No, I’m not disappeared and gone forever. I’ve been blogging far and away from here. This xanga 2.0 business is interesting.

For those of you faithfuls on Xanga…. I commend you! Plus, this site is looking more and more like wordpress, which can be a good thing.

Before I went to bed last night, I had a conversation with myself. Except I had a hard time getting through since my old man was having a temper tantrum. 

By “old man” I don’t mean my dad. I don’t mean God either, since I don’t refer to Him as such, nor would He be prone to tantrums. I mean that old man. The one in each one of us. Some refer to him as the “mean wolf” (or dog, the one you feed if you want your character to become worse.) 

I was trying to tell myself to get back on track, and then I started to think about obedience. Obedience to God. 

The Bible urges us to be obedient. To know what it is to have a master and to not only know what the instructions are, but to be willingly compliant. Not as slaves, but as free people, in bondage to Him because the only other choice is to be in bondage to self, and we are never as good to ourselves as we think we are. 

Jesus was obedient. Even to the cross, where He went not because that was how things were supposed to be, but because He knew what it meant practically when He said, “Nevertheless, Your will, not mine.” 

And sometimes the instructions are clear even when the circumstance isn’t. Even when I don’t understand. Even when–or, especially when–I’m discouraged and feeling like I’m at the end of my rope. So what can I do in obedience right now?

Huh?

This is where the temper tantrum began and the conversation stopped becoming coherent. Because each of the next statements were followed up by: 

But I don’t WANT to!!!!

Well, at least I was being honest with myself. Hey, it took me a while to understand how to cut through the excuses to the heart of the matter and there it always is: I don’t want to. It’s not even that it’s too hard, or that it’s boring or stupid. OK, maybe it’s a little hard. Maybe readjusting my habits once more is going to be a little difficult. But I’ve certainly done it before with a lot less of a fight. And maybe sometimes I think it’s boring, and even stupid, irreligious, or oh-that-magical-word, legalistic. 

It’s much easier, let’s say, to forego the tedious stuff and lose oneself in any number of unprofitable activities. And I’ve seen these “unprofitable” activities (even the harmless ones) hinder a person’s walk in peace. Much easier to be easy on oneself than to be disciplined. And what more is spiritual discipline than to keep oneself in check, stemming the tides of various shades of temptation and staying on the strait and narrow (that was not spelled incorrectly)? Is discipline supposed to be  hard? Is being educated by God supposed to be easy? Can’t we have access to those lesson plans?

When questions come, when trials, when disappointments and discouragement… when people disappoint and when prayers go unanswered… will obedience stand? Is it become too out of fashion to look for the leading of the Holy Spirit and to be diligent in following? Is it too liberal or too conservative to obey and love? Is what our own choices have to offer that much more appealing? Are we freer? 

Somewhere deep inside, there is a want. It’s sometimes drowned out by lazy weekend days, or stressful weekday nights. It competes with new movie releases, or a new app on the smartphone. It is often silenced by the louder voice of need, or want, or desire. But it’s there. The still, small voice. The wind in the trees. It’s a promise. It’s a hope. It’s a reminder that this world is not our home, and it’s a question of whether or not we believe it, and the One who is telling us how it really is. 

I’m really not much into customs and traditions. My inner rebel cringes agasint ordained times for things that should be freely given and thought about year-round. With that said, I’m a sucker for excuses to demonstrate gratitude, appreciation, and love. If I were not to be mocked for it, I’d probably be a lot more demonstrative about my thankfulness for the loved ones in my life and a little sappy about birthdays and anniversaries. The case is that I got mocked for it, and I stopped. True story.

It’s also the case though that I like reflecting on the passage of time, and I try to do that often,and birthdays are good markers that remind me to appreciate what I have. What facilitates my abandon for tradition is my disinterest in remembering dates and figures… this is perhaps something I can work on. 

The months between this Thanksgiving and last were momentous ones. The ones between that and the Thanksgiving previous were impactful as well. They’ve held many moments of confusion, hurt, pain, and broken heartedness. They’ve also held moments of great joy, peace, love, and growth. I am profoundly changed following those months, and I will carry the lessons I’ve learned for the rest of my life. Many of these moments are monuments around which time and dates will revolve around. 

So in the spirit of tradition and nonconformity, this is a post of thanksgiving. This isn’t meant to be a ‘mass post’ to thank everyone that’s touched my life (I scorn mass texting/messaging/emailing, and I suspect (hope?) that that particular kind of messaging is on its way out (maybe not for emails…) I’m also trying to be careful about remembering the weight of gratitude and demonstrations of appreciation. 

There’s a quote that I read recently and it continues to resonate in my heart: ”But when we love someone, we want to be with them, and we view their love for us with great honor even if they are not a person of great rank. For this reason–and not because of our great rank–God values our love. So much, in fact, that He suffered greatly on our behalf.” It was written by John Chrysostom, and it was during a time when I was also reading Abraham Heschel’s books (God in Search of Man and Man is Not Alone.)

We spend a lot of time encouraging gratitude to God and adoration to Him, and rightly so. But is it out of place to believe that God appreciates me (you), too? That is values me (you)? I hesitate to use the pronoun ‘us’ because the feeling I am trying to talk about is much more personal. Love is personal. Individual. And I am learning that love can see past all the hurt and pain and faults in another. That is can be indiscriminating. That it can be awesome in its warmth, especially when it is shared. And the Lord of the universe, perhaps He is warmed by my (your) love to Him. Perhaps He so craves it that He was willing to suffer greatly for it. 

Love suffers long. I am grateful for this kind of love. This season, it is not only people, and divine things, and monuments of time that I am grateful for. It is for love. I am grateful for love. I want to strive to love even more freely, more passionately, more boldly. I want to be less discriminating, fearful, and defensive about it. And I am realizing that with that comes the need to forgive, empathize, and trust ever the more deeper and fuller. 

This is an impossible task at times, and most times one that is not even desired. But if others are valued by God, should I not as well?

Pride, in the Christian community, isn’t always associated with the best of things. It is the beast-that-must-be-crushed, the monster in our souls that prevents us from living a life fit for another world. But pride isn’t always a bad thing. To be proud isn’t a bad thing either. To be proud of something is not to be ashamed of it. When I say, “I’m proud of you!” I try to say it rarely, and only when I mean to say that I am honored to have an association. To me, it is not merely a matter of accomplishment. It is a matter of love. It is a matter of if someone says, “And who stands with this person?” I would bound to my feet with both arms raised and shout, “Me!” Love rejoices. 

I am proud of my God. I am unashamed to claim Him as mine. My actions might betray me, however. I would rather not claim those actions as mine, but they are mine, and they must be addressed. 

I am proud of my family. I truly know that I am who I am because of their influence in my life. This is not an unusual thing–but it is the type of influence they have had which I am most grateful for, and most awestruck by. 

And what of shame? Is shame the opposite of pride? Or is it apathy, the generic enemy of all things good? 

I have this little devotional book I am reading. It’s pretty good, and pretty soon I’ll have a review up on http://bookwoms.wordpress.com/ about it. The selection that will follow is from a woman named Catherine of Genoa (from her book, Life and Teachings). I was awestruck by it, and I immediately wondered what would happen if all the right-wing, left-wing, fanatical I’m-always-right-er’s took up this passage and followed it. And then I wondered what would happen if I followed it. Because the first sentence of the passage is understandable. The rest is incomprehensible. 

“…Since I am determined to join myself to God,I find that I am also bound to be the enemy of His enemies. And since I find nothing that is more his enemy than the self that is in me, I am constrained to hate this part of me more than any other. Indeed, because of the war that exists between it and the Spirit, I am determined to separate it from myself and treat it as nothing.” 

Surrender is insanely difficult. It is, in all practical purposes, impossible. We will never allow ourselves to do so, and even when we try, we are either let down (by our human counterparts) or unsuccessful. I am ashamed of myself and yet proud of myself. I hate who I am, but I embrace it and will not let it go. I know where I want to go, but I do not want to go there. Yes, Paul, wretched are we. 

“I then saw others who were fighting against their evil inclinations and forcing themselves to resist them. But I saw that the more they struggled against them, the more they committed them. So I said to them, “You are right in lamenting your sins and imperfections, and I would be lamenting with you if it were not for the fact that God is holding me. You cannot defend yourself, and I cannot defend myself. The thing we must do is renounce the care of ourselves unto God who can defend our true self. Only then can God do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.”

The truth of the matter is, that this is what it means to be proud of God. It means to give ourselves up in full trust to Him. It means to let go of our fears, insecurities, doubts, skepticisms, self-loathing/love… Surrender is probably the smallest door there is, and we must go through it. 

And the most important truth is that He is the one who was proud of us first. The Truth is that He was not ashamed to be naked on an instrument meant for humiliation and punishment for us, though He did nothing to deserve it. I would stand and shout, “Me!” but He would stand and be mocked. My pride is shattered on the Rock that is Christ. I am ashamed even of my pride because it is pale in comparison to His love for me. 

You know what I woke up thinking about this morning? Well, lots of things, but in particular I started wondering about the phrase, “take care.” Don’t worry; there’ll be no reference to the tedium phrase ‘the dictionary definition of..’s here. Just some thoughts so I can keep writing, keep writing, keep writing… 

When I think of taking care of someone, images of service come into mind. Service, and tendering of attention and meeting needs. Breakfast in bed, maybe. Shields. Band-aids. Definitely lots of band-aids. Burly men with names like Aragon or Maximus… OK, I kid… 

The word ‘care’ is interesting because it usually evokes good feelings. When someone says, “I care about you,” it’s usually taken to mean that that particular individual thinks about or loves the other. And then there’s the word ‘take.’ Funny how a phrase that evokes kindness and protection includes a word like take, no? But there it is, take. Like when I would take my brother’s candy when he wasn’t looking, or when I was a kid and I took my sister’s science project to school and presented it as my own. Bratty, isn’t it? Meaner, when you think of ponzi schemes and emotional wreckages and if you happened to be my brother or sister during my elementary years. 

Here’s the point. Care doesn’t mean love. Care means worries. Care means disappointments, hardships, and sorrow. That’s why the hymn says, “I cast all my cares upon You.” Because we can give Jesus our cares. He takes them and throws them coasts away from where it can find us. Therefore, when we say we want to “take care” of someone, we’re saying that we want to take away their sorrows, their pain, their worries, their difficulties. And often that looks like service, meeting needs, and love. But it’s more than that. In order to take away someone’s hardships, you have to know what someone’s hardship is. You have to invest. Sacrifice. This is a love that is more than just attraction and doting. Further, when you tell someone to “take care,” you’re telling them not to put their guard down, but to be careful since you can’t be there to do it for them. Perhaps the better way to say it might have been, “I’ll take cares from you.” Doesn’t quite sound like what the Care Bears were trained to do… there are no rainbows and glitter here. 

I’m going to be a little bit more discerning when I use that phrase now. I used to sign off on emails with a flippant, “take care,” but now… only when I mean it.  

There’s this new food site that I’m totally hooked on. It’s called foodgawker. I spent a lot of time the other day looking at all the things I want to make and think about putting it on pinterest. (If you don’t know what pinterest is, you probably: a. live under a rock b. think ponies are ugly or c. pee standing up.) It makes me sad because I want to experiment with so much cooking but I don’t have time and when I do, I don’t have the ingredients (some of them require fresh produce which does not stand a chance with my schedule.) 

I got myself a planter so I can grow my own basil and cilantro. I love basil and I love cilantro. This is a special self-watering planter so I don’t have to worry about leaving my little living things since I tend to be away for more than a week every once in a while. 

Cooking is just one more things I can’t do. It seems my schedule bars me from doing many things which I think will make me a freer person. 

This however, is an illusion. I know it, because when I do have time, I’m not always cooking or using it efficiently. 

In my last post, I talked about rising up to meet standards. 

This is noble, and I love it, and I think it should be done, but it can give rise to some incredibly big issues. The issue is that sometimes, there is so much to do, and so much to desire to do, that the task becomes too great. And all those built-up good intentions fall to the ground and no one (not even all the King’s men) can put it together again. 

And I get that way sometimes. I run and run and everything is great (runner’s high!), and then suddenly–it’s like a leg cramp or something–I double over and fall to the ground. And I lie there and moan and think about how difficult everything is. How every time I climb the mountain, there’s another one. And how this road is so difficult, and alienating, and blah, blah, blah…

I don’t think this is what God intended to happen. 

Reflecting on the Sermon on the Mount is always interesting to me. Just when I think Jesus is on my side, saying, “Yes, you can do all things…” and that such things like discipline and surrender and sacrifice are all within my grasp, I remember this sermon, and in particular, the part where Jesus says,  ”You have heard that it was said to people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.”

Me: Yeah. I can do that. No murdering. That’s not a big deal. 

“..but I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or a sister will be subject to judgment.”

This snaps me back into focus. Jesus continues to elevate the law to a degree which seems almost ridiculously unattainable. 

Except with a change of heart. 

Except with a change of mind. 

Except with a total collapse at His feet in acknowledgement that we can’t do this on our own. 

I know there are you control freaks out there who think you can manage life (and spirituality) by careful monitoring of variables and daily activities. Where the straight-and-narrow can be measured out with a ruler and some really strong brick. Or others who think Jesus surely must be using hyperbole. When He says angry, He just means… you know. Killing. 

What bars us from freedom and attaining to high spiritual goals isn’t a lack of personality, or willpower, or because Jesus doesn’t love us quite as much. It’s usually an illusion. An illusion that we are clinging to God, because in reality, we are self-sufficient and totally unwilling to let go of the world. It’s because of want. 

And what can change want?

What can give us a change of heart, and mind, and soul?

I’ll let you answer that. Today, the thought of froyo is keeping me alive, once again. 

I do, however, believe in character growth, discipline, and steadfastness. But all with an understanding that our foundation is Christ, and that we can achieve nothing outside of Him. This stuff is made of supernatural material. 

OK, fine, that was an odd title for a post. But you know, your face is odd, and I don’t bring that up (too many times) do I?

Disclaimer: I’m on a thin string. 

So yes. Insanity is ensuing. Usually, the kids start getting antsy at 3.5 weeks. Teachers start losing it at 4 weeks. It is currently 5.5 weeks into a no-break stretch and we’ve got 1 whole week left to go. Things are looking pretty hairy here in the Valley. At least I can count on blue skies and a desk next to a wall-length window. That is nice. I also have my “Work Music” playlist going in the background now. That is usually a Last Resort. It’s working. There’s not too much the gang of Handel, Holst, Vivaldi, and Satie can’t handle. Throw in some Beethoven, Puccini and a dash of Dvorak and Warlock and you’ve got a winner. I’m tempted to put giant headphones on my head, lock the doors, shut off the lights, and glare at people who knock. 

So it seems to me that God takes advantage of times when I am already down to make me do things that I think are pretty mean. The only reason I don’t consider it being like someone shining a magnifying glass at an ant’s back leg and laughing when it runs around is because… well, because I love Him and I know He’s not like that. 

But sometimes…

Take the Holy Spirit. I mean, I think He’s swell and all, but sometimes I wish He’d leave me alone. Let me indulge in peace. Recently, He’s informed me that maybe I should stop liking Jason Statham (I like him for his talent, ok?!) so much, especially since his movies feature blah blah blah blah blahblahblah blah that isn’t too edifying or even decent. (See, I edited out that whole section for you discretionary readers.) 

And when things like that happen, a series of things happen pretty consistently. This is how I respond:
(a) I say, “OK. I guess it doesn’t mean that much to me. Sure.”
(b) I proceed to think about life without x, y, z. It’s not that bad. In fact, maybe it’s better.
(c) I think, “Wait a minute. Aren’t I being legalistic here? Can I really do this myself? Isn’t this setting myself up for disaster? Hasn’t this happened before? I mean, can’t I exercise moderation?” 
(d) I get upset. Why does Jesus want to ruin my life?
(e) I “scripture-nuke” myself and say, Is not life more than food/movies/whatever? What worth is it if you gain the whole world…
(d) I get upset again. Because it seems like Jesus is saying, “Don’t you love me? I mean, you don’t have to, but if you loved me, you would.”
(e) I say, “Of course I love you.”
(f) I remember that Jesus is not a passive-aggressive lover.
(g) I heave a big sigh, feel the burden lift off, and laugh at my foolishness, and remember who Jesus really is. 
               (i)  the One who saved me from myself countless times.
               (ii) the One who loves little babies.
               (iii) the One who had a real smile and a real hug.
               (iv) the One who literally saved me from crashing and burning. 
               (iii) the One who knows every bit of my soul and loved me and died for me anyway.
(h) I say goodbye to Jason Statham. (Hehe. Or whatever else it might be.)

If I learned anything from my experiences in life the past few months, it’s that I am very stubborn, very rebellious, very skeptical of love, and a host of other things I’d rather not bare to the world right now. 

Anyway. Whatever the case is, there is nothing too precious to me above my love for God. I want to lose more and more of the ties that binds me to the things of this world. At this point, He’s got me wrapped up, bound up, and intertwined. Without Him, I am nothing.  

Back to ze work!

It was Valentine’s Day a few days ago and it went by neglected on this blog. Many things have been neglected in my life. And many things have had much attention. These are all things that I attach a very neutral value to. As long as I’m learning, I’m happy. 

I had the opportunity to call the women I love most in the world this past Tuesday: my mother and my sister. Of all the people in the world, I believe that these two are the ones that influenced me and shaped me the most. I see their example and their guidance in the way I think and approach the world, in my treatment of others, and in the inner workings of my heart. Other than the other-worldly Jesus, the Love of my life, the (often rough) tutelage I received under these women made me who I am now.

Although… I’m pretty sure the martyr spirit in me that wants to champion the undertrodden and fight for the neglected… I’m pretty sure that one came from my dad. At least the martyr part. It’s a dangerous part of me but it’s the part that got me where I am now professionally and perhaps even spiritually. 

Anyway, I called them because I love having excuses to tell people I love and appreciate them. Even better are times that are completely spontaneous. Who needs another commercially-driven holiday to be cookie-cutter robotic lovers? Not me. But I’ll take my chocolate and often self-bought flowers, thank you very much.

Speaking of chocolate and flowers…. I read these articles recently in The Atlantic about the flower industry and how there’s a 1 in 12 chance that the flowers in shops were cut by child laborers. 90% of flowers sold were imported from Ecuador or Columbia. Granted, not all of these flowers are cut by poor little children, but the adult laborers aren’t exactly getting health insurance either. That got me mad. First of all, that we spend 1.7 billion dollars towards one day for things that will wilt away after a few days, and second, that I can’t do much about it. What will I do, boycott flowers like I’m boycotting Walmart? Sure, Walmart won’t crumble because they’re losing my monthly grocery bill to Martin’s, but it’s the principle of the thing. I hate that I live in a world that is so driven by commercial demand. Making sure I make my flowers last the longest (drying/cutting) is small consolation.  

And now on to chocolate! Same deal. Africa produces 70% of the world’s cocoa, most of it with cheap labor. The article is interesting, but my point is this: life is difficult for my spirit. I want to at once champion the causes of all the downtrodden in this world, and at the same time, a voice in my head reasonably tells me that (a) I am hopelessly Western-minded and (b) I won’t make a dent. (Unfortunately, the second point never stops me from doing anything. Note Walmart example.)

So what now? Shall I stop buying flowers and quit my chocolate cravings? Shall I picket in front of flower stands in supermarkets and hand out fliers about child laborers? Believe me, part of me wants to. But you know what moderates me? Television. OK, better put, education. Explanation: when I was much younger (I believe I was in high school), I watched this series on this news program. Every day they explored some facet of food. The first day was about how meat packing was gross and how the processing and handling of meat in markets and even in restaurants were appalling. OK. I can stop eating meat. The next day was about eating out. Even top-tier restaurants are gross. OK. I can stop eating out, my adolescent mind reasoned. The next day was about vegetables sold in supermarkets. I was starting to get uncomfortable. OK, I can grow my own stuff. The next day was about soil conditions and water quality that would impact gardens. I was close to deciding not to eat anything at all for the rest of my life. 

I believe there are things that can be done to better our lives and better the lives of others. I believe that we are compelled to do this, especially as Christians who claim to follow Christ and have been created in His image. I believe that we ought to do our best to be engaged in service and social justice. I want to support causes and do my best to protect humanity. I don’t think that it looks like simple boycotting. Because as much as my withdrawal of support of Walmart draws questions and teaching opportunities, it doesn’t change lives. And that’s what I want. I want to change lives. I want to change the world.

I don’t know how I got here from a Valentine’s Day post. I don’t know how I’ll change the world. But I believe education has a lot to do with it. And I don’t care where I am, or how I’m doing it, but I want to do what I am doing with joy and fervor. Because God is my Employer (whew. And my teacher. Boy do I remember the lessons I learned during that time.) Because He is enough for me (I lectured my girls on this on Valentine’s Day. “Don’t get into a relationship unless God is enough for you first!”) Because God’s vision is different from my vision, and I trust Him. He never did me harm. He always sustained me. He always fulfilled me. He always gave me what I needed.

I trust that will never change. Because He never changes. Because His love for me was the only constant in my life, even while my moods and inclinations and heart changed.   

So today, I am grateful for God. My bedrock. My strong tower. My fortress. Today is a Psalm 91 day. (The link jumps to the Message/New American Standard parallel. My dad made us all memorize this when I was a kid. It’ll take a little relearning.)

Here’s to God being enough, and here’s to all the other beautiful loves in life. 

Dear 2012, 

I keep hitting “2010″ when I try to type your name, but please don’t be offended. By now, you should know that I’m bad with names, and you should also know that I’ll probably forget yours until March. OK fine, maybe even June. Also, I know it’s a few days in, but I’m not one to be overly sentimental about dates and such.  

Your predecessor, 2011, left some marks on me. It was somewhat of a struggle. But on my way down from New York, where I had gone to visit my parents, I heard something interesting on the radio. It brought back a flood of memories and ideas on not only how I want to approach you, but how I want to remember what has passed. 

The program was about happiness, and the attainment of it. It was a comprised of a multifaith panel of four people: the Dalai Lama (the 14^th), the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church in the US (Dr. Katherine Schori), Chief Rabbi of Great Britain (Lord Jonathan Sacks), and an eminent Muslim scholar (Dr. Seyyed Nasr).

Some ideas they brought out targeted the response to suffering and tragedy. I appreciated the words of the Dalai Lama: “..when we face some sort of sad thing, if you look very closely and it looks unbearable, [sic] look from distance. There’s not that much that’s unbearable.”

And then Rabbi Sacks: “The definition of a Jew, Israel, is as it says in Genesis 34, one who struggles, wrestles, with God and with humanity and prevails. And Jacob says something very profound to the Angel. He says, “I will not let you go until you bless me.” And that is how I feel about suffering. When something bad happens, I will not let go of that bad thing until I have discovered the blessing that lies within it.”

This reminds me of a discipline I used to have. A phrase I used to moderate myself. I called it “embracing my suffering.” I distinctly remember teaching myself what it meant to “press against the blade.” Because I believed that it was this blade that would cut away at all the ugliness inside. I became comfortable addressing my faults and allowing God to iron them out. Trials and even grumpiness was welcomed as a means to find the roots and tease them out. Perhaps I’ve lost that view for a while.

So, 2012, I will come at you with the burdens I’ve embraced from 2011. From letting the trials and thrills of the past year help me to approach you a better, more renewed person. I will not let 2011 go without a blessing.

I also want to remind myself that there is nothing that cannot be overcome. No fault in character that cannot be laid at the feet of Jesus and eradicated. No trial that is too large. Nothing so precious as not to give in service and love to God and the dreams He has given me. That whatever comes my way from you, I will not approach with sullenness or discontent, but with a willing heart. I want to remember what it is to grow in grace.

I named your predecessor “The Year of Yes.” I lost that concept about midway through, but it turns out that it was aptly named. It was meant to be a year of saying “yes” to calls of ministry. But it was that and much more. I found myself saying “yes” to letting God share my fries. I said “yes” to the question of if I would be ok with the fact that some questions may never be answered in this lifetime. I said “yes” to risks and leaps of faith and love.

I will not name you. No, you will not be the Year of Pressing Into the Blade. I will allow you to be free to do the work you will do in my life without a lens through which I will be observing it. But in my heart, I want you to see me in a closer walk with the One I love most. I want you to see me in closer and deeper devotion to Him and His work. I want you to see me loving without dissimulation and discretion, without respect of status, history, or even character. I want you to see me pursuing knowledge and faith, and deepening in my devotions to God and to the ones I love. 

A friend of mine wrote about how resolutions should be reaffirmations of our priorities. The preceding is a reaffirmation of my priorities. I want to remember them. 

Thanks for an excuse to wax eloquent and a chance to make changes.

Love,
One Cow on One of the Thousand Hills 

[Comments disabled. Please comment on post below or message if you have something to say to me. Should you have an addendum that you would like to address to 2012, do it on your own blog. ]

O Hound of Heaven, how I have found that relenting to Your ragged breath on my back has resulted in such bliss… it is not the lion that ravaged my soul, but a lamb.

“But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.” -CS Lewis, Mere Christianity