Good Friday

my mind, against my will, has been flooded with a consciousness of sin, both my own and others'. i feel entirely broken. filled with grime. emotionally dead.

no better time than easter to meet Christ in healing. i hope.

i don't know how many of ye fellow alums read those mind & heart emails from our darling president, but this bit struck me: "Easter empowers us to live fully in the moment -- our past crucified, our future won. I hope the vitality of spring and the hope of the risen, conquering son bring you optimism and joy in this month of April."

accused

I have been accused of creating situations so I can blog about them. Untrue. Not fair. Be nice to me.

On what is perhaps the lightest note of a difficult few days, I just overheard a neat accent. It was like every stereotypical farmer accent you've ever heard mixed with just the slightest bit of Texas. I could have listened to it for a long time, but unfortunately I was just walking by. It would have been weird. And created a situation about which I could blog. And I don't do that sort of thing.

sob story

My entire body ached this morning. My arms, back, legs, and head yelped in prostest when I tried to get up. It felt like someone beat me up yesterday.

Oh that's right. Someone did.

My 5yo and I had a slight disagreement at the end of my shift yesterday. We had stopped for an emergency potty break at Rite Aid on our way home, and dear 5yo decided she needed some Disney Princess chapstick someone had placed, in a moment of insanity, immediately at child level in the aisle. I said no, we're here to potty and go home. She errupted in sobs and started running around the store. This was slightly embarrassing, but pretty standard. It was when she started hitting herself in the face when I had to step in.

Long story short: we got unceremoniously kicked out, and, all told, I restrained a biting, kicking, scratching, hitting, head-butting, shrieking child for about 45 minutes.

As soon as I started the drive home, I started crying. Sobs that eerily echoed my poor kid's. She had been screaming, "I hate myself. I want to hurt myself. I don't care if you love me. I hate myself." So, I angrily screamed at God, "Where is your redemption for her?" And He said, "It's starting with you." And I cried more.

song in my head for a sunday morning

I've had this song running through my head for the last couple days. It means a lot to me. It was my grandmother's favorite hymn, and I think the last time I heard it at a church service was at her funeral. It's a song my mom plays on the piano.

I am not skilled to understand
What God hath willed, what God hath planned;
I only know at His right hand
Stands One who is my Savior.

I take Him at His word indeed:
"Christ died for sinners"--this I read;
For in my heart I find a need
Of Him to be my Savior!

That He should leave His place on high
And come for sinful man to die,
You count it strange? So once did I
Before I knew my Savior!

And, oh, that He fulfilled may see
The travail of His soul in me,
And with His work contented be,
As I with my dear Savior!

Yes, living, dying, let me bring
My strength, my solace from this spring-
That He who lives to be my King
Once died to be my Savior!

botanic gardens

My mom and I are unabashed nerds. We read compulsively. Books, newspapers, magazines, historic markers at random places on the freeway, all the information at museums, zoos, etcs. As a result, we know a little bit about a lot of things. My mom especially, as she's been reading for 30 years longer than I have. She knows quite a bit about nature, and can name birds, flowers, trees, and small animals that we see. Even in Hawaii.

We went to the Foster Botanic Gardens even though it was raining. We saw gorgeous flowers as big as my head, chocolate and cinnamon trees, and birds.




Heidi tried to take our picture in front of some palm fronds, but we got distracted by a bird singing. "It's a red-breasted bulbul!" said my mom. "Huh?" I responded. This is how the picture turned out: