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The following is an item I found in my stash of old letters. It was written several years ago from my three youngest siblings to our mother (who photocopied it and sent it to me), asking for permission to buy a fancy toy from a neighbor who was moving back to the States. I have done as little editing as possible.

Dear Mom,

These are the reasons we would like to buy the Lego ship:

1. It has a lot of gear – like a compass, a wheel that moves the rudder, sailors in uniform – etc.

2. The money we would like to spend on it is ours, so we feel we should be able to because it is our money after all.

3. J. is going to college and is trying to sell the ship. if we buy it, it might give him some money sort of like Pete was selling stuff for money.

4. If we do get it we will not argue over it, or at least we will try not to argue over it.

5. The ship would provide lots of fun for us, especially with how big and realistic, and good it is.

6. Because it is a complete set, it would be nice to have because it is whole and the parts are not missing. This would make it more fun because we don’t have to replace parts.

7. It would also be a nice replacement for our homemade, [illegible], multicolored, ships that do not have real equipment and are litterally [sic] shagalabagala [Swahili term for messy, chaotic, etc.]. We say this because our “ships” are not complete our men are mismatched, our things are different colors, and we don’t have all the supplies

8. The ship could also be fun to share with other kids who visit and love Legos like the Ks.

9. Lastly if we decided not to keep the ship any more when we grow older, we could sell it or give it away to somebody who could enjoy it.

Love,

Emily J. Morrison

Noah Morrison

Daniel

P.S. We are sure this is how we want to spend our money. We would really enjoy the ship even if it is 1000 shillings.

 

They got it.

9 years ago, my life plans were pretty set. I was going to be a doctor. I was going to pay off my loans somewhere in the rural U.S., far far away from any city. Then I was going to move back to Africa to live and die.

9 years ago today, I received my high school diploma.

Now, 9 years later, I am not a doctor; I’m a speech-language pathologist (which, by the by, is a profession I did not know existed 9 years ago). I don’t live in the boonies; I reside near downtown in the largest city in Wisconsin (which, by the by, is a state I probably couldn’t have even found on a map 9 years ago). And though I hope to visit on occasion, I very well may never live in Africa again (which, by the by, is not an easy thing for me to contemplate).

“The heart of man plans his way,
but the Lord establishes his steps.”

Wow – I’m living proof of Proverbs 16:9!

15 innings, four hours and fifty minutes of baseball. And I watched it all, into the wee hours of this morning, a luxury afforded to few others than the unemployed-until-next-month, I suppose.

It showed me again why I love the game, which started out slow and scoreless in last evening, but built up to an nail-biting, error-plagued, close-outs-at-the-plate, sleeplessness-inducing affair that stretched out til today.

I’m a National League girl, so the end result wasn’t what I could’ve wished for, especially with the Phillies‘ Brad Lidge giving up the go-ahead run when the Brewers‘ Corey Hart’s throw home was a tad late, but it was an epic as far as I’m concerned. It’s a good thing they’ve made the Game count, otherwise, it probably wouldn’t have gotten that far, and  would most certainly have been less exciting. The American League will once again have World Series home field advantage. But don’t worry, NL fans. Say it with me now . . .

There’s always next year.

I told my friend, Emily, this weekend that sometimes I feel as if I live in the quotes of other people because their words say what I’m thinking so much better than I ever could. The following is an exception, however. It is thoroughly my quote. 

You see, we were fooling around on Saturday night with those magnetic words (and random prefixes and suffixes) that you put on refrigerators. Basically, we turned them upside down and chose several without knowing what they were, then tried to make grammatical sentences out of them. My first effort was:

“As an entertainer, chapterly sit between each device.”

Profound, no? So profound, indeed, that I don’t even know what it means . . . but it is grammatical. This illustrates an interesting linguistic point – that a sentence can be absolutely correct in its grammar, while at the same time, it is absolutely meaningless. Ah, the joy and mystery of language.

On the original note, I think we can now agree that I should stick to other people’s quotes rather than creating my own, right?

“she spoke with lips that love to laugh” – Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, trans. Simon Armitage

I like that description. It makes me smile.

“I took a course in speed-waiting. Now I can wait an hour in only ten minutes.” – Steven Wright

Wish it were true, but in the meantime, I’ll delight in that for which I wait:

1 Thessalonians 1:9-10 “For they themselves report concerning us the kind of reception we had among you, and how you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, Jesus who delivers us from the wrath to come.”

I read the following quote in Steven Pinker’s The Stuff of Thought (which is one of those fascinating mind-benders that language nerds like me enjoy immensely) and thought I’d share. It’s from an actual high schooler’s paper. . .  he should’ve gotten some points for creativity at least.

“He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.”

I think I might slip this little “gem” into a conversation someday.

Do I really believe the promises of God? When he promises to give “peace that passes understanding” (Philippians 4:9) as I bring my worries to him, to “supply all [my] needs according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19), or to “withhold no good thing from them who walk uprightly” (Psalm 84:11), do I rest in his Word?

Not enough. I tend to push aside the all-powerful, all-caring, all-sufficient God who “owns the cattle on a thousand hills” (Psalm 50:10), and carry the weight of the world on my shoulders and in my heart. The problem there is, this fading flower (Isaiah 40:6-7) of a human was never meant to lug  so heavy a burden.

Oh, for grace to trust him more.

Actually, it is. According to http://hnn.us/articles/132.html,

“America’s independence was actually declared by the Continental Congress on July 2, 1776. The night of the second the Pennsylvania Evening Post published the statement: “This day the Continental Congress declared the United Colonies Free and Independent States.”

The announcement of said declaration was made on the Fourth, hence the date on the document.

By His grace, that’s 232 years of freedom. May God continue to bless these United States with his undeserved favor.

One of the “nice” things, I suppose, about unemployment is the freedom to do things spur of the moment. Take yesterday – I’m walking down the street and seen a sign – “Blood Drive – Walk Ins Welcome”.

So I walked in. And gave about 1/16 of my blood. I still find it amazing that even with that much taken out of me (and it sure looks like a LOT in that 700mL bag), I can still function normally, with no ill effects (save a bruised arm). I was told I could look away as the needle went in, but I never do. If some sharp metal object is going to be invading my body, I want to watch if at all possible. The tubes carrying the life giving stuff away from my veins rested gently on my forearm, and I felt the warmth on my skin, which struck me as strange for some reason. The blood itself was not red, of course, but a deep purple, untouched by oxygen. And weird as it may seem, I think it’s beautiful. Truly, the life is in the blood.

I was thinking about believers and our relationship to blood, particularly the blood of Jesus Christ. In many ways, it must seem odd to the world that this blood is so valued by us, that we sing songs about it and give thanks to the One who shed it. But when a person truly understands that “without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sins”(Hebrews 9:22), and that Jesus didn’t just die, he died for me and you, the idea of blood really does take on a preciousness which is hard to describe in mere words.

Soaring Gas Prices

Soaring Food Prices

Presidential Election

War in Iraq and Afghanistan

North Korea = Nuclear Power??

If you’re like me (and most of the rest of America), one of these five phrases (if not ALL of them) made you a little unsettled, a little nervous, a little perturbed. Things keep piling up, piling on, getting worse. I sometimes wonder how people who don’t have the Lord sleep at night – and I just listed a few universal issues . .

Yeah, getting upset would be really easy right now, but for this:

Philippians 4:6 “do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God, And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Psalm 37:25 “I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
or his children begging for bread.”

How comforting to be unforsaken as the world tumbles down.

 

Last night, I went out with friends. We had a picnic supper of BLTs, chips, strawberries, and sweet tea while listening to Jazz in the Park. We then played sand volleyball for an hour and a half until it got too dark to see and hiked down to the lake to hear the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra play for free. We got there with the concert almost over, but their finale of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” was well worth the trek. As it was the first night of the world-famous music festival, Summerfest, they had what’s referred to as the “Big Bang” to kick things off – fireworks! And I didn’t get home ’til nearly midnight (quite the aberration).

OK, seriously, does it get any better on a summer night than that??

The old 50’s song, “If I Knew You Were Coming” (I’d’ve Baked a Cake)  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ss941vaoe_A) started me thinking about contractions, and how I can’t imagine life without them. I mean, I cannot. Consider never using another contraction again. This is easier to do when writing, much harder to do when speaking. Talking gets clunky when we take out the contracted verbs and negatives.

Singing does too:

. . . I would have baked a cake, I would have baked a cake, I would have baked a cake . . .

Contractions are they’re good, especially lovely double ones like “I’d’ve”. And the song ain’t all that bad either.

I rediscovered the Boggle on Saturday night. It’s one of those games I remember playing as a kid at the kitchen table with Mom and my brothers, but I hadn’t played it in years. I forgot how much fun it was, but when you combine letters, obscure words (“boded”, anyone?) and a 3 minute time limit – wow! It’s great!

Also, when there’s the “th” letter combination right in the middle is helpful as it doth bringeth back the Olde English feel to things.

Psalm 27:13-14 – I found these verses to be very encouraging this morning, especially as I’m . . . waiting. (I always seem to be doing that!)

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living!
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!

Last night I had the wonderful experience of eating supper with a friend from grad school, her husband, and her Argentine in-laws. The food was fresh from scratch South American cooking, and English and Spanish flew about in equal quantities, much to the delight of my always-anxious-for-anything-international ears. We talked, via frequent translation, of Africa, languages, school, work, and a recently stolen lawn mower. They wanted to learn some Swahili words, and after going over only a few phrases, Swahili was proclaimed to be much easier to pronounce than cumbersome English words like “siblings”. I find that whenever my mind hears another language, Swahili is on the tip of my tongue. Of course, this is rarely productive when talking to someone from South America . . .

After dinner, we watched a World War I movie in which actors occasionally dialogued in French or German. And there we were, a farm girl from Iowa, her Argentine family, and the girl from Kenya, sitting in a living room in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, watching a film that took place in Europe.

And those continental connections sure felt like home to this alien and stranger.

That is, according to psychologist Cliff Arnall, who has actually developed an equation demonstrating variables that makes this, 20 June, the happiest day of the year. The following quote is from an article at ajc.com:

“Apparently it’s the combination of brighter evenings, childhood memories, and the prospect of summer holidays that puts the best possible spin on today.”

So . . . feel any better?

Even more wonderful than sunshine, good memories, and holidays, though, is this promise from  Romans 4:

“Blessed [Happy] are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed [happy] is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.”

Hallelujah!

As I write this blog entry, I’m listening to comfort music. Just like we eat certain kinds of food because they are comfortable, so we listen to music that comforts us.

I was thinking about why I have certain songs that I play over and over again, and why my iPod has such a weird mix on it. One of my very kind friends described my music collection as “eclectic” (which I think is nicer than “weird”), and it is that. I have about every musical genre, including rap, folk, classical, pop, country, hymns – and some songs that don’t fit really well in any category. I imagine that most people have “eclectic” collections.

But why?

Sometimes, a lot of times, I’ll add a song because it reminds me of a place or a time or a friend. I might not have otherwise liked and listened to it, but it has meaning attached. That’s why Horowitz’s rendition of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” bumps up against the Kenyan song “Chonga Viazi” which in turn precedes the thoughtful “How Deep the Father’s Love” which is incongruously followed by “The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything” which leads us, oddly enough, to “Canon in D” (that’s on shuffle, by the way).

And that’s why I have numbers like “Hey There Delilah” in my repertoire. That one is only in there because when I was home last summer, Noah was picking it out on his guitar. It reminds me of my brother, and I smile.

It’s my comfort music.

I woke up at 4 this morning thinking about Santa Claus. Yes, him. Despite the fact that summer, not winter, is nigh, and there are about a zillion other things I could/should think about if I happen to awaken in the wee hours of the morning, it was the Jolly Elf  on the tip of my brain.

I’ve been listening to the enjoyable audiobook memoirs of a girl growing up in rural Indiana. I finished it last night before going to bed, and in the final chapter, the author writes about when she received a much wished for gift at Christmas, complete with a handwritten letter from – you guessed it – Mr. Claus himself. The story was told in a very touching, sweet way, but early this morning I awoke to find myself contemplating the aftermath.

Millions of kids are told about Santa’s existence by well-meaning (and well-trusted) parents, and of course these young’uns believe the story. They have no reason not to. And in most cases, Santa has taken over the role of God – we know from that old holiday tune that he’s all-knowing, and pretty close to being omnipresent and omnipotent too. He is a really good guy to believe in.

Imagine the kick in the gut, then, when these kids are at recess with a slightly wiser friend who (smugly) disabuses them of their belief in Santa, revealing to them that they’ve been lied to their whole life. Ouch.

It reminds me (on an infinitely larger scale) of friends I have who have been saved out of religion. Some were told all their lives that you can get to heaven because of your baptism or good works, etc., only to discover that salvation is by the grace of God, apart from works, in the work and person of Jesus Christ. That revelation stings too, but it is a needed sting.

I realize it is probably one of the biggest barriers to a person placing their trust in Christ, and only the Spirit of God can break the walls down. May we be used of him to (kindly, gently) disabuse people of their faulty beliefs, and point them to the Light.

There it is – a month ago tomorrow. I figured since I spent a lot of time on this blog looking forward to that day, it might be nice to take a look back to 18 May. (And I think, good grief! Is that for real?) It was great to have both my parents (as well as a brother, my dad’s parents, and two sweet college friends) there for the momentous occasion. Thus ended my formal education, but it figures I would find myself back at school in the fall – after all, my friends call me a “lifer”.

I take that as a compliment.