new summer shoes

Chacos.com

Taylor Swift: a CD review

She's got talent. Undeniable, outstanding talent. Not only did Taylor Swift write or co-write every song on her debut album, but her voice is real; nothing like the high-pitched falsetto sound that comes from many female singers. At age 16 she burst on the scene with her hit single, Tim McGraw. Sweet song, like most (but not all!) on her first album. Well written, catchy, enjoyable...but relatable? Not for me. All but three of the fourteen tracks on Taylor Swift are about boys. This leaves me in a quandry. I am fond of Taylor's voice, and I enjoy country pop. But in order to really love a song, I think you have to connect. Feel it. Empathize with it. Being a girl who isn't currently into dating, I honestly don't understand the song I'm Only Me when I'm With You. When Our Song or Picture to Burn comes on the radio, I can sing along, but I can no more relate to getting a dozen roses (or planning revenge against a guy!) than I can to walking on the moon.

On the other hand, Taylor's song A Place in This World is fantastic. Why? Because I can associate with it.

Got the radio on, my old blue jeans/And I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve/Feeling lucky today, got the sunshine/Could you tell me what more do I need/And tomorrow's just a mystery, oh yeah/But that's ok

I'm alone, on my own, and that's all I know/I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh but life goes on/I'm just a girl, trying to find a place in this world

In conclusion? Taylor Swift is a fenomenal singer and songwriter. If you can relate to her music, you should definitely add both Taylor Swift and Fearless (her newest album) to your CD collection. And if you can't, sing along when she comes on the radio, but save your money.

Super Sister

growing up

When my sister moved away after high shcool, I was angry. My best friend of twelve years was moving halfway across the country, into a different world. A world I was excluded from entirely. I was angry with my sister, my parents, life, and God. Why couldn't we stay how we always were? Why did we have to grow up? Why did she have to move away? More than ever, I felt Jo March and I were akin.

Slowly, as the months and years passed, the anger abated. I came to realize this was just the way it was, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to reverse time, as much as I wanted to. My mom always told me that, even though a wonderful thing had ended, something else wonderful would start. My sister and I would always have a good relationship, no matter where we were. I found that extremely hard to believe. Gone were the days of bomb shelter on the bunk beds and buddy-buddies all day long, and nothing could be better than those things. Ever.

In the past month, I have had some of the most fun with my sisters ever. Mom was right. Even though it's not playing American Girl dolls or dollhouse every afternoon, we still have fun together. RK lives in Omaha, working and going to school. AC is in college and has a job, and I have a job. Time with all of us together is rare. We will never all sit down at the dining room table and bicker our way through morning school again. We will never set up an entire village of houses, playgrounds, and shops on the commons floor again. We will never again own check stores and banks, trading money like it was going out of style. Although that makes me sad, I've accepted it. The things we do have changed, but the relationships haven't. They are still strong and real.

The old is gone, and the new is here. Over Christmas break, we all stayed up watching creepy movies. Some friends went on vacation, and wanted my sister to house-sit. We all trooped over there and spent the night in a strange house - without Mom and Dad. It was fun. It was grown-up.

Life is always moving forward, while I trip along trying to catch up.

Pages are turning now
This is abundant life
The joy in the journey
Is enough to make a grown man cry

Andrew Peterson, Little Boy Heart Alive

thinking on things - part 2

Several years ago, the paper featured an article about a semi-local man who believed he was actually a woman - mistakenly placed in a man's body. I have always been a very sensitive person - perhaps even overly sensitive. I was scared at night way past when I should have been, and reading nasty things in the paper before bed sent me straight into my sister's room for the night. Reading this article was no exception. It creeped me out.

Several weeks later, we were in a Goodwill store, perusing the clothes. I looked up, and a couple of rows over was a person who was tall and broad shouldered, wearing a dress, and sporting long hair and makeup. I knew instantly it was the person I had read about in the paper. A weird feeling came over me, and I could not wait to get out of that store.

I mentioned in my last post that I had run across the blogger profile of a gay man. A couple of days later I watched a video where a gay man talked about why he left the army - he was being harrassed and ridiculed because of his transgender-ism.

This peculiarity seems to be popping up all over the place, so I have begun to think on it more. How do we, as Christians, react? Before thinking this through, I was of the opinion that homosexuality was one of the grosser things I had ever heard of. I still believe that. But I am not longer under the idea that we should wall off any contact with anything gay whatsoever. Homosexuals are human beings. Designed by God. Purposed by God. Made by God.

Loved by God.

The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.' But wisdom is proved right by her actions.

Matthew 11:19

But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

Matthew 9:13

If Jesus is our example, then there is no place for shunning people we disagree with, no matter how dramatic we think the sin.

thinking on things - part 1

Last night, thoughts and emotions swirled around, quite at their own liberty. I felt like a jigsaw puzzle inside.

He sent from above, He took me; He drew me out of many waters. he delivered me from my strong enemy, from those who hated me, for they were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the Lord was my support. He also brought me out into a broad place; He delivered me because He delighted in me.

Over the past month, my opinions have sidled toward the radical end. Relatively speaking, of course. Tame for some, but definitely radical for me. In discussions with sisters and friends, I have stood up for pink hair, tattoos, nose rings, and words across the backside of women's pants. I'm not sure why. Do I suddenly require a good and valid reason for what is considered acceptable and what is not, or am I feeling rakish - like some small deep inner part of me wants pink hair herself?

I don't know. Whatever might be the cause, I have been arguing for revolutionary - as far as my conservative Christian circle is concerned - ideas.

Until last night. I was blog surfing, and came across the blogger profile of a transsexual person. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was crawl into my mommy's lap and be completely ignorant of the world. Miss Stand-up-for-the-weirdo was suddenly feeling a bit shaky in her former stance.

Being the sheltered, homeschooled, country bumpkin that I am, my mind cannot even wrap itself around such a twisted idea as "female to male" persons. So unused to such unusualness, that I felt slapped in the face. By a blogger profile. What's up with that?

Feeling excessively unnerved, I went up to my room, turned on Nichole Nordeman, and opened my Bible. What I read was the above passage. It doesn't seem to directly apply to rock punks or homosexuals, but in the midst of my mind whirling in a spiral of questions, God simply says "I delight in you." Even though I am grappling with how a person would relate to or act towards a bisexual person, God still "sent from above, delivered me from my strong enemy," and "delivered me because He delighted in me."

With my feet planted on that promise, I can never go astray.

never alone

riding home

I went on a lengthy trail ride on Wednesday. A guess would be fifteen miles, but it was through pasture and over hills as well as down the road, so one can't be certain.

The beginning was a bit slow - several miles of straight, flat, gravel road. Then we turned off onto a dirt road that wound between a belt of trees and a cornfield. After some time the dirt road petered out, and we made our way into a local farmer's pasture. The next several hours Faith and I conquered steep upgrades and downgrades, creeks to cross, and logs and twigs scattered across the muddy ground. By the time we made our way back out to the road, we had both worked up a sweat, but it had been glorious. Utterly delightful. Challenging, but splendid. A bit worrisome when the back leg of the horse in front of us pummeled through the shaky mud walkway into the running water below, but fun to plow straight ahead anyway.

The last few miles back to the trailer were hard. Because Faith was recovering from an injury this summer, I spent May through August on an arena baby - not out on the trails. Fifteen miles sitting in that saddle was a bit rough on my posterior, not to mention my ankles. Three miles before I finally crawled off, I felt like giving up. Every step my horse took hurt, and when she picked up the trot, oh! My body felt miserable, but my mind was still enjoying the ride. Delight and pain, a feeling of success about my ride and the soreness it created, all swirled together in one odd, unique feeling.

It made me wonder. In a sense, is that how the elderly feel? They've been on a long, long ride. Some flat stretches...sometimes flat stretches for so long it got boring. But then, wham! A cliff is thrown in their face, and they have to jump off - no other option. But then, they make it back up on the other side of the valley, and are exhilarated about life. They've jumped logs, forded streams, and ridden more flat roads. During the last fifth of their life, things get hard. They get sore, and tired, and achey.

Maybe they just want to go home...

our flag

(picture taken by myself; edited by MissA and myself)

A thoughtful mind, when it sees a Nation's flag, sees not the flag only, but the Nation itself; and whatever may be its symbols, its insignia, he reads chiefly in the flag the Government, the principles, the truths, the history which belongs to the Nation that sets it forth.

Henry Ward Beecher

a beautiful evening