Amy...I mean...Mad Frenchie's Anthology of Spiritual Drool
Beauty Tips with Audrey Hepburn:
* For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
* For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
* For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
* For beautiful hair, let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.
* For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.
* People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.
* Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms.
*As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands; one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others.
I saw a couple of very interesting ads on the back of trucks this morning whilst driving to Roanoke:
Choose who you will serve today. Jesus or Satan (the most obvious...hahahah).
WARRIOR! Join the team.
Receiving today's goods for tomorrow's needs. (May have botched that a little).
My song is coming along. For the last line of the verses I changed the chords to: C, D (tarry but a second), Em, G...sounds cool. I'm solidifying the chorus.
It was a beautiful night last night. The clouds were moving fast over the stars but they made the stars appear to be the ones moving. I saw two skunks mating; one was albino. I thought I smelled salt water but I guess it could have been them. Fall is coming; the sky was crazy this morning...gray and deep blue with sun stretching through the cumulus cantopy. "Whenever you break through..."
LAST DAY OF AUGUST.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
A Collection of Today's Meanderings
These fragmented thoughts probably won't connect but I just felt like getting them down. We read some Frost in class; one specific poem stuck with me and I'm not so sure it is a good thing. The description is beautiful and the emotion poignant...but it lead to another line from a different Frost? poem that a guy in a previous class put to music. I still can't shake the line: "Those woods are lovely, dark, and deep but I have promises to keep." The poem today described a man walking by a snowy field in which night is approaching. He says that the lonliness of the field cannot pervade his own because he is already at the depths of it. What he fears?--that this state will overtake him and he won't be able to express any emotion ever again...won't ever find the right words. I almost started crying in class. Then, on the way back from Roanoke I had this brief picture of Jesus on His face in Gethsemane when he was left alone, where he cried and sweat blood. I did cry then because he was so alone and this is where his suffering began.
I've got the chorus down, I think, for that "come on down" song.
Last night before bed I prayed Jesus speak to me. This is what I remembered the following morning: I was walking through a clothing store with some interns. Sonya, from Macedonia, was the main focus. She kept trying to pray for some guy. She said, "I just need to keep doing here what I did back home." The guy definately had something very wrong with him. But that's all I can recall for that part. The second fragmented dream concerned me and dad. We were watching a twelve hour version of the chronicles of narnia. On the TV I saw the face of a girl I recognized. There was some sort of war going on. Then two eagles swooped down; one was a bald eagle. He held the screen's attention. But there were also evil eagles, though I only heard mention of them. The third part consisted of me riding in car along a stormy coastline. There were huge cliffs out in the ocean, green like Ireland's but taller than anything I'd ever seen. Mist and rain made it difficult to see them clearly. Then I was out of the car and walking toward some caves. The cliffs loomed above but this time I saw these equally tall rusty edifices attached to the cliffs. They sort of looked like towers. One fell off from the cliff and I was afraid a tidal wave would slam me into the rocks. A rush of water did come but it only slightly carried me toward the rocks. Once inside the cave there was a slide that people were going down. I heard someone say we were at Schliterbahn. I saw one girl from highschool. But instead of going down the slide I followed some guy into a nearby staircase. After going down several levels I decided to go back up and look for the slide. The last part is the shortest. I was squatting in a bathtub naked, with someone to the right and left of me. But I had a hat on. And Rick was going to speak on something. Strange, I know. What did Jesus speak to me?---haven't a clue...not yet. ANY insight would be appreciated.
Well, that's it for now kids.
These fragmented thoughts probably won't connect but I just felt like getting them down. We read some Frost in class; one specific poem stuck with me and I'm not so sure it is a good thing. The description is beautiful and the emotion poignant...but it lead to another line from a different Frost? poem that a guy in a previous class put to music. I still can't shake the line: "Those woods are lovely, dark, and deep but I have promises to keep." The poem today described a man walking by a snowy field in which night is approaching. He says that the lonliness of the field cannot pervade his own because he is already at the depths of it. What he fears?--that this state will overtake him and he won't be able to express any emotion ever again...won't ever find the right words. I almost started crying in class. Then, on the way back from Roanoke I had this brief picture of Jesus on His face in Gethsemane when he was left alone, where he cried and sweat blood. I did cry then because he was so alone and this is where his suffering began.
I've got the chorus down, I think, for that "come on down" song.
Last night before bed I prayed Jesus speak to me. This is what I remembered the following morning: I was walking through a clothing store with some interns. Sonya, from Macedonia, was the main focus. She kept trying to pray for some guy. She said, "I just need to keep doing here what I did back home." The guy definately had something very wrong with him. But that's all I can recall for that part. The second fragmented dream concerned me and dad. We were watching a twelve hour version of the chronicles of narnia. On the TV I saw the face of a girl I recognized. There was some sort of war going on. Then two eagles swooped down; one was a bald eagle. He held the screen's attention. But there were also evil eagles, though I only heard mention of them. The third part consisted of me riding in car along a stormy coastline. There were huge cliffs out in the ocean, green like Ireland's but taller than anything I'd ever seen. Mist and rain made it difficult to see them clearly. Then I was out of the car and walking toward some caves. The cliffs loomed above but this time I saw these equally tall rusty edifices attached to the cliffs. They sort of looked like towers. One fell off from the cliff and I was afraid a tidal wave would slam me into the rocks. A rush of water did come but it only slightly carried me toward the rocks. Once inside the cave there was a slide that people were going down. I heard someone say we were at Schliterbahn. I saw one girl from highschool. But instead of going down the slide I followed some guy into a nearby staircase. After going down several levels I decided to go back up and look for the slide. The last part is the shortest. I was squatting in a bathtub naked, with someone to the right and left of me. But I had a hat on. And Rick was going to speak on something. Strange, I know. What did Jesus speak to me?---haven't a clue...not yet. ANY insight would be appreciated.
Well, that's it for now kids.
Friday, August 26, 2005
"(Luke) I am your Father" & "Moving Slow, Healing Deep"
Turn back now...
Danger...self destruction in T-seems like forever
...and counting
A couple of years and some months ago I remember talking to Dustin Wauer over hot tea in a very frigid barn. He was crafting my bookshelf with skillful hands; the long oaken panels have holes in them. He asked if I minded and I became so excited because I've always loved the holey, twisted root grottoes in children books or in my own drawings. When I look at the finished product now, standing at the end of my bed, those memories are easy to recall. There is something about fall, crisp air, the smell of leaves, the bright evening sky, wood burning, chilly fingers etc...aahhh...too cliche?---well, in the words of Kit Delucha: "Who does it ever work out for?/Cinda-F'in-rella!" Smile. Anyway, Dustin said to me, "I think there is a reattachment that is going to occur between your heart and the issues of your father." I agreed and admitted to a sort of apathetic response to his return as dad. I forgave, hugged, but somewhere deeper I had felt a little wince, a little question, "Why does it matter?" That severing of daughter and father did not hurt anymore; I was walking with the Lord, been set free, healed. So really, what was the point? And why, if it had been amputated, had I felt that twinge of something wanting to breathe again, to raise up alive and pumping full of life? Why did that sudden and unexpected twitch feel so much like nausea?
There was a man at Morningstar (around the same time as my conversation with D.) sitting in front of me who turned around and said: "I feel like Malachi 4:5 is applicable for you." I opened my journal to write it down. "He will return the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers." I thanked him and although I knew it was a word for me, I could not appreciate its legitamacy. Well, where to go from here?--there's a lot of activity up in those neurons. Hmmmm. I guess this is where I should continue on being real. So, I noticed a pattern in my life (noticed it probably six years ago, but didn't know how to rectify it until four years ago...though deep healing has come only recently), one that is more obvious than most but for a long time it was a major access point of shame for me. I suppose it is actually two patterns from the same source. I looked for a father in other people: my middle school band teacher, and my pastor at NRVCC. I even sought Rick's approval for a time. I looked for intimacy in men: uh...maybe I'll save that for another day. So the desire was always there to know my Father. Misplaced but not buried.
As for my earthly faja, this has been a season of family and I can't tell you how many times I've thought to myself, wow my dad is really an amazing (for lack of a better word) man. You were right D., God has been restoring that severed artery and I am slowly feeling the feeling of a rush of blood. It can be unpleasant, uncomfortable but I know it is truly what my heart desires. If there wasn't a little discomfort I'd think God had etherized the situation and I'd wake up not quite sure what had happened. The Great Physician is no WWII experimenter or Frankenstein, "It is alive!." He is skilled with His hands and careful with His children.
Still, I don't think I ever answered my question. Maybe I don't know the answer fully. This is what I can perceive as of now. God is a family man, and He takes delight in disrupting the schemes of the enemy. He takes delight in the restoration of a child's heart to the father because He is a Father. It gives Him hope that His children will return to Him. He knows the blessings that flow as a result and the curses that can equally come. I lost my train of thought...two men working on Heather's house just mentioned they're both getting divorces. Well, one said he is still suffering his after eight years. Father, give me words of life to speak. Better stop procrastinating on studying strongholds. The day is almost half over. May we all hear the Spirit's cry, "Abba!"
Turn back now...
Danger...self destruction in T-seems like forever
...and counting
A couple of years and some months ago I remember talking to Dustin Wauer over hot tea in a very frigid barn. He was crafting my bookshelf with skillful hands; the long oaken panels have holes in them. He asked if I minded and I became so excited because I've always loved the holey, twisted root grottoes in children books or in my own drawings. When I look at the finished product now, standing at the end of my bed, those memories are easy to recall. There is something about fall, crisp air, the smell of leaves, the bright evening sky, wood burning, chilly fingers etc...aahhh...too cliche?---well, in the words of Kit Delucha: "Who does it ever work out for?/Cinda-F'in-rella!" Smile. Anyway, Dustin said to me, "I think there is a reattachment that is going to occur between your heart and the issues of your father." I agreed and admitted to a sort of apathetic response to his return as dad. I forgave, hugged, but somewhere deeper I had felt a little wince, a little question, "Why does it matter?" That severing of daughter and father did not hurt anymore; I was walking with the Lord, been set free, healed. So really, what was the point? And why, if it had been amputated, had I felt that twinge of something wanting to breathe again, to raise up alive and pumping full of life? Why did that sudden and unexpected twitch feel so much like nausea?
There was a man at Morningstar (around the same time as my conversation with D.) sitting in front of me who turned around and said: "I feel like Malachi 4:5 is applicable for you." I opened my journal to write it down. "He will return the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers." I thanked him and although I knew it was a word for me, I could not appreciate its legitamacy. Well, where to go from here?--there's a lot of activity up in those neurons. Hmmmm. I guess this is where I should continue on being real. So, I noticed a pattern in my life (noticed it probably six years ago, but didn't know how to rectify it until four years ago...though deep healing has come only recently), one that is more obvious than most but for a long time it was a major access point of shame for me. I suppose it is actually two patterns from the same source. I looked for a father in other people: my middle school band teacher, and my pastor at NRVCC. I even sought Rick's approval for a time. I looked for intimacy in men: uh...maybe I'll save that for another day. So the desire was always there to know my Father. Misplaced but not buried.
As for my earthly faja, this has been a season of family and I can't tell you how many times I've thought to myself, wow my dad is really an amazing (for lack of a better word) man. You were right D., God has been restoring that severed artery and I am slowly feeling the feeling of a rush of blood. It can be unpleasant, uncomfortable but I know it is truly what my heart desires. If there wasn't a little discomfort I'd think God had etherized the situation and I'd wake up not quite sure what had happened. The Great Physician is no WWII experimenter or Frankenstein, "It is alive!." He is skilled with His hands and careful with His children.
Still, I don't think I ever answered my question. Maybe I don't know the answer fully. This is what I can perceive as of now. God is a family man, and He takes delight in disrupting the schemes of the enemy. He takes delight in the restoration of a child's heart to the father because He is a Father. It gives Him hope that His children will return to Him. He knows the blessings that flow as a result and the curses that can equally come. I lost my train of thought...two men working on Heather's house just mentioned they're both getting divorces. Well, one said he is still suffering his after eight years. Father, give me words of life to speak. Better stop procrastinating on studying strongholds. The day is almost half over. May we all hear the Spirit's cry, "Abba!"
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Like Strawberry Wine Interludes
I am feeling inspired, bubbly, girly...a little intoxicated. It's not Killians and it's not mom's secret supply of the old gaffer's mead (wink). I think we could stand to learn a few things from that spirited race of little, plump people. But this is not a Tolkien character study so on I press to the heart of the matter. Don't worry Heather, Evelyn was securely fastened in her booster seat, doors locked, books on either side. I saw her distant stare; she was probably flying through tree-town on a Pteradactyl. Anyway, we were stopped by a train out in Ellot Valley and as it coasted by I closed my eyes. I don't remember falling asleep but it is very well possible as my sleep bank is building. After the train passed and perhaps five minutes down the road I remembered a brief dream/vision. So I must have fallen asleep for a moment or fallen off the waking reality plane but not quite into the realm of R.E.M. This is what I saw:
Dad was sitting at the head of a dining room table. The rest of the family stood around the table, though I cannot remember specific faces save for mom to my right and Keith to my left. In front of us were white cloths, probably the size of handkerchiefs. Then dad said he wanted to pray for us.
That's it. We can all go home. Now I'm here, asking the Lord what He wanted to communicate to me. A table to me is a place of feeding and communion. A place, like last night, where real issues are shared, laughs exchanged, and wisdom imparted (wink). The white cloths: white can mean the Spirit of the Lord/power and a cloth perhaps covering. The fact that dad was the only one not standing communicates humility in his authority (I get chills when I think about this part...The Father need not stand, not yet. He is at rest in His rule and perfection. He longs to meet us as Jesus met us, humbly yet without irreverance on our parts). He was at the head of the table, symbolic perhaps of the headship of the Father (although Jesus is the head of the church, the Father is the head of the trinity). Or did I make that up? Oh well. He wanted to intercede on our behalf as we were about to be given something; I believe we were standing because He wanted to give us honor. But more specifically a hand tailored portion of His Spirit or power. Hey, I'd take both.
Well that's it for the time being. I need to take advantage of this chill day and.....zzzzzzz.....zzzzzzz....zzz
I am feeling inspired, bubbly, girly...a little intoxicated. It's not Killians and it's not mom's secret supply of the old gaffer's mead (wink). I think we could stand to learn a few things from that spirited race of little, plump people. But this is not a Tolkien character study so on I press to the heart of the matter. Don't worry Heather, Evelyn was securely fastened in her booster seat, doors locked, books on either side. I saw her distant stare; she was probably flying through tree-town on a Pteradactyl. Anyway, we were stopped by a train out in Ellot Valley and as it coasted by I closed my eyes. I don't remember falling asleep but it is very well possible as my sleep bank is building. After the train passed and perhaps five minutes down the road I remembered a brief dream/vision. So I must have fallen asleep for a moment or fallen off the waking reality plane but not quite into the realm of R.E.M. This is what I saw:
Dad was sitting at the head of a dining room table. The rest of the family stood around the table, though I cannot remember specific faces save for mom to my right and Keith to my left. In front of us were white cloths, probably the size of handkerchiefs. Then dad said he wanted to pray for us.
That's it. We can all go home. Now I'm here, asking the Lord what He wanted to communicate to me. A table to me is a place of feeding and communion. A place, like last night, where real issues are shared, laughs exchanged, and wisdom imparted (wink). The white cloths: white can mean the Spirit of the Lord/power and a cloth perhaps covering. The fact that dad was the only one not standing communicates humility in his authority (I get chills when I think about this part...The Father need not stand, not yet. He is at rest in His rule and perfection. He longs to meet us as Jesus met us, humbly yet without irreverance on our parts). He was at the head of the table, symbolic perhaps of the headship of the Father (although Jesus is the head of the church, the Father is the head of the trinity). Or did I make that up? Oh well. He wanted to intercede on our behalf as we were about to be given something; I believe we were standing because He wanted to give us honor. But more specifically a hand tailored portion of His Spirit or power. Hey, I'd take both.
Well that's it for the time being. I need to take advantage of this chill day and.....zzzzzzz.....zzzzzzz....zzz
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Stalking Jim Goll
I read his book The Seer and another one he co-authored; I find him very insightful into the prophetic realm. His latest is called The Coming Prophetic Revolution: A Call for Passionate, Consencrated Warriors. Who could resist a title like that? My heart lept when it laid eyes on the phatly illustrated cover. Anyway, I've just finished reading the chapter on the cross. Don't wince, don't turn away oh ye hard hearts. We need fresh revelation on the cross...thank you Mel. I wanted to share a few excerpts here and then perhaps briefly some of my own journey into friendship with God.
Dr. Michael L. Brown writes:
Our Savior made this perfectly clear, establishing two foundations for battle. The first foundation is, Take up your cross. The second foundation is, Put down your sword. We tend to get things reversed! We take up our sword, relying on human methods to change the world, and we put down our cross, despising God's method to change the world. God's method runs counter to the flesh. God's method seems weak and foolish. God's method flies in the face of established wisdom. God's method seems doomed to failure and defeat, yet it is the only way to succeed and win. God's method is the Cross!
John and Paula Sandford write:
End-time prophets must be thoroughly dead to themselves in our Lord and risen to perfect obedience. Their minds must be purely in Him, lest they cast water on fires God is building, or worse yet, call for fires of suffering out of their own hidden desires for vengeance. The necessity of discipline is thus heavy upon us. Any fire, spiritual or earthly, is most difficult to control. Yes, controlled fires have warmed our houses, cooked our food and driven our engines. Controlled spiritual fire is even more necessary and valuable. Men must learn, as Paul did, to let affliction work its weight of gold.
The chapter begins with an encounter with Abraham. He was called the friend of God. Well, here is where my story enters the stream of Abraham's and Jim Goll's. Four year ago (I seem to be saying that a lot lately) I wrote in a journal that I just wanted to know I was the Lord's friend. The next day at a college meeting Dr. Neil Steiner approached me and said, "The Lord wants you to know you are His friend." I about crapped my pants! But several months before this occurred, it was summer and I was playing the Ancient One outside on the Nikkel Lane deck. I wrote my very first song. Of course I didn't have the confidence to show anyone, let alone sing it. But some of the lyrics had to do with Abraham. The Lord said something like "Remember Abraham who lived like a stranger in the land of promise" and then He went on to say something about without faith it is a slow-dying love. The chorus was about taking your inheritance, and how He would bring it forth. God! How could I not hold onto that? How did I not have more confidence that that was You? Man, Satan is a deceitful bastard!---and good at it, as we all know. But You are faithful!!! Anyway, a couple of nights ago in a dream I was sharing some song with dad. He asked me, "Aren't those the same chords for the very first song you ever wrote?" And they are...in real life. I haven't quite worked the words to the chords fully but it's the same progression I used four years ago and didn't even realize it! Abraham went into exile for forty years? until God returned him to the place that he originally began (if that makes sense). He believed God and it was accounted to him as righteousness, so even in exile he was a friend and confidant to the Lord. I need to read up on him some more.
Today is pizza day with Evelyn's dad. And I was just thinking this morning how great pizza would taste. Unfortunately I wore my new line of Pink pajamas from Vic's Secret. That'll do. Tangy and I were laughing the other day about starting a men's underwear/lingerie store. Vick's Secret for Club Trendy boy. Haha.
PPS The place of circumcision is called Gilgal where Joshua had to wack away at the warriors born in the wilderness. Gilgal was also one of the places where Elijah told Elisha to stay.
I read his book The Seer and another one he co-authored; I find him very insightful into the prophetic realm. His latest is called The Coming Prophetic Revolution: A Call for Passionate, Consencrated Warriors. Who could resist a title like that? My heart lept when it laid eyes on the phatly illustrated cover. Anyway, I've just finished reading the chapter on the cross. Don't wince, don't turn away oh ye hard hearts. We need fresh revelation on the cross...thank you Mel. I wanted to share a few excerpts here and then perhaps briefly some of my own journey into friendship with God.
Dr. Michael L. Brown writes:
Our Savior made this perfectly clear, establishing two foundations for battle. The first foundation is, Take up your cross. The second foundation is, Put down your sword. We tend to get things reversed! We take up our sword, relying on human methods to change the world, and we put down our cross, despising God's method to change the world. God's method runs counter to the flesh. God's method seems weak and foolish. God's method flies in the face of established wisdom. God's method seems doomed to failure and defeat, yet it is the only way to succeed and win. God's method is the Cross!
John and Paula Sandford write:
End-time prophets must be thoroughly dead to themselves in our Lord and risen to perfect obedience. Their minds must be purely in Him, lest they cast water on fires God is building, or worse yet, call for fires of suffering out of their own hidden desires for vengeance. The necessity of discipline is thus heavy upon us. Any fire, spiritual or earthly, is most difficult to control. Yes, controlled fires have warmed our houses, cooked our food and driven our engines. Controlled spiritual fire is even more necessary and valuable. Men must learn, as Paul did, to let affliction work its weight of gold.
The chapter begins with an encounter with Abraham. He was called the friend of God. Well, here is where my story enters the stream of Abraham's and Jim Goll's. Four year ago (I seem to be saying that a lot lately) I wrote in a journal that I just wanted to know I was the Lord's friend. The next day at a college meeting Dr. Neil Steiner approached me and said, "The Lord wants you to know you are His friend." I about crapped my pants! But several months before this occurred, it was summer and I was playing the Ancient One outside on the Nikkel Lane deck. I wrote my very first song. Of course I didn't have the confidence to show anyone, let alone sing it. But some of the lyrics had to do with Abraham. The Lord said something like "Remember Abraham who lived like a stranger in the land of promise" and then He went on to say something about without faith it is a slow-dying love. The chorus was about taking your inheritance, and how He would bring it forth. God! How could I not hold onto that? How did I not have more confidence that that was You? Man, Satan is a deceitful bastard!---and good at it, as we all know. But You are faithful!!! Anyway, a couple of nights ago in a dream I was sharing some song with dad. He asked me, "Aren't those the same chords for the very first song you ever wrote?" And they are...in real life. I haven't quite worked the words to the chords fully but it's the same progression I used four years ago and didn't even realize it! Abraham went into exile for forty years? until God returned him to the place that he originally began (if that makes sense). He believed God and it was accounted to him as righteousness, so even in exile he was a friend and confidant to the Lord. I need to read up on him some more.
Today is pizza day with Evelyn's dad. And I was just thinking this morning how great pizza would taste. Unfortunately I wore my new line of Pink pajamas from Vic's Secret. That'll do. Tangy and I were laughing the other day about starting a men's underwear/lingerie store. Vick's Secret for Club Trendy boy. Haha.
PPS The place of circumcision is called Gilgal where Joshua had to wack away at the warriors born in the wilderness. Gilgal was also one of the places where Elijah told Elisha to stay.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
tHE iDOL Of mAN'S tHOUgHTs
Well dad, you were right about the thoughts and opinions of man being an idol. Thanks for that little revelation. I repented of it on the way home in a very heartfelt, tears gushing sort of way. And then I couldn't stop singing Shane and Shane's version of the old school "You are Exalted." I have to "do" (b/c I hate the word teach...it's a stronghold for me) the strongholds section this weekend at the intern encounter. I came in and told Maranda and Leigh: "I just got set free from the stronghold of the thoughts and opinions of man. But I can't tell you the situation cause you might think ill of me." Hahahahahahahaha.
Now that I think about it, the dream I had two nights ago probably had much to do with this. I was downtown Blacksburg, just sitting on the sidewalk across from the old middle school and suddenly I was confronted by all these people from college. They didn't pester me; most of them were glad to see me. But then one girl said: "I never got to throw you that party." She hesitated. "But oh, aren't you the girl who changed her life around?" I felt sheepish and sarcastic as I said, "Yeah, I'm a legend." And then I was alone, walking down the sidewalk toward Christiansburg. I heard a baseball game going on over in the stadium at the old middle school. I thought about singing but I'm not sure if it was in relationship to the game. It was then that the Lord reminded me (internally) of the fact that He will bring about His promises. And that's all I could remember when I woke up.
So I'm praying that I can be Your fool. Not just in the ways I want to but in the difficult places where it might be easy to hide. Because you can be obedient, even a little contemplative, but never really love the Lord. Loving Him means going above and beyond the status quo, the norm of Christian means, not because you have to but because He is worthy of all of our heart. And You know what He told me along time ago? "See if I won't surprise you time after time and time after time." What does surprise mean to me? Explode into view, swept off my feet, delightfully caught off guard...
He is the Lord
Forever His truth shall reign...
His is exalted
The King is exalted on high...
P.S. Just checked my email and what did I get??? A thought and opinion from grandma! Dad...I'm pissed off right now. And I have to shop with her all day. I already feel shutters closing, lights dimming, survival-only breathing and water rationing. MacGyver, you taught me well. Mmmmm...need more coffee. If anyone gets the SOS tell them...tell them that Big Foot does exist. Tell them that spoiled children are great to taunt and probably get turned into dragons at some point in life. Whether they return to their original forms is entirely up to them.
Well dad, you were right about the thoughts and opinions of man being an idol. Thanks for that little revelation. I repented of it on the way home in a very heartfelt, tears gushing sort of way. And then I couldn't stop singing Shane and Shane's version of the old school "You are Exalted." I have to "do" (b/c I hate the word teach...it's a stronghold for me) the strongholds section this weekend at the intern encounter. I came in and told Maranda and Leigh: "I just got set free from the stronghold of the thoughts and opinions of man. But I can't tell you the situation cause you might think ill of me." Hahahahahahahaha.
Now that I think about it, the dream I had two nights ago probably had much to do with this. I was downtown Blacksburg, just sitting on the sidewalk across from the old middle school and suddenly I was confronted by all these people from college. They didn't pester me; most of them were glad to see me. But then one girl said: "I never got to throw you that party." She hesitated. "But oh, aren't you the girl who changed her life around?" I felt sheepish and sarcastic as I said, "Yeah, I'm a legend." And then I was alone, walking down the sidewalk toward Christiansburg. I heard a baseball game going on over in the stadium at the old middle school. I thought about singing but I'm not sure if it was in relationship to the game. It was then that the Lord reminded me (internally) of the fact that He will bring about His promises. And that's all I could remember when I woke up.
So I'm praying that I can be Your fool. Not just in the ways I want to but in the difficult places where it might be easy to hide. Because you can be obedient, even a little contemplative, but never really love the Lord. Loving Him means going above and beyond the status quo, the norm of Christian means, not because you have to but because He is worthy of all of our heart. And You know what He told me along time ago? "See if I won't surprise you time after time and time after time." What does surprise mean to me? Explode into view, swept off my feet, delightfully caught off guard...
He is the Lord
Forever His truth shall reign...
His is exalted
The King is exalted on high...
P.S. Just checked my email and what did I get??? A thought and opinion from grandma! Dad...I'm pissed off right now. And I have to shop with her all day. I already feel shutters closing, lights dimming, survival-only breathing and water rationing. MacGyver, you taught me well. Mmmmm...need more coffee. If anyone gets the SOS tell them...tell them that Big Foot does exist. Tell them that spoiled children are great to taunt and probably get turned into dragons at some point in life. Whether they return to their original forms is entirely up to them.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
The Latest
So here are those midnight lyrics...sometimes you just can't quite find the right words...but hey He knows what's up. Might want a third verse.
(Untitled thus far)
I don't have much to say
Sometimes it's better just sitting at the edge of this fire
I'm barely touching, but it's burning all the same
And I hope You don't mind that I intend to stay
There's nothing I can hide
Nothing You can't see when I'm a mirror for this flame inside
I'm barely reaching, but it's enough for You
This little bit of yearning can change a nation
So come on down
and give me all You got
I don't want another handful
So come on down
and hit me with all You got
For You are so good (repeat 4x?)
So here are those midnight lyrics...sometimes you just can't quite find the right words...but hey He knows what's up. Might want a third verse.
(Untitled thus far)
I don't have much to say
Sometimes it's better just sitting at the edge of this fire
I'm barely touching, but it's burning all the same
And I hope You don't mind that I intend to stay
There's nothing I can hide
Nothing You can't see when I'm a mirror for this flame inside
I'm barely reaching, but it's enough for You
This little bit of yearning can change a nation
So come on down
and give me all You got
I don't want another handful
So come on down
and hit me with all You got
For You are so good (repeat 4x?)
Friday, August 19, 2005
Strange Days
So I'm up at 1:00 am although I have to be back up at 7:30 am. I feel sort of pumped for no apparent reason...well that's a lie, there is a reason. It was raining and that was comforting. Now I'm left with the aftermath of some midnight lyrics running through my head. I'm hearing chords too but I don't know if they're for this song. It's about sitting at the edge of the Lord's fire. I saw Him in a living room type setting like His garments were lit up but not in a I'm going to overpower you way but in a come chill with Me way. What spawned all this? I have been very frustrated with some things in my life lately. It all bubbled up and I needed to do something with it. My days have been like the following: well Lord when are You going to come through? Haven't I walked in wisdom and been faithful long enough? Where's the fruit? Um, did you even mean what You said or are You just going to leave me hanging? People are wondering what the heck this girl is doing. And the only thing I can think of is I don't know. The further I get into this with You the further I feel from everything that's normal. My relationships have gone to hell mostly, and according to a book I'm reading a woman defines her life around the status of her relationships. I'd tend to agree. I feel like I don't treat others the way they deserve but at the same time I don't feel like it should matter. All I know is that I love You and if that is what will define my life then so be it. I wonder if I'll be able to take care of myself like college graduates should or what my professor will say after he reads my last essay. What was I thinking? Well they say those that seek You with their whole heart will find You. So I'm hoping this is what it's all leading to. That I'll get to see You again. And I won't let go this time. Or maybe You'll shake me up a bit and say get a real job, Amy. No, none of that self-defacement crap. I can't stand it when people crap on themselves in front of others just to get encouragement. It's better they just say hey could you pray for me? I think sometimes people are intimidated by me; either that or they just don't like me. The latter is your choice. I see the way Aaron hesitates around me and I try to remember when our relationship changed. It's still me. The Amy that made you watch Sound of Music. The Amy obssessed with X-files and my stupid dog. The Amy that would drive you anywhere. Susie, you say I don't talk alot anymore to you. Sorry, it's because for some reason the fight to feel like me tends to make me quiet. I'm really not that complicated when you get down to the nitty and gritty. I don't try to think great thoughts or write great stuff. I like to laugh and enjoy life. When "great" moments come along I hope I'm not alone in them. But most of the time I feel like I am. Yet another revelation from my latest read. I like to experience the beauty of the Lord in creation cause it really does pierce your heart, Pascal. I like gritting my teeth, choking back tears, wiping a bloody lip, and pressing on. I like laughing at silly things with the Lord when no one is looking. And above all, I wonder, if You meant what You said all those years ago, if what I believe, and what I'm moving toward is Your plan...why me? I'm just a silly girl raised in boondock Virginia. Or if it's all a delusion of grandeur...wake me up soon please.
So I'm up at 1:00 am although I have to be back up at 7:30 am. I feel sort of pumped for no apparent reason...well that's a lie, there is a reason. It was raining and that was comforting. Now I'm left with the aftermath of some midnight lyrics running through my head. I'm hearing chords too but I don't know if they're for this song. It's about sitting at the edge of the Lord's fire. I saw Him in a living room type setting like His garments were lit up but not in a I'm going to overpower you way but in a come chill with Me way. What spawned all this? I have been very frustrated with some things in my life lately. It all bubbled up and I needed to do something with it. My days have been like the following: well Lord when are You going to come through? Haven't I walked in wisdom and been faithful long enough? Where's the fruit? Um, did you even mean what You said or are You just going to leave me hanging? People are wondering what the heck this girl is doing. And the only thing I can think of is I don't know. The further I get into this with You the further I feel from everything that's normal. My relationships have gone to hell mostly, and according to a book I'm reading a woman defines her life around the status of her relationships. I'd tend to agree. I feel like I don't treat others the way they deserve but at the same time I don't feel like it should matter. All I know is that I love You and if that is what will define my life then so be it. I wonder if I'll be able to take care of myself like college graduates should or what my professor will say after he reads my last essay. What was I thinking? Well they say those that seek You with their whole heart will find You. So I'm hoping this is what it's all leading to. That I'll get to see You again. And I won't let go this time. Or maybe You'll shake me up a bit and say get a real job, Amy. No, none of that self-defacement crap. I can't stand it when people crap on themselves in front of others just to get encouragement. It's better they just say hey could you pray for me? I think sometimes people are intimidated by me; either that or they just don't like me. The latter is your choice. I see the way Aaron hesitates around me and I try to remember when our relationship changed. It's still me. The Amy that made you watch Sound of Music. The Amy obssessed with X-files and my stupid dog. The Amy that would drive you anywhere. Susie, you say I don't talk alot anymore to you. Sorry, it's because for some reason the fight to feel like me tends to make me quiet. I'm really not that complicated when you get down to the nitty and gritty. I don't try to think great thoughts or write great stuff. I like to laugh and enjoy life. When "great" moments come along I hope I'm not alone in them. But most of the time I feel like I am. Yet another revelation from my latest read. I like to experience the beauty of the Lord in creation cause it really does pierce your heart, Pascal. I like gritting my teeth, choking back tears, wiping a bloody lip, and pressing on. I like laughing at silly things with the Lord when no one is looking. And above all, I wonder, if You meant what You said all those years ago, if what I believe, and what I'm moving toward is Your plan...why me? I'm just a silly girl raised in boondock Virginia. Or if it's all a delusion of grandeur...wake me up soon please.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Time on My Hands
Frenchie a nanny? I really feel like Maria Von Trapp bringing the Ancient One in here (my dad's old guitar). But I guess there are a few things lacking...six other kids...the Captain...and a million dollar mansion. And I don't think I'd ever cut my hair that short...although mom gave me a mullet once. A random blurp of frustration: I think we try to sell people ministry by saying things like "this is a big deal" or such and such but I know and you know if we're doing it because of the reward or the "bigness" then we're already screwed. I was listening to Paul Wilbur's "Watchman" CD on the way to Roanoke this morning. It is powerful. Loretta, who tours with Messiah Company, said when you're with him you just feel the kind of power and authority he wields. Yeah wields, like Madmartigan's double handed sword wielding. But I'm thinking he had to learn to be a son first. They go from place to place on six hours of sleep a night and play for congregations of thousands. You can't keep that up unless you know who you are and what you've been called to. Cause ole twinkle star Satan'll get in there with his hammer and the pounding begins. You know what I mean. I think this goes back to what Jim was saying about the seven spirits of God. I don't remember them all but the foundation for might (power, miracles, blah blah blah) is understanding and wisdom. Understanding who God is and how he relates to us. Wisdom in how to walk with Him. Then you get the bling bling because it's a natural progression of passing Himself on to us. It's like you grow up with your dad and he teaches you how to be honest, how to trust him, etc, by just hanging with him and watching what he does. Then when you're a little older he starts to show you cool things that eventually lead to more freedom. You know you can trust him so he teaches you how to ride a bike. He knows he can trust you so at age sixteen he buys you a car. And it's all been building. So here's to the day of small beginnings! It's the foundation of the rest of your life and it's no small thing.
Frenchie a nanny? I really feel like Maria Von Trapp bringing the Ancient One in here (my dad's old guitar). But I guess there are a few things lacking...six other kids...the Captain...and a million dollar mansion. And I don't think I'd ever cut my hair that short...although mom gave me a mullet once. A random blurp of frustration: I think we try to sell people ministry by saying things like "this is a big deal" or such and such but I know and you know if we're doing it because of the reward or the "bigness" then we're already screwed. I was listening to Paul Wilbur's "Watchman" CD on the way to Roanoke this morning. It is powerful. Loretta, who tours with Messiah Company, said when you're with him you just feel the kind of power and authority he wields. Yeah wields, like Madmartigan's double handed sword wielding. But I'm thinking he had to learn to be a son first. They go from place to place on six hours of sleep a night and play for congregations of thousands. You can't keep that up unless you know who you are and what you've been called to. Cause ole twinkle star Satan'll get in there with his hammer and the pounding begins. You know what I mean. I think this goes back to what Jim was saying about the seven spirits of God. I don't remember them all but the foundation for might (power, miracles, blah blah blah) is understanding and wisdom. Understanding who God is and how he relates to us. Wisdom in how to walk with Him. Then you get the bling bling because it's a natural progression of passing Himself on to us. It's like you grow up with your dad and he teaches you how to be honest, how to trust him, etc, by just hanging with him and watching what he does. Then when you're a little older he starts to show you cool things that eventually lead to more freedom. You know you can trust him so he teaches you how to ride a bike. He knows he can trust you so at age sixteen he buys you a car. And it's all been building. So here's to the day of small beginnings! It's the foundation of the rest of your life and it's no small thing.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Confessions
It's not like I had a bad day; in fact it was pretty uneventful. I'm not under a cloud of depression nor in the midst of some earth shattering storm. Maybe it's just the monthly ticking of a woman's biological...well I probably don't need to say anymore. Or maybe it's the accumulation of observations that have no avenue of expression. So, what better way to vent than to call it poetry? That's what the feminists do and pissed off African Americans.
(WWJD?) Blow Up the World
I hate the way I can't say what I mean when stars are shooting by and the music is right
I hate giving my all and slamming into all kinds of walls
I hate the fact that I can be bold when I just do it
I hate the fact because if I'm not bold then I'm something else
I hate that life can be boring most of the time with little pockets of wonder
I hate sitting in coffee shops with people I don't love
I hate listening to their arguments when their words don't contend with my Father's
I hate that I can't love them anyway
I hate that people are afraid of change, real change, the kind that requires a little pain
I hate it when I feel like a fool and the Lord is hiding too
I hate it because He's suppose to be inside of me so maybe it's me that's hiding Him
I hate it when I see a new level but I feel like it's just me taking a step
I hate that most of the time people say one thing but do another
I hate that we tend to fight the same old enemy but in different forms
I hate that I don't know how to cut off its head
I hate it when I listen to its lies, cause they're always the same, repetitive and slimy
I hate the fact that I spent even these few minutes saying what I hate cause I love so much more
I hate that I hate at all
I'll love you hate to death, for now, go to hell
It's not like I had a bad day; in fact it was pretty uneventful. I'm not under a cloud of depression nor in the midst of some earth shattering storm. Maybe it's just the monthly ticking of a woman's biological...well I probably don't need to say anymore. Or maybe it's the accumulation of observations that have no avenue of expression. So, what better way to vent than to call it poetry? That's what the feminists do and pissed off African Americans.
(WWJD?) Blow Up the World
I hate the way I can't say what I mean when stars are shooting by and the music is right
I hate giving my all and slamming into all kinds of walls
I hate the fact that I can be bold when I just do it
I hate the fact because if I'm not bold then I'm something else
I hate that life can be boring most of the time with little pockets of wonder
I hate sitting in coffee shops with people I don't love
I hate listening to their arguments when their words don't contend with my Father's
I hate that I can't love them anyway
I hate that people are afraid of change, real change, the kind that requires a little pain
I hate it when I feel like a fool and the Lord is hiding too
I hate it because He's suppose to be inside of me so maybe it's me that's hiding Him
I hate it when I see a new level but I feel like it's just me taking a step
I hate that most of the time people say one thing but do another
I hate that we tend to fight the same old enemy but in different forms
I hate that I don't know how to cut off its head
I hate it when I listen to its lies, cause they're always the same, repetitive and slimy
I hate the fact that I spent even these few minutes saying what I hate cause I love so much more
I hate that I hate at all
I'll love you hate to death, for now, go to hell
Monday, August 08, 2005
The Power of Fermentation
Wow! What a weekend. There is too much to record on...I know I'll forget details so I decided to focus on the theme that ran throughout particular events. I did some brief research on the process of fermentation and although it varies for white and red wines, essentially the steps are similar. First of all I must say we are all created to be intoxicated by the love of our Beloved, true wine poured out from His heart to ours. But before we can receive that wine I believe there is a process of fermentation that occurs. So here is how it works: After harvesting the grapes (that goes to say they must grow and mature) they are cleansed to dispel the risk of bacterial infection. Then the grapes are put into containers where they are pressed for several hours. Yeast is added to the juice and the grape skins either rest at the bottom or the top of the tanks. (I love that part! The refreshing, tastiness leaves its skin!) The chemical alteration of sugar to alcohol can take anywhere from 10-20 days. I wondered what yeast might represent according to the Lord. I came to the conclusion that it is what He says about us. Well, there is much more I could say on the matter but I'll leave this post open to your own interpretations. I think I'll go ask the Lord what flavor He prefers.
Wow! What a weekend. There is too much to record on...I know I'll forget details so I decided to focus on the theme that ran throughout particular events. I did some brief research on the process of fermentation and although it varies for white and red wines, essentially the steps are similar. First of all I must say we are all created to be intoxicated by the love of our Beloved, true wine poured out from His heart to ours. But before we can receive that wine I believe there is a process of fermentation that occurs. So here is how it works: After harvesting the grapes (that goes to say they must grow and mature) they are cleansed to dispel the risk of bacterial infection. Then the grapes are put into containers where they are pressed for several hours. Yeast is added to the juice and the grape skins either rest at the bottom or the top of the tanks. (I love that part! The refreshing, tastiness leaves its skin!) The chemical alteration of sugar to alcohol can take anywhere from 10-20 days. I wondered what yeast might represent according to the Lord. I came to the conclusion that it is what He says about us. Well, there is much more I could say on the matter but I'll leave this post open to your own interpretations. I think I'll go ask the Lord what flavor He prefers.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Origins of Godzilla
Originally it was a film done in Tokyo under the name Gojira, I believe; the japanese combo for whale and gorilla. Later, America remade the movie and entitled it Godzilla. If you don't know he is a radioactively altered dinosaur that is almost impenetrable and capable of breathing fire (or at least some ignitable poisonous gas). But I was more interested in what the suffix "zilla" stood for. I found that it is a plant that grows in the Egyptian desert...interesting. Also, simply it means little. So, little god.
Originally it was a film done in Tokyo under the name Gojira, I believe; the japanese combo for whale and gorilla. Later, America remade the movie and entitled it Godzilla. If you don't know he is a radioactively altered dinosaur that is almost impenetrable and capable of breathing fire (or at least some ignitable poisonous gas). But I was more interested in what the suffix "zilla" stood for. I found that it is a plant that grows in the Egyptian desert...interesting. Also, simply it means little. So, little god.
Monday, July 25, 2005
godzilla
I had a dream Saturday night in which a town was being attacked by mechnical godzillas that did an eye-zapping thing sort of like the tripods in "War of the Worlds." It was night and the city was full of people trying to escape. I had a young boy with me and we were warned not to hide out in a room that seemed safe because of its thick walls. Someone said the walls would heat up and the people inside would burn to death. So I ran, and although I never saw the godzillas, I knew in my mind what they were and that they had been here before. The next morning the city was devestated. But I and the young boy had escaped. We had written a message on the wall telling his father where to find us. He did and they were reunited.
So if this speaks to you...stay away from that room! Just keep moving forward.
I had a dream Saturday night in which a town was being attacked by mechnical godzillas that did an eye-zapping thing sort of like the tripods in "War of the Worlds." It was night and the city was full of people trying to escape. I had a young boy with me and we were warned not to hide out in a room that seemed safe because of its thick walls. Someone said the walls would heat up and the people inside would burn to death. So I ran, and although I never saw the godzillas, I knew in my mind what they were and that they had been here before. The next morning the city was devestated. But I and the young boy had escaped. We had written a message on the wall telling his father where to find us. He did and they were reunited.
So if this speaks to you...stay away from that room! Just keep moving forward.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Psalm 44:3-7
For by their own sword they did not possess the land,
And their own arm did not save them,
But Your right hand and Your right arm and the light of Your presence,
For You favored them.
Your are my King, O God;
Command victories for Jacob.
Through You we will push back our adversaries;
Through Your name we will trample down those who rise up against us.
For I will not trust in my bow,
Nor will my sword save me.
But You have saved us from our adversaries,
And You have put to shame those who hate us.
It is interesting to be able to identify your own conflicts with those that David and others were experiencing at the time. To actually place your emotions within the context of the Psalms not only seems to disrupt feelings of isolation but it imparts hope as well. I read this passage this morning and I felt it was a reminder as many of us press on towards our promise lands. I will not trust in my own abilities or gifts, I will trust in You. I will not allow discouragement to back me down for You are faithful. Who rules above You? Everything is in subjection to You. Bring Your favor and Your blessings upon us. And when Your light goes with us our enemies cannot draw near. When we walk in Your presence strongholds are exposed and freedom is our portion. I pray that we will trust You and rest in that trust. Those who hope in the Lord will not be put to shame.
For interesting insight into the blessings of Jacob (for he is mentioned in the above scripture) go to www.whitedoveministries.org and check out the first section of 2005's Shepherd's Rod.
For by their own sword they did not possess the land,
And their own arm did not save them,
But Your right hand and Your right arm and the light of Your presence,
For You favored them.
Your are my King, O God;
Command victories for Jacob.
Through You we will push back our adversaries;
Through Your name we will trample down those who rise up against us.
For I will not trust in my bow,
Nor will my sword save me.
But You have saved us from our adversaries,
And You have put to shame those who hate us.
It is interesting to be able to identify your own conflicts with those that David and others were experiencing at the time. To actually place your emotions within the context of the Psalms not only seems to disrupt feelings of isolation but it imparts hope as well. I read this passage this morning and I felt it was a reminder as many of us press on towards our promise lands. I will not trust in my own abilities or gifts, I will trust in You. I will not allow discouragement to back me down for You are faithful. Who rules above You? Everything is in subjection to You. Bring Your favor and Your blessings upon us. And when Your light goes with us our enemies cannot draw near. When we walk in Your presence strongholds are exposed and freedom is our portion. I pray that we will trust You and rest in that trust. Those who hope in the Lord will not be put to shame.
For interesting insight into the blessings of Jacob (for he is mentioned in the above scripture) go to www.whitedoveministries.org and check out the first section of 2005's Shepherd's Rod.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Tribute
Today "Beam me up Scotty" died. In honor of him this is a Star Trek rendition of last night's intern reunion (more of a meeting to discuss us teaching at a retreat but I did not want to say all that).
Cast:
Rick Sizemore as Kirk
Marc as Bones
Jared as Spock
Tulio as Scotty
Dave as Chekhov
Maranda as Nurse Chappel
Heather as Uhura
Amy as the villain
Stardate: 24543.1
Setting: Debriefing room after a recent mission to the planet, Pixie IV.
Scotty: Well Jim, I just didn't have the power. I heard you loud and clear through our official Christian Comm Link, the new and upgraded fish edition. But I haven't installed the matching chariot transporter interface yet.
Bones: Damn it Jim, we lost your signal after you took off for the grande opening of Pixie Donuts. Do you know what those ingredients will do to a man your age?
Kirk: I am fully aware of the danger I placed myself in. It was well worth the risk. Everything would have been fine if the natives had not unleashed their gods.
Spock: It is irrational to call large, carnivorous chickens gods. They are in fact composed of the same biological blueprints as those on earth. The molecular composition of the stratosphere on Pixie IV is conducive to extended growth.
Kirk: The point is my Vulcan friend, I wanted my Pixie Creams.
Chekhov: Only, they were too big to eat and I had to drag you out of a pile of greenish goo.
Bones: Good God man, that wasn't donut filling! Did you ingest any?
Chekhov: Well, no I didn't have time. The chickens were tailing us. We got lucky that they became preoccupied with the donuts.
Kirk: Yeah, Jesus! If it wasn't donut filling what was it?
Nurse Chappell: I did an analysis on some of the residue left on your tunic in-between Trading Spaces 3001. They recently cloned Frank's clone but he's just not the same. Hillary's robotic breast implant is starting to consume too much oil. They might have to amputate.
Spock: Interesting. Vulcans do not see the need for enlarged mammary units.
Bones: Have you all gone mad?
Kirk: Yes, what kind of donut filling was the green goo?
Nurse Chappell: The test results showed...
Chekov: Let me guess, one of those prehistoric birds ate too many donuts and spewed.
Nurse Chappell: No, not spew. But poo.
Kirk: I ate Pixie poo?
Uhura: Captain, although I do enjoy just sitting here as a luscious, exotic babe, I have to say that our date is off!
Scotty: Maybe that's why the transporter could not lock on a signal. Even though I was operating the white horse edition it still should have worked once you were out of range from the filth of Pixie.
Kirk: Don't worry about it, Scotty. You can buy me a drink.
Bones: Count me in! I've got a head ache from hell.
Spock: That is very implausible.
Bones: Oh lighten up my pointy-ear companion.
Spock: That is also implausible.
Little did the team know that these very large, very hungry chickens could fly. In fact, they could also hold their breaths for some time, which made the next part a good ending.
Scotty: Did anyone feel that rumbling?
Kirk: It wasn't me!
There was no time to call for evasive action. The ceiling was disintegrated by a blood-thirsty beak. As gravity left the Enterprise, the crew began to float toward the squawking mouth. One by one they were consumed in a frenzy of feathers and all that could be heard was the deafening cry of the chicken: "Stargate rules!"
Today "Beam me up Scotty" died. In honor of him this is a Star Trek rendition of last night's intern reunion (more of a meeting to discuss us teaching at a retreat but I did not want to say all that).
Cast:
Rick Sizemore as Kirk
Marc as Bones
Jared as Spock
Tulio as Scotty
Dave as Chekhov
Maranda as Nurse Chappel
Heather as Uhura
Amy as the villain
Stardate: 24543.1
Setting: Debriefing room after a recent mission to the planet, Pixie IV.
Scotty: Well Jim, I just didn't have the power. I heard you loud and clear through our official Christian Comm Link, the new and upgraded fish edition. But I haven't installed the matching chariot transporter interface yet.
Bones: Damn it Jim, we lost your signal after you took off for the grande opening of Pixie Donuts. Do you know what those ingredients will do to a man your age?
Kirk: I am fully aware of the danger I placed myself in. It was well worth the risk. Everything would have been fine if the natives had not unleashed their gods.
Spock: It is irrational to call large, carnivorous chickens gods. They are in fact composed of the same biological blueprints as those on earth. The molecular composition of the stratosphere on Pixie IV is conducive to extended growth.
Kirk: The point is my Vulcan friend, I wanted my Pixie Creams.
Chekhov: Only, they were too big to eat and I had to drag you out of a pile of greenish goo.
Bones: Good God man, that wasn't donut filling! Did you ingest any?
Chekhov: Well, no I didn't have time. The chickens were tailing us. We got lucky that they became preoccupied with the donuts.
Kirk: Yeah, Jesus! If it wasn't donut filling what was it?
Nurse Chappell: I did an analysis on some of the residue left on your tunic in-between Trading Spaces 3001. They recently cloned Frank's clone but he's just not the same. Hillary's robotic breast implant is starting to consume too much oil. They might have to amputate.
Spock: Interesting. Vulcans do not see the need for enlarged mammary units.
Bones: Have you all gone mad?
Kirk: Yes, what kind of donut filling was the green goo?
Nurse Chappell: The test results showed...
Chekov: Let me guess, one of those prehistoric birds ate too many donuts and spewed.
Nurse Chappell: No, not spew. But poo.
Kirk: I ate Pixie poo?
Uhura: Captain, although I do enjoy just sitting here as a luscious, exotic babe, I have to say that our date is off!
Scotty: Maybe that's why the transporter could not lock on a signal. Even though I was operating the white horse edition it still should have worked once you were out of range from the filth of Pixie.
Kirk: Don't worry about it, Scotty. You can buy me a drink.
Bones: Count me in! I've got a head ache from hell.
Spock: That is very implausible.
Bones: Oh lighten up my pointy-ear companion.
Spock: That is also implausible.
Little did the team know that these very large, very hungry chickens could fly. In fact, they could also hold their breaths for some time, which made the next part a good ending.
Scotty: Did anyone feel that rumbling?
Kirk: It wasn't me!
There was no time to call for evasive action. The ceiling was disintegrated by a blood-thirsty beak. As gravity left the Enterprise, the crew began to float toward the squawking mouth. One by one they were consumed in a frenzy of feathers and all that could be heard was the deafening cry of the chicken: "Stargate rules!"
I had to write a poem in the fashion of "Jabberwocky" so this is more for entertainment than anything. Enjoy!
Old Men Dream
The night eats the shore in claptrap form
and out of the sea stalks a Slitherwake
tail, moonlight dust along its mouth forlorns
hunger for a KuneClop or River Jake.
Somewhere down the ebbing shoreline
a dark breeze whirls the water west
while Boy awakes near parting tides
rubbing eyes on the winking moon.
Scrumct scrant the Slitherwake talks
to the bone fish digging in blue sand
Scrumpt scrant the Slitherwake stalks
an otherly smell, loathing beautiful man.
Boy gazes at Creeper Underwaloos
skipping their glowing green antenna
feet, zigzagging trails electric light shows
on sea water and starlight splendor.
He never saw the Slitherwake's plunge
from the Otherside, gaping endless deep
a hunger for Boy's heart to jump-plumit
into the cavernous prison, then to sleep.
Yet, unspeakable fortune an invisible
hand snatched Boy to the ebony plain
where planets wink, then sunlight pools
drip and gather till Boy is home again.
Old Men Dream
The night eats the shore in claptrap form
and out of the sea stalks a Slitherwake
tail, moonlight dust along its mouth forlorns
hunger for a KuneClop or River Jake.
Somewhere down the ebbing shoreline
a dark breeze whirls the water west
while Boy awakes near parting tides
rubbing eyes on the winking moon.
Scrumct scrant the Slitherwake talks
to the bone fish digging in blue sand
Scrumpt scrant the Slitherwake stalks
an otherly smell, loathing beautiful man.
Boy gazes at Creeper Underwaloos
skipping their glowing green antenna
feet, zigzagging trails electric light shows
on sea water and starlight splendor.
He never saw the Slitherwake's plunge
from the Otherside, gaping endless deep
a hunger for Boy's heart to jump-plumit
into the cavernous prison, then to sleep.
Yet, unspeakable fortune an invisible
hand snatched Boy to the ebony plain
where planets wink, then sunlight pools
drip and gather till Boy is home again.
Monday, July 18, 2005
3:00 am
"Tornado's you've got to go," Jason Upton sings. The Lord woke me up with a cry for unity and as I sit here the faces of the ones who've been deceived into returning to the world for comfort run through my mind. I hope I sing with the same authority. The love of the Father is too great to separate us from You. I wonder where my brother is...if he's heard You speak in his night or if he's hardened his heart to conform to his own will. I wonder if he'll return to old patterns. I wonder when his hurt first began. Father right now I speak to the tornado's that they've got to go! For those surrounding Jen Bowen too, I speak be gone. And to the men who are being called to rise up and take their place I just speak destiny be imparted. Let Your love surround us all, bring us into the shadow of Your wings. Open our ears to hear the tenderness of Your heart towards those You love. Allure us with lovingkindness. Bind our indentities in You around our hearts so that we cannot be drawn by words to give up our place in You. And if you are reading this, join your own prayers to mine. We are one body, called for one purpose. Protect those on the outer fringes, draw them in by the reality of Your Spirit. Show them it's okay to let their fears go, and trust You. There is so much more You are wanting to give us. We just need to trust You. Father, poor out Your healing on rejected, abandoned hearts. I come against condemnation that might be resonating in their own minds. It's okay to let it go. He's the judge and He desires for his sons and daughters to run with Him, to rule with Him.
"Tornado's you've got to go," Jason Upton sings. The Lord woke me up with a cry for unity and as I sit here the faces of the ones who've been deceived into returning to the world for comfort run through my mind. I hope I sing with the same authority. The love of the Father is too great to separate us from You. I wonder where my brother is...if he's heard You speak in his night or if he's hardened his heart to conform to his own will. I wonder if he'll return to old patterns. I wonder when his hurt first began. Father right now I speak to the tornado's that they've got to go! For those surrounding Jen Bowen too, I speak be gone. And to the men who are being called to rise up and take their place I just speak destiny be imparted. Let Your love surround us all, bring us into the shadow of Your wings. Open our ears to hear the tenderness of Your heart towards those You love. Allure us with lovingkindness. Bind our indentities in You around our hearts so that we cannot be drawn by words to give up our place in You. And if you are reading this, join your own prayers to mine. We are one body, called for one purpose. Protect those on the outer fringes, draw them in by the reality of Your Spirit. Show them it's okay to let their fears go, and trust You. There is so much more You are wanting to give us. We just need to trust You. Father, poor out Your healing on rejected, abandoned hearts. I come against condemnation that might be resonating in their own minds. It's okay to let it go. He's the judge and He desires for his sons and daughters to run with Him, to rule with Him.
Tonight is for Blue (Blue is for You)
To Katie and Kim. Sometimes ya just gotta let it flow.
I will not pretend to know the depths of suffering that the human heart is capable of feeling. I have often wondered why pain? as many of us do. And the response to my question: a dark room with disjointed thoughts...silence...pain. The physical discomfort is almost a distraction to the mind's unaswered pleas. Still, it is better to cry out at the silent walls, to scream tears against the carpet, to wait for an answer in-between heaves. I have seen the opposite. I have seen the eyes blank, I have seen the mouth stiff, and the question irrelevant. I have seen mechanics with a paintbrush painting cogs as stars and a headlight for the sun. After they're done they pat one another on the back, call it a day, and wonder why they never make history. I have seen a heart eaten like another chicken leg, the bone tossed aside, to the dogs, the swine, the puppet master's crooked grin and his crooked knife, stained with yesterday's imperfection, leads to infection, an amputee, a refugee from the holiday promised with peace, good will, and prosperity. Yeah G, even you in your hard core, even you with your army brand and biceps, didn't you know? Pain is for. You, Pain is for the neighbor's stare when he licks his lips at your misfortune. Pain is for the misfortunate sleeping with cats just to stay warm. Pain is for the little girl when nothing could have changed the way he came and stayed till...Yes pain is for him too. But pain is still for you and me, for you and me next year when. But if it's not for you or you then probably neither is the morning after you thought this is it, I'm done. Cause it always comes, that sun and the blue and the night that tails another sunset. But oh the blue! Here it is, undone like green and yellow, melting pigments from the ducts of an eye. There's the true if you're wondering if pain is for you. It's not for everyone some tend to think. I think they've had the best of it and won't share with the rest of us that beautiful blue!
To Katie and Kim. Sometimes ya just gotta let it flow.
I will not pretend to know the depths of suffering that the human heart is capable of feeling. I have often wondered why pain? as many of us do. And the response to my question: a dark room with disjointed thoughts...silence...pain. The physical discomfort is almost a distraction to the mind's unaswered pleas. Still, it is better to cry out at the silent walls, to scream tears against the carpet, to wait for an answer in-between heaves. I have seen the opposite. I have seen the eyes blank, I have seen the mouth stiff, and the question irrelevant. I have seen mechanics with a paintbrush painting cogs as stars and a headlight for the sun. After they're done they pat one another on the back, call it a day, and wonder why they never make history. I have seen a heart eaten like another chicken leg, the bone tossed aside, to the dogs, the swine, the puppet master's crooked grin and his crooked knife, stained with yesterday's imperfection, leads to infection, an amputee, a refugee from the holiday promised with peace, good will, and prosperity. Yeah G, even you in your hard core, even you with your army brand and biceps, didn't you know? Pain is for. You, Pain is for the neighbor's stare when he licks his lips at your misfortune. Pain is for the misfortunate sleeping with cats just to stay warm. Pain is for the little girl when nothing could have changed the way he came and stayed till...Yes pain is for him too. But pain is still for you and me, for you and me next year when. But if it's not for you or you then probably neither is the morning after you thought this is it, I'm done. Cause it always comes, that sun and the blue and the night that tails another sunset. But oh the blue! Here it is, undone like green and yellow, melting pigments from the ducts of an eye. There's the true if you're wondering if pain is for you. It's not for everyone some tend to think. I think they've had the best of it and won't share with the rest of us that beautiful blue!
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Tornado's
I awoke from a dream recently during a short interval of sleep. In it I escaped a storm as great as any the eastern coast had seen. But its origins were not irregular weather patterns. Its origins existed in a basement room decorated with living flora and a wooden baby. A song began to play, mimicking the Light that is the One true God, and I knew instantly that a trap had been laid. A sloth-like woman rested near a window and was strangely connected to the happenings in the room. She spoke only once and her voice seemed to slow time, to disregard it. As I left the room, rejecting its curious pull to my own interest, the tornado's outside dissipated.
As I continue on my way, toward the mountains, I am grateful that those gray, spiraling winds existed in a realm only accessible to spirit beings. Although they are more difficult to spot, the fate of them has already been declared. They are defeated by an azure sky and the power of One who controls an army to end all armies. A feather floated into my path today. The thought occured to me, You're not alone. And isn't that the lie that seems to haunt most warriors? Sometimes we are asked to travel with a different company, an invisible company. And I am beginning to understand there are many flanking attacks that never touch us because of those to our left and our right and most importantly to our rear. Not only do we travel with them, often we are given the authority to command them. For the most part, my dreams have become like a road map. Something in the waking world might trigger a particular element from a recent or not so recent night message. In a way, it is a coded answer, a plan of action: listen to this truth, pray in this way, ignore this lie, watch for this attack. It is not always easy. But I am learning to respond more quickly and precisely. The test is easy: am I free or am I weighed down, discouraged? Usually the latter occurs when I have retreated. But our Commander is faithful to restore the banished ones.
So all I can do is pray this simple prayer. Lord, open my eyes to see the truth in battle. Set my eyes on You and remind me that You never change. You are Love, You are Peace. I am Your child; I am Your beloved; I am Your joy. Allow Your love to protect my judgments and actions. Secure my vision in love and illuminate the lies that are contrary to that love. Open my eyes to see Your heavenly host, to see You mighty in battle. And lead me to the quiet waters.
I awoke from a dream recently during a short interval of sleep. In it I escaped a storm as great as any the eastern coast had seen. But its origins were not irregular weather patterns. Its origins existed in a basement room decorated with living flora and a wooden baby. A song began to play, mimicking the Light that is the One true God, and I knew instantly that a trap had been laid. A sloth-like woman rested near a window and was strangely connected to the happenings in the room. She spoke only once and her voice seemed to slow time, to disregard it. As I left the room, rejecting its curious pull to my own interest, the tornado's outside dissipated.
As I continue on my way, toward the mountains, I am grateful that those gray, spiraling winds existed in a realm only accessible to spirit beings. Although they are more difficult to spot, the fate of them has already been declared. They are defeated by an azure sky and the power of One who controls an army to end all armies. A feather floated into my path today. The thought occured to me, You're not alone. And isn't that the lie that seems to haunt most warriors? Sometimes we are asked to travel with a different company, an invisible company. And I am beginning to understand there are many flanking attacks that never touch us because of those to our left and our right and most importantly to our rear. Not only do we travel with them, often we are given the authority to command them. For the most part, my dreams have become like a road map. Something in the waking world might trigger a particular element from a recent or not so recent night message. In a way, it is a coded answer, a plan of action: listen to this truth, pray in this way, ignore this lie, watch for this attack. It is not always easy. But I am learning to respond more quickly and precisely. The test is easy: am I free or am I weighed down, discouraged? Usually the latter occurs when I have retreated. But our Commander is faithful to restore the banished ones.
So all I can do is pray this simple prayer. Lord, open my eyes to see the truth in battle. Set my eyes on You and remind me that You never change. You are Love, You are Peace. I am Your child; I am Your beloved; I am Your joy. Allow Your love to protect my judgments and actions. Secure my vision in love and illuminate the lies that are contrary to that love. Open my eyes to see Your heavenly host, to see You mighty in battle. And lead me to the quiet waters.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
First Impressions
It is 5:30 am and I am resting from "romping with joy in the bookish dark." "I have been eating poetry." What a great line! Here's my snapping fingers to you Mark Strand. Well, if I had to describe the first hints of The Land, as if looking through binoculars, I would say its mountains are not to be rivaled. They form a crescent wall along the southern border and extend on either side far beyond my sight. But these mountains are not ominous or tipped with ice. Perhaps in the north. I suspect they were put there as great watchers, discerners of light and dark, protectors of the lowlands across the border. I am still a ways away from reaching their soft, green feet. But I like to watch them in return, wondering if there are eyes staring back from the hidden peaks.
There is a woman with me, younger than I, and with child. She possesses a wildness that even challenges the names history can provide. A wildness that transcends imagination and boldness of speech to become action and a slap in the face of tradition. I would like to consider myself daring, a risk taker, but in comparison to this young girl, my feats are still within acceptable parameters. The name of her unborn child means peace. I cannot help but ponder the implications of that name. He is due to come soon, and has been prepared by his mother's care for arrival into this world. Growing, waiting until maturity would insure that he could continue to live and breathe. If I meet a river at the foot of those mountains, I will call it Peace. It is a warrior's hidden armor, like Frodo's mithril. Sound, resilient, and able to steady an anxious heart. There when the enemy's clever jibe bypasses your parry; able to withstand multiple attacks all at once. I am glad the woman and her child are with me on my journey. For now, I'll tuck away the binoculars and rest awhile.
It is 5:30 am and I am resting from "romping with joy in the bookish dark." "I have been eating poetry." What a great line! Here's my snapping fingers to you Mark Strand. Well, if I had to describe the first hints of The Land, as if looking through binoculars, I would say its mountains are not to be rivaled. They form a crescent wall along the southern border and extend on either side far beyond my sight. But these mountains are not ominous or tipped with ice. Perhaps in the north. I suspect they were put there as great watchers, discerners of light and dark, protectors of the lowlands across the border. I am still a ways away from reaching their soft, green feet. But I like to watch them in return, wondering if there are eyes staring back from the hidden peaks.
There is a woman with me, younger than I, and with child. She possesses a wildness that even challenges the names history can provide. A wildness that transcends imagination and boldness of speech to become action and a slap in the face of tradition. I would like to consider myself daring, a risk taker, but in comparison to this young girl, my feats are still within acceptable parameters. The name of her unborn child means peace. I cannot help but ponder the implications of that name. He is due to come soon, and has been prepared by his mother's care for arrival into this world. Growing, waiting until maturity would insure that he could continue to live and breathe. If I meet a river at the foot of those mountains, I will call it Peace. It is a warrior's hidden armor, like Frodo's mithril. Sound, resilient, and able to steady an anxious heart. There when the enemy's clever jibe bypasses your parry; able to withstand multiple attacks all at once. I am glad the woman and her child are with me on my journey. For now, I'll tuck away the binoculars and rest awhile.
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