Resolved to be in Awe

By Clyde Kilby (read the original post here)

1. At least once every day I shall look steadily up at the sky and remember that I, a consciousness with a conscience, am on a planet traveling in space with wonderfully mysterious things above and about me.

2. Instead of the accustomed idea of a mindless and endless evolutionary change to which we can neither add nor subtract, I shall suppose the universe guided by an Intelligence which, as Aristotle said of Greek drama, requires a beginning, a middle, and an end. I think this will save me from the cynicism expressed by Bertrand Russell before his death when he said: "There is darkness without, and when I die there will be darkness within. There is no splendor, no vastness anywhere, only triviality for a moment, and then nothing."

3. I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguous and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event, filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities. I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence, but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood.

4. I shall not turn my life into a thin, straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.

5. I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.

6. I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their "divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic" existence.

7. I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the "child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder."

8. I shall follow Darwin's advice and turn frequently to imaginative things such as good literature and good music, preferably, as Lewis suggests, an old book and timeless music.

9. I shall not allow the devilish onrush of this century to usurp all my energies but will instead, as Charles Williams suggested, "fulfill the moment as the moment." I shall try to live well just now because the only time that exists is now.

10. Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life on the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls himself Alpha and Omega.

Image credit: Ben Canales.

New Look

Yep... I know autumn is almost over, but my sister took this incredibly magical picture of me a couple days ago and I looked at it and said, "That is going to be my header." So there it is.

End of story.

Read this.

I think this is the first time I've done this.... but go read this. It's brilliant.

waywardfancies.blogspot.com/2012/08/to-tame-idea.html

The Ocean's Awe

Ah, the ocean.

What makes it so magical? So humbling? So relaxing? I've never likened the ocean to Christmas before, but my question is the same for both of them:
Why do they give us the moods they do?

Maybe the ocean doesn't give you a mood, or a feeling. But boy does it give me one. This past Sunday our family drove down to see my grandparents in California. On the way we stopped by the ocean to take ten minutes rest or so. As soon as I got out I was hit with a strange feeling. Like hidden exhilaration - it was so grand that it excited me, but so big that it quieted me. What could I be compared to such a thing as that expanse of sky and water before me?

I took my shoes off. The sand was warm and felt like a carpet beneath my feet. That is, until I dug my toes in. Ooooh. Don't we all know that feeling? I, for one, hadn't felt it for some years. It was simply delicious.

Then I looked up. The wind was strong, blowing my hair around my face. Looking straight out at the water, I couldn't see the ends of it to my right or left. It was that big. Wow.
It was so powerful, so awe-inspiring that it filled me with comfort. The huge, wide sky above me, flawlessly blue... the chilly water tickling my feet... the beautiful expanse of endless water in front of me... It's hard to describe why some things just connect us to God. Perhaps it is because the ocean itself is a lover's gift. To: Ariel. From: God.

There was the sense of smallness, against the vastness of this gift. Then there was the sense of gratitude, that I should be here, looking at, breathing in, and digging my toes into this gift. And there was the sense of awe, that God, who locked these "proud waves" into place, was incalculably greater than this ocean that I could not even the measure without turning my head. Yes, God is BIG.

And I am small. But I am loved. I don't want to repeat myself from my last post, but it does not cease to amaze me. Why should He have chosen me? Just another girl walking His shores, just another pair of feet in His waters, just another human in His world....

What's so great about theater?

(That free will post is still in the works. It's going to be a bit longer until I finish it. Let me tell you, that's one tough topic to cover!)


A friend recently told me, "I wish I could understand how stage performance makes you feel." Well, I just can't resist a challenge like that.


So, what's so great about theater? Well, let me tell you. (Oh, and I do warn you - this is rather long.) 


I arrive at the theater, pumped, eager. Greet people I've grown to care about, people I didn't know (or hardly) at the beginning. Marvel at the fact. Run into the dressing room. Smother my face with makeup, while mentally going through my props and costumes to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Talk with the other actresses, in a light, hyper kind of way. Figure out the hard way that this is not the time to debate over free will - my mind is in a tizzy.

Anticipation. It covers all other emotions.

I throw on my 18th century underclothes and run into the house.* Get a small chill, seeing the big place full of empty rows of chairs. Just an hour from now they'll be filled with people. Get my mic taped on my face in four different places, do a quick test. Run to another room to warm up. Feel the energy vibrate through the room as all the actors sing through scales. All focusing their minds. All feeling it - the anticipation. All struggling to leave the problems and stresses of their normal lives behind, determined to bring a magical show to an eager audience. The expectation is there. The thrill is the challenge to fulfill it.

I make my way to the dressing room to get the rest of my costume on. Spray static guard into my hair, make sure my fake eyelashes are tightly glued. Give a few hugs. Meet in the hallway for a quick prayer. Everyone is really energized by this time. But this is the most important part of the night. We thank God for the opportunity, for the audience, pray that all would go well and be to His glory. "Amen." We part.

I go to stage right and fist-bump the actor who plays my father, waiting there. We smile as the lights go down and we're in complete darkness. This is when my heart gets ready to fly. I can hear the murmur of the crowd; I try to imagine how big it is. Then they hush - I stand up, too excited to sit. The announcer begins. His three minute speech seems to take ages. I take the opportunity to stretch and jump in the dark, getting ready for the dancing. I tone the announcer's voice out and send up my own, final prayer to the One audience that counts. And then - "Enjoy the production of ... Cinderella!" The audience claps, and the stage behind the curtain lights up. Excitement reigns. I can't not smile.

Anticipation. The moment has come. With a loud opening chord, the orchestra breaks the silence and the curtain parts. It has begun. I can't wait to get onto that stage.

After the first scene I have a little quick-change. I fly into the dressing room to do it, then rush back out, grab my props from the stage-hand and calmly walk out. "Cinderella!" My stepmother calls, and I run up to the front of the stage. I can barely see how full the audience is, but I try to find out anyway. Then my step-family leaves, and I am in the spotlight. There's dozens of other people onstage, but they are frozen and I know that almost every audience eye is looking at me. The piano starts tinkling and I know I have four measures till I sing. One, two... excitement builds higher and higher in me. The moment has come. I take in a deep breath and begin my song. Vibrato, I'm focusing on it, and making sure I look happy enough. I look out at the blackness that the audience is, barely able to make out peoples' heads. As I sing about waiting for my true love, I stare out at the red exit sign in the back of the house, hoping passion is flowing out of me, hoping I'm drawing in the audience, hoping I'm as in-tune as I sound. Then comes the best part - the orchestra swells as the strings join in, filling up something inside of me, and I crescendo with them, giving the note all I have.

Then it's over, and I feel a little less adrenaline flowing through me. But I was never nervous - no, never. I've done these lines too many times to be nervous. No, it isn't even that... I'm just too happy to be nervous. This stage, these lines, this costume is like my home. And who's nervous at home?

You know, a million things race through actors' minds while they're saying their lines. I can attest to that. My face is totally in character, but as the line flows out of my mouth out of habit, I'm thinking "whoops, I was too far downstage, now the hatbox tipped. I hope it's okay. He's doing good tonight. Oh hooray, the audience laughed at that line! Nuts, I said that one weirdly." When I'm singing my solo in the next scene, I'm thinking of the poor mouse who's ears fell off when he ran in, or how fast the conductor started it, or how I forgot the leave the fan on the table, so I can't use it during the song. Oh well - I improvise, and the audience will never know. The song ends and I, out of breath, wait for the lights to dim. I can feel the heat leave me as the spotlight dies, and I hurry off stage, hoping I don't trip on any set pieces in the dark.

The crying scene is next. I quick-change into my dress and get there just in time. This time I know I have to focus on giving an moving emotional performance, so I struggle to not think about how much the audience laughed at the stepsisters, or whether my hair is sticking up. The stepmother rips my dress sleeve, and I struggle not to smile with joy when the audience rewards us with a loud gasp. I need to look heart-broken. In order to make up for my near smile, I give the next line with extra emotion, almost crying. When the curtain closes behind me, I barely remember it is only me, with nothing but a red curtain behind me - it is up to me to bring tears to people's eyes. I muster all the strength I can manage to finally break down in "tears" and fall to my knees. I don't have time to think how strange it is that I am doing this in front of all these people who are mostly completely strangers - and when I do, it almost makes me laugh it seems so unreal. Quickly I focus back on the task at hand.

The rest of the first act passes too quickly, and soon intermission is over. As I stand waiting to come on, behind the audience seats, beneath those red exit signs, I think once again how beautiful the scene looks - a gorgeous palace backdrop behind rows of elegantly dressed (and wigged!) men and women, dancing away to the swell of the music. The whole scene is lit warmly in yellows and pinks. Then the moment comes for me to enter the ball. I stand on the stairs between two columns of audience seats and wait for the heat of the spotlight.

Then it comes from the right, blinding my right eye. I can see heads turning toward me, hear little girls' whispered exclamations, feel the eyes of everyone on me. But I can't look at any of them. I stand tall, pretending a string is pulling me upwards. Then I begin to walk, slowly, making sure not to trip as I can't look down. When the prince sweeps me into the waltz, I get to relax a little, now focusing on letting him lead the dance. When the other couples join in to swirl around us, I take a moment to enjoy it - the blur of dancing people, golden set, dark audience, dancing people, golden set - rushing by in a dizzying circle. Then, the ending pose, and I try not to breathe too hard.

It's time for the romantic scene. I take advantage of the prince's proposal song to slow my breath and get ready for my own part in the song. I concentrate on the orchestra which I have been taking for granted all evening - it sounds beautiful. I see sweat on the prince's face, but he can't possibly be as sweaty as I am. But no time to think about that - I must focus all my energy on looking utterly in love. I stare in the prince's eyes and pour out my voice - and then it's midnight. Secretly glad to finally get out of this wig and heavy dress, I pretend to be horrified as I run from the ballroom... and into the dressing room. Before two minutes have passed I'm back in my rags, with the help of my incredible mother and friends. I see my water bottle and realize how thirsty I am; I have enough time to swallow several gulps before running back onstage. As I wait for the drop to rise in front of me, I take a moment to relax a little and really "live" the moment.

Next thing I know I'm singing and dancing again with my stepsisters. That is, until my stepmother decides that's enough of that and gives me a vicious rebuke. It's one of my favorite parts, looking at her intense face as she tells me I'm a little fool, and then to once again be solely responsible for conveying my emotion to the audience, without the help of words. As I sing the last note, I savor it, knowing it's my last song of the night. I have just two more short scenes left.

When I finally reveal myself to the prince and he takes the glass slipper to try it on, I watch intently, hoping it will slip on easily. It does and to my joy the audience claps. I smile brilliantly as he carries me off, but all I'm thinking about is my quick-change. As soon as the light goes out we run down the hall. A minute later we regally walk back onstage, in wedding attire. This scene is bittersweet - it's the last, and I know the show is almost over, yet I'm determined to enjoy every last minute. And then ... the music cuts off and confetti bursts from all around. My heart is bursting as well, and as the carriage brings me and the prince on for the bow - and the audience roars - my heart takes wings. I am filled with gratitude. There is nothing quite as satisfying as the thundering sound of a pleased audience. It's not the praise itself - it is the fact that I have won the challenge, that I was part of fulfilling the expectation. It is the fact that I have just brought joy to hundreds of people. That I have brought joy to my King. There is no feeling quite like that.

Then the curtain closes. I feel the strange mixture of intense happiness after a good show, and sadness that the show is over and I can feel the adrenaline dying. I accept many a hug and compliment - so many compliments that they all meld in my mind. It's numbing, really. I just spent the last two hours in bliss - and yet have also pleased those who watched me! God created humans in wondrous ways. The very people who admire what I have just done are the ones who can do all sorts of things I could never excel at. Thus, there is no reason to be boastful in the praise. Just to smile and say "thank you" ... it will suffice. I only hope my smile shows how radiant I feel inside.

One of the things that makes live musical theater so glorious is the fact that it isn't all rainbows and sunshine. It's months of work - of dancing until feet ached, and acting with imaginary props, of trying to give all that emotion when there is no crowd to stir up the adrenaline, of going over the same song phrases again and again and again. It's the glamor and the grime. There's the nights of rehearsals where everyone is tired, the times when someone's feelings get hurt, the 11:30pm rehearsal end times. There's the fake eyelashes to peel off and the mic-tape to forcefully rip off. There sweaty costumes, stinky feet, hot lights... and the glory of never letting the audience know any of it.

After all, it is in fact live. You never know what can happen - it's a constant risk that something will go wrong... and having to cover up for it as if it never happened. Although we all hope nothing will go wrong, we always laugh about it afterward. Every show is different. Every single moment is a unique experience. And I love it all.

As an acquaintance nicely said, "Theater is wonderful because you're being someone else while totally being yourself." And she's right. Although the emotions and words I said onstage weren't really mine, they were - in a funny sort of way. Because no one could have done that performance as Cinderella exactly like me. I brought the character to life in my own way, and - here is the miracle that God is so good to have let me experience - I can pour my own passion into those very words, songs, and emotions that are not mine. Isn't that incredible? Somehow, God made it so that I can take all my excitement, happiness, and adrenaline and use it to bring soul and life to the character. There's really no way to fully explain it. It is indeed a miracle.

So how does all this bring me so much joy? Because it is the outpouring of myself. Every note, every word, every glance is given my everything. I am a creature of passion. I long to find a way to release it, to give it to others, to present it before the Lord. I have yet to find something that is a better instrument of pouring out myself and giving as much "Ariel" ... as this. Ironically, that very friend who didn't understand how it felt summed it up perfectly by saying, "I have never seen you be more fully you." 

So that's what's so great about it.

*"the house" is the theater name for the area where the audience sits
photo credit: J.S. Eddy Imagery

On Little Girls and Princesses

How strange it is to be a celebrity.

I'm not a very big celebrity, that's for sure, considering most of my fans are diminutive females under the age of eight.

Yes, this is me. This is what I've been doing lately - being Cinderella. After the musical, I'm swarmed by mothers with their little girls and cameras in hand. The girls walk up to me with huge eyes, not believing they're actually seeing Cinderella - who they've just watched sing and dance in REAL LIFE for the past two hours. When I bend down to give them a hug, some return it... but most just stand there in shock.

"Look over here, honey!" Their moms hold the phone up and I smile. My cheeks hurtafter the first 10 girls, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. These girls look up to me. There mouths are open and eyes are disbelieving as they finally greet their heroine, a real princess.


Why?  Why is meeting Cinderella the highlight of their month? Why is being a princess their ideal existence?

Every little girl dreams of being a princess. (Well, mostly.) Why is that? Even as a "grown-up" I have a fascination with beautiful dresses. We go from being entranced by mini sparkly princess gowns to trying to hide our squeals as we drive by the sumptuous dresses displayed in the bridal store window. Why is that?

I wish I could remember why. All I can do is smile at these little girls wonder - and wonder myself what they're thinking. Marveling at their innocent sense of idealism. So soon they'll learn that it takes more than the wave of a wand to live in a castle. That Prince Charming will not be a perfect prince. That happily ever after is not attained by magic.

But they'll still never really let go of the little princess in themselves.

Picture credits:
My mom
Rack of dresses
Mirror

It's 70 degrees again

I was sitting at the dining room table. I looked outside. We have a smallish backyard, and here's what I saw.

A couple plastic chairs. Behind them, one of our sweet gum trees. Behind that the old fence. Behind that the neighbor's house. Behind that a big tree. Behind that a huge green mountain. Behind that the sky. Piercing blue sky.

And everything was brightened by the sunlight. It was so beautiful that I just stared at it. Why. Why was it beautiful? I don't understand! A very common problem with me is the lack of ability to explain things. But I'll try...

It was just the fact that the world was so ... 3-D. Everything was so real, and so bright, and so vivid, and so ... Earth. It was just Earth and Earth is so beautiful. I can't get over it. I couldn't stop looking at that mountain, tree, plastic chair, blue sky, because God made the earth so beautiful. How do I explain this? Are we not all blessed with this ability to enjoy what He made for us? I know I'm not the only one, but I also know I forget to look most days.

Really, people. Just take a second and look. It is so easy. I know this probably sounds really cliche, but I am so, so serious! It's too easy to pass by. It's too easy to let God fill you with wonder at ordinary things. They are everywhere - literally everywhere.

And then there was the little bush by the fence; it's sprouting buds now. Wow. I love spring! The sun was so warm on my back and arms that when I opened the door to come inside - to write about all this - I couldn't step inside. So I shut the door and just stood there. Basking in the sun and the light and God's magnificent goodness to me! Yes, to me. It's all a gift to me. That's not even possible to wrap my mind around.

I think I'm rambling, and I'm sorry, but I'm still not over Earth. And I pray I will never get over it. God is the one who gives me the ability to enjoy it after all. Hm. What a lovely thought.

I'm dead serious about this: you need to take a minute - or five or ten - and step outside. Don't dare tell me you don't have one minute. Just stand there, and whatever is there, however cold or hot or boring or beautiful... take it in. Soak it in. Soak in God's Earth. Stand there in silence and let your soul sing thanks to him. Go. Go!

Not Just Another Night

by Ariel J

It is not a pleasant evening to be in town. The streets pour with people – most of them irritable, and most of them voicing their annoyance. Here a child who won't cease his shrill whine until hoisted on his mother's shoulders; there two men arguing heatedly about who ran into whose cart and subsequently toppled its contents into the dirt; everywhere people pushing, crowding, yelling for a relative, trying to keep their sanity amidst the cacophony.

And that's not to mention the animals. Chickens in little cages squawking pettishly at the unsteadiness of their transportation; horses bearing children compliantly and donkeys being pulled along by red-faced men; and cows following slowly, unconcerned about the whole matter.

The resulting racket is unpleasant, to say the least, but what choice does anyone have? If the king said to go to your hometown … well, you went to your hometown. And quickly.

Every other minute a new sign is put out in front of yet another inn: No Vacancy! Somehow, though, these signs don't seem to deter people from pounding on the poor innkeepers' doors.

Amidst all the chaos, who would notice a frail, elderly man hunched in a little corner between two wedged buildings? No one – and no one does. He simply sits there, skinny arms and legs tucked under a frayed blanket, inches away from the swarm of human beings but seemingly untouched by it. His face is placid, yet almost a little sad. But then perhaps not, as his bushy eyebrows are relaxed and his wrinkly face unagitated.

But now – something seems to get his attention. He turns his head slightly to the right, to look at the inn right next to him. There's a younger man at the door once again, pleading with the owner. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the aged man continues to watch.

The younger man, who is lean and strong though not handsome, gestures to a donkey a little ways away. The creature carries a woman who is heavy with child. The man continues to plead with the host, who is still shaking his head. Then the innkeeper disappears inside for a few moments. The old man still watches.

The man emerges with a couple blankets and a lamp. He steps out into the dusk, closing the door firmly behind him. The younger man, looking grateful, moves to get his wife. He takes the donkey's reigns and gently leads the animal forward, following the host. As they pass by the old man, the woman offers him a feeble smile. As if startled by this, he simply watches her with a blank face as they disappear around a corner.

Then, slowly, a lopsided smile spreads on the lined face. It remains there as he slips lower into his blanket, the sky growing ever darker.

Deep into the night, the old man awakes with a start, as a woman's cry fills the air. He blinks, eyes wide, listening. Again a outcry, this one more like a shriek, breaks the silence. The man calms a little, realizing what is happening. He almost smiles and looks up at the night sky. The stars shine effortlessly in the deep darkness, those stars he has seen thousands of times before. Softer groans greet his ears now, but he keeps his eyes on the stars.

Then the man frowns. He squints, looking into the distance. A strange sort of glow comes from near the horizon. It is like someone dropped a bit of the sun's radiance into the black sky. The man is still peering intently at it when it bursts into greater luminance, as if multiplying itself. He stares, wide-eyed, the gleam from the radiance faintly lighting up his face.

He looks astounded as soft strains of some kind of music creep through the dry, cold air. Or is it music at all? It's too quiet to tell, but whatever it is, it is warming. Yes, it is a sound that is warming.

Then, as if finished with its errand, the bright glow vanishes abruptly. For two seconds a soft light hangs in the air where it had been, but that soon disappears as well.

For a whole minute, the old eyes continue to stare at the spot, perhaps hoping the radiance will return, or perhaps doubtful it even occurred. Then the man shakes his head slightly, his face baffled. He leans his head against the ill-painted wall beside him and closes his eyes.

Not five minutes later, he is once again roused from sleep. This time it is by talking. The deep voices are hushed, but still a disturbance at this late hour. Blinking drowsily, the old man looks around, as if slightly confused. Then he looks right as footsteps grow louder …

Four men run by – in a rather disjointed run, for each looks this way and that, searching for something. It is too dark to see who they are, but the fact that they are awake at such a time of night suggests them to be some sort of night watchmen. Their words are too quiet to be understandable, so the old man simply watches them, silently.

Then they are gone, the voices and footsteps getting quieter until someone shouts. Abruptly the running feet stop. The old man's face is in concentration, as if listening for some other sound. But none comes. The men must have found what they were looking for.

Seeming to be a little miffed that this second interruption was not as grand as the first, the old man quickly resituates himself and once again closes his eyes.

Laughter wakens the ancient man. Oh, but laughter, indeed! Who laughs in the middle of the night?

As if genuinely displeased this time, the man stubbornly keeps his eyes closed, unwilling to be awakened. Four men run by him, talking in intense voices, and – yes – one of them laughs. As they energetically pass through the street, one sees the sleeping man. He slows, as if unsure whether to wake him. Apparently he decides it worth the disturbance, for he runs up to the feeble man and shakes him gently by the shoulders.

“Wake up, old man, wake up!” Obediently the man's eyes pop open. He looked surprised, and slightly scared.

The younger man grins at him. “He has been born. He's been born tonight!” he says eagerly. His listener watches him, brows furrowed. “He has finally come to us – the Messiah!” He stands, raising his hands to heaven. “Praise Jehovah, the God of Israel!”

As if unable to contain his joy while standing still, the younger man rushes off in the direction of his companions, leaving the old man with a stunned face. Slowly he reaches for his blanket, which slipped off him in the other man's exuberant shaking. He draws it back up around himself, and his expression slowly changes to awe, wonder.

Then he allows the full effect of the words to overcome him. The crooked smile, which earlier appeared tentatively, now covers his face in an instant. For the final time, he closes his eyes, but the smile does not go away.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it was a pleasant night to be in town after all.

It's coming...

A couple nights ago our family went caroling downtown. I love our downtown – its so old-fashioned and small and downtowny. And I love how the alleyways are filled with shrubs, vines and little benches. But I digress. ;)

Our family sings four-part harmony, and we've learned some new Christmas tunes this year, so we went out in the freezing cold weather to carol to folks downtown. Just the four of us. Despite the fact that my nose, toes, chin and fingers were half-numb, I had a grand time. It's just that feeling … Let me try to describe it to you.

Heart high. Jacket snug. Deep breaths of cold, dry air. Happy faces. Seeing my breath as I sing.
Smiles, thanks from strangers. Dad's top hat. Singing louder, into the winter. Horse drawn carriage trots around corner. Tianna points. Smile, enjoy it.
Laugh.
Love.

Christmas is coming.

70 degrees

To stand outside, barefoot; to feel the warmth of the sun on my arms, then the coolness of the wind; to know that no one can see me but God; to delight in His delight in me.

Mm. This is joy.

I had one of those moments today. I love nature so much. It's enchanting like nothing else. Just to watch the trees sway, and hear the birds sing – oiy, it sounds so cliché. But it brings such a peace of mind to me.
I think I feel closest to God when I'm in nature – which for me means by myself in the backyard. It's not too big, but it's just so... magical. It's God's precious gift to us.
It makes me realize the nothing that I am, and the Something God has made me.

So now you go. Get up. Stop slouching indoors reading blogs! Go outside and revel in God's beautiful earth. He made it for you!

Postscript: (by the way, if you're reading this it means you're very naughty for not going outside like I told you to. What? It's raining? Rain is gorgeous! Go and jump in some puddles! Okay.) Don't expect every post to be like this. I was feeling poetic.