for the love of books

I am one of those who took hold of books at an early age and never let go. I am one who, on rainy days, was found reading with a flashlight under tableclothed kitchen table or makeshift bed-sheet tent. Black words jumping out of white paper illustrated here or there to paint a thousand new words upon the scene...it has always been fascinating. Words so often are inadequate but so relied upon in this world where bare emotions are too exquisite to be allowed flight. And so we unnaturally fumble around like light blinded fools looking for just the right words to express our true unrefined innards. With those words a story is told and a book is born. A book-a glorious thought-inducing collection of words that ripens with time as it becomes age-perfumed and curled-paged. What’s this about “electronic books?” “Electronic imposter” is more like it. Real books have covers, and weight, and pages that can be hand written in or accidentally spilled on; they can sing as the pages are flipped through, and the very best gain an alluring aroma of greatness as they mature with age. It’s late and I’m tired and I’m not sure this will make sense to anyone else, but I can’t sleep so I thought I’d write instead...

midnight

Remember all those years they told us we could do anything as long as we believed and tried our hardest? Remember the day you found out it was a lie? I was much younger, then, and already covered with the dust of travel, unconsciously resolving to be as “wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” The serpent learned nothing comes easy and hard work earns but a dime; an uncorked heart gets poured down the drain; speaking is hushed and dreaming aloud will be silenced. The dove learned to love, accepting its coupling with pain. Still I will dance circles alone in my room these nostalgic nights, when all I can do is wait for the beautifully despondent song of the train delivered by the midnight breeze.

a time for mourning

I despise sitting here helpless as one of my old homes is devastated by earthquakes and tsunamis. Here the slight warmth of early spring and sunny blue skies decorate the day, a thousand worlds away from ripped concrete highways and crumbling walls that now adorn my last home, Mito Japan. Why must I feel something near guilt as people say "I'm so glad you're here and not there"? I want to be there right now, very much so, but even if I was there, what could I do? I will do all I can do, here, now; I will share in the mourning, and I will pray. And I ask you to pray too if you will, particularly for all my babies (my students; I had 700+).

Giddy

I feel compelled to throw on a flouncy skirt and dance around my apartment with the music turned up, for I have just discovered Owl City is starting off his world tour in Nashville this summer! I still have no job and no money and thus no way (yet) to actually get to the concert, but the fact that the possibility exists makes me feel like a kid on Christmas eve. I'll be 26 years old by summer, but the child in me will never die.

Blue

My newest adventure is completely within myself. I’m confronted with a new set of problems. Not that any of these problems are new, mind you, but they have never grouped themselves together in quite this fashion before. And with them all coming together to form a great big unhappy family in my brain, I’m left feeling a bit depressed. Very blue. Colors are trying to change; grays a bit grayer, shadows a bit darker. Out of the shadows come whispers of insecurities, of inadequacies, comparisons, confusion. I feel caught up in it, trapped and alone, like a “poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.” Broken, but never put together in the first place.

No matter the storm there are rays of hope, something or another to remind one of the reality of this great life.

Yesterday’s rays came from an Owl City song; The Technicolor Phase, which (to me anyway) is about the fact that God created everything, including the colors that are everywhere, and that no matter where you go He will be with you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_b7mT8ihGfQ

This morning the reminder came through Deuteronomy, chapters 4 and 8: “Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live” (Deut. 4:8a); and the beginning of chapter 8, particularly this verse: “Know then in your heart that as a man disciplines his son, so the Lord your God disciplines you”(Deut. 8:5; but read the first 4 verses with it). I suppose I’m a lot like the Israelites; quick to forget unless reminded to remember.

One day it’ll all make sense.

Notes

I just want to post some notes I jotted down from last week's sermon because it was a really good lesson. I find that if I write things down, I have a harder time forgetting. So for the sake of remembering, and just incase you'll get something out if it too, here are some notes.

-There is no wound that God can't heal

-This year's theme: "Learning to Trust God"

-4 myths about trusting God:

1) If you can't see God working, you better make your own plan.

2) God helps those who help themselves.

3) Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.

4) If you want something done right, do it yourself.

-->These are myths because God is worthy of our trust

-God is worthy of our trust because:

>He understands us

>He loves us

>He always has our best interest in mind

>He will heal us

-2 Chron. 20:5-12

1) Remember God's Power (v. 5-7)

-dwell on His faithfulness and power

-recall His work in our lives

-what has He done for us? (write down everything God has done for you in your life)

2) Remember God's Promises

-trust in His compassion

-find peace in His word

-what does God promise us? (write down all God's promises you can find in the Bible)

-Questions to reflect on:

1. What areas of my life need healing today?

2. Am I allowing God in, or keeping Him at arm's length?

3. What keeps me from trusting God?

---Satan loves to make us focus on our hurts to keep us from trusting God.

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Too often as of late I find myself listening to lies-knowing they are lies-and wanting to believe them over the truth. When I hear whispers of "you don't matter, what you do doesn't matter, you are worthless, everything would be better off if you'd find yourself a cave in the middle of nowhere and never leave it," I want to believeit; oh I want to believe it. I want to believe it because I don't feel good, and I haven't in a while. I want to believe it because it's easy-being nothing, doing nothing, melting into the decay of the world...easy. Much easier to do, and to believe. But because of Love, while I am nothing, I am at the same time-and more-priceless. Because of Love I have been taken from rags to riches, a beggar made a spotless bride of Christ. So it doesn't matter that I feel worthless; the reality is Love.

More stuff

Just a few more things I’m selling on ebay as seller kuri-kuri21:

1. Red jacket; 3 button front, shiny

2. Orange sweater; warm, 2 side pockets, double zip

3. Dark jean jacket; fitted, lightly distressed and faded style

4. Snap front shirt; lightweight, shiny

5. Dark green bathrobe; long, hooded, zipper, two pockets with two dogs, one says good morning and the other says good night

Everything is in really good condition, and all bidding starts at USD 0.99.

I'm not turning this into some sort of advertising blog, just so you know. I just have no money at all and I'm trying to make some...until then, I don't have time to write a good post.