"...What a transfiguration it is to love! Notary clerks become gods. And the little shrieks, the pursuits in the grass, the waists encircled by stealth, the jargon that is melody, the adoration that breaks through in the way a syllable is said, those cherries snatched from one pair of lips by another - it all catches fire and turns into celestial glories. Beautiful girls lavish their charms with sweet prodigality. We imagine it will never end. Philosophers, poets, painters behold these ecstasies and don't know what to make of them, they are so dazzling." - Victor Hugo in Les Miserables

There was never a man like Rhett

I can't quite describe what it was like reading through Gone With the Wind. Yes, it was a long book (959 pages!), but so worth the read. I learned so much from the novel, not just about the characters but about the time period. The Civil War completely changed our nation, and this novel, as author Margaret Mitchell says, is not one of romance, but rather a story about survival.Even with that being said, I cannot tell you how entertaining it was to read the dialogue between Scarlett and Rhett. I have never before read about characters such as these...they're so unique and so... devilish. I included a bit of their dialogue here just to give a sample of their interchange,but honestly, you have to read the book and get to know their characters in order to truly appreciate it.

It makes me sad to think about how when this book was published in the late 1930's it was as popular as Twilight is today. Can you imagine everyone you know picking up a book that is almost 1000 pages, written the way it is, and actually reading through the whole thing just for pleasure? These things don't happen anymore, unless the book involves vampires and teen romance. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed reading the Twilight Saga just as much as the next person, but what has happened to our desire to truly read?? I am the only one my age that Iknow of who has actually read Gone With the Wind, and I can honestly say it is my favorite novel! And because of how unpopular it is today, I feel like it is my own little secret. Such brilliance lies within those pages.

"I don't care for such personal conversation," she said coolly and managed a frown. "Besides, I'd just as soon kiss a pig."

"There's no accounting for tastes and I've always heard the Irish were partial to pigs - kept them under their beds, in fact. But, Scarlett, you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. All your beaux have respected you too much, though God knows why, or they have been too afraid of you to really do right by you. The result is that you are unendurably uppity. You should be kissed and by someone who knows how."

The conversation was not going the way she wanted it. It never did when she was with him. Always, it was a duel in which she was worsted.

"And I suppose you think you are the proper person?" she asked with sarcasm, holding her temper in check with difficulty.

"Oh, yes, if I cared to take the trouble," he said carelessly. "They say I kiss very well."

"Oh," she began, indignant at the slight to her charms. "Why, you..." But her eyes fell in sudden confusion. He was smiling, but in the dark depths of his eyes a tiny light flickered for a brief moment, like a small raw flame.

"Of course, you've probably wondered why I never tried to follow up that chaste peck I gave you, the day I brought you that bonnet - "

"I have never - "

"Then you aren't a nice girl, Scarlett, and I'm sorry to hear it. All really nice girls wonder when men don't try to kiss them. They know they shouldn't want them to and they know they must act insulted if they do, but just the same, they wish the men would try... Well, my dear, take heart. Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it. But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient."

--Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

I was skimming through my journal today and came across this entry I made last June. I thought I might as well put it here...I still remember how scared and sick I felt after this dream.

Saturday, 6-12-10

Last night I had a dream that was absolutely terrifying. It was the end of the world, catastrophes were happening, and me and my family needed to leave our home immediately. It deeply depressed me that a life I had built would be left behind to be obliterated in destruction. All the things I had worked so hard for: mementos, memories, photographs, records of what I did and who I was. I knew there was no time but I grabbed a suitcase and hurriedly shoved things in from left and right. Everything I saw was something I wanted, something I had to keep. It was hard to make decisions and soon I couldn't think because I was so dizzy. My family rushed me to the car and I threw my things in the back - I had packed more than the other five combined. We jumped in and raced off, for danger was right at our heels.
It was the end of the world - the end of the world! Nothing would be the same. I started reviewing in my mind the things I had grabbed, and suddenly I realized - I had forgotten my Bible. It was only the single most important thing to own in the end times and I, in my haste to preserve the memory of my own life, had left it behind. I felt absolutely sick realizing my mistake, for it truly proved where my priorities were. How could I have been so selfish - so foolish? How would God forgive me then?


This was just interesting to me because especially recently I have been realizing that my priorities are not where they need to be. I've been letting myself get distracted by just a whirlwind of life and have not been putting God first before everything. This is not ok.

Dangerous Game

Roll the dice

And here we play

At this table -

A dangerous game.

The odds are only

In your favor,

At any moment I could lose.

I passed quietly

Behind your chair,

And then you turned

And saw me there.

You grabbed me quickly

And with a sultry smile

Placed in my fist

The cursed die.

I should have cast them

To the ground,

Should have ignored

Your wink and grin.

Your touch should have never

Caused blood to rush,

Coloring cheeks

With a rosy blush.

But this game I play

As your invitation convinced

Me - I was blind

To your few cheap tricks.

Rolling and tossing,

I continue this bet,

But my name is

Amateur,

And I lose all I get.

Please tell me to quit,

Shoo me away,

I've had enough of casinos,

Enough of cards,

I'm done with suits and cigarettes.

Tell me,

For I haven't believed yet.

~Heidi Joens

"No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and that I might gaze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control; they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking - a precious, yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony; a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless."

Well put, Charlotte Bronte, well put.

Chasm

Chasm by Flyleaf (<-- click the name to hear the song)

When I first heard this song, the only part that really stood out to me was the chorus:

"Please, give me something, I'm so thirsty, I'm so thirsty.

Please, let me warn them, don't you come here, don't bring anyone here."

I had just been going through the whole CD not paying too much attention to all the lyrics of each song, but these words rang clear as I drove around Arlington that day. I played it again trying to figure out what on earth the song was talking about. I actually googled the meaning later to see how other people had interpreted the song. In doing this I found the most likely explanation to be that she was talking about hell. Still, that song was kind of weird to me and I wasn't exactly sure what to think of it.

This all happened a year ago or so, but this past Sunday I was reminded of this song again. My pastor gave a sermon on hell and the reality of it as he was countering beliefs of universalism currently being spread by people such as Rob Bell. One of the scriptures he referenced was Luke 16:19-31, which is the story of the rich man and Lazarus. It is a very interesting passage and I encourage you to read it.

If this can give you any kind of glimpse into the eternal torment of hell, just imagine what kind of fate we are all rescued from (when I say "all", I mean fellow believers, that is not a universal statement). It just boggles my mind the kind of request that the rich man asks of Abraham: "Have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire." (v. 24) Just the tip of his finger?? That's the kind of refreshment the rich man is looking for? How desperate of a state must he be in to see a touch of a wet finger as some sort of relief?

Reading on as the man finds out that a great chasm has been fixed so that no one may cross over between heaven and hell, you'll see that he asks,

27"'Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father's house,

28 for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.'

29 Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.'

30 'No, father Abraham,' he said, 'but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.'

31 He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"

Wow, can you imagine the regret he has for having not believed when he was alive on the Earth and had the chance to be saved? And how desperate he is to see his family saved! But it is true that we have the Word of God here telling us the truth and it is up to us to believe it. Does this stir anything in you as you consider the fates of so many people we are sharing this Earth with today?? We are on a rescue mission. We need to beg of them to consider the gospel.

Do you see how this story matches up with the lyrics? I just find it all very interesting, and that song seems very artistic now.

There was a rhythmic pounding in my dreams,

One strong enough to wake me,

But as my weary eye transpired

The beats echoed in the stillness.

My head tried hard to remember the taste,

To contain the knowledge of you at my door,

But you're there no more.

What are these dreams that recur

Threatening to never grant me peace?

If only to be cast out of my mind forever!

Forgotten and abandoned.

But no, I wouldn't dare forget,

Don't confiscate that memory from me!

Let it rest on my pillow

And greet me each night.

Too fond of you, I am,

To let it from my sight.

So I keep it on my pillow

And just for sanity's sake,

I hardly ever slumber.

~Heidi Joens