Well it's been far far too long since the last time I "blogged." Hmmmm.
Allow me to explain...
I got found by this certain guy that seemed to find the fact that I adore trucks irresistible. He also didn't run away when I planted my pontiac in a whole mess of mud in the yard.
Odd.
I gotta keep this guy!
The only hangup is; I get very little done these days! My existence has undergone an extreme change and I'm oh so not used to this. I love it! Me...the "perpetually busy one" is spending so much time actually enjoying someone else's company with no particular job or purpose in mind and It's AWESOME!
He has lots of great stories that I am dying to write about too! Seriously. Could it get any better? :-) Anyways, besides being very happy and slightly worthless lately I have been wanting to write more. And the only way to do that is to simply do it.
One of my absolute favorite things to do is going driving. Not necessarily to any place in particular, but just to drive around for a long time. Not the most practical hobby, I know. But you get to see new sights and just talk.
If you want to get a taste of the culture in America, go driving. You will learn a lot. There are a wide variety of "homes" and just different places that are unique with their own stories and flavor. I know that we like to slap labels on things, but there is always a deeper story behind the twelve broke-down cars in that guy we would call a "redneck"s front yard. Or the baby crimson king maple tree growing beside the house. A pot hole in the gravel driveway; a young mom chasing her muddy kid through the yard; an old German Shepard lounging on the patio, following your progress past his turf only with cloudy brown eyes...life is made up of these mundane and mildly moldy details and we see them everyday.
There's a thousand stories there. I love it.
So run out and snatch up those quirky details...those odd scenarios and look deeeper...sometimes that's all it takes to just make your whole week completely different. Don't miss out on what's right there behind the screen of ordinary. :-)
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Cleveland--part two
That panic gripped him, grappled with his heart. Cleveland wanted nothing in the world but to be able to turn around and high-tail it back home. He didn't like snakes. Scratch that, he hated them. Not because of what they were essentially, but because he feared what they could do. Hate born of fear is a deadly thing. It wants nothing to do with the object of it's terror, so the two options are usually run or kill.
Cleveland's hand traveled slowly down to the canvas-covered bag hanging at his side. The jar. Grandma Rea's eyes flashed before his face. That deep, wise penetration sliced into his heart. He couldn't run. Not today.
But his strength and his speed were not enough to kill, either. What could he do? Courage is found in unlikely places, they say. At the very moment where Cleveland decided he would get past that snake or die trying, a sparrow, of all creatures, flitted out of the brush onto the path before the snake. Immediately the snake struck out at the bird. That small sparrow darted back just in time, leading the snake after it and, consequently, away from the path.
The little brown bird twittered and flirted with the snake, almost arrogant in the face of such grave danger. Cleveland was amazed. And somehow he felt that it was for him. For his sake. But, that would be silly; they were only creatures...like the butterfly.
As soon as the snake was beyond striking distance, Cleveland rushed forward along the path, past the dreaded snake. He ran at a steady clip, flying over the rough, weedy terrain. The panic still pumped through his blood, keeping him from slowing his pace for some time. He wondered about the sparrow. He hoped the bird had not been caught. He reflected on his own fear, his own lack of courage, compared to that of the bird. What boldness had possessed the sparrow? Maybe it was just a crazy bird, or one that liked danger. Bewildering.
He tried to tell himself that Grandma Rea would have been proud of him if she had been a witness to the encounter with the snake. She would have thought him brave and strong and smiled for his courage! But something inside him knew better.
Grandma Rea would have smiled at the sparrow.
Cleveland's hand traveled slowly down to the canvas-covered bag hanging at his side. The jar. Grandma Rea's eyes flashed before his face. That deep, wise penetration sliced into his heart. He couldn't run. Not today.
But his strength and his speed were not enough to kill, either. What could he do? Courage is found in unlikely places, they say. At the very moment where Cleveland decided he would get past that snake or die trying, a sparrow, of all creatures, flitted out of the brush onto the path before the snake. Immediately the snake struck out at the bird. That small sparrow darted back just in time, leading the snake after it and, consequently, away from the path.
The little brown bird twittered and flirted with the snake, almost arrogant in the face of such grave danger. Cleveland was amazed. And somehow he felt that it was for him. For his sake. But, that would be silly; they were only creatures...like the butterfly.
As soon as the snake was beyond striking distance, Cleveland rushed forward along the path, past the dreaded snake. He ran at a steady clip, flying over the rough, weedy terrain. The panic still pumped through his blood, keeping him from slowing his pace for some time. He wondered about the sparrow. He hoped the bird had not been caught. He reflected on his own fear, his own lack of courage, compared to that of the bird. What boldness had possessed the sparrow? Maybe it was just a crazy bird, or one that liked danger. Bewildering.
He tried to tell himself that Grandma Rea would have been proud of him if she had been a witness to the encounter with the snake. She would have thought him brave and strong and smiled for his courage! But something inside him knew better.
Grandma Rea would have smiled at the sparrow.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Cleveland--the beginning...
Once upon a time there was a determined little boy making a long journey up to the top of a mountain. He was just eleven years old, but anyone could see there was a profound spirit deep within his large brown eyes that far surpassed his years.
The boy was daring; his little calloused feet were always bare and his eager face was tanned from constant exposure to the sun. He was determined to get to the top of the mountain, come what may.
The boy's name was Cleveland, and all he had with him was a dingy bag bearing a most unusual and precious cargo; a jar with a butterfly. It was not just any butterfly either, it was a butterfly that no scientist could ever have identified, for it was the only one of its kind ever found.
Cleveland, being the clever boy that he was, had miraculously come across the creature and captured it for his grandmother. Her 91st birthday had been the perfect occasion for his special gift. When he had presented the beautiful butterfly to his dear grandmother, larger tears had welled up in her aged hazel eyes. She had taken the jar in her old, withered hands and gazed at the butterfly with an expression of sorrow that Cleveland had not expected.
"Cleveland," Grandmother Rea had said, "why have you caught and caged this poor creature?" The young boy's heart had dropped at her softly spoken reprimand. Her words had stunned him, as she held the jar out to him and again spoke. "Look deeper, Cleveland. This is a free and flying creature. Yes, it is very beautiful, but that is no reason to trap it so."
Cleveland had looked and tried to see what was so evident to his grandmother, he had told her he was sorry that he had not realized what he had done. He couldn't quite understand it, even though he wanted to. Grandmother Rea took his small, sun-browned face in her hands and had told him to take it to the top of the mountain, set it free, and that would be her gift.
So Cleveland, filled with redemptive determination, set out on a journey to the mountain top. To release his prize...the captive butterfly. It was a long way up to the top of the mountain, but Cleveland fixed his eyes upon the summit and began his hike. Over rocks and roots, and through weeds, thistles and trees he climbed. But this he was used to, the wilderness and the wild brush were like old, well-worn paths to the child.
It was warm, with the sun shining golden upon his smooth brow. The wind swirled about the mountain, whispering wildly through the leaves. The air tasted cool and crisp, its sweeping motion soothing his spirit like a dear friend. With the wind urging him onward, Cleveland smiled to himself. There seemed to be no opposition, just encouragement for the journey before him.
Off to the side of his path, a small sinister slither caught the corner of his eye...hoping it wasn't a snake, Cleveland turned fast to see a long brightly-colored cord weaving through the bushes. A darting panic shot through his brain as he analyzed the diamond-shaped head. Instinctively drawing his foot backwards, a strong breeze tugged at his body. His eyes were pinned to the snake, a cold shiver of fear racing down his spine.
....
The boy was daring; his little calloused feet were always bare and his eager face was tanned from constant exposure to the sun. He was determined to get to the top of the mountain, come what may.
The boy's name was Cleveland, and all he had with him was a dingy bag bearing a most unusual and precious cargo; a jar with a butterfly. It was not just any butterfly either, it was a butterfly that no scientist could ever have identified, for it was the only one of its kind ever found.
Cleveland, being the clever boy that he was, had miraculously come across the creature and captured it for his grandmother. Her 91st birthday had been the perfect occasion for his special gift. When he had presented the beautiful butterfly to his dear grandmother, larger tears had welled up in her aged hazel eyes. She had taken the jar in her old, withered hands and gazed at the butterfly with an expression of sorrow that Cleveland had not expected.
"Cleveland," Grandmother Rea had said, "why have you caught and caged this poor creature?" The young boy's heart had dropped at her softly spoken reprimand. Her words had stunned him, as she held the jar out to him and again spoke. "Look deeper, Cleveland. This is a free and flying creature. Yes, it is very beautiful, but that is no reason to trap it so."
Cleveland had looked and tried to see what was so evident to his grandmother, he had told her he was sorry that he had not realized what he had done. He couldn't quite understand it, even though he wanted to. Grandmother Rea took his small, sun-browned face in her hands and had told him to take it to the top of the mountain, set it free, and that would be her gift.
So Cleveland, filled with redemptive determination, set out on a journey to the mountain top. To release his prize...the captive butterfly. It was a long way up to the top of the mountain, but Cleveland fixed his eyes upon the summit and began his hike. Over rocks and roots, and through weeds, thistles and trees he climbed. But this he was used to, the wilderness and the wild brush were like old, well-worn paths to the child.
It was warm, with the sun shining golden upon his smooth brow. The wind swirled about the mountain, whispering wildly through the leaves. The air tasted cool and crisp, its sweeping motion soothing his spirit like a dear friend. With the wind urging him onward, Cleveland smiled to himself. There seemed to be no opposition, just encouragement for the journey before him.
Off to the side of his path, a small sinister slither caught the corner of his eye...hoping it wasn't a snake, Cleveland turned fast to see a long brightly-colored cord weaving through the bushes. A darting panic shot through his brain as he analyzed the diamond-shaped head. Instinctively drawing his foot backwards, a strong breeze tugged at his body. His eyes were pinned to the snake, a cold shiver of fear racing down his spine.
....
Friday, October 14, 2011
A story...
I will be posting a recent short story I have been working on in segments here on the blog. The story is about a little boy named Cleveland who is on a journey to redeem himself in the eyes of his beloved grandmother. The obstacles along the way serve to test his character, proving in the end whether he came out tried and true...or not. I started writing this story on June 2, 2011 and I have been on a bit of a journey myself since I began the writing. It turns out that it is the hard decisions we make that truly determine how our character is shaped, and I wanted you to see that how I feel it.
I hope that you enjoy this story and maybe take away something from it that you didn't expect.
Allow me to introduce...Cleveland.
I hope that you enjoy this story and maybe take away something from it that you didn't expect.
Allow me to introduce...Cleveland.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
IN courage
Sometimes...sometimes it is difficult to know exactly what to write. I think of all of you who read my blog and I wonder what you need to hear, what would encourage you. There are many times when I am able to just spew out words that flow well and have a lot of depth. You may smile and laugh and think "wow, she is a good writer."
But then there are other times...the hard times. When all of the emotion inside of me lays like a solid lump in my middle and the thoughts I have get stuck somewhere in that lump and it's like untangling a mess of knotted up necklaces to get the words out in some form of sensible order. Each word is a struggle. I can't write, I can't make you smile or laugh cause I have nothing clever to give you.
I just want to be raw and honest and, most of all, sincere. No matter what you have going on in your life right now, hold on to God. He is faithful. I don't yet fully understand what that means, but He is showing me. Even if you feel completely alone and have a whole mess of hurt that you don't know how to bear. He is there with you and you just have to believe that even when you can't feel it.
Be brave.
I am writing this mostly to myself, but if you need it too, well, here it is. We were never promised an easy life, but God promised to be with us. He chose us, created us, in order that He might love us.
Love--true, pure, honest love--is never wasted.
No one else can sympathize with your hurt and understand your heart like God. Honestly, He made you that way, and knows exactly what you are going through.
But then there are other times...the hard times. When all of the emotion inside of me lays like a solid lump in my middle and the thoughts I have get stuck somewhere in that lump and it's like untangling a mess of knotted up necklaces to get the words out in some form of sensible order. Each word is a struggle. I can't write, I can't make you smile or laugh cause I have nothing clever to give you.
I just want to be raw and honest and, most of all, sincere. No matter what you have going on in your life right now, hold on to God. He is faithful. I don't yet fully understand what that means, but He is showing me. Even if you feel completely alone and have a whole mess of hurt that you don't know how to bear. He is there with you and you just have to believe that even when you can't feel it.
Be brave.
I am writing this mostly to myself, but if you need it too, well, here it is. We were never promised an easy life, but God promised to be with us. He chose us, created us, in order that He might love us.
Love--true, pure, honest love--is never wasted.
No one else can sympathize with your hurt and understand your heart like God. Honestly, He made you that way, and knows exactly what you are going through.
Monday, September 5, 2011
This blog is impossible to title
Hello!
Now, now, don't look at me like that...
Oh alright, I have a ready list of logical and rational excuses to justify my lack of blogging in the past...uh, month. Yikes.
Well, nevermind excuses. They always sound whiney and unnecessary anyway.
So what would you like to read today? A mystery, fantasy, fiction, true story...? Sometimes you just need a good story, I know.
Once upon a time...
I was pretty sure someone stole my umbrella while I was at school. Honestly! I can't find it anywhere and I am certainly not the type to lose things.
Ever.
The fact that someone would stoop to steal another person's umbrella is just pathetic. Fortunately for me, I don't care too much about the missing umbrella. I tend to forget I even own an umbrella, leaving it in the car, and usually end up running around getting perfectly drenched in the rain anyway.
Hrmph, who needs a stupid umbrella anyhow? Rain is awesome! It's even kind of romantic in a soggy sort of way. It's real. Rain washes away weak, dirty, fake, and wishy-washy things to expose what is underneath. What's real and authentic. So many people run around like chickens, sheilding themselves from the rain to save their hair or makeup or clothes...and I want to laugh cause I could just stand in the rain, like a duck, with my arms stretched out, welcoming it. Everyone loves to smile when the sun's shining, because it's so happy and easy.
But try it in the rain.
A smile in the rain is worth a thousand in the sunshine.
Forgive me for waxing poetic, I haven't done that in a long time! Been far too busy lately being professional, which is a terrible fate for anyone with an ornery sense of humor. No room for poetics or my amusing antics in being professional.
I have been watching football, lots of football, recently. It's another world completely, let me tell ya! I am becoming a stranger person every year of my life. Reading Dickens, watching football, drinking black coffee, writing, babysitting, and working on my beloved yet problematic vehicle...I feel like a smoothie mixed with ingredients that just don't belong together. Next thing you know I will be demolishing houses and piloting jets or something!
Hmmm...that might be kind of fun, actually.
This past week, I had a basket of fried pickle chips. Yet another life-goal crossed off my bucket list! They were amazing. Though, I really don't think they were claussen pickles (which, are the best pickles I have ever had in my life).
Oh, and I made a discovery today, it just might be about time to upgrade to a new laptop! I am sitting here, at my grandparents' house, tapping along on old faithful when I notice that my grandma is looking around, searching for something. She finally arrives by my side and says, "Oh is that your computer?!" I replied that it was, indeed, my computer. Grandma says, "That's what that noise is! I thought someone was running a vacuum!" So, you all should be full of pity for me, it's a miracle I can hear myself think over the humming of this computer! :)
Live your life laughing and making legendary discoveries this week!
Oh, and keep your umbrella under lock and key if you object to getting rained on! It's a sinister world...you just never know who might swipe your umbrella!
Now, now, don't look at me like that...
Oh alright, I have a ready list of logical and rational excuses to justify my lack of blogging in the past...uh, month. Yikes.
Well, nevermind excuses. They always sound whiney and unnecessary anyway.
So what would you like to read today? A mystery, fantasy, fiction, true story...? Sometimes you just need a good story, I know.
Once upon a time...
I was pretty sure someone stole my umbrella while I was at school. Honestly! I can't find it anywhere and I am certainly not the type to lose things.
Ever.
The fact that someone would stoop to steal another person's umbrella is just pathetic. Fortunately for me, I don't care too much about the missing umbrella. I tend to forget I even own an umbrella, leaving it in the car, and usually end up running around getting perfectly drenched in the rain anyway.
Hrmph, who needs a stupid umbrella anyhow? Rain is awesome! It's even kind of romantic in a soggy sort of way. It's real. Rain washes away weak, dirty, fake, and wishy-washy things to expose what is underneath. What's real and authentic. So many people run around like chickens, sheilding themselves from the rain to save their hair or makeup or clothes...and I want to laugh cause I could just stand in the rain, like a duck, with my arms stretched out, welcoming it. Everyone loves to smile when the sun's shining, because it's so happy and easy.
But try it in the rain.
A smile in the rain is worth a thousand in the sunshine.
Forgive me for waxing poetic, I haven't done that in a long time! Been far too busy lately being professional, which is a terrible fate for anyone with an ornery sense of humor. No room for poetics or my amusing antics in being professional.
I have been watching football, lots of football, recently. It's another world completely, let me tell ya! I am becoming a stranger person every year of my life. Reading Dickens, watching football, drinking black coffee, writing, babysitting, and working on my beloved yet problematic vehicle...I feel like a smoothie mixed with ingredients that just don't belong together. Next thing you know I will be demolishing houses and piloting jets or something!
Hmmm...that might be kind of fun, actually.
This past week, I had a basket of fried pickle chips. Yet another life-goal crossed off my bucket list! They were amazing. Though, I really don't think they were claussen pickles (which, are the best pickles I have ever had in my life).
Oh, and I made a discovery today, it just might be about time to upgrade to a new laptop! I am sitting here, at my grandparents' house, tapping along on old faithful when I notice that my grandma is looking around, searching for something. She finally arrives by my side and says, "Oh is that your computer?!" I replied that it was, indeed, my computer. Grandma says, "That's what that noise is! I thought someone was running a vacuum!" So, you all should be full of pity for me, it's a miracle I can hear myself think over the humming of this computer! :)
Live your life laughing and making legendary discoveries this week!
Oh, and keep your umbrella under lock and key if you object to getting rained on! It's a sinister world...you just never know who might swipe your umbrella!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Mocha Iced Coffee and Cars that are Determined to Leak Antifreeze
Ever have one of those times where you feel like everything is breaking down, blowing up, and failing but you realize that you are getting through it somehow? It is almost so overwhelming that you have to pick and choose what you feel and don't feel. And, it is a growing process also. LIFE is a growing process, I'm convinced that it never stops. We are always being tried and tested and having our character picked at and pulled and stretched and...well you get the picture.
I can't help but think that something knocked over the box of all my fears and they have all come flooding onto me at once, and I sit still and just look amazed at this mess of fears and wonder what to do with it all. You can't always control what you feel, but how you react to that feeling is absolutely up to you. It can be almost an onslaught of emotion that you don't know how to deal with. But you still have a choice.
I don't like not being able to physically fix a problem. I always feel a responsibility to fix it. Recently my car has been going through some insane epidemic where it is DETERMINED to leak antifreeze, one way or another. And I hate feeling like I can't fix it. But the truth is, I can't.
And it is not just my car that is bubbling with problems, it is like every area of my life is getting hit with issues. It's messy. First instinct=fix the problems! And the more I try, the more I realize that I can't. I just can't. And that's ok. My way of fixing things is not God's way. It's like duct taping a shelf together instead of using nails. Crappy.
We look at ourselves when we are young and just imagine what our lives will be like when we "grow up". Now, I don't know about yours, but all my childhood dreams about the future involved the idea that life was somehow going to be perfect. Like a fairy tale. And here I am, 20 years old, sipping my mocha iced coffee and writing about all these problems I can't fix. 10-year-old Bethany would have been appalled. But the truth is, sometimes we have to have struggles in our life so that the flaws in our thinking can be exposed. God calls us to renew our minds. (Romans 12:2 --"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing, and perfect will.") I don't know what He has planned for my life, but I do know that He is God. I can trust Him.
Be encouraged in your heart, because God is not blind or deaf. He knows what is going on in your life, in your heart. And He will be there with you through whatever you may face. Believe Him. Seek Him. Love Him. And watch His hand move in your life. :]
I can't help but think that something knocked over the box of all my fears and they have all come flooding onto me at once, and I sit still and just look amazed at this mess of fears and wonder what to do with it all. You can't always control what you feel, but how you react to that feeling is absolutely up to you. It can be almost an onslaught of emotion that you don't know how to deal with. But you still have a choice.
I don't like not being able to physically fix a problem. I always feel a responsibility to fix it. Recently my car has been going through some insane epidemic where it is DETERMINED to leak antifreeze, one way or another. And I hate feeling like I can't fix it. But the truth is, I can't.
And it is not just my car that is bubbling with problems, it is like every area of my life is getting hit with issues. It's messy. First instinct=fix the problems! And the more I try, the more I realize that I can't. I just can't. And that's ok. My way of fixing things is not God's way. It's like duct taping a shelf together instead of using nails. Crappy.
We look at ourselves when we are young and just imagine what our lives will be like when we "grow up". Now, I don't know about yours, but all my childhood dreams about the future involved the idea that life was somehow going to be perfect. Like a fairy tale. And here I am, 20 years old, sipping my mocha iced coffee and writing about all these problems I can't fix. 10-year-old Bethany would have been appalled. But the truth is, sometimes we have to have struggles in our life so that the flaws in our thinking can be exposed. God calls us to renew our minds. (Romans 12:2 --"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing, and perfect will.") I don't know what He has planned for my life, but I do know that He is God. I can trust Him.
Be encouraged in your heart, because God is not blind or deaf. He knows what is going on in your life, in your heart. And He will be there with you through whatever you may face. Believe Him. Seek Him. Love Him. And watch His hand move in your life. :]
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