Tuesday, July 5, 2011

A Good Imagination Gone Wrong

I love this children’s song:

Oh, be careful little eyes what you see …

Oh, be careful little ears what you hear …

Oh, be careful little feet where you go …

(and I like to add a verse)

Oh, be careful little head what you think

Oh, be careful little head what you think

For the Father up above is looking down in love

So, be careful little head what you think


http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://webspace.webring.com/people/kl/liesha_ann/images/pics/pic_annetree.jpg&imgrefurl=http://webspace.webring.com/people/kl/liesha_ann/green.html&usg=__Ja_ssd5QRAKJliwPA_WxoM8PeEI=&h=246&w=200&sz=10&hl=en&start=17&zoom=1&tbnid=vtLFa0YW-HLE3M:&tbnh=156&tbnw=121&ei=a5ETTo7lNeHhiAL2-rzaDQ&prev=/search%3Fq%3Danne%2Bof%2Bgreen%2Bgables%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1211%26bih%3D664%26tbm%3Disch&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=360&vpy=271&dur=4441&hovh=196&hovw=160&tx=86&ty=65&page=2&ndsp=16&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:17&biw=1211&bih=664


I love a good story and a good imagination helps a so-so story to be fairly interesting. But not all stories are good. And not everything that we imagine is beneficial. Not even the true things that happen in our world, in our communities are worth repeating … over and over … like the Casey Anthony case. I believe more harm will come from the news coverage than whatever that woman did or did not do to her child. The Bible tells us to …

11 Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but r

ather expose them. 12 It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. 13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. 14 This is why it is said:

“Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”

15 Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, 16 making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. 17 Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is. Ephesians 5:11-17

God intended us to live abundant lives. It’s hard to live an abundant life if you’re cowering in fear. The Bible also tells us that

Fear of man will prove to be a snare,
but whoever trusts in the LORD is kept safe.

Proverbs 29:25

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://movie.masjo.com/images/anne-of-green-gables-the-collection-.jpg&imgrefurl=http://movie.masjo.com/search/anne%2Bof%2Bgreen%2Bgables%2Bmovie%2Bfree%2Bdownload&usg=__Sc-Wx0yu6En-gvwSQKWtrFpcSmU=&h=500&w=371&sz=52&hl=en&start=83&zoom=1&tbnid=GpKrSWMDBA_X1M:&tbnh=148&tbnw=147&ei=a5ETTo7lNeHhiAL2-rzaDQ&prev=/search%3Fq%3Danne%2Bof%2Bgreen%2Bgables%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1211%26bih%3D664%26tbm%3Disch&um=1

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Perhaps as you read this excerpt from Anne of Green Gables it is possible to see ways that we have allowed our imaginations (via books, movies, the internet) to cause us much grief and pain that is completely unnecessary. Then perhaps you “won’t countenance such things … and it will be a lesson and a warning to you.” … and to me.


“…Anne, I want you to run over and ask Mrs. Barry if she’ll lend me Diana’s apron pattern.”

“Oh – it’s – too dark.” Cried Anne.

“Too dark? Why, it’s only twilight. And goodness knows you’ve gone over enough after dark.:

“I’ll go over early in the morning,” said Anne eagerly. “I’ll get up at sunrise and go over, Marilla.”

“What has got into your head now, Anne Shirley? I want the pattern to cut out your new apron this evening. Go at once and be smart, too.”

“I’ll have to go around by the road, then,” said Anne, taking up her hat reluctantly.

“Go by the road and waste half an hour! I’d like to catch you!”

“I can’t go through the Haunted Wood, Marilla,” cried Anne desperately.

Marilla stared.

“The Haunted Wood! Are you crazy? What under the canopy is the Haunted Wood?”

“The spruce wood over the brook,” said Anne in a whisper.

“Fiddlesticks! There is no such thing as a haunted wood anywhere. Who has been telling you such stuff?”

“nobody,” confessed Anne. “Diana and I just imagined the wood was haunted. All the places around here are so – so – commonplace. We just go this up for our own amusement. We began it in April. A haunted wood is so very romantic, Marilla. We chose the spruce grove because it’s so gloomy. Oh, we have imagined the most harrowing things. There’s a white lady walks along the brook just about this time of the night and wrings her hands and utters wailing cries. She appears when there is to be a death in the family. And the ghost of a little murdered child haunts the corner up by Idlewild; it creeps up behind you and lays its cold fingers on your hand – so. Oh, Marilla, it gives me a shudder to think of it. And there’s a headless man stalks up and down the path and skeletons glower at you between the boughs. Oh, Marilla, I wouldn’t go through the Haunted Wood after dark now for anything. I’d be sure that white things would reach out from behind the trees and grab me.”

“Did ever any one hear the like!” ejaculated Marilla, who had listened in dumb amazement. “Anne Shirley, do you mean to tell me you believe all that wicked nonsense of your own imagination?”

“Not believe exactly” faltered Anne. “At least. I don’t believe it in daylight. But after dark, Marilla, it’s different. That is when ghosts walk.”

“There are no such things as ghosts, Anne.”

“Oh, but there are, Marilla,” cried Anne eagerly. …

“Anne Shirley,” interrupted Marilla firmly, “I never want to hear you talking in this fashion again. I’ve had my doubts about that imagination of yours right along, and if this is going to be the outcome of it, I won’t countenance any such doings. You’ll go right over to Barry’s, and you’ll go through that spruce grove, just for a lesson and a warning to you. And never let me hear a word out of your head about haunted woods again.”

Anne might plead and cry as she liked – and did, for her terror was very real. Her imagination had run away with her and she held the spruce grove in mortal dread after nightfall. But Marilla was inexorable. She marched the shrinking ghostseer down to the spring and ordered her to proceed straightway over the bridge and into the dusky retreats of wailing ladies and headless specters beyond.

“Oh, Marilla, how can you be so cruel?” sobbed Anne. “What would you feel like if a white thing did snatch me up and carry me off?”

“I’ll risk it,” said Marilla unfeelingly. “You know I always mean what I say. I’ll cure you of imagining ghosts into places. March, now.”

Anne marched. That is, she stumbled over the bridge and went shuddering up the horrible dim path beyond. Anne never forgot that walk. Bitterly did she repent the license she had given to her imagination. The goblins of her fancy lurked in every shadow about her, reaching out their cold, fleshless hands to grasp the terrified small girl who had called them into being. … The dreadful return journey had to be faced. Anne went back over it with shut eyes, preferring to take the risk of dashing her brains out among the boughs to that of seeing a white thing. When she finally tumbled over the log bridge she drew one long shivering breath of relief.

“Well, so nothing caught you?” said Marilla unsympathetically.

“Oh, Mar – Marilla,” chattered Anne, “I’ll b-b-be cont-t-tented with c-c-commonplace places after this.”

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