Pause

Hello, my wonderful readers. You guys rock! I really appreciate you taking the time to listen to my thoughts on a weekly basis.

Because I am entering a very busy season of time, teaching, preparing to leave for Asia, support-raising, etc. I have decided it would be best for me to take an extended break from this blog.

I hope to resume blogging either this summer or when I head out to language school in China this fall (at which point I'll have lots of interesting Chinese words to weave into my posts!)

Blessing to you all. Go where God takes you!

-Elizabeth

Hatting Freely

"So Christ has truly set us free. Now make sure that you stay free, 

and don’t get tied up again in slavery to the law."

~Galatians 5:1

 

 
Alice leans in to admire the Hatter's creations.

"It is good to be working at my trade again," he says.

"It's just a pity you have to make them for her," replies Alice.

She's right. The Hatter has the freedom to create, to beautifully fulfill his calling as hat-maker. He'd almost forgotten the chain around his ankle; forgotten that he's slaving for the bulbous-headed Red Queen, who prefers to be feared rather than loved.

Recently, I passed the brand-new Mormon temple just south of my city. Arches on arches tier up and pinnacle with a stunning gold Angel Moroni. The commissioners and builders must be proud. And unaware of their invisible ankle-chains.

It's not enough to do what we were made to do. We were designed to offer our talents freely, not under compulsion. That is how we will fulfill our callings in heaven, bringing glory to the One who gave both talents and freedom. Which is why Satan schemes so actively to create passable counterfeits, and why we must refuse to be burdened again by the yoke of slavery.

A! Eh?

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, 

as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms.

-1 Peter 4:10

This week I offer a poem I wrote in 2008. I now find myself on the giving end of grades, and this is a good reminder that As have never been the goal of life.

A! Eh?

Another paper handed back

Like every other day

I hardly glace to see that I received

Another A

Getting grades is bittersweet

A mix of pride and apathy

And, as a result, shame

Feeling the touch of injustice from an unexpected side

What of the others?

Did they not try?

I know they studied just as hard

But I’ve the A. Why?

“Just accept it as a gift”

“Use your mind to save the poor”

Each voice, a different opinion

Each voice, a different blur

I take the gift to the one who gave it

“What would you have me do?

I could use an owner’s manual

To teach me proper care and use.”

A comprehensive manual

You did not have in mind

So I’ll take a lamp to guide my feet

And for the present, write.

-23 November 2008

Payback

For what the Law could not do, weak as it was through the flesh, God did: 

sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and as an offering for sin, 

He condemned sin in the flesh,

so that the requirement of the Law might be fulfilled in us, 

who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.

~Romans 8: 3-4 

"How much did they refund you?" My mom asked.

"$3.74," I grumbled. "But I spent $10.79 for the return shipping. Ugh. I don't want to deal with this anymore."

Through the wonder of modern mass shipping, I had twice been falsely alarmed that my frankincense oil had arrived. When I shipped the erroneous oils back, helpful-customer-service lady had assured me I would be reimbursed.

"What's the difference?" Mom questioned.

"$7.05," I sighed. "I should just say I don't care, just forgive them the seven dollars."

And I did.

But thirty seconds later, I discovered I hadn't. This is silly, Elizabeth, it's just seven dollars. Let it go. But it wasn't fair, and somehow my heart needed it to be rectified.

"I really just don't want to deal with asking them for the extra postage. It's been such a hassle already," I responded to Mom's unasked question.

"You really like that company, don't you? I don't want you to have bad feelings about them. What if I gave you the $7.05 instead of them. Would that help?"

"No, that's silly. But...actually...that might work."

I laughed at myself as Mom dug around her black purse for three bills and five elusive pennies.

"I hereby present this to you in the name of your oil company." She bowed slightly as she gifted me the cash.

"And I accept it on their behalf," I smiled.

As silly as it seemed, her gift really did make all the difference. My heart was satisfied that life was fair. And I bought more oils from my company.

*****

Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.

Sickness!

Sorry I have not posted yet this week. 

I have been out of commission with sickness. 

I will post again next week!

Safety Thunder

The LORD thundered from heaven;

 the voice of the Most High resounded amid the hail and burning coals.

~Psalm 18:13

I wrote this piece in 2009.

I love thunderstorms. They make me feel comfortable and safe and perfectly peaceful.

           

When I was young, perhaps 4 or 5 years old, thunderstorms were enough to occasion family meetings. No planning, no finding time around too-crowded schedules, no set time to leave. When God started bowling, we all went out to watch.

Thunder was the sound of God’s bowling ball smacking his heavenly pins. The lightning flashes, of course, were the sparks from this collision. It took time for the sound to get here, my Dad informed me: a sort of semi-truth mixed with myth. God always made strikes. Looking back, I can’t see how I ever reconciled the bowling theory with my equally firm belief that rain was God taking a shower. Perhaps he just left the water running.

When God made his first strike, I assume that, like most children, I was frightened and ran to my mom. But once with her, all was well. Better than well, for the thunder meant that it was time to gather all the blankets carelessly strewn among the couches and toys in the family room and create a nest on our covered porch. With her back to the house, my mom would cuddle me in her lap. Dad would hold my hand, his other arm wrapped around Mom’s shoulders. Sometimes my sisters or brother would come too, but my Mom and Dad are the immovable pillars of the scene.

I am sure that with the wind driving the rain at a slant, my parents’ feet got soaked through the blankets. But they never complained and I never knew. All I knew was that thunder meant warmth, thunder meant family, thunder meant safety.

           

No Spoilers

Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

-James 4:14

 

"I can't believe that Kylo Ren burst into that creepy rendition of 'Let It Go' at the end of the movie!" Sam shouted.

Yesterday I saw The Force Awakens. If you haven't seen it yet, don't worry, I'll abide by the title of this post. Except to assure you that Elsa's song did NOT make an appearance.

As we left the theater, Sam loudly pronounced his shock over laughably untrue spoilers, just to confuse movie goers who were already filling the seats for the next showing.

Which got me thinking, why do we hate spoilers so much? Why don't we want someone to tell us the outcome, good or bad, in an upcoming movie? Why do we avoid Facebook on the release date of a big film we haven't seen? Don't we want to know what happens?

Of course we want to know, but even more than that, we want to see. To experience the emotion of the characters, to cry when Wallace sacrifices himself, to cheer tragically when Gaston slips, to rejoice when Aslan resurrects.

Why then, do we take the opposite approach to life?

God, who will I marry? How long will I live in this city? Will my children follow you when they grow up? When are you coming back? And could you please give me a detailed timeline of important events between now and then?

God is not fooled by our begging. He tells no one the day or the hour, their number of hairs, or the weather tomorrow. And deep down, we don't want him to. It would ruin the surprise. So today, let us live life as it comes, rejoicing and weeping as God directs, trusting him to weave an even better story than The Force Awakens.

Merry Christmas!

"The Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means 'God is with us')."

-Isaiah 7:14 

I'm taking this week off in honor of the holiday. I hope you are doing something special as well!

Laws and Baseball Bats

I've been in a bit of a down mood lately. Here's a Dave-Barry-inspired humorous piece I wrote in 2009, in case you've been feeling the same. Enjoy!

Laws and Baseball Bats

            Hello there and welcome to Science Class 101! Today’s Fascinating Topic of Discussion (during which you will probably nod off) is: Newton’s Three Laws of Physics! That’s right. These Laws are so powerful and inescapable that you are probably snoring with your head on your desk in a pool of your own saliva from the mere thought of them, which goes to show that you are still obeying Newton’s Law of Gravity, a sort of Bonus Law scientists awarded him when they saw how clever his first three were. See how oppressive our scientific system is? You’re still following a law awarded years ago to some dead guy who wore a wig.

            I think it is unfair that Newton gets three laws all to himself, while I, though I have just as many, if not more, cleverly worded sayings, cannot have even one law. Newton refuses to share a law with me, and, given the current state of his mind, is not likely to budge from his position on the issue. This is a shame, because I have already thought of several good ones, such as my Law of Neutrality, my Law of Electrolytes, and my Law requiring people engaged in tooth-brushing to stay in the part of the house designated for disgusting activities (directly in front of the bathroom sink), which would prevent the increase of minty-smelling saliva specks in other, more habitable, parts of the home.

            So here we are today, discussing Newton’s Laws, instead of mine. Newton’s First Law of Physics states, “An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.” This means that you will keep your head on your desk until some unbalanced force, like me with a baseball bat, sneaks up behind you and shoves you in a menacing manner. At the approach of this unbalanced force, you will cease to remain at rest but will sit bolt upright and focus on my discussion of Newton’s next two Laws.

            Newton’s Second Law of Physics required slightly more insight, and probably caused Newton to sweat profusely into his wig and have it sent off to the 17^th Century Wig Cleaners Guild. The result of this sweat was the following: “Acceleration is produced when a force acts on a mass. The greater the mass, the greater the amount of force needed.” This Law results in a nifty little equation, F=ma, in which F stands for force, m for mass, and a for acceleration, though if the letters stood for fights, muscles, and annoying little brothers the equation would still hold true.

            Newton’s Third Law took him no time at all to create. It is, in fact, quite obvious to any parent of teenage boys. This Law, “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction,” shows why, if you ask your teenage son to empty the trashcan, he will, without fail, get up and move away from the trashcan toward the stairs up to his room, claiming he has some urgent homework he had forgotten about until just that moment. It also shows that Newton had a teenage son.

            So there you have them. Newton’s Three Laws of Physics, constantly explaining why everyone in the world behaves as bizarrely as they do. You may now feel free to stand up and resume your normal mental functions. No really, you should, because your teenage son IS STANDING RIGHT BEHIND YOU WITH A BASEBALL BAT.

To an Aging Lover

"Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first."
Revelation 2:4

 Today we go back to a Shakespearean-style sonnet I wrote in 2010.

Your love is a bloom that’s crunchy and dried

From rosy to brown: You left it to rot.

The yestereve of yestereve it died

Like the lonely lover you forgot.

Your love is iron crunched over by rust:

A steel sword to slice through medieval foes.

It beat off dragons and lions and dust

But caked in winters of winters it froze.

Your love is wind: it dusts crunchy, dry air

That used to loft scents of flowery spring.

It bites your bronzed skin, your lips, your teased hair,

Your fingers that will never fit into rings.

Just as lives wax in order to wane

So with your love: its life was its bane.

The Effect of Christmas Trees upon Broken Vacuums

On Saturday, my mother and I crept into our freezing garage, dusted off cardboard boxes, heaved them upstairs, and splashed our walls with green, gold, red, and silver. Most of the decorations went up easily enough, curling up in last year’s allotted slot, but a few needed creative placement. When the last box was empty, I sneezed and slunched into an armchair.

But only for a minute. I wanted the house to look nice, but open boxes and countless fallen plastic pine needles stood between me and my goal. With a final effort, I forced myself to take out the vacuum while Mom put the boxes away.

VAROOM! said the vacuum. But the needles refused to leave their comfy carpet home. I peeked under the vacuum and sighed, exasperated. The brush roll stood motionless.

I gave myself a pep talk. Ok, fine, I can fix the belt. I can do it. I braved the cold garage again, this time for a screwdriver. Four screws later, I discovered that the belt had not merely slipped off its shaft, but had cracked and broken.

Gah! Fine! The needles win! Frustrated and drained, I gave up. I turned on the Christmas tree lights, turned off the room lights, and sat.

In the warm glow of hundreds of minute, colorful suns, the needles didn’t look as prickly and disappointing, and the upside-down vacuum seemed more peaceful. I noticed the star on top of our tree, just above a small nativity ornament.

In light of that nativity, I saw how utterly ridiculous I was to be angry at a broken vacuum. I laughed at myself.

God, how incredible you are. How unimaginable your gifts. In comparison, clean houses are less than plastic pine needles. Forgive me. And thank you. Thank you so much.

*****

Turns out God cares about little things, too. When I showed the vacuum to my father, he said that yes, of course we have an extra belt in (you guessed it) the garage. Fifteen minutes later, God had added one clean carpet to the extensive list of gifts he’s showered on me.