First Taste of Fantasy

     It's funny, but I just discovered that the title of my blog actually reflects my whole motif about longing for adventure with familiarity.  Tigers, representing the exotic and adventures...and tea, the coziness of familiarity and home and simple pleasures.  Like curling up in a soft chair with a cup of hot tea at your elbow and "The Silmarillion" on your lap....AHHH!  Well, I haven't finished that book yet.  My copy was too heavy to take with me to India, but I sped (as well as I could) so I could finish the tale of Beren and Luthien before I left.  Wow, seriously, that book is one of the best things I've ever read, and I haven't even finished it yet!  C.S. Lewis is probably my favorite author, but I have to admit that Tolkien is the master of fantasy.  I used to think no fantasy could ever top the Narnia series, but I'm afraid Tolkien's books do.  Not that Narnia is anything to sneeze at.  "May it never be!" as the apostle Paul would say.  *grin*  I love Narnia for itself...I just mean I think Tolkien's works are better as far as "fantasy" goes. 

   By the way, did I ever tell you that I read the first two Narnia books to Brownie and Bud while I was there?  Yeah...and I started with "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe."  Then I immediately began "Prince Caspian."  I don't really think it would be so bad if you started with, "The Magician's Nephew," but I had to consider my audience.  A seven and five year old...hmmmm. 

   It was a good thing I did, too.  "What's a wardrobe?"  "What's a professor?"  "Now who is Susan again?"  And that was the first book.  In the second book, I nearly tore my hair out trying to explain what was going on.  Not because they didn't just know, but because I was trying my hardest to help them understand, and nothing was working!  It was horrible!  And....have you ever tried to explain the treachery of the Lords Glozelle and Sopespian to a seven and five year old?  Oh.  My.  Gosh. 

   But, you know, that's okay!  Sure it was frustrating for me, but the whole idea was to give them their first taste of fantasy.  That was thrilling for me.  No, of course they couldn't understand it all; that wasn't the point.  If they understood some of it and liked it, then they'll want more as they get older, and they'll probably read the rest of them!  I remember my first taste of fantasy was when my father read those books aloud to us when we were little.  My brother cried when Aslan was killed, and I was devastated.  And yeah, in Prince Caspian, I didn't have a clue what was going on.  But what little I could understand, and the even fewer bits that stuck with me were beautiful.  Even if I couldn't understand, I just loved hearing my father read to us.  It was a special time.  Same with my mother.  I can't begin to count how many books my mother read aloud to us when we were kids.  She picked wonderful books.  She read us "Pollyanna," and "Anne of Green Gables," "Freckles," "Girl of the Limberlost," "Laddie," ( <3 )  the "Curdie" books, "The Five Children and It," "The Phoenix and the Carpet," and "A Little Princess," to name a few.  They both did different voices for different characters, and we all laughed and quoted them together.  All of us kids ended as bookworms, and all of us love fantasy.  Looking at the big picture, having a tough time explaining things is nothing in comparison with the chance of giving children their first taste of fantasy.
 
   I found out pretty quickly once I was there that fantasy was not D. or S.'s "thing."  I mean, they read fairytales to the children and had lots of storybooks...so nothing to be too concerned about....*grin*  D. told me that he was not read to as a child (.."oh, you poor deprived child!), and, as he said, "Fantasy has nothing to do with life, so...why?"  That's pretty much how S. feels too.  They are amazing godly people, and I guess what I get from fantasy they just get naturally from their Bibles; or, perhaps, they just don't need what I get from fantasy.  I don't know.  I can't really imagine being like that.  But they, especially S., wanted them to be introduced to Narnia. 

   I wish I could go on to explain how fantasy is truly relevant to our world, but I can't.  I didn't know how to explain it to them, and I still don't.  To me, as I've mentioned before, fantasy is more real than the world I see around me.  Fantasy helps me understand the world, and it gives me strength to face each battle.  While I love familiarity and comforts, I have a certain horror of normality.  By which I guess I mean monotony.  I don't want to just cruise through life.  I want my life to count for something.  I want to have adventures and make an impact on people's lives.  I may never step through a wardrobe or save a world, but to live your life for Christ is true greatness.

   Oh, and one more thing.  Tigers are also cool to me for two different reasons.  One is that the stuffed tiger shown behind my blog name is a special buddy of mine.  He's Purr, who I've mentioned before.  Several years ago, my sister and I "saved up our money," so we could buy a Pillow Pal.  (Remember those, 90's kids?)  Mother took us to the store, and the whole back wall had shelves full of Pillow Pals. 
  
   I marched confidently forward.  I had eleven whole dollars, and I knew just exactly what little friend I wanted.  Waves, the orca.  I scanned the shelves.  Then...there on the left just at my level was a pile of beautiful tigers.  I stared at them.  Tigers!  Reluctantly I drew my eyes away and continued looking for the Waves-es.  There they were, far out of my reach at the top.  I looked back at the tigers.  A tiger would be much nicer to cuddle than a whale.  I wavered; after all I had been sure I'd wanted Waves.  Would I regret it?  I opened one of the tiger's tags to see the name.  Purr.  Purr the tiger.  My heart melted, and doubt vanished.  I pulled the one that looked most appealing out of the pile, and I paid for him and went home proud as punch.  My sister had found the sweetest rabbit named Clover, but when I looked at Purr, I didn't envy her a bit.  I've never regretted it since.  Purr is my special buddy, and I (shhh, don't tell anyone) still sleep with him every night.

   Tigers are also special to me because my brother introduced me to Calvin and Hobbes before I could read.  We spent hours together poring over Calvin and Hobbes books.  He would read them to me and explain them if he could.  I would follow along by studying the pictures, and most of the time, I could tell who was saying what.  Lots of times we didn't understand the punch lines, and I couldn't understand every one he tried to explain.  But we had fun together, and so the tradition continued.  Once I learned to read, we'd take turns reading the different characters.  We got new books for Christmas and birthdays, and we devoured them together.  And of course, as we got older, we grew in our understanding, and would laugh ourselves sick in earnest.  I'm convinced that Calvin and Hobbes has got to be the greatest comic ever, and I loved how I had my own stuffed tiger just like Calvin did.  We screamed in laughter over the brilliant pictures and expressions, and of course we were quick to memorize whole pages.  But the real fun came when we were older and began to see connections between daily situations and Calvin and Hobbes comics.  We would think of the same one at precisely the same instant, and we'd look at each other and say the punch line, or just burst out laughing.  It drove our parents crazy sometimes, but to me it was the wonderfullest thing in the world.  Until the same thing started happening with all our siblings in all the movies, books, and tapes that we shared.  Everything had some connection, and each of us got it.  Three of us are adults now, and the other two are teenagers, but we still can get lost in our own language.  Having a family like mine is one of the greatest blessings that God gave me.

~Cadenza

Spring

   Well, my friends!  Spring is here!  I was about to say, "is coming," but all the Bradford Pear trees here are in full bloom, and the Saucer Magnolia trees are blooming, too.  Add to that, it's March, so in my mind, Spring is here! 

   It's so warm today.  The sunlight hurts my eyes if I let it into my room too strongly.  I think that says something about my indoorsy tendency.  Well, no matter.  I went tromping all in the woods behind my house yesterday, and enjoyed it immensly. 

   I'm afraid I can't write as Nice a tribute to Spring as well as I did for Winter.  Well, I'll try to make it Nice if I can. 

   The main holiday in Springtime is Easter, of course.  So if you're in a church choir, like me, then mid-January you're already rehearsing songs for Easter or Good Friday.  I came home in February, so I'm rather behind on all my music, but I am eagerly anticipating performing them all. 

   When I was younger, our family would visit our Dad's mother for Easter weekend.  She moved in with us a few years ago, so we don't do that anymore.  Every Spring brings back memories of those days.  She lived in a small town in a house that had lots of yard space.  I remember Daddy and my brother throwing a football around in the yard for hours.  Daddy taught all of us girls how to throw and catch a Foxtail.  I was fairly good at it myself.  But what I remember most is wandering around in the yard with my siblings on those long afternoons.  Sometimes we'd all play together and sometimes we'd each wander around quietly.  A train track ran across from the house, and whenever we heard a whistle, we'd come tearing around to the front to count the engines. 

   It's such an amazing thing.  When children play, they have no concept of time.  Time is their friend in the play-world.  You can fast forward time or rewind to fix something you'd done earlier.  And in a child's real world, time is real enough, but time doesn't dominate their universe.  The grownups are always telling you it's time to do something else, and you have to go along with it, but they are always sure of "next time."  Well, today we couldn't finish sinking that treasure ship before supper, but we'll do it tomorrow.  What I remember about those days at Grandmommy's house were the long afternoons that felt like eternity.  I recall the golden sunshine, the waving shadows from the enormous tree in the yard, the deep green grass, the blue sky, and the immense tranquility over everything.  Time was not.

   Now that I'm older, I don't get that sensation very often.  I suppose I feel it most in Spring and Summer.  And usually it happens when I'm remembering my childhood. 

   Each season is much the same as the last year it was here, but it never fails to be brand-new to me every time it comes.  The fragrance of the hyacinths, the budding and blooming of the trees, the return of color and sunshine never fail to transport me with their familiar novelty.  Of course we don't really know what Heaven and the New Earth will be like, but I'm convinced it will be a world where Familiarity and Novelty are reconciled at last.  Where Adventure and Freedom lives with Familiarity and Comfort.  And, of course, a world where time is no more.

   Each season promises me something that it never fully delivers on.  Springtime promises me undying youth.  Something in the smells and feel of Springtime makes me feel that I'll be young forever.   Of course, looking at it from a normal perspective I shouldn't believe it.  If I live long enough in this world, I will grow old and eventually die.  Of course a few scents on the wind can't stop that from happening, but Scripture does say that God has "placed eternity into men's hearts."  It makes us think about and long for eternal life in a perfect world where time is not.  I think it's part of God's general grace to men.  To me it does more than stir up longing.  It transports me with joy because I know that I'm headed to a place where all that will come true. 

   I wonder, can any Christian grow old on the inside if they are still rejoicing in their Salvation?  Yeah, life is sick sometimes, but this isn't all there is!  The reason we are not content in this world is because our Heavenly Father won't let us be!  He loves us too much to let us be content with the World and its toys.  He wants to give us the very best--Himself--and he won't let us dig our roots in too deep or invest all our treasure here. 

   One song to leave you guys with.  I love ThePianoGuys!  This song, "All of Me," is pure joy!  Enjoy!

 Take heart, fellow travelers!  And let Spring remind you of the New Eden that is coming to us! 

~Cadenza

Hear Ye, Cyberspace!

   I don't know how many people are still reading my blog, but for those of you who are, I have decided to keep writing and posting!! 

   I think the time has come to commit.  It's the only way I can commit myself enough to expect others to read my blog!  Okay, here goes...for now, I commit to a new post every week!!  

   Better post next time!

~Cadenza

  

Whimsicality

   What?  I don't know if that's a word. 

   Every time I start to write a post I feel this self-imposed responsibility that I should only share great profound thoughts.  I wish I didn't feel that way.  The truth is I'm not always profound. 

   Fact: Things going on here are 90% not profound.   It's certainly dramatic, and it's entertaining sometimes, and other times it's just tiring, but not always profound.  Well, you know what I mean.  Ask any mother you know.  It's the daily drama of who pushed who, who was on the stool first, constantly rounding up and herding children, the question of how many more bites of food one must partake of, and All That Sort of Thing.  You know what I mean. 

   Therefore, a lot of times I feel like there's nothing to report.  Nothing that isn't going on in countless other homes in the States, and there are all kinds of incredible mom's blogs to read if you want to read that.

   So, whimsicality post! 

   I'm learning that sometimes the best way to teach piano is to sit back and tell them that you're not going to help them unless they ask you.  It doesn't sound very nice, but I have one student (of the whole two of them) who suddenly gets serious when I say that.  Student suddenly begins to sit up straight, and count and play TOGETHER with such ease that I feel like kicking myself in my shins.  If I stand hovering and helping and correcting, Student fights me.  If Student feels like it is up to Student to make anything happen, suddenly he wants it to happen.  Stupid me!  Took me five months to figure that out!

   Last night I was out walking and it was warm and mild.  I did not need coat, hat, or scarf, so I left them in my room.  I ran and walked alternately, trying to let out some energy and clear my mind.  I was wound up emotionally, so I needed some fresh air to blow out all the unanswerable questions that were smothering me. 

   It was a lovely night.  It felt like a summer night.  Cool and starry, with a red crescent moon.  It's rather funny, but all the leaves are still on the trees here.  It's the dead of winter, but everything is still green and leafy.  I heard the wind making the trees whisper, and it thrilled me.  The shadows of them slid across the ground and the lamps shone through the trees in every direction.  I love the world at night.  You can believe anything in the night-time. 

   George MacDonald says:  "I have seen this world---only sometimes, just now and then, you know---look as strange as ever I saw Fairyland.  But I confess that I have not yet seen Fairyland at its best.  I am always going to see it so sometime."  That was exactly how I felt.  And as I walked, I thought more and more about my older brother, who knows more about Fairyland even then I do, and I longed to talk with him. 

   I don't have the time or the capabilities to explain what I mean by Fairyland.  In that case, maybe it would have been better if I hadn't brought it up at all.  First of all, by "Fairyland," I don't mean what you're probably imagining right now.  I don't mean Neverland, or some kind of Pixie Hollow thing, or anything else that most adults want their children to "grow out of," by a certain age.  For as long as I can remember, I was drawn to those kinds of stories and movies.  I thought it was because I wanted the object itself.  The truth was they drew me because I wanted something that they reminded me of, but that I didn't even understand.  And when I grew into Lewis and Tolkien and George MacDonald, I always felt that those worlds were, in a way, more real than the humdrum world I saw around me.  I suspected that our world was supposed to be the way it was in these kinds of stories, but it wasn't.  In other words, I desire more than this world and what it has to offer.  

   C.S. Lewis explains it so much better in his autobiography, "Surprised By Joy."  And the more I read of his different books, the more I begin to understand.  So if I say that I still love Fairyland, don't think of me as clinging to childish ways.  The Disney Princess movies only scratch the surface of the true Fairyland. 

   The thing that makes it all so real and so exciting is that I am beginning to see how,"the stories that really matter," are similar to the Great Story that we are all part of in this world.  I mean the Gospel.  I mean God's magnificent Design that makes all of us threads in His tapestry, as some have said before.  True Fantasy does not make the Bible seem boring in comparison.  It reminds me of the Bible's story, and helps me to see it as grander and more thrilling than I saw it before.  True Fantasy does not weaken me or waste my time in this world.  It builds me up and makes me stronger for every task I have to do.  And it keeps my ties to this world loose.  After all, I'm made for a different world.  By God's grace, I am destined to worship Him forever!! 

   When I was younger, I thought of Heaven as a city where every thing was gold.  Cold, heavy, yellow gold.  And I thought it was like an eternal worship service, where everything was always serious and quiet and boring.  What kid doesn't?  As I've grown to love Christ more, I trust that I'm beginning to look forward to where I can actually see my Redeemer face to face.  And the more I read of my Bible, the more I see of God's warm love to all of His children.  His mercy, and His promised favor.  And God actually invented fun and laughter and pleasure of every kind.  He filled His fallen world with pleasures that are good.  Heaven couldn't be a place where there was boredom or even all seriousness.  I like what C.S. Lewis writes about it in "The Screwtape Letters:"

   "He [God] is a hedonist at heart.  All those fasts and vigils and stakes and crosses are only a facade.  Or like foam on the sea shore.  Out at sea, out in His sea, there is pleasure, and more pleasure.  He makes no secret of it; at His right hand are 'pleasures for evermore'....He's vulgar, Wormwood.  He has a bourgeois mind.  He has filled His world full of pleasures.  There are things for humans to do all day long without His minding in the least---sleeping, washing, eating, drinking, making love, playing, praying, working.  Everything has to be twisted before it's any use to us.  We fight under cruel disadvantages." 

   Yes, they do!  Thank the Lord, the powers of darkness do fight under cruel disadvantages!  The great thing is they aren't going to win in the end.  I can't wait for that to happen!

   Till next time then! 

~Cadenza

Peppermint Chai Christmas Eve

   I wish that I had all these posts about Christmas and getting ready for Christmas, but I don't.   The "Innernet," as D. and I call it has been touch and go for the last few weeks.  Sometimes even if it reads five bars it takes ten minutes to log in (and stay in!) and I don't usually have that long!  Brownie and Bud are still doing school and they don't want to focus (can you really blame them?) and BuggaBoo has learned how to crawl, and it takes not only two eyes to watch her constantly, but a whole person to keep her where she needs to be and to make sure she doesn't touch, eat, or throw up on anything she's not supposed to.  It's been a bit..um..demanding.  SO!  That's my story.  I'm stickin' to it. 

   Well, enough chit-chat.  Let's get down to business.  We decorated our tree a few weeks ago, and it's lovely.  It even has a strand of dancing/flashing lights on it!!!  Woo-hoo!  For as far back as I can remember, my family has had a strand of dancing lights to put on the tree, or last year, on the garland.  One of the coziest things for me at Christmas time is to just sit and watch them.  They mesmorize me.  Personally I hate how every tree you can buy in the States is pre-lit.  I mean, seriously?  Part of the fun of getting out the tree is watching and helping Dad struggle with untangling and testing the lights.  Then you get to put them on together as a family.  It's a team effort, and it's so rewarding!  Pre-lit trees are the pits.  You plug them in--ding!  All the lights are on, and they're just...on.  No flashing, no dancing, no slow fade.  Entirely without character.  Or personality.

   How in the world did I get onto that tangent?  Haha!  I don't feel strongly about it or anything!  Ahem, right.  Moving on.  I just finished wrapping my little presents for the family.  It's not much, really...if we had big stores and shopping malls nearby I would just love to run out and buy everyone lots of super nice things, but...we don't.  *Sigh*  I know Christmas isn't about presents, but I sure would love to just give crazily and wildly and watch their faces in the morning!  Jesus was right when He said it was more blessed to give than to recieve.

   It's getting so cold!  Jack Frost waited until December 21st to come this year!  But now that he's here, he is definitely here to stay!  I'm dressed in layers, and I'm wearing my hat in the house! 
   I am surrounded by poverty here in India.  So many people around me are cold, and they can't get warm.  I think of the village women here in their mud homes.  They're cold all the time, and their children are cold all the time.  They take cold baths outdoors, since they have no way to heat water.  They can't bundle up, or eat or drink something hot, or snuggle under wool blankets at night.  I can't imagine what it's like for the mothers to put all the clothes on their children and know that they are still cold.  I can't imagine feeling cold and hungry all the time, but that is their life in the wintertime.  It makes me look at all the things I have and think, "I live like a queen.  I have everything I could possibly need and so much more!" 

   I asked S. yesterday how she didn't get depressed with seeing all the need around her.  Obviously, you want to just rush to help everyone...but you can't.  You really can't.  So what do you do? 
   She thought for a moment, and she said, "Well, you cannot help everyone.  But you can't let yourself get cynical and think, 'Well, if I can't help everyone I won't help anyone!' "  She said, "You just look for the people around you and think, 'This person has a need.  What can I do to help meet it?'  And keep an open hand and an open heart.  All this stuff that I have isn't really mine at all.  I'm a steward.  It isn't mine to keep.  What can I give of it to bless someone else?' "
  
   Simple truth. Again, not easy, simple.  There is no easy answer to a question like that.  But I think the idea is to have an attitude of service, and a open heart who is willing to share.  Then I think God will guide us through the circumstances and specifics.  That is what I hope He will do for me--for the rest of my life! 

   This last week before Christmas I've really been missing my family.  I catch myself thinking about them all the time.  I keep wanting to say things to them, and feeling frustrated that a finicky computer is my only way to check up on them.  This is my first Christmas away from my family.  I've always known Christmas to be a time when many people feel torn between loved ones and friends, but this is my first time to really feel that way.  I love you, my family!  I miss you all! 

   I'm craving peppermint.  Each morning I think, "I sure would love a cup of sweet hot peppermint tea!"  But get this:  I wish I had some candy canes. 

*GASP*

   When I was little, every year I ended up getting candy canes right before Christmas.  You know, from Sunday School teachers and random people at church; that kind of thing.  I always felt a little exasperated at that because I didn't really like them that much.  They took so long to eat, too!  And I knew that for the next whole year when I looked into my can of where I kept my stash of candy I would find broken candy cane bits when I was craving chocolate...tragic.  But now I would like some candy canes.   I could grind them up and put them into my chai each morning.  Peppermint sounds wonderful right about now, even if it isn't chocolate. 

   I'm excited about tomorrow.  Not the way the children are.  I don't care what I get for Christmas.  I'm excited to give my little gifts to people.  I hope they like them.  They aren't much, but they're from my heart. 

   Isn't it wonderful?  God gave His very best for us.  His Son.  He didn't hold Him back when He had every right to.  And Jesus volunteered to come to earth---to pay for our wickedness and rebellion against Himself.  Scripture says He did not "count equality with God a thing to be grasped."

   What?

   He was God, and He had a perfect, joyus relationship with His Father, and with the Holy Spirit.  And yet He chose to come to earth as a servant...and as a ransom?  To pay for ungrateful, selfish people like us?  He wanted to bring us into a restored relationship with Himself and with His Father.  He loves us that much.  He gave His life, and then He rose up again and will one day return as King over all.  He promised that anyone who came to Him and asked for mercy because of His atonement could be His child, and that He would save them from His coming anger and judgement of sin.  He has made me His daughter.  How could I do any less than pour out my life for Him, since He held nothing back for me? 

   Seeing poverty here in my face reminded me that Jesus was born into poverty.  He wasn't born in a palace with servants all around.  It was humbling enough for Jesus the Prince of Heaven to come as a helpless, toothless, crying baby.  But He was born into poverty, into shame, into hardship.  He came giving a blessing wherever He went, and people rejected Him and eventually got so enraged against Him that they howled for His blood.  Why did He choose that?  For love.  Love for rebels and unkind, ungrateful people like me and you.  The Prince of Heaven became poor.  That fills me with awe.  And with gratitude.  If Christ loves me like that than why am I afraid of anything in this life? 

   He loves you like that.  If you don't know Him, than please pray to Him and ask Him to forgive you because of His sacrifice.  He will if you ask Him!! 

   Sooo.  Hope this post hasn't been too cliche.  That's what's on my heart.  Here's a song I'd like to share with you.  "Peppermint Winter," by Owl City. 

           Merry Christmas to you all! :D

~Cadenza 

Winter

  It seems to me that Winter has been given a smear by the general public.  I can't give you real proof of that idea; it just seems that way to me.  In the poems and songs, usually Spring and Summer are extolled.

  "The flowers that bloom in the spring--tra-la!
    Bring promise of merry sunshine!
    As we merrily dance and we sing--tra-la!
    We welcome the hope that they bring--tra-la!
    Of a summer of roses and wine,
    Oh, a summer of roses of wine..."

   (I did NOT make that up, in case you were wondering!!)  Anyway, you know what I mean.  Spring is always a good time in the stories, and Summer is usually even better.  Now Autumn is generally thought pretty good.  Sometimes you come across "a golden autumn," in the stories.  Everyone loves pictures of the trees when they turn their magnificent colors.  Autumn is my favorite season of all.  Living where I do, I have never really seen an Autumn in its full glory, but every year I love it when it comes.  The crisp coolness that comes in the air seems to make everything inside me jump to life again.  The leaves as they begin to turn their own special colors thrills me, and ohhh, the smell of a wood in Autumn--!  Have you ever taken the time to notice that particular smell of the leaves, combined with the chilly air at Autumn?  I love everything about Autumn.  The cooler air, the falling leaves, the smells, the acorns, the appearance of jackets and winter clothes again...I love it all.  To me it seems like rebirth and a time of rejuvination.  The whole earth seems to be getting excited and busy and happy, and it fires through my veins until I just have to become part of it all, or I'll burst! 

   So, that's spring, summer, autumn, and now winter.  Of course everyone loves Christmas, but after December, it seems that people are immediately tired of cold weather.  Most everyone I talk to is so "tired of this dreary weather," or it "depresses them."

   Now I'm not trying to be irate or anything here.  To each his own.  Some people just don't like cold weather.  I understand that.  I don't like hot weather that much.  I just find it interesting that people love Christmas and its season and then immediately want the warmth of spring again.

   Further note, I know what it's like to get sick of Winter.  I remember my senior year of high school after Christmas, I could hardly bear to look out the window.  I was so stressed, so worried about everything, and so hopelessly busy that when I looked out at the wet brown grass, the naked branches of trees, and the steely gray sky, all I felt was fear.  I couldn't stand it.  It reflected what I felt inside instead of helping me feel better.

   But may I just offer you a new perspective of Winter?

   Winter is the frosty air, and the keen winds that nip your cheeks and nose when you step outside.  I love that, as long as I'm bundled up well enough.  I love the sting of the wind in my face, because of the way it makes my blood dance in my veins.  I'm alive, and I know it.  I feel alive, to the very core of my being.  I love to run in that wind.  It makes me feel adventurous, like some wild thing.  I want to run with the wind, to feel that I am a part of the wind instead of fighting against it.  Sometimes I feel if I could only run fast enough, the wind would bear me up and sweep me far away.
  
   Let's look around, shall we?  The gray sky.  The vast gray sky with no boundaries.  It's a sky under which anything could happen.  Look at the black branches of the trees sillhouetted against it.  For a moment, just forget all prejudices you have against that, and just look at the beauty of it.  The sharp angles, the clear-cut angles, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope.  Watch them waving in the whistling wind.  Do you feel the excitement?  Even the trees seem restless.  It's as if everything is inviting you into some great adventure. 

   Have you ever been walking through the woods on a winter day?  Have you ever taken time to notice the wildness of everything?  The outdoor world is still not tamed, and I'm glad it isn't.  Winter reminds you of that.  You see the bare bones of nature, and they are strong and unafraid.  Now, imagine that instead of being frightened of that, you go out into it as a friend, wanting to be a part of it all.  Appreciate the hardness of nature in Winter as well as its gracious invitation in Springtime.  Nature cannot really teach you any specific lessons, but being out in it is refreshing to the mind and the soul.  I love the beauty of Winter, even without the lovely snow, because I love the feeling of adventure and excitement.

   Have you been outside on a Winter's night anytime recently?  I envy people who live up North who can see the Aurora Borealis from their own backyards.  One day I want to see those lights myself.  But go outside as dusk is falling.  I'm always amazed at how such angular, bony branches can cast such long, soft shadows at dusk.  Dusk is my favorite part of the day.  When the sun and moon are in the sky together, and light and darkness mingle together.  Dusk is about harmony, and I love that part of the day most.  Everything is peaceful at Dusk, and I love the colors of a sunset.  In Winter, the twilight hour is cold, but still gracious and soft, in its own way.  And when the sun sets and the stars come out--!  I can never feast my eyes enough on the frosty stars that shine out so clearly in the Winter.  I love to see stars peeping through the bare branches of trees.  Do you take the time to notice the stars?  Never be in such a hurry that you don't have time to notice the stars at night. 

   Where I live, we don't get a lot of snow in the winter time, but when we do, I am always spellbound when I watch it fall.  I love to admire the shadows on the snow, or the moonlight reflected on it.  I don't get to see that very often, so it's extra special when I do get to see it.  Or seeing the woods behind my house transformed when the snow falls.  But of course, there are songs about enjoying the world when there is snow on the ground. 

   If I had some kind of condition and the doctor told me I would have only one Christmas left, do you know what I'd want to do?  After our church's Christmas Cantata which always falls on the second Sunday of December, I would have our family pack up and rent a cabin somewhere further up north.  Perhaps in Colorado.  Just somewhere remote and really comfy and spacious and--country.  I would want an old-fashioned Christmas, with cutting down a tree from the woods nearby.  Some days we'd go skiing, some nights we'd go on real sleigh rides, and every day we'd play in the snow and explore the woods and take long walks, and go sledding, and go ice-skate together on a huge frozen pond.  Some nights we'd drive far away and go carolling all around.  Maybe we'd even drive to a big city and admire the lights and decorations and go shopping.  We'd all cook delicious food and tons of desserts together and we'd all help with the work.  Every night we'd sing Christmas carols around the fire and tell funny stories until our stomaches hurt.  And we would all be merry and childlike and content.  And Christmas morning we'd maybe have some gifts for eachother.  That would be nice, but Christmas isn't about presents.  That's what I would love to do if I knew I had one Christmas left on earth. 

   Okay, that's not where I expected this post to go, but I hoped you enjoyed it.  Till next time, then!

~Cadenza 





 

The Hard Truth

   Okay, people.  I can't believe I've been here for nearly three months and only have 9 posts to show for it.  I am officially kissing my expectations for every post to be pristine goodbye.  I simply don't have time to fuss for weeks over a post.  Posts must be short and plentiful, and then when I get more time, I can make 'em look professional.  As it is, there's lots I want to say, and I never make time to say it because I'm so overwhelmed by my ideas of what each post should look like.  So.  Now you know. 

   I always thought that once I was a mother I would be this cheery, fun-loving, amazing woman who filled her house with sunshine and laughter.  I just knew I would be THAT woman who could always keep her sense of humor, even when things were going haywire.  In my vanity, I pictured myself as this girlish, pretty young wife with two or three kids around her, dancing and singing in the kitchen and laughing at everything those young innocents said.  And I thought that surely other ladies who got a glimpse into my life would wonder how I could be so happy and sunshiny all the time.

   Rude awakening.

   Yesterday I slumped.  Badly.  I mean, I was a positive grouch.  I couldn't figure out why I felt so nasty, but every little thing was irritating me.  I wanted to go verbal with my complainings, but I didn't, since it isn't my house and the kids aren't my kids.  So I just got very quiet.  I didn't laugh, I didn't talk, I just kept my mouth tight shut.
  
   I tried to figure out what made me feel so contrary.  I'd been up late the night before, but I'm a night-owl; that doesn't bother me.  The water that had arrived at my door had been hot.  It wasn't that time of month.  The kids were just being kids, nothing they were doing was particularly wrong.  I just felt tired of everything, upset at everyone, and I was eating and eating anything I could lay my hands on.  Was I missing my family?  I had to be honest and admit "No, not at the moment."  What was making me feel so angry and resentful?  It wasn't like a Sneaky Hate Spiral, when something goes wrong at the beginning of the day and lots of little annoyances pile up until you go hysterically crazy mad.  (If you are curious about Sneaky Hate Spirals, click on this link and read the story:  http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.in/2010/05/sneaky-hate-spiral.html  ) 

   Eventually I had to come to grips with it.  The hard truth is I am not the nice, joyful person I thought I was.  Considering my circumstances, the only fitting diagnosis was my pride, and my sin nature.  I was being so disagreeable and cross for no reason at all.  My pride must've felt that the world wasn't treating me nicely enough.  Yeah.  When what I deserve is so much worse than I can even imagine.

   I tend to be so caught up in my different circumstances here that I don't feel grouchy.  I'm tickled to be serving when I feel that I can choose to serve, and where there is no guilt or rebukes lurking around the corners.  It's great to be around such amazing kids on a day to day basis, especially since I'm old enough now to understand their behavior through both their eyes and an adult's eyes.  It's fun and challenging to cook from scratch, and I love playing with Bugga Boo.  I love having my own little house to sit and just think in...I love walking to it under the night sky (and Orion, that hangs over the chapel) and setting up my computer with its speakers to play music, and lighting the little scented candle that sits in the corner.  I love eating snacks and poring over "The Two Towers," late into the night, or journaling on the bed until I can't hold my eyes open.  At home I'd been bored and restless.  Here every day I'm working hard and serving with my whole heart, and everyone appreciates and affirms me and seems to enjoy my quirks.  No one tells me to stop singing or gives me a rebuke when I laugh out loud over something funny.  Yet with all this, I was being spiteful and arrogant.  Why?

   It's my sin.  My pride.  I thought I was this amazing person, but when a few little circumstances prick me, my little bubble is burst and my pride goes hot.  How dare those children keep chattering after I told them to settle down?  How dare they criticize this food that I've worked an hour to prepare from scratch?  They're just kids---they've never cooked, they don't know how hard it can be.  To them it's perfectly fair to be upset that I didn't remember that they don't like peas and carrots.  Why does it matter to me?  Why do I get my feelings hurt over something as ridiculous as that?  It's my sin.

   Thank God above that there is forgiveness for my sins.  Because really, me in my sins is just like an annoying, immature child to my Heavenly Father.  Suddenly I felt sad that I was wishing the kids were getting spanked for each little thing.  What if God punished me--as His child--for every single bitter thought or selfish deed I did each day?  Of course, God doesn't work like that.  He sent His Son to bear my punishment.  And now His wrath towards sinners has been absorbed by Christ as He hung on the cross and said, "It is finished."  Jesus is alive today, and He gives grace and mercy when I don't deserve it.  What hope would I have if He treated me as I deserved each day?  I thanked Him for that in my heart. 

   This morning, some people may say that I woke up on the right side of the bed, but I know better.  God gives grace and mercy, and I was a more grateful person today when I started serving with my whole heart, and counting my blessings instead of focusing on myself. 

   Another short post coming later...thanks for reading! 

~Cadenza