Favorite Things Tag

So, I've been tagged by Embers, who is awesome, to share some pictures of my favorite thing in my bedroom. Soooo, I introduce to you ... Simba.

Simba is the oldest and wisest of the stuffed animals in my family's stuffed animal kingdom. In all our childhood games he was the kind, wise ruler of all the toys. I don't really play with toys anymore but Simba still lives on my bed, and he lets me hold him whenever I want. He's better than most cats in this respect. Also he never pricks me with his claws.

Simba has gotten "a lot of love" over the years, which is to say that he looks pretty beat up. As you can see in this picture, he has lost a lot of the hair on his back, and I seem to recall accelerating that process. He's also lost a lot of weight ... somehow ... but in spite of all, he is still a nice stuffed animal to cuddle, soft on the outside, yet pleasantly firm.

He's so mellow.

This is where you can usually find Simba, up near the head of my bed.

Fun facts: Simba's wife is my stuffed animal Nala, who does not live on my bed. Their four children are Rosie the bulldog, Tiger the kitty, Michael the horse, and Jordan the bull. All of them are biological children except for Kitty ... just kidding. She's their biological child, too.

All right! Now that I've shared pictures of my favorite things, I get to tag five other bloggers to do the same! Except I don't know five bloggers who haven't been tagged ... so I'll tag some others too and you can share the picshys on Google+ if you wish.

My sisters

Julie

Lady Gargoyle

Cassie

Anybody else who wants to!

Have fun! Adios.

Freedom

You found in your pocket the keys to my cage,
And came to let me go.
I raised my head and smiled at you,
But shook my head sadly, no.

"I've got so much to do," I said,

"I can't possibly get away.

But if you wait a little while,

I'll soon come out and play."

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Reality Check

You

are

important,

though not for the reasons you think.

It has nothing to do with how smart you are.

It has nothing to do with your talent, your sense of style,

your conduct, your looks, or your social status.

It's not because of the people who love you,

or the people you love.

It's not because of the great things you have done,

the lives you have saved.

No.

You are important because 

God made you,

and nothing you can do will ever change that.

What a relief.

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I found a swingset beneath the stars,

And I could not resist.

I swung as hard as I could,

Grinning into the wind on my face,

Flinging back my head to stare at the stars.

I told myself, if I could just swing high enough,

I could fling myself upwards,

And soar into the stars.

I could compare notes with the astronauts,

And we could talk with shining eyes about the things we had seen.

No one else would understand just how wonderful it had been.

It would be our secret

That we wished the world was in on

All of a sudden I had an urge to write a long passage in elvish ...

My handwriting is a lot more compact than J. R. R. Tolkien's when he writes in elvish. For those of you who can't read elvish, here's what it says ...

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all who wander are lost

Old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be King!

Which Lord of the Rings civilization do you think you'd fit into best? Pretty sure I'd live in Gondor ... yeah, I'd live in the city with all those tall, dark-haired people. (I know what you're thinking: But Faramir and Boromir are blond! Well, not in the book they're not. Look it up!)

Beauty Bittersweet

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""Pretty? Oh, pretty doesn't seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don't go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful--wonderful. It's the first thing I ever saw that couldn't be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfies me here' --she put one hand on her breast-- 'it made a queer funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache.'" ~ Anne Shirley, Anne of Green Gables

***

Do you ever feel a queer, exquisite pain when you see something truly lovely? I do. I'll see the sun shining through the trees, or the lights of Portland shining on the river at night, and the sudden rush of joy I feel will be mingled with what Anne very aptly described as an ache. Now, why do you suppose that is? Why should the sight of something so beautiful give me pain?

Perhaps it's the knowledge of the transience of the moment. The sun moves, light shifts and fades, trees are felled, morning dawns, and the mystery of night slips away. The beauty of an instant is shadowed by a consciousness that the moment will soon be gone.

I think this may be a part of it. But I tend to think that another part of it stems from a feeling that I am unable to fully appreciate what I am seeing. I cherish the hope that when the distractions of the flesh are gone, I shall be able to appreciate truth and beauty in a way that I never can in this fallen world.

Someday this world will be renewed. The beauty we see here on earth is just a shadow of the wondrous land to come. Those who have placed their faith in Christ shall be renewed, too. And with unclouded eyes we shall behold creation as it was meant to be.

I can't wait.

September

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I hope you were out in the mellow light

Between evening and afternoon.

I hope there was not much else on your mind

Except that the sky is blue.

I hope you stood for a moment there

With the breath of fall on your arms

I hope you breathed in the golden air

And carried with you its charms.