God tastes like salt.
Or at least I think so; there is no other taste I can quite compare him too.
Salt is in cookies, pizza, home made macaroni and cheese, french fries, popcorn, and bacon. (God is in all things good to eat)
If ever in need of salt, boil seawater. (You cannot "run out" of God)
Salt is a preservative. (God keeps me alive)
Salt is in the ocean air. (God is in my favorite places)
Salt is in my tears. (God is in my pain)
If I use too much salt, I add more ingredients and have more yummy food. (There is no such thing as "too much" God.)
What does God taste like to you?
"Taste and see that the Lord is good." Pslams 34:8
Friday, February 11, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Feet
I was walking down the steps to the cafeteria one day, when I overheard a conversation between two girls walking in the opposite direciton. One was explaining to the other that happy people tend to walk around looking at the world, while sad or depressed people tend to look down at their feet when they walk. As I was racing to make the omelet line before it closed, I did not follow them around to hear more of the conversation, so I have no idea where she got her information. Besides, that would have been weird.
This got me thinking; what do people see when they look down anyway? Well, if they are out of doors, probably their shoes. For this reason, everyone should always where shoes they like, so when they are feeling blue they can look down and see their glittery Toms or cherry red converse. A splash of wonderful waiting for a chance to be admired.
What about when you are not outside? A sad person looking down will probably see their feet-a justification for pedicures that provide sparkle or flowers for boring old toes. Another option would be socks.
I love fun socks. It all started when I was helping my Grandma in her backyard for a couple of weekends one summer. The Oregon Grapes had over run the greenbelt behind her house, and I was helping her pull them out. I was rather young, and probably didn't actually help that much, but one day, after we were finished, she handed me a pair of white socks. The cuff, when unfolded, featured a yellow halo sprinkled with stars. When folded down, the word "angel" could be seen in blue type, with a yellow outline. She told me she bought them because I was such an angel for helping her in the greenbelt. (A decade or so later, I only have one of those socks left, but I plan to keep it forever.)
This small gesture from my Grandmother sparked in me an sincere attachment to wearing fun socks. Stripes in a plethora of colors, spots in a range of sizes, arigile in various color combinations, orange and yellow cheeta print, and even two pairs with peacocks.
When I am bogged down by homework, depressed by the cloudy sky, and freezing, I can always look down at my pleasently adorned feet and know that the world is not as dismal as I thought.
This got me thinking; what do people see when they look down anyway? Well, if they are out of doors, probably their shoes. For this reason, everyone should always where shoes they like, so when they are feeling blue they can look down and see their glittery Toms or cherry red converse. A splash of wonderful waiting for a chance to be admired.
What about when you are not outside? A sad person looking down will probably see their feet-a justification for pedicures that provide sparkle or flowers for boring old toes. Another option would be socks.
I love fun socks. It all started when I was helping my Grandma in her backyard for a couple of weekends one summer. The Oregon Grapes had over run the greenbelt behind her house, and I was helping her pull them out. I was rather young, and probably didn't actually help that much, but one day, after we were finished, she handed me a pair of white socks. The cuff, when unfolded, featured a yellow halo sprinkled with stars. When folded down, the word "angel" could be seen in blue type, with a yellow outline. She told me she bought them because I was such an angel for helping her in the greenbelt. (A decade or so later, I only have one of those socks left, but I plan to keep it forever.)
This small gesture from my Grandmother sparked in me an sincere attachment to wearing fun socks. Stripes in a plethora of colors, spots in a range of sizes, arigile in various color combinations, orange and yellow cheeta print, and even two pairs with peacocks.
When I am bogged down by homework, depressed by the cloudy sky, and freezing, I can always look down at my pleasently adorned feet and know that the world is not as dismal as I thought.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
English Country Dancing
With the first notes of the piano, she bows courteously to her partner across the aisle. The intro swells into chorus, and she begins to dance.
Head erect, arms extended, she confidently takes the hands of her partner as they do a double turn. She makes a modest curtsy and dances into to the second couple, unashamedly flirting with her neighbor's partner. Her neighbor does the same, and none is jealous of the other. All four hold hands across the center to form a star, and slowly walk a circle.
A slow spin outward bumps her down the row to a new couple, and the process repeats itself. A new neighbor, a new flirt, but the same poised postures remains throughout.
The room is lit by chandeliers equally spaced across the ceiling, all elegantly adorned with silver and sparkle. The windows look out into a crisp February night, lit only by the moon and stars.
Eighteen couples form two sets of lines; more than usual. The new comers are happily accepted and quickly paired with the more experienced dancers.
A splash of sunset here, clear ocean blue there, and tea rose behind her; the ladies' wide skirts swish softly in time with the music. They spent hours on their hair, pulling it gracefully into twists and curls before hand. Lovely necklaces and matching bracelets sparkle almost as much as the eyes of the men lucky enough to dance with them. All are delighted to be here.
The last notes of song are finished with a flourish and a curtsy. A gentle applause begins and the enchantment slowly fades while the pianist enjoys a brief respite. The billowing skirts are no more, and salt and pepper hair returns to its long pony tail. The delight remains.
The college girls, responsible for swelling the group's numbers on this particular Friday night, smile hugely. It is true, they have not yet mastered all the steps, and all of their partners have grandchildren, but they are utterly delighted. The music starts and the dancers return to the seventeen hundreds, ready to continue their English Country Dance.
Click here to see how you may go English Country Dancing as well!
Head erect, arms extended, she confidently takes the hands of her partner as they do a double turn. She makes a modest curtsy and dances into to the second couple, unashamedly flirting with her neighbor's partner. Her neighbor does the same, and none is jealous of the other. All four hold hands across the center to form a star, and slowly walk a circle.
A slow spin outward bumps her down the row to a new couple, and the process repeats itself. A new neighbor, a new flirt, but the same poised postures remains throughout.
The room is lit by chandeliers equally spaced across the ceiling, all elegantly adorned with silver and sparkle. The windows look out into a crisp February night, lit only by the moon and stars.
Eighteen couples form two sets of lines; more than usual. The new comers are happily accepted and quickly paired with the more experienced dancers.
A splash of sunset here, clear ocean blue there, and tea rose behind her; the ladies' wide skirts swish softly in time with the music. They spent hours on their hair, pulling it gracefully into twists and curls before hand. Lovely necklaces and matching bracelets sparkle almost as much as the eyes of the men lucky enough to dance with them. All are delighted to be here.
The last notes of song are finished with a flourish and a curtsy. A gentle applause begins and the enchantment slowly fades while the pianist enjoys a brief respite. The billowing skirts are no more, and salt and pepper hair returns to its long pony tail. The delight remains.
The college girls, responsible for swelling the group's numbers on this particular Friday night, smile hugely. It is true, they have not yet mastered all the steps, and all of their partners have grandchildren, but they are utterly delighted. The music starts and the dancers return to the seventeen hundreds, ready to continue their English Country Dance.
Click here to see how you may go English Country Dancing as well!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Yes, it's true.
I deactivated my facebook.
I nearly cried.
Pathetic, right? But as soon as I made the final decision, my gut twisted and ripped and my face felt hot. I was suddenly certain I would loose all of my friends.
Funny, you hit the button and a screen pops up showing pictures of three of your facebook friends. A message appears and says, "These people are going to miss you. Are you sure?"
Talk about gut wrenching.
It took me a moment, but I officially deactivated.
It was far too much of an addiction. I would check it first thing in the morning (sometimes to the point of missing breakfast), and I would check it last thing before I fell asleep. I rarely had time to read my bible or hang out with friends, but I always had time for facebook.
That's a problem.
Tomorrow marks week 1 of being facebook free, and guess what? I have so much more free time!
I talk to real people, face to face so much more often! I always make it to breakfast, and I have lots more time reading my bible with Jesus.
But, I will tell you that I still go the login page and enter my info. It's like having an arm amputated, and even though I know it is gone, I still want to scratch it. I still want to see everyone's new pictures and post a "Happy Birthday" message on someone's wall.
I'll get over it eventually.
My greatest hope? People will still read my blog even though I can't post it in the news feed any more. Fortunately, I've got a few faithful followers, so I wont feel like too much of a loser : )
So, if you want to contact me, and cannot find me on facebook anymore, send me a text, shoot me an e-mail, comment my blog, get my number from any of the people I know. I have faith that I can still have relationships without facebook.
I deactivated my facebook.
I nearly cried.
Pathetic, right? But as soon as I made the final decision, my gut twisted and ripped and my face felt hot. I was suddenly certain I would loose all of my friends.
Funny, you hit the button and a screen pops up showing pictures of three of your facebook friends. A message appears and says, "These people are going to miss you. Are you sure?"
Talk about gut wrenching.
It took me a moment, but I officially deactivated.
It was far too much of an addiction. I would check it first thing in the morning (sometimes to the point of missing breakfast), and I would check it last thing before I fell asleep. I rarely had time to read my bible or hang out with friends, but I always had time for facebook.
That's a problem.
Tomorrow marks week 1 of being facebook free, and guess what? I have so much more free time!
I talk to real people, face to face so much more often! I always make it to breakfast, and I have lots more time reading my bible with Jesus.
But, I will tell you that I still go the login page and enter my info. It's like having an arm amputated, and even though I know it is gone, I still want to scratch it. I still want to see everyone's new pictures and post a "Happy Birthday" message on someone's wall.
I'll get over it eventually.
My greatest hope? People will still read my blog even though I can't post it in the news feed any more. Fortunately, I've got a few faithful followers, so I wont feel like too much of a loser : )
So, if you want to contact me, and cannot find me on facebook anymore, send me a text, shoot me an e-mail, comment my blog, get my number from any of the people I know. I have faith that I can still have relationships without facebook.
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