Smile!

I stole this picture of six-month old Miranda off of Jodie's facebook page. I made it my computer's desktop picture, and now I smile every time I open the computer.

She's really excited to have a new cousin.

Athanasius On the Incarnation

I just finished reading Athanasius' On the Incarnation for my systematic theology class. A few favorite quotes:

Again, the death of the Lord is the ransom of all, and by it "the middle wall of partition" is broken down and the call of the Gentiles comes about. How could He have called us if He had not been crucified, for it is only on the cross that a man dies with arms outstretched? Here, again, we see the fitness of His death and of those outstretched arms: it was that He might draw his ancient people with the one and the Gentiles with the other, and join both together in Himself.

. . . In short, such and so many are the Savior's achievements that follow from His Incarnation, that to try to number them is like gazing at the open sea and trying to count the waves. One cannot see all the waves with one's eyes, for when one tries to do so those that are following on baffle one's senses. Even so, when one wants to take in all the achievements of Christ in the body, one cannot do so, even by reckoning them up, for the things that transcend one's thought are always more than those one thinks that one has grasped.

What's in a word?

Last semester in hermeneutics class, I learned about how context - shared knowledge - is so important for effective communication in language. A sentence may mean one thing in one context, and another thing in a different context. Or perhaps a sentence may appear meaningless when divorced from the context.

I thought back to that hermeneutics lesson when I came across this sentence today:

The uplift is in perfect harmony with the meander.

The context was my geology study guide.

An Understatement from Moby Dick

"Nor have I been at all sparing of historical whale research, when it has seemed needed."

The Polak family

Milan and Elizabeth with Mark Taylor, Evelina Joy, Daniel Manning, and Anna Elizabeth.

This evening at the artist series. . .

. . . one of the patrons grabbed my arm and said, "You are a very petite little lady. I notice you here every artist series concert."

Thank you? Yes, you're right?


It was a lovely concert of Wheaton graduates called Festival of Voices "to wrap up Season 60 and commemorate Wheaton College's Sesquicentennial." The program included two-time Grammy Award winner Sylvia McNair '78. What a treat!

I have a new niece!

Evelina Joy Polak was born this afternoon (March 20) in Prague. According to Aunt Kate, she has curly hair and chubby cheeks. Maybe the hair is a bit red. She's just shy of 4 kilos, 1/2 a meter long. (8.7 lbs and 20 inches) The family is well. Daniel, I have been told, has been running around singing, "now we are six." I'm eager to see pictures, and wish I could be seeing them face to face.

Dancing at Wheaton

This evening I went to Confessions 2010, a student dance production sponsored by Zoe's Feet Dance Ministry. I loved it. The dancers communicated such beauty, vitality, expression, and emotion. I'm wishing I were lithe and graceful, and a little less inhibited.

Herman Melville had imaginary friends.

This is sad, but humanizing:

[Herman Melville] put together two volumes of poems, which he published with his own funds shortly before his death. Melville also developed the habit of writing prose headnotes to poems, notably some dealing with an imaginary Burgandy Club in which he found consolation for his loneliness. He could relax with the intelligent good fellows of his imagination as he never could among the popular literary men of the 1870s and 1880s who now and then tried to patronize him.

Norton Anthology of American Literature, page 2307

Ironically, now Melville and his imaginary friends have been immortalized, and those "popular literary men" are nameless.

I wonder if J.T.'s "Taddy, Noddy, and Tendertent" hang out with the Burgandy Club ever. They certainly do get around.

Courtesy of Julianna

Summer in British Columbia. This picture always makes me smile.

Live deep

I've read a good deal of Emerson, Whitman, and Thoreau in the past few weeks. Emerson at times delights me and at other times infuriates me, but I can't keep from loving him - - I think. Thoreau is amusing and sometimes thoughtful (and a good deal easier to read), but not quite as endearing. Whitman is almost always a terrible bore. I find him so tiresome.

Here's a bit from Walden:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.

After reading that, don't you also want to "live deep and suck out all the marrow of life?" Don't you want to "drink life to the lees" as Tennyson put it?

Pity Thoreau also thought that some have "hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to 'glorify God and enjoy him forever.'"

This spring break I have set myself the task of creating a resume. It seems beyond me. So now I'm wondering if perhaps I wouldn't rather just go to the woods to live deliberately.

Sesquicentennial Gala

2010 is Wheaton's Sesquicentennial - 150th anniversary of the year that classes began. Dr. Litfin has spent his chapel talks that are scattered throughout the semester telling the stories of Wheaton's last six presidents and God's faithful provision for the college through the work of those servant leaders. It's been a pleasure hearing about the men whose names are so familiar - Jonathan Blanchard, Charles Blanchard, J. Oliver Buswell, and V. Raymond Edman. Next week we'll hear about Hudson T. Armerding (whose funeral I attended last semester) and later J. Richard Chase. (Here's a website about Wheaton's last 150 years which might be kinda cool.)

Wheaton celebrated the sesquicentennial in style on February 15, President's Day, with a gala. This hearkens back to the days of the Washington Banquet held yearly on President's Day. I think they should bring back that tradition, at least for the reason that it's fun to dress up and see everyone looking so pretty.

My escort for the evening was my friend Chet. We moseyed around the Beamer Center, snacking on bits of food offered by bon appetit servers, while I gawked at the displays about the history of the college and wanted to read every last word that had been written, of course.


For years, I can't remember how long (I read everything, but I remember almost nothing), Wheaton has had a tradition wherein the senior class has a bench that the junior class is trying to steal from them. It has to be displayed twice a year in the presence of at least 500 people, and there are various other rules relating to both its hiding and its display. One of the most dramatic stories is when the seniors had a helicopter fly over the football field during the homecoming game with the bench beneath it. Last year the seniors (or perhaps the juniors had it then?) tried to display the bench after class films and then whisk it away in a pickup truck, but the truck's bed wasn't closed completely and the bench slid out and there was a minor brawl. I think someone called the cops. Anyway, the current seniors displayed the bench in the fish-bowl room of the Lower Beamer Center during the gala. Unfortunately for my class, a public safety officer was standing guard outside the door. I think the bench has never been so safe.


The hallways in the main level of the beamer center had costumes and uniforms from years past. One of my favorite was a green corduroy dress from a literary society (why don't we have those anymore either?) and this dress:

There's a little bit in me that wishes ladies still wore dresses like that. This dress would be a good bit too long for me, but I'm not sure my waist is small enough for it. Goodness.

After dinner and dessert in the Beamer Center, we walked to Edman Chapel for a special program. It was a beautiful, cold, slightly snowy night. Not the greatest for high-heeled, strappy sandals, but so lovely I wouldn't have wanted anything different.


The program for the night included performances by the college symphony orchestra. I think my favorite was John Williams' Summon the Heroes (Olympic theme song) played to a slide-show of pictures of Wheaton students from years past to the present. In between, Dr. Wilder, dean of the conservatory, shared some stories from the college's history. The theme was God's faithfulness through the years. I was struck by how refreshing that message is in contrast with what I have heard on similar occasions from The Seeing Eye (which you know I love).

There was also a student-led skit in which a sasquatch showed up. Get it? Sasquatchcentennial. . .

The program closed with Keith and Kristin Getty sharing their music with us, and leading us in singing as well. I left Edman Chapel feeling privileged and humbled. Wheaton College is a good place.

After the program in Edman, there was dancing in Coray Alumni Gym. It was dark and incredibly crowded, which was great because no one could see how mixed up my feet were. Long dresses help too.

This is my roommate from last year (and this coming year), Robin.

And this is one of my beloved, beautiful roommates from this year, Donna Grace.

Donna dealt with my hair, for which I am profoundly grateful. I think she did a good job.

We all danced til we were exhausted, and then a little while longer. Donna and I got back to the apartment some time after midnight, collapsed on the couch, and then decided to soak our poor, sore feet in the tub. Laura joined us soon.

And so ended the lovely evening.

I'd like a puppy, please.

I'm home on spring break now.

Time is odd. Two weeks into the semester I felt like I had been back in Wheaton for ages, but now I feel like the first half of the semester just flew by. Yesterday in American lit class I realized with a piercing clarity that at this time next year I will be nearing the end of my college career, and that I will miss being in the classroom very, very much. It makes me sad just thinking about it. I suppose this is why lots of students start thinking about grad school or consider becoming teachers themselves.

Today I read an autobiography of Jean Little called Stars Come Out Within. She also wrote a memoir for children called Little by Little which I read and re-read when I was younger. (I remember being delighted by the pun.) Jean Little is a Canadian children's author who is blind and has a Seeing Eye dog. Her books often have characters with disabilities, and unlike the disabled kids in most children's books (think Pollyanna, The Secret Garden, Heidi. . .) they don't miraculously get better.

Stars Come Out Within is mostly about Jean Little's life as a writer, her struggles as her eyesight worsened over the years, and her partnership with her Seeing Eye dog Zephyr. I enjoyed how reading it sparked memories I have of Little by Little. That was one of my favorite books when I was little - I loved reading about her early childhood as an MK in Taiwan; how she was teased about being cross-eyed and found comfort in books (she held them so close to her eyes that her nose would get inky); about how she wrote poetry, inspired and encouraged by her father; and about how she taught children with disabilities and decided to write a book for them. But mostly I loved reading about her Seeing Eye dog and the joy and independence he gave her.

A good portion of Stars Come Out Within is about going to Morristown to train with Zephyr. Everything she said about the Seeing Eye and the dogs rings so true with my experience and what I've heard from graduates. It was exciting to read about her instructor and think, "I know who Doug Roberts is!" and be able to picture the dorm rooms, and her first route on Maple Street, and the train station. It's made me miss my involvement with the Seeing Eye - that school is doing such amazing work, and their graduates are their best witnesses.

I'm missing my puppy raising days a bit. Maybe I'll borrow a puppy and join Eyes of Hope in the St. Patrick's Day Parade in Morristown next Saturday. . .

Nobody's Perfetc

This evening I made chocolate chip craisin scones, when I should have been reading Thoreau's Walden instead. But the baking bug doesn't come to me often, so I felt compelled to humor it. The scones probably would've been better if I'd remembered the baking powder.

They actually didn't turn out too bad, probably thanks to the baking soda and buttermilk.
Live and learn.