For some reason I really love Sundays now. It may quite possibly be my most favorite day of the week. Yes, Sunday.
It's weird, in the past I've never really been a big fan of Sunday. Most stores were all closed, a lot of my friends couldn't do anything, you HAD to go to church, and you generally just happen to feel like a lazy blob on Sundays. Sundays were like a little speedbump that got in the way of my other "more important" activities.
But it's a little different now. I don't know if it's because now I have such a crazy hectic work schedule or if it's just because I have been plain busy but I actually look forward to Sundays now. I embrace it and I welcome it. Sunday's mean I get to have a break from "normal life." Sundays are like the light at the end of a dark tunnel that is six days long. Sunday gives me a chance to exhale and breathe normally. I feel like I am replenishing my strength, my mind, my thoughts. I decided it is very important to have a day like this.
Sundays are wonderful.
You just need a break sometimes you know?
ps.
There is this really weird song that I heard the other day. It creates the weirdest mood ever, it is almost unbearably depressing, yet somehow there is a sliver of happiness and hope weaved through it. It's like one of those songs you would hear in your mind as you were dying or something. I judge music the most by what type of mood it puts me in, I just can't tell what type of mood this song has. I am posting the lyrics because they are amazingly amazingly poetic, something that I love. It is full of meaning, yet somehow I don't know what it means haha. The words are golden though. Read them, but go listen to the song. It's better.
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There’s always one reason
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
I’ll find some peace tonight
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there
So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There’s vultures and thieves at your back
And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lie
That you make up for all that you lack
It don’t make no difference
Escaping one last time
It’s easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Something to think about
I read this in a forward, one of the most meaninful forwards that I've ever read in my opinion...Maybe its not exactly correct, but it is correct in its concept, and it sends the right message. It makes you think a little huh?
A TEENAGERS VIEW OF HEAVEN..
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class.
The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote..."
It also was the last. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997 the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death.
"I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay:
The Room
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it a nd began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at ." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, seemed newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tear s came. I began to weep Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.
The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."
A TEENAGERS VIEW OF HEAVEN..
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class.
The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote..."
It also was the last. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997 the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death.
"I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay:
The Room
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it a nd began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at ." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, seemed newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tear s came. I began to weep Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.
The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I dreamt a dream
This is a copy of my new poem that is getting published in a book soon.
Yesterday I dreamt a dream so true,
that today I thought everything was new.
Yesterday I had thought all my dreams had come true,
and today I believed all those things I thought I knew.
I lay awake with a dream held hostage in silence of the night,
I dream for those without a voice, I dream for those without a choice.
I dream for that which I know is right, a dream for that which I fight.
No one knows of these dreams, but I will continue with my dreams held tight.
Tomorrow I’ll dream a dream just the same,
but in the morning I’ll wake up to things all the same.
Just like a flicker in a burning candle flame,
What I dreamt may never have a name.
I think everyone of us has a dream, whether it is a silent dream or a outspoken dream it is no less passionate and inspiring. I am inspired by the lives of others and by the great sacrifices humanity is capable of when they do good and live with a dream in their heart. I am happy to share a little piece of my dream to the world and I encourage others to do the same.
Yesterday I dreamt a dream so true,
that today I thought everything was new.
Yesterday I had thought all my dreams had come true,
and today I believed all those things I thought I knew.
I lay awake with a dream held hostage in silence of the night,
I dream for those without a voice, I dream for those without a choice.
I dream for that which I know is right, a dream for that which I fight.
No one knows of these dreams, but I will continue with my dreams held tight.
Tomorrow I’ll dream a dream just the same,
but in the morning I’ll wake up to things all the same.
Just like a flicker in a burning candle flame,
What I dreamt may never have a name.
I think everyone of us has a dream, whether it is a silent dream or a outspoken dream it is no less passionate and inspiring. I am inspired by the lives of others and by the great sacrifices humanity is capable of when they do good and live with a dream in their heart. I am happy to share a little piece of my dream to the world and I encourage others to do the same.
Monday, March 17, 2008
the power of perspective
So I've been thinking a lot lately about different people's perspective on life and how much of an influence it has on everyone. Have you ever ever had an eperience that completely rocked your socks off and took you out of your own little world and refocused everything and put it into perspective?
I think a lot of times we tend to focus way too much on so many little things. We really waste our time trying to satisfy the simplest, stupidest, meaningless things of our lives that we essentially start seeing things as if we are looking through magnifying glasses all day long. It is like one of those posters that have little tiny seperate pictures that make up one big picture. Too often we live in the little tiny picture, and our little tiny picture is only a small part of a bigger picture. Sometimes instead of zooming in on a picture so close it is better to zoom out so that you can actually see the whole picture as it really is.
Can you imagine what the world would be like if each and everyone of us could only see life as it really is? What is life really for? What are we here for and what is our perspective of life itself? How does our perspective affect our ability to see what is around us clearly?
I remember a lesson that I had once in high school and the teacher gave us these "drunk goggles" apparantly its supposed to replicate what you see when your drunk. The teacher correlated these goggles to a persons perspective. Everyone has a different perspective, and in some ways it does distort our image of reality. This is very true.
I said something in my talk at church today that relates a little to this. I said, "how special is to to know that God knows us personally? Not only does he know each and everyone of us personally, but he knows you and I without the stereotypes or pre-judgements that we know each other by. He knows us from a totally different perspective than we can comprehend." In today's world we are always overly concerned with what someone else is going to think about us, or what someone else is going to say about us. Or whether I can tell this person this in case they might tell someone else that.
We struggle daily to live our lives between what we want to do and what the world thinks we should be doing. Sometimes we fight too hard to make the world like us and in the process we lose ourselves and what we actually believe. We let our perspectives blind our perceptions.
I think a lot of times we tend to focus way too much on so many little things. We really waste our time trying to satisfy the simplest, stupidest, meaningless things of our lives that we essentially start seeing things as if we are looking through magnifying glasses all day long. It is like one of those posters that have little tiny seperate pictures that make up one big picture. Too often we live in the little tiny picture, and our little tiny picture is only a small part of a bigger picture. Sometimes instead of zooming in on a picture so close it is better to zoom out so that you can actually see the whole picture as it really is.
Can you imagine what the world would be like if each and everyone of us could only see life as it really is? What is life really for? What are we here for and what is our perspective of life itself? How does our perspective affect our ability to see what is around us clearly?
I remember a lesson that I had once in high school and the teacher gave us these "drunk goggles" apparantly its supposed to replicate what you see when your drunk. The teacher correlated these goggles to a persons perspective. Everyone has a different perspective, and in some ways it does distort our image of reality. This is very true.
I said something in my talk at church today that relates a little to this. I said, "how special is to to know that God knows us personally? Not only does he know each and everyone of us personally, but he knows you and I without the stereotypes or pre-judgements that we know each other by. He knows us from a totally different perspective than we can comprehend." In today's world we are always overly concerned with what someone else is going to think about us, or what someone else is going to say about us. Or whether I can tell this person this in case they might tell someone else that.
We struggle daily to live our lives between what we want to do and what the world thinks we should be doing. Sometimes we fight too hard to make the world like us and in the process we lose ourselves and what we actually believe. We let our perspectives blind our perceptions.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
patriarchal blessing
Hey everyone!
So yesterday I finally got my patriarchal blessing it was wonderful. Most of you probably know what a patriarchal blessing is but for anyone who doesn't, it is basically a personal blessing that you only get once in your life and it tells of your lineage and it provides guidance and advice or whatnot for your whole life. Everyone's is different and unique to their own life. It really is an amazing thing to have, and to receive.
It's hard to describe the feeling of getting such a blessing that is meant just for you, it really is one of the more spiritual moments that I've ever had so far. It's pretty indescribable I loved it. I took my grandma with me and it was just a moment that I will remember forever.
I will be getting my mission papers soon and then I will be starting the process of going on a mission. I really can't wait and I know there are experiences out there waiting for me that I need to have. I've been through my fair share of hard things and I know that this will be the hardest thing that I have ever done so far but I really welcome it and it will make me become the person that I will be.
Well I guess thats my little blog for now. My life has been a whirlwind lately. I feel like I'm living in a tornado...I am constantly busy and I just don't have any extra time for hardly anything at all. That is kindof a good thing I guess it keeps me focused and keeps me doing something...things are changing really fast, probably faster than they ever have before in my life but at least they are good and productive things so I can't complain so much. Thats life right?
So yesterday I finally got my patriarchal blessing it was wonderful. Most of you probably know what a patriarchal blessing is but for anyone who doesn't, it is basically a personal blessing that you only get once in your life and it tells of your lineage and it provides guidance and advice or whatnot for your whole life. Everyone's is different and unique to their own life. It really is an amazing thing to have, and to receive.
It's hard to describe the feeling of getting such a blessing that is meant just for you, it really is one of the more spiritual moments that I've ever had so far. It's pretty indescribable I loved it. I took my grandma with me and it was just a moment that I will remember forever.
I will be getting my mission papers soon and then I will be starting the process of going on a mission. I really can't wait and I know there are experiences out there waiting for me that I need to have. I've been through my fair share of hard things and I know that this will be the hardest thing that I have ever done so far but I really welcome it and it will make me become the person that I will be.
Well I guess thats my little blog for now. My life has been a whirlwind lately. I feel like I'm living in a tornado...I am constantly busy and I just don't have any extra time for hardly anything at all. That is kindof a good thing I guess it keeps me focused and keeps me doing something...things are changing really fast, probably faster than they ever have before in my life but at least they are good and productive things so I can't complain so much. Thats life right?
Monday, March 3, 2008
a short blog...bleh
Heyyyyyyyy blog readers. Wow my blogs are getting longer and farther apart from each other I dont know if thats good or bad. Oh well I'm pretty sure I have about zero readers anyways. I have been a crazy workaholic lately and pretty much all of my money is going straight to the savings account for the mish. You know a pleasant unexpected side affect of a mission is that it teaches you how to save your money. When I get back hopefully I will remember how to save money like this. I will be rich haha. Well yeah thats basically my life right now. Work, sleep, eat, and church. Yay. Actually I couldn't really be more happier than I am right now I'm glad I've decided to go on a mission it will be wonderful.
Well I'm sorry I think thats basically all I've got for today. I don't really know what to talk about, I just thought I would drop by and say hi since thats kinda what i'm supposed to do with this whole website anyways. Ummm ok well thats all. Goodbye!
Well I'm sorry I think thats basically all I've got for today. I don't really know what to talk about, I just thought I would drop by and say hi since thats kinda what i'm supposed to do with this whole website anyways. Ummm ok well thats all. Goodbye!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
