Monday, February 28, 2011

'I Do Not Know' Includes Hope For Happiness

Right now I have no idea when I will see either of my two best friends again. But it came to my mind while I was taking a test in Ancient Greek class a few minutes ago that not knowing includes hope for happiness. Suppose I did know that I would not see either of them until Christmas 2011. Then I would know exactly how many days lay between now and happiness. And I would begin the slowly treading countdown and be one of the most miserable students at TMC. But since I do not know, I am forced to take each minute one at a time and simply hope.
This is rather the same thing with Heaven. We haven't the slightest idea when we shall see our God. We have no idea when we shall pass through death which will free us into needing hope no longer.
Suppose we knew when our deaths would be- then our hope would not have the same eternal quality about it. It would be limited by time, i.e.: "I hope that by the day I die, 54 1/2 days from now, I shall be purged of all sin." But instead our hope is not confined within the set number of days we have yet to live. Our hope is light that shines upwards beyond the confines of time and gravity into the depths of eternity.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Photos of Thomas More College, NH

About a week ago I stepped outside and saw this-a land freshly sparkling in new snow. So I took pictures of the loveliness. Here are those pictures along with a poem I wrote about snow for 'Ardhoniel' a few weeks ago and some pictures of the inside of the chapel.

Snow lay softly and gleamed
in the light of the awakening sun~
light, like silken threads it seemed
as it shimmered though the trees
and past their dark silhouettes.
All was still; not a breeze
altered the hush: snow lay softly.

Snow clung to the pines. And the red oaks still haven't given up all their leaves.

These are some of the longest icicles, hanging from the roof of the girls' dorm. They are over 6 feet long.

Lanterns light the path from the girls' dorm.

Coming to the end of the path, this is the delivery truck inching over the ice rink known as the parking lot. And a senior walks by, adding some 'human interest' to these photos.

He's going over to the library where all our classes are held. With a school no more than 85 students, only three classrooms are needed, and they fit comfortably into one building. This building also holds an extensive library which wraps around the walls of the classrooms and sits in semi-organized stacks in the basement. These is also a computer room which brags of 6 computers and an art studio. One of the classrooms has a wooden floor, for which reason it is called the ballroom. By clearing out or rearranging the tables and chairs, it becomes a dance floor for formal dances, ballet lessons, an open area for fencing, and a makeshift theater for plays.

Overhead, the sun shines weakly through the clouds.

When you first step into the chapel (which used to be a barn, back when this land was a farm), this is what you see.

The tabernacle.

The crucifix on the alter

One of the station of the cross.

An illustrated book with the mass readings.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Ode to Silence

What is that I hear~ running through the rushes?
...over the water and along the wind~
......what is that I hear? Hush now,
Lest you disturb the creature with your gushes
...of long and noisy speech. How will we find
......this unearthly thing? Hush n ow
And hear how the coldness of its step clutches the brains of those who are not refined hearing it pass. Hush now:
You begin to feel how it softly touches
...the listener; when it leaves, you have pined breathe it once more. Hush now,
And listen~ How its magic sings and hushes!