Spring

When you have been made to suffer being apart from something that you love for a long period of time, do you feel a sudden great joy when that thing is given back to you? That is how I feel after the long dreary winter has passed. Everything, during this time, is bleak, cold, and austere. Sometimes a thick blanket of snow will attempt to cover the barrenness of the landscape, and yet, more often than not we look out on a gray, cheerless world. Come March and April, however, there is a change in the air. We do not merely see naked branches, but little tiny buds all over the place, giving a reddish tint to the trees. Snowdrops appear, and are succeeded by the crocus. Then the hyacinth, daffodils, and tulips; or at least, that is how it goes in our gardens. Suddenly the earth is renewed. It is cleansed by Spring rains. The bleak atmosphere is washed away and replaced by warmth and cheer. Birds' songs echo through the trees, and they sing so sweetly, and so cheerfully, that it cannot help but banish melancholy and gloomy thoughts from the mind.

"There are some secret moving Springs in the Affections, which when they are set a going by some Object in view, or be it some Object, though not in view, yet rendered present to the Mind by the Power of Imagination, that Motion carries out the Soul by its Impetuosity to such violent eager embracings of the Object, that the Absence of it is insupportable." (Robinson Crusoe)

During this time of year I am apt to get intoxicated by the beauty of God's creation. I am not apt to worship the creation - nay, rather, it makes me bow in wonder of the God who made it! For if nature really is this beautiful - this sublime, then how much more powerful is the Hand that made it all, and how much more beautiful the Person who thought to make it.

These days make me burst with joy... after everything being dead for so long, it is finally become alive. I have drawn a line between Spring, and new birth in Christ. ..."And we were dead in the trespasses of our sins..." that is like winter. But when we are saved, and when we know Christ, everything blooms, and becomes alive.

This season should fill every mind with beautiful thoughts. How is it that buds on a tree can unfurl the splendor of a million leaves? Truly, this thought alone is amazing. Much less how a flower, so delicate, can push its way up through the soil, and nurtured by the sun, bloom and add so much color and loveliness to the world.

Let us not forget our blessings, and let us not forget to be grateful to Him who makes winter end, and gives us this gift of Spring.

(By the way, I've purposely abstained from using too much - or even not at all- words such as sublime, ecstasy, glorious etc, so as not to overwhelm my readers by my enthusiasm on this subject. :P)

Little Boys And Warriors For Christ

Luther, on his sixth birthday, was sitting in the car with his mother and suddenly started rambling on about what he's going to do when he's a Daddy....

"I' gonna teach my children to be sober minded and chew with their mouths closed, and to love the bible. I'm gonna read the bible to my kids every night and every day and tell them to bring their bibles to church and take them upstairs. I'm gonna teach my children never to turn their backs on Daddy and God."

Mother: "What do you mean by turning their backs on God and Daddy, Luther?"

Luther: "When daddy tells us something to do, and we don't do it... we just turn around and walk away. That's wrong. I'm going to teach them not to do that to Daddy or God."

O! This little warrior for Christ! He's already fighting his Lord's battles.

Running....

So... Today Chloe and I took the kids down to the park. While they played on the swings and went down the slides all different sorts of ways, we went running... probably about a mile.  But anyways, Chloe posted pictures of her running... So I thought I'd get even. :P

I'm Not Going To Even Attempt To THINK Of A Title

HI EVERYBODY!!!!

So, I thought that maybe I could bore you all by something that is... well, boring. You see, I have a dead imagination these days (being away from my manuscripts and all that *draws tear*) so I can't even THINK of anything to post about. My last writing was so very serious - desperate, very true, and passionate.... er, passionately true... Written because of the passion I have that passionately expresses the first passion listed, BECAUSE I am passionate about truth. Uh, nevermind. So, I thought that I might write something a little... Well... a little... *fades off* Nevermind.

Today, I finally got determined to look at my mathbook again, and figure some problems out so that someday I might be able to graduate and then if I graduate, it means that I'm done with school (not with learning, but with formal education) which means that after that, I can get married, and have a darling little family of my own! Wait... Where was I going with this?? Oh yeah... that.

So, I decided to find a nice, quiet, romantic, secluded place to do my math. And then I had the perfect place!! You see, behind my sisters closet there is a little tiny room. I thought it would be nice and cosy to study in there, and the cat was in there too, so that added and extra something to the idea. I caught up my journal in case some very interesting and perhaps romantic thoughts crossed my mind that MUST be written down. You know, those kind of entries that have the words, perfect, glorious, splendid, sublime, solace... etc.. So, I go back there, and there are two boxes stacked upon each other that needed to be removed in order to accomodate myself comfortably. I removed the one box, and to my horror, beheld a red pool of liquid on the top of the bottom box.

The very first thing that flashed through my crazy brain was, "Mazzolato!" And the horrific remembrance of that execution in the Count Of Monte Cristo. However, I was very relieved to find that (and all this happened in a split second) there was a bottle beside the pool, and I uttered a sigh to discover that after all, something which so much resembled blood, was in fact, nail polish.

But the smile that began to play on my face soon disappeared when I realized that all messes, no matter how terrible and sticky they seem, MUST be cleaned up, and I must do it. I therefore ran downstairs as fast as my unwilling legs would carry me, ranting in my mind (yet wearing a sweet smile on my face - no idea why) that JUST when I got determined to get to my math, SOMETHING had to happen to get in my way. I rushed all the way to the basement, and sternly looked my little 4 year old sister in the face, and she looked back with those droopy eyes that looked so shamefully guilty. I was forced to be lenient.

"Honey, you don't normally take nail-polish into the back of Chloe's closet... and normally, you don't spill it either. Ok?? Please try not to do it again." That's all I said. Then I rushed upstairs with a little spatula from the kitchen, to try to save some of the precious red nail-polish.

So I'm cleaning it up, remarking on the very great misfortune that befell me this afternoon, and how my motivation for my math had fled before the thought of the mess in front of me. I cleaned it up, as best I could, then glanced at the drying red stuff all over my hands. I then realized the stupid thing I had just done. I cleaned up nail polish with a cooking spatula! Well, everybody has dumb moments, and this was one of mine. :) I thought of getting the nail-polish off the spatula with nail-polish remover, but then realized the spatula would have soaked in the toxins that are in the nail-polish and the remover... (I don't even know if that's a correct statement... if someone would like to correct me on that - *bows* - please do.) So that was a dumb idea too. Threw the spatula away, and resolved that if mother noticed its disappearance I would buy her a new one. Ya know what? I'll buy her a new one anyways.

I got the nail polish off my hands, and then I went back upstairs. Even as I write, there is a big red blotch on the box in the cubby hole... that will not come off until we get around to getting off... Perhaps with paint thinner.

So that is the interesting event of the day, and if you didn't enjoy it... well, I am so desperately sorry.

Please note that I am sure there are plenty of spelling and grammatical errors in this post, so y'all will have to excuse me.

Absolutely No Point.

Luther, as a child, watching the Three Stooges. Wondering WHY I'm posting this picture? I don't really know. I'm in a random, tired mood... and I couldn't find the picture I WANTED to post about. Oh well.

Where Lies The Difference? Is There One?

What is one of the ancient practices of the world that makes us cringe and fall back in horror? Child-sacrifice: that ancient tradition that many countries in B.C. as well as A.D. practiced. Why is it so horrific? Perhaps it’s the idea of an innocent child, who has no say in whether he/she can live or die, who cannot even fight for his/her life. They are cruelly killed – sacrificed to heathen gods; they go through innumerable pains and sufferings – things that we cannot even imagine. These children, ranging from the ages of new-born to – well, even to adult age were sacrificed to “please the gods.” The horrific ways in which these new-born children were killed is too gruesome for me to describe, but it was bloody and morbid. I cannot even imagine how they went through it. But this is my point:

Many sacrificed infants and babies to the gods…. We think that is horrific. Really, who would want to kill a baby? But it is happening everywhere all the time – all the time! This dreadful thing is, yes, abortion. Many babies are aborted because the mothers “do not want them” or because they “can’t afford them” or because it is a humiliation – a result of a circumstance they shouldn’t have gotten into anyways. But what is the ultimate point of why babies are aborted? To satisfy and please the agenda of the mother. This is no different, if you really think about it, than those people way back then sacrificing babies to please the gods. In a way, the mother is pleasing a god – Self. Martin Luther once said, “I have a great pope within me: Self.” When we do things to please ourselves, even when it is wrong, we are satisfying and pleasing our own selfish desires. This is wrong – really, truly wrong.

Abortion is no different than child-sacrifice. Why would it be? Because life does not begin until the baby leaves the womb? What grows that is not alive? How can a baby grow for nine months and not be alive? A brick, which is not alive, does not grow, but if you leave out in the wind and rain, it will become beaten down – this is a result of the weather – the brick itself does not grow or shrink by itself. If life begins at conception, then abortion is murder. If abortion is murder, then why does our country allow it to go on? Why does not the government do something to stop this wicked crime? These little infants, just like the ones sacrificed, do not have the strength, or even the sense to fight for their life. They have no say in the matter. The matter of life or death is decided for them by other human beings. This is injustice, this is cruelty and murder! If life does not begin at conception, then what about those little ones who sometimes survive abortion, and are left to die on the hospital floor? When the baby screams and cries, kicks its legs and arms, then they ought to know that it is alive. They cannot kill it – they have no right. But since we do know that life begins at conception, then they have absolutely no right to interfere with that baby’s life – unless it is to save it. (Note: I am not saying that all babies that survive abortion are left to die, but I am referring to the ones that do.)

I wonder, what are the doctors consciences like? Do they even have one? Does the sound of little children’s feet haunt them – and the mother alike? Whenever they hear a baby’s cry, are they filled with regret, with remorse? Or not? Do they just go on as if nothing happened? I wonder…

How wrong, how utterly wrong it all is! Is there a worse evil than this? O! the cries of the innocent must ring and shake the earth! What a sordid, filthy, and twisted culture we have! How can we mend this great evil? Or have we gone so far that it cannot be mended?

Who will speak up for the little ones?
Helpless and half-abandoned.
They've got the right to choose life
They don't want to lose,
I've got to speak up, won't you?

Equal rights, equal time, for the unborn children.
Their precious lives are on the line,
How can we be rid of them?
Passing laws, passing out
Bills and new amendments.
Pay the cost and turn about,
And face the young defendants.

Many come and many go,
Conceived but not delivered.
The toll is astronomical,
How can we be indifferent.

Little hands, little feet,
Tears for Him who made you.
Should all on earth forsake you now,
But He'll never forsake you.

Forming hearts, forming minds,
Quenched before awakened,
For so many deliberate crimes
The earth will soon be shaken.

[Lyrics to a song, “Little Ones By Phil Keaggy.] I’ve never heard this song, but the lyrics are wonderful.

O, please pray!

YAY!

I'm excited because I've reached my 100th blog post!!! Yay!!!! Just thought y'all might like to know....