A few weeks ago my aunt died. At the time no deep observations struck me; only the usual immediate feelings assailed me, and still are. After a few days, though, and lots of thinking combined with emotion, several things have been heavy on my heart, but they can all be summed up with one phrase: We will all meet God.
My aunt was only 67. My grandparents are both well into their 80’s, so that seems like quite a young age to pass away at. The young age brought me to some more thoughts. I think most people tend to presume that they will be able to put off important things. “I don’t need to be disciplined about that now; I can do that when I’m a little older.” The cold hard fact is, though, that no one knows the day or the hour in which their soul will be required of them. In that moment, there is no place for procrastination. You can put off the dealings of your soul for no longer. There is no time to say “Wait, Lord, let me do this first,” or “I was going to START reading my Bible,” or “Give me time to deal with this sin.” Your account must be settled before you are kneeling before His throne. In that moment, there is no more chance for mercy. During those seconds, you must stand before the Almighty God and be held accountable for what you did or did not do during the fleeting moments you had on earth. God does not call us to a lackadaisical approach to Christianity. He does not ask us to only show up at church on Sunday, and live our lives as the world does, with only a tip of the hat to holiness. He does not call us to a cultural Christianity, where we can claim the name of “Christian” yet live with no devotion to Christ. This last Sunday, the pastor (filling in for my dad) mentioned that in our culture people tend to view God as some kind of band-aid to patch up all their problems. You feel like something’s wrong, so you approach Christ as a temporary fix. That is not the Biblical view of Christ.
At the funeral, I was mourning for my aunt. Also, I was mourning for the loss of an era—that of my grandparents. This last week has brought back a multitude of memories that were made with my papa’s parents. My grandma died ten years ago, along with another of my aunts. Since that time, family gatherings with the Edwards side of the family became few and far between. Standing in my Aunt’s house created a sense of déjà vu. I hadn’t been there in probably ten years or so, and it was a strange reminiscent feeling. I expected it to be as it used to be. Needless to say, it was not. I think, that for many people, loss is a distant concept. It has been for me at times in the past. Then, one day, it becomes something that is there, close, and seeming not very real. But for a few moments at least, you are forced to face loss, think about it, and deal with it. It fades, but will always there in the background.
I mourn because my papa lost another of his sisters, and now he and his last sister are all that remains of my grandparents family. But also I mourn because I was so rarely bold about the gospel. We don’t expect that our relatives will be suddenly taken, and when they are, it occurs to you that you have often been reticent in the sharing of the Word with them. My dad did a phenomenal job at the funeral. First he did a short biography of my aunt, and after that he did something much more important—Gave a clear, forceful presentation of the gospel. He pointed out that we are all sinners, that we have a warning in this life, and no more chances in the next. After that he explained what you do about it. Everyone in that room heard the most important things they will ever hear. The Word was spoken, and won’t return void.

There is a song by This Hope that I heard again recently, and it seemed quite fitting.
Someday soon, there’s going to be a great reunion by the sea,
I’ll see my Jesus, cross the water, spread His arms to carry me.
I’m going home, to be with Jesus; I’m going home to see my Lord.
Don’t you worry, don’t you cry. I’m going home now, to the other side.
Someday soon, He’ll read my name, and call me home where there’s no pain,
Nor more crying, and no more sorrow; land where milk and honey flow.
I’m going home to be with Jesus, I’m going home to see my Lord.
Don’t you worry, don’t you cry; I’m going home now to the other side.

Alright. I am gearing up and planning. Some important things, like planning piano lesson stuff, and some less important things… such as formulating a list of books I want or need to read. I should be practicing the piano, but my fingers haven’t been working lately, as evidenced by my destruction of offertory two weeks ago.
Two factors are stopping this from being a long blog. First of all, I just worked out, and think I pulled a muscle…. Or several muscles. Therefore, I am quite tired. The second thing is the fact that I heard a sermon this week on pride, and he brought out how elements of technology such as facebook and blogs do nothing but provide a platform for pride and self glorification. After that, I can’t write one of my weird narratives.
So I give you this. It’s what I needed to hear tonight as well.

His grace is enough for me.
In my weakness, His power is made complete.
When I find my strength is gone, He’s the rock I rest upon.
His grace is enough for me.
… So when trials overwhelm me, and I cannot carry on,
I know that when I’m weak, then He is strong.
His grace is enough for me.

A good reminder…

Put to death therefore what is earthly in you. (Colossians 3:5)
Do you mortify? Do you make it your daily work? Do not take a day off from this work; always be killing sin or it will be killing you. We must strike it as an enemy until it ceases living. Sin is labouring to bring forth the deeds of the flesh. When sin lets us alone, we may let sin alone. Sin is active when it seems to be the most quiet, and its waters are often deep when they are calm. Sin is always acting, conceiving, seducing, and tempting. There is not a day but sin foils or is foiled. There is no safety but in a constant warfare from sin’s perplexing rebellion. Sin will not only be striving, acting, rebelling, troubling, and disquieting if not continually mortified, it will also bring forth great, cursed, scandalous, and soul-destroying sins (Gal. 5:19-20). When sin rises to tempt, it always seeks to express itself in the extreme. Every unclean thought would be adultery if it could; every covetous desire would be oppression; and every thought of unbelief would be atheism. It is like the grave that is never satisfied. Sin’s advance blinds the soul from seeing its drift from God. The soul becomes indifferent to sin as it continues to grow. The growth of sin has no boundaries but the utter denial of God and opposition to Him. Sin proceeds higher by degrees; it hardens the heart as it advances. Mortification withers the root and strikes at the head of sin every hour. The best saints in the world are in danger of a fall if found negligent in this important duty. Negligence of this duty decays the inner man instead of renewing him. It is our duty to be ‘bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God’ (2 Cor. 7:1), and every day to be growing in grace (I Pet. 2:2), and seeking to be renewed in the inner nature day by day (2 Cor. 4:16).
                                                                              --- John Owen, Works, VI:9-14

This and That, Hither and Yon

How long does a blog retirement last, exactly? Is a week or two sufficient to call it a break? We’ll say yes for now, and if I retire it again, I’ll be sure to legitimize it by waiting at least a month before posting. I had sincerely hoped that I would have the remnants of a past blog to help me get going, but the words “No drafts” quashed that dream quickly. Recently all my creativity (and believe me, the stores are easily depleted) has been channeled into either my book or journal. That’s right—my book. I write, all the time. It’s not good, or even interesting, and is relegated to the dusty shelf where I keep my poetry notebook. My plan is to burn all those things (or delete them from the computer, in some cases) within the next few years, lest I die suddenly and the embarrassing results of my fanciful (and moderately dramatic) mind are open to the world. I would hate to “sport with your intelligence” (to quote Ms. Austen) by sharing them. To clarify, though, my book flows much more smoothly than any blog post ever did. If one cannot be random and choppy in a blog, then where on earth can they? (besides in everyday conversation, in which I manage randomness quite well.) After all, the internet is the breeding ground for the decimation of grammatical rules and spelling, not to mention literary correctness. 
Owning the entire encyclopaedia brittannica (macropaedia AND micropaedia) has come in handy for once. (not that they don’t often come in handy, but this time it was more practical). If I can’t sleep, I find something rather mundane to read. Of course, reaching for the encyclopaedia turned out to be not boring at all. Next time I’ll use a phonebook. The result of Monday night’s caffeine-induced insomnia is a remarkable amount of information about Finnish architecture. That’s right, Alvar Aalto was a scandinavian architect who apparently “made the leap from rational-functional to irrational-organic.”  His work was world-renowned, and characterized by flat roofs, ribbon windows, and plenty of balconies and terraces. You see how much you can learn about architecture from one article? Poor man’s wife died in ‘49, but he remarried in ‘52… I’ll bet his two daughters were just thrilled with that move. Yes, I realize how ridiculous it is that I am reciting facts from an encyclopaedia, of all things. I’ll stop now.
Often I claim that my brain is either fried, or not fully functioning, generally because I’m overly tired. As it turns out, though, all those times (mostly in the last two months) have absolutely nothing on the last two days. Being sick brings me to a lack of clarity that I never experienced before, which makes me afraid that my brain not working quite right is the rule, not the exception. Yesterday (the first day I woke up feeling Not Quite The Thing) I decided to either do nothing that I had planned, or go ahead and plow through all of it. Besides, if I must do the unpleasant things, despite how I feel, then I am going to do the fun things as well. It was a looong day, and I feel quite bad for anyone who I held conversations with… I was much less coherent than normal, and possibly even rude. I’m too tired to really remember. Today I am paying the price for not submitting to sicknesses demands of yesterday. I’ve alternated between unrestful (yes, i’m making that word up) sleep which provides dreams so vivid that when I wake up, I can’t tell if they were real or not, and a state of half-wakefulness emphasized by a pounding headache, a horribly stuffy nose, an unspeakably painful throat, achiness, and slightly blurred and unfocused eyesight. Needless to say, I’m exhausted. And I think I know who I have to blame. He is about three feet tall, and I distinctly remember letting him drink out of my Starbucks cold cup this weekend. Silly me, I couldn’t say no, when he was so fascinated by the red and white striped straw. Either that, or a sweet little moppet who blew her nose on me. Three times. She thought it was cute…
Nonetheless, I forced myself to muster up the energy in between naps to tidy my room up. If I am going to be miserable and feel that I am at death’s door, then I am at least going to do it in an immaculate room. The reward of the temporary effort is huge. Lovely instrumental music, (alternating between Swing’s Greatest Hits, Directors Cut movie themes, and random symphonies) two or three candles, and a pot of very hot white vanilla grapefruit tea are the only things motivating me to write. I should be practicing the piano, but that takes too much effort. Every time I begin to think that I have energy, simply standing up reminds me that it’s futile. At least I can be tired in a nice atmosphere.
I love my quiet little domain, but even the satisfaction of a clean, candlelit room cannot keep the desire to travel at bay.The longing for a road trip has come over me again. It usually does this time of year, when it’s been too long since our last vacation. I want to walk the rolling hills of scotland again, but there doesn’t seem to be a high probability of that happening, so I’d be perfectly happy to settle for driving the “going to the sun” highway. Isn’t that the Glacier National Park one? Well, either that or Highway 1 in California. Technically Hannah and I have a cross country road trip planned, but that won’t happen until 2013, and I simply cannot last that long. What I’ve been doing is looking at pictures, hoping that would temporarily satisfy any desire to go, but all that’s doing is making me want to go out RIGHT NOW and buy the Nikon D90 that has been calling my name for a year now. As fun as being (mostly) unemployed is, it has a few practical disadvantages. Currently, the camera and the kindle are the two biggest getting to me. Good thing I have a couple hundred hard copies of books to keep me busy until I buy the kindle. Oh… and the two thousand plus books  in papa’s office. Perhaps I shouldn’t be complaining, after all.
And specifically for Aunt Sandie—Over the last year, every time I complained on facebook about any sort of physical ailment or something that sounds thyroid related, you told me to get it checked out…. Well, I did. I temporarily overcame my IMMENSE dislike of doctors, hospitals, and all things medical just long enough to try out Rachel’s naturopath. Amazing woman. Overlooking the fact that my arm is still bruised from blood drawn a week ago, I’m quite happy with what she told me. Something about deficiencies in the vitamins D and B, cortisol and iron levels. Is it strange that I’m thrilled to find out that something is wrong with me? It’s quite cheering to find out that things will be going up from here. Oh, and here’s a technical detail for you—apparently the thyroid was 1.25, which is normal and okay. Now I can pull the whole “My doctor recommends…” in a sniffly, reedy, british accent. (I’ve been watching too much Jeeves and Wooster lately.)
Well, that’s really all I’ve got for now. I promise that my next post will have something more spiritually-oriented in it. I’ll look for a good excerpt to put up. Have a phenomenal day.

I really don’t… recommend… this.. one…

Hmph. I’m in a strange, exhausted mood, which would imply that it’s unwise for me to blog. However, I’m just exhausted enough to ignore my inner urgings not to post. I thought about deleting my blog, since very few people read it anymore, but for that same reason, I feel I can post whatever sounds good at the moment. And yes, chances are that I’ll delete it later.
For the record, I shouldn’t be taken seriously, because I haven’t slept well in weeks. The last week was worse than most, and when I exist on no solid sleep, my brain turns to mush, my energy is sapped, and I appear generally furious with the world. I’m not; it just looks that way, on account of me having one of those faces that looks snobby if I’m not being ridiculously smiley.
My brain is also rather fuzzy, with plenty of unclear thoughts floating around. I am hoping that getting them out on paper (or in this case “the screen”) will clear the cobwebs enough to make room for a little energy. If that is successful, I plan to do dishes, tidy up my room, then go work out with the punching bag… Meghann and Wes bought me hand wraps for my birthday. Yay for unbruised and not bleeding knuckles. Of course, with the way I’m feeling at the moment, simply getting the room part of that done will be a near-miracle.
Here it comes… the rash of observations that are both unnecessary, and likely untrue. Also a few questions, simply because a contemplative mood has grasped me.
1. Is there a time when you can look back on months in which you were going through hard times without flinching? Or, in my case, speeding through those remembrances, those journal entries, those blog posts, those songs. I think the fear of pain crashing back in keeps me speeding.
2. Marshmallow fondant is the new…well… fondant. I used my birthday as an excuse to make some. And eat LOTS.
3. Birthdays really are much better when you stretch them across as wide a span as possible. This year I managed four whole days. Triumph!
4. Are there any new good music artists out there? Please, shoot them my direction.
5. This post has stretched on much further than it should have, therefore, I’m ending it abruptly, and ungracefully. Au revoir.

Well, well, well. Here we come to another week. I must admit, the thought of posting to my blog leaves me feeling rather drained. But then, so does the thought of… moving… or working out… or anything that requires more than a minimal amount of energy. For some reason, lately sleep has NOT been my friend. It could be the result of several years of simply terrible sleep patterns, but I really prefer not to delve too much into that theory.
I woke up this morning, and my first thought was, “What do I have to do today? What? Nothing? Really?” Enter: Big Smile and Happy Plans. This week has been busier than normal, or maybe I just accomplished more than normal. Monday: Rachel’s house. Tuesday: Early-ish Morning coffee, piano stuff, shopping interlude, book stuff, friends and frozen yoghurt. Wednesday: All day long party. Issaquah, Snoqualmie Falls, Closet-fixing, movies, driving and loud music. Thursday: Getting Things Done. Dinner with people. Excellent. Today was simply a day of “whatever I wants” after getting the important stuff done. Rather nice and leisurely. Now I’m settled with a lovely VENTI!!!!!!! (thank you starbucks for acknowledging my existence and birthday) caramel macchiato, and think it should round out the evening quite nicely, especially when followed by an hour or so of piano. The immaculate vanilla candle scented room waiting for me adds yet another aspect of cheerfulness. (Another thing we won’t explore is my previous stupidity with said  jar candle. Suffice it to say it burned all night… we won’t say where, lest it expose me to unnecessary ridicule.)  And, since I’m feeling cheerful on this cloudy day, I have to put up a poem that I once had memorized but has since escaped me. Thank goodness for google. (and Longfellow)
---------------------------------------------
The Rainy Day
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882)

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

I lied. I couldn’t stay away for two whole weeks this time. Two whole months away from facebook, I could manage. But to actually plan  to take two weeks away from my blog is simply, well, unheard of and unlikely.
Typically when I’m chronically enjoying something, I have to share it with the world, so that they can of course try it out as well. It’d be simply awful to keep all that happiness to myself, and of course if I like something, then it would only follow that everyone else would… right? Well, perhaps not. But it’s a happy idea at least.
Anyhow….  What’s on my mind is books and devotionals. And music. And tea. (the former are taking up much more space than the latter, I can assure you.)
I recently started a book called Heroes, by Iain Murray. I got it from my papa for Christmas. (I have a book list that I constantly update. Currently it’s stuck to my bulletin board with a geronimo dart thing, so it’s the most prominent display if he ever is looking for it. {not that I have a birthday coming up or anything……….} ) Pardon me for the digression. It’s comprised of several biography-esque small sections. That is, instead of writing all about George Whitefield’s life, it takes a predominating theme and expands on it. For example: “George Whitefield and Christian Unity” addresses largely Whitefield’s effect on the Great Awakening and the church in promoting true catholicity. Apparently Whitefield did quite a bit to help reconcile varying denominations to each other’s existence. Obviously not totally, but much more than they were before. It actually reminds me of the motto for FIRE (fellowship of independent reformed evangelicals), which is “In essentials, unity; In nonessentials, liberty; in all things, charity.” That being said, I’m currently working through “Jonathan Edwards: The Man and the Legacy.” It helps to have a full biographical background already in mind, so I’m enjoying this one a bit more than Whitefield, to be honest. Next up: John Newton: ‘A Wonder to Myself’. I highly recommend it.
The other is one I’ve been touting to, well, pretty much everyone I meet. I apologize if I already mentioned it here. Right Thinking in a World Gone Wrong, by John MacArthur. So far, it’s been dousing me with oodles of conviction. Therefore, I’m taking it in small doses. (Not because I shy away from being convicted about more than one thing at a time; rather, because it gives me more time to think, consider, and dwell on one issue at a time. My poor brain can’t handle much more than that.) This one may make my top ten of 2010 book list. (do i have to finish it in 2010 to count it on that list??)
The third and final recommendation comes in the form of an excerpt. You’re already familiar with the book, as I use it all the time here. Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening. I loved this particular one, because the other night it was exactly what I needed to hear to get my mind and heart on track, and be focusing on a glorious truth that sometimes is overlooked. It was encouraging, and brought my thoughts to where they needed to be—On Christ, and dwelling with Him, rather than on myself and the temporal earth, the things that pass away.

Evening, January 10.
“In my flesh shall I see God.” – Job 19:26
Mark the subject of Job’s devout anticipation-- “I shall see God.” He does not say, “I shall see the saints”—though doubtless that will be untold felicity – but, “I shall see God.” It is not -- “I shall see the pearly gates, I shall behold the walls of jasper, I shall gaze upon the crowns of gold,” but “I shall see God.” This is the sum and substance of heaven, this is the joyful hope of all believers. It is their delight to see Him now in the ordinances by faith. They love to behold Him in communion and prayer; but there in heaven they shall have an open and unclouded vision, and thus seeing “Him as He is,” shall be made completely like Him. Likeness to God – what can we wish for more? And a sight of God—what can we desire better? Some read the passage, “Yet, I shall see God in my flesh,” and find here an allusion to Christ, as the “Word made flesh,” and that glorious beholding of Him which shall be the splendour of the latter days. Whether so or not it is certain that Christ shall be the object of our eternal vision; nor shall we ever want any joy beyond that of seeing Him. Think not that this will be a narrow sphere for the mind to dwell in. It is but one source of delight, but that source is infinite. All His attributes shall be subjects for contemplation, and as He is infinite under each aspect, there is no fear of exhaustion. His works, His gifts, His love to us, and His glory in his purposes, and in all His actions, these shall make a theme which will be ever new. The patriarch looked forward to this sight of God as a personal enjoyment. “Whom mine eye shall behold, and not another.” Take realizing views of heaven’s bliss; think what it will be to you. “THINE eyes shall see the King in His beauty.” All earthly brightness fades and darkens as we gaze upon it, but here is a brightness which can never dim, a  glory which can never fade -- “I shall see God!”

I hope you have a lovely day.

I do beg your pardon for the amount of time elapsed since I last blogged. I really have very little in the way of excuses, except for one: the computer didn’t work. If the word “malware” means anything to you, I hope you understand and feel my pain. After multiple friends made efforts to help extract the dratted thing, a friend of a friend finally fixed it… Not only did he clear five viruses, he also reinstalled the system to be running at full capacity—something about 64 bit rather than the previous 32 bit. Anyway. When I went to blog the other day, I was shocked to find that Live Writer was no longer installed on the laptop…. Enter gaping mouth and vacant expression, followed by many attempts to track down and reinstall the binary file. After this, of course, come the windows popping up and saying things like “First, you must install this program” and “Do you have service pack 2 installed?” Somehow or another I managed all the application juggling, and, as you see, have retrieved Live Writer and am utilizing it to the best of my ability. It is entirely out of the question to consider going back to blogging within the browser again. Much too inconvenient. Too many times, I’ve finished several shining paragraphs of monologue, only to accidentally click some button and see the words “We’re sorry, something went wrong” appear.
Anyway. I am taking a short-ish sabbatical from the internet and blogging. By “short-ish”, what I mean is “hopefully two weeks.” If you need me, please call my cell phone.
*disclaimer* the sabbatical may last longer than two weeks. If that is so, then you may safely assume that I have done one or more of the following:
1. Moved into a cabin in the woods somewhere by myself. (this is the most hopeful scenario in my opinion)
2. Deleted my blog (this is the least likely)
3. Been kidnapped by pirates and held for ransom on a lonesome island. (perhaps unlikely… but very good novel research.)
4. Run out of creativity. (that’s one of the current issues)
5. Been too busy to make time. (less likely, but still an option)
See ya in two weeks. Maybe.