What do you do when a friend turns on you? When you did everything you thought you were supposed to do, but the very thing that you thought you were doing right ends up being the thing that makes them turn away from you?

I wish I could say I have the perfect life and that this has never happened to me. But that would be lying. You see, telling the truth was the thing that I thought I was doing right. But I guess I gave the wrong answer. And, you know, the answer I gave wasn’t necessarily the “right” answer. But I thought, better to give a wrong answer than to lie. I don’t know. Maybe I should have just not answered the question.

But my drama isn’t the point. I found comfort. I am finding comfort. As a Christian we hear a lot about going to God and the Bible in times of trial. Sometimes it just seems old and overblown. I mean, really, how in the world can an invisible God help me with my problems? You can’t even prove He’s real. But I know that He is real. He has given us a precious gift: the Bible is His Word. He has given it to us to show us the way to salvation, but He doesn’t leave it there. Through the Bible God comforts me when I’m going through hard times. Today I found myself going to Psalm 136. It has a lot of repetition, but sometimes repetition is what we need. Sometimes we need to hear things a dozen times or more before we get them.

O give thanks unto the LORD; for he is good: for his mercy endures for ever.

O give thanks unto the God of gods: for his mercy endures for ever.

O give thanks to the Lord of lords: for his mercy endures for ever.

God is Lord, He is God. I serve a good God whose mercy (elsewhere translated as “steadfast love”) endures forever. His love never ends. He will always love me. And from that I can take comfort. Friendships may wax and wane and grow old or not, but my God will always love me.



Last night my choir had its semester concert. We sang Wilberg, Chilcott, and a band new piece by Dan Forrest, among others. Because of the small size of our performing venue we sang the program twice, and the second performance was webcast. I am told there were 2,000 computer connections!

God gave me the special gift of a solo. The Chilcott “Jubilate” consists of 7 (I think) pieces all tied together by their sacred texts. The second of the set, “Song” (my solo), uses the words of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Prayer.” It was a delight and a privilege to sing this beautiful text.


Thee, God, I come from, to thee go,           

All day long I like fountain flow    

From thy hand out, swayed about  

Mote-like in thy mighty glow.  


What I know of thee I bless,      

As acknowledging thy stress        

On my being and as seeing  

Something of thy holiness.   


Once I turned from thee and hid,     

Bound on what thou hadst forbid;       

Sow the wind I would; I sinned:

I repent of what I did.      


Bad I am, but yet thy child.   

Father, be thou reconciled.      

Spare thou me, since I see               

With thy might that thou art mild.   


I have life left with me still 

And thy purpose to fulfil;  

Yea a debt to pay thee yet:   

Help me, sir, and so I will.           


But thou bidst, and just thou art,      

Me shew mercy from my heart         

Towards my brother, every other   

Man my mate and counterpart.

One Ring to rule them all

Have I ever told you that I am a shameless Lord of the Rings fanatic? Because I am. I first fell in love in Jr. High (oddly enough, when I was first exposed to LotR I strongly disliked it. But I soon saw the light). My favourite character is Eowyn. She is so alone, a woman in a world of men. Something deep inside me resonated with her. Once upon a time I had the brilliant idea of writing a novel about her – mostly a collection of short stories that tied in with the book and movies. While I never got very far with that (who knows what might happen in the future), I was able to write a few short stories, vignettes, if you will. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Now . . . I Must Die


There were so many!  Théoden and his knights charged into the teeming mass of Southrons and made short work of them.

But not without costs . . . many men of the Mark lay slain. So many were dead . . . .

The sky was darkening – strange, for it was not yet midday. But before anything else could happen her horse threw her.

Scrambling to get up . . .  and then she saw him – Théoden lay crushed by Snowmane, and the fell beast was coming to devour him. All had gone from this dark place. None were left to defend the king, save this shieldmaiden only, and she ran not from the dark madness that had mastered many men, the darkness of this tall Shadow’s eyes.

“Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!” For her uncle, like a father to her, was dead.

But then the king of the Nazgûl spoke, and his voice was cold and terrible, “Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey!  Or he will not slay thee in thy turn.  He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shriveled mind left naked to the Lidless Eye.”

Her despair deepened, but she strengthened her will, for here, defending her uncle, she would depart this life.

As she drew her sword she spoke: “Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.”

“Hinder me? Thou fool.  No living man may hinder me!”

No living man . . .  but I am no man, and perhaps I may impede thee! Fell laughter came with this thought, the laughter of one who is unafraid, of one who will soon die. “But no living man am I!  You look upon a woman.  Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter.  You stand between me and my lord and kin.  Begone, if you be not deathless, for living or dark undead, I will smite you if you touch him.”

The shape hesitated, but his mighty steed rushed at her to crush her in its jaws.

I will not die by this beast, but by the hand of the Ringwraith who sits atop him. She hewed its neck, and waited as it fell. Now the Nazgûl stood alone.

She knew this would be her death . . . .

He shrieked, a scream of hatred of all living things, and hurled his mace. Her arm was shattered, her shield broken. As the Lord of the Nazgûl towered over her slight form she knew that now she must die.

To be slain by this enemy would bring no dishonour  . . . .

But suddenly he faltered and fell, and a scream of pain escaped his lips.

Arise now and slay this monster, chief of the Enemy’s slaves! Destroy this Ringwraith and have done with him!

She rose, trembling with exhaustion, and with all her remaining strength drove her bright blade into the Shadow before her. She realized her weapon was disintegrating before her eyes, and the Black Menace falling to the ground. She perceived everything in the world in that one moment, but in that moment only, and as the blackness took her, she knew that now she could die with honour.


All quotations are taken from the Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King, Book 5,

Chapter 6 – The Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

Easter Egg fun

I know this is a terribly late post…but better late than never, right?

I love decorating Easter Eggs. It’s something me family always did together when I was a kid. And this Easter I decided the time had come to do it again. Only, by the time I had made it to the store, it was Sunday afternoon, and they had already put their egg-dying kits away. So I decided to make do with what I had: crayons. It turns out that freshly-boiled eggs take Crayon very nicely! Here are some of the results of my experimentation. 🙂

My roommate last year gave me a very colourful dress. Apparently she thought I could pull it off. I wear it with my cowgirl boots 🙂

We have a running joke in my German class about a man-eating tree (Menschenfresserbaum). I like to draw him on the chalk board. The most recent addition is a man-eating flower (Menschenfresserblume).

In performance class a lot of Freshmen end up singing a quiant little song called, “The Green Dog.”

“If my dog were green,” the narrator asserts, “I never would be seen without a sea-green bonnet…”

My dear little plant. His name is Laurence Olivier – named, of course, for the actor.

And that, my friends, is all for the day. Have a happy Friday!

Easter eggs and bunny rabbits

Easter. A time of family, friends, and chocolate, right? But did you ever wonder if there was anything more to Easter? How did the holiday start? Why do we still celebrate it?

Easter began as a Christian holiday – literally, a holy day. For those of us who believe, Easter marks the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. But, logically, in order for Jesus to come back to life He must have first died. Jesus did die. He was beaten and mocked and tortured before His death, and yet as He was dying He prayed for God to forgive His murderers. You see, Jesus was innocent. He was not a criminal. In fact, He had not even committed the nominal, ordinary, every-day sins that you and I excuse so often. Jesus was completely sinless. He was God before you or I ever existed, and He loved us so much that He wanted us to be with Him forever in heaven. But there was something in the way of that: our sin. God is so holy that He cannot even look on sin. He has to punish it – if He didn’t, then He would no longer be Himself, no longer be God. But He is so awesome that He figured out a way that He could have His cake and eat it too. God sent His Son, Jesus (also God) to die for you and me so that we could be in heaven with Him forever after we die. Isn’t God awesome!? All we have to do is accept His gift. No “good works” are necessary. There is absolutely no way you can earn your way to heaven. God has done everything that needed to be done. And now he holds out His hand to you and me asking us, “Will you accept My gift?”

Within its pages

The thing about books is that they’re real. And not in the sense that they aren’t a figment of my imagination. Not in the sense that they are, in fact, solid entities. No, books are even more real than that. When I pick up a book, whether it be fantasy or biography or even instruction that book comes alive to me. The girl who never really lived – I become her. I live her life, share her sorrows, and take pleasure in her joys. I see life as it was through the eyes of the WWII veteran. And the way outlined in the instruction becomes the only way to do it – unless, of course, I take the opposite point of view and argue with the book. But you see, that is exactly how it works!!! How does one argue with an object that is supposedly inanimate? How does one know and even become the little girl or the old man who may never have existed, and that I have certainly never met in the flesh? It’s because books have a life of their own. All they need is for a reader to come and open them up, and then they divulge all their secrets. Or at least enough to make us come back again and again. It does not matter if we come back to the same book or merely continue reading other books. Books are not selfish. They don’t envy the book that is worn to tatters because it has been so loved and read that it is falling apart. They all share in the joy we find in their worlds. Because they are alive.