This is my favorite picture from the sunflower field frolicking we did over the weekend
4.18.2006
4.11.2006
Christ on the Cross
This is an excerpt from a book called 'Meditations on the Cross' by: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, it has been some wonderful holy week reading.
Christ on the cross, the murdered Son of God – that is the end of Cain’s history, and thus the end of all history. It is the last, desperate assault on the gates of paradise. The human race dies under the slashing sword, under the cross. But Christ lives. The trunk of the cross becomes the wood of life, and in the middle of the world life is established anew in the accursed ground. In the center of the world, from the wood of the cross, the fountain of life springs up anew, and all those thirsting for life are called to this water, and whoever has eaten of the wood of this life will never again hunger or thirst. A strange paradise, this hill of Golgotha, this cross, this blood, this broken body; a strange tree of life, this trunk on which God himself had to suffer and die – and yet here is bequeathed anew by God in grace: the kingdom of life, of resurrection, an open door of imperishable hope, of waiting, and of patience. Tree of life, cross of Christ, the center of God’s fallen and preserved world, that is the end of the story of paradise for us.
Today now he unlocks the door
To blessed paradise.
No angel bars it anymore,
To God all honor, glory and praise
Christ on the cross, the murdered Son of God – that is the end of Cain’s history, and thus the end of all history. It is the last, desperate assault on the gates of paradise. The human race dies under the slashing sword, under the cross. But Christ lives. The trunk of the cross becomes the wood of life, and in the middle of the world life is established anew in the accursed ground. In the center of the world, from the wood of the cross, the fountain of life springs up anew, and all those thirsting for life are called to this water, and whoever has eaten of the wood of this life will never again hunger or thirst. A strange paradise, this hill of Golgotha, this cross, this blood, this broken body; a strange tree of life, this trunk on which God himself had to suffer and die – and yet here is bequeathed anew by God in grace: the kingdom of life, of resurrection, an open door of imperishable hope, of waiting, and of patience. Tree of life, cross of Christ, the center of God’s fallen and preserved world, that is the end of the story of paradise for us.
Today now he unlocks the door
To blessed paradise.
No angel bars it anymore,
To God all honor, glory and praise
4.10.2006
and the winner is....
for all of those on the edge of your seat waiting anxiously for the results of the much anticipated Rat Olympics... I have good news for you, for the rest of you, some good news without all of the anxiety:
Splinter did SOOOOO good... I mean you might as well retire her to the happy rat farm because she's not doing any better than she did today! It was awesome! We trained her to do the long jump but she hadn't been at the peak of her performance since a couple weeks ago when I dropped her and then when she undershot and rammed her face into the other platform. But today! She jumped farther than she ever has and she just kept doing it and so we kept moving the boxes until she exhausted herself. I was so proud. I think she got the gold, it was a perfect execution.
So Splinter... Splint, it was fun while it lasted, hope the breeding colony treats you well and that your amazing leaping skills serve you well.
Splinter did SOOOOO good... I mean you might as well retire her to the happy rat farm because she's not doing any better than she did today! It was awesome! We trained her to do the long jump but she hadn't been at the peak of her performance since a couple weeks ago when I dropped her and then when she undershot and rammed her face into the other platform. But today! She jumped farther than she ever has and she just kept doing it and so we kept moving the boxes until she exhausted herself. I was so proud. I think she got the gold, it was a perfect execution.
So Splinter... Splint, it was fun while it lasted, hope the breeding colony treats you well and that your amazing leaping skills serve you well.
4.08.2006
In Preparation for Easter
I am so excited about Easter... It is right for Easter to be more exciting than Christmas because there wouldn't be a reason to celebrate Christmas without the Resurrection of easter Sunday. So, I want to post some things I've been reading and thinking about to help us prepare for Easter.
The Sacrifice
By: George Herbert
Oh, all ye, who pass by, whose eyes and mind
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blind,
To me, who took eyes that I might you find:
Was ever grief like mine?
Without me each one, who doth now me brave,
Had to this day been an Egyptian slave.
They use that power against me, which I gave
Was ever grief like mine?
Mine own apostle, who the bag did bear,
Though he had all I had, did not forbear
To sell me also, and put me there:
Was ever grief like mine?
Therefore my soul melts, and my heart’s dear treasure
Drops blood (the only beads) my words to measure:
O let this cup pass, if it be thy pleasure
Was ever grief like mine?
With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief,
Who am the way of Truth, the true relief,
Most true to those, who are my greatest grief:
Was ever grief like mine?
Then they accuse me of great blasphemy,
That I did thrust into the deity,
Who never thought that any robbery:
Was ever grief like mine?
Some said, that I the temple to the floor
In three days razed, and raised as before.
Why, he that built the world can do much more:
Was ever grief like mine?
Then they condemn me all with that same breath,
Which I do give them daily, unto death.
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth:
Was ever grief like mine?
Hark how they cry aloud still, crucify:
It is not fit he live a day, they cry,
Who cannot live less than eternally:
Was ever grief like mine?
Ah! How they scourge me! Yet my tenderness
Doubles each lash: and yet their bitterness
Winds up my grief to a mysteriousness
Was ever grief like mine?
Weep not, dear friends, since I for both have wept
When all my tears were blood, the while you slept:
Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept:
Was ever grief like mine?
The soldiers also spit upon that face,
Which angels did desire to have the grace,
And prophets once to see, but found no place:
Was ever grief like mine?
And now weary of sport, glad to engross
All spite in one, counting my life their loss,
They carry me to my most bitter cross:
Was ever grief like mine?
O all ye who pass by, behold and see;
Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree,
The tree of life to all, but only me:
Was ever grief like mine?
Lo, here I hand, charged with a world of sin,
The greater world o’th’ two; for that I came in
By words, but this by sorrow I must win:
Was ever grief like mine?
But, O my God, my God! Why leav’st thou me,
The Son, in whom thou doest delight to be?
My God, My God -------
Never was grief like mine
Shame tears my soul, my body many a wound,
Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound,
Reproaches, which are free, while I am bound.
Was ever grief like mine?
Betwixt two thieves I spend my utmost breath,
As he that for some robbery suffereth.
Alas! What have I stolen from you? Death:
Was ever grief like mine?
Nay, after death their spite shall further go
For they will pierce my side, I full well know;
That as sin came, so Sacraments might flow:
Was ever grief like mine?
But now I did; now all is finished.
My woe, man’s weal: and now I bow my head.
Only let others say, when I am dead,
Never was grief like mine.
The Sacrifice
By: George Herbert
Oh, all ye, who pass by, whose eyes and mind
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blind,
To me, who took eyes that I might you find:
Was ever grief like mine?
Without me each one, who doth now me brave,
Had to this day been an Egyptian slave.
They use that power against me, which I gave
Was ever grief like mine?
Mine own apostle, who the bag did bear,
Though he had all I had, did not forbear
To sell me also, and put me there:
Was ever grief like mine?
Therefore my soul melts, and my heart’s dear treasure
Drops blood (the only beads) my words to measure:
O let this cup pass, if it be thy pleasure
Was ever grief like mine?
With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief,
Who am the way of Truth, the true relief,
Most true to those, who are my greatest grief:
Was ever grief like mine?
Then they accuse me of great blasphemy,
That I did thrust into the deity,
Who never thought that any robbery:
Was ever grief like mine?
Some said, that I the temple to the floor
In three days razed, and raised as before.
Why, he that built the world can do much more:
Was ever grief like mine?
Then they condemn me all with that same breath,
Which I do give them daily, unto death.
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth:
Was ever grief like mine?
Hark how they cry aloud still, crucify:
It is not fit he live a day, they cry,
Who cannot live less than eternally:
Was ever grief like mine?
Ah! How they scourge me! Yet my tenderness
Doubles each lash: and yet their bitterness
Winds up my grief to a mysteriousness
Was ever grief like mine?
Weep not, dear friends, since I for both have wept
When all my tears were blood, the while you slept:
Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept:
Was ever grief like mine?
The soldiers also spit upon that face,
Which angels did desire to have the grace,
And prophets once to see, but found no place:
Was ever grief like mine?
And now weary of sport, glad to engross
All spite in one, counting my life their loss,
They carry me to my most bitter cross:
Was ever grief like mine?
O all ye who pass by, behold and see;
Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree,
The tree of life to all, but only me:
Was ever grief like mine?
Lo, here I hand, charged with a world of sin,
The greater world o’th’ two; for that I came in
By words, but this by sorrow I must win:
Was ever grief like mine?
But, O my God, my God! Why leav’st thou me,
The Son, in whom thou doest delight to be?
My God, My God -------
Never was grief like mine
Shame tears my soul, my body many a wound,
Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound,
Reproaches, which are free, while I am bound.
Was ever grief like mine?
Betwixt two thieves I spend my utmost breath,
As he that for some robbery suffereth.
Alas! What have I stolen from you? Death:
Was ever grief like mine?
Nay, after death their spite shall further go
For they will pierce my side, I full well know;
That as sin came, so Sacraments might flow:
Was ever grief like mine?
But now I did; now all is finished.
My woe, man’s weal: and now I bow my head.
Only let others say, when I am dead,
Never was grief like mine.
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