Extraordinary Trifles

2012-01-22T20:27:00.002-06:00

Sometimes, when we get hurt, we act like wounded animals. The strong ones lash out while the weak ones hide, but neither help or trust one another. Sometimes misunderstandings and miscommunications grow up to become mistakes and misgivings that may not ever be undone. Sometimes I want to start over.

People are so hard sometimes. We are all so different. We perceive differently, we hope differently, we mourn differently, we feel differently and we love differently. I will be the first to admit there are people in my life I do not understand.

It's possible to forgive anyone and everyone. I will be the first to admit I fail and do not. Every Sunday I confess my sins. I have no hope but God.

I am the hiding, weaker wounded. I hold many thoughts and feelings inside. The few times I have tried to express them, someone stronger strikes out and I recoil. I have learned to be silent; to wait and hope one day things will magically be healed. They rarely are.

My relationship with my father is difficult and I don't know what else to say.

Things around the house that make me happy, Part 2

2011-08-25T21:31:00.000-05:00

Mom's fiery marigolds

Apple season is almost upon us!!! BEST harvest of the year.

My old dog grinning like an idiot because he now has an official,
bought-from-the-store-squeaking-deluxe-dog-toy.

A pair of morning glory (or sweet pea) plants growing in my window. I like not
knowing which one they are.

An envelope on my dresser :)

The vast and wonderful world of music

A invitation

This particularly adorable little guy. Whom I can't keep, but I can
love for a few more weeks anyway.

And my brand new cookie monster shirt. :)

The hurt

2011-08-06T08:55:00.005-05:00

As I sit, there's the sweetest puppy, only 4 weeks old, sleeping on my lap. I would say sleeping peacefully, but not really. He's having violent tremors in his sleep. It's common with baby dogs. They grow up so fast their little muscles don't know how to handle it sometimes and they just shake. It's so sad when their tiny bodies get caught up in such furious seizures. I snuggle him closer and stroke his little head and tell him not to worry, it's normal, he will be ok... but I can't stop his trembling. It will come and go and continue until he is strong enough to stop it.

It was gloomy all yesterday and rained all last night. It seemed like all the melancholy and aggravation of the heavens were being let go. Storms teach us that sometimes you need to have the freedom to release everything that's stored up inside. The torrents of tears, the flashes of anger, the yelling clouds, and the confusion of winds blowing you every which way. I don't feel free to let those things out. People are always watching and I have always been terribly afraid of people. Losing their love and respect. Falling short of their good opinion. Making them unhappy. I try to hold it all in. I know I can't handle it but I always think I have to try. I have storms inside and through all these years I still haven't learn how to let them go.

Someone I love is far away. This week I learned he will be much farther away for another year. I guess it doesn't make much difference; I can't be with him now and I won't be with him there. But it makes such a huge difference. The farther he goes the more my heart stretches to try and go with him and it is stretched so tightly now I can't think about it stretching any more and every now and then I feel it tearing but I can't help it because I can't stop him and I can't stop my heart from loving him so just like a shaking puppy no matter how much I try to rest peacefully, and no matter how many times people tell me it will be ok, I can't because I am not strong enough yet.

The sun came out this morning but I'm not there yet. I am still learning how to let go of the rain.

Fish are jumpin', the cotton is high ♫

2011-07-18T11:41:00.012-05:00

Summertime:

Cool swim on a hot day anyone?

My baby sister enjoying a friend's pool

Goggle fun

...Even more goggle fun :p

Sister's boyfriend noticing that I'm creeping everyone with my camera

I love it when Winston smiles

mmmm memories....

...and the living is easy :)

There's nothing more perfect

2011-07-17T03:31:00.000-05:00

Then a surprise flower delivery from someone you love. ♥

Something wonderful

2011-07-15T13:57:00.004-05:00

The most beautiful gifts are unexpected.

Once upon forever, I've wanted something. Timidly, fervently, greatly. It's not a passing desire flying on a fancy. Not a whim, nor a craving; no consumer's opium....a yearning knit deeply to my insides, carefully interwoven with bones. If you follow the thread from needle to knot, you will pass through the middle, through the spirit, through the heart. I feel it because I am alive.

12 days ago a man woke up in our basement. He is used to waking before me. The military has apparently gotten a hold of his internal clock, even at 6:00 am on vacation. I was quietly sleeping until I was awakened by the faint beeping on my phone. Rubbing my eyes I read: 1 new text message.

"I am awake and missing you. I love you."

I had just said goodnight to him 6 hours before. I smiled. Normally, I wouldn't have gotten up for another hour and I was tired. For a moment, I considered simply enjoying the thought that he wanted to be with me and closing my eyes again to steal just a little more slumber. But I couldn't. I realized I missed him too. It felt silly. He was only in the other room. A few walls and some stairs away, that's it. Yet somehow, that was a few walls & stairs too many. I didn't really think about what that meant because I was too busy jumping out of bed to go find him.

We sat in the kitchen sipping coffee and talking for a while. "I have to go soon." He whispered. He always talks quietly when he says that. I know why. We drove to the airport later that day and had to say goodbye again.

In the past, it's been a little hard to leave. This time it was heartbreaking. I don't know why my tears caught me off guard. I know now, I love him too. Really. Really, really, thoroughly. Wonderfully and painfully. He told me it would be ok and told my sister to take care of me, then flew 893 miles away.

A few walls & stairs too far...

I miss him more than I can tell you.

Ignore this post.

2011-06-30T15:14:00.003-05:00

I hate my job.

ok, let me preface this by saying I am entirely grateful for the blessing of being able to make a productive living for the last 6 years. I am incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to work and provide for myself. I sincerely thank God for everything he's taken me through for the greater half of the last decade because I know, ultimately, it's for my own good, and I have benefited from the experiences.

But I hate my job.

I dread, with every bit of my being, pulling myself out of bed and driving 50 miles to that place. I put gold into my fuel tank (at least it feels like it) and watch it fall out of my car behind me on the long road. When I arrive, I am greeted by a foul stench and stale air as I walk through the door. The stench never goes away, I just get accustomed to it. In the wintertime, the building is cold. In the summer it's cold. Dirty male truck drivers frequent the women's bathroom and leave traces of their "presence" for me to clean up after them. The massive, hollow building is vacant but for a few people here and there and usually deathly haunting and quiet. Sometimes the man who owns it pay the electric bill, sometimes he decides to wait until after our power has been shut off and we've been deprived of a whole day of work before he takes care of it. There are traces of rodents everywhere; I sweep up their poop and occasionally their carcases. The dumpster sometimes gets emptied. Sometimes we store trash up waiting. The floor is filthy, and the more you clean it, the worse it seems to get. The 5 second rule will kill you in this building.

Our office is dull with two tiny windows to torture me with sunshine I can't play in. I keep it stocked with office supplies the best I am able. When we run out of something, I buy more. When the company can't afford it, I pay for it myself. I have a stack of receipts for office supplies that may or may not ever get paid back. But I do it because I want to. It's my contribution to the welfare of our little, hurting company, and I wouldn't ever want anyone I work with to know about it. But I won't lie, it makes it that much harder to keep my cool when someone complains we've run out of cups, or paper, or pens (that simply mysteriously disappear, no one steals them) or asks for the 14th time "When are you going to buy me my supplies I keep asking for??"

Every Monday morning I am more often greeted with "Get me this" or "What can you tell me about this" by workers then with "Hello." or "Good Morning".

We have bills we can't pay. I don't have answers for why. There are many reason. Some are just unfortunate and lots are due to bad decisions. But it's not my job to critique the decisions. It's my job to pay the bills. This is the hardest part of my job. I know, I know full well, that the way the company chooses to spend it's money isn't up to me. I haven't, and don't, make any decisions on what is a good idea financially and what is not. I just write the checks. But for someone like me, who has been raised all of her life to believe in the pitfalls of debt, and the extreme importance of living within your means and making wise financial investments.....I can't shake it. I can't separate myself emotionally. I just can't. When I sit at my desk and just stare at the bulging folder full of invoices I know full well we can't pay....it breaks my heart. I don't know what to do. It's my job to pay these people what we've agreed to pay them and I can't do it. Then add on top of that faces of employees who work hard for the money, who deserve their money and more...having to tell them we can't reimburse them right now. Asking them to hold their paychecks til we have sufficient funds. The bank notices. The bill collectors. The red numbers. The overwhelming debt. The fear of it all collapsing on itself. It's beyond a guilt trip. It's a guilt trip wrapped inside a stress-fest.

Add to that the occassional customer phone call that goes devistatingly wrong and I'm on the verge of disappearing from civilization completely. I can't deal with any more pressure.

This is why a lighthearted joke like "It's all Olivia's fault" or "If we didn't pay you so much we'd be ok" makes me want to curl into a corner and cry. I know, I know, I'm sensitive and you were joking.

I come home at night exhausted. Not because I have done anything hard (I sit in a chair getting fat....oh yay.) but because I am just totally drained. Then I attempt my detachment ritual. I try to let it all go and forget about all of it. I pretend like I am totally free from it. I don't have to worry about any of it any more. Rarely do I convince myself...there's just this annoying little logical part of my brain that reminds me "You have to do it all over again tomorrow." that I can't get rid off.

The worst part is that I know if I leave there's really no one who will want to take on the mess that I leave.

But if I'm honest with myself, I don't think I can do it much longer. I used to think I was just a selfish brat for wanting out. I've tried my hardest to make the most of things while I'm here and I will continue to do for as long as I stay. It many ways there have been things that make it worth it. But I'm not sure that's the case anymore.

So fair warning:

I hate my job and I have come to terms with it.

2011-06-23T12:35:00.002-05:00

One dozen

2011-05-15T21:39:00.000-05:00

12 Daysssssss!!!!!!!!!!

Dandelions

2011-04-14T10:16:00.001-05:00

Are fierce and beautiful and free.

Spring spring sing spring!!!!!!!!!!!

2011-04-13T09:27:00.005-05:00

You know what rhymes?

Redbud trees and lilac leaves.

Yup. They kinda color rhyme too.

Also, here is a chicken "flying the coop":

Just so you know it really does happen.

48 days :)

2011-04-09T19:22:00.006-05:00

Till I am I with you again.

I learned an important lesson

2011-04-03T02:08:00.000-05:00

About photographing kids. Especially 8 month old babies.

Always, always, always figure out what the essential shot you want is and take that one first.

Otherwise you may end up with a bunch of these:

Although I have to admit, I think they're pretty cute anyway :)

Confession

2011-03-04T21:55:00.002-06:00

Friday nights have always been depressing for me.

Because on Friday nights I feel especially trapped, and
somehow it's been ingrained into my mind that's the only
way life should be.

And it makes me terribly sad.

By the way

2011-02-22T19:34:00.001-06:00

I have a new before-bedtime past time.

That I am enjoying greatly.

Irises are my favorite

2011-02-22T16:15:00.011-06:00

The night before Valentine's Day I was told by someone I might get an e-card. Maybe. If they had time. I was told I might get it a day late if someone was too busy. Not going to lie, I was tempted to tell someone what they could do with their silly, day-late e-card.

The next day when I got home these were waiting for me. Sneaky stinker. ♥

They've died by now. But I decided to keep them alive ☺

This stuff is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S

2011-02-21T22:13:00.002-06:00

What do you get when two people from the same family accidentally buy
bananas on the same day without the other one's knowledge? You get 8
clusters of bananas in your house. 8 CLUSTERS.

What do you get 5 days later?

18 over-ripe bananas on your dining room table.

Or, you get 4 loaves of banana bread and 5 over-ripe bananas.

The latter is much more yummy.

Yesterday

2011-01-07T23:11:00.000-06:00

I got a very sweet card:

Then there was this card with these guys who yelled silly birthday stuff at me in the middle of a restaurant. I didn't understand most of it. Something about wax in their noses and I'm too dang old...I liked it:

I saw some friends and missed a couple of friends.

Well one I kind of saw :)

The other one I will see soon. ♥

Kinda scared; mostly excited

2011-01-05T18:15:00.003-06:00

Worries aren't worth the time I give them.

It's wasteful to spend so much time thinking "What if" and "How" or "Could this". I have realized for a while now how scared I am of hoping and dreaming. I simply don't know how not to be afraid. Too many secret disappointments. Too many sleepless nights alone. I forget what's it like sometimes to let go and get excited and WISH. How to see something in your mind that you love enough to let it into your heart. How to be honest and think to yourself, I want this.

Well, I'm tired. I'm tired and feel too young to feel old. I want life. I want this. It's the truth, and I think I am ready to start facing it. I want to stop dwelling on the unhappy things that will happen, and start being thankful for the wonderful things that are happening. I want to start living for more than just the future. I also want to be in the here and now.

So.

Tonight, I'm going to pray and take a step and be brave and hope like I haven't hoped in a long time.

Things around the house that make me happy

2011-01-02T10:51:00.012-06:00

And maybe the happiest of all...

♥

On the last day of the last month of two thousand ten

2011-01-01T09:42:00.007-06:00

The sun set at 4:50 pm. It was breathtaking.

I watched it go down. Whenever I see God painting colors I wonder He is feeling. Then I tell Him what I am feeling.

You know, I have grown up, for the most part, being taught to mistrust feelings. I have spent a long time being wary of emotions. It's not in any way that I do not feel. I FEEL. In fact, I tend to think of myself as more emotional than what is considered average. I suppose what I mean is I have been conditioned to disregard feelings. To hide them away and never act upon them. There is some wisdom to that, I think. Lord knows the heart can mislead you. But sometimes, I think, there is also a danger. A danger of becoming...less human.

Being human is a good thing. I struggle to believe it sometimes. But it's true. If it were not, God wouldn't have become a man. The great lengths Divinity has taken for our redemption is because we have been created in the image of something beautiful, and that has been deemed worth saving. I know all men are not good. But all men are loved, with such a Great Love that gives us value. Dignity.

The sunset reminds me that God is alive. I always know He is there. He exists. But a painted sky tells me, He l i v e s. He is passionate. Ardent. Thinking. Moving. Seeing. Hearing. Speaking. Feeling. He expresses Himself.

He shows us joy, gladness, anger, peace, sorrow, compassion, care. He shows us diversity unashamedly. And in some ways, He gives us glimpses of Himself in the feelings we have. Have you ever wondered why the touch of water upon our skin can feel so refreshing? Why the softness of a blanket can be so comforting? Why the smell of food makes us hunger? Why is fire hot, and why is the winter wind so bitterly cold? Why do we long to be kissed, why words make us laugh, why we feel peaceful when holding a sleeping child? Why do we miss someone far away, why do we build up dreams and why do we cry at matters big & small? Why do we fall in love?

Do you wonder?

Because He does. Differently. Mysteriously. Bigger. Purer. Grandiosely. He is. He lives.

So sometimes I think I should be too. I should live. Not be afraid to acknowledge what I think, what I feel, who I am. Learn to be honest about who I am and convey. Express. Show the world what is inside me, because that is what I am created to do.

The sun rose at 7:20 on the first day, of the first month, of the two thousand eleventh year. It was breathtaking too. But I did not take a photo of it. I just sat and watched. And experienced all the thoughts & feelings it held. And now I am going to try my best to live it.

Winter part 2

2010-12-26T16:34:00.003-06:00

Of snow

2010-12-24T15:56:00.026-06:00

"For to the snow He says, 'Fall on the earth'... " (Job 37:6)

...And it fell.

Haiku kind of night

2010-09-28T00:56:00.001-05:00

He's right, "things" matter
He's right, "things" do not matter
All matters: he's right.

-

None can change a mind
Yet rain makes the river strong
Love can mend a heart

-

A star razes dark
A treasured wish to amend
Letting go is hard.

-

I count the colors
In the least drop of dew
Dear God, I am small.

-

Surprised by sunrise
When we least expect the light
Maybe there is hope.

Things a 6 yr. old should never, ever, have to say:

2010-09-11T22:49:00.000-05:00

"I don't know what we're going to do, Mom... I'm too little to go to work for us."

But bless his broken little heart, he is more of a man than his father.

31 hrs of lunacy

2010-09-09T10:59:00.009-05:00

September 7th, 2010, 5:00 pm: Left work after an abysmal day full of stress and imprudent, selfish clowns. Headed to meet my sister for a sleepover at her place.
September 7th, 2010, 5:15 pm: Realized I left my cell phone locked in the filthy, empty, warehouse of my employment.
September 7th, 2010, 5:40 pm: Arrived at college campus planning to use campus coffee-house internet to contact home, to have home contact sister, to tell her that I am wandering around campus with no phone, please come find me before I get hit on by some scary teenage athlete with overcharged hormones.
September 7th, 2010, 5:45pm: Found sister in coffeehouse. Hallelujah.
September 7th, 2010, 6:00 pm: Arrived with sister at her house. Ate leftovers for dinner. Same left-overs I ate for lunch. Still tasty. Watched a movie.
September 7th, 2010, 7:35 pm: Ate extreme-chocolate ice cream cake from DQ. With additional Oreos and Dove chocolate on top.
September 7th, 2010, 8:00 pm: Endorphins and sugar rush kick in. Super happy. Sister asks if she can invite friend over to watch movie with us. Endorphins say: "Sure! I don't care." Third wheel syndrome creeps in.
September 7th, 2010, 9:00 pm: Friend informs sister he will not be there unless there is pizza. Sister bakes frozen pizza.
September 7th, 2010, 9:30 pm: I eat 2nd dinner. Informed (via facebook) by gay boyfriend that I will be performing with he & sister on Oct. 27 at college coffee-house. Unsure on how likely this is to actually occur.
September 7th, 2010, 10:00 pm: Sister informs me friend will be bringing ANOTHER friend. Third wheel syndrome replaced by freaking out syndrome.
September 7th, 2010, 10:30: Friend and other friend arrive. Devour pizza. Watch tv & movie. Other friend looks at people creepy.
September 8th, 2010, 1:00 am: Friend & Friend leave. I realize I have forgotten my overnight bag and have no clean clothes for when I wake up. Go to bed.
September 8th, 2010, 9:00 am: Get into car in pajamas.
September 8th, 2010, 10:00 am: Arrive at dirty warehouse of my employment to find phone in my pajamas. Parked in Harry's parking space. Sorry, Harry. Found phone.
September 8th, 2010, 11:00 am: Arrived home. Made more coffee.
September 8th, 2010, 12:00 pm: Sophie arrives home with General Tso's chicken from the deli. Red peppers mixed in around chicken are liquid fire. We know this from experience. Sophie says: "I'm gonna eat one". I say " ME TOO". We eat peppers like idiots. Almost die. Running around crying and blowing nose and sucking on ice for 30 minutes. Stomach starts to feel like it's going to crawl up my esophagus and out my mouth and go jump into a pool.
September 8th, 2010 12:45 pm: Bertie & I leave for small town bank.
September 8th, 2010 1:15 pm: Bertie & I get stuck at railroad crossing waiting for the world's longest train.
September 8th, 2010 2:00 pm: Bertie & I arrive at friends house to meet our brothers and their friend...who are going to teach me to ride a dirt-bike.
September 8th, 2010, 2:30 pm: I am let loose on mini dirt-bike. They have taught me how to start it, switch gears, and brake. Decided to wear helmet.

September 8th, 2010, 3:15 pm: Ran into ditch.
September 8th, 2010, 3:16 pm: Brother's friend pulls bike out of ditch. Asks if I'm ok. I feel fine. He looks amazed. Says bike flew up and hit me in the head. I didn't feel it. I get back on bike. Have a great time.
September 8th, 2010, 3:30 pm: Brother's friend wipes out on big dirt-bike. Apparently this never happens. We decide I am bad luck.
September 8th, 2010, 3:40 pm: Finished dirt-biking. I decide it was AWESOME. Discovered grass burns on arm. Stings.
September 8th, 2010, 4:00 pm: Played Wii for the first time ever. Bowled. Came in last place. Neck started to feel sore.
September 8th, 2010, 4:30 pm: Jumped on trampoline like a 9 year old. Back started to hurt. Left with Bertie for home.

September 8th, 2010, 5:00 pm: Played half a game of Scrabble with Sophie & Bertie. Argued over whether or not axe is spelled "ax" or "axe". Dictionary says both acceptable. Dictionary wrong. It's "AXE". Geesh.
September 8th, 2010, 5:15 pm: Collectively decided to quit scrabble game and play guitar/sing songs instead. Sophie, Bertie, & I discover once again we are abysmal at harmonizing with one another. Sophie sings a bass solo. Laugh until we can't breathe.
September 8th, 2010, 6:00 pm: Go for bike ride with Sophie & Bertie. 2.2 miles. 1.1 miles up steep hills. Right leg started to hurt.
September 8th, 2010, 7:00 pm: Eat dinner. Showered. Discovered bruises all over right leg from dirt-bike fiasco.
September 8th, 2010 10:00 pm: Neck & back really starting to kill from the great dirt-bike incident of 2010.
September 8th, 2010, 11:00 pm: Watched documentary on the Galapagos Islands. Reminded me of stupid computer game called "Galapagos" that I never beat. Played stupid computer game for 15 minutes. Gave up.
September 8th, 2010, 12:00 pm: Went to bed happy. Fantastic day.

Selfish wish

2010-09-03T22:04:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I just get scared.

Scared about where I'll end up, and when I'll end up there, and who will be there with me.

Afraid that if I am honest about my fears the people around me will remind me of all the reasons I shouldn't be afraid which I already know but sometimes it's just so hard to get them from our heads to our hearts and what we really want is for someone, anyone, to simply say they are scared too and that everyone feels this way at some point in their lives and they hope you get your dreams but they will still love you even if you do not, then hold your hand for while and let you cry till it's all out and never think any less of you.

I just realized 2 minutes ago

2010-08-24T11:26:00.003-05:00

How deeply I am afraid to love.

Butterflies

2010-08-21T21:12:00.001-05:00

Walks are glorious things. Walks through summer fields full of colorful, lively, flying creatures especially fancy me. It's so surreal. To think those little creatures can simple chose to take flight on a whim, without the smallest fear of chains. Not a thought to what they leave behind, they only forward fly. No fences, no walls...no cares but flowers.

Around this time of year

2010-08-18T23:19:00.008-05:00

She leaves for school and friends; I stay.

And I am reminded that winter is unavoidable.

When the sun doesn't shine

2010-08-17T10:13:00.016-05:00

It's awfully gray outside my window right now...

That's better. :)

Confession

2010-08-16T20:08:00.000-05:00

A few years back someone I loved very much got quiet on me. Very quiet. In fact, he stopped speaking to me completely. I never knew why.

Then one day, out of the blue, he said something. He told me that I was alone. That I was not wanted and not loved and alone.

I have since forgiven him for saying those things to me

....but I have never forgiven myself for believing they were true.

I hope she knows she not alone

2010-08-14T23:26:00.001-05:00

Someone I know is going through a divorce. An ugly divorce that neither she, nor her 4 little children, want. I admit don't know her very well, but I wish I did. I also wish I could somehow take all the hurt, pain, doubts, tears, and worry away from her fragile heart for just a few moments so she could rest. I cannot do the latter. The former I may be able to remedy, or at least I have promised to try. She needs friends right now, and I need to befriend people right now. I don't know what she's going through, but I know what it's like to hurt. I have never experienced divorce but I have felt alone. I have have never lost a husband but I have been used and mistreated. We all know what it's like to feel betrayed. We all know anger & distrust & fear & that deep, deep sadness that time alone will not heal. None of us can make it on our own and all of us are qualified to help one another.

I stayed with her tonight. She talked a lot about the challenges and struggles she is suffering day in and day out. I couldn't find many words for her, because I am not strong in that way. But I can listen. I can nod my head and acknowledge her pain. I can cry with her and validate her feelings. I may not have all the answers for people, but I can care about their questions. Then I can pray like a mad woman that God will somehow take my intentions and allow this blustering, awkward fool to show her His love, in some small way. Then I can hope.

It's not easy putting yourself inside other people's problems. It's awkward and messy and scary because what if I bring more trouble than good or what if I am myself and I say something stupid, or I can't find anything to say at all, but Jesus loved us enough to die so how much should we suffer to live? We have to dare. Take chances and leaps then let go and rest in a goodness that is greater than just me. It's the only way.

Her parents are staying with her for now. He dad is a wise man. I am glad he is there for her. He said some profound things to us today. He talked about life and the things that are important in the end. "Looking back" he said, "it's not the things you gained in life that are important. It's the things you gave that mean something." And he is right. The things we take may make us happy for a moment, but the times we give bring us eternal joy. We don't heal by doctoring ourselves, but by nursing the wounds of others.

So God bless K. & T. & B. & D. & dear sweet little J. until the night has passed and maybe, if Love is real, we will all see the morning together.

Quote I like #10,590,381,937:

2010-08-13T13:26:00.000-05:00

"Wonders will never cease." - Sir Henry Bate Dudley

I'll be berry happy, at least

2010-08-11T20:35:00.007-05:00

Today, I didn't have to work and I needed to clear my head so I took a long walk. It was sunny & warm & lovely. I adore taking walks. Walking through nature is my favorite. I find myself more and more connected to and appreciative of the natural world. I love the earth. I love it's design & uniqueness. I love the adventure. The life. The discovery.

I have been sad about a few things of late. I thought about them. I wondered and asked and thought and cried...

..until I accidentally found the most colorful berries I had ever seen, clinging oh so precariously to their vine.

Then, for a moment, I couldn't help but smile.

It's the little things, I guess.

It is not stupid to mourn a dog

2010-08-10T15:14:00.002-05:00

...or a bird, or a tree, or a friend of any kind.

I will miss the little guy.

--
Death, is a burden all the world shares. Someday, from death, all the world will be free.

I don't know who Sam Butler is.

2010-08-09T22:44:00.000-05:00

But I know exactly what he means.

Giant dandelions? Yes, please.

2010-07-24T19:22:00.016-05:00

Today, I discovered in the Black Hills there are super-giant, white, airy puffs of dande seeds...

This officially solidifies a special place in my heart for the great state of South Dakota.

9 hours in that car, missing you

2010-07-22T21:23:00.003-05:00

On the road today...

Driving past a host of wildflowers. The purplish ones are beautiful. I like them. Christina says they are called purple corn flowers. I thought that was a silly name. She says she meant cone-flowers. I love purple cone flowers.

After a few hours I took my camera out to take their photo, but I never saw another one. Not one. We had passed them all. We were passing brush.

Things fly through our lives quickly. Things we expect to be there: then one moment they are gone. Perhaps we don't even see them leaving. Sometimes it doesn't even hurt when they disappear, but the minute you realize they're no longer in your life...those times sting.

And good Lord help me, one day I had to adjust to milk-weed blossoms instead of cone-flowers. Burs instead of daisies. Today a Black Eyed Susan was found in places where Queen Anne once laced. Susan is a lovely little lady, but Anne felt like home. Life changes and so must I.

But the grass is always green, and the trees still grow leaves. Some things don't change. Those things are at the heart of love. Trustworthy. Faithful. I used to dream of yellow fields and purple skies....but now I am glad the sky is forever blue, because it means God loves the world and I can love hearts around me. It means it might rain today. Tomorrow the sun might shine. But today & tomorrow the sky will still be there.

It means this is all worth it.

It means there's hope.

2010-06-08T18:16:00.003-05:00

Ever have times where you don't even know where to begin to get what needs to come out...out?

I haven't slept for more than a few hours a night in weeks. Rest never has come easy for me...but these days my mind is warring it. So many thoughts, so many emotions, so much to lay down.

My uncle is dying. His name is Kurt. He is my mother's only sibling and he will never see his 60th birthday. Sunday morning I drove the 4 hours to Cedar Rapids with my mother, to see him for the last time. Kurt is an alcoholic, a druggie, a father, and the most tortured, wicked soul I have ever crossed paths with. We didn't see him much growing up. Probably because he was too busy drinking himself in and out of rehab, or getting himself arrested. But the few memories I have of him were fond ones. I loved my uncle. I still love my uncle. The man always made us smile. He had a witty comment for everything and told the most bizarre stories. Half the time, we were never sure if he was telling us about a real adventure, or if they were just tales from a drunken/high mind. But either way they were fantastic. Stories of chasing Venus, abandoned latrines, ice diving, vulture attacks, and Tippy the tapeworm...we used to love listening to him.

I guess deep down, I always knew he was bad. I could see it. He has a foul tongue and a evil, complaining spirit. Above all, he always holds the blackest bitterness I have ever seen against his mother, my Grandma. He hates her. The woman who has sacrificed more of herself than any mother should have to. She has never let him go. Bailing him out of jail, putting him in Rehab, thousands of thousands of dollars given, graciously bearing up under all his verbal abuse and accusations against her...he hates her.

We walked in to see him when we got there. My Grandma stood outside the door. He looked like death itself. A ghastly, thin, shrunken figure with no strength left in his body at all. I hadn't seen him for almost 4 years, and in those 4 years, life has crept away from him. My mother looked at her brother and said hello. He yelled as best he good at her to get out. He didn't want to see her. "Is mom here???" he screamed, "I hate her, I don't want her here, or you, you get out!". I began to cry. I wanted more than anything to tell this poor wretched soul that I loved him, and to offer forgiveness to a heart that has none. But I could not. And we had to leave. He did not want us there.

We waited in a little lobby on an uncomfortable couch most of the day. His children arrived later in the day. I remember my cousin from years ago, but I do not know them. I know they have had a rough life. His daughter looked stressed. His son was the definition of grief. He has bruises up and down his body, he was thin, his eyes watered, and he smelled of alcohol. He is walking the same path that put his father in that bed in that room down the hall. I gave him a hug and asked how he was doing. "Alright" he said. It was a lie we both understood. I blinked back tears and tried to smile for him. "I've tried to prepare myself for this day...you know, the last time I will see him...but..." He could say no more.

The hours past. His children tried to convince him to let the rest of his family come in to say goodbye. He would not. My Grandmother finaly had to leave..."I'm going down there to see him, one last time." she said. "I don't care what he does or says, I need to tell him I love him". And she did. Moments later she ran out in tears. I hugged her and mom walked her to her car.

"I should have shot you when I had the chance. I hate you. Get the hell out."

That's what he said to her. He wished death upon the woman who gave him life...as what will probably be his last words to her. "He's not going to heaven" Grandma whispered through her tears. "My son is evil."

We left soon after. 4 hours home. I felt more pain, more sorrow in my heart than I have for a long time. So much hopelessness in the hearts of so many. O God, if you have created vessels of wrath for some purpose, that purpose is not known to me. I do not understand. All of the years of prayers and hopes and witness and to see such a broken end. I do not understand. Jesus, I love you. Help me to trust, because I do not see.

I don't see why these days are so full of the weights of divorce, and abuse, and suffering, and hypocrisy, and death, and loneliness, and scars, and debt, and rain and friends lost and words said and dreams passed, and hearts broken, and nights awake and tears cried if I ever needed to let go and let God I think it is right now so please take these fears and worry and griefs and all this mess and cover them in grace.

A lesson in belief

2010-05-25T22:11:00.003-05:00

Suffer me to venture next dawn
so silent. so still.
before the clamor of life
bequeath a lesson unlearned
lessons flying on the wind
past the weighted valley
over the swelling hills
drifting on clouds of cotton
brandished by the meadow lily
more wild
more free
than you or I.
Limitless in joy
passionate in generosity
honest in grief
gracious in existence.

Lightly sparrows soar.

Patiently dandelions fight.

Hallelujah a day
the weeping willow & my heart
laugh once more
worries dancing away
from the courts of the poor
and the roaring of kings
to the sound of tambourines
clapping their hand agleam
with the morning glow.

The thistle unashamed
to grow emeralds and gold
the phoenix unafraid
to flee Macbeth,
Leviathan,
mendacity
and the rain
will wash us all clean.

Suffer me to venture
apportion me to fly
hearten me to learn

faith.

A short list of things I am not:

2010-05-14T22:48:00.004-05:00

I am not the dirty laundry

I am not dishes on the basement floor

I am not this old orange carpet

I am not my failures.

I am not lipstick & mascara

I am not a cheap glass of alcohol

I am not alone.

I am not the source of someone's anger

I am not the dust on these walls.

I am not checks bounced

I am not work and chores

I am not books read.

I am not responsible for your thoughts

I am not unintelligent.

I am not looking for a fight

I am not someone else's scars

I am not worth hatred

I am not what I wear.

I am not yet home

I am not my messy hair

I am not your opinion of me

I am not afraid for my soul

I am not skinny

I am not fat

I am not sleeping.

I am not defined by the color of my skin

I am not inferior in the eyes of God

I am not the possession of any man

I am not at leisure

I am not your enemy

I am not the things I forgot

I am not the things I lost

I am not an accident

I am not all that I say.

I am not a high-heeled shoe

I am not those paintings.

I am not finished learning

I am not finished growing

I am not finished forgiving.

I am not certain if you still want me, but

I am not running away.

I am not letting go of love.

the lesson

2010-05-04T14:55:00.002-05:00

my heart

broke.
open.

and that's the point.

My bed of flowers

2010-04-24T22:06:00.012-05:00

It's a funny thing, the wallflower syndrome.

Some of us are born with a touch of it; some of us with a whole bouquet.

It is not just the feeling that you do not belong, because you know you do. It is not just the fear of being unloved, because you know you aren't. It's not just a lack of words to say, or just a lack of passion for the people around you, or just an unwise judgment, or just an unfounded worry, or just a fault, or just a hurt. It is not just these things.

It's just a hope. A hope that somewhere, out there, there is someone else who counts the colors of the sunset, and asks the birds what they've seen, and speaks without talking, and dreams without sleeping, and laughs at the things no one but you ever laughed at, and treasures the peaceful, and wonders what God was feeling when he painted green pastures, and sees the fairies riding on the dandelion seeds, and hasn't grown too old for imagination, and believes that there is new water that falls on the earth, and...

the Art thing

2010-04-18T01:13:00.002-05:00

Stage 1: You get that antsy feeling in your hands.

Stage 2: You get a vague idea. Or two. Or three. Or ten-thousand-billion-twenty-four.

Stage 3: You get easy distracted.

Stage 4: You feel it.

Stage 5: You see it.

Stage 6: You draw it.

Stage 7: You repeat it.

---

I've been stuck at stage 4 for several months now... and unless I make it to stage 6 by next weekend, I might die. Just saying.

Why Skype is so useful

2010-04-15T10:30:00.002-05:00

Because how else would I know how to find beautiful Russian Women?

The Lilac Evolution

2010-04-09T09:44:00.009-05:00

I love lilacs.

Lilac is what heaven smells like.

(and brownies.)

(not mixed together.)

They only stick around for a very short time during the spring, cause' they're just shy like that. But when they do make their appearance, it's phenomenal. This year, I'm taking a few minutes every other day to check in on my little violet/white friends.

They're blooming along nicely:

I'll keep you posted on their lovelyfantasticalness.

New beginnings

2010-04-05T23:42:00.003-05:00

You can smell rain on the wind. It's like nothing else you will ever smell in the whole world. It's not foul, but it's not quite sweet. It's gentle, but it's not really soft. It's soothing, but in a threatening sort of way.

Storms coming.

When the sky bids his fair, baby blue goodbye, he ties a ribbon around her wrist with which to pull her home. They are never far, the blue and the sky.

Clouds are a diverse lot. They come in special shapes, different sizes, and varied colors; furthermore, they each play out their dramas in their own, unique way. Some will enter from the east, others fancy the west. Some climb the heavens like mighty horses ascending the gates of the firmament, while others are swept, as paint to a canvas, ever gently being brushed into life.

One by one the birds stop singing, the sun pales, and the creatures return to their havens. Only moments ago so feeble, how quickly a breeze grows strong. Before it served only to distract and delight you, now it pulls you and guides you where it will, and you must decide to follow it or fight it, but whatever you conclude, you cannot ignore it.

Water falls from the air... When I was younger I was taught all about water, and nature, and science, and logical things like that. But I have never believed, and probably never will, that rain is anything less than the very tears of God. However foolish it may be, in my heart, I know. The rocks and trees and flowers feel it too. He is weeping. The whole earth is softly singing that song of old "O come together, let us mourn..."

So I grieve with Him as a I walk on the banks of that rushing stream. To me, they are shores of absolution. Cold and astonishing and free. Oh to be free...

Spring clothes itself in rain, because new life is hard. Clean slates are washed by turbulent waters... because it is the things in ruin, which can be restored. Good things come with sacrifice. Things that are not foul, but aren't always sweet. The things we must pass through, if we are to have the strength, to l i v e all over again.

Where do I belong?

2010-03-27T22:57:00.009-05:00

The coffee cost a $1.

I had the dollar but I didn't buy the coffee. Partly, because it was late. Mostly, because it is sweet and bitter and I haven't the energy, nor the will to consider the heart's equivalence. And of all God's varied, lowly creatures, I would have considered it.

We came to hear her play. Once more, the keys sang beautifully for her. She has magic in her hands, and perhaps a fancy in her mind. The polka dot dress was the most elated dress of all...because it knew it would never look finer.

Jazz floated. Jazz floats very well. It's has some of the lightest, carefree notes in the world of song: because if it isn't reckless, it isn't real. It's happy, sad, rich, broke, passive, wild music. The most random, reasonable mess since the very first baffled romance. If it be the sound of flowers, it's a dancing bouquet of red carnations, tiger-lilies, and lavender...bright orange calendula, with an iris deep-in-blue. Sweet Alyssum and all those lovely, humming, golden trumpets.

We went all together. Some of us went alone.

I listened to the curious man play his clarinet and for ten seconds I felt what he was feeling inside. I saw his world of black & white and treble-clef friends and the grand, magnificent room he was trapped inside. He is solitary, suffering and wouldn't ask for any other gift in the world. I saw my brother sitting in his purple, collared shirt that he wears just for her. I prayed for the kind spirit next to me, who does not love herself. I thought sadly of that boy who has no one to teach him to be a man, and even more sorrowfully of a man who cannot hide his contempt for that boy. I worried for the most wonderful woman in the whole world, who has no reasons to laugh but laughs on anyway. I smiled at the man, who was not a drummer, but beat the drums nonetheless, out of charity...what cheerful giver, indeed. I wished I were like him.

But all the way home, that long-hour ride, I sobbed and sobbed.

Because all I have ever learned from life, is to hide.

2010-03-24T04:42:00.000-05:00

Tonight, there was a hole in the air.

It was full of nothing. Just an empty space that lingered over empty faces for a moment, then fell on deaf ears. Inside there were nice words and harsh word and false words and true words and not-one-of-them-means-a-single-thing-words because they won't cause any of us to really believe anything different than what we already know.

Wages are earned, Love is a gift

2010-03-18T09:14:00.002-05:00

And I am grieved by how often the two are confused.

Silent

2010-03-16T23:40:00.003-05:00

I bruise easily.

Not my arms and legs, or feet, or hands but my heart and spirit, will and mind.

Tonight I prayed that I could have the wisdom to see the words that are harmful to others,that they might never again escape my lips. When I review eternity, after my time has been spent, I do not wish it said of me, that I crushed a spirit, broke a heart, twisted a will,or darkened a mind. What a joy it would be to look back and see instead, goodness and mercy. Compassion and love. I prayed that God would give me the strength to remember the stings, and aches, and lonely days when someone said those harmless words that caused more harm than someone ever thought they could. Take those useless wounds and heal them slowly so I have time to put them to use. I asked that He help me to accept the hurt, for others, and not for myself.

I asked to be able to love, without expecting anything in return.

I waited for an hour, and He was silent.

So I will pray on, and believe.

Spring is on the air

2010-03-14T16:26:00.005-05:00

The bird homes are ready

The tips of the trees are aflame

Ready to turn from buds to leaves

The gladiolas are sprouting

The rain is falling

And taking pictures of it is the only thing keeping me sane right now.

Replaced

2010-03-09T23:57:00.000-06:00

Tonight, I am thankful for my mom.

Right now, I really do believe that she is the only human-being I feel sure could never replace me with anyone or anything else in her heart.

I will always love her for that.

Could I just hear your voice

2010-02-24T00:16:00.000-06:00

It's dark these nights. You know what I believe? When the world is dark the things we cannot see shine more brightly. Things like hope & fear and grace & pain. These things are always real, but sometimes they are more easily forgotten. With places to go, things to do, and faces to hide...but not under the moon. At night I am alone; there is no shape or color to comfort me. And now to watch my thoughts unfold...

I learned a trick once. It's a funny thing, really. I learned how to escape. Or at least, I thought I did. You see, people don't cry when their laughing. And so I learned to laugh. Jokes of the most ridiculous nature are band aids of the cheapest kind. I laugh when I am afraid and I laugh when I am restless. I laugh at the sunshine and laugh at the mud. I laugh at words and I laugh at voices..but most of all, I laugh at myself - because that's the greatest pain of all. Covers are prettier than scars, but they cannot heal even the smallest wound. Have you been to the circus? Have you been to the fair..the eyes of the carnival men will teach you, silly clown. People do cry when they're laughing.

My name means peace. My other name means the one who hears. If there is one thing I have learned, they are not always at peace; they who hear. Because amongst the vast, beautiful sounds in life, sometimes we hear too much anger. Too much sorrow. Too many hearts grieving for love. Breaking for forgiveness. Some days those who hear, are deafened to peace.

I think I need a hearing aid.

Valentine

2010-02-14T23:22:00.002-06:00

I've been searching all my days
with an invisible eye
on the back, of my mind,
it's covered by my hair.
But it's never found what
I want
cause
no one knows it's there.

Maybe there's crumbs under the couch
and dust on the chairs
How did my keys end up
with the lions
and the bears?

Did my guitar pick
fall into that drawer?
And, who's feet are those
Lovely feet
on the floor?

Poor Georgie's lost
and sad in the woods
It's very cold and she can't
no, she cant
Find her hood
Please fall low
tracks and bring her home
Cause she's tired of being scared
to death
and feeling alone.

A loan?

Oh that boy
is he walking over here
Or it that just my silly,
silly, silly little fear?
And I'd rather
never, ever
find he
cause I've found everything
but you
so you find me

you find me?

The Reoccuring Epiphany

2010-02-13T18:53:00.002-06:00

Today, I realized once again:

that I am not ok.

Variety

2010-02-06T21:55:00.002-06:00

Do you ever wish life was not so plentiful?

I wish there were only black & white. Because if there were only black & white, I wouldn't scratch my head for hours upon hours trying to find if green, or red, or blue, or purple, or gold, or pink is my favorite color. If only one song was known to the world, I wouldn't spend countless moments singing tunes I cherish, only to have them rudely replaced by a fresh set of notes in my head. If all things were square, I could not prefer curves, only the abandon them for an angle someday. If I had no choice, no variety, no array, I would know what I was, and could never betray, and never lie, and never change, and never wish, and never wonder, and never hope, and never live.

and don't listen to a single silly thing I write, because I love life dearly this way...though it tortures me so.

War

2010-01-29T03:07:00.003-06:00

I am at war with the rodents.

The mice who take up residence in my "office" (*euphemism = warehouse, with desk) made an official declaration of malice yesterday when they invaded my hidden chocolate cache. From my swiveling chair, I looking down in horror at the agonizing results of the massacre. As I surveyed each defenseless piece, laying scattered and butchered: their wrappings torn to shreds at the claws of some merciless little beast, their sweet little nuggets chewed & bitten to an unrecognizable state, left to rot away in the feces of my enemies... I knew, deep down, what must be done.

The funeral was brief and heartrending. May their creamy, confectionery goodness rest in peace.

But oh, how much less do I wish upon their aggressors. Peace, with them, there can never be. Not while the disgrace of my comrades floats through this smokey air, not while the stains of their humiliation still adorn my desk drawer...no!! There is no peace!!! Beware ye malevolent monsters! You have invited my wrath, and my wrath you. shall. see. Tighten your defenses, o scurrying creature of the night! Batten your hatches, prepare your warriors, and call upon the your critter gods , FOR TOMORROW YOU DIE.

Make no mistake about my fury. There will be no more stealthy poison - no sweet & deadly treats which shall slowly lull you into the darkness to die some quiet corner. No, the time for those things has past. I will have your carcasses upon a silver platter. I will view your guilty eyes and bloated, chocolate-filled bellies lying wasted on a cold, concrete warehouse floor, and I will dispose of your bodies in the Cardinal Dumpster of infamy. The voice of my taste buds crying out for revenge, will not be silenced, until your women and children have been driven from my domain, banished forevermore from this rodent-land-of-plenty.

I will do what is necessary. No step you take is safe. There will be traps, bombs, fields of mines, the fatal quicksand of sticky glue traps. Hired assassins, if need be...I will prevail!!!!!

Consider this your final warning - there will be no leniency. Your furry, little, deceptive faces cannot stay my hand. Leave now, or be destroyed.

---

In other news, I bought a new bag of chocolate last night, emptied the contents into a mason jar, screwed on the lid, wrapped the whole jar in tin foil, wrapped the tin-foil covered jar in a towel, placed the tin-foil, towel-covered jar inside a zip-lock bag, placed the zip-lock bag inside of another bag, then rubbed dryer sheets all over that bag and clipped it shut with 30 clothes pins and now I'm pretty sure nobody, (including mice, Napoleon, Alexander the Great, and unfortunately, myself) can disturb my beloved Hersey's Bliss with melt-a-way centers.

idols

2010-01-28T21:09:00.004-06:00

If you serve the wrong god

you will never be able to bear the look of disgust and disappointment in their eyes and you will drain yourself dry, traveling to the edge of despair and back again, until you do not even know who you were really created to be, or what you are really meant to be doing; all you know is that if you cannot make them love you, you will never believe that you are really loved at all, then welcoming the guilt back once again, you will close your eyes and fall flat on your weary, unbeautiful face and cry, oh LORD that I once knew, forgive me, for I have sinned.

i have sinned.

Mazes

2010-01-27T22:59:00.006-06:00

Do you ever see paths?

I see paths. They're everywhere. The paths the cars leave through the snow, the paths the stars make in the sky, the paths the rains make on the window, the paths the blades carve on the ice, the brushes on the canvas, the threads in the sweater, the pattern on the curtains, the frost on the door, the spider with her web, the lines in the sand, the roads through the mountains, the feelings of my heart, thoughts in my mind, the words on this page...

Sometimes I sit and wonder if I traveled every path, ran every course, followed every color in every rainbow, would I find one way was happier than another? Would I choose to go back that way and abandon every other? Would I know where I wanted to be at each precise moment of my journey, or would I even know where I want to be in the end? Could I carry that weight...that burden of destiny? I want to. But the truth is, I don't even know where I could go, or whether to float down the river or find a little stream, or stick with the red, or change to the blue, or follow those tracks, or take this bend, or go up or down, or will it be cloudy or shine, or who will come and who will go, or what color their eyes will be...

Destiny is Yours, and I am happily lost.

Is it bad...

2010-01-25T01:47:00.001-06:00

...that when I draw something, I put a lot of emotion, thought, & effort into it, and I don't like to let it go for a price?

It feels like selling your children so you can afford to make more.

Secrets

2010-01-24T20:13:00.008-06:00

If you knew me at all, you'd know that at least once (or twice) (or 20 times) a day, I find myself dumbfounded and embarrassed and thinking, "I don't know what to say".

Furthermore, if you knew me well, you'd also know that isn't true. I know with all certainty and passion what I want and need to say.

I always tell people I'm not good with words. Well that's a lie. Words and I have been on a better-than-friends basis for quite some time now. I have a deep and unwavering appreciation for them, and they, in turn, have a unprecedented amount of empathy for me. They hold an open invitation to my brain, and they visit often. I understand words.

What I fail at, in epic proportions, is a voice.

If I had a nickle for every time someone who loved me (or someone who didn't) told me to "speak up", I would be rich indeed. I didn't, however, gain any nickles, and I didn't, for the most part, listen either; so I remain poorer all the still.

Someone once told me it got easier with practice. Someone, more honest than that person, told me it didn't. One summer's eve, after inadvertently causing a word-butchering-massacre of the most traumatizing kind (a truly bumbling fiasco of expression), I asked someone older and wiser than I if that awkward feeling ever goes away. I didn't expect a truthful answer. But a truthful answer I received.

It was that day I realized speaking, like everything else in life, is a matter of faith. Our words, are the plants that sprout from our heart's little garden, and if we are brave enough to let the world see them, we run the risk of someone discovering weeds amongst the flowers, and confirming our most earnest of fears: we are not as pretty as we ought to be. We venture to display our weaknesses, and are left to hope. Hope someone will understand that we are not yet able to fully accept who we are, no matter how much we want to. Hope someone will have the grace to let us grow and love and live the best we know how. Then hope with every fiber in our being that we will someday be that someone.

A few have articulated what I often suspect many people think of me. I have been told I am tough, intense, distant... It hurt. Although I know I alone, can be blamed for it. I often wonder how many others I have thought the same things about, who were more like myself than my ugly ego cared to consider. If only we could all take the time to see past social prejudices, perhaps we would discover that the ones who seem cold, are actually lonely, and the ones who are distant, are really afraid, and sometimes the ones who are silent, care the most.

I keep trying. Because the faith inside me tells me I need to, and the hope I keep thinking I've finally lost won't stop showing up in unexpected places. And the love...well the love is the reason for everything. But a poor tryer I often prove to be, so I plead humanity and beg patience I don't deserve; bidding everyone I've ever stared at silently with a face of tears, or stone, or confusion know that I'm sorry and I love you and hurt with you and laugh with you and want more than anything to share life with you and someday I will find the strength to be a friend again and open this heart and mouth and trust and give and say and say and say...

---

"Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words. A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away." - George Elliot

If the sun doesn't shine

2010-01-23T23:21:00.006-06:00

I think this weather is driving me to drink.

The sun's been hiding in fog and rain for more than a week now. Mud has gotten deep. I tried to walk outside and find which tiny water droplet I like best so I could see the light dance and play in it's midst, but I got stuck in the earth and never found it. It made me kinda sad, but it's still out there somewhere. And tomorrow it may be on it's way to the river, then go on glorious travels to warmer places, and I will enjoy those wanderings vicariously. I've thought a lot about gray. Gray like the hairs on the elderly head, or gray like the hairs on the head of the young, who just didn't sleep well enough last night. Gray like wisdom and gray like pain. Gray is not black, and gray in not white. Then again, neither is red. But were the fog red, surely it would be less forgiving.

Red is the color of wine.

That pretty glass of wine...

I'll tell you how the sun rose

2010-01-02T03:36:00.004-06:00

I hear the rain. Steady and softly does it fall. A cloudy sky which never seems far from the last step I've taken. My footprints fill; such tiny lakes, disturbed by such tiny droplets - a tiny matter in the grand scheme wrought before the ages. Past the hills and over the river the sun is allotting his glories in a golden cascade. I see him not, but bid the sparrows whistle to him my name. He is with me, if even from a distance.

A ribbon at a time.

Better fly

2009-12-31T22:52:00.002-06:00

"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Maker calls a butterfly."

Plea II

2009-12-31T15:09:00.002-06:00

When none but Thee
Can interpose
The depths of despair
And my own soul;
When tears in Thy bottle
Overflow, abound
Veiled in grace
Let faith be found.

Frightened by foes
My heart’s concern
To the light of Thy face,
Let me turn.
For daily this darkness
Would me to impair
But the shadow of death
Dwelleth not there.

If my feet too heavy,
Or the mire too dense
For a spirit broken,
Lord, carry me thence.
If I am found wanting,
Despised or alone
Jesus, my Jesus
Thy mercy be shown.

And I shall give ye rest

2009-12-30T04:33:00.001-06:00

The Good Book lay at the foot of her bed. It's worn and tattered pages house memories of her childhood. Nay, the childhood of her soul. It was in the company of those words that she came to the Father, laughing or weeping as children often do. Now, the silver crowns her brow, and her wrinkled hands lie quietly at her side. She is among the wise and the beautiful. Many days have passed before her eyes and many faces has crossed her path, she does not remember them all. Stories has intertwined and places have been blurred by the blunt edge of time. There is one Voice she knows. He is speaking to her, gently now. Though the valley and out of the shadow..."Carry me," she whispers. Out her window the rain is falling, clouds softening the sharp, bright sky. He weeps with her. She is not frightened. The words follow her every thought. All who are weary. All who are weary.

She's going home.

Au revoir

2009-11-29T11:01:00.001-06:00

It's been years now since he left me. Quietly and softly he tiptoed away, down the hallway, over the dirty carpets we soiled with our angry feet. Although he left gently, I knew he was going. But I never thought to say goodbye. I suppose I always assumed he would come home one day. Or perhaps the pain of losing him was so gradual; such an unhurried bereavement - it was too dull to concern me. Now I lie in bed dreaming of your smiles; the way it felt to laugh.

You had a kinder way back then. I suppose I had it too. Now there's the thing I wonder...

...do I miss me, or you?

For a friend:

2009-11-17T04:29:00.002-06:00

Dear friend,

I ask a lot of questions too. I ask them with the same tears and trembling and rage that each soul must bring its own before the throne of God. And often times I do not hear answers. Often there is only silence and that dreadful empty feeling.

But there are also times when I know. I know I do not get answers because I am avoiding the only question that I truly want to ask.

“Are we loved?”

I avoid it because I don't want to know the answer. I can't accept the answer. I will make any excuse to run from the answer. Because if I am loved, than I must learn to forgive and love. Even myself. And that is the hardest lesson that none of us have ever truly learned yet. So we convince ourselves that we are not loved, and could never be loved, and we miss all of the beauty there really is in life.

But the answer is yes, anf yes. We are loved. Oh dear God if there is never another sunrise, or tiny sparrow, or simple, kind word, we are loved.

Love is hard. It’s terrible and full of sorrow and pain and heartache and loneliness and a beautiful beautiful beautiful mess. It is not easy. Love is outrageous and alarming and a bloodied, broken, lonely man, without a brother or a friend, hanging on a tree with not even one soul to comfort Him. It’s beaten, battered, unattractive and wonderful. It’s heartbreak and full of healing and real.

But we have to accept it. We must allow the ever steady hand of God, to pry our stubborn fingers open, and let go of all the suffering and hatred and bitterness. We have to let Him steal our hearts and bind up our wounds. We have to learn to let go of the fears and trust it.

He loves us. He has it written with dreams across the skies, painted with joy on the fields, falling with sorrow in the rain. The grief and anguish do not deny His love…they are the teachers of it.

He really is near to the lowly. My heart bears witness. The helpless really do have hope.

I pray for you each day. I hope you understand why I sent this. I know that faith is between God & each individual, and I can't change your heart or mind & nor would I want to. And I will always love you no matter what course in life you choose. You are beautiful and gifted and have so much ahead of you. I hope nothing but the best for you.

What I want, is for you to know that nothing is impossible. We all go through changes, but God does not. There is always hope. You cannot drift too far from the shores of heaven...God is always able to blow the wind and return you to port.

With a humble hope,
Love,
Olivia

2009-11-01T12:01:00.002-06:00

So many little crisis.

Life is such a big, beautiful mess. Sometimes I think things like locking your keys inside your car at the gas station happen so that you can be five and a half hours late for work and have time to stand out in the pouring rain without your coat (also in the locked car) contemplating your utter dependency upon things and people who are not you.

I guess sometimes we need that. I need that. Those moments when I remember that I am in control of a pretty small portion of life, and even that pretty small portion gets out of my hands quite easily; and with shocking frequency.

So perhaps there is Reason somewhere in the madness. Reason that is willing to trade a little bit of despair, and a whole lot of frustration, for a moment of truth. Even if its truth in the form of a shivering, wet person with a runny nose asking a perfect stranger if she can borrow their phone.

Or maybe the greater moment of truth, was when a perfect stranger answered kindly and said yes.

I suppose I did need that, even if I didn’t see it at the time. Maybe it was to prepare me for bigger changes that are coming swiftly and suddenly, yet again.

I have a friend who is afraid. Things happen, and people get afraid. I hurt for them. I know things will go as they will go, and circumstances will work out. But that doesn’t make disappointment, or unwelcome surprises any easier to handle. Ultimate certainty is not always the cure for momentary concern.

I wish I could help them. I wish with all of my heart I could. But I’m just a girl in the rain without a pair of keys…and I cannot make the world turn, or the sun rise.

It brings a bit of despair and whole lot of frustration.

And it all happens for a Reason.

Blue

2009-11-01T02:08:00.000-06:00

I’ve been told, to thine self be true

In fields of marigold, by chicory blue

The sky above, no hoops jumped through

To fly and love, I want, too.

But yellow screams, on brisk winds flew,

Lions and fire and big, bright truth:

It might be me

But they don’t like you.

Hiccups

2009-10-29T21:42:00.001-05:00

I have hiccups.

Not the occasional, irksome hiccups like I've had in the past. These are persistent, all-night-long, violent, convulsing hiccups. For around 8 hours straight last night my whole body was shaken by quick seizures in a painstakingly consistent rhythm. I lay there pondering the ridiculousness of my plight and wishing for nothing more than a few hours of lovely, healthy, uninterrupted sleep.

On the bright side, I have now tried around 100 psychotic remedies for the hiccups, and can assure you that none of them work. So save your time.

(You're welcome.)

2009-10-26T01:15:00.008-05:00

When one resolves to act like "who one really is", it seems that is precisely the moment "who you are not" decides to rear it's little head. As if some grand force causes the exact thing driving you to the edge to find you with special vigor and suddenly you're wondering if there's any reason to believe at all. You stand there, opposite the full extent of everything you can't accept, and experience the final degree of humility.

We really can't change on our own.

Songs, memories, stories, pictures and words are flying through my head at one hundred miles per hour. They comfort and break me, at the same time. To think so many have felt these same things, and endured this same pain in one form or another; their expressions reassure and terrify me. How alarming....to be human.

Sometimes I hear a friend talking to her father. I hear her laughing. And I can't believe...

I can't believe that I would keep you from flying.

Why would you tell me? I already know. But why would you say it? To hear the one who taught you the weight of words, use them to shame and disgrace you. What does it mean when you can't see past someone else's eyes? Am I weak because I can't let you go? Have I been mistaken in thinking some things are worth suffering for? In being convinced that the efforts, no matter how small they may seem, change something? Am I wrong in asking the very question on my mind this moment?

I wonder if I will ever get past that Saturday morning.

Mom held me for a while. She knows the sorrow. She told me she was sorry. Sorry for exactly what, I was too afraid to ask her.

I've realized that I thought I'd be beyond this by now. Somehow in my youth I imagined that by this day, I would have found home. I would have let go and moved on. Now it seems silly to have set myself up for that. I'm still here. Still looking for my place. That place where you KNOW. Know without a moment of doubt.

I cry a lot. Something inside me tells me that's a bad thing. Something else says it's ok. I don't have the answer, but cry I do, so I guess it doesn't matter much anyway.

Sister said she was looking forward to coming home that weekend. I wondered as I stood there with my face buried in my mother's chest, sobbing uncontrollably like a child, and whispering what words I could, what she was looking forward to now. It stings more than a little.

The man I miss most, re-broke my heart this weekend.

We heal don't we? Our scars eventually go drifting in that wide ocean and fade, fade, fade, until they are seen no more. I must be true. It must be. God help me.

it must.

2009-10-23T22:28:00.003-05:00

I like to run. Or more accurately, perhaps , I like to have ran. No, I take that back. I think "like" is the wrong work. I mean, word.

Can I start over? Thank you.

Running is an introspective experience. It creates far too many real-life-parallels to escape some real truth. I find out a lot about who I really am and what kind of stuff I'm made of when I'm a mile (or two, or three) away from home with no reason to keep doing what I am doing other than somehow I know I should and it'll be good for me in the end. It's interesting to figure out how far your two feet will carry you without any 20th century invention to look to for relief. It's scary to see just how easy it is to give up. The incredible part is that somehow I never do...because it hurts, but that's ok.

I feel better when I run. It provides a sense of accomplishment and in some odd way makes me feel like I'm strong enough. Not strong in the physical sense of the word, but on a deeper level. A gutsy level. The anything's possible level. A spiritual level? Does God speak through an evening jog? I don't see why not. I hear Him in pretty much ever other aspect of my life that I love. And sometimes, mostly in the aspects I don't love so much.

In any case I ran tonight. The sun was going down and the temperature was cold and there was rain and clouds and mud and wind and by the time I got to that final hill the reality of it all was too vibrant for me to ignore and I felt tears falling with the rain and I closed my eyes and asked You one more time for strength

and I finished safely home.

Beginnings

2009-10-22T02:18:00.003-05:00

I have worked with Val for almost three years now, and she has become my friend. It's good to have a friend. I've lost many throughout my short life, thus far. One of the hardest things I've ever learned about people is that you can never trust them, but you have to anyway because that, to a large extent, is what makes us people.

So many have let me down, and I feel positive I have disappointed more than a few. Relationships are a frighteningly powerful thing and more than a little difficult to lose. I have had to let go of a sea of hearts and families and faces and sometimes I close my eyes and wish with every burning fiber within me that things didn't have to change. So many names still echo in the hallways of my mind. Some are still buried deep inside and seem to be tugging on strings like children; stubborn and sweet and full of folly and fear.

Val and I don't see eye to eye on some of things. Other things we agree in whole. But she is a good soul and a sweet heart and I love her. She always has a smile and a kind word, or a laugh. The world needs more like her.

She married Greg six months ago at the Jewel box in Forrest Park. She was a lovely bride. Greg's a lucky guy. I've decided I like him too. He's thoughtful and sometimes funny. And the best part is they are perfect for one another...which gives me hope.

Today Val found out she & Greg are bringing new life into the world.

It was a ray of sunshine on a rainy day...I still haven't stopped smiling.

H2 oh!

2009-08-24T14:10:00.005-05:00

Grace, like water:

Makes us who we are

Makes us what we want

Sends us where we go

Grace, like water

Changes with the day;

Falls from the skies

Upward flies

Always stays the same.

Rushing rivers

Tides to stem

Grace like water:

Swim.

I went a-wanderin

2009-08-10T10:11:00.018-05:00

At the corner of Georgia & 3rd, in a little town by the river, there's a restaurant where my sister plays the keys. In the summertime, on any given Friday night, you can catch her there between 5-9 - gently telling the world she's alive.

I needed a place to go and an excuse to hide away for a while; a little time. Children need time. So I went.

The restaurant was hot; I wasn't hungry. Perhaps I'd go a-drifting...

Meandering can teach you a lot of things. Like where you'll go when you have nowhere to be, and who'll you'll see when you aren't looking for anyone. I wondered how many diseases I'd get if I went barefoot. I wondered why I had to think like that. Behind the bank were flowers unknown to me. They stood straight, tall, delicate and strong. Out of their tiny white blossoms came long, pink needles shooting out towards the world. I asked them why. They told me to give what I have.

Down by the tracks a man sat alone on a bench with his head in his hands. I wondered who had left him. People and things can travel though our lives so quickly. A stop here, a stop there, the whistle blows and the train is over the hill. We are left to wonder if we missed it, or if we were hit by it. Vashti Bunyan started playing in my head..."My mind traveling north to find you..."

Before I could sing along a man in a beat-up Ford truck smiled and gave me a peace sign. I wondered if he was really at peace, or was just happy to see someone wearing a 30-some-year old pair of worn out Aviators. I smiled back and put my fist in the air. Either way I agreed with him.

I thought about the men in their cars who revved the engine the exact same way in the exact same place all night long, to let you know they've really got something and wished they'd switch the gears in their heads instead. I thought about the couple going to the dinner party in matching outfits and knew they were quite different inside. I told myself staring is rude, then asked myself what could be more natural than for two faces to seek each other out amongst all the other things on earth. I watched two little girls in the whitest dresses I'd ever seen and hoped they knew how beautiful they were. I thought about the mural with the man who had the guts to do something extraordinary for what he believed in, and even though I didn't know if I agreed with what he did I hoped I'd have been brave enough to do the same. I thought about all the places I was not at right now. I thought about forgiveness.

A pair of opposite pigeons perched building-top were loudly conversing in their own pigeon way. I thought about two other pigeons I knew. They are also opposites...and sometimes very loud.

I found the places in town you don't want to go alone. A suspicious young man slipped into a garage and came out carrying a bag. I walked faster for a moment until I came to the shadow of the library, where I, perhaps naively, feel nothing could ever harm me. The red door beckoned me. The lock forbade me. I promised the inhabitants, next time.

I thought about a lot that night.

But most of all, I thought about that door, and where it could lead.

Who?

2009-05-29T10:54:00.003-05:00

The sky is too blue today.

I ran into happiness. It occurred to me I didn't know he had left at all.

Me an' Ophelia

2009-05-28T04:13:00.001-05:00

"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore,

To one thing constant never.

Then sigh not so, But let them go,

And be you blith and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo

Of dumps so dull and heavy;

The fraud of men was ever so,

Since summer first was leavy.

Then sigh not so, But let them go,

And be you blith and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny. "

Dear Wil...

Songs

2009-05-26T09:45:00.010-05:00

I've written a fair share of songs in my little life span.

Well, perhaps written is the wrong term (semantically speaking) since the majority never actually made it out of my head and onto paper. Ok, (as long as we're going semantically) songs might also be the wrong term; since most of them consisted of phrasing such as, "Here I am...by myself...walking down to the barn, to feed the little horseys...alone...with grain in a bucket...ect...ect.. ooh baby ...etc..."

Quite honestly, I'm also pretty sure 90% of them never included any particular melody or structure.

It's also slightly possible they didn't even feature any notes or chords generally acknowledged as "music" up to this point in history.

I guess I should also mention, I normally forget them around 5 minutes after they've been sung. Which, combined with the afore mentioned factors, probably means they were the most abysmal, arbitrary sounds every conceived by mankind, and you should be exceedingly grateful you were not around at their creation.

But there are a few that are still with me.

One about a woman named mom,
One about man named Jesus
And one about the boy who broke a stupid, stupid heart.

My head has been ringing all weekend with the wrong one.

Notes

2009-04-14T21:08:00.000-05:00

Buried inside the "Olivia's treasure's box" are the following notes from Conrad, my youngest brother:

I don't really remember what they heck they are all about, but I love them more than anything.

Terrible news this morning

2009-03-06T09:46:00.005-06:00

Some things change you when they happen.

Some things make you realize you cannot go through life alone.

2009-02-26T02:23:00.006-06:00

there was no time
to linger on
the clouds they were there
have now moved on
and sun fell deeper
in my heart he’s the keeper
of a hope I never thought I’d own

but when I think the colors in the sky
came from your imagination to my eye
the thought struck a chord
with a hurt I can’t afford and
every single moment
I tossed out
of sync with stars and the
trees I doubt
would agree
over him, with me
so say you’ll stay
with a girl.
say you'll stay

with this girl.

2009-02-25T17:53:00.003-06:00

Well they've done it. They went and bought more chickens on me again. Leave those entrepreneurial farm kids alone for two seconds and before you know it you're smack dab in the middle of a bonified critter's habitation.

I dislike the birds you know. When my parents first decided to pick up our modest belongings and move us all to the remote-hillbilly-counry-side, I experienced what you may call, a few slight, culture changes. Chickens, being one the foremost. Somebody got the idea into their head that it would be: "Fun, and productive", to raise chickens. Well holy-redneck-spatoli I had no idea what kind of chaos such innocent thoughts could wreak.

See, at first you think, "Awww, cute! little fuzzy yellow chicks!" And they go "peep peep" and look up at you with those sweet little eyes, and make you go all mushy and open your heart to love them. Then, before you know it, reality hits and you're amongst the mites, cleaning out a dusty, poop-infested chicken coop while trying to stave off about 40 insane birds with claws who are trying to kill you. Then, just to thank you for cleaning their nauseating house, you are kindly awakened at 2 am by some stark-raving-mad rooster making the most gawd-awful crowing noises you've ever heard. You know those people from Old MacDonald who like to pretend it's all: "Cock-a-doodle-doo" here and "Cock-a-doodle-do" there? Well the part they left out of the song is that it actually sounds more like a hawk getting hit by a semi, and they are about as reliable of an alarm clock as a hibernating gopher. I guess it didn't fit with the melody.

Sometime down the road you inevitably discover that if you don't clip the wings of these fabulous animals, those trusty old chickens will fly, fly away. Yes! It's facinating. You walk outside one bright morning and find 20 chickens at the top of 30 ft. trees with splattered eggs all over the ground. Then your mom is asking you outlandish things, like: "You think you can shoot 'em down without actually killing them?" Eh??? Next thing you know, she's shoving some kind of gun at you, telling you to "Aim for the white's of their eyes!!!", and you're left wondering wheather or not pigs have actually gone and learned to fly.
.

There are a few Gallus, Gallus species that are actually quite personable birds. Some even have a special affinity for the most desirable habit of perching atop your head. Which is really quite wonderful, because there's nothing quite like having little chicken-claw-shaped puncture wounds on your scalp, and bird droppings actually make fantastic conditioner.

The last batch of chickens that came along lasted a few years, and we have been completely fowl-less for almost 5, perhaps 6 years. Now, a new batch has arrived. I have decided to put aside my prejudices and give these birds a fresh start; a clean slate upon which to inscribe their own legacies. Here's to hoping they fair better in my judgment than their predecessors.

I'll keep you posted.

Because He does

2009-02-16T13:51:00.000-06:00

the stupid poem

2009-01-27T22:48:00.000-06:00

I used to have a Teddy Bear

Who held me strong and tight

I knew me an’ Teddy bear

Would be as one for life

But soon he left me lonely

Taking with him all my love

And now I know that Teddy Bears

Are only full of fluff.

Dear God

2009-01-21T13:52:00.001-06:00

I do not know when You first knew me. I believe it was before the worlds were established, before the stars were made, or before the light appeared. Perhaps sometime, or perhaps before time, or maybe You have always known. But I began in You. Your imagination, Your thoughts, Your artistry formed my life. You carefully designed my every feature, character, movement and word. You knew each thought and emotion, every desire and fear, even this moment- this letter, You knew.

As an artist You are flawless in Your work. And whatever I may be, I am meant to be it, purposely and undeniably.

You are a remarkable person.

You know.

Men believe they can know. And there are times You permit them a glimpse of things unseen. But they can only know what you designed them to know, and not one vision more. I have looked to many people to understand. Not one have I found who has not let me down. Please forgive me my delay, I'm writing to ask You now.

Why?

Why do I feel things one thousand times more deeply than I know them? Why do I cry when I hear those sounds? Why does my heart fly over hills and fields searching for the perfect color to paint my day? Why are the unseen things more real to me than the things I touch and see? Why do I stammer and cry when I meant to speak? What did that mean, what the man said in my dream? Why am I lost when I am at home? Why does the autumn sunset sound like strings, resounding throughout all of space and time? Why can't I help them?

And,

Why
wHy
whY

Why don't I care to know.

Love,
Olivia

2009-01-03T14:22:00.000-06:00

The mighty Mississippi got in my heart one day, and now it's home for good. Gosh darnit if I know why. I walk it's hills and sketch it's trees and feel the water ripple through my soul. Sometimes I get a notion. It's silly, really, because no one knows what the future brings. Still, somewhere deep down I gotta feeling.

I'll follow you, big river, when you call.

I have a little bamboo plant

2008-12-19T02:08:00.002-06:00

Nothing will it bear,
but a spot of green in winter,
and what could be more fair?

Christina

2008-10-30T22:14:00.005-05:00

She's gone away to school to find new roads, new hopes, and to give her song to new ears.

The piano misses her already.

But I have a feeling I miss her even more.

Inept

2008-10-08T09:53:00.005-05:00

No one likes how it feels to be aware of their own helplessness. I try to move on. But I wake up with the same words burning in my mind, the same feelings pulling at my heart, and the same memories returning to haunt me...God I know I'm there. I have no cure for this pain. I don't know what to do. I've no power to wash away these stains. Please, just take it all away.

I walked out on the ledge because I trusted you. It was stupid. I was stupid. It was so obvious you would leave me hanging. Such a fragile lie. It's staggering how easily I can be deceived. Flatter my dented ego, whisper the missing words, befriend the friendless places...and all I had was yours. I let you take away the all the hidden hurt and shame from all the times I wanted just one kind word and just one real hug and just someone who thought I was wonderful for just being who I am and just another soul willing to learn and grow and laugh and cry and sit on the bench at the park and say it's all going to be ok I promise, but no one was there and instead I sat alone in my room and hugged my pillow and tried to stop the tears. It all seemed so perfect. Perfect and lovely and simple and all too good to have been true. But I believed it. I wanted it. For me and for you. I thought it worth the while. Hope is a tiny flame that keeps everything feeling warm.

But I wasn't enough for you. I don't know why. I never know why.

And I just feel cold.

Insensitive Paradox

2008-09-14T03:14:00.003-05:00

I spend many hours lamenting loneliness. Yet from all those memories, my only wish...

...is to be left alone?

2008-08-21T14:15:00.001-05:00

To love, and do nothing, may cause the heart it's greatest pain.

Plea

2008-08-05T23:09:00.007-05:00

Thou Jesus know this stormy sea,
The waves thy hand control;
When I must walk through darkest gale,
Thou Jesus keep my soul.

When I with shame and sorrow filled,
Fall upon weary knee;
When all forsaken, O mine God
Be Thou not far from me.

Were I to walk this stoney path,
Without thy simple grace,
In grief and bitterness I die,
If thou Lord hide thy face.

This heart alone, much despised,
With ache and pain full;
I must walk this thorny road,
O Jesus, keep my soul!

The Exaltation of Christ

2008-07-22T19:36:00.002-05:00

"Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name which above every name; that at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."

---

What sweet comforts reside in the veneration of Christ! This, the chief goal of our lives, the highest purpose, the sole worthy ambition; to lift His name higher than any other, and watch His glory rise as the sun, filling the skies with rays of pure light. Rejoicing in His renown: contenting ourselves in His sufficiency. In times of trial, when the spirit is tossed to and fro, amongst the fiercest of gales, the heart will surely turn itself to the place it calls home. For the child of God, Christ is this sanctuary. We abide within the Son of Man, where the primary end of our existence rests utterly in bringing honor to the worthy name of Jesus. He is our very explanation. In Him we find purpose and reason. All else be scorned, if the Lord of Hosts be magnified, if His kingdom be secure.

Surely He, Himself is our older brother, the Firstborn amongst the saints. Do you not remember we ran away? We were lost, guilty, and too ashamed to come home. Was it not Jesus who sought us out? Was it not He who took us by our trembling hand and brought us back to our Father? He who pleaded on our behalf and humbled Himself for our forgiveness? Who fought for our dignity? Who reclaimed for us an inheritance and name? None other than He. None but the coldest heart could not love and esteem such a brother. Yet there is a friend who sticks even closer than a brother. Have we a better friend than Jesus? Who is an ever present help in trouble? Who will never slander nor flatter you? Never deceive nor abuse you? Yes, His love is that of a steadfast and faithful companion! For those who have known the sorrow of losing a friend there lies unfathomable peace in the promise, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." Closer than our next breath, Christ is with us. And when our breathing shall cease, Christ will be the friend who gently leads us through the valley of death, and lays us down in green pastures.

Jesus! My leader; my champion; my hero; my God.

Look into the deepest part of your soul and confess that you do not wish Him grandeur and fame. You cannot, if you be of righteousness. You will desire His adoration, if you know Him at all. If your heart has been opened to the man Christ Jesus, then you will feel the same streams of water stir up inside your spirit and everything within you will cry, "O Lord of Hosts, bend the knees of men!" Surrender me to the Lamb in the midst of the throne, at the very center of creation, the pinnacle of space and time. Make His ways, my ways; His word, my word.

With the teachers of old, my spirit affirms:

"I care not what happens, so long as it is written, the LORD reigneth."

2008-02-10T20:55:00.002-06:00

Music loves her

And the fairies do too

I know because I've seen them

In her dancing hands

She's got happy

She's got blue

She's a doo-wop an' bop

Now she's got you

I've never seen the angels

Wink so much before

Or move so blithely

As they do when she plays

I wonder if someday

I'll see what she sees

When the sun goes down

And songs fill the sky

She's made you laugh

Before you know it

And all around the world

They'll never know it

I've got blue now

But happy I'll me

'Cause doo-wop an' bop

She sure got me.

Hope

2008-01-03T19:58:00.000-06:00

When this world began, ages ago, God, out of the depths of His imagination and wisdom, reached forth and wrought mankind. In all fullness He created him: body, spirit, and soul, bestowing on him a blessed nature of goodness. Yet even in the abundant state of man, claiming all things beautiful in the world, and possessing the inestimable friendship of God, something unsatisfactory lingered. For God, seeing all the greatness of His work, observed the heart of man. "It is not good for man to be alone."

I have often wondered how it could be truthfully said that man was alone. Had he not the very companionship of God? Was his soul not free from and hindrance, or shame, perfectly able to enjoy the presence of His Creator? Did he not have a perfect world with hills and sunshine, waters and skies, and birds and beasts to join with him in testifying of the extraordinary love of his Lord? did he not possess all these things and more? Yet there is no doubt to his loneliness. It was not he who proclaimed him lack, but his Creator.

As time has passes, I no longer question humanity's seemingly illogical need. I no longer question his desire for someone more. For I find that hope firmly installed inside of myself. Like father, like daughter, I understand the heart of my ancestor.

Because I too have the hills and sunshine and the most precious love of God.

And I too, am alone.