WidowG_Slice's Xanga

On Prophets and Sorting Things Out

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 13:23:52 GMT

All right, so i was watching a documentary on the Dixie Chicks called "Shut up and Sing" --- a phrase that since its inception has made the blood boil under my skin and rise to goose-bumps. I have felt a solidarity with them in all their trials and all their successes. I have decided they are prophets, to be revered.

You can find prophets anywhere. Another one is Audrey--born in 2000 ("The year of the Dragon!" she tells me) who sings in the children's choir at St. Luke's, and who the other adults say is "always off in space". Space? Maybe. Deep within the heart of the Creator? Definitely. We line up near a unisex bathroom labeled, "UNISEX". Audrey one Sunday realized that her perfect tiny hand could exactly cover the letters "UNI" if she held her hand just right. I laughed with everything i had in me. She asked, "Why are you laughing?" and what could i answer? I shouldn't laugh, i should tell her not to make attempts at adult humor .... this isn't a particularly good example of what a special child she is, but i enjoy finding my prophets in strange places.

Matt and i are doing daily devotions now. It's one of our new lifestyle changes so we can get into good patterns as husband and wife. We're also exercising 3 times a week (um, starting yesterday. I'm hoping we stick with it!)

but what made me remember the Dixie Chicks is what we read in our morning prayer (using the daily scriptures found in week 2 of Lent in the Book of Common Prayer)

John 4:44---"Now Jesus himself had pointed out that a prophet has no honor in his own country."

So true. In the song "Lubbock or Leave it" Natalie sings about how hard it is to be hated in your own hometown. Buddy Holly is also from Lubbock, and Natalie sings to the huge statue of him in the airport, "I hear they hate me now just like they hated you. Maybe when I'm dead and gone I'm gonna get a statue too!"

that's how she phrases it. Being a mystic or a prophet is insanely difficult and rewarding. Sometimes the balance of "difficult and rewarding" is off. The best way i have to phrase it is that it's like, "Being in exile IN the promised land" not in exile FROM the promised land, but IN it. savvy?

Prayer isn't peaceful. Meditation especially. Prayer is when you talk, Meditation is when you Listen. Often it's when i see my pain connected with a greater pain and it brings me to tears. Often it's when i see my love connected with a greater love and it brings me to tears. Often it just brings me to tears and i cannot figure out why.

But i can see it in other people -- others whose lives have been changed by listening and not backing down once they've heard.

The Dixie Chicks
Audrey
Mother Beth
Joe Nolan(.com)
Rutendo

We are still waiting to hear back from the Bishop to find out whether or not we can get married within the Episcopal Church. Maybe the answer will be yes, maybe the answer will be no, and maybe the answer will be not yet. When thinking about this---this great big BLOCK in my plans like a huge rock in the road or like having to winch a truck out of the mud--- i realized i had no idea what this man whose signature i crave looks like. So i looked him up HERE. He looks friendly and wise, and i read a beautiful letter he wrote HERE and i see from all of this that i can put my trust in him without knowing him.

We plan to have our reception at a castle HERE, and if we cannot get married in the church, we will keep the "church date" of May 31 and have both our ceremony AND our reception at the castle. So we have a Plan A (a church ceremony followed by a castle reception), a Plan B (ceremony and reception at the castle), a date (May 31), and a whole lot of LOVE

"Would you mind being a potted plant?" Our first pre-marital counseling session

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 17:40:43 GMT

We had our first session with the "pre-marital" counselor yesterday, and i'm really just thoroughly disappointed and frustrated. Counseling is a pre-requisite to getting married in pretty much any church. I was super excited about doing it, and now i'm just super let-down. I was just expecting something wildly different because of how highly recommended this guy came to us. He's the marriage counselor for the whole diocese and so i'm not sure what choice we have in who we talk to...so i guess we'll just roll with the punches.

First, Dude just had a bad vibe, man. You know how some people just make your hairs stand on end and make you put up your shields?

It was the little things, like the fact that he completely ignored me the entire time. About 40 minutes in, he asked, "Guinevere, do you mind if i treat you like a potted plant?" and i thought he meant we were going to role play and Matt would have to water me or something. So, i just busied myself with photosynthesizing and let the men have their manly talk about men things while i was a plant. Then he never got back to the plant analogy, he just meant, "i'm going to ignore you for the rest of the session, as though you were a plant". aha. Matt and i talk things through--a lot--so none of the things he and Mr. Treat-Guinevere-Like-A-Plant dude were talking about offered any new startling insight--i'd heard it all before! I'm really hoping this is some kind of strategy and that next time he'll talk to me more, perhaps allowing matt to be a plant? [this isn't useful to us, but i'm sure it's great for some couples!] I didn't even get so far as to mention the fact that i have a brother. I got as far as saying i went to Sewanee, majored in forestry, am employed in my third post-college job and that my parents are married. He then wanted to talk about the seminary at Sewanee and i said that the seminary is the graduate school but on the same campus, and that i was there as an undergraduate and majored in forestry and he said, "Ah. Forestry! So you're a Michigan State Grad, eh?" I said, "No, i just got done telling you about Sewanee, remember?" and he gave me a brushed-off apology and started talking to matt again. Clearly, he wasn't listening while i was talking about undergrad at Sewanee. Damn him. At the end, he asked me what i had learned during our session, and i smiled huge and said, "Absolutely nothing!" and then had to pay him...

Anyway, i was so angry with how the conversation went that i had a super hard time getting to sleep and woke up sore and cranky.

He gave us homework: a 7-page questionnaire with impossibly ambivalent questions that i'm having a hard time answering .... so i decided to edit them somewhat. He keeps referring to my "future partner" for instance. It ticks me off cuz matt's already my partner, so i crossed out the "future" from every single question and it makes them easier to answer. Here's one of my answers, for instance:

Q: "When you (write a positive comment about your future partner):
A: SING

Q: "I feel (write a positive emotion that you feel):
A: GROOVY

but i'm second-guessing myself because i don't want him picking apart these responses....the questions and my answers seem relatively meaningless, since matt and i discuss everything important and unimportant already, every day!

some more examples....

his Q: Love is usually having to say:
my A: Love has nothing to do with what you say.

Q: Describe some of the ways to best help your children grow and mature.
A: I'll have to have them first. Each child (read: human being) is different.

Q: In a happy family, children should be:
A: loved
Q:...and not
A: puppets

...that last one is so true...

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 15:30:14 GMT

Yesterday we had our first appointment with the priest who will be performing our ceremony. We had a deeply honest and open two-hour conversation about our childhoods, families, and how we came together and why we’ve come together so well. Things are coming into place and I feel like a lot of the initial pressure has been lifted in one way or another. I’ve picked out colors, purchased matt’s ring (it’s being crafted as we speak, and I should have it by mid-march , my dress, my bridesmaid dresses, my-save-the-date cards (which aren’t being sent until we’ve set a date , working out a guest list, and generally doing a lot of ungrounded worrying.

Mother Beth gave us several readings to consider and I’ve been learning a lot about why marriage is a sacrament, a celebration, a blessing, and a Christian thing. I’ve been saying this for a while (and I didn’t know until yesterday that it’s actually pretty standard) but I feel that being with Matt lets me finally understand a small portion of Christ’s love for each of us, and that being loved by Matt allows me to be a more loving person to the rest of the world, thereby making it easier to answer Christ’s call to love each and every person I encounter. That’s why people get married—because making a loving commitment to that one specific person brings you closer to the Creator, closer to the ultimate truth, closer to fine, closer to entering into God’s Reign. That's a pretty heavy load, and i trust Matt with it. I hope each and every one of you can find someone you trust that much --- not just trust with your life, but trust with the shakedown of your eternal life. E-friggin-ternity.

I also found out that a "best man" was traditionally the man who accompanied the groom to a neighboring village. The groom picked out a girl to abduct, and the best man was supposed to distract the girl's family or beat them/club them/otherwise fight them off if necessary while the groom dragged the abducted girl back to his dwelling.

Dwell in God's Love until next time friends.

On Trying to Set a Date

Tue, 08 Jan 2008 16:04:27 GMT

i wish getting married COULD be forefront in my mind, but it's not. The "real world" is still very present and demanding. I don't know how anybody gets the time to plan a wedding. It will be worth it in the end, because in the end, no matter what, we will be left with a MARRIAGE!

I've never been that little girl who pictures a picture-perfect-princess wedding, and i've never had much of a dream or vision, and my family doesn't have any 'traditions' to fall back on, so here goes:

When I envision our wedding, I picture just our family and the people-who-are-like family (dear friends who i/he/we love dearly), in the same place at the same time for the first time, in a place where Matt and I both feel at peace. This puts St. Luke's at the very top, and I'm pushing for "simple and soon!" We've been married in our hearts a long time, and it's coming time to have it recognized outside of our hearts!

I really want our marriage to be blessed by and recognized by our church, where matt and i both sing in the choir, and the only church where we have both felt comfortable together. However, we have come across another unexpected obstacle: because one or more of us has previously been married, we need special permission from the Bishop before we are allowed to reserve a date within the church. Mother Beth says the turn around time once something hits the Bishop's desk is 4 weeks. FOUR WEEKS before we can set a date?!?!?!?! GAAAAAAAAH! Ok. so....i'm posing a question to people who might know stuff about things: how likely is it that he will say, "NO DICE!" to the whole marriage idea? [in which case, um....well, we'll move on to Plan B. Plan B is as follows : think of a Plan C]

So, give me FIVE WEEKS (one week to get it on the Bishop's desk, four weeks to approve it) before asking me more questions, but do offer advice at any time. I'm very confused about how to go about things. i've read all the most recent and most antiquated stuff on it, and some things in between.

How much lead-time do people need to travel to a wedding? Is 8 weeks enough? I am still hoping for a spring wedding (this spring), but since we can't set a date until mid-february at the earliest, well, it leaves things up in the air as to "when" .... and i don't know how much lead-time photographers, caterers, florists, etc need in this area and i was hoping to therefore skirt around the busy "wedding season".

Here's the list of things that are important to me:
1] the people who will be there (the good people in our lives!)
2] the ceremony
3] the photography (gotta have something to show the grandkiddies)

Here's an open offer to anyone :

You can sleep on our floor (if you clear a space first) and i will feed you (poorly) if you plan all this for us.

The things that change when you get engaged, and some answers to all your F.A.Q

Fri, 28 Dec 2007 21:20:01 GMT

1] you get hit on WAY more [guys see the ring and suddenly i'm like the forbidden apple or something]
2] strangers/strange-acquaintances suddenly become very interested in your life
3] people begin incessantly asking the question, "HAVE YOU SET A DATE YET?" [the answer is: not yet, however we really really want to, but all the clergy/organist/etc at our church (our first choice for location) are on vacation.
4] people want to know how he proposed [how come no one ever wants to know the other mushy stuff Matt does?] here's the story: It was Christmas Eve, around 3pm, and we were alone in our apartment as per usual. We had a lot of plans for that evening and for Christmas, so we wanted to exchange gifts early. I was totally surprised to see my leather jacket with its lining repaired!!! that leather jacket means SOOOOOO much to me that i started to cry [i bought it at a vintage store named "Wiffinpoofs" in Winchester, TN many years ago, and i'm kinda known for that jacket, as in, "oh, there goes Guinevere and her leather jacket!" and if there were a fire, it would be one of the few things i would try to grab]. However, the lining had become totally torn so that i could hardly get my arms in anymore, and i decided it was too expensive to fix it, so matt surprised me by having it done for me!!! Here is a picture of me in college wearing that jacket so you know what i'm talking about:

So, i was totally surprised and started to cry, and then he said, "i have one more gift for you!" and he got down on one knee and the rest is history. I said, "yes". he said, "I'm not very good at proposing" as though it's something he does all the time, like, "I'm not very good at bowling". He's cute. I'm marrying him. Anyhow, then we went to his parents' house to hang out with his fam, then we went and sung a Midnight Mass, and then we drove to my parents' house (getting in a little after 2am, and waking up a little after 5am). Christmas was a blur, and i didn't want to distract too much from Jesus (the Reason for the season) so i stayed pretty low-key. Anyhow, back to the list i was making:
5] i smile way more than usual
6] and laugh way more than usual
7] everyone asks, "Really?" um, yeah. really.
8] they also ask, "is it real?" i'll tell you the same thing i told you when you asked, "is it real?" about my tattoo: YES!!! i'm an honest gal. maybe i don't seem like the tattooed type, or the marriage type, but here i am : tattooed, engaged, and currently watching fat snowflakes fall all around.

...i'll finish this list later

actually, i am overjoyed. overwhelmed. verklempt.

my ring is gorgeous. it's perfect for me--simple, elegant, dainty --- not at all cumbersome for someone who works with her hands as much as i do. Also, it looks just like the ring i used to play with as a little girl --- that ring was a piece of costume jewelry that goes back at least to age four, when my mom used to wrap it with string so that it would fit my finger and i'd run around my preschool pretending to be engaged/married. It was very meaningful to me, and matt had no idea i had such memories when he chose my engagement ring. He's amazing.

it came with a matching wedding band. i'm stoked cuz that means i'm actually getting married.

i bought some wedding magazines the other day. i'm a bride-to-be! wowwwwwwwweeeeeee!

everyone who has already gotten married: GIVE ME ADVICE!!!

The plan is to do something small. we'd love to do it at the church where we sing as early as this spring (why be engaged when what you want is to be married?). I'll keep you posted as to dates and plans and i love all y'all.

A Christmas Story

Fri, 21 Dec 2007 18:39:43 GMT

I'm re-posting this from two years ago. I think you'll like it :

A Christmas Story for Grundy County, Tennessee
Written Christmas Day, 2005
By Guinevere A. Barr

The man’s hair grew long and sparse and yellow-white like the sinews of a rump-roast. His flannel shirt could not quite button over the expanse of his torso, and so his belly bulged out from under it. The man sat behind the liquor counter while his little finger excavated his fuzzy exposed navel as he watched old NasCar races late into the night.

A tweaker came in to Monteagle Liquor & Wines, a woman, shaking and frail—probably in her early 20’s but who could know her age when so much hair and so many teeth are missing and when oozing scabs cover her face. She looked around her hurriedly as though in frantic search. “This is it! It’s finally here!” she exclaimed.

The man behind the counter raised one yellowing eyebrow and grunted, “Huh?”
She ran to the counter and grasped his hand. “The baby! He’ll be born tonight!”
“Yes, uh” said the man, “And Merry Christmas to you too.”
“God was homeless, don’t you see?” she kept on, “God was homeless for a night and no one would take him in to be born and now a baby’s gonna be born just like that and we can’t do nothing but know it’s going to happen.”
“Yes ma’am. You have a merry Christmas,” the man agreed, one eye still watching the previously-aired race.

***

A young woman, belly protruding further than that of the man behind the liquor counter, sat watching the evening news on a fuzzy TV screen on cat-hair covered couch dotted with cigarette burns, eating her frosted flakes and milk. Her mother was hurrying, trying to get ready for Midnight Mass.
“You know, you really ought to come,” nudged her mother, “You could use some more Jesus in your life.”
“Aw, Maw—I’m too big to even get myself up out of this chair—I ain’t going nowhere.”
“Suit yourself” said her mother, as she spritzed herself in ‘Just LIKE! Chanel No. 5’.
The news came back on. “Today, Christians across the globe celebrate the humble birth of the world’s saviour, isn’t that right, Rita?”
“Yes Bob. On a sadder note, as families gather across the nation to celebrate the Holidays, thousands of U.S. soldiers will not be making it home this season…”
“Yeah, like my Ricky” the girl told the television, rubbing her belly.
The newscaster continued. “Grundy County mourns the loss of one of its own tonight, Richard LaDétritus, Private First Class and Grundy County High School class of 2004 died in an explosion near Fallujah. Flags will be flown at half…”
Tiffany dropped her cereal bowl, spilling the milk on her legs.
“Now see,” said her mother, “See what you done gone and did? Nobody told you cuz you ain’t family. If you’d a married him like I’d said you’d be getting widow’s benefits right now from the gov’nment, but now who’s gonna…”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Tiffany wailed.
The mother checked her watch. “Well, I’m taking the car,” she said, kissing Tiffany on the head—tousling the girl’s mousy brown curls. “We’ll sort this all through tonight, dear.”

***

The tweaker ran into the Waffle House, even more disheveled than she had been before.
The place was empty save for two late-night workers and a grizzly man sipping coffee at the counter.
“As shepherds watched their flocks by night, An angel, brighter that the sun’s own light, appeared in air, and gently said, Fear not! Be not afraid!”
“Yes,” said the man scrubbing the grill. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
“But don’t you see?” she frenzied, “The angel came to them to tell them the God would be born alone and he needed company, and I’m telling you God still needs company.”
“Yes, ma’am,” agreed the man and his dishrag.

***
Tiffany was writhing on the floor, wailing and pounding her fists. “My Ricky! My Ricky!” she was screaming—all alone in the house—when suddenly something inside her *popped*
She snapped out of it.
Their phone-line had been disconnected.
She grabbed her coat and walked outside, clutching her spilling belly.

***
The girl made it to the intersection of I-24 and 41A before she could go no further. She crouched down on the dirty gray snow-banks of the merging lane and tried to flag someone down.

***
“It’s 12 O’clock! Merry Christmas” said the dispatcher.
“Merry Christmas” said the breaker.
“Merry Christmas,” said the drivers, one after the other. “Merry Christmas.”
Bill was shifting into low-gear and about to merge onto East-bound 24 when he saw the desperate woman curled up on the ground. He flicked on his “emergency” lights and leapt out of the truck.

***
The tweaker ran into the Regency Inn—that rat-infested piss-stenched dive—and grabbed the overnight desk-jockey by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you see!?” She screamed. “It’s a miracle! A baby born to us—against all odds—born into the most desolate of situations to the dirtiest world all alone, all alone! Never even given a fighting chance! Against all odds—God came to us—all alone!”
“Yes,” agreed the man, “Merry Christmas”.
“No!” she said, “You must come! Even God can’t be alone on Christmas!”
The deskman buzzed the police.

***
Bill buzzed into the dispatcher, “There’s a woman out here on the side of the highway, looking like she’s about to, uh, enter into her womanly trials” he said. "She's gonna need some help."
"So help her, Bill!" said the dispatcher. "It's Christmas!"
***

Two policemen mumbled a “Merry Christmas” to the man behind the desk as they walked in, handcuffed the Tweaker, and led her out into the cold.
She curled up in the backseat of their car muttering things like, “No baby should be born alone to a strange world that doesn’t want him,” and, “Not even God should be alone on Christmas”.
The policemen smoked cigarettes and ignored the woman.
Until they saw the bright flashing lights at the intersection of I-24 and 41-A.

***
The flashing of the semi’s emergency lights drew the attention of the wise men.

From the Regency Inn, you could see the flashing emergency lights.
From the Waffle House, you could see the flashing emergency lights.
And from Monteagle Liquor & Wines, you could see the flashing emergency lights.
The police stopped the car and pulled over.
The overnight deskman grabbed the bowl of mints and stepped outside.
The third-shift workers from the Waffle House grabbed a fresh pot of coffee and stepped outside.
The stringy-haired corpulent man grabbed a fifth of Tennessee bourbon from the liquor store and stepped outside.
***
And there, on the shoulder of the merging lane, wrapped in an emergency blanket in the arms of a would-be widow, was a little baby boy.

“Who’s gonna take care of him in a world this lonesome?” the Tweaker moaned.

“MAAAAAAAAA!” the child seemed to shriek, but no one could be quite sure.

And they all shared coffee, and bourbon, and peppermints; it was Christmas.

On the dream tigers

Thu, 20 Dec 2007 17:26:22 GMT

So i had this dream where i came home from work to find my mother and catherine couey passed out in my apartment. Apparently, they had let themselves in and started cleaning, but then they found a stash of narcotics that really weren't mine and decided that part of "cleaning" my apartment involved ingesting all the drugs. My mother woke up and was very upset that i had such potent stuff in my place. I was upset that they broke in. My mother wanted me to appreciate all of their hard work, but I was upset because they had let three tigers into my apartment ... three differently colored tigers. They are circling around us. My mom then tells me that i shouldn't have dangerous drugs AND dangerous tigers in my apartment. Then Justin shows up and tells me that i have to get back to work, and then he starts hitting on my mom. A lot.

Then i wake up and open the trusty dream interpretation book that i've been using since the second grade, and lo-and-behold, what do i find:

"To dream of a tiger advancing towards you, you will be tormented and persecuted by enemies. If it attacks you, failure will bury you in gloom"

Yeah, sounds about right... and what a beautiful phrase, "Failure will bury you in gloooooooooooom"...

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Wed, 19 Dec 2007 14:09:13 GMT

Almost topping the list of best failed pick-up lines ever thrown at me:
Last night, a man with two very young children said,
"Wow. i've never bought hot cocoa from a woman with a badge before....Do you also have pink rabbit-fur handcuffs?"

Now, while this isn't a very original question, it is unusual to hear such a turn-of-phrase in front of a man's two small children.

This incident comes in at number two on my list, topped only by the forestry conference in college where a man in his 60's came up to me and said, "My wife just died, so i'm single again, and i was just wondering if you're single too...."

awkward.

On mysterious beeping noises in our apartment...

Mon, 17 Dec 2007 15:36:18 GMT

I was watching "destination weddings", cleaning the living room, baking cookies, and giving myself a manicure when i hear two panicked ear-drum-piercing beeps that are WAY louder than the oven timer. I go over to the oven and see that it's on "END" meaning the cookies are done. I figured the equipment just momentarily freaked out, so i kinda forget about it. Later (exactly two hours later) when matt's back from work and i'm no longer using the oven, we hear the two shrill beeps again. Matt thinks maybe the smoke detector batteries are low, so, thinking the sound came from the bedroom, he takes apart our bedroom detector. Two hours later, we hear the beeps again.

After disemboweling both smoke detectors, the problem did not correct itself. Every two hours, exactly on-the-dot, we would hear the two demonic electronic beeps.

so every two hours we would wake up startled, realize it was the mysterious beep, and go back to bed. Matt kept saying he would figure it all out once it was light again.

When matt put on yesterday's pants again this morning, he saw that a timer from work had followed him home. It's the kind that clips to his belt and has a beep loud enough to be heard over all the equipment he works with.

Problem solved?

Blood and Love and all

Sun, 16 Dec 2007 15:59:51 GMT

So, sometimes at Church, the children's choir joins our choir, and there is this absolutely precious girl named Audrey who has this perfect blonde bright-eyed cuteness about her. She's probably about 6 or so, and she is always so confused in that adorable endearing way that will probably make her future boyfriend nickname her "Flaky Biscuit" as mine calls me. But anyhow, it takes a little bit of gentle shoving to get her to follow along with the service and whatnot, and i was next to her at Communion, and she was quite all right with being handed a Communion Wafer and being told, "this is the Body of Christ" and whatnot, but when the man came 'round with the cup of sweet sweet Sacramental Wine and said, "This is the Blood of Christ shed for you" she squealed, horrified, "It's blood?!?!" and the man answered, "in your heart it is" which was such a good answer but i still couldn't stop myself from laughing. I thought about it, and, for a child, who is used to being guided through everything and handed food and shelter and love and everything, it must seem very peculiar that a person would hand you a cracker and say, "this is the Body of Christ"---but it must be absolutely terrifying when someone hands you a shiny silver cup of mysterious red liquid and says, "here, drink blood". It's enough to make you second-guess which adults you should trust.
Anyhow:
God, grant me that child-like awe towards the mystery of your love for me. Amen!

And another thing:
we sang hymn 436 today, which, in the episcopal hymnal says, "Redeemer come! I open wide my heart to thee: here, Lord, abide! Let me thy inner presence feel: thy grace and love in me reveal" [Isn't it true that God, like a dentist, says, "open wide" and then talks to you when you're so open that you can't even respond?]

anyhow it reminds me of that Orlando Gibbons piece i've always loved so much:

Jesu, grant me this, I pray,
Ever in Thy heart to stay;
Let me evermore abide
Hidden in Thy wounded side.

If the evil one prepare,
Or the world, a tempting snare,
I am safe when I abide
In Thy heart and wounded side.

If the flesh, more dangerous still,
Tempt my soul to deeds of ill,
Naught I fear when I abide
In Thy heart and wounded side.

Death will come one day to me;
Jesu, cast me not from Thee:
Dying let me still abide
In Thy heart and wounded side."

But how can i be praying both to have God abide in my heart, and also be praying to abide in God's heart? God's within me and i am within God?

Yeah. I think so. I think that's how true love works, no?