I'm at my aunt and uncle's house in the country this week. It's an absolutely gorgeous house filled with antiques and my aunt's art works. It's pretty much a vacation. Located on about 10 acres with a pond and weeping willows and garden after garden, it's also home to some goats (for goats milk) and chickens, and several dogs and cats. Let me lay this out there, I pretty much hate chickens. I like eggs and fried chicken and any chicken dish you can imagine. I detest, nay, loathe, live chickens.
Far be it from me to disturb any chicken for fear they might claw my eyes out. Yet disturb I had to otherwise the mean ol' fox in the field might eat them or that chops-licken' raccoon down by the pond. So being the good niece that I am and fulfilling my house-sitting/farmhand responsibilities I headed back out to the barn to round me up some chickens. I would have left them alone to sleep (or die) in peace (unless they're dying) but no, cousin Josh thought it most imperative that the chicken coop contain all chickens. Forget that I might get my eyes CLAWED OUT! Forget that I might never get to see again! Forget that no chicken is important enough to risk physical harm! Nope, come hell or high-water, them chickens was going in th'coop.
Armed with nothing but my trusty dog Murphy (chuckle, yeah, not feeling the whole trusty part with a name like Murphy, but you never know) and a huge dose of courage, I strutted into that barn like a Banty rooster, sized up a hen, and squinting through my right eye (hey, if I'm going to lose them to a flippin' chicken, I'm not going down with eyes wide open), I reached out and hoped for the best. Well, if hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, I'd hate to see what the analogy is for a disgruntled layer. That hen let loose like her tail was on fire. Feathers flew, hay flew, and squawking like you've never heard before. You would have thought I was chasing her with a frying pan the way she let off.
Chickens 1, Sarah 0
There were 3 hens left on the fence so I gathered my wits and headed for the second one. By the way, Murphy, my fearless companion, yeah, not so fearless. He was huddled behind some hay bales watching me with an amused expression on his black curly face as if to say, "well, I never said I'd help!" And the goats! Oh those Alpines, I knew they were mocking me! They were all lined up in a row to watch the action. I'm surprised the peacocks weren't around hooting and hollering. Well, it's better than having a human audience..... I think.
The next chicken snatching fared as well as the first, only this time all the chickens left the fence and scattered throughout the barn. Great, now my chicken record's as good as my P-I-G record against my 11 year old brother! Just then my little eye spied some other, more sleepy looking, victims in the goat pen. At this point I was bound and determined that at least one chicken was going to get in that coop if it was the last thing I did. So I snuck into that goat pen, along the wall, and over to the corner where my last chances at redemption dozed peacefully (or so I thought). If I had snuck up behind them and set of a fog-horn it wouldn't have been any different. This time I held on longer and did my best to secure that blasted chicken in the crook of my arm (apparently that's what you're supposed to do). But apparently the tighter you cling to that chicken, the more frantic it becomes, and this time ALL the chickens outside of the coop, along with the one previously held in my arms, ran either all through the barn or outside into the night. And Murphy chased them. And I stood there, wounded and dejected. And the goats laughed.
Apparently herding chickens doesn't work as well. Tomorrow night, if that chicken doesn't make it's coop-curfew, well, say hello to Mr. Fox and Mr. Raccoon, they've an outstanding invitation to dinner.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Happily mistaken!
Attitudes are not to be relied upon. Prayer changes attitudes. Thus prayer is to be relied upon.
Earlier I discussed the matter of my dysfunctional family and our dysfunctional Christmas gathering. Funny thing, before I went to our dysfunctional celebration, I gave it up to Christ and said "Do with it what you will, I, however, will not enter that house bearing anything but a Christ-like attitude and mentality." Turns out it was one of the best, if not the best family Christmas gathering I have ever attended. It was hard to enter the house with my "I love my family because Christ loves my family" mentality but as I had given it over to the Lord already I washed my hands of the whole matter and decided to celebrate at any costs. (thanks to some orange juice and champagne, it was a heck of a lot easier than I thought! .... ok, kidding, really. (well, not tooo "really." but yeah, nevermind))
Also as it turns out, my uncle has a 1959 Austin Healey "Bugeyed" Sprite. You can imagine how we got along after I told him about my 1976 MG-B! If I bought that car just for the look and appreciation on my uncle's face for that one day, it was worth it. He was literally stunned out of his socks and throughout the entire time, my uncle, my esteemed uncle, sought me out to talk about cars. He even volunteered to wash and wax it if I brought it over. He's so excited to go to Mid-Ohio Vintage car races with our cars (tee hee, this is so great) and... well, I just can't get over how surprised and excited he was. Plus he let me ride in the Sprite with my cousin Michael at the helm, who had never even driven the car before. My cousin Michael and I have never spoken more than ohh... 5 sentences between ourselves and Saturday, we chatted the whole afternoon! Talked about his new restaurant, his wife's car, talked about motorcycles, OSU, you name it. As for my aunts... well, next time I'll bring some exotic dish and we can talk about cooking and decorating and such. Anyway, the power of prayer is not to be underestimated. (and if you have a spare vintage car handy, that helps too).
Earlier I discussed the matter of my dysfunctional family and our dysfunctional Christmas gathering. Funny thing, before I went to our dysfunctional celebration, I gave it up to Christ and said "Do with it what you will, I, however, will not enter that house bearing anything but a Christ-like attitude and mentality." Turns out it was one of the best, if not the best family Christmas gathering I have ever attended. It was hard to enter the house with my "I love my family because Christ loves my family" mentality but as I had given it over to the Lord already I washed my hands of the whole matter and decided to celebrate at any costs. (thanks to some orange juice and champagne, it was a heck of a lot easier than I thought! .... ok, kidding, really. (well, not tooo "really." but yeah, nevermind))
Also as it turns out, my uncle has a 1959 Austin Healey "Bugeyed" Sprite. You can imagine how we got along after I told him about my 1976 MG-B! If I bought that car just for the look and appreciation on my uncle's face for that one day, it was worth it. He was literally stunned out of his socks and throughout the entire time, my uncle, my esteemed uncle, sought me out to talk about cars. He even volunteered to wash and wax it if I brought it over. He's so excited to go to Mid-Ohio Vintage car races with our cars (tee hee, this is so great) and... well, I just can't get over how surprised and excited he was. Plus he let me ride in the Sprite with my cousin Michael at the helm, who had never even driven the car before. My cousin Michael and I have never spoken more than ohh... 5 sentences between ourselves and Saturday, we chatted the whole afternoon! Talked about his new restaurant, his wife's car, talked about motorcycles, OSU, you name it. As for my aunts... well, next time I'll bring some exotic dish and we can talk about cooking and decorating and such. Anyway, the power of prayer is not to be underestimated. (and if you have a spare vintage car handy, that helps too).
Thursday, December 14, 2006
So much for being a "British" car.
So I'm ranting and as soon as I post this, it will (ok, might) be over. But still....
http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-chickasaw10dec10,0,7483753.story?page=1
So I'll finally get the "new" MGF and maybe the MGR but that's not the point. Point is: I don't care that they made MGs in the U.S 30 years ago, I care that now we can no longer call it a British car. It's like making tea in China and then moving the factory to South America with African investors and calling it "Chinese Tea." Or making Belgian chocolates and then moving the entire factory over to....Afghanistan and merging with Mongolian investors and calling the chocolate, "Belgian Chocolate." The recipe may still be the same but HELLO, it's no longer true Chinese tea or Belgian Chocolate. EVERYONE knows you have to go to the original country to get the valid object. *sob* it's just not the same.... *another sob* I don't want everyone else to have the same car.....*pounds the desk* I want to be unique...I want to be original.......What? Yes I'm 23! 5 year old? Excuse me? Tantrum? I beg to differ, it's called being passionate, and yes, the floor of my office is just fine. SO THERE!
And yet another ramification for the Western Expansion. Isn't that just great.
http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-chickasaw10dec10,0,7483753.story?page=1
So I'll finally get the "new" MGF and maybe the MGR but that's not the point. Point is: I don't care that they made MGs in the U.S 30 years ago, I care that now we can no longer call it a British car. It's like making tea in China and then moving the factory to South America with African investors and calling it "Chinese Tea." Or making Belgian chocolates and then moving the entire factory over to....Afghanistan and merging with Mongolian investors and calling the chocolate, "Belgian Chocolate." The recipe may still be the same but HELLO, it's no longer true Chinese tea or Belgian Chocolate. EVERYONE knows you have to go to the original country to get the valid object. *sob* it's just not the same.... *another sob* I don't want everyone else to have the same car.....*pounds the desk* I want to be unique...I want to be original.......What? Yes I'm 23! 5 year old? Excuse me? Tantrum? I beg to differ, it's called being passionate, and yes, the floor of my office is just fine. SO THERE!
And yet another ramification for the Western Expansion. Isn't that just great.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The Solution
Good gracious! So I've been ranting for several posts (2) that I'm never going to go past the "good" emotion to ecstatic or tragic. After talking to a good friend of mine I realized that that's not important. What is important is this: I must make the most of this "good" time that I have. To let it go by without utilizing this peaceful time would be a waste. This is the time to read and delve into the Word. This is the time to fill myself up on the knowledge of Him. If I'm going to be in a "good" time then I'm certainly going to make the most of it.
Solution: For period of "easy times" use every moment and all spare time to "brush up" or explore the heart of God from all aspects and learn as much as possible while I can.
Solution: For period of "easy times" use every moment and all spare time to "brush up" or explore the heart of God from all aspects and learn as much as possible while I can.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Meet me here, dear heart.
Nota Bene: I love most movies. Not all movies but most movies. Not silly chick-flicks or horror/gory movies and not romantic comedies but the movies where deep inside you emotions are affected by the circumstances and characters in that movie. The emotions that the world does not see and you yourself might not know what they are but they are moved. Be it action/adventure, drama, or even comedy. Do not discredit emotions because they might react to a movie. Do not scoff but know this: whoever created that movie and whoever had the idea for that movie knew those emotions you are feeling. That's my take on it. I will be referencing to many a movie character in this post, if you're one to jest and poke fun then this post is not for you to read. Thank you.
It's come to this: I have resigned myself to the knowledge that I will most likely lead a peaceful and harmonious life for the next 60+ years (or longer, depending on if they find that stinkin' Fountain of Youth... gosh Cortez! *chuckle*). For many people that would be a desire met. How many people long for a peaceful life in harmony with the rest of mankind? And I take it for granted. Strife, I do not ask for but possibly tragedy and most definitely adventure and passion. I only ask that I feel. I want to know that I can feel.
I recently took a personality test for church and basically I'm personality-less. Well, not true, but the results came back that I had unclear goals in life and thus my personality at this time cannot be determined. Well, my core personality that is, my outer mask is one of "Adviser." Whoopdy Doo. It's true though, I do have unclear goals. In fact, I wonder if my goals (other than loving and following my Lord which is definitely the prime goal of my life) even exist. I would even go so far as to say that in lieu of the fact I do not have any goals that in and of itself is a reflection of the lack of emotion within me. Follow? Right, probably not, but pretend you do.
Point is: Am I never to experience a Great Adventure and a real passion for something? (Before I go to far, realize that I'm not asking for tragedy and a harsh life, just adventure and passion and not passion as the world would think) I used to think that I was a mistake. Not a pregnancy mistake but that God is preparing for the Rapture and realized that little curly-haired me still had yet to grace the Earth with her presence (that's right, grace you all with my wonderful presence...yup, you heard me) and so he threw me in right quick before the end times. Now I know those are only lies from the enemy of our souls but it's still hard not to wonder why I am here now. Why not 700 years ago? Why not 100 years ago? (nota bene due: Yes, I know how hard it was back then, I happen to know a bit about history so back up off it) Why now? Why in the U.S? Why in Ohio (Well, obviously God is a Buckeye...)
If I am created uniquely to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, and strength, and if I am created the way I am, with these desires for adventure and passion, then is there a reason for this cubicle existence? Point is: Will I ever be rescued like Elizabeth in "Pirates of the Caribbean," and Jessica in "Man from Snowy River"? Will I ever sob like Christian in "Moulin Rouge"? Will there be a daring mission where I am needed? Will I ever risk my life to save another's as Maj. Winters does in "Band of Brothers"? Will I ever really care about something? Am I not focused on the Lord enough? Have I skipped over something basic in Christianity 101? Is it because I live in the U.S? Or is it a matter of faith? It could very well be that I must wait. All that is needed is a promise that yes, I will partake in a great adventure and will know someday what it is to be passionate about something. (I feel a lot better now that I wrote this all down, not so... panicky now)
I love how soundtracks and certain songs pluck at your heartstrings. I've been listening a lot to the "Pirates of the Caribbean" and "Last of the Mohicans" soundtrack along with "Star Wars," "Man from Snowy River," "Rhapsody in Blue," and "Saving Private Ryan." Throw in some more instrumental soundtracks and my heart is all over the place. Then I start looking over pictures of England and France and next thing you know, I"m thinking "Ok Lord, what about the part where I'm supposed to be a young Lady Wakefield cantering all over the countryside?" Oh yeah, and "Lord... what the heck am I doing in Ohio? Shouldn't I be winning cross-country event or travelling around on a small yacht, living off the ocean? What about the part where I help find a historical treasure? Remember that life I'm supposed to save in that foreign land? What about where I'm sitting on the patio of a small villa overlooking the clear waters of an Alpine lake?..... Um, Lord...?"
And that's what starts a post like this one.
It's come to this: I have resigned myself to the knowledge that I will most likely lead a peaceful and harmonious life for the next 60+ years (or longer, depending on if they find that stinkin' Fountain of Youth... gosh Cortez! *chuckle*). For many people that would be a desire met. How many people long for a peaceful life in harmony with the rest of mankind? And I take it for granted. Strife, I do not ask for but possibly tragedy and most definitely adventure and passion. I only ask that I feel. I want to know that I can feel.
I recently took a personality test for church and basically I'm personality-less. Well, not true, but the results came back that I had unclear goals in life and thus my personality at this time cannot be determined. Well, my core personality that is, my outer mask is one of "Adviser." Whoopdy Doo. It's true though, I do have unclear goals. In fact, I wonder if my goals (other than loving and following my Lord which is definitely the prime goal of my life) even exist. I would even go so far as to say that in lieu of the fact I do not have any goals that in and of itself is a reflection of the lack of emotion within me. Follow? Right, probably not, but pretend you do.
Point is: Am I never to experience a Great Adventure and a real passion for something? (Before I go to far, realize that I'm not asking for tragedy and a harsh life, just adventure and passion and not passion as the world would think) I used to think that I was a mistake. Not a pregnancy mistake but that God is preparing for the Rapture and realized that little curly-haired me still had yet to grace the Earth with her presence (that's right, grace you all with my wonderful presence...yup, you heard me) and so he threw me in right quick before the end times. Now I know those are only lies from the enemy of our souls but it's still hard not to wonder why I am here now. Why not 700 years ago? Why not 100 years ago? (nota bene due: Yes, I know how hard it was back then, I happen to know a bit about history so back up off it) Why now? Why in the U.S? Why in Ohio (Well, obviously God is a Buckeye...)
If I am created uniquely to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, and strength, and if I am created the way I am, with these desires for adventure and passion, then is there a reason for this cubicle existence? Point is: Will I ever be rescued like Elizabeth in "Pirates of the Caribbean," and Jessica in "Man from Snowy River"? Will I ever sob like Christian in "Moulin Rouge"? Will there be a daring mission where I am needed? Will I ever risk my life to save another's as Maj. Winters does in "Band of Brothers"? Will I ever really care about something? Am I not focused on the Lord enough? Have I skipped over something basic in Christianity 101? Is it because I live in the U.S? Or is it a matter of faith? It could very well be that I must wait. All that is needed is a promise that yes, I will partake in a great adventure and will know someday what it is to be passionate about something. (I feel a lot better now that I wrote this all down, not so... panicky now)
I love how soundtracks and certain songs pluck at your heartstrings. I've been listening a lot to the "Pirates of the Caribbean" and "Last of the Mohicans" soundtrack along with "Star Wars," "Man from Snowy River," "Rhapsody in Blue," and "Saving Private Ryan." Throw in some more instrumental soundtracks and my heart is all over the place. Then I start looking over pictures of England and France and next thing you know, I"m thinking "Ok Lord, what about the part where I'm supposed to be a young Lady Wakefield cantering all over the countryside?" Oh yeah, and "Lord... what the heck am I doing in Ohio? Shouldn't I be winning cross-country event or travelling around on a small yacht, living off the ocean? What about the part where I help find a historical treasure? Remember that life I'm supposed to save in that foreign land? What about where I'm sitting on the patio of a small villa overlooking the clear waters of an Alpine lake?..... Um, Lord...?"
And that's what starts a post like this one.
Monday, December 11, 2006
The Agony of Earth
Do you ever watch a movie and it so stirs you that you cannot watch it again for several months?
I do. I’ll watch a movie and it will break my heart in a way that I cannot express. The girl deep inside of me will cry out and say, “That’s supposed to be me!” It’s a very rare movie that will have that effect on me but when it happens, it’s a most severe stab to the heart. There is never a greater blow to the heart than the one that affects the soul. The girl that I really am, the perfect girl inside who I really would be without the Fall, cries out because she knows that character. She says, “Yes, that is me, that is who I should have been!” Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m now and I am who I am because that is who I've been created to be but the Fall’s effects are still being felt. Wouldn’t we all be different (drastically) had the Fall never happened? I digress. The point is not the Fall but the person you are deep within that has remained unaffected by the Fall and that is your true person, your Name.
Recall that in heaven we will all be given our True name. I maintain that there is part of me that knows my True name and when it comes across examples of it in this world, my soul leaps out with that recognition. When that happens I am not sure of how I should handle it. I just know that I cannot go near whatever it was that my soul knew because of the heartbreak that ensues. The object that my soul recognizes as part of my Name nearly pierces my soul and that area is so tender that to go near it again would only cause more heartbreak. Certain music, books, movies, and interactions cause that injury. The injury, besides being composed of heart-wrenching pain, also feels like a kick to the stomach. The days after said event usually are filled with a certain amount of grief, despair, and a touch of depression. My heart, interestingly enough, does feel a great amount of joy in the recognition of a part of its Name but the aftertaste of reality sets in not soon after.
Heaven will be that Name. I’ve no doubt now that Heaven will be that which fulfills my soul’s thirst for a Name. If ever I wanted to be a character in a movie, the agony that my soul feels by that desire will be met by Heaven. That is where I will be whole, that is where I will be my Name, I will be the true Sarah.
John Eldredge’s book Wild at Heart, which should be read by every human, talks in great detail about the moments here on Earth that are glimpses of heaven and our true Names. Nostalgia is a great example, i.e. “The Good Ol’ Days,” another example would be when hiking out in the countryside and the view just takes your breath away. Music and lyrics that “speak” to you, books where your soul says, “Yes, I know that! Art, be it in any form, that causes your heart to ache even just a bit are tastes of what Heaven will be. Heaven is not The Land of Fulfillment of our every “worldly” desire nor is it the land of eternal harp playing (or attempting, for some of us). If our soul reacts towards those particular moments here on Earth when it recognizes its true name, can we not acknowledge that He Who created us will not deny us our true identity when we are reunited with Him? Would the Bridegroom deny anything His Bride? If He surrendered His very life so that we might be reunited with Him for eternity, if He has gone through those great lengths even to death, to save us, do you honestly believe He would relegate us to anything less than complete unity with our Truthful names?
That is what my soul must realize in order to continue on past the brutal agony when it cannot be joined with its Name in this life. The pain is much to “personal” to bear without the promise of eternity as my Name. The simple things that speak to my soul i.e. the desire to be the beauty to be rescued, the desire to share in a great adventure, and the desire to be desired, are just too great to be ignored. Yet I cannot help but resign myself to the knowledge that those desires will not be met during my time on this Earth. Those desires were created for a reason, they are there because they are who I am, but they will not be met now. And that is why my hope rests in He Who created me. Those are the treasures I look forward to, nay, desperately look forward to, enjoying.
I do. I’ll watch a movie and it will break my heart in a way that I cannot express. The girl deep inside of me will cry out and say, “That’s supposed to be me!” It’s a very rare movie that will have that effect on me but when it happens, it’s a most severe stab to the heart. There is never a greater blow to the heart than the one that affects the soul. The girl that I really am, the perfect girl inside who I really would be without the Fall, cries out because she knows that character. She says, “Yes, that is me, that is who I should have been!” Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m now and I am who I am because that is who I've been created to be but the Fall’s effects are still being felt. Wouldn’t we all be different (drastically) had the Fall never happened? I digress. The point is not the Fall but the person you are deep within that has remained unaffected by the Fall and that is your true person, your Name.
Recall that in heaven we will all be given our True name. I maintain that there is part of me that knows my True name and when it comes across examples of it in this world, my soul leaps out with that recognition. When that happens I am not sure of how I should handle it. I just know that I cannot go near whatever it was that my soul knew because of the heartbreak that ensues. The object that my soul recognizes as part of my Name nearly pierces my soul and that area is so tender that to go near it again would only cause more heartbreak. Certain music, books, movies, and interactions cause that injury. The injury, besides being composed of heart-wrenching pain, also feels like a kick to the stomach. The days after said event usually are filled with a certain amount of grief, despair, and a touch of depression. My heart, interestingly enough, does feel a great amount of joy in the recognition of a part of its Name but the aftertaste of reality sets in not soon after.
Heaven will be that Name. I’ve no doubt now that Heaven will be that which fulfills my soul’s thirst for a Name. If ever I wanted to be a character in a movie, the agony that my soul feels by that desire will be met by Heaven. That is where I will be whole, that is where I will be my Name, I will be the true Sarah.
John Eldredge’s book Wild at Heart, which should be read by every human, talks in great detail about the moments here on Earth that are glimpses of heaven and our true Names. Nostalgia is a great example, i.e. “The Good Ol’ Days,” another example would be when hiking out in the countryside and the view just takes your breath away. Music and lyrics that “speak” to you, books where your soul says, “Yes, I know that! Art, be it in any form, that causes your heart to ache even just a bit are tastes of what Heaven will be. Heaven is not The Land of Fulfillment of our every “worldly” desire nor is it the land of eternal harp playing (or attempting, for some of us). If our soul reacts towards those particular moments here on Earth when it recognizes its true name, can we not acknowledge that He Who created us will not deny us our true identity when we are reunited with Him? Would the Bridegroom deny anything His Bride? If He surrendered His very life so that we might be reunited with Him for eternity, if He has gone through those great lengths even to death, to save us, do you honestly believe He would relegate us to anything less than complete unity with our Truthful names?
That is what my soul must realize in order to continue on past the brutal agony when it cannot be joined with its Name in this life. The pain is much to “personal” to bear without the promise of eternity as my Name. The simple things that speak to my soul i.e. the desire to be the beauty to be rescued, the desire to share in a great adventure, and the desire to be desired, are just too great to be ignored. Yet I cannot help but resign myself to the knowledge that those desires will not be met during my time on this Earth. Those desires were created for a reason, they are there because they are who I am, but they will not be met now. And that is why my hope rests in He Who created me. Those are the treasures I look forward to, nay, desperately look forward to, enjoying.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Tidings of NOT joy!
My family spells our last name D-y-s-f-u-n-c-t-i-o-n. That's right, dysfunction. And you know what, it's not just my immediate family, as it turns out my entire family tree on either side all have the same last name! Freaky. Hey, want to invite the Dysfunctions over? Sure, they're always good for amusement. Did you hear about that family that is getting together 2 WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS AT 11:30 AM to celebrate Christmas? Why no I didn't! Yes, it's the DYSFUNCTION family. Dad Dysfunction, Mom Dysfunction, Big Brother Dysfunction, Little Sister Dysfunction, Aunt and Uncle Dysfunction and all our little Dysfunction cousins!
Riddle me this: what kind of family, FAMILY, gets together TWO weeks (14 days or 336 hours) before Christmas, at 11:30 AM to celebrate?
My family. My insane, dysfunctional, related only by blood and name, completely ridiculous family. Hey everyone, let's celebrate Christ's birth by pretending we're only friends and scheduling a convenient time DURING LUNCH. What better way to help our nieces and nephews and grandchildren bond and grow together? That's right, over ham and pie, early enough before Christmas that everyone forgets that we even met. I mean, we only meet once a year anyway, why make it special? Why make it memorable? Why even try?
That's why when I have a family (there, I said it) we're getting together for Christmas no earlier than 2 days before Christmas and I am living in a house big enough for everyone to stay over. Heck, we might just all stay together for the entire time from Christmas to New Years. Why not? We'll bake and cook and eat and drink and play cards from dawn till dusk. We'll make snowmen (because God couldn't possibly deny us snow-- um...please Lord?) and we'll decorate cookies. I'll have my parents over (they're pretty awesome) and brothers and sister and my husband can have his family over and the adults will stay up late and drink wine and no matter what differences may pop up, we'll work through them. Our house will be lit with candles and pine scents from our tree and pine boughs and lights will be everywhere! And we'll have Wassil and Mulled Cider and Mulled wine. We'll stay up late and talk about Christ and the incredible passion of Christ and his love for us. We'll argue theology and discuss books and poems and the like.
That is when we will no longer be a dysfunctional family. Then and only then.
Riddle me this: what kind of family, FAMILY, gets together TWO weeks (14 days or 336 hours) before Christmas, at 11:30 AM to celebrate?
My family. My insane, dysfunctional, related only by blood and name, completely ridiculous family. Hey everyone, let's celebrate Christ's birth by pretending we're only friends and scheduling a convenient time DURING LUNCH. What better way to help our nieces and nephews and grandchildren bond and grow together? That's right, over ham and pie, early enough before Christmas that everyone forgets that we even met. I mean, we only meet once a year anyway, why make it special? Why make it memorable? Why even try?
That's why when I have a family (there, I said it) we're getting together for Christmas no earlier than 2 days before Christmas and I am living in a house big enough for everyone to stay over. Heck, we might just all stay together for the entire time from Christmas to New Years. Why not? We'll bake and cook and eat and drink and play cards from dawn till dusk. We'll make snowmen (because God couldn't possibly deny us snow-- um...please Lord?) and we'll decorate cookies. I'll have my parents over (they're pretty awesome) and brothers and sister and my husband can have his family over and the adults will stay up late and drink wine and no matter what differences may pop up, we'll work through them. Our house will be lit with candles and pine scents from our tree and pine boughs and lights will be everywhere! And we'll have Wassil and Mulled Cider and Mulled wine. We'll stay up late and talk about Christ and the incredible passion of Christ and his love for us. We'll argue theology and discuss books and poems and the like.
That is when we will no longer be a dysfunctional family. Then and only then.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Two Races.
Last night I wrote a post, published it, and then as soon as I woke up, took it down. I felt that although it was truly a good post, very honest, very genuine, it wasn't worthy of publishing. I desperately want to write a post. These last two weeks though, the time and energy have not been conducive whatsoever to writing anything. I have been mulling over an idea and I think I'm going to use it now, if anything it'll be a snack until something better comes along.
My Christian walk is like my running. Took awhile to get moving, but once I found the joy that comes with the running and the athletic fitness it brings with it, I wanted more. So I ran more. Like my Walk my faith was there (my ability to run) but I had never quite put it into action. Once I began Walking (running) I realized how important it is! Though there were times of great struggle and of pain and awakening and the ripping off of scabbed-over wounds, (burning lungs and running up hill) the cleansing of my heart and the dedication to He who created me overrode all the agony (similar to cleansing the body of toxins). I began to study so as to improve my walk (time), I committed myself to contributing to my Walk with devotions (committed time running), and I began to acquire essentials such as books by Lewis, Chambers, Eldredge, etc.(running shoes, shorts, tops). If I hurried and skipped over the essentials and tried to prove my faith too soon, (running too long too quickly and not stretching) I ended up battered and bruised a bit from reactions and situations I had not prepared for (stress fractures), having to go back and start over and this time, pay attention to the details of Christ's attitude and instruction.(returning to running after physical therapy). After it seemed I had plateaued in my faith and had no reason for exploring deeper into the Heart of God (running several 5Ks and doing fine) I would drop the ball in my Walk (quit running). Once however, I brought in structure to my life, be it via planner or what not; as soon as I re-introduced discipline (began going to the gym or outside), my Walk (running) would take off again!
If I lounged around the house, watched TV, or spent time on the Web, my walk (and running) suffered. So did the rest of my life. Friendships waned, going out and doing things slowed to a crawl, and sometimes depression would set in. The key is to keep moving. My parents taught me to never wallow in self-pity/ self-loathing but to just keep moving because I would eventually drag myself out of that slump. And they're right. Time after time, when I heeded their advice, I found myself ready to move on, ready to get Walking (running). Once you experience the change in your Christ-muscles (nice calves), you want more (toned thighs). It's hard sometimes to crack open that Bible or devotional (put on the shoes, get outside), but once you're in the middle of reading and praying, one realizes how imperative it is to continue the Race (running).
Some people would tell you to move along on a solid course. No depths or heights, just plug along running and walking without interruption and without change. I beg to differ. King David plunged to the depths and then soared to the heights. God loved his heart. If I stayed at a true horizontal walk, moving along in a tried and true pattern, where is the trust in Him? If my life were never to change, if I were to avoid all depths, I could not experience the heights. Just as if I always ran 2 miles, afraid that going 3 might kill me and 1 might not be enough. I'm neither challenging myself nor stretching the limits. I am lukewarm (hey, that sounds familiar!). My Walk may seem like a crawl or a sprint at times, but I prefer that to the tortoise. Slow and steady will finish the race, but the crawler/sprinter learns a lot more.
My Christian walk is like my running. Took awhile to get moving, but once I found the joy that comes with the running and the athletic fitness it brings with it, I wanted more. So I ran more. Like my Walk my faith was there (my ability to run) but I had never quite put it into action. Once I began Walking (running) I realized how important it is! Though there were times of great struggle and of pain and awakening and the ripping off of scabbed-over wounds, (burning lungs and running up hill) the cleansing of my heart and the dedication to He who created me overrode all the agony (similar to cleansing the body of toxins). I began to study so as to improve my walk (time), I committed myself to contributing to my Walk with devotions (committed time running), and I began to acquire essentials such as books by Lewis, Chambers, Eldredge, etc.(running shoes, shorts, tops). If I hurried and skipped over the essentials and tried to prove my faith too soon, (running too long too quickly and not stretching) I ended up battered and bruised a bit from reactions and situations I had not prepared for (stress fractures), having to go back and start over and this time, pay attention to the details of Christ's attitude and instruction.(returning to running after physical therapy). After it seemed I had plateaued in my faith and had no reason for exploring deeper into the Heart of God (running several 5Ks and doing fine) I would drop the ball in my Walk (quit running). Once however, I brought in structure to my life, be it via planner or what not; as soon as I re-introduced discipline (began going to the gym or outside), my Walk (running) would take off again!
If I lounged around the house, watched TV, or spent time on the Web, my walk (and running) suffered. So did the rest of my life. Friendships waned, going out and doing things slowed to a crawl, and sometimes depression would set in. The key is to keep moving. My parents taught me to never wallow in self-pity/ self-loathing but to just keep moving because I would eventually drag myself out of that slump. And they're right. Time after time, when I heeded their advice, I found myself ready to move on, ready to get Walking (running). Once you experience the change in your Christ-muscles (nice calves), you want more (toned thighs). It's hard sometimes to crack open that Bible or devotional (put on the shoes, get outside), but once you're in the middle of reading and praying, one realizes how imperative it is to continue the Race (running).
Some people would tell you to move along on a solid course. No depths or heights, just plug along running and walking without interruption and without change. I beg to differ. King David plunged to the depths and then soared to the heights. God loved his heart. If I stayed at a true horizontal walk, moving along in a tried and true pattern, where is the trust in Him? If my life were never to change, if I were to avoid all depths, I could not experience the heights. Just as if I always ran 2 miles, afraid that going 3 might kill me and 1 might not be enough. I'm neither challenging myself nor stretching the limits. I am lukewarm (hey, that sounds familiar!). My Walk may seem like a crawl or a sprint at times, but I prefer that to the tortoise. Slow and steady will finish the race, but the crawler/sprinter learns a lot more.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Happy Holidays!
There is something about Christmastime that brings so much joy to my heart. This is the time when we celebrate Christ's birth; a time for all to publicly rejoice in redemption's arrival. I understand that nowadays the world wants us to say "Happy Holidays," instead of "Merry Christmas," but isn't it essentially the same? So I'm going to go on now in my blissful state and continue to sing the praises for this season. You know why I like it so much? Because deep within us all our souls, even those held captive, are celebrating. For some that voice is as tiny as a church-mouse's whisper, for others it is as loud as thunder, but in all of us it is there. The voice of our souls saying "my redeemer has come! Hallelujah, let us rejoice! Let us sing and shout for joy because today, on this day, salvation came into the world and we are set free!"
This is why I love the holidays. There is this atmospheric tension that seems to build. Each day is more pregnant than the last with the anticipation of our dear Savior's birth! And the whole world celebrates! Lights are strung up, bells are hung, tree's decorated, gifts bought, garland wrapped down banisters, carolers sing, Christmas music blares from every speaker available, and people bake the most delicious food ever! Do you realize no other day, nay, no other season can hold a candle (pun intended) to the amount of songs dedicated to this time? The songs go on forever! Beautiful melodic songs that we sing that began in the 12th century? What song do you know that began 9 centuries* (900 years) ago that we still sing? Right!
Yes this is a time for retailers to rejoice as well, but realize this, no matter how commercialized this time becomes, it only exists for one reason. For One reason is there this holiday season and quite frankly it can become as materialistic as anything because in the long run, in the end, the True Reason for this season will win. You can take my credit card but you can't take the Christ out of Christmas. You can change the name for all I care, you could make into whatever you want, be it Presents day, be it Spendallyourmoney Day, be it Reindeer Day, WHO CARES?! Do you really think that your soul will be change its tune just because our society (bear in mind it is only a society) is trying to warp this season? My soul will still rejoice and so will yours! If I were kept in a windowless room and my ears were closed, my soul would still know this season.
* O Come O Come Emmanuel.
For a plethora of Christmas Carols and Hymns, visit http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/HTML/The_hymns_and_carols_.htm
This is why I love the holidays. There is this atmospheric tension that seems to build. Each day is more pregnant than the last with the anticipation of our dear Savior's birth! And the whole world celebrates! Lights are strung up, bells are hung, tree's decorated, gifts bought, garland wrapped down banisters, carolers sing, Christmas music blares from every speaker available, and people bake the most delicious food ever! Do you realize no other day, nay, no other season can hold a candle (pun intended) to the amount of songs dedicated to this time? The songs go on forever! Beautiful melodic songs that we sing that began in the 12th century? What song do you know that began 9 centuries* (900 years) ago that we still sing? Right!
Yes this is a time for retailers to rejoice as well, but realize this, no matter how commercialized this time becomes, it only exists for one reason. For One reason is there this holiday season and quite frankly it can become as materialistic as anything because in the long run, in the end, the True Reason for this season will win. You can take my credit card but you can't take the Christ out of Christmas. You can change the name for all I care, you could make into whatever you want, be it Presents day, be it Spendallyourmoney Day, be it Reindeer Day, WHO CARES?! Do you really think that your soul will be change its tune just because our society (bear in mind it is only a society) is trying to warp this season? My soul will still rejoice and so will yours! If I were kept in a windowless room and my ears were closed, my soul would still know this season.
* O Come O Come Emmanuel.
For a plethora of Christmas Carols and Hymns, visit http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/HTML/The_hymns_and_carols_.htm
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
The Man in Black
So I've been reading this biography (ahem, the authorized biography) of John R. Cash. As I first heard of him, way back in the day, he was known to me as Johnny Cash, Gospel singer and relatively boring person. I know, I know, I know, Johnny Cash boring? As I knew him, he hung out with Billy Graham and sang the old hymns and uninteresting gospels. Without watching Walk The Line, I would never have taken an interest in this man and his wife. Well friends, I shall commence eating crow because this man is probably the furthest thing from uninteresting.
So far this is what I've gathered: He became a Christian at 12, was traumatized by his brother's tragic death, entered the Air Force, married Vivian because (and I think so) he loved her, started his music career (and drug/alcohol abuse), had an affair with June, divorced Vivian, cleaned up his act, rededicated his life, and married June.
Did you know that after his marriage to June and rededication to living a Christ-like life he spiraled back into drug abuse? This is a man who was baptized three times, including one time in the Jordan River, made a movie about Christ, wrote a book about Paul, attended church regularly, had a hit TV show that emphasized a life with Christ, and was revered by many influential Christians (i.e. Billy Graham and his wife) and leading politicians. This man had a plantation in Jamaica, the house of his dreams outside Nashville, and another house somewhere else that he liked as well (yes, stellar description of the latter, huh?!). He had that long sought-after son, a wife he loved/adored, and a career of which he could be proud. Yet even with all that he hit the drugs again! After knowing that it once nearly killed his career, let alone him, he couldn't say no. Once again though, the people around him pull together and with them and the recollection of what happened those many year ago, he made it out of that deadly mire. That's as far as I am now in the book, but I know there's a happy ending and I know his relationship with the Lord deepens even further.
Doesn't that say something about what the Lord desires in his followers? Think about it, Abraham, David, and Paul (they're the only ones that come to mind at the moment). They were not lukewarm! They were men who screwed up, and recovered, and screwed up, and recovered. They didn't just sit around and twiddle their thumbs, saying "well, if I do nothing then I won't risk doing the wrong thing and getting in trouble, so I'll just sit here and make no trouble." Hmm... interesting, because when you read Revelation 3:15-16, the Lord doesn't say he only wants those who are piously following him. "15 I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! 16 So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth."
Neither hot nor cold. Far too many times I believe I am lukewarm, never willing to risk; I'm the worker who buried his master's money in the ground. Always afraid I'm going to step on someone's toes, always afraid I'm going to hurt someone, always afraid I'm going to do whatever it is I set out to do wrong. You would think that after all the teachings, all the books, all the experiences I've been through already I wouldn't worry about failing. When it comes to a crunch time, when in the midst of a situation that calls for my decision, I never hesitate though. Under pressure, I will make a decision that I consider wise. It's the lull before that causes me to question everything and frown any action on my part. Being lukewarm is discouraging! You stand there in that tepid area, thinking "ooo, but what if I get too cold... what if I get too hot?" Oh I hate that I let the "What if(s)?" influence my life! Stupid hesitant bane of my life! (right now, bane of my life is the hit phrase).
I wonder what Johnny would have done.
So far this is what I've gathered: He became a Christian at 12, was traumatized by his brother's tragic death, entered the Air Force, married Vivian because (and I think so) he loved her, started his music career (and drug/alcohol abuse), had an affair with June, divorced Vivian, cleaned up his act, rededicated his life, and married June.
Did you know that after his marriage to June and rededication to living a Christ-like life he spiraled back into drug abuse? This is a man who was baptized three times, including one time in the Jordan River, made a movie about Christ, wrote a book about Paul, attended church regularly, had a hit TV show that emphasized a life with Christ, and was revered by many influential Christians (i.e. Billy Graham and his wife) and leading politicians. This man had a plantation in Jamaica, the house of his dreams outside Nashville, and another house somewhere else that he liked as well (yes, stellar description of the latter, huh?!). He had that long sought-after son, a wife he loved/adored, and a career of which he could be proud. Yet even with all that he hit the drugs again! After knowing that it once nearly killed his career, let alone him, he couldn't say no. Once again though, the people around him pull together and with them and the recollection of what happened those many year ago, he made it out of that deadly mire. That's as far as I am now in the book, but I know there's a happy ending and I know his relationship with the Lord deepens even further.
Doesn't that say something about what the Lord desires in his followers? Think about it, Abraham, David, and Paul (they're the only ones that come to mind at the moment). They were not lukewarm! They were men who screwed up, and recovered, and screwed up, and recovered. They didn't just sit around and twiddle their thumbs, saying "well, if I do nothing then I won't risk doing the wrong thing and getting in trouble, so I'll just sit here and make no trouble." Hmm... interesting, because when you read Revelation 3:15-16, the Lord doesn't say he only wants those who are piously following him. "15 I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! 16 So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth."
Neither hot nor cold. Far too many times I believe I am lukewarm, never willing to risk; I'm the worker who buried his master's money in the ground. Always afraid I'm going to step on someone's toes, always afraid I'm going to hurt someone, always afraid I'm going to do whatever it is I set out to do wrong. You would think that after all the teachings, all the books, all the experiences I've been through already I wouldn't worry about failing. When it comes to a crunch time, when in the midst of a situation that calls for my decision, I never hesitate though. Under pressure, I will make a decision that I consider wise. It's the lull before that causes me to question everything and frown any action on my part. Being lukewarm is discouraging! You stand there in that tepid area, thinking "ooo, but what if I get too cold... what if I get too hot?" Oh I hate that I let the "What if(s)?" influence my life! Stupid hesitant bane of my life! (right now, bane of my life is the hit phrase).
I wonder what Johnny would have done.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Rescuing my credit card from the Greeks!
So through the last week and a half, I've been making some fantastic progress regarding my ideas of marriage and children. It's been a quite enlightening, and quite frankly much needed, adventure through "The rapidly depleting misguided mindsets of one American lass."
For the past 5 years I have been against having children and getting married (although most definitely not in that order.) Who wants to get married and live with the same person for the rest of their life? Why not stay single and enjoy the independence of freedom? Freedom from battling it over who gets to go to whose family for whatever holiday. Freedom from having to worry about providing for someone else, freedom from having to be responsible to and for someone else, freedom from having someone else care about you, and freedom from waking up to the same person day in and day out. Regarding children: Freedom from changing diapers, freedom from feeding them, freedom from the screaming and yelling, freedom from the stress that comes with children, and most importantly, freedom from mini-vans!
Now as justifiable as those arguments are, they are not fair and they are completely heartless. Thanks to some good listeners and those whose mindsets are much more um...positive than mine, my heart has been changed and the vows I made regarding marriage and children are being broken and surrendered completely to my Lord. (I would give a longer explanation but too bad so sad, that part is much too tender and personal to share.) So in sum: No longer looking after self, but to what the Lord would place in my life and lead me to do. Absolutely delightful! I am so thankful to give up the idea that I am in charge of my heart and life goals.
And then I babysat a set of 2 year old twin girls and their 7 year old sister.
Oh, you didn't think that experience changed any of my newfound freedom, did you? It shall take a lot more than that for I to revert to my old mindsets. It did nothing to encourage me though, but nothing to deter me; just made me thankful that all things come with God's timing.
My story continues: I leave the house of horrors, I mean the sit, and continue on my merry way over to some friends' house to watch some Borat clips, make Christmas cards for children in hospitals, and recoup, I mean, enjoy the rest of my evening. Then after returning home I realize that my debit card is missing. O joy of joys. Not one to worry, I decide to wait until the morning to search for it. Then I get a call saying the family that I just sat for has found it. This means a return to Chaosville and at that point, I would have let them keep the card and waited the week until I could get a new one. Not a good idea because this means I am low on gas, sans cash, and sans means for getting cash. Stupid plastic bane of my life. However, I am not low enough on gas to miss out on a euchre/catch phrase game party. Besides, why worry about tonight when you can worry about it tomorrow? Of course that means that when one gets back to her apartment at 2 am, thoughts such as these invade her normally rational mind, "Hey, gas stations still take personal checks! Or I could give them my memorized card number (yes, I am that big of a dork and online customer)!"
At 10am the next morning, said rational falls flat. This means I do not get to go to church (my church) because gas stations neither take personal checks nor do they think one would seriously memorize their card number. And this means imminent return to that not so happy place. Did I mention my computer hates me? However, at the peak of my irritation, I realized that my attitude was not glorifying to the Lord whatsoever and I immediately repented for my not so nice thoughts. It is never a pleasant nor beneficial experience to have animosity in ones heart and it is not who I am, thank the Lord that I can choose to get out of my bad attitude. So after church with April, which was very poignant, I head on over and retrieve my card. It actually didn't go as bad as I had anticipated and in less than 35 seconds I was free for once and forever from that tribe of merciless cannibalistic headhunters. I mean loving and delightful children. And guess what was playing on the radio as I headed home? Christmas carols!! I love Christmas, I love this time of year, I love the camaraderie, the atmospheric change that comes with joyful times, and I love Christmas carols! So guess who belted out to "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus," and "Rocking around the Christmas Tree," the whole way home? That's right, yours truly. Good things come to those who delight themselves in the Lord. All you need is a change of heart. Then even the most loathsome of experiences becomes precious.
For the past 5 years I have been against having children and getting married (although most definitely not in that order.) Who wants to get married and live with the same person for the rest of their life? Why not stay single and enjoy the independence of freedom? Freedom from battling it over who gets to go to whose family for whatever holiday. Freedom from having to worry about providing for someone else, freedom from having to be responsible to and for someone else, freedom from having someone else care about you, and freedom from waking up to the same person day in and day out. Regarding children: Freedom from changing diapers, freedom from feeding them, freedom from the screaming and yelling, freedom from the stress that comes with children, and most importantly, freedom from mini-vans!
Now as justifiable as those arguments are, they are not fair and they are completely heartless. Thanks to some good listeners and those whose mindsets are much more um...positive than mine, my heart has been changed and the vows I made regarding marriage and children are being broken and surrendered completely to my Lord. (I would give a longer explanation but too bad so sad, that part is much too tender and personal to share.) So in sum: No longer looking after self, but to what the Lord would place in my life and lead me to do. Absolutely delightful! I am so thankful to give up the idea that I am in charge of my heart and life goals.
And then I babysat a set of 2 year old twin girls and their 7 year old sister.
Oh, you didn't think that experience changed any of my newfound freedom, did you? It shall take a lot more than that for I to revert to my old mindsets. It did nothing to encourage me though, but nothing to deter me; just made me thankful that all things come with God's timing.
My story continues: I leave the house of horrors, I mean the sit, and continue on my merry way over to some friends' house to watch some Borat clips, make Christmas cards for children in hospitals, and recoup, I mean, enjoy the rest of my evening. Then after returning home I realize that my debit card is missing. O joy of joys. Not one to worry, I decide to wait until the morning to search for it. Then I get a call saying the family that I just sat for has found it. This means a return to Chaosville and at that point, I would have let them keep the card and waited the week until I could get a new one. Not a good idea because this means I am low on gas, sans cash, and sans means for getting cash. Stupid plastic bane of my life. However, I am not low enough on gas to miss out on a euchre/catch phrase game party. Besides, why worry about tonight when you can worry about it tomorrow? Of course that means that when one gets back to her apartment at 2 am, thoughts such as these invade her normally rational mind, "Hey, gas stations still take personal checks! Or I could give them my memorized card number (yes, I am that big of a dork and online customer)!"
At 10am the next morning, said rational falls flat. This means I do not get to go to church (my church) because gas stations neither take personal checks nor do they think one would seriously memorize their card number. And this means imminent return to that not so happy place. Did I mention my computer hates me? However, at the peak of my irritation, I realized that my attitude was not glorifying to the Lord whatsoever and I immediately repented for my not so nice thoughts. It is never a pleasant nor beneficial experience to have animosity in ones heart and it is not who I am, thank the Lord that I can choose to get out of my bad attitude. So after church with April, which was very poignant, I head on over and retrieve my card. It actually didn't go as bad as I had anticipated and in less than 35 seconds I was free for once and forever from that tribe of merciless cannibalistic headhunters. I mean loving and delightful children. And guess what was playing on the radio as I headed home? Christmas carols!! I love Christmas, I love this time of year, I love the camaraderie, the atmospheric change that comes with joyful times, and I love Christmas carols! So guess who belted out to "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus," and "Rocking around the Christmas Tree," the whole way home? That's right, yours truly. Good things come to those who delight themselves in the Lord. All you need is a change of heart. Then even the most loathsome of experiences becomes precious.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
The Ugliness of Self
I've learned through the past years that I'm not the only person to go through certain situations/seasons. Still, in the midst of any given situation/season, I always think I am alone in having to go through said situation/season. Like today for instance.
Usually I am not far from the assumption that I'm a pretty good person. I've got a good personality, I'm laid-back just enough to not get angry instantly, when angry I forgive quickly, and I like to be organized, but never too organized. All things considered, I'm a fairly neat (as in pretty awesome) person to be around. Did I mention my sense of humor is delightful? Now I'm starting to sound like I'm stuck on myself, huh? Right you are. And so enters the reason for this story.
Today I got angry, quite angry, angry to the point where I wanted to slap someone. And for what reason, one might ask? Because I felt I had been wronged. Gone went my "forgive at all costs" attitude, out the door flew my "well, let's look at it from their point of view" mindset, and no where to be found was my desire to be Christ-like. I looked at my Bible and my devotional and flat-out said "No, I do not want to open you." I wanted vengance, I wanted retribution, and I wanted to dish it all out. Hah, isn't it so easy to be Christ-like when the only turbulence in your life is deciding what you want to do that day?
Looks like I'm not all I'm cracked up to be! Nothing like a good glimpse of my ugliness to put me right back on track. It's a love-hate moment when you get a big bold smack in the face of who you are and who you should be. Makes me think "Wow, and I have friends?" and "What, Christ loves me?" Were that I anyone but me! God's grace is unfathomable! He loves me! This screwed up, self-righteous, blundering, babbling, can-barely-do-anything-right, always second-guessing, most unworthy me.
Needless to say, I did not slap anyone, nor chew anyone out, nor make good in any way on my anger. Maybe I'm not as bad as I think I am..... lol.
Usually I am not far from the assumption that I'm a pretty good person. I've got a good personality, I'm laid-back just enough to not get angry instantly, when angry I forgive quickly, and I like to be organized, but never too organized. All things considered, I'm a fairly neat (as in pretty awesome) person to be around. Did I mention my sense of humor is delightful? Now I'm starting to sound like I'm stuck on myself, huh? Right you are. And so enters the reason for this story.
Today I got angry, quite angry, angry to the point where I wanted to slap someone. And for what reason, one might ask? Because I felt I had been wronged. Gone went my "forgive at all costs" attitude, out the door flew my "well, let's look at it from their point of view" mindset, and no where to be found was my desire to be Christ-like. I looked at my Bible and my devotional and flat-out said "No, I do not want to open you." I wanted vengance, I wanted retribution, and I wanted to dish it all out. Hah, isn't it so easy to be Christ-like when the only turbulence in your life is deciding what you want to do that day?
Looks like I'm not all I'm cracked up to be! Nothing like a good glimpse of my ugliness to put me right back on track. It's a love-hate moment when you get a big bold smack in the face of who you are and who you should be. Makes me think "Wow, and I have friends?" and "What, Christ loves me?" Were that I anyone but me! God's grace is unfathomable! He loves me! This screwed up, self-righteous, blundering, babbling, can-barely-do-anything-right, always second-guessing, most unworthy me.
Needless to say, I did not slap anyone, nor chew anyone out, nor make good in any way on my anger. Maybe I'm not as bad as I think I am..... lol.
Monday, October 30, 2006
His Unfailling Love, Explained
These three posts are about my relationship with the Lord and all that he is working in my heart. I will never be a poet so as this is read, keep in mind these are only thoughts poured out. Also, they're meant to go from His Unfailing Love then Part Two, then Part Three. However, they are not in that order as you scroll down this page.
His Love Is Unfailing, Part Three
Why must you restore hope?
I would rather risk living without hope.
Is there anything more heart-breaking
than hope left unanswered by it's desire?
Why do I matter to you?
My soul is but one,
Can you not give the others this love?
This care and devotion is breaking me.
You're melting down my walls,
climbing over my defenses,
You are calling this heart a beauty,
Would you really tell her she's worth fighting for?
If hope is not birthed for that occasion,
then it never has to suffer the bitter letdown.
Will you not take my love,
and let me alone?
I would rather risk living without hope.
Is there anything more heart-breaking
than hope left unanswered by it's desire?
Why do I matter to you?
My soul is but one,
Can you not give the others this love?
This care and devotion is breaking me.
You're melting down my walls,
climbing over my defenses,
You are calling this heart a beauty,
Would you really tell her she's worth fighting for?
If hope is not birthed for that occasion,
then it never has to suffer the bitter letdown.
Will you not take my love,
and let me alone?
His Love Is Unfailing, Part Two.
Why must you love me?
I am content with a love unrequited.
You give me everything,
I don't need this.
I know you love me,
why must you show it?
Why must you be so blatant?
Why are you doing this to me?
You are not being sensible.
I freely give my love,
I expect nothing in return,
must you show it?
This love makes me vunerable.
This love means I have to accept it.
Just let me love, don't give it back.
This love makes me feel.
I don't know if I can.
this vunerable place
means pieces of me
must come awake.
I am content with a love unrequited.
You give me everything,
I don't need this.
I know you love me,
why must you show it?
Why must you be so blatant?
Why are you doing this to me?
You are not being sensible.
I freely give my love,
I expect nothing in return,
must you show it?
This love makes me vunerable.
This love means I have to accept it.
Just let me love, don't give it back.
This love makes me feel.
I don't know if I can.
this vunerable place
means pieces of me
must come awake.
His Love Is Unfailing.
My heart is weighed down.
My soul is overwhelmed.
A bright and glorious day,
Now overshadowed with a heavy presence.
Diana, what have I done?
Diana, what has happened?
This is not what it seems!
Still in innocence, still in grace,
Bearing yet a mighty weight.
I cannot see, I cannot tell,
The depth of this troubling well.
Waters clear and calm,
Your purest springs do here belong.
I thought these finest waters,
Would give me an answer.
I gave you my burdens,
I surrendered all,
This is not what I expected.
Broken and open,
Shattered so that I might grow.
I thought this healing would be different.
Where did my security go?
On open waters do I walk,
Closed eyes, clenched fists.
I don't understand why I am here,
I don't understand why this is happening.
Why now, why at this time?
Cannot this wait, this is much too tender.
I don't want to explore that part
Leave it alone, don't disturb my heart.
Can you not see,
I am content behind these walls!
Leave it alone! Why must you
Delve into the innermost parts?
I never asked for this,
I never checked this option.
Yet you do not care.
Why must you love me?
My soul is overwhelmed.
A bright and glorious day,
Now overshadowed with a heavy presence.
Diana, what have I done?
Diana, what has happened?
This is not what it seems!
Still in innocence, still in grace,
Bearing yet a mighty weight.
I cannot see, I cannot tell,
The depth of this troubling well.
Waters clear and calm,
Your purest springs do here belong.
I thought these finest waters,
Would give me an answer.
I gave you my burdens,
I surrendered all,
This is not what I expected.
Broken and open,
Shattered so that I might grow.
I thought this healing would be different.
Where did my security go?
On open waters do I walk,
Closed eyes, clenched fists.
I don't understand why I am here,
I don't understand why this is happening.
Why now, why at this time?
Cannot this wait, this is much too tender.
I don't want to explore that part
Leave it alone, don't disturb my heart.
Can you not see,
I am content behind these walls!
Leave it alone! Why must you
Delve into the innermost parts?
I never asked for this,
I never checked this option.
Yet you do not care.
Why must you love me?
Monday, October 23, 2006
Last of a dying breed.
I feel the need to write something and I have an idea of what it is, but it's something so deep I'm not sure I can bring it to surface but I need to so it can breathe.
Do you ever wonder why you were made the way you are? Why do certain things bring life to you and why do you turn from others? Do you ever wonder why some things just capture you and others you could care less about? For some it's just who they are and they never question. Typically that is my response but for this one idiosyncracy I cannot help but question all the time. Why, I always wonder, do I care about this?
I care about military history. Nothing can enrapture me and bring me to tears as quickly as a discussion about the World Wars. I pride myself on not being a crier and for maintaining a "stiff upper lip," concerning just about anything. My horses die and that's a fact of life, grandparents and childhood friends pass away and I rejoice in the knowledege that I'll get to see them later. My dearest friends move away and I am nothing but truly delighted for them. Yet nothing breaks my heart like old war movies, be they fiction or not, books, radio broadcasts, museums, battlefields, and monuments. Oh many people find me crazy enough for being a girl and into military history and they can mock and jeer as they please. It's who I am. There is something in my heart that stirs, a combination of mourning and pride, honor and understanding, and a deep deep knowledge of loss. All those boys. So many, so very very many, did not come home. So many were called to do things we'll never even imagine ourselves capable of doing, be it in self-defense or in selflessness. What have we ever had to do that was even remotely as challenging as so many of those soldiers faced? I know my history and I know that not every soldier faced a trial or tribulation that would be note-worthy, but they served, didn't they?
There's no explaining it properly. I'm probably going to end up contradicting myself somewhere here. I am just so filled with sorrow that we're never going to know the trust cost of sending out all those solders to fight. It is probably better that I don't know, it might burden me more. But what I do want to know is why it burdens me even now. Why do I care about what happened 60 years ago, why do I care that we'll never get to hear every single story about what happened? Why do I care? Why do I want to care? Why do I feel the need to care? None of this makes sense and I'm even more confused then when I started. Darnit.
Do you ever wonder why you were made the way you are? Why do certain things bring life to you and why do you turn from others? Do you ever wonder why some things just capture you and others you could care less about? For some it's just who they are and they never question. Typically that is my response but for this one idiosyncracy I cannot help but question all the time. Why, I always wonder, do I care about this?
I care about military history. Nothing can enrapture me and bring me to tears as quickly as a discussion about the World Wars. I pride myself on not being a crier and for maintaining a "stiff upper lip," concerning just about anything. My horses die and that's a fact of life, grandparents and childhood friends pass away and I rejoice in the knowledege that I'll get to see them later. My dearest friends move away and I am nothing but truly delighted for them. Yet nothing breaks my heart like old war movies, be they fiction or not, books, radio broadcasts, museums, battlefields, and monuments. Oh many people find me crazy enough for being a girl and into military history and they can mock and jeer as they please. It's who I am. There is something in my heart that stirs, a combination of mourning and pride, honor and understanding, and a deep deep knowledge of loss. All those boys. So many, so very very many, did not come home. So many were called to do things we'll never even imagine ourselves capable of doing, be it in self-defense or in selflessness. What have we ever had to do that was even remotely as challenging as so many of those soldiers faced? I know my history and I know that not every soldier faced a trial or tribulation that would be note-worthy, but they served, didn't they?
There's no explaining it properly. I'm probably going to end up contradicting myself somewhere here. I am just so filled with sorrow that we're never going to know the trust cost of sending out all those solders to fight. It is probably better that I don't know, it might burden me more. But what I do want to know is why it burdens me even now. Why do I care about what happened 60 years ago, why do I care that we'll never get to hear every single story about what happened? Why do I care? Why do I want to care? Why do I feel the need to care? None of this makes sense and I'm even more confused then when I started. Darnit.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
KISSMYB
How's that for a license plate? Or "SWEET B" is a good one too. I'll probably go with the latter but I do admit the former brings giggles of mischievous delight.
My story begins at 5 am and ends not before 11pm. I slept nary a wink last night, and then fitfully at best, getting up at 5am merely because I could not stay in bed a minute longer! I even made coffee to whittle away the time, as if I even needed a drop of caffeine. Then Pops picked me up at 6 am and we headed out to good ole' Springfield, Illinois, a whopping 397 miles/6.75 hours away. For about the first ohh....1.5 hours, I chattered non-stop. I think I bounced around several hundred conversations while my father sat there, dazed and confused by this tasmanian she-devil whirling about in a fury of conversation. Then as soon as the fountain of speech burst forth, it stopped. Yes, I crashed. All of the sudden speech become slow and slurred and my head slowly drooped down and I actually fell asleep. Actual time from last word spoken to moment of sleep was probably about the same time it takes to turn a light switch off.
Then my loving father kindly wakes me up and says "Hey, your turn." Nice. So I drove from somewhere outside of Dayton (heck yes, I didn't even make it out of Ohio before going comatose) all the way to Springfield. I would just like to throw out that IL and IN are f-l-a-t. I think this poem/ballad I wrote catches the gist of it all. While Pops slept through this monotony of terra firma, I struck up quite the catchy tune. Ever listen to people who hum along to their ipod, emitting sounds that seem not to correspond whatsoever? Yes, this was me but with lyrics. Laugh away but I am not ashamed. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Flat farmland everywhere
Not a hill to spare
I hate this flat farmland
Flat farmland everywhere. (repeat as many times as it takes until you are out of the flat farmland)
I know I know, it's platinum stuff. Just remember, strife brings genius (and I totally made that saying up --they should seriously look into using my song and the flat farmland as a new form of water torture)
So we get to Springfield (and I totally got to see Abraham Lincoln's Presidential Library (emit veloceraptor-like screech of joy)) and make our way over to the U-Haul joint- where we find out in short order that our electrical hookup for the auto transport is not the correct one, our receiver won't come out of the hitch in order to put in the receiver with the ball, and the ball is too big. Now is the time where I sing the praises of both Fathers. Heavenly one for orchestrating all of this and earthly one for being my earthly hero. He went out, bought an electrical adapter, wailed on the receiver with a hammer and WD-40 for a good solid 15 minutes, and got the trailer hitch to fit the receiver. He's pretty much amazing. OO, and while he was out performing these great feats, I got to watch the 40th fighter squadron (don't quite me on the squadron part) out performing their own great feats...(acrobatic that is).
We get to the seller's house (who has been ever so gracious in waiting for us) and find out that he's a pretty super guy. With me behind the wheel, he and my father guide (more like get a running start and push with all their might) the car up onto the auto transport. No, they didn't do it for fun, the battery had died, sheesh. We fill out the title information, say our goodbyes and scoot on outta Dodge. Actually though, Springfield has a very "yesteryear" feel about it and for the couple hours we were there, it was quite nice. Thanks to the o-so-sweet staff at the IL DMV (I'm sure there were some sweet staff there, they must just hide far far away from the front), we had all the title information correct and could actually commence "scooting outta Dodge."
7 hours, 397 miles, 1 new battery, and thousands of veloceraptor-like screeches of delight later, we arrive back in Columbus. Entering it just as we had left it, in the dark. I would just like to say this has been 800 miles and 18 hours that I will always remember and treasure for the rest of my life. Thanks Pops! (Did I mention my MGB is the hottest thing on this planet? Scarlet exterior with silver (grey) trim and and a rocking black leather interior. H-o-t. The size is something I'm going to have to get over though, it's about the size of a miata which is something I've never encountered before in driving. I learned to drive a suburban and horse trailer get-up before a 4 door car so I'm looking forward to this new challenge. And some sleep.
night.
My story begins at 5 am and ends not before 11pm. I slept nary a wink last night, and then fitfully at best, getting up at 5am merely because I could not stay in bed a minute longer! I even made coffee to whittle away the time, as if I even needed a drop of caffeine. Then Pops picked me up at 6 am and we headed out to good ole' Springfield, Illinois, a whopping 397 miles/6.75 hours away. For about the first ohh....1.5 hours, I chattered non-stop. I think I bounced around several hundred conversations while my father sat there, dazed and confused by this tasmanian she-devil whirling about in a fury of conversation. Then as soon as the fountain of speech burst forth, it stopped. Yes, I crashed. All of the sudden speech become slow and slurred and my head slowly drooped down and I actually fell asleep. Actual time from last word spoken to moment of sleep was probably about the same time it takes to turn a light switch off.
Then my loving father kindly wakes me up and says "Hey, your turn." Nice. So I drove from somewhere outside of Dayton (heck yes, I didn't even make it out of Ohio before going comatose) all the way to Springfield. I would just like to throw out that IL and IN are f-l-a-t. I think this poem/ballad I wrote catches the gist of it all. While Pops slept through this monotony of terra firma, I struck up quite the catchy tune. Ever listen to people who hum along to their ipod, emitting sounds that seem not to correspond whatsoever? Yes, this was me but with lyrics. Laugh away but I am not ashamed. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Flat farmland everywhere
Not a hill to spare
I hate this flat farmland
Flat farmland everywhere. (repeat as many times as it takes until you are out of the flat farmland)
I know I know, it's platinum stuff. Just remember, strife brings genius (and I totally made that saying up --they should seriously look into using my song and the flat farmland as a new form of water torture)
So we get to Springfield (and I totally got to see Abraham Lincoln's Presidential Library (emit veloceraptor-like screech of joy)) and make our way over to the U-Haul joint- where we find out in short order that our electrical hookup for the auto transport is not the correct one, our receiver won't come out of the hitch in order to put in the receiver with the ball, and the ball is too big. Now is the time where I sing the praises of both Fathers. Heavenly one for orchestrating all of this and earthly one for being my earthly hero. He went out, bought an electrical adapter, wailed on the receiver with a hammer and WD-40 for a good solid 15 minutes, and got the trailer hitch to fit the receiver. He's pretty much amazing. OO, and while he was out performing these great feats, I got to watch the 40th fighter squadron (don't quite me on the squadron part) out performing their own great feats...(acrobatic that is).
We get to the seller's house (who has been ever so gracious in waiting for us) and find out that he's a pretty super guy. With me behind the wheel, he and my father guide (more like get a running start and push with all their might) the car up onto the auto transport. No, they didn't do it for fun, the battery had died, sheesh. We fill out the title information, say our goodbyes and scoot on outta Dodge. Actually though, Springfield has a very "yesteryear" feel about it and for the couple hours we were there, it was quite nice. Thanks to the o-so-sweet staff at the IL DMV (I'm sure there were some sweet staff there, they must just hide far far away from the front), we had all the title information correct and could actually commence "scooting outta Dodge."
7 hours, 397 miles, 1 new battery, and thousands of veloceraptor-like screeches of delight later, we arrive back in Columbus. Entering it just as we had left it, in the dark. I would just like to say this has been 800 miles and 18 hours that I will always remember and treasure for the rest of my life. Thanks Pops! (Did I mention my MGB is the hottest thing on this planet? Scarlet exterior with silver (grey) trim and and a rocking black leather interior. H-o-t. The size is something I'm going to have to get over though, it's about the size of a miata which is something I've never encountered before in driving. I learned to drive a suburban and horse trailer get-up before a 4 door car so I'm looking forward to this new challenge. And some sleep.
night.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Paradise, for a split second.
A couple nights ago I came to the realization that I do not know enough about my Lord. I mean, I know about him, I know of him, I know he is good and true and his love is unfailing. I know he desires the best for us and I know he loves me unconditionally. But I just don't know enough. So I opened the good ol' Book of Life and decided I would start at the beginning and go from there. Don't get me wrong, I've read the Bible through and through but only with the intent of knowing more about the Bible and for gaining more wisdom and knowledge. Yet that is what has brought me to this point. The knowledge I have of the Lord and the love I have for him need more. I need to know more about my Lord. Right, got that covered. Onward we go.
As I read through Genesis 1 and 2, my heart was struck with the beauty and intention of creation. Everything was perfect and created in perfect order. A more beautiful love story cannot be found! Everything was taken care of, even Adam. He lived in paradise with the woman of his dreams. Together they lived in perfect harmony and communion with the Lord. Isn't that what we strive for every day? And we only get a glimpse of that which they experienced. It is beautiful though, how deep within us is this call to return to our paradise. Deep within us is this knowledge that this is not our home. We belong somewhere else. Not just somewhere else but true paradise. Back to the text. I love how Eve is made out of his rib. It's so fitting! Right there at his side, right there even with him. It's genius! Then my heart sank; I knew what was going to happen next and I didn't want it to happen. I didn't want this perfect glory to end. Deep inside I cringed and begged God "just this once, please just this once, let it be a bad dream." Never before have I read this and felt such anguish and heaviness come over my heart. Funny though, for a split second I felt as though if my heart were so burdened and my soul so heavy, God would hear my cry and I would look down and there would be no Fall. It's true. Didn't happen though. Going onward wasn't an option now; I couldn't read the tragedy and I just closed the cover and turned off the light.
As I read through Genesis 1 and 2, my heart was struck with the beauty and intention of creation. Everything was perfect and created in perfect order. A more beautiful love story cannot be found! Everything was taken care of, even Adam. He lived in paradise with the woman of his dreams. Together they lived in perfect harmony and communion with the Lord. Isn't that what we strive for every day? And we only get a glimpse of that which they experienced. It is beautiful though, how deep within us is this call to return to our paradise. Deep within us is this knowledge that this is not our home. We belong somewhere else. Not just somewhere else but true paradise. Back to the text. I love how Eve is made out of his rib. It's so fitting! Right there at his side, right there even with him. It's genius! Then my heart sank; I knew what was going to happen next and I didn't want it to happen. I didn't want this perfect glory to end. Deep inside I cringed and begged God "just this once, please just this once, let it be a bad dream." Never before have I read this and felt such anguish and heaviness come over my heart. Funny though, for a split second I felt as though if my heart were so burdened and my soul so heavy, God would hear my cry and I would look down and there would be no Fall. It's true. Didn't happen though. Going onward wasn't an option now; I couldn't read the tragedy and I just closed the cover and turned off the light.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Dream on!
Ever wish you had a younger sibling to "pal around" with? Ever wish you could be that great protector of the younglings? Ever wish you could be the Jedi Master teaching the Padwan? Snap out of fantasy land my friends and into the great reality of older-child-hood. (not word, I know). During a conversation I thought of some realistic situations that one might want to mull over before begging their parents to reconsider birth control or adoption.
Top reasons why you don't want a younger sibling:
Changing diapers
Spit-up
Screaming shrilly when a toy is taken away
Screaming shrilly when hungry
Screaming shrilly when they need a diaper change
Screaming shrilly when not getting attention
Screaming shrilly for the heck of it
Taking up half the bed in the middle of the night
Taking up half the bed in the middle of the night and laying with their feet in your face. (to which you wake up)
Flushing the toilet when you're taking a shower (or dumping cold water over the top)
Repeatably banging pots and pans together (which is definitely not cute after the age of 4)
Taking over an entire house because it is their battleground (only cute when your sister is not screaming because she gets the sword and not the gun)
Taking over the TV for hours at a time
Screaming at each other when someone realizes that the other sibling has had the TV for hours.
Car rides.
Now because I do have younger siblings (in case you missed the hints) here are some great reasons for being an older sibling:
Snuggling together when watching a movie.
Holding their hand.
Holding them when they're scared.
Getting kissed on the cheek.
Throwing the football.
Having girl-time (painting your nails, facial masks, crazy hairstyles)
Standing up for them.
Taking the blame for starting the fight.
Chasing them around the house (inside and out)
Kissing their boo-boos
Laying the grass and looking at the clouds.
Pretending like you're driving like a bat outta Hades when they ask you to go "Warp-Speed."
Playing "Battlefield" outside and having to be the Axis powers (you always want them to be the good guys)
Tickling/wrestling fights that go on until mom yells.
Scaring the begeebees outta them and then them doing that to you.
Ganging up on the parents all together.
Picking out The Christmas Tree. Lots of yelling about who's tree is best but when it's all said and done, there's nothing like hot cider and popcorn to make everything better.
Reading them stories at night.
Singing songs together to annoy another sibling.
Snowball fights!
Sledding in the dark.
Car race video games. I never win but the crashes are stupendous enough to throw the other sib off track.
Medal of Honor ps2 games. I always get killed but I have to admire my little brothers sweet sniper skills.
Chasing them around on dirt-bikes. My sibs amaze me.
Horseback riding together. Bonanza's got nothin'.
Ok, that's it for now. ciao!
Top reasons why you don't want a younger sibling:
Changing diapers
Spit-up
Screaming shrilly when a toy is taken away
Screaming shrilly when hungry
Screaming shrilly when they need a diaper change
Screaming shrilly when not getting attention
Screaming shrilly for the heck of it
Taking up half the bed in the middle of the night
Taking up half the bed in the middle of the night and laying with their feet in your face. (to which you wake up)
Flushing the toilet when you're taking a shower (or dumping cold water over the top)
Repeatably banging pots and pans together (which is definitely not cute after the age of 4)
Taking over an entire house because it is their battleground (only cute when your sister is not screaming because she gets the sword and not the gun)
Taking over the TV for hours at a time
Screaming at each other when someone realizes that the other sibling has had the TV for hours.
Car rides.
Now because I do have younger siblings (in case you missed the hints) here are some great reasons for being an older sibling:
Snuggling together when watching a movie.
Holding their hand.
Holding them when they're scared.
Getting kissed on the cheek.
Throwing the football.
Having girl-time (painting your nails, facial masks, crazy hairstyles)
Standing up for them.
Taking the blame for starting the fight.
Chasing them around the house (inside and out)
Kissing their boo-boos
Laying the grass and looking at the clouds.
Pretending like you're driving like a bat outta Hades when they ask you to go "Warp-Speed."
Playing "Battlefield" outside and having to be the Axis powers (you always want them to be the good guys)
Tickling/wrestling fights that go on until mom yells.
Scaring the begeebees outta them and then them doing that to you.
Ganging up on the parents all together.
Picking out The Christmas Tree. Lots of yelling about who's tree is best but when it's all said and done, there's nothing like hot cider and popcorn to make everything better.
Reading them stories at night.
Singing songs together to annoy another sibling.
Snowball fights!
Sledding in the dark.
Car race video games. I never win but the crashes are stupendous enough to throw the other sib off track.
Medal of Honor ps2 games. I always get killed but I have to admire my little brothers sweet sniper skills.
Chasing them around on dirt-bikes. My sibs amaze me.
Horseback riding together. Bonanza's got nothin'.
Ok, that's it for now. ciao!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
How do I love thee!
Gil Grissom, on the off chance you are sitting at home browsing through the millions of blogs on the internet, please read this. You're my hero. Thank you for being my voice today. I would love to quote you verbatim but the shock and awe was to great for my little brain to record and so I can only paraphrase. "Our culture today says everything is permissible and everything is beneficial." Score one for some semblance of morality in our TV programs!
http://www.cbs.com/primetime/csi/
P.s. yes, I know Gil Grissom is a TV character. I know.
http://www.cbs.com/primetime/csi/
P.s. yes, I know Gil Grissom is a TV character. I know.
Fear, you shall not pass!
He doesn't love us for who we are but because of Who He Is.
Fear drives men (as in mankind, not only males). Someone once pointed out that when someone is under the influence of alcohol, that person is the "real" person. I would like to argue that point. I think alcohol/drunkenness only illuminates the fear and insecurities someone hides when possible. Think about it. How many girls are insecure and have low self-esteem? Get them intoxicated and they're hitting on every guy around. Same goes for guys. What about the normally shy person who comes just because? Get some drinks in them and who's the life of the party now? What about the guy whose girlfriend cheated on him with another man? Let the alcohol flow and you'll soon have front row seats for a big confrontation. You could see catfights too!
The person who pointed out that drunks/intoxicated people are the "real" person meant that all people should act as they are when inebriated. How cruel! These people only act as such because deep within them lies some wound that has been scarred over but never healed. No one wants to act as they are when intoxicated! How many people wake up the next day and wish what happened hadn't? How many people are embarrased for what went on? Won't their embarrasment and regret scratch open those wounds and keep them from being healed? The Enemy of our souls is fighting to keep our hearts as far from the Balm of Gilead as possible and he will use every tactic he can. Fear being the greatest weapon of all, second being the exploitation of that fear. Do you ever look into the eyes of the person next to you and see nothing? Do you look into someone's eyes and see life? See pain? Hurt may be just a feeling but it can be expressed. It could be easy to think "just avoid the pain, just avoid the circumstance, just protect myself," but that is just preserving the wound! In order for complete healing to take place, light must shine on that wound. It must be exposed to the Healer in order for Him to knit it up! Don't run, don't hide, let His Light find you!
Fear drives men (as in mankind, not only males). Someone once pointed out that when someone is under the influence of alcohol, that person is the "real" person. I would like to argue that point. I think alcohol/drunkenness only illuminates the fear and insecurities someone hides when possible. Think about it. How many girls are insecure and have low self-esteem? Get them intoxicated and they're hitting on every guy around. Same goes for guys. What about the normally shy person who comes just because? Get some drinks in them and who's the life of the party now? What about the guy whose girlfriend cheated on him with another man? Let the alcohol flow and you'll soon have front row seats for a big confrontation. You could see catfights too!
The person who pointed out that drunks/intoxicated people are the "real" person meant that all people should act as they are when inebriated. How cruel! These people only act as such because deep within them lies some wound that has been scarred over but never healed. No one wants to act as they are when intoxicated! How many people wake up the next day and wish what happened hadn't? How many people are embarrased for what went on? Won't their embarrasment and regret scratch open those wounds and keep them from being healed? The Enemy of our souls is fighting to keep our hearts as far from the Balm of Gilead as possible and he will use every tactic he can. Fear being the greatest weapon of all, second being the exploitation of that fear. Do you ever look into the eyes of the person next to you and see nothing? Do you look into someone's eyes and see life? See pain? Hurt may be just a feeling but it can be expressed. It could be easy to think "just avoid the pain, just avoid the circumstance, just protect myself," but that is just preserving the wound! In order for complete healing to take place, light must shine on that wound. It must be exposed to the Healer in order for Him to knit it up! Don't run, don't hide, let His Light find you!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
It's October o' weather dear!
My Wednesday was supposed to culminate with a wonderful evening at the Fair watching gianormous combines duke it out in front of the Grandstand. Instead I spent it huddled in a basement glued to the TV screen watching the radar make its sweeps around a brightly lit-up-in-red Fairfield County. Thank you Mr. Funnel Cloud. It's 50F outside and we're been interrupted by your good ol'neighborly tornado. Grrr! I've been looking forward to this for a year, A Whole Stinkin' Year! Do you know how fun it is to watch those behemoths ram into each other and chase each other around, all the while using only three wheels? (They typically lose one in the first 15min) Everything is in slow motion and each "BAM!" is spectacular. There's usually a fire of some kind but our FD is right there to take care of it. Not this year. For the second Wednesday in a row, I have been cornered and caged by tornadoes. Why not jazz it up a bit and come in on a Tuesday or a Thursday? Who wants seconds? What tornado ever got its infamy from coming in on the same day as another? BE ORIGINAL. I must say that starting around 5pm, I began to feel as though I would not be watching a Derby today. I called Mom, Dad, and brother Caleb to recheck the day and still I felt as though I would not be watching it. Once again, I am right. Or at least my "womanly intuition," has it together. Grrr!
On a May Morning
Deliberate in my decision, I have decided to create a blog where anyone can leave a comment. I shall soon commence with posting.
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