steal away,
steal away,
steal away to Jesus...
steal away,
steal away home...
i ain't got long to stay here.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
and in the midst of the christmas frenzy, she crept out the door for a breath of silence
Thursday, December 25, 2008
The Stable
"There was no place for them at the inn." -Lk. 2:7
Sorry, no space here.
"When Herod the king heard [the wise mens' news], he was troubled ... he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem." -Mt. 2:3, 16
I used to be a ruler. Herod was my name, and, although I didn't personally know this Jesus, I had heard enough about him to decide that he was my ultimate enemy. A King who would grow to be greater than me? Could anyone dare to even think of pushing me off my throne? No, I was the center of the universe. My needs came first, my glory was sought before anyone else's. Could a carpenter's son tell me otherwise? I would not stand for anyone trying to rule over me. To be my guide? To make me conform to a standard other than my own? The thought disgusted me, and I set out to destroy anything that even mildly smacked of this Son of God. Prayers and hymns were put out of my mind. The name of God I dragged through the dust, trying to empty it of its glory. I was certain that the Messiah had to exist somewhere -- in organized religion, maybe, or in stained-glass windows, in nativity sets, or perhaps in the syllables "Jee-zus." So I slayed those things, taking care that not even a fragment of them should remain near me.
I was an innkeeper and I was a ruler. I rejected my savior and persecuted my God. Salvation was for the weak; I sure didn't need it. I had all I wanted: I was rich, and powerful, and important.
Or, at least, I thought I was. But, in reality, I was a sad, sorry sight. A dirty stable, cold and worn to bits, with loose boards and a caving roof. I was smelly and full of waste. My walls were stained and my floor was a sea of wet, sticky mud. I was a foul, disorganized, broken mess.
And God chose to lay the Savior in me.
In my empty manger, God placed the Bread of Life. On my dark, shivering floor, God placed his warmth and light. Into my dirt, God placed the world's purest soul. And into my lonely silence, God placed the sacred cries of a child who would become my King.
It's then I realised that my famous inn and my great kingdom were but illusions. Suddenly, my riches seemed like dust in my hands, and I saw that all my past glory was nothing but a foolish mirage. That knowledge broke me; it hurt to feel my poverty and see my ugliness. But that night, as the star shone over me and as angels sang above my roof, I felt myself starting to become rich in a whole new way. I, the run-down stable, had become a dwelling place of God. My worthlessness was being transformed into purpose, and my affliction into peace.
The innkeeper in me vacated his rooms and the Herod I'd been stepped off of the throne, because now, the King of the galaxies was alive in me.
And, even if I'd had the whole universe laid out before me for the taking, I couldn't have asked for a better gift than that.
Merry Christmas.
Photo from JupiterImages. Verses from ESV.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
We could never guess
tiny little bundle, you
your skin delicately pink
blanketing your warmth
eyes of awe
your beautiful lashes and tiny hands
little noises
the very veins in your eyelids
are melodic
small translucent ribcage
your breath
is bigger than you
and God pours life
between your fingertips
you hold your mother's skin
your purpose here
is bigger than our imagination
we could never guess
but maybe someday
when we dance
through the universe
perfected
we will know
.:.
Dedicated to little Kayleigh, whose story I've been following breathlessly over the past few days. She has already touched my life, and she's changed the world in ways that we might never even guess at until we see the God who sustains her face-to-face. He has plans for her that exceed our imagination. Kayleigh is truly a miracle; please keep her in your heart today.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Seventeen
Note: The date above isn't my actual birthday; I'm not allowed to give the real date online (parents; privacy reasons), but it did happen recently! :)
I turned 17 today.
Before I go deeper into that, let me backtrack for a moment. There's something I need to say about my "sweet 16": honestly, I'm not very proud of it. Somewhere (maybe even on this blog; I can't remember), I called it "a season of realization of my fallenness." I did a lot of things that I was, and am still, ashamed of; and in many ways the year was more a "shrinking" for me than a time of growth.
So it isn't without a little trepidation that I face a new year of life: the year when, God-willing, I will graduate high school, move to a new city, and begin university. I have many regrets about my past: I feel as if I've wasted far more of my life than I should have (and, if you look at my hours and hours of internet surfing, you'll agree) while failing to learn the lessons that are supposed to lead me into adulthood. My "spiritual maturity" level is still set somewhere between the pacifiers and the first steps, when I should be running marathons (1 Cor. 9:24). All my life, I've been rejecting opportunities, shirking responsibilities, and neglecting Jesus, and there's been a nagging hopelessness in me that this year will probably be the same.
However, just a few days before my birthday, God gave me a revelation that has been encouraging me as I enter my 17th year. It's a very simple statement, yet eternally comforting: God doesn't define me by my past.
This truth hit me while I was reading Numbers. What amazed me most about chapter 20 was the fact that God didn't care about Moses' and Aaron's track-record of faith when telling them they would not see the promised land because of their new faithlessness. Who they were at present was more important to him than who they had been in the past.
This truth hit me while I was reading Numbers. What amazed me most about chapter 20 was the fact that God didn't care about Moses' and Aaron's track-record of faith when telling them they would not see the promised land because of their new faithlessness. Who they were at present was more important to him than who they had been in the past.
The incident brought to mind an exchange between Jesus and Peter in the New Testament: Matthew 16, to be exact. The fact that he had just named Peter the Rock of the Church and the keeper of heaven's key didn't stop Jesus from rebuking him as an instrument of satan several minutes later. Jesus was concerned with who Peter was now, not five minutes ago. In the New and Old Testaments alike, the present meant more to God than the past -- the long-lived faith of Moses, Aaron, and Peter lost importance in the face of the present.
I stopped to think about that. Even if I had been an amazing Christian last year, all my past faith and piety would not remove my responsibility for the now. The Bible shows that a faithful past can teach you lessons and equip you with Godly skills, but it cannot do the work that you must do today. It can be a well of encouragement and beautiful memories, but not an excuse to slack off ("I read my Bible every day last year; will I really lose out if I miss a day?").
But what what about a faithless past like mine? The Bible shows us that side of the picture as well -- a notorious theif hangs crucified beside a King, recieving a new life with his last breath. A persecutor escapes a lifelong hunger for the blood of saints, and his murderous hands become palms of apostolic healing. A prostitute faces judgement, wincing at wounds of her past, and is welcomed into God's family. Certainly, God can make good use of broken yesterdays.
But what what about a faithless past like mine? The Bible shows us that side of the picture as well -- a notorious theif hangs crucified beside a King, recieving a new life with his last breath. A persecutor escapes a lifelong hunger for the blood of saints, and his murderous hands become palms of apostolic healing. A prostitute faces judgement, wincing at wounds of her past, and is welcomed into God's family. Certainly, God can make good use of broken yesterdays.
Our pasts -- with all their shame and all their glory -- are in God's hands; to us, he gives a daily gift called the present, and that is what we must focus on. "Today," he tells us. "Today ... do not harden your hearts." So, even though my life so far has been less-than-satisfactory, God isn't going to let it haunt me. He has put away my past, and yearns for me today.
Today.
Today I turn. Seventeen, but not only that.
I turn to Him.
Love, Oksy
Picture from Jupiter Images.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Gary
In my 3-and-a-quarter years of high school, I don't think I ever saw him talk to anyone.
I had him in a couple of my classes. Every day, without fail (excluding test days), he spent the entire period with his head laid down on the table. Sleeping. Or so it seemed -- I mean, it's not like anyone ever bothered to check. He wasn't on my mind a lot -- or ever. I only thought about him when a teacher would ask off-hand in the middle of a lesson, Is that Gary sleeping again? Had he been oblivious to the giggles and the laughter as jokes about him cracked over his head? I knew that he wasn't because, sometimes, he'd lift his head and look up long enough to show that he was not asleep. Yet that didn't stop me from laughing along.
When he looked at you, his eyes would flinch nervously -- or defiantly -- from yours. His expression was fierce. And utterly silent.
I never thought about him. No one ever did. Until Thursday, that is.
On Thursday, Gary brought a home-made bomb to school.
The police were called in. His locker raided, his belongings confiscated, his school records stamped with "Expelled."
It's probably the last I'll ever see of him.
However, it certainly hasn't been the last I've thought of him. My first thought, right when I heard the news, was probably the same one that's running through your mind right now: My gosh -- that could have killed someone! Was he crazy?! How could he?
My second thought was: Well, what did you expect?
The bomb he brought was no joke: no little sparkler or mini-firework. The bomb could have left people blind, disfigured, or worse. But what did I expect? The guy who was, to us, nothing more than some wierd kid who always slept and never talked -- did I expect him to see us as anything more than a homogenous group of jeering, uncaring teenagers? Could I really expect someone upon whom we had never bestowed any value to see our value? We had no regard for his life -- why were we so surprised to find that he had no regard for ours?
In no way am I condoning what he did, or planned to do. I'm merely saying that we'd been doing the same to him for many years, minus the explosives. And I did nothing to set myself apart and show him the love that God has for him.
Thursday evening, I put these thoughts aside for a while to surf some blogs. On one of them, Casting Crowns' "If We Are The Body" came on in the flash music player. I sang along, swaying my head and lifting my eyes at all the appropriate moments.
To God, that must have been one of the most ironic moments of history.
"But if we are the Body
Why aren't His arms reaching?
Why aren't His hands healing?
Why aren't His words teaching?
And if we are the Body
Why aren't His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?
There is a way..."
In my 3-and-a-quarter years of high school, I don't think I ever saw him talk to anyone. Certainly not to myself.
Or maybe, I was the one. Who never stopped to speak. Never stopped to listen.
Name of student changed to protect his identity. Photo from JupiterImages.
Award
I've been awarded a "Thank You Blog Award" by Kaysie of Alabaster Box. My first ever --thanks! :)
In turn, I'd like to award a couple of the bloggers who have helped me "break through" into the blogging world and have supported me by coming by to read and comment on my posts.
Phylicia: Her blog is filled with helpful, relatable, and relevant advice that I believe all girls need to hear. Thank you for taking the time to fill this world with the godly attitudes that it lacks so much, Phylicia! I know I'll be reading your blog for a long time to come!
Ruthie-Roo: She's an absolutely wonderful blogger who really knows how to strike a balance between the light-hearted and the serious when it comes to posting. Her blog is, in turns, heartwarming, smile-inducing, and soul-convicting -- and always God-glorifying.
Laura: She recently deactivated her blog, but I have greatly enjoyed her encouragement and friendship, and I think she deserves this award for everything she's done for me this year! :)
Carmen: Another frequent commenter with a very enjoyable, interesting blog; going through her posts always brings a smile to my face! Thanks Carmen!
Kaysie: Am I allowed to award someone "back"? Hopefully, because I certainly think that Kaysie deserves another one of these awards. She's truly a light in this world, and I'm glad I found her blog, because it has already done a lot in my life.
Have a great friday everyone!
Love,
Oksana
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Wherever Arms are Raised, a Battle is Raging
Moses lifting his hands on the hilltop. There's something about that scene that gets me every time. I can see it right now, even as I type -- the powerful, electrifying strength with which he raised his arms for the first time over the raging battle scene -- the pain that gripped them as they grew unrelentingly heavy and fell to his sides -- the weight of his body slumping down upon the rock -- the weak, numb arms falling into the hands of Aaron and Hur -- the gleaming arrows whipping through the blazing atmosphere -- the victory proclaimed by sunset.
It's so awe-inspiring: that the stuttering, awkward man was chosen to stumble down from the montain of billowing smoke and proclaim the law of God before his people. That the same old man -- overcome by weakness, desperately yoking his tired arms about the shoulders of his descendants -- led his nation to victory. That the man who cried, "Send someone else!" out of the depths of his fears and insecurities would be told, "I send you."
I stand in wonder of the God who pours his strength into our weakness; who does not despise our messy, blundering offerings; whose makes victorious those who have no strength to hold up their own hands.
I see glimmerings of Moses everywhere: in the young man lifting his arms during worship, overcome with waves of doubt and condemnation; in the young woman raising her hands in prayer, crying as she looks back on the life that's brought her to her knees; in the mother raising her newborn above her head and feeling a piercing pain as she remembers the father he will never meet.
Wherever arms are raised, a battle is raging.
Arms raised, falling, crumbling collapsing, descending, embracing, supporting, rising, linked, outstretched, interwoven, unrestrained...
Wherever the day is dying, hope is fading, and sunlight is languishing, the God of light waits to lavish victory upon his people.
I think of Jesus. His arms straining, his body heaving, his weight pulling his hands above his head; his head falling. As the sun began slipping silently towards the horizon, the world saw two arms raised in helpless defeat.
But they weren't. They had been raised in petition, stretched out in forgiveness, lifted with reckless abandon in passionate worship.
And now, supported on either side by two dark, gleaming nails, they were raised in victory.
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The battle was won.
Images not mine; copyright goes to their respective owners.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Live and Let Live
I saw that video a while ago, and was really moved by it. I watched it again, and again, and again, and soon enough, the bigger picture began to unfold. Why is it that we so often avoid things because of our limitations, incompetence, or inabilities? Why, when there are so many other people who can be our support and help us do the things that we alone cannot? Is it just because we want to steal the show? To be the only spotlit, center-of-attention performer -- or else not perform at all?
Seeing this video makes me wonder how much could we do if we could only let others be for us the things that we are not... and do for them what they cannot do. It seems as if we live our lives fruitlessly trying to perform an arabesque without a leg to lift, while our healthy arms dangle uselessly. We try to choose what we want to do, when God has already chosen other roles for us -- roles that might not be as glamorous or fun as those of others, but roles that are perfectly allotted by God to make the Christian body into one complete, unified being.
I mentioned a while ago about the hard (for me) decision to become a writer. I had been jumping from one thing to the next -- trying to teach myself piano, trying to master wheel pottery, trying to learn to sing, trying to learn Italian on my own -- and ended up leaving my gift for writing stagnant and under-nourished. I was like a gardener who planted a hundred different seeds, and spent so much time jumping around from one to the next that none of them ended up growing.
I'm all for trying new things, but there's a difference between a focused, concentrated effort on several key projects, and spreading yourself too thin. I think that, if -- figuratively speaking -- God gave me a "hand" so that I could be a hand to those who have no hand, I should focus on using that hand instead of bemoaning the foot that I don't have... there are others who "be" that foot for me. That's how we are made: there are no trials that have no way out, no deficiencies that cannot be filled in by others.
One of the central characterstics of a servant is to do your part to the best of your ability, and let others do their part. I mean, Jesus, who has absolutely no incompetencies, imperfections, or inabilities, still allows and encourages us to be his hands and feet. It's not that he needs us to do these things for him -- it's that he entrusts us to do his work here on earth. He lets us do it so that we can grow.
I guess we sometimes misinterpret messages such as "expand your horizons," or "do hard things," and turn them into instruments of selfishness. It becomes a race for quantity, not quality. You learn to sing, though you nave neither talent, nor desire, nor passion for it -- you just want to put your hundredth accomplishment on the list of "Things I Can Do." Your lackluster efforts are copied by other people who are looking for easy ways expand their lists. The standards of quality in the music world begin to fall. People who are passionate, anointed musicians get discouraged by the low standards invading the industry, and either fall to meet those standards, or choose a different path.
And all this time, your God-given talent for drawing is left neglected and forgotten by you.
Wouldn't it have been better for everyone if you'd fulfilled your role and let others fulfill theirs? You see, that's what Jesus does -- he lets us do his work so that we can grow from it. Sometimes, you've just got to give up the microphone to the people who were meant to sing -- who will actually grow by singing.
The young woman in the video didn't try to perform lifts using her one arm -- she let the man do that, and he ended up strengthening his arms. Likewise, he didn't try to do jumps and footwork that required two legs -- he left that job to the young lady's strong legs. Together, they reinforced their strengths and filled in each other's weaknesses.
And it was beautiful.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A couple of things
...that I felt like blogging about, but which didn't really deserve separate posts of their own. This post isn't going to have a ton of insight of depth, just a list of interesting and not-so-interesting things that have been going on in my life.
1. MMM is out! The new issue is now up on the website (which has undergone a major redesign). Please click on the cover to your left to go read it. And maybe tell a friend or two... pretty please? :)
2. I'm very busy. I've got a lot of homework and assignments piling up on me, so my blogging will be on the more sporadic side for now. I hope to get back to it soon, because I find that in many ways, it's a really fulfilling exercise -- it prompts you to reflect on your day and search your life for lessons and knowledge that can bless others. So I want to start blogging regularly at some point...
3. Today was the first "serious" frost of the season -- absolutely beautiful. :) Of course, I'm wearing gloves as I type this (I never knew how warm apartments were 'till I went to live in a townhouse) but I'm looking forward to tomorrow's frost.
4. A skunk tried to break into our back door. (I think it was trying to get back at me for using skunks as metaphors for sin/evil a few posts ago. Oops. ;)
5. A couple of weeks ago, something strange happened. In the middle of the night, for no rational or explainable reason, the battery fell out of my alarm clock. Which made no sense, since, for 8 years (yes, my clock is old), generations of batteries have sat tightly in the battery compartment with no problems at all. Anyway, back to the point. So I woke up and put the battery back in. The next night, one of the hands fall off! Wha-? How do you explain that?!
7. Google notebooks is seriously one of the most helpful, useful resources you can find for organizing major school projects. I think I'll start using it to put together ideas and drafts MMM.
8. Apparently, "dwelve" isn't a real word -- the right word is "delve." I honestly never knew that.
9. I need to block out some time to spend with God, because I've been getting very distant lately.
10. I can't wait to get my hands on the new ESV study Bible. It hasn't been available in any book stores in my area, but I really hope it gets stocked soon, because I'm going through the OT right now, and I'd love some visuals and commentaries to help me through.
So there you go... a hodge-podge of things that have happened since my last post. Be back later!
Oksy
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Life is But a Dream
I had a dream today. In it, I was working on a painting for a school project, and somebody I am very close with came up to me and tried to help me. She was more of a hindrance than a help, though, and -- long story short -- she ended up mixing the entire contents of two bottles of paint together so that I no longer had the most important colour I needed to finish the painting with. I lost it. "Get away from me!" I yelled.
Then I woke up. Gee, I thought, that was nothing to get angry over. It was just a dream.
That's the point, God gently told me.
If this had been real life, I can bet you this whole blog that I would have probably reacted in a very similar way. But 'real life' -- this life -- is but a dream compared to all of eternity. Do I really want to look back someday and think, what a thing to get upset about. What a superficial, fleeting, transient matter to get caught up in. How quickly it passed -- how unnecessary was my anger!
Yes God.
That's the point.
Love, Oksana
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Me from my
I've been studying Psalm 34 lately; going through it line-by-line to really savour the meaning of each word. As I was reading, several verses reallys truck me, and have been tumbling about in my head ever since like stones when they are being polished into gems. By now, a clear-enough message has emerged from the rough, but I'm still struggling to find just the words to explain what I mean. I'll try to do my best...
Here are three verses from Psalm 34, each following a distinct pattern:
4: "I sought the Lord and ... he delivered me from all my fears."
5: "The Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles."
19: Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the LORD delivers him out of them all."
I've generally been in the habit of asking God to take my fears, afflictions, and troubles, from me. This Psalm opened my eyes to the fact that, if I want God to change something in my life, I'm the one who has to be moved. You see, God does not deliver your problems from you, he delivers you from your problems, by taking you to higher ground. If you want deliverance, you can't just open one small part of your life to God: you have to let him change everything that has been affected by your sin, and that means he's going to lift you out of your comfortable world and into a place where none of your past can enter.
To illustrate this better, take a moment to imagine a beautiful, comfortable, luxurious room. It's a room that's practically perfect in every way, except for one little thing. A skunk has decided to make one of its corners his residence.
4: "I sought the Lord and ... he delivered me from all my fears."
5: "The Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles."
19: Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the LORD delivers him out of them all."
I've generally been in the habit of asking God to take my fears, afflictions, and troubles, from me. This Psalm opened my eyes to the fact that, if I want God to change something in my life, I'm the one who has to be moved. You see, God does not deliver your problems from you, he delivers you from your problems, by taking you to higher ground. If you want deliverance, you can't just open one small part of your life to God: you have to let him change everything that has been affected by your sin, and that means he's going to lift you out of your comfortable world and into a place where none of your past can enter.
To illustrate this better, take a moment to imagine a beautiful, comfortable, luxurious room. It's a room that's practically perfect in every way, except for one little thing. A skunk has decided to make one of its corners his residence.
You're left with two choices. The first is: take the skunk out of the room. Which -- as you'll know if you've ever had the good fortune of coming near a skunk -- certainly won't make the room smell any nicer! The second choice is to relocate yourself and move to a place where the skunk can't follow. You've not only left the source of the problem, but you're also leaving everything that has been affected by it, as well as sparing yourself any future trouble.
In a spiritual sense, it's the same thing. If you want to be delivered from a sin, you have to realize that your whole life, not just part of it, has been affected. Which means that you can expect a huge upheaval in everything that has been comfortable and familiar to you. God isn't going to weed out the sin and leave you in the same place as you were before, he's going to pluck you out of that situation completely and draw you to a place that may be completely different from anything you've ever known. A place that is closer to him. A place where not a single scrap of your past can survive.
This speaks to me right now, since I've had several problems with my approach to Multi Media Ministry, my e-zine: I feel I'm not glorifying Jesus through it as I should. And I spend so much time making lists of things I need to change and pointing out specific errors and whatnot, when God just wants me to leave behind all of my comfortable, familiar, preconcieved ideas about what this ministry should be, and let him take it to a place that I can't quite comprehend, control, or imagine yet. It's not the problems that need to be removed from my e-zine, it's that the e-zine needs to be moved closer to God.
The only thing I can do is let go.
Love, Oksana
Thursday, October 2, 2008
What I've been doing
The last post hopefully gave you a little update and insight into my thoughts on my lovely new location on this planet... now I'll tell you what's been filling up my time during this literal and figuartive 'season of change' ...
1. Multi Media Ministry. The newest issue of my e-zine (see the link on the sidebar) is in its final stages of production: it's been amazing to see everything coming together. I'm tempted to tell you about an important lesson that God taught me several weeks ago while I was working on a feature that didn't seem to be coming along, but I'll leave that for the next post I have planned. Meanwhile, here's a quick list of what you can expect from the fall 2008 issue: an extensive Photography feature, with work and interviews from several teenage photographers; a back-to-school special feature with dozens of practical ideas and tips on serving God in school; an interview with CCM artist Tayla Hodges; as well as articles on The Rebelution, Ananias and Sapphira, and persecuted Christians. Hope you guys check it out when it's done (next week, God-willing :).
2. Reading Mansfield Park. I was really unsure about whether or not to take this book out of the library -- when I'd looked it up on the web, most of the reviews called it things like 'flat,' 'long-winded,' and 'undimensional.' However, it was the only Jane Austen available at the time, so I decided to take a chance, and I'm so glad I did -- I actually enjoyed it more than Pride and Prejudice. The problem with P&P was that it was a bit too predictable -- predictable enough that the ending was given away on the book's back cover! With Mansfield Park, I had no clue how the story would turn out, even 20 pages from the end. I think part of the reason for that is the 'unidimensionality' that people complained about so much. The characters in the book are indeed so typical, so 'set-in-their ways' and clichéd that they barely ever act out-of-character, so you're left with a lot of suspense over who will give in first. (The characters do end up developing over the course of the story, but in a really natural, slow, and unforced way. I love novels that are allowed to run their course that way). The situations in the story are very real, many of them still relevant to our lives, and I think you'll be surprised at how much food-for-thought you'll find in this novel. Highly recommended!
3. Writing a short story. It's funny -- I started writing about a little girl called Jamie, who was poor (I definitely think Mansfield Park sparked that idea!). She was walking to school during the wintertime and hiding her hat in her pocket because it was a second-hand hat which had belonged to another girl at her school, and Jamie didn't want to reveal her financial situation.
1. Multi Media Ministry. The newest issue of my e-zine (see the link on the sidebar) is in its final stages of production: it's been amazing to see everything coming together. I'm tempted to tell you about an important lesson that God taught me several weeks ago while I was working on a feature that didn't seem to be coming along, but I'll leave that for the next post I have planned. Meanwhile, here's a quick list of what you can expect from the fall 2008 issue: an extensive Photography feature, with work and interviews from several teenage photographers; a back-to-school special feature with dozens of practical ideas and tips on serving God in school; an interview with CCM artist Tayla Hodges; as well as articles on The Rebelution, Ananias and Sapphira, and persecuted Christians. Hope you guys check it out when it's done (next week, God-willing :).
2. Reading Mansfield Park. I was really unsure about whether or not to take this book out of the library -- when I'd looked it up on the web, most of the reviews called it things like 'flat,' 'long-winded,' and 'undimensional.' However, it was the only Jane Austen available at the time, so I decided to take a chance, and I'm so glad I did -- I actually enjoyed it more than Pride and Prejudice. The problem with P&P was that it was a bit too predictable -- predictable enough that the ending was given away on the book's back cover! With Mansfield Park, I had no clue how the story would turn out, even 20 pages from the end. I think part of the reason for that is the 'unidimensionality' that people complained about so much. The characters in the book are indeed so typical, so 'set-in-their ways' and clichéd that they barely ever act out-of-character, so you're left with a lot of suspense over who will give in first. (The characters do end up developing over the course of the story, but in a really natural, slow, and unforced way. I love novels that are allowed to run their course that way). The situations in the story are very real, many of them still relevant to our lives, and I think you'll be surprised at how much food-for-thought you'll find in this novel. Highly recommended!
3. Writing a short story. It's funny -- I started writing about a little girl called Jamie, who was poor (I definitely think Mansfield Park sparked that idea!). She was walking to school during the wintertime and hiding her hat in her pocket because it was a second-hand hat which had belonged to another girl at her school, and Jamie didn't want to reveal her financial situation.
Somehow, the story sort of evolved into a tale about abortion during the mid-20th century.
Yeah, I know. Don't ask me how. I just think it's so cool when a story takes on a life of its own, and turns into something you never expected it to become. I'm not even close to having finished it, but I'll post it when I'm done. It still involves the little girl and a hat of some sort, as well as a teacher (that's where the abortion part comes in), and it might be set during the Great Depression; I'm not quite sure yet. (If it is, I'll have to find a less modern name than Jamie). I'm not trying to make it into some preachy social commentary, though I am pro-life; I'm just telling a story... and I've enjoyed doing that so far. :)
4. Trying not to have too many emotional break-downs over university. This has really challenged me to put my faith in action. I write so much about giving things up to God and trusting him to take control, but I've lost count of all the times I've cried this summer/fall over not knowing what to do with my future. As I researched more and more uni programs, my list of options grew smaller and smaller, until one thing was left for me to apply for. It's not my favourite thing to do. It's not my dream job. It is, however, something I am good at, and it's one of the most-needed skills in Christian ministries -- and that's my greatest aspiration: to have a career in which I can actively glorify God. The career I'm talking about? Writing.
It's taken me a lot of 'wrestling with God' to realize that he wants me to be a writer, even if my personal preference is, by a large margin, graphic design. I've always taken my writing ability for granted, and I think God wants me to finally offer it up to him, instead of letting my gift stagnate while I veer off into other things. Which is hard, because I don't actually enjoy the writing as much as I enjoy those other things (art!). I guess this is a lesson in denying myself and doing what's best for him. (No doubt learning a lot along the way, as well!)
Other than that, I've been sort of drifting in and out of my walk with God... consistency is something I really need to work on. I've been learning many things about him, though, which I plan on sharing on this blog now that I've gotten all the updates on my life out of the way.
Hope everybody has a blessed Saturday! :)
Oksy
PS. In case anyone's wondering (and has actually read up to this point in the post without falling asleep! ;), that pastel drawing I was working on is far away in a box somewhere, so you won't be seeing any progress on that front for a while! Sorry!
Yeah, I know. Don't ask me how. I just think it's so cool when a story takes on a life of its own, and turns into something you never expected it to become. I'm not even close to having finished it, but I'll post it when I'm done. It still involves the little girl and a hat of some sort, as well as a teacher (that's where the abortion part comes in), and it might be set during the Great Depression; I'm not quite sure yet. (If it is, I'll have to find a less modern name than Jamie). I'm not trying to make it into some preachy social commentary, though I am pro-life; I'm just telling a story... and I've enjoyed doing that so far. :)
4. Trying not to have too many emotional break-downs over university. This has really challenged me to put my faith in action. I write so much about giving things up to God and trusting him to take control, but I've lost count of all the times I've cried this summer/fall over not knowing what to do with my future. As I researched more and more uni programs, my list of options grew smaller and smaller, until one thing was left for me to apply for. It's not my favourite thing to do. It's not my dream job. It is, however, something I am good at, and it's one of the most-needed skills in Christian ministries -- and that's my greatest aspiration: to have a career in which I can actively glorify God. The career I'm talking about? Writing.
It's taken me a lot of 'wrestling with God' to realize that he wants me to be a writer, even if my personal preference is, by a large margin, graphic design. I've always taken my writing ability for granted, and I think God wants me to finally offer it up to him, instead of letting my gift stagnate while I veer off into other things. Which is hard, because I don't actually enjoy the writing as much as I enjoy those other things (art!). I guess this is a lesson in denying myself and doing what's best for him. (No doubt learning a lot along the way, as well!)
Other than that, I've been sort of drifting in and out of my walk with God... consistency is something I really need to work on. I've been learning many things about him, though, which I plan on sharing on this blog now that I've gotten all the updates on my life out of the way.
Hope everybody has a blessed Saturday! :)
Oksy
PS. In case anyone's wondering (and has actually read up to this point in the post without falling asleep! ;), that pastel drawing I was working on is far away in a box somewhere, so you won't be seeing any progress on that front for a while! Sorry!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Where I've been living
Hi friends! :)
Wow... it seems like an eternity since I last sat down to write a blog post. Lots of exciting things have happened, and, while I'm still somewhat in the process of catching up with all your blogs, I'll take a few minutes to fill you in with what my own life's been like. In a nutshell, I no longer live in an apartment (yay!) because, for the first time in my life, we've moved to a townhouse.
It didn't take me long to get used to the change, but there are a lot of little things that still catch me off-guard about living here. Like being so near the ground. When I was at the apartment, I always had the habit of looking out the window at what was going on below. There was a little crows' nest in a tree below our window that I loved peeking into... I watched the birds grow from tiny babies to dark-feathered teenagers who constantly squabbled for food. There was a tennis court where people walked their dogs or ran around with their kids, but rarely played tennis; I loved watching that too. Now, everything is so big and close and life-sized that I feel like I'm intruding on peoples' privacy when I peer out the window. It just feels awkward when you're trying to look at a squirrel (I never saw so many squirrels up close and personal before!) and there's someone sitting in their back-yard -- not the best scenario for taking pictures, either. I've barely taken any since coming here, mostly because I've been so busy, but here are two I snapped yesterday:
Just a note about that... from the ninth-floor window of our old apartment, all the treetops were below us. It's an interesting feeling to be surrounded by trees, to look outside and not see the horizon because the view is obstructed by branches and leaves. Because of that, I no longer get the direct, uninterrupted sunlight I had at my old apartment: the light here flickers. I was sitting in the living room at about five o'clock one day when I noticed that. It was a really magical moment... the sunlight produced a kaleidoscope of moving, shifting shadows as it passed through the branches and fluttering leaves outside the window. It created the same sort of atmosphere as a flickering candle does, only in the daytime. Little, minute details like these are what I notice and love most about this new home.
My favourite room here is actually my own. I had it painted in Behr's "Ocean Pearl" -- a sort of sage-green, beige-ish, greyish tone. It's given everything in the room a sort of vintagey feel, and, as time goes on, I plan to add some little Victorian details like roses and letter-boxes to accentuate this theme.
Anyways, this post has been way too long. I'll write a second post, "What I've been doing," in a few days.
Love, Oksy
Wow... it seems like an eternity since I last sat down to write a blog post. Lots of exciting things have happened, and, while I'm still somewhat in the process of catching up with all your blogs, I'll take a few minutes to fill you in with what my own life's been like. In a nutshell, I no longer live in an apartment (yay!) because, for the first time in my life, we've moved to a townhouse.
It didn't take me long to get used to the change, but there are a lot of little things that still catch me off-guard about living here. Like being so near the ground. When I was at the apartment, I always had the habit of looking out the window at what was going on below. There was a little crows' nest in a tree below our window that I loved peeking into... I watched the birds grow from tiny babies to dark-feathered teenagers who constantly squabbled for food. There was a tennis court where people walked their dogs or ran around with their kids, but rarely played tennis; I loved watching that too. Now, everything is so big and close and life-sized that I feel like I'm intruding on peoples' privacy when I peer out the window. It just feels awkward when you're trying to look at a squirrel (I never saw so many squirrels up close and personal before!) and there's someone sitting in their back-yard -- not the best scenario for taking pictures, either. I've barely taken any since coming here, mostly because I've been so busy, but here are two I snapped yesterday:
Just a note about that... from the ninth-floor window of our old apartment, all the treetops were below us. It's an interesting feeling to be surrounded by trees, to look outside and not see the horizon because the view is obstructed by branches and leaves. Because of that, I no longer get the direct, uninterrupted sunlight I had at my old apartment: the light here flickers. I was sitting in the living room at about five o'clock one day when I noticed that. It was a really magical moment... the sunlight produced a kaleidoscope of moving, shifting shadows as it passed through the branches and fluttering leaves outside the window. It created the same sort of atmosphere as a flickering candle does, only in the daytime. Little, minute details like these are what I notice and love most about this new home.
My favourite room here is actually my own. I had it painted in Behr's "Ocean Pearl" -- a sort of sage-green, beige-ish, greyish tone. It's given everything in the room a sort of vintagey feel, and, as time goes on, I plan to add some little Victorian details like roses and letter-boxes to accentuate this theme.
Anyways, this post has been way too long. I'll write a second post, "What I've been doing," in a few days.
Love, Oksy
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Work in Progress (to be continued)
Day 1... I sat down and began sketching a red book lying flat on the table ... the rest of the image just began to emerge.
Day 2... she has the beginnings of a face! Sorry about the colours... this photo was shot under indoor lighting.
And she has an eye. :) A left eye, no less. Which, of course, means that I have to painstakingly cover up the right side of the picture while I do the other half so I don't smudge it. I should have thought this out better!
I'm moving tomorrow... will be off the computer for at least a day or two.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Lesson Learned.
As I was walking into my apartment building the other day, I saw a frail, elderly man walking up to the elevator. I noticed that he had deep blue eyes; they stood out against his pale skin and fine silvery hair, but they seemed a little unfocused -- uncertain. He clutched a newspaper with his plaid sleeves.
In our building, we have one big elevator on the left, and a small one on the right. Between them is the call button. The man entered the lobby from the left, passing the large elevator, and pressed the button. He didn't turn to watch the elevator he had walked by, as if he only expected the other one to open. Instead, he turned his head towards the large panoramic window by the door, and commented, "It sure is windy out there." Behind him, I saw the large elevator open with a "ding!" and, after a few seconds, close. He didn't hear it: he was waiting for the other elevator, and watching the wind.
I felt like going up to him and giving him a big hug. I didn't, but that's what I wanted to do.
As I thought this over later, God spoke to me about my own approach to life. The sweet old man's situation seemed to be a reflection of my own:
I ask God for a blessing, but I've already decided in my mind what form I want that blessing to take. I'm so busy waiting for what I've determined is right for me, that I don't realize it when God opens bigger doors for me. That, or I'm too caught up in the winds and storms of the outside world that I forget to focus on what I can do in the safe arms of God.
I think there's a lot to be learned from the mundane little occurances around us. What have you learned today?
Love, Oksana
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Fragment
I woke up briefly at 5 this morning, probably from being so nervous over the first day of school that I couldn't sleep. Faintly, I could hear birds chirping and cawing, and, while I slipped out of bed, the sound grew in intensity as my consciousness awoke. I turned to my window, and, for a second, the sight arrested me.
The scene was cloacked with a rich, frosted blue. Each form was gauzy in the fog, outlined with black shadows and softly kissed by the fading starlight. A streetlamp cast a rusty, orange glow upon the road, its ruddy light fraying as it crept into the center of the asphalt. The air was filled with the sound of birds.
It lasted just a minute; then, the deep, dark blue began to lift, replaced by that misty, grey hour just before the dawn. The birds continued to call, each voice weaving its way through many other voices, echoing back endlessly from horizon to horizon. Wind tousled the pale and drowsy trees, and fell in wispy cobwebs to the damp road. And the streetlight still shone, like a beacon of silence on a planet determined to shake itself free from the night.
As I watched this unfold, words and thoughts just welled up in me... it was like entering a poem or tiptoeing through a fairlytale. I love this view.
In just a few days, the view is going to change. We're relocating to a different part of the city... or, rather, a different spot in this part of the city. So, to commemorate its beauty, I'll share with you some snapshots I'd taken from my bedroom window at various times over the last two years. Enjoy... :)
Love, Oksana
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Track 6
I'm probably not going to do a track-inspired post for Track 5 of the Matthew Perryman Jones CD... The song is called "All the King's Horses," and the only memory/thought it brings up is a situation involving two other people that I'm not going to post about on the world-wide-web... so here's track 6 (my favourite song from the album!)...
Lord, I feel the weight of a mountain
Pressing down inside my soul
I can see the pillars fallin’
There ain’t nothin’ left to hold
The reigns are broken too
I can’t steer this
There’s nothing I can do
Except to throw my arms out
Take me to
A place where love can mend these wounds
Where mystery can dance with truth
And the broken soul finds refuge...
Lyrics from "Refuge," by Matthew Perryman Jones.
This year was a real eye-opener for me: a season of realization. Realization of my own fallenness. I failed God in just about every way a human can fail him. I also hurt a lot of the people around me, needlessly (not that people ever "need" to be hurt, but they really didn't deserve it at all). When I did manage to be polite and kind towards others, it was only outward; inside I was losing hope fast. The standard I held myself to kept slipping lower and lower with every new sin I added to the list. My grades slipped horribly -- for the first time in my life, I actually toyed with the idea of skipping an exam (which, thanks to God's grace, I did very well on, despite having only a single afternoon to study a 400-page textbook).
I was so relieved to escape into summer. I knew vaguely that I wanted this summer to bring me closer to God, but I didn't expect all the changes he's made in my life in these past two months. Wow -- two months! It seems like a lifetime since July, when I let the Son sweep me off my feet and ask me: "How much do you really love me, Oksana?" No, scratch that. He's always been asking me that, ever since I told him I'd be his forever. What made this summer different was that I was finally broken enough to answer him honestly.
Now it's time to be honest with you, and tell you a secret: I have not read the entire Bible. I've read the NT and most of the Psalms, and started 3 different yearly Bible-reading plans, but got so far behind on each that I never made it far past Numbers. This summer, I felt compelled to begin reading it again; for different reasons than in the past. Before then, I'd read the Bible just to have it done with, to fit in with more mature Christians and appear more knowledgeable. Obviously, that wasn't my conscious thought-process each time I began to read it, but there was a lot of pride involved. This summer, I didn't print off reading plans that I knew I'd never be able to keep. Instead, I took a few blank pages of paper, and really began to dig deep into the word. I spent an entire afternoon making notes and meditating on half a chapter of Genesis.
.
I started to eat the Bible.
Not literally, of course. (When I was 1-3 years old, I did eat books. Apparently, it's not that uncommon -- eating non-food items is a condition called "pica" and happens often with little kids... and I ate all the paper I could get. Back to topic...). By "eating the Bible," I mean satisfying my hunger for God. I didn't just skim, I tried my best to savour and understand every word... give each God-written phrase the attention it deserved. A month later, I'm still in the middle of Genesis, and I don't feel the need to rush it. I've learned tons, some of which I will post on this blog, some of which I'll share in my e-zine (which, by the way, needs some contributions -- see this link for details). I feel refreshed and ready to pursue a better way. It's time to put all my 'lessons learned' to use.
.
School starts tomorrow, and I still have some thinking/praying to do, so, 'till then, as usual...
.
Love, Oksy
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Pastels
Today, I dwelved into the wonderful world of pastels. :)
I just love the way pastels let you 'interact' with your picture. It feels almost as if you're sculpting something, when you blend them beneath your fingers, pulling colours across the paper with your bare hands. Pastels have this very unrefined, 'raw' feel to them. Instead of drawing perfect, smooth, artificial lines, they crumble and smudge and fill the air with colourful, floury dust. It's so therapeutic to create art with this feeling of freedom -- this reckless abandon -- where you don't have to calculate your every move. I worked on two pieces today. The first one is complete... I made it for my mommy:
The second piece is still in progress. It's going to be a portrait of a girl who's leaning against a book with one hand, leaning her head on her other hand, daydreaming. I put a smiley face on the photo at the left to show you where the head's going to go (the sketching is kind of hard to see).
The spine on the green book is done all wrong, but I'm going to fix that when I do the background -- probably all-black. I'm also really bothered by the fact that I didn't give the poor girl an elbow... I'll see if I can add that without messing up too much of what I've done. But first, I'll finish her head, arm, and hand... it's going to be kind of hard to reach into those spots without smudging everything I've already done... Normally, I'd probably give up on this piece -- I don't usually work on art for more than one sitting; but, now that it's up here for the whole world to see, I feel like I have to finish it. I work well under pressure. :) I'm pretty pleased with it overall, despite some of the flaws... it'll keep me busy over the next few days, at any rate!
In other news, God has answered a prayer (thank you, Lord!) of mine that I've been praying for over 3 years. It means some huge changes in my life, so I'll be off the Web for a while... will probably return to regular posts in mid-September. I'll try to fill you in as much as I can in-between then!
Love, Oksana
Sunday, August 24, 2008
The Preenses
I discovered this 'gem' in an old workbook of mine from first grade. Most of the spelling and grammatic errors have been replicated in their entirety.
Onc's upoun a time there lived a beauty who had a green dres and black boots. She was looking like a St. Patrick preenses. But she wasen't marite. She was a grate beauty, oh wat a grate pursine. Rily she was looking like a preenses even if she didn't have a kroune. I want to look like her when I grow uq. One day she walk'd by her kastle. She walk'd and she saw a preense standing by. "I am yore frand," siad the preense. "I never had a frand," siad the beauty. So they marite together. They lived together happy as can be!
I can just hear the applause. ;) Thank you, thank you...
Firstly, a disclaimer: This was written about a year since I came to Canada, and about 5 months since I actively started to learn English... hence the horrible spelling. Yet, as frivolous and Disney-ed as this "story" is, there's more to it than meets the eye...
The reference to St. Patrick puzzled me when I first read it. St. Patrick princess -- wha? Then, I looked at some of my other stories... they were all about Valentines Day, Christmas, Halloween... I realized that I had been absolutely smitten with "Canadian" holidays like St. Patrick's Day, things that were not celebrated in the Ukraine. I don't know if it was so much that I enjoyed them, as the fact that I just wanted to belong. To belong to a world that was new and didn't understand me. I felt that if I reached into these holidays and celebrated them like everyone else did, I'd gain something that would make me the same as everyone else.
I guess that's what people mean when they say things like, "Christmas will bring us all together." At Christmas, everybody is longing to share -- share a feeling, an experience, a season. Christmas is that magical time when even the most simple people decorate their homes, even the most introverted people give strangers smiles, even the most stingy people buy gifts for others. Everybody is willing to step outside their comfort zone and into a place where they can belong... but then, like the snow, that fragile, crystalline Christmas spirit melts away as quickly as it came. How impermanent that magical, happy feeling is, when it's based on material things!
Getting valentines and cutting out green shamrocks did nothing to make me feel like I belonged in first grade, in Canada, or in this world. Only love could do that. That fateful dialogue at the turning point of my story: "I am yore frand" -- "I never had a frand," speaks volumes about my own feelings back in first grade. I must have set the record for the loneliest six-year-old ever to grace the classroom... I cried in class every single day, to the point that I almost got kicked out of school for distrupting other students. I still don't know why I was like that, but I'll venture a guess: I just needed a friend. When I joined a different school for second grade, I found some wonderful people who were willing to share their recesses, snacks, and schoolyard secrets with me, and I barely shed a tear all year.
Perhaps I'm over-analyzing, but even the simplest, smallest, most mundane, most forgotten things in your life say something about you: the state your desk is in, the way you are sitting, your tone of voice when you told your mother you love her, the story you wrote back in first grade... it speaks about who you are. It's so much fun -- fun, and a little sad at the same time -- to look back and find all the little things that I now see in a totally different light. Some of these 'little things' are already in the trash, forgotten... by me, at least. But not by God.
He remembers and treasures up our every thought, want, and need, and gives us according to our needs in his perfect time. It took me several years to understand the real meaning of the holidays I celebrated. It took me several years to find some real friends who would stick with me through thick and thin. It may take me several years more to find my Prince Charming, if that's part of God's plan for me. But I think it's safe to say that, already, I'm living "happy as can be!"
Love, Oksana
The reference to St. Patrick puzzled me when I first read it. St. Patrick princess -- wha? Then, I looked at some of my other stories... they were all about Valentines Day, Christmas, Halloween... I realized that I had been absolutely smitten with "Canadian" holidays like St. Patrick's Day, things that were not celebrated in the Ukraine. I don't know if it was so much that I enjoyed them, as the fact that I just wanted to belong. To belong to a world that was new and didn't understand me. I felt that if I reached into these holidays and celebrated them like everyone else did, I'd gain something that would make me the same as everyone else.
I guess that's what people mean when they say things like, "Christmas will bring us all together." At Christmas, everybody is longing to share -- share a feeling, an experience, a season. Christmas is that magical time when even the most simple people decorate their homes, even the most introverted people give strangers smiles, even the most stingy people buy gifts for others. Everybody is willing to step outside their comfort zone and into a place where they can belong... but then, like the snow, that fragile, crystalline Christmas spirit melts away as quickly as it came. How impermanent that magical, happy feeling is, when it's based on material things!
Getting valentines and cutting out green shamrocks did nothing to make me feel like I belonged in first grade, in Canada, or in this world. Only love could do that. That fateful dialogue at the turning point of my story: "I am yore frand" -- "I never had a frand," speaks volumes about my own feelings back in first grade. I must have set the record for the loneliest six-year-old ever to grace the classroom... I cried in class every single day, to the point that I almost got kicked out of school for distrupting other students. I still don't know why I was like that, but I'll venture a guess: I just needed a friend. When I joined a different school for second grade, I found some wonderful people who were willing to share their recesses, snacks, and schoolyard secrets with me, and I barely shed a tear all year.
Perhaps I'm over-analyzing, but even the simplest, smallest, most mundane, most forgotten things in your life say something about you: the state your desk is in, the way you are sitting, your tone of voice when you told your mother you love her, the story you wrote back in first grade... it speaks about who you are. It's so much fun -- fun, and a little sad at the same time -- to look back and find all the little things that I now see in a totally different light. Some of these 'little things' are already in the trash, forgotten... by me, at least. But not by God.
He remembers and treasures up our every thought, want, and need, and gives us according to our needs in his perfect time. It took me several years to understand the real meaning of the holidays I celebrated. It took me several years to find some real friends who would stick with me through thick and thin. It may take me several years more to find my Prince Charming, if that's part of God's plan for me. But I think it's safe to say that, already, I'm living "happy as can be!"
Love, Oksana
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