Dancing Before the Lord

The Feast so far is going swimmingly, but that isn't what I've come to write about. Actually, the other evening some of us girls (the bibleschool girls, a girl named Rachel, Jayne, Katie, and me) got together for a hoopla with the horah. For the deprived few that don't know what it is, it's a dance that is used among the Jews, and it involves holding hands and dancing in a circle. It has a very constant, quick rythm that you have to follow however, or you very well could get lost. Hop-hop-hop-hop-cross-step-cross-step-hop-hop-hop-hop-cross-step-cross-step and so on. So now I found myself gripping warm, sweaty fingers on either side of me and then rushing round and round and round in the constant pattern of the horah with fast-paced, boisterous music from Fiddler On the Roof pounding in our ears to lead us on and trying to not get off the beat. Every once in a while a foot would get tangled and then the laborious task would be found to get back in step once again, all the time never letting go of the hands on either side. If I had to, I would hold on to my neighbors' fingertips in a fierce pinch for fear of ever letting go, because when that happened, there would be difficulty in joining again and we might have to start all over again. Faster and faster we seemed to move, Israel skirts swishing simultaneously, rushing on and on until we got cramps and were each all hot and out of breath. Or until the music stopped.

We tried two circles, with three in the middle, and this provided new dangers to avoid colliding with each other. With many close calls, we refused to be dizzy, laughing now and then, but mostly breathing as one the constant steps of hop-hop and so on. Besides near collisions, the only other minor injuries received were when Katherine briefly sprained her ankle and I knocked my heel straight into a pole. We still enjoyed each minute to the last, however, and left feeling like we had gotten our exercise. What a wonderful way to rejoice and dance before the Lord!

The search for extinguishing fires and the pulling of bells

Ahah! I had a startling revelation. In all of my busy-ness of school and what not, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I could count some blog writing for school. Ding! (lightbulb) I put this question to my own dear mother, and she said yes! Oh brilliant am I, am I not? ha ha ha! Now I can occasionally do this (if I practice creative writing in the process) instead of my regular writing for school, which is quite a prospect because I can get two things done at once, though I still need to keep up with other projects. Okay, now, what is it I'm going to write about to make my time worthwhile?

The bibleschool has started in full swing! Ah yes, and it's funny how every year the class seems better than the one before. Not that there was anything wrong with the people in past classes, but somehow you come to enjoy the present people more and more and it seems to grow increasingly interesting. It's a very complicated situation.

Last Tuesday we lacked the benevolent Brandon and Mary to do fellowship meeting, so the load fell onto my dad's shoulders (actually, he probably volunteered). After coming down from a rather sweaty time at sports, everyone discovered that their exercise wasn't done yet. The activity was a scavenger hunt, called Fun With a Purpose. In this game each team received fifteen hypothetical questions that they could answer from the guidebook. This included things like: if you go to the gym and someone else is there who gets first priority, and what do you do when you're watching a TV program with staff permission (any bibleschool alumni have any answers?). This wasn't all, however. Oh no. The other part was that you had to find all of the fire extinguishers and pulls in all of the public buildings at Fairwood, including Fairview. The first team to find all of them, answer the most questions correctly, and have the best time, wins.

Not so easy. The fact remained that my dad didn't know how many fire extinguishers or pulls there were, so it would all depend on the student's accuracy. At this my dad changed his mind, and as I placidly watched the students rush out of the parlor, happy I didn't have to exert such energy, he asked me to help him find them. This meant we would have to rush around trying to beat the students, finding as many as possible. We would go together, or sometimes split up, our eyes scanning every nook and cranny for something red, which would be the giveaway to discovering our desired object. Not only that, but we had to remember where we saw all of them, and give a brief description as to where it would be located. In this manner we went through the garage, dining hall, wood shop, apartment building entryways, women's dorm, men's dorm (yes the whole team of mixed genders was allowed into both the men's and women's dorms!), Main House (sorry Mary, since you weren't there your apartment was included), gym, lodge, church, generator shed, and Fairview.

One of the biggest problems posed for me was the fact that I didn't want to turn on too many lights in various places. This would then attract the attention of undeserving teams that would have never thought of looking where I was, and as I did not have a flash light like the students, I would often grope about in pitch blackness, feeling for the door I knew would come in front of me, or stumbling about for a light switch. More than once the teams mistook me for an enemy team member, and would try to hide their findings from me, until I convinced them that they actually wanted me to see their discoveries. Running about madly from one building to the next, glancing through empty corners or spotting a flash of red, my feet grew tired from the relentless drive in which I was wearing absolutely the wrong shoes to do it in. I volunteered to jog through the dark up to Fairview, occasionally meeting a team, identifiable by the spot of light that a student would be carrying as a beacon. Exhausted, I tip-toed quietly through the dim halls of Fairview, then back into the dark night to return speedily to Daddy, counting and recounting the numbers and locations of all I had found. My last project was searching through the Main House basement, and finally checking under the seat of a gray van to locate the fire extinguisher bonus point. I threw myself down into a chair in the parlor to catch my breath and wait as the students filed back in.

The questions were answered, the numbers totalled, arguments sprung, but in the end the final tally was this: 43 fire extinguishers and 37 pulls, of which my dad and I had found 42 and 34 of. Not bad considering there were two of us and four people on each team. In the end Kimberly's team won, also consisting of Van Lora, Elizabeth, and Andrew. Hurray for the winning members! They received used books from the bookstore as a reward.

And I was thankful that I hadn't gotten to run my mile earlier in the day, because I was tuckered out as it was.

Concerning church mice and their funerals

The most astonishing thing happened in church today. We were having church in the basement, and I'm afraid that a few people might not have paid quite as close attention to the service as they might have, due to a new visitor, or visitors, that chose to grace us with their presence. It was a tiny personage, not much longer than an inch, with a pointed, gray visage, a humped back, and beady black eyes. Yes, we had a mouse in our meeting. Actually, as we discovered after awhile, we had two. I don't think they were very well behaved for church mice, however, because they didn't seem to be content with staying still for very long. It was most distracting when they scurried about on the stage, climbing on my dad's feet and nibbling the carpet. It was a source of quiet amusement for many. During one of these creature's travels about the room, it made it's way toward the sound person's feet. Today it was Derrick, and I don't think the mouse could have made a worse decision to choose to spread his curiosity at Derrick's feet. As I watched, he lifted both feet up as if to escape being traversed upon by the small vagabond, but then he did something I could hardly believe my eyes of. Derrick's black foot landed with such speed and accuracy, right upon the mouse! I flinched instantaneously, covering my face in my hands. I could hardly believe that he had just done that, not only that he would have the stomach to do it, but that he had the cruelty to do so. At the same time Craig was snickering softly next to me, and I could not repress the inexplicable desire to laugh out loud. We sat there in agony, try to smother the laughter that was quelling up inside.

It was still very distressing to see Derrick after the meeting dispose of a very still, if not a rather flat, mouse.

Poems sprouting left and right

Yip-de-ya-do-da, yip-de-do-day, oh what a day!

Okay, here's the scoop ya'll. This is just a little a collection of poems that I've written roughly from sixth grade to the present. Some of them are simple, some shocking, some hilariously ridiculous, but I hope you enjoy them all, despite their amateur writer.

This one I wrote on our trip out West a month or so after I turned eleven:

"It All Started As a Dream"

It all started as a dream and this poem tells you how,

Would you like to hear the story later? Or would you rather hear it now?

But since I a'ready started, I may as well continue,

For someone else may tell it wrong, and you would be confused. Kashew! [that was my random way of sneezing to making it rhyme:D]

It all started with Mum's surgery

Surgery number three

Or maybe it was number one, or maybe number two,

Or maybe number four or five,

I'm not sure, ar you?

Mum was feeling very bad

Not the mean kind, not sad,

But she was in enormous pain,

For operations had left her part slain.

Mum was feeling very low,

She needed something to give her cheer,

What could be better than a trip?

B'sides, it would keep the males from drinking beer. [whoah I was weird back then! In case you don't know, my dad and brothers never drink that dark beverage:)]

And so that you are not confused,

This trip, by Mum was fused,

It was not fused by Craig or Dad,

Neither Kendra, Clyde, nor Chad.

But then did Mum both think and plan,

And then discuss it with "her man"

In him she did doth confide

Leaving him and God to decide

Then she dreamed and hoped,

Hoped and scanned,

Then she told us what she had planned

Then WE dreamed and hoped,

Knowing hopes too high would be absurd,

Then Dad told us what he had heard,

He said he thought we could take the trip,

And if he had heard wrong, may he feel the Whip,

And if that happened, we wouldn't go,

No matter how many "buts" and "thoughs."

"Whoopee!" we cried.

But then we sighed,

The packing list will be long,

And we may by chance do something wrong,

"Never fear!" My mumma said,

"Never fear for I am near!"

So we packed, and then were sent

To Herbert, New York, away we went!

And then the next day

(the thirteenth of May)

We left first thing, for Indianay!

There, we picked up Kendra, the vile,

(Though "vile" is really not true),

And then we hung about for awhile,

And left at half past two.

From there we went to Illinois,

(Or Springfield, to be more exact)

And stayed at Baymont Inn and Suites,

(A hotel all out of wack).

Alas, I never finished the poem, though I had planned to proceed to describe the whole rest of our trip through Kansas, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, etc. but obviously never completed my masterpiece. :-) Oh, here's another poem from my memory that I wrote before sixth grade (more likely in fourth grade), with a little help to the final touches (such as rhythm) from Craig, because we were sending the poem to some people as a thank you gift for helping us out when we were stranded in New York. Their names are the Bowens:

It happened on the hour one,

In the afternoon so clear,

When the Bowens took us in,

Fed us hot dogs and root beer.

They gave us lots of tasty food,

That I can't deny,

But why they were so kind to us,

I cannot tell you why.

They let the boys watch football,

That I HAVE to say,

But most importantly of all,

They were host and hostess all the way!

K, here's another. The first stanza was inspired by when I was lying in bed on a bright moonlit night and I constructed at least part of this poem in my head and scribbled it down by moonlight so I wouldn't forget it.

"I love. . . "

I love the moon as she shines in the night,

Her light is not yellow, gray, but white,

Her silvery rays gently glimmer and glisten,

Her beauty just shouts! (just be quiet and listen)

I love the sun as she gives gentle heat,

Her little soft sunbeams are oh, so sweet,

I love her most when she shines through the cold,

She seems so young, yet she is so old!

I love the wind as she skips through my hair,

At times she is forceful, yet at times she has care,

I love her also, when she sings in the trees,

And when in heat she refreshes me with a soft cool breeze.

But I love Jesus all the best,

For He created all the rest,

He dries my tears when I am sad,

And forgives me when I'm bad,

I'd like to see Him, here, today,

'Cause I love Jesus all the way!

Here's another I wrote during a March Feast for sixth grade:

Oh little stream, oh little brook,

All so soothing and so flowing,

What makes you clear and smooth as glass?

What makes you keep on going?

I like to sit and watch you,

Skipping o'er the stones,

And watch you splash and ripple,

Making musical tones.

I like to see you gliding,

And glis'ning in the sun;

And bubbling and gurgling,

Oh, that looks like such fun!

This is one that I have to laugh at its randomness. I wrote it when I was in Israel in sixth grade:

"The Violin's Woe"

The violin sang with all its might,

Sang, sang, sang into the night,

It shimmered and glimmered in the moonlight.

The violin cried, the violin sighed,

As it sang it also goodbyed,

The violin laughed, it gave a smile,

Treasuring time all the while.

As the violin would long so play,

People would listen and all would say:

"This violin's melody is pure and sweet,

It makes for us a beautiful treat!"

To this the violin never heeded,

Its Master's touch was all it needed,

For the violin loved its Master much,

And its soul sang out at his kindly touch.

The violin's soul would sing out it's bliss,

"Ah, this man I truly shall miss!"

For this was to be the last time he'd play it,

And then, who knows? Someone may betray it,

And I shall explain soon just why,

The violin knew this man would die,

And this, only the violin knew,

Why die?

Because the man was a Jew,

And this was World War Two.

Here's another random one that I conjured up last summer when to my startled surprise, I spotted a bright red leaf on the road in the middle of summer:

"A Red Leaf in Summer"

I was walking down the path one day,

One sunny, summer morning,

Before me on the path there lay,

A bright red leaf of warning.

Bloody red, edges black

And thoughtful veins of green,

It said, "Please stop! Return, go back!"

A stranger sight I've never seen.

I was about to turn away,

When then I heard a noise,

A bit ahead, right there it lay,

A jaguar, stiff, and poised.

Had I taken another step,

And ignored the little leaf's warning,

I would have been crowned in a funeral wreath,

My mother, nearby, in mourning.

So let this be a lesson to you,

If you see a strange sight, pay attention,

For though it may come in different forms,

Pay heed to a warningful mention.

So remember my story, I plead, I pray,

Try not to forget what my leaf had to say.

Okay, there are others I could put in if I could find or remember them or if I though they were worth it. I was supposed to cover different senses in my writing course last school year and not try to make it rhyme, which I don't like as much. So if you don't like it, I wouldn't be surprised, because I'm not that certain about it myself, and I'm not sure if it's perfected or anything like that (hey, none of these are really, anyway, so why am I going on like this?):

Ultimate frisbee

Dashing madly to be free of clinging opponents,

An opening--I snatch the frisbee out of the air

Confusing blaze of colorful players,

My name being pounded into my ears

I try a toss, but the breeze is against me

The frisbee topples toward the ground

But stops

A noble teammate rescues it.

I'm sticking to my defense

A sound, I turn my head

Wham! I taste blood on my lips

Blink back salty tears

And play on.

We're tied.

I dodge, alert, near the point line

Frisbee hovers in the air

I race with the wind at my back

I dive

Smell grass

Scrape my knee

Stand, clutching my prize

And drop it

The game is won.

I was required to write season poems also, here's one:
Summer
Quivering green leaves
Splash of jumping into a lake
Sweaty grip of the baseball bat
Cool watermelon
Pungent fresh cut grass
Lazy Summer.


Now another:
Green looks airy, like spring,
Green feels smooth, like a waxy leaf
Green smells dreamy like mint leaves,
Green sounds like the rustle of the wind in the leaves
Green tastes like sharp spearmint.


Peace is sitting snug indoors while a storm is raging.
Peace is getting a long hug from somebody dear to you.
Peace is feeling a hush during a Sabbath meeting.
Peace is knowing that everything's going to be all right.


Excitement is anticipation of an event weeks ahead of time.
Excitement is when a baby says your name for the first time.
Excitement is leaning forward to speed read through the best part in your book.
Excitement is completing something thrilling that you've never done before. (like jet skiiing!:)


I am the fire
I chuckle as I feed on wood,
Jumping in my fireplace
People blink at my smoky breath,
I wonder why nobody wants to touch me.

Phew! Hope I haven't exhausted you! I wouldn't blame you if you are. I think I would definitely be.