Pictures!

A good, kind, and very talented gent named Scot Huber took pictures for us at the wedding, and here are a few of his favourites!

Hitched

I've gone and been hitched to this lovely lady! Isn't she beautiful!?! And kind, and funny, and generous, and ... oh, so many more marvelous and good things! God a blessed us both in each other, and we are very very thankful.

Frankly, we're both still in such a state from the wedding that we're a bit silly over it. I of course cannot speak for all the guests, but the whole event was just a joy for Anna and I. Our families came together and put on such a fun bash! And with so many close friends helping out with music and lights, food and more food, and more music, and signs and favors and decorations, and bouquets and photos... it was a night to remember, and an event worth celebrating all on it's own! We were so honored and thrilled beyond expression to be there, and to be so loved by all of the people in our lives. It was fantastic.

Anyway, I just thought I'd post and let the world know that my love and I are married, and overjoyed at the prospect of the rest of our lives together.

-Josh

Spin World, Spin On!

I have been inspired to post by my sisters, who have been so instrumental in my life and development.

I just came home from a movie which may be one more step in either direction for our culture: a step up and in, or down and out. It is artfully done, a remarkably accurate transfer from the pages of a comic to the walls of the worlds movie theaters. But for all that work of actors and writers, camera men, digital artists, musicians and other creative professionals all it is is a mirror. A very shiny mirror.

Both of my sisters posted on their present lives, both works dealing with their hopes and dreams. One speaking with hope about what she sees just around the corner: a relief from restrictions and a bit more freedom and support. The other writes about hopes and dreams still yet to be thrown into motion. The latter was not quite such a joyful and excited post, the realization of her dreams are a bit farther away. Still, I think they are no less solid than anything else in the world that surrounds her.

But all my certainty is for naught if I don't tell her of it.
So here goes:

Dear sister and first of friends,

You are right. All my studies in Psychology and human development reveal the same fact. We are amazingly powerful and distinctly fragile beings. Very few of us are aware of it, and often we hurt ourselves because of that. One little thing can break us; one wrong judgment can throw us off of our straight and narrow path. We do live on the edge of a knife, and that blade is so sharp it often tears through the fabric of our lives without our even knowing it.

But.
But our lives are also in constant motion. We do not stand still for even a moment, we are always moving toward a goal. And as we run we adjust our course as we grow more focused upon that goal. Just as a wheel grows harder to turn as it's momentum grows, so too we resist the forces that try and throw us off course.

You've mountain-biked, you know this principle. Dad taught us when we first started on the trails: "Pick a line and follow it, the bike can take you over more than you think it can." And as a runner you should have learned that it wasn't really the bike that took us over those rough trails, it was the momentum. Our momentum. We made it, purposed it for taking us down the line, to achieve our goals. And it took us there.

So, dear Sis', just keep going. You are fragile, but the purpose that God has gifted you with, which is found in your never faltering desire to achieve His goals, makes you infinitely powerful so long as you run for Him. And you do, so fear not and keep on keeping on. Your prized dreams await you!



That said, one last word on the film I watched today: it is a marvelous and creative work. A professional and masterful reflection on our society and what we have and may make of ourselves. A very shiny mirror held in the hand of a barbarian running at full tilt, not knowing where he's headed. The mirror is worthless if it cannot make that barbarian pause in mid-step and take a second look at himself.

If this film does not cause us to collectively pause and check were our society is taking us then it is as worthless as a pile of shattered glass and broken metal: a broken mirror, tossed aside by a mindless brute heading blindly towards ruin. Quite useless.




7I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing

-2 Timothy 4z;7-10

Flux, Return, Aspire

I was a dream in passing,
While leaving off this life
(If only for a moment's rest
out of th' infernal strife.)

I mossied with the flowers,
Took in a fickle fair,
Then dressed myself in all the best:
Before my God laid bare.

And then came Now's damnation.
Now I'm back to here.
And only hope to live in peace,
and not eternal fear.

Story III

It was dark.

Dark, but blessedly silent. I was alone in the place of my dream's birth.

Now, I'm not sure if you're personally aware of that place in the dark where dreams come from; Cool and crisp to those senses that still seem to work though no body is attached to which they might belong. At least, that is how it feels when it is not filled with voices of damned souls. This place in the cool dark of your mind is an embodiment of potential growth when your mind and soul are healthy and whole. When that place is peaceful, then you are at peace while there.

I lay there in that dark nowhere for a moment just enjoying the sanctity of the pure essence around me. I was lost in the joy of green growing things of the soul that soak in the the sun and rain of Heaven when I became aware of a sound. It was almost a voice, but somehow beyond my hearing. Though I could not repeat the words, for I know them not, when I listened only to that sweet sound that whispered in the corners of my mind I had the distinct impression that I was being called...

... but not knowing the language, nor the speaker, I could not reply. So I simply lay and listened. I knew the voice was speaking to me, and I knew somehow that it belonged to a lovely person. I was quite flattered as I lay there and listened to this comforting voice. I thought that perhaps I had somehow regained the power to dream, and that this was just the way that my subconscious was welcoming me back. I was quite pleased with myself.

Then the voice stopped.

Before I had the time to wonder at this I found myself no longer in the cool darkness of my mind, but instead under the shadow of a great cliff that loomed not twenty feet from where I lay. The cliff shot up at a straight angle from the ground, and climbed to what seemed like painfully sharp and unwelcoming points a vast distance above me.

This by itself most unsettling. The image these cliffs presented was awe filled; the combination of height and angular settings of rock made it seem as though it was all just a moment away from coming down upon me in all fury and haste to force my life from my body after scaring me out of my wits. (Strange as this may sound, I assure you that you would have thought something similar if you had been there alone and without any idea of what the place was and why you were there.)

I closed my eyes as soon as I had possession of my wits again. You see I was quite confused as well as frightened. This was not the sort of place I often found myself when I dreamed. I almost never was afraid while I dreamed, and as this was most definitely the state that I was in I was most disoriented.

I decided to try and leave this place for another, so I thought of a lovely scene filled with autumn leaves and a happy tinkling stream with butterflies flitting about above it. I then sat up with my eyes closed, prepared myself as best I could for whatever would come next, and opened them to see...

... butterflies! Lovely butterflies flitting about a beautiful little valley. A beautiful little valley with a happy tinkling stream flowing through it... as it sat at the foot of the monstrous cliff, now spotted here and there with clumps of moss resting on the rocks that still threatened to topple and crush me to bits.

I was quite confused.

Faith: the basis of fiction

Myth, or fiction in general, has always struck me in to the core of my understanding as being a blessing from God. However, I've never really been able to say why.

But tonight as I started to drift off to sleep after reading a well written book I was gifted with a bit of understanding.

The making of a new story, of a myth of any sort, (and all fiction involves myth,) saves us from the sin of pride while allowing us to still honestly seek the truth. For a Christian author, (being a tool of God) writing can become a freeflow of divine knowledge of a sort. Not a perfect understanding, but general outline of how miraculous and yet informed and purposeful the happenings of life are. A likely story has more power to create faith than what we would call scientific fact, though you can "prove" the latter and not the former. Faith is based on what could be done, not on what we can make happen.

The likely story, or myth, allows us an insight into miracles, grace and true love that cannot be comprehened in any way by a scientific study; for a scientific study is centered not around Truth, but us knowing the Truth. We are the center of that study. Whereas myth allows us to lose ourselves in wonder after the ways that God could work. It takes away the possibility for pride because the story is not about us: it's about the miracles that created the story, and thus centered around the Creator Himself.

That is why I like myth. That is why fiction is my favourite flavour of literature. Because it is centered around God, and worthless if it is not based on His grace.

Thief

In the darkness before dawn the shadow may move,
in the darkness the soft foot may fall,
in the darkness the watcher may wait at a distance,
in the darkness he may climb the wall.

In the shadows the dog may stir in it's sleep,
in the shadows the masked man may kneel,
in the shadows the gloved hand may ruffle the fur,
in the shadows no threat may he feel.

In the darkness the window may open itself,
in the darkness a figure jumps high,
in the darkness that figure may slip through the house,
in the darkness that figure may sigh.

In the morning the husband may wake from his bed,
in the morning he'll walk down the hall,
in the morning he'll see a window lock broke,
in the morning he'll examine it all.

In the morning that husband will check the whole house,
in the morning, in search of a thief,
in the morning a wife will cry in distress,
in mourning, and then with relief.

In the morning a couple who once was dirt poor,
in the morning they'll find a great gift,
in the darkness the burden of debt that they bore,
that darkness a shadow did lift.