tree fellin

 nothin like a workin man.

  

  [may i point out that 

neither of our little herb gardens

were harmed in the fellin of the tree even though

they were easily in the line of it??

instead, it fell smack in between them.

yeeeah. impressive. ]

when the boys come home

there's no mistaking it.

 

s.w. day

  

   some days are star wars days. 

like today.

solo.

he's my man.

{wish}

i'm told i wasn't born in the wrong era.

 second guessing that.

at least in the man arena. 

 i'm convinced that had i been born 

in 1900 some time 

clive would've been my man.

and if i had jumped into the life cycle just a few years earlier than...

{sometime}

and had been born in a galaxy far far away

solo

would've been my last name by now.

but i wasn't.

settler.  

settler settler.

settling.

recalled to life

                                    

  'what's a resurrection man, father?...has to do with diggin up bodies, don't it?'

 i find it amazing that we've been given hope, a new life, new purpose, new vision, a new man.  that we've been chosen, greatly loved.  yet, at the first trip from satan that sends us sprawling face to face with the fresh grave of our old man, we lose sight; and if you struggle with pride as i do, then your first impulse is not to look away, but to look deeper.  for we see ourselves, our corpses lying there and are appalled.  we think 'surely that's not me.  i know i can't be as ugly and repulsive, so eaten with that sin cancer for me to be as bad as all that.'  so we become discouraged, and again pride refuses to yield and we begin digging, searching to find something redeemable in the filth, attempting very hard to perceive ourselves as a little less bad.  'if this is me,' we think, 'then i know there's something better than what i'm seeing on the surface...i distinctly remember having done some good, and having been noble and kind - hearted.  i've done some very good things, yes i have, so they'll see that.'  and we start calling to mind all the  thoughtful things we've done, all the times we've sacrificed, held our tongue, prayed, wept, labored for others.  problem is, we generally create a bigger mess when we commence our grave - digging than when we started and soon find ourselves deeper and deeper into a mire of pity and slough of despond.  but oh, doesn't satan love it?  it's one of the easiest lies for us to believe, that when we are discouraged if we look a little deeper we'll surely find some perk about ourselves that will cheer us up; when really, we're poking around our old corpse, carefully dissecting, probing, examining the rotting stink that we call our old man.

    a much more simple way and less messy is, when we find ourselves eating dirt  and we know we've done wrong, been sharp, acted in pride, given in to temptation or the countless other traps satan uses on our weakness, instead of looking at your corpse, look at the cross. look up. look at the blood.  Jesus didn't agonize in vain; you were greatly loved, accepted, forgiven.  and that is what satan cannot stand for us to think of and call to mind and rejoice in.  but that is the truth: we've been called to life and there's no reason to spend this one staring at our remains and living in a grave yard.  of all things, of all people, we are incredibly blessed. 

              

i wonder if they will still let me dig in the tresure chest..

 for several months now, i've been wanting to go to the dentist [note: we suddenly care about these things when we grow up].  i have been disappointed because i couldn't see when my artist's fare would allow for me to go. but the other night when i came home a wonderful thing happened in my life.  i was eating my dad's chili { gooood } when he told me he'd signed me up for dental insurance. {yes. i know, i really should have been the one researching my own insurance policies and figuring this out for myself ....but i didn't.}  now, you can imagine my thrill.  or maybe you can't.   it was like robinson crusoe's ecstasy at seeing his ship coming to take him away...i was being taken away from an island of undentisted teeth forests to a paradise of teeth rich people. i imagine this place to be  where all the people walk around with sparkling gastonly smiles, and who constantly slide their tongues across a white, squeaky set of teeth.  as defoe would say i was 'delighted to the highest degree'.  ever since then, i've caught myself staring into space wondering what the dentist would say if he saw my teeth right then. i  imagine his wince and a deep etched frown. so, i have taken special pains to be particularly mindful about keeping them in unreasonably good health.  this has been made easier to do since anne has told us that sugar ferments and the acid causes deterioration of our teeth. 
[egh. i know. the truth is sometimes repulsive.] 
here, may i say that i don't understand those who don't floss regularly. let's face it: it's just plain gross not to. so if you have dental floss, use it.  it's one of those things in life you'll never regret.  and if you don't have it, then look around for a girl with long hair and use your ingenuity.  [it's not too far fetched... i imagine adam.  and we might as well get used to the thought now, for i doubt they'll be selling dental floss in the apocolypse.]
  to you, december 1st, i say wait for me, you dear canine day.  

i am coming.

 

i hope my nurses will be just like  
these motherly figures.

goooood morning

  

 chillin' with melia for morning music and blogging....good morning world!!!

morning is one of my favorite parts of the day.

it's hopeful, peaceful, quiet and yet,

there is a sense of building energy in facing the day.

'His mercies are new every morning'...i sometimes wonder if that could be one reason i enjoy it so much.

aghh..there are so many things to do in life!  good things  - meeting goals like climbing mountains, doing triathalons, running as many half-marathons as i want to in a year, 

having a ton of kids and helping shape their lives, being more adept at photography,  jumping off the bridge on hwy 36, doing 100 pushups at a time, fulfilling God's purpose for my life, finally figuring out ONE signature,  learning how to make a perfect recipe of baklava and ending up half as good a cook as my mama.

i want Jesus to be beautiful in my life and dad gummit!  i'm so far from where i want to be..

i was seven or eight, standing in the gravel parking lot of our church looking at all the 'big kids' who were going to pizza hut in their cars. i knew from that point just how being a big kid would feel.  it would feel empowering, liberating...you would know everything about life there is to know and have all the money you could ask for, and every barbie, gun and car you wanted plus candy - or anything else!!!! for goodness, sake, they're grown ups.  'once they hit that age, they have reached the destination and they cruise through life without all the cares i have...like how long it'll take t i finish school tomorrow ....or that my best friend can't come over for the third week in a row...ahh!!
poor me.'

but now, i'm here.  22.  and i find i don't know half the things i thought i would..why don't i feel i've reached the destination???  

huh. simple. i haven't.  

and i hope i don't forget it.  i hope that is the one thing that will become always clearer to me; 

this world is not my home.

to lose my life

 is to find Christ.
aaaaand as for all the things i hope to do???
well, do any of us really know what we will or will not accomplish?
   i  anticipate the challenge of finding it out.

love i hope to have

reconstruction of an old notion.

             I used to think of a humble man as someone who was stripped of all confidence, strength, backbone, and who donned more of an air of timidity and self-consciousness than that of a man seasoned with wisdom, integrity and courage.  If he had any, he hid it.   But observation, time, experience, books, have contributed to reshaping my thoughts on this.    I've been in groups before where there was that percentage who had an acute eagerness to supply the answer to any question, be the best at the activity, know the most on any given topic.  Now, the answering of the question, the striving to do well, the amount of knowledge one has and the desire to discuss would not be things separating the humble from the proud; rather, i believe it to be the eagerness.  It's that felt drive and energy compelling the person to perform, to prove.  So what about the humble man then?  Does he sit idly by with folded hands and fake diffidence? does he refuse to engage in competitions, debates, races, challenges? does he back down simply to avoid the possibility of appearing proud?  No. All that should be encouraged.  The difference is that the humble man would be confident and satisfied enough in his own knowledge, opinions, standards and achievements that when he does engage in these things he would not do so with the purpose of proving to others the abilities he recognizes in himself.  When he arm wrestles it will not be for the purpose of proving to the surrounding bystanders that he has enough strength to win;  he would do it for the sheer pleasure in the challenge itself and for the reward of satisfying himself if he wins. That when he participates in conversations it will not be for the chance of showing what he knows and even when the opportunity arises to display his knowledge on the matter, he could be content to listen to another expound on the subject instead of feeling compelled to take the floor himself, though he might have expressed it better.  That when he is reproved he will take the reproof and consider it;  that he will be thankful for the person caring enough about him to 'wound' him as a friend; that, instead of bristling in self-defense and attempting to justify himself, he would use it to help shape himself into a man that is better than he is.  'A humble man will learn, but you cannot teach a proud man anything, for he believes he already knows it.'  I look at the men in my life I esteem the most and recognize one thing that sets them apart as Great Men.  Humility.  I tend to think and write on things I myself struggle with and hope to grow in.  This is definitely one of them.

   C.S. Summed it up nicely in his words:  'Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call 'humble' nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody.  Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him.  If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily.  He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.'

this one's not for sale

    my awesome sister..  walking in from work today i set my bag down in my room, then squished on the couch with all the others to watch the debate on cnn. i think of us as more of a pack of puppies sometimes. we tend to pile up in dog fashion. [does mitt use oil on his hair?  i think he must drink it too.  and what is the meaning of 'mitt'?  what kind of name is that?  anyhow,] during one of the breaks i went into my room for pajamas when i saw on my nightstand a single yellow rose and a letter with it. that girl.   she has done something kind for me every month lately and doesn't say a thing - just does it.

in my opinion, she's the best youngest sister in the whole wide world.

                                                             . dawn, you're amazing.

 
  

well, if you put it like that

'love how i never get any mail nowadays.'
  melody pointed out to me,
'it's because you don't go to the library anymore.'

                                                           hm...point.

happy octobering.

                                                                        

            mm...fall...

sunday shpill.

 

meet the classic davis sister pose, folks.

 

guess there's nothing i don't 

like about october.

you know those people who are dedicated to their blog and keep it up

regularly and update it like they actually have a destined purpose in having a blog?  hm. well, that's not me. 

i didn't even like blogs... aaand then i got one. is that hypocritical?

well, here, i'll act like i've been a constant updater.

 i dropped my camera three times this week, haven't slept with a pillow in two weeks and haven't run in a month. chris has been reading poetry to me and moriah hunted me down and read c.s. 

i like it when she does that. 

as far as politics go, herman i like and perry has a winning smile, but has an arrogance that makes me forget he ever smiled in the first place. 

yesterday i saw a man in the middle of two fields. he stood on a dirt road in overalls and a straw hat and from his mouth puffed white curls of pipe smoke.  i took a picture of him in my mind and hung it up in my mental hall of portraits. this is 

a very big hall like one you'd see at mr. darcy's pemberley.

now i've about exhausted my impromptu session with blogging but i'll leave you with wisdom.  

a man in our church said to me, ' i'll give you some advice: 

when someone writes you a love note,

don't edit it for grammar and give it back to the person.'

i said i wouldn't. 

you probably shouldn't either.