The vibrant chatter crowds the table and I gaze at each face as Back and forth ideas bounce, collide, spark; My mind wanders, pondering this family of mine, Eyes alight, and mouths open wide to laugh, to speak, While outside the window, evening tiptoes in, Dinner conversation is at its peak, And I marvel at its beauty.
(I had a bunch of fun with this one! I tried out a contrapuntal poem–the idea is that there are actually three poems in one here. You can read the whole thing through and it works, but then read lines 1, 3, 5, & 7, and then go back and read lines 2, 4, 6, & 8. And then let me know if you can see how the two mini poems are in parallel.)
The road between our home and family
Runs over Mississippi River ways.
We push the current flowing tip to toe,
Our fight to keep connections clear and free.
As water runs, the trek would last for days;
By car the road is sixteen hours or so.
We’ve driven this some ten or twenty times,
A circuit as complete as blood pathways.
As generations come and go, I know
The route of life will change, but God designs This flow.
(For today’s poem I tried out a curtal sonnet, created by the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins. Now if only I could write as beautifully as him! I’m also having issues with layout posting–I’m still figuring out ways and means for these posts.)
Because life isn’t busy enough (cough! cough!), I decided to jump in with some friends and take on the November Poem a Day challenge. I tried it once in 2015 when we lived in Guadalajara, and there are some fun memories from those poems. You can check those out here.
Poetry is not my forte, but I do enjoy playing with words, and with poetry forms. I’ve also found that I write more when I have a specific external goal, so here we are! This will be my landing page, and each day I’ll add a link to the day’s poem. Each day I’m using a prompt from The Poetry Pub.
Twelve years ago I discovered The Rabbit Room, an online community created by singer-songwriter (and now author) Andrew Peterson and friends. I felt like I had opened a portal into a world full of light and beauty, and God used it in major ways to bring comfort and strength and meaning after the death of Kraig and my oldest daughter, Keren. The Rabbit Room blog posts and comments sections were a place of rich conversations, ranging from art to theology, humor and nerdiness to serious discussion. It was a community I didn’t know I needed. After all, it’s not like I was starving for friends or community. I was surrounded by a strong, loving family and friends who comforted us in our grief and gave us hope. I had friends I could trust and talk to about all sorts of things. Yet even with that, The Rabbit Room provided a touch of magic that made the world more vibrant.
Generations: Clare, me, & Carrie, 2022
Two years after that, my sister Carrie and I held our breath and took a plunge into the in-person Rabbit Room conference, Hutchmoot. Suddenly we were able to put flesh and bone on the names we had grown to appreciate, and we found more beauty and love. There was sorrow, too, and as time went on, we came alongside each other and grieved, and comforted. Time passed, and those I had seen as sitting on unattainable pedestals of glory became more human, not because they fell, but because I saw them more clearly. Their flesh and bone was like my own, a work in progress with strange kinks and creases, places God was massaging and molding. It was a beautiful thing to see. Friendships deepened and grew, not just because we had shared interests, but because we became more like family with a shared core and experiences.
My kids have grown up on my stories of Hutchmoot, and have known the artists and their various work for years now. Most of their formative years, really. Naturally they’ve wanted to attend Hutchmoot as well, so when our daughter Clare hit eighth grade we said we’d try to have her come the following year. That year was put off due to the costs of a kitchen remodel, but in March of 2020 we were gifted with two golden tickets. Ah March of 2020! That month that changed all of our lives…
Hutchmoot went virtual for Fall of 2020 and then 2021, and in true Rabbit Room form, the staff created an incredible online experience. But Clare and I still had our tickets, and last weekend we hopped in the car and pointed our noses north to Hutchmoot in-the-flesh.
Bandersnatch Books connections at Hutchmoot
I could go on and on about what an incredible reunion it was—the blend of reconnecting with old friends, meeting friends I’ve known a few years only online, and making brand new friends. I could elaborate on the refreshing sessions I attended, and the thoughts I came up against and had to ponder and evaluate. I could talk about how the core of The Rabbit Room is still solid, and how that gives me continued hope for this beautiful creation.
But it was Clare’s thoughts as we wrapped up the weekend that have stuck with me.
“It was good,” she said, “but it wasn’t as incredible as I thought it was going to be.”
Clare chats with the daughters of friends of mine
Her words weren’t shocking. The poor kid ended up with a head cold just before we went that left her with a stuffed head and the ignominy of having to constantly blow her nose—never a great thing, but worse in this post-Covid world. I was immediately drawn into conversations, but she didn’t have folks she knew personally, and while I could include her a bit, she didn’t get a chance to really forge forward on her own till the second day of the conference. But as we talked about her feeling, we started to see that there was more to it than that.
Clare said, “I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t really new. I have a lot of friends back home who are into the same books and music I am, and they like a lot of Rabbit Room stuff.”
Clare consults Joe Sutphin at a gathering of the artists
I realized that when I first found The Rabbit Room I was living in something of a desert. I didn’t have a community that inhabited the deep areas of beauty and art and suffering, all the while exploring how God works through these. I didn’t have books and music that fed that part of my soul. Clare, on the other hand, has been exposed to these resources for twelve years now. The Rabbit Room community has grown exponentially in that time, too, so its resources are more readily available. In the more nerdy communities of the world—and we happen to hang out in one of those—more people are likely to know about The Rabbit Room. Clare gets to experience something like Hutchmoot every time she goes to her youth group.
We chatted about this for a bit, and Clare’s eyes lit up as she realized she hadn’t missed something just because she hadn’t experienced the same thing I had with my first Hutchmoot. She has something already that goes deep.
I can’t wait to see how God illuminates Clare, and what her own experiences will be. She is not me, but that doesn’t mean there’s no magic for her. God’s bigger than that, will reveal it to her in the way that will give her life.
(My trilogy, Daughter of Arden, is loosely based on this tale by the Brothers Grimm. I’ve loved this story since I was little. The original .pdf of this version can be seen here.)
There was once a King who had a son who asked in marriage the daughter of a mighty King; she was called Maid Maleen, and was very beautiful. As her father wished to give her to another, the prince was rejected; but as they both loved each other with all their hearts, they would not give each other up, and Maid Maleen said to her father, “I can and will take no other for my husband.” Then the King flew into a passion, and ordered a dark tower to be built, into which no ray of sunlight or moonlight should enter. When it was finished, he said, “Therein shalt thou be imprisoned for seven years, and then I will come and see if thy perverse spirit is broken.” Meat and drink for the seven years were carried into the tower, and then she and her waiting-woman were led into it and walled up, and thus cut off from the sky and from the earth. There they sat in the darkness, and knew not when day or night began. The King’s son often went round and round the tower, and called their names, but no sound from without pierced through the thick walls. What else could they do but lament and complain?
Meanwhile the time passed, and by the diminution of the food and drink they knew that the seven years were coming to an end. They thought the moment of their deliverance was come; but no stroke of the hammer was heard, no stone fell out of the wall, and it seemed to Maid Maleen that her father had forgotten her. As they only had food for a short time longer, and saw a miserable death awaiting them, Maid Maleen said, “We must try our last chance, and see if we can break through the wall.” She took the bread-knife, and picked and bored at the mortar of a stone, and when she was tired, the waiting-maid took her turn. With great labour they succeeded in getting out one stone, and then a second, and a third, and when three days were over the first ray of light fell on their darkness, and at last the opening was so large that they could look out. The sky was blue, and a fresh breeze played on their faces; but how melancholy everything looked all around! Her father’s castle lay in ruins, the town and the villages were, so far as could be seen, destroyed by fire, the fields far and wide laid to waste, and no human being was visible. When the opening in the wall was large enough for them to slip through, the waiting-maid sprang down first, and then Maid Maleen followed. But where were they to go? The enemy had ravaged the whole kingdom, driven away the King, and slain all the inhabitants. They wandered forth to seek another country, but nowhere did they find a shelter, or a human being to give them a mouthful of bread, and their need was so great that they were forced to appease their hunger with nettles. When, after long journeying, they came into another country, they tried to get work everywhere; but wherever they knocked they were turned away, and no one would have pity on them. At last they arrived in a large city and went to the royal palace. There also they were ordered to go away, but at last the cook said that they might stay in the kitchen and be scullions.
The son of the King in whose kingdom they were, was, however, the very man who had been betrothed to Maid Maleen. His father had chosen another bride for him, whose face was as ugly as her heart was wicked. The wedding was fixed, and the maiden had already arrived; but because of her great ugliness, however, she shut herself in her room, and allowed no one to see her, and Maid Maleen had to take her her meals from the kitchen. When the day came for the bride and the bridegroom to go to church, she was ashamed of her ugliness, and afraid that if she showed herself in the streets, she would be mocked and laughed at by the people. Then said she to Maid Maleen, “A great piece of luck has befallen thee. I have sprained my foot, and cannot well walk through the streets; thou shalt put on my wedding-clothes and take my place; a greater honour than that thou canst not have!” Maid Maleen, however, refused it, and said, “I wish for no honour which is not suitable for me.” It was in vain, too, that the bride offered her gold. At last she said angrily, “If thou dost not obey me, it shall cost thee thy life. I have but to speak the word, and thy head will lie at thy feet.” Then she was forced to obey, and put on the bride’s magnificent clothes and all her jewels. When she entered the royal hall, every one was amazed at her great beauty, and the King said to his son, “This is the bride whom I have chosen for thee, and whom thou must lead to church.” The bridegroom was astonished, and thought, “She is like my Maid Maleen, and I should believe that it was she herself, but she has long been shut up in the tower, or dead.” He took her by the hand and led her to church. On the way was a nettle-plant, and she said,
“Oh, nettle-plant, Little nettle-plant, What dost thou here alone? I have known the time When I ate thee unboiled, When I ate thee unroasted.”
“What art thou saying?” asked the King’s son. “Nothing,” she replied, “I was only thinking of Maid Maleen.” He was surprised that she knew about her, but kept silence.
When they came to the foot-plank into the churchyard, she said, “Foot-bridge, do not break, I am not the true bride.” “What art thou saying there?” asked the King’s son. “Nothing,” she replied, “I was only thinking of Maid Maleen.” – “Dost thou know Maid Maleen?” – “No,” she answered, “how should I know her; I have only heard of her.”
When they came to the church-door, she said once more,
“Church-door, break not, I am not the true bride.” “What art thou saying there?” asked he. “Ah,” she answered, “I was only thinking of Maid Maleen.” Then he took out a precious chain, put it round her neck, and fastened the clasp. Thereupon they entered the church, and the priest joined their hands together before the altar, and married them. He led her home, but she did not speak a single word the whole way. When they got back to the royal palace, she hurried into the bride’s chamber, put off the magnificent clothes and the jewels, dressed herself in her gray gown, and kept nothing but the jewel on her neck, which she had received from the bridegroom. When the night came, and the bride was to be led into the prince’s apartment, she let her veil fall over her face, that he might not observe the deception. As soon as every one had gone away, he said to her, “What didst thou say to the nettle-plant which was growing by the wayside?”
“To which nettle-plant?” asked she; “I don’t talk to nettle-plants.” – “If thou didst not do it, then thou art not the true bride,” said he. So she bethought herself, and said,
“I must go out unto my maid, Who keeps my thoughts for me.” She went out and sought Maid Maleen. “Girl, what hast thou been saying to the nettle?” –
“I said nothing but,
“Oh, nettle-plant, Little nettle-plant, What dost thou here alone? I have known the time When I ate thee unboiled, When I ate thee unroasted.”
The bride ran back into the chamber, and said, “I know now what I said to the nettle,” and she repeated the words which she had just heard. “But what didst thou say to the foot-bridge when we went over it?” asked the King’s son. “To the foot-bridge?” she answered. “I don’t talk to foot-bridges.” – “Then thou art not the true bride.” She again said,
“I must go out unto my maid, Who keeps my thoughts for me,” And ran out and found Maid Maleen, “Girl, what didst thou say to the foot-bridge?” “I said nothing but,
“Foot-bridge, do not break, I am not the true bride.” “That costs thee thy life!” cried the bride, but she hurried into the room, and said, “I know now what I said to the foot-bridge,” and she repeated the words. “But what didst thou say to the church-door?” – “To the church-door?” she replied; “I don’t talk to church-doors.” – “Then thou art not the true bride.” She went out and found Maid Maleen, and said, “Girl, what didst thou say to the church-door?”
“I said nothing but,
“Church-door, break not, I am not the true bride.” “That will break thy neck for thee!” cried the bride, and flew into a terrible passion, but she hastened back into the room, and said, “I know now what I said to the church-door,” and she repeated the words. “But where hast thou the jewel which I gave thee at the church-door?” – “What jewel?” she answered; “thou didst not give me any jewel.” – “I myself put it round thy neck, and I myself fastened it; if thou dost not know that, thou art not the true bride.”
He drew the veil from her face, and when he saw her immeasurable ugliness, he sprang back terrified, and said, “How comest thou here? Who art thou?” – “I am thy betrothed bride, but because I feared lest the people should mock me when they saw me out of doors, I commanded the scullery-maid to dress herself in my clothes, and to go to church instead of me.” – “Where is the girl?” said he; “I want to see her, go and bring her here.” She went out and told the servants that the scullery-maid was an impostor, and that they must take her out into the court-yard and strike off her head. The servants laid hold of Maid Maleen and wanted to drag her out, but she screamed so loudly for help, that the King’s son heard her voice, hurried out of his chamber and ordered them to set the maiden free instantly. Lights were brought, and then he saw on her neck the gold chain which he had given her at the church-door. “Thou art the true bride, said he, “who went with me to the church; come with me now to my room.” When they were both alone, he said, “On the way to church thou didst name Maid Maleen, who was my betrothed bride; if I could believe it possible, I should think she was standing before me thou art like her in every respect.” She answered, “I am Maid Maleen, who for thy sake was imprisoned seven years in the darkness, who suffered hunger and thirst, and has lived so long in want and poverty. To-day, however, the sun is shining on me once more. I was married to thee in the church, and I am thy lawful wife.” Then they kissed each other, and were happy all the days of their lives. The false bride was rewarded for what she had done by having her head cut off.
The tower in which Maid Maleen had been imprisoned remained standing for a long time, and when the children passed by it they sang,
“Kling, klang, gloria. Who sits within this tower? A King’s daughter, she sits within, A sight of her I cannot win, The wall it will not break, The stone cannot be pierced. Little Hans, with your coat so gay, Follow me, follow me, fast as you may.”
This website has been in process for a couple years now. I decided at some point that I wanted to create a site using my own domain, and I had some vague ideas of some pages I wanted to include. My old Blogspot site had become trickier to navigate, and I couldn’t even figure out how to update my photo or rearrange things on the page any longer. So I took the plunge and bought a domain name, and put in WordPress because a number of friends have nice sites through WordPress. I got some good advice as to where to go for help setting up a site and so I headed that way…only to find myself stumbling again, and again, and again…and getting nowhere. To say the least, computer language is not my language.
At last, “wounded and sore bested,” I turned to a friend who has a degree in computer science, and with her help we have managed to push and pull this site into something along the line of what I first envisaged. I’m sure there is more work that needs to be done, and I’ll have to watch it for shake-ups as new updates happen, but for now, I have no excuse. It is time to send this creation out in to the world!
And not a moment too soon! One reason why I wanted to start this site is because I’ve been writing more, and I want to be able to share what I’m writing. Not only do I have some stories I’ve posted on a friend’s site, but I had two short stories published this year in The Lost Tales of Sir Galahad, by Rabbit Room Press. And in addition to that, my trilogy, Daughter of Arden is about to launch into the world, starting with Exile coming out next month from Bandersnatch Books. So yes, it’s high time I had a place to talk about this!
I’d love for you to come along on this new adventure with me. You can subscribe to my site on the homepage, or blog post page (or, I think, the story page–lots of possibilities).
