Virginny

Went to a conference at SVU in Buena Vista (Boo-eh-na Vee-sta), VA, which the locals call "Byoo-nah Vih-stah," much to the chagrin and aggravation of my sensitive ears. Why waste a perfectly melodic Spanish name like that?

Anyway, it's nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, or the foothills at least, which, if it hadn't been so drizzly, would have been lovely.





A little different from the scenery around here, but I missed my desert all the same.

Hobnobbed with the bigwigs: breakfast with the Bushmans and Givens(es), chatted up Pres. Smith of SVU, talked at length with R Orman of the LDS Museum, and made many great new friends from various parts, including a solid fellow from Manchester, UK, an independent scholar from the U of U Med School, a whippersnapper on his way to greatness in Iowa, a firecracker mom and scholar from St Louis, and a dark and brooding philosopher from Texas. Finally talked with B Jorgensen and others from BYU English--men I had known about but not really talked with while at BYU. Gave B and our British colleague a ride to the airport on Sunday, and we had a nice visit. Drove the Blue Ridge Parkway, had a lovely Italian meal (terrible Pizza Margherita, but the rest was good), and nice conversation. Great, as always, to see and converse with George Handley.

Presentation went well. Lots of conversation after.



Cloud Quiz Answers: Jonah--eagle's eye, Christopher--dragon. They'd love to hear what you see.

No "This Week in Islam" this week. Still reeling from the trip, and catching up at work. So solly.

In Memoriam: Myrtle Jensen

Requiescat:
Your life too often touched
By loss, you learned to smile and suffer much.

Each loss--of child,
Of sibling, full-grown child--
But smoothed the rough, and made you Jesus-mild.

The vacant rooms
Soon burst with newer kin:
Job's blessing, and no space to hold it in.

You loved each one as each:
Your late-come daughter's daughter
You fostered with quick smiles and easy laughter,

Warm homemade love,
Knit kisses unrestrained,
And healed her of a heritage of shame.

The grandsons born
With weak heart or weak limbs
Were cradled in your wellworn love for him

Whose broken form
You bore, nurtured, interred.
By this same love your daughters, too, endure.

All our daughters
And our sons you claimed,
You knew their faces, murmured each new name

As if your own:
And your own we will be
In God's good time, and sweet eternity.

So rest: your
Altar-loss has been restored,
What's left behind will yet be your reward.


Wendy's maternal grandmother, Myrtle Jensen, died this past weekend after a long decline. It is both blessing and, of course, cause for mourning. She was a tender soul, quicker to smile than frown, even as her limbs lost strength and the fog of age grew thick around her. She was tended faithfully by her husband, Evan, and by fine, devoted children and grandchildren. She left as she came in: warmed by loved ones, blessed with the happiness earned by trials and joys alike.

Wendy's parents called us up early Sunday morning to see if she could return home for the funeral, and we quickly made the arrangements. Those of you in Alberta who would like to see or speak to her in person or by phone can reach her at the Raymond manse. She'll be there from Monday night through Sunday. We know you'll respect the reason for her visit, but no one will complain if you call. The funeral is planned for Thursday.

Salaam. Namaste. Shantih. Shalom. Peace out.

More from us boys in a day or two. Sorry we're a few days late and several dirhams short. We know you'll forgive us, considering.