Remembering The Known and Unknown

all saints orthodox icon

When I logged onto Facebook a week or so ago, a memory from seven years ago shown at the top of my newsfeed. One having to do with my favorite Old Testament book–The Wisdom of Sirach.

The Wisdom of Sirach is part of the Orthodox Christian Old Testament Bible. It is as true and valid as the other Old Testament books other Christians of other traditions have. So, perhaps knowing that The Wisdom of Sirach is canonical for us Orthodox Christians, you may be able to better understand why we commemorate and remember the Saints of our Church.

It has been done since the early years of Abraham and Moses, etc. The tradition has carried on to this day in our Orthodox Churches.

Incidentally, I’m leading a women’s Bible and Orthodox book study during this Nativity Fast, in which we will begin to read and study this treasured book together.

The verses on remembering the saints before us from The Wisdom of Sirach are here:

44 Let us now praise honored men and our fathers.

2 The Lord established His great glory and majesty from the beginning through them.

3 There were those ruled in their kingdoms and were men renowned for their power, giving counsel through their understanding and proclaiming prophecies.

4 There were leaders of the people by their counsels and understanding of learning for the people. Wise in their words of instruction.

5 There were composers of music, and they set forth verse in writing.

6 Wealthy men with great resources, living in peace in their dwelling-places.

7 All these were honored in their generations and in their days were a source of boasting.

8 There were those who left behind a name that men might declare their praises.

9 There were also those whom no one remembers, who perished as if they never existed; and they died as if they had not been born. And so have their children after them.

10 Nevertheless, these were men of mercy, whose righteousness lives with God.

11 The good they did remains with their seed, and their inheritance with their children’s children.

12 Their seed stands with the covenants, and their children as well for their sake.

13 Their seed shall remain forever, and their glory will not be blotted out.

14 Their bodies were buried in peace, and their name lives to all generations.

15 Peoples will tell of their wisdom, and the assembly will proclaim their praise.

 

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Returning Home

Uhaul truck

Friends, sorry for MIA for the past few weeks. My family is busy in transition.

My husband, Troy, has obtained a new job in the same career field of maintenance and facilities manager/director of a school district, but this job is not in our present town of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, but in Commerce City, Colorado. This city is on the northeastern outskirts of the Denver area.

Troy drove out Thursday late morning and arrived late Friday afternoon in Colorado Springs, where he’s staying with a friend of ours for the time being until some place else opens up to him until he flies back to collect my sons and me on October 5.

He starts his new job on Monday, August 26.

Around August 15, we gave our landlord the required 60-day notice of leaving the rental house.

So, while he’s out West working and house hunting (and sharing the house walk through experience with me via FaceTime and texting), I’m busy packing up the house, with a little help from my oldest son, Nicholas.

I have to tell you, packing gets really old when you’ve done it at least three times before and watched the packers and movers clear out your various homes via many military moves, as well as the nine or so moves through my childhood and teens via my dad’s military moves. There were a few in between Dad’s retirement and meeting my active-duty husband a few years later.

packing boxes

The thought of packing up those flattened boxes in our cellar and garage once again doesn’t really excite me, but it has to be done. So, last weekend, I started packing and get  an average of three boxes done a day.

The good thing about this move is we’re returning to our favorite state. The state where we wanted to retire years ago but didn’t because the plans changed when hubby decided to go to graduate school in Boston.

In any case, God has granted us the blessing of returning to where we consider HOME. A beautiful place filled with our church family and friends. And the Rocky Mountains that we never get sick of seeing every morning, afternoon, and evening, on our walks, doing errands, going to work, and visiting friends.

Mt Elbert Rocky Mtns Colorado.jpg

Therefore, this explains my absence from my blog lately and explains it for the future chunks of time away due to packing and moving in the coming month.

Have you moved around a lot? Do you have a favorite place or state or country you prefer to live in? Are you a military brat like me?

Hope to be back at blogging when I get the time. After all, I’ve got a manuscript to send to my editor once I’m settled into our new home. 🙂

 

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Writing Much, Despite Reading Struggles

Fragonard painting of woman reading

(painted by Jean-Honoré Fragonard)

Over the past couple of years, I’ve read many fellow authors’ declarations of being avid readers when they were children. That they would sneak a book under their covers and get in another few precious moments of reading exciting books before their parents would remind them to go to sleep.

Others would talk about remembering reading at a very early age and loving it throughout their childhood into their adult years. This dedication and love of reading books led them to write books themselves. And this seems to make a whole lot of sense. You read a lot, you get ideas, and you naturally write with these inspirational stories having primed the creative pump in your imaginative brain.

But this wasn’t my experience.

At times I feel both sad and amazed that my writing journey is not the usual, logical path of my fellow writers. I’m an anomaly of sorts. I truly believe it.

I grew up hating to read. As early as I can remember, I had little interest in books, other than to look at the colorful pictures and at times, listen to my dad or a teacher read a story to me and my fellow students.

young girl reading book

Reading had been a struggle for me, a lot of hard work. By mid grade school age, it was discovered I had reading comprehension problems. When my dad wasn’t away on a case (he was a lawyer and a judge in the Air Force), he’d spend an hour or so a night sitting with me on the couch, listening to me read aloud one of the classics in large, vivid books with plenty of pictures, but with age-appropriate, tough words.

I remember agonizing through reading each sentence. It was so laborious–a tremendous mental work akin to the hard, physical work of pushing a heavy rock up a steep hill. But Dad kept encouraging me, guiding me along, patiently working with me for about three years (around fourth to sixth grade).

I went into junior high school still struggling to a certain extent, with little interest in reading, let alone learning. This was my academic path throughout high school, as well.

But something had changed. I did read a few assigned books in my English literature class in eleventh grade, and when I a sophomore, I fell in love with the North & South TV mini-series and ended up reading the first two books in the series. Also, when I was eighteen and nineteen, I read the whole eight-volume series of the Kent Family Chronicles (both series written by John Jakes).

I think, perhaps, watching TV and movies helped me create my stories in lieu of reading. I’ve always been a visual learner.

As for gaining an interest in learning, it wasn’t until I went to business college a couple of years after graduating high school, that I was ready to learn and wanted to learn.

But here’s the unbelievable part of my journey.

Throughout all of my struggles with reading, I wrote all the time with little effort, from second grade all the way through my teens and early twenties before putting it aside when I married and had children.

As you know, if you read any of my older blog posts, I returned to writing in 2014, and it felt so good to be back where I believe I belonged.

How could a child, a young girl, a woman, write stories with plots, decent sentence structures, spelling, some stories over a hundred pages in length, but rarely ever pick up a book until her late teens, early twenties?

It’s a tiny miracle to me.

shining bright light of miracles

This tiny miracle tells me this is my talent, God’s gift to me.

I finally realized this only about two years ago. It hit me like a refreshing, cool breeze on a warm spring day. And I’m so glad it did. Since my early twenties, I’ve been reading and continue to read many, many books.

 

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