Empyrean Bestowal, Part II: Hope Revealed

A Visit from Red
To read Part I, click here!

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Within six feet, my foot slipped, and I hit the pebbly ground, slicing my hands, face, arms, and legs. I closed my eyes as I began to feel the familiar pain of sliding down a rocky slope. But wait, I wasn't sliding. I jerked my head up to see the Stranger holding on to one of my bloody, numbed hands. He pulled me up; I don't know how He did it. Somehow, He did not fall. Sooner than I expected, I stood before Him, though it was I who was panting, and not He.

 

He put His hand on my shoulder, and explained. "You can't do it yourself. Let Me lead, and you follow."

 

The road...it did not become easy of a sudden. The first ditches we mounted were ones I thought I knew to be insurmountable. He went before me, and somehow always gained the upper edge of the trench. Then, He would reach down for me. He'd pull me out the hole, and I know not how He managed to always do so, for the ditches were great.

I recognized many of these pitfalls. Most of them, on my downward, backsliding way, I had willingly slid into, thankful for a brief respite. Some, I know, were caused by my sliding. But one and all, both the ditches I had made and those I had fallen into, He pulled me out of. After every ditch and bramble, I found it easier to trust Him, grasping His hand with mine as He lifted me out from the depths. At first, I tried to hurry the process of getting up. Running, climbing or scurrying, up the ditches' side, I would inevitably fail. It was only when He was there to help me, and I let Him work with me, that I was able to mount those looming barriers. 

 

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At last, we reached a part in the road that slowly leveled out. Looking ahead, I saw before me a city of wondrous size resting upon the summit. Even from the distance yet before us, it shone like a lamp on a stand. As we journeyed nearer, time seemed to slow, so anxious was I to reach the Shining End. However, this last leg did not take long; although time seemed to last forever, only moments had passed before we stood beneath the jasper wall, in front of a gate fashioned of pearls. (There were three like it, and we entered by the middle). I was brought through it to the Palace of the King, along streets of gold. It is indescribable - the awesomeness of the city and the Palace within. But all grew dim - the gold, the sapphires, the emeralds, the countless other jewels and gems, the multitude of palace servants honoring the King - when I saw Him - the King of kings, the Lord of Lords, the Alpha and Omega - and the Lamb, seated at the right hand of God, Who left His throne above and gave His all for me.

 

I fell to my knees. What a Blessing I had received, without it belonging to me at all: that the King of the universe, the Creator of all, God Himself, came to me, that I might live with Him. He sent His Son down the path of life, to save me from my own destructive ways. "...Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost." (I Timothy 1:15b). May I never forget this ultimate blessing, the Greatest of Ethereal Treasures!

Empyrean Bestowal, Part I: The Final Hope of Mundi Cursum

A Visit from Red

Ahhh, friends, what can I say to you about Josh, or "Red" as he is called in the blogging world? He's my friend and partner in crime adventure. He has impeccable taste in books and amazing potential with the violin. He's learning the bagpipes. He's attentive and generous. He's the guy who seats me at dinner each night, who will be in stitches with me over something nobody else in the room finds funny (their loss), who's game for just about anything, but who maintains a balance of common sense that some of us...require. What better way to wrap up this party than with a fabulous allegory he wrote? Be patient...Part II will appear on Monday. :)

Allow me the pleasure of introducing my 15-year-old brother, Red.

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I was on Mundi Cursum, travelling like the rest. The downward slope was not too great, but at times I would find myself losing my foot hold. At other times, I would collapse into one of the deep ditches, scattered on the road at frequent intervals. This was not as bad as it may seem at first; for, while the ditch's top would be parallel to the road, the road's great slant allowed a certain ease in exiting these ditches. Naturally, one climbed out on the side that led to the down-going road, for it was impossible to climb up the slope. I had seen some try, and even tried myself; but climbing only threw the person further down the path, with a cascade of dirt and rocks following him. All who tried never, ever succeeded...at least, any of the individuals I'd seen.

 

There were many beliefs about where the road led. Some asserted that it led to a luscious plain, just beyond the thick fog (the fog - such a strange aroma it held...). Others thought that at the bottom of this hill was another hill, and another, and another, until one could find a way to extricate himself from this endless journey. Still others believed that we would die on the trail, and that would be it. These - mostly hopeless - beliefs drove many to attempt the climb upward, but after the inevitable failure, the upward trek seemed evermore unfeasible.

 

We could not exit the path off to the side, for a wide, deep ditch filled with bramble as long as a man flanked the path. More than likely, some had ventured to cross the ditch, but I did not know any who were so foolish. Death certainly met those who tried. The situation was fatally grim. Some, in desperation, threw themselves forward, hoping to reach the end before they died. Their cries were the last we heard of them. I just wanted to get somewhere, and in my youth firmly believed in a "better place;" but years of aimless, tiresome, and endless travelling changed that; I, too, no longer contested, but confirmed, the assertion that the path was meaningless.

 

That's when I met Him.

 

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He looked like the rest. Apparently, He wasn't an able climber...that's what I first thought. Cuts, bruises, and multiple wounds adorned Him. I had seen Him for some time, for instead of stumbling down the path with all, He was struggling upward. He paused at every person; His words were spoken earnestly, though gently, and never hurried. I saw those with whom He spoke look upward, back at Him, and then shake their heads, continuing their descent. Finally, I reached Him (or, He reached me...which is, I believe, the more proper verbiage).

 

"My son, do you care to travel upward?" He asked. I, like the others, turned my gaze to the path behind me.

 

"Why, Sir?"

 

His steadfast gaze held mine as He answered. "Because this road leads to death. Upward leads to life." Again, I glanced to the towering slope, which appeared to have a sharper incline, more pits, and greater brambles. Many of the ditches spanned the whole road. They would be impossible to climb out of, if one attempted the feat.

 

"Can You...how will You bring me up?" I had seen some try. All had failed. For an answer, His steady, kind eyes held mine. With that, I did not need any other answer: I knew that this Man had the ability to make it to the top. I, exhausted of this road, the falling, the cuts, summoned the resolve to grasp this final straw of hope. My head sank in acknowledgement, and I turned my back on the Cursum's plummet.



30 Day Book Challenge! Day 27: Surprise!

Day 27: What is a book with the most surprising plot twist or ending?

I'm sure I wouldn't know. I'm not usually a fan of the genre of books that throws surprising, jerking plot twists in that leave you spinning. I generally read books where at least the emotion - if not the details - of the end is fairly predictable. Maybe that's boring, but it's the truth. The only book I can think of that I positively jumped up-and-down with shock at the direction of the plot was:

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Black as Night is the second book in the series I spoke of here, and, of course, I can't really tell you what the plot twist is about! However, the "surprise" speaks volumes about Regina Doman's ability to follow the fairy-tale plot (here, the story of "Snow White") and still keep you guessing. The surprise shouldn't be one; it makes completely logical sense when one keeps in mind the story of Snow White. Yet, I found myself shocked when all the pieces fell together!

It's a story of pain, grudges, estrangement, reconciliation, and forgiveness. Little did Bear know that his hesitancy in reaching out to his father - reaching over innumerable lists of wrongs done and hatred given - could have such devastating implications, not just in his spirit, but in the physical world. From the hilarious seven friars (who take the place of the seven dwarves) to the chilling, inexplicable pursuit of Blanche by the head of the Mirror Corporation, this story keeps you guessing as to what the outcome may be...

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"Bear,

I was thinking about our last conversation.

I don't know if I told you before that this summer at work I met a man who is dying, and I've been visiting him. He has no visitors except for me. Why? Because he won't forgive the people who hurt him, including his relatives and his sons. Now he's dying alone - well, practically alone. I'm the only visitor he has, and he doesn't seem to be well taken care of, so I've kept visiting him, even though it's sad to be around someone so bound by the past. It's very sad and so senseless. Even terrifying.

All I can think is that I don't want to see you become like this. I don't want to see you hardened, like this man is, by years of unforgiveness.

Not that I want to change you. But it seems that your past has a hold on you. Do you think that maybe you can't find peace and direction in your life because, on some level, you won't forgive?

I can only say this to you because you're my friend. Maybe seeing so much this summer has made me bolder. Or just more anxious that my friends and family don't end up like this man.

I'm sorry if this hurts you. But I thought you should know.

With love,

Blanche"
 

30 Day Book Challenge! Day 24: Social Renown

Day 24: What is a book you wish more people would have read?

Hmmm...I admit it, I asked my little bro for advice on this question. Basically, I think it would be incredible if more people would have read all the books I've read, but that's not specific enough. Therefore, my answer (thanks to Zachary) is:

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The Princess and the Goblin is another George MacDonald I grew up on. It's the tale of Princess Irene (who is a true princess!), who is never permitted to see the evening sky because of grotesque, resentful, soft-footed-no-toes goblins who lurk about in the dark. It's the tale of Curdie, the coal-miner's son, who works deep in the home of the goblins - the dark underground coal mines - and thus discovers the secret plot of the goblins' to kill all in the castle and kidnap the princess. It's the tale of Princess Irene's mysterious and magical, but undeniably good grandmother, who is really her "more greats than you can imagine" grandmother, and who, depsite her age, has no age, and is invisible to those who don't believe. It is a lovely, fantastic, imaginative fairy tale about faith, honor, sacrifice, and love.

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"That same morning, early, the princess woke in a terrible fright. There was a hideous noise in her room - of creatures snarling and hissing and racketing about as if they were fighting. The moment she came to herself, she remembered something she had never thought of again - what her grandmother told her to do when she was frightened. She immediately took of her ring and put it under her pillow. As she did so, she fancied she felt a finger and thumb take it gently from under her palm. 'It must be my grandmother!' she said to herself, and the thought gave her such ourage that she stopped to put on her dainty little slippers before running from the room."

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"'I've brought Curdie, grandmother. He wouldn't believe what I told him, and so I've brought him.'

'Yes - I see him. He is a good boy, Curdie, and a brave boy. Aren't you glad you have got him out?'

'Yes, grandmother. But it wasn't very good of him not to believe me when I was telling him the truth.'

'People must believe what they can, and those who believe more must not be hard upon those who believe less. I doubt if you would have believed it all yourself if you hadn't seen some of it.'

'Ah! yes, grandmother, I daresay. I'm sure you are right. But he'll believe now.'

'I don't know that,' replied her grandmother.

'Won't you, Curdie?' said Irene, looking round at him as she asked the question.

He was standing in the middle of the floor, staring and looking strangely bewildered....

'I don't see any grandmother,' answered Curdie gruffly.

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What George MacDonald's have you read?
 

30 Day Book Challenge! Day 6: Sadness

Before I get started, I have to share this quote with you that I read in George MacDonald's Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood last night:

"My own conviction is, that the poetry is far the deepest in us, and that the prose is only broken-down poetry; and likewise that to this our lives correspond. The poetic region is the true one, and just, therefore, the incredible one to the lower order of mind; for although every mind is capable of the truth, or rather capable of becoming capable of the truth, there may lie ages between its capacity and the truth. As you will hear some people read poetry so that no mortal could tell it was poetry, so do some people read their own lives and those of others."

Isn't that a beautifully-expressed thought? It is more or less the same idea as these quotes from Shadow of the Bear, or The Last Battle: the realization that what we can see, what we can touch, what we experience in the physical world, is not all there is in life, and indeed, is - by far - not the most important or most beautiful part. Some people forget, or don't ever come to know, this - and no one can ever know it completely until he moves from this life to the place where Truth dwells - but those of us who see a glimmer of the truth today are filled with the joy of anticipation. We are filled with the sense of longing for something more real and more beautiful that is, as C.S. Lewis says, "more desirable than any other satisfaction." Do you ever get that sort of ache-y feeling?

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Day 6: What is a book that makes you sad?

At first, I just thought of books that I cried while reading (The Christmas Shoes and - though I don't really know why, now - Saddlebag Parson), but those didn't really seem to fit the bill, somehow. And then I remembered the first time I actually read...

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They say not to judge a book by its cover, but the cover and pictures of this particular edition are part of what made it such a lovely read and story (I just learned that it took 4 years to complete the over-50 oil paintings it contains). And yes, though it makes me sad, it is lovely...and very little like the Disney movie everyone thinks of. Exciting, comfortable, and sweet, yet heart-wrenching at the end:

"Then the window blew open as of old, and Peter dropped in on the floor.

He was exactly the same as ever, and Wendy saw at once that he still had all his first teeth.

He was a little boy, and she was grown up."

How tragic that was! For Wendy to grow up and yet have her friend still be in the younger age. The beautiful age of children. Because children can see the poetry in life far better than the rest of us. They can remember that princes and princesses and dragons are real, and merely known by different names. They can remember that we are princes and princesses. They can remember to see life as an adventure. They are continually amazed and awed when the sun comes up each morning, bathing the sky in color. They can marvel at a bug's secret winding passages through blades of grass. They have eyes. They remember.

Peter Pan is a book that makes me sad, because it is, in the end, the story of one who grew up and forgot, even after so many special adventures. Wendy cried that she had forgotten; she was sorry for it - but despite her grief, she had. As I grow up, I hope I will never forget, will never stop seeing the poetry, will never turn my life and others' into mere prose. Perhaps this is why the book touches me so poignantly.




Do you have a book that makes you sad?


30 Day Book Challenge! Day 4: "Guilty Pleasure"?

A right interesting question for today:

Day 4: What is your "guilty pleasure" book?

Whenever asked for a guilty pleasure, there must needs be a confession behind it, and here is mine: I have not, to date, outgrown my love for the fairy tale (and I hope I never will). There are so many things wonderful and real about "prince and princess" stories; they are beautiful because they can reveal truth in a new light, and cause you to think about real things in a different way. At least, this is the case for many of them. There are some, however, which are pure sugar: fun, sweet, entertaining reads, with a smile at the end, that one has to be careful not to eat too much of too frequently (lest you rot your literary teeth and find they've grown too weak to tear off meat). This is my definition of a "guilty pleasure" book: a treat that should not be indulged in too often. And by such definition, I submit to you...

A twist on the story of Cinderella, Ella Enchanted is the tale of a girl who is given a most unusual (and not-quite-as-good-as-it-sounds) fairy gift at birth: obedience. Although forever compliant on the outside, she struggles to defy the spell that denies her the gift we often fail to be thankful for, the gift of free will. In the end, of course, love will be the answer - but in the meantime she must suffer the thoughtless commands of those who love her, the cruel commands of those who hate her, and the potentially fatal commands of those who wish to destroy her and all she holds dear.

"Anyone could control me with an order. It had to be a direct command, such as 'Put on a shawl,' or 'You must go to bed now.' A wish or request had no effect. I was free to ignore 'I wish you would put on a shawl' or 'Why don't you go to bed now?' But against an order I was powerless.

If someone told me to hop on one foot for a day and a half, I'd have to do it. And hopping on one foot wasn't the worst order I could be given. If you commanded me to cut off my own head, I'd have to do it.

I was in danger at every moment."

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What is your favorite candy-book?

 

30 Day Book Challenge! Day 1: Best Book of Last Year

All has been rather quiet around here for a while. It ought to have been! Between scheduling recitals, and having parents gone every weekend for a month, and birthdays, and summer planning, and Mother's Day, and reading, and the beginning of summer parties (we're going to the first - a roasting party - tomorrow evening!), and the 4H-ers starting to vamp up for the fair in August, our lives have been pretty full.

Believe me when I say, though, that the silence has not been due to lack of material - I have several posts bouncing around in my head at the moment - but rather from a lack of blogging time. (Not because I have no spare moments, but because I've been filling them with books instead of notebooks...check out the "Reading" tab for more on that.) So, in an effort to combine the two - reading and blogging, that is - I have embarked, commencing today, on the "30 Day Book Challenge". *sounding trumpets*

I will not, can not, promise to only give one answer to each question - but I will really-and-truly try my hardest. Nonetheless, there may be days when I am forced, against my will, as it were, to give at least "extra suggestions" to the day's query. Time shall tell.

So, without further ado, let us begin.

Day 1: What is the best book you read last year?

I had a sadly small amount to choose from for this question (although that didn't keep from deliberating between two different titles) since I read very little last year, but in the end I decided upon:

The Shadow of the Bear is definitely a candy book, yet one that was both exciting and enjoyable to read (as were the other two in the series). Usually "retold fairy tales" set in the modern day are a let-down. They either use completely off-the-wall, bizarre events to keep the story following a fairy tale, or else become entirely predictable. Add to that the "modern" slant of compromised heroes and heroins with no moral fortitude or higher calling, and you find many of these tales belong in the garbage or the burn pile (depending on the level of the fairy story's degradation).  The Shadow of the Bear belongs where all good stories do, in your hands or on your shelf. While the book itself is not particularly well-written, it is a tale well-told. In these pages, you find a story so compelling and realistic that only a scent of "long ago and far away" (despite the contemporary, New York City setting) reminds you of the story's origins. In these pages, you find a story so complexly-woven that the authoress, Regina Doman, keeps you guessing at the outcome, even when you know the "happily ever after" ending! In these pages, you find a story so sweet, so funny, so suspenseful that it will be nigh-impossible to put it down before the final page.

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"Have you ever felt that there was something going on in life that not everyone was aware of?" Rose asked, turning her mug around in her hands. "As though there's a story going on that everyone is a part of, but not everybody knows about? Maybe 'story' isn't the right word - a sort of drama, a battle between what's peripheral and what's really important. As though the people you meet aren't just their plain, prosaic selves, but are actually princes and princesses, gods and goddesses, fairies, gypsies, shepherds, all sorts of fantastic creatures who've chosen to hide their real shape for some reason or another. Or have forgotten who they really are. Have you ever thought of that?"

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The Shadow of the Bear. My favorite read from last year. Have you read it?

{I would love to hear your answers to the questions as I go through them, too. Leave a comment and let me know! :)}