Beautiful Feet Tribe

At the cross I bow my knee…

Thu, 16 May 2013 15:37:46 -0400

At the cross I bow my knee…

Work Flow: The Importance of Being Diligent

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 10:56:11 -0400

Work Flow: The Importance of Being Diligent

P.I.

Sat, 13 Apr 2013 16:20:00 -0400

I love that Sherlock was paid for being nosy.

"I can’t help but wonder what the best reflection of reality in America is. Is it living where..."

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 10:54:57 -0400

“I can’t help but wonder what the best reflection of reality in America is. Is it living where discrimination is blatant and the lines of racism are clearly drawn? Or living where the line is more ambiguous and families operate as though racism doesn’t exist; only to find it swirling right in the neighborhood?”

- Leticia Clark George, Guest blogger for Jack and Jill politics: http://www.jackandjillpolitics.com/

Ma’dam Rajbir at C’est La Vie

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 20:27:38 -0400

Ma’dam Rajbir at C’est La Vie

Art By Kelly Michelle

Fri, 15 Mar 2013 12:43:57 -0400

Art By Kelly Michelle :

One of the kindest and sweetest girls I know started an awesome business designing paper goods, glass tile products, children’s products, and custom made jewelry. Check her out!!

" Tender Eyes: Part 2..."

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 01:41:00 -0400

“

Tender Eyes: Part 2 ************************************************************************************************ Due to the unrelenting midday sun, by the time she reached the semi circle of fourteen elders she had been running so hard she was gasping for breath. Father Itzkah and Father Namir continued to pass their kikkar amongst themselves and ignored her desperate panting as she broke into their circle. Father Manachem, Father Hillel and several others raised their eyebrows in shock, but it was Father Oren who stood and handed her a ladle of water. She concluded it was evident he still remembered her father; who could really ever forget the poor unfortunate story of Ibrahim Shachar and his beautiful, always sick wife?

As she greedily devoured the water and let the rest of it trickle down her chin she was silently thankful for the wooden handle that covered her face. She was flushed pink, an equal mix of embarrassment at her frenzied state in front of the village elders and the intolerable heat. As she handled the ladle back to Father Oren she regained her composure. Father Oren met her hesitant brown eyes and put one of his hands on her trembling shoulders. “Speak woman,” he beckoned, with a steady gaze.

“I-I-I-met a man,” she started, looking at the circle of elders. The poignant memory of the man with the tender eyes amidst this circle of men, their skin blistered by the desert sun, and their eyes tainted with cynicism and disgust, activated her midnight moonlight tears.
“Go on child,” Father Oren said.
“Somebody call one of her husbands,” Father Yael snarled.
“Go on,” Father Oren repeated himself.
“I-I-He’s over there!” she sputtered, throwing up her right arm and beckoning toward the dusty path leading out of the village.
“Daughter of Ibrahim, calm yourself and speak” Father Oren encouraged. Something about Father Oren confirming he did in fact remember her father triggered a surge of confidence that freed her from the fear of the circle of skeptical eyes staring back at her.
“I went to draw water today and I met a man who knew everything about me!” she blurted out. “ I told him nothing but he told me everything. And he was so kind! So kind! And he told me that the true worshippers of Yahweh would meet with Yahweh if they sought him with sincerity. And he was so smart…so smart…and I don’t know how he knew the things he did but he knows everything!”
“Maybe he was a prophet,” Father Hadar suggested.
“No! No no no no no!” she retorted angrily shaking her head. She was surprised with the volume and unparalleled certainty in her voice.
“Child? What are you saying?” Father Oren asked.
“Father Oren, He-this man I met- is the messiah! Come right now and see for yourself!”

”

Tender Eyes: Part 1

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 01:30:00 -0400

As she started to jog toward the village, the scorching noonday sun created a haphazard ring of perspiration under the arms of her tattered wool tunic. Cursing the heat, she attempted to fan herself but the beads of sweat, like fresh morning dew, dotted her temple and forehead insistently. She felt naked, even foolish, without her water pot at her hip; often in her insecurity she would grasp the cracked clay jar in front of her like a shield, as if it guarded her from the vicious gossip circulating throughout her snickering compound. As she picked up a steady pace the crimson dirt started to create a dust cloud around her that caused her to cough as she ran, but today she didn’t care. She couldn’t shake the gaze of the man with the tender eyes at the water well from her memory. How had he known? She had never seen him before. Ever. And yet he knew. And yet, surprisingly, with all he knew, it was not bad he knew. She hadn’t run like this since she was a little girl, chasing her naughty brother Thomas through the barley fields during spring harvest. She whizzed past Mother Zivah, viciously grinding grain for evening lehem and darted past the Karem family children, dirtying their tunics as they tousled in the high grass on the outskirts of town.

Even her village, a disorganized collection of mud houses amidst the sweltering desert, seemed to welcome her as she raced through its familiar dirt pathways. She knew the collection of village elders were meeting today in the center of the community as they always did midday midweek as they had since she was a child. She needed no introduction; they all knew who she was. They had known her father, before he couldn’t pay back any more of his debts and died trying. They had known her mother before she’d gotten sick with fever …and no doubt they couldn’t entirely erase her previous image as a wide-eyed, innocent youngster trailing her mother to the water well and replace it with the woman she’d become. Although she maintained haughty defiant eyes around town, when old women whispered and mothers grabbed their children when she passed them in the center square, inside she cried. At night, without the menacing eye of her latest husband to be, she cried too. Warm silent tears often gushed down her cheeks in the middle of the night where they glistened under the comforting moonlight. How had life gotten so suffocating?

Quiet Time Anyone? I’d like nothing more than to curl up...

Mon, 14 Jan 2013 18:30:00 -0500

Quiet Time Anyone?

I’d like nothing more than to curl up with a furry blanket, a mug of blistering citrus tea (with a spoonful of organic honey), a zillion commentaries, and gaze out over the Alps in Ebenalp, Switzerland, clutching my journal tightly and jotting down sweet nothings as Anthony Hamilton croons in the background something about Charlene.

Selah.

Welcome 2013

Mon, 07 Jan 2013 16:08:48 -0500

“The eyes of all look expectantly to You!” (Psalm 145:15)

Haute Couture

Fri, 30 Nov 2012 21:51:32 -0500

I am not much one for high fashion-especially if it has an accompanying ginormous price (and it usually does!)- but recently French designer Chanel has twisted my head with this gorgeous vintage shoulder bag. The chain is just darling isn’t it?

"The French skeptic Voltaire predicted that within a hundred years of his death the Bible would be a..."

Wed, 28 Nov 2012 13:23:36 -0500

“The French skeptic Voltaire predicted that within a hundred years of his death the Bible would be a forgotten book. Within fifty years of Voltaire’s death, however, the Geneva Bible society was using his house to publish Bibles for Europe.”

- Robert J. Morgan

Yeshua, Lover of My Soul ♥

Mon, 12 Nov 2012 14:50:00 -0500

My great God is truly MAGNIFICENT! He pursues us relentlessly with his love, eager to show the world his kindness.He is

……dazzling

……dashing

…….a supriser

…….a bringer of Hope

…….a forgiver

…….a Healer

…….a Lover of the soul.

♫ Oh praise the One who paid my debt & raised this life up from the dead

” For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my...

Mon, 15 Oct 2012 17:05:00 -0400

” For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” ~Judy Garland

My Beloved is Mine and I am His…. (Song of Solomon 2:16)

Wed, 25 Jul 2012 14:07:51 -0400

My Beloved is Mine and I am His…. (Song of Solomon 2:16)

Bride to Be….

Thu, 12 Jul 2012 03:16:34 -0400

Bride to Be….

Graduation 2012

Fri, 18 May 2012 21:48:22 -0400

I’ve never been much of a long distance runner. Even as a gangly middle-schooler when Ruby and I would run around the track in junior high I hated running long distance. Ruby and I always came in toward the back of the pack and we would collapse in exhaustion as soon as we reached the finish line. However, life doesn’t always give us sprints and sometimes we have to endure.

Some will swear it’s the late night study sessions at Peet’s Coffee.

Some will swear it’s the dedicated professors and their mountain of books.

Some will swear it’s the worn comfortable chairs in the Writing Center.

Some will swear it’s their own ingenuity and willpower.

…but as for me, I know from experience that is only JESUS CHRIST, my faithful and kind God, who has given me the strength to finish graduate school. It was only his mercy to me. There were times when I was out of energy, money, ideas, and strength. There were times I thought I was going to lose my mind trying to write papers and teach classes in the same day. There were times I thought of completely giving up as certain professors and committees rejected my writing. However, through it all GOD was so faithful to walk with me. Jesus is truly Immanuel, God with us. My graduate school stay was longer than initially expected and full of unexpected rejections but God was just so faithful! I am so thankful to JESUS CHRIST for being so loyal and kind to me and allowing me to finish grad school. Praise God!

Instead of hate speech Paul admonished all Christians to pray...

Sat, 12 May 2012 12:03:00 -0400

Instead of hate speech Paul admonished all Christians to pray for our government leaders. I have failed in this area but it is evident, now more than ever, that the White House desperately needs our prayers!

“I exhort first of all that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks be made for all men, for kings and all who are in authority, that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and reverence. For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior.” 1 Timothy 2:13, NKJ

Aphra: Let's Do Coffee

Sat, 12 May 2012 11:50:18 -0400

Yo Aphra,

So we should be best friends by now right!? I have spent over sixty hours reading your mail. Shouldn’t that be reserved to like bff’s or something? I guess everything in one’s life becomes public domain when you are considered the first Englishwoman to ever earn a living by writing professionally. You are credited with writing the first anti-slavery novel ever and celebrated for being the mother of Cosmopolitan Universalism. Your thoughts are the source of my thesis and one of the reasons I can graduate this semester….and yet you remain a complete enigma to me! In 1668 you write a story about a West African prince, Oroonoko, who is kidnapped and taken to the New World only to be whipped and mutilated. Yet, even though Oroonoko dies you declare it is your job to make this African prince live through your writing. So were you just really fascinated with the new transcontinental trade (Africa, Europe, and the Carribean) or did you really think the slave trade was wrong? We like so need to talk girl.

So it’s times like these that I desperately wish there was a Starbucks time machine. Like, you could meet with anyone from the past for a 30 minute coffee break. If you had the opportunity to meet with anyone from the past for 30 minutes aboard a Starbucks time machine who would it be and why?

What would you bump?!

Wed, 18 Apr 2012 16:47:00 -0400

…I think I’d haveta dust off the old Kid n’ Play tracks :)