iona

it has rained all day today, and it's been windy. i ran into susan as i was walking home from the library--drenched in all the places my raincoat didn't cover--and she laughed at my bedraggled self. "welcome to fall in belfast," she said. "the trees don't change colors and there's no sunshine here; it's all grey and rain!" and then she drove off, dry in her car. and i went home and made soup and tea.

(i hear the icecream truck, despite the rain. and it's playing a lullaby. lullabye...and goodnight...lalalalalalala...hmmm.)

but anyway, i am very proud to be the newest card-carrying member of the belfast library.

onto matters of more cosmic importance: on saturday, i am going to iona, an experience about which i'm nearly speechless. i've known about the island of iona since 1996, when i was introduced to the music of a band with the same name, and have since dreamed of somehow getting to go. when i met karen turner last year, she introduced me to a whole new world of iona, as she lectured on her experiences there...and i can see how the iona community has left its mark on her soul. as karen and i discussed (many times) my possible three month stint in belfast, we hoped out loud for the opportunity for an iona adventure. and so it is about to come to pass...

in three days, i will board a plane to glasgow.
from glasgow i will take a train to oban.
from oban, i will take a ferry to the island of mull.
i'll take a bus across mull, and another ferry to iona.
whew

and then i will stay a week (with no internet, sorry...it will feel like fasting...) in community. in prayer. in open eyes seeing sea and green and history.
the faithfulness of God.

hey, the rain has momentarily stopped.
and the icecream truck is gone!

now it's silent except for the airplanes...
i think i'll read awhile.

sunshine and spiderman

afternoon and beck. Sunshine and stella artois. I've spent this glorious afternoon outside, walking. Errands to tesco, picking up tonight's dinner and a bottle of wine. Biscuits too. Then, a trip to the library. And home for a bit, where I read of the demise of ernest hemingway's son, gregory in the observer. After a nice wheaten toast and cheese lunch, I decided I would take a walk over to victoria park to feed the birds. Since james is out, I decided I would take his beck cd with. So, track four and I went and I smiled wide at the day. It's so sunny. Warm even. (I'm wearing a sleeveless shirt in the house, instead of grey sweater.)

the park: old men in their requisite tweed hats with black dogs and bright green tennis balls on the grass, next to enormous marigolds and roses. They all smiled. And then I sat on the world's most uncomfortable park bench, trying to break the world's hardest stale bread. Ducks. Geese. Pigeons. Seagulls. And one uninhibited swan with a dirt-slick belly all crowded around me, awaiting the goods. And I delivered. My hands still hurt as I type—feeling bruised and scraped—from breaking such hard bread. I laughed with beck then kris delmhorst as the swan tried to chomp my rock bread. A lovely moment. My ornery swan friend soon left to take his place in the parking lot, lying next to a parked car, as a british midlands flight took off from the nearby airport. The plane flew right overhead and I felt like if I stood up really tall on the bench, I could touch its wheels. It really was a scene. Then home. Kids in the street with their football. For the second time since I've arrived in belfast, I inadvertantly received their pass, and my old Roosevelt soccer instincts kicked in: I caught and passed back, and I was on my way. spiderman was out today too, three feet tall in his ridiculously big mask. His spider eyes sunk to his chin, I'll bet. But he was convincing nevertheless. And I nodded knowingly: he's out to save our lives.

post-church beck

it's been a real weekend. last week this time, i was in bed with a box of kleenex and books i was too tired to read, and this week i am wearing lipstick and my hair is brushed. thank God for healing. thank God for weekends with friends.

yesterday, jenna, trevor and i drove up to castle rock--my favorite spot from the trip in may. the day was sweater-cool, and i sat on the familiar cliff with toes hanging over the edge. we all sat for a long while and talked about horse whispering and diving seagulls. and then we walked on, avoiding nettles and admiring the solitary silver ash amongst the green trees. we saw my horse-friend, star, whom i befriended last time. she remembered me, i think, or at least my shirt, which she nibbled.

i got to meet trev's family, as we all squeezed together in the tiny caravan. they're a great bunch and laugh loud. in such a small space, we even managed to pelt each other with a harry potter bouncy ball in an adult version of the universally-known game, catch. (if you did not catch, you had to sing.)

much tea. much coffee. many, many sweets.

today it was church and sermon about airplanes, books, and black & white dogs.
the coffee was good.
it was the first time i've ever prayed God save the queen.

and now, james is downstairs listening to the new beck record, and i'm considering some warmer clothes. we're heading out to crawfordsburn in a bit for a beach picnic with jenna and trevor. my fingers are cold.

you should have been at the lucy kaplansky show the other night. she is incredible, and her profile very much resembles frances mcdormand with a perm. speaking of actors from fargo, there was a man who looked exactly like the rich father at the show. susan offered a prize for whoever could spot a william h. macy look alike. i couldn't find one. next time.

lucy sang loads of songs, about everything from september 11 in manhattan ( this is the land of the living) to honeymooning on asteroids, but there was one line in a song that moved me and has stayed with me: what i lost returns with love in time. her words have become my prayer.

and now i'm going to find a sweater.