“Timothy, you think too much!”
He couldn’t believe he was hearing those words from his wife, words he’d heard since childhood from his mother, his teachers... What was too much? Who was to say which chalk line one should think up to and then come to a screeching halt? What if Wordsworth had never thought too much, or Shakespeare, or Milton or Crammer or Socrates? And what about Beethoven or Edison or Madame Curie? Why was thinking such a crime?
“Timothy, you think too much!”
all i need is Christ. and i have Him! even when i don't see or feel His presence. when all the doctrine in my head is as far from my heart as the earth is from saturn. He is with me. He who has called me is faithful. He will keep that which He has redeemed. He doesn't give up, when I wallow in my sinful doubts and fears and distrust. He cleanses me and moves me into His grace. He is patient. His timing is perfect. He sends all things to sanctify. For His glory and my GOOD.
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
By John Masefield (1878-1967)
|hung out in a lil surf town|
|explored the Cliffs of Moher|
|& hot cocoa in Lahinch!|
I left my camera behind because the lens cap ran off with a leprechaun. These pics are from our resident Galen Rowell, Luke.
Exploring the Burren.
This little cave/hollow place was incredible. You could hear waves crashing into the rock face, the winds blew incessantly into it. It was also littered with shredded cheese and seaweed-like soggy pretzels.
All in all, this was one of the most magical days for me.
i don't even care. that the notes He's chosen for me aren't logical. (to my ears). that they are certainly not the notes everybody wants me to sing. but. they come much easier then the ones i've been trying to write for myself. it's like i've been smothering myself, and God said no more of this foolishness. He gave me oxygen. and i think. i think i like singing just for Him. i think i am over over over trying to sing what others tell me too, trying to re-arrange the notes to please God and family, or God and people i look up to, whoever. done trying to make them logical. all i want is to love Him. to please the One who is indescribably good. i'm done trying. i'm just...breathing. and singing each note as it comes/./.
oh my soul.
I don't get the appeal, but the guys really wanted thier picture at the end of the rainbow...we didn't find skittles or pots of gold.
Prehistoric...umm yeah about that. They're not actually prehistoric. It was a fun side trip though.
This cove was lovely! One of my favorite places. All of us scattered and explored on our own.