I really haven't posted in a long time, have I?
Going to Lana's church tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it; should be a pretty different style of service than what I'm used to, and that's a good thing. And of course, I'm just excited about getting to be with Lana and her family.
Then, that afternoon at her church, we have the second of our wedding showers! Yippee great and glorious joy! The one last Sunday, at my church, was a blast, and now we get to do another one! Pretty cool to think about getting presents from a bunch of people most of whom I've never met.
Heading into the home stretch with school; three weeks of class left. It's strange, the way semesters go by. You get situated in your new classes, then you get used to them and they just become a part of regular life, then before you know it they're wrapping up. Cannot wait to bid this semester farewell and head into what promises to be the greatest summer of my life.
Forty days left till marriage. Sounds very surreal, yet for some reason it isn't, to me. It just feels right, to know that I'm spending my last few days in my family's house, that I will soon leave it and not come back (except to visit, of course), that I will begin to live with Lana and continue living with her for the rest of my life.
As I prepare for that, I'm still looking for one key component -- my job. The company that I have been working for had to downsize this year and I probably won't be working for them again in the foreseeable future. So I'm exploring options and trying to find a job. My personal goal is to have a job by the end of this coming week, so please pray that God will guide my search and lead me to the job He has for me, in His time.
That's all for now. Sorry for the length of time between posts; hopefully I'll be able to post more frequently in the future. God bless all of you.
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Slow March of Time
Wanted to write one more post while it's still March. Especially while it's still March 31. Because as my lover wrote for a school assignment due today, "March 31 only comes once a year - celebrate it!"
Right now I am glad to be finished with March, mostly because it allows me to move on to April, and after April comes - well, you know. All sorts of people are now telling me how quickly May 23 will come. And well, yeah, it is - and I kinda feel bad that it's coming quickly for my dear future mom-in-law, because she has so much to do to get ready, and even though it's a special day for her, she's not the one getting married. I don't guess I've thanked you for all your work, Mrs. T - Thank you so much! It overwhelms me how hard you're working to make my and Lana's day even more special.
But I'm not the mother-in-law, I'm the groom, and May 23 seems so far away still. I miss Lana so badly. I even miss her when I'm with her now - not because her presence is lacking in some way; I'm missing something else, that we've never had and won't have until the wedding day. It hurts to not be able to hold her hand or kiss her or wrap my arms around her. But I know, however much of an eternity it may seem, the end is very near.
I wrote an article for the upcoming CtB (which is, BTW, the last one, if you hadn't heard that yet) about waiting for my wedding and how it must parallel Jesus' waiting for His own wedding. Definitely something I'd never thought about before.
Well, I'm gonna go to bed now. Please be in prayer for me and Lana, especially Lana in the next few days; she has a lot of school assignments to do and not much time to do them. And also, we've been going through some...well, spiritual warfare, is the way she put it today, and I think that's right. So pray that God will focus our hearts on Him and that we will trust Him with everything.
BTW, I apologize for the title of this post. It's terrible, I know. I just couldn't resist...
Right now I am glad to be finished with March, mostly because it allows me to move on to April, and after April comes - well, you know. All sorts of people are now telling me how quickly May 23 will come. And well, yeah, it is - and I kinda feel bad that it's coming quickly for my dear future mom-in-law, because she has so much to do to get ready, and even though it's a special day for her, she's not the one getting married. I don't guess I've thanked you for all your work, Mrs. T - Thank you so much! It overwhelms me how hard you're working to make my and Lana's day even more special.
But I'm not the mother-in-law, I'm the groom, and May 23 seems so far away still. I miss Lana so badly. I even miss her when I'm with her now - not because her presence is lacking in some way; I'm missing something else, that we've never had and won't have until the wedding day. It hurts to not be able to hold her hand or kiss her or wrap my arms around her. But I know, however much of an eternity it may seem, the end is very near.
I wrote an article for the upcoming CtB (which is, BTW, the last one, if you hadn't heard that yet) about waiting for my wedding and how it must parallel Jesus' waiting for His own wedding. Definitely something I'd never thought about before.
Well, I'm gonna go to bed now. Please be in prayer for me and Lana, especially Lana in the next few days; she has a lot of school assignments to do and not much time to do them. And also, we've been going through some...well, spiritual warfare, is the way she put it today, and I think that's right. So pray that God will focus our hearts on Him and that we will trust Him with everything.
BTW, I apologize for the title of this post. It's terrible, I know. I just couldn't resist...
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
What happened one year ago today
It was Tuesday, and we were sitting in American Lit class, my best friend and me. Occupying our usual seats in adjacent desks on the left side of the large classroom, near the front. Usually she made it to the classroom before I did, was sitting there waiting; and we would chat before class.
At about 9:29 am, Professor Ann Winters walked into the room, holding some highly-anticipated documents: our graded papers. Our assignment had been to write papers on the role of family in one of the short stories we had read early in the semester. Lana and I had each decided, independently, to write about "The Revolt of 'Mother'" by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman. We had gathered sources, written, rewritten, had writing conferences with Ms. Winters, and finally turned in our final copies to her. Now anxiously we awaited the verdict, the grade, the pronouncement of doom.
The good professor began to walk around the room, distributing graded papers to various students. She handed Lana's paper to her; my best friend flipped through it till she could see the grade, and immediately burst into tears. Oh no.
Her paper had received a grade of 69. Not because of the quality of the writing, but because of a technicality on sources. Ms. Winters had told us earlier in the semester that in order to make a C or higher on the paper, we had to exactly follow the rules on how many sources were in our paper.
Lana had been unsure of whether her secondary sources qualified to meet the rules. But since she had met with Mrs. Winters to look at the paper, and Mrs. Winters hadn't said anything about the sources, Lana assumed they were fine.
She was wrong. And she didn't make a C or higher on the paper. And now she was crying, and asking Mrs. Winters why she had received this grade.
The professor didn't budge. She told Lana that the guidelines for sources had been clearly laid out on our assignment sheet. However, she said, she was willing to let Lana fix the sources and turn in the paper again for a new grade; Lana's final grade for the paper would then be a composite of the old grade and the new.
It was a merciful deal, on the whole, but Lana's poor grade had wounded her. She wept off and on throughout the entire class. Once or twice she looked over at me, but I had no words for her. Even with Ms. Winters' willingness to regrade the paper, Lana's grade wouldn't be as high as it should have been.
The class discussion covered a couple of poems by Robert Frost: "Design" and "Out, Out --". My notes only show the rhyme scheme of the poems, though I'm certain we discussed them much more deeply. I tried to pay attention, but I was mostly focusing on my friend and how bad I felt for her.
At the end of class, we gathered our backpacks and walked out of the Holt building, heading for our next class in the Gardner building. Beginning to cry again, Lana talked about how she felt betrayed by Mrs. Winters. I wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her, to make her feel better. All I could do was listen, and sympathize.
Now we were sitting in the Gardner lecture hall, with about ten minutes till the American Revolution class started. Lana was still trying to control her tears. I glanced over at her, then looked away again.
And at that moment I fell in love with my best friend. Emotions I had never felt before began to sweep over me. I looked at her and knew that now, in this moment, I loved her as I had never loved her before, as I would never love anyone else. While she cried over her grade, while I sat in silence, I knew that I had irrevocably crossed a line.
From the very first summer I met Lana (2003), I had prayed about her as a prospect for marriage. I was careful as I prayed, never assuming what was God's will, pleading with Him to show me one way or the other and to allow me to keep my heart undefiled. He didn't show me, not for a long, long time. I became Lana's friend, and then her close friend, and then her best friend, and all the while I grew increasingly more attracted to her. But my heart was still mine; I had not given any part of it to her.
Now it was all hers. And for the first time I allowed myself to feel the feelings that I had shunned for so long. I knew that God had at last revealed His answer to me, had shown me that this crying young woman beside me was to be my bride. And I loved her.
In class that day, Dr. Robert Willoughby lectured on the American-British standoff at Boston in 1775, after the Battle of Bunker Hill. His lecture, as always, was engrossing and enlightening; I took diligent, copious notes, but my mind was rather elsewhere.
And Lana Marie had no idea, would have no idea for nearly six months. We grew even closer as friends, and spent a lot more time in class together, and worked on a movie together, and prayed for each other. She thought that perhaps someday I would ask to court her. Someday, some far-off time in the future. Maybe.
And she didn't know, not till a candle-lit evening in August, that I was madly in love with her, a passion both utterly secret and wholly pure.
It was February 27, 2007. One year ago today.
At about 9:29 am, Professor Ann Winters walked into the room, holding some highly-anticipated documents: our graded papers. Our assignment had been to write papers on the role of family in one of the short stories we had read early in the semester. Lana and I had each decided, independently, to write about "The Revolt of 'Mother'" by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman. We had gathered sources, written, rewritten, had writing conferences with Ms. Winters, and finally turned in our final copies to her. Now anxiously we awaited the verdict, the grade, the pronouncement of doom.
The good professor began to walk around the room, distributing graded papers to various students. She handed Lana's paper to her; my best friend flipped through it till she could see the grade, and immediately burst into tears. Oh no.
Her paper had received a grade of 69. Not because of the quality of the writing, but because of a technicality on sources. Ms. Winters had told us earlier in the semester that in order to make a C or higher on the paper, we had to exactly follow the rules on how many sources were in our paper.
Lana had been unsure of whether her secondary sources qualified to meet the rules. But since she had met with Mrs. Winters to look at the paper, and Mrs. Winters hadn't said anything about the sources, Lana assumed they were fine.
She was wrong. And she didn't make a C or higher on the paper. And now she was crying, and asking Mrs. Winters why she had received this grade.
The professor didn't budge. She told Lana that the guidelines for sources had been clearly laid out on our assignment sheet. However, she said, she was willing to let Lana fix the sources and turn in the paper again for a new grade; Lana's final grade for the paper would then be a composite of the old grade and the new.
It was a merciful deal, on the whole, but Lana's poor grade had wounded her. She wept off and on throughout the entire class. Once or twice she looked over at me, but I had no words for her. Even with Ms. Winters' willingness to regrade the paper, Lana's grade wouldn't be as high as it should have been.
The class discussion covered a couple of poems by Robert Frost: "Design" and "Out, Out --". My notes only show the rhyme scheme of the poems, though I'm certain we discussed them much more deeply. I tried to pay attention, but I was mostly focusing on my friend and how bad I felt for her.
At the end of class, we gathered our backpacks and walked out of the Holt building, heading for our next class in the Gardner building. Beginning to cry again, Lana talked about how she felt betrayed by Mrs. Winters. I wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her, to make her feel better. All I could do was listen, and sympathize.
Now we were sitting in the Gardner lecture hall, with about ten minutes till the American Revolution class started. Lana was still trying to control her tears. I glanced over at her, then looked away again.
And at that moment I fell in love with my best friend. Emotions I had never felt before began to sweep over me. I looked at her and knew that now, in this moment, I loved her as I had never loved her before, as I would never love anyone else. While she cried over her grade, while I sat in silence, I knew that I had irrevocably crossed a line.
From the very first summer I met Lana (2003), I had prayed about her as a prospect for marriage. I was careful as I prayed, never assuming what was God's will, pleading with Him to show me one way or the other and to allow me to keep my heart undefiled. He didn't show me, not for a long, long time. I became Lana's friend, and then her close friend, and then her best friend, and all the while I grew increasingly more attracted to her. But my heart was still mine; I had not given any part of it to her.
Now it was all hers. And for the first time I allowed myself to feel the feelings that I had shunned for so long. I knew that God had at last revealed His answer to me, had shown me that this crying young woman beside me was to be my bride. And I loved her.
In class that day, Dr. Robert Willoughby lectured on the American-British standoff at Boston in 1775, after the Battle of Bunker Hill. His lecture, as always, was engrossing and enlightening; I took diligent, copious notes, but my mind was rather elsewhere.
And Lana Marie had no idea, would have no idea for nearly six months. We grew even closer as friends, and spent a lot more time in class together, and worked on a movie together, and prayed for each other. She thought that perhaps someday I would ask to court her. Someday, some far-off time in the future. Maybe.
And she didn't know, not till a candle-lit evening in August, that I was madly in love with her, a passion both utterly secret and wholly pure.
It was February 27, 2007. One year ago today.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
School starts tomorrow...
Tomorrow it's:
History and Development of the English Language 10:00-10:50
History of the United States 1900-1945 11:00-11:50
Editing for Usage, Style, and Clarity 1:00-2:15
Then on Thursday I have:
Imaginative Writing 9:30-10:45
Advanced Nonfiction Writing 12:30-1:45
Right now I'm actually almost excited about the semester. Well, maybe it would be more accurate to say that I'm not dreading it (which is still pretty good). Mr. Cooper, a wonderful instructor who taught two of my classes last semester, returns as my Editing prof. And I've got my all-time (thus far) favorite instructor, Ann Winters, for Imaginative Writing.
And I've got my all-time favorite classmate for four of my five classes, so that's, like, pretty much the greatest thing about this semester. No, it really is. That and the fact that it's my last semester as a bachelor.
It's pretty cool because every week, I can be counting down to not just summer break, but the most anticipated day of my life too. Wait, did I say pretty cool? Yeah, that's amazing stacey.
Printing CtB on Friday, Lord willing. Thank you to all who subscribe to this magazine and help it in any way. We've been doing it for over two years now!
And let me just take this opportunity to say that I love my fiancee and she is the most incredible person in the world! Lana, my darling, you're so godly and beautiful and smart and thoughtful and Christ-like and loving and sensitive, and I cannot wait to wed you nineteen weeks from this Friday!
History and Development of the English Language 10:00-10:50
History of the United States 1900-1945 11:00-11:50
Editing for Usage, Style, and Clarity 1:00-2:15
Then on Thursday I have:
Imaginative Writing 9:30-10:45
Advanced Nonfiction Writing 12:30-1:45
Right now I'm actually almost excited about the semester. Well, maybe it would be more accurate to say that I'm not dreading it (which is still pretty good). Mr. Cooper, a wonderful instructor who taught two of my classes last semester, returns as my Editing prof. And I've got my all-time (thus far) favorite instructor, Ann Winters, for Imaginative Writing.
And I've got my all-time favorite classmate for four of my five classes, so that's, like, pretty much the greatest thing about this semester. No, it really is. That and the fact that it's my last semester as a bachelor.
It's pretty cool because every week, I can be counting down to not just summer break, but the most anticipated day of my life too. Wait, did I say pretty cool? Yeah, that's amazing stacey.
Printing CtB on Friday, Lord willing. Thank you to all who subscribe to this magazine and help it in any way. We've been doing it for over two years now!
And let me just take this opportunity to say that I love my fiancee and she is the most incredible person in the world! Lana, my darling, you're so godly and beautiful and smart and thoughtful and Christ-like and loving and sensitive, and I cannot wait to wed you nineteen weeks from this Friday!
Monday, December 17, 2007
Honor
By popular request...at least, it's a popular request if SHE requests it. ;-)
This was my familiar essay for Advanced Composition, a class that I took LAST SEMESTER (HA!).
It goes out of its way to explain at least a few things that you already know, but my writing teacher didn't know them, so I put them in there. I'm sure you won't mind hearing them again.
I would like to dedicate it to my editor, who is the most beautiful editor I ever met and who provided needed help in improving this paper. I think I'd like to marry her, actually. I wonder if it's okay to have that kind of relationship with your editor...
Honor
In an age where sensuality rules, the old concept of honorable romance has been all but abandoned. Rampant dating has made us break all the rules that used to hold for love – and to be proud about it. There’s no respect for parents, no respect for a girl’s heart, certainly no respect for her body. Honor, the idea of truly respecting another person and putting her before yourself, is a thing of the past. Once upon a time, a girl could hold out hope that her date wouldn’t kiss her on their first time out. Now most guys want to do nothing but find a bed, and aren’t afraid to get down to business about it. It’s an age of STIs, of date rape, and of broken homes before and after sex.
But somewhere on this earth, honor is alive and well. Somewhere a guy respects a girl and loves her enough to wait – not merely for sex, but for his love to be returned. Somewhere the world is screaming “foul”, wondering what he’s thinking, why he doesn’t just peel off her clothes and be done with it, or at least hold her hand. Welcome to my love story.
Thursday, August 23, 2007. A warm evening but not hot, few bugs, clear sky. A perfect night, all in all, I thought, as I stood on the property of the Loukota family just outside Van Buren. They had been my good friends for several years, and now they, and their daughter in particular, were about to become so much more. I knew that, and they knew that; she didn’t, and it was our job to surprise her in storybook fashion.
We had set a clever trap, the parents and I. While the original plan was mine, it was woefully inadequate. Tyler and Tracy helped me to crank up the romance scale and turn this night into one that Lana Marie Loukota and I would never forget.
Picnic table out by the Loukotas’ pond, set with a blue checkered tablecloth that just happened to match my shirt. Candles floating, that’s right, floating, on the pond; hanging from tree branches around; adorning the table. A bottle of the tastiest grape juice I have ever put in my mouth. And a perfect hiding place about seventy feet away, where I could lie in wait for my beloved.
We had tossed around a couple different contrivances for getting Lana out there. Tyler finally decided on a pretty sneaky one. The day before, he reminded Lana about when she was younger and had had poor table manners. Back then, he had told her that whenever she became a real lady, he would take her out to dinner. They had both forgotten about it for a long time. He would take her out to the pond as if to fulfill his promise. She would see the setup as providing an evening with her dad, not realizing who she would really spend it with.
It’s 8:10 pm and I’m pacing nervously among the trees. T. J., the eldest Loukota child at twenty, has returned home with his two youngest brothers, whom he had taken to McDonald’s: a diversion for him and for them. He’s now doing something over in the shop, a mere twenty feet away. I wonder whether he’ll spot me; later he will tell me that he briefly noticed something through the window but dismissed the sight as nothing.
My phone rings. It’s Tyler, though the plan was for it to be Tracy. I open it, knowing what he’s about to say. “Hello?”
“Start counting,” he replies tersely, then hangs up. It’s the preordained signal to let me know that Lana has returned from Riverwalk, a local apartment complex where she is involved in a church ministry on Thursday nights.
I shut the phone and focus on my watch, the one that Tyler gave me nine days ago when I asked him if I could court his daughter. It’s a nice watch, and it will always remind me of how much Lana’s parents care for me. For right now, it mostly reminds me that my time as a single is running out. Two minutes to wait, two minutes. Time has never flown faster.
At about one minute and thirty seconds, I begin to hear the roar of an approaching train on the tracks just outside the property. It gets louder and louder. I nearly panic; what I am about to do will not work with the train this loud. Mercifully, it dies down a bit but still continues, and I am able to go forward with the plan at about the two minute, twenty second mark.
I call Lana. Her dad will be in the bathroom, waiting for me to call her while he’s ostensibly doing something else. She answers. I try to hide a quaver in my voice as I ask her how the evening at Riverwalk went. She’s excited about it; a good number of kids showed up and they had a delightful time. I express some meaningless positive thought in response.
Soon, she informs me that she has to let me go and will call me back. I know far better than she does why she has to let me go, but don’t say anything about it. We say our goodbyes and hang
up. I crouch in my hiding spot and wait.
About forty seconds later, my future bride and her father come walking into sight, toward the table, holding hands. She looks around in wonder at the atmosphere he and I have worked hard to create. Tyler seats her with her back to me, facing the pond and its floating candles. He takes a seat opposite her and begins to talk.
I’m not really sure what he said; he wasn’t sure beforehand exactly what he’d say either, but he told me to wait twenty seconds and then come bail him out. I follow the plan and begin stepping cautiously, quietly, toward my true love. The train is still moving in the background, providing some great sound cover.
It’s too perfect. I get right up behind Lana without her hearing me. Tyler has glanced over at me a couple times while I was on my way, and now he tells Lana something about being sorry that she had to hang up with Luke. Completely disingenuous, tsk tsk; but the divinely appointed opening.
I open my mouth and in a flash she knows. “Yeah, I guess I understand if you can’t call me back right away.”
She turns and gapes for just a moment, then smiles, stunning me with her composure. Tyler says something; I again don’t know what and I don’t figure she does either because we were both paying attention to something else. Anyways, my future father-in-law makes his exit for the house, and I sit at the table across from my true love.
Of course, I knew what I’d say once I sat down. Our standard greeting, unimaginative, but fitting. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she responds. My heartbeat speeds up. This is really it, kid. You’re really here. You’ve made it.
Helplessly, I stall for about a minute and a half. “So do you want to small talk?”
She shrugs graciously and says “I don’t care”, still smiling. Of course she doesn’t want to small talk. She wants you to spit it out and make all her dreams come true. So do it, chump.
Opening my mouth, I try really hard. But I can’t do it. I just can’t. I need help from God, and so I ask if we can pray. Of course we can. We bow our heads, and I take a deep breath. Then another. And another.
I pour out my heart to God briefly, thanking Him for His goodness and asking Him to help me tonight. Amen, and we look up. And I can’t be silent about this anymore. She’s waiting, for heaven’s sake.
Mentally I clear my throat, unfortunately having no reason to do it physically. “All right, I’ll cut to the chase. With the blessing of both sets of parents, I would like to ask you to enter into a courtship relationship with me, culminating in marriage.”
There. Statement One has been made. That one’s easy compared to Statement Two. The ball is now, temporarily, in her court. Her eyes glisten as they fix steadily on mine. “What can I say?” she finally blurts. “I’d love to?” I can’t help but smile. “Yes,” I hear, “I will.”
Wow. Just, wow. With the fact that we are now officially a couple established, we begin to talk about all kinds of things, all centered on what has just begun. The candlelight allows us to spend a lot of time looking into each other’s eyes, and it’s a whole new experience. We’ve looked each other in the eye before, but would never have allowed ourselves to drink the other person in, to gaze unblinking into one another’s souls. I can’t hold her gaze for very long; it’s so piercingly innocent and joyful.
After a while of alternate talking and silent gazing, I begin to review our relationship, from the day we first met to the present. I reference February 27 as the day that I knew I was going to marry her, but let her know that I’m not going to tell her about what specifically happened then until later. She allows me to skip over it and carry us to the present.
We talk for a long time more, about kids and courting and parents and how great God is. All the while, though I’m more conscious of her than anything else, I cannot believe how amazingly perfect the evening is. I don’t want it to ever end.
At last, ten o’clock draws near, the time set by her parents for us to come back to the house. And I still haven’t told her about February 27. Finally, after waiting past ten, I know I can delay no longer. Statement Two must finish the deal, now.
“My lady,” I begin in a clipped British accent, “you have shown remarkable patience and forbearance, but time is running short and we still have not discussed the matter of the 27th of February. Do you wish to do so now?”
With eyes dancing, she smiles and answers formally, “I do.”
“Very well; then I shall tell you.” But before telling her, I want to make something very clear. “Lana, let me preface this by saying that I don’t want you to think that I merely believe this is God’s will, although I do; that I merely love you as a friend, although I do; or that I am merely very strongly attracted to you, although I am.”
And I proceed to tell her about 2/27/07. We were in American Lit class that day at UAFS, with Mrs. Winters our professor. It was the day we had gotten our graded essays back, and because of a technicality Lana hadn’t realized, she got a D on it. Mrs. Winters offered an opportunity to revise the essay and redeem much of her score, but Lana was still completely torn up. She didn’t stop crying through American Lit, and was still crying as we went to our next class. I relive it all for her, telling her how terrible I felt about it, how unable I was to even try to comfort her. And then how, sitting with her in the lecture hall of the Gardner Building, waiting for American Revolution to commence, I fell in love with her. We had been best friends for a while at that point, but that was the moment when God showed me that we were to marry, and allowed me to give my heart away. I had kept it back all my life, had never allowed any girl to have it, and from that moment it was all hers.
And I wrap up by saying those long-awaited words to my bride-to-be: “Lana, I love you.”
Her eyes begin to well up again as she takes in all that I have told her. Then, quietly, she fulfills my dream. “I love you too.”
But I want to make something clear. “Do you?” I query.
“I do.”
Because, I say, I don’t want to pressure her in this in any way. “I want you to always know that when I tell you I love you, it’s not because I want to hear it back. It’s because it’s true.”
She stares at me with gratitude and, yes, love, and reaffirms that she truly does love me.
And I am overwhelmed. I go on to tell her another vital thing that I have longed to say for so long: how beautiful she is. To tell her that “I truly believe you are the most beautiful creature I have ever put my eyes on.” Awkward wording at the last, but at least I get it out. I tell her that she’s not merely beautiful, but pretty; that there is a difference in my view. Tears form in her eyes again. She knows at last how beautiful she is, how I see her. “And I like to think,” I finish, “that when I look at you, I get a glimpse of the beauty that God sees when He looks at you.”
She gazes at me tearfully. “That’s beautiful,” she whispers. “Thank you. Thank you.”
After a short while longer, we blow out the candles, head back to the house, and inform her brothers of our status change. We’ve waited for years to fall in love, have kept our hearts back, have stayed away from any semblance of romance. We will still wait to express any physical affection, even holding hands, until the wedding day. But the journey has begun, and we’re taking it together.
You just can’t tell me honor is dead. You can’t tell me it doesn’t work. You can’t tell me it’s not romantic.
My eyes tell me otherwise.
This was my familiar essay for Advanced Composition, a class that I took LAST SEMESTER (HA!).
It goes out of its way to explain at least a few things that you already know, but my writing teacher didn't know them, so I put them in there. I'm sure you won't mind hearing them again.
I would like to dedicate it to my editor, who is the most beautiful editor I ever met and who provided needed help in improving this paper. I think I'd like to marry her, actually. I wonder if it's okay to have that kind of relationship with your editor...
Honor
In an age where sensuality rules, the old concept of honorable romance has been all but abandoned. Rampant dating has made us break all the rules that used to hold for love – and to be proud about it. There’s no respect for parents, no respect for a girl’s heart, certainly no respect for her body. Honor, the idea of truly respecting another person and putting her before yourself, is a thing of the past. Once upon a time, a girl could hold out hope that her date wouldn’t kiss her on their first time out. Now most guys want to do nothing but find a bed, and aren’t afraid to get down to business about it. It’s an age of STIs, of date rape, and of broken homes before and after sex.
But somewhere on this earth, honor is alive and well. Somewhere a guy respects a girl and loves her enough to wait – not merely for sex, but for his love to be returned. Somewhere the world is screaming “foul”, wondering what he’s thinking, why he doesn’t just peel off her clothes and be done with it, or at least hold her hand. Welcome to my love story.
Thursday, August 23, 2007. A warm evening but not hot, few bugs, clear sky. A perfect night, all in all, I thought, as I stood on the property of the Loukota family just outside Van Buren. They had been my good friends for several years, and now they, and their daughter in particular, were about to become so much more. I knew that, and they knew that; she didn’t, and it was our job to surprise her in storybook fashion.
We had set a clever trap, the parents and I. While the original plan was mine, it was woefully inadequate. Tyler and Tracy helped me to crank up the romance scale and turn this night into one that Lana Marie Loukota and I would never forget.
Picnic table out by the Loukotas’ pond, set with a blue checkered tablecloth that just happened to match my shirt. Candles floating, that’s right, floating, on the pond; hanging from tree branches around; adorning the table. A bottle of the tastiest grape juice I have ever put in my mouth. And a perfect hiding place about seventy feet away, where I could lie in wait for my beloved.
We had tossed around a couple different contrivances for getting Lana out there. Tyler finally decided on a pretty sneaky one. The day before, he reminded Lana about when she was younger and had had poor table manners. Back then, he had told her that whenever she became a real lady, he would take her out to dinner. They had both forgotten about it for a long time. He would take her out to the pond as if to fulfill his promise. She would see the setup as providing an evening with her dad, not realizing who she would really spend it with.
It’s 8:10 pm and I’m pacing nervously among the trees. T. J., the eldest Loukota child at twenty, has returned home with his two youngest brothers, whom he had taken to McDonald’s: a diversion for him and for them. He’s now doing something over in the shop, a mere twenty feet away. I wonder whether he’ll spot me; later he will tell me that he briefly noticed something through the window but dismissed the sight as nothing.
My phone rings. It’s Tyler, though the plan was for it to be Tracy. I open it, knowing what he’s about to say. “Hello?”
“Start counting,” he replies tersely, then hangs up. It’s the preordained signal to let me know that Lana has returned from Riverwalk, a local apartment complex where she is involved in a church ministry on Thursday nights.
I shut the phone and focus on my watch, the one that Tyler gave me nine days ago when I asked him if I could court his daughter. It’s a nice watch, and it will always remind me of how much Lana’s parents care for me. For right now, it mostly reminds me that my time as a single is running out. Two minutes to wait, two minutes. Time has never flown faster.
At about one minute and thirty seconds, I begin to hear the roar of an approaching train on the tracks just outside the property. It gets louder and louder. I nearly panic; what I am about to do will not work with the train this loud. Mercifully, it dies down a bit but still continues, and I am able to go forward with the plan at about the two minute, twenty second mark.
I call Lana. Her dad will be in the bathroom, waiting for me to call her while he’s ostensibly doing something else. She answers. I try to hide a quaver in my voice as I ask her how the evening at Riverwalk went. She’s excited about it; a good number of kids showed up and they had a delightful time. I express some meaningless positive thought in response.
Soon, she informs me that she has to let me go and will call me back. I know far better than she does why she has to let me go, but don’t say anything about it. We say our goodbyes and hang
up. I crouch in my hiding spot and wait.
About forty seconds later, my future bride and her father come walking into sight, toward the table, holding hands. She looks around in wonder at the atmosphere he and I have worked hard to create. Tyler seats her with her back to me, facing the pond and its floating candles. He takes a seat opposite her and begins to talk.
I’m not really sure what he said; he wasn’t sure beforehand exactly what he’d say either, but he told me to wait twenty seconds and then come bail him out. I follow the plan and begin stepping cautiously, quietly, toward my true love. The train is still moving in the background, providing some great sound cover.
It’s too perfect. I get right up behind Lana without her hearing me. Tyler has glanced over at me a couple times while I was on my way, and now he tells Lana something about being sorry that she had to hang up with Luke. Completely disingenuous, tsk tsk; but the divinely appointed opening.
I open my mouth and in a flash she knows. “Yeah, I guess I understand if you can’t call me back right away.”
She turns and gapes for just a moment, then smiles, stunning me with her composure. Tyler says something; I again don’t know what and I don’t figure she does either because we were both paying attention to something else. Anyways, my future father-in-law makes his exit for the house, and I sit at the table across from my true love.
Of course, I knew what I’d say once I sat down. Our standard greeting, unimaginative, but fitting. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she responds. My heartbeat speeds up. This is really it, kid. You’re really here. You’ve made it.
Helplessly, I stall for about a minute and a half. “So do you want to small talk?”
She shrugs graciously and says “I don’t care”, still smiling. Of course she doesn’t want to small talk. She wants you to spit it out and make all her dreams come true. So do it, chump.
Opening my mouth, I try really hard. But I can’t do it. I just can’t. I need help from God, and so I ask if we can pray. Of course we can. We bow our heads, and I take a deep breath. Then another. And another.
I pour out my heart to God briefly, thanking Him for His goodness and asking Him to help me tonight. Amen, and we look up. And I can’t be silent about this anymore. She’s waiting, for heaven’s sake.
Mentally I clear my throat, unfortunately having no reason to do it physically. “All right, I’ll cut to the chase. With the blessing of both sets of parents, I would like to ask you to enter into a courtship relationship with me, culminating in marriage.”
There. Statement One has been made. That one’s easy compared to Statement Two. The ball is now, temporarily, in her court. Her eyes glisten as they fix steadily on mine. “What can I say?” she finally blurts. “I’d love to?” I can’t help but smile. “Yes,” I hear, “I will.”
Wow. Just, wow. With the fact that we are now officially a couple established, we begin to talk about all kinds of things, all centered on what has just begun. The candlelight allows us to spend a lot of time looking into each other’s eyes, and it’s a whole new experience. We’ve looked each other in the eye before, but would never have allowed ourselves to drink the other person in, to gaze unblinking into one another’s souls. I can’t hold her gaze for very long; it’s so piercingly innocent and joyful.
After a while of alternate talking and silent gazing, I begin to review our relationship, from the day we first met to the present. I reference February 27 as the day that I knew I was going to marry her, but let her know that I’m not going to tell her about what specifically happened then until later. She allows me to skip over it and carry us to the present.
We talk for a long time more, about kids and courting and parents and how great God is. All the while, though I’m more conscious of her than anything else, I cannot believe how amazingly perfect the evening is. I don’t want it to ever end.
At last, ten o’clock draws near, the time set by her parents for us to come back to the house. And I still haven’t told her about February 27. Finally, after waiting past ten, I know I can delay no longer. Statement Two must finish the deal, now.
“My lady,” I begin in a clipped British accent, “you have shown remarkable patience and forbearance, but time is running short and we still have not discussed the matter of the 27th of February. Do you wish to do so now?”
With eyes dancing, she smiles and answers formally, “I do.”
“Very well; then I shall tell you.” But before telling her, I want to make something very clear. “Lana, let me preface this by saying that I don’t want you to think that I merely believe this is God’s will, although I do; that I merely love you as a friend, although I do; or that I am merely very strongly attracted to you, although I am.”
And I proceed to tell her about 2/27/07. We were in American Lit class that day at UAFS, with Mrs. Winters our professor. It was the day we had gotten our graded essays back, and because of a technicality Lana hadn’t realized, she got a D on it. Mrs. Winters offered an opportunity to revise the essay and redeem much of her score, but Lana was still completely torn up. She didn’t stop crying through American Lit, and was still crying as we went to our next class. I relive it all for her, telling her how terrible I felt about it, how unable I was to even try to comfort her. And then how, sitting with her in the lecture hall of the Gardner Building, waiting for American Revolution to commence, I fell in love with her. We had been best friends for a while at that point, but that was the moment when God showed me that we were to marry, and allowed me to give my heart away. I had kept it back all my life, had never allowed any girl to have it, and from that moment it was all hers.
And I wrap up by saying those long-awaited words to my bride-to-be: “Lana, I love you.”
Her eyes begin to well up again as she takes in all that I have told her. Then, quietly, she fulfills my dream. “I love you too.”
But I want to make something clear. “Do you?” I query.
“I do.”
Because, I say, I don’t want to pressure her in this in any way. “I want you to always know that when I tell you I love you, it’s not because I want to hear it back. It’s because it’s true.”
She stares at me with gratitude and, yes, love, and reaffirms that she truly does love me.
And I am overwhelmed. I go on to tell her another vital thing that I have longed to say for so long: how beautiful she is. To tell her that “I truly believe you are the most beautiful creature I have ever put my eyes on.” Awkward wording at the last, but at least I get it out. I tell her that she’s not merely beautiful, but pretty; that there is a difference in my view. Tears form in her eyes again. She knows at last how beautiful she is, how I see her. “And I like to think,” I finish, “that when I look at you, I get a glimpse of the beauty that God sees when He looks at you.”
She gazes at me tearfully. “That’s beautiful,” she whispers. “Thank you. Thank you.”
After a short while longer, we blow out the candles, head back to the house, and inform her brothers of our status change. We’ve waited for years to fall in love, have kept our hearts back, have stayed away from any semblance of romance. We will still wait to express any physical affection, even holding hands, until the wedding day. But the journey has begun, and we’re taking it together.
You just can’t tell me honor is dead. You can’t tell me it doesn’t work. You can’t tell me it’s not romantic.
My eyes tell me otherwise.
Friday, December 7, 2007
The Word from the Cave
Sitting here knowing I need to do some schoolwork, but my brain isn't very motivated to get up and start functioning like it's supposed to. The rest of the body isn't helping things. The eyes are going, "Can you like give us a break already?" The fingers are getting sick of having to move around and do my bidding on this keyboard. The legs are feeling rebellious; they want to do what they want to do; it seems like they're sick both of sitting still and of moving.
The eyes command the attention, because if they shut down, it gets very dark. So my fingers take a break from the board and become masseuses for a few seconds. The mouth obeys the command of the tired brain and opens for a nice yawn. The legs start bouncing up and down, tired and restless. Deep down somewhere in my chest cavity, the heart works as rhythmically and methodically as it ever has; good thing, because if it emerged and heard the complaints from the rest of the body, it might decide to just start taking breaks or something. That wouldn't be particularly conducive to my health.
More yawns. The arms stretch and flex, trying to get more comfortable. The fingers drag themselves over the keys, no longer caring to lift themselves up, no longer worried about my blasted typing accuracy.
The brain, perhaps startled into action by the Two Towers battle music emanating from my computer speakers, rouses itself and starts shouting out commands. "Sit up straight! Blink a few times! Type properly! You've got work to do!"
OK. It's right. I settle into the chair, position myself taller, force the fingers to hit the keys high and with pride. It's time to work.
It's Friday, the week before finals. Things are now set in motion that cannot be undone. The body shudders a restless breath and begins.
The eyes command the attention, because if they shut down, it gets very dark. So my fingers take a break from the board and become masseuses for a few seconds. The mouth obeys the command of the tired brain and opens for a nice yawn. The legs start bouncing up and down, tired and restless. Deep down somewhere in my chest cavity, the heart works as rhythmically and methodically as it ever has; good thing, because if it emerged and heard the complaints from the rest of the body, it might decide to just start taking breaks or something. That wouldn't be particularly conducive to my health.
More yawns. The arms stretch and flex, trying to get more comfortable. The fingers drag themselves over the keys, no longer caring to lift themselves up, no longer worried about my blasted typing accuracy.
The brain, perhaps startled into action by the Two Towers battle music emanating from my computer speakers, rouses itself and starts shouting out commands. "Sit up straight! Blink a few times! Type properly! You've got work to do!"
OK. It's right. I settle into the chair, position myself taller, force the fingers to hit the keys high and with pride. It's time to work.
It's Friday, the week before finals. Things are now set in motion that cannot be undone. The body shudders a restless breath and begins.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Random thoughts
Random thoughts before I retire (to bed):
Just got done reading a play by Chekhov for Theater class. I'm sure it was deeply moving. Awesomely beautiful. Splendiferously phantasmagoric. I'm glad it's over.
I hate not being able to spend very much time with my family, with my job and school and everything. I love Lana and I want to marry her and live with her more than anything, but the idea of leaving my family makes me want to cry.
I believe; help me with my unbelief.
"It is a curse having the epic temperament in an overcrowded age devoted to snappy bits!" - J. R. R. Tolkien
Romance is like a very special Christmas present from your Father, who gives the best gifts in the whole world. You've waited for it for so long, dreamed about it. Finally, one day, you see it wrapped and sitting under the tree. But you can't open it yet, not for a long time, and you know that shaking it could spoil the surprise that awaits. One day, after staring at it dreamily for a long time, you break down and open it in secret, just for a second, to see what it is. Then you close it up again. As December rolls onward, you do this over and over again. It's pretty fun, very exciting; you talk yourself into believing there was never anything wrong with opening it early. But when Christmas morning rolls around and you get to open and enjoy the whole thing, something curious happens, or rather, has happened. It's, well, not everything you'd hoped. It's exciting, sure, but it's nothing like what you'd dreamed. And you're left to wonder what it would have been like if you'd left the box alone until the appointed time.
Life is a complicated haze of preemptive indigestion.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to just give it up and quit the stupid school thing.
You guys have no idea how awesome it is to get to lead a group of young people in worship once a week.
I have a watch. It's really nice. All the guys in my youth group envy it, although only Aaron is willing to admit it.
Some Christians say that even if we were wrong in what we believe and there was no God and death was the very end, we would still be on the right side because Christians live the happiest lives. I say, balderdash. The Apostle Paul said, if our belief in a resurrection is false, "we are to be pitied above all men." If Jesus did not rise from the dead, there is no hope, all is vanity, period.
"Oh God, bless us. Yea, even curse us. But please be not silent!"
The term "Jesus Freak" used to be a way of insulting Christians. Then a little band called dc Talk turned it around and made it cool. But do you claim it, and if so, do you live up to the title?
There ain't no disguising the truth...Truth can be suppressed, but it cannot be silenced. We get down on Pilate, but he asked the right question; he just didn't wait around for the answer. "What is Truth?"
What will you do for Christ? What will you NOT do for Him?
Just got done reading a play by Chekhov for Theater class. I'm sure it was deeply moving. Awesomely beautiful. Splendiferously phantasmagoric. I'm glad it's over.
I hate not being able to spend very much time with my family, with my job and school and everything. I love Lana and I want to marry her and live with her more than anything, but the idea of leaving my family makes me want to cry.
I believe; help me with my unbelief.
"It is a curse having the epic temperament in an overcrowded age devoted to snappy bits!" - J. R. R. Tolkien
Romance is like a very special Christmas present from your Father, who gives the best gifts in the whole world. You've waited for it for so long, dreamed about it. Finally, one day, you see it wrapped and sitting under the tree. But you can't open it yet, not for a long time, and you know that shaking it could spoil the surprise that awaits. One day, after staring at it dreamily for a long time, you break down and open it in secret, just for a second, to see what it is. Then you close it up again. As December rolls onward, you do this over and over again. It's pretty fun, very exciting; you talk yourself into believing there was never anything wrong with opening it early. But when Christmas morning rolls around and you get to open and enjoy the whole thing, something curious happens, or rather, has happened. It's, well, not everything you'd hoped. It's exciting, sure, but it's nothing like what you'd dreamed. And you're left to wonder what it would have been like if you'd left the box alone until the appointed time.
Life is a complicated haze of preemptive indigestion.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to just give it up and quit the stupid school thing.
You guys have no idea how awesome it is to get to lead a group of young people in worship once a week.
I have a watch. It's really nice. All the guys in my youth group envy it, although only Aaron is willing to admit it.
Some Christians say that even if we were wrong in what we believe and there was no God and death was the very end, we would still be on the right side because Christians live the happiest lives. I say, balderdash. The Apostle Paul said, if our belief in a resurrection is false, "we are to be pitied above all men." If Jesus did not rise from the dead, there is no hope, all is vanity, period.
"Oh God, bless us. Yea, even curse us. But please be not silent!"
The term "Jesus Freak" used to be a way of insulting Christians. Then a little band called dc Talk turned it around and made it cool. But do you claim it, and if so, do you live up to the title?
There ain't no disguising the truth...Truth can be suppressed, but it cannot be silenced. We get down on Pilate, but he asked the right question; he just didn't wait around for the answer. "What is Truth?"
What will you do for Christ? What will you NOT do for Him?
Sunday, October 21, 2007
We did film Saturday, and I am tired
Exclusive screenshots from Saturday, just 'cause I can:
Saturday was a good day of filming. Didn't get everything we'd wanted to get, but I think we got about as much as we could reasonably expect. The morning stuff was nice, because in the three separate major scenes we filmed, I could give my actors the script and tell them to start working on it, and then go off and figure out locations and shot setup with my lovely favorite assistant director. Once we made our plan and got back, the actors would be ready to go, and we could go out and film it. Very nice...
We finally finished the climactic scene of the film, on our third day of shooting it (not that we took all day on it for any of those three days, of course). I'm pretty happy with it. Hopefully you will be too, when you see it, whatever it may contain.
Right now I'm plumb tuckered out, as we say in Arkansas; looking forward to catching about nine hours worth of sleep before embarking on the new week. Fortunately I have nothing due tomorrow and I actually got some work done for Tuesday tonight. So we'll see how I do. My bride-to-be is convinced that I'm already getting too stretched, after one week of working the new job. I certainly hope not.
I guess, since it's past midnight and that was my projected bedtime, I'll get off here and get in bed. I really do want to post something a bit more thoughtful and creative on this thing at some point. Right now, with school and work and church and sleep, it's hard to find the time. But I guess that's okay. As long as I don't get too stretched, right, darling? God will provide for me, I have no doubts there.
Want to thank you guys again just for your prayers and your support, because I know I've got both. I never had particularly wanted to blog for very long before I got this one, but I've really enjoyed writing on it and I've enjoyed reading as much as reasonably possible of you guys' blogs. None as much as my Sunshine Princess, though; sorry. I just really like the way she writes. Maybe since I like her writing so much (and she apparently likes mine; or at least, so I've heard), we should get married. D'ya think?
OK, yeah, I know, I'm officially awful, and I officially don't care. At least I'm fairly coherent, as opposed to my previous post. Anyways, happy sledding, don't let the bedbugs bite, and may the stars of Elbereth shine upon you! And Lana, I love you, my dearest!
Friday, October 19, 2007
Tired and crazy
Wow, another day has already left us. Man.
The job is still going well, today not as smoothly as Tuesday. But yeah, it's different. I'm going to plan my time very efficiently if I want to get my assignments for school done. But it's good.
Today I didn't have class with Lana. It was wonderful. Wish we could do it every week. If you're wondering why I enjoy not having class with her so much, just consider that there's two different ways to interpret that phrase.
OK, I kept starting stupid sentences in the last paragraph and stopping them because I realized how stupid they were, so that means it's probably time to get off and hit the hay. After all, you never know what could be sneaking up behind you when you're on the level of a high-frosted iceberg...OK, I think I've reached critical mass here.
Tomorrow Friday, lots of good filming to do on Saturday, and hey, no work on the weekend! And I get to be with Lana almost all day on Saturday, Lord willing! Yay!!!
And then when the polar bear comes and starts marching toward his position in the left rank of the soldiery, the knights of the Round Table will emerge from their holes and come storming towards the
G'night, all.
The job is still going well, today not as smoothly as Tuesday. But yeah, it's different. I'm going to plan my time very efficiently if I want to get my assignments for school done. But it's good.
Today I didn't have class with Lana. It was wonderful. Wish we could do it every week. If you're wondering why I enjoy not having class with her so much, just consider that there's two different ways to interpret that phrase.
OK, I kept starting stupid sentences in the last paragraph and stopping them because I realized how stupid they were, so that means it's probably time to get off and hit the hay. After all, you never know what could be sneaking up behind you when you're on the level of a high-frosted iceberg...OK, I think I've reached critical mass here.
Tomorrow Friday, lots of good filming to do on Saturday, and hey, no work on the weekend! And I get to be with Lana almost all day on Saturday, Lord willing! Yay!!!
And then when the polar bear comes and starts marching toward his position in the left rank of the soldiery, the knights of the Round Table will emerge from their holes and come storming towards the
G'night, all.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Midterm week, and, discussions, and, Sunday night class
It is the midterm week at dear old U of A Fort Smith. Doesn't seem possible. Before you know it, my Lana and I will be staring finals in the face, and then, ho ho ho, it's on to Christmas we go!
Yesterday I discovered a fact that many of my readers have known for a while (apparently): my darling sister Hannah has two blogs. One for spiritual musings and one for everyday happenings. A Smeagol and a Gollum, as it were (sorry Emy, you won't get it till you read LOTR, mwahahahaha).
Not that there's anything wrong with having two blogs. But there's no way I could ever keep up with it. It's hard enough to post on this one, thank you; plus, I would probably forget which blogs was which and wreak some form of havoc in that ignorance.
So I think I'll stick with Warrior. It's nice, it works, even if I only get to post three or four times a week.
Speaking of which, we've been having some lively discussion in the comment section of the previous post. My bride-to-be and I have been ganging up on our dear Emy on the issue of violence (don't worry; we haven't hurt her, at least not yet). Makes me wonder if perhaps we should start up a discussion forum, like on Ezboard or something like that. They're free and don't look pretty, but they are much more efficient and organized ways to discuss. Plus you can talk about whatever you want, whether or not it relates to a blog post. Of course, some of you seemingly do that already; while reading comments, I constantly see references to stuff I know nothing about -- apparently it relates to some other area of cyberspace that I have not penetrated.
Anyways, commenter people, let me know if you're interested in doing something like that; I could set one up pretty easily. Of course, you'd have to pick and stick with a single username; that could prove bothersome for some of you girls who have a multitude of names (yes, I'm talking to you, Nan/Sarah/Hannah/who knows what else; just kidding; it doesn't *really* bother me). But I think it would be cool, if you guys are up for it. Then again, it'd be one more spot on the Web that you visit regularly, so if you just want to limit yourself to blogs, that's okay too.
Nothing due tomorrow; hurrah! Please pray for me as I am currently applying for the job Brannan mentioned in previous comment sections; I don't know whether it will work or not, but the opportunity can't be a coincidence and so I'm looking at it.
Last night we finished going through Ephesians 5 in youth class. Well, I say finished; we actually didn't get to the end where it talks about husbands and wives and such; but I think we'll cut it off where we stopped. We'll probably do specific studies on marriage roles in the future; I think it's so crucial for young people to learn that while they're still single. I'm still struggling with the whole teaching thing a bit, so pray for me. For a while we basically had a formal lesson where I pretty much lectured the whole time. Lately we've been doing a discuss-through-passage type thing where I kind of lead and everybody has an opportunity to chime in. We've gotten some really good stuff out of that, but I'm not sure that some of our younger believers are getting a lot out of that. So we'll see. I really enjoy getting to do the class and lead in studying the Word; if any of you Branchers have any suggestions, let me know.
Time to lock up and go home; let me know you guys' thoughts on doing a messageboard. If you don't want to, cool with me; it's just a thought.
Yesterday I discovered a fact that many of my readers have known for a while (apparently): my darling sister Hannah has two blogs. One for spiritual musings and one for everyday happenings. A Smeagol and a Gollum, as it were (sorry Emy, you won't get it till you read LOTR, mwahahahaha).
Not that there's anything wrong with having two blogs. But there's no way I could ever keep up with it. It's hard enough to post on this one, thank you; plus, I would probably forget which blogs was which and wreak some form of havoc in that ignorance.
So I think I'll stick with Warrior. It's nice, it works, even if I only get to post three or four times a week.
Speaking of which, we've been having some lively discussion in the comment section of the previous post. My bride-to-be and I have been ganging up on our dear Emy on the issue of violence (don't worry; we haven't hurt her, at least not yet). Makes me wonder if perhaps we should start up a discussion forum, like on Ezboard or something like that. They're free and don't look pretty, but they are much more efficient and organized ways to discuss. Plus you can talk about whatever you want, whether or not it relates to a blog post. Of course, some of you seemingly do that already; while reading comments, I constantly see references to stuff I know nothing about -- apparently it relates to some other area of cyberspace that I have not penetrated.
Anyways, commenter people, let me know if you're interested in doing something like that; I could set one up pretty easily. Of course, you'd have to pick and stick with a single username; that could prove bothersome for some of you girls who have a multitude of names (yes, I'm talking to you, Nan/Sarah/Hannah/who knows what else; just kidding; it doesn't *really* bother me). But I think it would be cool, if you guys are up for it. Then again, it'd be one more spot on the Web that you visit regularly, so if you just want to limit yourself to blogs, that's okay too.
Nothing due tomorrow; hurrah! Please pray for me as I am currently applying for the job Brannan mentioned in previous comment sections; I don't know whether it will work or not, but the opportunity can't be a coincidence and so I'm looking at it.
Last night we finished going through Ephesians 5 in youth class. Well, I say finished; we actually didn't get to the end where it talks about husbands and wives and such; but I think we'll cut it off where we stopped. We'll probably do specific studies on marriage roles in the future; I think it's so crucial for young people to learn that while they're still single. I'm still struggling with the whole teaching thing a bit, so pray for me. For a while we basically had a formal lesson where I pretty much lectured the whole time. Lately we've been doing a discuss-through-passage type thing where I kind of lead and everybody has an opportunity to chime in. We've gotten some really good stuff out of that, but I'm not sure that some of our younger believers are getting a lot out of that. So we'll see. I really enjoy getting to do the class and lead in studying the Word; if any of you Branchers have any suggestions, let me know.
Time to lock up and go home; let me know you guys' thoughts on doing a messageboard. If you don't want to, cool with me; it's just a thought.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Catching Up, and, The Elusive Book
Another week rolling by. The schoolwork looks like it will get really crazy before the semester's over. Can it really be possible that we're actually coming up on midterm? Time flies when you're in love...
I'm beginning to get a little bit frustrated in the writing classes (Advanced Comp and Nonfiction Writing), simply because I don't have the time that I would prefer to spend on the various papers and assignments in those classes. There are a lot of projects going in both, and while I'm not visibly behind yet, I feel like I'm accumulating a wealth of academic debt that I'll have to pay at some point this semester.
But, just have to take things as they come and use spare time to catch up. It's not like life is going to slow down any time soon. And that's okay, because when I have a lot of free time and nothing that really needs doing, I become pretty unproductive, pretty quickly. Busyness isn't always fun, but it just feels right when you're caught up in the midst of it.
The excitement of "the current project" is likely here to stay in one form or another, as well. What I mean by that is that when Hunted finally comes to a close, I'm going to start feeling this massive void due to not having something major like that pressing down on me. So I'm sure I'll start some project or other after that, whether it be a (short) film or a play, or even a book.
It would be so wonderful to get a book written; Lana and I long ago (back in the "just friends" stage, that is) each set the goal of finishing a book before graduation. Of course, I know it's ludicrous to think about starting one right now, with school blazing and Hunted calling; and it may still be ludicrous even after Hunted is in the can (I mean that in the sense of "finished", not in the sense of "kaput"). But it's a dream nonetheless, and at some point you have to start working to make the dream become reality.
What kind of book? Well, a novel, naturally. Fictional storytelling has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I appreciate my Nonfiction Writing course and its emphasis on telling a good story that's true, but I'm frankly more interested in telling fictional stories that are "truthful". Whether that story takes the form of a book, a play, or a movie.
So yeah, we'll see. If I start writing a book, of course I'll let you know -- in time, once I have something substantial, at any rate. I know I'm not ready to write one yet, but as the love of my life pointed out, maybe I need to begin the work before I can truly be ready. Time will tell, and God will reveal.
So what are your dreams, my readers? I actually have a post about the subject of our dreams, waiting to be finished, that will precipitate further discussion. But what are the passions that God has planted in you? I know some of you out there are writers; what else have we got?
I'm beginning to get a little bit frustrated in the writing classes (Advanced Comp and Nonfiction Writing), simply because I don't have the time that I would prefer to spend on the various papers and assignments in those classes. There are a lot of projects going in both, and while I'm not visibly behind yet, I feel like I'm accumulating a wealth of academic debt that I'll have to pay at some point this semester.
But, just have to take things as they come and use spare time to catch up. It's not like life is going to slow down any time soon. And that's okay, because when I have a lot of free time and nothing that really needs doing, I become pretty unproductive, pretty quickly. Busyness isn't always fun, but it just feels right when you're caught up in the midst of it.
The excitement of "the current project" is likely here to stay in one form or another, as well. What I mean by that is that when Hunted finally comes to a close, I'm going to start feeling this massive void due to not having something major like that pressing down on me. So I'm sure I'll start some project or other after that, whether it be a (short) film or a play, or even a book.
It would be so wonderful to get a book written; Lana and I long ago (back in the "just friends" stage, that is) each set the goal of finishing a book before graduation. Of course, I know it's ludicrous to think about starting one right now, with school blazing and Hunted calling; and it may still be ludicrous even after Hunted is in the can (I mean that in the sense of "finished", not in the sense of "kaput"). But it's a dream nonetheless, and at some point you have to start working to make the dream become reality.
What kind of book? Well, a novel, naturally. Fictional storytelling has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I appreciate my Nonfiction Writing course and its emphasis on telling a good story that's true, but I'm frankly more interested in telling fictional stories that are "truthful". Whether that story takes the form of a book, a play, or a movie.
So yeah, we'll see. If I start writing a book, of course I'll let you know -- in time, once I have something substantial, at any rate. I know I'm not ready to write one yet, but as the love of my life pointed out, maybe I need to begin the work before I can truly be ready. Time will tell, and God will reveal.
So what are your dreams, my readers? I actually have a post about the subject of our dreams, waiting to be finished, that will precipitate further discussion. But what are the passions that God has planted in you? I know some of you out there are writers; what else have we got?
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Another short one
Not time to chat again, I'm afraid. Sad how that works. I am, however, working on another post that has me pretty excited, but that one must await completion.
Today another good day. Lana and I once again experienced God's lavishing of love on us, and grew closer together. I don't know how God does it, but I praise Him for it.
School just may be getting extremely crazy; I'm not sure. At any rate, I've got a variety of things to work on for different classes, and hopefully I'll be able to get a lion's share knocked out this evening. School rocks my face off -- though I don't particularly enjoy it. Any of you guys identify with that paradox?
For now, well, thank God for life, love, and the pursuit of happiness that can only be found in Him. You are worthy, my Lord and God, of everything I have. Praise You. To my beloved Lana, thank you for talking to me today and letting God use you; I love you and could not stop thanking Him for you even if I wanted to. You truly are my sunshine.
Today another good day. Lana and I once again experienced God's lavishing of love on us, and grew closer together. I don't know how God does it, but I praise Him for it.
School just may be getting extremely crazy; I'm not sure. At any rate, I've got a variety of things to work on for different classes, and hopefully I'll be able to get a lion's share knocked out this evening. School rocks my face off -- though I don't particularly enjoy it. Any of you guys identify with that paradox?
For now, well, thank God for life, love, and the pursuit of happiness that can only be found in Him. You are worthy, my Lord and God, of everything I have. Praise You. To my beloved Lana, thank you for talking to me today and letting God use you; I love you and could not stop thanking Him for you even if I wanted to. You truly are my sunshine.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Unlabor Day is over
Life rolls onward. Back to school today after Labor Day weekend. I got to be with Lana, but otherwise it was fairly blah. My writing instructor, David Cooper, possesses an almost maddening personality. He is consistently pleasant with a soft, ready smile, but he never crosses the line into what I would call actually "being nice." He seems to think that our reason for being on earth is to be with family and to travel, so he encourages us to share about our experiences in those areas; but although he's encouraging, he never seems to be truly interested in us. I think he's a pretty good teacher, but his blandness gets to me every now and then.
Sitting here at work now; will shortly go and proofread CtB with my lovely co-editor. I think it's, well, another good issue; there's quite a bit about romance, but I don't think you can blame us for that. I am excited about finally being able to unleash the "Warrior of the Dawn" short story on the world.
Just as a heads-up to all of you: It may interest you (it will doubtless interest those from FBC Branch who read the blog) to know that I am scheduled to preach at my church Sunday night. It's been a long time since I've had the opportunity. Please pray for me as I prepare this week, because I already seem to be running short of time; and pray for the message. Right now God seems to be pointing me toward a hard-hitting turn-and-repent sermon, centered around the book of Malachi and other passages (go check out Malachi if you're unfamiliar with it; it's definitely hard-hitting). But He could very well change it in the course of this week; it's happened before, so pray that I will seek His will and be obedient to whatever He calls me to preach.
Set to film again on Saturday for the first time in three weeks. It'll be our most intensive shooting day yet, Lord willing, all taking place up at my grandparents' and involving all of our major actors. Please pray for that as well, that everyone's schedules will work out, that we'll work quickly and efficiently, and that we'll do a good job and glorify God.
And, well, that's it for now; I have some other stuff to work on. But finally, I would like you readers to respond in the comment section about something I'm curious to know: What did God do in your life through Fan the Flame? What is He (hopefully) still doing? I'm really interested to see what kind of impact (if any) it made on your life, however small, so please let me know. Thank you readers, just, well, for being readers, and for commenting! God bless.
Sitting here at work now; will shortly go and proofread CtB with my lovely co-editor. I think it's, well, another good issue; there's quite a bit about romance, but I don't think you can blame us for that. I am excited about finally being able to unleash the "Warrior of the Dawn" short story on the world.
Just as a heads-up to all of you: It may interest you (it will doubtless interest those from FBC Branch who read the blog) to know that I am scheduled to preach at my church Sunday night. It's been a long time since I've had the opportunity. Please pray for me as I prepare this week, because I already seem to be running short of time; and pray for the message. Right now God seems to be pointing me toward a hard-hitting turn-and-repent sermon, centered around the book of Malachi and other passages (go check out Malachi if you're unfamiliar with it; it's definitely hard-hitting). But He could very well change it in the course of this week; it's happened before, so pray that I will seek His will and be obedient to whatever He calls me to preach.
Set to film again on Saturday for the first time in three weeks. It'll be our most intensive shooting day yet, Lord willing, all taking place up at my grandparents' and involving all of our major actors. Please pray for that as well, that everyone's schedules will work out, that we'll work quickly and efficiently, and that we'll do a good job and glorify God.
And, well, that's it for now; I have some other stuff to work on. But finally, I would like you readers to respond in the comment section about something I'm curious to know: What did God do in your life through Fan the Flame? What is He (hopefully) still doing? I'm really interested to see what kind of impact (if any) it made on your life, however small, so please let me know. Thank you readers, just, well, for being readers, and for commenting! God bless.
Monday, August 20, 2007
The work of God continues...
The weekend was absolutely insane. We're filming. We're not filming. We're filming. We're taking too long in filming. We're not filming this or that. We are filming this after all. It's raining (meaning we're not filming).
End result, we accomplished everything we hoped to get on Friday, and a small portion of what we hoped to get on Saturday. Along the way, God reminded me yet again who's in charge by bringing me to my knees.
You'd think that would have happened on Saturday, where we were unable to film most of what we had planned. But it was actually on Friday night. We were filming a scene with Eric and Leslie walking on the side of the road, and we couldn't figure out how to get it. It's always tough to do scenes where people are walking and talking for a sustained amount of time. That alone wouldn't bother me much, but Lana had been feeling very sick all day. Plus, she had a forty-minute drive home once we got done, which meant that it being a Friday night, we needed to get done and let her leave as soon as possible.
We tried one thing and another, and I began to get very frustrated. But Lana, the one who was being affected the most by all this, kept her calm and told me to slow down, calm down, and do it right. Thank God for her.
Once again, God was removing another layer of my pride. And even though I was thankful for that, I didn't like it. After all, the Word tells us to humble ourselves in the sight of the Lord. If He has to do it for us, we're not obeying Him like we should.
God molded me a little bit more on Friday night. It's crazy how much He's been doing in me over the summer, working to get rid of more and more of my pride. I'm learning so much about Him and about myself. A lot of it is stuff that I've known in my head for a long time, but I never realized the full impact of the meaning.
As Fan the Flame continues to get closer, God continues to prepare my heart. But I know absolutely that Satan is right there as well, doing his best to interfere in any way possible. He's not a gentleman; he plays dirty and will do whatever it takes to throw me off the path. I have definitely experienced more spiritual attack coming up on this year's FtF than for any of the previous ones, and that encourages me because I know God has something special planned.
School started today, and it's going to be interesting. Classes are so different from one another. The respective demeanors of my Intro to Theater professor and my Reasoning Across the Disciplines professor could not be more different. I had those classes today and have two writing classes and a history class tomorrow. In a way it's like, argh, school is here, blah. But it's also exciting simply because I know God has a great plan for my school year. I get to spend a lot of time alone with Him while I'm driving back and forth, and I get to take four out of my five classes with Lana, my best friend. Plus, who knows, maybe I'll actually learn something fun and/or beneficial, huh?
Go God, and readers, do three things for FtF. One, pray. Two, make sure you can come on Saturday. Three, invite as many people to come as you can. As you pray, continue to pray for rain; we got some this weekend, but not enough to lift Franklin County's burn ban. This means that unless we get more, the bonfire service is still going to be off. So please pray about that. Let the fire fall.
End result, we accomplished everything we hoped to get on Friday, and a small portion of what we hoped to get on Saturday. Along the way, God reminded me yet again who's in charge by bringing me to my knees.
You'd think that would have happened on Saturday, where we were unable to film most of what we had planned. But it was actually on Friday night. We were filming a scene with Eric and Leslie walking on the side of the road, and we couldn't figure out how to get it. It's always tough to do scenes where people are walking and talking for a sustained amount of time. That alone wouldn't bother me much, but Lana had been feeling very sick all day. Plus, she had a forty-minute drive home once we got done, which meant that it being a Friday night, we needed to get done and let her leave as soon as possible.
We tried one thing and another, and I began to get very frustrated. But Lana, the one who was being affected the most by all this, kept her calm and told me to slow down, calm down, and do it right. Thank God for her.
Once again, God was removing another layer of my pride. And even though I was thankful for that, I didn't like it. After all, the Word tells us to humble ourselves in the sight of the Lord. If He has to do it for us, we're not obeying Him like we should.
God molded me a little bit more on Friday night. It's crazy how much He's been doing in me over the summer, working to get rid of more and more of my pride. I'm learning so much about Him and about myself. A lot of it is stuff that I've known in my head for a long time, but I never realized the full impact of the meaning.
As Fan the Flame continues to get closer, God continues to prepare my heart. But I know absolutely that Satan is right there as well, doing his best to interfere in any way possible. He's not a gentleman; he plays dirty and will do whatever it takes to throw me off the path. I have definitely experienced more spiritual attack coming up on this year's FtF than for any of the previous ones, and that encourages me because I know God has something special planned.
School started today, and it's going to be interesting. Classes are so different from one another. The respective demeanors of my Intro to Theater professor and my Reasoning Across the Disciplines professor could not be more different. I had those classes today and have two writing classes and a history class tomorrow. In a way it's like, argh, school is here, blah. But it's also exciting simply because I know God has a great plan for my school year. I get to spend a lot of time alone with Him while I'm driving back and forth, and I get to take four out of my five classes with Lana, my best friend. Plus, who knows, maybe I'll actually learn something fun and/or beneficial, huh?
Go God, and readers, do three things for FtF. One, pray. Two, make sure you can come on Saturday. Three, invite as many people to come as you can. As you pray, continue to pray for rain; we got some this weekend, but not enough to lift Franklin County's burn ban. This means that unless we get more, the bonfire service is still going to be off. So please pray about that. Let the fire fall.
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