A few weeks ago I was at a friend's house for a party and some pizza. Shortly after I got there I noticed her turn the oven on and slip the pizza (in the boxes) into it. Less than ten minutes later she opens it to pull them out and smoke starts pouring from the mouth of the oven, then fire. There's five girls there. Two just stand at a distance and observe, one jumps around yelling about a fire extinguisher, one runs around grabbing glasses of liquid to dump on the mess, and I stand there knowing that there's a better way to deal with this, but that way eludes me. I simply join in the dashing of water and soda onto the pizza. The fire goes out and we laugh hysterically.
Looking back, I realize that the better way I was searching for was to close the oven and thus cut off the oxygen fueling the fire. Such an obvious answer, and if we had thought of it, both pizzas could have been saved. But we did not think of it. And that is OK. I think, in a crazy way, this story can be related to how things pan out in real life most of the time. When we have hindsight, we often see better ways to have done things, but that doesn't mean we should have done it that way. It just means that to our flawed minds, it looks better. I don't regret standing there wondering what to do as the two other girls jumped into action, or not asking her what the heck she was thinking by putting the cardboard boxes into the lighted oven. It's fine.

To be a peacemaker, you have to be at peace with yourself and the things you do.


I really believe that (just so far as we don't make peace with our sin). Sometimes we have to make decisions in a matter of minutes. What's best for us. What's best for others. Sometimes it doesn't turn out well, sometimes our decisions fix everything. But no matter what we do, how hard we regret, or how proud we are of the action we took, la la la la life goes on. Pages turn. Stuff ends. New things begin. It's hard but it's beautiful. Our spirits give us the strength to bounce back with renewed energy. That energy is freedom. Freedom to stary over, to try new things, to meet new people. To be open. Life is like a brook that bubbles past. We are little rocks that get stuck in it's currents and gulleys. The water shapes us, molds us. Our hearts are bruised by its racing fury. We float on again. All of this is God's work of sanctification in us, and it is perfect in spite of our blemishes.
Things never seem to end in this world. They just stop for a while....and then they are back, or something quite similar takes their place. Saying goodbye is only temporary. Bidding adieu won't last forever. God's plan is usually different than ours and it is always wonderful.



The End.




(for now at least :))



Lydia

And I said Oh My Lord, why am I not strong?
Like the wheel that keeps the traveller travelin' on
Like the wheel that will take me home.
~The Tallest Man on Earth

The struggles of life are so hard. They are difficult. Separation is difficult and painful...no matter what blessings you might try and see through it, it still does not alleviate the painful nature of the separation.

I know I am being hid beneath the Shadow of HIS wings. That is the comfort I am finding right now. Knowing that regardless of the situation and of whatever I may have done, He still loves me. He still cares for me with all of His being. He loves me. He protects me. He is my friend. He is enough.

Praise be for that.

Brianna

Sometimes I wonder if weather is a reflection of our deep inward feelings in a tangible way.

Thanksgiving sometimes seems like an exercise in apathy, and little more.

It's Thanksgiving week so me and my baby sister have had more time to hang out! We made this picture out of melted crayons yesterday, and managed to shut the power down for a minute (apparently 2 is too many blow dryers going at once;))! It's not the most beautiful thing that I have made, but we spent time together and that's what matters.

I <3 you, baby sis.

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. ~The Apostle Paul

Paul wrote this in a letter after telling the church in Corinth (Greece) that he had been struggling with a vice and had asked God three times to remove it (apparently, saying something 3 times in Greek is like shouting or writing it in italics). It was something terrible, perhaps physical, perhaps emotional. Whatever it was, Paul struggled with it for a long time, and he hated it, but through this he learned how to trust God more, as the passage above implies.
Now, I am not trying to make Paul's thorn seem less important or serious by comparing it to mine, but I am struggling with something hard now too. I REALLY doubt that it is worse or as bad as his was, but that does not mean it is easier to deal with. It's making everyday life more complicated, it's testing my patience and endurance, and it's making me question my dreams, and future plans. I have always thought that dreams are good things-they are gifts from God. Most of my dreams require the action that this thorn is taking away from me: to walk the hippy trail, to hitch hike across the U.S.A. with a true friend (sappy, I know, but a dream's a dream), to rescue Sudanese children from captivity. Is this thorn God's way of showing me that these are not the dreams He wants me to chase? Or is He just telling me to be patient, to bear the pain silently, and to look towards brighter tomorrows with fresh hope? He hasn't told me what it is yet. I do know, however, that His mercies are new every morning. I know that this pain is only temporary,and that though I may be weak physically, I can be strong spiritually.




Lydia

I'm at a stage in my life where all it seems I'm doing is figuring out stuff. I'm figuring out where I'm going to attend college in the fall. I'm trying to find scholarships so I can somehow afford school.

Honestly, it stresses me out. I'm so overwhelmed my it all. There are so many different sites to look at and so many things to fill out and try to write. I'm stuck in this stage where I'm paralyzed by all of this. I'm so scared that I won't get in where I want to go, and even if I do, that I won't be able to go there because I can't pay for it. Really, I think the later option is what scares me the most. I'm terrified of being stuck here. No, it's not like I hate where I am...I don't exactly. I just can not be here next year. The closest of my friends, the ones who share in my hearts desires and life goals, etc., they won't be here. I can not be here without them.

The three of us support one another while we're here. None of us want to stay here, and all of us share in the desire to serve somewhere in this world...mostly out of the states. Since we all have this singular desire, we all hold one another up.

This is partially why I don't want to be here. The closest of my friends are going to be out, doing something else, something they want and desire while I am stuck...stuck in the mundane in a place I have grown tired of. I know that sounds harsh...when I've tried to explain it before, I've gotten shocked expressions. I don't know how to put what I'm feeling in less-harsh words.

I just remain waiting on my Savior. Waiting to see where He will take all of this. I know it's all in His hands, and I need to rest in that. It's hard and I really struggle with that concept sometimes, but that's also just me needing to rely on Christ even more.

I am daily needing more and more of Christ. Nothing I do ever is enough. Praise God for His grace being more than enough.


Brianna

My parents paid for a photographer that we know to take my senior pictues a couple weeks ago. She did a great job. This one is my favorite because I love my worn out shoes .

I have an issue with keeping shoes forever. I don't want to let them go, I want to wear them until they disintegrate. Let me tell you why.

1) I don't want to waste. If the shoe fits-why buy another pair?

2) I can be picky about shoes and sometimes have trouble finding replacements that I like.

3) I love love love having shoes that tell my story. I love dirt and grime, and getting all messed up so that I can be cleaned again. I like seeing the threads in my shoes because, to me, that says "you've done something, Lydia. you've been places. you've worked hard." And in the end, that's what I want my life to say.

Walk on, Little Darling.

Your tears run down my shoulder.

It breaks my heart

Over and over.

I hate seeing you like this,

Knowing that it only gets harder.

You didn't know that all the bad in the world is so painful;

Adults do such a good job of hiding it.

It's not fair that no one warned you

It's not fair that that would not have helped.

Your tears fall onto my shoulder

My sweatshirt soaks them up.

I am watching you discover all the things that tore me up.

Not long ago, I was you.

I was the one with the tears in my eyes,

With my heart being split in two by a new,

A cruel feeling.

Death, pain, grief, turmoil,

It all paralyzes you.

Paralyzes your emotions,

Paralyzes your thoughts.

You have to go on.

You have to look up.

I am here for you forever

But I cannot take it all away.

Face the world with a rainbow in your heart.

Walk on, battered but not diminished.

Little darling, life is going to scar you.

It has distressed my body and soul in the same way.

Every one is going to hurt you,

Like Bob warns us,

You just have to decide who is worth it.

You're worth it to me

So tell me what you need to,

Keep hidden what you don't.

I am not looking for a good story.

I don't want to be in the middle of things.

Tell me when you need me

And I will be gone when you don't.

I will let you down

But in your heart you know that He won't.

So walk on, Little Darling.

Walk with your heart in His hands

And thrive.

Sure, we are young.
Yes, there are things we do not know or understand.
Of course life is going to be hard.
That does not give anyone a right to tell us we can't, to say that we must do a certain something.
Our lives are just that: our lives.
We have a right to make our own mistakes.
How will we learn if we never live?
Independence is hard, but it's something we all have a right to pursue.
Why do youcomplain as if life is a punishment?
Why do you act like you had nothing to do with making your life what it is?
I see, I know, I can tell.
Your decisions decide your destiny.
Maybe even your happiness.
Do not try and re-write your story through me.
Stifling us will not give you a second chance.
Only you can do that.

It's time for change; why shouldn't we want it?




Lydia

These are my new coloured pencils! I am so blessed to have the money to buy them for my own use. I'm working on a drawing for my Grandma's Christmas present! Shhhhh

"The Trip was to be an Odyssey in the fullest sense of the word, an epic journey that would change everything. He had spent the four previous years, as he saw it, preparing to fulfill an absurd and onerous duty: to graduate from college. At long last he was unencumbered, emancipated from the stifling world of his parents and peers, a world of abstraction and security and material excess, a world in which he felt grievously cut off from the raw throb of existence. He intended to invent an utterly new life for himself, one in which he would be free to wallow in unfiltered experience." -Into The Wild, by Jon Krakauer.

This quote is speaking of a guy named Chris McCandless (self-named Alex Supertramp), who I have recently added to my list of heroes. After he graduated from college, he took off in his car, and when it died, on foot, just to traipse around. To tramp the continent. He canoed to Mexico! He had great experiences (as well as near-death ones), and lived with nature, as a part of nature. Unfortunately, he died in 1992, but I still think most highly of him. He was tough, peace-loving, and a little out-there, like John the Baptist, Nelson Mandela or Mother Teresa. I like people like that. I hope to be a person like that.

"In reality, there is nothing more damaging to the adventorous spirit within a man than a secure future....The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun." -Alex Supertramp

Just thought I'd share one man's story that has truly inspired me to find a new and different sun every day!

Here's another bracelet pattern! I tried to make it more masculine for all the fellas out there :) email lydia.braceletsforchange@gmail.com to get yours!

People ask me what college I'm going to after high school.
They don't ask me what I want to do with my life.
They ask what college.
It's as if college is the object, not the life to be lived after it.
I don't understand.

People ask why I'm not just going for an art major.
As if that wouldn't be the easy thing.
They try and get their ideas for me in.
Make the things I'm considering seem less suitable.
This life has been given to me, not to them.
Lord love them,
He knows I do.
It's just hard to deal with people's assumptions for me when I'm dealing with 750 other things. Most unpleasant.

I want to go on a week long canoe trip.
I want to jump on a trampoline.
I want to swim the English channel, climb Mt. Everest, write a book.
I want to rescue little Albanian boys and girls from terrible, lifelong sex slavery.
I want to skinny dip in the Pacific, and splatter paint a house.
I long to take the hippie trail. From Europe to India;
From India to Nepal,
Back to Europe.

Even though I long to be free of the constraints put upon me by others,
by society in general,
I've gotta chill out.
I must breathe in.
And then out.
Drive the car a little bit to fast
with the music to loud.
Waiting on time
To carry me to freedom.
This is my life.
Now is the most important moment.
I don't want to waste it.





Lydia


Like a south bound train
Here's a song for leavin.
Don't you know that pain,
It's a part of the healin.

I really hate good-bye's.

Most people...most normal people...don't like having to let go and say good-bye to people. I am definitely this way. I hate it. I hate it like I hate death. We let people in, we submurge ourselves in the lives of people and allow them to have a deep part in our life, only to turn around one day and say good-bye, sometimes just for a season and other times for life.

Often-times our saying good-bye's are just for a short time. That's just what generally happens. I think the hardest good-bye's are the ones we say not knowing at all when we'll next see the person. The unknown is always scary. I have had to say goodbye to people this way several times this summer. It is so difficult. It's just hard. I find myself asking God why He's brought these people into my life only to take them away almost immediately. I know He's faithful, and I know there is a purpose to it...it doesn't make it any easier for me. I'm just grappling with my flesh and with my emotions...I'm being human.

I've always wondered why it hurts so much to say good-bye. I think I might actually know...maybe. It's because of love. It's because we pour into someone our love and we just love on them until we can't anymore. Then-POOF-they're gone. But, I do truly believe it's better to have loved until it hurts, than to not love at all. Yes, it doesn't make it any easier to say good-bye...but imagine how they feel being loved on. I know that if it were me, I want someone to love me without holding back anything.

Love until it hurts...and then love some more.

This is an example of the new bracelet I'm selling! Each button will be different and I found 4 different colours of hemp that I like and will be incorporating into different pieces of jewelry. $3 each, just like before.
Here's hoping that my Bracelets for Change line will raise some serious money once more. I'm headed for Jamaica again in January!

Shalom, friends.




Lydia

Summer's over, and how it flew by! My summer was a whirl wind of many different things: work outside, work inside, free work, and paid work. It had good moments, and bad. 82 days of being; a glimpse into what life is like on the other side of High School.
I was able to take advantage of a bunch of super fantastic oppurtunities such as: travel, teach a little girl how to read (!!!!), meet new people, help a fab old lady take care of her very special grandson, sell bracelets that I made to retailers, and just chill (a very little bit) with my ridiculously off the wall friends. So good.
And now, here I am: the end of the beginning. Finished with school on the first day of Senior year. Times change, and now is the time to hit the books, to return to academics, and to (hopefully) have more time to devote to art.
In the next few months I'll start calling colleges, and figuring fractions. It's time to read a lot, to glue a lot, to listen. It is time to spend time with the people I love, and will leave. It's time to have a steady schedule (sadface), and to make some really important decisions.
I'm buckleing down to face reality, and to bid adieu to life as I've always known it.

Now is the time,
Now is my time;
Now is really no different than all the other times, except for everything.

What is it about the ocean?

There's just something about the ocean that makes me want it, that stirs me up. I find myself drawn to it, daydreaming about it. When I step out near it, my emotional turbulence level immediately jerks upward. I feel like crying, and like laughing, but somehow, I also feel completely calm.

As I walked on the hard sand earlier tonight, the ocean's tide coming and going, it's breeze washing over me, I felt like a goddess...and a child. How is it that the ocean is so big, so truly mesmerizing, and yet so contradictory?

There was a sensation as though the oceans' hands were on me, running its' fingers through my hair, tracing the lines of my body. Just so, it played with my hair, pulled me here and there, as though I was its' child, and it wanted me to follow the same path it had chosen.

The ocean is so big that it houses its' own species: so beautiful that people drive for days to catch a glimpse, and so magnificent that an entire subculture is based around its' unique patterns and habits.

When I walk next to the ocean, I walk next to something frightening, something beautiful, something tremendous. It sings the world to sleep. It carasses the skin of children everywhere. The mountains, and valleys are impressive no doubt, but to me, the sea is the crowning glory of our galaxy. The moon shines over the entire ocean, highlighting the white caps. The sound of waves tumbling to shore lulls the people to sleep as we lay down, and embrace our natural rhythm.

At the end of the day, I followed the tide, and walked slowly beside my lover.

I'm home. Back from New York City, and slowing getting used to being at home and being back in my home routine. It's hard. I don't feel like I should be back. It seems like it's not right for me to be back and getting back to "life." But at the same time does feel good to be back. My heat is torn and my life has been wrecked, but that's only because of God. God's allowed me to be vulnerable, and allowed my heart to be changed. I've seen the change start, and I've seen Him change everything. My life's been put upside down, and I'm so excited to see where else He's going to take me.

Brianna

Brianna is gone...but I'm back. It's uncool being gone at different times, yet it was nice to come back, and hang a little before she left to do her part.
I'm really excited for her. Like, more excited than I've been since Jamaica 2011. I've grown up going on short term mission trips, but this is a first for her. I know that I love them, and basically always have. I think it's her turn to discover the beauty of them. It's gonna be hard, I know, but I can already imagine her walking away from this adventure with so much more. Growth, knowledge, love, it's all inevitable on trips like these. Truly inevitable.
We owe these wonderful oppurtunities to our parents, our church families, and our God. Mission trips remind us how big the story that the Lord has invited us to join in the telling of really is, and it's an eye-opening reminder every time. We are small. God is big.





Lydia


P.S. That was Mrs. P, Brianna's mom, on the last post. Hahahahahaha!

Happy 4th of July

Happy 4th of July, Brianna and Lydia!

Tomorrow I'm headed for New York City. I'll be gone for 2 weeks.

This experience I know will be wonderful...truth be told I have no idea what to expect and a little nervous--but I'm excited. Prayers please!

See you in 2 weeks!


Brianna

Well I have been back for a few days now...and the trip was fantastic. Really just great. The first half of the week (10 days, actually) was probably one of the most challenging periods of my life, but I feel like I walked away from it knowing more of God than I did before. And that's all I really want from life. More of my God and Saviour.

What the Native people of this country have been forced through is a tragic story, and there's many ways to look at it. You can look at this people as a race with their own culture that's been ripped away from them, who have been left with nothing but some land. You can look at it as a race of people who may have gotten the bad end of a deal hundreds of years ago, but should get over it.

The way I look at it though, is that there's a group of people who have been wronged as a race, who are generally living below the poverty line, and who haven't been shown the Gospel in the right way. I believe that it's my duty as a Christian to help them. That's really it. I don't really care what anyone thinks about the situation, so long as they try to help.

I think I remember how to do this. It has been ages, and for this I do apologize.

Life right now has been crazy. This past week was as crazy busy as I think I have ever been. And I'm standing in front of my upcoming week slightly scared, because it has the potential to be almost as busy. Lord give me strength.

I've been learning a lot right now about God, people, where I'm at in life, etc. I just have to say how incredible it is to look at what's going on and just see God working.

God provided for Lydia's missions trip, and as I write this, she's in Washington state on a Native American Reservation. The way God provided for her trip is incredible in and of itself. God has provided for her not only financially, but by providing just the right type of trip. This was exactly what Lydia wanted. I cannot wait to hear all of her stories and see all her pictures. Pray for her this week as she's far from home serving these beautiful people.

Not only has He provided for Lydia's trip, but also for my missions trip to New York City. I have been praying for a while that I'd be able to serve on some kind of missions trip. I've never before gone on one, but I know it's exactly right. Anyways, I found this trip and went through all the necessary steps and eventually was accepted. The hardest part of committing to this trip for me, was figuring out how the money would be provided. I couldn't have paid for all of it. My parents wouldn't have been able to pay for all of it. I had to trust to much that God would take care of it. About two or three weeks after having sent out my support letter, my trip was completely paid for. ALL OF IT. I do not have to pay for a single thing. My parents don't have to pay for a single thing. I am still so overwhelmed by this. The generosity of the body of Christ has astounded me, and I can say that it has greatly strengthened my faith. It's only possible through HIM! 13 days until I leave!!!

I've been working at my job now for 1 year. A whole year! This job has been a huge blessing and I continue to be blessed by the friendships I have made and the people I have come to call my other family. They are such a blessing to me. When I don't work for several days at a time, I actually miss them. They mean that much to me. I've really been thankful for my job lately because I'm surrounded by people who for the most part don't a faith similiar to mine or who have no faith. This has caused me to grow, and I've come to see that this is my mission field right now. This is the place God has provided to use me now. I want to take and engage these people. I want to love them like Christ loves us. If that means I go without a couple of non-essential items so that I can get something for someone who needs something at work then so be it. I love to do that for them.

OH! And it's summer...yeah...it's so stinkin hot.

So much is going on. Life is moving at the speed of light and I'm holding on for dear life. There is so much to be done in such a small amount of time. I pray that I'll be an adequate vessel that will be used.


Brianna

Assuming everything goes as planned, I will be the farthest away from home I've ever been tomorrow by this time. Another splendid adventure. So thankful and excited! Pictures will be up in 10 days!

<3

I've had some time to read (slowly, like I do) lately...which is awesome. These are some of the books I've finished up the school year/started the summer with:

How Should We Then Live, by Francis Schaeffer (crazy stuff. Really thankful to have read it).

1984, by George Orwell (no comment).

Ghosts of War, by Ryan Smithson (really great. really eye opening. So glad I picked it up).

The Selby is in Your Place, by Todd Selby (mostly photos, but that only makes it more awesome).

Our of Africa, by Isak Dinesen (A hard one to pick up, but I'm really enjoying it).

Living on the Devil's Doorstep (Super, super good. Thanks, Brianna).

Looking forward to:

Downtown Owl, by Chuck Klosterman

Into the Mud, by Christine Jeske


Very exciting stuff....

Goodness gracious it has been a while since we posted! Here's some crazyness from my journal that I feel led to share...

I stand at the beginning and tilt my head back. It's me and a looming rockface over which I'm determined to carve my destiny. It's all planned out up there, I just don't know how it goes yet. Four steps up one day, down three the next. So I will climb. There'll be scrapes, there'll be bruises. They're just part of the journey. It's a dry and weary land, but water finds me, and lots of it. Enough for the rest of my travels, and enough for all the other travelers. I'm a tired sojourner, but I now have tapped into the ultimate water source, and it is my responsibility to make its' whereabouts known. The water of life is now a part of me, and as I continue to climb I must take the time to stop, meet a fellow vagabond, and share this replenishing gift. Sometimes I will have to back track a couple hundred feet to share. I will descend to a lower place in order to offer somebody in need a hand.
This is my life; this is the journey. I'm not alone, I'm not my own, I'm not anybody else's. This world is not my home, it is my way home.This path ends, but it is not the end. My destination is so promising that I will traverse the endless steppe or dive into the unknown if that is what I must do to get there. I've come this far-however far it might be, and I'm not giving up. Death and chaos lie beneath me. Victory over it all is in my grasp. I want freedom, I want rest. I will not give up. I will not forget the places I've been, or the people who need me. I go to find the hand that first pulled me out of the murk, the sweet drink that first quenched my thirst. I go to prove myself better for having climbed. I go to slide my calloused palms across the last layer of rock, to pull myself up with the wind at my backand I go to be victorious at last over the confused darkness of what I left behind.
After a lifetime of clinging to a rock as though it were my salvation, I will stand on top of it and proclaim my liberation to the nations. I will point to the Wind, the Water, and the Rock, and I will laud them forever.

Above are some pictures I took while working in Joplin, MO (where the tornado went through last Sunday) today. You know what I said about being proud of my brothers and sisters in Christ in the last post? Well ditto that, times a thousand, because of the hundreds of volunteers who have worked and continue to work on cleaning these homes and businesses up.

-I'm pretty sure that my best friend is a hero. She buys less wealthy people shoes. She gets food to people who are going through a hard time. She gives money to friends who can't afford the things they need. If that doesn't make you a hero, I don't know what does.

-Someone paid for the rest of my mission trip to Washington this summer for me tonight. He's going to get one heck of a crown when the role is called up yonder. Just sayin.

-Another hero of mine whom I love (Melinda!) is going to be coming home from Africa this week.

Could I be any more happy, or more thankful for, or more proud of my brothers and sisters in Christ?

I doubt it.

Words like wine:
Intoxicate my mind

Free me from the oceans
Of lusty emotion.

Good or bad, happy or sad;
Their persistence will drive me mad.

There it is. Finally.
I knew there was an original poem inside of me. Unfortunately, I discovered it like two weeks too late to finish the poetry challenge. Alas. Finding it was wonderful, though, because it was just like that. I found it. I didn't write it, come up with it, or put it together. It just came to my mind, and I found the rest of the words. I discovered it, and discovery is true inspiration. I think there are very few things as wonderful as this. Very few to me, at least.
I love writing fiction because it is always inspired. I never sit down thinking "I'm going to start a story right now", it always comes to me first. I know it's good if I don't have to think much while I'm writing it. If it just flows from me smooth and quick like it's just passing over, passing through. When my mind doesn't get in the way, it's like I'm just bringing the words down to earth from their higher resting place. And it feels so great. I love it.
I watched the movie The Pianist last night. It's a movie about a Polish Jew who played piano like a boss, but was captured, and tortured, and treated like Jews were treated during World War 2. The part that got to me was when he was standing in front of a German soldier, with nothing but his sick, starving self, and the soldier asked him what he did, who he was, the main character (his name is about 400 letters long) told him that he was a pianist. That's all he said. When he was there, with nothing, asked who he was, what he did, he went back to what he loved. What inspired him. Now I don't know if, put in that situation, I would say I'm a writer. Hopefully I'd be on my feet enough to mention my identity in Christ. But whatever I'd say, I love to write, and that is where so much of my joy comes from. When I write from beyond my heart and soul, from the fount that uses me to find its' place on the page, I am doing what I love, and I am so thankful for it.


<3

There is a lot of crazy stuff going on in the world today. Especially if you look at it in light of where society has been, and how history has led us to where we are right now. It's really dreadful, and I think the knee jerk reaction for a lot of the people who have recognized this downward spiral has been to duck, to run for spiritual cover, to turtle-up.
So many do this, and so many suffer for it. If we don't face the problem head-on, if we don't put ourselves out there for what we believe in, and for what we want, we miss something. Something big.
One of my favorite passages of scripture has always been: One gives freely yet grows all the richer while another withholds what he could give and only suffers want {Proverbs 11:24}. I think it's sort of like a promise from God: if we invest ourselves, if we get involved, we won't end up with less than we started. Perhaps our wallets will be a little bit lighter, or our hearts a little bit heavier, but we will have lived! We will have done what we could. We will have seized the day!
I recently found a verse that seems kind of parallel to the one above: Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox. {Prov. 14:4} It just feels to me like this verse, in analogous Bible-times jargon, is telling us that if we don't make the investment, if we don't take the risk, we are not going to end up with anything. Putting oneself out there, whether by helping someone, or by joining an intermediate art class, or by going after your dream job, or by sharing what you know to be truth, is like asking God for something to be a part of: something to bring crops, though it may dirty your manger.
Running from a problem, individual, nation-wide, or even world-wide gets you nothing but disconnected from the people around you. We can't all run. And we shouldn't. World hunger is never going to end. Children will always go without education. Some people will never have shoes. Don't go your whole life without encountering problems that seem to big to be overcome.

God doesn't need us, but he lets us sink our hands in. {Andrew Osenga}

There's so much blessing in hurt. There's so much to learn from turmoil. Great joy comes after great sorrow. True love springs from death. Suffering unites us.
Shallow emotions are not enough for me. I want to feel so deeply that every tear I see resonates in my soul. I want brokenness so profound that nothing short of the hand of God can repair my contrite heart.

weep for death. laugh for life.

Wow. So I legitimately failed the 30 day poetry challenge, in case you didn't notice that there isn't a poem posted for April 29. You could say that it was a sacrifice that had to be made in order for me to accomplish passing a lifeguarding certification course this weekend. You could also say that I didn't remember at the right times. I'd just say that I failed. I feel pretty bad about it too.....I'm the kind of person that doesn't like to fail. No I do not. But the failure has occurred. It can't be helped. Please accept my sincere apology, blog world. I am sorry.

Let's be honest, though, it was fun while it lasted! I hope you enjoyed it!

Poem 30 of 30.


Tree House
by Shel Silverstein

A tree house, a free house,
A secret you and me house,
A high up in the leafy branches
Cozy as can be house.

A street house, a neat house,
Be sure to wipe your feet house
Is not my kind of house at all-
Let's go live in a tree house.

I'm selling these bracelets for my mission trip to Washington (state)this summer. I'll be working on a Native American reservation. Email me at spoopsandyoyo@gmail.com if you want to buy one. They're $3 each, and really the snazziest bracelets known to fundraising. You can even pick your own colour! Don't miss out ;)

I find this poem to be incredibly funny. I laugh a lot, and immediately think of one of my friends for some reason...even though she'd never...well, yeah.


My Beard
by Shel Silvertein

My beard grows to my toes
I never wears no clothes,
I wraps my hair
Around my bare,
And down the road I goes.

GIVE me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling;
Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard;
Give me a field where the unmow’d grass grows;
Give me an arbor, give me the trellis’d grape;
Give me fresh corn and wheat—give me serene-moving animals, teaching content;
Give me nights perfectly quiet, as on high plateaus west of the Mississippi, and I looking up at the stars;
Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers, where I can walk undisturbed!

We all knew this was coming. Or could at least guess this was coming. I love Jason Castro, so very much. This is one of my favorite songs he has done. It's happy and kind of goofy.


If I Were You
by Jason Castro

If I were you
I would fall for me
Keep every promise,
Answer my calls
And I would never let you down
Ohhh

If i were you I would turn that car around
Come speeding back tonight
And I, I would wonder how
I got so lucky that I'm right here with you
If i were you I'd know exactly what to do

I would take you by the hand and i would keep holding tight
If you wanna go to sleep I got a lullaby
I know exactly what to say and i would do what you need
If I were you, I would fall for me
Yeah, I would fall for me

If I were you I would drop out of school
Forget the grades, you'd have it made
You'll see, you belong to me
If I could make you realize that all you want is all I've got
Please stay here and don't ever leave, no

I'm so happy that I'm right here with you
Loving you is really all I've wanted to do

I would take you by the hand and I would keep holding tight
And if you wanna go to sleep I got a lullaby
I know exactly what to say and I would do what you need
If I were you I'd fall

Again and again and know if you have any doubt
And if you ever for a second forget what you've found
I'll show you the world, I'll make you believe
If I were you, I would fall for me
I'd fall hard and fast and I'd never look back if I were you
Just close your eyes and you'll see, yeah

I would take you by the hand and I would keep holding tight
If you wanna go to sleep I got a lullaby
I know exactly what to say and I would do what you need
If I were you, I'd fall again and again
And know if you have any doubt
And if you ever for a second forget what you've found
I'll show you the world, I'll make you believe
If I were you, I would fall for me, for me, for me, yeah

I posted my favorite story poem back in February (My African Child), but have yet to figure out how to put up links to older posts so I'll just post another one. I've always loved Robin Hood stories. I find them to be utterly delightful.


Robin Hood, An Outlaw
By James Henry Leigh Hunt

Robin Hood is an outlaw bold
Under the greenwood tree;
Bird, nor stag, nor morning air
Is more at large than he.

They sent against him twenty men,
Who joined him laughing-eyed;
They sent against him thirty more,
And they remained beside.

All the stoutest of the train,
That grew in Gamelyn wood,
Whether they came with these or not,
Are now with Robin Hood.

And not a soul in Locksley town
Would speak him an ill word;
The friars raged; but no man's tongue,
Nor even feature stirred;

Except among a very few
Who dined in the Abbey halls;
And then with a sigh bold Robin knew
His true friends from his false.

There was Roger the monk, that used to make
All monkery his glee;
And Midge, on whom Robin had never turned
His face but tenderly;

With one or two, they say, besides,
Lord! that in this life's dream
Men should abandon one true thing,
That would abide with them.

We cannot bid our strength remain,
Our cheeks continue round;
We cannot say to an aged back,
Stoop not towards the ground;

We cannot bid our dim eyes see
Things as bright as ever;
Nor tell our friends, though friends from youth,
That they'll forsake us never:

But we can say, I never will,
Friendship, fall off from thee;
And, oh sound truth and old regard,
Nothing shall part us three.

This is one of my "random" poems. I re-found this poem today. It's one of my favorites. Happy Easter!


My Advocate
by Martha Snell Nicholson

I sinned. And straightway, post-haste, Satan flew
Before the presence of the most high God,
And made a railing accusation there.
He said, "This soul, this thing of clay and sod,
Has sinned. 'Tis true that he has named Thy name,
But I demand his death, for Thou hast said,
'The soul that sinneth, it shall die.'
Shall not Thy sentence be fulfilled?
Is justice dead?
Send now this wretched sinner to his doom.
What other thing can righteous ruler do?"
And thus he did accuse me day and night,
And every word he spoke, O God, was true!

Then quickly One rose up from God's right hand,
Before Whose glory angels veiled their eyes. He spoke,
"Each jot and tittle of the law
Must be fulfilled; the guilty sinner dies!
But wait -- suppose his guilt were all transferred
To Me, and that I paid his penalty!
Behold My hands, My side, My feet! One day
I was made sin for him, and died that he
Might be presented, faultless, at Thy throne!"
And Satan flew away. Full well he knew
That he could not prevail against such love,
For every word my dear Lord spoke was true!

I am getting a little desperate for poems, here, so this poem fitting in the category "love" may be a bit of a stretch. But really, I think that a huge part of love is being able to feel what those around you feel, and to put yourself in their shoes for the sole purpose of knowing more what they need, and what they need from you. I think that once you know how to tap into a someone's personal make up in that way, you have the capability to love and bless them much much more. When it becomes natural for you to laugh when they laugh, and cry when they cry, you know love. I promise to try and find a more blantant love poem before the month is up. I do like this one though :)

Africa's Pain is my Pain
By Ayanle Isak

Africa dear Africa
Your children are lonely and depressed
Africa dear Africa
Your children are at war with each other
Africa dear Africa
Your children are starving
Africa dear Africa
Your essence are is pure but you are suffering
Africa dear Africa
Your pain is my pain
So I sit here crying.

"Paradise"
This is a song. I love the bridge, I think it's a piece of the picture of the diversity of heaven.


Give Me Your Hand
by Enter the Worship Circle

VERSE 1:
Give me your hand and we'll walk, walk down together
Lift up your hands and we'll sing, sing here together

CHORUS:
How good it is to know you God, How lovely is... your Bride
How blessed we are... to have... each other
You hold us all close...by your side

VERSE 2:
Come with me now and we'll dance, dance here together
Lift up your heart and we'll dream, dream here together

BRIDGE:
There's none to poor, too dirty, too broken
Too naked, too stupid, too drunken, to be

Thrown outside His love!

Joy!


From the very first day,
We were there,
Taking it all in-we heard it with our own ears,
Saw it with our own eyes,
Verified it with our hands!
The Word of Life appeared right before our eyes;
We saw it happen!

The infinite life of God Himself took shape before us!

We saw it,
We heard it
And now we're telling it so you can experience it along with us,
This experience of communion with the Father and His son, Jesus Christ.

Our motive for writing is simply this:
We want you to enjoy this, too!
Your joy will double our joy!


~1 John 1:1-4 (the message)

This is one of my random poems.

Let No Charitable Hope
by Elinor Wylie

Now let no charitable hope
Confuse my mind with images
Of eagle and of antelope:
I am by nature none of these.

I was, being human, born alone;
I am, being woman, hard beset;
I live by squeezing from a stone
What little nourishment I get.

In masks outrageous and austere
The years go by in single file;
But none has merited my fear,
And none has quite escaped my smile.

A poem about conservation.


By Fletcher Williams

The darkness of shadow-like wolves
Darting across the night like
Black bullets, and the moon
Shimmering like a sphere of glowing mass.
Let us save lush grass, green as green
Can be, but, best of all,
Imagination flowing with joy, aha,
Images it is composed of, it is this
That is making the earth grow
With flavor and destination.

These words have never meant as much to anyone as they now mean to me, for in the fine print He tells me what's wrong and what's right <3

"Song"

Dust Bowl Dance
by Mumford and Sons


The young man stands on the edge of his porch
The days were short and the father was gone
There was no one in the town and no one in the field
This dusty barren land had given all it could yield

I've been kicked off my land at the age of sixteen
And I have no idea where else my heart could have been
I placed all my trust at the foot of this hill
And now I am sure my heart can never be still
So collect your courage and collect your horse
And pray you never feel this same kind of remorse

Seal my heart and brake my pride
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I've done and do my time

Well you are my accuser, now look in my face
Your opression reeks of your greed and disgrace
So one man has and another has not
How can you love what it is you have got
When you took it all from the weak hands of the poor?
Liars and thieves you know not what is in store

There will come a time I will look in your eye
You will pray to the God that you always denied
The I'll go out back and I'll get my gun
I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son"

Seal my heart and brake my pride
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I've done and do my time

Well yes sir, yes sir, yes it was me
I know what I've done, cause I know what I've seen
I went out back and I got my gun
I said, "You haven't met me, I am the only son"

Salvation
Charlie Hall


Salvation, spring up from the ground
Lord, rend the Heavens, and come down
Seek the lost and heal the lame;
Jesus bring glory to your name!
Let all the prodigals run home,
All of creation waits and groans.
Lord, we've heard of your great name;
Father, cause all to shout Your name.

Stir up our hearts, Oh God;
Open our spirits to awe who You are.
Put a cry in us so deep inside
That we cannot find the words we need,
We just weep and cry out to You.

"Hope"

Auf Wiedersehen
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Until we meet again! That is the meaning
Of the familiar words, that men repeat
At parting in the street.
Ah yes, till then! but when death intervening
Rends us asunder, with what ceaseless pain
We wait for the Again!

The friends who leave us do not feel the sorrow
Of parting, as we feel it, who must stay
Lamenting day by day,
And knowing, when we wake upon the morrow,
We shall not find in its accustomed place
The one beloved face.

It were a double grief, if the departed,
Being released from earth, should still retain
A sense of earthly pain;
It were a double grief, if the true-hearted,
Who loved us here, should on the farther shore
Remember us no more.

Believing, in the midst of our afflictions,
That death is a beginning, not an end,
We cry to them, and send
Farewells, that better might be called predictions,
Being fore-shadowings of the future, thrown
Into the vast Unknown.

Faith overleaps the confines of our reason,
And if by faith, as in old times was said,
Women received their dead
Raised up to life, then only for a season
Our partings are, nor shall we wait in vain
Until we meet again!

Hope


An old Welsh hymn.

Fair and comely is my Saviour
Fairest of the fair is He;
King of kings I hail Him gladly
Here and through eternity;
His great beauty Has completely
Won my soul.

See above the clouds and shadows,
See, my soul, the land of light
Where the breeze is ever balmy,
Where the sky is ever bright.
Blessed myriads now enjoy its' perfect peace.

Now at length a mighty rapture
Thrills this troubled heart of mine,
In the prospect of possessing
This inheritance divine;
Ever blessed they that seek this Land of Rest.

Yes, we part, but not for ever-
Joyful hopes our bosoms swell;
They who love the Saviour never
Know a long, a last farewell!
Blissful unions lie beyond this parting veil.

"Joy"


Tears of Joy
anonymous

When I behold Thy peerless face.
Beaming with love, O Lord.
What fear have I of earthly woe
Or of the frown of sorrow?

As the first ray of the dawning sun dispels the dark.
So too, Lord, when Thy blessed light
Bursts forth within the heart.
It scatters all our grief and pain with sweetest balm.

When on Thy love and grace I ponder,
In my heart’s deepest depths.
Tears of joy stream down my cheeks
beyond restraining.

Hail, Gracious Lord! Hail.
Gracious One! I shall proclaim Thy love.
May my life-breath depart from me as
I perform Thy works.

Here's a poem about a journey (not one of the "official" categories), taken from my well worn copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien

Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut, and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Throgh shadows to the egde of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then the world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!

"Story"

Go Down Death
by James Weldon Johnson

Weep not, weep not,
She is not dead;
She's resting in the bosom of Jesus.
Heart-broken husband--weep no more;
Grief-stricken son--weep no more;
Left-lonesome daughter --weep no more;
She only just gone home.

Day before yesterday morning,
God was looking down from his great, high heaven,
Looking down on all his children,
And his eye fell of Sister Caroline,
Tossing on her bed of pain.
And God's big heart was touched with pity,
With the everlasting pity.

And God sat back on his throne,
And he commanded that tall, bright angel standing at his right hand:
Call me Death!
And that tall, bright angel cried in a voice
That broke like a clap of thunder:
Call Death!--Call Death!
And the echo sounded down the streets of heaven
Till it reached away back to that shadowy place,
Where Death waits with his pale, white horses.

And Death heard the summons,
And he leaped on his fastest horse,
Pale as a sheet in the moonlight.
Up the golden street Death galloped,
And the hooves of his horses struck fire from the gold,
But they didn't make no sound.
Up Death rode to the Great White Throne,
And waited for God's command.

And God said: Go down, Death, go down,
Go down to Savannah, Georgia,
Down in Yamacraw,
And find Sister Caroline.
She's borne the burden and heat of the day,
She's labored long in my vineyard,
And she's tired--
She's weary--
Do down, Death, and bring her to me.

And Death didn't say a word,
But he loosed the reins on his pale, white horse,
And he clamped the spurs to his bloodless sides,
And out and down he rode,
Through heaven's pearly gates,
Past suns and moons and stars;
on Death rode,
Leaving the lightning's flash behind;
Straight down he came.

While we were watching round her bed,
She turned her eyes and looked away,
She saw what we couldn't see;
She saw Old Death.She saw Old Death
Coming like a falling star.
But Death didn't frighten Sister Caroline;
He looked to her like a welcome friend.
And she whispered to us: I'm going home,
And she smiled and closed her eyes.

And Death took her up like a baby,
And she lay in his icy arms,
But she didn't feel no chill.
And death began to ride again--
Up beyond the evening star,
Into the glittering light of glory,
On to the Great White Throne.
And there he laid Sister Caroline
On the loving breast of Jesus.

And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away her tears,
And he smoothed the furrows from her face,
And the angels sang a little song,
And Jesus rocked her in his arms,
And kept a-saying: Take your rest,
Take your rest.

Weep not--weep not,
She is not dead;
She's resting in the bosom of Jesus.

Here's a poem from a song:

Is Love Enough?
By Michael Franti

We want freedom of speech
But we all talkin' at the same time
We say we want peace
But nobody wants to change their own mind

So it goes on and on and on and on and on
For a thousand years
And it goes on and on and on and on and on
What language are your tears?

Everybody wants to live the life of kings and queens
But nobody wants to stay and plow the fields
Everybody wants to tell their neighbours how to live
But nobody wants to listen to how they feel

So it goes on and on and on and on and on
For a thousand years, a thousand years I say
And it goes on and on and on and on and on.

Is love enough?
Is there love enough?
Or can you love some more?
Is your love enough?
Or can you love some more?

"Silly"

The Purist
by Ogden Nash

I give you now Professor Twist,
A conscientious scientist,
Trustees exclaimed, "He never bungles!"
And sent him off to distant jungles.
Camped on a tropic riverside,
One day he missed his loving bride.
She had, the guide informed him later,
Been eaten by an alligator.
Professor Twist could not but smile.
"You mean," he said, "a crocodile."

Peace (my faaaavorite:))

By MaryAnn Miller;

He rules me, leads me, guides me
And walks with me hand in hand
Into repentance and rest, quietness,
And a confidence in his peace.


Here's just a quote about peace that I thought I'd put up also:

In one respect peace is like health, we do not sufficiently know it's value but by its' absence."

-Charles Inglis

"Peace"

When All Is Done
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

When all is done, and my last word is said,
And ye who loved me murmur, "He is dead,"
Let no one weep, for fear that I should know,
And sorrow too that ye should sorrow so.

When all is done and in the oozing clay,
Ye lay this cast-off hull of mine away,
Pray not for me, for, after long despair,
The quiet of the grave will be a prayer.

For I have suffered loss and grievous pain,
The hurts of hatred and the world's disdain,
And wounds so deep that love, well-tried and pure,
Had not the pow'r to ease them or to cure.

When all is done, say not my day is o'er,
And that thro' night I seek a dimmer shore:
Say rather that my morn has just begun,--
I greet the dawn and not a setting sun,
When all is done.

Paradise

Heaven Song
By Phil Wickham


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
Now my soul is getting restless for the place where I belong
I can't wait to join the angles, and sing my Heaven song!

"Love"

The Look
By Sara Teasdale

Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.

This is my silly poem. It's from Open Season. That's right, the animated film about woodland animals. What about it?!


There once was an elf,
A magical elf, who lived in a rainbow tree.

He lived upstairs from a flatulent dwarf
Who was constantly having to pee

And then one day he could take no more
So he went and knocked on the rude dwarf's door

And what do you know?
They suddenly both were married!

Nature.

Trees
By Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Faith. Faith. Faith.


After the Storm
by Mumford & Sons

And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up
On my knees and out of luck,
I look up.

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind, and not this heart,
I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart, dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see what you'll find there
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That's why I hold,
That's why I hold with all I have,
That's why I hold.

I will die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I'll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full, and life so small.
I'm scared of what's behind, and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart, dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see what you'll find there
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

from the category of "Faith"

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 not 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 bruised 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!


Brianna

Apriltry

Brianna and I are starting a 30 day poetry challenge today. It's most exciting. For the next month, we will be posting one poem a day. We have ten "topics" that we will each post one of, and then we'll post five random, perhaps original, poems. Here are the topics in no particular order:

Silly
Paradise
Love
Song
Faith
Nature
Peace
Hope
Tells a story
Joy

Everyone and their mother has been doing some kind of 3o day challenge lately, so we thought we'd invent our own.
I get the honours of posting the first poem of the month! It falls in the "nature" category.

Song to A Tree

Give me the dance of your boughs, O Tree,
Whenever the wild wind blows;
And when the wind is gone, give me
Your beautiful repose.

How easily your greatness swings
To meet the changing hours;
I, too, would mount upon your wings,
And rest upon your powers.

I seek your grace, O mighty Tree,
And shall seek many a day,
Till I more worthily shall be
Your comrade on the way.

By Edwin Markham



What a hippy I must seem...
Brianna will be posting a poem she's discovered tomorrow!

My African Child~by Toris Okotie

So young in heart
He cried for milk
So poor and helpless
Mama weeps in pain

His eyes so red
A week he cried
A month ago,
To the world he came

Mama so young
Papa has run
Under the bridge
They lay their heads

In storm and rain
They search for food
Through man and sex
Mama fed him well

The days went by
Mama health decreased
Only five months old
Mama said good bye

In rain and cold
He cried so loud
In sun and heat
He wept and wept

Three days gone by
Since Mama left
And now he sleeps
To meet with Mama



This poem is one of my favorites because I love how concise it is. I am amazed by how few words it took the author to relay his tragic story so poignantly.

Stay tuned, more poetry is on the horizon :)


Lydia

This is my cry for those who are suffering, for those who are in the midst of civil war, and for those who are in bondage.

There is so much suffering.

Oh Lord, bring us peace.

Oh Lord, come quickly!



Brianna

Oh yes. Oh yes yes yes yes. When I drink this, I become the Spazmanian Devil. Spaz, I say. Spazzzztastic.

It may be March, but Spring is coming.

waterthirst
hungerfeasting
losslaughter
wealthpoverty
fuelfever
heightsdepths
brokenhealed
shatteredmended
lovedlost
forgivenforgotten
soldredeemed

This is me again: running over. Watching friends get hurt, seeing people's homes get washed away, hearing about people who need help but cannot be reached by those of us who want to assist, listening, advising, and holding hands. I am so glad that the debauched, sorry echo of love that we see so often is not the only love that there is, and I rejoice over the fact that love is not my religion, but rather, that my religion=alltruelovewrappedintoonepersongodman.

found
rescued
embraced
liberated
delivered
changed
loved.

In the next year, I will be performing the Radical Experiment. I started the day after Valentines day, so about a month and a half too late to be a New Years sort of deal, but when the New Year rolls around again, I'll know I'm getting close. Anyway, some dude named David Platt wrote a book called Radical. He is a preacher at some mega church in the U.S. It is kind of weird because I am devoting hours and hours of the next year to this experiment, but I honestly would not recommend the book. Not the whole book at least. I highly recommend reading the first and last chapters, and praying over the experiment. The rest kind of got on my nerves. Here are the components of the experiment:

-Pray for the entire world in a year(check out the picture of my Christmas presents, under the label "images")
-Read the entire Bible in a year
-Sacrifice your money for a specific purpose
-Spend your time in another context
-Commit your life to a multiplying community.

The most challenging of these, so far, have beeen the first two. Oh my. The Bible is one hefty book and reading it takes a whole lot of time. I have had to stop watching the office completely. Sigh. And I have not been to see a movie in theatres ALL YEAR. That is radical for me, ok. RADICAL.
I am most excited about the fourth (JAMAICA and, perhaps, Yakima, Washington) because I love love love that traveling and meeting new people stuff.
But yeah, that is the Radical experiment and I am thankful to have the oppurtunities to take part in each of the six challenges that make it up.

My dear Father, he's been my boulder. My strong tower to lean on. He's supported our family in the rough times, and during the easy times. He's been rock and has always done what's necessary. He's worked at the bottom, with a smile on his face. He's faced the emotionally tiring times of life with a firm resolve. I am so thankful and greatful for the role he has in my life. I look forward to the life ahead with my father.

Happy Birthday, Dad!


Brianna

I am ever so blessed. My mother gave me life. She raised me up (with help from my father, of course). She changed my diapers. She has held me when I cry, and still does. She feeds me. Gives me money for some gas. Comforts, supports, and encourages me. She makes me look at what I'm doing and makes me really think about it, on occaision. She loves me.

My mom is a huge blessing to me, my brother and father, and to people who surround her. I am so thankful for her, and for her life. Lord, thank you for her.

Happy Birthday, Mom!



Brianna

Just one quick question (for I too have been sucked into my society and am dreadfully busy): What is it that fills you over?
I think that we all have things that we name off when someone asks us what we do, or who we are, or what satisfies us. Things like our family, our job, our hobbies, our beliefs. Those are the things with which we fill our time, towards which we exert our energy, and without which we freak out. I have discovered, though, and keep rediscovering an over-filled point. I feel like liquid in a cup, and all these things take me to the rim (usually), but then I run into a song, or a picture, or an idea, that adds just one ounce more, and then my soul starts running over the edges. Do you know what I am talking about? Have you known this emotional implosion?
I hope so, because though it causes my heart to literally ache, and I cannot help but hang my head in an overwhelmed fashion when I experience it, I love this emotional expanse, and I even seek it. It is hard to explain. It is so excruciating and wonderful at the same time, that I want all to know it, and I want everyone to have beliefs to look to that are as awe-inspiring as those to which I turn. Because sometimes, it is impossible to handle one such magnificient beauty as a dirty child in the arms of someone who loves them, a blind youth harbouring hope for sight, or the tranquility of nature without searching for someone or something greater that will take care to catch the drippings from beneath your metaphorical cup.

Hello.

We are alive.

The End.


Brianna and Lydia

"Writing is like giving birth to a piano sideways. Anyone who perseveres is either talented or nuts." -Flannery O'Connor

Inkspell by Cornelia Funke, The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien, and Til We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. J'adore all of them. They are lovely works of fiction. What I do not understand, though, is how little fiction I actually read. I avoid it, really, and always find myself in the biography section of the library or B&N. This is even weirder considering how much I love to write fiction. It is to me what eating is to my little sister, what painting was to Picasso, what military stratagem was to Napoleon. It is my #1 form of self expression, yet I avoid reading it. Perhaps this is because of the voice in my head that insists reading fiction is a waste of time. I must get too much joy from imagining what isn't to listen to that voice. Here are some fictional things that I've been really wanting to exist this week....

Naturally blue highlights
Unicorns
Literary Osmosis
Garden gnomes that walk and talk
A white Jeep Wrangler that requires absolutely no gas to run, registered in my name
Blue pandas
Reggae style hymns.

If I were honest, I would tell you that your hunger makes me cry inside. I would tell you that my heart cracks over the uncertainty and insecurities in your life. If I told the truth, you would know that I never wanted to see tears rolling down your proud face. I would tell you that you can have everything that belongs to me, because your happiness means more to me than my own, if I were honest. You would know not only that I love you, but that I love you more than life, and you are more precious to my soul than all the wealth in the world. If I told you the way things really are, you would know that I would rather be struck, than see you hit one more time. If I were honest, I would tell you that I love you, and that my mind and body silently cry out in agony when you say that you feel alone.
Would you help pick up the pieces of my shattered heart, if I were honest?

In school right now I am reading literature about the Civil War era and just before then. Of course, with that comes the study and critique of American slavery. It is something that has been talked about in my curriculums to the point of just being annoying. It was terrible, yeah, but it is over. Can we talk about something else, maybe?
Well in further studying that time I am reading more about the other side of it. Everyone seems to look back at it and think "I would never do that", or "that kind of cruelty would make me sick no matter how many of my friends supported it", and that may be true-who can know?-but what about if we had been one of the people enslaved? In Uncle Tom's Cabin, (A work of fiction? Yes. Truth? Mostly, I believe.) the "slaves" blow my mind with their calm, submission, and strength. They sang, and they wept, and they supported one another.
I love to think that the many Africans who were Christians were more free than their "masters", because they were free from eternal bondage, to sin. I am amazed by how backwards things can appear on this earth, and hope that had I been a slave, I would have had that same graceful perseverance.

This scene is ever so prevelant in Egypt right now. People are fighting. People are rioting. People are dying. Civil unrest has become uncommon in this place. Change needs to happen.

All of the unrest we're seeing right now in Egypt hasn't been going for a really long time, and already I think it is possible for us to become numb to the heartache and pain of the country. I pray that this doesn't happen. I pray that we would not turn a blind eye to these people and the pain they are enduring. Let us pray without end for the people and for the country of Egypt. God can and will bring peace.


Brianna

The last couple days have been pretty average days with the occaisional mix of highly unusual occurances (another time). As always I've been caught up in school and work. Yesterday I did my Bible lesson and had the idea of temptation and things that go along with that further explained.

When we sin, we are following after the wrong desires of our heart. These desires are not rooted in Christ, but rather in Satan. Satan leads us slowly to the realization of these desires; he builds them up and makes us rationalize them until we make them "okay" in our minds. Satan does this just to pull us further and further away from God. Satan is crafty, he doesn't do this all at once, but little by little he pulls us farther from God.

Kind of makes you think about what the little evil genius Satan is, right?



Brianna

I like to pretend that National Freedom Day has nothing to do with a President, or something being signed, but rather that it is a day dedicated to the commemeration and vision of liberation from wickedness and deliverance unto perfection. I like to think that it is about all the bad in the world being taken away, and being replaced by the power to do boundless good: to speak without restraint put on by the cold and irreligious bonds of society.

Happy (National) Freedom Day!



(I am not sure who the poem on that painting was written by, so I can not tell you to whom the credit is do. I can only tell you to whom it is not do, and that is me).

Pretty much all year I have been asking God to show me something beautiful every day. I considered doing a 365 dealio where I noted something beautiful from every day, but decided against it because it would no doubt get repetitive (the sunset today, the sunrise this morning, that random tree, this random tree, etc.). If I were doing a 365 of beauty, however, today it would be Melinda, because it is her birthday, and she is beeeeautiful.

Happy Birthday, Melinda!

God Is Good

A crowded hospital chapel filled full with praying, tearful people is what I found one Sunday night. Just hours before life was going on as usual; the sun was out, the sky was beautiful--life was normal. With one message, with one sentance, life changed--forever altered by the severity and sadness of the situation. One of my closest friends' mom jad died. Without warning, without any reason, she had passed from this life to the next by the will of God.

My mind blurred. My heart felt a literal ache. Not only had my friend lost her mother and friend, I had also lost someone. This woman I looked up to, spoke freely to, and who loved me, was gone.

In the hour or two before I went to the hospital I wrestled with the events that had happened. I tried to understand and figure out why God did this, why He had chosen to take one of the most wonderful witnesses of Him out of this world. This I could not do. To this day I honestly still do not understand the "why." In those moments, my mind was full with the mess of what was happening.

Then I was there, in the hospital, waiting anxiously for one of my friends so that we might enter the chapel together. I could not enter alone. As soon as she arrived we entered together, red-faced and teary-eyed. In that moment, reality struck me once again, bringing me to my knees.

The room was quiet. Pain and grief lingered in the air like a bad stench. There she was, my dear broken friend, wrapped in the embraces of our fellow friends. She was more vulnerable than ever before. But in the midst of that stench was the aroma of love, it was prayer. A sign of hope, of light, in the darkness.

That night is a memory forever burned into my brain. I will never forget it. As horrible as it was, God's presence was there drawing me and those around me closer to Him. Never before did I pray more deeply, never before had I cried so hard, but He was there. His might hand moved and guided all of us that nightand in the days to come just like He always does.

Through this pain, through this heartache, He is still good. God's goodness still existed even in this situation. My friend who lost her mother, she and I grew even closer. Our hearts and souls are forever intertwined. My other friends also grew closer with one another. We all were hurting. We all were searching for hope in the situation.

It still hurts; the pain is still present. The pain will probably never go away. That is okay. God is good--that is enough.

(This is an essay I was assigned to write for an English project. The point was to convey emotion and tell about an event in your life that happened that you remember vividly.)