Friday, February 21, 2014

Hi, Friday

There are many things I don't have time for, and one of them is trying to figure out why Google won't let me update my payment information. So in a few days or so I am going to redirect this blog back to my original jesstock.blogspot address. It is something I've been wanting to do anyway, and now G-Man is giving me the nudge I need. I'm not sure how this affects finding my blog- however you may get here (if you read, thank-you!), if you haven't seen an update in a while you may want to check the blogspot address.


Best dinner this week: Classic Black Beans and Rice

Second place: Crockpot Chicken Curry

Reading: Middlemarch (this may take a while).

Past Read: The Postmistress Set in a small coastal town in Massachusetts in 1940, the story weaves between Iris, the town Postmistress and Frankie Bard, a journalist reporting the war from Europe. The story begins with a very striking conversation with an elderly woman (Iris) at a dinner party, proposing the question, What if there were a Postmistress who knew all of the ins and outs of the town, and chose to withhold certain piece of mail? This is a compelling question and one that it seems the book is meant to be built upon; however the storyline then seems to fizzle. Although moving and complex, and the war stories are very emotional, I think it fell short of its potential.

In our prayers: North Korea, Central African Republic, Ukraine, Venezuela . .. oh such heartbreak and sorrow in the world. We wonder what is it all about and where is it going and go about our little lives and what is there to do? Then fall asleep praying, believing- the glorious gospel, the hope of the world. Come O Come Emanuel.

Best Words this week: a review on the back of Benedcition, by Kent Haruf, waiting to be read: 


"A kind book in a cruel world . . ." 

And it occurs to me that this is the best that I hope for, in writing, or living . .. to be kind . . . to write a kind book, to live a kind life, to raise kind children . . . in a world trying endlessly to make us sophisticated and proud and bitter and cynical like itself.

Updated: after I published this I remembered a beautiful quote Ruth posted on her blog a couple weeks ago:
The skies are always filled with bombers, but Christmas is the incredible affirmation that the skies at the important moment are not filled with bombers, which is our symbol for weary business as usual.  Just then the skies are filled with angels, voices of another announcement about something God has decided.  That is what Christmas is about, the perception that the skies are not filled with bombs, but with angels.-Walter Brueggemann

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