled, and as I thought she never would, turned her head toward Jerry.

“Why don't we all rise and turn to hymn 209, All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name, for a warm up,” he said. I could tell that he was attempting to have a cheerful countenance despite the one-sided conversation that Mrs. O'Shea just had down in the front row of the alto section.

I was familiar enough with the tune that as I played along with the singing, I couldn't help but notice how the bass section had improved over the past several weeks since Mrs. O'Shea joined our little group. We came to the end of the hymn and everyone sat down and exchanged grins and small talk for a moment until Jerry lightly tapped his podium.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Why don't we have a word of prayer before we put the finishing touches on our Easter music. Does anyone have any prayer requests?”

Mrs. O'Shea raised her hand immediately and blurted, “Yes, John Davis is in the hospital with bronchitis. He was out playing with the children without a jacket on. I'm sure we all know how that can be with spring almost over,” she paused sympathetically. Jerry lifted his pen as he was about to speak, but Mrs. O’Shea went on. “You don't even really notice how bad it is out, and it only takes one time to not wear your jacket to make you end up in the hospital with bronchitis. Anyway,” she continued without breathing, “I spoke with John's wife and they're putting him on antibiotics in case there is an infection. They upped his asthma medication, too, so he should be on the mend shortly,” she guessed.

“Alright,” Jerry muttered, “Mr. Davis,” He said as he scribbled on a slip of paper. “Are there any other requests?”

“Oh, I have one, please,” Miss Shepherd raised her hand and was acknowledged by Jerry with a head nod. “Please be in prayer for my sister, Mary. We just found out that she and her husband are expecting their first child!”

“What exciting news!” Jerry exclaimed, “I can't believe you kids are all grown up now.”

Mrs. O'Shea exclaimed out of turn, “Oh, that reminds me! My nephew, Nathan, and his girlfriend just got pregnant and they aren't married yet. I would like to pray for comfort since Nathan only works at the drugstore down the street and his girlfriend is really young. I am not sure if their relationship is going to make it or not so we need to pray for them and the baby.”

“Thank you--”

“Oh, and one more,” Mrs. O'Shea added, “Please pray for my leg. You know, I had Polio as a child and ever since, it's been giving me trouble. This cane really hasn't been doing much for me anymore and I've just been feeling so fatigued. I can't get around very well anymore and there really isn't anyone around to help me, and...”

“OK, I will pray for your leg,” Jerry said curtly. I could tell that he was growing more impatient. “Let's bow our heads to the Lord...”

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Sunday morning service came all too fast. I arrived at the church early and sipped a cup of coffee from the hospitality table as I looked over the hymns. In came Mrs. O'Shea and the man, this time they walked side by side.

“Can you please help me up the steps,” Mrs. O'Shea said to him.

“Yes, dear,” he replied.

Over the next few minutes, I got preoccupied in preparing my music, and then I chatted with a few friends before the service began. All of the choir members were up on the platform, so we did a quick sound check before it was time for me to begin the prelude music.

Just as I was about to begin playing, I noticed Mrs. O'Shea approaching the piano. “Hello,” she said to me. “How was your week?”

“Oh, it was a pretty full week, but good, thanks,” I replied as I busied myself, turning the pages of my spiral-bound prelude book.

“Did you do anything special?” She asked.

“Well,” I said, “I got a new piano student, but other than that, nothing too out of the ordinary.”

“Oh, my granddaughter just started taking piano. She has only been playing for four months and she is so talented that the teacher had to move her up to the second book from the very beginning.” Sighing, she continued, “She is taking from Young Cha over at the college. It took a lot of convincing for my daughter to get that lady to take her. With how special our little Elizabeth is, we couldn't let her take piano from just anyone, you know,” Mrs. O'Shea explained.

“I understand,” I said as I managed a slight grin, “I am sorry but I need to get started on my prelude music. It was nice speaking with you.”

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The Easter service was going well. We were in the middle of our third and final piece, a solo sung by Jerry entitled Watch the Lamb. It was not my imagination that the bass section had improved. As the choir backed Jerry up with Oohs and Aahs, I was quite certain that I could pick out one distinct bass voice in particular, and he was sensational.

As the audience applauded, Pastor made his way to the podium to pray over the offering. While our heads were bowed, I heard a rustling noise. I looked up and noticed that Mrs. O'Shea was frantically searching under her seat for something. She stood and walked swiftly down the steps to her usual pew and grabbed her purse. She must have forgotten her tithe, I thought, and then I noticed it.

Her cane was propped against her chair in the alto section.

I eyed it and as I turned my head back toward my music in an attempt to contain my surprise, I noted a certain bass singer as he rolled his eyes at Mrs. O'Shea's turned back.

Finally, I knew his secret. Mr. O'Shea actually has a personality. We can be friends. I inwardly giggled.

This Blessed House- A second look

Sanjeev is of Indian decent so he probably has dark hair, eyes, and skin. Aside from this, we are told that he has really long eyelashes and plump cheeks, and is an average build. He is 33 years old. He is currently in charge of 12 employees at an engineering firm in Hartford, Connecticut. There isn't anything in the story that indicates the way that Sanjeev normally dresses. He probably dresses to fit in, though, with the way that he is juxtaposed with Twinkle who wears leopard print heals. Judging by his personality, I can imagine that he is well-put together and cares about what others think, so I don't think he would be a sloppy dresser. We also know that Sanjeev is a graduate of MIT, and that his family still lives in India. I think that he is still more into his Indian roots than Twinkle. He is also probably a good cook and spends his weekends making curry because Twinkle doesn't want to be bothered.

From various incidents in the story, I see Sanjeev as a kind of Jesus character. He marries this girl who is a smoker, doesn't seem to take care of her body, and does whatever she wants, yet he still puts up with her. It's kind of like Christ and the church. He is concerned about her when she screams in the yard because she finds the Madonna statue. Other interesting facts that support this idea is that he has twelve employees under him and he is 33 years old. He also cleans up Twinkle's ashes just as Christ turns our beauty into ashes.

I don't want to go too far with this Christ analogy, though because I also see several flaws in Sanjeev's character. He does get pretty annoyed at Twinkle on several occasions. He wishes that he would have married one of the other suitors that was suggested by his parents. He even wishes that he were taller. He's pretty concerned about the opinions and views of others, and doesn't want people to see all of the Jesus memorabilia that Twinkle holds so dear.

Something that I really appreciate about Sanjeev is that even though he seems quite annoyed on several occasions, he holds his tongue. He doesn't lash out at all of Twinkle's free-spirited moments. When Twinkle finds the poster with the peanut-sized tears, Sanjeev first tells her that it can't stay in their home, but he does let Twinkle compromise. I also thought that it was really adorable that he saved Twinkle's ashes while they were courting until the next time she came to visit. It was like he had to leave a little piece of her with him.

I think that Sanjeev would like a typical Indian marriage where the wife stays at home, cooks and cleans, and basically says yes to everything that he says. At the same time, he is an educated man, and I think that Twinkle is a good challenge for his rigid and analytical personality. She helps him to stop and smell the roses. Although he might miss certain aspects of having a traditional Indian wife, I think it might just make him bored. Staying with Twinkle will be work, but I think she is worth the work because she respects herself, thinks for herself, and has her own educated opinions and ideas about life. Perhaps she can get Sanjeev to not be so stuck in a rut all of the time.