At the beginning of this month (April), we have decided to post one or two things each we want to do, to get, or to see happen in the upcoming month. This is going to be habitual. Enjoy our goals, desires and lighthearted banter, maybe even come up with your own goals.
Lydia: Well the week of April 5th-12th elections are going to be taking place in Sudan (Africa) that will determine whether or not Southern Sudan is going to become it's own nation. The Comprehensive Peace Agreement that was established between North and South Sudan is going to expire next July and peace really must be reached before then.
This beautiful country is balancing between more civil war (death, carnage) and peace, however fragile it may be. I want so much for peace to be established so that Sudanese babies may grow strong and Sudanese adults may rest, embrace their heritage, and raise their children.
On a lighter note and because I'm not that self-less, I want to soak up three days' worth of spring sunshine!
Brianna: Gao Zhisheng, he is a human rights lawyer in China. He has been missing for over a year. Until now, when he has contacted his family...he is alive. Someone's dad is alive. Someone's husband, someone's child...he is alive. This month my goal is to pray for the people like him who are missing and pray for the families who have lost their husband, father, child, etc. to this kind of thing.
Also, I'm going to blow bubbles at least once a week.
Brianna and Lydia
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Hey Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better.
Hey Jude, don't be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders
For, well you know, that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.
Hey Jude, don't let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her!
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
So let it out and let it in
Hey Jude, begin
You're waiting for someone to perform with
And don't you know that it's just you
Hey Jude, you'll do-
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her under your skin
Then you'll begin to make it better.....
Thank you, Mccartney and Lennon.
Lydia
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better.
Hey Jude, don't be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders
For, well you know, that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.
Hey Jude, don't let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her!
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
So let it out and let it in
Hey Jude, begin
You're waiting for someone to perform with
And don't you know that it's just you
Hey Jude, you'll do-
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her under your skin
Then you'll begin to make it better.....
Thank you, Mccartney and Lennon.
Lydia
I have come to the conclusion that sunshine is good for the soul. It is beautiful and brings warmth and joy to all right about now. Now, when the weather is wonderful.
Yesterday I was outside. I was outside for hours, and just sat. I sat with a friend, talk, drank sonic, and soaked up the sunshine (and Vitamin D). When I got home I felt refreshed--not just from the great fellowship--but also from being outside in the glory of God's creation, in the sun. I feel that meeting with God in His creation brings Him incredible joy!
I am thankful I can go outside, without any problems, and bask in the creation God has given to us. I am thankful I can meet with Him out in His creation...really that I can just meet Him anywhere. I am thankful I can go out and look as the creation and see my Creator in it.
Brianna
Yesterday I was outside. I was outside for hours, and just sat. I sat with a friend, talk, drank sonic, and soaked up the sunshine (and Vitamin D). When I got home I felt refreshed--not just from the great fellowship--but also from being outside in the glory of God's creation, in the sun. I feel that meeting with God in His creation brings Him incredible joy!
I am thankful I can go outside, without any problems, and bask in the creation God has given to us. I am thankful I can meet with Him out in His creation...really that I can just meet Him anywhere. I am thankful I can go out and look as the creation and see my Creator in it.
Brianna
Monday, March 22, 2010
Lydia has noticed in her life that the stingy people are the ones who lack while the generous rarely want. It could be that the stingy people are stingy because they lack and the generous are generous because they have plenty but she doubts it. Giving has much more to do with percentages than big numbers.
Brianna truly believes that everyone is able to give. From the smallest child giving their twenty-five cent allowance to the Salvation Army to the oldest person giving whatever they can to the lady who cleans their house. She claims that we are all able to give in some manner because it is something God has instilled in us. Whether we give a little or give a lot, either physically or emotionally, we can all give. The question is, will we choose to follow this part of ourselves?
Lydia and Brianna are sure that giving has to do with not only donating money but also sacrificing one's time and abilities. They want to be sure never to blow past someone who needs help; help at the grocery store, help at the park, or help at the coffeeshop. Stopping to hug a friend when you are running late is giving. Picking up a can of creamed corn that is rolling down the aisle instead of chuckling at the employee or customer chase it is giving. Adopting a child is giving. Paying for someone else's something instead of buying a new tote bag or CD is giving.
Brianna and Lydia have learned that buying each other gifts is much more fun than buying the same thing for themselves. These two have discovered that starting to give is the hardest part. Once one starts, though, it won't be so hard to stay in the habit of generosity for the rest of your life.
After you have practiced and practiced, you won't be able to let that can of creamed corn roll past, you won't want to bypass that friend in need of a hug. Once giving has become a normalcy in your life you won't get the same satisfaction from the CD or tote bag as you will from buying a stranger their coffee.
Give. Love. Share. Care. Sacrifice. Shmile*.
Brianna truly believes that everyone is able to give. From the smallest child giving their twenty-five cent allowance to the Salvation Army to the oldest person giving whatever they can to the lady who cleans their house. She claims that we are all able to give in some manner because it is something God has instilled in us. Whether we give a little or give a lot, either physically or emotionally, we can all give. The question is, will we choose to follow this part of ourselves?
Lydia and Brianna are sure that giving has to do with not only donating money but also sacrificing one's time and abilities. They want to be sure never to blow past someone who needs help; help at the grocery store, help at the park, or help at the coffeeshop. Stopping to hug a friend when you are running late is giving. Picking up a can of creamed corn that is rolling down the aisle instead of chuckling at the employee or customer chase it is giving. Adopting a child is giving. Paying for someone else's something instead of buying a new tote bag or CD is giving.
Brianna and Lydia have learned that buying each other gifts is much more fun than buying the same thing for themselves. These two have discovered that starting to give is the hardest part. Once one starts, though, it won't be so hard to stay in the habit of generosity for the rest of your life.
After you have practiced and practiced, you won't be able to let that can of creamed corn roll past, you won't want to bypass that friend in need of a hug. Once giving has become a normalcy in your life you won't get the same satisfaction from the CD or tote bag as you will from buying a stranger their coffee.
Give. Love. Share. Care. Sacrifice. Shmile*.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
The Colors of Faith (the end)
Wednesday 4:12 p.m.
Lowell gets home from school as quick as he can and races to the woods. He slows as he approaches the fence.
"Hey!" he calls happily. He leans against the fence but there is no reply to his call. "Hello?" He says louder. He looks around and, seeing no one, starts to panic. Disappointed thoughts bounce around his insides.
You should have known, Lowell. You should have known that she wasn't real. Just like before. You imagined again. Just like before!
These thoughts torment him and before too long he can't help but do what she told him to. The one thing she demanded of him in their long hours together:
"You aren't supposed to come over the fence. So please don't, okay?"
He jumped over in one fluid motion and ran straight into the woods. After several minutes of calling and searching, he finds her. She's leaning against a tree, dressed the same as the day before, but soaking wet. She starts violently when she hears him.
"Lowell?"
"Yeah, hey, what happened? Why are you wet?" He runs over to her and puts his hand on her shoulders. He feels her forehead. She feels feverish but doesn't show any other signs.
"You jumped over the fence." Her face is pale.
"Yes. I mean I had to find you," Lowell explains. She doesn't say anything, only grabs his arm and pulls him along. They reach the clearing that is split in two by the fence. She extends her arms in search of the wire. When she grasps it she pushes him in front of her.
"Go. Get over the fence again!" Her teeth chatter at the last word and he shakes his head.
"It's too late. Whatever is going to happen has happened, because I am over the fence." With that he pulls her to him, willing the warmth in his skin to transfer to her pale form. They sit down against a tree.
"You shouldn't have come today," she says finally.
"Nothing could have stopped me."
"Why is that?"
"Because I wanted to see you. I want to learn from you, you know. There is so much I can learn from you simply because you see everything so differently than me. And you...are beautiful." She looks at him incredulously.
"I'm beautiful?"
"Heck yeah." He smiles. She is quiet for a minute or two before declaring:
"This isn't my world?"
"Of course it is. You're here, aren't you?"
"I'm here but I don't understand it. I've been here but I haven't known. I haven't known that I am beautiful. I never knew that my hair is not dark. I never knew you. I have to go, Lowell. It's time for me to go back." She looks straight ahead and her words denote utter resolve.
"Well where will you be going?" Lowell manages to day.
"Back to where I came from. That is how I got wet, that is why my head is buzzing. I've been told that it's time for me to go. So go I must. A girl like me can't argue with something this big."
"You can't argue with what? What is it that came to you?"
"I don't know. I only know my feelings, and they haven't told me everything. I am a girl of faith and people of faith are always called upon to exhibit their faith. Now is my time, Lowell. this is my exhibition of faith."
"I'm going to wait with you then. So I can see what these feelings are all about," he says. She sighs. They sit and are silent for a while, then speak, then are silent again. All the while the sun does not change its position in the sky. Lowell pretends not to notice.
"I think you have to leave," she says eventually. "The sun hasn't moved at all. The night must be to stubborn to come while you remain here."
"How can I leave? You don't even know what is going to happen!" Lowell argues.
"We have to have faith. Did I not just tell you? That is what it takes."
"You have to understand that I want you here! That I want to help you."
"You can't help me, Lowell. It's going to happen. You can only decide how long I will have to wait."
"If it can't be changed then I suppose I must." They both stand. She puts a gentle hand on his chest and her eyes focus just over his shoulder.
"Thank you for teaching me about you. I think you are the reason I came here."
Lowell chews his bottom lip.
"You're welcome," he says.
They remain standing face to face. She leaves her hand on his chest, allowing him to be the one to sever the touch, to walk away. Finally he gathers the courgae to take a step back and his feet take over from there. They pick themselves up, one in front of the other. He begins moving faster without looking back. She's in his mind's eye: standing behind, watching him go. He shakes the image from his head and sprints across the golden field that borders her wood.
There is a silent outburst of white light. It comes up behind and sweeps over and beyond Lowell. He stops in his tracks and closes his eyes tightly. When he opens them they brim with tears. He continues through the high grass, letting his fingers brush lightly over the soft tops.
He breathes in, he breathes out.
Lydia
Wednesday 4:12 p.m.
Lowell gets home from school as quick as he can and races to the woods. He slows as he approaches the fence.
"Hey!" he calls happily. He leans against the fence but there is no reply to his call. "Hello?" He says louder. He looks around and, seeing no one, starts to panic. Disappointed thoughts bounce around his insides.
You should have known, Lowell. You should have known that she wasn't real. Just like before. You imagined again. Just like before!
These thoughts torment him and before too long he can't help but do what she told him to. The one thing she demanded of him in their long hours together:
"You aren't supposed to come over the fence. So please don't, okay?"
He jumped over in one fluid motion and ran straight into the woods. After several minutes of calling and searching, he finds her. She's leaning against a tree, dressed the same as the day before, but soaking wet. She starts violently when she hears him.
"Lowell?"
"Yeah, hey, what happened? Why are you wet?" He runs over to her and puts his hand on her shoulders. He feels her forehead. She feels feverish but doesn't show any other signs.
"You jumped over the fence." Her face is pale.
"Yes. I mean I had to find you," Lowell explains. She doesn't say anything, only grabs his arm and pulls him along. They reach the clearing that is split in two by the fence. She extends her arms in search of the wire. When she grasps it she pushes him in front of her.
"Go. Get over the fence again!" Her teeth chatter at the last word and he shakes his head.
"It's too late. Whatever is going to happen has happened, because I am over the fence." With that he pulls her to him, willing the warmth in his skin to transfer to her pale form. They sit down against a tree.
"You shouldn't have come today," she says finally.
"Nothing could have stopped me."
"Why is that?"
"Because I wanted to see you. I want to learn from you, you know. There is so much I can learn from you simply because you see everything so differently than me. And you...are beautiful." She looks at him incredulously.
"I'm beautiful?"
"Heck yeah." He smiles. She is quiet for a minute or two before declaring:
"This isn't my world?"
"Of course it is. You're here, aren't you?"
"I'm here but I don't understand it. I've been here but I haven't known. I haven't known that I am beautiful. I never knew that my hair is not dark. I never knew you. I have to go, Lowell. It's time for me to go back." She looks straight ahead and her words denote utter resolve.
"Well where will you be going?" Lowell manages to day.
"Back to where I came from. That is how I got wet, that is why my head is buzzing. I've been told that it's time for me to go. So go I must. A girl like me can't argue with something this big."
"You can't argue with what? What is it that came to you?"
"I don't know. I only know my feelings, and they haven't told me everything. I am a girl of faith and people of faith are always called upon to exhibit their faith. Now is my time, Lowell. this is my exhibition of faith."
"I'm going to wait with you then. So I can see what these feelings are all about," he says. She sighs. They sit and are silent for a while, then speak, then are silent again. All the while the sun does not change its position in the sky. Lowell pretends not to notice.
"I think you have to leave," she says eventually. "The sun hasn't moved at all. The night must be to stubborn to come while you remain here."
"How can I leave? You don't even know what is going to happen!" Lowell argues.
"We have to have faith. Did I not just tell you? That is what it takes."
"You have to understand that I want you here! That I want to help you."
"You can't help me, Lowell. It's going to happen. You can only decide how long I will have to wait."
"If it can't be changed then I suppose I must." They both stand. She puts a gentle hand on his chest and her eyes focus just over his shoulder.
"Thank you for teaching me about you. I think you are the reason I came here."
Lowell chews his bottom lip.
"You're welcome," he says.
They remain standing face to face. She leaves her hand on his chest, allowing him to be the one to sever the touch, to walk away. Finally he gathers the courgae to take a step back and his feet take over from there. They pick themselves up, one in front of the other. He begins moving faster without looking back. She's in his mind's eye: standing behind, watching him go. He shakes the image from his head and sprints across the golden field that borders her wood.
There is a silent outburst of white light. It comes up behind and sweeps over and beyond Lowell. He stops in his tracks and closes his eyes tightly. When he opens them they brim with tears. He continues through the high grass, letting his fingers brush lightly over the soft tops.
He breathes in, he breathes out.
Lydia
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
This is the story of St. Patrick:
http://www.theresurgence.com/Vintage_Saints_St_Patrick
This is the story of St. Patrick:
http://www.theresurgence.com/Vintage_Saints_St_Patrick
The Colors of Faith (part 3)
Wednesday 8:35 a.m.
Wednesday 8:35 a.m.
Lowell sleeps through his alarm and finds himself going straight to school. All the while he prays that she will be there after school.
"What is going on today, Lowell? You're acting weird." A fellow cross country team member says to him at lunch.
"I guess you could say it's a girl, Jim," Lowell replies with a small smile.
"A girl? Here at school?"
"No, I met her yesterday afternoon..." his voice trails off and he stares at nothing.
"Must be some girl," Jimmy says with a shake of his head. "At least tell me what she's like."
"She's...hard to explain."
"Try. Blonde or brunette?"
"Blonde." Lowell tosses his lunch sack into the garbage can. "She's different, Jim, really different."
Jimmy gives him a confused and disgusted sort of look.
"I do not understand...."
"It's like this: if she lived in our world she would love animals and dot her "I"s with hearts," Lowell responds. Then adds quietly: "But she's not from our world."
to be continued...
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Colors of Faith (continued)
"Hello...?" The girl asks hesitantly. Lowell looks around, and then looks back at the girl.
"Hi. I was just running and..." the boys voice drifts off as he sees her foggy eyes and realizes that she cannot see. Her eyes rest in his direction nonetheless.
"Were you following the fence?" She asks.
"Yeah, I guess so. I just wanted to go a little farther today.
"Why is that?" She wraps her arms around herself as a brisk wind floats past. He hesitates, but then steps closer.
"Small town life can be-er-constricting at times. I come out here to breathe."
"That's nice," she says. Lowell looks back through the curtain of trees and she asks him what his name is.
"Lowell. Yours?"
"I don't know." Lowell smiles, then chuckles so she'll know he found her "joke" amusing.
"No, really, I don't know my name yet." He examines her face, trying to understand someone so different.
"Really?"
"Really. Can I ask you a question, Lowell?"
"Shoot." Her brow furrows.
"Where did you come from? Just now I mean. What's over there?" She gestures to her right, over his shoulder. He looks at what she cannot see: the pine trees and their green needles, the brown needles that carpet the rustic floor. He thinks for a moment:
She can't see any of this. She can't see this fence, this wire barrier separating us, maybe even our worlds from one another. She can't see me.
"I came from over there, you are right. But I don't want to talk about that, okay? I want to talk about me; I want to talk about you. I want to know why you aren't afraid of me, why you don't wonder what I look like." She turns her face to the side and silvery-blonde strands of hair conceal the side of her pale face from him. She remains in this position for a moment before brushing her hair away and staring at him, again, in her own sightless way.
"I want to know about you; I want to know about me. The thing is, I want to know where I came from and I just thought that knowing where you came from would maybe help me discover where I came from." She pauses, then adds: "And I do wonder what you look like." They stand in silence. Then she reaches out her hands. "Show me." He steps up to the fence, grabs her hands and then places them on either side of his face. Her nose wrinkles.
"Why is it damp and slick?" She asks.
"I have been running. It's sweat," Lowell answers. Her lips tighten into a half smile. She feels the rest of his face gently.
"Is this your ear?"
"Yeah."
"And your hair?"
"Yep."
"What does it look like? Is it like mine?" She asks.
"Well it is considerably shorter and darker," he responds.
"Darker?" It takes him a moment to realize she needs an explanation.
"You know those moments you sometimes come across while walking outside? A sudden warmth on your skin?" She nods. "Your hair is like those moments; mine is like all the rest."
Lowell and the girl talk. They talk about life and his home and about songs and about beauty. At one point Lowell stops talking and starts thinking.
"I'm afraid," he admits.
"Why are you afraid? she asks. They sit back to back on opposite sides of the fence.
"Because I fear that you aren't real, that I'm making you up. What if I come back tomorrow and it turns out you are totally a figment of my imagination and I'm really a messed up guy with hallucinations." She doesn't respond. "You are the only person I have ever loved, the only person who has ever loved me. I never want to go back to the time before I had someone who cared. Before there was you."
She turns to face him and says:
"There's no way to prove my existence to you. I just know that I am not from your mind. I know that I exist outside of you. I do not know why or how, I just know that I do. So we will both have to have faith. There are a lot of people who love you, Lowell. They just haven't found you yet."
to be continued...
Lydia
"Hello...?" The girl asks hesitantly. Lowell looks around, and then looks back at the girl.
"Hi. I was just running and..." the boys voice drifts off as he sees her foggy eyes and realizes that she cannot see. Her eyes rest in his direction nonetheless.
"Were you following the fence?" She asks.
"Yeah, I guess so. I just wanted to go a little farther today.
"Why is that?" She wraps her arms around herself as a brisk wind floats past. He hesitates, but then steps closer.
"Small town life can be-er-constricting at times. I come out here to breathe."
"That's nice," she says. Lowell looks back through the curtain of trees and she asks him what his name is.
"Lowell. Yours?"
"I don't know." Lowell smiles, then chuckles so she'll know he found her "joke" amusing.
"No, really, I don't know my name yet." He examines her face, trying to understand someone so different.
"Really?"
"Really. Can I ask you a question, Lowell?"
"Shoot." Her brow furrows.
"Where did you come from? Just now I mean. What's over there?" She gestures to her right, over his shoulder. He looks at what she cannot see: the pine trees and their green needles, the brown needles that carpet the rustic floor. He thinks for a moment:
She can't see any of this. She can't see this fence, this wire barrier separating us, maybe even our worlds from one another. She can't see me.
"I came from over there, you are right. But I don't want to talk about that, okay? I want to talk about me; I want to talk about you. I want to know why you aren't afraid of me, why you don't wonder what I look like." She turns her face to the side and silvery-blonde strands of hair conceal the side of her pale face from him. She remains in this position for a moment before brushing her hair away and staring at him, again, in her own sightless way.
"I want to know about you; I want to know about me. The thing is, I want to know where I came from and I just thought that knowing where you came from would maybe help me discover where I came from." She pauses, then adds: "And I do wonder what you look like." They stand in silence. Then she reaches out her hands. "Show me." He steps up to the fence, grabs her hands and then places them on either side of his face. Her nose wrinkles.
"Why is it damp and slick?" She asks.
"I have been running. It's sweat," Lowell answers. Her lips tighten into a half smile. She feels the rest of his face gently.
"Is this your ear?"
"Yeah."
"And your hair?"
"Yep."
"What does it look like? Is it like mine?" She asks.
"Well it is considerably shorter and darker," he responds.
"Darker?" It takes him a moment to realize she needs an explanation.
"You know those moments you sometimes come across while walking outside? A sudden warmth on your skin?" She nods. "Your hair is like those moments; mine is like all the rest."
Lowell and the girl talk. They talk about life and his home and about songs and about beauty. At one point Lowell stops talking and starts thinking.
"I'm afraid," he admits.
"Why are you afraid? she asks. They sit back to back on opposite sides of the fence.
"Because I fear that you aren't real, that I'm making you up. What if I come back tomorrow and it turns out you are totally a figment of my imagination and I'm really a messed up guy with hallucinations." She doesn't respond. "You are the only person I have ever loved, the only person who has ever loved me. I never want to go back to the time before I had someone who cared. Before there was you."
She turns to face him and says:
"There's no way to prove my existence to you. I just know that I am not from your mind. I know that I exist outside of you. I do not know why or how, I just know that I do. So we will both have to have faith. There are a lot of people who love you, Lowell. They just haven't found you yet."
to be continued...
Lydia
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Colors of Faith
Tuesday 4:22 p.m.
I tie my shoes and go
I breathe in, I breathe out.
I feel my matted hair brush roughly against my forehead
I breathe in, I breathe out.
I stop thinking about what I'm doing and start wondering
I breathe in, I breathe out.
What am I doing here? Am I alone?
I breathe in, I breathe out.
This is the farthest I've ever gone. Have I gone too far?
I breathe in, I breathe out.
I slow and look around the serene wood
I breathe in, I breathe out.
And then I see her, but she does not see me
I breathe in, I breathe out.
to be continued....
Tuesday 4:22 p.m.
I tie my shoes and go
I breathe in, I breathe out.
I feel my matted hair brush roughly against my forehead
I breathe in, I breathe out.
I stop thinking about what I'm doing and start wondering
I breathe in, I breathe out.
What am I doing here? Am I alone?
I breathe in, I breathe out.
This is the farthest I've ever gone. Have I gone too far?
I breathe in, I breathe out.
I slow and look around the serene wood
I breathe in, I breathe out.
And then I see her, but she does not see me
I breathe in, I breathe out.
to be continued....
Sunday, March 14, 2010
"One of the greatest diseases is to be nobody to anybody." Mother Teresa
Are we such a self-aborbed people that we cannot even love someone, that we can't even care for someone? Just one person?! Imagine that for a moment.
Don't be so self-absorbed that you cannot see the hurt all around you. The pain in the world and the tears the flow freely all around us. This is a hurting world.
Be someone to somebody. Love someone. Give that person the love they so deeply desire. While no, it will not satisfy them like the incomprehendible love of the Father...they will see Him through your love and maybe will turn to Him. Give to that person selflessly. It is easy to say you can do this, but try it...you will realize it is hard. But it gets easier to love selflessly as time passes. Loving like this becomes part of you. This love pours out of you. It has a name. It originates from one source. It is Christ's love.
"For they will know we are Christians by our love." Love that pours out of our being toward all of His creation...that is Christian love. It looks beyond color, deformity, mentality, and morals--everything the world's love is based on. The world's love is not free. In order to win the world's love you have to line up with what it says to be right and true. How terrible to live where you cannot be you. Where you cannot be who God set you apart to be.
Love the widowed, the orphaned, the unloveable--love them like your life depended on it.
Brianna
Are we such a self-aborbed people that we cannot even love someone, that we can't even care for someone? Just one person?! Imagine that for a moment.
Don't be so self-absorbed that you cannot see the hurt all around you. The pain in the world and the tears the flow freely all around us. This is a hurting world.
Be someone to somebody. Love someone. Give that person the love they so deeply desire. While no, it will not satisfy them like the incomprehendible love of the Father...they will see Him through your love and maybe will turn to Him. Give to that person selflessly. It is easy to say you can do this, but try it...you will realize it is hard. But it gets easier to love selflessly as time passes. Loving like this becomes part of you. This love pours out of you. It has a name. It originates from one source. It is Christ's love.
"For they will know we are Christians by our love." Love that pours out of our being toward all of His creation...that is Christian love. It looks beyond color, deformity, mentality, and morals--everything the world's love is based on. The world's love is not free. In order to win the world's love you have to line up with what it says to be right and true. How terrible to live where you cannot be you. Where you cannot be who God set you apart to be.
Love the widowed, the orphaned, the unloveable--love them like your life depended on it.
Brianna
Saturday, March 13, 2010
North of Beautiful is a work of art. There is no other way to describe this book. It is a painting. A tapestry. A collage.Headley did an amazing job using similes and metaphors to impart the ideas of her characters and what they were going through. Not to mention that her characters were slightly exaggerated and romantic in an unusually comforting way.
The main character is an artist and Headley reflects this amazingly well in this seventeen-year-old's story. Just as the girl makes collages of different pictures linked together in various ways, so Headley crafts a geniously coordinated sequence of events linked by the desires all the characters have to understand and relate to those around them. The variety of the author's characters are equivalent to an artist's use of exotic colours that are completely different yet fit together like pieces in a puzzle.
This novel is a delightful picture of regret, independence, the desire to belong, all kinds of love, and true beauty.
I highly recommend. As does Brianna.
Lydia
Monday, March 1, 2010
Kinds of knowledge.
Somebody smart may be the person who can tell you the root of a word mentioned, who can date the events leading up to the founding of the U.S. , who knows twenty digits of Pi, who can convert six centimeters to inches in a flash. Then again the smart one could be the one who sees more than just a painting, the one who knows what colours go best together, the one who loves to take advice, the one who comforts where comfort is due, and leaves when it is time.
As far as I can see and fathom there are three kinds of knowledge: brain knowledge, head knowledge, and heart knowledge. The kind most applauded being the brain knowledge. The kind most underestimated, the head knowledge, and the kind of knowledge most misunderstood being that of the heart. Surely there are terms for each of these knowledges that I have yet to hear but I won't allow that to hinder my thoughts...so I'll define them the way they appear to me.
Brain knowledge is book learning: is the ability to understand the discoveries unearthed by those that have come before. It is reading a book and having a clear idea of the definition of each and every word therein. It is knowing what makes an engineer an engineer. These smarts equal progress, they equal long hours of study. Those who posses them are often those who can overcome all the lions of theory, but are found lacking when it comes to actual living.
Head knowledge is quick-wit, it is the ability to acurately predict the repercussions of one's actions and react to them. It is knowing how variables effect a situation-a real life state of affairs, that is, not a mathematic algorithm. It is seeing beyond the facts and facing the truth. It is manipulation. This intelligence equals accepting your weaknesses, and is often possessed by those who fail tests yet excel at life.
Heart knowledge is something different. It is understanding the feelings of another. It is looking for someone to bare one's soul to. It is balancing on the edge of our world, it is pounding on the door of moral revolution. It is looking for something more, it is believing in the afterlife. This knowledge requires living like it's your last day, finding beauty in ashes. Those who possess heart knowledge never hesitate before taking a leap of faith or falling into the arms of the unknown.
These three knowledges have formed and sculpted our world into the bustling hubbub of diversity that it is. Which knowledge do you possess? Will uncovering your "knowledge" be the key to revealing the map of your life? No. No, because they seem always to be united to closely to be picked apart.
Albert Einstein is a good example for this matrimony of difference. He most definetely possessed knowledge of the brain. He's said to have been an independent man yet he married (always an action that is in some way influenced by the heart). Even Einstein, arguably the smartest man ever, wasn't one-hundred percent brain knowledge.
Call me crazy but I always thought that Ghengis Khan (Mongolian horde-boss) was smart for being receptive to the views and discoveries of those he conquered. Unlike the Caesars, he knew his people weren't all-knowing and could learn from those cultures around them, even from the individuals he decided needed to die. Khan's head knowledge revealed to him that even though he was the biggest and the strongest, he wasn't the smartest.
The perfect example of heart knowledge is the example left us by Christ. The only man who has given it all up in return for nothing. He saw through the eye of his heart into the heart of those who were hurting and knew exactly what needed to be done. This man also exhibited the other two knowledges, further proving my point.
Everyone is a mixture, a combination of the three knowledges though one may be more detectable in a person than the other two. I think that everyone has some say in which knowledge they belong to, but mostly people are born with their knowledges engrained into their being. This is no excuse to keep from exploring another side of life. Don't think that your "kind of knowledge" can ever prevent you from searching for the knowledge you have yet to perceive inside of yourself.
That's what I see. Whether I see it through the eye of my brain, my head, or my heart I cannot say. Maybe this knowledge of mine will morph and change, maybe it will stay the same until the day I die. Again, who is to say?
Lydia
Somebody smart may be the person who can tell you the root of a word mentioned, who can date the events leading up to the founding of the U.S. , who knows twenty digits of Pi, who can convert six centimeters to inches in a flash. Then again the smart one could be the one who sees more than just a painting, the one who knows what colours go best together, the one who loves to take advice, the one who comforts where comfort is due, and leaves when it is time.
As far as I can see and fathom there are three kinds of knowledge: brain knowledge, head knowledge, and heart knowledge. The kind most applauded being the brain knowledge. The kind most underestimated, the head knowledge, and the kind of knowledge most misunderstood being that of the heart. Surely there are terms for each of these knowledges that I have yet to hear but I won't allow that to hinder my thoughts...so I'll define them the way they appear to me.
Brain knowledge is book learning: is the ability to understand the discoveries unearthed by those that have come before. It is reading a book and having a clear idea of the definition of each and every word therein. It is knowing what makes an engineer an engineer. These smarts equal progress, they equal long hours of study. Those who posses them are often those who can overcome all the lions of theory, but are found lacking when it comes to actual living.
Head knowledge is quick-wit, it is the ability to acurately predict the repercussions of one's actions and react to them. It is knowing how variables effect a situation-a real life state of affairs, that is, not a mathematic algorithm. It is seeing beyond the facts and facing the truth. It is manipulation. This intelligence equals accepting your weaknesses, and is often possessed by those who fail tests yet excel at life.
Heart knowledge is something different. It is understanding the feelings of another. It is looking for someone to bare one's soul to. It is balancing on the edge of our world, it is pounding on the door of moral revolution. It is looking for something more, it is believing in the afterlife. This knowledge requires living like it's your last day, finding beauty in ashes. Those who possess heart knowledge never hesitate before taking a leap of faith or falling into the arms of the unknown.
These three knowledges have formed and sculpted our world into the bustling hubbub of diversity that it is. Which knowledge do you possess? Will uncovering your "knowledge" be the key to revealing the map of your life? No. No, because they seem always to be united to closely to be picked apart.
Albert Einstein is a good example for this matrimony of difference. He most definetely possessed knowledge of the brain. He's said to have been an independent man yet he married (always an action that is in some way influenced by the heart). Even Einstein, arguably the smartest man ever, wasn't one-hundred percent brain knowledge.
Call me crazy but I always thought that Ghengis Khan (Mongolian horde-boss) was smart for being receptive to the views and discoveries of those he conquered. Unlike the Caesars, he knew his people weren't all-knowing and could learn from those cultures around them, even from the individuals he decided needed to die. Khan's head knowledge revealed to him that even though he was the biggest and the strongest, he wasn't the smartest.
The perfect example of heart knowledge is the example left us by Christ. The only man who has given it all up in return for nothing. He saw through the eye of his heart into the heart of those who were hurting and knew exactly what needed to be done. This man also exhibited the other two knowledges, further proving my point.
Everyone is a mixture, a combination of the three knowledges though one may be more detectable in a person than the other two. I think that everyone has some say in which knowledge they belong to, but mostly people are born with their knowledges engrained into their being. This is no excuse to keep from exploring another side of life. Don't think that your "kind of knowledge" can ever prevent you from searching for the knowledge you have yet to perceive inside of yourself.
That's what I see. Whether I see it through the eye of my brain, my head, or my heart I cannot say. Maybe this knowledge of mine will morph and change, maybe it will stay the same until the day I die. Again, who is to say?
Lydia
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