Re[posts]

Here are some reposts from my old blog a few years ago. I liked these, and wanted to save 'em.

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Was moved by the words of My Utmost in yesterdays devotion.

“Arise and Eat”
1 Kings 19:5

The angel did not give Elijah a vision, or explain the Scriptures to him, or do anything remarkable; he told Elijah to do the most ordinary thing, viz., to get up and eat. If we were never depressed we should not be alive; it is the nature of a crystal never to be depressed. A human being is capable of depression, otherwise there would be no capacity for exaltation. There are things that are calculated to depress, things that are of the nature of death; and in taking an estimate of yourself, always take into account the capacity for depression.

When the Spirit of God comes He does not give us visions, He tells us to do the most ordinary things conceivable. Depression is apt to turn us away from the ordinary commonplace things of God’s creation, but whenever God comes, the inspiration is to do the most natural simple things—the things we would never have imagined God was in, and as we do them we find He is there. The inspiration which comes to us in this way is an initiative against depression; we have to do the next thing and do it in the inspiration of God. If we do a thing in order to overcome depression, we deepen the depression; but if the Spirit of God makes us feel intuitively that we must do the thing, and we do it, the depression is gone. Immediately we arise and obey, we enter on a higher plane of life. - -

"This hits me at such a perfect place. As I thought earlier this week, still in Armenia, as I wrote in my journal, that coming home I really felt like I needed to get some control back, some increase in self-will. ‘Arise and eat.’ It really makes me put into perspective how to do that. God will give me the power, the mindset as I obey Him, as I take the initiative. As I reach out my hand to be healed, it will be healed, but I have to take the initiative to hold it out. This is a big question for my own life now. What am I holding out? What initiative am I taking to reclaim my life/time/focus/body? It makes me think about sitting in the kitchen here in the morning, drinking tea or water, eating something, and looking out the window into the sun and the sky, perhaps listening to the Lori Chaffer song, as it goes, “morning can be a time or mourning, or potential hope as the sunlight, warms my window where I lay...” And that is the ultimate question, is the new day a burden or is it a gift from God? Is it to be treated with anticipation and excitement or fear and trembling? Either it is life-giving or it is life-taking. I really want it to be life-giving!"

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Some words from the book, Dangerous Wonder, by Mike Yaconelli ...about having childlike faith, and the abandon of following your heart fully, and not just following the rules that have been so nicely made for us...

Last year, my young son played T-ball...Needless to say, I was delighted when Dylan wanted to play...Now on the other team there was a girl I will call Tracy. Tracy came each week. I know, since my son’s team always played her team. She was not very good. She had coke-bottle glasses and hearing aids on each ear. She ran in a loping, carefree way, with one leg pulling after the other, one arm wind-milling wildly in the air.
Everyone in the bleachers cheered for her, regardless of what team their progeny played for. In all the games I saw, she never hit the ball, not even close. It sat there on the tee waiting to be hit and it never was. Sometimes, after ten of eleven swings, Tracy hit the tee (in T-Ball, the ball sits on a plastic tee, waiting for the batter to hit the ball, which happens once every three batters). The ball would fall off the tee and sit on the ground six inches in front of home plate. “Run! Run!” yelled Tracy’s coach, and Tracy would lope off to first, clutching the bat in both arms, smiling. Someone usually woke up and ran her down with the ball before she reached first.
Everyone applauded.
The last game of the season, Tracy came up, and through some fluke, or simply in a nod towards the law of averages, she creamed the ball. She smoked it right up the middle, through the legs of 17 players. Kids dodged as it went by or looked absentmindedly at it as it rolled unstopped, seemingly gaining speed, hopping over second base, heading into center field. And once it reached there, there was no one to stop it. Have I told you that there are no outfielders in T-ball? There are for three minutes in the beginning of every inning, but then they move into the infield to be closer to the action, or, at least their friends.
Tracy hit the ball and stood at home, delighted. “Run!” yelled her coach. “Run!” All the parents, all of us, we stood and screamed, “Run, Tracy, run, run!” Tracy turned and smiled at us, and then, happy to please, galumphed off to first. The first base coach waved his arms ‘round and ‘round when Tracy stopped at first. “Keep going, Tracy, keep going! Go!” Happy to please, she headed to second. By the time she was halfway to second, seven members of the opposition had reached the ball and were passing it among themselves. It’s a rule in T-ball – everyone on the defending team has to touch every ball.
The ball began to make its long and circuitous route toward home plate, passing from one side of the field to the other. Tracy headed to third. Adults fell out of the bleachers. “Go, Tracy, go!” Tracy reached third and stopped, but the parents were very close to her now and she got the message. Her coach stood at home plate calling her as the ball passed over the first baseman’s head and landed in the fielding team’s empty dugout. “Come on, Tracy! Come on, baby! Get a home run!”
Tracy started for home, and then it happened. During a pandemonium, no one had noticed the twelve-year-old geriatric mutt that had lazily settled itself down in front of the bleachers five feet from the third-base line. As Tracy rounded third, the dog, awakened by the screaming, sat up and wagged its tail at Tracy as she headed down the line. The tongue hung out, mouth pulled back in an unmistakable canine smile, and Tracy stopped, right there. Halfway home, thirty feet from a legitimate home run.
She looked at the dog. Her coach called, “Come on, Tracy! Come on home!” He went to his knees behind the plate, pleading. The crowd cheered, “Go, Tracy, go! Go, Tracy, go!” She looked at all the adults, at her own parents shrieking and catching it all on video. She looked at the dog. The dog wagged its tail. She looked at her coach. She looked at home. She looked at the dog. Everything went to slow motion. She went for the dog! It was a moment of complete, stunned silence. And then, perhaps, not as loud, but deeper, longer, more heartfelt, we all applauded as Tracy fell to her knees to hug the dog.

Two roads diverged on a third-base line. Tracy went for the dog.

over the cliff

over the cliff
Originally uploaded by weddlen.

Check out our pix from our honeymoon in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. Just click on this picture, and then find "Honeymoon set." It was perfect!!!!!! I love being married! We can't wait to go back... it was so hard coming home!

Enjoy!

Nick & Keri Weddle

the good 'ole days!

the good 'ole days!
Originally uploaded by weddlen.

just found this among some old fotos. It... makes me...a little... sad... I miss all those locks of golden beauty!

Ever been to a Brothel?

Born Into Brothels
Originally uploaded by weddlen.

a woman, a street, a people, a camera, and an opportunity. Oh yeah, and some kids. Born Into Brothels is an incredible movie/documentary about a woman who went into the red light district in Calcutta, India, to photograph the lives of women, but instead found a group of kids.

Best thing I've seen in a long time! A must see. (yeah, they have it at Blockbuster)

hope found

Read

thoughts on Thanksgiving

thoughts on Thanksgiving
Originally uploaded by weddlen.

"Our Way of Giving" by Chief Maquinna

"Once when I was in Victoria, I saw a very large house. They told me it was a bank, and that the white men place their money there to be taken care of, and that by and by they got it back, with interest. We are Indians, and we have no such bank; but when we have plenty of money or blankets, we give them away to other chiefs and people, and by and by they return them, and our hearts feel good. Our way of giving is our bank."

...to read more click here

( I really suggest that you do... it's really good! )

nW

a life of Hide & Seek

a life of Hide & Seek
Originally uploaded by weddlen.

As I sat in my car today, waiting for my friend, I watched as two young boys played in the fall leaves of orange and yellow, the game of Hide & Seek. I felt sorry for the younger brother, who was only about 4 yrs.old, as he croutched down behind a large rock, bearing most of back to the view of his searching older brother. He didn't have a chance. I remembered back to playing it when I was young(er) and how we played different variations of the game: Poison Ivy (where the 'tagger' recruits more taggers each time he/she gets someone), Sardines (where one person hides and everyone else searches until they find him, but then attempt to hide with that person, until all are hiding, minus the last, and unfortunate losing player), et. al.... It also seems that this game is almost a human staple, in almost every culture and people group around the world. Why is that? Why does it feel like 'Hiding' and 'Seeking' is almost formed into our very being, regardless of language or ethnicity? I believe that this somehow ties into the very fabric of our lives given by God. This theme of Seeking and Finding is woven throughout the Bible, and the story of God and his people. And heck, even with older, non-youth-type-people, the games often involved with dating seem to be almost 'hide-n-seek' ish. Verses in the Bible like "Come near to God, and He will come near to You..." and "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled," seem to float around in this language. And also the verse "But if from there you seek the LORD your God, you will find him if you look for him with all your heart and with all your soul." It seems as if the game we play as kids and even as adults, stems from an even deeper aspect of who we are. Seeking to find questions to deep longings within us... Why was I not important enough for my parents to love me? or Why did I receive such abuse growing up? or still, Do I have what it takes to be someone/to be successful? or Why would God love me when there seems to be such ugly things about me/my life? I remember how I dreaded being the 'seeker' or 'tager' when we played. I guess it was the fear of not finding what (or who) I was looking for. And conversely, how good it felt to be the hider, knowing, in an almost anxious way, that someone could pop out any moment and scare you and get you. Exciting, and yet scary at the same time. I think that God works the same way in our lives too. Just like Adam in the garden as he hid, God sought after him, to speak to him, to have fellowship with him. How often do we hide from God now in our lives, either from guilt or just plain 'ole shame. I find it interesting how both of these realities play out in my life, regardless of who I am, in whatever moments.

Selah. (...take time to think on these things...)

nW