Eclectic Amateur

Thanks be to God, for His blessings and mercy are greater than we can imagine. Happy Thanksgiving!

“Men are ruled, at this minute by the clock, by liars who refuse them news, and by fools who cannot govern.”
– G. K. Chesterton

Former clinic director: Church chilly to my pro-life turn

Whereas clergy and parishioners welcomed her as a Planned Parenthood employee, now they are buttonholing her after Sunday services.

“Now that I have taken this stand, some of the people there are not accepting of that,” she told The Washington Times. “People have told me they disagree with my choice. One of the things I’ve been told is that as Episcopalians, we embrace our differences and disagreements. While I agree with that, I am not sure I can go to a place where I don’t feel I am welcome.”

…

The couple made St. Francis their home. They were confirmed Episcopalians, and their daughter, now 3, was baptized there. A photo on the front page of the church’s Web site, stfrancisonline.org, shows her seated at the right end of the front row, holding a girl dressed in pink. Her husband, dressed in an orange shirt, is to her right.

“Chief among our values,” says a statement below the photo, “are service, tolerance and understanding of the people and events that God has put into our lives.”

Now the Johnsons are “reconsidering” their membership. Another Planned Parenthood staffer who was a member of St. Francis has not attended since Mrs. Johnson made her new views public a month ago.

I wish I could say I’m surprised. But “we embrace our differences and disagreements” actually means “you will be assimilated.” Since Mr. Johnson has rejected the Borg programming, she now needs to be expelled from the collective.

Because, after all, one can’t tolerate the “intolerant.”

I’ve updated the blog template to show my Amazon.com wishlist.

Because I know you were all wondering what to get me for my birthday / for Christmas / for the anniversary of the breaking of the Siege of Vienna / out of sheer gratitude for my witty blogging…

From Sharon Astyk:

So close your eyes. Or first, open them, and look at your property – or your friendly neighbor’s property, or your church’s lot, or your community garden plot. Now that you’ve got it in your head, close your eyes. And take what’s there and add on – what do you want to see? Look at it closely. Smell it. Taste it. Listen to it….

What do you see? A small farm of a few acres, with pigs that root out weeds and manure the ground and then feed your family, and chickens for eggs and a small woodlot, managed for mushrooms, coppiced wood and acorns for feed. Every year you plant more trees, grow more crops, and new garden beds sprout like weeds. There’s a sign at the end of the driveway reading “fresh eggs, raspberries” and the neighbors stop by to pick up your extras and trade neighborly gossip.

What do you see? The family farm brought to life again – the land made productive again, the weeds cut back, the family brought back, swales built to catch precious water, with new crops and new techniques for making fertile space out of what seemed like a lost cause. New hope, and the chance to work together again? Do you see yourself, slowly, patiently planting new trees, repairing the tractor, laughing with your sister again?

What do you see? Draft horses, pulling logs from the shady woodland, and a barn full of animals. A business plan and a market for your lamb, your wool and your vegetables. A diversity of plants and animals – life without monocultures. A pond. A quiet spot to rest, a kitchen full of peaches ready to can. And you see yourself, at work, at rest, in the kitchen, on the land, but there, and present, and ready.

Yeah, I can see that. I can see it all, practically taste it. It’s a good dream.

438 years ago today, the Holy League defeated the Turkish fleet at the Battle of Lepanto.

White founts falling in the courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run,
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips,
For the inmost sea of all the earth is shaken with his ships.
They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy,
They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea,
And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,
And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross…
— G. K. Chesterton, Lepanto

We had our first frost last night. This is almost three weeks early — per the extension service, our average frost date is supposed to be October 20.

Oh, well — the tomatoes were mostly done anyway (curse you, late blight!). The basil near the house was sheltered enough it didn’t get frosted, and hopefully the covers at the garden plot helped there.

Last night, I finally made it to the local soccer game that the kids have been going to. And joined in… besides some of the kids from their soccer league, their coaches plus various older kids (high school and college) and young adults are there. Plus a few (ahem) “mature” guys, like moi.

Wow, I am out of shape.

But I persevered. Gasped for breath a bit, like an old John Denver song:

Breathin’ like a freight train
Don’t know when I’ll get up again…

One of the college guys was kind enough to ask how I was doing —

“Pain?”

There was, of course, only one appropriate answer:

“Life is pain, Princess!”

Answer: A family of skunks in the neighborhood!

No, this is not theoretical. And, while skunk kittens are cute, seeing five of them romping in the neighbor’s yard wasn’t endearing…