Special Post #2

1. "What sort of lover am I to think so much about my affliction and so much less about hers? Even the insane call, 'Come back,' is all for my own sake. I never even raised the question whether such a return, if it were possible, would be good for her. I want her back as an ingredient in the restoration of my past. Could I have wished for anything worse?" C.S Lewis, A Grief Observed, Pg. 41
On this page C.S Lewis is continuing in his thoughts on grief. He has lost the love of his life and is trying to healthy mourn for her lost but her finds himself desiring her back even though that may not be the best option for her. This could be for several reasons. She was in several pain due to her body trying to fight renal failure, just possibly she would have grown to no longer love him (his thought in the book), they could have been living a life of lies, or possibly this could be the rantings of a lonely man. I am going to stray away from saying it is merely rantings.

2. The reason that this passage needs to be interpreted is because C.S Lewis has never before revealed parts of himself to this degree before. When I first read this book, I had to double take at the authors name. Not because there weren't complex metaphors or because I was bored to tear, but rather it was the fact that I thought I was reading someone's journal rather than a piece of literature (perhaps they are all the same). C.S Lewis goes from challenging our faith, to the magical land of Narnia and then takes us for a journey into the deepest, and perhaps most darkness places of his soul. Reading this passage I was not sure what to take away. Usually it is just a part of grief to mourn for ones lost spouse but this grief seemed much darker than anything I had read. It was as if the possibility of is his wife had no passed, would they live together a few more years and realize they never loved each other. That their actions throughout their marriage were self based even so would her return be for someone else other than himself?

3. This story is about grief, and to the extent that this book is about the deepest, most dark places of ones soul that can only be revealed or shown when going through absolute despair. C.S Lewis has reached this point due to the loss of his wife. When she was alive I would imagine that the love that they shared was strong, but I believe even more so that it was proved to be stronger than he ever thought after she was no longer present in the flesh. I was very young when I loss my grandmother, even so young that it was almost beyond my comprehension. I was extremely close with her, and I can relate to wanting to almost have her stay due to the light she carried into the room with her, however reasons for keeping her would not be as persuasive as the reasons as to why she had to go. She was in suffering much like Lewis' wife, her time on the earth was completed. That still didn't take away the sting and pain of having to watch her go. This line pierces me when I think of her death, "I want her back as an ingredient in the restoration of my past." Most of the memories I had as a child were at her house laughing and playing with all of the collectible jewelry she kept from over the years. When Lewis says this life, I believe him to be meaning that one of the reasons for wanting her back is so that he can remember parts of his past he may feel the need now to suppress due to the pain it causes to relive those moments. It is this tension between is my pain greater than the pain she felt. Is my desire for her back completely devoid of her feelings and if so is this love?

4. I believe that is a correlation between the thoughts of Lewis and I. In the very next page, he continues to discusses this grief he feels with the idea that there is a possibility that his sin and her sin would drive them to realize each others sin and push them away from one another. I can see that he is beginning to doubt in his faith. No so much as it relates to God but his faith in the love he shared with his wife. He wants her back to remember the past but the idea and reality of dealing with what could of happened in the future is sounding greater than his desire to have her back. This very well could just be the settling of the grief portraying him to be a different man. If I am just being honest grief also brings out sides of me that I never knew existed. Its as if to be tapped into the full self is to be pulled from all sense of bliss in order to embrace the reality. Perhaps that is too much of my extremist personality lets meet halfway. To know joy we must experience suffering. Instead of brashly pushing it away we must sometimes embrace it, for its season will come and go but there are lessons to be learned during these times. I suppose this was a bit of a tangent to go on but I believe after reading the next couple of pages Lewis and I are united to a point in our thoughts.

5. Its no so much that my interpretation matters as much as it matters to interpret what is mean't and what the purpose is to suffer. The author throughout this book is searching for the purpose of grief and loss are. He knows that everyone dies and that eventually he too will also die, however embracing this death proves to be more difficult than he bargained for. His love for H was strong but perhaps it was only as strong as he made it. Perhaps the illusion of what they had is what he holds near and tight to rather than what they really were. We all must experience suffering, in order to realize what joy can be found in life. If there were only moments of laughter not sadness we, I believe would have this strong sense of community. Without moments of tears we become just one sided beings, unlike the round and broad creatures that the Lord has so carefully constructed.


I end this post on this note. While I have said what I believe my interpretation of this text is, always remember "interpretation much like beauty, is in the eyes of the beholder."

The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas

I understand that this post is late, but it took me a few days to digest this story. Upon reading this I was filled with sadness, followed quickly by anger. I cannot fathom a village using a child in a cruel and inhumane way. I continue to read the idea of some staying and others leaving Omelas because they simply cannot take this injustice and have no other options. To stay is to embrace the idea of using a child in order to keep such beauty but to leave is to neglect the matter completely. I tried to imagine if I could stay in a village where this was happening. If I knew that in order to maintain the most beautiful city is to completely destroy a child's life then I want to say I would stand up to this injustice. However, I am convicted because on my shirt says made in China. I can more than likely picture that halfway across the world there was someone that had to pick the cotton to make this shirt and then spend hours sowing it together for mere pennies an hour. I think about my mom who has had to give up so much just so I can come to school and get a great education. She has sacrificed so much out of her love for me. Another thought, probably the most moving is Jesus sacrificing His life for me so that I could on dat know him and have a deep and intimate relationship with Him. The child is a representation of Jesus. The sacrifice to maintain the beauty is what he does everyday. The beauty we see around us is the reflection and result of the ultimate sacrifice. We can marvel at beauty and breathe in beautiful moments because there was one who allowed Himself to be broken beyond recognition. This is love.

A Temple of the Holy Ghost

When I read this title I thought for some reason it would lead into a discussion of the body. I am not quite sure why but reading the title had my mind elsewhere.
In the first couple of lines I am already falling in love with the way in which the writer communicates. "Getting so red and hot that they were ugly." I can picture myself as one of these girls laughing as my freckled covered face turned red. I used to put on my moms lipstick when I was little and even thought it wasn't quite my color I wanted to be like mom. I say all of this because I imagine that these little girls did the very same thing. Being young and wanting to feel older they took the bright colored lipstick and scribbled it on their face clunking around in high heels too big for their feet.
Fast forward I see this image, "The sun was going down and the sky was turning a bruised violet color that seemed to be connected with the sweet mournful sound of the music." This imagery is absolutely beautiful. When I think of the color violet I am connected to flowers, no matter what color they are I think of them as purple. To me purple is this sign of beauty found in the most overlooked things. The going down of the sun is one of my favorite parts of the day. It seems to resolve everything and create this separation in which carries us into a night of limitless possibilities.
I am unable to identify my favorite character. I think it may Susan, but I am not sure if that is because of her character or because of the fact that she is a skinny, pale, redhead (do you see the possibility for the bias?) The two girls remind me of my friendship with my friend Anna Marie. She has this beautiful blonde hair that tendrils up. She does not sound nasally but she, if embarrassed enough will tun different colors. We find ourselves doing this quite often.
I think my favorite scene is when the boys begin to play music. With nothing ringing in the air but a guitar and a harmonica they find themselves becoming lost in the music. I love to sit in my room and stum on my guitar. Even though I have much to learn I feel a peace when I hear the sound of the guitar expanding to fill my room.
I say all of this to conclude with this, I really enjoyed this story.

A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings

I have to say, this is one of weirdest stories I have read for this class yet.
When I say weird I mean angel falling from heaven and living in a chicken cope type of weird. I suppose there is symbolism within each element. Like him being in a cage could represent the feelings we have as being trapped in a situation or in a particular place in society. Perhaps the throwing of the rocks at the angel represent Stephen the Matyr. Maybe just maybe the author knew a man who lived in a chicken cope. All of these questions may seem weird but reading this story that is what I was left with, questions.
The author was interesting, born in Columbia, close with his grandmother and loved telling stories. I imagine that he is inspired by the stories he has heard from his family. As if as a child he climbed into his grandfathers lap and listened as he told of war tales and or love.
I can relate to the author in this feeling of inspiration. My grandparents have beautiful stories and often times I will go to their house to hear them tell me of their days. I sometimes cannot avoid them. I will be doing something in the kitchen and from across the house my grandmothers voice rings in the air "in my day we walked to school in the snow".  I may laugh and joke with her at the time but these stories she tells me leave an imprint in my heart. I desire that my house one day is filled with stories, stories of the past, present and future.
I am not sure if this is what the story was supposed to evoke but it definitely got me thinking of the beautiful memories of my grandparents.
I am not sure why exactly this story matters in my life, but to someone, somewhere this story tells a tale deeper than what I have read.

Lake Bonny Park Expedition

"I went to Lake Bonny Park for this field trip, and I stayed there for at least 45 minutes."
Now that I got that off my chest, here goes it. 
I enjoy parks more than most things. I love the fresh air, the jungle gym and the possibility of me missing the monkey bars and landing directly on the mulch. I guess one could say adventure is my middle name. That why on this trip to Lake Bonny Park I found myself picking oranges in the field next to the signs that read "Beware Alligators". I loved the taste of the citrus juices as they flowed through my mouth and gave me such a feeling of satisfaction.  
Well enough about the fruit now about the weather. I went to the park during the afternoon and the weather could not have been more ideal. It wasn't wet from the rain but dry and inviting. I enjoyed the way the grass felt as I took off my shoes and laid out with the sun cascading over my shoulders and face. 


The sun shines as if only for me,
As I lay in the grass I can almost feel its colors of green.


One of my favorite poems of the class was Mary Oliver's Six Recognitions of the Lord I especially enjoy the following line: "Of course I have always known you are present in the clouds, and the black oak I especially adore, and the wings of birds."


I can hear the song of my winged friends,
Even they can feel Your presence in the wind.


I love the way she places you in the middle of her poems. I can relate her experience to nature with mine. I have always loved being outside and I suspect that I will enjoy it until the day I die. I suppose its ironic as a child I played in the dirt when I am old my body will return to the soil. Hope that was not too morbid a thought. 


I shuffle my toes in the dirt,
I can feel the stain of the soil remain


I have to say having a class require me to do things like write poetry and play at a park sounds like my type of learning. 

The sun shines as if only for me,

As I lay in the grass I can almost feel its colors of green.

I can hear the song of my winged friends,

Even they can feel Your presence as they soar in the wind.

I shuffle my toes in the dirt,

I can feel the stain of the soil remain.

This imprint remains not just simply between the cracks of my soles,

But its pigment fuses to my heart.

Its quite possible that my being is tied with the trees, 

And my feet tread on the tracks of the natives.

I believe my ancestors got it right,

Stripped to a tippee, the grass, and family.

The basics are where I find happiness,

It is in this simplicity that I feel such an effortless bliss.

The world demands for life at just a click away,

Nature screams wait I have something to say.

The daily news screams what is wrong with the world, 

But a day in the grass are stories untold.

For the patience and stillness brings comfort to the soul,

While the business or life just demands control.

So if my thoughts had a voice, here is what they would say,

If you're patient my friend I will talk your breath away.

Circle B

The day started off grey and dreary and the possibility for rain hung in the sky. I arrived at Circle B Ranch excited for a day of nature. I loved the smell of wood as I walked into the information center and enjoy the fresh air even more as I left the center.
Our journey began to benches where we reread the Robert Hass poem of which I loved even more outdoors.
I had no idea of what we would be doing but I enjoyed Mrs. Cotton's enthusiasm as she tried to capture every moment on her tiny silver digital camera.
I enjoy nature so much and I can recall moments where I would come home from church and climb my neighbors tree in my sundress. My neighbor didn't enjoy me doing this as much as I did, and often times he would tell me to get down from the nearest window. Nature has always been something that has captivated my interest, therefore the these sections on nature have been some of my favorite.
Robert Hass's poem was very beautiful. It difficult at times to grasp but I could appreciate his beautiful imagery and language that was anything but simplistic. I found myself looking up new words that I didn't understand and this has not been a practice I have used in a long time.

We sat gathered on the coldness of silver,
with moss gangling over our heads.
The sky remained cold,
But the words in the air brought warmth.
Merrily picking weeds we learned how to care for what was not human,
And I found myself caring for the green that was being removed.
A stroll by the river made me realize how small I am,
But gazing at it gave me back the sense of significance I had lost. 
For such beauty was seen,
In the coldest of springs.


I have to say nature has been taking up a large portion of my heart lately.

Reflections on State of the Planet

I will admit, I love this poem. I could literally close my eyes and see images of the beauty the author wrote about. He used beautiful grammar and engaged my attention.
There is a particular line that stood out to me "poetry should be able to comprehend the earth", I don't know if I agree with this statement. I do not know if mere words can fully comprehend the beauty the Lord has crafted together. Words all to often fall short, but I can push back and say poetry is our attempt to comprehend the earth.

After reading this poem I was inspired to write a few lines of my own.
There is beauty found in the wind, in the sun and even in the shadows
His reflection can be seen in the sky and in the ripples of the water
The deer pants for such and the trees begin their howls
We the clay and He, the ultimate potter


This man he spoke of, was a roman poet. I imagine that his poetry was the inspiration for our author Robert Hass. He spoke of Venus and things I have never seen but I imagined what such beauty could look like.

The way Robert Hass ends this poem is with more of a reflection on what he is saying. The beginning of the poem is an introduction to beauty and the end is looking back on this beauty and realizing that we will all face the sting of death. Is it really a sting or more and arriving of what is hoped for. For me death is not all that morbid. It is the returning to the place my heart longs for. I suppose that those I leave behind will miss me but the One who awaits me is the One I was created to one day see.

There was not a particular stanza or line that confused me, but the concept was an interesting one to me. I was not familiar with Lucretius's work and this poem was a reflection of his so I had to reread somethings over and over again to fully grasp the main idea.

AFI Reflection

I had to say visiting the adults at AFI was truly a memorable experience. Not just a journal worthy, or blog worthy experience but one that left a deep imprint on my heart. 

I remember Becky, she was must more quiet than I was and I watched as she smiled and laughed as I bombarded her with questions on her favorite past time and I listened as she explained to me the joy and passion she felt for her sowing machine. She wore pearls, which reminded me of Bianca and suddenly this good moment turned into a great and beautiful piece of nostalgia. Bianca, my sister, has a large portion of my heart and that Tuesday afternoon, Becky also stole a piece of my heart. I thought back to the character Sheila in the story. Unlike Sheila, Becky was not fascinated by flowers or in love with someone. Her love was for her friend who was currently on vacation and she longed to see her return. 

I had to say I was trying to compare the characters of The Boys Next Door to the people we met at AFI and I could only categorize it by similar actions. Each person had a different personality and each one had a different story just like the characters in the play. I watched the woman giving us a tour and saw that her heart was clearly with these people. Just like Jack I am sure she has reached moments where she felt frustrated. If not with the people I could tell she was frustrated with the state system and I found myself feeling some frustration as she was talking about the way in which things worked. Instead of empowering these people I felt as if the state was treating them like child. By limiting their funds it is not giving them this freedom but chaining them to waiting on government funding  and in a way I wonder if they at times feel more like a burden than a human. The thought of them feeling this way broke my heart.

I was definitely blessed by this trip in more ways than one. 

I hope I can visit again soon.

The Spirit of God Hovered

The article moved me greatly. I know that is probably the most general I could possibly be but I was touched by this article. I appreciate the raw emotions expressed by a professor that I will one day sit in class with. In the study of ministry we emphasize that the Lord heals, He can completely transform someones life with just one encounter. What happens though when a loving mother receives the news that a seemingly perfect child will have autism. We talk about God's creation being perfect, can we accept that sometimes perfection comes in the form of what we would not expect. Dr. Fettke more than understands that his sons illness is in no way a deformity but a gift in disguise.
His love for his son is beautiful. He has such a passion and desire for his child to not only be accepted in a church but leave his footprints in a same way others do. Not saying that he believes his son is better than others but there needs to be a place for not just his son but others with special needs. Looking at the churches I have attended I have to say I see something similar. However I didn't walk into them with the lenses that Dr. Fettke sees through. I am not a parent of someone with special needs so the lack of involvement for these people was never something that caught my attention. I am ashamed to type these words because I should be more aware and open to see things around me. I can see things such as inappropriate behavior and what is wrong in ones sermon but I neglect the activities that involve people whos only deformity is their lack of voice. This article demands a voice for the silent.
My mother works with a man with special needs and she loves him dearly. He has more faith than any person I have ever known. His personality and demeanor  radiates of Christ love, but yet instead of serving in the ministry that his heart was created for he remains isolated to a pue. Is this not wrong?

The Boys Next Door Part II

As  I continue to explore this play I am learning more and more about what the life of a mentally handicapped person goes through. I think of all of the people who feel uncomfortable by the challenged. I will admit when you see an outburst from a large man in the middle of a store you tend to look. Or perhaps seeing a man carrying large boxes of Wheaties and a single gallon of milk would turn anyone's head. These simple day to day tasks we are able to do with such ease become an all day event to those who are mentally handicapped. Jacks job is not an easy one. I watch as he gets to a point where he is screaming and yelling at these four fully grown men as if they were children and I can see that this pressure is intense. My mother takes care of a man with down syndrome and I watch as she handles him so patiently. However, often times she comes home exhausted, physically and mentally drained and while she loves her job and the man she takes care of it in no way is easy. I can feel for Jack in this aspect and even relate to these moments where he losses his temper. In the same breath his reaction of anger towards these men break my heart when I read it. This part of the play shines light on how a parent of a special needs adult has to deal. Sadly most parents lack not only patience but in a way they seem inconvenienced by their children. I don't know if I am judging their behavior because I know its hard but I cannot imagine being that put out by my child who cannot even function in society by himself. After reading this act I have this weird feeling of sadness and yet understanding. I am trying to walk a mile in Jacks shoes, the four mens shoes, and in the shoes of these parents and I will be honest I am not sure if my journey has taken me a block just yet.

The Boys Next Door

This first act started off very differently. Hearing the title I expected something completely different than what I got. I assumed that it would be about this group of guys that have this tight knit friendship that was a result of living in the same neighborhood since birth. However, that is not what the play is about so far. We are briefly introduced to these characters who seem almost cruel. They get their usual entertainment off of making fun of mentally handicapped people. I have to be honest I have seen show after show make fun of the mentally handicapped but this struck a different cord. I am strating to see the authors writer's style. It is darker than I expected. He is taking this title and unfolding it for me. It proved to me that sometimes I tend to read plays wit hpeconcieved notions and for this very reason I must be able to look at things through a different lense. I am very attached to words on a page so reading these cruel things said to people who could not control their behavior. Some reason I hated reading such cruelty. Not that I enjoy visual seeing such pain because it breaks my heart, but my love for plays caught glimpse of a different scene then what I was used to. I had never seen or read a play where the usual entertainment was making fun of those who could not control their behavior due to their conditions. I had to look back and analyze how many times I have overlooked such behavior in the shows and movies I watched and for me,  The Boys Next Door brought some conviction to my heart. If act I had this effect I am curious to see act II brings me. I will just have to wait and read to see where this play ends up.

A Grief Observed Part 2

Chapters three and four of A Grief Observed dig deeper into the depths of despair that Lewis finds himself in. He questions the Lord's presence during this difficult time. He has not forgotten the Lord but he is finally having to put his faith in Christ into action. He discusses moments of grief that his friends have had to endure and how he could not really identify with what they were going through until he himself felt such the sting of death. H, I imagine was a beautiful woman. Not so much in the physical sense but in the depths of her personality. The way that C.S Lewis talks about this woman one would think she was his source of strength. He in no way makes her seem perfect, in fact he sees the both of them as sick and in need of a doctor. She is real, and I can picture her being his encouragement through difficult times. Up until this point they had one another to lean on through difficult times. His source of comfort is detached from him and now he must look upward for his strength, which is where it should always lie.
When one visits a cemetery they can expect two things, to see tombstones, and the realization that there are hundreds of dead people below their feet sets in rather quickly. If you think about this thought it is not as morbid as it is a sense of closure. I think people go to cemeteries for a lot of reasons. To pay respect to the dead, to visit a loved one lost, to expose an angry heart to a person who can no longer respond but listen. These are all reasons to go to a cemetery. For myself I go to feel peace. I find myself hiding this fact because most think this idea crazy. For me I look at it as a place where there is no need to rush time or worry about the list of things to do, the people here are no longer in this place. It is us who need this home. Their bodies are gone but we are left with this sense of openness, and when going to a cemetery we receive some closure. Their quietness releases the groans of our hearts. I knew no one in that cemetery but reading tombstones I tried to pretend the thoughts these families had as they watched these people being lowered into the ground. Such despair can be unfathomable but yet we do not die with them physically even thought there are parts of our soul that feel almost dead. I think this is what C.S Lewis is feeling, death to parts of his soul. Yet, he is becoming more alive in a sense. He no longer can hang onto H as his crutch. He can remember her and still love her but he has to reach this point of realization and peace. Her time spent here was beautiful but this life is only a mere glimpse into the one the Lord has prepared for us.

Additional Post on Joel

To make up for missing the art activity in class I decided to do a post about the book of Joel. There is so much to be said about this book. Some would look at this book and say that is has this darkness about it. I would say I agree. Joel has dark moments, moments that expose parts of the human mind that are often pushed aside. However, this book contains so much life. It holds hope for the future. It holds the cries of a God for His people. I think about my relationship with God in relationship with the people of Judea. The Lord has this open invitation for me to gather around the dinner table and I refuse to sometimes take a seat because things in my life seem more important at the time. While I know He loves me and desires me I am in no way deserving of the beautiful relationship He desires with me. I for the longest time would choose to push Him away because their were areas of forsaken within me. He beckoned me in with love and I find myself only sometimes responding. How sad is that? The creator of the universe wants to spend time with me and He has to take a backseat to my wants and desires. He is ever so patient with me. He is tender but yet quick to expose the areas that I need Him so desperately so. Oure relationship is growing into something beautiful. I am flawed, at times the stars seem to go black in my life but yet the hope He places in my heart is not only sustaining but life giving.


I will leave this blog post with these words of hope from the Lord to Joel and the people of Judea.
Joel 2:21-23
Do not be afraid, land of Judah;
   be glad and rejoice.
Surely the LORD has done great things!
 Do not be afraid, you wild animals,
   for the pastures in the wilderness are becoming green.
The trees are bearing their fruit;
   the fig tree and the vine yield their riches.
 Be glad, people of Zion, 

C.S Lewis

These first few pages of chapter one introduce my to a side of C.S Lewis that I had yet to experience. He is discussing one of the most desperate times of his life. He is to this point of grief that is causing such depression. His heart seems weary. "For those years H and I feasted on love,every mode of it solemn and merry, romantic and realistic, sometimes as dramatic as a thunderstorm, sometimes as comfortable and unemphatic as putting on your soft slippers." There are several things I wanted to identify out of this passage. First, I love the fact that he calls his wife H. I am unaware of her name in these first few pages and this makes it almost like a secret between him and his wife. It was something they shared that I am becoming apart of. Another thing I would like to point out is that he discusses love and all of its forms. He views it as both beautiful and tragic. It is this idea that we americans have that love is only kisses and hugs but clearly it is not simply JUST those things. It is about something deeper than that. The imagery of those pages really pop out to me and paint me this scene of beautiful tragedy.

C.S Lewis talks about God in these pages and it seems to me that despite his tragedy, He can still sense God. His heart is beyond broken but he has this hope in Christ even in the depths of his despair. It really is quite beautiful, having hope in God despite circumstances. He talks about reliving these moments in his head at which he can visually see H doing the simplest of things, but at the moment that idea of them make it feel so much more complex than that.
This book really is honesty, and in its transparency it is beautiful.

I think this book reminds me of This Blessed House in the way that some of the feelings Lewis is having of rethinking things reminds me of Sanjeev. He replayed memories in his head of how things are and how they previously were. He recalls the moment he fell in love with Twinkle and now he is questioning everything. I find this similar to the images and thoughts Lewis is having towards H. He knows that he loved her but he wonders if perhaps it is all just an illusion.

Illustration of Joel

Joel in itself is a very vivid and descriptive book. The imagery is absolutely beautiful. 
In the beginning of the book there is this depiction of locust swarming all around and devouring everything in site. I can see this beautiful land becoming desolate and barren in only a matter of minutes. I get this beautiful picture of luscious grapes. Purple and ripe, so colorful and then all of a sudden they wither up and turn to black shriveled pieces of nothingness.  Most of this book is full of pictures of once alive and vibrant objects now dead and no longer full of the life they once had. Joel is writing to an audience that like the grapes that I have described, they have fallen away and are so far from the Lord's desire for their lives. The scenes change in chapter 2 verse 12. He is now beckoning His people with a plead for them to turn back to Him. I can in these passages see parents calling out for their little girl that has gone missing and the cries of their heart are heard all around them. In these verses He is not showing His wrath and rightfully deserved anger but He is showing His heart that is full of love.


The picture that is painted in Joel can almost be one that is found in an illustrated novel. When I read Joel and mediate on the words I can close my eyes and I am there."The earth quakes before them; the heavens tremble. The sun and the moon are darkened,
and the stars withdraw their shining." These lines, although tragic, are painting a clear a precise picture. I can visually imagine the earth trembling( much like the hearts of those who are hearing these words). The sun and moon are darkened, what a sad day it would be without a sky full of stars.

Joel 2:12

 "Yet even now," declares the LORD,
"Return to Me with all your heart,
And with fasting, weeping and mourning;
 And rend your heart and not your garments "
 Now return to the LORD your God,
For He is gracious and compassionate,
Slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness
And relenting of evil"

These lines are so beautiful to me. When I read them I imagine the character of God. Even though Judah was in this state of turning their hearts away from God, He beckoned them in. The line "Return to me with all your heart" is in a sense breath taking. Its this idea of leaving the life that is currently occupying ones sene of being and returning to that which we are called to, a relationship with our ever present father. When I have done something wrong I often times am worried to tell my family about it. I try to avoid the conversation and take all of the possible avenues to avoid causing them worry. When I do finally muster enough courage to tell them something I am always surprised by the responses. Sometimes I get a sigh, other times I get a yell. However, when I come before God with these things I do not get a yell, or a cold shoulder but rather an open heart the beckons me in. "He is gracious and compassionate" those words are so full of truth that it will often at times overwhelm me when I read it. This is the standard at which we are to love, with grace and compassion. These convicting words are enough to send me to my knees. Not because I think God is angry with me but because His love and compassion despite my sin and shortcoming are even on my best day more than I deserve.
Slow to anger and, abounding in lovingkindness, this is the very nature of God. I fall more and more in love with Him when I read these lines.

"A Story about the Body"

This was a very confusing short story. I read the author's bio and I thought I would read this zen like piece of poetry. To my surprise I did not find anything to be that of poetic origins however I did learn that the man character was in a sense one of the shallowest men ever.
A women stands there in a very vulnerable, let me offer myself to this man, kinda way and he completely rejects her based on the fact that his preconceive notion about her body had been false. I visually see this woman ready to offer herself over, even after her body had been put to harsh extremes and his words cut deep. "I'm sorry, I don't think I could" reading these lines honestly evoked very strong emotions in me. Surgeries that involve removing ones breast are extreme and in a way de- womanizing. He is neither sensitive nor feeling in the way that one should be. It is not the fact that he rejects this woman but his rejection of her was based off of superficial reasoning.
I was disappointed by this story. In the same breath I wonder if the main character is just shallow or is he afraid that by sleeping with this woman he will destroy his view of the beauty he saw in her. Either way his reasoning seems to be cruel. I am not condoning lustful relationships but his motives and justification were very harsh, non sympathetic, and I would imagine that it left the woman feeling very broken.
I am not sure what exactly the bowl she leaves for him symbolizes but perhaps the bees were a sign of how stinging his words were. She may have even seen this sense of he seemed at first as appealing as a rose but as she dug deeper she saw what lied below the surface, a harsh, cold reality of who he really was. I imagine that he lives alone due to the fact that he is only able to love the surface of a person. I could be harsh in my assumptions but I feel as though the character is one that is written to evoke emotion.

"August" A short story

"Please tell me you know, I've got to let you go" these were the words that played in the back round as I pull out of the driveway. I found it coincidental, considering my initial motives for going to that graveyard. I looked at my hands that were covered in dirt unlike my heart that for once felt washed clean of these memories.

It was August 20,2009 the first time I saw Reed. He walked into class with bewilderment in his eyes. Unlike me, he didn't grow up in this small town and this scenery was new to him. He began to scan the room looking for a place to sit. Luckily the seat next to me was still up for grabs. I watched as he took those momentous twelve steps towards me. I cannot tell you what the topic of discussion in my world religions class was that day but the smell in the air was that of fresh linnen. 

I can't believe hes gone. I to tried wipe the tears that filled my eyes but all I seemed to do was wipe the mascara on my eyes even further down my face. "Its my fault, all of this is my fault." My mother reached out to embrace me but all I did was run out the door into our cow pasture. For once I was unable to admire the plush greenery all around me. All I could see was the cloudy view from behind my eyelids. I wanted to run forever but my run ended soon when I tripped over a shiny metal object in the ground.

He always carried that compass key chain with him, even at lunch. It baffled me because there never seemed to be keys on it. It just dangled back and forth. Pointing from north to south, east to west. Reed was a mystery. He saw me in the cafeteria and sat at a table facing towards me. It had been at least a week from our first encounter in world religions class so I thought, why not? I approached him and sat down right next to him. It was a bolder move than I usually made but he intrigued me so. Our conversation didn't just erupt like I thought it would. Surprisingly he just kept reading his book. I stared at the wore pages that he griped so tightly. Then because I am the most clever and articulate person ever, I asked "whatcha reading?" At that moment I wished to withdraw my comment. It sounded better in my head but now it was out there. He smiled and said "Moby Dick".His voiced surprised me. When I first saw him all I noticed was his dark hair, sun-kissed skin and his puce eyes. I thought he voice would be super deep and commanding but it was gentle, calming even. Taken aback I just smiled. He did as well pulling back  his face to reveal dimples and years of proof that the dentist is worth every penny.

I stopped in the road to collect my thoughts. "Why am I hear? I just drove an hour to see a person who I refused to say I love you to." These puzzling thoughts replayed over and over. With each thought I just continued to gaze at my nails that were still filled with dirt after I picked up that metal compass that lay in front of the tombstone.

She called me to come back in the house but I refused, I just continued to lay in the grass staring at his compass that he dropped during our last conversation. "It just is all to fast and I'm scared." At these words he shuffled dirt around his feet looked at me in the eyes whispered I love you and pulled away. If I knew this was the last time I would see him. I would of said what was on my heart. I would of told him that since I first saw him I knew. I would say so much more, but these cherished moments were that of memories. I could replay over and over again but that wouldn't make him dodge the car that hit him as he pulled away from my yard. Secretly I wished that I knew what the words he said to me mean't.

Our first date was not even awkward. Not like first dates should be. He didn't say much but I gabbed on about life, poetry, music, and even the little bit of politics I knew. He smiled, made a comment here and there, but mainly just showed me what a great listener he was. At the end of our date he was hesitant to hug me, afraid to be too forward I on the other hand leaned my weight into his arms and breathed in this moment that I wished would never end. However, it did. We pulled away from our hug and he smiled and said "goodnight". I had never known such perfection until I met Reed. That year was filled with so many memories, but that is all they were, memories. 

I arrived home at 8pm however, I could not move from my vehicle to the house. It hurt to even breathe. I realized that I had felt love grip me so close and I denied it even to myself. Fear kept me from revealing my heart to a person who held no limitations on his feelings. He let me experience such joy and in him I saw so much beauty. I touched the leathery wheel and ran my fingers through the cracks that were in my seat. Then I looked over in the passenger seat and I saw the compass. I reached my hand towards it and began to play with the needle. It moved back and forth, east to west, north to south. It was the last tangible thing I had left of him. But what would remain in my heart was that feeling of adventure that he gave me. "Discover" he said, "explore for if you don't this adventure called life will pass you by." So I started my car, put it in reverse and headed for an unknown destination, life. The compass on my dashboard leading the way as I rolled down the windows and let the wind breeze tousle my hair back and forth. For once I felt the way Reed had always felt, alive.

This Blessed House Cont.

Jhumpa Lahiri created something beautiful when she created the character of Twinkle. This character captured my heart when I read This Blessed House. Physically she could not be more beautiful. The whole dinner party discusses her beauty and people are constantly making comments to her husband on how beautiful she is.I envision her as this tan, petitie, indian women who is constantly moving in this harmonious rhythm. She is 27 years old but her spirt is much younger than that. She is currently a student working on her masters degree as is revealed through Sanjeev's thoughts during the dinner party. Apparently, Twinkle's family had abandoned her right before she and Sanjeev had gotten married and yet she seems to still be able to enjoy life.

Twinkle's character can be described as a free spirit. She is careless and throughout the story she seems not just easy amused but she is able to really appreciate every small but beautiful moment. From the way that she interacts with her husband she appears to be more of the "fun loving" one of the relationship.
I think in an unconventional way she loves her husband. He is very different from her and they are not the typical newlywed couple. I think from an outsiders point of view they seem like complete opposites. When I look deep within I can see that they are both dedicated to their relationship. Their love is not one of butterflies but that of commitment. Twinkle is passionate in life and I firmly believe she truly loves Sanjeev.

Something I have noticed about Twinkle is even though she is not a Christian she is respectful of what she finds in the house. I think her outlook on the world is that it is fulled with new things for her to learn about. She is eager to learn new things. Even beliefs that she does not necessarily follow.

I think an inner conflict Twinkle finds herself wrestling with is the idea that maybe her and Sanjeev are just too different. All throughout the story she seems to have opposing views with her husband and these conflicts have to make her wonder. I know she is pretty free spirited but there has to be these thoughts that her mind wrestles with. Can we make it? Am I just too wild for him?

I conclude with these thoughts, Twinkle is the reason I love this story so much. She is a beautiful, free sprited, kind, and a passionate woman. Her personality not only lights up a room but it has this sparkling effect. She is so full of life and reading this story made me want to grab a bottle of vingar and make something "magical".

This Blessed House

Unlike Raymond Carver's story, I enjoyed this story very much.
It starts off painting this scene of a newly married couple unpacking their belongings into a house that will one day hold more memories then things. Twinkle, the wife, becomes enamored with this bottle of vinegar she finds in the kitchen. Her husband is clearly not as excited about it but through this it draws out the type of people that they both are. I see Twinkle, as this indian, free spirited woman. Her husband Sanjeev a bit more contained.

The magic of this story begins when Twinkle begins finding these "presents" left throughout the house. When I was reading this I imagined a little girl holding a treasure map and upon each finding her face is glowing with excitement. I honest viewed Sanjeev as this reserved man wanting nothing to do with Christianity, as the story continues my view begins to change. I begin to see him as the guy who holds to not only tradition but sticks to what is familiar. Part of me wondered if he stuck to being a muslim because it was what he knew for so long.Twinkle begins to embrace the different things she finds in the house and to her, this faith of the previous owners begins to make her a bit more than just curious.
My favorite part of this story is when she is bathing and her husband walks in to throw away the overly sized Mary statue and I watch as Twinkle fills with rage. She storms down the stairs and you see and hear the most beautiful, intense, display of passion. Her husband for the first time can see her eyes filled so full of love and desire for something that he is swayed to surrender this battle. It was not just a dispute over artwork but a display of love.

The scene changes to a party where these statues of various saints are displayed. I can feel Sanjeev's uncomfortable, tense, pauses. He does not want these statues but he also wants to make his wife happy. I find it so interesting that these statues have him looking back into his motives of marrying Twinkle and what it was that caused him to "fall in love" with her. The flashbacks lead him to this moment; she is a rarity, a gem, and he is lucky to be with her. However, the way that the story ends has me wondering if he has just agreed with her keeping the statues in order to avoid argument.

When this story ended I tried to paint a "more complete" ending in my head. I can envision it now, the guests have left and bits of trash are scattered throughout the living room. It does not look like a brothel but it clearly is not neat and tidy according to Sanjeev's standards. I can see them looking are each other, smiling and falling back into the couch. They close their eyes and take a deep breath and replay the flashbacks of how they arrived to this point of their relationships. These flashbacks are not ones of regret but they are glimpses of the love they have for one another.

Reading for Transformation/Darkness, Questions, Poetry and Spiritual Hope

I remember the first time I ever participated in Lectio. I was a freshman in college and I was sitting in a dimly lit office with a group of girls studying the importance of praying the scriptures. I remember how slow we went over the passage. This article described what Lectio is and the significance in each part.
Lectio: begin with silence.  
Meditatio: reading each line of the poem and reflecting on words, phrases, metaphors etc.
Oratio: addressing God in personal prayers.
Contemplatio: sitting quietly in silence.
These steps drastically changed the way I approached scripture. What I mean is I was always able to get something out of scripture but this made me pause and deeply reflect on what I was reading. I was able to really absorb the words that were written many years ago that still hold so much truth today.
"When we pray with poetry, whether the biblical poetry of the Psalms or non- biblical poetry open to Christian appropriation, we open ourselves to the possibility of spiritual experience." This quote stood out to me as I was reading the text. I love knowing that I can apply a spiritual discipline to all types of literary texts. Lectio in some ways, opens the meaning of words that are often overlooked in our day to day reading.

The next article I found interesting. A section discussed dispair and I had just recently finished A Sickness unto Death by Soren Kierkegaard. What was interesting was the different viewpoints I received. Soren feels that despair is a sin, Corrigan views it as something we all have to identify with at some point in our lives. To truly know hope we must have experienced the contrast to that. I really appreciated how personal this article was. By reading the tragedies that occurred in the professors life I was able to identify with my own feelings of grief and despair at different points in my life.

Both articles said different things but the theme was the same. How can you get the most out of a literary text? Whether this text is Christian literature or not there are meanings in words that need to be discovered

Raymond Carver

The story begins with this scene: friends sitting in a kitchen drinking gin. I began to think it would start with them discussing their afternoons but immediately I am taken to this scene of violence. Terri tells this story of a horrible tragic night that almost took her life. Her perception drove her to believe that this behavior was love in a weird, twisted, and polluted kind of way. She in my opinion had a warped view of things. I am not even sure if she thought the behavior when he was drunk was love, as much as she believed that his sober moments were ones filled with love due to him being in a conscious and more aware state. However, if he truly loved Terri, he would not become so inebriated that he was acting contradictory to love.  I am sure at one point when he was sober it may of felt like love but when someone acts like this love becomes nothing other than a word. Yet, through all of the pain that was caused to Terri she had a desire to be next to him when he gasped his last breath. It makes me think was this love or madness? Or is it possible that love gone wrong can turn into death?
I can view this scene so clearly in my head. Two couples sitting in the kitchen looking at one another discussing love while consuming alcohol that is probably causing them to release more information than normally. Its this contrast of scene in which a couple has been married for years and the other just getting started in a sense. Due to this time frame their views on love are seemingly different. One couple is excited on spending the rest of life together, the other is contemplating if "true love" even exists.

This story really made me dislike Mel. I feel as though Terri jumped from a physically abuse relationship to a verbally abusive one all. I see many contradictions to this story. These couples are discussing love but all I see in Mel is selfishness. Perhaps this is their problem with the idea of love. If their emotions towards one another is skewed how can they possibly have a healthy functioning relationship. This couple that sits with them (Laura and Ed) I can tell as the conversation continues they would rather be anywhere but there. When I am reading this story I wish I could extract them and move them to a place where their exposure as a new married couple is not one that is so polluted, but that would not be reality.

What you Get Out of What you Read is Determined by How you Read

This statement holds the key to unlocking a lot of misconceptions that has surrounded literature. Upon arriving to college I did not spend my days reading Soren Kierkegaard, Tolstoy, James Smith or many other deep theological thinkers. When I began to read Radical Orthodoxy  I found myself in the deep end of a swimming pool without floaties. I was a bit overwhelmed. I knew these authors were pouring truth into my life but I wasn't able to quite catch everything that was being thrown at me. In class I was able to dive into discussion but when I would read I could not quite comprehend everything that was being said. My professors said the books would be challenging and that they would stretch our minds ( they were absolutely correct). I found myself turn from someone who always loved reading and naturally comprehended the material to someone whose head was spinning after just a few pages. I was not able to go through books with the same stamina I once had.

I thought, "there has to be a different way". I had to change my approach and I am still adjusting it to become a more effective and active reader. I find myself rereading things and looking at commentaries for some of the passages that I am still unable to fully grasp. I have to slow down my pace so that I am able to fully comprehend all that is being said. To be honest, this is a practice I have yet to fully master. However, growth only occurs through perseverance.

I continue on this journey of learning what it means to be an active participant in my reading not just a skeptic that does not fully engage with the literature in front of them. This chapter really encouraged me to grow and change the different ways I approach literature, whether it be an assignment for class or something I read just because.

Literary Profile

Thinking back to my childhood I remember not just one exposure to reading but several. My parents never read bedtime stories to us but my dad would play old hymns on the guitar while I sang words with more meaning then I was able to fully grasp just yet. Those memories are brought back every time I sing As a Deer Panteth, when I hear those words I can close my eyes and visualize my bedroom where my love for literature was born. I can remember picking up my first Dr. Seuss book and being blown away by the colorful and rather clever rhyming scheme. I fell in love with reading after this and began to pick up book after book to satisfy this growing hunger within. I then stumbled upon Rainbow fish and Where the Wild Things are. Picture after picture, line after line I was consumed.

Recently I have been reading A Wild Goose Chase by Mark Batterson. It is quite a change from Oh the Places You'll Go, and the emotions that I receive from this book are a little different but the literature is just as alive. It is about the Holy Spirit and as I read these pages I feel His presence so strongly. It encourages me to continuously pray and go after the adventures the Lord places on my heart.

I remember picking up The Way of the Heart by Henri Nouwen I had no idea the impact that this book would leave on me. It was a summer assignment that changed the way I looked at prayer. It took a look at Brother Lawrence and the desert fathers in a way that I had never explored before. These men withdrew themselves from comfort, from what was familiar to be completely alone with the Lord. They devoted themselves to prayer and time with the Lord, even if that meant relinquishing their words and listening to His. This book discusses prayer, silence, and solitude. Every word was inspiring and convicting all at the same time. Books like this just reestablished my love for words.

When I first read the assigned reading I thought it would be another general piece of information that I couldn't get much out of. However, it was very descriptive and the passion for writing and literature was clearly shown. I was able to break down not only the grading process, but what was expected to be gained out of the class. I thought it was informative and thankfully it answered questions I had previous to reading it.