an unusual publishing deal

As a child in church, I often absorbed and toyed with bible-referencing watchwords many Christians make use of (only now do I recognize their value in helping us galvanize a common understanding of our shared faith).... Inevitably, as most children do, I heard or imagined many things differently than they were meant to be communicated (ex: one of our ladies who enjoyed bringing special music to the congregation often sang "People Need the Lord", the title line of which I innocently misinterpreted to be, "people need amor" -- and I thought she meant Amor brand tinned cat chow! To this day, you can occasionally catch me crooning "peeeeople neeeed cat foooood" around the house when I'm feeling frisky.)

In my innocent mind, the idea of what our pastor called "the Lamb's Book of Life" (ex: the ledger where your name is recorded in heaven when you are saved) played huge havoc in my mind for some reason.... What if the writer misspells my name? I thought. Or worse, what if he smudges or erases it?!

Being my proactive little self, I decided to write my own book in my head (which, for some psycho reason, I believed God would be able to open like a ripe melon and look inside where I myself had recorded my first profession of faith in Christ), which I envisioned as a leather-bound, handstitched tome containing each important memory of my life I would want to share with him, starting at the moment I was saved when I was six.

I know that some people would point to this instance as proof that a child of so few years is capable of comprehending the essence of faith -- believing blindly in the unseen. I hold a different, perhaps more optimistic view: God invites us to try Him, to let Him prove to us that He loves us beyond all comprehension and that we can trust Him in ALL things.

Veni, Veni, Emmanuel!

"O Come, O Come, Emmanuel", a 12th century hymn claiming the promises of the old testament prophecies concerning the birth of the savior, has captivated me for the longest time.... its solemn, simple medieval melody thrills me with its borderline-ominous tone. The impassioned lyric, though, calls out to me for a more explosive, joyous treatment than its traditional setting provides....

...I wonder how a Baptist congregation would react to singing in a smidgen of Latin. *mischievious grin* not that i would dare to limit the pre-conceived arrangement to any particular denomination...

Looking out my teller window at work today, I remember jobs I've had where I would've devoured glass-locked light like it was a Godiva milkshake. Funny how the lack of things commonly taken for granted -- light and fresh air -- can make all the difference in the world to someone previously deprived...and by choices of her own!



Even though I was initially enthralled to have gained the two jobs I had prior to my current employment, their corporate environments soon ran ALL over me, pulverizing my lust for life until my heart felt like a cup of tepid water with a couple dozen half-dead sea monkeys weakly struggling to swim around inside (sorry... that was the only way I could envision it for some reason).



But OH! -- from the place I'm at now, I not only get a little UV exposure to feed my freckles on, I also get to watch the leaves pass through their final dazzling cycles and drift across the gravel lot of the garage next door. I'm aware of how silly it likely sounds to count such mundane sights as pleasures, but those who have worked under the scrutiny of cool blue cosmetic lighting and the scrutiny of socially carniverous women know what I mean....

These Are a Few of My Favorite Thiiiiings (Fall Edition)

v- neck sweaters (par!)
Sting's Mercury Falling album
Countryside Magazine
broiled parsnips
When Harry Met Sally
Cinnamon-y candles
burberry men's fragrance
blackeyed susans & ferns
biscuits & coffee
6 am bible study
overalls
Twin Peaks (mostly season one)

My Heroes Aren't Cowboys Anymore

This post begins like so many good stories....

Can I tell you a secret?

My heroes are fallen. My friends are those I've failed before to recognize, and their numbers are precious fewer than previously calculated.

This is all unexpectedly comforting -- because now I know where I stand. And I've got choices to make. Do I allow power and ambition and gossip and vanity cloud God's vision for who I should become, or do I choose to align myself with those (be they few) who constantly strive to match stride with our Master?

Commencement

Here I am again, in my favored state -- creative and anonymous.