Looking Back and Looking Forward

Six years ago, on this exact day, we posted our very first post to "One Bright Corner." Since then, it's been an unforgettable experience. Through blogging, we've made friends with ladies we still keep in touch with to this day (we love you Keilah and Charae!), and we've gotten to know in-real-life friends all the better (we love you Elanee and Ruthie!). We got to ride the wild ride of being named Blogger's Blog of Note and have had the privilege of having many thoughtful people contribute to "One Bright Corner" in the form of guest posts.

We started our very first post only a year out of high school with so many events unexperienced, so many lessons unlearned, so many plans for the future, and so much love for writing. We've now completed 500 posts and find ourselves six years older with many experiences, lessons, and plans fulfilled. Yet life keeps rolling, the learning keeps happening, and our love for writing never wanes! We're so grateful for you, our dear readers, for supporting us, reading what we put up here (the good, the bad, and the ugly!), commenting, following, and sharing. Your encouragement is such a treasure.

Nine inches of snow and a week of temperatures in the single digits and teens have left Maryland a very frigid place (at least in comparison to the verdant, spring-like Washington State!). But good things do come of such weather: meet Hugo, the gentleman snowman. Isn't he cool? (Pun intended.)

Baby and I are now 17 weeks into the pregnancy and doing very well! Here, at his 14-week ultrasound, you can see him waving to his Mama and Papa, which of course prompted tears of joy, love, and awe. Is this truly our baby, already so perfectly formed yet so tiny, whom we'll get to hold in 23 weeks? Can he really begin to hear us now, with his fully developed ears, as the doctors tell us he can? What should we name him? Is that his tiny foot I feel, or merely lunch digesting? How can I love a little being so much, when I have yet to meet him or even know his name?

Becoming a parent is an incredible experience!

Because Quotes Are Like a Lay's Potato Chip...

...you get not just one, and not just ten, but thirteen of my favorite quotes.  These are mile-markers of my last year: some marking times of tears, some stubborn sin, some silliness, and some the most profound truth that I've yet known.

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{If it were possible for C.S. Lewis to be over-quoted, I could be accused of such an infraction.  But since he can never be over-quoted, I will merely hope you enjoy him as much as I do!}

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When I read this last quote, I picture Corrie Ten Boom remembering being huddled in her Nazi concentration camp cell, awaiting her own death.  I picture her saying this because of that remembrance, and I am humbled.  

What quotes have changed your perspective?

Behind the Scenes of My Last Blog Post!

Photo Credit

 

Tuesday mornings mean two things for me: prepping for a full day of teaching music lessons and publishing a blog post.  And two weeks ago, my Tuesday morning was a tangled one indeed.

 

As I was doing the preparing part, I was also doing the praying part, about what God would have me publish that day.  I had several ideas to which I was quite partial, but God suddenly prompted me: Why not post on pride?  I thought of several reasons why not to write an article on pride, but since most of them were based in pride, they fell somewhat short.  So the topic was decided (how turning my God-given light on myself in pride leaves the world in darkness: read the post here!), and I just had to find the time to write it! 

 

This particular teaching day, I had several cancellations which left me with a free morning.  There was the time to write my article, but where could I write it?

 

You see, Mikaela and I use a local church to teach our lessons on Tuesdays, so even though I didn’t have lessons to teach, I was still stuck at the church with no internet with which to publish a post.  As I began to think through the problem, I remembered that furthermore, the church had no three-prong plug-ins to even plug in my laptop cord, and our local library to which I normally would have resorted didn’t open for another hour. 

 

These all seemed like tiny hairs of an everyday tangle, but unbeknownst to me, none of them were actually a tangle: they were part of an intricately tatted thread of lace that God was weaving for my day. 



Melanie sitting in the same tea shop I was enjoying. Photo Credit

I was left with no choice but to go to my favorite tea shop, order a steaming hot Lavender Milk Tea with Mango Popping Boba (delicious!), and settle down with my laptop and Bible to write the post God had laid on my heart for the day.  That was my mission.  And yet, even as I was typing away about being a light in a dark world, I couldn’t have guessed that God was preparing another mission for me. 

 

She was a sweet looking older woman who approached me, and I instantly realized had observed her earlier, chatting with two older men in suits. 

 

“I couldn’t help but notice,” she said with a smile as she came up to me.  “But is that a Bible on your lap?”

 

“Yes!” I replied, wonderingly. 

 

“That is the tiniest Bible I have ever seen!”  She exclaimed.  “How do you read out of that?”

 

“Well, it’s my travel Bible,” I explained, and we exchanged a few other pleasantries before she handed me a tract and began talking.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that we were not on the same page and that, in fact, she was a Jehovah’s Witness.  (You can read about another witnessing encounter with a Jehovah’s Witness here.)

 

Finally, she asked me point-blank, “What are you?”

 

The ultimate question, loaded with existential preconceptions.  I gulped a quick prayer before diving in. 

 

“I’m a Christian,” I said, and wasted no time in getting to the “good” stuff.  “I believe that Jesus is the only Son of God, and that He died and rose again to save me from my sins.”

 

She was nodding in agreement with me.  “Oh, yes, and you have it so right that Jesus is the Son of God, because so many people get that wrong!” 

 

I knew she was misunderstanding, although I wasn’t yet quite sure what she was misunderstanding, so I tried a different tack.  “Yes, but I believe in the Trinity, that Jesus is One with God the Father and God the Holy Spirit.” 

 

Suddenly, she didn’t quite agree with me anymore, and a new door opened in our conversation as she said, “But you can’t find that in the Bible!” 

 

“No,” I agreed, “That word ‘Trinity’ isn’t in the Bible, but the Bible clearly teaches that God is three in one.”  At this point, my heart pounding with adrenaline, I scraped through my brain to try to remember a verse, any verse, that could help communicate this truth to this lady.  And you know what?  Thinking back, I can’t even remember which verse I took her to at that moment!

 

I do know that the passage I found after thumbing through my Bible, was not “The Perfect Verse for Empirically Proving the Truth of the Trinity.”

 

I know that the words I used did not follow the “Three Step Plan for Converting a Woman in a Tea Shop.” 

 

I know that the conversation that followed was not “The Benchmark Conversation You all Should Replicate with a Jehovah’s Witness.” 

 

But I do know that the Holy Spirit she was discounting as a “force” lives inside me and was guiding me, comforting me, helping me. 

 

I know that for about ten minutes I was able to discuss Jesus with a woman who used His name but missed the entire person of Jesus Christ our Lord! 

 

I was able to share with her from John 1:1-3

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.  All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.”

To a woman who says that God the Father created the world, but Jesus did not, I imagine that verse was worldview-shaking. 

 

I also turned to one of my favorite chapters, John 17, and although the conversation took a different tangent before I could get to these verses, they would have been perfect to share as well:

“That [the believers] all may be one, as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You; that they also may be one in Us, that the world may believe that You sent Me. And the glory which You gave Me I have given them, that they may be one just as We are one.” {John 17:21-22}

As she prepared to leave, I told her I wanted to leave her with this thought, which I know the Holy Spirit impressed on my heart: “If you do not believe that Jesus Christ is one with God, and that while on earth He was fully God yet fully man, then you can’t believe that His redemption on the cross for all mankind was enough.”

 

“But it was enough!”  she insisted.

 

“Yes,” I agreed.  “But you can’t believe that unless you believe that Jesus was one with God.” 

 

With that, she left.  As soon as she did, I wasted no time in googling “verses to share with a Jehovah’s Witness about the Trinity.” 

 

I found all the verses I should have shared.  I found this excellent website, with all the information I should have known. 

 

And I encourage you to study to show yourself approved, and to be prepared.  But I also encourage you to seize those precious missions that God entrusts to you at the moment they occur and do one thing, perfectly prepared or not: talk about Jesus. 

 

Jesus, after all, is the stumbling block for all other religions. 

Jesus, after all, is my first love! 

And Jesus, after all, is the reason we share, not to prove how intellectually brilliant our crippling arguments are.  Thank goodness! 

 

So there I sat, my lavender tea cooling on the table, my Bible opened to John, my cursor blinking in the middle of the last word I had typed in my article on being a light in a dark world. 



Photo Credit

 

And I prayed.  For a nameless woman who seemed so lost.  For my own failings in sharing. 

And I gave thanks.  For a free morning and for three-prong laptop cords and for a library that opened an hour too late.  It was in that giving thanks that I began to realize that perhaps the library opened right on time for God to turn these tangled hairs of my morning into a thread of lace that was beautiful beyond my wildest dreams. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo Credit: Photo 1: Jonathan Kos-Read

                       Photo 2: Raquel

                       Photo 3: Marlana
Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Staircase to the Clouds

 

Once upon a time, there lived a girl who dreamed of living in the clouds. She was but a poor peasant toiling away in the fields all the day long. In the summer, the hot sun would beat down upon her and scorch her neck and parch her lips. In the winter, the fierce winds and icy sleet would whip her slight body and inflict pain at the first--until the cold numbed her limbs to feeling. Rare were those perfect days--the cool, foggy mornings, when the ugliness was concealed and the beauty popped out like never before. The world seemed so peaceful on those mornings; she could only see a step ahead of her, and yet it calmed her to not see the sprawling acres of land waiting to be hoed.

And on Sundays--the one day of the week when she didn't have to work--she would lie on her back in the woodlands and stare up at the sky. It was such a delightful thought to think of somehow capturing that beautiful foggy cloudiness and living within its peaceful confines. It would be soft--so soft. It would afford an excellent view. It would be unusual and different and clean and comforting.

"Hello Miss!"

The girl jumped from her reverie to look up at a young man--the funniest she had ever seen. He was wearing a roughly woven green tunic that ended in a zig-zag hem. Underneath the tunic, his two long, skinny, bow-legged legs protruded, covered in purple britches that billowed and ended at his knees. His easy grin revealed a missing tooth; his face was sharp and skinny; and his eyes were a vivid green that sparkled with life.

"Whatcha' dreamin' of?" He asked impishly.

For some reason, this girl trusted him, so she answered simply and without fear of being made fun of, "The clouds. I wish I could live in one."

"Have ye tried?" The man asked matter-of-fact.

"Oh!" The girl laughed. "How does one go about trying to live in a cloud?"

"On the day next, when the fog rolls in thick, it's the clouds comin' down to earth itself. On those days, you do live in a cloud!"

"Oh!" said the girl again, because she wasn't sure what to say. "But I want to live in a cloud in the sky--with no solid ground beneath my feet."

"Well that's a trick, now, ain't it!" The man exclaimed, not as if he didn't know the answer, but as if he wasn't sure he wanted to give it. He looked at her for a few minutes in a brown study before saying anything else. "Come with me, then."

The girl wasn't sure if she was silly or smart, but she went with him. He led her far deeper into the woodlands than she had ever gone before. She lost sight, in fact, of the clouds--even of the sky and the sun. The woods had grown so dark, she felt as though it must be dusk, even though there was still several hours before the sun set. Finally, her practicality prevailed over her faith. "Sir! Where are you taking me?"

"To the staircase to the clouds, miss, to be sure! Where else did ye suppose?"

The girl was afraid to ask any more questions, so she kept following him, through bramble and brush, through creeks and over hills. Finally, he stopped at the biggest oak tree she had ever seen. It was bigger around than her outstretched arms could measure--it seemed nearly as big as her small hut! And its height knew no end, for it seemed to continue through the forest canopy until her eyes could no longer see any farther.

The man jumped into the first branch and began to climb with energy, so the girl followed him. Ever so soon, however, the man began to climb farther and faster than her.

"Please, sir! Don't leave me! I need you to show me the way!"

"Miss," he called down from his perch far above her, "I have shown ye the way! It's up to ye now."

She climbed and climbed, and soon after, lost sight of the strange man. Her muscles ached, and her chest heaved, but still she pressed on. The branches did not grow smaller and weaker as she went on--they remained just as sturdy as the bottom branches. And then, all in one moment, a still, white, beautiful fog surround her. She had reached the sky and found herself in a cloud.

She took a step off the tree and found that the cloud supported her. She jumped and found that the cloud caught her. She breathed and found the moist, cool air so refreshing. She laid down and found the cloud softer than the newest feather mattress. She tasted and found the cloud deliciously satisfying. And then, all of a sudden, she felt a wonderful warmth on her body. She crawled to the top of the cloud and peeked out, and was met by the sun. Its beautiful rays warmed and invigorated her.

"Hello, sun!" she said. "It's so nice to see you." And she laughed to think about how much she had hated the sun. It was so beautiful from her cloud, as was nearly everything. Our girl lived in that cloud for the rest of her life--though to be sure, she came down to solid ground every day to work and perform her duties. But it was in discovering the joys of cloud-dwelling that she came to appreciate the beauty of everything else too. From her cloud, she no longer minded the sun, the rain, the snow, or the wind. Her view had changed, and in it, everything else seemed to have changed as well.

#1 Photo Credit: PhotoAtelier
#2 Photo Credit: Vivek

High School...Then What?

Photo Credit

Six months before I graduated from high school, when I had no plan, I felt as though I were racing at Eric Liddell speed for a giant ravine.  When the day came, I’d hold my breath, take a leap, and hope I made it across! 

 

Yesterday afternoon, five years later, I opened up an old hunter green composition book in which I printed in blue ink, “Life after High School.”  I still remember brainstorming the list, trying to think of every possible avenue to which the Lord might want me to give a wedge of time after I graduated.  Reading over it, I see a lot of opportunies I have completed, a lot of choices I still need to make, and a lot of options the Lord has recently brought that I never dreamed of at the time I wrote the list. 

 

Before I give my (updated) list, a few caveats:

·                     There is no human way to accomplish all of this.  Don’t try to stuff the ravine of the unknown with filler as a way to bridge the gap.  If a few ideas stand out to you, pray about them and bring them to your parents before cramming everything in.

·                     There is one noticeable exception to this list: college.  But I decided that was the old stand-by that everyone would write, so at 18 I left it off.  I still like that logic. 

·                     Be creative.  Just because you desire to stay under your parents’ authority doesn’t mean your list or life will look like mine!  This is just a compilation of a few ideas to get you started and productive. 

 

The List

1.      Memorize the Bible. (1 John, Psalm 119, etc.)

2.      Read at least one nonfiction book a month and write a report.

3.      Bake bread.

4.      Write a book.

5.      Help siblings with school.

6.      Advance in music.

7.      Teach music.

8.      Grow in character. 

9.      Be a servant.

10.  Help other mothers and learn from them.

11.  Put budgeting, buying, and making food into practice.

12.  Garden.

13.  Learn about car maintenance.

14.  Study and delineate Biblical guidelines on marriage, childrearing, and other relevant topics.

15.  Be a helper to my father.  Be a helper to my mother in practice to be a homemaker.

16.  Spend more time in prayer.

17.  Visit nursing homes.

18.  Be ready to defend my faith.

19.  Review First Aid.

20.  Study and apply So Much More.

21.  Write music.

22.  Sew

23.  Work on relationships with my siblings.

24.  Exercise.

25.  Develop other spiritual gift qualities.

26.  Work with a local homeschooling ministry.

27.  Blog!

28.  Look for ways to minister to other girls.

29.  Learn about natural health.

30.  Seek a mentor in an older woman.

 

Morsels to Digest

As a girl wanting to buck the world's status quo, don't get caught up in using your time, but do redeem it.

Don't find fulfillment in filling your schedule, but do be filled with the Holy Spirit and God's mission for you.

Don't measure your worth by your activity, but do judge your diligence by your habits.

It is a constant prayer of mine to be a productive, fruit-bearing woman of God, and I will be praying that for each one of you, no matter what season of life you are in!

What do you have to add to The List? 

 

“worldwide directions" © 2006 Andrea DM. Used under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/.

Storytelling

Stories have been in my blood since I first heard about that little piggy who trotted off to the market.  As soon as I learned that those curious curlicues on the page formed sounds which somehow formed pictures in my mind and stories in my head, I was a reading addict for life.  In fact, I was that child who would disappear into my book, only to find myself (and rightly so) in hot water a few hours later for ignoring my math, chores, or some such down-to-earth responsibility.    

There was hardly a gap between my figuring out that if those curious curlicues on the page told stories, and I could master those curious curlicues, then I too could tell stories.  From that moment on, storytelling has been in my blood as well.  From the age of five, I have always had a story “in the works.” 

 

I hawked my stories to my aunt.  I entered them in contests.  I came home from the library with a chin-high stack of books on Scotland, because my next novel was set therein.  I scoured name books for hours, searching for just the right name for my protaganist.  And guess what?  I still have stories “in the works.”  I still love every bit of fashioning a world in which the only boundaries are the breadth of my creativity and the size of my hard drive.

 

In the world of storytelling, I am always drawn to the compelling, tear-jerking, life-changing sorts of stories, and again and again I find myself coming out with a bitter taste in my mouth and defeated hopes after reading a pathetic attempt by a modern author at just that sort of story.  But I return again and again to the love story of Hosea and Gomer—it is the most beautiful one I have ever read.  The story of Israel and her God is one of the most heartbreaking.  And the story of David and Jonathan warms my heart with a friendship the likes of which most people have never known. 

 

Those stories are a writer’s deepest well from which to dip inspiration: God is a Master Storyteller, and because of Him we love stories and love sharing meaningful ones.  It truly is in our blood.  In fact, we each are in the middle of our own epic stories, and if you are a Christian, the Author has whispered in your ear, “It’s all right—it ends happily.”  With relief, you can make it through the tragedy that intervenes because your story ends happily ever after in the truest and most complete sense of the cliché. 

Any story has a villian, however, and so does storytelling.  It has been grossly perverted by Satan, for he knows that a good story can change a life.  Stories now are lowered to the level of pure entertainment, thrill rides for the reader and money in the bank for the author.  But God didn’t give us the story-telling gene so we could be amused.  He gave it to us so He could communicate the greatest story of all to our hearts and so we could pass the story on. 

 

So what would happen if in your story-telling, you told only the stories that were worthy of being told?  In your reading, if you read only the stories that were worthy of being read?  And in your living, if you lived only the story the Author wanted you to live?  I know what would happen: those compelling, tear-jerking, life-changing stories would begin to emerge in ways you never imagined. 

Photo Credit: Reading in Public