The Beauty of the Word

I have always known, it has been there, right in front of me, I knew what it was, what it was about, I knew that it was rich, I knew that it was the greatest work ever written...yet, I have been struck...I have been drawn. As of late, the Lord has been working on my heart to reach deeper and further into His word, and I have been struck by its beauty. Oh, the beauty of the truth! What an amazing gift that we can read a book and know, undoubtingly that every word it says is good and true and beautiful!


"Who has believed what they heard from us? And to whom has the arm of the Lord has been revealed? For he grew up before him like a young plant, and lilke a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He has oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth. By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people? And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth. Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for sin, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities. Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong, because he poured out his soul t the death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors."


-Isaiah 53

Finding A Balance

Here is a passage from The Screwtape Letters, by one of the greatest apologists of his time, C.S. Lewis. This excerpt is a poignant exhortation to Christians to not be complacent in their faith and to be wary of religion that becomes diluted over time.


"Screwtape offers ways to cleverly exploit the Patient's dry spell:


'But there is an even better way of exploiting the trough; I mean through the patient's own thoughts about it. As always the first step is to keep knowledge out of his mind. Do not let him suspect the law of undulation. Let him assume that the first ardours of his conversion might have been expected to last and ought to have lasted, forever, and that his present dryness is an equally permanenct condition. Having once got this misconception well fixed in his head, you may then proceed in various ways. It all depends on whether your man is of the desponding type who can be tempted to despair, or of the wishful-thinking type who can be assured that all is well. The former type is getting rare among humans. If your patient should happen to belong to it, everything is easy. You have only got to keep him out of the way of experienced Christians (an easy task nowadays), to direct his attention to the appropriate passages in scripture, and then to set him to work on the desperate design of recovering his old feelings by sheer will-power, and the game is ours. If he is of the more hopeful type, your job is to make him acquiesce in the present low temperature of his spirit and gradually become content with it, persuading himself that it is not so low after all. In a week or two you will be making him doubt whether the first days of his Christianity were not, perhaps, a little excessive. Talk to him about 'moderation in all things.' If you can once get him to the point of thinking that 'religion is all very well up to a point', you can feel quite happy about his soul. A moderated religion is as good for us as no religion at all - and more amusing.'"

My Goodness! My Guinness...is Red!

Guinness...The Godfather of all Stouts...The Nectar of the Irish Gods...
The "Black Stuff"...


...is undergoing a bit of a makeover this month. According to Diageo, the world's largest alcoholic drinks group and the owner's of Guinness, Guinness launches a trial of this intriguing new draught this month in 142 pubs owned by Mitchell & Butlers. The new Guinness Red uses a lighter barley for the ruby red colouring; yet, will maintain the creamy head of its traditional, darker predecessor and, much to a drinker's delight, its original price. In addition, it will maintain its 4.1 percent alcohol level and will be brewed at the traditional St. James Gate Brewery in Dublin. The trial period will probably last 3-9 months and is one of many trials that Guinness has released.


So, dear, Guinness drinkers alike worldwide...drink on! Just don't be alarmed at the tinge of your draught...it's a purposeful snafu!


Guinness Factoids:
-Guinness is served in 150 countries worldwide.
-10 million glasses of Guinness are consumed every day.
-Though heavily associated with Ireland, the parent company owning Guinness has been headquartered in London since 1932.

The Greatest Blessing

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I consider one of the greatest blessings in life to be friendship. I have been blessed to come into contact with so many wonderful people over the course of my life, and beyond that I have been blessed to call many of them my close and dear friends. There are many different kinds of friends...From ones that you see regularly, to ones that you may go months without speaking with, and yet when you do, it is as if you had just spoken the day before. From dear, close friends who are merely separated by distance, to acquaintances that grow and blossom into beautiful friendships.

As we walk through this life friends are one of the greatest gifts the Lord can give us. People to laugh and cry with, hope with, mourn with, have faith with...people for us to have, so we can encourage each other in our walk.



As Emerson states with friends we, "can afford to be stupid with them," which I consider one of the greatest blessings of all. Because, to be stupid with a person does not just mean that you are "senseless" it means that you can be yourself, there are no boundaries, you're allowed to throw caution to the wind and truly be you (which does, as you can see in a couple of the pictures does mean a bit of senseless fun). One of my favorite quotes on friendship is by C.S. Lewis, "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What?! You Too?! I thought I was the only one.'"



I am blessed, blessed to have so many friends. Friends to learn from, walk with, and love.

Unfortunately...I didn't have pictures of everyone...but I love you all!

Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.


William Cowper
1731-1800

Blue & Orange Country

BOISE BRONCOS WIN 2007 FIESTA BOWL!!!!!

So, I haven't posted in...three months, and so I thought it would be appropriate to come back to the blogging world at the New Year, with something truly exciting. The David and Goliath experience of the BCS series...one of the greatest wins in the history of college football...the Boise State Broncos beating the Oklahoma State Sooners, in Arizona, in one of THE most exciting games ever witnessed in college football.

Boise is definitely famous for one thiing in this country and that is it's Smurf Turf, but often times, people tend to forget that they're prety good at the football part too. The Broncos came in as the definitive underdogs, commentators all over the networks felt assured of the stability and toughness of the Sooners. Yet, from the get go, the underdog fought, and he fought hard.




If you missed the game, or turned the game off for some reason, go find the recap on the television or internet somewhere. However, you wouldn't have been the first to fall asleep, even Florida coach admits to dozin off: "I hate to say this, I fell asleep and my wife kept hitting me. She said it was the greatest football game she ever saw." Amen and amen.









And so, the Broncos finished off their year 13-0...the perfect season...with the perfect game...

And there, second in from the left, is the athletic director, my Uncle Gene.

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.