The Excitement of Beowulf Condensed.

Well, I’m weary to my very bones—particularly my hip bones, knee bones, and shin bones. I ran too much this morning and now I am reaping the consequences. And get this: On the one day that I can—and should eat—more than usual, I have no appetite! That’s a first. Anyways, I hope everyone out there is doing well. I have to admit, that I’ve had better weeks. My sweet, sweet dog has cancer and it’s just kind of hanging over my head. It’s weird when someone has a time limit on the rest of their life.
We’re reading Beowulf in my World Lit class right now. This is my second time reading it, and I just love it. So, I decided (with some prodding from my English teacher, who threatened me with an F should I fail to attempt such an assignment) that I would write a one-page synopsis of the battle between Beowulf and Grendel using the Anglo-Saxon style (alliteration, kenning, litotes, metaphors, and other such joyous grammatical things). Since I wrote this as an Anglo-Saxon would, I’ve decided to take an Anglo-Saxon name and call myself by it.


“The Battle”
By Haylee Synnove Cantrella*

The darkness-creeper left wet, frothy footmarks as he traveled
from the writhing, marshy mere to the feast hall of Hrothgar.
Sounder he may have stayed had he swallowed his blood-lust that night.
The great door gave way to the might of Grendel;
it splintered under his strength as he tore it from its sockets—
an ominous omen this. Wyrd would be unkind to the death-dealer tonight.
Treading across the hall, Grendel came upon the first sleeping warrior
and him he devoured more brutally and bloodily than any brood-lion.
Reaching for the second, the soul-slayer found himself grasped,
clasped by a fierce hand—the tongs of death—for Beowulf had stirred,
and release his formidable clutch the great Geat could not
until his oath was accomplished and Grendel’s blood-wite fulfilled.
The oath of Beowulf was thus: to scorn sword and shield
and give bare-armed, empty-handed Grendel fair game,
leaving the outcome of the battle in the hands of the Just God.
Now the demon had but one thought remaining—
it surged through his mind, it settled in the pit of his stomach,
up from which rose a great billowing bile and an unearthly groan—
to escape the stern sentence of the Lord Almighty,
which was to be dealt by the deathly hands of bold Beowulf.
Gore-ridden fingers were crushed in the hard-wearing handclasp.
A skirmish commenced. Neither angels in heaven
nor demons in hell could shut out the din of the brawl—
likewise, from outside the hall, mighty Danes heard the rumpus
and a dark, cold fear filled up their marrow. The woken warriors
unsheathed their swords, but open the sordid skin
and trickle the vile life-blood of the blood-letter they could not;
the enchantments of Grendel warded off weapons of war.
It was the heart-desire of Beowulf that the hell-demon—
bloated with fair flesh of warriors and glutted with guilt of slaughter—
should not leave Heorot alive. Hatred and horror
encompassed the putrid soul of the fen-fiend and flight was his wish.
In this war of wills one option was offered to Grendel.
The sound of sinews snapping and of bones breaking was a noise
most difficult to discern under the torturous shriek of the broken beast. His right wrist lay even now in the palm of the princely Geat,
but his left accompanied his death-ready soul through the door of Heorot.
Thus with his gruesome scepter of shoulder, arm and hand,
Beowulf established himself as a master among men.

*Haylee: from the hay medow; Synnove: gift of the sun; Cantrella: starlight princess

I hope some of you have read Beowulf. Alright, well, I’ve got to go. Here’s my parting shot:
Jesus said in Luke 12:32 “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom.”

I just like it. Hello to the rest of the “little flock”. I hope you have a splendid day!

Infinitesimally: This Is A Good Word

Let me begin by saying,
I itch.
Fiercely. Fully. Ubiquitously. It’s really kind of stupid and I’m getting annoyed. I don’t know why I itch, but I do, so there you go.

Now, on the brighter and more significant side, God showed me something today through the enthralling and exhaustive (do you know how heavy a hard cover 1,290 page book is?) work Systematic Theology by Wayne Grudem which I am reading for school this year. How big is God? We’ll never know, especially while we’re still on the earth because while we’re here the nature of God can only be explained to us through things we know or “human terms”. (The term that explains all this is anthropomorphic for all you scholastic type.) I thought that was incredibly neat. Here I am thinking that there are no more “terms” except human ones. It’s kind of exciting to think that there are things we can’t even begin to understand because our minds can’t handle it. “For My thoughts are higher than your thoughts as the heavens are higher than the earth.” Isaiah 55:9.

This makes me feel very stupid. Sometimes when I’m having a conversation with someone that person will comment on something they know absolutely nothing about (and conversely—sorry for these SAT words today—something that I do know something about.) and when this happens I, being an imperfect human, will stare at them with the deepest loathing because I find them so intolerably idiotic. Goodness, how many chances have I given God to stare at me with disgust? (Like, every moment of every day.) And yet, I don’t think He does because He’s bigger than that and “His ways are not our ways.” (Again, I’ve forgotten where this verse lives…but it’s in there, I promise you that.). I’m just little, fumbling, dull-witted Hayley and God loves me. Happy day.

I still itch. But there have been worse things...sigh.
Well. TTFN.

Jimmy. Sniff sniff.

Well, hello.
How is everyone? I’m rather tired. I want to go to the library. Let me take a moment to thank everyone who has ever responded to one of my blogs. It really makes me happy to sit down and see that somebody “commented” on my blog. Am I supposed to comment back? This I don’t know.

Once there was a tiny caterpillar. He was about a quarter of an inch long with a black head and a green body. His feet were so darn teensy you could barely see them. They were about as thick as a hair. Never before had Hayley seen such magnificence in an insect. She liked it when he lifted his little head and looked around. His name was Jimmy. This is his story.

In a manner of speaking, Jimmy was born. The wind blew Jimmy from his perch on the butterfly bush and he floated through the screen. Jimmy landed on Hayley’s list of ‘things to do’ and when Hayley leaned over to see how little she had gotten done, her gaze locked on the diminutive creature. Hayley fell in love, but knew that Jimmy was a wild animal and that wild animals need to be free. But Jimmy didn’t seem to understand, because when Hayley carried him outside on her ‘to do’ list, he wouldn’t let go of the paper. This predicament tempted Hayley. If the little creature didn’t want to be set free, couldn’t she keep it without moral controversy? But lest it be said that Hayley didn’t know where wild animals belong, and risk being reproached by animal activists everywhere, she shook the book and Jimmy lost his grip. Then she couldn’t find Jimmy anywhere. She may have stepped on Jimmy. It was all very sad.

Hmm… this story will win me fame and fortune someday. Or I’ll just put in my autobiography. Well, now that I’ve wasted more time on Jimmy (I doubt there was ever a caterpillar that was so documented) I think I’ll go to the library.

I dare you all to wake up early tomorrow (earlier than usual) or sometime this week and take a walk and while you walk memorize Bible verses. Early morning is the best part of the day. I hope time in heaven is stuck on early morning. Anyways… Farewell.

Dum Dum De Dum Da De Dum

Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!
I have nothing to follow this exclamation, I just felt like exclaiming. So, this morning I ran 16 miles (stupid, I know) and now I know how an elderly woman must feel. Not only that, but I can barely form sentences in my head and getting them coherently out of my mouth is a fruitless endeavor. I told my poor piano student today: “Okay so this means that you do that when it’s before this, yeah, and that’s all the explanation you’re going to get, so I hope you get it.” Seriously, that’s as far as my brain is going today. I saw a snail this morning! And fog. And when I ran through the bushes they got me sopping wet. It was a very exciting day.
Alright, now I have something more serious to discuss with you all. Hebrews 10:26-31 says,

“If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God. Anyone who rejected the law of Moses died without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses, How much more severely do you think a man deserves to be punished who has trampled the Son of God under foot, who has treated as an unholy this the blood of the covenant that sanctified him, and who has insulted the Spirit of grace? For we know him who said, ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ and again, ‘The Lord will judge his people.’ It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”

Let me tell you something truthfully.
I wish these verses weren’t in the Bible.
Goodness, gracious, they’re just a wee bit forceful, aren’t they? And convicting. Very very convicting. I think these might be rated as a few of the hardest verses in the entire Bible. There’s not much more to be said about them except that we cannot and should not keep on sinning. We have no right to, and we’re not going to get off the hook as easily as we’ve all been expecting. God is Love (and He's always faithful to forgive us of our sins--70 times 7--and He'll never stop loving us--just thought I needed to insert this), but He’s no pushover. So I guess I need to pray that I can obey this verse. And pray that I won’t be anxious about not being able to obey this verse (I was sweating bullets when I read it this morning). “Don’t be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present you requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard you hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7

Geeses and Plans

Please excuse me for my inexcusably long absence. I don’t know what I’ve been doing lately, but it definitely hasn’t been blogging. Hopefully I haven’t lost the little number of readers I had (Mom! Come back! I’m blogging again.). School has started (fun fun). That’s about all on that front.
This morning I was lying out on the hammock and the sun hadn’t quite got to where I was sitting yet, when a hummingbird landed on the branch right above my head. It was love at first sight. I was slightly smitten with the little thing. Now, the pack (herd, school, gaggle—aha!) of geese that flew over the tennis court (the tennis court I was trapped within, just to clarify) were not cute. They nearly splattered me with “stuff”. Me and goose poop, we go way back. Long ago, when I used to play soccer and my dad was coach, he would get the whole team to kneel down in a circle around him on the grass. Then, because we were a rec team and didn’t have a bunch of fancy white boards and the like, he would pick sixteen pieces of goose droppings (I was the tall, skinny one), and run them around the little square field and have them do plays and drills that he wanted us to learn. I crumbled into bits more than once waiting for Rosie to cross pass me the ball.
Anyways, (I love reminiscing) I had a little discussion with my uncle, my dad, my sister, my grandma, (okay, it was kind of a big discussion), my step-grandpa, and my mom last night about God’s will. Thankfully, there were no fireworks. My uncle was saying that although God has a plan for each of our lives we don’t need to wander the earth fretting that we’ll “mess up” and somehow do something that was not part of God’s plan for us—at least, I think this is what he was saying. My uncle can be slightly more confusing than my dad at times—. My uncle didn’t think it was possible to do this (step out of God’s will), and didn’t think it was something we needed to worry about (I told him I wasn’t worrying about it, and he said he knew, but that someday I might worry about it and he wanted me to remember what he was telling me so that I would never worry about it. My uncle is an air force chaplain; sometimes he can’t help giving sermons—which is fine, because I’m all for them.) I agreed with my uncle.
Then my grandma said something that made me sad. She said that although God might have a plan for me or someone else, she didn’t think He had a plan for her, because she had never done anything special and didn’t think she would. Listen carefully, Grandy.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Job 29:11 (read the rest of the verse if you don’t know it. It’s amazing.)

“The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me.” (Darn it, I’ve forgotten where this one comes from.)

“O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all of my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O lord. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain…Your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Part of) Psalm 139

It just makes me so excited to understand how utterly and completely God is involved in my life. He knows more about me than I do and none of the pages in His little book of “Hayley’s Life” are blank. He’s got notes and details on each one of them, just like He’s got plans on each page of my grandma’s.

Neat stuff.

My Kid Sister and Disgustingness

I woke up at 3:55 this morning and stayed up (our plane departed at 5:30, crazy huh?), so please forgive me if my sentences are incoherent or if I nod off… Well, I’m finally back from our vacation (a.k.a. road trip) through Washington and Oregon. Now I have the weekend to pull my life back together until school starts on Monday—yikes! Today I feel like sharing with you all a little bit about my kid sister Hannah. Let us make a chart.

Hannah

Hair: Brown and curly (which turns golden in the sun.)
Skin: Brown (why on earth does she get the ‘bronzed Amazon queen’ look when I am as white as a goose—a white goose, obviously—?)
Eyes: Brown (wouldn’t that be something if she had gotten hazel or blue eyes? But Hannah got the nice skin and hair, I got the green eyes. Anyways…)
Species: Packrat (I mean that in the best possible sense, Hannah… and you really have been doing better lately.)
Interests: No running, no writing, no reading, no drawing. In other words, nothing I’m interested in. Actually, Hannah likes to cook and would enjoy being in the Coast Guard.
Skills: She’s, like, a handyman or something. She can build anything and is a computer whiz. I can barely figure out how to turn on a computer… Déjàvu.
Good for: Making me laugh (hysterically, uncontrollably, anaerobically, at times—yes I know anaerobically is not a word.) Encouraging me to step out a bit. A good old argument. Hugs. Nice, long, heartfelt hugs.

Alright, now that you know a little more about Hannah than you did before, let me give you just a quick peek into her life. (I hope she won’t kill me for telling you all this…)

This occurred in a little village in Austria. Hannah was attempting to ride her bicycle through the center of town. She was having difficulty maneuvering around the light posts. I was riding in front of her, so this is what I heard.

Some grunting and other noises of exertion.
“Oh, almost hit that one.”
A moment of concentration.
“Whoops.”
Another minute of silence.
The distinct sound of metal on metal. Then,
“I hit that one.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious.


Alright, well, I guess I’m just feeling all mushy from our family trip and everything (which is weird, I’ve been sharing hotel rooms with these people for the past eight days), so here is a verse to go along with my thoughts,

“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.” Ecclesiastes 4:12
Or, in the New Living translation:
“A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer.”
I’ve been trying to go at my troubles and temptations pretty much alone lately. I know God is always there to help me through (and He’s the one who will truly help me succeed), but the periods of spiritual dryness and testing are the times we should draw our friends closer, not push them away. A good friend will not despise you even when you are ashamed of yourself. I’m always amazed at this. When I tell someone I love one of my darkest deepest sins I fully expect them to shrink back, disgusted at the sight of squirming, worm-like me. However, I have found that this is not the case. Instead they love me, pity me, pray for me (my mom is a champion at this sort of thing—thanks Mom.). How amazing is it then, that the God of the universe, who feels more and sees deeper than any friend, does the same thing. We come to Him covered in refuse, completely revolting, and somehow He still loves us! Even after we come to Him again, and again, and again, and again, and again with the same sin, He forgives us and loves us.

This is another topic I’ve been learning about recently. I found this verse again recently, in the exact moment that I needed to hear it more than anything else. I love how that works.

“He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him.” Psalm 103:10-11.

Okay, it’s about time for dinner, so I’ll sign off now! Hope you’re all having a fantabulous Friday.

Fleas and Japanese Game Shows

Hello Folks!

Well, these last few days have been interesting to say the least. I've been touring the Pacific Northwest from the slightly squashed back seat (except for those moments of car sickness when my dearest darling Dad gave up the passenger seat to humor his ailing daughter) of a firetruck-red PT Cruiser. So far I've stayed in a mountain lodge resort on Mount Hood, the Embassy Suites in the Historic Waterfront District of Portland, and Crest Trail Lodge in Packwood, Washington. I cannot for the life of me remember the name Packwood. I must have asked my Mom "Where are we, darn it?" eight times tonight. "Parkland, Sackwood?" Today we pulled off the highway at the foot of Mount St. Helens and took a little walk down the "wildlife-watching" trail. It was beautiful, we were enchanted. Then, suddenly, without warning, we were attacked by vicious plants. I broke out in hives. The only wildlife we encountered other than a dead mouse were insects and arachnids. I broke out in hives (did I mention that?).
My skin is still tingling.
My dad is now 'scraping the dried on spiderwebs off [his] face'.
I think I have a tick in my scalp.
Now we are in Parkwood--darn it, Packwood.
Oh dear. Never in all my days could I have imagined myself in this place. Can you spell 'Hick town'? 'Podunkville'? Sure it's interesting to visit, but my heart aches for the poor people who live here. It makes me appreciate Albuquerque a bit more. Alright, well, Ninja Warrior is calling my name (see what a devastating affect Packwood is having on my poor family?) I hope none of you know the Japanese game show I'm referring to. Goodnight for now.