Sola Gratia

here

2010-08-12T17:06:00.003-06:00

I am just so...happy with life today. Not happy as in laughterlaughterjoyjoy, although a little of that, but more of a peace and contentedness.

The Bible reading project--journey--is moving forward. I hit some speed bumps along the way. I've learned that if I try to start reading forty-five chapters at 1:30AM, I probably won't finish them all. I skipped a few days catching up on sleep, got hung up in Deuteronomy. But now I'm back on track and consuming great portions of the Word in a sitting, and I just feel so, so blessed. Just to have the Bible is a miracle. Its complexity, enough to study my whole life and never come to an end, is reassuring. The God portrayed therein, breathing through the words, is mighty and glorious and Love. It is good. He is good.

This month, the mp3 version of Misty Edwards' album Relentless is on sale at Amazon.com. a $5 download. I've put it on my ipod and the choruses have been running through my head a lot lately, which keeps me focused. I love it. I love my God.

I'm sitting in front of a computer anticipating doing one of the things that excites me most--studying nursing. My books are arriving in the mail, they are heavy with promise of knowledge to seek out. I flipped through my Anat. & Phys. textbook last night and I absolutely cannot wait to study again. The intricacy of the human body astounds me.

While I'm anticipating that, I'm doing the other thing that excites me. I'm editing photos, having recently had the privilege of shooting a friend's engagement pictures. Also I have some senior portraits to take next week and I'm excited about that, thankful for the opportunities and loving them. My goodness. When I finish the engagement ones, I have two sets of just my own photos to work on. Inspiration has re-awakened and I'm so thrilled.

I remember how stressed I was about choosing either photography or nursing. As it's turned out, God's lavished upon me the best of both worlds--trauma nursing as a career pursuit, and photography on the side. Which I like better anyway. His plan's being revealed and it's so utterly perfect for me and my personality that it's hard NOT to be excited. I used to think that God's will was this elusive thing that I probably wouldn't like as much as my own ideas but that I'd be obligated to follow. I thought it'd be hard to find and complicated. Actually, it was merely a matter of moving forward in life, of being close to God and making the decisions that led to peace and joy. God's plan isn't this hard, complicated task we must find and painfully maneuver our way through, squeezing our lives into the mold of God's Will. It's not like that at all. It's a matter of knowing why you were made and of walking in it; of doing the things that you're passionate about for the sake of He who instilled that passion within you. It's a matter of confidence and grace and wisdom, but not something to stress over of to fear. Because God's will is what we were made to do, and it is fulfilling that that brings joy. Just something I've been thinking about.

So I'm sitting here in the computer lab down the row from a middle-school age girl who is lipsynching to whatever's playing on her headphones--Jonas Brothers?--while shopping for school uniforms online. She smells faintly reminiscent of Polynesian sauce and it's making me hungry. I have a dollar fifty in my wallet--I've been avoiding spending money lately unless it's cash, because I REALLY WANT MY MACBOOK. But I have this dollar fifty and I'm thinking about whether I want to go get a Reese's 3 pack out of the vending machine across the hall, or save it and have a Caffe Verona, black, at Starbucks in the morning. Starbucks is winning. Thinking about the rest of the world...how privileged I am just to have a dollar fifty in my wallet and such a decision to make.

I'll go running tonight, when the sun sinks low. I've been consistently working out and generally being healthy lately, and it feels great. I get to ride my mom's old Schwinn bicycle, from when she was in college. It is one classy ride, the long curves of the frame a deep blue. I can't wait to be riding around campus, books in my basket, the leaves falling and my cardigan actually comfortable in the cool fall weather.

Judging from this week's heat index and severe heat warnings, this dream amy take awhile to come true.

I'll be back at Circle of Friends camp this weekend. I was thinking the other day about how much I've grown and how much has changed in my life since August camp last year. I feel like I've gotten to know myself this year, grown comfortable in my own skin. I've learned crazy huge lessons, walked through some difficult times, and I have known joy. I'm embarking on a new journey in...let's see...one week. :) College is going to be amazing. It's going to be hard and complicated and crazy and weird sometimes, but that's life and overall it's exciting.

I am loved and I am happy.

change your life in thirty days...Holy Spirit edition

2010-07-27T22:39:00.004-06:00

forget magazines, weight-loss or healthy living or good relationships or self-help or motivation.

Our God is greater!

At the beginning of senior year, I thought through some things I wanted to accomplish before I went to college. One of these was to read through the entire Bible. This is a long story, but I'll make it short because I have forty chapters to read before I go to bed. :)

On Sunday, that goal "randomly" entered my thoughts. It was God. I checked the calendar and realized that in exactly thirty days, I'd be starting college.

God even knows I have a thing for nice even numbers :)

So I divided up the chapters and realized I'd be reading forty a day, without missing any days, if I were to finish on time. And I am.

God laid this on my heart, and He's going to do it in me. I could say it was me, since I'm doing the reading. But it is He who's given us His Word. It is He who's given us eyes to see and a heart to understand. It is He who laid this goal on my heart in the first place, and it is He who brought it to mind again at exactly the right moment. It is He who's growing me in maturity since the last attempt to push through the Bible and it is He who's graciously shown me how to succeed, this time. I'm reading in order so I don't subconsciously save the less interesting books for last. Although when you're reading forty chapters a day, Leviticus and Numbers aren't so formidable. They end quickly. :)

It is He who gives me the strength to do this. It is He who put this stubbornness in me to succeed this time. It is He who reminds me, and it is He who helps me.

I could say it's me, but that wouldn't be true at all. I just listen and trust and obey.

And it is He who gives me joy.

I'll post the books as I finish them.

Genesis.

One of my favorite stories in Genesis is that of Joseph. Everything seemed to go wrong for him: his brothers hated him, they sold him into slavery, he was unjustly framed by his employer's wife and imprisoned. And then forgotten.

What commands my attention is his constant acknowledgement of God. I circled every time in my Bible, and there are eighteen circles between ch. 40-50. Joseph continually directs the attention, the praise, the glory to God and away from himself. And God gave him favor, and people recognized it. "And Pharaoh said to his servants, 'Can we find a man like this, in whom is the Spirit of God?'" (Gen. 41:38)

It's humbling to see Joseph's constant acknowledging of God's supremacy and his own smallness. So often I don't even think about how little I do is really up to me. It could be tempting to say, at the end of the thirty days, that I just pushed really hard and stuck with it and never gave up, and that's how I managed to read through the whole Bible in thirty days. But that wouldn't be true at all, because when all is said and done, I only chose to obey. And God worked this in me.

to ponder

2010-07-14T22:10:00.006-06:00

I feel like sometimes in our reaching for outer beauty, we miss or forget the beautification of our hearts.

There's more to beauty than what we can see.

I always make time to get my outsides ready before I go anywhere in the morning. I shower. I iron my clothes and change out of my pj's. I fix my hair and do my makeup. I feed my growling stomach.

But I don't always make time to get ready inside, and to let Jesus prepare my heart.

Just something I'm thinking about.

These words, I love. I have some parts...the bold ones...stuck to the inside of my bathroom cabinet, where I can read and ponder them often.

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.

For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.

People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed; never throw out anyone.

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.

The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives and the passion that she shows.

The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years.

--Sam Levenson, often quoted by Audrey Hepburn. Emphasis mine.

words and happiness

2010-06-25T23:34:00.007-06:00

I went to the library the other day and checked out three books.

I hadn't done this in a long time, because I had a fine and didn't feel like paying it for awhile. Because this wasn't just an ordinary fine. It was a $14.50 fine because last time I went to the library, I kept my two books thirty days past their due date, completely by accident.

One of my best friends and I are driving around downtown one afternoon, and he asks if I ever go to the library. I pop out some kind of excuse like “I used to, but I've been so busy lately,” but then I feel lame and tell the truth.

“Actually, I don't go because I have a fine I don't really feel like paying right now. I'm going to take care of it when I get a job and have some extra money.”

Andrew looks over at me. “How big is the fine?”

“Fifteen dollars,” I said. I'm pretty sure I'm blushing. I mean, who has a fifteen-dollar fine at the library? I do.

He turns around the vehicle. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“We're going to take care of your library fine.”

And I'm nearly speechless. This is so unexpected. I've never had someone want to pay my library fine before. Buy me dessert? Yeah. But a library fine? That's another matter entirely. We pull up to the front, and I finally say, “You don't have to do this, Andrew.”

“I know,” he says, “I'm just in the mood to do nice things for people.”

I smile and shake my head. Words fail me, again. We walk into our library. Don't get me wrong, I love libraries and I love the books in them. But our local library is a little...different. We don't have librarians, they're representatives. And almost all of them are cold and stern. Many of them are in fact formidable. And when you want to check out a book, you stand before the long circulation desk with a cold marble counter where four prim, unsmiling Representatives check out books and sternly peer over their bifocals if you make too much noise. You wait on the marble circle beneath the ceiling dome that amplifies your every whisper, near the sign that says, Quiet Please! This Is A Library! And there you “wait for the next available representative.” Yes ma'am.

So we walk in and wait beneath the austere dome before the austere librarians and wait, until we are called over by a Representative dressed entirely in a most unsavory flavor of green, somewhere between lime and olive. She looks over her glasses as Andrew states our purpose in coming. “Hello, I'm here to take care of a fine she doesn't feel like paying.”

Thanks, Andrew.

Ms. Representative raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. She requests my library card, which of course I don't have with me, since I haven't carried it in months and I certainly didn't expect to be coming to the library. I explain this to her, and the corners of her lipstick mouth turn down. I offer her my ID and suggest that perhaps she could access my account this way instead. She sighs, shakes her head, and says, “Well, I'm really not supposed to do this, but since you feel like paying, I will.”

So she accesses my account, Andrew pays the fine, and then, since I've turned eighteen since I've been to the library, she makes me renew my library card and sign a contract. Reading it, I learn that the library policies have changed and that fines go straight to the city collections agency.

That's probably my fault.

I sign the slip, retain my carbon copy, and then Andrew points out a sign on the cold marble countertop which strikes us both as funny. I almost snort, trying to stifle my laughter, but that domed ceiling neutralizes my efforts, causing the corners of Ms. Representative's lipstick mouth descend yet further. She glances up from the computer screen where she's entering my information, and I pretend to have very bad allergies. She ignores it and continues pecking out the words on her keyboard, using a single index finger with a long, acrylic fingernail, intently scanning the keyboard for each letter before poking at it. That aggressive fingernail makes kind of an eerie clicking sound. She states that we've gotten stuck with the slowest typer in the library. I don't doubt it. But finally, she finishes and hands me my shiny new library card.

We leave the library. Cold, gray, and strict it may be, but it holds a wealth of treasure in books and Andrew's once again given me the key. It's hot outside, but it feels wonderful. My chilled toes thaw and I break into a grin.

Thanks, Andrew.

I've been mystified about the scenario ever since. I mean, who pays people's library fines, just to be nice? Andrew did that for me, and it was unexpected and wonderful. Honestly, that fine wasn't that big of a deal, and I could have scraped up the money and paid it myself. But realistically, I wouldn't have made that happen for a long time, and now I don't have to worry about it at all. I can enjoy the library again, thanks to Andrew. I'm now a welcome patron instead of a frowned-upon teenager, and I have access to the wealth of words housed here, waiting for me. I feel like a little kid on a Saturday afternoon again, but better, because I'm now old enough to venture beyond the children's section and I understand the vast amount of information at my fingertips. And I don't take the library for granted anymore.

So walking through the library doors the other day, I rub my shiny new card between my fingers and remember Andrew's extraordinary kindness. That is how I want to be, I think, and I smile at the memory as I walk into a building full of words and happiness.

i hereby declare

2010-04-11T13:39:00.004-06:00

hey. hello. how are you?

so i've been thinking about being eighteen. it's an awesome place to be.

i feel so young and yet so old...i remember being about eight or nine and thinking that college students were just SO GROWN UP AND ADULT. now that i'm almost here, i know we're not. and in a lot of ways, that's a good thing.

so i've been thinking about high school ending, and college starting, and growing up. i don't know, in a lot of ways i feel like i've just gotten high school figured out, and now it's ending. but you know what? that's ok. this year's been really good; i've learned so much and grown so much and felt so much joy. and just because high school is ending doesn't mean that those experiences go away. they come with me and shape who i am, as i go to a new place with new experiences and lessons and joy. and that's exciting.

but as my life is changing, i'm realizing there are some things i want to change about me, too. i want to live intentionally, which is kind of a vague concept, but i've been thinking about it a lot lately. for me, living intentionally means sitting down and thinking about my life and i--who i am, what i want, where i'm going. and then taking steps to get there. it means not just going with the flow--it means knowing what i want to do or be and then taking the steps to get there.

so i hereby declare this Purpose Week. i want to take the time to figure these things out. so this week, i'm going to sit under a tree with my journal and a pen and think about what i'd want you to say about me at my funeral. i'm going to open up the drawers and closets in my brain and shake things around and figure out what i really care about, and what i need to let go. i'm going to ask God lots of questions. and i'm super excited. my goal is to come out of the week with a brief list of phrases that define who i am and how i live. this week is going to be devoted to figuring that out, and after that, it's baby steps, one week at a time, in order to get there.

one big thing i've been learning over the past two years is to let go of perfectionism--to let myself be who i am, and to embrace IMperfectionism. if i was perfect, not only would everyone hate me, but i'd be boring. if i was perfect, i wouldn't need Jesus, and i need to need Him. if i was perfect, nobody would be able to see the amazing things that He's done in my life, and the ways He's been made visible through my flaws and inabilities. i've gotten a lot better at this, but sometimes i'm still to hard on myself. so i'm learning to loosen up. yes, flossing my teeth is important and it makes me feel good, but is it REALLY that big of a deal if i skip a night here and there? nope. it's not worth it to stress the small stuff. homework and grades are important to me, and i do what's necessary to maintain them. but sometimes, talking with a friend who needs me is more important than finishing a worksheet that's due tomorrow. and so i'll choose that friend. but i still get good grades. i think it's all about balance. so that's what i'm trying to achieve--enjoying imperfections, not stressing the small stuff, and living a balanced life.

this is why i haven't capitalized much in this post. i'm not stressing the small stuff. hahahaha. if i want to type without capitals, that's not going to hurt anybody. so i'm not going to freak out, i'm just going to do it. because i can, you know. =D

And now I'm going to have to go back to proper capitalization rules, because leaving out capitals, while fun, requires entirely too much thought. What I want to do this week is not about being perfect. It's about taking the time to think and writing stuff down, because I'm one of those people who needs things to be put on paper. And then it's about living in forward motion, about being who I want to be, who God made me to be, and wholeheartedly living the life that God and I are creating. Because THAT's the life I want to live--the one that He's given me, in the best way I know how.

Something God's been teaching me lately is living with my whole heart. This is a big part of that. I'm discovering what it looks like. This is a section from my journal about a wholehearted life:

"God is huge, and I am His. I feel Him stirring me to set aside normalcy and set aside distraction and just go, go with Him. I'm reading Through Gates of Splendor, and I keep coming back to Jim Elliot's words:

"Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God."

"I see this as God giving me permission to hold nothing back. It's a ticket to adventure. It's the opportunity of a lifetime, in the truest sense. It's an invitation to a vibrant, passionate, overflowing life. It's joy, it's risk, it's passion, it's adventure, it's pain, it's grace, it's love like crazy. It's real-deal authentic life, and it's imperfect, messy, and rough around the edges, but there is joy seeping through the cracks and glory splattered everywhere. All this for a King."

All this for a King.

clean

2010-03-02T08:40:00.004-06:00

My room is clean, clean for real. And I absolutely love it.

I've been struggling with keeping my room clean for at least six years now. It just hasn't been a priority, and so my room has usually been a huge mess--not that it was dirty, I just didn't put things away, especially clean clothes. I had an empty closet and piles everywhere. I don't like my room messy, I just haven't made the effort to clean it up. Until now, that is.

A few weeks ago during our weekly prayer meeting, God laid it on my heart to clean my room. I was a little skeptical initally. But I'd been praying that He would clear out my heart of all the distractions and little things that keep me from Him, and He was giving me a practical way to begin drawing near to Him, even though I didn't understand how it would help. I felt like God was saying, "This is a victory I want you to have." And if I was going to draw near to Him, I felt that this is what I had to do--not for me, but for Him, because He said to.

From my journal: "And this is how I start. For real. I guess I've just always seen my room and its vast mess as a side thing, without any bearing on my soul. But now it's become spiritual. And this is practical; this is where I can take those first practical steps in my journey of packing-up-the-tent-and-not-settling-anymore.

"And this is what I know. I can't do this alone. I can make a really awesome start, I'm super at those. But without You, it falls flat. Really flat. I need You to do this in me, I need the strength and endurance and vision...as I clean my room, clean my heart of anything that is worthless, anything not usable by You. Make room, make a lot of room, for the great and mighty things You desire to work. Open my eyes to the direct correllations between my room and my heart. Teach me what YOu want me to learn, and clear me out, help me clear me out, for what You have for me."

So I started to work, and I prayed for a metaphor--that as I cleared out my room, God would clear out my heart. Cleaning my room took me awhile. I wasn't super consistent. But now, finally, it's clean.

This is something I have been trying to do--and failing--for years and years.

God's given me victory.

And I am free.

My room is clean, clean for real. I absolutely love it. I feel open. I feel that like my room, my life has grown airy and spacious. I feel so much more clear-minded, that I'm able to do the things God's placed in my heart and my life. Not on my own of course; always in His grace, but I am more settled and rested and mentally available for what He would do.

For years, the door to my room has been closed, and the shades have been pulled. The mess has been so great that I've felt the need to hide it; and that's an embarrasing confession to make, but now I am free. Now my windows are open to the light, and my door is almost always open. Every time I pass it, I smile. My parents pause in wonder. It's a small miracle. I feel that like the door to my bedroom, the doors to my heart are flung wide open to the light and to what God would do in me.

I guess I just did n't realize what a huge source of stress my mess was. I knew it stressed me out, but now that it's gone I can see its immensity. Clutter was draining the life out of me. And now that it's been removed, I sleep betterm I breathe more easily, I am able to be at rest, I feel more alive than I've felt in ages, and I feel released, to be who I am and where I am.

God knew what He was doing when He told me to clean my room. I didn't own my stuff; my stuff owned me, and that is really sad. But no longer. This is not something I'm talking about, I'm not commiting to a change here, it's something that's already been changed. By God's grace. And that grace is beyond abundant.

I Am Thirsty Photos

2010-02-22T08:37:00.004-06:00

Photography is something that I have loved for a very long time. When I was really young, my parents would buy me disposable cameras, and I'd take snapshots of flowers, sunsets, small animals, everything. Once I was given a point-and-shoot digital camera by a friend (a HUGE blessing), I became interested in learning photography.

I've done plenty of reading, but I've never taken an official photography class. Learning photography has been very much something I've done on my own, and I'm glad for that. I have loved the experience. I'm glad that nobody told me how to acheive selective focus; I figured it out for myself. I'm glad I learned to edit photos myself, without someone telling me how they thought I should do it. [This, by the way, is my photo editing philosophy: Photography is an art, and editing is an art, and if you can do them both well, you can make a masterpiece.] I love that I've been able to simply learn whatever interests me, whenever I feel like it. And a lot of what I've learned has been through experience. Learning photography has been such an adventure; I've come a long way but I still have so far to go. And quite frankly, that excites me.

I considered majoring in photography for quite some time. At this point I feel like I need to be in nursing, but photography is most likely something I will do for the rest of my life, even if it's not a major. I feel like it's more about your skill level than your piece of paper, anyway.

This year, I've been feeling more competent in my photography. I am by no means even remotely close to being professional, and honestly I don't know that I want to be a "professional photographer." But I've been feeling more and more confortable with using the things I've learned, and I itch to take photos. Sometimes I get so excited about a new photo idea that I have to stop thinking about it, or I can't sleep at night.

I've always wanted to photograph a wedding. I love weddings as much as any other girl, and I've always thought that to photograph one would be not only a great accomplishment, but a wonderful experience. Last month, I had a message on my phone saying that one of my neighbors had mentioned my photography to one of her friends, who recommended me to a lady in her church that's getting married this April. So I checked my calendar and called the lady and we met at Starbucks, had a nice talk, and we signed a contract for her wedding photos.

I'm going to be her wedding photographer.

I am so crazy excited.

It's been so incredible to see how God's giving me photography opportunities. I haven't marketed myself at all, other than posting photos on my website, which is:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/i_am_thirsty

And yet people are calling me and asking, and it's been great. This makes me smile--I had rather a difficult time for awhile, trying to decide whether to focus on photography or nursing. God clearly led me to pursue nursing, and while I'm moving forward in that, enrolled in the nursing program at LeTU for next year, He's giving me opportunities to do photography, too. I feel His smile. I needn't have worried...He is good. =)

Oh, about the title...my photography name. more on that later.

hey hey hello

2010-02-11T17:13:00.002-06:00

well, it's been forever again....

my life is really exciting to me right now. Since I last posted, God's done some crazy awesome things and given me some crazy awesome experiences. Here's a quick summary:

I've been accepted to the Nursing & Health Science program at LeTourneau University for next fall. =D It's been amazing to me how God has worked this out and how He's showing me that this is right where I need to be. =)

I've been doing a lot of photography, and I'm really excited to say that I've been asked to photograph my first wedding. It's a huge milestone for me.

I've finally really learned to write thank you notes, and while I used to hate it, I really like writing them now. haha it's a life lesson.

I have great friends, I really do. I'm so blessed.

I am completely and overwhelmingly loved by God. and He's huge. =)

This is just a really exciting time in my life...being a senior, getting ready to graduate, growing up I guess. And I'm loving it. =D

happy saturday

2010-01-09T14:39:00.009-06:00

today I woke up to make a call which resulted in the delightful prospect of no work, and so I slept in and had lovely dreams in my warm, sunny room. When I woke up I turned on A Fine Frenzy music, "So softly, rain against the windows and the strong coffee warming up my fingers in this fisherman's house..." I made myself an omelette for breakfast; I read a cookbook by Jacques Pepin and Julia Child and learned how to make them right. I used to make them a lot and they would always end up like a thick pancake that usually wouldn't stay folded, but Mr. Pepin explained how to make them roll properly. This omelet was exquisite. I didn't take a picture because my camera batteries are dead and I was more interested in eating it. =) I've always wanted to be able to make good omelettes, and now I'm getting there. Here's a little video of Mr. Pepin sharing his secret. I didn't use all the same ingredients as he did, but the technique worked perfectly, and it wasn't hard, and I was so pleasantly surprised with the perfectly rolled omelet that landed on my plate. Here is the video link for you:

Jacques Pépin Shows You How to Create the Classic French Omelet

My skin has been super dry due to all the climate changes I've experienced while traveling over the break. This is what I do to fix that, and it works really well for me: I put about a cup of salt (or sugar when we're low on salt) in a plastic cup. I bought a little tub of solid shea butter at a health food store awhile ago. It wasn't that expensive, and I melt a couple tablespoons of that in the microwave and stir it into the salt with a plastic spoon (I heard that some oils react with metal, and I use plastic so I never have to find out whether or not what I'm using will do that), and then I add just a few drops of lavender oil to make it smell pretty. Lastly I put in just enough olive oil to barely moisten all the salt. There's a salt scrub, and if you use it in the bath or shower, the salt will slough away dead skin cells, while the shea butter and the olive oil moisturize and make your skin feel like silk.

has she gone on Holiday?

2009-11-27T18:21:00.004-06:00

ahh, Chicken Run. this is one of my favorite quotes, this and the one where the hen almost dies and she says, "I saw me whole life flash before me eyes...it was really borin'." Ha, I love those classic childhood movies.

I feel like I've been on Holiday from my blog, albeit unintentionally. Guess what? I'm going to start blogging again.

The reason for my lack of posts recently is that school has been overwhelming, and so often I don't really have anything to say because of that. School takes a lot of time, energy, and thought; and sometimes I don't have much left for anything else. And I'm tired of letting school run my life like that. It wears me out, and I miss out on so much life.

In general, I like school; it's just that sometimes it can be overwhelming, and I haven't really done a very good job of managing it so it doesn't get to that point. This week of holiday has given me time to reconsider my modus operandi, the way I function--and I'm making positive changes. God has given me grace and eyes to see what needs to change, so that I don't get to that place of exhaustion.

And I'm in a good place. Because He is good to me.

what Kenya smells like

2009-11-23T14:11:00.004-06:00

I napped today, unintentionally, and after awhile I went to the kitchen to find dinner. I had just finished peeling a large grapefruit when Dad walked in, followed by Booker T., Dad's Kenyan student and a good friend. Dad announced that he wasn't going to work out after all he was going to dinner, and Booker T. said we were invited to come eat Kenyan.

I abandoned my grapefruit and got ready, hurriedly, and went with Dad and Booker T. to the land of the unknown. As we neared the house, on an unforeseen adventure, as it were, Booker T. exclaimed oh, I smell Kenya. And so did I. We took off our shoes at the back door and walked into a house full of LeTourneau students and delectably spicy foreign aromas. Some of the people who grew up in Kenya had prepared dinner, calling their moms for the authentic recipes and getting them to send the necessary spices.

And we were indoctrinated into the mysteries of Kenyan food, and it was unbelievable, in the best possible way.

Booker T. was delighted to be not only eating Kenyan, but playing tour guide and tutor. He thoroughly explained what everything was and how we ought to eat it, and was quite encouraging as we attempted to do so. We ate beef stew and ugali, which is thick cooked cornmeal, greens and tortillas, ditching the flatware and scooping it up with our fingers, sopping up the juice with ugali and licking our well-flavored fingertips. I paid attention to the tutorial and so ate it like a Kenyan would have, albeit less skilfully, but was nonetheless congratulated on my skills at eating soup with my fingers.

I achieved the impossible; I ate soup with my fingers. It's rather sad that I have been so thoroughly ingrained in my American notions that I find forks and spoons absolutely necessary, and that the notion of spoonless soup-eating never even crossed my mind as a possibility. Thus it was refreshing to do something so completely different than anything I'm used to doing.

The food was incredible, well-spiced and aromatic, with bold, sweet chai and mandazis to go with. I haven't eaten so well in ages. My mom is quite a good cook, but this was incredible. Hours later, I'm still quite full, and though my hands are washed, on my fingers lingers the smell of Kenya, warm and spicy.

passion awakens

2009-11-23T13:48:00.007-06:00

an essay I've been trying to write for two years. It's finished now, finally, and I'm happy with it. Enjoy.

Passion Awakens

It is Monday night, and I am, as usual, at orchestra rehearsal. We are practicing Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, and it is finally coming together. Entrances happen, difficult bars are played impeccably, and the melody holds its own as the harmonies and sub-melodies dance around it. Our parts are becoming a whole, and a recognizable version of the 1812 resounds through the building.

This is my tenth semester to play flute in the Longview Area Youth Symphony Orchestra. Each concert season, one piece captivates me. It transcends my mind and moves my heart, and as the melody is woven, it swirls right through me and comes out again, leaving me wide-eyed, amazed. This season, that piece is the 1812 Overture. Every time we play it, I marvel at its complex unity. It takes my breath away. Tonight, as we near the climax, I breathe warmth into my flute as my fingers dance perfectly over the keys, and music lives. My melody soars, and as I come back down from the realm of angels and rejoin the symphony, warm tears unexpectedly slip from my eyes, blur my vision, and delicately splash on my lap; and I remember...

As a nervously hopeful sixth-grader, I had never played in a musical ensemble; thus, my LAYSO audition was a step into uncharted territory. The orchestra director sat behind her desk, an emphatic woman whose short, dark hair contrasted sharply with her skin. I stood before her shaking and attempted to play my piece, but I fumbled through the beginning, and she stopped me. I was sure that I had blown my chance. But then she asked me to sightread, and I mustered up my courage and played as best I could. Mrs. Makowski leaned forward and spoke words I will never forget: “You are the woman!” And she wanted me to play in her orchestra. I rode home in a euphoria of delight. And so I came to rehearsals, received the hardest music I had ever seen, and flew by sheer adrenaline and the seat of my pants for the first two semesters.

“Miz Mak” has an intense personality, and that intensity was reflected in her conducting. She didn't conduct by merely flicking the baton—she threw her body and soul into it. Miz Mak chose professional-level pieces, light-years beyond anything we'd ever play in band, far more arduous that anything we'd ever laid eyes on. And she fully expected us to be capable of playing those pieces with excellence.

Over the years, I struggled through various musical phases—I'd go from being invigorated and excited about the music to avoiding it, and back again, and eventually I came to the point of wondering whether or not music was worth the time investment. Miz Mak was the one who got me through that. Whether I was currently motivated, frustrated, or apathetic, she loved me, evidenced not only by her huge, tight hugs, but also in the way she spoke and acted. Her great love made me more receptive to her great and positive influence.

Her passion for music and for teaching it helped me understand music more fully, that it lives and breathes, vivid with meaning. Her high expectations and firm confidence in our abilities were catalysts for my growth in skill. It is she who has fostered my heart connection to music. It is she who has imparted to me the truth of Phil Smith's quote: “Music is not just the black dots on the white paper—it's what happens when those black dots on the white paper go into your heart, and come out again.”

It took me years to know the truth in these words, and I still don't understand why some pieces move me deeply, resonate in my heart and become a part of me. Yet through my time in LAYSO, I've been awakened, to music's beauty and depth and value. I've learned that it is far deeper than an arrangement of marks on a page and their corresponding pitches. Music is one of God's most exquisite creations, a language that speaks to hearts, regardless of differences in culture, race, and circumstances, and Miz Mak opened my eyes to this truth.

Miz Mak pushed us harder than many of us had ever been pushed before and loved us from the bottom of her heart. When we doubted our abilities, she believed in us and helped us to eclipse our perceived limitations. And so, we did. We played pieces we'd never dreamed of touching; we achieved far beyond anything we thought possible. Miz Mak, a gift from God to all of us, no longer lives in the area; yet her legacy is indelibly imprinted upon the hearts of her LAYSO students and expressed in the music we now create. Music is irrevocably entwined in our lives, enriching us, inspiring us, allowing us to transcend ourselves and the mundane dailyness of life. That is what I realize, this night.

And as we play the 1812, my eyes overflow with liquid joy, for the majesty is too large to hold within me. Although my vision blurs, I keep playing, for the music is not so much on the page as it is, alive, in my heart—and the glory of the 1812 rolls on through the night.

hey

2009-09-28T22:21:00.004-06:00

I'm blessed beyond all measure and I don't deserve it at all. It's God's crazy grace and it knocks my socks off.

My life makes me smile a lot right now. =)

sleepy

2009-09-18T20:48:00.001-06:00

I've been tired lately. The first two weeks of school are usually a big adjustment for me--between getting back into a normal schedule, waking up early, and learning how to juggle homework for all my new classes, I'm pretty busy, and I don't get a lot of sleep. Also, I went to camp this weekend (photos forthcoming), and at camp I work hard and don't sleep much, but I still have to go to school the next day. As you can imagine, I've been pretty wiped out lately.

Last night God and I were talking about it. [I'll clarify--when I say this I usually mean that I'm telling God about whatever's going on, and He speaks back to my heart either through the Bible, or through clarifying something in my heart or putting an impression of His words there. I often tend to say that "God and I were talking about something," so now you know what I mean by that.]

Anyway, I was telling Him about it and He showed me one of the benefits of being utterly exhausted. When I 'm tired, I'm not very strong. I get emotional inside, even when it's not obvious outside, and sometimes I'm at a loss to even understand why. My patience runs short. I don't have the energy to do things. I tend not to care as much, to not be as passionate. This is just because I'm worn out. I lose my capability to deal with life well.

And when I find myself in that place of weakness, I start understanding what I truly am. I am a small, incapable, and needy human being. When I'm not able to just handle life, I realize my own wretchedness and frailty, and that causes me to realize how much I need a Savior. And that's not a bad thing to realize, because He is all-sufficient, and His strength is shown through my weakness, and His strength bears me up.

Yesterday, He took care of two things that had been stressing me out. I thought I'd simply have to deal with them, but He resolved the problems I was facing, and then turned them into joyful situations. It amazes me, how God not only saves us, but desires to be intimately and intricately involved in our lives. He's so overwhelmingly good to me. I am blown away by His vast kindness and tender care.

an adventure, my heart, and a social experiment

2009-07-20T20:47:00.010-06:00

Over the past fourteen days, I've had the joy of being in a musical at a local children's theater. I played the part of Zhang, an ancestor, in Mulan Jr.

The adventure officially began with my audition, which included performing a monologue and singing a song. The singing part was definitely a huge step out of the box for me. I got a little nervous and my knees started shaking, which was pointedly embarrassing because I wore a skirt that made it obvious. Also my song had a lot more vibrato then it did when I had practiced. But I survived, and overcame a big challenge for myself, and made it into the musical, too!

We practiced every weeknight and all day Saturday, our two weeks culminating in a series of four performances. I learned so much about acting, and performing, and speaking loudly, which was also a challenge because it's not something I normally do. I had to learn to shout like an army general, "I LOVE ARMIES, ARMIES COME MARCHING IN, LET'S STOMP THOSE FEET SOLDIERS!"

I've never participated in theater before, and so each new experience was unique and for the most part exciting. Two days before our first performance, we started having dress rehearsals, and I got to wear a grey wig with a long robe and some pretty intense makeup. Wearing stage makeup was really fun. I had latex applied over my eyebrows to make them disappear, then my whole face was painted pale grey with some serious black eyeshadow, stylized eyebrows, and black lipstick. I would never ever ever wear makeup like that normally, but I certainly enjoyed it just for the play. I also made a lot of new friends and learned to be a statue.

Mulan Jr. is a fantastic musical, and the performances were a lot of fun. A mentally challenged girl came to our third show. She sat in the front row and laughed with pure delight at every pun and joke and goofy thing we did. And something happened inside of me, and I sat straighter and acted better and poured myself into the performance like I never have before, and it suddenly became the most amazing privilege to perform just for the girl, and create so much delight for her.

That's definitely something God has worked in my heart. Five years ago I don't think it would have been such a big deal or privilege. But that performance was definitely my favorite. Performing for her was somehow better than performing for royalty. And that's hard to explain, but it was amazing and brought joy to my heart every time she laughed.

After that performance, a group of cast and crew went to a local coffeehouse. I didn't take off my makeup, because it would have taken a long time and my face would have been streaky with gray, and I would have had to smear that nasty cold cream all over it. Pretty much disgusting. So I went to the coffeehouse with my normal-looking friends in my intense makeup and my normal clothes, and it was a rather interesting spontaneous social experiment.

I had also gone to the deli restaurant wearing the makeup, and one thing I noticed was that the people at the counter (both there and at the coffeeshop) didn't react to the makeup at all. They were just as polite, taking my order, and looking me in the eyes. I'm sure that treating people with equality is a critical factor in working in a restaurant.

But the other people in the coffeeshop and deli acted a little differently. This was not surprising, considering my makeup (refer back to photo at top). Sometimes they'd look at me like they couldn't figure out what I was trying to do, like they were thinking "uhhhmmm...okaaay. " Some people would look rather surprised at my unorthodoxically radical face, and one lady in particular was shocked. She was talking with the person next to me, and I said something, and she looked at me and gasped and said "OHMYGOSH!" It was actually quite amusing. I never get reactions like that, because I usually look so...normal. Not intense or Goth or emo. Also, an older lady kept staring at me from across the coffeehouse. She looked quite disapproving and stern, as if she was thinking "WHAT is the world coming to? Gosh. Teens these days. Her mother should NOT allow her out like that in public. What is that girl's PROBLEM?!" I knew she was staring at me and so I smiled at her, and she half-jumped and flashed a startled little smile back at me. It was SO funny.

So I thought about it some, and I realized that sometimes I feel awkward around people who look different than I do. So often it's easier to pretend that they're not there than it is to be nice, and smile or say good morning. And I got a taste of that, that evening. Looking so extraordinarily extreme helped me realize that I need to make a bigger effort to treat everyone the same. Sometimes I do say hi, or smile. But sometimes I just don't do anything. And I wondered how people feel, who wear makeup like that all the time, or who look different in an attempt to convey a message or a belief. I can't imagine how lonely it must be to feel almost inhuman, with everyone staring or pretending they can't even see you. Like you're trapped within a shell that nobody is willing to look past.

So God used my one night's spontaneous social experiment to teach me an important lesson. I don't fully understand why people choose to dress in Gothic or other radical ways. But just because it's not something I would do doesn't give me a legitimate reason to ignore people. There is no legitimate reason to pretend people don't exist, or treat them as lesser than others. God made them too. And I want to make an effort to be more gracious and kind to people in general, regardless of how they may look on the outside.

status updates

2009-06-24T21:31:00.006-06:00

Julia is enjoying the summer.

Julia is at a loss for blogging ideas.

Julia will be back soon.

Giving His Love Away

2009-05-21T21:08:00.004-06:00

This is an essay I wrote about Circle of Friends Camp last semester. It was for a contest and I won a monetary award, but more than that I appreciated the opportunity to share just a few of the many things God's been teaching my heart as I volunteer at camp. Also, I think it might help you gain a better understanding of this camp that I always seem to be talking about; haha, I really hope you're not too sick of hearing about it.

Giving His Love Away

Have you ever learned something that took your prepackaged and preconceived ideas and turned them upside down and inside out while opening the door to a totally new point of view? This happened for me at Circle of Friends Camp, a ministry to families with physically and/or mentally challenged members. Circle of Friends Camp takes place three times each summer at Camp Gilmont, a Presbyterian camping facility outside Gilmer. Through volunteering at camp, I have learned three paradoxical truths that have changed my life.

Because of my brother's challenges, my family and I began to attend camp when I was nearly twelve years old. Although I was shy, unsure of how to relate to challenged people, I enjoyed camp. I was struck by the way that everyone was encouraged to participate in the talent show, even if they just made wacky sound effects or told a corny joke. I began to see the value in a place where everyone was accepted, regardless of their physical or mental limitations.

Perhaps at a camp primarily geared for challenged people, one would expect to see some conflict or tension. Not at Circle of Friends Camp. The atmosphere is permeated with love, respect, joy, and peace. Each person is valued simply for who they are. The authenticity is remarkable--the way that people love each other and enjoy each other is not a mere farce. It is genuine.

Over time, I too became more comfortable around people with physical or mental limitations. I began to enjoy their company and to look forward all year to seeing them at the next camp. I soon became a volunteer, gaining the privilege of serving these people in a practical way by befriending them, assisting them, and doing my best to ensure that camp was a wonderful experience. I was thrilled from the first moment I donned the volunteer uniform--a brilliant yellow vest.

Through volunteering, God opened my eyes to the paradoxical lesson He had been teaching me all along--that no matter what the outside of a person is like, each person has vast value and worth because each has been uniquely fashioned by the hand of the Almighty God, who made all things good. God radically destroyed my subconscious yet utterly shameful notion that people with physical or mental challenges are to be pitied, looked down upon because they "aren't as good" as I am. As God taught me to look deeper, beyond surface differences, I began to find immense depth and richness within these people, gaining some very dear friends.

I see the second paradoxical lesson illustrated best in the lives of two of my challenged friends, Bryce and Janey. Bryce is a nine-year-old boy who doesn't see very well, speak very clearly, or walk very steadily. However, he is highly intelligent and he loves cars. Bryce and I spent a great deal of the camp weekend outside in the parking lot, looking at the vehicles. As we inspected cars in the hot summer sun, I grew inwardly impatient. I did not understand why Bryce could spend what seemed like eons staring at a car's taillight--that is, until Bryce taught me. I finally knelt down and he proudly showed me all the miniscule facets in the reflector plate. Bryce noticed pattern and detail everywhere we went--whether it was the facets in a reflector plate, the bristles of a pinecone, the texture of a straw hat, or the way that light danced between the fingers of his outstretched hand. Bryce helped me learn to slow down-to look at things with new eyes and to appreciate detail and pattern, the order and beauty in God's creation.

Janey is a fifteen-year-old blond girl whose frequent smile exudes pure joy. Even though she is sometimes ignored or made fun of at school--because she looks different, sounds different, and acts differently than the average fifteen-year-old-Janey doesn't really let it bother her. She lives above it.

Janey is the most authentic person I know. She says what she means and she means what she says, unworried about maintaining an image. So often I make decisions based on how I will look to others, but Janey is not bogged down by worry about others' opinions. She is free from that stress, and just being with her refreshes me, encouraging me to be more authentic and to worry less about others' perceptions of me. Janey is simply Janey--honest, real, and beautiful. She and Bryce have given me so much. Through them, as well as many others, God has taught me a second paradoxical truth--that often those who seem like they have the least truly give the most.

Serving at camp has been one of the most influential experiences of my life thus far. Camp is not easy. It costs me time, booking my holiday weekends. It costs me energy, requiring work to help things run smoothly. It costs me effort, doing my best to help a challenged person enjoy camp, making it a special experience for them. It costs me love, choosing to lay down my personal agenda to serve and to bless others.

Giving of myself is hard. The cost is great, but the rewards are greater. I had no idea that servanthood would be so worthwhile--it is an understatement to say that it has radically changed my life. Through serving at camp, God has taught me far more than I could ever write here.

Don Lessin said, "What a privilege we have been given by God to be able to spend our lives giving His love away." Herein lies the third paradoxical truth: giving truly is a privilege far more than it is a sacrifice. While it enriches the life of the recipient, it changes the heart of the giver. I am privileged beyond words to have the opportunity to give God's love away at Circle of Friends Camp as well as in my everyday life. I will never be the same.

what I'm seeing

2009-05-11T23:13:00.003-06:00

Light at the end of this tunnel: only eight more school days. Then camp, finals, and summer...

Quite a few of my friends are feeling burned out by school and have lost nearly all motivation. For some reason, however, I feel quite energized (just one more reason to thank God). Only eight more days! I'm going to finish strong.

golden

2009-05-01T23:13:00.000-06:00

Summertime is coming!

With only three full weeks of school before finals, I've been pondering summer. I have eighty golden days of vacation.

This summer's definitely going to be different than any previous ones, but that's not a bad thing. I'll be taking classes at the community college, and I have other plans too, including music and English and work and dance and Circle of Friends Camp and a whole lot of watermelon.

At first, eighty days seemed like a terribly short break. I was a little disappointed, but now I think it's more of a good thing than a bad thing. I won't have time to get bored and unappreciative, taking it for granted. The summer will be sweeter for its brevity, and I will enjoy every single golden day.

Of course it won't be hard to go back to school, because I really do like it a lot. Senior year, here I come...that seems incredible. Am I really that old?

I remember sweet days of sunshine and childhood, how they seemed to last forever. I remember shimmery mornings, and dewdrops on crocuses, and backyard picnics, and the way the sun crept, ever so slowly, slanting through the kitchen window. And the golden days lasted for weeks, and a month was a year, and a year was an eternity, because I was small.

Even though I'm not very old, I've noticed that life has drastically accelerated since that time. Now the days happen so rapidly that before I know it, a week has passed, and a month, and a school year and summertime and then my birthday, and I'm a year older. Already. Sometimes it's hard to believe. This school year has flown by.

I tend to appreciate day-to-day life much more when I'm not overly stressed out. God has been so sweet to give me a new getting-ready-for-school routine, which allows for me to spend time with Him every morning. I'll say more about that later, because it's bedtime now, thank goodness. I appreciate sleep so much more now than I did when I was small!

what occupies my spare moments

2009-04-27T23:32:00.007-06:00

[click image to view larger]

A sample of my amateurish yet enjoyable artistic endeavors...

tonight

2009-04-27T20:23:00.001-06:00

I have been moved to the very depths of my soul by a piece of classical music.

I'll share the story later...

for you

2009-04-24T10:18:00.001-06:00

From my sketchbook, some wee scrawly flowers to brighten your day...

fifteen-and-a-half seconds of sheer awesomeness

2009-04-22T21:16:00.001-06:00

Today I went to my very first track meet. It's the final district meet we have this year; I missed the last one due to previous commitments.

I went to school in my uniform and left five minutes after the bell (missing a day of school is always a bonus, even though I do enjoy school). We drove for an hour and arrived at a very large, really fancy private boarding school. The students were all wearing button-down shirts, slacks or skirts, and ties. I wouldn't have been surprised at all if I had heard them speak with proper British accents. I got a kick out of seeing the students. I've always thought that I would enjoy a dress code like that.

Anyway, we pitched camp and warmed up and waited for the preliminaries to start. I was running sprints, the 100- and 200-meter dashes. I didn't expect to be any serious competition for anybody. I'm not a very good runner. I feel that I mostly excel at 50-meter dashes, and they don't even have those at high school track meets. I'm not really in track for the competition anyway.

I just decided to give the race everything I had--to leave it all on the track--and I would be fine with that. One thing I was nervous about is that I would really mess up just because I didn't know what to expect, like which colored line was the starting line, and I wished I had practiced my sprinting starts more. But I didn't mess up, and I started well, and I gave it everything I had, and my 100-meter dash was glorious. I may not have made it to the final round, but it was the best 100 I have ever run. It felt ah-ma-zing. 15.45 seconds of awesomeness. . . and I wasn't even the last person to cross the line! That was really cool, because I expected that I would be the last. I didn't make the final round, but it didn't matter that much. I did my best, and it was good.

I wonder how much different my life would be if I completely poured myself into everything I did, like my 100-meter dash? If I chose to leave it all on the track, so to speak, and reach for my goals, completely focused? Breathe in, in, breathe out, out. In, in, out, out. Pump my arms. Elbows in. Do not look back. Push it; leave everything on the track.

I think that if I really strove to attain excellence and poured my best effort into everything I did, I would be a lot more selective about my activities, etc., and just choose the ones that were really important and pertinent to my life. And then I would go for it. I'm learning that it's better to do a few things with excellence than to do a lot of things half-heartedly. I have a looong way to go here, but I'm making progress.

I'd rather not talk about my 200. . . no, it wasn't that bad, it's just that I do better with short and sweet races. By the end of the 200, I didn't have anything left in me to sprint across the finish line, and I wasn't feeling so good physically. It was a good 200 for me, but I'm just not great at longer distances.

However, my 100 more than made up for my comparatively sorry 200, and I was still delighted. Now I have exciting new goals: to shorten my 100 and to improve my 200.

The track meet was so much fun: fifteen seconds of bliss, hanging out with my team, enjoying the sunshine and the break from school, cheering on the others, and getting excited about next year. It definitely made all the painful days of practice well worth it, and I'm really excited about continuing to improve my running. This is me, delighted and excited:

artistic liberation, part one

2009-04-20T19:20:00.005-06:00

When I was small, I always loved to draw and color pictures. Mom called me "the artist of the family." I had a flowery folder "portfolio" with all my drawings in it, and I hoped that someday, I would be a true artist, with a real black leather portfolio full of exquisite and wonderful drawings.

As I got older, I began to be slightly frustrated because my drawings weren't as good as other people's. I took art classes, which bolstered my confidence. I learned so much and enjoyed those a lot, and I still dreamed of being able to draw and paint wonderfully.

However, over the last few years, I became increasingly dissatisfied with my artistic attempts. I didn't feel that I was a terrible artist. I still enjoyed drawing and painting, etc. My problem was that what appeared on the paper never quite matched the loveliness waltzing through my head. So I mostly stopped trying.

When God so kindly released my heart from my frustration with my own imperfections, school had just started and I was enrolled in an art class. I found that, as I became content with being a flawed human, realizing that my flaws can emphasize His perfection, God also released me from my crippling artistic frustration and gave me contentment, joy, and freedom from perfection.

One day I pulled out my sketchbook and scribbled all over a page with Sharpies, writing in sloppy capitals, "IT'S MY SKETCHBOOK...SO I'LL SCRIBBLE IF I WANT TO!" It was an exercise in liberation, even though I'm not really the type who greatly enjoys scribbling. I used to tear out sketchbook pages that I didn't feel measured up. No more, I say!

Art class has been so much fun lately. I feel so free and liberated to try drawing or painting whatever I want. And because I'm not stressed or frustrated, it doesn't really matter whether or not the product matches my imaginings. Even if I don't like the final outcome, I will have enjoyed the process.

I find inspiration everywhere. In books, in other people's work, in museums, in nature, etc. I have become so much more artistically adventuresome as a result of this wonderful liberation. I have such a delightful time, just imagining and letting that flow through my fingers. It still doesn't often come out the way I had imagined it, but I'm learning not to plan a mental diagram anyway. I like being flexible, going with the flow, and then I get to be pleasantly surprised at the end.

I recently painted a bunch of carrots in watercolor, just because I like them, and then I drew all over them in black ink. I am enormously pleased. Here they are:

I'm still not a great artist, or even highly skilled at what I do. But I'm growing, and enjoying, and learning about things that are deeper than just my pencil swirling over my paper...

(Read Part 2)

artistic liberation, part two

2009-04-20T19:10:00.002-06:00

I'm so constantly amazed in the way that God, the Almighty Ruler of the Universe, who keeps the planets spinning, is concerned with and involved in the little details of our lives. I think what it comes down to is that God cares about the state of our hearts. The goal here is that we are satisfied in Him (but it doesn't stop there!) and that we enjoy Him forever. And He is so amazing that He brings about His purposes and works in our hearts even through things like art.

Over this past semester, God has been teaching me more about who He is through my artistic dabbling. He is the wondrous Creator of all things, and the One who makes everything new--He brings restoration and healing and hope to famished hearts.

As I've been filling up my sketchbook, I see more and more that I cannot create anything apart from God. However, I can celebrate His marvelous creativity and the glory of His works through my art. I can attempt to portray His fingerprints--the earth is completely besmattered with them; we just don't notice--in a fresh way that brings fame to His name. And this is what excites me.

Cassie, my sweet friend, once mentioned in a letter something she read about how some Middle-Eastern craftsmen always intentionally leave a flaw in their work, whether it be pottery aor waeving or painting. Why? To show that only God is perfect. It's kind of like that with the flaws in my life. While God didn't put them there, they can most definitely serve as a foil to emphasize His greatness and utterly exquisite perfection. I wouldn't want it any other way.

In the same way, if my little bit of artistic gifting, imperfect though it may be, can bring notice and honor to the incredibly exquisite works of God, let it be so! I think that's why He gives us unique skills and abilities in the first place. When we make the choice to learn to use them for Him, that's when we find the most fulfillment and true joy in them. I believe that when we do this, a place in the depths of our hearts is satisfied. I can't even really explain it, other than knowing that this is how it is meant to be.

So I continue to draw and paint for the same reasons that I sing and dance and, for that matter, why I live--to know God and to bring Him praise. And that doesn't sound nearly as boring as it used to, because God is teaching me in this. And it's one of the most exciting things ever!

cupcakes and springtime and what the future holds

2009-04-13T22:45:00.003-06:00

I made a batch of springtime vanilla cupcakes last weekend, with pale green and cream-colored frosting swirled on top. And oh, they were delicious--cupcakes are, in my humble opinion, small bundles of bliss. I like them not only for their flavor (which seems all the more wonderful for their petite size) and their potential for decoration, but for the memories they bring back from my childhood.

That's why I always put those miniscule round nonpareil sprinkles on top, even though I don't particularly love them. As far as flavor, I am ambivalent, but they remind me of when I was a small child, wearing an apron and standing on the worn blue stepladder to help my mom bake a birthday cake for Daddy. As the sunbeams slanted into the warm kitchen, we would bake a square cake with white frosting and sprinkles. Mom always let me choose the sprinkles. We would lick the frosting beaters, and put striped candles on the properly adorned cake, and we would hide it on top of the refrigerator until after dinner...

Maybe the memories contribute to my vast enjoyment of baking. I do enjoy it very much. I usually bake when I'm home alone, and I turn up the 30's music on the record player, or listen to a staticky radio opera, or some random solo piano or Celtic album. And then I measure and stir and think about life in general, past, present, and future. I like baking because it's methodical, relaxing, contemplative (at least in my case), and in the end it amounts to something delicious. My mind, my stomach, and my family all appreciate my baking.

So, lately my thoughts have turned to the future and college. In retrospect, this year seems to have flown by. I'm not very old, but I've definitely felt time accelerate as I've gotten older. Things don't last as long as they used to when I was small. Although some days have seemed to drag on and on and on, the school year is almost over. Then next year I'll be a senior (!) and then comes graduation, and my two years of general college studies. After that? I don't know. I'm planning to transfer to a different university, but I don't know where because I haven't decided what I want to study.

Sometimes I'm half-envious of my friends who have their college chosen, future career selected, major and minor all spelled out, etc.--all that decided and nailed down. It's not that clear-cut for me, because my interests are rather spread out in various directions. I have a bouquet of rosy ideas, and my dilemma is to choose a single bloom and to make a wise and thoughtful choice. But then I remember that I have another five or six semesters before I have to decide, and by then I'll have a better idea of where my skills and interests are strongest.

While I think that planning for the future is crucial, and that remembering the past is also essential, I also realize that I live in the present. So right now, I expand my intellect and knowledge at school, and I shape and hone the skills and gifts God has richly blessed me with, and I learn and grow and be me, and I trust that He will give me the wisdom I need at the right time so that I may make the right choice. We'll figure it out, and I'm not in a rush.

Here's a springtime cupcake for you:

In which God uses Wikipedia

2009-04-08T20:33:00.000-06:00

I promise my title isn't heretical. Really. Keep reading...

One thing I've been doing lately is using the "Random Page" link on Wikipedia's sidebar. I decided that learning one new thing via Wikipedia daily would be a fascinating, enjoyable, and excellent way to expand my mind in many diverse directions. So, whenever I happen to think of it, I click the button and read the first interesting random article (I haven't inadvertently stumbled across any inappropriate articles, but I'm obviously being careful about that), and I've learned so far about several fascinating items.

The first time I clicked the button, a list of baseball pitchers appeared. No offense to anybody, but I could care less about baseball. So I clicked on to the next article and learned about Radio Free Asia, a 1950's Congress-sponsored American propaganda station that broadcast to Asia in nine local dialects. The Communist governments jammed several of the stations in order to prevent the American propaganda from reaching the general populace and swaying them against Communism and towards democracy. Eventually, Radio Free Asia assumed its current identity as a station dedicated to broadcasting unbiased world news to isolated Asian countries, still in the local dialect.

While I found RFA fascinating, especially considering that we have studied the 1950s in history class recently, today's article has been by far my favorite. It is about Doquz Khatun, a Mongol princess in the 1200's, who was a Nestorian Christian and who is known as a great benefactress of the Christian faith. Her husband was a Mongol ruler, and she would accompany him on his conquests and campaigns. In 1258, the Mongols massacred many thousands, but by the order of Doquz the Christians were spared.

While I primarily disagree with the Nestorian doctrine, which separates Christ's humanity and divinity, I was very encouraged to hear of how God used Doquz to protect His people. Like Esther, Doquz was given an opportunity to protect and honor God's sons and daughters. Indeed, she was placed in her time and married to her husband "for such a time as this."

While the article is brief, it was really encouraging to me. This is what I meant by saying God used Wikipedia--He reminded me that each of us is truly placed here "for such a time as this." So often I forget that God has a purpose for each and every day of my life--whether to encourage someone, to stand with them in prayer, or simply--especially--to know Him better. I discussed that here. And that is a reminder I believe that we could all use more often.

I'm so very thankful that there's more to life than what we can see, a deeper meaning and purpose and love of God than we can even understand. His ways and His thoughts are higher than ours...I so easily forget that life is about more than just finishing my homework and following my agenda. I know, I know, I know deep within that life is so much bigger and deeper than that, but I suppose I don't typically live like it to the extent that I should.

Anna R. B. Lindsay said, "That we are alive today is proof positive that God has something for us to do today." I have been blessed by God with a timely reminder that, indeed, I have been placed here "for such a time as this." And through Wikipedia, nonetheless--God is so awesome that He really can work through anything He wants to use. He is good!

a list, of all things...

2009-03-02T23:17:00.000-06:00

1. I learned today that I especially enjoy fifty-yard dashes.

2. I feel like I'm finally learning how to study and how to manage homework so that my stress load is decreased. It's such a wonderful feeling to be able to breathe again.

3. I just decided that I really like the color orange. Why did I think I hated it for so many years? It is bright, vibrant, and exciting. Of course, several shades are downright disgusting--but of course that's true of every color. I wonder if that was the case before the fall? Probably not, I say.

4. I love the way God gives me gifts all throughout every day: encouragement, friendship, laughter, even little things like hearing birdsong in the morning, joy in my heart, the knowledge of His presence when I'm not necessarily expecting it, and the knowledge that I am safe in His nail-scarred hands. He is so, so good!

5. Summer's coming! The third quarter of my school year ends this week. Of course I look forward to the opportunity to sleep past six-thirty in the morning, but I'm more excited about watermelon and sunshine and dance and Circle of Friends Camp, of course.

6. I'm finding that art, music, dance, even running track can all be an expression of praise to my Creator. I'll have to write more about that later. I am immensely excited.

7. Did anyone catch the irony/double meaning in my title? It was unintentional; I just noticed it myself and it made me smile.

8. I have a sneaking suspicion that nobody reads my blog anymore (except for me, myself, and I), but I enjoy doing it anyway. Of course, now I'm curious: leave a comment if you read this. =)

Life is good. God is better.

Polite Navigational Strategies for Short People (like me)

2009-03-01T18:31:00.000-06:00

Objective: From the lunchroom, make your way to the end of a very congested hallway, going against traffic flow. You have five minutes to refill your water bottle, deposit your lunch bag in your locker, and be seated in the final classroom to the left.

The solution to this daunting task is actually quite simple. Firstly, position yourself near the lunchroom door so that you can leave as soon as the bell sounds. Walk briskly, don't run, to the drinking fountain and refill your water bottle. By this time the hallway will be crowded. Remember to make liberal use of thoughtful phrases such as "Excuse me."

Move to the right side of the hallway for greater efficiency--closer to your locker--and greater speed. Walk directly behind a tall male student until you reach your locker. He will, in a sense, "part the waters" for you without even realizing that he's doing you a favor. When you reach your locker, speedily drop your lunchbag and grab your book. From there, you're home free.

A note of caution: Tall males, seniors especially, tend to carry large, weighty, overstuffed backpacks. Unfortunately, these backpacks tend to hang directly at the eye level of a petite girl. As you follow your selected student, do not, and I repeat, do not take your eyes off his backpack for even the slightest instant! His backpack may hit you, bruising and scraping your face. Remember, this is a risky position, and school hallways can be perilous: alertness and caution will serve you well.

In which I , like an indignant motor scooter, encounter a sunburn and a brown dog

2009-02-23T23:22:00.000-06:00

Today I had track practice for the first time. Our team is very small--we have one very fast runner, two long-distance runners, one average runner, one sprinter, and me. I would describe myself as a runner wanna-be...

I was so excited about track. Overall I am pretty healthy, but I know I don't get enough exercise, and I thought track would be a great way to get it. I am not very fast and I can't run for very long--this lack of speed and endurance would classify me as a wimp--but I have a good attitude! I'm looking forward to building speed and endurance, and being able to really run and feel confident calling myself a runner. I'm not there yet, but I'm ok with not being there because I'm working my way toward it. Anyway, track was today...

I pull back my curls in a ponytail and tightly lace my shoes, so ready for action. Coach King gives instructions for a two-mile warmup.

A two-mile warmup?!!

I am the girl that only runs two miles. One time in my life I ran 3.1, but other than that I always stop after 2. Two miles, I think, I can handle this.

What I'm worried about is what happens after the warm-up.

So we set out for two miles. I quickly fall behind, knowing I'll have to pace myself more slowly than my typical speed (Speed? I mean slowness) due to a cold/cough I'm fighting. This reduces my speed, or lack of it, to slow. Or from a runner's perspective, slower than slow. Therefore, my falling behind so quickly is no surprise at all to me. Andrew calls back over his shoulder, "You ok?" I shout, "I'm good!" as I push to keep up, realizing that this is going to be a very loooong two miles.

Needless to say, everyone speeds far ahead of me. I really don't mind--I know I'm slow and I don't want to hold them back. I'll get there eventually.

Some of them are halfway finished with mile 2 as I'm just starting it. I don't think I'm doing too badly. A medium-sized brown and white dog watches as Jordan flies past, faster than the speed of sound, leading the parade like a red Corvette. The other guys zoom past in a group like the top marching band, going strong and steady, and I bring up the rear in a major way as I putt-putt down the street like a little motor scooter with tassels on the handlebars. I'm thinking, how now, brown cow? I am slooow today, but I'll get there eventually. And when I parade past, the brown dog gets excited and decides to come growl at me. Unsure of how to handle this situation, I keep going. The dog doesn't like that and pretends to bite me, sort of testing me with his teeth, trying to intimidate me I suppose--but in reality not harming me at all.

Quite indignant and frustrated, I ponder the meaning of life, sunburns, running, sunshine, sunburns, why people can't properly secure their animals, sunglasses, sunburns, muscle effort, sunburns, and whether or not the dog will come back and chew me up. Is it wimpy to get chewed by such a small dog? Is it ok to kick a dog if he makes your leg bleed and sends you to the doctor? I don't want to make anybody mad, but if he won't listen to me and I don't kick him, what can I do to defend myself? Thankfully, I don't have to make that choice because the dog doesn't bother me this time around. Nevertheless, I aim a forceful NO! in the dog's direction as a precautionary measure.

I drag in for the finish, frustrated and warm, redder than a tomato. Of all things! For Pete's sake! I have a cold, I can't breathe very well now so I'm running slooooow, I forgot to wear my sunscreen, my face is burning and my legs are on fire, the dogs think I'm a chew toy, and this was only the warm-up.

Coach Machin suggests that I stretch out and catch my breath. Gratefully, I stretch out and realize that running two miles is a great way, albeit a slightly uncomfortable one, to warm up my muscles. I finish, not sorry for having missed out on the step-ups and jumps the guys did while I was still out, and we run 2 100-meter dashes. I'm not the only tired one now. We are done for the day, and I walk into school gasping, sweaty, and bright red from combined effort and sunshine. If I was in a redness contest with a tomato, I would totally win. By now, though, I feel great. I did it! I survived! I ran track, woohoo!

I made it, sweaty, sunburned, and triumphant! Next time, I will be able to breathe, I will remember my sunscreen, and I will be faster and stronger for my work today.

And I'm still excited about track...

looking on the bright side

2009-02-16T17:34:00.000-06:00

I woke up this morning with a terrible, horrible cold,
but I got to sleep 'til ten-forty!

Today is Monday,
but I didn't have to go to school!

The weather is a little colder than would be my preference,
but the sun is shining and the daffodils are blooming!

My ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton,
but for once my back doesn't hurt!

I have to do laundry tonight,
but I'm wearing my favorite plaid shoes!

I had to deal with a transportation miscommunication,
but I got to spend an hour relaxing at Starbucks!

I can't really sing because my throat hurts,
but I still get to make music with my flute!

I really really miss everyone from camp,
but I only have to wait 95 more days to go back!

I can't eat ice cream,
but I can drink chai tea!

I ran the 5K pretty slowly,
but I accomplished a big goal!

I was the only person in my age division,
so I received the blue ribbon!

My eyes are watery,
but I don't have a zit on the end of my nose!

I have to go to school tomorrow,
but we have a field trip all day Wednesday!

I haven't had luck with poetry-writing lately,
but I've been cleaning my room!

I didn't get to dance today,
but I got to play games with Drew!

I have to get up incredibly early tomorrow,
but that means I have time to drink tea!

I have to go do homework right now,
but I don't have very much!

good mornings in the root cellar

2009-02-03T18:31:00.000-06:00

I'm having a hard time coming up with titles, lately--blogging, poetry, even Facebook status--and I don't know why. But that's ok. I'll probably be struck with an enormous flash of inspiration sometime soon, and titles will be practically gushing out of my ears. I'll want to write things, just so I can use a creative title.

[EDIT: I started this post with the title "hello," but it's become slightly more interesting since then. Perhaps the enormous flash of inspiration is already headed my way? I certainly hope so.]

Anyway...I had a really good day today. My biology test was unexpectedly postponed. I got to run the concession stand instead of going to study hall. We're reading a very fascinating book in English, Milton's Paradise Lost, and I am really enjoying it.

All that aside...it would have been a good day anyway, I think. God is teaching me that every day is a good day. After all, His mercies are new every morning!

The determining factor between a good day and a bad day lies in my attitude. Will I thank God for even the little things? Will I allow the things that don't go my way to affect my attitude? Will I look at the leftover mudpuddles or the blue sky? Will I hear negativity or birdsong? Will I enjoy the everyday things, will I see education as a privilege or as a prison sentence?

All it boils down to is knowing that every single day is a precious gift from God. I love the quote from Kung Fu Panda where Master Oogway tells Po this: "There is a saying: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the 'present.' " I know that sounds cliche, but it's true. And while I have memories and lessons learned from the past and hopes and dreams for the future, I want to live every day with joy. Because life is short. God's gifts are always there. He's always good. I want to live with my eyes open to see that every day.

I came across a poem by Theodore Roethke the other day that I really liked. Here it is:

ROOT CELLAR
Theodore Roethke

Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch,

Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark,

Shoots dangled and drooped,

Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates,

Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes.

And what a congress of stinks!--

Roots ripe as old bait,

Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich,

Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks.

Nothing would give up life:

Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
________________________________

English class has definitely taught me to read poetry thoroughly. So I pondered this. I love the way that the plants in the cellar keep growing, even through the wet, cold, smelly, darkness. They keep growing and reaching for light ("chinks in the dark") and they don't give up. "Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath." That's the way I want to be, growing and very much alive even in the midst of real life, which is rarely easy.

Now that I've inadvertently managed to make the same point in so many different ways, I suppose I could talk about something else...

My favorite part of today was working at the concession stand with my friend. We laughed a lot and did our homework and shared a bag of M&M's, which we sorted by color, arranged in geometric patterns, and ate in order, saving the green for last because we agree that they are definitely the best. In my humble opinion, sorting and arranging the M&M's is more than half the fun.

I didn't go home today from school because I wanted to come to the basketball games tonight. So I'm going to go do my homework while I wait. Maybe I can get ahead so I won't have as much tomorrow.

That's all for now...

Life is good. God is better.

walmart lady

2009-01-25T22:31:00.000-06:00

She sits outside Wal-Mart in the fading light

her bleached hair is tousled by the wind, exposing dark roots.

People pass, ever streaming in and out of the automatic doors.

Laughing, joking, speaking, or silent

they walk past as though she does not exist.

Looking out the window, I smile gently at her

and she lifts one corner of her mouth, ever so slightly, in response

then turns her head away,

looking wistfully into the gathering darkness.

She fingers her lit cigarette

its end glowing, vivid, orange in the night

and she deeply inhales, sorrowful,

burying her brokenness--

hiding her hopelessness--

in a cloud of acrid smoke.

Hope

2009-01-11T22:37:00.000-06:00

is what God's giving me.

"...now, O LORD, you are our Father;

we are the clay, and you are our potter;

we are all the work of your hand."

Isaiah 64:8

Hello, my name is Julia

2009-01-08T17:53:00.000-06:00

and I am almost always excited about almost everything.

Yep. It took me 17.25 years to figure that out.

Crayolas are Mauvelous

2009-01-01T15:54:00.001-06:00

Last month I was sitting in a school cafeteria waiting for my all-region orchestra audition results (turns out I was seventh out of thirty flutes, scoring third chair in the symphonic orchestra. I'm happy). I was discussing the vivid colors painted on the wall with a tuba player, and I said "I'm not a big fan of the mauve."

"The what?" he said.

"That purplish-pink color," I explained.

"You have a name for that? Wow, I'm not that fancy with colors."

Hmm. I had thought that "mauve" was common knowledge, but evidently it's not. I suppose that many people wouldn't have known that the mauve stripe was, well, mauve. Not "that faded and unattractive pink between the yellow and the teal." Mauve. So I wondered, why do I know that? I certainly didn't make an effort to learn specific and precise color names.

And then I remembered. I had a Crayola crayon called Mauvelous when I was seven. It was a dusty pink color and it wasn't a particular favorite of mine, but it did come in handy every so often.

I loved my Crayolas. When I was a small child, restaurants would give you four-packs of Crayolas to use on the kids' menu. Not today's disappointingly waxy and weak cheap crayons manufactured overseas, but classic, American Crayolas that colored smoothly and vividly. Red, green, yellow, blue. A practical and economical assortment.

I remember having the eight-crayon boxes of Crayolas, which provided a basic palette for everyday coloring. I thought they were cool because the box was really slim. Which might explain why I prefer a slim phone and mp3 player. It's all because of my Crayolas.

While the eight-pack was cool, it didn't quite meet the needs of more serious budding artists like myself. We were known to prefer the 24-pack with three rows of eight. The box was more hefty, but that was ok because it had extra colors like Grey and Yellow-Orange.

One year--I must have been about five--we visited my Grandma Diantha in Rockford, Illinois. Mom and I went to Wal-Mart and we happened to pass the arts-and-crafts aisle, with a Crayola endcap display. They had 48-count boxes of crayons with the rows tiered for ease in choosing and a sharpener on the back of the box. Mom said, "Look! It's the biggest box of crayons we've ever seen!" And I thought to myself, actually I've seen bigger ones, but when she bought it for me I was still really happy. I was equipped now for artistic success--I had Sea-Foam Green, Purple Mountains' Majesty, Razzmatazz, and a crayon sharpener. And I kept all my crayons neatly organized and sharpened, ready for action. I remember sprawling out on my grandma's well-worn hardwood floor with my new crayons, coloring to my heart's content.

I had Crayola markers, too, my favorite type being the super-fine-line in classic colors. I carried those with me often. For some reason I remember taking them to the library in Xenia, Ohio, although I don't know why I would have done such a thing. Even then, I could have lived happily in a library for months on end.

Even though the markers were cool, the crayons were the best. Eventually I got the box of 64 and later the 96, which even had flourescent colors. I liked Magic Mint, Razzle Dazzle Rose, and Unmellow Yellow; but I still preferred the classic brights like Dandelion, Cerulean, and Wild Strawberry.

I haven't owned a new supersize box of crayons since before 1998, when 24 new colors were added to Crayola's palette for a total of 120 crayons. I remember the controversy in 1999 about the color Indian Red, which was named after a pigment found near India. Some teachers felt that students might wrongly perceive it to represent the skin color of Native Americans, and so the name was changed to Chestnut. And I was very disappointed, because...

Crayola crayons colored my world. I knew that in India--where the sun was hot and elephants carrying dark-skinned, turban-clad gentlemen walked through the city streets-- the soil really was the rich, spicy brown color called Indian Red. Midnight Blue was the color of the sky on a cold snowy night in Vermont. Dandelion and Wild Strawberry were spattered across the sun-kissed fields of the American Midwest, and Neon Carrot was the color of Bugs Bunny's favorite treats in Looney Tunes Land. Aquamarine was the color of the ocean, deep down where the seaweed grew and the puffer-fish blew, and Cerulean was the color on top of the sea, the color I would have seen from the deck of a whaling ship as my hair was tousled by the wind and gulls snapped up pieces of whale blubber. Olive Green was the color of fairies' tunics--but only the boy fairies because the girls were clad in shimmering dresses of pink flower petals. Asparagus was the color of things that sprung up in the forest, deep in the sun-mottled shade, and Periwinkle was the color of dainty flowers growing in faraway fields. Yellow was for sunshine and summer days. Red was bold and exciting, heroic, like a fire engine. And Purple Mountain's Majesty was the color of the faraway mountain range, the one beyond the amber waves of grain in "America the Beautiful."

Crayolas gave me a mental palette. I knew what Indian dirt was like. When I read about periwinkle flowers in Carl Sandburg's whimsical Rootabaga Stories, I could envision them. Because I had a crayon that color. I could see the ocean from the ship of Rachel Field's Hitty: Her First Hundred Years. And of course the purple mountain's majesty...Crayolas gave wings to my imagination and a medium to my creativity.

Crayolas were a big part of my childhood. Now the company has changed the names of the colors, and retired a few of my favorites. They redesigned the box, to make it more 'kid-friendly,' but the box isn't classy and six-year-old sophisticated anymore. They've come out with all sorts of fancy new products, which are great (I suppose) but not the way I remember. I would so love to have my old-fashioned box of ninety-six crayons again, and someday I really want to visit the Crayola factory. Better yet, I'll take my kids and let them experience the wonder I would have felt at their age, and I'll buy them their first big box, of forty-eight. I'd almost rather see the Crayola factory than the US Mint. Someday...

I've heard that some people dream in black and white. I don't know about you--but I dream in Crayola.

New year, new blog

2009-01-01T14:43:00.001-06:00

When I chose the name "Living for the glory of God" for my blog, that was my heart's desire. And it still is. I truly desire for my life to bring praise to the One who gave his life for mine. God is so, so worthy. I want to bring him praise.

However, more and more He is showing me that I simply cannot do this. At all. I am human. Without Him my sin is filthy, overwhelming, putrid. I am utterly wretched on my own.

It is only in God's grace that I can live. And the beauty of His grace is that He has purified me, cancelled my sin, healed me, rescued and ransomed me, made me free, and made me His own. No longer am I wretched and filthy and utterly, hopelessy lost. He has covered me in His blood, and by His grace I am whole, free to live the abundant life He gives me.

God's love is so incredible that he wants me to share in His purposes. Even though I'm not very good at following him. Even though I am vastly imperfect and my flesh is sinful. Even though I'm exceptionally talented at messing things up. God is more than capable of fulfilling His plans and purposes for the world without my help. Or my hindrance.

It's kind of like letting a kindergartner help you bake cupcakes. You know they'll stir so fast that they splash the batter around. They'll probably dump in a whole cup of salt by mistake, and you'll have to start over. They'll get frosting everywhere and the cupcakes will most definitely not be pretty. They'll be sticky and messy. But you let them help anyway because you love them. Even though you could do a much better job yourself. Even though it would be easier not to have them help. Even though you could make them perfectly beautiful.

You let them help because you love them.

And that's a very small and imperfect picture of what God does with me. And you. The Sovereign King of the Universe loved us enough to rescue us from the bondage of sin. Not only that, but He heals our hearts and makes us whole. Not only that, but He invites us to be His hands and feet used to carry out His perfect purposes. Even though we're a bunch of sticky, clumsy kindergartners.

He just loves us that much.

So in and of myself I can't bring Him glory, because I'm less than nothing without Him. But He can use my small life to bring Himself praise. And that's what I want. Unfortunately, I don't often live like it.

But that's why Christ died. His mercies are new every morning. And I can only stand in His grace, place myself into His nail-scarred hands, and embrace His purposes, allowing Him to fulfill them in and through me.

That's the only way I'll ever bring Him glory and praise.

And so I changed the name of my blog to "inHisgracealone.blogspot.com." I simply imported everything, so the name is the only thing different.

Please update your links, etc. accordingly. I'm sorry for any inconvenience, but I feel that this is a more true expression of my life. Because this is the life I have been given, in Christ's grace alone.

You are most welcome to share in this journey, as I grow more, know Him more, and seek to bring Him praise. In His grace alone, I have life. Life abundantly...

where on earth have my lips gone?

2008-12-10T22:48:00.000-06:00

I have been playing flute for over half my life, since I was eight years old. I absolutely love it. Music has been a wonderfully enriching part of my life thus far. I have learned so much. Now I am teaching others, and I love having the opportunity to pass on what I've learned. Seeing my students grow is amazing and exciting.

This year I'm trying out for All-Region Orchestra for the first time. I wanted to do this before, but because I was homeschooled I wasn't eligible to participate. This year I am, and so I have been working on my three audition pieces for quite some time now.

I'm in the TMEA division, which is more advanced, so I'll be competing against flautists from larger schools in East Texas. Tomorrow is the big day, so I'll leave school before lunch and travel two hours to get to Paris, where the auditions are held. Then I play and wait, wait, wait for results. Ideally, we'll be able to leave by ten and get home maybe a little after midnight.

Over the past couple of weeks I haven't practiced as much as I should have. School has been really stressful and I just didn't get to it. However, I had worked hard beforehand and I won't suffer terribly for not practicing much.

So after barely practicing for a week and a half, I've worked and worked these past three days. And my lips are leaving me, hence the title. Between added stress and inconsistent practicing since school started, my lip muscles aren't as conditioned as they were before, and all this practicing is wearing them out.

So I'm still practicing tonight, but I'm doing it in 15-minute segment with 15-minute breaks in between to rest my embouchure (lip position) and vocal cords. It's rather comical, in fact--in between practice sessions I drink very weak apple-cider "tea" and buzz my lips out while I blog. Right now I'm lip-trilling the "William Tell Overture."

I feel pretty confident about tomorrow. The pieces are well-learned--not quite up to speed, but accurately and expressively played. And I would rather lose one or two points for speed than rush the music and lose a lot of points for sloppy playing.

Anyway...that's what I've been up to.

Last night I was at the library doing homework. Not unusual...it's a great atmosphere for studying. I ran into an acquaintance from church, and he asked me this question: "So what are you learning today?" He was asking about my homework, but I found the question fascinating.

So what are you learning today?

And this is where English class comes in handy. I love the matter-of-factness here, and the word "today" implies that the action, learning something, is a daily occurrence. Yes! It is! And I want to notice the things I'm learning, if you get my drift. And not just homework-wise.

What have I learned today about character? What have I learned today about connecting with people? What have I learned from a mistake I made? What have I learned about God? What have I learned about life through this day that God gave me?

It's something I've been thinking about lately. And that's a good thing. I pray that God would give me grace to learn from my experiences and eyes to see what He is teaching me...because He is. Every day. He's so good...

the Thanksgiving post

2008-11-28T11:25:00.000-06:00

I know. It's a vastly original and unique title.

As usual, Dad and the boys and I watched the Macy's parade and played parade bingo. We've watched the parade every year for as long as I can remember. This year, however, I slept through two-thirds of it.

The guys raked leaves while Mom cooked and I washed dishes. We ate our big meal off the Haviland china that belonged to my great-grandmother. We cleaned up, enjoyed Drew's trademark pumpkin pie (with a cheesecake layer and streusel topping--he wins contests with that pie) and some really nice coffee, then played games and watched It's a Wonderful Life.

And as much as I like our family traditions, that wasn't my favorite part of the day.

The best part was just being with the amazing family that God has blessed me with. And we're not perfect, but it's better that way.

Being at home this week has been wonderful. I've gotten to "jump" on the trampoline (more like "I've been flung so high on the trampoline that I feared for my life") and go running with Drew. I've gotten to dance with Daniel. I've gotten to talk with Dad and laugh a lot. I've gotten to spend time with Mom, talking and telling stories.

I've also gotten to sleep in every day, organize my closet, and wash a lot of dishes (I assigned myself to kitchen patrol for the week), but that's hardly worth mentioning. Because it's a part of life, but not the important part.

Lately I've been thinking about how much relationships matter. Relationships are the important part of life.

In the gospel of Matthew, a man asks Jesus what the most important commandment is. This is Christ's reply:

"And he said to him, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets." Matthew 22:37-40

So everything rests on relationships. And it doesn't have to be as complicated as I often make it. Simply put, I need to love God first and then love those around me, first my family and then others. And that's how God is teaching me to live.

A couple weeks ago, I was reading online about a museum exhibit. It is a letter-writing station, where people come and write letters that they wish they had written while they had the chance. They write the things that should have been said years ago. They ask forgiveness. The exhibit gives them the opportunity to seek closure. And I suppose it's a good idea, but all I could think about while I was reading the article was "I don't want that to be me."

I don't want to find myself sitting at a desk in a museum ten or twenty years from now, writing a letter and wishing I hadn't missed all those opportunities that I was given. Wishing I had swallowed my pride and done the right thing. Wishing I had said what I needed to say. Wishing I had told people how much they meant to me. Wishing to go back.

I don't want that to be me. I don't want to live with regret like that. I don't want to waste the vast opportunities God has given me.

God is teaching me to value relationships. He's showing me how much I truly need Him (desperately) and He's helping me grow in our relationship. It's so exciting. I am simply blown away by Him.

Just think--the God who merely spoke and life sprang forth, the One who keeps the planets spinning and knows every star by name, the Sovereign Lord of Lords and King of Kings--He desires to know us. We, who are made from dust, whose lives are short and transient, like a vapor in the wind. He wants to know us. And He sent His Son that we might know Him. He heals our hearts and--get this--he invites us to share in His purposes. He invites us to be His hands and feet, bringing His life to a broken and dying world.

It's not like He needs our help.

He just loves us that much.

So He's drawing me near. And it's amazing.

God is also teaching me to value relationships with others. When I first started school, several people told me to make sure I had a social life apart from school. They said that academics are important, but not the most important thing. It was very good advice, and I needed to hear it.

The first two weeks of school were hard and overwhelming. Being in school for eight hours, then coming home with two hours of homework, was all completely new. For a while, I didn't really have a life. But I got over the culture shock and learned to balance school and life.

The second week of school, I spontaneously called a friend and we got discounted tickets to hear an opera singer. It was so much fun...I'm the only one in my family who likes opera, and my friend loves it. So we went to hear this amazing singer and then just walked and talked. I needed the break from school, and I so enjoyed spending that time with my friend. Now she is moving to Kentucky next month, and I am thankful that we got to share that experience, because we won't see each other again for a very long time. I'm glad we took the opportunity while we had the chance.

Lately I've been writing a lot of letters. And not just because of that article I read, but because I wanted to get back in touch with people before it's too late. And I love writing letters.

E-mail is convenient. It makes my life a lot easier. The instant communication is quite useful. Facebook is useful, too. It has helped me get in touch with people I haven't seen in years. (Unfortunately, Facebook can also be a very effective time-waster, at least for me, which is one reason I haven't logged on this week.) Telephone calls are great, too...

But there is nothing like a handwritten letter. To know that someone took the time to sit down and compose a personal letter, even writing by hand because they care about you, makes it all the more valuable. And in this day of advertisements and other postal clutter, unexpectedly finding a real letter in the mailbox is quite exciting (to me, anyway). William James said, "As long as there are postmen, life will have zest." And I'm inclined to agree.

Dear me, this post is long...anyway, that is what's been going on with me. God is teaching me to value relationships, and it is so good.

Going to make coffee and do homework, now.

amazing

2008-11-21T21:52:00.000-06:00

It's amazing, how God knows exactly what I need, and how He is exactly what I need...

hello

2008-11-14T16:18:00.000-06:00

I promise I haven't abandoned my poor neglected blog...

>>Insert Catchy Title Here<<

2008-11-05T15:15:00.000-06:00

I always take a long time to think of titles. Titles are very important to me...

Anyway, this is to let you know that I'm getting better!

No, I'm still itchy--even more so than before.

But it's ok, because my SENSE OF HUMOR HAS RETURNED! =D

I'm on the mend...

going BeRsErK! Funny bone, don't fail me now...

2008-11-02T22:01:00.001-06:00

Trying not to scratch...

I have an awful case of poison ivy. I got it while I was clearing some brush. I was really careful to avoid poison ivy, but I think I must have hit a dead vine. I just found out that the irritant remains potent on a dead vine (even without leaves!) for one to five years. Ack.

"Leaves of three, leave it be" didn't quite cut it this time.

I have a really bad full rash covering the inside of my right arm, and spots all over my left arm, and it's on both ankles, spreading up my legs, on one cheek, my stomach, the top of my ear, and under my chin. The worst part is that it seems to be everywhere (and it's still breaking out), so as soon as one place stops itching two other spots begin to itch again, etc.

When something painful happens to me, I'm usually able to think of a way to make it amusing. When I got my first cavity, I enjoyed writing about it. When I banged up my toe, I blogged about it while my brothers skeptically watched me giggling at the keyboard. (I don't know about you, but I was quite amused.)

But this time, I have a problem. I can't think of anything funny to say about my poison ivy. I can't seem to make it comical, which is a real bummer. I tried while we were driving down the road, my hands pressed to the car roof to keep myself from scratching my chin. I tried while I laid on the couch, warm oatmeal plastered on my arms and held in place by Saran Wrap. (By the way, if you ever get poison ivy, try that. It helped.) I thought it would be easy to joke about poison, itching, and oatmeal, but I can't seem to think of anything. At all. And that's almost worse than the itching.

I haven't completely lost hope. Perhaps my sense of humor will pick up in the morning. (I doubt it, though--I have to go to school like this.) And I know that the poison ivy won't last forever. I'm taking care of it properly, and it's not as bad as it would be otherwise. But this will be a rough week. (Long, itchy sigh...)

So check back soon. Because a flash of inspiration might hit me during an inopportune moment, and I'll know that my funny bone hasn't failed me. Then I'll burst into laughter at school with my head in my locker, others wondering what's gotten into me (not really, they're used to it by now), and then I'll know I'm getting wetter.

I meant getting better. It must be bedtime.

hopeful morning music

2008-10-29T21:49:00.000-06:00

I'm gonna sing this song
To let you know that you're not alone
And if you're like me
You need hope, coffee, and melody...

It might not be
The prettiest thing that you'll ever see
But it’s a new day...
And it might not look like
A beautiful sunrise
But it's a new day...it's a new day.

And it just might be
The prettiest thing that you'll ever see
It’s a new day
Oh baby, it’s a new day
If you look outside
To see a beautiful sunrise
It’s a new day.

--Robbie Seay Band
from "New Day"

Last night I stumbled across two (legal!) free downloads from the Robbie Seay Band. I really like both of them--"Song of Hope" and "New Day." They're hopeful morning songs...

This morning I was listening to the New Day song, and God reminded me of some verses in Lamentations. So I read a little background on the book of Lamentations, and I found that it is made up of five poems, each expressing grief over the fall of Jerusalem in 586 B.C. This book was probably written by the prophet Jeremiah.

Jeremiah compares the fallen city to a lonely, broken widow, heart-wrung with the knowledge of her guilt. Then he paints a vivid picture of the people's despair, and then he laments his own pain and suffering.

This part always grabs me. Jeremiah is at an all-time low. He is tormented, afflicted, and close to despairing. He says that "my soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is..." (Lam. 3:17) And then, in the middle of his lament, he stops, pauses, and speaks:

But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.

"The LORD is my portion," says my soul,
"therefore I will hope in Him."

Lamentations 3:21-24, emphasis mine

I am so blown away by this. At the lowest point in his life, Jeremiah stops, looks up, and praises God for His goodness. Because He is good. He is so good.

Obviously I don't have problems like Jeremiah did. I am so incredibly blessed in every area of my life. But I still need the reminder. I want to know this, that God's mercies are new every morning. I want to live every day seeing it as a new day, a fresh start, and God's precious gift.

It's like in Kung Fu Panda, when Master Oogway says to Po: "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present." And I've gotten some version of that in forwarded emails probably twenty times, but it's still worth remembering. Life is short, like a vapor in the wind...Every day is a priceless gift from God. And I want to live knowing that.

due to budget cuts...

2008-10-23T19:05:00.000-06:00

"Due to budget cuts, the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off."

Seen on a t-shirt

That's an exaggeration of how this week has felt for me. My homework load is heavy, and I'm busy. Very busy ... and tired. Very tired. But I know it's going to get better. I suppose I'll look at it as preparation for college.

I still love school, it's just tough right now. But I know it's good for me. I'm so glad I got to go camping with my family last weekend. I needed the break.

I'm going to do homework now. I'm thinking of the old lady who ate the whale. How did she do it? One bite at a time.

One bite at a time...I'll get through this.

truth is stranger than fiction

2008-10-20T21:38:00.000-06:00

On the last day of our camping trip, Mary and I were sitting lazily next to the very smoky campfire, our eyes watering as we talked about nothing in particular. I had my sketchbook in my lap, deluding myself into thinking that I was actually about to draw something.

Mary commented that she wanted to burn a piece of paper. I had some sheets I wanted to tear out of my sketchbook anyway, so I told her she could have one. Now it just so happened that the paper I tore out contained a sketch of Jesus, something I had been practicing for a project. I had attempted to draw him in a seated position, and it was a disaster.

I couldn't just let Mary turn Jesus into a pile of ashes. That seemed rather sacreligious. So I decided to exercise artistic liberties and change Jesus into a normal person. In a sudden flash of inspiration, I erased Jesus' sash and engraved "I [heart] NY" on his robe with my mechanical pencil. Then I changed the bottom of his robe into a pair of jeans. Because I couldn't just burn Jesus.

Mary lit the corner of the paper in the campfire, and placed it onto a patch of bare dirt while we watched it glow, curl, and shrivel. Soon the paper was reduced to nothing but a frail castle of ash, which fluttered into nothing at the merest breeze.

We resumed our conversation, having been momentarily diverted. Mary poked around in the ashes with a stick, and I noticed a lone scrap of paper, facedown, smoke-blackened around the edges yet unburned for the most part. I joked that it was probably the scrap that said "I [heart] NY", and so Mary turned it over with the end of her stick. Imagine my surprise when I saw this:

Jesus' face looked down in what seemed to me gentle compassion, and written across his chest were the words "I Love"....

I leave you to draw your own conclusions.

my school portrait

2008-10-20T16:15:00.000-06:00

I have lots to say and not much time to say it...expect posts soon!

One of my favorite quotes:

"If we've only got one try
If we've only got one life
If time was never on our side
Then before I die
I want to burn out bright."

--Switchfoot
"Burn Out Bright"

going camping

2008-10-16T22:26:00.000-06:00

see you Monday.

the Traumatic Experience that wasn't even traumatic

2008-10-08T21:09:00.000-06:00

I've always been a good tooth-brusher.

Honestly, I've always had good dental hygiene, whch was why I wasn't worried at all about going to the dentist this morning. That is, other than the expected discomfort of the dentist's fingers in my mouth, the not-so-tasty flavor of latex gloves, and the decidedly unpleasant tickling of the tooth-cleaning device and its gritty aftertaste. But I was pretty well resigned to those things.

However, I wasn't expecting to have or resigned to having

my

first

cavity.

One thing I like about my dentist is that he doesn't generally ask me questions when his fingers are in my mouth. I think that's quite considerate of him. Sometimes he'll talk to me about his family or the weather or the misspelled captions on the television screen, but he doesn't expect me to respond when his fingers and his sharp objects are inside my mouth.

But something was different today. After the usual small-talk, the dentist got quiet as he focused on a single tooth. He selected a different cold metal tool (you'd think they could warm them up before sticking them in your mouth) and pressed the tip against one of my molars, where it sunk in slightly. That's when I knew something was not good. He did this several more times, and then announced the tragedy.

"Well, today your perfect record has been broken. You have a small cavity."

I had a momentary flashback to my childhood. I loved going to the dentist when I was little. Why wouldn't I? He cleaned my teeth, gave me bubble-gum-flavored dental floss, (I remember liking it so much that I carried it around in the pocket of my jacket, even to the library) and a pink plastic ring for good behavior. The dental hygienists were my special friends (especially Miss Sandy...) I never really understood why some children came into the dentist's office screaming and crying. My brothers and I looked forward to our appointment for months.

Of course, I had never had a cavity.

I heard about how the dentists drilled holes in people's teeth. But I never worried about having a cavity, because I was a good tooth-brusher. And I didn't even drink soda pop. So I never really worried. And I didn't worry today.

I was rather surprised today, though, and a bit disappointed. I had had fantasies of maintaining my perfect dental record at the ripe old age of 102, when I would tell my great-great-grandchildren that never drinking soda was most definitely worth it. (They probably wouldn't believe me, though. I was well-trained. My parents didn't give me soda, and to this day I simply don't like soft drinks. I've never had a whole one in my life, and I don't think I've ever so much as tasted a Dr. Pepper. But don't tell Pastor Bud I said that.)

Anyhow, all my dreams were shattered with that fateful announcement. I didn't know where the cavity came from. I still brush my teeth pretty well. Evidently some people just get cavities for no apparent reason. I have now decided to never have a reason. Maybe I can still have a nearly-perfect dental record at the age of 102.

Anyhow, we decided to have the cavity filled right then and there. When I was little, I always thought that having a cavity filled would be a Traumatic Experience, not so much for the drilling but for the wounds of shame that would be drilled into my soul. I was always proud of my perfect record.

Having a cavity wasn't quite as shameful as I thought. Although I was disappointed, I tried to find the silver lining....

At least it was a small cavity. It didn't even show up on the x-ray. I've had 13 teeth pulled, 2 years of braces, and my wisdom teeth removed, so I knew that the filling wasn't going to really bother me. Hey, I'd even get to miss an extra class at school. My face would still be numb, so I wouldn't have to talk in Spanish class (although speaking doesn't really bother me, it's the grammar that's tough). I'd get to have Jello for lunch.

The dentist was busy, so I tried to take a little nap while I was waiting in the chair. I tried to get as much enjoyment from the experience as I could...enjoying not sitting at a hard plastic desk, not studying math, and not taking notes. Eventually the dentist came in to give me the gum-numbing shot, and I got all stressed out again. That always hurts. And then they left me alone again to wait for my face to freeze. I took another little snooze-a-roo (as someone would say, but I don't remember who). Then the dentist returned and started drilling. It didn't particularly bother me--I kept waiting for it to hurt, until I realized that the worst part must be over and so I relaxed.

I left with a very numb face, which was rather amusing in English class since I had to pass notes for someone else to read aloud if I had a comment on the book we were discussing. I tried to talk once, much to everyone's amusement. It didn't work very well because I still couldn't feel my tongue or the right half of my face. I felt strange not being able to smile or say hello in the hall--I do that all the time. By the end of Spanish class, I started to be able to feel my face, and the numbness was gone by the end of lunch. I had a short day since I missed the first 25% of the school day. I didn't feel any pain at all when the numbness was gone.

So overall, having a cavity filled was not traumatic at all. Just to let you know.

from my sketchbook

2008-10-08T17:30:00.000-06:00

This is what I got in the mail the day before my birthday. I liked the postmark and stamp, so I sketched it. I've been more inspired to draw lately, and I've really been enjoying it.

my inner six-year-old: a confession

2008-10-02T15:24:00.000-06:00

The time has come.

I'm going to reveal my deepest, darkest secret.

This has been going on for at least six years.

I wasn't going to say anything, but the time has come for me to be free from hidden secreets. My life will be so much better after I get this incredible weight off my chest. Even though it's going to be difficult, I'm about to face my fear and not let it rule over me anymore. I need to be free. My hands are sweaty. Deep breath...here goes. I'm not saying this twice, so you'd better read closely.

Every time I walk down a long, empty hall, at school or at church, I feel an irresistible urge to

cartwheel

down

the

hall.

seriously.

I'm not kidding.

the end.

come dance with Me

2008-10-01T14:13:00.000-06:00

One thing I love about God is the way that He uses even the littlest things in life to teach me more about Himself. I love it when He reveals a new aspect of His character to me.

With that said, my brother Daniel and I have been ballroom dancing some lately. I really enjoy it a lot. Kate, a good friend of mine, also dances. She told me early on that God's taught her a lot through ballroom dancing. In a way, that prompted me to be on the watch for new insights from God.

One of the very first things I had to learn was to let Daniel lead. It was my tendency to lead, and I had to learn to follow him. Even when he messed up. I had to relax and allow him to learn to be a strong leader. That was initially a little tough for me, and so Kate and her partner, who were helping us learn, told me to close my eyes. Close my eyes!?

That meant that I couldn't see where I was going.

I couldn't direct the steps anymore.

All that I could do was hold on to Daniel and trust that he would guide me.

It's like being with God, isn't it? Sometimes I can't see where I'm going. Of course I can't order His steps. I have to surrender and let Him be in control, because the dance doesn't work otherwise.

That analogy has been helpful to me in understanding surrender. I believe that our walk with God can be like a beautiful dance. But we have to learn to trust, surrender, and obey first.

I'm not the only one who thinks of our relationship with God as a dance. Hafiz was a 14th-century Persian poet. I've been reading some of his poems lately (haha, not in Persian, they've been translated by Daniel Ladinsky) . Some of them are simply beautiful. Some of them are really wierd. Some of them are inconsistent with what I believe about God. But I read them with the mindset of gleaning, like Ruth in the Bible--I take the good and the true and I leave the rest. Just so you know, I do not recommend all of Hafiz's poetry. But I love some of it. This poem is one of my favorites:

The God Who Only Knows Four Words

Every child

Has known God--

Not the God of names,

Not the God of don'ts,

Not the God who ever does

Anything weird,

But the God who only knows four words,

And keeps repeating them, saying:

"Come dance with Me."

Come

Dance.

what's going on: clarification

2008-09-29T22:21:00.000-06:00

I've been a little hesitant to post lately for a couple reasons:

I just haven't had much to say recently. School's going well, but it keep me pretty busy.

A bigger reason is that I don't want to be misunderstood. Please know that my life isn't perfect--I don't have it all together. To be honest, I never will--it's not humanly possible. I hope that none of you think that I do have it all together, but I need to write it anyway. I'm a work in progress, just like you.

I sometimes view my relationship with God as a journey. The things I write about are the things that I'm thinking about and learning along the way. My goal in this is simply to share the journey.

The LORD is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
The LORD is good to all,
and his mercy is over all that he has made.
Psalm 145:8-9

exquisitely woven

2008-09-28T13:52:00.000-06:00

For I can see in your eyes

That you are exquisitely woven

With the finest silk and wool

And that Pattern upon your soul

Has the signature of God...

-------
Hafiz
14th-century Persian poet
translated by Daniel Ladinsky
-------
contour art
Julia Farrell
August 2008
-------

lessons from Pollyanna: silver linings

2008-09-20T16:12:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite books as a child was Eleanor H. Porter's Pollyanna. I read the book several times and enjoyed the movie over and over. This part always jumped out at me:

"You don't seem ter see any trouble bein' glad about everythin'," retorted Nancy, choking a little over her remembrance of Pollyanna's brave attempts to like the bare little attic room.

Pollyanna laughed softly.

"Well, that's the game, you know, anyway."

"The--game?"

"Yes; the 'just being glad' game."

"Whatever in the world are you talkin' about?"

"Why, it's a game. Father told it to me, and it's lovely," rejoined Pollyanna. "We've played it always, ever since I was a little, little girl. I told the Ladies' Aid, and they played it--some of them."

"What is it? I ain't much on games, though."

Pollyanna laughed again, but she sighed, too; and in the gathering twilight her face looked thin and wistful.

"Why, we began it on some crutches that came in a missionary barrel."

"Crutches!"

"Yes. You see I'd wanted a doll, and father had written them so; but when the barrel came the lady wrote that there hadn't any dolls come in, but the little crutches had. So she sent 'em along as they might come in handy for some child, sometime. And that's when we began it."

"Well, I must say I can't see any game about that, about that," declared Nancy, almost irritably.

"Oh, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be glad about--no matter what 'twas," rejoined Pollyanna, earnestly. "And we began right then--on the crutches."

"Well, goodness me! I can't see anythin' ter be glad about--gettin' a pair of crutches when you wanted a doll!"

Pollyanna clapped her hands.

"There is--there is," she crowed. "But I couldn't see it, either, Nancy, at first," she added, with quick honesty. "Father had to tell it to me."

"Well, then, suppose you tell me," almost snapped Nancy.

"Goosey! Why, just be glad because you don't--need--'em!" exulted Pollyanna, triumphantly. "You see it's just as easy--when you know how!"

"Well, of all the queer doin's!" breathed Nancy, regarding Pollyanna with almost fearful eyes.

"Oh, but it isn't queer--it's lovely," maintained Pollyanna enthusiastically. "And we've played it ever since. And the harder 'tis, the more fun 'tis to get 'em out; only--only sometimes it's almost too hard--like when your father goes to Heaven, and there isn't anybody but a Ladies' Aid left."

"Yes, or when you're put in a snippy little room 'way at the top of the house with nothin' in it," growled Nancy.

Pollyanna sighed.

"That was a hard one, at first," she admitted, "specially when I was so kind of lonesome. I just didn't feel like playing the game, anyway, and I had been wanting pretty things, so! Then I happened to think how I hated to see my freckles in the looking-glass, and I saw that lovely picture out the window, too; so then I knew I'd found the things to be glad about. You see, when you're hunting for the glad things, you sort of forget the other kind--like the doll you wanted, you know."

"Humph!" choked Nancy, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.....

Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed into the tightly-clutched sheet:

"I know, father-among-the-angels, I'm not playing the game one bit now--not one bit; but I don't believe even you could find anything to be glad about sleeping all alone 'way off up here in the dark--like this. If only I was near Nancy or Aunt Polly, or even a Ladies' Aider, it would be easier!"

Down-stairs in the kitchen, Nancy, hurrying with her belated work, jabbed her dish-mop into the milk pitcher, and muttered jerkily:

"If playin' a silly-fool game--about bein' glad you've got crutches when you want dolls--is got ter be--my way--o' bein' that rock o' refuge--why, I'm a-goin' ter play it--I am, I am!"

--Eleanor H. Porter, Pollyanna, Chapter V

God and I have been playing a version of Pollyanna's game, lately, except for me it's not a game. It's a mindset. Pollyanna's goal was to find something to be glad about in every situation. My goal is to find something that I can thank God for in every situation.

Every good thing in my life is a gift from God to me. Even the clouds have their silver linings, because God works even in struggles and hurts and hard times. I want to learn to find the silver linings. I won't always be glad about everything, but God has said to "give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God..." And I've found in my own life that thankfulness leads to joy, which is deeper than fleeting happiness. I only wish I remembered that more often...

The other day, we were playing volleyball in PE class. I got in ready position as the ball came whizzing over the net, fueled by a hard, fast serve. I bounced it right back over the net, scoring a point. My team was elated. It was our first point, and I must say it was rather impressive. However, the glory was short-lived. On our next turn, I again readied myself as the ball came whizzing over the net, fueled by another vigorous and powerful serve. Unfortunately, I miscalculated the ball's aim.

And I missed hitting the ball. Instead, the ball hit me. In the jaw. Really hard. The coach blew the whistle and asked me if I was okay. I said I didn't know. My face was numb. They made me sit down and brought me some ice. And so I sat there during the last few minutes of our game with the icepack on my face, quivering slightly from the sudden bolt of adrenaline coursing through my body, and I was thankful.

I kid you not. It was definitely a God thing. Believe me, I am not capable of turning on thankfulness like a lightbulb. I'm most definitely human. But God opened my eyes to see so many reasons for thankfulness! I was thankful that the ball didn't break my nose. I was thankful that I got hit and not one of the younger girls on our team--I had switched positions with her. She probably would have been really shaken up. I was thankful that God gave me a jaw to protect my teeth. I was thankful that my mouth was closed and I didn't inadvertently take a bite out of my tongue when the ball hit. I was thankful for God's protection and His presence.

I was thankful the next day, too. Thankful that I wasn't the least bit sore and I didn't have the faintest bruise. Thankful that there were no hard feelings between me and the girl whose serve whacked me. Thankful for the things God has been teaching me about thankfulness (more on that here).

And so the volleyball episode has been recorded as one small victory. A baby step on the incredible journey of following Jesus. I'm asking Him, now, to show me the little blessings and the silver linings every day.

emerging triumphant

2008-08-27T19:46:00.000-06:00

In more ways than one. Last night, I boarded a ship, rescued my dying little friend from multiple dramatic deaths, revived an ailing yet adorable puppy from numerous illnesses, arose at midnight to save many people from horrific shark attacks, and tickled some sense into the deserting captain of our ship. What audacity--he deserted us, and then called me to rescue him! And yes, I emerged triumphant, the heroine of the day.

I hope you didn't take that seriously. Because if you haven't already guessed, I was babysitting.

School has been going so well! I really, really like it a lot. My classmates are really nice and a lot of fun. My classes are very interesting and the teachers are amazing. They want to help us succeed and they care about us. For once in my life, I'm staying super organized with notes, binders, homework, etc. I have a new system for managing homework that I'm excited about. I just need to manage my time at home more efficiently so I can be getting more than five hours of sleep at night!

Later, alligator...

an earthen vessel and a lump of clay

2008-08-22T17:47:00.000-06:00

These are some things that God has been working in me for months. At the retreat, He really solidified these things in my heart.

I tend to try too hard to follow Jesus. I try to do things in my own strength. I keep slipping into the subconscious mindset that it's up to me to follow Jesus, that it's up to me to grow and to make a difference. God really worked in that area of my life this week. Christianity isn't about my efforts. It's about Christ. And it's "Christ in you, the hope of glory." Praise God--it's not up to me!

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us." --2 Corinthians 4:7

Other versions say "earthen vessels." The main thing God really brought home to me was that that is what I am. An earthen vessel. Made from dust. But that's not the point. The point is the treasure inside--Christ. And the power belongs to God. Not to me.

Last year, I was praying one night when God gave me a word picture. He said to imagine a vase or a pitcher, sitting on a table. It's a nice decoration, right? Maybe a centerpiece? Either way, it definitely draws attention to itself. Now imagine that same vase or pitcher filled with gold and rubies. Suddenly, the vase is no longer important in and of itself. The contents are of supreme worth. The vase becomes merely a vessel in which to hold the treasure. It's not important anymore.

I believe that this is a picture of how my life should look. The Bible tells me that I'm an earthen vessel. A jar of clay. This doesn't mean that I'm worthless or cheap--I'm a ransomed, beloved daughter of the King of the universes, formed by His hands and precious in His eyes. But I'm still an earthen vessel, made of dust. I'm here to display the supreme worth of Christ. He is the treasure. He holds the power.

I appreciate Eugene Peterson's paraphrase of this verse (in the Message//Remix version):

"If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That's to prevent anyone from confusing God's incomparable power with us." 2 Corinthians 4:7

Another word picture God gave me this weekend was from Jeremiah, where He tells Jeremiah to go down to the potter's house. God tells him that He's the Potter and Israel is the clay. The analogy isn't quite the same for me, but God is the Potter in my life. He gently showed me that I'm a lump of clay. Does the lump of clay turn itself into a beautiful vessel? Is it responsible for shaping itself? No. That's the Potter's job. And God showed me that it's His job to mold me and shape me and grow me in His ways. I need to trust Him to do this in me.

Now that doesn't exempt me from personal responsibility for my walk with Jesus. I have a job too (I'll get to that in a minute). But it relieves me of such a burden! My relationship with Jesus doesn't depend on how hard I try. It doesn't rely on the little strength I can muster. God is the treasure and I am the earthen vessel--the surpassingly great power is His. He's the Potter and I am the clay. My job is not to shape myself. My job isn't to grow myself. That's God's job. He will be faithful to shape me into the girl He wants me to be. I don't have to worry about that.

My job is threefold--first comes trust. I have to trust God fully. No two ways around it. This is something God has been working in me a lot over the last few years. A big part of it is that He's opening my eyes to the greatness of His love. It's amazing! God's brought me to this place, where I want to trust Him fully. My life belongs in His hands. If everything was left up to me, I wouldn't do a very good job of living. In fact, my life would be a mess!

But everything's not up to me. I can trust the One who "loved me, and gave Himself for me." What it comes down to is a conscious, day-by-day, moment-by-moment choice to place my trust--all of it--in God alone. Not in myself. He is worthy of my trust.

The second thing I need to do is surrender. As a lump of clay, I have to trust the nail-scarred hands of my Potter. If I try to run and hide and resist His touch, I'll never become the living fulfillment of His beautiful plan for me. I have to surrender and give myself completely to God. Every part of me. Every day of my life.

I've struggled with surrender for a long time. I've known for years that God desired my complete and total surrender. It took me a long time to get to the place where I was willing. I gradually surrendered, more and more, until World Mandate (a missions conference) where God opened my eyes and I saw that this life is not worth living at all without Jesus. And that's far more than a cliche. It's the raw and painfully beautiful Truth. With a capital T.

At that point, I gave myself completely to God and His purposes, whatever they may be. It was hard. It was painful. But I wouldn't have my life any other way. I find so much joy in this place! But total surrender isn't just a one-time choice. It's a daily dying to self. Some days it's really hard for me (okay, a lot of days). Sometimes I just don't feel like it. But surrender is worth it. Jesus is worth my surrender.

The third thing I need to do is obey. That flows out of my trust and surrender. If I am truly living in a place of total surrender, trusting God completely, I will obey His Word and the prompting of His Spirit. And it won't always be easy. In fact, it will rarely be easy. But obedience is worth it, because Christ is worthy of my life.

God is so good. I've been somewhat confused lately about what I should do--the practical outworking of following Jesus. I was trying to do it in my own strength. That doesn't work. I am so grateful to the Lord for what He's been doing. He's released me from the pressure I wasn't meant to carry. He is a great God, and He is big enough to handle my small life. I don't even have to worry about it, because this isn't about me. It's about JESUS. All I need to do is Trust. Surrender. Obey. This is how I want to live my life.

home again

2008-08-22T16:26:00.000-06:00

I'm home from the back-to-school retreat. It was really a wonderful time. We (the high-schoolers and teachers at CHS) stayed in cabins by the lake at Sky Ranch, a nice retreat facility near Tyler.

I met a lot of people. We had 79 people at the retreat, and I knew about nine of them. I know I didn't meet all seventy of the others, but it was still pretty confusing, trying to keep names, faces and classes straight. But everyone was really nice. I made quite a few new friends. I'm looking forward to being at school with these people. It's going to be great!

One thing that was really great about the retreat was that teachers came, too, and hung out with us. It was a neat opportunity to be able to meet people and connect outside of class. Also, I can't think of a better way to start the school year--getting to be with God and each other, preparing our hearts and minds.

Winkie Pratney came and taught a session. Our main speaker was Ryan Dalgliesh. All the sessions were excellent. I was so encouraged. God taught me, again, that following Him is about dying. Daily. Dying to the flesh and the world and sin, that we may walk in new life, true life, found in Christ. See the next post for the things God's teaching me.

identity

2008-08-19T07:58:00.000-06:00

Last night was Meet-the-Teacher night at Christian Heritage. I was wondering if I would be nervous, meeting so many new people. (For the record, new people don't usually make me nervous! It's just that going-to-school is all so new for me.) But God is good, and He reminded me of who I am in Him--I am His precious and beloved daughter, chosen, ransomed, redeemed, purified, and given new life in His ways. And not alone. I'm never alone.

That reminder helped me a lot, because I didn't have to worry about making a good impression or wonder what people thought of me. I could just be myself, the way God made me, knowing that I am His.

I didn't want to just make a good impression, anyway. I want people to know me, not some shiny plastic image I hide behind. And the real me is found in Christ. My identity doesn't stem from who I am. I am defined by Whose I am. What peace is found in this!

I met a lot of my classmates and teachers. Everyone was really nice and friendly. I'm on my way to a back-to-school retreat for the next few days, and I'm looking forward to that. God is good!

a prayer

2008-08-17T16:43:00.000-06:00

"Teach me the happy art of attending to things temporal

with a mind intent on things eternal."

Yes! This is my prayer. I've been reading Valley of Vision lately. It's a collection of Puritan prayers and devotions (written by Charles Spurgeon, John Bunyan, David Brainerd, Isaac Watts, and other men previously unknown to me) compiled by Arthur Bennet. This quote is from Valley of Vision, but I don't remember which prayer.

Summer's end

2008-08-15T13:05:00.000-06:00

Summer is drawing to a close. That's almost hard to believe, although I'm feeling ready for school to begin.

The best of the summer: my favorite part was definitely volunteering at Circle of Friends Camp (you can read about that here and here). Working with these special children and their families is a joy and a privilege. To be able to serve in this way is a tremendous gift from God to me.

As a side note, this camp was the best one yet. I know I say that every time I come home, but it's always true! As volunteers, we're continually learning how to function as a stronger and more efficient team. God has blessed Circle of Friends Camp so much. I get to go back in two weeks for the Labor Day Camp, and I'm thrilled about that! I'm really looking forward to hanging out with my friend Bethany (photo of us here). Here's a picture of me and my new buddy Michael, who swims like an absolute fish and likes to sing opera with me:

Speaking of pictures, I've taken a lot this summer. That's been fun, but I'm getting tired of taking pictures of flowers. They're pretty, but I want to photograph something else for a change. I'll be in a photography/art class at school this semester (and I am super excited!), so I'll probably get to take lots of pictures of other things.

Another great happening this summer: the whole going-to-school thing. God has been so faithful to work everything out, even down to getting me into the classes I wanted and helping us find the uniform stuff I needed. I'm so thankful that He cares about every detail in my life!

This is an excerpt from a post over at the BFtH blog, entitled "What you shouldn't pray for"
(follow the link and scroll down to see it).

"In Charles Spurgeon's autobiography, the story is told of how God miraculously provided two seemingly trivial gifts to Mrs. Spurgeon.....
"Does anyone doubt that this bird was a direct love-gift from the pitiful Father! Do I hear someone say, 'Oh! it was all 'chance' that brought about such coincidences as these'? Ah, dear friends! Those of you who have been similarly indulged by Him know, of a certainty, that it is not so. He who cares for all the works of His hand, cares with infinite tenderness for the children of His love, and thinks nothing which concerns them too small or too trivial to notice."
Repeatedly throughout the New Testament, God makes clear that He wants us to prove our confidence in Him by offering up our petitions and praises. "Cast your cares upon Him for He cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7) "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (1 Thessalonians 5:16-17)

While meditating on God's majesty is something I ought to spend more time on, and God doesn't appreciate foolish prayers, I suspect that our natural tendency toward folly doesn't erase God's interest in our "little worries."

And anyway, wouldn't you think that a God who created 228 muscles in a caterpillar's head likes details?" --written by Hannah Farver

I'd encourage you to check out the rest of the post. It discusses God's majesty and our small prayers. It's excellent.

And the end of summer marks the time for me to change my blog's color scheme. I like going seasonal--cooler weather, cooler colors. Hope you like blue.

Spilling the beans, finally

2008-08-12T11:27:00.000-06:00

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven..." God is now bringing a season of my life to a close. Psalm 31:15 says "My times are in your hand." I am so glad that the seasons of my life are in God's hand and not my own!

I have been homeschooled all my life. I'm really glad of that. Homeschooling has definitely been the best thing for me thus far--being at home with my family has been wonderful developmentally and spiritually. But the season in my life for homeschooling has been brought to a close.

I will be going to Christian Heritage School for my junior and senior years. Seeing God's hand in this has been amazing. He truly has worked everything out so that I can go to school.

We have a back-to-school retreat next week, and school starts next Friday. I have a few summer reading assignments to finish and we need to go shopping. Getting ready for school is all still rather novel.

It's with slightly mixed feelings that I'm preparing for school. Part of me doesn't know what to expect, because the whole school experience is completely new to me. But I'm not nervous, just excited. I think I'll really like school a lot. This is where God's placed me. And this is where I'm glad to be.

I'm home

2008-08-11T13:25:00.000-06:00

And I'm exhausted. This camp was the best one yet. More later.

Blog ya later, alligator!

2008-08-04T13:28:00.000-06:00

I'm taking a blogging break for the next week. Until next Monday, I won't be posting or reading blogs. Why? Because I think that blogging is a good thing for me and a beneficial part of my life. And reading blogs can be good and worthwhile too. But I'm taking the week off because blogging is becoming too important to me. I'm focused on it more than I should be. And that's not what I want. I want to be focused on God, and Him alone. Sometimes blogging helps me in this. But when it starts to become a distraction, and take my focus away from God, it's time to make a choice. I choose God.

I'll be using the hour or so a day I would normally spend on the computer to read the Bible and seek the Lord. I'm excited to see what He will teach me!

I'll be at Circle of Friends Camp Friday night through Monday afternoon. I'm re-posting my list of prayer requests:

Pray for the children, that God would use this weekend to bless them mightily

Pray for the volunteers, that God would pour His love through us like never before

Pray for the families, that this weekend would be a time of rest and refreshing

Pray for the camp as a whole, that the days will go smoothly, that everything we say and do would be pleasing to the Lord

If the Lord brings it to mind, I would be blessed by your prayers.

The time has come for me to say sayonara. Blog ya Monday!

Good and perfect gifts

2008-08-03T15:26:00.000-06:00

I painted these flowers two years ago. I remember sitting outside on a breezy day under a bell-tower and just painting. I loved that. After I finished it, I drew all over it in pencil. I don't know if you can see it, but that's my favorite thing about the picture.

I don't have much of anything to post today--shocking, I know. I was looking forward to blogging this afternoon, but now that I get the chance, no grand and important ideas waltz through my head. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

But I'm OK with this. Maybe sometimes it's better to have nothing to say. That is, nothing huge and amazing. Because God works through the littlest things of life just as much as the big things. So this post is about how God has worked in my life in a lot of seemingly "small" ways that maybe aren't so small at all...

On Friday I'm going back to Circle of Friends Camp, praise God. I'm excited to see what He will do. Volunteering is a very unique opportunity, and I love it. At camp, I have the opportunity to serve in a greater capacity...

The main thing I like about camp is the structure for service. As a volunteer, I have the responsibility of taking care of a child for the weekend (thirty hours). That means that I am expected to meet the child's physical needs, be a good friend to them, and help them have the best camp experience possible.

To accomplish these goals, I have to choose to lay down my own agenda and serve even when it gets hard. God is so good to me in this. Last Memorial Day, my little friend enjoyed being in the sun and running around a lot. I got tired and very sweaty. But when I was inwardly frustrated and when I was wearing thin, I called on God and He gave me not only strength and energy and ideas to bless my little friend but also JOY in laying down my personal agenda and preferences to make camp special for the child. God met every need I had, even the littlest things.

Of course God always meets all my needs, not just at camp! But at that time, God was opening my eyes to His blessings in an altogether new way.

God gave me joy and peace when I was frustrated. He gave me fellowship with Him when I was unable to sleep. He gave me several breaks at the times I needed them most. He gave me wonderful opportunities to serve above and beyond what was expected of me. He gave me a good partner to work with--the best possible person I could have partnered with, even though I didn't see it at first. God attuned my heart to the voice of His Holy Spirit, and He guarded my lips and kept me from saying anything I'd regret later. He wisely and tenderly guided me through each moment. And through it all, God gave me a new awareness of His blessings.

Every good thing in my life is a gift from Him. I take so many gifts for granted. How different my life would be if I lived every day in the mentality I had at camp! I was on the lookout for His blessings, and I was coming to Him for my every need. And He showed me His blessings (although I may not ever realize the full extent of His great gifts) and fulfilled my every need, even when He did it in a different way than I expected. It's like the Bible says:

"Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." --James 1:16-17, emphasis mine

And in the words of Jesus:

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" --Matthew 7:7-11

After camp, I made a list of all the different ways God blessed me just during camp weekend. I ended up with about 140 blessings, and those were only the ones I could see. Some were large (more-than-abundant energy on very little sleep!) and some were small.

This is how I want to live every day of my life. I want to constantly be on the lookout for blessings and see them for what they are: God's good gifts lavishly and abundantly bestowed upon me. I want to live in perpetual thanksgiving to God for every good gift--from the blood of His Son, Jesus Christ (He's the greatest gift of all!), to the kindness of a friend, to the bird outside my window. Because every truly good thing in my life is a gift from God. I ask that He would open my eyes to this reality. At camp, when I was seeing God's blessings, I was constantly praising Him for them as well as simply for Who He is. And living in such praise and joy was amazing. I want to live every day in the constant realization of God's goodness and giving thanks for that goodness constantly. God is worthy of praise at all times, not only for the gifts He's given but for Who He is. He is a most perfect and loving Father who delights in giving good gifts to His children!

I don't remember who said this, and I may not even remember it correctly, but I read this quote and I really liked it:

"Be on the lookout for God's mercies. Blessings brighten when you count them." Yes!

Hmm. I thought I didn't have much to say--but perhaps God did! What good gifts has He given you lately?

In that freedom, bold

2008-08-01T18:58:00.000-06:00

"How does the meadow flower its bloom unfold?
Because the little flower is free
Down to its root, and in that freedom, bold."

William Wordsworth

That thing I do

2008-07-26T14:13:00.000-06:00

I just realized that somebody out there might not know what I mean when I write about chalk art. Here's a general explanation.

I am a chalk artist. I do chalk art presentations as a means to share God's truth. During a presentation, I draw a large picture and share a devotional that goes with it. The pictures provide visual aid and help to drive the point home. Chalk art is universal--everyone can understand and enjoy a presentation. It's a unique, memorable experience that will be remembered for years to come.

A chalk art presentation is primarily about the message. If the audience leaves remembering only the drawing, then the artist has failed. As chalk artists, we look at the drawings as a means to plant the seeds of God's truth. The point is to get the message across--whether it's an encouragement to believers, a story of God's faithfulness, a personal testimony, a salvation message--the possibilities are limitless.

I especially enjoy drawing in Sunday school classes. Sometimes I substitute when our teachers are traveling. Right now I'm looking into several possible opportunities to draw more often in the fall.

My teacher is a well-known chalk artist who did 520 presentations just last year. He is an incredible artist and a great communicator of truth. He has pushed me beyond what I ever thought I could achieve and has constantly encouraged me to learn, grow, and share the Word of God. I have been incredibly blessed to know him and to learn from him. If you would like information about his classes, please contact me.

Chalk artists use special easels (large ones that travel well) with lightboxes. When I first started drawing, I had a bulky and unweildy plywood easel with no lights. That easel was fine at first, but I knew I would never be able to fly with it or to take it to other countries. However, I didn't have several thousand dollars to spend on a travel easel with a decent light set. God provided one for me in an amazing way!

While I was at my first class, my mom mentioned to an acquaintance that I was learning to be a chalk artist. That lady said that her father used to be a missionary and that he was looking for someone to whom he could give his old equipment. We got in touch with Mr. Taber, and he gave me a travel easel that he had built himself and used for forty years in the jungles of the Philippines. It all comes apart and fits into two aluminum boxes. This easel has a fancy light box and can be set up in less than fifteen minutes! Not only did Mr. Taber give me the easel, but he also gave me some valuable drawing supplies and resource books. God used Mr. Taber to bless me beyond words. I have also been blessed through my teacher, who holds wonderful classes within an hour of my home. God has blessed me in chalk art more ways than I can count. Praise Him!

"Rooter"...that was me!

2008-07-25T22:48:00.000-06:00

This is how I look after I spend the day working on chalk art...

I don't normally get this dusty when I draw. Today, I drew all day and used lots of black and brown chalk. I was tired, so I touched my face more often than usual. And by the end of the day, I just didn't care whether or not I got any blacker!

I was notorious in the first class I took for being dusty. My teacher would tease me about my "warpaint," and one of the more advanced students decided to call me "Rooter." That day, I only had it on my nose--he said I looked like I had been rooting around in the chalk boxes with my nose, like a little pig! It was funny, though--his favorite trick was to tell me I had chalk under my chin (I usually did) and he'd offer to wipe it off for me. When I raised my chin, he'd smear magenta chalk on it with his thumb. It didn't usually make much of a difference, except that my face looked more modern-art and abstract!

Anyway, chalk art class couldn't be better! I'm learning a lot and having a blast. God's blessed me in every way imaginable--from the opportunity to share His truth in a unique and unforgettable way to the kindness of the other people involved in the class.

Tomorrow, I won't look very dirty, because we'll be drawing invisible pictures. It's going to be difficult--invisible pictures are much more difficult than ordinary drawings. The trick is to get them to stay invisible. To draw an invisible picture, we use invisible chalk, but you can see the paper. So I'll be dusty, but it'll be an invisible mess. No joke.

Yes, I'm completely serious. No, I won't explain. You'll just have to come to a presentation and see for yourself!

Goodnight!

P. S. Yes, I washed my face. Three times over!

You know you're a chalk artist when you swab your ear and the Q-tip comes out multi-colored. And blowing your nose can be exciting, after inhaling so much colored dust...never mind.

Goodnight!

Here I go again...

2008-07-24T10:11:00.000-06:00

This weekend I'm taking another chalk art class, so I won't be posting until Saturday. I'm excited!

This is what ANTICIPATION looks like...

2008-07-20T15:05:00.000-06:00

And this is what FRUSTRATION looks like....

Those nutty squirrels must have gone green...or red, as the case may be...

And this is what VICTORY looks like!

And I smiled

2008-07-15T18:19:00.000-06:00

"And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed round our incompleteness,
Round our restlessness His rest..."

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Rhyme of the Duchess"

Reality strikes back...

2008-07-15T17:30:00.000-06:00

In a good sort of way.

I've been keeping a baby here at home these past two days. Her family (neighbors) are moving, and between packers, movers, and cleaning, they thought it would be best for her to be with me. So I've been busy with naptimes and diapers and burpings and lullabies and snuggles (the best part of all!). Naomi's three months old and absolutely adorable. I have really enjoyed having her here. Makes me want to be a mom, someday...

Naomi's gone home now, and I just finished up some leftover schoolwork. I went running yesterday. I'm trying to learn to like running. The cleaning bug has bit me, so I'm enthusiastically sorting and organizing. I have a piece of thread tied around my ear, with a pendant dangling from it (hey, I was sorting things and I couldn't reach my pocket). Today, cleaning's fun--I hope it lasts! Tomorrow and Thursday I'll be busy. I have a couple things to do in town (I guess I am in town, but I tend to stay at home a lot). I haven't been out of the neighborhood since Sunday morning! So reality is coming back to me, but it's a good thing.

I'm working on memorizing Romans 12. I go up and down with memorizing so much! I start strong, then I forget, or just skip it, or (worst of all) forget it. But today I took another step in the right direction. And that's what counts.

I like Romans 12 a lot. The chapter's about being transformed, not conformed, and the Body of Christ, and the last part is full of practical instructions for life. "Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil, cling to what is good..." I am so glad that God has given us instructions about how we can live lives that are pleasing to Him. I'm so thankful He didn't just leave us to try to live a good life with no guidelines. "Be devoted to one another in brotherly love, give preference to one another in honor...serving the Lord, rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer..." Yes! Our God is good. He knows what we need, praise Him!

Beyond my wildest dreams

2008-07-13T13:21:00.000-06:00

I'm blessed. I want to share with you today just one of the countless blessings God has lavished upon me--my brothers.

Drew is so much fun to be with! He likes to hang out with me, and I love being with him. We talk a lot, and just hang out. He's very kind and thoughtful. Drew is such a gentleman. He voluntarily allows me to sit in the front seat every time we get in the car (I let him sit there, too, but even if I didn't he wouldn't say anything!). Drew goes out of his way every day to open doors for me and to do me favors, and he can always make me laugh. Drew is an amazing brother.

Daniel is also fun to be with! He shares his life with me. Whether it's something funny that happened at swimming, a new chord he's learned on his guitar, or just what he did today, Daniel is eager to share it with me. I've been so amazed lately as Daniel has taken me ballroom dancing and learned to waltz and cha-cha just for me. There's no one else I'd rather dance with, and I feel like a princess as he gallantly escorts me around the ballroom on his arm. He's such an amazing brother.

I've been blessed beyond my wildest dreams in my brothers. I never imagined that we would all be such good friends. Sure, we don't always get along...but we love each other. I couldn't ask for a better pair of brothers! I love them so much.

"My life is a series of unfortunate events!"

2008-07-08T15:45:00.001-06:00

What I was wailing a few minutes ago, preceded by "OOOOUUUUUCH! Oow, owW, OUCH! UGH!"

Proceed at your own risk! The following content is uncensored and may contain hilarious but unnecessary drama, overuse of italics, and (shocking, I know) sentence fragments. If you're an English teacher, you might as well just stop here unless your sense of humor is well oiled and in proper working order.

Today I met with a series of unfortunate accidents. I was wearing flipflops and I sat down at the computer for a moment. When I sit in that swively chair, my feet automatically exit my flipflops. Really, it's quite astounding. The problem is that my toes suffer from short-term memory loss and they usually forget to re-enter their flipflops before I leave the computer. And we don't go barefoot at my house.

Anyway, my feet followed their usual course of action quite absent-mindedly. I wanted to post some Independence Day pictures, but I let Mom use my memory card up at the church. The first unfortunate accident was that I forgot to upload my pictures onto our home computer. Bummer. So I decided to blog a great quote I found in a book. I went to find the book, but I tripped on the ironing board and sliced my little toe across the top. That was the second unfortunate accident.

Of course, this necessitated some first-aid treatment, so with a squirt of Bactine and a few dabs with a cottonball, I was ready to find that book. No luck. Third unfortunate event. And then I looked down and discovered that my toe was bleeding again. So I made a beeline for the first-aid cabinet only to find that the fabric Band-Aids (the ones I like) were missing. They vanished. I used them yesterday. Fourth unfortunate accident--I forgot to put them away. And so I was left with the cheap nasty kind that never fits and looks ugly and falls apart when you try to see if the bleeding stopped.

As I was making my way back to the computer, duly bandaged and frustrated (I still hadn't found that book), I tripped on our very thick dictionary. Fifth unfortunate happening. And I didn't trip the normal way, oh-no-no-no, I tripped with one toe. My injured one. Sixth unfortunate event, which led to my wailing and howling (something I hardly ever do), which brought my brother out of the back bedroom to see if I was alright (actually, he heard "UNFOOOORTUNATE EVEEEEENTS" and thought I was making a joke).

All this for a blog post!

And the moral of the story is:

Don't leave your flipflops at the computer chair by mistake, and if you do, avoid the ironing board at all costs. The best course of action would be to wear steel-toed boots, or at least tennis shoes, for the rest of your life. When you use the Band-Aids, put them away in the right place (I just found them in the wrong drawer) because you'll absolutely, positively, certainly need them tomorrow. If you take pictures, upload them onto the computer ASAP, because if you don't you'll be wishing you had all week long. When you see a great quote in a book, don't wait--write it in your notebook right away. Because you might not be able to find the book later. When you see the dictionary out of its place, return it immediately (especially if your kind and thoughtful brother got it out just for you because you didn't know what a battalion was). And last, but not least, the cardinal rule: when you're in the woeful depths of despair never, never, never make allusions to books that are great family favorites, because your family won't take you seriously. They'll think you're joking. Especially if it's Lemony Snicket.

The End.

joyful mornings

2008-07-08T15:45:00.000-06:00

Look what I found on the Honey Bunches of Oats box.

As if a year's supply of Honey Bunches cereal and a new coffemaker would really make every morning a joyful morning.

Psalm 92:2 ESV
To declare your steadfast love in the morning,
and your faithfulness by night...

My mornings have been quite joyful lately. But that's certainly not due to Honey Bunches of Oats and Maxwell House coffee (I don't even like Honey Bunches, and I rarely drink coffee). My mornings are joyful because I go to sleep each night talking with Jesus, at peace in His faithfulness. And when I wake up He reminds me once again of His steadfast love, His unfailing grace, His mighty power, His tender love, His constant nearness, and His mercies that are new every morning. And I am moved, once again, to fully surrender all that I am into the nail-scarred hands of my Lord. I can't think of a better way to begin my day!

So forget the Honey Bunches! Even though I don't feel "happy" every morning, I have been given joy beyond words. I belong to an incomparable, matchless, glorious Savior King! And there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Because who I am doesn't really matter--it's Whose I am. And I am HIS.

Independence Day "Pocksickles"

2008-07-06T11:55:00.000-06:00

On July 4th, we spent a very fun evening with these cuties....

And these beauties....

And a bunch of other friends. I was so blessed to just be able to hang out with friends. I really don't get that opportunity too often. We ate dinner and "pocksickles," talked and laughed, and played many rounds of Spoons and Scum. Our Independence Day couldn't have been better!

My favorite verse of our National Anthem:

"Oh, thus be it ever when free men shall stand
Between their loved home and war's desolation,
Bless'd with vict'ry and peace
May the Heav'n-prospered land
Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserved us a nation.
And conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust!"
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave
When the land of the free is the home of the brave."

--Francis Scott Key

Life is good...

2008-06-24T09:54:00.000-06:00

Life is good...because God is great! These past few days I've been at home, a welcome change after the hustle and bustle of Day Camp. By the way, Day Camp went very smoothly. It couldn't have been better! God's hand was evident.

So, just being at home, I haven't been doing anything large and impressive. But I'm okay with that! I've been enjoying the little everyday moments:

Sitting with my brother on the porch at sunset, washing fresh basil leaves from my garden, while he strums on his guitar. Hanging my damp laundry in the sunshine to dry, and bringing it in again smelling summertime sweet. Doing algebra (really, I don't detest math like I used to!) Washing dishes by hand, reading good books--the Bible and Pride and Prejudice. Cooking and gardening--I'm waiting for my tomatoes to turn red! I've been taking lots of pictures and sitting outside in the grass or on the swing, pondering life and talking with God. I've been singing over the dishes, and the laundry, and the housework, and I've been reading God's Word. Learning, growing, drawing near.

I don't always enjoy being home as much as I do today. But I'm so happy to be here now, because God is with me. He is so faithful to draw me ever nearer. I'm continually amazed by the vastness of God's love and the immensity of the sacrifice he made for me. "As high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to His children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him." (from Psalm 103)

a question

2008-06-15T21:59:00.000-06:00

I'm rather curious as to who visits my blog. Do you?

God is near

2008-06-15T21:09:00.000-06:00

This week, I'm going to be volunteering for our church's Day Camp, "Exploring Christ in the Amazon." I get to be one of the Tribal Leaders for our tribe of thirteen kindergartners. We're the Purple Parrots. I'm really excited about the week! Everyone has been working like crazy this past weekend to transform the Sprung building into the Amazon. In the words of an impressed onlooker, "Wow, this is going to be, like, pretty much intense!" God has blessed this whole process in more ways than we can count.

Right now I'm loading up the mp3 player with music for Dad. I just finished twisting a few last-minute vines for the Amazon. My garden is thirsty. My book is overdue at the library. I wish I was asleep. I miss those of you whom I haven't gotten to talk with in what feels like ages. And God is near. Always.

God's really been impressing His closeness upon me, lately. I always heard that "God will never leave you or forsake you," and I believed it. But for some reason I never fully got it, I think. So God's been showing me more every day that He's nearer than my very breath. We worship a truly awesome God! He's not distant and cold and pompous. He's intimately and intricately involved in my life. He cares about every moment of my day, every tiny detail and thought and feeling. He loves me enough to never leave me. Ever. This takes my breath away.

God is everything that I need and he is a Father who delights to give me good gifts. One of the results of knowing God's presence more is seeing His hand in every minute of my day. He's opening up my eyes to see His blessings upon me. And they are more than abundant. I know I'll never be able to fully understand how much God has blessed me, but He's showing me that every good thing in my life is a gift from Him. And I'm blown away.

I am so humbled to see God's fingerprints all over my life. His love is overwhelming. There is no one like Him!

We sang a song in church today called "Faithful Father," by Brian Doerksen. I love these lyrics:

Father, I can't explain this kind of love
This kind of grace
I know I still break your heart
And yet You run to welcome me

Father, I love the way You hold me close
And say my name
I know when my life is through
My heart will find its home in you

This is my song of praise to you
For who You are and all that You do...
From before the world began
You have been faithful
You will be faithful
Forever faithful
Father

Who else could love like God? His love defies all human reason. Who else could be faithful from before the beginning of time throughout all eternity? Who else is worthy of praise for not only the works He has done, but simply for Who He is? We worship an awesome God!

God's Good Earth: Joys, woes, and a shocking confession

2008-06-06T20:23:00.000-06:00

Last Wednesday, I was enjoying fresh, delicious broccoli from my very own garden. Lo and behold, this morning the broccoli plant's leaves look like Swiss cheese. Or the face of the moon. Or a pasta strainer. Or cheesecloth. Tonight is the last night of the plant's life--I don't relish my broccoli when it's stricken with the Plague of the Miniscule Green Worms. Yuck. It's depressing just to look at my poor plant. I was so proud not to have attracted the little worms plaguing the neighbor down the street, even though I didn't personally do anything to repel them. Pride comes before the worms, I guess...

Even though the broccoli was stricken, I was still encouraged after my survey of the garden. I am continually amazed at the growth rate of my seventeen tomato plants! The flowers are beginning to appear. And the basil is finally getting bushy, thanks to the heat and sun.

Alas, my joy was not to last long. When I showed Dad my garden's progress, we noticed something appalling. MOLES. Just since this morning, the moles have been having a heyday in my poor little garden! Dad says that they're looking for grubs. When I dug up the soil to prepare for planting, I didn't come across any grubs, so I'm hoping that the moles leave as quickly as they've appeared. Unfortunately, the neighborhood has been stricken with Yard Acne (a.k.a. moles) and it's rather hard to shake. However, I hope they leave! They should, unless the grubs have moved in too. Green worms, moles, and grubs (maybe)... when it rains, it pours! UPDATE: The moles left the next day. I KNEW my garden wasn't grub-infested!

I love gardening. I wasn't able to grow much last year, except three cayenne plants which were savagely slaughtered by our neighbors' (late) white rabbit. So I'm really enjoying my garden. I love the feeling of accomplishment I get after I wrestle and conquer monster weeds, after I dig two feet deep to loosen up the soil, after I spend an hour on my knees breaking up clay clods with my hands (like the Miracle-Gro ad says, "It's time for your DIRT MANICURE."). Theodore Roosevelt said, "Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing." And I know I'm going to feel great after I conquer the moles!

When I'm out in the garden, I get to connect with Texas in a different way. My garden is next to a street corner, and so I'm able to greet the neighbors walking to the library (and just ignore the "cool" people in large-wheeled cars with earth-shaking music blasting from within). I like being outside and getting familiar with this little piece of God's good earth. I've watched the pomegranates on the neighbor's bush transform from tiny buds of promise to exotic crimson blossoms to shiny green Chinese lanterns. I've enjoyed the rich red roses and orange lilies in the nearby flowerbed. I've witnessed the blossoming and leafing out and greening up. I see the patterns of the sunlight through the tree branches. I hear the birds sing and scold when I sit under their trees. I feel the rich soil and breathe in the pungently fresh aroma of tomato plant roots. This place is beautiful!

Now for the confession: I think that I'm rather a traitorous gardener. For decades, gardeners have banded together on the offensive against slugs. They have patrolled their plots in the early watches, armed with saltshakers to shrivel slugs up. Thay have set out pans of beer overnight, hoping to drown a veritable slug multitude (plus distant relatives). They have tried countless methods and gizmos.

So here's why I'm traitorous: I like slugs! They're beautiful, I think, and quite misunderstood. They glide smoothly and gracefully across rough terrain, leaving elegant, shimmering silver tracks in the moonlight. Slugs are marvelous! From their cool grey skin to their delicate antennae to their skillful foot fringes, they are beautiful creatures. Slugs constantly remind me of God's unparalleled creativity! I don't believe that they eat garden-fresh bounty out of spite--all they need is a cool, damp shelter (especially in this Texas heat) and a little food to eat. So I'm sympathetic to their cause. When I discover a slug, I gently evacuate him to a safer location (preferably one removed from sharp shovels) provided with plenty of moist shade.

I think it's time that we gardeners begin to treat slugs with dignity. Why should we dispose of them so cruelly, so indignantly? Is it just because they look different than we do? Is it because we think we're better than they are? Is it because we think we own this earth? We need to remember that God made slugs too--let's give them a chance.

why I changed my title

2008-06-03T16:42:00.000-06:00

Sola Gratia. Grace alone.

"...all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus..." (Rom. 3:23-24)

"And from his fulness we have all received, grace upon grace." (John 1:16)

"...we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice..." (Romans 5:1-2)

"For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich." (2 Cor. 8:9)

"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." (Eph. 2:8-9)

"...our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace..." (2 Thess. 2:16)

"For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people..." (Titus 2:11)

"...set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ." (1 Peter 1:13)

"But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone." (Heb. 2:9)

(All Scripture quotations are from the English Standard Version, emphasis mine)

God's grace is unfathomably amazing. No words can adequately describe it. Today I thought a bit about what life would be like without grace. I would be doomed. Seriously. Life would be far worse than "terrible, horrible, awful, no good, very bad." I talk to God all day long, but without grace I would be under His wrath and unable to approach Him. I am blessed in more ways than I may ever know, but that is only because of God's grace.

I don't think it's possible to fully comprehend life without God's grace. But, praise Him, I don't have to! What an undeserved gift has been given to me. 2 Thessalonians (see above) says that God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ loved me and gave me eternal security and good hope through grace. 2 Corinthians says " that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich." All because of grace!

God's grace is the reason I live. My life is fairly ordinary, but I pray that God would give me the eyes to see each day through the lens of His extraordinary grace.

Thank you...

2008-05-30T10:17:00.000-06:00

For all of your prayers. I had all four of my wisdom teeth removed yesterday, and I'm doing much better than I had anticipated. My jaw is sore, but it's not too bad--between reading, journaling, sleeping, thinking, and the occasional movie, I'm doing well. I have THE BEST oral surgeon in the world! Dr. Gordon wouldn't let me be nervous--"It will all be over in a few minutes, dearie," patting my head (I got a kick out of that) and telling me that I'll be fine. I wish he was my uncle.

Thank you again for your prayers. I look forward to seeing everybody soon. I think I'll be at church on Sunday, but I'm not quite sure.

Camp was awesome

2008-05-26T15:04:00.000-06:00

This weekend's camp was the best Circle of Friends Camp we've ever had. God blessed us so, so much. Camp could not have been any better! I am still thinking and processing the whole experience.

The photo is of me and my new friend Jonathan. I was so, so blessed to be able to work with him. Jonathan is an amazing little boy and I was privileged to get to know him. God blessed me in more ways than I can even count. He is so kind to me! Once again, I left a piece of my heart at camp. I'm going back in August.

Prayer requests

2008-05-23T13:13:00.000-06:00

After waiting eight months, two weeks, five days, and twenty-two-and-a-half hours, I only have to wait another hour and a half before leaving for Circle of Friends Camp. Thank God I don't have to wait any longer...but it's all been worth it. I am so, so blessed and privileged to be a part of this ministry.

Here are my prayer requests for this weekend:

For the children, that God would use this weekend to bless them mightily

For the volunteers, that God would pour His love through us like never before

For the families, that this weekend would be a time of rest and refreshing

For the camp as a whole, that the days will go smoothly, that everything we say and do would be pleasing to the Lord

If the Lord brings it to mind, I would be blessed by your prayers.

I'm sure you'll be inundated by a plethora of photographs and stories upon my return. Have a wonderful weekend!

Today's the Day

2008-05-21T20:45:00.000-06:00

Lately, I've been anticipating Circle of Friends Camp. Never mind--I anticipate it all year long! After counting down eight months, two weeks, and three days, I only have two more days to wait! So when I woke up this morning, I thought, with a great tingle of excitement, "Today's the day!" And then I remembered. "Today's not the day. And neither is tomorrow. We don't leave until Friday." I was so disappointed!

Circle of Friends Camp is one of my favorite things I do all year long. I feel like I leave a piece of my heart with those children, and I eagerly long all year for Memorial Day weekend. This week feels like it's taking a month. I'm ready to go TODAY! Really, I feel somewhat like a four-year-old waiting to turn five. "Only two more days? I don't think I'll make it that long!"

So I was really disappointed first thing in the morning, and that wasn't the best way to start my day. I remained rather gloomy for the duration of the morning and afternoon. In the middle of the evening God suddenly banished my clouds and opened my eyes to something amazing. Our conversation went something like this:

Him: "Today's the day!"

Me: "No, Friday's the day!" Sigh.

Him: "No, today's the day--today is the day for you to know me more!"

And so I saw that today's not a wasted day just because it's not the day I'm waiting for. Today is a priceless gift, too! Today is the day to seek and find Jesus. Today is the day to learn and grow. Today is the day to praise, to pray, to rejoice. Today is the day to live! And I am thankful.

"Found love beyond all reason
You gave your life, Your all for me
Called me yours forever...

"Found hope, found life, found all I need
You're all I need!

"The time has come to stand for all we believe in
So I for one am going to give my praise to you
Jesus

"Today, today, it's all or nothing
All the way, the praise goes out to you
Yeah, all the praise goes out to you

"Today, today I live for one thing
To give you praise in everything I do
Yeah, all the praise goes out to you..."

--The Time Has Come, one of my favorite Hillsong United songs

Tonight's the Night

2008-05-16T09:49:00.000-06:00

Tonight's the night...hope you can make it!

Longview Area Youth Symphony Orchestra
In Concert
Friday, May 23, 7:30 PM
Belcher Performance Center
Tickets $5 at the door
Children 10 and under free

And a quick question....do any of you make iced tea? I've been trying to figure out how to do it.

Daisies, in pure adoration...

2008-05-14T08:38:00.000-06:00

If you were to drive along an East Texas highway during this time of year, you would be greeted by abundant clouds of yellow daisies. These hardy little flowers grow wild, brightening the roadsides year after year.

I was in the car the other morning, on my way to church. The air was cool, the sun was shining, dew glistened on the grass, and the birds were singing—an altogether glorious springtime morning. As we drove, I watched the roadside, enjoying the golden flowers. Suddenly, I noticed something I had never realized before. Those flowers all face one way. They face the early morning sun. Those little flowers don’t show off their pretty blossoms by facing the street. Rather, they understand that they need the sun. It is their source of life. So they turn their faces toward it regardless of the passing traffic. The daisies don’t live to be beautiful—they live by and for the sun, and are beautiful because of it.

The Word of God tells me that I, too, am a flower. “As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
and its place knows it no more. (Psalm 103:15-16).” Those beautifully honest flowers know that their life is short. The summer heat will come, inevitably; and they will wither. So they don’t waste any time showing off. They live to bring joy to their Creator.

If I, too, am like a flower, this question arises: How do I live? Do I face the passersby, pridefully showing off the beauty that isn’t really mine? Or do I face the Son, my source of life, living to bring Him joy? For “all things were created through him and for him (Col. 1:16).” I was created for Him! Do I live like it? Are my eyes fixed on Jesus? Is my gaze held fast, or am I distracted? “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.” And my answer—I live too often distracted, worried about others and what they might think. I know that, in the times I found the most peace, I was gazing upon Jesus only. And I long to live more for Him each day.

Lord, grant me grace to keep my eyes upon You. Show me anew that this world isn’t worth looking at except through You. Keep me from petty distraction. Captivate me, draw me, teach me to live for You. Teach me to be like Your little golden daisies, with their faces always turned to the sun. Help me keep my eyes on the Son. I rejoice, for I was made for You! Help me to walk in that more each day. Thank you that I am Your workmanship and that Your work continues. I love You, Lord! Help me live this day for You.

Hugs from the Loch Ness Monsters

2008-05-07T16:34:00.000-06:00

About half an hour ago I heard a loud thunderclap and it started to rain.

Side note: That sentence drives me nuts because it contains no antecedent to the pronoun 'it.' One of the biggest things I learned in English class was that every pronoun must have an antecedent (word it replaces). I used to always write 'There is,' 'there was,' etc.--not anymore. But I'm stumped about the weather sentences. What can I say? The sky started to rain? The weather started to rain? That sounds ridiculous.

I've got it!

About half an hour ago I heard a massive thunderclap. Soon thereafter, precipitation drenched the earth (so that sounds goofy too, but you know what I mean).

The rain was blowing down sideways, and I was worried about all my little plants. Some of them are really small, so I thought they might be broken. The rain was still coming down (hey, that phrase works too!), but I didn't hear thunder so I ventured out to survey the damage. My garden is across the street, so I carefully hopped through the puddles in my very leaky garden shoes (that is, after all, the reason why they're garden shoes). I was pleased to see that all the plants had recieved a healthy drink and were surviving beautifully.

I turned around to go home, and I saw Camila and Lucy, two of the neighbor girls, walking down the street. They were unbelievably wet and dripping. They looked like they had been dragged up out of the bottom of Loch Ness. I was amazed--I was a little wet, but not like that! They walked over to say hello. Suddenly, Camila lunged at me and gave me a huge wet hug! I thought it was really funny--I was wearing old clothes anyway, so I let Lucy hug me too. They slogged their dripping way home, and I danced once again through the puddles and into my home. If I wasn't going to church tonight, I'd go for a wet walk too. I love this rain!

Psalm 103

2008-05-01T21:57:00.000-06:00

Finally, I've finished memorizing Psalm 103. God has blessed me so much in this! I can't wait to memorize more chapters. I wanted to share some of the new things that God has been revealing to me as I've memorized and pondered these verses.

PSALM 103

Verse 1. Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!

All that is within me, bless His holy name. Heart, spirit, soul, and body. I am to bless the Lord not only with my lips, but with my heart. Not only with my heart, but with my lips. Not only with my heart and lips, but with my soul; my mind, will, and emotions. Not only my body, soul, and heart, but my spirit. All that is within me means that I am to bless the Lord with every part of my being.

2. Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits,

Forget not all his benefits. I forget so often. I pray that God would enable me to live with a constant consciousness of His goodness and great worth, a growing understanding of how vast His blessings (benefits) are to me. I believe that God has blessed me more than I will ever fully realize in this life. I find so much joy as He daily reveals His blessings.

3. Who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases,

My favorite word in these verses is all. The Lord is the Forgiver of all my iniquity. He is the Healer of all my diseases. Praise Him!

Also, notice the verb tense here. Forgives, heals, redeems, crowns--all present tense, showing that these acts are constant and unending.

4. Who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

The Lord has redeemed my life from the pit. Merriam-Webster defines redeem as:
1 a: to buy back : repurchase b: to get or win back
2: to free from what distresses or harms: as a: to free from captivity by payment of ransom b: to extricate from or help to overcome something detrimental c: to release from blame or debt : clear d: to free from the consequences of sin
3: to change for the better : reform
4: repair, restore
5 a: to free from a lien by payment of an amount secured thereby b (1): to remove the obligation of by payment redeems savings bonds on demand> (2): to exchange for something of value <redeem trading stamps> c: to make good : fulfill
6 a: to atone for : expiate <redeem an error> b (1): to offset the bad effect of (2): to make worthwhile : retrieve

Source: Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary at http://www.m-w.org, emphasis mine
All these things Christ has done for me. He has bought me back, freed me from captivity by ransom through His blood, extricating me from the darkness of sin, released me from blame and debt, freed me from the guilt of my sin, removed my obligation to pay for my sin, and became the perfect atoning Sacrifice.

But God didn't stop there! He crowns me with steadfast love and mercy. When one bestows steadfast love and mercy to another, it raises the worth of that person.

So, because of the steadfast love and mercy of the Lord, I am crowned as a daughter of the King. No longer am I a slave to sin, but I am a servant of the Lord and exceedingly precious unto Him.

5. Who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

Have you ever met anyone who always wants what they can't have? Who wants their own way even when that's not truly the best way? "I'd rather fight you for what I don't really want than take what you give that I need." People that live in this mindset of pride and selfishness seem to grow old and spiritually ugly really fast, don't they? I think this is so sad.

I would so much rather trust the faithful love and unfailing wisdom of the Lord. I know He has my best interest in mind, even when I don't understand. When I trust Him, I am satisfied that His plans are good. When I am satisfied and rest content in His ever-capable, nail-scarred hands, my youth will be renewed. No cares and worries of this world can reach, trouble or torment me there. I know that I am safe in His hands.

Praise God for all that He is and all that He has done!

It Worked

2008-04-11T08:44:00.000-06:00

After I did my first five-minute segment on the laundry, I did four more. Finally, almost everything is hanging neatly in the closet.

Then, just because it felt so good to actually make a dent in the mess, I decided to do 'circuits' last night. After every five minutes, I would switch to putting away something else. I did laundry, socks, papers, books, closet, dresser, nightstand, etc. Dad's comment: "Wow! So there is a floor in here!"

My goal for the summer: To get my room really clean and to learn to keep it that way. This involves getting rid of stuff, organizing, and learning to keep things put away.

But the benefits will definitely be worth it--no more trepidation when a guest drops by ("I hope they remember that the bathroom is on the left side of the hall. I don't want them to open my door by mistake!") , no more frantically trying to find something lost in the mess, no more having to iron all my t-shirts (my friend thinks I'm crazy) because I didn't put them away before they got wrinkly. When my room is clean, I'm less stressed, I sleep better, I can study more effectively, and I can have friends over to visit. Also, learning to keep my bedroom neat is a skill and a discipline that I don't want to be without.

Now, I just need to distract myself from five-minute-cleaning-segments long enough to get some schoolwork done...

An Idea

2008-04-08T16:47:00.000-06:00

I have been procrastinating my laundry-folding long enough. The dreaded Laundry Monster is voraciously devouring my bedroom.

I will not stand for this any longer!

As soon as I finish typing, I am resolved to spend five minutes vanquishing the beast with all my might and main.

I know five minutes doesn't sound like much. But because it is such a small space of time, I am motivated to work faster. And then I feel so great about accomplishing something that I just might want to do it again. Baby steps!

If I can't completely conquer the Laundry Monster in five minutes, I'll do it again tomorrow. If I do finish the laundry, maybe I'll tackle the howling disastrous wilderness of Underthebed or the treacherous leaning mountains of Stufftoputaway.

I'll let you know how it goes!

Does anyone want to join me? If so, comment about your project and victory!

One Million Satin Blackbirds

2008-03-28T15:47:00.000-06:00

One million satin blackbirds
With caps of Prussian blue
Float about the neighborhood
On breezes swirling through.

They soar like airplanes far above
Cast shadows all around.
The graceful fleet wheels far on high
Then lights upon the ground.

They chatter like coarse fishwives,
They comment on the breeze,
But then a sudden noise is heard--
And they are in the trees!

But one brave bird wings softly down
To try his chance with fate.
The early bird will catch the worm--
He'd rather not be late.

But then his comrade spies him there
And with a clamor of cries
The blackbirds drop like snowflakes dark
They rain down from the skies.

I creep up to the window
To hear the blackbirds' sound--
Of chattered conversation,
Pecking and pattering all around.

I can't resist any longer!
I tap on the windowpane--
Like a cloud of smoke the birds arise
To roost in the trees again.

God made this flock of sable birds,
He knows each one, it's true,
One million satin blackbirds
With caps of Prussian blue.

Good Friday: The Rescue was Accomplished

2008-03-21T14:51:00.000-06:00

In their book When Heaven Weeps, Joni Eareckson Tada and Steve Estes portray Christ's sacrifice from a new perspective. Picture this:

"The face that Moses begged to see--was forbidden to see--was slapped bloody (Exodus 33:19-20). The thorns that God sent to curse the earth's rebellion now twisted around his own brow...

" "On your back with you." One raises a mallet to sink in the spike. But the soldier's heart must continue pumping as he readies the prisoner's wrist. Someone must sustain the soldier's life minute by minute, for no man has this power on his own. Who supplies breath to his lungs? Who gives energy to his cells? Who holds his molecules together? Only by the Son do "all things hold together (Colossians 1:17)." The victim wills that the soldier live on--he grants the warriors continued existence. The man swings.

"As the man swings, the Son recalls how he and the Father first designed the medial nerve of the human forearm--the sensations it would be capable of. The design proves flawless--the nerves perform exquisitely. "Up you go!" They lift the cross. God is on display in his underwear and can scarcely breathe.

"But these pains are a mere warm-up to his other and growing dread. He begins to feel a foreign sensation. Somewhere during this day a foul odor began to waft, not around his nose, but around his heart. He feels dirty. Human wickedness starts to crawl on his spotless being--the living excrement from our souls. The apple of his Father's eye turns brown with rot.

"His Father! He must face his Father like this!

"From heaven the Father now rouses himself like a lion disturbed, shakes his mane, and roars against the shriveling remnant of a man hanging on the cross. Never has the Son seen the Father look at him so, never felt even the least of his hot breath. But the roar shakes the unseen world and darkens the visible sky. The Son does not recognize these eyes.

" "Son of Man! Why have you behaved so? You have cheated, lusted, stolen, gossiped--murdered, envied, hated, lied. You have cursed, robbed, overspent, overeaten--fornicated, disobeyed, embezzled, and blasphemed. Oh, the duties you have shirked, the children you have abandoned! Who has ever so ignored the poor, so played the coward, so belittled my Name? Have you ever held your razor tongue? What a self-righteous, pitiful drunk--you, who molest young boys, peddle killer drugs, travel in cliques, and mock your parents. Who gave you the boldness to rig elections, foment revolutions, torture animals, and worship demons? Does the list never end! Splitting families, [violating] virgins, acting smugly, [leading My sheep astray]--buying politicians, practicing exhortation, filming [filth], accepting bribes. You have burned down buildings, perfected terrorist tactics, founded false religions, traded in slaves--relishing each morsel and bragging about it all. I hate, loathe these things in you! Disgust for everything about you consumes me! Can you not feel my wrath?"

"Of course the Son is innocent. He is blamelessness itself. The Father knows this. But the divine pair have an agreement, and the unthinkable must now take place. Jesus will be treated as if personally responsible for every sin ever committed.

"The Father watches as his heart's treasure, the mirror-image of himself, sinks drowning into raw, liquid sin. Jehovah's stored rage against humankind from every century exploded in a single direction.

" "Father! Father! Why have you forsaken me?!"

"But heaven stops its ears. The Son stares up at the One who cannot, who will not, reach down or reply.

"The Trinity had planned it. The Son endured it. The Spirit enabled him. The Father rejected the Son whom he loved. Jesus, the God-man from Nazareth, perished. The Father accepted his sacrifice for sin and was satisfied. The Rescue was accomplished."

Matthew 25-27
Mark 14-15
Luke 22-23
John 18-19

The following video contains some video clips
from The Passion of the Christ
and may not be suitable for young audiences.

The Rescue was accomplished...and "I Love You" could not be said a better way.

Thank you, Lord..words are not enough.

Azalea Fest

2008-03-19T12:24:00.000-06:00

This past weekend, since it was the last of Dad's spring break, my family and I went to Nacogdoches for the Azalea Festival. Because of last week's freeze, they weren't in full bloom yet, so we skipped the Azalea Drive and went to the Arboretum & Gardens at SFA. It was so beautiful! We ate a picnic lunch on a sunny bench surrounded by pink azaleas, then walked through the trails.

We encountered a highly unusual tree, the tetra-armed oak. I think it's an endangered species.

Some of the azaleas were blooming, but those and the rhododendron hadn't peaked yet. Here are a few of the blooming azaleas. Do you see the bee?

We caught the end of the camellia season. Camellia are some of my favorite flowers! We have a pink camellia bush outside the kitchen window, but I think it's sick--it didn't bloom this year and the leaves are rather yellowish. I guess I need to sing to it more. Did you know that singing to a camellia plant may help it grow better? Evidently, the chemicals in your breath are absorbed through the leaves and act as fertilizer (or something like that, I don't quite remember). However, I don't sit outside and sing to my flower bush--I need a reason. I'd rather wait until I have to mulch or prune.

Come to think of it, the thing I read about singing to camellias also said that you should get really close, and that the louder you sing, the better. Hmm. At least it didn't say that camellia prefer Italian opera--then I really wouldn't believe it! Wouldn't that be a sight--me sitting in the yard with my head stuck into a camellia bush, singing Italian operas at the top of my lungs?

At the gardens, the "tulip trees" were also in bloom. Oh, I love them--how beautiful they are! I learned that they are actually a type of magnolia. I've never seen so much variety in them before--we saw white, yellow, burgundy, and the classic pinks.

We also saw many other beautiful plants (expect pictures in forthcoming posts) but the best part was spending time together, enjoying God's amazing creation. I thank God for my family--I love them!

A Work in Progress

2008-03-18T16:15:00.000-06:00

A work in progress--that's me! I thank the Lord that He's not through with me yet!

"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." --Ephesians 2:10 ESV

"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." --Philippians 1:6 ESV

I was inspired by Bailey's post about her work in progress--a portrait she's drawing (which looks great, by the way!). My current work in progress is not, however, an art project--it's a flute solo. I've been practicing it for some three weeks, and my work is far from over! But I love having a highly challenging piece to work up. Here's a link to an audio recording:

Prokofiev's Sonata in D major: Opus 94, movement II--Scherzo

When I'm finished with the piece, it won't sound quite like that because I won't have a piano accompaniment. But I like it anyway!

"Sing the glory of His name; Make His praise glorious." --Psalm 66:2 NASB

God's showing me that I can make His praise glorious in many ways. I can make His praise glorious as I play my flute--by doing it to the best of my ability, playing for Him, and giving Him glory.

What's your work in progress?

On Reading the Word

2008-03-07T10:29:00.000-06:00

Have you ever read through the whole entire Bible?

I have tried so many times to do this. Inevitably, I would get stuck in Leviticus, Numbers, or Deuteronomy, or I would miss a day on my schedule and get way behind. By that time, I would be so discouraged and feel so pressured to catch up that I would just dump the whole plan.

Sometime around last March, God led me to read through the entire Bible in forty days. This required reading about forty chapters a day. For me, this took about an hour, since I read quickly. To make a long story short, I made it to the end of I Chronicles on the fortieth day. The main reason I fell behind was because I didn't have a regular time to read--I would just try to squeeze it in, and some days my reading just didn't happen. I was a little discouraged, but I waned to try again. However, I didn't have time. Perhaps I should rephrase that--I didn't make time. And so, I would read a few verses in the evening just before I went to sleep, mainly to appease the guilt I felt about neglecting God's Word. I knew that studying the Bible was key to my spiritual development, but I just didn't make time.

Late last year, God began to convict me, and I decided that 2008 would be the year in which I read through the entire Bible. I started asking God how I should go about this. I knew I didn't want to do a one-year plan, since they usually prescribe only two or three chapters. At that rate, my time with God would take a mere five minutes, and that wasn't enough. So God led me to this article written by Noel Piper. I was so excited! She, too, had problems with actually reading through the whole Bible. I adapted her approach to fit me, and I love it!

The basic idea behind the way I'm reading the Bible is this: to read for one hour every morning. I'm not going in any particular order, I just read one at a time. This helps me to focus and not get bogged down. I recently finished Leviticus, and then I read John for a change, and now I'm in Acts. Someday, I will read the Bible in order. Someday, I want to read it chronologically. But at this point, the one-book-at-a-time approach is working wonderfully!

The other thing I do when I read is this: I employ three colored pencils. The blue one is to color in any verse that tells about who God is--His character and attributes. This keeps me reading carefully, so that I don't miss anything. I'm seeing God in a whole new way! He is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer, my shield, the Potter, the Shepherd, the Messiah, and the Bridegroom. The red pencil is for verses relating to Jesus (mostly prophecies), like Isaiah 53. Lastly, the green pencil is for the will of God/how we are to live as followers of Christ. The epistles have green all over them. Next time I read through the Bible, I want to use a pink pencil and color in all the verses about God's love.

As I read, I write down the references of the verses that stick out to me--ones I wonder about, or like, or want to cross-reference, or think about. These I write about in my journal.

Since January 9, I have read through these:

Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Ruth, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Job, 2/3 of Psalms, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, 1 & 2 Thessalonians, 1 & 2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon, 1, 2, & 3 John, and Jude.

That leaves only 22 books: I am 2/3 of the way through. I can honestly say that the only way I've done this is by the grace of God. Who would have thought that I, the queen of sleeping in, would be getting up before 5:30 nearly every morning to study the Word? Who would have thought that I, who once thought the Bible was boring, would read 2/3 of the way through it in less than two months? Who would have thought that I want to read more so much that I sometimes have to force myself to put the Bible away and do school? Not me! I still don't have it all together (I never will), but I'm making progress, because God has done this great work. I still miss mornings occasionally, if I stay up too late at night. But my day is so much sweeter when I drag myself out of bed for that precious morning hour with my beloved Savior. And His grace is enough! When I am inconsistent, He is faithful. When I am weak, He is strong. When I am broken, He makes me whole in His hands. What a wonderful LORD!

"Therefore the LORD waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you...blessed are all who wait for him...He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. As soon as he hears it, he answers you...And your ears will hear a word behind you, saying "This is the way, walk in it..." " --from Isaiah 30, ESV

"The law of the LORD is perfect,
reviving the soul;
the testimony of the LORD is sure,
making wise the simple;
the precepts of the LORD are right,
rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the LORD is pure,
enlightening the eyes;
the fear of the LORD is clean,
enduring forever;
the rules of the LORD are true,
and righteous altogether.
More to be desired are they than gold,
even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
and drippings of the honeycomb." --Psalm 19:7-11, ESV

Seeking Jesus

2008-02-07T17:52:00.000-06:00

Now that I finally have a chance to blog, I hardly know what to say! God is so good, and He has been working so much in my life. I've always known that spending time with God is important. However, I haven't done it much. Last summer, I began to get serious about spending time daily in the Lord's presence. In the first apartment, my brothers and I shared a bedroom. Therefore, I had my God times in the evenings, after my brothers were asleep and the apartment was quiet. I would climb into the closet and perch on top of the dresser with my Bible and journal, a tiny flashlight suspended from the hanger rod above me. As you can probably imagine, I had a hard time being consistent with this method. However, it allowed me to meet with God, and I had some really sweet times in His presence. In the second apartment, the boys slept in the living room on the couches. This made God times much easier for me, since I had the office to myself. I stayed up late most nights, reading and praying and journaling to God. I loved it! But when we left the apartment, school was beginning. Therefore, I was unable to stay up late and sleep till 10 every morning. My God times began to taper off, until I hardly thought about them. Eventually, I realized my error, and started trying to do them again--but they just got "tacked on" just before bed. I would read a few verses just before I went to sleep, mainly to appease the guilt I felt. Eventually I realized that I was starving my spirit, and I knew I couldn't fix my problems. I longed to know the Lord, but I was unable to seek Him in my own strength. But God, in His all-surpassing love and abundant grace, drew my heart to a place of conviction and change. Here's an excerpt from my journal:

"Through the blood of His Son, God has blessed me with the awesome privilege of knowing Him. God has ransomed me with His very life. Who am I to refuse Him one hour of my day?...I know that seeking God in His Word is necessary to my spirit. But I still neglect God-times. I turn away from meeting God so that I can sleep longer. What a tragedy! How foolish I have been, to think that sleep will benefit me more than the Word of God!"

John Piper says that entering the day without a serious meeting with God is like entering a battle without tending to your weapons, or taking a trip without gassing up the vehicle. It simply doesn't work! I felt that God was leading me to seek Him in the morning, so I asked Him for grace and strength to resist the temptation to go back to bed. And on January 9th, by God's grace, I got up at 6:15 and spent an hour in the presence of the Lord. Oh, it was so refreshing and sweet! God showed me that I could bless His heart by arising early in the morning to seek Him. I wrote this:

"I have been given the opportunity to sacrifice the fleshly pleasure of sleeping in, exchanging it for the true spiritual joy of seeking and finding the Lord, of knowing Him, of soaking in His presence...What a precious gift!"

And it is a gift! The sweetest hours of my day are truly those first two, spent at the feet of Jesus in His word and prayer.

May God bless you with a renewed desire to behold His face!

Flipflops and Omelettes

2008-02-05T18:11:00.000-06:00

A random thought: have you ever felt sorry for those poor people who don't live in Texas and can't wear flipflops in February?

This morning I made my first omelette. The process was so much easier than I expected! I've always been rather nervous about making omelettes. Here's how I did it:

1. Lightly coat a small pan with nonstick spray (my pan was about 8"). Normally I use butter, but I read that spray works better for omelettes. Dip a fork in sour cream (for extra flavor and creaminess) and use it to beat two large eggs. Season to taste--I like to use garlic salt and lemon pepper.

2. Prepare your filling. This morning, I used chopped avocado, chopped onion, and chopped tomato with a little garlic and cilantro--almost like really chunky guacamole. It tasted sort of summery and Mexican. If you use garlic, don't overdo it (like I did).

Personally, I think that sauteed mushrooms and onions with chicken and Swiss cheese would be really tasty. Or broccoli, lightly steamed (left over from last night's dinner, maybe?) and other vegetables, like asparagus. Or ham and cheddar with green onions...the possibilities are endless!

3. Shred the cheese. Cheese is absolutely necessary! I shredded mine finely so that it would melt easier.

4. Turn the stove on to a medium-low heat. If you have electric, wait for it to warm up. If you have gas (like we do), it'll be hot instantly. Pour the eggs into the pan. Pick up the pan and swirl the eggs around once so you get a little crust along the edge of the pan. Wow, telling you is way harder than actually doing it!

5. Leave the eggs alone for a minute so the bottom sets slightly. Using your fork, lightly stir the raw egg on the top, so it stays really fluffy. Don't mess with the bottom crust!

6. When the eggs are really beginning to set and the bottom crust gets pretty thick, slide a spatula underneath the eggs so they don't stick. Now, flip the whole omelette over with your spatula. This works best when your pan is fairly small. Fear not, this is waaaay easier than it sounds! It's just like a pancake. Give it a minute to cook, then add your fillings. Put these on one side only, in a half-moon shape. Then, using your spatula (and fingers if you need them) fold half of the omelette over the fillings. Put the lid of the pan on for a minute while you grab your plate. If you want the cheese to melt, wait a few more seconds, then slide the omelette onto your plate. Bon appetit!

I don't know if that even made any sense to anybody, but I enjoyed making the omelette (and eating it too!) and it's not as hard as it sounds.

Bought with a price

2008-01-23T14:09:00.000-06:00

This is an essay I wrote for my English Composition class last semester. I hope you enjoy it!

“You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”
1 Corinthians 7:23, ESV

Today is a scorching summer day in East Texas. I am babysitting the Bradshaw children. The weather is too hot to play outside, so I try to keep the children occupied indoors.

Kenny is five years old. He sits cross-legged on the floor, impatiently pecking at his red toy cash register.

“So, Julia, whaddya wanna buy?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I am tired and sweaty—this has been a long day. “What do you think I should buy, Kenny?”

“Well, you should get the camera. Look, it squeaks when you wiggle this part.”

“But Kenny, I already have a camera!”

“Come on, Julia, you GOTTA buy something! How much money do you gots? 200?”

Although Kenny is very intelligent, he has not learned much about money or large numbers yet. This fact makes playing store especially interesting. Kenny does not care how much money you truly possess—your imagination is what counts.

“Yes, Kenny, I have even more than 200!” He is getting excited. His eyes open wider and he leans forward slightly.

“Well, do you gots millions and millions?”

“Yeah! I have millions and millions!”

Kenny sits up tall and tries to look important. He is secretly thrilled about his chance to one-up me. “WELL, Julia, I gots millions, billions, jillions, kabillions, and TADILLIONS!”

Kenny hands me a pile of fake money. “Now you gotta buy something, ‘cause I want my money back. Just buy the whole house.”

“OK. How much money does that cost?”

Kenny pushes several number buttons on his register and opens and closes the drawer three times. He coolly announces the price: “It costs a million tadillion.”

I fall over in mock despair. “But Kenny, I only have a million million!”

He stares at me like I’ve lost my marbles, raising his eyebrows and crinkling his nose. “Well just go home and save some more!”

Janie, Kenny’s four-year-old sister, decides that I need some help. “It’s okay, Julia, let’s just go to the bank and buy some more money!”

Kenny is really getting into this game. He replies, “Janie, that’ll take too long. And Julia can’t drive yet.”

Janie is perplexed. She asks, “Why not? Isn’t she big enough? How old are you, Julia? 47 or 52?”

I try not to laugh. She forgets my age quite often. “Janie, I’m only fifteen, silly goose!” “Oh, yeah.” She giggles. She just woke up from her nap ten minutes ago, so her brains are not really warmed up yet.

Kenny sternly tells us to “Stop talking, ‘cause we’re playing store right now.” Janie purchases a few of her own belongings, but Kenny is not satisfied. He pleads, “Julia, you have to buy something right now!”

“Okay, Kenny, I will! Just tell me what to buy!”

“Okay, you can buy Janie.” Kenny suggests this with the air of a businessman who knows his sale is made.

Janie has an objection. “But I don’t have a tag on me!”

Kenny is undaunted. “That’s okay, you cost three hundred and fifty-nine and five and eighty-two!”

Janie is greatly relieved to find that she does, indeed, have a price. She looks at me eagerly. “Julia, are you gonna buy me?”

Kenny gives the details. “Janie can come live with you in the kitchen. But if she doesn’t obey you, she has to come back to live here with me. Or if she gets the hiccups or sneezes, then she has to live here again.”

He warns Janie to be obedient as I give him all his money. I invite Kenny to stop by our house in the kitchen and visit us any time, and he promises to do so. Janie is fairly ecstatic. She tells him goodbye and skips down the hall beside me--and as we near the kitchen, Janie reaches up and slips her hand into mine.

Just as I “purchased” Janie, God has purchased me, His child. He paid a much higher price than a few slips of fake money—he gave his very life to ransom me from my sin. He has called me to live with Him. He loves me infinitely, and He likes me too. He won’t send me back if I make a mistake, fail to measure up, or get the “hiccups.” He is truly a loving Redeemer and Friend.

Out of the Coal Mine

2008-01-16T22:54:00.000-06:00

No, I haven't dropped off the face of the blogosphere! This week I've been in chalk art training, learning how to use the gifts God has given me unto His glory. I'm exhausted, but these last few days have been extremely beneficial.

God has blessed me so richly! I am amazed to see his hand throughout my entire chalk art experience. I was blessed to receive some basic training last summer. I was blessed by the providential acquisition of a wonderful easel and extra supplies. I have been blessed to have this opportunity to further my artistic skills, which were also a blessing from the Lord. I have been blessed by God's financial provision. I have been blessed with an amazing, incredible teacher and a great class. I have been blessed with godly, encouraging new friends. I am blown away, seeing God's hand orchestrating my life! The Lord truly will provide everything you need to fulfill His will for your life. He is so good to teach me that once again!

Training started Friday night, when we learned how to use the chalk correctly. On Saturday, we drew mostly rocks and trees...over and over and over. That was exhausting. Today, we put the pieces together and drew entire pictures. Tomorrow we'll be learning to draw invisible pictures.

I have been encouraged, empowered, inspired, and equipped to draw for God's glory--and the week's not over yet! I am so excited to see how the Lord will use this ministry. I am awed and humbled that God would choose to use me, even though I'm not the best at anything, even though I'm sinful and messed up, even though I don't have it all together. His strength is made perfect in my weakness. Oh, that I would come to a full understanding of that concept and always trust the Lord unquestioningly, unhesitatingly, and unreservedly!

Oh, you're probably wondering about the coal mine part. To get an idea of the situation, you have to realize these things: 1) The lecturer's chalk used to draw these pictures is very soft and very dusty, and 2) I am a little too short for the easel I am using this week. Therefore, all the chalk dust falls down, down, down all over my face! I have been so dirty! Tonight I was using a lot of black chalk, and it was all smudged on my face. I looked like I just came out of a coal mine, or maybe Little Orphan Annie, or maybe a marble statue, or maybe a destitute historical Native American who couldn't find purple berries and was therefore limited to grey warpaint! But the training is very valuable to me, and well worth the dustiness.

I might write more later in the week if I have time, but I probably won't get to it. This weekend I'm going to a missions conference which I'm really excited about, but I am going to be majorly exhausted next week! So I really need to get to sleep. First, here are some verses I've been pondering as I draw. These verses remind me of the whole reason I draw--to spread the fame of God's name, to know Him and to make Him known:

Come and see what God has done:
he is awesome in his deeds toward the children of man...
Come and hear, all you who fear God,
and I will tell what he has done for my soul.
Psalm 66:5, 16 ESV

I have told the glad news of deliverance
in the great congregation;
behold, I have not restrained my lips,
as you know, O Lord.
I have not hidden your deliverance within my heart;
I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation;
I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness
from the great congregation.
Psalm 40:9-10 ESV