"Arise, come, hasten, let us abandon to the city to merchants, attorneys, brokers, usurers, tax gatherers, scriveners, doctors, perfumers, butchers, cooks, bakers and tailors, alchemists, painters, mimes, dancers, lute players, quacks, panderers, thieves, criminals, adulterers, parasites, foreigners, swindlers and jesters, gluttons who with scent alert catch the odor of the market place, for whom that is the only bliss, whose mouths are agape for that alone."
Francesco Petrarch, De Vita Solitaria, 1356

I went to the river today and walked back home through the pasture.

Thinking of everything between almost falling in love and almost wanting to commit to celibacy. Both seem so idealistic, so refreshingly different from the life I lead now. Marriage and forever living to serve a family is my heart, it is what I know I have learned to be sufficiency and completeness. Yet I am finding more and more that a life that is committed to being celibate, for me at least, seems a life that is so centered around knowing Jesus and serving him. When Corinthians 7 talks about the man giving his virgin in marriage being a good thing, but follows it by saying keeping her is better I cannot help but think that Paul must have been on to something here.

So here I am almost falling in love. I know. Aren't you shocked? Did you ever think you'd see the day? I didn't. I never thought I could let my guard down enough to let someone else be my guard and I find myself more and more every day. I find myself wanting less and less to be protected by my idealistic sentiments of what romance is and find myself instead wanting to be loved by the most human person I've ever met.

So here I am wanting to commit to a life of celibacy - undistracted devotion towards my Father. A life of consequential living marked by a desire to serve only my God and nothing else. I find myself thinking of what my life would look like if I chose to live in obedience to every thought that came from my Father and ceased striving for some sort of perfection in just the big things. My life is so selfish. So self centered. So me-centric.

There is too much of life that I haven't grasped yet and find that I am trying less to capture it, as much as I am trying more to understand it. Life isn't meant to be understood always, just lived. Living causes understanding - and all too often I forget the former and by default, never getting the latter.

So I want to understand the why's. I want to grasp the how's. I want to live unhindered by a world that is so fragile and minuscule in the greater sphere of being.


I want to embrace the thought of obedience and forget myself for even an instant - just to taste it. Just to know for one time what it is like to be unselfish.

I am feeling:

Selfish.
Guarded.
Quiet.
Reflective.
Needed
Desired.
Desiring.
Apprehensive.
Scared.
Needy.
Torn.
Mistaken.
Underestimated.
Overestimated.

A bit unnecessary.

That which I hate, I do, and that which I know is right I don't do - which makes for a life that is rejecting the promises consciously, however much I say I want them.

I sin on purpose.

Knowing the difference.

Knowing the cost.

And yet, never counting it.

Tonight on my way to my meeting I stopped at the Partridge to get an ice chai and a muffin for supper [yes - I ate]. I found it amusing that I had to teach the girl at the counter how to make an iced Chai. Not amusing like I could do something she couldn't, I don't want to give that impression. But amusing that I actually said something about the fact that she was giving me lumpy chai! My mother would flip and be so proud of me. I never ever ever protest anything and I did today. Though it reminds me of the part in You've Got Mail when Kathleen Kelly is complaining as Shopgirl to Joe Fox as Birkleywhatever about how she can never say what she means to say when she means to say it, but that she always thinks of it later. And Joe replies to her that someday she will. Say what she means to say, I mean. And the moment she does, she'll regret it.

And so, I did. I walked out of the coffee shop and thought, i just corrected that girl. of course I wasn't mean, I'm not even sure I know how to be mean, but I stepped on her toes and hated myself for it.

And than I remembered grace. So i went in and apologized to her. I think she thought I was crazy. It's okay, she said. It's okay. And I knew it was, but hearing her say it was better than not.

ON the way home I marveled at the fact that last night at the very same time I was driving home lit by the most beautiful full moon. Tonight I marvel that that very same full moon was missing. A lacking in the otherwise perfect sky. And I was sad. Because somewhere between last night and tonight the world has come in full circle and I'm not sure I have at anything.

So, goodnight.

Artistic Love-Affairs With Self

Was listening to Gershwin today. The thought occurs to me that Gershwin wasn't alone in his ever present quest for a love that eluded him. Perhaps it is an artistic nature thing; we always suppose the world is revolving without us, only it isn't, it's just revolving around other people besides us.

So the thought then occurs to me that perhaps the world needn't revolved around me or you or any of our thoughts or songs or natures, but simply ought to go on revolving unbeknownst to us, which is fine. It is. It really is. I'm not trying to convince you, I'm trying to convince myself. I like the idea of life going on forgetting that I exist, in theory. It is a pleasant, almost idealistic theory that leaves you thinking of endless possibilities - and a sour taste resembling that of being unnecessary.

So I begin thinking of the necessity of us. Of being. Not just being us, but of being at all. Of our purpose. Of our future, no not the future you or I will see, but the future - generations gone by. Of the here and now. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. Or why the sea is boiling hot and whether Pigs have wings.

Not really.

But I still wonder.


Eleven Green Chairs

My mom has been trying to barter with the antique store down the road, to give her eleven green leather conference chairs from the early nineteen hundreds at 75 dollars a chair instead of the $110 they are asking. I'm not saying anything either way, but what are we going to do with eleven green leather conference chairs from the early nineteen hundreds?

I know she has great taste and even greater ideas, but unless she's planning on setting up a law office or a library, what does she have in mind for all these chairs?

Rotted Boards and 'Fraid Nots

Did you ever try so hard to be a bridge and the only thing that seems to happen is when finally you succeed in being one, but it ends up being the kind you see in adventure movies with the parties involved slipping through one of the boards and hanging on for dear life?

I feel like that now, only I'm not sure, like the movies, that the good guys will win.

This sucks.

To put it bluntly.

Quote

There is a quote, and I cannot quote it exactly, so it may be plagiarism, but I think there may be some sort of literary license since this is only my journal and nothing more.

The quote I copied down from Sheldon VanAuken's experience with his childhood sweetheart, his god, his boat, C. S. Lewis and ultimately his God, in his book A Severe Mercy [which I highly recommend. Your romantics will love the first half, your skeptics will love the second, and those caught somewhere in-between, also known as artists, will love the entire thing.]. It is the beautiful love story of Van Aukens Journey from gnosticism to atheism to Christendom. In it he speaks of a time he spent in Oxford with Lewis:

"One night at Magdelen we talked. . . about that something we're longing for, whether it be an island in the west or the other side of a mountain or perhaps a schooner yacht, long for it in the belief that it will mean joy, which it never fully does, because what we're really longing for is God."

Everytime I find myself longing for something, anything tangible and touchable. Anything that will soon leave, or perhaps not so soon, but leave just the same. Things that somehow when I look at the whole picture, don't matter much to the sphere of life or influence - I think of this quote and realize that it isn't just more that I want, I just want more of God.

This consoles me; at least for a while.

Some notes I knotted down at the concert tonight. See if I can do justice to any.

Pay at the door.
Mormans.
Sinless by choice.
Vulnerability.

Not necessarily in that order, but one lines to remind me later of my at the time thoughts.

SINLESS BY CHOICE
On the way there Jax was sharing a concern of hers, and while she usually is the one giving advice to my listening ear, tonight we switched at her request, 'I'm tired of always being the talkative one, speak to me. Speak into me.' And so I did. My concern for her situation was not the normalities of what crushing on a boy does for you, although that is certainly a concern, but more so how crushing on a boy is only a surface issue of a much deeper need. Sin. I was reminded of my virtually sinless friend whom will remain unamed for this post and whom I have been thinking quite a lot of recently. Not because he's perfect, but because somewhere along the way, and it may not have been an overnight change, but somewhere he made a decision. A choice to remain as free from sin and as committed to a life of Christ as he could, without becoming legalistic. And he has done it. I have never once heard a complaint, an angry word, a gossiping spirit, even a single word spoken in frustration toward anyone. Never. Oh, it's not that he's perfect. No. It's just that he has realized the value in living a life that is consecrated to Christ. He's not in it to look good, no, he's past that. He has come to the point of realizing his sinfullness, knowing there is nothing he can do about changing his status quo as a sinner, and yet knowing he can change his attitude about the daily things of life. Oh, he struggles, I know. But there is a visable difference in his life.

So today at the lunch table I made a rash comment about wishing I was as good as this guy. I caught myself from my next comment though. It was this, wishing I was as anointed as him. No, no. He has something yes, but not simply anointing, he has faith. He has faith that no matter what the situation, he always has a choice in how to handle it. React and he'll end up repenting, but remain neutral and he has won before the battle has begun.

My counsel to Jax wasn't to forget about the boy, or to consider her future husband, or even just hope it will eventually go away, but no, my counsel was to make a decision, daily if need be. But make a decision to come up higher in her life. No, she won't be void of sin, but she will see sin for what it is when it is present in her life.

And so once again I am reminded of my own lack in this area. So sinful and yet not committed to any sort of betterment for myself in this area. I treat sin as if it weren't some black death. As if it were just a simple untimely inconveience.

SINLESS BY CHOICE II: Pay at the Door
TOnight we went to The Fields to hear Josh and his birth father do an ethnic concert. Josh of course on percussion, and his father on ethnic pipes of all kinds. We entered in the back door, ordered and paid for our iced chai and found a table somewhat close to the stage. Once there and waiting for Josh and D to arrive Jax happened to see a sign by the door that demanded an ungodly price of 10 dollars for the concert tonight. She grumbled and complained saying we tour with Josh for petes sake, we're not paying ten bucks to hear him play, no matter HOW good he is [which is darn good, I may add]. After about four minutes of sitting there I began to feel a pit in my stomach, knowing that we ought to pay and yet knowing I had not the funds nor the desire to leave our table and get a ticket from Justin at the door. After much squirming and seeing my eyes move cautiously back adn forth to the door and the stage jax finally said, 'Go. You're feeling guilty about not paying and I don't want you to go against your conscience. Go. We'll find you afterwards.' But I didn't. I didn't. I just sat there and made the decision to go against my conscience and sat there and sinned. Of course I felt horribly guilty about it, even after Josh cam
e and hung out with us later and made sure none of us paid to get in 'Why that would be OBSURD!!!' But even though my counsel to jax had just been to make a decision to live a sinfree life, I sat and sinned.

This just reminded me once again, how it is not a one time decision, but one which I have to make over and over and over, until I am even released of one vice.

MORMANS
This is not a long one hopefully. Actually, it's more a question.
In the past few weeks I have been in more places where two young men, usually quite goodlooking, in their black pants and white cotton shirts stand trying to convince someone to convert to their faith, than in my entire life. Although I think that is a bit of an exaggeration, as I think I just am noticing them since I've been thinking about this subject. My question is this: what is it about the Morman faith that so captures the hearts of their young men and turns them into commited missionaries, enough to fill a town our size with at least four different pairs? What captures them? what do they have that we don't?

And than I remember. We have fear. The devil finds no need to discourage them from the mission, their mission is one that he invented with his own two hands, but we. Yes we. We have a mission that he fights with every ounce of his being, every bit of his strength. We are burdened by a bondage of fear - fear which they, well, they can't even know the beginning of.

VULNERABILITY
Also hopefully a short one.

I was people watching as usual tonight and as I looked around the room I found so many people, comfortable sometimes to the point of sleep [the music was very soothing at times, other times it was, mmmmm, definetely ethnic dancing music!], some just nodding their heads or tapping their hands to the beat of the djembes and congas - or the lulling sound of a bamboo whistle causing their eyes to close, whether in sleep or simply calm I don't know. I only know that when i am there, in that dimly lit room, roofed in ivy and blue blown glass balls I find a degree of vulnerability there that is unlikely to be seen anywhere else near me. I like that.

It happens usually once a season, perhaps twice depending on the release date of Pottery Barns newest catolog. The nesting urge.

The desire to buy shelving units. And picture frames. Find more black and white photography. Pick out shades of green. Make homemade pasta. Fold and stack some wool blankets. Sort laundry. Hang out laundry. Page through cookbooks. Make mint garden tea. Dust. Mop and wax the kitchen floor. And mop and wax it again. Clean my bookshelves, stand the books up in order instead of lying wherever they've been placed in the past three months. Paint something. Repaint it. Wish, once again, I had two maple trees and a hammock. Stay home. Stay home some more. Find a basket that just fits. Fill it with old kept magazines. Wash pillowcases. Wear a sweater and leave it unbuttoned.

Buy a house. Make a home.

Being.

Am thinking about many numbers of things:

Duncan Sheik and Sun Rays.
Mexican Jumping Beans and Dolphins.
Blindness and Radio Waves.
Baby steps and Generations.
Airplanes and Burlap.
Snow and Geese.
Fingers and Cumulus Clouds.
They Might Be Giants and Roadtrips.
Comic Books and Classic literature.
Marbles and Manhunts.

Am thinking about many numbers of things, none of which seem relevant to the here and now, or the present state in which I find myself.

Melancholy.
Apathetic.
Introverted.
Desiring.
Blurred Vision of what Really Matters.
- Selfish -

Am wondering what it is that holds us together. Of course it is God, but what holds us, keeps us from turning around and running the other direction? I run. I run all the time knowing full well that I'm blessed and forgiven, I run to that which offeres false comfort and a timed respite - instead of pure correction and endless relief.

Knowing full well.

Am hungry always. I need to learn to eat. I need to remember to eat. Isn't that why we experience hunger? To remind us to eat? Why is that I forget.

Why do I forget that my hunger isn't limited to the physical and ignore the pain of spiritual hunger?

The non-existant butterflies in my stomach are pretending to make their presence known.

I choose to ignore them and consider instead the reason for their being.

I, very irresponsibly, kept three seventeen year olds out until 12pm last night. Granted the purpose was good, a youth outreach for an church we planted, but the time was decidedly bad.

I realized my mistake this morning, when one called to say that she wouldn't be able to make it to have a meeting with me today, due to the trouble she got in for being late. Although to say realized is a bit more stubbornly prideful than it ought to be. I was made aware, how's that?

So it was time to reintroduce some of that 'generational building' I pretend to be so excited about when it's not called for, and drag my feet when it's occupation is in need. I dragged my feet [on the gas pedal] to her house today to ask forgiveness of her parents and when I arrived they weren't there. Of course the non-existant butterflies settled down at once as I was 'made aware' that they were unnecessary, for the present. But the feeling still remains.

Why does the idea of tying a generation span together so fasincate me in theory, but in practice so inhibit me?

blank pages have two effects on me. One being a vulnerable feeling, how can I ever fill this page with something worthy to be written or drawn? Or two, a fresh clean feeling, like I can conqueor the world with my blank page. The knowledge that I could, if I really tried, is there, but the knowledge that I won't, or that it won't compare, is pressing closely.

Each time I begin a new paper journal this inadaquacy comes over me and I somehow thought it would be different since I was typing it on livejournal [which, btw, I am convinced ought to be called lifejournal instead] this time. It's not. The vulnerability is still ever present and I am not sure how best to go about changing it.

I guess to just write. Because, after all, it is just paper and not even tangiable at that.

I hesitate to just write for the sake of writing, but I find the need to make something on this new journal pressing. I suppose it all comes back to my dislike of processes. I only want a done product. ha ha

I have nothing to say. yet.

Was it real or did I imagine?

Sitting here at the office, hidden perhaps behind the computer consol, on the phone with a representative from Chicago, an unfamiliar man invades my space.

He doesn't see me, and I am silent as the caller speaks. He walks over to the refrigerator and takes out a liter of milk. He has it one inch from his lips as he turns around inspecting his surroundings, and suddenly he sees me. The ring at the top is only a breath away from his mouth. He grins at me. I grin back. He deliberately walks to the cabinet and picks out a green plastic cup. He shows me and pours one fourth of a glass into it, after which he replaces the bottle to its safe haven. He gives a slight nod of his head, as if we have come to some sort of agreement, winks and leaves the room.

I dip my head and laugh silently, as I am still listening to endless talk of prices and purchases.

A shared moment, neither of us planned and will probably not remember tonight, but one which two minds conspired a compromise agreeable to both.

"Sure, Mr Dooley, I'll send out those forms right away

Has a scene so familliar, so verbatem, so rehersed ever passed before your eyes in such a way that you know it must be deja vu?

And it's not?

Today such a scene passed in front of me.

And I smiled. But it was a sad smile, because once again the feeling of familiiarity was frightening and I wished it would leave.

It didn't.

I lay him down to sleep. His translucent flesh tone printing a map of veins to a treasure I'm unsure of. His blond strands, silky to touch - barely there and so clear. His blue eyes. Bluer than denim jeans and the Pacific Ocean. His nose, stretching and wrinkling in his sleep. The little hands that when awake are tightly clasped holding on to that which he wants so desperately and when asleep so empty and loose. The fingers that barely look long enough to hold anything and yet demand so much from my one finger. His yet unarched feet, dirty from the sandpile and still so clean and babylike - untouched by calluses and unhindered by knowledge of where those feet can take him. His smile. Five teeth and more incoming. The smile that stretches from his chin to his hairline and sometimes to his knees. The smile that occasionally leaves and the angry frown which substitutes in it's place. He has small ears. Out of place on the sides of his face because he is so very tiny and some parts forget to grow along when he finally does.

He stirs a bit and I wonder if he knows I am still there, leaning over the edge of his crib, learning his face, his person. Wonder if it comforts him to know that he is loved, or if he, like the rest of us, just takes it for granted. I wonder what he will be, if he will be, which way he will go and whom he will take with him. Will his eyes always be so blue, or will they change as he grows - like his feet which will take the shape of an adult. Does he know the things I wish for him? Does he care? Will he realize the things I wish for him? Will he care? Will he love me at age five when I tell him to clean up his room? At seventeen when I give him my first car, then beaten and used with age? Will he still love me when my children call him Uncle and they are playmates? Will he love me when on his fortieth birthday we parade him in black and Over The Hill captions? Will he know how much I cared for him when he is a grandfather and I am a great-grandmother and remembers that once I changed his diapers? When I am old and he is still young?

Do I remember and know?

Speaking of "Top Ten Books You Must Read Before You Eat Dinner", here is mine off the top of my head. Prepare for adjustments later.

Of course the famed and rarereviewed
S. Morgansterns Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure, The Princess Bride - William Goldman
-Here an addendum, even if you hated the movie, or even if you loved it, the book is a must read. Orson Scott Card
in his book -Character And Viewpoints- speaks highly of this book, and I cannot quote exactly, as a literary success in that William Goldman causes a degree of reader participation that no other book has seemed to capture yet. Read it. You'll like it.

Jerry Bridges - The Disciplines Of Grace
- This book changed the way I look at Grace, not simply as a gift, but a gift which must not be abused. Amazing how it changes your perspective on God as your Father.

Norton Juster The Phantom Tollbooth
- You'll never waste time again.

Madeleline L'engle; Walking On Water
-Puts faith, even tried faith, in simple and eloquent terms. A book which will not leave you treading water in desperation.

Douglas Wilson; Fidelity
- Is this what we've made of love? Oh God let it not be so. This book redefines every inkling of 'love' you think you've ever had. Purity.

C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia
- I know, I know, everyone talks about them, they're overrated. . . but they're not. Read them. They will transform your veiw on the Christian Life and God as we know Him.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Cost of Disciplship
- Understand what is required of us as Followers, requires us understand what is required to die. Phenomenal reading. Phenomenal life changes.

Francine Rivers' Redeeming Love
- I have never been one to read a romance novel - they reek of stale hopes and false promises of a love that doesn't exist in real life, but after being convinced that this book would change the way I see GOD'S LOVE I read it. The story of Gomar and Hosea in the Bible described Gods love for a retribute nation, this book relates in more modern terms this kind of love. Everytime I try to somehow repent and clean myself by some false acts of surrender I am reminded of this book. It is a work of art.

Ah two more. . . I'm getting kind of tired and finding the links for all these is harder than I thought =)

Okay no links for these two -

Sigmund Brouwer - The Weeping Chamber
- I'm not one to typically weep during a book, but never has another book [besides the Bible =)]driven me to such utter disbelief in what Jesus suffered before his death- and to what purpose. If you can only read one book on this list, make it this one. it will help you to appreciate a cross so much more, and stand in awe of suffering in a way you cannot imagine.

Ed. Lynn R. Miller - Ten Acres Enough
-This is just a fun book to read, everyone ought to, whether they live in a townhouse in Philly or a shack in Wyoming. Relates the life of a farmer who lived off of ten acres completely sufficiently. I loved it!

Regarding absolution: Seek; Find; Completed.

Absolution doesn't end with some false sense of comfort. Some facade of relief. It ends when we stand with authority and declare it so. We have been absolved though Christ since the cross, it is only for ourselves that we find we need some proof of God's providence. Like Him saying it wasn't enough, always we need more. Until we have somehow come to the place where life meets sin and sin in turn meets grace and we find than, and only than, that what we were looking for -justification- was never so far off after all. Just a simple declaration of 'It Is Finished' is enough.

Why are we such a faithless people? Why have we come to such a place in existence where it takes a sign, a feeling, an experience for us to believe that He is Who He said He was? Have humans always been this way? Of course they have, Eve believed a slimy self-proclaimed god before she believed the One Who created her, the One Who formed her from a simple bone. She lacked and therefore began a stumbling people who will never quite understand, or perhaps don't want to understand what is meant by the words ' I am Your God. '

God forgive me. I go through life trying to find some shred of acceptance from You, all the while sitting at Your feet, lavished with Your blessings and still I don't see that which stares me in the face. You already HAVE giving me everything. I don't have to look for the ways in which You have said 'It Is Finished', the reason I know is because You Have Said It. Your promises hold no weak or ill means, no trades or dishonest dealings, no bargains, no bribes, no ultimatums. You promise Yes.

Why, sometimes, do we find one mirrored human, so likeminded that we cannot help but wonder - why aren't we better friends? Why don't we talk forever about everything that we concern ourselves with and be silent as long about the things we still want to ponder for a while? Why are we so shy around one another in a way that makes it seem almost uncomfortable and uncertain? And other times why are we so comfortable and certain with one another that others cannot help but look on and wonder if we've known each other an eternity?

I have found one such person in my life. One. One person in whose heart it cries the same things mine does:

Simplicity.

And in that simplicity a whole host of things that make that word more complicated than it ought to be.

Why can't we just be friends? Uncomplicated relationship with no strings, but those we tie on ourselves, attached?

Because life isn't about being in relationships in pairs. Otherwise the New Testement wouldn't have spoken so strongly about gossip. Gossip takes at least three parties involved and that is why we aren't friends. Why we find it so easy to be compatible and so hard to be comfortable. I hate it.

As an addendum (to that which was previously written) (in my journal earlier):

"This is me. All abridging remarks and other comments will be in this fancy italics type so you'll know. When I said at the start what I'd never read this book, that's true. My father read it to me, and I just quick skimmed along, crossing out whole sections when I did the abridging, leaving everything just as it was in the original MOrganstern.
This chapter is totally intact. My intrusion here is because of the way MOrganstern uses parentheses. The copy editor at Harcourt kept filling the margins of the galley proofs with questions: 'How can it be before Europe but after Paris?' And 'How is it possible that this happens before glamour when glamour is an ancient concept? See "glamour" in the Oxford English Dictionary.' And eventually: ' I am going crazy. What am I to make of these parentheses? When does this book take place? I don't understand anything. helllllpppppp!!!!!!' Denise, the copy editor has done all my books since Boys And Girls Together and she had never been as emotional in the margins with me before.
I couldn't help her:
Either Morganstern meant them seriously or he didn't. Or maybe he meant some of them seriously and some others he didn/t. But he never said which were the serious ones. Or maybe it was just the authors way of telling the reader stylistically that 'this is real; it never happened.' Thats what I think, in spite of the fact that is you read back into Florinese history, it did happen. The facts, anyway; no one can sayabout the actually motivations. All I can suggest to you is, if the parentheses bug you, don't read them. "
-William Goldmen on S. Morgansterns Classic tale of True Love and High Adventure: The Princess Bride

THis all to say, if my overuse of parentheses bugs you, don't read them. But read this book if you get a chance. It's on my top ten list of 'books you must read before you eat dinner.'

My heart has been crying recently. I find my humanity ever pressing. I talk about humanity a lot I guess. Maybe because I see my own nature more often than I see anything else - and it most times disgusts me. I have been immersing myself in some things the past few weeks and have come to see these thoughts mirroring my own.

" "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world," You have an anointing from the Holy One: live by it! Give yourself to God; live for him wholly and utterly; see to it that, where you are personally are concerned, the things of this world are scored off satan's books and transferred to God account. For the world passes away and the lust thereof; but he that does the will of God abides forever."
-Watchman Nee; Love Not The World

This by Watchman Nee has so begun centering who I am in this great big world. Living by a standard set by God and less by one set up of men.

"When we commit ourselves to the pursuit of holiness, we need to ensure that our commitment is actually to God, not simply to a holy lifestyle or a set of moral values. The people of my parents generation were generally honest, chaste, sober, and thrifty. They were committed to those values, but they were not necessarily committed to God. Many of them were outstanding moralist and even church people, but they were not committed to God. They were committed to their values, but NOT TO GOD. "
- Jerry Bridges; The Discipline of Grace, God's Role and Our Role in the Pursuit of Holiness

Oh, you who know me, know how much I commit to my values - to the point where they become oh so legalistic and it becomes a hated trap of what some call 'self-control', yet what I know is a trap of bound living. I want to commit my life wholly and consecrated to GOD.

Finish up your coffee love
it's getting cold
lets finish up this fight tonight
cause the sun draws neigh and I'm old

have mercy on me, I'm a girl
though I'm cruel and you cry
I won't shiver, cause I know how to break a man in two

still you're suffering my love
o, who's to blame
you might be tired, but I'm not through fanning the flame

o, by the tidings of my tongue
i lie and sing what can't be unsung
my soul torn in two by the things I say to you
by the things I say to you

o, I know how to break a man. . . in two
- jen knapp; The Way I Am: In Two [the lament]

Well, I can't say this touches me for the argument that seems to be ensuing, but rather the line 'I know how to break a man in two'. I forget, all girls do, how much leeway we pull in the opposite sex. Our words, quickly and rash, break them. We can say they deserve it, but it's not true. It never is. No one deserves it, equally not you. But, it is our words that BREAK them. Their words merely scar us.

"Perhaps we must accept our brokenness and not try to repress it before we can affirm the goodness of Good Friday, and all that it promises. We are all broken, we human creatures, and to pretend we're not is to inhibit healing. It is people who consider themselves whole who tell me that the Christian promises are false, but as I look at these 'whole' people I see that they are in fact less 'whole' than some who admit their brokenness."
- Madeleine L'Engle; The Irrational Season: The Crosswicks Journal, book three

Ah, the old acknowledging my sin before I can realize the depth of what it is I have been given. This never grows old to me.

"By the grace of God we have not been left to ourselves in the matter of who is to do the initiating. Adam needed a helper. God fashioned one to the specifications of his need and brought her to him. It was Adams job to husband her, that is he was responsible - to care for, protect, provide for, and cherish her. Males, as the physical design alone would show, are made to be initiators. Females are made to be receptors, responders. It was not arbitrarily that God called Himself Israel's bridegroom and Israel His Bride, nor Christ the Head and the Church the Body and the Bride. he woos us, calls us, wins us, gives us his name, shares with us his destiny, takes responsibility for us,
loves us with a love stronger than death.
The spiritual paradigm defines the relationship of men and women specifically of husbands and wives, since that is the central human union. The symbols matter enormously. They matter enormously, because they represent the relative position of CHRIST and the CHURCH"
- Elisabeth Elliot; Passion and Purity

YES! Oh, this, THIS, is what is so beautiful about the church and marriage. The are not exclusive at all - completely inclusive and inexplicably bound together.

"The lines of my earth, so brittle, unfertile, and ready to die. I need a drink, but the well has gone dry. And we in the habit of saying the same things all over again, for the money we shall make. This is the last song that I write 'til you tell me otherwise. And it's because I just don't feel it. This is the last song 'til you tell me otherwise. And its because I just don't feel it anymore. It should be our time. This fertile youth's black soil is ready for rain. The harvest is nigh, but the well has gone dry. And they in the habit of saying the same things all over again about the money we shall make. This is the last song that I write 'til you tell me otherwise. And it's because I just don't feel it. This is the last song 'til you tell me otherwise, and it's because I just don't feel it anymore. "
-Sixpence None the Richer; Matt Slocum: The Lines of My Earth

The repetition of life gets me down, doing things for others while not realizing that is my purpose. My purpose to create for others. My purpose to work for others. I was created to serve.


"Hear my cry O God;
Give heed to my prayer.
From the end of the earth I call to
You when my heart is faint.
Lead me to the rock what is higher than I.
For you have been a refuge for me,
A tower of strength against the enemy.
Let me dwell in Your tent forever,
Let me take refuge in the shelter of Your wings."
- Psalm 61; David: verses 1-4

It just never gets old.

"April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire"
- T.S. Eliot; The Waste Land

Ah, a kindred spirit, one who understands the importance of lilacs - and yet understands more the purpose of death.

Sometime my life just don't make sense at all
When the mountains look so big
and my faith just seems so small

So hold me Jesus, cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
won't you be my Prince of Peace

and I wake up in the night and feel the dark
it's so hot inside my soul I swear
there must be blisters on my heart

surrender don't come natural to me
I'd rather fight You for something
I don't really want
then to take what you give that
I need
and I've beat my head against so
many walls
I'm falling down, I'm falling on
my knees

And the salvation army band is playing this hymn
and your grace rings out so deep it
makes my resistance seem so thin
- Rich Mullins; A liturgy, Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band: Hold me Jesus

The song that ought to be at least another five minutes longer, and the reason my stereo has a repeat feature. I will never grow tired of the line 'I'd rather fight you for something I don't really want, than to take what you give and I need.'

"Jesus' example [of love] also shows us that Love is under our control. He CHOSE to love us. He chose to lay down his life for us. The danger of believing that you "fall into love" is that is also means you can "fall out of love" just as unexpectantly. Aren't you glad that God's love for us isn't as unpredictable/ Aren't you thankful that God's love is under His control and not based on whim? We need to throw out the misconception that love is some strange force that tosses us around like leaves in the wind against our will. we cannot justify doing what we know is wrong by saying that "love" grabbed hold of us and make us behave irresponsibly. That's not love. We express true love in obedience to God and service or others - not reckless or selfish behavior - and we choose these behaviors."
-Joshua Harris; I Kissed Dating Goodbye

Oh. YES. This is the idea of love that I try so hard to
describe and yet fall so short in. Loving as a choice, which means if we truly are choosing to love - there is no backing out. Loving eternally.

"My Child, need I remind you? Need I remind you that you are my child and that I know the plans I have for you? You don't need a sign that I will do as I have promised you. I have promised and that is enough. Find your sufficiency not in weak signs, but in promises. Your faith will be proved. You will prove your faith. Your proof will be your faith."
- my prayer journal; February 19 2002

This word came to me in a time of intense journaling where I begged for a sign and received nothing in tangible form. It wasn't until I understood that it was faith God was asking of me and not just patience, that I could understand the fullness of these few lines.

I'm reposting this, so my post prayingmantis friends can know a little more about me, the rest of you can just ignore it =)

ten things you say daily?
good morning
thats a bummer
what should I make for supper?
does anyone have any money for gas?
how was your day?
someone get the phone
I left it right here, right here and it's gone
I'm cold
I love you
Where's Benji?

nine things you wear daily?
Contacts
Toe ring
Jeans
Shirt
Underwear
Sunglasses on my head [so thats where they were]
Shoes if I have to
Socks if I'm forced to
Sweater if it's chilly

eight movies you'd watch over and over?
Roman Holiday
A Time To Kill
Anne Of Green Gables
Princess Bride
You've Got Mail
Mr Smith Goes to Washington
Sound Of Music
My Fair Lady

seven albums that you'd listen to over and over?
Duncan Sheik
Radiohead [kid a]
They Might Be Giants [Flood]
Les Miserables
Caedmons Call [company of angels]
Rich Mullins [Litergy, legacy, ragamuffin band]
Cranberries

six items you touch every day?
shower floor
gas pedal
toothbrush
computer keyboard
Bible
bookbag

five things you do every day?
Wake up
Check email
Drive somewhere
eat
kiss brothers

four things that you couldn't live without?
air
food
water
lilacs

three of your favorite songs at this moment?
Thy Mercy
Sad Stephen
Amazing Love - the hymn

two people that have influenced your life the most?
undoubtedy my parents. Their infulence has not always been positive, though i assume that everything in life shapes who we are, so. . .

one thing you could spend the rest of your life with and not get tired of?
Troubling A Star

could build your house anywhere, where would it be?
somewhere, anywhere, where I could have ten acres and a garden with a small house and a front porch, where all four seasons were three months long intense and vibrant.

what's your favorite article of clothing?
mostly jeans, linen and cotton - cool clean and comfortable, my favorite being my blue linen skirt

what's your favorite feature of the opposite sex?
hands and eyes - though not just the oppostie sex, I notice them on anyone

what's the last cd that you bought?
Phantom Of the Opera original broadway soundtrack

where's your favorite place to be?
church, school, work

where's your least favorite place to be?
the city

what's your favorite tv show?
csi

what's the last movie you saw in theater?
Bourne Idenity, before that. . . saving private ryan - don't get out much =)

what's the last thing you said?
Aloud? "here's your books Benj"

who do you confide in?
confide? I don't really confide in anyone, not because I have nothing to confide, but more because I have nothing to hide. If you mean what/who sees a part of me that rare do, my journal, D, Bean, Jax I guess.

When is the last time you got your hair cut?
hmmm, in february I believe, it is in the process of growing out, long this time

If you could meet anyone who would it be?
Besides some obvious martyrs, whom I fully trust I'll meet someday, I'd like to meet more people. I'd like to expand my horizons when it comes to daily contact with people outside my immediate circle.

If you could go anywhere in the world?
Hands down, Europe - everywhere. Rome, London, Edinburgh, Bonn. All over, whether by train, bus, car, backpack, bicycle or on foot, i want to see it, taste it, picture it, paint it, smell it and than come home, to stay.

If you could be anything?
A mom and a wife - a servant to all those who surround me.

What is your favorite book?
Hard decision, but after narrowing it to catagories I think I can manage:
Historical Fiction - Aftershocks
Biblical Fiction - The Weeping Chamber
Modern Fiction - The Promise and The Chosen
Classic Fiction - The Phantom Tollbooth, anything Chesterton
Mystery Fiction - Dorothy Sayers anything
Youth Fiction - Madeleine L'engle and Irene Hunt anything
Childrens Fiction - I Love You The Purplest
Fantasy - The Chronicles of Narnia
Sci-fi - Enders Game
Biography - A Chance to Die
Autobiography - Sheldon Van Auken
Non-fiction general - Ten Acres Enough, The Good Life
Classic non-fiction - The Four Loves, The Screwtape Letters
Life I
ssus non-fiction - The Disciplines of Grace
Textbook - Perspectives
Fun Book to read - The Princess Bride

What cd is in your player right now?
Ummm, Margaret Tharcher, They Might be Giants and Oh Brother Where Art Thou sndtrk

What dvd/movie is in your player?
Lorna Doone

What cd is in your car stereo?
Hmmm, actually I think there is a sermon tape from last December in there - The Disciplines of a Servant, but the last cd that was playing in there was. . . No Doubt [early stuff dude]

What is your favorite color?
Pear green

What is your favorite food?
pasta anything mostly, peaches, green grapes, carrots, veggie wraps, chai

What is your favorite sound?
toss up between a good bass player putting it down and listening to people talk about things that somehow don't matter, but are strangely interesting the same

Why did you fill this out?
I haven't filled out one of these since I was 17 and figured that it wouldn't hurt to figure out some of these things anyway. .

Today in church pastor Mike spoke on Discipline in disappointments. On joseph and how his entire life was a 'good news vrs bad news' story. I think I will get the tape. It was certainly good thought provoking material. One thing he said that stuck with me was that JOseph never broke his compass, in that, he meant that he never lost sight of who he was and in what direction he was going. The original dream that got him into such a 'mess' to begin with, kept him going, having faith to believe that which GOd promsed him would come to pass. this idea fascinates me.

To know, to know that you know, that your life is headed in such a direction that god has planned and to have such faith in that that you never lost sight of it, is the only REALLY satisfying feeling I can imagine.

After church H and I went to go see the apartment she is going to begin renting in a few weeks. The good news is, she only has to pay 400 a month for this one bedroom apartment, and this includes everything but phone. The bad news is, someone else has already signed the lease. The good news is, the other person hasn't put downa deposit yet, so the apartment is still technically 'open'. The bad news is, H may have to move out in two months if this other girl puts down her deposit. The final good news is this - She gets to move to the upstairs apartment which has TWO HUGE bedrooms and for the same price as the downstairs. So overall, the moral of the story is, rent your apartment from your best friends older brother: He likes you.

No, but really.

THings are presently at a stand still with me moving in with Jax. Her younger brother just got out of jail and needs a place to live. She is really excited about the possibility of having him come live up here in the country and hopefully change his stripes, so he maybe be moving in with her. If this is the case, we should know soon, I will not be sharing the house with her. No hard feelings of course, it's just not my cup of tea at this point. At this point. Hopefully never. I feel the need to clarify though, as my problem is not that he is just getting out of jail, but instead that he is a normal 23 year old single guy and living with him in the same house is completely inappropriate.

Whenever I find myself immersed in the things that make me completest - family, school, work, missions, ministry, studying, friends - the things where I am most surrounded by godliness, contentment, and spurring one another on to love and good works, I find myself less hungry for the things of God in my life. Not full. But less hunger is evident. Yet, when I find myself falling in habits of slothfulness and discontentment it is than that I wake up and find that I am hungrier than I've ever been. This has been one of those days. One of those times. Times where I just fell so hard and feel so unworthy and yet there is suddenly a great joy in my heart. I know not where it comes from, nor where it goes when it's gone, but right now - it is present.

So I am currently thinking about this and my thoughts resemble the following.

When we fall, when we stumble, when we mess up, we, for some reason, feel the need to repent continually ad naseaum until we finally feel as if we have done our sin some sort of justice, by wiping the slate cleaner perhaps. Obviously this isn't what Jesus meant when he clarified that Our Father hears our prayers and answers them. The repetition is unnecessary, except for one thing. It serves us. It puts us into a constant, no matter the time, communion with God. And somehow through this, we find ourselves hungering after more of something that at that point we aren't quite sure of. After all, in our minds we've just spent the last two hours repenting in our hearts for a sin we hate - why should we be feeling such peace and joy? Because somewhere in that two hours of repenting we've spent more time in prayer than our so called 'prayer time' ever sees. Why? Because we have reached some level of desperation in our desire to see God work.

So when I consider the roller coaster effect that so many Christians go through and I wonder 'Is THIS what the Christian life is supposed to be?', I can easily answer my question by looking at my own life and my own roller coaster Christianity. When I find myself on the heights it is because somehow or another I have surrendered something very important to Christ, my thoughts, my mind, my patterns, my habits and so my own personal desires have become aligned with His personal desires - to see me become perfected. It's not so hard, and the best part is that I don't have to sin before I can experience this. The fact is this, I AM a sinner. I don't just sin sometimes. I am flesh and I am human and I am a sinner. So therefore, I don't need to wait until I've messed up bigtime before I can look back and have a sudden realization of my sinfulness. I just need to keep this at the forefront of my mind. My sinfulness is what keeps me needing a savior. Otherwise, I just find myself immersed in things that make me feel less like a sinner and more like a god on my own. A place where repenting hardly takes place because a god needs not repent. He is what he is and there is no changing that.

God, change my heart. Make me a humble person who seeks after YOUR heart and never forgets the depraved position of my own.

I've just been asked to housesit Danny's parents house while they all go to Maine in a few weeks. My feelings on this are mixed. They live in the middle of NOWHERE. But I like the thought of a house to myself for a week and a half. Might be nice. Yup. So, the odds are in which favor do we think? Votes are welcome.

I find myself overcome today with the depairity of my soul. Well not despair of course, because I am redeemed and forgiven, but the utter sin I count in my heart. Paul, David, Moses, all those patriarchs still found sin and somehow overcame it, even it was after the fact. They knew a relationsip with their Father that bestowed such grace on them that they could bring the heads back up and continue. I want to know this. I want to know it in such a way that it is undeniable and tangiable. I wish for my mouth not to say 'that which I hate, I do, and that which I know is right, I don't do,' but I wish for my mouth to confess that I cannot DO anything to somehow create a better spirit without the Holy Spirit motivating it.

There is the old analogy, meant to scare us into becoming undesensitized to the world and it's dealings, about the perverbial frog in the water. If you put a frog in boiling water he dies instantly, but put one in lukewarm water and THAN turn the burner on, and he dies a slow painful death - all the time unaware that every breath he takes couldb e his last and that the time to jump out is NOW. This touches a chord in me. I find myself shocked at something and than just a few moments later taking part in the very thing that I proudly swore I'd never do. Pride. The root of all sin.


And so, I once again assume the kneeling position I should have never left.

Tonight I am sitting here and looking at my brother. The one who shares the middle name and the same face of a brother he never knew, and I am remembering that first brother. How had I known when he was three of four that I would only know him until age 14, I would have treasured the momemts more. No, not just treasured. I would have captured. A treasure runs out, but something that is captured in your mind and heart never leaves.

I look at the other brothers and wonder if today will be our last day together and yet, sometimes, I overlook this and still point at their faults and belittle them with my mind and my callous hurtful words. Not appreciating the things about them that I will never remember about Drew. Never remember, not because they weren't memorable, but because I didn't care to notice the things that made him who he was. Not just my younger brother, but a person, an individual with dreams and hopes and desires and a personality not like anyone elses.

And I missed him. Missed him for the brother who shares so much with him, but will never know except by our words and memories. Missed him for the times I wish I had held back and refused the heated words that reared in an ugly moment. Repented for the times I didn't. Missed him.

had an interesting theory to write about tonight, but somewhere between a 7am cake baking and a 12am moment [Am I good, or am I good? I've just looked at the clock on my computer and there it says in little black numbers 12:00 AM], I've forgotten. So either it wasn't very interesting, or it wasn't a theory, or I wasn't to write about it tonight, or the possibilities are endless - so I'll stop while I'm ahead.

When I lived in Pennsylvania I thought hazy skies and a few visable stars at night was normal and to be expected. My first experience with seeing a pitch black sky dotted with so many millions of stars that you cannot even being the counting process was the summer I was fifteen [the summer of so many new experiences]. My first glimpse was in Texas one night when I stepped out of our camper and looked up and there, for the first time I could see both the big dipper and the little dipper. But the very exciting memorable time came a few days later, on the north rim of the Grand Canyon, driving endlessly in the night, trying to keep mom awake both with cans of coke and talks about nothing, noticing at once that there was no definition between the mountains ahead of us and the skyline - they met at an abyss. Simply blackness and nothing else in every direction you looked. I'll never forget the sleepy eyed wonder that went through my mind seeing this. I thought dark was when you turned the lights out, but that was only dim. Dark was nothingness. Without our headlights we would have been lost in a sea of murky pitch. And I loved it.

Now, whenever I come home late at night - if it is a clear night - I stop at the foot of our front porch stairs and look up. Depending on the weather, the seasons, the time, the mood, I can see thousands of stars and planets and the moon and if I look closely I can more. If it happens to be a chilly night and I look on the north side of our house - I might chance a glimpse of green or red or blue light patches swishing their way across the sky. They're called Northern Lights, but I like to call them night lights. And I have found that no matter how special it was to see a black sky for the first time, nothing is more exciting than to know I live with one at my doorstep. And so, I smile.

Because only God could take something so colorless, bleak, and black and make it so perfectly beautiful, it takes your breath away.

My heart is heavy and hurt. For a child who longs for something, that by default, can never be his. A relationship with one who pushes him away in favor of a better toy.

Idolatry.

I realize more and more the ever present stigma of this in my own life and push it away with a vengence - somehow, if only I can run in the furthest direction away from whatever holds my heart more than it should, it will somehow flee from me also, won't it? As long as my personal agenda is being met by this false form of happiness, I'll never know true joy, will I? It's only when I lay my motives aside and come seeking nothing that I find I have everything in the world.

The last chapter of Malachi.

And I will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children.
And the hearts of the children to the fathers.

Lord, I don't know what it is going to take for this to happen, you used a burning bush, a plague of frogs, a giant fish, the disappearance of the sun for a day, the death of your son and still it's not happening. How long will we stay in this disparaging position? As long as we refuse to be risen up and free of it? Why can't we see that if only it stops be a me issue and becomes a You issue that we will know restoration and reconciliation?

Why? Why? W h y? I only ask for healing, not perfection. Not completion. Not disappearance. Just healing. Is my prayer not big enough? Is my faith not firm enough? Have I not known you well enough? Or are you just waiting for the perfect time, the perfect chance to whisper your answer?

He doesn't deserve this. He is only a boy. A boy with a heart. A heart that longs to know you and love you and yet the only form of a father he sees knows and longs to see something other than himself. How can he know Your love unless he sees it modeled in someone who emulates you? God, I'm crying. I want to know. I want to understand. I want him to not just be happy and take in life accepting only what he sees on his plate, but I want him to suceed always with vision for more of what he can do because he knows that someone knows he can.

There is nothing, I am quite sure, that somehow disappoints more than a hope dashed.

I was terribly excited about tonight, as it would be the first time in three years that I've gone to see fireworks and somehow associated fireworks with all the fun that went along with it back home in Pennsylvania. Sitting in a crowd of people who grip their Corona's and whose vocabulary's seem to be limited to two words, you and fuck, was not what i had envisioned tonight to be. I guess I am prone to be a passive changer - something. I couldn't wait for the grand finale, and somehow when it came my thoughts weren't anywhere in the general vicinity of 'how beautiful', but I have got to get out of here. getting 'out of here' proved to be harder than a normal fireworks display, doubled in part as I had no clue where in the world I was. But I am home, and not too late you see.

But somehow disenchanted with what has always been my favorite holiday. Mostly because I'm selfish, but partly because the very thing we even celebrate this day has been mingled and squashed with so much paraphanalia that any shred of independance that remains is who finishes first in the race to get out of the parking lot.

Disillusioned, perhaps. Saddened, most definetely. Victorious? No, more than victorious, visionary.

I was driving to go get stuff for the fourth tomorrow and I passed this Amish farm with a amish girl outside hanging out laundry and I watched her wave to me, the car behind me, the car who was passing on the other side of the road and keep smiling the whole time. It wasn't just a fluke, or a good morning for her, they wave and smile at everyone that passes or that they pass [which doesn't happen very often, since they are in the buggies] . I was just immpressed with this continuous friendlyness. The fact that all of them, young and old in this area all are so welcoming and always willing to stretch out a hand of friendship. I was so convicted as I continued driving as I see the lack of this in my life eer present - I'm just not friendly to people in general. Sure, I smile and say thanks at the grocery store and tip well at Sergies, I try to address people in a mature and welcoming manner, but the fact is, is I'm not consistant. If i feel noncommital, that's all it takes for me to ignore the human race in general and the people who aren't close to me specifically. I'm just rude.

Every good thing has an end, but it also has a beginning. Fortunetly, or nonthing good would exist. Like, for instance,

bannana creme pie
strawberries
pears
brothers
poppies
-and lilacs
tan lines [these are good only cause they prove you didn't have to go tanning]
Rita's italian water ice
snowmen
peaches
crepes
a good book
a better author
you
me
and everthing in between
except water, cause there is never a place where it REALLy stops or starts.

Tonight my friend Matthew called and after taking his turn with each member of my family on the phone he got to me. Matt had been engaged to my best friend but they broke it off - a sad, unecessesary break - but a break nonetheless. So when he got to me on the phone tonight he said three significant things. One, he is coming up to visit for a week in September. Two, make sure I introduce him to some good Christian girls. Three, they must be, and not necessarily in this order, under 5.5 feet, brown hair, early 20's, blue eyes perferrably, moral and sincere, funny but not stupid, outgoing but not boisterous, submissive not subordinate, happy not giddy and last but not to be confused with least, a Christian with vision.

When I finished laughing, which took quite a while, as what he is describing is close, if not the, model wife material. And, which is funnier, a replica of my best friend, his former fiancee. I laugh because I find myself doing this in my own life. S was Matt's first and only love, at 16, and he hasn't loved anyone since. Owen was my first and only love also at 16 and every guy I've met since than has been compared in my mind, to him. Sad phenomenom, but true. And so it is with sadness that I must confess to Matthew that there are no girls matching that description he thinks he wants around here, not because I couldn't find one who would fit everything to a t, but what he wants doesn't exist for him any longer.

And I wish to cry. Cry for generations of young people, myself, Mattew, S, you, everyone of our peers and our parents peers who have somehow broken off such a chunk of their hearts for a false seditive of comfort - idealism and idolitry. We've built such a picture of what we will find to love and we've forgotten somewhere along they way the purpose OF love. It's not hard to love that which we ideally want to love, but when it comes to loving something which doesn't fit in our description box, we choose instead to pass it along until something better, or something closer, comes along. We break the peices of our hearts smaller by holding on to that which can never be and do it willingly, all in the name of 'first love'. Oh that we could somehow return to the 'first love' we had in our first taste of Jesus. I would trade any memories of Owen, just to once again remember the first moment with Jesus.

In any case, matthew is coming to visit and I am so thrilled!

This weather is absolutely humid. Everything your skin touches it sticks to and smarts when you lift it up. Blah.

I think that I am going to visit Pennsylvania in two weeks. This should be fun. I haven't been to the land of my home [and the brave of the free] for a year - I think. I believe I will begin in Lancaster and circle around and up through Philly and stay in Bucks County for a few days and than end it in the Poconos visiting Bean. Or perhaps the other way around. I don't know yet. we'll see.

Jon IMed me last night and told me they're getting their new boat today - we'll go boating sometime this week hopefully. Ah glee. There is almost nothing better than the water and boating on it is the only thing that is.

When it is humid like this my creative juices stop. I think that the heat blocks up my creative-juice-tubes or perhaps it is what is formally called a 'brain-fry'. Whatever the be, I can't think beyond I'm hot and it's hot. It is dropping down to 77 on thursday though, this will be nice.

TOmorrow night a few of us are going to see fireworks in Morristown. I have no idea where Morristown is, but I will be there, I guess. Tonight we're going kayaking on the river. Thank God for large a body of water bordering our land. When I was small and living in suburban america, a development where you could see your neighbors on both side and the grocery store was a half a mile down the road, I wished for three things: A place where I could hear a train whistle as it went past; A river; And a horse. I have all three and now I wish for about ten things. I figure if God blesses you with your wishes, you might as well dream big. Otherwise, you won't know how blessed you are when it comes.

I am posting this excerpt from an essay my friend Ryan is in the process of writing. It gives me goosebumps when I read it, the end esspecially - maybe you too.

"Any athlete, to be properly prepared for competition, must overcome plateaus
in training; this is both normal and expected. The only method of prevailing
in these difficulties however is not continued routine training. It is
essential that one attack these trials with greater intensity, fervor, and
creativity. For the runner, this results in perhaps hill-work and
speed-drills. For the Body Builder, perhaps supersets and isolation
training. And like these, the Christian too will necessarily meet resistance
to revelation. And after all the gains made through prayer, intellectual
honesty, and diligent study there still often is a plateau which must be
conquered, a wall of disbelief which prevents them from fully grasping that
which they seek. And for them, all that is left is courage and faith, and in
the end, the prayer, "Lord I believe; help my unbelief."

And yet to begin quest, we naturally start with prayer, for only there can
intellectual honesty be conferred. And it is most certainly grace, for "no
one seeks God," and we are all like blind men before the Holy Word. Indeed,
we best submit our very and entire lives before the results of our study,
knowing that only He can cause our eyes to be open, and if He so does, our
response must be to obey. Any other action is to be feared.

The Author of Hebrews understood this very thing as he urged us to "go on
unto perfection" and indeed acknowledged that it would be impossible with
out first, God: "And this will we do if God permit," he wrote. Yet even more
so, and it should be highly sobering, he understood the danger of seeking
God and not yielding to the truth revealed:

"For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted
the heavenly gift, and have become partakers of the Holy Spirit, and have
tasted the good word of God and the powers of the age to come, if they fall
away, to renew them again to repentance, since they crucify again for
themselves the Son of God, and put Him to an open shame."

Yes, it is in a humble spirit where God will manifest and guide as we "ask",
"seek", and "knock," but when He answers, when He is revealed, and when the
door is open, we must be ready to fully embrace that
which is
there-regardless of it's cost. For only in that moment do we stand in the
presence of a Holy God, and there the only acceptable worship is an act of
obedience; it is critical to not let that moment "fall away", or rather,
that we not "fall away" from that moment!"

THis is just the beginning, I cannot wait for the entire thing. I find that so often the best thing is not the most exciting thing to do and so therefore I hesitate, even refuse, to do what is best. Of course it's easier to watch a movie than read my Bible, but I want to be a in place of obedience in such a way that to be in constant communion with God. A place where reading my bible is no longer just necessary, but desirous in order to see my life a mirror of Christ.

I was watching Pink's music video, Want to Be Somebody Else at Kev's house the other day. I'm not really into her music, but there is a part in the video where she is looking into a mirror and her reflection is not reflecting her motions, but completely different ones. This made me think of us and Chist and what it looks like when we desire to see ourselves just like him. Every time we think we've somehow arrived and gotten to a place where we are sure that we must be at least both have the same color eyes, he points out the glaring fact that our hair is still a different color and, hmmm, thats kind of a big obstacle to being just alike. Yeah, more work to go. Keep trying.

I found a straw hat in my bedroom today. I put it on and decided that when I am forty and wear pink, since I wouldn't dream of pink today, I will also wear straw hats in my garden. There is something a bit English about wearing a straw hat while gardening - though I tend to think that just from watching too much BBC productions. Die hard.

Today is Danny's 19th birthday, tomorrow is Aaron's fifth, the next is mom's, hmmm, 45th? We will celebrate them all on the fourth and have an american flag cake decorated with strawberries and blueberries and homemade whipped topping. This has been a tradition for as long as I could bake on my own.


THought of the day? A few actually.

I went into town tonight to buy a kiddie pool for the little boys and took Benji with me. People go wild, I mean wild, every person who feels at will wants to touch his hands, his face, his legs and say the same thing that everyone else says 'he's so SMALL! How old is he? He's such a cutie.' All told, yes he is small, in fact he has only gained one pound in the past four months, he still wears 6-9 month clothing. Yes he is a year and a half. Yes he certainly is a cutie. Now get your hands off him!!!!

No, I dont say that. ha hah

I just think it.

I got an email today from Joe. He asked if I had any epiphanies recently. I had to look Epiphany up.

e·piph·a·ny Pronunciation Key (-pf-n)
n. pl. e·piph·a·nies
Epiphany
A Christian feast celebrating the manifestation of the divine nature of Jesus to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi.
January 6, on which this feast is traditionally observed.
A revelatory manifestation of a divine being.

A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something.
A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization: “I experienced an epiphany, a spiritual flash that would change the way I viewed myself” (Frank Maier).

I have to say, this is quite a word. I like it and I do believe I'll use it again.

No, Joe, sorry no epiphanies recently. But I did eat a really great strawberry a few minutes ago.