Arthur

You shouldn't be too lost, as Arthur's story is all backstory still. He is an Irish prince, in a vague middle-ages- time, with a younger sister (Gwen) and brother (Galahad), his father still alive, his mother killed in battle. Their family has never fully recovered from losing her years ago, especially his bitter sister.

~Arthur~

I found something today, something very dear to me, that I thought I had lost perhaps forever. I found hope.
I don't quite know when I lost it, either; I only know when I realized it was gone. I was just sitting in the armory one afternoon last week when Gwen came in. She looked at me as I sat tracing the swirling designs on the blade of my sword, walked over too me, and said, "Arthur, what's wrong?"
"Hmm?" I stopped my fingers' idling and looked up at her. Her beautiful eyes, always so sober, seemed to see straight through me that afternoon. It is usually the other way around.
"Your eyes are so sad, Artos. They have been every time I've seen you recently."
I bristled indignantly, then was caught off guard by my own reaction. When had I become the angry one in my family? When had the steady calm of peace I had always felt been replaced with a sense of hopelessness? With a sigh, I stood and held my arms out for my little sister. She fled to me and I held her close, willing the turmoil away. "Oh, Gwen. This castle, this home, has not been the same since mother died, and I know it is not just her absence that has made it so... but I have tried for so long to restore joy that I have lost it myself."
"Artos." Gwen's eyes searched my face earnestly. "You have not failed. Look at Galahad; he benefits so from your guidance of him. And father would be even more burdened if you did not do so much for him. And I do not know what I would do without you."
Footsteps down the hall told us that someone was coming; I offered my little sister my arm. "Come, Gwen. Let's go for a ride; it's a nice day for it."
We left the armory and took a ride up into the low foothills skirting the mountains that I love to draw so much. Cantering the long distance down the tree-lined trails calmed me; we rode in thoughtful silence much of the way, the same memories of ten sad years winding through our meditations. But the quiet ride did us both good. Llyd nickered and sighed into my face as I groomed him, attempting to tell me everything would be alright in the end.
I gathered my sketchbook and pencils and found my usual spot, the hill with the most glorious view of the wild countryside for miles around. I couldn't draw the mountains that day, though. I found that I was still angry, still confused. I wasn't able to capture a single image on paper all this week; the turmoil in my soul was too great, and all I could do was think and pray. I kept asking why God has allowed the past ten years to be such hard ones for all our family, why our mother had to die, why my father is old before his time and my sister became a grave and vengeful woman at such a young age.
My only answer those days was the imposing majesty of the mountains. What can that tell me? I kept wondering, frustrated still. Suddenly, this morning, it made sense.
My favorite mountain peak to draw stands out among the rest because its long lines are exquisitely graceful and blanketed in sparkling snow most of the year, making it by far the most beautiful of all the peaks around. As I studied it for the hundredth time, I realized that it hadn't always been that way. There are taller peaks, more imposing; but their jagged crags are not as beautiful as the one I was looking at. It had been like many others before, but years of wind and storms have weathered its rough edges smooth and polished the perfect dips and valleys that catch so much sparkling snow. I imagined, as I looked at it with new eyes, that had that mountain been able to speak, it might have wondered why it of all the peaks had to weather the worst storms; but had it not, it would not be nearly so beautiful.
And as soon as I realized this, a verse came to me that I have not heard in a long time: "I lift my eyes up to the mountains, from whence cometh my help... my help cometh from the Lord, the maker of Heaven and earth." In this, I found my hope.

Arthur

A Little Writing

One of my best friends and I started writing an ongoing story together in 8th grade; convinced that we'd be too old for such silly stuff in college, we planned to have all the ends tied up by our senior year of high school. To our surprise we found that there was more to writing stories than happy endings; new appreciation for the depth and complexity of human character have kept us writing these seven years.
My friend is frustrated with life in general right now, and not sure what she's doing about school or moving out or anything like that right now; we don't write often anymore, but one particular newish character is a favorite of mine and seems to be very wise. :) So I sat down the other day and wrote from him, wanting to give her hope that life will not continue to be hard and frustrating forever. I'm posting that now (as a separate post, since it's pretty long; it isn't much, but perhaps it will remind you Who our hope comes from. :-)

Been So Busy...

Isn't Mason GORGEOUS? Heehee, sorry, I can't help it. He's just as beautiful to ride as he is to look at. Quite a workout, because he's so big and moves with such big strides; he needs to be picked up and encouraged to carry himself like the warmblood he is. But when he does, he just floats.

Besides riding, which I confess I haven't done as much as I could wish, I've been busy helping plan for this year at school. I can't believe I leave on Friday; it's been a long and wonderful summer of spending time with my family, and planning for this year! There are so many new ministries we're beginning at school, and some that I am just joining. Here is what I'll be doing:

Bible Studies- I'm the coordinator for the small groups in my dorm, which mostly means that I know and pray for the needs of the four small groups that we have so far. I'm there to keep them from burning out while they pour into their groups and keep themselves learning while they teach. MB and Natalie will also be leading a group, which I'm sort of co-leading with them- I know they will do a wonderful job, but they think they need my help, so I'm their cheerleader :)

The Furnace- An discipleship group that I love. There are just ten or so of us; we meet on weekends for accountability, Wednesday nights for Bible Study at Pastor Steve's house, Thursdays once a month for HCF, and Friday mornings for prayer before class.

Pray/Fast- A new ministry that I am so excited about! We (anyone on campus who wants to) will be fasting one day a week, spending that day praying and worshipping and reading the Word. We'll meet together to do this instead of going to meals, and of course be praying on our own throughout the day. Money from the meals not bought will go to a fund for community work, so we can be a self-funded group and help people in Hillsdale who need things like food, money for certain needs, etc. I'm really excited about starting this and I know it will be challenging. :)

Missions Trip to Amsterdam!! This one deserves a special post, especially since I still have homework to do.... :P I'll tell you all about it soon. :-)

Home :)

Mmm, my beautiful Washington. :-) I just love this view- who gets to say this is the view from their driveway? :-)