only let me see Your face

I'm only on the sixth page of Augustine's Confessions. This book cannot be swallowed whole.

Oh, that I might repose on You! Oh, that You would enter into my heart and inebriate it, that I may forget my ills and embrace You, my sole good! What are You to me? In Your pity, teach me to utter it. Or what am I to you that you demand my love, and, if I do not give it, are angry with me and threaten me with grievous woes? Is it then a slight woe not to love You? Oh, for Your mercies' sake, tell me, Lord my God, what You are to me. "Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation" (Ps. 35:3). So speak, that I may hear. Behold, Lord, my heart is before You; open the ears of it, and "say unto my soul, I am thy salvation." After this voice let me run and take hold on You. Do not hide Your face from me. Let me die--for fear that I die--only let me see Your face.

the tables turned

At the end of a semester,
with the beauty of Spring all around...

The Tables Turned

UP! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless--
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:--
We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.

Wordsworth, 1798.

covered in the dust of the rabbi

And if the rabbi believed that you were the best of the best, that you were able to become a rabbi, He would say, “Lech Acharai – Come, follow me.” And you would leave your family. You would leave your family compound. You would leave your village. You would leave the local synagogue where you had been studying. You would leave everything and you would follow that rabbi. You would become a talmudeen, a disciple, a student. You would give your life to being exactly like that rabbi. And you would follow him everywhere.

One of the Mishnah rabbis would tell disciples or students, “May you be covered in the dust of your rabbi.” Because you would have a rabbi come to the village and behind him would be these tamudeen following right behind him. And the roads were dusty. So these disciples who closely followed their rabbis would get covered with the dust of their rabbi.

You wanted to be so much like your rabbi that when your rabbi would pick up a piece of straw and put it in his mouth then you would. And you would follow this rabbi everywhere. Because the rabbi believes that you can be like him.

Please, please, read the whole thing.

ftw

The other day I realized I'm old. I kept seeing people writing FTW! and FTL! all over the place, and I had no idea what they meant. It was LOLspeak that I haven't mastered.

So I looked it up.

FTW = For the win! Like the perfect last-second shot in a basketball game, or a sneaky move in Clue that allows you to make the accusation right before everyone else figures it out.

FTL = For the lose! It's the opposite. The last-second shot that misses. The stupid move that costs the game.

It puts me in mind of another I-Can-Has-Chezburger type phrase that's popping up all over the internet -- and sometimes in conversation.

FAIL (or FAILURE)= The appropriate label for most Funniest Home Videos, the thing said (or thought) when someone forgets the punchline of their joke, and the adjective that terrifies us all.

Failure.

In the last 48 hours I've realized that I'm about to graduate. Again. In less than a week I will have fulfilled all the requirements of my Master's program, and this time there is no fixed plan to keep on with any kind of schooling. I'm certainly not planning on another degree any time soon.

What this means is that playtime is over and the 'real' world is knocking. I need to get a job, start paying off the loans, and re-orient myself to a life where I'm defined by things other than my major.

And the spectre over my shoulder is that elusive whisper: Failure.

I might not be able to get work, or have to work something menial in order to make ends meet. I might never get a call from any of the jobs I apply for. I might have to move home. I might not make any progress toward anything now that I don't have the clearly defined goal of a degree. I might really screw up the opportunities that come along.

It's terrifying.

But then I remember the gospel. And my God, and His love, and His grace.

I'm going to screw it up, in one way or another. It's pretty much a definite. But I have a God who is never disappointed in me, who's love for me is endless, and who is in the habit of turning mistakes into miracles.

Because of Jesus, the big red "failure" label I fear will never be able to stick to me.

Jesus died and then rose again. And he's showing me how, too.

FTW!

sick day

I've been out with a nasty flu-cold-thing for a few days. I've officially decided that being sick as an 'adult' is not nearly as great as being sick when you're a kid.

In my pre-tonsillectomy years, I often got strep throat twice a month, all winter long. There was a little glamor in going to the nurse's office, a little vindication that I wasn't faking it when her thermometer said I had a fever. Mom would buy "feel better pop" (ginger ale) and hard candy and popsicles to soothe my throat, and tuck me in on the couch with a blanket. It was the only time I ever got to watch "The Price is Right," and it was wonderful.

I'm glad that my parents were not of the "school or bed" variety when it came to sick days. They let me read, or play Super Mario, or watch TV, so long as I was resting. They nursed me until I was feeling better, then they helped me get back on track with my missed schoolwork. Granted, I wasn't the kind of kid to abuse their help, either -- I can only think of a couple times that I exaggerated illness to get out of school.

Anyway, today I'm thankful for my parents, and for the way they took care of me. And they're still taking care of me: just yesterday my mom and Frances spent 20 minutes suggesting soft foods I should get at the store and debating which would be the best medicine for me to take. They're awesome.

coming clean

I have a little confession to make.

...

Prepare yourself.

...

I'm slightly obsessed with a website called The Pioneer Woman.

A city-girl who married a rancher and moved to the country writes it. The site includes a daily blog about life on the ranch, being a mother of four, and all the crazy and wonderful things that happen to her. She's got a blog about life, a blog about homeschooling, a blog about cooking (amazing!!), and a 43-chapter (so far) story of her romance with her husband, called Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. Oh, and for good measure, blogs about photography and home/garden, as well.

Since she's a photographer, all her blog posts are photo-heavy and generally quick to read. And delightful.

This morning at breakfast I read some fantastic blog posts: Mateo's most recent Twilight one (hysterical, I guffawed), a great 22 Words post about funny-sounding words, SCL, and three Pioneer woman posts.

But this one made my heart absolutely sing, because I have been every single kid in the post, as well as the one watching out the window.

Read it.

Delight.

And then call me, and we'll get together and be tightrope walkers in Duluth, or bungee jumpers in El Salvador, or (haha) vampires in Oregon.

It'll be fun!

george herbert: the passion

Since blood is fittest, Lord, to write
Thy sorrows in, and bloody fight;
My heart hath store; write there, where in
One box doth lie both ink and sin:

That when sin spies so many foes,
Thy whips, thy nails, thy wounds, thy woes,
All come to lodge there, sin may say,
No room for me, and fly away.

Sin being gone, oh fill the place,
And keep possession with thy grace;
Lest sin take courage and return,
And all the writings blot or burn.

greatest commandment

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. (Mark 12:30)

What would it be like to love God with all of my mind? Probably it would involve lots of conscious praise and worship, and certainly being very careful to only dwell on things that are pleasing to Him. (You know, the true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, praiseworthy, excellent stuff ala Phil 4:8)

Moreover, it would involve something akin to Brother Lawrence's practice of God's presence, doing everything (EVERYTHING) out of love for God. Peeling potatoes out of love for God. Getting on the bus out of love for God. Straightening my hair out of love for God. Going to bed before 2 AM out of love for God.

(Or maybe God wouldn't have me straighten my hair for Him at all. Kind of vain. But he might let me anyway, because he's so gracious, and if I tried to do it out of love for Him I bet it would make Him smile.)

Anyway, when I think about stuff like living according to the first commandment, I don't have a hard time imagining what it might be like. And in my imagination, it's pretty awesome. Living by the Spirit, buddy-buddy with God all the time, super-Holy-Spirit-power for resisting sin, hearing the voice behind me saying "This is the way, walk in it."

Thing is, I've got no discipline. And a very sinful heart. And the loving, motherly control-freak helper in me wants to boil it down into simple steps that a dunce like me could maybe follow:

1. Wake up in the morning, and sing songs of praise right away. Leave a post-it on the alarm clock so you don't forget and snooze too long. Take an extra few minutes to pray about the day's schedule.
2. Read the Bible over a bowl of oatmeal and cup of tea. You'll be glad you did.
3. Write 3x5 cards and post-its of all the great, inspiring, convicting Bible verses you want to learn. If you see them every time you look in the mirror/kitchen cabinet/trunk of the car, they'll surely sink in eventually.
4. Have a negative thought? Make up for it by counting at least three to six blessings.
5. Count some more blessings: you'll feel happy and God will feel like you're appreciative.
6. Act like a Christian should. If a Christian shouldn't do it, neither should you. No lying, cheating, gossiping, lusting, or manipulating, and non-holy-word swearing is only allowed in pre-screened company and only for the expression of the strongest feelings.
7. Pray some more. Pray constantly. Don't just think, think in the presence of God. Keep part of your heart always, always worshiping. Monitor this.
   
8. Find the good in everything and remember how lucky you are. If you stub your toe, be thankful you have a toe to stub and a nervous system that can relay sensations to your brain and a brain that can interpret the pain. See? It was a blessing after all.
   

...I just realized I'm perseverating. Sorry. (Yes, I live with that in my head ALL THE TIME.)

Anyway, sometimes it's hard to remember that loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength isn't about doing what I think I should do. It's not about the rules or non-rules or perceived rules or general Christian guidelines. God is not an idea of holiness or righteousness. He's not an ideal. God is the I AM, a Person, a Being. He's relational. And He is a Living Holiness, a Living Righteousness, a Living Ideal, a Living Love.

I may have to fall back on doing things because I should, but those shoulds only exist to catapult me back into loving, Loving, LOVING my Jesus.

I don't want to honor Him because I should this week.

I want to honor Him because HE IS.