Lo and behold, this was last night's devotional:

“And straightway He constrained His disciples to get into the ship and row to the other side…” Mark 6:45-52

We are apt to imagine that if Jesus Christ constrains us, and we obey Him, He will lead us to great success. We must never put our dreams of success as God’s purpose for us; His purpose may be exactly the opposite. We have an idea that God is leading us to a particular end, a desired goal; He is not. The question of getting to a particular end is a mere incident. What we call the process, God calls the end.

What is my dream of God’s purpose? His purpose is that I depend on Him and on His power now. If I can stay in the middle of the turmoil calm and unperplexed, that is the end of the purpose of God. God is not working towards a particular finish; His end is the process—that I see Him walking on the waves, no shore in sight, no success, no goal, just the absolute certainty that it is all right because I see Him walking on the sea. It is the process, not the end, which is glorifying to God.

God’s training is for now, not presently. His purpose is for this minute, not for something in the future. We have nothing to do with the afterwards of obedience; we get wrong when we think of the afterwards. What men call training and preparation, God calls the end.

God’s end is to enable me to see that He can walk on the chaos of my life just now. If we have a further end in view, we do not pay sufficient attention to the immediate present: if we realize that obedience is the end, then each moment as it comes is precious.

Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

rpcna international conference 2008, calvin college, grand rapids, michigan

Now Playing: Ralph Vaughan-Williams, "The Lark Ascending", performed by Hilary Hahn.

Once again I'm doing a poor job of posting during a month.

I'm in the midst of an intense game of Scrabble on Facebook with Philip. To use a questionable word or not to use a questionable word, that is the question.... It doesn't have quite the same ring.

Laura just came parading in to show off her newly-straightened hair. She and Sarah have been and will be thick as thieves all week, busy rearranging the Spitlers' house for their return from Scotland on Thursday.

So we returned from the RPCNA international conference on Saturday. To my sheer delight, there was a box from Emmaline waiting for me on my bed, as I was informed by Anna's dissertation-length note left on our dining room table. Laura, commenting as I type, "She sent you potato chips?" Me: "Salt and vinegar crisps." Laura: "You're funny, E--." And now she's enthralled by the cookbook one of Claire's aunts gave me for Christmas.

There is no way to present the conference in its full glory. It was an encouraging time for me, rich, peaceful, not in a fireworks sort of way, but like the slow movement of a Beethoven symphony.

(Now Laura is cooing over the wee cat bookmark Emmaline and the Empire Drive girls gave me from Prague. Little sisters...! Just so the world knows, the cat's name is Percival, appropriate, given the proud crook of its tiny pewter tail.)

Part of the mixture was humor, provided amply by Christa ("I'm a man!" as she stooped over my hand and kissed it in a moment of purely Christa-ish hyper dramatic ridiculousness) and Emily ("Cake patter is difficult for me," as she tried to understand why they didn't have cake batter flavored ice cream every evening). Also by Sarah B. from Armagh, who kept me on my toes with her slagging--I'm already getting slow from being around the very different style of American humor.

Another part was the richness of fellowship with people I haven't seen and probably won't see for four more years: Laura S., Anjali, Corinne, Kathryn P., Emily G., and others. From conversations with some of these, combined with the excellent morning lectures in the series "Meeting Christ in Life", particularly the lectures on worship and Heaven, I relearned some of the truths I'd discovered in Belfast, of which I desperately needed to be reminded. About Christ being our home, about the importance of memorizing Scripture, about the primacy of our relationship with Christ above all other relationships.

The singing during the worship times was absolutely beautiful. I was always reminded of Emmaline and her love of singing, and took new delight in singing the Psalms in the presence of the Lord.

Speaking of Northern Irish friends, one of the girls from Daphne's small group Bible study, which met in Renwick during the spring semester, was at the conference. She's not RP but flew over to help with Whitelake (the same RPM team that Elizabeth is doing, as it turns out), and the conference was included in the fare. On Saturday, as Sarah and I were going downstairs to get our room keys, we ran into this girl, Sarah B., on the stairs coming up. I was wearing my Ireland jersey. Sarah B. and I stopped, stared at each other in recognition, and started to speak to each other, and from then on, Sarah B. was fast friends with "us". It was wonderful to have a familiar face from that world interacting with the friends on this side of the ocean, to share the little quirks and idiosyncrasies, to slag each other off, to have her join the mutual encouragement and discussion.

During the conference, I was able to lead a college discussion group in the morning and help out with recreation for the little kids in the afternoons. The college group took a field trip to Lake Michigan on Tuesday, where we spent the afternoon. A squall blew up halfway through the afternoon. While everyone else fled from the white beach to the shelter of the trees, Joel and Gregg S., from Lisburn RPC, stayed on the beach and blissfully played frisbee in the rain.

Thursday night, David W., formerly from Trinity RPC, hosted an Irish barn dance in a car park for the college group. Highschoolers and adults showed up as well so that by the end of the night there were probably about two hundred people dancing strip-the-willow in perhaps fifteen different sets around the car park. Everyone was incredibly hot and sweaty, but, undeterred, as soon as the dance was over, the students from Geneva College set up an impromptu swing dance in the basement of the college dorm.

In the midst of all this: I suppose most people have probably experienced what it feels like to have one idea or problem dominating one's mind, overshadowing every conversation, every activity, every moment of worship. It happens to me occasionally and has been the undertone to my whole summer so far. Everywhere I turn, I'm reminded of it. When I stared out the window on the long road trip, I was thinking about it; when I lay down to sleep, it was in my last prayers of the night. From some people I've been getting the sense that I'm not grieving enough over this particular issue, but just because it's not crashing cymbals every moment doesn't mean that it's not the bass line permeating everything else.

And yet this past week, especially with this new, more vivid awareness of the Psalms, I've at the same time been brought to a more vivid awareness of God's character as Savior. A couple of weeks ago I "stole" Anna's copy of Perelandra to browse through and was reminded of God's ability to display His character differently through different means. From singing the Psalms I've come to understand more deeply that in our world He primarily manifests Himself as Savior.
The greatest peace comes from the truth that He saves us not only from sin but from its every aspect, from all the problems that arise in this life. The promises to give wisdom, to hear and respond, to deliver us so that we can praise Him fill Scripture. Psalm 9 in particular has been on my mind with its rich interplay of cry for present deliverance and praise for past aid.

"The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed,
a stronghold in times of trouble.
And those who know Your name put their trust in You,
for You have not forsaken those who seek You."

I am thankful for the past week, even for this almost consuming thought, because of the opportunity it has presented and will present for God to display His glory.

Laura is busy copying recipes out of the Spitlers' cookbooks before she returns them tomorrow. Even if she can stay awake for the rest of the night writing about bread and cookies, I cannot.

going away

Now Playing: An MP3 recording of the Renwick House Psalm sing on 1 May 2008.

Tomorrow we leave for the international conference in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We've all been busy getting ready today. Laura just finished cleaning out the guinea pig's cage. While she was cleaning it, she let the guinea pig run around the schoolroom, where I'm sprawled on the floor with my laptop. Once it worked up enough courage, the wee animal took a rather over-enthusiastic interest in my laptop, which is now embellished with some little tooth marks round the edges.

Thus far this week I've fixed tea twice. Despite my siblings' and friends' slagging, I insist on that name for the last main meal of the day. We've been trying to eat up all the food, as usual before going on a trip. Of course, it didn't help that Laura and Anna went peach picking with Stephanie and her little ones on Tuesday, returning back here with a big plastic bucket full of peaches. They have been really good, though, fresh and ripe and juicy. I ate two at lunch after work today.

Philip, Anna, and I have been sharing music. Or rather, they two have been sharing theirs with me. Philip insists that I listen to Louis Armstrong. I'm skeptical, not having much of a taste for jazz beyond Norah Jones. Appreciating the technical acumen and actually liking it are two completely different things.

On Tuesday, I ended up talking with both Catherine and Emmaline. Catherine and I were in a Facebook chat for about an hour-and-a-half; Emmaline and I talked on the phone for a solid two hours despite her need to go to bed and my need to eat my tea. (According to her, she already was in bed; she just wasn't asleep.) Wonderful to talk to them both--but hard, too, because afterward, of course, I just missed them more.

It reminds me of the Mississippi kites haunting the skies right now. When the wind is strong and variable in the morning and afternoon, they veer and shiver, their wings and tails constantly shifting and tipping. Later in the evening, when the air is more still, they catch steady updrafts and glide motionless in long ascending arcs across the blue sky. I prefer the second, an equilibrium between the images pushing against my eyes and accents echoing in my ears and the actual scenes and voices around me, but only the Lord can maintain that.

Anna has been living with us this week, which has been good fun. With her here and Philip and Laura back from their trips, the house has actually been full for a change. We haven't done a whole lot so far, work schedules keeping things crazy. Yesterday we went down to visit Stephanie for awhile, though, and on Tuesday we went to Aspen with Philip and Laura. One night we discovered that she's allergic to relativism (it makes her cough). Speaking of her, she should be back from work soon, which means that I ought to go and be sociable.

touring tulsa

Now Playing: "Don't Panic" by Coldplay.

11 July 2008, afternoon and evening.

At about half three, after Stephen finished his organ practice at the First Presbyterian Church, we assembled at our house, "we" being my father's parents and his brother's family--i.e., Grandma and Grandpa N, Uncle Edd, Aunt Nancy, and Mary Beth--as well as my parents, Stephen, and I. My parents, Stephen, Aunt Nancy, and I rode in our minivan, and the others followed in my grandparents' Buick as we got on the highway. We took one of our sets of walkie-talkies, which my dad and Stephen mostly used for sending dry insults to Uncle Edd about his driving abilities.

The afternoon was hot and sunny, driving through open green places gilded with coreopsis until the land began to rise into the foothills of the Ozarks around Tulsa. Kites and vultures were veering on rising columns of heat.

In Tulsa, we took a brief drive around the grounds of the Gilcrease Museum. Then we got back on the highway and drove to the University of Tulsa. We drove down Delaware, where the construction has been completed. The campus looks alright, though the trees have suffered considerably from ice storms, particularly the beautiful oak tree outside Lottie, whose perfect crown has now become a random collection of skinny limbs.

We drove down Delaware to 15th, over to Lewis, down to 21st, and drove around Utica Square. This area of Tulsa is a magnificently wealthy place, medical centre and office towers rising elegantly over broad streets, buildings with red tiled roofs, big planters full of fluorescent impatiens, sweet potato vines, and petunias. Utica Square is the main shopping area, a tangle of fancy shops built low under huge old oak trees, the selection including Abercombie & Fitch, American Eagle, Talbot's, Russell Stover, Sacks Fifth Avenue, and so on.

From there we went on down 21st to Woodward Park. Here we got out and walked around a bit. The rose gardens looked wilted and dried, the bushes gone leggy and bare in the heat, the flowers small and spotted with sunburn. The dark pools, where usually lilies grow, were stretches of bare black water, and heat beat up into our faces from the sidewalks.

We drove down 21st to Peoria, and from there to the Philbrook. The neighborhood around the Philbrook is beautiful, pristine old houses surrounded by lavish lawns. Then we turned around and went back to 15th, where we settled ourselves at Hideaway for tea.

Hideaway in Tulsa has the same 1960s flavor as the Hideaway in Stillwater. Uncle Edd and my father, with huge grins, recognized famous songs by "Yes" and other bands playing in the background. Brightly-colored kites hung from the ceiling. I sat at the other end of the table with my father, Uncle Edd, Aunt Nancy, and Mary Beth. Uncle Edd gave me plenty of advice about applying for graduate school, gave me names of English professors at Westmont College where he teaches, talked about his trip to China, etc., all in a very friendly fashion. We chatted with Mary Beth about her work and with Aunt Nancy about the school where she teaches. The pizza was good, and gone quickly.

From Hideaway we drove back to the University of Tulsa. My father stayed in the car in the shade with Grandma while the rest of us walked around campus a little bit. It was strange to be on campus again, to see the changes, to see it so empty. We were the only ones in sight. Many of the trees had been ruined. To the north of the library the parking lot has been torn out and the path to ACAC blocked by construction; by Kep, the parking lot has been torn up there to make way for a new engineering building. Of course the apartment construction continues on the south side of campus.

From Tulsa, everyone except Uncle Edd, my father, and I drove back to Stillwater in the minivan. The three of us drove down to 15th Street Coffeeshop. It has changed only a little bit--new artwork on the walls, more furniture. Tara was working behind the counter. She smiled at us as we came in, looked at me again, then lit up. We stood and chattered away happily while my father and Uncle Edd decided what to order. We ordered cold drinks and sat at a little table by the French doors. I had iced Earl Grey tea.

We sat and talked about academics and church life. Then Nicole wandered in. Awhile after that, Kathryn, her mother, Jenny, and Spencer came in. Introductions all round.

The three of us had to leave at quarter past nine to pick Laura up from the airport. She flew back from Pittsburgh tonight. We said good-byes and drove to the airport, arriving just in time. Her flight had just come in. We stood at the gate, peering through the crowd of people coming down the long hallway, until Laura came into sight. We picked up her baggage and drove back to Stillwater. On the drive back, Laura fell asleep; Uncle Edd, my father, and I talked politics. A brilliant half moon shone on the blank fields. Uncle Edd left us at our house, then drove the grandparents' Buick back to theirs. Laura went straight to bed.

highlights from this week

Now Playing: "In the Quiet Morning" by Joan Baez, stuck in my head thanks to Philip.

Spending most of Tuesday afternoon and evening with Anna and going to watch Prince Caspian with her. Seeing a shooting star on Tuesday night, lancing the dark sky between the other stars.

Finding messages from friends in N.I. waiting for me in my e-mail when I got back from work Wednesday night.

Eating tea at the Fs' house Thursday night after going to see Wall-E, and getting to talk to Leah and Brioni, two people who can be difficult to get ahold of.

Actually having stuff to do at work on Thursday: a huge lunch rush, and then listening to music on my MP3 player while I washed the resulting dishes--instead of listening to whatever random songs the other employees have on their MP3 players. One day one of the guys played some Regina Spektor, which was interesting. She sings one of the songs on the new Prince Caspian soundtrack. I like the way she sounds mostly, but the lyrics are questionable.

Spending most of the day yesterday with Elizabeth, sitting on the stone wall at Boomer Lake most of the afternoon, laughing about our separate worlds, bringing things a little bit closer together, daydreaming about our ideal houses--hardwood floors, glass, suncatchers, big windows, painted walls for both of us--and about some serious things.

Watching stars come out in Enid yesterday evening, lying on a blanket on a gravelly hillside in the crowded park, waiting for the fireworks display to begin.

Coming back from the Farmers' Market with my mother this morning with a big sack full of produce--cantaloupe, peaches, onions, green beans, cherry tomatoes, and the like.

One more: Rediscovering my love of Calvin and Hobbes, to the neglect of my textbook on intertextuality. Intertextuality may be very interesting, but Calvin and Hobbes sure is a lot funnier (and sometimes even more profound...! *cough*).

1 july 2008

Now Playing: Harry Gregson-Williams, The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian soundtrack, Track 10, "Battle at Aslan's How" (an egregious spelling error, if I may say so--it ought to be "howe", not "how").

Before I begin, matters of my new dominion concern me. *Ahem* For those who have applied, we are sure that suitable posts will be discovered fitting to their gifts and abilities. The queen must be diplomatic and careful not to be too hasty in such matters (a hint of Entishness would, perhaps, be appropriate in so weighty an office). Secretary of Defense has been granted to the one who has petitioned it, and as for the F cousins, who certainly are not "lesser" members of the family, but whose placement required further consideration: R at least should share office with P, and perhaps A would like to be involved in a similar employment. Petr can be Secretary of State, if he likes, and go around making long speeches and debating with people. The three girls... well, they and L always like to do things as a "swarm", if we may be permitted the expression. :o)

The new administration requires further time to ponder the other positions still vacant in its government, but we hope to keep these as few as possible so that the new government does not reach the deplorable position of the old one with its multiplication of bureaucracy.

Now on to a more serious blog post....

1 July 2008. After lunch, M went out; S and I left at the same time, he to practice the organ, me to pick up ALF from the Fs’ house so that we can go watch Prince Caspian together in OKC. The afternoon was hot and sunny. We listened to Chris Thile, “Not All Who Wander Are Lost”, in the car. ALF told me the story of her ridiculous morning, in which a stalled car and four squirrelly siblings figured prominently and kept both of us laughing. I asked her about the CY retreat last week. We got to Quail Springs Mall at about three o’clock and so had about half-an-hour to kill before the film began. We walked around the mall, laughing at the odd fashions in one of the department stores, sneezing at the perfumes, admiring the sparkly jewelry. We went to the cinema early anyway and so had plenty of time to sit and make fun of the previews before the film began.

In some ways it was better the second time: as always, I noticed new things; and I liked Prince Caspian’s and Edmund’s characters more fully the second time. Both of us thoroughly enjoyed it, and discussed it, of course, as we drove back to Stillwater. We stopped at the exit for Guthrie, at Braum’s, for tea.

When we got back on the road, we chatted about music, Coldplay mostly, and ALF told me funny stories about her siblings, and talked about Dr. Who and Robin Hood. Evening was sinking from the sickly hot blaze of late afternoon to the cool dusty periwinkle blue and violet of dusk. We talked about books. As we pulled into the Fs’ road, we could see Ben, Greg, Fric, and Frac scampering about in the front yard. The hooligans threatened to board the ship, but I kept driving and turned round at the end of their narrow road, and parked in the ditch near their house. ALF and I sat in the car, talking, with the doors locked, to prevent the pirates from coming aboard. Said pirates made off about their own business. Mr. F came outside to put the pirates through their paces and then dispatch them indoors. Ben flashed the dining room lights at us, but we ignored him.

We were finishing our discussion about books and plans for the summer when Mr. F and ECF, who had gone on a prayer walk together, came walking back across the quiet yard through the dim. We went inside with them. I ended up sitting in the living room on the floor with the entire F compliment of children to entertain me: ECF sitting to my left on the floor with her long legs stretched out in front of her, giggling hilariously at her siblings and squirming because of Greg’s rather painful antics; Greg ensconced in the “royal throne”, a massive (and ugly) upholstered armchair in the corner, putting on a show for us of his gymnastic abilities, which included walking on his knees, turning his feet inside, turning his arms inside out, etc.,; Ruth, stretched in the laz-y-boy part of the sofa, deep in Christy, appearing only occasionally to chuckle quietly at whatever was going on around her; Ben, in the middle corner of the sofa, presiding over the entertainment with his henchman, Greg, egging Greg on and telling ridiculous stories, with the help of Dani, who sat next to ALF on the remainder of the sofa, the two girls leaning on each other. CVF paraded in and out, asking me to play a game with her; COF strode around the room, swinging a broken lamp on the end of a wire, pretending it was a grenade, until he settled himself on the futon directly behind my head. CVF and COF were sent to bed fairly soon, but the rest of the squirrelly bunch stayed on. Ben, Greg, and Dani were full of silly stories, assisted by ALF, about the skink the boys had caught that evening (“It bit Greg, so Papa said, ‘Hmm, must be a female!’”), about ridiculous old sci fi movies they’d watched, about Dr. Who, about monsters, etc. ECF and I sat and laughed and laughed, glanced at each other every so often, and laughed more.

Mr. F finally joined the party. He evicted Greg from the “throne” and told Dani and the boys to go to bed. They tumbled off the sofa and sprawled on the floor, and it took some persuading to get them to go to their beds. After they left, Mr. Fisher, Ruth, ALF, ECF, and I sat around for a little while longer. Mr. F asked for a story from N.I., so I told one that kept everyone laughing; then he told a story about his drive back from CA this past weekend, on which a tire had blown out on the trailer they’d been hauling, and the spare had been locked inside the trailer, setting off an interesting train of events.

I finally left at about half ten, with jolly good nights all round. Outside, the evening was cool and clear. Tipping my chin up, I stared into the face of the sky overhead, scattered with pale summer stars. I drove back home very happy, listening to Dvorak’s Serenade for Strings with the windows down and the sound of the tall grass rushing through the windows. After I switched off the engine in the driveway, I stood outside for a little while. Fireflies were flashing in the deep blackness of the oak trees behind the house, and overhead the stars seemed brighter. Indoors, M was waiting up for D, who was still away at a session meeting. I said good-night to her, took a shower, and was in bed by half eleven.