Praise be to our Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth, our Lord and Savior, the only Son of God our Creator- the Sacrificial Lamb who in His unconditional Love for us, took my place in excruciating death, though I had not yet believed nor repented. Hosanna to the One, True King, the Son of God, Jesus Christ. I am the Lord's. Of many people, He has in me chosen the lowliest. "Like a rose, trampled on the ground, You took the fall, and thought of me, above all."
Thank you (again) Ms. Mims. Love you and miss you. Have you showed St. Peter you list, or did he test you on all 500 before you entered the Gates? Xoxo. Sing a song of praise to the Lord in His Holy Presence, and intercede for me if you may to our one Lord Jesus Christ, who loves forever and without fail. Think of John 16:33, and what race you have finished mightily in the Lord, and pray that we may follow you and the Perfect Example, Christ.
JennyMarianne The Ides of March: a tribute to Ms. Mims. I love and miss you, ma'am. "I honor thee, I honor thee; to whom my love is vowed. ... (cont.)
from Miami Beach, FL
11:31 AM - 15 Mar 12via web
Today I honor Ms. Mims; I honor her by re-living and remembering each day her brutal 500-word prefix and suffix obstacle course (turned out she was right, of course- I use that one a lot), her 'I Love Grandma' sweatshirt, her rapt attention at Starlight practices as well as her performance in Big River as the Old Woman on the porch (now I know how to tell a girl from a boy AND how to thread a needle properly), her annual delivery of Marc Antony's speech on the Ides of March in -not to be outdone by Mr. Antony- a full-fledged toga and laurels, her daily prayer-stories, great faith, and her funny cackling smile. Oh, I love you, Ms. Mims. We all do.
I posted something on Facebook today I'd like to share, but to understand where it came from, here is the background story.
Prologue At Orphan Burn at the beginning of September this year, I not surprisingly managed to cause a bit of chaos at some point during the two-day campout. It was about 2:00am, and the bonfire was grand, reaching up to lick the sky and dancing brightly among the swirling neon figures within the trees. Some burners had even finished a most spectacular show of poi (fire) spinning, mostly done with chain hoops, drop-ball handles, and staffs. I decided, mostly in a hazy stupor and somewhat because I didn't know any better (about fire poi), to light my 'own' (aka 'an abandoned') fire staff and 'just spin for a bit.' I accomplished this pretty much by pouring some kerosene into an empty can and lighting it directly with my hand* using a borrowed lighter (there was the 'mostly in a hazy stupor' part). After heavily sloshing both ends of my staff, which turned out to be Byrnie's, I stood by the bonfire looking pretty cool and actually accomplishing more spinning than I thought I would. After all, I did do triple-staff spinning and rod tossing in front of 800 people at my gradeschool gymnasium talent show. So generally speaking, I was well prepared.
A man with some jingling tin cans in hand stumbled by and kicked the still-lit fuel can, sending the oil in tiny rivers of fire through the (luckily) damp grass. Soon a wall of flames started growing behind me. A young woman came bounding across the neon-lit campgrounds and pulled the staff back- asking if I was trained. Trained for what? Destruction? I think I just smiled at her at that point- a blissfully oblivious smile, and ambled back toward my tent. I suppose I didn't realize I was leaving her to smother the tower of flames that erupting beneath the tree where the fuel can storage was housed. I settled into my neighbors' makeshift hookah parlor, or as we called it, our 'trippy little circle.' Ah, well. The hookah tasted fine, and the display was bright. (Soon after, the young woman, who I learned was named Byrnie, came by to lecture me on the dangers of fire. A short but nevertheless interesting conversation ensued...)
*Very unusual, considering that I am very cautious with fire normally. I consider myself honest as to whether or not I am well-read about something or ignorant on the matter, practiced at a skill or lacking, and similar matters. So it is with honesty that I tell you I am not at all smoothly skilled with my new flow poi, and it is with honesty that I tell you I am lacking in knowledge about medical terminology; therefore I truthfully tell you that I would never test the dangerous and unstable power of fire in the manner I have just described. However, it seems to have happened, which is the funny thing about 'influenced' mistakes (as well as regular ones- but under what variables could we ever consider a mistake to be regular, or 'controlled?').
I would like to announce that it is my very firm intention and sole operational goal not to light Byrnie's camp on fire this year at Afterburn. (thoughtful pause) Well, maybe just a little. You have to promote your reputation, you know- especially if it's an infamous one. Wink!
(These are bits and pieces from the aforementioned ensuing interesting conversation.) "Yeah, that was pretty good, I have to say. 'Oh no, I'm on fire. Let's dance, la la la, AH!' She did fine." -Tommy Danger "Stick with the flow poi (just got them!) for now, Jen.. but that was a big flame." -Kc Allen "Wait, she was -- censored (ib diye rpva id pxus) -- at the time? (pause, and grin) High five!!" (high fives) -Byrnie Jenga