Glorification and Dedication

There's a funny little trick that Olivia has employed to keep herself from being so nervous at piano recitals and music festivals.

Only, it isn't really a trick. It's an entirely different mindset.

This mindset is founded on such verses as the following:

And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.
Colossians 3:17

And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance; for you serve the Lord Christ.
Colossians 3:23-24

 If anyone speaks, let him speak as the oracles of God. If anyone ministers, let him do it as with the ability which God supplies, that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belong the glory and the dominion forever and ever. Amen.
1 Peter 4:11

And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’

Matthew 25:40

When one realizes that one is not serving oneself--or even others--but God, in whatever they do in word or deed, one's attitude toward life changes. One is infinitely more motivated, patient, and at peace. One needn't worry about pleasing others or satisfying oneself, because it is the Lord Christ whom one serves. And when one does all in the name of the Lord Jesus, one's efforts are blessed. The outcome may not be as one intended, but that is okay, because one dedicated one's performance to one's God, and in this one can be fully content. And often, the outcome is even better than one dared to hope.

(Olivia is now tired of writing in ones, and will move on to a less proper they henceforth if necessary.)

While Olivia knew this, to some extent, intellectually, it didn't hit her until sometime last year that whatever you do really means whatever you do, and that one can find complete contentedness in the smallest of matters. And her life has been much improved, and her humble endeavors more successful, since then. So she will give you the most tangible and illustrative... illustration... that she can, because points are most effectively driven home with illustrations, even if the illustrations are anecdotal.

Olivia has played piano for a long time. Nine and a half years, in fact. She is not particularly talented and in no way musically gifted, but she is a hard worker and a diligent student (most of the time *cough*), and that can get one pretty far in life, or in a specific pursuit therein. (Not that Olivia's a good example of this, because she isn't especially advanced in piano given how many years she has played, but that is besides the point.)

So in nine and a half years, Olivia has had many, many, piano recitals. Like many people, when Olivia was young and blissfully carefree of others' opinions, she was not nervous at all and performed quite well. But as she got older, she feared making mistakes--because of what others might think, but mostly for her own sake--and, as is inevitable when one fears one's own failure (Olivia isn't very good at abstaining from ones, is she?), she began to make many of them. Nothing huge--she didn't stop cold or break down sobbing--but she was not pleased with herself.

Enter this aforementioned new mindset. Suddenly, everything Olivia did, she did with a different goal in mind. She did not try to please herself, for that did not matter and proved futile. Instead, her sole aim was to please her God. And if she did that with a pure and earnest heart, she could not fail.

Something remarkable occurred. She began to play much better at recitals. Why? There are probably several reasons for this. She wasn't so nervous, for one. She went into it knowing she wouldn't fail, after all. And because she played as for the Lord rather than for men, she could thoroughly enjoy what she did, and therefore focus, and therefore play better. And because she played for the Lord rather than men, or herself, and because she wouldn't fail her objective, she put more effort into it than she ever could have otherwise.

So Saturday, this was her assurance as she went into the church where her music festival was held. Everything, it seemed, was against her. She was already tired and not feeling so great. When she got there she used the restroom, and her hands were afterward as icy as the water she washed them in (and her hands get stiff when they are cold, and it's hard to play well with stiff hands). Before she even had a chance to sit in the waiting room and prepare mentally, she was whisked away to the sanctuary, and climbed the stage and sat at the piano quite out of breath, foggy of mind, and with freezing, stiff fingers.

Then she warmed up. The piano was a baby grand on wheels, and the most unstable one she's ever played on. As she lifted the pedal up and down the whole instrument rocked. The keys were quite different to press than the pianos' she usually plays, but at least she'd been accustomed to a variety of pressabilities. (What's this, spellcheck? "Pressabilities" isn't a word? Bah! She longs for the day when Olivian is a language option.)

Her first piece actually began quite well. She knows it so well she could almost play it with her hands behind her back--assuming the piano was also behind her--and she was also slightly dazed, so she started not really paying attention to what she was doing. And then her memory slipped. She knew where she was in the song and what it was supposed to sound like, but not which notes made that sound. She groped and hit a few wrong notes trying to figure out what to do next.

Then her brain kicked in and she remembered who and what she was playing for. She didn't recall the forgotten notes, but she did flow swiftly into the next measure. From there on out she was able to enjoy what she was doing, because she didn't have to please the judge or herself. She would get an Excellent, not a Superior, thanks to her error, but that was okay.

The next piece she was also able to enjoy as her fingers flew through Schumann. In a couple places her cold, stiff left hand wasn't quite caught up to her right hand, but that was okay. She would get an Excellent. And that was okay.

She finished and sat just outside the sanctuary awaiting the judge's comment sheet and his score of "Excellent". When the lady who had first ushered her to the sanctuary handed the sheet to her, Olivia knew already her score, so her eyes went first to the commentary. The judge praised her smooth recoveries and offered a few suggestions like not accenting certain notes so much. "Good spirit!" he said in regard to the Schumann, and at the end he wrote, "Bravo!"

What an odd compliment for an Excellent pianist. Olivia went over all the comments again to be sure she read correctly.

"A Superior Plus!" the lady--whom Olivia had forgotten was sitting beside her--said. "Congratulations!"

Olivia stared at her.

"He doesn't give those out to everyone, you know."

Blink, blink.

Olivia turned back to the comment sheet. At the bottom was printed each of the possible scores from best to worst: Superior. Excellent. Good. Fair. Poor.

The judge's pencil did not circle "Excellent". Instead, a bold trail of graphite surrounded "Superior". Two perpendicular strokes were drawn beside it, in a plus mark.

Olivia laughed out loud. "I really wasn't expecting that."

And she wasn't.

And if God thus acknowledges such tiny, tiny details in life, how greatly does He bless a life devoted to Him?

Greatly, you can be assured.


Photo credit dennis.ramos on Flickr 

Where Has Olivia Been?

And why hasn't she been posting?

Besides the obvious--right here--and the usual--she's been too lazy busy--Olivia actually has some pretty good reasons for sealing herself from the world.

Exhibit A:

Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus.

That's right, Olivia had MRSA.

That--that purple thing was inside of her!

It's kind of paradoxical, really, that something such a pretty shade of purple could be so wicked, and in the wicked-bad kind of way rather than the wicked-good or wicked-cold kind of way.

"Um, Olivia," you say, "it's not really purple. It's only purple because smart scientist people dyed it that way so you could see it better."

"Oh, yeah, um, right. I knew that." She tugs on her blonde hair. "I just forget things sometimes!"

Still, it's a blasphemous usage of the color purple!

You might be wondering now what having MRSA entails. (And what it means: it is a staph bacterium that has mutated to be resistant to a number of antibiotics, which makes it doubly nasty.)

Well, to abridge this story, Olivia got a small pump on her leg which was very sore, and then it got very, VERY sore, and then she got more very, VERY sore sores on her legs which then burst and gushed blood and pus everywhere (it's a very, VERY good thing that Olivia takes a fascination to these things and is not easily disgusted by blood and pus, because if she were, she would have retched on top of it all). On Monday Olivia had a doctor's appointment already scheduled, and when the doctor took one look at the worst of the sores, she told Olivia's mother to take her to the ER and get admitted to the hospital.

Olivia was rather angry when she heard this. Olivia, you see, HATES hospitals. This is also a little paradoxical, because Olivia is quite fond of science and especially of medical-related things, but she LOATHES medical environments with every fiber of her being. (Her mother wants her to be a pediatrician, but Olivia says she would die to spend any more of her life in a clinical setting than she already does, and instead desires to become a large animal veterinarian, so she can largely work outdoors.) 

She also learned she has a good deal of depression which she keeps at bay by staying insanely busy, but being idle in the hospital, which is an exceedingly dark and gloomy place to begin with, put her over the edge, and she sobbed, inconsolable, for hours, even though she was responding very well to the treatment and knew she would probably get to go home very soon.

Overall, her two nights (and threeish days combined) in the hospital were a very dark and slightly traumatizing time she prefers not to think about, but she survived emotionally by reading Job (and especially 6:10) and praying (for herself and others) and reading some Hamlet (which is NOT what you should read when you need a pick-me-upper, though it is very well written), and she has a large group of truly amazing friends (and family) who prayed for her, and she responded amazingly well to the antibiotics and got to go home Wednesday, and was well enough with the doctor's permission to go to homeschool co-op Thursday, a piano lesson Friday, work on the ongoing project of revamping her room Saturday, and go antiquing and bookshopping* (you can save that footnote till you get to the end of this sentence, because that footnote is long, but you probably already read that footnote anyway, so sorry, and I'm just stretching out this paragraph now) with her mom Sunday, and resume run-on-sentencing on Monday, though the people she came into contact with treated her a bit like a leper, for which she can't really blame them, because MRSA is nasty and nobody wants it.

(And yes, she might have made that sentence super long just for the sake of it and to show you that she is much better now.)

She shall continue her antibiotics course till Thursday, and while her wounds are still a bit sore when she moves in a certain way, they are much, much improved. (She was in so much pain in the hospital, the nurses wanted her to take narcotics, but Olivia does not like feeling loopy, so she only took Tylenol, and dealt with the pain.)

Well, and there you have it: the tale of Olivia's hospital trauma experience, which turned out to be augmented rather than abridged. To (badly) paraphrase Mark Twain, she doesn't have the time to write a short post.

So hopefully now you understand why Olivia has not been up to blogging lately. Hopefully, she will blog a bit more if she finds the time once she makes up for a week unproductivity, though she doesn't really NEED to make up for it, because no one forces a school or any other schedule upon her but herself, and she was so immensely productive last semester she kind of needed a break; she just feels slightly panicky when she is not intensely productive (it probably goes back to keeping that depression at bay).


*She met two pretty cool people at Barnes & Noble. The first showed her to the Shakespeare section, and she had recently played Olivia in a production of Twelfth Night. Then, as Olivia was checking out (well, really her mother was doing the checking out, but anyway) with a rather nerdy stack of books (Twelfth Night, The Tempest, a nonfiction book on Shakespeare, Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, and Tennessee William's The Glass Menagerie) (yes, Olivia is doing a self-conducted study of drama), the woman checking them out asked which class she was in, for two classes at a nearby university were reading the latter two plays. When Olivia's mother told her that Olivia was, in fact, reading them purely for fun, and that she was a tenth grade homeschooler, the lady didn't even bat an eye, for she too had been homeschooled, and therefore understood these things.

That was almost as long as some of the footnotes in some of the editions of Shakespeare Olivia looked at. She is leaving it in a large font, to spare your eyes.

A Precursor of Deep Musings to Come

 

³ Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, ⁴ who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. ⁵ For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ. ⁶ Now if we are afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effective for enduring the same sufferings which we also suffer. Or if we are comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.
- 2 Corinthians 1:3-6

If I suffer, I will be better equipped to minister to those who are also suffering any kind of affliction. It is this thought that sustains me of late, and allows me to embrace with joy the pain and trials this life brings so that I will be receptive to the lessons it teaches.

The topics of affliction and perseverance and comfort have been weighing heavily on me lately, so you might see a number of posts in the near future dealing with that.

On a lighter note, today or tomorrow, if I remember, I'll be posting my New Year's post, which has been delayed a couple weeks by feelingnotsowellness. Which is totally a word, by the way. Look it up--it's in the OOD*.

*Oxford Olivian Dictionary

What It's All About

It's amazing how many movies and TV specials air during this season which claim to be about "the true spirit of Christmas", and yet skirt around the actual true meaning of Christmas.

That's why I love Charlie Brown Christmas--Linus hits the nail on the head, simply though profoundly, and quietly leaves the stage.

Of Prayer, Outreach, and Perseverance

Firstly, two prayer requests:

For Birdi, who has scoliosis and is about to undergo an operation on her back;

and for baby Adam, who was born with Bartsocas-Papas Syndrome, and for his parents as they face these trials.

Secondly, and on a much lighter note, it is amazing the global reach this little blog can have! Just this week I have had readers from the US (well, naturally), New Zealand, Russia, Ireland, Haiti (hi, ZNZ!), Latvia, Turkey, Australia, India, Germany, and the Czech Republic.

People have stumbled upon this place searching for joseph mary, angel of god, joseph bible character, the virgin shall be with child, stack of books, house on the rock, house on the rock photos, mary betrothed to joseph, house on the rock blog olivia (someone was actually searching for me!), fistulated cow, and phagocytosis. Oh yeah.

Thirdly, a brief ramble, if you will bear with me.

I will not despair.

To despair is to be defeated, and with God's help I am going to conquer this.

With my God I can scale any wall.

I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.

With God all things are possible.

How can I give up when I have such a wonderful Friend?

How can I let down He who never lets down me?

How can I do anything but trust Him? If I cannot trust in Him I can trust in nothing, and I would indeed despair.

But thanks be to God who is faithful! I am not anxious, but by prayer and supplication make my requests known to God. Tomorrow worries for itself; for today I have God.

And that is more than I need.

Those Items which Occupy My Desk at Present

On a normal day, my desk area is neat and tidy, because I cannot work in chaos. However, my desk items are revolting, and now crowd its entire surface in protest, crying, "5% of the desktop occupies 93% of the office accessories!"

I thought I would seize this pivotal moment in history to describe my desk's contents to you, because never before has such equality in the distribution of office supplies been seen on the face of my desk.

• My Bible (most importantly!), neatly tucked in an Amish-made bookcover to protect its paperback...ness.
• Two notebooks, one containing ponderings on various theological and philosophical subjects, another some rather pitiful poetry, and the last some attempts at Venn diagrams.
• Four mugs used as penholders depicting paintings by Mary Cassatt and... some other person whose name escapes me. One contains pencils, mostly mechanical; one Sarasa gel pens; another Papermate gel pens; and the last, other brands of gel pens. (I like gel pens.)
• Several pens and pencils scattered about the desktop, protesting segregation of utensils.
• A hymnal open to Be Still My Soul. Yes, with music by Jean Sibelius!
• Two long rope-like erasers.
• The score to Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67.
• Some Post-It notes containing jottings of a story idea that seized my mind late one night.
• An iPod USB cord... thing.
• Another notebook with musical staves on the sheets in which I've learned composition is not my forte.
• A hair elastic.
• A Kindle.
• A copy of Macbeth.
• A calculator, for I am a calculator addict. But I usually use the app on my iPod, so the real one's rather dusty.
• The Oxford Latin Desk Dictionary.
• Quite an assortment of postcards to be sent to friends, as well as a letter or two to which replies need to be sent.
• A wooden icthys engraved with the words Rejoice in the Lord.
• A Lennox lamb.
• A miniature of Monet's Houses of Parliament in the Fog, the original of which was painted in 1903.
• A tag to something that fell off.
• The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci.
• And lastly, William Shakespeare.

Not to mention the other books and items in the hutch above my desk, which are numerous enough for another posting. Anticipate one in the near future. Or don't, considering my countless unfilled promises of posts to come. I'm prophetically challenged, it would seem.

Counting Blessings

I will give thanks to You, O Lord my God, with all my heart,
And will glorify Your name forever.

Psalm 86:12

and He took the seven loaves and the fish; and giving thanks, He broke them and started giving them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. 

Matthew 15:36

always giving thanks for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father;

Ephesians 5:20

There is just one little problem with counting your blessings.

I can't count that high!

So here are just a few of the things I have to be thankful for.

***

A God who loves, protects, guides, frees.

A family that is stable, and parents who are willing to sacrifice for my education.

A little brother who smiles when I wake up each morning.

The wonderful, godly friends God has given me, who encourage, support, and uplift me.

The older friends, from whom I draw wisdom and guidance, and the younger friends, who are a delight and keep me young.

The internet, telephone, and post, which allow us to keep in touch though distance may separate us.

For sunshine, and for rain, both metaphorically and physically.

For the details which prove God lovingly and thoughtfully fashioned every facet of Creation.

For the hardships that strengthen us and teach us to give thanks, if we let them.

For a warm home and plentiful food and clean water. It's cliche and often spoken without real meaning, but it is truer than I can begin to comprehend.

Being homeschooled.

Pianos, and the knowledge and skill to play them.

For language, for words and their power, and the ability to use them.

For horses.

Wind in my face.

Sunlight seeping through the treetops.

The gift of modern medicine.

Books!

And a thousand other things for which I will spend the rest of my life giving thanks.

I hope each of you has a blessed day spending time with your loved ones.

Happy Thanksgiving!

From the Word

The voice of one crying in the wilderness:
      “Prepare the way of the LORD;
      Make straight in the desert
      A highway for our God.
      Every valley shall be exalted
      And every mountain and hill brought low;
      The crooked places shall be made straight
      And the rough places smooth;

The glory of the LORD shall be revealed,
      And all flesh shall see it together;
      For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

The voice said, “Cry out!”
      And he said, “What shall I cry?”

 

“All flesh is grass,
      And all its loveliness is like the flower of the field.
       The grass withers, the flower fades,
      Because the breath of the LORD blows upon it;
      Surely the people are grass.

The grass withers, the flower fades,
      But the word of our God stands forever.”

O Zion,
      You who bring good tidings,
      Get up into the high mountain;
      O Jerusalem,
      You who bring good tidings,
      Lift up your voice with strength,
      Lift it up, be not afraid;
      Say to the cities of Judah, “Behold your God!”

~ Isaiah 40:3-9~

My Story, My Song

[L]et us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.

~Hebrews 10:22,23~

Blessed Assurance
Fanny J. Crosby

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

Refrain:
This is my story, this is my song,
praising my Savior all the day long;
this is my story, this is my song,
praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight!
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest!
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with his goodness, lost in His love.


According to Wikipedia, 

Crosby was visiting her friend Phoebe Knapp as the Knapp home was having a large pipe organ installed. The organ was incomplete, so Mrs. Knapp, using the piano, played a new melody she had just composed. "What do you think the tune says?" asked Knapp.

"Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine", answered Fanny Crosby.

From the Word

But you did not learn Christ in this way, if indeed you have heard Him and have been taught in Him, just as truth is in Jesus, that, in reference to your former manner of life, you lay aside the old self, which is being corrupted in accordance with the lusts of deceit, and that you be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new self, which in the likeness of God has been created in righteousness and holiness of the truth.

Therefore, laying aside falsehood, SPEAK TRUTH EACH ONE of you WITH HIS NEIGHBOR, for we are members of one another. BE ANGRY, AND yet DO NOT SIN; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not give the devil an opportunity. He who steals must steal no longer; but rather he must labor, performing with his own hands what is good, so that he will have something to share with one who has need. Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear.

Ephesians 4:20-29

Welcome, 2011



Photo courtesy the Associated Press... I think.

So, it's 2011.

First off, the glasses just aren't the same. If the year doesn't have two zeroes, it's just not right.

Second, Happy New Year, everyone!

Third, I have nothing intelligent to say. Every lovely blogger I follow has posted a poignant, eloquent essay reflecting the highs and lows the of past year, or listing ambitions for the year to come, or leaving the past behind to experience 2011 free of nostalgia and regret for what cannot be undone.

This post is neither poignant, nor eloquent, nor to any degree coherent. Kind of like all my posts. So if you'd rather spend your time reading a coherent post, check out any of the blogs listed on the right.

Meanwhile, I'll ramble on about whatever comes to mind as my readers trot off to more interesting, purposeful, [insert suiting adjective denoting worthwhileness] pursuits.

The highlight of the past year was certainly the birth of my baby brother. (And pie. But mostly my brother. Okay, the true highlight was my brother. Though the pie was good too.)

The worst thing of the year was not anything that actually took place, but all those things that didn't happen, everything I could have said and done and did not. Many of those things were reasonably within my grasp, yet I did not exert myself to attain them out of ignorance, out of uncertainty, and often, out of mismanaged time.

I cannot bear to let that happen again.

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, per se (if you think of a way to better yourself, why not start right then and there? why wait till January 1?), but the birth of the new calendar year does cause one to reflect on one's priorities, to sort out what truly must be done and what can wait till another time or needn't be done at all. (I don't know about you, but the beginning of the school year has the same effect on me.)

I feel so sage as I sit here listening to the patter of rain on the roof, sipping tea. Sometime in the future I'll unbury this post and laugh at my youth and naivety. But I suppose it will always be like that, won't it? When I'm a hundred years old I'll find something I wrote when I was ninety and marvel at how much I've grown since. I will never achieve an infinite amount of wisdom. I will never finish learning, growing in love and knowledge.

And I have some goals for the not-so-distant future to help me as I grow and learn.

My main goal is to read the Bible.

In ninety days.

Yes, the whole Bible! Meditations of His Love has set up a wonderful program called the Bible Blast, with two different reading plans, one chronological and one in the traditional biblical order, and some great tips for keeping up with the challenge.

It officially starts today and ends March 31, but if you stumble on the link a bit late, don't worry! It's set up so it can be started any time.

I'm keeping a notebook to record inspiring passages, things I'm learning, questions for which to seek answers when I have the time. By the time I'd gotten three chapters into Genesis I'd filled a page of thoughts and things to ponder.

I will also continue my nonbiblical studies. I will explore science, read as much classic literature as I can, study history, (attempt to) learn Latin and whatever other languages I take a fancy to, practice piano, take up another instrument if I can possibly find the time, and even (most likely futilely) attempt to wrap my mind around the dreaded... math. I've always adored learning (other than the dreaded math) and considered my schooling a top priority, but with college fast approaching it's more important than ever.

Another activity to which more time must be devoted is writing. With everything else in life devouring my time and energy I've written very little the past few years. This needs to change. So many stories are begging to be told I fear I will go mad if I don't start carving an hour or two out of each day to write, or revise, or plot, or revise some more.

And friends. I've wonderful friends I've scarcely spoken or written to lately with everything else going on. I miss them. I need to catch up with them.

I've realized I need to be more helpful to others, as well. I am trying to be more attentive to others' needs, to recognize the appropriate times to assist them in whatever I can.

But my absolute number one priority above all this?

God.

With that, I bring this rambling post to a close. I've Genesis chapter eleven to read!

I pray the new year brings blessings and joy to all of you.

(And a slice of pie to whoever can make any sense of this post.)

Immanuel

Now the birth of Jesus Christ was as follows:

when His mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child by the Holy Spirit.

And Joseph her husband, being a righteous man and not wanting to disgrace her, planned to send her away secretly.

But when he considered this, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for the Child who has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit.

"She will bear a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins."

Now all this took place to fulfill what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

"BEHOLD, THE VIRGIN SHALL BE WITH CHILD AND SHALL BEAR A SON, AND THEY SHALL CALL HIS NAME IMMANUEL," which translated means, "GOD WITH US."

And Joseph awoke from his sleep and did as the angel of the Lord commanded him, and took Mary as his wife, but kept her a virgin until she gave birth to a Son; and he called His name Jesus.

Matthew 1:18-25

Day 5: A Favorite Quote

Photo by atomicpuppy68 on Flickr

Happy October, everyone! I love this time of the year--the golden sunlight, the changing leaves, the crisp mornings and cool nights. It seems like it was just this time last year, doesn't it?

My mom had another ultrasound today, and we got some really cute pictures of the baby! Hopefully tomorrow we can scan them and I can post them here.

Anyway, now to my favorite quotes.

First of all, Bible verses. One I love is Romans 5:3-5, which is over on the right sidebar, and another favorite is 2 Corinthians 12:9-10:

   

⁹And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness " Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.
 ¹⁰Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.

I have so many others, but I'll save them for a later time.

It is growing late, and out of my scores of beloved quotes... I can think of just one.

"I dream of a tomorrow when chickens can cross the road without having their motives questioned."
- Anonymous

It is quite profound, no?

Day 3: A Favorite Book



Photo by austinevan on Flickr



I really do hate picking favorites, which is why this post has been delayed a day.

You see, I love books. I completely and utterly adore them. In fact, you might call me a book hoarder. Overflow from my crowded bookshelves can be found littered throughout the house--one stack topped with a compilation of Hawthorne short stories sits beside me on the kitchen table, a pile of literature books on the floor in the living room, and countless others crammed in the guest room--and that isn't counting the books my mom owns which I have read (many of which are also scattered around the house... we really do need more bookshelves) or books loaned from the library.

So anyway, you can probably understand how difficult, how terribly agonizing it would be to choose just one. And I knew if I allowed myself to include multiple books I would keep thinking of another and another until this very post turned into a novel.

Yesterday I awoke dreading the task, and through the day I kept putting off what I knew would be a gut-wrenching, hair-pulling-outing decision. Just one favorite novel.

Then, finally, after the sun had set, as the stars winked goodnight and my eyelids grew heavy, I thought of an answer.

So I turned on my computer, opened Internet Explorer, and typed in blogger.com, composing the post in my mind as my ancient computer chugged and hummed away trying to load the page.

And it was then, dear reader, that our internet connection was dropped.

Thank you, Comcast, for your excellence in providing internet service.

Now, this is an almost daily (sometimes twice or three times or four or five or six times daily) occurrence with Comcast that is usually cured by resetting our modem/router/watchamacallit thingamabobber (I am positive that is the technical term for it). But at this point I had grown quite weary and didn't feel like typing out a post, so without attempting to revive our internet connection I watched Mythbusters for a bit before dragging myself to bed.

If you read this entire waytoolongandlongwindedandoverdramatic post (the parts about the number of books in the household and our perpetual dilemma with Comcast, however, are not exaggerated in the least), you deserve a reward. The best I can do is wrapping this up quickly.

So I will get to the point of this post.

The very best book ever written is the Bible.

Enough said.

Photo by khrawlings on Flickr

(Oh, and if you want to see a very, very brief list of a small handful of favorite novels of mine, check out my Blogger profile.)