AUTUMN FUN

I've decided that this year I'm going to make a real Pumkin Pie... And this is the beautiful specimen I purchased in order to attain such a goal.

Of course, we also bought a lot of other things. Lara helped us push the cart a little, and after shopping we had a bite to eat at a hotdog thingamajig. Lara is wearing her bib here, it's not an odd piece of clothing...

And here is my wonderful husband... with Lara trudging along as best as she can... What a long supermarket! Well, she did get a ride in the cart, don't think she walked all the time.

Back at home, Lara entertained herself with her little colour books... This is orange!!

She also likes practicing her letters... SSSSS, sssssssssss... for sun!!

And of course, her numbers too... with the new book she got a few days ago from Abu and Grandma!! Thank-you so much!!

Then, I put everything in its place, and it looked so pretty I couldn't resist taking a picture of it!

That same evening, since Lara had such a long nap in the afternoon, we went to some friends' home for supper, and she had a great time playing with Aarón's toys... he was sleeping!

And this is one of the latest pictures of Lara... a little spiffed up... doesn't she look dreamy? :-)

MORE TO COME (I might do a mini-story on how I got my pumpkin pie done...)

HAVE THINE OWN WAY, LORD

Have thine own way, Lord, have thine own way;
Thou art the potter, I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.

Have thine own way, Lord, have thine own way;
Search me and try me, Savior today!
Wash me just now, Lord, wash me just now,
As in thy presence humbly I bow.

Have thine own way, Lord, Have thine own way;
Wounded and weary, help me, I pray.
Power, all power, surely is thine,
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.

Have thine own way, Lord, have thine own way;
Hold o'er my being absolute sway.
Fill with thy Spirit till all shall see
Christ only, always, living in me!

Adelaide Pollard, 1907

SILENT IN LOVE

"He will rest in His love."

Love culminates in bliss when in doth reach
A white, unflickering, fear-consuming glow:
And, knowing it is known as it doth know
Needs no assuring word or soothing speach.
It craves but silent nearness, so to rest,
No sound, no movement, love not heard but felt,
Longer and longer still, till time should melt
A snowflake on the eternal ocean's breast.
Have moments of this silence starred thy past,
Made memory a glory-haunted place,
Taught all the joy that mortal ken can trace?
By greater light 'tis but a shadow cast;-
So shall the Lord thy God rejoice o'er thee,
And in His love shall rest, and silent be.




Frances R. Havergal
Ministry of Song, 1881

Cròniques de Casa

Avui ha estat un dia moooolt llarg. De bon matí, com cada dia, la Lara ha esmorzat, i després d'unes cançons, a canviar-se s'ha dit! Abans, però, li agrada jugar una miqueta al llit del pares.

Ara sap agafar-se els peuets, i com podeu veure, li encanta estar en "paños menores"! Pessigolles, petarretes a la panxolina i ratet més tard, ja la està vestida i preparada per al nou dia.

Mira quines taronges més boniques! Són ideals perquè les puc fer moure però pesen massa per agafarles i tirar-les pel cantó de la trona... No sap res la Mama!

A mig matí hem anat a comprar, i feia bastant fred. Sort de la caputxa! Hem anat per primer cop al Mercadona, i la Lara s'ha mig adormit... Si està tant calentó, al sac del cotxet!

Mentre la Mama preparava la papilla del migdia... la Lara s'ha entretingut menjant el tap del biberó, amb una cara de desesper perquè arribés el moment!!

Ahhhhh... això està millor! Encara estic aprenent, per això tinc la cara tant bruta! Avui la Lara estava practicant la fffffffff i la ththththththt, així que la papilla volava per tot arreu...

Mira... ara si que està contenta! Ooooi, ja té aires de conqueridora! Aquests dies no hi ha qui li faci entrar la llengua a la boca! Li agrada que li toqui l'aire... Vinga, a fer la migdiada.

Per la tarda han vingut els alumnes d'anglès de la Mama. Hem fet pastís de chocolate chips... Ha sortit molt bo! Llavors han fet deures, i jo, una altra papilleta per berenar mentrestant.

Al final del dia, el Papa ha sortit del seu despatx, on ha estat treballant tot el dia, i ha anat al gimnàs... Ha intentat posar-se la jaqueta, però misteriosament li anava molt petita... Els nens han rigut molt!

I abans d'anar a dormir, el Papa li fa petonets a la Lara i li canta cançons que es treu de la màniga... Veieu com canta la Lara? No, si serà una soprano com una casa!! "Aaaaaah ric de veure'm tant bella en aquest miraaaaaaaall!!!"

BONA NIT!

And Yet Another Piece of Exquisite Thought

This is one of my favorite pieces of literature by Frances Havergal.

One of the desires of my heart is to "bear a chalice" as is described in the following poem. It's not easy, I'm sure, or something to attain in a short time. It requires immersing oneself in the Word of God, day by day, in sweet meditation and communion with the Master, our Lord Jesus, and then only can we let the fountain of His love and blessings overflow from our soul to refresh that of others in need. I only have to remember the times that someone touched my heart to soothe and comfort it, to wish I could be of blessing in this manner to someone who comes across my way. Enjoy this poem, then, and let it be inspiring to you as it is to me.

The Song Chalice

"You bear the chalice". Is it so, my friend?
Have I indeed a chalice of sweet song,
With underflow of harmony made strong,
New calm of strength through throbbing veins to send?
I did not form nor fill, - I do but spend
That which the Master poured into my soul,
His dewdrops caught in a poor earthen bowl,
That service so with praise might meekly blend.
May He who taught the morning stars to sing,
Aye keep my chalice cool, and pure, and sweet,
And grant me so with loving hand to bring
Refreshment to His weary ones, - to meet
Their thirst with water from God's music-spring;
And, bearing thus, to pour it at His feet.

Frances Ridley Havergal

TO THESE GARDENS GAVE

'Tis she that to these gardens gave
The wondrous beauty which they have;
She straightness on the woods bestows;
To her the meadow sweetness ows;
Nothing could make the river be
So crystal pure but only she;
She yet more pure, sweet, straight, and fair,
That gardens, woods, meads, rivers, are.

Therefore what first she on them spent,
They gratefully again present:
The meadow, carpets where to tread;
The garden, flowers to crown her head;
And for a glass the limpid brook,
Where she may all her beauties look;
But, since she would not have them seen,
The wood about her draws a screen.

-Andrew Marvell

This is by far my favorite Victorian portrait... It's much more beautiful when you look at the reproduction on print, rather than on the computer screen... The light looks more golden.

TRANSLATION OF AN ITALIAN SONG

This song was in my brother's blog, andersviking.blogspot, and I thought it was well worth a translation (of sorts). If anybody can improve it, please do!!

AMORE PERDUTE

Il fiume dei ricordi,
Il greto del passato;
Sta ritornando da me
Sta rivivendo per te
Ma dove ti troverò
Se tu non vuoi?

Risento i baci su di me...
I baci tuoi
I abbraci tuoi
Gli mi bruciano ancor
Che mi fanno languir
Che mi fanno morir

Il fiume dei ricordi
Il greto del passato
Sta ritornando da me
Sta rivivendo per te
Ma dove ti troverò
Se tu non vuoi?

E il mare che ti vide lì...
Il suo calor, il suo tepor,
Tramutare vorrei
In un gelido mar
In un buio mortal.

------

The rivers of memory,
The gravel of past things;
They are coming back to me,
They are returning for you
But where do I find you,
If you won't let me?

I feel your kisses once more...
Your kisses,
Your embraces
That still burn in me,
That make me languish
That make me die.

The rivers of memory,
The gravel of past things;
They are coming back to me,
They are returning for you
But where do I find you,
If you won't let me?

And the sea, who sees you there...
Would want to change
Its heat, its warmth
Into a freezing sea,
Into a mortal sadness.

Music: Tomaso Albinoni (Adagio in G minor)
Lyrics: Carolina Martinelli
Sung by José Carreras

Musings from Monday, 16th January 2006

With my back to a dark cloudy sky, I am sitting in the Indian fashion, waiting to meet you. Each time someone comes in the door, I feel the chilly air curling around my neck, defying my warm turquoise cashmere scarf.

Today is one of those days. I feel like I need to see the sun again, not just a cold wintry sun but the splendour of the summer sun, radiant, scorching. I need to soak in its rays, I need to stretch out on the warm sand by the beach, hearing the thunder of the waves on the shore, and to close my eyes against the unbearable brilliance. I want to feel the need once more of a cool breeze refreshing my body now and then when the heat becomes overwhelming.

What is it inside of us that makes us long for light, for beauty, for balmy evenings and quiet summer mornings? What is there inside of us that trembles at a once-forgotten strain of melody? What makes tears start in our eyes when music becomes so beautiful our heart aches? When beauty touches the very heartstrings of our being, something strange and misterious, yet sublime, happens. Without knowing, our soul catches a glimpse, a taste, of what Eden must have been at its original glory, of the delicious, pure and raw beauty and pleasure we were destined for. Of the beauty we lost at the Fall, but which we still, at times, can manage to grasp for an instant... only an instant. That is the sensation that we have then of a hazy memory of some far away something we can’t begin to put into words. We cling to it, savouring it while it lasts, and then it inevitably fades and slips beyond our grasp like the edge of the sun when it slips beyond the horizon.

And yet our heart is content... it waits, until another moment like this visits it again. Because, you know, you can’t look for it. It just comes, sometimes when you least expect it.