Sometimes life overwhelms me. Now is one of those times. I graduate in like 42 days, and it is so very weird. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in the least bit worried about it; it's just weird. I mean I've been in school for the last 16 years-I've been in school for more years of my life than I haven't been-so the idea of not having that structure and everything that comes with it is a little...weird. (Clearly I'm not feeling very loquacious today; I think I'm a little dehydrated) You may, or more likely may not, have noticed I have missed a few of my scheduled blogs, and there haven't been any other updates to make up for it. My bad. I'm going to try to get back in the groove this week. Meanwhile, I would like to talk about Easter a little.
Friday night at a Bible study I am doing with some sweet friends we talked about so many good things, and the Lord really used what we discussed to prepare my heart for today when I got fellowship and worship with my church family. One of my favorite things we talked about Friday was how amazing ad outstanding it is that The Father turned His face away from His only son because of me. It was and is so impressive to me to meditate on that, and be reminded that my sin was so great and so terrible that God the Father could not bear to look upon His Son and would not ease His suffering. And then that God the Son would willlingly die for me knowing He was going to be rejected by His Father whom He loved and had more special of a connection with than I ever could. It's absolutely amazing. And humbling.
Because of Christ and Christ alone am I redeemed. He made Himself the atonement for my sins, and I am eternally in awe.
Romans 3:21-26 "But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it—the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus."
I pray that I never forget I Peter 2:24 "He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed."
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
PastaJamFest
WPT Episode 1# MAC N CHEEZ from MY LIFE IS PASTA on Vimeo.
So, my friend Joshua has this silly pasta blog, and he decided to do a "Pasta Tour" and this was the result. It was really fun, and I think it's pretty funny. Except for the fact that it made my house smell like garlic for about 2 days. Gross. If it won't play on your computer, just go to Vimeo's site. :)
Thursday, March 25, 2010
It's Kooky
(most sincere apologies to the other 2 band members who aren't pictured)So, it's one thing I love Thursday, and today's lovely thing is "Always Where I Need To Be" by The Kooks. This song is super catchy, and it's one that I always listen to at least twice in a row.
Unfortunately youtube has the link disabled, so you can't watch it on this site, but you can go watch it here. I'm not sure how I feel about boys in girl clothes (ok, I'm certain, I don't like it at all), but I do like the city when it's cold, beaches, and amusement parks, so clearly I love this video.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
English major say what?
"He was a young man of about five-and-twenty, with a dark face, bronzed by exposure to the sun; he had handsome brown eyes, with a feminine smile in them, that sparkled through his black lashes, and a bushy beard and mustache that covered the whole of the lower part of his face. He was tall, powerfully built; he wore a loose grey suit, and a felt hat, thrown carelessly upon his black hair. His name was George Talboys, and he was an aft-cabin passenger on board the good ship Argus, laden with Australian wool, and sailing from Sydney to Liverpool."
Dear Dr. Woodworth, thanks for knowing the best books to let students borrow.
Dear Mary Elizabeth Braddon, you're such a great author; why did I never know you before?
Dear George Talboys, you can be my boyfriend if you want.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Shhhh.
photo here I'm a little heart-broken today. I have a notebook that I write absolutely everything in, and I cannot find it anywhere. It's the saddest ever. The worst part is that in this notebook was all my brainstorming for "One Thing I Love Thursday" and "Secret Saturday." ...soooo, sorry but today's secret is going to be a little lame. It will however give you more insight to my life, which is what is was all about anyways. So here we go.
After I'm done getting ready in the morning, I always smile at myself in the mirror. Twice. One serious, then one silly. And then, I avoid mirrors for the rest of the day. Granted this means that sometimes I have people going, "Oh girl, please fix your hair" a good bit, but I think avoiding mirrors actually helps my self-esteem. I can't judge what I can't see, and if the last thing I saw was me making a silly face I just remember how fun I am and how if I do whatever I do in my life with confidence (thank you Meredith aka, best roomie ever for that motto) then I can have a good day loving myself and everyone else without being worried about silly superficial things.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
half sick of shadows
It's that time again friends! This week the thing I love is...
The Lady of Shalott
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the fields the road runs by
To many-towered 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'ed,
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
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
Amighty 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 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 in 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."
Wondering how you ever lived without it? You should be. It's so good! Plus, Look how it's inspired so many other artists to do beautiful things.
I really want to write like this. Also, I want to do a "Lady of Shalott" inspired photo shoot. Oh Tennyson, I love you.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Lady of Shalott
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the fields the road runs by
To many-towered 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'ed,
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
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
Amighty 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 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 in 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."
Wondering how you ever lived without it? You should be. It's so good! Plus, Look how it's inspired so many other artists to do beautiful things.
I really want to write like this. Also, I want to do a "Lady of Shalott" inspired photo shoot. Oh Tennyson, I love you.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
My Heart
ok, so prepare for the crazy conglomeration of words that I'm about to throw together in an attempt to share. My thoughts are like ...well I'm the worst at inventing metaphors, but there's a lot of them and one thing always leads to another ("The Fixx" reference intended). I'll try to keep it concise.
One of my favorite Bible characters has always been David. I LOVE the Psalms and David, and Jonathan's friendship is one of the best things I've ever read about. Most of all though, I love that in Acts 13:22, God says "I have found David the son of Jesse, a man after my heart, who will do all My will." David messed up so bad, so many times, but he was a man after God's own heart. Tonight at church my pastor brought up the time that Nathan confronted David after he had blatantly sinned with Bathsheba then spiralled downward. Nathan (who was much better at creating metaphors and drawing parallels than I am) told David a story that enraged him at the antagonist, but when Nathan said 'David, it's you!' He repented. He cared. He was broken.
Sometimes, I am sad to say, that's not me at all. Sometimes I know that I need to change things, that I've done wrong, but I don't confess, and if I do...I don't repent, because I never turn away from it. I love Romans 12:2, "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove that which is good and acceptable and perfect," but a lot of times I don't renew my mind; therefore, I am not transformed. I'm seeing this more clearly and with more acute pain now that Kimberly and I have started going through Disciplines of a Godly Woman again. I know I need to be more intentional and disciplined. I want to change things and make my life an offering to the Lord, but knowing and doing are not the same. I want to be a [wo]man after God's heart, but really I'm after Jenna's heart. And Jeremiah 17:9 says, "The heart is more deceitful than all else And is desperately sick; Who can understand it?"
So here we are. I'm trying to overcome, and I know that I can because I've realized, like David did, "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." I'd appreciate prayers. That God would change me, because clearly I can't, that He would be glorified through me, and that I would be able to live in these verses:
James:4:8-10
Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts, you double-minded.
Be miserable and mourn and weep; let your laughter be turned into mourning and your joy to gloom.
Humble yourselves in the presence of the Lord, and He will exalt you.
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