Who am I?
Deep down inside, where the heart pumps, sending blood coursing through my veins?
What are my dreams when I close my eyes? What are my hopes, my fancies, my wildest imaginings? And how do they fit with this body I live in, this humanity that covers my soul?
Who is this person, and what are her goals, and where is she going?
And so I begin a questioning and serious thinking as I try to define even more who I am. More blogging will come from this. I've begun already a little the past few days. But more ideas of who I am will come trickling up from the depths.
I'm thinking of my future and where it might be going.
I'm dreaming of my home and lifestyle and way of doing life.
I'm imagining different paths to take.
I'm examining my passions and joys.
I'm captivating these glimpses and putting to words what I see.
Some things may appear here. Some will be written on my heart, for others to discover later.
Who am I?
Just Katie.
Showing posts with label Where Am I?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Where Am I?. Show all posts
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Transformed
Life is such a transformative process. Its never still, always moving and changing you, if you let it. If you're living passionately and fully. And as you live, you change, transforming into a person you never thought of before. Its beautiful and mysterious, and it all fits together in a way that can't always be explained. Any attempts to define it turn into an emphatic shake of the head, and a "that's life!" comment.
Every so often I suddenly awaken to the fact that I have changed or moved on to being someone I never thought of before for myself. I take a quick look around and realize that the Katie that used to be has morphed into the Katie of today, and often its like watercolors that have bled from pastel to vibrancy, or from one color to another, becoming an interesting riot of yellows or pinks, blending into oranges or purples, fading into an entirely new shade.
Every so often I realize that the passions or interests or reactions have all changed, and I'm doing things or going places I never thought I'd see myself do or go. New paths are taken, the old ones never to return. Its interesting, to take an observer standpoint and review my life, watching myself as a movie, as it were. I wonder how the story will end, because I get to a certain point and suddenly realize there is only future left, no more history to remember. It remains to be made.
Things happen on the journey, new places open up new vistas and thoughts, and experiences introduce new ideas of possibility. And in the blink of an eye, a snapshot is made, is set into history, and things all change again.
And here we go again, into a new being, transforming again. I hope it is transforming into a better person, with lessons learned. I hope it is with wisdom and joy and depth that I change, becoming more of a well-rounded, healthy person.
I have to let it happen though. I have to allow the changes of ideas and let go of the past long enough to embrace what comes next. To allow the pain of difference to heal into a stronger version of myself.
I have to allow Christ to change my innermost being, transform me into a new Katie, and embrace the work it takes to keep on changing, to keep on following His new paths within me. Because isn't that the ultimate goal? To become more like Him, mirroring Him as much as possible within ourselves. To follow His examples and to allow our lives to show His love?
Transformational.
Every so often I suddenly awaken to the fact that I have changed or moved on to being someone I never thought of before for myself. I take a quick look around and realize that the Katie that used to be has morphed into the Katie of today, and often its like watercolors that have bled from pastel to vibrancy, or from one color to another, becoming an interesting riot of yellows or pinks, blending into oranges or purples, fading into an entirely new shade.
Every so often I realize that the passions or interests or reactions have all changed, and I'm doing things or going places I never thought I'd see myself do or go. New paths are taken, the old ones never to return. Its interesting, to take an observer standpoint and review my life, watching myself as a movie, as it were. I wonder how the story will end, because I get to a certain point and suddenly realize there is only future left, no more history to remember. It remains to be made.
Things happen on the journey, new places open up new vistas and thoughts, and experiences introduce new ideas of possibility. And in the blink of an eye, a snapshot is made, is set into history, and things all change again.
And here we go again, into a new being, transforming again. I hope it is transforming into a better person, with lessons learned. I hope it is with wisdom and joy and depth that I change, becoming more of a well-rounded, healthy person.
I have to let it happen though. I have to allow the changes of ideas and let go of the past long enough to embrace what comes next. To allow the pain of difference to heal into a stronger version of myself.
I have to allow Christ to change my innermost being, transform me into a new Katie, and embrace the work it takes to keep on changing, to keep on following His new paths within me. Because isn't that the ultimate goal? To become more like Him, mirroring Him as much as possible within ourselves. To follow His examples and to allow our lives to show His love?
Transformational.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Moving Onward
And here we go.
We begin a new year.
And the old one passes away, joining memories and become past. Becoming a part of our history.
A bittersweet change, from old to new. For me, tied up with endings and beginnings, and all sorts of new experiences and memories on the journey. But somehow, I am not sad to see it go. I will be glad to begin again, to go forward from here.
At times, you see, it has felt so hopeless to me. A hopeless place, where I'm just pacing, waiting and revisiting everything I've done before. Day comes, and the rounds go on, and night comes, only to bring day again, and have I moved forward?
At times, you see, it has felt like I've gathered dust.
Perhaps I haven't. Perhaps during those dust-gathering times I've been growing somehow, or grabbing onto grace somehow. Perhaps, its for a reason, but frustration has been tangible, too.
Perhaps, the grand things have been the moments of grace. Like living in Bolivia. Bolivia. I say the name and floods of thoughts, ideas, memories come. I say the name, and go into Spanish mode, thinking in Español a mi mismo and taste the rice and feel the itch of hundreds of mosquito bites again. Bolivia was the highlight of the year, the great lesson teacher, the shining months of happiness. I remember the first time I laughed in months was there. Really laughed, with head thrown back, eyes shut, laughing from my toes. Sun shining down on my head, sparkling in my eyes. I remember that laugh. I remember those moments.
I remember moments on a motorcycle, wind catching my hair and blowing it behind, giggling softly to myself, because the driver couldn't understand me, and I couldn't understand him, and we got lost together in his hometown, with me giving directions in a strange half Spanish, half sign language way. At last we found the place, and he smiled shyly and charged me much less than he should have, and we laughed together before he sped on to the next fare.
A grand thing, was teaching 5 little children, all who nestled into a little place in my heart. Washing hands, reading books, making paintings, sliding down the slide (teacher is sliding down the big slide- they giggled so much at that) and playing all sorts of games. I taught them to read and write letters, crooked as they may have been. They taught me joy in simple things like goldfish crackers, and friends who share.
Grand things, small things they seemed, too. Day by day things. Like catching those perfect shots on my camera. Like a few hours here and there in a coffee shop with a sibling. Like hours on the phone with my best friend. Like cherished emails and chats and time spent in special places, just being together. Golden moments. Small adventures. They gather together to create the dust of the clay of the whole year, becoming part of who I am.
Hard things, too. Many tears, my heart aching. Many times head down, working as hard as I could, lips tight in determination. Many nights spent studying, praying, writing as I endured.
Life. Vida. Its all a part of the journey.
No, I don't want to go back and begin this year again. I'd rather go forward. I'd rather move on. But I am grateful for lessons learned, for experiences lived through, for grace showered down from God.
And I look forward to the next one. I wait anxiously to see what happens. I search earnestly for Christ's leading.
Onward. Upward. Vaya con Dios. Viaje con Dios. Go with God. Journey with God.
We begin a new year.
And the old one passes away, joining memories and become past. Becoming a part of our history.
A bittersweet change, from old to new. For me, tied up with endings and beginnings, and all sorts of new experiences and memories on the journey. But somehow, I am not sad to see it go. I will be glad to begin again, to go forward from here.
At times, you see, it has felt so hopeless to me. A hopeless place, where I'm just pacing, waiting and revisiting everything I've done before. Day comes, and the rounds go on, and night comes, only to bring day again, and have I moved forward?
At times, you see, it has felt like I've gathered dust.
Perhaps I haven't. Perhaps during those dust-gathering times I've been growing somehow, or grabbing onto grace somehow. Perhaps, its for a reason, but frustration has been tangible, too.
Perhaps, the grand things have been the moments of grace. Like living in Bolivia. Bolivia. I say the name and floods of thoughts, ideas, memories come. I say the name, and go into Spanish mode, thinking in Español a mi mismo and taste the rice and feel the itch of hundreds of mosquito bites again. Bolivia was the highlight of the year, the great lesson teacher, the shining months of happiness. I remember the first time I laughed in months was there. Really laughed, with head thrown back, eyes shut, laughing from my toes. Sun shining down on my head, sparkling in my eyes. I remember that laugh. I remember those moments.
I remember moments on a motorcycle, wind catching my hair and blowing it behind, giggling softly to myself, because the driver couldn't understand me, and I couldn't understand him, and we got lost together in his hometown, with me giving directions in a strange half Spanish, half sign language way. At last we found the place, and he smiled shyly and charged me much less than he should have, and we laughed together before he sped on to the next fare.
A grand thing, was teaching 5 little children, all who nestled into a little place in my heart. Washing hands, reading books, making paintings, sliding down the slide (teacher is sliding down the big slide- they giggled so much at that) and playing all sorts of games. I taught them to read and write letters, crooked as they may have been. They taught me joy in simple things like goldfish crackers, and friends who share.
Grand things, small things they seemed, too. Day by day things. Like catching those perfect shots on my camera. Like a few hours here and there in a coffee shop with a sibling. Like hours on the phone with my best friend. Like cherished emails and chats and time spent in special places, just being together. Golden moments. Small adventures. They gather together to create the dust of the clay of the whole year, becoming part of who I am.
Hard things, too. Many tears, my heart aching. Many times head down, working as hard as I could, lips tight in determination. Many nights spent studying, praying, writing as I endured.
Life. Vida. Its all a part of the journey.
No, I don't want to go back and begin this year again. I'd rather go forward. I'd rather move on. But I am grateful for lessons learned, for experiences lived through, for grace showered down from God.
And I look forward to the next one. I wait anxiously to see what happens. I search earnestly for Christ's leading.
Onward. Upward. Vaya con Dios. Viaje con Dios. Go with God. Journey with God.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Disgusting Materialism
The past month or so I have been struck by materialism. And as the holiday season begins, it really causes me to notice it more and more. The materialism is just sickening to me.
I used to be just like the next one, and had lists of things I wanted for Christmas, or went shopping and wanted the things I saw. I was never brand loyal or interested in the latest technology or newest versions of things, but there was always something else I needed to be happy or live better.
Perhaps its because I spent the summer in an area of the world where they live with a much lower standard of living. Seeing people live joyously on so little puts things into perspective. Watching someone take crusts and leftovers off people's plates in a restaurant suddenly makes you want to clean your plate at home. Meeting little children who are hungry suddenly makes black Friday shopping seem much less...necessary.
Why do we do this? What does all the stuff even mean? Does it really make you happy to know that you have the latest $600 phone? Is it really a necessity? Does it really make you feel better about yourself to buy loads of new, shiny things? Things are meaningless. Things will go out of style, get broken or look less shiny. Things have a way of fading away, and then you can't remember what you even owned or had.
It all just makes me so disappointed to see people spending so much money and time on what lasts for moments or is quickly forgotten. We have things so backwards, and no one seems to realize, but rush on to the next item, or stand in line at the next sale to get the item that will make them happier or look better. And no one knows why, it seems. The money we spend on things for ourselves or our children...a fraction of that is someone else's daily living. And what are we spending it on?
The materialism is a problem when it grows so out of proportion with everything else, that it overshadows what is really important. How do you put into perspective what is necessary vs. what is superfluous?
I keep thinking of the line, "you can't take it with you." and I wonder, what happens to all the time spent on these things, when we die? What about all the money we've wasted? How is that accounted for when we're dead? What good did we do Steve Jobs by buying the newest version of the same product over and over again? What good did we do ourselves? And in the end, what did it all matter, really.
And then I think of the millions of people who just barely survive, much less worry about whether they have the things we deem necessary in our culture. Cable tv and internet on our cellphones. Some don't even have heated houses, or sufficient clothing. Not to mention decent food or water.
I'm generally feeling disgusted by it all, and especially this Christmas season. In the rush of buying, the flurry of making lists for Santa, I just want to sit back and say, so what? Where's it getting us, who is it helping, and who are we harming with all this STUFF. Stuff that will burn away and can disappear in moments. And leave us with....what becomes the essentials. Things like relationships, like character, like intangibles that will never be burned away or stolen. And this season to remember and celebrate Jesus' beginnings...I'm not sure the Jesus I know would be thrilled by what its turned into. Worshipful gratefulness for the gift of salvation, for what He ultimately came to do...by buying?
I find materialism disgusting. Things don't impress me. Let me see your passion, your life, your inner self. Those things will always be there, no matter what. I don't want to live with all this stuff. I don't want to be defined by it, I don't want my money wasted on it. I know we need certain things to live, but all those extras...what if we went without and gave the money to someone else?
I grew up during an extremely hard time in our family. We had many nice, new things, but compared to everyone else around us, we had nothing. I remember Christmas' with a new toy. A present from my parents. And it did a world of good for me. I never regret growing up with less than my friends. It gave me so much to be grateful for. It gave me so much awareness of what is really necessary to happiness. And it wasn't heaps of things.
Oh Jesus! Help us see that Your love is the ultimate important, necessary thing! Help us to put into perspective the things that attract us so, help us to use the gifts you have given us to show your love to others instead of selfishly thinking of ourselves. Forgive us for losing ourselves in things. With all my heart, I pray. Amen.
I used to be just like the next one, and had lists of things I wanted for Christmas, or went shopping and wanted the things I saw. I was never brand loyal or interested in the latest technology or newest versions of things, but there was always something else I needed to be happy or live better.
Perhaps its because I spent the summer in an area of the world where they live with a much lower standard of living. Seeing people live joyously on so little puts things into perspective. Watching someone take crusts and leftovers off people's plates in a restaurant suddenly makes you want to clean your plate at home. Meeting little children who are hungry suddenly makes black Friday shopping seem much less...necessary.
Why do we do this? What does all the stuff even mean? Does it really make you happy to know that you have the latest $600 phone? Is it really a necessity? Does it really make you feel better about yourself to buy loads of new, shiny things? Things are meaningless. Things will go out of style, get broken or look less shiny. Things have a way of fading away, and then you can't remember what you even owned or had.
It all just makes me so disappointed to see people spending so much money and time on what lasts for moments or is quickly forgotten. We have things so backwards, and no one seems to realize, but rush on to the next item, or stand in line at the next sale to get the item that will make them happier or look better. And no one knows why, it seems. The money we spend on things for ourselves or our children...a fraction of that is someone else's daily living. And what are we spending it on?
The materialism is a problem when it grows so out of proportion with everything else, that it overshadows what is really important. How do you put into perspective what is necessary vs. what is superfluous?
I keep thinking of the line, "you can't take it with you." and I wonder, what happens to all the time spent on these things, when we die? What about all the money we've wasted? How is that accounted for when we're dead? What good did we do Steve Jobs by buying the newest version of the same product over and over again? What good did we do ourselves? And in the end, what did it all matter, really.
And then I think of the millions of people who just barely survive, much less worry about whether they have the things we deem necessary in our culture. Cable tv and internet on our cellphones. Some don't even have heated houses, or sufficient clothing. Not to mention decent food or water.
I'm generally feeling disgusted by it all, and especially this Christmas season. In the rush of buying, the flurry of making lists for Santa, I just want to sit back and say, so what? Where's it getting us, who is it helping, and who are we harming with all this STUFF. Stuff that will burn away and can disappear in moments. And leave us with....what becomes the essentials. Things like relationships, like character, like intangibles that will never be burned away or stolen. And this season to remember and celebrate Jesus' beginnings...I'm not sure the Jesus I know would be thrilled by what its turned into. Worshipful gratefulness for the gift of salvation, for what He ultimately came to do...by buying?
I find materialism disgusting. Things don't impress me. Let me see your passion, your life, your inner self. Those things will always be there, no matter what. I don't want to live with all this stuff. I don't want to be defined by it, I don't want my money wasted on it. I know we need certain things to live, but all those extras...what if we went without and gave the money to someone else?
I grew up during an extremely hard time in our family. We had many nice, new things, but compared to everyone else around us, we had nothing. I remember Christmas' with a new toy. A present from my parents. And it did a world of good for me. I never regret growing up with less than my friends. It gave me so much to be grateful for. It gave me so much awareness of what is really necessary to happiness. And it wasn't heaps of things.
Oh Jesus! Help us see that Your love is the ultimate important, necessary thing! Help us to put into perspective the things that attract us so, help us to use the gifts you have given us to show your love to others instead of selfishly thinking of ourselves. Forgive us for losing ourselves in things. With all my heart, I pray. Amen.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Reflecting
I'm feeling kind of quiet and reflective. I've had a lot going on the past few weeks, and its all coming to a point soon. I've been mulling over some things and looking back and rethinking. Its draining and exhilarating at the same time. One of those moments when the next breath might change your course, never to return and make a new decision.
In the midst I keep trudging on with every day tasks and thoughts, and take out these others during repose or moments of respite.
I've been thinking of re-reading my blog and journals. Every year, near the start of the new year I like to look behind at where I've come from in order to gain some perspective of where I might be going. The path behind is often indicative of things that are patterns or directions that might be missed if we never reviewed them. Its time for this review, time to take stock and see where I am and who I am.
Somehow, the girl who started out this year feels so different than the one ending it. I'm almost afraid to look at who she was, and cringe a little at what I might see. I hope its a better version of Katie at the end of the year than at the beginning. I hope its a deeper and more mature Katie, one showing growth and change in a positive way.
There have been so many adventures, so many dark places, and yet a lot of light, too. I feel like I climbed a mountain, took in the view, and now...what's next? Coming off the mountain top experience can be sort of like getting the breath knocked out of you. But it is a view everyone should experience and remember vividly. Its a vision, really, of where we should be aiming to live. A big picture viewpoint.
So as this year winds down, I begin to reflect and revisit places in the path, ebenezers and markers, to see where I've been, and catch a glimpse of where I'm going.
Most of all I want to follow Jesus. Where ever that might lead.
In the midst I keep trudging on with every day tasks and thoughts, and take out these others during repose or moments of respite.
I've been thinking of re-reading my blog and journals. Every year, near the start of the new year I like to look behind at where I've come from in order to gain some perspective of where I might be going. The path behind is often indicative of things that are patterns or directions that might be missed if we never reviewed them. Its time for this review, time to take stock and see where I am and who I am.
Somehow, the girl who started out this year feels so different than the one ending it. I'm almost afraid to look at who she was, and cringe a little at what I might see. I hope its a better version of Katie at the end of the year than at the beginning. I hope its a deeper and more mature Katie, one showing growth and change in a positive way.
There have been so many adventures, so many dark places, and yet a lot of light, too. I feel like I climbed a mountain, took in the view, and now...what's next? Coming off the mountain top experience can be sort of like getting the breath knocked out of you. But it is a view everyone should experience and remember vividly. Its a vision, really, of where we should be aiming to live. A big picture viewpoint.
So as this year winds down, I begin to reflect and revisit places in the path, ebenezers and markers, to see where I've been, and catch a glimpse of where I'm going.
Most of all I want to follow Jesus. Where ever that might lead.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
A Journey of Faith
Faith. Like a mustard seed, so tiny it is lost in the palm of your hand. And yet this is the chosen symbol from Jesus' mountain sermon. The people gathered there looked around them on that rocky hill and understood, for all around them were the mustard plants. It was imagery that was fresh, that used pieces of their reality. It was imagery that symbolized that a small insignificant seed could produce a tree, a miracle to be reckoned with. A symbol of the kingdom of God.
A journey of faith can be just as doubtful as looking at that mustard seed. It can be impossible at times to look at that seed and really believe it will produce anything worthwhile. That anything will come of it.
I am in that doubting moment. I doubt that the seed of the calling God has spoken in me will really come to anything. I doubt that water will come and sun will come and nutrients will come to bring that seed to fruition. I doubt that money will come to pay for what it requires to follow Jesus. I doubt that ministry will open up, that strength to follow through will be found. I doubt that these God-given dreams which I cannot escape will become reality to be reckoned with.
But I was reminded today of the journey so far. Remembering where I've been, where I came from, the innocent and unsuspecting beginnings. The beginnings that gave no hint of what was going to happen next.
My whole life has been woven and spun with graces and mercies. With strengths and unasked for provisions to accomplish what I did not suspect I would even ever do or become. Throughout, it has been intertwined with the golden sparkles of God's love and gifts.
And yet I sit here doubting.
If I have been called to something, if a ministry or mission has been given to me, if I am made for greater things, how could I think that I was then expected to achieve it on my own? Foolish thought! But a very real and even disquieting one.
Faith, looking into the spiritual dimension to see what God says about a matter, and then doing it.
Faith, believing that somehow, someway, God will move and the impossible will be possible.
Faith, hanging on and refusing to give up, refusing to accept the second rate offering.
Faith is stepping out, even with no idea of where that step will take us. Faith is not being discouraged when the rain feels late, when the knots are big, when the way is long.
Faith is a journey, I am learning. A journey towards living in peace and quietness, fearlessly trusting that God, who sends you, will also arrange for the message to be delivered. That God, who is weaving the story, who is controlling the threads, knows the pattern. That God knows when the rain and when the sun is needed.
Hebrews 11:1-3 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God's command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
How?
How do I sort out the pieces of my heart, and fit them all together?
How do the drops of rain fall in pattern?
How do the leaves know when to change color?
How do I count the stars at night?
How do I explain the shine of the moon's face?
How do I account for the dreams I have so deep in my heart? How do I find the courage to keep on toward them, and not lose sight of the end in the confusion of the way?
How do I name the thoughts and feelings? How do I write what I desire in so many words, when what I want is so big and beautiful?
How do I explain the innermost workings of my heart to others?
How do I grasp hold of a flickering light and make it shine brighter?
How do I speak of things never uttered, only felt?
How do I believe that nothing is impossible?
How do I remember who I am a midst the babble and confusion?
How do I find who I am a midst the babble and confusion?
How do I take one step at a time?
How do I trust?
Psalm 88:12-13
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness, or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
But I cry to you for help, Lord; in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Psalm 121:1-3
I lift up my eyes to the mountains- where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip-he who watches over you will not slumber.
How do the drops of rain fall in pattern?
How do the leaves know when to change color?
How do I count the stars at night?
How do I explain the shine of the moon's face?
How do I account for the dreams I have so deep in my heart? How do I find the courage to keep on toward them, and not lose sight of the end in the confusion of the way?
How do I name the thoughts and feelings? How do I write what I desire in so many words, when what I want is so big and beautiful?
How do I explain the innermost workings of my heart to others?
How do I grasp hold of a flickering light and make it shine brighter?
How do I speak of things never uttered, only felt?
How do I believe that nothing is impossible?
How do I remember who I am a midst the babble and confusion?
How do I find who I am a midst the babble and confusion?
How do I take one step at a time?
How do I trust?
Psalm 88:12-13
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness, or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
But I cry to you for help, Lord; in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Psalm 121:1-3
I lift up my eyes to the mountains- where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip-he who watches over you will not slumber.
Monday, September 10, 2012
A Lesson From My Best Friend
This is a nice memory from Bolivia. Cisia was one of my best friends there, and so sweet. She and I had a special relationship and I miss her very much. My hermanita and I could get into a lot of trouble together, believe me!
Cisia taught me to ride motorbikes the Bolivian way, whistling for a taxi, and hopping aboard side saddle, with my groceries in my lap.
One thing that Cisia taught me, was that mission is beyond evangelism and holding Bible schools and building buildings. She helped me see that it is discipleship, and that a relationship is much more important. No one can measure the relationship between Cisia and I, and what may come of it in the future. But the time spent with her was invaluable, and she taught me a lot, without even realizing she was doing so.
My first lesson in discipleship.
Something I am pondering, for sure.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Ahhh, Summertime!
Now doesn't this look cool and nice for a hot summer day? Mmmm....I think yes! Summer is my favorite time of year! I love the heat, the sun, the fresh vegetables, and things like this frosty goodness.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Unplugged
The value of silence is often overlooked these days. It's such a busy world. Time for silence and quiet in which to just be and think becomes rarer and rarer. The world keeps turning, and the rush never ends.
I don't mean just the absence of sound around me when I speak of silence. I mean a place of minimized distraction, where thought can occur and echo around in heart and mind. Where there is not another place to be, another person to reply to, another task to accomplish. The silence of a world at a slower pace.
I have been craving the silence of a world at a slower pace. My life has been jam packed. I've loved every minute of it, but it's not a state of being I wish to remain in forever.
I want to unplug.
So this summer that's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to text, facebook, or tweet. I'm going to take time to sit and enjoy the silence.
Perhaps the silence will allow me to write, to read, to focus on the people in the same room with me, instead of the ones on the screen.
I'm sure it'll be a bit of a culture shock to go from constant on-the-go-electronic-connection to a life of no replies, re-tweets, or text messages. But I'm curious about how it's going to turn out. Will I miss it? Will I find something better? Will being unplugged make it too hard to be in relationship with others?
It's an experiment I am anxious to try.
I hope the silence will lead me toward Christ, toward hearing the whisper of His voice in my heart. I hope it leads me toward a more thoughtful existence, toward deeper relationships instead of shallow ones that never move beyond a "like" now and then. I hope the silence will grow new thoughts and new ideas and greater creativity.
So if I'm a little quieter in the coming weeks, know that I'm just being silent, soaking in the world around me, and taking time to notice and think about things I can see and hear and touch, rather than a screen of virtual life. I want the real deal, and I'm taking a bold step to see if it still exists.
Unplugged.
I don't mean just the absence of sound around me when I speak of silence. I mean a place of minimized distraction, where thought can occur and echo around in heart and mind. Where there is not another place to be, another person to reply to, another task to accomplish. The silence of a world at a slower pace.
I have been craving the silence of a world at a slower pace. My life has been jam packed. I've loved every minute of it, but it's not a state of being I wish to remain in forever.
I want to unplug.
So this summer that's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to text, facebook, or tweet. I'm going to take time to sit and enjoy the silence.
Perhaps the silence will allow me to write, to read, to focus on the people in the same room with me, instead of the ones on the screen.
I'm sure it'll be a bit of a culture shock to go from constant on-the-go-electronic-connection to a life of no replies, re-tweets, or text messages. But I'm curious about how it's going to turn out. Will I miss it? Will I find something better? Will being unplugged make it too hard to be in relationship with others?
It's an experiment I am anxious to try.
I hope the silence will lead me toward Christ, toward hearing the whisper of His voice in my heart. I hope it leads me toward a more thoughtful existence, toward deeper relationships instead of shallow ones that never move beyond a "like" now and then. I hope the silence will grow new thoughts and new ideas and greater creativity.
So if I'm a little quieter in the coming weeks, know that I'm just being silent, soaking in the world around me, and taking time to notice and think about things I can see and hear and touch, rather than a screen of virtual life. I want the real deal, and I'm taking a bold step to see if it still exists.
Unplugged.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
The Teacher Was Homeschooled (And Other Ironies Of My Life)
Irony 1. The teacher was homeschooled. And has no idea what a 'classroom' is supposed to look like.
Not only do I not know what it's 'supposed' to look like, but I also have no idea how it works. You know what it feels like so far? Like juggling 5 siblings and all their activities. Except, these siblings are all the same age. Maybe being the oldest of 9 will come in handy, after all. (Don't make me use my teacher voice!)
Irony 2. The teacher knocks over the kid in the playground on the first day. Great.
Parent: "Do you like your new teacher?"
Kid: "She knocked me down on the playground!"
Parent: "What kind of teacher is this?! "
(It was actually an isolated incident which was caused by a child walking behind a teacher who was swinging. The teacher was unable to stop the child or the momentum in time. I was that unfortunate teacher. There were no serious injuries in the making of this irony. Maybe I should give up swinging.)
Irony 3. The new PE teacher has never been to a PE class in her life.
She can't shoot baskets, she can't do push ups, and she doesn't remember the rules to 'freeze tag'. But somehow, these things will probably not hinder her as she guides 40 kids through PE classes. Oh no. Not at all.
~
Somehow, I think I'm going to absolutely love this job. After the first day, I still have things to do with them for the remainder of the week, and lots of ideas for our studies and activities. I'm surprised there's not the irony of using up a weeks worth of classes in one day. But grateful for that not happening. Ask me tomorrow if it really didn't happen. Ha!
Today I got more of a feel of how long it takes to do things with 5 year olds. (Basically, forever.) And I got more of a feel of where they are in their abilities. (Basically, my level.)
Looking forward to more teacher adventures tomorrow! But I think I will attempt to avoid knocking over kids on the playground.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Healing
A broken heart. I know how it feels. I know the intense pain so deep and strong. At times barely able to breathe. At times blinded, vision blurred with the force of the pain. Reeling from a roller-coaster of emotions and memories. A broken heart, a thousand pieces, and shards within causing internal bleeding.
Oh yes. A broken heart, with darkness all around. And thinking there is no hope- thinking the pain would be present forever.
And then slowly, like a cool soothing balm, God's Spirit touches that brokenness. Touches and heals, putting the pieces back together, making it whole again. God's finger, writing joy back into our hearts and lives.
It reminds me of the broken heart of Christ, when rejected at crucifixion. His was a heart broken from rejection from His Father. His was a heart broken because of the mistakes and evil things thought and acted by others. His broken heart made possible the healing of our hearts. His heart, resurrected, allows our hopes to be resurrected as well.
A broken heart can seem so impossible to put together from the many bits and pieces. But the Creator of the universe can create anew our souls. He creates a new heart from the pain, a new soul. And where the cracks were is made stronger and more unified than ever possible before. And how do we get this healing?
It's simple. We ask.
We ask and we receive.
I know of healing. I know at times it creeps along slowly. One atom at a time, one vessel at a time until a whole organ, a whole soul is revealed. I know that healing has to be asked for, and worked toward, sometimes. We ask for it, and it is simple. We allow Christ to heal us. I know that it is real.
Healing will come.
Broken hearts remade.
Broken lives restored.
Broken worlds made new.
Why? Because God heals. And that is sure. Something to hang on to during everything.
It's true. I know. Because it is happening to me.
~
Psalm 30:1-12
I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up, and did not let my foes rejoice over me.
O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me.
O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.
Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name.
For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.
As for me, I said in my prosperity, "I shall never be moved."
By your favor, O Lord, you had established me as a strong mountain; you hid your face; I was dismayed.
To you, O Lord, I cried, and to the Lord I made supplication:
"What profit is there in my death, if I go down to the Pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness?
Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me! O Lord, be my helper!"
You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.
2 Kings 5:1-14
The story of Naaman, asking for healing.
1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Running to win the race.
Mark 1:40-45
The leper is healed.
Oh yes. A broken heart, with darkness all around. And thinking there is no hope- thinking the pain would be present forever.
And then slowly, like a cool soothing balm, God's Spirit touches that brokenness. Touches and heals, putting the pieces back together, making it whole again. God's finger, writing joy back into our hearts and lives.
It reminds me of the broken heart of Christ, when rejected at crucifixion. His was a heart broken from rejection from His Father. His was a heart broken because of the mistakes and evil things thought and acted by others. His broken heart made possible the healing of our hearts. His heart, resurrected, allows our hopes to be resurrected as well.
A broken heart can seem so impossible to put together from the many bits and pieces. But the Creator of the universe can create anew our souls. He creates a new heart from the pain, a new soul. And where the cracks were is made stronger and more unified than ever possible before. And how do we get this healing?
It's simple. We ask.
We ask and we receive.
I know of healing. I know at times it creeps along slowly. One atom at a time, one vessel at a time until a whole organ, a whole soul is revealed. I know that healing has to be asked for, and worked toward, sometimes. We ask for it, and it is simple. We allow Christ to heal us. I know that it is real.
Healing will come.
Broken hearts remade.
Broken lives restored.
Broken worlds made new.
Why? Because God heals. And that is sure. Something to hang on to during everything.
It's true. I know. Because it is happening to me.
~
Psalm 30:1-12
I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up, and did not let my foes rejoice over me.
O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me.
O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.
Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name.
For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.
As for me, I said in my prosperity, "I shall never be moved."
By your favor, O Lord, you had established me as a strong mountain; you hid your face; I was dismayed.
To you, O Lord, I cried, and to the Lord I made supplication:
"What profit is there in my death, if I go down to the Pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness?
Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me! O Lord, be my helper!"
You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.
2 Kings 5:1-14
The story of Naaman, asking for healing.
1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Running to win the race.
Mark 1:40-45
The leper is healed.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Ripple Effects
I ran across this video on Facebook this evening and just had to share. It's a great picture of how our Christian life really effects our community, and not just the people we know or meet every day. A fruitful Christian life is like a stone tossed into a pond...the effects ripple out far beyond the stone itself. What about you? Are you creating a ripple effect with your life?
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Cries
Yesterday I was having a conversation with someone who was asking for prayer for a friend. This man and his wife had been praying and praying for a baby. They had fertility treatments and were expecting quadruplets. The friend called to say that the woman had miscarried one, and now they were praying that the others would make it to the end of the pregnancy. I expressed sympathy for the miscarriage and asked if the remaining babies were okay. The friend said, "Oh yes! They had a 'selective miscarriage'." The friend then continued on with the conversation, describing how they were really praying the others would be carried to term.
To my deep sorrow, it wasn't until last night when I settled down to sleep that the full import of that conversation hit me.
This family had prayed for children. God blessed them by giving them four lives in her womb. And then they selectively miscarried one. They selectively killed one! They had an abortion! 'Selective miscarriage' is less harsh on the ear than abortion or elimination or removal of one of the lives. One of the babies was sacrificed for the others.
How does anyone even begin to think about this? How do you choose which baby to kill? How could you look at an ultrasound of four babies, four people, four lives and decide which one should not be allowed to live? Why would you even consider it? I suppose you choose the smallest or weakest one. And that is agreeing with survival of the fittest, which is evolution! I am a small girl, and not particularly strong. I'm glad I wasn't eliminated for that reason!
It was the sheer hypocrisy that got me. If someone prays, asking God for the blessing of children, they must recognize that God is the giver of life, the one that forms the human in the womb. And then to selectively kill that human life, and ask for prayer for the others to be well and strong? How does that even translate?
I was so upset it took a while to settle back down and fall asleep. My heart was broken for that little innocent baby, the one that was selectively not allowed to live. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I prayed for the baby's siblings, still forming in the womb of their mother.
If she didn't want that baby, I do! Oh how can I even express my feelings? They were practicing birth control, and controlling which ones get birthed. A common practice, usually carried on before knowing whether a child is actually present. This is why I feel so strongly about birth control. If you follow the natural chain of events, it boils down to becoming so thoughtless that you are okay with asking for prayer for a procedure that goes against Christianity. A procedure that ends life, not one that gives life.
The cries of that baby were silenced.
And my cries grew louder.
I pray for that family, as they expect triplets, as they begin to get ready for three new lives to care for and guide. I pray for them as I grieve the loss of their child.
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart;" Jeremiah 1:5
To my deep sorrow, it wasn't until last night when I settled down to sleep that the full import of that conversation hit me.
This family had prayed for children. God blessed them by giving them four lives in her womb. And then they selectively miscarried one. They selectively killed one! They had an abortion! 'Selective miscarriage' is less harsh on the ear than abortion or elimination or removal of one of the lives. One of the babies was sacrificed for the others.
How does anyone even begin to think about this? How do you choose which baby to kill? How could you look at an ultrasound of four babies, four people, four lives and decide which one should not be allowed to live? Why would you even consider it? I suppose you choose the smallest or weakest one. And that is agreeing with survival of the fittest, which is evolution! I am a small girl, and not particularly strong. I'm glad I wasn't eliminated for that reason!
It was the sheer hypocrisy that got me. If someone prays, asking God for the blessing of children, they must recognize that God is the giver of life, the one that forms the human in the womb. And then to selectively kill that human life, and ask for prayer for the others to be well and strong? How does that even translate?
I was so upset it took a while to settle back down and fall asleep. My heart was broken for that little innocent baby, the one that was selectively not allowed to live. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I prayed for the baby's siblings, still forming in the womb of their mother.
If she didn't want that baby, I do! Oh how can I even express my feelings? They were practicing birth control, and controlling which ones get birthed. A common practice, usually carried on before knowing whether a child is actually present. This is why I feel so strongly about birth control. If you follow the natural chain of events, it boils down to becoming so thoughtless that you are okay with asking for prayer for a procedure that goes against Christianity. A procedure that ends life, not one that gives life.
The cries of that baby were silenced.
And my cries grew louder.
I pray for that family, as they expect triplets, as they begin to get ready for three new lives to care for and guide. I pray for them as I grieve the loss of their child.
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart;" Jeremiah 1:5
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Musings
Its almost time for that yearly slow down and take inventory muse. I generally do it every year around New Years, a sort of step back and see what happened the last year, and kind of gauge where I might be headed in the new year. I like to take some time to think about what I might need to work on or lesson to learn.
I keep a prayer journal. It helps me to stay focused when I pray, and because writing helps me think and organize my thoughts, it helps me to notice what sorts of prayers I'm busy with. And it shows me how selfish I am. Too much, I tend toward selfish prayers.
So every year I like to take a walk through my journal and mark the dates prayers were answered, and really see in black and white how the Lord is working in my life. It's all there, plain as day, in the curly cues of black handwriting against creamy white paper. Seeing it in writing, seeing it unfold beneath my hand really brings it to life, and really shows me how God is leading my aventura de la vida.
Just now, I was thinking about the path of life. It's so fascinating to me to picture it that way. I began this blog with that theme, and lately have been thinking of changing my blog but the adventure of life and the path and journey still seem so relevant to me that I'm keeping it. And I keep bumping into verses in the Bible about the way or path of following God. This evening I was reading Psalm 139.
Psalm 139
O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.
You hem me in-behind and before; you laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake, I am still with you.
If only you would slay the wicked, O God! Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!
They speak of you with evil intent; your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord, and abhor those who rise up against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them my enemies.
Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.
A beautiful psalm which spoke to my heart. May the offensive ways in me be shown to light, that I might be led in the way everlasting.
I keep a prayer journal. It helps me to stay focused when I pray, and because writing helps me think and organize my thoughts, it helps me to notice what sorts of prayers I'm busy with. And it shows me how selfish I am. Too much, I tend toward selfish prayers.
So every year I like to take a walk through my journal and mark the dates prayers were answered, and really see in black and white how the Lord is working in my life. It's all there, plain as day, in the curly cues of black handwriting against creamy white paper. Seeing it in writing, seeing it unfold beneath my hand really brings it to life, and really shows me how God is leading my aventura de la vida.
Just now, I was thinking about the path of life. It's so fascinating to me to picture it that way. I began this blog with that theme, and lately have been thinking of changing my blog but the adventure of life and the path and journey still seem so relevant to me that I'm keeping it. And I keep bumping into verses in the Bible about the way or path of following God. This evening I was reading Psalm 139.
Psalm 139
O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.
You hem me in-behind and before; you laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake, I am still with you.
If only you would slay the wicked, O God! Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!
They speak of you with evil intent; your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord, and abhor those who rise up against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them my enemies.
Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.
A beautiful psalm which spoke to my heart. May the offensive ways in me be shown to light, that I might be led in the way everlasting.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Flying
In the middle of November, my sister and I flew to St. Louis to attend a conference for those who are discerning whether their calling includes ordination within the United Methodist Church. It was an excellent conference, and came at a time when I was particularly struggling and wrestling with what my calling might be. That mysterious thing that nags and whispers and for which you have to find answers.
I've since been mulling over things that were said, or thoughts that came to me there.
But one of the highlights of the trip for me was the flying.
I love to fly.
I like takeoff, when the wheels are keeping me to earth and then suddenly, there's the lift and the earth falls away beneath me and I rise and rise and rise.
I like ascending. I like to look around me and watch the clouds. Flat on the bottom, puffy on top, with sun glittering and making it all seem like a marshmallow ocean.
I like everything suddenly coming into perspective, the little houses and neighborhoods suddenly making sense, and the roads and towns all become a real map spread below. No names or lines to distinguish things, just the big picture beneath me.
All the things that are usually big, suddenly made small, because I can see everything.
I like that. Big things made small because I can see everything.
One day, I will see everything that happens in the aventura de la vida and all the big things will be small. One day, things will make sense. I will be flying.
For now, I am still on the ground, wheels turning, keeping me here. But there is that hope that one day, one day I will see it all beneath me. And clouds, spread out around me like a marshmallow ocean, the Son glittering over it all.
I've since been mulling over things that were said, or thoughts that came to me there.
But one of the highlights of the trip for me was the flying.
I love to fly.
I like takeoff, when the wheels are keeping me to earth and then suddenly, there's the lift and the earth falls away beneath me and I rise and rise and rise.
I like ascending. I like to look around me and watch the clouds. Flat on the bottom, puffy on top, with sun glittering and making it all seem like a marshmallow ocean.
I like everything suddenly coming into perspective, the little houses and neighborhoods suddenly making sense, and the roads and towns all become a real map spread below. No names or lines to distinguish things, just the big picture beneath me.
All the things that are usually big, suddenly made small, because I can see everything.
I like that. Big things made small because I can see everything.
One day, I will see everything that happens in the aventura de la vida and all the big things will be small. One day, things will make sense. I will be flying.
For now, I am still on the ground, wheels turning, keeping me here. But there is that hope that one day, one day I will see it all beneath me. And clouds, spread out around me like a marshmallow ocean, the Son glittering over it all.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Magnificat
And Mary said,
My soul doth magnify the Lord,
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior,
For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is his name.
And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation.
He hath shewed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree.
He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.
He hath helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy;
As he spake to our fathers, to Abraham, and to his seed forever.
My soul doth magnify the Lord.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Looking At The Map
The adventure of life. Ever moving, ever changing the journey is continuing, and I'm still looking at the map.
The terrain of life changes so quickly. First it's smooth, then bumpy. Occasionally a hill or a mountain to climb. Sometimes a storm to trudge through, sometimes a cool breeze that makes the journey pleasant.
I was thinking today about the journey of life. And that map. I've got to figure out how to read this map, and it'd be helpful to know how to use the compass.
I was anticipating a decision I would make today. While small, it will impact the next 2-3 years and perhaps longer. I wasn't terribly nervous about this decision, but it was beginning to make me a little anxious. And then I got up to it, and it was easy.
The swells got smaller and were easy to climb.
Is that how life is?
Is it that you anticipate having to decide and anticipate trying to look for the correct path to take, when really it happens naturally? And the answer is before us?
I believe that God speaks to us, and helps us to know which choice to choose. I believe that God can take our choices and use them for the best. I believe that God allows us to choose the path.
So why do I stress over it? Especially since I know God is with me, and I know I hear His voice. If I just slow down and stop worrying, it usually all works out with little trouble.
It really does.
I'm looking at the map of this journey I'm taking. I'm checking for road signs to follow. I want to get to the goal, I want to reach the end of the journey and I want to have taken the roads and paths that were those God would be most pleased with.
I feel I'm at a crossroads of sorts. The road stretches in a few different directions I could take.
And I am willing to go down each of them, if that be where the map would point.
I'm looking at the map.
And I'm listening to where the directions say to go.
Here I am Lord,
send me.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Here I Am, Lord
I the Lord of sea and sky
I have heard my people cry
All who dwell in dark and sin
My hand will save.
I who made the stars and night
I will make the darkness bright
Who will bear my light to them
Whom shall I send?
Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord
If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart.
I the Lord of snow and rain
I have borne my people's pain
I have wept for love of them
They turn away.
I will break their hearts of stone
Fill their hearts with love alone
I will speak my word to them
Whom shall I send?
Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord
If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart.
I will hold your people in my heart.
Such a beautiful hymn. And my prayer for today.
Here I am. Is it I? Send me.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
A Battle To Fight
I'm picturing the warrior, battle stained and tired but fiercely facing down the enemy. His hair is pushed back from his eyes. His hands grip the sword and are ready for more battle.
The sun glints off the bright shine of the armor of the enemy arrayed in front of him. They seem shiny, rested. Bright flags fly over their ranks. Shouts fill the air.
To the warrior, eyes narrowed and every muscle in his body strained and ready it might even be tempting to look back behind him to his own ranks and notice the holes in the banners, the blood stains on the armor, and the tired, lean look in every man's eye on his side. The grim silence is almost loud. There is a battle to fight.
In the heat of the battle, what must it be like to realize that these are real people you're fighting? That they are wounded, bloody and dying because of the battle. That you're the one inflicting these wounds? At that point, there must be something bigger, something larger than life that makes the battle worth while. Otherwise, why are you fighting?
Feelings would get in my way. I'd feel sorry for the others, I'd try to reach out to them and help them. Even if they were the attackers, dangerous to the happiness of those I love. I'd begin to reason with myself that as they are wounded and dying I must be wrong and should stop fighting, stop inflicting wounds that were not meant to be personal. But there is something bigger, something larger than life that makes the battle worth while.
It depends on the battle. It depends on the fight.
But feelings cannot be thought of in the heat of battle. You must fight with principles.
It's the principle of the thing that makes it right to keep fighting.
The principle of good versus evil.
The principle of light versus darkness.
The principles were thought through and believed in long before the battle with emotion and feeling began. Long before the wounds were inflicted, the principles were standing.
And in the heat of battle, the principles are still standing. They are still true. They do not change because it gets hard, because it gets messy. The principles remain.
If the principles were good and right and solid before, then they are good and right and solid still.
The warrior, eyes narrowed, hands ready for battle gazes at the enemy. The principles he is fighting for are still there, strongly calling, strongly standing. And he is ready to fight with might and main to show he truly lives what he believes. He must win for the sake of those he loves. He must win for the sake of principle. The principle which will stand solid long after the heat of battle. Long after the waves of emotion and feeling. He is called to a battle. There is a battle to fight.
And he must win.
.
The sun glints off the bright shine of the armor of the enemy arrayed in front of him. They seem shiny, rested. Bright flags fly over their ranks. Shouts fill the air.
To the warrior, eyes narrowed and every muscle in his body strained and ready it might even be tempting to look back behind him to his own ranks and notice the holes in the banners, the blood stains on the armor, and the tired, lean look in every man's eye on his side. The grim silence is almost loud. There is a battle to fight.
In the heat of the battle, what must it be like to realize that these are real people you're fighting? That they are wounded, bloody and dying because of the battle. That you're the one inflicting these wounds? At that point, there must be something bigger, something larger than life that makes the battle worth while. Otherwise, why are you fighting?
Feelings would get in my way. I'd feel sorry for the others, I'd try to reach out to them and help them. Even if they were the attackers, dangerous to the happiness of those I love. I'd begin to reason with myself that as they are wounded and dying I must be wrong and should stop fighting, stop inflicting wounds that were not meant to be personal. But there is something bigger, something larger than life that makes the battle worth while.
It depends on the battle. It depends on the fight.
But feelings cannot be thought of in the heat of battle. You must fight with principles.
It's the principle of the thing that makes it right to keep fighting.
The principle of good versus evil.
The principle of light versus darkness.
The principles were thought through and believed in long before the battle with emotion and feeling began. Long before the wounds were inflicted, the principles were standing.
And in the heat of battle, the principles are still standing. They are still true. They do not change because it gets hard, because it gets messy. The principles remain.
If the principles were good and right and solid before, then they are good and right and solid still.
The warrior, eyes narrowed, hands ready for battle gazes at the enemy. The principles he is fighting for are still there, strongly calling, strongly standing. And he is ready to fight with might and main to show he truly lives what he believes. He must win for the sake of those he loves. He must win for the sake of principle. The principle which will stand solid long after the heat of battle. Long after the waves of emotion and feeling. He is called to a battle. There is a battle to fight.
And he must win.
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