2009 Favorites

Well I'm no film critic or editor or anything, but I thought I'd wrap up this year by sharing my favorite things from different categories. I'm sure you're all very intersted to know.


Fiction book - "Christy" By Catherine Marshall. My faithful readers will know I liked it a lot. It was by far the best fiction work I read this year (even though it's based on an actual person and events, it's still fiction). I did read more than two books this year, too! I actually read more than 20, which might be a record for me since fifth grade when I actually had time. It's the story of a well-bred young woman who goes to work as a teacher in Appalachia. It takes place at the turn of the century, and is filled with adventure, romance, love, and spiritual insights.

Nonfiction book - "Under the Overpass". Account of a young man who became homeless for most of a year, just so he could learn about their plight and understand that part of our country better. From a Christian perspective, it was convicting and enlightening.

TV Show - "In Plain Sight" (USA) This did not come out in 2009, but we began watching it this year. It's about a US Marshall in charge of witness protection, and all of the cases she deals with. Well-written, with ends and plots that keep you guessing even when you think you've got them figured out. I like the dynamics she has between her co-workers. I could probably do without her family life, but it does develop her character better. (Warning, I wouldn't call this a "family friendly" show, but it is fairly clean after the first couple of episodes). Daniel and I both really like it, so much that we watched both seasons within a couple of weeks. It's a summer show, and last season ended with a huge cliffhanger, so now we can't wait.

Movie - This was not a year of movies for us. It's hard to get away. I enjoyed "Up" and "Star Trek" the most. Right now I don't recall others that I saw in the theater. Movies just aren't as big of a part of my life as they used to be.

CD - Steven Curtis Chapman's "Beauty Will Rise". Basically, this is Steven's own journey through his grief after losing his 5-year-old daughter. It's hard to listen to, but at the same time, I loved it. Sort of like putting peroxide on an open wound. It hurts, but it heals. I love the honesty and purity in his words, and the hope that they leave behind. Probably this won't become one of his big award-winning albums, but it will definitely be cherished.

Bible Verse - Isaiah 43:18, 19, 21 "Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I shall do a new thing; now it shall spring forth. shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert... to give drink to my people, my chosen. This people I have formed for myself."
If you're a reader of my blog, you know the significance this verse held through my pregnancy. Now that Jayna is here, I can revel in the "New thing" God has done.

We are waiting outside of the door, looking for God in every day life, reaching for Him and experiencing the pieces that we can, waiting... "New things" and "former things" and ways to remember God have become a part of my life that I cherish. I hope that 2010 is full of new things for you, as well as for me.

Christmas Highlights

[editor's warning: skip this paragraph if you aren't intersted in reading about my meidcal conditions] If you haven't heard yet, I had surgery on Tuesday. To make a long story short, the doctor wanted to do a laparoscopy to explore possible causes of pain I've been having. They've treated it and scanned it and come up empty, so on Tuesday he went in with his lighted scope to look around. He cut out a bunch of scar tissue that had bonded to muscle tissue and probably organs. He also discovered that I have endometriosis, which you can google if you're super interested in knowing more about. Basically it means that my pelvic organs have the potential to experience a lot of pain and other annoying side effects. Fortunately, there is treatment for it (part of which he did by cutting them away and cautarizing the areas).

I didn't want this to be a post complaining about my ailments, though. The surgery spout was to tell you that, because of it, I have been forced to slow down and rest a lot the last fwe days. It's been nice for me to have a little time to think about Christmas. So, let me share a few highlights from my thought life and real life as well.

Kids make Christmas fun. It's sweet to give gifts to your spouse. Giving gifts to your kids is a whole new level of happiness and joy. Looking at Christmas lights is so exciting. The eagerness over cookies and candy, the excitement of their waiting and opening new presents. This year Arlene is old enough to express her thoughts and feelings, and it's been great. It's so cute.

I like my new computer. Daniel found me a good deal on a net book and gave it to me the day of my surgery. It is portable and easier to lug around, therefore allowing me more opportunities to write and play games. :) Technology is fantastic.

Word of the Father now in flesh appearing. Every year some old carol hits me in a new way. Since Christmas is all about the incarnation, God coming to earth as a man to live among us, the lyrics usually have something to do with that truth penetrating my heart yet again.
This year, two songs found new meaning in my heart. Joy to the World and Hark the Harold Angels Sing. "God and Sinners reconciled" Wow. Jesus' coming rearranged the entire God concept. He didn't change, but our ability to know Him did. He came and made His blessings flow "far as the curse is found". I love what that means. His being here gave us a way to overcome the curse of man. One day, every nation will "prove the glories of His righteousness, and wonders of His love." And, I will be among those singing with the angels "Joyful, all you nations rise! Join the triumph of the skies!" (Insidently, that song is actually about Christ's second coming, but that's part of advent, isn't it!)

Advent Conspiracy This year our church participated in advent conspiracy (see previous post). The presentation of this idea got me in the mood to give more than I wanted to, to give not only out of abundance but also out of what I would normally reserve for myself. I stretched myself a lot. My favorite chance to give came as a surprise when friends of ours who were visiting invited us to go and "bless a family". This family has been unemployed for a year and have TEN kids. We went to the store and picked up two cart loads of food. Their family had adopted this family and instead of giving gifts to each other, bought gifts for the ten kids and the mom and dad. I didn't meet the family. We sneaked into their house and dropped the food off in the kitchen and the gifts under the tree. It was great. One of the girls in the family asked her mom who did it, and her mom said, "Jesus did. He answered our prayers for food". Then the little girl spun around with a box of cereal and said, "Jesus loves me enough to give me Fruit Loops!" That's what it's all about, man.

Glory to God in the Highest! We listened to a sermon by JOhn Piper given to evangelical pastors. He preached about the Glory of God, and how we as humans can revel in it. How it is intregal to knowing Him and experiencing Him. How it is God's ultimate goal to glorify Himself. I was hit hard with that truth, becasue frankly, I'd rather think about God and His relationship with me and what He does for me and for man. But the more we think about what He does to glorify Himself, naturally we see what He has done for man through the course of history. I listened to Todd Agnew's Christmas CD (see previous post) and heard the angels song right after hearing John Piper's sermon. I couldn't keep from dancing and singing GLORY, GLORY IN THE HIGHEST! Of all the ways God chose to glorify Himself, sending Christ here to die for us and give us real and abundant life was the HIGHEST. Nothing would top it. Nothing ever will.

Peace on Earth and good will to men. Peace fills my heart in these times as I reflect on God and His power and ultimate plan for the world. While everything looks like it is spinning out of control and getting worse and worse, He reigns. We don't understand all of His purposes, but because of Jesus, He lives in our hearts. We can commune with Him now, and for eternity.

So. That's what's been on my mind these last few weeks. Hoepfully my words explained things well enough that you could understand and nothing came across as bad theology. I wish peace to all of you also--the peace Jesus left us. "Not as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." He will return for us and heaven and nature will sing!

Exmas

XMAS AND CHRISTMAS
A lost Chapter from Herodotus
From "God in the Dock" by C.S. Lewis copyright 1970

And beyond this there lies in the ocean, turned toward the west and north, the island of Niatirb which Hecataeus indeed declares to be the same size and shape as Sicily, but it is larger, though in calling it triangular a man would not miss the mark. It is densely inhabited by men who wear clothes not very different from the other barbarians who occupy the north-western parts of Europe though they do not agree with them in language. These islanders, surpassing all the men of whom we know in patience and endurance, use the following customs.

In the middle of winter when fogs and rains most abound, they have a great festival which they call Exmas, and for fifty days days they prepare for it in the fashion I shall describe. First of all, every citizen is obliged to send to each of his friends and relations a square piece of hard paper stamped with a picture, which in their speech is called an Exmas-card. But the pictures represent birds sitting on branches, or trees with a dark green prickly leaf, or else men in such garments as the Niatirbians believe that their ancestors wore two hundred yes ago riding in coaches such as their ancestors used, or houses with snow on their roofs. And the Niatirbians are unwilling to say that these pictures have to do with the festival, guarding (as I suppose) some sacred mystery. And because all men must send these cards the market-place is filled with the crowd of those buying them, so that there is great labour and weariness.

But having bought as many as they suppose to be sufficient, they return to their houses and find there the like cards with others have send to them. And when they find cards from any to whom they also have sent cards, they throw them away and give thanks to the gods that this labour at least is over for another year. But when they find cards from any to whom they have not sent, then they beat their breasts and wail and utter curses against the sender; and, having sufficiently lamented their misfortune, they put on their boots again and go out into the fog and rain and buy a card for him also. And let this account suffice about Exmas-cards.

They also send gifts to one another, suffering the same things about the gifts as about the cards, or even worse. For every citizen has to guess the value of the gift which every friend will send to him so that he may send one of equal value, whether he can afford it or not. And they buy as gifts for one another such things as no man ever bought for himself. For the sellers, understanding the custom, put for all kinds of trumpery, and whatever, being useless and ridiculous, they have been unable to sell throughout the year they now sell as an Exmas gift. And though the Niatirbians profess themselves to lack sufficient necessary things, such as metal, leather, wood and paper, yet an incredible quantity of these things is wasted every year, being made into gifts.

But during these fifty days the oldest, poorest and most miserable of the citizens put on false beards and red robes and walk about the market-place; being disguised (in my opinion) as Cronos. And the sellers of gifts no less than the purchasers become pale and weary, because of the crowds and the fog, so that any man who came into a Niatirbian city at this season would think some great public calamity had fallen on Niatirb. This fifty days of preparation is called in their barbarian speech the Exmas Rush.

But when the day of the festival comes, then most of the citizens, being exhausted with the "Rush", lie in bed till noon. But in the evening they eat five times as much supper as on other days and, crowning themselves with crowns of paper, they become intoxicated. And on the day after Exmas they are very grave, being internally disordered by the supper and the drinking and reckoning how much they have spent on gifts and on the wine. For wine is so dear among the Niatirbians that a man must swallow the worth of a talent before he is well intoxicated.

Such, then, are their customs about the Exmas. But the few among the Niatirbians have also a festival, separate and to themselves, called Crissmas, which is on the same day as Exmas. And those who keep Crissmas, doing the opposite to the majority of the Niatirbians, rise early on that day with shining faces and go before sunrise to certain temples where they partake of a sacred feast. And in most of the temples they set out images of a fair woman with a new-born child on her knees and certain animals and shepherds adoring the Child. (The reason of these images is given in a certain sacred story which I know but do not repeat.)

But I myself conversed with a priest in one of those temples and asked him why they kept Crissmas on the same day as Exmas; for it appeared to me inconvenient. But the priest replied, it is not lawful, O Stranger, for us to change the date of Crissmas, but would that Zeus would put it into the minds of the Niatirbians to keep Exmas at some other time or not to keep it at all. For Exmas and the Rush distract the minds of even of the few from sacred things. And we indeed are glad that men should make merry at Crissmas; but in Exmas, there is no merriment left. And when I asked him why they endured the Rush, he replied, "It is, O Stranger, a racket; using (as I suppose) the words of some oracle and speaking unintelligibly to me (for a racket is an instrument which the barbarians use in a game called tennis)."

But what Hecataeus says, that Exmas and Crissmas are the same, is not credible. For first, the pictures which are stamped on the Exmas cards have nothing to do with the sacred story which the priests tell about Crissmas. And second, the most part of the Niatirbians not believing the religion of the few, nevertheless send the gifts and cards and participate in the Rush and drink, wearing paper caps. But it is not likely that men, even being barbarians, should suffer so many and great things in honor of a god they do not believe in. And now, enough about Niatirb.

My Friend Mark

Last week, a whole lot of people celebrated the anniversary of our youth pastor being at our church. He's been there for 17 years, which, if you know much about youth ministry, is pretty remarkable in and of itself. I sent him a note thanking him for being a part of my life, and this morning he replied. I've been thinking about him all day, remembering some awesome youth group moments and reflecting on the impact one person can have on a life, even with little interaction.

When I first started going to the church I attend now, I was a freshman in high school. We'd been asked to leave the church I'd grown up at. I was in a crisis of belief. Most of my friends there stopped talking to me and staying in touch with the ones who still wanted to be friends was hard since we didn't see each other that often. On top of that, I didn't really have good friends at school. I was insecure and awkward and really lonely. Mark, the youth pastor, did something that meant the world to me then. He noticed me. I hung around in my brother's shadow a lot that year, but Mark made an intentional effort to include me. He made me feel welcome at church, even though I didn't know anyone else. The guy in charge wanted me around, so I guess that was good enough.

As I became part of the group, I made a lot of great friends and had chances to serve and be in leadership as I grew. I really enjoyed going on retreats and summer trips and hanging out with my church friends. We did so many fun things, and Mark was part of almost all of them. He was always available to listen, always careful to speak and usually said something wise when he did. He offered me invaluable insight into some major problems in my life, without judgment and without jumping to conclusions. (He was also directly responsible for my meeting Daniel, so I will forever be indebted to him). My memories of him and times with him are fond and special. I respect him. I admire him. I love him.

He used to joke whenever I'd say something about one of my best friends. He'd look offended and say, "I thought I was your best friend." (I think he did that with all of the kids in the youth group). But, when I look back on the years of high school youth group, I do think of Mark as a friend. A good friend.

Simeon

Luke 2:25-32
Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. ²⁶It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ. ²⁷Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, ²⁸Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:
²⁹"Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you now dismiss^d]">[d] your servant in peace.
³⁰For my eyes have seen your salvation,
³¹which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
³²a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel."

I always tear up when I think about Old Man Simeon taking baby Jesus in his arms and praising God. He'd waited his whole life for this consolation. And then he basically says that he can die in peace now because he's seen God's salvation. I wonder what Mary and Joseph thought. I wonder if they really understood everything Jesus would do.
I can only imagine how beautiful of a moment it was, as the Holy Spirit danced and sang through Simeon, rejoicing over what that baby was going to do for all of human kind. God probably watched with a satisfied smile, nodding His head at Simeon.

Nowadays the Bethlehem story is a trite little fairy tale told at Christmas. We don't really think about it after Christmas is over, at least not very often. For Simeon, it meant everything. The climax of his entire life, and a moment he would probably recount to the saints in heaven.

I love to share a poem or song at Christmastime that shares some of my feelings and thoughts. Todd Agnew wins again (which only means anything if you've read my blog for the last three years). I highly recommend the album "Do you See What I see?" It has multiple styles and tells the Christmas story from different perspectives. This was last year's post.

<sup>He Is Called Jesus - By Todd Agnew

A young couple walks through the temple door
Carrying salvation in their arms
a sight for old eyes
Redemption draws nigh
in the guise of this little baby boy

The prophecies are weaving together
and the waiting is coming to an end
God promised I'd see His Messiah
With these failing eyes before I went home
And God kept His word

He is called Jesus
Son of David, son of Joseph, Son of God
HE is called Jesus
Prince of peace and the Holy One
Of Israel, Messiah, Redeemer and King
He is called Jesus
God's word made flesh for me

They brought Him to me for a blessing
With no idea of the blessing they bring
Two doves as a ransom for their little lamb
who will break their hearts but redeem their souls

You can take these eyes for I have seen Your salvation
You can take this breath and bring me at last into Your peace
You can take these hands for I've held the light to the Gentiles
And the Glory of your people Israel</sup>

Advent

At church our pastor is preaching about the book "Advent Conspiracy". Substituting compassion for consumerism. I always think about that at this time of year, but I haven't been able to come up with a great solution to the buying gifts thing. My family loves giving and receiving gifts, and to be honest, I do too. I don't care how big/expensive they are. I just like gifts. I like seeing what everyone gets for other people, and I like the anticipation when you're pulling paper off of a box.
I guess that, since we can't eliminate this piece of our cultural celebration fully, I've made a commitment this year to worship God more fully and enjoy Him during Christmas more than I do the rest of the year. Maybe it will continue and carry into this coming year for me. Because I truly love Him.

So, my first advent thought came today while I put up decorations to Steven Curtis Chapman's "Music of Christmas" (which is one of my very favorite Christmas albums ever).
"And our God is with us, Emmanuel.
He’s come to save us, Emmanuel.
And we will never face life alone
Now that God has made Himself known,
As Father and Friend, with us through the end, Emmanuel."

I love that God is with us. I love Him because He put aside godness and became a baby. And because He came to live on earth, He can now live in us. It become a trite thought because we're so exposed to it so often, but trutfully, it is so big and important and wonderful. we can't ascribe enough greatness to the idea. We can't understand it. But we can appreciate it.

A Thankful Heart

You know why so many people feel so good on Thanksgiving? I think the answer is obvious: because we've stopped looking at how bad things are for just a moment, and realized how GOOD they truly are. No matter where a person is at in life, he or she usually has something to be thankful for. During the rest of the year, many other things overshadow that. At Thanksgiving, we realize all over again how good God has been.

At Thanksgiving in the Snodgrass family, we have a time where we sing hymns and then everyone has a chance to say what he or she has been thankful for this year. I had a hard time saying mine because everything involving babies has been so emotional. but I'll say it here. I'm thankful for God's goodness, and that we can trust in Him to be good, even in bad things. I shared that I'm thankful for Jayna Joy--"Bringer of Victory" "God has been Gracious" and the middle name having the significance from Psal 30:5 "Weeping may remain for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."

I also shared that I am thankful for the promise in 2 Peter 1:3 "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of Him." How blessed we are. So very very blessed.

English...?

Without making any statements about education, lack thereof, text-obsessing, not in touch with reality teenagers, or anything like that, I just want to share this with you

Y !S !T D@ ONLYT!M3 F@MILY COM3 2 S33 U !S @T YO WORST AND HOW COM3 D3Y ONLY C@LL WH3N D3Y N3ED SOM3TH!N OR D3Y W@NN@ B3 YO B3STFR!END W3N U GOT SOM3TH!N BUT W3N U @!NT GOT NOTH!N D3Y @!NT NOWH3R3 2 B FOUND!!!!! LOL D@TS CR@Z!!

If you took less than five minutes to figure out what that said, you're smarter than me. I think you might need Little Orphan Annie's decoder ring. The language it's written in is "facebook status" from one of my young friends. 18 years old. I understand you need to use your phone to update, but uh... lots of people do.

I won't be cynical. It's hilarious, really. Hilarious.

The Shack

Well, I finished reading William P Young's "The Shack" recently. I heard some raving reviews early on after its appearance, but hadn't felt really pulled to read it. In fact, whenever someone feels strongly about something, I tend to shy away and push my feelings in the other direction. But, around Christmastime, a friend gave me the book to read so we could discuss it. Then, through a series of events involving my weasly sister, I misplaced the book (by misplaced, I mean, my sister added it to her collection) so I didn't get around to it until this month. Then I started reading it. I don't want to be too opinionated and risk pissing someone off or the opposite, but I feel I should share my opinion because... I can. And because I found some aspects of the book quite troubling.

I must say, this is a really well-written book. I liked the words and the way it flowed, and the plot/conversations and things were very convincing. The plot itself is actualy troubling. It revolves around someone who's daughter was the victim of violent crime, and, while it doesn't share any gruesome details, being in the head of a father experiencing a kidnapping and murder is hard. Being the mother of two girls, it was just hard to read and feel like I was relating with the father character.

The book isn't really about that murder, but about how the main character, Mackinzie, deals with it and fights with God over it. Basically, he ends up encountering God at the place where they believed the crime took place. He goes back a few years later and has this experience with God, personified as three distinct personalities, representing the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. So, with that said, you know the plot. From the time he meets up with God to most of the end, the story is mostly conversation, while Mackinzie grapples with these questions about God and life and suffering that I think everyone who's experienced grief asks. The answers you get... well, it's a blend of truth, theology, comfort and heracy.

I really appreciated the fresh perspectives on things. I liked the theme that God is not who we think He is. Because He isn't. He's new and changing, yet old and predictable. He's so many things that we could never, ever explain it all or fit it into our minds even if we could explain it. We've tried and tried, and I believe that this book does a really good job explaining some things that are hard to put into words.

I liked a lot of the answers. Having struggled with questions about why God allows evil and how He works through it, I was glad to relate with Mackinzie. There were so many good answers given. So much theology laced in through the casual conversations and thoughts. It made me wonder at how little of God I know, and how much there is yet to understand. It made me love him more as I thought about what it would be like to meet up with Jesus and walk on the lake with him, or eat supper wtih God Himself. It made me long for closer fellowship with Him.

What I can't get over, and why I can't recommend the book, is the fallacies that are sprinkled in. I guess that's all I have to say about it. Amidst these solid truths, I found things that, no matter how much I tried, I could not reconsile with Scripture. So, if you read it, you have to really pray that God will show you the truth and help you discern. And you have to remember, just because the characters speaking are God, doesn't mean that the book was written by Him. :)

Brokenness

I wrote this after reflecting on my baby brother who died at 6 days old. His birthday was Monday and he would have been 26. Obviously it ended up being more of my personal thoughts. The phrases "you are yourself the answer" and "what other answer would suffice" were taken from C.S. Lewis' Till We have Faces, which has been and will forever be the best book I ever read.

Brokenness

Years go by but once in a while I still find myself asking why
Why, in the midst of so much sorrow, must you allow for more
why, when the joy so simple and pure is lost, does it ruin so many other things
why do you take these little ones home
Why do babies have to die?
and grace rolls down and mercy shows
as your hand guides us and your presence
guides our steps, causing the peace to flow
but even in your goodness, the doubt staggers in
touching and picking and pulling
making me face the questions I wish would die
and causing me to wonder why.
Why would you let it be this way
when the sorrow is almost too much to take
and the pain can never be erased
why do you take these little ones home
why do babies have to go?
and all the answers are trite when told to a burning, broken heart
All but one—you yourself are the Answer
in your love we find hope
in your light we find comfort
in your brokenness
we are healed
In your arms we find peace
and that will be enough for me
for what other answer would suffice?

Papers

I remember starting in second grade, our teachers let us use our free time to "read write or draw". I loved all three activities a lot. But, if I had to choose, I'd usually choose to write. I'd get these notebooks at the student store for 25cents and sometimes these great markers that were like 50 cents. And then, whenever I had a chance, I'd write these little stories. I only have a few of the notebooks, since they were prone to fall apart once the glue wore off. It's funny to see the themes I chose for my free stories. Mostly detective stories and things about the teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles... at least in second grade. Detective stories happened all the way through fifth grade. (I had always planned to be a detective until seventh grade when I found out you had to be pretty physically fit, and then I gave up on the idea).

In Fifth grade, we'd go up to the computer lab and use the "new" Apples to type up our stories and print them out on dot matrix. Ahhh, beautiful. What I wouldn't give to hear that sound. I believe Strongbad refers to it as "pre-ow" Anyway, I digress. So, in fifth grade we typed up stories. I wrote really long stories back then. The two that are left behind are pretty darn involved for a fifth grader's brain. I have one that was 5 pages when I typed it, which was amazing compared to everyone else's who were mostly one or two pages. I remember my teacher saying, "This isn't a story! It's a novel!" It's a stupid story, really, about some kids who discover a whole bunch of nuclear weapons in their neighbor's basement. Headed to Iraq for Sadaam Hussein... lame, I know. I guess I had a lot to learn about terrorists. But the plot was pretty cohesive.
My mom gave me a portfolio with a lot of writing in it from those years. I remembered writing some of it, but a lot of it I'd completely forgotten about. I know I have a lot of free writing from sixth grade that I did during class, but I can't find most of my writing assignments. There was one from ffith grade, though, a midevil tale (oh, I forgot to mention that after the detective stories stopped, I started writing more about kids finding bombs and knights and castles. Much better). It was 14 pages hand-written with illustrations. Lots of details. I think I might actually post that one if I get enough requests, because it's hilarious.
Anyway, reading all of that old crap and remembering how imaginitive I used to be made me wish that I had more time to devote to making up stories. I don't do it as much anymore. Sure, I can spell better now, and I have much better technique but sometimes I almost wish for those days back when the idea tank was overflowing.
Then again, maybe if I started writing detective stories again, the ideas would start to flow again. Maybe I will... but probably not.

Furry friends from Days Gone By

I don't know about you, but I have a really hard time getting rid of stuffed animals. Daniel hates that little thing about me. Just this morning I was trying to convince him to fix this broken bear because I can't stand to throw it out even though it's missing both of its legs. but that's another story. The story I have
to tell today is about me as a little girl, collecting the best stuffed animals. We played a lot when I was a kid. I went through a phase where I really only played with my animals. I sort of had a whole world made up in my head with them. I loved those happy days. And I love my animal friends because they remind me of that time.

Today I cleaned up the patch of bears, dogs, cats and various other animals that have been living on top of my wardrobe. I might send a couple away to consignment, but the ones who made the cut... well, I'm sure you're all dying to know. So I went ahead and created a yearbook.

(Top Left) Bear 2. Yes, that was actually his name. He might actually be an Ewok. Some how, he managed to make it into my top four animals when I was a kid, but I don't know why. Mom was right. He's ugly. (Top Center) Baby hear. He got a hole and the plastic beads fell out, but I liked to chew on them so it was all good. (Top Right) Ape. (Creative names). My great uncle gave me that. all of the other kids got little birds that chirped when you bounced them on a string. The gorilla makes squeeking noises. He was always the bully when I played with the animals, but I'm sort of fond of him. He has a good face.
(Bottom right) Snoopy: Nuff said. Freaking awesome.
(Bottom center) Red Frog: I don't really know why I've kept him. Some girl I didn' really even like much gave him to me for my 8th birthday. He croaks when you roll him around. and he's red. Very red. I think he might end up in the goodwill box this time around. (Bottom Right) I think he's actually the snuggles bear from the downey commercials way back in the day. He has a baby rattle inside.





Above: (From left to right): Goaty. By far my favorite stuffed animal. He usually went everywhere with me. Mom picked him up in North Dakota for me and she didn't get any of my other siblings any presents. I lost him twice. Once in a storage room at the house for several months. I thought he was gone forever until Mom went to organize, and there he was. The other time, I did leave him behind at a hotel in Colorado. Thankfully, MOm had to go back after a week for my grandpa's funeral and she got him out of the lost and found! It's a great story. Wilbur He was pretty much around from the time I was born. One house we lived in, Mom came in singing a song from the Charlotte's Web movie, and one of piggy's eyes popped right off and fell into a heat intake. He only had one eye for years and then one day MOm randomly just decided to sew new ones on. i love that pig. Lammy Another one who was around, I think since I was born. I carried him all over. most people say it's a bunny, but I don't think so. He was always my favorite toy. I used to lift up the little bib to find the soft fur underneath. And, the best of all, it plays Frere Jocha when you wind it up. Except my brother stepped on it and it never worked again.

From left to right again. Dog. I know it looks like a blob but it's really a dog. He used to have paper eyes glued on, but they fell off so all that's left is a mouth. I won him at an Awanas thing when I was probably four. I guess he's just evidence of mercy, because I can't bring myself to throw the darn thing away. He's hideous. He was even when he first showed up. Aslan. I was probably in middle school when I got him at a tag sale I went to with my mom. Some old person couldn't part with him, and neither can I. He looks very antique, and I've had to patch him up a few times, but I think he's really cute. So stately, yet so fierce. He likes to lead the other animals around, just like Aslan in Narnia. Hu-You. No idea why we named him that. No idea how we kept him around so long. He's sort of a family toy, but I ended up with him since I have a house and no one else does. He's actually the 1980 Olympic mascot, a Russian bear. He used to have an Olympic belt, but that disappeared a long time ago. I checked. He's worth about 5 bucks on ebay in good condition. That makes Hu-You worth about five cents. Aside from the great memories.




(Left) Masked Marada. He terrorizes the night, stopping crime in its tracks. My mom never liked him, but I think he's great. He thinks he's a super hero. (right) Josh. No idea how I picked that name. My grandma brought all three of us animals with jackets and scarves one year. my brothers got a panda and a dog, and I got this koala. I named him JOsh. He was Ape's friend, and they were always up to no good together. :)

Well, there you have it. Welcome to my crazy world. That was only half of the great things I could tell you. Only half of the animals that I need to go clean up before Daniel gets home.

"Under the Overpass"

Okay, I can't stay quiet about it anymore! I was going to wait til I'd read the whole book, but I'm not going to. (I must be tired or frazzled; I just had to go back and correct two grammar errors in one sentence!)

I've been reading this really good book called Under the Overpass, a journey of faith on America's streets. It's by Mike Yankoski. He undertook a strange mission when he was a sophomore in college. After hearing a sermon about being a real Christian, he felt led to become homeless for a time. He found a companion, Sam, to go with him, and a board of advisers to keep him in touch with reality and set out with 3 objectives:
1) To better understand the life of the homeless in America and to see firsthand how the church is responding to their needs.
2) To encourage others to "live out loud" for Christ in whatever ways God is asking them to.
3) To learn personally what it means to depend on Christ for daily physical needs and to experience contentment and confidence in Him. (page 19)

It's an easy-to-read narrative of his thoughts and experiences on this six-month journey. I have been impressed. It's made me think of things I never had, taught me new things about life, and about God, and it's challenged me.
I love reading and over the years I've read a lot of nonfiction, because I like it a lot. This may be my new favorite (aside from a handful of Lewis' books, which are in their own category). Buy it. I'll buy it for you if you ask me to. I've learned so many things. Tonight's reading has been the best yet, because they've been talking about their experience with churches. I can't explain what I'd like to, so I'm just going to put in an excerpt from the book which you can read if you'd like. I hope I'm not infringing on anyone's copyrights.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After addressing a broken flip-flop and semi-serious injury to his foot, Mike talks about his visit to a church (p 147):
Conversations at the front door stopped as we walked up. I had to ask for a church bulletin from the girl who was handing them out. She looked at us as if we had just escaped from a wildlife preserve. but we headed inside for the service anyway and found an empty pew three feet from the front. Thewhole room couldn't hold more than a hundred, so our chances of going unnoticed were not good.
WE still had a few minutes before the service began, and Sam had an idea. "I'm going to ask the pastor if he can help us out with some food. My stomach is growling." he got up and walked away, but was back shortly, looking disgusted.
"You won't believe what just happened," he said. "So I went and asked for the pastor. He was standing in the back, getting some coffee. I asked him if he could help us out, if he could hook us up with someone who could feed us. I told him we didn't have any money, that the panhandling here was bad."
Same paused and shook his head. "You know what he said? He said, 'That's not what we do here. We're here to worship. We can't confuse our purpose.'"
"Wow...," I said, slowly.
... [after the service] While people filed out, Sam and I kept our seats, journaling and trying to capture the moment and our frustrations.
After a few minutes, three guys came through the pews to talk. "Hey guys, I'm Drew," one guy said, extending his hand. We introduced ourselves and told them we were living on the streets. after that, the talk rambled around general topics. When I could see the conversation was going nowhere, I decided to try an experiment. (I'll admit my reaction was a little harsh, and done out of frustration, but still...)
I set my backpack on the pew between us. Then I reached down and grabbed my broke flip-flop and set it atop the pack. some of the blood was still wet, but most of it had dried, caking the sandal in a dull brown.
"Man, look at all that blood," I said, looking to Sam and pointing to my sandal.
"Bro, does that hurt?" Sam asked, catching onto my experiment.
"A little," I said, reaching for my bag. "It's because my flip-flop is broken. You see?" I said, looking up at the guys and pulling on the broken tongue of the flip flop.
They nodded by said nothing. I pulled out the dwindling roll of duct tape and ripped off a long piece--a really long piece, stretching it loudly across in front of me the full length of my arms.
... When I finished [the long process of fixing my flip flop], I dropped the sandal and slipped my foot into it. "Well done!" Sam said.
Drew agreed. "Quite a process!" he said.
"Yep," I agreed and waited.
"Well," Drew said, looking around, "we've got to take off, but it was a pleasure talking with you." He squeezed my shoulder as he left. "I'm praying for you," he said. "You too," he said to Sam. And the three walked away.
Shocked, Sam and I carried our packs and guitars out into the bright, sunny Berkely day. As we walked toward People's Park, I broke our silence with a question.
"Why do we so often overlook obvious ways to show the love of God we so loudly proclaim?" Without waiting for an answer, I charged on. "If someone's thirsty, give them a drink! If someone's hungry, feed them! I mean, this is not complicated stuff."
Sam agreed. "Who is to show the world Christ's love if not the church?"
"No one," I said definitively. Then I stopped and looked directly at Sam, who had also stopped. "Do you feel loved?"
"Nope."
"Do you feel fed?"
"Nope. I'm starving. What about you?'
"I'm starving and my feet hurt, and that guy back there knows it. but hey, he's praying for us."

Taken from "Under the Overpass" copyright 2005 Mike Yankoski III Multnomah Books
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The rest of the chapter has an incredible story about some other people they met, but you'll just have to read it to get the good news part. the story convicted me, because I bet those guys who stopped and talked to them thought they were doing a good thing. I guess they were, but, at the same time, there was more that they could do. I don't want to be a person who says "I'll pray for you" when there are obvious needs that I could meet. I want to be generous and loving and genuinely care. That chapter, by the way, begins with a quote from A.W. Tozer in Of God and Men: "It is much easier to pray that a poor friend's needs may be supplied than to supply them."

Joshua and the Tent of Meeting

Exodus 33:11 The LORD would speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks with his friend. Then Moses would return to the camp, but his young aide Joshua son of Nun did not leave the tent.

I ran across this verse while preparing devotionals for theatrical camp earlier this summer. It stuck out to me, amidst all of the strange tales of God's wrath and rules, and the wonders He preformed. People didn't know God back then like we know Him now. In fact, He'd been kind of quiet for a long time before Moses arrived on the scene. His people (the Israelite) had to rely on Moses to connect them to Him, and He often seemed unapproachable and uncaring. That's another topic. This verse I found is from a section where they talk about how Moses set up a tent to meet God in, and how the Israelites had to stay away because God's glory was too much for them to handle. And yet, there's this kid, Moses' young aide who couldn't get enough of it. He was privileged anyway, to be able to go into that tent with Moses. And then he just wanted to stay.

I remember a time when I felt I couldn't get enough of God's presence. I was young and impressionable. Maybe I was passionate, it's hard to say, because it seems so long ago and so misguided now. If you know my story, you might know how changing churches caused a crisis of belief, and, I think, in the end, a little bit of hardening in my heart. I love God so much, and I want to please Him and serve Him, and I do what I can to glorify Him, but alas, I do not linger in the tent. I rush through my prayers and Bible-reading, hoping for a quick answer, praying because I think I should and then hurrying off into my chaotic day.

We can speak with God face-to-face, unlike the Israelites, but often I just approach my relationship with Him as if I can't. I list off my concerns and do my duty, and hurry away, hoping that He'll tag along with me for the day. I read that verse and realized how much I want to savor His presence in my life again. How much I want to be like Joshua.

Old Friends

When Daniel and I first met, we realized how many mutual friends we had at church. I guess our compatible personalities made way for that (and the fact that all of his friends were girls). The connections went deeper than we knew, however. The people Daniel had hung out with in grade school had been in my Sunday school class all those years ago. A few of the connections got rekindled, since I was still in contact with a couple of the kids that we'd both known.
One person in particular, happened to be a pretty good friend to both of us. We called her Rory. Her family lived in the "missionary house" next to Daniel's parents house, so he'd known her for years. I'd known her since first grade. I think we became official friends at a sleepover/lock in in the forth grade when we stayed up "all night" watching McGee and Me and telling stupid jokes. Ahh, those were good times.
Rory usually lived in Africa, so she was only home every four years. But they were great years when she was home.
This week we got to see Rory again, after eight years. (She had attended our wedding and that was the last we saw of her). She was just as enjoyable now. Probably more so.
It's so refreshing to meet up with an old friend and discover that some things just don't change. Through the years, so many of my friends have changed drastically. They've grown up and thought through their opinions about things, and oftentimes, we've ended up not agreeing anymore, and not really having a lot in common. Some of my closes friends have parted ways with me, and I hate it. I don't hate them or their opinions. I just hate that we aren't as good of friends or friends at all.
A long time ago, Rory's dad told me that he loved living in Africa because you could get used to one way of living, and then it never changed. I would have liked that to be my life, but it hasn't. But at least some things haven't. Rory's great personality and sense of humor and ability to relate with me and Daniel hasn't changed.
[editor's note: I told Rory that I was going to find some old photos and post them, but lucky for her, I didn't feel like digging through old boxes and finding those photos, so... maybe next time].

Party Curse

[Warning: pity party ahead]
I have a party curse.
- I don't get invited to peoples' parties. It started in middle school when the snotty girls invited everyone but me to their birthday dance. It hasn't ended since. Nothing sucks more than finding out that people you hang around with an consider friends decided to do something fun and not bother to mention it to you until after the fact.
- When I plan them, people can't come. Even if they plan to come, on the day of the party, they don't show up.
- When people plan a party for me, they get canceled. It's happened more than once, the most notable time being my 16th birthday when my friends had planned a surprise party for me, and then a giant snow storm came and ruined it all.

I can't help but think it's because I'm not exciting enough to be a priority. Or maybe people are just afraid that I'll ruin something, so they don't invite me to theirs. I have a party curse. I really do. People have good excuses not to come but no one's there. My parties have to be postponed and no one can show up. Whatever party I plan just doesn't seem to work out how I plan it.

Okay, I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself because I had two parties planned this week, and it looks like neither one's really going to work out. My mom's turning 60 and I planned a good surprise party for her, but now she's stuck in Rochester with my dad at the hospital because he needs more tests on his heart. Goodbye well-planned surprise party. Hello "meet my mom for lunch if you can".
I booked a Lia Sophia Jewlery party back in March or something, because it got me a good discount on something I wanted, and there were a couple of other pieces of jewlery I liked but couldn't afford. The only RSVP's I've had have been "no's".

What's wrong with me? Do I pick bad days? Are people not entertained by the same things I am? Are they afraid that they'll be bored? Augh! Probably it's all in my head, and everyone feels like this. But maybe it's a party curse.

Take it from Here

I've had this song in my head for a few days now. I think God's maybe trying to tell me something through it.

Take it From Here by Christine Dente

I've been driving all night long
Trying to find a simple song
To cut through the dark
Lighten up the heart of a world gone wrong

One too many reckless days
Took a toll we couldn't pay
Now we're so lost
We never thought we'd end up this way
But we took off down the back roads
And we tried to go alone
Took the wheel in our own hands
But we couldn't make it home

Would You take it from here?
Cause we've carried on as long as we can
And You've made it so clear
We can't make it on our own
Could You take it from here?

So it goes the old refrain
We know we don't have what it takes
And it cuts to the heart
Lightens up the dark of the world we've made
No more trying to water
Seeds You haven't sown
No more trying to buy the time
We could never own

So would You take it from here?
Cause we've carried on as long as we can
And You've made it so clear
We can't make it on our own
Could You take it from here?

Tiffanie's Place

The house they live in is one of those old mansions that was probably built around the turn of the century when the neighborhood was new and beautiful, with long stretching lawns and no businesses around. Now it's a run-down former apartment building surrounded by businesses and other run-down houses. It's a little unnerving when you first show up to visit, but when you come inside, you are welcomed and you feel a sense of warmth. Tiffanie's decorated it with her own flare, with decorations that detract from the shoddy paint jobs, loose boards, and watermarks. She moved there with her family (husband and four kids) to "do ministry" in the ghetto through a church whose mission is to reach out to the urban community in our area.

She keeps her home like she lives her life--beautiful, with a welcoming air, not afraid of sharing her weaknesses and struggles. Her past is a long story full of scars and darkness, but her life in Christ is new and fresh. Just like her home, the outside might look similar to everyone else's in the neighborhood, but inside there is a contrasting peace and elegance. I want to be that way. I want to be comfortable wherever I am, willing to share my life and goods with others. I want where I live to be a reflection of that, no matter what neighborhood it's in and how old the house is. I want my friends to feel home with me.

I don't see Tiffanie very much anymore, because so many of the things we did together have changed. But I don't mind the chance to visit her in her "Haven in the Hood" and talk about things pertaining to life and godliness. I consider it a privilege.

a graduation poem

I wrote this for a girl I've known for several years now who just graduated from high school. I love her and really hope the best for her life.

For Taffi (Graduation)

You’ve grown up like a little rose
tender among the thorns
you fight to be heard
and long to be loved
even through the pain
even while the thorns prick at you every day
You’ve decided it’s normal
and it’s your lot in life
but sometimes the pain is more than your soft pedals can stand
and sometimes you wish you were dead
and you’d rather give up
than be hurt one more time
But still you rise. You bloom
and try again
hoping for the best
facing disappointment and loss
agony too deep for anyone else to understand

But you are a little rose
for all the beauty inside you
like a gem, glimmering bright there
amidst the thorns
Valuable because you are
beauty in itself
no matter who appreciates it
And you were created for a purpose
maybe you’ve yet to find
unfolding, as you live this life
like pedals that grow
full and bright
you will bloom
some day soon
and it will be hard to recognize you
from the place you began.

Little Rose, these thorns can be cut away
and we will all be amazed
at everything you accomplish
in those days
when you are raised from death to life.

Longing

On the same subject as the previous post, I wanted to add this. A couple of months ago my adult bible fellowship went through Beth Moore's "Patriarchs" study. I'm not one of those die-hard Beth Moore fans, although through the years I've gleaned some excellent things from her material. This poem she wrote and spoke at the end of the study (put to music by Travis Cottrell) has lingered in my mind since I heard it, haunting me sort of. It's her relevant application of the life of Abraham. How well it explains my heart these days, as I yearn for something I can't quite find.

Longing (Abraham's Song) words by Beth Moore

I am longing, longing,
For a place I cannot find
A place no one has told me
A land of a fairer kind.

You have kept Your promise to me
I have all a man could want
Yet I stare into the distance
I ache and still I long.
I'm surrounded by Canaan
Laughter echoes loud
I've loved and lived and followed
Built altars and I've bowed.
I'm longing.

(chorus)

O foolish man, O dreamer
ungrateful in my lot
Am I not here? Is this not dear?
What else could yet be sought?
Where are You, Lord, where are You?
Where is the home You, keep?
You came and wakened longing
Then You hid within the deep
And I'm longing.

(chorus)

I yearn to hear Your voice again
To feel Your presence near
You showed me there is
So much more, so much more then
left me longing here.

Somewhere beyond the stars
I counted one by one
A better country calls me
"Come home, true Canaan's son."

Getting In

Last week and the previous one, I helped with theatrical camp at my church. I got to write the devotion books for the kids to use for the two weeks. This year the play was about Exodus. Basically a kid's version of the 10 Commandments. I wasn't really happy with how the homework turned out, because to me it seemed too difficult for 5th8th graders. There were some who agreed with me, and others who thought they were great. Either way, the work I did on them got me thinking about the Promised Land. There's too much theology in there to explain where my thoughts ended up going, but since then, I've been thinking about heaven and wanting it more and more.
I know that we get to experience God here on earth and find home in Him, but I've felt so unsettled ever since I lost Grace. I want to be there now, where the pain will be gone and I can just hold my little girl and see her in the true image of God. I don't want to live through this life and watch bad things happen and try as hard as I can to be like Jesus but continually fail. Some days I'm tired of the dim glass we have to look at God through. I just want to be there with Him.
It's probably just a piece of my grief surfacing. Lately talk of heaven or songs just cause me to well up with such strong emotions that I cry. I hate being that way because I never used to be "emotional", but there's no way to change it. I want heaven. I want Jesus. I want to see God and know Him fully.
I've been familiar with this quote for many years now, since my brother-in-law attached himself to it. I discovered it about the same time as he did, but it's his, so I haven't used it like it's mine. But these last few months, it resonates so true with me:

"At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of the morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in." C.S. Lewis

Some day.

wedding remorse

This weekend I'm going to be in my best friend's wedding. My daughter is the flower girl, I'm a bridesmaid, and Daniel will be reading scripture. I'm really excited and happy for her.
It's made me think back to my wedding. I was 19 and really didn't know much about how weddings went or what options I had, so I kind of just did what people told me to. I would change a lot now, if I had a chance to do it over. And because I know you're all interested to hear it, here's what I'd change:
6 bridesmaids instead of 3. I wanted to have my best friend from high school Twan, be a bridesmaid, along with Emily my friend from church, and Becky my cousin, but my mom said it would be easier to just have the girls who lived nearby be bridesmaids instead of trying to get them all fitted for dresses and stuff. So I just went along with it. Daniel didn't have six guys to be groomsmen so I didn't want to make him pick some random people that weren't really good friends. So I had 3.
Music - I would have picked musicians who would actually show up at the wedding instead of calling two days before and canceling. I would have made sure that someone lifted chords for the song I wanted to have. If I could have known the future then, I would have made my sister-in-law (who wasn't related then, but was asked to play piano) play instead of the girl who quit.
Photography - I would have gotten someone with a nice camera to take the pictures.
Family - If I'd had six bridesmaids, I would have asked if my brothers both could have been groomsmen, and I probably would have had my sister (who was only 11 then) be a junior bridesmaid or something.

Everything went fine and we had a nice wedding. But I think some people ended up resenting me for not having them included. and I didn't really want that. I wish I could have known the future then. Oh well. shoulda woulda coulda.

Blogging

I love reading peoples' blogs. Sometimes I stumble on one so interesting, I just sit and read through it all. I mostly love reading my friends' blogs that are just about the things happening in their lives. So since I feel like writing tonight, I'll just give a quick update on my life. Because i should be in bed, but I'm doing this instead.

I've been working on devotionals for theatrical camp. Every year, my mother-in-law helps direct a camp for two weeks at church, where 5th through 8th graders put together a musical to preform. I've always helped in diffent ways, but for the last three years I've written devotionals, which go as homework. The kids bring them back and get points and then they can spend them at a store. Typical sunday-school style reward system. I reallyl enjoy writing the books and exploring the subjects that are in the musicals. This year it's about the book of Exodus. The Ten Commandments and Go Down Moses and all that. I've been having a hard time with the material for some reason, trying to find the right passages to use and some how make them relevant. I think the trouble is there is so much to pick from, and narrowing down what I want to say gets tricky.

My brother is home from the cruise ship tour for three months. His girlfriend Gabi is back with him this week, so I've been hanging around them a lot with the family. My whole family will be home this summer. Good thing I have my own house. We're having a good time right now. My parents just left for a 2-week trip to the Czech Republic.

Other people are back also. My brother and sister in Law, Nathan and Shelly, are back to have a baby. So we're just going to be busy all summer. I don't like being busy, but I like seeing friends and family who live far away.

I finished the book "Christy" and recommend it. I'll probably make a post about that.

I have nothing really intersting to share here. So I will post this and go to bed.

D-Day

D-Day

(In honor of Alvin Rustebakke, 28th Division, Second Ranger Battalion, WWII)

sixty-five years have passed
since the frightful day
when he struggled across the beach
dreaming of home in those Montana hills
saw the world as it was, the horror and agony
the price
paid in lives of friends--these soldiers straggled along the sands
but he saw God that day.

And he’s had a hard time of it
in those years since the war
and I wonder if it might have been different for him
if the ugliness and pain hadn’t come so early
Who can offer insight
into what changed that day in his heart and mind
all the reality
and the faith to back it up

but now his children
live in that freedom
an electrician, a veterinarian, a farmer and mechanic
their children making lives of their own
engineers, architects, psychologists, housewives
mothers, fathers.
new soldiers, fighting in foreign wars
and none will know the hardship he did
So for him the war is won.