Sufjan Stevens - Holy, Holy, Holy

dad's rescue

I ran out of gas tonight after work, and sputtered to a halt. There I sat on the side of the road, in a dead car, with a near dead phone, in the pouring rain, at 11:00 pm. With the little battery I had, I called home and alerted the troops (some of which, were in bed), and was informed that Dad was on the way. All I could do was sit and listen to the rhythmic patter of the rain on the roof and the clicking of my lonesome emergency lights. It was a good time...a waiting time. I used it in silence, to slow my racing heart and mind down from finals, Christmas festivities, and regular busy-ness. I tried to listen to the whisper or, in this case, the "patter" God uses to communicate or convict. Amongst the humbling of my heart, the time of confession and silence, and the general recognition of the beautiful God I have in the glorious storminess of night, what was continually brought to my attention was just how marvelous it was to have a Daddy who would come without complaint in the middle of the night and in the pouring rain, to rescue me. It was symbol, so often forgotten, of how much God loves us....that He would send Jesus Christ into the rain and murkiness of sin to save us...that He loves us and wants us to wait on Him, and that He not only saves us, but comes when we call day by day. Dad showed up, greeted me with such warmth, as his truly valued daughter, and finagled the stupid plasticy gas thingy into my car. I know I irresponsibly let it run low, but he came when I called. That was beautiful.

morocco and spain in 4,000 pictures.

on the brink.

Tonight, or this morning, I just finished my last ASL paper and quiz, and am starting to hype up on the nerves of the finality of the coming week. I can. not. wait. I do find it discouraging, however, that at the beginning of the semester, when things are less heavily weighted, you have all sorts of energy and enthusiasm, and then at the end, when it is so blasted important, you are almost too tired and worn down to care.
This evening I stopped into a thrift store to begin the Christmas gift perusing process. I love gift giving. It is one of my faves. That balance between finding something they, and you, find delightful?...so riveting. Working at a place where endless glitter garbed angels and statues of arctic penguins are sold, makes me crave the traditional beauty of the past. Give me a fresh pine garland with cranberries, some stained glass candle holders, wonderful shaped cookie cutters, and unique tins...mmmmm, the practical, useful kind of beauty.
ps. are wide pants pase? because i just bought a pair.
sincerely,
the girl who's almost done with fall and can thus move onto winter merriness.

my lil peeps.

Sunday I watched my lil chillins, Thompson, Owen, and Calvin. I was feeling a touch of a sore throat and told Taylore it would be a lay low kind of day, and it very well was. As it trickled dreary hues of colors outside, Thompson and I cuddled in her bed with a movie. The boys crept in after their naps, and I soon found myself snuggled in with little sweaty, soft, post-napping munchins on my lap and all about me. I love that groggy, calm, reserved state children are in when they just wake up (if they're not whiny). After a day of hot chocolate in sippy cups, random bows placed in my hair by Thompson, and a quick glorious romp outside on the trampoline in the rain, I brushed their hair, scrubbed their lil faces, found their shoes, cleaned off their clothes, and handed them over to Grammy for a night of performing on stage at their evening Christmas service. Thank you, dearies, for making me feel better.

folkie love.

Tuesday night was the unveiling of Biola's first folk ensemble. Delicious, enriching, warm...all good words.

merry winter.

by cerloz http://www.flickr.com/photos/cerlo/4356572713/