Value.

"If you feel your value lies in being merely decorative I fear that some day you might find yourself believing that is all you really are. Time erodes all such beauty, but what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of your mind, your humor, your kindness and your moral courage; these are the things I cherish so in you."
                                          
   -Marme speaking to Meg in Gillian Armstrong's adaptation of Little Women (2000).

Fiction.

"The beauty of relationships, creation and many of the ordinary aspects of life can easily be overlooked unless your eye is trained to see beneath the first layer."
                                                   -Aaron Stern

Read the rest here: http://aaronstern.typepad.com/aaron_sterns_blog/2010/12/why-read-fiction.html

Remembering the Stolen

Slavery is one of the fastest growing business ventures in the modern era.  After reading an article about twelve years ago in a well-known magazine I found the facts strange; people were actually being bought and sold like cattle? People were being forced into prostitution, pornography and to work in erotic massage parlous? The startling article caused much debate in my ring of friends, people thought this was a conspiracy and these people wanted this lifestyle. There obviously must be a way to free these innocents, and actually show the reality of this evil, but how? Some marketing breakthroughs in the non-profit sector are revolutionizing the way solutions to this problem are approached.

Today the abolishment movement is in full swing. Well, should we say at least it has become a movement? There is massive push back as the realties of this atrocity are to unpalatable for the average American to question. This is something that is very real, it is happening and we need to face it, so to put an end to it, but first we have to understand it.

Modern slavery is a quickly growing enterprise. The Polaris Project is one of the chief organizations fighting against Human Trafficking. They define this abuse as such: “Human trafficking is the modern day practice of slavery. Also known as trafficking in persons, human trafficking comprises the fastest growing criminal industry in the world, based on the recruitment, harboring, and transportation of people solely for the purpose of exploitation”. They are actively pursuing to abolish this type of slavery and have been since 2002.

Currently the average American is a consumer. Not only do people have full control over what TV shows they watch with the introduction of recorded TV, but also with social networking the ability to filter what you see has taken over. RSS feeders capture a massive amount of information, but only if you subscribe to the feed do you get wind of the information. The urge for people to cut out bad or negative information has reached an all time high in this post 9/11 world. This poses a problem for organization such as the Polaris Project to inform the masses. Basically if people do not want to hear the negative they are easily able to filter it out.

The need for information to adapt to the virtual reality that has become America is on the forefront of the abolishment movement. In the past the mindset of the social justice movement has been one of shock and awe. This type of marketing brings publicity, but has a very negative effect on the overall integrity of a corporation. A very cautious line has become the balancing act of these organizations ability to communicate a need. An impasse has been met: how do you speak about devastation and ruin to a people who don’t want to hear or feel it? How do you create a market for hurting people and sell it, to an overinflated America? The answer may be found in shoes.

In 2006 Blake Mycoskie started a company called TOMS shoes, initiating the One-for-One movement, “with every pair you purchase, TOMS will give a pair of new shoes to a child in need”. Blake understood the need, shoes, and saw a direct application to the issue. Give consumers something to buy, and also give them the opportunity to learn about the movement. Instead of trying to get people to give money to a fund, also give them something to buy into. When there is a tangible item that they have as a reminder they are more likely to care about any issue.

Social justice movements across the board are starting to crack into the tight fist of consumerism. One such organization is carving into the monster that is slavery one purse, scarf and wallet at a time. In-His-Steps International has started an outreach to young girls who have been sold into slavery. Sak Saum, the Khmer word for dignity and also the face of their organization reaching out to girls in need of restoration, is a based in Cambodia. Cambodia is a harsh place to be born, as a female slavery is illegal, but thriving here. There are unspeakable things being done to all different types of people here. Sak Saum provides young women who have been able to get out a safe haven; they are taught “education and vocational training, job skills and development, counseling based on Christian principles, health and nutrition education, future enterprise opportunities”.

In-His-Steps International has a comprehensive approach to helping young men and women:

We recognize that treating the symptoms of poverty is not enough: true compassion ministers to the needs of the individual. Our mission is to restore lives in every way – physically, mentally, emotionally, economically, spiritually and socially. Each woman who enters the Sak Saum program is offered unconditional love and the resources she needs to become independent and successful.

Part of the rehabilitation they take part in is learning how to sew. These young women are given a skill that will support them after they leave the program. Taking after the “One-For-One” model they are selling the final product with proceeds going straight into the ministry. The attention to detail they have is exquisite; the product when finished is shipped to America to be sold at house parties, conferences, and is also available online.

Buy a purse; help free a girl in slavery. The implications of this type of social impact are moving quickly through the world. This is changing how people decide on what they are spending their money on. Where does every penny toward this necklace go? By buying from a certain company am I actually promoting slavery? This type of marketing is creating a real solution, to real problems. It gives people a good feeling when they purchase a product, and actually helps those in need.

TOMS shoes just reported their shoe drop campaign to have reached the one million mark. Sak Saum just recently celebrated the life of a new baby born to a recovering mother, who has finally found her dignity. With purpose and intention these organizations are effecting change. There is a new direction that the fight for social justice is taking on.

 There can be nothing worse than a heart so broken it cannot weep. There is no feeling so low as the abyss of loneliness. There is no cut so deep as the wound of sexual abuse. For millions in the world we live in, this is a part of day-to-day life. They are not the orphans or the widows, they are not the lost; they are the stolen. They could be anyone; they could be your neighbor or the little girl next door. “They” are modern slaves. This atrocity is also known as Human Trafficking and it is closer to you than you may want to believe. This atrocity must stop.

Some links that will inform:

www.ihsionline.org/saksaum/

www.polarisproject.org

www.ijm.org

www.love146.org

www.notforsalecampaign.org

www.humantraffickingclinic.org

IF YOU SEE SOMETHING SUSPICIOUS PLEASE REPORT IT! This is not simply a foreign issue. People are being trafficked right before your very eyes. If you see something please do your part. Call the police or 1(866)455-5075 This is the Colorado Network to End Human Trafficking (CoNEHT). www.coloradocrimevictims.org/human_trafficking.html

Buy fair trade! Every dollar spent is like a small rudder on a vast ship that will effect the direction of consumerism. You could be choosing to support slavery with your pennies. Check out www.Free2Work.org for more information on how to spend for freedom. 

Boxes Come in all Shapes and Sizes

Stop trying to think outside of the box, for by doing so you are inserting yourself squarely inside someone else’s. Maybe it is time to embrace your own box. Love it, live it and for once become an expert at something. What would happen if you became excellent at that one thing? What would the world look like if you worked with others who were excellent components of a huge structure of full boxes? How would you be living today differently if you were preparing for this team? You have talents, use them don’t run from them. You have a vision - nurture it! You have a destiny, stop trying to live mine. I see a future where drafting a team of experts will change the world, are you ready? What a vision! But this is not a foreign idea, this is the Church. Are you engaged? Are you willing? Time is on the move and before you think twice all you will notice is the sound it makes as it passes you by, or worse the taunts you hear from yesteryear. Step up, and be simply who you were made to be. Engage with others who are doing the same, community will never be so sweet.

The City Sparkles Tonight

It has been awhile.

I think I say that often…more often than I should in fact.

So without further ado, a blog post.

I wish I could make each one of these worthy of printing, but I feel that the stage is already set for a bit more of a rambling venue, so ramble on I shall.

This is my most favorite time of year. I ever so enjoy the general display of holiday cheer. I love the way the temperature fluctuates from a sticky hot 70 to a breath stealing near zero chill. There is something about the attitude of the people around me, be it the lady who flipped me off because I tried to pass her when she was going 15 under the speed limit, to the over zealous “Black-Friday” shoppers that will literally kill to get their deals or those lovelies who are singing Christmas carols as the little kiddos ring their buzzers for some Halloween candy. I love the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg, cloves and the taste of eggnog and pumpkin. Darling outfits coupled with layers and layers of beautifully stitched sweaters and stockings, fuzzy warm jackets, balanced of course with leggings and legwarmers. I love the boots and the gloves, hats, mittens, scarves and other bits of winter gear that keep me toasty during my hour long commute in the frigid mornings. I love the way the frost bites the tree trunks before the sun comes out to melt it away. I love the crunching sound that the snow makes under foot as I walk my path. There is so much to love, but the most treasured thing about my own holiday experience, are the lights. I went to the grocery store after dark the other night, just so I could enjoy the way the lights dance off of one another.

It is magical.

Watching the twinkles and the sparkles brings a deep stirring in my heart. This stirring and movement is often further away than I would like to admit and it is sometimes so soft that I barely see it. This ebb and flow of my soul haunts me. It causes deep introspection and will always cause a spiritual stutter in my day. It is my affections being stirred by my Lover. You see I am learning so very much as I am re-entering into a sober society. My heart is a minefield of idols. Things that seem trifling, but upon a second glance are rather rooted in my life. Swaying my life like a little rudder on a ship. I have so many things that steal my time, my love, my romance, my purity and my livelihood. The one that sits most proudly and claims the largest landmass of my heart, is me. I am my own worst nightmare. The desires of my soul have misdirected my attention, my time, my finances and even my love. There is a simple slur to the beat of my heart at all times. I am so broken, and in this I am limiting the very nature of God in my own life. As I try to differentiate the between necessity, need and want I see that I will often replace a necessity with a want. Let me spell it out for you. I would rather clothe my body, which will fade away than feed my soul that is eternal. I would rather do my makeup in the morning than eat breakfast. I would rather sleep in than carve out time to pray or read my bible. Sadly this is not the end of it. I keep my money tight against those in need, but am quick to justify a needless or mindless purchase. I would rather pine for a physical lover that may never be, than to realize the One who is right before me. Oh selfish and brutal heart how you betray me. What evil you are capable of, how quickly I can fall for you!

Ah, but all is not lost.

And this dear friends is the True sparkle in the darkness. We are saved. We are not lost, “all we like sheep have gone astray” - but He has come to save us. The lights strung out in front of houses are a reminder of the shooting star that brought three wandering kings to the foot of the King of Kings, about two thousand years ago. A tiny baby born to bear the flesh we are burdened with, born as man, yet fully God, to redeem our hopeless state. What a difference this moment is, my evil heart was purchased, these chains are no longer mine to carry, these idols are no longer mine to battle. This heart in all its shabbiness is His and He has already won. So as I purvey the landscape of my soul, I see places that seem dark and doubtful, but I know that that excavation is not mine to begin, nor mine to worry over. My heart is mastered by a beautiful Love that has already won.

The Perfect Fit

Anyone remember the melodic intuition post a bit ago? It was a rambling on music, it was also a revelation on community. I found that I have an issue singing the melody and need others around me to sing it so I can fit with them in harmony. So that I can be a better me, so they can be a better them. 

Today at church I realized that this body of believers needs me. Everyone there sings melody. I fit. Perfectly. I have never had this feeling at a church or in a group of people, ever. I have always felt that everyone around me was fumbling to fit in, or to fit out. Either way no one has truly needed me. I have surrounded myself with people who do not need me as I do them. They have community, they have ministry and they have others who complete their melodies better than I can.

I am learning that I need people, community, church, friends, who need me. People who do not feel sorry for me, but people who actually sound better when I am with them. In music if you fit the wrong people together in an ensemble you will get a terrible, horrid sound. It is not that the folks are bad singers; it is that they sound brash together. There is a sweet spot of musical interlocking; when you put two people who can anticipate each others movement, strength and weakness, there will ear candy abound.

I have found my sweet spot. I have found a community of people whose heart beat like my own. I can make them sound better than if they were singing in solo. This I feel is what church might actually be. It’s a nestling. It’s a convergence. It’s a perfectly anticipated duet. This, my friends is beautiful thing: I belong.

Musical Musings

Today I am in am musical mindset.

The heartsrings I have similar to a guitar and can be played melodically.

So today, I needed to move. To feel. To remember my Heart.

I found two things I felt worth sharing.

One: a blog post from a person I do not know...

 

A Recording of Haley

No. This is not about the red-haired singer of Paramore. Pardon the crappy side sounds. Me and my brother discovered a software called Garage Band. Recording is great using this software.

Its discovery was like the discovery of fire by Homo Habilis.

 

 

(download)

 

Haley cover. A Needtobreathe original.

 

My wish for anyone who will have the courage to hear this song is not "hope you like it" but "hope you don't roll in laughter."

 

Here is another recording.

 

(download)
Something Beautiful cover. A Needtobreathe original.

If you want to see more from Mr. Garcia, here is his blog: http://dabidgarsya.posterous.com/

                                  _______________________________________________________________________

Two: A video from a band (Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero's)  that I know nothing about, but also find tremendous!

Find more great music here:  www.blogotheque.net

My heart is once again happy and content. Isn't it strange how music can help you see the world in a different way? 

WorkFlowy - Organize your brain.

via workflowy.com

Think outside your mumbled brain. This is a tremendous tool! Pretty sure I will be using this for EVERYTHING. Ah, simple, convenient, organized state of being here I come! Time to put my feet up. :)

A Quandary of Sorts.

Every decision you have made has been created by two things: 1) Your past experience, and 2) your knowledge of the choice to be made. When you make a decision it is based on reactions you have had to similar situations in the past. Our brains are very unique and engage differently than we might expect them to. We usually only remember a positive reaction, but if a negative reaction is implanted into our cognitive reality it will derail even the simplest of choices. The past, mainly the past we do not want to face, is a major factor in the process we use to decide right or left, yes or no, right or wrong.

The other side of this coin, is the ability we have to accept new information. When you look at a new menu, how quickly you can process the massive amount of choices you face, determines how simple this decision becomes. Most of us cannot take it all in, so the decision rests squarely on the shoulders of what we know. "I know I like chicken, it is not often that I do not like a chicken dish, therefore I will have chicken".

Interestingly enough, we live in a constant state of reaction. Distinction comes at points in our lives when strategic action replaces reactive reasoning. Think about this: if I meet a homeless gentleman who asks me for money and I react to his need with a dollar, this response does not affect this man's state of being, but only a momentary blip in his life. If on the other hand I am strategizing in ways to enter into his life with a question of change then the reactive duty lies in his court and he must make a shift.

My quandary lies here; if the obvious change happens in the moments of active planning then why do we live in a state of reaction? We are all capable of ingenious ideas, or know of others who have ideas that can effect change, yet we choose to react. Why?

The better route seems obvious, so why not take it? Why not face the past that will sway our choice with bias? Why not execute the ideas we have that may change the world? Why not try the steak even though you know you like chicken? Why not? What is keeping us from living to the fullest potential we were made for? This dear friends is a deep question, one I hope you will wrestle with as I am. Maybe together we can, and will, change the world.

Simply Delicious

If I was an artist I would paint fall and never tire of it.
If I was a photographer I would show you what I see.
If I was a poet I would place in immortal prose the magic in these moments.

This season literally takes my breath away.
The color combinations are thrilling. I saw a wisp of creamy lemon leaves hanging on a trunk of dark grey and charcoal today. If I had a nursery I would paint it so. The two red trees in the midst of Acacia park are etherial. I have never seen such shades of burnt ambers and ocher's, mixed with auburn and brick red. Stunning in the truest definition of the word.

I walk on my daily journey to and from bus stops in a state of literal exhilaration over the decay that dazzles my optical receptors. There is a fox that meets me on this journey. He lives in a cul-de-sac and it is as if he knows when I am coming. His red coat pops as the background behind him is turning a phenomenal shade of yellow. He stares at me as if I am just as strange as I find him. I attempt to take in his cunning and mesmerizing state of being. This quiet stolen moment we have in the morning is filled with expectation and respect.

My current guilty pleasure is smunching, crunching and whisking piles of leaves as I walk. There is an exhilaration that builds inside as I briskly pass through the dropped and forgotten death, that days ago were adorning the tree above them. It causes a remembrance of being a child, and as such the little one inside me breaks free for a short time before I must lock her away for the very respectable job that I have.

Oh joy.
Freedom.
Smunching.
Eclectic display of the Glory of God.
I think I was made for this day.
I am alive in a way that I cannot describe.
I feel overpowered by awe and delight.

Simply delicious.

death is intricate

...see?

detail beyond belief.

even the act of dying is beautiful and momentous.

a little reminder to enjoy every moment. :)

A Glimpse of Something Treasured

Do you remember dreaming? You know in class when you were eight, that daydream that caught you by surprise when you finally found something that you actually enjoyed learning? Do you remember following that idea to the happy place where the dream became reality and you grew up to love what you did? Do you remember that thought, an idea that sent tingles down your spine, causing your “playing house” to morph into playing doctor or lawyer or baker? What was that one moment when the world just fit; everything fell into place and you felt you for the first time in your life?

What was that dream?

Why did you let it go?

For me it was too good to be true. That captured thought would not be tamed, and even if it could be there is always an evil lurking in the corner. I felt that if I tried to do what I loved it would somehow break and that I would somehow cause the break.

I remember the dream. It is still tantalizing, it still sends tingles to my spine. Today I am no longer afraid of doing what I love. I am no longer going to shy away from what feels right. I will not let the possibility of a broken thing affront my hope of a better thing.

For it is always true that the story will only get better, as the storm passes through. The stories must be written, truth must be shared, and my own vision must be revealed.

The time has come to remove the veil, for I have found my dream.

Relief

Today I feel planted. I feel like a tender seedling that has been growing in an itty-bitty seed pot, for the last 27 years of my life. Today I feel that I have been put in the ground. I can feel my roots already reaching for richer soil. This is strange being able to move differently, but it feels so good. It feels right.

Today I feel lighter. I feel like pet bird. A bird that has received so much love, but a bird that has been locked in a cage. Today I found the open window, and I am flying high. Soaring above the buildings, living as I was intended to.

Today I feel loved. The tremendous help I had drawing me towards this momentous event in my life is overwhelming, in a good way. I could have never gotten to this place on my own. I could have never kicked my habits, or learned about family, and relationships, or God, or love, or how to respect you, or how to tolerate scary movies without help. I am forever grateful for those of you who have pushed, pulled and even at times dragged me to this day. I will be forever changed.

Today I feel the newness of this moment. I feel that I have not only turned the page, but also actually sealed the book, and started a completely new one. Scratch that, I have turned the page, finished the book, and then bought a kindle. Today is crisp with newness. The decisions I am making today are affecting me for the rest of my days, and for the first time I am proud of this novel.

Today I feel myself. There is no longer a need for pretense or self-discovery. I know who I am, but more importantly I know who I am becoming. The lovely lady on the inside is satisfied with this moment, because she knows there is only a better thing to come.

Today I am resolute. Change has always turned my world upside down. I usually let it win, but this time around it did not. I let it come and hit me with its hardness, and at the end it was only a scary storm that I am standing on the other side of. This is proof that the planting has taken.

Today I feel planted.

I will never sleep again...

For the third time, in about as many weeks, I have awoke to the sound of my bedroom door opening. AHH! In my sleep I hear the sound of the door thudding open, and then my heart leaps into my chest, waking me fully. I have leapt up, to first, turn the light on and second, go to close the door. The nightlight in the kitchen illuminates the hallway to my room and I see that no one is in fact in the hallway. I shut the door (this time I locked it, after I heard ANOTHER door in the house open). The first time this happened, the room to my lil kid brother Zach's, (who is not my actual brother, but is still pretty cool and brother-like), was in fact ajar. I was a bit too freaked out to investigate, but that morning he told me he woke up and his door was open. We shared and compared stories, and panicked a bit.

After a couple nights, we both decided that the most logical and probable explanation was that he slept walked. Fast forward a few nights, Zach wakes up to his door opening. I was at my mom's house, so my door probably opened also, but there was no one to document the phenomena (I realize that now I sound paranoid, but it is 4a.m. and I can't sleep, so paranoid it is).

That was about a week ago.

My door opened tonight, just now. I realize that many things could be a logical explanation for this strange occurrence: *ahem* 1: Zach could in fact be sleepwalking, because he was kinda fuzzy about actually being awake for the second time, 2: Zoey the Golden Retriever could have learned that I actually do not like her and is trying to freak me out by a). learning how to open doors and b). opening Zach's also to cover her tracks. 3: Casper is real.

All three of these options make me slightly tired, as I feel the effects of artful imagination take hold, but also a bit creeped out. Sleepwalking Kid? Resentful Dog? Friendly Ghost?

Ya I will never sleep again...

And Band of Horses "Is There a Ghost?", will be permanently stuck in my head.
Good thing I like that song.

UGH.
*shudder*

Alive and Thankful.

This two part story is unbelievable and hits me very close to home. The Doctor who was my mother's OBGYN when I was in the womb, suggested that she abort, becuuse he thought she was miscarrying the pregnancy. Thankfully my mother somehow knew that I was alive and kicking, and refused the "normal" D and C procedure that would have terminated my life. What divine mercy has been intricately working in my own life since before I was even aware! I have a defender that was fighting for me, before I even knew I needed it. Thank you God, Thank you mom. I am alive because of you!

Powerful. I also love Gianna Jessen's call for men to stand up and defend, and for women to never settle for abuse. Great soul reviving stuff right here.

 

The Song of a Broken Record Player That Keeps Repeating...

These happen to be words taken from an old blog. I love it. When I was eating dinner this evening, I was also taking in the ideas of everything I am learning. For some reason amid the barrage of new Ideas, this old one seemed to be the steady bass line in my head. So as one who continually adds to the clutter of your information world, I felt the burden to share it. More like sending it out into the unknown world of people who read this blog, will also help me understand the weight of this reality. 

Glory.

Here you go....

10 Resolutions for Mental Health
October 22, 1976, Clyde Kilby

Psalm 19:1“The sky is telling the glory of God.”

1. At least once every day I shall look steadily up at the sky and remember that I, a consciousness with a conscience, am on a planet traveling in space with wonderfully mysterious things above and about me.

2. Instead of the accustomed idea of a mindless and endless evolutionary change to which we can neither add nor subtract, I shall suppose the universe guided by an Intelligence which, as Aristotle said of Greek drama, requires a beginning, a middle, and an end.

I think this will save me from the cynicism expressed by Bertrand
Russell before his death when he said: "There is darkness without, and when I
die there will be darkness within. There is no splendor, no vastness anywhere,
only triviality for a moment, and then nothing."

3. I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguous and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event, filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities.

I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence, but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood.

4. I shall not turn my life into a thin, straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.

5. I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.

6. I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their "divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic" existence.

7. I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the "child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder."

8. I shall follow Darwin's advice and turn frequently to imaginative things such as good literature and good music, preferably, as Lewis suggests, an old book and timeless music.

9. I shall not allow the devilish onrush of this century to usurp all my energies but will instead, as Charles Williams suggested, "fulfill the moment as the moment." I shall try to live well just now because the only time that exists is now.

10. Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life on the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls himself Alpha and Omega.

i found this on john piper's website, here is the original link: http://www.desiringgod.org/Blog/2161_10_resolutions_for_mental_health/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+DGBlog+%28DG+Blog%29&utm_content=Twitter

"The Story of an Hour"

"The Story of An Hour"

Kate Chopin (1894)

Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death.
It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed." He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.
She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.
There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.
She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.
There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under hte breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that owuld belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.
There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they ahve a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.
And yet she had loved him--sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!
"Free! Body and soul free!" she kept whispering.
Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhold, imploring for admission. "Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door--you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven's sake open the door."
"Go away. I am not making myself ill." No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.
Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.
She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.
Some one was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease--of the joy that kills. 
 

 The immediate question I had when reading this was: who, or what is the "Mr. Mallard" in my life? What have I let poison my soul to the point that I will be completely ecstatic when I see it go? What is the thing that hangs as a heavy weight around the neck of my soul, bearing on me to the point of a deep resistance of my own reality? What have I said that I loved, but has become more of a curse than a true love? What have I let control me to the point where I have lost myself?

Good questions. This essay is a cause for me to stop and think. Good timing too. I am thankful for my English teacher. She certainly picks the soul stirrers.

NT Wright On Art & Mission

via youtube.com

I have listened to this multiple times, and it is still causing a massive display of mental fireworks. Wow. I love this.

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

The feeling in the car is tense; we are all coping in our own ways. This trip is filled with emotion and in many ways will change our family forever. My head is foggy and I don’t want to think about the realities of this moment, so I relax and let this sleepy battle give way. I begin to melt as I ponder the realities of this long anticipated parting.

The vibrations of the vehicle continue lulling me into the realm of a wakeful sleep. My body becomes gelatinous as I pass into a more relaxed state, this combined with a head cold, and loud music coming from behind me, have caused the world of sound to fade from my perceptions. My brother is sitting next to me and I can see the reflection of his game boy on his face, Mario Kart seems to have implicitly captured his attention for the moment. The sun is readying its passage to the other side of the world, but is still high enough to sear my skin. Moving away from the window, I lean toward the center and rest my shoulder on the backpack full to the brim of homework needing to be accomplished. I sigh heavily and I think to myself, it can wait.

I look beyond my brother to see the arid Colorado high-desert landscape whizzing past at a breakneck speed. The world seems askew from this seat today. My gaze wanders back to the car and I, turn toward the front seat. The animated look on Hunter’s face is quite comical, though she has always been able to contort her facial expressions as if she were Jim Carrey in The Mask. Audrey looks like a bobble head as she is transformed into a master storyteller; theatrics have always been her best asset. I take in this moment knowing full well that banter between them will not happen again for another year.

The slowing car jolts me awake. I see the outline of the white tent like structure imitating the Rocky Mountains in the distance. We have arrived at the Denver International Airport. Audrey parks and we all get out and stretch our cramped bodies before unloading the luggage. The time from the car to the check-in desk is surreal. We walk in, fiddling with the overstuffed luggage; the line for the flight across the pond is the only one full with travelers. We all sigh in relief as we have made it on time. I pull my brother to the side and we take a seat so that Hunter can check in to her 17-hour flight.

“Mrs. Gonzales, Mrs. Debra Gonzales, please make your way towards the nearest white courtesy telephone. Mr. Duncan, Mr. Albert Duncan. Please make your way…” This loud announcement explodes in my congested ears; the silence that was, is no longer. A couple making their way towards the seat behind us begin to drown it out. The woman hurriedly sits down and is speaking loudly in her British accent to her husband, “they seemed to ask a lot of questions didn’t they?” Before he has a chance to answer she continues on about the experience she just had checking in for this flight. I try to eavesdrop but find my attention wandering. I survey the line, keeping tabs on my sisters as they pass through the zigzag line created by vinyl strips and metal posts. Awareness unfolding at about the same rate as my mind continues to wake up.

The line is eclectic. You can tell the European foreigners from the American travelers; the look on their faces is giving it away. Peace for those going home, and a bit of tense anticipation for those on vacation. My eyes dance over piles of luggage, each one telling a story. Europeans and their choice of elegance over functionality intrigue me. There are many beautiful bags in this line made up of leather, and all very, very old. Bags without wheels or straps, all are awkward and bulky, there is not one with a spot of bungee, or any type of weatherproof fabric on this round of luggage.

Once again the couple in front of me takes precedence in the scattered perceptions I am under; I cannot help but notice the woman’s right foot propped up on her marvelously crafted carry on. A man in a uniform pushing a wheelchair distracts my eyes as he strolls up to the British couple. “Need a lift M’am?” She calmly looks up him and then eagerly nods her head with enthusiasm. The man takes the delicate looking carry-on placing under the seat, while she awkwardly moves her injured self into position. The man notes the water bottle left behind, but she loudly proclaims to him that they are “going to the club so there is no need for it”. I catch his eyes and see that he was only trying to be helpful, but his demeanor is now deflated as he rolls the pretentions woman towards security.

I look back to the check in and note the halfway point of my sister’s journey through the queue. I also see that two families have joined the line; one is obviously well traveled and the other is obviously not. The discombobulated couple has seemingly forgotten one of their bags about ten feet form their current location, A security guard quickly strides over setting his gaze on their bag and yelling toward the line, “WHOSE BAG IS THIS?” The mother looks up realizing she has forgotten her parcel, and her husband trots over, “It’s the babies! It’s the babies, sir!” The guard softens immediately and makes a joke that does not translate well: “Does your baby got any weapons?” The father is noticeably ruffled, but the wife sees the playfulness of the guard and laughs; with this giggle, a feigned friendship is born, they banter back and forth for a few moments and then the guard to continues on his way to ensure the airport is free from weapon slinging babies.

“Mrs. Gonzales, Mrs. Debra Gonzales, please make your way towards the nearest white courtesy telephone. Mr. Duncan, Mr. Albert Duncan. Please make your way to a white courtesy telephone. Mr. Gragorio, Mr. Dominique Gragorio… These names are definitely getting harder for the announcer to pronounce. I chuckle slightly as I note the accent of the voice, she sounds like a German version of the computer from a Startrek episode.

Looking up I see my sister at the front of the line and like a delicate ballerina she sets her 1980’s golden gilded, baggage onto the scale. She already looks European, in her designer jeans, handmade t-shirt, teal cardy, black leather slouchy boots, and a contagious smile. She hands over her paperwork and the woman on the other side of the counter is captivated instantly. The conversation happening 50 feet away from me cannot be heard, but their body language is louder than a megaphone.  Hunter is telling the grandmotherly attendant that she is moving to France, as an Au pair. She gasps, and I see her mouth moving, “Oh you are going to have the time of your life! Enjoy every second.”  They continue to talk for seemingly eternity, animated to the end.

Finally she is done, and she turns around and flashes her pristine smile comprising of perfect teeth, luscious lips, and dimples to boot. Her gait towards me is lighter than when we arrived and I can see the effects remaining from “Grandmother Airline”. I arise from my seat, tugged at by my brother, people watching skills fade away as I become the one to be watched. I take a deep breath and meet her smile with my own. It is time to say Adieu. 

Textile Kitchen Inspiration

I am trying to decide on full length curtains for my new abode. 

Not that I have dolla holla, but it never hurts to dream!

                                         

I think that some light fabric with black lines would be stunning.

                                          

I really think the floral poppies wold make an adorable '50s style dress. Oh how lovely!

 

Kitchen Inspirations, are red and black! Blenders and Mixers, OH MY!

 

 Inspirations this week are brought to you by the letters I for  Ikea and H for Hawthorne Threads

                    

See and download the full gallery on posterous

a pinch of this and a dash of that

There is so much to be said about this moment, right here.

My brain is actually growing immensely for the first time in what feels like forever. It feels so good. I have no idea (still) what I want to be when I grow up, but I am pretty sure it will include about ten more years of school. I LOVE THIS! I am also looking forward to the move, so much to plan and think about, but nothing I can really do yet.... except you should call me if you need a hair did! I could use some cash for groceries. :) I hear eating is nice. 

I am really pondering some exciting clothing lines to be completed over the next few months, as my finals are this week (yes, I accidentally registered for bimester classes not semester classes-it's been CRAZY!). So with classes over I am going to have a ton of time on my hands. I really want to find a fabric wholesale in the Springs that will be cheap until I can actually start selling stuff. Anyone know of any?? 

I am listening to Fleet Foxes right now and I forgot how much I truly love this band. There is something haunting about them and I just love the tinny sounds they produce. It is very invigorating, which is nice because I am going to need it for the crazy amount of homework I have this week. Speaking of which, it is time for sleep, I have to make an adult decision now!

Ta-ta for now. 

Hope this finds you well.

I Timothy 1:3-14

"I thank God whom I serve, as did my ancestors, with a clear conscience, as I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. As I remember your tears, I long to see you, that I may be filled with joy. I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, dwells in you as well. For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands, for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.

Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God,  who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of  his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began, and which now has been manifested through the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel, for which I was appointed a preacher and apostle and teacher, which is why I suffer as I do. But I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me. Follow the pattern of the sound words that you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. By the Holy Spirit who dwells within us, guard the good deposit entrusted to you."

P.S. I just found this amazing treasury of information: jesus.org So sweet! Anything you have ever wanted to know about Jesus! 

my favorite...

Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.
I say to the Lord, "You are my Lord;
I have no good apart from you."

As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones,
in whom is all my delight.
The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply;
their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out
or take their names on my lips.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;
you hold my lot.
The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
indeed I have a beautiful inheritance.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;
in the night also my heart instructs me.
I have set the Lord always before me;
because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;
my flesh dwells secure.
For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,
or let your holy one see corruption.

You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 16 (ESV)

I left the footnotes on purpose...use em.

⁴"Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: ^5(A) Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. ⁶Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. ⁷But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and^(B) pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare. ⁸For thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel:^(C) Do not let your prophets and^(D) your diviners who are among you deceive you, and do not listen to the dreams that they dream,^{[a] 9}for^(E) it is a lie that they are prophesying to you in my name;^(F) I did not send them, declares the LORD.

 ¹⁰"For thus says the LORD:^(G) When seventy years are completed for Babylon,^(H) I will visit you,^(I) and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place. ^11(J) For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare^[b] and not for evil,^(K) to give you a future and a hope. ^12(L) Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. ^13(M) You will seek me and find me, when you seek me^(N) with all your heart. ¹⁴I will be found by you, declares the LORD,^(O) and I will restore your fortunes and^(P) gather you from all the nations and all the places^(Q) where I have driven you, declares the LORD, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.

Footnotes:

1. Jeremiah 29:8 Hebrew your dreams, which you cause to dream
2. Jeremiah 29:11 Or peace

Cross references:

1. Jeremiah 29:5 : Jeremiah 29:28
2. Jeremiah 29:7 : Ezra 6:10; 1 Tim 2:1, 2
3. Jeremiah 29:8 : Jeremiah 5:31; 6:14
4. Jeremiah 29:8 : Jeremiah 27:9, 15
5. Jeremiah 29:9 : Jeremiah 5:31
6. Jeremiah 29:9 : Jeremiah 29:31
7. Jeremiah 29:10 : Jeremiah 25:12
8. Jeremiah 29:10 : Jeremiah 27:22
9. Jeremiah 29:10 : Jeremiah 33:14; Jeremiah 24:6
10. Jeremiah 29:11 : Isa 55:8, 9
11. Jeremiah 29:11 : Jeremiah 31:17
12. Jeremiah 29:12 : Jeremiah 33:3; Dan 9:3
13. Jeremiah 29:13 : 2 Chr 15:2; Psalm 32:6; 78:34; Prov 8:17; Isa 55:6; Hos 3:5; Lev 26:39-42; Deut 30:1-3
14. Jeremiah 29:13 : Jeremiah 24:7; Deut 4:29
15. Jeremiah 29:14 : Jeremiah 30:3
16. Jeremiah 29:14 : Jeremiah 23:3
17. Jeremiah 29:14 : Jeremiah 8:3

via biblegateway.com

This is where my head has been today. I am reveling in this. A bit ago, I was sent out to the "desert" to fall deeply in love with my maker. I have. I am ever awestruck by Yahweh. And now this. Oh how marvelous. Restoration is bittersweet, but worth every moment.

RELEVANT Magazine - What To Know When You're 25(ish)

What To Know When You're 25(ish)

Shauna Niequist

Wednesday, 15 September 2010 00:00

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Here are the things really worth caring about in your 20s.

When you’re 25-ish, you’re old enough to know what kind of music you love, regardless of what your last boyfriend or roommate always used to play. You know how to walk in heels, how to tie a necktie, how to give a good toast at a wedding and how to make something for dinner. You don’t have to think much about skin care, home ownership or your retirement plan. Your life can look a lot of different ways when you’re 25: single, dating, engaged, married. You are working in dream jobs, pay-the-bills jobs and downright horrible jobs. You are young enough to believe that anything is possible, and you are old enough to make that belief a reality.

Job

Now is the time to figure out what kind of work you love to do. What are you good at? What makes you feel alive? What do you dream about? You can go back to school now, switch directions entirely. You can work for almost nothing, or live in another country, or volunteer long hours for something that moves you. There will be a time when finances and schedules make this a little trickier, so do it now. Try it, apply for it, get up and do it.

When I was 25, I was in my third job in as many years—all in the same area at a church, but the responsibilities were different each time. I was frustrated at the end of the third year because I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do next. I didn’t feel like I’d found my place yet. I met with my boss, who was in his 50s. I told him how anxious I was about finding the one perfect job for me, and quick. He asked me how old I was, and when I told him I was 25, he told me that I couldn’t complain to him about finding the right job until I was 32. In his opinion, it takes about 10 years after college to find the right fit, and anyone who finds it earlier than that is just plain lucky. So use every bit of your 10 years: try things, take classes, start over.

Relationships

Now is also the time to get serious about relationships. And “serious” might mean walking away from the ones that don’t give you everything you need. Some of the most life-shaping decisions you make in this season will be about walking away from good-enough, in search of can’t-live-without. One of the only truly devastating mistakes you can make in this season is staying with the wrong person even though you know he or she is the wrong person. It’s not fair to that person, and it’s not fair to you.

Counseling

Twenty-five is also a great time to start counseling, if you haven’t already, and it might be a good round two of counseling if it’s been a while. You might have just enough space from your parents to start digging around your childhood a little bit. Unravel the knots that keep you from living a healthy whole life, and do it now, before any more time passes.

Church

Twenty-five is the perfect time to get involved in a church you love, no matter how different it is from the one you were a part of growing up. Be patient and prayerful, and decide that you’re going to be a person who grows, who seeks your own faith, who lives with intention. Set your alarm on Sunday mornings, no matter how late you were out on Saturday night. It will be dreadful at first, and then after a few weeks, you’ll find that you like it, that the pattern of it fills up something inside you.

Don't get stuck

This is the thing: when you start to hit 28 or 30, everything starts to divide, and you can see very clearly two kinds of people: on one side, people who have used their 20s to learn and grow, to find God and themselves and their deep dreams, people who know what works and what doesn’t, who have pushed through to become real live adults. And then there’s the other kind, who are hanging onto college, or high school even, with all their might. They’ve stayed in jobs they hate, because they’re too scared to get another one. They’ve stayed with men or women who are good but not great, because they don’t want to be lonely. They mean to find a church, they mean to develop honest, intimate friendships, they mean to stop drinking like life is one big frat party. But they don’t do those things, so they live in kind of an extended adolescence, no closer to adulthood than they were when they graduated college.

Don’t be like that. Don’t get stuck. Move, travel, take a class, take a risk. Walk away, try something new. There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming. Don’t lose yourself at happy hour, but don’t lose yourself on the corporate ladder either. Stop every once in a while and go out to coffee or climb in bed with your journal. Ask yourself some good questions like: “Am I proud of the life I’m living? What have I tried this month? What have I learned about God this year? What parts of my childhood faith am I leaving behind, and what parts am I choosing to keep with me for this leg of the journey? Do the people I’m spending time with give me life, or make me feel small? Is there any brokenness in my life that’s keeping me from moving forward?”

Now is your time. Become, believe, try. Walk closely with people you love, and with other people who believe that God is very good and life is a grand adventure. Don’t spend time with people who make you feel like less than you are. Don’t get stuck in the past, and don’t try to fast-forward yourself into a future you haven’t yet earned. Give today all the love and intensity and courage you can, and keep traveling honestly along life’s path.

Taken from Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist Copyright © 2010. Used by permission of Zondervan. www.zondervan.com

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Tags: church  relationships  job/career  career/money  whole life  whole life features  counseling  community  friends  dating  marriage  shauna niequist  bittersweet  career  job  travel  school  studying  

via relevantmagazine.com

Oh this is GREAT!!! Life is about BECOMING!! Not about the DOING! And it is so true, be something better today, and you will be proud of what you become tomorrow.

I love my english class...

"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled.  For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers."

—Unknown

 

Quote for thought.

Fin. Bonne nuit.

Oh snap...

Jared Wilson, over at the Gospel Driven Church posted a blog on Mad Men and Ministers. So Funny!

 

Mad Ministers

I saw someone on Twitter this week compare AMC's artful series "Mad Men" to the biblical book of Ecclesiastes. I see it. But I'm seeing something else, less reflective but more indicting. This is no "Gospel According to Mad Men" -- I'll leave that to Chris Seay -- but I do see in the characters certain male archetypes, rich in their falleness, that have parallel to certain ministerial archetypes. If this smacks too much of "relevance" or you have no reference point for "Mad Men," feel free to move on. But I think the show reminds me of some different pastoral types.

The Don Draper

Named for "Mad Men"'s main mad man, this is the prototypical rockstar pastor. Having once earned respect with astonishing success, he now commands it at every turn. He keeps everyone at a manageable distance and keeps his assistants and acolytes both demoralized but starving for his approval. A classic narcissist, he believes his own hype. And you better believe it too. This pastor is the toast of many towns. But he will crash and burn eventually.

The Peggy Olsen

Named for one of those Draper acolytes, always under his thumb but desperate for his smile, the Peggy Olsen type of pastor is passive aggressive, envious, secretive, and manipulative, but all from a place of sullen weakness. This pastoral type is in ministry for self-validation, to fill some void that has not been filled by the gospel. The Peggy Olsen is a sweetheart but driven personally by the burden of the Law. This pastor's prime engine runs on equal parts shame and envy.

The Roger Sterling

Named for the silver haired and silver tongued senior partner of "Mad Men"'s ad agency, this is the pastor pathetic in his desire to coast on the fumes of an old success. Roger Sterling landed Lucky Strike as a client once upon a time and parlayed that into some serious bank; he's been in autopilot ever since. He doesn't care much for doing anything now. He just wants to bask in what he's done before. This could be the pastor who wrote a popular book once upon a time or led his church to serious growth once upon a time or steered a massive building campaign once upon a time. And now he's coasting into retirement.

The Pete Campbell

My wife and I have decided that Vincent Kartheiser is a brilliant actor because we absolutely hate Pete Campbell. In my second ministry position I worked alongside a guy who was pretty much exactly like Pete. He was better than me; and he knew it. He reminded me often. He was superficial and smarmy. He stunk of ambition. This is the pastor in ministry not for ministry but to leverage any bit of power or position or prestige he can get out of it. This pastor tweets every day about how awesome he is.

The Bert Cooper

The senior senior partner of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce may be the only redeeming pastoral type from the show. He has seen hard-won success but isn't content to coast; he looks to the future. A pragmatist in the best sense of the word, he won't allow his personal feelings to get in the way of doing what's best for the company (as when he okayed the agency's dealings with a Japanese automaker over Roger Sterling's vehemence). The Bert Cooper is a pastor equal parts entrepreneur, folksy father figure, and "Art of War" chess master. He's also flexible, content, and even-keeled.

We need more Bert Coopers, probably.

Thank you for indulging me this throwaway post.

 

Who is your paster like? Does he fit into one of these types? Obviously we would like to say that we all have a "Bert Cooper" on our pulit, but do you really? I have been around a lot of "Don Draper's", "Peter Sterling's" and "Pete Cambell's" in my day, and I am hoping that will change. Praying for the leadership at the church I go to, tonight. Hoping that the Lord will saturate all churches and maybe they will be more Jesus like! Ha, that would probably be best. Psh. Forget about Bert.