Tag: a personal note

All Out for Narnia

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

There’s a bus that will take you to Narnia in time to help Peter and Edmund stand against the White Witch. It’d be nice if there were another bus that could bring them here to help us against our own wicked witches: but then, as Aslan might say, “You have looked, my child, but you have not seen. Look again!”

Or perhaps the Prophet Elisha put it even better, when he and his servants were surrounded by the chariots of the king of Syria: “Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.” But the servant couldn’t see what Elisha saw, so Elisha asked God to open the young man’s eyes: and he saw; and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire about Elisha. (2 Kings 6:14-17)

You board the bus to Narnia, needing no money for the fare, just by opening the book, or starting the tape, or even looking into your mind instead of looking out: because that’s where the bus stop is. Usually the bus is already there, waiting for you.

Now there’s not much point in going to Narnia except to see the Lion, Aslan. In our world He has another name: Jesus Christ the Son of God, Our Lord and Savior. Sometimes here in this complicated, fallen world, our vision grows dim and we don’t see Him. For some of us, a visit to Narnia and a glimpse of Aslan is all it takes to get our eyes focused back on Jesus.

They that be with us are more than they that be with them.

God said it, so it’s true. The chariots of the wicked will exist for not a moment longer than God allows them to exist. They glory in their imagined power, as the White Witch gloried in hers.

All aboard!

How to Sing to Your Cats

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

Don’t think it’s all hurly-burly here, all the time.

One of the things I like to do, to relax, is to sing to my cats, Robbie and Peep. You don’t have to be Pavarotti: these cats don’t care.

From the time she was a kitten, Peep favored that old Frankie Valli standby, “Walk like a Peep.” She also likes the theme from the old Patrick McGoohan TV show, “Secret Agent Peep.”

Robbie goes more for the classics: “Furry tales can come true, it can happen to you…” Or, “We were sailing along on Moonlight Bay; you can here the fishes singin’, they seem to say…”

And from Jaws, another cat favorite. You can plug in your own cat’s name and use this song free of charge.

Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish peepsters,

Farewell and adieu to you Peep-cats of Spain.

For we’ve received orders for to sail back to Peep-town,

And so nevermore shall we peep you again.

Try it with your cat sometime. Or your dog, or your iguana. And feel the love.

Our Last and Best Defense

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

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With our country being driven down by the very people who swear oaths to uphold it, how are we, as Christians, to defend it?

But we do have weapons that they can never take away from us. St. Paul told us what those weapons are.

Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.For we wrestle not with flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.

And here is our armory.

Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; and your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God: praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints… (Ephesians 6: 10-18)

Has anyone got a better idea?

‘Be Thou My Vision’ (a Hymn That I Love)

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=video%2c+be+thou+my+vision&FORM=VIRE5#view=detail&mid=6560439A5788EAFBF7E06560439A5788EAFBF7E0

While I try to decide what to write about today, let this ancient Irish hymn (it goes back over a thousand years) hold my place. It’s one of my favorite hymns, and I hope the video works. I won’t know until I’ve posted it.

Sometimes it’s best just to “be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

We need His protection in this evil age.

Hooray for My Books

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

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Spring is coming; and when it arrives, I want to be ready to start writing my next book, which would be Book #9 in my Bell Mountain series.

One of my ways of getting ready is to immerse myself in the world of Obann by reading, in order, the seven books already in print. Actually, this is very necessary: I find it very easy to forget certain details, and to unwittingly contradict things I said in earlier books. Between books 3 and 4, for instance, I managed to lose 18 Temple staff without a word of explanation. Eighteen of ’em–pffft! It was a job, putting it right, and I don’t want anything like that to happen again. And so I revisit the earlier books and refresh my memory.

Last night I finished reading the first book, Bell Mountain.

How do I say this without sounding like a ninny? I read my own book and said, “Wow!” I know it sounds asinine. But there are subtleties in it that I’m sure I never put there on purpose, not to mention a story whose like I was never able to write before. I mean, even my mother wound up liking this book, and she was just about impossible to impress.

Well, I’m old enough to look at this book and know right well it didn’t come from me: I only wrote down the story that God gave me. Even that, I know, sounds kind of pretentious and self-important; but it’s not meant to be. I just know that the day the Lord stops giving me the story, it dries up: there is no well of inspiration in me for it to draw upon.

Look, folks, the real purpose of this blog is to try to generate interest in my books, in hope of selling some. They’re all good, and the kindle versions are dirt cheap. The paperbacks feature gorgeous covers by Kirk DouPonce, and one of them costs generally less than a ticket to some lousy movie, even if you don’t buy popcorn.

If this blog has entertained you, or gotten you thinking, please give my books a try. You’ll probably like them. And don’t be put off by my saying so. Believe me, very often it’s not much fun for the author to read his own work. In fact, it can be kind of painful, or even embarrassing.

And if you’ve already read them: well, thank you very much, and ;please pardon this long commercial. I promise not to do another one anytime soon.

How I Got Lost in the Woods

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

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Once upon a time, my friend and I got lost in the woods. I was five years old, he was four. We lived next door to the local playground, and the woods came right up to the edge of it. So we wandered into the woods and by and by discovered we were lost.

By “lost” I mean totally without a clue, not the foggiest idea where we were, and quite upset by it. We weren’t old enough to imagine ourselves winding up as skeletons among the underbrush, but we were good and scared.

We stumbled around at random until suddenly we emerged from the woods into someone’s back yard, in the little village of Bonhamtown (now paved over for a highway, not a trace of it left).

An old man came out and instantly identified us as being out of place, probably because he recognized all the small boys in his neighborhood. He asked us where we lived, somehow made sense out of our distraught babblings, and took us each by the hand and led us back through the woods and back to the playground, within sight of our respective homes. I was amazed at how little time had passed: my mother hadn’t even missed me. I wasn’t even late for lunch.

I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell her where I was, lest she forbid me to play in the woods anymore.

I look back on this adventure with warm gratitude to that old man, whoever he was, and I will always have a soft spot in my heart for vanished Bonhamtown.

And I am very, very glad it didn’t happen to me in 2015.

The Good Teenager

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Standing tall among my boyhood memories is the image of the good teenager on our street, a young man named Peter. Tall, handsome, he had a brilliant smile and he wasn’t stingy with it. My mother and father, and the other mothers and fathers on the street, thought very highly of him; and all the younger kids looked up to him. He was the kind of teen whom it was very easy to imagine with a sword and a plumed hat, always ready to defend the weak.

I don’t know how Peter did it; indeed, he wasn’t actually doing anything: just being himself. There was nothing phony or contrived about him. And he was interesting. He used to do things that nobody else did: like sitting down at one of the picnic benches, in the playground at the end of our street, with a bucket of boiled crabs. These he freely shared with those few of us who were brave enough to eat something that looked so strange.

I learned to play chess from the kids next door, and when they weren’t around, sometimes I would take my chess set to the playground, set it up on a picnic table, and play imaginary games.

One day Peter, twice my size, came along and offered to play with me. He won, of course, but I hardly noticed. I was playing chess with Peter! It made me feel like a million dollars. He gave me some pointers that helped me play better, and from then on he and I would play once a week or so. I never lost that feeling of having been let in on something special.

When Peter came of age, he joined the Air Force. My family moved to another neighborhood, so I never saw him again.

I have no idea where he might be now; but it wouldn’t surprise me in the least to learn that he was now a king in Narnia.

New Words for Liberals

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

We need some new words in the English language, to describe personality types and behaviors which we run into all the time since the invention of the Internet. Most of this stuff is displayed by our friends on the left side of the socio-political spectrum, but I can’t help that.

I don’t know what the new words ought to be, but here are the definitions that we need them for.

1. Visiting a website with an obviously conservative slant, gratuitously insulting the owner and his readers, and then crying “foul!” if the owner responds in kind. It’s sort of the cyber equivalent of entering someone’s living room, peeing on the furniture, and getting all wounded and cheesed off when they call you a slob.

2. Saying asinine things that are effortlessly demonstrated to be completely untrue, and becoming furious with people who don’t believe you. Like insisting that 2015 is having an incredibly warm winter, and then throwing a tantrum at people who can’t open their front doors because of all the snow piled up against them.

3. The bizarre lefty habit of flying into a rage at even the most insignificant and ineffective opposition, and being utterly unable to be at peace until that tiny bit of opposition is crushed.

4. Railing interminably against God, spewing venom against Him, while all the time asserting He does not exist.

5. Rigorously taking away other people’s choices while presenting oneself as “democratic” and committed to “diversity,” all the while trying to wipe out diversity.

Well, okay, you get the idea. It’d be nice if we could just say, “So-and-so is glumping again,” and everybody would know that So-and-so was up there storming and fuming because he declared “scientists are above ideology” and nobody believed him.

Surely our American English is equal to the challenge.

 

A Valentine’s Day Gift

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

Let us turn from the accelerating, self-inflicted ruination of our world–for the earth is the Lord’s, and He will put it right–and turn to one of the most beautiful songs in the English language–Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms. The words are by the 19th century poet Thomas Moore, who wrote them to his wife, who had smallpox and was afraid he wouldn’t love her anymore.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly today,

Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms,

Like fairy-gifts fading away,

Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear

That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,

To which time will but make thee more dear;

No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,

The same look which she turned when he rose.

And here is a nice video rendition: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPc-TZeUwtl

Sorry, but there is absolutely no way I can read this aloud! My heart fills up, and then my eyes. So as much as I would like to read this to my wife as her Valentine present, I’m afraid she’ll just have to read it herself.

See if you can read it all the way through to your wife, or your husband.

Love is the gift of God (for God is love); and love endures.

[Sorry again! No matter what video I try to post, youtube makes it instantly unavailable. Then it reappears a moment later. I may know some secrets of the heart, but I don’t know beans about computers and you’ll just have to find a video yourself. It won’t be hard–there are many versions of this song on youtube.]

The Abuse of Fantasy

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

What set me off yesterday?

I’m going to review a couple of books in that “Spirit Animals” series, as part of my duties for the Chalcedon Foundation ministry. (We’re celebrating our 50th anniversary this year; visit our website, http://www.chalcedon.edu ). For this series, Scholastic Books rounded up several established fantasy writers, a different writer for each book, all telling the same story. I’ve just finished reading Book #1, Wild Born by Brandon Mull.

Earlier work by these authors has somehow landed on the New York Times best-seller list, so it couldn’t have been cheap to round them up for Scholastic. It seems an odd procedure: Scholastic has the muscle to see to it that a book sells successfully, no matter who the author is.

But I am convinced Scholastic has paid these authors well and told them what to write. And I don’t like what they’re writing.

Let me describe what I’ve read, as simply as I can: unoriginal, formulaic, cringe-inducing prose, Politically Correct, chock-full of cliches, and–most importantly–delivering a thoroughly pagan, New Age message of “spirituality” devoid of a personal God or any kind of moral law handed down by Him.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the authors sugar-coat it by focusing on children whose spiritual bonds with spirit animals give them super-powers–I hate super-powers–that enable them to whup the tar out of any able-bodied adult male. This is pitched to the sense of powerlessness that torments many teens and pre-teens, seducing them with ridiculous visions of radical autonomy. Being able to beat up a grown man, when you’re only 11 years old and weigh 70 pounds, is radical autonomy.

Scholastic’s last big push was for Philip Pullman’s atheist rant trilogy, His Dark Materials. Once parents became aware of what that was about, the book sales slowed to a trickle and the feature film went belly-up.

Having failed to catch the flies with vinegar, Scholastic is now trying to catch them with honey. Where Pullman spat venom, Spirit Animals seduces: playing on most children’s love of animals, making the animals into a kind of God substitute, and so on.

I object strenuously to this abuse of fantasy. It is being used to sugar-coat poisonous ideas. I object to there being so much of this kind of fantasy.

We have to do better than this. We just have to do better.