Kitties

I love them!

A Critique

Hannah & Caleb Zlomke. They are just so photogenic.

I'd like to make time to practice manipulating lighting in photography. For now, a self-critique (critiquing my work is one of the best ways for me to learn). For this photo I'm playing with my reflector. It's not perfect, but I still like it. If I were to do it over again, I would reflect the sunlight from a slightly higher position in order to get a bit of a shadow beneath Hannah's chin. It's all a bit too bright as is. Also, I'm not sold on the color treatment.

What do you think?

Ideas vs. Feelings

Today in Psychology class I took the Meyers Briggs personality test. I've taken this test many times before. In high school I was an INFJ. Now I'm an ENFJ. Every time I've taken it I've teetered in between Introverted and Extroverted. It was no surprise to me to get the same results today: ENFJ. There was one thing that caught my attention, however, a question that I never fully considered until now: do you prefer ideas over feelings?

I've never really given this question much thought. I didn't fully understood it for one thing, but beyond that, there was a small part of me that thought that preferring ideas over feelings would make me less Christ-like, somehow. I didn't realize that this was what I was thinking until I really analyzed my thoughts & feelings about the subject today. To me, being Christ-like means to be loving, and a truly loving person would care more about feelings than about ideas…right? Because love is a feeling…? And ideas aren't. So, if you prefer ideas over feelings, then in a way you must being preferring ideas over love, which means that you can't love people very well. So I never wanted to admit that I might prefer ideas over feelings, but after thinking about it, I realize that I really do prefer ideas over feelings. And actually, that doesn't make me less Christ-like at all.

If you place me in a scenario where I have the option to have a conversation with a close friend about feelings (could be hers or mine) OR about an idea (could be as simple as what color you think someone would be if there were a color, or as complex as the Enneagram personality types and how they might relate to each other when applied to fictional characters), I will always choose to talk about the idea. I don't really have an explanation as to why I prefer ideas over feelings, so I'm simply going to say that it's just a personality thing. Don't get me wrong: I don't dislike feelings, nor do I dislike hearing about how my friends are feeling. I care deeply about these things, but given the choice, I'll choose ideas.

This discovery, though it may seem small, is actually quite large for me. I realize that I have weird ideas sometimes about how someone should act if they're a Christ follower. In this case, I denied a specific personality trait that I possess because I thought it was bad or wrong. The result was that I was trying to force myself to act one way while trying to supress my desire to act another way. The truth is that it's not bad at all to possess this trait: in fact, God's the one who put it there in the first place. SO, this discovery has helped me take another step or two towards being okay with being me. More of the pressure that I tend to put on myself has been lifted.

I feel more free and at peace with myself and with God. It's just good to understand how you function. Yeah. I like ideas.

A simple entry

Lately the long-lost introvert inside of me has awoken from her slumber and has called me away to quiet secret places. I don't feel like broadcasting my internal process to the world. Not really. Instead I'd like to hold my process close to my heart. I imagine that it looks something like a small moon, glowing warmly beneath my fingers. I don't want to share it—not yet. Just know that I'm in a very good safe place. I'm not always comfortable, but that's just a part of growing.

I will, however, give you insight into some of the things that I will be giving my time and heart to for the next 6 months or so:

1. Myself
2. Ballet with Hannah
3. School (more time, less heart)

As always, I also desire more of God. I hope and pray for the grace and desperate desire for extended times of prayer. I admit that I'm a bit afraid that I won't be able to do it, but I'm choosing to disagree with discouragement tied to legalism, and instead choosing to agree with my deepest desire to just see God's face; to touch his hands, and to know his heart. It's what I desire above all other things.

"Hush now, and look at me"

How many times has the good spirit brought me here? How many more times will it take before I finally stay?

Again and again. More and more. Closer and closer. Set my heart ablaze. Help this small flowering tree deepen its roots and grow a little taller, but know that a little is never enough. And so the ache pursues me, and I welcome its pursuits.

Time to be alone for a while. Alone, but never alone, resting in the arms of the one I love most.

Little Albus

I have always wanted to see a wild hummingbird up close. Last week, I got to hold one in my hands.

Ben & I found a tiny, stunned hummingbird lying on the garage floor the other day. It looked like he had gotten trapped in the garage, then nearly knocked himself out by trying to fly thru the glass window pane. I put a pair of garden gloves on, but he was so small that I was afraid to pick him up for fear of crushing him. So we slid the little guy onto a piece of paper and carried him to the safety of our garden where he could recover beneath my bleeding heart bush.

I, of course, took pictures. He held very still for the pictures. I think he thought I was going to eat him.

Heavy shoes

I have to admit: I'm sick of this charade—wearing shoes that don't quite fit. They were never meant to be mine in the first place, yet I try and I try to make them the right size. Instead, the empty spaces between skin and suede amplify the squelch of these awkward attempts to move forward. My, my; don't these shoes feel heavy.

Where is joy? Where is weightlessness? Where is freedom? Where is hope?

Discouraged by the weight of what the world expects, I bear the burden of these doleful soles; this wanton destiny. How unnecessary.

My heart pulls me towards lost loves: music, dance, drama, art, writing. How I wish to find my way back.

"Come to me—just come to me."

Naughty Jokes

Gotta love naughty jokes with great friends. :-)

More than good enough

I remember the first time that I thought that I wasn't good enough. I was in fifth grade and the teacher had asked for three volunteers to make three different journals for some kind of class project. I raised my hand, probably with a huge, excited grin on my face. I loved making things.

I got home that afternoon and began to search the house for cool things that I could use to make my journal. I found some strong cardboard for the covers in my dad's studio, and some awesome fourth of July fabric from my mom's closet to cover the cardboard with. I punched holes in the cardboard after gluing on fabric, then found some ribbon to tie the covers and pages together. The result was a thin, but sturdy, notebook-sized journal. I even tied the end of the ribbon around the end of the pen so that you would never lose the pen. I was so proud.

I couldn't wait to show my journal to the class. I was sure that they would love it. I probably even imagined all of the great things that they would say about it, and how happy they would be because of what I had created. When I got to class that morning, the two other girls already had their journals out. My heart sank when I saw them.

They were beautiful: nice and thick with soft, stuffed, beautifully embroidered covers. One of them even had lace. I felt…bad. My stomach churned and my eyes fell to the ground as I realized that my journal looked small and ugly compared to these two, handmade gems; it looked like garbage.

Then my teacher and classmates asked me where mine was. I felt a pang of regret and shame as I considered what everyone would think when they saw mine; suddenly the things I imagined my classmates saying about my journal were quite different. So I lied. I told them that I didn't make one: that I forgot. After an awkward pause, the teacher asked if one of the other girls moms would want to help her make another journal. Rachel happily accepted.

Nothing could peel my eyes off of my feet. I hated my stupid journal…

Later that day, a pair of my friends got my to confess that I had made a journal. I reluctantly showed it to them. They thought it sucked.

What I had to offer was not good enough: my creativity and enthusiasm didn't cut it. Somehow, I unknowingly came to the conclusion that I wasn't good enough, and that mentality stuck with me as I grew; the lie only growing larger and deeper.

God is the one who reminded me of this event. I had no memory of it until he gently brought it up. I cried as I relived the pain and embaressment. I cried even more when God told me what He thought of my journal. He said He loved it. He loved my creativity. He loved my enthusiasm. He loved me and was totally and completely delighted with my creation and the heart behind it. He would have framed my little journal and hung it on the wall in the most public room of his house, just so that He could brag about me when people asked about it.

Man does that wreck me. I crumble whenever I think about it His wild, enthusiastic, boundless and unconditional love for me. What I do is more than good enough—I am always good enough. Ah! It almost too much to take sometimes.

Thank you for you love, God; Papa. I don't understand it. Please wash truth over my mind, heart and spirit. I function out such a weave of lies. I want to be confident in the truth about myself, and about your character. You are so good. I love you. :-)

Badges tucked in the journal of his soul

I recently had a dream that I thought is worth sharing. Like so many of my meaningful dreams, the meat of this one was sandwiched in between the hazy nonsense typical of most dreams. In this case, I think the non-sense had something to do with Madonna and the cast of Heroes…

Like the clear rays of sunlight after a sudden break in the clouds, the surprisingly relevant and meaningful chunk of a dream emerged, abruptly interrupting the randomness of the Madonna/Heroes storyline.

Ben ran up to me with a wide, glowing smile on his face. He was so excited. He lifted a small journal into my view: the journal had a soft, suede leather cover, and it was about the same size as his hands. He opened the journal and said "look!" then he flipped through the pages. When looking straight down at the pages from above, each of them had a deep cut-out in the various shapes, each containing a badge of some sort.

The cut-out look of the pages resembled the "flask in a book" idea, except instead of masking a desire to drink with a desire to be "holy", the badges on each page were real badges that Ben had achieved through his personal and spiritual growth. The badges acted as mile-markers for his growth. The journal is like the journal of his soul and spirit.

When viewing the pages from the side, they appear to have the same weight, thinness, and bendability/turnability as an average 20lb page that you would find in any book.

I didn't really see what any of the badges where or even really what they looked like as he flipped excitedly through the journal to one of the final pages—he was flipping through the pages way too quickly in excitement.

We got to the last filled page in seconds. On this page there was displayed a badge that Ben had very recently earned. I don't know if I actually saw what the badge looked like, because I really can't remember it, but I knew exactly what it meant. This badge marked Ben's ability to effectively lead his family.

Then he said "Look! There are only two pages left!" Sure enough, only the last two pages were left unfilled. Somehow, I saw the next page, and on it there was an a deep cut-out in the shape of an open book.

My strong sense about this dream is that it is an encouraging peek into Ben's spirit as it is growing and has grown. When he showed me the badge he had just earned for learning how to effectively lead his family, I realized that it's true! He has learned how to lead his family. He's totally ready to lead.

I also knew that he was going to promptly begin the next stage of his growth, which is open-book shaped…I wonder what that shape means. Another very large portion of understanding that I had during the dream was what the end of this journal means: when Ben's growth places the last two badges in the last two pages, then he will be ready to be a father.

In this dream, he also knew that that was what the end of the journal meant, and this knowledge was part of his excitement. He was telling me that he's not ready for kids right now, but he will be soon, and he was so excited for that.

I'm not saying that the end of this season of Ben's growth means that we're going to immediately start popping out babies. I'm just saying that he'll be ready. That's all. Having kids hasn't been weighing on my mind or heart lately, but the desire is, of course, always there, no matter how buried it may be in my subconscious.

I feel very encouraged by this dream. I felt peace fall into place somewhere in my spirit when the dream ended—the peace clicked into place while I was still sleeping. I understand that he's not ready right now, but that he will be, and that just because he's not ready now doesn't mean that he doesn't also look forward to the day when we start having kids with just as much excitement and heart as I do.

Yes, Ben. You have grown a lot, especially in the last year. I love the way that you've grown. My trust and respect for you has grown a lot as well, and my love for you has deepened and settled; like the roots of a young tree finally strong enough to establish a permanent home.