goodbye, friend

SOLD! (Finally.)

one special cracker

My mom sent me this photo of Claira the other day. On the back, she included the following caption:

Sheer happiness begins with one special cracker.

It's true, you know . . . in a couple different ways.

new blog

I've decided to start a new blog . . . a photo blog! Check it out www.catchingglimpses.blogspot.com or click on the link, "my photo blog," on the right side of your screen!

feeling sheepish

Turns out "20 oz. pint" is not an oxymoron. My all-knowing friend, Rusty, has informed me that in Ireland, a pint is 20 ounces, an "imperial pint." It's true. You learn something new every day . . .

From wikipedia:

The pint is a unit of volume or capacity. It is used mainly in the U.S., the UK and Ireland, although the value is not the same and the U.S. has two types of pint:

1 Imperial pint (UK) = 20 UK fluid ounces ≈ 568 mL (0.56826125 litres more exactly)
1 Imperial pint (UK) = 4 UK gills (this was the legal definition although in some areas a gill of milk or beer referred to 1/2 pint; elsewhere a gill was the 1/3 pint of milk given free to school children)
1 pint (U.S., wet) = 16 U.S. fluid ounces = 2 U.S. cups ≈ 473 mL (0.473176473 litres exactly)
1 pint (U.S., dry) ≈ 551 mL (0.5506104713575 litres exactly)
As part of the metrication process, the pint in the UK and in Kenya is now only used as a measure for beer (see pint glass) and cider when sold by the glass (in public houses for instance) and milk (although milk is also sold in metric quantities). Many recipes published in the UK still provide ingredient quantities in imperial and metric, where the pint is often used as a unit for larger liquid quantites. Most new recipes are now published in metric only with the pint being rounded to 500 or 600 ml. Ireland has completed its metrication process and the pint is only use for serving beer, stout and cider.

hmmm . . .

I saw an ad today for 20 oz. pints at a local bar. Would you say that's an oxymoron?

hope remains

Last year at this time, my friend Andy and I rather spontaneously hopped in a car and headed for Louisiana to help out with hurricane relief. The week and a half turned out to be a pivotal time in my life. As I sat in the shelter and rocked babies to sleep, wondering if their mothers would pick them up from the makeshift daycare, where they would live, and what kind of life they would be deprived of because of the tragedy, my faith was tested. Most of my time was spent with the children who were living with their families in the middle of a convention center floor and from their mouths I heard some truly heartbreaking statements--words five-year-old children should never utter. One told me about the dead bodies she saw floating in the water, another told me she wanted money for her birthday because she didn't have any clothes, and many talked about their dispersed families. As I read back over my journal entries from that time, the records of the heartache, over and over and over, I wrote the following words, "And hope remains. And hope remains." Honestly, I'm not sure if I was writing them because I believed that hope remained or because I was trying to convince myself that it did. But it's true. Hope did remain. Amazingly, the victims of Katrina did have hope. Really, it was all they had--and they clung to it. And by doing so, they reassured me that I too could have hope . . . that God truly was love, though to look around at the thousands of displaced people, it didn't always seem like it.

On Sunday, I was reading over what I had written last year and was struck by the realization that over the past two weeks, I have been feeling close to the exact same emotions. On Thursday, the 7th, my friend Cara gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Zion David, and due to some unexpected complications during birth, he passed away. That night, I stayed up late, praying for Marc, Cara, and Zion, for comfort, for hope, for ressurection even. I thought of David, who also lost a baby boy and upon hearing of his death, immediately went to the temple to worship, and I wondered how he did it . . . how he later wrote that God is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Surely, that moment was the most heartbreaking of his life. And it gave me hope to know that David could worship, that he could continue to feel the presence of God during such a difficult time. It gave me hope for Marc and Cara, and it gave me hope for myself--that I could continue to believe that God is good.

The next morning, as I drove to the hospital, the words of an old hymn kept flowing through my mind, and so I began to sing it to myself . . . "Jesus, Jesus, how I trust him. How I've proved him o'er and o'er. Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus, oh for grace to trust him more." Honestly, there were moments that I found myself forcing the words out of my mouth, fighting to believe that it was true. But when I walked into Cara's hospital room, the struggle ended. The grace, love, and hope of Jesus was undoubtedly present in that place. Marc and Cara's words were full of sorrow mixed with unwavering faith and hope. Even then, Cara said that she knew God was going to do something huge . . . but I knew he was already doing it, particularly in my own life. I really can't even begin to describe how she and Marc have served to strengthen my faith during this time. And because of their faith, as I looked down at Zion's perfect, beautiful face, I could think only of God's goodness, of His promise of eternal life, of his craftsmanship, and his proximity to the brokenhearted. And then I understood how David could worship in the midst of such sorrow. Hope does remain. It really does.

There's so much more that I could write about the past two weeks . . . about the way Zion's life has affected our community, the beautiful memorial service we had in his honor, and the strength and faith of Marc and Cara, but as for now, I'll simply say that I am so thankful for Zion's life, for all that he has taught me, for the hope I was reminded of.

"From Zion, perfect in beauty, God shines forth." --Psalm 50:2

comfort

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:18

is that you, orlando?

Am I the only one who thinks she sees famous people everywhere? Really, this doesn't happen that often, but yesterday, I could have sworn Mick Jagger was sitting beside me in a coffee shop, and today I thought I saw Steve Jobs and Orlando Bloom walking down the street (not together--that would be weird).

grace

I read the following quote in a book I was reading last night, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott.

"Grace threatens all my normalities." --Gerald May

When I first read it, I agreed with the statement, yet found myself a little uneasy with saying that grace "threatens" something belonging to me. However, the more I think about it, the more I believe it's absolutely true. In many ways, grace is threatening. All of the insecurities, inadequacies, sin, etc., that I hold onto so dearly for some unknown reason, is threatened by the power of God's grace. In its presence, I am forced to let go of all that I claim to be true about myself and those around me, and begin, in freedom, to see past all those lies.