Well, it's November. I can hardly believe it. No, I can't hardly believe it. I really can't believe it. Where did the year go? Next month is Christmas? Just yesterday was October 1st. What is this sorcery? Well, it's here I suppose and that's what counts! It's November, month 6; month of Faith. Good starfish.
October was fun, you guys. I know I didn't post much (okay, not anything), about the self-discipline thing. But trust me, I got up for school on time, have gotten the Little Office back into my schedule, said goodbye to texting and doing homework at the same time, and controlled the intake of Halloween candy! I know. So hardcore. Not to mention I'm learning how to balance school and family with the very special Nathan. It's been interesting, but I'm learning and balancing everything out!
So now, it's November, the month of Faith. I'm pretty excited, but nervous, too. School's been stressful, as have money, illness, and lack of sleep, but I know that my Mother is here to watch over me, and God has a plan. So that's what this month is about. The constant belief that everything's going to be alright.
Hey, and remember the giraffe? Here's a brief continuation: So, the girl took the boy to Mass for the first time. And he loved it.
God is good.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Friday, November 2, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Stars
I heard something, or read it, perhaps, recently, about the stars. I don't remember might have said it or where I might have read it, but I did. And that's what matters.
It said this:
God wants you to look at Him the way you look in awe at the stars in the night sky.
I don't know about you, but I think that's pretty powerful. I mean legit powerful. Ever noticed how you look at the night sky? At the stars? The moon? Ever wonder why God placed that star right there and why that star is brighter than that one and why some are apart of constellations and some are not? You know that feeling of pure awe and wonder? That admiration of the stars' beautiful simplicity?
Last night, we were taking the very special Nathan home. He asked if we could take a detour to an old park in practically the middle of nowhere. My chaperon, the wonderful Mom, agreed. Nathan took me down a path that led through the woods, and up through the canopy of the trees, lo and behold, were the stars! It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Definitely the most romantic night ever.
But the stars, gosh. The stars. It was dark and the country and the sky was perfectly clear. They were so bright. I hadn't seen stars like that in a long time. I stood in awe. They were beautiful. They were incomprehensibly beautiful. They were perfect.
If we can look at the stars and be so in awe we cannot speak, what must it be like to see God? How wonderful must He be? How incomprehensibly beautiful and perfect?
He must love us a heck of a lot to give us the stars, because in giving us the stars, He gave us a glimpse of Himself.
I like to put pictures in posts, but I know I will not find a picture that expresses the beauty even close to the real thing. Instead I'm giving you an order (yes, I know. The odd teenager hiding behind her keyboard is ordering her readers about): Go outside tonight (or some night) and look at the stars.
It said this:
God wants you to look at Him the way you look in awe at the stars in the night sky.
I don't know about you, but I think that's pretty powerful. I mean legit powerful. Ever noticed how you look at the night sky? At the stars? The moon? Ever wonder why God placed that star right there and why that star is brighter than that one and why some are apart of constellations and some are not? You know that feeling of pure awe and wonder? That admiration of the stars' beautiful simplicity?
Last night, we were taking the very special Nathan home. He asked if we could take a detour to an old park in practically the middle of nowhere. My chaperon, the wonderful Mom, agreed. Nathan took me down a path that led through the woods, and up through the canopy of the trees, lo and behold, were the stars! It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Definitely the most romantic night ever.
But the stars, gosh. The stars. It was dark and the country and the sky was perfectly clear. They were so bright. I hadn't seen stars like that in a long time. I stood in awe. They were beautiful. They were incomprehensibly beautiful. They were perfect.
If we can look at the stars and be so in awe we cannot speak, what must it be like to see God? How wonderful must He be? How incomprehensibly beautiful and perfect?
He must love us a heck of a lot to give us the stars, because in giving us the stars, He gave us a glimpse of Himself.
I like to put pictures in posts, but I know I will not find a picture that expresses the beauty even close to the real thing. Instead I'm giving you an order (yes, I know. The odd teenager hiding behind her keyboard is ordering her readers about): Go outside tonight (or some night) and look at the stars.
Friday, October 12, 2012
The Lighthouse Keeper
I'd like to tell you guys a story.
I know. Another story. There have been lots of those recently, I suppose. Oh well.
Think about a lighthouse. You know in the top of the lighthouse that area where the person man's the light? Well, he can look out and see everything. He looks out, shining his light. He sees everything. He seas the ocean, all the waves and the foam; he sees the rocks, waves crashing over them, birds landing on them; he sees the sand, coming in and out with the tide, swallowing the feet of innocent beach-walkers; he sees the beach walkers and the children; he sees the dolphins and the fish and the birds and the turtles and shrimp and crabs and reeds and sand spurs and bugs and sea shells. He sees the storm clouds when they're days away, and through the storm he sees the sun, even if no one else can see it. He sees everything.
A storm comes along. The beach walkers and their children scramble around in fear. The birds squeak and squawk. The critters of the sea bury into the sand and the fish swim all around trying to find somewhere safe. There is general panic everywhere. Except for the man in the lighthouse. He is not afraid. He shines his light and tries to show everyone that the lighthouse is safe and they can stay there. He shines his light and tries to tell them that's going to be okay. But they don't listen. They can't see the light. They're so afraid of the storm above them that they refuse to look up. They keep their eyes downcast. They are afraid.
Sometimes people do look up. The light hurts and it's overwhelming, and some shrink away, going back to their panic. But some continue to look, and some adjust to the light and follow it to the lighthouse. These brave souls are the ones that find the lighthouse keeper. They are given blankets and dry clothes and hot chocolate with marshmallows to warm themselves.The lighthouse keeper tells them stories. Stories of how long he's tried to get them to find him. Stories of the people that came. Stories of the people that didn't. Even stories of the people who came, and then left.
The people in the lighthouse vow never to leave. They vow to stay forever within the safety of the lighthouse's light; they vow to stay near the keeper of the lighthouse. Some of them keep their promises. But some see the storm clear away outside, but cannot see far enough to see the storm clouds just around the corner.
The people that stay in the lighthouse are safe forever. They love the lighthouse keeper. They never have to worry about the storms or the cold or the fear ever again. They are home.
Let's go home to the lighthouse.
The people in the lighthouse vow never to leave. They vow to stay forever within the safety of the lighthouse's light; they vow to stay near the keeper of the lighthouse. Some of them keep their promises. But some see the storm clear away outside, but cannot see far enough to see the storm clouds just around the corner.
The people that stay in the lighthouse are safe forever. They love the lighthouse keeper. They never have to worry about the storms or the cold or the fear ever again. They are home.
Let's go home to the lighthouse.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
The Tenor and The Soprano
I want to tell you a story. It's a very nice story, actually.
It starts in a chorus room. Imagine this. It's the beginning of a new school year. It's far enough into the year that seats and voice parts have been assigned, but most everyone knows only themselves. Imagine a girl, a soprano, sitting right next to the tenors. Imagine a boy, a tenor, sitting right next to the sopranos. The year goes on. People learn their neighbors. The tenor talks to the soprano. The soprano talks to the tenor. They become friends.
The tenor is one of six guys in the classroom. In his voice people hear the echo of a speech impediment. Sometimes people mention it. The soprano sticks up for him. The tenor comes to realize that she is the one.
He waits a year for her. School separates them. They come back and have the same lunch period. The tenor sits with the soprano, who would have been sitting utterly alone otherwise. They begin to talk again. They talk like the use to.
I'm going to cut to the chase. Mainly because my sister wants to get on the computer.
The tenor and the soprano become a duet. It's one of the happiest periods in the soprano's life. She feels like the luckiest girl in the world.The soprano thanks God everyday for the tenor. Neither of them are perfect. But both of them are good for each other, and so now they are together.
This story is incomplete. Only time will tell what the next chapter will hold. But for now, enjoy this picture of a giraffe.
It starts in a chorus room. Imagine this. It's the beginning of a new school year. It's far enough into the year that seats and voice parts have been assigned, but most everyone knows only themselves. Imagine a girl, a soprano, sitting right next to the tenors. Imagine a boy, a tenor, sitting right next to the sopranos. The year goes on. People learn their neighbors. The tenor talks to the soprano. The soprano talks to the tenor. They become friends.
The tenor is one of six guys in the classroom. In his voice people hear the echo of a speech impediment. Sometimes people mention it. The soprano sticks up for him. The tenor comes to realize that she is the one.
He waits a year for her. School separates them. They come back and have the same lunch period. The tenor sits with the soprano, who would have been sitting utterly alone otherwise. They begin to talk again. They talk like the use to.
I'm going to cut to the chase. Mainly because my sister wants to get on the computer.
The tenor and the soprano become a duet. It's one of the happiest periods in the soprano's life. She feels like the luckiest girl in the world.The soprano thanks God everyday for the tenor. Neither of them are perfect. But both of them are good for each other, and so now they are together.
This story is incomplete. Only time will tell what the next chapter will hold. But for now, enjoy this picture of a giraffe.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Ten Months: September Recap
Where did September go? Where did the year go? Holy starfish. Goodness. Well, tomorrow is a new month. A new adventure. A new virtue.
I could have sworn I was supposed to start the virtue of continual mental prayer tomorrow, but I looked at my schedule to make sure and apparently it's self-discipline. That's good. That's quite alright. Especially because my prayer life has lagged and ceased and diminished this month (probably due to my life being so great. Oh, the irony.), I need to get back into the habits of daily prayer.
September has been great, though. Did I tell you I went to Homecoming? Yeah. I did. Well, what happened was God brought the most amazing young man into my life. I believe, firmly, that I am so lucky to have met him. You will, no doubt, be hearing about him, so rest assured.
And patience? Though not always easy, and not always successful, there were times I made myself slow down and wait. Especially at night and in the mornings. Okay, I was still a grouch, but I just kept thinking, "Patience, patience, patience." over and over, even if I was obviously exhausted and just wanted my sister to get into (or out of!) bed without a fuss.
And I started teaching! I now teach 4th grade at my Church, and I love it! I think my kids like me, too, and I think they're learning, which is most important to me. Today was a bit interesting; I won't go into details, but we'll just say it was kind of stressful, to say the least.
I also assist in the Confirmation class, and have gotten all of the students to spiritually adopt children! A few even adopted more than one! I am so proud of them! They're very excited, too, because they receive letters from their children about twice a month. I delivered the first letters last week, and some of the students were very obviously touched. One girl teared up, and a few others sat silently just rereading their letters over and over until class began.
Oh! And I got nominated for Governor's Honors in French! I found that out last week. I am so excited! I'm going to work on my essays today, and have my application in by Tuesday!
And fall started. My favorite season. Hallelujah!
Yeah. September's been good. Now, perhaps October will be just as wonderful. I just need to get my prayer act back together. Yay for self-discipline!
Enjoy this picture of pretty leaves!
I could have sworn I was supposed to start the virtue of continual mental prayer tomorrow, but I looked at my schedule to make sure and apparently it's self-discipline. That's good. That's quite alright. Especially because my prayer life has lagged and ceased and diminished this month (probably due to my life being so great. Oh, the irony.), I need to get back into the habits of daily prayer.
September has been great, though. Did I tell you I went to Homecoming? Yeah. I did. Well, what happened was God brought the most amazing young man into my life. I believe, firmly, that I am so lucky to have met him. You will, no doubt, be hearing about him, so rest assured.
And patience? Though not always easy, and not always successful, there were times I made myself slow down and wait. Especially at night and in the mornings. Okay, I was still a grouch, but I just kept thinking, "Patience, patience, patience." over and over, even if I was obviously exhausted and just wanted my sister to get into (or out of!) bed without a fuss.
And I started teaching! I now teach 4th grade at my Church, and I love it! I think my kids like me, too, and I think they're learning, which is most important to me. Today was a bit interesting; I won't go into details, but we'll just say it was kind of stressful, to say the least.
I also assist in the Confirmation class, and have gotten all of the students to spiritually adopt children! A few even adopted more than one! I am so proud of them! They're very excited, too, because they receive letters from their children about twice a month. I delivered the first letters last week, and some of the students were very obviously touched. One girl teared up, and a few others sat silently just rereading their letters over and over until class began.
Oh! And I got nominated for Governor's Honors in French! I found that out last week. I am so excited! I'm going to work on my essays today, and have my application in by Tuesday!
And fall started. My favorite season. Hallelujah!
Yeah. September's been good. Now, perhaps October will be just as wonderful. I just need to get my prayer act back together. Yay for self-discipline!
Enjoy this picture of pretty leaves!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Birds and Ants
I'm sorry I've barely blogged at all this month. September has been filled with school, school, and more school. I'm exhausted. My prayer life has lagged (tremendously, actually. It's sad.). Life has been busy.
But I finally have a moment! Triumph! I'd like to talk to you about ants and birds.
See, I really don't like ants. I really, really don't like ants. I was taking out the trash the other day and stepped into an anthill and got lots of ant bites. I don't like ants.
They're hated, despised, and loathed because they sting, hurt, look creepy, take over lawns, and no matter what you do, you can never get rid of them.
Jeez, that sounds kinda like religion, doesn't it? I mean, without the stinging and hurting bit.
I originally meant to say Christianity, but then I realized that all religions are like that. To the unreligious, the religious are a nuisance, often times. Not always, but think about the average, unreligious American. They hear about God and Allah and Brahma (if they know who Brahma is) and Buddha (especially if they think Buddha is a god), and just start to shut down and start getting their ant protection together.
By contrast, think about birds. Birds are everywhere. They can fly, sing, and eat as much as they want and not have to worry about burning off calories. We can't escape the birds. They're beautiful. We are drawn to the birds.
Jeez, birds sound a lot like the religious, too. But when people hear or see birds, they smile. They want to be around birds. They like birds. The average, unreligious American hears about God and Allah and Brahma and Buddha, and is intrigued. They wonder what could be so great about religion.
Notice I have two average, unreligious Americans, but both of them are the same. What's different is the religious.
Now before you go all "what in the world?!" like you more than likely usually do when reading my posts, just wait a minute. Think about it.
There are some religious people that are birds. People admire birds because they don't intrude. They live and work as breathe and fly and people just like to watch them. Ants, on the other hand, are aggravating. They intrude, attack, and are associated with a total negativity, unless you're an antologist.
Let's be honest. There are some religious people that just talk too much. We love them, Jesus loves them, but religion is not a topic you want to talk to them about.
And then there are some people that you don't even have to talk to and you know they're religious. You know they're good people just by looking at them.
St. Francis of Assisi said," Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary use words."
As people who love God, we do not want to drive people away from the light of His Love; we want to draw others into it to be an example of what God can do. We do not want to be ants.
Let's be birds.
And yes, because I'm on my iPod and can't get on google images AND blog at the same time, I took a picture of a picture in a book. Tada!
But I finally have a moment! Triumph! I'd like to talk to you about ants and birds.
See, I really don't like ants. I really, really don't like ants. I was taking out the trash the other day and stepped into an anthill and got lots of ant bites. I don't like ants.
They're hated, despised, and loathed because they sting, hurt, look creepy, take over lawns, and no matter what you do, you can never get rid of them.
Jeez, that sounds kinda like religion, doesn't it? I mean, without the stinging and hurting bit.
I originally meant to say Christianity, but then I realized that all religions are like that. To the unreligious, the religious are a nuisance, often times. Not always, but think about the average, unreligious American. They hear about God and Allah and Brahma (if they know who Brahma is) and Buddha (especially if they think Buddha is a god), and just start to shut down and start getting their ant protection together.
By contrast, think about birds. Birds are everywhere. They can fly, sing, and eat as much as they want and not have to worry about burning off calories. We can't escape the birds. They're beautiful. We are drawn to the birds.
Jeez, birds sound a lot like the religious, too. But when people hear or see birds, they smile. They want to be around birds. They like birds. The average, unreligious American hears about God and Allah and Brahma and Buddha, and is intrigued. They wonder what could be so great about religion.
Notice I have two average, unreligious Americans, but both of them are the same. What's different is the religious.
Now before you go all "what in the world?!" like you more than likely usually do when reading my posts, just wait a minute. Think about it.
There are some religious people that are birds. People admire birds because they don't intrude. They live and work as breathe and fly and people just like to watch them. Ants, on the other hand, are aggravating. They intrude, attack, and are associated with a total negativity, unless you're an antologist.
Let's be honest. There are some religious people that just talk too much. We love them, Jesus loves them, but religion is not a topic you want to talk to them about.
And then there are some people that you don't even have to talk to and you know they're religious. You know they're good people just by looking at them.
St. Francis of Assisi said," Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary use words."
As people who love God, we do not want to drive people away from the light of His Love; we want to draw others into it to be an example of what God can do. We do not want to be ants.
Let's be birds.
And yes, because I'm on my iPod and can't get on google images AND blog at the same time, I took a picture of a picture in a book. Tada!
Maps
So I promised a wonderful woman that I would write a post with her in it. I guess that means I should send her the link to my blog.
Anyways, this wonderful lady (we'll call her Mrs. Nellie), always has my back, for musical purposes. I need music? She's got it. I need music printed out and my printer's being a pain? She's got it. I need a lift to a gig? She'll take me. I need a set list? She's got it. I accidentally leave a song at home? She's got extras. I leave my whole set at home? She'll find a solution. She's really quite amazing; she's always willing to inconvenience herself to help others. I greatly admire that quality and pray that one day I will be as loving and as humble as she.
I could write post after post about only these two aspects of her, but I have another in mind. If you're thinking, "Oh, starfish not another metaphor", feel free to smugly look at your computer screen in the triumph of your correct guess.
People say that music is life. I disagree. God is life. However, I do think that music can be the map of life. Not totally "turn left at the sign that says don't eat the apple. It's poisonous" accurate, but it maps out the basics, like "if you need a hand, lean on me" and "how he loves us". It's a general map because every story is different.
Mrs. Nellie helps/gives me music so that I know what to play and when. A chord chart is my map to a song, or sheet music is my map to a masterpiece. God gave us 2 maps. He gave us, first the Bible, which of course has practically everything that could ever occur on earth in it; He also gave us His Son. His Son taught us the value of the Bible by coming down here to earth and demonstrating it Himself. He showed us how to live, and if He knew we still had a question, He would point and say, "For those with questions, see Saint So-And-So".
I know that it's rude to point, but perhaps more than anyone else, Christ points to Mary. If we have a question that He did not answer, then Mary will be able to answer it. Our Lady was wonderful. She was a mother and a virgin, she died a normal death and yet she was a martyr, a sword pierced her heart as the soldier pierced her Son's side with a lance (not literally, by the way), she was crowned Queen, but still remained humble and loyal to her Son and to her God.
Music is a map. Mrs. Nellie gives me my map. Christ is a map. God gave me my map. Well... maps.
Although I'm glad I do have my maps, this does not always mean that the going will be easy. Of course not. Christianity is far too complex for that. No, there will be crossroads.
Turn left to attend Georgia Southern.
Turn right to attend Valdosta State.
Continue straight just to see what happens.
Like those books from years ago, the "have your own adventure" ones. Remember those? I wish we still had them.
Turn to page 45 to fight the dragon.
Continue on to fight the other dragon.
Turn to page 72 to fight both dragons.
Turn to page 364 for a werewolf.
Always crossroads, always wondering. But we have our music. We have our conductor. We have our map. Follow the music and you'll be okay. Follow the map and you'll be just fine. Keep your mind focused on Mary, Christ, and the saints. We'll get to Destination Heaven somehow. Just continue down Highway Virtuous and don't be discouraged if you start seeing signs that say "Prince Charming Lost? Bet'cha he's here!" or "Tired of chasing a goal that seems impossible? Stop here for a closer one". Keep going until you're there.
Anyways, this wonderful lady (we'll call her Mrs. Nellie), always has my back, for musical purposes. I need music? She's got it. I need music printed out and my printer's being a pain? She's got it. I need a lift to a gig? She'll take me. I need a set list? She's got it. I accidentally leave a song at home? She's got extras. I leave my whole set at home? She'll find a solution. She's really quite amazing; she's always willing to inconvenience herself to help others. I greatly admire that quality and pray that one day I will be as loving and as humble as she.
I could write post after post about only these two aspects of her, but I have another in mind. If you're thinking, "Oh, starfish not another metaphor", feel free to smugly look at your computer screen in the triumph of your correct guess.
People say that music is life. I disagree. God is life. However, I do think that music can be the map of life. Not totally "turn left at the sign that says don't eat the apple. It's poisonous" accurate, but it maps out the basics, like "if you need a hand, lean on me" and "how he loves us". It's a general map because every story is different.
Mrs. Nellie helps/gives me music so that I know what to play and when. A chord chart is my map to a song, or sheet music is my map to a masterpiece. God gave us 2 maps. He gave us, first the Bible, which of course has practically everything that could ever occur on earth in it; He also gave us His Son. His Son taught us the value of the Bible by coming down here to earth and demonstrating it Himself. He showed us how to live, and if He knew we still had a question, He would point and say, "For those with questions, see Saint So-And-So".
I know that it's rude to point, but perhaps more than anyone else, Christ points to Mary. If we have a question that He did not answer, then Mary will be able to answer it. Our Lady was wonderful. She was a mother and a virgin, she died a normal death and yet she was a martyr, a sword pierced her heart as the soldier pierced her Son's side with a lance (not literally, by the way), she was crowned Queen, but still remained humble and loyal to her Son and to her God.
Music is a map. Mrs. Nellie gives me my map. Christ is a map. God gave me my map. Well... maps.
Although I'm glad I do have my maps, this does not always mean that the going will be easy. Of course not. Christianity is far too complex for that. No, there will be crossroads.
Turn left to attend Georgia Southern.
Turn right to attend Valdosta State.
Continue straight just to see what happens.
Like those books from years ago, the "have your own adventure" ones. Remember those? I wish we still had them.
Turn to page 45 to fight the dragon.
Continue on to fight the other dragon.
Turn to page 72 to fight both dragons.
Turn to page 364 for a werewolf.
Always crossroads, always wondering. But we have our music. We have our conductor. We have our map. Follow the music and you'll be okay. Follow the map and you'll be just fine. Keep your mind focused on Mary, Christ, and the saints. We'll get to Destination Heaven somehow. Just continue down Highway Virtuous and don't be discouraged if you start seeing signs that say "Prince Charming Lost? Bet'cha he's here!" or "Tired of chasing a goal that seems impossible? Stop here for a closer one". Keep going until you're there.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
10 Months: Introducing Patience
So apparently it's September now? It's ridiculous how fast this year has passed. I really cannot believe it.
But here it is! And with a new month comes another virtue. Month 4: Patience!!!
Ah, patience. I suppose I'm a pretty patient person (when dealing with human beings) until about 9pm, then little by little it escapes my grasp. My sister, the lovely Samantha, can testify. The hours after 9pm, I know already, will be the hardest for me. That is when I get tired, cranky, and I don't want to be bothered by anyone or anything unless someone is dying.
But August! Like with humility, I believe I could have done better, but I do think I am on the way to becoming the-best-version-of-myself, as Matthew Kelly would say. After about 9pm was, I think, the most "heck to obedience" mentality came in, because, as I said, that's when I transform into a grouch. But, like I said with humility, I do have more time to improve this and I know that God is urging me to, so onward I go!
I am pretty proud to say that not once this year have I taken a short cut on homework. I've done it all, fully and completely! Yes!
Patience, patience, patience. AND WE'RE OFF.
But here it is! And with a new month comes another virtue. Month 4: Patience!!!
Ah, patience. I suppose I'm a pretty patient person (when dealing with human beings) until about 9pm, then little by little it escapes my grasp. My sister, the lovely Samantha, can testify. The hours after 9pm, I know already, will be the hardest for me. That is when I get tired, cranky, and I don't want to be bothered by anyone or anything unless someone is dying.
But August! Like with humility, I believe I could have done better, but I do think I am on the way to becoming the-best-version-of-myself, as Matthew Kelly would say. After about 9pm was, I think, the most "heck to obedience" mentality came in, because, as I said, that's when I transform into a grouch. But, like I said with humility, I do have more time to improve this and I know that God is urging me to, so onward I go!
I am pretty proud to say that not once this year have I taken a short cut on homework. I've done it all, fully and completely! Yes!
Patience, patience, patience. AND WE'RE OFF.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Red Wagons and Story Books
Wagons. Imagine you have a super shiny, really pretty, red wagon. I mean it's like super, insanely gorgeous.
Now imagine you're pulling this wagon, and that you're writing a memoir of your life as it happens. Each event is a story. With each event that happens, good or bad, you record it in a book and then place the book in your super shiny wagon.
After a while, your wagon starts to get heavier and heavier. If you're a saint and all your books are filled with good things, then you're proud if it's weight. But few of us are saints. If your books are like mine, then many of them are filled with pain and mistakes alongside the good things .
The books pile up. The more books you fill the heavier your wagon gets, the more tired you become, the more tired you become, the more your wagon drags, and the more your wagon drags, the dirtier it gets.
Then imagine you see this guy walking towards you. He comes up and sees how tired you are. He asks," Would you like some help?" You don't know him, so you answer," No, thanks."
"Well, can I walk with you? Just in case?" he asks. You agree, but only because this is a hypothetical situation where stranger-danger doesn't apply.
He starts talking to you. After a while you get into a conversation with him. You realize that you like this guy. He's cool. He's nice and funny and you feel really safe with him. After a while, he asks again, "Would you like some help with the wagon?" Again, you refuse. He's quickly becoming a friend, but you think you can handle it and don't want to burden him with your stuff.
He asks about the books.
"They're the story of my life." you explain.
"That's a lot of books." he says. "Your life must be pretty interesting. Can I see?"
You hesitate, but you like this guy, so you say, "Sure." you pick a book with good things in it. You don't want to depress him with the bad things. And besides, those are your things. Yours and yours alone. He doesn't need to be all up in your business, no matter who he is.
He looks through it. "I like this." he says. "Can I see another?"
You show him only the good ones, and he reads them all. He laughs and smiles and you talk about the experiences. Then he sees one that looks kind of run down, kind of beaten up. "What's in that book?" he asks. You hesitate again. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, though." he adds.
"No, it's okay." but your voice kind of shakes. It's not really okay. "That book has the stories about all the bad stuff."
"Oh." he says. He can see you're upset. You can see that he wants to help, so when he asks, "May I see?" you decide to show him one story and only one story. He reads the story and you can see that he's starting to cry. You wonder why he's crying, so you ask him.
"Should I smile?" he asks you. "This is sad. It obviously made you sad and made you cry. Crying alone is sad, too. I don't want you to be sad." You think you're going to start crying. "How many books have things like this?"
You sigh. You look back at the wagon and the books. "A lot of them." you say. He stops and you stop with him. He put the book back in the wagon.
"I don't want you to be sad." he says. "And I don't want you to be sad and alone." He looks sincere. "Can I stay with you forever?"
You hesitate. "But you don't know me." you protest. "How can I believe you?"
He sighs. "You look tired. Can I pull your wagon for a little while?" You sigh, too, and finally agree. You give him the handle of the wagon, and expect him to start walking. But he doesn't. He goes around to expect the wagon. "This poor wagon." he says. "May I wash it?" You agree, and together you make the wagon as clean as it can be, but with all the books, it's hard to keep it clean.
You start walking with him. After a while, he says, "You look really tired. Would you like to rest?" You say sure, and you stop by some trees. "How about in the wagon?" he says. The wagon, although heavy, is large, and there is room for you to be comfortable.
"Are you sure?" you ask. You don't want to burden him. He smiles. "Of course!" he says. You get into the wagon, and after a while you're asleep.
After a while you wake up. "Awake, I see!" he says, smiling. Then he looks at the books. "I don't want you to move, but this is really heavy. Do you really need all of these books?"
"I've always had them." you say.
"Can I take some from the wagon?" he asks. "I'll put them in my wagon so you don't have to carry them." You're not sure. "Just one?" he asks. You sigh. "Okay..." he takes a book from the wagon, the one he saw that made him cry. The moment he picks it up, it vanishes.
"Where did it go?" you ask. That's your story. You want it.
"To my wagon." he said and smiled. He keeps walking. You fall asleep again. When you wake up, he asks if he can read a book. Being very tired, you say sure and hand him the one nearest to you. You go back to sleep. You don't know it, but he's reading the book and crying. When you wake up again, he asks if he can send some more books to his wagon. "Okay." you say. "Can I pull my wagon, though? I'm not tired anymore." Some of the books disappear when you get out and he hands you the handle to the wagon. You start walking. "Wow! It's lighter!" you say. You beam.
"Yes, it is!" he says. You start talking to him again. You keep talking for a long time, going into deeper and deeper conversations until your telling him your whole life story. You could let him read it, but you want to tell him yourself. You don't notice it, but the more stories you tell him, the more books disappear.
Finally, there's only one book left. It's a book that looks very, very worn out. It's dirty and gross and old-looking. You realize that you and he have been crying for a long time.
"Can I put that book in my wagon?" he asks you. "It will be safe there, but you don't have to carry it anymore."
"No." you say. He's your best friend now. "I don't want you to read that book."
"But you told me the others." he says. He is not condescending or impatient, but gentle. "What's different about that one?"
You sigh. "That one has all of my mistakes." you say. "I don't want you to see those." Every mistake you've ever made runs through your mind. You realize you're about to start a full out sobbing session.
"I saw the others." he says. You drop the handle of the wagon and stop. "I know you. I love you."
"But if you read that one, you'll want to leave!" you say. You start crying again. "I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay! That book will change everything!" You're embarrassed about crying in front of him for the first time, so you cover your face with your hands. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you. He doesn't talk for a long time; he just listens to you cry. You can feel his tears fall from his face into your hair or onto your shoulders. You calm down after a long while, and he speaks.
"How could I leave you?" he asks, still holding you close. "How could I leave the one that I love? I love you! I want to be with you forever! I do not want you to be alone, and as long as I am here, you will never have to be alone! Why should I leave? I love you, and what you have done will never, ever change that!"
"Everyone says that." you protest, but you want him to be telling the truth, so you pull back and give him the book. "Take it." you say. "Just take it. You'll see. That book changes everything."
He starts reading the book. You stand there, waiting for the moment when he will say, "You know, you're not who I thought you were. Here are your books back. Maybe I'll see you around." But that moment never comes.
He finishes the book. "Oh, my beloved. I love you." Suddenly, again, you're crying. You're crying so hard that when he puts the book down and wraps his arms around you again, you start to fall, but he catches you. He doesn't let you go. "I will never abandon or forsake or leave you." he says. "I love you." You cling to him. You cry. He holds you. You know that you are safe with him. You know with all your heart that he's telling the truth, and you realize that you love him, too. "Don't leave me." he says. "I'll never leave you. I love you."
"I love you, too." you say. You realize, with a start, that he's somebody amazing. You want to get to know him even more, but you know that the only way to do that is to let him take the book for you. You give him the book. The moment he takes it, it vanishes. You feel great. Like the whole world has suddenly turned around.
"Let's clean your wagon." he suggests. You feel fantastic, so you agree. You both clean the wagon, and after a while it's as beautiful as it was to start out. You start walking with the wagon, and living, and all the while you're talking. You learn more about him and his story. You realize how fantastic he is. You can't imagine your life without him after a while.
Finally, He takes the wagon completely from you. You realize that He saved your life and you want to give everything to Him that you can, so every book you complete you give to Him. Your wagon merges with His wagon, and it's just the two of you walking, side-by-side. Sometimes you get a story that's sad or you make a mistake, but you know He still loves you and that He forgives you. You give all of these stories to Him, too. You and He become great pals. You never go anywhere without Him and He never leaves you.
Then one day, you see someone walking that has a wagon full of books. You remember what it was like without this Guy beside you. You look at Him and He looks at you. He smiles and then leads you to the person with the wagon.
[Image Source: http://miniature-gardening.com/garden-tools/wagons-wheelbarrows/c-4_47/]
Now imagine you're pulling this wagon, and that you're writing a memoir of your life as it happens. Each event is a story. With each event that happens, good or bad, you record it in a book and then place the book in your super shiny wagon.
After a while, your wagon starts to get heavier and heavier. If you're a saint and all your books are filled with good things, then you're proud if it's weight. But few of us are saints. If your books are like mine, then many of them are filled with pain and mistakes alongside the good things .
The books pile up. The more books you fill the heavier your wagon gets, the more tired you become, the more tired you become, the more your wagon drags, and the more your wagon drags, the dirtier it gets.
Then imagine you see this guy walking towards you. He comes up and sees how tired you are. He asks," Would you like some help?" You don't know him, so you answer," No, thanks."
"Well, can I walk with you? Just in case?" he asks. You agree, but only because this is a hypothetical situation where stranger-danger doesn't apply.
He starts talking to you. After a while you get into a conversation with him. You realize that you like this guy. He's cool. He's nice and funny and you feel really safe with him. After a while, he asks again, "Would you like some help with the wagon?" Again, you refuse. He's quickly becoming a friend, but you think you can handle it and don't want to burden him with your stuff.
He asks about the books.
"They're the story of my life." you explain.
"That's a lot of books." he says. "Your life must be pretty interesting. Can I see?"
You hesitate, but you like this guy, so you say, "Sure." you pick a book with good things in it. You don't want to depress him with the bad things. And besides, those are your things. Yours and yours alone. He doesn't need to be all up in your business, no matter who he is.
He looks through it. "I like this." he says. "Can I see another?"
You show him only the good ones, and he reads them all. He laughs and smiles and you talk about the experiences. Then he sees one that looks kind of run down, kind of beaten up. "What's in that book?" he asks. You hesitate again. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, though." he adds.
"No, it's okay." but your voice kind of shakes. It's not really okay. "That book has the stories about all the bad stuff."
"Oh." he says. He can see you're upset. You can see that he wants to help, so when he asks, "May I see?" you decide to show him one story and only one story. He reads the story and you can see that he's starting to cry. You wonder why he's crying, so you ask him.
"Should I smile?" he asks you. "This is sad. It obviously made you sad and made you cry. Crying alone is sad, too. I don't want you to be sad." You think you're going to start crying. "How many books have things like this?"
You sigh. You look back at the wagon and the books. "A lot of them." you say. He stops and you stop with him. He put the book back in the wagon.
"I don't want you to be sad." he says. "And I don't want you to be sad and alone." He looks sincere. "Can I stay with you forever?"
You hesitate. "But you don't know me." you protest. "How can I believe you?"
He sighs. "You look tired. Can I pull your wagon for a little while?" You sigh, too, and finally agree. You give him the handle of the wagon, and expect him to start walking. But he doesn't. He goes around to expect the wagon. "This poor wagon." he says. "May I wash it?" You agree, and together you make the wagon as clean as it can be, but with all the books, it's hard to keep it clean.
You start walking with him. After a while, he says, "You look really tired. Would you like to rest?" You say sure, and you stop by some trees. "How about in the wagon?" he says. The wagon, although heavy, is large, and there is room for you to be comfortable.
"Are you sure?" you ask. You don't want to burden him. He smiles. "Of course!" he says. You get into the wagon, and after a while you're asleep.
After a while you wake up. "Awake, I see!" he says, smiling. Then he looks at the books. "I don't want you to move, but this is really heavy. Do you really need all of these books?"
"I've always had them." you say.
"Can I take some from the wagon?" he asks. "I'll put them in my wagon so you don't have to carry them." You're not sure. "Just one?" he asks. You sigh. "Okay..." he takes a book from the wagon, the one he saw that made him cry. The moment he picks it up, it vanishes.
"Where did it go?" you ask. That's your story. You want it.
"To my wagon." he said and smiled. He keeps walking. You fall asleep again. When you wake up, he asks if he can read a book. Being very tired, you say sure and hand him the one nearest to you. You go back to sleep. You don't know it, but he's reading the book and crying. When you wake up again, he asks if he can send some more books to his wagon. "Okay." you say. "Can I pull my wagon, though? I'm not tired anymore." Some of the books disappear when you get out and he hands you the handle to the wagon. You start walking. "Wow! It's lighter!" you say. You beam.
"Yes, it is!" he says. You start talking to him again. You keep talking for a long time, going into deeper and deeper conversations until your telling him your whole life story. You could let him read it, but you want to tell him yourself. You don't notice it, but the more stories you tell him, the more books disappear.
Finally, there's only one book left. It's a book that looks very, very worn out. It's dirty and gross and old-looking. You realize that you and he have been crying for a long time.
"Can I put that book in my wagon?" he asks you. "It will be safe there, but you don't have to carry it anymore."
"No." you say. He's your best friend now. "I don't want you to read that book."
"But you told me the others." he says. He is not condescending or impatient, but gentle. "What's different about that one?"
You sigh. "That one has all of my mistakes." you say. "I don't want you to see those." Every mistake you've ever made runs through your mind. You realize you're about to start a full out sobbing session.
"I saw the others." he says. You drop the handle of the wagon and stop. "I know you. I love you."
"But if you read that one, you'll want to leave!" you say. You start crying again. "I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay! That book will change everything!" You're embarrassed about crying in front of him for the first time, so you cover your face with your hands. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you. He doesn't talk for a long time; he just listens to you cry. You can feel his tears fall from his face into your hair or onto your shoulders. You calm down after a long while, and he speaks.
"How could I leave you?" he asks, still holding you close. "How could I leave the one that I love? I love you! I want to be with you forever! I do not want you to be alone, and as long as I am here, you will never have to be alone! Why should I leave? I love you, and what you have done will never, ever change that!"
"Everyone says that." you protest, but you want him to be telling the truth, so you pull back and give him the book. "Take it." you say. "Just take it. You'll see. That book changes everything."
He starts reading the book. You stand there, waiting for the moment when he will say, "You know, you're not who I thought you were. Here are your books back. Maybe I'll see you around." But that moment never comes.
He finishes the book. "Oh, my beloved. I love you." Suddenly, again, you're crying. You're crying so hard that when he puts the book down and wraps his arms around you again, you start to fall, but he catches you. He doesn't let you go. "I will never abandon or forsake or leave you." he says. "I love you." You cling to him. You cry. He holds you. You know that you are safe with him. You know with all your heart that he's telling the truth, and you realize that you love him, too. "Don't leave me." he says. "I'll never leave you. I love you."
"I love you, too." you say. You realize, with a start, that he's somebody amazing. You want to get to know him even more, but you know that the only way to do that is to let him take the book for you. You give him the book. The moment he takes it, it vanishes. You feel great. Like the whole world has suddenly turned around.
"Let's clean your wagon." he suggests. You feel fantastic, so you agree. You both clean the wagon, and after a while it's as beautiful as it was to start out. You start walking with the wagon, and living, and all the while you're talking. You learn more about him and his story. You realize how fantastic he is. You can't imagine your life without him after a while.
Finally, He takes the wagon completely from you. You realize that He saved your life and you want to give everything to Him that you can, so every book you complete you give to Him. Your wagon merges with His wagon, and it's just the two of you walking, side-by-side. Sometimes you get a story that's sad or you make a mistake, but you know He still loves you and that He forgives you. You give all of these stories to Him, too. You and He become great pals. You never go anywhere without Him and He never leaves you.
Then one day, you see someone walking that has a wagon full of books. You remember what it was like without this Guy beside you. You look at Him and He looks at you. He smiles and then leads you to the person with the wagon.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Becoming A Candle
Multiple times this week I have received very, VERY wonderful praise. It has been definitely been amazing hearing such incredible things from such incredible people. The things that have been said to me I didn't expect.
Basically, this week I have been called "magnificent", "the humble servant", "a girl that not just anyone should be able to be with", "amazing", and "powerful". By FOUR different people. I mean, wow.
It startled me. Here I am, this ordinary girl just trying to become the-best-version-of-herself as Matthew Kelly would say, and suddenly all these extraordinary people are calling ME extraordinary.
They call me amazing, but really I'm not. In reality my God is amazing, and apparently His light is shining through me. I am the candle and my Father is the flame. I am only the food for the flame, and He is the light that expels the dark and shines over all else.
It makes me so impossibly happy to know that people can see my Father through me. My Father is the bomb, guys. I want to share Him with everyone, and I guess I must be doing something right because people can see Him! Silly me is becoming the doorway to the most wonderful Person in the universe.
I'm not trying to sound proud, so I apologize if it's coming out like that. But wow.
I am becoming a candle. I still have far to go, but I am becoming a candle--HIS candle!
A huge thank you I everyone who has been with me and guided me on my path to candle hood!! I love you all!!!
Basically, this week I have been called "magnificent", "the humble servant", "a girl that not just anyone should be able to be with", "amazing", and "powerful". By FOUR different people. I mean, wow.
It startled me. Here I am, this ordinary girl just trying to become the-best-version-of-herself as Matthew Kelly would say, and suddenly all these extraordinary people are calling ME extraordinary.
They call me amazing, but really I'm not. In reality my God is amazing, and apparently His light is shining through me. I am the candle and my Father is the flame. I am only the food for the flame, and He is the light that expels the dark and shines over all else.
It makes me so impossibly happy to know that people can see my Father through me. My Father is the bomb, guys. I want to share Him with everyone, and I guess I must be doing something right because people can see Him! Silly me is becoming the doorway to the most wonderful Person in the universe.
I'm not trying to sound proud, so I apologize if it's coming out like that. But wow.
I am becoming a candle. I still have far to go, but I am becoming a candle--HIS candle!
A huge thank you I everyone who has been with me and guided me on my path to candle hood!! I love you all!!!
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The Unique Story
I've been having trouble writing lately. The past few posts have been rather forced, and you can probably tell from my writing if you pay attention to such things.
I guess I'm just going through one of those dry spells where you just see very little of note. I've tried to blog several times (probably 9 or 10) getting close to the end of a post, being unsatisfied, deleting, and beginning with a new topic. It's a vicious cycle, really.
Well, I'm going to force myself to write today because it'll be good for me. Get me back on track, you know. Let us begin!
Today in my chemistry class, we had 5 minutes left. My teacher randomly started asking questions about ourselves. People were talking so loud it was easy to not listen, get distracted, and then suddenly the teacher was repeating the question to you four thousand times.
"What's the thing you like most about yourself?"
Oh starfish, how I loathe that question. If I answer, I feel vain. If I don't answer, I feel like I give myself no credit at all.
Being quite taken aback, and stuttered, "Um... I don't really know, honestly. Probably my hair, though. I like my hair." The bell rang. School was over for the day.
I walked out to the bus, thinking on this. I do like my hair. For those of you that haven't seen it, all I really have to say is "think Tangled". I have rather long, quite golden, blonde hair. Definitely my signature attribute, no doubt. But is it really what I like most about myself?
No. No, I don't think it is.
After thinking about it more, I've decided that the thing I like most about myself is my story.
I will not bore you with details of my story, but my story is unique, special, and it has made me who I am today. My story will never end, and began thousands of years ago the moment God decided, "I'm going to create the universe". My story began in that moment and has been inadvertently made possible by all of my ancestors. See, there's my prologue.
My chapters are myself and myself alone. My story is full of people, some good and some not-so-good; family, love, good times, bad times, days with friends, and days without them, betrayals and forgiveness, beginnings and endings, hurts and healing, sins and redemption. Without the first sixteen chapters and that prologue unique to me and only me, I would not be who I am today. Without this sixteenth chapter, I could not be who I'm supposed to be in Chapter Seventeen, or Eighteen, or Nineteen, or Forty.
God is writing the story of my life, and I am quite happy that He is the author.
And one day, that final chapter will receive it's final period, exclamation mark, or question mark, and the epilogue will begin. My epilogue will be part of someone else's prologue. I will be someone else's aunt and someone's mother and someone's wife.
I don't know what the rest of Chapter Sixteen will hold, but the pen is in the hands of the best author in the world, and the One who created the world, for that matter. I know the rest of my story will be pretty cool if someone as amazing as God is holding the pen.
My story, all the intricate words and paper and hands and bodies and eyes and feelings and souls that have affected me, is unique. We all have our own stories, and I am quite proud of mine, even with the mistakes and the streaks of tears I've probably caused God to weep upon the book of my soul.
So now I know what to say next time someone poses the question. I will no doubt confuse everyone within earshot, but that's kind of what I'm always doing, so it's all good.
Picture Source: http://www.writerslobby.com/
I guess I'm just going through one of those dry spells where you just see very little of note. I've tried to blog several times (probably 9 or 10) getting close to the end of a post, being unsatisfied, deleting, and beginning with a new topic. It's a vicious cycle, really.
Well, I'm going to force myself to write today because it'll be good for me. Get me back on track, you know. Let us begin!
Today in my chemistry class, we had 5 minutes left. My teacher randomly started asking questions about ourselves. People were talking so loud it was easy to not listen, get distracted, and then suddenly the teacher was repeating the question to you four thousand times.
"What's the thing you like most about yourself?"
Oh starfish, how I loathe that question. If I answer, I feel vain. If I don't answer, I feel like I give myself no credit at all.
Being quite taken aback, and stuttered, "Um... I don't really know, honestly. Probably my hair, though. I like my hair." The bell rang. School was over for the day.
I walked out to the bus, thinking on this. I do like my hair. For those of you that haven't seen it, all I really have to say is "think Tangled". I have rather long, quite golden, blonde hair. Definitely my signature attribute, no doubt. But is it really what I like most about myself?
No. No, I don't think it is.
After thinking about it more, I've decided that the thing I like most about myself is my story.
I will not bore you with details of my story, but my story is unique, special, and it has made me who I am today. My story will never end, and began thousands of years ago the moment God decided, "I'm going to create the universe". My story began in that moment and has been inadvertently made possible by all of my ancestors. See, there's my prologue.
My chapters are myself and myself alone. My story is full of people, some good and some not-so-good; family, love, good times, bad times, days with friends, and days without them, betrayals and forgiveness, beginnings and endings, hurts and healing, sins and redemption. Without the first sixteen chapters and that prologue unique to me and only me, I would not be who I am today. Without this sixteenth chapter, I could not be who I'm supposed to be in Chapter Seventeen, or Eighteen, or Nineteen, or Forty.
God is writing the story of my life, and I am quite happy that He is the author.
And one day, that final chapter will receive it's final period, exclamation mark, or question mark, and the epilogue will begin. My epilogue will be part of someone else's prologue. I will be someone else's aunt and someone's mother and someone's wife.
I don't know what the rest of Chapter Sixteen will hold, but the pen is in the hands of the best author in the world, and the One who created the world, for that matter. I know the rest of my story will be pretty cool if someone as amazing as God is holding the pen.
My story, all the intricate words and paper and hands and bodies and eyes and feelings and souls that have affected me, is unique. We all have our own stories, and I am quite proud of mine, even with the mistakes and the streaks of tears I've probably caused God to weep upon the book of my soul.
So now I know what to say next time someone poses the question. I will no doubt confuse everyone within earshot, but that's kind of what I'm always doing, so it's all good.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
The Back-To-School Post
My first day of school was Tuesday.
Wow. I can't believe it. I'm a junior. This year holds many things for me.
Graduation tests (although, if I've passed all my EOCT's, I don't have to take, and I have passed them), the SAT, my driver's liscence, Prom (if I decide to go), Homecoming (if I decide to go to this one, too), and the final year before my senior year in high school! Wow. I have a full year planned. I'm starting to look at colleges (I'm pretty sure I want to go to Georgia Southern) and I'm starting to think about a future career (I'm pretty sure I'm going to major in French and English). I'm siked.
Getting back into the school mood has been rather easy. This year, I have 2 AP classes all year, so I have more homework than I did last year, but it's all good. I like the classes and the teachers and the work.
I like all my teachers and classes. Okay, the Cat Lady Chemistry teacher could perhaps be a little more fun, but she's interesting and a bit different, so it's okay! She even has 5 kittens she's adopted in her classroom. They're really little, so she bottlefeeds them and lets us hold them before or towards the end of class if we get our work done (which really isn't a lot).
I'm in Advanced Chorus this year, too. Pretty excited! I'm ready for challenging stuff (like one of Eric Whitacre's a capella pieces! Or maybe some of the old Masses!).
Did I mention my brother and I are now at the same school? We don't really see each other, but next year we probably will more than we do now. He's a freshman. Wow. Is he really that old?
Oh, school. Awesome classes and teachers and homework (no sarcasm intended) and knowledge to be attained!
I've almost completed my first week of school. I'm exhausted, but learning and having fun. Of course God is here. Who do you think keeps me company in the 4 classes I don't know anyone? And at lunch. And before school. And on part of the bus ride home. And in betweeen classes. Of course I'm still keeping up that prayer life of mine; I wouldn't desert it for the world. It's been strange coming from a summer where the only place I heard a cuss word was in a movie to a school year where I commonly hear the "f-word" about 10 times within a 2 minute span of time. Let's not even get into all the other stuff at school.
But I've got God, and, more importantly, God's got me. I'll be great.
Wow. I love school.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
2000 Taps ---> 1lb. Honey
It's been four days since my last post, which drives me crazy. Only four days, I know, but it feels like forever. I've actually tried writing about 3 times, and none of it I liked or it didn't go anywhere or I couldn't say anything right or it was a rant of some sort. You writers understand.
Knowing if I didn't write something soon, I'd go insane, I headed to my trusty friend, the Lifeteen website, for some ideas. On their site, they have this "fun fact" every day. Today's fun fact was something along the lines of "It takes a bee 2,000 taps of nectar to make one pound of honey."
To us, a pound doesn't seem like that much. Unless of course, we're buying something. Then it's expensive as heck. But in general, a pound? Psh. My sister could easily contain fifty pounds of honey.
But to a bee. A pound of honey is a heck of a lot. They worked so hard to get that one pound of honey. I don't know how long it takes to get those 2000 taps of honey, but I'm pretty sure it isn't a day job. It probably took days, maybe weeks for a bunch of bees to carry it out.
Now, I'm really not a fan of bees. They fly and buzz and sting, but I have to admire their work ethic. They just keep going and going no matter what. They mind their own business--unlike their cousin, the wasp--and actually do something useful for the rest of the world. But back to the work ethic.
2000 taps of nectar must take a long time. How many taps you think they do in a day? Fifty? A hundred? I'm assuming that a tap means a visit to a flower or nectar source. More or less, I don't know. I'm not a bee expert and my computer runs to slow for me to begin to feel curious enough for me to look it up. Let's say they do fifty a day. That's 100 every 2 days, and 1000 every 20 days--if they're lucky. They're probably revisiting the same flowers and places everyday to get that much. That probably gets drab and boring and tiring, but still they keep chugging along! They're determined to get to that 2000 taps so they can make that honey!
They say that a bunch of little things make one big thing. 2000 taps make one beautiful pound of honey.
You getting that feeling yet? That "Oh heavens, she's going to call a 'Metaphor Meeting'" feeling? If you had it, chocolate for you, because you're right!
Honey is the goal for the bees. What's our honey?
I suppose our immediate Christian answer is to "live life for God!" or some variation. That's a good answer, not saying anything against it, and if something different came immediately to mind, I won't kill you either. And short term goals? Got any? You must. We all do.
In the next 9 months (we're in month 2 now, remember?) I want to:
Become closer to Jesus, through Mary
pass all 3 of my AP classes with flying colors
get a laptop
decide what I want to do with my life
figure out what God wants me to do with my life
learn, love, and live
That's a lot to do, and it'll probably require much more than 2000 nectar taps. But that's the honey, and I've got to get it somehow. Honey doesn't make itself, you know.
Also, Happy 4th of July!!!
Knowing if I didn't write something soon, I'd go insane, I headed to my trusty friend, the Lifeteen website, for some ideas. On their site, they have this "fun fact" every day. Today's fun fact was something along the lines of "It takes a bee 2,000 taps of nectar to make one pound of honey."
To us, a pound doesn't seem like that much. Unless of course, we're buying something. Then it's expensive as heck. But in general, a pound? Psh. My sister could easily contain fifty pounds of honey.
But to a bee. A pound of honey is a heck of a lot. They worked so hard to get that one pound of honey. I don't know how long it takes to get those 2000 taps of honey, but I'm pretty sure it isn't a day job. It probably took days, maybe weeks for a bunch of bees to carry it out.
Now, I'm really not a fan of bees. They fly and buzz and sting, but I have to admire their work ethic. They just keep going and going no matter what. They mind their own business--unlike their cousin, the wasp--and actually do something useful for the rest of the world. But back to the work ethic.
2000 taps of nectar must take a long time. How many taps you think they do in a day? Fifty? A hundred? I'm assuming that a tap means a visit to a flower or nectar source. More or less, I don't know. I'm not a bee expert and my computer runs to slow for me to begin to feel curious enough for me to look it up. Let's say they do fifty a day. That's 100 every 2 days, and 1000 every 20 days--if they're lucky. They're probably revisiting the same flowers and places everyday to get that much. That probably gets drab and boring and tiring, but still they keep chugging along! They're determined to get to that 2000 taps so they can make that honey!
They say that a bunch of little things make one big thing. 2000 taps make one beautiful pound of honey.
You getting that feeling yet? That "Oh heavens, she's going to call a 'Metaphor Meeting'" feeling? If you had it, chocolate for you, because you're right!
Honey is the goal for the bees. What's our honey?
I suppose our immediate Christian answer is to "live life for God!" or some variation. That's a good answer, not saying anything against it, and if something different came immediately to mind, I won't kill you either. And short term goals? Got any? You must. We all do.
In the next 9 months (we're in month 2 now, remember?) I want to:
Become closer to Jesus, through Mary
pass all 3 of my AP classes with flying colors
get a laptop
decide what I want to do with my life
figure out what God wants me to do with my life
learn, love, and live
That's a lot to do, and it'll probably require much more than 2000 nectar taps. But that's the honey, and I've got to get it somehow. Honey doesn't make itself, you know.
Also, Happy 4th of July!!!
Saturday, June 30, 2012
10 Months: June: Recap
So! Today is June 30th. Obviously. Month 1 of 10 completed. Wow. I can't believe it. It's really gone by fast. How time flies! While today ends the month of focus on purity, the yearning for a continually pure heart and soul will not. Tomorrow begins the focus on humility, and among other things, will include the addition of the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin. A HUGE thank you and shout out to "Mrs. Sally" for giving me her very own copy of it so that I could grow closer to Our Mother and to Christ. It really meant so much to me, and I will never forget her kindness and support. ♥
Now! Recap!
I think I've definitely learned A LOT. Basically, here's a list:
Have I become a better person? I'll let those people around me (and God!) be the ultimate judges of that, but I think I have. I look at who I was in May, and I look at who I am now, and it's mind bottling. Have I really changed that much? I cannot wait to see who I am in April!
As I said, tomorrow begins my focus on humility. Which will definitely be interesting, because my 16th birthday is in July! It will also begin the untimely arrival of my decision to decide to start waking up at 9am in order to start getting back in gear for school, which reminds me, I have summer reading to complete. Yikes!
A tremendous thank you to everyone reading, supporting, and teaching me. I couldn't do it without you all. :)
Now! Recap!
I think I've definitely learned A LOT. Basically, here's a list:
- a deeper realization that God loves us
- Our Mother cares for us, too. She is Our Mother, after all!
- Purity is not just of the body, but also the heart, soul, mind, and mouth.
- the Brown Scapular is amazing
- a deeper love for God and for Our Mother
- the book of Tobit is fantastic
- God speaks in many ways
- listening helps
- Trust God. He's got this.
Have I become a better person? I'll let those people around me (and God!) be the ultimate judges of that, but I think I have. I look at who I was in May, and I look at who I am now, and it's mind bottling. Have I really changed that much? I cannot wait to see who I am in April!
As I said, tomorrow begins my focus on humility. Which will definitely be interesting, because my 16th birthday is in July! It will also begin the untimely arrival of my decision to decide to start waking up at 9am in order to start getting back in gear for school, which reminds me, I have summer reading to complete. Yikes!
A tremendous thank you to everyone reading, supporting, and teaching me. I couldn't do it without you all. :)
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