Fears of Spring

The sun is beginning to seep its gently insistent warmth into our bones. Shorts have ressurected from the sad graves of long-forgotten corners in our drawers. Freckles have once again made their unapolagetic presence known after months of hybernation. There is a lazy haziness about everyone--students and teachers alike; who could resist loitering a few minutes longer under the comforting rays of God's natural greenhouse?

To quote the bard: "Ah, there's the rub!" There are only a few things that I can truly say that I fear. Really, honestly fear. For your enjoyment, the following list has been provided:

-Bees (Not honeybees--wasps. I'm getting over this one. Slowly.)
-Darkness (Sometimes. This one always depends on circumstances.)
-Being alone (I have found that for the benefit of my mental health and general well-being, I should avoid aloneness as much as possible.)

Now for the killer:

-Apathy. Dullness. Luke-warmness. Lack of inspiration. Lack of passion. Lack of motivation. Lack of joy. Lack of God.

This is my ultimate and extreme fear. I fear boredom and sulleness. My breath catches in my chest in the utter pain of frustration at the mere thought of such a dreadful state of being. God has not called me to be dull, lifeless, boring. God has made me vibrant, and I will grow more so every day of my life-- so help me God.

Spring has brought on an epidemic of restless non-productivity. The prime topic of conversation among students at WCC is as follows:

-Summer plans, and oh how dreadfully unmotivated I have become academically.

People are bemoaning their lack of dedication during this infuriatingly beautiful season. We alternate between bubbly, upbeat playfulness during weekends and supposed "study time," and complete dulness in the classroom. Scores of good folks are taken to sun-bathing--I included. We say to ourselves, "I'll sit out in the sun and do some homework for a while."

Somehow it just doesn't happen that way. As soon as the seat of my pants hit turf, I'm lost. Taken captive by the distracting beauty surrounding me. Who can read their Poly-Sci textbook when weighted down by the softly suffocating, intoxicating loveliness of nature?

But then guilt inevitably comes. Like the grim reaper he persists in wounding us with much-needed, enlivening conviction. The moment of reckoning comes like a sweet, however painful, rebirth. Thank God He does not leave us wandering restlessly with every breeze that blows for too long. He steps in and severs unhealthy, maddening, deadening complacency from our wayward hearts.

Perhaps this season of frustration serves as a prod to wake us up to the realization of our humanity once again. This trial too shall pass, and when it does it shall leave behind a more beautiful, more vibrant me behind.

Oh Brighter Lord!

Ever brighter I shall grow--
Brighter still till all of me is aglow.
Who can abide the sullen dullness of sin,
When the light of His glorious person calls you in?

Closer to His arms I shall fly--
Till all else fades in my besotted eye.
His charms have wooed me sweetly,
I can do none other than fly to Him fleetly.

Always wrapped in His cloak I shall hide--
Till all covered and hidden is my pitiful pride.
All you can see of me,
Is the glory of Christ reflected and free.

Sanctified evermore, I shall be--
Till in the rapture of glory, His faithful face I see.
No more to chasten shall He appear,
Rather to glory in the now perfected bride who has shed all her fear.

My dearest

What I have to say has already been said beautifully by my big brother in Bosnia. Thank you Nathan for your blessedly concise, heartfelt words. Oh how I love you!

Like my brother, I love my Mother. She is my role-model, my confidant, my counselor, my comforter, my friend. She possesses wisdom by many, many more years of experience than I. She has learned to love each of her children as the individuals they are. She loves them each the same, and each differently. She stretches herself beyond the limits of human possibility. She abandons her human tendency to serve her own needs in favor of serving ours instead. Who am I ever to judge her? Who am I ever to rebuke her? I, who am so frail, so brittle, so very hard to bend. She is the epitome of flexibility and grace. God bless her as we do. Or rather, may we bless her as God will surely do. And has. And does. Amen.

Praise God that His wisdom saw it fitting to create mothers. He didn't have to. But He did nevertheless.

Jounal entry

April 23, 2006
Sunday
1:12 p.m.

Not a cloud remains to dare try obscuring the view. The "vista." Their season of triumph has passed and they now retreat--acknowledging defeat. Our Creator has once again allowed dear Pan to enter the stage of our charmed lives. Our hearts are full now. His grace has filled them with joy that exceeds all limits. His majestic mountain stands as ever, the symbol of veracity. The symbol of faithfulness. God could not have manifested his nature more clearly than in the ever-present mountain. The mountain that changes never. Beside it, Baker's sisters gaze, as lovely as ever in their sweet simplicity, upon our valley here below. They seem to smile on us, challenging our petty worries and squabbles, with all-knowing, quiet joy. They are so still. Yet they are bursting with vitality nevertheless. I wonder now, whether they can resist just dancing a little bit. Our valley is humming with the innocent, wondrous activity of Spring. Sometimes in my fanciful mind, I wonder if perhaps the mountains are skipping with the pure joy of it all, each time I look away. Perhaps if I look long enough, they will not be able to bear the stillness, and begin to dance, despiting my curiously impertinent gaze.

Bless the Lord, Oh my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name!

I am beautiful!

"I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay--and I pity any girl who isn't meee toooooday..." -Maria

Well. So I suppose I owe you all a sufficiently reassuring explanation for my oddity of a title. Never fear, I shall oblige. Perhaps not quite so fully as you would like, or with so great abandon as you would wish.

Congratulate me! For as of Tuesday, 20 April, 2006, I have suddenly, instantaneously, and quite miraculously, become beautiful, unique, quite bright, and very pious. That is, I am all these things if indeed the word of charming seventeen-year-old gentlemen in general may be given credibility. Enough said. Let me assure you all that I hardly attribute all these scintillating qualities to myself.

Fret not, this too shall pass. As too, shall the young gentleman in question, once I turn him down with as much kindness and tact as I can muster.

Come see the grand opree!

Well! Are you ready for some prime entertainment? Come see me perform along with Anna in the musical, "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers." We are merely dancing and singing in the chorus, however the entire show is sure to be a smash! Do join us won't you?

Just go to this cite and get the scoop! Don't forget to order tickets if you want a relatively good seat. Otherwise you may be able to buy tickets at the door and aquire some acceptable, but not so prime positions. I can't wait to see y'all there!

Who are you waiting for?

Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and our shield. For our heart shall rejoice in Him, Because we have trusted in His holy name. Let Your mercy, O Lord, be upon us, just as we hope in You. Psalm 33:20-22

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I do hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning--I say more than those who watch for the morning.
Psalm 130:5,6

So. Who are you waiting for? Oh my dear sisters, I could probably make an educated guess with regards to your day-dreams on this topic. If they are anything like my own that is. He wears armour that gleams in the sunlight as he rides toward your waiting and outstretched arms on his milk-white steed. Perhaps he will swoop down from the magnificent animal's back and kneel at your feet, begging for the favor simply to kiss your fair fingertips.

I delight in day-dreams, fantasies, pink clouds and the like. What true girl hasn't at one time? However, somehow I think there must be something better for me to accomplish in this world than elaborately spun yarns concerning my beloved Prince Charming. Let's face it, far too often, we daughters of God lose our vision for His glory in masses of billowing pink clouds. Ever-so-beautiful pink clouds, but clouds nonetheless. You know them: big, puffy, foggy, muddlingly confusing, disorienting, pink fluff.

God says, "wait for Me," not "wait for the dude on the white horse, he's totally hot." God says, "delight yourself also in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." Emphasis on "delight yourself...in the Lord." What must it be like to truly delight in the Lord? It sounds to be a state of being so very far beyond my knowledge or ability to achieve. Yet God commands it. It is a glorious imperitive, one that I desire to fulfill, however unattainable it may seem.

God says through David, "My soul waits for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning." Have I ever desired God so intensly that I would wait for Him more than for the relieving pink of a morning sky after a sleepless night? Have you? Prince Charming may not be a reality for you right now. He isn't a reality for me. God is. He always has been, He always will be. God is for always.

The question of college

To go or not to go...

...that seems to be the question among many Christians today. Should Christian youth, seeking to serve God and know His will for their lives, even consider attending universities in this corrupted, secular world? I have been running into this question repeatedly, and I think it is one that needs to be addressed by all. My decision to post on this subject was aided when I came across a post by a young woman named Meg whose aquaintance I have never had the pleasure of making! Visit her post here to read my inspiration. You will find it dated Tuesday, January 24, 2006.

I am a student at Whatcom Community College. I am attending this school because I believe God would have me excell in knowledge and the ability to discern truth, not to mention the ability to communicate effectively. College seemed to me to be the most logical place for a person such as I--on the verge of exiting the academic realm (if it is permissable to use such lofty terms for high school)--to pursue these goals.

The realization that college certainly in not for everyone, and that many have successfully lived productive, God-honoring lives without it, has made itself clear to me. However, I would like to challenge those persons who are afraid to set foot in the door of a college classroom for fear of contamination to rethink their stance. Many seem afraid that to analyze, consider, and learn the beliefs of others will cause them to be confused about their own--perhaps even cause them to abandon their own. I reply: this is a fearful and, dare I say it, lazy attitude. If competency among Christian youth in the area of apologetics is lacking, then perhaps we should be focusing inward at our own spiritual dullness. Istead of shutting ourselves off from the world, perhaps we should be prying the bushel from off the top of the light, stoking the flame into renewed brightness, and showing it for all the world to see.

Speaking of lights: college for me is a daily mental, and spiritual excersize in doing just that--shining my light. College to me is not a place of stagnant, shortsighted acceptance of all things socially acceptable. College is not to me a time of falling away, but a time of strengthening. How can one be "in the world, but not of the world" if one refuses to confront the world? All my life I have lived in a wonderful, nurturing, Christian atmosphere. I have had a Christian home, with a Godly mother who undertook my early education. I have had a strong, Bible-believing church, and of course, Christian friends. Now, while still reserving the comfort, shelter, and guidance of these strongholds, I have ventured out into "the great beyond." At last, I am challenged to manifest Christ as I have never been challenged before. I ask myself the question daily, "Do they see Christ in me? How am I different from my classmates, instructors, peers?"

I realize that my arguments thus far have been based around my own personal fallible experience. I also know for a certainty that many who read this will have very different stories to tell regarding this subject. However, I believe that college is in many respects, a truly missunderstood concept among devout people. I merely seek to incite discussion. Therefore, do not hesitate to make your voice heard!

As a commentator on the previously mentioned blog posting explained,

"I think attending college can also be a means to strengthen our faith, and it gives us an opportunity to realize why we believe what it is that we believe. I'm not saying we need to purposefully surround ourselves with temptations on all sides, but we need to know where we stand. We are told to be in the world yet not of it, and I think a lot of times Christians shut themselves off so much from the world, to the point where they and their children become naive about it's realities. At the same time we are called to be light, but how can we let our light shine if we shut ourselves up all the time? This is just a thought, but maybe part of the reason college campuses are so anti-Christian is because we haven't done our part in getting out and speaking out? Of course if we withdraw compeletely from the college campus, it is going to be swimming in a swamp of ugly, worldy ideas with no answers and no direction."

Cassie--this may sound cliche, sorry--you literaly repeated some of the exact points I made when discussing this issue with a friend no more than three days ago! Thank you for your concise eloquence!

New York charm

Thanks for sending the pictures Sarah...

"...and they all lived happily ever after, as it were."

*************************

The Shades Show

"Hi guys! Welcome to the Shades Show!"

"Wanna sing a song, Katie?"

"'L' is for the way you look at me...'O' is for the only one I see..."

"Tune in next time for the Shades Show on the Super Shades Network!"

The Second Love

This was an assigned poem for my Literature--I thought it turned out splendidly actually. I said what I meant to say, in the way I meant to say it. We were required to present our poems in class on Tuesday. Needless to say, that experience was positively thrilling. (!!!)

P.S. It isn't suppose to ryhm, just in case you were wondering. It is a "list poem."

The Second Love

The strains of “Beautiful Dreamer” are floating down the alley, played by an amateur violinist.

Debussy is dancing his way across the ivories in the concert hall on Main.

The eloquent echoes of forefathers long passed are ringing in my ears, and “Give me liberty, or give me death!” in all its thunder, continues to resonate through all of our souls.

Life tastes sweet to me here on Liberty Street.

In the harbor a lady stands, stately and majestic in her glory, she is ushering in the boats of a host of foreign searchers, searchers who must find their hearts desire.

Black, white, red, yellow—they all come with vision, and are welcomed by the lady’s beacon of glory, and book of truth.

Far beyond human knowledge was a land yet untried, yet untamed—in the imagination of men’s hearts it was bursting with blessings unbounded.

The call of the unknown became irresistible to the searcher—he must continue on in boldness of purpose—or die in restless curiosity.

The deafening sound of leave-taking rose up in the East; westward ho, the forty-niners go, on to the bitter brightness of the coast.

What can be said of these relentless wanderers?

What is this passion so strong as to tear them away from every warm hearth of familiarity?

It is that which continues to urge our feet forward, not now in conquest, but in a quest born of the freedom fires in our veins,

It is that status as the guardian of liberty that has led infantry to foreign fields of bloody battle, there to fight for freedom with every breath breathed.

It was by that same spirit that the dreadful swastika was destroyed in fire and brimstone.

It was by that same spirit that the Saddam statue fell.

And it is by that same spirit that we continue on, here in the land of the free, living out our lives as conscience dictates.

Up the marble steps go my eager feet; up the steps and through the foyer, they lead me, finally coming to rest as I settle in a mahogany bench.

There is a window here, the panes of which are colored and collected into a kaleidoscope of brilliance; the form of a lamb is visible in its pattern, and my eyes trace its fleece lovingly.

The organ swells, the people sing praise to the peak of a loud crescendo—and then all is quiet.

The preacher begins with a prayer, and all present have faith that the Lord of all is there.

The people have no fear of penalty or persecution—that which their forebears have borne.

They live in a land where faith is honored, and not punished, is worn proudly, and not hidden in the darkness of midnight masses.

Here is the haven where no tyrant may penetrate.

Here is the haven where dreamers dream unstintingly, and with greater abandon then ever elsewhere.

Out of love and devotion was this haven born.

Out of faith and fealty to the Master was it established.

So it is that by the workings of the first love has the second been given life.

My soul comprehends that suppressed, yet sacred phrase, “one nation under God.”

This is the second love, offspring of the holy first.

This is the first love made manifest—that firm foundation upon which this haven was built—thus the first love gives birth, then life, and then growth forevermore to that second love, so precious.

Musings on a midnight shuttle-bus

~The Something Chronicles~
By Bekaboo, Markie, and most recently, Annabell.

Bekaboo: I am going to tell you a story my dear boy--one which surely must be told.

Once upon a time, there was a Something. This something was not your average, ordinary something. On the contrary, he was as different as he could be. Thus he was sufficiently diverse for your average, everyday human. However, I probably shouldn't have mentioned humans, for they are relatively rare in the world of Somethings and therefore do not enter this story very much.

As I was saying, this Something was quite different from all the other Somethings in his neighborhood. As a matter of fact, he was down-right anomalous. He stood a full twelve inches in his socks, and was almost as wide as he was tall.

Markie: Before you stop and just assume that this Something was Spongebob Squarepants, be assured that he was nothing of the sort. On the contrary, most who have caught a rare glimps of him have reported mistaking him for Humpty Dumpty. Indeed though, for as much as he resembled other special and famous Somethings, such as Squarepants and Dumpty, his uniqueness rested not in anything so obvious as his size and shape.

Bekaboo: On the day of this Something's birth, his mother (who was a very nice, upstanding sort of Something to be sure) finished weaving the Trans-Tower Tapestry. This truly was a momentous day, for this very nice, upstanding Something had been weaving the Trans-Tower Tapestry every day since her tenth birthday.

Markie: In that first year of her work, she began with a single yellow strand which, oddly enough, she had pulled from the fringe of her neighbor's Something-shawl. Before her Something-son's eleventh birthday she had proceeded to make a curious pattern, extending into a dramatic oval around her center yellow thread. By the time our hero turned twenty-one, the Trans-Tower Tapestry was the best-kept secret in Somethity, their hometown.

Bekaboo: A secret I say, because no ordinary Something eye could pierce the shroud of pure, clear, translucent fog surrounding the TT Tapestry. Thus, its beauty was withheld from the citizens of Somethity, and all went about their pleasant Something lives, untouched by this secret. For what a Something does not know cannot hurt them--or so "they" say.

It had long been rumored among the great seers of the surrounding region (which the Somethings called Thingamy) that some wonderful and even perhaps, fantastical force of good held Thingamy in a perpetual state of content and goodwill.

Annabell: This wonderful state of harmony began right about the time that the TT Tapestry began to be woven in all its intricacy. Nobody knew why or how this feeling of peace began or how it was maintained--but our hero Something had a suspicion that the weaving had Something to do with it.

Picture of the Year

The Katie and I (will you check out that puss)

Martin

Today I watched as young man carried out his tasks on the velvet lawn of a local
business.
In his hands he held a modern tool of convenience--a weed whip is what
they call it.
Meticulously, he trimmed around the edges of the grass, and as he
did so a strange thing occured.
No longer was the industrious young man grasping
the fuel-run machine.
It had quite simply transformed into the rustic-but-comely
form of a scythe.
The gardener was swinging its blade smoothly across the surface of the unruly ground.
The grass now had lost its unnaturally smooth finish, it grew with a look of greater wildness--yet still with an aura of civilization and dignity.
The man by now had changed considerably as well.
The hoody that had formerly ensconsed him was now replaced with a rough cotton shirt overlaid by a shabby overcoat.
He seemed to have aged approximately ten years, and yet his eyes appeared a good deal brighter, and more lively to be sure.
I have since decided that it must have been Martin.
His look was so very wholesome that you couldn't help liking him from the start. And that is just precisely how I always knew Martin would be.
So there you have it.
It certainly was him, and there is an end on it.

"Over the ground lies a mantle of white..."

Oh joy!

Last night the first bold snowflakes flew with determination into my unsuspecting face as I exited 1st Christian Reformed Church. I was so impressed by the vigor of their appearance that I was struck with a sense of the mere joyfulness of the occasion.

This morning I peeked out my still dark window to discover that a mantle of white was indeed lying over the ground! It is beautiful, the quarter is almost over, and I am one very happy girl.

The very first snow of the season. Oh let it snow! And it isn't December quite yet either. ¡Es mui bonita!

"Sleigh bells ring! Are you listening--in the lane the snow is glistening, its a beautiful sight, we're happy tonight..."

this little girl

"Toy land, toy land,
Little girl and boy land,
Once you cross its borders
You may never return again."

Today is my birthday. Today I am eighteen...and somehow, I am sad. But also glad. Now at last I am no longer play-acting. Could it be? Am I really grown up? I think I have been playing at woman-hood all my life--but I never knew it. Sweet sixteen is now so far away, so very long ago. Some voice within me speaks--whispering urgently to me, it says, "Stop, cherish, remember!" It tells me that now is the time. It is time to reflect, time to record. I must not forget--I must remember this day, this age, this feeling. For it will never return. It cannot. For all children must grow up--that is the tragedy of it...

...and the beauty.

Trusting

Today is the day. At 2:45 on the dot, I will be sitting down to an hour long mid-term exam in my Spanish classroom. In fact, I should be studying for it now. I just had to ask for some support before I go for it. At this point I'll be happy to get a C. But anything higher will be much appreciated. Wait a minute, sounds like I'm puting in an order to a catalogue company!

Just pray if you please. If you happen to think of me, just pray. One truth that has really come to bear upon me in the past weeks: no matter how long and hard I study, no matter how hard I try in the "hour of trial", I would always fail if it weren't God who was allowing my brain to work in a sufficiently logical and clear manner. If He wasn't calming my anxiety every time I sit down to an exam, I would be on the verge of depression by this point. He's teaching me to trust Him, like I've never had to trust Him before. Praise the Lord!

Today will be a momentous challenge, so please pray with me. God will hear, and work all things to His glory and my good. That's more than I could ever hope for otherwise.

Thank you my friends, and go with God!

storytelling~the lost legacy

Exerpt from a recent essay:

With books beginning to record the old tales, and now television and movies having become the primary source of entertainment, storytelling has become somewhat of a lost art. But in my imagination, I can still hear the lyric sound of the old peddler's melodic voice, as it rose and fell on the tide of heroic deeds, terrible tragedies, and a joyful "happily ever after"...

...One member of the family reads, and others act as the listening audience. Let us zoom in as it were to the brain of a child as he is sitting in rapt attention to his mother's voice. We will call him Max. There is a constant frenzy of activity as Max establishes the scene in his minds eye. Each character is formulated, and to a certain extent created masterfully as the lively sound of his mother's voice relates dialogue, descriptions, and narrative. Her voice at times is hushed to a mere whisper as great and marvelous wonders are communicated. Her eye beomes sparked with fire as she dives into a tirade of heated dialogue, and Max's heart drops in dread--for those same beloved eyes have grown dull with remorse as the hero is broken in sadness. At last, as the final triumphant verbal trumpet has been sounded, the leather cover is closed softly. Max, heaving a deep sigh of contentment, leaves his former post at his mother's feet, stands, stretches, then wraps dovout arms around her neck, and says cheerily, "G'night mummy."

Please pardon the lack of context--most of you are no doubt scratching your heads, pulling your ears, and commiting all sorts of other horrid outrages. I accept the blame for this utterly and completely. The above passages are simply two from my most recent essay for English 101, and they happen to be very dear to my heart. I am rather proud of them you see.

Psalter Hymnal #394

Spirit of God, dwell thou within my heart;
Wean it from earth, through all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as thou art,
And make me love Thee as I ought to love.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay,
No angel visitant, no opening skies;
But take the dimness of my soul away.

Didst Thou not bid us love Thee, God and King?
All, all Thine own: soul, heart, and strength, and mind.
I see the cross--there teach my heart to cling;
O let me seek Thee and O let me find!

Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear;
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh;
Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.

Teach me to love Thee as Thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all my frame--
The baptism of the heaven-descended Dove;
My heart an altar, and Thy love the flame.

~George Croly, 1854

I would give almost anything to have been the author of this transcendant poem. I cannot help but feel that it was written for me exclusively--but then there are many about which I feel the same. Lord, "take the dimness of my soul away"! "Wean it [my heart] from earth...one holy passion filling all my frame...my heart an altar, and Thy love the flame"!

Big woman on campus? (Haha)

Hola!

As of Monday, I am officially, a college miss. Thus I retain the envyable title of "freckle-faced, romantic school-girl." I can't believe that this is my fourth day of classes, and I have not as yet made any mention of this momentous happening! People will begin to wonder about me...

I am adjusting to college life very nicely I think. Although, I can't be certain of seeing anyone I know on any given day, so sometimes its a bit lonely at lunch time. My ever-so-loyal best friends were not able to accompany me in this new phase, therefore I "am a lone reed". (Meg Ryan, You've Got Mail) =)

English 101 challenges me--that's good.
Spanish 101 confuses me--that's bad. (no comprendo)
History 103 ...makes the joints in my right hand hurt very much.

God is being faithful as I knew He would be. His mercies are truly new each morning! I would never have been brave enough for college without Him. So...PTL!

Goodness!

Life is good.

Now, I know how debatable that statement is, but I truly have a firm belief in the goodness of life. Now I realize that there is "none good, no not one", and I also am aware that this world is full of sin and evil. I am made more aware of that tragic fact every day of my life as I struggle against temptation. I don't have to mention the sorts of things you hear every time you turn on the news.

My validation, my proof, my confidence that life is good stems from one unbreakable truth:

God is good. He is the essence of "good". He is the epitome of righteousness, holiness, justice, love. He is the only one who possesses these attributes perfectly.

Because He is good, he created a good world. And it is still good, even after the taint of sin. The rain still falls in torrents, the sun still dazzles with every rise and set, the moon is still romantic as it bathes us in silver light. If that is not sufficient proof, consider this:

The beauty of Christian fellowship as we gather for worship each Sunday, relationships full of love and commitment, the ability of the human mind to study, to learn, to excel, the cry of a new-born child into this world, honest labor, the glory of the seasons, the alarm clock that awakens you insistantly each morning, food, individuality, humor that sends you to the floor gasping for air, the richness of time spent in God's Word, times when we pour out our souls to Him in the closet...I could continue this list all day...

All of these things are good, and beautiful, and we revel in the rich joy of it all every day of our blessed lives. And there is one reason for it all. God gave us these things to show us His goodness. God created man to enjoy Him. And in all these things we ought to be recognising that fact. We ought to be enjoying Him. This is such a glorious thought, could it get any better? But it does.

I heard an illustration taken from Spurgeon this summer, my newest brother used it in a sermon. No doubt I am paraphrasing:

An old, pitiful, pauper of a woman, huddled in a corner with a little crust of bread, and she is saying rapturously, "I have Christ, and all this too!" That is enjoying God. And if we don't say that after surveying all the richness of our lives (see above), we're some poor excuse for Christians. We have Christ, because His love is so great, that He gave Himself up so that He could save this world full of base, cruel-hearted people (us). This is so glorious!

In view of all these things, it needs to be said, that our good lives should be reminding us hourly of the love of Christ, of His goodness, and consequently we can enjoy Him in everything. You know as in, "Hallelujah!". We have Christ, and all this too. Ayyymen!!

This is so exciting, it fuels my life, my motivation, me!

New York Chronicle VI (P.S. as it were)

I have been remiss in relating to you one of the most thrilling, and momentous happenings of my sojourn in New York, and therefore I must beg the forgiveness of the several people from whom I have recieved complaints. Yes, I know that I have surprised you. After all, this blog has been entirely taken over in the past months with the business of relating my New York experiences. How could I possibly have more to say? Brace yourselves.

I began Chronicle number IV with every intention of mentioning this little trifle--but somehow managed to become carried away on the tide of my delight in expressing so many other things. I will now do so:

Manhattan. Yes the very same city the wonders of which so many singers have sung, so many writers have written. It is all that you have heard--and much, much more. In the harbour, a great lady stands, the simble of our liberty, watching in proud silence the thriving business of The City. She seems a guard of sorts--but a defiant one, daring any to try and extinguish the flaming torch in her hand. A massive bronze bull is in the square on Wall Street. Intimidating to say the least. Little Italy is enchanting--there are resturants everywhere, and they almost always spill out onto the sidewalk. China Town is a bit of a shock, suddenly signs are written in Chinese characters, and you feel as if you just stepped into downtown Hong Kong. The Brooklyn Bridge has a special place in my heart. Built at the turn of the last century, its great, slightly pointed arches and sweeping lines are simply exquisite.

Now, let us pause for a moment as I take a deep breath.

There is one thing I wanted to do. There is one thing I wanted to do very, very much. I went to see a Broadway show. No. I went to see a Broadway Musical! Never did I dream that I would be given such a grand opportunity--but there it is, my program sitting demurely on my dresser at this very moment to bear witness that it truly did happen. A dear lady with a fabulous New York accent (one of the elders wives), purchased tickets for Sarah and I when she discovered towards the end of my stay that I enjoyed theatre. We took the train into the city and dissembarked at Penn Station. As we emerged from the semi-dim depot and up into the light of day, my first sight was tall buildings. Everywhere. Very tall buildings. I couldn't keep the smile of delight from stretching my face. We walked to Broadway, the stretch of street that harbors many historic theatres, and made our way to the entrance of the New Amsterdam Theatre. Very historic. Extreemly breathtaking. We walked through the long foyer, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the stunning portraits that lined both walls. Picture after picture of famous stage entertainers of the past greeted my reverent gaze. Wonder piled upon wonder as at last I entered the theatre itself. The sight that greeted my eyes was simply stunning. Everywhere I looked I saw frescos, carvings, paintings--the walls and ceiling were covered with them. When I got over my initial amazement, I was able to notice a large balcony, an even larger pit, and several boxes on each side. Someday I'll get a box seat. As it was, Mrs. Warnock had aquired for us third row seats on the left side. Outragiously wonderful.

The show was the hit musical, "The Lion King". Lets just say, I'm spoiled for life. I'll never be able to appreciate a high school production in quite the same way. *Ahem* It was world class. And brilliant, and one of the most enjoyable of any trivial experience I have ever had. The singing was out of this world, as was the dancing, acting, etc. The actors actually traveled to Africa to study how to move like animals. I thought initially that I might see a guy in a lion suit running around stage roaring idiotically. I couldn't have been more wrong. It was way beyond what I could ever have imagined. I wish somehow I could get inside your minds and show it to you like a slide show. There is really no way to communicate such a phenominon.

I hope that in some way you may have caught a glimmering of the glory of this experience. If you did then perhaps there is hope for me as a writer after all. Loves!