Jinx
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Down to the Page, Up to the Heavens
I spent much of this past weekend thinking over the state of my soul. Friday night, we watched a DVD, featuring the talented LeeLee Sobieski in her role as Saint Joan of Arc. And my wife presented me with a gift of books, one of which had been a wish-list item for some time now: The Little Office of Baltimore. I set about praying the offices in the book and am profiting from this spiritual exercise very much. I only wish TLOoB had the office in Latin on facing pages, like the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary does. I am comforted by my stumbling, halting tongue as I…
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What Matters As Advent Approaches
It felt so cold this morning that I could feel it working in my bones, as if little ice crystals were forming in the synovial fluid of my knuckles and knees and ankles. The world outside was a frosted sheet of patched russet, an expanse of the leaves weighed down by the same sort of tiny ice crystals. While Jinx and I were walking (Bluebelle sticking close to my wife in the warm house), I saw a large red oak leaf detach from the tree over near the cemetery and glide like a paper airplane down, then over, then back this way, then down a little more, then that way,…
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A Week In
Today the world is a leaf-world. The wind has had its way with things, and the trees are being stripped by the hour, and the shower of color would be, even if unaccompanied by its whispery chorus, an oratorio of the glory of Him Who spoke it all into existence. The little tree under which I park at work is almost completely bare. There is one branch that hangs over the driver’s side door, and the most prominent leaf is the one I touch each morning and each evening when exiting and entering my vehicle. Yesterday I stood in the blue light and contemplated the leaf, and I decided that…
- Bluebelle, Daily Life, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Jinx, New Dog, Photographs, Prayers, Reflections, Saints
Special Providence
Shakespeare’s Hamlet tells us that there is special providence in the fall of a sparrow, mirroring our Lord’s words about God’s care for His children. Since this past Saturday, every passing hour shows me that there is also special providence in finding photographs of abandoned dogs in a county animal shelter. Mrs. Orr took Bluebelle to the vet today to get a full checkup, shots, deworming, and whatever else she needed. While she was there, the doc told my wife that he had an opening and would actually be able to spay our little dog today. She jumped at the chance, since the next opening wouldn’t be for almost a…
- Bluebelle, Daily Life, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Jinx, Photographs, Prayers, Reflections
A Riot of Heelers
We spent most of yesterday sawing back and forth, emotions and logic battling it out, leaving us weary and unsure. Should we go look at the dog I believe to be Jinx’s sister? Should we leave well enough alone? Should we introduce chaos into a two-dog house that have finally reached a certain balance? What if she doesn’t fit in? What if our dogs’ personalities change and they become tense and unhappy? I watched the clock swing towards 100 pm, the hour the animal shelter opens on Saturdays. The dogs were asleep; Mrs. Orr and I were silent, brooding our own thoughts to ourselves. I walked up to Bonnie’s grave…
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Gratitudinal
We’ve all experienced those days when we’re keenly aware of the blessings bestowed upon us. The old admonition, “Count Your Blessings” is a very wise one, because when we start numbering the ways in which God had shown His favor to us, we find ourselves freefalling into example after example after example, and we realize how churlish and petulant and ungrateful we can be, and these are good days, because we are brought up short and we turn to Him and the unfeigned gratitude pours out of us like tears or belly-laughs or dream-sighs. I sat in the backseat today at noon as is my custom, and I opened the…
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Let’s Go, Jinxie!
All of my coworkers are women, and without exception, they are observably addicted to Facebook, Twitter, and other social media. They post and like and Tweet and share and upvote and forward until they lose track of who they are, where they are, and of what they’re taking notice. Just watching them makes my arthritic thumbs ache. And yet. Out of the entire gossipy solipsistic backstabbing shallow juvenile selfie-taking gaggle of them, not one — not ONE, mind you — knew what “Let’s Go, Brandon!” means, nor anything about the phrase’s origin, nor why it’s considered funny. Not one. I have a firm grasp of the concept of duty, and…
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As The Winds Cool The Earth
That’s another picture of Jinx’s likely sister, taken from the shelter’s Facebook page, which I was able to access even without having an account there. The resemblance is remarkable. Same slightly worried facial expression. Due to their very limited hours, the first day we’ll be able to visit the shelter to see her will be Saturday at one pm. We’ll see how it goes. I asked Dixee how she’d like to have a little big sister. She said, “Knee grow, please,” and walked away to watch Mrs. Orr cook supper. Supper was homemade chili and cheddar & garlic biscuits. Perfect fare for a chilly night like this. *** I saw…
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Poorer Relations
We recently drove past the new county animal shelter without realizing what the building was. When we saw the sign, Mrs. Orr and I both exclaimed, “So that’s where it is!” We had heard that a new, badly-needed shelter had been opened and that many cats and dogs were up for adoption. For some mysterious reason, I decided today to look at the shelter’s website. I scrolled through the photos and read some of the descriptions. Then I was brought up short by one dog for whom the shelter is seeking what they call “a forever home.” The dog was described as a female blue heeler mix, about 2-4 years…
- Daily Life, Holy Days, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Jinx, Photographs, Reflections, Saints
Something In The Air
We awoke to one of those days that couldn’t be more perfect for the Orr temperament if we’d sat down with a Weather & Scenery Catalogue and ticked off all the boxes for the Saturday we were ordering. A muted, witchy glow of cloud-shrouded afterthought of a sun, leaves layered like the scales of Jonah’s fish across the slippery skin of the mountain earth, the rain as fine as the mist at the produce section in the grocery store, the stillness and sacredness that churches and even libraries once had but will never have again. When I swung my legs over the bed and touched the floor, the Spotted Southern…