Whistful dreaming

Imagine setting off for distant lands. To where the wind howls sharply, and snow ices the ground for months. Where no food tastes the same. Where languages are different.
Where you can walk right over the border and be in a different world.

Imagine that...

I mean New Zealand is alright in itself, it's all I've ever known. But what's over that mountain? What's across that sea? Ah, wanderlust...just wait and see

A Life

Last night I was at a friends and we watched "Not without my daughter"
and the story goes that an American woman, Her Iranian Husband and their daughter go on vacation in Tehran for "two weeks". Due to family pressure and his Islamic faith her husband forces her to stay in Tehran, where she is required to wear a burqua etc. Long story short she tries to escape and he becomes very violent with her, many opportunities arise in which she could leave *by herself* but she refuses to leave without her daughter. In the end she finally gets back, but the thing that really hits home is that the story was true, and is true for many Western wives living in the Middle East.

This post isn't saying that all Muslims are women beaters, I'm very sure there is lost of nice muslims out there who love their familes. But the thing is there are lots of people being abused out there right now, regardless of religion, "race" or gender. Some people never get out of it and believe that this is what life is like. And when you think about that hard or what an intense movie like that,
You can't help but think... So much doesn't matter

So much... your own comfort... your house. If someone out there is hurting... if someone out there is dying inside, how can we keep living? How can we look at the world in the same way? How can we complain about our own problems when there is millions out there who have absouletely no hope? When everyday... every breath is full of pain? How can we begin to think of staying at home and getting married and having children, when so many children are abandoned, abused, starved and killed. How can we read books on how to be feminine when so many women are having the life crushed out of them? How can we buy a new couch or up grade some part in our house, when others go hungry?
How can we hog a hope to ourselves because we are scared of what others may think. How can we walk past people who are in chains?

But then we get locked up in our own little world, the world in which our utmost pleasure comes first. We forget what another's reality is like, we all are guilty of walking by and yes that "we" includes me.
So then I guess the question is how we break out of that? By taking a running leap at Jesus and making the jump?

the next one

The Battle Surrendered

Part Six

Storyteller SilverLoom

     I cried myself to sleep.

     A gentle touch pulled me from my slumber. I looked up. It was Him.

     As fresh tears cascaded down my face, He pulled me into His arms. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed out.

     “Dear heart,” He said tenderly. “I forgive you.”

     He held me until my wails evolved into hiccupping spasms. Then He helped me stand. “Come on,” He said. “You can’t stay here.” Taking that small gold key from his pocket again, He unbound my chained hands and feet.

     I followed Him to the rope dangling into my prison through the crack in the wall. He gestured at our escape route and said, “Ladies first.”

     I tried to pull myself up the rope, but the sides of my prison had somehow become smoother than last time, and my feet couldn’t find a good hold. If I hadn’t been so weak from days without eating, I may have been able to climb it, but I’m not sure.

     After a few tries, I turned to Jesus. “I can’t do it. I can’t climb up.”

     He nodded. “It’s always harder to escape the second time.”

     “So, we’re stuck in here?!” I panicked aloud.

     He waited.

     I remembered Who I was talking to. Not even a sealed tomb could keep Him in, much less my prison. “Can You help me get out? Please?”

     With an ear-to-ear smile, He replied, “I was hoping you would ask.”

     He climbed the rope as easily as a fish swims; the slick wall could not hinder Him. When He was safely above ground, He told me to hang onto the rope. I obeyed, and He slowly drew me up. We were both under the blue sky in a matter of minutes.

     Jesus untied the rope from the tree He had secured it to. As He began coiling the rope, a thought suddenly hit me, but I hesitated to voice it. He stopped His work and looked at me. “Go ahead,” He said.

     “Jesus,” I began, “I know my capture was my own fault; I shouldn’t have given into the shadow creatures. But… why didn’t You help me? Didn’t You… I mean, You must have known what was happening. Didn’t You wake up?”

     His eyes grew deeply sad. “Yes, dear heart, I knew what was happening. I was watching.” His voice cracked just a bit. “But,” He added, “you didn’t ask Me to help. You were too busy trying to fight them on your own.”

     “I have to ask for Your help?” How could He have just stood there and let me be dragged off? I was incredulous.

     He was patient. “You have to want my help. I never force it on anyone; I will only help you if you want Me to. My way is the perfect way, but I gave you a free will to accept or decline My help.”

     So it was still all my fault.

     We started walking through the forest, covering the same ground we had covered before. The sun moved across the sky slowly, but I kept a close eye on it. When it was past noon, I spoke up, “Hey, um, Jesus. Do You think now would be a good time to start my training? Because, those shadow creatures might come back for me tonight and I want to be prepared.”

     “Your training has already begun.”

     “What?” I cried. “But all I’ve done is get captured! You haven’t even given me the smallest bit of advice on how to wield a sword!”

     He stopped and turned to look at me. “Did I ever say your training would involve weapons?”

     “Um, well, not exactly….”

     “I never hinted at anything of the sort.”

     “But that’s what training is!” I protested.

     Shaking His head, He explained, “You train to become better at something, and it doesn’t have to be with weapons. Athletes train to race better. Warriors train to fight better.”

     “But I thought You were going to train me to be a warrior to fight the shadow creatures!”

     He looked me in the eyes before responding gently, “Dear heart, I am training you not to fight.”

Part Four

and a belated four

The Battle Surrendered

Part Four

Storyteller SilverLoom

     He shouldered the coiled rope and strode into the forest.

     I scurried after Him, calling, “Wait! Where are we going?”

     “Follow me.”

     I halted. “Did You just quote Yourself?”

     Thankfully, He understood my sense of humor and laughed. “Yes, I tend to do that. It makes it easier for people to see things the way I do.”

     “And that’s supposed to mean…?” I asked as I again hurried to keep up with Him.

     “That I never change. I am the same at this moment as I was two-thousand years ago, and as I was at the creation of the universe. Today, tomorrow, and yesterday, I remain the same. And so I can quote Myself in everything.”

     We continued walking. And walking. And… walking. The forest floor was uncommonly free of debris, and a soft carpet of moss covered the earth, much to the glee of my bare feet. But after several hours of walking, and walking, and… walking, I finally said, “Ok, don’t get me wrong. I want to follow You wherever You go. But can You give me some clue as to where we’re headed? Please?”

     “We are going home,” Jesus replied.

     I gasped audibly, feeling both excitement and fear. He took one look at my face and cracked up. “No, dear heart! I mean your house. It’s not your time yet.”

     “Oh,” I said. Then I saw the funny side of it and laughed along with Him. After a few minutes, it finally occurred to me what He had said. “Hey! Why are You taking me back home? You said You were going to train me!” I cried.

     “No worries,” He replied. “We won’t arrive until you’re trained.”

     It took me a while to try to sort that out. “So… You’ll be training me on the way?”

     “Yes. We won’t get there until you’re trained.”

     “Oh, ok. Gotcha.” Little did I suspect that I had no clue what He meant.

     We walked some more. And walked. And… well, you know. But it wasn’t as boring as it sounded. The forest was beautiful and peaceful, and I was walking beside the Prince of Peace.

     Presently, Jesus remarked, “We’ll stop here and make camp. We’ll continue your training in the morning.”

     I can’t deny that I gave Him a funny glance. Continue? I wasn’t aware that we had started. I hadn’t even touched a sword or a bow yet!

     He stripped the lower branches off some nearby trees and soon had a small fire going. We ate bread and drank water that came from the pack He carried on His back.

     We slept on the soft moss under some light blankets from Jesus’s pack. The weather was perfect. I didn’t feel cold until early in the morning.

     Shivering, I pulled the blanket more tightly around me. My eyelids fluttered for just a second, but what I saw in that moment made me sit up and scream.

     The shadow creatures were back.

Well how 'bout that?

And three

I'm just whipping this on and running off to a ballet practice exam -prayers please.
Anyway... here 'tis

     The Battle Surrendered 

Part Three

Storyteller SilverLoom 

     I lifted my shackled wrists up and said wistfully, “I’m chained. I don’t know where the key is.”

     He reached into a pocket on his tunic and took out a tiny gold object. “You mean this key?” Grinning at my surprise, he quickly bent to unlock the chains on my wrists and ankles.

     “How did you know I was here?” I inquired as he unbound me.

     “Well,” he replied, “I’m here to train you. And I can’t train you if you’re locked up like this.”

     I decided not to push the question he had obviously avoided and let the conversation carry on. “Train me? Why?” I had read many stories of kids who were sucked into fantasy worlds and trained to be warriors for special missions. The thought that I could be like them filled me with jittery excitement.

     “‘Why?’” he repeated, letting my final shackle fall to the floor. “You think you don’t need training?”

     “No, no! It’s just that… why me? Why was I chosen to be trained? Why were those creatures after me?”

     He looked me in the eye. “They are after all of you, dear heart.” With that, he turned back toward the rope, leaving me to follow and wonder what he had against direct answers.

     It was fairly easy to climb out of the dungeon with my feet braced on the wall and my rescuer beneath me to give me a lift if I needed it. Soon, he and I were treading the green grass outside my prison. I shaded my eyes from the sun as I turned to look at the dreadful place. It was a single, tall tower without any doors or windows that I could see from this side. No banner flew from the top of this lonely turret, so I had no emblem to associate with the enemy who had captured me. The tower was set in the middle of a forest.

     “Um, so, Sir…?” I let my sentence trail off and turned to look at my rescuer, who was busy coiling the rope. “Sorry. I didn’t get your name?”

     “Jesus,” was the calm reply.

     I balked. His grin returned as He added, “You wanted directness.”

     Now I had to decide if it was a complete miracle or complete lunacy. The fact that He could read my mind pretty much ruled out insanity, but could it really be Him?

     Before I could say anything, He stretched out His hand toward me. One look at the ugly scar marring His skin was enough to convince me. My mind spun.

     He pulled me out of my circling thoughts by pointing out, “You were about to ask Me something?”

     “Uh, yeah. When do we start… um, that is, when are You…?”

     “When does your training begin?” He prompted.

     I nodded, still dumbfounded.

     “When you are ready,” He said.

     I managed to squeak out, “Am I ready now?” 

     He smiled. “You tell Me. Are you?”

     “I think so.”

     He waited.

     “Yes. I’m ready.”

     “Good. Then let’s get to work.” He shouldered the coiled rope and strode into the forest

Isn't it sad? Five more stories to go :(
-Miss Tiffany  

I decided I'd bore you...

...So I'll do just that. I've got choir tonight I'm a soprano [highest female voice group] I can [just] sing an A# one octave about mC, if that interests you, wait it doesn't and if you say anything is interesting in this post I won't believe you. I've sewn the elastics [that go round the ankle] on my pointes.
Oh by the way I can draw [ahem, only females in historical costume and mountains mostly]And I wish I knew how to put pictures on my blog, but'll ask Dad, it looks a bit bleak without them. I barely know anything about computers.
So continue my train of thought, I'm going to read my A night of characters for DB [to explain DB in this post is the best time I think] In short its our writing group and it stands for Dead Boring, see told ya it'd fit :),  and perfect for us budding authors to get good comments and things to work on and hear others [awesome!]  stories.
 Ok I've got to go eat tea. I hope you missed the last line, because you were snoring [that might be a bit harsh] Ok you were taking your beauty sleep and are very sorry you missed the, end but when you reach the end again your in the place were dreams are woven.

-Tiffany