I told you it was false

Classes were canceled for the first time in my 2 1/2 years at college, and I spent the morning (after taking these pictures) drinking Chai tea and reading Ulysses S. Grant's memoirs. It really was as romantic as it sounds.

I would like to see truthful history written. Such history will do full credit to the courage, endurance and soldierly ability of the American citizen, no matter what section of the country he hailed from, or in what ranks he fought. ~ U. S. Grant

false spring

Everyone is skipping today, it seems. It's 60 degrees outside and my window's open. I just wrote a poem about the snowflakes falling not two days ago, and now the sun is shining and the mud is thawing and people are skipping. They're not thinking about the fact that tomorrow it's supposed to be 34 degrees or that it's only January 23rd and we have many more months of winter to go through. But it's okay. Because right now it's spring. I wonder if all of a sudden a bunch of random people will decide to start dating, and then tomorrow they'll break up because the wintry clouds of dissension will rip apart their love affair. Dun, dun, dun!

Why do people have to be mean? Why do they have to say mean things? Here's my challenge for you (and me) this day: Consider other peoples' hearts before you speak. What might not hurt you might hurt them. Even something so little and flippant can be taken to heart if the heart is sensitive. Not everybody needs to hear what you think. Sometimes "being kind" is not saying anything at all. And rewinding your video tapes before returning them to your local library or video store.

I wish I had more time and the means to bake new recipes and knit new patterns and read new (to me) novels. Contrary to popular belief, The Habsburg Monarchy is not interesting. At all. I look forward to the day when I marry someone rich and he faithfully supports me while I cook him meals and knit him socks and dedicate my books to him. Unless he is poor, in which case I will most likely be working in a laundry room for the rest of my life because I already know how to fold fitted sheets. Really well.

Somehow this weather is making me very pessimistic. Maybe 'cause I know it's just kidding. And I don't like to be kidded. (If I had a scowl and a gun I would pull them out right now and look intimidating. Instead all I have is some pink yarn and a class at 3...so I should probably go.)

be it ever so humble

There are some things that the absence of is needed in order to make you realize how much you loved it. My cold feet at night remind me of how warm my heated mattress pad made my flannel sheets. The orange-ish red concoction on the main line makes me realize how delicious Dad's turkey soup was. Waking up to the dark and a piercing alarm reminds me of the slow, sleepy awakenings to dishes clanging in the kitchen and light peeking through the slats in my blinds. Icy pellets from the sky onto sloppy muddy earth only slightly resemble the large flakes landing softly on an already existing blanket of whiteness.

Highlights of Christmas break '08:
+ Hiking through 2 feet of snow, burrowing under fallen logs, getting pushed in the snow by Dad who thought it'd be funny to spear me with his walking pole like Moby Dick.
+ the Christmas Eve service...twice.
+ Watching Band of Brothers in my bed.
+ Shoveling snow the first five times...after that it got tiring.
+ The first 300 pages of Anna Karenina...after that it got tiring.
+ Playing the Andy of Mayberry trivia game and speed scrabble with the fam. (Dad: "Do you spell 'slut' with one 't' or two?")
+ Watching Clint Eastwood movies, war documentaries, and Valkyrie with Dad.
+ Staying in my pajamas all day.
+ Baking peanut butter cookies every time the supply ran out.
+ Venturing by foot into unknown, snowy lands in search of the post office and stumbling into it like a dazed elf sutmbling into a ginger bread house on his way to the North Pole.

I miss Bing Crosby. And this:

Glory to God in the highest!

Sing sweet and low your lullaby
till angels sing, "Amen."
A mother tonight is rocking
A cradle in Bethlehem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And I celebrate the day
that You were born to die
so I might one day pray for You to save my life.

the eve of our Saviour's birth

I'm sitting in the kitchen surrounded by sugar cookies and gingerbread boys dotted with little red candies. I sit here because through the glass doors in the kitchen I can see the snow falling. I love the snow. What is it about snow that makes me feel such a quiet gladness? What is it about walking through the snow, watching the snow, lying in the snow, that makes me feel such a still happiness? The war movie-watcher in me remembers scenes of battles in the snow, frost bite and gunfire and exploding shells breaking the silence and peace of the snow. The numbness in my fingers and toes while shoveling the driveway gives me just a taste of what those men must have felt, and forces me to respect and admiration and gratefulness. The writer in me tries to document and analyze the feeling I have at the sight of snow. It's always a futile attempt.

Still, still, still one can hear the falling snow. For all is hushed, the world is sleeping; Holy Star is vigil keeping. Still, still, still, one can hear the falling snow.

This year Christmas has been more about Jesus than is has all the years before. The focus hasn't been so much on presents and traditions, since parts of my family are absent and the traditions have sort of shattered and been swept under the rug. So Christmas morning won't be spent waiting at the top of the stairs for Dad to get his camera ready, like the previous 21 years of Christmases. Instead of the bustle of wrapping paper flying and telling Kitty to stop eating the ribbons, I can spend more time thinking about why Christmas even exists. "'The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel'—which means, 'God with us.'"

My anticipatory prayer on the eve of our Savior's birth: O come, o come Immanuel!

"thanks" doesn't even come close

Tonight I sat in the Methodist church downtown Wilmore as a brass band played Christmas carols and ribboned wreaths hung on the walls. I thought of the fact that this was my third year sitting in this church, letting my hands and feet warm after long walks up and down the street, ducking in and out of shops to eat cookies and drink hot chocolate. The last line of Bing Crosby singing "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" came to my mind, and I agreed: Sure, it's Christmas once more.

Afterward, I turned on the Christmas lights in my room and curled up on my couch, listening to my "Solemn Christmas Music" playlist. Mannheim Steamroller's "Still, Still, Still" came on, and I was reminded of what Christmas really is. Buttons and signs in peoples' yards declare "Jesus is the reason for the season!" but how often I forget the solemnity of Christmas.

Still, still, still
tis the eve of our Savior's birth

It reminds me of Psalm 46:10, "Be still, and know that I am God." Still. Jesus commanded the wind and the waves to Quiet! be still, but I think He also commands us to be still. Just be still. Amidst the Christmas carols and traditions and foods and shopping and movies....be still, and know who Jesus is. "'The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel'—which means, 'God with us'" (Matthew 1:23).

I love when the angel appears to the shepherds in Luke 2, and in verses 13-14 it says, "Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.'" I can't imagine being those shepherds when that heavenly host appeared praising God. It reminds me of the heavenly host in Revelation 5:11-12, "Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousands times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they sang, 'Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!'"

I just love that we join in with that. The shepherds joined in with that then, we join in with that now, and when we get to heaven, we will join in with that!

Ding dong merrily on high, in the heaven the bells are ringing
Ding dong merrily the sky is riven with angels singing
Gloria, hosanna in excelsis!
Even so, here below, below, let steeple bell be swungen,
and i-o, i-o, i-o by priest and people sungen!
Gloria, hosanna in excelsis!

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6).

an allegory

Once upon a time there lived a young, naive girl who was leaving her family on a long, dangerous adventure. She packed her bags, and as she stepped foot out of her door and into the world, her mother gave her a precious gift. "Use this," she said, "when you most need it." The young girl saw what it was. It had been in the family for many, many years, and by taking it with her, she felt as if a part of her home was with her as she set out on her journey. When she needed it most, it was there to be used, and she felt the warmth of her home with every use.

A few weeks later someone stole it. Moral of the story: I want my iron back. Whoever has it, I will find you, and if it turns out you have my watch, my book light, and my Macy's gloves, I will shoot you in the knees, Die Hard style.

Do you think it's just coincidence that Bruce Willis and Bruce Wayne have such similar names?