Mike and I are considering moving to be closer to Villanova, and almost every day at lunch I hop online to look for new listings.  Today I found the neatest tool, Walk Score.com.  It is an interactive map that rates a given address according to the walkable neighborhood ammenities such as parks, grocery stores, libraries, restaurants, etc.  Since we have only 1 vehicle, we rely on public transportation and walking and have really enjoyed being able to walk to a variety of places in our neighborhood, such as Noble Station, Trader Joe’s, Barnes and Noble, Walgreen’s, the Post Office, Baederwood Park, and Abington Library.  Walking is good for one’s heath and better for the environment, and it is nice to see that more and more urban planning is taking this into consideration.

The neighborhood in and around Villanova seems very walkable, but it is also more expensive.  We have also found some (more affordable) renovated row homes, but the neighborhoods that are less appealing.  So the search continues, but I think that I will be using walk score as an evaluative tool from now on.

Constant Comment, How I love you. Your aromatic, orange-peel-and-cinnamon-spice goodness is the flavor of childhood and mother-comfort to me.

Isn’t it true that certain places, smells, and foods, because of their strong sensory associations, transcend themselves and bring forth memory and emotion? My favorite tea is like that. My mother always put several bags of Bigelow Constant Comment in the ubiquitous gallon of sweet tea that we enjoyed in my Tennessee youth.  As a child I believe I learned that sweet tea is as necessary to life as water, and when summer rolls around I especially begin to crave the stuff.  I make it a little less sweet than we used to but still enjoy it with a wedge of lime. I also adore constant comment served hot and sometimes even prefer it to coffee.  I actually keep some in my desk drawer, and was just off  to make myself a mug now.  Ah, comfort.

I found this fun meme on Joel’s blog.

Leave me a comment if you decide to do it also.  The rules are to answer each question in just two words.

1. Where is your cell phone? Somewhere certainly
2. Where is your significant other? Beside me
3. Your hair? Pony tail
4. Your mother? Intuitive, Expressive
5. Your father? Indefatigable, Wise
6. Your favorite thing? Quiet reading
7. Your dream last night? Already gone
8. Your favorite drink? French Press
9. Your dream/goal? Counseling, Motherhood
10. The room you’re in? Bed room
11. Your hobby? Needle work
12. Your fear? Fear not
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Licensed Professional
14. Where were you last night? Prince Caspian
15. What you’re not? Anxious, depressed
16. Muffins? Yes please
17. One of your wish list items? Running shoes
18. Where you grew up? Tennessee, Texas
19. The last thing you did? Morning coffee
20. What are you wearing? Bed clothes
21. Your TV? Basic, small
22. Your pets? Philo Cat
23. Your computer? White iBook
24. Your life? In progress
25. Your mood? Happy, Refreshed
26. Missing someone? Too many
27. Your car? 117,000 miles
28. Something you’re not wearing? Shoes, makeup
29. Favorite store? April Cornell
30. Your summer? Work, friends
31. Like someone? Mike Vendsel
32. Your favorite color? Blue, Green
33. When is the last time you laughed? This morning
34. Last time you cried? Truthfully, yesterday

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.”
— C.S. Lewis

(If anyone could help me track down the source of this particular Lewis quote, I’d be grateful.)

My friend over at Moot Thoughts and Musings recently blogged about her 30th birthday, including the things she was thankful for having experienced and accomplished in her twenties. With my own 30th birthday approaching swiftly, I thought it might be nice to do the same. So I have begun to reflect and perhaps you will see a similar post closer to doomsday my birthday. For now though, I thought this might be a good time to share the beginnings of a lifetime wish list of sorts which I started some time ago. Mindy (ever the list-maker!) told me that she keeps a list of things she wants to do before she dies, and has a scrapbook for marking when she crosses off one of those items. I think this is such a lovely idea, and a nice antidote to lamenting my lost youth.  I must confess that 30 has seemed an intimidating birthday ahead. There are many milestones I thought I would have already accomplished by now. But regret is certainly not a productive activity; it ranks right alongside worry and fear.

I would much rather look forward to the future, but even a future-focus is frought with some difficulties, as the admonishment of James warns, for tomorrow is not a promised commodity. “Teach us to number our days,” says the Psalmist, “that we may present a heart of wisdom.” My favorite morning prayer begins: “O Lord, you have brought me in safety to this new day…” Each day is a gift, and I hope that reflections of these sort would enable me to be more fully present in the here and now, however much of that here and now God is pleased to give.

One additional thing I should like to point out is that this is a “To DO list” and as such is action-oriented. It might be profitable and wise to create a “To BE” list with a more spiritual, ontological flavor to it. (Be more prayerful, more meditative, etc.) For now these are items I want to actually do in years to come. Some of them are similar, some are silly, some are serious. All are me, unashamedly me.  It will no doubt change as I grow and change, but here are some of my heart’s desires, in no particular order …

1. Drink tea in a cottage in England
2. Visit Oxford
3. Gaze at sheep in a green field in Scotland
4. Share a pint with Mike in a pub in Ireland
5. Wander the Louvre
6. Stand on the shores of Prince Edward Island
7. Write a book
8. Finish my Reading List (ha!)
9. Learn (at least some) French, Italian, and German
10. Make a Quilt
11. Learn to Knit
12. Sew my own clothing
13. Get my professional counseling license
14. Give back to the educational institutions that shaped me
15. Mentor a young person (or two, or twenty…)
16. Record my family history
17. Plant a tree
18. Grow a vegetable garden
19. Grow a flower garden
20. Climb more mountains
21. Go sailing on the ocean
22. Become a Mother

……………………………………………………..

So, what would your list say?

Got the last letter in the mail the other day, an acceptance from Marquette. Also, I mailed off the letters announcing my decision to the departments today.  So even though we’ve already mentioned our decision on here, it seems appropriate to post the final score, especially since we wondered for so long what it would be:

Rejections: 4 (Princeton, Chicago, Yale, & Toronto)
Acceptances: 6 (SLU, Calvin, Villanova, CUA, Fordham, & Marquette)
Final Decision: Villanova University

And so, after years of hard work, we can finally settle into…more years of more hard work (hey, wait a second…)

Thanks to all who prayed and encouraged along the way. We are thankful or excited.

The Christians are right: it is Pride which has been the chief cause of misery in every nation and every family since the world began. Other vices may sometimes bring people together: you may find good fellowship and jokes and friendliness among drunken people or unchaste people.  But pride always means enmity– it is enmity. And not only enmity between man and man, but enmity to God.

In God you come up against something which is in every respect immeasurably superior to yourself. Unless you know God as that–and, therefore, know yourself as nothing in comparison–you do not know God at all.  As long as you are proud you cannot know God.  A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.

–from Mere Christianity

April is National Poetry Month. To celebrate, I’m posting two of my own poems composed in the last year. Each of these poems takes notice of a particular sighting in nature, in the first, a particularly striking sunrise in the trees, and in the second, a barely there evening moon.

Burning

early dawn
apartment courtyard
car keys, coffee cup and –
looking up, my gaze is
instantly arrested
I halt my steps in wonder
at the cluster of treetops on the hill
across the street just below the high school

the trees
are
alive
with an
unearthly
glow

red sun filtered through morning clouds
has come to rest on, around, and in
the bank of tall bare branches, still
leafless in the dying winter
now dressed with a shimmering illusion of autumn color:
red, like the image-in-negative of green leaves about to bud –
hot, like Moses’ smoldering bush unconsumed

* * *

like Moses, I stand and stare at this holy sight,
this unexpected vision,
while school buses lumber down the hill
and birds and squirrels forage the cold ground for food
and neighbors sleep –

captivated, I want to
take off my shoes
and sing.

—————————————————————-

The Moon Tonight

The moon is but a slice, a sliver, tonight,
a tiny glowing fragment, and the sky is not yet black
but deep indigo. October moves around us
in chilly shivers, and I reach for your hand,
thankful for

the quietness of your love and
the gentle approach of evening, a time to set aside sorrow
and worry and think about how birds know where
to fly, and how to get home to their treetops,

nesting among the stars and that little bit of moon,
safe, and free from care.

I want to keep on walking with you
under this indigo sky
with the feel of autumn coming on,
and evening thickening into dark,
and know in the deep places that we, too, are safe and
part of this world, part of this peace.

RRV
10/15/07

Today has been a day of near perfect leisure, just what a Saturday ought to be. I woke around eight o’clock to sunshine and a sense that it was a chilly day outside. Mike was still sleeping soundly so I took advantage of the quiet solitude to pray, and then picked up a project that I had put aside last evening. I did the dishes and started a nice breakfast of turkey sausage links, cheese eggs, and drop biscuits. My plan was to wake Mike with the smell of coffee, but Philo woke him first by leaping upon the bed and beginning his “Kitty 500″ routine (leap, scramble, run in circles, repeat).

After breakfast Mike wanted to work on the computer while I continued stitching, so I finished the current netflix movie, The Mill on the Floss based on the novel by George Eliot. (I enjoyed the film, despite a slow beginning. The novel was written in the mid 1800’s and is rather a tragic story of a family’s financial ruin and an ill-fated romance, with very interesting themes and characters. It did make me interested in reading the book.)

Midday we decided to go for a walk, and enjoy the fresh spring air and bright sunshine. The daffodils and forsythia are out everywhere, dotting the landscape with yellow. We stopped in Baederwood Park, swung on the swing sets like children, and admired the cloudless, deep azure blue sky above. We walked a little further over to the big hill across from our apartments and just laid down on the hillside to talk and continue staring at the sky. It was such a peaceful afternoon.

We haven’t shared here the official news that we did finally decide on Mike’s accepting the offer at Villanova. We are both settling into the realization that Philadelphia will continue to be home for us throughout Mike’s doctoral studies. In addtion to the gratitude and relief and excitement that we are feeling, I think we both feel keenly that wonderful sense of possibility. My father recently asked me if we are looking around Philly with new eyes, and I think we are. Perhaps it is the spring weather and everything slowly awakening to new life. In any case, I am truly glad that we can put down some more solid roots here for the next season of life.

We are on our way out to a special dinner to mark and celebrate this decision. Something I love about Mike is his appreciation for ritual and memory. He recalled recently that it was April of 2005 when we journeyed to Philadelphia to look for housing and decide if we would move here to finish our last year at Westminster. We stopped for dinner one night on that trip at an Outback Steakhouse restaurant to talk things over. I remember our sense of excitment and adventure as we looked around, thinking, “what would it be like to live here?”. We have not returned to that restaurant in three years, and Mike thought it might be fitting to go back there tonight and make a memory of what it was for us to stand on the threshold of his Villanova years. And so we shall, putting up a little stone of rememberance to God’s goodness and kindness to us in the year 2008.

The New Testament writers speak as if Christ’s achievement in rising from the dead was the first event of its kind in the whole history of the universe. He is the ‘first fruits’, the ‘pioneer of life’. He has forced open a door that has been locked since the death of the first man. He has met, fought, and beaten the King of Death. Everything is different because He has done so. This is the beginning of the New Creation: a new chapter in cosmic history has opened.

–from Miracles, C. S. Lewis
O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things are made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

–source: Eastertide, Prayers for Lent through Easter from The Divine Hours, Phyllis Tickle