1. EVERYTHING is green. Seriously, there are trees everywhere and they mow the grass like every two days because it grows that fast.
2. Every night between 9 and 9:30 the fireflies come out. There is a big field in the middle of the campus and all the buildings line up around it. There are bushes and trees and lots of places to sit and such, and if you go out at the right time you will see all the fireflies. Hundreds. Seriously. I am not kidding. It's like late-night glittery grass. Beautiful.
3.Chik-fil-a, Cracker Barrel, and Shake 'n shake.
4. There are some great "characters" here as Caleb likes to call them. It makes driving down the road an humorous adventure every time.
5. It's hot here. Everyday is hot. I really like hot. It's a blessing.
6. THERE IS A SIX FLAGS HERE!
7. THERE IS ALSO A SWEET ZOO!
More to come later...
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wood Ticks and "Phsycic Freaks"
Two Sunday's ago I noticed that I had a mole on my back that I hadn't previously had. Then I realized - it was a TICK; the first tick I have ever had. I utterly detest ticks. Anything that can stick it's head in your flesh and suck your blood for long periods of time is absolutely abominable to me. ICK. With the help of my husband I dug every last piece of the tick out of my back. I then spent the rest of the day informing anyone who would listen about my traumatic experience (as an attempt to heal the emotional scar this experience had left, of course). One person I told via email was my twelve-year old brother. I just received his response:
"You got a tick?!! That is so cool!!! Is the place where you got it turning red or are you feeling woozy? If you are you will become Tick Woman and you would have to spend the rest of your life saving the citizens of New York City!!! I hope that doesn't happen. But if it does you have to tell me!!! Because then I could spend the rest of my life being a phsycic freak that knows everything! ( I don't know how to spell Phsycic so if you know, tell me.) Good By Rebekah!!! I love you and miss you and can't wait to see you again!!! Bye!
P.S. Do not show our parents this."
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Get Directions or Get Adventure
When you have an adventurous spirit, it's always good to get directions first. Even if you think you know the general direction you are headed, it typically doesn't do you much good. As a matter of fact, even with directions it's possible to still get lost. Not comprehending these three facts is one of my greatest weaknesses.
Here are just two incidents where I should have been prepared before heading to me desired location. In one case, I had never been to the place I was seeking and in the other case, I had.
Two weeks ago my sister-in-law, Katie, and I went to Florida to surprise-visit my family. Our flights landed in Orlando at about 11:30 in the morning and my parent's flight (they were traveling with us) didn't land until 4:30 in the afternoon. This gave us about five hours to kill - and I did not want to spend them in the airport.
Excitedly and sporadically, I came up with the idea that we should spend our time in Downtown Orlando seeing fun urban-y sites. While looking for the public transportation in the airport (which was somewhat difficult to find), it started to rain. Once we had finally secured a seat on a bus we began our travels towards the heart of Orlando - at the mercy of our very crabby bus driver. We weren't quite sure which stop to get off on, but we figured it would be pretty hard to miss downtown Orlando.
After about twenty minutes of travel, we realized we were still in the middle of nowhere. We began to wonder, hoping that we were not on the wrong bus and riding to our doom. Nervously, we began to question our surroundings and look for the first coffee shop we saw to unload at where we could wait for my parents to arrive and rescue us. I began to regret my lack of planning.
Just as we saw a coffee shop, the bus driver pulled over to let someone on. Immediately and confidently (even though I wasn't confident at all, I just wanted Katie to think I was confident), I declared it was time for us to get off the bus. As I started to stand and move towards the door, the crabby bus lady started yelling at me. Alarmed, I quietly informed her that we were getting off the bus. She yelled at me again, this time because I didn't pull the cord to let her know we wanted to get off. So I sat back down. She then looked at me in the rearview mirror and told me to get off the bus. Katie quickly and timidly followed.
So, there we were, luggage and all, in a strange back part of Orlando in the rain (although it wasn't raining too hard at his point).
Not quite sure what to do, Katie suggested that we continue on the path the bus was taking, just to see if we could find anything (the previously sited coffee shop was way behind us now, because she drove while she was yelling at me). After walking uphill about a block we saw a beautiful sight: Downtown Orlando - five or six miles away. So on we walked, laughing at my stupidity for not getting directions.
But the fun does not stop there. With every regretful step we took, the rain began to fall harder and harder. After about 45 minutes of walking in the now tropical-storm-like rain, soaked to the bone, we stumbled upon a Panera.
Upon entering, we were met with many gazes and laughs as we were dripping from head to toe all over the floor. Explaining our appearance to two or three dining citizens, a guy in the food line in front of me, and two or three employees, I finally got some coffee and began to warm up. Still, the most exciting part of our adventure had yet to take place.
Sitting a couple tables over was a gray haired man in his late 50's/early 60's. He was one of the dining citizens that had inquired about our drenched state of existence. He would not stop staring at us. Somewhat awkwardly, I continued a broken conversation with him, hoping that he would mind his own business. Unfortunately I asked a seemingly harmless - yet very wrong - question.
"What do you do for a living?"
He rose from his table and joined us at ours. "I'm an artist," he replied. For the next half hour we heard all about his life experiences and artistic fame in Orlando. Right when we thought he was wrapping up he noticed that Katie had her laptop out and was connected to the internet. He then proceeded to go on Katie's computer and show us all his artwork.
We began "Ooo-ing and Aahh-ing" because there were some really beautiful paintings. I began to think that it wasn't as bad as I initially thought, and that maybe I had found some sort of artistic jewel. But then he took it a step further. He went into his hotmail email account to show us his most recent paintings. I don't know how else to say this, so I will just say it: they were exotic paintings of half-dressed women. There were about five of them. Even more strangely, he pointed out a specific painting for which he had used a model named Rebecca.
By this point in time, Katie and I were entirely creeped out. Between awkward glances and subtle hints that we were both feeling quite uncomfortable, I began to formulate a plan to get this man to leave. Thankfully, before I had to execute it, he left Panera on his own. He made us "promise" to keep in touch via email, and although we both smiled nodded our heads we secretly knew we would certainly not.
As good of a story as this is to tell, I'm somewhat embarrassed that it could have been entirely avoided had I spent five minutes on mapquest.com.
I am dictating this blog to Katie right now as we drive (it seems she - luckily :) - happens to be with me when I get lost). We are on our way back to Fargo from Enderlin with my mother - or we should be anyways. Actually, we are on our way back from the South Dakota border. Oops. I didn't know I was supposed to get off at the Kindred exit. Another two hours wasted because I was too lazy to look up directions. Don't worry though, we are going to try and get to Enderlin again on Thursday. I will look up directions this time, and my mom said she would too.
Here are just two incidents where I should have been prepared before heading to me desired location. In one case, I had never been to the place I was seeking and in the other case, I had.
Two weeks ago my sister-in-law, Katie, and I went to Florida to surprise-visit my family. Our flights landed in Orlando at about 11:30 in the morning and my parent's flight (they were traveling with us) didn't land until 4:30 in the afternoon. This gave us about five hours to kill - and I did not want to spend them in the airport.
Excitedly and sporadically, I came up with the idea that we should spend our time in Downtown Orlando seeing fun urban-y sites. While looking for the public transportation in the airport (which was somewhat difficult to find), it started to rain. Once we had finally secured a seat on a bus we began our travels towards the heart of Orlando - at the mercy of our very crabby bus driver. We weren't quite sure which stop to get off on, but we figured it would be pretty hard to miss downtown Orlando.
After about twenty minutes of travel, we realized we were still in the middle of nowhere. We began to wonder, hoping that we were not on the wrong bus and riding to our doom. Nervously, we began to question our surroundings and look for the first coffee shop we saw to unload at where we could wait for my parents to arrive and rescue us. I began to regret my lack of planning.
Just as we saw a coffee shop, the bus driver pulled over to let someone on. Immediately and confidently (even though I wasn't confident at all, I just wanted Katie to think I was confident), I declared it was time for us to get off the bus. As I started to stand and move towards the door, the crabby bus lady started yelling at me. Alarmed, I quietly informed her that we were getting off the bus. She yelled at me again, this time because I didn't pull the cord to let her know we wanted to get off. So I sat back down. She then looked at me in the rearview mirror and told me to get off the bus. Katie quickly and timidly followed.
So, there we were, luggage and all, in a strange back part of Orlando in the rain (although it wasn't raining too hard at his point).
Not quite sure what to do, Katie suggested that we continue on the path the bus was taking, just to see if we could find anything (the previously sited coffee shop was way behind us now, because she drove while she was yelling at me). After walking uphill about a block we saw a beautiful sight: Downtown Orlando - five or six miles away. So on we walked, laughing at my stupidity for not getting directions.
But the fun does not stop there. With every regretful step we took, the rain began to fall harder and harder. After about 45 minutes of walking in the now tropical-storm-like rain, soaked to the bone, we stumbled upon a Panera.
Upon entering, we were met with many gazes and laughs as we were dripping from head to toe all over the floor. Explaining our appearance to two or three dining citizens, a guy in the food line in front of me, and two or three employees, I finally got some coffee and began to warm up. Still, the most exciting part of our adventure had yet to take place.
Sitting a couple tables over was a gray haired man in his late 50's/early 60's. He was one of the dining citizens that had inquired about our drenched state of existence. He would not stop staring at us. Somewhat awkwardly, I continued a broken conversation with him, hoping that he would mind his own business. Unfortunately I asked a seemingly harmless - yet very wrong - question.
"What do you do for a living?"
He rose from his table and joined us at ours. "I'm an artist," he replied. For the next half hour we heard all about his life experiences and artistic fame in Orlando. Right when we thought he was wrapping up he noticed that Katie had her laptop out and was connected to the internet. He then proceeded to go on Katie's computer and show us all his artwork.
We began "Ooo-ing and Aahh-ing" because there were some really beautiful paintings. I began to think that it wasn't as bad as I initially thought, and that maybe I had found some sort of artistic jewel. But then he took it a step further. He went into his hotmail email account to show us his most recent paintings. I don't know how else to say this, so I will just say it: they were exotic paintings of half-dressed women. There were about five of them. Even more strangely, he pointed out a specific painting for which he had used a model named Rebecca.
By this point in time, Katie and I were entirely creeped out. Between awkward glances and subtle hints that we were both feeling quite uncomfortable, I began to formulate a plan to get this man to leave. Thankfully, before I had to execute it, he left Panera on his own. He made us "promise" to keep in touch via email, and although we both smiled nodded our heads we secretly knew we would certainly not.
As good of a story as this is to tell, I'm somewhat embarrassed that it could have been entirely avoided had I spent five minutes on mapquest.com.
I am dictating this blog to Katie right now as we drive (it seems she - luckily :) - happens to be with me when I get lost). We are on our way back to Fargo from Enderlin with my mother - or we should be anyways. Actually, we are on our way back from the South Dakota border. Oops. I didn't know I was supposed to get off at the Kindred exit. Another two hours wasted because I was too lazy to look up directions. Don't worry though, we are going to try and get to Enderlin again on Thursday. I will look up directions this time, and my mom said she would too.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Old Rugged Cross
I am in Florida for the week so I picked a hymn that reminds me of my childhood here. This hymn was written in 1913 by George Bennard. He wrote this hymn after experiencing some sort of trial, reflecting on Paul's teachings about suffering. He was convinced (and rightly so) that the cross was not merely a religious symbol, but the heart of the gospel.
The Old Rugged Cross
Text & Music: George Bennard
On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.
The Old Rugged Cross
Text & Music: George Bennard
On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
He Hideth My Soul
When I was a little girl (I don't remember how little...5th or 6th grade?) my father had a Fanny Crosby night at church one Sunday evening. I don't remember why he did this, and I don't remember much about it. I just remember thinking that Fanny Crosby was a funny name for a girl and wondering if she was in any way related to Bill (but then I learned his last name was Cosby, not Crosby). Every time I sing a hymn by Fanny Crosby these are the things that first come to mind.
Since then, I have become more and more thankful for Fanny (her real name was Frances) Crosby. She became blind when she was only six weeks old. She lived to be 94, almost 95 years old. She was married when she was 37, and only had one child whom died in infancy. You can read more about Fanny Crosby here.
The hymn of the week is written by Fanny.
He Hideth My Soul
Text: Frances J. Crosby
Music: William J. Kirkpatrick
A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
A wonderful Savior to me;
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
Where rivers of pleasure I see.
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand.
A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
He taketh my burden away,
He holdeth me up and I shall not be moved,
He giveth me strength as my day.
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand.
With numberless blessings each moment He crowns,
And filled with His fullness divine,
I sing in my rapture, oh, glory to God!
For such a Redeemer as mine.
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand.
When clothed with His brightness transported I rise
To meet Him in clouds of the sky,
His perfect salvation, His wonderful love,
I'll shout with the millions on high.
Since then, I have become more and more thankful for Fanny (her real name was Frances) Crosby. She became blind when she was only six weeks old. She lived to be 94, almost 95 years old. She was married when she was 37, and only had one child whom died in infancy. You can read more about Fanny Crosby here.
The hymn of the week is written by Fanny.
He Hideth My Soul
Text: Frances J. Crosby
Music: William J. Kirkpatrick
A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
A wonderful Savior to me;
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
Where rivers of pleasure I see.
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand.
A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
He taketh my burden away,
He holdeth me up and I shall not be moved,
He giveth me strength as my day.
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand.
With numberless blessings each moment He crowns,
And filled with His fullness divine,
I sing in my rapture, oh, glory to God!
For such a Redeemer as mine.
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand.
When clothed with His brightness transported I rise
To meet Him in clouds of the sky,
His perfect salvation, His wonderful love,
I'll shout with the millions on high.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Gender: Inherent or Man-made?
I was given the opportunity to teach a breakout session once a week for an Intro to Sociology (110) class at NDSU this Spring. Because I don't even have my bachelor's degree yet (3 days!), the subjects I taught were highly controlled. Recently I was supposed to teach a class on gender.
The definition of gender in my textbook, Sociology in Our Times by Diana Kendall, states "Gender is a human invention, like language, kinship, religion, and technology; like them, gender organizes human social life in culturally patterned ways (p 292)." True: gender organizes society in a specific way. False: gender is a human invention.
Because I do not agree that gender roles are man-made, I had a hard time figuring out how to teach this lecture and stick to the material. I ended up teaching the basic terms for the chapter in about five minutes, and then told them that the topic of "gender roles" is highly debated. I wanted them to know that not everyone thinks gender roles are man-made and that's why things such as homosexuality, same-sex marriages, and so on are such highly debated issues.
I presented the material in the form of an argument, explaining the implications it would have on our society if we "uncreate" gender roles or if we keep gender roles and understand them to be inherent and given to us by our Creator. We ended the class with a debate - whether gender roles are inherent or man-made.
The reason I am sharing this is because of a blog I read this morning by Al Mohler. It's titled "Worldview Test: Can We Do Without 'Male' and 'Female'?" I'd encourage you to read it and start thinking about the issue if you haven't already.
It's hard to maintain a Biblical perspective of gender when our entire culture is doing its best to destroy it. I find thoughts creeping through my own mind at times that are in every way rebellious to who God has called me to be as a woman and a wife. Please, spend some time in Scripture and decide which side of the argument you are going to fight for. If we don't make a conscious effort to live according to Scripture and recognize that God has already established our Gender, then we will find ourselves compromising and slowly we will accept and preach what the World has decided gender should be.
The definition of gender in my textbook, Sociology in Our Times by Diana Kendall, states "Gender is a human invention, like language, kinship, religion, and technology; like them, gender organizes human social life in culturally patterned ways (p 292)." True: gender organizes society in a specific way. False: gender is a human invention.
Because I do not agree that gender roles are man-made, I had a hard time figuring out how to teach this lecture and stick to the material. I ended up teaching the basic terms for the chapter in about five minutes, and then told them that the topic of "gender roles" is highly debated. I wanted them to know that not everyone thinks gender roles are man-made and that's why things such as homosexuality, same-sex marriages, and so on are such highly debated issues.
I presented the material in the form of an argument, explaining the implications it would have on our society if we "uncreate" gender roles or if we keep gender roles and understand them to be inherent and given to us by our Creator. We ended the class with a debate - whether gender roles are inherent or man-made.
The reason I am sharing this is because of a blog I read this morning by Al Mohler. It's titled "Worldview Test: Can We Do Without 'Male' and 'Female'?" I'd encourage you to read it and start thinking about the issue if you haven't already.
It's hard to maintain a Biblical perspective of gender when our entire culture is doing its best to destroy it. I find thoughts creeping through my own mind at times that are in every way rebellious to who God has called me to be as a woman and a wife. Please, spend some time in Scripture and decide which side of the argument you are going to fight for. If we don't make a conscious effort to live according to Scripture and recognize that God has already established our Gender, then we will find ourselves compromising and slowly we will accept and preach what the World has decided gender should be.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Five Things About My Mom
In honor of my mother, I am going to list five reasons why I am thankful for her.
1. As soon as my mother found out she was pregnant with me she started praying for me. She has continued to pray for me every day of my life.
2. She recently told me that the first thing she did when I was born (like right after I was cleaned off and given back to her) was to share the gospel with me. I still can't express how much that means to me - that the most important thing concerning me to my mother has always been my soul. This is so true that her very first words to me were about the amazing love of Christ.
3. She gave me five younger siblings who I love very dearly. I remember when I was little she told me she was pregnant before my dad a couple of times and I had to keep it a secret. I always thought it was extremely privileged knowledge.
4. She doesn't ever complain. Seriously, I don't know if I have ever heard her complain about something trivial. She get's upset when truly sad things happen, and I have seen her unhappy, but I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen her in a bad mood out of selfishness in my whole life time. With six kids and a husband who is a pastor, that's absolutely incredible.
5. She enjoys simple things and trusts God to take care of everything else. My mom doesn't worry or try and control or manipulate things. She just lets them happen and knows God is sovereign over them. She has always had this attitude towards the lives of us, her children - that she trusts God with us. Her trusting God with my life since before I was born has helped me to trust God with my life since I have left my family because it's the only thing I've ever known how to do.
Thank you mom, for being a remarkable woman. I love you very very much. And I can't wait to see you Friday!
1. As soon as my mother found out she was pregnant with me she started praying for me. She has continued to pray for me every day of my life.
2. She recently told me that the first thing she did when I was born (like right after I was cleaned off and given back to her) was to share the gospel with me. I still can't express how much that means to me - that the most important thing concerning me to my mother has always been my soul. This is so true that her very first words to me were about the amazing love of Christ.
3. She gave me five younger siblings who I love very dearly. I remember when I was little she told me she was pregnant before my dad a couple of times and I had to keep it a secret. I always thought it was extremely privileged knowledge.
4. She doesn't ever complain. Seriously, I don't know if I have ever heard her complain about something trivial. She get's upset when truly sad things happen, and I have seen her unhappy, but I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen her in a bad mood out of selfishness in my whole life time. With six kids and a husband who is a pastor, that's absolutely incredible.
5. She enjoys simple things and trusts God to take care of everything else. My mom doesn't worry or try and control or manipulate things. She just lets them happen and knows God is sovereign over them. She has always had this attitude towards the lives of us, her children - that she trusts God with us. Her trusting God with my life since before I was born has helped me to trust God with my life since I have left my family because it's the only thing I've ever known how to do.
Thank you mom, for being a remarkable woman. I love you very very much. And I can't wait to see you Friday!
Monday, May 4, 2009
Ode to Latin
I composed this poem during Latin class today. I feel it is a good explanation of my feelings towards Latin. I don't really know how to write poems, so forgive my lack of meter. I did my best to rhyme :).
Latin
This year I was made to study Latin
Just to satisfy my classics degree
Despite the pain I tried to grin
But thought, "This isn't for me!"
Whoever called it "dead" had good reason
For even the dead could understand
It's simple conjugations, declensions
Indeed, Latin really should be banned
Latin
This year I was made to study Latin
Just to satisfy my classics degree
Despite the pain I tried to grin
But thought, "This isn't for me!"
Whoever called it "dead" had good reason
For even the dead could understand
It's simple conjugations, declensions
Indeed, Latin really should be banned
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Jesus, Master, Whose I Am
Frances Havergal is very likely one of the most remarkable women I have ever read about. I read a mini-biography about her in a book titled Well With My Soul a couple of years ago. Her attitude towards worship and her almost-feisty passion for the glory of God has left a lasting impression on me. She was very smart, learning Hebrew, Greek and Latin at a very young age and memorizing Psalms, Isaiah, and most of the New Testament. When she was seven she composed her first poem:
Sunday is a pleasant day,
When we to church do go;
For there we sing and read and pray,
And hear the sermon too.
On Sunday hear the village bells;
It seems as if they said,
Go to the church where the pastor tells
How Christ for man has bled.
And if we love to pray and read
While we are in our youth,
The Lord will help us in our need
And keep us in His truth.
It is remarkable to me that this poem came out of a seven year old. She suffered many physical ailments throughout the course of her life, dying in 1879 at age 42. Her most well known hymn is "Take My Life and Let It Be."
The following hymn she wrote for her nephew.
Jesus, Master, Whose I Am
Text: Frances R. Havergal
Music: Jeremiah F. Ohl
Jesus, Master Whose I Am
Purchased Thine alone to be,
By Thy blood, O spotless Lamb,
Shed so willingly for me,
Let my heart be all Thine own,
Let me live for Thee alone.
Other lords have long held sway;
Now Thy Name alone to bear,
Thy dear voice alone obey,
Is my daily, hourly prayer;
Whom have I in heaven but Thee?
Nothing else my joy can be.
Jesus, Master, whom I serve,
Though so feebly and so ill,
Strengthen hand and heart and nerve
All Thy bidding to fulfill;
Open Thou mine eyes to see
All the work Thou hast for me.
Lord, Thou needest not, I know,
Service such as I can bring,
Yet I long to prove and show
Full allegiance to my King.
Jesus, let me always be
In Thy service glad and free.
Jesus, Master, I am Thine;
Keep me faithful, keep me near;
Let Thy presence in me shine
All my homeward way to cheer,
Jesus, at Thy feet I fall,
O be Thou my all in all.
Sunday is a pleasant day,
When we to church do go;
For there we sing and read and pray,
And hear the sermon too.
On Sunday hear the village bells;
It seems as if they said,
Go to the church where the pastor tells
How Christ for man has bled.
And if we love to pray and read
While we are in our youth,
The Lord will help us in our need
And keep us in His truth.
It is remarkable to me that this poem came out of a seven year old. She suffered many physical ailments throughout the course of her life, dying in 1879 at age 42. Her most well known hymn is "Take My Life and Let It Be."
The following hymn she wrote for her nephew.
Jesus, Master, Whose I Am
Text: Frances R. Havergal
Music: Jeremiah F. Ohl
Jesus, Master Whose I Am
Purchased Thine alone to be,
By Thy blood, O spotless Lamb,
Shed so willingly for me,
Let my heart be all Thine own,
Let me live for Thee alone.
Other lords have long held sway;
Now Thy Name alone to bear,
Thy dear voice alone obey,
Is my daily, hourly prayer;
Whom have I in heaven but Thee?
Nothing else my joy can be.
Jesus, Master, whom I serve,
Though so feebly and so ill,
Strengthen hand and heart and nerve
All Thy bidding to fulfill;
Open Thou mine eyes to see
All the work Thou hast for me.
Lord, Thou needest not, I know,
Service such as I can bring,
Yet I long to prove and show
Full allegiance to my King.
Jesus, let me always be
In Thy service glad and free.
Jesus, Master, I am Thine;
Keep me faithful, keep me near;
Let Thy presence in me shine
All my homeward way to cheer,
Jesus, at Thy feet I fall,
O be Thou my all in all.
Friday, April 24, 2009
The Last Installment of: The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome)
Anyhow, Melanie Marie continued to the garden where she met up with the young and handsome prince of the humions who would be informing her of her first job.
"I am very confused,"Melanie Marie tried to convince the prince so that he would not remember to give her a job, "But I think I was supposed to meet you here."
"Yes you were, and unfortunately for you, your emotions are not contagious to me, because I am of royal blood. But Melanie, may I call you that? Melanie, I cannot find it in my heart to make our servant. You see, my dearest, I am in love with you. I know I am a humion and that you are a gnome, but we could elope and start our own race. That would be so romantic."
"Um, maybe I missed it, but what was your name again? And until breakfast I had never even met you, how could you possibly love me?"
"Oh, I am a fool, I poured out my heart to you before I had even introduced myself," he said bending down on one knee, "Will you marry me?"
"WHAT?!" she exclaimed, "You still haven't even told me your name! And you are freaking me out, I am going to leave!"
"My dearest, was that a yes? Oh you have made me the happiest humion ever! Let us go at once to the chapel!"
"That was a no! I can't marry you! I don't even know your name! I am going to leave! Goodbye!" She yelled as she ran out of the garden.
Normally the prince would have followed her, but he was so heartbroken that he fell on the ground and began hallucinating images of the life he would never have with Melanie Marie.
As she ran through the city gates, a sudden blanket of guilt rushed over her. Had she too quickly left a place where she was treated so generously? Was the prince really in love with her? And if he was, did her rude words pulverize any sense of manly pride he had, to the point where he would never be able to rule his kingdom of humions? Somewhat regretfully she kept pushing forward, one step at a time. She decided that nothing was worth becoming a servant, and so she never looked back.
It was soon nightfall, and she was glad to be alone and free once again. The stars sparkled and the trees sang, the wind blew her hair gracefully back into the cool night air. She began to sing with the trees and dance with the wind; she turned about in circles filled with a bubbling joy she never thought was possible to experience. It was like all of a sudden her whole being was at peace...slowly she began to drift off into an ever so peaceful sleep.
The End.
"I am very confused,"Melanie Marie tried to convince the prince so that he would not remember to give her a job, "But I think I was supposed to meet you here."
"Yes you were, and unfortunately for you, your emotions are not contagious to me, because I am of royal blood. But Melanie, may I call you that? Melanie, I cannot find it in my heart to make our servant. You see, my dearest, I am in love with you. I know I am a humion and that you are a gnome, but we could elope and start our own race. That would be so romantic."
"Um, maybe I missed it, but what was your name again? And until breakfast I had never even met you, how could you possibly love me?"
"Oh, I am a fool, I poured out my heart to you before I had even introduced myself," he said bending down on one knee, "Will you marry me?"
"WHAT?!" she exclaimed, "You still haven't even told me your name! And you are freaking me out, I am going to leave!"
"My dearest, was that a yes? Oh you have made me the happiest humion ever! Let us go at once to the chapel!"
"That was a no! I can't marry you! I don't even know your name! I am going to leave! Goodbye!" She yelled as she ran out of the garden.
Normally the prince would have followed her, but he was so heartbroken that he fell on the ground and began hallucinating images of the life he would never have with Melanie Marie.
As she ran through the city gates, a sudden blanket of guilt rushed over her. Had she too quickly left a place where she was treated so generously? Was the prince really in love with her? And if he was, did her rude words pulverize any sense of manly pride he had, to the point where he would never be able to rule his kingdom of humions? Somewhat regretfully she kept pushing forward, one step at a time. She decided that nothing was worth becoming a servant, and so she never looked back.
It was soon nightfall, and she was glad to be alone and free once again. The stars sparkled and the trees sang, the wind blew her hair gracefully back into the cool night air. She began to sing with the trees and dance with the wind; she turned about in circles filled with a bubbling joy she never thought was possible to experience. It was like all of a sudden her whole being was at peace...slowly she began to drift off into an ever so peaceful sleep.
The End.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
There is a Fountain
Well, it's Thursday once again. This week Hannah Dyk requested the hymn I will post. It was written by a man named William Cowper, who spent most of his life with physical and mental ailments which caused him a great amount of pain. He was taken in by John Newton (the former slave-trader who wrote Amazing Grace) who gave him work he could accomplish despite his illnesses. He built for Cowper a study garden where he could be alone and enjoy nature and write poems. Newton encouraged Cowper to write hymns for weekly prayer meetings. Together they wrote the Olney book of hymns. This hymn, There is a Fountain, is Cowper's most well known. If you want to read more about William Cowper, click here (it's where I got this info).
There is a Fountain
Text: William Cowper
Music: Lowell Mason
There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains:
Lose all their guilty stains,
Lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day,
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away:
Wash all my sins away,
Wash all my sins away;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.
Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow'r
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more:
Be saved to sin no more,
Be saved to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more.
E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme
And shall be till I die:
And shall be till I die,
And shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme
And shall be till I die.
When this poor lisping, stamm'ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save:
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save,
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save;
And in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save.
There is a Fountain
Text: William Cowper
Music: Lowell Mason
There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains:
Lose all their guilty stains,
Lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day,
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away:
Wash all my sins away,
Wash all my sins away;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.
Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow'r
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more:
Be saved to sin no more,
Be saved to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more.
E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme
And shall be till I die:
And shall be till I die,
And shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme
And shall be till I die.
When this poor lisping, stamm'ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save:
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save,
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save;
And in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Hymn of the Week
This week, I have chosen to post Caleb's favorite Christmas song, "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing."
According to Songsandhymns.org, it was common during this time period for ministers to write a song poem to sing/recite at the end of their sermon. Robert Robinson wrote this hymn for that reason when he was 23.
Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Text: Robert Robinson (1735-1790)
Music: Wyeth's Repository of Sacred Music, Part Second
Text: Robert Robinson (1735-1790)
Music: Wyeth's Repository of Sacred Music, Part Second
Come, thou Fount of every blessing,
tune my heart to sing thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,
mount of Thy redeeming love.
Here I raise mine Ebenezer;
hither by thy help I'm come;
and I hope, by thy good pleasure,
safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
wandering from the fold of God;
he, to rescue me from danger,
interposed his precious blood.
O to grace how great a debtor
daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love;
here's my heart, O take and seal it,
seal it for thy courts above.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Modesty of the heart...
Here is an interesting blog about modesty of the spirit. It's geared towards single women, but I think it's helpful for all of us. It is still important for us not-so-single women to use modesty and discretion. For men, it is important to understand when to "not allow" a woman to share too much information with you - for the sake of guarding her heart and your own.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Hymn of the Week
I really like hymns and I think that they offer lots of wisdom. So, I have decided to start posting a hymn every Thursday. I picked the following hymn because Easter is this weekend and I think it fits nicely. I have always thought this hymn paints a vivid picture of Christ on the cross. It's quite a lengthy one, but it just doesn't feel right to edit out some of the verses simply because it's long.
O Sacred Head Now Wounded
Text: Anonymous; Translation: Paul Gerhardt and James W. Alexander
Music: Hans L. Hassler
Remind me of Thy passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfolds Thee. Who dieth thus dies well.
O Sacred Head Now Wounded
Text: Anonymous; Translation: Paul Gerhardt and James W. Alexander
Music: Hans L. Hassler
O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
How pale Thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish, which once was bright as morn!
What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! ’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.
Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.
How art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright as morn!
Now from Thy cheeks has vanished their color once so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in this sad strife.
My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression which brought this woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee; Redeemer, spurn me not!
What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.
My Shepherd, now receive me; my Guardian, own me Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me, O source of gifts divine.
Thy lips have often fed me with words of truth and love;
Thy Spirit oft hath led me to heavenly joys above.
Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will not part;
O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving heart,
When soul and body languish in death’s cold, cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I’ll clasp.
The joy can never be spoken, above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of Life, desiring Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring, I’d breathe my soul to Thee.
My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me nevermore!
When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not alone,
But take away mine anguish by virtue of Thine own!
Remind me of Thy passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfolds Thee. Who dieth thus dies well.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome)...Part 5
When she woke up she was laying in the most beautiful and graceful room she had ever seen, lined with a golden rim around the ceiling. The bed was made with silk sheets and pillow cases and a down-feather comforter. It was so comfortable she felt at one with the bed. There was an assortment of clothes laid out for her choosing, and a mirror that took up an entire wall! The silk drapes we drawn and the sun was shining brightly through the windows. Birds were chirping and she could smell a glorious breakfast being prepared.
As she hurried into her clothes there was a knock at the door.
"One moment!" she called scrambling to the door.
"Take your time, dearie, I just wanted to let you know breakfast will be served as soon as you are ready to eat!" an informing, yet gentle, older woman's voice came.
She felt overcome with kindness and warm hospitality, so much so that the guilt that haunted the back of her mind for leaving her sister was forgotten. She strolled to the breakfast table where she was presented with a feast of everything she ever dreamed of for breakfast.
The table seemed to glow, as the kindly old humion woman served her, as if she were royalty. She ate until she thought she could not possibly eat ever again.
"This meal was so very wonderful! Thank you for fixing it for me, Aeona!" Melanie Marie exclaimed with gratitude. She made sure to thank the sweet humion who had opened her home to her and fed her this meal fit for a queen.
"Oh it's nothing compared to what you will do for us," Aeona replied.
"I don't understand," Melanie Marie said, as a look of confusion spread over her face. She had no idea what to expect.
"Soon you will, child," came a man's voice from behind her,"When your meal is done please meet me in the garden."
Melanie Marie was very confused. All this time she had thought she was going to enjoy the humions hospitality, while actually they were giving her all these things so that she would be afraid to live without them. That way, when they made her start working, she would not want to leave. But, as you know, her emotions were contagious to the humions, and since she was so awfully confused, so were the humions.
I am sure that if you were there would have been on the floor laughing with energetic glee. Everywhere Melanie looked she saw messes upon messes. One room was extremely confused. Instead of mopping the floor, they were trying to mop the ceiling. Now that in itself is not very funny, but since they were mopping with melted marshmellows, and the goo and stick was dripping all over them, their manes got all stuck together. It was quite a humorous site.
To Be Continued...
As she hurried into her clothes there was a knock at the door.
"One moment!" she called scrambling to the door.
"Take your time, dearie, I just wanted to let you know breakfast will be served as soon as you are ready to eat!" an informing, yet gentle, older woman's voice came.
She felt overcome with kindness and warm hospitality, so much so that the guilt that haunted the back of her mind for leaving her sister was forgotten. She strolled to the breakfast table where she was presented with a feast of everything she ever dreamed of for breakfast.
The table seemed to glow, as the kindly old humion woman served her, as if she were royalty. She ate until she thought she could not possibly eat ever again.
"This meal was so very wonderful! Thank you for fixing it for me, Aeona!" Melanie Marie exclaimed with gratitude. She made sure to thank the sweet humion who had opened her home to her and fed her this meal fit for a queen.
"Oh it's nothing compared to what you will do for us," Aeona replied.
"I don't understand," Melanie Marie said, as a look of confusion spread over her face. She had no idea what to expect.
"Soon you will, child," came a man's voice from behind her,"When your meal is done please meet me in the garden."
Melanie Marie was very confused. All this time she had thought she was going to enjoy the humions hospitality, while actually they were giving her all these things so that she would be afraid to live without them. That way, when they made her start working, she would not want to leave. But, as you know, her emotions were contagious to the humions, and since she was so awfully confused, so were the humions.
I am sure that if you were there would have been on the floor laughing with energetic glee. Everywhere Melanie looked she saw messes upon messes. One room was extremely confused. Instead of mopping the floor, they were trying to mop the ceiling. Now that in itself is not very funny, but since they were mopping with melted marshmellows, and the goo and stick was dripping all over them, their manes got all stuck together. It was quite a humorous site.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I'm a Proud Sister
This second one is his suicide song. It's a little longer, and you have to wait about two minutes for his entrance, but definitely worth watching :).
If you are viewing this on Facebook, you must click on "view original post" to be able to see the videos.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Refuge in the Midst of the Flood
I have been reading through the Psalms lately, and have been thinking a lot about how God Himself is the refuge for those who love Him.
This week, intense and heartbreaking as it has been, I found myself walking outside and laughing almost uncontrollably at times. I don't think I laughed because the flood is funny, because it definitely isn't, but I think the severity of the weather was so ridiculous to me that it made me laugh. God has shown His power this week - which we, the church, often pray for - and it has been devastating to many people's lives. Isn't that how God works? He must devastate what we think is good and comfortable and "safe" in order for us to see His power and get over ourselves.
This seems extreme sometimes, and often in painful, uncomfortable situations I wonder why God must seem so cruel. But I have realized something this week that excites me. The God who can devastate a city built up for a hundred or more years in one week is the same God who is my refuge. The power and glory of His devastating hand becomes a refuge when it is turned towards us who are His children. I couldn't be comforted more, and maybe understanding this is what caused my laughter. There is a deep joy that fills me knowing that this God who can stop all order and command the river is a faithful and eternal refuge to me.
Pastor Steve read Psalm 46 this morning, and it's one that I deeply appreciate, so I thought I would share it.
1God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
2Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change
And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea;
3Though its waters roar and foam,
Though the mountains quake at its swelling pride. Selah.
4There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
The holy dwelling places of the Most High.
5God is in the midst of her, she will not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
6The nations made an uproar, the kingdoms tottered;
He raised His voice, the earth melted.
7The LORD of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah.
8Come, behold the works of the LORD,
Who has wrought desolations in the earth.
9He makes wars to cease to the end of the earth;
He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two;
He burns the chariots with fire.
10"Cease striving and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."
11The LORD of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah.
Martin Luther wrote a song that goes along with this Psalm: "A Mighty Fortress is our God"
Praise be to the God of this flood, and all things, who is our ever-present refuge in times of need.
This week, intense and heartbreaking as it has been, I found myself walking outside and laughing almost uncontrollably at times. I don't think I laughed because the flood is funny, because it definitely isn't, but I think the severity of the weather was so ridiculous to me that it made me laugh. God has shown His power this week - which we, the church, often pray for - and it has been devastating to many people's lives. Isn't that how God works? He must devastate what we think is good and comfortable and "safe" in order for us to see His power and get over ourselves.
This seems extreme sometimes, and often in painful, uncomfortable situations I wonder why God must seem so cruel. But I have realized something this week that excites me. The God who can devastate a city built up for a hundred or more years in one week is the same God who is my refuge. The power and glory of His devastating hand becomes a refuge when it is turned towards us who are His children. I couldn't be comforted more, and maybe understanding this is what caused my laughter. There is a deep joy that fills me knowing that this God who can stop all order and command the river is a faithful and eternal refuge to me.
Pastor Steve read Psalm 46 this morning, and it's one that I deeply appreciate, so I thought I would share it.
1God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
2Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change
And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea;
3Though its waters roar and foam,
Though the mountains quake at its swelling pride. Selah.
4There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
The holy dwelling places of the Most High.
5God is in the midst of her, she will not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
6The nations made an uproar, the kingdoms tottered;
He raised His voice, the earth melted.
7The LORD of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah.
8Come, behold the works of the LORD,
Who has wrought desolations in the earth.
9He makes wars to cease to the end of the earth;
He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two;
He burns the chariots with fire.
10"Cease striving and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."
11The LORD of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah.
Martin Luther wrote a song that goes along with this Psalm: "A Mighty Fortress is our God"
A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.
Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.
And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.
That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome)...Part Four
She sat there, dead in her fear, not knowing what to do, when all of a sudden she began to whimper, and then to cry, and then to bellow. With that all the humions stopped gnashing their terrible teeth, and so on. Strangely, they all began to cry too. Between sobs and bellows and whimpers they tried to figure out what was going on!
When Melanie Marie realized what was happening, she started to giggle, and then to laugh, and then to combust with outrageous laughter! All of a sudden the humions did the same, and they did it completely against their will! Finally, Melanie Marie gained her composure and started to address the funny beasts.
"Dear Sirs, please disregard all of those terrible stories you have heard about me!" she exclaimed eloquently," I am just passing through perhaps it would be alright if I visit your village, I would love to see it."
"So you are the one that was said to be so vicious?" one of the humions spoke up.
"I suppose, but you were quite mistaken! I am not vicious at all!" she replied with a sweet smile and a cheery face.Her charm tamed the beasts in an instant, they could not bring themselves to do any harm to the little gnome. What Melanie Marie didn't seem to notice was that her emotions were contagious to the humions.
"Let's sing for her!" the lead humion cried out in pure joy, which he had acquired due to Melanie Marie's overpowering happiness. The others agreed immediately. So, the humions, beaming their brightest, lifter their rich, jovial voices and began to sing a most wonderful song.
Melanie Marie thought she was in Heaven. When she was a gnomeling she had always heard tales of the beautiful songs of the humions. The real thing, however, was much more exuberant and beautiful than anyone could have ever described. She suddenly drifted off into a deep sleep, unaware of how exhausted she had actually been.
When Melanie Marie realized what was happening, she started to giggle, and then to laugh, and then to combust with outrageous laughter! All of a sudden the humions did the same, and they did it completely against their will! Finally, Melanie Marie gained her composure and started to address the funny beasts.
"Dear Sirs, please disregard all of those terrible stories you have heard about me!" she exclaimed eloquently," I am just passing through perhaps it would be alright if I visit your village, I would love to see it."
"So you are the one that was said to be so vicious?" one of the humions spoke up.
"I suppose, but you were quite mistaken! I am not vicious at all!" she replied with a sweet smile and a cheery face.Her charm tamed the beasts in an instant, they could not bring themselves to do any harm to the little gnome. What Melanie Marie didn't seem to notice was that her emotions were contagious to the humions.
"Let's sing for her!" the lead humion cried out in pure joy, which he had acquired due to Melanie Marie's overpowering happiness. The others agreed immediately. So, the humions, beaming their brightest, lifter their rich, jovial voices and began to sing a most wonderful song.
Melanie Marie thought she was in Heaven. When she was a gnomeling she had always heard tales of the beautiful songs of the humions. The real thing, however, was much more exuberant and beautiful than anyone could have ever described. She suddenly drifted off into a deep sleep, unaware of how exhausted she had actually been.
Monday, March 23, 2009
We Interrupt this Story to Highlight a Good Blog by Al Mohler...
Albert Mohler is the President of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary (SBTS), where Caleb and I will be attending next year. His blog this morning was really good (typically they are, since he is some sort of crazy genius). He makes some great points concerning gender equality within the church. It's something I tend to think about a lot, so I thought I would share. You can read his post here: A "Stained-Glass Ceiling?" A Clarifying Look at a Controversial Question.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome) ... Part Three
Gazing at the new, unexplored world around her, Melanie Marie trampled through the forest in fear of every next step she took. This was all new to her, everything was so big and unfamiliar, yet she knew that the only way was to swallow her fear and go forward into the unknown. So forward she went, deep into the forest, where the trees towering over her head seemed to engulf her and the tall grass hid her from view, and not once did she look back.
For days on end she traveled through the woods, not knowing what she would encounter. After traveling for what seemed like forever, she thought she could faintly hear people talking in the far off distance.
"Am I hallucinating, or is there really someone out there?" she said quietly to herself as she stopped dead in her tracks. She didn't know what to do, but she had to think fast.
She decided to make her camp early that night so she could listen in on the conversation she thought she heard from off in the trees. Besides, if she really did hear voices, how would she know if they had friendly intentions? For all she knew, she could be overhearing the bellicose war cries of the cannibalistic monsters she was warned about in the fairy tales of her childhood. She had to know more; there was no chancing anything while she was all alone in a foreign land. After she had made a fire, and piled some leaves up to sleep upon, she settled in to listen more intently to the voices. She couldn't make out if they were woman or man, gnome or monkey, as a matter of fact she could hardly make out what they were saying.
"Have you heard of the little gnome who forsook her tasks of randomness and fled from her city?" she strained to decipher. "It is said she is travelling this way, and that she has come as a threat to over-throw any sanity she stumbles across."
Melanie Marie giggled softly to herself, when the voices seemed to get louder. She hurried to put out the fire that might foolishly give her away, but she was too late. She had only heard two voices but somehow she seemed to be surrounded by a multitude of humions! These half-human half-lion beasts closed in on her while they gnashed their terrible teeth, and flexed their terrible claws, and shook their terrible manes! She sat there, dead in her fear, not knowing what to do...
For days on end she traveled through the woods, not knowing what she would encounter. After traveling for what seemed like forever, she thought she could faintly hear people talking in the far off distance.
"Am I hallucinating, or is there really someone out there?" she said quietly to herself as she stopped dead in her tracks. She didn't know what to do, but she had to think fast.
She decided to make her camp early that night so she could listen in on the conversation she thought she heard from off in the trees. Besides, if she really did hear voices, how would she know if they had friendly intentions? For all she knew, she could be overhearing the bellicose war cries of the cannibalistic monsters she was warned about in the fairy tales of her childhood. She had to know more; there was no chancing anything while she was all alone in a foreign land. After she had made a fire, and piled some leaves up to sleep upon, she settled in to listen more intently to the voices. She couldn't make out if they were woman or man, gnome or monkey, as a matter of fact she could hardly make out what they were saying.
"Have you heard of the little gnome who forsook her tasks of randomness and fled from her city?" she strained to decipher. "It is said she is travelling this way, and that she has come as a threat to over-throw any sanity she stumbles across."
Melanie Marie giggled softly to herself, when the voices seemed to get louder. She hurried to put out the fire that might foolishly give her away, but she was too late. She had only heard two voices but somehow she seemed to be surrounded by a multitude of humions! These half-human half-lion beasts closed in on her while they gnashed their terrible teeth, and flexed their terrible claws, and shook their terrible manes! She sat there, dead in her fear, not knowing what to do...
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome) ... Continued
Make sure to read the beginning of the story in the previous post.
'What an awkward way to start a day as wonderful as this one is going to be,' she thought. You see, her sister, Melanie Marie was going to prove her womanhood. She had been training for what seemed like years, but no amount of training had ever helped anyone else do any better. How it usually worked was all the people in the village would come together to watch her complete "The Tasks of Randomness." No one had ever gotten the same two tasks, that's why it was so difficult to train. The borraner, which we now call the mayor, would assign five tasks to be completed in two days.
She arrived home breathless from her early morning dash through the garden, and she was still a bit dazed from all that had already happened. She was determined, however, to help her sister in every way she possibly could.
"Melanie Marie! Where are you my dear sister?" She cried as she walked through the door. She just had to find Melanie Marie as soon as she could to help her and encourage her.
The day was shaping out to be a lovely one. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, there was no hint of rain, and there was a slight breeze, making it the most agreeable weather. She was sure Melanie Marie would be able to complete her tasks of randomness, especially if the weather held out.
"Adelle, did you call me? Where are you?" her sister called as she came down the stairs.
"I am in here dear sister, I know this means so much to you, as it does to me, but I don't think I am going to go through with it. Womanhood will come whether or not I pass the tasks of randomness."
"Or course it will, but this will make you name blessed in our little city. You are just nervous. Now, let's get ready."
"I am nervous, but that has nothing to do with me not wanting to do my tasks! I don't want people to know me because of what I did, I want them to know me because of who I am."
"Oh nonsense! You will complete these tasks and then you will be engaged to whomever the matchmaker sees fit. In two weeks you could be married!"
"Adelle! You are not listening to me! I want to fall in love! Not to be matched up with a strange gnome! I am packed and ready to leave, I will be going as far away from here as possible."
"You can't just not show up tonight! You have to be there! The whole town will be waiting for you! I have been waiting for this moment for three years!"
"So that is why I have to do this. You never completed your tasks of randomness and you are going to make sure I will. Well, I am not going to. I am leaving. You can very easily inform the borraner why I could not make it. I love you, sister, and I pray I see you again someday."
And with that she ran out her door with nothing but a few days worth of food and a few clothes. Suddenly, she realized she had never left her quaint little village, and a chill went up her spine. There was a huge world out there, and it was her time to face it.
To Be Continued...
'What an awkward way to start a day as wonderful as this one is going to be,' she thought. You see, her sister, Melanie Marie was going to prove her womanhood. She had been training for what seemed like years, but no amount of training had ever helped anyone else do any better. How it usually worked was all the people in the village would come together to watch her complete "The Tasks of Randomness." No one had ever gotten the same two tasks, that's why it was so difficult to train. The borraner, which we now call the mayor, would assign five tasks to be completed in two days.
She arrived home breathless from her early morning dash through the garden, and she was still a bit dazed from all that had already happened. She was determined, however, to help her sister in every way she possibly could.
"Melanie Marie! Where are you my dear sister?" She cried as she walked through the door. She just had to find Melanie Marie as soon as she could to help her and encourage her.
The day was shaping out to be a lovely one. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, there was no hint of rain, and there was a slight breeze, making it the most agreeable weather. She was sure Melanie Marie would be able to complete her tasks of randomness, especially if the weather held out.
"Adelle, did you call me? Where are you?" her sister called as she came down the stairs.
"I am in here dear sister, I know this means so much to you, as it does to me, but I don't think I am going to go through with it. Womanhood will come whether or not I pass the tasks of randomness."
"Or course it will, but this will make you name blessed in our little city. You are just nervous. Now, let's get ready."
"I am nervous, but that has nothing to do with me not wanting to do my tasks! I don't want people to know me because of what I did, I want them to know me because of who I am."
"Oh nonsense! You will complete these tasks and then you will be engaged to whomever the matchmaker sees fit. In two weeks you could be married!"
"Adelle! You are not listening to me! I want to fall in love! Not to be matched up with a strange gnome! I am packed and ready to leave, I will be going as far away from here as possible."
"You can't just not show up tonight! You have to be there! The whole town will be waiting for you! I have been waiting for this moment for three years!"
"So that is why I have to do this. You never completed your tasks of randomness and you are going to make sure I will. Well, I am not going to. I am leaving. You can very easily inform the borraner why I could not make it. I love you, sister, and I pray I see you again someday."
And with that she ran out her door with nothing but a few days worth of food and a few clothes. Suddenly, she realized she had never left her quaint little village, and a chill went up her spine. There was a huge world out there, and it was her time to face it.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome)
The other night Caleb, Jordan, and I were talking about kid's literature and reminiscing about stories we had written when we were younger. I decided that I would take the next few blog posts to share a story with you that I wrote when I was fourteen with a good friend of mine. I moved to North Dakota from Florida, and we decided to write this story via email paragraph by paragraph. In other words, I would write a paragraph and email it to her, and she would write a paragraph and email it to me. We built off of each other, and this is what we came up with.
The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome) By: Ashley Burton and Rebekah (Reeves) Drahosh
All of a sudden, she heard a boisterous sound coming from the garden! She ran with all her might out to see what might be haunting her yard, and when she saw it, she stopped dead in her tracks. Screaming, she hurried to get a stick, and then charged full speed ahead at the flying beast.
"Ooo ooo ooo," it yelled as she violently struck it on the head,"Stop stop stop!"
Nervously she backed away, shaking in her little dress. It was a monkey! A flying monkey! She didn't know what to think. Thoughts raced through her mind like water rushes over a cliff. She had never, ever, in her most ridiculous dreams, ever thought of finding a flying monkey in her garden! Was it an illusion or was this really a flying monkey?
"What in the blue sky's name do you think you are doing hitting me with that stick of yours?!" the creature roared. He was mad; there was no denying it. He got up and stomped over to her in a blatant fury and began to yell in her face.
"You could have really hurt me, little missy! It's bad enough I fell out of the sky like a dead duck just shot down, and then you attack me with a piece of tree? I fear there is no end to this world of madness! What have we come to when even the noblest of flying primates can no longer fly freely?!"
All the poor gnome wanted to do was protect her garden...and regretfully she did just that. The horrible schizophrenic monkey was gone as quickly as he had arrived, leaving nothing but a poor little garden gnome shaking in her garden. Slowly but surely she reassembled herself, and then she went back to her busy days work.
To Be Continued...
The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome) By: Ashley Burton and Rebekah (Reeves) Drahosh
All of a sudden, she heard a boisterous sound coming from the garden! She ran with all her might out to see what might be haunting her yard, and when she saw it, she stopped dead in her tracks. Screaming, she hurried to get a stick, and then charged full speed ahead at the flying beast.
"Ooo ooo ooo," it yelled as she violently struck it on the head,"Stop stop stop!"
Nervously she backed away, shaking in her little dress. It was a monkey! A flying monkey! She didn't know what to think. Thoughts raced through her mind like water rushes over a cliff. She had never, ever, in her most ridiculous dreams, ever thought of finding a flying monkey in her garden! Was it an illusion or was this really a flying monkey?
"What in the blue sky's name do you think you are doing hitting me with that stick of yours?!" the creature roared. He was mad; there was no denying it. He got up and stomped over to her in a blatant fury and began to yell in her face.
"You could have really hurt me, little missy! It's bad enough I fell out of the sky like a dead duck just shot down, and then you attack me with a piece of tree? I fear there is no end to this world of madness! What have we come to when even the noblest of flying primates can no longer fly freely?!"
All the poor gnome wanted to do was protect her garden...and regretfully she did just that. The horrible schizophrenic monkey was gone as quickly as he had arrived, leaving nothing but a poor little garden gnome shaking in her garden. Slowly but surely she reassembled herself, and then she went back to her busy days work.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Thanks to Grandma, I won't ever have a stroke.
In some places of the deep south, tea supplements water in many folks diet. I have been drinking hot tea since I was three years old (maybe younger). When we would visit grandma, she would always wake up super early in the morning (5:30 or 6) to read the morning paper, eat a piece of peanut butter toast, and drink her hot tea. I would wake up shortly after her (usually before everyone else) and sneak down stairs to watch her read her paper and help her drink her hot tea. Eventually, she just started making me my own hot tea.
As a child, I drank tea regularly - if not hot in the morning, then iced for dinner at night. When I hit college, that tea addiction grew, and I proudly say I usually drink two cups of hot tea a day.
Today, I was driving and I heard that a new study was recently done by UCLA concerning the correlation of reduced strokes and tea consumption. I was pleased to hear that people who drink 3 cups of tea daily (black or green) are 21% less likely to have a stroke. This isn't entirely proven, but it's probable. You can read about it here.
Needless to say, I will be drinking more tea. And if you ever come over, I will offer you a cup of tea as well.
As a child, I drank tea regularly - if not hot in the morning, then iced for dinner at night. When I hit college, that tea addiction grew, and I proudly say I usually drink two cups of hot tea a day.
Today, I was driving and I heard that a new study was recently done by UCLA concerning the correlation of reduced strokes and tea consumption. I was pleased to hear that people who drink 3 cups of tea daily (black or green) are 21% less likely to have a stroke. This isn't entirely proven, but it's probable. You can read about it here.
Needless to say, I will be drinking more tea. And if you ever come over, I will offer you a cup of tea as well.
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