Spring Break Eve :)

Can you believe it? I'm posting again!

Today was a pleasant day in that it was the last day of normal life until Spring Break begins (it seems like I've been waiting all my life for Spring Break.) I'm really tired of feeling busy. Not necessarily being busy. Most Americans could probably look at my life and guffaw because I really do nothing compared to them...no sports, music, college classes, or "adult things" like full time jobs or running households or mommying. But life goes on non-stop, and it scares me that I might never come to a point where there is nothing to do. Nothing I need or ought to do. I feel harried...haggled...hassled...but God says "Come to me, all who are weary, and I will give you rest..." It's like a sweeping invitation: Come to me...whispered lavishly, not in my ear, but across a field in the afternoon when the sun is beginning to go down. Come.

So yeah, I guess resting is a process and I'll have to keep learning it. Please tell me there's hope! One of the busy (but rather fun) things we did today (Connor, Mattie, and I did some errands) was pick out fabric at Hancock's. I had the bright idea of making a decorative bag...something as exotic and shimmeringly "eastern" as possible...something that's like desert sunsets and sheiks and Arab princesses...the romanticized version. And camels. I have a definite fondness for camels. All humpy and large. Well, somehow I doubt the bag will be exactly what I planned, especially considering my sewing skills *small titters of embarressed amusement* Surely it can't be that hard. The fabric is dupioni silk (please don't ask me what that means...all I know is that it's pretty, and it was in with the "Asian brocades") The silk is a brownish gold, and is shimmery and somewhat rough, but light. (No, that isn't an oxymoron!) The ribbons were red with gold embroidery and beading, gold and brown design, chocolate satin, and gold. Then I purchased tiny red beads and gold sequins to sew on...exotic indeed! So, we'll see what happens!

Library Adventures, etc.

It's been much longer than I meant to go without posting. I've actually been wondering if I would even post again 'til I graduate, because nothing ever seems to be finished, and I try to wait till my work is done to post...so much for being a good girl. Life goes on, in spite of itself. In spite of school, which, though a strain, is really quite enjoyable in general. What will I do without it?

I think I'll:

1. Keep learning
2. Attempt to help others learn :)

This morning, instead of having quizzes and spelling lessons, etc, Bronwyn, Rodgy, I went to the public library with Deb and the other kids. AHHH!! There are so many books! What do you pick? There is honestly some scary stuff in that library, and you can't just go letting them devour the shelves, as some kids (like my sister) want to do at certain stages of reading. Once my Dad found a book in the kids section called "How to Sue Your Parents." Ouch. So anyway, having left the handy dandy list at home, I was sort of at a loss as to what to help the kids find... Yes, there are those time honored classics I loved when I was knee-high to a grasshopper, but it seems that a mere ten years has totally uncoolified the cool books. I didn't think I was that old, honestly. Really, though, if you can just get them to peer past the covers...the classics are still classic. A few we ended up with were: Georgie the Friendly Ghost, Heckedy Peg (gotta love the illustrations!), Meet Felicity, Encyclopedia Brown, The Three Trins (by the guy who wrote Babe). Remembering how that last one used to crack me up, I recommended it to Rodge. Taking it from me with an Eeyorish expression, he appealed to a higher court (his mother) concerning the injustices inflicted upon him. "Do I have to read this?" The verdict was...yes. (Wicked inward laughter welling up inside me) Just you wait. Its gonna be great. Oh, the adventures of reading.

It really is difficult ot figure out what a very intelligent, pessimistic, no-nonsense third-almost-fourth grade boy would be interested in reading. Never having been in that spot, I wouldn't know. I'm all excited about introducing the likes of Grimms Fairytales, but somehow I'm thinking that's not going to cut it :)

Yesterday I got to experience an Ethiopian meal at geography...Mrs. Burklin had made some injera. (I think that's what you call it) We sat at a low table instead of the [more authentic] floor, and ate with our fingers, scooping up the chicken and sauce with the dark brown tortilla shaped bread. I hadn't had a good finger-eating fix since India, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Made Connor jealous. Sadly, I always compare everything to India, (is it more Indian or more Western?), so while the meal was African... I was thinking of India. Connor and I think we need to have an India night and make curry, chapati, dal, and chai...use our Indian chai cups and golden elephant table cloth, dress up in kurtas and stuff...I could wear my new jangly anklet...it could be quite fun. Oh, and don't forget the gulab jamons...a sumptuous syrupy dessert. Well, if we do it, he will have to help cook, is all.

On Sunday we went to the Daffodil Farms...it was beautiful, and pretty cold and windy. We bummed around and took pictures, etc. We also happened to see Bob the Doughnut Man. No, that isn't a tv show. He happens to be the guy who works at (runs?) Shipley's Donuts
(the best in town, most definitely), an old family aquaintance. And I do mean old. Not that he is extremely ancient, but he was probably the first person my dad met when he moved here, several years before I was born. I don't know about the first...but, you know, it sounds good. That doughnut shop is a special place. First Dad went there, then he'd take my mom, and then they would bring their little tykes in...awww...legacy...heritage...So we've kind of half known this guy for years. Not that I had actually talked to him before, but I remember when he used to throw flour at us as we watched him knead the donuts from behind the window, and occasionally my dad sees him around town. He remembers searching the garbage for my mom's keys at the shop. It's just extremely wierd that he's a real person who goes to the daffodil gardens just like us. He seems mythical. Like the doughnut man of yore...

Violets

Today was one of those days that can either send you plummeting or pull you into an odd little nook of joy. Actually I haven't collected all my joy, but I expect to :) I won't go into details about the significant struggles I've been having, but I want to just ITERATE (to use a great vocab word) that God is God, and He's loving and...yes. He IS. And guess what. I can't make paragraphs again :( This morning Mattie and I had breakfast in bed together...peanut butter toast, and chai in dainty little cups with violets on them. Violets are extremely important. Without them, February would not be itself. Back to topic...Mattie and I had a nice breakfast and girl talk, dicussing our dream bedroom (which would resemble a princess's quarters from Arabian Nights, all in red and gold and shimmers). Poor Mattie is still suffering with the chicken pox (you know where she got them) but she was pretty perky most of the day today. Connor, on the other hand, has chicken pox and is not perky. As usual, he is the one with the high, constant fever. Even after the doctor's visit and taking meds he's had fever. Apparently only 5% of kids our age even get chicken pox! (and it can be really bad) I thought I had quite a case, but he is terribly miserable. Later today I breezed and slogged through English assignments by turns and fended off internal, invisible enemies. Walking around near our house later on, I found a patch of tiny violets on a hill, surrounded by all sorts of other little green grasses. Stooping down, I plucked a lavender violet (which was hardly big enough to really hold) and sniffed it. I didn't know those have a smell!! But they do- a faint sweet scent. It spreads when you take it in. I asked God about the violet, because it smelled so good, and I was hurting, and I wanted to know what it had to do with my life. What He seemed to be saying went something like this: You're like the violet. It looks too small to even have a scent, but its smell is sweet, and the wind blows it wherever it wishes. You have the fragrance of Christ, even though, compared to the whole universe, there's really no difference between the size of you and that violet. That fragrance will blow over the whole earth. It will blow in your family, where you live. You might not guess I smell like Jesus from some of my attitudes and actions here with my family, where it counts, but I'm growing to be like Him. The growing pains just seem to have intensified. So, just before supper time, I got a spade and the cut off end of a plastic bottle and, digging up that splotch of violets, I "planted" them and took them home. They are so delicate and dainty. It's a sign of hope :)

Broken Words to God

Jesus, I'm overwhelmed and overloaded
With weights of thoughts and shoulds and oughts
Today and tomorrow and the next day
My heart was distantly straying
I know You saw
My lips were babbling to someone else
I know You heard
I'm having a hard time
I'm tired inside of trying
I've been burdened all day
With 'oops, I'm doing it again'
But I don't want to exert the effort to stop
And if I did what good, what difference
Would it make? I'll never be perfect
I'll never live up to the standard
Having what it takes
I know You're on the throne
In unapproachable light
But aren't You here with me too?
Thinking of holding Jesus' hand
Before Your throne
And remembering You reconciled...
And then my thoughts drag me off
And time slips from between my fingers
Gone. And over.
And the thing I look forward to most
Is so tenuous, so shaky
It may not come at all
And I've wasted so much joy
And I don't want to waste my life
And it's not my life, I know
But if it is really Yours I wish
It would look different
I'm having a hard time
Being perfect, God
I'm having a hard time
Living
I don't see victory
And I need You
Help me approach You...
The Throne of Grace
The Great High Priest
There's too too much to think about
Please swallow me up like a full moon
Swallows up the night in its glowing eyes
Swallow me like the ocean
Swallows raindrops and ocean liners
Oh God, You're big enough!
No matter what I doubt
And no matter what I fear about myself
And no matter what I try to figure out
I'll keep on believing that You're the
Faithful and the True
I can't pray enough
Can't love enough
Can't read enough
Can't do enough
Can't stay awake enough
But You are my Enough
Here I am God
Love me.
I really wanna see You
High and Lifted Up
I really wanna be free
I'm really tired of this mess
And the clouds inside my head and heart
I really wanna get set
Get ready, Go, run the race
Without the chains
Be confident
In Your tender mercies
And Your real Holiness and High-Upness
Oh Jesus, mediate
Like I haven't seen yet
Oh God my Father, recieve me
As I've heard You have
Repair the broken wreckage
Help me not to matter to myself
Swallow me up in Your
Majesty

On Yogurt

I'm not posted out yet...so here I am again.

I just have some thoughts about yogurt I'd like to share. I just ate some, with walnuts in it. Makes a great snack, although it was fat-free, which is gross. Not that we tried to get fat free, but of the few times we ever get yogurt we somehow mangage to get the wrong kind... I just don't get the point of fat free yogurt, seeing as it's supposedly so good for you anyway.

A few weeks ago I picked up some yogurt at Walmart because I wanted to make some Indian bread. Of all the yogurts (they come fat free in pale blue plastic containers, and plain in other containers, in itty personal servings in strawberry, blackberry, peach, keylime pie, and every other flavor, they probably come whipped, oh, and there's a lot of vanilla...) there was but one brand and one kind of container of plain ol' yogurt. It made me sad. It made me lonely for India, where, if there was a Walmart, plain yogurt would line a kilometer's worth of shelves and people would squint at you when you asked for keylime. Really. So I took my plain little yogurt up to the cash register in a little raincloud of international disgruntlement and had a little pity party. I don't think it affected anybody much.

So this week, I was still on yogurt. I really enjoyed eating the plain kind (with fat) because it has a tang and texture woefully absent in other yogurts- vastly superior. While I had chicken pox (and a sore throat) I made an Indian drink I had in a New Delhi restaurant. It's called lassi (as in Cassi Lassi). All I did was put

1/2 Cup Yogurt
1/2 Cup Milk
1/8-1/4 tsp Salt

In the blender and blended it until it frothed up. It sounds wierd, but it was very soothing and that was pretty much all that could tempt my languishing appetite all day.

So yes, if anyone was reading my blog before, they may no longer. I just felt like getting on my yogurt soap box today. (Gracie!)