Ingrid and I are at Starbucks working on job applications. We should be commended because 1)not only is applying for jobs a somewhat tedious task, but 2) because we have had to display tremendous focus due to the fact that the song playing over the speakers WAS SUNG BY A MONSTER.
A MONSTER. REALLY.
A MONSTER WITH GRAVEL IN HIS GULLET SANG THIS SONG. Some label signed Cookie Monster and let him record an album. It is so distracting. Instead of growling "COOOOOOKIIIEEESSS!!!" he is growling "neighborhood, in the neighborhood, in our neighborhood...."
And even if it wasn't Cookie Monster who recorded this, it was definitely one of his relations. Some toothy, purple, cauldron-stirring monster (Ingrid's great and apt hypothesis-descrpition).
Anyhow, it's annoying and now I can't stop having flashback of Sesame Street. Does anyone know what the name of the song is and who it's by? I tried Googling it but all that came up were links to clips of Mr. Rogers...and get this...Sesame Street.
:( Boo.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Things Said
an selection of some of my favorite quotes
1)Annalyssa: Wade, you’re not on youtube?
Wade: No, I took a break from youtube to write my paper. Every five minutes I’m taking a break from youtube to work on my paper.
2)Andrew (in sing-song to Lion King): Oh I just can’t wait…to be done!! …or to be king. I want to be king. Let’s just be honest here…the depravity part is coming out.
Criz: So do you prefer to be called Andrew or Andy?
Andrew: So you know Gandalf from Lord of the Rings? He was called one thing by the hobbits, and then he went somewhere else and they called him something different. But he didn’t care. He was the same person.
Annalyssa: But he didn’t go by Gandy!
Andrew: If you were to go to Maine, to Waldoboro Maine, and ask them about Andy, they would say, “We know Andy!” Because they put me in the schedule at the diner as Andy. And everyone called me Andy. And I obliged them. Just like Gandalf. Only Gandalf never became king. I do enjoy the Lord of the Rings, it’s a masterpiece written by J.R.R. Tolkien. A literary masterpiece. Some people don’t like it because they say it’s boring. But once you get going, you get going.
Annalyssa: I like Lord of the Rings. (Andrew gives her high five) But the books are boring. The movies are exciting.
Andrew: You just unendeared yourself to me. I take back that high five.
3)Andrew: Taisha. Doesn’t that sound like a black girl’s name?
Criz: It does!
Andrew: It does right? But it means ‘9’ in Hebrew.
4)Annalyssa: We never were going to give our dog a person’s name. That’s against my dad’s rules. My poor dad. His uncle had a Labrador retriever that my dad would play with when he was a kid. The dog’s name was Mary. It was a boy dog.
5)David: There’s also wisdom in not liking a guy before he likes you
Annalyssa: When does that ever happen? When does that ever happen?! It only happens when a guy who you don’t even like in the first place asks you out and then you have to entertain the idea of liking him.
6)Criz: I am eating oatmeal. I am going to a women’s brunch in half an hour and I know I’m going to be hungry so I’m eating at home so I don’t take all the muffins and look like a glutton. How many muffins can you take without looking rude? Anyway, I’m basing it off that proverb about not stuffing yourself at a rich man’s home.
Oms: I always stuff myself at a rich man’s home! I stuff myself anywhere!
7)Annyalyssa: I just hate how the Catholics think Mary is perfect.
Criz: Do you think she has a uterus in heaven?
Annalyssa: Probably a golden uterus…
8)Oms: Is there a book to teach you how to not be selfish?
Criz: The Bible?
9)Criz: And then Annalyssa and I were discussing what kind of dancing angels might do. Can you imagine an angel doing the jitterbug? Annalyssa said that maybe they’d have dance moves named after angels. Like The Guardian. And then I said the Seraphim Shuffle!
Den: I wonder what the angel of death would dance…whatever it was, I’m sure he’d have killer dance moves.
10)Annalyssa: What I’m really worried about is having to be here for the tribulation. That is like the worst news ever. I’m sitting in class and I’m like, “Am I the only one here who took the Left Behind series to be authoritative!??”
11)Criz: Hey! How are you?
Dennis: How are you? (in a weird voice)
Criz: Ah! Don’t do the creepy voice!
Den: That’s not my creepy voice. That’s a pirate voice!
Criz: Oh! Are you a pirate?
Den: Yes.
Criz: Are you wearing a patch?
Den: Yes, but not a pirate patch. A nicotine patch.
Criz: That counts. Are you wearing it on your eye?
12)Dennis: I’m sitting down. You sit on the floor.
Criz: I thought you said Christians sit in chairs.
Dennis: Well you’ve been behaving like a heathen
13)D: And your teeth are so beautiful. They’re so sharp. Like a monster…”
14)C: Have you ever picked cotton?
D: Yeah, I mean I’ve picked cotton off a cotton plant. But it wasn’t fun.
C: You’d make a terrible slave.
D: I would make a terrible slave. I’d always be thinking about running away or murdering my master.
C: Would you join the Underground Railroad?
D: I’d start my own railroad. Above ground.
C: Where would it go?
D: It’d have a lot of stopping points. If I had an underground railroad I’d use it to take slaves to freedom but I’d have them give me 10% of their earning once they were free as payment.
C: So you’d wean them off slavery?
D: You can’t just go cold turkey off of slavery
15)Oms: I wonder if Vietnamese people eating dogs is like us eating cows to Indian people.
Dad: No, it has to be different. Can a cow help you hunt? No. Can a cow retrieve ducks for you? No. Can a cow be a watchcow? No.
16)Dad: Come on, Sam. Stop hauling this little wimp and go throw the ring in yourself.
Mom: He can't. He's not the appointed one.
Dad: That's a bunch of baloney. All he needs to do is go up there and throw the ring in.
17)C: Could you ever marry a murderer?
K: (thinks about it seriously) Umm…depends on who they murdered.
1)Annalyssa: Wade, you’re not on youtube?
Wade: No, I took a break from youtube to write my paper. Every five minutes I’m taking a break from youtube to work on my paper.
2)Andrew (in sing-song to Lion King): Oh I just can’t wait…to be done!! …or to be king. I want to be king. Let’s just be honest here…the depravity part is coming out.
Criz: So do you prefer to be called Andrew or Andy?
Andrew: So you know Gandalf from Lord of the Rings? He was called one thing by the hobbits, and then he went somewhere else and they called him something different. But he didn’t care. He was the same person.
Annalyssa: But he didn’t go by Gandy!
Andrew: If you were to go to Maine, to Waldoboro Maine, and ask them about Andy, they would say, “We know Andy!” Because they put me in the schedule at the diner as Andy. And everyone called me Andy. And I obliged them. Just like Gandalf. Only Gandalf never became king. I do enjoy the Lord of the Rings, it’s a masterpiece written by J.R.R. Tolkien. A literary masterpiece. Some people don’t like it because they say it’s boring. But once you get going, you get going.
Annalyssa: I like Lord of the Rings. (Andrew gives her high five) But the books are boring. The movies are exciting.
Andrew: You just unendeared yourself to me. I take back that high five.
3)Andrew: Taisha. Doesn’t that sound like a black girl’s name?
Criz: It does!
Andrew: It does right? But it means ‘9’ in Hebrew.
4)Annalyssa: We never were going to give our dog a person’s name. That’s against my dad’s rules. My poor dad. His uncle had a Labrador retriever that my dad would play with when he was a kid. The dog’s name was Mary. It was a boy dog.
5)David: There’s also wisdom in not liking a guy before he likes you
Annalyssa: When does that ever happen? When does that ever happen?! It only happens when a guy who you don’t even like in the first place asks you out and then you have to entertain the idea of liking him.
6)Criz: I am eating oatmeal. I am going to a women’s brunch in half an hour and I know I’m going to be hungry so I’m eating at home so I don’t take all the muffins and look like a glutton. How many muffins can you take without looking rude? Anyway, I’m basing it off that proverb about not stuffing yourself at a rich man’s home.
Oms: I always stuff myself at a rich man’s home! I stuff myself anywhere!
7)Annyalyssa: I just hate how the Catholics think Mary is perfect.
Criz: Do you think she has a uterus in heaven?
Annalyssa: Probably a golden uterus…
8)Oms: Is there a book to teach you how to not be selfish?
Criz: The Bible?
9)Criz: And then Annalyssa and I were discussing what kind of dancing angels might do. Can you imagine an angel doing the jitterbug? Annalyssa said that maybe they’d have dance moves named after angels. Like The Guardian. And then I said the Seraphim Shuffle!
Den: I wonder what the angel of death would dance…whatever it was, I’m sure he’d have killer dance moves.
10)Annalyssa: What I’m really worried about is having to be here for the tribulation. That is like the worst news ever. I’m sitting in class and I’m like, “Am I the only one here who took the Left Behind series to be authoritative!??”
11)Criz: Hey! How are you?
Dennis: How are you? (in a weird voice)
Criz: Ah! Don’t do the creepy voice!
Den: That’s not my creepy voice. That’s a pirate voice!
Criz: Oh! Are you a pirate?
Den: Yes.
Criz: Are you wearing a patch?
Den: Yes, but not a pirate patch. A nicotine patch.
Criz: That counts. Are you wearing it on your eye?
12)Dennis: I’m sitting down. You sit on the floor.
Criz: I thought you said Christians sit in chairs.
Dennis: Well you’ve been behaving like a heathen
13)D: And your teeth are so beautiful. They’re so sharp. Like a monster…”
14)C: Have you ever picked cotton?
D: Yeah, I mean I’ve picked cotton off a cotton plant. But it wasn’t fun.
C: You’d make a terrible slave.
D: I would make a terrible slave. I’d always be thinking about running away or murdering my master.
C: Would you join the Underground Railroad?
D: I’d start my own railroad. Above ground.
C: Where would it go?
D: It’d have a lot of stopping points. If I had an underground railroad I’d use it to take slaves to freedom but I’d have them give me 10% of their earning once they were free as payment.
C: So you’d wean them off slavery?
D: You can’t just go cold turkey off of slavery
15)Oms: I wonder if Vietnamese people eating dogs is like us eating cows to Indian people.
Dad: No, it has to be different. Can a cow help you hunt? No. Can a cow retrieve ducks for you? No. Can a cow be a watchcow? No.
16)Dad: Come on, Sam. Stop hauling this little wimp and go throw the ring in yourself.
Mom: He can't. He's not the appointed one.
Dad: That's a bunch of baloney. All he needs to do is go up there and throw the ring in.
17)C: Could you ever marry a murderer?
K: (thinks about it seriously) Umm…depends on who they murdered.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Know
Waiting for letters that don’t come,
Perhaps the mail is slow,
Perhaps they have not yet been sent,
Perhaps they have not yet been written,
Or even thought of.
Is it not foolish to expect what is not?
What will not, presumably, be?
Ah, presumably. You mock me.
Much better it would be that hope died
than that hope lived on only to cripple its host.
God, what creatures are we?
Creatures that want and long?
How very uncomfortable,
How very inconvenient.
It is one thing to want what is good,
And grief to have the good denied.
It is another to want what is bad,
And horror to have it supplied.
And to want a thing,
A thing glistening
That perhaps
Is gloriously good,
Or that perhaps
Is desperately bad
Is worst of all.
But you are good,
You are the ultimate good,
Everything good comes from you.
In my core,
In the center of my soul,
In the essence of my being,
I know that I long for you.
And in my heart,
In my emotions,
In my passions,
I know that there too,
I long for you.
And I know that I know that I know,
And I know that I don’t know at all.
And I know that you are patient with me,
And I know that you are good.
Oh my God,
MY GOD,
Dear God,
God who is mine,
Am I yours?
Are you mine?
Such conflicts of emotion,
Sort them, sort them, sort them.
You who give life in the morning,
And sleep to the weary at night,
You who sustain by the Word,
Who carry the universe in might.
And you, who have known me forever,
Will you not help me know you?
Not many years have I,
To learn before learning anew.
Enoch walked with you,
Is it wrong that I am jealous?
Jealous for what is available to me,
Jealous that he found a way,
Or that you found him,
When I cannot seem to keep on the way for very long.
Keep me Lord.
I do not understand myself
The wiseman paints a picture of the self that is so complex,
Only you could know it truly.
How strange!
To not know all of oneself,
To know only a fragment of what is one’s being!
I know more than most,
More than any other,
But the Other knows more than I.
Infinitely more.
Perhaps the mail is slow,
Perhaps they have not yet been sent,
Perhaps they have not yet been written,
Or even thought of.
Is it not foolish to expect what is not?
What will not, presumably, be?
Ah, presumably. You mock me.
Much better it would be that hope died
than that hope lived on only to cripple its host.
God, what creatures are we?
Creatures that want and long?
How very uncomfortable,
How very inconvenient.
It is one thing to want what is good,
And grief to have the good denied.
It is another to want what is bad,
And horror to have it supplied.
And to want a thing,
A thing glistening
That perhaps
Is gloriously good,
Or that perhaps
Is desperately bad
Is worst of all.
But you are good,
You are the ultimate good,
Everything good comes from you.
In my core,
In the center of my soul,
In the essence of my being,
I know that I long for you.
And in my heart,
In my emotions,
In my passions,
I know that there too,
I long for you.
And I know that I know that I know,
And I know that I don’t know at all.
And I know that you are patient with me,
And I know that you are good.
Oh my God,
MY GOD,
Dear God,
God who is mine,
Am I yours?
Are you mine?
Such conflicts of emotion,
Sort them, sort them, sort them.
You who give life in the morning,
And sleep to the weary at night,
You who sustain by the Word,
Who carry the universe in might.
And you, who have known me forever,
Will you not help me know you?
Not many years have I,
To learn before learning anew.
Enoch walked with you,
Is it wrong that I am jealous?
Jealous for what is available to me,
Jealous that he found a way,
Or that you found him,
When I cannot seem to keep on the way for very long.
Keep me Lord.
I do not understand myself
The wiseman paints a picture of the self that is so complex,
Only you could know it truly.
How strange!
To not know all of oneself,
To know only a fragment of what is one’s being!
I know more than most,
More than any other,
But the Other knows more than I.
Infinitely more.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Reality
Overwhelmed.
Are words sufficient to capture, to encase, describe, grasp?
This steady drumming of goodness- the weight of my awe.
Can man tell, in faltering, inadequate lines,
And paint even the vaguest shadow of the Almighty’s love?
What is reality then, my God?
For I tremble at whispers,
Quake at glimmers,
Am wrecked by subtleties,
And undone by dreams.
What then, my Lord, will it be to see you face to face?
The earth, the whole earth, is filled with the glory of God-
And I drink of the only good which was meant to be worshipped, adored.
I drink of life,
And love
And the Spirit testifies that I belong,
For the love of the Lord is very great.
Are words sufficient to capture, to encase, describe, grasp?
This steady drumming of goodness- the weight of my awe.
Can man tell, in faltering, inadequate lines,
And paint even the vaguest shadow of the Almighty’s love?
What is reality then, my God?
For I tremble at whispers,
Quake at glimmers,
Am wrecked by subtleties,
And undone by dreams.
What then, my Lord, will it be to see you face to face?
The earth, the whole earth, is filled with the glory of God-
And I drink of the only good which was meant to be worshipped, adored.
I drink of life,
And love
And the Spirit testifies that I belong,
For the love of the Lord is very great.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Skipping Stones
I think I skip steps,
Skipping stones.
Let me be sanctified now,
Without the purging of the dross.
Let me love sincerely,
Without taking the first awkward steps of knowing, of giddy infatuation, of misunderstanding.
Let me be aged and wise,
Without the childishness of childhood,
Without the angst of youth, the pain of defeat, and love lost.
Perseverence without trials,
Joy without suffering for the higher good,
Humility without humiliation,
Perfection without perfecting.
I want to know you without the embarrassment of getting to know you and failing.
I want to pray with all goodwill.
And I shame those joys that seem ego and selfish.
I cut out the base, the base on which one learns to love.
I want Christ without grace.
I am ashamed of needing it.
I am afraid, for it seems my self worth is tied up in my own goodness.
For I am so ashamed of failure, of being wrong...it seems I internalize my inadequacy. And so I strive for wholeness without addressing those broken, fractured pieces of self.
I run on weak knees.
Marathon on broken bones.
"I am well! I will be well! I can!" I say.
But I am broken and breaking, I must be mended first.
Mending through experience and growth, trying and failing, and trying again.
Not being so afraid of failing that I neglect trying.
I hate sloshing through the mire of my soul.
And so I sit on the bank and wave to you from afar.
But you are on the other side...
Do I want you more than I want to think well of myself?
Do I love you more than I despise feeling my own failure?
Do I want you more than I want to save face and preserve my own pride?
I want you enouh to try to love you and risk, and I want you enough to drink of your grace.
I need you more, desire to be near you more,
Desire to be broken with you,
Than to be lonely and deluded as to my "wholeness"
I will trust your care enough to depend on,
Expect, Your mercy.
I will trust your character enough to accept that I will live on your grace.
Skipping stones.
Let me be sanctified now,
Without the purging of the dross.
Let me love sincerely,
Without taking the first awkward steps of knowing, of giddy infatuation, of misunderstanding.
Let me be aged and wise,
Without the childishness of childhood,
Without the angst of youth, the pain of defeat, and love lost.
Perseverence without trials,
Joy without suffering for the higher good,
Humility without humiliation,
Perfection without perfecting.
I want to know you without the embarrassment of getting to know you and failing.
I want to pray with all goodwill.
And I shame those joys that seem ego and selfish.
I cut out the base, the base on which one learns to love.
I want Christ without grace.
I am ashamed of needing it.
I am afraid, for it seems my self worth is tied up in my own goodness.
For I am so ashamed of failure, of being wrong...it seems I internalize my inadequacy. And so I strive for wholeness without addressing those broken, fractured pieces of self.
I run on weak knees.
Marathon on broken bones.
"I am well! I will be well! I can!" I say.
But I am broken and breaking, I must be mended first.
Mending through experience and growth, trying and failing, and trying again.
Not being so afraid of failing that I neglect trying.
I hate sloshing through the mire of my soul.
And so I sit on the bank and wave to you from afar.
But you are on the other side...
Do I want you more than I want to think well of myself?
Do I love you more than I despise feeling my own failure?
Do I want you more than I want to save face and preserve my own pride?
I want you enouh to try to love you and risk, and I want you enough to drink of your grace.
I need you more, desire to be near you more,
Desire to be broken with you,
Than to be lonely and deluded as to my "wholeness"
I will trust your care enough to depend on,
Expect, Your mercy.
I will trust your character enough to accept that I will live on your grace.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Passing Notes
Lord, every day I must be reminded of your character, for as the day wears on my souls wears out and at noon you are only mostly-good, at dinner you are a kind old man, and at twilight, who are you? You are just a cosmic shadow, present only in a very unreal way.
But then you slip me a note in the mornings as we sit over coffee and oatmeal. Sometimes the note-bearer is the prophet Jeremiah, he may be the herald. Or sometimes John Ortberg brings me the note and slips it under my breakfast bowl. Or sometimes it is C.S., or Lucy Maude, or Buechner... It doesn't matter exactly who brings it; it matters that it's from you.
And so I open the note warily, unsure it will be interesting. Or I read it expecting to be bored. And every day I read it I realize what a fool I am--because it is always filled with joy! It is filled with the most beautiful words by the most beautiful mind that has ever or will ever exist! They are words of hope, of life, of remembrance. And it is like a light bulb goes off and I remember.
I remember with all joy that you are good. That you are exactly the one I have been hoping for, and that your character is all that I could ever desire. How lovely it is to remember that the one you love is lovely. To remember that the one who loves you is so truly loveable--the epitome of all hopes and desires.
So this morning John Ortberg slipped me your note, and as my eyes skimmed over letters, words, sentences, I was enlivened, overjoyed, and so grateful for you. You are everything good. What a forgetful child. Remind me always, Lord. Speak, and speak eternally.
Amen.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Notes from Morning Readings
"We must not think Pride is something God forbids because He is offended at it, or that Humility is something He demands as due to His own dignity- as if God Himself was proud. He is not in the least worried about His dignity. The point is, He wants you to know Him: wants to give you Himself. And He and you are two things of such a kind that if you really get into any kind of touch with Him you will, in fact, be humble-delightedly humble, feeling the infinite relief of having for once got rid of all the silly nonsense about your own dignity which has made you restless and unhappy all your life. He is trying to make you humble in order to make this moment poassible: trying to take off a lot of silly, ugly, fancy-dress in which we have all got ourselves up and are strutting about like the little idiots we are. I wish I had got a bit further with humility myself: if I had, I could probably tell you more about the relief, the comfort, of taking the fancy-dress off- getting rid of the false self, with all its "Look at me" and "Aren't I a good boy?" and all its posing and posturing. To get even near it, even for a moment, is like a drink of cold water to a man in a desert."
CSL, MC, p. 113-114
CSL, MC, p. 113-114
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Criz: Mom, would you rather be an astronaut or a pilgrim?
Mom: An astronaut.
Dad: Me too!
Mom: I want to see the earth and the stars.
Dad: Not me. I just want to stay alive. Half of the pilgrims died. You have a better chance of staying alive on the moon than on a boat in the middle of the ocean.
Mom: HOW? HOW? You can't even grow any plants on the moon.
---
Criz: Mom, what would you do if I got heavily involved in gambling?
Mom: I'd probably go gambling with you and win. And then you would be crying.
Paloma: Well Mom has interesting methods...Hey Mom, what if I became an alcoholic? Would you go to a bar with me and challenge me to a drinking game.
Mom: Yes. I'd probably win.
---
Rachel: There's a secret ingredient in this pizza. Do you want to guess what it is?
Josh: Your secret ingredient is always the same.
Rachel: Really??
Josh: Yeah. Vanilla.
Rachel (indignantly): I thought you were going to say love!!!
Criz: Well, the love isn't a secret.
Rachel: Actually, the secret ingredient is goat cheese.
Mom: An astronaut.
Dad: Me too!
Mom: I want to see the earth and the stars.
Dad: Not me. I just want to stay alive. Half of the pilgrims died. You have a better chance of staying alive on the moon than on a boat in the middle of the ocean.
Mom: HOW? HOW? You can't even grow any plants on the moon.
---
Criz: Mom, what would you do if I got heavily involved in gambling?
Mom: I'd probably go gambling with you and win. And then you would be crying.
Paloma: Well Mom has interesting methods...Hey Mom, what if I became an alcoholic? Would you go to a bar with me and challenge me to a drinking game.
Mom: Yes. I'd probably win.
---
Rachel: There's a secret ingredient in this pizza. Do you want to guess what it is?
Josh: Your secret ingredient is always the same.
Rachel: Really??
Josh: Yeah. Vanilla.
Rachel (indignantly): I thought you were going to say love!!!
Criz: Well, the love isn't a secret.
Rachel: Actually, the secret ingredient is goat cheese.
Superlative
Will you care for me still?
Your love is not so fickle,
So windblown in wind strewn whispers.
Your love is valiant,
A mighty, deep-rooted tree,
And I find refuge beneath its branches.
Take not the one joy of my life away,
Have compassion on this sin-sorrowed soul,
This one who has forgotten who she is,
Who has forgotten you are,
For who she is is wrapped up in you...
And to forget you is to forget herself.
Remember.
You are the only good I have in life!
This good, this joy of my salvation!
And my God, I doubt.
I know I do not know it, wholly, truly, generously.
I know it minimally.
And even minimally, it draws me and I love it,
And becaue I know it minimally, I fear it more than anything.
Why do you console me?
Why, O Good, do you offer water? My offering is vinegar.
Why do you comfort this weeping, weak one?
Why do you give the thing I want most and have refused most often,
Yourself, the Presence I long for,
The Person I push away,
The One I cannot grasp, appreciate, or love as I should?
And yet you pour down rain on us all alike,
And I am in a torrent,
Undeserved.
Your love is not so fickle,
So windblown in wind strewn whispers.
Your love is valiant,
A mighty, deep-rooted tree,
And I find refuge beneath its branches.
Take not the one joy of my life away,
Have compassion on this sin-sorrowed soul,
This one who has forgotten who she is,
Who has forgotten you are,
For who she is is wrapped up in you...
And to forget you is to forget herself.
Remember.
You are the only good I have in life!
This good, this joy of my salvation!
And my God, I doubt.
I know I do not know it, wholly, truly, generously.
I know it minimally.
And even minimally, it draws me and I love it,
And becaue I know it minimally, I fear it more than anything.
Why do you console me?
Why, O Good, do you offer water? My offering is vinegar.
Why do you comfort this weeping, weak one?
Why do you give the thing I want most and have refused most often,
Yourself, the Presence I long for,
The Person I push away,
The One I cannot grasp, appreciate, or love as I should?
And yet you pour down rain on us all alike,
And I am in a torrent,
Undeserved.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Valentine's Eve
Lord, I remember how small I am,
and forget your greatness.
My inadequacy, magnified through my perception,
dwarfs your supremacy.
I ache to be counted humble
and humble myself in my own sight
rather than yours
And I reap despair.
It is wise to think of and consider oneself
honestly
It is right to acknowledge the fragility of this vessel.
But not at the expense
of the glory within.
I am weak- but what is weakness? It is
nothing, it is a dim memory,
forgotten, irrelevant, insignificant
In light of your surpassing greatness.
I saw the Lord, high and exalted,
seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple.
Holy.
And I am restored
because you are holy
and in your strength do I find
my weakness redeemed.
The cure for self-centeredness
Pride as well as self-doubt
is in an experience of
your holiness.
Virtue cannot come from only an adequate understanding of myself.
My hope comes from an understanding, an experience of you.
And in your strength I am saved
In your keeping do I find rest
In your life is my life hid.
Fill the universe with yourself.
No wonder they cry, 'Holy, holy, holy.'
and forget your greatness.
My inadequacy, magnified through my perception,
dwarfs your supremacy.
I ache to be counted humble
and humble myself in my own sight
rather than yours
And I reap despair.
It is wise to think of and consider oneself
honestly
It is right to acknowledge the fragility of this vessel.
But not at the expense
of the glory within.
I am weak- but what is weakness? It is
nothing, it is a dim memory,
forgotten, irrelevant, insignificant
In light of your surpassing greatness.
I saw the Lord, high and exalted,
seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple.
Holy.
And I am restored
because you are holy
and in your strength do I find
my weakness redeemed.
The cure for self-centeredness
Pride as well as self-doubt
is in an experience of
your holiness.
Virtue cannot come from only an adequate understanding of myself.
My hope comes from an understanding, an experience of you.
And in your strength I am saved
In your keeping do I find rest
In your life is my life hid.
Fill the universe with yourself.
No wonder they cry, 'Holy, holy, holy.'
Saturday, January 21, 2012
A Blog About Nothing
This is going to be a do-nothing post.
I'm in Colorado again, after my two-week-wandering-stint through Texas and Oklahoma, and I brought back Steph with me. A souvenir for my travels? Much more fun to bring a friend back with you than a bottle opener.
I am sitting in the dining room with the cat on my lap. He's purring about nothing and just swatted at me with this panther-claws. I started reading Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. She has a distractingly-disturbing section in the first chapter about how her cat would knead at her while she slept. Why do cats knead? Then she tells of waking up with bloody paw prints on her nightgown. And now I am re-creeped out.
Steph and I just had tea on the front porch and watched ancient pickups, driven by even more ancient people, zoom by. It was like old times, when Steph and I would sit out and watch those same ancient trucks drive by as we talked about whatever problems plague 15 year-olds (I suspect our problems involved 17 year-old boys).
Steph just had peppermint tea and I had this detox tea I bought the other day because I heard dandilion is good for you. It tastes like a licorice-vicks-vapor-rub compote.
I couldn't find an outlet out on the porch for the record player, so I opened the window and Karen Carpenter sang to us from there."Don't you rememeber you told me you loved me, baby" keeps going through my head. I sang it to the dog, Beeya, and I think he was flattered to have "Don't you remember you told me you loved me, Beeya" sung to him repeatedly.
I want to go for a walk in the woods today.
Today I am making peanut-curry chicken.
I'm in Colorado again, after my two-week-wandering-stint through Texas and Oklahoma, and I brought back Steph with me. A souvenir for my travels? Much more fun to bring a friend back with you than a bottle opener.
I am sitting in the dining room with the cat on my lap. He's purring about nothing and just swatted at me with this panther-claws. I started reading Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. She has a distractingly-disturbing section in the first chapter about how her cat would knead at her while she slept. Why do cats knead? Then she tells of waking up with bloody paw prints on her nightgown. And now I am re-creeped out.
Steph and I just had tea on the front porch and watched ancient pickups, driven by even more ancient people, zoom by. It was like old times, when Steph and I would sit out and watch those same ancient trucks drive by as we talked about whatever problems plague 15 year-olds (I suspect our problems involved 17 year-old boys).
Steph just had peppermint tea and I had this detox tea I bought the other day because I heard dandilion is good for you. It tastes like a licorice-vicks-vapor-rub compote.
I couldn't find an outlet out on the porch for the record player, so I opened the window and Karen Carpenter sang to us from there."Don't you rememeber you told me you loved me, baby" keeps going through my head. I sang it to the dog, Beeya, and I think he was flattered to have "Don't you remember you told me you loved me, Beeya" sung to him repeatedly.
I want to go for a walk in the woods today.
Today I am making peanut-curry chicken.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
A Good Day
So today has been a pretty great day.
I went for a walk with my dad.
Walked with my sister through the snowy-slushy streets to pick up a book that had come in for me at the bookstore.
Bought a Kindle book for $3 and it is already fantastic.
Watched some movie about an Amish girl who likes to sing pop songs (the movie wasn't great, but saying that I watched a movie about an Amish-pop-singer is of infinite value to me).
Talked to three of my best friends on the phone.
Made tuna burgers and hummus.
Worked out in the basement with my sister and Jillian Michaels with only a disco ball for light.
And now I'm about to start a Back to the Future marathon!!
I went for a walk with my dad.
Walked with my sister through the snowy-slushy streets to pick up a book that had come in for me at the bookstore.
Bought a Kindle book for $3 and it is already fantastic.
Watched some movie about an Amish girl who likes to sing pop songs (the movie wasn't great, but saying that I watched a movie about an Amish-pop-singer is of infinite value to me).
Talked to three of my best friends on the phone.
Made tuna burgers and hummus.
Worked out in the basement with my sister and Jillian Michaels with only a disco ball for light.
And now I'm about to start a Back to the Future marathon!!
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