Sometimes I wish I knew what to say… November 28, 2007
Posted by Anya in : Uncategorized , 1 comment so farWhat do you say when you find out that a friend’s mom is dying? When the friend is a year younger than you and has five younger siblings?
So I say that I don’t know what to say, which is true, and remind him of John 16.
And pray.
And get Jars of Clay’s song Oh My God stuck in my head.
Oh my God, look around this place
Your fingers reach around the bone
You set the break and set the tone
Flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain
All fools say, “Oh my God”
Oh my God, Why are we so afraid?
We make it worse when we don’t bleed
There is no cure for our disease
Turn a phrase, and rise again
Or fake your death and only tell your closest friend
Oh my God.
Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief
Weddings, boats and alibis
All drift away, and a mother cries
Liars and fools; sons and failures
Thieves will always say
Lost and found; ailing wanderers
Healers always say
Whores and angels; men with problems
Leavers always say
Broken hearted; separated
Orphans always say
War creators; racial haters
Preachers always say
Distant fathers; fallen warriors
Givers always say
Pilgrim saints; lonely widows
Users always say
Fearful mothers; watchful doubters
Saviors always say
Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we’re better,
Scales were gone and faces light
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes,
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes,
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children - this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers - this is our greatest offense
Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God
And then we talk about other things. Is it just making background noise? Or is it because life does still go on? Or is it foreground noise, because we don’t want to hear what is going on in the background? Is that cowardice, or bravery, or something else? I don’t know.
But it’s what I do, because it’s the best thing I can think of.
My family is… odd. November 25, 2007
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration, smiling is good for you , 3commentsThanksgiving:
Chrissie is laying on the bench before dinner, “napping”.
Ross is laying on the couch, “napping”. (He decided that couch space would be at a premium after dinner and that it was more sensible to have his nap before dinner.)
Chrissie takes a ballcap which said NRA ILA.
Ross proclaims that NRA stands for Niece Reclining in America.
I decided that ILA stands for In Livingroom Area.
Then we start on Ross’ cap.
NIKE
Not Interested in Kangaroo Expeditions.
This sentence caught my eye last night. November 24, 2007
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , 2commentsOurs is the only civilization in history which has enshrined mediocrity as its national ideal.
The quote with more context is, “Our civilization has achieved a distinction of sorts. It will not be remembered for its techology or even its wars but for its novel ethos. Ours is the only civilization in history which has enshrined mediocrity as its national ideal. Others have been corrupt, but leave it to us to invent the most undistinguished of corruptions. No orgies, no blood running in the streets, no babies thrown off of cliffs. No, we’re sentimental people and we horrify easily. True, our moral fiber is rotten. Our national character stinks to high heaven. But we are kinder than ever. No prostitute ever responded witha quicker spasm of sentiment when our hearts are touched. Nor is there anything new about about thievery, lewdness, lying, adultery. What is new is that in our time liars and thieves and whores and adulterers wish also to be congratulated and are congratulated by the great public, if their confession is sufficently psychological or strikes a sufficiently heartfelt and authentic note of sincerity. Oh, we are sincere. I do not deny it. I don’t know anybody nowadays who is not sincere… We are the most sincere Laodiceans who ever got flushed down the sinkhole of history.”
So I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on that quote. I’ll tell you where it’s from if you really must know, but for now I want your thoughts without that bias.
But be encouraged, even if it is true and our culture’s ideal is being mediocre… About our God it is said,
“Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods?
Who is like you, majestic in holiness,
awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders?”
And, as a final note, what I quite randomly have stuck in my head…
Staying up all night staring at the stars
Staying up all night playing this guitar.
Not that I can play the guitar. I can identify that quote too, but won’t, unless I’m jumped on for breaking copyright laws.
Spock and the Other One: The lost episode of Star Trek November 21, 2007
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration, smiling is good for you , 1 comment so farWarning: Spoilers follow. However, it doesn’t matter. I don’t think you have a chance of ever seeing this episode.
Kirk sat on a bench in the dressing room in Wal*Mart, looking anxiously at Spock. The Vulcan looked abnormally pale; something in Earth’s atmosphere, or in the supermarket, was not agreeing with him and he was drifting off to sleep. The starship captain looked up for a moment, and when he looked back at Spock… well, Spock wasn’t there. As he went to sleep, he had disappeared.
Kirk jumped up and ran out to the girl working outside the dressing rooms. “Help,” he panted. “My friend is lost.” He realized (in typically brilliant Kirk-style) that it would help her if he described him. “He’s about this tall,” he added, holding out his hand, “and his hair is dark and cut like this, and he has big dark eyes and odd eyebrows.”
“That’s for sure,” inserted McCoy dryly.
She helped them look for Spock, but all they found was a beautiful girl laying on the floor in another dressing room.
And now, Abby-fashion, I’m going to just say that basically they figured out that every time Spock fell asleep, he was disappearing and a girl (I think her name was Libby) was appearing in his place… she had done something terrible and been condemned to walk around forever under the outer crust of the earth. However, for some reason, she was released from this curse whenever Spock fell asleep. I believe that it had something to do with his bloodtype.
Annoyingly enough, I woke up before the whole thing was really resolved in my mind. My favorite moment is definitely McCoy’s, “That’s for sure.” It was so exactly him. The general aura of confusion is not helped by the fact that I was, for most of the dream, stuck in Kirk’s mind.
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Samwise (10:37:18 PM): |
that’s logical |
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me (10:37:25 PM): |
You sound like Spock. |
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me (10:37:31 PM): |
=) |
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Samwise (10:37:45 PM): |
\/ |
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Samwise (10:37:48 PM): |
o |
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me (10:37:51 PM): |
hahaha |
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Samwise (10:38:02 PM): |
did you het that? |
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me (10:38:07 PM): |
yes I did! |
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Samwise (10:38:10 PM): |
*get |
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Samwise (10:38:23 PM): |
that’s great! looking at it, I don’t see how |
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me (10:39:12 PM): |
Well, we just finished watching the entire original season II. So… and I had a dream the other night about Kirk, Spock, and McCoy (he’s my favorite =) ) beaming down to Wal*Mart. |
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Samwise (10:39:23 PM): |
ha! |
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me (10:40:05 PM): |
Spock got lost and Kirk was trying to describe him… “He has kinda odd eyebrows…” McCoy: “That’s for sure!” |
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Samwise (10:40:37 PM): |
hahaha! and the cashier just stares, right? |
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me (10:42:15 PM): |
Well, I think that she actually went and tried to help him find Spock… don’t ask me why she wasn’t more alarmed about them being in the ladies’ dressing rooms… but… I guess she was having a boring day. |
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Samwise (10:42:55 PM): |
wow, this sounds like a don’t-want-to-wake-up dream, b/c it’s so funny
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He was right, it was a pretty hysterical dream.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.
From Michael Kelly Blanchard… November 21, 2007
Posted by Anya in : smiling is good for you, I won't keep things purposely vague , add a commentFrom Michael Kelly Blanchard…
Enter the top ten sorcerers/They were as sparkling as can be/They said “King, what’s on your mind?”/He said, “You tell me.”/Well they all got these sick little grins/They said, “You must be puttin’ us on…. [Daniel, from Daniel 2]
Oh the man, Gideon/ Was his father’s smallest son/And as the neighborhood boys did run/He was kinda puny/Now well his people lived in caves/’Cause the times were rather grave/They hardly washed and never shaved/And were always gloomy/…/And God said, “Well, my friend…/You got too many men…/I tell you most of them/You just won’t be needing.”/ Gideon turned gray/Said, “God, whatever You say,/ But let’s not get carried away/With this… weeding./…/I’m just a healthy little man/Who’d like to stay that way as long as he can…/Three hundred men?” [Gideon]
A taste of grace is all it takes
A morsel of the Maker
Face to face, the bitter heart breaks
And salt pours from the shaker… [Taste of
The Quotable Ib November 19, 2007
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration, smiling is good for you , 2comments |
Currently Listening “CarTunes: The Lighter Side of Michael Kelly Blanchard” By Michael Kelly Blanchard Glory Streams see related |
Ib, of course, being the derivative of my youngest brother’s nickname (used only by myself, thank you very much) Ibey, which was in itself a shortened version of the nickname Ibonek… and if you can’t figure that out, you don’t understand the way my mind works. Aaaaanyway:
“Their house was like a ginger.” ~ about the house of friends which we were at tonight. He did correct that to, “Like a gingerbread.”
“I wish you were a boy and went to Harvard.” ~ to me tonight in the car. (me: “Harvard???“ Ib: *duh* ”You know, the college.” Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.)
“If you weren’t my sister, I’d marry you.” ~ also to me, although that was a few weeks ago.
And that is it, because it is late and I’m tired, and those are all the quotes which I’d thought of to put up. Take care.
November 17, 2007
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration , 4commentsYesterday Haiden IM’d me, asking who I was.
I, being mean that way, made him guess.
David G?
Ummm… no.
Andrew?
No.
Sam?
No.
Would it help if I mentioned that I was a girl?
It seemed that it would.
So once we got that straightened out, we talked about Patrick Henry. “Who’s Patrick Henry?”
What do they teach in those schools?
We talked about books, and semi-argued if the Halo books really count as BOOKS. I said that it’s vicarious video-gaming.
It was a rather odd discussion.
Let’s see. Next week we have Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday off. *great rejoicing* I don’t think we’ve had any days off since we got started full-time, back in August. That’s good news!
Thursday’s post, being put up rather late November 17, 2007
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration, smiling is good for you , 1 comment so farSo let’s see. Anything that anyone wants to hear about? Ah yes. Let’s start with a week ago. Last Thursday we got to see our friends who moved this summer! (That face being because we got to see them, not because they moved.)
We walked into the house — attempted to walk into the house, I ought to say — and were promptly caught by about five or six of them who needed hugs. Deprived of our presence since May, imagine! Of course, as soon as they were done hugging us and had been convinced that they should actually let us ENTER the house (thank you, thank you very much), they began throwing squishy icky rubber insects all over us. Ha.
Aaaaand Madeline and I talked and talked and talked, trying to catch up, and Alexandra talked, and Abigail talked, and presumably others would have talked if we had fallen silent for more than 17 seconds at a pop. Oh well.
Quotes and such, in part:
“This bug is SQUIRTING stuff now!”
“Daisy! Get DOWN!!!”
Tipping over our table constantly
“Sophia laughs like — oh! See! There, she’s doing it!”
“Andrew sounds so fake when he laughs.”
Going to the nice peaceful spot which suddenly ceased to be peaceful. 
me: “So then he proposed to her, and she said no, and so he proposed to the girl next to her, and she said no, so he proposed to the girl next to HER…”
Madeline: “See those guys standing back there? They just were giving you the WEIRDEST look!”
*at the playground*
*another little girl and her mom come*
*they leave*
Alexandra: “You chased them away!!!!”
me: “Um… oh well.”
Emma: *rather randomly* “You look a lot like your mother.”
Miss Dance: *trying to pull Ethan out of the swing*
us: *standing there laughing our heads off being ever so helpful*
someone looks at their watch: “AAAAAH! We’re supposed to be home… NOW!”
*everyone except Emma starts running*
*we get way ahead of her and wait up for her*
*we should have just walked in the first place*
And now my favorite Thursday quote… and sometimes favorite Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday and Friday quote as well…
“This must be a Thursday,” said Arthur to himself… “I never could get the hang of Thursdays.”
Thoughts from Lewis November 15, 2007
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , 2commentsMonday I read Letters to an American Lady by CS Lewis. As all of his work does, it revealed some new insights into his mind. And there were, of course, some fun quotes. Some reminded me of something in particular, some I just found interesting to think about. So here goes, in order of appearance:
“Heb. Kherub is from the same root as Gryphon… That shows you what they [cherubs]’re really like!”
“Not… that your relief had not in fact occured before my prayer, but as if, in tenderness for my puny faith God moved me to pray with special earnestness just before he was going to give me the thing. How true that our prayers are really His prayers; He speaks to Himself through us. (Romans 8:26-27)”
“But I have long known that the talk about Brotherhood, wherever it occurs, in America or here, is hypocrisy. Or rather, the man who talks it means ‘I have no superiors’: he does not mean ‘I have no inferiors’. How loathsome it all is!”
“Do our prayers sometimes go wrong because we insist on trying to talk to God when He wants to talk to us.”
“Remember what St. John says “If our heart condemn us, God is stronger than our heart.” The feeling of being, or not being, forgiven and loved, is not what matters. One must come down to brass tacks. If there is a particular sin on your conscience, repent and confess it. If there isn’t, tell the despondent devil not to be silly… You see, one must always get back to the practical and definite. What the devil loves is that vague cloud of unspecified guilt feeling or unspecified presumption by which he lures us into despair or presumption. “Details, please?” is the answer.”
The Scottish paraphrase of Psalm 137:8-9:
“O blessed may that trooper be
Who, riding on his naggie
Wull tak thy wee bairns by the taes
And ding them on the craggie”.
“One pines for light and, scarcely less, shadows, which make up so much of the beauty of the world.”
“And again, how strange that God brings us into such intimate relations with creatures of whose real purpose and destiny we remain forever ignorant. We know to some degree what angels and men are for. But what is a flea for, or a wild dog?”
“I also get a quite new feeling about “If you forgive you will be forgiven”. I don’t believe it is, as it sounds, a bargain. The forgiving and the being forgiven are really the very same thing.”
Part II November 12, 2007
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , add a commentOkay. Not to harp on the subject, but this’ll be one more post regarding my last post and then the topic can probably go for a while, unless anyone wants to keep it going in comments or IM’s or so forth. I just don’t want the whole blog to turn into a debate on how we are saved.
Apparently I totally, absolutely, failed to make clear that James Ward’s song is not a good summary of Charles Finney’s theology; it is pretty much the antithesis. I am sorry about that; rereading the post I can see where I did not make that distinction. (Kinda forgot that you can’t hear the tone of voice I was saying some things in.)
I still like the church as the bride analogy. I think it’s valid and Biblical. The truth is, the wedding hasn’t happened yet. The marriage feast is yet to come, and at that time, Christ’s bride will look at Him and say, “I do.” Right now we are in the period between being redeemed and saying those words – the courtship period, if you’ll have it thus, the time when we, individually, and collectively as the Church, are being sanctified so that we can be presented to Him a “strong, pure, spotless Bride.”
Why He would want the bride He chose is another story all together and it’s one that we really haven’t heard yet. But it is as Derek Webb said… “Truth is, God would rather die than be without Her, and She is both wretched and radiant.”
And finally, the matter doesn’t really end with what we think sounds nicer. It ends with what is the best way to describe the truths of the Bible — that’s what we, as Christians, are required to believe, like it or not. RC Sproul talks about that in Chosen By God.
So keep thinking. Keep talking. I love it.
And now I think that I shall quote some Hitchhiker’s Guide, just because this post seems like it could use a less serious ending.
“It could always be replaced,” said Benjy reasonably, “if you think it’s important.”
“Yes, an electronic brain,” said Frankie, “a simple one would suffice.”
“A simple one!” wailed Arthur.
“Yeah,” said Zaphod with a sudden evil grin, “you’d just have to program it to say What? and I don’t understand and Where’s the tea? Who’d know the difference?”
“What?” cried Arthur, backing away still farther.
Where is the tea, anyway?
(posted this the other day on xanga and forgot to put it here too… oops.)
