The Whole World Becomes Richer...

(From Aug. 23)
Today Rodgy wasn’t feeling well, so I read him the last few chapters of The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster, which I brought in my luggage. He’s been reading it and really liked it. I hadn’t read it until I read some parts with him, and I love it! It’s written quite eloquently, and has a lot of clever word humor and fun though thought provoking ideas. The point of the book is that there is a purpose in knowledge and learning, even if you don’t understand why you have to learn certain things.

“ You may not see it now,” said the Princess of Pure Reason, looking knowingly at Milo’s puzzled face, “But whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way. Why, when a housefly flaps his wings, a breeze goes around the world; when a speck of dust falls to the ground, the entire planet weighs a little more; and when you stamp your foot, the earth moves slightly off its course. Whenever you laugh, gladness spreads like the ripples in a pond…for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer.”

Pg. 233, The Phantom Tollbooth

No Formula for That

"Love has taken away my practices
and filled me with poetry.

I tried to keep quietly repeating,
No strength but yours,
but I couldn't.

I had to clap and sing.
I used to be respectable and chaste and stable,
but who can stand in this strong wind
and remember those things?"

-Rumi, from "Buoyancy"

That's how it is. It seems like it should be grand enough to have the promise of God's strength, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength," but there's something so much bigger than just getting by. It's called Love.

After all, what's the greatest commandment?

"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.'"

Mark 12:29-30

So I'm running around, half mad, thumbing open Rumi and Hafiz every little while to be baffled and delighted once again. And I have lots of questions. Like, did these guys believe Jesus was the Son of God, or did they think he was just a nice prophet? How could anybody possibly write about God's love like that and not believe? What exactly were the Sufis like? What can I learn from them? Can I trust what these heretic Muslims are saying? They weren't good Muslims. They weren't good Christians. But neither am I.

The morning after I read Rumi till 3 a.m. I woke and jumped out of bed, scandalized, and quickly started singing safe, contemporary Christian choruses, just to reel myself back in. I felt that I had sneaked into heresy's bedroom, not intending to be bad, but just to see if it really was heresy in there or not. What scared me is that I hadn't found a satisfactory answer to that question, and I fully intended to return every night until I did.

It's so scary to step out on a limb and even read a book that might be part truth but not all-the-way-truth. Careful worldview training has taught me to reject any vestiges of "tolerance," which I have always wholeheartedly done. I'm the queen of throwing the baby out with the bath water. Maybe I share my throne with Lauren :P

But the time has come to step out and risk it. The box I've let my "religion" become has nearly succeeded in suffocating me while my back was turned! It's so nice to know that God won't let me be snatched out of His hand. His love is the biggest thing in the world (think about sending your only Beloved to die on a cross and see if it's not), so I'm not fall off somewhere.

Rooted and grounded in the absolute of Jesus Christ and His loving boundaries, I am free to run, to explore, to love, to dream, to read crazy poetry and smile and say "that's how it is," and "that's how it isn't" if need be.

Here in America, we're so young, so green at being human, really. We have no ancient ruins. Not much history. We have a beautiful, godly heritage and an amazing story of freedom and Gods' hand. But we are young. There is not much mystery here, not much hidden under our sod. Generally speaking, we're more concerned with practical things rather than spiritual things. We have a lot to share with struggling nations in the East. But the East has a lot to give to us.

In India, for example, people are completely wrapped up in their spiritual nature. This usually looks bad and creepy, (worshipping cobras, setting up altars to stones, becoming one with the rainbow), but the truth is, God made them like that. They are seeking Him, ultimately, whether they discover Him or not in all their mess. So, while we are busy trying to fit life into a box, they are constantly peering into the box and taking life out, piece by piece exploring it. We want to make sense; they want something bigger than sense.

This is such a relief to me. I don't have to try to fit life into a box for the rest of my days, 9 to 5, fall semester, spring semester, summer. I just wasn't made to do that! I can live with the curious mind of a child, always discovering more of God at every turn and reveling in it! Every day there will be something new. What you see is not what you get. His love is higher than the mountains and deeper than the ocean. So, no formula for figuring that!!!

I will never know who the Lord is while I am on this earth. I know Him and love Him now in part, but it won't be till "The Divine Wedding Day" that I cease staring into that dingy mirror of Paul's and finally get to see the real thing. Yahoo!

In Which We Examine the Nature of "Goodbyes"

It's raining pleasantly outside while I give a little thought to the Nature of Things. After a conversation with Deb about their nearing departure for Ukraine (next week), I was pondering the nature of goodbyes and how everyone seems to have their own way of dealing with them. Deb said that she didn't even want to say the word, and couldn't let herself think about leaving at all, but simply has to focus on the moment she's in.

I think that's a gift, because I don't seem to be able to control my mind that way. "Goodbyes" often loom over me like a mountain you approach from a distance, clouding my view of the present. I can't hide from it, but I really don't want to, either. I want to grip that dreaded word, shove it out of the closet, and lay everything out on the table. When it's my turn to go to Ukraine, you can guarantee I'll be goodbying for weeks before hand, driving you all crazy with sentimental speeches about possibly never seeing you again.

If I don't say goodbye, I feel like I'm denying the truth. Of course we say we'll meet again, but what if we don't? It's all fine and well to say "au revoir" and all that, sure, but I've got to face up to the fact that one chapter is closing and another chapter is opening. Closure. It would be like writing a book that moves straight through without breaking up into chapters and parts. And chances are, they wouldn't give it an ending, either. It would just leave you hanging there. And that's bad writing.

I'm not really sure if this has to do with liking to write, or if it's just my personality. But, for the sake of writing, I've delveloped a contemplative, observatory nature that insists on processing every detail of my life. Often in a journal, sometimes orally in a long-suffering ear. I've become an emotional glutton who wants to feel every emotion (even sadness) to its uttermost. It may be kind of a bother, but it is rather helpful when writing poetry about human nature.

So, even though Deb doesn't want to discuss it, they are leaving soon. On Sunday, after Bruce preached and Pastor Bo talked about them a little and there were those last songs on the piano, I really felt bereaved a little that they were leaving. I would be heartbroken, I think, except that I am pretty positive I'm going to see them in about three months. But I'll miss them during that time too.

All this is really just a bunch of psychogoobldegop. Bruce's message on Sunday really encouraged me in having an eternal perspective. The Crowes may be leaving Longview, and yes, there are people they will never see again. I will leave too, and even though I only plan to be gone a year or so, I don't know where further adventures will take me. My friends are growing up and leaving, just like I am.

Change gives me the creeps, but I wouldn't be happy without it. In the end, after all the psychoanalizing, I'm glad to know that it really doesn't matter at all. This life is just a freakish delay at the airport while we wait for our Flight Home. Like Keith Wheeler says, "Get supper ready, Jesus, I'm comin' home!" And when that happens, I probably won't remember to say goodbye.

Sharing Chewed-Up Crayons

Happy New Year!!! I like it that '08 is here. When the new year arrived, we were engaged in a crazy long game of Mexican Train Dominoes at the Reynold's house. I was the youngest at the table and everybody else was yawning massively and congratulating each other on staying up so late...but then, I may have been younger but I'm not accustomed to late nights myself. In any case, it was a pleasant time (though I lost BADLY) and it definitely beat last New Year's, when I went to bed at 2:00 am with the flu!

I feel like I have some blogging to catch up on. I spent the night with Lauren and Gracie a few nights ago, and we said a lot of interesting things (what else would you expect from three such sophisticated and enlightened personages?) and Lauren and I steered Gracie toward insanity analyzing ourselves and human nature and the cosmos in general. Why do we do it? (Analyze, I mean) I don't know. Analytical people NEED other analytical people sometimes, that's all I know, or they would go crazy too. I mean, you have to know that someone else Feels the Same Way sometimes, or the world gets awefully lonely.

We also need Gracie desperately, to keep us from analyzing ourselves into little wads of expired braincells. I love you terribly, Gracie :) Please, never feel wierd for not necessarily being weird in the all the same ways other people are. You are who God made you to be, and I'm glad you break the molds of all my snotty little stereotypes- to the dump with them! Not sure if that says what I meant it to say...

Despite all our analyzing, Gracie was the one who came out with the quote of the hour. Lauren started talking about Facebook and how she had started an account recently so that she could keep in touch with her friends from Excel. I coaxed her into showing it to me, if for nothing more than cultural enrichment. I'd heard about Facebook, but never actually seen it, and I hate the idea of wandering around in cyberspatial ignorance for the rest of my days. There is still a vast swamp of ignorance out there for me to wallow in.

So, Lauren kindly enlightened me. Gracie looked on with some disdain while we discussed how many "friends" Lauren had, and what online "presents" she could give them, and all the other quirky wonders of Facebook. Then she finally said, "Facebook is just a bunch of first graders giving each other their chewed-up crayons!"

As my "fieldtrip" came to an end, I concluded that I wasn't going to draw any conclusions about whether Facebook is a good or bad life investment. Everyone has a different life. Blogger is best for me at the moment :)

The niftiest thing about Facebook was the spot for quotes...I think that's great. I'll have to rig something up on my blog for quotes. Hmm.

Fat Tuesday?

No matter what a girl's size, there are days when she feels impossibly fat, and no amount of logical arguement will convince her otherwise. The safest, most tactful, helpful, and loving to do in such a circumstance would be to look her in the eyes and say, "I think you're beautiful and I'll love you forever and ever," because that's what she's really wondering about anyway.

(It hasn't been one of those particular kinds of days...I just thought it might have been for SOMEBODY out there.)

Mom read this before I titled it, and suggested I put "Fat Tuesday" for the title...she was joking, but I took her seriously, kind of.

Food for Thought

(Well, just a snack)

"We all must at some time or another face forthrightly the tragedy of love and death, so that one day the pain of separation might be replaced by the joy of reunion with the beloved one."

-Vigen Guroian, Tending the Heart of Virtue

Monotony and Daisies

My greatest trial is monotony.

Lots of people are going through terrible catastrophes and heartaches right now, but my greatest foe (seemingly) is monotony. I fear it. Sunday night bedtime comes and I already dread showering on Monday morning.

I wonder why I hate showering so much. After all, I love to be clean. I need a shower every morning because I can't stand the layers of adolescent oil that coat me from head to toe when I wake up. Every time I shower, though,at some point I find myself getting antsy and impatient. Isn't there a short cut? Can't I skip the deoderant this morning? (no!) I feel the drive to get onto more important things. Such as laundry.

The big scare comes when I think it through and realize that most of my 24 hours each day is spent in monotony. Eight and a quarter hours are "wasted" on sleep (I've tried to shave it down to less, but then end up cranky, flaky, and drained.) Preparing food and eating takes time. So does showering, dressing, doing laundry and some dishes (that's not my particular chore) and keeping my room in reasonable order. Then there's the matter of excercise. I finally figured out that it is indeed necessary.

Then I want to schedule things, and create more monotony for myself. Let's make sure we write something every day, blog something every day, practice Russian, memorize verses or poems, do teaching stuff, and read something. And don't forget quiet times!

Lately, through books, sermons, people, and...God...I've been thinking about faithfulness in the little things. What purpose can God possibly have in my spending five minutes in the morning putting on makeup? Why am I so ticked over five minutes? Well, it all adds up.

Two things have spoken to me on this matter:

"If I partake with thankfulness, why then am I slandered concerning that for which I give thanks? Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all for the glory of God." 1 Cor. 10:30-31

"Repitition, far from signifying deadness, may signify delight, desire, and vitality...[children] want things repeated and unchanged. They always say 'do it again'...It may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy , for we have sinned and grown old..." (emph. mine)

-- G.K. Chesterton (a quote from a book I was reading by someone else)

When I read these things I was flooded with a sense of the Old Joy. The bittersweet Joy of long fall afternoons grubbing around the creek bottoms with my cousins in a comfy checkered flannel shirt and semi-ragged jeans. You never want those days to end. You want them to go on and on happening again and again, and the greatest tragedy is when you become a seventh grader and suddenly feel selfconscious digging in the mud with your boy cousins.

So where has the Old Joy gone? I get the sense that God doesn't mean for us to quit having it just because we aren't eight years old any more. I mean, what difference is ten years, anyway?

Isn't it bazaar that God has been making the same flowers in the same places at more or less the same time every year for thousands of years and hasn't gotten tired of it yet? If it were me, I would say "Enough with the flowers already, let's try something else." I think I'd invent a few new laws of physics or another whole world, for that matter! Good grief!

When I think about the Patience of God, I'm astounded, surprised, ashamed, melted, assured, relieved, and encouraged all in one fluid succession. His delight and faithfulness in arranging the dew drops every morning quite justifies spending a little time putting on my makeup each day, and thanking Him for it :)

Thank God It's Thursday

TGIT. As in, "Thank God it's Thursday." My "work week" (haha) is finished. All the mini English lessons for the week are wrapped up. Actually, I really love getting to do English with Mattie and my cousins and the Crowes, and being at the Crowes' in the mornings. I just discovered suddenly this afternoon that I was tired. So droopingly tired. Maybe it's the new schedule, late nights, or an extra dose of wacky, unpredictable emotions (as in, more than usual).

I realized just now that I did seven writing lessons this week between five different kids...and considering that I didn't prepare for it much at all and teaching them writing like that is pretty new, I guess that did take a lot out of me. I was happy about all the practice though. I feel like I'll be able to get in a groove of some sort before too long.

Everything feels like a big experiment, like a cat testing the way in the dark with its whiskers. Each of the kids is smart and shows signs of "getting" the things I'm doing with them though, and a get the sense that its "working." Only time will tell, I guess. That seems like it would be the scariest thing for homeschool moms-- the idea that only time can show if the kids are actually "getting educated." Since every family is different, school is an experiment. What if you wake up one day to find that whatever you've been trying to teach them for the past three years didn't take? AHHHHH!!!! Ok, I know that's a little exaggerated. I can tell that they are learning something.

Perhaps, I tell myself, my brain wouldn't be spread so thin if I had just taught my "students" together instead to privately tutoring each one of them. The only "class" lesson was with Mattie, Jane, and Catherine today when we went out in the woods and wrote poems about fall. (Since it mercifully dipped into the 50's last night.) But no. I try to teach them several at a time, but their individualness pops out everywhere and grabs at me...not to mention that they're different ages and levels. Each one has different needs, and, though I may be an audacious little pipsqueak still wet behind the ears, my greatest desire in teaching them is to meet and help them where they are personally. I feel like I'm accomplishing so much more when I work with them one at a time! Emotionally I can't seem to deal with more than one person at a time. That goes for mentally in a lot of cases, too!

Although the "teaching thing" is taking some adjusting right now, I am having fun with the variety I'm getting to experience this year. Here's what the teaching week looked like...

Tuesday: Counting, Robert Louis Stevenson, reviewing phonics cards, getting writing assignment started, telling time, 5x's table, poetry appreciation at the library.

Wednesday: More numbers practice (involving sidewalk chalk), Jack and the Beanstalk, two separate writing assignments, spelling lesson.

Thursday: A spot of geography, phonics, counting, Rumplestiltskin, reading about heliocopters and making model rotor blades (which flew beautifully from the top of the stairs when twisted properly), spelling lesson, writing fall poetry, revising writing assignment.

Ages 4 to 14. I guess it sounds kind of like a homeschooling Mom's day only minus the responsibilities of housework, cooking, being a wife, and taking care of the rest of the kid's overall school work, health, and wellbeing. Ok, so maybe I'm not as tired as I thought I was. Think I'll go give my Mom a hug :)

"Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and forget none of his benefits; who pardons our iniqities, who heals all our diseases, who redeems our life from the pit, who crowns us with lovingkindness and compassion..." Ps. 103

In the Rearview Mirror

I had a driver's license anniversary yesterday. I've now been legally driving alone for one year! Well, I mean, it wasn't as if I had been driving illegally before that. It was all Mom could do to coax me into the vehicle at all :)

It's exciting to take stock of my own growth in driving. Since I hadn't done any learning that intense since first grade, it kind of shocked me to pass milestones and learn at such an accelerated pace! After that initial instance of roaring up the driveway in the caravan, arms locked to the steering wheel in a death grip, my throat choked with unshakeable fits of nervous laughter-- I didn't have much confidence that I'd ever be able to drive "normally." It wasn't a pretty sight.

I did though, aquired a sort of fondness for driving, after some of the unknowns were eliminated. Such as, which one is the gas and which one is the brake? That's important, you know. You mean I have to cross all four lanes of traffic? And wait...WHY ARE THOSE CARS COMING TOWARD ME WHEN I HAVE A GREEN LIGHT!!!!! Mom and Dad berated me over and over for my timidity, because I was about to get everybody killed wavering back and forth about whether or not to pull into traffic. Dad came up with my battlecry. "When you see the opening, you can't just inch out there, Cassie, you have to Commit. Commit!"

Well, now I commit. Sometimes I commit a little too much. Sometimes I just hurtle through those intersections, causing our poor van to lurch and groan like a seasick elephant (no, I've never seen one of those) One day I took a curve a little fast on the way to youth group and Connor commented, "Gosh, Cass, Mom and Dad would never know you were the same girl who would hardly pull out in the street a couple months ago."

Now, I'm quite happy driving. In fact, it's going to be hard to relinquish control to my nearly-16-year-old brother who has been revving his figurative engine for some time now. When he and I are together, I'm always the nervous one, the protected one, the stay-in-the-background one. I rely on him, because he likes to be relied on, and because I like being protected. But I've also discovered that I rather savor having a little power. Keys and steering wheel. Final say over the radio. Drivers seat. It's all about to go bye-bye in another three months.

Several weeks ago I was driving the two of us to a birthday party, in the evening. I'd had a frazzled day and was trying to calm down on the way there, while dealing with evening traffic. Connor said something like, "Just wait till I can drive. You won't have to worry about driving any more. I'll take care of it." I probably frowned. As I said, I secretly enjoy my rein of...(well, not terror, but...). He searched my face and his playful demeanor took on a note of what I took for masked seriousness. He busted out the question I knew I'd have to answer sooner or later. "Would you feel safe if I were driving right now? Do you trust me?" I suddenly sensed that I was treading on land mines. I'd actually mulled over this one a lot in my head, but now that it came to words, I wanted to answer carefully.

"Well, when you get your license, I'll feel safe with you driving."

"Yeah, but right now, if I were driving, would you feel safe, like if Dad were driving?" He was very earnest about it. I kept my eyes straight ahead and twisted my hair. Gee, Connor, isn't that a lot to ask? You've only been in Drivers Ed for two months!

"Well, uh, Connor, you don't have a license...no I don't feel safe with that. The idea of riding with someone who's driving illegally would freak me out. I wouldn't be able to relax."

"But if I had my license right now, and I was driving, would you be able to relax?"

"Well, you don't have the experience Dad has, you know...but, I mean, I trust you. I think I could relax." By the grace of God, I would relax.

Connor is a great driver, from what I've seen of his driving under permit. He isn't scared like I was, and he's had lots of chances to get comfy with vehicles, driving around in our field. He went into driving lightyears ahead of me. The big question is really a test for me, not for him. Can I relinquish control?

Well, I overcame a lot of fears when I learned to drive. Maybe that's part of the reason I like it so much. Right now, when Connor and I are together in public, I am the driver. I am bold. (I like to imagine, anyway) It is I, alone, who can undertake the dangerous task of transporting our company safely to our destination through flood, flame, or dark of night. I'm an overcomer. And, hey, I can turn off the radio when I feel like it. But I think, if I could overcome a fear of driving with myself, I ought to be able to trust God to keep me from sqirming in the passenger seat when my big-little brother drives me around town. We'll see.

Delight in the Useless

Today I discovered all over again how much I love useless things. Useless, perfect little things. I spent a good while thinking up excuses for excusing my liking for little useless things. But, as I get older (not old, older) I can start to see why I did some of the weird stuff I did as a little kid (and, ok, a big kid.) It's a love of useless things, and it seems to be a godly trait ;)

So, Ethan and I zipped off to the Educational Supply at about 11:30 to pick up the pattern blocks Mom had ordered for him. I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not Elsie Dinsmore. I didn't want to go. I wanted to be stuffy and bask in uninterrupted serenity at the dining room table (haha) drowning in the Everest-type mound of books, folders, and notebooks that's been accumulating on my dresser. But I went.

It's always kind of odd taking my little brother places in public, holding his hand and being all motherly, wondering if people think he's my kid. I can't resist, though, the warm, melty feeling I get when he voluntarily places his hand in mine as we cross the parking lot. At those times I figure, well, he is mine, right now. Who cares what they think!

Walking into the Ed. Supply, for me, is somewhat like what walking into Aeropostale is for other girls. An undercurrent of excitement ready to erupt into squeals of delight. I rarely buy anything, but I like to look. I like experiencing sensory overload, taking in the smell of hot glue and the warmth of the packed room splashed with the rainbow colors of posters and workbooks.

While I inquired after the pattern blocks, E found the magnets. I have a weakness for magnets. Every time I'm at the Ed. Supply I look at them, but of course, they're of no use to me. Especially those bright, plastic covered magnetic marbles-- but those are the coolest kind!

That's sort of thing I was always fascinated with as a little kid, but of course, you don't get those sort of things for birthdays or Christmas. You get toys. You get light-up PJ Sparkle dolls. You get doll houses and books and tea sets and pink synthetic nightgowns that make you cry. But nobody ever thinks to get you magnetic marbles, and you never ask, because, well, what would you do with the things?

No, really, I've had a great childhood, and for the record, I loved PJ Sparkles :) But I always felt weird for liking little useless things. In reality, I think every kid falls in love with tiny things. That's why some genius came up with Polly Pockets and Micro Machines. Before I got an efficient streak, was a fool for anything collectable. I had a rock for every day of the week (and holidays) which I displayed on a cord and wire around my neck everday when I was twelve. At the age of seven, My friend Chelsea and I played "Petshop" for hours with our impressive collections of miniscule plastic animals. We fought over them. We stole each other's Petshop. And we always argued over whose turn it was to get "Mom Cat," the petite, cream-colored cat with the gorgeous cerulean eyes. Why? She was tiny, beautiful, and perfect. And in case Mom is still looking for an explanation about why I kept a dead mole in my nightstand for three days when I was five...that rather stiff lump of shimmery, silky nut-brown fur...well. It's just a sudden hypothesis that in every kid, and every healthy adult, there's something that's fascinated by small and useless do-dads.

That's why Ethan went straight over there and started messing around with those marbles. When I saw him, and saw that the marbles were only 19 cents a piece, we promptly picked out six. And bought them. I was thinking, "That's just what I would have wanted!"

Reveling in the joy of little things, I took special notice of the tree outside the building on the way out. I'd seen it when we had come in, and its small, heart-shaped leaves had caught my attention. They reminded me of Aspens (my favorite tree ever since we went camping in Colorado five years ago). The leaves were smooth, and some of them were reddening and falling off. There were clusters of a roundish green fruit on the branches. So, be it lawful or not (is it ok to pick other people's plants?) I plucked a leafed, fruited branch end and took it home for further study. "It might come in handy in a story sometime," I thought.

As we drove home with our pattern blocks, magnet marbles, and mystery flora, I mulled over a happy sort of discovery. There's a reason I'm a packrat! There's a reason I love staring at small objects, handling them, piddling with them, and dooming them to a "collection" stuck in the closet somewhere! Maybe God made me to get fascinated by the details and store them up so that I could WRITE about them! Maybe it's so that I can enrich a mental world on paper enough to communicate ideas and evoke emotions in others! It's not that I'm skilled at this yet, but I guess I have a natural tendency to like the insignificant things that don't seem to matter to "real" life, and that can be developed into a skill for writing! Yay!

Besides making something "useful" out of useless things, trying to tell myself I'm not a mental case (I just like to write- is there a difference?) I think that God likes little things Himself. I'm not trying to spiritualize everything, only to give you a taste of the happiness that's in my heart today that God, who seems too large and busy to take notice of such "mitey" beings, cares about so much more than even our basic needs.

"Who [waters] a land where no man lives, a desert with no one in it, to satisfy a desolate wasteland and make it sprout with grass?" Job 37:26-27

Hmm. I wonder! :)

Andree Seu, an essay writer for World Magazine (I love her articles and sometimes find myself trying to write like her!) said, in her last World Article, "The Uselessness of Delight,"

"Delight is the most useless of things. It doesn't get the house clean or the bills paid. Useless-- like flowers. Like rainbows. Like Beethoven's 9th...it seeks a getaway vacation with the beloved when it's not convenient... What is less efficient than the story of mankind? If it were about efficiency, God would have wiped the plate clean and commenced with more promising subjects. The Bible in entirety is a love story, a tale of unquenchable delight- His for us, finally ours for Him."

Attending the Wed...uh, Battle

I have very few minutes to write. In a little while we're going to church to prepare for and attend Rachel and Adam's wedding...joy! I was already there yesterday, partaking of the feelings in the air and enjoying the stunning artwork of God in the form of fresh colored peppers :) (we were cutting vegetables.)

I'm so happy to see Rachel get married (and Adam to, though I don't know him as well). I look up to Rachel so much, and she's the kind of person who makes me think "I wish I could just get inside her mind and see what she's like more." And learn from her. She has so much grace, and the word I thought of when I saw her at her shower was "tranquility."

Speaking of tranquility...oh weddings are so beautiful and happy...its a luxury to bask in the sweetness of the fellowship and anticipation and beauty, just enjoying watching lives and people, and getting to share their smiles. For us young ladies though...we look so forward to attending a wedding and its so delightful, but I'm afraid that for some of us (all?) get the feeling we're also walking straight onto a battle ground the minute we step into the church doors, smell the flowers, and catch a glimpse of the glowing bride.

I hope to escape, by the grace of God, the assailing forces of romantic imagination (ahhhhhh!!!!) I remember going home from a wedding a few years ago and burying my head in a pillow with the closest thing I've ever had to a migraine, headphones, droning Fur Elise into my ears, trying to forget, and remember, and hold on to the beauty, and yet let go...aggg.

I'm more aware of the battle today than I was then, a little more ready to meet the fray...but fray there will be, as long as warmblooded females attend weddings! For all my girlfriends out there who will be at the wedding...know I'm praying for you and we're in the battle together. We battle for strength yet tenderness, love, yet focus on the Lover of our souls. Amen!

Seasons

Life...it passes so slowly for all the action that it holds. (to loosely quote Jim Elliot) As I told Mom at lunch time, it's a one-thing-at-a-time kind of day. (But isn't every day?) In terms of physical goals accomplished...there are three.

Goal #1 Have a meaningful, encouraging conversation with Mom
Goal #2 Shower
Goal #3 Start housework

Well, I did it! I accomplished my goals :) In the course of the morning I also had a short stint as imaginary stage coach driver, took a letter to the mail box, and restrained myself from contributing volatile comments during a semi-heated debate over how pop tarts should be eaten. (All in favor of toasted, say aye!!) There, got that off my chest. Sometimes one's suppressed opinions become a burden too onerous to bear.

Honestly, though, I want to encourage any of you who are wrestling with the mundane right now. That seems to describe me, and a lot of the people I hang out with :) It could be that we're just a boring, purposeless lot; or it could be that we love Jesus and we're learning to trust Him.
I think it's the latter :)

I know that in the world's eyes, in my own eyes, I haven't "gotten much done." But really, I do have two worthy goals.

Goal#1 Love God
Goal#2 Love people

And from what I've heard, that's actually just one goal mixed together! Today, my young cousins are over (the imaginative stagecoach passengers), I have three siblings and two parents milling around, and soon Mattie and I's friend Camila will be here! And later I'll be babysitting at least five impressionable, creative, busy youngsters who I love...and who knows who else I'll meet. And God. God is here, always gentle with me, guiding me. I haven't done a perfect job of showing love, but its my goal, and I'm pursuing it in a steady course.

I want to encourage you to enjoy the stage coach rides with me, to liberally distribute smiles and kind words, and most of all sing songs of praise to the One who desevers them. Life works in SEASONS, as a good friend encouraged me several months ago. We'll always deal with struggles, but not all struggles are going to last forever. The same God who causes the seasons to come and go, the sun to rise and set, and the tides to rise and fall, will not abandon His children.

""Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to seperate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark the seasons and days and years, and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth." And it was so." Gen. 1:14-15

"So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will recieve what He has promised. For in just a little while,

'He who is coming will come and will not delay.
But My righteous one will live by faith.
And if he shrinks back,
I will not be pleased with him.'

But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved."
Heb. 11:35-39

You are not alone.

Learning to be Cilvilized (and the book on How To)

Well adjusted...thank you for your comment, Mrs. Burklin. It was good to be reminded of being a stranger in this world, and that its ok, necessary, even.


When I think of well-adjusted, I think of having the ability to be comfortable and at ease in any situation with any people...to be able to say and do what is appropriate, to be at home in one's own skin. Alive, but not obnoxious. Present, but not painfully obvious.


A few days ago I was in Barnes and Nobles with Dad, and, foolishly, I did bring money, and, foolishly, I left my guard down about all those lovely books. What possessed me in that moment, I can't say, but after 15 minutes of skimming a little book called "The Art of Civilized Conversation" I impetuously bought it.


Not only was it odd for me to buy such a little book for such a lot of money, it was (is) faintly embarressing to buy such a book, especially since I didn't mean to read it just out of sheer boredom but actually had need of it...


Like most books, there were the good, bad, and the hmm-I'm-not-sure parts, but overall it was pretty helpful. Its rare to find a book (especially a self help book, which I guess you would categorize that as) that doesn't completely focus on you, and how you should find yourself, assert yourself, pamper yourself, and whatever else you FEEL like doing to yourself. Instead, The Art of Civilized Conversation emphasized that, in order to have meaningful conversations, you absolutely must focus on the other person, their interests, feelings, and personality. A Biblical concept, one summed up in Philippians 2:3-4, which Mom made us memorize at a very young age and repeat often (usually after a good sibling bickering match)

"Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind, let each of you regard one another as more important than himself. Do not merely look out for your own interests, but also for the interests of others."

And Philippians 2 goes on to say that the reason we should treat people this way is that that is the way Christ treated us. I'm coming to realize (in a painful sense of knowing-but-not-being-there-yet) that shyness and selfconsciousness and extreme sense of social ineptness is sometimes not merely a personality trait, but a sin, if it means that I'm just focusing on myself. So this book, which has to do with adjusting oneself socially, really helped me see habits of conversation that are downright selfcentered that I had never even thought of before. It exposes false humility and how you can be thinking you are complimenting the other person when really you are putting the spotlight on yourself, among other things. I went through the book thinking, "oh, I thought there was something wrong with talking like that, I just didn't know there was another way to do it!"

I think a main error of the book would have been that it encouraged politeness to the extent of tolerance. While it did encourage considerate confrontation for inappropriate actions, etc., it also encourages you to keep your mouth shut about "your religious beliefs" and not push. While in a sense I think some Christians really could use more tact and consideration and less pushiness in presenting the gospel, others among us already have a hard time opening our mouths for Christ's sake in the first place. While a Christian ought to "as far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men," we also ought to be ready to follow the Holy Spirit's leading at any time as well, even when its not comfortable or socially acceptable. Jesus wasn't always polite in His conversation, but He always did and said what the Father told Him.

Anyhow, I'm just mulling over these things in my head (and now on my blog). It comforts me to know that He isn't finished with me, with us, yet. I so deserve it to be over! But somehow, its miraculously not!

"People are more, much more, than what holds them back."

That was a quote from The Art of Cilivized Conversation that really captured my attention, and its one I want to see others through, as well as myself.

To Do When Relaxing

Just so you know, I haven't given up on updating this blog. In fact, I've been waiting all week for this prime moment of Saturday-ness...

Earlier, a bit after 11, Dad came in and asked me if I'd had a chance to blog yet this morning(knowing it featured largely in my plans for the day.) "Uh...no" I answered.

"What did you doing all morning?"
"Hmm...I slept. I woke. I showered. I, uh..."
"Relaxed?" he questioned. "Yeah! I relaxed." I agreed, just relieved to have a valid excuse NOT to have "done something."

In lieu of my extreme relaxedness this morning, (now lapsed into afternoon) I'm going to postpone even the activities on my "To Do When Relaxing" list and, well, relax. :) Congratulate me! Ciao.

One passing thought:

What constitutes being a "well adjusted" person, and pray, do any of these fortunate individuals actually exist?

Seeking

This might end up kind of long, but I need to lay out my thoughts somewhere. In an earlier post, I talked about "Bob," the imaginary person who torments me with confusion over what to do and when. Well, Bob has been back in such a serious way that I don't feel I should even call him Bob anymore...The past day or so, the distress has been a lot over praying, especially praying for other people. It's so difficult for me to intercede, and yet its such an obviously necessary thing for a Christian to do. I know don't do it enough, but if prayer is so important, is there ever an "enough?" I read something about Martin Luther praying for three hours one day...and I just think, even praying that much in a fervent way is an unreachable goal to me, and even then, there would always be more to pray for...sooo...it feels hopeless. I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of things a Christian is "supposed to do," and feel totally incompetant to be a Christian, which grieves me because I don't want to be separated from God. I've tasted how wonderful He is, and I hate the thought of losing Him, but I know I can never measure up.

So...I've been asking desperate questions and looking for answers- looking for answers in God's word as a wise friend counselled me to do a few days ago. Somehow I just felt like reading the King James Version (which I usually don't do) and now I know God was leading me to it, because there were some amazing things in the study section (its a study Bible, and I confess, I haven't used a Study Bible at all in my 18 years. I always thought I'd get off track and get more into the study than the Bible.) So when I type in verses, some will be in KJV while some will be in my "home version," the NIV.

Today I desperately needed some help, so first I just flipped open to Psalms, where I found I could so agree with David!

"I am feeble and very broken; I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart. Lord, all my desire is before Thee, and my groaning is not hidden from Thee..." Ps. 38: 8-9

"Hold not Thy peace at my tears; for I am a stranger with Thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were..." Ps. 39:12

"Mine iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not able to look up. They are more than the hairs of mine head, therefore, my heart faileth me." Ps. 40:12

My words to God were something like this: "God, I am broken, I need You...don't keep peace when You see me crying, please do something!...I'm a stranger with You; I feel like I don't even know You. No one else can help me, I know it has to be You...and yet, I can't measure up to what you tell me to do. I know that You've saved me by Your sacrifice and grace, but now that I'm saved I don't have the spiritual strength to keep Your commands...so it seems that I'm just going to keep sinning and separating myself from You every moment. I want to draw near...I want to say "ok, God, I'll just obey you." It's worth it to me to sit silently and try to pray for three hours if I need to try that, if I can just please You and get to come near You" But I....I can't. I just can't.

So, I realized, all over again, just like it came to me a few nights ago in another time of searching, that my deepest need is for salvation. To be able to please God. He is so big and I want Him so much, but He's just too perfect and I'm too weak. I know that He's saved me for eternal life, and I've been reading all these verses about His love...but I have always wrestled with the beautiful idea of having rest and peace and constant communion with Him here on earth. Of knowing that He's pleased with me.

It's so cool to me that that need for salvation is what David is agonizing over in the Psalms, here where I "flipped open to"!

"Sacrifice and offering You did not desire, but my ears you have pierced, (for service, like in the New Testament when they pierced the ears of bond servants), burnt offerings and sin offerings You did not require...I desire to do Your will, Oh my God; Your law is within my heart." Ps. 40:6,7 NIV

In verse 11 it says "Withhold not Thy tender mercies from me, Oh Lord..."

That's what I need...it's all I can plead from God. Please, have mercy on me.

So I found myself searching for tender mercies...and found them in Luke 1...(its much simpler in the NIV, although it sounds beautiful from the KJV)

"Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
Because He has come and has redeemed His people.
He has raised up a horn of salvation for us
In the house of His servant David...
to rescue us from the hands of our enemies,
and to enable us to serve Him without fear
in holiness and righteousness before Him all our days...

And you, my child, [John the Baptist], will be called prophet of the Most High;
For you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way before Him,
To give His people knowledge of salvation
Though the forgiveness of their sins,
Because of the tender mercies of our God,
By which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
To shine on those living in darkness
And in the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the path of peace."
(most of Luke 1:68-79), NIV, my emphasis

To serve You without fear, God- that's what I want!

So then, I looked up salvation in the study Bible notes and found that,

"The Hebrew and Greek words for "salvation" imply the ideas of deliverance, safety, preservation, healing, and soundness." The study notes also said that salvation is in three tenses:

1) "The Christian has been saved from the guilt and penalty of sin and is safe."

2) "The Christian is being saved from the habit and dominion of sin."

3) "And the Christian will be saved at the Lord's return, from all the bodily infirmities that are the result of sin and God's curse upon the sinful world and brought into entire conformity with Christ."

"Salvation is by grace through faith, is a free gift and wholly without works. The divine order is: first salvation, then works."

Whoa!!! So...my works don't affect my salvation? They don't affect the safety, healing, and protection of Christ right now? Apparently not.

In another study note I read..."For salvation, faith is personal trust, apart from meritorious work..." Personal trust. Personal trust in a personal God, whom I've known was personal and whom I've longed to know intimately, but couldn't see how childish trust could be enough. So yes, I continued, now excited, on my treasure hunt, trying to figure out what works really are. Philippians 2:12-13 says:

"Wherefore, my beloved...work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who worketh in you, to do of His good pleasure."

Oh no! Not working again...not figuring out my own salvation...once again it's a feeling of abandonment as I realize that I must be a friend of God or I have no real friendship in all the world- and yet it looks as if God has left me to figure it out for myself, like a father buying his five year old a bike and leaving him to put it together on his own on Christmas morning...But it's not this way. God is so mysterious to me...His ways are so different...His works are so different!

"What must we do to do the work God requires? Jesus answered, 'The work of God is this: To believe in the One He has sent." John 6:28-29

"...to the man who does not work but trusts God who justifies the wicked, his faith is credited as righteousness." Rom. 4:5

"There remaineth, therefore, a rest to the people of God. For he that is entered into His rest, he hath also ceased from his own works, as God did from His. Let us labor, therefore, to enter into that rest..." Heb. 4:9-11a

Working to rest...it sounds like an oxymoron, but it actually makes so much sense to me. It's definitely a big job to rest in God and give up the tendency to try to rescue myself...its a big work, but its not an impossible one because it doesn't require my strength to climb higher- only my willingness to let go.

So, again with David I will say:

"Let all those who seek Thee rejoice and be glad in Thee; let such as love Thy salvation say continually, 'The Lord be magnified!" Ps. 40:16

Love Verses from God

My bloglessness of the past two weeks has caught up with me...I don't know how to jump back in. I could talk about how much its been raining, but that would be totally unnecessary and probably annoying, so I won't. And I could tell more about recent grocery shopping experiences, but that would be redundant, and probably also annoying, so I won't.

So, hmm. God's word is really amazing right now. It's hard to say that without a twinge of guilt, because, while it's been so amazing to me, I keep on putting it off and pushing it aside like dirty laundry. But that doesn't change God, or His word, and I'm so thankful for that!! I've been writing down verses on cards and keeping them close...in the kitchen, by my bed, in my purse (where they keep getting ruined in the rain.) Until now, I've mostly ignored verse cards, avoiding them like a truant because of my constant failure at memorization. But I'm not *ahem* memorizing the verses...I'm just reading them a lot so that I remember them. See? It's NOT the same. We've been looking up verses on who God says we are...and it brings so much security at a time when I need it so much! Well, I guess everyone needs it, but I find in the middle of the life crisis of graduating and all the changes that go with that, I REALLY feel the need to know what God says to me and about me. And more often than not, the verses are really saying something about who HE is for me.

I can't doubt His love...
"I have loved you with an everlasting love." Jeremiah 31:3

I am not rejected...
"I have chosen you and not rejected you." Isaiah 41:9

I am not left behind...
"I will never leave you nor forsake you." Hebrews 13:5

I am not cut off, untouched, alone, lost, or out of control...
"You have hemmed me in behind and before, You have laid Your hand apon me." Ps. 139:5

I am not unwanted...
"I belong to the Lord." Isaiah 44:5

All these are just faint echoes of a mysteriously wonderful relationship with a mysterious, wonderful, invisible Being who I'm just beginning to love...It's like a childhood, an adoption, a courtship, an engagement, a marriage, a friendship, all rolled into one rich purple garment wrapped around my shoulders...the "garment of salvation" mentioned in Isaiah 61:10 (another love verse!)

It's so amazing to bask in this and let it soak in, surround me, drown me...and these are only five verses in a whole book-full!

Like an Ocean

Jesus, Jesus
Holy Lover
Waves of love
Washing over
Wrap me in Your sweet affection
Safely hold me in perfection
Of Your sufferings.

This is what came to my mind (and pen) yesterday when I was feeling small and sweaty and insecure and anguished, and I remembered a picture God had given me a while back of what His love for me is like.

God's love for me (for you, too) is like an ocean. Always there, always full. Generally speaking, an ocean always has the same amount of water, but the water is always in its cycle of waves and tides. I'm always in the ocean, but sometimes it feels like the tide has gone out...When I question God's love, it's usually a question of "does He still love me?" He said He did yesterday, but does He still love me today, after I didn't make time for Him, or didn't do those extra dishes, or whatever. Does He still love me when my hair is cut? Does He love me when I'm sweaty and need a shower? I'm grinning at myself as I write...but really, I girlishly wonder these things. But He still loves me. "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" so I can never make His love more or less. It's always an ocean full. When I sit in the lamplight at night and just smile at Him, sometimes I feel a giant wave of that love wash over me. He doesn't love me more, He just simply loves me, and as He so passionately expresses in Hosea 11, His heart is turned over within Him, and it swells in mighty waves over us...He is so powerful!!! May you be awash in His love and not be able to do a thing about it!

New Life

Yesterday was such a happy day, that at the end of it I had to go outside and sing to God because I was about to burst. He has just filled my life with good things. New babies and rain and a church body to love and intergenerational friends and most of all His Body, broken for me, and His Blood, shed for me.

In the morning, we went and picked up Bronwyn and Clarky because their little brother was being born. When we got to the house we found out that he was already here! We carted off Bron and Clark anyway and enjoyed them all day. We had dear friends over for lunch and played Balderdash and Boggle. So. What do you think the real definition of "wedeln" is?

1. A bird that nests in the crevices of cliffs
2. An iron pot handle
3. A skiing technique
4. A mug
A Swedish petticoat

I dare you to guess. These were the definitions we came up with, but one of them is actually correct! And you're going, "who made up this word?"

When we took Bron and a very sleepy Clark home in the evening, we got to see and hold the new baby. His name, till further notice, is "We Don't Know Crowe." Holding him was miraculous. I could hardly breath; I wanted to cry. This warm, frowny, eight pound bundle is a little boy who's going to grow up and toddle around and run and play and learn to read just like the rest of his brothers. He's going to grow up into a great big man who loves Jesus and maybe share the gospel in Ukraine. He's real and he's beautiful and I get to hold him in my arms and watch him grow up. I have very strong "Aunt Cassie" feelings for this new "Croweling" already.

The best part of the day was communion. It's, sadly, strange for me to say that, because I've never truly appreciated communion. It's always been sort of a ritual that seemed solemn\borderline embarrassing because you have to walk up to the front of the church, etc. I try to not feel that way, because of course I love Jesus and I'm thankful for His sacrifice for me, but its just been an awkward thing.

Well, that all changed yesterday. I feel like a brand new Christian in some respects! Pastor Bud asked me to help serve communion. That's a new thing for our church and I hadn't helped do it before, though other youth had. He explained that we would hold the bread and juice, and people would come by in the line, each taking a piece of bread and dipping it in the cup. As they took the bread, the bread holder would say "the Body of Christ, broken for you," and as they dipped their bread in the juice, the cup bearer (I like that phrase!) would say "the blood of Christ, shed for you," while looking each individual in the eyes. Now I'm telling you- if I was nervous about going in a line up to the front to take communion, I was definitely quaking over serving it like that, and looking people in the eyes. Maybe it's my age, maybe my background, maybe my personality...I dunno. Maybe I was born for Indian culture. But I just have a hard time looking everybody square in the face and acting human in public. I guess it's called shyness. Not only that, but after Pastor Bud walked away, I realized that I had a lot more questions to ask him about communion, and that the service was starting now! I was unduly freaked out. But I tried to settle my heart before the Lord and just love Him during the worship service.

As usual, God proved to me that life is not as complicated as I thought. Pastor Bud demonstrated everything for us, giving the communion servers the elements first and saying "take, eat, and give thanks with joy." Then communion began. I was the "cup bearer." Suddenly all my fear melted away. I looked each person in the eyes (or sometimes at the eyes, if they were concentrating) and said the precious words: "the blood of Christ, shed for you." Each time I said it, it grew more real and just welled up in me. It dawned on me as each person passed how I really loved and cared for them as part of my church body, and how Christ's blood was for them personally and for all of us as a whole. How could I bear any grudge, judgement, or barrier with these brothers and sisters for whom Christ died? How can you help but love these people as they come to you and you say these words to them, and it hits you how much Jesus adores them and bled for them too. You see each sheep of His flock go by...the happy, the hurting, the hard, the tender. The young and old together. You stoop to let the little child reach in, you raise the cup to the really tall guys. You see the people you see across the aisle from you every week, and the people you pass in the hall. You see people you've never spoken to and people whose lives you know. You see their joys and pains, the vestiges of a week, written on their faces. Your heart cries out to the woman who just lost her husband, the girl with the beautiful, fearful face, the hardworking father of four. Children of light. By the end, my hands were shaking. I am so thankful for the privilege to serve communion like that! I went back to my seat with the words ringing in my consciousness "The Body of Christ, broken for you; the Blood of Christ, shed for you." For you! For you! I want to tell everyone I meet...it's for you! And I want to walk in that Newness of Life every day.

Getting Rid of Bob

The time...the moment...the ahhhhhhhh!!!! I get to post on my blog!!!!

I know its silly, and anticlimactic. I'm very disturbed by my drive to blog. Especially since I'm not even blogging anything...humbug. I've been nagged incessantly by something or somebody (kind of like the little fella one the guy's shoulder in the old Golden Corral commercial- we'll just call him Bob.) Well Bob has really been bothering me. He's constantly telling me to blog, making me want desperately to blog, but in the same breath he's telling me to go do the laundry, go grade papers, go help out, go hither, go yon, but for heaven's sake, please somehow blog simultaneously. Now, my mom has said that I can multitask, that I take after Dad...but no, I'm sure she wouldn't think it a good idea for me to blog while frying eggs or anything else!

Time management. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I thought it would get better after school was done, but alas, my troubles are only magnified. I find myself trying to play the martyr all the time...trying to do the "right" thing and serve other people and whatnot...and all the time Bob just keeps pinching and pinching my insides to pieces and every night I crawl into bed unblogged and un-a-hundred-million-other-things and quite discontent. Today Mom told me to do what I wanted this afternoon so that I would be ready to do stuff together tomorrow afternoon. Although you might hope I would be grateful to my loving mother who was concerned about my pleasure, I just had to fight with Bob all day. He is such a loser! I have never called anyone a loser before, but considering the kind of person Bob is, and that nobody knows him like I do (being a figment of my paranoid imagination) I feel the freedom to call him whatever I like. I definitely pick "Loser."

Yes...and I really don't fight with other people...just Bob. He wanted me to check a million things on the internet, blog, write a lot of letters, blog, do laundry, blog, make several phone calls, blog, and possibly even mow the lawn. Oh, and blog. Basically, Bob is mean. It's just blablablablabla all day long. Do this do that do this. Your not a loving person if you don't do this for so and so. Bob is also a great Bible scholar. Boy does he know how to use scripture to manipulate me! All I really want to do is blog a nice twenty minutes about four times a week. It would be nice to think that maybe since I've blogged today, Bob will leave me alone. Knowing him as I do, I'm not going to count on it. However, there is a possiblity that things coudl get better...

See, Bob is such a horrible pest...I know the Golden Corral image (three inch tall dude perched on shoulder in red suit w/ pointy tail and accessories) sounds kinda cute, and I probably sound like an ogre for calling someone I'm so personally aquainted with a loser, right? But Bob is really getting in the way of the Holy Spirit in my life. Sometimes I get the two mixed up. I said I fight with him (Bob) and all his confusing tidbits of advice. But I don't fight very well, because, you know, I'm just me, and Bob is rather, eh, elusive. Last night something sparked Ephesians 6 to my attention and I read about the armor of God.

"...With the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. Take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Put on the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God..."

This is just what the Ephesians prescribes for fighting off "people" like Bob. I'm tired of helplessly bowing down every morning to the various shrines lined up along the wall of my heart. There's the nice little shrine called "journalling," the one called "blogging," the shrine of "make no mistakes," the shrine to "control my time," even the shrine to Bob, the disgusting little creature. I will bow down to the one True and Holy God who bought me with a price (time and everything!) and listen to His voice alone. Only He will be able to help me get rid of Bob.

People and Personalness and Contentment

May 12. A good day has passed. Today was my dear friend Chelsea's graduation...among others (I mean others graduated...Ashley, Meredith, and Laura are my friends too, only I've known Chels a quite long time :) We went to her house for a nice party afterwards.

Got to meet her friend Charlotte from the junior college...she's actually from Hong Kong! I was very excited to meet her and really enjoyed getting to know her as a person over the afternoon. She's so sweet, pretty, inquisitive, and fun to talk to!

I just thank God for personal conversations. I couldn't survive life without connecting with a human being and being able to say those two, super-precious words: "Me Too."

I must be off to bed, but want to leave a parting thought...

My life prayer right now is for contentment. I read in a book recently that Fanny Crosby (blind hymn writer over a hundred yrs ago) determined at the young age of about eight that, despite her blindness, she would always hide the "jewel of contentment" in her heart. That meant refusing to complain about her lot, refusing to dwell on complaints inside. Refusing to regret and be wistful. What could I have to be discontent about, you might ask? After all, I've just graduated, and the world seems virtually at my fingertips. Youth, Health, Friends, Family, God's amazing Care and Grace are on my side...well, its the little foxes that ruin the vineyard. It's the chinks in your happiness that rub. Like Fanny Crosby, I claim the Jewel of Contentment. I want to learn to polish it...and I hope it will shine all my life.

Here is the definition of contentment by Jeremiah Borroughs (I'm not familiar with him, I got this quote from a book entitled "Believing God for His Best," which I recieved as a grad gift.)

Contentment is: "a sweet, gracious form of Spirit which freely submits to and delights in God's wise and fatherly disposal in every condition."

There we go.