You Can Find it Anywhere

            The world is up in arms. Facebook has become the ultimate hub for prophetic quotes and end-of-the-world status updates and second amendment war cries. Facebook, go home. You talk too much and solve too little.
            This week we were shocked with the bombings in Boston and the explosion in Texas, making social media and world news spring to action. We mourn the deaths of free, innocent Americans. I mourn. My heart goes out to the parents and the brothers and the aunts and the coworkers and friends who lost, perhaps, the most influential person in their lives, or are now watching by their hospital bed.

            The events were, and are, very horrific. Do not suppose that I make light of these tragedies. They took human lives, and these lives were dearly valuable.

            But I found this last week interesting. Does it really take two bombs and an explosion to see the brokenness of the world? 

            The woman announcing on the radio today sent her heartfelt sympathies to Texas, which was comforting to hear. 
            But when was the last time the radio sent their heartfelt sympathies to the girls sitting outside planned parenthood? 15 people were killed yesterday and it made national news, as it should have. But 4,400 babies were aborted yesterday, and no one said anything. And Facebook didn't erupt. And the Mayor didn't come out to calm his worried townsmen. 

            Thousands of people in our nation volunteered their help, time, and money to the victims in Boston.
            But when was the last time a child died and a twitter page was immediately set up to alert the public of the 16,000 other children who would die of hunger before midnight? Or we rushed to the grocery store and cleared the shelves and set up food lines until all who needed to be fed were filled? The help flooding towards Boston and Texas will not cease until it's deemed that all who need help have been helped.

            Right now the news is saying that 75 houses were leveled in Texas, therefore leaving 75 families homeless.
            They will join the 635,000 other Americans who are homeless. Those invisible people aren't a daily blip on our middle-class radar. We don't wake up and hope that the people who slept under bridges last night are okay. We don't interview them or post pictures of them on CNN. Or what about the 123,000 orphans in America? When you're surrounded by affluence, you tend to only see affluence - unless something like a bomb forces you out. 

http://www.showhope.org/home.aspx

            The president issued a public address following Boston, promising that he would find the perpetrator and bring him to justice. 
            What about those who are trafficking the 14,500 – 17,500 people into the United States every year? Are they being brought to justice? There were a lot of TV shows on last night, but I don't seem to remember a surging amount of popular media bent on ending sex trafficking. Most people would agree that this is an injustice.
            But what's anyone doing about it?  Why isn't social media erupting every single second? According to statistics, around 75% of Americans identify themselves as Christians. That's about 235 million people. 
            235 million people who say they believe the words in James 2:16-17: 
            "And one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead."

            Or Matthew 25:35-40 
           “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

 

            I have come to the conclusion that we are apathetic. We don't like doing in secret. We don't like getting our hands dirty if no one is going to see all the dirt.
           These tragedies are captivating. They captivate our emotions and our energies - not joyously - but as if we cannot pull our eyes away, no matter how horrific the scene. The world likes to be shocked, but there's nothing shocking about a statistic. We forget that those statistics represent very real people. 
            And we should be shocked. We should be shocked by babies being ripped from their mother's wombs. We should be shocked by malnourished children dieing in gutters. We should be shocked by the depravity of humans and the injustices forced upon trafficked victims. We should be shocked with the amount of orphans who are never adopted. 

             Don't let Boston and Texas raise up your emotions for a few weeks, and then in a month of two, let it slip from your mind. May this brokenness stay before us and awaken us to the hurt that was happening before this week, and will continue on even after Boston is swept up and Texas is put back together.

             Let these tragedies actually change who you are and what you are doing with your life. Let them change me. Because we can't just wait for a bomb to go off to spring to action. We have to be working anyway.

           

            If you have not gold or silver ever ready to command, 
            If you cannot toward the needy reach an ever open hand,
            You can visit the afflicted, O'er the erring you can weep;
            You can be a true disciple, sitting at the Savior's feet.

 

            Do not then stand idly waiting for some greater work to do;
            Fortune is a lazy goddess, she will never come to you.
           Go and toil in any vineyard, do not fear to do or dare;
           if you want a field of labor, you can find it anywhere.
          -  Ellen M. H. Gates

            You are forever my judge, and I'm forever your witness, 

           And I pray that I'm always found on a mission about my Father's business.

            - Janette Ikz

            Therefore to him that knows to do good and does it not, to him it is sin. James 4:17

(I am deeply affected over the events of this week, and I do not discount their magnitude or importance. If you know, or were close to, anyone who was injured or affected by these tragedies, my sympathies are wholeheartedly sent to you. I am praying for all of you. 

I do not mean to make light or offend. I mean to beg myself - and all who need an excuse to begin serving - to find that excuse right now. It's right in front of our eyes.)
 

Nerd Girl

I never thought I was a nerd. It never crossed my mind that I could possibly be a nerd. And I'm not about to go labeling myself and saying I am a nerd, because I don't like labels, not on me or anyone else.

So, we'll put it this way: I have some characteristics of a nerd. I'm sure you have the characteristics of some type of person you didn't even think you remotely resembled. It's amazing how much you can discover about yourself.

 I don't have children yet, but I've already named them. Oh dear. Nicholas from Nicholas Nickleby has always held a spot in the options for boy's names.

I am a great admirer of the Sherlock Holmes books and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work, having poured for hours over the short stories, mysteries, adventures and novels that Dr. Watson chronicled.
So my advice to you: don't watch the new movies. I refuse to watch them and so should you. If only the American public would just read the books.

 I admit I have done this. I spent an entire school day reading "Great Expectations" while I should've been doing math or Literature or some other subject I am graded on. But if there was any author this is worth falling behind on school work for, then it is Charles Dickens.

 This happens to me all the time. Most recently, a friend's mother gave the whole "Dark Knight" plot and ending before I had time to run away or plug my ears. I have no hard feelings, but now the movie won't be as exciting. I hope this never happens to you, and I hope I never do this to anyone, though I'm sure I have.

 And no one ever does! For example, what happened today? Frank Sinatra was born in 1915. When the feeling strikes me, I will decorate for random historical events - like the shooting of Jesse James or the sinking of the Titanic - and the family is served a themed dinner. 

I am not ashamed of celebrating the mundane or the unknown.

It makes life more interesting.

Someone asked me what my favorite book was. I told them "Tarzan of the Apes."

Then they asked me why.

I didn't have the time to do the subject justice and the conversation was cut short, but this not the first time someone has asked me to explain a subject I love and I cannot condense my answer without horribly mutating the original subject.

This is when I invite you out for afternoon coffee so I can properly educate you on the subjects I love.

So I guess it is true.
I guess, maybe, I am a nerd.

One Day at a Time

 

I am so sorry for the lack of posts on here. I have my list of excuses, but you probably don't want to hear them. I thought I was going to have a quiet, boring summer - but I happen to be blessed with amazing friends who wrecked those plans.

So much for blowing bubbles on the back deck all afternoon.

My days have been filled with book reading, (I am currently tackling Erasing Hell by Francis Chan and The Wooden Horse by Eric Williams,) local sightseeing, parties, rehearsals, family dinners, work, trips, watching the new Spider-man, (definitely a highlight,) camp, and visiting with out-of-town friends. One of these days I'll get around to making that new pencil-skirt and writing to the Queen of Denmark.

What has your summer been like?

I won't be around until probably August, so go enjoy the humidity, the 104 degrees in the shade, and don't regret the end of the day. Tomorrow is always coming.

Her Majesty the Queen

It is no surprise to those who know me that I love to write letters. I find it a calming pursuit that is much needed in the present culture where handwriting is quickly going down-hill. There is just a lovelier aspect in seeing something handwritten as opposed to seeing something typed and printed.

Last month a friend put the idea in my head of writing to the Queen of England, and the more I thought about it, the more this idea appealed to me. So I pulled out my best paper, carved a seal, (which you can see half of in the above photo,) and started writing. I expressed to the Queen how much I admired her. I congratulated her on her Diamond Jubilee. I told her that it is one of my dreams to visit England. Hours after hard thought and practice letters, and taking great pride in my work, I addressed it.

Her Majesty The Queen
Buckingham Palace
London SW1A 1AA

The day before sending it off. Forgive the dirty mirror.

Last week I headed off to 5 days at camp, figuring that if I did happen to get a reply to my letter, I was months away from receiving it. Once again, my dreams came true. Arriving home tired and sunburned, this is what I found on my bed stand:

(I edited my address from off the envelope.)

It is a pamphlet with beautiful pictures of the Queen and a note saying, "I send you my grateful thanks for the words of support which you have so kindly sent on the occasion of the Sixtieth Anniversary of my Accession to the Throne."

 Yes, she regarded me as fan mail. (Which I suppose I am.) But the important part is: I got a letter from England!

So this month, and possibly next month, have turned out alright.

The Nature in The City

 This is a rare post where I stop talking and let the pictures talk. I stalked four baby birds this evening, two Robins and two Blue Jays, while the parents squawked and put up gallant fight while I sat and focused my camera on their babies. Don't worry. No animals were hurt in the making of this blog post.

Also at the bottom are two other small friends I have found in past years. The first is a squirrel I named Fennel who was injured, and the second is a rabbit who I named Foster. I quietly buried them shortly after finding them, but there is always new life every spring!  

 

When You Need a Friend

You can count on me like one, two, three, I'll be there,

And I know when I'm needed,

I can count on you like four, three, two, and you'll be there,

'Cause that's what friends are supposed to do...

- Bruno Mars

Tales of an Oversized Shirt

 So my Great-grandmother lives down south, (and when I say that I do not mean Florida, I mean two hours away,) and my Mema periodically goes down and visits her, seeing that Great-grandma Maggie is going to be 98 this year.

And Mema likes to bring us home some of Grandma Maggie's discarded clothes from time to time. They are usually quite old and normally do not fit. I really don't understand how Mema always brings us home clothes which are size 12 or 14, becuase Grandma Maggie is the size of a toothpick and probably wears small of everything. (And we don't wear 12 or 14s. Hmm.) That question aside, she brought us a bag a few weeks ago.

I picked through it, always on the lookout for good fabric that can be re-cut into something else. My search was rewarded with an over-sized, off-white shirt of some kind that I gladly took home. And last Saturday I decided to be one of those cool people on the internet who takes a potato sack and makes it into a prom dress, and then post a seemingly easy tutorial on how to do it.

Well, this isn't a potato sack, and I didn't make it into a prom dress. But I did have fun.

Observe the shirt. Yes. Awkward. So I took out my scissors and promptly cut off the turtle neck aspect. Then I cut off about three full inches on each side and sewed it in. Then I wondered what to do next.

Ah ha! Ruffles! The answer to every problem. Using the excess fabric from the sides, I cut out four rows of ruffles and sewed them to the front of the shirt. Then I gathered in the neck, because it was huge and I was not going with the cowl-neck look, and stitched it down.

Happy day in my bedroom. Very, very happy day. And the wonderful part is that I actually like it! Now go take an old tee shirt, some scissors, a bit of thread, and get to work. If you ruin it then you didn't waste any money, and if you love it, then you have one new shirt in your wardrobe that cost you nothing!

Some good tee-shirt tutorials: (since mine isn't really a tutorial)
Ruffles and Stuff
Vertical Ruffles

Ice Cream and Resilient Children

If this does not make you laugh, then there is no hope for you.

P.S. You may want to view it larger to get the whole effect.

Silence is a Lost Art

              

      I'm sitting on the back deck. This is not an uncommon place to find me; my favorite mug full of ice water, my trusty laptop Lord Pondicherry, and lazy Mr. Tucket keeping me company with his contented snoring in the sunshine. My ear buds are in, but abnormally, they are silent. The birds are chirping in the trees and my brother is raking leaves on the lower porch, that delicious sound of the prongs hitting the concrete coming in sporadic rhythm.

     For a rare half minute, there was no one on the road by our house. You see, we live next to a fairly busy stretch of a 2-lane road, and a mere common ground away from the highway. There are always cars going past with a low whoosh, children coming home from school, couples walking, the same beagle who breaks out semi-monthly, sniffing her way dangerously close to the traffic.

     But for half a minute, there was no noise but the afternoon sounds of nature. (As much nature as we get in suburbia.) And it was beautiful. I enjoy drinking in those few seconds of quiet, wishing they would last forever. Wishing I lived five miles away from everyone and had ten or so dogs snoring around me as I write, healthy sweat dripping down my face as I sit in the sunshine, my body strong from days of outdoor work.

     This is reality, though. And the cars start racing past again. 

     Silence is a lost art. We live in a very loud culture. Entertainment is at the tip of our fingers every single second of the day. We can listen to music, watch movies, chat, talk on the phone, drive. Communication is noisy. Entertainment is noisy. Work is noisy. Play is noisy. Life is noisy.

     Just when I think I have a moment of silence, the phone rings. The dog barks. The workmen next-door start their everlasting banging. The floors creak when I walk. The sink drains. The CD skips. The organ in the front room emits its continual humming. The dishwasher churns.

     The phone rings.

     The dog barks.

     I read somewhere that NASA made a room that was 99% percent sound proof. I say kudos. The world needs more silence, less distraction. More time to think, less time to talk. More time to focus, less time to be entertained.

     Apparently, if you were to stay in this room for any length of time, you would go crazy.  Your mind begins to make up noises that don't exist. You hear things that aren't there. Our brains and bodies are tuned to want noise.

     But I believe they're also tuned to need silence. To be quiet. To cut all this extra distraction and actually realize how soothing it is to be silent and be still.

     Silence in a delicacy these days that a lot of people would give a lot to have. We're so annoyingly noisy all the time. Everything we do is noisy. And that's okay, to some extent. Noise is a beautiful part of life.

     But there can be too much of a good thing.

     And amid the noise, regarldess of it being “good noise,” or “bad noise,” we're losing silence, which is the art of not making any noise at all. 

     Mr. Tucket woke up and is hanging his head pitifully through the banisters. The blender's going in the kitchen behind me. Storm clouds are rumbling in the distance. Life is moving. The world is turning. Progress is being made. And that's okay.

     Sometimes I just wonder if we really have to be so noisy in the process.

The Bagels of Happiness

          Yes, technically, they're boiled bagels. Yes, technically, that is coffee cake topping spilling out of them. But technically, it doesn't matter, because no one could tell what they are by looking at them. They look kind of like a cross between mud pies and Hot-crossed Buns. (I didn't make the holes big enough this time around.) 

         Really, they're delicious. After searching for a good bagel recipe for a very long time, I came across this one and after tweaking it my liking, they're a breeze to make and taste amazing. I have done plain, coffee cake, blueberry, and cinnamon-raisin so far. And to prove that they're a success, my brothers eat them like they're candy.

          They're not pretty this time around, but pretty is overrated. Just eat them. 

Boiled Bagels of Happiness

4 Cups of flour 

(I use whole wheat, but have done it with half white and they turned out a bit lighter. I image that using all white would be wonderful as well.)

5 teaspoons of yeast 

1 1/2 Cups of warm water (by warm I mean hot, but not boiling) 

3 tablespoons of sugar OR 2 tablespoons of honey

1 tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon sugar

1. In a large bowl, combine 1 1/2 cups of flour with the yeast. Add to this the water, the sugar or honey, and your salt. Beat with a mixer on low for 30 seconds, scraping the sides of the bowl clean. Then beat on high for 3 minutes. After this, mix in an additional 2 cups of flour, or enough to make a moderately stiff dough.*

*If you are adding dry blueberries, cinnamon or sugar, or any other desired flavoring, add it now.

2. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead it until it is smooth and elastic, adding the rest of the flour as needed. (I usually knead it for about 4-5 minutes.) Cover and let rest for 15 minutes.

3. Cut the dough into 8 equal portions, rolling each into a smooth ball. With your finger, poke a hole in the center and shape each into a bagel. I usually just leave the dough through the hole on my finger and swing it around like a hula-hoop while the hole stretches. Whatever your method is will work fine. Put them on a greased cookie sheet, cover, and let them rise for 20 minutes.

4. Meanwhile, start a gallon of water boiling, stir into it the last tablespoon of sugar, and turn on your oven broiler.

5. When the bagels have risen, broil them lightly on each side, about 1 to 1 1/2 minutes. Turn off the broiler and preheat your oven to 375 degrees F.

6. Dump, throw, or gently set your bagels into the boiling water. (My pot fits three at a time.) Boil them for 7 minutes or so, flipping them once. Drain them, place them on greased pan,* and pop them in the oven for 20 -25 minutes.

*If you are doing some topping, such as a coffee cake topping, add it now.

Remove from oven and enjoy! They're best right out of the oven with a glass of milk, in my opinion.