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

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

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

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

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

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.

...and so the annual Christmas road trip begins :)

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.

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;

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;

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!

"Can I play basketball?"
"No," said my father.

"Can I run?"
"Not well," said my stomach.

"Can I keep running?"
"No," said my feet.

"Can I ride my bicycle?"
"No," said one flat tire, one busted tire, and my back.

"Well, then, can I walk?"
And there is silence.

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.

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.

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