Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.
Well, I started reading What Does It All Mean?: A Very Short Introduction to Philosophy, and even though it is very short and relatively simple, I’m not at all sure what any of it means. Why is my mind unable to wrap itself around philosophy?David Dark’s The Sacredness of Questioning Everything, which I mentioned last week, came in the mail.Still reading and enjoying Anna and the King with the kids.
Our homeschool cross country team competed in its first middle school meet on Saturday morning, running against several Catholic teams.Standing alongside the course, I like to encourage runners from other teams as well as our own, so I glance at the shirts and call out the name of the school. If an athlete racing toward me wears a jersey printed with, say, Wheaton Middle School, I would shout, “Good job, Wheaton! Keep up the pace! You look strong!” If the runner is from Bloomington North, I might say, “You look great, Bloomington!”As the Catholic runners tore around a corner on the home stretch, I got to shout things like, “Good job, Christ the King!”, “You look strong, Joan of Arc!”, “Keep it up, Saint Mark,” and “Way to go, Holy Spirit!”This pleased me to no end. I mentioned it to another coach. “It’s so fun,” I said, “to be shouting, ‘Way to go, Christ the King!'”She laughed and nodded. “I never thought of that, but it’s like we’re proclaiming truth all along the course.”Keep it up, Holy Spirit!
I already knew how to use commas in direct address, but I wanted to share this with you anyway, as I did with my composition students this week.
In the 1950s, my mother-in-law worked for a summer at HoneyRock Camp in northern Wisconsin. After hiking to the bath house one night, she stepped out and stared in wonder at the sky—ablaze! Unlike a sunset, this luminous color shifted and shimmered mysteriously across the night sky. She hesitated only a second before racing back toward the cabins, sounding the alarm.”It’s Jesus!” she cried out. “Everyone, come quick! The Lord is coming back! It’s the Lord! He’s returning!“People scrambled from their beds as she continued shrieking with joy at His return.They staggered out, rubbing their groggy eyes, and stared where she was pointing.”It’s not Jesus,” they informed her. “It’s the Northern Lights.”What a disappointment! To think you were witnessing the Second Coming of Christ only to be told it was just an aurora?(with apologies if you must sit through a promotional ad preceding the video—I recommend turning down the volume)Ah, but those auroras…Though I’ve only seen them through someone else’s lens, I’m mesmerized by the fluid motion of those wafting, swirling green lights.And, moved core-deep by my mother-in-law’s youthful thrill, joy, and delight in the coming of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I long to watch for Him with the same anticipation and readiness.
Monday’s post compels me to write raw.How much will I manage to share on the screen, though?
Credits:Question mark photo copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.Comma poster found at Punctuation Point.Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links.