Sunday, January 28, 2007
As I sit here in my little warm office, listening to WETA classical radio on NPR via my computer with streaming audio, I am so thankful for modern conveniences. I have a soft chair and lots of light and I can toggle my computer screen to play a series of photos gleaned from the web of Amish and Mennonite and other covering women, of reenactors in 18thC costume and French or Nouvelle France situations and I am going back in time. … Hand stitching instead of sewing by machine, using 100% linen, recycled from my first chemise makes this a frugal cap, my first used from Friends pattern #500, Traditional Amish Head Covering, has been a comfort--it will not be my last--I plan to make one in a larger size and one in black linen, as well.
I am reminded of the reenactorism, "Idle hands are the Devil's workshop," a phrase uttered often during living history scenarios--a phrase to go with the many hand jobs that women did with no conveniences, and which public viewing the living history have forgotten how to do. This quiet time allows me to think back over the wonderful things of God I have learned and will continue to learn as I develop a meek and quiet spirit.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
And the answer is a resounding yes!
Boise State University, touted as a classic David against Goliath (Oklahoma’s Sooners), wowed the nation and won our hearts with their quiet determination, sportsmanlike conduct and flawlessly completed new twists on old textbook plays to win the Fiesta Bowl on New Year’s Day.
When interviewed after the game, both coach and quarterback named backup quarterbacks for the ingenious twist on the hook-and-lateral play that won the game by one point in overtime–no one hogged the limelight. BSU did not seem to have star players but each player worked as a team, a hallmark of great coaching.
But why this post on Boise State? I grew up in Boise; saw Boise Junior College turn into Boise State College and then become Boise State University. I attended BSU, studying anthropology, history and art; I went on to other things. But after screaming and yelling and jumping up and down with excitement (as I was assured by my daughter that others were doing in the streets of Boise after the game when I called her at 1:00 a.m. my time), I couldn’t be more proud of my school: right then I could not wish for more than the chance for any boy to grow up and be a part of such a team. When the coach and the quarterback and the receiver were thrust into the limelight, their words and praise were for the team and all the players’ efforts, not their own. Truly, even men have learned to become meek and quiet, their victory being called "the game of the century."