Herbal Happenstance: Herbs Behaving Badly

My herbs want to die.

They really do. They want to end life as they know it now.

Case in point:

I bought six (6) herbs over a period of a week. One Lavender (smells divine), two Rosemary (one of the traditionally used variety and one of a dwarf like "barbecue" variety - from which all of this nonsense might stem, although all leaves point towards Basil), one Parsley, one Oregano and the aforementioned Basil. Please read with the following pronunciation in mind as this variety prefers "Bahzhill." (I'm telling you, the instigator in all of this is Basil.....or is it?)

Now after acquiring all of said herbs, I have had no place to plant them. Written on ever single one of their plant tags, with no exception, were the words, "Plant in FULL SUN." Well then, as the budding gardener that I am, I aspire to plant to perfection. Follow those direction I shall! There's a window box on the inside of our balcony in the far corner which would be perfect. Except it's on the inside and therefore lacks full sun like is necessary for my hell bent on death precious plants. The afternoon after my purchases I found Parsley's stems leaning as far over to the south (the side with sun) as its stems could go. This just would not do. As this "windowbox" just won't hunt, and I had no over-the-wall planters, an executive decision had to be made. I decided to keep my foul-minded flora et fauna in their respective containers until I could provide them with the heavenly herbal habitat that was due them. I love(d) my herbs! Of course I would think nothing less than to provide them with the best! They have every vegetations right to life, love, and the pursuit of happiness! Or at least the right to enjoy all previous rights until I deem it necessary to eat them. That time is coming more quickly than previously anticipated.

Instead of planting them in the life-sapping inside-the-balcony window box just to remove them and plant them elsewhere, thus disrupting their fragile roots and stems, all that came about of my executive decision as the rightful owner of these heinous herbals was to prolong their planting until their own Eden had been created.

Did they take to that idea?

How about a resounding "No!"

I set them upon the wide ledge of our balcony in order to give them the fullest sunlight for the longest period of time, as much and for as long as I could possibly give. There were no other options. None.

Late one afternoon, three days after setting them upon the wide-as-Aunt Bertha's-hips ledge, Michael and I arrived home from work. There on the bottom steps of our staircase, on the cold hard, SUNLESS, concrete steps in a fiberous mess of leaves and stems lay my nemesis beloved Basil. Dear sweet Basil had flung himself off the Bertha ledge in an unprecedented attempt to end it all. We had arrived too late to save one large stem, but fortunately for Basil, he still has a promising life left yet to live. I know he can move past this tragic event. He.will. If it kills me. If I have to spend every waking minute watching that beastly Basil, I will, I will offer life to him and he will LIKE IT. THAT DAMN PLANT WILL SUCK IT UP AND LIVE.

I lovingly placed him back on the ledge, albeit a bit closer to the apartment. four days later, as we were leaving to go to my parents house, I noticed that the ledge seemed a bit.... sparse. Thinking nothing of it but that I had separated the perps in order to prevent conspiracy, I locked the door and we headed down to the car. Suddenly my life came crashing to a halt. There, on the bottom cold, hard, and concrete steps, er, cold hard and SUNLESS concrete steps lay two limp and lifeless aromatic plants. Parsley and Oregano. How could they? Parsley had long recovered from its tragic stem bending experience and Oregano, oh my dear sweet Oregano, you of all herbs, so lush and low, such an encouraging plant you are. You have such a great life!

I hurried them back up the stairs and placed them in the window box. In a desperate effort to ensure the safety of all my herbal hunnies, I placed each one in the window box. I scurried inside to fill some random vessel with water. Michael followed me halfway into the apartment but kept watch outside. As I filled said random vessel, out of the corner of my eye I caught Michael lunging out of the door to our balcony followed by a shout of "NO, DON'T DO IT!"

Sure enough, Rosemary the Dwarf had inched towards the ledge. I filled their containers with water, the better to weigh them down and hinder movement. As we drove to my parents I made an oath to buy window boxes at the earliest possible opportunity.

That evening we arrived home. I scoured the steps for any possible hints of attempted escape or suicide. I hesitantly made my way up the steps and rounded the top landing only to find that my fears were not yet to be set aside. There, in the window box, lay Basil and Parsley. Apparently as they could not fling themselves off the ledge, they did what they could to display their dissatisfaction. Sometimes I feel like my attempts are in vain. Why can they not embrace my love?

I went out the next day and bought two window boxes. The Rosemaries are now with the Lavender; Basil, Parsley, and Oregano are housed in their own window box. I wanted them to know I harbor no insult and that I can forgive, so I kept them with their comrades as best I could. As I am still lacking in over-the-wall brackets, I have placed the window-boxes on the ground.

I feel very victorious albeit defeated. They no longer have the ability to follow through with their suicidal plans..... of course, there's always a water-strike.

Mercy, cont'd

This bit is hodgepodge at its finest. A running dialogue if you will....

What does mercy look like when it's given to those who don't know they're in desperate need of it. If Christ died for me, did I as a young child know I needed it? No, but I know it now even if I had never been told it would save me. Something deep within me knows this world is not put to rights and I enmeshed in that. Putting me back to rights is happening right now and mercy given to the naive is doing that.

If you didn't know you needed mercy and you received it, can you fully embrace what you've been given? Or should that person offer up forgiveness without informing you? I would think that if you forgive someone (are merciful), you should not inform them if they do not know what they have done. I imagine that being a little awkward. Although, if I parked in someone's spot at work and heard about it from someone else and the person in whose parking spot I placed my car has not mentioned anything, just then I've been given mercy that I didn't know I needed and I am very grateful. Does that bode the same if it's a person I don't like? I say yes.

14 words.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Mercy.

Can one comprehend mercy? What does mercy look like? What does it feel like? What does the person giving it (0r God) gain? How do they feel? It's not free, there is a cost to the one bestowing it. What is that cost to the person; not the Greatest Debt Paid but the internal emotional or even literal cost?

For the person asking it and hopefully receiving it, mercy is life. Mercy feels like clear, clean, crisp water for a parched tongue. Mercy feels like true love. Mercy is the key that unlocks the chains that have us constricted and breathless. Mercy is the sword that slices through our fetters. When I'm asking for mercy, my heart and soul are in anguish. The muscles around them seize up and restrict all of my abilities. When the words of mercy are given, my lungs swell and my soul breathes the deepest breaths it can handle. When the words of mercy are given, sometimes I don't want to know the cost to the other person; the cost when I must give mercy is the torment of the soul for the time leading up to the gift. I would avoid causing anything that would require mercy as I know that process they must go through. Mercy is a great love.

*nota bene: do those who give mercy in the justice system and do those mechanically give mercy realize they are loving that person? Every act of mercy is an act of love. I wonder how many do not realize how much they are loving?*

More to come...

Just some random pictures with their captions

Mmhmm. Sometimes you just need some silliness.



see more crazy cat pics



see more crazy cat pics



see more crazy cat pics



see more crazy cat pics

Sometimes...

Sometimes -

I get tired of being me. I get tired of being sensitive and emotional. Sometimes I want that freedom I associate with not caring.

I wish that when I speak, I did not slow down to think of the words or hesitate between them. I speak like I write. It's easier that way. I'm sure it frustrates people when I'm talking, when I slow down after a word and frantically search for the one(s) to follow.

Words escape me. My vocabulary is slowly turning into a sludge of words that are combinations of Italian, English, and gibberish. This must contribute to the previous "Sometimes."

Jealousy permeates my being. This next part is somewhat sick in the head, but when it rises up within me, I acknowledge it but then take great joy in smacking it around and kicking it out. Maybe that's not doing much.

Being me is much more hard than it is to be someone else. I struggle with clinging to what is "me" and discarding what is not "me." That politeness which I was raised with still overrides how I would normally react. This is good in many cases but in the moments when I should be absolutely vulnerable, there is an internal duel to decide how "me" will appear. This is an innate part of me then, sometimes it is best just to realize that this is how I work and I must take the internal duel as part of how I work. Just thought of that. Interesting...

I wish this wedding monster would get off my back. Driving to work today I realized that part of the aforementioned "me" is tucked away until its time to come out arrives. That time to arrive will likely not come until after life settles down post-wedding. I have a vision of lying in bed in the early morning and not moving. Of not thinking about anything but the body next to me and what I want to do that day. Of taking my rudimentary painting skills to the next level. Of reading a book that I really want to read. Like a Vince Flynn CIA novel. I envision settling down in front of the tv or next to a window and crocheting until my fingers get tired or I have lost interest or my stitches stupefy even me. Whichever comes first. Sometimes I allow myself to dream that my creative side will rise up. That even though I'm a terribly painter (no really, it's pathetic), a mediocre ceramic thrower, and a so-so cook/baker, I will take off and bloom once my life blends and settles down. My home will be filled with my fun paintings and I won't care what people will think of them. We will use dinnerware that I created and decorate with my own vases. Our home will smell divine and Michael will be the prime example of my cooking abilities.

When I start speaking, I should just shut up. I'm much too eager to contribute to the conversation. It's this deep desire to let the other person know they are not alone or that we have this thin thread to share. While that's nice on paper (or screen) it's unlikely I convey myself that way.

It is only after the person has ended the conversation that I realize I finally understood what they were trying to say. Typically that's a couple hours later. Usually it's when someone approaches me for conversation and I'm engrossed in something else or have my mind occupied with many other thoughts and while I should focus on the person in front of me, my mind runs rampant and only eons later do I realize they needed something or wanted to share something. I still stand by my firm belief that it is never too late. This is why many times I will bring up the other person's conversation topic days later. *Chuckle. Nevah, Nevah, Nevah, Nevah, Nevah, Nevah, NEVAH, Give up!

I want to be enveloped by a song. This is why I love to dance. I don't like "fast" dancing or whatever it is they do to pop songs, but I love waltzing and sashaying, and twirling. I love being involved in the song. I never know what to do with my hands though. This is probably a great contributor to why I dance only when I have a partner. Speaking of which, would you believe but Michael likes to dance with me? Well... I don't know so much that he likes it but that he tolerates it. I think he sees how much I love it and for that he will dance with me.

This is quite private, this next bit, but maybe it's because I worked with Option Line, or maybe I just like being free with information, but I am now on birth control. They said it would be best if I started before our wedding night so if I needed to change the type we had plenty of time. Plainly put, this is a big deal for me. All my adolescent and young adult life I have carried the abstinence banner proudly. I realize that some girls are on bc because their body needs regulation. But for me, for this young girl, I never need birth control. I listened to my parents, I heeded their instructions. I love the Lord and cherish my wedding night. Starting birth control is giving up that innocence. I'm one step closer to shedding this young girl that I've always been. It might seem silly to everyone else, but to me, to me I am in mourning. I am burying a piece of my identity.


When I start writing, "me" reappears to reassure me that "I'm" still around.

N.T. Wright: a discussion on heaven.

Here's the link to the TIME article with N.T.Wright, the Bishop of Durham, on the subject of the distortion of heaven in the eyes of mainstream Christianity. The article follows.

Thursday, Feb. 07, 2008

Christians Wrong About Heaven, Says Bishop

By David Van Biema

N.T. "Tom" Wright is one of the most formidable figures in the world of Christian thought. As Bishop of Durham, he is the fourth most senior cleric in the Church of England and a major player in the strife-riven global Anglican Communion; as a much-read theologian and Biblical scholar he has taught at Cambridge and is a hero to conservative Christians worldwide for his 2003 book The Resurrection of the Son of God, which argued forcefully for a literal interpretation of that event.

It therefore comes as a something of a shock that Wright doesn't believe in heaven — at least, not in the way that millions of Christians understand the term. In his new book, Surprised by Hope (HarperOne), Wright quotes a children's book by California first lady Maria Shriver called What's Heaven, which describes it as "a beautiful place where you can sit on soft clouds and talk... If you're good throughout your life, then you get to go [there]... When your life is finished here on earth, God sends angels down to take you heaven to be with him." That, says Wright is a good example of "what not to say." The Biblical truth, he continues, "is very, very different."

Wright, 58, talked by phone with TIME's David Van Biema.

TIME: At one point you call the common view of heaven a "distortion and serious diminution of Christian hope."

Wright: It really is. I've often heard people say, "I'm going to heaven soon, and I won't need this stupid body there, thank goodness.' That's a very damaging distortion, all the more so for being unintentional.

TIME: How so? It seems like a typical sentiment.

Wright: There are several important respects in which it's unsupported by the New Testament. First, the timing. In the Bible we are told that you die, and enter an intermediate state. St. Paul is very clear that Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead already, but that nobody else has yet. Secondly, our physical state. The New Testament says that when Christ does return, the dead will experience a whole new life: not just our soul, but our bodies. And finally, the location. At no point do the resurrection narratives in the four Gospels say, "Jesus has been raised, therefore we are all going to heaven." It says that Christ is coming here, to join together the heavens and the Earth in an act of new creation.

TIME: Is there anything more in the Bible about the period between death and the resurrection of the dead?

Wright: We know that we will be with God and with Christ, resting and being refreshed. Paul writes that it will be conscious, but compared with being bodily alive, it will be like being asleep. The Wisdom of Solomon, a Jewish text from about the same time as Jesus, says "the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God," and that seems like a poetic way to put the Christian understanding, as well.

TIME: But it's not where the real action is, so to speak?

Wright: No. Our culture is very interested in life after death, but the New Testament is much more interested in what I've called the life after life after death — in the ultimate resurrection into the new heavens and the new Earth. Jesus' resurrection marks the beginning of a restoration that he will complete upon his return. Part of this will be the resurrection of all the dead, who will "awake," be embodied and participate in the renewal. John Polkinghorne, a physicist and a priest, has put it this way: "God will download our software onto his hardware until the time he gives us new hardware to run the software again for ourselves." That gets to two things nicely: that the period after death is a period when we are in God's presence but not active in our own bodies, and also that the more important transformation will be when we are again embodied and administering Christ's kingdom.

TIME: That is rather different from the common understanding. Did some Biblical verse contribute to our confusion?

Wright: There is Luke 23, where Jesus says to the good thief on the cross, "Today you will be with me in Paradise." But in Luke, we know first of all that Christ himself will not be resurrected for three days, so "paradise" cannot be a resurrection. It has to be an intermediate state. And chapters 4 and 5 of Revelation, where there is a vision of worship in heaven that people imagine describes our worship at the end of time. In fact it's describing the worship that's going on right now. If you read the book through, you see that at the end we don't have a description of heaven, but, as I said, of the new heavens and the new earth joined together.

TIME: Why, then, have we misread those verses?

Wright: It has, originally, to do with the translation of Jewish ideas into Greek. The New Testament is deeply, deeply Jewish, and the Jews had for some time been intuiting a final, physical resurrection. They believed that the world of space and time and matter is messed up, but remains basically good, and God will eventually sort it out and put it right again. Belief in that goodness is absolutely essential to Christianity, both theologically and morally. But Greek-speaking Christians influenced by Plato saw our cosmos as shabby and misshapen and full of lies, and the idea was not to make it right, but to escape it and leave behind our material bodies. The church at its best has always come back toward the Hebrew view, but there have been times when the Greek view was very influential.

TIME: Can you give some historical examples?

Wright: Two obvious ones are Dante's great poetry, which sets up a Heaven, Purgatory and Hell immediately after death, and Michelangelo's Last Judgment in the Sistine chapel, which portrays heaven and hell as equal and opposite last destinations. Both had enormous influence on Western culture, so much so that many Christians think that is Christianity.

TIME: But it's not.

Wright: Never at any point do the Gospels or Paul say Jesus has been raised, therefore we are we are all going to heaven. They all say, Jesus is raised, therefore the new creation has begun, and we have a job to do.

TIME: That sounds a lot like... work.

Wright: It's more exciting than hanging around listening to nice music. In Revelation and Paul's letters we are told that God's people will actually be running the new world on God's behalf. The idea of our participation in the new creation goes back to Genesis, when humans are supposed to be running the Garden and looking after the animals. If you transpose that all the way through, it's a picture like the one that you get at the end of Revelation.

TIME: And it ties in to what you've written about this all having a moral dimension.

Wright: Both that, and the idea of bodily resurrection that people deny when they talk about their "souls going to Heaven." If people think "my physical body doesn't matter very much," then who cares what I do with it? And if people think that our world, our cosmos, doesn't matter much, who cares what we do with that? Much of "traditional" Christianity gives the impression that God has these rather arbitrary rules about how you have to behave, and if you disobey them you go to hell, rather than to heaven. What the New Testament really says is God wants you to be a renewed human being helping him to renew his creation, and his resurrection was the opening bell. And when he returns to fulfil the plan, you won't be going up there to him, he'll be coming down here.

TIME: That's very different from, say, the vision put out in the Left Behind books.

Wright: Yes. If there's going to be an Armageddon, and we'll all be in heaven already or raptured up just in time, it really doesn't matter if you have acid rain or greenhouse gases prior to that. Or, for that matter, whether you bombed civilians in Iraq. All that really matters is saving souls for that disembodied heaven.

TIME: Has anyone you've talked to expressed disappointment at the loss of the old view?

Wright: Yes, you might get disappointment in the case where somebody has recently gone through the death of somebody they love and they are wanting simply to be with them. And I'd say that's understandable. But the end of Revelation describes a marvelous human participation in God's plan. And in almost all cases, when I've explained this to people, there's a sense of excitement and a sense of, "Why haven't we been told this before?"

I wanted to title this "An essay on the life of a wedding." but it's really, "How we plan our wedding."

I had this big plan for telling you all about the life of a wedding and how I wanted to name the life "Minerva (or a big fat tack stuck to my rear end) but that might actually be a whole other post and I have started this one and proceeded too far to change it all around now. And I'm antsy to put a post up. I would have liked to have written it all out and actually given an essay on Minerva, but this is much easier and there is no desire to go through all that agony again was a bit more fun.

How we plan our wedding (sounds like we've had several and it sure feels like it). As experienced by Michael and Sarah.

1. Promise that under no circumstances will you cave to the gods of the wedding industry. From here on out it is, "Screw the wedding industry."
   
2. Set the date. Spend lots of time pouring over the calendar in the hopes that family does not have conflicts with the dates picked.
3. Head back to the calendar when dates picked to conflict with family plans.
   
4. Repeat #2 as many times as it takes until correct access code (i.e. date) is entered and move forward.
   
5. Encourage as many people as possible to save this date without actually saving it so that in case #2 pops up, nothing was yet solidified.
   
6. Start picking out colors. Realize that colors don't matter a whit and yet they're a nasty necessity. Silently pick out black and gray just by spite. Ours turned out to be deep red and something. Never did quite figure out the complementary color.
   
7. Make up the guest list. This will takes years hours and hours so settle down with a large diet coke, popcorn, and make sure bride and groom have settled all aggravations between them so that guest selection does not incite bursts of argument. We took turns and just listed everyone we knew. E-v-e-r-y-o-n-e. I mean, of course they're going to want to come to our wedding, we're amazing! (but really, we did want as many people to come and share in this time. We would use force if necessary (or bribery))
8. Make up the bridesmaid list. Think of a few new words for "agony." How does "excruciating" sound?
9. Think up a preliminary shower list.
   
10. Send off guest list to parental units so they can fill in addresses. Parents have address books. Plus, whoever they add to the list will probably be the aunts and uncles and cousins whom you haven't seen in years and yet will cause centuries of strife if they aren't invited. So basically the parents will save the day.
11. Search for endless hours for a church to get married in. If you really really thought it through, you might reconsider your homechurch and forget the fact that it's 3 hours away from someone elses home. The endless hours will be just that.
    
12. Silently scream for hours on end that this is getting ridiculous. Keep searching for a church.
13. Visit a few, think "ok, this will work." Find out that churches are INSANELY expensive and make a mental note to stress to anyone you know that they must give their tithes. (not interested in discussion on how a tithe is God's money. I realize that. I also realize that realistically, that money is going into the church's upkeep and if everyone who attended church gave their tithe, WE WOULDN'T HAVE TO PAY $1500 FOR A 30MIN CEREMONY!)
14. Insert "Reception Location" in lieu of church for #8-10 and omit the part of about tithing.
    
15. Start inwardly groaning every time anyone brings up your wedding. Silently wish they would drop through a hole in the floor. Smile.
    
16. Realize that you are slowly being overcome by the wedding industry. Come to grips with the fact that #1 will have some addendums. Realize you can't actually stick it to the wedding industry and in some situations they are kinda right. Hate yourself for thinking that.
    
17. Go dress shopping. This will be a silver lining (yes, there are more silver linings to come) in the dim world of weddingness.
18. Find the dress of your dreams and wonder why in the world have you never considered one like it before. It's gorgeous.
    
19. Mention the dress anytime anyone wants to bring up your wedding and asks how the planning is going. Gush on and on about the dress until the person no longer wants to talk about the wedding and forgets why they wanted to talk to you in the first place. Works everytime.
    
20. Pre-marital counseling will be a time to hear the comrade lover brag and boast about you to other people. It will also be a time to share just why you are getting married. It's pretty cool. (DISCLAIMER: Michael and I work very well together, we use all parts of our mental capabilities, although the P-MC is treated lightly here it's only because we've worked very hard at our relationship and I think we've earned the right to speak humourously about it).
21. Start planning what you will serve at the reception. This will have been discussed when looking at reception halls, planning the colors, etc. But really, there will be a separate, equally grueling discussion on this when the parents are pulled in. Best to both be united on what foods will be served.)
22. Look at bridesmaids dresses. Groan in agony that you really wanted black but you might do red but if you do red you can't have red roses and lord knows you want red roses and they do not look good against red dresses and GASP, the carpeting in that ridiculously expensive church you want is red and red dresses and red flowers on a red carpet just.won't.do. Look at styles. Do you want them to match your dress? Why would you want them to match your dress? It's y.o.u.r. dress! But matching would be neat! Screw neat. They're dresses. Go strapless. Go tea length. Pull your hair out trying to find strapless tea-length dresses from the same designer that's making your dress, look at other places, almost curse those other designers for making lame dresses that make bridesmaids look like grandmothers. Wonder who in their right mind would design a dress that NOBODY WANTS TO WEAR! For the millionth time you pull close to you the mantra of #1. and then push it away for a bit while you try to figure out what colors the bridesmaids dresses could be in order to make everything pretty.
    
23. Decide to go black. Black is chic, the LBD is a powerful option for a woman to have. If it's in her closet she's ready to go.
    
24. Pat yourself on the back.
    
25. Go to book the reception hall. Refrain because it just doesn't feel right.
    
26. Repeat #25 several times. Relax when this is explained to amazing hubby-to-be and he ends up trusting you more than you trust yourself and says it's ok to wait.
    
27. Look for more churches. E-mail every church you find that has an e-mail. Visit the ones who don't respond. Spend time wondering about the distance between ceremony and reception. Groan again when you realize the church you can use is too far away.
    
28. Receive e-mails stating that
    
1. although your wedding is on a Friday, the church does not perform more than one ceremony.
   
2. You must use their pastor.
3. You're not a member so sorry.
4. it's $1500 and that doesn't include a diamond bracelet.
   
29. Realize you still have a honeymoon to plan.
30. ealize you have no place to live once you get married.
31. Realize you can't find a place to live until you get this monster off your back that everyone keeps referring to as a wedding.
    
32. Hold the hand of your comrade lover and hope that somehow you are spending more time preparing for marriage than planning a wedding. Hope that wedding planning counts towards that.
    
33. Bang your head on the desk when you realize you haven't done anything non-wedding related in forever and that all you really want to do is curl up on the couch and read a book but you have no time to do so and are sapped of what energy you might have used to do so. And really, the stress is too great to even think of taking time off to read a book. Sheesh, that's for retired people!
    
34. Chuckle when you realize that when you and the hubs joked about your parents finally meeting at the wedding, you didn't actually believe what you said but now it's looking like it. Maybe that's best.
    
35. Decide it's not best and invite them to lunch at a spanish restaurant in town in the hopes that a neutral territory will ensure a peaceful time. Bank on it.
    
36. Go to the luncheon. Forget to tell all parental units that you do not, under any circumstances, desire in any way shape or form to speak of the wedding. Yeah, just let that one completely slip your mind. I mean, don't even give it a nanosecond of a chance to form. They're meeting for the first time. Of course they won't want to. Of course they will spend the entire time talking about you and Michael when you were kids and what life is like now they are all grown up. Naturally it won't occur to them to even bring up the slightest little hint of a wedding. The thought will be the furthest thing from your min.
37. Order a beer when you realize there is only one thing they will speak of at the luncheon. One thing. There will be only ONE THING they want to talk about. Guess? I mean, I know I know, I haven't even given you the slightest hint as to what that might be. But do, please do, take a gander. Just throw something out there. "Wedding" did you say? Really? You have a plethora of possibilities and you pick "wedding"? Cheater.
38. Start a drinking at the Sunday afternoon luncheon. Every time anyone mentions anything related to "wedding" one swig is allowed.
    
39. Wonder how many beers that's going to be. Oh. It's going to be a lot.
40. Limit yourself to the one bottle. Ticking off your parents is one thing, they'll forgive. Let's not push it with the future in-laws. It was pure luck that that last snippy comment made about something someone said about the wedding was only noticed by Michael.
    
41. Kick yourself when you let another one slip but refuse to put the drink down.
    
42. Dash headlong through the doors to freedom. Walk out with the family and know that they mean well and they really love you and they're only bringing this up because they care.
    
43. Holler the whole way home that "you can't believe they did that and OMGosh what were they thinking and HOLY CRAP was that the luncheon from h..(parents, if you are reading this I am only using this to bring in a wider demographic reading audience. Or just an audience at all. Thank you so much for the next part.)"
    
44. Stand in shock when the love of your life looks you straight in the eyes (once home) and says, "Sarah, I could really go to Scotland." That line was previously said but you were sure he was joking and yet now he's standing in front of you in all seriousness.
    
45. Let minutes tick off the clock while holding your breath.
    
46. Exhale. Inhale.
    
47. Suddenly the blood starts pumping again and some serious lightheadedness takes place. Scotland.
48. Jump up and down and all around when it's realized that nothing has been booked, bought (aside from the dress) or ordered. Hoot and holler while the dream becomes reality.
    
49. Speak breathlessly while frantically grasping at anything that might prohibit this dream from manifesting itself.
    
50. Kiss and hug and shout with joy as you and the groom-to-be finally find yourselves again.
    
51. Begin the real wedding planning. (and spend lots of time thanking your parents for being just who they are. Wonder in amazement that they are even letting you do this and never ever ever forget to remind them how priceless this is to you."
    

A Conversation.

It's been on my heart to call up a very dear friend of mine; unfortunately time and energy has had to be directed elsewhere. Fortunately Christ has been on her heart as much as he has been on mine, only she just acted on it and contacted me via that beautiful creation which is google talk. Here's something I don't think she'd mind if I shared from our conversation, it's me writing to her, responding to her desire to hear my heart. The reason I am posting this is because it's a very clear, concise description of what's going on in my heart right now. So I must thank her immensely for asking and allowing me to share.

I just want to share what is happening with the wedding plans, the pain of people's reactions when they stand back and their faces reflect the shock they are verbally expressing at how soon we are getting married. Instead of sharing in the joy that is us and Christ bringing us into a union with Him.

I wanted to share the frustration of people not understanding how good Michael and I are together. How we really function as a unit and work at our relationship. How we're not basing this relationship on emotion but a deep understanding that we believe this is what Christ wants for us, this is the best that he wants to give us and how we work so well as people, let alone as a couple who dearly love each other.

I wanted to talk about how wonderful it is that I am a bride! I'm getting married to the man I never dared dream might exist. How wonderful it is that I get an experience that is directly related to how we as the bride of Christ will feel on the day He comes again for us.

I wanted to talk about how nervous I get at moments but when I think that Mic is going to be my husband and we are going to learn to work even better together, I am filled with peace and joy and excitement.

I wanted to talk about how we'll fight as a married couple, how he'll drive me insane at moments, but how we'll get through the fires and and how we'll go on at the point so many couples turn back and say it's not worth it.

The Engagement

Note!: This is long. This is long and there's a ton of detail and I tend to change tenses. But it's my story and I can tell it any way I want! Read at your own desire!

- How it all began.

Michael planned a most impressive proposal set up. The Sunday before Thanksgiving we headed down to my hometown for some family time and horseback riding. While I attended a friend’s bridal shower, he sat nervously at my parents’ house, waiting for the opportune moment to ask them for my hand. While I waited 20 minutes for him to pick me up from aforementioned shower, he answered the questions my parents had for him and received affirmation that my parents would not interfere in our marriage (such as: if I ever got so mad at him that I went home to my parents, they’d console me and then set me straight back on the road to him, there would be no “wicked in-laws,” etc). So with their blessing he left to pick me up at the shower. Where I had sat for 20 minutes. Irked beyond everything that I had to wait. I’m 25, I'm annoyed patient. I'm not good at waiting. He was very apologetic and begged me not to be mad at my parents (I knew it was their fault). Looking back I now know why he insisted on me not railing at them when I got home. I just figured they wouldn’t stop talking (which is true but not because of them being the, “aging, forgetful, digressing, and generally talkative parents” I thought.)

Wednesday morning he bringsup the idea that we should go horseback riding at my parents the next morning. I immediately want that idea as far away from his thought process as possible, but wanting to be the girlfriend who supports her man and does not immediately squelch any ideas he comes up with, I manage an indifferent, “oh… really?” Oh really. He wanted to, very much, very, very much. We end the phone call and I mull over it some more at work (the “mulling” consisted of me thinking, “How in the world can I convince him not to go horseback riding?”). Later that night he gives me a call, after some small conversation, I can’t help but remember that we’re to be very honest with one another, so this is how the rest of the call went:


Me: Babe (very humbly) I love you, but I’m going to veto the idea of horseback riding.

(You might as well have told him Obama had chosen Giuliani as a running mate.)

Mic: WHAT?!

(Pause.)

Babe, come on, it’ll be horseback riding before Thanksgiving, how neat would that be?!”

(Pause)

Me: Mic, please, I really don’t want to go, I don’t think it’ll be any fun at all. I don’t want to go.

At this point Mic notes to me that he’s almost at my house (we’re going to B&N for something).

We hang up but the conversation continues in the truck on the way over.

Me: Look, I’ll give you four reasons why we shouldn’t go horseback riding in the few hours before we go to Leslie and Richard’s for Thanksgiving. (I hold up four fingers, serious as a heart attack, and tick them off accordingly) One, the horses will be muddy and it’ll take us a half hour to get them tacked up. Two, we have one bathroom for seven people, we’ll be dirty, the natives will be running around chaotically, it’ll take forever to get ready. Three, we’ll be pressed into service, the H.M.S Wakefield is a beastly ship and we’ll be relegated to the galley. Four, the transport system works as such on the ship: Whoever has transportation, transports. We’ll end up with some random kid or food product. Wait, I’ve got five! We’ll be late!

After this he turns to me, grabs my hand emphatically and looks lovingly into my eyes.

Mic: Sarah, I’ve worked 12 hour days these last two weeks, I just want to enjoy my Thanksgiving. Horseback riding is something I really want to do, can we please do it this? I’ll even call your mother.

Me, with an, “I dare you” tone to my voice: Do it.

He calls my mom and I can hear her agreeing (traitor!) over the phone, she’ll even have the horses ready in the morning. I halt their conversation to make sure that the above possibilities are not in the contract for horseback riding. Ultimatums are the only assurance in the household. If you want to do something or get something done, issue and ultimatum and by golly, you’ll get to do it, your way. Their conversation ends with the agreement that it will all go smoothly. (yeah, whatever!)

I turn to him: If any of the above instances occur, I get an infinite amount of “I told you so’s.”

Amazingly he agrees, and slowly the guilt of treating this event so harshly begins to grow. I refuse to apologize yet though. I have the satisfaction of “I told you so” and I am not giving that up, yet the sinking feeling that all will will go smoothly starts to hit me. Slightly grumpily I realize once again that getting my way, no matter what I've gotten, always turns out to work against me in the end. Nuts.

The next morning he arrives 10min early and we fly down to Bremen. I vocalize my apologies for having a bad attitude and silently give myself a good talking-to the whole ride home. I will enjoy this horseback ride. What kind of sister and daughter and girlfriend am I? It hits me that I’m a terrible person. Mentally I hang my head. My boyfriend wants to visit my family more than I do! What kind of message does that send to my parents and siblings? Well, way to go Wake! I promise myself that I will enjoy this time with my family, I do love them! All Mic wanted to do was enjoy the holiday! By the time we arrive I am in full family appreciation mode. This is going to be a good day.

We arrive and the horses are completely tacked up, warmed up, and fitted with halters and lead ropes, something we haven’t done in years. I take note but it’s nothing too out of the ordinary. Mom has the horses all warmed up and ready to go, so we head out to the fields. He's on Doc and I'm riding Shadow.

Shadow is quite possibly the most romantic horse possible. He's a light dapple gray (a light gray horse with dark gray pigmentation in the shape of circles that gives a dappled appearance. Which he is, since he’s a dapple gray. And this description definitely takes the romance out of moment) Arabian/Saddlebred cross (not a National Show Horse) with an amazing personality. Ellie, my 10 year old sister is his primary rider (I should say his “dominant” rider, seriously, she’s a force to be reckoned with) and he obediently listens to every command she issues. The poor ol’ chap is whipped (not literally, although the crop is kept by her side at all times). What this all means is that he listens really well and loves to be ridden by adults, granted Ellie is probably the best and most amiable rider he could ever dream of having. Doc is my brother Caleb’s horse, a good quarterpony with solid conformation and a good head on his shoulders. He and Mic seem to have hit it off magnificently and I think Doc prefers Mic to me, which is actually kinda cool. My man’s got horse sense.

So I’m cantering around the fields, having a great time on Shadow (mom used to tell me he’s the horse any girl should be riding when they meet their man, guess she was onto something) and Michael comes along with me for a quick canter and then veers west over our hayfield. I join up with him down at the low end of the field and he offers up the idea of going on the path in the forest next to us. A few years ago my mother had a terrible riding accident (a horse flipped over backwards on her) on the ridge of that path and although we’re always ones to get back on the horse after we’ve been bucked off, it’s a path we haven’t been to ready to take, although we have walked it numerous times. Michael brings up the fact that Mom said she’d just cleared it and I agree to head on down. I did promise him it would be a good day.

As we head down the path through the woods I notice that it’s really clear. Very clear. And I also notice that the leaves on the path are recently rustled and the multiflora rose bush branches are all freshly broken. Michael shushes me with an exasperated, “Oh just keep going!” All in all though, I’m just doing it to show off my superior tracking skills. And I know all the stopping and pointing out things will drive him nuts. I find it pretty humorous So I mentally take note of who to trust if we ever get lost outdoors refrain from pointing out anything else. Spoilsport. You can definitely tell who's seen Last of the Mohicans in this relationship. At the bottom of the hill (the path goes down into a valley within the woods) we cross the creek and I continue on leading. It’s a wonderful ride and the horses are behaving beautifully. Shadow really is a dream to ride. It strikes me that it’s Thanksgiving morning, we’re riding horses, we’re riding horses through woods that are very special to me (I spent most of my pre-teen through early college spare time riding or walking through these woods), and well, we are close to an engagement. I hear him halt his horse and I do the same, turning around in my saddle to see what’s up. I can’t help but grin at the thought that this might be “the day.” He looks around and without making eye contact mentions that it’s, “Very beautiful out here.” I look around and honest to goodness think, “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s November, it’s cold, it’s bleak, and it’s dreary. Beautiful?” But if Michael’s bringing it up, you know it’s for a good reason. I acknowledge likewise and can’t keep myself from grinning that this is getting terribly suspicious. I put the thought aside though, there’s no sense in building up an occasion for something that might not happen. Back to riding.

Michael takes the lead and I’m refrain from spouting off, “Hey you! You don’t know where you’re going, get behind the trail master!” Really there’s no way to get lost and if he wants to lead, so be it. Eventually we get to the end of the trail; the property ends at the edge of a neighbor’s yard about 100 yards ahead. I go to turn around and he stops, telling me we should tie the horses up and walk a bit. Well, hey, if he wants to, why not!? So we dismount and tie our horses up. I ask if he knows how to do the slipknot/safety knot and he retorts like he’s been doing it his whole life. Really there’s nothing unusual about a non equestrian knowing these things, Michael’s a pretty smart guy and he knows things. Plus he’s really good at giving off the impression he knows things. (sidenote: he's really good at that.)

As we start walking around, I begin to get a little nervous. We’re walking, not very intentionally, and certainly with a very slow pace. It really can’t be called a pace, it’s more like a shuffle. As I start babbling about not getting out of sight of the horses a lilting tune begins echoing off the hills. To my amazement a bagpiper’s (bagpipes!) tune fills the air and my heart begins to skip and the beats take up my entire being. It’s as though Scotland is here and now. Michael pulls me to face him and looks deep into my eyes. He tells me that he loves me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me. As he gets down on one knee I am struck with the realization that “the moment” is happening right in front of me. The next scenes pass as though in a dream, he’s very pale and shaky and getting down on one knee. Then he pulls a box from his pocket and from it takes a most gorgeous diamond ring. With a very emotionally-charged voice he asks me if I will marry him. The moment has fully arrived. Full of nervousness and joy I stare in shock and say, “Yes!”

I’m going to fast forward past all of the rest of the moment, it’s very precious and whilst I would share it with all of you, I must keep it for my own enjoyment.

The bagpiper switches to another tune, this time it’s, “Amazing Grace” (the first tune was “When Irish eyes are smiling”). We’re jumping up and down (ok, really, I’m doing all the jumping, he just appears relieved and very worn out) and hugging and all of that other lovely nonsense. Then suddenly it hits me like I’ve been run over by a train. I have just committed my life to someone. To Michael. I have just said yes to be his wife. My life as I know it is no longer. I slowly turn to him and as lovingly as possible give him some insight as to what is going on inside me, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

He chuckles and wraps his arms around me. “No babe, I’m really going to puke.” With the serious tone in my voice he realized I meant business. We move over to a fallen tree and take our seats. For the next 10 to 15 minutes we sit, I with my mouth gaping open and the blankest of blank looks upon my face, he with his arm around me, occasionally reaching up to close my ever open mouth. I pat his arm and tell him I love him, but I just can’t look at him. Honest to goodness I didn’t know whether I would throw up, cry, pee my pants, or do all three. He continues to sit beside me and hold me close. I hear him speaking words of love and encouragement to me, but I cannot keep them close enough to soak in. Then he says something that pierces through this cloud that has befogged me.

“Babe, we’ll get through this. We’ll get through this together because we always get through things together.”

Slowly that filters through and I grasp ahold of it. “We get through things together.” I’m not alone in this wretched moment. The cloud lifts and I glance over at him. My Michael. Yes, we get through things together. The cloud lifts more and with it joy comes in and I am struck with another solid thought. I get to marry him! He will be mine and I his forever! Oh how lucky and blessed can a girl be? Once again I am free and me and we hug and kiss again and now the real joy of being engaged sinks in permanently. Let the festivities begin!

We sit there in engaged bliss a few moments longer. Jordan, the young man who drove out to the middle of nowhere to play his bagpipe has left; we shouted our thanks to him and received our first, “Congratulations!” in response. The horses are getting restless, Shadow has managed to make his short lead long and has wound himself around the tree to the point that his face is plastered to the side of the trunk. There’s a muddy, leafy, and circular mess where Doc’s been tied up. I think he had it in his mind that if he were to be tied to this tree, the whole of the forest would know he’s been there. We mount up and head on out. The horses need no urging to bring the good news home (really, they’re not that barn sour!). As we make our way back to the homestead Michael tells me that he came down the day before (while I thought he was at work) and cleared the path with Mom, then took the horses on a ride down the path to make sure they were comfortable with it and to work out any quirks they hadn’t anticipated. Can you believe the planning he went through? He and I have very similar if not the same tastes in nearly everything, but he really sought to coordinate something that would mean something to both he and I. Something we would treasure.

When we get back everyone is waiting to hear the news. Like they didn’t know I’d say yes. It is a beautiful day indeed!


The End!

Why do we have weddings?

Hallelujah! This article lays down why we do not want to be engaged for months on end, why I don't care to send out invitations 6 weeks ahead of time, and why I am not turning our wedding into an ordeal. I wish the whole of society would read this and realize that increasing the complexity of a staged production does not increase the significance of the moment. You will not create a better marriage and intensify the covenant moment by upping the expense and extravagance of your wedding. That moment is intense because of what your two hearts are creating, not because of what has been created.

Please, do yourself a favor and give this article a read. Realize that you're only buying into insecurities (that apparently haven't been healed or addressed like you had hoped) and disillusions for creating a production that will impress you (which it never will), your fiance(e) (which it never will because you have kept them at a distance for however many months it took to coordinate this), or the guests, or the gods of marriage (of which there is only One and he cares more about your hearts and what is important to you and Him).

Things that irk me.

I realize that I should be posting something about my amazing fiance and how he proposed and how wonderful it is to know that I will one day take his name and he will one day be my husband and how being engaged to him is the greatest honor in the world.

Well my friends, today is not that day. Today is the day I list off a couple things that have been irking me.

• My name is Sarah. Not Shara, Sahra, Sara, it is Sarah. With the “h” at the end. If I send you an e-mail with my name appearing in the “From:” section that reads “Sarah Wakefield,” end it with “Thanks, Sarah Wakefield.” Have my signature appear at the bottom that reads “Sarah Wakefield.” WHAT PART OF THAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? Why do you send me an e-mail back saying, “Hey Sara….”? I have just spent most of the intro and all of the ending with the “h” attached to the end of my first name. Would you stop using my name in vain?! I just might not respond anymore to people who address me as “Sara.” Do I ever assume that you want me to spell your name any differently than what you have given? Do I take it upon myself to correct you and how you spell your name? Do I think to myself, “Oh, they must have forgotten that Susie is spelled with a ‘z’”? No, I trust that if you are old enough to be working and to be using the computer, you are old enough to know HOW YOU SPELL YOUR NAME!!! Granted when used vocally there is no real tried and true way of determining if they have mentally attached the “h” or not, but that’s not an issue. THE ISSUE IS THIS: when my parents named me before I emerged from the womb, when they then wrote my name on my birth certificate thus determining forever how I should be addressed, they wrote “Sarah” (plus the rest) and they assumed that all who interacted with me on a written level would respect their decision. So yes, that’s what I’m saying. When you knowingly desecrate the spelling of my name, you are knowingly laying insult against my parents.

Great, now you’ve insulted my intelligence and my family.

• YES I want to get married in 3 months. No I do not want to spend my time planning a $30,000 wedding for a year. Don't you realize that the only reason people wait a year is because 1) they don't know if they want to marry that person, 2) they're compensating for years of feeling like they were never their father's princess, 3) they've spent years believing they were a princess and care more about their wedding than investing that time and money in something that will last longer than 6 hours, 4) they're not out of school, 5) that's what everyone else is doing because they are dealing with #'s 1-4 and even 5.
• No, I am not pregnant. No, I have no hidden crimes I am running from. No, I am not an illegal immigrant and thus need a natural born citizen to marry so I might stay in America.
  
• No, I am not rushing him. I am not pushing him into a marriage he does not want. I am not begging to be married right away. We happen to really like each other. We have no reason to wait to get married. It's only going to drive us nuts. Get this: I would much rather get married in City Hall than have an elaborate fest of bows and ribbons and fake ornaments and fake elegant. I want real. He wants real. Together we're planning a very beautiful, very genuine (no curtains to cover up the messy plumbing of the hall, no fancy decorations to pretend it's a party (no one looks at those things in admiration anyway!), very honest wedding. We're signing a covenant between the two of us with our invited guests as witnesses. The covenant is a serious yet celebratory event. Please don't ask me to make my parents pay for something that will not last a lifetime like our marriage will. Flowers wilt, paper disintegrates, ribbons shred, everything gets old. I want to celebrate, I want to rejoice, but I want to do it without creating, without creating the "poser" atmosphere. I want it to be real.

That's all for now.

I'm stepping off my soapbox for a drink. Be back soon. O' wait, announcements and disclaimers.

• I'm engaged!!!!

• I realize that many of you have waited for longer than a year and while school may have not been a factor, something else was. Please know that I respect your decision and am just fired up at all those, Christians and non, who seem so shocked that we're marrying soon. As if we're creating some faux pas. We're a pure, honest, loving couple. We make a great pair. Were we in some sort of world war, waiting 3 weeks would be ridiculous. So back off it, it's nunya. Don't make me go ninja on you. I've about had it. I can't stress enough how irritated I get with people who go on about how long they were engaged, and how fun it was to plan the wedding. Plan the wedding? How about plan your lives together? Who cares about a program? No one is listening to the various instrumental and vocal performers! No one is going to stay in awe of the building you chose any longer than it takes for them to step out of the doors and onto the sidewalk. Your invited guests are there to celebrate sure, but they're not the bride or groom. All I care to do is walk down the aisle, make the covenant with my betrothed, and celebrate. Gussying up a building that I will not look at (as I will be staring intently into my beloved's eyes) for an audience that does not care about the ribbons, bows, flowers, etc, is a waste. I could never do that to my parents. And no, I am not downplaying the importance of a wedding, I'm just questioning and pointing fingers at everything we don't need and everything we do for the sake of appearances.
  

Shew.

Still don't feel like I'm finished, but ol' gal is thirsty.

Are You Kidding Me?

Maine is giving it's MIDDLE SCHOOL girls The Pill.

No joke. Apparently there's been a "rash of pregnancies" and so they're offering Birth Control instead of ABSTINENCE!

Middle School!

HELLO PARENTS, how about stepping up as such and taking your role as their PARENT. Quit trying to relate to them, quit trying to be their friend, quit avoiding the discipline.

You have got to be kidding me.

"We are dealing with children," said Diane Miller, a former school nurse said. "I am just horrified at the suggestion." You and me both, sister.

"I know I've done my job as a parent," Thompson said. "(But there) may be a time when she doesn't feel comfortable coming to me ... (and) not all these kids have a strong parental advocate at home." She might not feel comfortable coming to you? Right, and you think you've done your job? You would count yourself as one who is a strong parental advocate?

My frustration level just soared out the roof! Tell your boys to keep their pants zipped and your girls to keep their legs crossed. Open up those avenues of uncomfortable conversation and you will open up the avenues of vulnerability, they will come to you with the sensitive topics if you start talking about the sensitive topics- WHICH SHOULDN'T BE SENSITIVE TOPICS!

This is ridiculous! Middle school? Middle school?!!!!

"This isn't encouraging kids to have sex. This is about the kids who are engaging in sexually activity," Richard Veilleux said. Yuh, okay! Safe sex. That's what you're promoting. At that age when hormones are just starting to rage, you want to offer safe sex. Who doesn't want safe sex? What part about safe sex doesn't encourage sex? Sexually active people will continue to have sex because you're promising (or give the illusion of promising) that they can do it safely. Tell me I can continue to eat chocolate all the chocolate I want without gaining weight and I'm in! Tell my friend they can eat all the chocolate they want without gaining weight and even if I've never tasted that delectable treat before, oh, I'm definitely jumping on that train. (Sarah hits her "I'm-so-hungry-and-it's-after-noon/can't-take-anymore-of-this-agonizingly-moronic- hypocrisy/so-angry-I'm-seeing-stars" shock and keels over..... the smell of coffee awakens her)
CAN WE SAY "STDs"? Birth Control won't stop those! No babies does not mean, "Safe Sex." It just means a lack of pregnancy. And that's can't be guaranteed with birth control! The only 100% guaranteed means of safe sex (no pregnancy, no STD, no emotional bond) is NO SEX!

Oooo, what I would give to have those parents in a room together. Give them a good shaking, a real good dose of backbone, and a whole lotta chastity belts.

I need a diet coke right now.... and some chocolate, fat and all.

Adieu, bella donna.

One of Britain's most fair of ladies has bid farewell. Deborah Kerr, classiest of classy leading ladies of a bye-gone era has passed away.

I remember watching her in "The King and I," every fiber of my being longing to dance as she did in the post-banquet ballroom scene. Many times as a young girl (and once, partnerless, as a young lady on a moonlight and foggy beach) I would gallivant around the living room, stopping only when my lungs and legs were screaming for mercy. I had the honor of dancing in that manner, quite unexpectedly, with a friend during an "Aloha" party, barefoot and carefree, complete with the pang that it wasn't as perfect as it should have been. The friend would never be my knight, as the King of Siam would never fully be hers. It is still a treasure I shall never ever forget, although I do long for the opportunity to dance as she did, complete with her beautiful ballgown. There is nothing like dancing resplendent as a princess, the feel of luxurious fabric twisting and swishing and splaying out at each turn. Ah heaven, the hope you instill in all our hearts.

I remember catching glimpses of "An Affair to Remember" in the movie "Sleepless in Seattle." Finally, years after that first viewing, I rented "An Affair" and bawled my eyes out at the very end. The tragedy, the heartbreak, the hope and despair, all leading up to the most wonderful of endings.

"The Prisoner of Zenda." Oh what a glorious sword fighting, dueling, steal-the-heart-of-the-damsel movie! One of my guilty pleasure movies in which Kerr plays the most enviable role of a honorable, noble, and dutiful princess. (and the dresses!)

Thank you Deborah Kerr, for the heartbreaking roles you played, the dreams you set in the soul of this girl, and for always being a lady.



Movie I need to see: The End of the Affair.

Day in Scotland, compliments of Teitur.

While listening to"One and Only," a song about best friends and lovers, I found myself on a train in the late afternoon, coming home from a visit and journey. Rain beating on the windows, the cloud cover darkening the outdoors, the cold just outside; my head tilted back on the seat, my body facing towards damp and dark, a perfect cove created.

O what a beautiful ache.

Today on CNN

I don't want to be a downer but this time it's inevitable and, for some reason I believe, necessary.

This is what I found on a casual stroll through CNN's website today. I think I want to throw up. It's very doubtful anyone will want to follow the links to the articles but I'm putting the respective link up anyway.

Two young girls (under the age of 10. 10! YOU SICKO) were videotaped being sexually assaulted. Police have identified one, they are searching for the other. May the innocents get their justice; I hope he rots. (just one more reason I know there is a God- so many times I could care less about certain members of homo sapiens and would even rejoice at their death and dance on their grave (were they so lucky to have one) yet it is evidenced by that very presence of hatred that something stronger than that, something akin to a father's love, must exist. If I so feel loved all the time, then that love must cover them as well. Ooo I hate that so much! I want them to be hated, spit on, shunned, tortured, I want their very being to be despised. It speaks volumes to me that even the least have a chance. I want that God.)

Young children at a daycare center were found to have their mouths taped shut in order to silence them. This happened in Russia as well; Iraq orphanages were almost worse. This could be a sign you are not in the career field you need to be, ladies (although the word I'm thinking of rhymes with "witches.") Thankfully I am not God and so He can bestow mercy and grace upon you creeps; hopefully they realize how blessed they are that vengeance is the Lord's and not mine.

A young pup had to be euthanized after it was found nearly burned to death. Someone had doused the animal in gasoline and set fire to it. I would include animals in the innocents, we were given dominion over the earth, an entrusted dominion. We were placed in care of it, not to abuse it at will. The Michael Vick case is still all over the news so he's not included in this list as everyone already knows about it.

Everyone also knows about Warren Jeffs. At the age of 14 I was innocently working on chemistry homework, playing in the band, and babysitting. I was not being raped. No one ever deserves to be treated as having no soul and no heart (unless you are any of the aforementioned assailants), how can one look into another person's eyes and steel themselves against the creation inside? We are a selfish people, fixated on our own desires of success, all at the expense of (hmm, have I mentioned them before?) the innocents.

This young woman tried protecting herself. She had a restraining order issued against him. Yet someone insisted that their interests were superior to all else and she died because of it. Death happens and it happens to all of us. I hope whoever killed her realizes this and takes it in fully, as I've mentioned before, whoever you are, you might get on your knees and repent. I have not the heart to tear you apart thanks to Someone Who cares about you.

Monks are protesting in Myanmar and the government doesn't like it. So what do they do? They beat and kill 9 of the protesters. Someone has the government scared. I read a quote in Money magazine this morning, so Myanmar, listen up.

"There is nothing new in the world except the history you do not know."
--Harry Truman

Pay attention to what happens when you try to force your people to listen. Pay attention to the countries that are successful. Pay attention to what happens when unsuccessful countries work with violence to dominate. It. Never. Works. Any country that does not send the message that citizenship in the country means provision and protection, will have its inhabitants fleeing. If they're not safe at home, then where? AND QUIT WITH THE MURDER! Where was your grandmother when you needed a good spanking? Oh yeah, you probably did away with her too!

Touching on the above subject, 50+ people died in Iraqi insurgent attacks. They were all someone's relative, someone's "someone," and fear and selfishness killed them. How meaningless life would be unless someone cared about them. Someone Who would ensure they were loved, that they weren't just another number on the death tally. People, you've been forewarned, you have no idea Who you are messing with. He is mercy and love and justice (although so many times, the mercy and love give him a passive connotation. On the flip side, man's ideas of His justice have given Him the picture of hostility and ruthlessness and of choosing sides.)

I'm done for now. I've worn myself out.

Practiced Christianity- Worship

I cannot enjoy corporate worship as presented (note the "presented") by the stereotypical Protestant (low) church. In fact, I believe it would not be an understatement to say my spirit even rebels against said corporate worship. My soul desires raw, unpracticed, unscheduled, unrehearsed, and unaffected worship and praise of my Lord and Savior. I want a childlike worship of Christ, not a mature worship that is praised for its skilled performers and talented musicians. This includes those who would stand up at the altar and insist all attendees rise and lift their hands towards the Lord. Does not the Lord desire for us to be real before Him?

The Lord is neither pleased with a deceitful heart, no false humility. He created me to be as I am, a glorious creation as I am, and I cannot deny Him the praise He is due (and that which I long desperately to give) from an honest and true heart. To deny Him the praise which is unique to myself and only that which I can give is to blatantly disregard my God and flout my sinful nature, my prideful nature. Any praise and worship that is motivated only by pride, the careful examination of the actions of my peers, and the desire to impress is nothing short of utter rudeness and complete disobedience.

There is something to be said for the embarrassment of one's pride and the complete dismissal of pretentiousness as one's heart is brought before the Throne.

May I never be content with drinking milk like a child or speaking like one, but may the heart of a child and a childlike faith never be far from me.

Anselm

Apparently I relate best to one of the most brilliant minds of the Catholic Church in theology.

Sweet!

Wait a sec... I'm not Catholic!

As it is, this is quite interesting to me as I have never been one to delve deep into theology, although as a Christian I am automatically a theologian. Mayhap it is time to find out where I truly stand with regards to all of this.

Here's the Wikipedia entry on Anselm

You scored as Anselm, Anselm is the outstanding theologian of the medieval period.He sees man's primary problem as having failed to render unto God what we owe him, so God becomes man in Christ and gives God what he is due. You should read 'Cur Deus Homo?' Anselm 100% Charles Finney 73% Karl Barth 60% Jürgen Moltmann 40% Martin Luther 40% Augustine 33% Friedrich Schleiermacher 33% John Calvin 33% Paul Tillich 33% Jonathan Edwards 0% Which theologian are you? created with QuizFarm.com

Branded Slavery

So this guy in the UK decides to take a year's sabbatical from shopping for name-brand only merchandise. Quite frankly, I rarely ever, EVER, buy anything because of the brand. I only make purchases based on #1- Do I need it?, #2- Do I like it? If #1 isn't relative (i.e. jewelry, various accessories) then I head straight to #2.

There are allegiances to certain brands, Crest, Propel, Trader Joe's, and Skippy, that I have to say are based on their ability to perform (*chuckle, just had an image of a performing peanut butter), their ability to walk the walk and talk the talk.

This guy, while going to extremes that I'm not sure necessarily apply to myself, does raise some good concerns. It's an interesting article if you're bored- another one of the plethora of articles raising concern over how the earth is treated and how we as humans can do something else better.

Atomic Anguish

Very rarely do I ever read an article that focuses on human deformities. I feel it's an exhibition of someone's struggle in life; their own pain and suffering exploited for the "rest of us." As I am not physically deformed (no one can deny thought that what lies within is never perfect), taking notice and interest in articles such as the aforementioned are something I refuse to do. It's not a matter of denial and it's not a matter of not having the stomach for it; it's the matter of respect, it's my way of saying, "They (the afflicted persons) may not be like me, but they're human; they deserve any respect I can give them." It's the same as children with Down Syndrome and those who are blind; they do not want to be treated any differently.

This article caught my attention and led me to review it for one reason and one reason only: there is blame to lay and someone to fault. The ramifications for the actions in Kazakhstan are just the same as Chernobyl, nuclear fallout in Nagasaki and Hiroshima, the pollution infested rivers and lakes which in turn cause cancer and birth defects all over the world (I almost included the young blind man Christ heals in John 9:1-8 as he too could have blamed someone else (his parents) for his lack of sight; maybe I still will. The only reason for leaving him out of the above stemmed from Christ saying, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned..." I also did not include atrocities such as Darfur and the like as the children and adults who remain alive yet brutally disfigured were not born as such. Burn victims such as Yousiff were also born (forgive me for such a terribly incorrect term) "normal" and while the former and latter know exactly where to place the blame, at some point they had a fighting chance at life. Please forgive me for my callousness. )

I wanted to ignore this article on CNN as it was front and (leftish) center on the page. Who wants to be sucked into reading an article for it's "ooo" and "eww" factor"? If I'm going to read something, I want to read it because it's important, because if I do not read it I'll be an irresponsible and ignorant citizen of this world. Which is why after reading the tag-line, I gave myself permission to read more. Fury filled my veins and grief seared my heart. The children, like the others mentioned earlier, and the adults had no idea they were being blatantly destroyed by their government. Their government fully abused them with every intention to do so; they chose a place where the casualties could be dispensable and replaceable and no one would know until long after their "trial runs." Would that I had the fortitude to write what I really think of them, rhymes with "dastards."

Three things run through my mind right now. "God o' God, must they suffer?" "They (the government and the authorities in charge) should suffer as the people have, they must pay." And then, "I know forgiveness is supposed to be there. But how, how does one forgive after that? Not just a portion of their lives have been damaged or disrupted but their entire lives. From beginning to end." I am made aware of how easy it is for me to forgive, of how casually I can give it; how can they forgive? How can they get past an entire life filled with misery, how can the heart even separate itself from the physical damage to begin to mend? The two, in these cases, seem indivisible. To me there is no hope. And where there is no hope life ceases. Where life ceases to be, so does the importance of living. And therein is where I see no Jesus. I see no great plan where "the work of God might be displayed in (their) life."* Deep within I know He is there, deep within I know He cares, I know He is present in their suffering and their wounds are just as equally felt by Him. My soul within knows it but I can't see it. I. Can't. See. This must be where a deeper faith in Him and His love for this world takes the place of my physical vision. I do not sit on the sidelines now but I do have to trust that He is just as in charge and in control of their suffering as He is of my own non-suffering. This knowledge does not decrease the lust for vengeance; I still want to inflict pain and suffering. Just a work in progress I am.

*John 9:3. I do realize Jesus was speaking as this was for all to see Him as the light of the world.

Abbott and Costello

This is the comedy I was raised on. Beats rude and crude comedy any day.