Thursday, July 31, 2003

Bonnie/10:22 PM

excuse me, ladies, now i know youse arent all quite dead and in fact know most of you read this at least once a week, so whats the go? why aint youse posting then aye.~~~ do what i did.. login the bloger till you get to then go to favourits and save it under "ok". then you can just type "ok" in the address from now on and it brings you to blogging fom the inside!!

so whats everyones timetable like?
me: work 9-3 uni 5-8
tuesday: SHUM 7-10 (surry hills urban mission- feeding the poor and homeless)
wendesday uni 5-9
fthursday : work 10-7
friday uni 11-2

what have you guys been doing lately?
hey look at this link it is SOOOO MAD! ive watched it three times already. (it must be watched at half size or less.) i recieved it through english service email at church. i also recieved this:

HOW WE FIND GOD
By John Powell
May 17, 2003

John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes
about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students
file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That
was the day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was
combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was
the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was
just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn't what's
on your head but what's in it that counts; but on that day I was
unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange...very strange.

Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith course. He
constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally
loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.
When he came up at the
end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a slightly cynical tone, "Do
you think I'll ever find God?"
I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically.
"Oh," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."
I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out,
"Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find
you!"
He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line --- He will
find you! At least I thought it was clever.
Later I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer.
Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my
office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a
result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm,
for the first time, I believe.
"Tommy, I've thought about you so often. I hear you are sick," I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of weeks."
"Can you talk about it, Tom?" I asked.
"Sure, what would you like to know?" he replied.
"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"
"Well, it could be worse."
"Like what?"
"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that
booze, seducing women, and making money are the real 'biggies' in life."
I began to look through my mental file cabinet under 'S' where I had filed Tommy as
strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back
into my life to educate me.)
"But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, "is something you said to me on
the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I asked you if you thought I
would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which surprised me. Then you said, 'But He will
find you.' I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at
that time. (My clever line. He thought about that a lot!)
"But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that's when I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my
vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But
God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long
time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up
with trying. And then you quit. Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few
more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I
just quit. I decided that I didn't really care about God, about an after life, or anything like
that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable.
I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had
said: 'The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost
equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved
that you had loved them.'"
"So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I
approached him."
"Dad."
"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.
"Dad, I would like to talk with you."
"Well, talk."
"I mean . . . It's really important."
The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"
"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that."
Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and
secret joy flowing inside of him.
"The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never
remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even
though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father,
to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me.
"It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too,
and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other.
We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years.
I was only sorry about one thing --- that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning
to open up to all the people I had actually been close to."
"Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn't come to me when I pleaded
with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, 'C'mon, jump through.
C'mon, I'll give You three days, three weeks.'
Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important
thing is that He was there. He found me. You were right. He found me even after I
stopped looking for Him."

"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very important and
much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest
way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant
consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John
said that.
He said: 'God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in
him.'
Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain.
But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present
Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the
same thing it wouldn't be half as effective as if you were to tell them."

"Ooh ..... I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your class."
"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."
In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for
God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another
appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class.

Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great
step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever
seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.
Before he died, we talked one last time.
"I'm not going to make it to your class," he said.
"I know, Tom."
"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"
"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to hear this simple statement about love,
thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of
heaven --- I told them, Tommy, as best I could.

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two.

It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.

With thanks,

John Powell, Professor Loyola University in Chicago

Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Bonnie/4:25 PM

hey guys i am back from my first ever snowboarding experience at perisher-DAMMIT my poor ass is twice itsoriginal size, i have bruises all around my knees and .. from the T bar. .(if you know what that means)>< and i aquired man-muscles on my arms from having to get up after so many falls all the time. still, it was the best lets go next year!!!
see that wohoaa blogger basic post?? i didnt post that?! wohoaa indeed...??
dudes, did you all pass??? i had a supplementary exam for this stupid stupid subject which i didnt go to because i
- forgot my student card
- left my calculator and pencil case at home
- was late anyway
- didnt study for it
- was extremely fatigued as it was the day after i returned from all that hardcore snowboarding.

this guy at uni goes if you got a supp exam its coz you got like 45 for the subject or something and if you beg for a pass conceded they do it for you...T.T i think i might have to do that..

Bonnie/4:18 PM

wohoaa blogger basic is massese different

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