أمش اللة

I'm pretty terrible at keeping up with this thing. Maybe if my blog had more direction, if I had a constant topic to bring information to I could write more. I don't think anyone reads this, and even if they did they've probably given up on me and my inconsistent habits. The lull of summer kept me removed from my computer, so coming back to write something is sort of like starting all over again. I should keep a real live journal again and bring some intimacy between me and my own thoughts back into my life. 

Holy Tuesday

On Holy Tuesday the Church calls to remembrance two parables, which are related to the Second Coming. The one is the parable of the Ten Virgins (Matthew 25:1-3); the other the parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30). These parables point to the inevitability of the Parousia and deal with such subjects as spiritual vigilance, stewardship, accountability and judgment.

From these parables we learn at least two basic things. First, Judgment Day will be like the situation in which the bridesmaids (or virgins) of the parable found themselves: some ready for it, some not ready. The time one decides for God is now and not at some undefined point in the future. If "time and tide waits for no man," certainly the Parousia is no exception. The tragedy of the closed door is that individuals close it, not God. The exclusion from the marriage feast, the kingdom, is of our own making. Second, we are reminded that watchfulness and readiness do not mean a wearisome, spiritless performance of formal and empty obligations. Most certainly it does not mean inactivity and slothfulness. Watchfulness signifies inner stability, soberness, tranquility and joy. It means spiritual alertness, attentiveness and vigilance. Watchfulness is the deep personal resolve to find and do the will of God, embrace every commandment and every virtue, and guard the intellect and heart from evil thoughts and actions. Watchfulness is the intense love of God.

Reading the last line makes me want to cry, as I think of how much of my lenten season has been done out of routine and obligation. I pray that this week my heart will become tender to the truth of holy week.

this is from the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America

Holy Monday

On Holy Monday we commemorate Joseph the Patriarch, the beloved son of Jacob. A major figure of the Old Testament, Joseph's story is told in the final section of the Book of Genesis (chs. 37-50). Because of his exceptional qualities and remarkable life, our patristic and liturgical tradition portrays Joseph as tipos Christou, i.e., as a prototype, prefigurement or image of Christ. The story of Joseph illustrates the mystery of God's providence, promise and redemption. Innocent, chaste and righteous, his life bears witness to the power of God's love and promise. The lesson to be learned from Joseph's life, as it bears upon the ultimate redemption wrought by the death and resurrection of Christ, is summed up in the words he addressed to his brothers who had previously betrayed him, “’Fear not ... As for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, to bring about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today. So do not fear; I will provide for you and your little ones.’ Thus he reassured them and comforted them” (Genesis 50:19-21). The commemoration of the noble, blessed and saintly Joseph reminds us that in the great events of the Old Testament, the Church recognizes the realities of the New Testament.

Also, on Great and Holy Monday the Church commemorates the event of the cursing of the fig tree (Matthew 21:18-20). In the Gospel narrative this event is said to have occurred on the morrow of Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem (Matthew 21:18 and Mark 11:12). For this reason it found its way into the liturgy of Great Monday. The episode is also quite relevant to Great Week. Together with the event of the cleansing of the Temple this episode is another manifestation of Jesus' divine power and authority and a revelation as well of God's judgment upon the faithlessness of the Jewish religious classes. The fig tree is symbolic of Israel become barren by her failure to recognize and receive Christ and His teachings. The cursing of the fig tree is a parable in action, a symbolic gesture. Its meaning should not be lost on any one in any generation. Christ's judgment on the faithless, unbelieving, unrepentant and unloving will be certain and decisive on the Last Day. This episode makes it clear that nominal Christianity is not only inadequate, it is also despicable and unworthy of God's kingdom. Genuine Christian faith is dynamic and fruitful. It permeates one's whole being and causes a change. Living, true and unadulterated faith makes the Christian conscious of the fact that he is already a citizen of heaven. Therefore, his way of thinking, feeling, acting and being must reflect this reality. Those who belong to Christ ought to live and walk in the Spirit; and the Spirit will bear fruit in them: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Galatians 5:22-25).

My bathroom shower got clogged the other night, and I've since been venturing upstairs to share a bathroom with my parents. It was similar to packing for a spend the night as I gathered all my toiletries needed for a proper shower. After moving my mom's bathing suit, the wet towels, and other things familiar to a much used bathroom I took my shower with much prodding from my relatives to hurry up and not to use all the hot water. The most enjoyable part was that I forgot my own razor and used my dad's 5 blade wonder razor! That was the smoothest my legs have felt in a long time! Who knew they made men's razors so much nicer than women's!  I quickly ran downstairs with my clothes in hand leaving my toiletries upstairs. This morning I awoke and remembered that those materials used in my daily routine were to be out of order again in the upstairs bathroom. I laid under the covers comfortably, procrastinating the trip upstairs. I thought about how much nicer it would have been to wash my face downstairs in my own bathroom than to break my habit and go upstairs. When I finally got up I thought "I'm going to buy 2 of everything I use in the bathroom and keep one in my bathroom and the others will always stay in the upstairs bathroom... that way whichever part of the house I'm in, I'll go to the nearest bathroom and won't have to worry about hauling things back and forth." 

I saw joseph arthur in concert once. It was a strange and awesome experience. I was sitting at one of the closest tables at the bar just outside of downtown nashville. Throughout the show he brought several people on stage to sing, hoola hoop, paint and so on. It was probably the most intimate concert I've ever been to. I was just thinking about his song black lexus, and looked for it on youtube. 

10 year olds are often pudgy, they're "saving up for the growth spurt" as my mother told me. The 4th grade stage is so unique; walking towards new ideas and freedom with their childhood wonderment still in hand... Minds are growing beyond their bodies.... Each day shedding layers of baby skin and rapidly change into a new being.
I've been observing in a 4th grade class for one of my field placements. Much of my time there has been uneventful, and boring as I pretend to write notes about the  environment... but every now and then a little chubster dawdles past and I remember being in that place.

 A girl named Mckendra sat in front of me on Friday, and I couldn't help but notice her position.  She had a pair of jeans that were too big shoved into black leather boots, and a long john shirt beneath her baggy school t-shirt. 

She was pudgy and beautiful, with round freckled cheeks hiding behind square glasses. I loved looking at her.
I think educators are burdened by swelling class sizes and heavily weighted standardized tests. It seems that many are quickly frazzled by their educating of the masses and statewide standards. Students quickly become their abilities, disabilities, and test scores, and educating to the individual's personal needs often seems idealistic. I hope I learn to savor this time in their lives... as they peek and crawl out of their shells towards all sorts of transformation. 

I stared at the back of Mkendra's pig tails and wondered how her hair would look next year, if she would have grown into her jeans. I wondered what ideas and beliefs were being stored up for the growth spurt ahead; I was really thankful to know her for this time. It is a great thing to witness a person's conversion, which is what makes childhood so special. I tried to sketch her figure as quickly as I could, but the task was difficult.... as her position inevitably changed.

Drawing

I have a friend who recently showed me one of his favorite Graffiti artists. I was blown away by this man's artistic ability. Much of his art is a bit loud and political... still I am captivated by many of his images.

RainGirlzzz1

Wet-Dog-5

Ratgirlzzz1

This morning I noticed the keyboard in my room... a really beautiful, full length keyboard, with weighted keys. My grandmother bought it for me a couple of years ago when I expressed an interest in learning to play. The lessons I took were from a friend, and the relaxed setting allowed me a not so serious mind set. I eventually quit taking piano lessons, and my lack of self discipline has not made me better at piano than when I started. I looked at the instrument this morning with some cards and papers scattered across the keys and a pile of clothes on the seat with dissapointment. In a hopeful and ambitious mindset I have kept the keyboard in my room thinking I would become serious about it. What a dis-service I'm doing to music and musicians alike... to use it more as a book shelf than an instrument. I've been thinking I should either become serious about playing it, or give it away. Anything else seems selfish and unfair.
I do this with other things too. I buy fabric often with the hopes that I'll make something really great later; its future is often lived out in the box of crafts I have in the garage. Its as if I always need an option. I don't want it to be taken away, the possibility of a creative genius. I hoard things like this pretty often.
 My mom asked if a family friend could borrow a book of mine recently, (a book I haven't touched in over a year) I begrudgingly said yes with thoughts of how I might like to read it again soon, wondering if the friend would return it. I do not have time to read it again, and am ashamed of my own ridiculousness.
Oh me of little faith. That's what it boils down to. If I truly believe that Jesus is the redeemer of mankind, the healer of my soul, then I must loosen the grip of possessions and know that Christ is the only thing I can't stand to loose.

 Instead of hitting the snooze button at least 5 times before getting up, and then scrambling to make it to Church (which is only 6 minutes away)... Yesterdays morning was a little more planned and thought out, as I prepared to Go to Holy Apostles Orthodox Mission in Bowling Green. I tried to let the morning drive be peaceful as it should be; not allowing myself to become frazzled by that worry-some feeling of getting lost.
My destination was comfortably situated next to a hardware store and a tattoo parlor, and I had to smile when I saw it. I walked inside to the sweet smell of incense, and began to partake in the Liturgy (In Greek Liturgy means "the work of the people".)
I felt a certain guilt and almost shame as the service began... The choir was new and somewhat stiff, their voices not yet seasoned by years of Orthodox repetition. I do not enjoy singing in front of others, but this day I felt a pulling and insistence that I participate. The words I know by heart usually stay in my thoughts and not on my lips. It was nearly frightening to let my untrained voice break my own silence, and carry those familiar songs from my inner being to outward ears. The service was rigid and awkward at times; Altar boys having to back up in the procession, the priest having to tell the choir what to sing. It was work. REAL work.
I was refreshed by their humility and inspired by their willingness. It was a heartfelt and beautiful service: nearly EVERYONE was participating. Not just participating, but really working their hearts out to preform the Liturgy. I think its human nature not to take responsibility until push comes to shove. I have allowed my singing voice to be mostly silent over 16 years of being orthodox... that is until I was "shoved" into a mission church that needed my own shaky song to aide in the "work of the people".