* impossABILITY *

“In order to attain the impossible, one must attempt the absurd.”

– Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (Spanish writer, author of the masterwork ‘El quijote’, 1547-1616)


“Love feels no burden,

thinks nothing of trouble,

attempts what is above its strength,

pleads no excuse of impossibility;

for it thinks all things lawful for itself,

and all things possible.”

– Thomas Kempis

My friend and Central Asia travel partner, Laura, assembled a DREAM BOOK consisting of the dreams of students at Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry, where I am currently finishing my second year. I suggest browsing our dreams here:

http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2167122

Be inspired. Write out your own dreams. Smash boxes. Dream the “impossible” dream. : )

Eden’s House

I am presently in a writing class at Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry. Today we had ten minutes to “free write” based on a prompt. I wrote an anecdote from my childhood. My writing group adored it. So, I opted to post it here. May it awaken your imagination and your hope for Eden. Eden is a real picture of blissful union with God: chatting, walking in the breath of the day, nurturing creation, and co-reigning with Him. Jesus made the reality of Eden attainable to us. We can stroll in unbroken communion with our Creator and King. God longs for us to do so: to dream with Him, to create with Him, and to transform the world with Him. This partnership is the fruit of love. It will bring heaven and Eden to earth.

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Eden. It’s one of my favorite words. I love the sound of the long “e’s” – it seems to connote the very evergreen nature of that original garden of promise. Growing up, my backyard was quite Eden-esque. There were eight fruits that grew in our yard: apricots, grapefruit, oranges, apples, figs, plums, grapes, and, of course, the strawberry patch tucked next to the house. To my wide blue eyes, this made the place all-the-more fantastical, a veritable Wonderland of supply and self-sustenance. Adding possibility to possibility, there was also a two story playhouse which my dad and grandpa built for me.

That play house was my house in the sky, a spacesuit to my imagination, and my very own first home. There were cupboards, counters, a mini-kitchen, and stairs leading to a tiny upstairs bedroom with a wooden bed only a child could fit into. And then there was the balcony. The balcony came off of the bedroom. And it was so close to my parents’ own balcony which came from their bedroom; a seven year old’s legs could easily span the distance.  That distance was the gap between a reality my mom designated and a reality I designated. The one I designated was much more inventive.

And so, while my mom was usually occupied in the kitchen downstairs, I would make my escape from normalcy. I would pop downstairs to let my mom know I would be “reading.” Then I would read for 30 seconds in my bedroom, trying to substantiate my claim to be “reading”; and soon I would be quietly tip-toeing through my parents’ bedroom, out to their balcony, and from their balcony to my little playhouse balcony. From there anything might happen.

Sometimes I would stay in my playhouse, I’d curl up in the tiny bed just before a thunderstorm hit. My house, the chitty-chitty-bang-bang of houses, would instantly transform into a boat. I would rescue people from foreign lands and pull them to safety. At times, the bottom floor would begin to flood! In these moments I was left with no other option than to walk on the counter and even stand on top of the front door of the house as I pivoted that open door using my hands on the ceiling. (Good thing those hinges were strong.) Those were dangerous times. Being seven and knowing that the future of the whole world rests on whether you can get a green bowl of your last earthly provisions from the kitchen table without touching the floor, is very demanding (at first). Yet the thanks of entire people groups and animal families was always worth the risk.

Risk. I thrived on risk. I would create it perpetually: life and death scenarios, streams of hot lava, small children (and even babies) stranded on miniscule sinking islands. Nothing ever stopped me. When a fleck of hot lava burned my forearm, I pressed on. When a lightning bolt split my life raft in half, I kept going. When all the other humans and animals around me gave up hope, I hope-d still. That playhouse encased in Eden was my place of peace. There I established the reality. There I knew I was significant, able to save lives and transform the world. There, I created. Like God created physical somethings from nothings, I created somethings in my mind. Anything was possible. And I knew God was there with me, enjoying my creation and communing with me about our similarities. I was learning how to govern my own Eden. Next to the playhouse’s front door was a sidewalk, the sidewalk was marked with my handprints. “1983” and my hands. I was four years old when I sunk my powerful hands into the ready wet cement. I was learning how to leave my mark. And how to dream things into reality. I’m still learning. I still live in a world where the sidewalks are made of wet cement and the houses are expectant for my hope to give them purpose. I’m thankful I learned how to save lives so many years ago, standing on my playhouse’s front door, reigning over Eden.

This isn't my playhouse, but it is me and my sisters at Storyland.

My Blog’s 2010 Social Life

The technological marvel that is WordPress sent me an email with my blog stats for last year. It’s intriguing and I’m encouraged that many people drank of the golden nectar that sprouts in heaven and flowers in my life on earth. haha. Thanks for stopping by my little house in DigitalLand. There is always a throw blanket to wrap yourself in and a warm fire to heat and inspire your most exorbitantly extravagant dreams.

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The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Fresher than ever.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,800 times in 2010. That’s about 4 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 29 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 42 posts. There were 49 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 127mb. That’s about 4 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was April 9th with 60 views. The most popular post that day was why it is important to raise the dead.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, en.wordpress.com, mail.yahoo.com, mail.live.com, and blogger.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for bride-to-be paralyzed fingers collarbone, selling poetry on etsy, lovesick kim walker albums, love poems, and new jesus culture album.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

1

why it is important to raise the dead April 2010
3 comments

2

VICTORY – something I’m wildly excited about! August 2010

3

my ♥beat March 2009

4

I need a miracle! Isn’t that exciting? August 2010
2 comments

5

Deaf Ears Opened: an oldie but a goodie September 2010