Jul 19, 2006

Beautiful Blogosphere

I'm often horrified at the things that happen via the internet. child pornography, terrorists planning 9/11's. And then there's spam from China. The world's largest export of water, air and internet pollution.

But it's not all bad. Take the fact you don't have to to the library to research things like "weddings in under four weeks." Or you can find long-lost friends. (or they can find you).

And then there are the sites and blogs you just stumble upon. My blog host, blogger, posts notice when I publish a blog, and I get hits from all around the world. Or I can do a search on words like "emergent" or "emergent church" or "chocolate" or "Larry Wilson" and find all sorts of YUMMY Things.

Well another blogger found my blog in similar fashion, and I was delighted to find hers.

Joanna lives in Pennsylvania. She drives home from work through thick green woods, past Civil War battlefields and signs that say, "Local Honey." Here's an excerpt from her blog about a recent excursion off the beaten path.

I followed the signs off of the exit and into a gravel driveway lined with shelves and shelves of green and blue mugs, bowls, and plates. The little table of honey sat right in from of me. Right behind that table was a backyard and the residents of the house grilling their dinner with friends. A little boy, probably five years old, with a perfect ringlet of hair hanging from his dark pony tail greeted me happily, and told me that they were going to eat supper. I looked around and picked out my jar of honey. The boys father came over welcomed me. He is a black man with a wild mane of white hair springing in all directions from his head, but his eyes are kind and his words open. He says his wife is Japanese and could I tell by looking at his son. I mumble something about that I didn't really notice, and he answers by placing a plum in my hand. "For you" He says. He asks me where I am from. I tell him about the convention and he says he would like to homeschool his children. I tell him about classical education and that our program teaches Latin to elementary students.
"Latin" he says, "That's very interesting... Are you a Christian?"
"Yes, I am"
"Praise the Lord"
I smile. I pay for my honey and a cantalope, and he tells me about an intern he has this summer, who he is training in pottery. She is a pastor's daughter and an art major, but cannot draw, he tells me. She worried too much about what people thought of her, so he told her to stop shaving her legs and to learn about herself. How can you know who you are if you don't even know what you smell like? He said she has opened up like a flower and is drawing like a third year art student and singing out loud by herself with her guitar.

I listen and nod, like I am not the clean, white, often inhibited woman that I am. I think he notices this, and when his wife comes out and says that supper is ready, he says goodbye and turns toward the house with no further thought of me. I feel somehow dismissed. I want to say, "But I was an art student, and I was homeschooled, and I had the guts to actually pull off the highway and meet you!" But I get into my car and back out onto the road.

As I head back to the highway I take a bite of the plum and juice pours into my mouth and down my arm and onto my pantlegs. My tastebuds reel at the strength of the flavor, and I marvel at each bite. The pit of the plum I toss out the window just as I pull onto the enrance ramp, feeling that it is more fitting that it stay there, near it's home. The stickiness of my hands on the steering wheel reminds me of the stop all the way home.

Wonderful prose. Check out Joanna's Blog. But I warn you, you'll gazze at the photos of her hostas, the other lovely flowers around the old farmhouse in which she lives, and you might want to up and move out to the country.

A search on the word "emergent on Blogger connected me to an emergent church, in my own town, run by guys who play guitar and sport scraggly soul patches. Of course, Larry already knew them. And I found 20 something kids who dig TS Elliott and cigars. A few weeks ago Larry stumbled onto a guy's blog who wrote about silence. I emailed him how much I appreciated his blog, and he sent me some meditations he's been writing using Chrsitian spirituality and the 12 steps.

People can rag on the internet. Or get addicted to it and not accomplish anything. True, email has made us less likely to speak directly to someone. But they probably said that when they invented the phone. Or answer machines. Ah, remember answer machines?

It's a fine world out there. Sometimes you gotta surf the net to believe it.


Joanna said...

Oh Susan, I'm flattered.


Anonymous said...

i'm gonna make my own site about it

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