Billy Joel

Watch this.
DO IT!

You won't be disappointed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_XgQhMPeEQ&feature=player_embedded

All in a Day

Finger paint.
Sidewalk chalk.
Stories.
Soccer.
Scooters.
Tag.
Scraped hands
And nose,
Head,
Knees.
Barbie band-aids.
Princess band-aids.
Story time again.

Cup of Soul

Green tea with lemon grass and spearmint. What a delightful way to awaken to the world! The Tazo tea box encouraged me to contemplate "eternal mysteries" while drinking my tea. So what am I doing here? Let me take myself away and read Augustine, who is so very dedicated to contemplating divine mysteries.

Beautiful Antithesis

In my Great Books II class, we are studying Augustine's City of God. Although--I must confess--I sometimes find my thoughts wandering and my eyelids drooping while reading his lengthy [and wordy] work, there are some passages that make me clap hand to heart and read with breathless excitement.

"God would never have created any, I do not say angel, but even man, whose future wickedness He foreknew, unless He had equally known to what uses in behalf of the good He could turn him, thus embellishing the course of the ages, as it were an exquisite poem set off with antitheses...so the beauty of the course of this world is achieved by the opposition of contraries, arranged, as it were, by an eloquence not of words, but of things" (Augustine, City of God, page 361-2).

Struggle haunts every movement of humanity. Ever since the curse was spoken, it hangs darkly upon us, hardening the earth, injecting pain into childbirth. Yet this struggle--this fight of mankind--richly glorifies the power and dignity of the Lord. And it reminds that He is infinitely sovereign. Sovereign, and very much alive.

This world is not a clock that was set ticking, a clock that will eventually wind down and be forgotten. We are knit to our creator, and he is continuously weaving the tapestry. He has not become idle; he has not stopped creating. There are 353,015 births every day. 14, 709 babies are born each hour. 245 babies are born every minute of every day.* God is constantly creating, molding forming.

Not only is he creating, he's using. God is immanent: closely involved in our lives. All of the bad things that happen, he utilizes for his good purposes. Although we cannot understand it, everything is working for the good of those who love him. This pain is only the amplifier to eventual triumph.

It's a simple, painful, beautiful story, this story of life. And it's rendered all the lovelier by the pain that is so hideous in and of itself.

"For as the beauty of a picture is increased by well-managed shadows, so, to the eye that has skill to discern it, the universe is beautified even by sinners, though, considered by themselves, their deformity is a blemish" (Augstine, City of God, page 367).

Let us not miss the sunlight for the shadows.

*Worldwide Missions

No. More.

I would just like to announce--to scream it from the rafters--that I am VERY tired of being sick.

This morning I was awakened by 496 builders hammering in my head. I chased them away with two little pills, but they have since returned.

Those weren't the only pills I swallowed, either. There were seven in all: vitamins, minerals, antibiotics, probiotics, decongestants.

Of course, no one wants to hear me complain about being sick. But somehow complaining helps, so I send these bitter words out into cyberspace, my screams echoing off into the wilderness of the world wide web:

"I. DON'T. WANT. TO. BE. SICK. ANYMORE!"

Will I ever exercise again? Will I ever have energy again? Will I ever stop blowing my nose? If you have an answer, dear internet, please share, please do.

Dinner on the Drive

Freshly swept driveway

Smoke swirling, dipping, diving
Flowers stuck in cup
Benches, plates and forks
Sunlight, glinting on glass jars
Pineapple, tomatoes, chicken
Skewer sticks in honey jar
Sticky fingers, smacking tongues
Laughing faces, lowering sun
Dinner on the drive
With family, friends, and fun

A Prayer

Father, convict me of my sin, that I might know your grace. Show me the lengths of my damnation, that I might see the depths of your salvation. Bring me to thee "renouncing, condemning, loathing myself, but hoping in the grace that flows even to the chief of sinners" (Puritan prayer). It is not false humility, or a wallowing self-abasement that I seek, but the destruction of my pride. Show me how wicked I am, and how good, you.

Remind me daily of these words: "What Our Lord wants us to present Him is not goodness, not honesty, nor endeavor, but real, solid sin; that is all He can take from us. And what does He give us in return? Real, solid righteousness. But we must relinquish all pretense of being anything, all claim of being worthy of God's consideration" (Oswald Chambers).

Take my pretense, Lord. Take my trying. Take me to the foot of the Cross in tears, and raise me in your arms--triumphant, redeemed.