March 29, 2008
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration , 2commentsGood news: the beginning of chapter two of And His Ministers is up. That is, it’s good news if you’re enjoying the story, or really bored, or would like to critique my spin on Lord Peter. 
I have to say, though, that I may not consider myself much responsible for his actions. He has the habit of just rambling on and on as soon as I write the opening quotation marks for him. But I enjoy it… characters who do their own thing and keep me guessing what they’ll say or do next! (Side thought: it is, as the Newsboys said, “A real good thing” that the universe doesn’t operate in that way — God just wondering what they’d do next.) Anyway… Lord Peter seems to be rubbing off on me… I’ll be quiet, and you can get back to doing whatever you were doing or go read the next chapter.
Have a wonderful Sunday.
The Trip, Part One March 28, 2008
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration, smiling is good for you, I won't keep things purposely vague , 3commentsSaturday, March 15
We left home and drove, and drove, and drove. By 3:45, we were seeing the beautiful and majestic blue mountains of Virginia. And forests which looked as if orcs had been through. We also saw quite a few deer, who were all facing the wrong way for pictures. Either that, or I didn’t have my camera out. Of course. Murphy’s Law of Cameras. We then proceeded to get sadly lost as it was raining, but finally got to Staunton. 
We had dinner and got lost again looking for the OPC. It doesn’t work to well when you have actually mapquested the directions from your hotel to the Wal*Mart. Oops. Anyway, we got back in time for the Andy Griffith show. We love Barney Fife. Oh yes.
Sunday, March 16
We went to church in Staunton, which was lovely. (Yes, we found it! Don’t look so surprised!) We were (I’m not joking, and if you’re OPC, you ought to understand) the second people there even though we were only five minutes early. Ohhh yeah. But it worked out alright. In fact, we had a wonderful time after church with two of the kids — a brother (about a year younger than me) and his sister (about a year older). Almost everyone at the church said something like, “Oh! You must be our visitors from ________! We’ve heard all about you!” *wondering WHAT exactly they have heard about us* Sunday school was from Calvin’s Golden Booklet of the True Christian Life, the sermon was on Revelation 17.
Then we went to the pastor’s house for dinner. That was also lovely! We had a grand time with his three girls (and their dog), going on a long after-dinner walk. We tried what I’m coming to believe is the typical activity for OPC kids… singing hymns loudly (if rather off key) on our walk… sound familiar, anyone? But none of us could remember more than one verse, so we gave up. Our walk became so long that we started to wonder if we were going the whole way back to our house or what! But we did finally turn around and head for home (well, not home for us, I suppose). It took a much longer time to get back then it had to reach the point where we turned around, because we all kept freezing in place every few steps. 
Unfortunately, when us foot-sore and weary walkers did get back (well, okay, our feet weren’t that sore. We had switched out of church shoes into sneakers!) it was time for us to be leaving. The good news was, that meant heading for Williamsburg!
So, for your enjoyment, some conversations/quotes.
Background: Andrew had been insulting our state.
me: “Well, your squirrels are STUPID! They just sit in the middle of the road!”
Andrew: *smiles and nods* “Yeah, they probably are stupider. So our our neighbor’s dogs. They lay around in the middle of the road.”
me: “At least our squirrels aren’t that stupid. They tend to get off the road when a car comes, not sit there.”
Anne: *begins listening*
Andrew: “They probably learned from experience.”
me: “Mm, yeah, probably.” *blink* “ANDREW! How can you learn from experience when it involves being hit by trucks?!?”
Anne: “WHAT?”
Andrew: “It probably comes from seeing all your friends and relatives hit and killed.”
Anne: “What are you TALKING about?”
me: “Ohh… hmm. Maybe.”
Anne: “WHAT are you talking about?”
us: *laugh*
Andrew: (finally taking pity on her!) “Squirrels.”
Anne: “Protozoa are so cute!”
Elizabeth: “So what is normal, anyway?”
me: “I do not like nail polish…”
Elizabeth: “Me neither!”
me: “…my fingernails feel like they’re suffocating! Which everyone else finds strange!”
Elizabeth: “It feels too thick… no, it doesn’t feel good.”
Finally! Someone who understands me!
Elizabeth: “Oh, no!”
me: “What?”
Elizabeth: “Someone cut from the wrong side of the butter. Again.”
Ruth: “DADDY!”
Elizabeth: “It is most uncouth of him.”
me: *burying face in napkin*
Back to the story of the trip:
Everyone should get to drive towards Colonial Williamsburg after a day full of church and fellowship, friendship and laughter, with the sun shining through the trees on Palm Sunday.
But as wonderful as it can be, no where on earth is really home for us. So I look forward to another Homecoming; one which will truly be home, which won’t mean saying goodbye to other Christians, in which there will be no darkness at all. When the Last Battle shall be won. But I look forward to it in eager expectation, while enjoying the good gifts of God here.
Youth group randomness March 26, 2008
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration , 4comments(Yes, I am working on a post about our trip. But I’m slow. So I thought I’d do something else tonight.)
Youth group was rather amusing. Especially because Peter, who has been making “AIM Chronicles” of some of the funnier of his and my conversations, decided to make a fake AIM Chronicle. The cover looked in keeping with all the rest, but inside was no conversation at all. Rather, there were two pictures. Of my cow eye dissection.
Peter: “Lizzie! Come read this one!”
Lizzie: “Umm….. okay.” *looks at it* *eyes go perfectly round* “PEEEEEEEEEEEEETER!!!” *throws it at him*
Peter: *evil laughter*
Samwise: “What’s in there?”
Peter: “Come look!”
me: *knowing how Sam is about dissections* “NO Sam! Don’t look!”
Peter: “YES!”
me: “No. Really. You don’t want to.”
Samwise: “I am now extremely curious.”
me: “Um… I’ll tell you what it is.” *tells him*
Sam: O_O “UGH!”
Peter: “SEE?”
Sam: *avoids looking*
Peter: “Anya’s dissection!” (And he did not actually say Anya.)
Samwise: “YOU dissected it??”…
Peter: *gives it to Sheriya and Aubrey*
them: *scream*
Peter: *tricks Miss Dance into looking at it*
her: “UGH!” (By the way, she took the pictures.)
Josh: *is holding Aubrey*
her: *wants down*
Josh: *won’t set her down*
me: “Are you ticklish?”
Josh: “Do you want me to DROP her??”
me: “Um, she wants down!”
We played a game which involved smashing eggs taped on each other’s backs… um… yeah… anyway, I got Sean’s. Unfortunately, his bag came untaped in the process.
Sean: “Ha! You’re out too!”
me: 
“Here, do you want my egg?”
Sean: *considers* “Nah, you’re out. That’s enough for me.”
me: O_o
I had some excellent conversation with Samwise about older brothers, the differences between equality and sameness, male minds versus female minds… it was good. I vastly appreciate conversations with him, for which reason I vastly appreciate the LIFE conference… it was on the long bus ride home from that that he and I began really talking again. Not that we had ever stopped, it had just faded off as we both got older and busier, or something; I don’t really know why. Nonetheless, it’s good to have him back to talk to, to laugh with, and to just be friends.
And I think that I survived, more or less unscathed, Peter’s attack of me. Poor guy, hadn’t seen me in two weeks. >_< At least EVERYONE warned me, so I jumped onto a couch (astonishing how well I can jump, when my life depends on it!) and he barely hit me. Fortunately.
Annnnnyway, goodnight.
Notice: March 23, 2008
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration , 4commentsTo anyone who was concerned by my absence, or lack of response to emails, messages, IMs, comments, telepathy, or anything else, good news. I’m home. :) Bad news. I am no where NEAR caught up yet on all the things you people sent me. I read enough to be fairly sure that no one died and only one friend (as far as I know) got engaged. (Cheers for A2!)
There should be stories and pictures and maybe emails back and… *yawns*
If there is something really important, email it to me in all bold or something. Maybe my brain will be functioning by tomorrow. Hopefully.
Goodnight.
Salt in the Pop (Culture) II March 14, 2008
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , 2commentsI was thinking about the subject more (obviously) and a few more things came to mind. While I often do a lot of my thinking by writing about it, many ideas get “firmed up”, or at least somewhat straightened out and solidified through talking with other people about it. Chesterton wrote about this in Orthodoxy, saying, “In one sense, of course, all intelligent ideas are narrow.” In Heretics, he wrote,
The vice of the modern notion of mental progress is that it is always something concerned with the breaking of bonds, the effacing of boundaries, the casting away of dogmas. But if there be such a thing as mental growth, it must mean the growth into more and more definite convictions, into more and more dogmas. The human brain is a machine for coming to conclusions; if it cannot come to conclusions it is rusty. When we hear of a man too clever to believe, we are hearing of something having almost the character of a contradiction in terms. It is like hearing of a nail that was too good to hold down a carpet; or a bolt that was too strong to keep a door shut. Man can hardly be defined, after the fashion of Carlyle, as an animal who makes tools; ants and beavers and many other animals make tools, in the sense that they make an apparatus. Man can be defined as an animal that makes dogmas. As he piles doctrine on doctrine and conclusion on conclusion in the formation of some tremendous scheme of philosophy and religion, he is, in the only legitimate sense of which the expression is capable, becoming more and more human.
(The entire chapter — and, in fact, the entire books, to my great delight, can be found here: Heretics and Orthodoxy.)
But that is exactly what happens. Ideas become more firm, and I think that’s a good thing. I’ve been blessed with a lot of people who will discuss anything between them — I don’t talk about everything with all of them, although a few carry that burden have that privilege. From actual, real life talks in minivans on the way home from quizzes, to talking about sin and consequences at midnight on AIM, there have been so many conversations with people that have helped me think. Walking to and home from the mall with Mom is always a good time too. Much activity in the little grey cells; Poirot would be pleased, I’m sure.
But more importantly, I think that God is pleased. “Test everything,” wrote Paul. “Hold fast what is good.” (I Thessalonians 5:21) I’ve done a lot of testing. And a lot of conversations for other reasons.
The Gene Helsel reason: “Young men conversing on a bench in the park/ The Bible wide open throws a net in the dark/ The Master draws surely as the Gospel is read/ Calling men to Him as He said/ “Come and follow me and I/ Will make you become/ Fishers of men and/ Cast your nets and I will draw/ the nations of the world unto Myself”. I don’t always see where He’s throwing the net — but I do have the promise that
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
That reassures me that I don’t need to know what’s going on. Which is a good thing. Because quite a bit of the time, I don’t know what’s going on.
Another reason for the talking and talking is the Skillet reason:
I remember when we used to laugh about nothing at all
It was better than going mad
From trying to solve all the problems we’re going through
Forget ‘em all
Cause on those nights we would stand and never fall
Together we faced it all
Remember when we’d
Stay up late and we’d talk all night
In the dark room lit by the TV light
Through all the hard times in my life
Those nights kept me alive…
I remember when we used to drive anywhere but here
As long as we’d forget our lives
We were so young and confused
That we didn’t know to laugh or cry
Those nights were ours
They will live and never die
Together we’d stand forever
Remember when we’d
Stay up late and we’d talk all night
In the dark room lit by the TV light
Through all the hard times in my life
Those nights kept me alive…
While the whole song doesn’t apply very well to me (or what I’m talking about), some parts of it reminded me very much of conversations… especially last spring… didn’t know whether to laugh or cry… being young and confused. But being alright, staying alive… now I’m slipping into FFH’s song Watching Over Me…
And I’ll be alright
Safe inside
Stayin’ alive
As long as You are watching over me
Anyway, wow… I’ve really rambled here. But I realized that has been another major way I’ve been equipped for… everything. By talking about it with everyone. There is a lot to learn. There is a lot of iron sharpening iron — or, as Antion described it, wood being chiseled into something beautiful.
And it is good.
Salt in the Pop (Culture) March 12, 2008
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , 8commentsDo you have any thoughts on this quandary I’ve been feeling lately about raising children who are prepared for the times we live in? In a nutshell - when we were growing up pop culture was not Christian, but at the same time was generally not offensive. There were tv shows a family could watch together, you could find music that had good lyrics, etc. Now, not only is pop culture not Christian, it is (IMHO) offensive as well. So we (our family) basically live in the world of “Christian pop culture” - VeggieTales movies, Clubhouse magazine, CCM music - which is on the one hand (I hope) responsible and proper parenting. But is that preparing them for what they will face in 10-15 years? And if it isn’t, how do we do that, given the times we live in? Maybe your blogbuddies have some thoughts.
That is the question from my Uncle Bob aka Ferris. Mom is posting about it as well, so please read both posts (oh, c’mon, do you really have something else to do than read our posts??)
I think, in addition to what Mom says, I’ve been well equipped through the schooling which I’ve received. If you really have a lot of time, and I have somehow fallen behind on giving you reading assignments, read The Fabric of Faithfulness by Steve Garber. Preferably about five times. Because the first time your eyes will just glaze over. As they will the second time. But things may start to make sense by the third time… and… yes. You get the picture.
I’m going to insert here that I don’t object to all CCM. Some of it is very good. Some of it — Derek Webb’s album She Must and Shall Go Free comes to mind — has lasting value.
But the pop culture is all around, and, as Mom points out, what promotes itself as “Christian” culture really just tries to paint the decaying face of sin. Joost Nixon made that point beautifully in this article.
I know a lot of the moments that have prepared me were totally unscheduled. In fact, I’ve tried to keep a notebook of some of them since the summer of 2005. Steve Garber obviously was influential there, too, as I have written in the front cover
Learning to care
Only connect
Thank you to Steve Garber [he contributed those two lines, which summed things up nicely] and in an immeasurable way to those who taught me how to care.
Would it set me free
If I dared to let you see
The truth behind the person
That you imagine me to be? [Casting Crowns, Stained Glass Masquerade]
It must be different through your eyes, cause you look at me like it’s the first time that you’ve ever seen my face… [Sanctus Real, Eloquent]
The notebook itself is telling, of some of the moments in my life that have most caused my heart to ache. It’s me trying to work out, in some cases, what was happening. In other cases I was looking back at what had happened and seeing how it had made sense. (Yes, I always write a lot.)
“How do you speak? What do you say? How do you witness?” I wrote, trying to figure out what I had just been told. Because I couldn’t comprehend it. Not coming from someone I’d known almost all my life. No. Not someone I had trusted. Not someone who I had joked around with. I wrote, that time, about the shock, the desire to yell (words which some people would probably die if they found out that I knew), relief, a sense of God’s holiness… all at the same time. That’s the difficulty. We — like the Ringbearer — are called to live torn. More like Samwise, I guess. Both being in the world and not belonging.
Another day I wrote, “It’s broken, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know the answers.” Maybe that’s a difference. Even when I don’t know the answer, I know that there is an answer. One right answer. Not “whatever”. Not “well this is true for me and maybe not true for you”.
So I guess it is the same way with the question I started with. I don’t know exactly how to prepare anyone for what the world will be like in ten or fifteen years. I think, though, that we will be prepared if we are prepared to give an answer for the hope that is within us. And that means to Christians as well as non-Christians. It means living the hope. Seeing how God is working in life, enough to be able to look back and say, “Amazing grace”.
Please — really please, not just because I love comments — comment and let me know what you think. How do we live as Christians in a culture which tries to make everything of about as much substance as computer-generated veggies? How are we light and salt?
Death of a Salesman, the American Dream, and Biblical Success March 11, 2008
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , add a comment[Obviously from an Omnibus assignment. *grins*]
In Death of a Salesman, Willy was pursuing the elusive dreams of fame and wealth and popularity. None of them were dreams that could have contented him, yet he spent his life trying to attain them, and finally died, still grasping for them, believing that they could bring hope and redemption to his family.
The American dream – what James Adams defined as, “that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement… not a dream of motor cars and high wages merely, but a dream of social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recognized by other for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of life or position” – has become, if it was not always, a searching for self-salvation. People think that they reach their full potential by getting their full amount of stuff – but it is never enough. They think that they can make themselves happy, that if they have life and liberty and the freedom to pursue happiness, happiness must be something which can be found among themselves. This is not so. The only true happiness is the blessedness which Jesus spoke of in Matthew 5:2-12, when He named who the blessed (Greek. makarion – can also mean happy) were. Those who inherit even the earth are not those who have been more successful than their neighbors, but “the meek”. Those who are blessed/happy and have a great reward in heaven are those who are persecuted on earth.
This definition of happiness is one which leaves the world reeling in shock. It has nothing to do with what our culture likes to define as success. It sounds painful and hard and lonely… and not publicized. But God’s definition of success is not the same as that of the world. Success in the Bible only happens to those whom God is with, those who keep His commandments – those who are faithful. Sometimes God sees fit to bless that by sending prosperity while we are on earth. But other times that success looks like death. It was certainly so in the case of Christ as He died on the cross. It seemed that His life had been thrown away meaninglessly. Derek Webb captured this uncomfortable truth in his song What Is Not Love. “What looks like failure is success/ and what looks like poverty is riches/ when what is true looks more like a knife/ it looks like you’re killing me/ but you’re saving my life”. Steven Curtis Chapman, MercyMe, and Third Day also addressed this in their song I See Love, pointing out both what the world sees in the death of Christ and what it really was – love and grace on the part of God. Isaiah, writing long before Jesus was even born, said, “Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied” (Isaiah 53:11).
True satisfaction, or contentment, can only come from doing the will of God. Because Willy Loman does not look in that direction at all, he ends his own life, discontent but still disillusioned. Although he has lived a hollow lie for years, chasing after a chimerical dream, he dies believing that money will bring happiness to his family. For this reason, the play Death of a Salesman really is a tragedy, ending without hope. It only paves the way for more desolated lives and foundationless dreams.
Cheery post for you all… hmm… I’ll have to do something about that.
Relient K and Romans March 8, 2008
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , 3commentsI was doing Omnibus. (Has anyone noticed me how many interesting ideas strike me when I’m doing Omni?) Anyway, I was answering some of the questions on Mein Kampf, and we got into Romans and how problems (such as sickness) stem ultimately from sin, and how they lead to death.
I was also listening to Relient K. Maybe to block out the noise from whatever the younger kids were doing, or more probably because I had just gotten the CD and wanted to listen to it again, and I like multi-tasking. Most of the time.
Anyway, the timing worked out (as it so often does) in a way which made my brain flicker into the on position. Reading Romans, listening to Deathbed… aha, yes.
And to be clear, I don’t think I agree with all the theology in this song — they have so much fun writing cryptically *cough* that sometimes it’s difficult to be certain if I agree or disagree or am just simply lost. But it was interesting.
I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can’t believe this is the end
But this is my deathbed
I lie here alone
If I close my eyes tonight
I know I’ll be home The year is 1941
I was eight years old and far, far too young
To know that the stories of battles and glory
Was a tale a kind mother made up for a son
You see, Dad was a traveling preacher
Teaching the words of the Teacher
Mother had sworn he went off to the war
And died there with honor, somewhere on a beach there
But he left once to never return
Which taught me that I should unlearn
Whatever I thought a father should be
I abandoned that thought like he abandoned me
By ‘47, I was fourteen
I’d acquired a taste for liquor and nicotine
I smoked until I threw up, yet I still lit ‘em up
For thirty more years, like a machine
So right there you have it
That one filthy habit
Is what got me where I am today
I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can’t believe this is the end
I can hear the sad memories
Still haunting me
So many things I’d do again
But this is my deathbed
I lie here alone
If I close my eyes tonight
I know I’ll be home
Got married on my twenty-first
Eight months before my wife would give birth
It’s easier to be sure you love someone
When a father inquires with the barrel of a gun
The union was far from harmonious
No two people could’ve been more alone than us
The years would go by and she’d love someone else
And I’d realized I hadn’t been loved yet myself
From there it’s your typical spiel
Yeah, if life was a highway, I was drunk at the wheel
I was helpin’ the loose ends all fall apart
Yeah, I swear I was destined to fail, and fail from the start
I bowled about six times a week
A bottle of Beam kept the memories from me
Our marriage had taken a 7–10 split
And along with my pride, the ex-wife took the kids
I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can’t believe this is the end
I can hear those sad memories
Still haunting me
So many things I’d do again
But this is my deathbed
I lie here alone
If I close my eyes tonight
I know I’ll be home
I was so scared of Jesus but He sought me out
Like the cancer in my lungs that’s killing me now
And I’ve given up hope on the days I have left
But I cling to the hope of my life in the next
Then Jesus showed up, said, “Before we go up
I thought that we might reminisce
See, one night in your life, when you turned out the lights
You asked for and prayed for My forgiveness
“You cried, wolf; the tears they soaked your fur
The blood dripped from your fangs
You said, ‘What have I done?’
You loved that lamb with every sinful bone
And there you wept alone
Your heart was so contrite
“You said, ‘Jesus, please forgive me of my crimes
Sanctify this withered heart of mine
Stay with me until my life is through
And on that day, please take me home with You’ “
I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can’t believe this is the end
I can hear You whisper to me
“It’s time to leave
You’ll never be lonely again”
But this was my deathbed
I died there alone
When I closed my eyes tonight
You carried me home
I am the Way
Follow me and take my hand
And I am the Truth
Embrace me and you’ll understand
And I am the Life
And through me you’ll live again
For I am Love
I am Love
I…I am Love
This song really seems to do a good job summing up some of the teachings of Romans. We are surrounded by death. Its smell is everywhere, because we are dead.
Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned—
I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can’t believe this is the end
Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, … you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to lawlessness leading to more lawlessness… But what fruit were you getting at that time from the things of which you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death.
From there it’s your typical spiel
Yeah, if life was a highway, I was drunk at the wheel
I was helpin’ the loose ends all fall apart
Yeah, I swear I was destined to fail, and fail from the start…
So right there you have it
That one filthy habit
Is what got me where I am today
…even us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles? As indeed he says in Hosea,
“Those who were not my people I will call ‘my people,’
and her who was not beloved I will call ‘beloved.’”
“And in the very place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’
there they will be called ‘sons of the living God.’”
I was so scared of Jesus but He sought me out…
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us…For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
And I’ve given up hope on the days I have left
But I cling to the hope of my life in the next…
The line, “I was so scared of Jesus but He sought me out” has a very Hound of Heaven feel to it — or, to go with the Newsboys reference, “Heaven still hounds from the smallest sounds to the cries of the storm-tossed” [Elle G].
If you managed to follow this post, I think I’m impressed. It is one of the dangers of quizzing… there are all these pieces of Romans floating around in my head, sort of in the same way things wander around in Arthur Dent’s head, searching for something to connect to.
Have a lovely day.
Laughter is good for you, right? March 7, 2008
Posted by Anya in : spontaneous degeneration, smiling is good for you , 3comments[This was supposed to be posted last night, but reformedblogs went bananas. Oh well.]
Last night the guys were running around in the gym.
me: “Samwise, it’s fun to watch you all being crazy with the football.”
Sam: “Really?” *look of mild agony [is that an oxymoron?]* “I drank too much ….”
What I heard: wine.
What he said: ‘wian… punch.
That took me a minute to figure out.
Sam L sent me a picture of when he was a baby. He’s sitting in a paper bag. I have no idea why. It’s one of the funniest things I’ve seen in ages, though. His description: “im in like a bag haha“ Haha is right. I laughed so hard that Ibey came down from where he had been supposedly asleep to see what was so funny.
Ben B, who was going for the Sounds-Most-Like-A-Fortune-Cookie award said to me:
New experience happen to us all the time.
They make life exciting.
Seriously. Couldn’t he get a job writing fortunes? Well, probably not a good occupation for a Calvinist. Rats.
Christine remembered to send me a Garfield comic. With one pathetic snow-thing (not really a flake) falling and Garfield saying, “Great. Now I’ll be stuck here till the snowplows come.” It would not have been as funny before I had friends in warmer states.
And I’m re-reading A Severe Mercy, which is one of the greatest books I’ve ever read. It makes me laugh. And cry.
And I really had been planning to do a more serious post, but after Sam’s picture it was not going to work out tonight. My apologies to anyone who was really terribly disappointed; feel free to read some of the old ones.
And finally, much as I dislike some of Relient K’s songs, the one which goes “I just wasted ten seconds of your life” amuses me immensely.
Goodnight, and God bless you. I enjoy the comments, I enjoy posting, and yes, I enjoy laughing.
March 5, 2008
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , 2commentsLet’s see. I feel like posting about my friends, because I have some awesome ones. Even the ones with whom I only talk online.
First of all, there were people’s helpful reactions to our car-crash-thingy yesterday. Abby cyber-hugged me. Christine made gaspy-oh-no-are-you-okay type noises. Griffin was sympathetic. Peter asked me tonight, “Are you sure you’re undamaged???” (Honestly, I took a minute to figure out what he was talking about.) And then there were also the helpful people at the time of the crash — the guy who crashed into us, the man who pulled over to make sure that everything was all right, and the girl working in Arby’s. See, Mom sent me in to call Dad. Well, no where has payphones anymore. So I stood there looking around helplessly until the girl behind the counter said, “Um… can I help you?” I said, “Do you have a phone?” She pulled out her cellphone and handed it to me!
Then there are the friends who say things like this to me: “I hate to say this, but since we’ve always been honest with each other: I thought Two Lefts Don’t Make a Right and Mmmhmm were better.” (That was Samwise, by the way, referring to the fact that I had just bought Five Score and Seven Years Ago). It sort of cracked me up, because he takes honesty to such a level, but on the other hand, it’s part of the reason I’m friends with him. I can trust him to be honest… about… really, anything. Even CDs.
And tonight I had my group at youth group. Sometimes I start to feel like I have satellites! But really, it was funny, because at the beginning of this school year, a seat next to me on the couch vacated. (Yes, we’re very boring, we all tend to sit in the same places every week.) That was because Arika left for college. :( So Caleb started sitting next to me. And sitting was it. As in, we sat next to each other, but didn’t even think of talking. Well, tonight Arika was back from college, and (of course) claimed the seat next to me. Caleb: O_O “You stole my seat!” And then he and Arika started reading the AIM Chronicles which Peter has been publishing of various random convos he and I have. *rolls eyes* And Richard just watched us like we were all crazy. Which we are, so he’s reasonable enough. And then we all started laughing, which left Aubrey staring at us. Oh well. It was fun. Dumb, but fun. I realized it’s the kind of casual fun that definitely would not have been happening back in August, when Caleb never talked to me and I still thought Richard was a quiet person. *sighs*
There were all kinds of fun quotes tonight from youth group, too, and Peter commanded me to put up the “GIVE ME BACK MY BLING!!!!” He and Kristen had stolen Sheriya’s necklace and refused to give it back until he suddenly *decided* to give it back. I think that had something to do with Samwise forcing him to. :P Odd timing… quite coincidental, I’m sure!
And then the wonderful world of IM. I got to talk to Anika about Nazi Germany and such (fun!) and Antion this morning. Randomness from Antion: he broke his silver ring playing the bongos. Mhmm. The things that I hear when I ask “que pasa?” But it was good to talk with him… even if it was only for fifteen minutes… because he is someone who I can talk to about absolutely anything.
So there. And I obviously have loads of friends who didn’t get mentioned, but these were a few. And they are awesome. 
And I am richly blessed to have them.
