God is With Us

For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given: and the government shall be upon His shoulder, and His name shall be called the Angel of Great Counsel, Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty God, Eternal Ruler, Prince of Peace, the Father of the World to Come . . . Great shall be His empire, and of His peace there shall be no end: He shall sit upon the throne of David and shall establish His Kingdom with righteousness, and shall strengthen it with justice, henceforth and forevermore.

- from Isaiah 9:6-7

It was a good Christmas - ice and snow on the ground, the sky clear and crisp. I could see my breath as I stood on the steps of the church. On Christmas morning itself the wind was strong, and it twirled the flurries in the air like moths around a light bulb in summer, but Christmas Eve the sun was at full height, so strong that I had to shut my eyes momentarily when I stepped outside. I remember most of all the midday Vespers and Liturgy of St. Basil. There were only three of us in the choir, only a handful of faithful in the church, but it was one of the most prayerful services I have experienced in a long time. I remember looking over the edge of the balcony at the altar and saw how one strip of light broke through the stained glass, and cast three separate spots on the steps leading up to the Royal Doors. A great thing is happening today, but how few of us will recognize it - God comes into this world and takes on human flesh. How deeply He loves us.

In preschool my son made me a paper mache heart-shaped box with a glass bead inside inscribed with the words I love you. At one point I thought I lost the bead and I was heartbroken, and then a few weeks later, when I was searching for money for candles at the bottom of my bag, I discovered it. I immediately stuck it in my coat pocket and zipped it closed. I didn't want to lose it again. During Vigil that night I reached into my pocket and ran my finger over the soft shell of the bead, thinking - my Sasha loves me and how I love him, yet how much more God loves me, so much it is beyond my human reason to comprehend.

I have let the bead remain in my coat pocket as a gentle reminder of God's love for me and for all humanity and it gives me incredible peace. For a moment, I too am in the cave, beholding His radiance, partaking of His very Incarnation.

The Hours of the Day

I stared out my bedroom window this morning and watched the snow continue to fall. Not really fall, but more swirl and spin, as if its only destination was itself, that it would never reach the ground. Winter has been playing a game with me - I thought she had arrived and then it was warm again. She blew in a storm and then retreated. Now I think she is finally here to stay.

I have never been frightened of the world. I have never considered not having children because of the horrific things that happen to children everyday, or because I am afraid of what they will have to engage when they grow up. But today I am afraid. I realize how quickly life can be taken from us. After September 11th, I was a little nervous to fly, but not enough that it prevented me from flying. Now the forces of evil are everywhere - in shopping malls, at churches, in schools. The world, just like the snow outside, is spinning out of control, but I cannot be afraid. I cannot teach my children to be afraid.

As I was sitting at my window looking at the snow and all of this was going through my head, I began to think about Islam and how Muslims pray several times a day, and how they actually adopted this from the Christian Hours - yet how many of us Orthodox besides those in the monasteries actually pray the Hours. We structure our day around preschool, meals, workouts, TV programs, and somehow we fit prayer into our established routine when and if we can. How much more appropriate it would be if we could structure our day around prayer, that when the clock turned to nine, noonday, three o'clock, we would just drop everything and recite the prayers of that hour. In the Church we sanctify everything, restoring it to its proper function - we bless water, fruit, oil - bread and wine become Christ's Body and Blood - and we sanctify time with the rule of Vespers, Compline, the Midnight Office, Matins, the Hours. How everything we need is right before us, yet how often we are blind to it.

Today I did my morning prayers, and then I did the Sixth Hour, and how complete I felt after doing this. I did not feel rushed or anxious. The laundry would still be there, the dishes, the bills - but this was the needful thing.

The world is uncertain, but Christ is the fullness of all things. My life on this earth is uncertain, but the Life of this world is forever. I will pray, be vigilant, my hope being that whenever it is my time I will be ready to stand before God and give an account of my life. I will not be afraid, because that is exactly what the evil one wants, for if we are afraid, we are turned away from the one thing that can assuage all fears.

Sandstorms

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace; besides all these, taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God."

- from Ephesians 6:10-17

I haven't been able to write lately, or really do much of anything other than my daily obligations. I believe this is because I have spent too much time thinking, too much time staring out the window at the bare branches of the trees, the empty plains, watching how the light and darkness come and go with the sun. I am in the middle of the desert, alone, and I have forgotten to cry out to God.

It was by chance that I was the reader on Sunday for this particular Epistle. It was a matter of logistics in the choir - I had only one bass and three sopranos, so I asked the bass if we could switch. I didn't even look at the reading beforehand. I just went downstairs, received a blessing and began the Prokeimenon - "The Lord is my strength and my song . . ."

I began the reading slowly, so as not to stumble over the words, but I did, because I was so engaged in their power that I couldn't manage their pronunciation. "For we are not contending with flesh and blood, but against the principalities . . ." Yes, too often I think my struggle is simply flesh and blood. If I concentrate hard enough I can be something else, feel something else - I alone am in control of my life and my emotions. I forget about that great struggle for my soul. I forget that I need God, that without faith and prayer I have no armor with which to shield myself from the fiery darts of evil.

I stand in the midst of the sandstorm, grains of the earth filling my mouth and ears and nose, the terrible winds encircling my body so that I cannot move. This is the time, this is the time to cry out with all my strength to God. I am not asking to be delivered from the sandstorm, only that I will be given the strength to endure, to fight that good fight to the end.

Singleness of Mind

"In a vision, St. Katharine received a ring from the Lord Jesus Himself as a sign of her betrothal to Him. This ring remains on her finger to this day." -from The Prologue from Ochrid

The story of St. Katharine's life never ceases to fascinate me, nor the lives of any of the saints for that matter. There is such a great difference between her life and mine, I am very often ashamed that I carry her name. I have not been called to martyrdom as she has, but certainly we all are called to be saints. I am married and have children, but I still should wear the ring of Christ in my heart signifying that I belong to Him first.

What I notice in the saints and, in fact, what made these men and women saints, was their singleness of mind. Their eyes did not falter, they remained on Christ. My eyes and my ears and all of my senses jump from one thing to the other. I can go days without standing before the Icons and praying, yet I desire to be good, to be one with Christ. It seems like a paradox, but then I am a paradox. Somehow, with the help of God and through the intercessions of the saints, I too will come to this singleness of mind. One day, I too, will bear Christ's ring on my heart.

That One Thing Extraordinary

I remember a friend commenting to me on the lawn of our college one afternoon as we neared graduation. "You're going to just get married and have kids, while the rest of us are going to have careers."

She was obviously very angry with me, and life in general. Now that I've written this statement down I realize how ridiculous it is. How is it that it took me more than seven years to get over it? Certainly it was a combination of things, most of all how someone who was supposed to love me could say something so insensitive, but more, I took her seriously for a long time - that somehow getting married and having children was a sellout. On the surface, I believed very much in my choice. Inside, I've wavered back and forth, forever doubting myself. Glory be to God that I no longer waver. I am where I am and I am happy.

I just finished reading a biography of Picasso, and was really struck with how a man of such artistic genius could be so tormented, and so childish. He had everything in the world and yet he was in despair, always tossing away all that could give him life and ultimate happiness. It was terrifying to read of his incredible darkness, but more, how many people chose to live in the midst of his darkness, all for the sake of being in the midst of the "extraordinary."

That one thing extraordinary - I have sought this for a long time. Yes, I would love to publish a book one day. And I must confess, I have, in my pettiness, imagined doing a reading in New York and having that same friend walk in and be amazed that I was able to succeed despite my "old-fashioned" choices.

But that one thing extraordinary for me is, as Father Paul often said, to be able to make the sign of the cross before each task that I undergo. To always be seeking my salvation - to lose myself - so that it is "no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me."

I am not saying that I will not, one day, be a successful writer, but my motivation for being successful has now altogether changed. I want it for myself, to be able to make a living at what I love, not because I need to prove myself to old college acquaintances.

The only one I need to perform for is God, and He isn't even asking me to perform. He is simply asking me to accept His love, and by doing so, live out His love in this fallen world.

Vechnaya Pomyat

Today is the year anniversary of my Godmother's death. I remember I learned about her death six days after the event, and that my friend, upon telling me, assumed I already knew. I remember hardly being able to breathe, and feeling utterly devoid of all physical sensations, except for the strange tingling in my fingertips and arms. My friend's voice over the telephone came in and out like the noise of traffic. I heard nothing more that she said.

Anyone who has ever been close to me in my life who has died has left with a warning. There was time to say goodbye, but my Godmother left this world without warning. Three weeks earlier I had written her a letter in Russian telling her about my pregnancy. The letter was sitting on my desk waiting to be edited and sent off. I didn't rush to send it - now I wish I had, not for her, but for myself.

There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of her and how very much I loved her. Through her simple note slipped into my college mailbox - If you would like to see the Vigil for the Elevation of the Cross, we would be happy to take you - I began my journey to the Orthodox Church. I met my husband sitting next to her at coffee hour. Indeed, everything in my life, after that service, changed. The happiness and peace I have today is, in many ways, due to her love and example. Apart from my husband and children, I consider her the greatest gift God has given me.

How I miss her - how I wish I could still write her a letter, even with all my Russian grammatical mistakes.

Lydia, tseluiu. Ya liubliu tibya.

Let us stand aright! Let us stand with fear!

"Let us stand aright! Let us stand with fear!" - this is what the Archangel Michael said to the other angels when Lucifer and his legions rebelled. Let us not turn away from God, but be attentive.

It is utterly incomprehensible to me - the idea that there are angels everywhere, that they worship with us at the Divine Liturgy, that they watch over and protect us, because I lack the purity of heart to see them. But they are there, always. When my son pulled down a five-drawer dresser when I was out of the room, and yet bore not one scratch, was the Archangel not there protecting him? When a friend, while driving a jeep in Iraq, was shot at, so closely, that bullets were scattered in the backseat, was this not the Archangel protecting him? There is so much holiness here on earth, yet most of the time we walk around with our eyes and ears shut - we do not see and we do not hear.

Today at Liturgy Sasha was being especially rebellious - I had to take him out three separate times. I was not able to focus on anything but just trying to get through the service without losing complete control. But I stood there and I did remember - I am now in the Kingdom and the angelic hosts surround us - Christ is in our midst. If I can just be attentive, keep myself turned toward God, then I really have nothing to fear. If I continue to be vigilant, then I will recognize Christ when he comes in His glory. I will hear Him say - Good and faithful servant, draw near.

Yes, let us be like the angels, who constantly stand in the presence of God, who do not rest, but forever keep their eyes and ears attuned to Him. Yes, let us be attentive, lest the Bridegroom comes and we are not there.

Post for Anna

I wanted to do a post for Anna, who I saw yesterday for the first time in over four months, and to tell her how lovely it was to see her.

Yes, I admit, I was very, very tired yesterday, as I always am on Sunday afternoons, and there was a point, when I was sitting there with Pavel and Sasha, that I considered not going to the birthday party. But I also knew I really wanted to see Anna again, and that Sasha would enjoy jumping on larger-than-life trampolines, so I pulled myself up, drank an espresso and managed to make myself and my children look somewhat presentable.

The drive into town was stunning - one of the most exquisite fall days I have experienced in Colorado. The sun was spread over the fields so brilliantly that it seemed I could see every dust particle and tiny insect floating in its rays. I thought of Anna, and how the day was, in a way, a gift from her, as I would have stayed inside all day had I not gone into town to see her.

When I used the word "lovely" earlier, it seemed to me somewhat old-fashioned and formal, a word I had a preference for when writing to my Grandmother, but "lovely" is the only word which seems appropriate when I was describing how it was for me to see Anna, because this is exactly the word I would use to describe Anna - lovely.

Between ushering children on and off trampolines, looking for matches to light birthday candles (it was absolutely amazing to me that not one parent in the group smoked), and nursing Pavel, we actually didn't get to talk all that much, but it was enough to just be in her company - to hear her laugh, which I love, and watch her scurry to and fro snapping pictures. She is full of life.

When I got home, my husband asked me how the party was, and I told him how much I enjoyed myself. Yes, Anna is a very nice woman. I'm glad you're friends with her - you should see her more often. You know, friendship takes work.

Yes, it does. Friendship does take work. In our very hectic lives, friendships are the things we often move to the bottom of our lists because it doesn't have a due date, when it is the very thing we need most.

Sitting in the November sun, sipping wine and jumping from one subject to another like fireflies, this is where life is. Please forgive me, Anna, for forgetting this too often.

Because there are other things that are more important

"Fear and tremling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me. And I say, "O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest; yea, I would wander afar, I would lodge in the wilderness, I would haste to find me a shelter from the raging wind and tempest."
- from Psalm 55

Today I was incredibly, almost frighteningly sad. It has been a long time since I was really depressed, and I had forgotten almost what it was like. I was driving home and both my children were asleep in their car seats. It was late afternoon. The sky was a dull blue, and with each hill I drove over I was confronted with the same image - brown, forlorn grass, white and red farm houses, one or two elm trees, a few crisp brown leaves dangling from their dark branches. There was no oncoming traffic and I felt very much alone, that I did not belong in this place, this life, that I had nothing to offer to anyone anymore.

When I arrived at my house, my children woke up. Pavel needed to be fed and Sasha needed help getting out of the car. Melancholia still loomed over me, but I realized I had duties that had to be attended to, whether or not I felt like it.

While putting away the groceries, Florence called, and her sweet, Midwestern voice filled the room. I boasted proudly of my going to the Pediatrician's, the grocery store and the wine store with two children at peak hour without once losing my cool.

"I'm so proud of you," she said. Florence also hates grocery shopping, especially when it is crowded, and like me, manages to run her cart into at least one person while turning a corner. We talked for a little while about each of our days, and then she told me that she had seen on the news that three more soldiers had died in Iraq - three human souls with families - young, full of life, and now they're gone.

I have no more words, only that I do not know how these families will do it. Somehow they will have to do it, though. They will have to continue to live without the men who were the most precious to them.

How unimportant I and all my silly emotions became in that moment, when I was confronted with what real sadness is, when I realized that all these things we take for granted can be taken from us in an instant.

Odi et amo

"I hate and love. You question "How?" I lack an answer . . .

- Catullus

We all have our love/hate relationships, and as my dearest friends know, mine is with television. A close second is any carbonated beverage. Yes, I confess, I have been watching a lot of television lately, and not witty British sitcoms or gourmet cooking shows, but ridiculous, almost asinine programs which involve unrealistic surgical procedures. Every week I rise from the sofa cursing myself for yet again falling into the clutches of these bad actors, and even worse writers, but then I find myself reverting to sunken body and brain status the next week. I am always disappointed and I am always ashamed of myself.

For awhile I actually plunged into the addiction, telling myself that I was simply overwrought and I deserved a break from everything, but if it was truly a break, wouldn't I return from my viewing retreat refreshed, invigorated, not more overwrought?

What we love about television is that we are able to escape from the world completely, but more, we like to be voyeurs, somehow getting a taste of the fast-paced and sexy life without bearing the consequences of it ourselves. At least, this is what I seem to love about television. But, after awhile, it loses its glamour, because I realize I am being deceived. This kind of drama cannot possibly happen to the same group of people in the same hospital, neighborhood, etc. But, of late, I have realized the biggest deception is how easily these characters get over their drama - a death, a divorce, loss of a friend or lover. Soon, everyone is laughing again as if tragedy did not enter their lives only a few weeks ago.

Laughter - it is humanity's gift - Don't take life so seriously - lighten up - it's not that big of a deal. As an over sensitive, over-the-top dramatic romantic, I have always taken offense at this mantra, but now, I think perhaps it's just a case of being too emotionally engaged in everything I confront, which makes the world's influence a little more dangerous for me in particular. Of course I'm not going to start a "Kill your T.V.!" campaign, but I am going to try not to watch any more sitcoms.

Day One: I will not watch ABC tonight. I will sing to myself - Be braaaaave, Piglet! I will ignore the bottle of Crush luring me to the ice box with its tantalizing orange glow . . .

Okay, Katya, one thing at a time.

Oversize Load

On a recent trip to California, I discovered what real traffic is. I had forgotten one can sit for forty-five minutes on a bridge, and not due to an accident, but simply from an overabundance of cars. Because I was in no particular hurry, I scanned the people in the cars surrounding me - they drank coffee, ate muffins, applied mascara, talked on cell-phones, even read the paper. No one looked all that distressed. I exhaled - Ahhh, I'm home.

Here, I have found, traffic is getting stuck behind a slow-moving vehicle - a horse trailer, a tractor or front-loader, or just a lost car from Kansas or Nebraska driving twenty miles under the speed limit. Because most of the highways here are two-lane with bad visibility, it can be the most aggravating thing in the world, much more than city traffic, because in this case it is one car that is delaying you with no sign of an intention to pull over. The feeling is more akin to something being against you than - Akkkkh! Traffic.

Today my traffic happened to be a house. Yes, a house - a rather big white house with green shutters seated on the back of a truck. Two trucks preceded and followed it - lights blinking, orange flags waving, and the larger than life yellow sign - as if it wasn't already obvious enough - OVERSIZE LOAD.

I sat back and turned up the radio, residing myself to the fact that I would be even later to the appointment I was already running late for. I watched the house, somehow balancing itself on that little panel of truck. The wind was heavy that day, and as much as houses are able, it swayed with the elements. It became almost a performance - with the red lights, orange flags, the yellow sign, all seeming to accompany the somber rocking of this one white house.

I have been angry lately, and for no reason that I can think of other than I'm a little overtired. I'm short-fused - tiny things set me off - and I feel that, at times, my emotions are out of my control. No one has suffered more from my outbursts than my husband, but probably strangers in society as well, as I have not any smiles or kind words to offer of late.

It was, in that moment, behind that house, that I realized my anger was the oversize load. That I was the truck, carrying a burden too cumbersome for me. Christ's yoke is light, but sin is heavy, and affects those around you. There are little lights flashing, flags waving, signs reading - Ostorozhno! Be aware! We literally teeter back and forth, back and forth, until we completely tumble over. Yet we continue to sin, preferring our own load to that of Christ's. After all, what would we do without our anger, pride, envy, greed? We would be naked, at a complete loss.

I decided then that I would try not to be so angry, as I really have nothing to be angry about. Perhaps anger isn't even the right word, but an inability to be thankful to God for everything that I have. I'm too busy looking for that which I do not have, and this search has become very, very burdensome.

So today I say - thank you - for my family, for my friends, for my health, for my Church, but most of all, thank you for the ability to see, for a moment, into my own soul.

Obviously I failed BIO 101

Last night I was feeling rather persnickety, probably as a result of being in the house all day without any human contact other than young children, so I took it upon myself to go visit Nightingale as she finished up with her milking. She was joyfully taken aback, as my visits to the barn are rare.

"Well, hello!" She said, all smiles.

Though Nightingale would adamantly disagree, I find she is the most beautiful when she is out in the barn - boots covered in mud and manure, iodine stained jeans, and hair swept messily into a ponytail. I imagine it is because she radiates a certain calmness - she is fully in the moment, not thinking of anything else except taking care of her Holsteins.

I presented flower-shaped chocolates, wrapped in shiny green foil.

"Oh, yum! But you have to have one too." Nightingale is the most delightful to give treats to, because she enjoys them so much, whether it be homemade enchiladas, eclairs or beef lo mein.

We must have been a sight, standing in the barn between the two rows of cows, nibbling on our chocolates. I always am somehow dressed inappropriately for my visits - that night it was a black short coat with fur collar and chandelier paper mache earrings. When am I going to finally admit to the fact that I no longer live in New York?

"So, how are you today?" she asked.

"I'm feeling persnickety."

"Any particular reason?"

"I don't know." And then we talked about the possible reason for my persnicketiness.

At one point I heard a great rush of water, and I thought some sort of pipe line had broken, but it turned out to be merely a cow dispelling fluid.

"My goodness - did he just go to the bathroom?" I asked.

"Yes, she just did," she laughed out.

Yes, of course, when was the last time someone was able to milk a male Holstein? Obviously, I need some reeducation on the facts of life, but when I left that night, I was no longer persnickety. In fact, I was quite exuberant. I saw Nightingale, and I was able to laugh at myself.

The First Snow

It was a lovely Sunday. We had our first snow, and not the kind with 60mph winds and the rebirth of the Abominable Snow Monster, but a light blanket of soft, white snow. The autumn leaves were still on the line of silver maples across the way, so that it seemed winter had arrived and yet had not yet gained entrance.

Nightingale commented laughingly - "Hopefully all the snow will melt tomorrow, and the ground can soak up all that niiiiice moisture." She was smiling, but I also know she was serious. The snow is an aesthetic thing to me, but for her, and most of the people out here, it is life. To not have enough moisture means that the ground will not necessarily yield a good crop, or a crop at all, which means thousands of dollars lost, because they have nothing to sell, or they have to buy feed for their animals. Never before have I understood so clearly the petition during the Great Litany - "For seasonal weather, for abundance of the fruits of the earth, and for peaceful times, let us pray to the Lord. Lord, have mercy!"

I really do not know much about the farming life, and I have made little effort to know more, but I do know this - It is both a hard life, and a rich life, and it is one that takes much faith, because working really hard does not necessarily mean gain. Ultimately you must depend on the earth, and on God to send rain and snow, for your animals to be kept from sickness and death, so that every time moisture comes, you find yourself saying - Glory be to God for all things! But you must also, somehow, when it does not rain, still say - Glory be to God for all things!

I find I spend a lot of time looking up at the sky here, much more than I have ever done in my life, both because out here it seems limitless, but also because it is the promise of what is to come - will it bring hail, snow, rain, heat? And every time I ask this question I think of God, that everything we have comes from Him, and it reminds me to be faithful.

Jean-Luc not quite Laduree, but close

Jean-Luc did arrive safely, which I'm sure will be a great comfort to my readership. The FedEx employee was a little taken aback, I think, at my overzealous gallop to her truck, but when I explained it was a package of French macaroons, she understood my eagerness.

Of course, I did have to exhibit a little self-control, as Sasha's already big, brown eyes, upon seeing the box, widened still more, and his cute, petite voice asked - what's that?

-Special Mommy cookies.

-May I have a cookie, please?

-No-o-on! C'est le mien! (Actual tears began to form) - Okay, you may have one and I will have one. (And we indulged - he had a chocolate-hazelnut, I, a pistachio. It was lovely.)

After sampling all six flavors, I realized that the genius of the macaroon is its balance of flavors and textures. A candy, meringue-like top, then soft, chiffon cake, and in the middle, flavored almond paste. Almond paste - the ingredient that intrigues every time.

They were delicious, divine, but what I missed was a certain amount of complexity, which I tasted with Laduree macaroon - noticeably absent was a rosewater aftertaste.

I think I can accept Jean-Luc, as he has traveled so far, and I don't think it is the most practical for me to fly to Paris once a week, as it is just a cookie - but a marvelous cookie at that.

The Traveling Macaroon

At times I know I am a chronic procrastinator. At other times I wonder if I have taken procrastination to a whole new level.

My everyday life consists of the same, monotonous tasks, which never, ever reach completion. Sometimes, though, a rare, wonderous moment occurs - a spotless laundry table (Olivia, my comrade!), a sparkling kitchen, a bedroom chair sans shoes, hairdryer and clothes, but these moments, as I said, are rare, so I live for the little firework celebrations I create for myself. Mostly, I am ashamed to say, I find these on the Internet - like checking friends' blogsites several times a day, or, going to Amazon.com and looking at $3,000 espresso machines - I mean, how good of a cappuccino can you get?

My most recent procrastinatory indulgence was the search for the Laduree macaroon. Last year, I was blessed to be able to vacation in Paris, and it was while there that I discovered these jam-filled, meringue-like pastry Xanadus. I brought several boxes home, consumed all of them in a few days, oblivious to the fact that I could order them from a gourmet shop in New York.

My discovery of L'Epicerie.com could be my ultimate downfall, but, right now, I am pleased to report that my very own box of macaroons is on its way. I probably should give this box a name, considering the amount of time and emotion I have put into acquiring it - Jean-Luc Pierre Francois de Guisse seems fitting, I think. (Perhaps this is the right place to mention that my shipping cost for this long-sought Jean-Luc is almost as much as the illustrious Jean-Luc himself.)

As if acquiring the macaroon wasn't enough, I have actually been stalking it by regularly checking fedex.com. Jean-Luc Pierre Francois de Guisse was picked up in Brooklyn at 5:45pm on Tuesday, and left Brooklyn at 10:06pm, where he traveled to Newark, NJ for a short stay, and then departed Newark at 11:03pm. Wednesday and Thursday his wherabouts are unknown, but I have discovered that this morning at 7:04am he arrived at the FedEx facility in Nebraska only 45 minutes away, and at 7:08am, he boarded a FedEx vehicle for delivery, meaning he should be arriving sometime today.

I have done nothing since I received this rapturous news, but, with palpitating heart, pressed my nose to the living room window like a captain's wife looking out at the sea from her widow's walk. It is only hours until I will be united with my Jean-Luc!

I would like to think that, as Proust forever transformed the madeline by glorifying it in his Remembrance of Things Past, perhaps I will transform forever the macaroon.

Or, perhaps, more likely than not, I'm just crazy.

The Great Line

"The terrible thing, the almost impossible thing, is to hand over your whole self - all your wishes and precautions - to Christ. But it is far easier than what we are all trying to do instead. For what we are trying to do is to remain what we call "ourselves," to keep personal happiness as our great aim in life, and yet at the same time be "good."

-from Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis

Orthodoxy is to follow the middle way, always balancing yourself between one extreme and the next. Even in Orthodoxy it is easy to forget about Christ, when you try to over-theologize, or, in my case, justify my actions to make myself believe I have not sinned when my heart knows I have sinned.

Sunday I attended a Czechoslovakian version of Oktoberfest, which is the main fundraiser for the Church I attend. The weather had turned suddenly cold, so that I had to wrap myself in a heavy jacket, and run from one heated building to the next as frostbitten easterly winds twirled over my ears and face. I ate pierogi and kolbasi, halushki and halupki, which is the Slovak way of saying potatoes, cabbage and meat, prepared in various ways. These warm Slavic foods felt good in my mouth as I listened to the wind outside and watched shivering, red faced men and women scatter in, slamming the doors loudly behind them. I danced the polka and waltz to the haunting, melodic accordion. I had two shots of a Slavic whiskey called kolitsa, and I felt really happy. I laughed a lot. My children were with my husband and I felt a heightened sense of freedom, of being able to do anything in the world.

I would not consider any of these actions sinful in themselves. To enjoy life, to find joy in the earthy blessings that God has bestowed - this is holy - but looking back at a picture of myself, of a certain moment when I leaned over the bar and sipped from a shot glass I saw my soul. I was extremely aware of my ability to appear sophisticated, witty and sexy, and I took much pleasure in drawing a small audience to myself. Now I realize,that during this time, I did not think about God once. I did not consider those around me and how my behavior affected them. I only considered myself. If Christ had come in all his glory, in that moment, I would not have recognized Him, and this realization fills me with extreme shame and sorrow. I understand how very attached I am to this world. How I want so much to be accepted by it, that, more often than not, I am serving the world and not Christ.

I think about the saints, those great men and women who gave up everything to serve Christ. They were not of this world, even while living in this world. I know this is also what is required of me if I am to enter into the Kingdom. At one point I must cross that great line between knowing what I am supposed to do and actually doing it.

What Would Be Would Be

There was nothing but land: not a country at all, but the material out of which countries are made. I had the feeling that the world was left behind, that we had got over the edge of it, and were outside man's jurisdiction. I had never before looked up at the sky when there was not a familiar mountain ridge against it. But this was the complete dome of heaven, all there was of it. Between the earth and that sky I felt erased, blotted out. I did not say my prayers that night: here, I felt, what would be would be. - from Cather's My Antonia

What would be would be. It's a difficult concept - to accept where we are right now. I'm approaching my fourth year on the high plains of rural America, and perhaps I have only now begun to understand that God has a purpose for me here. I do feel erased, blotted out, as I sit at my window looking out at the great expanse of golden colored grass rolling away from me like the sea. I have not heard a sound in two hours. But this is what I need, for my ego and all its presumptions to be blotted out so that I can come to love and serve God. At this moment I am content. I know I am where God wants me to be and I understand what will be will be.