Abba's hands....

It was in the way his eyes held me in their gentle blue gaze. That was my first memory of Abba. It was the way only goodness shown from their depths. I wonder how I could remember something so long ago, yet how could I forget? You held me so safely in your arms when I was child. I remember staring at the sky then, for hours, or at least the minutes seemed like hours. That's the way it is when you are a child. I remember staring at the midnight sky, nearly frightened at it's darkness, until you showed me the stars. I never left your arms. It was a game we played. Hide and seek, You did the seeking, I did the hiding and it always ended in one place. In your arms.

I remember running barefoot. You know you are absolutely childlike when the dark soil of the earth's foundations squishes between your toes and it brings giggles of delight from your mouth. Freedom comes in the place of dirt and smiles, of grime and sun-kissed cheeks. I remember watching how you moved and talked, wanting to be like you in everything. It was just that you were perfect, you were better than anyone else. You were more fun, more exciting and more beautiful.

I saw the way you laughed, and tried to laugh like you. I saw the way you made things with your hands and tried to do it too. I saw the way you talked to the puppies, and wanted to do it too. I saw the way you ran, and tripped in attempt to follow. You scooped me up and carried me away with you. I could speak a thousands words, yet it only took one from you mouth to leave me standing in speechless awe. I could stare for hours into your eyes, and never grow tired of their depth.

Where did my wonder go? Where did the innocent delight go? Where did abandonment go? Where did my eyes like yours go? Where did my laugh like yours go? Why do I leave your gaze?
Why do I run after the flowers, without calling for you to come see?

I need your hands Abba, to grab mine and lead me back. I need your hands Abba, to give me delight once more. I need our hands Abba, to give me comfort, to give me protection. Will you surround me now? In this place of absolute brokenness.

This child is reaching for your hands....yearning for you touch...for your presence.

Thankfulness...and friends.

I never thought I would be homesick. This is crazy new sensation for a girl who has been completely happy and content away from home all semester. I don't know what to do with myself. You see my home was decorated for christmas, the lights were twinkling, the fire blazing, the hot chocolate strongly beckoning...it was extremly hard to leave Throckmorton this evening. I just wanted to cuddle up in blanket on the couch with my mom and talk the hours away into the night. I haven't wanted to do that in a good long while.
I discovered somethings about myself during this thanksgiving break. I love and appreciate my family more than I thought, and painfully realized I didn't love and appreciate them as much as they deserve. It has been a beautiful journey of discovering thankfulness this week. I thought I knew what thankfulness was, but God said no, I'm the one who defines thankfulness. I needed a good dose of humility as well.
I discovered a lot of things this week; a lot about how I view things compared to how things truly are. I was disappointed in a lot of ways, but refreshed in discovering Truth. I was blessed by a lot peace and rest....more than likely more rest than anything.

to be continued...

Suddenly, I became aware of the curious lack of Natasha in my personality. Likely because a 21 year old hooligan with an unruly bit of no-shave scruff has taken control of the keyboard. Thanksgiving was marvelous. Approximately 2 cups of Jell-o pudding salad and some macaroni and cheese found themselves semi-permanently located in my stomach. The turkey and stuffing lovingly prepared by the delicatessen workers at Kroger received lodging in my left leg (previously emptied in preparation). The pain started approximately 15 minutes later: it hurts so good. A load of dishes or two later, we all slipped into a carbohydrate-induced comatic state.

As I slowly regained consciousness after a long and extremely comfortable nap, the thoughts crossed my mind: "I hope we have cereal left at my house." This profound moment led me into musings about the true meaning of Thanksgiving. Surely, it can't only be about the stockings, presents, and carols. The Pilgrims didn't have any of those. But I do have some things to be thankful for. God blessed me with an incredible family who happens to love me a great deal. I got to spend Thanksgiving with a friend who loves Jesus more than food. I slept in my own bed. I spent half a week in a state of continual amazement at God's love. Yeah, I have a good bit to be thankful for. Amen.

to be continued...?

it was good. -Ryan

to be continued...?

I...uh...*laughter*...*more laughter*...made peanut butter balls...that's it. That's it. -Ashley

to be continued...

This Thanksgiving (2008) was the first Thanksgiving in the past four or five years that all four members of my immediate family were together to celebrate thanks. Between Chris and I being in college, parents living in Mexico, Chris living in Japan and expensive air-fare, it's been a while since we've broken bread on the particular holidy. This thanksgiving, we admittedly were some distance from the remainder of our family, but nonetheless, closeness and love were felt in abundance. The addition of a new friend, the Ethiopian Tekle Legese made the holiday complete, as a reminder of the timelessness and unbound bonds of family, life and love in Christ.
Simple fellowship and a complete reprieve from many of the stresses often experienced in "regular life" wrapped the blessing in the guise of a holiday, and as such, we were truly blessed.
I thank God now, as the blessings continue; evidenced to me by being presently surrounded by spectacular friends and siblings in Christ. Praise God! - Bob

The Dream of the Rood

(This is one of my favorite poems from English class this semester! It is was written by the same author as Beowulf...I love it.)


Listen! The choicest of visions I wish to tell,which came as a dream in middle-night,after voice-bearers lay at rest.It seemed that I saw a most wondrous treeborn aloft, wound round by light, brightest of beams. All was that beaconsprinkled with gold. Gems stoodfair at earth's corners; there likewise fiveshone on the shoulder-span.

All there beheld the Angel of God, fair through predestiny. Indeed, that was no wicked one's gallows, but holy souls beheld it there,men over earth, and all this great creation.Wondrous that victory-beam--and I stained with sins,with wounds of disgrace. I saw glory's treehonored with trappings, shining with joys, decked with gold; gems hadwrapped that forest tree worthily round.Yet through that gold I clearly perceivedold strife of wretches, when first it beganto bleed on its right side.

With sorrows most troubled, I feared that fair sight. I saw that doom-beacon turn trappings and hews: sometimes with water wet,drenched with blood's going; sometimes with jewels decked. But lying there long while, I,troubled, beheld the Healer's tree, until I heard its fair voice.Then best wood spoke these words:"It was long since--I yet remember it--that I was hewn at holt's end,moved from my stem. Strong fiends seized me there, worked me for spectacle; cursèd ones lifted me.

On shoulders men bore me there, then fixed me on hill;fiends enough fastened me. Then saw I mankind's Lordcome with great courage when he would mount on me.Then dared I not against the Lord's word bend or break, when I saw earth'sfields shake. All fiendsI could have felled, but I stood fast.The young hero stripped himself--he, God Almighty--strong and stout-minded. He mounted high gallows, bold before many, when he would loose mankind.I shook when that Man clasped me. I dared, still, not bow to earth,fall to earth's fields, but had to stand fast.

Rood was I reared. I lifted a mighty King,Lord of the heavens, dared not to bend. With dark nails they drove me through: on me those sores are seen,open malice-wounds. I dared not scathe anyone.They mocked us both, we two together. All wet with blood I was,poured out from that Man's side, after ghost he gave up.

Much have I born on that hill of fierce fate. I saw the God of hostsharshly stretched out. Darknesses hadwound round with clouds the corpse of the Wielder,bright radiance; a shadow went forth,dark under heaven. All creation wept, King's fall lamented. Christ was on rood.But there eager ones came from afarto that noble one. I beheld all that. Sore was I with sorrows distressed, yet I bent to men's hands,with great zeal willing. They took there Almighty God, lifted him from that grim torment. Those warriors abandoned mestanding all blood-drenched, all wounded with arrows.

They laid there the limb-weary one, stood at his body's head; beheld they there heaven's Lord, and he himself rested there,worn from that great strife. Then they worked him an earth-house, men in the slayer's sight carved it from bright stone,set in it the Wielder of Victories. Then they sang him a sorrow-song,sad in the eventide, when they would go againwith grief from that great Lord. He rested there, with small company.But we there lamenting a good while stood in our places after the warrior's crywent up. Corpse grew cold,fair life-dwelling. Then someone felled usall to the earth. That was a dreadful fate!

Deep in a pit one delved us. Yet there Lord's thanes, friends, learned of me,. . . . . . . . . . .adorned me with silver and gold.Now you may know, loved man of mine,what I, work of baleful ones, have enduredof sore sorrows. Now has the time come when they will honor me far and wide,men over earth, and all this great creation,will pray for themselves to this beacon. On me God's sonsuffered awhile. Therefore I, glorious now, rise under heaven, and I may heal any of those who will reverence me. Once I became hardest of torments,most loathly to men, before I for them,voice-bearers, life's right way opened.

Indeed, Glory's Prince, Heaven's Protector, honored me, then, over holm-wood.Thus he his mother, Mary herself, Almighty God, for all men,also has honored over all woman-kind.

Now I command you, loved man of mine, that you this seeing tell unto men;discover with words that it is glory's beamwhich Almighty God suffered uponfor all mankind's manifold sinsand for the ancient ill-deeds of Adam. Death he tasted there, yet God rose againby his great might, a help unto men.He then rose to heaven. Again sets out hitherinto this Middle-Earth, seeking mankindon Doomsday, the Lord himself, Almighty God, and with him his angels,when he will deem--he holds power of doom--everyone here as he will have earnedfor himself earlier in this brief life.

Nor may there be any unafraid for the words that the Wielder speaks. He asks before multitudes where that one iswho for God's name would gladly tastebitter death, as before he on beam did.And they then are afraid, and few think what they can to Christ's question answer.Nor need there then any be most afraid who ere in his breast bears finest of beacons;but through that rood shall each soulfrom the earth-way enter the kingdom, who with the Wielder thinks yet to dwell.

"I prayed then to that beam with blithe mind,great zeal, where I alone waswith small company. My heart wasimpelled on the forth-way, waited for in each longing-while. For me now life's hope:that I may seek that victory-beamalone more often than all men,honor it well. My desire for thatis much in mind, and my hope of protection reverts to the rood.

I have not now manystrong friends on this earth; they forth hencehave departed from world's joys, have sought themselves glory's King;they live now in heaven with the High-Father, dwell still in glory, and I for myself expect each of my days the time when the Lord's rood,which I here on earth formerly saw,from this loaned life will fetch me awayand bring me then where is much bliss,joy in the heavens, where the Lord's folk is seated at feast, where is bliss everlasting;and set me then where I after maydwell in glory, well with those saintsdelights to enjoy. May he be friend to mewho here on earth earlier died on that gallows-tree for mankind's sins.

He loosed us and life gave,a heavenly home. Hope was renewedwith glory and gladness to those who there burning endured.That Son was victory-fast in that great venture, with might and good-speed, when he with many,vast host of souls, came to God's kingdom,One-Wielder Almighty: bliss to the angelsand all the saints--those who in heavendwelt long in glory--when their Wielder came, Almighty God, where his homeland was.

Jesus.

( I began writing something last summer that I remembered today. I decided to finish it, realizing how timely it was because of a song that God has brought into my life this week. I just wanted to imagine what is would be like if I put myself in the time, in that place, in Jerusalem, near Jesus. What would I do? I'm not sure this is a completely accurate portrayal of what I would be like...I might actually have run the other way instead of towards the cross. But know this spoke to me, even as I wrote it. I wanted to post the words to the song (that is the chorus of the song) too before what I actually wrote.)

May I never lose wonder, the wonder of Cross. May I see it like the first time, standing as a sinner lost. Under thy mercy I'm left speechless, watching wide-eyed at the cost. May I never lose the wonder, the wonder of the Cross. (vicky beeching)

Jesus

It was blood I found first. The streets were deserted, filthy with trash from the angry mob that had passed before me. The stones were smeared with a dark long stain. I knelt, one finger to the street, brushing the still-wet substance. My finger came away a deep red.

I closed my eyes, a terrible pressure tightening my chest, bearing down in a pain that threatened to explode. Full of dread, I rose, following the trail of blood; tears involuntarily dripping down my cheeks. Why were they doing this too him? Why?

I spotted a beggar on the street, hands outstretched. I rushed to him, grateful for someone, anyone to tell me the truth...truth I did not want to hear, but was desperate for none the less.

“What has happened? Where all the people, where is Jesus?”

I nearly shouted at him, the poor man. He cowered and pointed one claw-like hand towards his left. “To Golgotha, my lady. They mean to crucify him.”

I stepped back as if slammed into an iron wall.

No!“How long ago?” I managed to ask in a voice weak and lifeless.

“Only just. The crowd was here two minutes ago.”A small measure of hope pierced my mind.

Perhaps I could reach him in time. I thrust a gold shekel into the ragged man’s hands and took off in a sprint down the cluttered thoroughfare. His cries of gratitude fade amidst the pounding of my own heart.

I didn’t hear the crowd until two hundred yards later. My breath was ragged and lungs bursting, but I pressed on, beginning to pass scattered groups of people.They stared, no doubt surprised to a see a young woman running through the market streets. I ignored them, as the crowd’s roar began to heighten. I reached the first fringes, just as they neared the gates to the city.

“Let me through!” I screamed, weaving through the growing mob.Someone tried to shove me over, but I kept my feet and ducked through four porticoes and slipped through the gate.

Horrendous shouts, the foul stench of unwashed bodies and animal dung filled the air, mingled with dust and sweat.

“Please, I must get through!” I pleaded, pushing now in a frenzy.

I fell to my knees once, the stones scraped through the fine linen of my tunic. It stung violently, but I took no notice, nearly crawling. I found a way to the nearest building and pulled myself up. I pressed forward once more.

The crowd’s faces were full of hideous expectation, as though some spectacular play was about to flash before their eyes. My face no doubt was stricken with grief. I felt dizzy, my vision blurred. Was there anyone who cared?

I was nearly to the outer gate now, the momentum of the crowd was beginning to carry me along with it. The crack of the bullwhip was the first hint that I was drawing close. I knew he had already been beaten. I had seen crucifixions before. I knew what they were doing.My tears had calmed. I knew only one thing. I must see Jesus.

More pushing and pleading and almost near shoving got me fifty feet closer. I could see wooden beams being carried above the crowd’s heads. I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp and rushed headlong into the remaining crowd, until the men carrying the beams came into sight.

Jesus was not there. Hope lashed out with its bitter gust as I suddenly clung to the thought that his sentence had been reversed. But then I saw him, struggling behind the first cross beam, which was being borne by another man.

Someone was carrying his cross!

I swallowed tears of gratitude at the youth, who’s face was pouring with blood. Apparently he had been struck across the forehead. Then I turned my eyes on Jesus.It was the most ghastly of sights. I began to cry once more as I pressed closer, trying to get in step beside him.

His skin was covered in blood, his clothes hung in tatters, sticking to the open gashes and wounds gaping across his back and arms. I covered my mouth in horror as I realized pieces of skin were hanging from his tunic.

His face was still turned away. I knew it must be a horrific sight as well. Floggings disfigured and crippled men for life.

“Jesus...” I whispered, now within ten feet of his labored journey.

His head, glistening with blood, and painfully crowned with a mocking wreath of jagged thorns, turned towards me.

I sobbed in intense anguish as his one good eye, amidst a mangled mass of bloodied flesh stared back at me. The other eye, I saw was swollen shut, a purple lump.

“Jesus.” I breathed, gazing into his eye.

His brutalized appearance vanished as that one eye fixated itself on me. He consumed all other thoughts.It was as if I was being transported back to that time when I first saw him on the temple steps. He’d consumed everything then as well. Every thought, every breath, every movement.

“Jesus...” my voice came out as a pitiful whimper.

I once again saw my life flash before my eyes. Every little detail with startling clarity, yet through it all overwhelming love consumed my being. Like that day on the lake it knocked me to my knees. I wanted to die. If they killed him, I knew my life was over. I could not live without him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. I saw the pain, the anguish, the weight of a thousands lives, but I saw something else...determination. He was going to see this through, til the end. His last words to me the morning before echoed in my grief ravaged mind.

...I must follow my Father’s will...

I didn’t like this Father he talked about. This powerful being who was making Jesus do such a horrifying thing. I wanted to scream at someone. Anyone. Only a stifled gasp poured from my lips.

“Get up,” said Jesus, in a garbled voice,” This is not the end.”

My eyes gazed at his mutilated face, unable to stand up.

“Get up,” he repeated, and then struggled past me as the soldiers shoved him on.Without knowing how I found myself rising and following, with less urgency than before, but with the same passionate force. In twenty minutes we were outside the city. Numbness had settled around me. I wanted to flee, to escape, yet I wanted to stay. I must stay.

The crosses were being raised on the hill by the time I reached Jesus once more. His screams were the only screams I heard as the nails went through hands and feet of the sentenced men. I was weeping now, beyond control.I stopped within twenty feet, near the edge of the hill, as the cross was raised. All I could see was the blood on his shaking body. I wondered how much more he had left. His eyes met mine once more, even as he shook in agony. I wanted to run again, but I had already fallen to my knees. I would not leave until he breathed his last.

“Why?” I moaned over and over again.Staring into his face, the answer slammed into my chest with a weight heavier than darkness.

...It is for you...

“No!” I screamed,” NO!”I tore my eyes away, unable to look at him any more and covered my face in shame.

Cold dread ripped into me, yet even as it did, warmth flooded my body.

...I love you this much...

The shame faded, receded like the tide going back to the sea.

...you are worth it...

And then I wept for joy. I wanted to stop myself, but couldn’t. Jesus wouldn’t let me

Week Eight: The Heart of a College Student...be courageous.

" Every place on which the sole of your foot treads, I have given it to you...No man will be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just as I have been with Moses, I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you. Be strong and courageous, for you shall give this people possession of the land which I swore to their fathers to give them. Only be strong and very courageous; be careful to do according to all the law which Moses My servant commanded you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, so that you may have success wherever you go. This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it; for then you will make your way prosperous and you will have success. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:3, 5-9

Week Seven: The Heart of a college Student...as a child.

Its back to you and Me.

God is drawing me, pulling me after Him, showing me His heart...showing me my heart. My heart is not the prettiest thing. I don't like having to dig down inside of it. I don't like being shown what motivates me. I don't want to real. But God is not giving me a choice. Like a garden He is walling me in on all sides, hemming my way, giving me no rest, no escape. I have no other option. He wants me, all of me.

He wants me to be His child again, His baby girl. He is beckoning me to come after Him, to play in His garden, to release everything in abandonment, to let nothing worry me. How much can I trust Him?

Week Five or Six?...I can't keep up, I know I'm somewhere in October now.