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?

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."

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.

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.

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.

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!

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!!

There is no scent in the world that sparks as much anticipation and yearning as that of an approaching rainstorm.

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.

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.

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. "

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. "

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.

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.

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!

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.

Ok, this is stinkin' FUNNY.

http://www.rinkworks.com/bookaminute/b/augustine.confessions.shtml

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

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.

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.

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.

You know what two of the best songs in the world are?

Sweet Home Alabama
Joy to the World (Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog)

Yep. Good songs.

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 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."