4/13/2009

The Barn

This post is primarily for my parents. One of those bald eagle pictures that I took made it look like there is a barn on our property that isn't there. So I went back and looked through the rest of the images. Two others show the same barn and make it clear that it belongs to the neighbors. Unfortunately, when I left home this morning it was too dark to see clearly, so I guess you guys will have to go see for yourselves.

This is the picture that originally puzzled us. In the foreground is the eagle, in the middle ground is my mom walking on our hill, and it looks like a barn is sitting just on the other side of the hill- just below where our garden actually is.

This picture helps to show that the barn is actually much farther away. Too bad it is so blurry. The Winters' barn is probably a half mile farther from the camera than our place, so it is amazing that it could look so large in the first picture.
Oh- and don't get our silo confused with the one in the first picture. Ours has no red markings at the top and has a cross hanging on it.

Click on the picture to see the full size image, and look at the far right edge.

4/11/2009

Makeup Work


Back in college when I missed a week of class I had to do makeup work. This blog posting is my makeup work for the last two weeks of almost complete non-communication. My excuse is that I now live with a family in the house pictured on the right. So I spend most of my precious free time harassing my adopted brothers or going to their games or teaching them stuff or whatever, rather than nurturing my e-life. It's a good trade, but y'all get the short end of the stick.
Speaking of sticks, the family I live with is a woman and three goalies. The husband played goalie for NAVY back in the day, and now the older son is a lacrosse goalie and the younger son is a hockey goalie. And I, as an obsessive photographer, have been chronicling their respective rises to stardom... or something like that. Here they are:

The younger son in action

No wonder he keeps complaining about pulling things.

Go! I mean, STOP!

Denied!

Here is the older son in action against:

Intense!

Like Fran Tarkenton with a stick.

Lacrosse is like football without pads where the guys are allowed to whack each other with sticks. And for the goalie, it is like being a baseball pitcher who TRIES to get hit by every line drive that crosses the mound. A good high school lacrosse player can fling the ball 90 mph+ and it is harder than a baseball.

I also got out for a half hour photo shoot this week and got some shots of an old railroad about 4 miles from the house.




4/06/2009

Note to a Hurting Stranger

During my freshman year of college I came to a full understanding of the concept that my life was not about me. I have believed in God for years, and I have believed that God had some vague interest in me, but it suddenly occurred to me that if, indeed, there was a God, and if, indeed, He cared even a tiny bit what I did, then ultimately my happiness and desires and ambitions didn't matter. He is so much more important than me that all that really matters is figuring out what He wants me to do, and faithfully doing it. You would think that this revelation would have been unbearably depressing, but it has been exactly the opposite. I no longer have to worry about how I feel. I no longer have to worry what people think of me. As long as I am pleasing God, their opinions don't matter. I still listen to people. I still value their input, but if they wrongly criticize me I just forward the message to God, since the accusation is against Him anyway. And I have found that, happily enough, God actually wants what is best for me. By following His will I not only have a higher purpose, but I also have more fulfillment, and with it, pleasure.

I don't have to waste my time and energy looking for the next greatest temporary thrill. I have a higher purpose. I don't have to obsess over who is my best friend or wonder who cares about me. I already know. Jesus is my best friend.

Jesus loves you too.

Jesus is not a painting. Jesus is not a wooden figure in a church.
Jesus formed you in your mother.
He watched your birth with a huge smile on his face.
He has cried when you got hurt, he is furious every time someone abuses you. When you laugh, He laughs along.
You do a lot of things that make Him sad. Rather than hate you for them, He decided to take the blame and died for you in the worst torture the Romans ever invented. He came back to life, and now He wants to be your closest friend. All He asks is that you surrender yourself to Him, which makes a lot of sense, seeing as how he made you in the first place.


p.s. Why do I think this will help? I will use a short story to illustrate where I am coming from. I was tempted to become anorexic. It bugged me for a day or two, and it had a solid hold on my mind. Then I remembered that God made me the way I am for His glory, not mine. If He made me that way, then it is good for me, even if I don't think myself perfect all the time. Bang. It was gone. Completely disarmed. I had already wasted hours trying to talk myself out of it, slapping myself with logic, trying to deny that it was in my head. I could tell that none of it was working. But when I realized that the whole thing was based on a faulty premise- that my feelings about physical appearance were more important than stewardship of the body God gave me- the whole thing crumbled. Your description of finding ways to make yourself happy are similar. Happiness is a fleeting thing. It is dependent on your mood and can be heavily influenced by others. Instead, seek joy. Joy is found in a right relationship with God and it transcends your circumstances.