The radio and the weathermen
Mentioned winter wonders tonight.
So does everyone
Who meets another someone
On the bustling sidewalk.
We've heard it before
And been disappointed.
Still we prepare.
Milk. Bread.
Chains. Sled.
The radio and the weathermen
Mention it might begin at nine.
By eight, our noses are pressed
Against the panes like glasses
Watching the moon disappear
As the largest cloud passes,
Full -- nearly overflowing.
But risks exist of being
Disappointed yet again.
Still we wait.
Restless. Childlike.
Half-believing. Half-worried.
Outside, staring into black,
Feet planted, head tilted, hands pocketed.
A light fog blends with our steamy exhalations.
Then one white speck illuminates the entire night,
And lands like the first cannonball
Of a silent war.
A single flake
Causes the full cloud to break.
One billion shooting stars
Plunge from heaven
Onto our wet tongues
Into our moist eyes
Powdering our hair and
Tickling any uncovered skin.
"This is less disappointed
Than we've ever been!"
Say the radio and the weathermen.
They mention school announcements.
We've heard it before
And been disappointed.
Still we watch.
Open? Delayed?
Closed! Horray!
We never forecasted they would be so right!
No matter our age,
We're filled with delight and
Still we play.
Snow fight. Snowmen.
Snow angels. Snowed in.
We're soaked to our skin
Ten layers was too thin.
Holding hot cocoa, our hands tingle,
Trying to decide whether or not to feel.
The first sip is always dangerous.
But the second comes with comfort
And a heat that falls from our lips to our toes
So that each drop that follows it
Knows right where to go.
We each watch
As the last thick sip slide towards
It's redeeming fatality,
Letting millions of microscopic candy bars
Flood our tongues in melting surrender.
We fall into bed, tired and happy,
Then wake to find
The snow spent the night.
As we press our sleepy noses against the glass,
Disbelieving there is no class
And wishing the world could always seem so clean.
We could roll back in bed,
But just outside
There's a blank canvas waiting
For us to bundle tightly and begin our painting.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Changing A Valve
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:1-2
So many people are watching us -- sinners and saints, children and elders, and most particularly, our closest group of friends-- inspecting our lives as representatives of Christ. What do they see? Do they see people who have the potential to be better if only they would let go of one or two issues in their lives?
A simple quote by Olivia Crabtree says "People who try to fix their faults are special." How long has it been since we took a good, deep, scary look at ourselves, our thoughts, our actions, or our motives, and planned how to fix whatever needed repair. Let us pick our hearts apart, lay the pieces on the floor around us, and excavate each detail until we have found and solved a problem within it, put it back together and live a better life.
Why would we ever feel this process were difficult or impossible? We use this all the time to analyze other people from the outside when we don't even know how their inside looks. Just as everyone has their observant eyes on us, we also keep our eyes on other people. Why not take our hearts to the fix-it shop to get rid of things that slow us down? These mostly are things we either place before God or the things that keep us from His glorious will. Sometimes worry. Sometimes sin. Sometimes we simply hold ourselves back. Don't! Strip all those things off your heart! And if it's difficult, ask the Holy Spirit. He'll be glad to help.
After we get rid of the trash that clogs our hearts, we'll be prepared to run faster and more efficiently for Jesus Christ' cause. Nothing will be in the way of the goal of His glory. This trash-free living is called holiness. He says, "Be holy for I am holy" (Leviticus 19:2). How else can we do this except to get rid of the unholy? We can only learn by Christ's example. He "knew no sin" (2 Corinthians 5:21). Neither should we. Throw it off. Dig it out. Clean it up! Then focus only on Christ and His goals for us, His followers. All the focus, all the thanks, all the glory should be in Christ, the "author and perfecter of our faith." We aren't in this cleansing process alone. Christ writes the plan and He perfects the product. When we tear apart our own hearts to look for areas of improvement, He wants to be right beside us to guide the reconstruction process. Let Him.
So many people are watching us -- sinners and saints, children and elders, and most particularly, our closest group of friends-- inspecting our lives as representatives of Christ. What do they see? Do they see people who have the potential to be better if only they would let go of one or two issues in their lives?
A simple quote by Olivia Crabtree says "People who try to fix their faults are special." How long has it been since we took a good, deep, scary look at ourselves, our thoughts, our actions, or our motives, and planned how to fix whatever needed repair. Let us pick our hearts apart, lay the pieces on the floor around us, and excavate each detail until we have found and solved a problem within it, put it back together and live a better life.
Why would we ever feel this process were difficult or impossible? We use this all the time to analyze other people from the outside when we don't even know how their inside looks. Just as everyone has their observant eyes on us, we also keep our eyes on other people. Why not take our hearts to the fix-it shop to get rid of things that slow us down? These mostly are things we either place before God or the things that keep us from His glorious will. Sometimes worry. Sometimes sin. Sometimes we simply hold ourselves back. Don't! Strip all those things off your heart! And if it's difficult, ask the Holy Spirit. He'll be glad to help.
After we get rid of the trash that clogs our hearts, we'll be prepared to run faster and more efficiently for Jesus Christ' cause. Nothing will be in the way of the goal of His glory. This trash-free living is called holiness. He says, "Be holy for I am holy" (Leviticus 19:2). How else can we do this except to get rid of the unholy? We can only learn by Christ's example. He "knew no sin" (2 Corinthians 5:21). Neither should we. Throw it off. Dig it out. Clean it up! Then focus only on Christ and His goals for us, His followers. All the focus, all the thanks, all the glory should be in Christ, the "author and perfecter of our faith." We aren't in this cleansing process alone. Christ writes the plan and He perfects the product. When we tear apart our own hearts to look for areas of improvement, He wants to be right beside us to guide the reconstruction process. Let Him.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Today's Messiah
If the one who promised
That he would rescue us
Had come today,
Would we have chosen
A lethal injection
For lack of wood and nails?
Would a world full of desperate people
Strap their only hope to an electric chair
Instead of nailing him to a cross?
Forgive mankind
Not only the ones who harmed You
But those who continue to.
We still haven't learned
To simply receive and be grateful.
A hero who is rejected by
But still saves the endangered
Is greatly to be praised.
That he would rescue us
Had come today,
Would we have chosen
A lethal injection
For lack of wood and nails?
Would a world full of desperate people
Strap their only hope to an electric chair
Instead of nailing him to a cross?
Forgive mankind
Not only the ones who harmed You
But those who continue to.
We still haven't learned
To simply receive and be grateful.
A hero who is rejected by
But still saves the endangered
Is greatly to be praised.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Man's Best Friend
Every boy needs a dog.
My dad grew up with a German Shepherd named Buddy. They were inseparable. They hunted together, lived together, ate together, and if I remember stories correctly, Buddy was rather jealous of my mother. One of the best friendships I have ever had made a turn for it's best in middle school. My friend called me to cry on my shoulder over the death of his dog, and I realized that, at that time, even my friendship couldn't compare with that of his Golden Retriever. There's just something about the companionship canines offer.
Dogs are so faithful. If you get mad at them, they love you anyway. Boys need unconditional love.
Dogs don't have to be attractive to be acceptable. Spotted, solid, big or little, dogs are about the same -- either a good dog or a bad dog. A boy needs to learn that friends come in all shapes and sizes, but that character is what counts.
Dogs don't talk back. A dog will lie on it's stomach, prop its chin on its paws, and stick up one attentive ear as the owner mulls aloud over the complexities of the day. A boy needs a listening ear after long days of disappointments and disagreements.
Dogs are energetic. They are always happy to see you and love to run, play, and fetch. Boys need this excitement to celebrate the accomplishments that no one else noticed.
Then again, maybe man's best friend should be everyone's best friend.
My dad grew up with a German Shepherd named Buddy. They were inseparable. They hunted together, lived together, ate together, and if I remember stories correctly, Buddy was rather jealous of my mother. One of the best friendships I have ever had made a turn for it's best in middle school. My friend called me to cry on my shoulder over the death of his dog, and I realized that, at that time, even my friendship couldn't compare with that of his Golden Retriever. There's just something about the companionship canines offer.
Dogs are so faithful. If you get mad at them, they love you anyway. Boys need unconditional love.
Dogs don't have to be attractive to be acceptable. Spotted, solid, big or little, dogs are about the same -- either a good dog or a bad dog. A boy needs to learn that friends come in all shapes and sizes, but that character is what counts.
Dogs don't talk back. A dog will lie on it's stomach, prop its chin on its paws, and stick up one attentive ear as the owner mulls aloud over the complexities of the day. A boy needs a listening ear after long days of disappointments and disagreements.
Dogs are energetic. They are always happy to see you and love to run, play, and fetch. Boys need this excitement to celebrate the accomplishments that no one else noticed.
Then again, maybe man's best friend should be everyone's best friend.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Pretty Pretend
Seeing him with her might bother me
But it shouldn't
So I'll starve the envy.
The memories we made haven't faded
But they should have
So I'll ignore the pain.
My heart hasn't mended
But it should
So I'll attempt forward motion.
I really am not over him
But I should be
So I'll pretend that I am.
But it shouldn't
So I'll starve the envy.
The memories we made haven't faded
But they should have
So I'll ignore the pain.
My heart hasn't mended
But it should
So I'll attempt forward motion.
I really am not over him
But I should be
So I'll pretend that I am.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Change Of Course
I had planned to blog about this morning's sermon, and I still may on another day. However, when I got to the computer, I felt compelled to let the things I've been thinking silently spill onto your screen instead. Please forgive my mess. I promise to clean it up later.
Today was the last day of Christmas break. In the last month, God has opened my eyes to the constant physical pain that some people experience everyday. I'm only 20 years old. Those few years were not sheltered from surgeries and stitches, but I never lived with pain for very long, until this year. Suddenly, I appreciate sleep without aching and the use of my right arm. Since real pain has been a part of my life, I have gained respect for those who know life no other way. My pain is nothing in comparison to the other patients I have struggled merely to watch in hospitals and doctor's offices. Seeing them, in some absolutely horrible way, decreases my pain. Empathy is like cough syrup -- nearly unbearable, but takes away your symptoms.
If the empathy I've learned to swallow this Christmas break was my dose of cough syrup, then my friends and family members have been my spoonful of sugar. I've seen all of my closest friends around home at least once (except Trey, and Hon, I promise if God wills it, we'll get together next weekend). Spending time with them without wondering when I'll have time to write the next big paper has been a blessing. Still, it seems like I cannot be satisfied until everyone I love is in the same room. Life scatters people. Not counting my NGU friends, who all returned home for the holidays, I had friends and family in Illinois, Tennessee, Virginia, and even Iraq that I didn't get to see. Which brings me to my third and final point of contemplation from this month's hiatus. Liberty.
No, not the freedom. The University. During my junior and senior years of high school, Liberty was my first choice for furthering my education. After much prayer and turmoil, NGU seemed the best choice. When I gave up my first choice school for the most logical school, I told myself that I would reevaluate in the second semester of my sophomore year. ... That semester begins tomorrow. That causes my blood pressure to rise and my mind to spin.
Credits would probably be tough to transfer. Scholarships could be hard to find. I might not like it once I got there.
I might feel more challenged there. I might feel more right there. Maybe God gave me that thirst for LU.
How would my parents feel? Would my friends here forgive or forget me? Would it make more trouble than sense?
I wish the entire world were in my backyard. I could be with all my NGU people and attend Liberty at the same time. I could see pain and fix it. I could minister to those in Kenya without terrifying my parents. I wouldn't have to drive to another state to meet a dear friend. In a world that makes everything so easily accessed, why are people still so far apart? With so much medication, why do people sleep in a sea of illness? With so much hope to be offered, why are there looks of fear on the faces of Kenyans? With so many wonderful choices, why can I still not answer my own questions?
Today was the last day of Christmas break. In the last month, God has opened my eyes to the constant physical pain that some people experience everyday. I'm only 20 years old. Those few years were not sheltered from surgeries and stitches, but I never lived with pain for very long, until this year. Suddenly, I appreciate sleep without aching and the use of my right arm. Since real pain has been a part of my life, I have gained respect for those who know life no other way. My pain is nothing in comparison to the other patients I have struggled merely to watch in hospitals and doctor's offices. Seeing them, in some absolutely horrible way, decreases my pain. Empathy is like cough syrup -- nearly unbearable, but takes away your symptoms.
If the empathy I've learned to swallow this Christmas break was my dose of cough syrup, then my friends and family members have been my spoonful of sugar. I've seen all of my closest friends around home at least once (except Trey, and Hon, I promise if God wills it, we'll get together next weekend). Spending time with them without wondering when I'll have time to write the next big paper has been a blessing. Still, it seems like I cannot be satisfied until everyone I love is in the same room. Life scatters people. Not counting my NGU friends, who all returned home for the holidays, I had friends and family in Illinois, Tennessee, Virginia, and even Iraq that I didn't get to see. Which brings me to my third and final point of contemplation from this month's hiatus. Liberty.
No, not the freedom. The University. During my junior and senior years of high school, Liberty was my first choice for furthering my education. After much prayer and turmoil, NGU seemed the best choice. When I gave up my first choice school for the most logical school, I told myself that I would reevaluate in the second semester of my sophomore year. ... That semester begins tomorrow. That causes my blood pressure to rise and my mind to spin.
Credits would probably be tough to transfer. Scholarships could be hard to find. I might not like it once I got there.
I might feel more challenged there. I might feel more right there. Maybe God gave me that thirst for LU.
How would my parents feel? Would my friends here forgive or forget me? Would it make more trouble than sense?
I wish the entire world were in my backyard. I could be with all my NGU people and attend Liberty at the same time. I could see pain and fix it. I could minister to those in Kenya without terrifying my parents. I wouldn't have to drive to another state to meet a dear friend. In a world that makes everything so easily accessed, why are people still so far apart? With so much medication, why do people sleep in a sea of illness? With so much hope to be offered, why are there looks of fear on the faces of Kenyans? With so many wonderful choices, why can I still not answer my own questions?
Friday, January 4, 2008
Surpise!!
At the present time, I blog to present a theory that all surprises are good. A "bad" surprise isn't a surprise at all; it's a shock. And in this blog, I'm focusing on surprise.
Life brings surprises. We are all witnesses to this art of the universe. I attribute that art to the Creator. But even if you do not show Him acknowledgement, anyone can attest to the surprise of life through nature and circumstance. It was circumstance that surprised me today. I met someone completely new, and I was reacquainted with someone I've known for a long while. Both surprised me. They were things I never could have planned or imagined, but that brought pleasure and purpose.
I absolutely adore surprises. A friend of mine absolutely abhors them. Just a few days ago, I showed up at his place of employment unannounced. His initial response was more upset than uplifted. This irony is quite amusing to me.
Surprises are like candy to me. They make life sweeter. Those closest to me know I love random subjects mostly because they surprise me. As I typed this, a friend half-a-country away sent me a link to watch Japanese bugs fight. Now, am I a fan of fighting insects? Not at all. However, the complete unpredictability of this topic made me smile. I certainly did not view this Japanese spectacle, but am proud to call the sender a friend.
Surprises can come in children's faces, in new-found friends, in random subjects, and in epiphanies. We need to notice them, embrace them, delight in them, and then share them! We must tell others about our own surprises, then spark some surprise in their day. It brings the most satisfying sensation.
Tomorrow, my mother is getting a birthday gift she has no idea about. Surprise....
Life brings surprises. We are all witnesses to this art of the universe. I attribute that art to the Creator. But even if you do not show Him acknowledgement, anyone can attest to the surprise of life through nature and circumstance. It was circumstance that surprised me today. I met someone completely new, and I was reacquainted with someone I've known for a long while. Both surprised me. They were things I never could have planned or imagined, but that brought pleasure and purpose.
I absolutely adore surprises. A friend of mine absolutely abhors them. Just a few days ago, I showed up at his place of employment unannounced. His initial response was more upset than uplifted. This irony is quite amusing to me.
Surprises are like candy to me. They make life sweeter. Those closest to me know I love random subjects mostly because they surprise me. As I typed this, a friend half-a-country away sent me a link to watch Japanese bugs fight. Now, am I a fan of fighting insects? Not at all. However, the complete unpredictability of this topic made me smile. I certainly did not view this Japanese spectacle, but am proud to call the sender a friend.
Surprises can come in children's faces, in new-found friends, in random subjects, and in epiphanies. We need to notice them, embrace them, delight in them, and then share them! We must tell others about our own surprises, then spark some surprise in their day. It brings the most satisfying sensation.
Tomorrow, my mother is getting a birthday gift she has no idea about. Surprise....
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