Vibrato

I love my brother. Who else would could I practice singing "I Dreamed A Dream," harmonizing or whistling with? All of which are quite epic failures. Especially the whistling. We have great times. Moe runs, watching Rhett & Link, foraging for food in the kitchen at random hours and listening to Owl City in Monique with the bass all the way up through Collegedale. My preferred music to listen to through Collegedale, with the windows down, is scottish music. Wes hasn't quite gotten comfortable with this yet. Work in progress I'd say. Hopefully him reading this will do the trick. ;-) We have travel plans, moments of random silliness that then turn to deep discussion... We are totally ourselves and it's so fun. The list could go on for a while so to sum it up... Siblings, you just gotta love them!

Surah Al-Mu'min

61. It is Allah Who made the night for you to rest in it, and made the day for seeing. Allah is full of grace and bounty to mankind, yet most people do not give thanks.

62. Such is Allah, your Lord, the creator of all things. There is no God but Him. How, then, are you being deluded?

63. Likewise are those who deny the Signs of Allah deluded.

64. It is Allah who appointed for you the earth as a dwelling-place and the sky a canopy over it. and fashioned you and made your shapes beautiful, and has provided you with pure and good things. Such is Allah, your Lord. So, Blessed is Allah, the Lord of the Worlds!

65. He is the Living One. There is no god but Him. So, pray to Him, making religion pure for Him only. Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the Worlds!

Absolute Truth

The definition of absolute truth is as follows... an unalterable and permanent fact. Most religions know that they have the truth so, is that their absolute truth? Is there a truth that trumps all? Post modern culture doesn't believe in it. It is pretty much whatever you decide to believe, that is then your truth. I know where I stand but want to hear other peoples opinions. So, do you believe in absolute truth?

Mountain

In desperation she ran. Her lungs gasping for air as she pushed higher and higher. Looking behind her to see how much ground she has climbed, she realized that the switchbacks she has been running had only gained a little altitude. The answer lay ahead, a path running straight up the mountain. Leaving the switchback trail her running slowed to a walk. Body pleading for mercy but upward she climbed.

The desperation pushed her forward without stopping for air. For what seems like hours the girl continued on. Thoughts stream through the creek-beds of her mind searching to find relief so that peace could reign. Pleading with God for answers she climbed further, rocks sliding from under her feet. No answers came. She hardly noticed the chirping birds or the scolding squirrels that added beauty to the colored trees all around her. Soon the forest grew thinner as her slowing steps brought her closer to the mountaintop. Moss lined the trails and she hoped that perhaps the answer lay just over the next rise. 

Finally, the top. Jumping over the rocks she looked for the best place to view the valley. She finds it, a tree that couldn't take the force of the wind, and gingerly made her way along its trunk until she found a semi-comfortable spot. Sitting down she breathed in the wind that swept across the mountain, setting the sun-spotted leaves dancing. 

The valley was not what she expected. Wilderness was really what she was longing for but below her lay roads and subdivisions. An occasional car honk would be brought by the wind, marring the silence that she had been longing for. With a sigh she looked beyond, to the mountains that lay smoky in the distance. Perspective, peace was what she was longed for, not just a beautiful view. She found herself whispering a prayer and the answer came as the wind kissed the tears streaming down her face. An airplane flew by at eye level. She longed to fly away but in a way she was. Flying away from the stress to a place where peace begin trickling in. 

Minutes past and as they sped by peace filled her soul with a smile that reached her lips. The valley below was calling, rejuvenated she hopped off the friendly old tree. Climbing the stones back to the mossy path she glanced back at the view. It was beautiful. Smiling, she trotted back down the trail to what she had been running from. Somehow, in the stillness of nature, she found the answer. Thoughts unclouded she once again knew He was running with her, never to leave her side.

"The Sovereign Lord is my strength; He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, He enables me to tread on the heights." Habakkuk 3:19 

Sequence of an Epic Weekend

Left at 0430 and drove 3 1/2 hours to see a friend graduate at Fort Bennings from basic training in freezing cold temperatures with serious amounts of wind chill. Totally worth it for the band and to see Josh graduate though. 

This band was amazing and so organized, in typical military fashion.

Josh is on the first row on the left. All of their movements are exact and in sync. Crazy!

Just an awesome picture of us awesome friends on the field that had dirt from 17 different battlefields across the U.S. placed there by important people. 

Chaplain McGraw (stationed in Italy & head of chaplains in North Africa) and his fam bam minus a sister!

This picture, though a tad blurry, is my favorite of the very fun day. 

After the 3 1/2 hour trip back that we all slept through, Wes and I went down to dads to carve pumpkins.

Wes digging in the bowels of the poor helpless pumpkin.

My unfinished pumpkin

Wes, dad and my pumpkin (left to right)

On Saturday night, Wesley, Mom, Kenny and I went down to Atlanta to see Matthew Perryman Jones in concert. Molly Parden opened for him and she had a beautiful voice. It was the first time she sang for a sold out crowd. It was unfortunately in a bar but we didn't realize this when we bought the tickets. It was a most interesting experience being in a bar with my 18 y/o brother, mother and her fiance. It was my first time in a bar and hopefully my last. Quite interesting...

Matthew Perryman Jones & Molly Parden at Eddie's Attic

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