The Sign of the Fish

         In a usual school morning fashion I rolled out of bed, put my hair in a ponytail, ate a bowl of cereal and headed out the door to class. Walking out the door, there before me was something most UNusual. Dangling in the air, suspended by a hook was...  a dead fish. Someone had carefully put it on my mother's bike handlebar beside my purse that was airing out after this last weekends camping expedition. Needless to say, I was throughly grossed out and immediately texted my brother who was in class. He had not seen the unfortunate creature yet and was worried about it's significance. Here is a picture of the poor little fella as evidence that this story is true... 

         Upon reaching class I begin telling my classmates about what I had seen. They all laughed and said that was indeed very strange. I didn't give it much thought until later in the day it begin to nag me. I was positive it was someone I knew quite well because my best friends are all outdoor, ride horses, catch fish, adventure seeking, prank pulling people.  I started questioning Chett, a good friend who was in my first class and had heard the story. He laughed about it but this time he just kept smiling and said that I should ask Ron. The plot thickened when, after texting Ron, I discovered that he found a dead fish on his dorm room door! Chett knew to much so I started pestering him. His response was, "Share your catch with your friends."  I also texted and called Marsh who was next on my list of suspects. His response was, "Well, did you sniff it?" To which I practically fell on the floor in a fit of laughter. Next text, "that's what happens when you sniff a gift fish... random unexplainable things begin to unfold that only fish can control. So, don't sniff it." This sent me into another peal of laughter. Needless to say, I think that the culprits have been found... Marsh and Chett. You pranksters just totally made my day even if it was a sad day for the fish... 

Aslan

This is an excerpt from the Horse and his boy. The imagery is so beautiful and so is the message. It's long but worth reading. 

"I do think," said Shasta, "that I must be the most unfortunate boy that ever lived in the whole world. Everything goes right for everyone except me. Those Narnian lords and ladies got safe away from Tashbaan; I was left behind. Aravis and Bree and Hwin are all snug as anything with that old Hermit; of course I was the one who was sent on. King Lune and his people must have got safely into the castle and shut the gates long before Rabadash arrived, but I got left out."

And being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks.

What put a stop to all this was a sudden fright. Shasta discovered that someone or somebody was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the Thing (or Person) was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale, and Shasta got the impression that it was a very large creature. And he had come to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there. It was a horrible shock.

It darted into his mind that he had heard long ago that there were giants in these Northern countries. He bit his lip in terror. But now that he really had something to cry about, he stopped crying.

The Thing (unless it was a Person) went on beside him so very quietly that Shasta began to hope he had only imagined it. But just as he was becoming quite sure of it, there suddenly came a deep, rich sigh out of the darkness beside him. That couldn't be imagination! Anyway, he had felt the hot breath of that sigh on his chilly left hand.

If the horse had been any good -- or if he had known how to get any good out of the horse -- he would have risked everything on a break away and a wild gallop. But he knew he couldn't make that horse gallop. So he went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer.

"Who are you?" he said, scarcely above a whisper.

"One who has waited long for you to speak," said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.

"Are you -- are you a giant?" asked Shasta.

"You might call me a giant," said the Large Voice. "But I am not like the creatures you call giants."

"I can't see you at all," said Shasta, after staring very hard. Then (for an even more terrible idea had come into his head) he said, almost in a scream, "You're not -- something dead, are you? Oh, please -- please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!"

Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. "There," it said, "that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows."

Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.

"I do not call you unfortunate," said the Large Voice.

"Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?" said Shasta.

"There was only one lion," said the Voice."

"What on earth do you mean? I've just told you there were at least two the first night, and --"

"There was only one: but he was swift of foot."

"How do you know?"

"I was the lion." And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. "I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you."

"Then it was you that wounded Aravis?"

"It was I."

"But what for?"

"Child," said the Voice, "I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own."

"Who are you?" asked Shasta.

"Myself," said the voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again, "Myself," loud and clear and gay: and then the third time "Myself," whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it.

Shasta was no longer afraid that the Voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.

The mist was turning from black to grey and from grey to white. This must have begun to happen some time ago, but while he had been talking to the thing he had not been noticing anything else. Now, the whiteness around him became shining whiteness; his eyes began to blink. Somewhere ahead he could hear birds singing. He knew the night was over at last. He could see the mane and ears and head of his horse quite easily now. A golden light fell on them from the left. He thought it was the sun.

He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion. The horse did not seem to be afraid of it or else could not see it. It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.

Luckily Shasta had lived all his life too far south in Calormen to have heard the tales that were whispered in Tashbaan about a dreadful Narnian demon that appeared in the form of a lion. And of course he knew none of the true stories about Aslan, the great Lion, the son of the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea, the High King above all kings in Narnia. But after one glance at the Lion's face he slipped out of the saddle and fell at its feet. He couldn't say anything but then he didn't want to say anything, and he knew he needn't say anything.

The High King above all kings stooped towards him. Its mane, and some strange and solemn perfume that hung about the mane, was all round him. It touched his forehead with its tongue. He lifted his face and their eyes met. Then instantly the pale brightness of the mist and the fiery brightness of the Lion rolled themselves together into a swirling glory and gathered themselves up and disappeared. He was alone with the horse on a grassy hillside under a blue sky. And there were birds singing.

The Horse and his Boy ~C.S Lewis

Wedding

       Today marks history's sweetest wedding up to this point, Julie's and Mom's are coming up though. Kristina Dunn, well now Dubs, is probably the worlds sweetest person. Years ago in high school a friend died and she held me for hours while I cried. It was more than just a friend dying though it was tears bottled up that hadn't had a chance to break free yet. When finally they did break free she was there for me. She has made my life more beautiful in so many ways and I am happy beyond words that she has found the man of her dreams.

       One thing that hit me the most at this wedding was that both of them waited. God made it clear to both of them, even though it took a little while, that they were meant for each other. Now, they know that God has placed them together and even when the hard times come they will be reminded that it was God who engineered their romance. What can be more satisfying than knowing that you are where God wants you?

       Waiting is scary but a future with the wrong person is even scarier. Lord, decide who you have for me because I can't choose on my own. Design my romance and please give me the patience to wait...

Direction by Impulse

This is half of a devotional by Oswald Chambers... I read ahead to tomorrows date and man did this hit me, so I'm sharing it. Hope it hits you like it did me.

         "Discipleship is built entirely on the supernatural grace of God. Walking on the water is easy to impulsive pluck, but walking on dry land as a disciple of Jesus Christ is a different thing. Peter walked on the water to go to Jesus, but followed Him afar off on the land. We do not need the grace of God to stand crises, human nature and pride are sufficient, we can face the strain magnificently; but it does require the supernatural grace of God to live twenty-four hours in every day as a saint, to go through drudgery as a disciple, to live an ordinary, unobserved, ignored existence as a disciple of Jesus. It is inbred in us that we have to do exceptional things for God; but we have not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things, to be holy in mean streets, among mean people, and this is not learned in five minutes."

Beautiful!

I could but won't. Would I really want it when it came down to the line? Probably not ready. This time no impatience. Help! Waiting... it will be worth it. Not convinced.  Lord, give me the patience to wait. You must open the door. Trust... need that as well.

Green Grass/Tall Mountains

"I'm gonna live where the green grass grows

Watch my corn pop up in rows

Every night be tucked in close to you

Raise our kids where the good Lord's blessed

Point our rocking chairs towards the west 

Plant our dreams where the peaceful river flows

Where the green grass grows"

Dreams

Dreams are funny things. Somehow deep down, there are dreams that are channels to our emotions. Yeah, there are some weird ones with wolves that say, "I'm talking to ya, boy" or you are walking down the road with a cougar stuffed in a potato chip bag after the cougar starts chewing on your brother... crazy, but sometimes they are realistic. People you know are there and the conversations you have reach new depths or you realize that someone who has meant the world to you only pops into your dreams as a person who is out to hurt you. Dreams like that bring realizations that maybe, deep down, something different is going on in your brain then what you are trying to convince yourself. Dreams reach into the recesses your feelings and if you can remember them in the morning, bring a new perspective to your life. It may seem crazy but seriously, notice your dreams.