After several gruelling hours of flights, I should be totally exhausted and ready to collapse, and yes, I would be, except for the fact that my rodent is MIA. GAH!! Why did I have to get a hamster? Whhyyyy? She's way too smart for her own good and busted out of the cage sometime when I was away.
Even after landing, I'm still dealing with the turbulence of my own self. Arguing, reasoning, talking, utterly boring myself to death. At one point in the last flight, about an hour from landing, I chanced to look outside the window and behold something beautiful, something I've never seen before.... stars way up above, clearer than anything, but under that the clouds exploded with lightning. I could watch the night sky for miles erupting in these bright lights. And it just kept flashing...
But I don't want to talk about me anymore, I'm sick of me this, me that, I want, I wish. If I think anymore of myself I'm going to inwardly scream. Trouble is, I don't know what to talk about. There's something on the tip of my tongue which eludes me, and leaves me frustrated, because the fall back plan for that happening is to think about me, myself and I again.
Seriously, I'm kinda po'd at that hamster...
I would like to know why I keep having dreams about men trying to kill me for whatever reason. In the dreams, I'm usually standing up for something of moral consequence, though it's forgotten by the time I wake up, and though the first was outright, blatant, I'm going to shoot you, the second... hmm. Imagine a youth group gotten together, some are wayward and fall into the scheme, and all these tall, dark, somewhat-handsome men are in black leather and have weapons, and are threatening you for something you did, but they won't take any distinct offensive action because there are so many other people about the place. They never actually kill me before I awaken.
I can't do this anymore, I have to go to bed, sick of feeling melodramatic, just want a good night's rest on a non-lumpy bed. My own, sweet, squishy, quiet bed.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Cali, Day 4
When did today actually begin for me? Fell asleep reading my book last night about eleven, but at 120 I awoke to the neighbor starting up his truck, as I had forgotten to shut the window. Stirred from my slumber, I realized the light was on and my day clothes instead of my night clothes covering my body.
Sleepily I gathered myself into somewhat of a coherent mass and dragged my feet down the hall to brush my teeth and get ready for "bedtime". There's something homey about grandma's house, the way it smells of antiquity and musky perfumes. Something in the way the grandfather clock ticks in the living room, and the hall is adorned with pictures of three generations. In the way the door to the bathroom won't ever shut nicely because of the towel rack hanging on it, and the pastel rose wallpaper I've grown accustomed to.
But of course, once I had completed my routine, I was no longer tired. Sleep fled from me and turned to curiosity about what I'd left unknown in the tale of Jane Eyre in her position of governess, what there was still to know about Mr. Rochester, her master and friend. Picking up my copy, I assumed the fetal position under the covers, holding the pages close. Time was lost in the beauty of a story not my own, a new saga to ponder, and it was ten minutes before four in the morning when I finally thought I should be miserable the next day without any rest.
However, as soon as I reached up to turn off the light, by brain would not cease its whirring, but instead, took up spinning faster. "Oh, shut up," I whispered hoarsely to myself in the dark. Several minutes later, I concluded that I would never be able to sleep until I took my troubling thoughts to my Father in heaven. What succeeded was an outpouring of everything I'd been turning over, asking for wisdom in matters I knew little about. And a peace overcame my tense and aroused senses, before much later, I was unconscious.
At 8:04 (much too early for my liking, but I couldn't stay in bed any longer) I swung my feet over the side of my fold-out bed and brought myself to sluggishly meander out to the kitchen. This was the beginning of a very full day.
"Happy birthday, Les," mom greeted me by the cereal cabinet.
On purpose I had chosen to bring the nightshirt which stated, "I'm not bossy, I just know what you should be doing," but this morning I was at ease with all my siblings. Even my BROTHER - a shock, I know - came up to me and gave me a huge hug and sang happy birthday to me, ending with "I love you." As much as we've fought, disagreed, and generally had discord in opinions, I'll admit, that was sweet.
At eleven, it was proposed we all eat lunch at grandma's before setting off to the wild world of Los Angeles. There's something to be said for eating whatever leftovers you want to, wearing what you like, and having grandma say, "Oh, Susan, it's her birthday! Let her do what she wants." Yep, definitely a grandma.
In another hour or so, everyone had been piled into the van like a collection of party-goers, and I contented myself with staring out the window at nothing in particular. Palms, traffic, pedestrians all passed by my eyes, but my mind was elsewhere. My heart was removed from the noise, the sights and smells, and intent on what was probably occurring back home. However, such a solicitous advance toward melancholy wasn't to be tolerated.
We pulled off the exit ramp and came to what I had been anticipating for the past day: Hollywood Boulevard. I didn't know the Walk of Fame was so extensive! Crowds teemed on the sidwalks, the pedestrian crossings, everywhere. Imitators of popular movie characters paved the walkways and posed with the pressing floods of tourists. Michael Jackson. Christopher Reeves as Superman. KISS. Captain Jack Sparrow. Wonder Woman. They were all there. When a bride, groom, three bridesmaids and a groomsman exited a building to my left, it took me a moment to decide whether they were truly just married or part of the extravagant scenery.
I found several stars in the sidewalk bearing the names of actors and actresses I recognized and admired. One in particular though, right in front of the Mann's Chinese Theater, caused a commotion among our small group; the star of one Harry Langdon. No, he's not some famous comedian, nor a huge televangelist, no, he was a rather obscure actor. He acted in silent films, a long time ago, but what I didn't know before today, was that, well, I was related to him. My dad was ecstatic to discover it, and the rest of us caught onto his excitement.
To wrap things up, we left Hollywood Blvd. much too soon, but turned our direction to Griffith Observatory. Still daylight, there wasn't much in the way of stars to be seen (not that you'd be able to see much through the haze in downtown LA anyway...) but it left a somewhat impressionable image on my mind. The history of the place is really what intersted me, not the gift shop or the show we saw projected on the inside of the dome. Stepping outside onto the open balcony overlooking the city skyline, a breeze blew continually, slightly tinged with cold for moments at a time. I could've stood there for an hour, just drinking in the pleasant weather and silence I found, and even though people went their own way behind me, I wasn't disturbed from my quiet reverie.
And shortening things considerably yet again, we managed to get back in the car, go down the mountain, and back to La Puente for dinner at Acupolco(?). Now this was the most genuinely Mexican-tasting food I've had in America. Near the end of the meal, when the waitress handed dad the check, my mom leant over to ask her something in her ear. I tried to make out what had just happened, so I asked, "Mom, what did you ask her?" But she evaded my questions, making a pretense to have not heard me by remarking about something on the receipt. By this time I knew something was up, but it was too late. Here they came in long procession, the entirety of the waiting staff and their manager, so sing a happy birthday song to me... in Spanish. I felt I blushed a little at the attention, but it was a happy occasion. At least this year I wasn't made to stand on a chair in the middle of the restaurant again.
Sleepily I gathered myself into somewhat of a coherent mass and dragged my feet down the hall to brush my teeth and get ready for "bedtime". There's something homey about grandma's house, the way it smells of antiquity and musky perfumes. Something in the way the grandfather clock ticks in the living room, and the hall is adorned with pictures of three generations. In the way the door to the bathroom won't ever shut nicely because of the towel rack hanging on it, and the pastel rose wallpaper I've grown accustomed to.
But of course, once I had completed my routine, I was no longer tired. Sleep fled from me and turned to curiosity about what I'd left unknown in the tale of Jane Eyre in her position of governess, what there was still to know about Mr. Rochester, her master and friend. Picking up my copy, I assumed the fetal position under the covers, holding the pages close. Time was lost in the beauty of a story not my own, a new saga to ponder, and it was ten minutes before four in the morning when I finally thought I should be miserable the next day without any rest.
However, as soon as I reached up to turn off the light, by brain would not cease its whirring, but instead, took up spinning faster. "Oh, shut up," I whispered hoarsely to myself in the dark. Several minutes later, I concluded that I would never be able to sleep until I took my troubling thoughts to my Father in heaven. What succeeded was an outpouring of everything I'd been turning over, asking for wisdom in matters I knew little about. And a peace overcame my tense and aroused senses, before much later, I was unconscious.
At 8:04 (much too early for my liking, but I couldn't stay in bed any longer) I swung my feet over the side of my fold-out bed and brought myself to sluggishly meander out to the kitchen. This was the beginning of a very full day.
"Happy birthday, Les," mom greeted me by the cereal cabinet.
On purpose I had chosen to bring the nightshirt which stated, "I'm not bossy, I just know what you should be doing," but this morning I was at ease with all my siblings. Even my BROTHER - a shock, I know - came up to me and gave me a huge hug and sang happy birthday to me, ending with "I love you." As much as we've fought, disagreed, and generally had discord in opinions, I'll admit, that was sweet.
At eleven, it was proposed we all eat lunch at grandma's before setting off to the wild world of Los Angeles. There's something to be said for eating whatever leftovers you want to, wearing what you like, and having grandma say, "Oh, Susan, it's her birthday! Let her do what she wants." Yep, definitely a grandma.
In another hour or so, everyone had been piled into the van like a collection of party-goers, and I contented myself with staring out the window at nothing in particular. Palms, traffic, pedestrians all passed by my eyes, but my mind was elsewhere. My heart was removed from the noise, the sights and smells, and intent on what was probably occurring back home. However, such a solicitous advance toward melancholy wasn't to be tolerated.
We pulled off the exit ramp and came to what I had been anticipating for the past day: Hollywood Boulevard. I didn't know the Walk of Fame was so extensive! Crowds teemed on the sidwalks, the pedestrian crossings, everywhere. Imitators of popular movie characters paved the walkways and posed with the pressing floods of tourists. Michael Jackson. Christopher Reeves as Superman. KISS. Captain Jack Sparrow. Wonder Woman. They were all there. When a bride, groom, three bridesmaids and a groomsman exited a building to my left, it took me a moment to decide whether they were truly just married or part of the extravagant scenery.
I found several stars in the sidewalk bearing the names of actors and actresses I recognized and admired. One in particular though, right in front of the Mann's Chinese Theater, caused a commotion among our small group; the star of one Harry Langdon. No, he's not some famous comedian, nor a huge televangelist, no, he was a rather obscure actor. He acted in silent films, a long time ago, but what I didn't know before today, was that, well, I was related to him. My dad was ecstatic to discover it, and the rest of us caught onto his excitement.
To wrap things up, we left Hollywood Blvd. much too soon, but turned our direction to Griffith Observatory. Still daylight, there wasn't much in the way of stars to be seen (not that you'd be able to see much through the haze in downtown LA anyway...) but it left a somewhat impressionable image on my mind. The history of the place is really what intersted me, not the gift shop or the show we saw projected on the inside of the dome. Stepping outside onto the open balcony overlooking the city skyline, a breeze blew continually, slightly tinged with cold for moments at a time. I could've stood there for an hour, just drinking in the pleasant weather and silence I found, and even though people went their own way behind me, I wasn't disturbed from my quiet reverie.
And shortening things considerably yet again, we managed to get back in the car, go down the mountain, and back to La Puente for dinner at Acupolco(?). Now this was the most genuinely Mexican-tasting food I've had in America. Near the end of the meal, when the waitress handed dad the check, my mom leant over to ask her something in her ear. I tried to make out what had just happened, so I asked, "Mom, what did you ask her?" But she evaded my questions, making a pretense to have not heard me by remarking about something on the receipt. By this time I knew something was up, but it was too late. Here they came in long procession, the entirety of the waiting staff and their manager, so sing a happy birthday song to me... in Spanish. I felt I blushed a little at the attention, but it was a happy occasion. At least this year I wasn't made to stand on a chair in the middle of the restaurant again.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Cali, Day 2 (continued)
After my morning episode (which I suppose it must be, since it was rather out of character for me), I was content to relax without interference from siblings or much other noise. Grandma stuffed me with a turkey sandwich, pears, carrots and apricots and chocolate cake until I couldn't possibly fit another morsel. But that's what grandmothers are for, right? She's also lenient when it comes to doling out cookies...
When I left the computer this morning, I was under the impression that I would be the next to shower... uh, well, no my brother snatched it before I could. Which only left me to stew in my room, staring at the wall plaques with my late grandfather's medals, airforce picture, and a sketch of him riding on top of a B17 plane holding the reins to its forefront. In time I simmered and realized how dumb I was to get worked up over such a situation. I just really hate when people try and guilt trip me. This want to please others, conflicting with my own tastes, works me up into such a mess.
But the remainder of this afternoon and evening I spent in perfect leisure, doing German homework, watching the news, and poring over ancient volumes belonging to my great and great-great grandmothers and beyond.
Two pieces of authors' works struck me as impressive, the first being a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Castle by the Sea, and this is how I found it on page 23 in the 1883 edition...
"Hast thou seen that lordly castle,
That Castle by the Sea?
Golden and red above it
The clouds float gorgeously.
"And fain it would stoop downward
To the mirrored wave below;
And fain it would soar upward
In the evening's crimson glow."
"Well have I seen that castle,
That Castle by the Sea,
And the moon above it standing,
And the mist rise solemnly."
"The winds and the waves of ocean,
Had they a merry chime?
Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers,
The harp and the minstrel's rhyme?"
"The winds and the waves of ocean,
They rested quietly,
But I heard on the gale a sound of wail,
And tears came to mine eye."
"And sawest thou on the turrets
The King and his royal bride?
And the wave of their crimson mantles?
And the golden crown of pride?
"Led they not forth, in rapture,
A beauteous maiden there?
Resplendent as the morning sun,
Beaming with golden hair?"
"Well saw I the ancient parents,
Without the crown of pride;
They were moving slow, in weeds of woe,
No maiden was by their side!"
The title of the poem caught my eye, which made me want to read it, to hear what it was about. Why the interest? Perhaps because my first name, Lesley, means "dweller of the grey fortress", and my middle name, Meredith, "by the sea". I used to draw pictures of my name, the fortress, or rather a castle as it normally turned out, atop a sheer drop off of rocky cliffs like I'd seen in pictures of Ireland, and below were the incessantly pounding waves. Yes, yes, I know I'm a romantic, I like to dream. It's one way of making the day more bearable when you just don't really want to take out the trash or pay attention to squabbling children. Just dreaming... this is why for so long I put away novels, one of the reasons at least, because I got so caught up in them. Another world, another face... I started thinking like them, books influence my everyday life, so I have to keep the topic off sordid matter... should anyway, but you know...
Dad wants his bed, so I've got to leave, but if you're ever up for something... a little strange, something to ponder a bit, something that I found intriguing, look up "The Rose-Elf" by Hans Christian Anderson. Trust me, it's not something I expected.
When I left the computer this morning, I was under the impression that I would be the next to shower... uh, well, no my brother snatched it before I could. Which only left me to stew in my room, staring at the wall plaques with my late grandfather's medals, airforce picture, and a sketch of him riding on top of a B17 plane holding the reins to its forefront. In time I simmered and realized how dumb I was to get worked up over such a situation. I just really hate when people try and guilt trip me. This want to please others, conflicting with my own tastes, works me up into such a mess.
But the remainder of this afternoon and evening I spent in perfect leisure, doing German homework, watching the news, and poring over ancient volumes belonging to my great and great-great grandmothers and beyond.
Two pieces of authors' works struck me as impressive, the first being a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Castle by the Sea, and this is how I found it on page 23 in the 1883 edition...
"Hast thou seen that lordly castle,
That Castle by the Sea?
Golden and red above it
The clouds float gorgeously.
"And fain it would stoop downward
To the mirrored wave below;
And fain it would soar upward
In the evening's crimson glow."
"Well have I seen that castle,
That Castle by the Sea,
And the moon above it standing,
And the mist rise solemnly."
"The winds and the waves of ocean,
Had they a merry chime?
Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers,
The harp and the minstrel's rhyme?"
"The winds and the waves of ocean,
They rested quietly,
But I heard on the gale a sound of wail,
And tears came to mine eye."
"And sawest thou on the turrets
The King and his royal bride?
And the wave of their crimson mantles?
And the golden crown of pride?
"Led they not forth, in rapture,
A beauteous maiden there?
Resplendent as the morning sun,
Beaming with golden hair?"
"Well saw I the ancient parents,
Without the crown of pride;
They were moving slow, in weeds of woe,
No maiden was by their side!"
The title of the poem caught my eye, which made me want to read it, to hear what it was about. Why the interest? Perhaps because my first name, Lesley, means "dweller of the grey fortress", and my middle name, Meredith, "by the sea". I used to draw pictures of my name, the fortress, or rather a castle as it normally turned out, atop a sheer drop off of rocky cliffs like I'd seen in pictures of Ireland, and below were the incessantly pounding waves. Yes, yes, I know I'm a romantic, I like to dream. It's one way of making the day more bearable when you just don't really want to take out the trash or pay attention to squabbling children. Just dreaming... this is why for so long I put away novels, one of the reasons at least, because I got so caught up in them. Another world, another face... I started thinking like them, books influence my everyday life, so I have to keep the topic off sordid matter... should anyway, but you know...
Dad wants his bed, so I've got to leave, but if you're ever up for something... a little strange, something to ponder a bit, something that I found intriguing, look up "The Rose-Elf" by Hans Christian Anderson. Trust me, it's not something I expected.
Cali, Day 2
So this is the start of my first full day on the other side of the country, and so far, it's not been all that great. I wake up on a lumpy mattress, which I didn't realize was lumpy last night because I was so exhausted, with the muscles all tightened in my neck and left shoulder. With extreme effort, I reached over next to me and grabbed my copy of Jane Eyre, since I could hear someone was already in the shower. For an hour I delved into a world not my own.
Breakfast was rather a disappointment, as I come to find that no one had saved me one of grandma's muffins, even though there had been plenty to go around. My fault I guess, I mean, I could've come out of my room sooner. Then the middle kids are arguing over how to play Black Jack. The youngest sits on the couch with her coloring book moaning about a cough she has contracted. Walking to the other end of the house where mom is getting ready for the day, I'm told the plan is to go to one of the tar pits which has a dinosaur museum.... wow. I honestly can't think of something else that sounds less appealing than reading about dinosaurs and looking at fossils dating "millions of years before anything."
But besides all the dumb little things this morning, I have to tell myself that it's a new day, one that the Lord has made, and I should find joy in it, even though right now I don't feel like it. And I mean, I really don't feel like it. But what is it I would rather do? Besides curl up with Jane Eyre again, most likely I'd end up just whining to myself and being a general nuisance to those around me who would feel the burden of my complaints. Which, the more I think about it, doesn't sound like much fun at all.
Before yesterday, I don't know if I've ever had such a pleasant plane trip before. Okay, so there was that kid from Nashville to Phoenix who kept headbutting the back of my chair, but aside from that, my dad was my only traveling companion, and he understands my want for quiet book time. Also, he usually has an answer for all the scriptural/God-related questions I have a tendency to ask. Once landing in Phoenix, the ramp from the plane to the terminal was filled with hot, 99 degree air. The air conditioning blowers helped a bit to relieve the intensity, but strangely, I didn't mind much at all.
(Have to continue later, I'm going to freshen my body and mood with a shower.)
Breakfast was rather a disappointment, as I come to find that no one had saved me one of grandma's muffins, even though there had been plenty to go around. My fault I guess, I mean, I could've come out of my room sooner. Then the middle kids are arguing over how to play Black Jack. The youngest sits on the couch with her coloring book moaning about a cough she has contracted. Walking to the other end of the house where mom is getting ready for the day, I'm told the plan is to go to one of the tar pits which has a dinosaur museum.... wow. I honestly can't think of something else that sounds less appealing than reading about dinosaurs and looking at fossils dating "millions of years before anything."
But besides all the dumb little things this morning, I have to tell myself that it's a new day, one that the Lord has made, and I should find joy in it, even though right now I don't feel like it. And I mean, I really don't feel like it. But what is it I would rather do? Besides curl up with Jane Eyre again, most likely I'd end up just whining to myself and being a general nuisance to those around me who would feel the burden of my complaints. Which, the more I think about it, doesn't sound like much fun at all.
Before yesterday, I don't know if I've ever had such a pleasant plane trip before. Okay, so there was that kid from Nashville to Phoenix who kept headbutting the back of my chair, but aside from that, my dad was my only traveling companion, and he understands my want for quiet book time. Also, he usually has an answer for all the scriptural/God-related questions I have a tendency to ask. Once landing in Phoenix, the ramp from the plane to the terminal was filled with hot, 99 degree air. The air conditioning blowers helped a bit to relieve the intensity, but strangely, I didn't mind much at all.
(Have to continue later, I'm going to freshen my body and mood with a shower.)
Monday, July 21, 2008
Heart in the ER
In just one week, perspectives can shift. In one week, I learned more about cooperation, the need to not always be right, laying down prejudices, loving those who fall, and when to keep my mouth shut even though something may be on the tip of my tongue. Man it was a crazy week.
Not only did my friend stay at my house from Monday to Sunday, but several other incidents occurred which shook me out of my self absorbed state. I didn't even realize I was in one, which scares me. It's not about me, what I wear, what I want to listen to... no, it's about the other person, the other people involved in the situation. What I wear: other girl friends may wear bikinis and okay, that's just what they want, and I don't really care. But as for me, I don't want to present any type of distraction for the men around me. It's hard... I came back from work the other week, changed out of my food-smelling clothes and went to the closet to find something clean. That shirt's too short. Too much of a v-neck. What if I bend over in that one? Too tight. What was I thinking when I bought that? I wasn't. I either didn't consider the opposite sex, or I did... and that's why I purchased it.
Consideration: Respecting those around you and not focusing on yourself (clothing, speech, sarcasm, music, etc.)
Beginning this week, I unconsciously held myself aloft from those around me. He/she lost her virginity, how stupid! He/she smoked weed, they have no standards. How could he/she do _________ ?! And so on. There was a sense of pride buried in me so deep I'd forgotten it. These people who didn't measure up to my standards were automatically disliked, I held them in contempt. How could I?
God is so incredible. He planted a story in my mind, the adulteress. I picked out everything wrong with the Pharisees, how they were wicked and hypocritical and essentially, damned. Uncovering a few new facts, I marveled at them, turned them over in my head... not until Sunday when I heard that same exact story did the dust begin to be blown away. I was a Pharisee. Yes, people fall, but the way I looked down at them and considered myself of a "better cloth" was utterly ridiculous and disgusting. Whatever I've thought in my heart is considered a sin just as much as the actual doing... whenever impure images come flitting across my mind's eye, I have to strain against them, to cry out and have them banished. But what about the times I don't try running from them? When I have allowed myself to entertain vile thoughts with a twinge of guilt, but I don't give them up right away. Oh Lord God, I am so wicked, so pharisaical. Friends may lose their purity, but who am I to judge them? I have a log in my own eye, I cannot touch them. Humble me Lord Jesus, because I don't even know all the evil crevices in which sin lurks and encourages my pride, my self righteousness. May I drop my stone and walk away. You are the only one who has the right to cast it, and you haven't. Let me learn, God.
I know he heard me. For instead of this haughty response, when I was told a friend of mine had slept with another, I didn't get angry. Shock numbed me until the reality sunk in and I burst into tears. Virginity is a gift, one I intend to safeguard until marriage, but for those who no longer possess it, I weep. No indignance, no flippant "oh well", but a sincere hurt for the sacred thing that is lost. May the Lord preserve this response, and give me a love for those I may feel have let me down.
Realization: that nothing good is in me, I am completely dependent on God's mercy to spare me. Pride has burrowed deep and needs eradication.
I can recall a few times when I had something sarcastic to say, or something that would have been defensive instead of peaceable during my friend's stay. It would've been so perfect, that sentence would've made sense and brought my point home. But it also would've made a tear between us. There is no call to react in a way that would incite a negative response, trigger a disagreement. I did not need to be right. I did not need to fight to the death in that battle. It's hard for me to see someone else think they've won when I don't agree. And then they know they've won and you have to employ all your willpower and ask for the grace of God to just move on, to love this person even though you can't agree with their sentiments, when you are just as angered about their pride in winning as you should be about your own hurt pride when you lose.
Recognition: Seeing pride and seizing it when it raises its head, capturing it and understanding the motives behind your desire to retaliate. You've been offended. Your pride has been insulted. Pride wants to win the game, but when it flares at "I told you to put on sunscreen," just give it up.
Not only did my friend stay at my house from Monday to Sunday, but several other incidents occurred which shook me out of my self absorbed state. I didn't even realize I was in one, which scares me. It's not about me, what I wear, what I want to listen to... no, it's about the other person, the other people involved in the situation. What I wear: other girl friends may wear bikinis and okay, that's just what they want, and I don't really care. But as for me, I don't want to present any type of distraction for the men around me. It's hard... I came back from work the other week, changed out of my food-smelling clothes and went to the closet to find something clean. That shirt's too short. Too much of a v-neck. What if I bend over in that one? Too tight. What was I thinking when I bought that? I wasn't. I either didn't consider the opposite sex, or I did... and that's why I purchased it.
Consideration: Respecting those around you and not focusing on yourself (clothing, speech, sarcasm, music, etc.)
Beginning this week, I unconsciously held myself aloft from those around me. He/she lost her virginity, how stupid! He/she smoked weed, they have no standards. How could he/she do _________ ?! And so on. There was a sense of pride buried in me so deep I'd forgotten it. These people who didn't measure up to my standards were automatically disliked, I held them in contempt. How could I?
God is so incredible. He planted a story in my mind, the adulteress. I picked out everything wrong with the Pharisees, how they were wicked and hypocritical and essentially, damned. Uncovering a few new facts, I marveled at them, turned them over in my head... not until Sunday when I heard that same exact story did the dust begin to be blown away. I was a Pharisee. Yes, people fall, but the way I looked down at them and considered myself of a "better cloth" was utterly ridiculous and disgusting. Whatever I've thought in my heart is considered a sin just as much as the actual doing... whenever impure images come flitting across my mind's eye, I have to strain against them, to cry out and have them banished. But what about the times I don't try running from them? When I have allowed myself to entertain vile thoughts with a twinge of guilt, but I don't give them up right away. Oh Lord God, I am so wicked, so pharisaical. Friends may lose their purity, but who am I to judge them? I have a log in my own eye, I cannot touch them. Humble me Lord Jesus, because I don't even know all the evil crevices in which sin lurks and encourages my pride, my self righteousness. May I drop my stone and walk away. You are the only one who has the right to cast it, and you haven't. Let me learn, God.
I know he heard me. For instead of this haughty response, when I was told a friend of mine had slept with another, I didn't get angry. Shock numbed me until the reality sunk in and I burst into tears. Virginity is a gift, one I intend to safeguard until marriage, but for those who no longer possess it, I weep. No indignance, no flippant "oh well", but a sincere hurt for the sacred thing that is lost. May the Lord preserve this response, and give me a love for those I may feel have let me down.
Realization: that nothing good is in me, I am completely dependent on God's mercy to spare me. Pride has burrowed deep and needs eradication.
I can recall a few times when I had something sarcastic to say, or something that would have been defensive instead of peaceable during my friend's stay. It would've been so perfect, that sentence would've made sense and brought my point home. But it also would've made a tear between us. There is no call to react in a way that would incite a negative response, trigger a disagreement. I did not need to be right. I did not need to fight to the death in that battle. It's hard for me to see someone else think they've won when I don't agree. And then they know they've won and you have to employ all your willpower and ask for the grace of God to just move on, to love this person even though you can't agree with their sentiments, when you are just as angered about their pride in winning as you should be about your own hurt pride when you lose.
Recognition: Seeing pride and seizing it when it raises its head, capturing it and understanding the motives behind your desire to retaliate. You've been offended. Your pride has been insulted. Pride wants to win the game, but when it flares at "I told you to put on sunscreen," just give it up.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
A Journal Entry (not very edifying)
Taking a break for a minute from the crazy, long winded writings I've been doing, I'm not really sure what I want to say. Just something lighthearted, something new.
In the violets blue
Lies the deepest hue
A purity so true
And morning's dew.
Of the roses red
Not much to be said;
Petals adorn their bed
And the hair on my head
I wish for so much...
Perhaps one of the greater heartaches for me has been to watch first one, then two, then the third of my friends develop relationships and I wind up on the backburner. Though perhaps that's to teach me something, maybe that I needed to realize I shouldn't act selfishly, or think in such a way that would be unbecoming. It's better now, I'm still alive and well, even better than well. The Lord has given me friends to love, He has gifted me with a wonderful family, as much as I may dislike their quarreling sometimes, I have my own bedroom, a job where I get to see children everyday... and you know, you get almost as emotional as the parents at graduation. Little Kaylee's going to kindergarten. And Hannah, Max, Audrey, and Kellan.
Some things I still am a bit ashamed of, feeling almost as if I'm too girly. On the way back from Mexico we stopped in at McD's for dinner, and (I don't even remember what I was referring to) I can recall saying something to the effect of, "I just would feel too girly." Why is that a bad thing? Girlish-ness was something I should've embraced, but it felt like I was not tough enough if I admitted to Pride & Prejudice being my all-time favorite chick flick.
Ever since kindergarten I can remember wanting to be on level with the boys. The church playground was this fenced in area, pretty sizeable, containing a swingset, one of those round things you pulled to get momentum going, then hopped on with your friends and tried not to fall off, and a few other attractions. I was wearing my Easter dress, one of my favorites, and these boys stood off to the side snickering. I can distinctly remember becoming indignant at something they said, and when they turned to face me, they taunted me saying I couldn't run as fast as boys could. "Oh yeah?" I retaliated and the next thing I know, we're lined up - two of the boys and I - and one kid yells, "READY?...... SET!...... GOOOOO!!!" And we were off. Pink ribbons flying, I ran steady around the fenced border and made it back to the starting line a split second before the others. That was a good feeling. Except I do remember it being kinda muddy, so I wonder what my mother's reaction must've been to my appearance... maybe it's a good thing I don't remember that.
Growing up for several years in the middle of nowhere, your only companions for the most part are your siblings. My brother and I did some crazy stuff. We caught frogs, raced bikes, played our own version of mini golf, made mud pies, climbed dirt mounds, and even the red dirt wall in the gun range. That was a nasty experience. To my horror, I discovered that not all rocks stuck in a wall of dirt will hold the weight of a ten year old. That was skin-up number one. Number two was also with my brother. To the left of our house was a short little road, but the part we cared about was the hill on which we would be able to pick up speed for sledding, biking, etc. So one day, Logan's riding the heavy duty tricycle and I want a turn. "Get on back!" he told me. As I could see this was the only way I'd be able to experience the thril of going downhill, I planted both my feet on the back and hunkered down. "Don't swerve, Logan!" "Wee, wee!" "Logaaaann!" "Wee, weeoopsss!" He hit a rock. We must've been going about 15 mph or so, maybe faster I don't know, when we hit a loose rock in the road and the trike skidded out from under us. He was fine. He landed on top of me. I was the one with the gash in the knee about an inch wide through which I could see something white. Blood was down to my ankle in less than a minute. Mom got me bandaged up in some gauze once I reached the house and dad popped in Star Trek Nemesis to cheer me up. (I know...)
All that to say I just though boys were cooler. They were tougher, stronger, and usually had more fun ideas than sitting inside baking bread with their moms. I never wanted to admit to liking getting my nails painted or wearing hair ribbons, and over time, I grew to dislike the aforementioned girly things. In many ways, I have learned to love the fact that I am indeed female, but I also had to understand that you can still be a girl and not like painting your nails pink, and not be in love with the Jonas Brothers (because the culture would like for me to think there's something wrong with my lack of interest in them), and it's okay that I don't have blonde hair like 98% of America's girl population. I still have two X chromosomes. God gave me different likes and looks from most of the girls I know, and it's only lately that I've been able to accept that I'm not going to be like anyone else. Being a girl doesn't mean that we come with the label of "meek" or "gentle" even though there are a few of us who are. Somehow, I don't think I'm quite that way either...
Elizabeth Bennet of Pride & Prejudice displays similar interests and embodies certain convictions about society which I too sympathize with. I love her wit, even though I also know what it's like when you get carried away and can be sharp tongued. It's the author though, Jane Austen, or rather her character in Becoming Jane, whom I feel I mirror though. A little afraid to speak her mind in front of authorities she respects, but daring enough to want to elope with the man who steals her heart, but then, realizing that if she carries through with her plan his family in Ireland will starve for lack of his pension, she relinquishes her desires for the benefits of others. At least, I'd hope I had the conviction to do what is best for others instead of being selfish.
I've spoken enough of myself now, tomorrow is a new day, and with it, a new sunrise (which in this case is referencing my early rising for work).
In the violets blue
Lies the deepest hue
A purity so true
And morning's dew.
Of the roses red
Not much to be said;
Petals adorn their bed
And the hair on my head
I wish for so much...
Perhaps one of the greater heartaches for me has been to watch first one, then two, then the third of my friends develop relationships and I wind up on the backburner. Though perhaps that's to teach me something, maybe that I needed to realize I shouldn't act selfishly, or think in such a way that would be unbecoming. It's better now, I'm still alive and well, even better than well. The Lord has given me friends to love, He has gifted me with a wonderful family, as much as I may dislike their quarreling sometimes, I have my own bedroom, a job where I get to see children everyday... and you know, you get almost as emotional as the parents at graduation. Little Kaylee's going to kindergarten. And Hannah, Max, Audrey, and Kellan.
Some things I still am a bit ashamed of, feeling almost as if I'm too girly. On the way back from Mexico we stopped in at McD's for dinner, and (I don't even remember what I was referring to) I can recall saying something to the effect of, "I just would feel too girly." Why is that a bad thing? Girlish-ness was something I should've embraced, but it felt like I was not tough enough if I admitted to Pride & Prejudice being my all-time favorite chick flick.
Ever since kindergarten I can remember wanting to be on level with the boys. The church playground was this fenced in area, pretty sizeable, containing a swingset, one of those round things you pulled to get momentum going, then hopped on with your friends and tried not to fall off, and a few other attractions. I was wearing my Easter dress, one of my favorites, and these boys stood off to the side snickering. I can distinctly remember becoming indignant at something they said, and when they turned to face me, they taunted me saying I couldn't run as fast as boys could. "Oh yeah?" I retaliated and the next thing I know, we're lined up - two of the boys and I - and one kid yells, "READY?...... SET!...... GOOOOO!!!" And we were off. Pink ribbons flying, I ran steady around the fenced border and made it back to the starting line a split second before the others. That was a good feeling. Except I do remember it being kinda muddy, so I wonder what my mother's reaction must've been to my appearance... maybe it's a good thing I don't remember that.
Growing up for several years in the middle of nowhere, your only companions for the most part are your siblings. My brother and I did some crazy stuff. We caught frogs, raced bikes, played our own version of mini golf, made mud pies, climbed dirt mounds, and even the red dirt wall in the gun range. That was a nasty experience. To my horror, I discovered that not all rocks stuck in a wall of dirt will hold the weight of a ten year old. That was skin-up number one. Number two was also with my brother. To the left of our house was a short little road, but the part we cared about was the hill on which we would be able to pick up speed for sledding, biking, etc. So one day, Logan's riding the heavy duty tricycle and I want a turn. "Get on back!" he told me. As I could see this was the only way I'd be able to experience the thril of going downhill, I planted both my feet on the back and hunkered down. "Don't swerve, Logan!" "Wee, wee!" "Logaaaann!" "Wee, weeoopsss!" He hit a rock. We must've been going about 15 mph or so, maybe faster I don't know, when we hit a loose rock in the road and the trike skidded out from under us. He was fine. He landed on top of me. I was the one with the gash in the knee about an inch wide through which I could see something white. Blood was down to my ankle in less than a minute. Mom got me bandaged up in some gauze once I reached the house and dad popped in Star Trek Nemesis to cheer me up. (I know...)
All that to say I just though boys were cooler. They were tougher, stronger, and usually had more fun ideas than sitting inside baking bread with their moms. I never wanted to admit to liking getting my nails painted or wearing hair ribbons, and over time, I grew to dislike the aforementioned girly things. In many ways, I have learned to love the fact that I am indeed female, but I also had to understand that you can still be a girl and not like painting your nails pink, and not be in love with the Jonas Brothers (because the culture would like for me to think there's something wrong with my lack of interest in them), and it's okay that I don't have blonde hair like 98% of America's girl population. I still have two X chromosomes. God gave me different likes and looks from most of the girls I know, and it's only lately that I've been able to accept that I'm not going to be like anyone else. Being a girl doesn't mean that we come with the label of "meek" or "gentle" even though there are a few of us who are. Somehow, I don't think I'm quite that way either...
Elizabeth Bennet of Pride & Prejudice displays similar interests and embodies certain convictions about society which I too sympathize with. I love her wit, even though I also know what it's like when you get carried away and can be sharp tongued. It's the author though, Jane Austen, or rather her character in Becoming Jane, whom I feel I mirror though. A little afraid to speak her mind in front of authorities she respects, but daring enough to want to elope with the man who steals her heart, but then, realizing that if she carries through with her plan his family in Ireland will starve for lack of his pension, she relinquishes her desires for the benefits of others. At least, I'd hope I had the conviction to do what is best for others instead of being selfish.
I've spoken enough of myself now, tomorrow is a new day, and with it, a new sunrise (which in this case is referencing my early rising for work).
Neither do I condemn you
I can always tell when I've actually tuned into Christ, because it's then when I'm listening that He speaks... and my notes fill up the given bulletin space and begin taking over the edges and squeezing between paragraphs. It's a jumbled mess, but there are a few themes I can discern from the scribbles.
1. Freedom and adoption, from slavery to sonship
2. Knowing Christ and who He is
3. Denying yourself, saying no to the flesh and yes to Jesus instead
4. How Jesus condemned the people calling them a "wicked and adulterous generation" and accusing them of not knowing the Father, because if they knew the Father, they'd know that Jesus was the Son and accept Him as such.
5. Forgiving our brothers for whatever they may do/say against us, and the parable of the unmerciful servant. The one servant had a huge debt, but his master forgave him. Then servant one turned to servant two and said, "you owe me, pay up". When the master heard of this, his anger was stirred because he forgave servant one for his debt, but servant one wouldn't forgive servant two for a much smaller debt.
6. We want to USE Jesus, and the gospel is "theraputic" in our minds, but Jesus is far more than a means to our own end, our happiness.
Something else I've toyed with in my mind this week is the story of the woman who was caught in the act of adultery, and how the Pharisees brought her to Jesus to see how he would deal with her.
"'Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?' This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, 'Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.' And once more he bent down and wrote in the ground. But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus stood up and said to her, 'Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?' She said, 'No one, Lord.' And Jesus said, 'Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.'" John 8:1-11
This little explanation from the ESV study Bible may be of interest - to test him. If Jesus told them to carry out the stoning, He would violate the Roman law by which the Romans reserved to themselves the exeution of the death penalty in occupied lands. If Jesus told them to release the woman, He would appear to condone adultery and violate the law of Moses. (ESV, page 1525, footnote on v. 8:6)
So in no way was He in favor of her having sexual relations with a man who wasn't her husband, but He also was not going to become ensnared in the Pharisees' deceitful practices. For if, as the Pharisees said, she was "caught in the act", the man who was committing adultery with her must've been present as well. But did they bring him before Jesus with the woman? Nope. They tested Jesus, bringing up the Law of Moses to see if he'd disregard it, when in fact they were setting themselves in a horrid state of hypocrisy. Leviticus 20:10 - the esteemed "Law of Moses" - says, "If a man commits adultery with the wife of his neighbor, both the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death." Hmmm...
I'm gonna snatch this quote from Wayne Blank (http://www.keyway.ca/htm2001/20010620.htm)
"Hypocrisy is derived from the Greek word hypokrisis, which meant playing a part on the stage, or putting on a mask to misrepresent reality. In the ancient Greek theater, actors were known as hypocrites, without any negative connotation. In the real world however, being a hypocrite, pretending to be something while actually being something else, was and is definitely viewed as wrong. In matters of religion, it's downright evil.
"Jesus Christ did not mince words when it came to religious hypocrisy. That, more than anything else, is what got Him killed. His death was a staged assassination by a few religious hypocrites who The Lord was very effectively exposing to the people under their authority."
All this is what I have discovered after I was reminded of the story, but at the first moment it came into my head, what struck me was this: God was the only one there without sin. He was the only one who could've thrown a stone at her, and he didn't, but extended forgiveness and an admonition to her. He could've! He had every right to, she had committed a grievous error. But because of his love, his boundless mercy he forgave her of her past, and encouraged her to go on and never do it again. In the time afterwards, she would have to remind herself of this. She would have to deny her fleshly desires and temptations and instead, she would have to call to mind Jesus and his words regarding her.
Jesus had every reason to say no to me. I'm messed up, sin has blotted me like a leaky quill, but he said yes, yes he wants me, yes he loves me, yes, he has forgiven me. "For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out... Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:18 & 24-25
1. Freedom and adoption, from slavery to sonship
2. Knowing Christ and who He is
3. Denying yourself, saying no to the flesh and yes to Jesus instead
4. How Jesus condemned the people calling them a "wicked and adulterous generation" and accusing them of not knowing the Father, because if they knew the Father, they'd know that Jesus was the Son and accept Him as such.
5. Forgiving our brothers for whatever they may do/say against us, and the parable of the unmerciful servant. The one servant had a huge debt, but his master forgave him. Then servant one turned to servant two and said, "you owe me, pay up". When the master heard of this, his anger was stirred because he forgave servant one for his debt, but servant one wouldn't forgive servant two for a much smaller debt.
6. We want to USE Jesus, and the gospel is "theraputic" in our minds, but Jesus is far more than a means to our own end, our happiness.
Something else I've toyed with in my mind this week is the story of the woman who was caught in the act of adultery, and how the Pharisees brought her to Jesus to see how he would deal with her.
"'Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?' This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, 'Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.' And once more he bent down and wrote in the ground. But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus stood up and said to her, 'Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?' She said, 'No one, Lord.' And Jesus said, 'Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.'" John 8:1-11
This little explanation from the ESV study Bible may be of interest - to test him. If Jesus told them to carry out the stoning, He would violate the Roman law by which the Romans reserved to themselves the exeution of the death penalty in occupied lands. If Jesus told them to release the woman, He would appear to condone adultery and violate the law of Moses. (ESV, page 1525, footnote on v. 8:6)
So in no way was He in favor of her having sexual relations with a man who wasn't her husband, but He also was not going to become ensnared in the Pharisees' deceitful practices. For if, as the Pharisees said, she was "caught in the act", the man who was committing adultery with her must've been present as well. But did they bring him before Jesus with the woman? Nope. They tested Jesus, bringing up the Law of Moses to see if he'd disregard it, when in fact they were setting themselves in a horrid state of hypocrisy. Leviticus 20:10 - the esteemed "Law of Moses" - says, "If a man commits adultery with the wife of his neighbor, both the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death." Hmmm...
I'm gonna snatch this quote from Wayne Blank (http://www.keyway.ca/htm2001/20010620.htm)
"Hypocrisy is derived from the Greek word hypokrisis, which meant playing a part on the stage, or putting on a mask to misrepresent reality. In the ancient Greek theater, actors were known as hypocrites, without any negative connotation. In the real world however, being a hypocrite, pretending to be something while actually being something else, was and is definitely viewed as wrong. In matters of religion, it's downright evil.
"Jesus Christ did not mince words when it came to religious hypocrisy. That, more than anything else, is what got Him killed. His death was a staged assassination by a few religious hypocrites who The Lord was very effectively exposing to the people under their authority."
All this is what I have discovered after I was reminded of the story, but at the first moment it came into my head, what struck me was this: God was the only one there without sin. He was the only one who could've thrown a stone at her, and he didn't, but extended forgiveness and an admonition to her. He could've! He had every right to, she had committed a grievous error. But because of his love, his boundless mercy he forgave her of her past, and encouraged her to go on and never do it again. In the time afterwards, she would have to remind herself of this. She would have to deny her fleshly desires and temptations and instead, she would have to call to mind Jesus and his words regarding her.
Jesus had every reason to say no to me. I'm messed up, sin has blotted me like a leaky quill, but he said yes, yes he wants me, yes he loves me, yes, he has forgiven me. "For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out... Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:18 & 24-25
How well do you know Me?
The electricity in the air during a thunderstorm; lightning in the clouds, raindrops on your face, and the wind flirts with your hair.
Walking with sand between your bare toes, the sun just gone down beneath the ocean, leaving golden orange rays of glory in its wake, and the breath of the ocean serenading the senses.
Dashing across "no man's land" in the dark to capture the other team's flag. They're coming after you, and adrenaline courses through your blood as you fly back into your territory with the prize.
This all resounds so clearly with me, as if it's a part of who I am, because I've been there. I know what this feels like, and if you've never walked out to watch a thunderstorm, or never been to a Florida beach, or haven't played capture the flag, you won't fully understand it.
As much as I may try to explain Christ as I see Him, as I know Him, no one will understand my love for Him until they meet Him.
Hah, wow. So I just flipped to my concordance to find some other reference about boasting, and ended up at this...
"... but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord." Jeremiah 9:24
He would delight that I know Him. I think that's cool.
Wow, I think this qualifies as my first short blog ever!
Walking with sand between your bare toes, the sun just gone down beneath the ocean, leaving golden orange rays of glory in its wake, and the breath of the ocean serenading the senses.
Dashing across "no man's land" in the dark to capture the other team's flag. They're coming after you, and adrenaline courses through your blood as you fly back into your territory with the prize.
This all resounds so clearly with me, as if it's a part of who I am, because I've been there. I know what this feels like, and if you've never walked out to watch a thunderstorm, or never been to a Florida beach, or haven't played capture the flag, you won't fully understand it.
As much as I may try to explain Christ as I see Him, as I know Him, no one will understand my love for Him until they meet Him.
Hah, wow. So I just flipped to my concordance to find some other reference about boasting, and ended up at this...
"... but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord." Jeremiah 9:24
He would delight that I know Him. I think that's cool.
Wow, I think this qualifies as my first short blog ever!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Just another Wednesday
You know those days when you do things you're not supposed to, and you know you're not supposed to, but you do them anyway? It's been one of those. I feel like whining, and I shouldn't. I've eaten more desserts than I should've. It's hard for me to curb my tongue when I have something to say, because normally it's off topic and people get mad at me. There's a connection somewhere in my head, but the others don't see it. Ugh. That's all I feel like is that one word, "ugh."
Of course everyone sees me eating chocolate and watching movies and they're like, oh, that time of the month huh? But no, it isn't and that's what bothers me. Have I become so worked up about little dumb things that I can't even just take life as it comes? A month ago even, I felt so... good. Yeah, I was always worried about something or other, but my head was clear, I felt direction, I was definitely more patient and less irritable. Now... I want it back.
People have a huge draw on me. They can usually change my mood, they control my thoughts when I'm not around them, I talk to people all the time. I hardly ever leave my room now, it's my safe haven, but when I do I'll go downstairs to mom at her computer and sit... or talk. It means so much to me to just talk, just to have a companion to bounce things off of or discuss the latest people happenings. However, when the topic turns to paint chips and furniture, boredom immediately takes residence.
The drive home tonight wasn't nearly long enough. Rain threw itself from the heavens onto the windshield in smattering drops as the wipers worked tirelessly to get rid of them. The light changed from green to yellow then proceeded to red. "What are you doing?" the question whispered through the corridors of my mind. "I'm sitting at a red light, duh." Red changed to green and I pushed the accelerator. "Yeah, well what about those other feelings you've had for days, hmm? Not feeling 'good enough' not 'pretty enough' that you're 'too much' something?" I sighed. "I know, I'm not supposed to feel that way, I'm a 'daughter of the King' but you know what, I still feel this way, and it's not going away anytime soon."
So this is what it's come to. A positive outlook, more or less a sense of direction... and what has it become? A wallowing, pitiful, whiny girl who wants to frump in her bedroom, away from the world. People dictate my life. Why do I let them? I dunno. Sometimes I wish men didn't exist.
Here I sit with my legs crossed, and try to figure a way to redeem this... I want a story to share, an inspirational verse maybe, I just want God to reach down, grab a hold of me and say, "I've missed you." ... in fact, I think He just did. What began as hot tears in my eyes have left their threshhold and fallen in neat little lines down my cheeks.
Lord, I've missed you too, so much, and I love you. You're here with me, everywhere I go, but how many times do I not see you, not acknowledge your very presence right here with me? Forgive me Lord God, for I've failed. I have thrown your words to the wind, have forgotten my first love, and I want to come back. Please take me, take what I hold back, for you know all I haven't given. Jesus, thank you for loving a girl like me, who screws everything up and forgets you more often than she should.
Be thou my vision, of Lord of my heart, and naught be all else to me, save that thou art.
The reality of Christ, is so ... awesome. He fills my limbs with warmth and my heart feels as if it's overflowing. He is my God, He is my love, why should I ask for more? Whatever He has stored up for me will come at the time He has appointed. He thought of me, of my needs, my sorrow, my desires from before that first day when he formed the earth from nothing. He said, "I will love her because she is mine."
"O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in - behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me; Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." -Psalm 139
Though I do not know who wrote that in the forward of my journal, it has been a comfort, a conviction, and a source of food for thought. He knows me. And still, He wants to be near me, and me near Him. If that isn't the most mind-boggling thing, I don't know what is.
Of course everyone sees me eating chocolate and watching movies and they're like, oh, that time of the month huh? But no, it isn't and that's what bothers me. Have I become so worked up about little dumb things that I can't even just take life as it comes? A month ago even, I felt so... good. Yeah, I was always worried about something or other, but my head was clear, I felt direction, I was definitely more patient and less irritable. Now... I want it back.
People have a huge draw on me. They can usually change my mood, they control my thoughts when I'm not around them, I talk to people all the time. I hardly ever leave my room now, it's my safe haven, but when I do I'll go downstairs to mom at her computer and sit... or talk. It means so much to me to just talk, just to have a companion to bounce things off of or discuss the latest people happenings. However, when the topic turns to paint chips and furniture, boredom immediately takes residence.
The drive home tonight wasn't nearly long enough. Rain threw itself from the heavens onto the windshield in smattering drops as the wipers worked tirelessly to get rid of them. The light changed from green to yellow then proceeded to red. "What are you doing?" the question whispered through the corridors of my mind. "I'm sitting at a red light, duh." Red changed to green and I pushed the accelerator. "Yeah, well what about those other feelings you've had for days, hmm? Not feeling 'good enough' not 'pretty enough' that you're 'too much' something?" I sighed. "I know, I'm not supposed to feel that way, I'm a 'daughter of the King' but you know what, I still feel this way, and it's not going away anytime soon."
So this is what it's come to. A positive outlook, more or less a sense of direction... and what has it become? A wallowing, pitiful, whiny girl who wants to frump in her bedroom, away from the world. People dictate my life. Why do I let them? I dunno. Sometimes I wish men didn't exist.
Here I sit with my legs crossed, and try to figure a way to redeem this... I want a story to share, an inspirational verse maybe, I just want God to reach down, grab a hold of me and say, "I've missed you." ... in fact, I think He just did. What began as hot tears in my eyes have left their threshhold and fallen in neat little lines down my cheeks.
Lord, I've missed you too, so much, and I love you. You're here with me, everywhere I go, but how many times do I not see you, not acknowledge your very presence right here with me? Forgive me Lord God, for I've failed. I have thrown your words to the wind, have forgotten my first love, and I want to come back. Please take me, take what I hold back, for you know all I haven't given. Jesus, thank you for loving a girl like me, who screws everything up and forgets you more often than she should.
Be thou my vision, of Lord of my heart, and naught be all else to me, save that thou art.
The reality of Christ, is so ... awesome. He fills my limbs with warmth and my heart feels as if it's overflowing. He is my God, He is my love, why should I ask for more? Whatever He has stored up for me will come at the time He has appointed. He thought of me, of my needs, my sorrow, my desires from before that first day when he formed the earth from nothing. He said, "I will love her because she is mine."
"O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in - behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me; Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." -Psalm 139
Though I do not know who wrote that in the forward of my journal, it has been a comfort, a conviction, and a source of food for thought. He knows me. And still, He wants to be near me, and me near Him. If that isn't the most mind-boggling thing, I don't know what is.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The effect of a dream
"Ooh, what's this?" The sight of a pile of cookies caught my eye when I entered the kitchen. One snickerdoodle. Two snickerdoodles. Every bite exploded with a wonderful sensation... like your favorite day of the year. Or when your best friend came to spend the night. Or hearing one of your favorite songs play on the radio. Or getting what you wished for on your birthday... of course, that last one could never be true for me, because every birthday I did wish for something, it wasn't for a pony or a pretty dress... I wanted to get married. Makes me smile now...
Very few times have I had dreams which I carry with me throughout the day. Then again, only one time before has a dream ever come to a conclusion before I awoke. But this one had a different flavor, a bigger, sweeter bite of the snickerdoodle. No, I didn't get married (those dreams always scared me, I could never see the groom's face, and when I did, I played runaway bride). I can't remember exactly what all the intricacies were, but the gist of it contained these few children to whom I had grown extremely close, mainly this one boy, Collin. For some reason, we had to be taken from our current location and transported to a safer shore. The aircraft - I'll call it that because I don't think it was a plane - took us all across this great expanse of ocean, but just before we reached mainland, an engine failed. Then again, an explosion sounded and we began falling.
We weren't very high, maybe a hundred feet, but one by one we fell out of the aircraft, down to the shallower waters. From where I hit the ground (and I don't remember how) I could feel the water pulsating against me as I lay sprawled on the beach. When I came to my senses, I realized that I was the only one on the beach. All the children were in water which was just over their heads. Distinctly I can recall three little boys I lifted from the waves, and other civillians came from the beach to pick out the rest. They stood there, as if rooted like little mushrooms just below the surface.
But I couldn't find Collin. A sickening sense overwhelmed me, almost as if I had lost my own child. For all I know, maybe he was. About 20 feet away, a group of four or five beach goers had formed a circle in knee deep water and stared down into the water between them. Frantically I fought the incoming surf to get to them, instinctively guessing that another child must be the cause of attention. Squeezing through the circle, my eyes followed theirs and there was Collin, holding his knees and sitting just under the breaking waters, but he wasn't crying, it was almost as if he was waiting; waiting for me to come to him. When he saw me, everything else was forgotten as he jumped up to clasp his arms around my neck and receive the embrace I was more than willing to give. It was second nature to me, to hold on and not let go. There were no tears, of joy, of relief, or anything of that nature, only a feeling that everything had been righted and nothing could be nearer to perfection.
He wanted me... he was waiting for me to come to him... he loved me so much he wouldn't accept help from anyone else. This child and I were somehow inseparable, nothing else mattered to us except that we had the other. That feeling of loving acceptance was so powerful, so beautiful, that I carried it with me from the time I awoke (an hour before planned, albeit) till now, as I prepare for bed. For once, I'm not sure how to tie that into something about an aspect of Christ which is clearly seen already.
The book Captivating, Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul by John and Stasi Eldredge has me... captivated. A whole new view, a new outlook, a new bond. Someone who actually understands and can touch on aspects of me which I didn't know what to do with. Why did I always dress up, want to wear grandma's costume jewelry? Because women just have a desire to be beautiful, and though some of us look for it in magazines and airbrushed photos of anorexic and silicone filled models, or that new diet or whatever, we forget that there is so much beauty within which God has blessed us with. He created women for a purpose, we are beautiful because we have an aspect of God which the guys don't. We are very in touch with our relational side, we like to know people, to befriend people, to be understood and accepted for just who we are.. to feel beautiful. God is so into having a relationship with us, men and women, that he puts that little chip into our lady heads to display his affections. He appreciates beauty, he loves to converse with us, to be a part of our entire lives, even what is most intimate to us. Women carry this... which is such an amazing gift.
There's also a part in the book about how women want to be romanced. Oof. I don't know if I've ever read something so pinpointedly accurate about myself.
"To be the beauty, abducted by the bad guys, fought for and rescued by a hero - some version of this had a place in all our dreams. Like Sleeping Beauty, like Cinderella, like Maid Marian, or like Cora in The Last of the Mohicans, I wanted to be the heroine and have my hero come for me. Why am I embarrassed to tell you this? I simply loved feeling wanted and fought for. This desire is set deep in the heart of every little girl - and every woman. Yet most of us are ashamed of it. We downplay it. We pretend that it is less than it is." (Stasi, Captivating, page 9)
Yeah, I get that. I feel dumb for wanting such a thing, as if it doesn't exist, 'cause now it's 21st century and those dreams are for little girls who still believe in the tooth fairy.
What did I used to dream of as a girl and into my teen years?
"He'll come on a horse and take me with him..."
"What if I was having to be forced to marry someone else? Then he would come and defeat the evil groom in a duel to the death."
"He will make me fall in love with him, even though I wouldn't like him at first, but then we'd be best friends and face dangers together."
I may not think so much this way as I once did... but it's still the backdrop to my hopes. Even in today's lyrics, this expectation of more than we see is desired, hoped for, and we don't want to settle for anything less...
"I wanna love
I want a fire
To feel the burn
My desires
I wanna man by my side
Not a boy who runs and hides
Are you gonna fight for me?
Die for me?
Live and breathe for me?
Do you care for me?
'Cause if you don't then just leave"
-Kelly Clarkson, Walk Away
I'm a romantic, I love to be loved, to have attention and to lavish it on others in return. I'm just cursed with the awful feeling of impeding on other people and am thus too scared to approach them. I've never been good at initiating, especially if the person is of interest to me.... ha ha. Usually I end up being the observer, and a guy never knows that I like him because I don't have the nerve to talk to him outside of a "hello". But I know God understands my quirks, I don't have to be shy with Him, He knows me in and out, He calls me beautiful, He gives me flowers to brighten my path... He loves me. Sincerely, truly, undoubtedly, fiercely.
Very few times have I had dreams which I carry with me throughout the day. Then again, only one time before has a dream ever come to a conclusion before I awoke. But this one had a different flavor, a bigger, sweeter bite of the snickerdoodle. No, I didn't get married (those dreams always scared me, I could never see the groom's face, and when I did, I played runaway bride). I can't remember exactly what all the intricacies were, but the gist of it contained these few children to whom I had grown extremely close, mainly this one boy, Collin. For some reason, we had to be taken from our current location and transported to a safer shore. The aircraft - I'll call it that because I don't think it was a plane - took us all across this great expanse of ocean, but just before we reached mainland, an engine failed. Then again, an explosion sounded and we began falling.
We weren't very high, maybe a hundred feet, but one by one we fell out of the aircraft, down to the shallower waters. From where I hit the ground (and I don't remember how) I could feel the water pulsating against me as I lay sprawled on the beach. When I came to my senses, I realized that I was the only one on the beach. All the children were in water which was just over their heads. Distinctly I can recall three little boys I lifted from the waves, and other civillians came from the beach to pick out the rest. They stood there, as if rooted like little mushrooms just below the surface.
But I couldn't find Collin. A sickening sense overwhelmed me, almost as if I had lost my own child. For all I know, maybe he was. About 20 feet away, a group of four or five beach goers had formed a circle in knee deep water and stared down into the water between them. Frantically I fought the incoming surf to get to them, instinctively guessing that another child must be the cause of attention. Squeezing through the circle, my eyes followed theirs and there was Collin, holding his knees and sitting just under the breaking waters, but he wasn't crying, it was almost as if he was waiting; waiting for me to come to him. When he saw me, everything else was forgotten as he jumped up to clasp his arms around my neck and receive the embrace I was more than willing to give. It was second nature to me, to hold on and not let go. There were no tears, of joy, of relief, or anything of that nature, only a feeling that everything had been righted and nothing could be nearer to perfection.
He wanted me... he was waiting for me to come to him... he loved me so much he wouldn't accept help from anyone else. This child and I were somehow inseparable, nothing else mattered to us except that we had the other. That feeling of loving acceptance was so powerful, so beautiful, that I carried it with me from the time I awoke (an hour before planned, albeit) till now, as I prepare for bed. For once, I'm not sure how to tie that into something about an aspect of Christ which is clearly seen already.
The book Captivating, Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul by John and Stasi Eldredge has me... captivated. A whole new view, a new outlook, a new bond. Someone who actually understands and can touch on aspects of me which I didn't know what to do with. Why did I always dress up, want to wear grandma's costume jewelry? Because women just have a desire to be beautiful, and though some of us look for it in magazines and airbrushed photos of anorexic and silicone filled models, or that new diet or whatever, we forget that there is so much beauty within which God has blessed us with. He created women for a purpose, we are beautiful because we have an aspect of God which the guys don't. We are very in touch with our relational side, we like to know people, to befriend people, to be understood and accepted for just who we are.. to feel beautiful. God is so into having a relationship with us, men and women, that he puts that little chip into our lady heads to display his affections. He appreciates beauty, he loves to converse with us, to be a part of our entire lives, even what is most intimate to us. Women carry this... which is such an amazing gift.
There's also a part in the book about how women want to be romanced. Oof. I don't know if I've ever read something so pinpointedly accurate about myself.
"To be the beauty, abducted by the bad guys, fought for and rescued by a hero - some version of this had a place in all our dreams. Like Sleeping Beauty, like Cinderella, like Maid Marian, or like Cora in The Last of the Mohicans, I wanted to be the heroine and have my hero come for me. Why am I embarrassed to tell you this? I simply loved feeling wanted and fought for. This desire is set deep in the heart of every little girl - and every woman. Yet most of us are ashamed of it. We downplay it. We pretend that it is less than it is." (Stasi, Captivating, page 9)
Yeah, I get that. I feel dumb for wanting such a thing, as if it doesn't exist, 'cause now it's 21st century and those dreams are for little girls who still believe in the tooth fairy.
What did I used to dream of as a girl and into my teen years?
"He'll come on a horse and take me with him..."
"What if I was having to be forced to marry someone else? Then he would come and defeat the evil groom in a duel to the death."
"He will make me fall in love with him, even though I wouldn't like him at first, but then we'd be best friends and face dangers together."
I may not think so much this way as I once did... but it's still the backdrop to my hopes. Even in today's lyrics, this expectation of more than we see is desired, hoped for, and we don't want to settle for anything less...
"I wanna love
I want a fire
To feel the burn
My desires
I wanna man by my side
Not a boy who runs and hides
Are you gonna fight for me?
Die for me?
Live and breathe for me?
Do you care for me?
'Cause if you don't then just leave"
-Kelly Clarkson, Walk Away
I'm a romantic, I love to be loved, to have attention and to lavish it on others in return. I'm just cursed with the awful feeling of impeding on other people and am thus too scared to approach them. I've never been good at initiating, especially if the person is of interest to me.... ha ha. Usually I end up being the observer, and a guy never knows that I like him because I don't have the nerve to talk to him outside of a "hello". But I know God understands my quirks, I don't have to be shy with Him, He knows me in and out, He calls me beautiful, He gives me flowers to brighten my path... He loves me. Sincerely, truly, undoubtedly, fiercely.
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