Words

Words are amazing. It’s difficult to understand how a combination of a few letters can cause so many different reactions, depending on how they are used. They are a powerful tool that can encourage, comfort, teach, welcome, rebuke, hurt, and even destroy. In the right mouths, words can slice the very soul of a person. Those of you who know me may agree that I do not spread my words liberally, but even in spite of this, I still find it difficult at times to channel my speech in ways that are glorifying to God. How easy it is to let an unkind comment slip off your tongue, almost without realizing it.

Each day, it takes no ear-straining to catch wafts of conversations that are derogatory and ugly towards others, and it is almost like listening to nails screech down a chalk board. Even though I may know talking in this way can be hurtful and is a poor witness, it is far too easy to let my guard down and fall into the habit. From experience, I have realized that negative comments can not only hurt other people, but can also be harmful to yourself. It’s true. For some reason, giving an audible voice to ungodly opinions only makes them grow stronger. This makes it much more difficult to change your thoughts and see things the way you know God wants you to, which in turn strains your relationship with Him, as all sin does. It would be so much better to just speak kindly to begin with.

Give Thanks

Click to see it bigger.

Sleep

(To be read like a poem)

Sleep, sly seducer of the Night, wandering from its natural realm of Moon and Star, sneaking, creeping, scheming in enemy territory. Not fearing his Shining Adversary, he tempts, he taunts, beckoning Day into the respite of Night. Flee, you treacherous Foe! I will not give into bribery. A nap is not sufficient to uproot my loyalties to the present tasks at hand. Spy, you must continue your disguises and your tricks, taunts, temptations somewhere else. Ignoring the irritating thug, I continue my work. Alert, perceptive, and in deep concentration, scarcely am I mindful of the espionage at hand. Eyelids, why are you drooping? Slowly they sag under the weight of my diligence. Helplessly, I allow them to slip shut—another victory for the Night. It wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t resist. But still Guilt persists with tormenting chants: “Traitor, traitor, traitor!” So I am a traitor. Against the cunning deceit of Sleep I am seemingly powerless. I betrayed the Day, the Sun, where my true allegiance was. Now I am a citizen of the Night—dark, dusky, comfortably dull—drowsing deep into the refuges of my conniving victor, Sleep.

A Dear Friend

A couple weeks ago I had to get a new journal because my old one was completely filled up. It is nice. It’s one of those really cool looking journals from Barnes & Noble, with an antique leather look like something I imagine famous authors writing in. Dead authors—like Jane Austen or Charles Dickens or Shakespeare or somebody. But even though it looks old on the outside, on the inside the pages are a new, crisp white. It’s so inviting. Oh the wonders a fresh, blank book and an inky black pen can do for the creative soul!

I don’t remember exactly when I began journaling—probably when I was around fourteen. Never have I written very consistently, and it took all of high school for me to fill even one journal. But despite my sporadic entries, somehow that journal managed to capture not necessarily every event of my life, but my main thoughts and ideas, struggles and growth. When I got the new journal, I thought it would be interesting to read through the old one in its entirety, a task which proved to be simultaneously encouraging and embarrassing. On one hand, some of the things I had written on those pages were incredibly stupid. Really, I have never read dumber ideas. Other times, I was quite shocked by how insightful some of the entries were (especially in comparison to the less-intelligent things I had written…). At any rate, one thing that was definitely nice about reading through it was seeing how much I have grown, spiritually, intellectually, and also as a writer. From the first entry to the last, it’s difficult to believe the author is the same person.

And so, the moral of the story is: you should keep a journal. Even if you only write in it once a month, it’s worthwhile. It is so nice to be able to look back and see everything you have been through, all you have accomplished and overcome, and also the things you still need to improve on. Journaling is an immensely fulfilling habit; it securely holds onto what your memory would otherwise leave in the dust.

If Shoes Could Talk

This is a page of my beat up tennis shoes that I just finished. For some reason I can't get a smaller picture on here and blogger keeps cutting it off, but you can click on the photo to see the whole thing.

Occasionally I try my hand at digital scrapbooking. Compared to regular scrapbooking, which of course requires tons of paper, stickers, ribbons and other little do-dads, it is much less messier because the materials never leave my computer. The only downside is that working with Photoshop can be a bit of a pain. Our family computer is not very big or powerful, and working with all the layers that a scrapbook page requires really bogs it down.

Suggestions/critique/random thoughts are welcome.

Who Could Ask for Anything More?

Gershwin is simply amazing. It never fails, whenever I hear or play anything written by him my heart and mind soar into the sky, exploding in the Milky Way into a thousand specks of firework-like joy. I don't know what it is, but his music instantly puts a person in a good mood. I have lost track of the number of times I have had a terrible day and been on the verge of tears, but had a complete mood turn-around after playing some Gershwin. There's something about it that makes the sky bluer, the sun brighter, the grass greener, the breeze warmer and more pleasant, and the people around you seem friendlier. If his music were easier, I would learn every song he ever wrote in a heartbeat. I find his songs pretty difficult because they're usually very fast with a lot of jumping around, up and down the keyboard. And his hands must have been a lot bigger than mine, because my fingers can never reach all the notes in his chords! His music is a real pain to practice but so rewarding and fun once you can play it. And that is why I am trudging through it now - in a couple months it is going to be so thrilling to play.

And if you're having a not-so-great kind of day and are in need of something to lighten your spirits, here is a pretty awesome arrangement of "I Got Rhythm." It's a bit slow at the beginning, but watch the whole thing, it gets super amazing.

Complacency

In the midst of all these worksheets, essays, reading assignments, I'm afraid I'll get caught up in it all and lose sight of the real goal, the true reason I am here. It was different, sitting at my desk in my room at home, my mother my teacher. Then, learning was the end of every effort, the desire behind every task. It's different, here in college. Learning is still important, still desired and required, but there are more distractions, more details that get in the way. How easy it is to focus on passing the quiz instead of understanding the novel or to be content with a good grade on an essay and not seek knowledge beyond that. It is convenient, very convenient, to do the work, write the essays, pass the tests, fill out the worksheets, read the books, and end it there. There is more available, greater understanding and learning is achievable, but it's not required. If it's not written in the syllabus, why bother? That is the question of the day, but the answer I cannot quite put into words. Something inside of me whispers that going to class and answering the questions is not enough. Asking questions, too, and delving beyond the questions into deep caverns of unknown is just as necessary, just as important. This is my struggle: this fight between being content to fulfill requirements or going beyond that and exploring more, between doing just enough or following that ardent desire to learn really and truly. Focusing, refocusing, and focusing again is what I need to keep from tripping over that endless cycle of homework assignments, losing sight of the reason behind them.