Laughing at myself is what I am doing right now. Just laughing. Here I am, just three days away from the end of break, and I feel more exhausted than I've felt in a long time. I haven't had an uber busy semester or anything, it's just that there's a huge difference between having a full or semi-full schedule and having absolutely nil to do except talk to friends about nothing. If you are or ever have been a teenager, then you should understand what I'm talking about. The thing is, this break I've only slept in once (I've been making money and doing other fun stuff, so don't you think I'm complaining, Blog World) and haven't had any nothing-time here at home. This is because whenever I sit down or plan on laying in bed for a while, a stupidly wonderful artsy fartastic idea pops into my head and I have to get up and do something about it. Like, seriously, every time I sit down it's like....inspiration! EVERY TIME. I love it, really. love love love. My life laughs in my face though, of that I am sure. After two weeks of this mad writing/scribbling, and painting/collage-ing (?) I am pooped. Here's the funny part of today...I just started another painting. Laugh away. I sure am.
On a different note, I am trying to convince myself that New Year's Eve is tomorrow, and 2011 is the day after tomorrow. It hasn't fully dawned on me yet........
Lydia
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
A lady who I met at my church passed away last night (or this morning, I'm not sure), and I just feel led to write something about her. Not because I want her to be remembered-people like her are not quickly forgotten-but because I like the idea of her looking down from Heaven (as if!) and knowing that I enjoyed our conversations, few as they were.
Her name was Betty, and there is no other word I can think of with which to describe her than spunky. She was uber spunky, and a fighter-I could tell. She came to church every (I do mean every) Sunday, but always left early because she had to be home to take care of her husband. She told me once that she had been in the Navy. I think she was a nurse. She tried to convince me that Navy is better than Army. Particularly the food. She also told me that she and her husband used to raise horses at a farm that I pass on my way home nearly every day. How cool is that? I love that place! There's like five PERFECT fields. sigh. Perfect, I say: grassy, and beautiful.
There you are. That's about all I know about her, but I'm glad I talked to her, and I'm happy that she's with Christ now, as sad as it is to feel her death.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Lydia
Her name was Betty, and there is no other word I can think of with which to describe her than spunky. She was uber spunky, and a fighter-I could tell. She came to church every (I do mean every) Sunday, but always left early because she had to be home to take care of her husband. She told me once that she had been in the Navy. I think she was a nurse. She tried to convince me that Navy is better than Army. Particularly the food. She also told me that she and her husband used to raise horses at a farm that I pass on my way home nearly every day. How cool is that? I love that place! There's like five PERFECT fields. sigh. Perfect, I say: grassy, and beautiful.
There you are. That's about all I know about her, but I'm glad I talked to her, and I'm happy that she's with Christ now, as sad as it is to feel her death.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Lydia
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Merry Christmas!
My prayers go up for the broken-hearted, the weary, the destitute. For those who suffer, may they be comforted even more so on this day. May these, God's children, be shown the enduring love and favor of our Lord.
Thank you Lord, for sending Your son to this our home. Our Savior is Born.
Brianna
My prayers go up for the broken-hearted, the weary, the destitute. For those who suffer, may they be comforted even more so on this day. May these, God's children, be shown the enduring love and favor of our Lord.
Thank you Lord, for sending Your son to this our home. Our Savior is Born.
Brianna
Here's just a few of my awesometastic Christmas gifts! I'd have to say that the honorable mention is A BRETT DENNEN CD!! but I got that before Christmas.God be with the children who don't get gifts for Christmas. May He give them (as He has given me) food, clothing, and eternal life. Hallelujah!
Lydia
Thursday, December 23, 2010
One of the joys of Christmas, for me, is making pierogi. This year we made our normal two batches. One is cheese, and one is a saurerkraut mushroom mixture. The only difference among this year and all the previous years, is that this year one batch was made by my mother and me. The second batch was made tonight (first difference), and it was my dad and me who made this batch.
I am so thankful for our Christmas Eve tradition of eating a Polish dinner. It's a celebration of my father's heritage...a tradition that I very much enjoy. It is most definately Christmas time.
Brianna
I am so thankful for our Christmas Eve tradition of eating a Polish dinner. It's a celebration of my father's heritage...a tradition that I very much enjoy. It is most definately Christmas time.
Brianna
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Even in the midst of unwrapping, wrapping presents, and thinking about how blessed we are, there is pain. There is fear, poking it's head around the door to our insecurity. As we eat-feast, really-if we look, if we feel, we can sense the anguish in the hearts of those around us, and maybe even within ourselves. Anguish that is there, and future anguish that is inevitable. Every little joy has a little pain. Every present is tied with a ribbon of sacrifice. All the gifts are wrapped up in disappointment. And all of this is just one more real illustration of how
We are
many little droplets of liquid in a river of hurt that will keep on flowing until eternity comes.
We are
many little droplets of liquid in a river of hurt that will keep on flowing until eternity comes.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
In this life, it can be the worst, and the best, the most bizzare, and the most average, all in a day. Different things come and go, different people come and go. The night of your life can be the eve of your death. Hope can be the King of your heart one moment, and bleeding out on the battlefield of your soul the next.
All of this brings psychotic emotions that make me feel like a tiny boat floating in a sea, being tossed around by roaring waves, and chuckling winds. It's like no one cares to see it that way, we all encourage the fantasy that we're just trotting along happy as a jolly little monkey, and as in control as can be. The more I see that in myself and in the people around me the more I realize that it's complete bull. None of us are in control and if we stopped the fantasy, we'd know it. Yet we put on a show and title ourselves "playwrite". We refuse to take part in things, because we didn't write them in. We refuse to sing because we can't. Can't? We don't sound right. Sound right? Since when has singing been about sounding right? Lord knows I "can't" sing (I'm about 3 steps up from tone-deafness), but I do, because, in light of those first two paragraphs up there, sometimes it's all I can do. Singing (particuarly when you don't sound "right") is like humanities way of saying, "I'm not in control, and I'm freaking out about everything, but I'm gonna sing. I'm going to sing like I have to, while knowing that I must." It's not complete passiveness (passivity?), but it's knowing that you're not in control, yet believing that it's all being taken care of.
Our song will never stand alone, because that which we believe with our hearts will forever stand by the music in our souls. We allow song to shape our lives, and joy to shape our hearts. Then when that joy begins to leak out of our hearts and into our lives, it's like we aren't on a boat in the middle of a terrific storm, holding on with all our strength, while still facing death anymore. Instead, we are floating across a restless body of water that is hurrying us along to the fearless life that waits on the other side.
All of this brings psychotic emotions that make me feel like a tiny boat floating in a sea, being tossed around by roaring waves, and chuckling winds. It's like no one cares to see it that way, we all encourage the fantasy that we're just trotting along happy as a jolly little monkey, and as in control as can be. The more I see that in myself and in the people around me the more I realize that it's complete bull. None of us are in control and if we stopped the fantasy, we'd know it. Yet we put on a show and title ourselves "playwrite". We refuse to take part in things, because we didn't write them in. We refuse to sing because we can't. Can't? We don't sound right. Sound right? Since when has singing been about sounding right? Lord knows I "can't" sing (I'm about 3 steps up from tone-deafness), but I do, because, in light of those first two paragraphs up there, sometimes it's all I can do. Singing (particuarly when you don't sound "right") is like humanities way of saying, "I'm not in control, and I'm freaking out about everything, but I'm gonna sing. I'm going to sing like I have to, while knowing that I must." It's not complete passiveness (passivity?), but it's knowing that you're not in control, yet believing that it's all being taken care of.
Our song will never stand alone, because that which we believe with our hearts will forever stand by the music in our souls. We allow song to shape our lives, and joy to shape our hearts. Then when that joy begins to leak out of our hearts and into our lives, it's like we aren't on a boat in the middle of a terrific storm, holding on with all our strength, while still facing death anymore. Instead, we are floating across a restless body of water that is hurrying us along to the fearless life that waits on the other side.
Friday, December 10, 2010
This portion of a poem I'm sharing with you, I read for my English course a few days ago. It has remained with me since then. I have found it to be incredibly comforting and encouraging.
Brianna
from The Eternal Goodness
by John Greenleaf Whittier
I bow my forehead to the dust,
I veil mine eyes for shame,
And urge, in trembling self-distrust,
A prayer without a claim.
I see the wrong that round me lies,
I feel the guilt within;
I hear, with groan and travail-cries,
The world confess its sin.
Yet, in the maddening maze of things,
And tossed by storm and flood,
To one fixed trust my spirit clings;
I know that God is good!
Not mine to look where cherubim
And seraphs may not see,
But nothing can be good in Him
Which evil is in me.
The wrong that pains my soul below
I dare not throne above,
I know no of His hate,—I know
His goodness and His love.
I dimly guess from blessings known
Of greater out of sight,
And, with the chastened Psalmist, own
His judgments too are right.
I long for household voices gone,
For vanished smiles I long,
But God hath led my dear ones on,
And He can do no wrong.
I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies.
And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,
The bruisèd reed He will not break,
But strengthen and sustain.
No offering of my own I have,
Nor works my faith to prove;
His goodness and His love.
I dimly guess from blessings known
Of greater out of sight,
And, with the chastened Psalmist, own
His judgments too are right.
I long for household voices gone,
For vanished smiles I long,
But God hath led my dear ones on,
And He can do no wrong.
I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies.
And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,
The bruisèd reed He will not break,
But strengthen and sustain.
No offering of my own I have,
Nor works my faith to prove;
I can but give the gifts He gave,
And plead His love for love.
And so beside the Silent Sea
I wait the muffled oar;
And plead His love for love.
And so beside the Silent Sea
I wait the muffled oar;
No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore.
I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.
O brothers! if my faith is vain,
If hopes like these betray,
Pray for me that my feet may gain
The sure and safer way.
And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen
Thy creatures as they be,
Forgive me if too close I lean
My human heart on Thee!
On ocean or on shore.
I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.
O brothers! if my faith is vain,
If hopes like these betray,
Pray for me that my feet may gain
The sure and safer way.
And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen
Thy creatures as they be,
Forgive me if too close I lean
My human heart on Thee!
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
O precious Lord,
Forgive my wandering heart
Forgive my idolatrous mind
Forgive the way I take it all for granted
Forgive my unbroken soul
Forgive the pride I entertain
Forgive my doubt
Forgive my discontent
Forgive my love for the things You find contemptuous
Purge me of wickedness
Enable me to be purified of my sinful nature
Strengthen me when temptation flogs me
Allow me to see Your beauty everywhere
Teach me Your truths
Show me how to love like You do
Mold me after your perfect shape
Take away my prejudice
Take away my guilt
Bring diversity to my life
Heal my worn spirit
Empower me to go out with The Message
Change my lustful nature
Allow me to perform completely opposite of my nature
Break my heart for what breaks Yours
All of this so that You will be seen.
Forgive my wandering heart
Forgive my idolatrous mind
Forgive the way I take it all for granted
Forgive my unbroken soul
Forgive the pride I entertain
Forgive my doubt
Forgive my discontent
Forgive my love for the things You find contemptuous
Purge me of wickedness
Enable me to be purified of my sinful nature
Strengthen me when temptation flogs me
Allow me to see Your beauty everywhere
Teach me Your truths
Show me how to love like You do
Mold me after your perfect shape
Take away my prejudice
Take away my guilt
Bring diversity to my life
Heal my worn spirit
Empower me to go out with The Message
Change my lustful nature
Allow me to perform completely opposite of my nature
Break my heart for what breaks Yours
All of this so that You will be seen.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Jesus is so open. He receives us, He accepts us, He loves us. All the time He spent here on earth, He spent loving others. He never said "I'm too busy", or "I'll talk to you tomorrow", or "I need my space". He welcomed all the lowlies all the time, and He still does.
That alone makes me want to say thank you in like every language ever used.
It's a huge honor and relief to be able to talk to Him. And it's so cool to know that radically different people, with enormously different lives talk to Him all the time too. I can't even imagine all the citizens of Heaven, with all their diversity. I see loads of diversity in my everyday life and sometimes I think I live in the most un-diverse place on the planet. It's awesome knowing that one day I'll have more time than I can imagine spent getting to know millions of ridiculously different people with ridiculously different stories. To Jesus, it doesn't matter what we were, or where we came from, it matters that we come, and that we abide in Him. No matter what our sins are, no matter how far gone The Man considers us to be, so long as we repent, our past wickednesses are nothing. We get covered by a huge grace, as with a blanket.
That alone makes me want to say thank you in like every language ever used.
It's a huge honor and relief to be able to talk to Him. And it's so cool to know that radically different people, with enormously different lives talk to Him all the time too. I can't even imagine all the citizens of Heaven, with all their diversity. I see loads of diversity in my everyday life and sometimes I think I live in the most un-diverse place on the planet. It's awesome knowing that one day I'll have more time than I can imagine spent getting to know millions of ridiculously different people with ridiculously different stories. To Jesus, it doesn't matter what we were, or where we came from, it matters that we come, and that we abide in Him. No matter what our sins are, no matter how far gone The Man considers us to be, so long as we repent, our past wickednesses are nothing. We get covered by a huge grace, as with a blanket.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The first half of this week has gone by in a flurry of feverish painting and furious school-doing. I started a painting on Monday that kind of swallowed me whole, so I've been catching up on school, as well as touching up that painting since then.
I began it with the intention of giving it to a friend of mine, but then got to where I liked it too much to give it away. As I was touching it up, however, I realized that the picture I had created was an animate representation of a dream that belongs to my friend. Not my dream, hers. And that made me really happy. Then the words Carpe Diem popped into my head. Like out of nowhere. Seize the day, I thought. Seize the day. This was a picture of my friend seizing the day: living her dream. How awesome is that? I'm going to paint pictures for some of my other friends too, pictures of them living their attainable dreams. Who knows? Maybe one of them will motivate a friend to take action and make it happen. (I decided to title the paintings Carpe Flippin' Diem, adding the flippin' to balance out my surfacing memory of two years of unadulterated, despicably brutal Latin translations).
All this got me to thinking about whether or not I do seize the days I am given. If I knew today was the last sunny day of the week would I be outside, basking in it's otherworldly luminescence? If I knew that tomorrow I was going to become paralyzed from the waist down, would I go for a hike right now? What if I learned that I have a month left to live? Would that reveal to me new beauties in my everyday life? Once I died, would I look back and see thousands of missed oppurtunities to show love, reach out, help, and be helped?
If I don't take a spontaneous camping trip half way across the country now, will I ever?
If I make up an excuse to avoid helping people today, will I always ignore others?
Will I ever give, if I don't now?
Will there be a better time than the present?
If not now, then when?
I don't want to look back and see what wasn't; how can any of us like the idea of looking back and seeing a life full of beauties wholly taken for granted? As far as I can tell, all real rewards spring from getting involved in stuff, living life with others, and taking advantage of everything wonderful that comes our way.
So Carpe Flippin' Diem, and seize the heck out of your day.
Lydia
I began it with the intention of giving it to a friend of mine, but then got to where I liked it too much to give it away. As I was touching it up, however, I realized that the picture I had created was an animate representation of a dream that belongs to my friend. Not my dream, hers. And that made me really happy. Then the words Carpe Diem popped into my head. Like out of nowhere. Seize the day, I thought. Seize the day. This was a picture of my friend seizing the day: living her dream. How awesome is that? I'm going to paint pictures for some of my other friends too, pictures of them living their attainable dreams. Who knows? Maybe one of them will motivate a friend to take action and make it happen. (I decided to title the paintings Carpe Flippin' Diem, adding the flippin' to balance out my surfacing memory of two years of unadulterated, despicably brutal Latin translations).
All this got me to thinking about whether or not I do seize the days I am given. If I knew today was the last sunny day of the week would I be outside, basking in it's otherworldly luminescence? If I knew that tomorrow I was going to become paralyzed from the waist down, would I go for a hike right now? What if I learned that I have a month left to live? Would that reveal to me new beauties in my everyday life? Once I died, would I look back and see thousands of missed oppurtunities to show love, reach out, help, and be helped?
If I don't take a spontaneous camping trip half way across the country now, will I ever?
If I make up an excuse to avoid helping people today, will I always ignore others?
Will I ever give, if I don't now?
Will there be a better time than the present?
If not now, then when?
I don't want to look back and see what wasn't; how can any of us like the idea of looking back and seeing a life full of beauties wholly taken for granted? As far as I can tell, all real rewards spring from getting involved in stuff, living life with others, and taking advantage of everything wonderful that comes our way.
So Carpe Flippin' Diem, and seize the heck out of your day.
Lydia
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The birthday: for future reference
I'm going to outline my birthday on here because all weekend I've been trying to recall my last birthday, and I can't. No one else can either. Even if it wasn't the most exciting birthday, I want to at least remember it, you know? Since that's kinda a bummer, I'm going to make sure I have something to remind me of this birthday next year.
My presents: Painting supplies :), A teenage mutant ninja turtle belt (!), a study Bible, a vuvuzela :D, a punching bag (yessss), trail mix (the best kind), a painting, a bracelet, another bracelet/hairband, $, an itunes giftcard, and a free smoothie from Tropical. Basically the most maginficent presents ever.
The people who celebrated with me: UJ and Aunt Mary. The Ps. The bff (see blog title). The little Noogs. The Bean. The parents. The Meghead.
The lows: Felt baaaaaad. Things rotten between one parent and I ):
The highs: 10 hours with afore mentioned bff, awesome gifts. The love of God.
The activities: Choich. Eating. Driving. Singing. Blowing the vuvuzela. Talking to friends and family.
The End.
Lydia
I'm going to outline my birthday on here because all weekend I've been trying to recall my last birthday, and I can't. No one else can either. Even if it wasn't the most exciting birthday, I want to at least remember it, you know? Since that's kinda a bummer, I'm going to make sure I have something to remind me of this birthday next year.
My presents: Painting supplies :), A teenage mutant ninja turtle belt (!), a study Bible, a vuvuzela :D, a punching bag (yessss), trail mix (the best kind), a painting, a bracelet, another bracelet/hairband, $, an itunes giftcard, and a free smoothie from Tropical. Basically the most maginficent presents ever.
The people who celebrated with me: UJ and Aunt Mary. The Ps. The bff (see blog title). The little Noogs. The Bean. The parents. The Meghead.
The lows: Felt baaaaaad. Things rotten between one parent and I ):
The highs: 10 hours with afore mentioned bff, awesome gifts. The love of God.
The activities: Choich. Eating. Driving. Singing. Blowing the vuvuzela. Talking to friends and family.
The End.
Lydia
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Doing a post on thankfulness right now is so corny but when I've got:
Everything I need
A wonderful church (as in the people. the building doesn't mean nuttin)
Friends with whom I spend a lot of time
More reading material than I can handle
A djembe
An interesting short story idea bouncing around in my head
Beatles music readily available
16 years and 11 plus months under my belt
The world open before me
Great health
A God who is always with me,
Loves me more than life,
And is bigger than the biggest heartbreak,
How can I help it?
Lydia
Everything I need
A wonderful church (as in the people. the building doesn't mean nuttin)
Friends with whom I spend a lot of time
More reading material than I can handle
A djembe
An interesting short story idea bouncing around in my head
Beatles music readily available
16 years and 11 plus months under my belt
The world open before me
Great health
A God who is always with me,
Loves me more than life,
And is bigger than the biggest heartbreak,
How can I help it?
Lydia
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Hate the sin, hate not the sinner.
Many times today, I think, people tend to hate a sin and then turn around and subconsciously hate the person who committed the sin. I have been guilty of this, so I know others are guilty as well.
It's so east to be judgemental, to see a person sinning and think, "Oh they're not fit to be saved; they're not worth to be saced and be my brother or sister in Christ." How dangerous, and how false a statement! These people need Christ just as much as I do, just as much as you do. For us as believers to fall prey to this idea that because one person has ugly sin that they are not worthy of the Gospel, or a Savior. That is false and could not be further from the truth.
I am a sinner. I have sinned just like the rest of the world. For me to sit by and watch as the community of the Church (who should be the most loving, kind, accepting people) judge the rest of the world the way they tend to do is unacceptable. Not to mention that we are no better as people because we're saved, as someone who isn't saved.
"Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God."
1 Corinthians 6:9-11
If that doesn't put things into perspective; if it doesn't convict you, then I pray at some point it would.
Hate the sin, LOVE the sinner.
Monday, November 15, 2010
I've got this ongoing quest for unrationalized(there's probably an actual word for that), un-industrialized stuff. Not crappy home made crafts, but stuff that I would otherwise buy at the oh-so-rationalized Wal Mart. This is why I like buying products from Threads 4 Thought, Nest (buildanest.com), Ten Thousand Villages, Sway Hearts and local green/eco-friendly stores (though all those places are still pretty rationalized). My favorite, though, is stuff made by myself, or someone I know directly. I like seeing a bunch of different elements beforehand, watching them be sewn, glued, stitched, and taped together, and turned into something useful and fun.
What I realized today is that music totally comes from people; music is bureaucracy-free (that's what unrationalized means in sociology terms)! Not machines, not huge organizations, just people. Even the sound-machine sounds that are infused in all the songs one hears on the radio can't hide the individuality of the drums, the guitar, the violin, the human voice. It's awesome. One can pick apart the different instruments, and it's not machines playing those instruments, it's people! There's a different person behind each sound that goes on. Heck, even DJs are behind those sound machines. Basically all this means that if i, Robot does happen, and we humans lose this time, we'll still be the ones with the music. There's a beautiful process that we miss out on when we're working on just one part of something. It's so rewarding to be able to break stuff down and get it back to the people, and the raw ingredients that make it real.
Lydia
What I realized today is that music totally comes from people; music is bureaucracy-free (that's what unrationalized means in sociology terms)! Not machines, not huge organizations, just people. Even the sound-machine sounds that are infused in all the songs one hears on the radio can't hide the individuality of the drums, the guitar, the violin, the human voice. It's awesome. One can pick apart the different instruments, and it's not machines playing those instruments, it's people! There's a different person behind each sound that goes on. Heck, even DJs are behind those sound machines. Basically all this means that if i, Robot does happen, and we humans lose this time, we'll still be the ones with the music. There's a beautiful process that we miss out on when we're working on just one part of something. It's so rewarding to be able to break stuff down and get it back to the people, and the raw ingredients that make it real.
Lydia
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Yesterday, Brianna and I were in a church class dealio and we were talking about the sovereignty of God or something, and how He has the ability to take anyone of us or any of our relatives at any moment. The "teacher" quickly mentioned various semi-common ways to die like cancer, heart failure, or an anuerysm in ones' brain. When he said that last one I heard Brianna (next to me) suck in her breath. I looked at her, and then remembered. That's how Ms. Sample died. I immediately felt mellow, and sort of stirred up. It was just like wow. How quickly one unexpected reminder got my heart back to feeling sad, and confused.
Later yesterday I had prayer time with a girl named Anna and she mentioned almost crying during the morning class. Her beloved aunt passed away a while back from cancer-another of the diseases/inflictions that had been mentioned. We found out that we've both suffered the same sorts of grief. It was nice to speak to someone who knows exactly what it's like, and who felt the same way I did that morning.
How crazy is it that grief can bring us together in ways that life never has?
Lydia
Later yesterday I had prayer time with a girl named Anna and she mentioned almost crying during the morning class. Her beloved aunt passed away a while back from cancer-another of the diseases/inflictions that had been mentioned. We found out that we've both suffered the same sorts of grief. It was nice to speak to someone who knows exactly what it's like, and who felt the same way I did that morning.
How crazy is it that grief can bring us together in ways that life never has?
Lydia
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Pilgrims. When you hear that word what do you think? I'm going to guess that most people think of the Pilgrims and associate Thanksgiving, Indians, and a looooooong time ago. That's what I thought of until today.
I got a magazine today (I get this magazine monthly--Voice of the Martyrs--and it's absolutely fantastic) and the editors note was on Pilgrims. I laughed to myself and thought, "Why not, might as well read it." He explained that he can identify people in his life as being "pilgrims." These people came into his life and walked with him and his family through tough times and average times. These people journeyed through the highs and lows of his life. They helped him, comforted him, and prayed for him during these times.
Today, while reading this, I just realized how incredibly true this is. How beautiful this is.
I sat and thought of the people in my life who stand out, who journeyed with me through times of hardship and of joy. Some of these people have come and gone, brought into my life by the hand of God, at just the right moment to help me through one or two patches in my life. Other people are still here, helping me make sense of this thing called life. Yet others, specifically one, have passed from this Earth to a life beyond this.
I am overwhelmed with the love I have been shown through my life. It is beautiful. The Lord has been good. He has shown me His love, through His people. Through community. He has brought the perfect people into my life at just the right moments to help me not mess up to much; to make heads and tails of things.
My dearest, Lord Jesus--Son of the Father, thank you.
Brianna
I got a magazine today (I get this magazine monthly--Voice of the Martyrs--and it's absolutely fantastic) and the editors note was on Pilgrims. I laughed to myself and thought, "Why not, might as well read it." He explained that he can identify people in his life as being "pilgrims." These people came into his life and walked with him and his family through tough times and average times. These people journeyed through the highs and lows of his life. They helped him, comforted him, and prayed for him during these times.
Today, while reading this, I just realized how incredibly true this is. How beautiful this is.
I sat and thought of the people in my life who stand out, who journeyed with me through times of hardship and of joy. Some of these people have come and gone, brought into my life by the hand of God, at just the right moment to help me through one or two patches in my life. Other people are still here, helping me make sense of this thing called life. Yet others, specifically one, have passed from this Earth to a life beyond this.
I am overwhelmed with the love I have been shown through my life. It is beautiful. The Lord has been good. He has shown me His love, through His people. Through community. He has brought the perfect people into my life at just the right moments to help me not mess up to much; to make heads and tails of things.
My dearest, Lord Jesus--Son of the Father, thank you.
Brianna
If you drove past my house today (highly unlikely) you would have seen me on my bicycle. In sweatpants (yes, the closed-ankle kind) and TOMS, rocking this oddly shaped-helmet that I got from Goodwill.
I've taken up cycling, and once you get past the realization that you're not only propeling yourself over several miles for no real reason, but also a 50-100 pound bicycle, it's not bad. I do really enjoy it actually. I just have to keep myself from comparing it to running, because then I'll start hating it.
There's a restaurant about seven miles from where I live (Hayestack Cafe-go try it, you'll be glad you did) and I applied for a job there last week. They said if I got the job I'd most likely be washing dishes. ha. Anyway, that's why I've started cycling. I'm building up my endurance so IF I get the job I can cycle myself there instead of using my mom's car and a bunch of fuel. It will be most eco-friendly if it works out. And even if they don't hire me, I'm gonna ride there sometime and eat. So really it's a win, win.
Lydia
I've taken up cycling, and once you get past the realization that you're not only propeling yourself over several miles for no real reason, but also a 50-100 pound bicycle, it's not bad. I do really enjoy it actually. I just have to keep myself from comparing it to running, because then I'll start hating it.
There's a restaurant about seven miles from where I live (Hayestack Cafe-go try it, you'll be glad you did) and I applied for a job there last week. They said if I got the job I'd most likely be washing dishes. ha. Anyway, that's why I've started cycling. I'm building up my endurance so IF I get the job I can cycle myself there instead of using my mom's car and a bunch of fuel. It will be most eco-friendly if it works out. And even if they don't hire me, I'm gonna ride there sometime and eat. So really it's a win, win.
Lydia
Friday, October 29, 2010
In India,
of every 1,000 babies born alive, 52 die before age 1,
nearly half the children younger than 5 are malnourished,
every year, 1.5 million children die before their 5th birthday because of unsafe water, inadequate sanitation, or poor hygiene,
30% of adult women are underweight,
70% of women can't read or write,
nearly 30% of all newborns have a low weight,
and about 46% of all children younger than 3 are small for their age.
Around the world,
every sixth child (ages 15-17) is engaged in child labour (218 million),
22,000 children die yearly in work-related accidents,
and 8.4 million children are trapped in slavery, trafficking, debt, bondage, prostitution, and pornography.
Every country and developing country harbours abusive child labour in some form.
Some of that is from Unicef, some of it is from Compassion International. Doubt the statistics if you want, but who would make all this up?
Keep your eyes open. Look for ways to make the world a better place. Love more. Share more. Change the world more.
Lydia
of every 1,000 babies born alive, 52 die before age 1,
nearly half the children younger than 5 are malnourished,
every year, 1.5 million children die before their 5th birthday because of unsafe water, inadequate sanitation, or poor hygiene,
30% of adult women are underweight,
70% of women can't read or write,
nearly 30% of all newborns have a low weight,
and about 46% of all children younger than 3 are small for their age.
Around the world,
every sixth child (ages 15-17) is engaged in child labour (218 million),
22,000 children die yearly in work-related accidents,
and 8.4 million children are trapped in slavery, trafficking, debt, bondage, prostitution, and pornography.
Every country and developing country harbours abusive child labour in some form.
Some of that is from Unicef, some of it is from Compassion International. Doubt the statistics if you want, but who would make all this up?
Keep your eyes open. Look for ways to make the world a better place. Love more. Share more. Change the world more.
Lydia
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
I had about a 30 minute period today filled with me freaking out. I went to the library desprately in need of a few books (I read a lot...). I didn't anticipate what I found. There was a shelf with a large banner that read "BANNED BOOKS."........................................................I want that to sink in for a moment. Alright, your reaction should be something along the lines of "OH MY WORD!" That was exactly what I was thinking.
My mind was spinning thinking about books being banned. I was so incredible distraught. Think about it for a moment, books being banned at a public library. That to me just screams Communisim. All I could think about was that our country was going to Hell in a handbasket, that the U.S. was becoming a Communist society and, that I was going to be moving to Canada as soon as I could.
Needless to say I grabbed a book from this section (I am a rebel at heart, what can I say), and plodded over to the normal book section I look at, all the while muttering to myself--both out loud and in my head--about the world and what it was coming too.
I can not picture a world in which I could not read certain things just because it is deemed "wrong" or "innappropriate" by society. I want, no I need that freedom to read whatever I want. I need that freedom to learn about culture, the world, and what other people think.
Now that I probably have most people in a panic let me finish my story. I proceeded with all my books (I got 5 or 6) to check out. The nice lady who helped me informed me of a $0.30 fine...I paid it, and then she scanned all my books. As soon as she was done, I casually glanced at her and asked her about the "Banned Books." She told me that the "Banned Books" were merely put on display for the month to inform people about the history of banned books. The books on display were books previously banned by different groups, both religious and cultural.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief and told her how glad I was for this, and how worried I was that I was going to have to move to Canada...and I left the library, books in hand an a heart calmed.
Brianna
My mind was spinning thinking about books being banned. I was so incredible distraught. Think about it for a moment, books being banned at a public library. That to me just screams Communisim. All I could think about was that our country was going to Hell in a handbasket, that the U.S. was becoming a Communist society and, that I was going to be moving to Canada as soon as I could.
Needless to say I grabbed a book from this section (I am a rebel at heart, what can I say), and plodded over to the normal book section I look at, all the while muttering to myself--both out loud and in my head--about the world and what it was coming too.
I can not picture a world in which I could not read certain things just because it is deemed "wrong" or "innappropriate" by society. I want, no I need that freedom to read whatever I want. I need that freedom to learn about culture, the world, and what other people think.
Now that I probably have most people in a panic let me finish my story. I proceeded with all my books (I got 5 or 6) to check out. The nice lady who helped me informed me of a $0.30 fine...I paid it, and then she scanned all my books. As soon as she was done, I casually glanced at her and asked her about the "Banned Books." She told me that the "Banned Books" were merely put on display for the month to inform people about the history of banned books. The books on display were books previously banned by different groups, both religious and cultural.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief and told her how glad I was for this, and how worried I was that I was going to have to move to Canada...and I left the library, books in hand an a heart calmed.
Brianna
Sor
ry, you kind of need a magnifying glass to see this picture, but it's the only one I could find.
It's Teen Angst?Naaah..., author Ned Vizzini's autobiography. I finished reading it yesterday, and ohmyword it's so great. It takes you event-by-event through his Junior High and High School years, and man! the dude is hysterical.
Let's face it-we all had those awful years of development when we obsessed over something, anything. For Ned it was video games, for me it was certain fantasy-fiction works. Those years were there, we can't deny them, though we can try (really hard) to forget. Mr. Vizzini writes us through those awful years, poking fun at himself, and the laughable way he coped with everything. It's so great to hear someone else look at life and know that it's not some tight rope that you have to walk perfectly. He makes fun of himself, and his high school, and his decisions, and really comes out ahead for his honesty. I recommend (obviously).
Lydia
ry, you kind of need a magnifying glass to see this picture, but it's the only one I could find. It's Teen Angst?Naaah..., author Ned Vizzini's autobiography. I finished reading it yesterday, and ohmyword it's so great. It takes you event-by-event through his Junior High and High School years, and man! the dude is hysterical.
Let's face it-we all had those awful years of development when we obsessed over something, anything. For Ned it was video games, for me it was certain fantasy-fiction works. Those years were there, we can't deny them, though we can try (really hard) to forget. Mr. Vizzini writes us through those awful years, poking fun at himself, and the laughable way he coped with everything. It's so great to hear someone else look at life and know that it's not some tight rope that you have to walk perfectly. He makes fun of himself, and his high school, and his decisions, and really comes out ahead for his honesty. I recommend (obviously).
Lydia
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Since Saturday, well really since last Tuesday life has been at an all time high. I love it. I've been busy, and it's been wonderful. It's been a mix of the following:
Friends--lots of them...and it's beautiful.
Decisions--I've made some that I'm excited about.
ACT I'm not going to talk about that.
Indecision--I know, I know
Life Management--class I'm taking for school...sooooo good.
"You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson
Praise songs
Taco Bell
Rain--I love it when it rains.
I love life, and I'm enjoying and learning to enjoy even more the little things in life. I'm so glad it's been raining. I just love the smell of the rain, and the way it smells after it rains.
Brianna
Friends--lots of them...and it's beautiful.
Decisions--I've made some that I'm excited about.
ACT I'm not going to talk about that.
Indecision--I know, I know
Life Management--class I'm taking for school...sooooo good.
"You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson
Praise songs
Taco Bell
Rain--I love it when it rains.
I love life, and I'm enjoying and learning to enjoy even more the little things in life. I'm so glad it's been raining. I just love the smell of the rain, and the way it smells after it rains.
Brianna
Friday, October 22, 2010
Gulliver's Travels is an awful book in my humble opinion.
Controlled Media is starting to freak me out.
Sociology is a crazy subject.
I really want to pierce my eyebrow.
It's so beautiful outside.
Ted Lennon and Ingrid Michaelson both make wonderful music.
A year and a half of High School left.
I want to go on a really long camping trip in Arizona.
That's my week for you.
Lydia
Controlled Media is starting to freak me out.
Sociology is a crazy subject.
I really want to pierce my eyebrow.
It's so beautiful outside.
Ted Lennon and Ingrid Michaelson both make wonderful music.
A year and a half of High School left.
I want to go on a really long camping trip in Arizona.
That's my week for you.
Lydia
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The Jesus Vernacular
Sorry, Brianna, I know we agreed on no titles, but I couldn't resist. Just this once. I promise.
I love those three words together though...The Jesus Vernacular. They came to me last night around midnight and I've been tossing them around in my head since then.
I figure the phrase means something like the way Jesus spoke, or the words that should be first on the lips of all Christians: our "native language", in a way. If that is so, then we need to carefully evaluate everything that He has said. Maybe, in order to acquire a legitimate Jesus vernacular we should study the red letters: meditate on them, even. Replenish the gardens of our dry souls with their life-giving Message.
I think that it takes one special person to have his/her own vernacular. Their own language! Well, studying the words of Jesus show us just that: a unique language. I want to call it a language of love, but that's not inclusive enough. He didn't just love, He lived love. He showed mercy: He embodied strength of mind and spirit.
If you know any of Jesus' stories, you know that He didn't slander different racial groups, He didn't belittle the minorities, He respected everyone, even those who lacked respect at the time. He showed the world that an unfaithful woman is just as precious as the most faithful man. He opened the kingdom of God to the outsiders, the outcasts, the destitute. Even so, I shall open my heart to the lowly, to the miserable. Our souls were made to be lifted up to God as fragrant offerings. He has given us the perfect example of how to be just that. He has told us what to say! He has documented a special jargon, dialect, lingo, manner of speaking.
It's splendid, really!
May all of God's children will find the soul power to take advantage of this set-apart language, and the Helper who is always with us. Let's speak the words of love every day no matter where we are, no matter who we're with, no matter Who is watching.
Let us use the Jesus Vernacular.
Lydia
I love those three words together though...The Jesus Vernacular. They came to me last night around midnight and I've been tossing them around in my head since then.
I figure the phrase means something like the way Jesus spoke, or the words that should be first on the lips of all Christians: our "native language", in a way. If that is so, then we need to carefully evaluate everything that He has said. Maybe, in order to acquire a legitimate Jesus vernacular we should study the red letters: meditate on them, even. Replenish the gardens of our dry souls with their life-giving Message.
I think that it takes one special person to have his/her own vernacular. Their own language! Well, studying the words of Jesus show us just that: a unique language. I want to call it a language of love, but that's not inclusive enough. He didn't just love, He lived love. He showed mercy: He embodied strength of mind and spirit.
If you know any of Jesus' stories, you know that He didn't slander different racial groups, He didn't belittle the minorities, He respected everyone, even those who lacked respect at the time. He showed the world that an unfaithful woman is just as precious as the most faithful man. He opened the kingdom of God to the outsiders, the outcasts, the destitute. Even so, I shall open my heart to the lowly, to the miserable. Our souls were made to be lifted up to God as fragrant offerings. He has given us the perfect example of how to be just that. He has told us what to say! He has documented a special jargon, dialect, lingo, manner of speaking.
It's splendid, really!
May all of God's children will find the soul power to take advantage of this set-apart language, and the Helper who is always with us. Let's speak the words of love every day no matter where we are, no matter who we're with, no matter Who is watching.
Let us use the Jesus Vernacular.
Lydia
Sunday, October 17, 2010
This post is for the people who don't have water, who don't have work, who don't have hope. This one goes to the children whose parents love them, and to those whose parents abandoned them. In this post, I ache for everyone who has died, and for everyone who longs to die. I cry for the pain of the lonely child, and I sob for the hungry. Here I wish luck to the Hispanics applying for permission to enter the land of oppurtunity so that they can obtain a job that will enable them to feed their family. What a stark contrast there is between those who celebrate life, and those who celebrate death.
I question Bali and the Caribbean islands as they contradict their own beauty with poverty suffered by multitudes. How can Mexico City be so beautiful, and so dirty?
Oh! the beauty of the Indian celebration, oh! the cruelty of the Calcutta red light district. Look at the colourful African plain, look at the war-torn farm land. I love the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, but it hurts to hear that children live on streets in the neighbouring metropolis. How horrible to know that someone has choked to death in a country full of air filters and fast-acting asthma medication. I utter a sad cry for the people who feel left behind, and lost in a crowd.
Here I raise my banner high, as a rebel refusing to submit to the cruelty of this planet. I refuse to let it be. I don't like seeing others suffer, I don't like knowing that they do. I hate to hear of those who refuse to take the hand offered them.There is so much beauty, but there is so much hurt. I long to see it all changed; I long to belong. What a glory to know that soon there will be a new time when nothing is wrong, and nothing is perverted. The truth which is the answer to the pain has been revealed-it has all been said. The real problem is that so many of us refuse to listen.
This one is for those who have yet to hear, but are ready to believe.
Lydia
I question Bali and the Caribbean islands as they contradict their own beauty with poverty suffered by multitudes. How can Mexico City be so beautiful, and so dirty?
Oh! the beauty of the Indian celebration, oh! the cruelty of the Calcutta red light district. Look at the colourful African plain, look at the war-torn farm land. I love the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, but it hurts to hear that children live on streets in the neighbouring metropolis. How horrible to know that someone has choked to death in a country full of air filters and fast-acting asthma medication. I utter a sad cry for the people who feel left behind, and lost in a crowd.
Here I raise my banner high, as a rebel refusing to submit to the cruelty of this planet. I refuse to let it be. I don't like seeing others suffer, I don't like knowing that they do. I hate to hear of those who refuse to take the hand offered them.There is so much beauty, but there is so much hurt. I long to see it all changed; I long to belong. What a glory to know that soon there will be a new time when nothing is wrong, and nothing is perverted. The truth which is the answer to the pain has been revealed-it has all been said. The real problem is that so many of us refuse to listen.
This one is for those who have yet to hear, but are ready to believe.
Lydia
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
"We are His portion and He is our prize, Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes, If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking." from "How He Loves" by the David Crowder Band
This song is beautiful. It has become one of my absolute favorite songs. I won't ever forget the first time I heard it. I was brought to tears by the words of the song, and by the situation that had come about days before. This song has given me hope and peace. It has reminded me of the love of my Father.
I could write about each line in the song. It's so beautifully written. This line stands out boldly to me: "If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking." The Lord bestows upon us a never-ending grace. A grace so deep, so wide, so full that it sweeps us away. He drowns us in His grace and His love.
I can't think of all the times I've screwed up. All the times I've failed to do what is right. All the times I've messed up and not been proud of myself. I am unable to imagine all the heartache my parents have felt when I continually mess up in life, even when it's just the "little things." If I'm unable to understand that, then the heaviness of the heart of God when I mess up is unfathomable. But yet, He pours out His grace that is like the ocean and forgives me, wipes me clean. He drowns me in His grace, and loves me like no other.
Brianna
This song is beautiful. It has become one of my absolute favorite songs. I won't ever forget the first time I heard it. I was brought to tears by the words of the song, and by the situation that had come about days before. This song has given me hope and peace. It has reminded me of the love of my Father.
I could write about each line in the song. It's so beautifully written. This line stands out boldly to me: "If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking." The Lord bestows upon us a never-ending grace. A grace so deep, so wide, so full that it sweeps us away. He drowns us in His grace and His love.
I can't think of all the times I've screwed up. All the times I've failed to do what is right. All the times I've messed up and not been proud of myself. I am unable to imagine all the heartache my parents have felt when I continually mess up in life, even when it's just the "little things." If I'm unable to understand that, then the heaviness of the heart of God when I mess up is unfathomable. But yet, He pours out His grace that is like the ocean and forgives me, wipes me clean. He drowns me in His grace, and loves me like no other.
Brianna
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
"I want to run on greener pastures
I want to dance on higher hills
I want to drink from sweeter waters
In the misty morning chill
And my soul is getting restless
For the place where I belong
I can't wait to join the angels and sing my heaven song"
"Heaven Song" by Phil Wickham
These lyrics have been on my mind and heavy on my heart the last couple of days.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Today I burned a few CDs for friends (legally-I burned them off of itunes). They are awesome. Stinking awesome if I do say so myself. A few of my favorite songs that I put on them are:
Heaven Song by Phil Wickham
You and I by Ingrid Michaelson
How He Loves by David Crowder Band
So in Love feat. Jack Johnson and Colbie Callait by Ted Lennon
The One Who Loves You the Most by Brett Dennen
Lydia
Heaven Song by Phil Wickham
You and I by Ingrid Michaelson
How He Loves by David Crowder Band
So in Love feat. Jack Johnson and Colbie Callait by Ted Lennon
The One Who Loves You the Most by Brett Dennen
Lydia
Friday, October 8, 2010
I've figured out that inspiration is everywhere. I've heard that quite a few times, but now I've learned it.I was watching Miami Ink (this suhweet show on Green channel and TLC about a tattoo studio in Miami)the other day, and I could not stop watching it, because the art and the artists were so phenomenal. For some reason I haven't actually thought about tattooing as it's own art form before. I've always just lumped it with drawing and painting. Big mistake. Tattooes have a distinct style about them. Kind of dark, and flowy. They're beautiful. And the artists themselves seem like cool people (given this is a TV show, not everyday life). Anyway, the tats on the show inspired me to try all different kinds of lettering and sort of in-your-face graphics. That led me to teach myself graffiti. It's very fun. Above is an example of what I've been doing.
Life is a learning experience, isn't it?
Lydia
Tuesday, I said good-bye to someone who entered my life a few years ago, but has grown to be a very dear close friend. She's leaving to go to Colorado for a couple months for training before going to Africa. I'm so excited for her.
I'm going to miss her so very much. I'm going to miss her sweet smile, her kind words...and the fact that she puts up with the insanity of us teenage girls. She never has uttered an harsh word to me. She is so kind, encouraging and sweet. I'm thankful for her love for life.
I'm going to miss her so very much. I can't wait for her to get home and share her stories of living life.
Brianna
I'm going to miss her so very much. I'm going to miss her sweet smile, her kind words...and the fact that she puts up with the insanity of us teenage girls. She never has uttered an harsh word to me. She is so kind, encouraging and sweet. I'm thankful for her love for life.
I'm going to miss her so very much. I can't wait for her to get home and share her stories of living life.
Brianna
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
I have a desire. I have a desire to worship with my hands. To worship with my hands uplifted to God, glorifiying Him...for being...God. I want to worship not just mentally, but emotionally, and physically. I want to be able to show my joy to the Lord in songs of praise to HIM!
I have been struggling with this for a while. Currently, I cannot worship like this...exactly. Sure I can raise a hand when singing, but not in a truly expressive way. I'm not saying I want to jump around and act crazy, I don't. But just expressing my love and joy in the Lord, giving Him the glory, that is my desire.
I go to a great church. I don't think it is at all a bad church. At all. The doctrine is fantastic. But, I can say with all honesty that emotional worship is not a big deal. Worship is stationary, not very emotional. This is a struggle for me. I want to worship the Lord in an enviornment where the doctrine is great, but also where I am free to raise my hands in glory to my Creator. Even more so, I want to do so in a place where people won't look down on me. Where it isn't "weird" or "odd for me to do so. Church is meant to be a family. But when a family isn't supportive or on the same page as you...is that not a problem?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying emotions in worship is more important than doctrine. You can't have one without the other. It isn't one without the other. It should be a balance.
I want to feel at home. I want to feel at home in church.
Brianna
P.S. I apologize for maybe not being clear. This was a spilling out of emotion and pain.
I have been struggling with this for a while. Currently, I cannot worship like this...exactly. Sure I can raise a hand when singing, but not in a truly expressive way. I'm not saying I want to jump around and act crazy, I don't. But just expressing my love and joy in the Lord, giving Him the glory, that is my desire.
I go to a great church. I don't think it is at all a bad church. At all. The doctrine is fantastic. But, I can say with all honesty that emotional worship is not a big deal. Worship is stationary, not very emotional. This is a struggle for me. I want to worship the Lord in an enviornment where the doctrine is great, but also where I am free to raise my hands in glory to my Creator. Even more so, I want to do so in a place where people won't look down on me. Where it isn't "weird" or "odd for me to do so. Church is meant to be a family. But when a family isn't supportive or on the same page as you...is that not a problem?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying emotions in worship is more important than doctrine. You can't have one without the other. It isn't one without the other. It should be a balance.
I want to feel at home. I want to feel at home in church.
Brianna
P.S. I apologize for maybe not being clear. This was a spilling out of emotion and pain.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Happy October 1st!
Lydia: After a month as crazy as September has been, I would love to have a month untouched by death and pain. Seeing how that would require my dying and going to heaven, I'll simply hope to keep up with my studies and say "no" to procrastination this October.
Brianna: I am thankful for fall. As October is beginning, I am hoping to make it to the Bush home at least one Sunday this month. I am also praying I survive the ACT. I would like to echo Lydia's sentiments above about wanting to have a month untouched by death and pain.
Lydia: After a month as crazy as September has been, I would love to have a month untouched by death and pain. Seeing how that would require my dying and going to heaven, I'll simply hope to keep up with my studies and say "no" to procrastination this October.
Brianna: I am thankful for fall. As October is beginning, I am hoping to make it to the Bush home at least one Sunday this month. I am also praying I survive the ACT. I would like to echo Lydia's sentiments above about wanting to have a month untouched by death and pain.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I've always thought that it's important to know who your favorite character in a story is. I even got anal about it back in the day, and made myself choose a favorite character from every movie I watched and story I heard. haha. Now, though, I only have a favorite when someone particularly stands out to me. This time it's Mercy from Pilgrim's Progress.
When Christiana, her boys, and Mercy get to the Gate (the beginning of Part 2 in the book), Christiana and the boys go in while Mercy remains outside. She was not invited the way Christiana had been by her husband, Christian. Mercy was timid, and fearful. She believed in God, but was hesitant to knock on the gate for herself because she felt a little bit less welcome than Christiana. Eventually, though, she gathered her courage and knocked. In boldness she summoned the Interpreter and he answered, in spite of how different her way of coming was from Christiana's.
She was different, yet she felt in her heart that her boldness was good, and therefore she refused to be turned away from the path to the Celestial City. Kinda awesome, I'd say....
Lydia
When Christiana, her boys, and Mercy get to the Gate (the beginning of Part 2 in the book), Christiana and the boys go in while Mercy remains outside. She was not invited the way Christiana had been by her husband, Christian. Mercy was timid, and fearful. She believed in God, but was hesitant to knock on the gate for herself because she felt a little bit less welcome than Christiana. Eventually, though, she gathered her courage and knocked. In boldness she summoned the Interpreter and he answered, in spite of how different her way of coming was from Christiana's.
She was different, yet she felt in her heart that her boldness was good, and therefore she refused to be turned away from the path to the Celestial City. Kinda awesome, I'd say....
Lydia
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Lately, the different ways people do things and how they react to others has been on my mind a lot. Particularly in refernce to worship.
I find SUCH great joy in visiting other cultures and places, because there's always a little something that is different. Even if it's just the way they fold their napkins, it's interesting to me that they do it that way. Sure, folding napkins in half is more economical than making them into origami flamingoes, but that's the way they do it, so it's cool.
What rubs me wrong is when people judge other people for doing stuff their own way (when they tell them they shouldn't do it that way, I mean). If one of my friends was doing something totally unreasonable like the flamingo-napkin example above, I would be like, "Yo, that takes way more time", but I wouldn't tell them not to do it just because that's not how I would do it. Half the world eats with their hands. Who are we to tell them to use forks?
What I am getting at is this question that has developed in my mind. It comes from a few months of 1) studying the Bible, 2) worshipping the same God in different places, 3) discovering more about myself, and how my personality fits with my style of worship, and my relationships with other people, and 4) listening to people talk about their passions.
If someone asked you what your passion was what would you say?
If your passion was similar to mine, I would be excited, we would get along, or at least have something to talk about. But if your passions were different than mine we would probably have a short conversation, then go our separate ways.
Anyway, what I am struggling with right now is the fact that I go to this church full of people very different from me. And even while I love diversity, I find these differences to be barriers. It's not differences like skin colour or ice cream preference. It's that a whole lot of people at my church love college football, and I really really don't (there are many many other differences). And while I'm vocal about some passions, they are vocal about totally different ones. Now I don't want to get up in their business about what they're vocal about, and what they're not-it's them, I'm me-they don't need to like and talk about everything that I like and talk about. Whatever, you know. I'm just trying to find an answer to the question in my heart....is it alright to leave a church not because anything they do is Unbiblical, but rather because you don't feel like you fit?
Here's the deal: I love worship, I love praise songs, I try to love hymns, but I really don't. They (generally) seem more like death-chants than songs to me. So I want a church where only (or at least more, and more passionate) praise songs are sung. I would also like to worship in a place where people feel free to worship however they want to, and aren't looked at like freaks if they clap their hands, raise their arms, or dance in joy throughout the service. I would like for their to be a church where Megan (my awesome, yet very conservative, and less um...boisterous (annoying) ) friend would not feel weird for worshipping her way, and I would not feel weird for worshipping my way (which are probably very different ways considering we're just about opposites ;). I just don't think God made me the way I am so that I'd stick out like a sore thumb at my church.
I still have no answer, and that's cool. I know God wants me at Covenant Presbyterian right now, because that is where my Dad and Mom want me. The actual decision making comes later. For now, I'm just thinking, and praying, and all that.
Lydia
(Congratulations on making it through the longest post ever)
I find SUCH great joy in visiting other cultures and places, because there's always a little something that is different. Even if it's just the way they fold their napkins, it's interesting to me that they do it that way. Sure, folding napkins in half is more economical than making them into origami flamingoes, but that's the way they do it, so it's cool.
What rubs me wrong is when people judge other people for doing stuff their own way (when they tell them they shouldn't do it that way, I mean). If one of my friends was doing something totally unreasonable like the flamingo-napkin example above, I would be like, "Yo, that takes way more time", but I wouldn't tell them not to do it just because that's not how I would do it. Half the world eats with their hands. Who are we to tell them to use forks?
What I am getting at is this question that has developed in my mind. It comes from a few months of 1) studying the Bible, 2) worshipping the same God in different places, 3) discovering more about myself, and how my personality fits with my style of worship, and my relationships with other people, and 4) listening to people talk about their passions.
If someone asked you what your passion was what would you say?
If your passion was similar to mine, I would be excited, we would get along, or at least have something to talk about. But if your passions were different than mine we would probably have a short conversation, then go our separate ways.
Anyway, what I am struggling with right now is the fact that I go to this church full of people very different from me. And even while I love diversity, I find these differences to be barriers. It's not differences like skin colour or ice cream preference. It's that a whole lot of people at my church love college football, and I really really don't (there are many many other differences). And while I'm vocal about some passions, they are vocal about totally different ones. Now I don't want to get up in their business about what they're vocal about, and what they're not-it's them, I'm me-they don't need to like and talk about everything that I like and talk about. Whatever, you know. I'm just trying to find an answer to the question in my heart....is it alright to leave a church not because anything they do is Unbiblical, but rather because you don't feel like you fit?
Here's the deal: I love worship, I love praise songs, I try to love hymns, but I really don't. They (generally) seem more like death-chants than songs to me. So I want a church where only (or at least more, and more passionate) praise songs are sung. I would also like to worship in a place where people feel free to worship however they want to, and aren't looked at like freaks if they clap their hands, raise their arms, or dance in joy throughout the service. I would like for their to be a church where Megan (my awesome, yet very conservative, and less um...boisterous (annoying) ) friend would not feel weird for worshipping her way, and I would not feel weird for worshipping my way (which are probably very different ways considering we're just about opposites ;). I just don't think God made me the way I am so that I'd stick out like a sore thumb at my church.
I still have no answer, and that's cool. I know God wants me at Covenant Presbyterian right now, because that is where my Dad and Mom want me. The actual decision making comes later. For now, I'm just thinking, and praying, and all that.
Lydia
(Congratulations on making it through the longest post ever)
Friday, September 24, 2010
I'm in quite the funk. That's not quite the right phrase, but it will have to do.
I've been thinking a lot about life in the future lately. This is prompted quite a bit by my parents and my own general need to know what I'm going to do with my life. Most people probably would say now is the best time to be thinking about it. I like thinking about what I want to do with my life. Or should I say, I used to enjoy that. Now, at this point in my life, it seems like whatever I choose, determines how my life plays out. That scares me beyond imagination. I don't know what I want for my life anymore.
I'm scared that if I go to college right after high school (which is the "right" thing to do), I'll never be able to travel, do the things I've dreamed of, and really live. I'm terrified of living an "average" life the rest of my life. I don't mean that living a life much like average Americans is aweful...I just don't have a desire for that anymore.
I so badly want to go and be on my own in a place where I know no one or know very few people. I want to dive head on into different cultures. I want to experience life.
I want to go and share the love of Christ with people.
I don't want to be here.
I don't know how to do this. I don't even know where I want to start out at. I don't know how I would even afford all of this. But, I do know this: I do not want to go through my life not doing what I have always wanted to do; and then wake up one day, wrinkled and bent with age and regret not living to it's fulness the life which God has given me.
Brianna
I've been thinking a lot about life in the future lately. This is prompted quite a bit by my parents and my own general need to know what I'm going to do with my life. Most people probably would say now is the best time to be thinking about it. I like thinking about what I want to do with my life. Or should I say, I used to enjoy that. Now, at this point in my life, it seems like whatever I choose, determines how my life plays out. That scares me beyond imagination. I don't know what I want for my life anymore.
I'm scared that if I go to college right after high school (which is the "right" thing to do), I'll never be able to travel, do the things I've dreamed of, and really live. I'm terrified of living an "average" life the rest of my life. I don't mean that living a life much like average Americans is aweful...I just don't have a desire for that anymore.
I so badly want to go and be on my own in a place where I know no one or know very few people. I want to dive head on into different cultures. I want to experience life.
I want to go and share the love of Christ with people.
I don't want to be here.
I don't know how to do this. I don't even know where I want to start out at. I don't know how I would even afford all of this. But, I do know this: I do not want to go through my life not doing what I have always wanted to do; and then wake up one day, wrinkled and bent with age and regret not living to it's fulness the life which God has given me.
Brianna
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Seeing how I got done with school early today, and I don't have to work for another hour or so, I thought I would take some time to quickly describe our links (the pink words down to the right).
Cliffsnotes: Hopefully every one knows what this one is, because it is so great. So great.
Emmanuel Jal Merch: This is the new-ish website that the rapper and former child soldier Emmanuel Jal has built for the selling of T-shirts and jewelry to benefit the school he is building somewhere in Southern Sudan.
Kylie's Flickr: This is a link to a friend's flickr. She's a photographer, and yeah, she has a gift. Brianna and I both love her and her work.
Samaritan's Purse: This one takes you to the website of that awesome ministry that is always where the disaster is. They provide relief aid for people everywhere.
TOMS shoes: I hope you all know what this one is too...it's the website where you can buy TOMS shoes for yourself and for some random shoeless child!
I can't resist putting this quote up. I like it very much:
"Rather than giving us the details of depraved acts, good art can reveal the depraved heart through well written stories, enlightening us to the evil we may find within ourselves. We learn nothing by being made aware of the details of sexual acts or rape. We do learn by the ruinous effects of pride, bitterness, anger, and yes, even lusts, that can be shown without the lurid details."
-Wayne Wilson
Lydia
Cliffsnotes: Hopefully every one knows what this one is, because it is so great. So great.
Emmanuel Jal Merch: This is the new-ish website that the rapper and former child soldier Emmanuel Jal has built for the selling of T-shirts and jewelry to benefit the school he is building somewhere in Southern Sudan.
Kylie's Flickr: This is a link to a friend's flickr. She's a photographer, and yeah, she has a gift. Brianna and I both love her and her work.
Samaritan's Purse: This one takes you to the website of that awesome ministry that is always where the disaster is. They provide relief aid for people everywhere.
TOMS shoes: I hope you all know what this one is too...it's the website where you can buy TOMS shoes for yourself and for some random shoeless child!
I can't resist putting this quote up. I like it very much:
"Rather than giving us the details of depraved acts, good art can reveal the depraved heart through well written stories, enlightening us to the evil we may find within ourselves. We learn nothing by being made aware of the details of sexual acts or rape. We do learn by the ruinous effects of pride, bitterness, anger, and yes, even lusts, that can be shown without the lurid details."
-Wayne Wilson
Lydia
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The taste made the love, and the love made the lack. The forbidden made the passion, and the poverty. The poverty made the love leave the life. The delight was prohibited so the taste was lost. The life tore them apart, so the love became nothing. When the love became nothing, the passion was no more a thought. The love first brought the poverty, but the poverty broke the belief. The belief was really how it all began, but the forbidden bit back, and the belief did not last long against something so terrible. The passion was then gone as was the love and they did not know what to do, because the love had made the life. The lack of life then made them the lost, and the lost no longer believed.
Lydia
Lydia
Monday, September 13, 2010
As I post this, I find myself blundering through the budding stage of my very own quest for simplicity. This quest has kind of snuck up on me. I didn't really recognize it until last night. The symptoms, though, have been showing themselves here and there(in me), for a while.
I'm finding myself day-dreaming and dreaming less about urban life, and more about foresty places, and country hostels.
I keep cleaning my desk and closet out over and over, searching for more stuff to get rid of.
I feel claustrophobic in my heavily-decorated room.
I've started to avoid buying new stuff.
Sleeping outside is becoming a habit.
I hardly listen to music in the car anymore.
I spend all the time I can outside.
I'm not following any shows this season (though that will change as soon as The Office comes back on, I must admit).
When I watch TV, it is often muted, and after periods of an hour or two, I get tired of it.
The sky and the ocean are on my mind a whole lot. (Think about how simple they are: just blue, and big, both of them).
A few days ago, I read something on someone's blog about simplicity, and how that is what we (church people) miss most after mission trips, and religious retreats. That article helped me recognize this growing desire in myself. I no longer want to be busy all the time. I want to take it slow, and have time to talk, think, and dream. I love finding places like that around me now, but I really would like to go somewhere so beautiful, and so unfamiliar that it scares, shocks, and excites me all at once.
Just some silly thoughts.
Lydia
I'm finding myself day-dreaming and dreaming less about urban life, and more about foresty places, and country hostels.
I keep cleaning my desk and closet out over and over, searching for more stuff to get rid of.
I feel claustrophobic in my heavily-decorated room.
I've started to avoid buying new stuff.
Sleeping outside is becoming a habit.
I hardly listen to music in the car anymore.
I spend all the time I can outside.
I'm not following any shows this season (though that will change as soon as The Office comes back on, I must admit).
When I watch TV, it is often muted, and after periods of an hour or two, I get tired of it.
The sky and the ocean are on my mind a whole lot. (Think about how simple they are: just blue, and big, both of them).
A few days ago, I read something on someone's blog about simplicity, and how that is what we (church people) miss most after mission trips, and religious retreats. That article helped me recognize this growing desire in myself. I no longer want to be busy all the time. I want to take it slow, and have time to talk, think, and dream. I love finding places like that around me now, but I really would like to go somewhere so beautiful, and so unfamiliar that it scares, shocks, and excites me all at once.
Just some silly thoughts.
Lydia
Friday, September 10, 2010
I've attended two services at an Anglican church this week, and it's been interesting. Their music was absolutely wonderful. Here are a couple of lines from the praise songs:
"Break my heart for what breaks Yours."
I love that line so much. It's like the perfect summary of true friendship.
"Oh, He is jealous for me. He loves like a hurricane. I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His love and mercy..."
I want to paint that one, but I'm afraid the lyric is just too awesome, and me painting it might mess it up.
Lydia
"Break my heart for what breaks Yours."
I love that line so much. It's like the perfect summary of true friendship.
"Oh, He is jealous for me. He loves like a hurricane. I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His love and mercy..."
I want to paint that one, but I'm afraid the lyric is just too awesome, and me painting it might mess it up.
Lydia
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
This is my side of the story. I'm going to start with this and stop in the middle around where Lydia's story and mine converge.
Sunday night around 6:44 I got a text from Emily, saying "Everyone please pray! My non has fallen and isn't breathing they're taking her to the hospital. This is serious! Please pray!" This message was sent at 6:44. I saw the text read it, re-read it and decided it was in fact about Emily's mom. I prayed. I prayed hard, and fast.
I went about changing my clothes, because I was going out to meet my dear friend Meghan. I walked out of my room grabbed my keys and was saying to good-bye to everyone. As I was getting ready to leave I quickly told my mother, almost as an afterthought, about the text from Emily. She immediately stopped what she was doing and prayed aloud with me for Mrs. Sample, and their family.
I got on the road. I drove up to the interstate until I got to my exit where I came to a light, that was red. I checked my phone hoping to hear something from Emily. There was a text. "My mom died today. Please pray for my family." So many things went through my head, so many thoughts, so many feelings. I sat there at that light and just cried.
When the light changed I drove and parked in a parking lot for like 10 minutes and just cried and prayed and tried to think. When I finally got to Meghan's house, I was holding it together, but as soon as I saw her, I burst into tears and she held me. And I cried.
Rather than immediately leave her house, we went and talked for a little bit and then once I was not crying and was sober we left her house and went to my place of work for a smoothie. I needed to clear my head and process, but I needed a distraction. It just couldn't be true.
I kept waiting and waiting to hear from Lydia, I couldn't contact her. When we got there, we went inside (me with big red eyes) and just sat for a little bit. I got up to go to the bathroom, and to talk with one of my co-workers, who I just happen to get along with so well. I told him what happened, and he just held me for a moment. He felt my pain, even if it was just some of the pain, for just a moment.
While we were there, Meghan and I just sat and talked and talked about the whole situation. And we had times of just silence. I was waiting. Waiting to hear something else. And then came the wave, the wave of texts and phone calls.
Finally, I heard from Lydia. She called me, and I ran outside and sat on the porch and we talked, we mostly cried and cried and cried. But we talked some also. We hung up, and she got in contact with some other people trying to figure out if we should meet up at the hospital or not. While she was figuring it all out, my dad called. He wanted to make sure what they had heard was true. It was, and I was hurting so badly. He asked me what I wanted to do, and I just said I don't know. I really don't know. Lydia called, and said that people were meeting at the hospital to pray with the family, and after much deliberation I decided to go. I didn't want to be just one more person there, but I wanted to be there for my dear Emily. My dad met me and drove me there.
The first person I saw was an old friend of mine, Gloria. As soon as she saw me she ran to me and we wept and held eachother. I was waiting to see Lydia, so we could go to Emily together. As soon as Lydia was there we held eachother and cried. We pulled ourselves together just a little bit and entered the hospital Chapel.
Tis something I will never forget, ever. When we entered the chapel, there were quite a few people in there. Everyone was surrounding Emily and her father. People were praying with their hands outstretched to God and tears were flowing from everyones eyes. It was quite. So very quiet. Everyone was silent, but their pastor (or who I'm assuming was their pastor). He was praying aloud for their family. It was beautiful.
This is about where everything became the same for Lydia and I. I will say this, never have I hugged nor told so many people how I cared for them, than on this night. We all were feeling one way. Heavy and hurting.
Sunday night around 6:44 I got a text from Emily, saying "Everyone please pray! My non has fallen and isn't breathing they're taking her to the hospital. This is serious! Please pray!" This message was sent at 6:44. I saw the text read it, re-read it and decided it was in fact about Emily's mom. I prayed. I prayed hard, and fast.
I went about changing my clothes, because I was going out to meet my dear friend Meghan. I walked out of my room grabbed my keys and was saying to good-bye to everyone. As I was getting ready to leave I quickly told my mother, almost as an afterthought, about the text from Emily. She immediately stopped what she was doing and prayed aloud with me for Mrs. Sample, and their family.
I got on the road. I drove up to the interstate until I got to my exit where I came to a light, that was red. I checked my phone hoping to hear something from Emily. There was a text. "My mom died today. Please pray for my family." So many things went through my head, so many thoughts, so many feelings. I sat there at that light and just cried.
When the light changed I drove and parked in a parking lot for like 10 minutes and just cried and prayed and tried to think. When I finally got to Meghan's house, I was holding it together, but as soon as I saw her, I burst into tears and she held me. And I cried.
Rather than immediately leave her house, we went and talked for a little bit and then once I was not crying and was sober we left her house and went to my place of work for a smoothie. I needed to clear my head and process, but I needed a distraction. It just couldn't be true.
I kept waiting and waiting to hear from Lydia, I couldn't contact her. When we got there, we went inside (me with big red eyes) and just sat for a little bit. I got up to go to the bathroom, and to talk with one of my co-workers, who I just happen to get along with so well. I told him what happened, and he just held me for a moment. He felt my pain, even if it was just some of the pain, for just a moment.
While we were there, Meghan and I just sat and talked and talked about the whole situation. And we had times of just silence. I was waiting. Waiting to hear something else. And then came the wave, the wave of texts and phone calls.
Finally, I heard from Lydia. She called me, and I ran outside and sat on the porch and we talked, we mostly cried and cried and cried. But we talked some also. We hung up, and she got in contact with some other people trying to figure out if we should meet up at the hospital or not. While she was figuring it all out, my dad called. He wanted to make sure what they had heard was true. It was, and I was hurting so badly. He asked me what I wanted to do, and I just said I don't know. I really don't know. Lydia called, and said that people were meeting at the hospital to pray with the family, and after much deliberation I decided to go. I didn't want to be just one more person there, but I wanted to be there for my dear Emily. My dad met me and drove me there.
The first person I saw was an old friend of mine, Gloria. As soon as she saw me she ran to me and we wept and held eachother. I was waiting to see Lydia, so we could go to Emily together. As soon as Lydia was there we held eachother and cried. We pulled ourselves together just a little bit and entered the hospital Chapel.
Tis something I will never forget, ever. When we entered the chapel, there were quite a few people in there. Everyone was surrounding Emily and her father. People were praying with their hands outstretched to God and tears were flowing from everyones eyes. It was quite. So very quiet. Everyone was silent, but their pastor (or who I'm assuming was their pastor). He was praying aloud for their family. It was beautiful.
This is about where everything became the same for Lydia and I. I will say this, never have I hugged nor told so many people how I cared for them, than on this night. We all were feeling one way. Heavy and hurting.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Here's (my side of) the story:
Yesterday (Sunday) evening I got home around 6:40 p.m.* Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary were over for dinner. I checked my phone at 8:15. I opened a message from Emily (sent at 6:49) that said "My non has fallen and is not breathing. This is serious! Please pray!" I thought she was talking about her grandma because of the "non" part. But then I saw a whole bunch of other messages from friends asking if it was really true. I knew it was Mrs. Sample at that point, but was in denial. It couldn't be. I then read a message from Emily that said "My mom died today. Please pray for my family". Still I denied it in my heart. I called Brianna. The moment we confirmed the truth we started crying and trying to wrap our minds around it. I cried harder than I have ever cried over someone's death.
I then went out and told my family. I was so choked up I could barely say the words: "Mrs. Sample died about an hour ago". We shared a family hug as we all cried. Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary left.
I went back to my phone and texted other friends to let them know.
I then faced the decision of whether or not to go to the hospital. I called Molly-another of Emily's best friends. She said to come if I felt like I should. I had heard about a lot of other people who were going and was afraid Emily felt crowded. I decided not to go.
At 8:40 I got a text from Emily that said: "Lydia, I need to talk to you." I literally ran out of my room and got in the car. That was the most touching thing anyone has ever said to me. There is no feeling like that of being wanted and needed. Dad drove me to Baptist Health. Emily was in the chapel with her dad, friends, and church family when I got there. I went in and sat on a back row. Molly gestured me towards the front. I went to where Emily was. She stood up and embraced me. I am never going to forget that moment. It was what our relationship is all about. I was there for her. She felt my love for her, and I felt like I couldn't give enough. I held her and told her I loved her.
A few minutes later we all moved out of that room. I got to hug many friends who I hadn't seen in some time. God was there.
Brianna, our dads, and I went to Kroger and got all of Emily's favorite snacks as well as food and drink for the friends and family on their way to the Sample home.
We rushed through that and I actually saw an old friend working at Kroger. Another hug.
When we got to the Sample's home, all of Emily's girl friends had her on the couch laughing. She hadn't forgotten; she'll never forget-but she was distracted for the moment. For a moment it was like all the parties we have had in her living room. After she had eaten and chilled for a while, I asked her and Brianna if we could go upstairs to pray, since Brianna's dad needed to leave. So we sat on Emily's bed, held hands, and prayed. At that point I was mostly out of tears, but we cried a little bit as we prayed for traveling mercies and everything else that needed to be prayed for. We then embraced once more and left.
Today (Monday), I called Brianna when I woke up. We both had pounding heads, and huge, red eyes. We didn't know what to do.
I felt led to visit Madison, (another of Emily's closest friends-she's known Mrs. Sample since at least second grade. She is also one of my closest friends.) so I did. I go to Madison's house often and find it a very comforting place. Her parents really care about my life, and help me with Chemistry, etc. I went there to be comforted, and to comfort Madison. I wanted to see someone who was feeling what I was feeling. I am very glad I went. Mrs. Gladden told me more great things about Mrs. Sample, including: "She was one of my best friends, and I don't even know who her best friend was. She poured herself into others."
I left Madison's late this afternoon with more confirmation in my heart than ever before. So I cried as I drove down the Boulevard. I stopped at Tropical Smoothie to see Brianna. We hugged and I left-I had to get home before 5p.m.
Here I am. I felt like typing this all up would give me even more confirmation. I'm searching for rest in my heart. I am almost there, but I know Emily isn't. It will take her much longer. It was her mother. So I am praying for her and Mrs. Sample's soul mate, Stephen, along with all the other family, and us: Emily's friends, as we watch her hurt. And as we each hurt as well.
There is a tattoo on my heart that says "Love Well-MHS", because Mary H Sample loved well, and I want to love like her.
Lydia
*I'm not completely sure about most of these times, I apologize.
Yesterday (Sunday) evening I got home around 6:40 p.m.* Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary were over for dinner. I checked my phone at 8:15. I opened a message from Emily (sent at 6:49) that said "My non has fallen and is not breathing. This is serious! Please pray!" I thought she was talking about her grandma because of the "non" part. But then I saw a whole bunch of other messages from friends asking if it was really true. I knew it was Mrs. Sample at that point, but was in denial. It couldn't be. I then read a message from Emily that said "My mom died today. Please pray for my family". Still I denied it in my heart. I called Brianna. The moment we confirmed the truth we started crying and trying to wrap our minds around it. I cried harder than I have ever cried over someone's death.
I then went out and told my family. I was so choked up I could barely say the words: "Mrs. Sample died about an hour ago". We shared a family hug as we all cried. Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary left.
I went back to my phone and texted other friends to let them know.
I then faced the decision of whether or not to go to the hospital. I called Molly-another of Emily's best friends. She said to come if I felt like I should. I had heard about a lot of other people who were going and was afraid Emily felt crowded. I decided not to go.
At 8:40 I got a text from Emily that said: "Lydia, I need to talk to you." I literally ran out of my room and got in the car. That was the most touching thing anyone has ever said to me. There is no feeling like that of being wanted and needed. Dad drove me to Baptist Health. Emily was in the chapel with her dad, friends, and church family when I got there. I went in and sat on a back row. Molly gestured me towards the front. I went to where Emily was. She stood up and embraced me. I am never going to forget that moment. It was what our relationship is all about. I was there for her. She felt my love for her, and I felt like I couldn't give enough. I held her and told her I loved her.
A few minutes later we all moved out of that room. I got to hug many friends who I hadn't seen in some time. God was there.
Brianna, our dads, and I went to Kroger and got all of Emily's favorite snacks as well as food and drink for the friends and family on their way to the Sample home.
We rushed through that and I actually saw an old friend working at Kroger. Another hug.
When we got to the Sample's home, all of Emily's girl friends had her on the couch laughing. She hadn't forgotten; she'll never forget-but she was distracted for the moment. For a moment it was like all the parties we have had in her living room. After she had eaten and chilled for a while, I asked her and Brianna if we could go upstairs to pray, since Brianna's dad needed to leave. So we sat on Emily's bed, held hands, and prayed. At that point I was mostly out of tears, but we cried a little bit as we prayed for traveling mercies and everything else that needed to be prayed for. We then embraced once more and left.
Today (Monday), I called Brianna when I woke up. We both had pounding heads, and huge, red eyes. We didn't know what to do.
I felt led to visit Madison, (another of Emily's closest friends-she's known Mrs. Sample since at least second grade. She is also one of my closest friends.) so I did. I go to Madison's house often and find it a very comforting place. Her parents really care about my life, and help me with Chemistry, etc. I went there to be comforted, and to comfort Madison. I wanted to see someone who was feeling what I was feeling. I am very glad I went. Mrs. Gladden told me more great things about Mrs. Sample, including: "She was one of my best friends, and I don't even know who her best friend was. She poured herself into others."
I left Madison's late this afternoon with more confirmation in my heart than ever before. So I cried as I drove down the Boulevard. I stopped at Tropical Smoothie to see Brianna. We hugged and I left-I had to get home before 5p.m.
Here I am. I felt like typing this all up would give me even more confirmation. I'm searching for rest in my heart. I am almost there, but I know Emily isn't. It will take her much longer. It was her mother. So I am praying for her and Mrs. Sample's soul mate, Stephen, along with all the other family, and us: Emily's friends, as we watch her hurt. And as we each hurt as well.
There is a tattoo on my heart that says "Love Well-MHS", because Mary H Sample loved well, and I want to love like her.
Lydia
*I'm not completely sure about most of these times, I apologize.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Oh...I do not know how to face this, but before I say what I am going to say, I just want to make it clear that though everyone always speaks well of the dead, all I say right now, I say in sincerity. Every word I here breath is truth; wonderful and terrible as it all is. And I said it when Mrs. Sample was alive too.
A woman who was like Jesus went to be with Him today. She was very young and full of love. Many good things are to be said of her, but the greatest from my relationship with her is that her sin never touched me. There is no one else who I spent so much time with and whose sin touched me so little. I never heard her say a word in anger, or refuse someone's honest request. Her sin was small, and that was because Jesus was so big in her heart. She was one of my best friends' mother. Mrs. Sample lived the life of a Christian, and she has left the world a better place. She was the mother of three spectacular children, (I am actually only acquainted with her two girls, though all I have heard of her son is positive-I'm sure he's great.) two of whom have dedicated their lives to Christ and the mission field. (Emily is planning to follow in their foot steps.) I feel so honored to have known her. As I weep, my overwhelming emotions are 1) grief and sadness, and 2) thankfulness. I am so thankful that I knew her, so thankful that I always spoke kindly to her, and just recently told her how great I think she is. She was the kind of lady who it was easy to complement. It wasn't weird to tell her great she was, because her greatness (only through Christ) was so....so, big. Finally, I am SO thankful that she raised Emily the way she did. Emily and I challenge each other. Our two faiths are entertwined with-though not dependent upon-each other. This is the work of God: God used Mrs. Sample to indoctrinate Emily with the truth. Praise be. I long for the day that I get to see Emily and her mom together in Heaven, almost as much as I long for it for myself. Oh, to be in the presence of perfect love, and glory. Oh to see my Savior's face, with which Mrs. Sample was well acquainted, if you believe that loving another is truly seeing the face of God.
May those who mourn for her find peace knowing she loved well.
I am sure I will post about this more later, but for now, I need to sleep. And pray.
Lydia
A woman who was like Jesus went to be with Him today. She was very young and full of love. Many good things are to be said of her, but the greatest from my relationship with her is that her sin never touched me. There is no one else who I spent so much time with and whose sin touched me so little. I never heard her say a word in anger, or refuse someone's honest request. Her sin was small, and that was because Jesus was so big in her heart. She was one of my best friends' mother. Mrs. Sample lived the life of a Christian, and she has left the world a better place. She was the mother of three spectacular children, (I am actually only acquainted with her two girls, though all I have heard of her son is positive-I'm sure he's great.) two of whom have dedicated their lives to Christ and the mission field. (Emily is planning to follow in their foot steps.) I feel so honored to have known her. As I weep, my overwhelming emotions are 1) grief and sadness, and 2) thankfulness. I am so thankful that I knew her, so thankful that I always spoke kindly to her, and just recently told her how great I think she is. She was the kind of lady who it was easy to complement. It wasn't weird to tell her great she was, because her greatness (only through Christ) was so....so, big. Finally, I am SO thankful that she raised Emily the way she did. Emily and I challenge each other. Our two faiths are entertwined with-though not dependent upon-each other. This is the work of God: God used Mrs. Sample to indoctrinate Emily with the truth. Praise be. I long for the day that I get to see Emily and her mom together in Heaven, almost as much as I long for it for myself. Oh, to be in the presence of perfect love, and glory. Oh to see my Savior's face, with which Mrs. Sample was well acquainted, if you believe that loving another is truly seeing the face of God.
May those who mourn for her find peace knowing she loved well.
I am sure I will post about this more later, but for now, I need to sleep. And pray.
Lydia
Friday, September 3, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Seeing how it's a rainy day outside, and today is my first whole day at home this school year (that's pretty bad when you're homeschooled, and it is September, mind you.) what else would I be doing besides thinking about life. And yearning to write. It's simply in my nature, I can't deny it.
Anyway, I've been noticing how things go over and over. I'm rocking with the continual ebb and flow of life, and whereas it used to bore me, I am now loving it. I've started doing things that I did before, but haven't for a while. Like school, obviously, but also running (!!!!), and looking forward to the weekend, and seeing people who I didn't get to see over the summer. It's just crazy that before a year is up, I'll be starting all of this for the last time. After that last year, then I'll start something new. What I wonder is, will that which I start repeat and repeat, or will it be different every year, every day? I wonder how many different "pieces" of my life I will be able to discern, once I near the sunset of it all. Like, will there be my childhood, my young adulthood (high school, that is), and then everything else? Or will it all be separated by different events and changes? Maybe, just maybe, it'll be one chaotic, indescribable journey that takes me to the edge of God's love and back. I would like that.
It's a curious thing, this life, and every minute takes me closer to the rest of it. All I really know is that it is going to be good. So I'm excited. I hope that you are too. Excited about your life, I mean, not mine. Well feel free to be excited about mine too...haha.
Lydia
Anyway, I've been noticing how things go over and over. I'm rocking with the continual ebb and flow of life, and whereas it used to bore me, I am now loving it. I've started doing things that I did before, but haven't for a while. Like school, obviously, but also running (!!!!), and looking forward to the weekend, and seeing people who I didn't get to see over the summer. It's just crazy that before a year is up, I'll be starting all of this for the last time. After that last year, then I'll start something new. What I wonder is, will that which I start repeat and repeat, or will it be different every year, every day? I wonder how many different "pieces" of my life I will be able to discern, once I near the sunset of it all. Like, will there be my childhood, my young adulthood (high school, that is), and then everything else? Or will it all be separated by different events and changes? Maybe, just maybe, it'll be one chaotic, indescribable journey that takes me to the edge of God's love and back. I would like that.
It's a curious thing, this life, and every minute takes me closer to the rest of it. All I really know is that it is going to be good. So I'm excited. I hope that you are too. Excited about your life, I mean, not mine. Well feel free to be excited about mine too...haha.
Lydia
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Welcome, September!
Lydia: I am still coming to terms with summer being over. It just should not be. I've had a very full and fantastic summer, though, so it'll be a great one to always look back on. Anyway, this September, I am going to do well in school, and survive the stupid ACT. The end.
Brianna: This September, I will get a little more sleep...or at least try to sleep more. Lately, I've been running on fumes. It's not been pretty. I also will be needing pants for work. So, my goal is two find two pairs that I can wear to work. Whoop-de-do.
Lydia: I am still coming to terms with summer being over. It just should not be. I've had a very full and fantastic summer, though, so it'll be a great one to always look back on. Anyway, this September, I am going to do well in school, and survive the stupid ACT. The end.
Brianna: This September, I will get a little more sleep...or at least try to sleep more. Lately, I've been running on fumes. It's not been pretty. I also will be needing pants for work. So, my goal is two find two pairs that I can wear to work. Whoop-de-do.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Yes, and I will rejoice, 19 for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, 20 as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. 21 For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. 22 If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. 23 I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. 24 But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account. 25 Convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith, 26 so that in me you may have ample cause to glory in Christ Jesus, because of my coming to you again.
Philippians 1:18b-26
I came across this passage a while back while reading one night. I literally sat and read through these verses 5 times. Since then, I've read through here multiple times, and I'm still grappling with the meaning behind it all. You might say, of well, it's obvious what it means! I understand the literal meaning of it. What I'm working through is the personal revelation of what these words mean. These words have become really, quite powerful to me of late. Yes, I still don't fully "get" them, but I can say that they are working and moving in my heart.
As I was reading through this passage of scripture verse 21-26 really struck me. Paul was honestly dealing with these thoughts. Verses 22b-24 stood out to me because I could tell by the wording and the straight-forwardness of the tone that Paul meant this, he was really struggling with these thoughts, these words, these feelings. He wanted to be with Christ! Now!
I think as Christians, we all long to be with Christ. That's healthy, we need to feel that longing. Something that gets pushed to the side though is that while we are on this Earth, we are here to continue Christ's mission. We are here to help His kingdom flourish. So whether we live or die, we are for Christ. Christ should eminate from our entire being.
To live is Christ, and to die is gain. My hope is that for me to live, is Christ.
Brianna
Philippians 1:18b-26
I came across this passage a while back while reading one night. I literally sat and read through these verses 5 times. Since then, I've read through here multiple times, and I'm still grappling with the meaning behind it all. You might say, of well, it's obvious what it means! I understand the literal meaning of it. What I'm working through is the personal revelation of what these words mean. These words have become really, quite powerful to me of late. Yes, I still don't fully "get" them, but I can say that they are working and moving in my heart.
As I was reading through this passage of scripture verse 21-26 really struck me. Paul was honestly dealing with these thoughts. Verses 22b-24 stood out to me because I could tell by the wording and the straight-forwardness of the tone that Paul meant this, he was really struggling with these thoughts, these words, these feelings. He wanted to be with Christ! Now!
I think as Christians, we all long to be with Christ. That's healthy, we need to feel that longing. Something that gets pushed to the side though is that while we are on this Earth, we are here to continue Christ's mission. We are here to help His kingdom flourish. So whether we live or die, we are for Christ. Christ should eminate from our entire being.
To live is Christ, and to die is gain. My hope is that for me to live, is Christ.
Brianna
Saturday, August 28, 2010
"In the same way that the Pharisees thought they have killed Christ, and put His body in a dark grave, thinking He was gone forever, the [Council of Constance] who opposed John Wycliffe thought their symbolic act of disintering the "heretic" and throwing away his ashes would kill his memory among his followers. But as the Pharisees learned to their dismay, nothing could stop Jesus Christ, and nothing can stop the truth."
-John Foxe
"Why buy a moments ease at the expense of a miserable eternity?"
-Denisa (16 year old martyr)
-John Foxe
"Why buy a moments ease at the expense of a miserable eternity?"
-Denisa (16 year old martyr)
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