One of my favorite songs my school has ever performed, I can not find the lyrics particular to the arrangement I am most familiar with, so I have decided to post them for you online, here. Also see this video for the closest recording of the song I can find.

Oh gracious Lord, by whom the morning dawneth,
Now in thy mercy bless our native land.
Let thy light shine to drive away the shadows,
And free our homes from war’s cruel hands,
To Thee our people pray for Truth and Justice,
And in thy faith united they stand.

Thy wisdom infinite is our reliance.
Thy hand shall keep your people strong and free.
They sow the seed, they calmly wait the harvest,
And give Thee thanks whatever it be.
Our honest toil and zeal shall bring us gladness,
For joy is theirs whose hopes rest in thee.

To such a nation such as this I could pledge my allegiance.


What a bother

Every so often the demons seem to catch hold of the idea that I’m paying attention to my dreams to be aware of any messages that may come in, prophetically, that I’m to share, retell, or to meditate on and on rare occasions, interpret. This happened last night. I always feel shaken when I have a dream bearing bad news, wondering if it’s to be true, and often times those dreams will fade before I can remember specifics. I then remember the dreams and their specifics usually whenever this bad news comes to be. Last night I had a dream that shook me a bit. Continue reading

Another Conversation:

(My husband reads these and cracks up because he doesn’t remember them the morning after, and I think they’re great fun to share. They -usually- don’t happen too often, so don’t worry, hopefully they won’t take over my posts. :))

“[That guy you work with] really goes out of his way to be personable.”
“Yeah, but he’s a bit of an enigma.”
“How so?”
“Well…uhh…sometimes he just turns into this…giant Santa..Clause…”
“He what?!”
“Yeah…and then his computer…uhh…uhm…shows up..on the network…and uhh…umm…I’m not really sure why that matters right now…”
“Darling, are you awake?”
“No, no I don’t think I was.”

*Please note: only my husband would clarify -an- enigma, using proper grammar even in his sleep. ^.^

Where do your fingers go?

When you sleep, do they play guitar in a Latin bar? Are they strangers or lovers? Do they drive your car?

Lyrics to a Cake song. It has some random tidbits in it, but overall a most interesting song that begs the question: where do your fingers go when you sleep? And where do they take you? Have you ever watched a dog sleep and watched his paws twitch while he chases after the things just beyond the tip of his nose? Or a cat? Cats are really funny to watch because it’s a bit more rare. But none the less, humans alike tend to move in their sleep now and again, rolling over, moving their hands, reaching out for things that aren’t there, etc. Some people even talk in their sleep. My brother used to sing in his sleep. Now that was a treat. 😉

My dear husband, Joel, talks in his sleep. Note: I did not say mumbles. He speaks. Clearly and articulately. He did this a few times while napping near me before we were married and now he does it maybe one night a week or so. Probably more often, but I’m usually asleep while it would be happening, I think. It used to be unclear what he was saying, and from the snippets I did catch, I couldn’t understand what was going on in his dreams. But last night, when he fell asleep, he spoke a few different times, all of which were quite interesting.

The first, we had just snuggled into bed for the evening and Joel rolled over and was asleep almost immediately. He spoke clearly to me, asking why we were deploying troops. I asked if he was talking about Obama’s decision to deploy more troops to Afghanistan, but then he asked again why we were sending troops and diplomats. I asked where we were sending the troops, and he barely got out USSR before he woke himself up and I explained that he was fighting a Finnish war in his sleep. See he’s been reading up on the Winter War between Finland and the Soviet Union, which took place during the time of WWII. [The war ended in a peace treaty, but it was clear the Finns came out on top, both in combat and in aftermath]. With Finnish blood flowing through his veins, the stories of his ancestors seem to have followed him into his dreams, where he was commanding the ranks, so it would seem. After he fell back asleep, I was desperately trying to get comfortable, and failing miserably. My antibiotics have given me nausea day after day and often right when I’m trying to sleep. So trying to relieve the discomfort of my tremulous stomach, I flopped onto my stomach, rubbing it a bit to try and work the gas out of it. As I was doing this, Joel, facing away from me on his side in bed, asked me to slow down a bit. “Slow down?” I asked. He rolled over, replying, “That’s good, thank you,” and rubbed my back for a little while. He was asleep for all of this. The rubbing stopped as he switched dreams, and with my stomach finally quieting, I burped facing Joel in bed, to which he replied, “okay,” and was silent for the rest of the night.

So there you have it, my husband fights wars and follows his wife in his dreams. What a darling. 🙂

As for myself, I haven’t had any noteworthy dreams lately.

But I have gotten a new job at the local Borders. I’m orienting today and am quite excited.

Beauty is Only Skin Deep. Just Ask the Demons.

I had a strange dream in the still of this morning, the like of which I haven’t had for some time. In said dream, I was a man being plagued by a demon, masquerading as my wife. The demon possessed my wife, for many years it seemed she had been possessed, and an intangible and unidentifiable, but strong ugliness shone from behind her face. This ugliness was not clear initially because her face itself looked young and beautiful, as if a mature, but young age had been preserved in the face of this elderly woman. The ugliness I speak of shone through her eyes. When I realized the root of her ugliness, I sought to leave her, for I knew she was no longer my wife. Her eyes no longer shone forth her own soul, but had alternate desires and motivations. When I renounced her and sought to leave her, the demon left her body and she decayed, lifeless, before my eyes. The demon still floated before me, charging me to come with him to see my wife, but I refused him, telling him there were higher purposes. His form briefly materialized and my wife’s young face reappeared. Young and beautiful, but with that ever lingering ugliness beneath. I repelled the demon and told it to leave me, but it came after me again, showing this time a hideous mask of my wife with sunken eyes of ash and tar and with decayed sharp teeth and with skin of deep creases of age, with a mouth that had no tongue, no throat, no end to its darkness. It charged me to follow it, for it was my wife, it said, and I was bound to it. But I threw the demon from its meddling in my thoughts and as it attempted to tighten its grip on me, I spoke to it with great force, telling it that I had a higher marriage, to the Most High Lord, that I was his bride and this shattered any other marriage, any other binding contract this world may have on me. The demon, unable to hear such things sought to frighten me, and showed it’s ugly face once more, flying from me and then straight towards me, as if to frighten me.

I was startled by a knock on my door; a dear friend of mine had arrived for an appointment. I opened the door a little crack and remembered vividly the face of the demon, showing me but a hint of the ugliness that must be hell, and shaking this image from my eyes, I saw my friend, bewildered, at my door. I quickly welcomed her in and apologized for my stunned mood, explaining my dream. And now it falls on me to put it forth for you dear people. Perhaps it will teach one of you something.

My Husband and why he’s awesome.

I was going to write a very long entry here all about my husband, Joel, on Thanksgiving so that all the world would know just how great of a husband I have. And then he got home from work Thanksgiving Eve, and all I wanted to do was spend time with him, hence this post has become a bit delayed in its release (and writing, for that matter). This morning, at about 3 am, I found renewed reasons to write this entry, and thus will continue telling you why, indeed, my husband simply rocks.

My husband, Joel, is about 4 inches taller than me, has broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and is the kind of man who always looks either devilishly handsome and slick or absolutely adorable. When dating, I had this way of evaluating men upon first impression as, “yes, he could carry me out of a burning building” or, “no, he could not carry me out of a burning building”. I’m not really sure if other women evaluate men as such, but Joel passed this test easily, and now a days I’m pretty sure he could manage our cat and whatever Children we may have in the years to come. His eyes are set a little far back in his head so that they shine like gems and you only see the full colors in direct sunlight. His eyes hold every wonder of nature in them, and they are the most beautiful explosion of color I have ever longed to gaze into. There is a light red-brown of redwood trees and a soft green like the moss that grows on them, the grey of great mountains or ocean cliffs, and the fading blue of the water that crashes among them. If you are like me, you probably think that most people with their eyes “set far back in their face” look like weasels. I think that too, but not about Joel. His eyes aren’t quite that far back, but they’re more forward, just enough to make you wonder what kinds of thoughts and dreams swirl behind them when he pauses in a conversation, and just enough to make him absolutely adorable when he relates to what you are saying on a heart-felt level. His eyes are always watching, and they listen just as acutely as his ears do. His shoulders are broad, yes. I’m pretty sure I could lay quite comfortably along them, if I really wanted to. His arms are strong and warm, his chest a perfect pillow for my pensive head, his legs are strong and enduring, and his body is always warm. He has messy dark brown hair that curls here and there, especially when it’s wet and he has a scruffy beard that makes him look older than he is. But of all of these wonderful things about Joel, even with as much as I love how he looks, how handsome he is, how beautiful his eyes, and how affectionate his arms, there is one thing I love about Joel more than all of these. And that is his mind.

Last week Joel and I started jujitsu training at a local do-jo. Joel introduced himself, “Joel, like the prophet”. One of my favorite activities is to sit on a bench in any given area with Joel and hear all of the stories he strings together for all of the people passing by. He can tell you the life story of any character with little hesitation, or sit in wonder at how this person managed to end up where they are in life. He’s glad to share a cigar or a brew with absolutely anybody capable of rational discussion and often has a beer with his best friends surrounding discussions of such. He seeks films that make him think and books that pose hard questions and articles that deserve to be turned upside down and given a good shaking. Highest in his mind are his morals, his values, and everything works around these. His faith is the center gear to the clock tower of Joel’s mind. His faith encourages his thinking, his reasoning, his rationalizing. He has learned much on his own, and in turn has taught others to bring them to reason with him, rather than to poke at them while they trudge along left to their own devices. When a man reaches out for help, Joel is not afraid to tell the man that he must help himself, nor to give him a hand, a home, and a meal in his belly. He has taught me much of what I know and helped me to successfully walk away from a relationship that by all means should have left me incapable of life as I know it today. He has taught me, I like to think that I have taught him a few things, and we continue to learn together. I don’t know many men who would rather read to me in the evenings than spend time watching the latest cable television show, nor who would rather watch biographies than the recent stupid comedy. Granted, every once in a while my brain is overloaded and I need a night of senseless fun, but Joel listens and we have our silly times too. Don’t be fooled into thinking that this man only ever wants to do serious and boring things, oh no. This is the man I go parking-lot dancing with, who frequently picks me up and tosses me into our bed just for the hell of it, who showers me with kisses and wrestles and plays with our cat. Don’t let him fool you into thinking that he’s only ever Mr. Serious. I will tell you stories and you shall believe otherwise. 😉

Now, as I’ve said, early this morning, my darling husband gave me all the more reason to love him, and to like him too. At three this morning, that’s 3am, I awoke with a heavy bladder and got up to use the restroom, as I have needed to do more frequently over this past week. But when I attempted to relieve my bodily fluids, they decided to just hang around and I was left sitting on a cold toilet seat, quite uncomfortable with a painful sensation and a need to pee. I called out to Joel and asked him to bring me some water, which he did with little hesitation, and curled back into our bed (the only warm place in the apartment after dark). Back on my unkind seat, I continued to have more pain than is reasonable in those little pains your body gets here and there, and once I had removed myself from this seat, again, I practically kicked my dear husband awake, informing him that I was distressed and suspicious that I had urinated some sort of blood. He sat up, a bit alarmed, while I poked over to webmd on my computer, searching for some sort of answer. (Those of you who know the answer, don’t give it away for the rest of the kids). He asked a bit more about my symptoms and successfully diagnosed me as having a UTI. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s a urinary tract infection. Sounds like fun, don’t it? So at about 3:30-3:45 Joel was on the computer researching home remedies for these infections while I was moaning away from the bathroom. He found a few different remedies for this sort of infection, and even poked around for an alternate to one of them because I was whining about drinking 8 oz. of baking soda water. While I was frantically freaking out because I thought I was dying with blood in my urine, he was calming me down, getting me water, vitamin C, naproxen, encouraging me to draw a warm bath, and even after he’d gone back to bed at my urging, he called out to make sure I was okay after I thought he had been asleep for the past half hour. I finally returned to my bed around five, and his first question was if I was feeling better. He cuddled me close, wet hair and all, and fell right asleep, knowing he’d be ridiculously groggy in the morning. When the alarm went off this morning, he ended up needing to call into work to explain what had happened and ask if he could come in late, just to get enough sleep. We’re both very blessed that Joel works for such a company that actually cares for its workers and their families alike. He snoozed back off to sleep only to be woken by me every two hours asking if he needed to wake up yet. And he didn’t complain once. Not once. I kicked him awake in the dead of the night, insisting that I was dying and he should come and comfort me, and instead of swatting me away and rolling over, he calmed me down and took care of me. -All- of this after he had a rather upset stomach earlier that evening. ‘Twas a night of maladies in the Loukus household.

And that, ladies and gents, is why I love my husband: his handsome grin, his rich mind, his rock hard morals, and his calm sweet comforting nature. He is what I am most thankful for this year.


And now for something completely different: my cat is the spider slayer. He attacked a rather large spider last night, knocked it off the wall and into a pile of clothes (my clothes. Thanks cat), and then continued to track it down and kill it!! He tracked the spider!! Into the pile of clothes!! And found it!! My clothes!! What a cat, eh? What a cat.