Not much to say, today, but wanted to show off one of my favorite photos. Surrounded by the safety in many uncles (the blue stripes and the adult finger belong to two of them) a young boy learns about which wildlife is to be trusted, a family tradition meant to instill wisdom and fearlessness:
Tomorrow I’ll show you why this post was late.
I seldom use the suggestions for Postaday blogging but one recent topic has struck my fancy: explaining my name.
Katharine is a popular name, if you count all its variants, such as Ekaterina, Caitlin, Kate, Kitty, and even Karen. Chosen by Russia for its famous queen, by Shakespeare for his famous shrew, and by the parents of the famous actresses, Carlyle, Hepburn, Z-Jones, and Ross, it is now also the top hit on every search engine because of England’s recent joy.
Katharine is also a family name, for me, handed down from my mother’s side. According to her, the family, being Lutheran, chose the name of Martin Luther’s wife for one of their daughters. Eventually it came to me to bear the honor of sharing with this great woman who never really achieved fame, nor wanted it.
We go farther back than that, however, back to the foundations of language, itself.
Specifically, the First Century Greek language contains words like katharismos, meaning “purifying”, and katharos, meaning “pure”. With Greek being the dominant language of much of the western world for some time, it yielded the name, Katharine, a good choice for parents to name a daughter if they aspired to purity for her, and a popular choice if they were educated people.
In the early fifties, I discovered my name means “purity”. I wish I could say this discovery dominated my every act from then on. However, the thought of it did lend me a certain awareness of possessing a backbone, of wondering about purity. Although this awareness resided quietly in the back of my mind for many years, it would occasionally surface, especially when I learned a meaning of any other name. In fact, learning name meanings became a hobby I enjoyed from about age eight.
No kidding, at a young age, I read baby name books from cover to cover, comparing the names of my acquaintances to my perceptions of their personalities, and, later, comparing the names of various beaus and the implications of the meanings, to my future.
Even today, when a person introduces himself to me, I mentally scour the pages of names I memorized for clues to his personality. Fitting or not, it colors my first impression. Still, I also realize we cannot help the name our parents chose and not every “John” grows up to be “Baptist”, although I believe each one is “given of God”, which is what the name means.
This beginning made me a person who feels sorry for people whose names have no meaning. Chosen from thin air because they feel good in the mouth, like pablum does, these names often are misspelled by any definition of phonetics. Often they also imply absence of a daddy in the “family”, and sometimes the absence of even a granddad or great-granddad. It saddens me, for the bearers’ sakes, this having no definition or history, no foundation or instruction for the core of their beings.
Like candy, their names give only short-term gratification and leave behind no sustenance.
I would be unfair, though, if I did not tell you one more thing about those Greek kathar- rooted words: They also gave us our word “cathartic”, which word I will leave you to look up, and to chuckle about, to yourself.
In honor of the 400th anniversary of the translation of the Bible into English, commissioned by King James of England in 1611, and originally published by Robert Barker, printer to the King, I will use this version for the rest of this year in these posts. Hope we can enjoy the quaint differences we find here and appreciate all that went into it.
Job Chapter 39
Knowest thou the time when the wild goates of the rocke bring forth? or canst thou marke when the hindes doe calue?
Canst thou number the moneths that they fulfill? or knowest thou the time when they bring forth?
They bowe themselues, they bring forth their young ones, they cast out their sorrowes.
Their yong ones are in good liking, they grow vp with corne: they go forth, and returne not vnto them.
Who hath sent out the wild asse free? or who hath loosed the bands of the wild asse?
Whose house I haue made the wildernesse, and the barren lande his dwellings.
He scorneth the multitude of the citie, neither regardeth he the crying of the driuer.
The range of the mountaines is his pasture, and hee searcheth after euery greene thing.
Will the Vnicorne be willing to serue thee? or abide by thy cribbe?
Canst thou binde the Vnicorne with his band in the furrow? or will he harrow the valleyes after thee?
Wilt thou trust him because his strength is great? or wilt thou leaue thy labour to him?
Wilt thou beleeue him that hee will bring home thy seed? and gather it into thy barne?
Gauest thou the goodly wings vnto the peacocks, or wings and feathers vnto the Ostrich?
Which leaueth her egges in the earth, and warmeth them in dust,
And forgetteth that the foot may crush them, or that the wilde beast may breake them.
She is hardened against her yong ones, as though they were not hers: her labour is in vaine without feare.
Because God hath depriued her of wisedome, neither hath he imparted to her vnderstanding.
What time she lifteth vp her selfe on high, she scorneth the horse and his rider.
Hast thou giuen the horse strength? hast thou clothed his necke with thunder?
Canst thou make him afraid as a grashopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible.
He paweth in the valley, and reioyceth in his strength: hee goeth on to meet the armed men.
He mocketh at feare, and is not affrighted: neither turneth he backe from the sword.
The quiuer ratleth against him, the glittering speare and the shield.
He swalloweth the ground with fiercenesse and rage: neither beleeueth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.
He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha: and he smelleth the battaile afarre off, the thunder of the captaines, and the shouting.
Doeth the hawke flie by thy wisedome, and stretch her wings toward the South?
Doeth the Eagle mount vp at thy commaund? and make her nest on high?
She dwelleth and abideth on the rocke, vpon the cragge of the rocke, and the strong place.
From thence she seeketh the pray, and her eyes behold a farre off.
Her yong ones also suck vp blood: and where the slaine are, there is he.
P.S. I picked these for you, all you moms out there. Enjoy!
Simple Gifts
‘Tis a gift to be simple, ‘tis a gift to be free.
‘Tis a gift to come round where you ought to be.
And when you find yourself in a place just right
‘Twill be in the land of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shall not be ashamed.
To turn and turn will be our delight,
Until turning, turning, we come round right.
Don’t you LOVE when an experimental trick turns out?
The first time I tried to make perfectly round fried eggs–the kind you put on an English muffin–I succeeded! My way is, I am sure, NOT how many people do it, but it suits me perfectly, I think.
And it was far more fun to figure it out myself, than to conform, anyway.
I know this breakfast post is supposed to come to you on Monday mornings, but life here is slow to return to normal. Lord willing, I will post another A-Okay Breakfast next Monday. In the meantime, try this:
All you need is butter and eggs and a small tin can, such as tuna comes in, or else a canning ring. I use a canning ring for our Frisbee Eggs. (We call them that because they are slightly domed on top and sometimes have a bubble underneath, close enough in shape to a Frisbee, making little ones laugh.)
Place the ring in a small fry pan.
Put about 1/2 teaspoon butter in the ring and turn on heat to medium, until butter completely melts.
Break medium egg into ring, holding ring down briefly, to prevent egg liquids from escaping underneath ring. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook until it is half-cooked.
Use fork to help lift egg and ring onto spatula, and flip egg and ring together.
Cook briefly on top side. Then flip again, to remove ring.
After removing ring, return to cooking top side until egg is done to your preference.
I had mine with several radish slices and salt. Served with 2 ounces pomegranate juice.
Next Monday, I hope to return to the old schedule with “Good Ol’ Bacon and Eggs”.
See ya’!
The folks at postaday asked us to list for them our top posts for the year. Since my Internet still has issues with the idea that I am trying to USE it, I thought I would repost this one for those who may have missed it. Hope you like it; it got scads of views!
I remember a dream house we moved into, once, that required walking through a nightmare before we could really own it. In a job relocation, we had looked everywhere for anything that would contain us all and that was not affected by the housing bubble. Funny, although it was the only house we could afford, it was clearly the biggest we’d ever seen. I mean, 4000 square feet with 7 acres far exceeded our hopes, in my favorite layout: an A-frame with wings. I thought it was a dream come true.
On closing day, our realtor apologized for having to board an airplane immediately for a business trip. A lie? Maybe, but certainly convenient for the realtor. The sellers skipped town, too. Our sold house was 400 miles away. The new job beckoned.
The promised cleaning had not happened. In fact, the house was far dirtier than at the showing. Everything unwanted from the attic lay strewn all over the game roomfloor—three garbage bags full of it. The kitchen looked like a murder had happened there. Probably someone had just dragged leaky packages of ground beef across the floor to the fridge when someone slipped and nearly fell in it. And had not wiped it up. Of course, the promised professional carpet cleaning existed only in the land of promises-promises. The finale for the day probably was the cat litter and feces on the dining room carpet and the animal barf on the laundry room floor. That is, until I lifted the nasty, old, wet, cleaning rag from the kitchen sink and found inside it a huge dog clunker. I screamed and nearly passed out, grabbed a plastic bag, and hurried the mess out the front door. And bleached absolutely everything while crying.
What followed was a month of the unbelievable. We mastered spot-treating carpet. I would steam clean every night until I could not remember how to turn the machine off, usually around 2 a.m. We learned how to remove vinyl wall-paper glue with a knife. We used five coats of sealer/primer on the purple paint. I list only part. No one believes the rest. Or cares, usually. Let’s say “the dream house became a nightmare.”
BUT—God went before us. Constantly we found signs of His loving approval. The perfect wallpaper in NEUTRAL colors went on sale for $4.00. A wonderful furniture salesman helped us find honest repairmen. We thank God, often, for the fact that of all the things that did not work, the smoke alarms did, since there was a fire, one night.
God blessed, protected, and boosted us as we slipped into this hard place. He gave us joy and strength as we plowed through insurmountable difficulties. One by one, each small space was ours, by right of conquest.
Lately I’ve been thinking about myself when the Lord first moved into my being. I think I know a bit about how He felt.
But He’s been up late, nights.
I am His by right of conquest.
In honor of the 400th anniversary of the translation of the Bible into English, commissioned by King James of England in 1611, and originally published by Robert Barker, printer to the King, I will use this version for the rest of this year in these posts. Hope we can enjoy the quaint differences we find here and appreciate all that went into it.
Haue yee not knowen? haue yee not heard? hath it not beene tolde you from the beginning? haue hee not vnderstood from the foundations of the earth?
It is he that sitteth vpon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grashoppers; that stretcheth out the heauens as a curtaine, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwel in;
That bringeth the princes to nothing; hee maketh the Iudges of the earth as vanitie.
Yea they shal not be planted, yea they shall not be sowen, yea their stocke shall not take roote in the earth: and he shall also blow vpon them, & they shall wither, and the whirlewinde whall take them away as stubble.
To whom then will ye liken me, or shal I be equall, saith the Holy One?
Lift vp your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number: he calleth them all by names, by the greatnesse of his might, for that hee is strong in power, not one faileth.
Why sayest thou, O Iacob, and speakest O Israel, My way is hid from the Lord, and my iudgement is passed ouer from my God?
Hast thou not knowen? hast thou not heard, that the euerlasting God, the Lord, the Creatour of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is wearie? there is no searching of his vnderstanding.
Isaiah 40:21-28
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