I've decided that I don't like reading the blogs that are "devotional" style, where people type out a scripture and talk about what it means to them. Or what they've learned. I don't like the tone they take, mostly. And if I wanted a devotional, i'd read Guideposts. Some people make good application of scripture without taking on that annoying teacher tone. And I guess those are betr than nothing. But I don't like them, that's all.
My husband's grandpa died today. He's really upset about it, and that makes me upset. So far, no one I've known very well has passed away. So I haven't really struggled with the feelings that you have when that happens. It's hard to watch people suffer. And it's hard to see that they get heaven before we do. But I havve a hard time sympatising. I hate that i can't, though.
Uh... I hate how you go out and experience something great (likea writing conference), and then you come home and regular life seems worse than ever. Maybe it's just the contrast of great living, and normal living. But sometimes I think that bad things happen intentionally to make me grounded again. I don't know. But I wish I cou;d have stayed in Colorado a couple extra days and blocked reality from my mind for just a little longer. It's nice to be able to do that.
I don't have anything else to say.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Lifechanging Bill
In the forth grade, we had a Pioneer Girls sleepover. We watched all of the McGee and Me shows that exsisted. I stayed up "all night" with Rory and enjoyed the movies that taught us how to make good choices and how the Bible applied to life.
When I was in junior high, I read some books called "Journeys to Fayrah" (now the Imager Chronicles). It was a fantasy series about an awkward twelve-year-old girl who accidently gets taken to another dimention and a land called Fayrah, where she learns about someone named Imager who loves her and has a plan for her life, fights against the Illusionist, and then battles within the world to discover truth and understand the mysteries of Imager's ways.
In high school, after leaving a church whose ways were edging toward New Age, I read through a series of books called "Forbidden Doors" where two teenagers engage in Spiritual Warfare and learn that the powers of darkness are not as unreal and powerless as we thought. But at the same time, there is a greater Power that is able to defeat it.
All three of those media experiences changed my life, primarily by changing my perception of God or helping to expand it. They were comforting characters I related with on a deep level. All three of them, Bill Myers was responsible for. Out of the imagination of this hulking, six-foot-four man with a portruding chin and mischevious smile came McGee, Denise, Listro Q, Fayrah Wally McDoogle, and Forbidden Doors.
And I sat at his table and talked with him this weekend. It was probably the highlight of my writing life, certainly the highlight of the year for me. It was something that I'd wanted to do for a long time. I waited all weekend to elbow my way through the crowds of people who filled the lobby a half hour before dinner, hoping to stake a table with an editor or writer. I watched while others filled the spots of the table I wanted, laughed and chatted. It was me last night. I got that table. (and on top of sitting there with my favorite author, I also got to sit right next to Frank Peretti).
Some day, I want to be responsible for lifechange like that. For showing teenagers who are insecure and unsure of themselves and their faith that GOd is active, real and wonderful. And maybe, if I'm fortunate and blessed, someone will sit at my table at a writing conference and say what I got to say to Mr. Myers last night: "Your books changed my life."
When I was in junior high, I read some books called "Journeys to Fayrah" (now the Imager Chronicles). It was a fantasy series about an awkward twelve-year-old girl who accidently gets taken to another dimention and a land called Fayrah, where she learns about someone named Imager who loves her and has a plan for her life, fights against the Illusionist, and then battles within the world to discover truth and understand the mysteries of Imager's ways.
In high school, after leaving a church whose ways were edging toward New Age, I read through a series of books called "Forbidden Doors" where two teenagers engage in Spiritual Warfare and learn that the powers of darkness are not as unreal and powerless as we thought. But at the same time, there is a greater Power that is able to defeat it.
All three of those media experiences changed my life, primarily by changing my perception of God or helping to expand it. They were comforting characters I related with on a deep level. All three of them, Bill Myers was responsible for. Out of the imagination of this hulking, six-foot-four man with a portruding chin and mischevious smile came McGee, Denise, Listro Q, Fayrah Wally McDoogle, and Forbidden Doors.
And I sat at his table and talked with him this weekend. It was probably the highlight of my writing life, certainly the highlight of the year for me. It was something that I'd wanted to do for a long time. I waited all weekend to elbow my way through the crowds of people who filled the lobby a half hour before dinner, hoping to stake a table with an editor or writer. I watched while others filled the spots of the table I wanted, laughed and chatted. It was me last night. I got that table. (and on top of sitting there with my favorite author, I also got to sit right next to Frank Peretti).
Some day, I want to be responsible for lifechange like that. For showing teenagers who are insecure and unsure of themselves and their faith that GOd is active, real and wonderful. And maybe, if I'm fortunate and blessed, someone will sit at my table at a writing conference and say what I got to say to Mr. Myers last night: "Your books changed my life."
Monday, February 13, 2006
Standing with Doubters
There are things in every religion that don't add up. i could start listing them, but I think I'd just depress myself. While everyone would like to think that their religion is ultimate truth and everything fits together, I'm not so sure that it does. I think that might be part of what makes it religion. It's founded on Supernatural. And because it usually involves some supreme being, there are things that we are not to understand about that being.
Enter God. Christianity. I'd like to tell everyone that my faith is perfect, that the set of values I've established are unshakable and perfect. That they all line up, and when you think hard enough they make sense. But I don't think they do. And I think I'm OK with that. It's strange. I've met a lot of people who doubt their faith, who question it frequently. and I think we all go through phases like that. IT's a scary place to be, when you start wondering if the foundation for your life is suddenly not as true as you once thought it was. You don't know who to turn to, and you don't know how to resolve it. Some people give up. some people change their thinking.
And some choose to believe despite it all. Despite doubts and trials and questions. I guess that's what makes it "faith" instead of "religion", really. Because I can reject religion easily. I don't like establishments. But faith, the relationship I have with God and the trust I put in Him and His word, is something that doesn't go away so easily.
So I stand among the doubters with my hands reached toward heaven, hoping that it's true. Believing that it's true despite my intellect and feelings. And I hope that those who doubt come to the same conclusion I have. Because in the end, it's harder to believe than not to. And I think it's better to take my chances with the claims of ultimate truth and absolutes.
Enter God. Christianity. I'd like to tell everyone that my faith is perfect, that the set of values I've established are unshakable and perfect. That they all line up, and when you think hard enough they make sense. But I don't think they do. And I think I'm OK with that. It's strange. I've met a lot of people who doubt their faith, who question it frequently. and I think we all go through phases like that. IT's a scary place to be, when you start wondering if the foundation for your life is suddenly not as true as you once thought it was. You don't know who to turn to, and you don't know how to resolve it. Some people give up. some people change their thinking.
And some choose to believe despite it all. Despite doubts and trials and questions. I guess that's what makes it "faith" instead of "religion", really. Because I can reject religion easily. I don't like establishments. But faith, the relationship I have with God and the trust I put in Him and His word, is something that doesn't go away so easily.
So I stand among the doubters with my hands reached toward heaven, hoping that it's true. Believing that it's true despite my intellect and feelings. And I hope that those who doubt come to the same conclusion I have. Because in the end, it's harder to believe than not to. And I think it's better to take my chances with the claims of ultimate truth and absolutes.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
My Limitless God
I just finished listening to the 2005 report from Gospel for Asia. It was amazing. Beyond amazing. More than anything I could even explain. It opened my eyes to the fantastic abilities of God. We don't see them here in the US. We've limited Him, and we've civilized Him. But He is on the move with or without our help. Especially in Asia. It's easy for me to say GFA is so awesome, but hearing the founder talk about God and His work through GFA leaves you only wanting to be a part of what God is doing.
I wish that I weren't so civilized in my Christian thinking. I want to revolt and be the barbarian Erwin Mcmanus describes in "The Barbarian Way". I want to stand with my limitless God and work in His unrefined, unexpected ways. I want to experience His power--the hope of the nations, the grace that accepts and loves and the mercy that saves. I want to be His barbarian and walk the unmarked territory.
Check out GFA on my provided link. It is well-worth your time and investment.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Purposes
I've been thinking about my poetry and how it seems, the ones I really love and feel speak the most of me, are the ones others don't appreciate as much. I'm the kind of personality that doesn't really care about that so much; I'd rather just enjoy writing and express myself.
But it got me thinking about art and music and other forms of expression. And that led to thoughts about motives in general. Why do we do what we do? And more importantly, are those reasons ones that benefit God? Do they even benefit us?
I oten wonder if what I write will help others. I'd like for it to be true. I'd like the things I put on paper to be meaningful, thought-provoking, and life-changing. I suppose all writers have that desire to some extent. But what would happen if that never happened? What if those who read my writing thought it was stupid, or mundane or found themselves indifferent? Would it matter? should it matter?
I think it does (and should) sometimes, but not for the reasons that we would typically site. More because if my work is unnoticed and unappreciated, then my calling would not be being fulfilled. I would not be writing as well as I should be if that is what God has called me to do. WHat I'm trying to say is that if He created me to be one thing and that is truly my desire, He should use it for what He has purposed. Assuming that my motive is the same as His, which isn't always the case.
I wonder about ministry too. What if nothing comes of it? What if my purpose in ministry is salvation of others, but that never happens? I've been thinking about this, and have concluded that our purposes, although they may be pure, may not be the same purposes God has in calling us forth. I know people who would say that, if we aren't in it for the same purpose as God, we aren't following Him or listening to Him like we should be. But why would we have to understand His purpose, as long as we're doing it? That's my question. Maybe sometimes we understand the general purpose, but He has specific ones in mind. Maybe sometimes it isn't always clear. and maybe if it were, it would scare us and we wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Maybe in His soverignty, there's room for us to "mess up" what we thought we were doing, but hit God's purpose square on the head.
Like the prophet Jeremiah. I wonder if he ever wondered why things didn't go like they were supposed to. I wonder if he questioned his purposes and God's. I wonder if what he thought he was doing was different than what he actually was.
What it comes down to for me is showing God. Displaying His beauty to the world in whatever ways He created me to do that. Singing, poetry, ministry. They "add to the beauty" as Sara Groves puts it. I don't know what fruit they bear, and I don't need to, so long as I know God is working in them.
Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves 2005
We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts,
written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold
Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out our best
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
But it got me thinking about art and music and other forms of expression. And that led to thoughts about motives in general. Why do we do what we do? And more importantly, are those reasons ones that benefit God? Do they even benefit us?
I oten wonder if what I write will help others. I'd like for it to be true. I'd like the things I put on paper to be meaningful, thought-provoking, and life-changing. I suppose all writers have that desire to some extent. But what would happen if that never happened? What if those who read my writing thought it was stupid, or mundane or found themselves indifferent? Would it matter? should it matter?
I think it does (and should) sometimes, but not for the reasons that we would typically site. More because if my work is unnoticed and unappreciated, then my calling would not be being fulfilled. I would not be writing as well as I should be if that is what God has called me to do. WHat I'm trying to say is that if He created me to be one thing and that is truly my desire, He should use it for what He has purposed. Assuming that my motive is the same as His, which isn't always the case.
I wonder about ministry too. What if nothing comes of it? What if my purpose in ministry is salvation of others, but that never happens? I've been thinking about this, and have concluded that our purposes, although they may be pure, may not be the same purposes God has in calling us forth. I know people who would say that, if we aren't in it for the same purpose as God, we aren't following Him or listening to Him like we should be. But why would we have to understand His purpose, as long as we're doing it? That's my question. Maybe sometimes we understand the general purpose, but He has specific ones in mind. Maybe sometimes it isn't always clear. and maybe if it were, it would scare us and we wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Maybe in His soverignty, there's room for us to "mess up" what we thought we were doing, but hit God's purpose square on the head.
Like the prophet Jeremiah. I wonder if he ever wondered why things didn't go like they were supposed to. I wonder if he questioned his purposes and God's. I wonder if what he thought he was doing was different than what he actually was.
What it comes down to for me is showing God. Displaying His beauty to the world in whatever ways He created me to do that. Singing, poetry, ministry. They "add to the beauty" as Sara Groves puts it. I don't know what fruit they bear, and I don't need to, so long as I know God is working in them.
Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves 2005
We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts,
written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold
Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out our best
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
The Gift to the World
I've been thinking about my poetry and how it seems, the ones I really love and feel speak the most of me, are the ones others don't appreciate as much. I'm the kind of personality that doesn't really care about that so much; I'd rather just enjoy writing and express myself.
But it got me thinking about art and music and other forms of expression. And that led to thoughts about motives in general. Why do we do what we do? And more importantly, are those reasons ones that benefit God? Do they even benefit us?
I oten wonder if what I write will help others. I'd like for it to be true. I'd like the things I put on paper to be meaningful, thought-provoking, and life-changing. I suppose all writers have that desire to some extent. But what would happen if that never happened? What if those who read my writing thought it was stupid, or mundane or found themselves indifferent? Would it matter? should it matter?
I think it does (and should) sometimes, but not for the reasons that we would typically site. More because if my work is unnoticed and unappreciated, then my calling would not be being fulfilled. I would not be writing as well as I should be if that is what God has called me to do. WHat I'm trying to say is that if He created me to be one thing and that is truly my desire, He should use it for what He has purposed. (Assuming that my motive is the same as His).
I wonder about ministry too. What if nothing comes of it? What if my purpose in ministry is salvation of others, but that never happens? I've been thinking about this, and have concluded that our purposes, although they may be pure, may not be the same purposes God has in calling us forth. I know people who would say that, if we aren't in it for the same purpose as God, we aren't following Him or listening to Him like we should be. But why would we have to understand His purpose, as long as we're doing it? That's my question. Maybe sometimes it isn't always clear. and maybe if it were, it would scare us and we wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Maybe in His soverignty, there's room for us to "mess up" what we thought we were doing, but hit God's purpose square on the head.
Like the prophet Jeremiah. I wonder if he ever wondered why things didn't go like they were supposed to. I wonder if he questioned his purposes and God's. I wonder if what he thought he was doing was different than what he actually was.
What it comes down to for me is showing God. Displaying His beauty to the world in whatever ways He created me to do that. Singing, poetry, ministry. They "add to the beauty" as Sara Groves puts it.
Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves 2005
We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts,
written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold
Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out our best
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
But it got me thinking about art and music and other forms of expression. And that led to thoughts about motives in general. Why do we do what we do? And more importantly, are those reasons ones that benefit God? Do they even benefit us?
I oten wonder if what I write will help others. I'd like for it to be true. I'd like the things I put on paper to be meaningful, thought-provoking, and life-changing. I suppose all writers have that desire to some extent. But what would happen if that never happened? What if those who read my writing thought it was stupid, or mundane or found themselves indifferent? Would it matter? should it matter?
I think it does (and should) sometimes, but not for the reasons that we would typically site. More because if my work is unnoticed and unappreciated, then my calling would not be being fulfilled. I would not be writing as well as I should be if that is what God has called me to do. WHat I'm trying to say is that if He created me to be one thing and that is truly my desire, He should use it for what He has purposed. (Assuming that my motive is the same as His).
I wonder about ministry too. What if nothing comes of it? What if my purpose in ministry is salvation of others, but that never happens? I've been thinking about this, and have concluded that our purposes, although they may be pure, may not be the same purposes God has in calling us forth. I know people who would say that, if we aren't in it for the same purpose as God, we aren't following Him or listening to Him like we should be. But why would we have to understand His purpose, as long as we're doing it? That's my question. Maybe sometimes it isn't always clear. and maybe if it were, it would scare us and we wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Maybe in His soverignty, there's room for us to "mess up" what we thought we were doing, but hit God's purpose square on the head.
Like the prophet Jeremiah. I wonder if he ever wondered why things didn't go like they were supposed to. I wonder if he questioned his purposes and God's. I wonder if what he thought he was doing was different than what he actually was.
What it comes down to for me is showing God. Displaying His beauty to the world in whatever ways He created me to do that. Singing, poetry, ministry. They "add to the beauty" as Sara Groves puts it.
Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves 2005
We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts,
written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold
Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out our best
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
The Overwhelming Hope of Tomorrow
Tonight I feel like things just aren't going well. MOnday was awesome. I had a great day. I felt good about everything. And it was a good dya, so I had no reason not to feel good. Today, there was something heavy nagging at me most of the day. I can't explain it. A spiritual battle, perhaps. Younglife tonight was fine for me. Everyone else thought it wasn't great, and feels like there are major problems with it.
But the problem with ministry and with working with people in general is that there really isn't a set formula that you can do once and it works forever. No. And especially with youth, there are changing needs, changing lives, and changing relationships. You can't set up a perfect system. I guess there are those who would disagree with me. But the real question is, what are the things that you must do in order for the ministry to be successful (in GOd's eyes)? The obvious answers are prayer and the Bible, and letting the SPiirt lead... but the lines of where that ends and human interaction begins are so hazy. It causes me to wonder if there is a "best" way to do something like ministry? OR if we have to rely on the trial-and-error method? Can we trust that God uses everything for HIs glory? Can we believe that even the things we thought were wrong, were good?
Only when we can know that the things we thought were wrong were still HIs will that we did. And I don't know that I'm at a place where I am seeking HIm enough to be able to say that for certain.
So tonight I'm hoping for tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I'm going to work. And it's going to be fulfilling. And I will walk away and feel like I've done something useful. Eternal, even.
And tomorrow in the figurative sense, I will be in heaven with Jesus and the questions of ministry and perfection and life will no longer be questions.
But the problem with ministry and with working with people in general is that there really isn't a set formula that you can do once and it works forever. No. And especially with youth, there are changing needs, changing lives, and changing relationships. You can't set up a perfect system. I guess there are those who would disagree with me. But the real question is, what are the things that you must do in order for the ministry to be successful (in GOd's eyes)? The obvious answers are prayer and the Bible, and letting the SPiirt lead... but the lines of where that ends and human interaction begins are so hazy. It causes me to wonder if there is a "best" way to do something like ministry? OR if we have to rely on the trial-and-error method? Can we trust that God uses everything for HIs glory? Can we believe that even the things we thought were wrong, were good?
Only when we can know that the things we thought were wrong were still HIs will that we did. And I don't know that I'm at a place where I am seeking HIm enough to be able to say that for certain.
So tonight I'm hoping for tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I'm going to work. And it's going to be fulfilling. And I will walk away and feel like I've done something useful. Eternal, even.
And tomorrow in the figurative sense, I will be in heaven with Jesus and the questions of ministry and perfection and life will no longer be questions.
Friday, January 06, 2006
The Familiar Place
It's not an unusual place for me
when the lost is so familiar
and trying harder leaves me emptier.
But through the blackness
He beckons
calling like the sea
to bring in the tide
like a lover searching
for his bride.
And to be found is to know a splendor
only seen in the dark times
--of restoration and perserverence
to have a hand to hold across the miles
of wasted time and untended paths
to be brought from the familiar place
into the hope of glory
joy of the crown
and greater knowledge of grace.
when the lost is so familiar
and trying harder leaves me emptier.
But through the blackness
He beckons
calling like the sea
to bring in the tide
like a lover searching
for his bride.
And to be found is to know a splendor
only seen in the dark times
--of restoration and perserverence
to have a hand to hold across the miles
of wasted time and untended paths
to be brought from the familiar place
into the hope of glory
joy of the crown
and greater knowledge of grace.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
And then things took a terrible plunge toward mundane...
I guess the title mostly speaks for itself. I think that I need to ask God to put life into my daily activities so it doesn't feel so... boring and routine yet overwhelming at the same time.
Breathe on me, breathe o breath of God
Breathe on me till my heart is new
Breathe on me, breath o breath of God
breath on me till I'm resting in you.
Breathe on me, breathe o breath of God
Breathe on me till my heart is new
Breathe on me, breath o breath of God
breath on me till I'm resting in you.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
And the Joy...
Today I'm feeling discouraged. I don't even have a really good reason to. I think that a lot of it has to do with being a little disappointed. I know it doesn't matter, but today at work, I saw some of the teachers taking home boxes of gifts from their kids and parents, but I had four. It isn't important, but it makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong that the parents dont like me.
Daniel didn't have to work tomorrow, but now I think he's going to be driving up to Minnesota to fix Nathan's car. That wasn't exactly what I'd planned on having this week look like, and we were just there this weekend.
And besides that, there's something about a discouraged Nathan that bothers me. I'm used to it, actually. I spent a couple of years being his friend when he was sure no one liked him after his fiancee ditched him. But I don't like it when the stable people in my life need help.
I can't find gifts for some people who I really wanted to get something cool for. And it's stupid, but it makes me feel like a failure of a friend. I can't decide what to get for my best friend. We spend hours together every week, but I can't find a single thing she'd like. And I feel like what I decide to give to people is inferior to what everyone else gives.
... that might have to do with the fact that my older brother is planning to give everyone gifts that are more than a hundred dollars.
Today it just feels like a kind of joy I usually have has been drained from me. Maybe it's my fault for caring about things I don't need to. Or maybe Maybe I'm just tired out and don't want to handle life right now. That might be it. I'm excited for Christmas, but it feels like things aren't going to slow down long enough to enjoy it. I'm s ure they will, though. They always do.
Daniel didn't have to work tomorrow, but now I think he's going to be driving up to Minnesota to fix Nathan's car. That wasn't exactly what I'd planned on having this week look like, and we were just there this weekend.
And besides that, there's something about a discouraged Nathan that bothers me. I'm used to it, actually. I spent a couple of years being his friend when he was sure no one liked him after his fiancee ditched him. But I don't like it when the stable people in my life need help.
I can't find gifts for some people who I really wanted to get something cool for. And it's stupid, but it makes me feel like a failure of a friend. I can't decide what to get for my best friend. We spend hours together every week, but I can't find a single thing she'd like. And I feel like what I decide to give to people is inferior to what everyone else gives.
... that might have to do with the fact that my older brother is planning to give everyone gifts that are more than a hundred dollars.
Today it just feels like a kind of joy I usually have has been drained from me. Maybe it's my fault for caring about things I don't need to. Or maybe Maybe I'm just tired out and don't want to handle life right now. That might be it. I'm excited for Christmas, but it feels like things aren't going to slow down long enough to enjoy it. I'm s ure they will, though. They always do.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
A Hard Time we Had of It.
I've been reading a lot of poetry lately, and came across this about a month ago. It was just so cool that I want to share it. It being Christmas and all.
Journey of the Magi By TS Eliot
'A cold coming we had of it
just the worst time of year
For a journey and such a long journey
The ways deep and the weather sharp
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory
Lying down in the melting snow
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces
And the silken girls bringing sherbt.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women
And And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had for it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night, sleeping in snatches
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse gallopped away in the meadow
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver
And feet kicking the empty wine skins.
But there was no information, so we cotinued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place, it was (young men say) satisfactory
All this was a long time ago, I remember
And I would do it again but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death
But had thought they were different; this birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
WE returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Journey of the Magi By TS Eliot
'A cold coming we had of it
just the worst time of year
For a journey and such a long journey
The ways deep and the weather sharp
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory
Lying down in the melting snow
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces
And the silken girls bringing sherbt.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women
And And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had for it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night, sleeping in snatches
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse gallopped away in the meadow
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver
And feet kicking the empty wine skins.
But there was no information, so we cotinued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place, it was (young men say) satisfactory
All this was a long time ago, I remember
And I would do it again but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death
But had thought they were different; this birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
WE returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Comment
Does it bother anyone else that it says "Comments" at the bottom of the page, even if there's one? Because that really bugs me.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Do Unto Others...
Thursday it snowed for about twelve straight hours. It was cool, and I was happy about it, but I was afraid to say so because everyone seemed so annoyed. I decided while driving to work that when I got off, I'd scrape the windows on everyone's car. I did mine first, and let it run while I went on to the next one. At that time, there were only two other people left at work. So I started scraping Kelly Jo's car. I like Kelly Jo. Everyone does. She's nice and kind and doesn't really gossip much. It was easy to scrape her car, too, because she had only been at work for three hours.
Melissa is the manager in the afternoon. While I was scraping Kelly Jo's car, she came out and said, "Kristin, do mine too." She tells people when she's trying to ask, that's how she is. So I said I'd planned to, and I went off to do hers. She'd been parked there all day, and there was a lot of ice on her car. But I did it anywya, because it was too late to turn around and not do it, especially after she'd seen me scraping Kelly Jo's.
But it got me to thinking about service, and how hard it can be to do onto others as you'd have them do onto you. especially when they're telling you to do it. And their life is such a bigger mess than everyone else's. And they aren't very gracious when you do finally do things to help them. I wish that some how, those people wouldn't count, and I could just help the nice people. After all, if I were being a jerk, I'd want someone to show me that I was being a jerk. That's doing onto others as I'd have them do onto me... but something tells me it doesn't work that way. It probably has more to do with Love your neighbor as yourself, and "Let this mind be in you that was also in christ Jesus who... became nothing, taking the form of a servant and humbling himself to the point of death." That's a lot more weighty than scraping people's cars off. And I think that it will be a long process for me to discover how fulfilling serving the jerks of the world can be.
Melissa is the manager in the afternoon. While I was scraping Kelly Jo's car, she came out and said, "Kristin, do mine too." She tells people when she's trying to ask, that's how she is. So I said I'd planned to, and I went off to do hers. She'd been parked there all day, and there was a lot of ice on her car. But I did it anywya, because it was too late to turn around and not do it, especially after she'd seen me scraping Kelly Jo's.
But it got me to thinking about service, and how hard it can be to do onto others as you'd have them do onto you. especially when they're telling you to do it. And their life is such a bigger mess than everyone else's. And they aren't very gracious when you do finally do things to help them. I wish that some how, those people wouldn't count, and I could just help the nice people. After all, if I were being a jerk, I'd want someone to show me that I was being a jerk. That's doing onto others as I'd have them do onto me... but something tells me it doesn't work that way. It probably has more to do with Love your neighbor as yourself, and "Let this mind be in you that was also in christ Jesus who... became nothing, taking the form of a servant and humbling himself to the point of death." That's a lot more weighty than scraping people's cars off. And I think that it will be a long process for me to discover how fulfilling serving the jerks of the world can be.
Monday, November 28, 2005
The Bluffs
Along the river is a road
cut into the ground
And high up on those man-made bluffs
are houses buried behind
the mountain-like timber
oaks and poplar; clouds of bushes hide
the crouching dominions for half the year
and possessed by the joy of privacy
or perhaps a hidden fear
of one of the driversby
catching a glimpse
of their neglected front
the peeling paint or overgrown lawns
these houses stayed veiled
until comes autumn
with then growing winds and faded sun
cause the carefully constructed curtain of foliage to fall
and the bare trees are windows to these homes' bluffs
whose glory or grotesqueness are disguised.
cut into the ground
And high up on those man-made bluffs
are houses buried behind
the mountain-like timber
oaks and poplar; clouds of bushes hide
the crouching dominions for half the year
and possessed by the joy of privacy
or perhaps a hidden fear
of one of the driversby
catching a glimpse
of their neglected front
the peeling paint or overgrown lawns
these houses stayed veiled
until comes autumn
with then growing winds and faded sun
cause the carefully constructed curtain of foliage to fall
and the bare trees are windows to these homes' bluffs
whose glory or grotesqueness are disguised.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Taking Lives
Why do there always have to be people in our lives who take more than we can give, who need more than they can express, and who drain us of all of our resources? It's not like I have much to give that anyone else would need, but for some reason, it seems like, since about the time I became uncool and unneeded, there have been people like that who jump into my life and take.
Raven used to call me every night and talk for two hours on the phone about the guys she thought she loved, the way she was treated by them, her family, TV shows, and anything else that came to mind. One time she called me and told me she wanted to kill herself, and all I did, as a very unwise eighth grader, was listen to her talk and tell her that I'd pray for her.
Karen was the kind of girl who tricked herself to think she was friends with popular people and would get crushed every time they blew her off or she realized that they didn't like her at all. She'd sit by me in math class and ask for help all the time, and even though I always knew the answers, she scored better than me on all of my math tests. She'd always run to me when her feelings got hurt, but it was kind of hard to be supportive when she blew me off to try and be popular.
Kelli is lonely. She grew up in a family of six kids, but now she lives by herself and works a part-time job. She called me today just to talk. And I wanted to eat my peanut-butter sandwich and finish getting ready for work. I only had an hour at home, and she used up half of it. And she wants to hang out some time.
Then there are the scores of lonely, hurt, popularity-seeking teenagers who walk into my life and beg for attention. And the four-year-olds who can't stop asking for hugs and tapping my shoulder to interrupt my conversations with co-workers. And the fourteen other Kellis, Ravens, and Karents that will at some point be part of my life and want--need attention and care that I just might not be able to give.
But I seem to remember something about His power being made perfect in our weaknesses, and a promise to carry my burdens. Because He cares for me. And I guess, if caring for people reflects Him, I should still do it even when it wears me out and drives me crazy, and even when the people who take can't give back.
Raven used to call me every night and talk for two hours on the phone about the guys she thought she loved, the way she was treated by them, her family, TV shows, and anything else that came to mind. One time she called me and told me she wanted to kill herself, and all I did, as a very unwise eighth grader, was listen to her talk and tell her that I'd pray for her.
Karen was the kind of girl who tricked herself to think she was friends with popular people and would get crushed every time they blew her off or she realized that they didn't like her at all. She'd sit by me in math class and ask for help all the time, and even though I always knew the answers, she scored better than me on all of my math tests. She'd always run to me when her feelings got hurt, but it was kind of hard to be supportive when she blew me off to try and be popular.
Kelli is lonely. She grew up in a family of six kids, but now she lives by herself and works a part-time job. She called me today just to talk. And I wanted to eat my peanut-butter sandwich and finish getting ready for work. I only had an hour at home, and she used up half of it. And she wants to hang out some time.
Then there are the scores of lonely, hurt, popularity-seeking teenagers who walk into my life and beg for attention. And the four-year-olds who can't stop asking for hugs and tapping my shoulder to interrupt my conversations with co-workers. And the fourteen other Kellis, Ravens, and Karents that will at some point be part of my life and want--need attention and care that I just might not be able to give.
But I seem to remember something about His power being made perfect in our weaknesses, and a promise to carry my burdens. Because He cares for me. And I guess, if caring for people reflects Him, I should still do it even when it wears me out and drives me crazy, and even when the people who take can't give back.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
The Community
I just got home from church, and I feel really good. It was the first service in quite a while that was exactly what I wanted/needed. First thing that happened was I couldn't find a parking spot. It irritated me, but it made me glad too.
Then I was early (intentionally) so I bought a donut and sat in the gym at a table with this random girl. I didn't know who she was, but we got to talking. She's new to the church, so I sat wtih her at service. IT reminded me of how I like doing that, how my weakness in ability to make conversation is totally compensated for by Daniel, who can talk to any random person for an hour, and how grateful people are that I do it even when I don't have anything to talk about.
Service was awesome. I realized while the choir was singing that one thing I love about my church is that they are able to worship in so many different ways. They aren't stuck to bluehair on the organ, or five-piece band rocking out, or choir, or whatever. They do it differently every week, and every week, I watch people lift their hands and sing and shout and truly worship. It's still pretty reserved, but it's worship. Today was no different, except for the reserved part. They were singing a Brooklyn Tab song that was kind of soulful. First the black lady from the worship team stood at the front of the sanctuary, and before the end of the song, a good third of the people were satnding, swaying and singing. It was good times. By the time the congregation joined for singing, we were all ready to worship. It was just reallyl cool.
The other thing I realized that I like about my church is how grace-oriented, but evangelisticlly minded they are. It's an incredible blend that works so well. Mixed with the overlaying emphasis on servant leadership, they do an awesome job of discipling and equipping people from every place in their Christian walk. I know that sounds vague, but if I went into examples, I would talk forever.
I was getting kind of tired of the sermons and some other things at church, but today reminded me of how beautiful of a place it is. And then the sermon was about teaming up for evangelism, how we are part of the big Church of the world, and we rely on one another and on God to get the work done. He preached over a passage that has forever confused me (Luke 10, which is about the same as Matthew 10), and it started to make a little more sense.
Anyway, I just wanted to share my excitement. I know this was poorly written, but I was too happy to concern myself with that.
Then I was early (intentionally) so I bought a donut and sat in the gym at a table with this random girl. I didn't know who she was, but we got to talking. She's new to the church, so I sat wtih her at service. IT reminded me of how I like doing that, how my weakness in ability to make conversation is totally compensated for by Daniel, who can talk to any random person for an hour, and how grateful people are that I do it even when I don't have anything to talk about.
Service was awesome. I realized while the choir was singing that one thing I love about my church is that they are able to worship in so many different ways. They aren't stuck to bluehair on the organ, or five-piece band rocking out, or choir, or whatever. They do it differently every week, and every week, I watch people lift their hands and sing and shout and truly worship. It's still pretty reserved, but it's worship. Today was no different, except for the reserved part. They were singing a Brooklyn Tab song that was kind of soulful. First the black lady from the worship team stood at the front of the sanctuary, and before the end of the song, a good third of the people were satnding, swaying and singing. It was good times. By the time the congregation joined for singing, we were all ready to worship. It was just reallyl cool.
The other thing I realized that I like about my church is how grace-oriented, but evangelisticlly minded they are. It's an incredible blend that works so well. Mixed with the overlaying emphasis on servant leadership, they do an awesome job of discipling and equipping people from every place in their Christian walk. I know that sounds vague, but if I went into examples, I would talk forever.
I was getting kind of tired of the sermons and some other things at church, but today reminded me of how beautiful of a place it is. And then the sermon was about teaming up for evangelism, how we are part of the big Church of the world, and we rely on one another and on God to get the work done. He preached over a passage that has forever confused me (Luke 10, which is about the same as Matthew 10), and it started to make a little more sense.
Anyway, I just wanted to share my excitement. I know this was poorly written, but I was too happy to concern myself with that.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Disquieted
Disquieted
There’s a disquieted feeling
when I think about you that night
remember you walking away
uneasy smile and nonchalant goodbye
as if everything was OK
Something inside of you worried,
parts of your life that made you afraid
Things hidden under the eyeliner and set jawpain
bigger than the things we talk about
I wonder if you could tell I saw
or if I pretended too well, played along with your game
while you were crying out and hoping inside
and I was waiting until it was too late.
My mind fills with suggestions
when I think of you that night
remember you walking away
Your relieved expression
like a dog unlocked from its cage.
and me, wishing I could say more or do something to help
becuase I know everything was not OK
and you’re just as disquietedas my spirit was when we met
There’s a disquieted feeling
when I think about you that night
remember you walking away
uneasy smile and nonchalant goodbye
as if everything was OK
Something inside of you worried,
parts of your life that made you afraid
Things hidden under the eyeliner and set jawpain
bigger than the things we talk about
I wonder if you could tell I saw
or if I pretended too well, played along with your game
while you were crying out and hoping inside
and I was waiting until it was too late.
My mind fills with suggestions
when I think of you that night
remember you walking away
Your relieved expression
like a dog unlocked from its cage.
and me, wishing I could say more or do something to help
becuase I know everything was not OK
and you’re just as disquietedas my spirit was when we met
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Confession of my secret love for the blogging community
Is it a guilty pleasure? To be ennamoured with the personal thoughts of people who normally don't have a chance to share their personal thoughts? To want to know what "celebs" think about every day life, love and godliness? To sit for an hour a day and read through the insights, feelings and thoughts they've decided to share with the world(wide web)?
I love blogging. I don't like writing them as much as I like reading them, and my favorite part about blogging is that you can leave comments. It's like an interactive magazine with all of your favorite people! It's wonderful. It makes me so happy.
Yesterday I was thinking about Shaun Groves' blog, and wishing that more of my favorite artists had one. Then I found Chris Rice's! Yay. I suppose it's a small pleasure, and it really doesn't matter to anyone else, but I'm finding a certain element of my personal growth in blogging, the intelligent discussion from the standpoint of respected (and disrespected) people. It's great. Everyone should have one, and everyone should say more than "I ate tacos for supper. Then I got sick. And Joey's going out with Becky and I'm soooo jealous." Or whatever. I guess there's a place for those kinds of entries too, but, like conversations, they really don't take you very far.
I love blogging. I don't like writing them as much as I like reading them, and my favorite part about blogging is that you can leave comments. It's like an interactive magazine with all of your favorite people! It's wonderful. It makes me so happy.
Yesterday I was thinking about Shaun Groves' blog, and wishing that more of my favorite artists had one. Then I found Chris Rice's! Yay. I suppose it's a small pleasure, and it really doesn't matter to anyone else, but I'm finding a certain element of my personal growth in blogging, the intelligent discussion from the standpoint of respected (and disrespected) people. It's great. Everyone should have one, and everyone should say more than "I ate tacos for supper. Then I got sick. And Joey's going out with Becky and I'm soooo jealous." Or whatever. I guess there's a place for those kinds of entries too, but, like conversations, they really don't take you very far.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Tedious Living
Last night I was driving to work and I realized that writing is my primary method of handling stress. I started writing again this week, so it got me thinking, wondering if I was actually stressed right now, because it often doesn't feel like I am, even though I am. I don't know if that makes sense, but it takes me a while to figure out why I get symptoms of stress. So in that fifteen minute drive, I thought things through. I'm stressed. Not by anything big like job-loss or sickness, but the little things that are supposed to be in place in life, the things that cause a person to be secure, aren't all secure right now.
There are too many things to list, and I won't list, lest you lose interest (tribute to bad poetry).
Like I said, it isn't a lot of stuff that directly affects me. It's stuff like my mom having knee surgery and making me realize that our bodies are tired and weak, and you only get one chance to do it right. And my brother and sister-in-law getting accepted to be missionaries in Kazakstan and planning to leave within two years. And my husbands grandparents who are experiencing the final phases of their lives on earth. And my best friend probably won't be single forever and have lots of time to invest in friendship with me. And other inconsistancies that shake my sense of security.
I don't feel hopeless or lost. I guess I just feel kind of... tired. There's always good that can spring out of bad, and even if there isn't, there's hope and belief in the goodness of God to carry and sustain. But times like this make life feel tedious. And that's when I wonder what I'm doing wrong.
There are too many things to list, and I won't list, lest you lose interest (tribute to bad poetry).
Like I said, it isn't a lot of stuff that directly affects me. It's stuff like my mom having knee surgery and making me realize that our bodies are tired and weak, and you only get one chance to do it right. And my brother and sister-in-law getting accepted to be missionaries in Kazakstan and planning to leave within two years. And my husbands grandparents who are experiencing the final phases of their lives on earth. And my best friend probably won't be single forever and have lots of time to invest in friendship with me. And other inconsistancies that shake my sense of security.
I don't feel hopeless or lost. I guess I just feel kind of... tired. There's always good that can spring out of bad, and even if there isn't, there's hope and belief in the goodness of God to carry and sustain. But times like this make life feel tedious. And that's when I wonder what I'm doing wrong.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Disney Has Some Explaining to Do
I think as good, honest hard-working american citizens, we need to boycott Disney. Today. They are discriminatory biggots who give no regard to consistent thinking. Here's my reasoning:
Why should one dog get to be personified as a regular, doofy guy who tries hard but fails, and still ultimately ends up in a better situation, while one dog has to crawl around on the ground and be subserviant to of all things, a MOUSE, while yet another gruop of dogs are portrayed as good-natured criminals who cheat, lie and steal? Are not all dogs created equally? In real life, dogs are all like Pluto. They don't
raise kids, rival with their neighbors over who has a better, bigger house, create elaborate schemes to steal money from talking ducks, or play sports (with the exception of frisbee).So I am calling on all of you who live within the peramiters of reality to notify Disney of your decision to boycott their ridiculous portrayals of kid, loyal animals. Tell th
em to give equal rights to all dogs, beagle, terrior, hound, or whatever he may be. It's time for this foolishness to stop, and it begins with you.If we don't do something before it's too late, Disney will be personifying their select versions of cats, birds, horses, even pidgeons, while leaving others of the same species to play menial roles, crawling on the ground, begging for food, and causing trouble. It isn't fair. It isn't right. Let's change this while we can.
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