Dateup.

Erm, yes, it has been a length of time or time since last I posted, but I are still alive. God is good :)

Project: cutting up old tshirts, crocheting the strips into an oval-ular rug. It's maybe 3' x 1' right now, but I'm not really good with numbers, so we shall see what it really is never. : )

Finished a series Lauraine Snelling wrote set in MEDORA -  Rather good, but I want to go visit TRNP now like whoa.

Flew a kite with David.

planted some peas from Goodwill and they have sprouted.

learned a lot with other females at / through "Far Above Rubies" with West Cannon chicas.  Totallilly up my alley=) facts / hints, etc. coming soon perhaps. we have a huge binder-full.

Deuteronomy has a lot in common with Romans :)

i propagated some rhubarb and now have 5 plants that made it! :)

Isaiah and short-term ministry

So much has happened lately - it always does (or so it seems) when one is learning more and more daily to trust the Abba.

I have about 115 hexagons sewn together, and about 25 "flowers" (hexagons sewn into groups of 7) finished and waiting for a bit until I can attach them to the quilt top.  I am shooting for 2,000-3,000 hexagons total, and I want to have a scalloped edge (made from the hexagons). It might take forever, but I've had a few easier sub jobs of late that make the sewing-of-flowers part happen.

:) 

nb: I've been reading through Isaiah with David on the nights that school hasn't whelmed us, and it's been good to have someone to bounce a Major Prophet around :)   Isaiah's been one of the books I've wanted to read, but always seemed to muddle up in my head, so *the very day he asked me out!*  my darling boyfriend gave me a book on Isaiah (Weirsbe's Be Comforted) to read with him.  It's been so good! Reading about Emmanuel in chapter 7 was good, and not just because there is a real hope for Israel, but also because God is with me today because of Christ's work! It is such a blessing to have a man in my life who treasures my heart and is loving me the way Christ loves the Body!!

Yesterday I was subbing at Lowell MS and one of the dear 6th graders (from the middle of the room) said, "Miss Johnson, you look young. Can I guess how old you are? ...*(paused)*  I'm going to guess you're 22."
    oh, children.

David has helped me to see that substitute teaching is an acceptable ministry opportunity - even though I've pondered this before, it helps to have another human tell me it's okay that I may only ever see some of these kids once in their lifetimes. God can still use those one-or-so-hours to bring Him glory by how I interact with these children. 

Talking with Kim Walburg has also helped me to see something else:
    The kids that maybe are the naughtiest in the classroom (the ones that I end up scolding quite a bit during the day) are usually the ones that, at the end of the day, come up to me with a huge hug and tell me I'm the best teacher ever. ....  and this may simply be because I am trying to enforce proper discipline procedures when their own classroom teacher may have given up because of the naughtiness.

Herein is my hope -
 Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your deeds from before my eyes; cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause.

Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.

...the Lord along will be exalted in that day.

THE LORD OF HOSTS IS EXALTED IN JUSTICE, AND THE HOLY GOD SHOWS HIMSELF HOLY IN RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

note from a first grader

By mss. Johnson

I love that suBsutut Be coues she is niys and Denzel said a cus wrld and i got on pink an thay got low and we all most didtin go to recss Be coues thim oley me and Juleyn Be coues we wint to the Bathroom I was grat and I was Good and I was Good and Jakiya said the bitth wurd.
The End.

[on the other side of the paper]: love mrs. HOEKSTRA


my translation: [mind you, this is written by a first grader in a class of 22 where almost all of them are very, very little self-control, even for first graders...]

I love that substitute because she is nice and Denzel said a cuss word and I got on pink *[the teacher has a behavior system of colors, and pink is the highest] and they got on low *[this being, many of her classmates were quite naughty] and we almost didn't go to recess because of them*[maybe she thought this because I threatened they would be missing recess and working on sitting quietly - per their teacher's request!] only me and Julian because we went to the bathroom *[insert amazing self-esteem, or spelling practice?] I was great and I was good and I was good and *I'm not sure where this girl heard all the swears, but apparently I missed something in all the chaos they'd presented] Jakiya said the bitth [probably naughty] word.
The End. 


it was either written for me or the teacher, but it was on top of my stuff, so...
:)

padiddles

of all the small things in life, i believe the ones we chose to enjoy are the ones that can pass the time, unite souls, and spark us to better things.

David and I started a contest to see who could get the most padiddles (those unfortunate cars that for whatever reason have one of their lights out), and I have discovered that Grand Rapids is far more Dutch - translate, cheap - than Midland. I also discovered that it helps to pass the time between our visits, and gives us something to do with each other when we are a hundred miles apart.



Here is a sample (yes, I've been keeping track of a good number of the padiddles, and most of them were seen around Grand Rapids, unless otherwise noted):

12/31/10 - 7 padiddles (on the road from GRap to Midland)
1/1/11 - 8 padiddles (on the road from Midland to GRap)
1/2/11 - 8 padiddles
1/3/11 - 1 padiddle *that i recorded*
1/5/11 - 8 padiddles
1/6/11 - 11 padiddles

...and I've already found a few for today.


average west michigan padiddle count (plainfield and northland/East Beltline make up a LOT of this) = over 7 padiddles a day. *phew*

student quotes

I've been subbing at the same middle school relatively often these days. . . During my first day with one of these classes, after I'd been talking for a bit, one of the girls asked me if I was a flight attendant...
because

"you sound like a flight attendant," she answered to my "why?"

:D I had to crush her hopes.  sad day.

oda a la paloma (see Solomon's letters - ch. 2)

***************************************************por Amanda E. Johnson  12/4/2010


i am a dove:
fragile, pure, silent.

no one can see me where i hide
(hiding in the cracks, on the unseen ledges-
ledges so high off the ground
no evil can find me)
and i feel safe.

everything outside my little home
(on the other side of my cliff)
is frightening,
frightens me
and keeps me inside
safe, and warm.

i venture out for food
(very briefly, but oh, so hungry am i)
and a bit of fresh air.
satiated,
i arrive back in my crevice,
safe.
nothing can harm me if i do not move
and nothing can make me move
from the safest place in the world.


***
something startles me
(it is not quiet any more)
and i begin to shiver
quietly, though
i shiver quietly  and listen
with trepidation
for whatever has broken my solitude.

a knocking
and a voice
gently, gently rapping
on the outside of my haven.

i take a curious step
(toward the entrance of my dwelling)
and am startled when a flash
(of rainbow color)
strikes my eye
and i look downward to see its origin-
caught by the sun, a bright diamond
with so many facets
has attached itself to my breast.

the knocking continues.
as i take another step closer
(closer to the outside world)
several more flashing jewels
appear on my soft feathers,
encrusting them with beauty.

by the time I reach the ledge
i am covered
(not a single feather is left on its own)
in jewels so bright that rainbows dance
with every step i take.

i can finally hear the words
(an not just knocking)
as they are being spoken -
a man is speaking,
with gentle tones and a soft voice.

"come out,"
says he.
"it's beautiful out here.
there is no more winter,
no more rain,
no harsh winds to buffet you.
(it is spring,
after all - everything is so very new!)
Come out,
my darling,
my love.

let me see your face,
for it has been hidden so long.

let me hear your voice:
i am sure it is the one i have always heard in my dreams.

come out, my love.

let me see you,
let me hear you,
and come with me.

come out."

with each loving word spoken
i barely notice what happens next:

a hand comes closer
(and closer)
and pauses at the very edge of the cliff.

when he stops talking
i look up,
up,
(up into his face)
and see the truth of his words
is true.

one more step -
no, two -
and i am in his palm,
sparkling, quivering and timid.

"behold, you are beautiful,
so beautiful,
my love!"
(his voice echoes
through my hollow bones
and the shaking stops.)

i realize he has spoken the truth,
and spoken my beauty into existence.

calmly,
quietly,
i rest in his hand,
listening for his voice,
awakened by beauty-
of the spring,
of new life,
of a love so true,
and of my own newly discovered beauty,
for the first time in my life
i begin to sing.

Zeal for Your House will consume Me. . .

As a follower of the Messiah, does zeal for God's house consume you? (Ps. 69:9, Jn 2:18)  (When I write you / we / us / or I, I mean all of those jointly...) 

I was reading this morning from John, and remembered the Psalm that ended up describing Jesus in that way from my study last week, and decided to share some thoughts. 

As Americans in a freedom-of-religion era (whatever that may mean), we have a responsibility to uphold the truth as highly and as steadily as we can. if that means taking extra time to take care of the church, what are we to do? As a follower - imitator - of the Messiah, the Rabbi, the Holy One of Israel, how are we to view God's house? 

I know we don't actually have The Temple in Grand Rapids / Chicago / Dallas / well, anywhere *Rob used slash in a meeting last night and credited it to me, but really, I blame Emily R. Smith...* but even though we don't have a physical Temple, what are we to view as God's house besides the place we go to partake in corporate worship? 

I know, I know - we have a few churches in each neighborhood. Rather, far more than that. 

How often, though, do we really care about the building? Jesus was zealous for His Father's House - so much so that he caused a ruckus, a hullabaloo, an ordeal. He didn't like the changes that were happening, and took action. Some people might not have agreed with Him - or profited from His actions - but He took action.

So when a church that you've chosen as "My Father's House" - even though you may not speak or read Hebrew or give sacrifices - has meetings, and people do not show up, should we also take action? 

How do we act about keeping the church clean?

How can we help support His House financially, or supervisionally? (I know, not a word, but it is, now...) 

Just some thoughts to get you started.




REFERENCES: JOHN 2, PSALM 69

3.15.2007

Going through old writingness while trying to find a novel I'd started a few years ago, and thought I'd share this :) 

enjoy! 

March 15, 2007

I am a people-watcher and a keeper of secrets. I spent many wonderful moments with my mother during my childhood doing just that – people-watching. 

            The people you observe come in all shapes and sizes and colors; no one is left out, and every single person has a story all their own.  I’ve often wondered what might happen if I were to actually write down my observations as they play out in the reality of life. 

            Take now, for example. I am riding the bus to campus.  The buses that take people here or there – from campus to home, home to work, or random, sundry appointments – are often more colorful that a midsummer sunset over Lake Michigan.  White-skinned people are a minority here, and the most beautiful shades of brown, olive, and peach surround me – me, a blonde-haired, green-eyed twenty-something with skin that tans easily in the few summer months Michigan claims as its own. 
            I like watching how people talk on the bus.  There are two women about my age towards the front of the bus; both are talking with their hands and eyes, and laughter occasionally erupts from their mouths.  I’m not really eavesdropping, but they’re discussing how difficult it is for one of them to get a raise at the job where she works. 
            I love watching the Asian women on the bus when they’re deep in conversation.  The younger woman has her hair parted in the middle and pulled back with a plastic barrette, and the older woman has her hair in a fashionable haircut.  Their eyes are the most attentive, and these two women barely raise their voices above a library appropriate level.
            Then there is the occasional serious-type student, the person-in-the-crowd you don’t notice when they’re in-the-crowd, but as soon as they step away from the masses of humanity surrounding them, you can see them for who they are. This man-my-age across the aisle from me, for example; he’s reading a textbook full of built-in highlights, and nothing seems to be distracting him from studying – nothing, and everything.  From what I can see, he’s just as interested in the conversation of the two ladies in the front of the bus, which has shifted from job raises to blood pressure, and has moved on to talking about someone joining the Peace Corps.
            This is where I get off to wait five minutes for the next bus.  

manly men, and sheep

It was encouraging tonight - especially tonight - to see an auditorium full of men. Assuredly, there were also women present (myself included), but a room almost full of men brings such ... hope. What a future to have so many manly men of God in the same room, thirsting for the words of the Creator / Shepherd, and desiring to be strengthened for better toolship. How encouraging to know that, like Elijah, there are "others out there." Although I am not a man nor am I a pastor, it was a blessing to be a part of such a large group of men seeking Him this evening, and being part of what will be infinitely better some day soon. What a blessing to be a part of the Body, when voices lift souls up to the throneroom, and the one Voice that needs to be heard is heard ever-so-clearly by the ones He has chosen. Praise Him for being such a Creator, and such a shepherd that - foolish though it may appear-  chose to die for the creatures for whom He was caring, or, as Carson so humanly put it:

"I am the Good Shepherd... [Christ] gives His life for the sheep, then comes back from the dead and secures them!" 

Post 124 - Unintentional Restaurant Review

For Labor Day, I went to linner at the Twisted Rooster with Dan (who drove all the way up from Illinois) and then to the Frederick Meijer Gardens. The Twisted Rooster - where O'Charley's used to be right next to Applebee's on the Beltline - is a unique restaurant. It reminded me of the restaurant Lester, Jenny, and I went to in Mexico in our condo - not nostalgic, but trendy, hip, individualistic. The music was pretty modern and sports-barrish, but not too loud to have lots of great conversation with a neat guy. We arrived at the TR around 3pm and were promptly seated. We had about a 10-minute wait before anyone came to ask us about drinks, though. bua haha... Our server, when he came (yay!) was very friendly and helpful. We both ordered the Twisted Mac'n'cheese, a penne with asparagus, tomatoes, and a parmesan crackery crust on top. It was fantastic - not spicy, really, but quite filling. The best part was the several times when our server came by to check on us and Dan took his time answering - I think that made him nervous or something, and before we left he asked if we were food critics or something and if I was going to write about it on my blog. I said no I'm not a food blogger, but a teacher ... (he's going into secondary ed, hurrah teachers!), but now I feel like I have to write about our experience.

The Twisted Rooster is a great place to eat - we only looked at the lunch menu, but prices were reasonable and the restaurant is tastefully and fun-ly decorated.
Go check it out!