Lift Up Your Hearts!

Joy Ellen Daley
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
8 lbs. 1 oz., 19 3/4 in. 

  (click to enlarge)

There are many joys and privileges in life, and I count being present at a grandchild’s birth one of the highest.  But if I’d blinked, I’d have missed this one.

Joy Ellen has already asserted her independence, coming three days early; her siblings were all late.  Except for one friend from church, who prophetically nailed the date exactly, none of us were expecting this to be a February baby.

Perhaps Heather had a subconscious inkling, as she insisted that Jonathan, Noah, and Faith pack their own “birth bags” (toys to play with and special treats) on Tuesday.  (Her own preparations had been made earlier.)  She had been having unusual contractions for several days, pretty hard for Braxton-Hicks but not “real labor.”  They’d happen when she was sitting down and always stopped when she stood up.  My theory was that they were special “baby turning” contractions, since the baby had been in the posterior position.  Whether I was right or not I don’t know, but she had indeed turned the right way by the time she was born.

Even though I had packed most of my own supplies before going to bed, I was not at all prepared for the knock on my bedroom door less than two hours later.  “I’m in labor, Mom!”  I felt little sense of urgency, but continued to throw more items into my bag as I thought of them while dressing—such as a flashlight in case this turned into a car birth.  Then I saw Heather on all fours during a contraction….

We bundled the three sleepy siblings into the car and settled Heather in the rear middle seat next to Faith, getting underway about 1:20 a.m.  Since Dad-o was not with us this time—he was in Connecticut with his dad—Jon did the driving.  I was so grateful that it was he and not I that I steadfastly held my tongue as I watched the speedometer.  I really wanted to say, “Jon, I appreciate your law-abiding nature, but there are times when it’s okay to exceed the speed limit, and I think this is one of them!”  But perhaps he was right—getting pulled over by the police would probably have cost us more in time.  I did pay careful attention to the mile markers, however, in case I needed to call 911 and whisper, “My daughter’s giving birth on the side of the road,” hoping all the while they could understand me and not think it was a joke call because I had laryngitis and couldn’t croak out a syllable.

Fortunately, no such measures were needed.  We all sighed with relief as we pulled into the birth center’s parking lot.  Well, I did, at least.  Heather was much too busy moaning.

Jon helped her into the cottage, and I pointed the sleepy boys in the right general direction, then unbuckled Faith and carried her in.  Once in the birth room I realized that Jonathan was nowhere to be seen, so I set Faith down in a chair and went on a search mission.  I finally found him on a couch in the waiting room—I’d missed him the first time because he was totally covered, curled up under his coat.  He said he was comfortable and wanted to stay there.

So I made a trip to the car to bring in supplies.  Thus I apparently missed the loud scream as the midwife checked and discovered Heather at 10 cm and the baby ready to be born.  (Though later, when we were talking about it and I explained to Jon that I must have been at the car at the time, he still replied, “And you didn’t hear it?”)  Arriving back at the birth room, I picked up Faith again, heard the midwife say Heather’s water had just broken, and realized I needed to get Jonathan, pronto!  This is the second birth in a row I’ve had to go chasing down the hall for Jonathan—this time because I had no voice to call, but had to run to him and whisper!  We arrived just in time to see Joy’s head emerge, and after the midwife removed the single loop of cord from her neck, the rest of her slid out smoothly.

The midwife, forgetting that the plan had Noah assigned the task of determining whether the baby was a boy or girl, made the joyful announcement as she placed the baby on Heather’s chest.  Fortunately, Noah didn’t seem to be bothered.  We had decided earlier that either Jonathan or I would cut the cord, depending on how we felt at the time, but Jonathan declined and I was both holding Faith and concerned about my cold germs, so the midwife did the job.

All the kids were very excited about the birth, and about having a new sister.  Even two-year-old Faith was fine throughout the process, after being reminded that Mommy would be making funny noises but that she was all right.  She did put her hands over her ears now and then, however.  Noah especially was interested, showing much more curiosity than he had two and a half years ago when Faith was born.

According to the records, we had arrived at the birth center at 2:40 a.m.  Heather’s water broke at 2:44, and Joy was born at 2:45!

Everything else seemed to move quickly as well.  Joy was named much sooner than her siblings had been.  The necessary paperwork was done, and we were on our way.  Heather was feeling fine, and much prefers to recover at home.  We arrived as dawn was breaking, about 6:30 a.m.

The next day Baby Joy—affectionately known as “Baby Oy” by Noah and Faith—had her first visit with the pediatrician, who pronounced her a fine baby girl.  Life here is rather short on sleep, as you might imagine.  And I still have no voice.  But other than that, everyone is fine, happy, and very grateful!

Total times
Labor (hindsight guess):  slightly over 4 hours
Driving, 2 hours, 40 minutes
Birthing:  5 minutes

For more information, and a more intimate perspective, Heather's version of the events will soon be has now been posted on Daley Ponderings.

Baby Pool Results:  Except for the date, which as I said was nailed by a friend from church, Stephan is the clear winner in every category.  Not only did he come closest, but closest by far—and incredibly near the actual numbers.  He was only 1 hour and 45 minutes off on the time, 2 ounces off on weight, and 1/4 inch off in length!

It's not generally considered the best treatment for a cold and severe laryngitis to play in the snow, but the sky was so blue and the sun so inviting and the snow so perfectly white and perfect for making snowballs and snow men that when the rest of the family went out to enjoy it I couldn't resist accompanying them.  I had planned merely to watch, but as I said, the snow was perfect.

At least I never had a chance to get cold; the grandsons saw to that.  We made a lovely snowman with a carrot nose, and then engaged in a wild battle.  I don't know what the effort did for my cold, but the experience was exhilarating.  We Florida girls don't get much opportunity for that kind of fun.

And my voice is no worse, not that it can get much further gone than completely.  I'm learning a lot about how much I chatter when given the opportunity.  :(

Faith's two older brothers are off helping Daddy work on the car, so she had luxury of playing with Dad-o's gift all by herself.  The three wine corks will no doubt eventually become part of some craft project, but for now they are building blocks.  She carefully set down her baby doll—lovingly wrapped in a warm purple blanket—and made a tower, standing the corks all on end (no problems with this two-year-old's coordination).  Then she piled them like a woodpile (her family heats with wood), then stood them side by side to make a fence.  Next she laid them down, like sleeping people.  Then end-to-end to make a snake.  Finally, she arranged the corks in an L-shape.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Dat mine dun (gun).  Mine OWN dun!"

What shopping at your standard grocery store, with its standardized food, won't tell you:

The fruit on the left is a lemon, and on the right is a grapefruit.  All natural, from local (Central Florida) trees, healthy (as well as healthful), and absolutely delicious!

I should have put something recognizable in the picture for sizing; the grapefruit is about the size of a baseball.

Ya gotta love our church.  I've changed the names rather than seek permission to publish, but the story is true.  From our church bulletin:

LENTEN QUIET DAY IN MARCH led by Pastor Dale at her farm on Saturday, March 12^th ... offers two meditations on Elijah's desert journey and meeting God in the quiet - 1 Kings 19 & one on the Lord's Prayer - Matthew 6.  A simple lunch will be provided, plus music, prayers, a walking meditation in the pasture (wear comfortable walking shoes), and a closing Eucharist.

GUNS @ DALE'S:  SHOOTING SKEET & KILLING CANS  The spring time shootout is Saturday, March 12. ... For Guys & Gals.  Bring your friends, kids, & grandkids.  If you've got a gun, bring it.  If you don't have a gun, there will be several to use (WITH instruction and supervision)....  LIMITED TO THE 1^ST 25 FOR SAFETY'S SAKE.

Contrary to appearances, these two popular events, though on the same day, are not on the same property.  "Dale" does not refer to the same person in both cases.  But the juxtaposition does capture quite nicely the diversity represented in our church.

This week an Orlando man was arrested for smuggling cockroaches into Florida.  What was he thinking?

Apparently, bugs are a big business, and officers said he had them illegally shipped into Orlando from California....Local reptile experts said the roaches are a good food source for lizards. They have more meat and more nutrients than crickets. They're also quieter and easier to handle, and once you have some good breeding roaches, you won't have to buy more.

Right.  That's why we encourage lizards here, and don't even mind when they come indoors.  But breeding roaches?  On purpose?  <shudder>.

Florida has been hit by unusually cold weather lately, it is true.  But many here who complain were not around in mid-1980's, which produced the bitter cold winters which, along with developers greedy for new land, destroyed the Central Florida citrus industry.

That was not all that icy weather and poor human judgement destroyed in those years.

Twenty-five years ago today, we were eager to share with visiting friends one of the blessings of living here:  the view, from our front yard, of a space shuttle launch.

Discovery, March 8, 2001

Due to the cold morning temperatures, however, when Challenger lifted off we elected to keep our small children (and ourselves) indoors, for the view was nearly as good from our large front window.  But this time, the sight was different.  We took no pictures, but thanks to YouTube you can share the experience, albeit from a different angle,

Did I say you could share the experience?  You can see it, but you can't share it.  That those who weren't here could not understand was made obvious in the ensuing days as jokes and unfeeling comments came forth from other parts of the country.  The loss of Challenger and her crew left a mark on Central Floridians similar to that left on the rest of the country twenty years earlier by the assassination of President Kennedy, and twenty years later by the destruction of the Twin Towers.

We still remember.

In his response to the disaster, President Ronald Reagan quoted from this poem by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.  It, too, has stayed with me these 25 years.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Jon's long-time friend Sara Foss writes a newspaper column in my old home town.  Recently the family stopped by for a visit, and ended up featured in the latest Foss Forward.  Having given Jon ample time to post about it himself, I'm breaking the news here, along with some of my favorite excerpts.  :)

[M]y friend Jon; his pregnant wife, Heather; and their three young children — ages 2, 4 and 7 — visited my home in Albany.

Naturally, I was all freaked out about having a bunch of kids descend upon my one-bedroom apartment, which lacks toys, children’s books and games. I did run out and buy pretzels and graham crackers, so that they could have a snack, but for the most part I felt woefully unprepared to entertain my young visitors.

Fortunately, the New York State Museum is right around the corner, and after a brief stint in my apartment, in which the girl played with my collection of turtle knickknacks (I even filled a bowl with water so that she could watch the plastic wind-up turtle paddle around) and her brothers improvised a game of darts in the bedroom, we headed up the street. I suspected the kids would enjoy riding on the carousel, looking at gems and stuffed animals and playing on the computers in the Discovery Room, and I was right.

In truth, I never should have worried about whether I would be able to entertain Jon’s family for an afternoon.

I’ve known Jon since I was 2, and I sensed that his kids were a lot like him — curious, imaginative, friendly, eager to do new things and see new places. What I enjoyed most about them was how well they played on their own; I didn’t have to worry about entertaining them because they entertained themselves. In fact, it seemed like they had just as much fun running up and down the sidewalk and jumping in snowbanks as hanging out in the museum, and their antics reminded me a bit of how Jon and I used to play in the snow when we were kids.

The subject of the article is the habit people have of comparing children, especially babies, with their parents:  "He sure looks like his mom"; "That's Uncle Frank's nose"; "She walks just like her father."  Sara would agree with Porter's mother, who always insisted, "They look like themselves."

I'll admit to playing the game, including very recently with Joseph, who I think looks very much like his dad from the nose up and his mom from the nose down—based on baby pictures of both.

Jon’s older boy had always struck me as very Jon-like — highly verbal at a young age, interested in puzzles and games, etc. — but now I see more of his mother in him, especially in his face.

I remarked upon this, and Jon said that when they visit his hometown, everyone comments on how much the older boy looks like him — “It’s Jon!” — while Heather’s relatives and friends always note his resemblance to her.

The younger boy did look a lot like Jon, as well as Jon’s brothers, while I had a tough time figuring out exactly who the girl reminded me of, if anyone.

Here's my contribution to the debate about Jonathan.  To be fair, I need a similar photo of Jon; it's hard for those of us who didn't know him as a blond boy not to be influenced by hair color.  And I would be remiss if I did not point out that "highly verbal at a young age, interested in puzzles and games, etc." is also a fair description of Jonathan's mother.  :)

Stephan's thoughtful parents gave Porter a jar of Speculoos à Tartiner for Christmas, and I can't wait to try it.  It's made by Lotus, the same folks who make the incredibly delicious Biscoff cookies Porter occasionally brings home from a plane flight.

I don't have as much quarrel with the TSA as many people do, but I am tired of having my luggage singled out for hand inspection nearly every time I fly.  On my most recent trip to Switzerland, I wasn't particularly surprised to find the tell-tale TSA notice in my checked bag when it and I were finally reunited (that's another story), because I was carrying a large, metal cylinder filled with dangerous ... candy canes.  The can did a great job of protecting the fragile candy, but must have looked intimidating on the x-ray.  There is no packing job so good that the TSA can't make a hash of it, but the only victim of their efforts was one crushed chocolate truffle.  We promptly destroyed the evidence.

On the way home I thought I had a chance of escaping.  I had a few bizarre encounters with airport security—none of which involved pat-downs, I'm glad to say—but it wasn't until I landed in Charlotte that my checked bag became a problem.

First, I was singled out for special treatment at Customs, because I'd answered honestly the question, "Are you bringing any food into the country?"  That always gets me into trouble, although normally as soon as I explain that the food is chocolate, cookies, and similar items, they lose interest.

Not this time.  Everything, including my purse, went through a scanner.  "What's in the jar?" I was asked.  "It's kind of like peanut butter," was the best I could do, but it was sufficient.  The pleasant Customs officials released me, and I thought I was home free.

Not too surprisingly, however, Customs and the TSA don't share all their information.  When I retrieved my bag in Orlando, it was not the unscathed piece of equipment I had re-checked in Charlotte.  That my special Towers-Perrin strap was ripped was clearly the fault of some mechanical demon, but what accounted for the odd shape of the bag?  When I opened the bag to check for damage, it was clear that someone had gone through the contents.  No way would I have left fragile items on the very top, unprotected by several layers of clothing!  Amazingly, all appeared to be well, despite the mangling.  But who had done the inspection?  It must have been done in Europe, I reasoned, because I could see no TSA slip.  It wasn't until a few days later, when I removed the Speculoos jar from its protective wrapping, that I found the notice from the TSA, carefully wrapped around the jar....  To give them credit, they did return the glass jar to its bubble wrap, and no damage was done.

I'm really looking forward to tasting that which caused so much concern.  If it's as good as I hear, I may be braving TSA and Customs inspections on subsequent trips.

That's all I was going to say.  But in researching Speculoos à Tartiner for this post, I came upon this post by pastry chef David Lebowitz.  While drooling wandering around his site I also discovered a post about his visit to Lausanne, Switzerland.  At least one of my readers will not want to miss it.

Resolution #1, Read More Books, was by far the most successful of the dozen I developed throughout 2010.  I read 65 books in the year:  fiction and non-fiction, from children's lit to an 800-page survey of ancient history.  This is a marked improvement over recent years, and I attribute it to (1) recognizing that I had let other activities replace the habit of reading, (2) deciding to make the change, and (3) setting up a system of measurement (a simple, but public, list) whereby I could see my progress or lack thereof.  This resolution is a keeper.

What did I learn most from this experience?  The realization that we can probably no longer call ourselves a literate nation.  Is there really much difference between someone who can't read and someone who doesn't?  I'm a fast reader and a good one; I love to read books and I watch television only rarely; I'm a homemaker whose children are grown.  What's more, few of the books I read were difficult, and I counted audio books as well.  In short, I have everything going for me when it comes to reading, and I made the goal as easy as possible to reach.  Yet it took a deliberate, sustained effort to read at a rate of just over one book per week.  It is now clear to me that if we want to recover literacy, it's not going to happen without serious, determined work.  Nor can we leave the effort to our schools, which to give them credit have been trying every trick in the book and then some to get kids to read, but which cannot seem to produce many graduates who read without coercion.  Literacy, like charity and world peace, must begin at home.  How can kids learn the importance of books if they never see their parents reading?

Or ... wait.  Kindles.  iPads.  Could it be that Books + Electronic Devices = Literacy for the Next Generation?  Stranger things have happened.

For the curious, here is my list for 2010, sorted alphabetically.  A chronological listing, with links, is here.

1. The Abernathy Boys  by L. J. Hunt
2. Between Heaven and Hell  by Peter Kreeft 
3. Born to Run  by Christopher McDougall  
4. The Brain that Changes Itself  by Norman Doidge  
5. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky (audio book, abridged)    
6. Christians Are Hate-Filled Hypocrites ...and Other Lies You've Been Told  by Bradley R. E. Wright 
7. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe  by C. S. Lewis
8. The Chronicles of Narnia:  Prince Caspian  by C. S. Lewis
9. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis
10. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Silver Chair  by C. S. Lewis
11. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Horse and His Boy by C. S. Lewis
12. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Magician’s Nephew  by C. S. Lewis
13. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Last Battle  by C. S. Lewis
14. The Chronological Guide to the Bible, published  by Thomas Nelson
15. Common Sense 101: Lessons from G. K. Chesterton  by Dale Ahlquist 
16. Covenant and Communion: The Biblical Theology of Pope Benedict XVI  by Scott W. Hahn 
17. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time  by Mark Haddon  
18. Ender's Game  by Orson Scott Card  
19. Eugenics and Other Evils  by G. K. Chesterton 
20. Everything I Want to Do Is Illegal  by Joel Salatin 
21. Food Rules  by Michael Pollan
22. Forgotten God: Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit  by Francis Chan (audio book)
23. The Four-Story Mistake  by Elizabeth Enright
24. Free-Range Kids: How to Raise Safe, Self-Reliant Children (Without Going Nuts with Worry)  by Lenore Skenazy 
25. Fruitless Fall: The Collapse of the Honey Bee and the Coming Agricultural Crisis  by Rowan Jacobsen  
26. Getting Things Done  by David Allen
27. The Gobblestone School  by Jacob Schriftman 
28. Gold: The Final Science Fiction Collection  by Isaac Asimov 
29. Healing Through Exercise  by Jörg Blech.
30. The History of the Ancient World: From the Earliest Accounts to the Fall of Rome  by Susan Wise Bauer 
31. The Hobbit  by J.R.R. Tolkien
32. Homeschooling for the Rest of Us  by Sonya Haskins 
33. Inconstant Moon  by Larry Niven
34. In Defense of Food  by Michael Pollan 
35. In Tune with the World  by Josef Pieper 
36. Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation  by Martin Laird 
37. It Happened in Italy  by Elizabeth Bettina 
38. A Journal of the Plague Year  by Daniel Defoe 
39. Just Courage  by Gary Haugen (audio book) 
40. A Little Princess  by Frances Hodgson Burnett
41. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring  by J. R. R. Tolkien
42. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers  by J. R. R. Tolkien
43. Magic: The Final Fantasy Collection  by Isaac Asimov 
44. Martin Luther: In His Own Words (audio book, includes The Small Catechism, 95 Theses, On Faith and Coming to Christ, On Confession and the Lord's Supper, Of the Office of Preaching, Excerpt from Luther's Tower Experience, and The Last Written Words of Luther)
45. Mayflower  by Nathaniel Philbrick 
46. Murder Must Advertise  by Dorothy Sayers 
47. No More Christian Nice Girl  by Paul Coughlin and Jennifer D. Degler
48. Non Campus Mentis  by Anders Henricksson 
49. The Omnivore's Dilemma  by Michael Pollan 
50. The Philosophy of Tolkien  by Peter Kreeft
51. The Pursuit of God  by A. W. Tozer (audio book)
52. Rabbit Hill  by Robert Lawson
53. Ready for Anything  by David Allen 
54. Saint Patrick  by Jonathan Rogers 
55. The Saturdays  by Elizabeth Enright 
56. The Selfless Gene  by Charles Foster 
57. Speaker for the Dead  by Orson Scott Card 
58. Spiderweb for Two: A Melendy Maze  by Elizabeth Enright 
59. Stained Glass Elegies  by Shusaku Endo 
60. Stones into Schools  by Greg Mortenson
61. Theatre Shoes  by Noel Streatfeild 
62. Then There Were Five  by Elizabeth Enright 
63. Thinking in Pictures:  My Life with Autism by Temple Grandin
64. Three Cups of Tea  by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin 
65. Weapons of Mass Instruction  by John Taylor Gatto 

I started 2011 early, being at the time six hours ahead of most of my readers.  But as I did not get back into this country until very late last night, I lost that advantage and then some.  In an unusal and daring move, I did not take my computer with me this trip.  (At each of the many airport security checks, I proudly answered, "no" when the agent pointed to my backpack and queried, "computer?")  This step was not as meritorious, nor as risky, as it might seem, since I had three other computers at my disposal at my destination, but one must begin somewhere.

Despite the opportunity to indulge in e-mail and blog checking on an almost daily basis, real-life events (remember real life?) pared that to essentials.  In other words, I returned home to an intimidating backlog for both.  By eating the elephant one bite at a time I am making progress, but some areas are not getting their usual attention, so if you wrote something important and I haven't responded, feel free to try again.

And Facebook?  I'm not even going to try to catch up.  If I missed a major life event you posted only on Facebook, have pity on me, forgive me, and let me know about it some other way.

The water came, not from the sky, but from the sprinklers left on overnight in an attempt to raise the ambient temperature for sensitive plants closer to 32 degrees than the predicted 25.  The ice shows that the precautions were not unwarranted.  At 4:30 a.m. our back porch thermometer registered 35 degrees, but I suspect it was quite a bit colder than that—the sensor is located near the house and above the worms, which had their own heating lamp for the night.

Nothing shows American individualism like the days between Thanksgiving and the end of the year, when everyone is free to celebrate the holiday of his own choosing—ancient or modern, major or minor, traditional or made-up—as long as he follows the Two Cardinal Rules:

• Don’t assume everyone else wants to celebrate the same holiday you’ve chosen, and
• Spend lots and lots of money!^*

I reach into the grab bag and choose:  Advent, all twelve days of Christmas, and Epiphany.  Perhaps New Year’s Day as well.  None, technically, involves spending a lot of money, but we generally manage to do our part, and so far this year has been no exception.

For the purposes of this blog, the operative word here is holiday.  I am attempting to take a break for the season.  I seriously doubt I won’t post at all, but do expect a significant reduction in the number and length of posts.

May whatever holiday(s) you celebrate bring you blessing!

^* The money doesn't have to be spent selfishly, despite what the television ads may lead you to believe.  I recommend considering some version of the Advent Conspiracy.

This resolution comes straight from George MacDonald, via his novel Robert Falconer.  It expressed the “divine law of [Falconer’s] activity,” and I wish to make it my own.

The phrase spreads before me a vision of quiet, effective work punctuated by seasons of true rest, the antithesis of modern society’s frantic—and often ineffectual—labor, and equally frantic striving after (unrestful) recreation.

Another author who captured this vision was J.R.R. Tolkien, in his short story, Leaf by Niggle.  At one point in the story, the protagonist is in a purgatory of sorts, and I love this description of what happens in him:

It could not be denied that he began to have a feeling of—well, satisfaction:  bread rather than jam.  He could take up a task the moment one bell rang, and lay it aside promptly the moment the next one went, all tidy and ready to be continued at the right time.  He got through quite a lot in a day, now; he finished small things off neatly.  He had no "time of his own" (except alone in his bed-cell), and yet he was becoming master of his time; he began to know just what he could do with it.  There was no sense of rush.  He was quieter inside now, and at resting-time he could really rest.

It was from Shinichi Suzuki that I first heard, “Never rush, never rest,” which captures a similar idea, but one not as good, for rest is essential.  “The Sabbath was made for man.”

Jim Loehr and Tony Schwartz (The Power of Full Engagement) studied top-notch tennis players to determine what separated the great from the greatest.  The players were equally skilled at the techniques of the game; the crucial difference appeared in how they used the brief moments when they were not actively playing. The really great players had learned how to rest between points.

Into Great Silence, a film about the Carthusian monks, gives yet another glimpse of what I seek in this, my final resolution for 2010.  Two monks are cutting wood into fireplace-sized lengths for heating.  The young novice quickly breaks into a sweat, and wears himself out with his energetic motions, while the old man calmly, deliberately, and slowly outpaces him in production without looking in the least bit tired.

Focussed, unhurried work; effective rest.  A good aspiration for Advent, the Season of Preparation, though perhaps a most difficult one during the secular Christmas season, which neatly epitomizes its opposite.

This year I've had more fun than ever before with my "New Year's" resolutions.  I'll probably find more next year, but on a less regular basis, as once a month is obviously a faster pace than I can put them into practice.  What I hope to do with this year's resolutions, as each reaches its one-year anniversary, is take time for analysis:  how I've done, whether or not I still think the resolution is valuable, and how I might make it more measurable (and thus more likely to be accomplished).

Progress Report

#1  Read More Books  In November I surpassed my most ambitious goal for the year, that of five books per month, wtih a total of 61.

#2  Rediscover Feasting  Thanksgiving at my sister's house is one long string of amazing feast days.  I'm still not good enough at saving the feast for special days to receive such times with the kind of joy and abandon that hungrier people do, however.

#3  Learn to Relax  I've been more regular (though still not good enough) at taking time each day for deliberate, focussed relaxation.  I also found our two activity-charged weeks away from home much less stressful than usual.  I'm not sure why, but I take it as a good sign.  (I don't mean that being with our wonderful family is in itself stressful, but I tend to stress out easily when there's a lot going on and a lot that needs to be done.)

#4  Like More Things Hmm.  What to say here?  I think I already liked everything I did this month, except missing my flight connection on the trip home after Thanksgiving.

#5  Pay Attention  I continue to work on keeping my mind focussed on the "now" of whatever I am doing.  When I remember.  What was I writing about?

#6  Cast Away Fear  Travelling alone and dealing with unexpected storms and missed connections gave me some practice here.

#7  Talk Less, Listen More  Spending two weeks with lots of other people gave me more opportunity to practice this, and if I wasn't all that successful, I at least remembered this resolution on occasion.

#8  Enjoy Spontaneity  Not much to say here, but again, being away from home does tend to force me into some spontaneity, and I did enjoy it.  :)

#9  End with the Beginning in Mind  Nothing I can think of to report this month.

#10  Care More about Other People—and Less about What They Think  It's not easy to do, but there have been several occasions when I have made this a deliberate choice.

#11  Practice Thanksgiving  I had a lot to be thankful for this month—including a safe, if long, trip home—but to be honest I was no more thankful because of the resolution than without it.

Don't you just love it when an otherwise obscure reference clicks in your mind?

First, one of my favorite non-family blogs, The Occasional CEO, has a post entitled Steampunk in Pictures.  Steampunk, Wikipedia tells me, is a subgenre of science fiction.  Wait—I cut my teeth on science fiction, and I'd never heard of it?  Turns out steampunk came of age during the 1980's and 90's, when our kids were cutting their teeth and I was too busy to keep up with that part of my former life.

But then, just this morning, I learned that my nephews' writing teacher will be leading a class on steampunk.

Then on the way home from church I heard part of A Prairie Home Companion^*, which was being broadcast from New York City.  Garrison Keillor, describing the crowds at Times Square, reported that city locals were not there, but rather were at—and here he named several other places, including "the Christmas shops at Bryant Park."  That would have passed by me into obscurity just like all the other places he mentioned, except that last December I had passed by Bryant Park twice a day while doing research at the New York Public Library, and had seen those very shops—along with the portable ice skating rink and other magical sights of the season.

This phenomenon, that the more we know, the more we are aware, the more we learn—and often, the more we like—is a big reason why I believe even very young children should have the opportunity to encounter as many of the good things in this world as possible, from hearing new languages to making pancakes to looking at pictures of great art to any number of other wonderful things.  When it comes to knowledge, from the vital to the trivial, "to everyone who has, more will be given."