A day off the grid

Last Sunday the pastor of the church we were in challenged the congregation to spend a day avoiding exposure to advertising. (At least, that's what DH told me--I had hustled an exuberant DS out of the sanctuary at that particular point in the homily.) Not a bad suggestion. But not easy, either. I don't watch a lot of TV, so TV ads are easy to avoid. But if I leave my house, I can't drive more than a mile without encountering a billboard. And now thanks to google ads, I can't even check my email without something on the sidebar. But those are pretty easy for me to ignore, or even laugh at. In fact, chances are that if something is advertised on a google sidebar or a billboard, I will be less likely to favor it (unless it's food. Food on billboards is not playing fair.). I guess you have to know your weaknesses. For me, I imagine I am more vulnerable to the non-ad "sponsorship" lines on public radio. Sponsoring public radio appeals to me as the sort of thing a well-to-do, socially conscious, intellectually snobby business would do--just the kind of business that appeals to my vanity. So maybe for me the pastor's exhortation means a day without public radio. Oh my, that sounds lonely.

Mic Test

I've decided to start blogging again. I'm not sure what about, whether it will be a personal "adventures of a reluctant stay-at-home mom"-type, or a niche law blog, or even a musings in theology or poetry or short stories or whatever interests me. But I feel like I should start writing again for my own good.

So if anyone is still out there, hi. I hope you enjoy whatever I write.

In which an accessory covered completely by a skirt is Special.

I present the following shoe to you as Exhibit A for What is Ridiculous about the Wedding Industry:

This is a "bridal shoe." It is meant to be worn by a bride. Several factors clue you in to this fact:

1. The shoe is advertised in the "bridal" section of the sandal shop at Nordstrom.com.
2. The shoe is ivory, a color worn only at weddings and only by brides, and is likely never to be worn again.
3. The shoe is decorated with bows, flowers, rhinestones, ribbons, and/or glitter in such a fashion that were it not "bridal couture" (a phrase I'm learning to loathe) it would be utterly ridiculous.
4. The shoe is somewhere between impractical and torture device. "Nike Air® technology cushions" or not, only a non-bride could have reached the conclusion that a four-inch stiletto heal is a good idea for a woman who will be on her feet all day in a dress in which she (in all likelihood) cannot breathe, thanks to the equally insightful people who design wedding dresses.
5. The shoe is $428. Because it is special. Because it's Your Day. Because you should get Whatever You Want.

I like that spirit.

Me: We sent invitations this weekend. We probably broke at least a dozen sacred etiquette rules, but they're sent.

Thomas: Invitations are invitations! Weddings are a notice pleading jurisdiction.

He is risen!

Arise, my soul, arise; shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding sacrifice in my behalf appears:
Before the throne my surety stands,
Before the throne my surety stands,
My name is written on His hands.

He ever lives above, for me to intercede;
His all redeeming love, His precious blood, to plead:
His blood atoned for all our race,
His blood atoned for all our race,
And sprinkles now the throne of grace.

Five bleeding wounds He bears; received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers; they strongly plead for me:
“Forgive him, O forgive,” they cry,
“Forgive him, O forgive,” they cry,
“Nor let that ransomed sinner die!”

The Father hears Him pray, His dear anointed One;
He cannot turn away, the presence of His Son;
His Spirit answers to the blood,
His Spirit answers to the blood,
And tells me I am born of God.

My God is reconciled; His pardoning voice I hear;
He owns me for His child; I can no longer fear:
With confidence I now draw nigh,
With confidence I now draw nigh,
And “Father, Abba, Father,” cry.

For Tenebrae

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
How pale Thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish, which once was bright as morn!

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! ’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.
How art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright as morn!

Now from Thy cheeks has vanished their color once so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in this sad strife.

My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression which brought this woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee; Redeemer, spurn me not!

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

My Shepherd, now receive me; my Guardian, own me Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me, O source of gifts divine.
Thy lips have often fed me with words of truth and love;
Thy Spirit oft hath led me to heavenly joys above.

Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will not part;
O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving heart,
When soul and body languish in death’s cold, cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I’ll clasp.

The joy can never be spoken, above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of Life, desiring Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring, I’d breathe my soul to Thee.

My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me nevermore!
When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not alone,
But take away mine anguish by virtue of Thine own!

Be Thou my consolation, my shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfolds Thee. Who dieth thus dies well.

Weekend thoughts

It doesn't matter how these words by Ro­bert Ro­bin­son are reworked or reset in new tunes, they always touch me. This has to be one of my favorite hymn texts.

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.