Engines of Mordor

The engines of Mordor are at our gates. It was really hard to be at our house today. By the end of the day, the lot in the picture below is barren of house and trees.

We woke to the noises of destruction. I ran from bed to the window and saw a large yellow machine taking a giant bite out of a house across the parking lot from us. This particular house is one whose demolition I have been dreading. It was built in 1900, the same year as our house. It has been empty for a few years, but the windows and doors were mostly original and intact, not boarded up. It had wood floors, lovely woodwork. It was a nice, plain, old house. Bank-owned but not listed for sale, it apparently cost less to demolish than to repair.

I asked the men who were tearing it down if we could have a few windows and doors, since our house is still missing some of them. They declined. The house was too full of fumes from the SWAT team training exercises done there last week for them to be inside the house. The operator of the wrecking machine also told me that the wood could not be reclaimed or reused in any way because he would pulverize it. The entire thing was trashed, and they tore down the lot's large trees.Walking away from this disappointing encounter, I saw trucks pulling up to the bungalow across the street from us. This nice little house has been hard used as a rental, although it was drastically rehabilitated less than two years ago. The trash-out team of young men smashed every piece of furniture that had been left in the house by its previous occupants, and piled large trucks, all bound for the trash, full of things of every description. One said, "We'll take out all the trash, and then they'll tear it down. I don't *&%#ing care." He seemed to think the house being full of other people's abandoned things merited its demolition.

When I saw them carrying out a large oval mirror framed with carved wood, Paul stopped me from running out to ask for it. He knows I wouldn't know when to stop. They threw it on the pile and efficiently crushed it underfoot. (Mary snagged some fishing tackle and equipment. Paul saw some young neighbors of ours covertly making off with stacks of board games. More power to the scavengers!)

All day long we were literally surrounded by the sounds of destruction. Smashing, shattering, tearing, crushing.

We also got the sad news that a pile of construction materials were stolen from the yard of our new neighbors who are trying to breathe new life into another neglected property.

I ask for your prayers for new life here. I pray for the redemption and rebirth of these properties. For a renaissance of truth and beauty in this corner of the world. For us to recognize our history and learn from it. For families and neighbors to come together and protect, salvage, rebuilt, replant.How does the destruction of an old house, even a good old house, compare to greater evils? Senseless destruction of any kind is sad and wasteful, irresponsible. It is a little picture of a bad thing. Today, here, it was a noisy picture of a bad thing.
The above photo of Paul and some neighbors was taken by a neighbor kid we really care about. He used to live in one of the houses I was talking about today. I hope we will see him again.

Ukranian Easter Eggs

A few weeks ago, some of our family gathered at Oma's house to dye eggs for easter. These are called Pysanky, and they are traditional Ukranian Easter eggs. They look almost painted, but the process is actually just like batik-- you make designs in wax on the egg and dye the unwaxed shell, layering wax and colors. You can see here my eggs as well as the works-in-progress of our friend Lori.

The process is honestly rather tedious and can be rather infuriating, as eggs do break--but it is all the more beautiful for that--Lent is a season of patience and care. (plus it was great to talk and catch up while hunched over our eggs for hours on end!)

These are the tools of the trade. In the cup are kistkas. Each has a small metal funnel set through a wooden handle. To work an image on an egg, one scoops beeswax into the wide end of the cone, then heating the narrow end in the candle flame. As the wax melts, the kistka is drawn over the surface of the egg, leaving a trail of wax which hardens as it quickly cools. I'm not sure how much you can see in the above picture the varying thicknesses of line.

Ukranian eggs are usually bright vibrant colors, working from lightest to darkest. First is the color of the egg itself, then yellow, light green, dark green, red, etc... until all the colors are covered with black.

That's right; there's nothing pastel about this Easter! As wax and dye are layered on, the egg looks messy, clotted with globs of sometimes blackened wax, as you can see here in Mary's egg in progress. Underneath, however, the brilliant colors are preserved.

We tend to have illustrations of traditional Ukranian egg designs scattered over the table while we work, but I've noticed most of us (Mom and Diane excepted) just use these for ideas if at all, drawing freeform pictures. After an egg's design is completed, the artist actually holds it right in the candle flame to melt off the wax. The trick is not to singe the shell (or one's fingers!) or get the egg too hot. (They can explode!)

We're not Ukranian, but we've been making these eggs since I was a kid. The little ones were around, though we kept them well away from the work table! Gib loves to see his cousins (he had been begging to see 'Lyssa and Befany, and had lots of fun playing with his Cousin Nafan on the stairs) and we need excuses like this one to get together. Lent is the season before Easter. It is the last of winter before spring; and a time of self examination, of looking honestly at my own faults and wrongs; and of remembering Christ's love for me in light of these. The beauty is that looking at shadows more clearly shows light. Jesus' giving of himself shows his great love for me.

People think that Easter is about how Jesus died for us--it's not exactly. That's what Lent and Holy week (that's the week just before Easter) are about--the death of all in me that is not of God, of all my sinful self (my hatred, malice, injustices...) When Jesus died, all that in me died with him. But all this leads to Easter, the jubilation of life. For you see, His death was the end of Death, and then He came to Life. This is my greatest joy; Death turning into Life. Out of a ruin comes strong, beautiful life. Life vibrant and full, the breath of God in me. Ahh.
So, the eggs. I made the cross here glorious, in celebration of the life we have discovered in Christ. The other side is a hand with a heart. This is the Lenten side. The hands of Christ were written with love for me, as was written in Isaiah--See; I will not forget you; for I have carved you on the palm of my hand. I love that these are opposite sides of the same egg; for us every death leads to greater life. Death always turning into life.

Also an egg for Ezra; E on one side, a lovely red-cheeked babe on the other. Maybe a special egg for Gibbie will come next year. Being second, Ezra will need a few things just for him. And lastly, my rose egg. The thorns and blooms have long been a symbol of that same theme of sorrow turned to beauty.

May the brightest light shine into your deepest gloom.

Alleluia.