Special Post: A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings

I chose to write about A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings for this blog entry. This is a very odd story, but quite interesting at the same time. As we discussed in class, some stories don’t always have a single theme or moral; this story definitely fits that category. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the author of A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings, has my respect and adoration for the talent put into this story.
A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings begins with Pelayo, one of the main characters, sweeping up crabs outside of his house on a very rainy day. While doing this, he finds a very old and dirty man lying stuck in the mud. This man has enormous wings and speaks an unfamiliar language. After Paleyo talks to his neighbor, he and his wife, Elisenda, put the old man in their chicken coop. The only rational conclusion they can come up with as to why that “angel” landed in their yard was to come and retrieve their very sick son, who soon after gets better.

A crowd soon gathers to come and see the old man. The couple decides to charge the crowds to see the old man, and they make a ton of money very quickly. The local bishop says the old man couldn’t possibly be an angel because he is filthy and doesn’t speak Latin. However, the local doctor says the wings are attached so perfectly that he doesn’t see why all humans have wings. However, the attention is quickly diverged from the old man to a spider woman, once the crowd was attracted to her popular sad tale.

With all the money Paleyo and Elisenda have earned from charging the crowds, they build a bigger house to keep the crabs away, but keep the old man in the same dirty old chicken coop. Sooner or later, their son begins to interact with the old man, but he doesn’t react any differently to him than he did with the crowds. Eventually, the chicken coop crumbles and the old man stays in the shed, moving around more, sometimes in the house. This annoyed Elisenda, but not for long. After some time, the old man’s feathers begin to grow back and he regains some strength. One day he stumbles but manages to fly off into the horizon; relieved, Elisenda watches him until she can’t see him anymore. Finally, the thorn in her foot is gone.

Now reading through this story the first time around, you may think “Ok, this is just a weird story that doesn’t have an obvious theme.” Believe it or not, you’re right. This is a weird story. And the theme to the story is not very obvious. Reading through the story again, I realized there could be many morals interpreted from this story.

The meaning that I got out of this story is probably best displayed in one scene of the piece. That would be when the crowd’s attention was distracted from the old man because of a spider woman with a sad story. Before, people were bringing their odd ailments to the old man in hopes that they could be healed. They wanted to benefit from this “angel” and use him for what he was worth. However, when the spider woman came along and presented her touching story, the crowd was moved with emotion and drew their attention to her instead. How many times do we use people only for what we can get out of them?

That is the question that came to mind as I read this story. The old man was a nuisance to Elisenda and Paleyo until they realized they could make money off of him. The crowd was so impressed by him until their attention was attracted somewhere else. I am guilty of this same crime. I will form a friendship with someone because I see what I can get from them. I’ll be nice to a coworker only to get their help in return. I’ll try to be courteous to a special needs student, but some days my patience only goes so far. Is selfishness supposed to be our dominant characteristic? I highly doubt that. I think this story does a good job at just displaying the egotism of humanity. We can be so self-centered that we stop caring for the less unfortunate, even if by accident.

Like I said, this story can have many themes and morals, but that one just stuck out to me the most so I felt like sharing it. So why does this moral matter to us? Imagine a world full of self-centered, egotistical human beings. I know what you’re thinking: news flash, our world is already full of them. But I want you to think of it to an extreme. Think of all the selfish crimes out there: theft, rape, burglary, murder, deception, etc. If we let these acts go on without speaking out against them, they would occur much more often. And then ultimately, everyone loses.
I have purposely not talked about this with Christian lingo. Although I feel like that is the best way to stand against evil, I also try to look at things from a secularist’s perspective every now and then. I feel like doing this can help us to see where they are coming from, which in turn will help us to know how to minister to them. Nobody likes selfish people, but we often don’t see our own selfishness. I think the story helped to display that for its readers. Perhaps this was the purpose behind Marquez’s beautiful piece.

A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings

When I read the title, I thought it looked familiar. As I was read more, I then remembered that I read this for my Comp class at my last college. Reading it this time around though, helped to bring more understanding to the text. Maybe it's just me because we have been talking about the mentally disabled, but I felt that this story was closely related to that topic: the weak.

I don't really understand why the author wrote this story the way he did, it's really kinda weird. But nonetheless, I think he got his point accross about the annoyance we feel with the dependent people in the world. I think it is interesting that he chose to describe the character the way he did. First of all he was old and sick. He couldn't fly. He was an angel. I interpreted this as a very dependent being, who couldn't live without help, but yet was very valuable. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like the family he was with saw his value. The only reason they took care of him was because they felt obligated to incase his presence had anything to with their sick child.

The family took what they could get out of him. They put him on display so they could make money off of him. They didn't once think about how he felt about living in a chicken coop and being put on display to be stared at and harmed by strangers.
Does any of this sound familiar? I think in some ways, and not for every circumstance but with some, this is how the mentally challenged, elderly, or physically handicapped can be treated. I'm not talking about putting them on display, but more about them not being valued. Their value is stripped because they aren't fully "human" in our eyes.

The first time I read this story a couple years ago I didn't understand it or even care what it may have meant. It was just a weird story that I read for class. Well now this story is still weird, but I tried to find the meaning behind it. I think the other stuff we have been reading just kinda helped to open my eyes to this story. I'm glad I ended up reading this again!

AFI and Boys Next Door

I wasn't able to make it to the AFI this morning with class, but I'm hoping to make a trip out there. I remember going to an AIDS hospital when I was on a missions trip in New York, and I wonder if that would be similar in any ways. That experience really touched my life and is something I will never forget.

The Boys Next Store was much different than I thought it would be before I started reading it. First off, I had no clue it would be about adults, or about people with mental disorders. I have a feeling when I go to see the play it is definately going to be a tear jerker! I feel like this is a good story to understand the mentally challenged to be people, not just brain dead bodies. These men have feelings and emotions, can tell jokes and experience pain. They can love and they can hate.

I hate that we seperate people because of who they are. I do it myself, so I'm not pointing the finger. It's just like demoninations.."well since they are Baptist, they will never go all out for God" or "Catholics can't really be saved, they are too ritualistic." Why do we do this??? The Bible says that the body is made of many parts. Each part has a different function and certain talents and abilities that they can perform according to their jobs. It doesn't say anything about the hand being better than the femur because it has opposable thumbs! Thats just rediculous. So why do we say one demonination is any better than the other because they do or don't things the way we do?

Anyways, I'm done talking about that lol. I don't wanna go off on a long bunny trail, just a short one ;) Like I said, I'm looking forward to this book. I love anything that has to do with elderly people and mentally challenged people, because they have the best hearts on this planet. I can't wait to go see the play tomorrow! =)

A Day at the Museum

"I'm a Survivor"

My eyes tell a story
from a life of many years;
A tale with deep meaning,
but is landing on deaf ears

The wrinkles on my face
come from many smiles and frowns;
mostly from troubled times,
times that'd bring most people down

Would your life be different
if you knew my story well?
if you felt my sorrows
and experienced my hell?

Was my life lived in vein?
or will someone out there see
the lessons to be learned
from an old woman like me?

Take a minute, sit down
you just listen while I talk
before my time runs out
and I take the Northern walk

Because I'm a survivor.

"I went to the Polk Museum of Art and stayed for at least forty minutes." My favorite part about the museum was by far the student gallery. I can't believe some of the talent that these high schoolers have! I was absolutely blown away. There were photographs, sketches, paintings, and 3-D models, and all of them were spectacular. I love how the pieces showed what our youth are thinking. They got to express themselves and use their painting as their voice to the public. Some wanted to tell us about their pain, some about happiness, some about poverty, and some just wanted to show their creativity. It was very encouraging to see the talent of our generation.

There were some other exhibits as well; the new exhibit was one of the Japanese culture. The paintings were really cool. Most of them had explanations underneath them to explain why the painter added certain objects to the painting, or dressed the women a certain way. I learned a little bit about the Japanese culture just from reading the description under the paintings. They also had some of the embroidered clothing that the Japanese men and women wore. They were hand made and beautiful.

Another exhibit had pottery and other 3-D art from all over the world. It was kind of cool to see how the art differed from country to country. At first it was hard to tell the differences, but once I stayed in there for a little but longer, I started paying attention to the detail and sizes of the art.

Overall, I had a good visit. I stayed for about an hour and it was nice to get off campus for class. I enjoyed this trip and am looking forward to some more!

Reading and Connecting with Poetry

I enjoyed reading this piece from Francis McAloon. The way he described his process of lectio divina was really cool. I know lectio divina is all pretty much the same, but when reading that tonight, I was inspired to try lectio divina this week. And now that I have said lectio divina four times in just four sentences, I'm going to stop saying it ;)

I agreed with Francis when he said that poetry is about engaging the reader into responding. But I also believe the responsibility isn't solely on the poet. I think it is also up to the reader to respond. I can be close minded a lot when reading, and I therefore don't grow or respond when reading a piece of work. The work itself can be great, but that doesn't necessarily mean I will respond. Than again, if a work is great enough, will it have the capability of capturing any audience?

Darkness and Hope

Wow, this piece has so much to it that I have too many thoughts in my head and don't feel like I can organize them into a blog haha. I must say, well done Professor Corrigan. I feel like there was a lot of truth to what you said and a lot of stuff I didn't fully understand as well. But all in all, I left with a lot of food for thought.

This piece got me to thinking of all the ways darkness can enter our lives, kind of like how Corrigan expressed in his work. Darkness can be self-inflicted or could come from an outer source. But I love how Corrigan linked it to hope...and also doubt and faith. It is all a matter of how we respond to our darkness or doubt that will determine our hope and faith.

The question “Where is God?”
is much different from “Where is God in the
darkness?”

I like that statement. I think we can get so trapped in giving the Christian answer. But if we take the time to actually ask ourselves these hard questions and think about them before responding, we will learn to be much more truthful with ourselves and with God. I am one of those people who likes to avoid the hard questions. During my God time, I will sometimes have music on when I know I need to just turn it off so I can really think. It is so easy however, to just keep the music on, or to stay on Facebook, or talk on the phone, than it is to stop everything and simply think. Simply listen. Simply pray.

God must be burning to have His children just stop. That is something I am going to focus on this week, to just stop and think. stop and listen. stop and pray.
Thank you Professor Corrigan for sharing your thoughts!

Lake Bonny Park

Creation Cries

the birds soar,
flowers bloom, and bugs explore;
the lizard crawls where the rocks lie
but still creation cries

a most beautiful green, displays the grass;
the trees, from when many years passed
lived through harsh weather yet didn't die
but still creation cries

creation cries from the deepest oceans
to the tallest tree in the woods
they cry despite their splendor,
since the world doesn't see their good

the lion weeps, the bat can't sleep
has mankind fallen too steep?
will they stop to listen, see, smell
the wonders the Maker wants to tell?

For this, creation cries

"I went to Lake Bonny Park and stayed for at least 40 minutes."

When will we stop and listen to creation? It is so beautiful and filled with the fingerprints of God. The Bible says that God reveales His existence through His creaiton. Just stop and think about that for a minute...He reveals Himself through the leaves and grasses. Through the lions and bears. Through the lizards and bugs. Everything reveals the Creator that made it. Have you ever been in a science class, and one day it talked about how precise the elements must be in the water for certain fish to survive. Or about the intricate details of an orchid that fit perfectly with the body of a bee to allow it to pollinate and reproduce. Or what about the irreducible complexity of the miscroscopic engine of a flagella that has over 40 parts, and without one of those parts it would cease to work and therefore there would be no bacteria that is vital for life?

Maybe I'm just thinking too far into this, but sitting around for that long in the silence just got me to thinking about all of the wonders of creation. It was overwhelming really. I am a science major, so I hear about the beauty and complexity of creation often. But what amazes me is that we still don't know so much about it! They aren't even 100% sure how a 70ft tree manages to pull water from its roots to the the high tips of its branches without an engine system to propel the water.

I really enjoyed this field trip. This class has a lot of interesting activities, but they bring a lot of life into my work. I hope we can do more stuff like this in the future!

Mary Oliver

These poems by Mary oliver are probably my favorite piece from this class. Each one of them had a way of speaking to me in a different way. I love the first line of The Messenger: My work is loving the world. That immediately captured my attention. I could tell by this line that Oliver was most likely a Christian, and so I wanted to read on. "Am I no longer your, and still not half-perfect? Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished." Isn't it ironic that the work Oliver talks about is being still? I would love to go to work today and just be still! I think he is talking about a different work. The work of our lives; the work that matters most. The work of appreciation.

Another piece that I liked from Oliver was the Six Recognitions of our Lord. As I read these six, I realized they were different ways that people find that place with God. Number one and three were closely related to my ways of recognizing God. Number one simply says, "I know a lot of fancy words. I tear them from my heart and my tongue. Then I pray." Something I think we all can be really good at is buttering up a good prayer to the Lord. "Be with us, Oh God....Be upon us, Oh Lord..." Sometimes I feel like we say things to Him without even really thinking about the words we are saying. This poem talks about thinking of our words before we say them, so they are meaningful. I am always challenged by this, but it is well worth it to think about what we are saying to God. I think we learn a lot about ourselves when we do this.

The Uses of Sorrow was another favorite of mine, although I liked them all. I think I liked it just because I can relate to it so well. I can think of two major incidences in my life where I was given a box of darkness. It took a very long time to see that the darkness was in fact a gift. To me, it was a gift because it made me who I am today, which is very different than who I used to be.

State of the Planet

I was shocked to read that this was a poem! Other than it breaking up into different stanzas, I would not have recognized the poetry in this piece. I'm not trying to take away from it's quality, I actually really enjoyed reading it. There just didn't seem to be any patterns or flow to the structure of the lines. Than again, I'm not an expert in poetry myself ;)

I did notice that Robert Hass kept the same idea of the girl and her backpack. Although he went on tangents about the contents of her book, he didn't forget what he was talking about. And can I just say, that I was really interested in what he was writing! Maybe that's because I'm a biology major, but my biased preferences helped me to remain interested in the contents of this poem. I love science and the wonders of nature. But I also like poetry, so it was a good mix. I'm not quite sure why he decided to use this school girl in his poem; either it has a significant point, or he was just using her a doorway to talk about what he really wanted to talk about.

I also like this poem because I believe it is somewhat unique to other poems. This man is obviously very intelligent in the biological realm. But he also wanted to write poetry. As I sat here trying to figure out why this information would be put into a poem, I came up with a simple answer. He is simply doing what he loves. Does not God promise to give us the desires of our heart? How many of us have so many things that we love to do, but can't quite figure out what we want to do, or what God wants us to do? I love science and want to teach it one day. But I also want to be a missionary. I want to be a wife and a mother. I also love the elderly! I want to care for them one day. I want to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, care for the helpless, and give hope to the hopeless. How can one accomplish all of this in one lifetime?! Why would God put so many desires in our hearts if not all of them can be fulfilled? I believe they can be fulfilled.

Let's get creative. Robert Hass loves science and poetry, and he made them work together. What things in our life can we join together and make work in harmony to be more effective? I don't know, just a thought I had as I was thinking about this poem. Think about the desires God has given you (not the desires you have because of being in this world, but the God-given desires) and how He wants you to use them. After all, they may be your desires, but its still all about Him!

Short Story..."Pride, Deception, Grief, and Mercy"

Black as night are the locks of her hair, and her shape more perfect than diamonds. I simply went for a walk on the roof; who would imagine my eyes would fall upon such beauty below. I wonder if she is given to another man? A woman with her splendor must be. But I am the king of Israel; I can have what I want, can I not? I am not just any king either, but the same king who is the slayer of the giant Goliath, the one who stood courageously before this beast when the other soldiers held back, shaking in their armor. Surely I am not boasting, but simply stating the truth just the way it is! I, King David, have been placed in the authority of kingship by God himself. I was called long before I was crowned; I deserve a little pride in myself by now. And I deserve that beautiful woman that I see below bathing in the sunlight.
“Messenger, go and send for that woman down there. I wish to speak with her. Does she belong to someone?”
“Yes my Lord. She is the wife of Uriah, your faithful soldier.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Well that complicates things a bit, but nothing I can’t handle. I just wanted to see her, it’s not like I am going to take her as my wife. And now that she is here in front of me, her beauty is even more radiant than I remember. Her countenance is innocent, and her eyes show the purity of her soul. Although her dress is beautiful, I am sure it doesn’t do justice for what is underneath. Is she as prude as she is quiet? How can I have her? Her dear husband is fighting my war, but he won’t even have to know; that is, if she can keep a secret. She’s quiet enough here in my presence, I’m sure she has to be a confidential person. There is only one way to find out. Besides, I am the king of Israel; if something goes wrong, it won’t be too hard to cover up a tiny problem.
~~~~~~~~~~
Uriah is a good man. From the day he started working for me, I have yet to find a flaw in his service, his character, his integrity. He is strong and fights hard in battle. He has been a faithful friend to me, more loyal than anyone I know. It will be hard to find a replacement, but it must happen. What’s done is done with Bathsheba. She is with child and it is not Uriah’s. But I am the king of Israel; I’m not going to let one person destroy my God-given kingship over one night with his wife.
~~~~~~~~~~
I thought Uriah might enjoy a night with Bathsheba, after being gone for so long in battle. But since he has refused to eat the food I offer and sleep in the guest quarters because he is restless and worried for the others who are unprotected, then I will put him where he can’t be protected. Tomorrow when he returns to battle, I will order that he be placed on the front line of battle. Because he is faithful he will do what is asked of him, even if it takes his life (the very thing I pray will happen).
~~~~~~~~~~
Oh Lord what have I done?! I tear my clothes in mourning over this act of murder. Why didn’t I see this before? Was I too arrogant to see the terrible sin and deceit that was in my heart? Is it too late to erase the events of these past days? I have gone from a great and mighty king to the lowest pagan that begs for mercy. Thank You for sending Nathan to me, your servant who came with a message through parable. He said the very thing I fear the most: I will lose the son that my new wife, Bathsheba, is carrying. All of Israel will know what I have done with her; they will realize the plot against Uriah, my good friend and faithful soldier. What kind of king will they think I am? Surely they will doubt my authority from this point on; my kingship will be ineffective. I’m going to fail as a king, a husband, a father, and as Your son, oh God. Will my heart ever be whole again? Will I be able to serve my land and care for my wife when my own strength is broken? My wife, my sweet and beautiful wife. She has lost her first husband to death, and now she will lose her second husband to death. For this is no way to live; although I eat and breath, I have no life in me. I have nothing to offer her; who will comfort her when her son is dead, and who will provide for her another son? Surely not I, oh Lord. I have nothing left to give. What I have is filthy and ragged. She deserves better than that; Israel deserves better than that. “Have mercy on me, Oh God, because of Your unfailing love. Because of Your great compassion, blot out the stain of my sins. Wash me clean from my guilt. Purify me from my sin….Oh, give me back my joy again; You have broken me- now let me rejoice….You do not desire a sacrifice, or I would offer one. You do not want a burnt offering. The sacrifice You desire is a broken spirit….”
~~~~~~~~~~
As surely as I am alive today, the God of Israel lives and reigns! He is merciful and shows kindness to his undeserving servants. I, King David, cannot compare to the real King of Israel. It wasn’t long ago that I felt in ruins, but God has restored my strength. Israel still has their king, but I am a changed king. I don’t know that there is any pride left in me, for I know who I am without the Lord. He is so good; my beautiful wife has conceived again. She is due to give birth to a son soon, and he will be loved by God. Because of God’s mercy, I can still be the king, the husband, and the father I have desired to be all along. But it comes with a price, and that price is my life. A debt I am willing to pay, for it doesn’t come close to what I owe to the Lord. “Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken. My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me. O my people, trust in Him at all times. Pour out your heart to Him, for God is our refuge.”

Spring Break and a Little Exodus

I don't know about you, but my Spring Break passed entirely too quickly and left behind an urgency to wrap up this semester. But we can look at it two ways; the glass is half empty or half full! This semester I have really felt God tugging at me, but couldn't figure out what and why exactly. It's funny to me that He revealed that answer in literature during the break, because now I can write about i for my post :) Of course, that literature is the Bible and the story is found in the book of Exodus.

The church I have been going to has been doing a series on Moses and his walk through the desert. While it has been a great series, this week's message just really smacked me in the face as if to say, "This is what I have been trying to tell you!" The message was all about how much alone time we spend with God. The focus was on chapter 3 in Exodus, the encounter Moses had with God through the burning bush. Up to this point, Moses had been in the desert for 40 years tending to a flock of sheep. After 40 years of nothing but desert and sheep, God showed up; it just happened out of the blue. Moses wasn't expecting it. And even more importantly, he left his flock to go to the burning bush. Shepherds don't leave their flock; sheep are vulnerable and easy prey for predators. But because Moses left the flock and was alone with God, He showed up. How often do we leave out every day obligations to give our time/thoughts/meditations/energy to God? And when it does finally happen, how much time is given to Him? 5 minutes? 10? Yes it's true, we are pathetic. Our minds are so wrapped in this present day that we have lost our fear and reverence of an Almighty God. We are addicted to a chaotic lifestyle and expect God to move when we pray these microwave popcorn prayers.

In verse 6 it says that Moses hid his face from the Lord. He understood the divinity of God and gave Him the reverence that is due to Him. When did we lose this mindset? Was it when we started referring to God as the "man upstairs?" Once I saw this, I was disgusted with my feeble mind. I can't wait to see God in all of His glory and fully understand what it means to be in His presence.

This message just really put things back into perspective and helped me to see where my priorities lie. The things we give the most time to are the things we care about the most. I am really evaluating what that means in my life. I encourage anyone reading this to do the same. What are you addicted to that you can't kick? What's holding you back from giving in to God and making youself vulnerable to Him? These aren't always easy questions to ask ourselves. But if I can convince you to do one thing, it would be to...

get alone with God, before you have to get alone with God.

Sonny's Blues

This is definately my favorite piece read in this class so far. There were so many parts that I loved in James Baldwin's work, that I can't share them all with you. So I will just share a couple.

I think what I admired so much about this story was the honesty from the narrator in his real life situation. It was said how it was, with no sugar coating. We often get so well acquainted with lying to other people that we don't even know who we truly are anymore. An example of the honesty Sonny has with himself is in the following line:
"I've been something I didn't recognize, didn't know I could be. Didn't know anybody could be."
Is this something we can relate to? I know it is in my life, but I'm not about to sit down with someone and talk about it. And Sonny didn't either. He went on to say that he couldn't talk about it, "not to [his brother], not to anybody."

I would have loved to read this story from Sonny's perspective as well. I liked reading it from his brother's point of view, but I feel like Sonny has so many mysterious sides to him that I wish I could understand. Sonny seemed to have this wisdom that only a few possess. He knew his potential and what he wanted to accomplish. He knew what would make him and others happy. Or at least thats what it seemed like. Even though he was the younger brother, he seemed to be the one who fit into the right niche. Then again, the narrator doesn't talk much about his own life. I know that he is a teacher, has a wife, and lost his daughter. Does he not talk about it because he isn't happy with it? Or is it simply because this story is about Sonny and not him?

I would have liked the story to end a different way. I didn't totally understand the ending, but I did like how Sonny got to show his brother that he was living out his dream. Sonny brought his brother into his world, which is all he wanted all along. He just wanted people to respect him for who he was and the dreams he had. He wanted people to listen ...

"All I know about music is that not many people ever really hear it."

The Imaginary Invalid

"I attended Southeastern's production of The Imaginary Invalid and watched the entire play."

We took our seats at around 7:15pm and waited for the moment when the play would begin. It wasn't but five minutes before the production began that I noticed colorfully dressed girls prancing around and finding their way through the audience. There were blondes and brunettes, short and tall, all wearing short dresses and leggings with nothing that seemed to match but still came together for a perfectly odd outfit. One bubbly blonde with curly pigtails sat in front of us and played with another girl's hair. I sat watching these hysterical characters interacting with the audience, yet not using any words; it was much like a pantomime show. The lights dimmed; it was time for the show.

The colorful ladies took their place on stage, scattered between the upstairs and downstairs rooms. Argan, the imaginary invalid, was the first to appear on stage, reading through his list of expensive medical procedures. We soon learn that he has two daughters, a second wife, and a hilarious housekeeper. One of his daughters, Angelique, is in love with Cleante; but before Cleante has the opportunity to ask her father for her hand in marriage, another father-son duo does the job. They are out for his money and planned the scheme only to get to her father's wealth. By the end of the play, the housekeeper, Toinette, helps to plot a clever intervention on Angelique's behalf. Argan becomes his own doctor and Angelique gets to be with the man she loves.

I really enjoyed this play. It reminded me of how much talent we have here at Southeastern. The cast, the set up crew, and the media crew all did a fantastic job. Props to Mr. Dixon for putting together such an awesome production. Although I'm not really sure why the colorful dancers were in the play, it really added a lot to the production and was probably one of my favorite parts. I also loved Toinette the housekeeper. The only thing I didn't like about the play was how late it ended; the play began at 7:30 and lasted until 10:00, including the intermission. It would have been nice if it began at 6pm. However, I would say that I am overall very well pleased with The Imaginary Invalid.

Pass

I am using a pass for this blog =)

Blogging

I feel like blogging is one of the biggest parts of our class; we have two due a week and they really cause us to connect what we are learning in the classroom to what we are thinking in our minds.

One of the instructions for blogging is to engage the text in our blog. This relates to our class time because we are constantly referring back to the text during class and therefore are required to do the same for our blog. I quickly learned that this wasn't a class I could take lightly; if I don't read the text I can't really interact in class or know what to write about for the blog. Not ot mention, if I don't read the text (which happened once before) I am guilted by the mini quizzes we end up taking in class!

One of the ideas discussed about reading in class was to re-read the text in order to come to a better understanding of its theme and meaning. As much as I don't like to re-read texts, especially when they are long, I have come to find that it is extremely effective. Usually at first glance I read over a poem and don't understand it; instead of wanting to figure it out, I would rather simply put it away and forget about it. But if you can get me to read it a second time and I begin to comprehend the message, I quickly become interested and want to decipher its meaning! I think blogging helps to put that on paper and gets me to write my thoughts down, making them more concrete. I would liek to re-ignite my excitement for blogging by engaging my thoughts more into the texts. When I first started blogging, I really liked being able to write down my thoughts and feel like I was being heard. Lately I have been taking it less seriously, and as a result haven't enjoyed them as much. But I want to change that; I want to be more negaged in the text to have a deeper blog posts that will ultimately being an enjoyable experience to myself and hopefully others.

Cemetery Journey

"I went to the Lakeview, Roselawn and Tiger Flowers cemetery complex for this fieldtrip, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes."

I really enjoyed going to the cemeteries; I know that sounds weird, but there is really sort of a peace in places like that. No matter who you are, you can't help but respect the dead when you are in the presence of their tomb stones. Before venturing out to wander the grounds, I re-read Whitman's poem. One part of it really stuck out to me that I wanted to focus on during my time there:

O what shall I hang on the chamber walls?

And what shall the pictures be that I hang on the walls,

To adorn the burial-house of him I love?

What I believe Whitman is talking about here is he is asking himself who Abe Lincoln was to him. What would he want to display for the world to see that would say something profound about the life of his dear friend? As I walked about the grounds, there were different things written on the stones...."Infant son," "World War II SGT," "Methodist Minister." What would be said about me? This inspires me to really do something in my life. I want to love people in such a way that they will remember that most when I leave this world.

I spoke with one of my classmates today and he mentioned how Professor Corrigan always talks about death. We started discussing why this might be, and something occured to me. Whether this is his intention or not, he has caused me to really examine my life as we are continually discussing death. Death is becoming more real to me, and as a collateral life is becoming more real as well. As surely as I am moving and breathing now, I will also cease to live one day. There is so much significance in that statement. Our lives are but a vapor, but such an important vapor; that vapor determines our eternity. What am I going to do with the short time that is given to me?

Lilacs by Whitman

This poem was really hard for me to understand; I can't tell what kind of mood Whitman is in while he is writing this. I know the poem is about death, but his words are so beautiful that it is hard for me to see a dreary mood. But it also is hard for me to understand exactly what the words are saying! I think it is sad how we are not really accustomed to this kind of writing anymore. It really is beautiful and I wish I could comprehend it as easily as I can modern writing.

To try and understand it better, I read the blogs from my group to see what they had to say ;) A couple of them talked a lot about adding goodness to our lives to help with the bad; the goodness being lilacs. I do this pretty much all the time to buffer the negatives of my day; for instance, I ate a few pieces of chocolate at work today just to feel better after a long day :) But on a more serious note, how much more should I be relying on God to buffer the evil of the world? I am tempted to say that I wish God could simply eliminate the evil in the world, but I know there is evil for a reason. God didn't create it, no. Evil entered the world by our free will. But God, in His good grace, is able to manipulate (for lack of a better word) this evil that we produce and make it to work with His plans. "For we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose." This doesn't mean things are always going to look good, but that's where faith comes in that God is the one who knows what He is doing!

Onions..Nasty!

As I walked into class on Friday, I couldn't believe the bitter sweet aroma of onion filling my nose while I found my seat. Little did I know we would be reading a poem about onions in just a few minutes!

I liked the procedure we went through in order to read the poem. Reading it several times definitely helped to spark my interest, because to be honest if I had just read that poem only one time I would have put it down and never given it a second thought. About half way through the class we began to discuss what this poem was talking about. Some of us thought it was simply about an onion, while others thought it may be talking about something more.

The more I read it, the more I was convinced it had to be about more than onions, because of the fact that some of the lines didn't seem to make sense if she was merely talking about onions. As much as I believe this poem is about something else, I couldn't tell you what she was talking about haha. Of course, I don't think our class ever reached a sure conclusion as to the meaning of this poem either. Maybe it's one of those poems that aren't meant to have a definate meaning, but are to be left up to the interpretation of the reader. Then again, the paper we read about poem reading says that it is a fallacy of readers, to believe a poem is left to interpretation.

The more I read the poem, I could picture it talking about slavery. The way she was referring to the onion as something that is unoticed but contributes so much to the big picture. Another student thought she was talking about the author herself, and how she felt people thought of her. I guess we will never know!

The Book of Joel

The first part of Joel sounded a lot like the Book of Isaiah, as God's message described destruction, wrath, and turning back to God. Some of it is really disheartening to read because it makes God sound like and rage-filled Creator. But listen to this verse:
Now return to the LORD your God,
For He is gracious and compassionate,
Slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness
And relenting of evil.
That was taken out of the book of Joel, the same book that is talking of the devastating locusts and what not. I think what people fail to see sometimes, is the love of God in the midst of his repremending.

When I was 16 or 17 (I dont remember) I hit a cyclist with my car, and fled the scene. When I returned ten minutes later, the injured man's bike was all that was left. My heart sank as I imagined all the different things that could have happened to him. But instead of repenting and turning myself in, I drove to church (it was a Wednesday night) and acted like nothing happened. I got a call that night from the police department and was asked to meet up with an officer at the scene of the crime. Long story short, I had a court date in a few weeks facing criminal charges.

I knew what I did was very wrong, and couldn't believe I did what I did, even under the state of panic I was in. It was at that point, after the punishment, that I repented. I cried to God for forgiveness, while I felt as tiny as a grain of sand. The man was ok; his ankle was injured which resulted in him ending his tennis career. And his $4,500 cycling bike was totaled. But he was alive. At that point, his life was all that mattered to me. And for all I cared, I deserved every charge I was going to face in court.

God saw my heart; he knew I was deathly sorry. He surprised me in court when I showed up and the state representative forgot my file in his office. Therefore the judge charged me with one non-moving violation. What a break! Praise the Lord.

I don't often share this story, only when I feel led to do so. We all screw up, some worse than others. God has the choice to decide how He is going to deal with us. But no matter what the punishment...He is loving us through the entire process. In fact, it is out of His love that He is punishing us. If you think about it, without Christ, our punishment would be a hell of a lot worse (pun intended).

Reading Joel just sort of brought all of that to mind. And what is awesome is that there is always hope. The silver lining on the clouds will come into view at the right time. I want to close with another verse from Joel. God bless!
It will come about after this
That I will pour out my Spirit on all mankind;
And your sons and daughters will prophesy,
Your old men will dream dreams,
Your young men will see visions.

What's the Theme?

What bizarre stories!
I can’t believe how the author changed some of these versions. In a way it was humorous just because it was more realistic. The way the nursery rhymes changed made me think of how drastically our culture changes too. Think of what it was like fifty years ago in America. Yea we still had prostitution, drugs, and the sort, but it was still somehow so much different. If it wasn’t different then our baby boomers wouldn’t be so upset about how our generation has turned out.

And just as these stories had different themes, so do our lives have different themes. I have been doing a lot of soul searching this week, so much so that it’s hard to even concentrate on writing this blog. I feel like God is really moving on this campus, stirring our hearts for something huge. And it’s making me think…what is the theme of my life? What am I living for? If my life were to be summarized, what would that synopsis say about my theme? When I became a Christian seven years ago, my story reached its climax. And since then my theme has changed a lot, starting with my growth in God, then moving on to winning souls for Christ, then to healing and restoration. But what is it now? I feel like while I am here at SEU my theme is preparation. My life is so focused on school at times that it drives me crazy, but then I try to remind myself that it will all be worth it in the end. I guess that is a good theme for now!

In class we discussed the possibility of there being many themes in one story. Maybe that is what is going on in all of our lives. What’s the theme of your story?

My super weird dream, and "The things they carried"

I had an extremely weird dream last night that must have been inspired by C.S. Lewis...

My roommate and I were just chillin one night in our dorm room, which was like ten stories high, and I had my dog with me. Her name is Dingo; she is a black and brown chihuahua and one of my favorite puppies in the whole world. I have actually missed her a bunch since I came back to Southeastern (which is probably why she was in my dream). The weird part of my dream was that I stood near an open window and strangled my dog with my own hands. I felt nothing while I was strangling her, until I felt her last breath and her body slowly melting into my grip. Then the biggest sorrow came over me and I said to myself...Did I just do that only to see how it would feel to lose someone I loved?

I told you my dream was weird, but it makes me think of C.S. Lewis and why in the world he would marry a dying woman. That is like providing the gun for your killer. He must have lost his mind for a moment, much like I did in my dream while I was killing my dog!

I feel like "The Things They Carried" was pretty strange, but was reality at the same time. I found the story a little hard to follow; not as far as following the transitions in the story, but just with keeping up with each of the men's lives. I knew the author was writing the things they carried for a reason, so I would try to keep up with the different men and their possessions only to find myself frustrated. I don't have much to say about this story; maybe I just missed the point of it but it didn't seem to catch my attention. Hopefully the class discussion will spark my interest!

A Final Grief Observed

As I have read through this book in the past week, I have felt myself going through my own grieving process again. I felt the pain, the anger, the confusion, and the emptiness just as I read Lewis' words. I couldn't believe I was allowing myself to read something that was bringing me back to such despair. I appreciated Lewis for his honesty, yet I felt bitter while reading his perfectly written similes. However, this last chapter that I read gave me a restored hope. As he was able to bring his thoughts together to make sense, I felt like I was doing the same within me.

It seems like in his last chapter he is somewhat nearing the end of his grieving cycle. He is starting to see the silver lining around the clouds. Everything just seems to be more positive than before : "When I lay these questions before God I get no response. But a rather special sort of 'No answer.' It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, 'Peace, child; you don't understand.'" You see how he still has some of the same questions but he is seeing the answer in a different light? That is the hope that God puts in us, only sometimes it takes us longer to remember our hope.

There is a couple more sentences I want to quote, and then I'll close: "Lord, are these your real terms? Can I meet H. again only if I learn to love you so much that I don't care whether I meet her or not?" I have felt that way so passionately in the past that it made me want to give up on God. I felt that I couldn't love Him enough to forget the person I had lost.

My dad died when I was fourteen years old, and my relationship with God was brand new at the time. I knew my dad was in heaven and felt like I needed to really be right with God so I could see my dad again someday. After many failed attempts, I finally just cried before God; it was impossible. It was then that God could finally wrap me in His arms; when I stopped worrying about having to love God. When I let go and just loosened my fears.

Much like Lewis, the few memories I have with my dad are slowly blurring. I can't see every detail of his face, or the exact color of his blue eyes. But the realtionship I had with him is still very real to me. And I love that God respects that and understands my hurts and is loving me through my pain. The silver lining has come into view and hope has reached my heart once again. I want to say thanks to C.S. Lewis for bringing up my past pain and my current peace. "For weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5

A Grief Observed, Chapter 1...

Wow, so I was kind of dreading reading this since it's 10pm and I still have other homework tonight (this is what I get for procrastinating yet again). Man am I glad I read this, and not just because I promised Professor Corrigan I would read the rest of our assignments on time from now on (even though that's why i read it in the first place!). For some reason, I always forget how much I love Lewis' works until I pick one up and read it.

One of my favorite lines from this chapter was this: "Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything." I love how he uses this sort of oxymoronish sentence to depict what is reality. The sky is obviously present, and is all over the place. But someone's absence means they are not present, yet it is still felt everywhere. That sentence kind of connects with the last thing he said in this chapter, which I also love: "But her voice is still vivid. The remembered voice- that can turn me at any moment to a whimpering child."

I can see that he is experiencing real grief, the kind of grief that comes only when you lose someone so dear to you that you feel you can't live without them. I love that he doesn't try to preach to himself, but instead just says exactly what he is feeling. God is still real, but so are we. It is ok for us to say exactly what we are feeling, especially when we our feelings are so obviously real.

There aren’t many feelings that have such intensity as grief, but Lewis touches on one of the very few that do: love. He loved H. so much that he felt it even in the very core of his being. The feeling of grief is very much the same as love in power, but totally different at the same time. But it is a feeling none the less, and is as real as the person we have lost.

Happy Endings...Or Not

Isn't it funny how we dream up the perfect future for our lives even though we can see that everyone around us is living with those bumps in the road that we wish we'll never have?

Girls can probably relate with me a little more on this topic..not to be sexist or stereotypical. But while we grew up playing with dolls and pretending to be house wives with our toy kitchen sets, boys were running around squishing bugs and beating each other up. I think we can all pretty much agree that girls think about getting married and having families much earlier than boys do in life. But on the other hand, once boys get to the point where they actually notice us girls, they too start planning their dream world futures.

We go to college to live out the first part of our dream; this is preparation time for future careers, and for some it is the time to find their soul mate. We begin to decided on our picture perfect job that we think we will have for our entire lives, and a spouse that we will marry and love perfectly until the day we die. But seldom do we imagine what life may really end up being like for us.

Divorce, financial struggles, death, natural disasters; these are things we don't plan on experiencing. Sure we may plan for some of these things financially, but I don't think there is any way to emotionally prepare for things that can and will happen in our lifetime. It is said that a major life changing tragedy happens approximately every seven years. And that is if your lucky; I can think of four in my life so far and I am not 28 years old!

In Happy Endings, the author does a pretty good job at elaborating on the point I am trying to make. We are human, which means we have a naturally sinful disposition. We can't expect all of our dreams to come out picture perfect, it really doesn't even happen that way in the movies these days. I sound pretty pessimistic, but I'm trying to be real with myself. Of course I hope and pray that I live a happy and successful life, so I'll keep dreaming up my perfect future like the rest of the world. =)

What is love anyway?

There has to be a hundred definitions for the word love; the hard part is narrowing that definition into a single sentence or paragraph even. It would take an entire lifetime to recite one's definition of love; it cannot be spoken of as much as it can be lived.

I like how Raymond Carver described love through the actions, body language, and dialog of his characters instead of writing out a definiton or trying to explain what love is. Sure his characters took a few swings at trying to define love, but even they went back and forth and never really agreed with each other. Or at least Mel and Terri didn't agree. It makes me wonder what Carver's explanation of love would be, since there was never a solution at the end. Maybe his answer is that love changes from person to person, depending on how we choose to live and respond to love.

One of the first lines that really caught my attention in this piece was in lines 38-39:
"It was love," Terri said. "Sure, it's abnormal in most people's eyes. But he was willing to die for it. He did die for it."
If I took these sentences out of the context of this story, I could totally relate this to the love of Christ. His love was definitely abnormal compared to the world. He loved the people who hated him, who were dirty and filthy, and who had nothing in common with him. Most people love because it is comfortable and feels right; I don't think the kind of love Christ calls us to have is always going to be comfortable. We are called to love people who mock the very essence of our purpose for living. That doesn't sound appealing to me; yet that is what Christ did and what he calls us to do. In fact, he is so passionate about this kind of love that he died for it. I haven't heard of anyone who died for something they didn't truly believe in. He lived for this love and died for this love.

But let's go back to the context of the story and then read lines 38-39. This man died because of the love he had for Terri. But the love he had for her was lived out through hateful acts. Is this truly love? Could Terri's perspective of love be skewed, possibly by her own life expereiences? If I had to guess, that is what is happening here. Mel went to seminary, although he dropped out. But that experience helped to shape his definition of love. Laura and Nick have their own definition of love that seems to be shaped by the relationship they have with one another.

I'm sure my life experiences are shaping my definition of love as well. But I pray that my experiences will only lead me closer to the definition of love that God has laid out for us in His Word. So many verses come to mind that it is hard to use just one to describe the love of God. However, this particular verse has a lot of meaning and obligation to it, so I would like to leave you with ~John 15:13~
"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

Post One: Literature!

Like many of you, my earliest memories of literature are the children's books that were read to me as a child. While there aren't many I remember, I do recall the big green book with the little boy and the huge tree. Some of you may know what I am talking about; the boy talks to an old man and there are amny stories about that one tree. At this point my memory isn't good enough to know what the moral of that story was, but whenever I see the lime green book in a library or bookstore I am brought back to my younger years. Of course, there were some other classic books like Dr. Suess and The Frog and the Toad.

Some of my most recent memories of literature are the books I read throughout this past summer. For some reason I had a lot of time on my hands and decided to fill it with reading, which is not how I usually decide to spend my spare time. I'm so glad I decided to pick up books that summer; I realized how much fun it is to read (and finish) a really good book. I read five or six books in those four months, which is a record for me! My favorite one is a tie between A Time to Embrace by Karen Kinsgbury, Between Sundays by Karen Kingsbury, and Crazy Love by Francis Chan. There was also a book that I absolutely hated but read through the entire thing anyway. I couldn't even tell you the name of it, but I think the plot was just horrible.

The most significant literary text I have read comes from a very small book called Safe People by Cloud and Townsend. It was short but very life changing for me. This book has helped me to become a better person and ambassador for Christ. There are other great books I have read, but I won't get into that! Literature is important because it is a way of mass communicating with the world. If you have something to say to billions of people, than writing a book is the way to do it. The only way literature may be insignificant is that it will one day parish. I think the only book that will be in Heaven is the Bible; we won't have commentaries to help us understand it, or those Dummies books to teach us how to create blogs or learn a language. It will be insignificant compared to the glory of God that we will be experiencing. Other than that, I think literature is a wonderful thing and God even uses it to communicate to the world the message of the cross.