i had another old friend who visited over the weekend. felisa dyrud is a part of the hervey clan, who are family friends from back in our virginia theological seminary days when i was just a few years old. the herveys were missionaries in chile' for nine years and then kazakhstan for four years. i think they've lived in many other places too, but i can't remember now. felisa is the second oldest child, and we were childhood chums because we were the same age.
fast-forward: felisa met her husband, peter dyrud, at the air force academy and they've been happily married for nearly two years. peter is now at the kennedy school of government (taught by, among others, samantha power), and they live not far from my cousins in cambridge. anyway, felisa is doing some training in biloxi, ms, for six weeks and came down to run the mcguires 5k with me this weekend. i'm proud to say that i kept pace with her, because
felisa won the military women's heavy (35 lbs. on her back) category at he
bataan death march last year! she brought some friends down as well, and we had chilled-out beachtimes all weekend.
i heard dad preach yesterday. first time in awhile. he gave a stirring sermon on
walking in the way of the cross, which you can ready briefly about
here.
i was recently given a thoughtful and wonderful gift-book called
the winged energy of delight. it's a collection of poems translated by robert bly. persian poets, european poets, south american poets, most of whom i don't know. but they're all so good. one newly discovered poet that i've enjoyed getting to know is rainer maria rilke. rilke was a 19th century bohemian poet who wrote beautifully about nature and seemed to be a people-watcher. there's also an acute spirituality to his poems. he penned a series called
the life of the virgin mary, which consists of thirteen poems, each one dedicated to a particular time in mary's life. i'll leave you with
before the passion, which is particularly appropriate for Holy Week:
O did you want this, you should not have
come from the womb of a woman:
Saviors one has to mine in the mountains,
where one breaks the rough from the rough.
Do you not feel sorry for laying waste
to your beloved valley? Behold my weakness;
I have nothing but brooks of milk and tears,
And you were always in superior numbers.
With such expense you had been announced to me.
Why did you not step out of me, wildly, immediately?
If you need only tigers to tear you apart,
why was I raised in the women's house,
to weave a soft, pure robe for you,
in which not even the seam discomforts you -
such was my whole life,
and now you suddenly reverse its nature.
