Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

That phrase hit me last night, just before I drifted off to sleep. 

The Father of Lights.

I can only sit back and think of all the wonderful lights I have known.  The light of the sun and stars, the soft light of the forest, the brilliant light glinting off the Atlantic Ocean, the heavy, sweet light of dusk, the flickering lights on the Christmas tree, the light of a candle, the light in someone's smile...in their eyes...

And yet...all these lights have a Father.  His beauty far exceeds that of anything which has been created.  All the light and glory which we have only glimpsed on this mortal soil is bound up and brought to completion in Him.  Such beauty is incomprehensible, unfathomable.

To see the Father of Lights.

My head can't contain the glory of the thought.

I Am Not A Tourist: Nellie's Blog

Whence is that goodly fragrance flowing,
Stealing our senses all away?
Never the like did come a blowing
Shepherds flowry fields in May.
Whence is that goodly fragrance flowing,
Stealing our senses all away.

What is that light so brilliant, breaking
Here in night across our eyes?
Never so bright the day-star waking
Started to climb the morning skies!
What is that light so brilliant, breaking
Here in the night across our eyes.

Bethlehem! there in manger lying
Find your Redeemer, haste away!
Run ye with eager footsteps hieing!
Worship the Saviour born today!
Bethlehem! there in manger lying
Find your Redeemer, haste away!

The words are poignant enough. You should hear them with a good arrangement of the music.

After seeing Narnia on Saturday, Claire and I went to search for a suitable Christmas tree. Neither of us had ever done this before, had no idea what the going rate was, and were, for all intents and purposes, clueless. We spent some time walking around, giggling, and ringing each other with Christmas wreaths before we got to the cut-tree section. The young man came out, rubbing his hands together in the cold, and asked us what we were looking for.

"Well," I said, grinning, "We're looking for something green that's shaped like this." I held my arms up in a pyramid shape.

Five seconds of silence. Then we all burst out laughing.

"Oh," he said, "We can handle that."

Twenty minutes later, Claire and I emerged with a tree that was indeed green, shaped like a pyramid, and had nice, soft needles that wouldn't poke our tender arms. Then we stopped at the diner and ordered hamburgers and fries, which we ate while looking out the window at the truck bed. We didn't want anyone to steal our fine tree.

So now it's up, looking very cheery indeed, all decked out in gold tinsel and our rather eclectic assortment of family ornaments. All the books from my childhood Christmases are set out, and there is a Santa figurine on the piano. I noticed today while I was playing a Patrick Doyle piece that Santa has his arms out in front of him, rather like the zombies in the cult classic Night of the Living Dead. I can't help but like the fellow the better for it -- it's truly hard to be a zombie in a living world.

But, att eight years old, I would not notice the uncanny resemblance to elusive movie ghosts and would enjoy Santa merely for his Santa-ness. I would stare out the window for hours and look at the Christmas lights twinkling in the depths of the horizon. I would wonder at the mysterious appearance of the Christmas tree, and I would believe--against all physical evidence--that an angel had decked it out in the middle of the night for the pleasure of my wide-eyed awe in the morning.

Now I buy the tree, get up at 3 AM to decorate it, and blog about it the Monday after. Growing up isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.

James 1:2-3

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.

1 Peter 4:12-13

And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.

Romans 5:2a-5

Counting it all as joy: the antidote to sickness, stress, exhaustion, emotional trauma, irritation, lack of time, lack of energy, humiliation, grief and apathy...anything that living on planet Earth can throw at me.

To participate in the sufferings of Christ? What an honor.

I am blessed. :)

I Am Not A Tourist: Nellie's Blog

I shouldn't talk to people now. I'm sick, stressed out, and I've gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours. When I'm sick, I'm either dull-witted and slow, scathingly sarcastic, or ornery as anything. This most recent flu has pushed me irrevocably to the ornery side, where I've been making friends and enemies for the past 24 hours.

Some solid food would probably do me some good. And perhaps a muzzle.

I Am Not A Tourist: Nellie's Blog

Finals week. Lovely.

Even lovelier with the flu.

To do:
1. Study Geography terms--look up locations.
2. Write two essays for take home exam.
3. Read final chapter of history book.
4. Go over notes for exam period.
5. Prepare two essay outlines for final exam.
6. Figure out what in the world needs to be done to my paper. Do it.

Then I'll be done. But it seems like a long way away.

Despite sickness, I've been downright ornery today. You won't get me, fever! I'm still incorrigible! Never let it be said that Nellie can't find something to be glad about!

I'll see you all when I surface on the other side.