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Idealism

At the end of summer camp, during my exit interview, I was informed that I was an idealist. In case you need some help with that one here's a definition. "Someone who forms and pursues unrealistic ideals." My director encouraged me not to be too idealistic about people, especially, since everyone comes from a different background of experience and has their own personality. I must confess that I've always found it hard to put myself in another's person's shoes. I can easily put myself in their situation--but thats the things--I've still got myself in the equation and I always give advice based on what I would do if I were in their situation. But they are not me and my advice doesn't help them much. Neither does it help me understand and love other people as they are.
   I'm realizing that I have been idealistic about my family as well. I came home and expected certain things in each of my siblings and my parents, but have been disappointed. Because of disappointment I've lost my motivation to serve my family in the greatest capacity possible. Because I have become so disillusioned and discouraged I've lost my purpose in being home and have become bored and grumpy. And all the time I'm wondering why I can't make myself cheer up!
   The Lord has set me up. First He told me I was an idealist. And then He put me in a situation where I will be forced to either live miserably or get rid of my idealism! I think He's very smart. Because now I'm going to try and not get frustrated when people act selfishly, pridefully, or un-lovingly. I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do instead, but I'm sure that's part of my lesson. So I'll leave it to Him.

Galveston Island

This last weekend the Durant family took a two-day vacation to Galveston in southern Texas. The weather was beautifully warm--I love the heat, remember--and the water perfect. Of course, I had to get used to the nasty, salty taste of the sea which made me feel sick if I got much in my mouth. But that didn't prove to be much of a damper on the fun we had.

   Gina, Jon, Seth, and I walked way out into the ocean...it never really got very deep where we were at...and played Giants, and all sorts of fun stuff. We found baby jellyfish that were clear and not at all painful to touch. They looked and felt like snot and at first it was quite creepy to have them brush against you in the water. They didn't really swim, I don't think, but just floated around and lots got stuck on the beach. After awhile we got used to them and tried to see who could catch the biggest one.

    The second day at the beach we found lots of hermit crabs in the mud, of all sizes. Some were very tiny and several were quite as big as your thumb. We put them in the shallow and watched them come out of their shells and either bury themselves in the sand or begin scuttling back toward the sea. They were very curious! Seth even found a tiny crab on a length of muddy rope he pulled out of the mud.

   The height of our vacation was on the second day when we were out swimming. Gina, Jon, Seth, and I had all gone out deep up to our chests again. We played some more giant and just swam around in the waves. There weren't very many because it was a rather calm day and the sea was pretty flat. Suddenly I looked behind me, and then Gina and Jon did too. We saw a black dorsal fin about twenty feet out from us, swimming parallel to the shore. Without a word we all took off for shore with a great deal of splashing--the thought crossed my mind that the shark might hear us and come after the noise if it hadn't noticed us there already! We were deathly frightened--so much so that nobody said a word. After a moment I got my breath and shouted to Mom and Dad at the shore with the little boys, "Shark!" The others immediately echoed the cry. I looked behind us and saw the fin come up again, and another a few feet behind it. There were two!

       As I looked behind us, I thought--"better make sure we're all here"--and just then Seth popped up out of the water, just where we all used to be standing. He had been digging for hermit crabs and had just found a great big one. As he wiped the water out of his eyes I saw the dorsal fin appear again right behind him! Gina and I started shouting at him to swim back, there was a shark, and we weren't kidding! He looked a little alarmed and started wading back...but not fast enough for us! We shouted for him to hurry faster!

   Thankfully, the fins turned out to be dolphin fins, and Seth got back to the shallow quite safe. But after that, we didn't go out so far. We didn't even stay much longer on the beach. But we did have a good laugh at ourselves, and so did the few people swimming around us. (the beach was pretty deserted that day) The boys all said they wished it would have really been a shark so that we could say we had escaped after being really close to one. But me--I'm just glad the incident turned out as it did.

Family Project

The funniest thing happened two weeks ago Sunday...the four oldest Durant children decided to write a book! And not just any sort of book--a fantasy.
 Jon is writing the comedy, Seth the heroics, Gina the romance, and I am in charge of everything technical and historical. I also am learning Sindarin for our lovely elves to speak. This book will be called "The Book of Elements: Water, Stone, Fire, Air, and Earth."And it is a five part book that tells how three planets collided in space and merged into one, throwing an odd assortment of folk together. Of course, not all these folk get along and there are plenty of battles, rescues, and intrigue in our proposed plot. Also a bit of romance...can't do without that. There's also plenty of nerdy historical and linguistic content for my own benefit. The project may end up never being finished--but the boys, Gina, and I are having a lot of fun at it!

If your curious, I've attached a piece below. :D

Lindsey

“Arphen Badhor, this history I am copying, does it contain the account of the Nirnaeth?” he asked, timidly, for fear of disturbing the elf’s intent working over the great manuscript on the table. The elf looked up and gazed at the hobbit until he thought the old man had gone into a trance or a doze.

“I heard you were an inquisitive hobbit, Master Fileg,” he said at last, “but few ever wish to hear a retelling of that terrible time.”

         The hobbit felt chastised, but his curiousity was not to be abated so easily. He flipped to the back of the book when the elf’s eyes were not on him, and searched the last chapters for the account of that ancient upheaval. The history ended with a certain king he had never heard of, and he was once again itching to ask the elf a question.

“Arphen Badhor, may I interrupt you?” he whispered politely. The elf looked up at him again, sighed, and motioned for him to come to the doorway, which stood open to allow light and air. The hobbit shuffled to the elf’s side quickly and wondered if the old elder were going to tell him the story himself! Fileg was not a child anymore, but he was still a very young hobbit, and loved a good story, especially if it were in poetic form.  The oak tree Torthond, curved the doorway to make a perfect seat for the elderly elf, and the hobbit climbed up onto a short stool opposite.

“Curiosity is not a negative trait in one so young, Master Fileg, for there is still hope that you will be able to mix with it discretion. I have heard that you are not only a story-lover, but also what is better, a story-writer. And as all good story-writers know, the best way to become good at story-telling, is to hear a story told. So I will tell you the tale of the Nirnaeth, and as I am not inclined to tell it to you everyday, you must take heed to remember it.” Here the old elf paused to lick his lips and look toward a jug of water at the other end of the room. The hobbit jumped down from his perch and brought the mug. Then the elf took a noisy gulp such as old folk do when they are enjoying a cool, refreshing drink.

“Ah!” he said at last, “And now, the Dance of the Sun-King.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the hobbit, “But I thought—“

“Listen, small one.” And the elf cleared his throat once more before he began on the age-old tale. “Long ago, when the princes and princesses of Oyarsa still danced before the throne of the Sun-King, there lived a beautiful princess, who was both fair and good. Her name was Elgwilith—Star in the Sky—and she was the youngest of Oyarsa’s many children who danced before the King.”

         Arphen Badhor paused to sip his spring-water once more, and the

         Hobbit blinked twice and sighed, quite enthralled by the tale.

“Elgwilith’s dancing partner was a funny lad—tall and stately, but very shy. He was often quiet to the point of mystery and no one liked him much except the princess, simply because they knew nothing about him. Elgwilith loved him. He danced with her gently and skillfully, and there was a great kindness in his eyes. But these two who danced at the end of the Sun-King’s great hall did not go wholly unnoticed. There was one prince who admired the princess above his own partner and also envied the shy prince who danced with her. In fact he quite hated the poor prince and let his venom be known through many terrible flashes of outrage.”

“Oh my!” Fileg interjected.

He knew this was an allegory for the twelve planets that spun in orbit before the brilliant sun-star in the east, and the thought of a planet making “terrible flashes of outrage” quite took his breath away. He also was a bit confused, because he knew that the elves had written the folklore about the Nirnaeth and wondered why they referred to their own planet as a shy and mysterious prince, and the planet that lay to the south of them, the beautiful princess. Why should the elves’ own dear land not be the hero or heroine of their own story? But he set these thoughts aside as Arphen Badhor continued with his story.

“Finally, the prince’s demonstrations came to the attention of the Sun-king and his anger was aroused against the rebellious prince. He had him banished and flung him out of the dance. But the evil prince’s heart took this opportunity to bloom and it soon bore a bitter fruit. In his fall the wicked prince sped swiftly down upon on the shy prince, who did not notice. The princess Elgwilith saw his danger and stepped more quickly than the dance’s time allowed in an effort to flee the prince’s path of destruction. Alas! Her heart led her to folly and with an awesome clash, the three collided and the shy prince was crushed fatally between the enemy and his lover. The dance of the Sun-King was never broken, but the sorry trio spun silently with the shock of the collision into the vast, eternal throng of lookers-on. Such was the Nirnaeth.”

Fileg had fallen into a sorrowful trance and his gaze rested on the bare and withered foot of the elf, which peeked out from underneath the long grey robe he wore. The robe was gilded with faded letters of the Tengwar. Fileg could not read the ancient elf-script, but his eyes focused and his thoughts came one again to the present. He looked up to find the elf leaned forward on his cane, mug in hand, watching him.

“Why do you want to know so much about the old histories and things beyond your time, Master Fileg?”

“Oh…” Fileg smiled nervously, “I don’t know. I’ve always been interested in such things. Ever since I was a small child. Ever since I had a curious dream one midsummer’s night, in fact. “

“And what did you dream?” The elf asked in perfect seriousness.

         Fileg had never spoken of the details of his dream. He did not dream often and mostly forgot what those fitful dreams contained. But that one particular dream had worked in him a change that made him so curious and quiet—so un-hobbit-like, as his mother put it. Somehow, he felt like the elder elf should know. Perhaps he could help Fileg make some sense out of the dream.

“I was out in the field with my siblings, sleeping underneath the stars on a clear, midsummer’s night twenty years ago when I was still a very young dwarf. The night was warm and we all fell asleep quickly after our evening meal. I was lain out between my two older brothers, Brog and Caun, fast asleep when I began to dream. And in my dream it seemed that I woke and seeing the sun’s first sliver peeking round the dark moon, saw that it was almost daybreak. There was a thick mist along the ground, yet when I stood I found that I flew above the mist and could see through it as if it were a clear pool. It was still very dim and chilly about, and so I flew toward my house to go and get some breakfast. But just as I crested the hill near our camping place, a sunbeam lit the mist afire in front of me and I felt compelled to follow its path to the east. Of course, you know what lies to the east—the great cliff edge that drops to the lower world! In my dream I followed the sunbeam all the way to that very edge and looked down over. What I saw in my dream I have never seen in real life, because my eyesight is not as sharp as an eagle’s. But I remember that sight more vividly than any real memory. I saw the surface of the lower world! I saw cottages, roads, farms, cattle, and all sorts of people milling about. The light of the sun had reached their regions much sooner than it does our platuea and they were already busy about their work. I watched for a long time, noticing many odd and peculiar things about the way life is lived down there. And then suddenly I awoke again between my own two brothers, with the sunlight peeking around the moon’s edge just as it had in my dream. As you can imagine, I got up on my feet right away and ran as fast as they would carry me to the cliff’s edge. But all I saw is what I have always seen when I go and peer over into the depths—cloud tops and the hazy blue of hills far in the distance.”

“And you have wanted to see that sight again, have you not?” the elf asked him.

“Of course! It was so beautiful and intriguing. In fact, I have often wondered if it were possible to find a way down.”

“Ah!” the elf exclaimed, pulling himself off of his perch and hobbling across the room. “You are not the first to wonder that—but all the others have never returned from trying.” He sat before the great manuscript and turned to look at Fileg. “Its not worth considering.” 

Love Hurts

It is not for me to discern perfection from folly,
It is not for me to know times and seasons before they come,
It is not for me to bind chains or to send forth decrees,
Yet it is mine to love.
And if love can't teach perfection, give divination, or never-failingly anchor
its object to myself--
How painful is that love.