“That I may know Him.” Phil. 3:10

The initiative of the saint is not towards self-realization, but towards knowing Jesus Christ. The spiritual saint never believes circumstances to be haphazard, or thinks of his life as secular and sacred; he sees everything he is dumped down in as the means of securing the knowledge of Jesus Christ. There is a reckless abandonment abut him. The Holy Spirit is determined that we shall realize Jesus Christ in every domain of life, and He will bring us back to the same point again and again until we do. Self-realization leads to the enthronement of work; whereas the saint enthrones Jesus Christ in his work. Whether it be eating or drinking or washing disciples’ feet, whatever it is, we have to take the initiative of realizing Jesus Christ in it. Every phase of our actual life has its counterpart in the life of Jesus. Our Lord realized His relationship to the Father even in the most menial work. “Jesus knowing…that He was come from God…took a towel…and began to wash the disciples’ feet.”

The aim of the spiritual saint is “that I may know Him.” Do I know Him where I am today? If not, I am failing Him. I am here not to realize myself, but to know Jesus. In Christian work the initiative is too often the realization that something has to be done and I must do it. That is never the attitude of the spiritual saint, his aim is to secure the realization of Jesus Christ in every set of circumstances he is in.

– Oswald Chambers

There is something about my garden that I just can’t get enough of.

Jeremy and I are drawn to each little plant, each new bud like you wouldn’t believe. Every day we’re examining the shrubs and flowers, checking the leaves for signs of health, good or bad. It’s our creative project this summer… And we love it.

We haven’t always been gardeners. My dad has maintained gardens in every place we’ve lived growing up and I never took more than a passing interest in his hobby. Even as apartment dwellers, we’d faithfully water the houseplants but never successfully gardened outdoors. (There were two failed attempts at brightening our rentals with impatiens. Quite sad.) The funny thing is, there’s no such things as a “green thumb.” People often say, I can’t garden — everything I touch dies! But truthfully, it doesn’t take much talent… A little sun, a little water, perhaps a little Miracle-Gro and there’s your garden.

Today in the Tredway Garden things are looking good. The cucumbers seem to be taking a one-day hiatus from production (which is great because no one I know can eat cucs that fast). The little grape tomato bush is full of teeny green balls and the roma is just beginning to fill out it’s oblong fruits. The radishes, though suffering a bit in the heat of the summer, are blooming still and the pole beans are just starting to put out teeny whitish green buds. All the veggies are watched over by a towering stalk, soon to have the head of a sunflower.
   
A GARDEN is a lovesome thing, God wot!  
  Rose plot,  
  Fringed pool,  
Fern’d grot—  
  The veriest school          
  Of peace; and yet the fool  
Contends that God is not—  
Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?  
  Nay, but I have a sign;  
  ‘Tis very sure God walks in mine.

Thomas Edward Brown. 1830–1897

Sometimes I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Tonight my husband came home to me, bringing an Amigos Southwestern Chicken Salad and a movie from Blockbuster. Then we went on a long walk, past charming little gardens, below a setting sun and clouds lined with gold.

You’ve gotta ask yourself, “Does it get any better?”

No — the earplugs didn’t work. But still, I had a wonderful trip to Washington DC.

As our plane descended towards Reagan National Airport last Saturday it was all I could do to keep from shouting out, much like a small child, “Look! There’s the Washington Monument! Look, the Capitol!!” It was just so cool to be looking upon these buildings that I’ve seen for many years in textbooks and on the news. That evening, stuck in an amazing amount of traffic as we wove our way from airport to hotel, I did my part as a true tourist and leaned out the car window to take a picture of the statuesque white Capitol dome. Throughout our five day stay in DC I never ceased to be awed by the history so easily seen from almost any point in the city.

The most incredible museum visited was the National Gallery of Art. To any student of Art History, this place is a gold mine. Stunning works by Renoir, Monet, Manet, Degas, Toulouse-Lautrec, Rodin and Cassat filled the halls — my mom and I wandered and gazed wide-eyed, contemplating how we could actually be standing in front of such pieces. We ran out time and did not tour all the galleries, but managed to spend a good amount of time in the gift shops on the lower levels.

The most incredible monument visited was the Lincoln Memorial. One evening my dad and I began our walking tour of the city’s many monuments. We walked for two hours straight — first to the White House (so very impressive to see in person… I was dying to meet the President, but only met his front yard instead), then to the Vietnam War Memorials, the Lincoln Memorial, the Korean War Memorial and the Washington Monument. After climbing the massive steps to the Lincoln Memorial we stood inside the cavernous monument and read the Gettysburg Address. After reading it I praised the Lord for giving us such a godly president at such a tumultuous time in our nation’s history. The words of Abraham Lincoln carved on the walls, combined with the beautiful sunset and throngs of quiet tourists taking in the special moment, gave me goosebumps and secured this memorial as the most special in my mind.

I’ll close out this blog entry with a few lines from the Korean War Memorial that seem quite fitting today as we still have troops stationed in Iraq and others attempting to keep peace in places like Bosnia. The first inscription is placed immediately before the memorial, “Our nation honors her sons and daughters who answered the call to defend a country they never knew and a people they never met,” and the second, located on a nearby marble wall, “Freedom is not free.”

My Grandma was a big supporter of earplugs.

In her typical, disorganized fashion, the earplugs could be found on her bedside table, by the roll of tp on the bathroom counter, or perhaps in the crack of cushions on her sofa. The thing about her earplugs was that they looked like great big boogers. Squishy, soft, moldable. They were, in fact, the wax kind that fit every nook and cranny of your ear canal. I was both fascinated and totally grossed out by the plugs.

And now I stand, on the other side of childhood, needing earplugs. In a few days I’ll be heading to our nation’s capital for the first time — and for five nights will be subject to the amazingly enormous snores of my father (and a few wee ones from Mom, too). The plugs will be my last hope before sleeping in the bathtub.

I wonder if Grandma was onto something with those little snot balls…

I’m in a music rut… Sitting, stuck, thinking and singing old songs. Help! Leave a comment with an album or song that you absolutely can’t live without. Or give a list of albums you can’t live without. Whatever pleases you. Your inspiration is needed.

Bernadette Peters and Monica Bellucci have the same lips.

I wonder what most folks would think about me when reading the following statement, “Diabetes, a disease caused largely by obesity and lack of exercise, has been an increasing worry for decades. From the mid-1960s to the mid-’90s, the number of cases tripled.”

I read this sentence from an article on cnn.com this evening and groaned in frustration!! The truth is that diabetes is caused LARGELY by obesity and lack of exercise — about 90% of diabetics are struck with the condition for these reasons. But I’m exasperated because 10% of us are Type 1 diabetics (also called insulin-dependent or juvenile onset) due to matters far beyond our control. Researchers believe Type 1 is probably caused by a faulty immune system that mistakenly attacks the islet cells which produce insulin within the pancreas. Most people with Type 1 will be diagnosed before age 40, thus the “juvenile” title.

What bugs me most about the general diabetes label is that miseducated, well-meaning individuals think I can exercise off my diabetes or that I shouldn’t be eating sweets, much like Type 2s. So, to set the record straight… My body does not produce any insulin, and will not, without medical intervention, ever produce insulin in the future. And though I must watch my diet, watching it means counting all the carbohydrates and proportionately administering insulin.

The last thing that worries me about the article is that the numbers of Type 2 diabetics is increasing dramatically. Actually, this is a problem of epidemic proportions that all of us should be concerned about. But my main worry is entirely selfish… With Type 2s increasing, I imagine the bulk of research money will be focused on this aspect of diabetes and not as much on curing Type 1.

Glad I got this issue of my chest. Feelin’ better already! (Now go forth a more educated person today.)

Here’s what I love about good music — it’s timeless and full of meaning… I’ve adored “Mysterious Ways” for as long as I’ve heard it. I think my love is based on the line, If you want to kiss the sky better learn how to kneel, On your knees boy! Most of the time, though, I make up my own words, and definitely my own meanings, to songs. So today I found the lyrics to one of my favorite rock songs… And discovered why I like it (and U2) even more:

Johnny take a walk with your sister the moon
Let her pale light in to fill up your room
You’ve been living underground
Eating from a can
You’ve been running away
From what you don’t understand…
Love

She’s slippy
Your’re sliding down
She’ll be there when you hit the ground

It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
She moves in mysterious ways
Johnny take a dive with your sister in the rain
Let her talk about the things you can’t explain
To touch is to heal
To hurt is to steal
If you want to kiss the sky
Better learn how to kneel

(on your knees boy)
She’s the wave
She turns the tide
She sees the man inside the child

It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
Lift my days, light up my nights
One day you will look…back
And you’ll see…where
You were held…how
By this love…while
You could stand…there
You could move on this moment
Follow this feeling
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright

We move through miracle days
Spirit moves in mysterious ways
She moves with it
She moves with it
Lift my days, light up my nights

COME up here, O dusty feet!  
  Here is fairy bread to eat.  
Here in my retiring room,  
  Children, you may dine  
On the golden smell of broom      
  And the shade of pine;  
And when you have eaten well,  
Fairy stories hear and tell.  

Robert Louis Stevenson