Daily Reminders

So a lot of life has been happening, but I want to share something that I came across again today that I think is a wonderful reminder...It is headed as the Marks of a True Christian, in Romans 12:9-21.

“Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be conceited. Repay no one for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ To the contrary, if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

Campfires, Cabins, and Woods

This morning I am headed off to camp. Every year (since my 7th. grade year) my school has held a camp the first week of school as a time of fellowship, fun, and generally getting all hot and bothered. But the basic premise is that you are all getting all hot and bothered, soaked by the occasional summer rainshower, etc. etc. etc. together. It gives the kids a chance to get to know each other and their teachers in a way that would not be possible simply sitting in a classroom. So, I am going as a counselor for the 7th. grade girls and am looking forward to it.


And so, I leave you with another poem from my little book.


The Song of the Children
by G.K. Chesterton


The World is ours till sunset,
Holly and fire and snow;
And the name of our dead bother
Who loved us long ago.


The grown folk mighty and cunning,
They write his name in gold
But we can tell a little
Of the million tales he told.


He taught them laws and watchwords,
To preach and struggle and pray;
But he taught us deep in the hayfield
The games that angels play.


Had he stayed here for ever.
Their world would be wise as ours -
And the king be cutting the capers
And the priest be picking flowers.


But the dark day came: they gathered:
On their faces we could see
They had taken and slain our brother,
And hanged him on a tree.

Though I've Been Gone...

So, I've been gone for a very long time again. Once I returned from England things got a little bit crazy. Actually, life just happened. So, there.


One book in particular that I bought in Cambridge has been the subject of my attention lately. It is entitled, All Day Long: An anthology of poetry for children. The book was compiled by Pamela Whitlock, and is a wonderful compilation. The poetry is by such authors as Chesterton, Belloc, Frost, Kipling, Tennyson, Wordsworth, Carroll, Yeats, and many, many more. In the introduction to the book, Whitlock states:


It is the moments of excitement that everyday things turn into poetry. Ordinary people like you and me can recognize these moments; here there gone; but try as we do to catch them, they always slip away. It is only the poets, who, in their craftily chosen words and rhythms, can make traps and spring them round some of the best and most elusive things. But we can, by just reading or listening, let out again for ourselves from their lines of excitements that we feared had vanished for ever.


The poems and verses in this book have been chosen because in each there lies - or so it seemed to me - some exciting thing. You may not, when you first come to each entry, always recognize it. Words must mean slightly different things to each one of us, and different emotions fit into different lives. But an anthology is an easy hopscotch ground and you can quickly skip on to something that does excite you. One another day you may come back to the same book and find yourself jumping through it on quite different stones.
Poetry cannot be kept neatly inside a book or even to certain hours of the day. Prey for poets lies about everywhere in all our mowst ordinary days. Any moment an amazement may easily turn up. So this book is arranged in the shape of a whole day...


All Day Long is only the beginning of an anthology. More than anything it could be called a collection of gaps. To fill these you must move swiftly on to more comprehensive, more wisely compiled volumes, and to each poet's own works. To make you want to explore further, to hint at what is to be found, is what this book, may do. You will not like all of it. When you leave it behind, take with you just those poems that have pleased and excited you. It is with these that you will be able to start the only anthology that would have delight breaking out for you on every single page; the one that you make yourself. It could be much bigger and better than this. It could be a most marvelous book. This, then, is only a beginning.


Thus, this book, though I am not interested by everything that this book contains (which I think should not be the case anyway, what we don't like is always a good balance to what we do), this book has enthralled me. So for a little while you will be reading some of the findings from this book. So for tonight, this poem is from The Sleep, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.


Of all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Along the Psalmist's music deep,
Now tell me if that any is,
For gift or grace, surpassing this -
'He giveth His beloved sleep'?


What would we give to our beloved?
The hero's heart, to be unmoved,
The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep,
The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse,
The monarch's crown, to light the brows? -
'He giveth His beloved, sleep.'

Last Day...

Well, I'm off to spend my last day with family in town and at my grandparent's house. I have lots to tell from last week's travel and from this past weekend, but, alas, there is no time right now, so I will have to get to that later.

The song of the weekend for me has been...

Rule Britannia!

When Britain first at Heav'n's command

Arose from out the azure main;

This was the charter of the land,

And guardian angels sang this strain;

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:

Britons never will be slaves.

The nations not so blest as thee,

Shall in their turns to tyrants fall;

While thou shalt flourish great and free,

The dread and envy of them all.

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:

Britons never will be slaves.

Still mor majestic shalt thou rise,

More dreadful from each foreign stroke;

As the loud blast that tears the skies,

Serves but to root thy native oak.

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:

Britons never will be slaves.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame,

All their attempts to bend thee down

Will but arouse thy generous flame;

But work their woe, and thy renown.

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:

Britons never will be slaves.

To thee belongs the rural reign;

They cities shall with commerce shine;

All thine shall be the subject main,

And every shore it circles thine.

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:

Britons never will be slaves.

The Muses, still with freedom found,

Shall to thy happy coast repair;Blest Isle!

With matchless beauty crowned,

And manly hearts to juide the fair.

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:

Britons never will be slaves.

-Thomas Augustine Arne, 1740

To the University...

The past few days have been full of going hither and thither...spending time with people, drinking tea, shopping a bit, drinking tea, etc. etc. etc. On Friday we had the wonderful experience of going to Eucharist at Chester Cathedral. It was located in the smaller chapel to the side of the Cathedral named after Saint Erasmus, because one of the local church school, King's School, was having its upper school's end of term service. The Eucharist service was a magnificent picture of reverence and beauty. The liturgy was rich, and the Lord's presence manifest in every word.

This post will be a short one, because I am actually about to run and catch my train to Cambridge. We are going from Chester to Crew, Crew to Nuneaton, Nuneaton to Cambridge. I will be back on once we have returned from Cambridge in a few days.

Blessings to you all.

Tea & Scones

Here we are again...Since my last post, most of my time has been spent with family, digging through old bookstores, or walking around beautiful, old cities and towns, such as Chester, Wrexham (or Wrecsam in the original Welsh), and Broughton. Although Chester has become more and more modernized, it is wonderful to see this old city retain its ancient charm. To walk the streets with gorgeous architecture, holding modern stores, and to come down the escalator of a sort of mall, only to turn to the left and see an archaeological dig taking place on the city's Roman amphitheatre, is quite spectacular. Talk about the clashing of the old and new!
One of my favourite things to do here is to visit our regular antiquarian bookstores, one of which we visited this week. I bought six books, including beautiful copies of The Talisman, by Sir Walter Scott, Persuasion, by Jan Austen, and Everyman & Medieval Miracle Plays. Most people would ask why I have purchased old editions of books when some of them can be bought brand new, sometimes for cheaper...a simple answer...aesthetic value. However, some exceptions do have to be made as there are some brilliant modern authors. Such as my purchase today which was Art & Beauty in the Middle Ages, by Umberto Eco.

In the spirit of being in Britain, here is a thought that I came across the other day...
Being British is about driving in a German car to an Irish pub for a Belgian beer. Then, travelling home, grabbing an Indian curry or a Turkish kebab on the way, to sit on Swedish furniture and watch American shows on a Japanese TV.

Hear, hear, to the Brits!

And also, in the spirit of being in Wales as well (since I am right on the border, half of the family living in Wales and the other half in England)...Here is some Welsh for you...

lolfa goffi - trans. coffee lounge.

Additional Tales

Above, amidst my telling of my activities this week I have forgotten to mention one adventure that took place ( I did mention earlier that between my mum and I we would find some form of adventure). Well, on our first trip into Chester the other day, mum and I walked from my aunt and uncle's house about a mile or so down the road to meet the bus. It wasn't until we were both actually on the bus that we realized neither of us had a watch with us...wonderful! Now, unlike America, the British are not as obsessed with being aware of the exact second it is and, quite frankly, there are not a whole lot of clocks actually in stores, etc. There is a giant one in the middle of town, but for those of us who get lost in what they are doing that doesn't do us a whole lot of good. Needless to say, mum and I took a wild gander at some point in the middle fo the day (we thought, but weren't sure) that we needed to get going and catch a bus into Higher Kinnerton, just over the border in Wales, to my grandparent's house. So we make our way to the bus stop, in front of the Marks and Spencers...finally seeing a clock we realize it is 2:20, a lot later than we thought, and after when we told my grandparents we would be at their house. So, quickly searching the bus schedule I suddenly realized that we missed the last bus (at 2:17) for at least 2 hours...not good. So as we stand there considering our predicament, a little Irishman, shorter than my mum, with wirey spectacles that seemed to perch awkwardly on his crooked nose, dressed in his plaid, button up shirt, vest and coat, comes up to us and asks us what we're looking for (seeing as I'm still dumbfoundedly looking at the map, wondering how there can be buses to a place called Mold every 5 minutes, and yet we can't get one to Kinnerton for 2 hours!). I reply simply that we were trying to reach Higher Kinnerton and we needed to be there quickly. In a thicker than molasses Irish drawl, he replied that they had cut down on buses into Kinnerton lately (figures!). Yet, he continued that if we were interested, we could go another way (I was intrigued immediately :) suspicious, yet intrigued). He continued on into a discourse on his past history of homes (which I was finding difficulty in seeing the relevance, but then again, thus are the older generation, and definitely thus are the Irish!). Finally, we got the point out of him that he used to live with his brother in Higher Kinnerton (although he hated it there), and said that if we took one of the myriad of Mold buses, we could go down, though there would be a few detours, and get off at the old Broughton Village. He instructed us to specifically get off at the old Broughton Chapel, located at the fork of Main Road (yes, that is the name of the road-the Brits are souls of clarity aren't they?) then if we just walked a bit down the road to Leicester's Lane, we would soon end up in Kinnerton. Sounded easy enough, and I was keen for a little change. So we boarded the bus with a handshake and final instructions from the little man, wishing us well. We rode for about 20 minutes, twisting and turning along backroads, mum and I making nervous glances at each other...then, finally, we saw the chapel. There the tiny, gray-stoned Methodist chapel sat, at the fork on Main Road. We pushed the little stop button and disembarked. Looking around I turned to mum and said, 'Well, I guess we start walking.' We walked for a bit and then mum suggested we just ring Nanny and Papa to let them know we were on our way. So, we stopped at the red telephone box. Nanny answered the phone and I briefly told where we were...there was a very brief silence then, 'STOP! STOP! Stay right where you are, don't move!' then a dropping of the phone, and a muffled shout saying, 'Stop, honey! You must pick the girls up in Broughton!' So we stopped and stood right where we were. Apparently, my grandfather's apothecary is in the little village and he was just leaving the house, so we walked back a bit and he picked us up on the road. Driving back to the house, chatting and carrying on, mum and I suddenly realised that the drive had been about 4 miles, possibly more.....considering we were carrying 2 bags each of books, plus our other paraphenalia, we could have still been walking 2 hours later! Apart from that, I don't know what my grandfather would have done, driving to the apothecary, driving past his daughter and granddaughter on the road! Needless to say, thank the Lord for the Irish, yet be mindful of the advice you receive, it could be more than you bargained for! 'A little ways down the road' can be interpreted many different ways...
The quote from George Bernard Shaw comes to mind, 'England and America are two countries separated by the same language.'

A Return to the Writing World

Well, here I am again. Yet, this time around I am writing from a different country. I am currently in England and Wales for the next 3 weeks, and I am looking forward to the experiences that will undoubtedly ensue (especially since this trip is just my mum and I, and between, the two of us, we are bound to come across some sort of adventure). So, we plan on doing a little bit of traveling while we are here, but the majority of our time will be spent in mum's hometown of Chester, which I have referenced before on here. Above are two pictures of the city.

So, we arrived this (Friday) morning, and we have already been to a pub and seen Pirates of the Caribbean. I am looking forward to the days ahead of reading, buying books, reading some more, drinking tea, traveling, and probably buying some more books.

A thought...


England has two books: one which she has made and one which has made her--Shakespeare and the Bible.
-v. hugo

A Joyful Return.

Well, as you can see, it has been quite a while since I posted...It was partially not having anytime to be able to think of anything apart from exams, packing up my room, coming home, etc. etc. etc. and also my belief that anything I posted on here, during said stressful time would be a horrible let down considering the ummm...creativity...of the last posting. :)
Anyway, I am home from school, and very glad to be home at that. The past nine months have been a whirlwind, but one that the Lord has definitely been present in. His hand was evident at every turn and twist, and my first year at college, was definitely a learning experience, utmostly of trust. The Lord is merciful and His gracious love is ever-present and powerful in our lives...Of this, I am eternally grateful.


"Lightly men talk of saying what they mean. Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, "Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words." A glib saying. When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?

I ended my first book with the words NO ANSWER. I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice? Only words, words; to be lead out to battle against other words."

-C.S. Lewis

Confessions of the 12 O'Clock Mouse

"Hickory, dickory, dock, the mice ran up the clock,
The clock struck Twelve.
Then Seven ate Nine & Ten.
And so Twelve ran down,
Filed an insurance claim, called the police, and charged Seven with cannibalism.
Hickory, dickory, dock..."


....The Untold Story of the Twelve O'Clock Mouse....


After recovering from the concussion he received from getting struck by the unusually long minute hand, the 12 o'clock mouse, was able to acquire massive amounts of insurance money from the emotional trauma of seeing his friends eaten...Since 12 o'clock was an extrememly wise investor he became very wealthy and, by the end of his life, was a billionaire. But, the 12 o'clock mouse had always been a very generous mouse and so when he died he left all his money and his estate to the poor, forgotten 11 o'clock mouse, whom he had just met a few days before, when 11 o'clock was playing his violin on the sidewalk near 12 o'clock's house. The 11 o'clock mouse was struggling financially and had been mugged and beaten up, which had left him blind. 11 o'clock had not been able to find work for years and so he went on welfare, because no one wanted a blind mouse in their nursery rhyme corporations. As a result of inheriting all this money, 11 o'clock was able to use the money the 12 o'clock mouse gave him, and he traveled around the world with a few friends to help him find other blind mice. He discovered one who joined his quest, and they found a third, but an unfortunate event took place upon discovering him. The second mouse that they discovered was a farmmouse, right as they convinced this mouse to join them, so they could start an independent business, the farmer's wife came rushing at them with a knife. All three mice survived, but they all lost their tales. So, the three mice, joined forces and created their own copmany called, the Three Blind Mice Organization, and they spread their story of overcoming great obstacles and survival to the world in a rhyme. They became wildly famous and started a foundation for other blind and injured mice who could not find jobs and helped them get on their feet.


Later on, they expanded their business to not only help mice, but all individuals from other Rhyming Corporations that needed aid, including providing homes, jobs, etc. They even helped Miss Muffet after she left her job over at Little Miss Muffet Inc., because the new spider they had hired was verbally abusive. They also helped the fifth little Piggy from the This Little Piggy Co. after he had to have an operation on his vocal chords and couldn't scream, "Wee! Wee! Wee!" anymore. In addition, they helped the entire Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star Co. after they had to make a huge job cut when fewer and fewer people were asking what stars are, since science is removing the mystery. So the Three Blind Mice organization had an incredible impact on its community, helping countless numbers of individuals and continues to, even today, despite the downfall in the use of really worthwhile Nursery Rhyme Companies.


There is one thing for certain though, whenever you ask the 11 o'clock mouse/the First Blind Mouse where he gets his inspiration, he will always tell you the same answer, "It all began with one individual.......The 12 O'Clock Mouse..."



Disclaimer: This post is the product of a very long week and may also be credited to another pensively discerning individual.


All I have to say is, a true 21st. Century nursery rhyme could only be achieved through verbal inflation.


Rewriting history, one nursery rhyme at a time.

Thoughts to Be Thought

Well, as you can see I go for these long periods of time where I don't update, apart from the usual business of life, they are usually due to my visits home. This time around I was home for Easter Break, so while I had planned to be a faithful blogger, alas, I was not. :) However, there is grace and mercy for every part of life and so I must move on...


As I have mentioned before and as I have been told multiple times by various friends, we are to remember to enjoy the simple things in life. For me, these simple things can end up being very, well...simple. Whether it be receiving a card in the mail, enjoying beautiful weather, or getting a new journal of some sort (I know, but it's part of the family lineage and schooling), I tend to enjoy these simple things immensely. Well, one of these simple joys has to be when I open a new Moleskin. There is just something about these fascinating little creations that inspire. The simplicity of the black outer-covering, bound to the cream-colored, smooth pages that is postively astounding. According to the officialy Moleskine website:

"Moleskine is the legendary notebook that the European artists and intellectuals who made twentieth-century culture used: from Henri Matisse to the turn-of-the-century Parisian avant-garde, from Louis Férdinand Céline to Ernest Hemingway. Writer-traveler Bruce Chatwin picked up this tradition and made it famous.

A simple black rectangle with squared or lined pages, endleaves held by an elastic band, an inside pocket for loose sheets, a binding in 'moleskine' which gives it its name, this trusty, pocket-size traveling companion guarded notes, stories, thoughts and impressions before they turned into the pages of beloved books.

Bruce Chatwin used to buy his moleskine at a Paris stationery shop in Rue de l’Ancienne Comédie. He always stocked up on them before going off on one of his journeys. He had a ritual set up over the years -before using them, he numbered the pages, wrote his name and at least two addresses in the world with the promise of a reward in case they got lost. "Losing my passport was the least of my worries, losing a notebook was a catastrophe".

Now, the Moleskine is back again. It can go back to being a witness passing from one pocket to another and continue the adventure. Its still-blank pages will tell the rest."

It seems as though everytime I see this book I am peculiarly inspired to write, to express, to record. Though this may seem a peculiarity to some, one that only belongs to a person who is a History and English major, yet I believe it is not so. While some may write in their recordings, others may express in their own ways, which may not entail pages and pages of words. So, upon encountering one of my many bound wonders, more often than not I grab my beloved pen, inscribed with a "B", and begin a quest...

Unfortunately, many forget the power of words, but as Frank Lloyd Wright once quipped, "I'm all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters." Especially in a day and age where our society is predominantly ruled by chess-match of politics and the words of its players, we must understand the difference that words can make. Looking back on history some of the greatest historical figures, such as Churchill understood the power of the ink and pen, the power of words to inspire men and exact change.

I only hope that more in my generation will recover this much needed necessity of recording ideas. Though our ideas may never transform our world in our lifetime, may we understand that some day, one person may read them, one person that may make a difference...

May we truly understand that...The greatest ideas in the world mean nothing if they never get outside the thinker's head...

Departed Yet Present

As we are in the Christian Holy Week, I have been reading a lot. I came across a word from St. Augustine today...

And He departed from our sight that we might return to our heart, and there find Him. For He departed, and behold, He is here.

Amen and amen. By His death, by His love, by His sacrifice, we have come to know Him in an intimate way. May we remember what His love has meant to our lives. He died, not only so we might live, as many people say, but so that we may live in fellowship with Him in our daily lives. What a blessing! What a joy! His fellowship, His community is the most important that I have. If I hvae not Him, I have nothing. As I have been away from home at University, with new faces, new places, a new group of friends, I have basically change worlds. Yet, He has remained constant. While I struggle being away from home, being away from a community of believers that I know and love. He is faithful and true, a steadfast friend.

May we remember the blessing that His sacrifice was and is.

Simplicity

"The Holy Spirit dwells in simple hearts. Interior simplicity must manifest itself in our exterior: in speech, manners, and so forth. Meekness and simplicity attract divine mercy and grace more than all other virtues."

-Staretz Parthenous of Kiev



May we continue to seek the gracious simplicities of life. The Lord is present in all things, thus we are to find pleasure in the simple things in life. The commonalities of the everyday are where God is most present. In living our daily lives, in working out His grace and mercy in our present circumstances by accomplishing our daily duties, His hope is ever-present and His joy is incomparable.

Long Gone...

Well, so, once again I must explain why I have been gone for so long. Last week I was home for Spring Break, which was absolutely wonderful. So wonderful, I didn't find the time to post anything. However, on my 6-hour drive back to school I had great and glorious plans for all the updates I was going to make once I got back, only to find that my school had totally changed over wireless networks...as a result, my computer (being temperamental) has decided not to accept the change and has refused to log onto the internet since. So, I make this post from remote places (my roommate's computer) and I hope to be back "home" soon.


As I was reading through one of my books today, I found a quote that, quite frankly struck me. You know one of those phrases, quotations, etc. that you read and it's so stunning you pause, then you read it again, and maybe one more time for good measure, and then only then do you begin to comprehend all that it actually says. I read one such quote today on the Lord that caught my eye by Theophilus of Antioch. It reads:


"For in glory He is incomprehensible, in greatness unfathomable, in height inconceivable, in power incomparable, in wisdom unrivaled, in goodness inimitable, in kindness unutterable."

May you be stunned by the Lord today in all that He is and all that He has done.

Reading Around...

Well, I must say, my reading habits are not what you might say...consistent. In that sense, I do not, by any means, mean I am inconsistent in reading, I actually greatly enjoy reading, which might be part of the problem at hand. Rather, I am more inconsistent with the general area I am reading in, the subject, or the book all together. In other words, I tend to...you could use the term "book hop". Yes, I am a fully diagnosed, considered untreatable book-hopper. Now, if you are not one yourself, tend to be one of those mathematical thinkers that has to hold onto something to the great and glorious end, without falter, without retreat, or have no idea what I am talking about...you may as well deduce that you are not succumbed to this "state of mind." Now whether, in my case, this is attributed to me being from a long line of educators (with more emphasis being on my mum) who cannot exactly decide which book they would like to read first, because "They all look pretty incredible!" Or whether it is just because they are so interested in almost every book, on practically any subject known to the human mind that everything has to be read at once, with equal importance and emphasis (however there are always those that might be considered "more equal than others"), I have almost no idea. Yet, it still might be the fact that I was exposed to an education that put equal importance on every aspect of life, for a person to be a well-rounded individual (something that the modern educational system seems to deem something like a "liberal arts education"). Alas, I am yet at a loss to the sole source and reason for my condition (however I must say that the maternal influence is climbing the charts as an explanation... :) ...So, I have finally decided that there is nothing I can do, no explanation, no cure, and so I am subject to my own faultiness and for the rest of my known existness I must be in a perpetual cycle of at least reading 3-4 (at a minimum) books at a time... So, while this may have absolutely no baring on those of you (if there are any) that read this blog, it may offer some explanation for the future, as well as clarification for the past, when it comes to my, what I consider, blog-worthy material being from seeming a million different directions. All I have to say is, bare with me, consider my condition, and take the information for what it's worth...

So to continue in the tradition, here are a few intriguing quotes found in a book in current study...The book, How To Talk to a Liberal (If You Must), by the beloved (by some) Ann Coulter. She had some very interesting, and humorous, observations.

"...Never flatter a Democrat...Extend an olive branch to Democrats and they'll smack the living daylights out of you with it - while hugging the tree itself, naturally."

"Want to make liberals angry? Defend the United States...My position hasn't changed since the column I wrote the night of 9/11. For reasons I cannot understand, I often asked if I still think we should invade their countries, kill their leaders, and convert them to Christianity. The answer is: Now more than ever!"

So...intriguing thoughts, I must say...Food for thought in a way...highly opinionated food, which will more than likely be very hard to swallow for some, yet, something to provoke our thoughts...which should always be provoked and prodded...contrary to popular belief. :)

Our Own Lives...

C.S. Lewis' Problem of Pain is an incredible work. One that, first of all because of the author, but in any circumstance, whether you are experiencing pain or trial or not, this work is inspired. Here is a small glimpse of some of what he has to say. This passage has really gripped me these past few days.

If the first and lowest operation of pain shatters the illusion that all is well, the second shatters the illusion that what we have, whether good or bad in itself, is our own and enough for us. Everyone has notices how hard it is to turn our thoughts to God when everything is going well with us. We 'have all we want' is a terrible saying when 'all' does not include God. We find God an interruption. As St. Augustine says somewhere, 'God wants to give us something, but cannot, because our hands are full - there's nowhere for Him to put it.' Or as a friend of mine said, 'We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it's there for emergencies but he hopes he'll never have to use it.' Now God, who has made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as he leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call 'our own life' remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him. What then can God do in our interests but make 'our own life' less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible source of false happiness?

Joy

"Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful , but your sorrow will turn into joy. When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the worl. So also you have sorrow not, but I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. In that day you will ask nothing of me. Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give to you. Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full."

-John 16:20-24

May we long for the true, ultimate joy in life. Though we sorrow in the present, pure joy is yet to come. May we look to the Lord for the true wellspring of life, joy, and happiness. He is our Comfort, our Source, all that we need. Seek His joy, His love, His peace.

Update

...Just a quick update to let you know that we won! Yes, the GWU swim team defended their NEC Conference title for the 3rd. year in a row! I will have pictures up as soon as I get them back, I just wanted to let you know! :)

GWU Swim Team

So this is the lovely Gardner-Webb girls swim team. The picture came out kind of small, so you can't really see it, but I am on the far left, second in. :) That is our head coach on the right, Coach Simpson, he is a wonderful, godly man. I feel so blessed to be a part of a swim team that is built, from the foundation, on, first of all, God's word, and the belief that we live to glorify God and our giftings are simply an outworking of that. Right now, I am sitting in my hotel room in Landover, Maryland, just out side D.C. We are at out Conference Championships and the meet begins tomorrow. This has been a wonderful swim season, despite the pitfalls, the failures, and the despair, at times, we have had just as many successes, glorious moments, and wonderful times together to outweigh them all. As G.K. Chesterton stated, "New roads; new ruts." Such has been my first year in college swimming, yet I praise the Lord that I have the chance to be able to compete in swimming at the college level and that God has blessed me with such a wonderful team. Though we are not one of the swimming powerhouses of the nation, we don't have a huge budget, we have, quite frankly, a tiny pool, we have a prize that outweighs them all, a relationship with God. So, I ask that you would pray for us this weekend as we head into our meet, I will let you know how it goes.


This is a quote that encouraged me throughout this season.
"History has demonstrated that the most notable winners usually encountered heartbraking obstacles before they triumphed. They won because they refused to become discouraged by their defeats."
-B.C. Forbes


And, of course, Eric Liddell's words will always ring out true...
"I believe that God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run (swim:) I fell His pleasure."

"I run in God's name, let the world stand back in wonder."

Peace, Where There Is None

In a world that is consumed by frenzied chaos, one thing is certain, as Christians we are called to be a peaceful beacon of hope. In an age where stress rules our schedules, where every second of our day is categorized into our to-do lists, where there is barely a moment's rest to pause and reflect...we must take that moment. Whether it be in the early morning before the world arises, late in the evening before we go to sleep, or whether it be a slight pause in the middle of the day, we must learn to take that brief time to regroup, to bring everything that is going on in our lives into perspective.


Every time I take a trip to Europe and visit the Cathedrals, I am overcome by wonder at their magnificence and the beauty. In many places though there is an innate simplicity to the majesty as well. One of my favorite parts of the cathedral is the cloisters. The cloisters are, for the most part, four corridors with a courtyard of some sort in the middle. This courtyard may have anything from fountains to just simple landscaping, yet, the peace and serenity of the place is magnificent. It is a peace amidst the chaos, a humble center amidst the soaring heights of the surrounding structure, quiet amongst the noise...

Silent doors close on world’s confusion,
Noise and frenzy disappear,
Each step of faith bringing,
Peace, silence, and serenity,
A thousand feet have wandered here.

Seeking the Path of Wisdom,
Rootless hearts seek these cloistered walls,
Faltering steps of the sad and weary,
Seeking solace for their souls.

Modern man by life drained empty,
Nourished by broken bread of lives laid down,
Drinks from ancient wells of mercy,
Drinks deeply of healing of the soul.

Ancient souls stand in silent witness,
To this Temple built with living stones,
Secluded lives of prayer and service,
Serving God with heart and soul.

Cloistered walls by stone ribcage canopied,
Harbors safe the heartbeat of secret prayers,
Breathed by ancients t’ward Eternal Father,
Echoes loud in Heavens’ ears.

The way of peace and faith-bearers
Reaching to heaven, prayers vigil keeps,
From sunrise to sundown through the night watches,
Yearning to touch the heart of Heaven’s King.

From translucent pages of Lamb’s Book of Life,
Silent witnesses gaze down upon sinner and saint,
Reminding pilgrims and seekers, doubters and believers,
Faith embraces peace at the foot of the Cross.

Silent doors open to world’s frenzied confusion,
Noise and agitation reappear.
Each step of faith, bearing peace to the restless,
Blessed are the feet that have walked with Him here.

-Brianna Bleymaier 2002

The image at the beginning of the post is of the North Cloister in Chester Cathedral, built around 1525-1530. Chester is located in the north-west of England, right on the border of Wales. It was built around 2,000 years ago by the Romans and is one of the best preserved walled cities in the country. Chester is the beautiful city where my mum grew up.

Abide

Now you become angry and fainthearted and grieved, thinking that the heavenly Father is slow in answering. But I tell you that this will also happen as you desire—it will definitely happen—but first it takes prayer with all your soul, and then you must wait. And when you have forgotten your request and have ceased asking for it, it will come to you as a reward for your patience and endurance. When you reach the verge of despair while praying and seeking, then the fulfillment of your request is near. Christ wants to heal some hidden passion within you, and this is why He delays in granting your request. If you obtain it sooner, when you demand it, your passion remains uncured within you. If you wait, you obtain your request and the cure of the passion. And then you rejoice exceedingly and give warm thanks to God Who arranges all things in wisdom and does everything for our benefit.


-Elder Joseph the Hesychast


May we wait on His full and perfect will. Even amongst trial, pain, and tribulation. His grace and mercy is sufficient for all. Watch and wait...Abide in His perfect peace...

Why blog?

So, yesterday began the new semester...It will be a lot more intense than the last one, but I am very excited to see what's in store...


Just a thought for today for my fellow bloggers. I am in a class this semester called Technology and American Society. Basically, this class covers the evolution and current roles and practices of communication and information technologies. We will be studying the various mass communication media and their influence and impact on society and culture, and, in turn, what effects these are having on the business, political, and economic systems of the U.S. As a result, we will study everything from blogging and podcasting, to major news networking and advertising. As we were discussing this in class, I was thinking about the major blogging boom that has occurred in recent years. All of sudden, everyone who is anyone has a blog, and they are used for everything from expressing ideas to just providing information about people, places, or things. While I sat contemplating, a fellow classmate of mine brought the question up to our teacher - "Why blog? Why spend time doing that if you're not someone of importance?" Then, the wheels began to turn and churn...Why do we blog, fellow bloggers? Why do we spend a few minutes, or large amounts of time in some cases, expressing and communicating our ideas into this small text box, then launching it out into cyberspace, sometimes with no guarantees it will even be read? I continued my contemplation as I walked across campus to my next class, which happened to be an Introduction to Historical Study class. In this class, which is a very small group, our professor challenged us all to be active members of the class, not to be passively sit back and accept information but to be active and express our opinions in class. And then...it came...the answer to my question...our professor tells us that we need to be free to communicate our ideas and then he suddenly states, "The greatest ideas in the world don't mean anything if they never get outside the thinker's head." There you have it...not that my ideas are the greatest ideas in the world, but in this process of blogging, I believe we reach a whole different level of thinking and analyzing by expressing our ideas through words...sending them out with no criticism, no judgment, which can free us to think and express bigger and even greater things. A few years ago I would have never dreamed of blogging and even when I did begin, no one knew about it, it was just freeing for me to have the ability to do it. Out of that has grown a greater confidence for me to express my opinions and beliefs, not necessarily to an end or purpose but for my own benefit. So, I encourage you, my fellow bloggers, my fellow thinkers...Express yourselves! Think out loud! Dare to explore ideas! More people may benefit than you think...