Re-Reading Dante
I got inspired the other night at the church book discussion, and went out and started re-reading Dante.
I MISSED SO MUCH the first time through!!!
My margins are now almost filled with notes, and I was able to track some very interesting things: 1. motion, 2. the relationship between Dante and Virgil, and 3. the times when someone looks upwards. Very interesting things there! Next time I'm going to track: 1. when Dante steps out to speak to a soul, and why, and what Virgil's response is, and 2. when music is present.
So far I still like reading the Sayers translation, even though it can be awkward, because I know that she's sacrficing style and readability for philosophical accuracy. I read Inferno in the Pinsky translation, and liked it a lot; he mentioned in his notes that he was going more for the feel of Dante. So I'm trying to get the best of both worlds.
And now I cry anytime I hear Loreena McKennitt sing "Dante's Prayer"
Saturday, September 17
Tuesday, September 13
viewphoto
See, I'm not camera shy ALL the time...just any times when I don't have something to hide behind....
SO MUCH BETTER
Why?
Because I went to a book discussion group last night. It was a gathering of some of the coolest people from my church, and we all discussed the first 14 cantos of Dante's Inferno.
It felt SO GOOD to be discussing a hard book again! It wasn't particularly intense; sort of like yoga for the mind. Stretches you a bit, but there's no danger of overexerting yourself.
Plus, to be there with these wonderful people, being able to open up to one another, and talk in literary, historical, theological, and artistic terms...Ah! It was great!!
I love my church. Where else could I be accepted as an artist, challenged to be as orthodox as possible, and discuss Dante, all in one night?
Why?
Because I went to a book discussion group last night. It was a gathering of some of the coolest people from my church, and we all discussed the first 14 cantos of Dante's Inferno.
It felt SO GOOD to be discussing a hard book again! It wasn't particularly intense; sort of like yoga for the mind. Stretches you a bit, but there's no danger of overexerting yourself.
Plus, to be there with these wonderful people, being able to open up to one another, and talk in literary, historical, theological, and artistic terms...Ah! It was great!!
I love my church. Where else could I be accepted as an artist, challenged to be as orthodox as possible, and discuss Dante, all in one night?
Saturday, September 10
You ever get so frustrated that you just want to spend about 15 minutes swearing loudly?
1. My temp agency is not open during any hours that I am off work to pick up my paycheck.
2. So they mailed it to me.
3. The mail gets to my house about 3pm on Saturdays.
4. My bank closes at 2pm
5. My bank is not open during any hours when I am off work.
6. I have checks, but no-one will take them because my driver's license is out of state.
Conclusion: I'm screwed, money-wise, for another week.
1. My temp agency is not open during any hours that I am off work to pick up my paycheck.
2. So they mailed it to me.
3. The mail gets to my house about 3pm on Saturdays.
4. My bank closes at 2pm
5. My bank is not open during any hours when I am off work.
6. I have checks, but no-one will take them because my driver's license is out of state.
Conclusion: I'm screwed, money-wise, for another week.
Saturday, September 3
Wednesday, August 31
Thursday, August 25
Ok, so I've decided to go ahead and post this one...Please give me your comments on it; so far, most of the people who've read it have cried, which is interesting. I'm less sure of myself on this one, but I think it's a better story than the first one. --Joi
Story II:
So many here now, so many children saved from darkness into light. I still wait for them at the gates: many think that a grand, white-bearded man guards the gates, but it is only my husband and myself. We wait for ourchildren to arrive, and now, instead of grieving for those who join us, we rejoice, and welcome them with tears of joy. But still...before, in the shadows, all of our children came, and if we grieved for their presence, at least we saw them. But now we see only some: we are told that the others fall into shadow still.
I do not weep for them: I understand that children must be free to choose. But oh, is there a mother whose heart is not pierced when her children choose their own destruction?
And one day--though all times are one--the last of my children came. I welcomed them with open arms and tears of joy--these I am free to weep over-- and my husband and I begged their pardon. All was joy and gladness, and yet...I still thought of the ones--my babies!--still in shadow.
Then I was called. "The Mother awaits you in the Garden," I was told. But how can this be, since I am The Mother, and the Garden was forever closed to me? But here, to be asked is to do, and so I came to the Garden Wall. He still stood there, sword aflame, but now the fire purified and gave life instead of taking it away.
I entered, still dripping flame perhaps, and sought her in the cool of the day. She stood there between the trees, and I came before my Queen, bowing. "My Lady, " I said. Her hand caressed my once-withered cheek, and drew my face up to meet hers. She kissed me on both cheeks, throwing her blue-robed arms around my neck. "Welcome, dearest Mother and Daughter! Enter into your happiness!"
I looked at her, knowing her to be one of my children--after all, they all are. But in her eyes, I saw the Son, and knew her to be my Mother, as well as Daughter. Laughter, the laughter that spills out from extravagant grace, welled up in me. "Blessed are we among women, for we are both Daughter and Mother!"We laughed together, the stars in her crown twinkling merrily. "And all generations shall call us blessed, dear one."
She pulled my head onto her shoulder, and placed an arm around me, much as I had done to comfort my sons when they were small. "I know you,Mother-Daughter," she said, "for we have much the same heart." She pulled back a fold of blue, revealing a heart pierced with seven wounds as red as rubies, and shining with the rays of the sun--no, brighter than the sun's rays. "Dearest Mother-Daughter, I too have had a child who willed Himself to destruction. He went like a lamb to the slaughter, setting His heart towards death."
A tear like a crystal ocean fell onto her robe, andanother splashed my own cheek, and I tasted its sweetness. "I held the body of my Son, his blood staining my clothes deepest red. And it is through that body and that blood that you and your children have been freed." I remembered the body and blood of my son, of all my sons, and wept tears to match hers. But here, any tear that can be wept is one born of grace and joy, and such were ours. "And another gracious mystery is here, dear one," she whispered in my ear."Through that body and that blood, you and I are not onlyMother-Daughter." I looked up and saw her eyes sparkling like stars. "My Son has brought all into His family, and we are all children of His Father." I saw, and we fell into each other's embrace, whispering: "Sister!"
Copyright 2005. Elizabeth J. Weaver
Story II:
So many here now, so many children saved from darkness into light. I still wait for them at the gates: many think that a grand, white-bearded man guards the gates, but it is only my husband and myself. We wait for ourchildren to arrive, and now, instead of grieving for those who join us, we rejoice, and welcome them with tears of joy. But still...before, in the shadows, all of our children came, and if we grieved for their presence, at least we saw them. But now we see only some: we are told that the others fall into shadow still.
I do not weep for them: I understand that children must be free to choose. But oh, is there a mother whose heart is not pierced when her children choose their own destruction?
And one day--though all times are one--the last of my children came. I welcomed them with open arms and tears of joy--these I am free to weep over-- and my husband and I begged their pardon. All was joy and gladness, and yet...I still thought of the ones--my babies!--still in shadow.
Then I was called. "The Mother awaits you in the Garden," I was told. But how can this be, since I am The Mother, and the Garden was forever closed to me? But here, to be asked is to do, and so I came to the Garden Wall. He still stood there, sword aflame, but now the fire purified and gave life instead of taking it away.
I entered, still dripping flame perhaps, and sought her in the cool of the day. She stood there between the trees, and I came before my Queen, bowing. "My Lady, " I said. Her hand caressed my once-withered cheek, and drew my face up to meet hers. She kissed me on both cheeks, throwing her blue-robed arms around my neck. "Welcome, dearest Mother and Daughter! Enter into your happiness!"
I looked at her, knowing her to be one of my children--after all, they all are. But in her eyes, I saw the Son, and knew her to be my Mother, as well as Daughter. Laughter, the laughter that spills out from extravagant grace, welled up in me. "Blessed are we among women, for we are both Daughter and Mother!"We laughed together, the stars in her crown twinkling merrily. "And all generations shall call us blessed, dear one."
She pulled my head onto her shoulder, and placed an arm around me, much as I had done to comfort my sons when they were small. "I know you,Mother-Daughter," she said, "for we have much the same heart." She pulled back a fold of blue, revealing a heart pierced with seven wounds as red as rubies, and shining with the rays of the sun--no, brighter than the sun's rays. "Dearest Mother-Daughter, I too have had a child who willed Himself to destruction. He went like a lamb to the slaughter, setting His heart towards death."
A tear like a crystal ocean fell onto her robe, andanother splashed my own cheek, and I tasted its sweetness. "I held the body of my Son, his blood staining my clothes deepest red. And it is through that body and that blood that you and your children have been freed." I remembered the body and blood of my son, of all my sons, and wept tears to match hers. But here, any tear that can be wept is one born of grace and joy, and such were ours. "And another gracious mystery is here, dear one," she whispered in my ear."Through that body and that blood, you and I are not onlyMother-Daughter." I looked up and saw her eyes sparkling like stars. "My Son has brought all into His family, and we are all children of His Father." I saw, and we fell into each other's embrace, whispering: "Sister!"
Copyright 2005. Elizabeth J. Weaver
Wednesday, August 24
Ok, so I had an idea for a book, of sorts. Not a single storyline, but lots of storylines together. Anyone who knows my love of short stories will not be surprised by this. :)
Here's the first in the series. I have another one, but I'm waiting for some critiques on it before I post it anywhere public.
Eve: Story I
They say that there are some mothers who do not--even cannot-- love their children. Perhaps they are right, but I cannot fathom it. I am a mother, The Mother, and I love all my children. I watch them, every single one, as they enter here. Some see me, and wonder about the Grey One, who watches from the shadows, and wonder for whom she is searching, for whom she weeps.
But ah, I weep for all my sons, all my daughters. Not because I have lost them: oh no, if they had escaped me, I should be glad. But one by one, all join me here. And it is not grief enough that they join me in the shadows, but I must know that I brought them here. Brought them into life, and sealed their fate, to end here.
Oh, but I cannot help loving them, even the worst, the most rebellious. See that one? He killed his brother, then ran from home. This one was a prostitute, and brought her city to ruin. He, the lovely one over there, he did not love his own wife, slept with the wife of another man, then had that man killed. Yet, in spite of that, his heart was pure. My boy, my beautiful boy.
Yet, for all that I love them, all of them have broken my heart. I am sometimes amazed that it is still so prone to pain. After all, it must be in so many pieces by now that there is nothing left to break! But perhaps it is only justice: after all, it is I who broke their hearts, their souls, their bodies. Mea culpa, domine, mea culpa!
But one day--though all time is one here--there came one...my son, my beautiful son, though all my sons are beautiful to me. And though he was only one of many who noted my tears, he did not pass by in puzzlement, but stopped. He was shrouded, as they all are, in grey cloth and ashes. But as he neared, his eyes caught my own...I remember my first glimpse of the young sun, leaping up the sky for joy. My eyes were innocent then, and could behold his glory. but even the gold of the king of the heavens could not match the golden heat in the eyes of my son. I could not look away and could not but be consumed by his gaze.
I felt the rough cloth of his shroud wiping the constant tears from ym eyes, and a whisper: " Peace, Mother, I have come for you. Now is not my time, I must conquer first. Peace, Mother, and wait." I did not see him leave--my eyes were full of light and I saw nothing, not even shadows. So I waited.
Two days after--though all times are one--I heard a roar like none I had ever heard. One dead and clothed in the shroud of death had entered into the deepest shhadow, and there revealed himself to be a living man. Heavy with life, he was, and the light of him cast all else into shadow.
He split the depths, and came out a conqueror, his shroud turned into a banner of vistory. And he came, leading my husband by the hand, and our children--my babies!-- following behind. He saw me there, waiting for him, and smiled. "Woman," he said, "Now is my time. Come forth, for the Son calls you into the light."
I took the hand of my son, my beautiful boy who had escaped the Mother's curse, and stepped forth with him, blinking back tears at the light in my eyes.
Here's the first in the series. I have another one, but I'm waiting for some critiques on it before I post it anywhere public.
Eve: Story I
They say that there are some mothers who do not--even cannot-- love their children. Perhaps they are right, but I cannot fathom it. I am a mother, The Mother, and I love all my children. I watch them, every single one, as they enter here. Some see me, and wonder about the Grey One, who watches from the shadows, and wonder for whom she is searching, for whom she weeps.
But ah, I weep for all my sons, all my daughters. Not because I have lost them: oh no, if they had escaped me, I should be glad. But one by one, all join me here. And it is not grief enough that they join me in the shadows, but I must know that I brought them here. Brought them into life, and sealed their fate, to end here.
Oh, but I cannot help loving them, even the worst, the most rebellious. See that one? He killed his brother, then ran from home. This one was a prostitute, and brought her city to ruin. He, the lovely one over there, he did not love his own wife, slept with the wife of another man, then had that man killed. Yet, in spite of that, his heart was pure. My boy, my beautiful boy.
Yet, for all that I love them, all of them have broken my heart. I am sometimes amazed that it is still so prone to pain. After all, it must be in so many pieces by now that there is nothing left to break! But perhaps it is only justice: after all, it is I who broke their hearts, their souls, their bodies. Mea culpa, domine, mea culpa!
But one day--though all time is one here--there came one...my son, my beautiful son, though all my sons are beautiful to me. And though he was only one of many who noted my tears, he did not pass by in puzzlement, but stopped. He was shrouded, as they all are, in grey cloth and ashes. But as he neared, his eyes caught my own...I remember my first glimpse of the young sun, leaping up the sky for joy. My eyes were innocent then, and could behold his glory. but even the gold of the king of the heavens could not match the golden heat in the eyes of my son. I could not look away and could not but be consumed by his gaze.
I felt the rough cloth of his shroud wiping the constant tears from ym eyes, and a whisper: " Peace, Mother, I have come for you. Now is not my time, I must conquer first. Peace, Mother, and wait." I did not see him leave--my eyes were full of light and I saw nothing, not even shadows. So I waited.
Two days after--though all times are one--I heard a roar like none I had ever heard. One dead and clothed in the shroud of death had entered into the deepest shhadow, and there revealed himself to be a living man. Heavy with life, he was, and the light of him cast all else into shadow.
He split the depths, and came out a conqueror, his shroud turned into a banner of vistory. And he came, leading my husband by the hand, and our children--my babies!-- following behind. He saw me there, waiting for him, and smiled. "Woman," he said, "Now is my time. Come forth, for the Son calls you into the light."
I took the hand of my son, my beautiful boy who had escaped the Mother's curse, and stepped forth with him, blinking back tears at the light in my eyes.
Tuesday, August 23
Friday, August 19
DESOLATE
I finally came up with the perfect word to describe how I feel right now. "Depressed" is the wrong word: too emotional, and I'm emotionally drained. "Empty" is too simplistic. Desolate is just exactly right.
(BTW, to any family members reading this: NO, I don't want to talk about it.)
I was born a giving person. I always have been. But what do you do when what you have to give is not wanted, and every time you open your heart up, it gets thrown back in your face? If I don't give, I wither away, because it's part of who I am. But I'm tired of being hurt unproductively (I can take productive hurt all day long) every time I try.
I finally came up with the perfect word to describe how I feel right now. "Depressed" is the wrong word: too emotional, and I'm emotionally drained. "Empty" is too simplistic. Desolate is just exactly right.
(BTW, to any family members reading this: NO, I don't want to talk about it.)
I was born a giving person. I always have been. But what do you do when what you have to give is not wanted, and every time you open your heart up, it gets thrown back in your face? If I don't give, I wither away, because it's part of who I am. But I'm tired of being hurt unproductively (I can take productive hurt all day long) every time I try.
Saturday, July 30
This one is FRIGHTENINGLY ACCURATE:
Your Birthdate: July 16 |
Your birth on the 16th day of the month gives a sense of loneliness and generally the desire to work alone. You are relatively inflexible, and insist on your being independent. You need a good deal of time to rest and to meditate. You are introspective and a little stubborn. Because of this, it may not be easy for you to maintain permanent relationships, but you probably will as you are very much into home and family. This birth day inclines to interests in the technical, the scientific, and to the religious or the unknown realm of spiritual explorations. The date gives you a tendency to seek unusual approaches and makes your style seem a little different and unique to those around you. Your intuition is aided by the day of your birth, but most of your actions are bedded in logic, responsibility, and the rational approach. You may be emotional, but have a hard time expressing these emotions. Because of this, there may be some difficulty in giving or receiving affection. |
What'>http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbirthdatemeanquiz/">What Does Your Birth Date Mean?
Friday, July 29
A Live Coal in the Sea
I have been a fan of Madeleine L'Engle's since the moment I read the first sentence of Wrinkle in Time ("It was a dark and stormy night."), when I was about 10. I have read almost every book of hers I could get my hands on, and she has influenced my life and thought more than probably any other author.
So, when I was browsing in the library, and saw A Live Coal in the Sea, I decided to check it out. I was delighted to find, from reading the inner flap, that it concerned Camilla Dickinson, the heroine of an earlier L'engle book (Camilla: and be sure to read Camilla before Live Coal: otherwise the characters are a little harder to get used to. Camilla is a short, easy read). I began reading the book one night, thinking to start it and read until I got sleepy, then finish it in the morning.
I finished it, wiping away tears, at 2:30 am.
L'Engle is a powerful writer, but she is rarely in such amazing form. I don't think I have ever seen a clearer portrait of the grief that one person's selfishness and sin can cause to a family over several generations, nor a clearer picture of the grace and mercy of God in transforming such a situation.
The title comes from a quote from a source whose name I do not remember: “All the evil that man has ever conceived or done is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal to the sea.”
Selah.
I have been a fan of Madeleine L'Engle's since the moment I read the first sentence of Wrinkle in Time ("It was a dark and stormy night."), when I was about 10. I have read almost every book of hers I could get my hands on, and she has influenced my life and thought more than probably any other author.
So, when I was browsing in the library, and saw A Live Coal in the Sea, I decided to check it out. I was delighted to find, from reading the inner flap, that it concerned Camilla Dickinson, the heroine of an earlier L'engle book (Camilla: and be sure to read Camilla before Live Coal: otherwise the characters are a little harder to get used to. Camilla is a short, easy read). I began reading the book one night, thinking to start it and read until I got sleepy, then finish it in the morning.
I finished it, wiping away tears, at 2:30 am.
L'Engle is a powerful writer, but she is rarely in such amazing form. I don't think I have ever seen a clearer portrait of the grief that one person's selfishness and sin can cause to a family over several generations, nor a clearer picture of the grace and mercy of God in transforming such a situation.
The title comes from a quote from a source whose name I do not remember: “All the evil that man has ever conceived or done is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal to the sea.”
Selah.
Wednesday, July 20
Friday, June 24
STING - Brand new day - Front
Watching Music Videos at Work
Hooray for little free music video sites that let me listen to musc at work!
However, I've discovered that for some videos, I just have to stop work and watch. 2 in particular:
1. enya's Carribbean Blue. Just a lovely video.
2. Sting's "Desert Rose" because Sting is really hot. And I don't normally say that. But he is. Check out the posted photo for proof of this fact.
Yep.
Just a random thought.
Hooray for little free music video sites that let me listen to musc at work!
However, I've discovered that for some videos, I just have to stop work and watch. 2 in particular:
1. enya's Carribbean Blue. Just a lovely video.
2. Sting's "Desert Rose" because Sting is really hot. And I don't normally say that. But he is. Check out the posted photo for proof of this fact.
Yep.
Just a random thought.
Tuesday, June 21
The Most Discouraging Thing in the World:
Going home after a day of staring at the computer screen in your temp job, realizing that your apartment has lost any sense of "home," eating week-old leftovers for dinner with only your former roommate's sleepy hamster for company. Then add packing up all your stuff even though you really have nowhere to go, and the radio starting to play U2's "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own."
Yeah. It's been a great day.
Going home after a day of staring at the computer screen in your temp job, realizing that your apartment has lost any sense of "home," eating week-old leftovers for dinner with only your former roommate's sleepy hamster for company. Then add packing up all your stuff even though you really have nowhere to go, and the radio starting to play U2's "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own."
Yeah. It's been a great day.
|  | ||||
| |
Sunday, June 19
Thursday, June 16
 | You scored as Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan. You are an evangelical in the Wesleyan tradition. You believe that God's grace enables you to choose to believe in him, even though you yourself are totally depraved. The gift of the Holy Spirit gives you assurance of your salvation, and he also enables you to live the life of obedience to which God has called us. You are influenced heavly by John Wesley and the Methodists.
I find it funny that those three are my top scores....I mean, Wesleyan, Orthodox, and Catholic? That's funny. |
Tuesday, May 31
Memorial Day
My Memorial Day was great. Very ordinary, but lots of fun. Got a call from a friend at 9am to join him at Denny's for coffee and ice cream, so I hopped in the car and got there around 10. We chatted for awhile, simply being silly, then headed back to his house and played with the cat for a few minutes and watered the yard before hanging out by the pool for several hours. Eventually we managed to pry ourselves away long enough to head to the grocery store where we bought a feast: hot dog buns, weiners, and chipotyle mustard. We went back to lounging around the pool for awhile longer, waiting for the grill to heat up, and ate lunch around 4. We finally went inside, because I got sunburned rather badly, and talked there for awhile. Went back outside to watch the sunset, played guitar, and talked. Watched the stars come out till about 10:30. Saw a shooting star, a satellite, and what might have been a military aircraft. Both got sleepy, so I went home around 10:45.
Very nice ordinary relaxing day. Thanks be to God for good friends!
My Memorial Day was great. Very ordinary, but lots of fun. Got a call from a friend at 9am to join him at Denny's for coffee and ice cream, so I hopped in the car and got there around 10. We chatted for awhile, simply being silly, then headed back to his house and played with the cat for a few minutes and watered the yard before hanging out by the pool for several hours. Eventually we managed to pry ourselves away long enough to head to the grocery store where we bought a feast: hot dog buns, weiners, and chipotyle mustard. We went back to lounging around the pool for awhile longer, waiting for the grill to heat up, and ate lunch around 4. We finally went inside, because I got sunburned rather badly, and talked there for awhile. Went back outside to watch the sunset, played guitar, and talked. Watched the stars come out till about 10:30. Saw a shooting star, a satellite, and what might have been a military aircraft. Both got sleepy, so I went home around 10:45.
Very nice ordinary relaxing day. Thanks be to God for good friends!
Tuesday, May 24
Sunday, May 22
Thursday, May 5
Stolen from Liz's blog, who stole it from K. White, who stole it from.....You get the idea. I also stole some of the answers from Liz because they were good answers, and I'm just lazy like that.
100 questions
1. Full Name: If you don't know this, and you're reading my blog, I'm not telling you
2. Nick name: Joi, Joy-to-the-Weaver, Joyful, Hey You
4. Place of Birth: Fort Worth, Texas
5. Zodiac Sign: Cancer
6. Male or Female: guess
7. Grade: A
8. School: Biola
9. Occupation: cashier, research assistant, librarian
10. Location: Los Angeles, baby!
11. Screen Names: B8tsyJoi, tinidril_of_perelandra, Lone Jedi
__YOUR APPEARANCE___
12. Hair Color: um..hair-colored hair...Not sure what you'd call this.
13. Hair Length: almost to my waist. Woo! Just a few more feet to go!
14. Eye Color: Even my optometrist cannot answer this. Grayish-greenish-blue.
15. What eye color would you want: purple. But I'm kinda starting to really like the current color of my eyes.
16. Height: 5'6"?
17. What height would you rather be: I like my height, actually. I can reach most top shelves, but most guys are still taller than me. A happy medium.
18. Shoe Size: What are these "shoes" of which you speak?
19. Braces: nope
20. Glasses: When I'm not wearing my contacts
21. Piercings: ears
22. Tattoos: I have an allergy to metal, and possibly to ink as well. Not going to risk it. Besides, I'd get bored with an unchangeable design. It's all about the henna, baby.
23. Righty or Lefty: Mostly righty, but my left hand is pretty talented.
___YOUR FiRSTS___
24. What was the question? I don't know, but I'm sure the answer was 42!
((Where did question 25 go?))
26. First best friend: Probably the kid next door in Ft. Worth. I've forgotten his name...Shane, I think?
27. First Award: For best Bible memory, in VBS, when I was about 5. Wow. That was a while back.
28. First Sport You Joined: archery
29. First Pet: a very tolerant black and white cat
30. First Vacation: not a clue.
31. First Concert: Oh gosh, do I have to admit it? Carman. Yeah. Well, depends on what kind of concert you mean. Our town sponsored Community Concerts with unknown artists, and I went to lots of those as a kid.
32. First Love: see #26.
___ FAVORITES___
33. Movie: I can't pick just one!!! But if I had to....yeesh...Maybe Lord of the Rings? Maybe?
34. TV Show: Tough call between Firefly, Babylon 5, Futurama, the Simpsons, King of the Hill, Stargate, and Alias.
35. Color: the richest purple imaginable
36. Bands: Five Iron Frenzy, Leftover Salmon, Nickelback, Horustorus, getting to like Blind Guardian
37. Song: ?? Just one?? not a chance. (current favorite might be We Used to Be Friends, by the Dandy Warhols)
38. Food: dunno
39. Drink: dunno
40. Candy: yeesh, specializaton is for insects! Vive Variety!
41. Sport To Play: archery
42. Sport To Watch: baseball
43. Brand Of Clothing: Joi Weaver originals
44. Store: Art Supply Warehouse. Or Borders. Or Savers
45. School Subject: depends on the specific class and the teacher. Torrey in general, I guess...Classics.
46. Animal: Dragon and unicorn!
47. Book: Not a chance in hell of me picking just one. Not even within a genre. Not even a favorite genre!
___CURRENTLY___
49. Eating: Nothing. The librarians would shoot me.
50. Drinking: Nothing. See above.
51. Typing: umm........
53. Listening To: Joy to the World, by Three Dog Night ( *busts out singing* "Jeremiah was a bullfrog!")
54. Thinking About: Um...How many skips I have left on Launchcast radio at the moment....
55. Wanting To: SLEEP
56. Watching: my cursor move across the screen as I type this
57. Wearing: Don't you wish you knew! (Black tank top, black "goth sleeves", long green swishy skirt made from a tablecloth, black slip-on shoes, burgundy squashy hat)
___YOUR FUTURE___
58. Want Kids: maybe
59. Want to Get Married: I'm fine with either getting married or being single
60. Careers in Mind: research assistant
__WHiCH iS BETTER WiTH THE OPPOSiTE SEX___
67. Cute or Sexy: Cute.
68. Lips or Eyes: eyes
69. Hugs or Kisses: Again, what's with this having to choose??
70. Short or Tall: Tall. Short people have WAY too much energy
71. Easygoing or serious: both
72. Romantic or Spontaneous: Yes
73. Fatty or Skinny: I don't much care, but I seem to fall for skinny geeks quite a bit.
74. Sensitive or Loud: Who says the two are mutually exclusive?
75. Hook-up or Relationship: relationship
76. Sweet or Caring: caring
77. Trouble Maker or Hesitant One: Both.
___HAVE YOU EVER___
78. Kissed a Stranger: no
79. Drank Alcohol: yes
80. Smoked: nope
81. Ran Away From Home: nope
82. Broken a Bone: no
83. Got an X-ray: several times, for my teeth
84. Broke Up With Someone: no
85. Broken Someone's Heart: not that I know of
86. Turned Someone Down: nope
87. Cried When Someone Died: I think so....
88. Cried At School: yes
___DO YOU BELIEVE IN___
89. God: yes
90. Miracles: yes
91. Love At First Sight: that's a little more complex...I think so...
92. Ghosts: Sort of
93. Aliens: Yes, actually.
94. Soul Mates: um...not sure...lots of little red Symposium flags go up when I hear the term....
95. Heaven: yes
96. Hell: yes
98. Kissing on The First Date: ???? How is this a thing to believe in????
99. Horoscopes: nope, but they're a hoot to read!
___ANSWER TRUTHFULLY___
100. Is There Someone You Want Right Now But Cant Have? Um...Don't know about "can't," per se.....
100 questions
1. Full Name: If you don't know this, and you're reading my blog, I'm not telling you
2. Nick name: Joi, Joy-to-the-Weaver, Joyful, Hey You
4. Place of Birth: Fort Worth, Texas
5. Zodiac Sign: Cancer
6. Male or Female: guess
7. Grade: A
8. School: Biola
9. Occupation: cashier, research assistant, librarian
10. Location: Los Angeles, baby!
11. Screen Names: B8tsyJoi, tinidril_of_perelandra, Lone Jedi
__YOUR APPEARANCE___
12. Hair Color: um..hair-colored hair...Not sure what you'd call this.
13. Hair Length: almost to my waist. Woo! Just a few more feet to go!
14. Eye Color: Even my optometrist cannot answer this. Grayish-greenish-blue.
15. What eye color would you want: purple. But I'm kinda starting to really like the current color of my eyes.
16. Height: 5'6"?
17. What height would you rather be: I like my height, actually. I can reach most top shelves, but most guys are still taller than me. A happy medium.
18. Shoe Size: What are these "shoes" of which you speak?
19. Braces: nope
20. Glasses: When I'm not wearing my contacts
21. Piercings: ears
22. Tattoos: I have an allergy to metal, and possibly to ink as well. Not going to risk it. Besides, I'd get bored with an unchangeable design. It's all about the henna, baby.
23. Righty or Lefty: Mostly righty, but my left hand is pretty talented.
___YOUR FiRSTS___
24. What was the question? I don't know, but I'm sure the answer was 42!
((Where did question 25 go?))
26. First best friend: Probably the kid next door in Ft. Worth. I've forgotten his name...Shane, I think?
27. First Award: For best Bible memory, in VBS, when I was about 5. Wow. That was a while back.
28. First Sport You Joined: archery
29. First Pet: a very tolerant black and white cat
30. First Vacation: not a clue.
31. First Concert: Oh gosh, do I have to admit it? Carman. Yeah. Well, depends on what kind of concert you mean. Our town sponsored Community Concerts with unknown artists, and I went to lots of those as a kid.
32. First Love: see #26.
___ FAVORITES___
33. Movie: I can't pick just one!!! But if I had to....yeesh...Maybe Lord of the Rings? Maybe?
34. TV Show: Tough call between Firefly, Babylon 5, Futurama, the Simpsons, King of the Hill, Stargate, and Alias.
35. Color: the richest purple imaginable
36. Bands: Five Iron Frenzy, Leftover Salmon, Nickelback, Horustorus, getting to like Blind Guardian
37. Song: ?? Just one?? not a chance. (current favorite might be We Used to Be Friends, by the Dandy Warhols)
38. Food: dunno
39. Drink: dunno
40. Candy: yeesh, specializaton is for insects! Vive Variety!
41. Sport To Play: archery
42. Sport To Watch: baseball
43. Brand Of Clothing: Joi Weaver originals
44. Store: Art Supply Warehouse. Or Borders. Or Savers
45. School Subject: depends on the specific class and the teacher. Torrey in general, I guess...Classics.
46. Animal: Dragon and unicorn!
47. Book: Not a chance in hell of me picking just one. Not even within a genre. Not even a favorite genre!
___CURRENTLY___
49. Eating: Nothing. The librarians would shoot me.
50. Drinking: Nothing. See above.
51. Typing: umm........
53. Listening To: Joy to the World, by Three Dog Night ( *busts out singing* "Jeremiah was a bullfrog!")
54. Thinking About: Um...How many skips I have left on Launchcast radio at the moment....
55. Wanting To: SLEEP
56. Watching: my cursor move across the screen as I type this
57. Wearing: Don't you wish you knew! (Black tank top, black "goth sleeves", long green swishy skirt made from a tablecloth, black slip-on shoes, burgundy squashy hat)
___YOUR FUTURE___
58. Want Kids: maybe
59. Want to Get Married: I'm fine with either getting married or being single
60. Careers in Mind: research assistant
__WHiCH iS BETTER WiTH THE OPPOSiTE SEX___
67. Cute or Sexy: Cute.
68. Lips or Eyes: eyes
69. Hugs or Kisses: Again, what's with this having to choose??
70. Short or Tall: Tall. Short people have WAY too much energy
71. Easygoing or serious: both
72. Romantic or Spontaneous: Yes
73. Fatty or Skinny: I don't much care, but I seem to fall for skinny geeks quite a bit.
74. Sensitive or Loud: Who says the two are mutually exclusive?
75. Hook-up or Relationship: relationship
76. Sweet or Caring: caring
77. Trouble Maker or Hesitant One: Both.
___HAVE YOU EVER___
78. Kissed a Stranger: no
79. Drank Alcohol: yes
80. Smoked: nope
81. Ran Away From Home: nope
82. Broken a Bone: no
83. Got an X-ray: several times, for my teeth
84. Broke Up With Someone: no
85. Broken Someone's Heart: not that I know of
86. Turned Someone Down: nope
87. Cried When Someone Died: I think so....
88. Cried At School: yes
___DO YOU BELIEVE IN___
89. God: yes
90. Miracles: yes
91. Love At First Sight: that's a little more complex...I think so...
92. Ghosts: Sort of
93. Aliens: Yes, actually.
94. Soul Mates: um...not sure...lots of little red Symposium flags go up when I hear the term....
95. Heaven: yes
96. Hell: yes
98. Kissing on The First Date: ???? How is this a thing to believe in????
99. Horoscopes: nope, but they're a hoot to read!
___ANSWER TRUTHFULLY___
100. Is There Someone You Want Right Now But Cant Have? Um...Don't know about "can't," per se.....
Wednesday, May 4
And here we go again...
Yeah, still dealing with my friends leaving. Some days I do ok with it, some days not so much so. But it was a good bit of comfort to discuss it with my spiritual director the other day. While talking with her, I finally grew convinced of something. Even now, it seems weird and prideful to say this, but I think it's true.
I used to think that I shouldn't have abandonment issues, since my parents never divorced and my mom stayed at home with myself and my sister. Usually it's kids whose parents have split up or worked constantly that have these issues, so I've always assumed I was just kidding myself. But maybe it's healthy to admit that I have these issues, rather than continually denying them, assuming that I shouldn't have them. If I have these issues, then they're there, regardless of how they got there.
I am so tired of friends leaving. They always leave. When I was little, all my friends moved away from Fort Worth; I was the last one to leave. We moved to Hereford, and went to First Baptist church there. I made friends and enjoyed it. Then we started going to another church, and I didn't see my friends after that. My best friend, the pastor's daughter, never spoke to me again. After a few years at the other church, we switched back, and I began to make friends again. The previous church had been terrible, and I was horribly lonely. The youth pastor and his wife at FBC were wonderful people, and did a lot to make me feel welcome. Then, just over a year after moving back to that church, we moved to Dumas, and I lost all my friends over again. I never made too many friends in Dumas, I was too odd, and wasn't particularly acceptable. Of the friends I did make, I rarely speak to any of them.
I came to college and made a new group of friends. Who, for some reason, decided to stop talking to me and including me about 2 years later. So I made another group of friends. Who stabbed me in the back, and decided that I wasn't worth talking to when I wasn't of any use. So I moved to another group of friends, who are all now leaving. They say they'll stay in contact, but I have my doubts. Actually, the doubts are all I have. I simply don't believe that it's true. I've seen what happens to college friendships when you no longer live close by: the other person becomes just a name on a mass-produced Christmas letter that you get in February. If they're an especially good friend, you might see a little hand-written note at the bottom of the mass-produced letter.
Bitter? Yeah, a little. I think what gets to me the most is this: In Torrey, one of the big focuses is community. So everybody learns the importance of community, and blathers about it nonstop, about how they're going to build community in the areas they move to...But no-one stays to preserve the community here. I'm not saying that everyone has to stay--that would be a bit counter-productive. But it seems like no-one stays. And I know that my priorities are different from other people's: the other day, one of my friends mentioned that there's nothing for her here anymore, except church and a few friends. Church and a few friends are my main reasons for staying here, so that reply caught me a little off-guard.
And this post is now far too long, so I'll stop here.
Yeah, still dealing with my friends leaving. Some days I do ok with it, some days not so much so. But it was a good bit of comfort to discuss it with my spiritual director the other day. While talking with her, I finally grew convinced of something. Even now, it seems weird and prideful to say this, but I think it's true.
I used to think that I shouldn't have abandonment issues, since my parents never divorced and my mom stayed at home with myself and my sister. Usually it's kids whose parents have split up or worked constantly that have these issues, so I've always assumed I was just kidding myself. But maybe it's healthy to admit that I have these issues, rather than continually denying them, assuming that I shouldn't have them. If I have these issues, then they're there, regardless of how they got there.
I am so tired of friends leaving. They always leave. When I was little, all my friends moved away from Fort Worth; I was the last one to leave. We moved to Hereford, and went to First Baptist church there. I made friends and enjoyed it. Then we started going to another church, and I didn't see my friends after that. My best friend, the pastor's daughter, never spoke to me again. After a few years at the other church, we switched back, and I began to make friends again. The previous church had been terrible, and I was horribly lonely. The youth pastor and his wife at FBC were wonderful people, and did a lot to make me feel welcome. Then, just over a year after moving back to that church, we moved to Dumas, and I lost all my friends over again. I never made too many friends in Dumas, I was too odd, and wasn't particularly acceptable. Of the friends I did make, I rarely speak to any of them.
I came to college and made a new group of friends. Who, for some reason, decided to stop talking to me and including me about 2 years later. So I made another group of friends. Who stabbed me in the back, and decided that I wasn't worth talking to when I wasn't of any use. So I moved to another group of friends, who are all now leaving. They say they'll stay in contact, but I have my doubts. Actually, the doubts are all I have. I simply don't believe that it's true. I've seen what happens to college friendships when you no longer live close by: the other person becomes just a name on a mass-produced Christmas letter that you get in February. If they're an especially good friend, you might see a little hand-written note at the bottom of the mass-produced letter.
Bitter? Yeah, a little. I think what gets to me the most is this: In Torrey, one of the big focuses is community. So everybody learns the importance of community, and blathers about it nonstop, about how they're going to build community in the areas they move to...But no-one stays to preserve the community here. I'm not saying that everyone has to stay--that would be a bit counter-productive. But it seems like no-one stays. And I know that my priorities are different from other people's: the other day, one of my friends mentioned that there's nothing for her here anymore, except church and a few friends. Church and a few friends are my main reasons for staying here, so that reply caught me a little off-guard.
And this post is now far too long, so I'll stop here.
Thursday, April 28
Wednesday, April 27
More reason for me to find a good job SOON
I have just been invited to spend a week in New York discussing a Plato dialogue with one of the world's most eminent Plato scholars...I REALLY wanna go! It would only cost $250 for airfare, plus a little bit of food. With a job, no problem. Without a job, not gonna happen.
PLEASE pray that my job situation gets settled soon!
I have just been invited to spend a week in New York discussing a Plato dialogue with one of the world's most eminent Plato scholars...I REALLY wanna go! It would only cost $250 for airfare, plus a little bit of food. With a job, no problem. Without a job, not gonna happen.
PLEASE pray that my job situation gets settled soon!
Tuesday, April 26
Friday, April 15
Current mood: tired
Current song to express mood:
I Don't Want to Be, by Gavin Degraw
Current song to express mood:
I Don't Want to Be, by Gavin Degraw
"I don’t need to be anything other than a prison guard’s son
I don’t need to be anything other than a specialist’s son
I don’t have to be anyone other than the birth of two souls in one
Part of where I’m going is knowing where I’m coming from
(Chorus)
I don’t want to be anything other than what I’ve been trying to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and I have peace of mind
I’m tired of looking ‘round rooms wondering what I gotta do
Or who I’m supposed to be
I don’t want to be anything other than me
I’m surrounded by liars everywhere I turn
I’m surrounded by imposters everywhere I turn
I’m surrounded by identity crisis everywhere I turn
Am I the only one to notice?
I can’t be the only one who’s learned
(Chorus)
I don’t want to be anything other than what I’ve been trying to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and I have peace of mind
I’m tired of looking ‘round rooms wondering what I gotta do
Or who I’m supposed to be
I don’t want to be anything other than me
Can I have everyone’s attention please
If you're not like this and that
You’re gonna have to leave
I came from the mountain, the crust of creation
My whole situation made from clay to stone
And now I’m telling everybody
(Chorus)
I don’t want to be anything other than what I’ve been trying to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and I have peace of mind
I’m tired of looking ‘round rooms wondering what I gotta do
Or who I’m supposed to be
I don’t want to be anything other than me
I don’t want to be
I don’t want to be
I don’t want to be
I don’t want to be"
Wednesday, April 6
Hehehehehe. This post on Sharon Ferguson's site made me really happy. Liz, you will get a kick out of this.
(this doesn't seem to have posted properly....let's try again....)
(this doesn't seem to have posted properly....let's try again....)
Wednesday, March 23
A thought:
Do we have "spiritual senses" that correspond to our physical senses? Or are our physical senses deeper than we ever realized? Or are they both one thing that's different from what we usually imagine?
For instance:
I have always envied the people I know who have long conversations with God. My conversations always seem to end up very one-sided, with me desperately trying to listen to God, and never being able to distinguish His voice from all the other floating around in my head.
But then, one day, when I was trying harder than usual to listen, and getting nowhere, I was hit with a very specific thought: I can't hear. I've never heard well. I have a very difficult time listening to classical music because I simply do not distinguish sounds well. It's not that my physical hearing is bad, it's just that my brain isn't wired to process sound very well. With practice, I can attend to music and sound a little better, but it's not natural for me.
But seeing is. I'm very visually acute; symbolic colors and images are very much a second language to me, and I speak it fluently. Almost all of my major communications from God have been in the form of image or story. I have "visual conversations," for lack of a better term, all the time. It's not that God hasn't been telling me things; He has. But He's been silent, because I do not hear well.
So again, do our physical senses correspond to spiritual senses(or metaphysical senses, if you like) ? Are they both part of one thing?
Do we have "spiritual senses" that correspond to our physical senses? Or are our physical senses deeper than we ever realized? Or are they both one thing that's different from what we usually imagine?
For instance:
I have always envied the people I know who have long conversations with God. My conversations always seem to end up very one-sided, with me desperately trying to listen to God, and never being able to distinguish His voice from all the other floating around in my head.
But then, one day, when I was trying harder than usual to listen, and getting nowhere, I was hit with a very specific thought: I can't hear. I've never heard well. I have a very difficult time listening to classical music because I simply do not distinguish sounds well. It's not that my physical hearing is bad, it's just that my brain isn't wired to process sound very well. With practice, I can attend to music and sound a little better, but it's not natural for me.
But seeing is. I'm very visually acute; symbolic colors and images are very much a second language to me, and I speak it fluently. Almost all of my major communications from God have been in the form of image or story. I have "visual conversations," for lack of a better term, all the time. It's not that God hasn't been telling me things; He has. But He's been silent, because I do not hear well.
So again, do our physical senses correspond to spiritual senses(or metaphysical senses, if you like) ? Are they both part of one thing?
Tuesday, March 22
Why did we stop talking to people?
Most people in any given department store won't talk to, or even look at, the janitorial staff, or the stockroom staff.
At my former library job, I'm not sure how many of the student workers took the time to talk to Tony or Richard, the copier repair guys. Did they even know their names?
My roommate, who is in a Figurative Drawing class, tells me that the prof generally doesn't talk to the models and the students rarely hear their names.
In my drawing class, I was fortunate to have a professor who insisted on talking to the models, getting to know them, and encouraging the students to do the same. As a result, we all walked away with a fondness of the models, and a profound respect for them. The prospect of looking at them "objectively" bothers me. Can I actually draw Carlos without caring about his love of photography? Can I protray Erl without smiling at his quirky sense of humor? Can I sketch Donna without knowing her regality and nobility? I might draw the forms accurately, but they will have no soul.
All people carry the Image of God, the Imago Dei. If I refuse to talk to some people just because they have a "lower" job than myself, what bit of the Image am I missing? If I ignore Krissy, I miss a sweetness and openness. If I ignore richard, I miss a pride in work done well and an honesty that is cutting but without malice. If I ignore Christian, I miss a humility and strength. But, most importantly, I miss a person. And no soul is too small to overlook; except, perhaps, those who have withered their own souls in the name of "objectivity."
Most people in any given department store won't talk to, or even look at, the janitorial staff, or the stockroom staff.
At my former library job, I'm not sure how many of the student workers took the time to talk to Tony or Richard, the copier repair guys. Did they even know their names?
My roommate, who is in a Figurative Drawing class, tells me that the prof generally doesn't talk to the models and the students rarely hear their names.
In my drawing class, I was fortunate to have a professor who insisted on talking to the models, getting to know them, and encouraging the students to do the same. As a result, we all walked away with a fondness of the models, and a profound respect for them. The prospect of looking at them "objectively" bothers me. Can I actually draw Carlos without caring about his love of photography? Can I protray Erl without smiling at his quirky sense of humor? Can I sketch Donna without knowing her regality and nobility? I might draw the forms accurately, but they will have no soul.
All people carry the Image of God, the Imago Dei. If I refuse to talk to some people just because they have a "lower" job than myself, what bit of the Image am I missing? If I ignore Krissy, I miss a sweetness and openness. If I ignore richard, I miss a pride in work done well and an honesty that is cutting but without malice. If I ignore Christian, I miss a humility and strength. But, most importantly, I miss a person. And no soul is too small to overlook; except, perhaps, those who have withered their own souls in the name of "objectivity."
Monday, March 21
Hope for Terri Schiavo
I have been remiss in not blogging about this fight. There are several reasons for that, but I won't go into them now.
The important thing is that Terri has hope now. http://www.cnn.com/2005/LAW/03/20/schiavo/index.html
The government is finally fighting to protect one of its own innocent citizens. Mrs. Schiavo has done nothing wrong except getting married to a slimeball who is trying to murder her--despite the fact that her mother is willing and able to care for her--while living with his current girlfriend.
If the government wants to kill one of its citizens, then there's a prime target.
But now there's hope for Terri, and hope for anyone who doesn't want the government--or even their doctor!-- to decide whether they live or die. I hope that I never have to be given "heroic medical treament," and I hope that whoever was with me in that situation would know that I don't support it, and am willing for nature to take its course.
But food and water, even when given through a feeding tube, are not heroic treatment. Would Terri die without the feeding tube? Yes. But anyone would die without food!
I had an acquaintance in childhood who got VERY sick, and had to be on a feeding tube. Just because she couldn't feed herself, should we kill her?
Terri is responsive, and seems to be at least a little bit aware of what is happening to her. But even if she wasn't, who are we to decide that her life is not worth living? She's not in pain, and has people who love her. We can have no judgement about it.
And ultimately, even Terri herself has no right to decide to end her own life. Because the life is not her own, it is a gift. If she cannot give life to herself, then she has no right to throw it away.
But fortunately, it looks like her right to life will be protected. Thanks be to God, someone stepped in and did something.
I have been remiss in not blogging about this fight. There are several reasons for that, but I won't go into them now.
The important thing is that Terri has hope now. http://www.cnn.com/2005/LAW/03/20/schiavo/index.html
The government is finally fighting to protect one of its own innocent citizens. Mrs. Schiavo has done nothing wrong except getting married to a slimeball who is trying to murder her--despite the fact that her mother is willing and able to care for her--while living with his current girlfriend.
If the government wants to kill one of its citizens, then there's a prime target.
But now there's hope for Terri, and hope for anyone who doesn't want the government--or even their doctor!-- to decide whether they live or die. I hope that I never have to be given "heroic medical treament," and I hope that whoever was with me in that situation would know that I don't support it, and am willing for nature to take its course.
But food and water, even when given through a feeding tube, are not heroic treatment. Would Terri die without the feeding tube? Yes. But anyone would die without food!
I had an acquaintance in childhood who got VERY sick, and had to be on a feeding tube. Just because she couldn't feed herself, should we kill her?
Terri is responsive, and seems to be at least a little bit aware of what is happening to her. But even if she wasn't, who are we to decide that her life is not worth living? She's not in pain, and has people who love her. We can have no judgement about it.
And ultimately, even Terri herself has no right to decide to end her own life. Because the life is not her own, it is a gift. If she cannot give life to herself, then she has no right to throw it away.
But fortunately, it looks like her right to life will be protected. Thanks be to God, someone stepped in and did something.
Friday, March 18
| Which poem are you? Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll Oh, you're silly! People probably think you're a bit kooky, but those nuts just don't realize that you've got a language all your own. But hey, you always bring a smile to people's faces.
|
| Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests. |
Thursday, March 17
New Blog!!
www.visiblepersonality.blogspot.com
This is my new blog. It's for all you people out there who are tired of being forced into certain fashion paradigms, and have decided to break out and make your own style, and it's especially for those who LITERALLY make their own style: Yes, my friend, those of you who design and sew your own clothes.
So visit the blog! Let me know what you think!
Also, if someone can help me figure out how to post pictures on it, that'd be great. *sheepish grin* Yeah.
www.visiblepersonality.blogspot.com
This is my new blog. It's for all you people out there who are tired of being forced into certain fashion paradigms, and have decided to break out and make your own style, and it's especially for those who LITERALLY make their own style: Yes, my friend, those of you who design and sew your own clothes.
So visit the blog! Let me know what you think!
Also, if someone can help me figure out how to post pictures on it, that'd be great. *sheepish grin* Yeah.
Thursday, March 10
What Is This Thing of Eatable Goodness??
I.E., Joi had learned how to make homemade pasta, and in doing so has discovered that it's cheaper, tastes better, and is more filling than store-bought pasta. And it's fun to make.
So, if any Biola area people are reading this, and want pasta, just ask: I'll be happy to provide you with a bag of it. Hopefully I'll figure out how to make my own sauce, soon!
I.E., Joi had learned how to make homemade pasta, and in doing so has discovered that it's cheaper, tastes better, and is more filling than store-bought pasta. And it's fun to make.
So, if any Biola area people are reading this, and want pasta, just ask: I'll be happy to provide you with a bag of it. Hopefully I'll figure out how to make my own sauce, soon!
Tuesday, March 8
Wow, it's been a while since I've posted. That's what happens when you're working full-time!
Not much to say at the moment, at least, not stuff I want to go into on a public blog. Some confusing and frustrating stuff, some encouraging stuff...
Oh, and I get to be Clerk for the Vestry at church now. I have a box in the church office and everything!! Very scary, but should be fun. All three of the previous job holders recommended me for the job, so Father David offered it to me. Hard to fight that kind of recommendation! So yeah, I'm on the Vestry now. SCARY!!
Not much to say at the moment, at least, not stuff I want to go into on a public blog. Some confusing and frustrating stuff, some encouraging stuff...
Oh, and I get to be Clerk for the Vestry at church now. I have a box in the church office and everything!! Very scary, but should be fun. All three of the previous job holders recommended me for the job, so Father David offered it to me. Hard to fight that kind of recommendation! So yeah, I'm on the Vestry now. SCARY!!
Wednesday, March 2
Sunday, February 27
About Long Hair
I love my hair. I actually do. I hated it for a long time...until I grew it out. I grew it out due to an abstract principle: "A woman's hair is her glory." I never believed that, until I hung out with a bunch of girls who had long hair. I discovered that no-one noticed your face or body very much when you have really long hair. And long hair really is a glory to a woman. So I grew it out. And I could not be happier.
I love that fact that I have to be careful how I sit so that I don't catch my hair on the back of a chair.
I love that my hair flows over the back of chairs.
I love that I can tuck a bit of my hair into the back of my jeans.
I love the way my hair flows over and around my face when I walk.
I love that people have started to make comments about how long my hair is getting.
I love that I have to learn new ways to treat my hair now that it's in the category of "longer than average" hair.
I love my hair. I actually do. I hated it for a long time...until I grew it out. I grew it out due to an abstract principle: "A woman's hair is her glory." I never believed that, until I hung out with a bunch of girls who had long hair. I discovered that no-one noticed your face or body very much when you have really long hair. And long hair really is a glory to a woman. So I grew it out. And I could not be happier.
I love that fact that I have to be careful how I sit so that I don't catch my hair on the back of a chair.
I love that my hair flows over the back of chairs.
I love that I can tuck a bit of my hair into the back of my jeans.
I love the way my hair flows over and around my face when I walk.
I love that people have started to make comments about how long my hair is getting.
I love that I have to learn new ways to treat my hair now that it's in the category of "longer than average" hair.
Friday, February 18
Now Reviewing...
The End is Here by Five Iron Frenzy.
A little bit of background. FIF is an immensely popular Christian ska band. They recently decided to call it quits, and went on one last tour. The album for the tour was called The End Is Near. It was later packaged with a recording of their last concert in their home town of Denver, and the whole thing is called The End Is Here.
To begin with: I will review all or most of the songs on the End Is Near album, and finish with a review of the End Is Here concert recording. But I'll not do it all at once because long blogposts are annoying.
So. The first song is:
1. Cannonball
Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down, this furious speed will only destroy me.
Crippling and devastating momentum, approaching maximum velocity.
And this is how it's going to be, the point of it all.
'Cause this is what was meant for me, recklessly I fall.
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing, nothing like when I was small.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
That feeble coward that you knew, has undergone an overhaul.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
Thirty-two feet per second I increase, as the exponents will multiply.
I'll never stop to look back behind me, cutting through the bright blue sky.
And this is how it's meant to be, untethered I will soar.
I'll barrel towards the earth below, it's what I was made for.
And everyone will say it's just an accident, like some mishap or a tragedy.
I think that failure has a purpose, and I don't believe it's chance if I fall.
And I know that if I ever do fall, He will catch me.
And if He ever lets me fall down, for the good of those who believe Him,
He will make me into a cannonball.
Unblemished, and faultless. A burning luminescence.
Unequaled precision, beyond your scope of vision.
Cannonball.
Music: Dennis, Leanor and Reese
Words: Reese
A good song musically, though not one of their all-time best. The song deals with the inevitability of failure, and the knowledge that God uses even our falls. It is an acceptance of this knowledge and a willingness to sacrifice self if something can be made of that sacrifice. It's a theme that runs through the whole album: a sadness of sorts at what could be perceived as failure, but the knowledge that this "failure" is really an act of God, working out His plan.
I'm not going to review song 2 on the album, "At Least I'm Not Like All Those Other Old Guys." It's a funny song, and entertaining, but there's not too much to say about it.
3. So Far, So Bad
We thought we'd write a song about all of the problems inherent in the industry,
it was going to be an exposé written in unblemished symmetry.
We were going to have our glorious exit, an admonition and an encore,
we were going to make a point to the whole world, but no one wants to hear it anymore.
Don't worry what this song would say, you'll never hear it anyway.
They won't play this song on the radio, so far, so bad, that's how it goes.
They'll pull our records from the shelves, so far, so bad, that's how it goes.
The rhyme scheme to this song was mostly flawless, it might have made good poetry.
It could have bridged the gap between the classes, and overthrown the bourgeoisie.
It made a couple points about the future, and how the past was kind of uncool,
and if you ever tried to play it backwards, it told the kids to stay in school.
I thought I'd write an epiphany, how something good is changing me, but I guess we dodged some passing fad, it looks like it's so far, so bad. This song is rad. You could ask your dad. He won't be mad. This song is stupid.
Music: Dennis and Reese Words: Reese
This is one of my favorite songs on the album. It's musically interesting, and defies any attempt to restrict it to a certain genre. It's also humorous, because FIF never gets played on Christian radio stations! I have yet to hear one of their songs play on any Christian station. I'm not sure why; maybe the market for ska isn't considered big enough. Who knows?
4. New Years Eve
It's New Years Eve and I'm full of empty promises, I half pretend to keep this time, just like last year.
The band is loud and I'm wandering the shadows, wishing I was never here. I persevere.
A crowded room, these whitewashed tombs,
they raise their glasses high, they kiss the past goodbye.
This New Years Eve, I'm waiting for tomorrow. My heart is on my sleeve, and yes I still believe,
this New Years Eve, will turn out better than before,
I'm holding on, still holding out, until they close the door... on me.
It's New Years Eve and I feel my insecurities, are haunting me like ghosts, this sinking quicksand.
And then with thunderous praise and lofty adoration, a second passes by, yet nothing changes.
I hate my skin, this grave I'm standing in. Another change of years, and I wish I wasn't here.
A year goes by and I'm staring at my watch again,
and I dig deep this time, for something greater than I've ever been, life to ancient wineskins.
And I was blind but now I see.
This New Years Eve, something must change me inside,
I'm crooked and misguided, and tired of being tired.
This New Years Eve, I'm waiting for tomorrow.
My heart is on my sleeve, and yes I still believe, in You.
Music: Dennis and Reese Words: Reese
I didn't like this song much the first time I heard it. I didn't dislike it, I just didn't care. But after listening to it several times, it's become a very meaningful song to me. Let me take a few lines, just to illustrate:
"It's New Years Eve and I'm full of empty promises, I half pretend to keep this time, just like last year.
There's always a bit of a letdown when the new year hits, and nothing feels any different (depending, of course, on how much champagne you've been drinking!). In a way, every second begins a new year, and in the same way, there really are no new years, only new moments that we can use to change in small ways, hoping to become better eventually.
The End is Here by Five Iron Frenzy.
A little bit of background. FIF is an immensely popular Christian ska band. They recently decided to call it quits, and went on one last tour. The album for the tour was called The End Is Near. It was later packaged with a recording of their last concert in their home town of Denver, and the whole thing is called The End Is Here.
To begin with: I will review all or most of the songs on the End Is Near album, and finish with a review of the End Is Here concert recording. But I'll not do it all at once because long blogposts are annoying.
So. The first song is:
1. Cannonball
Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down, this furious speed will only destroy me.
Crippling and devastating momentum, approaching maximum velocity.
And this is how it's going to be, the point of it all.
'Cause this is what was meant for me, recklessly I fall.
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing, nothing like when I was small.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
That feeble coward that you knew, has undergone an overhaul.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
Thirty-two feet per second I increase, as the exponents will multiply.
I'll never stop to look back behind me, cutting through the bright blue sky.
And this is how it's meant to be, untethered I will soar.
I'll barrel towards the earth below, it's what I was made for.
And everyone will say it's just an accident, like some mishap or a tragedy.
I think that failure has a purpose, and I don't believe it's chance if I fall.
And I know that if I ever do fall, He will catch me.
And if He ever lets me fall down, for the good of those who believe Him,
He will make me into a cannonball.
Unblemished, and faultless. A burning luminescence.
Unequaled precision, beyond your scope of vision.
Cannonball.
Music: Dennis, Leanor and Reese
Words: Reese
A good song musically, though not one of their all-time best. The song deals with the inevitability of failure, and the knowledge that God uses even our falls. It is an acceptance of this knowledge and a willingness to sacrifice self if something can be made of that sacrifice. It's a theme that runs through the whole album: a sadness of sorts at what could be perceived as failure, but the knowledge that this "failure" is really an act of God, working out His plan.
I'm not going to review song 2 on the album, "At Least I'm Not Like All Those Other Old Guys." It's a funny song, and entertaining, but there's not too much to say about it.
3. So Far, So Bad
We thought we'd write a song about all of the problems inherent in the industry,
it was going to be an exposé written in unblemished symmetry.
We were going to have our glorious exit, an admonition and an encore,
we were going to make a point to the whole world, but no one wants to hear it anymore.
Don't worry what this song would say, you'll never hear it anyway.
They won't play this song on the radio, so far, so bad, that's how it goes.
They'll pull our records from the shelves, so far, so bad, that's how it goes.
The rhyme scheme to this song was mostly flawless, it might have made good poetry.
It could have bridged the gap between the classes, and overthrown the bourgeoisie.
It made a couple points about the future, and how the past was kind of uncool,
and if you ever tried to play it backwards, it told the kids to stay in school.
I thought I'd write an epiphany, how something good is changing me, but I guess we dodged some passing fad, it looks like it's so far, so bad. This song is rad. You could ask your dad. He won't be mad. This song is stupid.
Music: Dennis and Reese Words: Reese
This is one of my favorite songs on the album. It's musically interesting, and defies any attempt to restrict it to a certain genre. It's also humorous, because FIF never gets played on Christian radio stations! I have yet to hear one of their songs play on any Christian station. I'm not sure why; maybe the market for ska isn't considered big enough. Who knows?
4. New Years Eve
It's New Years Eve and I'm full of empty promises, I half pretend to keep this time, just like last year.
The band is loud and I'm wandering the shadows, wishing I was never here. I persevere.
A crowded room, these whitewashed tombs,
they raise their glasses high, they kiss the past goodbye.
This New Years Eve, I'm waiting for tomorrow. My heart is on my sleeve, and yes I still believe,
this New Years Eve, will turn out better than before,
I'm holding on, still holding out, until they close the door... on me.
It's New Years Eve and I feel my insecurities, are haunting me like ghosts, this sinking quicksand.
And then with thunderous praise and lofty adoration, a second passes by, yet nothing changes.
I hate my skin, this grave I'm standing in. Another change of years, and I wish I wasn't here.
A year goes by and I'm staring at my watch again,
and I dig deep this time, for something greater than I've ever been, life to ancient wineskins.
And I was blind but now I see.
This New Years Eve, something must change me inside,
I'm crooked and misguided, and tired of being tired.
This New Years Eve, I'm waiting for tomorrow.
My heart is on my sleeve, and yes I still believe, in You.
Music: Dennis and Reese Words: Reese
I didn't like this song much the first time I heard it. I didn't dislike it, I just didn't care. But after listening to it several times, it's become a very meaningful song to me. Let me take a few lines, just to illustrate:
"It's New Years Eve and I'm full of empty promises, I half pretend to keep this time, just like last year.
The band is loud and I'm wandering the shadows, wishing I was never here. I persevere.
A crowded room, these whitewashed tombs,
they raise their glasses high, they kiss the past goodbye. "
Naturally, it's better with the music. But even the lyrics alone are powerful. Who hasn't felt this way at some point, watching everyone pretending to start over, and knowing that we'll all still carry our baggage with us? Do we hang on to the past as a lesson, a treasure, or do we ditch it in hopes that we can become better? And is the choice up to us?
"It's New Years Eve and I feel my insecurities, are haunting me like ghosts, this sinking quicksand.
And then with thunderous praise and lofty adoration, a second passes by, yet nothing changes. "
And then with thunderous praise and lofty adoration, a second passes by, yet nothing changes. "
There's always a bit of a letdown when the new year hits, and nothing feels any different (depending, of course, on how much champagne you've been drinking!). In a way, every second begins a new year, and in the same way, there really are no new years, only new moments that we can use to change in small ways, hoping to become better eventually.
" I hate my skin, this grave I'm standing in. Another change of years, and I wish I wasn't here.
A year goes by and I'm staring at my watch again,
and I dig deep this time, for something greater than I've ever been, life to ancient wineskins.
And I was blind but now I see. "
A year goes by and I'm staring at my watch again,
and I dig deep this time, for something greater than I've ever been, life to ancient wineskins.
And I was blind but now I see. "
I love that line: "I hate my skin, this grave I'm standing in." This flesh is corruptible, and it is a grave. That is not to say that it is evil, for it will be redeemed and resurrected, but right now it is very much like a grave.
It's hard to change. It's unpleasant, and difficult, and confusing. But without change, there is no life.
Thursday, February 17
Yet Again...
...I shall be blogging about Five Iron Frenzy. Someday soon I'll post a review of the album The End is Here, but I don't have time today. Here is one thing, though.
Why is FIF so popular?
A lot of people wonder why this band was so popular. They didn't have great voices, per se, and it's ska, so it's not exactly the most musically sophisticated sound. They sung about their pants, and Combat Chuck, and blue combs; not the most intelligent of all lyrics.
So why are they so well loved?
Well, firstly, because they didn't try to be rock stars. They were normal people. I wrote to them one time, and got a letter back from a member of the band, giving me her e-mail address. We chatted back and forth a few times, and one time she even sent me a postcard. It had a picture of Spam on it: I loved it.
Secondly, they acknowledged brokeness and failure, but not in the way that most bands do. Most people swing between the extremes of "no negativity, ever," and "let's talk about all the dark things in life, all the time, and tack Jesus onto the end of it to make it Christian." FIF generally didn't fall into either error. They basically said, "Hey, it's life. There's good stuff, there's rotten stuff. The good stuff is a gift: appreciate it, experience it fully. The bad stuff stinks but can push you closer to Christ. Accept it, welcome it, experience it fully." For example, here's a quote from the song "Cannonball":
"Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down, this furious speed will only destroy me.
Crippling and devastating momentum, approaching maximum velocity.
And this is how it's going to be, the point of it all.
'Cause this is what was meant for me, recklessly I fall.
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing, nothing like when I was small.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
That feeble coward that you knew, has undergone an overhaul.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
And everyone will say it's just an accident, like some mishap or a tragedy.
I think that failure has a purpose, and I don't believe it's chance if I fall.
And I know that if I ever do fall, He will catch me.
And if He ever lets me fall down, for the good of those who believe Him,
He will make me into a cannonball.
Unblemished, and faultless. A burning luminescence.
Unequaled precision, beyond your scope of vision. Cannonball."
Thirdly, they were ok with criticizing the church when it did go wrong, but not blindly condemning it. Most Christian bands will either say nothing bad about anything Christian, or will blame all of Christian culture and the Church for everything that's wrong. FIF, though they sometimes might have gone a bit too far, never really ended up in either camp.
Fourthly: Their songs acknowledged human brokeness, sin, and coldheartedness without being depressing. Sin was never pointed out without a mention of the grace that heals.
My new favorite FIF song illustrates this:
"I have been scarred so deep by life and cold despair, and brittle bones were broken far beyond repair.
I have leveled lies so deep, the truth may never find.
And inside my faithless heart, I stole things never mine.
If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.
I have toiled for countless years and ever felt the cost,
and I've been burned by this world's cold, like leaves beneath the frost.
On my knees I've crawled to You, bleeding myself dry. But the price of life is more, than I could ever buy.
If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.
And off of the blocks, I was headstrong and proud,
at the front of the line for the card-carrying, highbrowed.
With both eyes fastened tight, yet unscarred from the fight.
Running at full tilt, my sword pulled from its hilt.
It's funny how these things can slip away, our frail deeds, the last will wave good-bye.
It's funny how the hope will bleed away, the citadels we build and fortify. Good-Bye.
Night came and I broke my stride, I swallowed hard, but never cried.
When grace was easy to forget, I'd denounce the hypocrites,
casting first stones, killing my own.
You would unscale my blind eyes, and I stood battered, but more wise,
fighting to accelerate, shaking free from crippling weight.
With resilience unsurpassed, I clawed my way to You at last.
And on my knees, I wept at Your feet,
I finally believed, that You still loved me.
Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again. Jesus Christ, Light of the World, burning bright within our hearts forever. Freedom means love without condition, without beginning or an end. Here's my heart, let it be forever Yours, only You can make every new day seem so new."
Fifthly, they created a niche for some very odd people to exist in. Most of Christian culture has been very serious and solemn, and while that's good, there's often no place for people who are slightly random. So when FIF sang about how these were not their pants, and going out into the street and getting hit by cars, and the kingdom of the dinosaurs, we laughed and knew that there was a place for us.
...I shall be blogging about Five Iron Frenzy. Someday soon I'll post a review of the album The End is Here, but I don't have time today. Here is one thing, though.
Why is FIF so popular?
A lot of people wonder why this band was so popular. They didn't have great voices, per se, and it's ska, so it's not exactly the most musically sophisticated sound. They sung about their pants, and Combat Chuck, and blue combs; not the most intelligent of all lyrics.
So why are they so well loved?
Well, firstly, because they didn't try to be rock stars. They were normal people. I wrote to them one time, and got a letter back from a member of the band, giving me her e-mail address. We chatted back and forth a few times, and one time she even sent me a postcard. It had a picture of Spam on it: I loved it.
Secondly, they acknowledged brokeness and failure, but not in the way that most bands do. Most people swing between the extremes of "no negativity, ever," and "let's talk about all the dark things in life, all the time, and tack Jesus onto the end of it to make it Christian." FIF generally didn't fall into either error. They basically said, "Hey, it's life. There's good stuff, there's rotten stuff. The good stuff is a gift: appreciate it, experience it fully. The bad stuff stinks but can push you closer to Christ. Accept it, welcome it, experience it fully." For example, here's a quote from the song "Cannonball":
"Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down, this furious speed will only destroy me.
Crippling and devastating momentum, approaching maximum velocity.
And this is how it's going to be, the point of it all.
'Cause this is what was meant for me, recklessly I fall.
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing, nothing like when I was small.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
That feeble coward that you knew, has undergone an overhaul.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
And everyone will say it's just an accident, like some mishap or a tragedy.
I think that failure has a purpose, and I don't believe it's chance if I fall.
And I know that if I ever do fall, He will catch me.
And if He ever lets me fall down, for the good of those who believe Him,
He will make me into a cannonball.
Unblemished, and faultless. A burning luminescence.
Unequaled precision, beyond your scope of vision. Cannonball."
Thirdly, they were ok with criticizing the church when it did go wrong, but not blindly condemning it. Most Christian bands will either say nothing bad about anything Christian, or will blame all of Christian culture and the Church for everything that's wrong. FIF, though they sometimes might have gone a bit too far, never really ended up in either camp.
Fourthly: Their songs acknowledged human brokeness, sin, and coldheartedness without being depressing. Sin was never pointed out without a mention of the grace that heals.
My new favorite FIF song illustrates this:
"I have been scarred so deep by life and cold despair, and brittle bones were broken far beyond repair.
I have leveled lies so deep, the truth may never find.
And inside my faithless heart, I stole things never mine.
If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.
I have toiled for countless years and ever felt the cost,
and I've been burned by this world's cold, like leaves beneath the frost.
On my knees I've crawled to You, bleeding myself dry. But the price of life is more, than I could ever buy.
If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.
And off of the blocks, I was headstrong and proud,
at the front of the line for the card-carrying, highbrowed.
With both eyes fastened tight, yet unscarred from the fight.
Running at full tilt, my sword pulled from its hilt.
It's funny how these things can slip away, our frail deeds, the last will wave good-bye.
It's funny how the hope will bleed away, the citadels we build and fortify. Good-Bye.
Night came and I broke my stride, I swallowed hard, but never cried.
When grace was easy to forget, I'd denounce the hypocrites,
casting first stones, killing my own.
You would unscale my blind eyes, and I stood battered, but more wise,
fighting to accelerate, shaking free from crippling weight.
With resilience unsurpassed, I clawed my way to You at last.
And on my knees, I wept at Your feet,
I finally believed, that You still loved me.
Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again. Jesus Christ, Light of the World, burning bright within our hearts forever. Freedom means love without condition, without beginning or an end. Here's my heart, let it be forever Yours, only You can make every new day seem so new."
Fifthly, they created a niche for some very odd people to exist in. Most of Christian culture has been very serious and solemn, and while that's good, there's often no place for people who are slightly random. So when FIF sang about how these were not their pants, and going out into the street and getting hit by cars, and the kingdom of the dinosaurs, we laughed and knew that there was a place for us.
Monday, February 14
Not sure if I've blogged about this song before, but here it is.
This is the theme song from the show Firefly, which sadly got cancelled before it's first season ended, due to producers at Fox deciding that reality shows deserved more airtime than creative sci-fi. Grrr!
This is the theme song from the show Firefly, which sadly got cancelled before it's first season ended, due to producers at Fox deciding that reality shows deserved more airtime than creative sci-fi. Grrr!
Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me
Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't comin' back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me...
I really connect to this song. Some of it is probably that I come from Texas, home of the wide open skies and fiercely independent people. This is largely my attitude towards people who try to control me (not instruct: control). You can take everything away, and I'll still be free.
Monday, February 7
Heh.
Mysterious, elegant, creative and calmYou are a sprite of the Water. Creative and one of
the most beautiful of sprites, you strike
wonder and curiosity into the hearts and minds
of all. Even though you are capable of
attraction and seduction you are way above all
that, you understand the true meaning of life
and are very open and understanding of life's
mysteries, most likely you are one of them. You
are respectful of all ways of life and do not
judge one due to their position or station in
life. You are gifted in the ways of
understanding and given the chance are usually
full of good, wise advice but your not the type
to take the stand and express such things. Your
laid back nature can be troubling, you don't
take many risks and prefer to keep things as
they are. You are one of the most unique of
sprites.
.::=What type of Mythical Sprite are you?=::. -With Anime Pictures and detailed answers-
brought to you by
Mysterious, elegant, creative and calmYou are a sprite of the Water. Creative and one of
the most beautiful of sprites, you strike
wonder and curiosity into the hearts and minds
of all. Even though you are capable of
attraction and seduction you are way above all
that, you understand the true meaning of life
and are very open and understanding of life's
mysteries, most likely you are one of them. You
are respectful of all ways of life and do not
judge one due to their position or station in
life. You are gifted in the ways of
understanding and given the chance are usually
full of good, wise advice but your not the type
to take the stand and express such things. Your
laid back nature can be troubling, you don't
take many risks and prefer to keep things as
they are. You are one of the most unique of
sprites.
.::=What type of Mythical Sprite are you?=::. -With Anime Pictures and detailed answers-
brought to you by
Sunday, February 6
Thinking
My priest said something the other night that made me think.
A group of us were gathered at a parishoner's house for our monthly meeting; the bishop had planned to join us, but had had to back out at the last minute. We met anyway, and our priest spent most of the time telling pastoral stories (which I love to hear.)
At one point, someone asked him what he thought the theme of his ministry was, or the things he emphasized, or something like that. He thought for a moment and said, among other things, that one gift he really did have was a deep and profound respect for women, as images of the Virgin Mary, as well as for themselves. He said that he loved the innocence and purity that is apropos to women, and that the thing that made him more mad than anything else was a person who would do anything to damage those virtues.
I've been thinking about that all week. I hadn't really realized it, but that is one of the things I like best about my priest. He respects me not just as a person, but as a woman. I appreciate that he treats the women in the congregation as women, not just parishoners. Oh dear, this is not sounding quite right...Hmm.
He was one of the first ones that I told about my decision to be content with singleness, and has always been one of the biggest supporters of that decision. His comment the other night gave me a tiny, faint, glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he might see a little tiny bit of the Holy Virgin, role model and patron of all women, in me. Maybe? I hope so. I want to be more like her. And I'm glad that there's someone out there who wants that for me, as well.
My priest said something the other night that made me think.
A group of us were gathered at a parishoner's house for our monthly meeting; the bishop had planned to join us, but had had to back out at the last minute. We met anyway, and our priest spent most of the time telling pastoral stories (which I love to hear.)
At one point, someone asked him what he thought the theme of his ministry was, or the things he emphasized, or something like that. He thought for a moment and said, among other things, that one gift he really did have was a deep and profound respect for women, as images of the Virgin Mary, as well as for themselves. He said that he loved the innocence and purity that is apropos to women, and that the thing that made him more mad than anything else was a person who would do anything to damage those virtues.
I've been thinking about that all week. I hadn't really realized it, but that is one of the things I like best about my priest. He respects me not just as a person, but as a woman. I appreciate that he treats the women in the congregation as women, not just parishoners. Oh dear, this is not sounding quite right...Hmm.
He was one of the first ones that I told about my decision to be content with singleness, and has always been one of the biggest supporters of that decision. His comment the other night gave me a tiny, faint, glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he might see a little tiny bit of the Holy Virgin, role model and patron of all women, in me. Maybe? I hope so. I want to be more like her. And I'm glad that there's someone out there who wants that for me, as well.
Friday, February 4
Atlas Shrugged
I am re-reading this book. I don't know why I like it, really. The characters are sort of compelling, but not very. You've really only got two types of characters, and only little tiny variations in each individual. The book is FAR too preachy, almost to the point of being unreadable.
But I still get fascinated by it. Maybe it's because I think Ayn Rand is right about some things. I learned some interesting economic things by reading Atlas Shrugged. It confirmed a lot of things I'd been told, but did a better job of explaining them. For instance, I'd always been told that big government was not a good idea, and that it wrecked businesses. I didn't really understand that, until I saw it play out in the book.
But I know there's got to be a flaw in her arguments somewhere. She applies the same system to morality as she does to economics, and there's where it seems to break down. She's built up a lot of straw men for Christianity and religion in general, and it's not too hard to argue against that...but I feel there's still something I can't quite put my finger on.
I am re-reading this book. I don't know why I like it, really. The characters are sort of compelling, but not very. You've really only got two types of characters, and only little tiny variations in each individual. The book is FAR too preachy, almost to the point of being unreadable.
But I still get fascinated by it. Maybe it's because I think Ayn Rand is right about some things. I learned some interesting economic things by reading Atlas Shrugged. It confirmed a lot of things I'd been told, but did a better job of explaining them. For instance, I'd always been told that big government was not a good idea, and that it wrecked businesses. I didn't really understand that, until I saw it play out in the book.
But I know there's got to be a flaw in her arguments somewhere. She applies the same system to morality as she does to economics, and there's where it seems to break down. She's built up a lot of straw men for Christianity and religion in general, and it's not too hard to argue against that...but I feel there's still something I can't quite put my finger on.
Lent
Lent is coming up again. And again, I take a slightly perverse pleasure in the fact that Valentine's Day occurs during Lent. So much for giving your sweetie a box of chocolates!
But that aside...I'm kind of looking forward to Lent. I don't like giving stuff up, but I know it's a good thing to do, and I always do feel better afterwards. Not that it's about feeling better because it isn't, but still.
I wish I'd taken the time to focus on Christmas this year. Christmas and Advent in general are times to remember Christ's first coming, and look forward to His coming again in power and great glory. But I lost focus this year, as every year. Lent is easier because the preperation time is longer, and I spend the whole time with my church family, instead of spending half my time in a different and unfamiliar church. On top of that, there's my whole tendency to have a melancholy disposition. So I generally tend to like this whole season.
Besides, Easter means so much more when you've spent 40 days not singing "allelujahs" or seeing the crucifix, and then, on Good Friday, when the last of the Sacrament is consumed, the church is stripped, and left barren...That's hard to see. But then, on Easter, when the small Paschal fire is lit in the darkness, and we all pass quietly into the church with our lights. Our own little lights, not really enough for us to see by, and certainly not enough for anybody else to see by. But then, suddenly, the choir bursts into joyful song, all the lights are turned on full blast, and bells everywhere start to ring! He is risen!
But right now it's almost Lent, time to be quiet and think. The Resurrection comes, and will come to all who abide in Him, but it is not yet. Now is the time for quiet.
Selah.
Lent is coming up again. And again, I take a slightly perverse pleasure in the fact that Valentine's Day occurs during Lent. So much for giving your sweetie a box of chocolates!
But that aside...I'm kind of looking forward to Lent. I don't like giving stuff up, but I know it's a good thing to do, and I always do feel better afterwards. Not that it's about feeling better because it isn't, but still.
I wish I'd taken the time to focus on Christmas this year. Christmas and Advent in general are times to remember Christ's first coming, and look forward to His coming again in power and great glory. But I lost focus this year, as every year. Lent is easier because the preperation time is longer, and I spend the whole time with my church family, instead of spending half my time in a different and unfamiliar church. On top of that, there's my whole tendency to have a melancholy disposition. So I generally tend to like this whole season.
Besides, Easter means so much more when you've spent 40 days not singing "allelujahs" or seeing the crucifix, and then, on Good Friday, when the last of the Sacrament is consumed, the church is stripped, and left barren...That's hard to see. But then, on Easter, when the small Paschal fire is lit in the darkness, and we all pass quietly into the church with our lights. Our own little lights, not really enough for us to see by, and certainly not enough for anybody else to see by. But then, suddenly, the choir bursts into joyful song, all the lights are turned on full blast, and bells everywhere start to ring! He is risen!
But right now it's almost Lent, time to be quiet and think. The Resurrection comes, and will come to all who abide in Him, but it is not yet. Now is the time for quiet.
Selah.
Thursday, February 3
A Belated Grateful Farewell
I know that no-one to whom this is directed will ever read this blog. But I need to say it anyway:
Five Iron Frenzy, thank you. For all the years that you gave us good, fun music, thank you. For all the songs that made us laugh, thank you. For all the insane bonus tracks and live goofs, thank you.
To those of you who don't know who or what Five Iron Frenzy is, let me explain.
Five Iron Frenzy is a Christian ska band that specialized in silly songs (such as the These Are Not My Pants rock opera) juxtaposed with incredibly insightful songs (such as Every New Day). They played for years, and got better all the time. They were very real, about the good things and the bad things.
I wrote them a letter after my first year in college, thanking them for their music. A member of the band wrote back to me several times, and even e-mailed me once or twice. They are good people, with a crazy sense of humor.
Their last tour has been over for a while now. The band Five Iron Frenzy, technically, no longer exists. But I sit here in the library, listening to a live track from their last tour.
They were singing the song Every New Day:
When I was young, the smallest trick of light,
Could catch my eye,
Then life was new and every new day,
I thought that I could fly.
I believed in what I hoped for,
And I hoped for things unseen,
I had wings and dreams could soar,
I just don't feel like flying anymore.
When the stars threw down their spears,
Watered Heaven with their tears,
Before words were spoken,
Before eternity.
Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.
When I was small, the furthest I could reach,
Was not so high,
Then I thought the world was so much smaller,
Feeling that I could fly.
Through distant deeps and skies,
Behind infinity,
Below the face of Heaven,
He stoops to create me.
Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.
You are not alone
You are not alone
You are not alone
You were never alone.
Man versus himself.
Man versus machine.
Man versus the world.
Mankind versus me.
The struggles go on,
The wisdom I lack,
The burdens keep pilling
Up on my back.
So hard to breathe,
To take the next step.
The mountain is high,
I wait in the depths.
Yearning for grace,
And hoping for peace.
Dear God...Increase.
Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again.
Jesus Christ, light of the world burning bright within our hearts forever.
Freedom means love without condition,without a beginning or an end.
Here's my heart, let it be forever Your's,
Only You can make every new day seem so new.
At the end, the crowd--knowing that the end was near--simply began chanting "Thank you," over and over again. The band ended the song, and slowly moved into "Amazing Grace." Then the lead singer, Reese, began to talk about ending, and passing on the mantle to the next generation. Then, mentioning the snow falling outside, the track ended with Five Iron Frenzy and the concert crowd singing "Silent Night."
Thank you, FIF. We will miss you. A bright spark of humor and insight has passed.
I know that no-one to whom this is directed will ever read this blog. But I need to say it anyway:
Five Iron Frenzy, thank you. For all the years that you gave us good, fun music, thank you. For all the songs that made us laugh, thank you. For all the insane bonus tracks and live goofs, thank you.
To those of you who don't know who or what Five Iron Frenzy is, let me explain.
Five Iron Frenzy is a Christian ska band that specialized in silly songs (such as the These Are Not My Pants rock opera) juxtaposed with incredibly insightful songs (such as Every New Day). They played for years, and got better all the time. They were very real, about the good things and the bad things.
I wrote them a letter after my first year in college, thanking them for their music. A member of the band wrote back to me several times, and even e-mailed me once or twice. They are good people, with a crazy sense of humor.
Their last tour has been over for a while now. The band Five Iron Frenzy, technically, no longer exists. But I sit here in the library, listening to a live track from their last tour.
They were singing the song Every New Day:
When I was young, the smallest trick of light,
Could catch my eye,
Then life was new and every new day,
I thought that I could fly.
I believed in what I hoped for,
And I hoped for things unseen,
I had wings and dreams could soar,
I just don't feel like flying anymore.
When the stars threw down their spears,
Watered Heaven with their tears,
Before words were spoken,
Before eternity.
Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.
When I was small, the furthest I could reach,
Was not so high,
Then I thought the world was so much smaller,
Feeling that I could fly.
Through distant deeps and skies,
Behind infinity,
Below the face of Heaven,
He stoops to create me.
Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.
You are not alone
You are not alone
You are not alone
You were never alone.
Man versus himself.
Man versus machine.
Man versus the world.
Mankind versus me.
The struggles go on,
The wisdom I lack,
The burdens keep pilling
Up on my back.
So hard to breathe,
To take the next step.
The mountain is high,
I wait in the depths.
Yearning for grace,
And hoping for peace.
Dear God...Increase.
Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again.
Jesus Christ, light of the world burning bright within our hearts forever.
Freedom means love without condition,without a beginning or an end.
Here's my heart, let it be forever Your's,
Only You can make every new day seem so new.
At the end, the crowd--knowing that the end was near--simply began chanting "Thank you," over and over again. The band ended the song, and slowly moved into "Amazing Grace." Then the lead singer, Reese, began to talk about ending, and passing on the mantle to the next generation. Then, mentioning the snow falling outside, the track ended with Five Iron Frenzy and the concert crowd singing "Silent Night."
Thank you, FIF. We will miss you. A bright spark of humor and insight has passed.
Tuesday, January 25
I want to grow up to be her.
From The King's Business, Vol. 12, January 1921. Pages 21-25
Making the Most of Life: A Tribute to the Memory of Mrs. T.C.Horton Who Departed October 10th.
"To be with Christ is far, far better." --Phil. 1:23
On Sunday evening, October 10, 1920, just as the sun was fading from sight, and the people were gathering for the regular weekly Twilight Communion Service in the Church of the Open Door, a little woman closed her eyes and slipped away in obedience to the call of her Master-- "Well done, thou good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of the Lord."
The announcement of her home-going, which was made a few hours later to the vast congregation assembled for evening worship in the auditorium, brought a sense of shock and personal loss to those of the audience who were privileged to know her--and these were many. When on the following Tuesday her friends gathered to look for the last time on her loved face, they came, not by hundreds, but literally by thousands--a great company--sorrowing not as those who have no hope, but rejoicing in the coronation of a life of loving service.
Who was she and what had she done to merit such a demonstration in her honor? Just a modest, retiring, homeloving little woman, who--having first given her own self to the Lord--had heard his call for service and answered "Here am I." Truly it was for others that she lived, giving unstintedly of her time, her strength, her effort, and her heart's love to those with any sort of need, from the highest to the lowest, rich and poor, wise and ignorant, with no thought of commendation or reward, actuated only by the constraining love of Christ.
How wonderfully does her life attest to the truth of that saying of the Lord Jesus, "Faithful in that which is least--faithful also in much." It was ever her way to "do the next thing," no matter how seemingly unimportant, thus preparing the way for the larger service which was given her, the influence of which has been felt in almost every nation of the world, through the women and girls who, inspired by her life, her teaching and her example, have been led to dedicate themselves to the service of Christ.
Her Earlier Life
"Mother" Horton was born some sixty-eight years ago in Rome, N.Y. Early environment had little to do in influencing her to choose the path of self-sacrificing devotion to Christ,--for, though surrounded by every comfort and advantage that a loving father and mother could provice, hers was a Universalist home, where the latch string was always out for ministers of that faith, and she attended a Universalist college, giving the valedictory address at her graduation.
But "God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to perform," and He has His own way of bringing His purposes to pass. Little Anna Kingsbury (for that was her maiden name) was extremely musical, and when she attended the Universalist church always played the organ. But the church was small and often no meetings were held in it, and at such times her services as an organist were in demand at the Presbyterian church. She was not "between two fires," for there was no fire in the sermons preached in the Universalist church, but in the Presbyterian church there was a good, old-fashioned preacher whose sermons--founded upon the Word of God--made the soul of the young girl restless until she sought and found Him who is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life."
Moving later to Indianapolis, she met a young business man, lately converted, Mr. Thomas C. Horton, who had responded to a call (as she herself had) for workers in a little Presbyterian Mission. Her husband says of her: "I saw her first on her own doorstep, as I happened to pass by her home, and never forgot her face. In the mission I saw her at the organ, and the services there suddenly became very attractive to me, especially the organ music. She was engaged at that time to marry a young Presbyterian minister but her father was opposed to the match, and I used my utmost endeavors to persuade her that it would be better to marry a business man than a minister, and was finally successful."
Mrs. Horton had a fine well-trained mezzo-soprano voice, and had been singing in a quartet in the leading Episcopal church of Indianapolis. Continuing their work in the mission, she taught a class of boys, and her husband took charge of the Primary (or as it was then called, the "Infant") Department of the Sunday School, where they spent many happy years, learning to do things by doing them.
With a cultured mind, practical ability, and a rarely unselfish devotion, this little woman grew in knowledge and in wisdom. Blessed with unusually good health, she gave not only the proper attention to the duties of the home, but gave instruction upon the organ (having many free pupils), and made her home a rendezvous for young people where they could come in touch with a happy, healthy, normal Christian atmosphere.
Unfolding of God’s Plan
The gradual unfolding of the plan of God for the lives of these two is seen in the call which came to Mr. Horton to take up the work of the secretaryship of the Y.M.C.A. which he accepted, although without any previous knowledge of definite Christian work, and with not much knowledge of the Bible. Following a successful term of service here, in which she was ever the constant helpmate of her husband, the family removed to St. Paul where Mr. Horton (having in the meantime fitted himself for the ministry and having been ordained in the Presbyterian Church), organized and ministered to a church of that denomination. Here, as always, Mrs. Horton had a large share in the work, teaching a splendid class of young boys.
In her home there were now four earnest daughters growing into Christian womanhood. The eldest, Jessie, who had dedicated her life to God for work in the foreign field, and expected to go to China as a missionary, was taken to be with her Lord at the age of twenty-four.
Later a call came to Mr. Horton from an important field in Philadelphia, where for four years he was Associate Pastor of the Bethany Presbyterian Church, of which Dr. Arthur T. Pierson was pastor, and John Wanamaker was Superintendent of the Sunday School. Here Mrs. Horton did a great work among the women and young girls, gaining the experience and knowledge which were afterwards so helpful to her in her work with the Lyceum Club and the Bible Women’s Department in the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.
In Dallas, Texas, where Mr. Horton was called to succeed Dr. C.I. Scofield as pastor of the First Congregational Church, Mrs. Horton, besides efficiently discharging the many and varied duties ordinarily devolving upon a pastor’s wife, organized and taught a class of boys, many of whom are now engaged in different forms of Christian work,-- one a missionary in Central America, another in charge of Christian Endeavor work for the Southwestern Territory, etc.
In January, 1906, the family came to Los Angeles in response to a call from the Immanuel Presbyterian Church, of which Mr. Horton became assistant Pastor. Mrs. Horton organized a woman’s class called the Eulogia Bible Class, which is still in existence, and has communicated with the family with the following words of comfort: "We feel the loss of a dear Christian friend and teacher, who was the founder of our Bible class almost fifteen years ago, and because of whose influence we are still endeavoring to reach a higher, nobler Christian life."
The Lyceum Club
With a heart full of love and sympathy for working girls, Mrs. Horton organized a club, which met in the Fifth Street Store, at the request of Mr. D.H. Steele, who was manager of the store at that time. To this organization she gave the name of Lyceum Club. Girls from the stores and business houses met one evening each week for Christian fellowship, a supper together, and a simple, practical, Bible lesson, dismissing at an early hour. This plan for the evening’s activities has never been changed. For a number of years after the organization of the Lyceum Club, Mrs. Horton took charge of the suppers served each week to this large company of girls, doing a large share of the work with her own hands. No task was ever too small for her to perform for the dear girls whom she loved so well.
Two years ago, because of failing health, Mrs. Horton gave up the teaching of this Club, but has always been its leader, and a true "Mother" to the girls. To many of them she was the only mother they knew. She had a real mother heart, and would remain frequently until a late hour, in order to bring comfort to the hearts of the sad girls, strength to the weak and disheartened, and the knowledge of Jesus Christ as Lord to those who did not know Him.
The attendance at the Lyceum Club today ranges from one hundred and seventy-five to two hundred and fifty. Thousands of lives have been touched through this work. Many of the girls have entered the Bible Institute and have gone to the foreign field, fully equipped missionaries, while many other have engaged in church work in the home land. Scarcely a Tuesday evening passes without one or more girls accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Savior. The Fishermen’s Club for young men, organized by Mr. Horton, together with the Lyceum Club, formed the nucleus of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.
Bible Women’s Work
Inspired by the Zenana work of India, and as a result of a deeply felt need of reaching women in their homes in our own land, Mrs. Horton was used of God to institute her Bible Women’s work. Since the organization of the work in 1909 this band of devoted women have spent one entire morning each week in counsel and prayer. The rest of their time is devoted to meeting the needs of women as God may lead, visiting in the homes, teaching Bible classes, and administering comfort and help. God has wonderfully blessed this work, which is all done to His glory. This work began with three Bible women. Today the circle has grown to seventeen Bible women and five volunteer workers. God gave to Mrs. Horton a rare gift of discernment, and the band of women whom she gathered around her we believe cannot be excelled for ability in their work and consecration to God.
Feeling very strongly the need of reaching the girls for God at as early an age as possible, Mrs. Horton about ten years ago organized the work among High School girls. For a number of years weekly Bible classes have been held in some home or church near the schools, the number of classes varying from ten to twenty each week. There are now fifteen such classes in connection with the High and Intermediate schools of Los Angeles and vicinity. These classes gather together two or three times a year for a rally or for a social time together. The organization as a whole is known as the Euodia Club, --Euodia meaning fragrance—and the motto is, "Be fragrant for Christ." A number of these girls have become Institute students, and some are already engaged in definite Christian work.
The Funeral Services
The funeral services for Mrs. Horton were held in the main auditorium of the Bible Institute in the presence of a multitude of friends. Rev. Robert A. Hadden, an old time friend of the family, preached the funeral sermon. Dr. J.R. Pratt and Rev. Ralph Atkinson offered prayers , and solos were sung by Mr. C.M. Brooks and Mrs. Corinne Smith. Mrs. Smith sang the old hymn, "There Is Never a Day So Dreary." This same hymn was sung at funeral of Jessie Horton, Mrs. Horton herself playing the organ accompaniment. The Bible Institute male quartet also sang a beautiful hymn and the Bible Institute chimes during the service played "Rock of Ages," "Trust and Obey," and the Doxology. The whole service was very helpful and inspiring. Those who acted as pall-bearers were Mr. H.H. Fulton, Mr. J.P. Welles, Mr. C.L. Wells, Mr. J.M. Irvine, Mr. A.J. Johnson and Rev. J.H. Hunter.
By the time the great company of people had passed the casket to take their farewell look at their beloved friend, the hour was very late. Just at dusk, as the sun had set and the evening star appeared, her family and friends laid her away in Forest Lawn Cemetery. A brief but most beautiful and impressive service was held, closing with the following verse sung softly by the assembled friends:
"Sleep on, thou weary one, and take thy rest;
And lay thy head upon the Savior’s breast.
We love thee much, but Jesus loves thee best.
Sleep on, sleep on, sleep on."
Tributes From Loving Friends
"We all feel that Heaven has been brought a bit nearer and its ties made stronger by her departure to be with her Lord, whom she loved and served so faithfully. Many of us remember her many years’ of untiring devotion and service for the Lord as a mother to the Fishermen fellows, and now she rests from her labors, and her works do follow her."
"We think of how much ‘Mother’ Horton has gained to be in the glory and how we rejoice also to think of her life of devotion, of service, of hardship, of unselfishness and love for Him, and the work of the Gospel. How we envy her record and how glad we are to know what rich reward is awaiting her up there…Life is poorer without her, yet so much richer than before we knew her. She truly choose the best part—to live for Him, to serve Him in deep, true devotion, and to make her life count in the salvation of souls everywhere."
"Truly ‘Aunt Anna’ was a remarkable woman, and I cannot help but feel that she was an eye-witness to the scenes of today (the funeral services). I do not suppose, however, that it was worthy of mention compared to the demonstration Sunday evening when she entered the glory on the other side. I felt as though we were at the very gates of Heaven today, and wish that we might all have gone in."
"I cannot refrain from telling you how much Mrs. Horton has meant to my life. Ever since my arrival in Los Angeles she has addressed me as ‘Sonny’ and on several occasions introduced me to strangers as ‘her son,’ much to their surprise. But I was her son and she was my mother in a way she little realized for her sweet ways were constantly reminding me of my own dear mother who went to be with the Lord some years ago. She was always saying a word of encouragement to me just at the time when I most needed it, although she may not have known it. No one will miss her more than I."
"It was indeed ‘Christ for her to live.’ Her service was her ‘ruling passion,’ and now what must this gain of higher, untrammeled, all perfect service be to her, as she beholds the King in His beauty."
From The King's Business, Vol. 12, January 1921. Pages 21-25
Making the Most of Life: A Tribute to the Memory of Mrs. T.C.Horton Who Departed October 10th.
"To be with Christ is far, far better." --Phil. 1:23
On Sunday evening, October 10, 1920, just as the sun was fading from sight, and the people were gathering for the regular weekly Twilight Communion Service in the Church of the Open Door, a little woman closed her eyes and slipped away in obedience to the call of her Master-- "Well done, thou good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of the Lord."
The announcement of her home-going, which was made a few hours later to the vast congregation assembled for evening worship in the auditorium, brought a sense of shock and personal loss to those of the audience who were privileged to know her--and these were many. When on the following Tuesday her friends gathered to look for the last time on her loved face, they came, not by hundreds, but literally by thousands--a great company--sorrowing not as those who have no hope, but rejoicing in the coronation of a life of loving service.
Who was she and what had she done to merit such a demonstration in her honor? Just a modest, retiring, homeloving little woman, who--having first given her own self to the Lord--had heard his call for service and answered "Here am I." Truly it was for others that she lived, giving unstintedly of her time, her strength, her effort, and her heart's love to those with any sort of need, from the highest to the lowest, rich and poor, wise and ignorant, with no thought of commendation or reward, actuated only by the constraining love of Christ.
How wonderfully does her life attest to the truth of that saying of the Lord Jesus, "Faithful in that which is least--faithful also in much." It was ever her way to "do the next thing," no matter how seemingly unimportant, thus preparing the way for the larger service which was given her, the influence of which has been felt in almost every nation of the world, through the women and girls who, inspired by her life, her teaching and her example, have been led to dedicate themselves to the service of Christ.
Her Earlier Life
"Mother" Horton was born some sixty-eight years ago in Rome, N.Y. Early environment had little to do in influencing her to choose the path of self-sacrificing devotion to Christ,--for, though surrounded by every comfort and advantage that a loving father and mother could provice, hers was a Universalist home, where the latch string was always out for ministers of that faith, and she attended a Universalist college, giving the valedictory address at her graduation.
But "God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to perform," and He has His own way of bringing His purposes to pass. Little Anna Kingsbury (for that was her maiden name) was extremely musical, and when she attended the Universalist church always played the organ. But the church was small and often no meetings were held in it, and at such times her services as an organist were in demand at the Presbyterian church. She was not "between two fires," for there was no fire in the sermons preached in the Universalist church, but in the Presbyterian church there was a good, old-fashioned preacher whose sermons--founded upon the Word of God--made the soul of the young girl restless until she sought and found Him who is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life."
Moving later to Indianapolis, she met a young business man, lately converted, Mr. Thomas C. Horton, who had responded to a call (as she herself had) for workers in a little Presbyterian Mission. Her husband says of her: "I saw her first on her own doorstep, as I happened to pass by her home, and never forgot her face. In the mission I saw her at the organ, and the services there suddenly became very attractive to me, especially the organ music. She was engaged at that time to marry a young Presbyterian minister but her father was opposed to the match, and I used my utmost endeavors to persuade her that it would be better to marry a business man than a minister, and was finally successful."
Mrs. Horton had a fine well-trained mezzo-soprano voice, and had been singing in a quartet in the leading Episcopal church of Indianapolis. Continuing their work in the mission, she taught a class of boys, and her husband took charge of the Primary (or as it was then called, the "Infant") Department of the Sunday School, where they spent many happy years, learning to do things by doing them.
With a cultured mind, practical ability, and a rarely unselfish devotion, this little woman grew in knowledge and in wisdom. Blessed with unusually good health, she gave not only the proper attention to the duties of the home, but gave instruction upon the organ (having many free pupils), and made her home a rendezvous for young people where they could come in touch with a happy, healthy, normal Christian atmosphere.
Unfolding of God’s Plan
The gradual unfolding of the plan of God for the lives of these two is seen in the call which came to Mr. Horton to take up the work of the secretaryship of the Y.M.C.A. which he accepted, although without any previous knowledge of definite Christian work, and with not much knowledge of the Bible. Following a successful term of service here, in which she was ever the constant helpmate of her husband, the family removed to St. Paul where Mr. Horton (having in the meantime fitted himself for the ministry and having been ordained in the Presbyterian Church), organized and ministered to a church of that denomination. Here, as always, Mrs. Horton had a large share in the work, teaching a splendid class of young boys.
In her home there were now four earnest daughters growing into Christian womanhood. The eldest, Jessie, who had dedicated her life to God for work in the foreign field, and expected to go to China as a missionary, was taken to be with her Lord at the age of twenty-four.
Later a call came to Mr. Horton from an important field in Philadelphia, where for four years he was Associate Pastor of the Bethany Presbyterian Church, of which Dr. Arthur T. Pierson was pastor, and John Wanamaker was Superintendent of the Sunday School. Here Mrs. Horton did a great work among the women and young girls, gaining the experience and knowledge which were afterwards so helpful to her in her work with the Lyceum Club and the Bible Women’s Department in the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.
In Dallas, Texas, where Mr. Horton was called to succeed Dr. C.I. Scofield as pastor of the First Congregational Church, Mrs. Horton, besides efficiently discharging the many and varied duties ordinarily devolving upon a pastor’s wife, organized and taught a class of boys, many of whom are now engaged in different forms of Christian work,-- one a missionary in Central America, another in charge of Christian Endeavor work for the Southwestern Territory, etc.
In January, 1906, the family came to Los Angeles in response to a call from the Immanuel Presbyterian Church, of which Mr. Horton became assistant Pastor. Mrs. Horton organized a woman’s class called the Eulogia Bible Class, which is still in existence, and has communicated with the family with the following words of comfort: "We feel the loss of a dear Christian friend and teacher, who was the founder of our Bible class almost fifteen years ago, and because of whose influence we are still endeavoring to reach a higher, nobler Christian life."
The Lyceum Club
With a heart full of love and sympathy for working girls, Mrs. Horton organized a club, which met in the Fifth Street Store, at the request of Mr. D.H. Steele, who was manager of the store at that time. To this organization she gave the name of Lyceum Club. Girls from the stores and business houses met one evening each week for Christian fellowship, a supper together, and a simple, practical, Bible lesson, dismissing at an early hour. This plan for the evening’s activities has never been changed. For a number of years after the organization of the Lyceum Club, Mrs. Horton took charge of the suppers served each week to this large company of girls, doing a large share of the work with her own hands. No task was ever too small for her to perform for the dear girls whom she loved so well.
Two years ago, because of failing health, Mrs. Horton gave up the teaching of this Club, but has always been its leader, and a true "Mother" to the girls. To many of them she was the only mother they knew. She had a real mother heart, and would remain frequently until a late hour, in order to bring comfort to the hearts of the sad girls, strength to the weak and disheartened, and the knowledge of Jesus Christ as Lord to those who did not know Him.
The attendance at the Lyceum Club today ranges from one hundred and seventy-five to two hundred and fifty. Thousands of lives have been touched through this work. Many of the girls have entered the Bible Institute and have gone to the foreign field, fully equipped missionaries, while many other have engaged in church work in the home land. Scarcely a Tuesday evening passes without one or more girls accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Savior. The Fishermen’s Club for young men, organized by Mr. Horton, together with the Lyceum Club, formed the nucleus of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.
Bible Women’s Work
Inspired by the Zenana work of India, and as a result of a deeply felt need of reaching women in their homes in our own land, Mrs. Horton was used of God to institute her Bible Women’s work. Since the organization of the work in 1909 this band of devoted women have spent one entire morning each week in counsel and prayer. The rest of their time is devoted to meeting the needs of women as God may lead, visiting in the homes, teaching Bible classes, and administering comfort and help. God has wonderfully blessed this work, which is all done to His glory. This work began with three Bible women. Today the circle has grown to seventeen Bible women and five volunteer workers. God gave to Mrs. Horton a rare gift of discernment, and the band of women whom she gathered around her we believe cannot be excelled for ability in their work and consecration to God.
Feeling very strongly the need of reaching the girls for God at as early an age as possible, Mrs. Horton about ten years ago organized the work among High School girls. For a number of years weekly Bible classes have been held in some home or church near the schools, the number of classes varying from ten to twenty each week. There are now fifteen such classes in connection with the High and Intermediate schools of Los Angeles and vicinity. These classes gather together two or three times a year for a rally or for a social time together. The organization as a whole is known as the Euodia Club, --Euodia meaning fragrance—and the motto is, "Be fragrant for Christ." A number of these girls have become Institute students, and some are already engaged in definite Christian work.
The Funeral Services
The funeral services for Mrs. Horton were held in the main auditorium of the Bible Institute in the presence of a multitude of friends. Rev. Robert A. Hadden, an old time friend of the family, preached the funeral sermon. Dr. J.R. Pratt and Rev. Ralph Atkinson offered prayers , and solos were sung by Mr. C.M. Brooks and Mrs. Corinne Smith. Mrs. Smith sang the old hymn, "There Is Never a Day So Dreary." This same hymn was sung at funeral of Jessie Horton, Mrs. Horton herself playing the organ accompaniment. The Bible Institute male quartet also sang a beautiful hymn and the Bible Institute chimes during the service played "Rock of Ages," "Trust and Obey," and the Doxology. The whole service was very helpful and inspiring. Those who acted as pall-bearers were Mr. H.H. Fulton, Mr. J.P. Welles, Mr. C.L. Wells, Mr. J.M. Irvine, Mr. A.J. Johnson and Rev. J.H. Hunter.
By the time the great company of people had passed the casket to take their farewell look at their beloved friend, the hour was very late. Just at dusk, as the sun had set and the evening star appeared, her family and friends laid her away in Forest Lawn Cemetery. A brief but most beautiful and impressive service was held, closing with the following verse sung softly by the assembled friends:
"Sleep on, thou weary one, and take thy rest;
And lay thy head upon the Savior’s breast.
We love thee much, but Jesus loves thee best.
Sleep on, sleep on, sleep on."
Tributes From Loving Friends
"We all feel that Heaven has been brought a bit nearer and its ties made stronger by her departure to be with her Lord, whom she loved and served so faithfully. Many of us remember her many years’ of untiring devotion and service for the Lord as a mother to the Fishermen fellows, and now she rests from her labors, and her works do follow her."
"We think of how much ‘Mother’ Horton has gained to be in the glory and how we rejoice also to think of her life of devotion, of service, of hardship, of unselfishness and love for Him, and the work of the Gospel. How we envy her record and how glad we are to know what rich reward is awaiting her up there…Life is poorer without her, yet so much richer than before we knew her. She truly choose the best part—to live for Him, to serve Him in deep, true devotion, and to make her life count in the salvation of souls everywhere."
"Truly ‘Aunt Anna’ was a remarkable woman, and I cannot help but feel that she was an eye-witness to the scenes of today (the funeral services). I do not suppose, however, that it was worthy of mention compared to the demonstration Sunday evening when she entered the glory on the other side. I felt as though we were at the very gates of Heaven today, and wish that we might all have gone in."
"I cannot refrain from telling you how much Mrs. Horton has meant to my life. Ever since my arrival in Los Angeles she has addressed me as ‘Sonny’ and on several occasions introduced me to strangers as ‘her son,’ much to their surprise. But I was her son and she was my mother in a way she little realized for her sweet ways were constantly reminding me of my own dear mother who went to be with the Lord some years ago. She was always saying a word of encouragement to me just at the time when I most needed it, although she may not have known it. No one will miss her more than I."
"It was indeed ‘Christ for her to live.’ Her service was her ‘ruling passion,’ and now what must this gain of higher, untrammeled, all perfect service be to her, as she beholds the King in His beauty."
Friday, January 21
New Story(?)
I'm thinking of starting a new story. No worries, it won't be anywhere near as long as the last one! But it'd be a decent length. So please be patient if the next few posts are simply my rambling thoughts attempting to coalesce into something resembling a story.
_____________
I am unable to decide whether I've been blessed or cursed. The information could be interpreted both ways. I am from Appalachian folk on my father's side, and hardy Norwegian stock on my mother's side. Now, those of you who know only one culture or the other (or neither) may wonder why this could be taken as a curse. Well, the Appalachian side of me likes to take it easy, enjoy life as it goes by, and avoid hard work when convenient. The Norwegian blood, however, is a different story. You ever wonder what happened to the Vikings? I used to. The modern Norwegians are rather stolid and unemotional, especially when compared to their forebears. I finally got it figured out. When they stopped their rampaging, all that fire and anger got turned inwards. This festered for years and finally turned into the Scandinavian guilt that all of us Norskies are so familiar with today. So when the warm Southern blood in me gets sluggish and wants to take time to smell the roses, that cold Norwegian vein pumps in a good load of guilt, and I freeze, unsure of where to go and unable to enjoy the place I'm in.
But both bloodlines balance themselves out a little, and sometimes work together. I got a double dose of wanderlust from my Scotch-Irish Appalachian roots when they mixed with that Viking blood. I'm a decently hard worker, but I can never work a job for very long. Every so often, that road just looks so tempting, and even the inner guilt isn't enough to stop this Southern Viking from wandering down it, in search of something better, or worse, of just plain different.
I've done alright for myself. I work enough to keep soul and body together. I never was much good at anything in particular, but I was decent at lots of middling things. I work whatever temporary jobs I can find, and have done some strange things in my time. I guess it's a little bit of an exaggeration to say that I'm not good at anything. I am, in fact, excellent at wandering. I can sleep in any location, find food in the midst of a desert, and work any job that doesn't tie me down. I must have run away from home a hundred times when I was a kid. My mother was confused, since I tended to run away quite cheerfully, with no grudge against anyone. My dad never could quite see why I'd want to go to all that trouble. But I guess when it turned out that running was the only thing I was good at, I decided to make a lifestyle of it. After all, there aren't too many people who seen all the things I've seen. And who knows, maybe those things needed someone like me to come along, someone who would see and appreciate them.
-------------------------
Ok, so not the most interesting beginning, I grant you. But some of the things that come along are interesting...
I'm thinking of starting a new story. No worries, it won't be anywhere near as long as the last one! But it'd be a decent length. So please be patient if the next few posts are simply my rambling thoughts attempting to coalesce into something resembling a story.
_____________
I am unable to decide whether I've been blessed or cursed. The information could be interpreted both ways. I am from Appalachian folk on my father's side, and hardy Norwegian stock on my mother's side. Now, those of you who know only one culture or the other (or neither) may wonder why this could be taken as a curse. Well, the Appalachian side of me likes to take it easy, enjoy life as it goes by, and avoid hard work when convenient. The Norwegian blood, however, is a different story. You ever wonder what happened to the Vikings? I used to. The modern Norwegians are rather stolid and unemotional, especially when compared to their forebears. I finally got it figured out. When they stopped their rampaging, all that fire and anger got turned inwards. This festered for years and finally turned into the Scandinavian guilt that all of us Norskies are so familiar with today. So when the warm Southern blood in me gets sluggish and wants to take time to smell the roses, that cold Norwegian vein pumps in a good load of guilt, and I freeze, unsure of where to go and unable to enjoy the place I'm in.
But both bloodlines balance themselves out a little, and sometimes work together. I got a double dose of wanderlust from my Scotch-Irish Appalachian roots when they mixed with that Viking blood. I'm a decently hard worker, but I can never work a job for very long. Every so often, that road just looks so tempting, and even the inner guilt isn't enough to stop this Southern Viking from wandering down it, in search of something better, or worse, of just plain different.
I've done alright for myself. I work enough to keep soul and body together. I never was much good at anything in particular, but I was decent at lots of middling things. I work whatever temporary jobs I can find, and have done some strange things in my time. I guess it's a little bit of an exaggeration to say that I'm not good at anything. I am, in fact, excellent at wandering. I can sleep in any location, find food in the midst of a desert, and work any job that doesn't tie me down. I must have run away from home a hundred times when I was a kid. My mother was confused, since I tended to run away quite cheerfully, with no grudge against anyone. My dad never could quite see why I'd want to go to all that trouble. But I guess when it turned out that running was the only thing I was good at, I decided to make a lifestyle of it. After all, there aren't too many people who seen all the things I've seen. And who knows, maybe those things needed someone like me to come along, someone who would see and appreciate them.
-------------------------
Ok, so not the most interesting beginning, I grant you. But some of the things that come along are interesting...
Tuesday, January 18
Hats are wonderful. My philosophy on hats: if you look good in hats, and you have a really cool hat, wear it. Forget about what's in style, just wear the darned hat.
(Translation: Joi, who looks good in hats, has just been given two vintage hats, complete with hat pins. Joi is very happy with the hats, and wears them a lot, even though it looks like she just stepped out of the 1950's. Joi doesn't care, and wears the hats anyway.)
(Translation: Joi, who looks good in hats, has just been given two vintage hats, complete with hat pins. Joi is very happy with the hats, and wears them a lot, even though it looks like she just stepped out of the 1950's. Joi doesn't care, and wears the hats anyway.)
Friday, January 14
Why So Lonely?
Why am I so lonely these past few days? Some of it is probably just the normal upset of having been away too long, and coming back. But still...2 of my roommates are getting married this summer, and so will be moving out, and the other two want different housing (well, one's undecided, but that's kind of how it looks right now).
I don't want to do this again. Every few years, all my friends move away at once, and I have to start all over again. I'm all for reaching out and making new friends, but I don't want this drastic turnover of community anymore. I want friends that will stick around, or at the very least, try to maintain the friendship. I understand that friendships change; but I've never had a steady friend for more than a few years, and I want that to change.
I envy people who have friends they've known since childhood. I have one or two friends from high school that I talk to once a year or so. That's it. And my college friendships are turning out that way, too, and I don't know why. It's never anything drastic, just a slow drifting towards other friends and interests.
I'm just tired of making friends in order to go through the pain of losing them. I don't want to do that anymore.
Why am I so lonely these past few days? Some of it is probably just the normal upset of having been away too long, and coming back. But still...2 of my roommates are getting married this summer, and so will be moving out, and the other two want different housing (well, one's undecided, but that's kind of how it looks right now).
I don't want to do this again. Every few years, all my friends move away at once, and I have to start all over again. I'm all for reaching out and making new friends, but I don't want this drastic turnover of community anymore. I want friends that will stick around, or at the very least, try to maintain the friendship. I understand that friendships change; but I've never had a steady friend for more than a few years, and I want that to change.
I envy people who have friends they've known since childhood. I have one or two friends from high school that I talk to once a year or so. That's it. And my college friendships are turning out that way, too, and I don't know why. It's never anything drastic, just a slow drifting towards other friends and interests.
I'm just tired of making friends in order to go through the pain of losing them. I don't want to do that anymore.
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