Wheels and Winds and Wandering Souls

There’s a sign tied to the ride’s green gate. It’s fluttering and hard to read, but I finally make out “Ferris Wheel Closed Due to High Winds”. I try to ask the man running the Ferris Wheel if it will open again soon, but he is inside the shut gate, eating a sandwich that he appears very absorbed in. Sierra starts walking away, but I stay rooted and she’s holding my hand, so she has to stay, too. I stare at the sign and wish for the high winds to settle down to a nice, gentle breeze.

     I feel Sierra backing in to me. An old man is trying to grab her hand. I pull her close, but don’t bother running away. I could knock the man over, that shows how frail he is. And he’s old-seventy or so. His dark, wrinkly skin hangs on his arms more like a loose-fitting jacket than skin. He stretches his gnarled, trembling hand out to mine. The fingers are twisted in directions fingers were never meant to go. Some of his nails are an inch long; others are broken off in rough, jagged lines. I gently push the withered hand away. He grins at me, a toothless grin, and then totters off. I feel heavy inside.

        Once he had been as innocent as people get, only crying and sleeping and eating and wanting to be held and loved. I wonder what brought him from that to this, stumbling around drunk at a carnival in rags and bare feet. Did he choose a hard life for himself, or had he never known anything else? And if he had never known anything else-maybe his father had beaten him, or maybe he didn’t know his father at all-then why am I walking around in new shoes with a wad of bills in my pocket? Why him and not me? I try to follow the weather-beaten man with my eyes, but he is lost in the back-and-forth swarm of people.

      Suddenly the carnival’s neon colors seem garish and gaudy. There’s no enchantment to the music-box tunes or painted ponies or shouts of the balloon man, and the popcorn smell feels overdone. All I see is the grey concrete underneath me and the faces going by. So many faces. So many souls. And so, so much wandering.

Hello There.

I might
(just maybe)
start to blog again

because,

life is beautiful...

...and weird...

...and sometimes confusing.

         I've been learning how to think and pray and talk, things I thought I already knew how to do, but I didn't really. God is shaping me into the image of His Son and giving me a whole new perspective on the world-"In Your light do we see light!" (Psalm 36:9). Living this perspective comes first, and it's wonderful, even in the times it hurts because I have to relinquish my desires-especially in those times. But for me, not writing about life is impossible. When I keep the words inside, they get bored and start fistfights in my head. For real. And sometimes, when I do write things, I want to share them. Not always, but sometimes.

 So my little blog is revisited. And to be perfectly honest, more than anything else it's because I'm not afraid of being called a nerd anymore. (Seriously, name one high schooler who blogs and isn't homeschooled!) 

        I guess that's another part of the new perspective God is hammering into me, little by little. As Paul says, "If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ." (Galatians 1:10) Even the tiny things, even writing and ignoring my insecurities, are part of becoming who God wants me to be, which is just a trifling, infinitesimal part of the BIG master plan to glorify Him. That's the purpose the world spins upon.

And so, here I am. Hello again!

Love,

Me

And the World Spins On

Summer is gone. Vanished.

Last I remember, there was a rush of swimming and sleepovers and trips to the beach, of scrambling to complete that ever-elusive summer to-do list. Amidst all the confusion, vacation slipped from my grasp. School was upon me.



Art filing: one of those to-do list items that didn't actually get done until last weekend.

Sending some short stories into a magazine was one of the first things on my summer to-do list, and I actually did it. Sort of. I mailed them all without stamps, so...this is take 2. :P

 My mind is a blur of biology definitions and character development and Euclid's postulates right now. It's easy to look wistfully at my summer photo albums and feel trapped in a world I certainly never wished for. But I can't let myself forget-life doesn't end after summer vacation.

God can use me just as well now as He could when I didn't have the constraints of school. He even understands geometry, for crying out loud! So, until Jesus returns and saves us from the world that feels especially imperfect right now, I'm going to try to "be diligent to be found by Him without spot or blemish and at peace" (2nd Peter 3:14). At peace, not anxious or discontent. Knowing I've run the race to the best my ability and given Him all glory.

Pray for me :)

 



Finished! :)

Now I just I need to send a copy to my favorite twins!

A Musical Monologue in the Third Person

(how's THAT for an exciting title?!)

Words are and always will be Aubrey's first love. Music has quietly crept up on her over the years. Both of them together? Rather wonderful, she thinks. (And she seriously has no idea why she is talking about herself in the third person.)

Aubrey is doing choir for the first time this year, and thus has already imagined herself as a world-famous singer/songwriter. The realistic half of her mind constantly reminds Aubrey that it won't happen, but the other half, being irrational by nature, blissfully ignores it.

And so, Aubrey turns her head to songwriting-in the noun's most singular form. Literally, Aubrey has written ONE SONG (almost). Here are the first verse and chorus she has come up with so far:

We seek to know ourselves and to change who we will be

But we easily forget who we are

What we will be is a mystery

Still we forget eternity

As we search for identity on earth

We know that when he appears

We'll be like Him

For we will see Him as He is

The confusion melts away like the mist when the sun is rising

Finally I can see through the glass

It's still blurred, like a vision

But the dream is soon to pass

And I'll look upon Your lovely face at last.

Love,

Me

The Eternal Farewell

We awoke that morning, not gently. Not to singing birds or warm sunlight, like in the stories, but to Truth. Its icy tendrils wrapped around us, digging into our skin, seeping into our blood, weaving its way through our bodies until it pierced our hearts.

The mirror had lost its deceptive sheen. Looking into it, we saw what we really were: hideous, disfigured, unspeakably vile. I watched you cry through the curtain of my own tears. The droplets froze on your mutilated face.

I felt Truth begin to wrap around my throat, strangling me. Breath came out from my twisted lips in broken gasps. I pleaded with you to cry for help, because you were still standing. You would not. A sneer transformed your face from wretched and pitiful to evil. It was watching you harden that gave me the strength I needed. With the last of my air, I croaked out the Name.

I had been taught the Name, heard it from many who had called on it before. So had you. Indeed, we both had even said we believed in the Name’s power. But not until that morning when Truth came had either of us called it.

The ice inside of me transformed into a raging fire, burning in my very soul. Warmth and life spread through my limbs. The mirror rippled, and the face in it-my own-transformed into a thing of beauty. Not pure, but a shadow of what it could be and someday would be. I had seen that face before. It belonged to the Name. No one alive had seen the Name, but I knew it well enough to recognize without seeing. It was inside of me-Truth, the Name, whatever one calls Him. Yes, Him.

I turned to you. Your face was contorted with inward pain, but no scream escaped your lips. You were not breathing at all. Truth had frozen within you because you refused to call the Name. Your heart was stone, you were a monster. Not yet complete Suffering, but a shadow of it, as I became a shadow of Him. You turned and began to run, straight towards an endless black pit. I ran after you, crying out your name, begging you to call for Him. You would not listen until you were over the pit’s edge. Then, it was too late.

I could not follow you. Because He is within me, there is another place I run to in the end, a place of joy. It could have been your home. But you were too proud.

You counted surrender as too high a cost for the salvation of your soul.

There and Back Again {Camp Regen 2012}

I'd been anticipating it for a whole year, building up images in my mind of what it would be like. The images grew in quantity and magnitude as camp got closer and closer. I was warned by my parents to reel in my expectations, lest I be bitterly disappointed.

I didn't.

And for once, I wasn't let down.



"Nomad to Ghost Rider. Do you read me, Ghost Rider? We were just wondering how our dust tastes. Apply cold water to burn and await further instructions. Over and out."



 Very possibly, the van ride was the best part of the entire trip. Not only were the coolest people ever in mine (or probably because they were), we sang and danced for the vast majority of the time. I never before realized it was possible to dance in a van. There were great conversations about struggles and the hope of Heaven, several gripping games of Mafia, and a lot of stupidly hilarious inside jokes. ("Look! There's a Tuscan Raider riding an Al Qaeda!")

CrossLife!

We pulled into the Glorieta campus at 4:00 PM, our van rocking (literally) with the combined energy of 14 sugar-high, underslept teenagers who'd been crammed in a van together for 20 hours. Awesome.

Andrew Guiterrez and Austin Duncan who is, by the way, my new favorite speaker.

The first session, taught by Austin Duncan, was on the Lordship of Christ.

Pre-session reaction: "Oh boy, I've heard this a million times already. Guess this one is for the unbelievers who were dragged here."

Post-session reaction: [insert bawling here]

I was in tears. Never before did I fully grasp the completely implications of Christ being Lord of the Universe, and of my life. I am His posession. He is not only the purpose and master of my existence, but the essence of it. I owe everything to Him; my sole goal is to glorify Him and preach His Word.

Small group was full of tears and testimonies. Pledges to keep eachother accountable. Prayers.

Wow. 2 hours into camp, and already God is working in wonderful ways.



^Morning devotions and just chilling with my Meir <3^

HOO, HA, YELLOW JACKETS! HOO, HA, YELLOW JACKETS! RICKA RACKA FIRECRACKER SIS BOOM BAH! YELLOW JACKET YELLOW JACKETS RAH RAH RAH!

(rally session)

The games were fun, and messy, and loud, and...messy. Yeah.

Apparently, the game crew's idea of fun for highschoolers is feeding eachother disgusting foods and getting muddy. And actually, it was pretty fun. xD

The legendary Kajavikankan, which is supposed to be played around a trash can with a pig's head on it. We kinda got off-center :P Our pig was named Wilbur.

 Night game #2-Ultimate Steal the Bacon Tournament, played in 50 degree weather while being sprayed by fire trucks. If I hadn't gotten hypothermia, it would've been almost as fun as Mission Impossible, the first night game. That one made you feel like a secret agent. This, more like a gladiator.

Love these girls <3

Highlights: every single small group, but especially the first and last. Van ride. Being Simeon's sister. Talking with Meir and Flo in the canoe. Stealing Arob's soccer ball. Meeting Austin Duncan in the Chuckwagon. Emma flat ironing my hair (nobody recognized me :D). Flash mobbing. Mission Impossible. Our team owning Neb's Head. Brazilian Joe. "Hello, how ya durin', how ya durin', hello." Hearing Pastor John MacArthur, who is practically a celebrity ;)

With John MacArthur

 It was  time of raw honesty, intense Spiritual growth, and pure, immature fun. I walked away bursting with meaningful conversations and love for every single person in CrossLife.

God has blessed me so much here.

I can honestly say I'm ecstatic to share the Gospel and live a life on fire for Christ alongside so many other faithful Believers. Camp changed me, not just on the emotional level, but forever.

And, hopefully, I'll be back next year.

(Mrs. Langenberg gets all photo credit.)