Dear Reader,
I have just discovered that my favorite childhood author, Madeline L'Engle, recently passed away, this past September. I can't believe it. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of curling up with "A Wrinkle in Time," or "A Wind in the Door." L'Engle was a master of her art. I'm sorry the world has lost such a champion of literature. I mean, she was the first one who got me interested in fantasy, and yet simultaneously got my mind spinning on science, going, well, okay, I know that's "true," but what if? It's the "what if?" questions that have brought me as far as I've come, especially in regards to my faith, and my choice to come to college to pursue medicine. I owe a lot to this lady, and I would like to take a moment to say, Thank You. Even in this frozen, lonely corner of the internet, I hope to thank you for the curiosity and strength you first awakened in me.
For Madeline.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
The Libros
Well, as silly as it sounds, I am very proud of this.
It's a pretty thorough list of my favorite snack books, the kinds I like to read on a day when I don't have much to do. I must mention, if you aren't a female interested in fantasy, this might not interest you all that much.
It's a pretty thorough list of my favorite snack books, the kinds I like to read on a day when I don't have much to do. I must mention, if you aren't a female interested in fantasy, this might not interest you all that much.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Red Lizards
Today was a day between a rock and a hard place. I was highway driving alone, and I don't know about you, but the highway really seems to encourage heart-to-hearts with God. Today it was the magnificent sunset that brought me to tears. I've been finding it so hard, lately, to forgive myself. But it isn't just the forgiveness that's been struggling in my life, it's also the disconnect I've experienced with God because of it. As a perfectionist in everything I do, I find it a daily challenge to come before the Lord just as I am. No matter how many times I am told that he accepts us for who we are, I am never willing to believe that even if I can't forgive myself, the God of the Universe can.
I've done so many things that I'm not proud of. I've been in hurtful relationships, where pain was exchanged mutually, and I have hurt others alone, with my words or my deeds. I long so very much to live a life that is lived to praise God, not myself. When I relinquish the pain that so enmeshes me, God is right there, ready and willing and able to remove it from me, as far as the East is from the West.
So today, I chose to do that. All my life, I've lived by the idea that God can work through anything. What I've never really pondered over is the idea that God would probably prefer if we prayed for guidance, so that God can lead us to the path he wants to work with us on, rather than one we willy-nilly chose for ourselves. And that takes patience. And patience is the one thing I swear my whole life is for. Change doesn't come when we're comfortable. Unfortunately, change hurts, and it moves us in ways we never thought possible before. But that's the beauty of it, I suppose. One minute, I am in agony, struggling with the entanglement of sin in my life, and the next moment, Jesus lifts me up, and smiling, shows me how I just grew.
C.S. Lewis wrote a story, once, about a man who had a little red lizard on his shoulder. And an angel came to him and said, if you would only give me that lizard, so that I might kill it, you would be free to go up into heaven. But the man refused, time and time again, making many excuses for the life of the lizard. And time and time again, the angel came, until finally, the man cried out, "Be done with it!" and ripped the lizard off his shirt and threw it into the angel's hands. And at that moment, the lizard became an immaculate, golden winged horse, which took the man upon its back and flew with him up into Heaven.
I've done so many things that I'm not proud of. I've been in hurtful relationships, where pain was exchanged mutually, and I have hurt others alone, with my words or my deeds. I long so very much to live a life that is lived to praise God, not myself. When I relinquish the pain that so enmeshes me, God is right there, ready and willing and able to remove it from me, as far as the East is from the West.
So today, I chose to do that. All my life, I've lived by the idea that God can work through anything. What I've never really pondered over is the idea that God would probably prefer if we prayed for guidance, so that God can lead us to the path he wants to work with us on, rather than one we willy-nilly chose for ourselves. And that takes patience. And patience is the one thing I swear my whole life is for. Change doesn't come when we're comfortable. Unfortunately, change hurts, and it moves us in ways we never thought possible before. But that's the beauty of it, I suppose. One minute, I am in agony, struggling with the entanglement of sin in my life, and the next moment, Jesus lifts me up, and smiling, shows me how I just grew.
C.S. Lewis wrote a story, once, about a man who had a little red lizard on his shoulder. And an angel came to him and said, if you would only give me that lizard, so that I might kill it, you would be free to go up into heaven. But the man refused, time and time again, making many excuses for the life of the lizard. And time and time again, the angel came, until finally, the man cried out, "Be done with it!" and ripped the lizard off his shirt and threw it into the angel's hands. And at that moment, the lizard became an immaculate, golden winged horse, which took the man upon its back and flew with him up into Heaven.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Poverty to Disney, Perhaps a Pantalaimon
On Friday, I had to reconcile the differences between poverty-stricken Honduras, and the irksome, materialistic Disney Store. I'm afraid that I failed. As I got into my car Friday evening, I began to sob. I had no idea that leaving Honduras would affect me like this. I have been to Mexico three times in the past, and I have seen some terrible poverty. But this trip...was so much more personal, because of the kids. I love children with all my heart. God knows what he wants me to do with that love, even if most of the time I feel like I don't. Seeing the children's strength and joy this past week filled me with such hope, but it also brought into stark relief how much we've lost behind the veil of the material. My little brother can hardly even comprehend what those children's lives are like, but I so wish that he could. I wish that we could learn to live without the placating mechanisms we use everyday, material or otherwise. This is doubly true for a follower of Christ, who is called to the truth, which is that only Jesus can bring perfect hope, and peace, and joy. I'm struggling.
On a different note: The Golden Compass
Now, folks, I need to say a few things. Firstly, I think boycotting the film is ridiculous. Even if it has criticism of the Church, we should at least allow it to be a conversation starter between us and our children. And even then, that's granting that your children will even catch the very subtle hints of what Pullman was trying to say in his books in the movie. We have to understand that removing ourselves from the world doesn't mean the disappearance of the opinions of the world. When we try to shelter our children from something like what Pullman is trying to say in his novels, we are just ill-preparing them to deal with the same opinion when they come upon it later in life. Also, a movie should not be feared for its power to "change minds." My faith is not so weak that when Pullman presents a contrary belief, I immediately sway to it and abandon my old views. We need to learn as Christians that the old method of fighting reason with impassioned diatribes on faith does not work. We need to be ready and willing to give good, sound reasons for why we believe what we believe. It is our knowledge in why we believe what we do, and our exercise of that knowledge that will strengthen us to make good, valid arguments for why we remain Christians, even in the face of the world's Pullmans. I personally love the books, and understand, but do not agree with, what Pullman is trying to say. The story can be, I'm happy to say, beautiful without me agreeing with Pullman's stabs at the Catholic Church. And please, do yourself a favor and just read the books before you willingly pass on angry letters, or words, or sermons, about them.
On a different note: The Golden Compass
Now, folks, I need to say a few things. Firstly, I think boycotting the film is ridiculous. Even if it has criticism of the Church, we should at least allow it to be a conversation starter between us and our children. And even then, that's granting that your children will even catch the very subtle hints of what Pullman was trying to say in his books in the movie. We have to understand that removing ourselves from the world doesn't mean the disappearance of the opinions of the world. When we try to shelter our children from something like what Pullman is trying to say in his novels, we are just ill-preparing them to deal with the same opinion when they come upon it later in life. Also, a movie should not be feared for its power to "change minds." My faith is not so weak that when Pullman presents a contrary belief, I immediately sway to it and abandon my old views. We need to learn as Christians that the old method of fighting reason with impassioned diatribes on faith does not work. We need to be ready and willing to give good, sound reasons for why we believe what we believe. It is our knowledge in why we believe what we do, and our exercise of that knowledge that will strengthen us to make good, valid arguments for why we remain Christians, even in the face of the world's Pullmans. I personally love the books, and understand, but do not agree with, what Pullman is trying to say. The story can be, I'm happy to say, beautiful without me agreeing with Pullman's stabs at the Catholic Church. And please, do yourself a favor and just read the books before you willingly pass on angry letters, or words, or sermons, about them.
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