wish...

A wish to go paper boat racing.


Prints of words they were, telling the world
Down the stream they float,
now boats on the icy water
Among the stillness we watched,
our breath white in the Autumn air.
To float them again...

tonight

Tonight we are going to watch "the Bourne Ultimatum" it should be exciting, I've already seen it, but tonight my mom will see it.

Warm in my nunnery...

It is raining fantasist rain out there.
I learned another verse to a song; I have the happy hope that heckles heathens down in the depths of my heart. (heckles? There must be a better word)
Learned how to turn my pocket handkerchief into a mouse.
Burnt my chess and ham sandwich (somethings never really change), drank sparkly cider out of "Tom and Jerry" glass.
Rearranged the mess of my room.
Thought about hope and endurance.
Read the first chapter of "Mere Christianity"

"Her Letter" by Bret Har

After much searching at last I found a long lost friend. Someday if you want me to I'll tell you why I like this poem, for now just enjoy.

I’M sitting alone by the fire,
Dressed just as I came from the dance,
In a robe even you would admire,—
It cost a cool thousand in France;
I’m be-diamonded out of all reason,
My hair is done up in a cue:
In short, sir, “the belle of the season”
Is wasting an hour upon you.

A dozen engagements I’ve broken;
I left in the midst of a set;
Likewise a proposal, half spoken,
That waits—on the stairs—for me yet.
They say he’ll be rich,—when he grows up,—
And then he adores me indeed;
And you, sir, are turning your nose up,
Three thousand miles off as you read.

“And how do I like my position?”
“And what do I think of New York?”
“And now, in my higher ambition,
With whom do I waltz, flirt, or talk?”
“And isn’t it nice to have riches,
And diamonds and silks, and all that?”
“And aren’t they a change to the ditches
And tunnels of Poverty Flat?”

Well, yes,—if you saw us out driving
Each day in the Park, four-in-hand,
If you saw poor dear mamma contriving
To look supernaturally grand,—
If you saw papa’s picture, as taken
By Brady, and tinted at that,
You’d never suspect he sold bacon
And flour at Poverty Flat.

And yet, just this moment, when sitting
In the glare of the grand chandelier,—
In the bustle and glitter befitting
The “finest soiree of the year,”—
In the mists of a gaze de Chambery,
And the hum of the smallest of talk,—
Somehow, Joe, I thought of the “Ferry,”
And the dance that we had on “The Fork;”

Of Harrison’s barn, with its muster
Of flags festooned over the wall;
Of the candles that shed their soft lustre
And tallow on head-dress and shawl;
Of the steps that we took to one fiddle,
Of the dress of my queer vis-a-vis;
And how I once went down the middle
With the man that shot Sandy McGee;

Of the moon that was quietly sleeping
On the hill, when the time came to go;
Of the few baby peaks that were peeping
From under their bedclothes of snow;
Of that ride—that to me was the rarest;
Of—the something you said at the gate.
Ah! Joe, then I wasn’t an heiress
To “the best-paying lead in the State.”

Well, well, it’s all past; yet it’s funny
To think, as I stood in the glare
Of fashion and beauty and money,
That I should be thinking, right there,
Of some one who breasted high water,
And swam the North Fork, and all that,
Just to dance with old Folinsbee’s daughter,
The Lily of Poverty Flat.

But goodness! what nonsense I’m writing!
(Mamma says my taste still is low),
Instead of my triumphs reciting,
I’m spooning on Joseph,—heigh-ho!
And I’m to be “finished” by travel,—
Whatever’s the meaning of that.
Oh, why did papa strike pay gravel
In drifting on Poverty Flat?

Good-night!—here’s the end of my paper;
Good-night!—if the longitude please,—
For maybe, while wasting my taper,
Your sun’s climbing over the trees.
But know, if you haven’t got riches,
And are poor, dearest Joe, and all that,
That my heart’s somewhere there in the ditches,
And you’ve struck it,—on Poverty Flat.

Library of Congress

Thanks to my other brother, I was able to find out the following, this was taken straight from their web sight

1. What is the Library of Congress?

The Library serves as the research arm of Congress and is recognized as the national library of the United States. Its collections comprise the world's most comprehensive record of human creativity and knowledge. Open to those above high school age without charge or special permission, it is the world's largest library and a great resource to scholars and researchers.

Does the Library have a copy of every book published in the United States?

No, but it does have more than 17 million books, as well as nearly 95 million maps, manuscripts, photographs, films, audio and video recordings, prints and drawings, and other special collections.

"It is wise to learn; it is God like to create." -John Saxe

WARNING: the following is merely me processing thoughts that have been building up during the last year or so, no conclusion will be reached.

My dear friend Sarah wrote the quote by John Saxe in a letter she sent me the other day, I've been thinking about it, a lot.

The other day my brother was telling me a story about one day when he was a child he was telling an adult about something he had recently learned, the adult told my brother he was one step closer to being like God (because God is all knowing), my brother said what was said had always bothered him.

Today I was reading one of Emerson's essays, it was about beauty (sadly I had to leave before finishing it, but I fully intend to finish it on Wednesday) He talked of how science had killed beauty, how if you showed him a bird to him and took it apart to show him its structure all he would see is a dead bird. He said not until you could tell him what the birds were saying would he believe you were an expert on birds. Then he went on to talk of beauty, he did not attempt to define beauty, but to show beauty by talking of what all see as beautiful.

Today in class we talked about rules of art, and how first you have to prove you can follow the rules before you are allowed to break them.

On the bus ride home I told my professor of me disgust for flannel-graphs, the feeling was mutual.

On the walk home I thought of children's love, delight for life, and when does that delight die?

I thought of how what God made is perfect (far superior to flannel-graphs) couldn't we use to world to show God.

I thought about how I shouldn't use say 'teach God' but rather 'show God'. God teaches you things, but you must know him to learn.

George MacDonald -love-

Last night I finshed the book Phantastes below is from the last few pages.

"I knew now,that it is by loving, and not being loved, that one can come nearest the soul of another, yea, that,where two love, it is in the loving of each other, and not the being the beloved by each other, that originates and perfects and assures their blessedness. I knew that love gives to him that loveth, power over any soul beloved, even if that soul knows him not, bringing him inwardly close to that spirit; a power that can not be but for good; for in proportion as selfishness intrudes, the loves ceases, and the power that springs therefrom dies. Yet all love will, one day, behold its own image in the eyes of the beloved, and be humbly glad."

George MacDonald -Phantastes-

Support Raising...

A word of explanation, my mom and dad are currently raising support for their ministry. This morning Dad was reading a book about how to write an effective support letter, some of the rules were; be familiar, be to the point, use small words. So we put our heads together and came up with the following:

Dear Homey G’s,

Me and my peeps have an awesome gig at a new crib. We don’t want to keep this on the dl, the deal is we are low on dough.

So, if you can send some cool cash our way to keep us from under the bridge.

Awesome.

Peace out brothers,

Your homeys from the WV

p.s. btw ur gr8

Lord Ullin's Daughter

Lord Ullin's DaughterA Chieftain to the Highlands bound, Cries, 'Boatman, do not tarry; And I'll give thee a silver pound To row us o'er the ferry.'
'Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?' 'Oh! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
'And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather.
'His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?'
Outspoke the hardy Highland wight: 'I'll go, my chief - I'm ready: It is not for your silver bright, But for your winsome lady.
'And by my word, the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry: So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry.'
By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still, as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men- Their trampling sounded nearer.
'Oh! Haste thee, haste!' the lady cries, 'Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.'
The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her- When oh! Too strong for human hand, The tempest gathered o'er her.
And still they rowed amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing; Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore- His wrath was chang'd to wailing.
For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade, His child he did discover; One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid, And one was round her lover.
'Come back! Come back!' he cried in grief, 'Across this stormy water; And I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter!- oh, my daughter!'
'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing; The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting.

Shattered

My brother has taken one of my dreams and trampled upon it. He just told me that the Library of Congress has a record of all the books published in the U.S. I thought it housed every book published. All these years I have been picturing a very tall, grand, old building full from floor to ceiling of books, like the library in Beauty and the Best. What is left to dream about? Where now will my thoughts drift off to?

Today Was An Exciting Day

Someone opened the door for me on my way into the library

I saw on old book, inside there was a poem about a highland lord and his bride it was sad but.... (man, I wanted to say beautiful then I started thinking about what does the word beautiful mean, now I don't know what adjective to use!)

In class we treated our own roll of film, my hands still feel and smell like fixer and my head still aches but it was really exciting,

While in the pitch black we talked about Wait Until Dark and Charades,

Aimee called, just to talk.

It rained sunshine today

At dinner I got use chopsticks

Daniell mad egg rolls

I danced with Tim on the sidewalk in the rain, he did the box step.

I got my homework done for the day

Next I am going to read some P&P

Katie is coming over tonight, we are going to watch a movie.

sigh~ the sunset was gorgeous

Unreal

The other day the sky laid close to the earth in a gray sheet. I was on my way to school when I saw something that made me wonder; A middle age, respectable looking women was sitting at a bus stop, she had her bag sitting next to her with what seemed to be a pile of rages on top. (part of this that made it so unreal feeling was I was inside a bus across the street, so I couldn't here her) She was very agitated about something, she was talking and crying (the way people sometimes do when they are sad but also mad so they let you know why they are upset), also she was smoking a lot. I was trying to figure out who she was talking to because there was nobody beside her, she kept touching the rages, she picked them up and held them to her chest, kissed them, set them back down. About this time she picked them up again and I realized part of the mystery: The rags were in fact a rag doll, like ones that I have, and it was the doll she was talking too. The answers to those questions presents a bigger question: Why would a grown respectable women be pouring her heart out to a rag doll while she is smoking waiting for a bus? Was the doll hers from childhood? Is the women crazy? Did it belong to someone that she loved who is now dead? Has she always ridden the bus or did that start lately, same with the cigarettes did she just start, is she smoking more now? Why is it she only has the doll to talk to? Oh yeah remember this is just a glimpse of someones real life tonight she is somewhere out there in this big dark world.

Psalms 77

This last summer God was teaching me some things. One of them being; rejoicing in him purely because he is God, not because of the peace he can give me, or joy, or any other reason except that he is God. A few days ago while I was reading I came across this passage this writer had reached all the way to the depths of despair (far further then my discouragement) when he resolves to remember God and praise him because of who he is, it struck a familiar cord.


I cried out to God for help;
I cried out to God to hear me.
When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
at night I stretched out untiring hands
and my soul refused to be comforted

I remembered you, O my God, and I groaned;
I mused, and my spirit came faint. Selah
You kept my eyes from closing;
I was to troubled to speak.
I thought about the former days,
the years of long ago;
I remembered my songs in the night.
My heart mused and my spirit inquired:

Will the Lord reject forever?
Will he never show his favor again?
Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
Has his promise failed for all time?
Has God forgotten to be merciful?
Has his anger withheld his compassion?

Selah

Then I thought; "To this I will appeal:
the years of the right hand of the Most High"
I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
I will meditate on all your works
and consider all your mighty deeds.

Your ways, O God, are holy.
What God is so great as are God?
You are the God who performs miracles;
you display your power among the peoples.
With your mighty arm you redeem your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph

The waters saw you, O God,
the waters saw you and withered;
the very depths were convulsed.
The clouds poured down water,
the skies resounded with thunder;
your arrows flashed back and forth.
Your thunder was heard in the whirlwind,
your lightning lit up the world;
the earth trembled and quaked.
Your path led through the sea,
your way thought the mighty waters,
though your footprints were not seen.

You led your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

Thoughts about an (almost) Autumn day

Yesterday I awoke to a cloud full sky. In the afternoon I strolled through the park with some friends. We talked about how both work and pain came before the fall of man. We talked about conveniences and how they have helped us to an unhealthy state.

One of my favorite things about autumn is the air, when you walk along under changing trees it is as if your lungs fill up with the richest air, it seems to me that I could eat it.

In the evening we stepped outside, the rain was just ending. We walked about the neighborhood. Along the way we came to three majestic oak trees. Someone bent down, scooped up a handful of acorns and battle begun, every man, and woman for themself.

On we walked night came down to replace the silence of dusk, with contemplative music of darkness.

Friday

Today I pretended I was a wood nymph, then I had a tea party.

Symphony on the Waterfront

An evening of fine food and amazing friends sitting on the waterfront listening to the grand music of the symphony. As the evening progressed the hot summer sun set behind the city. The last piece played was the '1812 Overture' with each passing moment the excitement grew, at last they reached the end and the cannons went off! The conductor turned and bowed; everyone applauded, but yet the show was not over, from the river came a stream of fireworks into the sky loud and brilliant. But then a friend leaned over and said "Look it is the moon." For sure a pale streak of cloud that had caught our attention earlier was now the horizon the moon was rising from. Big and bold, yet peaceful and gentle she rose above the river, city and sky. As the fireworks were yelling to be noticed, quietly she shone in a brilliant garb not one thread of which was made by man. They applauded at the 'grand finale' yet there is something already grand simply hanging in the sky,

SIX DAYS!!!

But who's counting?

All Things Must Come To An End

Soon Evan set out on his boat to the village he had been sure he would never return. While out on the sea there is not much one can do except think. Evan would look up at the sun and think of the lass' blond hair. At night he again would look up and the darkness would remind him of Ella's long black hair. On a clear day he thought the blue above was like the blue of his lass' eyes. His gaze would wander down to the gray, blue and green of the sea and would get lost in it, which would remind him of Ella's. During the days he found himself over and over again comparing the blond-haired blue-eyed lass with Ella. Not just how they looked but also everything they did. How they acted, what they said, how they laughed. Evan thought over it all again and again.

A few days Evan arrived at the small fishing village on the very day the ring was supposed to give him the one his heart truly desired. Evan walked around the better part of that day still thinking over something. He saw the blond-haired, blue-eyed lass walking with a friend to the well. Evan watched her as she drew her water then turned and walked away, toward her home. It was then as the blond-haired blue-eyed lass was walking down the dirt road Evan knew what he was going to do. He ran back to his boat, sailed up the cost, then headed inland.

Finally after what seemed many days traveling (but in fact was only five days) Evan was facing a red door to a very well kept house on the edged of a village. He stood there standing on the stone step just staring at the door. If he knocked at the door his dreams may never come true, yet if he never knocked dreams would be all he would have. So he knocked. A young lady opened the door. But it was not Ella. Evan was confused, he thought he had gone to the wrong house. Then he remembered that Ella had a young stepmother. "Is Ella in the house?" he wasn't sure if he had said it in a shout or a whisper, but how ever he said it the young lady heard. Suspiciously she asked "Who are you?" My name is Evan he replied "Oh... your Evan!" she said with a kind smile "Yes, she is around back."

Following a worn path around the house Evan found what must be the back. Ella was there. She was tending some flowers. Evan stood and watched her. Then he steeped towards her, Ella turned around and saw him. "Evan" She exclaimed as her face light up, then he saw confusion come across her face. "Evan... Evan why aren't you with your bride?" "Ella the merking said if in one year and a day I give this ring to the one my heart truly desires she shall surely accept me. It has been one year and six days Ella will you marry me?" She looked straight in his face through to his very soul and said "Of course I will, of course I will."

So she wore his ring, they were married with her fathers blessing, and lived happily in their cottage by the sea for the rest of their days

The End

Splendid Day

Today was such a beautiful day.

My sweet friend gave me a ride to school, she also gave me Krispy Kream Doughnuts

I taught Kindergarten P.E. (a bunch of 5 year-olds doing P.E. is the funnest thing to watch)

I got to hang out with Batman (who's alter identity is a preschooler)

We blew grass trumpets during a sunny and warm recess duty.

I was given flowers, for teacher appreciation week!

When I came home there was a package in the mail, from my dear dear friend.

My super duper cool cousin called. We ended up taking for about hour.

All in all it was a splendid day. The sky is blue, and there is a fresh spring breeze blowing about the house.

Thank you God for a day that brightened up the world.

As We Draw Near the End

One summer afternoon Evan realized Ella was not her normal bright self, she seemed solemn. When he asked her what was wrong. she replied with the typical "Oh nothing." She stayed in this melancholy state for a week. So one evening during dinner he asked her again what was troubling her. Ella stared at the barely touched potato on her plate for a moment then answered "The other day, I looked at the calendar and saw that is is just over three weeks until the ring is suppose to work. So I have been thinking about what I should do." Evan was surprised that the day was so soon in coming, then he realized what Ella was saying, "What do you mean to do now, Ella?" Ella looked down at her potato again, poked it with her fork then said, like someone who has decided on doing what they know is the right thing. "I'm going to go back to my father's house. I was too quick to leave it. My stepmother was nervous and not sure of herself. I see now that I was wrong to leave as I did."

The following two weeks were a whirlwind of preparations getting the cottage ready for the bride and getting Ella ready to go back to her father's house. Early one morning Evan saw Ella off. She road on a coach which was headed towards her father's village.

flirt |flərt| verb 1 [ intrans. ] behave as though attracted to or trying to attract someone, but for amusement rather than with serious intentions :

I have been thinking about this word a lot lately. Some questions have been wondering though my head. Such as;

#1 What is flirting?

#2 Is it ever acceptable or appropriate to flirt?

#3 Do I flirt?

To answer the first of these questions, I have asked a few different people, of a variety of ages and back rounds, what they perceive flirting to be, the common theme is; "trying to get attention from someone (or someone's) from the opposite gender".

The second question is the one that baffles me. I have always thought flirting was people being too immature to have a decent (as in quality) conversation together. But I have some dear friends who think it's okay to flirt.

Question three. In all honesty I would have to say I have flirted, but I am not proud of those points in my life. When I am with my friends having a good time, sometimes I get the idea; "Oh if I say this and that, he'll see me, and think I am so funny." Sometimes I do it sometimes I don't.


To sum up it all up. I would say flirting is when "just having fun", crosses over into "trying to get attention". I can say from personal experiences that flirting can end in a confused and hurt heart. So I would rather not repeat what I see as my mistakes of the past, for what I might see as harmless fun at the present.

Waiting

The days were now turning warm. Ella spent most of her time outside where she could feel the cool that came off the sea. Her flowers were so beautiful! I think why they were so pretty was she would sing to them, though she was not a great singer, but she enjoyed singing softly while tending to the cottage duties and the flower beds. She would also tell stories to her flowers. Draw your own conclusions but I think any living thing would grow better if it was feed music and stories.

One afternoon Evan finished early, as he walked up the stone steps he heard, through the open door, Ella singing. He stood in the doorway for a minute just to watch her. She did not know he was there for she was not facing him. Evan saw the spring days had added much color and life into her face. He saw she was dreaming of something, and admiring her own hand. Ella was looking at it like a girl will, first tilting it one way then the next. Evan then saw what it was. Upon her finger was the ring. Evan went in and grabbed her hand "How could you, Ella?" he asked as he took the ring off her hand. "What if you had lost it? What would happen then? How could you do such a thing?" Ella turned to face him seeing tears well up in her eyes and realizing how harsh his words had been, he apologized for loosing his temper, but would she promise not to wear the ring ever again? Ella forgave him and promised never to wear it again. When Even turned to put the ring back on the mantel, she added in a whisper "Not until you ask me to."

Sometimes I want to give up and take the "easy" road. Randomly pick a school or a job to do, then some time go out meet a boy get married and have a "pulled together life". But that my friend would only be a life partly lived. Sometimes I forget I haven't given up, I forget there is a battle going on for my life, and for the world. I'm just passive not caring my weight, doing what I could, going out and fighting for the one who loves, and saved me. I'm not even practising. Both are lives only partly lived.

Today was Good Friday. We talked about how Christ actively gave himself to save what he created, what he loved. And then I look at what little I'm willing to do for him, sacrifice for him, let him handle, trust him. Over and over I am telling him he is not good enough to run my life (much less save it) he doesn't realize what I have to do in this day and age to have respect from people, what is demanded of me.

Christ,
You are the only one who can save me, no one else can do it. I want to live a full life for you, doing what you dreamt of me doing, I want to live a life that reflects your glory back to you. I know I often want the spotlight, I'm sorry for taking your praise. Like the Triumphal Entry I am just the donkey you are riding, it would be foolish to think they were saying "Hosanna!" to me without you I am simply a donkey, who doesn't know what to do.
Take my life and do with me what you will, I pray you will give me courage and faith.

At Last! (April Fools)

I didn't want to tell everyone because I've been waiting to see if it would really happen.
So here is whats going on; as many of you know I have loved Ireland since visiting it 7 years ago. Well this fall I get to move there and live with this family I know until the spring! To say I am excited would be a gross understatement. I'll be leaving the end of August! Sadly that means I'll miss the camp retreat at the beach. But on the sunny side I'll hear more tales to tell you all when I return. The family I'll be staying with pastor a small church, and has four kids, so I'll be helping around the house and involved in their local ministry.

Ella At the Cottage

The next morning Evan left to sea before Ella was up. But when he was coming back from the village he could smell stew. He and Ella sat down to very tasty dinner together. The next morning Ella was up and about when Evan left. That day when Evan came back the cottage was spotlessly clean. After dinner Evan asked Ella if she would stay and keep house for her in exchange for room and board. Ella said she would and they shook hands on the agreement.

As the days got shorter Evan spent more of his time at the cottage. Evan realized that the out building must be getting cold as the winter was soon to start. He decided he would build Ella a room. It was fairly simple to do. He just took some stones from the cottage, and the ground (for Ireland has many stones) and used them to make new walls. The first day Ella kept her questions to herself, but the next day she came outside, wiped the flower off her hands (she was making biscuits) and asked Evan what he was doing. He said winter was coming and she would need a real room to stay in. And that he thought the cottage could use another bedroom. Well presently Evan finished the room.It was on the small side, it could only really fit a bed and the small bookcase Evan had made for Ella. She said it was fine seeing how she would not be spending a lot of time in the room.

That winter Ella made some of her own improvements in the cottage. She got candle sticks for the table, and yes the windows did need curtains. Evan admitted the walls did look better white washed. Evan helped Ella make a flower bed across the front of the cottage. Ella put all types of bulbs in it. During the long winter they spent the evenings in front of the fire talking of every thing from potatoes to castles and kings. One evening Ella asked what was in the shell case on the fire places mantel. Evan took it down and showed her the ring. As Ella looked at it, while he precede to tell her of his love; the blond hair blue eyed lass, and of the mermaid, and of what the merking had said. Ella believed what Even said about the mermaid (it would have been rude not to)then asked him what day it was exactly when he had spoken to the merking. Then she made a calendar of all the days left until he would gain what his heart truly desired.

The Storm

One day when it was changing from summer to fall. While Evan was at sea, out of nowhere came a violent storm. Big black clouds rolled over the horizon, and the sky turned an eerie yellow green. Evan saw the clouds and started to shore. But then the wind that was moving the clouds reached him, and started tossing the boat. The waves became choppy. On top of that the rain began to fall. Now it was a full fledged storm. The wind was thrashing, the waves were crashing, and the rain kept poring out of the sky. It was all Evan could do to keep himself from being forever lost out at sea. The boat almost flipped a number of times till at long last Evan managed to get it to shore. He glanced up at his cottage there was something dark at his door step, but he had no time to think of it. He grabbed his nets and carried them up to his out building. Those being put away Evan went on to his cottage. The wind was now blowing the rain side ways. Evan saw the dark mass was still on his door step, it looked like seaweed that had been blown up there by the wind. But as he got closer he realized what it was. Evan bent down, and touched it. With a start it scrambled onto its feet. It was in fact a ...girl!

She looked just a few years younger then Evan, and only stood to about five feet high. She was not small in her features. But her eyes, a book could be written about her eyes alone, they were green, gray and deep blue all at once, looking into them was like looking out at sea, always the same, yet always different, and always feeling something deeper then you could see. It was her hair that had covered her, it was dark brown almost black, and its length went all the way down to her knees. “Oh I am sorry," she exclaimed "I was lost and it started raining, I thought if I was by the house it would block some of the wind. But I will move on now if you wish." "No, no come in at least till the rain stops." So Evan started a fire in the hearth, and gave the girl some blankets to wrap herself in for she was drenched to her core. She attempted to say more but she was coughing so much Evan stopped her and said she was in no condition to say anything till she had something warm inside her. He gave her some hot broth then let her tell her tale this is what she said;

"Well my name is Ella. I am the daughter of a man who lives about three day’s trip inland. My mother died when I was just a wee lass. Two months ago my father married a lady just a few years older then myself. When they wedded I was excited, I thought everything would be splendid. But she has turned out to be extremely mean and selfish. At last I could not take it any longer, so I left my fathers house, determined never to return while his new wife lived. I had no real plan of what I was going to do, I just started walking. I have been wandering a few days now. When I saw your cottage I thought it might shelter me from the storm."

While Evan listened to the girl he saw she was in no condition to keep 'wondering the world'. She had been coughing and looked like she had not eaten for the past week. "That is a sad story indeed but what shall be done now?" he asked Ella. She looked out the window mournfully "Well I suppose I will be leaving now that the rain has stopped." Evan also looked out the window the wind was still thrashing the land, and clouds of charcoal tint were still overhead. "But only to soon start again, you are not well, stay here until you get better I have an out building that is dry and out of the wind there you will be warm" Ella agreed to it. It was a good little building no cracks in the wall, and a well thatched roof over head, and if you don't mind the smell of fish, it would be quiet ideal.

“Look to the heathen with out Christ, and you will find an alter... and may God help you to be a sacrifice.” -Biship Hill

The Land of the Merpeople

One summer day when the sea was as still as glass. Evan was pulling in his nets, when the scales of a fish caught his eye. It looked like it was made with emeralds with some rubies and sapphires. Then Evan realized it must be a mermaid. Sure enough it was. "Please," the young mermaid pleaded. "Please let me go, my father is the king of the merpeople. He can give you anything you desire from his treasure room full of hidden things of the sea. If you will just let me go free!" See in those days they would put merpeople in the circus if they happened into a fishermen's nets. "Of course I will let you go free. Though the treasure my heat desires your father could not have.” said Evan in such an empty hearted way it lead the mermaid to inquire what it was he longed for. Evan told her of the blond hair, blue-eyed lass, and how she laughed at the love he offered her. The mermaid wishing she could do something for Evan, told him her father might be able to help. So Evan swam with the mermaid down to the heart of the sea, to the land of the merking. What Evan saw was more then hard for him to believe. There were houses made of shells of every kind of shape. He saw merpeople of so many different ages, and they all had gems on them. Evan found himself wondering if the merpeople put the gems on them selves or if the gems came from he merpeople. Then when Evan thought he could not see anything more dazzling there it was, a palace made of pearls, pink pearls, black pearls, white pearls, to sum it up it was grand. They went though the gates and the large front door. The mermaid led Evan into a grand hall, at the end of the hall was a very stately and wise merman, and it was the king. When the king saw the mermaid he was overjoyed "Daughter of mine, I am so glad you are safe. What happened to you? I sent the guards out to search the whole sea and they could not find you." " I was foolish enough to get caught in a fishing net. But the man who caught me was kind enough to let me go. I have brought the man here, I thought you would want to meet him." Evan and the merking joined hands. The merking ask if he could give Evan something to show his thanks. The mermaid spoke up and said Evan had a problem she thought he could help Evan with. Evan told the king of the blond hair, blue-eyed lass he loved. The king thought for a moment then left, when he came back, in his hand he held a box made of shells. He handed it to Evan and told him to open it. Inside was a coral ring, and on the coral ring was set a pearl. Evan gasped, then asked what good a ring would do if he had no one to give it to? The king explained it was a magical ring. That in one-year and a day if he gave it to the one his heart truly desired she would surely accept him. Evan thanked the merking for his gift. The mermaid showed Evan the way back to his boat. When Evan got to shore, he pulled his nets in, and went up to the cottage. Evan reached into his pocket and pulled out the shell case, and inside, yes the ring was still there. Evan wondered how a ring could help him. He closed the case and put it on top of the fireplace mantel. Evan though he had a magical ring given to him by the merking, he still had to eat, so fish he kept catching, tending his nets, and so on like I have said before.

Blue Eyes

A long time ago in the land across the sea on the southern coast of Ireland was a fishing village. There lived a young man; he was of sturdy build with black hair and eyes. His name was Evan. In that village also lived a girl with blond hair and blue eyes. Evan for some time had fancied this blond hair blue eyed lass more then any other girl he knew. One day he got up the courage to tell her how he felt. When he did tell the blond hair blue eyed lass, she just laughed, called him a silly boy, turned and left. Evan could not bear being in the village any longer, so he put what few things he had to call his own in to his boat and sailed up the coast till he came to shores he did not know. There on the side of the hill close to the sea Evan got a cottage. He spent his days there quietly. Getting up. Having breakfast. Going out in his boat. Coming back to shore. Bring in the nets. Go to the nearest village to sell his fish. Come back. Tend the nets. Have dinner. Go to bed. Then do it all over again the next day…

Where is Midsummer?

I'm trying not to be seen, but can you see me?

"The Purple Cow" Reflections on a Mythic Beast

I never saw a Purple Cow;
I never hope to See One;
But I can Tell you Anyhow,
I'd rather See than Be One.
Gelett Burgess

I have always enjoyed this poem but it is a little odd( but just a little). I think there might be a hidden meaning somewhere in this poem. Maybe if we took all the capital letters it would tell us some truth; I P C I S O B T A S B O humm... interesting what does this mean?

Post Script: If anyone wants to give me a Milka bar I would be totally alright with that.

I had thought better of you

Has anyone read the "Lady of Shalott" by Alfred Lord Tennyson? Due to the lack, no the complete absence of any comments what so ever, I am lead to think none of you have read it! How can this be? Do not let the size daunt you. All in all it is less then a page of writing. And (yes, I did just start a sentence with a conjunction; they do it in the Bible all the time) it has a great painting inspired by the poem. What more can I say?

Books I have read Since the Spring

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
I had heard about this book for years. I didn't want to read it because I had been told it is about a society that no longer reads, I thought the book would try to make me feel guilty about reading, but instead it was very thought provoking. If you still doubt whether or not you should read this book consider this in the book there is a girl who walks in rain, and enjoys it. Now I have you convinced I'm sure.

The Great Divorce by C.S.Lewis
One of the books I have read more then once. Made me question my own motives for love, what love is and how I view greatness.

Prince Caspian by C.S.Lewis
As a child my father would read out loud to us almost every evening. I think he read the Chronicles of Narnia out loud at least two times through. So I thought that I knew the books, and haven't read any of them (except the Horse and the His Boy my favorite since the first time I heard it). but one day a friend said " You haven't read them for yourself ?" Well I decided to start with Prince Caspian. I enjoyed it more then I thought I would (that means I like it a lot) and to my surprise there seemed to be much more in the book then I remembered.

The Light Princess by George McDonald
I had heard about George McDonald about how he was very influential in C.S.L. life so when I saw this story written by him I was eager to read it. It was a beautiful story of sacrificial love told in a creative way.

The Golden Key by Georg McDonald
This book is also written well. Written by someone who is not ashamed of the fact he is a dreamer. But I think I need to read it again.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
For years (ever first seeing the movie when I was seven) this has been one of my favorite books, but I had never read it till this last winter.

Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
Through my friend Zeppo I was inspired to read this. All summer people kept asking if they could borrower his copy, so I thought 'Maybe I should read this book'. Here again we have another dreamer who dares to dream.

The Man Who Was Thursday by G.K. Chesterton
I read this book first a few years ago and I really did not like it. It seemed like a bunch of nonsense. It did not have a point to it what so ever. Every one I meat though disagreed with me. So this last fall I thought I should read it again. I am glad I did. It now made so much sense. It is a story of order verse chaos.

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen
Aah why us it that the good boy the good girl likes, likes the bad girl, and the bad boy likes the good girl. A true Jane Austen observation on human beings.

Ladies in White

The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Lord Tennyson

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road run by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly;
Down to tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance --
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."

Snow

It snowed today! A bunch of us went sledding on our volcano, with baking trays. Needles to say we had a good time. No one went full on into a tree or a car so I say it well.

25 Things I Would Like to Do Before I Die

I only ever liked the game tag when someone else was it and they were slow, because I didn't like being it, at all. The thoughts you are about to read are in no particular order, I hope you enjoy.

1. Ride an elephant in India.
2. Sail the seven seas.
3. Put my ear to the earth and hear the music it makes to glorify the one who created it.
4. Have a picnic on the Edge of the World.
5. Dance in the rain.
6. Marry the man God has dreamed of putting me with.
7. Live in a house with a red door (I know it seems a small thing).
8. Raise my own family of curly-headed, imaginative children.
9. Act on stage.
10. Learn how to and become a daughter who blesses her parents, a friend who truly cares, a wife who loves with the love spoken of in 1 Corinthians 13, and a mother who teaches her children to discover beauty.
11. Go back to where I would say I spent my childhood, amidst the plains and mountains of Slovakia, the old cites of Europe, and the endless tours. "Do we have to see another castle?"
12. Sit next to a babbling brook a whole day to watch what happens armed only with my sketch book and paints.
13. Send messages back and forth with my friend using carrier pigeons.
14. Learn how to ride a horse really well.
15. Live my life fully for God (there's a double meaning in that).
16. Learn a ballad to sing while doing the wash.
17. Discover, then develop something I am talented at, and use it for God.
18. Go to a very formal occasion being held for someone I know, I would even have a beautiful evening gown.
19. Stand behind a waterfall.
20. Walk to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
21. Learn how to use plants for paints, medicine and such much.
22. Give an acceptants speech.
23. Spend a spring day on the bough of a tree.
24. Use one of those ladders that roll on the top of bookshelves, like in Beauty and the Beast.
25. Like Moses did, speak with God face to face like a man does with his friend.

I tag Fidgit. Your it!