Actually, this isn't an interruption; it is the end. Yup, I am moving. Homeschool blogger is just a bit of a pain to use so I am heading over to blogspot. You can find me at: http://soonendinjoy.blogspot.com/.  I have toyed with the idea of switching for a while now, but I finally got frustrated enough with formatting problems and whatnot that I am heading over to something a little more friendly to computer dummies like me.  I am still in testing mode over at blogspot, but that shouldn't last long. Meanwhile, I'll be keeping this blog open for archives and so that I can still talk to my friends here. (((Hi mom!)))  Hope you will come and visit!

Well, Christmas is over and I am still humming Christmas songs. Our local Christian radio station is gradually tapering off on the number of carols it is playing and I for one find that infinitely preferable to a sudden end on the day after Christmas.  Christmas is always a time of looking forward to heaven for me.   Looking back at the time when the Word became flesh and dwelt among men and allowed them to behold the glory of God Himself makes me long for the day when I myself will see Him, with my own eyes and not another's. 

Last night, a dear saint and sister in the Lord completed her battle with cancer and went home to her King.   We have known for awhile that her pain was almost ended, but it still hit me with a jolt when I heard that she was dying.  It flashed through my mind then that the same could be said of me.  Rick Holland once used the illustration of a doctor coming to brand new parents and telling them "I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do.   Seventy-five years, eighty, maybe even ninety; but your baby is dying."  Our birth begins our journey to the grave so why does it still feel so sudden when someone arrives at the destination?

I am so happy for Jessie.  She is without pain for the first time in a long time.  And to see Jesus' face and finally be completely without sin!  My joy for her spills over almost into jealousy, though that is really too strong and negative a word to use.  I am at once happy for her, sad for the loss of her here, and wishing that I was where she is now. Paul describes the conflicting desire a Christian experiences between living and dying in Phillippians 1:21-24  which says "For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.  If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell.  I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account."

A Christian really lives a very strange life if you look at through a worldly lens.  Hebrews 11:13-16 comes to mind:  "These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland.  If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city."  The Old Testament saints looked forward to Christ's coming and most died before seeing it. We look back to see Christ's first coming and forward to the time when we will receive the promises of full sanctification and eternity. A longing for death is not a strange thing in the believer because it is really a longing for heaven. That does not make sense to someone who has no hope for heaven. 

While reading Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis last night, I came across the following passage. It was one of those times when I thought "How on earth did this writer get into my brain and so completely and perfectly describe the painful, hopeful, joyous poignancy of this longing?"  It also reminded me of a conversation I had with Miss Jessie over a year ago.  She talked about heaven and how much she looked forward to seeing Jesus. I wish I could remember it with more clarity.  Here is what C.S. Lewis had to say about it through one of his fictional characters who was facing death.

“I have always—at least, ever since I can remember—had a kind of longing for death.”

“Ah, Psyche,” I said, “have I made you so little happy as that?”

“No, no, no,” she said. “You don’t understand. Not that kind of longing. It was when I was happiest that I longed most. It was on happy days when we were up there on the hills, the three of us, with the wind and the sunshine… where you couldn’t see Glome or the palace. Do you remember? The colour and the smell, and looking across the Grey Mountain in the distance? And because it was so beautiful, it set me longing, always longing. Somewhere else there must be more of it. Everything seemed to be saying, Psyche, come! But I couldn’t (not yet) come and I didn’t know where I was to come to. It almost hurt me. I felt like a bird in a cage when the other birds of its kind are flying home."

It is comforting to know that Christ shares our desire for us to be in His presence.  During His high priestly prayer in John 17, Jesus prays for the time when the believers will be united with Him in heaven. Verse 24 say, "Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world."   

 My mind is currently a swirling conglomeration of songs, quotes, and verses which is why it is not a surprise to me that this post seems more made up of quotes than anything else.  I am working on choosing music for my spring ballet recital. Surprise, surprise that all the songs that jump out at me have the common theme of heaven.  Only one of them has been moved from the possibilities list to the positively list and that is Martyr's Song by Todd Agnew.  It has a beautiful melody so find someplace to listen to it if you can. The words are beautiful by themselves though and you can read them here: http://www.newreleasetuesday.com/lyricsdetail.php?lyrics_id=4945 

Please keep Jessie's family in your prayers, especially her husband who had a mild heart attack this week as a result of all the stress. 

Be still my soul

 The hour is hastening on

When we shall be forever with the Lord.

After three months of anticipation, stress, and hard work, my sisters and I loaded into the car this evening and headed to the Nutcracker.  My two littlest sisters spent the evening dancing while the three of us older girls enjoyed watching and whispering about how our sisters were prettier than everyone else’s.  I was the rehearsal mistress (nice title, huh?)  for all the local children who performed, so during each of their dances I held my breath until it was over. They did a great job and none of the stage mom’s crucified me at the end, so all is well.  I still think my sisters were the cutest and bestest dancers though. 

Julia was one of the Christmas angels who come to celebrate the Nutcracker’s victory and his and Clara’s arrival to the Land of Sweets.  The angels were my favorite group to rehearse; they were so attentive in class and worked so hard to apply corrections.  Once they were on stage, it was obvious how well they knew the dance.  I was so pleased.

Emma got a part as one of the party guests in act one.  She was the smallest girl to audition for the party guest scene, so her part was especially fun.  In addition to getting to be near the front for all the dances, she was also carried off the stage asleep by her stage father at the end of the party. All of the stage parents seemed to fawn over her, or perhaps it was just my proud sister/teacher imagination.  She looked breathtaking on stage.

I did pay attention to the ballet even when my sisters were not dancing. The Waltz of The Flowers and the Russian trio continue to be my favorites.  I must admit though, I am slightly appalled at Idahoan’s lack of understanding when it comes to ballet-going.  No one knows when to clap, so the applause always sounds tentative.  And for goodness sakes, ballet is a dress-up occasion people! Black jeans, sweatshirts, and t-shirts are inappropriate!  Jumping off of my soap box now…sorry…ahem.

Where were we? Oh yes, ballet etiquette.  I am really not as stuffy as I seem. Stuffy people do not believe in bringing children to events like The Nutcracker; I believe that if at all possible you should come with at least one child who is happy to be there, preferably two or three.  Honestly, you will find the experience is ten times as enjoyable when you get to hear a little one’s insight and opinions. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to bring any young ones with us, but several people around us bought theirs. In general, I disapprove of children speaking loudly during ballets, but the one in the row behind us was so obliviously adorable that I quickly forgave her when she said of the Sugarplum Fairy’s Cavalier, “Mom, he’s dancin’ like a girl!”.  The mom was horrified and bemoaned during intermission that she was positive the guy must have heard her.   I don’t know about that, but everyone within a four row circumference did! As the angels danced around the Sugarplum Fairy a bit later, we heard the same girl say, “Momma? Are they angels? Is she teachin’ ‘em how to fly?”.  Precious.

I.  Am. So. Glad. It’s. Over.  Yes, it was good experience. Yes, I am grateful for the opportunity. But now I have my Saturdays back, and I don’t have to worry about parents assuming their daughter is in the back row because I have a personal vendetta against them,  and I no longer have to answer questions that assume my omniscience.   Forward into Christmas planning!

Mary's song from Luke 1:46-55 is one of the best known prayers in the Bible after the Lord's Prayer.  Following Elizabeth's greeting upon Mary's arrival to her home, Mary gives this poetic hymn of praise; filled with rich words telling of the greatness of the Lord.  It is sometimes called the Magnificat from the first word of the passage in the Latin Vulgate, translated "magnify" in English.

This has always been one of my favorite passages of Scripture. I remember memorizing the first four verses of the passage the Christmas when I was 12 or 13. Part of its appeal lies in the sheer beauty of the words. What I most love about it is the way Mary's heart shows through, revealing someone who humbly acknowledges her unworthiness by gratefully extolling God's past and present works.  Her song is filled with thankfulness for God's grace to her and to Israel. It reminds me of the attitude I should have as a recipient of that same saving grace.

In "Expository Thoughts on the Gospel's", J.C. Ryle points out five aspects of Mary's character demonstrated by this passage.

First, with its nearly constant allusions to the Old Testament, it demonstrates a heart in love with the Scriptures. Mary had clearly saturated herself in the Word. 

Secondly, it displays her humility. Even when given the high honor of being the mother of the Messiah, she speaks of her low estate and admits her need of a Savior (vs 46).  Her focus is on magnifying the Lord and not herself, though from a sinful human standpoint it would seem she had the right to a bit of pride in her position.

Thirdly, her thankfulness is prominent. Obviously, this flows out of the previous point. Her thanks comes from seeing God use her in spite of her unworthiness.  Her thankfulness is also similar to that which is later expressed by Anna and Simeon in getting to see the coming of the long-awaited Messiah. (Luke 2:22-40) 

Fourthly, it shows her understanding of God's former dealings with his people.  In the second half of the passage she recounts His past deeds, focusing on His might and ending on His mercy.

Fifthly, we see the firm grasp that Mary had on the Bible's promises.  Her soul was anchored on the hope that God would fulfill what He had said to Abraham, Isaac, David, and the Prophets.  This is why she rejoiced.

Even though Mary is a wonderful example of what a Christian life should look like, this passage really points to God's character more than to hers. We call her blessed not because of her own merit, but because of the unmerited favor that the Lord bestowed on her. Mary admits her unworthiness and points to God's holiness and then to His mercy.  His holiness requires us to be holy before we can approach Him. In His mercy, He sent His Son to satsify that requirement. 

Because the sinless Savior died, my sinful soul is counted free;

For God, the just, is satisfied to look on Him and pardon me.

I love Mary's song because I can sing it with the same joy that she had. God observed my sinful state and brought me to salvation. I can take delight in His promise that He will complete the work He has begun and will one day bring me home to Him (Phil 1:28, John 16:22).  I am blessed.

 And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”  ~Luke 1:46-55

I would like to point you over to this post from Girl Talk today. This thought on one of Spurgeon's quotes is definately worth taking a moment to read and is far better than anything I could write.  There are so many great blogs out there in cyberspace; I find myself reading them and wondering how I can be so puffed up as to think I could write something worth reading. Anyway, here it is. 

 http://girltalk.blogs.com/girltalk/2008/11/roll-your-burde.html 

Enjoy! I am off to work on choreography. The weekend is almost here, but mine doesn't actually start until noon on Saturday anymore.  Looking forward to it.

...17yo sister awakens the rest of the family by banging out the very loud descending scale from her Sonatina.

...15yo sister is in one of the bedrooms singing her warm up scales. 8yo and 11yo sisters are teasing her by purposely singing in  the wrong key.

...12yo brother is working on piano theory. He keeps interrupting the descending scale in order to ask another question about sixth notes.

...Mom is holding the pillow over her head.

... I am trying to remember where I set my ballet notebook so that I can work on lesson plans.

...11yo and 8yo sisters are asking what time they can get dressed for ballet.

...12yo brother is chanting "Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge" in an attempt to memorize the lines of the treble cleff.

Monday is voice/ballet/piano lesson day!

At least I am not on facebook.

 I have been studying voraciously for tomorrow's CLEP test on American Literature and I just really need a break.  This test requires a knowledge of every great American author and an understanding of the plot lines and agendas of each of their major works. Problem is, I have my own opinions on which authors are great and which works should be considered major works.  For one thing, I would totally remove Whitman and Thoreau from every text book and library anywhere with the only exception being Whitman's "Oh Captain, My Captain!". Thoreau was a lazy bum who felt that work was a waste of his mental faculties, so he spent two years camping next to a friend's pond and then proceeded to write down every thought that entered his head during those two years. Whitman's poems were so depraved and immoral that no publisher would touch them and John Greenleaf Whittier threw them in the fire upon reading them. I think we ought to respect the obviously wise judgement of the author of "Snowbound" and do the same.  Poets like E.E. Cummings and Ezra Pound seem to have missed the fact that one writes in order to communicate.  Works that are open to any interpretation are not worth reading.

Then of course, there is the long list of suicides, adulterers, fornicators, mental cases, drunkards, and generally immoral writers.  Honestly, I am tempted to count just how many of these people died of self-induced deaths. There was a great shortage of deaths due to natural causes.  Interestingly, the authors who had the worst outlooks on life were the those influenced by naturalism and darwinism. Some don't seem to have any excuse except for the fact that they are unredeemed. Look at Edgar Allan Poe. The man had a brilliant mind and he spent most of his life drinking it to dullness.

On the other hand, there are some fabulous American authors, ones which I would happily boast about: Hawthorne, Alcott, Stowe, Whittier, Frost, Bradford, Twain. Unfortunately, this is another area where the text book/test writers and myself differ. I think that Louisa May Alcott was probably the best American fiction writer aside from Twain. Longfellow was the best poet ever period, and Harriet Beecher Stowe was an amazing woman as well as a writer.  Alcott and Longfellow are barely nodded at by my study materials and Stowe is made fun of for her sentimentality, Christian belief, and for having a large family.  Can you tell that I don't like my text book a whole ton? It is quite the jump to go from Abeka literature to a liberal curriculum.

I really am enjoying my studies, even if you cannot tell that from this post. I understand the importance of knowing where the differing world views came from and how they developed and why. I've even discovered a few more authors whose works are great! Anna Bradstreet and Phillis Wheatley are two such poets. As I study, I am keeping a running list of works I want to read soon. Wonder when I will have time to read for pleasure? My next test is English Lit, than Humanities after that. I think I'll wait to tackle my reading list until after all my Literature tests are done. Hopefully I will still feel like reading by then.

My brother came and crawled up on my lap earlier, an occurance that is becoming pretty rare. As we talked about legos and Narnia the following conversation ensued.

ME: "I want you to stay 6 forever. Can't you stay 6 years old?"

HIM: "Well, I'm getting older already. I'm gonna be 7 next."

ME: "Yes, but couldn't you stay 6 and not turn 7?"

HIM: "But it's going to happen! I don't know why, but it just keeps hapenin'."

ME: "But if you just decided to turn 6 again on your next birthday, and on all your other birthdays, won't that work?"

HIM with brows knit together: "Hmmm, I don't think it will work."

ME: "Why not? Please? For me?"

HIM, reluctantly: "Hmm, okay, I guess."

(He leaves and comes back a few minutes later)

HIM: "I just figured somethin' out. When people's sister's ask them to stay 6, they still get bigger, even if the age stays the same."

ME: "Well then, maybe you could stay the same size too?"

HIM, very patiently: "But it will be wierd when I get bigger and bigger, big as Grampa. People won't know I'm still 6, they'll think I am older than that!"

ME: "You are pretty smart."

HIM: "Yeah, I know. I noticed."

ME: "I guess you'll just have to grow up than and turn 7."

HIM: "Yeah."

ME: "I wish you could stay 6 though."

HIM: "Well, it will take a long time."

ME: "Are you sure?"

HIM: "Yep, it always does. I'll be 6 a long time. And it will take even longer to get even bigger. It took a long time for me to get this big.

Oh Little Man, if only that was true.

HIM: "Hey, did you know I can count to 100 by 5's? Want to hear me?"

Our family recently spent a few days in the hills on a hunting/camping trip. The hunters were successful, bringing home two does, and the campers were cold as it snowed off and on for the whole duration of the trip. Vacations like this always offer the possibility of fun food (Smores and Ding dongs anyone?), ridiculously messy RV's (don't ask how many times we swept the mud out), priceless memories (my sister shot the deer through the eye; 'nuff said), and of course, quotables!

Quotables are those wonderful phrases that occur when we are operating on caffeine and sugar.  They are the things that come out of our mouths unexpectedly, causing us all to stop then burst into laughing fits. These phrases make no sense when used out of context or when recounted to anyone not present when they were spoken. Each has a great story behind them, but they would only sound weirder (yes I know it isn't a word, I like it any way) if I tried to explain.  I decided to write these down as they occurred this time, since we always forget them eventually.  So here are the especially enjoyable ones!

"Don't drop chocolate on my head unless my mouth is open."

"Oh, don't bother to look it up, just tell me!"

"It sounded different the second time."

"Help me read the signs."

"The next time we see anything civilized, let's potty."

"What are you writing?!?!"

"I meant to check the speed limit 'cause it is a good idea to take advice."

"Only if I drool!"

"Crudnation it all!"

"It went all the way to the boing."

"Look at all the smoke to the left! Never mind, I just fogged up my window."

"Can you hand me my fanny? No! I meant my backpack! the one I wear around my waist!"

It was very pleasant to get away from everything for some time with family. With the economic mess effecting Daddy's job and my schedule filled to overflowing, I was desperately looking forward to some time to be with family without having the distraction of internet and places to go.  We had a great time and our freezer is now full!

The ballet teacher's job is two-fold. First, to teach dance technique. Second, To teach the love of dance. Both aspects are critical to a good dancer. Without the love of dancing, it does not matter how good of a dancer you are; you will never be worth watching. Can you ever be truly good at something that is drudgery? Attitude shows in dance. Whether you love it with a passion or hate it with a vengeance, your audience will be able to discern what your true feelings are.  

It is this second aspect which I often find difficult as a teacher. My students only see me dance for fourty-five minutes a week. During that time, they had better see a dancer who loves the art that she teaches, regardless of whether or not I am exhausted and wondering if I really do like dance at the moment. They do not see me jump out of bed in the middle of the night to write down the step sequence that just came to me, or spin and leap in my living room, choreographing dances which no one will ever see. I must convey to them in forty-five minutes, the delight of controlling your body, making it do what you tell it to do, feeling the good pain of hard working muscles, and moving in harmony with music.

Enthusiasm is not enough though. Carefully, I must mold their bodies into the rigid shapes and movements required by classical ballet. I must teach them not only how to do a step right, but also how to do it beautifully. Bad habits cannot be allowed to form. They will result in worse technique later, or worse, in potentially lifelong injuries.

 Students must be taught to chase after perfection; never becoming satisfied with the latest acheivement, but always striving towards the next level.  A balance is maintained though; frustration and discouragement can squelch the love of dancing.

In addition to all this, I desire to constantly point my girls to the One who created their bodies. They must learn that while it is their responsibility to bo their absolute best,  they must give the glory for their accomplishments to the One who gave them their ability. Their desire to excel must stem from their desire to honor Christ in all they do.

When confronted with my responsibilty as a teacher, I am a bit overwhelmed, and very humbled. I do not feel very equal to this task. I am so grateful to have a group of truly eager students this year. If this is what my job is in order to teach ballet, how enormous is the job of parenting! I only train their bodies, their parents train their souls.

An empty window...what to put in it? My mind is swirling with lots of topics. It is so hard to settle my mind down and choose one. I should just go to bed, but I know all these things will only rotate 'round and 'round if I don't put them to rest in writing. Funny how little facts and details become ignormous (five year old boy's pronounciation) at night. Things that I can ignore during the day are impossible to be rid of when I am laying in bed. Things like organizing my dance folder and writing October's devotional before ballet classes start. Then figuring out how on earth to make my schedule work with all the things I am trying to stuff in it.  Wishing I had gotten around to making bread this morning. Wondering if my precious little sparkie boys behaved in school today.  Thinking about the horrific book review I read that made me desperately want to adopt every single child on the planet. Things like the numerous blogs I have read that have alternately made me laugh and  made my blood boil. Like Al Mohler's post on euthenasia and WMB post on the abortion of Down's Syndrome babies. (http://www.albertmohler.com/blog_read.php?id=2542 and http://online.worldmag.com/2008/09/25/a-selfish-choice-or-a-gift-from-god/)

Wow, that paragraph contained an impressive number of incomplete sentances.  Anyway...

Maybe it is my oldest-child-personality that so struggles with my inability to control all these details. I want to DO SOMETHING about all the things that I am thinking about tonight. I want to go to the far off reaches of everywhere and take care of all the babies that are unwanted, tuck in all the motherless little boys, and somehow change the minds of all these people that have such a low respect for the sanctity of life.  None of these things are within my ability to do tonight. I have always wanted to do "big things". My struggle is to say "Lord, this is not within the task you have given me for this moment Let me trust You with all the things that are too impossibly big for me to fix." Because truthfully,  everything is too big for me to fix. Why on earth do I feel like it is my personal responsibiblity to fix everything that is wrong? Sometimes I feel like Emma: "a young lady who knew how this world ought to be run."  God is sovereign, and for that I am thankful. He is wise, He is good, and He knows what He is doing in this sinful earth. No, that does not remove my responsibility to do what I can to make a difference, but it does remove my responsibility for the results.

So letting these things go into His hands tonight so that I can sleep.  

If Summer was a symphony, September is a minuet.

I can not remember who said the above quote, but I am appreciating its reality this year. What a very long, short, busy, summer it has been.  I have never liked September before this year.  In the past it has meant the end of the wonderful bustle of warm weather activities.  After fair ends on Labor Day, September can feel like a let down after months of excitement.

This year though, September holds anticipation. The promise of cooler weather makes me think about getting out scarves and sweaters and getting some baking done.  I'll be returning to school work at the end of this month after a year's break, and Awana starts again in just one and a half weeks. I'm not sure what activities will all be included in my fall schedule, but the prospects have me pleasantly content to wait for them What a big change from my normal attitude of having to know what is going to happen far in advance!

The summer has been long and short at the same time. I could say that it has not been one of my favorite summers in some ways, but in the next breath I could just as easily say it has been the best summer of my life thus far. It has not contained as much "fun" as I had hoped (with the notable exception of the Russia trip). But God has enlarged my view of Him and His goodness. He has not changed since the beginning of the summer, but my appreciation of His love, providence, and patience has undergone a transformation. There was no life changing moment that I could point to to show this; just a million little examples of Him revealing more of His character to me through answered prayers, unnecessary blessings, and His obvious working through situations where I didn't even think to ask for His provision. He has truly allowed me to taste and see that He is good. I hope that this knowledge holds over into trials. It is easy to say "Praise You!" when the future looks bright, much harder when I have no clue where I am heading. I just feel like I am finally getting to see around the bend in the road after a year of peering through fog. By His grace, I hope I will not forget this summer's display of the Lord's love and providence.

So anyway, I am currently rejoicing in sunflowers, corn fields, and day dreams. God's in His heaven, all is right with the world.

~What kind of God is it who asks everything of us? The same God who "...did not spare His own Son, but gave him up for us all;and with this gift how can He fail to lavish upon us all He has to give?" He gives all. He asks all.

~Until the will and affections are brought under the authority of Christ, we have not begun to understand, let alone to accept, His lordship.

~...the heart set to do the Father's will need never fear defeat. His promises of guidance may be fully counted on. Does it make sense that the Shepherd would care less about getting His sheep where He wants them than they care about getting there?

~I realized that the deepest spiritual lessons are not learned by His letting us have our way in the end, but by His making us wait, bearing with us in love and patience until we are able to honestly say... "Thy will be done".

~If the yearnings went away, what would we have to offer to the Lord? Aren't they given to us to offer? It is the control of passion, not its eradication, that is needed. How would we learn to submit to the authority of Christ if we had nothing to submit?

~My heart was saying "Lord, take away my longing, or give me that for which I long.' The Lord was answering, "I must teach you to long for something better."

~God gives us the matterial for sacrifice...The very longings themselves can be offered to Him Who understands perfectly...What will He do with these offerings? Never mind. He knows what to do.

And one last one from Jim Elliot...

~Let not our longing slay our appetite for living...Obediance involves for us, not physical suffering, perhaps, nor social ostracism, as it has for some, but this warring with worries and regrets, this bringing into captivity our thoughts.

Regular readers of my blog (all three of you!) will notice some changes I have made to my template and links. I did it all by myself! I have no knowledge of html, so I scanned my template page until I found words in english, then tried to remember what a url address is, and eventually I got sunflowers at the top of my page instead of a dragon fly. Impressed? I am!

Don't get too attatched to my sunflowers though, I'll be switching them for something fallish in a few more weeks. Sunflowers are the perfect symbol of late summer. The country roads are lined with them here. What a delight!

July is almost over! I can't believe I am excited about this. For the first time in my life, I am looking forward to Fall and to cooler weather.  This may have something to do with a tiny change from my past summers: WORK. A large portion of my summer days thus far (with the exception of two weeks in Russia) has been spent hoeing a very large field. I am so grateful for the pay, but I am also so looking forward to not having to do it anymore. From 6 a.m.  to 2:30 p.m., I am by myself with very little conversation with anyone. I have decided that conversations about watermelons, pumpkins, or zucchinis do not count as conversation.  Conversations with watermelons, pumpkins or zucchinis do not count either,  because they don't talk back.  Conversations with bees don't count because bees don't speak any language I can understand, and conversations with earwigs and spiders don't count because any interaction with them primarily involves me gasping, holding back shrieks, and frantically shaking them off of me.  I wonder if I am a bit too much of a girly-girl for this job?

I remember reading about a study which figured the average number of words a woman says each day as opposed to a man. Unsurprisingly, men say way less than women and they have usually used up the majority of their words before coming home from work.  I am trying to figure out how to fit an entire day's worth of words into the evenings.

I am very grateful for the money despite the  sweating, bugs, and hard labor.  I am hoping to switch to part-time in mid September so that I can get ready to start teaching ballet in October.  Hopefully I will be all the way done by November so that my attention can be more fully turned to this: http://www.collegeplus.org/  In the meantime, I am continuing to hoe in order to pay for it. 

So, I intend to spend the next month talking to myself and to pumpkins in the field. I have found that listening to my mp3 player really helps the morning to go faster.  I finished listening to the 2008 Resolved conference sessions last week. They can be found here. http://www.resolved.org/  Highly recommend them and I am really looking forward to next year's conference which I plan to attend with my Sis and my Daddy.  Now I'm listening to the sessions from Together for the Gospel conference.  Go here http://t4g.org/08/media/ to download.  These are probably a better use of my time than talking to pumpkins.

Do you remember that part in Little Women where the sisters are telling their Christmas wishes? Meg Wishes they had money for pretty clothes and things. Joe doesn't want to work for old Aunt March. Amy wants new drawing pencils. Beth just wants father to be home from the war.  All of the girls agree with her; father at home again is what they want most. 

Then Marmee comes in with a letter from father and they all settle in to listen as he tells them of his love and prayers for them, and how he desires them to grow into good little women. When Marmee has finished, Amy says in a small voice, "I'm a selfish girl." The drawing pencils, which moments ago were so coveted, now seem like a tiny thing compared to all that father was sacrificing and doing.

So often I feel like Amy; pouting about my little cares and wants. At times, my longing doesn't even seem to be specifically for something, but is rather a nameless discontent. When a verse or an incident convicts my conscience and puts things into perspective, then I go quietly to my Father and confess, "I am a selfish girl." How I want to be like Beth, looking and longing only for my Father's return! To find my satisfaction and my joy working in anticipation of His coming.  To not be distracted by pencils, pretty clothes, and today's burdens. To be totally given up to His will.

My brother brought this unique creation to me and said "It looks like you!"

He named it Ballerina Bionicle in my honor. Now wasn't that sweet?

In case you couldn't tell, this is a most decidedly taunting smile.

Earlier this month, my mother and I had a wonderful time at our church's women's retreat. Good food, pretty scenery, great fellowship and fantastic teaching! The only thing I would change would be to have retreats every year instead of every other. (Hint, hint, mom! And whoever else is responsible for making that discision! )

Our  theme was Living On the Alter from Romans 12:1-2. Over the weekend we had four sessions focusing on becoming an acceptable, working, and delightful sacrifice. Our last session, Offering Up a Sacrifice of Thanksgiving, was uncomfortably convicting as our speaker challenged us on thankfulness through, in, and for trials.  She also shared a poem by Fanny Crosby that I had never read previously.  I'll post it at the end of this entry.

A definate highlight of the trip was being with mom! I also enjoyed getting to know some of the other ladies better.  The small group time following each session was a blessed time of encouragement and building one another up.

For What His Love Denies

by Fanny Crosby

God does not give me all I ask, 

Nor answer as I pray;

 But, O my cup is brimming o'er

With blessings day by day.

How oft the joy I thought withheld

 Delights my longing eyes,

 And so I thank Him from my heart

For what His love denies.

Somtimes I miss a treasured link

In friendship's hallowed chain,

And yet His smile is my reward

For every throb of pain.

I look beyond, where purer joys

Delight my longing eyes,

And so I thank Him from my heart

 For what His love denies.

How tenderly He leadeth me

When earthly hopes are dim;

And when I falter by the way,

He bids me lean on Him.

 He lifts my soul above the clouds

Where friendship never dies;

And so I thank Him from my heart

 For what His love denies.

I know that the first day of spring was a good while back, but it hasn't felt like spring until this weekend. I celebrated a gorgeous weekend of sunshine, no clouds, and very little wind, by donning flip-flops! Normally, I wear flip-flops on the first day of spring regardless of what the weather is doing. This year, I wasn't in the mood to have snow on my bare toes for the sake of tradition, so I decided to call the 12th of April the first day of spring.

Sis and I worked on clearing out flower beds today, and I tried to get a little bit of color on my lower legs without burning them. Quite the trick for this red-head! I started imagining how painful sun burnt legs would be and moved into the shade. Oh well, maybe fish-belly-blindingly-white skin will be in style soon! It is better than cherry-red anyway.

All the younger siblings played outside from the time we got home from church until dark.  My 5yo brother came in this evening looking like Pigpen from the Peanuts comic strip. Remember, the kid that goes around with a cloud of dust around him? Little Brother's normally brown hair was gray. When mom told him there was dirt in his hair he tried to shake it out, only to be met with a chorus of "No!" from his sisters. Pour boy, females are so hard to please.

Visions of summer are floating through my head. Sunday picnics, swimming, softball, camping trips, snow cones, VBS, mocha frappichinos, 4-H,  flip-flops! On top of all that, there is the mission trip my daddy and I are going on in a couple of months. Our family will be busy with fundraising things between now and then. 

In spite of all my excitement for summer, I am having to face the grim reality that totally carefree summers are behind me, at least for this year.  I have been extremely blessed to get a good summer job that is within biking distance from home. It also has great hours (7:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.) so my afternoons and evenings will be free.  I wonder what else this summer will hold.

"Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a slave, being made in the likeness of man. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obediant to the point of death, even death on a cross. For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of the Father." Phillipians 2: 5-11

"If you address as Father the One who impartially judges according to each one's work, conduct yourselves in fear during the time of your stay on earth; knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ. For He was foreknown before the foundation of the world, but has appeared in these last times for the sake of you who through Him are believers in God, who raised Him from the dead and gave Him glory, so that your faith and hope are in God." 1^st Peter 1:17-21

"For Christ did not enter a holy place made with hands, a mere copy of the true one, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us; nor was it that He would offer Himself often, as the high priest enters the holy place year by year with blood that is not his own. Otherwise, He would have needed to suffer often since the foundation of the world; but now once at the consummation of the ages He has been manifested to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. And inasmuch as it is appointed for men to die once and after this comes judgment, so Christ also, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time for salvation without reference to sin, to those who eagerly await Him." Hebrews 9:24-28

“For He rescued us from the domain of darkness, and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities--all things have been created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything. For it was the Father's good pleasure for all the fullness to dwell in Him, and through Him to reconcile all things to Himself, having made peace through the blood of His cross; through Him, I say, whether things on earth or things in heaven. And although you were formerly alienated and hostile in mind, engaged in evil deeds, yet He has now reconciled you in His fleshly body through death, in order to present you before Him holy and blameless and beyond reproach--if indeed you continue in the faith firmly established and steadfast, and not moved away from the hope of the gospel that you have heard, which was proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul, was made a minister.”  Colossians 1:13-23