12/30 Waiting for Walt [my dear old landlord] at the Glen Oak for lunch. Saw Mom & Dad off this a.m. They're driving Phillips' car to Florida & making many stops on their way back. Returned to Oak Brook last night to make dinner & help Mom after getting frustrated with my painting. Yesterday was one of those days in which everything goes wrong as if things like open cupboard doors and globs of bright blue paint and a hairsetter had a personality AND a vendetta towards me. Seems I ran into every wall, tried every store that was closed for inventory, dropped everything that was at least ten-parts in nature, and when I thoughtlessly spread the front of my purple wool sweater with blue oil paint I decided to forget the day for painting. Mom gave me a hug & suggested some days were just like that. And I think maybe since it was just before my period which is trying to cramp in today--everything was "off". (Here comes good ole Walt. Will try to write later.)

Dec. 20 5th Ave Pres Church.

Came early to bring Pam's choral book which she forgot & JH's keys which he forgot. He invited me to come up to the Adult Bible Study but I've come, instead, to sit in our pew. The choir is practicing. How I'd love to sing with these. The anthem they're doing today is the tricky "Christ Was Born to Save" that I did last year before Christmas with Christ Church.

On my way to church I saw the 5th Ave bag lady sitting on her manhole. I took the chance, being alone, to give her the warm $2.00 gloves I bought last year. She looked up at me with cold, red, water, thankful eyes as I thrust the gloves at her with a "Merry Christmas". She was dragging on a cigarette butt. Walking away I had the feeling that I should ask to see her in heaven someday. The bums of New York's streets work so at my heart. Makes me wish for money. Or at least to be unconnected to Sandens for a Sunday to offer her a chance to hear this magnificent choir here at church. To show someone cares and loves her as Christ does. Perhaps I am extremely naive--But, Lord, take the fears of safety away and allow us to help those really in need.

I love this church. It's physical appearance alone stimulates worship. But dear Dr. Kirkland, and the excellent music, and the wonderful congregational singing so adds to my love for God. Today the pulpit is flanked high with red & white poinsettias.

A lovely old deaf lady in red dress and mink coat asked to sit in the front with me. I welcomed her with "open arms" since it will be better company than the usual--not very charitable of me--but I think Sanden will appreciate it, too.

Can't believe that I am really going home tomorrow.

Joe has never called. The children's choir is practicing & terribly flat. Well, it is filtered & refined as it climbs to reach God's ears--so Jesus--give me your ears.Am hoping--never mind--that wasn't charitable, either.

2:45 At Rumpelmeyer's for tea after delivering Leanne's book to the Berkley [where Joe lived]. What I'm reading in deCaussade is what Kirkland talked about today! What a wonderful sermon he gives. Continually. Not sure why JH said afterwards that he didn't understand what Kirkland was talking about--but he explained why Christ was in metaphor the light of the world and explained that it was creative energy...Well, I must get the tape of it for Mom & Dad to hear and I must write to Dr. Kirkland.

DeCaussade: With our bodily eyes we can see the natural sun and its beams, but the eyes of our soul, by which we want to see God and his works, remain shut. There is darkness instead of light; knowledge is ignorance and we see without understanding. Holy Scripture is the mysterious utterance of a more mysterious God, and the events of history are the incomprehensible words of this same hidden and unknown God.

1 Kings 3:7, 9 "I am but a little child. I know not how to go out or come in . . . Give therefore thy servant a hearing heart."

A very cold day. Morning sun on the tops of New York City's buildings. At Rumpelmeyer's again for an expensive breakfast. Only JHS was up when I left.

I didn't sleep well. First the pillow was too unnegotiable. Then I felt I could hear all the way down to the bowels of New York City--and I realized that beneath me were subways racing blindly through the night. And then Pamela awoke with fits of coughing. I do believe she has more of a problem than just an allergy. I could feel her deep congestion as she coughed. She finally went in to Elizabeth for help I will ask Mom about croup. I'm a little surprised at their attitude toward it--E will take her to a chiropractor when she has time. They discuss her congestion as a congenital allergy.

I submitted--eventually--to being awake and prayed for Pammy's healing. And then for the whole city which seems so lost--such a Sodom & Gomorrah. Read an article yesterday in Newsweek waiting for our hour-late bus which explains with what Joe was plagued in his intestines for three years. And all of a sudden all of the city makes me ill in its extreme self-glorification, and self-centeredness, and self-indulgence. A life of generosity & discipline & truth are unheard of, it would seem, and yet that is the only way in which to find true joy.

Today JH & I set up photography for the Home Study Brochure. He didn't seem too thrilled about the pre-registrants that I told them of last night. I think--going into this reluctantly--he will tire of it very soon. It won't last much more than a year.

Lila [JH Sanden's sister-in-law] made a wonderful supper last night through which we bull-dozed in order to make our bus (which was late!) Chili & french bread & tossed salad & birthday cake. I so dearly love those two. I took them a bottle of Cold Duck for "Christmas dinner, or New Year's Eve, or housewarming." They should be moving in before I return [They were building a house in Washington, CT, where I was working. Capt OE Sanden had left the military to work with his brother's art business].

Laura Sanden [their daughter] showed last night in NYC. Came a different route with her companion. Will stay to pick up Paul [her younger brother] this evening.

This should be a lovely weekend. Now to go find black shoe polish & hairspray...

In the kitchen making coffee for Mark Schaller & me. Feeding the birds (scaring off the pesty, gray squirrels). Cleaning up the Schaller house & organizing to go home for the holidays. It's snowing again. It's been snowing for three days now. Everything is quite beautiful but the roads are a bit slick. Guess I'd rather have the snow and 32 degree temps than the bitter cold & blue sky.

Barrie had the boys and me for dinner last night. Sharon Wirt and Jean were there. Her keeping room so charming with the snow falling outside in the night. We stayed much later than any of us wanted to. But the boys didn't know how to say goodbye & I wasn't dropping loud enough hints.

Am taking Pamela on the bus to NYC tonight--earlier than the scheduled trip on Saturday a.m. since JH wants to spend all of Saturday photographing for the Home Study Brochure. I'm sorry I'm overweight these days. I'm just going to have to break some habits and start others.

Happy to be taking the Younglove painting home & looking forward to doing the McCarthy painting.

Many vivid dreams of late--and sleeping till I wake each day. Don't know if it's slothful or healthful.

Sandi called two nights ago--a thing I'd wanted to do towards her. We talked briefly trying to work out time together over the holidays which I shall cherish. And if I stay later than Jan 1 I could meet Christopher.

Acts 13:34 For God has promised to bring him back to life again, no more to die.

As I think of this wonderful thought & realize as sons of God we shall also inherit this eternal promise, my mind flicks to the picture of the fuzzy brown & black caterpillar that Deb & I saw on Saturday at the arboretum. How our entire life is like this. Or like the seed locked inside tht efuirt. Or like the unborn child. And only until our death can we know in very small part. How the caterpillar thinks of all of life as the sandy, gray ground on which he vulnerably crawls. So little of the vivid fall colors of sky & trees does he realize as he crawls on his belly of legs. And not until after he submits to the death of the cocoon does he see the glories above. What a picture for us of our lives and deaths and lives in Christ.
Reading (re-reading?) Winged Life which says much about small daily deaths to which we should submit in order to allow the victory of resurrection.
Lord. Above all now I need to learn to die. Easily. No, not necessarily easily, but happily. Keep ever in front of me the image of the caterpillar.

Am reading Acts and am excited to trace the excitement of God's spreading gospel.

Today, another lovely fall day though we were promised rain. I awoke early to go swimming. Must work at 10 at the club for a luncheon. Painted last night. Studying my painting. It's difficult. Sandens come Thursday.