The snow falls in downy flakes. She breathes in the night air, cold and sharp against her lungs. She exhales a puff of breath into the still night. From her spot on the porch step, she watches the snow slip down in a lazy pattern, listless and silent. She keeps breathing in and out.
"What are you doing out here?" His voice comes from behind her, as comfortable and warm as a taste of spicy apple cider.
"It's cold," he is saying. The screen door creaks open, bathing the porch in light. Music pulses through the open door. He closes it behind him; the night quiets again. He sits down next to her on the step, his shoulder brushing against her. She shivers a bit.
"You cold?" he asks gently, wrapping an arm around her, solid and protective. She leans into his warmth, shivering again.
"Too hectic in there for you?" he asks. "Nell's Christmas parties are always pretty high energy." He flashes a smile into the night.
"Just thinking," she answers, smiling back. Her heart pounds. She wishes it would stop.
"Bout what?" he prods, softly twirling her hair between his fingers.
She is quiet. If only he knew what she'd been thinking of. They've been friends for nine years now, but lately, she has found herself thinking of him differently. . . Thinking of the way he smiles with one side of his lips tipped higher than the other. Of his absurd love of orange soda. Of the way it might feel to kiss him. Of the way he sings too loud. Of the way he hugs everyone. Of the way he plays Suduko on his phone when he thinks no one is looking. Of the way he makes her feel-- like her insides are just a big, warm bubble, light and airy and ready to burst at any moment.
"Um, well." She starts to make up an answer, then stops. Maybe it's the shadowy romance of the twinkle lights strung around the eaves of the house. Maybe it's the crsip scent of the feathery snowflakes. Maybe it's the slow strains of "Santa Baby" leaking from the house. Or maybe, she just hopes it'll stop her heart from pounding in her ears. But suddenly, she finds herself wanting to tell him the truth.
"Well..." She says again-- her tongue feels large for her mouth. "You, actually."
She pulls herself out of his embrace. She sits up straight, focusing intently on tracing her fingers over the wooden knots patterned into the porch steps. "You should ask me out on a date," she says lightly-- much more lightly than she feels. She suddenly feels as though she's made of bricks.
"Oh." He exhales softly next to her. His shoulders stiffen.
Santa baby, hurry down the chimney tonight, the music croons.
The moment stretches delicately between them. She steals a glance at him. He purposefully catches her gaze, and it takes her breath away. She cannot read his expression at all. He is unreachable, unfathomable.
But then, he hesitates. His jaw clenches in a tight line and he looks away from her.
And then, the world falls dizzingly into a blur of white cold.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Isaiah 42:16
I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,
along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them.
along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them.
Friday, December 3, 2010
John 3:19-24
By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything. Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence before God; and whatever we ask we receive from him, because we keep his commandments and do what pleases him. And this is his commandment, that we believe in the name of Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he commanded us. Whoever keeps his commandments abides in God, and God in him. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit whom he has given us.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Searching
Dig. Deep. Dirt.
One handful over the next
A small pile
Deep scent of earth
Overturned
Dense soil, thick and heavy
It's dark. Still
I am searching deep
In the dark dirt
I find nothing
In the depth of dark
Yet, I still dig to find
Find depth
Maybe I'll see blue sky
At the end
One handful over the next
A small pile
Deep scent of earth
Overturned
Dense soil, thick and heavy
It's dark. Still
I am searching deep
In the dark dirt
I find nothing
In the depth of dark
Yet, I still dig to find
Find depth
Maybe I'll see blue sky
At the end
Thursday, October 14, 2010
"Hello:" A Daydream
She has a mad crush on this guy from her English class.
He has eyes the color of a robin's egg, spackled with green.
His voice is deep and slow as a sad melody.
He looks like the sky on a day when the sun has warmed it to a light crisp.
He sits two seats away, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.
She daydreams–– sometimes, not all the time–– about how it would feel if he turned around and smiled. At her. He has a dimple in the corner of his left cheek. Perhaps it would peek out. At her.
And sometimes, but only sometimes, she thinks about what it'd be like to reach over and hand him a note that just says, "hello." Because that's all she has to say. It's not much, but it's so much, all at once.
He writes poetry on the back of his black math notebook, but no one knows. She's not some kind of stalker. She just knows because she sits two seats away from him. Which is close enough, and yet not close enough.
She doesn't daydream all the time, only sometimes.
But when she does, she imagines him in her kitchen. In the little house she'll have one day, the one with the red door.
He puts warm arms tight around her, pulling her close, safe. Her head rests heavy against his chest.
He breaths in the sweet, soapy scent of the curve of her neck, and says "hello," low in her ear.
He has eyes the color of a robin's egg, spackled with green.
His voice is deep and slow as a sad melody.
He looks like the sky on a day when the sun has warmed it to a light crisp.
He sits two seats away, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.
She daydreams–– sometimes, not all the time–– about how it would feel if he turned around and smiled. At her. He has a dimple in the corner of his left cheek. Perhaps it would peek out. At her.
And sometimes, but only sometimes, she thinks about what it'd be like to reach over and hand him a note that just says, "hello." Because that's all she has to say. It's not much, but it's so much, all at once.
He writes poetry on the back of his black math notebook, but no one knows. She's not some kind of stalker. She just knows because she sits two seats away from him. Which is close enough, and yet not close enough.
She doesn't daydream all the time, only sometimes.
But when she does, she imagines him in her kitchen. In the little house she'll have one day, the one with the red door.
He puts warm arms tight around her, pulling her close, safe. Her head rests heavy against his chest.
He breaths in the sweet, soapy scent of the curve of her neck, and says "hello," low in her ear.
The Mark
Angry red. Rough ridges tattooed into skin.
It left a mark, the ring I wore today.
Bit my finger, sinking in and trying to stay.
Red marks like bumps of molded cheese.
I have removed the ring, but still it won't leave.
Its mark is indented deep in skin
The ring I wore left a mark
Though it's gone, it stays.
My fourth finger bears the mark that was left on my heart.
It left a mark, the ring I wore today.
Bit my finger, sinking in and trying to stay.
Red marks like bumps of molded cheese.
I have removed the ring, but still it won't leave.
Its mark is indented deep in skin
The ring I wore left a mark
Though it's gone, it stays.
My fourth finger bears the mark that was left on my heart.
Juxtaposition
Maybe I'll fly, she says to herself
Or maybe I'll stay right here
Maybe I'll run, maybe I'll walk
If I can just push through fear
How can the sky be so endless, she thinks
While still slowly sealing me in
Trapped to the ground that's not at all solid
I'm rolled and tossed by wind
Maybe If I stayed in a vacuum
It's still & quiet-- I have space
Yet she realizes it sucks her breath
Till she longs for a breeze on her face
Or maybe I'll stay right here
Maybe I'll run, maybe I'll walk
If I can just push through fear
How can the sky be so endless, she thinks
While still slowly sealing me in
Trapped to the ground that's not at all solid
I'm rolled and tossed by wind
Maybe If I stayed in a vacuum
It's still & quiet-- I have space
Yet she realizes it sucks her breath
Till she longs for a breeze on her face
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Quotation by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Beauty is the mark God sets upon virtue.
The world thus exists to the soul to satisfy our desire of beauty.
Beauty, in its largest and profoundest sense, is one expression for the universe. God is all-fair. Truth, and goodness, and beauty are but different faces of the same All.
Idealism sees the world in God. It beholds the whole circle of persons and things, of actions and events, not as painfully accumulated, atom after atom, act after act, in an aged creeping Past, but as one vast picture which God paints on the instant eternity for the contemplation of our soul.
The world thus exists to the soul to satisfy our desire of beauty.
Beauty, in its largest and profoundest sense, is one expression for the universe. God is all-fair. Truth, and goodness, and beauty are but different faces of the same All.
Idealism sees the world in God. It beholds the whole circle of persons and things, of actions and events, not as painfully accumulated, atom after atom, act after act, in an aged creeping Past, but as one vast picture which God paints on the instant eternity for the contemplation of our soul.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Autumn Time and Family Ties
Tonight, I felt autumn. Yes, autumn is a feeling as much as it is a season. It’s my favorite time of year, hands down. The cold edge in the twilight. The hint of smokiness tinging the air. The crispness of colors, of breeze, of sunshine and shadow.
Fall makes me nostalgic. Suddenly, I’m a little kid again. In those moments as a child, I first grasped ––and reveled in–– the good in life. I believe in pursuing happiness, re-living being a child, enjoying moments, searching for the beautiful...all because I had these lovely, peaceful autumn moments...
Snuggling with sisters––three best friends. Fuzzy, striped socks curled under that old patchwork quilt. You can stick your little toes through the holes.
Eating marshmallow popovers on the couch ‘cause mom’s not in the room.
The pumpkins carved and standing plump and cheerful on the kitchen table.
The apple crisp baking in the oven, sending spicy cinnamon to the shadowy corners of the house.
The tea kettle whistling. There’s nothing wrong with a third cup of tea with lots of milk and sugar.
Rich smell of the fire being lit downstairs. George Winston’s piano lilting sweetly on the stereo.
The tapping of rain against window panes–– a soothing rhythm. The world grey, clean, chilled. Sitting in my own book-world, wrapped under my down comforter with a cat purring at my side.
The music of Little Women on the TV. There’s nothing more homey than the sound of Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. It’s about sisters who live life loving each other.
The Christmas lights winking-- demure, friendly.
These moments, small and seemingly insignificant, shaped me. They created memories that I hold onto (and re-create) now... especially when I feel alone, worried, insignificant, disappointed, burdened.
In those moments, life is cozy. No one can burst the golden. I’m secure, no one can break me. No one can hurt me. Here, I am untroubled by any petty problem.
In that moment, life is warm. And I am safe again.
Fall makes me nostalgic. Suddenly, I’m a little kid again. In those moments as a child, I first grasped ––and reveled in–– the good in life. I believe in pursuing happiness, re-living being a child, enjoying moments, searching for the beautiful...all because I had these lovely, peaceful autumn moments...
Snuggling with sisters––three best friends. Fuzzy, striped socks curled under that old patchwork quilt. You can stick your little toes through the holes.
Eating marshmallow popovers on the couch ‘cause mom’s not in the room.
The pumpkins carved and standing plump and cheerful on the kitchen table.
The apple crisp baking in the oven, sending spicy cinnamon to the shadowy corners of the house.
The tea kettle whistling. There’s nothing wrong with a third cup of tea with lots of milk and sugar.
Rich smell of the fire being lit downstairs. George Winston’s piano lilting sweetly on the stereo.
The tapping of rain against window panes–– a soothing rhythm. The world grey, clean, chilled. Sitting in my own book-world, wrapped under my down comforter with a cat purring at my side.
The music of Little Women on the TV. There’s nothing more homey than the sound of Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. It’s about sisters who live life loving each other.
The Christmas lights winking-- demure, friendly.
These moments, small and seemingly insignificant, shaped me. They created memories that I hold onto (and re-create) now... especially when I feel alone, worried, insignificant, disappointed, burdened.
In those moments, life is cozy. No one can burst the golden. I’m secure, no one can break me. No one can hurt me. Here, I am untroubled by any petty problem.
In that moment, life is warm. And I am safe again.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
The White Dress
There once was a girl in a white dress.
The dress is trimmed in lace, it has ruffled sleeves. When she twirls, it furls around her, a pearly parachute. She can float, she can dance, she is an angel, she is a princess.
Her small brown feet trip lightly through the meadow. She scatters dandelion petals in one breath. She plays hide-and-go-seek with the oak tree. The air sparkles like chilled champagne. She is young and carefree. She is beautiful.
But then, one afternoon when the sun is full and hot, she slips. Mud splatters dark stains against the white. The lace rips, shredding the dress into a gossamer cobweb. Her hair comes undone, curls slip onto her neck.
The tears fall then-- smooth, in long streams down her freckled cheeks. She sits in the pile of mud, bewildered and afraid.
Then, she stands up. She stands up tall. She steps away from the mud, dark as pain, and into the shade of the oak tree.
The rain starts. It starts with a rumble of thunder, a groan against the gray sky. It starts with a few droplets speckling the grass.
And then it pours. The torrent of water sends shivers of streams running over the meadow. The tree bends and bows regally in the gust.
She steps out in the rain, under the water. It soaks her. Her skin glistens. Her dress hangs off her small frame, delicate and cream.
The rain washes away all the mud.
And she raises her hands, and she dances in her white dress.
The dress is trimmed in lace, it has ruffled sleeves. When she twirls, it furls around her, a pearly parachute. She can float, she can dance, she is an angel, she is a princess.
Her small brown feet trip lightly through the meadow. She scatters dandelion petals in one breath. She plays hide-and-go-seek with the oak tree. The air sparkles like chilled champagne. She is young and carefree. She is beautiful.
But then, one afternoon when the sun is full and hot, she slips. Mud splatters dark stains against the white. The lace rips, shredding the dress into a gossamer cobweb. Her hair comes undone, curls slip onto her neck.
The tears fall then-- smooth, in long streams down her freckled cheeks. She sits in the pile of mud, bewildered and afraid.
Then, she stands up. She stands up tall. She steps away from the mud, dark as pain, and into the shade of the oak tree.
The rain starts. It starts with a rumble of thunder, a groan against the gray sky. It starts with a few droplets speckling the grass.
And then it pours. The torrent of water sends shivers of streams running over the meadow. The tree bends and bows regally in the gust.
She steps out in the rain, under the water. It soaks her. Her skin glistens. Her dress hangs off her small frame, delicate and cream.
The rain washes away all the mud.
And she raises her hands, and she dances in her white dress.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Things I Don't Understand
How tides control the sea, and what becomes of me
How little things can slip out of your hands
How often people change, not to remain the same
Why things don't always turn out as you plan
These are things that I don't understand
Yeah, these are things that I don't understand
I can't, and I can't decide
Wrong, oh my wrong from right
Day, oh my day from night
Dark, oh my dark from light
I live, but I love this life
How infinite is space, and who decides your fate
Why everything will dissolve into sand
How to avoid defeat, when truth and fiction meet
Why nothing ever turns out as you plan
These are things that I don't understand
Yeah, these are things that I don't understand
I can , and I can't decide
Wrong, oh my wrong from right
Day, oh my day from night
Or dark, oh my dark from light
I live, but I love this life
How little things can slip out of your hands
How often people change, not to remain the same
Why things don't always turn out as you plan
These are things that I don't understand
Yeah, these are things that I don't understand
I can't, and I can't decide
Wrong, oh my wrong from right
Day, oh my day from night
Dark, oh my dark from light
I live, but I love this life
How infinite is space, and who decides your fate
Why everything will dissolve into sand
How to avoid defeat, when truth and fiction meet
Why nothing ever turns out as you plan
These are things that I don't understand
Yeah, these are things that I don't understand
I can , and I can't decide
Wrong, oh my wrong from right
Day, oh my day from night
Or dark, oh my dark from light
I live, but I love this life
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
"Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your blessings. And once you have achieved a state of contentedness, you must never become lax about maintaining it. You must make a mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it."
— Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)
— Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)
Monday, July 12, 2010
This is Life
"This is life," Dad said to me,
"It's hard work, and its real and has pain.
But family, friends and simple moments
Are all you'll need at the end of the day."
"This is life," Mom said to me,
"People will always break your heart.
But our purpose here is to turn and serve others,
Then, through you, God's love will impart."
"This is life," Shelby said to me,
"Sometimes you go through trials.
But God speaks softly to us and says,
'My peace I leave with you, My child.'"
"This is life," Paige said to me,
"It's hard to know who to trust.
But know that you're strong and will find a smile,
So move onwards and pull yourself up."
"This is life," Auntie said to me,
"Sometimes things seem without reason.
But life is long, and God is good
And this is only just a season."
"This is life," Grandma said to me,
"You want to protect the ones you love.
But you can't, so just pray and entrust them
to Him who orchestrates all from above."
"This is life," the Father said to me,
"You'll fall, and sin, and know pain.
But I'll protect you & guide you, & be right beside you,
Even unto the end of your days."
"It's hard work, and its real and has pain.
But family, friends and simple moments
Are all you'll need at the end of the day."
"This is life," Mom said to me,
"People will always break your heart.
But our purpose here is to turn and serve others,
Then, through you, God's love will impart."
"This is life," Shelby said to me,
"Sometimes you go through trials.
But God speaks softly to us and says,
'My peace I leave with you, My child.'"
"This is life," Paige said to me,
"It's hard to know who to trust.
But know that you're strong and will find a smile,
So move onwards and pull yourself up."
"This is life," Auntie said to me,
"Sometimes things seem without reason.
But life is long, and God is good
And this is only just a season."
"This is life," Grandma said to me,
"You want to protect the ones you love.
But you can't, so just pray and entrust them
to Him who orchestrates all from above."
"This is life," the Father said to me,
"You'll fall, and sin, and know pain.
But I'll protect you & guide you, & be right beside you,
Even unto the end of your days."
Friday, June 4, 2010
Legacies
I sat in a quaint Grass Valley church today at my Papa's memorial service. Flowers were knotted at the end of each pew and lining the small stage. On the screen at the side, pictures of my grandfather flipped through in a slideshow. In each picture, he was surrounded by family. He had 6 kids--such a fun, large family. I loved seeing my dad in college in the tiny shorts. Or Aunt Margie when she was a spunky, brown kid running around on the beach. There were pictures of me and my sisters reading in his lap, or him and my Nana at family Christmas and birthday parties. When the slideshow ended, there wasn't a dry eye in the church.
Watching it, and listening to all his kids and grandkids share their favorite memories of Papa, I realized all over again the importance of family. I've always been a family girl, a homebody. But family can be frustrating, dysfunctional, and just a bit zany. But they're family. And sometimes, that's all that matters–– that's all we need. Hearing stories about a Papa that I could barely remember (he'd been sick for so long), I noticed that there were so many things he passed down to his kids. Those crazy random songs my dad makes up? He got that from Papa. The random nuttiness and humor... a strong emotional side... family loyalty and love of home...it's all stuff that started with him and got passed all the way down to us. My Papa and Nana started a legacy, and now we all have each other––one big, happy, crazy family. Everyone banned together over these last days, laughing and eating... and just remembering why we all love each other.
I loved seeing my Papa remembered. I loved seeing all the things he had passed down to his family. Things that I will one day pass on to my kids. Families can't help but be messy sometimes. But when we have unconditional love, when we cling to good memories, when we embrace the lovely things about family...that's what's good about life. I hope that at my memorial service, my children will be happy about the things I passed on to them. And I hope one thing they learn from me is the love of family.
Watching it, and listening to all his kids and grandkids share their favorite memories of Papa, I realized all over again the importance of family. I've always been a family girl, a homebody. But family can be frustrating, dysfunctional, and just a bit zany. But they're family. And sometimes, that's all that matters–– that's all we need. Hearing stories about a Papa that I could barely remember (he'd been sick for so long), I noticed that there were so many things he passed down to his kids. Those crazy random songs my dad makes up? He got that from Papa. The random nuttiness and humor... a strong emotional side... family loyalty and love of home...it's all stuff that started with him and got passed all the way down to us. My Papa and Nana started a legacy, and now we all have each other––one big, happy, crazy family. Everyone banned together over these last days, laughing and eating... and just remembering why we all love each other.
I loved seeing my Papa remembered. I loved seeing all the things he had passed down to his family. Things that I will one day pass on to my kids. Families can't help but be messy sometimes. But when we have unconditional love, when we cling to good memories, when we embrace the lovely things about family...that's what's good about life. I hope that at my memorial service, my children will be happy about the things I passed on to them. And I hope one thing they learn from me is the love of family.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The End of All Things
"Therefore, they are before the throne of God
and serve him day and night in his temple;
and he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them.
Never again will they hunger;
never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat upon them,
nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd;
he will lead them to springs of living water.
And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
--Revelation
I always thought Revelation was a kind of a depressing book in the Bible. But then I re-read it and I realized how hopeful it was. God's heart is to be with us. Yes, He will reap judgment on those who he called and called, but who refused to listen. But he takes care of his beloved children. He wants to reveal himself to us more every day. He wants to give us all understanding of Himself.
This realization really came home to me this week. I've also have had to read Isaiah, Hosea, Daniel, and Jeremiah in the last week for classes... plus I'm trying to finish memorizing 1 Peter. So I've been inundated with God's word. And in all these different books with different authors, I saw God's heart flawlessly sewn together throughout the whole. He wants to love us and reveal himself to us! That's a major theme in any part of the Bible. He calls us, He's patient with us, we are His bride.
And Revelation reminded me that one day, there'll be no more mystery. Only awe. We'll be before this throne in the beautiful light and be utterly fulfilled with Him. No pain or longing or hardship. Just perfection... holiness..love...peace...joy...fulfillment. I love it.
and serve him day and night in his temple;
and he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them.
Never again will they hunger;
never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat upon them,
nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd;
he will lead them to springs of living water.
And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
--Revelation
I always thought Revelation was a kind of a depressing book in the Bible. But then I re-read it and I realized how hopeful it was. God's heart is to be with us. Yes, He will reap judgment on those who he called and called, but who refused to listen. But he takes care of his beloved children. He wants to reveal himself to us more every day. He wants to give us all understanding of Himself.
This realization really came home to me this week. I've also have had to read Isaiah, Hosea, Daniel, and Jeremiah in the last week for classes... plus I'm trying to finish memorizing 1 Peter. So I've been inundated with God's word. And in all these different books with different authors, I saw God's heart flawlessly sewn together throughout the whole. He wants to love us and reveal himself to us! That's a major theme in any part of the Bible. He calls us, He's patient with us, we are His bride.
And Revelation reminded me that one day, there'll be no more mystery. Only awe. We'll be before this throne in the beautiful light and be utterly fulfilled with Him. No pain or longing or hardship. Just perfection... holiness..love...peace...joy...fulfillment. I love it.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Pick me up...
Things to do to bring a smile... even on a day when it doesn't seem possible:)
Play your happiest song with a fun beat. Play it LOUD.
Sit out in the sunshine. Bask in it.
Light candles. Good smelling ones.
Pick up your favorite food or dessert. Sit on the floor and eat it.
Take a bubble bath with the book you've read 8 times.
Watch a happy movie with quotes that make you laugh. Write down your favorite ones.
Bake. Chocolate cake preferably. oh yum.
Cuddle with a kitty. Their purr is the most contented sound in the world.
Cut roses and put them in your room. Let the colors cheer you up.
Wear your cutest outfit. Put on some flavored lipgloss.
Find some water: a fountain, the pool, a stream, the lake. The sound of water is soothing.
Hug someone. Hugging releases happy hormones. A nice big comfy bear hug.
Draw. Write. Sing. Play piano. Paint. Sew. Do something creative that you love. Be inspired.
Hang out with little kids. They lift your spirits.
Walk in the grass barefoot.
Cook something fabulous, and healthy.
Cuddle up in bed with blankets and a journal. Popcorn too.
If you love to drive as much as I do, just go for a drive. Windows down.
Go explore. Find a random spot with a tree or a pond.
Lie on your back and watch the clouds.
Go swing on some swings or climb on the monkey bars. Be carefree.
Go for a walk with your dog in the twilight.
Brew a cup of tea.
There's joy peaking round every corner. You just have to catch it sometimes.
Play your happiest song with a fun beat. Play it LOUD.
Sit out in the sunshine. Bask in it.
Light candles. Good smelling ones.
Pick up your favorite food or dessert. Sit on the floor and eat it.
Take a bubble bath with the book you've read 8 times.
Watch a happy movie with quotes that make you laugh. Write down your favorite ones.
Bake. Chocolate cake preferably. oh yum.
Cuddle with a kitty. Their purr is the most contented sound in the world.
Cut roses and put them in your room. Let the colors cheer you up.
Wear your cutest outfit. Put on some flavored lipgloss.
Find some water: a fountain, the pool, a stream, the lake. The sound of water is soothing.
Hug someone. Hugging releases happy hormones. A nice big comfy bear hug.
Draw. Write. Sing. Play piano. Paint. Sew. Do something creative that you love. Be inspired.
Hang out with little kids. They lift your spirits.
Walk in the grass barefoot.
Cook something fabulous, and healthy.
Cuddle up in bed with blankets and a journal. Popcorn too.
If you love to drive as much as I do, just go for a drive. Windows down.
Go explore. Find a random spot with a tree or a pond.
Lie on your back and watch the clouds.
Go swing on some swings or climb on the monkey bars. Be carefree.
Go for a walk with your dog in the twilight.
Brew a cup of tea.
There's joy peaking round every corner. You just have to catch it sometimes.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
The Psalms through Children's Art
I went to a lecture last night. It's a requirement for my Torrey program that I have to go to a certain amount of lectures every semester. This one was lead by Dr. Sanders. I was exhausted going into the lecture. I'd been on campus since 8 that morning. I worked from 8-10 am ( and I am not a morning person), had back-to-back glasses from 10:15-1:15, worked my second job from 1:30-4:30, then had Torrey class from 5-8 pm. So, by the time I sat down in the lecture room at 8:15, all I wanted to do was curl up in my own bed.
But then, Dr. Sanders introduced his topic.
Every night, he reads through the Bible with his 2 kids-- ages 7 and 9. They've read almost every chapter of the Bible starting with Genesis 1, all the way to the Psalms. But how do you teach your kids about the Psalms and keep them engaged? There aren't epic battles, crashing walls, floating zoos, or crazy plagues in this book. So, Dr. Sander's kids are drawing a picture every night that depicts the Psalm that's being read. Cool, huh?
This just made me think about how beautiful the Bible is and how even children can capture the emotions behind it.
9-year-old Freddy decided to give his drawings a common theme: the color orange and desert animals. In each one, Yahweh is portrayed as a mighty desert eagle, and the Psalmist is a striped armadillo. When foes surround the armadillo (a snake and coyotes), the eagles hovers above to carry him to safety. Isn't that such a true portrayal of David's heart in the psalms? God is right there to swoop in-- a mighty eagle.
Little Phoebe, who's only 7, also captured the Psalms through her art. My favorite one was her depiction of the verse that says, "My God, my God why have you forsaken me?" She put those words, in her faltering, child-like handwriting across the majority of the page. Just lots of blank space and that one scrawled verse. And then, in the corner, was the drawing of a small cat. Just a tiny kitty sitting there in the corner, all alone. From the marker of a 7 year old who doesn't yet know what it means to be forsaken, she captures the emotion perfectly.
Some of the drawings were so funny! For the verse "Serve me in fear", Phoebe drew a waiter serving a table saying "ahhhhh" in fear:) And my favorite: one of the Psalms said something like, "My God delivered me, He preserved me from my enemies." So Freddy drew the eagle driving the armadillo away in a mail truck (He delivered me), and then a picture of the eagle carrying the armadillo in a ziplock baggy (He preserved me). So cute:)
Anyways, all this got me thinking about the heart of children and how, no matter the age, the Bible can be understood. Yes, it's a confusing book sometimes, but we can still feel its impact on our souls. We can feel the beauty of His Word. We know at a young age that God is mighty. He can save us. He leads us beside the still waters. He favors us because we're His children. He blesses us and protects us. There's so much we can learn and know, even at a young age.
I just realized that I can't wait to get older and older and know more about God's character and His word as I keep growing up. But I also want to hold on to that child-like beauty and simplicity.
But then, Dr. Sanders introduced his topic.
Every night, he reads through the Bible with his 2 kids-- ages 7 and 9. They've read almost every chapter of the Bible starting with Genesis 1, all the way to the Psalms. But how do you teach your kids about the Psalms and keep them engaged? There aren't epic battles, crashing walls, floating zoos, or crazy plagues in this book. So, Dr. Sander's kids are drawing a picture every night that depicts the Psalm that's being read. Cool, huh?
This just made me think about how beautiful the Bible is and how even children can capture the emotions behind it.
9-year-old Freddy decided to give his drawings a common theme: the color orange and desert animals. In each one, Yahweh is portrayed as a mighty desert eagle, and the Psalmist is a striped armadillo. When foes surround the armadillo (a snake and coyotes), the eagles hovers above to carry him to safety. Isn't that such a true portrayal of David's heart in the psalms? God is right there to swoop in-- a mighty eagle.
Little Phoebe, who's only 7, also captured the Psalms through her art. My favorite one was her depiction of the verse that says, "My God, my God why have you forsaken me?" She put those words, in her faltering, child-like handwriting across the majority of the page. Just lots of blank space and that one scrawled verse. And then, in the corner, was the drawing of a small cat. Just a tiny kitty sitting there in the corner, all alone. From the marker of a 7 year old who doesn't yet know what it means to be forsaken, she captures the emotion perfectly.
Some of the drawings were so funny! For the verse "Serve me in fear", Phoebe drew a waiter serving a table saying "ahhhhh" in fear:) And my favorite: one of the Psalms said something like, "My God delivered me, He preserved me from my enemies." So Freddy drew the eagle driving the armadillo away in a mail truck (He delivered me), and then a picture of the eagle carrying the armadillo in a ziplock baggy (He preserved me). So cute:)
Anyways, all this got me thinking about the heart of children and how, no matter the age, the Bible can be understood. Yes, it's a confusing book sometimes, but we can still feel its impact on our souls. We can feel the beauty of His Word. We know at a young age that God is mighty. He can save us. He leads us beside the still waters. He favors us because we're His children. He blesses us and protects us. There's so much we can learn and know, even at a young age.
I just realized that I can't wait to get older and older and know more about God's character and His word as I keep growing up. But I also want to hold on to that child-like beauty and simplicity.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Nostalgia
Nostalgia: "a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations."
I've been thinking a lot about this concept lately. I have a natural sense of nostalgia, but for something that I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe the way to describe it is just by saying I have a constant sensation of longing. But for a place that I've never really been, and don't believe exists on earth.
I think we all have it. Some long for the south, the beach, the snow, the city, the mountains-- even if they've never seen them. For me, the place that most fulfilled my feelings of nostalgia was the Lake District in England. Driving up on the bus, I immediately felt like I was coming home–– except I'd never been here before. I took one look at the sleepy town, the orange and red hills, the sweeping views of the lake, and I began to tingle to my toes. I had to be out in it-- exploring, dancing, taking in every inch of it. How could I connect so intimately and fully to a place that two hours ago had only been a dot on a map?
I am a lover of beauty. It makes my soul ache in the deepest part of me, which is a weird way to describe it, I know. But it's the only way to phrase something this indescribable. Put me in the midst of nature and I am completely at peace. I love rolling hills, white picked fences, waterfalls, small stone bridges, orchards,streams, wildflowers, ivy, gray twilight, fall leaves... And yes, all these things can be found on earth. When I see these things, something in my soul rejoices. But what's strange is that even as I soak up earthly beauty, I still feel that nostalgia, that sense of sentiment–– as if these things are only reminding me of something better that I've enjoyed more.
So this got me thinking. It's so interesting that God has placed these longings within us. And I think it's because we are longing for small pieces of heaven. And while on earth, we can only capture fleeting glimpses of this perfect place. When I ache from experiencing something lovely here on earth, I must be nostalgic for heaven-- the place filled with all that's insanely beautiful and good. A place that will never leave me wanting more. And I must be headed there, because my soul is nostalgic for it every day.
I've been thinking a lot about this concept lately. I have a natural sense of nostalgia, but for something that I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe the way to describe it is just by saying I have a constant sensation of longing. But for a place that I've never really been, and don't believe exists on earth.
I think we all have it. Some long for the south, the beach, the snow, the city, the mountains-- even if they've never seen them. For me, the place that most fulfilled my feelings of nostalgia was the Lake District in England. Driving up on the bus, I immediately felt like I was coming home–– except I'd never been here before. I took one look at the sleepy town, the orange and red hills, the sweeping views of the lake, and I began to tingle to my toes. I had to be out in it-- exploring, dancing, taking in every inch of it. How could I connect so intimately and fully to a place that two hours ago had only been a dot on a map?
I am a lover of beauty. It makes my soul ache in the deepest part of me, which is a weird way to describe it, I know. But it's the only way to phrase something this indescribable. Put me in the midst of nature and I am completely at peace. I love rolling hills, white picked fences, waterfalls, small stone bridges, orchards,streams, wildflowers, ivy, gray twilight, fall leaves... And yes, all these things can be found on earth. When I see these things, something in my soul rejoices. But what's strange is that even as I soak up earthly beauty, I still feel that nostalgia, that sense of sentiment–– as if these things are only reminding me of something better that I've enjoyed more.
So this got me thinking. It's so interesting that God has placed these longings within us. And I think it's because we are longing for small pieces of heaven. And while on earth, we can only capture fleeting glimpses of this perfect place. When I ache from experiencing something lovely here on earth, I must be nostalgic for heaven-- the place filled with all that's insanely beautiful and good. A place that will never leave me wanting more. And I must be headed there, because my soul is nostalgic for it every day.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Weary World
I'm weary of this world today,
There's no balance to be found.
I'm weary of this place today,
Only pain and fear abound
Everywhere I look there's hurt,
And sin wounds every heart.
Evil twists all that's good;
World falls deeper into dark
Instead of truth, beauty, sweetness
There's selfishness, pride, and malice
A gaping span between good and bad
How do I live in a world this callous?
(I'm told to be pure
In a sex-riddled world
I'm told to be hopeful
In a place damned to hell
I'm told to be kind
While torn apart inside
I'm told to be a servant
But will it be worth it
I'm told to just love
But I've found I can't trust
I'm told to have faith
But it's such a long wait).
But then in the chaos,
Amidst all the noise,
Comes a sweet whisper,
A strong and gentle voice:
'Breathe my fragrant peace'
I hear His tender call:
'Walk with me till morning
I won't ever let you fall...
'Rest in fields of flowers,
Find refuge in my strength,
Love me with all your heart,
I won't ever cause you pain...
'I'll draw near to you and be
A shepherd in your need.
You'll walk along still waters,
If you'll follow, I will lead...
'You're weary of this world today,
But I'm the One who saves.
You're weary of this time, I know,
But, beloved girl, just wait."
At His voice, the white noise stilled,
All pain was washed away.
Chains were loosed; I was free,
I found that I could pray:
'While I toil here on earth,
May I bring a smile to Your face
Wrap me in Your arms, God
For I'm weary of this place.'
There's no balance to be found.
I'm weary of this place today,
Only pain and fear abound
Everywhere I look there's hurt,
And sin wounds every heart.
Evil twists all that's good;
World falls deeper into dark
Instead of truth, beauty, sweetness
There's selfishness, pride, and malice
A gaping span between good and bad
How do I live in a world this callous?
(I'm told to be pure
In a sex-riddled world
I'm told to be hopeful
In a place damned to hell
I'm told to be kind
While torn apart inside
I'm told to be a servant
But will it be worth it
I'm told to just love
But I've found I can't trust
I'm told to have faith
But it's such a long wait).
But then in the chaos,
Amidst all the noise,
Comes a sweet whisper,
A strong and gentle voice:
'Breathe my fragrant peace'
I hear His tender call:
'Walk with me till morning
I won't ever let you fall...
'Rest in fields of flowers,
Find refuge in my strength,
Love me with all your heart,
I won't ever cause you pain...
'I'll draw near to you and be
A shepherd in your need.
You'll walk along still waters,
If you'll follow, I will lead...
'You're weary of this world today,
But I'm the One who saves.
You're weary of this time, I know,
But, beloved girl, just wait."
At His voice, the white noise stilled,
All pain was washed away.
Chains were loosed; I was free,
I found that I could pray:
'While I toil here on earth,
May I bring a smile to Your face
Wrap me in Your arms, God
For I'm weary of this place.'
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
"All that is good, all that is true, all that is beautiful, all that is beneficent, be it great or small, be it perfect or fragmentary, natural as well as supernatural, moral as well as material, comes from Him."
-John Henry Newman (from "The Idea of a University")
I saw this as a kind of a partial response to my last post...
-John Henry Newman (from "The Idea of a University")
I saw this as a kind of a partial response to my last post...
Food for Thought
The following article was written by atheist by Penn Jillette, an academic, lecturer, writer, and comedian. This was posted by him on NPR's blog. I found it fascinating and have been mulling over it ever since...
As a Christian, do I fall into some of these stereotypes that he mentions? How would I respond to the argument he is proposing? Do I fall into a judgemental bubble? Do I still have fun? Can I still learn and grow? Do I ostracize myself? Do I just stick to rigid rules of thought for no good reason? Why do I believe what I believe? How do I defend myself in the face of such persuasive arguments for the contrary? I know that my faith is real, but do I allow myself to be honest and human at the same time? Why do Christians have such a hard time being genuine?
Read it. Think.
"I believe that there is no God. I'm beyond atheism. Atheism is not believing in God. Not believing in God is easy -- you can't prove a negative, so there's no work to do. You can't prove that there isn't an elephant inside the trunk of my car. You sure? How about now? Maybe he was just hiding before. Check again. Did I mention that my personal heartfelt definition of the word "elephant" includes mystery, order, goodness, love and a spare tire?
So, anyone with a love for truth outside of herself has to start with no belief in God and then look for evidence of God. She needs to search for some objective evidence of a supernatural power. All the people I write e-mails to often are still stuck at this searching stage. The atheism part is easy.
But, this "This I Believe" thing seems to demand something more personal, some leap of faith that helps one see life's big picture, some rules to live by. So, I'm saying, "This I believe: I believe there is no God."
Having taken that step, it informs every moment of my life. I'm not greedy. I have love, blue skies, rainbows and Hallmark cards, and that has to be enough. It has to be enough, but it's everything in the world and everything in the world is plenty for me. It seems just rude to beg the invisible for more. Just the love of my family that raised me and the family I'm raising now is enough that I don't need heaven. I won the huge genetic lottery and I get joy every day.
Believing there's no God means I can't really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That's good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around.
Believing there's no God stops me from being solipsistic. I can read ideas from all different people from all different cultures. Without God, we can agree on reality, and I can keep learning where I'm wrong. We can all keep adjusting, so we can really communicate. I don't travel in circles where people say, "I have faith, I believe this in my heart and nothing you can say or do can shake my faith." That's just a long-winded religious way to say, "shut up," or another two words that the FCC likes less. But all obscenity is less insulting than, "How I was brought up and my imaginary friend means more to me than anything you can ever say or do." So, believing there is no God lets me be proven wrong and that's always fun. It means I'm learning something.
Believing there is no God means the suffering I've seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn't caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn't bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future.
Believing there is no God gives me more room for belief in family, people, love, truth, beauty, sex, Jell-O and all the other things I can prove and that make this life the best life I will ever have."
As a Christian, do I fall into some of these stereotypes that he mentions? How would I respond to the argument he is proposing? Do I fall into a judgemental bubble? Do I still have fun? Can I still learn and grow? Do I ostracize myself? Do I just stick to rigid rules of thought for no good reason? Why do I believe what I believe? How do I defend myself in the face of such persuasive arguments for the contrary? I know that my faith is real, but do I allow myself to be honest and human at the same time? Why do Christians have such a hard time being genuine?
Read it. Think.
"I believe that there is no God. I'm beyond atheism. Atheism is not believing in God. Not believing in God is easy -- you can't prove a negative, so there's no work to do. You can't prove that there isn't an elephant inside the trunk of my car. You sure? How about now? Maybe he was just hiding before. Check again. Did I mention that my personal heartfelt definition of the word "elephant" includes mystery, order, goodness, love and a spare tire?
So, anyone with a love for truth outside of herself has to start with no belief in God and then look for evidence of God. She needs to search for some objective evidence of a supernatural power. All the people I write e-mails to often are still stuck at this searching stage. The atheism part is easy.
But, this "This I Believe" thing seems to demand something more personal, some leap of faith that helps one see life's big picture, some rules to live by. So, I'm saying, "This I believe: I believe there is no God."
Having taken that step, it informs every moment of my life. I'm not greedy. I have love, blue skies, rainbows and Hallmark cards, and that has to be enough. It has to be enough, but it's everything in the world and everything in the world is plenty for me. It seems just rude to beg the invisible for more. Just the love of my family that raised me and the family I'm raising now is enough that I don't need heaven. I won the huge genetic lottery and I get joy every day.
Believing there's no God means I can't really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That's good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around.
Believing there's no God stops me from being solipsistic. I can read ideas from all different people from all different cultures. Without God, we can agree on reality, and I can keep learning where I'm wrong. We can all keep adjusting, so we can really communicate. I don't travel in circles where people say, "I have faith, I believe this in my heart and nothing you can say or do can shake my faith." That's just a long-winded religious way to say, "shut up," or another two words that the FCC likes less. But all obscenity is less insulting than, "How I was brought up and my imaginary friend means more to me than anything you can ever say or do." So, believing there is no God lets me be proven wrong and that's always fun. It means I'm learning something.
Believing there is no God means the suffering I've seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn't caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn't bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future.
Believing there is no God gives me more room for belief in family, people, love, truth, beauty, sex, Jell-O and all the other things I can prove and that make this life the best life I will ever have."
Monday, April 5, 2010
A Wish
Dandelion chains
Dangled and tied
Delicate flowers
Knotted and white
Close your eyes
Whisper a wish
Watch them wisp
Away in the wind
Dangled and tied
Delicate flowers
Knotted and white
Close your eyes
Whisper a wish
Watch them wisp
Away in the wind
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Favorites
"The LORD your God is testing you to find out whether you love him with all your heart and with all your soul. It is the LORD your God you must follow, and him you must revere. Keep his commands and obey him; serve him and hold fast to him.”
“The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”
"For you bless the righteous, Oh Lord, you cover him with favor as with a shield."
"My shield is with God, who saves the upright in heart."
"When I said, "My foot is slipping," your love, O LORD, supported me.When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul."
"Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her."
"I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."
“The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”
"For you bless the righteous, Oh Lord, you cover him with favor as with a shield."
"My shield is with God, who saves the upright in heart."
"When I said, "My foot is slipping," your love, O LORD, supported me.When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul."
"Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her."
"I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."
Monday, March 29, 2010
La Figlia che Piange (The Weeping Girl)
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair-
Lean on the garden urn-
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair
Clasp your flowers to you with pained surprise-
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.
So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and grieve
So he would have left
As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,
As the mind deserts the body it has used.
I should find
Some way incomparably light and deft
Some way we both would understand,
Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand
She turned away, but with the autumn weather
Compelled my imagination many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers
And I wonder how they should have been together!
I should have lost a gesture and a pose
Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.
--T.S. Eliot
Lean on the garden urn-
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair
Clasp your flowers to you with pained surprise-
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.
So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and grieve
So he would have left
As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,
As the mind deserts the body it has used.
I should find
Some way incomparably light and deft
Some way we both would understand,
Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand
She turned away, but with the autumn weather
Compelled my imagination many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers
And I wonder how they should have been together!
I should have lost a gesture and a pose
Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.
--T.S. Eliot
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Vulnerable
Out of brokenness.
Cracked concrete now a canvas—
A new bud soon blooms.
But even spring brings harsh rains—
New buds are the first to break.
-Turell Peshek
Cracked concrete now a canvas—
A new bud soon blooms.
But even spring brings harsh rains—
New buds are the first to break.
-Turell Peshek
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Loneliness...
"Like fatigue, like hunger, loneliness is part of being human. Fatigue is cured by sleep and hunger by eating, but how do we handle loneliness? It's our very nature to seek an alter ego, a heart that responds to our human ache for understanding.
Our favorite women of the Bible were no strangers to periods of aloneness, which, interestingly, often presaged important events: Mary, during her pregnancy; Ruth, bereaved in Moab; Esther, in a pagan harem; Hannah, childless for years in a culture where barrenness was a disgrace.
In his crowded adult life, there were times when Jesus chose to be alone, deliberately making himself unavailable so that he might nourish his soul in communion with his Father. He experienced both isolation and alienation. His query to his disciples when the fawning crowds drifted off, "Will you also go away?" and his Gethsemane "Watch with me"--these are lonely words.
Yet even Jesus did not use his relationship with God as a substitute for human companionship. He found sustenance with his three closest disciples--Peter, James and John--and in the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus.
But even the most congenial marriage, the closest friendship, the most satisfying child-parent relationship is both transient and unpredictable. Although some 1,500 years have passed since St. Augustine remarked that "our hearts will never be at rest away from the One who made them," it's still true.
Just because he has created us as unique individuals, our Father knows the best way to fill each one's empty places. It is only God who can fill our deepest longings, who never has an appointment elsewhere, who never replaces us with someone he likes better, who promises never to leave us totally alone. He is the only one who wants to be and always can be the unfailing companion on our journey."
Luke 5:12-16; I Kings 19:1-10; Psalm 27:7-10
Our favorite women of the Bible were no strangers to periods of aloneness, which, interestingly, often presaged important events: Mary, during her pregnancy; Ruth, bereaved in Moab; Esther, in a pagan harem; Hannah, childless for years in a culture where barrenness was a disgrace.
In his crowded adult life, there were times when Jesus chose to be alone, deliberately making himself unavailable so that he might nourish his soul in communion with his Father. He experienced both isolation and alienation. His query to his disciples when the fawning crowds drifted off, "Will you also go away?" and his Gethsemane "Watch with me"--these are lonely words.
Yet even Jesus did not use his relationship with God as a substitute for human companionship. He found sustenance with his three closest disciples--Peter, James and John--and in the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus.
But even the most congenial marriage, the closest friendship, the most satisfying child-parent relationship is both transient and unpredictable. Although some 1,500 years have passed since St. Augustine remarked that "our hearts will never be at rest away from the One who made them," it's still true.
Just because he has created us as unique individuals, our Father knows the best way to fill each one's empty places. It is only God who can fill our deepest longings, who never has an appointment elsewhere, who never replaces us with someone he likes better, who promises never to leave us totally alone. He is the only one who wants to be and always can be the unfailing companion on our journey."
Luke 5:12-16; I Kings 19:1-10; Psalm 27:7-10
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Bound to Love
"In the case of women, they have a strange and strong loyalty. Some stupid people started the idea that because women obviously back up their loved ones through everything, therefore women are blind and do not see anything. They can hardly have known any women.. The same women who are ready to defend their men through thick and thin are almost morbidly lucid about the thinness of his excuses or the thickness of his head. A man's friend likes him but leaves him as he is: his wife loves him and is always trying to change him, help him. Love is not blind, that is the last thing it is. Love is bound: and the more it is bound, the less it is blind."
--G.K. Chesterton's "Orthodoxy"
Why is that? Where does our sense of undying loyalty come from? Is it helpful or harmful?
Love is beautiful. And to be bound to someone is something my heart longs for. But I find myself often unable to face the bad parts of love, to stand up against it. I am loyal, faithful, forgiving. I am bound to love. I am not blind to its flaws, but I am bound. Is that the way it should be?
--G.K. Chesterton's "Orthodoxy"
Why is that? Where does our sense of undying loyalty come from? Is it helpful or harmful?
Love is beautiful. And to be bound to someone is something my heart longs for. But I find myself often unable to face the bad parts of love, to stand up against it. I am loyal, faithful, forgiving. I am bound to love. I am not blind to its flaws, but I am bound. Is that the way it should be?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Adventures
Strike out on an adventure. Leave behind the worries, the stresses, the homework, the bills. Leave the house, the boy, the pressure. Leave the time frame. Leave it all behind. Take your car keys and some CD's to sing along to. Take a Dr. Pepper or two, a bag of Doritos, the Oreos. Take the camera, take your journal. Take sunglasses and cherry lip balm. There's so many things to see, things to experience.
Mountain roads curving in green hills.
Small towns tucked in valleys.
Cliffs dropping off endlessly into ocean.
Book lofts. Antique stores. Coffee shops.
Pine trees, oak trees, palm trees.
Orange poppies, purple primrose, yellow daisies.
Meadows, forests, mountains, cliffs.
Drive or hike or meander or bike.
Go on an adventure. Just do it. The world is brimming with beauty. You never know what you'll see when you go around the next corner. There is water in different shades of blue. Trees of different sizes. Breezes with different tangs. Get out of the city and look at the stars. Get out of the rush and go skip some rocks. Walk upstream in a cold river, explore the streets of a historic town, push boulders off of cliffs, drive up the coast. Marvel at the beauty of God's creation...it's His masterpiece. He made it just for us, you know.
Mountain roads curving in green hills.
Small towns tucked in valleys.
Cliffs dropping off endlessly into ocean.
Book lofts. Antique stores. Coffee shops.
Pine trees, oak trees, palm trees.
Orange poppies, purple primrose, yellow daisies.
Meadows, forests, mountains, cliffs.
Drive or hike or meander or bike.
Go on an adventure. Just do it. The world is brimming with beauty. You never know what you'll see when you go around the next corner. There is water in different shades of blue. Trees of different sizes. Breezes with different tangs. Get out of the city and look at the stars. Get out of the rush and go skip some rocks. Walk upstream in a cold river, explore the streets of a historic town, push boulders off of cliffs, drive up the coast. Marvel at the beauty of God's creation...it's His masterpiece. He made it just for us, you know.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Jeremiah 17:7-8
“But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Run Away With Me
I ran away to the sea
No one came with me
The day dawned young,
Fresh. Chilled. Bright.
Across open sweep of sky
Blue stretches out of sight
Breezes breathe, seagulls squall
A red scarf wraps my hair.
The air hangs heavy, full of salt
My feet are brown and bare.
A kite winks colorful above
Stolen by the wind
Cragged rocks tower tall
Waves swill 'round jagged ends
Halfway buried in the sand
With warm rays of champagne sun
Safe from foamy flecks I sit
All alone, no one's come
I watch the waves roll in and out
A pattern endlessly listless.
On the brink,the edge of the world
I am wistful or peaceful or restless
I ran away to the sea
Won't you come and find me
No one came with me
The day dawned young,
Fresh. Chilled. Bright.
Across open sweep of sky
Blue stretches out of sight
Breezes breathe, seagulls squall
A red scarf wraps my hair.
The air hangs heavy, full of salt
My feet are brown and bare.
A kite winks colorful above
Stolen by the wind
Cragged rocks tower tall
Waves swill 'round jagged ends
Halfway buried in the sand
With warm rays of champagne sun
Safe from foamy flecks I sit
All alone, no one's come
I watch the waves roll in and out
A pattern endlessly listless.
On the brink,the edge of the world
I am wistful or peaceful or restless
I ran away to the sea
Won't you come and find me
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
This is for you Shelby!
LORELAI: All right then. Relax. Be calm. Everything will be fine.
RORY: Okay.
LORELAI: I gotta go. Can I ask you one more question? Do you think my hair looks cool?
RORY: Bye.
LORELAI: 'Cause, you know, some days I wake up and I'm like, cool. Some days I'm like, could be cooler.
RORY: I won't wait up for you.
LORELAI: Like today I got up and I was like, left side cool, right side not so cool.
RORY: Bye.
LORELAI: Bye.
RORY: Okay.
LORELAI: I gotta go. Can I ask you one more question? Do you think my hair looks cool?
RORY: Bye.
LORELAI: 'Cause, you know, some days I wake up and I'm like, cool. Some days I'm like, could be cooler.
RORY: I won't wait up for you.
LORELAI: Like today I got up and I was like, left side cool, right side not so cool.
RORY: Bye.
LORELAI: Bye.
Proverbs 31 Woman
A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
She gets up while it is still dark;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her servant girls.
She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
"Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
She gets up while it is still dark;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her servant girls.
She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
"Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Oh How I Love Jane Eyre...
This is the part when Jane has just left Mr. Rochester. She has run away from the love of her life. She is heartbroken, alone, completely penniless and is sleeping under a tree. And this is her heart:
"Worn out from the torture of thought, I rose to my knees. Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night: too serene for the companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale before us; and it is in the unclouded night sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence.
I had risen to my knees to pray for Mr. Rochester. Looking up, I, with tear-dimmed eyes, saw the mighty Milky Way. Remembering what it was--what countless systems there swept space like a soft trace of light-- I felt the might and strength of God. Sure was I of His efficiency to save what He had made: convinced I grew that neither earth should perish, nor one of the souls it treasured. I turned my prayer to thanksgiving: the Source of Life was also the Savior of spirits. Mr Rochester was safe: he was God's, and by God would he be guarded. I again nestled to the breast of the hill; and ere long in sleep forgot sorrow."
Such an artlessly good and grateful perspective. God is God and we are not. We should be grateful that He's got all in control, He is God so He is so capable of guarding us and taking care of us.
I never realized how much Jane Eyre is a look into the peace, provision, joy, will, and blessings of a beautiful God.
"Worn out from the torture of thought, I rose to my knees. Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night: too serene for the companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale before us; and it is in the unclouded night sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence.
I had risen to my knees to pray for Mr. Rochester. Looking up, I, with tear-dimmed eyes, saw the mighty Milky Way. Remembering what it was--what countless systems there swept space like a soft trace of light-- I felt the might and strength of God. Sure was I of His efficiency to save what He had made: convinced I grew that neither earth should perish, nor one of the souls it treasured. I turned my prayer to thanksgiving: the Source of Life was also the Savior of spirits. Mr Rochester was safe: he was God's, and by God would he be guarded. I again nestled to the breast of the hill; and ere long in sleep forgot sorrow."
Such an artlessly good and grateful perspective. God is God and we are not. We should be grateful that He's got all in control, He is God so He is so capable of guarding us and taking care of us.
I never realized how much Jane Eyre is a look into the peace, provision, joy, will, and blessings of a beautiful God.
Far Away
I will live my life as a lobsterman's wife on an island in the blue bay.
He will take care of me, he will smell like the sea,
And close to my heart he'll always stay.
I will bear three girls all with strawberry curls, little Ella and
Nelly and Faye.
While I'm combing their hair, I will catch his warm stare
On our island in the blue bay.
Far away far away, I want to go far away.
To a new life on a new shore line.
Where the water is blue and the people are new.
To another island, in another life.
There's a boy next to me and he never will be anything but a boy at the bar.
And I think he's the tops, he's where everything stops.
How I love to love him from afar.
When he walks right pass me then I finally see on this bar stool I can't stay.
So I'm taking my frown to a far distant town
On an island in the blue bay.
Far away far away, I want to go far away.
To a new life on a new shore line.
Where the water is blue and the people are new.
To another island, in another life.
I want to go far away.
Away away, I want to go far away, away, away
I want to go far away, far away.
Where the water is blue and the people are new.
To another life, to another life.
To another shore line
In another life.
--Ingrid Michaelson
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Elizabeth's new take on love in "Pride and Prejudice"
(Elizabeth): "She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feelings; and it was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced.
But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude. -- Gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection.
She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him; she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on the renewal of his addresses."
--Elizabeth's change of heart in Pride and Prejudice (I love this!)
But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude. -- Gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection.
She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him; she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on the renewal of his addresses."
--Elizabeth's change of heart in Pride and Prejudice (I love this!)
Vanilla Twilight
The stars lean down to kiss you
And I lie awake and miss you
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere
'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly
But I'll miss your arms around me
I'd send a postcard to you, dear
'Cause I wish you were here
I'll watch the night turn light-blue
But it's not the same without you
Because it takes two to whisper quietly
The silence isn't so bad
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad
'Cause the spaces between my fingers
Are right where yours fit perfectly
I'll find repose in new ways
Though I haven't slept in two days
'Cause cold nostalgia
Chills me to the bone
But drenched in vanilla twilight
I'll sit on the front porch all night
Waist-deep in thought because
When I think of you I don't feel so alone
I don't feel so alone, I don't feel so alone
As many times as I blink
I'll think of you tonight
I'll think of you tonight
When violet eyes get brighter
And heavy wings grow lighter
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again
And I'll forget the world that I knew
But I swear I won't forget you
Oh, if my voice could reach
Back through the past
I'd whisper in your ear
Oh darling, I wish you were here
--Owl City
And I lie awake and miss you
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere
'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly
But I'll miss your arms around me
I'd send a postcard to you, dear
'Cause I wish you were here
I'll watch the night turn light-blue
But it's not the same without you
Because it takes two to whisper quietly
The silence isn't so bad
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad
'Cause the spaces between my fingers
Are right where yours fit perfectly
I'll find repose in new ways
Though I haven't slept in two days
'Cause cold nostalgia
Chills me to the bone
But drenched in vanilla twilight
I'll sit on the front porch all night
Waist-deep in thought because
When I think of you I don't feel so alone
I don't feel so alone, I don't feel so alone
As many times as I blink
I'll think of you tonight
I'll think of you tonight
When violet eyes get brighter
And heavy wings grow lighter
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again
And I'll forget the world that I knew
But I swear I won't forget you
Oh, if my voice could reach
Back through the past
I'd whisper in your ear
Oh darling, I wish you were here
--Owl City
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
About Critical Theory
"Deconstruction is inadequate because it has no way of talking sensibly about the meaning of indisputable human verities such as birth, life, love, and death. There are all sorts of things, obviously, which are social constructs, dependent upon the accidents of history, upon the manipulations of the powerful, upon the differences between genders, classes, and races. Literature may indeed fall into this category, but this does not mean that everything that literature describes, like death, does, too. You can't deconstruct death. Christian readers, by contrast, no matter how critical they may be, are, with at least one part of their being, attuned to meaning, and, when faced with death, they understand (and speak) the language of hope.
I would suggest, then, that we must recover in our scholarship and teaching of literature a greater degree of innocence. We must recapture some of the child-like wonder, which, one would guess, even the most jaded critic once had in the power and pleasure of words. Much of what we enjoy most in literature does lies right at the surface: the narrative thread (what's going to happen next?), the sound of the language, and the author's message. What is he or she trying to say to me or us? This last (now unfashionable) question presupposes a sort of submission on the part of the reader, a willingness to take a leap of imaginative faith that transcends the distance, temporal, geographical, and cultural, that may separate us from the author, a loving forbearance of an author who may indeed be of a different sex, or of a different time, or of a different political mindset, and a preliminary assumption that the author has something he or she wishes to say to us, on which it is the reader's duty and delight to put the best construction. Such a position does not simply replicate the traditional "humanist" confidence in human reason and "reasonability" as the basis for communication, but instead views language as an effectual activity grounded in God's love, in which humans, made in the image of God, may joyfully participate--or, which, like any other aspect of God's grace, we may disparage, manipulate, and reject. We should, then, in our study of literature, be amateurs in the strict sense of the word. Love is God's motive for communicating with humans, and it is also the backdrop for all Christian interrelations, including the way we respond to and ourselves use word.
--The Hermeneutics of Innocence: Literary Criticism from a Christian Perspective
by Carl P.E. Springer PhD
I just wanted to save this thought. I like the idea of approaching literature with innocence, with hope, and with love...words are His gift to us!
I would suggest, then, that we must recover in our scholarship and teaching of literature a greater degree of innocence. We must recapture some of the child-like wonder, which, one would guess, even the most jaded critic once had in the power and pleasure of words. Much of what we enjoy most in literature does lies right at the surface: the narrative thread (what's going to happen next?), the sound of the language, and the author's message. What is he or she trying to say to me or us? This last (now unfashionable) question presupposes a sort of submission on the part of the reader, a willingness to take a leap of imaginative faith that transcends the distance, temporal, geographical, and cultural, that may separate us from the author, a loving forbearance of an author who may indeed be of a different sex, or of a different time, or of a different political mindset, and a preliminary assumption that the author has something he or she wishes to say to us, on which it is the reader's duty and delight to put the best construction. Such a position does not simply replicate the traditional "humanist" confidence in human reason and "reasonability" as the basis for communication, but instead views language as an effectual activity grounded in God's love, in which humans, made in the image of God, may joyfully participate--or, which, like any other aspect of God's grace, we may disparage, manipulate, and reject. We should, then, in our study of literature, be amateurs in the strict sense of the word. Love is God's motive for communicating with humans, and it is also the backdrop for all Christian interrelations, including the way we respond to and ourselves use word.
--The Hermeneutics of Innocence: Literary Criticism from a Christian Perspective
by Carl P.E. Springer PhD
I just wanted to save this thought. I like the idea of approaching literature with innocence, with hope, and with love...words are His gift to us!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
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