searching for rivendell

even the rocks cry out!

2011-12-24T21:40:00.000-08:00

REJOICE! salvation is near. Rejoice! for you have been given the oil of gladness. Rejoice! for the light will overcome the darkness. JOY! for the sackcloth has been torn. Joy! for the Heavens cry out with song. SING! for good news has been proclaimed to the poor. Sing! for freedom has come to the captives. SHOUT! redemption draws near! Shout! you have been given a garment of praise. Sing! for what was devastated will be rebuilt. SING! you have been clothed in righteousness. Joy! for your head has been lifted of shame. JOY! for you have been made clean. Rejoice! There is no need for despair. Rejoice! you have been crowned with beauty. REJOICE! for eternity is written on your heart and HE has come that you might know him!

"these things i have spoken to you that in me you might find peace. in this world you will have trouble. BUT be of good cheer! for I have overcome the world." ~

isaiah 64
ecclesiastes 3
john 16

sweet home.

2011-12-18T10:54:00.000-08:00

We are so grateful for our time here and for being here in the big city. We know we are supposed to be here. And we have great friends. A sweet church. A cozy home. And we are really enjoying ourselves. In the same breath, it's a particularly nostalgic and illuminating time of year remembering all we left behind at home in the far away land of Texas. Five months is not that long of a time to be away but as families begin to come together, I am longing for certain familiar things or even simple luxuries we no longer have living in this faraway city.

I miss real Tex Mex. The kind I ate almost every single day because it was part of the culture of Austin.

I miss having a washer and dryer in our place. It is a wonderful wonderful thing, let me tell you. We do have a laundromat not too far away, but to have it right under your finger tips? Please, enjoy yours for me.

Speaking of luxuries, I miss the wonderful and spectacular invention called... the dishwasher! Seriously.

I miss space. Wide open space that declares freedom. And the sky. I miss the sky.

I miss the warmth and friendliness that is part of the Texas culture, though not always genuine, still it is reflective of kindness, the kindness that comes as fruit of a grateful and loving heart.

I miss my nieces coming to the office with the excitement and joy and wonder only they could bring in. They were always in awe of the space and thought that my office was the only place in the world that offered Starfall.

I miss my nieces. I miss snuggling them into me, my nose resting on their heads, praying for God's safety and protection over them, promising to do all I could to keep them safe.

I miss my family, sister and brother. my parents. I have the best parents, really.

I miss their dogs!

I miss our dear dear friends, whose lives and love poured into both of us and has shaped us by His love and grace.

I miss our sweet church.

We have been given much here. We have a fellowship of great friends and people who love the Lord. We get to do all of our own dishes. And, Texas, you are etched in the wrinkles of my smile and the soles of my boots (hiking boots, actually).

to know joy

2011-12-10T04:27:00.000-08:00

Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he does not count his joys. If he counted them up as he ought to, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it. ~Fyodor Dostoevsky

When I was 18, I betrayed a friend. I started dating her boyfriend (it was terrible of me and don't ever do it, btw). I then dumped him a couple of weeks later to find that he had gone straight back to her. And it went back and forth like this for a while. I was devastated and broken, depressed, and upset with myself for the rest of the year. One day, I was sitting on a trampoline enjoying time with my favorite 9 year old when she started singing this song, "I choose to be happy." And her words, those simple words, changed me. It started an upward climb as for the first time in my short years I realized Happiness is a choice. Just a choice. Not something that happens to you but something decided.

I would like to say that the years that followed were all filled with the choice to be happy, but I would be lying. I chose to wallow in sorrow and self pity a couple of times. A couple of years. I had emotional baggage as we ALL do. I experienced life, as we all do, with all of its ups and downs. Sometimes the downs were traumatic. Sometimes in the trauma I chose to avoid dealing with it.

One time though, after being broken up with, I chose joy. I chose to look at my "terrible" circumstance and praise God for all the good things he has done in my life. I praised Him. I stopped looking at my sorrow and loss, and looked to my God. Someone told me for the first time in my life, "You are glowing". Someone who I looked up to and didn't know my circumstance. I faced my problem, wept, and chose joy.

I've quoted this before; as Abraham Lincoln said, "Most folks are as happy as they make their minds up to be." It's really true. I would also add that joy is something deeper than just happiness. Happiness only skims the surface of what joy is. Joy is looking in the face of tragedy and saying, I rejoice. And again I say, rejoice. I know what comes my way, whatever my lot, I have reason to be full of JOY. I will say, when I lost my friend last year, it was tragic. I was devastated. I've had other losses that brought sorrow, too. There is nothing wrong with experiencing sorrow, entering into sadness. But when it turns, and you'll probably know exactly when that is as I did, when it turns into bitterness and self-pity, when you can no longer see hope, then it is no longer good.

In those moments of sorrow and loss, I have had to look on to hope, on to the joy in my life, on to remembering all there is to be thankful for, all there is to rejoice in. For in those moments, hoping and rejoicing have brought me peace. They have reminded me that though sorrow and loss happen, I have a choice. I can wallow in them and be discontent and un-comforted, or I can look at them and say, there have been so many blessings, there is much to enrich my life with, and there is so much to hope in.

As a Christian, I have a great hope, a great joy in knowing Christ and trusting him and his promises. One such promise of the Lord's is from the Old Testament, "I will never leave you or forsake you." It is a promise I hold true. Another is of his love for his children. Shakespeare captured love beautifully when he said , "Love is not love which alters when it alterations find or bends with the remover to remove. Oh, no. It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken." (Sonnet 116)

He loves his children that much.

"Whatever my lot thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul." ~Horatio Spafford (whose story and life were wrought with sorrow and inspired the hymn quoted)

"O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of every love the best!
’Tis an ocean full of blessing, ’tis a haven giving rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, ’tis a heaven of heavens to me;
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!"

~Samuel Trevor Francis

How wide and long and high and deep is the love of Jesus Christ.

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed the sack cloth and clothed me with JOY.

2011-10-05T10:43:00.000-07:00

notes from the big city:

-bright, sunny walks in the city after eight days of the flu are eye opening and life giving

-children and babies on the bus or public transportation make me smile.

-narcissists on public transportation make me want to scream, "the world's axis does not rotate just around you!"

-breathing is under-rated.

-on a walk the other day i passed by a Guatemalan/Salvadoran/Mexican restaurant, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Pakistani, Burmese, Afghan, Israeli, Turkish, Indian, Italian, Brazilian, Russian, Irish, American eateries (and many more nationalities). hello world in my city.

- I passed by a Rabbi today and it no longer felt like a strange thing. Rather, a daily occurrence.

- i plan on taking up letter writing. it is a lost art.

-can't wait to purchase rain boots. a thousand years ago, i wore them when no one else did. it was a sight that received many giggles and i loved causing the giggles. now, everyone's wearing them here. bizarre!

-i love our new friends and my new friends. there are some kind, wonderful women in this city that single guys are completely missing out on. i can't wait to have a girl's night. (i do have to say, it was fun to be at the grocery store and run into someone we knew.)

-i love that i got to sit next to a young girl from Trinidad, in this country for 3 years. we had a little chat while watching football. again, we get to meet the world here.

-city life is more communal than what it was at home. i love, love, love that. i'm looking forward to having people in our home.

- i watched a sweet, tiny Korean toddler look with amazement and admiration at her mother. it was profound even though it occurs all over the world daily.

- farmer's markets in every area of town are beautiful. i salivate a little every time i see a wooden crate overflowing with fresh picked apples.

-i've lost 10 pounds since we moved here. i know exactly how, too. city walking.

"Mine eyes do smell an onion."

2011-08-15T15:10:00.000-07:00

Sitting in a cafe sipping iced tea while the rain falls outside and the bosa nova plays inside, i stare at the iron railing wondering what city we have landed in, what season we are truly in with 62 degree temperatures, and why I'm wearing a sweater... in August. You can at least tell that it's a week day; the hustle and bustle abounds in droves as rush hour begins. but here, in here, all seems still. i keep my heritage ingrained in me in the middle of this metropolis while sipping an iced tea though I should be sipping something warm... I can't do it right now. I'm still on the Southern schedule where it doesn't get cool until.. November. Thus the confusion.

iced tea in gray gray weather. At least I'm not alone; an elderly couple just walked by dressed for summer. No one told them we were having a "monsoon" all week long. Am I now part of the collective we? Someday. Ha. The woman who chose the seat next to me bought an iced tea. I guess I'm not that strange after all.

I miss my Italian espresso/ gelato shop just around the corner from the office. Marco knew what I ordered though he never knew if I was in a playful "caramel macchiato" mood or a plain-jane-non-fat-latte mood. He and my husband would speak Italian to each other. I actually miss my bank where Lida and Angela knew me so well, when my sister walked in to sign up for account, they actually said, "You must be M's sister." Just by seeing her face. I miss my nieces, one who recently said that instead of going to her new school, she would come stay with me. When she was told how far we live now, she was not moved. She'll just come to us.

I've noticed how many strangers there are here. A couple sat down next to me speaking Norwegian. Some young Spanish kids came in for a respite from the "monsoon". Many are unknown. They too came here not knowing others. A city full of strangers. (and the girl next to me is so loud. There's no way she is a native metropolitan.)

In time. (concentration is lost by the girl's incredibly loud voice.) We'll make home. Carve out a place. Find a new place where we are known (other than the laundromat where the woman scowls at me while she tries to flirt with my husband. I'll knock her out and then maybe, just maybe,(if she'll finally show me respect) we'll be friends.) {that's a joke. i'm not violent at all. and, yes, she did finally stop glaring at me and smiled. happy day.}

Note to self: buy rain boots, umbrella, and rain parka. And don't talk loudly in cafes. Especially about your personal life.

a little advice to my nieces (when they are old enough to understand this)

2011-06-01T11:42:00.000-07:00

on boys to men...

1. don't throw your heart away, especially too early. you're still changing and growing and boys change too. some of them grow up, some of them don't. (at 16 he may be cute, but at 30 and still living at home while still working at McDonald's... not so much)

2. stay far far away from the one's that don't.

3. waiting for someone is completely worth it. trust me; i know.

4. don't settle just to get married. it's not worth it at all. i've seen too many women attach themselves because they wanted to get married, and not for the right reasons. i've watched too many marriages fall apart for this reason.

5. have high standards but not too high (like, "he must be 6 foot 5 inches." or, "he must have a complete collection of Star Wars Pez Candy Dispensers.") there are some standards that are good to let go of; some, hold fast to them.

on studies and career...

1. study. study. study. there is so much to learn out there and it is a blessing and a privilege to have the opportunity to do it.

2. study what you love. if they tell you in college, "don't study art because you won't be able to make money from it." DO it anyway. study what you love. and finish it.

3. prioritize study and learning; it will be worth it!

4. go to school whether college or trade. there will be courses you don't want to take, but do them and get it over with. who knows. you may find that even though you hated Algebra before, now it's something you adore. (yes, even Algebra can be adored.)

5. choose a career you truly enjoy. find out what makes you tick, what drives you. if you love working with kids, do it! if you love numbers, do it. if you love, making art, do it. you may have to do other jobs for a bit, but do it with joy and keep on doing the work you were made to do. (I can't tell you how many writers worked other day jobs while writing...)

on life

1. as your Nonna used to say, if you're bored, it's your own fault.

2. Abraham Lincoln said it well. "Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be."

3. Kindness is a balm to many an ailment or injury. Be kind, even to those who don't deserve it or those who treat you with contempt. They need it most.

4. Forgive, forgive, forgive and forgive some more. Bitterness is a cancer that will poison and eat at you for the rest of your life.

5. Be kind and forgiving AND don't let yourself become someone's doormat. Stand up when it is important to stand up.

6. Beauty IS from within. Kindness, selflessness, love and mercy in your heart will do wonders for your outward appearance.

Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. Trust Him with all of your heart, in all your ways acknowledge him and He will carry you through.

swim.

2011-05-17T11:13:00.000-07:00

i sat at the edge of the water, frozen (literally and figuratively). we've had a bit of a "cool" snap here even though we've already experienced a month plus of summer like temperatures. and the water, well, it's a bit chilly.

i sat there dumbfounded why i couldn't jump in; i love the water and i love to swim. and i'm used to 68 degree water. i'm fast and i have my strokes down, but everything in me stuck there... pool side. after about 15 minutes of the internal battle (I want to go in, I can't go in, Why can't I just go in?), it hit me what the issue was. i was lonely. my friend who recently passed and her best friend were my pool companions just four years ago. carla was a motivator to get in the water; she always went in first. and she swam hard. the accountability of having them call me up and invite me to swim with them, healed a lot in me; brokenness, body image issues, and a need for friends in my life. there is something about exercising together. it's like a battle, fighting side by side, taking a Clayborne to the lies and the self deprecating soliloquies on beauty and worth.

and there i sat. remembering with nostalgia and mourning the loss of something sweet, something powerful, something right. missing those days. missing carla and her amazing and fighting spirit.

but with that remembrance, i remembered the battle. i remembered the inner battle cry; i am no coward. i am a warrior. And then, I jumped in the chilly water.

you are no coward. YOU are a warrior.

coming to the quiet

2011-04-05T08:12:00.000-07:00

When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. Wendell Berry

it's the time of year, lenten season, where some surrender and give up something particular. it's been quiet around the house even though life is full and much is buzzing around me. but it's quiet because of giving up unnecessary things. and noisy things. i've also tried to make time for being quiet, creating space for the quiet.

we have a work out center near us that is very convenient. but there are televisions everywhere and it looks out on a man made structure and there are machine noises and tv noises and ipod noises and the sound the treadmill makes as my shoes scuff across it. it feels synthetic. it is synthetic.

and then 20 minutes from our place, there is a smallish lake. yes, i am aware that it is a man made lake, but it has created something natural and organic. it is where geese and ducks swim, where deer come to the bank for a drink or to stand by and watch, where fathers bring their children to fish and mothers take them to kayak, where families come to walk together and be together.

i love going there to exercise, to sit, to watch the families of all sizes and nationalities, to feel the breeze off the lake caress my face. i go there to sit and pray and listen to God. to walk and push through worries and fears, to let them go and walk forward trusting Him.

and though nature buzzes above my head and groups of people pass me by, it is quiet and still.

touching on grief...

2011-02-07T14:53:00.000-08:00

"It is hard to have patience with people who say 'There is no death' or 'Death doesn't matter.' There is death. And whatever is matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it and they are irrevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn't matter." C.S. Lewis

Someone recently said something that has stuck with me as I process and mourn the loss of my friend. Death is not natural. Death was not a part of life before the fall; it came after it. Death was not meant for this life. We were not meant for death.

Grief is like a wrestling match. There are times when I feel like I have conquered it, I raise my hands in triumph and grief surprises me and pins me down again. All cultures have many different ways to process grief. We all have different ways of going through it. It's just that it is important to go through the process of grief... and not avoid it. I don't want to scan pictures for her memorial because it means it really happened. But I will.

i miss my friend.

juxtaposition of life and death

2011-02-01T10:08:00.000-08:00

These last few days have been extraordinarily strange as life and death converged and sorrow and celebration dined at the same table. "There is a time for everything under the sun" but this time, the sun rose and set while both weeping and rejoicing mingled together.

My dear dear friend Carla died Sunday. We met 12 years ago as she welcomed me to a new church and opened her life and heart to friendship as well. She led a small group of people who loved each other well and fellowshiped together sharing meals, tears, laughter, prayers and fun. We worshiped together in truest form acknowledging the amazing sovereignty of God and sweet Grace God gave us through Christ. A year after meeting, Carla, Libby, Rema and I all moved in together in a sweet house of fellowship, healing, laughter, and ordinary life all mixed in one.

Carla prayed with power. Carla recognized the authority of Christ and prayed with that authority. I tell you, mountains were moved. More than once, she prayed with me for God's healing in my life from past hurts and past lies I was believing about myself which were not in line with God's view of me. Carla recognized a pain I had carried for years and with her help, we gave it back to Christ's able hands.

Carla went through more on this earth than what any person should. It could crush anyone of us, but God's healing and his love for Carla gave her life. Three years ago, she was diagnosed with cancer. The first round, she was healed. The second round, healing once again. This third round was brutal on her earthly body. She stopped treatment a month ago giving up on man's solutions but never on God's. In His mercy, she was released to go Home, and there is no better place to be.

I miss her. Many of us miss her. She was well loved. But now she has been greeted in Heaven with love and joy and rejoicing. It's funny. I cry every time I think of that. I'm so happy for her! And I grieve this planet's incredible loss. There is Joy that she is alive with Christ. There is sadness that so many will miss out on Carla's testimony of Faith and the love God has shown her.

Sunday she passed. Monday was my birthday. Tuesday we welcomed a new niece.

Celebrating Life with loss lingering in the air is hard and baffling and profound. Immediately it reminded me of the words of a hymn. The most profound sorrow and rejoicing I know of is Christ's death. In His death, there was so much pain and loss, but with it there IS so much gain.

See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.

When I Survey the Wondrous Cross by Isaac Watts (1674-1748)



where o death is your sting?  where o death is your victory?

love must be sincere.

2011-01-07T13:32:00.000-08:00

hate what is evil.

cling to what is good.

outdo one another in showing honor.

rejoice in hope.

show hospitality.

be patient in affliction.

be faithful in prayer.

bless those who persecute you.

rejoice with those who rejoice.

mourn with those who mourn.

live in harmony.

do not be proud.

do not be conceited.

Do not take revenge.

leave room for God’s wrath.

do not be overcome by evil.

overcome evil with good.

i didn't write any of those words. they belong to another. and no, it's not 1 corinthians; it's romans 12, shuffled around a bit. and it's true. to love and really love, to say that you are someone who loves means putting aside your own desires for those of another. it means letting go of anger and showing kindness. it means rejoicing with someone who is happy when you're not so happy. it means laying aside your joy to mourn with someone who is mourning. it means holding fast to goodness. it means no hypocrisy. it means love is not a feeling. it is action.

i cringe every time i hear someone equate love with a feeling. you're selling yourself short. you're cheapening love. and if there is no action behind the word love, it's not love at all.

this is love in action. this is true, sincere love.

ebenezers and milestones

2011-01-06T13:21:00.001-08:00

"Here I raise my ebenezer, Here by Thy great help I've come."
Come Thou Fount by Robert Robinson

The term "ebenezer" is not a common one and usually congers up images of Charles Dicken's character Ebenezer Scrooge and a grumpy, old codger of a man. The truth of the term is beautiful. Ebenezer comes from the Hebrew "Even Haezer" meaning "Stone of Help". In the book of Samuel, Samuel places a stone down in an area where a battle had been won calling it, Ebenezer, and remembers God's help to the Israelites in defeating the Philistines and the reclaiming the Ark of the Covenant. Samuel states, "Thus far the Lord has helped us."

What a remarkable and memorable year 2010 was. I do raise an ebenezer. At a later age than most young women, I was married to a man I am most grateful for, a man I fall in love with more and more. I listened to my husband's prodding and the internal artist God has created me to be and submitted a poem to a contest and won 4th place. I fell ill for a while only to find new healing. With N by my side, we walked 10 miles, something I hadn't been able to do since first becoming sick 3 years ago.

I now look back at the milestones to see how far I've come, how far "we" have come, and I know with certainty, it could not have happened as it has without God's help. I cannot take credit. I start this year, knowing that the past successes,recoveries and joys have come with help. Not just a little help. By HIS good Grace.

oh, to Grace how great a debtor, daily i'm constrained to be...

prepare Him room

2010-12-17T07:27:00.000-08:00

Draped under a purple burlap sky,
We wait, We fast;
We Pray, pregnant with Hope,
Anticipating a longed for Salvation,
For the word made flesh;

And, now, we behold His tiny form,
Bundled incarnate purity,
Swaddled pink humanity;
And his cry rings out
Echoing prophetic the voices of Eternity
And the weight of glory,
Falling on an audience of sheep and goats;

Joy to the World!
The Heavenlies welcome on earth
Whom they bowed to,
Whom they knew as King;
Magnificence unknown to human eye,
Left behind
For the chisel and plane,
For the olive wood,
For the ox and trough,
For smelly, moist, rotting hay.

Behold the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!
Debts erased by his inch long fingers
And a life forfeit;
Again I say, Rejoice, Oh world!
With solemn hearts lifted
In awe of a babe.

copyright Micah McDonald 2010

it happened one sunday.

2010-10-11T09:37:00.000-07:00

well, i challenged myself to submit to a contest even though i didn't have much time to refine (only a few hours to edit four poems); and the first contest i submitted to, a novice poetry contest in canada, i received an honorable mention. i have a lot of work to go, and i need to learn the patience and skill of going back and editing and refining the poem. i still see some things i want to change, but here is the poem that is bringin' home the bacon:

An Exploration of Caritas

She tries the known and unknown tongue,
clashing and clanging;
it sounds like dissonance;
she, standing on the corner soapbox
screaming love,
echoing imperfection.

Knowledge past and future
beats at his soul;
released left and right
the words flow like a torrent,
drowning love,
like an authentic counterfeit.

She cut her hair,
he sold his watch;
they gave it all away
for empty pockets
and bottomless cups;

So she chose the burning building,
and he ran in to save the cat on the third floor;
they became food for worms—
"meaningless, meaningless," blazed
the scorching disco ball.

Fresh breezes renew what once was,
evanescence removes the blotted cloth
and love's voice is heard again;
ashes swirl
and the clay molded;
he is made new,
she is made new.

He offers her his watch, she combs his hair;
a honeysuckle vine guards and sweetens their bed
under the great ancient oak—

love never promised rosebushes daily blooming,
but promised long suffering;
charity did not offer velvet cushions
but offered the cool spring of kindness;
unconditional love did not vow golden crowns
but vowed humility and grace.

Thistles and thorn bushes he bore
to save the snowdrops planted
in the scorching heat;
she gave the keys and her pearls to his able hand;
they ran a marathon through a sea of broken bottles
with the horizon setting in their eyes;
they held a ticker tape parade
in honor of words that withstood the fire.

Through a glass, darkly;
an impoverished reflection,
skinny and malnourished,
the picture is not whole but
dimly shaded,
corners darkened gray;
our view is poorly framed—
someday soon
perfect love will no longer cast shadows
and we will see face to face.

breathing lessons

2010-10-07T14:23:00.000-07:00

it's the time of year for me when everything is so, so busy. my job load increases with an upcoming gala and silent auction on top of my regular work. we're still in the throws of the honeymoon phase of the marriage. but there's health issues that have slowed me down considerably. and then there's the friend who is still hurting and it weighs on my heart. and then there's not having energy for the daily things... like laundry and cooking and writing.

last night i could not fall asleep thinking about too many things. my husband. our future. the gala. my friend. my health. i started praying, passionately. i was worked up and frustrated while i prayed, asking God to intervene in the difficult situations. and then i realized something i have encouraged for others but wasn't practicing myself; sometimes you have to put aside your worries, your health, your petitions to look and see how lovely and mighty and kind and good God is. I turned to Psalm 33 and saw. my God is so much more than these little things.

Shout for joy in the Lord, O you righteous!
Praise befits the upright.
Give thanks to the Lord with the lyre;
make melody to him with the harp of ten strings!

Sing to him a new song;
play skillfully on the strings, with loud shouts.

For the word of the Lord is upright,
and all his work is done in faithfulness.
He loves righteousness and justice;
the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord.

By the word of the Lord the heavens were made,
and by the breath of his mouth all their host.
He gathers the waters of the sea as a heap;
he puts the deeps in storehouses.

Let all the earth fear the Lord;
let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of him!
For he spoke, and it came to be;
he commanded, and it stood firm.

The Lord brings the counsel of the nations to nothing;
he frustrates the plans of the peoples.

The counsel of the Lord stands forever,
the plans of his heart to all generations.
Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord,
the people whom he has chosen as his heritage!

The Lord looks down from heaven;
he sees all the children of man;
from where he sits enthroned he looks out
on all the inhabitants of the earth,

he who fashions the hearts of them all
and observes all their deeds.
The king is not saved by his great army;
a warrior is not delivered by his great strength.

The war horse is a false hope for salvation,
and by its great might it cannot rescue.

Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear him,
on those who hope in his steadfast love,

that he may deliver their soul from death
and keep them alive in famine.

Our soul waits for the Lord;
he is our help and our shield.

For our heart is glad in him,
because we trust in his holy name.

Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us,
even as we hope in you.

sweet poetry...

2010-08-25T09:27:00.000-07:00

hope and patience
by George MacDonald

An unborn bird lies crumpled and curled,
A-dreaming of the world.
Round it, for castle-wall,
a shell Is guarding it well.

Hope
is the bird with its dim sensations;
The shell that keeps it alive is
Patience

I am a fan of George MacDonald. His poetic words on faith and life helped me through some difficult times in life. His poetry reached places in me other words and voices could not. I love poetry though I have not always had the appreciation for it as I do now. Poets are selective with their words, seeking out that one beauty that says more than 1000 words together could.

I am taking down most of my poetry so I can refine it, and HOPEFULLY, in time send it in to various reviews. I do want to be published. Someday. I'll keep some up and put other new ones up too. But good art needs some extra brush strokes, and I want to be good.

Here's to hope and patience
and good art.

courage, my dear. courage.

2010-07-19T14:34:00.000-07:00

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, "I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along." ... You must do the thing you think you cannot do.

Eleanor Roosevelt.

Seven

2010-06-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

David Taylor recently did a blog entry on 7 things that are beautiful and I was inspired. I had to follow suit. 7 beautiful things:

1. Mazzy Star and her Into Dust introduced to me by my friend Amy who is living in Guatemala and helping the people right now while they recover from a hurricane AND a volcanic eruption (Amy is beautiful too). I fall in love with my husband even more every time I hear Mazzy Star.

2. Ikiru, the movie directed by Akira Kurosawa. Kurosawa is quickly becoming a favorite director of mine. This film takes you through a man's last year of life; it is a powerful and intelligent film that desires to inspire its viewers to live and truly live, to Carpe Diem. "... make the most of what you have. It is later than you think." (Horace) Ikiru is beautiful.

Takashi Shimura in Ikiru

3. My friend Stephen McCants gave us a breadmaker for a wedding present. Thank you, Stephen! It has been such an incredible blessing for this gluten free lady. Neal was brave and and tried making the first loaf, initiating the bread machine with gluten free bread. The warm smell of yeast and gluten free goodness filled our home; it's been hard to stop since. It's so good with a little butter and honey! Homemade bread IS beautiful.

4. A few months ago my husband sent me a link to some images to inspire creativity. I was fascinated by the fact I was drawn to the photographs with umbrellas in them. Here's my favorite: (click here to see a larger view of it.)

Waiting for rain by Simona Cristureanu

5. And speaking of rain, last summer we saw a horrible drought last summer with temperatures remaining over 100 for over 80 days. This summer, there is rain (nothing like three years ago, but wonderful none the less).

6. A couple of years ago I actually submitted a poem to a contest that I didn't make the final. When I read the finalists and this woman's work, I fell in love with her wit and craft. Love this poem. I think it's beautiful:

Cartography by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

I want to know your body as I know
these sandstone cliffs behind our house-take treks
for weeks along your spine, traverse your neck
with slow, exploratory eyes and go
for long excursions on your limbs with no
set plan for how I might get home, except
to know that you will lead me there. I'll step
so lightly, leave no evidence. And oh,
the maps I'll make, my love, will not be made
of paper but of tune. No rise of you
will be unknown to me, no inch unsung.
I know topographies change by the day—
that wind and water have their way. So true.
A good mapmaker's work is never done.

7. Okay, I know it's simple but fresh herbs are beautiful! N has an amazing green thumb bringing back to life my wedding fern that had almost completely perished. With fresh oregano and thyme and tarragon and basil and curly and flat leaf parsley at our fingertips, meals are so much more lively!

chains

2010-06-08T11:59:00.000-07:00

i don't know of many who have not heard the quote from John 8 "Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free." if you read the rest of the context around the verse you get a truer sense of the meaning of the verse. there's so much i would love to get into (ie. the section before this where Jesus writes in the sand); but there is much in question of who Christ is in the verses above and below. Jesus is being challenged by the children of Abraham. who are you? right before this verse Jesus says, "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples." and then after, "I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever. So if the Son sets you free then you are free indeed."

the truth Jesus spoke was hard on the ears it fell to. it was difficult to stomach. many denied his claims; this was not the savior they were looking for. he was from a terrible town (does anything good come from Nineveh?); he was meek; he was a carpenter's son. they heard Jesus proclaim, "before Abraham was born, I am!" and they were angered. this was blasphemy to their ears, so they picked up stone to throw at him ( Jesus escaped before the stones were thrown.)

what truth are you denying? are you listening to what you want to hear, pleased by good words? are you embracing a sugar coated lie that looks like the truth because how hard the truth really is?

a favorite quote of mine is from Flannery O'Connor: "The truth does not change with our ability to stomach it." the truth is the truth is the truth. i listened recently to truth be twisted into a lie; originally it was truth and it was truth that was difficult to hear. now after being twisted, it was lighter and sweeter but no longer truth, no longer powerful, no longer potent. it was impotent and weak. it was a lie. it was death. and now, with truth denied, the chains were placed back on.

a dear friend once told me a hard truth i needed to hear... but i did not want to hear it. she told me my apologies were not apologies because i followed them up with the word "but". i was angry, upset. but God used her to convict me. she was right. i listened to this truth; and i tell you, it gave me life, exposed brokenness and pride in me that needed to be addressed, and it improved my relationships and changed me.

the life Jesus is speaking about is the truth of who HE is, a hard truth but it is truth.

"A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic - on the level with a man who says he is a poached egg - or he would be the devil of hell. You must take your choice. Either this was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us." C.S. Lewis Mere Christianity

waiting

2010-06-04T10:06:00.000-07:00

wednesday my dear dear friend gave birth to a son. i sat at the office waiting to hear the signal and see the flags waving that it was time, he was almost here. it was a lesson in patience, i tell you, one i did not handle well. later, i held his tiny body and i celebrated the beauty of something so precious and amazing created by two people i love. i loved watching brie's face as she took in the complete miracle that was and is the bundle of wonder laying at her breast. that was worth the wait (though i am VERY aware the waiting was so so much more intense for her involving that thing they call labor (and for a very good reason)).

there are times when waiting is the best thing. the caterpillar and the butterfly. the seed planted. the babe in the womb. i remember watching my grandfather's incubator waiting while the eggs from his show chickens prepared to hatch. we couldn't wait to see a beak peak through the shell!

there are times when waiting is the hardest thing to do. waiting for change. waiting for an answer. i am currently waiting for a change in a situation of loved ones; and i desperately wanting to do something to change the situation for them. i was reading from Lamentaions the other day, remembering all that Jeremiah went through, all that God's chosen went through. it wasn't pretty! "Though I cry for help, he shuts out my prayer," continuing, "He is a bear lying in wait for me, a lion in hiding; he turned aside my steps and tore me to pieces; he has made me desolate; he bent his bow and set me as a target for his arrow."

Israel waited. when they couldn't wait anymore and acted in pride, when they did things their own way, they had to wait longer and endure more. Jeremiah continues, "my soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is; so I say, “My endurance has perished; so has my hope from the Lord.” Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.

there is nothing i can do for my loved ones but pray and wait on the Lord. waiting is in no way a passive thing though it is viewed and feels as such; trusting Christ is completely active. it takes shutting down and quieting the voice and the desire to do things my way. it requires believing that God is who He says he is and will do what he says he will do. it means praying, without ceasing, even asking the the LORD to change me.

christopher elliot, welcome to the world. you are a joy and a blessing to those around you. i pray you are a man who loves and waits on the LORD.

worshipping, honoring and petitioning the Almighty

2010-05-07T13:49:00.000-07:00

my God. my Father. my Abba.
you are BLESS-ED. you are exalted.
there is none like you.

your Reign we want. your Will- our desire.
we want YOU, your goodness, justice and righteousness for earth
the same way YOUR character resounds through the streets of HEAVEN.

we have not done your righteousness, we have failed- forgive us;
but may we also forgive others in the same way you forgive.

protect us and make us aware when temptations and our desires
cloud judgment and lead us from honoring you.
save us from that which is far far from you and your goodness.

For you are the power of powers. the glory of glories.

come Lord and rule with grace and mercy and justice.

in the presence of grace pt 2

2010-04-15T08:05:00.000-07:00

responding to grace

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is Rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

Bob Dylan "The Times They are A-Changin'"

i have been trying to nail down my thoughts on grace through some recent experiences in dealing with the ungracious among us, trying to understand the Grace i live under through Christ, trying to understand how i should respond to the ungracious, my own ungraciousness (yes, i made up a word. it's been done before by brilliant strategery.), what GRACE is, and what the consequences are in not responding to it.

lars von trier wrote Dogville partially in response to hearing Brecht's Threepenny Opera specifically the song "Pirate Jenny". in the song, jenny is abused, overlooked, made to work like a dog, but little do her overlords know that she actually belongs to a pirate ship. the pirate ship will be docking soon, and she sings how these men will get theirs in the end. it's plain and simple revenge.

not responding to grace has nothing to do with revenge. it has EVERYTHING to do with consequence. we live in a society that has taken consequence and almost thrown it out the window with philosophies like, "do what makes you happy" and "do what is best for you".

the God i know and trust in, the I AM, is a God of Grace. there is no doubt about that. he is loving and kind, he is charitable and patient, he is goodness defined. that same God is also a God of justice. many doubt this aspect of who He is because of how much goes unpunished, though reading through the New Testament it states many times, God will judge.

in reading the book of Malachi, they faced much of the same issues and problems as we do. "You have said, 'It is futile to serve God. What did we gain by carrying out his requirements and going about like mourners before the LORD Almighty? But now we call the arrogant blessed. Certainly the evildoers prosper, and even those who challenge God escape.' "

BUT later it continues, "Surely the day is coming; it will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant and every evildoer will be stubble, and that day that is coming will set them on fire," says the LORD Almighty. and then beautifully, "But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings."

this too is grace.

in the presence of grace pt.1

2010-04-14T09:56:00.000-07:00

i have a love hate relationship with the movie Dogville. it is amazing, moving, touching, convicting, true, beautiful. it is also ugly, rough, disgusting, harsh, devastating, hard to stomach, difficult to watch. if you don't like spoilers then don't continue reading. it's a story of a girl that escapes a mob and ends up in a small backwoods town; the townspeople don't know what to do with her, so the scholastic, moralistic lead male, Tom Edison (played brilliantly by Paul Bettany) comes up with a plan, an experiment and life lesson on morality. The girl, Grace, must earn the trust of the townspeople by doing tasks for them. At first the townspeople don't really have anything for her to do. One by one they come around and Grace has a schedule to keep in doing menial tasks for the people. She earns their trust and they vote for her to stay. The police come around with a poster saying that Grace was wanted for participating in a bank robbery, and the townspeople are aware of Grace's innocence but they begin to fear the law for harboring a wanted woman.
Tom comes up with a plan that Grace will do more tasks for the townspeople. They become increasingly demanding and she begins to make mistakes due to an overloaded schedule. The female townspeople and the children become abusive, and the male townspeople begin sexually harassing and abusing her. Grace is enslaved and is made to wear a wagon wheel around and a bell to announce her presence. Tom, the one townsperson in love with Grace and the one male who has not had sex with her, tries to force himself on her and she refuses. Now he decides it is time to call the mob, more in fear of his own lack of morality. The mob shows up cordially greeted by Tom and the townspeople, and we then find out Grace is the mob boss' daughter. He takes her in his car and they discuss what to do. She asks him not to be harsh on the people, but then realizes her standard for herself is much higher than the standard she sets for others. The whole town is completely destroyed.

i love this film because it amazingly illustrates the abuse of grace. yes, grace can be and is abused on a daily basis. there was someone i offered grace to over and over and over. she took it freely over and over. she couldn't pay a bill? i obliged. she needed something from me, i gave. then came the moment i needed her grace in something small, and suddenly judgment and fire were poured on my head. i think of the times i abuse the grace God gives me. "He'll understand", "He knows I struggle with in this area."

"what do we say then? do we go on sinning that grace may increase? by no means! we died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?" romans 6:1. g.k. chesterton wrote, "I do not believe in a fate that falls on men however they act; but I do believe in a fate that falls on man unless they act."

i did some research on this film trying to understand it's roots and the author/director. lars von trier is in no way a morally impressive man. in fact, i'm pretty disgusted. his latest film illustrates what earth would have been like if Satan would have created it. no need to see that. but i am still impressed with dogville. it is hard to recommend to others because of how hard it is to watch. but von trier exits the hollywood "all-is-perfect" mentallity, and gives us a picture that is worth more than perfection. it exposes our grossness, our abuses, our iniquity not relishing or beautifying that iniquity but placing a mirror in front of the viewers face to see our own failing. one writer said after viewing the film, "I am ashamed in the presence of Grace".

in the presence of grace, how do you respond? how do i respond?

of ONE substance

2010-03-29T09:33:00.001-07:00

WE BELIEVE in one God,
the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,
the only Son of God,
eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, Light from Light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made,
of one Being with the Father.
Through him all things were made.

For us and for our salvation
he came down from heaven:
by the power of the Holy Spirit
he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary,
and was made man.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again
in accordance with the Scriptures;
he ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,
and his kingdom will have no end.

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the Father and the Son.
With the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified.
He has spoken through the Prophets.
We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
We look for the resurrection of the dead,
and the life of the world to come.

sing, oh daughter of Zion

2010-03-03T13:15:00.000-08:00

i took a break today and realized what calms and focuses me. music. it is crazy busy right now with working and planning the wedding; and today when i felt the boiling point approaching i stepped back. i went for a walk. i sang (my of two favorite genres- classical and big band). and i purchased a rather large diet dr. pepper. and i sang some more. everyone was in their respective cars and buildings while i sang on my walk, so i don't think anyone heard me. frankly, i really don't care. it worked.

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent. Victor Hugo

The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul. Johann Sebastian Bach

haiti

2010-01-14T13:31:00.000-08:00

i wrote a post two years ago on Haiti. the country marked me as did my short time there. i was there in 1994, sixteen years ago now. the country and it's faces left their imprint on my heart. i remember pulling into the port at Gonaives and being greeted by fishermen. i remember the traps loaded with fresh lobster, lobsters larger than i had ever seen. i remember the UN soldier i spent some time talking to while on the shore; he died from a gunshot wound shortly after i left the country. he had a wife and a daughter back home he sorely missed.

it was very hard to get to shore during our time there, but there were a few opportunities presented to me. one was a bath. when we arrived to the country, the ship that was docked for a while before we came, took all the water saved for our time there. we had no water. the UN brought us treated water to drink but we couldn't wash dishes or bathe. we also had to conserve the water while we were sailing and did not have much left when we arrived at shore. i think it was about 12 days i had gone without bathing. also when we arrived in Haiti i found out that a friend had died unexpectedly. i was shocked and depressed, and worn out. cried a lot.

and then some kind of relief. a handful of us were aloud to go to shore to get... a bath! in a river, of course, but it was a bath none the less! some lovely faces greeted us to take us to this one area to bathe. two sweet hatian women, my age and a couple of young haitian men, part of the ministry there in haiti. they asked so many questions and wanted to know why i was sad. they did everything they could to cheer me up. they were joyful and loving. happy and kind. i would call them naive but i can't. the environment they grew up in would cause a boy to become a man within hours. i couldn't understand their joy. i couldn't understand their happiness.

the bath was the best bath i have ever had in my entire life. yes, it was in a bathing suit with about 10 other people. but it was cool, crisp water, water that lifted my spirits and washed the heaviness from my body. i sat there in the water contemplating it all, realizing how powerful the Love of God, the only I AM, truly is.

i flew out of Haiti on Christmas day and guess who showed up to take me on the four hour van ride to Gonaives? my sweet Haitian friends. Luc bought us all fresh juice and bananas for breakfast from a woman carrying a large bundle of bananas on her back like she had just picked them that morning. we watched the sunrise over the hills. saw the ebb and flow of the sea in shades of blue i cannot begin to describe. the Haiti i saw was beautiful.

we saw one Christmas tree but plenty of those begging on the streets. barefoot children and feral pigs playing in the same area. shanty towns. shacks barely standing. we saw an expanse of poverty.

Haiti 1937 LIFE Magazine

this is the Haiti of my four Haitian friends. this is their nation. their world. they knew only this; they probably saw many things that would horrify my worst memories and tragedies. but those four faces smiled. those four faces never ceased in finding the JOY OF THE LORD when their world was in abject poverty, in overwhelming pain.

to my four Haitian friends who showed love and hospitality and generosity and true joy, may God grant you His Peace. May the Lord of Creation supply ALL your needs. May He give you JOY in such immense tragedy. May He be your comforter. May you be His light to all around you as you so graciously were to me. May He bless and keep you.

just do it, already.

2010-01-05T13:33:00.000-08:00

trying to write right now is so difficult. i think a true artist writes through the busy times, the difficult times, the pain, the sorrow. most classic writers had full time jobs and wrote when they returned home. editing and transcribing took place by candlelight after the chores were finished and the kids were in bed. george macdonald, a favorite of mine, wrote through the loss of a child.

right now is not difficult or painful. there is joy. there is excitement. but there is so much to do. planning your own wedding is a job in itself, one i am not made for. i'm trying to remember to breathe. forgetting to go exercise because there are errands to run. i do have an incredible fiance who has done so much for our wedding. but at the end of the day, there are multiple tasks that i haven't accomplished, there is an apartment to pack, two households to combine, a reception to plan out detail by detail. elopement sounds wonderful though my parents will kill me. i am thrilled to be marrying this man. i am overjoyed i get a wedding.

i haven't learned yet the balance of handling this huge thing and to stop and create, to do what i made to do. to remember to look in his face and smile, to be playful. to be quiet, to be still in the middle of this thing called an American wedding. to not take on worrying about the fact that someone is going to have to clean the church after the wedding and take down the decorations, that someone is going to have to take the leftovers and pack them up. to take time to look in HIS face and remember what all of this is about- our desire to honor our Heavenly King.

2010 challenge- i'm beginning this year in an incredibly busy season of my life, and really soon, our life. i've got to start living and doing right now. to live the writing life, to create art, to swim, to study, to learn, to make quiet time, to be alone with God, while i'm working out the largest event of our lives. the challenge- in the words of the simplistic but true nike slogan (with my own twist) "just do it, already."

what dreams may come

2009-10-07T09:13:00.000-07:00

since the awakening of a small dreamer, my eyes have desired to see the sight i saw that night. but it was so much more than i could have ever imagined. grace, mercy, perseverance, trust, hope, kindness, selflessness, humility, truth accumulated in a great convergence of joy that one singular moment as his posture declared his will. he left me speechless, tears streamed down my blithesome grin, and all i could do was kiss his cheek. and now i get to kiss his cheek for the rest of our days.

thank you, wordsworth

2009-09-21T14:47:00.000-07:00

(a handful of the) lines written a few miles above tintern abbey

For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A Presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Who dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear, - both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

William Wordsworth

r.e.s.p.ec.t.

2009-09-21T09:09:00.000-07:00

i've heard a few complaints from friends in the past two years about their marriages. once the i do's have been said, the wooing is over, romance is gone, and the focus turns to changing diapers and praying for time to actually sleep. sustaining marriages are steadily on a downward climb though i had the honor recently of being in a room of 10 women who had been married for over 30 years. i don't know what marriage is like yet. i don't know what having a family is like yet. but there are a few things i do know, and things i think about because i do want to be married.

why do you marry in the first place? in Genesis God says early on, it is not good for man to be alone. God creates a help-mate for him. it is life-long companionship. it is life-long friendship. it was never intended to be anything temporary to fulfill and satisfy temporal, emotional, physical longings. it is a commitment vowed before the God of the universe to love, honor and cherish each other. in Cranmer's vows from the 1556 Book of Common Prayer, Cranmer writes:

....to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church: which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee, and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.

marriage is not to be entered into lightly or unadvisedly. it's not a status or a goal. it is something holy to be treated reverently.

desiring to be married, i do a lot of reading especially relationship books that approach marriage from a Biblical worldview. i am in no way professing i know how to sustain a marraige. i am approaching this in humility because i don't have a marriage i've tried this with. but as i am taking in information from those who have been married and have had issues, here are a few things i'm learning:

1. the honeymoon is just the beginning. the wooing never ends!!!
2. each partner has needs. you may not be experiencing the wooing like you had hoped, but are you aware of his needs? and are you voicing to him (gently and wisely) what your needs are?
3. it takes two. rarely is there one person at fault.
4. husbands, never give your wife a workout dvd unless she asks for it.
5. wives, please never imasculate your husband... especially in front of others.
6. he wants to be your hero.
7. she wants to be found beautiful to you.
8. love is a choice and an action. never equate it to feelings.
9. attraction is in the eye of the beholder. and the mind behind that eye.
10. yeild to one another.
11. respect your husband. it could be trusting him to do what he said he would do. or letting him out of going to the quilting expo. it could be giving him a night alone or with the guys without calling a thousand times. planning an evening alone for him with him in mind, what he would want to do. praise him where praise is due.
12. love your wife. it could be bringing her her favorite flowers for no reason. picking up dinner. changing the oil in her car. writing her a note on why you fell in love with her. doing the dishes. planning an evening alone with her, for her, doing what she would want to do. please tell her she is beautiful.
13. he comes first, after your relationship with God. honor him with trust.
14. she comes first, after your relationship with God. love her sacrificially.
15. never forget, there is a reason you chose each other!!!
16. this is the one person that you have been given to love unconditionally. unconditionally.

everything made beautiful. in its time.

2009-09-11T13:45:00.000-07:00

"The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost" G.K. Chesterton

the days of summer have finally turned from scorching heat to a sweet sweet falling rain, a grace on this dry and weary soil. i am cherishing the gray clouds because the sun has been relentless and overall selfishly overpowering the wistfully parched sky.

today i'm in a pensive mood realizing the summer is closing... and hip, hip hooray for that... and fall is fast approaching. (of course austin fall means warm, three-quarter length shirt wearing weather and not the cozy hemp sweater wearing kind of fall.) the months are flitting away too quickly.

i'm thinking about time in the whole line up of eternity. when i think about it, our life span is so short. we're not given 200 years like those gone before (sorry but 969 years is way too long to live). we have these 70 to 80 (90s or 100s for others like my great grandmother) years to live. and i'm asking myself how am i spending those handful of years? am i living like i only have a little portion of time on the eternal timeline or do i spend it frivously? am i living as though time is short?

this translates in the way i choose to live, the way i love, the way i choose to treat others. the choices in what i do in my free time. the choices i make in behavior. the choices to forgive (or not forgive). the choices to be kind. to be graceful. to imitate kingly mercy. to imitate the shepherd. to not worry! yes, it's all scary. to be honest and real. to take that next step forward. to trust an unseen God. to remove masks in front of crouds of onlookers. to release pride and admit a mistake. to send a submission to another publisher after a rejection. to sing in front of a large group of strangers.

but without making these choices, life is not really worth it. it is existential nihilism and we're all just good country people. and my name is hulga.

are you living deep? are you living deliberately? are you sucking the marrow from this precious life that God graciously gave you?

Remember how fleeting is my life. psalm 89

thanksgiving in july

2009-07-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

eucharistia

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~Thornton Wilder

I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder. ~G.K. Chesterton

i'm trying to grasp thankfulness today. gratefulness. why do we say thanks? why do we send thank you notes and flowers and speak blessings? why don't we just accept a gift and leave it at that? why do we say thank you?

older generations are lamenting the fact that the younger generations have lost all proper forms of manners. i have to agree. we have. i have been reading through dear abby and miss manners columns and this is my favorite quote: "The art of writing a thank-you is a social grace that every wise parent should pass along to his or her child."

yes, i learned to say thanks because my parents taught me to accept gracefully though i didn't always do it well. i remember vividly getting a lesson in gratefulness. i was in second grade and we lived in peru. i had just sung in front of the church with a couple of adults. on the walk home with my dad, someone gave me a compliment, and my response was, "no. i wasn't very good," trying to be self-efacing, trying to divert the attention from me. my dad gently corrected me telling me the proper response was a thank you. plain and simple. no one had to tell me i was a good performer. no one was obligated to compliment me; but they did it out of the goodness of their heart. i guess it was more a lesson on receiving gifts but i will never forget what it taught me on the giving of gifts as well.

not only did i learn it from my parents, but i also learned gratefulness from knowing Christ, for, truly knowing him, gratefulness will pour out like a dam undone.

And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

i'm still exploring the concept of gratitude, but i thought i would start by saying thank you. thank you mom and dad for raising me in God's truth and in the love of Christ. for that i am eternally grateful. thank you kara and joel for putting up with me and the many times you have shown grace to me. thank you brie for 19 years of friendship, prayer, and love. thank you molly verdyun and mrs. t and debby polizzi and martha rasco and carla heltzel and johanna oudman for being Godly examples and extending your wisdom and kindness to me. thank you dr. t and david and geno and the beacham family for being steadfast in your faith and leadership. you have been very influential in my life and in my faith. thank you to angela clemens and emily harris and brie and charity and kristy hoffpauir for giving me a roof over my head when i did not have one. thank you jan and jane and kate and stephanie and jodi for your support and prayers and patience with me. thank you caroline and john for supporting me and caring for me when times were hard. thank you jerry goff and tim wallace for being excellent pastors to a silly teenage girl. through your leadership i grew deeper in the knowlege of Christ.

thank you, neal, for your love. you amaze me and words cannot express how grateful i am for you.

thank you Christ for your unfailing love and amazing grace, the gifts you give i do not deserve. thank you God for your sacrifice. thank you that you call me Your own.

an exploration of caritas

2009-06-23T08:54:00.001-07:00

Through a Glass Darkly by Henry Fraser

An Exploration of Caritas

She tries the known and unknown tongue,
clashing and clanging;
it sounds like dissonance;
she, standing on the corner soapbox
screaming love,
echoing imperfection.

Knowledge past and future
beats at his soul;
released left and right
the words flow like a torrent,
drowning love,
like an authentic counterfeit.

She cut her hair,
he sold his watch;
they gave it all away
for empty pockets
and bottomless cups;

So she chose the burning building,
and he ran in to save the cat on the third floor;
they became food for worms—
"meaningless, meaningless," blazed
the scorching disco ball.

Fresh breezes renew what once was,
evanescence removes the blotted cloth
and love's voice is heard again;
ashes swirl
and the clay molded;
he is made new,
she is made new.

He offers her his watch, she combs his hair;
a honeysuckle vine guards and sweetens their bed
under the great ancient oak—

good words, one.

2009-06-22T14:51:00.001-07:00

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

after a year in an anglican church stateside and a year overseas, i have a new love for the english standard version.

quite contrary

2009-06-19T12:25:00.000-07:00

how does your garden grow?

we planted seeds on the inspiration of a friend's garden. i wanted zucchini plants but none of the stores carried the plant, only the seeds. i have always been afraid of planting seeds. it can be disappointing when nothing comes up. sometimes you have bad seeds and they don't sprout. sometimes the gardener doesn't have the discipline to raise seeds. sometimes it's difficult to have the patience to wait on the seeds. i worried, did i do it right? did i plant the seeds too deep? two and a half weeks i waited. i wanted to see fruit. i wanted to see plants. neal saw his basil a lot earlier than my zucchini. i was getting discouraged and frustrated, thinking i would never be any good at this seed-raising-gardening-green-thumb thing. but i kept on watering. and i waited. well, wednesday morning i checked. number one zucchini plant rising through the potting soil, lovely green. new. still carrying it's seed. and deeply rooted. very strong roots. and yesterday, two more.

in this fast food culture of drive-thrus and microwaves, waiting is not valued. but there is much to gain in the waiting. in the waiting, you can choose to worry. you can choose to get frustrated and throw a fit. you can even choose to give up because the results you want to see aren't happening in your timing.

or you can just breath. relax. trust. keep on watering, keep on caring for the seeds, finding the right amount of sunlight. the right amount of exposure. and in time, the right time, you will see the fruit.

there's a little dirt between my toes

2009-06-01T13:05:00.000-07:00

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.

this scripture stuns me in many ways. the night before he dies Christ gives this commandment. right before he made this commandment, he was serving his disciples by washing their dirty feet, a task usually performed by the lowest servant or, if you are an honored guest, by the host. it was not performed by the honored guest! but he does it; he showed them the full extent of his love. he gets on his knees, removes their sandals, wipes their feet clean with a towel around his waist. he washes all of their feet including judas, who jesus already knows will betray him. and still he extends his love for judas.

i am watching many people i care about focused on a desire to be loved, desire to be sought, a desire for relationship, a desire to be wanted. so many wanting friendship, wanting companionship. but how will it happen if we all sit on our hands and wait for others to come to us? i do this too. i want to be liked, to be needed, to be called. but it won't happen with my hands tied behind my back! and sometimes, it takes more than one phone call, more than one time sitting down with a coffee. sometimes it takes a good foot washin'.

neal and i had a funny incident a couple of weeks ago. i decided to pack him a lunch to take to work. and while i was doing that, he was getting a lunch for me. when i arrived at his house, we handed each other our lunches, both surprised by the simultaneous gesture. can you imagine if we were all washing each others feet, serving each other as Christ's example, not for our own reward? we might indeed be known by our love rather than what we are known for.

bells

2009-05-27T07:35:00.000-07:00

my best friend got married last weekend. we did it! she made it! it was a beautiful day. neal called it a truly joyful celebration. when the bride and groom are both "older" and never married and it's a friend i've walked with for 19 years, it was hard for me not to be gushing with excitement! brie and i waited a long, long time for this day. she went through contemplating never getting married, but that didn't turn out! when she told me she had been praying for ed, when she told me of the letter he sent her, and her consent to be pursued, i celebrated knowing she was getting the desire of her heart. knowing she loved him. i actually interviewed ed to gauge his intentions and commitment to someone i dearly loved, and he passed. he loves her. a lot. sunday i had front row seats to his expressions as he said his vows to my friend. i got to watch the skin wrinkle up in the sides of his mouth while he smiled with his whole face lovingly and joyfully into her eyes. he was intentional and bold from the very beginning, and now he has a lifetime to love my friend and she him.

we've been through much, brie and i. 19 years of tears. of laughter. of prayer.

and it is with a glad heart i get to call her mrs. tschoepe!

the do's and don'ts of life in stressful, busy times

2009-05-07T13:18:00.000-07:00

guidelines for managing stress when everything feels out of control and all you want to do is grind your teeth and growl

DON'TS

don't pull out your hair. it's not good for you. it will only make you feel worse.
don't ram the car in front of you even though they cut you off/broke the law/almost hit you. not. a. good. idea.
don't eat a pint of rocky road. the almonds will get in your teeth and annoy you and the marshmallows might cause bloating.
don't kick or punch a wall. bruised toe only more frustrating.
don't take it out on the barista. yeah, he may have steamed the milk in your iced non fat latte, but he's just a boy.
don't eat those cute little burgers for fun. as my boyfriend says, they're called sliders for a reason.
don't watch a sad sentimental movie. you'll just start crying and weeping and reminiscing and blowing your nose and hear yourself saying, "remember when?"
don't hit anyone. or bite. or kick. (you're no longer 2 years old, unless my niece is reading this!)

do brush your hair (you'll thank me later.)
do beat on your horn and scream in the car. that... is a better choice.
do eat ice cream. just not a pint (oh, college days when i could eat a pint and still look like i never ate)
do hit or kick something soft (like a pillow. or a boxing bag. just not a barista.)
do tell your barista to have a nice day. and until life is less stressful, get your drink from a different barista if the first barista doesn't learn how to make a simple iced non fat latte.
do eat something else cute besides those little burgers. flautas can be cute. black beans are pretty darn cute. nothing is cuter than a petite salad with some scored cucumbers and itty bitty grape tomatoes.
do watch something that inspires a little action. one roommate and i watched alias together; i was very inspired to learn kung fu. my current roommate and i watch lost. it's nice to get a little "lost" once in a while. i'm always inspired afterward to go take a shower and change clothes. (do they ever get to change clothes? i totally want to brush evangeline lily's hair.)
do kiss someone (preferably someone you know. and that you know well. and that you usually kiss.) hugs go over great.

gifts, grace, and gratefulness

2009-04-09T07:56:00.000-07:00

i've been a little grumpy and upset lately as i watched kindness and grace abused by someone who expected it of me and took it in a kind of "grace greed"; not an ounce of gratitude was given. i wrestle with this so much because i don't know how to properly respond, how to love and serve as Christ loved and served; and in the same breath, NOT to be walked all over and to set healthy appropriate boundaries. grace was expected and not extended; it almost felt as if a "you owe me" beam was radiating from this person's forehead. i know that beam because i too have radiated that beam in the past.

and so it has me thinking through this thing called grace and the wonderful gifts and graces i have been given.

this year my boyfriend gave me the best valentines day i have ever experienced. he made homemade gnocchi, steak, veggies. had flowers and chocolates adorning a lovely table. gifts sitting in my chair. and to top it off he made homemade red velvet cake. he did it as a service, as an expression of love to me. and i saw it as a reflection of the love he knows from Christ. he did a lot; he didn't have to do so much. it was a grace, a gift for me and it touched me deeply. it was something lovely, beautiful. and i am so grateful for this man.

i have to say, i am so glad i am in service of a High King, a relational but revered God. i am also glad i know a Savior who graciously gave, who came to serve on this earth, who showed mercy to this soul, giving His life up and taking all my grime and gross-ness, and all the grime and gross-ness done to me, sacrificially walking to the cross not only carrying a great beam, but also the weight of the sin of all generations on his back, suffering greater pain than i'll ever comprehend, giving up the heavens, giving up his rights as the son of the Most High King, giving up breath, that we may enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. that we may know fellowship with the Author of goodness, truth, beauty, kindness, grace and mercy.

it takes humility to extend grace otherwise it is not grace. can you imagine Jesus walking around on this earth, pointing and saying, "you owe me. i gave you life." he didn't do that! in fact, he said he came to serve, to be a ransom for many. it wouldn't be grace if it required a payment. it wouldn't be mercy. it wouldn't be kindness. it wouldn't be goodness. his sacrifice was a gift! Jesus extended His grace fully aware that many would not accept his gift of life, fully aware that many would never show an ounce of gratitude, in fact, many would reject his gift, mock it, spit on it, deny it, abuse it. it wouldn't be true grace if gratitude was expected; by nature grace is unmerited.

and by nature grace takes humility to receive, to say i cannot do this on my own, i need love, i need help. it does matter how i respond to gifts, to grace, to service. neal has my devotion and my love. and i am always looking for ways to bless him, to serve him and love him more. Christ above all has my devotion and my love. His gift has eternal rewards; the counsel of the Holy Spirit, the title of adopted child of God, fellowship with Jesus, and when i die, I get to dwell in goodness, wisdom, mercy and love. and i am always looking for ways to bless him, to serve him, to love him more.

God's grace is for all but it can only be received in humility.

Matthew 20:25-28 Jesus called them together and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."

Art by Christopher Koelle

"are you bona fide?"

2009-02-24T11:08:00.000-08:00

love that line from o brother where art thou. and today, i am. i just got paid to write. done it for free (though as part of my job) and done it for me. and now, well, now....

i'm bona fide.

camp, it's on its way.

she

2009-02-11T12:24:00.001-08:00

The first mention of St. Valentine's Day is in Chaucer's Parliament of Foules (though it is up for debate which Valentine) in the 14th century in honor of King Richard II of England and Anne of Bohemia, a poem for the love birds who wed at a very very young 15 years. Richard and Anne were true lovers who were evidently devoted to one another and deeply in love though it was an arranged match. In fact, neither took other lovers, no recorded illegitimate children, and Richard is noted in referring to Anne as his beloved. on her death he refused to walk into any room that reminded him of her and was described as being wild with grief. Also, Anne did not come with money. In fact, Richard paid Anne's brother Wencelslas for Anne's hand.

Anne was known for helping Richard with his temper, for pleading on behalf of Londoners and others endearing herself to the king, and though she remained childless throughout their 12 year marriage, he remained faithful.

And that is a couple to commemorate.

For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.

grace revisited.

2009-01-14T13:18:00.000-08:00

mickey myers night falls on jericho street

i love u2's song grace. it is a blanket of comfort as i play it over and over. "what once was hurt, what once was friction, what left a mark, no longer stings; because grace makes beauty out of ugly things." i read an article in Christianity today where Bono speaks on grace. "Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions, which in my case is very good news indeed, because I've done a lot of stupid stuff."

i would like to add a bit more to it. grace interrupts the consequences of death and grime. the cross was an act of Grace, but it was costly. i still have to respond to that grace. i still have to be proactive. otherwise, it cheapens grace, "it is forgiveness without repentance" as Bonhoeffer said.

i have found grace offered to me over and over; but if i don't accept it, move with it, then the beauty of it is lost.

emanuel gat dance

appreciation

2009-01-13T13:03:00.000-08:00

“Let us learn to appreciate there will be times when the trees will be bare, and look forward to the time when we may pick the fruit.” Chekhov

a personal mantra of mine has been, "don't take it for granted. ever." because i have, especially in the past. have you ever found yourself looking back after having something and during that time you didn't realize how great it was? one personal example was living in downtown Chicago attending college there. i thoroughly enjoyed myself though i took for granted the opportunity to study there as well as the opportunity to live downtown. i had wonderful professors to teach me and train me, with resources beyond my 19 year old comprehension all at an incredible price (free). but i was depressed and confused and downcast and distracted and 19. i've been offered many opportunities like that and not realized how sweet the deal was.

i've also seen and experienced life without. felt the desert around me. and i have walked through a few valleys, the most recent one being pain. though to Job my life has been sunshine and cauliflower, it hasn't been easy.

the valleys have taught me an overwhelming gratefulness for the seasons of plenty. BUT, in the plenty, i am now grateful for the valley. there has been much to see from down there. much to learn. i read a quote today from the band, Relient K. "...But the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair." and i can say, it was grace that kept me in the valley and grace that led me out. and i don't take it for granted.

06.01.09

2009-01-06T14:25:00.000-08:00

it's january 6th, 2009 already. this year started busy and the days have flown by so quickly. christmas and new years were jam packed with holiday goodness and family time. neal and i didn't stop though we had time to enjoy it all. neal made the christmas gravy that awed my family. i made some tart homemade cranberry sauce. we played with the girls, watched movies, and ate really delicious food for days and days. we toured a winery, remembered the alamo, strolled the riverwalk, did the new year's day polar bear swim. active and busy. but rich and full.

i am starting this new year not liking my writing anymore; but i'll keep writing. because i enjoy it. because i think i could be good with time and practice. because sometimes you just keep swimming even if it feels like it is all upstream.

i am starting this new year healthy again. after a year long battle with pain and illness, with accepting a chronic condition and then being told that i will be completely well in the next few months, i am ready to regain strength and start moving forward.

i am starting this year aware that i have had a skewed view of God's goodness in the past. he is good- all the time. and as i am in a place of contentment, i want to remember that fact no matter what the circumstances are.

i am starting this year joyful for my dear friend, brie as she prepares to be a bride. we have known each other for 18+ years, many many life seasons. i am thrilled for this esther season and honored to walk with you in it.

and, i am starting this year deeply in love, blessed to be journeying with you.

everything i needed to know about giving i learned from a turkish bellboy and a mexican cardboard village

2008-12-12T13:17:00.000-08:00

it's that time of year where everyone is buying and buying and they don't know why. stores are overcrowded and messy. shoppers are kinda stupid stopping in the middle of the isle stripping little Susy down to see if the pants are going to be long enough next year. driver's are all on the holiday version of road rage.... Seasons Greetings to you too, you no good Fudge Eating Santa's Helper!!!

i heard one complaint this year from a mom who said, "well, no one needs anything!" last year i was pretty sickened by the gifting and holiday glimmering and the smiling and the cheesy movies and the glib seasonal songs. i didn't ask for gifts but i received some incredibly thoughtful and lovely ones. a jane austen cookbook, flannery o'connor books, dickens books and journals, an everyday tea pot, red tea towels. simple gifts of things i love.

but this year, i want to buy gifts. i am a whirl of ideas for someone in particular, and can't wait to shop. and it's not about the buying or the gifts themselves. it's the excitement of giving. i love it. not the money part or the material part. it's the thoughtful part i love especially when it's about love. when i lived in amsterdam, i had to send home gifts to my family making sure the package arrived before Christmas day. it was my first one apart from them. and so i searched for something for each one of them that was special and that tied me to them, that i could tie significance to. and then i wrote a Christmas letter to go with each gift. for my sister, i found jewelry. in her note, i talked the beauty i saw in her. my brother was on a new journey and was learning much through tolkien's books; i found a journal bilbo style.

this year we have wisely budgeted, set limits. i think i could buy and buy, again not for material wealth. for generosity. in 1997 i went to adana, turkey to take an apology from Christians to Muslims on the 900th anniversary of the crusades. there in adana, our bellhop invited us generously to his house. we took up his offer and i cannot begin to tell you the feast we had. i have not seen more food at the wealthiest tables here in austin, and i've sat at a few. we could have eaten for days on what was provided that one single meal. it was overwhelming to the senses. it was generosity beyond any i had encountered anywhere. we ate and ate large portions of cheeses and yogurt and kebab and dolmas and olives and fresh vegetables and pide and fresh fig, tea and coffee and ayran ( i could go on....) then he took us to the beach for turkish dancing and soda and cookies. to use a coined phrase, it was a feast fit for a king. and it was just for six measly americans wanting to bridge hundreds of years of hurt, still learning about gratefulness.

a month after the bellboy roasted us, some other friends came through the town hoping to meet with him. he couldn't have them over; he had spent a month's salary on our single meal.

going way back to 1990, i was on a missions trip in mexico to a cardboard village, helping run a children's Bible program. at the end of the week, the same thing. the village spent a month's salary to feed our team, the best and most humbling meal i had ever feasted on. once again, a third world country out gives the wealthiest nation in the world.

to only be half as generous is something i strive for. the least of these gave more than i can ever comprehend.

freely you have received, freely give.

2008-12-04T10:52:00.000-08:00

bring it on.

phantastes

2008-10-15T13:32:00.000-07:00

i love the fall. it is my favorite season though we reeeeally don't get much of a true fall here in austin. i love fall foods. i love falling leaves. i love long lusty breezes streaming through the screen. fall reminds me of good folk music. warm colors. piping bowls of quinoa and lentils. flavorful soups embracing my taste buds. baking anything and everything from cornbread to gluten free butterscotch brownies (we even made gluten free monster cookies the other day!). cuddly clothes. crunchy footsteps. overcast days. soothing midnight rain.

i wish i could wear sweaters in the fall. i wish we had more colors, more trees. i wish it were crispier outside and i could see my breath in the morning mist. i wish there were stacks and stacks of leaves to jump in. my ideal fall day would be with neal, sipping warm drinks, curled up in a big reading chair with a gi-normous book in hand, cool outdoor air whistling through open windows, mellow music, cozy sweaters, grey skies, all while viewing rolling hills carpeted in oranges and reds and browns and greens.

but we're in central texas. where it's still in the 80s and 90s (the day after i wrote this it dropped to 64! yahoo!). and autumn comes in december. right before christmas. and the trees are pretty short. and the breezes have been sparse (though it has been deliciously grey lately). and wearing a sweater sounds sweltering. and that is the reality of it all.

every november 300 million monarchs end their migratory journey in the south central mountains of mexico. 300 million. something truly magnificent. awe inspiring. breathtaking. a hail storm of monarchs. something out of myth. phantastical, in a way. i can't imagine being able to see it and would probably pinch myself as my jaw dropped to the ground.

the cool winds will come. there will be some color. and i will find ways to make this a true fall. there is a new reality to this fall. it's unexpected, a bit dream-like and i ocassionally have to pinch myself to believe it. i get to share this fall with you, a man i admire and love. and that is just as real as 300 million monarchs in the mountains of michoacan in november.

(wsfa) peace, love and understanding.

2008-09-25T15:23:00.000-07:00

never criticize a man until you walk a mile in his moccasins

i have felt judged lately. a lot. i've been criticized. and i know i have judged (and criticized) as well. something i've noticed in this process of relating with others is that the less you know someone, the less sympathy you have for them. the one thing about a good pair of shoes is that they are worn into and molded to fit your foot, they know your foot. they follow the curves and arches just perfectly. and they fit your unique foot well, so well it's like... putting on an old shoe. it's true, this old proverbial wisdom. to be sympathetic is to have a close understanding with someone's feelings. empathy is to recognize someone's emotions or state of mind.

please walk a mile first. walk a mile.

when prophesies cease,

2008-09-16T10:33:00.000-07:00

i read something the other day that was one of the best definitions of love i have seen in a long time. love: a selfless expression of good. when i hold back love, it is usually in selfishness. fears, self preservation, pride. you know, the main motivators that keep so many of us inhibited. love protects... it means protection at the cost of my pride, at the cost of lookin' good. love trusts.... letting go of preserving me. love hopes.... taking risks to let go of fear. love perseveres... keeps on keepin' on, even (especially) when it's not about me. it will not/does not look like what my mind conceives it to be (man, i am so glad of that); in fact my conception of it is completely absurd and imperfect. this one thing i know-- love never fails. the author of love tells me so.

St. Frances De Sales said, "You learn to speak by speaking, to study by studying, to run by running, to work by working; and just so, you learn to love by loving. All those who think to learn in any other way deceive themselves."

and now, to love.

on politics and pansies

2008-09-12T12:52:00.000-07:00

august 26, 1920, united states. the 19th amendment. it was 1920 before women had the right to vote, before women had a voice in politics thanks to the ratification by tennessee (i love those volunteers); much suffering by the advocates; and the dedication of elizabeth cady stanton and susan b. anthony, alice paul, and many others. i have a desire to not take this right for granted. i cannot tell you what these women went through in order to get their voices heard, in order for their future generations to have a voice as well; and it wasn't even 100 years ago.

i don't know who i am going to vote for yet though my thoughts are already leaning one way. if i had my way i might vote for michelle obama and cindy mccain. they're pretty incredible women. i actually have sympathies with both parties/ all parties.

i don't like mud slinging. i don't like when others criticize beyond logic and use manipulatively flowery or overly scathing language (something the candidates do as well and HAVE been doing since Andrew Jackson and before). i just want the facts. i don't want to be manipulated. i want to make a clear choice based on personal convictions as i weigh each candidate's party and platform.

i like that i get to choose. i like that WE ALL get to choose. i like that i have the right to choose. i like that many have differing opinions. life would be boring without it. free-thought.... what a wonderful thing. please celebrate it today and use your mind.

miracles in stride

2008-09-08T14:00:00.000-07:00

january 2008 i got sick with an unknown, confusing illness, and by february i couldn't walk 1/2 a mile without intense pain. in fact, one day it took me 30-45 minutes to walk that 1/2 mile. by march, i walked a mile, BUT i was slower than a turtle tripping through jello with snow shoes on. really. i mean, really. for someone who used to dream of being a race-walker and had a fast paced one mile walk going, this was devastating. in the spring, i couldn't even walk through a grocery store or a mall without someone commenting on the "speed" of my stride.

but yesterday, yesterday i walked a 5-freakin-K. in an hour. i. walked. a 5.K.

you can credit diagnosis, celebrex, doctors, modern medicine, support and love, faith. i think it's a mixture of all of them. but mostly i think it's a miracle. i'm in pain today, but ohhhh, how i am thankful. my God still moves today.

the doctor told me in may i should not run anymore..... we'll see about that one. in his time.

"those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength."

summer fruit

2008-08-11T09:21:00.000-07:00

this summer brought days and days of 100+ degree weather. a well body! an 8 hour train ride to dallas. trips to hearne. a road trip to new york. and it brought something worth sighing over, worth shouting from the roof tops.

i am in love. with a wonderful man.

i am blessed by him and the daily little things he does to care for me. i joy in his laughter and love his jokes (even though he doesn't understand why). i still get a bit giddy when i hear his voice on the phone or his knock at the door.

and i have to smile everytime i remember that i get to hold neal's hand.

8 days in a new york minute

2008-07-29T12:57:00.000-07:00

day 1: neal, a true road warrior, takes the wheel of a 15 foot monster while micah hacks her way through a gluten free egg mcmuffin. more than perfectly spiced chicken biscuits. air conditioning dance for hours. precious food from hearne, cookies and brownies from ovilla. who could ask for anything more.
day 2: neal takes the wheel. air conditioning dance is over. customer service proves a lost art. two hours in jackson, tenn. a thoughtless mechanic who can't think on his own.
day 3: watch out louisville. watch out for neal's amazing grandmother and her powerful grabber.
day 4: queasy micah waves good bye kentucky. helllllooooooo ohio. helllloooooo wheeling, west virginia? good bye for good wheeling, west virginia. welcome to pennsylvania, home of the omish barn. and another barn. and yet another barn. i heart pennsylvania hills and mountains.
day 5: mcdonald's highway guru misguides; we have no desire to end up in syracuse. watch out nyc... neal is drivin' through lincoln tunnel. micah is very impressed. and very sick. neal navigates manhattan by rubber and harlem by foot. micah navigates brie's pillow. brie brings home the brie. the most tender chicken ever and seafood in madeira sauce mark the first day in gotham.
day 6: 18 miles of words, the villiage people, brazilian goodness, brooklyn lines, ice cream in central park. micah sick. neal patient. all thaid up with 5 wonderful people in the theatre district. and i am blessed by all.... especially the incredible man holding my hand.
day 7: i am still though the city moves all around me. and it is confounded by my stillness. first subway ride alone and i am met by a friendly woman from the bronx. we talk and i save a seat for her on the subway. three girls giggle and sing. harlem's wonders untouched. Lord, save their innocence. a latte later, brie and micah head to "england". two hours of tea and sympathy. lovely. bookstores and libraries. marble and maps. two lions book end a marvelous sight. i love my brie. micah pooped and speechless. brie patient. neal, micah and brie head to a darker gotham for three hours. lamb stew, salmon in dill, salad and carrot soup. je voudrais une boite en bois s'il vous plait. ahhhh la vie en rose.
day 8: hit the ground running. breakfast. the zoo- trains and travelers. the zoo- flashing lights and tourists. ice cream and good byes. subways, buses, and planes. tropical april showers at 14,000 feet while joe mccarthy gambles. and the wheels hit the ground back in austin; two black bags continue on the adventure.

and i am ready for the next adventure. this time healthy. got your bags packed?

summer rain, cherry blossoms and dragons in no particular order

2008-07-07T14:09:00.000-07:00

dear diary

pt. 1

"never asume the obvious is true" william safire, pulitzer prize winning writer

this is a quote intuitives, like myself, need to live by. i rush in and take what observations i make to be true without questioning, without seeking concrete evidence to back up assumptions, an intuitive thing to do and a very post modern trend as well. intuitives-- we all do this. a lesson i have learned and learned the hard way: ask. just ask. when you ask, truth will make itself known.

pt. 2

this is my favorite summer ever. this weekend there will be dancing. in a week there will be a road trip to new york. the best part..... is that it is shared with you.

abre o cerado la boca

2008-06-29T14:06:00.000-07:00

on waffles

there is a time for silence.

there is a time when i must struggle for words.

some days i must write and say as little as possible.

there is a season for everything under heaven.

but today, i want to shout your name from the rooftops.

1967

2008-06-13T11:26:00.000-07:00

melody floated on perfumed breezes
vibrant colors and patterns swayed from winds and hips
daisies haloed gentle people
cut grass and locusts
watermelon
cloud illusions and pipers at the gates of dawn
ella whispers not
it's easy
diamond cherries groove
are you a believer?
i'd like to know if summer is here.

kizkalesi

2008-06-09T13:30:00.000-07:00

turkey august 1997

i walked the shores of the mediterranean on a peaceful august eve. it had been a long week. i had a byzantine style bug after drinking something funny. i had walked the streets of adana alone shocked by the number of women and children begging. in mersin, an albino turkish woman and her two children dry and parched, begged me for food. for drink. for life. they will forever be etched in my memory like a tattooed soliloquy of the truest woe. the toothless man and the woman with one leg also stretched their souls out for filling. frail planet. frail love. frail compassion. failed mercy.

i carried the weight of the world as i pensively stepped forward in contemplative wonder. i stepped forward past the pounding tide and the castle of ladies. i moved unaware of what was in front of me, unaware where i was going. and then an image stole my gaze, caused my chest to stop heaving, stilled every thought, every worry, and sighing ceased. she danced one way and he danced the other. their movements fluid and profuse. graceful. gentle turkish folk music guided their plights as they traveled away from each other. and then for a brief moment around this circle of independent tarrying, they would move together. just for a moment though. and when they would move together, the dance became more brilliant, more captivating, more. after several rotations, the music stopped. the man, the woman together in an understood embrace, a sigh-filled pause. when the music began again, this time they moved together. he led forward. she followed. and their movements were in unison. it was the most beautiful dance my eyes have ever witnessed. and i was stunned by the quiet elegance.

has the arabesque ballad begun?

toutes les choses nouvelles

2008-05-29T08:45:00.000-07:00

nous avons fait bon accueil à l'été
avec grands eclat de rire
et j'ai été calmé avec joie.
mon coeur était plein.
brises chaudes ont caressé
les réserves
et les oiseaux chanteurs
ont chanté la crainte loin.

je n'ai pas regret
et je suis sûr.

wonder woman

2008-05-28T09:26:00.000-07:00

"What is there to be discouraged about? Gandhi said the victory is in the struggle itself. The struggle itself is the most important thing."

Aung San Suu Kyi

Her life and bravery give me the chills. Her sixth year under house arrest under way and she says the only prison is fear and the only freedom is freedom from fear. I know of some other prisons, but, yeah, fear is a powerful one. May you know freedom, may you be set free.

Rossi colored glasses

2008-05-27T08:18:00.000-07:00

Совершенная улица
Ulitsa Zodchego Rossi

St. Petersburg, Russia has the perfect street, the street of ideal proportions, perfectly measured, just perfect. In fact, one travel guide suggested that it was an incomparable opportunity to experience harmony. It has identical buildings on either side, same width, same height. The street is even perfectly symmetrical to the height and width of the buildings. When something is perfect, it is flawless, ideal, complete, whole, finished, polished, model, free of defects, blameless, without blemish.

HOAs exist to enforce and manage neighborhoods and yards, ensure everyone uses the same hose, cuts their grass at 3 inches, only plants crepe myrtles and mountain laurels, never puts pink flamingos or garden gnomes in the cultivated landscaping. And to the family that puts a pear tree in the front yard, watch out. You'll probably be asked to cut it down. Everyone else put in the standard silver maple creating the ideal housing development.

All is not perfect in our yard. Gotta say I prefer imperfections. I like funky flamingos.

frustration with general shwe

2008-05-22T11:49:00.000-07:00

set her free, myanmar, set her free.
her waters poisoned by decay.
her people swollen with hunger,
dying from disease and starvation.
her freedom sealed in junta pride.
her roof broken and leaking.
her home swept away.
her rice gone to wind and rain.
her pride in your hands,
her life under your thumb,
her strength in your power,
her posture in your control.
and you do nothing. you hold her back with guns and threats.
you let her stand naked in demolished fields.
you let her orphans run through barren streets.
you keep nourishment in holding cells
like her daughter of freedom,
the lady of peace,
you hold it under house arrest.
this is your people
and you have broken her like a weakened un-weened lamb.
you are the cyclone. you are the disease. you are the rot. you are the decay.

and all you have to do is let go.
set her free, myanmar. set burma free. and release the captive.

tsunami

2008-05-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.

flood me.
consume me.
devour my pride.
dig your claw in my dragon skin
and release me of this
putrid hide.
shatter the glass
of pretense
of shallowness;
break it into a thousand pieces.
my bones they cry out for resplendence.
my flesh it cries out for goodness.
my heart it cries out for wholeness.
walls still remain. demolish them.
reek havoc on their foundations.
take the mortar and make it pliable.
take the stones and make them like dust
between your index finger and thumb.
vaporize my blindness.

but do not leave me unprotected, naked, trembling.
cover me. blanket me. lead me. hold me.
hide me in your iron grip.
when you do these things, i will be raw, exposed.
please, make a nest for me in grace. in peace. in mercy.

in unfailing love.

as the deer pants for streams of water

so my soul longs, thirsts for living. for reality. for truth. for an astonishing wave of mercy that i can do nothing but weep oceans of living water.

may supplications

2008-05-16T12:04:00.000-07:00

today
i want the snow to melt
and spring to come;
today
i want all things new,
a fresh move,
a joyful beginning;
today i want to know
tidal waves and tsunamis
of heavenly water,
to sit on the starry shore
basking in the radiance of kingly love;
today i long for rain,
for red to be sated,
hannah's promise fulfilled;
today i want to walk washed bright by light
and not out of it,
to follow a path etched in time,
a hope and future;
today
i long for an end of darkness and shadows,
for an end to hidden attacks and cowardly enemies;
today
i long to boldly walk up the mountain
holding your hand.

gently down the stream

2008-05-09T11:00:00.000-07:00

it's one of those days when there is so much to say and write but none of it fits together. hem's gently down the stream captures how i felt for the first two days of this week with it's surreal, dreamy, solemn goodness as i reflected and somberly celebrated the joy of a perfect sunday evening. for two days i floated gently down the stream, not with a great smile or a stupid grin. there were no expressions and there are no words to write, no tone or voice that can capture the goodness i felt deep within.

thursday was filled with thoughts of bravery in the heat of weakness as i went to chemo with a friend. we were there all day and i saw many souls in and out of the infusion room, ones who have fought with more tenacity and bravery than i can ever truly imagine. there is so much to learn from those who have to walk this path, fight this battle. one lady we met will be forever etched on my memory; she walks this life with her head held high and the knowledge that her cancer will never go away. she was on her fourth type of chemo treatment for one of the rarest kinds of cancer. she is a true amazon. six foot tall. in her late fifties, early sixties. broad, strong shoulders. bright dress. adorned in jewels and high heels. feminine and unmoved. courageous. her comfort during chemo? her husband's picture by her chair. i was indifferent to the picture; but to her his face was love, acceptance, comfort, joy, a blanket of peace.

i am still processing it all-- there is so much to think on when in the chemo infusion room, so much to think about on perfect evenings. another loved one has to face cancer every day. am i helping her, learning from her? i also considered the brevity of life; our turn on this earthly playground is not that long. will it make a difference when i go? have i made a difference? will i ever have what my amazon friend has? i've been waking up every morning at 5:30 this week (not by choice!) turning those thoughts into prayers.

new song, same verse

2008-05-07T11:46:00.001-07:00

this morning i woke up at 5:30 with an original song, lyrics and melody, and i failed to write it down. silly me. it was a bluesy tune that stirred my heart reaallly early; i wasn't quite ready to get up yet. it was a bit of the cry of my heart in the vain of ruth. ruth's words to naomi are ones that have been written on my heart. ruth's servant heart, the way she loves, the way she puts aside pride to walk in obedience, impresses me, makes me want to reflect and emanate her character.

marketa irglova, a 19 year old independent Czech musician, and glen hansard are the two musicians who wrote thebeautiful music for the movie ONCE and acted/performed in the movie. the movie, about love and love lost, was one of the best modern musicals i have seen because of the original music. these two artists from different cultures infused their talents and influences bringing a new and fresh voice to a universal subject. each song captures in its melody a lifetime of emtion concerning love. the lyrics to the song i've posted aren't the best; but the musicality and the cinematography speak louder than words in a haunting illustration of what a heart cries.

ode to a bounty of parmesan

2008-05-05T08:46:00.000-07:00

Chesterton said it hadn't been done. It's time to pay tribute to cheese.

a solemn joy grew contentment-
it was a mid-spring's eve;
laughter echoed beyond the stolid oak,
oaks that rejoiced with us
and quivered in the wake,
in the solidarity of rapturous reverberation;
the nightingale sang his praise,
his tale interspersed with woe and anguish and
delight-filled bliss;
we too have known the darkness
and have banqueted in its shadow,
feasted on its shores;
but light, ripened berries and
the triune resonance of Il Cannone
sent it flying.

the Decameron's mountain,
parmesan mounds in plenty;
its salty, savory flavor preserves a memory
not soon forgotten,
embraced.

and i am full.

amber waves of grain

2008-04-28T14:05:00.000-07:00

In 1974, the year I was born, the world saw a food crisis of epoch proportions instituting the first ever World Food Conference sponsored by the UN. Thirty-four years later at least thirty-seven nations are now in a major food crisis. Some nations are hitting the panic button as they stop exporting rice and wheat and other staples while the UN and the World Bank wave their hands warning the bans only make the problem worse. Everyone looks for a scapegoat, someone or something to blame. China and India are eating better, one article stated. Free trade-- that's the problem! Bio-fuel, the cause of food prices soaring. Western capitalism is to blame. American agriculture is the culprit, another article read. Meanwhile, the peoples of Mauritania and Indonesia and Haiti and Cameroon are starving. The UN has called a meeting in Bern to address an immediate plan of action as well as the cause. The World Bank has doubled its lending to Africa (where a majority of the nations in crisis are) for agriculture to $800 million, both aiding Africa's problem while possibly creating even more problems down the road (debt debt debt on top of more debt).

A couple of months ago I went to Texas French Bread company to eat a lovely lunch of half a pimento cheese sandwich and a mocha walnut cookie. There was a sign at the register warning patrons that prices were rising due to wheat prices rising. And now, I learn that this staple, this grainy goodness, this symbol of wealth and health, prosperity and fertility, is poison to my body. As wheat is in high demand, its prices soar and there is a world shortage, I can't have my cake and eat it too. My daily bread? Potatoes, rice flour, quinoa.

I do feel a bit Marie Antoinette-ish as I enjoy my rice flour chocolate chip cookie and my corn tortilla breakfast taco. hundreds of millions of the world's poor are starving. I read several articles today to get the big picture of what is going on, and one person had the audacity to say that we ignore the problem and let it take care of itself. Let the poor die so we don't have to feed them down the road. Natural Evolution, he called it. Survival of the fittest, right? The wonderful shock and awe of the Beatitudes would say differently. It's the meek that inherit the earth. As a careless, irresponsible consumer who lives in a wealthy, capitalist, wasteful nation I must ask what I can do, what I can change as I leave my thumbprint not only on my country but on the planet as my decisions and patterns cause a waterfall effect on the global economy.

The World Food Programme

http://wfp.org/

The ONE Campaign

http://www.one.org/

World Vision

http://www.wvi.org/

Mercy Corps

http://www.mercycorps.org/

i heart aaron smith

2008-04-21T13:35:00.000-07:00

i keep a voice mail from a 2 year old boy named aaron. he now lives in india with his parents and sisters. i love that voicemail. just days before they flew to india, i got to spend one last evening with them; and aaron (his mom dialed and left a message as well) called me hours before just express the sentiments of his uncluttered emotions. in the message i hear his innocent, sweet voice unabashedly reaching from deep within that tiny heart of his just to say, "i love you, miss micah." i don't think i can ever erase that message. he saw a picture of me in december and remembered me, but i don't know if he will next time i see him.

three simple words that incorporate so much action, so much emotion, so much energy, so much. he had no hang-ups, no boundaries, no fear. aaron just said it. he wasn't told by his folks, "no, aaron, you're not old enough to understand love. we don't say those words to our babysitters and caretakers. we only say them to friends and family, people we've known for 10 years or more."

i had a disenchanting weekend, really lonely, discouraging, hard. i tried though. spent time with 2 old friends. called another. delighted by a central american breakfast of black beans, potatoes, eggs and fried plantains (i heart plantains!). swam (or at least walked in the pool). and still it was difficult. and so, i remembered aaron's message. no strings, no hassle, no buts, no holding back. just a pure and sweet and simple, i love you.

the great american disconnect

2008-04-18T09:00:00.000-07:00

So last night I watched and was thoroughly disturbed by the movie Lars and the Real Girl. Basic plot-- single 27 year old male lives alone in his brother's garage apartment. Hermit. Very lonely. Afraid to be touched. Not good in conversing with girls. Okay, really bad. And so he forms a delusional girlfriend (anatomically correct doll) and creates her to be his perfect woman. She was raised by nuns, served as a missionary, and was traveling the world. The whole town works with Lars supporting him through his delusion. Finally, his made up girlfriend is no longer needed when he begins to connect with a very sweet and very patient real girl.

What was disturbing is how isolated he was partly by his own design but also because of a scarred past. And also by the design we Americans choose to live. I don't like it! I hate that we are so pulled away from community in this culture. We have our own cars, we drive ourselves alone to our workplace, some of us are alone all day in our offices and cubicles, many go home to empty houses. We surrendered our front porches for back ones, and so many do not even know their neighbors' names. When I lived in Denton, Texas I lived alone for 6 months; during those six months I could go three weeks without meaningful conversations and even worse, three weeks without being touched. Now days, I can still go days without a hug or a brush, and there are a few days I can go without seeing anyone other than my boss and my doctor. Some of this by my own fault, some by cultural choices.

We are not made for this!!! We were designed for connection. We were designed for touch. We were designed for community. We were designed for holy kisses. There is scientific proof for these statements (for another blog) . Men and women. We need 10-12 meaningful touches a day.

so, my challenge today-- go hug someone. Today I am hugging my nieces and sister for lunch. If you have someone to hug, don't take it for granted. Please. I found this Australian short on You Tube called Meaningful Touches. So sweet and sad, sweet and sad... like dark chocolate.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2BdTO0wSMQ

the profound dichotomy of contentment and longing

2008-04-14T11:06:00.000-07:00

“Contentment is a pearl of great price, and whoever procures it at the expense of ten thousand desires makes a wise and a happy purchase”

John Balguy

“It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.”

George Eliot

"True contentment is a thing as active as agriculture. It is the power of getting out of any situation all that there is in it. It is arduous and it is rare."
G. K. Chesterton

"The continuance of your longing is the continuance of your prayer."

St. Augustine

first poetry rejection under the belt

2008-04-12T15:50:00.000-07:00

well, it doesn't look like any of us from writer's group made it into the finalists category of the prairie home companion bed of roses love sonnet contest. we did it though. i submitted. my poem was too obscure and sentimental, i think. ah, well. it's my first rejection! yeah.

still dreaming of a bed of roses.

beauty revisited

2008-04-10T08:06:00.000-07:00

"The human soul needs actual beauty more than bread."

D.H. Lawrence

i've decided that the rest of april will be enchanting. no matter what may come, this month will be a month of seeking beauty and being enchanted by little things. i'm going to two doctors today. i'm going to look for enchantment. my hips are killing me, limiting me, taking away mobility and movement. i'm going to find a way to be stationary and enchanted.

this morning's thunderstorms delighted me as they pulled me out of bed crying, Get up! we are greening your trees! come look and see! today i decided to send in my first submission ever to a poetry contest. woah. prarie home companion is having a bed of roses love sonnet contest; the prize is a sleep number bed and 3 dozen roses. i've been sleeping on the same mattress for 22 years. i love roses. winning would be beyond enchanting. so, i'll just be enchanted by the idea of a bed of roses and the fact that i actually wrote a sonnet and submitted it.

yesterday on my pursuit of beauty i googled (who would have thought that "google" would become a verb?) dogwoods, and found a stunning, enchanting photograph taken by a conservationist and nature photographer. i took a photography class in '94 at cedar valley college; my prof hated nature photography. i, on the otherhand, will always be a fan. it takes an amazing eye to capture images in a way that amaze, take us beyond reality, enchant us.

http://www.paulzaretsky.com/

beautiful things

2008-04-08T13:48:00.000-07:00

seven straight days of physical pain, and i am desperate for relief. so today i sought beauty. when i lived in amsterdam i became so overwhelmed by the power of pain, by the sorrow and suffering, i shut the door to experiencing pain. life was easier that way. so the woman who wept in my lap when her two children were taken from her-- i didn't feel it. i will never forget it. i had a friend alex who i tried desperately to keep from a drug addicted boyfriend; i didn't feel anything when months later i saw her still with him. i will never forget it. but in shutting out pain, i shut another door. i spent a week in the breathtaking beauty of the black forrest. i didn't feel it. spent a month in the english countryside taking long walks down wooded paths. i didn't feel it.

today i found the music of my second favorite film score composer, zbigniew preisner. he composed the music to two of my favorite films (kieslowski's rouge and bleu). faulkner once said, "Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain". camus on beauty, "Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time". janis joplin sang the blues. it's said that her mom once asked her why she screamed when she had such a pretty voice. it's because she had "soul", wanted "you to feel what i feel". "You know why we’re stuck with the myth that only black people have soul? Because white people don’t let themselves feel things. Man, you and any housewife have all sorts of pain and joy. You’d have soul if you’d give in to it.”

preisner's work is a thing of bitter beauty. listen and weep. it's that good. it's got soul. i've been listening to it this afternoon and i am transported by the beauty, by the music, and the pain seems.... trifle. it's like being in rivendell.

http://www.preisner.com/

"When despair for the world grows in me, and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be -- I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought or grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free." Wendell Berry

"Joy, sorrow, tears, lamentations, laughter, to all these music gives voice, but in such a way that we are transported from the world of unrest to the world of peace, and see reality in a new way, as if we were sitting by a mountain lake and contemplating hills and woods and clouds in the tranquil and fathomless water." Albert Schweitzer

1996 lake tahoe, view from heavenly by micah holcombe

writing life

2008-04-03T07:55:00.000-07:00

everyday has been hard to write through. today is gonna be really bad. last night i wrote through intense pain. i had to take the day off yesterday to cope with the pain. stayed up half the night with it. got up at 1am to take a bath because of it. i rolled out of bed this morning 10 minutes before work because of it.

because i'm really bad with boundaries and saying no, and because of my people pleasing tendency, my desire to make everyone happy both out of selfishness (to make myself look good) and a desire to serve, i had a relapse.

i came to work to find a huge mistake i take the blame for. pride was wounded. all will be well. but i made a mistake.

i allowed by nosey nature to get the best of me this morning. and i wounded my pride. i made a mistake.

confusion is king today. i have no clue today. i don't know anything today. boycott beijing? elections in zimbabwe? darfur? nafta? tibet? housing crisis? failing economy? go to school? move to new york, mexico, costa rica, africa, amsterdam, england, vancouver? stay? am i good enough for publishing? am i ever going to be good enough? will i ever write for money? encouragement? hope? love? what's wrong with me?

so, i plod and write. i got to have lunch with my writer's group and the luci shaw (http://www.lucishaw.com/) yesterday. i'll write about that next week after this week of poetry is over. revision is key in writing i learned. and some reason i feel extra insecure about my writing. but i'll keep writing.

really, i just want to kiss and be kissed. hold and be held. love and be loved. be without pain. have energy. be strong again. and write.

challenges and valleys

2008-03-31T12:05:00.000-07:00

it's a dreary rainy day today here in austin and the humidity is evidently as high as my curly hair. a grief induced headache finally disappeared this morning after a nice long visit to the chiropractor. visions of annihilating cancer cells dance through my brain as another one loved is diagnosed with the disease from hell (i imagine grabbing them and smashing them on a wall like rotten tomatoes, or whacking them with a giant mallet, or shooting them out of the sky with an ak 47, or decapitating them with a great heavy sword, or....) sorrow and depression grabbed me this weekend despite the lovely setting i was in (a house over looking the lake); and i couldn't write.

when i was in the throws of my strange 2 month illness, brie challenged me to keep writing from that place. it felt as if nothing good could come from my wearied fingers but i kept writing.

last week i decided to challenge myself to a poem a day for a week. i will start today and end sunday. even though this is not the best place to write from, i'll give it a try. life will always hand you sandpaper when you wanted linoleum. there will always be grey days when you wanted shiny ones. a poem a day. for a week. we shall see what will come. quantity produces quality? at least there will be quantity.

sir caedmon's plight

2008-03-28T13:24:00.000-07:00

a highland claymore supported
a heavy sigh,
a dark horse rode west
without his knight,
armor lay rusted and worn,
and wild dogs run off with the kill, a pheasant,
today's nourishment now feast for headless hounds;
a bow and arrow broken by samson's might.
clothes tattered and torn
barely shielding evening's dreary fog
from saturating bone and soul;
his face weary from travel,
his heart dismayed,
his pride wounded,
his countenance contrite,
the fallen knight waited by the road.

he knew not where the road led
but he knew where it led not;
he knew not what lay ahead
but he knew what did not;
uncertainty stayed his steps
and fear pulled muscles and sinews
from any forward movement,
for regret and remorse
he wore like a cloak.

his fire smoldered by soaking rains,
cold now became master;
he was not defeated
and he was strong for this kind of battle;
but yesterday's battle
dethroned him,
bested him
like sir gawain's shame;
all had fled
and the fallen knight agonized
all he had lost.

with no meat or mead to sate hunger and chill,
the knight set out
down the road through heathered fields
and stony hills;
he could find provisions in this wild land,
he could hunt and kill;
a stag ran past,
and another.
a coney skipped the path followed by a clever fox;
game was plenty;
the knight could survive here.
the hills could hide and protect, shield and defend;
pelts could be made to blanket the cold,
fires could be kept.
self sustainment was possible in these untamed hills.
the knight could survive.

ten miles west
a banquet was prepared
where snowdrops adorned a well worn table
and provisions were plenty;
a soft whisper called for return
while hearty hands snapped peas and kneaded bread;
a fire was raised blazing
and song could be heard over the distant murmuring brook;
lamb prepared,
the almonds ripe,
fresh apples filled the basket,
and pie steamed on the sill;

a warm hearth waited
while the door remained open.

woman worthy

2008-03-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

to a sister fringed and frayed from life's rags, afraid of being unknown and unloved

my love,
your eyes carry your spirit's wearied wear and i hear
you ask in words spoken otherwise,
loved?
cherished?
honored?
haved and held?
beauty surrendered to spoiled milk stains
and youth's fancies and dances gone with
soiled hands and chapped cheeks;
friends now fading;
time constrained to
serving others' mouths and wounds
and life's rhythmic demands.

seek deep within
and remember,
rise from these ashes
as woman worthy.
you are worthy of love
you are worthy of cherishing.
you are worthy of being held.
know yourself and stand in truth;
you are not alone.

seek the beauty,
mark the joys,
reminisce past confidences
and choose to walk in their light,
for my dear, you are woman worthy.

remember your strength?
remember your adventures?
remember your heart?
remember the spirit calling you?
remember the mountains and rivers and waterfalls?
remember your voice?
remember your fluid tongue and the languages it loved?
remember your eye that captured visions not seen by others?
remember play?

put behind the lies,
the words that linger to bind you to this
life of self lost.
put behind the feeling
that significance is found in the glory of other's praise;
search for it in the voice that never changes,
the one who dances over you because he calls you
daughter.
put behind the mantle that
has been crusted by other's shit and shame,
the mantle that weighs you down
and hides starry eyes and widened smiles.

beautiful one, you are woman worthy.

man of sorrows

2008-03-26T07:02:00.000-07:00

to a brother grieving

man of sorrows still weeping,
your heart of gold still bleeding;
it's made of flesh
and worn on the cuff of your sleeve,
still bruised and grieving;
your cheeks still fresh with
yesterday's mourning dew
and the relentless rain still beating;

man of sorrows still weeping,
your heart of flesh still streaming,
leaking the flood waters
of yesterday's spring,
golden and gone,
denied and rejected
for a handful of pennies,
left in icy dreams of remembering;

man of sorrows still weeping,
your heart of gold still moving,
touched and agonizing,
spilling, overflowing
oceans of rue,
salted dark tears
that once fell from anguished cheeks,
from swollen bellies
and malnourished souls,
arms left empty, warm kisses left unknowing;

man of sorrows still weeping,
your heart of gold still wailing,
still mourning with the cello's lament
a cry for frailty,
the strings echoing a solemn wind,
babes held now cold and faint,
a brother's loss your aching.

man of sorrows still weeping
your heart of flesh still driving,
sailing on the open sea,
the knowledge of the boat and lake,
the place where they meet,
the rhythm of the stroke, your longing;
the spirit descends,
a mourning dove heard cooing, comforting,
reminding, you don't have to be alone,
his gentle lucid voice still calling.

somber meditation

2008-03-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. "

-John Donne

strawberries and cream in a snowstorm

2008-03-07T17:47:00.001-08:00

today there is happiness
today there is dancing
today cherry blossoms bloom within
today feet tap just a little bit more
today cheeks ache with smiling
today joy radiates
today hope rises

why?

vacation is at hand.

just waiting for the cherry on top
to topple this mile-high whipped cream joy over
in exuberant giddiness.

three movements

2008-02-27T19:30:00.000-08:00

i walked for miles today looking
for poetry; and it found me,
it embraced me with its sure message
of hope and dancing elephants.

i walked for miles yesterday looking
for sunshine; and it found me,
it bathed me in its strong promise
of content and warm rice noodles.

i will walk miles tomorrow and i will look
for silk; i will close my eyes
and reach out in front of me with anticipation
of it clothing me in its red beauty
of tender mercy and
a solo clarinet sonata.

a winter's end

2008-02-22T10:25:00.000-08:00

in progress

that winter sunday
light shattered the icy sorrow
with beauty and joy
and words that awakened sleeping stars
though monday brought
a month buried under slumbering
sheets of uncertainty.

time passed and
the eclipsed moon hidden
revealed a blue moon,
tomorrow's dream unveiling,
while a strong north breeze
stole in
caressing my neck with its chilly breath,
promising a new melody.
fields of yesterday's oat crops
gone, let go, released to a grassy green hill of dandelions.
the lilacs withered
and the morning glories faded with the western sun;
they became earth and fed
the meadows of bright poppies,
meadows that whisper for
dawn's unassailed morn.

experimenting with haiku part I

2008-02-19T12:40:00.000-08:00

for you

rumors of joy, true
misty blue hills prophecy
blossoming dogwoods

for brie

gleaming grace adorns
hope halos as dreams draw nigh
and light becomes you

yeah, it's been one of those days

2008-02-14T09:29:00.000-08:00

it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that today is the day when red hearts and cavity-causing lollipops crowd desktops and inboxes. or the fact that today honors a man who chose to defy roman law by allowing love's call and God's design to win the day. or the fact that today is a couple's day.

i usually observe the day by taking myself out for a cappuccino and journaling, trying to find ways to enjoy and celebrate even as a single. but today, today i just want to fall into a strong shoulder and be held.... because my car died this morning and had to ride the bus and walk a mile (which wouldn't be all bad if i didn't have mono), because i've been sick for a month and feel miserable, because my glands are throbbing and my body aches, because i have insatiable sleepiness and i would rather be in bed right now (even though i got 10 hours of sleep last night), because there's work to be done in the office and i can barely keep my eyelids open let alone make web updates, because i am not allowing anyone to hug me and many are afraid to hug someone with a infectious virus (i would be too), because this illness is isolating, because being human i am designed for fellowship... and touch.

i know, i know. that's really not too much to complain about. there have been blessings as well. a dear individual set me up with homeopathic medication to speed up the healing. two lovely people brought me food yesterday. and i get these delightful cross-cultural phone calls!

the day did get better after going to lunch with my sister and nieces. my 1 year old niece, zoe, has this funny habit of grabbing her ears and chanting baby talk, and she saves this occupation solely for car rides. what a way to lighten the heart with kooky habits of 1 year olds.

still, it's just been one of those days when lemonade and cherry pie seem just out of reach. maybe i just need to change my outlook on lemons and cherries.

the impatient patient or "ill"iterations

2008-02-10T19:07:00.000-08:00

ah, to write something wise and witty, poetic and poignant, sagacious and sarcastic. but, lo, the brain cells and body have been borrowed by a voraciously vengeful virus for well over a fortnight, and i fear any attempt at phonetic fowl play would fringe on something frightfully freakish or freakishly phantastical, and the foundation for fine fellows of philology from the franciscan order found in the far off land of pfluggerville, to which i owe my honorary degree in experimental philology (or was that moldova?), would most likely find a fast way to finish this phlegmatic female. shall i fly first class to philadelphia to find a physician fond of deciphering fickly fiendish flus before the FFFph of FOpf finalizes my demise? but no. my melancholic malaise must manifest itself miraculously and magically benign before any flights of fancy misguide my fanatic feet. mono is maliciously and multifacitly unfair firstly because it was not kanoodled by a kiss and finally because i find i can no longer find fascinating phrases to fit my fiddle.

five hours of silence one saturday: dust to dust

2008-02-06T20:08:00.000-08:00

dust to dust

i did an excavation the other day
with a broken limb,
a weak instrument for archaeological discoveries,
and i found two simple layers.
the first layer was dry and brittle,
of things withered and lifeless;
with a simple twist between my thumb
and forefinger
i crushed and disintigrated
a crumbly, sunbaked, dehydrated, diminished leaf.

the second layer was completely smothered by the first.
light did not reach here. light did not shine here.
the first thing that reached my senses
was the smell; the smell of decomposition
and rot.
black were the leaves
spotted with white,
marks of earth returning to earth;
dark was this layer,
corrupt. demoralized.

and the archaeologist asks,
what weary, fading things
suffocate and choke
the sun's nutrient laden
shafts
from reaching this undernourished,
feeble soul?

five hours of silence on saturday: wind and fire

2008-02-04T18:39:00.000-08:00

wind and fire

the closer i get to you
the more pain i feel;
as i approach,
your radiance
burns,
it penetrates my skin
as it works its way in
warming my muscles and sinews,
bathing my vital organs
in pure light.

it is disturbing. it is uncomfortable.
it is holy.
and it is good.

even though i am millions of light
years away from the sun
and your glory steals my breath,
still i want more. you are my desire.

light of the world, pierce me
even more.

love's charge dear sisters, dear brothers

2008-01-24T12:06:00.000-08:00

dear sisters
my loves,
i charge you
as daughters of the most high king,
as women of worth and valor,
as ones who seek to know the
sovereign face of Love's true embrace,
guard your hearts
for the heart is the wellspring of life;
it is a precious thing,
an honest treasure of inestimable worth;
treat the men in your life with
a sister's care, with tender words and
holy kisses, with truth and grace;
do not arouse or awaken love
until its time,
until the Beloved
releases the chords that hold your
hearts and bind them to Him;
your hearts, they deserve to be honored;
your love, it needs to be cherished;
and you, you are worth far more than rubies;
do not toss away something so dear to the wind
hoping it will carry you across the waves;
wait! take heart and wait.
let love find you.

dear brothers
my loves,
i charge you
as sons of the most high king,
as men of honor and dignity,
as ones who seek to know
the face of Glory;
guards your hearts
for the heart is a value worth more than gold,
greater than precious stones,
it is the wellspring of life;
protect the sisters in your life
with truth and fraternal tenderness,
with grace and loyalty;
do not give love away
until your Sovereign releases you;
and when His charge is given
pursue it with the force
of the knights of old,
with david's lire
and solomon's passion;
for your love is thing of great worth
not to be won by lust or flattery
but to be held dear and held close,
to be counted far more beautiful
and costly than any earthly thing.

Sisters, remember their mothers when thinking of your brothers. Brothers, as a brother once said to me, "think of your sisters as the mob boss' daughters." Honor each other in the Love of the Beloved.

endor's kiss

2008-01-23T20:47:00.000-08:00

saul, how the mighty have fallen

what shadows fell here
and darkness concealed
what hollow voids hid in their
secret caves
and dry wood withheld,
dampened ground,
wet leaves crushed by heavy boots
and age
what the musty stench
and frothy air
of night secured
in its consuming tendrils

you, you walked to her
you chose her untested knowledge
doubt propelled your foot
hoping for a relief
wanting safety
security
pleasure
to know her magic
how it would sate your frailty
for she had the answers your answer would not give

and you, you walked away from trust
you chose endor's kiss
and all her charms
the dark crevisses of her mouth
and the folds of her skirt
that hid your weakness
her hips your delight
though you knew
under the veil was the
denial of truth
an age old sin
that led you down the familiar
and familial paths

you had a chance to walk away
even samuel knew
but you, you chose
the hidden
the wasted
the counsel of her lust
the seductive gaze
of power
and the driving hurricane
of the pursuit of knowledge
the idol of understanding
the guiling smirk
of her tainted lips
how the mighty have fallen
in the vain likeness
of holy crusades.

$1,000,000.00

2008-01-17T08:55:00.000-08:00

there is so much on my mind and heart, so much to write about, poems lingering on the edge of my tongue and fingers, still much sadness and much processing. but today something very rare and very unusual has happened to me.

i touched a million dollars. today. literally. i touched a check for a million dollars. today. with my own two hands. the interest alone on that check will make double my yearly salary. whoa. i love working in philanthropy. we give away money. and some philanthropists give away big money. like 1 million dollars. for good causes. some person just sat down and wrote a check with six big zeroes behind a big fat 1. and it wasn't child's play or monopoly money. it was the real thing. not to buy a house or invest in the latest technology. it was given away. just like that. for posterity's sake. not to make a grandchild rich and wealthy or to make a name for oneself. but for the general public to benefit. and again i say, whoa.

so, i of course began to wonder.... if i was given a million dollars just like that what would i do with it? how would i steward it? what would you do with it?

-i would set up a retirement fund for my parents
-i would set some aside for my nieces to go to college
-i would set some aside for investing specifically for charity/missions/ministry and research well what i give to
-i would put some to work in investments
-i would set some aside for adopting a child one day
-i would buy a reliable vehicle for my brother and sister
-i would buy a hybrid vehicle for myself
-i would buy a shotgun to put my current vehicle out of its misery
-i would put some aside hoping that one day i get to have a very simple wedding
-i would find some kind of support to lose that last 35 of hiding weight (yes, i am one of those women always self-conscious of her body and all the perceived imperfections)
-i would go back to school and go to grad school in england
-i would cook large elaborate meals for random people
-i would have a community home in an unknown land to host musicians and poets and writers and artists and travelers and wanderers and the tired and weary and missionaries and thinkers and lecturers and intellects and philosophers and seekers and doers
-i would dress like a true bohemian and pierce my nose
-i would study a country and its people and go live there for a while
-i would take some time out just to write. just write.
-i would spend a day at the strand in nyc buying and giving away books
-i would dream about all the things that need to be done on this earth to bring it closer to what grace and glory look like... para ejemplo, programs for street kids in under-developed nations, ways to get children in third world countries out of the factories and in to childhood, what relief in africa should really look like, how to end the sex slave trade, how to support debt forgiveness for underdeveloped countries and programs to help them develop and maintain budgets and thriving industries, etc., etc...

looking at the list, there is so much of it that can be done without a million dollars! i don't need the million. just kinda need a little faith. so much of it is just dreams and visions, hopes and prayers. my purpose in life, my purpose on this round blue globe is to honor christ. my purpose is to serve him all the days i am given on this planet. that is my call. that is my reason to breathe and walk and live. this opportunity to be a civilian, to be a warm body on a cold cold earth, is a privilege and a grace though some days it feels more like punishment and purgatory. i don't need a million dollars. i've been given so much already. and i ask a similar question in another light, how am i stewarding all i've already been given?

right now someone i know is helping a charitable organization plan to give away $100,000,000.00 over the next few years. now that is.... unfathomable.

behold ye, unsacred one

2008-01-15T12:36:00.000-08:00

what was hidden,
what was gloved in velvet,
what was meant as
an irony of pleasure
will be completely undone.

your power is not power,
it can be bested;
your hold has no mastery
over a soul
already claimed
a woman named,
made
in the likeness
of a king.

and if you read the
writing on a body sanctified,
redeemed
it does not read
'she is mine';

it echoes the words
of the solemn troubadour,
a long ago wisdom
calling and affirming
love's design,
'i am my beloved's and he is mine.'

darkness, your call is light
and i say in the name of
the one who knows well
your end
and, in the same breath,
knows well
the scarlet robe that consecrates
a heart forgiven,
run;
for his authority and dominion
knows no boundary,
no emasculation,
and absolutely
no end.

le monde dans elle mains

2008-01-03T13:45:00.000-08:00

pardonnez-moi, s'il vous plait.
je parle mauvais français et
je l'ecrit plus mal.

je ne comprends pas!
je suis tres desoriente
parce que
je ne sais pas si j'étais rêver
ou
si je vivais en réalité;
mon veu n'ont pas été validés
avec
les mots lumineux
ou
baisers de compassion,
ni embrasse.

et mon espoir regarde notre monde
avec les verres rose-colores,
comme utopia;
ma volonte l'a exigé,
les autres l'a encouragé,
et cheminées chaleureux écrites
sans écriture,
parle sans parler,
bien que l'instinct et l'intuition
ondulé les drapeaux jaunes.

mais aujourd'hui.
aujourd'hui est un autre jour.
et maintenant je comprends que
le monde est cassé
et
tout que j'ai rêvé était
de chaque maniere
tacite.

et deja,
je suis oublié.
et le slience.
il parle tout.
il n'y a bouge.
et rotation des arrêts.

le monde est-il une étape?
le monde est-il rond ou plat?
est-ce que les etoiles
entourent autour de nous?
je ne comprends rien.

"Entre l'idée
Et la réalité
Tombe l'ombre."

unearthing effigies

2007-12-27T09:05:00.000-08:00

2006 Yellowstone National Park by micah holcombe

naive, i know. images take time to form. maturity takes time and experience. i am a novice painter/ artist and it takes me ages to complete a work. there is a small stack of unfinished drawings at a friend's house that i wonder when they will be complete. there are paintings left half finished and paintings i wish i would have never given away because of how youthful they are. there is also the voice of the perfectionist that screams, not good enough!

but, it can be something truly breathtaking to watch a painting form! sometimes there is already an image there that is beautiful just as it is; and every new brush stroke only enhances it.

sometimes the painting hides itself. but with trust, with kindness, with time-- the veil is lifted. what is revealed is sweeping vibrant hues of red; draping blues and purples; highlights of yellow and white; foundations indigo and black and gray; soft and lively greens; rich and earthy oranges and browns; and a tender mauve.

it's time to pick up the brush. and tear the veil.

passion

2007-12-20T09:16:00.000-08:00

"I too can control the winds, Sir. I have a hurricane in me that will strip Spain bare if you dare to cross me!"

Cate Blanchett as Queen Bess

at least she had spain. i have no clue how to release this intensity. some days i hate my own morality.

a solemn scrooge

2007-12-17T13:31:00.000-08:00

(edited three times; final draft 12/19)

twinkly lights, christmas songs, santa claus, wintery wonderylands, sleigh bells, mistletoe, shopping malls, holiday sales, bows and ribbons, presents, decorations, trees, wreaths, little elves--- bah humbug. this year i could do without them all. i've been asked many times about what i want for christmas, and i don't have an answer. i want to just forget it all this year.

this year i can only see the materialism, commercialism, self-absorbed consumerism, selfish ethnocentric arrogance, and a preoccupation with a gluttonous, ravenous, excessive desire for things. i decorate the house every year with garland and candles and a door wreath, i buy a real tree; but this year there is only an advent wreath my roommate made and a fake christmas tree that stands in the corner decorated solely with silly string and marshmallows (long story). i want to sell everything and get rid of all the waste that just takes up space.

this year i can only think of something we discussed at the church i attend now-- advent as a little lent, a time of repentance. i see the depth of fallenness within me and the world around me. i sting with disappointed hope. melancholy creeps in and i respond by wallowing in it. depression calls for fire and heaven to make its claim on this earth.

this year i feel deeply alone. i am about to lose the best roommate i have ever had (a dear friend) to politics and red tape. my singleness feels highlighted by glaring, flashing marquees as those nearest and dearest celebrate with a significant one. i celebrate for them and with them though my heart is cognizant of its longing to be loved.

so, this year, i buy less for others and require less from others. so this year, i repent and confess, forgive, offer grace. so this year, i try and hold my head up knowing i was made to love and appreciate those who have shown love to me.

the advent lament does end. i've been playing jeff buckley's 'hallelujah' all afternoon weeping over brokenness and my own broken-ness. ah, but... there is reason to hallelujah. it may be a weak one right now, but it's a hallelujah.

(i've changed this blog three times. i want to be true and honest to how i was feeling but remain hopeful. but i know there is reason to hope. i cannot deny it though circumstances cloud it. like, for example, there is anticipation. and there is redemption. there is a remembrance that glory fell, grace came, and the heavenlies descended to the dirtiest, grimiest places among the broken. two arms, two legs, two eyes, placenta, and a cry; and love, made perfect, takes his mother's breast in a bittersweet embrace. this is what frees the soul from being eternally locked in a monotonous, drab existence. radiohead- no surprises- shows a resignation to life as it is, an empty happiness. believe me, there are many things i can find joy in and over. but without some kind of saving grace, it is all truly meaningless.)

advent

2007-12-12T18:15:00.000-08:00

winter's gray illuminates
all that is fallen;
snow's silence stills
the heart's striving;
the north wind's breath chills
all that is broken;
the lingering rain permeates
the soul's grieving.

laughter
gives way to mourning
praise
replaced by lament

white cries
save!
darkness groans
sanctify!
and this cobalt sphere wails
deliver!

lenten bread
hardened by age
and arrogance
swallowed
whole,
a life's rue;
taken
soberly,
consecrated,
unveils
luminary
hope.

vientos del cambio

2007-12-04T20:33:00.000-08:00

the air was thick
the barometric pressure intensified
and something new blew in
a nameless season at hand

which way the current flows
only the conductor knows

la langue

2007-11-29T12:54:00.001-08:00

too many words. too little reason. say less. speak less. in fewer words, more is found and more is revealed. 'when words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain' -- shakespeare

something was said directly to me yesterday when this particular individual was thinking out loud. the words were like nails in my chest; and though they were not meant to intentionally hurt, they held power just by being released. the words have fallen off and not implanted in me; forgiveness and forgetfulness are valuable tools in prying away at poisonous nails. but one learns because we all do it. i realized that i said something that night i wish had never come out of my mouth; it was on the brink of prejudice and could be construed that way. oh, be careful little tongue how you snap.

evidence and proof

2007-11-28T07:20:00.000-08:00

I-35 the sunday after thanksgiving is a freeway not recommended to travel. after spending an hour and a half on a piece of highway that usually takes me forty-five minutes, it was already time to stretch the legs (mainly because sitting on a freeway is just a bit frustrating). i stopped at an unnamed business and headed straight to the bathroom. this particular bathroom was a very awkward one; instead of two stalls side by side there was one on the right and one on the left. i came in and stood in line at the back wall with one other lady. at the outside door of the restroom, there was a wheelchair. in walks another woman who stands to my left now that the other woman has entered a stall on my right. i know i am next; the lady on my left knows i am next in line. in walks a mother and child and they stand to my right. the stall on the left opens and it is the woman needing the wheel chair. the woman on my left knows her and helps her to her wheel chair; and i enter the stall. it is my turn.

ah, but then there is the mother with child. she is quite upset with me because she jumps to conclusions. she thinks i am a horrible person who pushes others aside in order to serve myself and get to the stall first. the evidence before her suggests it in full. postmodern thought leads her to conclude that the immediate form of evidence is in her personal observation-- that i am a thoughtless human and i stole a place in line in the bathroom. yet i know that her sensory perceptions are completely subjective. she doesn't know that and lays the burden of proof on what her eyes see. she wants to comment to the lady who she perceives was in line first but she doesn't want to say something while i am still there. she attempts to comment and gives me a nice tongue lashing with her eyes when i exit the stall. the clear and convincing evidence before her suggested i was in need of an eye-whacking. misanthropic sentiments lead us to believe humanity is going to hell in a hand basket. what the mother concludes based on her eye witness account is that i am proof of this theory. i chose not to defend myself. i chose to meditate on this experience without letting this woman know i am not such a bad apple in the hand basket of humanity. but what conclusions will she draw from this, from a perceived truth? and yet i know the truth. i have the whole truth before me, and i completely aware there is a whole truth.

it made me think how often i do this; believe one truth based on intuition and the evidence before me, before my senses. but what lies beyond, beyond the door before i entered, before my senses were aware of their environment? what lies in unknown thoughts and proofs?

there is evidence before me that suggests two (even three) completely different conclusions. but i don't see what is behind the door. i do not have the whole truth. there is a whole truth that will put every bit of perceived and unperceived evidence into a whole picture. i long for resolution, a verdict, and to know truth. but until that time, i wait with patient defiance and trust the Almighty, the maker of Heaven and Earth. for i know He is the way, the truth, and the life. in Him is justice not anarchy, peace not chaos, real truth not relative truth.

raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

2007-11-24T19:29:00.000-08:00

okay, so i am allowed one cutsie wootsie post a year. this is it. won't happen again. had to do it though. brie and laurie, now you can see kara's gals....

aiden, zoe and nonna prepare to brace chilly dallas weather

zoe (full of life) visiting emily and bekah. zoe is walking at 10 months and i am pretty sure speaks fluent japanese. she is also an extreme extrovert, the life of the nursery.

aiden embraces her inner hippy. and yes, she is wearing short sleeves in fall. welcome to austin.

rosie cotton (we are a family of tolkien nerds), dad's one year old cavalier king charles spaniel, gave birth to seven absolutely adorable pups. seriously cute. seriously.

goooood momma who still loves a game of catch the frisbee. samwise is out hunting conies.

and something just purely goofy......

next post: how upton sinclair's the jungle changed the united states and why the fda needs a complete reformation (an attepmt to re-establish proof i am not a cutsie wootsie girly girl).