It isn't that I don't love you

I've just been so very busy, you see.

Working.

And writing the novel that's going to make me the next JK Rowling (AHAHAHAHA!! if only)

And Christmasing. I don't actually have a tree yet. We're supposed to get one this weekend because my parents gave us forty smakaroos. We spent it on groceries, but we're still buying a forty dollar tree. It's pretty much the same thing.

Christmas is in interesting thing when you're a young married couple. You've moved out, so you aren't the kids anymore, and the kids or sort of the focus of the whole Christmas season. And Jesus. I'll get to him in a minute. But for now, kids. We aren't the kids anymore, so the whole magic of that aspect is missing now.

Example: My sister and I used to sleep in the same bedroom on Christmas Eve and watch Christmas movies (Annabelle's Wish? The best/worse/best/worse Christmas movie on the planet. It's about a cow who turns into a reindeer. Seriously. Also, it's important to note that I just spelled "reindeer" as "raighndeer" The spell check suggested that I really meant "Straightener". Mercy). I usually fell asleep mid-Grinch, but still. It was a Yuletide slumber party once a year. Also, we always got brand new PJ's. Last year we tried that, and at nine, we both looked at each other and said "Yea, I had to work today. I'm going to bed." We didn't even sleep in the same room. She slept in her old bedroom and I slept in mine with my husband.

Childhood = gone forever.

I feel like this problem of missing magic could all be solved by having our own children, because really, kids get the joy and magic of Christmas. But while we are neither kids nor parents, we're stuck in Holiday limbo.

On the bright side, my Mommy still fills my stocking on Christmas Eve, although last year she did it while I was still awake and sitting on the couch. I watched her do it. Seriously Mom, how am I supposed to believe in Santa Claus if you do stuff like that. You're killing the Virginia in me, that's what. I told her that, too. Her response was that she was tired and wanted to go to bed. Apparently tricking us into thinking a fat man leaves presents every year was easier when we went to bed at seven thirty. I say her excuses find no sympathy from me.

Literary Twin

About six nine twelve a long time ago, somewhere or other, I was asked who my literary twin was. And when I say I, I mean that I was part of a large poll that included the question "Who do you feel is your literary twin?"

I don't know what I answered, but whatever it was, I was wrong.

I know I was wrong because I know I didn't answer "Anne Shirley", and there is no question that she and I are the same person, barring hair color. And a BA.

I have just reread four of the eight Anne novels by LM Montgomery, and I giggled as I read, just because I was seeing myself in the pages. Idealistic, dramatic, prone to stopping in the middle of a task because my imaginings had gotten in the way. It's as if someone bottled my childhood character and wrote a book about her.

It isn't even just my childhood character, though. I still imagine things, constantly. Ridiculous things, too, the same as Anne. I am only slightly less vocal about it than she is, and I don't believe I ever kissed a flower.

I even married Gilbert Blythe, although he says his name is Paul.

The funny thing is that, as I have grown up, I see more of Marilla Cuthbert in myself, especially in the way I deal with the children I care for. No-nonsense, firm, not given to flights of fancy EVER. I was a bit appalled at fist, but I'm not altogether sure that it's a bad thing. I just have to be careful to temper the Marilla with the Anne.

I do love reading the Anne books. I feel that, if I could only step through the pages into her world, she and I would be "kindred spirits" together.

Valley

The interesting thing about being a practicing Christian is that the phrase "Everything Happens for a Reason" takes on a whole new brand of meaning. Because we believe in an actual being who takes a definitive interest in our lives, patterns emerge that seem to have the holy thumbprint on them. Frustratingly, the reason for certain things happening doesn't often become clear until much later, which gives one cause to empathize with the children of Israel when God said "Yea, walk around the wall, then shout and blow your horns. The walls will fall down, I swear". For those that don't know the end of the story, the walls did fall down, and the day was won for the Israelites.

In a world without walls that need tumbling, we have other trials that seem to be just as daunting. Take Saturday, when Paul and I received three, count em', three bills we were not expecting, all of them 3 digits, and one of them edging in on four. We can't afford any of them.

I have no earthly idea why God is choosing right now to allow this to happen, or what he is trying to tell us. Perhaps we have gotten so proud of ourselves overcoming debt that we have forgotten who the praise really goes to, and He is now knocking us back, Gideon-style, to remind us that the battle, financial or otherwise, is his, not ours. In case you are unfamiliar with the story, when Gideon was readying himself to take the Hebrew army against the Mideonites, God told him to send all but 300 men home, so that it would be obvious that their victory was miraculous. Sometimes God send us into these situations with the knowledge that to overcome them would be a miracle.

Whatever the reason, we are being given, in this admittedly horrific situation, an opportunity. It hit me recently that God is not a passive entity. He is active in our lives, constantly molding and teaching and giving opportunity to grow. Maybe out of this will grow a testimony to his faithfulness, a newly remembered trust in his promises, or a humility in the knowledge that the battle is always the Lord's.

My prayer now is that we rejoice in the fire and in the valley, and that, though we are afraid(which we are) and discouraged (which we definitely are), we will remember that God has never failed us.

Apology

It's very upsetting when you are angry at someone for very good reasons, and you have thought all day about what you will say to them when you next see them about how terrible they are and how long-suffering you have been, and then they show up at your work with the words "I'm sorry, I was being dumb. I love you so much"



Because then you're the jerk.



But really, how can you stay mad when you have something this darn attractive apologising:
Love you, my love. Forever and ever.

Harry Potter re-read; an update

Spoilers. yup.




Half Blood Prince makes me weep. Big, fatty, mournful tears.
I'm not even sure what to say about this book, except that JK Rowling, beginning with the fifth book, took the series to a whole new level of epic. Suddenly it's not just a little boy with not so little issues. Now we're tackling the price of war, the fact that sometimes everything does NOT end up ok, and sometimes, it's not fair who lives and who dies.

Before discussing the big moments, though, how wonderful is the normalcy of school life? Harry still has to deal with difficulties on the Qudditch pitch, piles of homework and the madness of the inner workings of the female mind. Life does not stop moving simply because evryone is in mortal peril. It's so beautifully, perfectly, adolescently normal. Now, onto business.

Dumbledore's death makes me dissolve into tears every time I read it, because it just isn't fair. This book is our first look into Dumbledore as a real, fallible human being, rather than a mentor and benevolent patriarch. He has pain and suffering, he has a past, he makes mistakes, and this is our first chance to see that, and suddenly, he's gone. The sense of hopelessness at his death is awful. Through the entire series, we've gotten the feeling that Dumbledore is all that stood between Voldemort and the Wizarding world. With him gone, that protection ceases to exist. Plus, Rowling's descriptions of the grief each character feels is beautiful and painful at the same time...Hagrid, especially. This huge man, sobbing as though his heart has broken, is somehow more heartbreaking to me than any of the rest of it.

What I love about Rowling is how sympathetic she makes her villains. Voldemort is one of the most hateful, horrific villains ever created, and yet, in the reading of HBP, one finds themselves almost feeling sorry for him. What a terrible childhood, a terrible life. Malfoy, too. We never feel an ounce of sympathy for Malfoy until this book, when we find that, though he has chosen a master who knows nothing of love, Draco does not lack the ability to feel it and act on it himself, as he seeks to do exactly the wrong thing for precisely the right reasons. Murder is never acceptable, but what choice can he feel that he has when the threat of his parents death looms over him? Suddenly, this irrefutably obnoxious bully of a boy is the object of our anger, but also of our pity, and hopefully, of our empathy. What would we do in the same situation? I think Rowling's point is that very few people are truly evil. Mean, yes. Bullies, yes. Foul and terrible, yes, even that. But for the most, even beyond the prejudices and the cruelty, there lies a humanity and an ability for love and compassion, even if it is limited to one's own family.

Sigh. I always have to take a little while after this book before I read anything else...Deathly Hallows IS out in my car, though, and there's really no point wasting time...

Oh, JK Rowling...

There are major spoilers in this of the Harry Potter books. Maybe. There might be, so if you haven't read them, I don't recommend reading this. (ETA: Yea, major spoilers. Don't read it if you haven't read the books. Just don't)
Also, this isn't a review. It's just me babbling on about the book. I give all the Harry Potter books five stars, and of course you should read them. Duh.










Now, to business

I just finished Goblet of Fire, and, after wiping away the tears that Dumbledore's end of the year toast to Cedric Diggory tend to bring, I looked back on the book and realized, again, why GoF is one of my favorites of the series (next to Deathly Hallows).

For one thing, who wasn't completely fooled by the whole Mad-Eye Moody thing? When Voldemort is going on and on about his faithful servant stationed at Hogwarts, you're thinking, the whole time "Snape! He HAS been bad, this whole time! I knew it!!" But then it turns out that it was really Barty Crouch Jr, masquerading as Moody, and your mind has been blown, Potter-style.

Also, S.P.E.W. You have to love how beautifully fair-minded Hermione is, and how dedicated to her cause. I also love that this has almost nothing to do with the actual storyline, but it gives this amazing sense of reality to the whole thing, in a "See? He isn't always saving the world! Sometimes he's stealing food from the school kitchens!". Brings the whole thing back down to earth a little, and gives you a good giggle over the ridiculousness of the whole thing.

And Rita Skeeter. What a fantastic character. Not as hateable as Umbridge, or as terrifying as Voldemort. She isn't evil, but you certainly want to give her a good slap. Her whole story is great. For one thing, I didn't even notice the Beetle references the first time I read the book. They are so small, I don't know if anyone did, and so, of course, when Hermione randomly slams her hand down in the Hospital wing, she just seems like she's a bit crazy. For another, this whole storyline, other than setting up plot points in Order of the Phoenix, of course, shows off another aspect of Hermione's personality. After seeing how very capable of revenge she is, I don't know that I would ever want to get in her way...ever. Hermione really comes into her own in this book, and, as she is one of my very favoritest characters, I love it so very much.

The adolescent awkwardness of this book is absolutely delicious, and the beginning buds of the Ron/Hermione relationship are so entertaining to watch as they struggle to blossom.

I leave you today with one of Dumbledore's greatest speeches:

"We can fight (Voldemort) only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory"

Evangalism

Evangelicals are an interesting lot. They also get a large amount of bad press, so I thought I'd come to their aid and clear up a few things.

The problem is that there is a great aversion among the general public to people forcing their opinions on other people. Usually this doesn't actually translate to forcing anything. Rather, it is a euphemism for "They think I'm wrong!" We, sadly, live in a world that believes the logical fallacy that all viewpoints are equally true, and that if you have the audacity NOT to believe that all viewpoints are equally true, you are forcing your opinion on people.

By the way, I call it a logical fallacy because it is. All viewpoints cannot be equally true. It's impossible. It's closely related to the idea that something is true for you because you believe it. Sadly, as much as I may believe the sky is green with red polka dots does not make it so, even for me. But I digress.

Evangelicals. There are several factions of them that take it too far. The Westboro Baptist Church comes to mind (I will not link to that horrific website. Google it if you're curious), as do the many crazies who stand on street corners, damning all they see to a fiery eternity. These are not the evangelicals I would have you think of. Think of the quieter evangelicals. The ones who cling to their faith and truly believe that you should believe in it as well. The ones who may have argued with you (for the record, they shouldn't have) over Christianity's validity and grew increasingly frustrated as you refused to convert. I have been that evangelical. We are seen as a bit pathetic and misguided. Why can't they just let people think what they wish and leave everyone to their own beliefs? Why do they have to insist that everyone believe as they do? What judgemental people!

Here's the scoop on that. Most evangelicals are not aiming for judgemental. They ascribe to a belief that, for one, claims inherently to be the only way to salvation. There is no way around that claim in Christianity, and it is made, not by Christians themselves, but by the cornerstone and deity of the faith! Christ did not claim to be a way, or even the best way. He claimed to be the ONLY way. For two, they are commanded to tell other people. Not asked, not suggested. Commanded. For three, you have to understand the way the evangelical sees the world. The evangelical see themselves (or should see themselves, if they are honest) as a sinner whose only salvation was Christ. Therefore, they look around at the world and see a world full of people headed for a terrible, horrific fate. To an evangelical, it's as if the whole world is dying of cancer, and they have been handed the cure, but no one will believe them. An evangelical feels like they are screaming "This doctor cured me! He gave me the cure, and I don't have to die! I'll take you to him! He can cure you too!!" and everyone else just says "I don't see this doctor. I don't believe you!" as they continue toward a painful death, trying myriad other cures that do not work or work for only a little while, when the true cure is so easily given. Try for a moment to empathize with how frustrating that must be, for someone who truly believe in only two roads, and sees the majority of the world headed down the wrong one.

The evangelistic spirit does not seek to be right, or to "win" by converting X amount of souls. Yes, there will be those whose pride gets in the way and who debate with you and lose sight of the message, but cut these some slack. By their own admission, they are not perfect, only forgiven.

Sadly, today's evangelical finds little opportunity to proselytize loudly. In today's world of "believe what you will, but leave me alone", the mere mention of Jesus's name is enough to shut down the communicative channels, sometimes permanently. Most have been reduced to being "lifestyle witnesses", living well and hoping someone will someday ask.

I am a terrible evangelical Christian. I struggle with the daily life of someone who strives to be like Christ. I struggle internally with my faith. But I know the road I am on leads to paradise, and I wish you were on it with me. To all those I have not done a good enough job of telling this to, forgive me.

This post is dedicated to Daniel Ian Rosoff, for whom I did not do enough. For him, I was and am burdened with a love that is as close to Christ's love for humanity as I ever care to come. I pray constantly that someone better than I will show him the way to Christ.

It is also dedicated for Kicae, for whom I did just enough. I look forward to the day I see him again, and we will need no interpreter.

Superbowl

As my beloved Chargers opted not to make it to the Superbowl this year, I wasn't insanely interested, except for the commercials, which, sadly, I missed most of due to my SIL's recent acquisition of Sims 3. It's fun, if less than user-friendly. However, to review:

Previews: The previews for Alice in Wonderland and the Wonderful World of Harry Potter have me salivating for both. The one for AIW in particular was simply lovely. The preview for Robin Hood was decent, but after having read Stephen Lawhead's Hood, I don't know that I'll be satisfied with a film rendition of anything else.

Commercials: Doritos was the victor this year, with the little kid and his order to "Keep yo' hands off my mama, Keep yo' hands of my Doritos". Snickers came in a close second, if only for the use of Betty White, who I can't believe is still as alive as she is.

Tebow: The whole world just needs to knock it off with the whole Tebow thing. I didn't see the halftime show, but the controversy leading up to it was preposterous. To all the Anti-Tebow Ad people - Shut up. CBS can show whatever they want when they are the ones airing the Superbowl. They are a television station. They aren't required to be non-partisan, and Tebow's mother is certainly entitled to her freedom of speech, and the church which funded the commercial is free to spend their money however they want. To all the Pro-Tebow Ad people - Shut up. Gloating over this woman's freedom of speech is not classy. If a Pro-choice woman had done what she did, you wouldn't be talking about her freedom of speech, you'd be yelling about how inappropriate it is for someone to push a political agenda during the Superbowl.

The Saints - Well played, Gentlemen. Well played.

Can I Just Say..

Stephen Lawhead is slowly becoming my favorite author. I am currently in the middle of Hood, and it is blowing my mind. In a good way.

Sadly, however, when asked by T, my oldest charge, what I was reading, this is the conversation that ensued:

T: Whatcha reading, Ms. Rai?
Me: Hood. It's a reworking of the story of Robin Hood.
T: Who? (side note: WHO!?!?!?!?!)
Me: Robin Hood.
T: *blank stare* (at this point, panic is rising in me)
Me: Robin Hood...you know, legendary hero..."rob from the rich to feed the poor"?
T: He STOLE from people!?
Me: *sigh*

People ask me why I want to be a teacher. This is why. Because kids don't know who Robin Hood is.

Followers!

Five people follow my blog. I'm actually quite thrilled about that. It satisfies the needs of the attention whore in me.

Observations for today -

- The Diva Cup = Woman's greatest invention. It's not gross, I promise.

- Eight months is the awesomest age on a baby. B (my charge) is basically the coolest kid ever.

- I've read over 6000 pages this month...well...not this month. Last month...the one that ended two days ago. That's a heckava lot of pages. That's a dissertation...times 3...or 6. How long is a dissertation?

- I have the best librarians. I went to the library yesterday, accompanied by my husband, who NEVER goes to the library, but took the opportunity of sneaking kisses in empty aisles, which made me feel like we were in high school. It was not a bad feeling. Anyway, we were getting ready to leave, and one of the librarians walks by and says to me "They sang your song on the Grammys last night, and I thought of you!" I don't need to ask which one. My name is Rhyannon, only one letter different that the title of the Stevie Nix song "Rhiannon". What astounded me is that this woman, who sees hundreds of people a day, remembered not only my face, but my name, and rememebred it enough to want to let me know that Taylor Swift and Stevie Nix did a duet of my song on the Grammy's. Hows that for making a girl feel special?