Photos from last weekend are here.

Last weekend, Laura and I went to Chicago, a celebration of the end of the summer. We spent a lovely afternoon walking around downtown, especially Millennium Park. We met Anna R. for tea, went into Anthropologie, and visited the Art Museum, which was closed. That didn't make the lions outside any more impressive, or diminish the loveliness of the gardens as evening fell.

Scott, Eric, Laura, and I hiked to the waterfall at McCormick's Creek State Park this evening. Then we went to Mother Bear's for pizza and the Chocolate Moose for ice cream. A good way to celebrate the end of summer.

Now Playing: Mumford and Sons, "After the Storm."

It's moments of clarity and peace that I've come to value as most precious. Over the past year or so, fear and anxiety have never been very far away, and with them, the obstruction of God's grace that inevitably arises from sin. I become so anxious about the details of day-to-day life that anxiety frosts over God's providences, which ought to be windows onto His love and grace.

Case in point: in May, when the schoolyear finished and summer began, when Lisa and I found ourselves launched immediately into French classes, I was desperate for quiet. For time to reflect, to meditate, to pray, to be alone. The changes of the past year have been overwhelming--as wonderful as they've been in many ways--and I felt the compulsion to run and retreat from everything in order to get my head around what God had been doing.

But that desire for being alone only lead to more anxiety. I worshiped the moments of solitude I had and worried and fretted because I couldn't have more of them. Because I was worshiping solitude, not God, I couldn't it properly.

This week, though, I've suddenly, unexpectedly found that time given to me. I woke up on Monday to an empty house, and again this morning. This morning I cleaned the kitchen, baked scones, ate a scone and part of a peach for breakfast, drank tea, read some of Murder Must Advertise. And realized--as I'd known quite clearly all along, even back in May in the worst of it--that the anxiety was completely unnecessary. God knew when and where to give the time.

Now as I look forward to next week, when AI (Associate Instructor) orientation starts, I'm seeking the grace to keep God's love first in my mind and heart. Psalm 62:8, "Trust in Him at all times, o people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us."

Also this morning I read Psalm 105:1-6,
               "Oh give thanks to the Lord; call upon His name; make known His deeds among the peoples!
               Sing to Him, sing praises to Him; tell of all His wondrous works!
               Glory in His holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice!
               Seek the Lord and His strength; seek His presence continually!
               Remember the wondrous works that He has done, His miracles, and the judgments He uttered, o offspring of Abraham, His servant, children of Jacob, His chosen ones!"

I'm to be defined by these actions: give thanks, call, make known, sing, glory, rejoice, seek, remember. No mention of being perfect, of managing every detail of life smoothly, of being obedient or righteous. That goes against my grain. I'm supposed to be a "good little Christian girl", after all. 

In Christ there's no such thing. There are only children of Jacob--"worm Jacob," as God calls His people in Isaiah, to remind them that they're completely worthless and helpless on their own. So I'm to do what the Confession calls faith: receive and rest. And I do that by these actions, these actions that build my identity as a child of Abraham, who walked by faith. Faith in a Savior who has done it all for me.

Now Playing: Psalm 13B.

We're having communion tonight in Bloomington. A couple of appropriate quotes:

But Christ took all our sins upon him, and for them died upon the cross: therefore it behoved that he should become a transgressor, and (as Isaiah saith, chap. 53) ‘to be reckoned among transgressors.’ And this, no doubt, all the prophets did foresee in spirit, that Christ should become the greatest transgressor, murderer, adulterer, thief, rebel, blasphemer, etc. that ever was or could be in all the world. For he being made a sacrifice for the sins of the whole world, is not now an innocent person and without sins, is not now the Son of God born of the Virgin Mary; but a sinner, which hath and carrieth the sin of Paul, who was a blasphemer, an oppressor and a persecutor; of Peter, which denied Christ; of David, which was an adulterer, a murderer, and caused the Gentiles to blaspheme the name of the Lord: and briefly, which hath and beareth all the sins of all men in his body, that he might make satisfaction for them with his own blood.  -  Martin Luther, commentary on Galatians 3:13

Yet the duties God requires of us are not in proportion to the strength we possess in ourselves. Rather, they are proportional to the resources available to us in Christ. We do not have the ability in ourselves to accomplish the least of God’s tasks. This is a law of grace. When we recognize it is impossible for us to perform a duty in our own strength, we will discover the secret of its accomplishment. But alas, this is a secret we often fail to discover.  -  John Owen, Sin & Temptation

Now Playing: Sufjan Stevens, "Amazing Grace."

Elizabeth visited yesterday. We sat outside on the back porch for an hour or so, and she told me all about the RPM team to Covenant Fellowship that she's been leading for the last month-and-a-half. Lots of great stories about inner-city Pittsburgh people...! Scott cooked dinner for us, and then he, Laura, Elizabeth, and I walked down to the Chocolate Moose for ice cream. We met a bunch of people there--Mary, Mallory, Eric, and Olivia--and sat in the park with our ice cream, by a fountain, under the brilliant three-quarters moon. Elizabeth and I talked all about Cyprus.

Today the weather is still cool and clear. It feels as though I'm back up at Horn Creek, or in Northern Ireland on one of its best days. A green hummingbird keeps visiting the zinnias on our back porch. It zooms up to look in the back door, then zooms to the zinnias, then to the lantanas, its tail scintillating as it hovers.

Tonight we're watching TTT EE and eating Chinese food! Ah, these final lovely days of summer.... I finished Have His Carcase earlier this week and started Excellent Women, a novel written in the 1950s by a British novelist, Barbara Pym, and recommended to me by Syneva. It's a bittersweet read, told from the perspective of a single middle-aged woman in the shadow of WWII. Like Jane Austen, but more melancholy.

Thunderstorm tonight to the northeast of us. No rain for our house, though.

Now Playing: Bach, Mass in B minor, "Gloria/gratias agimus tibi propter."

Photos from this past weekend and yesterday are in this album again.

Yesterday we had another poetry dinner, this time out at Scott's house. Eric grilled Mexican carne asada for us, and the rest of us chipped in. It was a delightfully colorful meal: a peach-and-spinach salad from Mary with purple onions in it, red and green peppers and onions on the grill, grilled corn-on-the-cob, guacamole, pico de gallo, and of course a ridiculous spicy salsa that Eric concocted. Never had anything so intense in my life! It tasted smoky, but perhaps that's only because it was slowly sizzling the lining of my mouth away.

That was appropriate, though, since the theme of our evening was fire. Scott read a tongue-in-cheek story about romantic passion by a Victorian author, Lord Dunsany; Cindy contributed along the same theme, with a reading of the lyrics to Cash's "Ring of Fire." I took it in another direction and blazed through the passage in The Hobbit in which Thorin and Co. are trapped in the pine trees by wargs and goblins. Eric and Lisa both wrote poems for the occasion, which kept us in stitches.

Highlights from this past week:

Meeting Mary's sister, Emily, at the party Mary hosted for her on Thursday.

A summer festival orchestra concert on Friday night at the IU auditorium. The program included the William Tell overture, The Pines of Rome, and Beethoven's 7th symphony. Absolutely gorgeous. I love the second and third movements of The Pines of Rome in particular, with the second movement's evocation of the catacombs and third movement's liquid, languid clarinet solo. Of course the Beethoven was stunning. The second movement of that symphony is almost enough to move one to tears. This time I found a new appreciation for the first and third movements, though; it was as though some huge, shining, overjoyed creature had escaped from backstage and come romping out into the concert hall.

Spending Saturday afternoon at Oliver winery with Scott, sitting on a blanket under maple trees, and reading part of The Story of the Champions of the Round Table and the first Father Brown mystery ("The Blue Cross"). His first introduction to G.K. Chesterton, whose inimitable style really shines in those short mysteries.

Later on Saturday, celebrating Eric's birthday by going out for sushi and then retiring to our house afterward to watch the extended Fellowship of the Ring with our (appropriately numbered) group of nine--Eric, Scott, Mary, Malory, Emily (Mary's sister), Lisa, Laura, Cindy, and me. We tried out mochi ice cream as a treat halfway through the long film.

And even though today is part of this week, not last week, seeing Uncle Scott and Aunt Anna at church today was definitely a highlight! The sort of lovely people who really communicate the love and joy of Christ, even as they prepare to return to hard work in the year ahead.

Now Playing: The Decemberists, "The King Is Dead."

Today has been blissfully peaceful as far as summer days go. I got up to run and listen to a sermon by Pastor D about the beginning of Ephesians 5, loving people. Later on, I had the chance to talk to both my parents, which was good.

This morning I managed to finish a chapter of French before lunch: imperfect, passe anterieur, more faire clauses, and so on. Lisa left for class at about noon. I baked peach scones, cleaned the house a bit while they were in the oven, and then spent the afternoon working on an article about a play for a database. Somehow I managed to finish a rough draft by the time Laura came home from work. She bounced upstairs and sat with me, flipping through pictures from the summer so far.

While I made tea downstairs--chicken, rice, green beans--Lisa sprawled on the sofa, browsing cooking magazines, and Laura sat nearby, strumming hymns on her guitar and singing. We ate together, and then Lisa and I went to Bible study at eight. The women's study this summer is working through Women Counseling Women, a book of essays edited by Elyse Fitzpatrick.

After Bible study I walked home. The evening was perfect, as perfect as a summer evening could be. The wind had changed to be from the northwest in cool gusts; the sky was cloudless; the air was dry and fresh. The sky resonated with deep color, as though it were the undulating silk of a pavilion roof, azure, peach, ochre. Bats zigzagged across it. I talked to Scott on the phone.

Nighttime was actually clear enough to be able to see Cygnus, Casseiopeia, the Big Dipper, and a hint of the Milky Way. Inside, the house smelled like chocolate chips and brownies. Laura had been baking for Mary's party tomorrow. She and I chatted about Les Miserables, which she'd watched while she was cooking, and then I went upstairs.

The new-ish beetle!

With the good ol' Buick still hanging out in the background. Looks like it's going to continue its trek north to Pennsylvania with Laura this fall. No retirement yet!

Today was car shopping day. We set out at about half nine with the goal of ending the morning in Loogootee, Indiana. On the way we stopped at two dealerships in Bloomington. The first salesman was a bit on the slicker side as far as trying to get me to buy things went. We'd found a Mitsubishi Lancer online on the lot that I liked, so I took it for a test drive. It behaved as well as could be expected and had a moon roof as a perk.

Having escaped that salesman, we went on to the next car, a Dodge Neon. The salesman there was an older fellow with an enormous Panama sunhat, who casually gave us the keys and let me take it for a drive. Again, it behaved itself. Its brakes were slightly better than the Lancer's. Always important.

Not terribly impressed so far, though both of those cars were 2005/2006, in my price range, with no terrible flaws, we set out for Loogootee. It's a fair drive from Bloomington, a good forty-five minutes or so. But the highway winds through some of the most beautiful countryside: high, rolling hills covered with thick hardwoods and the occasional grove of pines, sloping fields rich with corn and soybeans, pastures full of white Queen Anne's lace and yellow goldenrod, limestone quarries. It was about noon, and the distant hills were hazy, deep blue. Very peaceful to drive through that landscape.

Loogootee turned out to be a small but mostly prosperous town. The salesman was another older gentleman who put the least pressure of anyone: he actually handed us the keys and didn't stay around to sing the car's praises, but went inside and let me test drive it. The car was a Volkswagen Beetle, and it drove much more nicely than either of the other two. I couldn't believe it. I had set out wanting a Honda Civic or Ford Focus, but neither one of those cars existed in the market at a price that I could afford. It seemed ridiculous to be driving a buggy around, considering the amount of goofiness we always gave them as kids, but it was smooth and solid.

So we went inside the tiny office, and I told the salesman that I wanted to buy the car. After some phone calls to his boss (which were hilarious to overhear--small-town Indiana people are about as laconic as they come), he managed to take off six hundred dollars, which was almost enough to cover the sales tax. So away I went in a little tiny silver VW bug, over to the main dealership to pick up the title, and then back to Bloomington. I was so happy on the drive back that I couldn't stop smiling and thanking God. Had been praying for the last wee while for Him to provide, and He has!

That was just the beginning of the day's adventures, though. Mary came over at about half four, and while Scott kept us company, she and I made pesto and whole wheat noodles for tea tonight. Eric came over, too. Mary had never made pasta before, and I'd only made it with a pasta-maker, so it was rather an adventure. Homemade noodles cook fast, in about two minutes, and swell up to about three times their original size. Whole wheat pasta is pretty heavy, too. All those things were a surprise to us. With fresh pesto (from the basil on the back porch) and a strawberry-peach-spinach salad, though, it wasn't too bad.

We sat around joking for quite awhile after the meal. Laura had joined us; Lindsay has work in the evenings. Scott and Eric teased Lisa no end, which is about usual. At seven we went to the Hs' for our small group on Holding Hands, Holding Hearts. Somehow the Hs manage to pack a ridiculous number of people into their house even in the summer. Adam and Anne were there with wee Micah, and Scott, Mary, Lisa, and me; Laura had come with us, as had Eric, of course; Tom and Mary were there, and so were Russell and Nathaniel.

While Amy cut up brownies for dessert, Mary and I played with Anne and Jane. They rode piggyback on us, and we dashed around the house, with the two of them howling, screaming, and giggling from our backs. Ice cream and brownies for dessert. Scott, Laura, and I chatted with Tom's Mary about wedding plans. The small group discussion was about as usual, just talking about the book and its take on relationships. Good, plain, practical advice.

And so the evening ended with Scott and me back at the townhouse, saying good-night in the little buggy. Makes me laugh every time I think about it.

Now Playing: Jon Foreman, "Leaves and Branches," "House of God Forever."

Photos from Colorado are here.

We hiked up the Dry Lakes trail, with Horn Peak on the right. This is the basin that awaited us at the top, where we ate lunch.

More pictures from today here. Good times....

Scott, Laura, and I went to Waukomis today for gelato. Quite a sight, a BMW in Waukomis! The gelato was delicious, and on the way home we saw a tornado.

A small elephant trunk tornado, but a real tornado nonetheless. It was just hanging out in the field, not going anywhere, but it definitely prompted us to go somewhere much more quickly.

For being on holiday, I've spent a ridiculous amount of time in coffee shops over the last few days. Working on this project for Gale has been a bear. They've assigned us to write about one twenty-first century play a month as part of their push to put together a database of articles about twenty-first century plays.

The play I wrote about for June was a snarl of offensiveness, but for July I'm writing about an adaptation of Shakespeare's history dramas, the dramas centering on the War of the Roses. It definitely has its unorthodox components, but as a study in contemporary adaptation it's quite interesting. Thankfully the entry is nearly finished.

Highlights from the week so far include meeting Anna and Ruth for coffee on Monday, the traditional Enid Fourth of July party Monday evening, and baking thyme focaccia bread with Laura. Also introducing Scott to Braum's ice cream and Hideaway pizza.

The heat continues to be nearly unbearable. I'm not sure how anything is surviving, and if the heat and drought continue like this, the whole state may go up in flames before autumn comes.

Bridge between two (empty or nearly empty) office buildings in Oklahoma City.

Scott and I are in Oklahoma for the next couple of weeks. On Thursday we went to Tulsa to see TU and hang out with people, and yesterday we went with my mother to Oklahoma City and walked around downtown. It's been brutally hot, but we've still managed to spend quite a lot of time outside somehow. Yesterday afternoon we discovered just how desolate Oklahoma City can be in the middle of the afternoon when it's over 100 F outside: it looks like a set from Inception.

More photos from the trip so far here.

A few photos from Eric's welcome back party yesterday here. Eric has been in Mexico for the last two months, so Scott invited people over to his house to celebrate Eric's return. Thanks to the fact that Lisa's sister Lindsey was in town with her daughter Caitlin, and also to the fact that the Petras and Niesses came (the Petras with baby Eli, the Niesses with wee Micah), the house was comparatively full of kids. It turned out to be a perfect evening to be outside: the kids played with inflatable balls and a frisbee on the grass, while some of the rest of us sat around on the back porch and talked.

Now Playing: Notre-Dame de Paris.

 My zinnias have finally started to bloom. So far, they're just pink.

 One Sunday at church, Annie gave Lisa and me a pot of pink splash, miniature ivy, and petunias. Unfortunately, the petunia buds look a lot like the dead flowers, and since they need to be deadheaded regularly, I'm always in danger of pulling off the buds instead of the dead ones.

Our tomatoes have reached absolutely monstrous proportions, as has the lantana. Hopefully the tomatoes will now turn to producing fruit instead of trying to grow higher than the house.

Indiana is lush in June! The top photo is from woods northwest of Bloomington; the bottom one, from the Lilly House formal gardens in Indianapolis.

More photos added to this album.