All things bright and beautiful.

This evening I went stocking stuffer shopping for my littlest bro, Will. I walked in the store at 10:48pm and the store closed at 11. So I hurriedly squeaked along the isles looking for something sufficient to put in his stocking. Something that he'd like. Course, It'd have to be something that held a little meaning for him. Perhaps it might also need to symbolize an inside joke we had together. And then, obviously, it must be cheep--cause it's a stocking stuffer, for goodness sakes. Anyway, I wandered through the store; constantly on my mind that it would close in a few minutes.

After slowly scanning down an isle I found myself stopping at the intersections and staring around me; mostly staring at nothing. In a moment I'd be back to my mission--something for Will. Something he'd like. Then I'm staring again; this time I'm unconsciously watching a couple of women shop in the mens section:

"Yeah, he'd definitely like that."
"You think so? It does kind of look like him. Do you think I should get him this, or the socks we were looking at before...?"
"I say this. These are more his style."
"Yeah... Yeah, you're right. Okay. Good. That's done then."
"So lets think--we have the three boys, Emily and Jessie and then dad. I think we're done!"

Pretty soon I'm quickly walking through isles again, glancing at things; not really looking, not really thinking about the gift; thinking about the silence, how all of the roads were nearly deserted at this time, how the nearly full moon shone through the car on my promise ring.

Come on, Ellie. Just choose something!

I walk to the check out stands and squat down to look at the little wall of miscellaneous things they try to tempt you with as you wait in line to check out. A car freshener. Lip gloss. Nail clippers. Gum. Gum. More gum. I grab one of those barrels of gum. The spearmint kind.

I wander to the self-check-out and scan the gum, pay, take the receipt and walk out into the cold air to my car.

Empty roads. Fog stretches low over a frosted landscape, illuminated by a moon so bright it's all I can think about.

I care. No, really--I care.

Grumpy. Really grumpy. No cure. None.

Naturally the mind wanders to what you can do for others to make their holiday season brighter.

What CAN you do?

What's the balance between caring and overloading yourself?

How do you find those people who need cheering up the most?

That has sentence had a perfect amount of spaces and letters to perfectly line up with the sentence before it. That's crazy. Craziness, I tell you.

How come it's so much easier to get inspired than it is to act upon the inspiration?

Tradition!

One year later. Christmas is coming back. It's taking another 364 days, but in due time it'll arrive. And I'm glad to see it almost here.

So much of Christmas time for families seems to be centered around traditions. Stockings, presents, advent, Christmas Eve church service. Then there's all the little traditions your family comes up with. Coffee cake, oranges, sausages and coffee for breakfast. Stockings first in the morning. Presents after we eat. The sock hop--we get new socks, put them on and dance like it ain't no thang to the "Christmas Polka". Exchanging names for gifts. Wearing PJ's all day. Reading your new books and taking naps after the present wrapping is over for the morning. Going to Grandpa and Grandma's for a game night. Blowing a train whistle to wake up the house Christmas morning (that one is on the edge of getting vetoed--pretty sure the majority of the house, excluding Will, find it excessively annoying). Opening one present at a time. Listening to Christmas music from Thanksgiving until it's finally boxed and put in the barn.

Traditions are good. They're familiar. But is that why they're so good? Doesn't familiar get boring? And Christmas should most definitely not be boring... So what the heck is with traditions? You tell me.

Dear Norton Reader Book,

I'd appreciate it if you'd show up so I don't have to trudge to the book store with my head down to tell them I lost it. You wouldn't wish that upon me, now would you?

I thought not.

Thanks.

Your loving rental owner,

Ellie May Brain

I am thankful

oh so thankful, for the opportunity to go home and spend time with my family for a whole week.

Just Do It

Six years of age. You sit at the dinner table, a pile of cold green beans on the plate. There's nothing left; no one else at the table, all your potatoes and meat have been devoured. Just you and the green beans are left to battle it out.

Mom said to eat them. And no, she wasn't going to give you more potatoes to swallow them down with. You already tried that.

So you stare at them and you hate them. The longer you stare, the more you hate. And pretty soon you begin to look for ways out of confronting them. Put them in a napkin and toss it in the garbage. Throw them outside. Put them back into the pan.

But after all of those ideas are exhausted, you find yourself still sitting there staring at the uneaten heap of veggies.

--

It never occurred to me as a child that half of the pain in eating those green beans, was from putting it off for so long. What irony; that I thought it would be easier, or that it would "go away" if I ignored it for long enough. Ha!

I thought when I came to college things would be different. Don't know why. After all, it's not as if I transferred to another planet. Everyday there's something I don't wanna do, and everyday I sit at that table and plow through the same thoughts as I did eleven years ago: "Is there any way to get around this? This is stupid. Why should I do this? I'll just put it off for a while and maybe I'll forget about it."

However, I've started (after being told frequently by numerous sources) to make myself do the things I don't want to. Immediately. The moment I think to myself, "Oh I most definitely don't want to do that," is when its time for me to lace up my combat boots and get my rear in gear (as Papa is so fond of saying}.

And that doesn't just go for homework and the mundane tasks of everyday life, it also goes for those things I don't want to do because I'm scared of failure; or I'm afraid of judgment.

In the end, the more wasted time making up excuses and complaining about the problem gives me nothing but lukewarm green beans and lost time.

Christmas, Christmas, Christmas

I've been so in the mood for Christmas lately. Snow, hot chocolate, snow, chocolate chip cookies, playing in the snow, art projects, decorating, dancing around in our warm christmassy smelling house while the snow dances outside the window...

Ellie on a Wednesday evening:

Hmmm... I should do homework.

click click.... scroll.... click...

What? A Which Princess Are You Quiz?

Click... click... click, click, click...

Dear me, how time passes quickly.

Why don't men dress like this anymore?

I like this:

Quirky Quotes and Intriguing Trivia :)

The language of music

You randomly look at someone, pause, and somehow know exactly what they are feeling like at that moment based on their facial expression and body language.

The other day I saw someone playing the piano, they were completely zoned out--somewhere else--letting the keys slip beneath their fingers. I watched their face expression, and I knew exactly what they were feeling right in that moment. Didn't need to ask.

It's happened in choir too. When everyone hits a chord that is so incredibly clear and flawless that you and your neighbor turn toward each other in wonder. No words are needed--you both know.

Music is a language, and a dang good one at that.

Mmm, rain.

THE GREATEST ART from Hillsong Church on Vimeo.

Gonna learn this song.

A Quality of Life

Today I was reading My Antonia and found this passage:

"There was a basic harmony between Antonia and her mistress. They had strong, independent natures, both of them. They knew what they liked, and were not always trying to imitate other people. They loved children and animals and music, and rough play and digging in the earth. They liked to prepare rich, hearty food and to see people eat it; to make up soft white beds and to see youngsters asleep in them. They ridiculed conceited people and were quick to help unfortunate ones. Deep down in each of them there was a kind of hearty, joviality, a relish of life, not over-delicate, but very invigorating. I never tried to define it, but I was distinctly conscious of it. I could not imagine Antonia's living for a week in any other house in Black Hawk than the Harlings'."

It's good isn't it?

Tells Me So

Jesus loves me this I know.


What tells you so?

Definition of Worship: Ardent devotion; adoration.

---
Think about it.

To be in continual worship of God.

Ardently devoted.

In continual adoration of Him.


"I'm coming back to the heart of worship, where it's all about You. All about You, Jesus."

Advice From The Experts

I asked for some college advice from Will and Audge today...

Audrey: "Don't be afraid to tell people no. Like if your roommate makes a mess in your room, just say 'Hey, I keep my side clean'. Or if a guy asks you out, just say no. Don't tell him 'we can just be friends'. Say no."

Will: "Thou shouldest not smoke pot, and thou shall keep thy dorm room clean."

So characteristic of them.

Three Days

Three days of home sweet home. Time passes far too quickly; my mommy tells me that often. Perhaps it's okay that I feel ripped in two. Half is quite excited to step off the hardwood floor I've played on, ate on, slept on, most of my life and explore new nooks and crannies. The other half clings to the floorboards--like a child with a fever, the coolness is soothing, the boards strong and grounding, the hum of life buzzing through the woodwork puts the mind at ease.

Pain. Lots of pain.

Does reading your own writing always produce as much flinching and gritting of teeth as this? Oye. It's too much.

Will

The sun, sky and clouds concurred the other evening, and produced a sunset as I have never seen.

Will and I took the opportunity to take a walk. The more we walked, the greater in depth we talked, and the more I realized my little brother is no fool. What I once thought was little boy with endless energy and questions, is now an intelligent young man, with the capacity to think, feel, and express far greater than I ever thought one his age could.

When I spoke of the world we lived in today, he answered me as one who has examined it, pondered over it, and compared it to other ways of life.

Every insight he had tugged more questions from me, This couldn't be my little brother. He couldn't be this wise so young... could he? When did this happen?


Not to mention the compassion that springs up in his speech when I least expect it. He shoots a magpie, says he thinks it'll be fun. Immediately after shooting it he feels awful; doesn't ever do it again.

The kid has a future, and for the first time in his lifetime, I'm starting to realize just how bright it's gonna be.

Faithful To Me

This song is by the artist Jennifer Knapp. I believe she's spot on.

'All the chisels I've dulled carving idols of stone
That have crumbled like sand neath the waves
I've recklessly built all my dreams in the sand
Just to watch them all wash away
Through another day, another trial,
Another chance to reconcile to one who sees past all I see
And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you'd understand
You're the only one who's faithful to me
All the pennies I've wasted in my wishing well
I've thrown like stones to the sea
I've cast my lots, dropped my guard searched aimlessly
For a faith to be faithful to me
Through another day, another trial
Another chance to reconcile to one who sees past all I see
And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you'd understand
You're the only one who's faithful to me
You're the only one who's faithful to me'

It's so easy to be cheerful in the good times, and such a challenge to be so in the bad. Guess that gives us a pretty good idea about when a positive attitude matters the most.

All the days of the oppressed are wretched, but the cheerful heart has a continual feast.--Proverbs 15:15


A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit.--Proverbs 15:13


"This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." --Proverbs 15:13

Welcome, Spring!

Who has ascended into heaven and descended?
Who has gathered the wind in His fists?
Who has wrapped the waters in His garment?
Who has established all the ends of the earth?
What is His name or His son's name?
Surely you know!
-- Prov 30:4

You could sink into the sky today. That's how blue it was. So blue, that if you touched it, the color would blend into your skin and transform you into an Avatar.

Not knowing the answers to my questions about God is one of the the hardest things I've ever had to deal with.

Faith.

Oh Lord, give me courage to have faith. Amen.

Love Never Fails

Lately I've been thinking a lot about love.

Not the kind of love that teen age girls are infamous for obsessing over. Rather, the love of Christ. More specifically, the purity of the love of Christ.

A love that is patient. A love that is kind. A love that does not envy; does not boast; and it is not proud. A love that is not rude, nor self-seeking; is not easily angered and keeps no record of wrongs. A love the does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. A love that always protects, always trusts, always hopes and always perseveres. A love that never fails. (1 Cor 13:4-8)

This is the love. It is not founded on flirting glances, or silly games. You cannot buy it, and you cannot steal it. This love is born in adversity. This love is placed as a seed in every human's heart. Through darkness and light, struggles and successes this love grows. It is a love of intimacy. It knows you--and you will spend your whole life getting to know it. This is the love. We are proof of this love. And if we so choose, we are this love.

Adam

On Friday and Monday I get to babysit Rita Hepper's little boy, Adam. Best two days of my week.

It's Just the Little Stuff

When Audge makes a joke about me and looks at mom--eyes twinkling, grinning to her ears--for confirmation that it was, indeed, a good one.

When we're all sitting at the table eating dinner and Will states, quite matter of factly, "It's so cool that God gave me a low voice."

When--after Ty, Kelsey and I were attacked by bees--I ran yelling into the water and suddenly collapsed because of my sprained ankle, Carrie came to my rescue saying, "We will RE-distribute your pack!"

When Will--who spent his whole day working like a beast on our tree fort the whole day, never stopping--hits his thumb with a hammer and spends the next forty-five minutes walking around the base of the tree saying, "Ooh. hey guys? Guys, I think I gotta go back. Does somebody want to come back with me? Hey guys, my thumb really hurts. Will someone come to the house with me, so I can pour cold water over this?"

When Audrey--who had just drank about 36 ounces of Dr Pepper--says she "doesn't have to go to the bathroom" during a rest stop on a long road trip and Carrie madly orders Jeremy, who is cleaning the garbage out of the car, to, "Keep that cup. Cuz Audrey's gonna have to pee in it."

When Tyler sits on the couch in his living room, looking dazedly off through the window, while trying to keep up a conversation, and says, "Yeah... You know, it's just good times, and... you know, it's just good livin'"

Ahhh... Those are the moments.

I Hate That I Love This

The trick to liking something is just this: being around it/eating it/watching it/seeing it etc. all the time.

The more you see a cheesy TV show, the more you find you like it for it's ridiculous episodes.

The more you're around a slightly annoying little kid, the more you find you enjoy their little comments.

The more you eat whatever food you particularly don't like, the more you'll develop a taste for it.

The more you're around that crazy person, the more you realize there's more to them, and you just might find it in you to like them.

Let me explain. You may hate that person/food/thing/show at the beginning, but in the process of spending all your time and energy on it, you somehow come to a place of endearment for it. It's bad qualities become so well known that you come to love it because of those qualities.

Strange, but true nonetheless.

Audrey Rose

Matteo's photo shoot. :)

Fact:

Elbows are ugly.

Why: Because they are usually dirty. Also, because they are at the bending/breaking point in the arm, and the skin around the joint gets stretched, creating an unattractive bunching when elbow is not in use.

Reason for extra ugliness: the constant banging, scratching, bumping, bruising and and dirtying of the pointed joint.

Note of sympathy: I grieve for the poor elbow. It's the first to save you from a fall, the most likely to bruise and scratch itself, and is labeled one of the most hideous parts of the body.

Dear Elbow,

Thank you for sacrificing yourself for my face. I don't know what I'd do without you.

Love,
Ellie

Suprise, suprise!

Last week I decided that I was going to go to a small Christian college in Oregon and work on some basics while sampling various career areas.

The week before that, I knew that all I wanted to do was attend Hillsong International Leadership College.

Wednesday I was determined to save up my money, work hard, and hit Haiti with a misson team.

Yesterday, after seeing my Grandpa in the hospital and spending my day there, I decided I most definitely want to be a doctor.

Today... Today, I have absolutely no idea.

Holy cow. This is a whole lot harder than people make it out to be.

P.S. You know those people who decide what they want to be in kindergarten and grow up to be exactly that, and love it? I don't get them. How do they do it? What's the catch?

Rendition of, "Oh Christmas Tree"

"Ooooooh scholarships, ohhh scholarships,
How lovely are your essaaays.
Oh scholarships, ohhh scholarshiiiiiips,
How lovely are your.... eeeessaaaayys"

My Horse and Me

When I was little and my family sang at various places, this was one of my favorite songs I sang...

Makes you want to cry thinking about how much the Olsen twin girls have changed. :(



I had this dream
That I owned a horse
His name is River
He comes when I call
He's black and white so he stands out
And when I ride him I feel so tall

My horse and me
We ride around the world for there's so much to see
And I would never give him up for all
the puppies
in the world
For I just wanna be my horse and me

I know it's hard to care for a horse
I will protect him from winter's chill
Oh, what a dream. Could it come true?
Will I find River and ride him in the hills?

My horse and me
We ride around the world for there's so much to see
And I would never give him up for all
the puppies in the world
For I just wanna be my horse and me
I just wanna be my horse and me

Back Down, Again

The very moment I start to think, "Oh, I'm definitely on the pathway to righteousness" God shows me exactly where I really am: the bottom of the totem pole; the dirt beneath the cow pie; the sand in someone's eye.

Pride. It is a favorite rant of mine--a rant I usually go off on in my own head--to complain about people's insanely big egos and prideful nature.

It's also a favorite game of God's to take something I dislike and open my eyes to see that that very thing is thriving inside my being.

I am prideful.

The other night, Hannah talked to me and mentioned something about someone saying that I was prideful in my own way. Of course, as you can imagine, I was stung by such a comment. Strangely enough, (not very surprising, though) I couldn't get the thought of me being prideful out of my mind. Today, I opened the bible study I'm doing and flipped through the pages. One prayer I wrote out a while ago confirmed exactly what I didn't want to know, much less acknowledge; I had written, "I think I'm prideful." No details, no adjectives, no run-on sentence (for the first time in my life). Nothing. I had stated it clearly, not thinking at the time that it would become the one thing I absolutely could not stop thinking about.

This morning, searching, grappling for an excuse, any way I could prove myself wrong--that I was not prideful--I read these verses:

"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." --Matthew 7: 3-5

Then, when the feeling of hopeless and utter shame dawned, it's weight complete in fullness, and I was on my knees, I was reminded of this:

"This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him." --1 John 5: 13-14

The pride I have harbored inside of me for so long, must go. All of it. And I must give it all to God; trusting that He will take all the judgment from my heart. But not only that; with this realization, comes the acknowledgment that there are a lot of people out there who have been hurt by my pride and insensitivity; and so I owe to all those I have ever judged, or called prideful, this:

I am so sorry. My words, I know, were insensitive and hypocritical and they shouldn't have even been thought, much less said. Please forgive me...

If you can find it in your heart to pray for me I cannot tell you how grateful I would be.

Thank you all, for being there, and for being so kind--when I deserved no less than a slap on the face.

Most humbly, I remain,
Ellie

Oh the Cleverness of God

A little Bing Crosby jazz, a clean room, a shower, wonderful smelling candles, a pretty dress and a journal full of blank pages... I'm ready to wait out this glorious snow storm.

Shawty's like a melody in MY HEAD!

I'm so tired of modern music. It's loud, repetitive and has awful lyrics. Anymore I've realized it doesn't just fill my ears with... well, crap, it fills my head with it's horrific values--or lack there of--and I can't it out of my head!!

So I'm going on strike. No more bad music. I won't listen to it. Won't buy it. Won't support the artists that produce it.

There.

A Plea

Jesus,
Take my heart.

It is yours.

Do with it as you will.
For I am no judge of what is good, or what is bad.

Amen.

...

When times are hard,
and my voice is gone,
and I weep into the night:

He is Glory
He is Holy
He hears my sigh tonight...

There's the Day

There's the day where your head feels like a fully soaked sponge. If anyone were to come squeeze you, even touch you the slightest bit, you'd start unloading all your "water worries/thoughts/ideas/etc" on them and be fully drained of all things thought provoking and complicated.

There's the day when your mind is a big blank page. Flat, white, 2D and completely empty of all thoughts.

Boy Am I A Grump Today

This morning I woke up. Besides a jarring headache, a raw sore throat and an earache, hey! I was bloody wonderful!

I went down stairs, grabbed my Bible and my bible study book and went up stairs for some God time. (That sounds slightly weird, doesn't it? God time. Moving on.) For thirty minutes I was doing good. (Probably because I wasn't focused on myself.)

Then all hell broke loose. Something similar to that of a tightly stretched rubber band broke in my head. Every time someone said something my responses were tinged with a scowl and sounded something like, "Yeah. Fine. What?" And if you've ever seen Ellie mad, you'll know there was very little, if any, good-natured expression in those words. I lumbered around the house like a grouchy bear, wrapped in a blanket.

The end of this story? Well, quite frankly, there isn't one. I'm still a grump.

The moral to this story? I haven't found one yet. I'm not about to look positively on a morning such as this.

Jesus please forgive me, because I know not what I do. Heh (I got a snort out of myself on that one.)

Knock it off, Ellie. Don't joke around with Jesus' personal quotes.

Sheesh.