It's amazing what God tells you while you're watching fireflies.
I've been reading a book called "Jesus for President" lately. It talks a lot about our response to evil and violence.
But let me set the stage first.
Quiet night.
Deep valley.
Hundreds of fireflies dancing in and out of the grass.
Me sitting there in silence. Thinking about nothing and everything.
Me feeling loved by God. Like the fireflies were there just for me.
Then God whispers...
Annie...your love for me is not why I love you. I love you because you are my child.
Big smile.
Think of my other children, Annie.
Faces trip past my eyes. Friends. Family.
Yes. I love these. But what about the others?
Others, Lord?
The others. How many have I lost? And my heart breaks for each one of them.
Even the ones who have persecuted your people? Steeped themselves in evil?
I grieve for the loss of Timothy McVeigh...my beloved son.
My heart breaks for Jezebel, my precious daughter.
My own heart does a flip.
I wept over Saddam Hussein.
And I gave my life for the sake of Adolph Hitler.
Osama bin Laden was created in my own image.
Tears run down my face.
These are also the beloved of God.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
This year, I resolve to...
Be happy. As much as possible for as long as possible.
Not be miserable at one summer sport. The current choice is racquetball. The backup is volleyball.
Not be miserable at one winter sport. I want to try skiing and/or snowboarding. Ice skating is my backup, since I've already tried that.
Finally get my ladies choir together to do our awesome songs.
Try sushi for the first time. Hopefully with someone who knows the ropes already. Any takers?
Create the perfect Belgian chocolate custard.
Create the perfect marsala sauce.
Did I mention being happy?
Not be miserable at one summer sport. The current choice is racquetball. The backup is volleyball.
Not be miserable at one winter sport. I want to try skiing and/or snowboarding. Ice skating is my backup, since I've already tried that.
Finally get my ladies choir together to do our awesome songs.
Try sushi for the first time. Hopefully with someone who knows the ropes already. Any takers?
Create the perfect Belgian chocolate custard.
Create the perfect marsala sauce.
Did I mention being happy?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
New Year's Resolutions
I was looking over my New Year's list from last year, and thought, you know...everyone makes the lists, but we never get to hear how they turn out. So here is mine.
January 2008
This Year, I Will...
1. Go to Cuiaba, one last time.
-and I did. And it was wonderful and horrible and irreplaceable.
2. Eat sushi.
-Never got this one accomplished. Oh well...this year!
3. Visit Jon and Gabe
-I did. And it was awesome. Thanks for being my friends, you guys. We stick together, right?
4. Cry a lot.
-*smile* Yeah...
5. See Phil Keaggy in concert again.
-Didn't get that one done either. Bummer, too! I love going to his concerts.
6. Decide what I'm going to do with my life.
-Hah!
7. Get glasses!
-Done. And they make me look very preppy, indeed.
8. Get a stamp on my passport.
-My first one! And I ended up getting two, one for Costa Rica and one for Nicaragua.
9. Smile at my friends' weddings.
-It wasn't as hard as I had thought...they were too beautiful. Emily and Heidi...you two are gems.
10. Record a song.
-I recorded two! One serious and personal, and the other ridiculous and silly. Thanks Dana and Diego. You have mad musical skills, and I am uber proud to have you in my almost-family.
11. Miss Micah.
-..................the only one that didn't take a single bit of effort.
12. Live.
-With a vengeance. :)
Stay tuned for this year's resolutions. Who cares if it's June.
January 2008
This Year, I Will...
1. Go to Cuiaba, one last time.
-and I did. And it was wonderful and horrible and irreplaceable.
2. Eat sushi.
-Never got this one accomplished. Oh well...this year!
3. Visit Jon and Gabe
-I did. And it was awesome. Thanks for being my friends, you guys. We stick together, right?
4. Cry a lot.
-*smile* Yeah...
5. See Phil Keaggy in concert again.
-Didn't get that one done either. Bummer, too! I love going to his concerts.
6. Decide what I'm going to do with my life.
-Hah!
7. Get glasses!
-Done. And they make me look very preppy, indeed.
8. Get a stamp on my passport.
-My first one! And I ended up getting two, one for Costa Rica and one for Nicaragua.
9. Smile at my friends' weddings.
-It wasn't as hard as I had thought...they were too beautiful. Emily and Heidi...you two are gems.
10. Record a song.
-I recorded two! One serious and personal, and the other ridiculous and silly. Thanks Dana and Diego. You have mad musical skills, and I am uber proud to have you in my almost-family.
11. Miss Micah.
-..................the only one that didn't take a single bit of effort.
12. Live.
-With a vengeance. :)
Stay tuned for this year's resolutions. Who cares if it's June.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Breath
I was going to tell you all to close your eyes to imagine with me, but I guess that won’t work very well. Just make sure you imagine it somehow.
Imagine that it is a hot and muggy day. The kind that makes some of your toes hate the other toes for being so warm and making them (the first toes) hot. And vice versa. The kind that makes you want to stand up all day just so you don’t have to sit and touch anything. There’s no breeze, no clouds, just hazy sunlight.
Now as you are standing there…feeling hot, sticky, and generally miserable, imagine that a storm cloud sneaks in and covers the sun, and at the same time, a cool wind whips through your hair. You can hear the leaves of the palm trees (in my imagination, they’re palm trees) rattle, and if you listen very closely, you can hear the distant roar of the mother of all rainstorms inching its way toward you across the jungle. (Again, my imagination…I like jungles.)
There’s just something about that wind. You want to feel it across every pore in your skin, through every strand of hair…you want to close your eyes, tip your head back, and throw out your arms, as if you could almost….just maybe…fly.
The word for spirit in Greek is pneuma, which means “breath.” I love that. I love that I can associate the Holy Spirit with breath, with wind…something unseen, but incredibly powerful. Something that blows away the layer of dust that collects on my soul.
Take this a little further. While you are standing there, feeling all of the mugginess of the day blow away on the wind, you begin to feel a sprinkle of water from that rainstorm that’s coming. For one small second, you consider going inside where it’s dry…but then you breathe in the misty air and think of the stuffiness inside, and it seems like your soul has grown too large to be stuffed back into that small space. So you stay. The sheets of water drench your skin. Streams and rivers run down your face. You think that you just may be crying…but the tears mix silently with the rain and run down your face together.
There’s something exultant in the way the rain pounds the earth, and when it finally stops, you feel more alive than you have in a small forever.
John 4:13-14Jesus replied, "Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life."
Imagine that it is a hot and muggy day. The kind that makes some of your toes hate the other toes for being so warm and making them (the first toes) hot. And vice versa. The kind that makes you want to stand up all day just so you don’t have to sit and touch anything. There’s no breeze, no clouds, just hazy sunlight.
Now as you are standing there…feeling hot, sticky, and generally miserable, imagine that a storm cloud sneaks in and covers the sun, and at the same time, a cool wind whips through your hair. You can hear the leaves of the palm trees (in my imagination, they’re palm trees) rattle, and if you listen very closely, you can hear the distant roar of the mother of all rainstorms inching its way toward you across the jungle. (Again, my imagination…I like jungles.)
There’s just something about that wind. You want to feel it across every pore in your skin, through every strand of hair…you want to close your eyes, tip your head back, and throw out your arms, as if you could almost….just maybe…fly.
The word for spirit in Greek is pneuma, which means “breath.” I love that. I love that I can associate the Holy Spirit with breath, with wind…something unseen, but incredibly powerful. Something that blows away the layer of dust that collects on my soul.
Take this a little further. While you are standing there, feeling all of the mugginess of the day blow away on the wind, you begin to feel a sprinkle of water from that rainstorm that’s coming. For one small second, you consider going inside where it’s dry…but then you breathe in the misty air and think of the stuffiness inside, and it seems like your soul has grown too large to be stuffed back into that small space. So you stay. The sheets of water drench your skin. Streams and rivers run down your face. You think that you just may be crying…but the tears mix silently with the rain and run down your face together.
There’s something exultant in the way the rain pounds the earth, and when it finally stops, you feel more alive than you have in a small forever.
John 4:13-14Jesus replied, "Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life."
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Restore Me to Joy
Some dear friends of mine just had their first baby. On one of my first visits I was schnuggling with the little one, and she started to cry. Mommy looked at me and said, "Well...you'll just have to restore her to joy."
I don't know why that phrase stuck with me like it did. There was just something alluring and intriguing about the way it skipped across my mind.
Restore me to joy.
That's what I really should be praying for. That God my Father would notice me and the pickles I get into...how tangled up I get in the messes of my own making. And I sit down, dejected, sticky jam on my hands, chocolate around my mouth, my toys in pieces around me...but God picks me up, washes away the stains, unrumples my rumples, wraps me in one of those oh-so-soft blankies, and schnuggles with me.
Over and over, it seems that God brings people and situations into my life to remind me that ultimately I should trust only Him. Maybe because it's a lesson that I never seem to learn. Someday, Lord...someday I will finally get it.
Until then, wipe away my stains, unrumple my rumples...
Restore me to joy.
I don't know why that phrase stuck with me like it did. There was just something alluring and intriguing about the way it skipped across my mind.
Restore me to joy.
That's what I really should be praying for. That God my Father would notice me and the pickles I get into...how tangled up I get in the messes of my own making. And I sit down, dejected, sticky jam on my hands, chocolate around my mouth, my toys in pieces around me...but God picks me up, washes away the stains, unrumples my rumples, wraps me in one of those oh-so-soft blankies, and schnuggles with me.
Over and over, it seems that God brings people and situations into my life to remind me that ultimately I should trust only Him. Maybe because it's a lesson that I never seem to learn. Someday, Lord...someday I will finally get it.
Until then, wipe away my stains, unrumple my rumples...
Restore me to joy.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Go Tigers!
Well, Thursday we left for our driving trip.
Phase One was Stonehenge. I was disappointed to learn that it probably didn't have anything at all to do with druids after all. *crushed* But all in all, it was ridiculously cool. Towering stones on a hill, blanketed in mystery even with the hordes of tourists walking around the walkway, listening to their audioguides. I wish I would have been able to see it when it was fully complete.
After Stonhenge, we crossed into Wales, basically just to say that we had, and then we began heading north. Since we're basically using the "fly by the seat of our pants" approach to planning this part of the trip, we just drove awhile and then stopped when we saw what looked like a cool restaurant.
It turned out to be wonderful. We were led downstairs into a low-ceilinged room with wooden beams decorated with ivy. I decided to go a little bit out of the ordinary and order the lamb.
Wow.
Amazing.
Our waiter (who we think was also the owner of the restaurant) entertained us with ghost stories and his own tales of traveling to Florida. When he brought out our food, he asked if we needed any "other" sauces with it, like ketchup. Then he said, "Well, I do have some sort of voodoo sauce I brought back from Florida." Hearing him say "voodoo sauce" with that accent just made it all the funnier, until he brought it out. Sure enough, it was a bottle of cayenne hot sauce, labeled "Voodoo Sauce." Well then.
We stayed at a Travelodge up the road a bit, where I enjoyed a long shower, followed by a long bath. Hooray for hot water.
The next day, we kept on driving north, this time across the border into Scotland. It took us a long time to get there, so we ended up looking for a place to stay the night instead of going into Edinborough right away. Apparently Memorial Day Monday is Bank holiday in England, plus there was some sort of show in the area south of Edinburgh, plus a VW convention of some sort (weird, I know), not to mention a very important rugby match in Edinburgh itself. The English vs. the Irish, in what I think is the final match of some sort of tournament/season.
Needless to say, everything was booked solid. We were getting kind of desperate when we pulled into the last town. We trundled up to The Mill Inn and once again asked if they had any rooms. They didn't, but they gave us the business card of a Bed & Breakfast up the road. We piled back in our "van" and headed there. When we got there, it didn't appear that they would be able to help us either, but the owner, a man named (get this) Ian Mob, offered to make a few phone calls for us. It must have been our tired looks on our (still) excruciatingly gorgeous faces that convinced him that he needed to take us under his wing. He found a room for the three boys a little ways down the road, and set up a room himself for us girls.
We unloaded the luggage and then trundled off to Edinburgh for a bit of the night life. This is where we discovered exactly how fanatical everyone is about rugby. Downtown, outside of the pubs, crowds and crowds of people stood around quaffing (awesome word) ales and occasionally ripping off a passionate "Go Tigers!" We were walking up to one such street when everyone started their own impromptu pep rally. We just sort of stood there looking, and someone else on the street, presumably Scottish, tossed off a "The English have landed" in our general direction as he passed by.
Our supper was amazing though, and after we had finally polished off the last bit, we drove over to Arthur's seat. It's a huge overlook that sits to one side of the city, where you can hike up and take amazing pictures, ooh and ah, fall off and kill yourself, or make out. The best part is that you're free to do whichever thing interests you the most. Myself, I just found a nice spot to sit, where I sat (obviously) and tried to be contemplative. It would have worked a little bit better if it hadn't been so frigidly cold.
Eventually we drove back to our beautiful guest houses and our lovely innkeeper. There are no words that describe this man properly. Charming almost works. Quick wit. Great sense of humor. Basically, everything you could possibly hope for in a host for your night in Scotland.
In the morning Mr. Ian served us our breakfasts in a beautiful sun porch, dressed in his favorite outfit. A kilt, of course. He says that he likes for his guests to be able to see one for sure before they leave Scotland, and since "I love ma kilt, tis no hardship." I only wish I could post the accent in this blog so you could hear it.
My breakfast consisted of:
A pot of tea, fresh grapefruit, a poached egg, a slice of brown toast with orange marmalade (homemade by his wife), two slices of bacon, sauteed mushrooms, and four gorgeous cherry tomatoes baked, still attached to their vine. Talk about a beautiful presentation and an absolutely delicious meal.
After we said goodbye to the Mobs, we went back into Edinburgh and toured the castle there. It was full of English and Irish people (Go Tigers!) and lots of others, but I still enjoyed it. There was one tour through the castle that told the history of the Crown Jewels of Scotland, culminating in the display room where they are actually kept.
We didn't actually leave Edinburgh until early afternoon, so we spent most of the rest of the day driving.
Tonight, I strolled over to the restaurant next door, which just happened to be run by a bonafide Italian. I'm not sure how long he's lived here; I would assume quite awhile, but he still had the italian flamboyance and charm. And the penne pasta with asparagus, mushrooms, and cream sauce was exactly what I was hungry for.
More later, once it happens. :) I have been drinking pots and pots of tea and thoroughly enjoying every drop. I'm exhausted every night, but so far, I'm having a wonderful time.
Correct pronunciation of the day:
Edinburgh
EH-din-bore-oh
Cheers!
Phase One was Stonehenge. I was disappointed to learn that it probably didn't have anything at all to do with druids after all. *crushed* But all in all, it was ridiculously cool. Towering stones on a hill, blanketed in mystery even with the hordes of tourists walking around the walkway, listening to their audioguides. I wish I would have been able to see it when it was fully complete.
After Stonhenge, we crossed into Wales, basically just to say that we had, and then we began heading north. Since we're basically using the "fly by the seat of our pants" approach to planning this part of the trip, we just drove awhile and then stopped when we saw what looked like a cool restaurant.
It turned out to be wonderful. We were led downstairs into a low-ceilinged room with wooden beams decorated with ivy. I decided to go a little bit out of the ordinary and order the lamb.
Wow.
Amazing.
Our waiter (who we think was also the owner of the restaurant) entertained us with ghost stories and his own tales of traveling to Florida. When he brought out our food, he asked if we needed any "other" sauces with it, like ketchup. Then he said, "Well, I do have some sort of voodoo sauce I brought back from Florida." Hearing him say "voodoo sauce" with that accent just made it all the funnier, until he brought it out. Sure enough, it was a bottle of cayenne hot sauce, labeled "Voodoo Sauce." Well then.
We stayed at a Travelodge up the road a bit, where I enjoyed a long shower, followed by a long bath. Hooray for hot water.
The next day, we kept on driving north, this time across the border into Scotland. It took us a long time to get there, so we ended up looking for a place to stay the night instead of going into Edinborough right away. Apparently Memorial Day Monday is Bank holiday in England, plus there was some sort of show in the area south of Edinburgh, plus a VW convention of some sort (weird, I know), not to mention a very important rugby match in Edinburgh itself. The English vs. the Irish, in what I think is the final match of some sort of tournament/season.
Needless to say, everything was booked solid. We were getting kind of desperate when we pulled into the last town. We trundled up to The Mill Inn and once again asked if they had any rooms. They didn't, but they gave us the business card of a Bed & Breakfast up the road. We piled back in our "van" and headed there. When we got there, it didn't appear that they would be able to help us either, but the owner, a man named (get this) Ian Mob, offered to make a few phone calls for us. It must have been our tired looks on our (still) excruciatingly gorgeous faces that convinced him that he needed to take us under his wing. He found a room for the three boys a little ways down the road, and set up a room himself for us girls.
We unloaded the luggage and then trundled off to Edinburgh for a bit of the night life. This is where we discovered exactly how fanatical everyone is about rugby. Downtown, outside of the pubs, crowds and crowds of people stood around quaffing (awesome word) ales and occasionally ripping off a passionate "Go Tigers!" We were walking up to one such street when everyone started their own impromptu pep rally. We just sort of stood there looking, and someone else on the street, presumably Scottish, tossed off a "The English have landed" in our general direction as he passed by.
Our supper was amazing though, and after we had finally polished off the last bit, we drove over to Arthur's seat. It's a huge overlook that sits to one side of the city, where you can hike up and take amazing pictures, ooh and ah, fall off and kill yourself, or make out. The best part is that you're free to do whichever thing interests you the most. Myself, I just found a nice spot to sit, where I sat (obviously) and tried to be contemplative. It would have worked a little bit better if it hadn't been so frigidly cold.
Eventually we drove back to our beautiful guest houses and our lovely innkeeper. There are no words that describe this man properly. Charming almost works. Quick wit. Great sense of humor. Basically, everything you could possibly hope for in a host for your night in Scotland.
In the morning Mr. Ian served us our breakfasts in a beautiful sun porch, dressed in his favorite outfit. A kilt, of course. He says that he likes for his guests to be able to see one for sure before they leave Scotland, and since "I love ma kilt, tis no hardship." I only wish I could post the accent in this blog so you could hear it.
My breakfast consisted of:
A pot of tea, fresh grapefruit, a poached egg, a slice of brown toast with orange marmalade (homemade by his wife), two slices of bacon, sauteed mushrooms, and four gorgeous cherry tomatoes baked, still attached to their vine. Talk about a beautiful presentation and an absolutely delicious meal.
After we said goodbye to the Mobs, we went back into Edinburgh and toured the castle there. It was full of English and Irish people (Go Tigers!) and lots of others, but I still enjoyed it. There was one tour through the castle that told the history of the Crown Jewels of Scotland, culminating in the display room where they are actually kept.
We didn't actually leave Edinburgh until early afternoon, so we spent most of the rest of the day driving.
Tonight, I strolled over to the restaurant next door, which just happened to be run by a bonafide Italian. I'm not sure how long he's lived here; I would assume quite awhile, but he still had the italian flamboyance and charm. And the penne pasta with asparagus, mushrooms, and cream sauce was exactly what I was hungry for.
More later, once it happens. :) I have been drinking pots and pots of tea and thoroughly enjoying every drop. I'm exhausted every night, but so far, I'm having a wonderful time.
Correct pronunciation of the day:
Edinburgh
EH-din-bore-oh
Cheers!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
London on my mind...
Well...right after my first post, after laying down all those rules, and having such high hopes and standards for this blog, I'm going to break all the rules and give you an "events of my life" update.
Just because I need to gloat.
I'm in London.
As in "going to London to visit the Queen" London. As in Westminster Abbey London.
Yesterday we took a million Tube rides and walked along the Thames. Then we finished up with a service at St. Paul's. Tipping my head way, way back and looking at those vaulted ceilings with their intricate gildings and carvings, I felt my own smallness in the presence of God. But instead of feeling fear, though, of the Sovereign Creator God, I just felt peace. Peace because he is my God. And the God of those soaring ceilings and the otherworldly music loves me.
Life is good.
Just because I need to gloat.
I'm in London.
As in "going to London to visit the Queen" London. As in Westminster Abbey London.
Yesterday we took a million Tube rides and walked along the Thames. Then we finished up with a service at St. Paul's. Tipping my head way, way back and looking at those vaulted ceilings with their intricate gildings and carvings, I felt my own smallness in the presence of God. But instead of feeling fear, though, of the Sovereign Creator God, I just felt peace. Peace because he is my God. And the God of those soaring ceilings and the otherworldly music loves me.
Life is good.
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