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moon, rain, and chandelier

February 27, 2010
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I was drinking some roasted green tea after dinner, about to start a Korean grammar exercise to belay the anxiety that typically seizes me Saturday evenings, and I looked out the window and saw the full moon making its way through the clouds; it must have stopped raining. The chandelier’s reflection seemed comical as a manufactured monstrosity’s attempt to upstage the Second Light. The white vinyl window frame appeared to define the perimeter of triteness men stake out to observe and control nature while never feeling its touch. I would have become depressed, but for the thought that there are 56 more sunny days until Christmas.

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3 Comments
  1. February 28, 2010 4:40 pm

    I love the beautifully framed picture you captured!
    Why are you cast down on Saturday evening? Surely you are anticipating the best day of the week? no?

  2. March 1, 2010 10:01 pm

    OH, I don’t know. I like the chandelier such as it is, and could easily wish for one even as vainglorious as itself in my abode. Mostly I wanted to comment on the video. It is definitely one of, if not THE, best I have ever seen. Your husband is amazing. I love you!

  3. Heidi permalink
    March 4, 2010 5:35 am

    What a hauntingly beautiful picture of the reflected chandelier with a view of the ‘most reticent and queenly’ moon.

    It’s hard to have hopeful thoughts though when the lesser lights are shining far away, in so much darkness. God is good to let the sun — the promise of all lesser lights — come out some days.

    But such beauty is a comfort to me; thank you, Lauren.

    re: anxiety: I think when one is struggling with not having enough of the chemicals that respond to even ‘good’ stress, everything out of the ordinary (even the chance of having to say hello in a hallway) causes mental and physical anxiety — and of course the resources to deal with such anxiety is just what the body is lacking. Our bodies are sometimes too weak it seems, for praise. I am learning (I hope) that the inadequacy of these ‘lesser lights’ is a promise too.

    I pray God’s face will shine on you, dear L. You’re in my love and my prayers — in my hope.

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