Something Borrowed

2012-01-26T18:55:00.000-08:00

2012-01-24T21:38:00.001-08:00

Goodness gracious. It’s been a while since a post, so I offer my deepest apologies. Amid a whirlwind of activity that included bridal showers, winter storms, power outages, weddings, work, and hopefully soon a new niece, I have had neither the time nor creativity for a decent blog. I know, you’re thinking “I could’ve sworn I saw a more recent post that is no longer appearing here.” You’re right! I posted, then deleted. I do that sometimes… Now, to avoid having to re-assess and delete yet another post, I am playing it safe. Excerpts are the order of the day. I always make time for reading, and I know that in quoting Manton and Swinnock the likelihood that I’ll need to delete later is greatly lessened.

Thought this section on the effect of faith on our lives was quite good… It went on for a long time, so I just pulled out two quotes.

Faith sweetens all the afflictions of this life by presenting the advantages of the future, and balanceth what we feel with what we do expect. The shortest life is long enough to be sensible of inconveniences and many calamities. But though the way is rough, faith seeth heaven at the end of the journey, and so it conveyeth real support and comfort into the soul and heart of a believer. A Christian may live in the sweetness of tranquility in the midst of all outward disturbances, because the presence of his hopes makes amends for all, and giveth him a happy dedolency that he feels nothing; whereas when faith is weak we soon faint: Ps cxix 92, “Unless thy law had been my delight, I had perished in my affliction.’ There is such a sweetness in the Word, that when faith takes hold of it, the sense of worldly misery is overwhelmed and quenched. Faith is like a cordial that keeps off the poison of affliction from the vital spirits, and the poison of the encumbrances of the present life from the soul…They that know heaven to be their home, reckon the world a strange country. There is a more excellent glory sealed up to them in Christ, and they do the less care for worldly advantages; certainly they do not lay out their strength and their care upon them. Who would purchase a rattle with the same price that would buy a jewel? or dig for iron with mattocks of gold? They will not wear out their affections on carnal things; faith acquainteth them with nobler objects… But now when men only relish and favour earthly things, and live as if their hopes were only in this world, they either have no right to heaven, or believe they have none.”

-- Thomas Manton, Sermons on Hebrews 11, Sermon 2

Swinnock later!

2011-12-19T18:10:00.001-08:00

Wow. What a week I have had. On Monday, things looked so great. I woke up with energy! That was, well, abnormal and amazing. So, thanking the Lord for the temporary power boost, I put it to good use. Twelve hours later, things took turns for the worse…. I think the word they typically use to describe it is “flu”. The fact is, I’d never had it before. At least, not like this. It would be much better described with a title like “The Wretched Anguish”, or “The Despondent Misery,” or “The Wannabe Black Death". Having been hit hard, all I can really articulate is that Monday night = Worst night, physically, that I’ve ever had. Ever. Severe back pain set in a bit later, because clearly my muscles aren’t used to working for eight hours straight that hard….. So the next twelve to eighteen hours were spent half conscious on the couch, with a heating pad, moaning and groaning and pretty much only aware of misery. You’ve been there, I’m sure. Next day? similar, just less pain, and less sleep. (not that what I was getting could really be called “sleep”) I start to think I’m fine, then I sit up. Pass out, sit up again. Ringing in the ears, more moaning and groaning, then as things go more gradually black, ending up on the floor and wondering if someone will bring me ice water.

Three days later, I went somewhere. And ate real food. Yes. That is how pathetic it’s gotten. What’s more, I was actually excited to do that. *sigh*. Having lost more weight than I planned on or wanted, I’m quite ready for, oh, a steak or two. And a giant, triple or quadruple shot, extra hot, extra foam, extra caramel macchiato by tomorrow.

There are benefits that come out of it. I shudder to say those words in connection with the WBD, but it’s true. First off, you are reminded in a very real, in your face way, to pray for friends who suffer from chronic illnesses. I spent time in between bouts of sickness praying for a friend who has a bad stomach thing going on, for the last year, and the doctors don’t know what it is or how to fix it. Also time praying for a couple different people I know who have severe back pain. It’s terrible, and there’s nothing so fervent as prayers born of empathy. Always, I feel sympathetic, but when you are suffering, even temporarily, from a similar malady, you are much more stirred to approach the throne of Grace on behalf of others who have no respite in sight.

Anyway. After (mostly) recovering from that, I had a pretty busy weekend. Christmas parties are fantastic on Friday nights, and I had a grand time with the people from Emmanuel. Saturday morning the kids were here. Even though I’m convinced they are the reason I got sick, I was still happy to see them. Gabriel is becoming quite the conversationalist lately, and I’ve found that philosophizing with a three year old can be scarily on my level. I’ve been frequently surprised at the things kids come up with, though. I had an eight year old look at me recently with a furrowed brow, and ask “Are you married?” I told him I was not, and as a look of surprise crossed his face, his response was, “Oh! Well, I just thought you looked married!” And then we went back to studying more about Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot…. Then, his sister (four years old) says to me, “Why are you drinking that tea with a straw?” I shrugged and said because I thought it was fun. She gave a hilarious little giggle, and snorted, “But you’re an adult! Adults never do things that are fun!” Later, she came up with this one… “Hey Emilie Edwards, do you believe in Santa Clause?” Carefully, I asked, “What do your parents say?” She frowned, and held out her hands, “Well, I don’t think they do… But I think I do. I mean (punctuated with a frown and shrug), he’s Santa Clause.” I left that one alone….

Zoo lights: new experience. I would love to do it sometime again if 1) I had no time constraint {we did it on a Saturday night, and that’s never the best time for me} and 2) on a weekday when there are less people. Lots of lights, some animals. Cold.

Scrooge the Musical: Amazing and well done. Negatives first: This sounds terrible, but the only things I didn’t like about it were the few small attempts at Christian-ization. Gasp! It was put on by a church, but it’s the sort of church that is more prosperity, Jesus-lives-to-make-you-happy-so-let-him-in-your-heart kind of thing. Near the end, after an emotional build up and song about “changing”, they paused in the production to have all three giant screens light up with a video plea from the pastor to “pray this prayer” and welcome Jesus to your world. Oh goodness. I had never actually seen that sort of thing in action before. Honestly, it was horrifying. I felt like it should’ve been called “How to mislead hundreds of people about salvation in two easy steps.” Literally, he had them repeat after him. And yes, at the end when he wanted everyone to stand up and shout “Merry Christmas”, I was the only one in the audience who was still sitting. It’s not that I don’t like to have fun and relax—I mean, I’ll yell with the best of them when a tractor pops a wheelie at the Enumclaw Christmas parade—it’s just that I can’t bring myself to shout phrases after someone who earlier who had tried to talk everyone into saying a canned prayer that had absolutely nothing to do with the gospel, repentance, sin, or any of the essential facets of Scripture. My mother was horrified… “Really. You didn’t even stand up with the entire rest of the auditorium?” My dad, however, would’ve been the second person to stay seated. At least I didn’t say anything, though I wanted to. Phrases like “Over my dead body, you heretic” were running through my mind.. . .

Positives: Some fantastic songs were thrown in, and one in particular was sung very well by a man and woman who I could’ve listened to for quite a while. Plenty of dancing is fun to watch, and the costumes were good. So many lovely dresses! They did a phenomenal job with the orchestration aspects of it as well. Several french horns, trombones, trumpets, and pianos. What they didn’t have in strings, they made up for with around 5 keyboards. One man running two keyboards provided lots of good string ensemble background music for the creepy parts. Snowfall, random pyrotechnics, beautiful set —Fun evening!

Anyway. I am exhausted from all these random fun things, and Christmas isn’t even over yet. Hopefully I’ll be rejuvenated enough to enjoy the Christmas coffee hour this Sunday, and maybe even get up extra early on Christmas day! Optimistic thoughts indeed.

So this is Christmas…

2011-12-02T14:09:00.001-08:00

It’s come to our home! Take out several bins of mysterious looking lights, bright colors, glass ornaments, frosted ribbons, and this is what comes out of it…..

Every year, I love to be up in the middle of the night, while the rest of the household sleeps, and sit cozily in a living room only lit up by the Christmas lights. There’s a peacefulness in the atmosphere that can’t be reproduced by a bedside lamp or flashlight. If I happen to have cocoa and marshmallows, that’s an added bonus…

Those were from the living room. Our kitchen, however, is a tribute to….

Santa Clause. Shocking, I know. Living room attempts to stay elegant and relaxed. But the kitchen becomes one giant whim of fancifulness. A wreath with Starbucks ornaments, lots of peppermint colors, bright green glittered signs of “Merry Christmas”, and a giant sign that says “Believe!” Unfortunately, the face of Santa clause is directly behind the sign. I’m not sure what we are lobbying for….

And everywhere, there are lights. Last night alone, we blew a fuse three times. This Christmas season is going to alternate between twinkling, glittering brightness, and the pitch black punctuated by someone yelling “It’s pitch black in here! Somebody go reset the fuse!”

But the best addition to the decorations this year is one that will stay all year ‘round. Something I’ve waited for a long time, and might be enough to keep me living in my parents house for way too long….

Yes. It came. Last night we got the call… “We’re on our way with your piano, and it’d be great if there was a latte waiting.” For that, I’d buy a thousand lattes! (I might anyway, at the rate I’m going).

Baldwin, 5’2”. An original Baldwin, in quite decent condition. Model M. AH! Real ivory keys, true sostenuto…. Having already spent hours playing on them, yes, I can tell a difference. It surprised me, but there is definitely a better feel to them. You have more control, your fingers don’t slip at all, and therefore you can be more accurate, especially while playing faster.

Anyway. Mom and I spent quite a while laughing and giggling like maniacs last night, just looking at it. It still weirds me out to see a grand piano in our living room. I love it. I cannot remember the last thing we got that was so exciting! I’d say this makes for a good December. And playing on the church piano is going to be absolute murder now….

Punctuated with Pictures.

2011-11-28T23:54:00.001-08:00

My weekend was something akin to insanity. Mental, slightly. Physical, absolutely.

But first, let me cover thanksgiving. Since we don’t celebrate until Friday, I went to a friend’s house on the actual day, which was great. My family had a much smaller one than usual, since the half of my cousins that usually come were over in Eastern Washington.

But Rachel was here with her family…

And of course, we had to walk to the park afterward. Some kind of activity to work off all those calories is good, I suppose.

And on the way home, we played some walking-frisbee… and took some more pictures!

And after thanksgiving came and went, I found myself going Christmas tree hunting.

Originally, I had no clue what all was involved. Vague thoughts of snow and hiking swirled around in my brain, and those were indeed correct. However, in my mind’s eye, I had no vision of what was truly going to go on…..

The setting: Waaaaay up Forest Service Road 74, amidst quite a bit of snow. The characters: A few Smiths, several Larsons, and one befuddled Edwards. To prevent misrepresenting my level of prepared-ness, let me explain… I was quite careful to do some logistical reconnaissance on this mission beforehand. People were questioned closely about what I should bring, what all would happen, etc. Therefore, I was well armed with all kinds of wool and polypropylene layers to go under all the other layers upon layers, and thanks to some military friends, had some pretty decent stuff.

But let me warn you. If in the future, someone hands you a pair of boots with a smile, and says “Here, these are waterproof! Just pop on some wool socks, and you’ll be set!” Don’t believe it. Chances are that, like me, halfway through the day you will find yourself tromping up a hill, amazed that despite being overheated from exertion, you still can’t feel your little toe. The hypochondriac in me begins to wonder, “How long does it take for frostbite to set in?” Then the logical part of me intervenes with, “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not actually that cold up here. Your nose is fine, and that means your toes are fine.” Note that this still doesn’t stop me from cautiously querying about it, then feeling like an idiot as soon as the words leave my mouth. (this is a common occurrence, by the way.)

Getting up to where the actual trees were turned out to be quite complex. It involved…..

Getting stuck several times. Then getting dug out. Rinse, Repeat. It’s not scary, as long as you trust your driver. It’s merely time consuming. But surprisingly, fishtailing on a snowy road can be fun. Nonetheless, I was glad to be in the passengers seat or backseat, and not responsible for the wheel…

Once we landed at the first spot, I was slightly agog at the amount of snow I had to trudge through. And I do not use the word “Trudge” lightly. Let me give you a true description. Carefully I take a step. Happy to find that I am still upright, I let my weight shift a bit. Wham. That’s when one leg goes plummeting into the two and half feet of snow. Finding myself standing crooked and in well over my knees, I sigh, think of how wet my feet are getting, and try to step halfway out of the hole I’ve created. BAM. I fall on my face. Reset—This time I have my feet further apart in a convoluted attempt at weight distribution. “If I lean forward at the right angle while I step…” Smack. Back down into the snow. By now I’ve made it a whole ten feet!

That’s when I look up from my snowy mess that I’ve sunk down into, only to find myself facing a pair of these:

Snowshoes, planted lightly on the snow, not sunk in much at all. It was as if they were mocking me…. If only I’d had some…. Next year.

Anyway. A tree was successfully found, and brought back down. Not by me, but nonetheless, my mother will have a Christmas tree to decorate this year.

I’ll perhaps add more details later.

2011-11-14T13:40:00.001-08:00

In my mind, there was a lovely plan of sitting in front of a fire with a pot of tea, blogging something beautiful. The trouble is, I am quite out of tea, and there are no logs stockpiled by the kitchen door like usual. I know, the words “You are pathetic” are going through your head right now. It just might be true….. While I do realize that I could tromp out into the backyard, wrapped in one of the guys’ plaid flannel quilted shirts with extra long sleeves (to protect from spiders), and bring in wood from the woodpile, I have good reasons for hesitating. Last year, I was fearless. I pulled on gloves, chopped kindling, and brought in lots of wood. I hesitate now because the spiders have begun to take vengeance on me. I think I got bit last night, and thus have no intention of baiting them further and increasing my availability to their habitat. Therefore, having eaten a large and quite good breakfast (though I do say so myself… ;) ), I intend on ~~stealing~~ *cough* borrowing some of my brother’s tea, and settling for turning on the heat instead of enjoying a cozy fire. With my current mood, this post was either going to turn out very dark, introspective, and deep, or be a light inane chattery one. Today I am settling for the latter. Consider carefully before you proceed, lest the result of reading be a strange lightheaded feeling.

I’ve gotten to a terrible place of breaking my own rules. Normally, I would never go over to someone’s house in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Nor would I ever set foot in a store or coffee place while wearing sweatpants or workout clothes. And no, it’s not because I don’t know how to relax. It’s just that I generally do my relaxing at home. By myself. I am not the sort to be comfortable enough in most people’s homes to don comfy clothes. Generally I reserve that for my home sweet home. Sadly, I can’t live up to my precedents. Me and my anemic, low iron, low energy self (yes, I’ve been forgetting to take all my lovely pills.) have been wandering into people’s homes, borrowing pajama pants, and crashing on couches without so much as a by-your-leave. Good heavens.

I also thought I would never put chai spice into a mocha. That one has been broken about a dozen times now…. It turned out to be quite good, despite the shocked and wary looks the barista at Starbucks gave me. They have no tolerance for brilliance and creativity, apparently. Nor did I plan on making my coffee without putting vanilla or some such flavor in it. And yet, multiple times I’ve used only sugar and milk. What is my latte-mocha-frappuccino world coming to? The day I drink black coffee and actually like it will be a dark one, that will hopefully never come. I am too close for comfort already. This must stop….

One of my worst social confessions of last week? I turned on the country radio station. Heavens to betsy. I never do that. If by some freak of radio waves, I happen to catch a twangy note or two, I immediately exclaim aloud, and turn the station posthaste. But this time, I actually did it on purpose. If you know me well, you understand what an earth-shaking thing that is to do. Lest you think me too far fallen, let me assure you—I did not linger for more than twenty seconds. It was like stepping to the edge of a cliff, peering over and pondering jumping. Then, with a sudden return to sanity, being snatched away from the edge and brought back to safety.

This week I am resolved. I’ll be taking my pills, drinking my coffee, staying hydrated, and keeping it all together.

I should be going—I have a game night to plan, some Owen to read, piano lessons to teach, a dishwasher to load, laundry to put away, piano to practice, a caramel party to arrange, and an apple pie to make. I’ll save my deeper musings for another day. (or just throw them away).

I’d just like to remind you that it’s not Christmas yet.

2011-11-10T21:26:00.001-08:00

There’s really no way to describe it. It’s one of those enigmas that may remain unexplained for an entire lifetime—perhaps even longer. Creeping up on you slowly, it then startles you with its awful strains, and if you’re the easily captured sort, it snatches you from gloom and showers you with a combination of grimacing, smiling, laughing, and cringing. If you are strong, you’ll make it through three, maybe even four minutes. I can’t make it that long. And that’s why, when my parents came home on Monday, and snuck a cd into the player, turning it up to high volume, I couldn’t decide whether to run or burst out laughing. First I heard Christmas-like bells jingling, then a voice. Sounds like a promising beginning…. Except that the voice belonged to Bruce Springsteen, and the song was “Santa Clause is coming to town.” If you have never listened to it, now is the time to do it. It is definitely four minutes of cultural education that you will never get back. But until you hear it, you’ll never understand. It’s so obnoxiously dreadful, so horrifically off-key, so severely gritty, that it almost is worth listening to, merely because it is so bad as to become entertaining. I think its appeal is sentimental for me, for there can really be no other explanation. But I’m afraid that the sentimentality can only get me through the first two minutes. Oddly enough, at the time they got home, I had been having a rather bad day, and had in fact written a depressing blog post just before they arrived. (Which will remain unpublished.) Yet something about Springsteen’s off key, skewed rhythm, and christmassy sound pulled me out of it. In the face of so much musical discord and destruction, all you can do is burst out laughing. Then, sixty seconds later, say “Wait, are you serious? We’re going to hear the whole song?”

Thus begins this season’s Christmas music. I know, I know-- I have posted before about how much I abhor the tendency of listening to Christmas music BEFORE Thanksgiving, and I still hold to that. Sometimes, with admirable effort, I can restrain the tide of jingling bells, snowy themes, chestnuts and stockings, red noses, and frosted evergreen trees from hitting our home until after the third Thursday in November, but this year I am clearly fighting for a lost cause. Two more new Christmas collections from Costco have been tossed into the mélange of bright cheery tunes that we already have, and I’m afraid they are about to become the bane of my existence.

Just tell me one thing. Am I the last person left who LOVES Christmas music, but only in it’s season? Is there anyone else out there who understands that the glories of Christmas music are best saved for AFTER thanksgiving?

Answers/Accusations/Proclamations of shock would all be appreciated.

2011-11-07T23:03:00.001-08:00

Some timely words from Spurgeon…

“Our heavenly Father sends us frequent troubles to try our faith. If our faith be worth anything, it will stand the test. Gilt is afraid of fire, but gold is not: the paste gem dreads to be touched by the diamond, but the true jewel fears no test. It is a poor faith which can only trust God when friends are true, the body full of health, and the business profitable; but that is true faith which holds by the Lord’s faithfulness when friends are gone, when the body is sick, when spirits are depressed, and the light of our Father’s countenance is hidden. A faith which can say, in the direst trouble, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,” is heaven-born faith. The Lord afflicts His servants to glorify Himself, He is greatly glorified in the graces of His people, which are His own handiwork. When “tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope,” the Lord is honoured by these growing virtues. We should never know the music of the harp if the strings were left untouched; nor enjoy the juice of the grape if it were not trodden in the winepress; nor discover the sweet perfume of cinnamon if it were not pressed and beaten; nor feel the warmth of fire if the coals were not utterly consumed. The wisdom and power of the great Workman are discovered by the trials through which His vessels of mercy are permitted to pass. Present afflictions tend also to heighten future joy. There must be shades in the picture to bring out the beauty of the lights. Could we be so supremely blessed in heaven, if we had not known the curse of sin and the sorrow of earth? Will not peace be sweeter after conflict, and rest more welcome after toil? Will not the recollection of past sufferings enhance the bliss of the glorified? There are many other comfortable answers to the question with which we opened our brief meditation, let us must upon it all day long.”

-- Morning and Evening, morning October 7

2011-11-04T23:21:00.001-07:00

It’s one of those days. Those horrible end-of-the-week-haven’t-gotten-enough-sleep days. I’m sure you know the feeling—You run into one last hurdle, and it just seems to be too much to jump over. You think of all the things that have happened throughout the week that you didn’t cry over, and are just about ready to burst into tears. Well, at least I am.

This week for me? An odd conglomeration of strange happenings, social awkwardness and moments of random stupidity (on my part, that is…), and just enough sour notes to throw it all into uproar. The strange thing is, I had a ton of fun at various times throughout, and so in some respects it was a great week.

Strange happening number 1: A crisp fall walk turning into a fascinating encounter with a man of questionable sobriety. Also an annoying reminder that no matter how small the town, there will always be someone to provide creepiness.

Number 2: A giant spider attempting to take refuge under my purse and jacket on Halloween. Thankfully, it was killed by a brave soul with more fortitude than I have in the face of such trauma…. But I recovered quickly.

Number 3: (perhaps this one isn’t too abnormal, now that I think about it) One simple question leading to an hour long discussion/lecture about dispensationalist views, covenant theology, eschatology (a-millennialism, pre-millennialism, post-millennialism, pre-trib rapture) schofield, Grudem, and MacArthur, hermeneutics, the danger of eisegesis rather than exegesis, soteriology and other things.

Number 4: Reversing into a parking spot to get a chair out of an office building may seem like an easy thing for most people, and it usually is for me as well. But this time, I backed into the rather tall concrete barrier instead. Turtle wax concealed some of the damage….

Social awkwardness moments: Too many to number, but we’ll throw out one or two of the best. Just visualize me, not thinking, running on caffeine, and slightly brain dead, making thoughtless comments that may or may not be bringing up the most controversial subjects possible. Yes, welcome to my life.

1: Buying something in QFC, thinking to myself “If I don’t have enough cash, I’ll just write out a check,” then, while facing the poor boy at the cash register, realizing that I don’t have any checks left. Enter frantic digging through my purse, a line piling up behind me, and a red-faced Em finally coming up with the perfect amount of change. I don’t turn red often, but I could feel it this time.

2. Informing the Owner of The Car about aforementioned damage. Wait, it wasn’t me who mentioned it…. It was my mother. “Honey, by the way, Em backed into something and gouged the back of the van.” To which I indignantly respond, “I thought we weren’t going to mention that until I could buff out some of the scratches! And it wasn’t that big!” At which time said Owner interjects with “So what happened? Did somebody hit you? And what kind of damage are we talking?” After explaining that words like “Gouge, crash, destroy, and crunch” are highly overstating the situation, I state that it’s merely a small scratch, and he needn’t even bother coming to look at it… Then race to the back and grab the wax and a rag to do as much paint cleaning as possible. Afraid that I can’t do much about, well, the rest of it.

3. Casually mentioning to The Papa about aforementioned drunk/crazy man. Facial expressions were quite impossible to describe.

Sour notes:

1. Literally. Sour notes. The B-flat on my piano has gone out, and therefore playing Rachmaninov’s “Elegy”, has become much less satisfying. Normally it’s the perfect soundtrack to any little tragedy, but the effect is highly lessened when every tenth note in the bass clef is silent.

2. Sore. Working out might be good for you, but I might drop dead one of these days from it.

3. Normal life stresses. They always add up at the same time! And that is why we have punching bags….

Despite all of the above, I have to say that I am thankful for friends who seem to be able to handle me in spite of all my foibles. Getting a text from someone saying that we just need to get together, is wonderful, especially when we can nail down a for sure time. Catching up with a cousin and going Swedish Meatball searching makes a day much nicer. Suggestions from other friends for an overnight getaway for five of us are like a breath of fresh air…. Autumn walks with a brother make a normal Wednesday evening into a Quite Pleasant Evening. And somehow I still get invited to fantastic comfortable gatherings that lend themselves perfectly to spiced cider, popcorn, doughnuts, card games, and grand company. The Lord provides what you need exactly when you need it! Put that way, this week is weighing in more on the “Half-full” (make that a triple grande caramel macchiato half full!) side.

The miniature updates. That is: updates on adventures that are boiled down to mere paragraphs.

2011-10-04T23:13:00.001-07:00

At the end of last summer, I was nearly eaten alive by bees. Yellow Jackets. Well, that might be the slightest exaggeration. (A necessary one, though, so you can best understand the peril I was potentially facing.) I woke one afternoon from a nap, which was an unusual circumstance in and of itself. (not the fact that I awoke—I generally try to awaken after sleeping—but the fact that I took a nap in the first place. However, since that has no bearing on the present story, it may be forgotten) The strange part was a funky little noise (a bit like crinkling paper) coming from the vicinity of my outer wall, right where the two meet, since my room is on the corner of the house. After coming fully awake and out of my befuddled state, I stuck my ear firmly against said wall, and heard buzzing. That’s right. BUZZING. Buzzing and hundreds of crawling little feet, the memory of which still causes shivers to run down my spine. Giving a preliminary shriek, I jumped away from the wall and looked fearfully around, expecting the drywall or ceiling to come down at any moment, swarming with Angry Bees. Further investigation revealed that They were coming dangerously close to my abode by entering through a tiny hole outside where the roof eaves met. Well might you imagine the horror that assailed me upon ascertaining this. Without further ado, we purchased several cans of unhealthy chemicals that supposedly prove fatal to the little beasts. As it turns out, the most effective way to use the stuff was to shoot them directly. Thankfully, this provided plenty of entertainment for some in our household… At my top level of skill, I was able to shoot them right out of the air, a satisfying accomplishment to say the least.

It was bees then. Now, it’s spiders. I have sometimes wondered if all the spiders in our yard will someday come against me in an act of vengeance for the dozens I have slaughtered. Some strange insect-ish act of justice? Envision this: I am sitting peacefully, enjoying writing on my compter, and occasionally arranging playlists for music. The only light shining into the room is from the computer screen. I glance over, and what do my tired eyes behold? An arachnid leg creeping over the belt on one of my dresses. It was followed by the biggest spider I have ever seen inside. Horrid. Gargantuan. Awful. It was practically Shelob. Spiders do not bring out my courageous moments. In fact, they may put me in the most cowardly light of any situation. If I hear a disturbance out back, or a scratching at my window, my reaction is not to scream or pass out or anything like that. Typically I would probably turn out the lights, arm myself, and investigate. If I get exceedingly nervous, I’ll get someone else to check it out. My reaction to oversized spiders is nothing like this. While suppressing the urge to shriek and scream bloody murder, I stumble away from it, trying not to startle it. After all, if I do that, it might very well run away to where I couldn’t see it. Or worse, run toward me. If that happens, I do shriek. And jump higher than you would believe possible. As soon as I can reach a door or window, I holler loudly for rescue. Any brother in the vicinity, or papa, will hopefully come to my aid. (although if it’s papa, much less sarcasm accompanies the slaying of the spider.) The last time I saw a large spider in my room before I was about to go to bed, my hands were shaking for half an hour afterward.

This spider, though, was on top of my hanger by the time my heroic father appeared. A first attempt merely frightened him out of sight—and that fact alone nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. (Okay, that might be slightly dramatic. But it definitely did get me to glance around nervously and begin startling at shadows on the wall) Enter: Em, the exterminator extraordinaire. Perhaps that’s an overstatement. For when the little beast reappeared, it was the Papa who came and squashed him with his bare hands. The exterminator extraordinaire made her contribution by bombing the room. Bug bombing, that is. That very night, I slept in the guest room while a magical tiny can killed (what I presume to be dozens) of spiders, insects, and who knows what else. The next day I vaccuumed everything, courtesy of my overreaction. The sense of satisfaction was overwhelming.

Thus ends this insect portion of my adventures.

And if you are brave enough to continue to the rest, let me assure you that there is nothing left to creep you out and cause you to jump at shadows in your peripheral vision.

4 AM is a miserable time to get up. I can’t believe it at the moment, but the other morning that’s what I did. Out of bed at 4, and picked up at 5. The reason for this madness? A strange thing called the REI garage sale. As of this moment, I take back (or rescind, or retract: whichever you prefer) my little stab in one of my previous blogs at people who buy tennishoes there. I’ve done it now. Merrell Gortex hiking shoes, marked originally at $110.00. Got them for $30.00!!!! I think it was worth the aching exhaustion that permeated the rest of my day.

That place (which I had never been in before) maintains a culture of it’s own. Arriving at around 6 put us at the end of the line of tents and sleeping bags. After one member of our brave party busted out a Coleman stove, those of us huddled under blankets and jackets got cocoa and scones. Spoiled? Absolutely. The longer we sat, the more fascinating became the observation of other fearless patrons. One was SO fearless that he wore no shoes, no shampoo, and certainly no qualms about wearing shorts despite the cold. What he WAS wearing included dreadlocks, a tattooed shin, a columbia sportswear shirt, and probably a pocket full of all natural organic granola. Man, I wish I was that cool.. . . . .

I’m always surprised at how outgoing people are in public places. When I see a stranger, in general, I must admit that I am not the friendly “come say hello to me and we will become friends because I am just SO happy to meet new people” sort. I am more the “If you MUST make eye contact, I will give you a slight smile, or a nice nod” kind of girl. And most certainly, I am NOT the “Let’s strike up a conversation outside REI at 6 am” character. However, there are apparently many people like that. Dauntlessly arising at that hour turns me into an anti-social, grimacing, frowning, squinting, frazzle-haired, glassy eyed girl who needs nothing more than a hot drink and a blanket. If I’m among friends, chances are I’m enjoying myself (because there’s no way I would risk getting up at 4 a.m. for the possibility of NOT having fun), and I might be able to hold a barely normal conversation. With them. Not with strangers. Do I object to strangers talking to me? No, not really. Do I moderately enjoy a vague camaraderie with strangers? Sometimes, if I can set my suspicious serial-killer-behind-every-door mentality aside. Will I respond coherently at that hour? Absolutely not. That being the case, when a friendly, if slightly brusque, gentleman began randomly interjecting into conversations (or updating us on his latest text message), the most I could mangle out was a smile, and a “Oh yeah! Mm hmm. Yup! For sure.” I tried hard to make the smile extra friendly to make up for the lack of cognizant speech. We ran into one or two people like this. The others, though, were much more bent on elbowing me out of the way so they could get to their eco-friendly biking waterbottle, their Patagonian socks, instant hot water boilers, Katadyn portable purifiers, Vibrams, Bivy sacks, solar powered chargers, Clif Bars, and of course, their North Face jackets. Yes, I had a woman push me, then turn to ask if I’d seen any on sale North Face jackets. To be honest, I had no clue what I was getting into at the start. Nonetheless, I enjoyed it, and I loved that I got a good deal out of it, and had a good time with friends simultaneously. Triple score!

After REI, Cabelas required a visit. Another amazing place. I believe it was my uncle who first said that “It’s like the zoo, but the animals aren’t moving much!” At REI, there is a large clientele who wants to be one with nature, blend in with it, and enjoy it. At Cabela’s, the clientele are more the sort to be out in nature in camouflage, and shoot anything that moves in the landscape before them. “Rocky, I think I saw something move. Shoot it!”

While I was standing in the gun library at Cabela’s, the differences in clientele were driven home. Envision this: A portly, elderly gentleman standing near me motioned towards a gun and looked to his friend, to say “Huh, yeah, that 1861 Colt Navy revolver? I got one at home.” This was followed by a large, loud sniff, and the noisy chewing of something unidentifiable. A few minutes later, a loud HONK comes through the air. Lo and behold, they were having a duck calling contest there that day. That’s what it was like; a short, vivid cultural experience that I would gladly repeat.

Yes, just a bit different from REI.

There were one or two other things I thought to mention, but the lateness of the hour prevents my brain from remembering them. Hopefully the next post will be an excerpt from someone, so I can even out these strange, poorly narrated adventures, with some good edifying material. Spurgeon, perhaps?

A couple more shots…. (the picture kind, not the coffee kind.)

2011-10-04T21:28:00.001-07:00

These aren’t artsy—they’re simply a depiction of the weekend. The fabulous weekend. And none of them are edited, for which I apologize.

The worst kinds of transitions…

2011-08-20T20:39:00.001-07:00

Here’s a scenario for you. Person A says to Person B: “Hey, you should come hiking with me some time!” Person B smiles, ducks their head, and modestly responds, “Oh, I would love to, but really, I am so out of shape!” then gives a cute little self-deprecating giggle. When the time to hike comes, Person B dons their hiking boots (which they of course purchased at the REI garage sale), their designer sweatpants, and sportily carries along a Nalgene waterbottle. Then, to the astonishment of (self-proclaimed “in-shape”) Person A, who fully expected them to be hiking at a slow and laborious rate, Person B goes trotting up the side of a mountain, smiling, talking, and barely getting out of breath. Person A is astonished that they didn’t even have to adjust their normal rapid pace to accommodate Person B.
I am not Person B.
Meet Person C, who didn’t make their way into the previous scenario. Person C hears about hiking, and thinks to herself, “Oh, wow, I would LOVE to do that, as long as there is a view at the top.” Person C vaguely wonders what it would be like to be in shape. She then gets invited by Person A to go hiking, on an “easy hike”, and says, “Oh, I would love to, but really, I am SOOOOO out of shape!” However, since Person C is a trooper, she decides to give this getting-in-shape thing a try. After all, how hard can it be? Surely your muscles can keep working as long as you can breathe. When the time to hike comes, Person C digs around to find her old broken down tennishoes, any available pair of sweatpants, and, if she’s lucky, some socks that won’t slip down into the shoes halfway through the hike. Person A is thrilled to get Person C to come, and firmly believes that Person C can’t be as out of shape as she claims.
I am Person C.
Yes, that was me you saw, falling up the side of a mountain the other day. Why yes, I was the one leaning against the car for more than fifteen minutes after all the other intrepid hikers had energetically pulled away. That girl who was gasping as if it were her last breath, only two minutes into the hike? Me. That chick who barely pushed out monosyllabic answers in between ragged steps? Me.
And yes, it was me who stopped everyone halfway through, gasping out enthusiastically “Look at this VIEW!” Then, after everyone stopped, realized that there is no view from here; there were only thick forests surrounding us. I shrugged, and said, “Well, it’s all so green and pretty,” and stalled long enough to barely catch a breath. After my heart stopped beating in my eardrums, I closed my eyes tightly and started to take another painful step.
If you wondered why I didn’t start stretching immediately afterward, it’s because it was all I could do to merely stay upright. And you know how I wasn’t making eye contact with you? It wasn’t because I hate you for dragging me up the mountain at an unhealthy speed, it’s because my ears are buzzing and my sight is getting fuzzy so I can’t even really see your eyes. I didn’t answer your question, because all I know is that you were talking; it was physically impossible for me to focus on actual words, let alone comprehend a full sentence. Your joke was hilarious, and you thought I only gave a courtesy laugh and grimace… In reality, that weird sounding laugh was genuine, and the grimace was the closest I could come to a beautiful smile. You may have glanced down the trail and thought I was glaring daggers at your back, but really… Oh wait. I was. Getting caught up in agony and gasping and a pounding heart and aching muscles was just enough to lead me to indulge in a moment of anger. Anyone ahead of me on the trail is usually the focus of that irrational ire, especially if they have the gall to be both “in shape” and cheerful.
But actually, I did enjoy the hike. Well, I liked taking a cool shower later, anyway. And I enjoyed the company… for a few cognizant moments. In all seriousness, though, I DO want to do it again. If you are ever one of the unfortunate people who I finagle into hiking with me, you should know that while you are hiking competently, I will be stumbling up the trail behind you, wondering what you would do if I just fell over the edge and didn’t get up again. If you ask me to go hiking, on an easy hike, I might hem and haw. The cause of this? I am severely embarrassed by my lack of athletic prowess, and sincerely regret the inconvenience that experienced hikers are put to when I come along. Those two things are the sole causes of my hesitation.
If you have ever been where I am right now (i.e., very much out of shape), you understand everything I wrote perfectly, and have sympathy for me. You understand all my sentiments, and know what it’s like to struggle towards a goal at the top of a mountain. If not, and you are one of those paragons of atheticism that I so resent, then you are astonished at all these paragraphs of absolute gibberish, and are thinking “What? Hiking is FUN! Going up a steep trail is GREAT! Running down the mountain afterward makes me feel like the picture on an REI ad!” Hopefully, you are somewhere in between, and have both a deep appreciation for the transitional pain I’m going through, and the triumph I may someday achieve.
I am excited at the idea of getting in shape— it remains to be seen if I enjoy the reality. Someday, you will get on my blog and see a post called “The joys to be found in the outdoors,” (or some such ridiculous title) and it will be full of oozing happiness at the latest hike I went on. Hopefully I survive to see that day...

2011-07-27T14:11:00.001-07:00

This from Richard Baxter, via Voices From the Past, via Richard Rushing. :)
I thought this was, well, FABULOUS.

“For whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.” Romans 14:23

Whenever you feel the least motion toward disobedience, meet it with an army of holy graces—zeal, courage, and love to God. Quench every spark that falls upon your hearts before it breaks into flame. When sin is little and weak, it can be easily resisted. When temptation grows strong, grace grows weak and we lack the sense of God’s presence, attributes, and truths to rebuke it. O, do not drift out of the range of God’s voice, straying beyond His call. The habit of obedience will be dangerously abated, if you do not resist quickly the acts of sin. Labour for a clear understanding of God’s will that you will not delay in your obedience through doubt. If you doubt whether sin is sin, this weakens your resolve so that you are willing to draw near to it. When a man is sure of his duty, it is a great help against all temptations. When he is sure a thing is sinful, it is easier to resist. It is the devil’s method to delude the understanding, and make men believe that duty is no duty, and sin is no sin. It is no wonder that duties are neglected and sin is committed. It is almost incredible how much ground the devil takes when he has once made sin a matter of controversy: some are of one mind, and some of another; you are of one opinion and I am of another. If it were ever a controversy whether drunkenness, sexual promiscuity, swearing, stealing, or any villainy were a sin or not, it would be committed more commonly and with much less regret of conscience. By this means, good men themselves are dangerously disabled to resist sin, and are more prepared to commit it. take heed lest the devil cast you into this sleep of carnal security. When you are in a careless sleep, obedience seems a tiresome thing; like a tired horse, you don’t feel the spur. You are half-conquered, and have lost your love for obedience and are in danger to yield at last.

And there you have it.

Hitting the books…

2011-07-07T22:25:00.001-07:00

I admit it. When I think “I’m going to sit down and read something edifying tonight"… J.I. Packer isn’t what comes to my mind. He’s a good guy, and has written good stuff, but there are other issues there… However, I recently started reading John Owen’s “The Death of Death in the Death of Christ,” and of course it would be insupportable to skip the introductory essay by Packer. After beginning it, I think I could say that it is one of the finest explanations of Calvinism that I have heard in a few concise paragraphs. (And it’s a good thing he is concise—for I am not!) I’m not going to quote his explanation of the five points of Calvinism, or the historical background he gives, but rather an introductory paragraph, and then his broader picture of Calvinism that I really liked.
“There is no doubt that Evangelicalism today is in a state of perplexity and unsettlement. In such matters as the practice of evangelism, the teaching of holiness, the building up of local church life, the pastor’s dealing with souls and the exercise of discipline, there is evidence of widespread dissatisfaction with things as they are and of equally widespread uncertainty as to the road ahead. … If we go to the root of the matter, we shall find that these perplexities are all ultimately due to our having lost our grip on the biblical gospel…..{and so they have begun to preach a newer gospel} the new gospel conspicuously fails to produce deep reverence, deep repentance, deep humility, a spirit of worship, a concern for the church. Why? We would suggest that the reason lies in its own character and content. It fails to make men God-centred in their thoughts and God-fearing in their hearts because this is not primarily what it is trying to do…. whereas the chief aim of the old (gospel) was to teach men to worship God, the concern of the new seems limited to making them feel better. The subject of the old gospel was God and His ways with men; the subject of the new is man and the help God gives him… The whole perspective and emphasis of gospel preaching has changed…. Accordingly, the themes of man’s natural inability to believe, of God’s free election being the ultimate cause of salvation, and of Christ dying specifically for his sheep, are not preached. These doctrines, it would be said, are not “helpful”; they would drive sinners to despair, by suggesting to them that it is not in their own power to be saved through Christ…. The result of these omissions is that part of the biblical gospel is now preached as if it were the whole of that gospel; and a half-truth masquerading as the whole truth becomes a complete untruth.”
Then he presents this, on Calvinism, after explaining the five points. (TULIP)
“In the first place, Calvinism is something much broader than the “five points” indicate. Calvinism is a whole world-view, stemming from a clear vision of God as the whole world’s Maker and King. Calvinism is the consistent endeavour to acknowledge the Creator as the Lord, working all things after the counsel of His will. Calvinism is a theocentric way of thinking about all life under the direction and control of God’s own Word. Calvinism, in other words, is the theology of the Bible viewed from the perspective of the Bible—the God-centred outlook which sees the Creator as the source, and means, and end, of everything that is, both in nature and in grace. Calvinism is thus theism (belief in God as the ground of all things), Religion (dependence on God as the giver of all things), and evangelicalism (trust in God through Christ for all things), all in their purest and most highly developed form. And Calvinism is a unified philosophy of history which sees the whole diversity of processes and events that take place in God’s world as no more, and no less, than the outworking of His great preordained plan for His creatures and His church. The five points assert no more than that God is sovereign in saving the individual, but Calvinism, as such, is concerned with the much broader assertion that He is sovereign everywhere.”
And that concludes my stint from Packer. However, I of course must add something more. I am quite thankful for a father that comes in and says “Wanna read me something good?” To which I reply “I’d love to—what did you have in mind?” And Spurgeon was the pick of the night. As to what particular choice-- his sermon preached on July 5, 1857, in the music hall of the Surrey Gardens. (it’s out of Volumes III-IV of the New Park Street Pulpit series). I thought this excerpt particularly good, and moving. The text was “And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me.” – John xii, 32. The excerpt is in the context of his first point, which is that “Christ’s crucifixion was His glory.”
“Now, the cross of Christ is Christ’s glory. We will show you how. Man seeks to win his glory by the slaughter of others—Christ by the slaughter of himself: men seek to get crowns of gold—he sought a crown of thorns: men think that glory lieth in being exalted over others—Christ thought that his glory did lie in becoming “a worm and no man,” a scoff and reproach amongst all that beheld Him. He stooped when He conquered; and He counted that the glory lay as much in the stooping as in the conquest…..And once again, Christ looked upon his crucifixion with the eye of firm faith as the hour of triumph. His disciples thought that the cross would be a degradation; Christ looked through the outward and visible, and beheld the spiritual. “The cross,” said He, “the gibbet of my doom may seem to be cursed with ignominy, and the world shall stand round and hiss at the crucified; my name be forever dishonored as one who died upon the tree; and cavillers and scoffers may forever throw this in the teeth of my friends that I died with the malefactor; but I look not at the cross as you do. I know its ignominy, but I despise the shame—I am prepared to endure it all. I look up on the cross as a gate of triumph, as the portal of victory. Oh, shall I tell you what I shall behold upon the cross? Just when mine eye is swimming with the last tear, and when my heart is palpitating with its last pang; just when my body is rent with its last thrill of anguish, then mine eye shall see the head of the dragon broken, it shall see hell’s towers dismantled and its castle fallen. Mine eye shall see my seed eternally saved, I shall behold the ransomed coming from their prison houses. In that last moment of my doom, when my mouth is preparing for its last cry of “it is finished!;’ I shall behold the year of my redeemed come, I shall shout my triumph in the delivery of all my beloved! Ay, and I shall see then, the world, mine own earth conquered, and usurpers all disthroned, and I shall behold in vision the glories of the latter days, when I shall sit upon the throne of my father David and judge the earth, attended with the pomp of angels and the shouts of my beloved!” Yes, Christ saw in his cross the victories of it, and therefore did he pant and long for it as being the place of victory and the means of conquest. “I,” said Jesus, “if I be lifted up, if I be exalted;” he puts his crucifixion as being His glory.”
There you have it.

Life of late… In photos.

2011-06-30T00:38:00.001-07:00

This happened! Engaged March 12, and Jacob and Liz got married on June 18. Rache and I were in the wedding…

And I took their engagement pictures… :)

And we saw a lot of THIS waterfall lately… Plan to go again on Sunday.

Ate lots of THESE… Mom was experimenting w/ frosting flavors. Irish cream!

Did a little bit of reading… as did the guys…

Went on a vacation—Here are just a few from that.

Took a few drives…

And took a night shot or two.

Finally, of course we spent plenty of time with the kiddos..

And that makes for a pretty good few months, in my opinion.
Now you know the rest of the story.

2011-06-20T14:36:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago my aunt died. At the time no deep observations struck me; only the usual immediate feelings assailed me, and still are. After a few days, though, and lots of thinking combined with emotion, several things have been heavy on my heart, but they can all be summed up with one phrase: We will all meet God.
My aunt was only 67. My grandparents are both well into their 80’s, so that seems like quite a young age to pass away at. The young age brought me to some more thoughts. I think most people tend to presume that they will be able to put off important things. “I don’t need to be disciplined about that now; I can do that when I’m a little older.” The cold hard fact is, though, that no one knows the day or the hour in which their soul will be required of them. In that moment, there is no place for procrastination. You can put off the dealings of your soul for no longer. There is no time to say “Wait, Lord, let me do this first,” or “I was going to START reading my Bible,” or “Give me time to deal with this sin.” Your account must be settled before you are kneeling before His throne. In that moment, there is no more chance for mercy. During those seconds, you must stand before the Almighty God and be held accountable for what you did or did not do during the fleeting moments you had on earth. God does not call us to a lackadaisical approach to Christianity. He does not ask us to only show up at church on Sunday, and live our lives as the world does, with only a tip of the hat to holiness. He does not call us to a cultural Christianity, where we can claim the name of “Christian” yet live with no devotion to Christ. This last Sunday, the pastor (filling in for my dad) mentioned that in our culture people tend to view God as some kind of band-aid to patch up all their problems. You feel like something’s wrong, so you approach Christ as a temporary fix. That is not the Biblical view of Christ.
At the funeral, I was mourning for my aunt. Also, I was mourning for the loss of an era—that of my grandparents. This last week has brought back a multitude of memories that were made with my papa’s parents. My grandma died ten years ago, along with another of my aunts. Since that time, family gatherings with the Edwards side of the family became few and far between. Standing in my Aunt’s house created a sense of déjà vu. I hadn’t been there in probably ten years or so, and it was a strange reminiscent feeling. I expected it to be as it used to be. Needless to say, it was not. I think, that for many people, loss is a distant concept. It has been for me at times in the past. Then, one day, it becomes something that is there, close, and seeming not very real. But for a few moments at least, you are forced to face loss, think about it, and deal with it. It fades, but will always there in the background.
I mourn because my papa lost another of his sisters, and now he and his last sister are all that remains of my grandparents family. But also I mourn because I was so rarely bold about the gospel. We don’t expect that our relatives will be suddenly taken, and when they are, it occurs to you that you have often been reticent in the sharing of the Word with them. My dad did a phenomenal job at the funeral. First he did a short biography of my aunt, and after that he did something much more important—Gave a clear, forceful presentation of the gospel. He pointed out that we are all sinners, that we have a warning in this life, and no more chances in the next. After that he explained what you do about it. Everyone in that room heard the most important things they will ever hear. The Word was spoken, and won’t return void.

There is a song by This Hope that I heard again recently, and it seemed quite fitting.
Someday soon, there’s going to be a great reunion by the sea,
I’ll see my Jesus, cross the water, spread His arms to carry me.
I’m going home, to be with Jesus; I’m going home to see my Lord.
Don’t you worry, don’t you cry. I’m going home now, to the other side.
Someday soon, He’ll read my name, and call me home where there’s no pain,
Nor more crying, and no more sorrow; land where milk and honey flow.
I’m going home to be with Jesus, I’m going home to see my Lord.
Don’t you worry, don’t you cry; I’m going home now to the other side.

2011-03-10T21:55:00.001-08:00

Alright. I am gearing up and planning. Some important things, like planning piano lesson stuff, and some less important things… such as formulating a list of books I want or need to read. I should be practicing the piano, but my fingers haven’t been working lately, as evidenced by my destruction of offertory two weeks ago.
Two factors are stopping this from being a long blog. First of all, I just worked out, and think I pulled a muscle…. Or several muscles. Therefore, I am quite tired. The second thing is the fact that I heard a sermon this week on pride, and he brought out how elements of technology such as facebook and blogs do nothing but provide a platform for pride and self glorification. After that, I can’t write one of my weird narratives.
So I give you this. It’s what I needed to hear tonight as well.

His grace is enough for me.
In my weakness, His power is made complete.
When I find my strength is gone, He’s the rock I rest upon.
His grace is enough for me.
… So when trials overwhelm me, and I cannot carry on,
I know that when I’m weak, then He is strong.
His grace is enough for me.

A good reminder…

2011-02-22T15:14:00.001-08:00

Put to death therefore what is earthly in you. (Colossians 3:5)
Do you mortify? Do you make it your daily work? Do not take a day off from this work; always be killing sin or it will be killing you. We must strike it as an enemy until it ceases living. Sin is labouring to bring forth the deeds of the flesh. When sin lets us alone, we may let sin alone. Sin is active when it seems to be the most quiet, and its waters are often deep when they are calm. Sin is always acting, conceiving, seducing, and tempting. There is not a day but sin foils or is foiled. There is no safety but in a constant warfare from sin’s perplexing rebellion. Sin will not only be striving, acting, rebelling, troubling, and disquieting if not continually mortified, it will also bring forth great, cursed, scandalous, and soul-destroying sins (Gal. 5:19-20). When sin rises to tempt, it always seeks to express itself in the extreme. Every unclean thought would be adultery if it could; every covetous desire would be oppression; and every thought of unbelief would be atheism. It is like the grave that is never satisfied. Sin’s advance blinds the soul from seeing its drift from God. The soul becomes indifferent to sin as it continues to grow. The growth of sin has no boundaries but the utter denial of God and opposition to Him. Sin proceeds higher by degrees; it hardens the heart as it advances. Mortification withers the root and strikes at the head of sin every hour. The best saints in the world are in danger of a fall if found negligent in this important duty. Negligence of this duty decays the inner man instead of renewing him. It is our duty to be ‘bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God’ (2 Cor. 7:1), and every day to be growing in grace (I Pet. 2:2), and seeking to be renewed in the inner nature day by day (2 Cor. 4:16).
--- John Owen, Works, VI:9-14

This and That, Hither and Yon

2011-02-16T21:01:00.001-08:00

How long does a blog retirement last, exactly? Is a week or two sufficient to call it a break? We’ll say yes for now, and if I retire it again, I’ll be sure to legitimize it by waiting at least a month before posting. I had sincerely hoped that I would have the remnants of a past blog to help me get going, but the words “No drafts” quashed that dream quickly. Recently all my creativity (and believe me, the stores are easily depleted) has been channeled into either my book or journal. That’s right—my book. I write, all the time. It’s not good, or even interesting, and is relegated to the dusty shelf where I keep my poetry notebook. My plan is to burn all those things (or delete them from the computer, in some cases) within the next few years, lest I die suddenly and the embarrassing results of my fanciful (and moderately dramatic) mind are open to the world. I would hate to “sport with your intelligence” (to quote Ms. Austen) by sharing them. To clarify, though, my book flows much more smoothly than any blog post ever did. If one cannot be random and choppy in a blog, then where on earth can they? (besides in everyday conversation, in which I manage randomness quite well.) After all, the internet is the breeding ground for the decimation of grammatical rules and spelling, not to mention literary correctness.
Owning the entire encyclopaedia brittannica (macropaedia AND micropaedia) has come in handy for once. (not that they don’t often come in handy, but this time it was more practical). If I can’t sleep, I find something rather mundane to read. Of course, reaching for the encyclopaedia turned out to be not boring at all. Next time I’ll use a phonebook. The result of Monday night’s caffeine-induced insomnia is a remarkable amount of information about Finnish architecture. That’s right, Alvar Aalto was a scandinavian architect who apparently “made the leap from rational-functional to irrational-organic.” His work was world-renowned, and characterized by flat roofs, ribbon windows, and plenty of balconies and terraces. You see how much you can learn about architecture from one article? Poor man’s wife died in ‘49, but he remarried in ‘52… I’ll bet his two daughters were just thrilled with that move. Yes, I realize how ridiculous it is that I am reciting facts from an encyclopaedia, of all things. I’ll stop now.
Often I claim that my brain is either fried, or not fully functioning, generally because I’m overly tired. As it turns out, though, all those times (mostly in the last two months) have absolutely nothing on the last two days. Being sick brings me to a lack of clarity that I never experienced before, which makes me afraid that my brain not working quite right is the rule, not the exception. Yesterday (the first day I woke up feeling Not Quite The Thing) I decided to either do nothing that I had planned, or go ahead and plow through all of it. Besides, if I must do the unpleasant things, despite how I feel, then I am going to do the fun things as well. It was a looong day, and I feel quite bad for anyone who I held conversations with… I was much less coherent than normal, and possibly even rude. I’m too tired to really remember. Today I am paying the price for not submitting to sicknesses demands of yesterday. I’ve alternated between unrestful (yes, i’m making that word up) sleep which provides dreams so vivid that when I wake up, I can’t tell if they were real or not, and a state of half-wakefulness emphasized by a pounding headache, a horribly stuffy nose, an unspeakably painful throat, achiness, and slightly blurred and unfocused eyesight. Needless to say, I’m exhausted. And I think I know who I have to blame. He is about three feet tall, and I distinctly remember letting him drink out of my Starbucks cold cup this weekend. Silly me, I couldn’t say no, when he was so fascinated by the red and white striped straw. Either that, or a sweet little moppet who blew her nose on me. Three times. She thought it was cute…
Nonetheless, I forced myself to muster up the energy in between naps to tidy my room up. If I am going to be miserable and feel that I am at death’s door, then I am at least going to do it in an immaculate room. The reward of the temporary effort is huge. Lovely instrumental music, (alternating between Swing’s Greatest Hits, Directors Cut movie themes, and random symphonies) two or three candles, and a pot of very hot white vanilla grapefruit tea are the only things motivating me to write. I should be practicing the piano, but that takes too much effort. Every time I begin to think that I have energy, simply standing up reminds me that it’s futile. At least I can be tired in a nice atmosphere.
I love my quiet little domain, but even the satisfaction of a clean, candlelit room cannot keep the desire to travel at bay.The longing for a road trip has come over me again. It usually does this time of year, when it’s been too long since our last vacation. I want to walk the rolling hills of scotland again, but there doesn’t seem to be a high probability of that happening, so I’d be perfectly happy to settle for driving the “going to the sun” highway. Isn’t that the Glacier National Park one? Well, either that or Highway 1 in California. Technically Hannah and I have a cross country road trip planned, but that won’t happen until 2013, and I simply cannot last that long. What I’ve been doing is looking at pictures, hoping that would temporarily satisfy any desire to go, but all that’s doing is making me want to go out RIGHT NOW and buy the Nikon D90 that has been calling my name for a year now. As fun as being (mostly) unemployed is, it has a few practical disadvantages. Currently, the camera and the kindle are the two biggest getting to me. Good thing I have a couple hundred hard copies of books to keep me busy until I buy the kindle. Oh… and the two thousand plus books in papa’s office. Perhaps I shouldn’t be complaining, after all.
And specifically for Aunt Sandie—Over the last year, every time I complained on facebook about any sort of physical ailment or something that sounds thyroid related, you told me to get it checked out…. Well, I did. I temporarily overcame my IMMENSE dislike of doctors, hospitals, and all things medical just long enough to try out Rachel’s naturopath. Amazing woman. Overlooking the fact that my arm is still bruised from blood drawn a week ago, I’m quite happy with what she told me. Something about deficiencies in the vitamins D and B, cortisol and iron levels. Is it strange that I’m thrilled to find out that something is wrong with me? It’s quite cheering to find out that things will be going up from here. Oh, and here’s a technical detail for you—apparently the thyroid was 1.25, which is normal and okay. Now I can pull the whole “My doctor recommends…” in a sniffly, reedy, british accent. (I’ve been watching too much Jeeves and Wooster lately.)
Well, that’s really all I’ve got for now. I promise that my next post will have something more spiritually-oriented in it. I’ll look for a good excerpt to put up. Have a phenomenal day.

I really don’t… recommend… this.. one…

2011-01-30T20:08:00.001-08:00

Hmph. I’m in a strange, exhausted mood, which would imply that it’s unwise for me to blog. However, I’m just exhausted enough to ignore my inner urgings not to post. I thought about deleting my blog, since very few people read it anymore, but for that same reason, I feel I can post whatever sounds good at the moment. And yes, chances are that I’ll delete it later.
For the record, I shouldn’t be taken seriously, because I haven’t slept well in weeks. The last week was worse than most, and when I exist on no solid sleep, my brain turns to mush, my energy is sapped, and I appear generally furious with the world. I’m not; it just looks that way, on account of me having one of those faces that looks snobby if I’m not being ridiculously smiley.
My brain is also rather fuzzy, with plenty of unclear thoughts floating around. I am hoping that getting them out on paper (or in this case “the screen”) will clear the cobwebs enough to make room for a little energy. If that is successful, I plan to do dishes, tidy up my room, then go work out with the punching bag… Meghann and Wes bought me hand wraps for my birthday. Yay for unbruised and not bleeding knuckles. Of course, with the way I’m feeling at the moment, simply getting the room part of that done will be a near-miracle.
Here it comes… the rash of observations that are both unnecessary, and likely untrue. Also a few questions, simply because a contemplative mood has grasped me.
1. Is there a time when you can look back on months in which you were going through hard times without flinching? Or, in my case, speeding through those remembrances, those journal entries, those blog posts, those songs. I think the fear of pain crashing back in keeps me speeding.
2. Marshmallow fondant is the new…well… fondant. I used my birthday as an excuse to make some. And eat LOTS.
3. Birthdays really are much better when you stretch them across as wide a span as possible. This year I managed four whole days. Triumph!
4. Are there any new good music artists out there? Please, shoot them my direction.
5. This post has stretched on much further than it should have, therefore, I’m ending it abruptly, and ungracefully. Au revoir.

2011-01-21T17:56:00.001-08:00

Well, well, well. Here we come to another week. I must admit, the thought of posting to my blog leaves me feeling rather drained. But then, so does the thought of… moving… or working out… or anything that requires more than a minimal amount of energy. For some reason, lately sleep has NOT been my friend. It could be the result of several years of simply terrible sleep patterns, but I really prefer not to delve too much into that theory.
I woke up this morning, and my first thought was, “What do I have to do today? What? Nothing? Really?” Enter: Big Smile and Happy Plans. This week has been busier than normal, or maybe I just accomplished more than normal. Monday: Rachel’s house. Tuesday: Early-ish Morning coffee, piano stuff, shopping interlude, book stuff, friends and frozen yoghurt. Wednesday: All day long party. Issaquah, Snoqualmie Falls, Closet-fixing, movies, driving and loud music. Thursday: Getting Things Done. Dinner with people. Excellent. Today was simply a day of “whatever I wants” after getting the important stuff done. Rather nice and leisurely. Now I’m settled with a lovely VENTI!!!!!!! (thank you starbucks for acknowledging my existence and birthday) caramel macchiato, and think it should round out the evening quite nicely, especially when followed by an hour or so of piano. The immaculate vanilla candle scented room waiting for me adds yet another aspect of cheerfulness. (Another thing we won’t explore is my previous stupidity with said jar candle. Suffice it to say it burned all night… we won’t say where, lest it expose me to unnecessary ridicule.) And, since I’m feeling cheerful on this cloudy day, I have to put up a poem that I once had memorized but has since escaped me. Thank goodness for google. (and Longfellow)
---------------------------------------------
The Rainy Day
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882)

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

2011-01-12T13:29:00.001-08:00

I lied. I couldn’t stay away for two whole weeks this time. Two whole months away from facebook, I could manage. But to actually plan to take two weeks away from my blog is simply, well, unheard of and unlikely.
Typically when I’m chronically enjoying something, I have to share it with the world, so that they can of course try it out as well. It’d be simply awful to keep all that happiness to myself, and of course if I like something, then it would only follow that everyone else would… right? Well, perhaps not. But it’s a happy idea at least.
Anyhow…. What’s on my mind is books and devotionals. And music. And tea. (the former are taking up much more space than the latter, I can assure you.)
I recently started a book called Heroes, by Iain Murray. I got it from my papa for Christmas. (I have a book list that I constantly update. Currently it’s stuck to my bulletin board with a geronimo dart thing, so it’s the most prominent display if he ever is looking for it. {not that I have a birthday coming up or anything……….} ) Pardon me for the digression. It’s comprised of several biography-esque small sections. That is, instead of writing all about George Whitefield’s life, it takes a predominating theme and expands on it. For example: “George Whitefield and Christian Unity” addresses largely Whitefield’s effect on the Great Awakening and the church in promoting true catholicity. Apparently Whitefield did quite a bit to help reconcile varying denominations to each other’s existence. Obviously not totally, but much more than they were before. It actually reminds me of the motto for FIRE (fellowship of independent reformed evangelicals), which is “In essentials, unity; In nonessentials, liberty; in all things, charity.” That being said, I’m currently working through “Jonathan Edwards: The Man and the Legacy.” It helps to have a full biographical background already in mind, so I’m enjoying this one a bit more than Whitefield, to be honest. Next up: John Newton: ‘A Wonder to Myself’. I highly recommend it.
The other is one I’ve been touting to, well, pretty much everyone I meet. I apologize if I already mentioned it here. Right Thinking in a World Gone Wrong, by John MacArthur. So far, it’s been dousing me with oodles of conviction. Therefore, I’m taking it in small doses. (Not because I shy away from being convicted about more than one thing at a time; rather, because it gives me more time to think, consider, and dwell on one issue at a time. My poor brain can’t handle much more than that.) This one may make my top ten of 2010 book list. (do i have to finish it in 2010 to count it on that list??)
The third and final recommendation comes in the form of an excerpt. You’re already familiar with the book, as I use it all the time here. Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening. I loved this particular one, because the other night it was exactly what I needed to hear to get my mind and heart on track, and be focusing on a glorious truth that sometimes is overlooked. It was encouraging, and brought my thoughts to where they needed to be—On Christ, and dwelling with Him, rather than on myself and the temporal earth, the things that pass away.

Evening, January 10.
“In my flesh shall I see God.” – Job 19:26
Mark the subject of Job’s devout anticipation-- “I shall see God.” He does not say, “I shall see the saints”—though doubtless that will be untold felicity – but, “I shall see God.” It is not -- “I shall see the pearly gates, I shall behold the walls of jasper, I shall gaze upon the crowns of gold,” but “I shall see God.” This is the sum and substance of heaven, this is the joyful hope of all believers. It is their delight to see Him now in the ordinances by faith. They love to behold Him in communion and prayer; but there in heaven they shall have an open and unclouded vision, and thus seeing “Him as He is,” shall be made completely like Him. Likeness to God – what can we wish for more? And a sight of God—what can we desire better? Some read the passage, “Yet, I shall see God in my flesh,” and find here an allusion to Christ, as the “Word made flesh,” and that glorious beholding of Him which shall be the splendour of the latter days. Whether so or not it is certain that Christ shall be the object of our eternal vision; nor shall we ever want any joy beyond that of seeing Him. Think not that this will be a narrow sphere for the mind to dwell in. It is but one source of delight, but that source is infinite. All His attributes shall be subjects for contemplation, and as He is infinite under each aspect, there is no fear of exhaustion. His works, His gifts, His love to us, and His glory in his purposes, and in all His actions, these shall make a theme which will be ever new. The patriarch looked forward to this sight of God as a personal enjoyment. “Whom mine eye shall behold, and not another.” Take realizing views of heaven’s bliss; think what it will be to you. “THINE eyes shall see the King in His beauty.” All earthly brightness fades and darkens as we gaze upon it, but here is a brightness which can never dim, a glory which can never fade -- “I shall see God!”

I hope you have a lovely day.

2011-01-02T23:12:00.001-08:00

I do beg your pardon for the amount of time elapsed since I last blogged. I really have very little in the way of excuses, except for one: the computer didn’t work. If the word “malware” means anything to you, I hope you understand and feel my pain. After multiple friends made efforts to help extract the dratted thing, a friend of a friend finally fixed it… Not only did he clear five viruses, he also reinstalled the system to be running at full capacity—something about 64 bit rather than the previous 32 bit. Anyway. When I went to blog the other day, I was shocked to find that Live Writer was no longer installed on the laptop…. Enter gaping mouth and vacant expression, followed by many attempts to track down and reinstall the binary file. After this, of course, come the windows popping up and saying things like “First, you must install this program” and “Do you have service pack 2 installed?” Somehow or another I managed all the application juggling, and, as you see, have retrieved Live Writer and am utilizing it to the best of my ability. It is entirely out of the question to consider going back to blogging within the browser again. Much too inconvenient. Too many times, I’ve finished several shining paragraphs of monologue, only to accidentally click some button and see the words “We’re sorry, something went wrong” appear.
Anyway. I am taking a short-ish sabbatical from the internet and blogging. By “short-ish”, what I mean is “hopefully two weeks.” If you need me, please call my cell phone.
*disclaimer* the sabbatical may last longer than two weeks. If that is so, then you may safely assume that I have done one or more of the following:
1. Moved into a cabin in the woods somewhere by myself. (this is the most hopeful scenario in my opinion)
2. Deleted my blog (this is the least likely)
3. Been kidnapped by pirates and held for ransom on a lonesome island. (perhaps unlikely… but very good novel research.)
4. Run out of creativity. (that’s one of the current issues)
5. Been too busy to make time. (less likely, but still an option)
See ya in two weeks. Maybe.

In complete armour.

2010-12-15T13:18:00.001-08:00

This morning I am sitting, enjoying an early lunch (which might also classify as a late breakfast) drinking the last of Clark’s Paris (which is the last in the house… i’ll weep later) and trying to decide how many petite vanilla bean scones sixty people can consume. (making too many is better than not enough, right?) Whilst I ponder various conundrums, I’ll post a good thought or two, most of which are not my own.
Lately multiple people (i.e. my uncle and my papa and a couple friends) have brought up the fact that Christians often cease to consider their spiritual walk synonymously with a battlefield. There are most certainly days when we feel the pressure and the “call to battle”, as it were, but too often we let our awareness fall by the wayside. This passivity leads to a foothold for temptation, because sooner than we know it, we are simply sidling along, occasionally praying, and reading our Bibles even less. Unpreparedness leads to being blindsided by troubles. What would you think of the soldier who says he is going in to battle, and is dressed in only his uniform, with no guns, no methods of defense, no shields, and no backup? You would beg him to take care, to be more aware, and to take active measures to protect and defend against the enemy. You would think him a fool, and be unsurprised when he is ambushed and caught unawares. You would think him oblivious and naive, to believe that he can walk into a combat situation unprepared, and remain unscathed. The same can be said of the Christian who thinks they can live their life without being fully armed and ready at all times for anything. A lackadaisical, unguarded approach to the Christian life will always prove to be harmful in the end. No Christian can stand without being fully armed, shielded, and defended. Our weapons are stronger than any physical weapons, and equipped with prayer and surrounded by the words from scripture, we can stand.
What kind of sign is it, what kind of devotion, when we only feel a “need” for God when the devil assails us more actively? In any other relationship, this is unheard of. What friend wants to be there only when you need to be bailed out? What spouse wants to only be called on for support in the deepest darkest times, and never wanted when things are easy and pleasant? Our God is not an insurance agent, nor is He some kind of divine genie, only to be pulled out when the going is rough. He is living and near, and always needed. Be wary of the day when you don’t keep Him close to you with prayer and time in your Bible.
And, this from William Gurnall…

Secular reason sees a Christian on his knees and laughs at the feeble posture God’s child assumes as his enemies descend upon him. Only divine insight can perceive what mighty preparations are actually taking place. Yet just as an unarmed soldier cannot achieve the military exploits of a well equipped infantryman, so the carnal person cannot hope to do the exploits for God which the committed Christian can expect through prayer. Prayer is the main line that leads straight to the throne of God. By it the Christian approaches God with a humble boldness of faith, takes hold of Him, wrestles with Him, and will not let Him go until he has His blessing…. Meanwhile, the carnal person, asleep to the dangers of his sinful state, rushes headlong into battle with a foolhardy confidence that soon turns yellow when his conscience wakes up and sounds the alarm that his sins are upon him. Then, unnerved by this surprise attack, he throws down his weapon, flees from the presence of God with guilty Adam, and dares not look Him in the face.
The Christian in Complete Armour, I: 24-25

Then of course, to cap that off….

I need Thee every hour, most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like Thine can peace afford.
I need Thee every hour, stay Thou nearby;
Temptations lose their power when Thou art nigh.
I need Thee every hour, in joy or pain;
Come quickly and abide, or life is in vain.
I need Thee every hour; teach me Thy will;
And Thy rich promises in me fulfill.
I need Thee every hour, most Holy One;
O make me Thine indeed, Thou blessèd Son.

Most of the people I know, and probably all of those who read my blog, have already read this, since my second excerpt is out of Voices From The Past. Nonetheless, I am sharing it because I found it helpful this morning. Hopefully you do as well. If not helpful, then at least convicting.

Satan always seeks to usurp our territory. By yielding in one temptation, we let the devil into our trench and give him a fair advantage to do us more mischief. An angry man, while he is raging and raving, thinks he will only say so much, but alas while his fury and wrath are rallying, the devil finding the door open, enters and hurries him farther than he ever dreamt of. The best way is to never give him a foothold. Never venture near the door where sin dwells, lest you are dragged in. If you do not wish to be burned, don’t walk upon the coals of temptation. Do not think that you can yield to Satan in one thing and make believe that you will not yield in another. You cannot sit with drunkards and pretend you will not become one. You cannot lend your eyes to unchaste objects and yet be chaste. These are strong delusions. If a man does not have the power to resist the devil in small temptations, what ground does he have that he can in great ones? When a captain directs his soldiers to fight in their ranks, he bids them to stand. Military discipline allows no one to stir from their place without special warrant. every Christian needs to stand where God has placed him. The devil’s method is first to rout and then ruin. We must stay with our own duty and conscientiously attend to it so God will bring us safely to our journey’s end. Paul charged Timothy to give himself wholly to the discharge of his duty. The power of godliness lies in this. It is a contradiction to profess to know God but in your works to deny him. this can never be reconciled. He that is not a Christian in his shop is not a Christian in his closet, and is a hypocrite at church. Wound religion in one part and it is felt in every part. Stand firm!
William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour, I:278-280

And there you have it. Thanks for putting up with my rambling and excessive quoting… I’m impressed it you made it this far.

2010-12-14T17:25:00.001-08:00

It’s abominable, really. I have been shockingly remiss in posting on my poor neglected blog. The thing is, while normally a lack of creativity doesn’t stop me from posting, recently it’s been quite a major deterrent. On occasion, not only is there an atrocious lack of brain power, there’s also a feeling of “empty". I think, “What can I possibly say that would be interesting?”, then I realize that the absence of interesting material has never previously stopped me from throwing things on to my blog without concern for reader or computer. Ergo my current attempt.
If you were one of the people praying for me to get a piano student, thank you. It appears that I will be starting a girl in our church soon. I’m ridiculously excited, to say the least. Now, however, I find myself assailed with doubts and fears. After all, what if I’m not a good teacher? Not everyone has the knack for it, and I can’t say that I envy the poor little children whose lives I could potentially destroy…. Anyhow, I’m happy for the opportunity.
This weekend was quite busy. We catered on Thursday night, then went to the Covenant Christmas Concert. Always nice to hang out with friends. :) After that my mother’s renowned hospitality was extended once again, this time as hostess to a shower welcoming Kari’s sweet baby boy. I still say that my sister being his Godmother makes him my Godnephew, despite assertions to the contrary. Anyway, it was good to meet Caleb Christopher, yet another example of God’s miraculous work in lives around us. It was thrilling to watch the chain of events with the adoption unfold through the last few months. The close of the shower led to throngs of relatives joining the house. Well, ok, perhaps not throngs… just three. Uncle Rich, Aunt Di, and Bekah. And of course four Finks were at our house this weekend as well. Made for a lovely loud time, especially when joined by David and Steffany and their semi-new bundle of joy. Sunday afternoon was a conglomeration of wonderful things. More family (i.e. grandma, grandfather, aunt shell, whitney, dustin, jonathan), friends (i.e. jacob) (although the separation of the two categories is not to imply a mutual exclusivity. I firmly believe that though you can’t choose your family, they often end up in the friend category too), three giant pots of soup, two bundt cakes (one of which is currently screaming my name) and obviously plenty of tea.
Alright. I admit it. While I am not exactly an introvert, I still find myself rather taken aback when total strangers approach and eke out all kinds of information. Such was the case this Sunday, in the midst of our third starbucks trip of the weekend. A [very] friendly man struck up a conversation with some of us, which ended up lasting quite some time. Though not directly involved with this dialogue, I would’ve been failing in my multitasking skills to not listen to nearly every word. While highly respectful of the propensity of coffeeshops to, as it were, “bring people together,” I will admit that multiple times I wanted to lean over to Clark and whisper obscure things like “Don’t tell him anything! He’s probably a foreign spy.” “Look, now he knows where we live and where you work! When he becomes a creepy stalker you’ll regret this!” “Think of your niece and nephew! He’s slowly leaking information out of you about all of us…” The poor man. I’m sure he was just a normal person looking for friends or a group to hang out with, yet in my overly suspicious, occasionally paranoid, and often sceptical mind, he became an information seeking serial killer, on the lookout for his next victim in an innocent family gathering. Even as I realize the improbability of this, I still staunchly maintain that You Can’t Be Too Careful. It’s this same mantra that keeps me from opening the door when the sketchy steak selling man with the big van comes door to door. Or why I let the boy in the Comcast vest stand ringing the doorbell for five minutes, even though I was in his direct line of sight. Perhaps he believed I was deaf? This same, possibly faulty, mentality also stops me from holding the lively conversations with mormons, unless someone else is present, ready to defend when the “burglar within” makes his appearance. After all, it could be someone nefarious simply pretending to be Elder Matthews. Caution, always caution. (I would prefer to ignore that particular mantra when discussing my propensity to go jogging when it’s dark out… I already see the problems existing in that scenario. I just choose to do occasional stupid things. Also, dignity trumps safety at times.)
Already I am running slightly late, and am supposed to be reading from my Bible study book, and making tea to go. Therefore, I leave you with my few disjointed paragraphs and apologize for my scatterbrained manner this evening.

Technorati Tags: Adventures,Starbucks

2010-11-23T21:16:00.001-08:00

I admit it…. 46 hours ago, I woke up (a feat in and of itself) and upon discovering that the sore throat had come and fully grasped me, I dropped back into bed, pulled the covers up, and started listing reasons I’d be justified in skipping church. After forcing myself to arise and open my curtains, I glared angrily at the light lacing of snow, annoyed at it’s inadequacy when the weather website had promised me six whole inches. “Accuweather… never looking at your site again!” I grumbled to no one in particular. No cd brought about a change in my cynicism. Not even the voices of three thousand people singing Come Thou Fount at the T4G conference improved my mood remotely… most likely because I wasn’t really focusing on the words.
After being disgruntled about the lack of snow, I went about my day mostly like normal. Then it started snowing… and snowing… Now it’s still snowing hard, windy, and I most definitely got my promised six inches. Last night I curled up with a very big hot coffee, a heavy comfortable blanket, and sat and simply watched the snow fall. Either that, or I slept in front of the fire while wishing I could see both at once. I couldn’t have picked a better time to be so sick. I love watching the wind blow the snow around, and measuring the inches on the roadway. What I do not love is having family members out driving in it… Makes me nervous. At the moment, there are at least eight inches of snow up on the deck, where it has accumulated without wind interference. Now, for the apologetic sentence—I started writing this particular post yesterday, but didn’t end up finishing it. Therefore, some disjointedness may occur. Hopefully that is a plausible explanation for all errors, grammatical and chronological.
Today, or rather this morning, mom and clark and i went on a walk that inevitably ended in starbucks. I must admit that was the driving force behind getting me out of bed…. However, I was quite thrilled with the sun and sparkling snow that we encountered along the way. So far, I’m assuming that the cold wasn’t a further detriment to my recovery from a rather nasty cold that I’ve been fighting. The accusations of those who would falsely name me a hypochondriac now must fall by the wayside… A slight temperature validated my claims of invalidity. I’m not sure if that phrase is grammatically correct—I sincerely doubt it.
Originally I had a grand blog all planned out in my head. I was ready to have a creative narrative, followed by slightly less-creative pictures. However, what I end up with is very few pictures, because I haven’t ventured out into the cold long enough to really get any good ones. I was all ready to hit the streets yesterday morning with my camera in hand, but an ill-timed Verizon Wireless bill interrupted that. By the time I recovered from the bill, the only thing that sounded appealing was a hot shower. Since a four day headache is still lingering, I’m afraid that my creativity was killed and is having trouble recovering. Lest I leave you with only a few boring paragraphs, please allow me to share a few not-artsy pictures with you. A few snapshots are all I have. Perhaps next time I get online, and in a blogging mood, I will be found to have an endless well of miraculous creativity, with which to astound you. But until that moment, don’t hold your breath…..

2010-11-17T15:58:00.001-08:00

I am not attempting creativity. Nor am I endeavoring to provide entertainment. Neither of those have ever been my forte, so I am relinquishing all efforts to produce either. (And yes, I do recognize the grammatical and semantic problems in that sentence, but I have no intention of fixing it) This is one of my inordinately boring posts, in which I ramble, and as a rule make very little sense. Since this has been my consistent pattern, I simply can’t break from it.
I have just been introduced to the glories of google reader, and have quite mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I love how convenient it is. All the people I want to follow, right there at my fingertips. No extra typing, or anything… simply a click away. On the other hand, I hate that I am missing the beautiful blog templates, designs, and music that go with the blogs. They are gone on google reader’s format. It’s quite sad. Therefore, I am inspired to redo my blog, and that is what I am doing after I finish writing this one. I fully plan on revamping my music playlist with all kinds of wonderful rainy day songs. Yes, I realize that it might not be raining when I finish, but since it is Washington, the chances of it raining again soon, and thus re-validating my playlist, are very good.
Feet up, hair down, tea steeping, rain pouring, talking to friends…. I like this day. A lot.
I have something on my mind that will, doubtless, create enemies for me. Two words: Christmas music. Interesting thing about it, it’s supposed to be played at Christmas. Odd, I know. So then, the question remains… Why on EARTH must everyone play and sing it weeks before thanksgiving?? No, friends, I am not a hater, nor a scroogette… (Yes, I had someone call me that yesterday. It’s FALSE!) I love listening to Christmas music, for days and days…. at CHRISTMAS. I am simply an advocate of keeping Christmas music special, and reserved for December. In fact, I fully intend on Christmas-ifying my blog on December 1. Hmm, which, I think is rachel’s birthday. Good thing I remembered… now I need to buy her a present.
However, despite my feelings about premature Christmas music, I can see that the joy of the holidays is on the way. In fact, one aspect of those joys just came in the mail… the Harney and Sons Christmas catalogue. Having been idly perusing it for the last hour (if poring over and reading every word can be considered ‘perusing’) I have come to the conclusion that bankruptcy will soon overtake me. And even worse, I’m looking forward to it. What better way to go, than to be thrilled to send my money to people who will send me brightly colored, creatively designed packages of liquid goodness and Christmas presents in return?
Speaking of bankruptcy… Last weekend found me tromping around ikea, along with the dear sweet niece and nephew, my favorite sister, my favorite sister-in-law, and my favorite sister-in-law’s sister. To put it simply, Rachel, Meghann, and Holly. Several Hoeglunds made an appearance as well, and I ended up spending much more money than I planned. Thank goodness for checkbooks. Friday night, we had a ‘girls evening’ of sorts. As you know, a girls evening absolutely must include chocolate chip mint ice cream, vanilla ice cream, and three varieties of sparkling cider, as well as copious amounts of peanut butter M+M’s. Needless to say, I did some serious working out on Saturday. Which of course, since I desperately need new boxing gloves, meant that my hands were sore and messed up on Sunday, and I destroyed my piano music. Lesson learned? Don’t work out, it’s not worth it.
Have a lovely evening, boys and girls. I mean, ladies and, and wots-its. (My deepest apologies if the Jeeves and Wooster reference is lost on you)

2010-11-15T22:16:00.001-08:00

Tonight my creativity is lacking. A sore throat, bad headache, and general achiness have me consuming copious amounts of water, in an attempt to stave off the dreaded sickness. However, I am still encouraged by Richard Sibbes, so I am sharing his words with you.

“Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.” – II Corinthians 1:9
God’s providence extends to the smallest things, to the sparrow and to the hairs of our heads. He governs every particular passage in our lives. This should teach us to look up to heaven for permission, power, and perseverance in all the affairs of life. We should not do anything in which we cannot expect God’s guidance, and this, so we can trust Him for a blessing upon all that we do. One way or the other, God will provide for His children. If we could live by faith as we should, we would not worry about anything, for God has promised liberally to provide for us, and if we could believe, He will not be less than His Word. He does suffer His children to lack a few outward things, but it is always for their good. God always gives us patience to suffer and to wait for the time of His deliverance. God often allows his children to come to great extremities and desperate estates, yea, even to the jaws of death itself, as Hezekiah, Job, Jonah, David, Daniel and the three children. He allowed His disciples to be overwhelmed with water before He took notice of it. the Father suffered his only Son upon the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When it comes to pass that all natural and ordinary means fail, we must look to a more durable and constant help—God’s own good will and power. When we have experienced His helping hand, we are able to rely more confidently upon Him in all adversities. His power is seen in man’s weakness. God is never nearer than in our extremities. He allows these to test us that He might exercise His grace in us. We should not be dismayed, though we find ourselves in the most forlorn estate. Every man’s life is a struggle, but in our extremities our graces are strengthened.
Richard Sibbes, Works, v: 35-42
Voices from the Past, 15 November

2010-11-11T00:58:00.001-08:00

My groove has come back and snatched me! Either that or I am back to being stuck in a rut…. But who is concerned with pedantic obscurities anyway? I am in an oddly happy content mood, which, if I were to be honest, may be called caffeine-induced. Today is a conglomeration of random facts, so please bear with me…
Fact 1: Starbucks Salted Caramel Mocha is wonderful. I have had three in the last two days, and highly recommend it to anyone who dares. At first it’s a bit odd to the taste, because of the dash of salt… However, I am convinced that if you try it (and you must try more than one sip) you will be as hooked as I am. Even the smell of it makes me happy. On a side note, my jury is still out on this year’s starbucks Christmas cup. I am convinced that it is hard to beat the one I have pictured here… --------------------------->>>>>

Fact 2: Job chapter 38 is excellent. A group I meet with is going through a book called Questioning Evangelism, and the latest chapter mentioned that particular section of scripture. I am slightly ashamed to say that I waited until about 1/2 an hour ago to actually read it. Dozens of God’s mighty acts are brought up, and if you read it slowly and think about it, it’s quite powerful. It’s a series of questions addressed to Job, meant to display God’s omnipotence.

25 “Who has cleft a channel for the torrents of rain
and a way for the thunderbolt,
26 to bring rain on a land where no man is,
on the desert in which there is no man,
27 to satisfy the waste and desolate land,
and to make the ground sprout with grass?

34 “Can you lift up your voice to the clouds,
that a flood of waters may cover you?
35 Can you send forth lightnings, that they may go
and say to you, ‘Here we are’?
36 Who has put wisdom in the inward parts
or given understanding to the mind?

Fact 3: I would be greatly indebted to anyone who knows how to get my pictures off my phone and on to my computer…..

Fact 4: Skype is fantastic. There is something fun about having a two year old say “Me see you emi!!” through a screen… then ask you to help him open his fruit snack. Through the computer.

Fact 5: I am once again looking for a job. While yes, I do love not having one, I also need money. And a vehicle. And insurance. I would also appreciate prayer for a job that, naively, I would enjoy. In the minds of millions of americans, the word “job” conjures up images of drudgery and daily frustrations that come home with you. With stars in my eyes, I look to my future and vainly believe that I can find a job I enjoy. Ridiculous of me perhaps, but prayer would be appreciate nonetheless.

Fact 6: I started this particular blog a week ago. Shame is my companion as I post it this late, but I will nonetheless. I would have liked to add more, but as my reader base has significantly dwindled, almost as much as my creativity, I’ll post it now and hope for the best.

Have a lovely Wednesday, friends. Actually I’m not sure if today is Wednesday. If not, then enjoy whatever day you read this on.

Warning: Pumpkins, Babies, and Adventures ahead.

2010-10-28T16:59:00.001-07:00

All I have is photos, no words this time. Pardon me for not editing them, beyond cropping here or there.

2010-10-28T15:59:00.001-07:00

Today I am enjoying the stormy weather and being thankful that God is in control. If today was July 6, that’s what Spurgeon was thinking about too.
Morning, July 6.
“Whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil.” –Proverbs 1:33

Divine love is rendered conspicuous when it shines in the midst of judgments. Fair is that lone star which smiles through the rifts of the thunder clouds; bright is the oasis which blooms in the wilderness of sand; so fair and so bright is love in the midst of wrath. When the Israelites provoked the Most High by their continued idolatry, He punished them by withholding both dew and rain, so that their land was visited by a sore famine; but while He did this, He took care that His own chosen ones should be secure. If all other brooks are dry, yet shall there be one reserved for Elijah; and when that fails, God shall still preserve for him a place of sustenance; nay, not only so, the Lord had not simply one “Elijah,” but He had a remnant according to the election of grace, who were hidden by fifties in a cave, and though the whole land was subject to famine, yet these fifties in the cave were fed, and fed from Ahab’s table too by his faithful, God fearing steward, Obadiah. Let us from this draw the inference, that come what may, God’s people are safe. Let convulsions shake the solid earth, let the skies themselves be rent in twain, yet amid the wreck of worlds the believer shall be as secure as in the calmest hour of rest. If God will not save His people under heaven, He will save them in heaven. If the world becomes too hot to hold them, then heaven shall be the place of their reception and their safety. Be ye then confident, when ye hear of wars, and rumours of wars. Let no agitation distress you, but be quiet from fear of evil. Whatsoever cometh upon the earth, you, beneath the broad wings of Jehovah, shall be secure. Stay yourself upon His promise; rest in His faithfulness, and bid defiance to the blackest future, for there is nothing in it direful for you. Your sole concern should be to show forth to the world the blessedness of hearkening to the voice of wisdom.

There you have it.

2010-10-20T16:01:00.001-07:00

I got a call from my papa yesterday… He was standing at the grave of Jonathan Edwards at the time. Previous blog posts reveal me to be rather enamored of the entire Edwards family, so, as seems fitting, here is a bit of Edwards for your day. Lest you believe that I am neglecting Spurgeon, fear not—He may make an appearance tomorrow.

Be directed to sacrifice everything to your soul’s eternal interest. Let seeking this be so much your bent, and what you are so resolved in, that you will make everything give place to it. Let nothing stand before your resolution of seeking the kingdom of God. Whatever it be that you used to look upon as a convenience, or comfort, or ease, or thing desirable on any account, if it stands in the way of this great concern, let it be dismissed without hesitation; and if it be of that nature that it is likely always to be a hindrance, then wholly have done with it, and never entertain any expectation from it more…. Whatever it be that stands in the way of your most advantageously seeking salvation… offer up all such things together, as it were, in one sacrifice, to the interest of your soul… The rich young man was considerably concerned for salvation; and accordingly was a very strict liver in many things: but when Christ came to direct him to go and sell all that he had, and give to the poor, and come and follow him, he could not find in his heart to comply with it, but went away sorrowful. He had great possessions, and set his heart much on his estate, and could not bear to part with it. It may be, if Christ had directed him only to give away a considerable part of his estate, he would have done it; yea, perhaps, if he had bid him part with half of it, he would have complied with it: but when he directed him to throw up all, he could not grapple with such a proposal. Herein the straightness of the gate very much consists; and it is on this account that so many seek to enter in, and are not able. There are many that have a great mind to salvation, and spend great part of their time in wishing they had it, but they will not comply with the necessary means.

Well, I was convicted.

Entirely unrelated and irrelevant--- some shots from the refreshments for the music symposium thing at Faith. I was told to put them up somewhere, and since facebook is temporarily no longer an option…. Yes, my mother did put tables on top of tables, then put a wannabe miniature grand piano on top of that. It’s called thinking on a grand scale. No pun intended.

Lemon bar things, white chocolate dipped brownies, fudge mint brownie dealios, miniature cupcakes, chocolate dipped strawberries and cream puffs, almond thumbprint cookies, and a couple other things.

This is the angle they saw as they came out of the concert.

beverage table

Chocolate treble clefs top off miniature cupcakes on the main table; chocolate dipped strawberries and creampuffs lining the sides of the beverage table.

2010-10-11T17:57:00.001-07:00

I can now be characterized by redundancy and inconsistency. Well may you think “So, what has changed? Why are you writing about something we already know?” My unoriginal, clichéd answer to this: “Because that’s who I am.” Marvelous, isn’t it?
I got knocked out of my blogging groove (Or rather, got unstuck from the rut) for a few months, but as of this moment, am back with a vengeance. If my reader-ship drops off slightly in the next five minutes, I understand and hold it against no one. Your waywardness may be forgiven on account of my randomidity. Also, the fact that I make up words when the occasion suits me. Now I am a neologist.
And now, ladies and gentlemen…..
Purpose The First: Disproving the Addiction Theory. (The coffee one, that is… not the phone one… or the facebook one)
Yes, you read that right. I have come, ready and armed, to my longsuffering computer-blogosphere-interwebcyberspace-world to stand once and for all, proclaiming to the teeming masses (bring me your poor, your weary, etc) that I am addicted to practically nothing. If you have put up with my blog for very long, then you are thinking “Ah, but I KNOW i read a post once in which you admitted addiction.” Well, yes, that is true. But since then, things have changed. I have changed, in fact, and only slightly for the better. I wish I was addicted to coffee. At least then I could faultily name it a disease, and be justified in spending copious amounts of money on overpriced liquid happiness, calling it “medication” and “necessary.” With many sad sighs, I admit to myself that I am not addicted, and thus remain unjustified. However, this doesn’t stop me from vigilantly marching myself and others down to Starbucks on a fairly regular basis.
Nonetheless, a defense is necessary, because my lattes have been taunting me lately. It’s as if every time I make one, there is a voice whispering, teasing, and trying to convince me that every macchiato or americano is simply a step into the way of addiction. I think it’s become a subliminal thing, because I have three or four people who believe I’m addicted, and have even tried to convince me that I am.
Fact: I’ve gone three days this week without coffee…. No headaches, no cravings.
Fact: I got decaf the last three times I went to Starbucks, with no ill effects. (well, mostly-- life without caffeine is like… sleep!)
Fact: I do not spend every last cent on coffee, as a true addict would do, nor do I scour the gutters searching for quarters to spend on caffeine.
Fact: If I was addicted, I wouldn’t be picky about flavor and lattes and such. I would just be drinking the strong black stuff that my papa manages to consume by the pot.
Fact: Yes, it’s true that “I love coffee, I love tea, I love the java jive and it loves me.” (line courtesy of the King Sisters, circa 1941) This does not signify addiction.
Fact: Denial does not always mean addiction.
Well, that deals with that. I am clearly not addicted. :)

Purpose The Second: Explanation for you Observant people.
Four or five of my 205 facebook friends have noticed that I am, magically, gone from facebook. (I admit that I am not thrilled with the ratio) Here lies the explanation… Yes, I did de-activate my facebook. No, I didn’t get angry and delete you as a friend. Yes, I’ll be back eventually. No, I may not be able to last until my goal-date of December 4. Yes, I will post plenty of pictures once I’m back on. I think that covers that.

At Last…

2010-10-07T17:06:00.001-07:00

Lest you be confused from the beginning, let me point out this—No, despite the title, this isn’t a blog centered around Etta James. I do love that song though…. (despite the frustrating current connotations with it and the president. Ugh)
If you know me extremely well, or talk to me fairly often, you know that I’ve been slightly, well, off lately. “Off” meaning the following: Self-absorbed, moderately depressed, un-encouraged, and in general “not as one should be”. (If you didn’t notice this, don’t feel bad…. I try very hard to keep things like that from people. It just speaks for my mad skill at concealment.) In fact, the significance of the “At Last,” is this—At last, I’m done with this sadness, this frustration that has enveloped me for the last few weeks/months. God is in control, my inheritance is in heaven, and there is nothing strong enough to stop me from rejoicing. This morning, I forced myself to spend some quality hours with my Bible, prayer, and several daily reads. Two of them were so good that I HAVE to share them here. Please read them! I love my excerpts. They save me from having to dig deep inside my brain to come up with the originality and brilliance of theological points that others have already written books on. (Not that it’s stopping me from writing my own book.)

Voices from the Past, October 7.
Our citizenship is in heaven. – Philippians 3:20
Faith enters within the veil and moves the soul out of the valleys of sense to the glories of heaven. The treasures of most men are perishing, earthly, cankered, and moth-eaten treasures. Where is yours, O Christian? Is it in this world, or the next? Is it in present vanities, or future glory? Is it in present contentments, or in an everlasting inheritance? Is it in corn and wine or in the light of God’s countenance? Is it in profits, pleasures, and honours, or in grace and glory? Do you build, plant, and sow for heaven? Many profess the hope of heaven, but meanwhile in their conversations they savour only earthly things. If a man’s profession is ever so heavenly, but he is overtaken by earthly living, that man’s religion is vain. Never talk of a name in heaven, so long as your heart is buried in the earth. If your heart is earthly, your name is in the earth. Do you live by sense or faith? Do you live upon the earthly, or upon the promises? Is it your highest cause of rejoicing that your name is written in heaven? Do you set your joy and heart upon this mercy? If you could enjoy all the outward blessings imaginable—the fairest estate, highest honours, sweetest children, and the richest pleasures—but in the midst of all these, your conscience troubles you within, you are strangers and enemies to God, you have no part in Christ or His death, and your names are not written in the book of life—O how this would cause your heart to sink before all your blessings! Earthly joys ebb and flow, blossom and wither, but heavenly joys are abiding. No man can take your joy from you. Who would not retire from the noise of a distracting world to rest his soul in the joys of the world to come? Whatever you enjoy in the world—riches, honours, pleasures, children, health, and beauty—let your joy be in God.
Matthew Mead, A Name in Heaven, pp. 44-74

And the second one--

Morning and Evening, Morning October 7.
“Wherefore hast Thou afflicted Thy servant?” -- Numbers 11:11
Our heavenly Father sends us frequent troubles to try our faith. If our faith be worth anything, it will stand the test. Gilt is afraid of fire, but gold is not: the paste gem dreads to be touched by the diamond, but the true jewel fears no test. It is a poor faith which can only trust God when friends are true, the body full of health, and the business profitable; but that is true faith which holds by the Lord’s faithfulness when friends are gone, when the body is sick, when spirits are depressed and the light of our Father’s countenance is hidden. A faith which can say, in the direst trouble, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,” is heaven-born faith. The Lord afflicts His servants to glorify Himself, for He is greatly glorified in the graces of Hi people, which are His own handiwork. When “tribulation worketh patience; and patience experience; and experience, hope,” the Lord is honoured by these growing virtues. We should never know the music of the harp if the strings were left untouched; nor enjoy the juice of the grape if it were not trodden in the winepress; nor discover the sweet perfume of cinnamon if it were not pressed and beaten; nor feel the warmth of fire if the coals were not utterly consumed. The wisdom and power of the great Workman are discovered by the trials through which His vessels of mercy are permitted to pass. Present afflictions tend also to heighten future joy. There must be shades in the picture to bring out the beauty of the heavenly lights. Could we be so supremely blessed in heaven, if we had not known the curse of sin and the sorrow of earth? Will not peace be sweeter after conflict, and rest more welcome after toil? Will not the recollection of past sufferings enhance the bliss of the glorified? There are many other comfortable answers to the question with which we opened our brief meditation, let us muse upon it all day long.
Charles Haddon Spurgeon.

I hope you were encouraged a bit by these… They did wonders for me.

….and there will be rejoicing…

2010-10-01T16:28:00.001-07:00

As a rule, I try to keep my blog less introspective. I don’t like opening my heart to everyone who peruses the internet. But there are some days when I can’t possibly keep it inside!
The Lord is good. There are some weeks, and days, when it feels that grace abounds even more than normal. He doesn’t give us what we deserve, and for that we should be thankful. When I consider what I do deserve, thankfulness overcomes me for the endless blessings in my life. To put it briefly, the last couple months have found me praying about lots of different things, problems, and decisions, with plenty of stress and trepidation. This last week was a time period when it was clear to me that through the last year and half, He was working things out and planning things that I had no clue about. I can’t say that I was completely cheerful through the whole process (or even that I was constantly trusting Him alone), but there are times that despite temporary trials and troubles, God’s apparent power and sovereignty demand tribute. Even a few small everyday occurrences have been nearly blinding with the obviousness of God’s hand working through them. Today, I stand before His throne and praise Him. I am rejoicing because He is God, and more than we can imagine. He is more holy than we will ever be, and is a righteousness that cannot be compared. His power is greater than any and all, and frightening in its wrath. He is the God of peace, who comforts the weeping, and gives grace to the humble. Our praises will never fully encompass His attributes, and yet He continually reveals them to us in scripture and daily life. That being said, I have lots to be happy about!

On an entirely unrelated note….. that leaves me with nothing but a couple pictures. Happy ones.

2010-09-22T13:42:00.001-07:00

Every day brings me a new conundrum. Without fail, I have to ask myself this question: “What devotional should I read out of?” Do I really have to force myself to choose between Spurgeon, Edwards, Voices From The Past, and Ryle? Well, if I have the time, I can read all of them. But believe me, in a time crunch, it’s a tough call. Today, however, is Spurgeon. (Charles, not Susannah, although I do enjoy reading her stuff.) It’s from the “Morning and Evening” devotional. I hope it’s encouraging to you.

Be glad of heart, O believer, but take care that thy gladness has its spring in the Lord. Thou hast much cause for gladness in thy God, for thou canst sing with David, “God, my exceeding joy.” Be glad that the Lord reigneth, that Jehovah is King! Rejoice that He sits upon the throne, and ruleth all things! Every attribute of God should become a fresh ray in the sunlight of our gladness. That He is wise should make us glad, knowing as we do our own foolishness. That He is mighty, should cause us to rejoice who tremble at our weakness. That He is everlasting, should always be a theme of joy when we know that we wither as the grass. That He is unchanging, should perpetually yield us a song, since we change every hour. That He is full of grace, that He is overflowing with it, and that this grace in covenant He has given to us; that it is ours to cleanse us, ours to keep us, ours to sanctify us, ours to perfect us, ours to bring us to glory – all this should tend to make us glad in Him. This gladness in God is as a deep river; we have only as yet touched its brink, we know a little of its clear sweet, heavenly streams, but onward the depth is greater, and the current more impetuous in its joy. The Christian feels that he may delight himself not only in what God is, but also in all that God has done in the past. The Psalms show us that God’s people in olden times were wont to think much of God’s actions, and to have a song concerning each of them. So let God’s people now rehearse the deeds of the Lord! Let them tell of His mighty acts, and “sing unto the Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously.” Nor let them ever cease to sing, for as new mercies flow to them day by day, so should their gladness in the Lord’s loving acts in providence and in grace show itself in continued thanksgiving. Be glad ye children of Zion and rejoice in the Lord your God.

2010-09-21T00:24:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow morning will find me dauntlessly arising early. It’s an occurrence I hope to make into a custom. (I’ve never managed it in the past, but the future is equal to hope, right?) I must say, I’m rather looking forward to it. There is something about walking in crisp autumn mornings that brings a decided air of optimism to my step. Of course, this being Washington, the optimism may be slightly more rainy than usual. Thankfully, I am ok with that too.
At this point, I could use a good dose of optimism. About two times a year, I find myself in a slightly blue funk, mixed with a strong desire to go on a horrendously long roadtrip. I hate to call it like it is, but I think it might be termed discontent, which is ironic, since I recently heard a rather excellent sermon on contentment. With my typical lack of originality, instead of coming up with my own zinging points of conviction to share with you all, I will simply put a link to the sermon.
http://sovgracewa.org/audio/Doug_Edwards_9.5.10.mp3
That being said, I think I will skip over the details of my latest doldrums, as I blog and listen to this sermon once again.
Autumn is on my mind. It’s the gateway to winter, which happens to be my favorite season. Autumn means sweaters are my constant companion, and that I can redundantly wear bright orange scarves. It means re-arranging the living room, so the fireplace becomes the center, rather than the ugly coffee table. No excuse is needed for long walks, and coming home to a cheerful, crackling blaze. There is something about looking in my front window, seeing people relaxing with spiced cider and books, that makes me warm and happy to be home like nothing else does. Summer and spring are wonderful, but the cold seasons create a hearth-appeal like few things can. When I was younger, it meant potential days off of school, but in the last few years, it’s meant enjoying the comfy home times with no school to dread. An added, rather major, bonus is that Fall lighting is fantastic for photography.
I hate the color yellow, but in Autumn, it’s bearable. I generally don’t prefer hot drinks that aren’t caffeinated, but in Fall, I’m willing to drink cider, with no addictive stimulant benefits involved. I don’t like wearing fuzzy socks in summer (in washington, summer isn’t equated with warmth) but in October, sweatshirts and fuzzy socks are acceptable inside. I don’t like sitting for hours at the stove, but in November, it’s worth it, because I’m making caramel. Autumn is a myriad of things. Redheads are in season in the magazines, caramel goes with popcorn, cinnamon goes with pumpkins, and starbucks makes special lattes. We can burn all the spiced ginger candles we got on sale.
Wow. Two long paragraphs of oozing optimism. Maybe we can call it “gushing.” Well, I’ve gushed long enough for this night, and probably bored you out of your mind. My enthusiasm for the season would write several pages, but the late hour (and consideration for your minds….cerebral evac isn’t particularly desirable in readers) forces me to stop where I stand.
Happy Autumn. Happy Winter.

Coffee shop intruders.

2010-06-30T10:29:00.001-07:00

I saw something the other day that sent me through a myriad of emotions and thought processes. At a Starbucks in Oregon, a person walked in front of me, and all I noticed was that they were wearing a shirt that on the back said, “On the first day, man created god.” It had Michelangelo’s painting of man’s hand reaching towards what is presumably God’s, in the background. The front of the shirt had the molecule symbol, with the words “Secular Alliance” and a web address.
This brought out a variety of reactions in me, one of which was probably not good. My first, knee-jerk response was a quick flash of defensive anger. I’m aware that there are people who think that way, but usually they don’t go posting it on their backs in a declaration to the world. The mockery it attempted to make of a Holy God, and of the things I believe in, immediately ‘got my hackles up,’ so to speak.
My second reaction was curiosity about her specifically. What had brought her to think that way, and to proclaim her beliefs, or lack thereof, to everyone she sees? Does her family think the same way, or are they perhaps grieving for her lack of belief? Does she even have family?
My third reaction was great pity and compassion. While we stood next to each other, waiting for our drinks, (which, by the way, was a long while. Don’t ever go to the Starbucks next to Fred Meyer, in Bend, Oregon. Always have slow service there.) my heart broke a little for her. What kind of life must an atheist lead? How can they sleep at night? Do they simply narcotize themselves by claiming “no” belief in God, and making valiant efforts not to think about it? And if they do, what kind of despair would that lead to? If you have no thoughts of eternity, no expectation of heaven, no joy and peace given by a gracious God, what do you live for? Where does she go when life gets hard? I cannot imagine living in that sad sort of box. A dark, silent box, in a way, where you can see nothing beyond your own troubles and despair. On earth, you may be able to stand alone and shout your heresies from the rooftops, and no one will bat an eye. But when it comes to the judgment day, you cannot stand alone to face God. You have to have been redeemed by His son’s blood. I wanted to talk to her, but I had people waiting for me. Now I’m ashamed that I didn’t say something. I wanted to ask her about her shirt, what prompted it, why she thinks that, etc, but all I could think was “They’re waiting in the car for you, and you won’t have time to really get into a good discussion.” So, then I went to plan B, which was to pull a card with a verse and a website on it out to give it to her, but of course I’d left that card in my other purse.
Then I left. I walked out of Starbucks, and she walked out behind me. She got into a car across from me, and I saw the Darwin fish on the back. You know the one, where they take the “Jesus fish” symbol, and put the word “Darwin” in it instead. (Also, usually when I see that, it makes me mad) Having not talked to her, or witnessed to her, I began to pray for her, and still am. But somehow I feel like I failed a little bit. That would’ve been a perfect opportunity, with a great opening. Yet, I walked away without saying a word. In a way, I can see why I did. Part of it was trepidation that I would say the wrong thing, but in all honestly, I mostly didn’t want to keep my parents waiting longer than necessary, and I didn’t want to start a discussion I couldn’t finish. The next time, however, I think I will just do it. Nevermind who is waiting for me, when I have the opportunity to plant a seed to get someone thinking about the Gospel.
All that aside, my very last reaction was this: Great joy that God has saved my soul! That I am not a party to the despair that pervades the lives of the unsaved! I don’t say that with a sense of superiority, thinking “Oh, so glad I’m not like HER!”, but with a sense of joy born of thankfulness. It was, in a way, a good reminder of what God has done for me. Without God’s grace extended to me, I might be wearing a shirt just like that.
Oh, on another note of people intruding on you in coffee shops…. I was having coffee with a friend, and noticed a guy hanging around for a bit too long, apparently eavesdropping. We talked about a variety of things, such as music, church, books, etc. Then, he wanders over, a bit too buoyantly, hands my friend a piece of paper, says something incoherent about Taylor Swift, and then says to me, “Do you read my blog?” I said, “I don’t know, what’s the name of your blog?” (I wanted to say something like “NO, you creep, why would you approach two young women and ask if they’d read your blog? Now back off!” However, I managed to mangle out a gracious smile. (I think. My friend may have a different opinion of what my facial expression was…) He’d written the name and web address of his blog down, as well as his name, and the phrase “The spirit of prophecy is the testimony of Jesus.” Then he said “Oh, it’s called ‘The Lost Tribes of Israel.’” He said a few other things, but he talked extremely fast, and was also not making sense. Aside from being extremely weirded out, no harm was done, and he left as quickly as he came, leaving us sitting there gaping at each other and trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Now I’m going to have to visit his blog, just to satisfy my curiosity!
Well, I’m supposed to be out working in the yard, so that must conclude this. (Can I say that? “That must conclude This?”) Well, that’s that, so no more of this. (While I’m mutilating grammar, I might as well go the whole way.)

2010-06-14T00:11:00.001-07:00

I really haven’t the faintest idea why I persist in blogging at times. I think that in some obscure way, writing something that potentially no one will read is a nice sort of outlet.
Every year, first weekend in June, a local frenzy occurs, known as the Lake Tapps Garage Sale. We all pile into the car, armed with espresso and snacks, sometimes bringing along crazy friends (and all the family) (Speaking of which, why do people always say “friends AND family”… .Does that preclude family from fitting into the ‘friends’ category?) and frantically try to beat other people to the entrance. Several hours later, exhausted and broke, we slog home with all our great deals. Or, in my case, with some good finds, along with the disappointment that I didn’t find the one thing I really wanted--- A mini fridge. I looked, oh believe me I did! I scoured dozens of garage sales, hoping to find that special little frigidaire. However, the only one I found that was just perfect was also terribly overpriced. As Sarah, in a wonderfully two year old manner, banged the door open and studiously piled miniature baskets inside repeatedly, I secretly hoped that she would unwittingly damage it, (not mortally, mind you) thereby potentially bringing down the price… At which time I would swoop by, pretend I didn’t know her, and say “Hmm, this is damaged, would you take $15 for it?” But by the time I came back to offer less, it had sold. Some conniving nitwit had got there before me. (I’m sure they couldn’t have wanted it half as much as I do!) The next one that I found on the way out was much bigger, and even though it was the last hour of the sale, and the thing was RIDICULOUSLY priced, he wouldn’t take less for it. After extolling the fridge’s many virtues, he went on to talk about how much he had it priced for at the beginning of the day, and blah. blah. blah. Why do they always think you care that they wanted more for it earlier? What, so knowing that he dropped the price ten dollars will make me more favorably disposed to pay twenty more than it’s worth? I think not. But, instead of sweetly saying “I don’t care what you originally had on it, you are stupid to think it will sell at this price”, I said “Well, thanks anyways!” and smiled with malicious pleasure, knowing that he would be hauling it to the dump in a few minutes.
I have to conclude that the highlight of the day was watching a mexican man stumbling out of the porta-potty, clutching a dvd player lto his chest like a lifeline, and darting glances back and forth as he scurried away. No, I’m not joking, I really saw that. With that, I say “A good time was had by all”, and decide not to bore you with every item I bought.

The last two days have found me spending a lot of time in (you’ll never guess..) nursing homes. Yes, that’s right. Lest you think that I have suddenly developed a debilitating disease, or that my grandfather has relapsed into having more strokes (not likely after two years of being a wonderfully healthy, ginseng swallowing, colloidal silver downing, 85 year old man [I can’t remember how old he is, so for me he’s been 85 ever since he was in the hospital]) or that we have managed to age my parents before their time, let me explain. Last night, I accompanied at the chorale’s first performance, which happened to be at an assisted living home that allows people with Alzheimers and such. For the most part, there were no strange occurrences. The only thing that really made me uncomfortable was when I sat down, and was immediately followed by a very very very elderly woman. After she kept on leaning over and grabbing my knee, I decided it was time to say hello. Thankfully, that distracted her from my knee. But this was only temporary…. I found out her name, details about her family, and told her about the concert, then ran out of things to say. So, I sat silently, thinking “Now what?” That’s when she started grabbing my arm. And running her hand over my shoulder. And my neck. Then my arm again. Yea. Um. Yea. Creepy? Thinking “Now what” escalated into a panicked “NOW WHAT??” I told myself that she probably had a combination of dementia, alzheimers, and possibly was senile, and I couldn’t just jump up and away, or run screaming. Besides, she had a pretty good hold on my arm by that point. (for an octogenarian, she had an impressive grip.) I would’ve had to tear myself away. Possibly literally. To say that I was weirded out would be a gross understatement. But what is one to do? A few seconds later, a worker came and gave her some medicine, and that gave me a good opportunity to make good my escape.
Today, since it was the second Sunday of the month, our church had it’s nursing home service here in town, and since the pastor (*cough*papa!) and Nathan (who normally speaks there) were both gone, Clark preached, and I played the piano. Typically, by the time I get there, papa has already managed to get people in the room where we hold the service, with the help of a worker. This time, though, it was left up to Clark and I (and eventually a very helpful worker) to bring people. Thus it began. To every person I saw out in the hallways, I smiled my uber friendly happy smile, put on a bright welcoming face (which, if you know me, rarely makes an appearance. I’m smiling inside, really I am!) and said “We’re having the church service down the hall, with lots of singing! Would you like to come?” I got four different responses. One of them, the one I got from most the people I spoke to, was an angry, frowning, resolute, “NO!” The second one (which I only got once) was “No thank you,” which, oddly enough, was accompanied by a smile. The third was a smile and an “I’d like to come to church, but not until after I go potty.” (I smiled back, said “Ok!” and hightailed it back where I came from.) The fourth was the last lady I asked. She explained that she might come, but she had some reports to write. The worker (a nice black lady) came over and said “Don’t worry about those now! You need to go get some Jesus!” Pronounced “JEEEE!zuz” So, the older woman dutifully followed me down the hall, presumably because she wanted to go get some Jesus. Of course, a few minutes later, she was hustling away, and when the worker asked her where she was going, her response was a loud, “None of your ______ business!” (Yes, I edited out the unnecessary adjective. Viewer discretion advised at the nursing home?) Oddly enough, though, she came back and appeared to get quite into both the sermon and the music. She was one of the most cognizant ones there. When the worker asked her if she enjoyed it, she replied strongly in the affirmative, which was encouraging. To her reply, the worker lady says “I knew you’d feel better once you got some religion for the day!” I refrained from commenting. My theological beliefs do not lead me to tell people that they should “get religion for the day.” Besides which, if she was listening, and is not a Christian, she was told that she should be contemplating her eternity in hell. Not exactly feel good, lovey dovey, inspirational stuff. Of course, if she (or anyone else there) was saved, then their minds were brought to meditate on heaven, which is extraordinarily encouraging, in which case she would feel better. (his text was the verse in Colossians about bringing your mind to heavenly things. Very good.) Ah yes, adventures in the nursing home. Hopefully, I won’t have to ever send either of my parents to one. (neither of their parents have ever used one, except for a very short period of rehabilitation, so I figure my chances are good.)
Anyway, this turned out longer than I planned. I am off to take lots of pictures, and possibly even a few good ones, so maybe next week I’ll be able to use a picture, instead of a thousand words. (make that 1,452. That’s worth a picture and a half!)

2010-05-27T17:07:00.001-07:00

Such a relief to be back in tune with my ever present, longsuffering sounding board that I call a blog. Lest I fall into several paragraphs of raging stress, due largely to music, (Why, oh why, can I not just teach little children piano, and ditch all this accompanying stuff?) and various other things, I will switch to some of my more trivial recent pursuits.
I’ve been planning. And scheming. This is the computer I want to buy:
The HP touchsmart tm2t customizable notebook PC. :) Ah, bliss. Touchscreen, stylus, notebook style, but with a keyboard as well, plus a better hard drive. I could wax eloquent on it’s many virtues for quite some time, but somehow I doubt most of you would be interested. Suffice it to say, I can’t wait til I have the cash in hand for that.
http://s7d2.scene7.com/skins/HPShopping/SWFs/hpcustomspin.swf?serverUrl=http://s7d2.scene7.com/is/image/&config=HPShopping/padded_config&infoTextColor=0xff0000&swatchModifier=op_sharpen%3d1&swatchRatio=2&zoomStep=3.5&contentRoot=http://s7d2.scene7.com/skins&serverSupport=1&&image=HPShopping/vk807av_is&initialFrame=0&instanceName=_1275002391370_popup
Then of course, the constant longing for a camera. Don’t get me wrong, I love my little Canon powershot A1100. As far as smaller, portable point-and-shoots go, it is tops. What I’m talking about is a DSLR. And no, I haven’t the faintest idea what brand or exact model I want yet. Someday….
Anyhow, Monday found me stuffed into the backseat of the truck with my parents. Now, lest you think that this is a normal backseat, let me explain…. Papa’s pride and joy is his ford ranger truck, which does NOT have some sort of king cab, which means that the little fold-down seat in the back is just enough for me to fit in. It’s one of the few times my height is a major disadvantage, as trying to stretch my legs out back there is close to impossible. Normally I don’t mind being tall at all, wearing heels with pride, and deluding myself into thinking that I look tall and slender like my sister in law, which I know isn’t precisely true. I’ve always thought of myself as being tall, or at least slightly above the average height for women, but now I’m starting to wonder. Actually, the other day, I felt short for the second time in my life. The first time was a guy who had a piano lesson after me, and has to be at least seven or eight inches taller. Normally I’m the tallest person in there, and I was completely taken aback to be dwarfed by somebody. The second time was in Starbucks. A girl was about 5’10, extremely skinny, and flaunting some serious spiky heels. All together, she had to be at least 6’2 or maybe even 6’3. Standing behind her, looking up in awe, all I could think was “So this is how it feels to be short.” And I absolutely hated it. I didn’t even notice what she was wearing, and I completely forgot which drink I had decided on. This was one of the few occasions that had me nearly speechless, a rare occurrence indeed. (The only other time I’ve been speechless recently was when someone said they tasted no difference between Paris and Lipton. Conniption fit aside, I nearly swallowed my tongue in horror.) Anyway, back to what I was previously rambling about—a lovely day spent with my parents. We hit Bellevue, Issaquah, Snoqualmie Falls, and a few other places all in one long, enjoyable day. Here are a few snapshots…
Inside the Bellevue Botanical Gardens. (Which, I might add, may be enjoyable if you dwell within the concrete jungle, but if you are used to being within five minutes of plenty of forests and flowers, is not as impressive as it should be. But still, we had a nice time wandering around.)

2010-05-18T23:43:00.001-07:00

And then came the disillusionment….
Every so often, I find myself believing the world to be a better place than it is. I live in a small, quiet world, of mostly Christian people, and I begin to think of everything as being like that. Today was one of the days that makes me thing of ice water being poured over my head, or being slapped across the face. Basically, a rude awakening. A guy was a creep. (well, still is a creep, actually) He made a creepy comment to me. Now I know why my papa nearly hit the ceiling when I went inside alone with him last week. Anyhow, the whole thing left me feeling somewhat bitter with the big sinful world, and longing to go back to my sweet peaceful, cozy, home. That’s where I am now, and I can’t express how much I love it here!
The bottom line is this: I am thinking about two things: The pursuit of holiness, and heaven. Being around so many unsaved people recently has made me just want to come home and steep myself in scripture. Seeing the rampant sin makes me want to run the opposite direction. Run to Christ, and His Word. It’s the only place that there is true holiness and solace from the world. This also makes me think of heaven, of the holiness that will abound there. The presence of Christ permeating everything will be unspeakably glorious, and the more I see of the world, the more I look forward to an eternity with the King of Righteousness!
Anyway, I suppose I am simply thankful for the people I am close to. Good solid examples of what a Christian should be surround me, from every corner, and I am grateful.

2010-05-18T15:21:00.001-07:00

I just became the queen of reference books. As one friend pointed out “How is that a good thing?” Well, I am one of the few people who are unhealthily fascinated by encyclopaedias. More specifically, the entire 30 volume set of Encyclopaedia Brittannica, 15th Edition. 10 volumes of Micropaedia, and 20 volumes of Macropaedia. Stowed away amongst them was Websters New International 3 volume dictionary, including the Seven Language Dictionary. A long craved boon has been fulfilled. I’ve always wanted a multi-volume dictionary. Since the 10 volume Oxford English dictionary will have to wait, these will most certainly do in the mean time! Getting them for free was an added bonus that nearly led to hyperventilation. Thankfully, I escaped bearing four rather large, heavy, boxes, and with my respiratory system mostly intact.
The last few weeks have been a ‘merry mélange of fun and activity’, as it were. Lest I be flippant, I should point out that my stress level has still been very high, but overall, I’ve been able to push that back some. Everyone’s favorite princess turned two, a few weeks after Gabriel did. It was quite the soiree. She seemed tickled pink, which was no surprise, considering the abundance of the favored color. Pink cake, check! Pink frosted crown sugar cookies, double check! Pink tutu and frilly pink skirt. It was quite lovely, what with the pink ad infinitum. Pink is simply perfect for a princess’ party. Gabriel, in his autumn colored checked shirt clashed terribly, and the paparazzi weren’t satisfied until the poor boy was in his white t-shirt. Later, that went too. (With a hearty amount of barbeque sauce and chicken spilled on it, mind you. I took significantly less pictures than normal, because of this:
I mean, really, how can me and my poor little Canon A-1100 compete with that? I only took about a hundred pictures, and that was 100 more than I needed. Now I’m waiting impatiently for pictures to appear on facebook.

Anyway, I’ve recently discovered what a heroic rescuer my mother is. I want to be like her ‘when I grow up’. Sunday, we were sending some friends off, and lo and behold…. A little boy, lying on our lawn, with a bicycle tangled in the vicinity of his shoe laces. Instead of crying or screaming, as most his age would (I estimate his age at 3 1/2 or 4), he simply blinked with owlish eyes, (for a little boy in need of rescuing must blink owlishly, and he did not disappoint) and said “Why hello there.” Upon ascertaining that he did indeed desire (and obviously needed assistance), mummy darling helped free him. He turned out to be quite the little gentleman, with a minimal amount of stuttering as he explained who he was and where he lived. As he rode away, he yelled that he was showing how fast he could go, which turned out to be quite fast for someone his age and height. Judging from the panic that gripped me, I think I’ll be one of those mothers who will have an exceedingly difficult time letting my little boys and girls climb trees or use roller skates, even though I never got hurt doing either of those. (Well, not seriously hurt)
There was much more I planned on saying, but once again time cuts me off.

2010-05-07T20:58:00.001-07:00

I was trying to decide if it’s a copout to simply post more pictures on my blog, rather than come up with something good to write. Then, while deliberating about which tea to order (I decided on Paris, by the way), I perused the Harney and Sons facebook page, and saw a photo posted of tea tins, which (several links later) led me to a guy’s blog. He had quite a few phenomenal pictures up, and for some reason that was a mixture of discouraging and encouraging to me. I commented, saying something complimentary, and probably somewhat cliched, because I feel like a stalker if I look at someone’s blog and don’t comment. Also, I was extremely impressed. On one hand, seeing good pictures makes me want to go out and take more…. On the other hand, it makes me think “Why can’t I take pictures like that?”
Either way, I’m throwing a few more pictures into cyberspace. Obviously, my favorite subjects make it in--- Niece and Nephew! :)
They’re not attempts at artistry, they are simply a few snapshots that make me happy. That’s what a hobby is for, right?

Kisses for Abigail!
Somehow he ends up bouncing around on Aunty Em’s bed every weekend. I think it’s one of his favorite places to play. I love it!
I love old sheet music, and this song makes me happy. The title itself is nice. Also has great decorative value in my room!
What can I say, I like loud jewelry.
Yet another drive in the country. He’s so cute… until he grows up and gets MASSIVE horns. Gotta love highland cattle.
Looking through the windshield… it’s blurry because we didn’t slow down at all. :-)

Busy busy busy busy. (say that ten times fast!)

2010-05-01T19:17:00.001-07:00

Well, well, well. Here I am at the end of another week. An excessively busy week. We went to Tacoma several times this week, which by Friday equaled exhaustion.
Thank you all for your prayers (those of you who were praying)... I got the job I was going for. :) Now my challenge will be learning to play moderately difficult music while paying attention to a director and choir. Thankfully, they seem understanding about my lack of experience in that exact situation. (hopefully that understanding will extend to when I make mistakes!)
Being in Tacoma so much this week lent lots of fascinating blog-ish material. It’s something of a different culture than Enumclaw, and since I haven’t gone to school in Tacoma for a few years, I’d forgotten what it’s like! There’s the man smoking a cigarette, strolling along with a baby stroller, who turns to wink at me while he crossed the street. Or there are the six cats sitting in one of Wes’ neighbor’s houses…. (I’m sorry, but that is overload!) My personal favorite however, are the two boys who came wandering down the street, with one of them balancing on a wheelchair. I happened to be loading stuff into the van, and they took the opportunity to holler swearwords in my general direction. Obviously I ignored them, instead of allowing my baser instincts to come to the fore.. i.e… hollering back! But as timing would have it, they were walking in front of our car as I headed back upstairs, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to remotely lock the car… The horn honked. The startled boy on the wheelchair fell. I smiled, somewhat evilly I’m afraid. :)
Anyway, I’m quite out of time, so the endless ramblings I had planned will have to wait. Enjoy your Lord’s Day tomorrow, friends!

Dignity, Always Dignity!!

2010-04-27T10:18:00.001-07:00

I know, it's been weeks. And through those weeks, every time I typed in a web address other than my blog, I felt guilty. What was I thinking, neglecting it so?
However, I find myself plagued with a common problem... very little brain power geared toward creative genius. Therefore, what follows may be more than a little ugly. Forgive me, my friends, for my lack of finesse.
Lots of little things have been going on, which add up to a nice life, in my opinion. Catering jobs, babysitting, reading, hobbies, and my latest renewed fad-- a morning "run."
Dignity has eclipsed comfort. At least for me, this very A.M.. Rather than double over, gasping, I doggedly kept on running this morning, just until I was out of sight of the neighbors. Despite the burning lungs and aching side, I couldn't bring myself to walk, at least not while they could see me. Perhaps my pride will benefit my muscles at some point. When I turned that corner, what started out as a promising jog turned into a determined speed-walk. Surprisingly enough, only the last half block turned into a pleasant meander. This morning, though, was so lovely and blue (birds singing, etc) that it was pleasant to be outside, even for such an energetic pursuit. (Of course, now it's gray and rainy. Welcome to Washington) When I started out, all I could think was "I really should be sitting on the deck with a coffee, not slogging around the neighborhood in sweatpants." Oh yes, sweatpants and a (relatively cute) sweatshirt, even though I had to display plenty of fortitude under the disdainful glances of other joggers who were in their R.E.I. stretchy pants or spandex.
But anyway, I would greatly appreciate prayer-- tonight I am going to audition/interview for an accompanist job. It'd be once a week, including performances, but it pays enough to cover more than insurance... which is precisely what I need. Also, it could lead to potential students. However, I'm not as good at sight reading and accompaniment as I am at other things, so I'll need ALL the prayer I can get!
As my aunt put it, I might wow them and be hired on the spot. My gut tells me that I'll be embarrassed in front of a choral group, and walk out trying to scrape together as much aplomb as possible....
And yet the motto remains... Dignity, Always Dignity!

Around the house. Sort of.

2010-03-25T14:15:00.001-07:00

I decided to throw some pictures up here, just for kicks. Enjoy.

Front drive… Not our house!

Morning cup of coffee… I just finished it off.

Flowers and Cecil.

View from the deck!

Spring has sprung, perhaps?

On my shelf…

Kitchen table. :-)

Software. And its many hazards.

2010-03-24T00:24:00.001-07:00

Once again, I find myself anxiously battling my computer. Well, not my computer. MY computer is always placid, docile, and overall endearing. Sometimes slow, but never stubborn and headstrong. So, technically, I am battling my mother’s computer. Even less fun. I am currently entangled in various software installations, most of which are not working. I would like to think that if I shake it or throw it very hard, it will immediately recognize me as boss, and stop this obstinate disagreeableness.
After trying multiple times to install Windows Live Messenger onto my poor abused, over used hard drive, I feel as if I am drowning in foreign terms, such as: .DLL files. Nvidia Network Access Manager. Malwares. Platform Manager. Clean Install. Plain Vanilla Version. BHOCITUS.DLL. Third Party Extensions.
I know what they all mean, but when I’ve seen them all so close together, it’s somewhat daunting.
Currently, I am experimenting with Windows Live Writer. We shall see if this blog post is really any easier to post, or any better looking than the other ones…
In the meantime, some pictures to experiment with…

Gibson, on fleeing temptation.

2010-03-22T09:31:00.000-07:00

I know, I blogged just last night. And yet, I find myself here again, for the sole reason of posting another excerpt.
I really enjoyed today's words from my puritan devotional (Voices from the Past), so I decided to post parts of it.

"Lay aside... sin which clings so closely."

--Hebrews 12:1

At times temptation presses in with violent demands. To combat the power and force of these, we must prepare out hearts with strong antidotes beforehand. Fix your heart upon your true treasure, your fellowship with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ. Flee to God to hide you. Here the tempter cannot reach you. Be much in communion with God, and the devil will have little communication with you. If he does try, he will have little effect. The soul is secure under the deep, warm, and constant sense of God's being your all in all. What powerful ammunition this is against the assaults and incursions of the tempter. Take up your wings, O Christian, and fly away that you may be at rest (Isa 40:31). When the soul has taken its flights, O how easily does it soar above the smoke and dust of fleshly lusts! Rusty spots on cold metal disappear when it is heated and burns red hot. Get your heart on fire and you will be Elijah-like in a flaming chariot of holy longings after God. Love your dear Master, and you will not find a love for sin. Consider also that things morally good or evil are not so just because one is commanded and the other forbidden, but it is what they are essentially and unalterably. They are fixed in their natures. Bathe your soul with the everlasting beauty of holiness, and the horror and ugliness of all iniquity.... Watch how the tempter has taken advantage of you in the past. Make these searches daily and compare them to the eternal law of God. These considerations will greatly help in the prevention and cure for the sins which so easily best us.

--John Gibson, Puritan Sermons 1659-1689, I:92-96

A study in frustration... cough I mean, patience.

2010-03-22T00:44:00.000-07:00

I feel as though it's been a million years since I last blogged... However, I think that might be a slight exaggeration. Hurrah for hyperbole.
Saturday was full of extraordinarily enlightening moments, as I spent the majority of it watching over children who were not my own. Indeed, they didn't even belong to one family. This loud, noisy, mass babysitting job was tiring, and I am still deliberating on whether or not it was worth the money... ;-)
Lessons learned from this exhausting day:
1.) When I am a mother (if that day every comes), and if I have children with bad attitudes, my sullen, angry, tomboy 9 year old will NOT be allowed to strip down to her last layer (which happened to be a spaghetti strap thing) just because the sun is shining.
2.) It turns out that saying in a gentle voice, "Joclyn, sweetie, please sit and be quiet now. Fruit snacks later!" was much better than saying the phrase that I was DYING to shout... "Shut up, you little weasel!"
3.) Just because some annoying, attitude-laden, over tattooed, guy (still wearing his big, mirrored sunglasses) comes in and says "I'm here for Landon," does NOT mean I will simply hand the child over. Honestly. And, if when I ask (quite pleasantly, I assure you) "What's your name, please?" he belligerently replies "Jake. Also known as HIS DAD," I also do not find that satisfactory. Luckily for him, I had already asked the mother for some details, and knew that he was indeed the dad. On reflection, though, I wish that I had demanded ID, just to be difficult.... Thankfully, I rose above juvenile impulses at the time. (By the way, the mirrored, big sunglasses made him closely resemble a fly.)
4.) If a little girl tells you that her feet are "Glued! Really!" to the floor, because she wants to watch you change your niece's diaper, the most effective words you can utter are "Rachel, or Heather, come do something about this!" Ha. (She would NOT go away. "Please, let me watch???") (as if I would ever.)

And it is nearly one o'clock, which means that my brain will not support many more words. Therefore, goodnight.

To the Tenth Degree!

2010-03-05T12:10:00.000-08:00

I decided to frantically jam in a short blog, as spending any more time on this than I have to seems ludicrous, especially when the sunlight is streaming through, and I can see hints of a lovely blue sky. The deck is calling my name, especially since I am already armed with a grande iced coffee. What a perfect way to spend midday!
Our triumphant squirrel hunter just came in-- apparently he got the disgusting rodent (masquerading as a squirrel) twice with the bb-gun. Sadly, it's illegal to kill them with a real gun within the city limits. *sigh for sad things*
Today is another "Happy Fun Sunny Day", dare I say to the tenth degree. (hence the title) My meaning behind this-- Today is ten times more sunny, ten times more happy, and ten times more fun. (I realize that this is inconsistent with the mathematical rules, but pardon me-- enthusiasm overrules coloring inside the lines sometimes) I have my beautiful music playing, have accomplished things, and the rest of the day belongs to me-- at least until 7 o'clock, when John MacArthur preaches in the last session of the shepherd's conference. I had no idea, until the last three days, that you could get such uplifting, encouraging spiritual edification from a webcast. Live streaming is my new hero.

Well, I certainly didn't plan on being this brief, but the beauty outside is calling!
G'bye!

2010-03-03T17:52:00.000-08:00

Today finds me rejoicing on many angles. Despite a few things that have been stressful, even painful, this has been a marvelous day. And it's not even over yet!

Papa was thrilled when I told him that we could watch the Shepherd's Conference live. Therefore, I took extra pains to make sure it would work for him. Part of that involved hauling my speakers out, to make the volume louder. The streaming volume wasn't so great, but hooked to my speakers, it took on epic proportions. One would have thought that John MacArthur was standing in our kitchen. (A wonderful thing, to be sure! I would love to meet him. There are very few pastors I admire and respect as I do him. The Lord has used him in powerful ways.)
Hearing three thousand men singing "Crown Him With Many Crowns," accompanied by a symphony orchestra was phenomenal, in a musical sense, but more moving than anything else. MacArthur's first message was centered around separating the church from the world. He especially emphasized the folly in many of today's churches, of trying to embrace the culture, or make unbelievers feel "comfortable" in churches. As much as I'd love to re-cap the whole thing, with my own editorial, I'll just assume you can listen to it yourself online later.
I am looking forward to the next few days.

Between sessions, I meandered off on a long walk. Lovely day for it. Oddly enough, my feet took me to Starbucks. I was helpless to stop. (on a side note, have I ever mentioned that the first sip of a peppermint mocha is like biting into an Ande's mint? Yum.) As I mentioned on facebook, I am amazed at the clarity of thought solitude can bring. Also, I never cease to be surprised at how entertaining it can be to sit in starbucks and simply watch people. Of course, I did more than just watch people. I read the journal of Esther Edwards Burr. Esther was Jonathan Edwards' daughter, and began her journal when she was ten. Even at that young age, her writing shows a maturity and spiritual awareness that few have.
I was amazed at how caught up in her life I got, simply by reading her short, far between journal entries. I found myself smiling when she rejoiced, and nearly cried when her words described the tragedies that hit their family. (Thankfully, the fact that I was in a public place prevented me from being a total emotional wreck.)
Another thing I noticed, and will spend more time on, is that no matter how many griefs hit their family, the various members remained steadfastly faithful, and sought their comfort in the goodness of God.

Jerusha Edwards, when she was seventeen, was often around David Brainerd, who spent much time in the Edwards home. Eventually, they had an understanding. Esther wondered if he only wanted Jerusha because she would make an excellent missionary, and supported his work with the Indians, but it seemed that there was a very real affection between them, which makes their story more tragic. After spending nineteen weeks ill in the Edwards household, Brainerd died. He was taken care of and nursed by Jerusha in his last days. Five months after he died, Jerusha passed on as well. She was 18 years old.
Here is Esther's account of those two events:

Northampton, Oct. 9, 1747

The sainted sufferer of the house, our temporary guest, our brother in the Lord, has at length, breathed his last. He called us all to his bedside, and tenderly talked of his going, and bade us, when we stand by his grave, to remember his words. He expressed himself ready to part with us all. "For to depart and be with Christ, was far better." To our Jerusha, his long-time nurse, who has watched and almost felt every pain of his poor racked body, for many months, he said: "Dear Jerusha, are you willing to part with me? I am quite willing to part with you. Though if I thought I should not see you and be happy with you in another world, I could not bear to part with you. But we will spend a happy eternity together." And so he had his message for each one of us all, and then fell asleep.

Northampton, Oct. 12, 1747

...Dear Jerusha's illuminated face was a study. She was rapt up no more in the living. It seemed as though her soul, liberated from earth, was already mounting up to holy communion with the spirits of the just made perfect, of whom not one of the great congregation could doubt, Mr. Brainerd was now one. And when came the words: "Are we not tending upward too, As fast as time can move? Nor would we wish the hours more slow, To keep us from our love!" it seemed to me as though she saw heaven open, the golden gates lifted up and was only waiting for angel wings to mount there. She is not long for this world. For exactly nineteen weeks, day and night, she has cared for this sick man; and she only eighteen.

Northampton, Feb. 14, 1748

This day our dear Jerusha died at eighteen. If as she and her sainted David, and we all believe, she be gone to her Father's House, she has already joined the holy company, of which he since last October has been one. They have been separated only five months. Though I doubt, whether he has ever been absent from her thought and longing love....And so we shall lay the frame of this ministering angel side by side with that of the man, who breathed out his life almost in her arms....Now they can say in concert, "My beloved is mine, and I am His!"

The next sad thing to happen to their family was the voting of the council to remove Jonathan Edwards from his church

Northampton, January

.....Nothing could be more beautiful than the manner in which Mr. and Mrs. Edwards have submitted to the decision of the Council with its majority of only one, recommending our removal from this place....

In 1752, Esther married Rev. Burr of Newark, President of the New Jersey College. In 1757, he died, leaving her with two children.

Princeton, Oct. 7, 1757

My loss, shall I attempt to describe it? God only can know. What can be written to set forth the affliction of a poor disconsolate widow and two fatherless ones? I have lost all that could be desired in a creature. I have lost all that I ever set my heart on, in this world. In his eulogium, Gov. Livingston said: "Cease not to weep and angel, whom you loved as a man." Oh, I am afraid I shall conduct myself so as to bring dishonor to my God and the religion I profess. No, let me rather die, this moment. I am overcome. To God only will I carry my complaint. I will speak it to His glory, that I think He has in an uncommon degree discovered Himself to be an all-sufficient God, a full fountain of good.

She went on to write a letter to her father, parts of which I have included:

One evening, in talking of the glorious state my dear departed husband must be in, my soul was carried out in such large desires after that glorious state, that I was forced to retire from the family to conceal my joy. When alone, I was so transported, and my sould carried out in such eager desires after perfection and the full enjoyment of God, and to serve Him uninterruptedly, that I think my nature would not have borne much more. I think, that night I had a foretaste of Heaven....I beg leave to add my need of the earnest prayers....but that God would constantly grant me new supplies of divine grace.

Here is part of Edwards' reply to her:

Indeed, He is a faithful God; He will remember His covenant forever; and never will fail them that trust in Him. But don't be surprised as though some strange thing had happened to you, if after this lights, clouds of darkness should return. Perpetual sunshine is not usual in this world, even to God's true saints...

The next year, Edwards himself died. I know I have posted this letter before, but I had to add it again. This is the letter that Sarah Edwards wrote to Esther.

My Dear Child:

A holy and a good God has covered us with a dark cloud... The Lord has done it. He has made me adore his goodness, that we have had him for so long. But, my God lives and He has my heart. O what a legacy my husband and your father has left us. We are all given to God, and there I am, and love to be.

Your ever affectionate mother,

Sarah Edwards

Sixteen days after her father died, Esther Edwards Burr died. Reading her journal was not only enjoyable, but held many personal examples of people who were more interested in serving the Lord than themselves, and who threw themselves wholly on His grace and goodness.
Hopefully you found this as interesting and profitable as I did.

Adventures in Mother-land.

2010-02-26T17:33:00.000-08:00

Such a morning has been had! Not only have I spent money, but also been to two different Starbucks I'd never been to before. Marvelous.
This morning found me with Kari, Sarah, and lots of women with children. If I hadn't been pushing a stroller, I would've felt quite out of place. As it was, though, I was able to overcome this to get to one of the main businesses of the day-- Buying things for Abigail and Gabriel! Offhand, I have no idea what the name of the place we went to was-- all I know was that it was a mass consignment sale of some sort, with hundreds of baby toys and clothes. An auntie or new mother's paradise! Thankfully, we were fortified with coffee, ready to take on anything... including any mothers who would dare to get in our way. Some of the conversations I overheard were exceedingly awkward, and not ones I would care to repeat... welcome to the world of pregnant women. Or women with babies. Or women with children.
One thing I learned-- if I'm going to be shopping at a baby place, or be around lots of pregnant women, wearing a babydoll style shirt is a bad idea. The advantage is that I blended in, I suppose. :/
Quite an interesting place, overall. I found it entertaining (and occasionally disturbing) to observe the "public" parenting of many people there. There's the mother that yells at her kid to be quiet, as well as the mother who doesn't care what her kid is up to. Or there are the mothers who smile and give their screaming kid whatever they want.
It doesn't take long to get acclimated to random baby-ish shrieks coming from various directions. However, there was one thing that I couldn't quite feel comfortable with-- A woman asked me if I'd be interested in buying some body-re-shaping clothing. "We have some for post-partum, as well!" (she adds helpfully) I informed her that I was quite happy with my current body shape, so no, thank you. "Well, then, would you care to enter the drawing to possibly get some free?" Once again, I offered my polite (if slightly acidic) "No, thank you." (After that comes the false smile, of course. As well as me frantically wondering if I look pregnant.)
Another fun thing about being around that many people is all the conversations you overhear while standing in line, or while unobtrusively going through racks of 6-9 months baby clothes. I almost felt as if I was listening in on people's lives. One woman was giving quite the narrative to her friend... "So I was like, Fine, I've had it. If he doesn't want me, he's just not good enough for me! So, I'm like, totally gone."
I resisted the urge to turn around and ask if she was talking about her boss, her dog, or her boyfriend.
The other fascinating, if odd, one I heard was an indian man with an accent talking into his bluetooth. He'd been standing in line for quite some time, looking bored. Here and there I caught a snippet... "And, man, you would love it. Dude, I was going down this waterfall and..... Pretty awesome stuff man, ya know! Just wild." After listening to a few more tales of heroics and adventures, I decided that he was (at the very least) embellishing his story. He was one of three guys that I noticed there. Despite his butchering of the english language, I had to admire his tenacity for braving a sale like that.
One of the positive ends of all this: Abigail will soon be the proud (if unaware) owner of a pink poodle stuffed animal. Her name is Collette. Gabriel will have a sweet, if slightly funny-looking horse (or donkey-- it's hard to tell which he is) as a new cuddle bud. What can I say, I have a fetish for buying obscure stuffed animals. But they were so cute!
Anyway, I have lots of things that I should be doing, and blogging is not one of the necessities... therefore, adieu.

A note from Ryle.

2010-02-25T12:23:00.000-08:00

Considering the fact that all of my recent posts have been largely narrative, or suggestions on various things, it's definitely time for a good, solid, quote. Or lengthy excerpt, in this case. I HIGHLY recommend reading it.

Thus, here are several thoughts from J.C. Ryle's "Expository Thoughts on the Gospels," Vol. I.
The passage of scripture he based this section on is Matthew II 1-12.

I'm not putting all his thoughts on this here-- instead, I'm picking and choosing.

....These verses teach us, that there may be knowledge of scripture in the head, while there is no grace in the heart. Mark how king Herod sends to inquire of the priests and elders "where Christ should be born." Mark what a ready answer they return him, and what an acquaintance with the letter of Scripture they show. But they never went to Bethlehem to seek for the coming Saviour. They would not believe in Him, when He ministered among them. Their heads were better than their hearts. --Let us beware of resting satisfied with head-knowledge. It is an excellent thing, when rightly used. But a man may have much of it, and yet perish everlastingly. What is the state of our hearts? This is the great question. A little grace is better than many gifts. Gifts alone save no one. But grace leads on to glory.
The conduct of the wise men described in this chapter is a splendid example of spiritual diligence. What trouble is must have cost them to travel from their homes to the house where Jesus was born! How many weary miles they must have journeyed! The fatigues of an Eastern traveller are far greater than we in England can at all understand. The time that such a journey would occupy must necessarily have been very great. The dangers to be encountered were neither few nor small. But none of these things moved them. They had set their hearts on seeing Him "that was born King of the Jews;" and they never rested till they saw Him. They prove to us the truth of the old saying, "Where there is a will there is a way."

It would be well for all professing Christians if they were more ready to follow the wise men's example. Where is our self-denial? What pains do we take about our souls? What diligence do we show about following Christ? What does our religion cost us? These are serious questions. They deserve serious consideration.
Last, but not least, the conduct of the wise men is a striking example of faith. They believed in Christ when they had never seen Him; but that was not all. They believed in Him when the Scribes and Pharisees were unbelieving; but that again was not all. They believed in Him when they saw Him a little infant on Mary's knee, and worshipped Him as a king. This was the crowning point of their faith. They saw no miracle to convince them. They heard no teaching to persuade them. They beheld no signs of divinity and greatness to overawe them. They saw nothing but a newborn infant, helpless and weak, and needing a mother's care like any one of ourselves. And yet when they saw that infant, they believed that they saw the divine Saviour of the world. "They fell down and worshipped Him."
We read of no greater faith than this in the whole volume of the Bible. It is a faith that deserves to be placed side by side with that of the penitent thief. The thief saw one dying the death of a malefactor, and yet prayed to Him, and "called Him Lord." The wise men saw a newborn babe on the lap of a poor woman, and yet worshipped Him and confessed that He was Christ. Blessed indeed are those that can believe in this fashion!
This is the kind of faith, let us remember, that God delights to honor. We see the proof of that at this very day. Wherever the Bible is read the conduct of these wise men is known, and told as a memorial of them. Let us walk in the steps of their faith. Let us not be ashamed to believe in Jesus and confess Him, though all around us remain careless and unbelieving. Have we not a thousand-fold more evidence than the wise men had, to make us believe that Jesus is the Christ? Beyond doubt we have. Yet where is our faith?

-- J. C. Ryle.

2010-02-24T13:11:00.000-08:00

Before I continue, (or rather, start) let me point out that the cheery ideas of hiking (in my last post) were indeed fulfilled... Later that day, I went up into federation forest with Julie Love. Absolutely stunning scenery. I love how close it is to home! But of course, as soon as I pulled out my camera, the three words flashing at me nearly made me cry... "No Memory Card." Yeah. Of all the "disgustipating" things. Next time, I will not be found so ill-prepared.

Anyway, yesterday found mom, papa, and I in Leavenworth. (the bavarian-esque village, not the barbarian-esque prison) I have to admit that the scenery on the way there was the highlight. While the actual town was cute and nice, it didn't do much for me. But that's not to say that I wouldn't LOVE to go back. :-) One of my favorite shops was obviously Chocolat.... But of course, since it was in the back of another store, we had to get through a salesman (whose wares were ridiculously overpriced, by the way) who kept telling us the translations to german words that we didn't really need to know. Gesthaus means hotel? What? NO WAY! Epiphany! Oh wait. Already knew that. Wunderbar means marvellous? Wow. This is just the highlight of my education. But it was worth it to get to the chocolate shop. The man behind the counter was perfect for the role. Snow white hair, sweater vest, tie, and... English accent. Yes. I felt like I was back in the Chelsea tea shop in Oxford. And of course I'm a fan of any man who tries to sell chocolate by giving whole truffles to people. "Oh, I see by your starbucks that you like coffee. Perhaps you would like to try this mocha java truffle?" Why, yes, I'd love to!

But, chocolate and leavenworth aside, I have finally got a plan for tonight. After finishing all the things I have to do, I'm going to sit down and watch El Dorado. I've been wanting to for about a week. Now there's a classic John Wayne. Any movie that has John Wayne, Robert Mitchum, and James Caan has GOT to be amazing. At least I think so. But I'm slightly biased-- we've been watching that movie for years. My first memories of it include my dad covering my eyes when Alan Traherne (a.k.a. Mississippi) makes his entrance by knifing a man, as well as getting my eyes covered when Thornton kisses Maudie. Yes indeed. Although personally, I've always been of the persuasion that Charlene Holt (Maudie) only got a part in it because she was in some way related to The Duke. A niece, perhaps? Her acting is definitely the low-point of the movie. However, she DID make it into an episode of Perry Mason, so there must be some ability there.
Actually, there are some fantastic quotes in that movie as well. The one I hear most often (and heard just the other day from papa) is "Can I ask you something? Why do you wear your hair like a wild mustang that needs a curry comb and a brush?" (Can I help it that my hair is a bit out of control after I take it down?)
As it turns out, the movie is based on a poem by Poe, which James Caan quotes in the movie. Yes, several members of our family have it memorized. That's what happens when you watch a movie a million times.

Gaily bedight,

A gallant knight,

In sunshine and in shadow,

Had journeyed long,

Singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.

And, as his strength

Failed him at length,

He met a pilgrim shadow;

"Shadow," said he,

"Where can it be,

This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the mountains

Of the moon,

 Down the valley of the shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied,--
"In search of Eldorado!"

Happy Fun Sun Days.

2010-02-20T10:44:00.000-08:00

I stand amazed. All these days, and still I have come up with no brilliance for my blog. Sad day, my friends, sad day!
Nonetheless, despite my insufficient inspiration (not to say that some of you don't inspire me...) I plan to "give it a go" anyhow.
The fun sunny days are here again! at least, they appear to be. Yesterday morning (or was it the day before that?) found me up on the deck, bible in hand, tea in other hand, gazing at the mountain. Absolutely gorgeous.
However, lest I wander on that track for an inordinate amount of time, let me move on to other, even more random things.

First off, let me point out to the general public and world beyond that Ella Fitzgerald music makes for a lovely mood setter. I recently rented the "Ella Fitzgerald sings Cole Porter" cds from the king county library. (The only library left where I don't have outstanding fines. At least they don't charge a dollar per day late fee for movies, like some *coughenumclawcoughcough* libraries I know of...) Anyway, Ella's smooth tones, together with Porter's brilliance, are wonderful background music. Of course, I usually crank it up to unbelievable decibels, (much to the chagrin of my family, not to mention the surrounding neighbors) and sing loudly and dissonantly along with it. (provided I'm home alone)
And for those of you who saw my facebook status the other day, about country music, let me reassure you-- My folly has passed. (mostly) I have returned to my happy smooth music. No more twangy guitar tunes for this chick. Besides, most country music revolves around beer, illicit relationships, diesel trucks, and dogs. Oh, and losing your woman/girlfriend/wife. Yea. Good stuff, right? OOOOh wait. Not. At. All. (don't get me wrong, though... I do love trucks. For years, I thought I would buy one someday. However, outrageous gas mileage has convinced me otherwise.) That reminds me of a song.... "I hate that stupid old pickup truck you never let me drive... your big red-neck heartbreak has really been a lie." lol. (does Taylor Swift really count as country?) ;-)

Today is filled with happy things. Mostly girly things, including my jewelry addiction, but some more generic things. Like hiking (hopefully) and sun (at least for now) and music (obviously!) and iced coffee (at some point today) and sunglasses (after all, who needs the excuse of the sun to wear sunglasses? I've found that they are the solution to many problems... including bad hair days (which today is) ) and books. (always.)
Since I have now broken my previous record for bad grammar and run-on sentences, I should stop now.

G'bye!

Not a single ingenious title comes to mind.....

2010-02-11T23:26:00.000-08:00

After being assaulted with a myriad of nightmares last night, my brain is hardly functioning fully, but I hope you will spare me any extreme criticism.
I woke up in the middle of the night, and had all sorts of ideas in my head about what to blog about. A plethora of creative ideas danced in my brain, and sounded fantastic in theory. However, I sit here attempting to make them sound good in hard cold type, and find it impossible.
Even though this will certainly not be one of my better blogs, I won't have time to blog later. Ergo, the randomness is justified. (At least, that's what I keep telling myself)

Goodness. What should I say? I realized how much my blog needed an update. Obviously, I'm not working at Starbucks, but neither am I giving up on that. Prayer is still appreciated. And needed, desperately!

I'm in such a contemplative, musing mood that it's hard for me to even focus on one topic to write on. My advice to you, be ye friend or foe, is this: Quit reading now, while you're still ahead.

The last week I have battled a nasty cold, and thus suffered a lack of sleep. My days (especially today) have been turbulent, and rough overall. As often happens when I'm tired, I find myself slipping into melancholy. Enough to where I have even created a Melancholy Mood playlist...Yup. I'm not sure whether this was my most brilliant idea... But somehow, the mix of fanciful, sad, and soothing songs makes me feel a bit better. I engineered it so that it slips from sad songs that I empathize with towards more optimistic smooth songs. What can I say-- I love my music! Daniel Powter understands this completely. Or at least his under-credited songwriter does... "You had a bad day, taking one down, you sing a sad song just to turn it around"
But sometimes, not even the songs will work their winsome magic. .
I am experiencing a sad lack of sufficient inspiration to write a truly good blog, and fear that it's disjointedness may scare off even the most lenient readers.
I wish I could say that I am pondering some enigmatic doctrine, or sifting through a great theological idea. But I'm afraid I have no conundrum that lofty. No biblical riddle besets my brain, and no great debate arises. A million picayune thoughts are rushing through my head. Yes, some of them are ambiguous and confusing, but hardly important in the larger scheme of things. They are things I haven't said to anyone and for me that is at least slightly abnormal. ;-) Typically, if I am thinking about something, or upset about anything, a good friend will be sweet and let me use them as my sounding board. Or if not a friend, then my poor papa will be subjected to a long drive, during which I constantly talk, sometimes loudly, and often senselessly. By the end of the drive, my thoughts are either hopelessly muddled, or brought together with surprising clarity.
But this time, there will be no sounding board. These thoughts are my own. No, there's nothing amazingly secret or clandestine about them. It's just that at times, my overly-private nature kicks in, and won't allow me to share with anyone.
I'm sure that tomorrow I will read this blog and laugh at my own silliness. Perhaps even delete it. But even so, I'm going to say what I am thinking-- Even though I'm not going through anything important or studying something major, I would appreciate any prayer I could get. No, this is not some sort of "Outcry for help," nor is it even that pressing of a matter. Don't over-react and think that I'm depressed in any way. I'm not. I have the joy of Christ, and even when I find myself lacking or coming up short, I know that He is abundantly enough. (is that a redundant phrase?)

And lest I end on a disconsolate note....
Through the last two days, I have seen God's hand working more than normal. (That was stated badly-- I'm not saying that He's been doing more or less, just that I have seen it more) Even in my largely uneventful life, I have gotten a glimpse of His providence in even small aspects of my everyday life. For this I find myself in awe. For this I am thankful. For this I praise Him. And there is nothing the least bit despondent in that!

Help, please?

2010-01-28T14:58:00.000-08:00

I, for once in my life, do not plan on being at all wordy.

I just want to ask for prayer-- I'm applying, yet again, for a job. This time, at Starbucks... :-)
However, if I was a manager, and I looked at my application, I would not be that impressed, considering the fact that I have very little work experience. (technically, I have only held one job, which I still hold)
Ergo... I need LOTS of prayer, please!

Oh, but I have a plan if I happen to get an interview..
"You think I want to hear a monologue about your feelings?"
"No, no sir!"
"Do you even wanna be here, kid?"
"I.. I'm not too sure"
"Not too sure? I will ask you again- do YOU want to BE HERE?"
"I DO sir, I do!!"
"And why is that!?"
"Because I got nowhere else to go!!!"

(no, haven't seen the movie, just happen to know the quotes... )

2010-01-25T22:01:00.000-08:00

Sleep is a symptom of caffeine deprivation.

The time has come. Though I have often argued that I am not addicted to anything, least of all caffeine, I am now proven wrong. I can picture it now: I stand there, adamantly stating that "I am NOT addicted to caffeine! I simply enjoy coffee once in a while. Maybe I love it, but certainly I'm not addicted." In my mind, I can see various people with whom I have argued this.... And here, with the strong potential of witnesses, I admit it. You were right. I was wrong.

ADDICTION, Noun:

an abnormally strong craving

(now that part, I understand)

the state of being abnormally tolerant to and dependent on something

that is psychologically or physically habit-forming

(Who, me?)

the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or

to something to such an extent
that its cessation causes severe trauma.

(does a two day headache count as severe trauma?)

The condition of being habitually or
compulsively occupied with or or involved in something.

("habitually" is such an ugly word...)

need for and use of a habit-forming substance
characterized by tolerance and
by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal.

(physiological. Now there's a word I haven't heard in a while)

I know, I went a bit overboard on the definitions. But how could I resist the dozens of fantastic adjectives and adverbs provided? To pass up the chance to use such words would have been a travesty. And there you have it. The last two days have given me what may be the worst headache of my life. It started easily enough.. I woke up one morning, and didn't make coffee. Alas, what consequences that lack of an action brought! I assumed that it would fade eventually. 15 hours later, I hoped that sleep would assuage it. 8 hours after that, I faintly wondered when it would go away. 10 more hours passed, and I knew it wouldn't. A triple shot caramel macchiato barely touched it. Two more shots of espresso, and it vanished. I, being the logical, calmly thinking person that I am... (ha!), know exactly what you other logical people are thinking... "Shouldn't she NOT have had coffee if she knows it's the cause of headaches?" Well, in fact, I was having coffee to be sure that it was indeed a caffeine headache. After all, it could have been a brain tumor. Or possibly a concussion. Perhaps a subdural hemorrhage. Maybe even cardiac arrest. (well, maybe not that, but you get the idea)

However, I am now nearly certain that caffeine is my culprit. Or rather, the lack thereof. No more will I fruitlessly argue that I have never been addicted to caffeine. Now, I have a choice to make: I can either deal with the headaches for a few days (hopefully not weeks) and then make sure I don't drink coffee every day, OR... I can go on shamelessly savoring latte after latte. Grande. Venti. Whatever size I want.

Sadly, though, I am one of those people who hates the idea of being that dependent on anything, let alone a lame little chemical addiction. Ergo, my decision: Somehow, some way, I will have to reduce my macchiato happiness to only every other day. I am still trying to decide if Paris is caffeinated enough to also be banned.(perish the thought!)

For those of you who are not weeping for me by now, here are some quotes to bring it home...

No one can understand the truth until he drinks

of coffee's frothy goodness.

~Sheik Abd-al-Kadir

A morning without coffee is like sleep.

Decaffeinated coffee is the devil's blend.

The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about it

which the cheering influence of the afternoon

or evening cup of tea cannot be expected to reproduce.

~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Need I say more?

When Breaks the Dawn

2010-01-20T11:13:00.000-08:00

This morning brings with it the anticipation of wonderful things. At the moment, my hands are frozen, because I have just spent a lovely 45 minutes outside, watching the sun rise. The second that the last drop of coffee disappeared (goodness, I have no idea how that happened...) my brain decided that keeping warm wasn't a good idea. Therefore, please excuse any typos. I'm finding that typing with stiff fingers ends in frustration.
But I digress.
After seeing the mountain turn various shades of gold, blue, and violet, I got bored with trying to take pictures of it. Apparently, my little camera doesn't like to actually capture the mountain as it really is. (it takes a mammoth snow covered hill, and reduces it to a teensy, cloudy blob that looks much further away than it is) So, I (in a very sneaky manner, I assure you) went and got mom's camera, hoping for better results. Nope. Which leaves me to conclude one thing-- I lack the finesse required to get a good shot of the mountain. Of course, the tree in the way brings me some comfort. Also, I'm trying to convince you that we really do have a fantastic view of the mountain from our deck... I simply can't manage to get it on film.
Though I enjoyed solitude for the most part, I was eventually joined by several others. Namely, too many squirrels. I have often expressed my dislike for these grimy rat-relatives, and that still stands. They disgust me. They are far too bold. Anyhow, they dashed around the trees, chasing each other and chattering loudly. However, a much more welcome visitor was a blue jay, that nearly took a year off of my life when he came skyrocketing out of the bushes. I felt like he should've had a japanese accent, a red headband, and been screaming "Kamikaze!" Now, wouldn't that have made a good picture!

The Papa's Sermons....

2010-01-10T19:22:00.000-08:00

Sovereign Grace Baptist Church Sermons page.

Peace despite doldrums.

2010-01-09T20:01:00.000-08:00

After reading my sister's well-written, and undoubtedly more creative blog, I was both inspired and discouraged to write. Inspired, because there are things I want to say, and reading her witty account gave me the needed "kick" to say them. Discouraged, because I highly doubt that the caliber of my writing will come anywhere near hers.
Despite that, I trudge on. If you are one of the unfortunate people whom I have connived into reading my ramblings, and especially if you are one of the extraordinary ones who make it all the way to the end of my blog, I thank you for reading... I sincerely hope you find something enjoyable in it!
The reasonable thing to do would be to give some sort of introduction, and so I will break my normal habit, and be reasonable.
I have no reason to complain. And yet, somehow I persist in it. Most people who know me even moderately well realize how stuck I have felt recently. Then, of course, shortly after a nice emotional "I'm-going-to-join-the-army-or-national-guard-because-i-feel-smothered" outburst, I heard a sermon on contentment... Ouch. (for those of you who missed out on that colorful story, here's the summary --- stress+emilie = thoughts of impulsiveness. Don't worry, I would not join any branch of the service on a whim. Besides, can you really imagine me in the army? Ha! I think not. I would die, or murder everyone in my unit accidentally. Also, on a side note, I would hate to give up wearing my statement piece necklaces and earrings.) Anyways, hearing that sermon, combined with multiple other things, has brought me to what I want to say.
Typically, my favorite way to calm down, or get some sort of peacefulness, is to do something with candles, tea, music, a book, or something like that. (Obviously, chocolate is often thrown into the mix) If I have more time, it includes a bubble bath and all of the above, minus the tea. Those things often significantly reduce my stress, and help me calm down after a rough day. And there is nothing wrong with that. There is nothing better than finding a lull in a busy day, and relaxing. But, while those things may bring a calm or peace, I have been finding more and more recently that the only thing that brings a deep, non-superficial, comfort and peace is spending time in prayer and scripture. Ten minutes with my Bible brings me more peace than an hour with music and candles. Five minutes in prayer is more effective than all my chocolate and tea. I would love to wax eloquent on this, and elaborate, but the facts are simple: The only one who gives peace is Christ. Scripture and prayer are the most effective things. And this only makes sense. After all, Christ is the ultimate goal in everything, so naturally He will be at the center of peace and contentment on earth. I suppose that what I'm also saying is that this life is temporal. All its stress and sadness will go away before we know it. Life is a vapor. An eternity of praising God is what we have to look forward to, and the unsurpassed joy of Heaven is what will be the end of earthly pain.

But of course, in the meantime, I still recommend coffee, chocolate, tea, candles, music, and all those wonderful things. :-)

On a lighter note....

It's three in the morning... You really think that I could come up with a good title at this hour?

2010-01-07T03:34:00.000-08:00

I have nothing else creative left in me. It is 3:10 a.m, and I should be sleeping. When I get tired, I become over-contemplative. Also, words like "emotional" and "insecure" and "moody" come to mind... Basically, when I'm lacking in sleep, mood swings are sure to follow.
I've been thinking through so many things recently, that I'm not even sure what to blog about. Of course, that's never stopped me before, so I'll give it my best shot. I have enjoyed blissful absolute silence for the last three hours, and hopefully will be able to actually sleep when I'm done here.
Anyone who talks to me moderately often already knows this, but for those of you who don't.... Recently, my uncle edited a puritan devotional, called "Voices From The Past." As it just so happens, it's out of stock everywhere. Also, it recently made the CVBBS current bestsellers list... But those are extraneous facts that aren't pertinent to what i'm saying. (I just am tickled pink about the whole bestsellers thing, so what better place to say it than on my blog?) And now for the semi-pertinent facts... I got the book for Christmas, and have been reading out of it. A few days ago, I read something that was actually just what I needed at the time. Apparently, it's still exactly what I need... Why else would it come to mind at this time of night?

So, here are a few parts of it.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God,

and his righteousness,

and all these things will be added unto you.

Matthew 6:33

Until we get our hearts out of the world, how easily our hearts are carried away with the thoughts of earthly concerns. Until we can separate and purge our spirits, how we mingle our prayers with many ridiculous thoughts.....we should always labour to get our hearts above the world into the presence of God, as if we were by Him in heaven, and wholly swallowed up with His glory. Though our bodies are on earth, our spirits should be in heaven. Until we get above the mists of the world, we can see nothing of clearness and comfort; but when we can get God and our hearts together, then we can see there is much in the fountain, though nothing in the stream; and though little on earth, yet we have a God in heaven. This is our great aim, to be with God in heaven. His residence is there, and we seek that our hearts might be there. We have liberty to ask supplies for the outward life, but chiefly we should ask spiritual and heavenly things. .... it is far more pleasing to Him when we ask for grace. In every prayer we should seek to be made more heavenly minded by conversing with our heavenly Father.

---Thomas Manton, Works, I:60-62

Ed: Richard Rushing

uber-edited by me.

Well, there you have it. My thought, or rather Manton's thought, for the evening. Now, I'm hoping to go to sleep. With any luck, no one will feel the need to wake me up before noon.

Midnight Heroics? I think not.

2010-01-05T16:49:00.000-08:00

Typically my blogs are quite random. Can I say that? Can something be typical and random? Well, for today, it can be. Anyhow. From that randomness, I come to several conclusions, the most important being this: I can blog about ANYTHING I want!
So, here goes.

Last night, after laying snug in my bed for several hours, vainly attempting to sleep, I started to drift off. Right about that time (Precisely 2:10 A.M.) I heard a loud, disturbing crash from the kitchen. My immediate impulse was to do something distinctly girly, like scream loudly or hide. However, I quelled those impulses, and waited to see if anyone else would get up to investigate. While hoping that someone manly and strong (like clark or papa) would appear, I continued with the only plan I could think of. Having ascertained that there should've been no one from my family lurking about in the kitchen, I jumped up, put on my glasses, and searched for the closest available weapon. Of course, there aren't any pistols in my room, and my pepperspray would be in my purse in the living room. Thus, we have the pen. Feeling very MacGyver-Bourne-esque, I snatched it and prepared to confront the intruder. (I hear that pens make excellent weapons to jam into someone's throat... My plan was to test this theory.)
But the one day that I am prepared (or at least have convinced myself that I am prepared) there was no apparent intruder. I know-- all of that, and I didn't even end up with a good heroic story. Lame, I'll admit. A bunch of things had randomly fallen off of the wall, with no apparent catalyst. Unsolved mysteries are so unsatisfying. Oh well.

2009-12-27T22:34:00.000-08:00

My original plan in blogging today was to come up with some sort of witty narrative. As things stand at the moment, I find that impossible, especially since I have promised myself not to treat my blog as my own personal journal. If I was treating it as such, I might say something like "I feel sick to my stomach." Not a virus or a flu, mind you. Have you ever seen something that physically turns your stomach? Well, I've just seen it. My goal in blogging at the moment is to get my mind off of it, so I'll recount lighter things.... such as:

What books I got for Christmas!!!

Earlier today, I asked a seven year old kid how their Christmas was. The first thing they did was recount what gifts they got, complete with details about color, texture, and everything else. Then they went on to tell what presents their brother and mother got. I understand the joy of being seven years old and getting gifts, but something about it bothered me. Perhaps because the first thing she thought of when she heard the word Christmas was gifts. Not Christ, not happiness, (although her gifts certainly did make her happy), not food (which happens to be one of the things I think about when Christmas comes to mind) and not even family (Which I would think would be the main thing that would come to even non-Christian's minds). Just gifts. And thus, my discontent with that conversation has led me to want to tell someone what I got for Christmas. Yes, I know what you are thinking... "Isn't it a bit inconsistent for her to be annoyed because someone else could only go on and on about what gifts they got, and then blog about what gifts she got?" Yes, it is. But, in fact, I am not simply going to reel off a list, but rather am going to focus in on some of the more interesting ones.... I.E. BOOKS!!!
You may find this completely boring, but I, for one, am completely enamored. (Can I say that about books?)
Clark got me Twelve Extraordinary Women by John Macarthur... I don't know if he knew that I was planning on buying that one or not, but either way, I am thrilled! Also, he got me More Love To Thee, which I had not read, but am also excited about. Mom even got me a book this year. :-) The Letters Of Jane Austen. Obviously, the author is self-explanatory. I recently read a fictionalized account of Jane Austen's life, so I am looking forward to reading the facts, as she herself states them. Papa got me Voices From The Past, a Puritan devotional which happens to be edited (and signed! :-)) by my uncle. I'm quite happy that he got it for me, since I would have had to buy it myself otherwise, which would've been difficult since it is out of stock everywhere. Somehow, he also managed to get me a copy of Esther Burr's Journal, with extracts from the letters of Mrs. Sarah Trimmer. One of the ones that Bentson Printing (Tacoma) printed.

And what I consider to be the grand finale ..... Mom and Papa got me J.C. Ryle's Expository Thoughts on the Gospels. All four volumes!!! I have wanted that for years.

Anyhow, my ploy has worked, and I am no longer sick to my stomach. I leave you... So I can go read my books!

The Best of Times

2009-12-23T02:47:00.000-08:00

Today was one of the best days that I have had in a long time, so of course it is a necessity for me to blog about it.... right?

Started out nicely, talking to friends, and making sure no harm came to Sarah Grace while she slept. Later in the day, I had the good fun of meeting with a lovely group of young women at Starbucks, for a sort of Christmas coffee get together. Quite nice.

When I got home, my papa says "Oh, you look so elegant, I feel like I should be taking you out somewhere!" And, since mom was busy with prep for her dinner, and the opportunity to flee for a while looked good, he did.
We started out heading toward Seattle, and of course I talked nearly the whole way. Bless papa's heart, he just listened, nodding at the appropriate times, and dropping a few comments here and there. I know very few people easier to talk to than him. Luckily, he also doesn't seem phased by random emotional breakdowns, or by me throwing myself into one of his office chairs and saying something like "Do you know what just makes me SICK!?" at a high volume. But I digress. When we made it to Seattle, papa pointed out various landmarks of interest.... i.e. the space needle and the seattle skyline.. :-) and we drove along fifth avenue. "Look, em, there's the fifth avenue theater!" It was quite fun.
After winding our way through seattle, and taking the occasional Christmass-y snapshot, I have come to at least two conclusions. These are: First, that I absolutely MUST buy a pair of classy black boots. I deeply regret that I didn't do it years ago. Second, that Seattle is a culture all it's own. So many fascinating people and outfits. One too many gay guys, but overall quite interesting. When the lack of parking was made completely clear, we drove past the space needle, and headed towards Bellevue. That's right, two major shopping cities in one evening. I never thought I'd see the day when papa and I were roaming around the Bellevue Square Mall with Starbucks in our hands, but that day has come. After standing in much too long of a line, we snatched our drinks and hit the shops. Well, I hit the shops, while papa patiently waited outside each one. Ann Taylor, Teavana, Godiva, Claire's, to name a few. To my great chagrin, Old Navy was NOT among the "hit shops." So sad. If there really is an Old Navy in that mall, I'd appreciate it if someone would tell me. I absolutely need to buy a pair of those 7 dollar pajama pants. Anyhow, I am also fascinated by the Bellevue world. It too has a culture of it's own. It is a world where nine year old boys in front of me in line at Starbucks order their caffeinated drinks while texting on an Iphone. (that's right, a nine year old boy with an iphone.) A world where the baristas can be rude to you, because they know you will still buy your drinks there, and because they are really too busy to provide quality service. (right?) A world where every other person you see is wearing four inch spikes, holding a coffee in one hand, and a cellphone in the other, all the while balancing about a dozen shopping bags. (yes, i'll admit that at times I am that person) A world where the line from santa clause stretches all the way to the line from starbucks. A world where the twelve year old girls are dressed like eighteen year olds. All in all, I had a lot of fun watching not only the other people there, but also my papa's reaction to those people. After buying a satisfactory amount of big, statement-piece earrings, I decided I was done... Now what? Now we head for the parking garage. But of course, we wander around the southeast parking garage for fifteen minutes, then discover that our truck is in the northeast parking garage. Back through Macy's, back past Excalibur, and back past Santa. There it is! A nice drive home, and what do we find?
A very loud, highly volatile group of women. Volatile in the sense that the slightest thing sends all of them into unbelievably vocal laughter. Three of them are my aunts, another is my mother, and the other three are just as loud as my family. I walked in, heard the words "hot flashes" followed by loud bursts of laughter, and decided that I'd better just head to the back room. In the back room, what do I find but Uncle Frank reclining on the couch, surrounded by pillows, and watching Prince Caspian. (that movie just keeps turning up!) He looks at me, and says "I've been treated like a king! How were the Christmas lights?" That's when I notice the plate of cheese, crackers, and kalamata olives. Also a plate that looks like it held pasta and shrimp at one point. Not to mention the plate that is holding the mint brownie. Yep, he's been treated like a king alright! :-)
So, after that, on went Leona Lewis, and then came the cleaning of the room. Yes, my friends, I sit up at this late hour with a great sense of somethingness. I've managed three starbucks in one day (and seen six more in Seattle), gotten a room cleaned, hit both Bellevue and Seattle, had a fantastic time with papa (I think we've started a new tradition) met a few wonderful people who could potentially become close friends, survived mom's dinner party, and may even end up getting some sleep tonight! All in all, one of the best days I've had all month. If you made it this far, I am quite impressed. Thanks for listening to my happy ramblings.

Of Good Tidings

2009-12-22T10:31:00.000-08:00

Obviously, there is one thing that simply must be blogged about today, and that is... (drum roll, please) Christmas!! Christmas, and everything that entails. Of course, there are the things that go along with the holiday, in a secular sense, but most importantly, the birth of Christ, which often gets lost in the shuffle. If I'd been in the service on Sunday, I would probably have much more to say, but as it was, all I heard was "So here are three points I would like to make about the significance of Christ's birth for the believer" before the nursery called. I ended up cuddling Abigail, and watching two other little ones instead of hearing what I'm sure was a fantastic, convicting sermon.

Sunday morning found us with the annual Christmas Coffee Hour, which means that instead of having sunday school, more people than usual come and partake of "good things" such as cranberry bliss bars, petite vanilla bean scones, cranberry orange scones, and, of course, Lattes! Rachel and I pack up our espresso machines, (which are not "latte machines", as some people call them) and bring them up to the church. Typically, Rachel would do the greater portion of the work, with me pulling shots, but this year things were a bit different. Mom took Rachel's place. At first, I will admit that the thought made me a bit panicky. However, she assured me that "I have been making lattes since before you were born!", which is indeed true. In fact, she was somewhat ahead of the "latte craze", and had an espresso machine long before they were popular. But apparently things have changed a bit since 1981. While beforehand, I was only "a bit panicky," by the time I looked over and saw her espresso machine quite literally spraying coffee everywhere, it had spiraled into an all-out terror. Luckily, we figured out a decent system, and managed to provide everyone with what I hope were palatable drinks. To my great disappointment, only one person wanted a caramel macchiato, so I was forced to bring home the remaining caramel sauce for my personal use. (and of course, this troubles me greatly)
All things considered, Sunday morning came off capitally.
Let's see, we've covered the past tense, now for the present...
Martha, one of my mom's sisters, is at our house with Uncle Frank, and they'll stay until Christmas morning. Tonight, mom is having one of her cackle club meetings. I know, I know, a statement like that requires an explanation, so let me attempt one. Mom and her sisters have some very close friends that they've known for years. They don't see each other very often, but when they do get together, the only word I can use to describe it is "loud." Also, words like "boisterous" and "cacophonous" come to mind. Basically, good healthy fun. Imagine seven or eight women, sitting around after a fantastic dinner. One of them says something that isn't really amusing, but the other six or seven think that it is the most hilarious thing they have ever heard. And thus, we have the cackle club. Laughter takes on a new meaning with them. In the past, my habit has been to flee for the whole evening, while papa does the same, but this year I've been called upon to make lattes for them. I'm sure that throwing caffeine and sugar into the mix will only calm them down... oh. Perhaps not. Anyhow, I think I'll stick around long enough to say hi to Aunt Michele and Aunt Sue, then I'll take shelter.

As for the rest of this week, we are following our typical Christmas traditions. Aunt Sandie will fly in on Christmas eve, and fly out on Christmas morning. We'll get together at Grandma's on Christmas Eve, then Christmas morning will belong to just my immediate family. The thought makes me smile. Family, Stockings, Babies, Quiche, Gifts, Tea, etc.

Naturally, I could go on for much longer, but I have some things to get done before the day is out. And so, I leave you with this...

Joy Unspeakable

2009-12-16T16:34:00.000-08:00

I would love to give a long, wordy explanation, but I don't feel that one is necessary. So, for once in my life, I will keep it short...

About 40 hours ago, I saw the most amazing event of my life. I watched my niece, Abigail Dianne, be born. I cried then, and tears come to my eyes now, just thinking about it. She was the first person I've ever seen born, and I can't believe what an experience it was to see someone take their first breath. Rachel did an amazing job, and congratulations to her and Nathan!

December 14, 2009
11:30 p.m.
19 1/2 inches long
7lbs, 4 oz.

"Praise the Lord, oh my soul,
and all my inmost being,
Praise His holy name!"

On feeling smothered by the surrounding worldliness

2009-12-13T19:58:00.000-08:00

Ephesians 4:29 notes: "Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers."

I think that this is the verse I am looking for. Today, I heard an excellent sermon on controlling our speech. Mostly, the sermon was referencing being careful what we say, because "how great a fire a little flame kindleth." However, hearing this made me think even more about something that has been weighing heavily on my mind recently. That is: swearing. More specifically, the fact that several Christian people I know will roll out curses with the best of them. I'm not talking about the one time in their life they swore, when they were furious and just couldn't help themselves. Nor am I referring to the occasional accidental word that slips out. I understand that people say things they regret. I also understand that it is not always easy to control your tongue, especially if you are surrounded by cursing in the workplace. What I am referring to is the seemingly un-regretted use of profanity that I have come across in some christian people in the last few days. More than once this has happened. They are in the midst of normal conversation, and will drop a casual swear word, without apology or regret. To speak quite frankly, and without any attempt at eloquence, this is what I say:
I do not get it. I don't understand it. Why do they think that it is alright? What delusion reigns in their minds that persuades them that it is acceptable to sully their language with curses?
At times, like now, I simply want to leave. Leave everyone. Everything. Go to a place where I know no one. Be unable to get in touch with people. (that may be a bit extreme.. maybe there are one or two people I would want to take with me) But you get the idea. (It's times like this when I want to travel even more than usual) I'm feeling more than slightly smothered by the worldliness that pervades even those who are supposedly different. I will say one thing, to clarify, lest you think I am frustrated with everyone I know. I realize that not everyone is doing this. I just have come across it often recently, and that is why I am blogging now.

If I was a bit more awake, and thinking a bit more clearly, I would list all the verses that I am thinking about, and all the reasons that swearing is wrong, especially in people who make a claim to Godliness. However, I am tired, and am just throwing this out.. Maybe one of you can give me some form of encouragement.

Goodbye Coffe. (Until we meet again...)

2009-12-12T00:29:00.000-08:00

I'm certain that normal people are sleeping right about now, but luckily, I've never counted myself among the ranks of the "normal". (What a relief!)
Today started out fantastically, minus a few minor embarrassments. Friend, errands, and saving someone's life were all included in the morning hours. Well, that might be something of an overstatement.... Really what happened is that I found a cellphone in the JoAnn's parking lot, and managed to return it to the rightful, forgetful owner. (I consider this to be quite the accomplishment, as it would certainly save my life if a lost cellphone was returned to me by a complete stranger)
Of course, the plans to hit Starbucks completely fell through, and I was shocked by how much that disappointed me. Therefore, I have come up with a plan, just to see if I can. (Details later)
Then, off to Tacoma to hitch a ride to the Hayes' house. After seeing Brittany and Christian off to the annual Covenant Christmas banquet, (they both looked absolutely gorgeous, I might add) (Well, perhaps I should say that Brittany looked beautiful and Christian looked handsome... There we go. ) Anyhow, after seeing them off, the phone call came. Specifically, the phone call that says, "Rachel's having her baby." After hearing this statement, the following things happened-- the movie night Heather and I had planned got postponed, and back home I headed. Now, I am at Rachel's house, where she is not, in fact, having a baby. Not quite yet... Her family and my mother are sleeping peacefully, while I restlessly roam facebook, google, and various blogs. Slight contractions are all I have to report at the moment... Hopefully by this time tomorrow evening I will have much more to say on that front. Perhaps I will have a niece by this time tomorrow! (the thought makes me unbelievably happy, despite the lethargy that accompanies blogging at such a late hour)

And now, for my Coffee plan. (which i'm sure you have been waiting for with bated breath)
Upon discovering my dependence on coffee, starbucks, and caffeine in general, (yes, I did end up getting my starbucks gingerbread latte on the way to Rachel's house) I have decided to not have any coffee for a whole week. Normally I wouldn't publish such a thing, because saying it on a blog makes it something more solid and official. Therefore, you are holding me accountable. I look to you to keep me on the straight and narrow. (For a week, at least.) Thus, I look forward to seven days of caffeine headaches, coffee withdrawals, and a general longing for Starbucks. It could be quite rough, but I am telling myself that a temporary break is necessary and hopefully rewarding.

Right now, I hear a small Gabriel-sized voice moaning in his sleep, and it reminds me of the time, and the fact that he will probably be waking me up early in the morning. So, looking forward to a morning of baby kisses and "Em, Em!", I sign off and hopefully go to bed, "with visions of a niece dancing in my head."

What Great Things (or, "my life according to Spurgeon") (Or, "an attempt at giving credit where it is due)

2009-12-09T16:55:00.000-08:00

While braving the perils of cyberspace, I came across an excellent quote, which has nothing to do with the main content of this post, except for the fact that it, too, is from Spurgeon ... But anyhow, here it is:

We cannot too often turn our thoughts heavenward, for this is one of the great cures
for worldliness. The way to liberate our souls from the bonds that tie us to earth is to
strengthen the cords that bind us to heaven. You will think less of this poor little
globe when you think more of the world to come.

And now, to get down to the "nitty-gritty", as they say.... (personally, I hate that phrase, but at times it comes in handy)

Last year for my birthday I was given a volume of Charles H. Spurgeon sermons, from the "New Park Street Pupit" series. Countless times I have found it valuable, and today is no exception. Instead of quoting or posting a link to the entire sermon, I'm trying to give a sort of background for what this post is about (I realize you may be wondering by now). Spurgeon's sermon based on Mark 5:19, which says,

"Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee."

Typically when I am blogging about something like this, I would give a long, wordy attempt at a summary of the sermon, talk about what I got from it, and what I hope you would get from it. Instead, the main reason I am referencing the sermon is because it is what prompted me to blog today. I'm not being very clear, so I'll try again-- Spurgeon preached a sermon on why we should tell what great things the Lord has done for us, so I'm going to say what the Lord has done for me recently.

Many things have been going on in my life, some good, some bad, and some a mix of both. Instead of boring you with the minute details of every situation I find myself in, I'll try to sum up the main gist of them. First of all, my sister is pregnant, and with both of her pregnancies, I've found myself terrified (nightmares and all that) of some danger to her or the baby. Do I realize that this is most likely an irrational fear? Yes. Do I know that God is in control? Yes. Yet, despite knowing both of those facts, it can be hard to stop my heart from panicking. Also, I personally am in something of a state of transition. (Again, I would go into details, but I hate to risk boring you too much, especially after you've made it this far) Some other situations have come up in the past weeks that also sometimes cause me to forget who is in control.

All of that to say this:

Throughout the past several weeks, especially the last few days, the Lord has made it abundantly clear that He and no one else is in control. My own weaknesses, failures, and fears do not in any way lessen His providence or sovereignty. (thankfully!) It's amazing to me how many things He does for us, whether we understand them or not. Often when hard or new situations come up, while I may not be questioning God, I'm also not trusting Him enough. Recently, I've been forced to trust Him. Should it take a drastic situation for me to lean on God? No. But nonetheless, sometimes I need the wake up call. It has been unbelievably wonderful to "cast all my cares" upon Him. There are hymns about that, and verses about that, but recently I've come face to face with His grace more than I have before. I'm having trouble writing exactly what I'm thinking, and for that I apologize. Sometimes things don't come out on paper the same way they sound in my head. I feel that my writing is a bit stilted this evening, and so I'm going to stop now, before I get more disjointed.

I hope that despite my lack of clarity, my point still comes across. When trials come, whether they are small daily trials, or major life-changing events, His grace is steadfast. His peace never fails. His guidance is unceasing. He is in utter and total control. He will never let us go, and no one can snatch us from His hand.

A piece or two of poetry...

2009-11-30T22:12:00.000-08:00

After my last post, which was so wordy, I felt like I should put up something a bit more lighthearted. So, in an attempt to maintain a balance, here we go....

I was going through some things, and I found these poems, and realized that I really liked them. If you don't like it, tell me... Next time i'll put up something different.

First, from Cowper...

"Contemplate, when the sun declines,
Thy death, with deep reflection,
And when again he rising shines,
Thy day of resurrection!"

And, not from Cowper, the slightly less well-written...

This time of night I think of you,
As sun melts into moon--
I'm wond'ring if you're safe tonight,
And if I'll see you soon.

I watch the sunset wash away,
I hear the music fade,
And as the colors turn to black,
I dearly wish you'd stayed.

It's midnight now, and yet I wait,
Just longing for your face,
And wishing I could speed up time,
Until your sweet embrace.

It's such a cliched song, I know,
Of longing, love, and pain,
And yet, despite it's over-use,
The meaning still remains.

Although I know you won't show up,
Or come for me tonight,
I nonetheless cry out for you--
And weep 'til morning's light.

And a cheerful one...

A Russian who danced the gavotte
On the deck of an Englishman's yacht
Lost his balance and drowned
And was buried on ground
In what's known as a Communist Plot.

And finally....

Two brothers named Wong couldn't quite
Pull off their first aeroplane flight
When their rig crashed and burned
They finally learned
Two Wongs never could make a Wright.

The Unwavering Standard... Or "Fighting the temptation to succumb to worldliness" or "Whatever happened to Holiness?"

2009-11-30T21:17:00.000-08:00

As you may have gathered from the title, I am in something of a "wordy" mood... So bear with me!

While I only know of one or two people who read this, I find myself believing that this particular post is going to be one that more people need to read. Am I on a rampage? Yes, in fact, I am. Generally, I hesitate to write while "in the throes of frustration", lest it be classified as venting. However, this time I'm breaking the rule.

Today's society disgusts me. Especially various facets of the evangelical world. (yes, I realize that's a sentence fragment, but I'm afraid I like it best that way)
What I mean by those statements is this: Permeating the lives of Christians today, we find a lack of conscience, no awareness of remaining sin, and an overall compromise that is most disturbing. Also (my personal pet peeve) there is a revolting, shallow, self-pleasing morality that many try to disguise as a form of Christianity. I plan to expand on this, but here I should pause for a disclaimer....

DISCLAIMER: In no way am I making sweeping condemnations, or saying that I am any better than any of those that disgust me. Also, let it be stated here that I do recognize that I personally have many of the problems that bother me when I see them in other people. If you know me, you know that.

Now, for slightly more specific examples of the things listed above....

Lack of Conscience.... Perhaps instead of saying "Lack of conscience" I should say "A conscience so hardened that it no longer recognizes remaining sin." There, now I'm killing two birds with one stone, because the two are so close.
More and more these days, Christians are willing to watch, do, and listen to the same things the world does. Now, before this sounds like some sort of anti-fun, anti-recreation, anti-social rant, let me clarify the things I'm referring to. These things are the filthy movies, the dirty books, and the nasty songs. So, the question is this: Where has the discernment gone? I think that discernment is a key word in this discussion.

Discernment–noun
1. the faculty of discerning; discrimination; acuteness of judgment and understanding.

Without it, we lose so much. Without it, we fall into sin easier. Without it, we are unable to exercise discretion.
Here is what I am NOT saying... I am NOT saying that the only music you should listen to is christian music or hymns. I am NOT saying that the only movies you should watch are "Sherwood Pictures" movies. I often enjoy relaxing to a secular song (maybe more than your average person does) or being entertained by a movie... But my goal is to enjoy them without compromising my standards just for entertainment's sake.
What I AM saying is this: There should be a concentrated effort to not let your mind be saturated with all the rot that so many movies and songs are covered in. It is good for neither your soul nor your mind, and will eventually affect your habits. Watching such trash does nothing to help lead you to a higher standard of holiness. Holiness is mentioned over and over again in the Bible, and should be something we strive for. Common sense tells us that an overabundance of UN-holiness will not lead to holiness in our own walk with Christ.

1 PETER 1:15, 16.

“In accord with the Holy One who called you, do you also become holy yourselves in all your conduct, because it is written: ‘You must be holy, because I am holy.’”

(2 Corinthians 7:1) . . .Therefore, since we have these promises, beloved ones, let us cleanse ourselves of every defilement of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in God’s fear.

I could go on for much longer about that, but I'm saving some energy to address the third thing I mentioned.

Self-pleasing morality disguised as Christianity.... In many of today's churches, there is an increasing trend that promotes a man-centered gospel. People like Joel Osteen and Casey Treat preach a message of health and wealth-- i.e. "God loves you SO much and he wants you to be happy and have everything you need... your best life now" In light of eternity, how does this sound? When we die, God is not going to say "All I wanted was to make you happy." No, our goal is to glorify Him, not to get as much gratification as possible on earth. Also, the ages-old problem of the "I'm a good person" mentality still exists, stronger now than ever. In fact, none of us are good people. This is another subject that I could go on and on about, but I don't really see the point in doing that at this time.... Also, i'm just about done venting, which means I have decidedly less energy to rant and rave. ;-)

But first I have to say..... I'm also frustrated the shallowness that pervades so many. There is too much of an emphasis on "following your heart." The heart is deceitful. Perhaps we should focus more on following the gospel, and seeking to be who God wants us to be-- People who have a passionate drive to serve Christ, and bring honor and glory to Him. This life is not about "finding ourselves". It is about seeking Him.

As mom said "Wow, that's a mouthful!" ... So I suppose that means I should end now, while I'm ahead....

The extraordinary witness of Sarah Edwards

2009-11-20T14:27:00.000-08:00

Sarah Edwards

This morning while I was reading, I came across something that convicted me, and I felt compelled to share.

Sarah Pierrepont, (1710-1758) was married to Jonathan Edwards, the well known theologian and pastor. Rather than describe every aspect of her life and biography, I just want to share a letter she wrote, upon finding out that Jonathan had died of the smallpox vaccine. Theirs was not an unemotional marriage, and his death broke her heart. In his words, they shared "an uncommon union." Yet, despite all the emotional stress she bore, this is what she wrote to her daughter Esther, right after he died.

Stockbridge, April 3rd, 1758

My very dear child,
What shall I say? A holy and good God has covered us with a dark cloud. O that we may kiss the rod, and lay our hands on our mouths! The Lord has done it. He has made me adore His goodness that we had him (Jonathan) for so long.
But my God lives; and He has my heart. O what a legacy my husband and your father has left us! We are all given to God; and there I am, and love to be.

Your ever affectionate mother,
Sarah Edwards

What stood out to me was how, in the darkest moments of her grief, she brought all her focus to God, and praised Him for His blessings, rather than dwell on what He had taken from her. I hope you find the value in this that I did.

2009-09-23T11:00:00.000-07:00

Occasionally, I forget that I have a blog, and it ends up with a shocking lack of fresh material. So now, I sit down to write, not because I have something to say, but out of the necessity for something new.

Currently, I have "no" life. That term can be defined in many ways, most of which are not complimentary. In my case, that simply means that I don't yet have a job, and am done with school. How does this affect my day-to-day life? In many ways, foremost among them being that I spend too much time on the computer. (Gasp!)

I could go on in that vein, and drone about how bored I get, or how much I need a job (and a paycheck), but instead, i thought I'd zoom in on the good aspects of this "lack of a life."

Being at home so much has given me ample time to focus on one thing that I need to do more often-- read! One of the books I've finished is Defending The Faith by R.C. Sproul. I chose to buy this book for one simple reason: My ability to defend my faith is very limited, a fact which I am not proud of. After reading it, these are the conclusions (Or maybe just opinions) that I came to:

1) The book is a very valuable resource, especially for a beginners introduction to apologetics.
2) Sproul covers a variety of topics, in a systematic manner that I found helpful.
3) Occasionally, he brings the human writers of scripture down to a level with both pagan and christian philosophers... e.g. "descartes said this, hume said this, and the apostle paul said this." I felt that there was too much emphasis on what the world has said about scripture.
4) It's a very educational book-- I had to read only a chapter or two at a time, to allow my brain time to process it. (but maybe your brain will do better.)
5) Overall, excellent.

Another book I just finished was a short biography on John and Betty Stam. John and Betty Stam, by Vance Christie. It's part of the History Makers series. A very easy read, I found it an enjoyable sketch of the Stam's mission work. I don't feel that Christie's style is up to par with Faith Cook's biographies, but if you are looking for a basic, solid set of facts and trivia about the Stams, this is a great book.

And, the ongoing read in my life, is a set of Spurgeon sermons, specifically The New Park Street Pulpit, v. III & IV. There is no way to describe how helpful Spurgeon has been to me, and reading a sermon of his is a wonderful way to end or begin the day.

Desiring Riches.

2008-07-17T08:52:00.000-07:00

Recently, my mind has been occupied with what I'm going to do for the rest of my life: what career, how much money, etc. Especially the latter. I've found that as I look forward to the future, too much desire for a money-making venture has influenced my decision making, instead of a desire to do whatever the Lord would have me, to do what is pleasing to Him. Obviously I don't feel that it is wrong to want financial stability wherever I end up-- it becomes wrong when that is my main focus. In addition to that realization, I found the following verse and Edwards' comments on it helpful.

Psalm 39:6 Surely every man walketh in a vain shew: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.

"Those are said to have their hearts set upon riches that have a very high esteem of them and of the happinesss that they yield, to whom wealth appears as the chief good which is sufficient to yield happiness to their souls. They have a notion, of the that are rich, that they are the happiest men, and non appear as miserable in their eyes as those that are poor and low in the world. They entertain vast expectations from riches. If tthey hope to be rich, they please themselves with imagining how much they shall be above them, and how much more they shall be accounted of and how much better a figure they shall make in the world.
Whoever imagines that happiness is to be found in anything, they set their hearts upon that thing: For all men's hearts are and will necessarily be upon happiness. There are many men in whose esteem earthly possessions and enjoyments have the place of the chief good. However they may say with the rest of professing Christians that happiness is not to be found in these things and that the enjoyment of God is the highest good, yet they are only words of course which they have been learned to speak by custom and education, and they have no sense at all of what they say, and they have a far higher notion of the happiness that arises from earthly good things than any others. Their souls are empty, and worldly enjoyments appear so big to them that they are of opinion that their souls can be filled with temporal riches.

I found this helpful to my overall outlook-- I hope you may also.

more quotes I like.

2008-03-18T17:13:00.001-07:00

A politician needs the ability to foretell what is going to happen tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year. And to have the ability afterwards to explain why it didn't happen.

I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.

-churchill

speaking of Jolly old england....

2008-03-18T17:05:00.000-07:00

We (Clark and I) leave for Great Britain in a few days, so any prayer would be greatly appreciated. For those of you who don't already know, it includes Normandy and Bayeux and Caen in France, all over England, and much of Scotland, especially Edinburgh and Newmilns. Thanks!

Regarding the videos...

2007-10-30T10:52:00.001-07:00

To all those it may concern...
Namely, anyone who watched the videos recently on my blog, I apologize. I only recently watched them myself, then sat in shock when I realized that they were NOT the ones I thought they were. The second one, in particular, I did not add to my blog on purpose... Complete accident. I only wanted the swing-dancing jitterbugs video, and the other came along with it... Sorry!!
I am sorry for the inconvenience, as I had never even watched it. I do not even know what all was on there.
Thank you for your masterly forbearance in this issue.

e.r. edwards, editor in chief

2007-10-17T16:17:00.000-07:00

Recently, I've discovered my extraordinary ability to incinerate sections of my house unintentionally. For instance, take the incident when I was ten years old. I had lit twelve tealight candles in my room, gone outside, then come in just in time to see smoke billowing out the door of my room. Naturally, my hysterical screams brought people running, and soon the fire was out, despite Clark's initial reluctance to wake up papa from his nap, even though the house was on fire. But it is not only this incident of which I speak. It was fairly inconsequential, anyhow, and once we redecorated the room, you never would have known. hmm. Just the other day, when I was burning some candles in my room, as is my custom, I smelled something that oddly resembled matches burning. And it was not the candles that were making that smell. Upon further investigation, at which I've become quite adept, I discovered, to my great chagrin, that the pillar candle burning on my tea table had burnt down considerably, and was now cascading down the side of the tea table, in a beautiful fall of molten wax. Of course I assumed that this was the smell I sought, and dismissed the incident from mind. The main inconvenience was the sizeable puddle of wax on the carpet. (Roughly eight inches in diameter, and two inches high) I still cannot get it all up. It was not until the next day, when I found the pile of ashes, that I realized I had miscalculated, yet again. In the typical fashion of mothers, my mother discovered it at the same time, and asked, with slight concern, why I had been burning paper towels on my desk. Nonchalantly, I replied, "Oh, I was just burning some old paper towels," with just the right amount of disinterest. Her response was not exactly calm, so I added, "Well, not intentionally." At which time I was forced to explain that I hadn't even seen them go up in flames, but knew the rough time that they did. Naturally, she wasn't appreciative of this information, and wondered aloud whether she should allow open flame in my room any more. Since then, I have convinced her that I am indeed safe with candles, but I'm not altogether certain she feels secure with it.
I currently seek to remedy this situation.
If any of you have good tricks to remove wax from carpets, please inform me.

A clip from Spurgeon's Expository Encyclopedia

2007-10-11T17:38:00.000-07:00

"To a believing heart, God is all purity. His light is 'as the color of the terrible crystal,' of which Ezekiel writes. His brightness is so great that no man can approach unto it. We are so sinful that, when we get even a glimpse of the divine holiness, we are filled with fear, and we cry, with Job, 'I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth Thee. Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.' This is a kind of fear which we have need to cultivate, for it leads to repentance, and confession of sin, to aspirations after holiness, and to the utter rejection of all self-complacency and self-conceit."
--Charles Haddon Spurgeon

two quotes that I appreciated

2007-10-11T17:37:00.000-07:00

Men, chocolate, and coffee are all better rich.

All trespassers will be shot on sight. All survivors will then be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Have a nice day!

A study in Incongruity

2007-10-10T16:10:00.000-07:00

In this post, I wish to explore a subject which has long puzzled me. Why do you come across people that believe they have common sense, but the more that you are around them it becomes apparent that they actually are marvels in first class idiocy, and overall lean toward moronic tendencies? In the last week, especially, I have been in contact with such people, and it has, obviously and understandably, frustrated me. But not only me. For one time in my short life, I am not the minority. A few others with whom I associate (those who are brilliant, remarkable, and full of sparkling wit) have also noted this baffling phenomenon. No, I do not stand alone in this, and I'm sure that many other intelligent beings, such as yourself, have noticed it.
Only a few days ago, I was standing in the hallway, getting something from my locker, at my excellent school, when I was nearly decapitated by some rowdy boys that were--and try to believe this-- piled on to a double decker cart (one used to transport trays or books or whatever else is necessary) and flying down the hallway at dangerous speeds, nearly killing a poor little 6 year old girl who had lost her way. The ecstatic looks of bliss and glee that had been pasted on their faces, as they flew by, disappeared after someone threw a backpack in their path. They obviously noted the impending doom, and both bailed out, just before the cart went spinning in the direction of the wall. The activity, in and of itself, actually appeared quite fun, and I might indulge in it myself, if I were a boy. Also, it provided considerable entertainment for those of us bystanders who were not in danger of being run down. But the doing of it is not what surprises me. What surprises me is that they believed that they could go flying down a hall that crowded, and expect not to mortally wound someone. They were both slightly bruised, in a physical sense only, (Their pride was well in place, despite their ungainly fall) and appeared to have really enjoyed the entire experience. Now, don't think that I blame them at all for doing it--no, I certainly found it fun and amusing--I simply wonder what possessed their brains. If the school had been vacated, it would be absolutely understandable. However it was not. This instance has been repeated since the time cited, and sometimes with less disastrous results, and often with different people (whose names will not be mentioned, for the protection of their dignity) riding on it.
But not only do people do things like that, they also make various comments, both in class and out of it, that never cease to cause me to wonder if they were repeatedly dropped on their heads as children. I cannot quote these ridiculous questions and sayings, not for lack of memory, but out of consideration for those who were unfortunate enough and stupid enough to say them. ( I have no wish to publicly sully my friend's names)
So I leave you to answer my question. Why do people fancy themselves to be clever, and suppose that they are brilliant, while their actions and statements deny the existence of any sort of common sense? Were they, as mentioned earlier, dropped on their heads when they were babies? I was, but I still turned out semi-decent. (or so I persist in believing, despite my family's vehement denial of my brain's normality) Or perhaps they have been brainwashed, by an overdose of television and soap operas. Maybe their parents simply neglected to teach them common sense. I do not know, nor do I pretend to know. Perhaps you can help me.

Persevere in Holiness, Jonathan Edwards

2007-09-15T09:00:00.000-07:00

Many, when they think they are converted, seem to imagine that their work is done, and that there is nothing else needful in order to their going to heaven. Indeed perseverance in holiness of life is not necessary to salvation in the same way as the righteousness by which a right to salvation is obtained. Nor is actual perseverance necessary in order to our becoming interested in that righteousness by which we are justified. For as soon as ever a soul hath believed in Christ, or hath put forth one act of faith in him, it becomes interested in his righteousness, and in all the promises purchased by it. But persevering in the way of duty is necessary to salvation, as a concomitant and evidence of a title to salvation. There is never a title to salvation without it, though it be not the righteousness by which a title to salvation is obtained . It is necessary to salvation, as it is the necessary consequence of true faith. It is an evidence which universally attends uprightness, and the defect of it is an infallible evidence of the want of uprightness. There such as are good and upright in heart, are distinguished from such as fall away or turn aside: "Do good, O Lord, to those that be good, and to them that are upright in their heats. As for such as turn aside unto their crooked ways, the Lord shall lead them forth with the workers of iniquity: but peace shall be upon Israel" (Psalm 125:4-5). It is mentioned as an evidence that the hearts of the children of Israel were not right with God, that they did not persevere in the ways of holiness; "A generation that set not their heart aright, and whose spirit was not steadfast with God" (Psalm 78:8) -Jonathan Edwards

I benefited from this, and hope you do.

random quote

2007-09-15T08:57:00.000-07:00

I am an optimist. It does not seem too much use being anything else. -churchill

A poem from the Covenanter's killing times

2007-08-30T13:23:00.000-07:00

Today South West Scotland is a peaceful and largely prosperous area, however there survive a large number of 'martyrs' graves, which are reminders of an altogether more turbulent past. Many are located on remote moorland, marking the spot where government soldiers killed supporters of the Covenant. Almost every corner of southern Scotland has a tale to tell of the years of persecution, from remote and ruinous shepherds' houses where secret meetings were held to castles and country houses commandeered by government troops in their quest to capture and punish those who refused to adhere to the King's religious demands.
Scotland was in an almost constant state of civil unrest because people refused to accept the royal decree that King Charles was head of the church (known as the 'Kirk'). When those who refused signed a covenant which stated that only Jesus Christ could command such a position, they were effectively signing their own death warrant. This was a grim period of religious persecution which witnessed the bloodiest crimes of the nation's history, committed by Scots against Scots. http://www.sorbie.net/covenanters.htm (the source of that info)

While my Aunt Dianne and Uncle Rich were visiting this last week, the following poem became a matter of interest in our house. It is set in the background of the Covenanters killing times.

Scottish Poetry Selection - Jamie Douglas
John Graham of Claverhouse, who later became Viscount Dundee and a supporter of the Jacobite cause, was at the forefront of what became known as the "Killing Time" as the government forces and those who supported the Solemn League and Covenant fought for supremacy. Between 1661 and 1688 it is estimated that 18,000 died both in battles and persecution, creating martyrs and lasting bitterness. Although Graham himself was nicknamed by his opponents as "Bluidy Clavers" and blamed for every atrocity, he actually urged moderation.
Jamie Douglas
'Twas in the days when Claverhouse was scouring moor and glen,
To shake with fire and bloody sword the faith of Scottish men,
They had made a covenant with the Lord, firm in their faith to bide,
Nor break with Him their plighted word whatever might betide.
The sun was nearly setting, when o'er the heather wild,
And up a narrow mountain-path alone there walked a child.
He was a bonnie, blithesome lad, lithe and strong of limb,
A father's pride and a mother's love were fast bound up in him.
His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round, his step was firm and light.
What was it underneath his plaid his little hands clasped tight?
'Twas the bannocks which that morning his mother had made with care
From out her scanty store of meal, and now, with many a prayer,
Had sent by Jamie, her ain boy, a trusty lad and brave,
To good old Pastor Tammas Roy, now hiding in yon cave;
For whom the bloody Claverhouse had hunted long in vain,
And swore he would not leave that glen, till old Tam Roy was slain.
So Jamie Douglas went his way with heart that knew no fear.
He turned the great curve in the rock nor dreamed that death was near,
But lurking there were Clavers' men, who laughed aloud with glee.
He turned to flee, but all in vain, they drag him back a pace
To where their cruel leader stands, and set them face to face.
The cakes concealed beneath the plaid soon tell the story plain.
" 'Tis old Tam Roy these cakes are for!" exclaimed the angry man.
Boy, guide me to his hiding-place, and I will let you go."
But Jamie shook his yellow curls, and stoutly answered, "No."
"I'll drop you down the mountain cliffs, and there among the stones,
The old gaunt wolf and carrion crow shall battle for your bones; "
And in his brawny strong right hand he lifted up the child,
And held him o'er a clefted rock, a chasm deep and wild
So deep it was, the trees below like willow wands did seem.
The poor boy looked in frightened maze, it seemed some horrid dream.
He looked up to the sky above, and then at the men close by:
Had they no little ones at borne, and could they let him die?
But no one spoke, and no one moved, or lifted hand to save
From such a fearful, awful death, the little lad so brave.
"It's waefu' deep," he shuddering cried, "but, oh !.I canna tell:
Sae drap me doon there if ye will, it's nae sae deep as hell."
A childish scream - a faint, dull sound - oh, Jamie Douglas true!
Long, long within that lonely cave shall Tam Roy wait for you;
And long for your welcome coming waits the mother on the moor,
And watches and cries, " Come, Jamie, lad," through the half-open door.
No more adown the rocky, path you come with fearless tread,
Or on the moor and mountains take the good man's daily bread ;
But up in heaven the shining ones a wondrous story tell,
Of a child snatched up from a rocky gulf that's nae sae deep as hell.
And there before the great white throne, forever blessed and glad,
His mother dear and Auld Tam Roy shall meet their bonnie lad.

I enjoyed this, and rather hope you did.

An intro to what may be nothing

2007-08-30T12:49:00.000-07:00

While submerged in the depths of my room, cleaning and organizing, I came across a piece of paper that informed me that I still had a blog flying around somewhere in the world of cyberspace. Immediately, I sought to find it, and I have, as you see. In consideration of the fact that anything interesting that I might have to say probably came from somewhere else earlier in my existence, I conscientiously decided to do this honestly, and mainly post items that I found either fascinating, profound, intellectual, entertaining, and of general interest. What this boils down to is : Whatever I feel like, with an occasional writing of my own.

I hope that you will enjoy what I post, and revisit often.

E. R. Edwards, editor-in-chief.