"Christ is Risen!"

He yelled, and slowly
We began to clap
Roar rising, people reached
Beneath their seats for keys,
For pots and pans,
(Kaleb smashed his together
So hard they bent)
Children popped balloons,
Blew noisemakers,
Trumpets. Applauding
We stood up
Up on our feet, cheering blindly
Because someone had suddenly
Turned on all the lights
And shocked
Our eyes. We cried
Out, whooping,
Laughing gently and embracing.
Pandemonium giddy and proud,
Standing ovation for
The resurrection.

Pondering...

"I redeem time from apathy and neglect and inattentiveness when I swell with thanks and weigh the moment down." --Anne Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts, 72

I'm still thinking about what all I want to write about on this blog. But I think this quote captures at least something of the why. Part of the reason I write is to practice thankfulness. When I write I feel like I'm weighing down moments with words so that I can keep them, or at least keep them in the way that matters: to treasure them up and ponder them in my heart. When I write about things they don't get away from me, I make them a part of me and, whether I mean to or not, acknowledge their goodness, their transforming power over me. Restful Sundays and all-nighters both.

A Bubble Tree is still a really good blog name...

The purpose of this post is to express my intention of maybe perhaps starting to possibly consider blogging again.

I'm easing into this.

"The Greeks were right. Live in fear of a grinding end and a dark hereafter.
Unless you know a bigger God, or better yet, are related to him by blood."

--Nate Wilson, Notes From a Tiltawhirl

Bubble trees

For the first time in a year. It gets to the point where you feel embarassed writing anything because it's been so long. But Annie tells me that she still checks this blog because she likes the name "A Bubble Tree" and I'm realizing that I also really like the name "A Bubble Tree," and that's a good enough reason to keep a blog going, isn't it?
By the way, in case you don't know, there are bubble trees in Perelandra by C. S. Lewis, a book all people everywhere should read. They're sort of shower trees; you stand underneath them and wait while the bubbles swell and swell until finally one bursts on your head and drenches you in a very refreshing way. If this was supposed to be a metaphor for the way my blog would nourish and fertalize and cleanse all of your souls or something than my bubble tree died a long time ago, but it wasn't a metaphor, just a good name, and a really good book, so I can go on merrily not updating and not feeling guilty about it. Except I do feel guilty. I think I'll start posting quotes.

A More Subtle Gift

"Fathers give. Fathers protect. Fathers bestow. Fathers yearn and long for the good of their children. Fathers delight. Fathers sacrifice. Fathers are jovial and open-handed. Fathers create abundance, and if lean times come they take the leanest portion themselves and create a sense of gratitude and abundance for the rest. Fathers love birthdays and Christmas because it provides them with yet another excuse to give some more to the kids. When fathers say 'no', as good fathers do from time to time, it is only because they are giving a more subtle gift, one that is a bit more complicated than a cookie...Fathers are not looking for excuses to say 'no.' Their default mode is not 'no.' " (From one of Douglas Wilson's blog posts...it was probably really wrong of me to copy it, so nobody tell :)

The author of this was writing instructions to human fathers, but when I read it all I could think about was how God exemplifies all these things. I wrote it in my West Virginia journal before we left and I came back to it after we got back and I've been thinking about it in relation to some of the things I'm working through from that week. And the idea that God can't wait till Christmas, the idea that God always takes the leanest portion for himself...
How counter-intuitive. I know God loves us, but I guess I never think of it as such a practical love, such a dear, comfortable love.

Cliffs

"God's command is enabling. Never has he given an assignment that was not accompanied by the power to accomplish it." -Elizabeth Elliot

So I've officially graduated (or rather, I've been officially graduated, apparently it's something that is done to you). And I feel a little like the rest of this summer is just me stepping closer and closer to the edge of a cliff. Digging my toes in, trying not to look down, but eventually I have to jump (fall?) off.
But I've also been thinking that this cliff eighteen years into my life cannot be the first cliff. There was a precipice the day I lost my first tooth. The day I got lost in Kmart. The day I learned to tie my shoes, the day I put my head under water for the first time, the days my sisters were born. The first day of school, the day I got my driver's license, the day I decided to take taekwando. When my dad became an elder, when we first (and second, and third, fourth, fifth) went to West Virginia, every single cello recital.
These have all been precipices I maybe jumped, maybe fell off. And who am I to say that this present cliff is somehow more important, more significant than the tooth-losing one? Than every other time I was afraid and had to trust, was walking blind and had to trust, was dying to something in myself and had to trust that God would raise me from the dead?
Our lives will always follow that pattern of dying and rising. And I wish I could get used to it, could love God enough to say not "Please be careful" but "Anything for you."

"To whatever he says my answer is Yes." -Elizabeth Elliot