"There are three things which are never satisfied, four things which never say, 'Enough.':
The grave;
and the barren womb;
the land which is not filled with water;
and the fire, which never says, 'Enough.'
The eye that mocks his father and despises to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.
There are three things which are too wonderful for me, four which I know not:
The way of an eagle in the air;
the way of a serpent on a rock;
the way of a ship in the middle of the sea;
and the way of a man with a young woman."
"Under three things the earth trembles, under four it cannot bear:
Under a servant when he reigns;
and a fool who receives plenty to eat;
under a shameful woman when she is married;
and a servant who replaces her mistress.
There are four things which are little upon the earth, but they are exceedingly wise:
The ants are not a strong people, yet they prepare their food in the summer;
the conies but a feeble folk, yet they make their homes in the rocks;
the locusts have no king, yet they forth together in ranks;
the lizard can be held with the hands, yet it is found in kings' palaces.
There are three things which go well in their stride, four which move with stately bearing:
The lion which is mighty among beasts and who turns away for nothing;
the strutting rooster and the male goat;
and the king, against whom there is no revolt."
This is absolutely beautiful. There is more within this chapter which I encourage you to read, but I decided to share these lists.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Please Read
I am sharing a video with you of a sermon that a man by the name of John Piper gave concerning the issue of abortion. It is a powerful message and I recommend that you watch it. I am also going to post the link to a video that shows an actual abortion taking place. It is very graphic and in warning I share that it begins immediately. I had a hard time watching it, but I do ask that you watch it whether you are "pro-choice" or "pro-life." It is informing and I do believe that anyone reading this should strongly consider viewing it. The sermon video is below and the video link is found here: http://www.abortionno.org/
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
"Dance on My Heart," by Allen Koepke (with recording)
Once two handsome gentlemen asked a fair young maid a question:
"What must we do to win your hand and gain your kind affection?"
One said he was "stronger by far," than any other man that she'd meet.
Also being braver than most, said, "Please marry me- I'm adoringly sweet."
Then, said the other, "What if I give you diamonds and pearls, would you be my bride?
I can offer power and riches. All through your life you'll be satisfied!"
"Well," she replied, "I'd make my selection,
and you'd receive my love and affection
if you danced on my heart, if you sang to my soul.
But alas! My heart is not pounding
and your songs are not sounding.
Therefore, I cannot marry you."
Then a kindly gentleman asked the fair young maid the question:
"What must I do to win your hand and gain your kind affection?
I can only promise to love you, be at your side through all of my life.
I will be your faithful companion! Come take my hand, say you'll be my wife."
"What must we do to win your hand and gain your kind affection?"
One said he was "stronger by far," than any other man that she'd meet.
Also being braver than most, said, "Please marry me- I'm adoringly sweet."
Then, said the other, "What if I give you diamonds and pearls, would you be my bride?
I can offer power and riches. All through your life you'll be satisfied!"
"Well," she replied, "I'd make my selection,
and you'd receive my love and affection
if you danced on my heart, if you sang to my soul.
But alas! My heart is not pounding
and your songs are not sounding.
Therefore, I cannot marry you."
Then a kindly gentleman asked the fair young maid the question:
"What must I do to win your hand and gain your kind affection?
I can only promise to love you, be at your side through all of my life.
I will be your faithful companion! Come take my hand, say you'll be my wife."
"Sir," she replied, "you are my selection,
and you'll receive my love and affection
for you dance on my heart, you sing to my soul.
I'll take your hand,
wear your wedding band.
Yes, kind sir, I will marry you!"
Above is a recording of "Dance on My Heart," beautifully performed by The West Plains High School Women's Chorus.
Friday, January 6, 2012
"One Boy Told Me," Video & "Famous," by Naomi Shihab Nye
Famous
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.
I want to be famous in the way the pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.
This is a link to see a video of the writer (Naomi Shihab Nye) reading her piece, "One Boy Told Me." Video provided the Poetry Foundation.
(Video produced by WGBH & David Grubin Productions, fimmaker Leitra Luchetti, & student filmmakers at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee's docUWM media center.)
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.
I want to be famous in the way the pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.
This is a link to see a video of the writer (Naomi Shihab Nye) reading her piece, "One Boy Told Me." Video provided the Poetry Foundation.
(Video produced by WGBH & David Grubin Productions, fimmaker Leitra Luchetti, & student filmmakers at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee's docUWM media center.)
A Children's Garden of Poetry: The Poetry Foundation; Daffodils, The Tropics in New York, & Hope Is the Thing With Feathers
"Daffodils," by William Wordsworth. Read by Dave Matthews.
"The Tropics in New York," by Claude McKay. Read by Ziggy Marley.
"Hope Is the Thing With Feathers," by Emily Dickinson. Read by Claire Danes and signed by Rachel (age 9).
Each is a link to small clips from a "movie," I watched last night. It's thirty minutes long, but it's absolutely wonderful and I highly recommend it. It was created by The Poetry Foundation, it's called "A Children's Garden of Poetry." I really, really enjoyed it and actually plan to watch it for the second time this evening. It is available for order on Netflix and I know that it can also be purchased on Amazon. I want it! Again, this is a tiny bit that only shows a couple sides to this video. I encourage you to watch the full thing any time you get a chance. You won't regret it!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Darrell the Ghost (Written by Penny Hickenbothom)
I recently found an author of adorable and quirky short stories named Penny Hickenbothom. She writes in an almost amateur way, child-like and creative, slightly reminding me of an author by the name of Barbara Park. Park wrote a series called Junie B. Jones, and when I was younger I read that series religiously. I still love the books a ton. Anyhow, I'd like to share a couple of Ms. Hickenbothom's stories with you. The first is entitled, "Darrell the Ghost." Enjoy!
Darrell is a ghost. He lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the second tallest building in the ninth largest city in the United States. Down in the floor underneath Darrell's floor lives a little boy who is nine and three quarters and is so excited because he knows that soon he will be ten years old! He will pretty much be all grown up. Sometimes though, the little boy doesn't feel grown up. Especially when he's trying to go to sleep. It's not the boy's fault though- really! Darrell likes to float in and fly around his room and whisper and make funny noises, and it really scares the little boy. Normally the little boy gets under the covers and talks to himself until he passes out, but one night he decided that enough was enough. Darrell was not going to bother him anymore! So he waited, and when Darrell came to him, the little boy told him that he wasn't going to let him scare him anymore. Well, Darrell didn't like that. He started screaming and wailing and just being a big 'ole meanie. So the little boy did the only thing he knew to do: he went and got his dad. Maybe- maybe he was too old to get in bed with his parents, but he knew he wasn't too old for his dad to come. So he ran to his dad's room and said,
"Daddy, there's a mean ghost in my room and I can't go to sleep..." So his dad got up and went and sat with his little son.
The dad sat and talked to his boy and told him stories about when he was a little boy and how his dad would rub his head and talk to him, and then his dad told him about how strong he is, and then, because the boy was still awake, the dad began to sing to him in his deep, baritone voice. Maybe it was the nice, calming tune, or maybe it was the sound of his father's voice, but the little boy knew that the feel of his father's low humming rumbling against his ear was the most warm and relaxing feeling, and soon the boy was sound-asleep. The boy's dad then slipped away to his warm room and thought of his own dad... And while everyone slipped into their dreams, Darrell just sat and smiled.
This next story didn't appear to have a title, so I'll just present the goods!
There is a big building in which children come to learn every single day. We come because we're told that attendance is crucial for our future, because our parents expect it- but mostly because if we don't, we will be punished by death! Going into this building would not be so awful in itself except the building has no windows. Apparently windows promote daydreaming, which leads to time being wasted... That's something that I've always had trouble coming to full grips with. My day dreams are my freedom to a deeper level of my mind: an avenue into my soul. So I dream. It was quite an amazing discovery one day to find that the bathroom in the hallway of the top floor had a stall at the end with a ginormous window! It was locked shut and the glass was fogged over, so even though it allowed in light, staring out wasn't an option. Sitting there feeling more distressed than ever before, I'd noticed the locks were very rusty. It took no strength at all to get the window open! Immediately a gust of clean, unfiltered, invisible air teared my eyes and brushed my face! Opening it more, I could see a field with two or three trees blowing gently, showing no resistance to what the breeze demanded of them. My eyes were as wide as I could make them, trying to get as much of this sight in as I could possibly pull through that window. It didn't feel like I was stealing the sight; it was more like I was sharing with the life outside of this hard building. Realizing I had no more time, I pulled my pants up, and like many other eight year old boys, I forgot to zip them properly. Rushing into my art class, my evil art teacher showed me one of her terrible faces and proceeded to yell as the whole class could hear what she said... That is all but me. Seeing that sight was all I needed! I was addicted to that one breath of freedom far from that cold art classroom. The paint colors were pale and left wanting. As soon as class was over I ran back to that bathroom. I know, it's just school! Why couldn't I have just waited 'til school was over? Because as an eight year old, seven hours of school felt like an entire period of seven days! Well after a couple of weeks of my sneaking off, my friends got suspicious. They followed me one day, and when they discovered what I was doing, they tried to stop me, but quickly I realized that they wanted in. Now by this time I had made myself a little home in that stall! The toilet was replaced by a bean bag chair, the walls had been painted a nice green, and I kept a candle burning at all times. I was hesitant to share my slice of heaven with my friends, mostly because of all I had done to make it mine.
Who am I to keep this window from them? I thought. So I began to allow them time to stare and daydream to their hearts' desire!- for one quarter every minute. This I did feel bad about, but candles are not cheap! Sadly, things don't last forever. One day I went to my beloved double wide bathroom stall with a window to find it was locked. What! Nobody uses this without my permission! I waited and waited, for like fifteen seconds, and then I knocked. I heard a flush and out wheeled a handicapped kid. He had a smirk on his face!
"What are you smiling about, rolly!" He wheezed and then just pointed. My stall had been changed back to how it was when I found it. Except one thing: the window was boarded up!
"No!" I screamed. The handicapped kid cackled and did donuts in his chair. My friends and evil teacher ran in and all started laughing at me and calling me names, so I quickly stuffed toilet paper in all the toilets, flooded them, and broke through the window! The fall was painful, but the sweetness of freedom was better! I made it away and lived in a tree fort! Eventually some of my friends joined me. Rumor was that rolly drowned that day. I didn't care. I was free to daydream all day long!
Darrell is a ghost. He lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the second tallest building in the ninth largest city in the United States. Down in the floor underneath Darrell's floor lives a little boy who is nine and three quarters and is so excited because he knows that soon he will be ten years old! He will pretty much be all grown up. Sometimes though, the little boy doesn't feel grown up. Especially when he's trying to go to sleep. It's not the boy's fault though- really! Darrell likes to float in and fly around his room and whisper and make funny noises, and it really scares the little boy. Normally the little boy gets under the covers and talks to himself until he passes out, but one night he decided that enough was enough. Darrell was not going to bother him anymore! So he waited, and when Darrell came to him, the little boy told him that he wasn't going to let him scare him anymore. Well, Darrell didn't like that. He started screaming and wailing and just being a big 'ole meanie. So the little boy did the only thing he knew to do: he went and got his dad. Maybe- maybe he was too old to get in bed with his parents, but he knew he wasn't too old for his dad to come. So he ran to his dad's room and said,
"Daddy, there's a mean ghost in my room and I can't go to sleep..." So his dad got up and went and sat with his little son.
The dad sat and talked to his boy and told him stories about when he was a little boy and how his dad would rub his head and talk to him, and then his dad told him about how strong he is, and then, because the boy was still awake, the dad began to sing to him in his deep, baritone voice. Maybe it was the nice, calming tune, or maybe it was the sound of his father's voice, but the little boy knew that the feel of his father's low humming rumbling against his ear was the most warm and relaxing feeling, and soon the boy was sound-asleep. The boy's dad then slipped away to his warm room and thought of his own dad... And while everyone slipped into their dreams, Darrell just sat and smiled.
This next story didn't appear to have a title, so I'll just present the goods!
There is a big building in which children come to learn every single day. We come because we're told that attendance is crucial for our future, because our parents expect it- but mostly because if we don't, we will be punished by death! Going into this building would not be so awful in itself except the building has no windows. Apparently windows promote daydreaming, which leads to time being wasted... That's something that I've always had trouble coming to full grips with. My day dreams are my freedom to a deeper level of my mind: an avenue into my soul. So I dream. It was quite an amazing discovery one day to find that the bathroom in the hallway of the top floor had a stall at the end with a ginormous window! It was locked shut and the glass was fogged over, so even though it allowed in light, staring out wasn't an option. Sitting there feeling more distressed than ever before, I'd noticed the locks were very rusty. It took no strength at all to get the window open! Immediately a gust of clean, unfiltered, invisible air teared my eyes and brushed my face! Opening it more, I could see a field with two or three trees blowing gently, showing no resistance to what the breeze demanded of them. My eyes were as wide as I could make them, trying to get as much of this sight in as I could possibly pull through that window. It didn't feel like I was stealing the sight; it was more like I was sharing with the life outside of this hard building. Realizing I had no more time, I pulled my pants up, and like many other eight year old boys, I forgot to zip them properly. Rushing into my art class, my evil art teacher showed me one of her terrible faces and proceeded to yell as the whole class could hear what she said... That is all but me. Seeing that sight was all I needed! I was addicted to that one breath of freedom far from that cold art classroom. The paint colors were pale and left wanting. As soon as class was over I ran back to that bathroom. I know, it's just school! Why couldn't I have just waited 'til school was over? Because as an eight year old, seven hours of school felt like an entire period of seven days! Well after a couple of weeks of my sneaking off, my friends got suspicious. They followed me one day, and when they discovered what I was doing, they tried to stop me, but quickly I realized that they wanted in. Now by this time I had made myself a little home in that stall! The toilet was replaced by a bean bag chair, the walls had been painted a nice green, and I kept a candle burning at all times. I was hesitant to share my slice of heaven with my friends, mostly because of all I had done to make it mine.
Who am I to keep this window from them? I thought. So I began to allow them time to stare and daydream to their hearts' desire!- for one quarter every minute. This I did feel bad about, but candles are not cheap! Sadly, things don't last forever. One day I went to my beloved double wide bathroom stall with a window to find it was locked. What! Nobody uses this without my permission! I waited and waited, for like fifteen seconds, and then I knocked. I heard a flush and out wheeled a handicapped kid. He had a smirk on his face!
"What are you smiling about, rolly!" He wheezed and then just pointed. My stall had been changed back to how it was when I found it. Except one thing: the window was boarded up!
"No!" I screamed. The handicapped kid cackled and did donuts in his chair. My friends and evil teacher ran in and all started laughing at me and calling me names, so I quickly stuffed toilet paper in all the toilets, flooded them, and broke through the window! The fall was painful, but the sweetness of freedom was better! I made it away and lived in a tree fort! Eventually some of my friends joined me. Rumor was that rolly drowned that day. I didn't care. I was free to daydream all day long!
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