from "Van Gogh: the Life"

"No issue defined Vincent's reincarnation in 1881 more than money. Of all the accusations leveled against him over the previous years, none weighed more heavily on his new life than the charge that he could not support himself. This was, after all, the accusation on which his father had launched the effort to have him committed [to an asylum]. The pain and humiliation of those memories had driven Thomas a Kempis completely out of his thoughts. From the moment he arrived in Brussels, he could not protest loudly enough his single-minded determination to earn a living. 'My aim must be to learn to make some drawings that are presentable and saleable as soon as possible,' he declared in his first letter from the Aux Amis, 'so that I can begin to earn something directly through my work.' His first stop in Brussels had been at Goupil for a symbolic re-embrace of the family's mercantile heritage-- '[I] have now returned to the art field,' he proclaimed. To Theo [his younger brother], he confided his hope that 'if only I work hard...possibly Uncle Vincent or Uncle Cor will do something--if not to help me, at least to help Father.' (pg. 225)

978-0-375-50748-9

edit :: 2.45, from "The Girl Who Circumnavigted Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making" 

' Hats change everything. September knew this with all her being, deep in the place where she knew her own name, that her mother would still love her even though she hadn't waved good-bye. For one day, her father had put on a hat with golden things on it and suddenly he hadn't been her father anymore, he had been a solider, and he had left. Hats have power. Hats can change you into someone else. ' (pg. 26)

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

What a friend we have in Jesus,

all our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry

everything to God in prayer!

O what peace we often forfeit,

O what needless pain we bear,

all because we do not carry

everything to God in prayer.

Have we trials and temptations?

Is there trouble anywhere?

We should never be discouraged;

take it to the Lord in prayer.

Can we find a friend so faithful

who will all our sorrows share?

Jesus knows our every weakness;

take it to the Lord in prayer.

Are we weak and heavy laden,

cumbered with a load of care?

Precious Savior, still our refuge;

take it to the Lord in prayer.

Do thy friends despise, forsake thee?

Take it to the Lord in prayer!

In his arms he'll take and shield thee;

thou wilt find a solace there.

People Pleaser

1 Corinthians 10.13 (ESV) reads,

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.

 Then 10.14 reads,

Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry.

 Because why should I endure temptation and have to escape it, if I can avoid it altogether.

I doubt that Paul here is saying we should live in little bubbles so that we never interact with all life, including the best it has to offer- I mean, have you seen (read?) Paul's life all the stuff he did, and all the stuff that happened to him?! Bitten by snakes; shipwrecked; stoned (ahaha). He didn't avoid life, he threw himself into it.

Now, I'm also not saying (nor is Paul saying) we should all want to be bitten by snakes, and shipwrecked, and stoned (haha), but why walk into a trap when there's already a huge warning sign that says,

"TRAP!"

That's probably why Paul goes on to say for Christians that when you go to someone's house and they offer you food, just eat it. Be kind for they were kind to you. But in the same way, if your host says, "This has been offered in sacrifice..." -wait, what would be the modern equivalent of that? So, if your host says, "This food was made my enslaved, poorly treated house elves," you probably shouldn't eat it.

Now, admittedly, I don't really understand what Paul is trying to say in 1 Corinthians 10.29,30. I should not partake of the food not because of my conscience but for my host's conscience? I don't know why I should be denounced because of that for which I give thanks, Paul, why are you asking? I have to go find a pastor for that.

Anyway, 1 Corinthians 10.31-33 finishes with,

So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. Give no offense to Jews or to the Greeks, or to the church of God, just as I try to please everyone in everything I do, not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved. 

I doubt that a man who was bitten by snakes, shipwrecked, (almost imprisoned multiple times), and stoned was a people pleaser like we know people pleasers today; so, I think when Paul writes that he tries to please everyone in everything I do, he's not colorblind; he's aware of customs and cultures different from his own. He's not going to pretend that the rest of the world is just like his world and for that I am thankful. We need a lot more people like that. He couldn't write 1 Corinthians, chapter 10 (or the rest of his letters for that matter) if he didn't practice what he preached, yeah? :P

So, even though I don't know whose conscience I should be worrying about (probably my own because I can't read anyone else's mind, or live anyone else's life), I should do all the glory of God. Everything. I should live blamelessly. Like Christ. Yeah. I can do that. Okay. I guess I have to get out of bed to do that.

"Stop yelling at me!"

Sometimes I don't know what boils my blood until someone asks me a question, then the volume of my voice gradually increases until the questioner is like, "Calm down, Justine."
   "Sorry," I'd reply, "I didn't know this bothered me. Did you know? Is that why you asked?"

Now that I know whatever-it-is bothers me I can do something about it, but I have to admit: all that yelling I did didn't get anyone anywhere; well, except me, but that's selfish.

Why I equate an increased volume with clarification is beyond me; I need to change this assumption because I know the moment someone starts yelling at me I stop listening. I don't like being yelled at, and, frankly, in spite, I will stop listening.




Once, I told a student, "Look me in the eye!" and I immediately regretted it. Hadn't I learned never to command a student to do that? Why shouldn't I do that? Because it's belittling. It's like when my parents told me to look them in the eye, and I was like "Nope!" I don't remember why I demanded that particular student to look me in the eye, but I do remember that I apologized right after.

I once called another student a drama queen- I made him cry, and I apologized for that, too.




When I yell, I guess I feel a sensation of power over the one I'm yelling at. This sometimes is necessary, but I can't imagine why it would be necessary in a community of peers who are equal, not in age, or rank, but in situation because the moment any adolescent walks into the school building, he or she is made my equal. As a teacher, I don't fill empty jars (how many times do we need to hear that?); I hope, instead, that I am adding positive things to his or her collection of life experience and truths because I'm a human who just happens to have a degree- a sheet of paper (and loads of debt)- that my students don't have yet.

Yes, yes, I have a responsibility as an authority figure in that classroom to make sure my students are safe and comfortable, but I am not their dictator. I can't just yell and command things.

If I don't stand for yelling, and passive-aggressively ignore it, I can only imagine how other people who more active-aggressively might come to ignore it...to me--I don't need to foster this sort of negative environment, anywhere, ever.

If you are going to yell, make sure it's not at someone. And yell good stuff like, "Have a great day!" or something else cheesy. [:

when i speak to myself:

rain, rain,
come and stay;
please nourish my soul for forever and a day.
please
flood the valleys and mount the peaks
engulf salt water, fresh water, all bitter tears.
flood the nations that engage in hate--
if it's my nation i'll consent to my own request.

under the ocean we might find peace;
under the pressure of millions of water
we might be humbled.
because under the heavens we're fat with pride
and know no better diet than making sure of others' skinniness.

the few guilty of
too much acceptance and
too much love.
but only hatred is guilt-ridden.
hatred and clamor and deceit.

your discretion isn't working
because time won't stand still long enough to justify your hasty decisions;
because your discretion is infamous indiscretion--
Mama didn't teach you to say those things to people
whose lives aren't yours;
who neither will befriend you;
lives who cannot acknowledge your input
because you don't acknowledge their situation.

oh, rain, rain,
come and stay
rain upon those who deserve it,
and if i am one then i'll consent to my own request.

Unfortunate Choices

Dear God,
   I have to be honest with you: it bothers me that you are not at all selective with who you choose to work for you. Frankly, if you were a place of higher education, you're like community college- you just accept everyone. Everyone. Everyone, everyone, everyone. All of them. Including me. It is for the least of these that you live, but did you have to pick the least of these that make everyone else feel as though they are lesser than the least of these? Probably an imprudent, presumptuous question- what if I'm one of the least of these that make others feel less than they are? What's my deal? What's your deal?! Why did you pick me? I wouldn't pick me.
   But you did. And though I consider that an unfortunate (permanent) choice, I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you don't just willy nilly strike your greatest offenders with lightning. Indeed, the sun shines down on both the righteous and unrighteous [in this way, we're not entirely sure who is who; in this way, you are the only one who truly knows].
   Remind me: when I sing, or say, or read "So the last will be first, and first last" (Matthew 20.16 - ESV) that I shouldn't become so hoity toity. I should be humbled. I am the last. I've got a long way to go before I'm first in anything.
   On another note, I'm sorry, God, that I've been neglecting my time with you. I suppose that to a certain extent I've taken you for granted: I've been apathetic because I haven't been either miserable or overjoyed, therefore I didn't think to bother you with every little thought that passes through me. I hardly do that with humans, much less the God of the Universe. I don't know how to get into the habit of telling you every little thing, and after a while, I'm just talking to myself because even I don't care about everything I think and have to toss away some of those thoughts.
   But you'll teach me how to approach you, won't you? Kind of like if I were going to meet the Queen of England, I'll probably have to enroll in etiquette lessons. How can you be so approachable and yet so formidable?
   Perhaps Ravi Zacharias said it best,

' Who is God? God is your Holy Father. Every time you get on your knees pray to God, "Holy" keeps the respect, the reverence; "Father" brings Him close; intimate. The Christian faith is the only faith that calls God "our Father". '

Kiwis and Cobblestones