Click on the baby horsey for a moment and let us contemplate the existence of such creatures.

Not the horsey--he's cute--the folks who would pay that much money for him. Pretty sickening, eh?














Update: The link no longer shows the price, but he was 209 dollars!!!

To be spiritually minded...

On Wednesday, I spent several hours facepainting a bunch of middle schoolers for a special AR celebration. "AR" is Accelerated Reader, a program in which students earn points for taking comprehension tests on books they have read; the celebration was for those who had met their grade-level point goal. I didn't get an exact count, but I know I painted around 40 kids at least. It was a fun time in spite of my soreness from sitting in a strange position all day and from the sunburn on my neck. I love being artistic and interacting with kids, so the day was right up my alley.

That evening at intercessory prayer, though, I realized what an opportunity I had missed. In those hours spent painting wolves and initials and soccer balls and ballet shoes, my hands touched dozens of little faces. In serving them, I believe I served Christ, but how much more could I have served Him if I truly were spiritually minded? If my first thought were the spiritual instead of the natural, I could have asked the Lord for words of knowledge, and without saying a word, prayed back to Him the things He was showing me. I could've asked Him for specific encouragement to give to each child who sat down in my chair.

Of course I interact with people all the time without feeling like I've missed something, but it was the fact of physically touching so many people in one day without really thinking about God and his purposes for them that really struck me later on. Is the anointing that breaks the yoke on me or isn't it? Does the power that raised Christ from the dead dwell in my mortal body or doesn't it? Though I can think of no sin I committed in my time facepainting, I definitely failed to seize the day.

Aren't there so many days like that? We haven't done anything wrong, but what have we done that's right? I'm not talking about being so heavenly minded we're no earthly good--we have to live here in these physical bodies and do the day-to-day mess that constitutes a life--but I am talking about an intentionally spiritual mindset, a choice to think with the mind of Christ. I want to wake up with some divine initiative, a heart that says

Where's a need I can meet?
Let's pray about that right now!
Why don't we look and see what God's
word has to say about it?
You blessed me today!
What can I do to serve you?
I love you!

This is my Tres Dias/Vida Nueva/New Attitude heart, but I want it to be my default attitude, my automatic response, my repent-quickly-and-get-it-back mindset. "For to be carnally minded is death," Romans 8:6 tells us, "but to be spiritually minded is life and peace." I want to stay there.

Another poem from my thesis that will never be published

Again, not good enough, but definitely an insight into my soul.

Magic

My mom thinks Harry Potter’s probably wickedness,
but this is progress. When I was five, Rapunzel
got a haircut, became Lydia, New Testament
seller of purple, sponsor of apostles. Every
frog and owl was tossed away. Demons.

No He-Man, as God alone
was Master of the Universe.
Only Aslan had the kind of power
we could celebrate, wild as Jesus, and each summer
we read his endorsed enchantment together
in my parents’ king-sized bed.

Now when my aunt hears Bible babbling
from my brother’s lips, from mine,
she chides, expounds the magic of change,
warns us not to be so sure of anything
in our twenties. She remembers when pants and
bacon came from the Devil, when the TV
hid shame-faced in the closet, when exorcism
was en vogue. She fears we might be under the spell
that made her sister a troll, hoarding the jewels of
revelation with Mine! Mine! Mine!

She must not see the wands
behind our backs. We’ve turned that troll
into a jolly Mother Goose, and she’ll be a princess
yet, well-versed like us in the magic of change,
of granite turned to soft, pink flesh.

Spring Broke...

is how I'm usually feeling at the end of spring break. Usually I've spent most of my time sleeping, eating, and wasting time on the Internet, and by the last day, I'm regretful of my choices and anxious to get back into the routine, if only to save me from myself.

This break was different. I visited the wonderful old Southern city of Charleston (to which I'd never been), crammed my head full of history, walked all over the place, took in the sights, enjoyed time with family, finished a book and started on another one, and graded all but one set of papers. It was a wonderful break!

A few pics from our time in Charles Towne (I took very few, as I had forgotten to empty my SDcard before I went and didn't have my USB cable with me):



at The College of Charleston, which I heard one local refer to in passing as "The College" (in a lovely Charleston accent)


















Daddy at the grave of "Our Beloved Pastor" in one of the fascinating old cemeteries


























at the Battery















the amazing Angel Entwife (I mean Angel Oak)

It's official.

Yes, it's true--152insightsintomysoul.blogspot.com is a cobweb site. It appears I cannot have a life and a teaching job at the same time. Maybe one day I'll be able to manage the twain, but that is not this day.

Gum, she wrote...

We could handle the small crowd of ADDCP5. We smiled at the torrential downpour that killed my beautiful candlelit walkway plan--after all, the state of Georgia's in a drought, and how nice of the rain to come on Daniel Dean's birthday! But nothing could prepare us for the horror that awaited on December 16th, when while folding one of our card tables we discovered FRESH GUM stuck to the bottom of one of them, in the very same Sweet Mint Orbit flavor that almost every person around the four card tables had taken a piece of the night before. But which one of our friends could be the culprit? Could it be Kevin, the former baseball player--those guys are known for spitting sunflower seeds, tobacco, gum ... How about Kim, the gum provider? Was she tired of the gum, giving away each piece to strangers and her own to the bottom of the table? What about Daniel Williams? Could his princeliness be forever tarnished with a single heinous act?

A quick look at the location of the offending table narrowed the choices to three individuals:

Paul, recent Tech grad, usually a class act.
Steve, doctoral candidate in linguistics, known germophobe.
Megan, college student, helpful party assistant.

Excluding Steve seems a no-brainer, but there's where the mystery comes in. Jessica always surprised us back in the day, didn't she? What do you think, folks?

Tired of looking at the same old thing...

I don't have anything to say, but I'm tired of the party invite being at the top of the page. It went well, though the turnout was pretty sad due to inclement weather. We finally got rain, though, so I'm glad, even if my beautiful candlelit entry was spoiled. About halfway into the lighting process, Mom and I gave up--they kept getting rained out :(.

Thanks to all who came, especially to those who gave PIT Extreme a try. It was wonderful to see everybody.