I left the world of dragons and gnomes behind. Having just finished my book, Magic Kingdom For Sale, I meandered into the kitchen and peaked into the fridge and freezer. Sitting in the freezer was Craig's Nalgene, partially filled with iced coffee. A light flicked on in my cranium, and I decided that of course I wanted iced coffee as well! (This wasn't just because I wanted to copy my brother; I happen to like iced coffee exceedingly, provided it has enough cream and sugar and isn't liable to keep me awake all night)
I set to it.
Only, in the process I got a little carried away. You see, the last time I made iced coffee was when I made a pitcher for my family. At the time I made the mistake of forgetting to add the sugar while the water was hot so it was difficult to make it dissolve. Well, Kayla rarely makes the same mistake twice . . . so I poured the sugar into my VERY potent four ounces of boiling water. (Imagine drinking two servings of coffee and a lot of sugar black in that condensed mixture. Shudder . . . )
There was a problem.
I soon realized that in my zest for sweetness and pride in my cleverness (I wasn't making the same mistake twice, remember?) I had forgotten one crucial point.
I was no longer making a pitcherful of coffee. I only had enough decaf coffee for two servings, and I had unthinkingly poured in about as much sugar to satisfy an army with sweet tooths. Well, probably not an army, but maybe a family.
Gulp.
There's no way I'm wasting that coffee.
So I'm drinking it anyway, even if my face is inclined to a benign grimace as I do so.
Maybe I'll drink it quick so I can enjoy one of Craig's peach smoothies.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Creeks, speed limit signs, and freedom
I am having an amazing vacation. Seriously! I'm staying in an air conditioned, modern town house in the mid South (thanks to some extremely generous and awesome relatives), and sleeping in until ten or eleven every morning (shocking, I know). I've almost made a point to do little productive reading. War and Peace (I've started the second volume now) has been gathering dust while I've eagerly been devouring the second and third books of the Mysterious Benedict Society, and now I'm feasting on some Terry Brooks. If I have time I hope to dig into some P.G. Wodehouse before I'm completely done. Besides that, I've done very little. Oh yes, we've gone into town a few times to do some exploring or brief shopping. I've played games with my mom, watched TV with my dad, and gone swimming in a nearby creek with Craig.
The creek was the perfect thing to do in the blistering heat. Even though it only went up to our knees it felt deliciously cool to lie down and douse ourselves. Craig showed me that it was even possible to float in the super shallow water if you held your breath the right way, and I let the current carry me a little ways downstream. I only stopped because there were some creepy guys (who happened to be Hispanic) sitting on the bank a little ways down and I didn't really want to go by them, though I'm sure they saw me and probably took no notice. Between floating, Craig and I sat in the water and found lots of perfect rocks to skip. I had had little success in the recent past in skipping stones, but this time I discovered that when I'm sitting on level with the water I can skip stones proficiently enough. Not very well, mind you, but just well enough to excite me. My talents in that area have been considerably dry.
One day, I decided to brave the heat and humidity (which was quite decent even at quarter to eight in the evening) and go running. I settled on a golfing community across the street, and the whole thing was pretty uneventful, except for one tiny observation. I saw a speed limit sign that said 19 1/2 miles per hour! Wow, wonders never cease. Actually, I thought it was kind of funny when only a few days earlier I had seen a sign that said 19 mph. I was musing about this sight out loud (why would anyone do something like that?) when my dad pointed out that it was good for making people THINK about it. He got me there. I was thinking a LOT more about the speed limit than I would have if the sign had read a blase 20 mph. And I DEFINITELY looked twice or thrice when I saw a sign that said 19 1/2 mph. Mission accomplished, I guess. Who knows how fast I might have run if the sign hadn't been there?
After several days of doing pretty much nothing (sounds wonderful, doesn't it?), we finally ventured forth to do something different. Not only did we stop at Good Will and later Dairy Queen (pretty much a vacation tradition in our family), but we went to see the Battlefield of Antietam. I suppose it's not that much more exciting than most battle fields, but it was quite thought provoking for me. You see, not only was Antietam labeled "the bloodiest battle of the Civil War" (with 23,000 + casualties in the 12 hours of fighting, 4 times as many American casualties as there were on D-day), but the whole place was so serene and peaceful. Cornfields rippled lazily in the late afternoon breeze, round hay bales dotted the green landscape, and blue mountains rose gently to majestically fringe the horizon. We crossed Burnside's Bridge (Ambrose Burnside, as you may or may not be aware, is the general whose name has brought us the term that we use to refer to sideburns) where about 500 Georgia Confederates held out against Union attack for three hours or more. I walked across the bridge in awe, surveying the calm water and thinking about the scenes that this bridge had witnessed. It's amazing how such an idyllic place could host such carnage.
It makes me think, and it makes me feel grateful. Grateful for the beauty of God's creation that can remain unmarred by man's sanguinary conflicts. And grateful for those who so willingly spill their blood so that others may feel the pulse of freedom coursing through their veins.
They died so that that freedom wouldn't spill out.
The creek was the perfect thing to do in the blistering heat. Even though it only went up to our knees it felt deliciously cool to lie down and douse ourselves. Craig showed me that it was even possible to float in the super shallow water if you held your breath the right way, and I let the current carry me a little ways downstream. I only stopped because there were some creepy guys (who happened to be Hispanic) sitting on the bank a little ways down and I didn't really want to go by them, though I'm sure they saw me and probably took no notice. Between floating, Craig and I sat in the water and found lots of perfect rocks to skip. I had had little success in the recent past in skipping stones, but this time I discovered that when I'm sitting on level with the water I can skip stones proficiently enough. Not very well, mind you, but just well enough to excite me. My talents in that area have been considerably dry.
One day, I decided to brave the heat and humidity (which was quite decent even at quarter to eight in the evening) and go running. I settled on a golfing community across the street, and the whole thing was pretty uneventful, except for one tiny observation. I saw a speed limit sign that said 19 1/2 miles per hour! Wow, wonders never cease. Actually, I thought it was kind of funny when only a few days earlier I had seen a sign that said 19 mph. I was musing about this sight out loud (why would anyone do something like that?) when my dad pointed out that it was good for making people THINK about it. He got me there. I was thinking a LOT more about the speed limit than I would have if the sign had read a blase 20 mph. And I DEFINITELY looked twice or thrice when I saw a sign that said 19 1/2 mph. Mission accomplished, I guess. Who knows how fast I might have run if the sign hadn't been there?
After several days of doing pretty much nothing (sounds wonderful, doesn't it?), we finally ventured forth to do something different. Not only did we stop at Good Will and later Dairy Queen (pretty much a vacation tradition in our family), but we went to see the Battlefield of Antietam. I suppose it's not that much more exciting than most battle fields, but it was quite thought provoking for me. You see, not only was Antietam labeled "the bloodiest battle of the Civil War" (with 23,000 + casualties in the 12 hours of fighting, 4 times as many American casualties as there were on D-day), but the whole place was so serene and peaceful. Cornfields rippled lazily in the late afternoon breeze, round hay bales dotted the green landscape, and blue mountains rose gently to majestically fringe the horizon. We crossed Burnside's Bridge (Ambrose Burnside, as you may or may not be aware, is the general whose name has brought us the term that we use to refer to sideburns) where about 500 Georgia Confederates held out against Union attack for three hours or more. I walked across the bridge in awe, surveying the calm water and thinking about the scenes that this bridge had witnessed. It's amazing how such an idyllic place could host such carnage.
It makes me think, and it makes me feel grateful. Grateful for the beauty of God's creation that can remain unmarred by man's sanguinary conflicts. And grateful for those who so willingly spill their blood so that others may feel the pulse of freedom coursing through their veins.
They died so that that freedom wouldn't spill out.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
The Unromantic Prince
Here's a humble tale I haphazardly composed today "just for fun." It's been a long time since I've written a story for pleasure!
"Quiddlyoomph," a miniature booming voice squeaked from my breast pocket. Please don't ask me how a voice can boom and squeak at the same time. If you knew my gecko friend, you would know.
I blinked in mild surprise at my pocket. "What did you say?" I asked.
"You heard me," was the terse answer. "Quiddlyoomph. It is my new expression to convey annoyance. Much more eloquent than 'humph,' I dare say." Martin, my friend and constant companion, blinked his beady eyes at me as if to say, "Just you try to argue with me." I didn't even want to try.
"Oh, very well, old chap," I replied. "'Quiddlyoomph' all you want, I suppose, though I must say it's a trifle distracting. I could have fallen over backward into that chasm I was just leaping over, just from the mere shock of the thing. I hope you weren't too badly jarred from the leap, old fellow."
Martin's black eyes looked like they went through a reverse clay baking process. That is, one moment they were hard and beady, the next they were moist lumps of clay. "Oh, if you must shake me up a bit in here in order to save lives, I suppose I can try not to complain. I'll limit myself to minor tits of 'quiddle'; now how does that sound?"
"Capital," I answered, and smiled. Now back to business. Casually I strode toward the ancient castle before me, whose broken bridge I had just leaped over. The whole premises was a perfect specimen of fossilized magnificence. If it weren't for the broken bridge, huge masses of overgrown brambles, and the faint sound of rusty chains grinding, I would have supposed the place was in its prime, not unlike my own castle, where I lived with my parents and twelve sisters.
I drew my sword (a hag had given it to me before coming here) and slashed easily through the brambles. The average branches were only six inches in diameter so I had no trouble.
"You know, you might be disappointing that hag by how easily you're cutting through those," Martin observed from my pocket. "She was quite convinced that these brambles would be impossible for you unless you wielded her magic sword. I'm afraid you're not allowing the magic enough time to kick in."
"Oh, sorry," I said, and paused my slicing. "Do you suppose I should wait a bit and do this more slowly? Would that be the kindest thing to do?"
Martin rolled his eyes. Don't ask me how one can tell that a gecko with no irises is rolling his eyes. Friends just have a sixth sense about these things.
"Don't bother," he said. "We may as well get on with it. The king and queen, in fact, the whole royal family is quite anxious that you don't blow it this time."
"I know," I replied, a little embarrassed. "I truly wish I could give everybody satisfaction, but you see it's rather difficult to do that and maintain my convictions of kindness and chivalry."
"I know, I know," Martin sighed. "But you don't have to be quite so concerned for the well-being of others. Like the time when the queen arranged it for you to be turned into a frog. Why, that maiden actually wanted to kiss you, and you had to spoil everything and run away from her!"
I was a little hurt. "I told her quite positively that she would get warts if she touched me, and it was only for fear of her own safety that I fled so I wouldn't have to inflict such a hardship on her."
"But then she chased you," Martin pointed out. "Didn't that kind of give you a hint that she actually didn't care if she got warts or not? And besides, frogs don't give warts. The myth is that toads do, so your excuses were extra erroneous."
"Oh," I said, a little crestfallen. How stupid I was! Perhaps I should have let the poor girl kiss me after all.
Martin chuckled, "I must say, however, that it was quite the amusing sight to see that prim and proper maiden chase you about the swamp through mud and slime. She was so determined to marry a prince!"
I smiled at the recollection. "Yes, that was kind of funny, wasn't it? And I rather enjoyed having such springy legs, enabling me to always be one hop out of her reach." I sobered a little. "But the queen was furious with me afterwards."
"She was," Martin agreed. "But then she always is. Especially after that whole situation with Rapunzel. That was really pathetic, you know, and especially embarrassing because Rodrigo, your old rival, ended up with the prize! Was climbing up the girl's hair really that hard to do?"
I was a little offended this time. "How could you say such a thing, Martin? Of course the actually climb would have been nothing, but when she offered me her tresses as a climbing device all I could think of was Sanders."
"Sanders?" Martin asked skeptically. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"Sanders, as you know, was my tutor. One of my more strict tutors," I grimaced. My scalp just tingled at the thought of him. "And he had a habit of pulling my hair, yes, and even dragging me by my hair, even insisting that I not walk so that it would hurt all the more."
"Oy, no wonder your father got rid of him," Martin winced sympathetically, which was quite remarkable considering the fact that he'd never had any hair in his life. I nodded. "But," Martin persisted, "what does Sanders have to do with Rapunzel?"
"Everything," I told him. "When her long hair hung down by me all I could think of was Sanders, and I couldn't imagine bestowing such excruciating pain on this fair damsel by hanging my whole weight on her lovely locks. I knew those locks were still attached to her scalp, you see."
"I never thought of that," Martin said quietly, apparently touched. "But how come she didn't appreciate your thoughtfulness?"
"Well, after working for two hours to climb up the face of the tower (there were hardly any footholds, you know, and what crevices there were never exceeded an inch in measurement), I finally arrived at Rapunzel's window. She was rather frightened when she first saw me, and then she grew very angry. 'What? You mean I've been waiting and growing my hair this long for nothing?' Then she pushed me out the window. I managed to scrabble at tiny nooks in the wall enough to break my fall so I wasn't too badly injured."
"You mean you only took two hours to climb up practically bare rock face? And then she was foolish enough to not see your heroism and shove you out the window? Quiddlyoomph! Sounds like she wasn't worth it anyway."
I shrugged and continued. "As I was surveying the damage done to my body (only a couple broken bones, nothing to be too concerned about), Rodrigo appeared. He would have liked to think that he appeared in magnificent splendor, but I knew he was just appearing so he could one up me. He had watched the whole episode, and so he came and asked Rapunzel to let down her golden hair. Down it came, up he went, and the rest is history."
"Good riddance," Martin snapped. "Sounds like they deserved each other."
I said nothing. I had allowed my sword strokes to slow down to let the magic kick in (the sword must have been magic because the weapon still sliced the thickest brambles even though I was only using an ounce of my strength), and now the path to the main gate of the castle was open. I stopped, taken aback, but then I realized that I shouldn't have been. Wasn't my mother always trying to come up with some extraordinary way for me to find a bride? And didn't I overhear her say that this castle was enchanted? Asleep, would have been the better term, for sitting a few paces in front of me were two guards in heavy slumber, leaning against their spears.
And then I knew what the noise I had been hearing was. What had at first sounded like rusty chains grinding was in fact the sound of snoring. Lots of snoring.
After trying to awaken the two guards, ("Dear sirs, you must awake!" "Open sesame, oh eyes!") I managed to open the heavy, half-rotten gates and the sound of snoring only heightened. It was not a continual sound, but a continual sporadic jumble, quite like the sound of popcorn popping. Only, as I walked into the courtyard, this popcorn was all around me as if I were in a surround-sound amphitheater of frogs. Here was a guard I had just passed, letting loose an ominous growl from deep within his barrel-like chest. Here was the high-pitched chortle of a stable boy who must have been crossing the yard on some errand. And there was the delicate, pinched snore of a scullery maid, or the faint sighs of a grand young lady leaning against the dilapidated steps of a carriage. Everywhere were people scattered here in there in noisy repose, dreaming dreams of thunderous splendor. Sometimes, by chance, certain snores came in unison, other times in harmony.
"Looks like we have a choir," Martin remarked dryly. "This might be your most interesting adventure yet. Let's go find the princess."
I gazed at my friend, not surprised by his attitude. A feeling of dread filled me. Did I really want to go through with this? A part of me so longed to do the right thing, to be accepted by my family and even a lovely girl, but I felt like I was going about it in the wrong way. Why did finding a bride have to be something wrapped up in glamor and excitement? Wouldn't it be just as romantic if I met an ordinary girl that I loved, asked her to marry me and she said yes? No bells or whistles?
"Martin, I have a feeling I'm going to mess up again," I told my friend. He looked sharply at me. I sighed. "But I do so want to do the right thing."
"You always do the right thing," my gecko friend's emphatic words pounded into my skull. This time I was astounded, and I searched his green little face for sarcasm but saw none. "Never mind the fact that you don't always do what pleases your bossy mother, or your father, for that matter. And forget your silly sisters. You've always done the most gracious and most right thing anybody could have thought of, unlike some princes I could name."
"Martin, I can take disparaging comments about Rodrigo, but if you're talking about Michael I won't have anything said maligning him," I said.
"Oh, I know you won't," Martin retorted, exasperated. "But you were so close, Jed! You had the glass slipper in your hand, you had the sweet little lady's trim foot in the other, and all you had to do was slip the thing on and ask her if she would marry you, but you didn't."
"I was thinking how uncomfortable a glass slipper must really be," I answered calmly. "I looked at it and saw that it was not shaped to fit the contour of one's foot, and judging by the size of the shoe and her foot, I could tell that the shoe was one centimeter too small. I couldn't bear to jam it onto her like that. Oh she would have pretended that her tears were tears of joy but I would have known better. I just couldn't do it to her."
"So you handed the shoe to that Michael instead," Martin said.
"My friend Michael," I corrected him.
"Oh yes," Martin replied. I could tell his head was practically bulging with sarcasm now. "Your nice friend who stole the closest chance you'd ever had to happiness! Why did you do it, Jed?"
"I could tell that she liked him," I replied stiffly. "And I could tell that he liked her. I knew it wouldn't make much difference to her which prince she married, so I figured that two people may as well be happy because I knew that in my case we could not."
"Yes, yes, I know," Martin nodded, resigned. "But I don't think she got the real Prince Charming, in my opinion."
"Thank you, Martin," I still spoke stiffly, but I was really grateful for his regard. "But I know that you're a little biased."
Martin snorted. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
I nodded, and proceeded to enter the castle. Up and down the long passageways and great halls we traversed (rather, I traversed, Martin enjoyed the view from my pocket), brushing aside the many cobwebs that obstructed our path. I didn't even bother to use the sword on them, although I suspected that the "enchanted" sword would do an extra good job. It was beneath me and my sword to use it on cobwebs.
"I saw Katherine the other day," Martin remarked. He looked slyly up at me.
"Really, where?" I tried not to sound too eager.
"Out tending the goats."
I smacked my head. Of course, I should have checked the fields!
Katherine was the daughter of one my mother's former ladies in waiting. We had grown up playing together, but as we got older my mother had decided that it was unfit for me to associate with someone so far below my station, so she had removed Katherine from our royal presence. It wasn't until I was in the kitchen dutifully calling on a princess (my mother had persuaded her to disguise herself as a scullery maid--it was another of my mother's romantic schemes) that I discovered that Katherine was also employed as a scullery maid. The princess ended up marrying another prince (a friend of mine who was visiting at the time), but Katherine had disappeared. I had searched all the servant halls and even the village; I had even entreated my mother to let me see Katherine again, but all my efforts had proven fruitless.
I wrenched my mind to the task at hand. This had to be the room. We were in the tallest of towers, and I was quite sure the princess would not be in a dungeon. I reached the top of the stairs (I had scaled 123 of them mindlessly and effortlessly) and here was a door. I nodded at Martin, then pushed the door. It opened slowly with a shrill and ponderous creak.
Inside there was a bed, and on this bed lay a beautiful princess. I was hardly dumbfounded. Her golden curls (not nearly as long as Rapunzel's) were spread so as to delicately wreathe her pretty face, and her hands were gently clasped over her (her hands weren't as grasping as the princess who wanted to kiss a frog), and a trim little foot peaked out from under her full pink dress (the foot wasn't quite as small as Cinderella's). I would have thought she was dead except for the giggly snore that resounded all around her, as well as the faint trace of fresh drool that trickled from her rosebud lips.
"Well?" Martin asked.
"Well?" I pretended to look clueless.
"Well?" Martin was not famous for patience. "Aren't you going to kiss her?"
I involuntarily recoiled in horror. "Kiss . . . a beautiful maiden . . . invade her personal space without her permission . . . before we're even engaged?" I was incredulous to say the least. How could anyone expect this of me? The thought of kissing her was not quite so abhorrent to me personally (although I eyed the line of drool a little distastefully), but I couldn't imagine crushing this girl's poor innocence or going beyond the realm of propriety for her sake. Why, her reputation could be ruined by such a foolish action! I would just as soon destroy her virginity.
"Well, at the very least you could administer some CPR," Martin pointed out. "She looks like she could need it."
Sure enough, the snoring had ceased, and her frame lay very still with no gentle heaving. "You're right," I said. "It would be most inconsiderate to not help the poor girl when I know she's in distress." Glancing rapidly around the room (my eye took in the spindle and a bed of straw), I picked up a fat piece of straw and examined it. Having been assured that it was hollow, I carefully placed one end in the girl's mouth and gently closed her lips around it. Then I blew forcefully through the other end, administering CPR in such a decorous manner that I knew it could in nowise be offensive to any lady being treated by a strange man. I was only glad that I had brushed my teeth that morning.
Minutes later, the princess's breathing resumed and her eye lids fluttered open. Startled, she stared at me peering down at her at the other end of the straw. Then her eyes crossed as she took in the straw. I quickly removed it, and backed away to give her space, bowing slightly.
"Wha--" she looked very confused. "You were supposed to kiss me! Oh, this isn't the LEAST bit romantic!" And with that exclamation, she burst into tears.
****************************************************************
"I'm not happy, Prince Jedidiah," my mother informed me coldly. "Not happy."
"I'm very sorry about Princess Aurora, Mother," I said. "But I must tell you that I am very happy. Exceedingly happy. You see, Mother, I'm finally getting married."
The queen sat down abruptly in her chair, looking like she was about to choke. "And to what kingdom," she stammered as she regained her composure. "Does this princess belong?"
"To this kingdom, dear Mother."
She looked shocked, "Jedidiah, you know that marriage to one of your sisters is quite out of the question!"
"Of course I know that, Mother," I laughed, although I was very relieved. I'm sure if it hadn't been wrong both morally and legally my mother in desperation WOULD have made me marry one of my sisters. I love my sisters, but not in that sort of way. "No, and this lady isn't a princess yet."
"Not a princess?" Again, shock and horror.
"No, but she will be when I marry her," I stated.
"Oh," this had obviously never occurred to the queen before now. "And what, pray, were the circumstances of your engagement?"
"Quite romantic enough for everybody concerned, Mother," I assured her. "I proposed to her on the manure pile and after falling over and sliding down to her feet she said yes."
My mother fainted, but I decided not to be too concerned for her. I knew she would get over it.
You see, for the first time I realized that the kindest thing wasn't to keep on agreeing to these "bride schemes" of my mother's. Not only were they disappointing to everybody concerned whenever I failed their expectations, but I realized that even if I did succeed it would be discourteous to the princess I had won. Because, you see, my heart had long belonged to another, and to pretend otherwise would have been abominable behavior indeed. So I married Katherine, and the circumstances of our engagement were certainly romantic enough for both of us. Who needs to come up romantic circumstances when there's already romance between two people?
As Martin would say, "Quiddlyoomph."
"Quiddlyoomph," a miniature booming voice squeaked from my breast pocket. Please don't ask me how a voice can boom and squeak at the same time. If you knew my gecko friend, you would know.
I blinked in mild surprise at my pocket. "What did you say?" I asked.
"You heard me," was the terse answer. "Quiddlyoomph. It is my new expression to convey annoyance. Much more eloquent than 'humph,' I dare say." Martin, my friend and constant companion, blinked his beady eyes at me as if to say, "Just you try to argue with me." I didn't even want to try.
"Oh, very well, old chap," I replied. "'Quiddlyoomph' all you want, I suppose, though I must say it's a trifle distracting. I could have fallen over backward into that chasm I was just leaping over, just from the mere shock of the thing. I hope you weren't too badly jarred from the leap, old fellow."
Martin's black eyes looked like they went through a reverse clay baking process. That is, one moment they were hard and beady, the next they were moist lumps of clay. "Oh, if you must shake me up a bit in here in order to save lives, I suppose I can try not to complain. I'll limit myself to minor tits of 'quiddle'; now how does that sound?"
"Capital," I answered, and smiled. Now back to business. Casually I strode toward the ancient castle before me, whose broken bridge I had just leaped over. The whole premises was a perfect specimen of fossilized magnificence. If it weren't for the broken bridge, huge masses of overgrown brambles, and the faint sound of rusty chains grinding, I would have supposed the place was in its prime, not unlike my own castle, where I lived with my parents and twelve sisters.
I drew my sword (a hag had given it to me before coming here) and slashed easily through the brambles. The average branches were only six inches in diameter so I had no trouble.
"You know, you might be disappointing that hag by how easily you're cutting through those," Martin observed from my pocket. "She was quite convinced that these brambles would be impossible for you unless you wielded her magic sword. I'm afraid you're not allowing the magic enough time to kick in."
"Oh, sorry," I said, and paused my slicing. "Do you suppose I should wait a bit and do this more slowly? Would that be the kindest thing to do?"
Martin rolled his eyes. Don't ask me how one can tell that a gecko with no irises is rolling his eyes. Friends just have a sixth sense about these things.
"Don't bother," he said. "We may as well get on with it. The king and queen, in fact, the whole royal family is quite anxious that you don't blow it this time."
"I know," I replied, a little embarrassed. "I truly wish I could give everybody satisfaction, but you see it's rather difficult to do that and maintain my convictions of kindness and chivalry."
"I know, I know," Martin sighed. "But you don't have to be quite so concerned for the well-being of others. Like the time when the queen arranged it for you to be turned into a frog. Why, that maiden actually wanted to kiss you, and you had to spoil everything and run away from her!"
I was a little hurt. "I told her quite positively that she would get warts if she touched me, and it was only for fear of her own safety that I fled so I wouldn't have to inflict such a hardship on her."
"But then she chased you," Martin pointed out. "Didn't that kind of give you a hint that she actually didn't care if she got warts or not? And besides, frogs don't give warts. The myth is that toads do, so your excuses were extra erroneous."
"Oh," I said, a little crestfallen. How stupid I was! Perhaps I should have let the poor girl kiss me after all.
Martin chuckled, "I must say, however, that it was quite the amusing sight to see that prim and proper maiden chase you about the swamp through mud and slime. She was so determined to marry a prince!"
I smiled at the recollection. "Yes, that was kind of funny, wasn't it? And I rather enjoyed having such springy legs, enabling me to always be one hop out of her reach." I sobered a little. "But the queen was furious with me afterwards."
"She was," Martin agreed. "But then she always is. Especially after that whole situation with Rapunzel. That was really pathetic, you know, and especially embarrassing because Rodrigo, your old rival, ended up with the prize! Was climbing up the girl's hair really that hard to do?"
I was a little offended this time. "How could you say such a thing, Martin? Of course the actually climb would have been nothing, but when she offered me her tresses as a climbing device all I could think of was Sanders."
"Sanders?" Martin asked skeptically. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"Sanders, as you know, was my tutor. One of my more strict tutors," I grimaced. My scalp just tingled at the thought of him. "And he had a habit of pulling my hair, yes, and even dragging me by my hair, even insisting that I not walk so that it would hurt all the more."
"Oy, no wonder your father got rid of him," Martin winced sympathetically, which was quite remarkable considering the fact that he'd never had any hair in his life. I nodded. "But," Martin persisted, "what does Sanders have to do with Rapunzel?"
"Everything," I told him. "When her long hair hung down by me all I could think of was Sanders, and I couldn't imagine bestowing such excruciating pain on this fair damsel by hanging my whole weight on her lovely locks. I knew those locks were still attached to her scalp, you see."
"I never thought of that," Martin said quietly, apparently touched. "But how come she didn't appreciate your thoughtfulness?"
"Well, after working for two hours to climb up the face of the tower (there were hardly any footholds, you know, and what crevices there were never exceeded an inch in measurement), I finally arrived at Rapunzel's window. She was rather frightened when she first saw me, and then she grew very angry. 'What? You mean I've been waiting and growing my hair this long for nothing?' Then she pushed me out the window. I managed to scrabble at tiny nooks in the wall enough to break my fall so I wasn't too badly injured."
"You mean you only took two hours to climb up practically bare rock face? And then she was foolish enough to not see your heroism and shove you out the window? Quiddlyoomph! Sounds like she wasn't worth it anyway."
I shrugged and continued. "As I was surveying the damage done to my body (only a couple broken bones, nothing to be too concerned about), Rodrigo appeared. He would have liked to think that he appeared in magnificent splendor, but I knew he was just appearing so he could one up me. He had watched the whole episode, and so he came and asked Rapunzel to let down her golden hair. Down it came, up he went, and the rest is history."
"Good riddance," Martin snapped. "Sounds like they deserved each other."
I said nothing. I had allowed my sword strokes to slow down to let the magic kick in (the sword must have been magic because the weapon still sliced the thickest brambles even though I was only using an ounce of my strength), and now the path to the main gate of the castle was open. I stopped, taken aback, but then I realized that I shouldn't have been. Wasn't my mother always trying to come up with some extraordinary way for me to find a bride? And didn't I overhear her say that this castle was enchanted? Asleep, would have been the better term, for sitting a few paces in front of me were two guards in heavy slumber, leaning against their spears.
And then I knew what the noise I had been hearing was. What had at first sounded like rusty chains grinding was in fact the sound of snoring. Lots of snoring.
After trying to awaken the two guards, ("Dear sirs, you must awake!" "Open sesame, oh eyes!") I managed to open the heavy, half-rotten gates and the sound of snoring only heightened. It was not a continual sound, but a continual sporadic jumble, quite like the sound of popcorn popping. Only, as I walked into the courtyard, this popcorn was all around me as if I were in a surround-sound amphitheater of frogs. Here was a guard I had just passed, letting loose an ominous growl from deep within his barrel-like chest. Here was the high-pitched chortle of a stable boy who must have been crossing the yard on some errand. And there was the delicate, pinched snore of a scullery maid, or the faint sighs of a grand young lady leaning against the dilapidated steps of a carriage. Everywhere were people scattered here in there in noisy repose, dreaming dreams of thunderous splendor. Sometimes, by chance, certain snores came in unison, other times in harmony.
"Looks like we have a choir," Martin remarked dryly. "This might be your most interesting adventure yet. Let's go find the princess."
I gazed at my friend, not surprised by his attitude. A feeling of dread filled me. Did I really want to go through with this? A part of me so longed to do the right thing, to be accepted by my family and even a lovely girl, but I felt like I was going about it in the wrong way. Why did finding a bride have to be something wrapped up in glamor and excitement? Wouldn't it be just as romantic if I met an ordinary girl that I loved, asked her to marry me and she said yes? No bells or whistles?
"Martin, I have a feeling I'm going to mess up again," I told my friend. He looked sharply at me. I sighed. "But I do so want to do the right thing."
"You always do the right thing," my gecko friend's emphatic words pounded into my skull. This time I was astounded, and I searched his green little face for sarcasm but saw none. "Never mind the fact that you don't always do what pleases your bossy mother, or your father, for that matter. And forget your silly sisters. You've always done the most gracious and most right thing anybody could have thought of, unlike some princes I could name."
"Martin, I can take disparaging comments about Rodrigo, but if you're talking about Michael I won't have anything said maligning him," I said.
"Oh, I know you won't," Martin retorted, exasperated. "But you were so close, Jed! You had the glass slipper in your hand, you had the sweet little lady's trim foot in the other, and all you had to do was slip the thing on and ask her if she would marry you, but you didn't."
"I was thinking how uncomfortable a glass slipper must really be," I answered calmly. "I looked at it and saw that it was not shaped to fit the contour of one's foot, and judging by the size of the shoe and her foot, I could tell that the shoe was one centimeter too small. I couldn't bear to jam it onto her like that. Oh she would have pretended that her tears were tears of joy but I would have known better. I just couldn't do it to her."
"So you handed the shoe to that Michael instead," Martin said.
"My friend Michael," I corrected him.
"Oh yes," Martin replied. I could tell his head was practically bulging with sarcasm now. "Your nice friend who stole the closest chance you'd ever had to happiness! Why did you do it, Jed?"
"I could tell that she liked him," I replied stiffly. "And I could tell that he liked her. I knew it wouldn't make much difference to her which prince she married, so I figured that two people may as well be happy because I knew that in my case we could not."
"Yes, yes, I know," Martin nodded, resigned. "But I don't think she got the real Prince Charming, in my opinion."
"Thank you, Martin," I still spoke stiffly, but I was really grateful for his regard. "But I know that you're a little biased."
Martin snorted. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
I nodded, and proceeded to enter the castle. Up and down the long passageways and great halls we traversed (rather, I traversed, Martin enjoyed the view from my pocket), brushing aside the many cobwebs that obstructed our path. I didn't even bother to use the sword on them, although I suspected that the "enchanted" sword would do an extra good job. It was beneath me and my sword to use it on cobwebs.
"I saw Katherine the other day," Martin remarked. He looked slyly up at me.
"Really, where?" I tried not to sound too eager.
"Out tending the goats."
I smacked my head. Of course, I should have checked the fields!
Katherine was the daughter of one my mother's former ladies in waiting. We had grown up playing together, but as we got older my mother had decided that it was unfit for me to associate with someone so far below my station, so she had removed Katherine from our royal presence. It wasn't until I was in the kitchen dutifully calling on a princess (my mother had persuaded her to disguise herself as a scullery maid--it was another of my mother's romantic schemes) that I discovered that Katherine was also employed as a scullery maid. The princess ended up marrying another prince (a friend of mine who was visiting at the time), but Katherine had disappeared. I had searched all the servant halls and even the village; I had even entreated my mother to let me see Katherine again, but all my efforts had proven fruitless.
I wrenched my mind to the task at hand. This had to be the room. We were in the tallest of towers, and I was quite sure the princess would not be in a dungeon. I reached the top of the stairs (I had scaled 123 of them mindlessly and effortlessly) and here was a door. I nodded at Martin, then pushed the door. It opened slowly with a shrill and ponderous creak.
Inside there was a bed, and on this bed lay a beautiful princess. I was hardly dumbfounded. Her golden curls (not nearly as long as Rapunzel's) were spread so as to delicately wreathe her pretty face, and her hands were gently clasped over her (her hands weren't as grasping as the princess who wanted to kiss a frog), and a trim little foot peaked out from under her full pink dress (the foot wasn't quite as small as Cinderella's). I would have thought she was dead except for the giggly snore that resounded all around her, as well as the faint trace of fresh drool that trickled from her rosebud lips.
"Well?" Martin asked.
"Well?" I pretended to look clueless.
"Well?" Martin was not famous for patience. "Aren't you going to kiss her?"
I involuntarily recoiled in horror. "Kiss . . . a beautiful maiden . . . invade her personal space without her permission . . . before we're even engaged?" I was incredulous to say the least. How could anyone expect this of me? The thought of kissing her was not quite so abhorrent to me personally (although I eyed the line of drool a little distastefully), but I couldn't imagine crushing this girl's poor innocence or going beyond the realm of propriety for her sake. Why, her reputation could be ruined by such a foolish action! I would just as soon destroy her virginity.
"Well, at the very least you could administer some CPR," Martin pointed out. "She looks like she could need it."
Sure enough, the snoring had ceased, and her frame lay very still with no gentle heaving. "You're right," I said. "It would be most inconsiderate to not help the poor girl when I know she's in distress." Glancing rapidly around the room (my eye took in the spindle and a bed of straw), I picked up a fat piece of straw and examined it. Having been assured that it was hollow, I carefully placed one end in the girl's mouth and gently closed her lips around it. Then I blew forcefully through the other end, administering CPR in such a decorous manner that I knew it could in nowise be offensive to any lady being treated by a strange man. I was only glad that I had brushed my teeth that morning.
Minutes later, the princess's breathing resumed and her eye lids fluttered open. Startled, she stared at me peering down at her at the other end of the straw. Then her eyes crossed as she took in the straw. I quickly removed it, and backed away to give her space, bowing slightly.
"Wha--" she looked very confused. "You were supposed to kiss me! Oh, this isn't the LEAST bit romantic!" And with that exclamation, she burst into tears.
****************************************************************
"I'm not happy, Prince Jedidiah," my mother informed me coldly. "Not happy."
"I'm very sorry about Princess Aurora, Mother," I said. "But I must tell you that I am very happy. Exceedingly happy. You see, Mother, I'm finally getting married."
The queen sat down abruptly in her chair, looking like she was about to choke. "And to what kingdom," she stammered as she regained her composure. "Does this princess belong?"
"To this kingdom, dear Mother."
She looked shocked, "Jedidiah, you know that marriage to one of your sisters is quite out of the question!"
"Of course I know that, Mother," I laughed, although I was very relieved. I'm sure if it hadn't been wrong both morally and legally my mother in desperation WOULD have made me marry one of my sisters. I love my sisters, but not in that sort of way. "No, and this lady isn't a princess yet."
"Not a princess?" Again, shock and horror.
"No, but she will be when I marry her," I stated.
"Oh," this had obviously never occurred to the queen before now. "And what, pray, were the circumstances of your engagement?"
"Quite romantic enough for everybody concerned, Mother," I assured her. "I proposed to her on the manure pile and after falling over and sliding down to her feet she said yes."
My mother fainted, but I decided not to be too concerned for her. I knew she would get over it.
You see, for the first time I realized that the kindest thing wasn't to keep on agreeing to these "bride schemes" of my mother's. Not only were they disappointing to everybody concerned whenever I failed their expectations, but I realized that even if I did succeed it would be discourteous to the princess I had won. Because, you see, my heart had long belonged to another, and to pretend otherwise would have been abominable behavior indeed. So I married Katherine, and the circumstances of our engagement were certainly romantic enough for both of us. Who needs to come up romantic circumstances when there's already romance between two people?
As Martin would say, "Quiddlyoomph."
Vacation updates
New status updates:
Kayla just finished a peach smoothie expertly concocted by her brother.
Kayla is kept laughing whenever she watches her parents regularly tease each other. Vacation is never boring.
Kayla has been inhaling tales of The Mysterious Benedict Society.
Kayla is happy that Craig came on vacation too.
Kayla just finished a peach smoothie expertly concocted by her brother.
Kayla is kept laughing whenever she watches her parents regularly tease each other. Vacation is never boring.
Kayla has been inhaling tales of The Mysterious Benedict Society.
Kayla is happy that Craig came on vacation too.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sermons in bite-sized pieces
Through the course of the past year or so, I had occasion to come across several quotes that I've written down for my (and your) interest and edification.
Be still and know
Be still, let go
Be still and know
That I am God.
Be still, let go
Be still and know
That I am God.
Oh what I would do to have
The kind of faith it takes to climb out this boat I'm in
Onto the crashing waves
To step out of my comfort zone
Into the realm of the unknown
Where Jesus is
And He's holding out His hand
But the waves are calling out my name
And they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed
The waves, they keep telling me
Time and time again
"Boy, you'll never win. You'll never win!"
But the Voice of Truth
Tells me a different story
The Voice of Truth
Says, "Do not be afraid."
And the Voice of Truth
Says, "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe
The Voice of Truth.
(I find that very encouraging as I gear up to be a counselor for my first time in a couple of weeks!)
"If you have given your heart to Jesus, Jesus has already given Himself to you."
--Max Lucado
"Wear the mask until you become conformed to it."
--C. S. Lewis
"Your time with God should last long enough for you to say what you want and for God to say what He wants."
--Max Lucado, Just Like Jesus
"Obedience is the doorway into joy."
--TFM
"I will serve Thee because I love Thee."
"I need no other sunshine than the sunshine of Thy face."
"We can enter into the holiest and find ourselves, not smitten down, but at home."
--TFM
"What you say 'wow' about is a form of worship."
--NRS
"Every time we claim victory, it drive the Truth in deeper."
--Dan M.
"We should become what we are."
--John Piper
"The key to changing the world is having Christians in joint with God."
--NRS
"God uses unexpected people to use unexpected tools to see His work done."
--NRS
"We may not have the opportunity to die for Christ, but we have the opportunity to live for Christ." --Ben H.
"When we look on and see what Jesus has done for us, there's no way we can be apathetic."
--Clyde S.
"Beholding the face of God is not a future hope, it's a present reality."
--Dan P.
"There's a battle out there, but sometimes the battle is just to see that there's a battle."
--Dennis P.
"Pressing on with zeal to be a living sacrifice to Thee."
"The glory of God is man fully alive."
--Saint Irenaeus
"We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us . . ."
--Nelson Mandela
"It is the image of God reflected in you that so enrages hell; it is this at which the demons hurl their mightiest weapons."
--William Gurnall
"If it doesn't bring freedom and it doesn't bring life, it's not Christianity. If it doesn't restore the image of God and rejoice in the heart, it's not Christianity."
--John Eldrige, Waking the Dead (the three previous quotes were in his book as well)
"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?"
--C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces
Thou art a sea without a shore;
Awful, immense Thou art,
A sea which can contract itself
Within my narrow heart.
--Faber
"When faith becomes obedience then it is true faith indeed."
--A.W. Tozer
"It had opened her eyes to the fact that right down in the depths of her own heart she really had but one passionate desire, not for the things which the Shepherd had promised, but for Himself. All she wanted was to be allowed to follow Him forever. Other desires might clamor strongly and fiercely nearer the surface of her nature, but she knew now that down in the core of her own being she was so shaped that nothing could fit, fill, or satisfy her heart but He Himself."
--Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places
"When people worship anyone or anything besides Him, they become like it. God has better intentions for His people."
--Steven C. Hawthorne, The Story of His Glory
"By wooing people into true worship, God is able to fully bestow His love upon them."
--Steven C. Hawthorne, The Story of His Glory
". . . the ultimate value of their salvation is not what they are saved from, but what they are saved for that really matters."
--Hawthorne
"God is not just loving people. He is transforming them to become people who can fully love Him." --Hawthorne
"Human enthusiasm cannot sustain apostolic passion."
--Floyd McClung, Apostolic Passion
"If you have apostolic passion, you are one of the most dangerous people on the planet. The world no longer rules your heart . . . The Father's passions have become your passions. You find your satisfaction and significance in Him . . . You are sold out to God, and you live for the Lamb."
--Floyd McClung, Apostolic Passion
"Great victory has never been possible without great sacrifice."
--Sameul Zwemer, The Glory of the Impossible
"Do not pray for easy lives; pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be a miracle."
--Bishop Phillips Brooks (?)
"There is no instance of an Apostle being driven abroad under the compulsion of a bald command. Each one went as a lover to his betrothed on his appointed errand."
--Samuel Zwemer, The Glory of the Impossible
"Look at yourself, and you are horrified,
Look at Him, and your are glorified."
--quoted in class by Dan M., but I don't know if he came up with it or someone else did.
"The Bride lets God define beauty."
--Dan M.
"To be a witness does not consist in engaging propaganda, not even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one's life would not make sense if God did not exist."
--Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water
"Oh boy! I'm going to devour more of God's Word!"
--TFM's interpretation of Jeremiah's attitude in Jer. 15:16
"The steadfast love of Jehovah never ceases; His mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."
Lam. 3 something
"God loves the stupid woman."
--TFM
"When you stand your ground, the devil loses his."
"One thing is needful."
"Cling to the heart of God, even when His ways don't make sense."
--Dan M.
"The good is the enemy of the best."
--NRS
"If the Enemy reminds you of your past, you remind him of his future."
"He is good. I am His."
"Faith that is sure of itself is not faith; faith that is sure of God is the only faith there is."
--Oswald Chambers
"God used the worst act ever committed by wicked men to accomplish the greatest good the world has ever known."
--Dan M. (he could have been quoting; my notes weren't clear)
"Faith steps out into the seeming void and finds the Rock beneath."
"Because her identification was embodied not in who she was but in who her bridegroom was--her beauty was reflected beauty."
--Jerry Benjamin, Who Has the Right to Rule?
"Religious contentment is the enemy of the spiritual life always."
--A.W. Tozer, God's Pursuit of Man
"Resisting worldliness is absolutely vital but not ultimately significant. Jesus Christ is most important. We must fight worldliness because it dulls our affections for Christ and distracts our attention from Christ. Worldliness is so serious because Christ is so glorious."
--C.J. Mahaney, Worldliness
The kind of faith it takes to climb out this boat I'm in
Onto the crashing waves
To step out of my comfort zone
Into the realm of the unknown
Where Jesus is
And He's holding out His hand
But the waves are calling out my name
And they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed
The waves, they keep telling me
Time and time again
"Boy, you'll never win. You'll never win!"
But the Voice of Truth
Tells me a different story
The Voice of Truth
Says, "Do not be afraid."
And the Voice of Truth
Says, "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe
The Voice of Truth.
(I find that very encouraging as I gear up to be a counselor for my first time in a couple of weeks!)
"If you have given your heart to Jesus, Jesus has already given Himself to you."
--Max Lucado
"Wear the mask until you become conformed to it."
--C. S. Lewis
"Your time with God should last long enough for you to say what you want and for God to say what He wants."
--Max Lucado, Just Like Jesus
"Obedience is the doorway into joy."
--TFM
"I will serve Thee because I love Thee."
"I need no other sunshine than the sunshine of Thy face."
"We can enter into the holiest and find ourselves, not smitten down, but at home."
--TFM
"What you say 'wow' about is a form of worship."
--NRS
"Every time we claim victory, it drive the Truth in deeper."
--Dan M.
"We should become what we are."
--John Piper
"The key to changing the world is having Christians in joint with God."
--NRS
"God uses unexpected people to use unexpected tools to see His work done."
--NRS
"We may not have the opportunity to die for Christ, but we have the opportunity to live for Christ." --Ben H.
"When we look on and see what Jesus has done for us, there's no way we can be apathetic."
--Clyde S.
"Beholding the face of God is not a future hope, it's a present reality."
--Dan P.
"There's a battle out there, but sometimes the battle is just to see that there's a battle."
--Dennis P.
"Pressing on with zeal to be a living sacrifice to Thee."
"The glory of God is man fully alive."
--Saint Irenaeus
"We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us . . ."
--Nelson Mandela
"It is the image of God reflected in you that so enrages hell; it is this at which the demons hurl their mightiest weapons."
--William Gurnall
"If it doesn't bring freedom and it doesn't bring life, it's not Christianity. If it doesn't restore the image of God and rejoice in the heart, it's not Christianity."
--John Eldrige, Waking the Dead (the three previous quotes were in his book as well)
"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?"
--C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces
Thou art a sea without a shore;
Awful, immense Thou art,
A sea which can contract itself
Within my narrow heart.
--Faber
"When faith becomes obedience then it is true faith indeed."
--A.W. Tozer
"It had opened her eyes to the fact that right down in the depths of her own heart she really had but one passionate desire, not for the things which the Shepherd had promised, but for Himself. All she wanted was to be allowed to follow Him forever. Other desires might clamor strongly and fiercely nearer the surface of her nature, but she knew now that down in the core of her own being she was so shaped that nothing could fit, fill, or satisfy her heart but He Himself."
--Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places
"When people worship anyone or anything besides Him, they become like it. God has better intentions for His people."
--Steven C. Hawthorne, The Story of His Glory
"By wooing people into true worship, God is able to fully bestow His love upon them."
--Steven C. Hawthorne, The Story of His Glory
". . . the ultimate value of their salvation is not what they are saved from, but what they are saved for that really matters."
--Hawthorne
"God is not just loving people. He is transforming them to become people who can fully love Him." --Hawthorne
"Human enthusiasm cannot sustain apostolic passion."
--Floyd McClung, Apostolic Passion
"If you have apostolic passion, you are one of the most dangerous people on the planet. The world no longer rules your heart . . . The Father's passions have become your passions. You find your satisfaction and significance in Him . . . You are sold out to God, and you live for the Lamb."
--Floyd McClung, Apostolic Passion
"Great victory has never been possible without great sacrifice."
--Sameul Zwemer, The Glory of the Impossible
"Do not pray for easy lives; pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be a miracle."
--Bishop Phillips Brooks (?)
"There is no instance of an Apostle being driven abroad under the compulsion of a bald command. Each one went as a lover to his betrothed on his appointed errand."
--Samuel Zwemer, The Glory of the Impossible
"Look at yourself, and you are horrified,
Look at Him, and your are glorified."
--quoted in class by Dan M., but I don't know if he came up with it or someone else did.
"The Bride lets God define beauty."
--Dan M.
"To be a witness does not consist in engaging propaganda, not even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one's life would not make sense if God did not exist."
--Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water
"Oh boy! I'm going to devour more of God's Word!"
--TFM's interpretation of Jeremiah's attitude in Jer. 15:16
"The steadfast love of Jehovah never ceases; His mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."
Lam. 3 something
"God loves the stupid woman."
--TFM
"When you stand your ground, the devil loses his."
"One thing is needful."
"Cling to the heart of God, even when His ways don't make sense."
--Dan M.
"The good is the enemy of the best."
--NRS
"If the Enemy reminds you of your past, you remind him of his future."
"He is good. I am His."
"Faith that is sure of itself is not faith; faith that is sure of God is the only faith there is."
--Oswald Chambers
"God used the worst act ever committed by wicked men to accomplish the greatest good the world has ever known."
--Dan M. (he could have been quoting; my notes weren't clear)
"Faith steps out into the seeming void and finds the Rock beneath."
"Because her identification was embodied not in who she was but in who her bridegroom was--her beauty was reflected beauty."
--Jerry Benjamin, Who Has the Right to Rule?
"Religious contentment is the enemy of the spiritual life always."
--A.W. Tozer, God's Pursuit of Man
"Resisting worldliness is absolutely vital but not ultimately significant. Jesus Christ is most important. We must fight worldliness because it dulls our affections for Christ and distracts our attention from Christ. Worldliness is so serious because Christ is so glorious."
--C.J. Mahaney, Worldliness
Some of that stuff is going to be written on stickies and placed around my bedroom. :) I hope you found as much encouragement from these statements as I did!
Monday, July 12, 2010
A summer report
The idea has fomented in the old melon that perhaps there's a poor soul out in the wasteland that is simply dying for a drop of solid gold news as to what this gal is doing this summer. Well, I'll tell you a thing or two, though I'm not inclined to go into detail. Besides trotting about places like Georgia and Maine as well as soaking in a few days of solitary vacation, this body has so far been sporadically dedicated to completing her summer work, more or less. And, I'm happy to announce, that as of last Friday night I have successfully completed this year's summer work duty!
My final week of summer work, however, was not just any week of summer work. It was my first experience of actually working during the Family Convention. What joys of mixed pleasure and stress! My physical work was extremely minimal, but my mental work was fairly considerable. One day I'm at my wits' end and have no idea what I'm doing, and two days later I'm feeling almost guilty for having so few responsibilities. You see, I had the privilege of leading the youth in their drama activity, and although I was greatly blessed with the assistance and moral support of the expert Aunt Sharon, the responsibility and overall ideas and direction lay on my shoulders.
The first day wasn't so bad. I had decided that I didn't want to take the "throw a huge script at you" approach but wanted to do drama with a more laid-back, "let's ad-lib, have fun, and do some REAL acting" approach. So, to prepare my actors, I decided to hone their creativity skills by playing some acting games that required lots of ad-libbing. This seemed to go well, but as the games wound to a halt I realized with horror that I still had no idea what we were going to do next. I had hoped that some inspiration would fall from the sky as they worked out their own little skits, but none came plopping down on me. Unless my thick skull was too impenetrable to see them. Not quite sure what to do next, I let them play a certain game that they had liked again and then dismissed them.
Now what?
About half a dozen ideas were swimming around in my head, but none of them seemed to click. This sounded too dumb, that sounded too complicated, etc, etc. I sat down after dinner with a couple of the older guys (Ryan and Daniel, plus David since he happened to be around anyway) and bounced my ideas off of them to see what they thought. They were relatively neutral, but pretty supportive.
"Which idea do you like best?" my cousin Ryan asked me. Surprised, I mentioned one or two of the ideas that seemed more appealing. The basic gist of what he conveyed to me next was that I was the leader and he'd be happy to do whatever I wanted them to, and he was sure that whatever they did would turn out to be funny either way. Wow, talk about loyalty . . . or something. Perhaps what I was most concerned about was coming up with something that they didn't hate acting out, and his assurances pretty much dissuaded my fears.
But that still left me without a clue.
So I decided to go to the youth meeting. I had a lot of work to do to figure out what I was doing, and I was even on breakfast the next morning, but I decided that being supportive was worth it . . . especially since I was misinformed so that I thought that my brother was having the meeting, when he wasn't (it took me about a third of the meeting to be convinced of that though). As it turned out, going to that meeting was just what I needed. In the course of the meeting a certain point was brought out: It's not enough to say that you want God. Our wants can change. We have to come to the point where we can say that we need God.
That hit home for me. And it was a grand slam. Not only could I think of ways that this applied to my life in general, but I could very specifically relate that message to the whole drama activity situation. I decided that I needed to pray more seriously about it. Of course I had prayed about it already . . . I certainly wanted God and His blessing on drama so that it would go well, but I still felt like the ideas had to come from me. That wasn't working so well, and I was faced with a certain realization: I needed God.
As I realized how desperately I actually needed God and His help, I found myself turning to Him. And as I found myself turning to Him and seeking Him, a certain phrase came to me from Acts, one that had been quoted in meeting from that morning, "What I do have I give to you." I started thinking about the drama practice from that day. I recalled the games that we had played, certain characters that had been acted well, and certain quotes that were memorable. Ruth had made a first-rate snobby opera singer. How would she do if she were a haughty queen? Timothy had made a classic picture of a dad that kept on insisting that his embarrassed son (aka Ryan) "Had no idea what he was dealing with." Alex had looked like a cool, shady character with those sunglasses on . . . and his emphatic, "Thou shalt not kill," could be very amusing if used repeatedly. What if he were a Secret Service type guy who never spoke unless to utter one of the Ten Commandments? David had made a remarkably great weepy toddler, and his "I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request" could be hilarious coming from a little kid. I scribbled down a few ideas, then went to bed, staying awake quite awhile as ideas rushed in. A skit idea had been born.
So yes. The long and the short of it is that my seven-person drama team put on fairly modern version of the story of David (or "Dave," who plays the ukulele and slew the giant robots with his nerf gun) as he met Queen Saulette, fought hard side-by-side with his best friends Jonathan and Hushai, and eventually was chased away by the Queen when she tried to "sic" her pet monkey on him. The final scene was one that was used in the family devotions that week, when David had to demonstrate self-control by not killing Saul. And believe it or not, we packed in the Fruit of the Spirit (which was the theme of the week) and slow-motion battle scenes to the music of Pirates of the Caribbean (one of my favorite ideas) in there as well. I think God truly blessed it, not just because we wanted Him, but because we needed Him.
Now the Convention is over and I'm taking "a breather." What more awaits me this summer? Well, it looks like next month I'm going to be a counselor for a two week teen camp on the other side of the mountain. Now that I finally know that I was accepted I'm a little scared, but I think it will be a splendid opportunity to rely on the Holy Spirit and grow in my relationship with Him as I make new friends in totally new Christian circles.
Other than that, my options are somewhat up in the air. At this point I'm planning on starting into my summer work for next year, so that could occupy quite some time (up to four weeks even, if I do that much). Besides that, my dad and I have been exploring other educational opportunities, like taking a TESL course to prepare me for future short-term missions possibilities, and maybe taking a desk-top publishing course to assist with our church's magazine, Times of Restoration, since Kendra who is currently in charge of production is planning on going overseas for at least a year. But who knows? My summer could still hold very different things.
My final week of summer work, however, was not just any week of summer work. It was my first experience of actually working during the Family Convention. What joys of mixed pleasure and stress! My physical work was extremely minimal, but my mental work was fairly considerable. One day I'm at my wits' end and have no idea what I'm doing, and two days later I'm feeling almost guilty for having so few responsibilities. You see, I had the privilege of leading the youth in their drama activity, and although I was greatly blessed with the assistance and moral support of the expert Aunt Sharon, the responsibility and overall ideas and direction lay on my shoulders.
The first day wasn't so bad. I had decided that I didn't want to take the "throw a huge script at you" approach but wanted to do drama with a more laid-back, "let's ad-lib, have fun, and do some REAL acting" approach. So, to prepare my actors, I decided to hone their creativity skills by playing some acting games that required lots of ad-libbing. This seemed to go well, but as the games wound to a halt I realized with horror that I still had no idea what we were going to do next. I had hoped that some inspiration would fall from the sky as they worked out their own little skits, but none came plopping down on me. Unless my thick skull was too impenetrable to see them. Not quite sure what to do next, I let them play a certain game that they had liked again and then dismissed them.
Now what?
About half a dozen ideas were swimming around in my head, but none of them seemed to click. This sounded too dumb, that sounded too complicated, etc, etc. I sat down after dinner with a couple of the older guys (Ryan and Daniel, plus David since he happened to be around anyway) and bounced my ideas off of them to see what they thought. They were relatively neutral, but pretty supportive.
"Which idea do you like best?" my cousin Ryan asked me. Surprised, I mentioned one or two of the ideas that seemed more appealing. The basic gist of what he conveyed to me next was that I was the leader and he'd be happy to do whatever I wanted them to, and he was sure that whatever they did would turn out to be funny either way. Wow, talk about loyalty . . . or something. Perhaps what I was most concerned about was coming up with something that they didn't hate acting out, and his assurances pretty much dissuaded my fears.
But that still left me without a clue.
So I decided to go to the youth meeting. I had a lot of work to do to figure out what I was doing, and I was even on breakfast the next morning, but I decided that being supportive was worth it . . . especially since I was misinformed so that I thought that my brother was having the meeting, when he wasn't (it took me about a third of the meeting to be convinced of that though). As it turned out, going to that meeting was just what I needed. In the course of the meeting a certain point was brought out: It's not enough to say that you want God. Our wants can change. We have to come to the point where we can say that we need God.
That hit home for me. And it was a grand slam. Not only could I think of ways that this applied to my life in general, but I could very specifically relate that message to the whole drama activity situation. I decided that I needed to pray more seriously about it. Of course I had prayed about it already . . . I certainly wanted God and His blessing on drama so that it would go well, but I still felt like the ideas had to come from me. That wasn't working so well, and I was faced with a certain realization: I needed God.
As I realized how desperately I actually needed God and His help, I found myself turning to Him. And as I found myself turning to Him and seeking Him, a certain phrase came to me from Acts, one that had been quoted in meeting from that morning, "What I do have I give to you." I started thinking about the drama practice from that day. I recalled the games that we had played, certain characters that had been acted well, and certain quotes that were memorable. Ruth had made a first-rate snobby opera singer. How would she do if she were a haughty queen? Timothy had made a classic picture of a dad that kept on insisting that his embarrassed son (aka Ryan) "Had no idea what he was dealing with." Alex had looked like a cool, shady character with those sunglasses on . . . and his emphatic, "Thou shalt not kill," could be very amusing if used repeatedly. What if he were a Secret Service type guy who never spoke unless to utter one of the Ten Commandments? David had made a remarkably great weepy toddler, and his "I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request" could be hilarious coming from a little kid. I scribbled down a few ideas, then went to bed, staying awake quite awhile as ideas rushed in. A skit idea had been born.
So yes. The long and the short of it is that my seven-person drama team put on fairly modern version of the story of David (or "Dave," who plays the ukulele and slew the giant robots with his nerf gun) as he met Queen Saulette, fought hard side-by-side with his best friends Jonathan and Hushai, and eventually was chased away by the Queen when she tried to "sic" her pet monkey on him. The final scene was one that was used in the family devotions that week, when David had to demonstrate self-control by not killing Saul. And believe it or not, we packed in the Fruit of the Spirit (which was the theme of the week) and slow-motion battle scenes to the music of Pirates of the Caribbean (one of my favorite ideas) in there as well. I think God truly blessed it, not just because we wanted Him, but because we needed Him.
Now the Convention is over and I'm taking "a breather." What more awaits me this summer? Well, it looks like next month I'm going to be a counselor for a two week teen camp on the other side of the mountain. Now that I finally know that I was accepted I'm a little scared, but I think it will be a splendid opportunity to rely on the Holy Spirit and grow in my relationship with Him as I make new friends in totally new Christian circles.
Other than that, my options are somewhat up in the air. At this point I'm planning on starting into my summer work for next year, so that could occupy quite some time (up to four weeks even, if I do that much). Besides that, my dad and I have been exploring other educational opportunities, like taking a TESL course to prepare me for future short-term missions possibilities, and maybe taking a desk-top publishing course to assist with our church's magazine, Times of Restoration, since Kendra who is currently in charge of production is planning on going overseas for at least a year. But who knows? My summer could still hold very different things.
Outside the Camp
Latest (so far) unposted status updates:
"Kayla is fiddling around."
"Late evening conversations with siblings are the best."
And now here's a poem that Uncle Tim gave us in class. I've found much encouragement from it, and maybe you will too.
"Kayla is fiddling around."
"Late evening conversations with siblings are the best."
And now here's a poem that Uncle Tim gave us in class. I've found much encouragement from it, and maybe you will too.
The Young Christian
I cannot give it up
The little world I know--
The innocent delights of youth,
The things I cherish so!
'Tis true, I love my Lord,
And long to do His will;
But oh, I may enjoy the world
And be a Christian still!
I love the hour of prayer,
I love the hymns of praise,
I love the blessed Word which tells
Of God's redeeming grace.
But--I am human still!
And while I dwell on earth,
God surely will not grudge the hours
I spend in harmless mirth!
These things belong to youth,
And are its natural right--
My dress, my pastimes and my friends,
The merry and the bright.
My Father's heart is kind!
He will not count it ill
That my small corner of the world
Should please and hold me still.
And yet--"outside the camp"--
'Twas there my Saviour died!
It was the world that cast Him forth
And saw Him crucified.
Can I take part with those
Who nailed Him to the tree?
And where His Name is never praised,
Is that the place for me?
Nay, world! I turn away,
Though thou seem fair and good;
That friendly outstretched hand of thine
Is stained with Jesus' blood.
If in thy lease device
I stoop to take a part,
All unaware, thine influence steals
God's presence from my heart.
I miss my Saviour's smile,
Whene'er I walk thy ways;
Thy laughter drowns the Spirit's voice,
And chokes the springs of praise.
Whene'er I turn aside
To join thee for and hour,
The face of Christ grows blurred and dim,
And prayer has lost its power!
Farewell--Henceforth my place
Is with the Lamb who died.
My Sovereign! While I have Thy love,
What can I want beside?
Thyself, blest Lord, art now
My free and loving choice,
In whom, though now I see Thee nought,
Believing, I rejoice.
Shame on me that I sought
Another joy than this,
Or dreamed a heart at rest with Thee
Could crave for earthly bliss!
These vain and worthless things,
I put them all aside:
His goodness fills my longing soul,
And I am satisfied.
Lord Jesus! Let me dwell
"Ouside the camp" with Thee!
Since Thou art there, then there alone,
Is peace and rest for me.
Thy dear reproach to bear
I'll count my highest gain,
Till Thou return, Rejected On,
To take Thy power, and reign!
--Margaret Mauro (aged 22)
"Let us go forth therefore unto Him without the camp, bearing His reproach."
Hebrews 13:13
I cannot give it up
The little world I know--
The innocent delights of youth,
The things I cherish so!
'Tis true, I love my Lord,
And long to do His will;
But oh, I may enjoy the world
And be a Christian still!
I love the hour of prayer,
I love the hymns of praise,
I love the blessed Word which tells
Of God's redeeming grace.
But--I am human still!
And while I dwell on earth,
God surely will not grudge the hours
I spend in harmless mirth!
These things belong to youth,
And are its natural right--
My dress, my pastimes and my friends,
The merry and the bright.
My Father's heart is kind!
He will not count it ill
That my small corner of the world
Should please and hold me still.
And yet--"outside the camp"--
'Twas there my Saviour died!
It was the world that cast Him forth
And saw Him crucified.
Can I take part with those
Who nailed Him to the tree?
And where His Name is never praised,
Is that the place for me?
Nay, world! I turn away,
Though thou seem fair and good;
That friendly outstretched hand of thine
Is stained with Jesus' blood.
If in thy lease device
I stoop to take a part,
All unaware, thine influence steals
God's presence from my heart.
I miss my Saviour's smile,
Whene'er I walk thy ways;
Thy laughter drowns the Spirit's voice,
And chokes the springs of praise.
Whene'er I turn aside
To join thee for and hour,
The face of Christ grows blurred and dim,
And prayer has lost its power!
Farewell--Henceforth my place
Is with the Lamb who died.
My Sovereign! While I have Thy love,
What can I want beside?
Thyself, blest Lord, art now
My free and loving choice,
In whom, though now I see Thee nought,
Believing, I rejoice.
Shame on me that I sought
Another joy than this,
Or dreamed a heart at rest with Thee
Could crave for earthly bliss!
These vain and worthless things,
I put them all aside:
His goodness fills my longing soul,
And I am satisfied.
Lord Jesus! Let me dwell
"Ouside the camp" with Thee!
Since Thou art there, then there alone,
Is peace and rest for me.
Thy dear reproach to bear
I'll count my highest gain,
Till Thou return, Rejected On,
To take Thy power, and reign!
--Margaret Mauro (aged 22)
"Let us go forth therefore unto Him without the camp, bearing His reproach."
Hebrews 13:13
I've found this poem helpful when I find myself distracted from true reality and am caught up in the pleasures of this world. But even more I've found certain phrases to be just what I need when I'm longing for something more that I can't even quite name:
"My Sovereign--while I have Thy love, What can I want beside?"
"His goodness fills my longing soul, And I am satisfied."
Perhaps what I'm actually longing for is right where I left it. And He's just waiting for me to realize it.
"My Sovereign--while I have Thy love, What can I want beside?"
"His goodness fills my longing soul, And I am satisfied."
Perhaps what I'm actually longing for is right where I left it. And He's just waiting for me to realize it.
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