I’m listening to my all time favorite album. I love pulling it out and playing it after having a long absence from it. It brings me to a place of peace and a hidden rest. I say hidden because when I listen to the mellow sounds of this album I feel like I’m hidden away in the remotest of places and all around me is beauty and that soft subtle ache that reminds me that I am human. I like being reminded that I am human, though it is painful sometimes, it grounds me to the earth I so long to be away from. But this is where I belong, amongst the restless beauty of the world held together by will.
A few nights ago I was sitting journaling somewhere and feeling sorry for myself, per usual. And I began having memories of dreams that I have had in the last year, and I heard the Lord tell me that I have not been abandoned like I had supposed and that I needed to realize just what kind of intense communication I have experienced in my darkest times. He told me that I was acting like an abandoned, orphaned, neglected child by my Father and that I needed to stop doing that, because it wasn’t true.
He hasn’t broken his promise to always be with me. I just haven’t seen it the way he sees it. I’ve begun thinking about that, thinking about the processing we do as believers, and how little faith we have in God when we “process”. It’s all such a tension and I know that’s how it is suppose to be. I’ve also been thinking about the veil that is between all of us right now. It’s like we are all seriously hidden from one another. I’ve don’t remember another time like this in my life when I have felt such a strong sovereignty about the way we are all polarized from each other, but in the conversations I have had lately it’s like we are all walking on the same invisible path quite closely together, but no one sees it.
I’m working on some thoughts that I am going to work on, regarding this hiddeness…
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Friday, December 09, 2005
Alone: The Beauty and the Pain
November 30
When God Breaks In
We are plunged into mystery – what Abraham Heschel called “radical amazement.” Hushed and trembling, we are creatures in the presence of ineffable Mystery above all creatures and beyond all telling.
The moment of truth has arrived. We are alone with the Alone. The revelation of God’s tender feelings for us is not mere dry knowledge. For too long and too often along my journey, I have sought shelter in hand-clapping liturgies and cerebral Scripture studies. I have received knowledge without appreciation, facts without enthusiasm. Yet, when the scholarly investigations were over, I was struck by the insignificance of it all. It just didn’t seem to matter.
But when the night is bad and my nerves are shattered and Infinity speaks, when God Almighty shares through his Son the depth of his feelings for me, when his love flashes into my soul and when I am overtaken by Mystery, it is kairos—the decisive inbreak of God in this saving moment of my personal history. No one can speak for me. Alone, I face a momentous decision. Shivering in the rags of my fifty-nine years, either I escape into skepticism and intellectualism or with radical amazement I surrender in faith to the truth of my belovedness.
“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’”
Matthew 25:21
Brennan Manning
Reflections for Ragamuffins
Daily Devotions
Page 335
I'm not sending this because I read this everyday and I am a super "ragamuffin christian" because I have Brennan Mannings’ Daily devotional...but I'm sending it because I happened upon it yesterday and was struck by the simple profundity of it. Especially for this season of my life, and as I have been finding out from my friends, the season that many of us are in right now. The season of learning to embrace the dark ominous "alone". I am afraid of it, but then there is this awkward feeling of knowing that I should be okay with being alone, and I mean ALONE, and then this other reaction to it that seems to slam into me, and I have to run. So, when someone asks me how I am doing lately, I have been answering, "I'm learning to embrace loneliness", because I have no other way to put it. And I feel that for me, this lesson is too important to glaze over and rush out of. And proudly I see many of you doing the same thing with this question of "drinking the cup of aloneness". [side note to all of my friends who would add to this, "that does not discount the central importance of community and intense accountability in our day to day lives"] As we all know, we can be in a room full of people we love and who love us, and still feel profoundly alone. Anyway, I hope that you haven't lost all interest in reading what I was really sending this email out for in the first place.
Reflections of Ragamuffins...Brennan Manning...get it. Read Ragamuffin Gospel if you haven't yet, and if you have, reread it.
I love you guys. Thanks for listening, or reading I suppose.
And let me just say that I am glad to be your friend in this season of our lives. I'm thankful for the variety and quality of the people that God has woven into my life. You are amazing, you are the Beloved. Pretty much, you just rock my face off.
ajw
When God Breaks In
We are plunged into mystery – what Abraham Heschel called “radical amazement.” Hushed and trembling, we are creatures in the presence of ineffable Mystery above all creatures and beyond all telling.
The moment of truth has arrived. We are alone with the Alone. The revelation of God’s tender feelings for us is not mere dry knowledge. For too long and too often along my journey, I have sought shelter in hand-clapping liturgies and cerebral Scripture studies. I have received knowledge without appreciation, facts without enthusiasm. Yet, when the scholarly investigations were over, I was struck by the insignificance of it all. It just didn’t seem to matter.
But when the night is bad and my nerves are shattered and Infinity speaks, when God Almighty shares through his Son the depth of his feelings for me, when his love flashes into my soul and when I am overtaken by Mystery, it is kairos—the decisive inbreak of God in this saving moment of my personal history. No one can speak for me. Alone, I face a momentous decision. Shivering in the rags of my fifty-nine years, either I escape into skepticism and intellectualism or with radical amazement I surrender in faith to the truth of my belovedness.
“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’”
Matthew 25:21
Brennan Manning
Reflections for Ragamuffins
Daily Devotions
Page 335
I'm not sending this because I read this everyday and I am a super "ragamuffin christian" because I have Brennan Mannings’ Daily devotional...but I'm sending it because I happened upon it yesterday and was struck by the simple profundity of it. Especially for this season of my life, and as I have been finding out from my friends, the season that many of us are in right now. The season of learning to embrace the dark ominous "alone". I am afraid of it, but then there is this awkward feeling of knowing that I should be okay with being alone, and I mean ALONE, and then this other reaction to it that seems to slam into me, and I have to run. So, when someone asks me how I am doing lately, I have been answering, "I'm learning to embrace loneliness", because I have no other way to put it. And I feel that for me, this lesson is too important to glaze over and rush out of. And proudly I see many of you doing the same thing with this question of "drinking the cup of aloneness". [side note to all of my friends who would add to this, "that does not discount the central importance of community and intense accountability in our day to day lives"] As we all know, we can be in a room full of people we love and who love us, and still feel profoundly alone. Anyway, I hope that you haven't lost all interest in reading what I was really sending this email out for in the first place.
Reflections of Ragamuffins...Brennan Manning...get it. Read Ragamuffin Gospel if you haven't yet, and if you have, reread it.
I love you guys. Thanks for listening, or reading I suppose.
And let me just say that I am glad to be your friend in this season of our lives. I'm thankful for the variety and quality of the people that God has woven into my life. You are amazing, you are the Beloved. Pretty much, you just rock my face off.
ajw
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
trust:tact
The heart beats the same as it always has. Some times slow and steady, other times fast and frantic. Today, it’s slow and steady, a little heavy, but she’s still beating. She continues to beat even when I ask her to stop because it hurts the way it does when life happens. But today, its “steady as she goes”.
I was reminded last night, something about trust, something about life.
I was reminded that my heart is above all else, desperately wicked, and that I don’t know it. I was reminded that I don’t trust myself, and unfortunately it translates into me not trusting in God or people. Then I was reminded that somehow it is idolatry. That maybe it isn’t up to me trusting my heart, but really the issue resides somewhere else, where some need has gone unmet, by the only one that can meet it. And presently I am on this blindfolded journey to this mysterious conclusion as to what that might possibly be.
Maybe if I weren’t so melancholy about everything (other than laughing) it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But of course I must over-analyze all of it and therefore pull something apart that maybe doesn’t need to be dismantled.
Simply stated: Trust God.
Such a huge statement. I honestly don’t know how people do it honestly. I have such a wrestle with it that I can only believe that people aren’t telling the whole truth (as sometimes I do while I am talking “victoriously”) and they struggle with it, maybe not as much as I do, but at least more than they let on.
And not that it matters about them anyway. What matters at this moment is me and Jesus: me and my Father.
I had a somewhat jarring reality check last night with honesty and transparency. Someone said something to me that seemed inappropriate and out of context, and knowing their heart I realized they wanted just to be completely honest and forthcoming. And I sadly remembered a time when I was not as tactful as I am now (Yes, I was much worse than I am now…if you can believe it), sadly because I felt more integrity in myself, more honest about who I was when I had less tact. Not that I do not have integrity now, it is in different form I guess.
I wonder if the thing that drives tactlessness for the sake of “I’m just being honest” is from the need to be known and loved. That’s most likely what it was for me. I just wanted to be loved and accepted for who I was at that moment. But then the problem becomes this: what if people love you in ways that you may not recognize as love in the way you receive it, and therefore by placing a “burden of truth” on them for the sake of “honesty and love” you are pushing them away from you.
I don’t know if any of this is lucid at all. Just asking some questions, as usual.
I was reminded last night, something about trust, something about life.
I was reminded that my heart is above all else, desperately wicked, and that I don’t know it. I was reminded that I don’t trust myself, and unfortunately it translates into me not trusting in God or people. Then I was reminded that somehow it is idolatry. That maybe it isn’t up to me trusting my heart, but really the issue resides somewhere else, where some need has gone unmet, by the only one that can meet it. And presently I am on this blindfolded journey to this mysterious conclusion as to what that might possibly be.
Maybe if I weren’t so melancholy about everything (other than laughing) it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But of course I must over-analyze all of it and therefore pull something apart that maybe doesn’t need to be dismantled.
Simply stated: Trust God.
Such a huge statement. I honestly don’t know how people do it honestly. I have such a wrestle with it that I can only believe that people aren’t telling the whole truth (as sometimes I do while I am talking “victoriously”) and they struggle with it, maybe not as much as I do, but at least more than they let on.
And not that it matters about them anyway. What matters at this moment is me and Jesus: me and my Father.
I had a somewhat jarring reality check last night with honesty and transparency. Someone said something to me that seemed inappropriate and out of context, and knowing their heart I realized they wanted just to be completely honest and forthcoming. And I sadly remembered a time when I was not as tactful as I am now (Yes, I was much worse than I am now…if you can believe it), sadly because I felt more integrity in myself, more honest about who I was when I had less tact. Not that I do not have integrity now, it is in different form I guess.
I wonder if the thing that drives tactlessness for the sake of “I’m just being honest” is from the need to be known and loved. That’s most likely what it was for me. I just wanted to be loved and accepted for who I was at that moment. But then the problem becomes this: what if people love you in ways that you may not recognize as love in the way you receive it, and therefore by placing a “burden of truth” on them for the sake of “honesty and love” you are pushing them away from you.
I don’t know if any of this is lucid at all. Just asking some questions, as usual.
Friday, November 04, 2005
iffyness
I have been having a hard time remembering who I am lately.
It seems that since I have been home I have been struggling with all the things that I thought were just my doing. But I am discovering that it is mostly this atmosphere around me that helps press these lies into the fabric of whom I thought I was. I read a quote today that intrigued me, “Who you are never changes, just your perception of who you are changes.” And in so many ways I feel that that is true. Because isn’t it true that from before the very foundations of the earth was laid that my true identity was birthed in the heart of God as he began thinking about me, and about who I would be when he put flame into flesh and gave me a name? And from birth I always remained to be that very flame that originated in his heart, but I was born into sin and have been attacked since the day I was born, since before I was born.
It seems to me that when the thought of you enters the heart of your parents when you are found out that somehow darkness sees the type of light that you carry even as a multi-cellular fetus-being knit carefully together in your mother’s womb, and there is a strategy that is birthed in the heart of evil tailor made for you to start ASAP.
That is my belief anyway, because I seem to have been fighting this fight (or losing this fight) my whole life, pretty much without fail. And it still seems to be the very thing that Jesus keeps coming back to, to tell me about who I am. Sometimes it is so tiring hearing it again because I feel like I have failed so many times at becoming who that person is. And I so don’t feel like its ever really possible. But then moments like these remind me that I am not trying to be anyone. I already am who I am supposed to be. I am filled with light and the darkness cannot overwhelm it because it’s Jesus. And if my heart condemns me, that’s okay, because God is greater than my heart. He doesn’t condemn me. Even when I am faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself. That has got to be my life scripture. I cling to that more and more, over and over again.
It’s my story of love and redemption. Jesus and me, or Jesus chasing me, again and again. Relentlessly pursuing me because for a reason I do not understand he deems the fight worth it to him. I cannot comprehend a love like that. It is too great!
What I noticed is that if I am depressed about my life, I just have to talk to someone about what is going on and for whatever reason I get all excited and feel better afterwards. I know that a part of my depression is the fact that I am living a very selfish life and am not giving myself to anyone, except maybe my friends sometimes. And even then it’s iffy.
It seems that since I have been home I have been struggling with all the things that I thought were just my doing. But I am discovering that it is mostly this atmosphere around me that helps press these lies into the fabric of whom I thought I was. I read a quote today that intrigued me, “Who you are never changes, just your perception of who you are changes.” And in so many ways I feel that that is true. Because isn’t it true that from before the very foundations of the earth was laid that my true identity was birthed in the heart of God as he began thinking about me, and about who I would be when he put flame into flesh and gave me a name? And from birth I always remained to be that very flame that originated in his heart, but I was born into sin and have been attacked since the day I was born, since before I was born.
It seems to me that when the thought of you enters the heart of your parents when you are found out that somehow darkness sees the type of light that you carry even as a multi-cellular fetus-being knit carefully together in your mother’s womb, and there is a strategy that is birthed in the heart of evil tailor made for you to start ASAP.
That is my belief anyway, because I seem to have been fighting this fight (or losing this fight) my whole life, pretty much without fail. And it still seems to be the very thing that Jesus keeps coming back to, to tell me about who I am. Sometimes it is so tiring hearing it again because I feel like I have failed so many times at becoming who that person is. And I so don’t feel like its ever really possible. But then moments like these remind me that I am not trying to be anyone. I already am who I am supposed to be. I am filled with light and the darkness cannot overwhelm it because it’s Jesus. And if my heart condemns me, that’s okay, because God is greater than my heart. He doesn’t condemn me. Even when I am faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself. That has got to be my life scripture. I cling to that more and more, over and over again.
It’s my story of love and redemption. Jesus and me, or Jesus chasing me, again and again. Relentlessly pursuing me because for a reason I do not understand he deems the fight worth it to him. I cannot comprehend a love like that. It is too great!
What I noticed is that if I am depressed about my life, I just have to talk to someone about what is going on and for whatever reason I get all excited and feel better afterwards. I know that a part of my depression is the fact that I am living a very selfish life and am not giving myself to anyone, except maybe my friends sometimes. And even then it’s iffy.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Superhero Identity
| Your Superhero Profile |
Your Superhero Name is The Dawn Singer Your Superpower is Solar Your Weakness is The Color Red Your Weapon is Your Mystic Bow Your Mode of Transportation is Fire Engine |
Monday, September 19, 2005
ARRRR!!!! Me Mateys
It's International Talk Like a Pirate Day<http://www.talklikeapirate.com> ARRR!
Anna Joy Walker, your pirate name is Deckswabber Nimble Toe
Walk da plank ye swarby marby's!
Walk da plank ye swarby marby's!
Friday, September 16, 2005
New Beginnings
Writing is shit these days. Something subversive in me is taking over my love of words, because maybe in these days of waiting and semi confusion I have no words, I only have waiting and I only have hope and trust in my Father. I don’t know what he is doing. I can only guess and my guesses hopefully fall far short of what is really happening inside me, outside me, all around me.
I’ve been experiencing some intense emotions but have no idea what they are doing because these are very deep. Perhaps it is like a mother waiting and expecting something that has life, breath, and a heart beat to come out of her at the appointed time. And all she can do is wait and care for herself because as she does that her baby is cared for.
So I guess I am saying that this season seems to be about me caring for myself because there is something beautiful about to come out of me. Something full of life and hope and joy. And I don’t know what it is. I would love for it to be an actual child, but that would be impossible. And then again, God is in the business of doing impossible things in me and my life.
I thought it was impossible to be loved and desired, that has been demolished as well as some other hideous lies that have consumed me for the entirety of my life. And the impossible is happening because he is enjoying me right now. And I am letting him enjoy me in all of my beauty, all of my failings, all of my everything. The only thing I know for sure right now is that my Father’s heart is completely for me and completely good. He is the only one I trust with my heart. I think that has been the thing he’s been trying to get at for many, many years, but it is just now entering into the part of my heart that I can actually respond to him in that place.
It is amazing what life circumstances can change the entirety of your internal being. I have turned a corner in my life in the last 3 months. I have become a more whole version of myself. I am like Anna, version 6.1. Just a few short months ago I was like at 4.2, a year ago I was 3.9. And who knows where I will be in another 9 months.
I keep seeing the number 8, which means, I guess, new beginnings. Who I am is so wrapped up in my Father. I love that I can say that. That my heart has settled in this place that says, “no matter what happens, he will be with me, I will be with him.” I have ceased being concerned with how people view me. I am sure some of that is still alive in me, but I am in a space of favor with my Father these days. And I know he sees me through the purest eyes, and the most excited heart about who I am. I love that! He is my biggest cheerleader. That is just a really weak word. He is the Creator of the Universe and he sees me and cares about my heart. His name is on me and his investment is in me and he more than anyone else wants to see all of the glory of himself that he planted in me come out in a brilliant display of joy. And I want to see it too! I want the world to see it! The beauty of this beautiful God in me.
I love that I am being reminded of all of the lost parts of myself. It’s like all these pieces that never seemed to fit in one place are finally finding rest inside of me as I find rest in my Father’s arms. I love that he perfectly wove me together in my mothers womb and that over the last 26 + years of my life he has been meticulously drawing out the colors in this masterpiece. I’ve never understood it before, never appreciated it before. But he’s given me new eyes, and a new heart.
I have begun to experience that the more of God that I see in myself, the more I see in other people. The more beauty of his indelible mark in me, the more in others. It’s an awesome game. I think it may have always been the point.
I’ve been experiencing some intense emotions but have no idea what they are doing because these are very deep. Perhaps it is like a mother waiting and expecting something that has life, breath, and a heart beat to come out of her at the appointed time. And all she can do is wait and care for herself because as she does that her baby is cared for.
So I guess I am saying that this season seems to be about me caring for myself because there is something beautiful about to come out of me. Something full of life and hope and joy. And I don’t know what it is. I would love for it to be an actual child, but that would be impossible. And then again, God is in the business of doing impossible things in me and my life.
I thought it was impossible to be loved and desired, that has been demolished as well as some other hideous lies that have consumed me for the entirety of my life. And the impossible is happening because he is enjoying me right now. And I am letting him enjoy me in all of my beauty, all of my failings, all of my everything. The only thing I know for sure right now is that my Father’s heart is completely for me and completely good. He is the only one I trust with my heart. I think that has been the thing he’s been trying to get at for many, many years, but it is just now entering into the part of my heart that I can actually respond to him in that place.
It is amazing what life circumstances can change the entirety of your internal being. I have turned a corner in my life in the last 3 months. I have become a more whole version of myself. I am like Anna, version 6.1. Just a few short months ago I was like at 4.2, a year ago I was 3.9. And who knows where I will be in another 9 months.
I keep seeing the number 8, which means, I guess, new beginnings. Who I am is so wrapped up in my Father. I love that I can say that. That my heart has settled in this place that says, “no matter what happens, he will be with me, I will be with him.” I have ceased being concerned with how people view me. I am sure some of that is still alive in me, but I am in a space of favor with my Father these days. And I know he sees me through the purest eyes, and the most excited heart about who I am. I love that! He is my biggest cheerleader. That is just a really weak word. He is the Creator of the Universe and he sees me and cares about my heart. His name is on me and his investment is in me and he more than anyone else wants to see all of the glory of himself that he planted in me come out in a brilliant display of joy. And I want to see it too! I want the world to see it! The beauty of this beautiful God in me.
I love that I am being reminded of all of the lost parts of myself. It’s like all these pieces that never seemed to fit in one place are finally finding rest inside of me as I find rest in my Father’s arms. I love that he perfectly wove me together in my mothers womb and that over the last 26 + years of my life he has been meticulously drawing out the colors in this masterpiece. I’ve never understood it before, never appreciated it before. But he’s given me new eyes, and a new heart.
I have begun to experience that the more of God that I see in myself, the more I see in other people. The more beauty of his indelible mark in me, the more in others. It’s an awesome game. I think it may have always been the point.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Fight Club
sometimes I wonder why scars are so visable on some people and on others they are not.
I watched Fight Club today for the first time. There is a steady stream of males in my life that all answered the same way when asked what their top 5 movies of all time are. Fight Club is almost always in the top 3.
And I guess I am going to need some male mind to explain it to me. I appreciated the twists and turns, but maybe the estrogen in my blood prevented me from seeing it the same way those that are predominatly ruled by testostrone.
So I welcome some male insight into this most intriguing of films.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
a new day
Sometimes it happens so suddenly...a new day...sometimes it happens gradually, so much so in fact that you didn't really realize it was happening until you are riding home blinking away the late afternoon sun, happy and satisfied.
That's what happened to me today. I started out annoyed, was up too early for my enjoyment...I am after all "on vacation". (If you can call driving 4 days with trucks full of parents things, and sleeping in the living room of their tiny apartment a vacation). Maybe that is why I have made the mistakes I have made while I've been here. No, I will not tell what they were, enough of you know by now...Maybe it's because for SOME FREAKY WIERD reason there is some kind of magnetic shift in the plates underground and my right hemisphere has some wacky reaction to it which means doing things completely to surprize myself and the people who know me best.
I do strange things when I am here. That's probably another reason why it's so hard for me to come back.
I am in my hometown by the way, in case you hadn't picked that up from the previous postings...
So back to my day...I woke up too early and watched tv too long, then finally got up to pay bills. then my sister was over for lunch and mom came home...now at some point in all of that I suddenly had a realization (I think it was as I walked to the toaster to put bread in it) that the pj bottoms I was presently wearing at the time are the most comfortable things in the whole entirety of the world...for me anyway. So soft like only worn cotton can be and just plain perfect. I think it was at that point (pretty sure I did a happy jig in my most comfortable pj's) that my day began gradually becoming new.
Then I got out of my pj's to put on even more comfy clothes (not only in material nature, but also in color nature...wrinkley chocolate brown skirt and matching tank and pale pink shirt (a new favorite combo) YUMMIE), hair up in an unassuming bun, looking rather ravishing even without the makeup, if I might be so bold...finally donning fav pink flip flops and hot sunglasses I was ready for a little adventure with my mom, she was driving. Horray!
We went down to LaConnor, a cute little off the beaten path tourist shopping place, with nothing but adorable boutiques and awesome gallaries, all filled with things by local artists. Quite the treat. I don't know if there is anything better than those days when you feel absolutely comfortable in your own skin, and in knowing that realizing the absolute power you possess.
My mother and I lesiurely perused differant interesting shops, getting filled with new ideas and a little annoyance at why people would pay so much money for something, and boy we had better do something about it. having a late start made it only a short trip to the quaint little shopping district of the home of the tulip fair.
A little more on comfort...
I am coming to realize that there is a natural beauty a woman possesses if she is comfortable with herself just the way she is. Even if she is not "naturally" attractive on the symetrical scale of how the human mind processes beauty, there is something about the way she holds herself not to blame that makes her automatically a safe place.
I wonder if that is not why I am here. To somehow repave old paths in my brain with some sort of truth that was pounded out by countless lies through my youth of how I was not symetrical enough for society. And now, with some unknown confidence, in a newly discovered power, I walk differant. I pass the mirror and look. Normally I hurry past it, ignoring the reflection all together because of the shame I mostly feel. But now...hum...I pause and, not in vanity, admire features I forgot exsisted on my frame. Somethings' changed. No longer a hideous ogre, unable to be loved...in some strange and painful twist of fate I see for the first time why I am named "Graceful".
And so the new day has maybe possibly become newer in deeper nuances of meaning. Maybe all this pain was really to uncover undiscovered and undelighted in beauty in a creature as unlikely as me.
We woundup the trip by driving up my favorite stretch of marriage between asphalt and beauty. It's called Chuckanut Drive. I then realized as I hung my head out the window dispite the cool sharpness in the air (imagine that on an August 2nd) to sniff the unmistakable, unreproducable smell of heaven made only by trees, undergrowth, moss, ferns, salt water, and clean air, that I was happy. Happy to be me, right then right there, going the opposite direction I had always gone as a child...wondering what it was all for...
more thoughts later.
That's what happened to me today. I started out annoyed, was up too early for my enjoyment...I am after all "on vacation". (If you can call driving 4 days with trucks full of parents things, and sleeping in the living room of their tiny apartment a vacation). Maybe that is why I have made the mistakes I have made while I've been here. No, I will not tell what they were, enough of you know by now...Maybe it's because for SOME FREAKY WIERD reason there is some kind of magnetic shift in the plates underground and my right hemisphere has some wacky reaction to it which means doing things completely to surprize myself and the people who know me best.
I do strange things when I am here. That's probably another reason why it's so hard for me to come back.
I am in my hometown by the way, in case you hadn't picked that up from the previous postings...
So back to my day...I woke up too early and watched tv too long, then finally got up to pay bills. then my sister was over for lunch and mom came home...now at some point in all of that I suddenly had a realization (I think it was as I walked to the toaster to put bread in it) that the pj bottoms I was presently wearing at the time are the most comfortable things in the whole entirety of the world...for me anyway. So soft like only worn cotton can be and just plain perfect. I think it was at that point (pretty sure I did a happy jig in my most comfortable pj's) that my day began gradually becoming new.
Then I got out of my pj's to put on even more comfy clothes (not only in material nature, but also in color nature...wrinkley chocolate brown skirt and matching tank and pale pink shirt (a new favorite combo) YUMMIE), hair up in an unassuming bun, looking rather ravishing even without the makeup, if I might be so bold...finally donning fav pink flip flops and hot sunglasses I was ready for a little adventure with my mom, she was driving. Horray!
We went down to LaConnor, a cute little off the beaten path tourist shopping place, with nothing but adorable boutiques and awesome gallaries, all filled with things by local artists. Quite the treat. I don't know if there is anything better than those days when you feel absolutely comfortable in your own skin, and in knowing that realizing the absolute power you possess.
My mother and I lesiurely perused differant interesting shops, getting filled with new ideas and a little annoyance at why people would pay so much money for something, and boy we had better do something about it. having a late start made it only a short trip to the quaint little shopping district of the home of the tulip fair.
A little more on comfort...
I am coming to realize that there is a natural beauty a woman possesses if she is comfortable with herself just the way she is. Even if she is not "naturally" attractive on the symetrical scale of how the human mind processes beauty, there is something about the way she holds herself not to blame that makes her automatically a safe place.
I wonder if that is not why I am here. To somehow repave old paths in my brain with some sort of truth that was pounded out by countless lies through my youth of how I was not symetrical enough for society. And now, with some unknown confidence, in a newly discovered power, I walk differant. I pass the mirror and look. Normally I hurry past it, ignoring the reflection all together because of the shame I mostly feel. But now...hum...I pause and, not in vanity, admire features I forgot exsisted on my frame. Somethings' changed. No longer a hideous ogre, unable to be loved...in some strange and painful twist of fate I see for the first time why I am named "Graceful".
And so the new day has maybe possibly become newer in deeper nuances of meaning. Maybe all this pain was really to uncover undiscovered and undelighted in beauty in a creature as unlikely as me.
We woundup the trip by driving up my favorite stretch of marriage between asphalt and beauty. It's called Chuckanut Drive. I then realized as I hung my head out the window dispite the cool sharpness in the air (imagine that on an August 2nd) to sniff the unmistakable, unreproducable smell of heaven made only by trees, undergrowth, moss, ferns, salt water, and clean air, that I was happy. Happy to be me, right then right there, going the opposite direction I had always gone as a child...wondering what it was all for...
more thoughts later.
Monday, August 01, 2005
poster
How do you live in a house that is static with the sound of gripping silences, filled with anger, disappointment, failure, and pain?
How do you call such a place "home" that has stifled you and given you the wrong name? What's to become of you in the suppos-ed comfort of your suppos-ed home where all you are is chained to the ideal of what a mediocre life should be,
and you, my friend, have become the poster child.
How do you call such a place "home" that has stifled you and given you the wrong name? What's to become of you in the suppos-ed comfort of your suppos-ed home where all you are is chained to the ideal of what a mediocre life should be,
and you, my friend, have become the poster child.
I used to call you home...
Bellingham, I used to call you home:
Vague familial ties keep me coming back to you.
“The Great Green Haunting”, that’s what I shall name you.
Constantly eroding the softened edges of my memories, singing an enchanted tune, calling me, like the tide responds to the moon, home to the shores of my belabored birth.
And so I return, and like a bitter sweet reunion you tell me you were once in love with me in our youth and now so much time has passed your heart has turned for a less softened girl.
It seems to me that you cannot handle the femininity I now carry between my lips, my arms, my hips. You can’t seem to handle the confidence with which I step.
You awakened for a moment to show me your strength and then you denied all feeling, and gravitational pull to what you know is your dream finally fulfilled in a being too real to be true.
And yet, here I am.
I walk barefoot in the grass whenever I come home, I like the grass here. It’s cool and sort of sticky and somehow it roots me to the earth…
You never were enough for me, but the memory of your beauty and the desire that curbs all of your roughened edges still gives me some unfounded hope that someday I will not come home to pain.
You. Are a cross that I bear, and I probably feel the same to you, and we are both weighted down by unspoken paragraphs of pain, desire, truth, beauty, strength, and something I think might be love.
And this time its different, it’s the end of something, of unrequited desire that lay smoldering for years. Snuffed out finally by time and so many tears, held captive inside of me, I forgot to breathe, pain so great, I’d love to hate, but find myself unable or unwilling or maybe I’ve just learned how to be forgiving after all of these years.
Vague familial ties keep me coming back to you.
“The Great Green Haunting”, that’s what I shall name you.
Constantly eroding the softened edges of my memories, singing an enchanted tune, calling me, like the tide responds to the moon, home to the shores of my belabored birth.
And so I return, and like a bitter sweet reunion you tell me you were once in love with me in our youth and now so much time has passed your heart has turned for a less softened girl.
It seems to me that you cannot handle the femininity I now carry between my lips, my arms, my hips. You can’t seem to handle the confidence with which I step.
You awakened for a moment to show me your strength and then you denied all feeling, and gravitational pull to what you know is your dream finally fulfilled in a being too real to be true.
And yet, here I am.
I walk barefoot in the grass whenever I come home, I like the grass here. It’s cool and sort of sticky and somehow it roots me to the earth…
You never were enough for me, but the memory of your beauty and the desire that curbs all of your roughened edges still gives me some unfounded hope that someday I will not come home to pain.
You. Are a cross that I bear, and I probably feel the same to you, and we are both weighted down by unspoken paragraphs of pain, desire, truth, beauty, strength, and something I think might be love.
And this time its different, it’s the end of something, of unrequited desire that lay smoldering for years. Snuffed out finally by time and so many tears, held captive inside of me, I forgot to breathe, pain so great, I’d love to hate, but find myself unable or unwilling or maybe I’ve just learned how to be forgiving after all of these years.
Friday, July 08, 2005
amtrak
July 8, 2005
Amtrak to Jacksonville
Families that travel together, stay together. That should be the Amtrak motto; it might get them more business.
So the thing I notice about this train traveling business is that there are a lot of African-Americans that travel the rail system on the southern half of the east coast. And they travel as families. It’s pretty amazing really. There seems to be a whole other side to the culture that I haven’t seen much of. They are mostly kind (even to white people) and it’s almost like it is relaxing or something. There is kind of a calming effect that the train has on people anyway. It’s like magic. (except in the middle of the night when they are going 80 miles an hour over really old tracks and make you rock back and forth so bad you feel like you may fall out of your seat, it feels funny)
I’ve heard rumor of the government cutting spending so much for Amtrak that they are no longer going to have continuous service to the places they have had. Which is a travesty I think because my children may not be able to take these types of trips when they are my age or even younger. And they won’t get to hang out with the stuptifying weirdo’s and the African-American families and the older Jewish couples that ride the rails. The great American equalizer, for the most part. I mean there still is business class and probably first class, and there are sleeper cars for the overnight stints, like the one I just did from DC to Jacksonville, but the majority opts for the abundantly spacious seats and leg room of the coach class rail. Sleeping was defiantly a challenge, but once you get tired enough you just kind of pass out for a couple of hours.
The changing landscape of the east coast has also been a plus, though I hate to admit that I slept through my favorite parts of the states, southern Mass, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. Now speeding through southern Georgia the massively mixed foliage of pine trees, oak trees, Spanish moss, shrubbery is nice. Much better than railing through the slums of places like Boston, New York City, Newark, Baltimore, DC. Pretty much everything outside of those places has been pleasant. It’s like the parts of America that they don’t want you to see. Parts that you never fly over on your way to big airports. That’s the other part of the Amtrak that I like, the honesty of it all. It isn’t pretentious in any way; it just doesn’t apologize for what you will see. The conductors don’t apologize for who you will be passengers with, nor with their vastly varying flares do you feel like you are being patronized, “water, juice, soda?” “watch your elbows”.
Ah yes, the great American railway system. A tragedy to ever lose, should be preserved for history’s sake. A wanderer’s best friend.
You should at some point in your life take the train down the east coast, or maybe up the east coast (it’s much less expensive on this side) and experience for yourself some of America’s richest culture. Do yourself a favor and ride the Amtrak.
Amtrak to Jacksonville
Families that travel together, stay together. That should be the Amtrak motto; it might get them more business.
So the thing I notice about this train traveling business is that there are a lot of African-Americans that travel the rail system on the southern half of the east coast. And they travel as families. It’s pretty amazing really. There seems to be a whole other side to the culture that I haven’t seen much of. They are mostly kind (even to white people) and it’s almost like it is relaxing or something. There is kind of a calming effect that the train has on people anyway. It’s like magic. (except in the middle of the night when they are going 80 miles an hour over really old tracks and make you rock back and forth so bad you feel like you may fall out of your seat, it feels funny)
I’ve heard rumor of the government cutting spending so much for Amtrak that they are no longer going to have continuous service to the places they have had. Which is a travesty I think because my children may not be able to take these types of trips when they are my age or even younger. And they won’t get to hang out with the stuptifying weirdo’s and the African-American families and the older Jewish couples that ride the rails. The great American equalizer, for the most part. I mean there still is business class and probably first class, and there are sleeper cars for the overnight stints, like the one I just did from DC to Jacksonville, but the majority opts for the abundantly spacious seats and leg room of the coach class rail. Sleeping was defiantly a challenge, but once you get tired enough you just kind of pass out for a couple of hours.
The changing landscape of the east coast has also been a plus, though I hate to admit that I slept through my favorite parts of the states, southern Mass, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. Now speeding through southern Georgia the massively mixed foliage of pine trees, oak trees, Spanish moss, shrubbery is nice. Much better than railing through the slums of places like Boston, New York City, Newark, Baltimore, DC. Pretty much everything outside of those places has been pleasant. It’s like the parts of America that they don’t want you to see. Parts that you never fly over on your way to big airports. That’s the other part of the Amtrak that I like, the honesty of it all. It isn’t pretentious in any way; it just doesn’t apologize for what you will see. The conductors don’t apologize for who you will be passengers with, nor with their vastly varying flares do you feel like you are being patronized, “water, juice, soda?” “watch your elbows”.
Ah yes, the great American railway system. A tragedy to ever lose, should be preserved for history’s sake. A wanderer’s best friend.
You should at some point in your life take the train down the east coast, or maybe up the east coast (it’s much less expensive on this side) and experience for yourself some of America’s richest culture. Do yourself a favor and ride the Amtrak.
Monday, July 04, 2005
big white house, 4th of July, avoiding conflict
moments have brought me to the present state that I am in in a suburb of Washington DC. I am at my friends' house. Or at least the house she is staying at for now. It is this enormous white thing, with an AWESOME yard and a forest in the back yard. I like the back yard. Needless to say. there is an issue of massive avoidance of conflict (on my part). My friend and her mother decided to fight this morning, and the old thing in me that wants to run away and hide from any type of conflict rose up. I hate it. I hate yelling, I hate the sound of peoples voices when they are angry with each other, I hate that it is a mother and her 26 year old daughter that have chosen to give up the fight of deference and kindness to give into the demons inside us that makes us fallen. I hate that I heard the whole thing, and I hate it when my friend talks about it, she says her mom was screaming at her. She wasn't screaming, she was joining in just as if not more ferociously. but she has chosen not to look at that piece of her fallenness. Instead she took the road of victimhood, just as her mother was and still is doing all morning. Ah, family...the reasons are very clear as to why for a very long time I never wanted anything to do with them, or the idea of having one.
But I guess we all do that. I do it all the time. When I am just as guilty, I take on the victims side of things. What is the right way to deal? Especially when we are the children, children that may be more whole than the parent of offense. I never fought with my mom, I just didn't talk to her. I fight with my dad, but mostly because I have a lot of energy about something, or he is being ignorant, and he likes to banter as much as I do. But my mom and me, I don't remember when I ever screamed at her. I think I always felt smarter than her, superior to her, and at the same time, as though I would never add up to who she is. It is a strange dichotomy.
But in all of my time as a daughter, especially now that I am older and hopefully wiser, I feel that it is never okay to scream at your mother. I really have no idea what she has been through in her life. And even if she trys to manipulate me, I don't have to play according to her rules. I am an adult. I make up my own rules, or better yet, I hope it is the right way.
My mother is worth my time. Even if she pisses me off. She is worth me taking the time to cool down and to talk to her like an adult. Like a friend. Honesty about feelings is really hard for me, but its even harder for my mom. But I have watched her blossom into a woman who is able to articulate much more then I ever imagined her to be able to. it has been a LONG HARD road with my mom. We didn't even have a relationship until she moved to Kansas City 5 years ago, and even then, the first year, shoot two years was hell. I would come home after the nightwatch and she would just be getting up, and I would talk to her because I felt obligated to. I never wanted to. And the only thing that would come out of my mouth would be about all of the pain I was discovering in my heart about who she was and my relationship with her or my lack of relationship with her. She would just look at me angry under her placid facade and ask me why I couldn't just forgive and move on. "Because I can't mom. Because if I did I would be kidding my self and would just stuff it all like you have your whole life" I would say things like that. It really hurt her at the time, and we didn't talk a lot, but she began to discover that she had indeed been stuffing her emotions all of her life. And I watched Jesus take this womans life, who, I believed, had destroyed mine, and I watched him turn her into a mother that anyone would be proud to have. I am not ashamed of my mom. I think she is as amazing as every stranger that meets her thinks she is. But they don't know how amazing she is. They didn't know where she came from, from the lifetime of some type of abuse or another, from the shame that shaped the legs she walks on, that gave her a belief that she was worth only the shit that she got her whole life. They don't even know the half of it. I am so proud of my mother. She gives me hope for my life. That even when I get to her age I will still be able to change, because Jesus is in the business of never leaving us alone.
If you are reading this and you have recently been an asshole to your mother, go apologize, even if she started it. Take the low road, be honest, if you have as much maturity as you profess to in your own mind let her make her mistakes and have compassion on her. She doesn't have the understanding of her heart in the way you may have it of your own. The only way that any of us make lasting change is if there is truth and love. My life is a great example of that, and my mothers' an even better one. It's never too late. I'm sorry if you don't have a mother like mine who loves Jesus and who wants, in her latter years, to know him better. But pray for her anyway, and don't play by her rules. You are not bound to those rules. That is the beauty of adulthood. Just because you have familial tendencies, doesn't mean that the power of the Grace of God and his life in you cannot change it.
my prayer for you and myself is that we learn how to take the low road, and honor each other beyond what is offered. My prayer is that we lose the manipulation, and the obligation and the bending to those things, that we get out of the boat in more ways that we can even imagine. Remember, "there is no spoon", well, "there is no boat". The rules we are conviced that we are bound to are not reality. There remains a higher set of values and principles and rules by which we must continue to die to live to.
God help us.
But I guess we all do that. I do it all the time. When I am just as guilty, I take on the victims side of things. What is the right way to deal? Especially when we are the children, children that may be more whole than the parent of offense. I never fought with my mom, I just didn't talk to her. I fight with my dad, but mostly because I have a lot of energy about something, or he is being ignorant, and he likes to banter as much as I do. But my mom and me, I don't remember when I ever screamed at her. I think I always felt smarter than her, superior to her, and at the same time, as though I would never add up to who she is. It is a strange dichotomy.
But in all of my time as a daughter, especially now that I am older and hopefully wiser, I feel that it is never okay to scream at your mother. I really have no idea what she has been through in her life. And even if she trys to manipulate me, I don't have to play according to her rules. I am an adult. I make up my own rules, or better yet, I hope it is the right way.
My mother is worth my time. Even if she pisses me off. She is worth me taking the time to cool down and to talk to her like an adult. Like a friend. Honesty about feelings is really hard for me, but its even harder for my mom. But I have watched her blossom into a woman who is able to articulate much more then I ever imagined her to be able to. it has been a LONG HARD road with my mom. We didn't even have a relationship until she moved to Kansas City 5 years ago, and even then, the first year, shoot two years was hell. I would come home after the nightwatch and she would just be getting up, and I would talk to her because I felt obligated to. I never wanted to. And the only thing that would come out of my mouth would be about all of the pain I was discovering in my heart about who she was and my relationship with her or my lack of relationship with her. She would just look at me angry under her placid facade and ask me why I couldn't just forgive and move on. "Because I can't mom. Because if I did I would be kidding my self and would just stuff it all like you have your whole life" I would say things like that. It really hurt her at the time, and we didn't talk a lot, but she began to discover that she had indeed been stuffing her emotions all of her life. And I watched Jesus take this womans life, who, I believed, had destroyed mine, and I watched him turn her into a mother that anyone would be proud to have. I am not ashamed of my mom. I think she is as amazing as every stranger that meets her thinks she is. But they don't know how amazing she is. They didn't know where she came from, from the lifetime of some type of abuse or another, from the shame that shaped the legs she walks on, that gave her a belief that she was worth only the shit that she got her whole life. They don't even know the half of it. I am so proud of my mother. She gives me hope for my life. That even when I get to her age I will still be able to change, because Jesus is in the business of never leaving us alone.
If you are reading this and you have recently been an asshole to your mother, go apologize, even if she started it. Take the low road, be honest, if you have as much maturity as you profess to in your own mind let her make her mistakes and have compassion on her. She doesn't have the understanding of her heart in the way you may have it of your own. The only way that any of us make lasting change is if there is truth and love. My life is a great example of that, and my mothers' an even better one. It's never too late. I'm sorry if you don't have a mother like mine who loves Jesus and who wants, in her latter years, to know him better. But pray for her anyway, and don't play by her rules. You are not bound to those rules. That is the beauty of adulthood. Just because you have familial tendencies, doesn't mean that the power of the Grace of God and his life in you cannot change it.
my prayer for you and myself is that we learn how to take the low road, and honor each other beyond what is offered. My prayer is that we lose the manipulation, and the obligation and the bending to those things, that we get out of the boat in more ways that we can even imagine. Remember, "there is no spoon", well, "there is no boat". The rules we are conviced that we are bound to are not reality. There remains a higher set of values and principles and rules by which we must continue to die to live to.
God help us.
Friday, July 01, 2005
vermont
July 1, 2005
Windom, New Hampshire
Youth Storm NE, Foster’s house
My journey continues. Through the weekend I will be in New Hampshire, Boston, and will get to Washington DC on Sunday.
Vermont was not what I expected. I anticipated more laughter. Not that I was extremely disappointed or anything, it just didn’t hold the punch of fun I was hoping for. A lot changes in 2 years. That is a no-brainer I guess.
I experienced Jesus in a way I haven’t seen or felt him in a really long time. That was very nice, needless to say. It was good to see old friends and to meet new people too. I must say I really do love Vermont, and I wonder what future the Lord has for me there.
So I woke up this morning with a nasty headache, nausea, and cramps, not a fun combo. Then when I got up I went to the bathroom to blow my nose and as I was merely blowing my nose, my back went out. Not fun. So I am still pretty uncomfortable even though it is not as bad as it was this morning. I couldn’t ‘t believe the combo. I had a glimmering moment of the thought that maybe there was some resistance to me continuing my journey. Come to think of it there were quite a few strange things that happened while in VT.
I was able to escape to one of my favorite places in the earth, the river in Mendon, VT, just up Route 4, it was beautiful! Under a canopy of light translucent green trees and dark comforting conifers. I took 2 rolls of pictures and have yet to develop them…I hope a few turn out. I did a lot of experimenting. I sat next to the voice of the river and missed my friends who are now all scattered abroad, never to return to the same city in which I now live.
I guess I don’t know what is happening on this trip or why I am even on it in the first place, all I know is that I am on it. I have wanted to write much more then I have, but traveling takes a lot out of me, and there are so many people to catch up with, although I am at my friends’ house and I am in the other room typing this.
So in the midst of all of this too, I found time to read a book, and I have begun to have my perspective change about some things, relationships in my life. Wondering about the faithfulness of God in certain aspects of my journey, scared, terribly scared that I have much more responsibility about them than I maybe should be taking. But I am not sure about that either. I may have more thoughts on that later.
I feel as though this is not a very well written update, and so I do apologize, and hope that at some point I will have another moment of inspiration to creatively process my heart in the present moments.
My love to you, pray for me to not be so tasty to Mosquitoes…
Windom, New Hampshire
Youth Storm NE, Foster’s house
My journey continues. Through the weekend I will be in New Hampshire, Boston, and will get to Washington DC on Sunday.
Vermont was not what I expected. I anticipated more laughter. Not that I was extremely disappointed or anything, it just didn’t hold the punch of fun I was hoping for. A lot changes in 2 years. That is a no-brainer I guess.
I experienced Jesus in a way I haven’t seen or felt him in a really long time. That was very nice, needless to say. It was good to see old friends and to meet new people too. I must say I really do love Vermont, and I wonder what future the Lord has for me there.
So I woke up this morning with a nasty headache, nausea, and cramps, not a fun combo. Then when I got up I went to the bathroom to blow my nose and as I was merely blowing my nose, my back went out. Not fun. So I am still pretty uncomfortable even though it is not as bad as it was this morning. I couldn’t ‘t believe the combo. I had a glimmering moment of the thought that maybe there was some resistance to me continuing my journey. Come to think of it there were quite a few strange things that happened while in VT.
I was able to escape to one of my favorite places in the earth, the river in Mendon, VT, just up Route 4, it was beautiful! Under a canopy of light translucent green trees and dark comforting conifers. I took 2 rolls of pictures and have yet to develop them…I hope a few turn out. I did a lot of experimenting. I sat next to the voice of the river and missed my friends who are now all scattered abroad, never to return to the same city in which I now live.
I guess I don’t know what is happening on this trip or why I am even on it in the first place, all I know is that I am on it. I have wanted to write much more then I have, but traveling takes a lot out of me, and there are so many people to catch up with, although I am at my friends’ house and I am in the other room typing this.
So in the midst of all of this too, I found time to read a book, and I have begun to have my perspective change about some things, relationships in my life. Wondering about the faithfulness of God in certain aspects of my journey, scared, terribly scared that I have much more responsibility about them than I maybe should be taking. But I am not sure about that either. I may have more thoughts on that later.
I feel as though this is not a very well written update, and so I do apologize, and hope that at some point I will have another moment of inspiration to creatively process my heart in the present moments.
My love to you, pray for me to not be so tasty to Mosquitoes…
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
sub-par goodbyes and Nouwen
The quality of my goodbyes has been sub-par as of late. How do you adequately say goodbye to someone? How do you tell them what they have meant to you, how they have affected your life in positive ways without making it feel awkward and uncomfortable platonically? How are we ever to relate on real gut honest and honoring levels if we are so stuck by the status quo, the fear of becoming known and inappropriately intimate? Lord knows I don’t want that to be a part of my life, but it is. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to distance my heart properly and how to risk and open up safely either. I watch people around me that are seemingly successful at it, but than I wonder about them. Are they scrambling around on the inside just as much as I am trying to figure out who is safe? I am highly suspicious that I may not be the only one.
Let me quote Henri J. M. Nouwen from “The Inner Voice of Love”.
Okay. Though I love Henri, and writers like him, sometimes they make the concepts they are trying to get across more difficult to understand or to live out. So! This morning when I was waking up, my mind wandering, I stopped it and said, “OK GOD! Here I am, lonely and in pain. Help me.” That’s all I got out, it’s all I really knew how to get out because what else do you say to the Being who knows you through and through?? I think all He wants is our admission of need of Him, and then the courage to stay there. Because all He really wants is ALL of me. I mean. It’s that simple I guess. If that is simple.
The last line of that quote is the kicker: “Dare to stay with your pain, and trust in God’s promise to you.” It is daring to do that, I know! Because even on my most strong risk taking days when I feel the most brave, the daunting task of bearing with Jesus and my heart through pain seems almost overwhelming and undoable. But I guess maybe the secret behind it is to remain open and to try not to stuff.
Trusting, waiting, hoping…big, big heart words. Seems difficult to put into practice when life throws everything its got at you. But what else is there to do? At the end of the day, I am less of a human if I have not made those words more of a part of me. I want to be human. The most human I can be. With my heart fully online with all the capacity is has to love and give and heal and forgive and hope and trust. I wonder…
Let me quote Henri J. M. Nouwen from “The Inner Voice of Love”.
Stay with Your Pain
“When you experience the deep pain of loneliness, it is understandable that your thoughts go out to the person who was able to take that loneliness away, even if only for a moment. When, underneath all the praise and acclaim, you feel a huge absence that makes everything look useless, your heart wants only one thing—to be with the person who once was able to dispel these frightful emotions. But it is the absence itself, the emptiness within you, that you have to be willing to experience, not the one who could temporarily take it away.
It is not easy to stay with your loneliness. The temptation is to nurse your pain or to escape into fantasies about people who will take it away. But when you can acknowledge your loneliness in a safe, contained place, you make your pain available for God’s healing.
God does not want your loneliness; God wants to touch you in a way that permanently fulfills your deepest need. It is important that you dare to stay with your pain and allow it to be there. You have to own your loneliness and trust that it will not always be there. The pain you suffer now is meant to put you in touch with the place where you most need healing, your very heart. The person who was able to touch that place has revealed to you your pearl of great price.
It is understandable that everything you did, are doing, or plan to do seems completely meaningless compared to that pearl. That pearl is the experience of being fully loved. When you experience deep loneliness, you are willing to give up everything in exchange for healing. But no human being can heal that pain. Still, people will be sent to you to mediate God’s healing, and they will be able to offer you the deep sense of belonging that you desire and that gives meaning to all you do.
Dare to stay with your pain, and trust in God’s promise to you.”
Okay. Though I love Henri, and writers like him, sometimes they make the concepts they are trying to get across more difficult to understand or to live out. So! This morning when I was waking up, my mind wandering, I stopped it and said, “OK GOD! Here I am, lonely and in pain. Help me.” That’s all I got out, it’s all I really knew how to get out because what else do you say to the Being who knows you through and through?? I think all He wants is our admission of need of Him, and then the courage to stay there. Because all He really wants is ALL of me. I mean. It’s that simple I guess. If that is simple.
The last line of that quote is the kicker: “Dare to stay with your pain, and trust in God’s promise to you.” It is daring to do that, I know! Because even on my most strong risk taking days when I feel the most brave, the daunting task of bearing with Jesus and my heart through pain seems almost overwhelming and undoable. But I guess maybe the secret behind it is to remain open and to try not to stuff.
Trusting, waiting, hoping…big, big heart words. Seems difficult to put into practice when life throws everything its got at you. But what else is there to do? At the end of the day, I am less of a human if I have not made those words more of a part of me. I want to be human. The most human I can be. With my heart fully online with all the capacity is has to love and give and heal and forgive and hope and trust. I wonder…
veracity/voracity
I have 2 dimes on my desk near my keyboard. My newly manicured fingers reach for them mindlessly as I rock back and forth in my black office chair, soon to be packed away in its original box because I am done with this blasted job.
It was a good idea at first. Yeah! I’ll be a “travel agent”! sounds like a lot of fun. I know a lot of missionaries that need my help. A year later I sit here wondering at what I have done to myself outside of spending my life savings on doing a job that I never really believed in from the beginning.
That’s a terrible fault of mine. If I don’t believe in something enough, wild horses couldn’t make me be faithful. It’s the curse of being a Gemini I guess. Must have entertainment, must be fascinated, must be new and exciting. Not always true I hope. Maybe that is why Jesus is talking to me about dreaming again. About living out those dreams that have been there for an awful long time, now that I am 26 and still formally uneducated. On the other hand, if my curiosity isn’t satiated about something than I become obsessive to the point of annoyance and will not be quieted until I have what I want, again a terrible fault of mine. But once I have it, it is no longer a novelty and I don’t really want to play with it anymore. Oh, I might eventually come back around to appreciating it, but unfortunately my compulsivity gets the best of me.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah yes, my present job, that will no longer be my present job after Friday. I will be traveling though. Something I love to do. Never got to do as a travel agent because everyone else needed to do it before me. Not so good for a person with massive wanderlust issues. To be honest, I don’t really want to be gone as long as I will be gone this summer though. 6 weeks in toll, my wandering heart might be settling down finally, now that I have a place of rest for my soul.
There is a roly-poly walking down my wall. We have had a roly-poly invasion here at the office. They like it in here. I like them too because it reminds me of my childhood. These days I pretty much like anything that reminds me of my childhood.
This is the most geminiic ( a newly coined word by yours truly to evoke a sense of the Gemini reality of paradoxical and scattered living pronounced: JEM-in-ei-IK) write I have ever had so far. This is how my mind works, constantly. All over the place all of the time.
So 6 weeks of travel. Here are my plans, I will keep you updated, and I hope to include pictures of my travels as I go along.
I am flying to Albany, NY next Wednesday and I am going to visit my friend Katherine near Rochester for a day or two, than I am taking the train (there will be a lot of Amtrak involved in my journeys) to Rutland Vermont to hang out with some friends, than either catching a ride, or taking the train to Burlington Vermont (super cool town) to hang out with another gang of friends, than I will be training down to Brattleboro, VT where hopefully my friend from Keene, New Hampshire will come pick me up so I can hang out with him for a day or two, than on to either Manchester, NH or Lawrence, Mass to chill with the YStorm crew. Than Amtrak to Washington DC, though today I was thinking if I go through Jersey I might stop to see my long lost brother whom I have not spoken with since I was 18, I’ll keep you updated on that, it may be a very emotional thing. Not may be, will be. Then I will be in DC with my friend Amanda for 4th of July week and then finally on my way, via Amtrak, to Jacksonville, Florida for my best friend’s wedding. Then I will be flying home just in time for my parents to be packing a uhaul truck and hopping in it with them, and my long lost sister who I haven’t seen for over 4 years and driving them to Washington (the State) and hanging out for a week or two there, and by the beginning of August I hope to be home back in my cute little colorful apartment, safe and sound.
Holy Cow.
So if you are in the vicinity of any of these stops, let me know and I will come visit you (if you are presently a friend that is, I do not meet strangers abroad).
That is all.
It was a good idea at first. Yeah! I’ll be a “travel agent”! sounds like a lot of fun. I know a lot of missionaries that need my help. A year later I sit here wondering at what I have done to myself outside of spending my life savings on doing a job that I never really believed in from the beginning.
That’s a terrible fault of mine. If I don’t believe in something enough, wild horses couldn’t make me be faithful. It’s the curse of being a Gemini I guess. Must have entertainment, must be fascinated, must be new and exciting. Not always true I hope. Maybe that is why Jesus is talking to me about dreaming again. About living out those dreams that have been there for an awful long time, now that I am 26 and still formally uneducated. On the other hand, if my curiosity isn’t satiated about something than I become obsessive to the point of annoyance and will not be quieted until I have what I want, again a terrible fault of mine. But once I have it, it is no longer a novelty and I don’t really want to play with it anymore. Oh, I might eventually come back around to appreciating it, but unfortunately my compulsivity gets the best of me.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah yes, my present job, that will no longer be my present job after Friday. I will be traveling though. Something I love to do. Never got to do as a travel agent because everyone else needed to do it before me. Not so good for a person with massive wanderlust issues. To be honest, I don’t really want to be gone as long as I will be gone this summer though. 6 weeks in toll, my wandering heart might be settling down finally, now that I have a place of rest for my soul.
There is a roly-poly walking down my wall. We have had a roly-poly invasion here at the office. They like it in here. I like them too because it reminds me of my childhood. These days I pretty much like anything that reminds me of my childhood.
This is the most geminiic ( a newly coined word by yours truly to evoke a sense of the Gemini reality of paradoxical and scattered living pronounced: JEM-in-ei-IK) write I have ever had so far. This is how my mind works, constantly. All over the place all of the time.
So 6 weeks of travel. Here are my plans, I will keep you updated, and I hope to include pictures of my travels as I go along.
I am flying to Albany, NY next Wednesday and I am going to visit my friend Katherine near Rochester for a day or two, than I am taking the train (there will be a lot of Amtrak involved in my journeys) to Rutland Vermont to hang out with some friends, than either catching a ride, or taking the train to Burlington Vermont (super cool town) to hang out with another gang of friends, than I will be training down to Brattleboro, VT where hopefully my friend from Keene, New Hampshire will come pick me up so I can hang out with him for a day or two, than on to either Manchester, NH or Lawrence, Mass to chill with the YStorm crew. Than Amtrak to Washington DC, though today I was thinking if I go through Jersey I might stop to see my long lost brother whom I have not spoken with since I was 18, I’ll keep you updated on that, it may be a very emotional thing. Not may be, will be. Then I will be in DC with my friend Amanda for 4th of July week and then finally on my way, via Amtrak, to Jacksonville, Florida for my best friend’s wedding. Then I will be flying home just in time for my parents to be packing a uhaul truck and hopping in it with them, and my long lost sister who I haven’t seen for over 4 years and driving them to Washington (the State) and hanging out for a week or two there, and by the beginning of August I hope to be home back in my cute little colorful apartment, safe and sound.
Holy Cow.
So if you are in the vicinity of any of these stops, let me know and I will come visit you (if you are presently a friend that is, I do not meet strangers abroad).
That is all.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Josiah Tate Nelson
When I set out to write something I do strange things. First I lower my chair so that I can be closer to the keyboard…than I scroll through the list of fonts to choose just the right one for my mood today, I chose Poor Richard today. Than I make the font a nice big readable size 14 and I set to writing.
So now that all the pieces are in place…
My friend left today. He’s gone to the west coast to pursue his life calling of helping Jesus heal people. I have much emotion about the turning of proverbial pages if you will, the passing of seasons, the ending of chapters… We have been through a lot in the last 3 months shy of 3 years.
He sauntered into my life a really confused boy who thought that if he could just look good and look like he was always having fun that no one would see the “cavernous depravity” that wracked his soul, mind, heart, spirit. I am astounded at what God can do to a human in such a short amount of time. He opened up his heart in ways he never knew he could and found life there. He opened his life to people on levels he didn’t even know existed and he turned and turned and turned until he discovered that he had been twisted into a horrible disfiguring knot of humanity and then he broke. He broke at the sight of his own bloody mess and found love waiting for him there. Love that began to untie and untwist and undo the years of injustice wrought on him by life and poor broken people who never knew any better. He all of the sudden began seeing with new eyes, it was like he woke up to these amazing depths that had always been there, but just could never have been recognized before. One day my friend got a real glimpse into eternity and he has never been the same again. I don’t know if it was the drizzly night we stood outside of a kinko’s on the Plaza and I talked to him about the God of Revelations, the one enthroned in light, and with fire in his eyes…etc. but at some point he got it. At some point he began seeing that he had an eternal purpose on the earth and that he had a voice that Jesus gave only to him, and that he had a role to fill so that people who were broken like himself could find healing too. He found confidence, and OHHH what a difference that made in him. He began giving out of himself and speaking life into the hearts of people all around him. He brought life and hope to strangers to whom he served coffee. And best of all, he didn’t know it. He had no idea how his life was affecting the people around him. He was never aware of how his negative actions affected people as well. But Jesus is sharing that with him now. He is showing him how to walk a life worthy of his calling, fully pleasing his Father in the process.
Now Josiah Nelson is walking tall and straight, a man, full of life, purpose, and the tenacity to see it happen in his life for the glory of his Father, out of my life. Congratulations Josiah, you have done well. You have honored your Father in heaven. My prayer is that you never forget your chains, that you never forget the sound of His hearts pleasure over you, that you never forget who your friends are, and that you always walk upright before God and Man.
You are amazing, I love you. I am so honored to know you, to have been a part of the transformation. I am so excited to see what comes out of you in the years to come. The mountain isn’t conquered yet! Keep going. I am SO for you! And I am sorry that I could not articulate this to your face. Forgive my weakness in expressing with spoken words.
So now that all the pieces are in place…
My friend left today. He’s gone to the west coast to pursue his life calling of helping Jesus heal people. I have much emotion about the turning of proverbial pages if you will, the passing of seasons, the ending of chapters… We have been through a lot in the last 3 months shy of 3 years.
He sauntered into my life a really confused boy who thought that if he could just look good and look like he was always having fun that no one would see the “cavernous depravity” that wracked his soul, mind, heart, spirit. I am astounded at what God can do to a human in such a short amount of time. He opened up his heart in ways he never knew he could and found life there. He opened his life to people on levels he didn’t even know existed and he turned and turned and turned until he discovered that he had been twisted into a horrible disfiguring knot of humanity and then he broke. He broke at the sight of his own bloody mess and found love waiting for him there. Love that began to untie and untwist and undo the years of injustice wrought on him by life and poor broken people who never knew any better. He all of the sudden began seeing with new eyes, it was like he woke up to these amazing depths that had always been there, but just could never have been recognized before. One day my friend got a real glimpse into eternity and he has never been the same again. I don’t know if it was the drizzly night we stood outside of a kinko’s on the Plaza and I talked to him about the God of Revelations, the one enthroned in light, and with fire in his eyes…etc. but at some point he got it. At some point he began seeing that he had an eternal purpose on the earth and that he had a voice that Jesus gave only to him, and that he had a role to fill so that people who were broken like himself could find healing too. He found confidence, and OHHH what a difference that made in him. He began giving out of himself and speaking life into the hearts of people all around him. He brought life and hope to strangers to whom he served coffee. And best of all, he didn’t know it. He had no idea how his life was affecting the people around him. He was never aware of how his negative actions affected people as well. But Jesus is sharing that with him now. He is showing him how to walk a life worthy of his calling, fully pleasing his Father in the process.
Now Josiah Nelson is walking tall and straight, a man, full of life, purpose, and the tenacity to see it happen in his life for the glory of his Father, out of my life. Congratulations Josiah, you have done well. You have honored your Father in heaven. My prayer is that you never forget your chains, that you never forget the sound of His hearts pleasure over you, that you never forget who your friends are, and that you always walk upright before God and Man.
You are amazing, I love you. I am so honored to know you, to have been a part of the transformation. I am so excited to see what comes out of you in the years to come. The mountain isn’t conquered yet! Keep going. I am SO for you! And I am sorry that I could not articulate this to your face. Forgive my weakness in expressing with spoken words.
Monday, June 06, 2005
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!
Birthdays are a strange thing. This year I have made mine a big deal on purpose. Because every other year I am always disappointed for what ever reason, and my feelings get hurt. My birthday is the one day of the year, every year that I can feel the most rejection and pain. It’s amazing.
This year is different because I am taking a different stance on the whole thing. I am an adult now, it’s my job to make it what I want to make it. So I’m throwing myself a party (I don’t really want to do it again…hint, hint) I hope to God that I am not an emotional wreck tonight. As it seems that I get in this weird mood when people try to celebrate my life. It’s like I want it so bad, but when it happens I am so weirded out by it I shut down and get embarrassed and want to run way and hid in my closet. STRANGE!!! I am not going to be ruled by that anymore. I am grown up and can handle people loving me and enjoying me because THEY want to.
At least I secretly hope they want to.
I’ve been thinking about the primal need in humans (outside of the cloths, food, and shelter deal) to have impact and intimacy. I’ve been thinking about my life and the direction it will take in the future. Praying that I will become more alive as the years go by (a major reversal from what has been going on) and that my aliveness will rub off on the people around me and they will want to become alive as well. I think before that can happen I need to find where my fountain head is. He said “River’s of Living Water” right? It has been a long time since I felt that belly thing. I miss it to be honest. I miss His voice in my head, in my heart, the fire in my belly. I miss those to real feelings that I used to get when He would come close to me, or at least when I became aware of His presence (since He is always close). I miss my eager heart to do anything and go anywhere for Him. To speak any truth, to pray loud prayers unabashedly, to sing my guts out until I manifest and get so hot that the people around me feel the heat radiating in waves, I miss the lead blanket that I call His glory, talk about comfort. I know He isn’t in the earthquake, and that his voice isn’t in the storm, but that it is a still small whisper, but you know what! Sometimes I really liked hearing God so clearly that it shook me to my very core, to obedience, to awe.
Anyway, so I’ve been thinking about intimacy and impact. A core Master’s Commission theme, (thanks Lloyd and Michael) it has changed the way I think about my life and how it is suppose to look. I see that impact can best happen when you are in your ‘PLACE’, running your ‘RACE’. And that’s my big question these days. Where is my PLACE? What RACE am I suppose to be in? I have all the pat answers (I’ve been a Christian for a LOOOONG time) but they are not helping. I need real in your face answers about my life calling, vocation, blah, blah, blah. Of course the one pat answer that will really get me somewhere in this whole thing is found in Psalm 27,
1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall.
3 Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then will I be confident.
4 One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple.
5 For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.
6 Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy; I will sing and make music to the LORD.
7 Hear my voice when I call, O LORD; be merciful to me and answer me.
8 My heart says of you, "Seek his face!" Your face, LORD, I will seek.
9 Do not hide your face from me, do not turn your servant away in anger; you have been my helper. Do not reject me or forsake me, O God my Savior.
10 Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me.
11 Teach me your way, O LORD; lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors.
12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes, for false witnesses rise up against me, breathing out violence.
13 I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.
14 Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.
The end says it all: Wait. Be strong, take heart, wait. So that’s what I’ll do. It’s what I’ve been trying to do. I’ll hear His voice again some day. I’ll feel the fire again someday, maybe not until I’m back in the place where I am from, his burning heart. I crave it so bad sometimes.
GOD!!! I CRAVE YOUR HEART!! I CRAVE ETERNITY!!! COME BACK SOON!!!!!! I WANT TO COME HOME FOR GOOD!!!
So how does that work? The craving for eternity and the reality of it to be ever present in my life, and the ashes and dust reality of life on earth?? Not that I hate living or anything, I actually enjoy it most of the time, but there are moments when I all of the sudden realize that I have forgotten about what I am really here for. I want to live in both places at the same time, can I do that?? People say you can, but I have such a hard time believing that I can do it. Maybe its all back at the fountain head. Maybe that is why He is gathering me from all my scattered places into one centralized throbbing place full of life so that I can remember who I was from before time began…while my residence was in the flame.
I hope that if you read this, you will realize that that place inside of you that aches uncontrollably sometimes is that craving for your eternal home and I hope you pay attention to it.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!! THANKS FOR LIFE JESUS! THANKS FOR BEING WITH ME THROUGH ALL OF IT!!
Yet You are He who brought me forth from the womb;
You made me trust when upon my mother's breasts.
Upon You I was cast from birth;
You have been my God from my mother's womb.
This year is different because I am taking a different stance on the whole thing. I am an adult now, it’s my job to make it what I want to make it. So I’m throwing myself a party (I don’t really want to do it again…hint, hint) I hope to God that I am not an emotional wreck tonight. As it seems that I get in this weird mood when people try to celebrate my life. It’s like I want it so bad, but when it happens I am so weirded out by it I shut down and get embarrassed and want to run way and hid in my closet. STRANGE!!! I am not going to be ruled by that anymore. I am grown up and can handle people loving me and enjoying me because THEY want to.
At least I secretly hope they want to.
I’ve been thinking about the primal need in humans (outside of the cloths, food, and shelter deal) to have impact and intimacy. I’ve been thinking about my life and the direction it will take in the future. Praying that I will become more alive as the years go by (a major reversal from what has been going on) and that my aliveness will rub off on the people around me and they will want to become alive as well. I think before that can happen I need to find where my fountain head is. He said “River’s of Living Water” right? It has been a long time since I felt that belly thing. I miss it to be honest. I miss His voice in my head, in my heart, the fire in my belly. I miss those to real feelings that I used to get when He would come close to me, or at least when I became aware of His presence (since He is always close). I miss my eager heart to do anything and go anywhere for Him. To speak any truth, to pray loud prayers unabashedly, to sing my guts out until I manifest and get so hot that the people around me feel the heat radiating in waves, I miss the lead blanket that I call His glory, talk about comfort. I know He isn’t in the earthquake, and that his voice isn’t in the storm, but that it is a still small whisper, but you know what! Sometimes I really liked hearing God so clearly that it shook me to my very core, to obedience, to awe.
Anyway, so I’ve been thinking about intimacy and impact. A core Master’s Commission theme, (thanks Lloyd and Michael) it has changed the way I think about my life and how it is suppose to look. I see that impact can best happen when you are in your ‘PLACE’, running your ‘RACE’. And that’s my big question these days. Where is my PLACE? What RACE am I suppose to be in? I have all the pat answers (I’ve been a Christian for a LOOOONG time) but they are not helping. I need real in your face answers about my life calling, vocation, blah, blah, blah. Of course the one pat answer that will really get me somewhere in this whole thing is found in Psalm 27,
1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall.
3 Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then will I be confident.
4 One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple.
5 For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.
6 Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy; I will sing and make music to the LORD.
7 Hear my voice when I call, O LORD; be merciful to me and answer me.
8 My heart says of you, "Seek his face!" Your face, LORD, I will seek.
9 Do not hide your face from me, do not turn your servant away in anger; you have been my helper. Do not reject me or forsake me, O God my Savior.
10 Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me.
11 Teach me your way, O LORD; lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors.
12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes, for false witnesses rise up against me, breathing out violence.
13 I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.
14 Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.
The end says it all: Wait. Be strong, take heart, wait. So that’s what I’ll do. It’s what I’ve been trying to do. I’ll hear His voice again some day. I’ll feel the fire again someday, maybe not until I’m back in the place where I am from, his burning heart. I crave it so bad sometimes.
GOD!!! I CRAVE YOUR HEART!! I CRAVE ETERNITY!!! COME BACK SOON!!!!!! I WANT TO COME HOME FOR GOOD!!!
So how does that work? The craving for eternity and the reality of it to be ever present in my life, and the ashes and dust reality of life on earth?? Not that I hate living or anything, I actually enjoy it most of the time, but there are moments when I all of the sudden realize that I have forgotten about what I am really here for. I want to live in both places at the same time, can I do that?? People say you can, but I have such a hard time believing that I can do it. Maybe its all back at the fountain head. Maybe that is why He is gathering me from all my scattered places into one centralized throbbing place full of life so that I can remember who I was from before time began…while my residence was in the flame.
I hope that if you read this, you will realize that that place inside of you that aches uncontrollably sometimes is that craving for your eternal home and I hope you pay attention to it.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!! THANKS FOR LIFE JESUS! THANKS FOR BEING WITH ME THROUGH ALL OF IT!!
Yet You are He who brought me forth from the womb;
You made me trust when upon my mother's breasts.
Upon You I was cast from birth;
You have been my God from my mother's womb.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Attempts at Pilfering Monies in Romania
Okay, so the story goes like this:
Memorial Day Weekend. Big money spending weekend for me. I'm painting my apartment. Someone should have talked me out of it, though I am sure I wouldn't have listened. My paint bill alone was over $200. HOLY SHNIKE'S! Why do I have to LOVE color so much?? Why can't I just live in a bland place like the majority of the world?? Wouldn't it be grand if they invented a machine that sucked the last layer of paint off the walls and filtered it at the same time so you could use it again in the next place you lived...If "they" reads this, let me know if you ever get around to inventing such a wonderful machine.
Anyway, this is not about my expansive paint bill. This is about fraudulant activity. If you EVER get an email from your bank, paypal, ebay, or someother bank, claiming they need your account information because of some fraudlant activity, DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, CLICK ON THE LINK PROVIDED. Call the customer service of the said provider. I think I must have done it the first time I got the email from Ebay, because some jackass in Romania was trying to get money out of an ATM there. Thank goodness for Visa Check Card Security...they decided to not give that person my money, but on the flip side they had to close my account...hense the problem with some massive paint/ing supplies purchases. Not that I couldn't cover it with my credit cards, but I was just annoyed. Actually, it wasn't until I was at Starbucks trying to get my quad-venti-lite-ice(d)-latte that the 4 dollar trans didn't go through. I was thinking, "no, you don't realize how much money I have in my account. I could buy a lot more latte's than just this one...what the hell?"
Speaking of Starbucks and my favorite drink...do any barista's that I know that work there know how to get a good iced latte now that they have those blasted machines that take all of the art out of espresso making??? I try not to go to those machined slaves, but everyonce in a while...I need to give up coffee anyway. Is it hypocritical to not drink coffee and want to own a coffee shop? (Though you must know that it will be oh so much more than just another mere coffee shop).
Anyway...it's my birthday in 6 days, my sister's is today. She is 31! Happy Birthday Patty!! Holy Crap! Its her golden birthday! Mine was when I was 6. lame.
Memorial Day Weekend. Big money spending weekend for me. I'm painting my apartment. Someone should have talked me out of it, though I am sure I wouldn't have listened. My paint bill alone was over $200. HOLY SHNIKE'S! Why do I have to LOVE color so much?? Why can't I just live in a bland place like the majority of the world?? Wouldn't it be grand if they invented a machine that sucked the last layer of paint off the walls and filtered it at the same time so you could use it again in the next place you lived...If "they" reads this, let me know if you ever get around to inventing such a wonderful machine.
Anyway, this is not about my expansive paint bill. This is about fraudulant activity. If you EVER get an email from your bank, paypal, ebay, or someother bank, claiming they need your account information because of some fraudlant activity, DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, CLICK ON THE LINK PROVIDED. Call the customer service of the said provider. I think I must have done it the first time I got the email from Ebay, because some jackass in Romania was trying to get money out of an ATM there. Thank goodness for Visa Check Card Security...they decided to not give that person my money, but on the flip side they had to close my account...hense the problem with some massive paint/ing supplies purchases. Not that I couldn't cover it with my credit cards, but I was just annoyed. Actually, it wasn't until I was at Starbucks trying to get my quad-venti-lite-ice(d)-latte that the 4 dollar trans didn't go through. I was thinking, "no, you don't realize how much money I have in my account. I could buy a lot more latte's than just this one...what the hell?"
Speaking of Starbucks and my favorite drink...do any barista's that I know that work there know how to get a good iced latte now that they have those blasted machines that take all of the art out of espresso making??? I try not to go to those machined slaves, but everyonce in a while...I need to give up coffee anyway. Is it hypocritical to not drink coffee and want to own a coffee shop? (Though you must know that it will be oh so much more than just another mere coffee shop).
Anyway...it's my birthday in 6 days, my sister's is today. She is 31! Happy Birthday Patty!! Holy Crap! Its her golden birthday! Mine was when I was 6. lame.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
lacking social grace and assurance b : causing embarrassment: (an awkward moment)
Ok,
I must confess that I was not expecting, for some reason, to meet people randomly through my day that know me and have read my blog. It’s quite disconcerting actually. The whole thing is very risky. Let your thoughts your heart out there for people to see and get feedback from them? Doesn’t sound very comfortable to me…no sir!! I ran into someone today that asked me if I was the Lady of the Woods (they added the s). I said I was, and I hightailed it out of there as fast as I could. I felt so awkward. I wasn’t very nice to them either. I felt so dumb. It’s amazing what insecurities being known in a certain way come up unexpectedly.
It’s an unwelcome turn of events, but somehow I think I must GET the hell over it! Even knowing that my family can read this is extremely hard to bear. But I must say that I am willing to go through the awkwardness of it all to get to the other side of possibly not hiding as much as I do under my tough façade.
Either way, if you are reading this, and you know me, or you think you may run into me ever, make me uncomfortable and talk to me about it.
Thanks
I must confess that I was not expecting, for some reason, to meet people randomly through my day that know me and have read my blog. It’s quite disconcerting actually. The whole thing is very risky. Let your thoughts your heart out there for people to see and get feedback from them? Doesn’t sound very comfortable to me…no sir!! I ran into someone today that asked me if I was the Lady of the Woods (they added the s). I said I was, and I hightailed it out of there as fast as I could. I felt so awkward. I wasn’t very nice to them either. I felt so dumb. It’s amazing what insecurities being known in a certain way come up unexpectedly.
It’s an unwelcome turn of events, but somehow I think I must GET the hell over it! Even knowing that my family can read this is extremely hard to bear. But I must say that I am willing to go through the awkwardness of it all to get to the other side of possibly not hiding as much as I do under my tough façade.
Either way, if you are reading this, and you know me, or you think you may run into me ever, make me uncomfortable and talk to me about it.
Thanks
Monday, May 23, 2005
The Golden Age of Radio, Brown Rice, and Kim Chee
I bought some old time radio cd’s from Price Chopper today. I bought Bob Hope, Dick Tracy, The Shadow, Bing Crosby, The Lone Ranger, and Jack Benny. I did it all for memories sake. Why? Because some of my happiest childhood memories were when on Sunday nights after evening church I would come home with my family and my dad would make brown rice to go with his Kim Chee. I would wait and wait, and it seemed like it toooooook forever for that rice to be done. My dad and I would go downstairs to my parents bedroom. He would read me the funnies and do all the right voices and I would ask for bites of the then very hot marinated cabbage delight and brown rice that was always perfect when my dad made it. And then right at the right time, he would lean over to the radio that was next to his side of the bed on the oak desk that I now have next to me as I type this, and he would dial in the radio station just in time for the theme music to be heard for the old time radio classics. I would sit as close as I could get to him, and let my imagination go with the flow of the cheesy mystery/drama’s and comedy’s of the “Golden Age of Radio”. I would wonder as a small child how they got the doors to creak like that, and the steps of people coming to sound like that, and why couldn’t the people in the story hear the footsteps either?? All these sounds and words fed my little imagination as well as the closeness of my dad. We rarely talked, we just sat and listened. After it was done he would always say, “okay, Putt-Putt, time for bed” and give me a swat on the butt as I scrambled off the bed to run upstairs. I had completely forgotten those evenings until now. Talk about a great set of memories! Even when I was in my teen years and angry with my parents, there would be Sunday night’s that my dad would knock on the ceiling, which was the floor of my room, and holler that Old Time Radio was on. I would tune it into my clock radio and fall asleep to the sound of a creepy narrator saying what would be on next time. I loved it though I don’t know if I ever let on how much I did. I’m so glad to have that as a part of my personal history. I am a richer person because of it.
Thanks Dad.
Thanks Dad.
Friday, May 13, 2005
I hate the word Co-Dependency
I hate the word Co-Dependency. I hate that I fit into the very definition of that word, well, outside of the dictionary making it primarily about alcohol and heroin addiction…, and I hate it even more that my relationships tend to look like those that are described in the:
“You’re CO-Dependant! That sucks for you, pay me 13.95 and I’ll fix it for you, Subtitled: HA SUCKER! JUST KIDDING, I have no idea how to fix this” books.
So there you have it. Anyone’s radar up yet? I know mine is. I hate the fact that I can pick out who I would have a bad relationship with based on how attracted to them I am upon first meeting, in order to later, recant every nice and thoughtful thing I said because I all of the sudden realize that I am in YET ANOTHER one of these dreadfully labeled things. What’s it called? Oh, yeah. A relationship with another human.
So I was talking to a fellow co-dependant (he’s just discovered the horrible truth about his style of relating) and obviously we are trying to dance around the possibility of us becoming such. We feel healthy right now, but oh Lordy! Watch out! A little too much time together and WHAMMO! It’s lights out for yet another possible yet not because well…”you’re not my ideal, and I can’t handle the fact that you are not perfect in the one way that I want you to be perfect, even though everything else fits like a glove” (I’m not bitter.) Anyway! I’ve come to the satisfying conclusion that the world, my world, did not fall around my ears when I found out I had this relational disease. And that in fact probably 99.99% of all other humans on the earth potentially struggle with it in some form or another. Therefore I must not worry my pretty head about the small day to day interactions with fellow fallen image bearers. Because in the wild scheme of things: humans are humans. And yes, I can hear Josiah Nelson already, we DO need to pursue whole healthy relating styles that are Christ centered at their core, as well as being true and authentic in their expression. I concur with that statement Josiah, I’m glad I said it first… ;-)
Because isn’t the problem in the fact that we are all trying to pursue a new version of Christ centered living that includes the all essential element of community (what ever the hell that means)? Isn’t the problem that in the increased awareness of community things that we begin to realize slowly but surely that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory, but we died, and our life is now hidden with Christ in God? When Christ who is our life appears, we shall also appear with him in glory. I know I am mixing verses, I just really like that verse... Fallen, but being redeemed. That’s the process, and not being afraid of it just being merely that has been my journey as of late. Sure I’m going to screw up in my co-dependant ways again, but I’ll get up again, and I’ll live and I’ll die again.
In my old age, I have discovered that the only thing I really know is that I don’t know anything, and that I don’t have to be afraid of that fact, because no one else really knows either. We are all just hanging out like amebas in a Petri dish going from here to there, bumping into each other. I obviously don’t think that we are alone in the process, but sometimes that’s how I feel, or actually what it looks like to me.
The big point, the massive struggle for me is, “LIVE!” Live fully, embrace the pain of hope and shun fear at every step, cause it’s just waiting there in the shadows to pull me back in to the bubble that was always too small for me, to put back on fetters that have rubbed scars into my wrists and ankles, and made me small.
I have more to say about this, it’s still forming in my growing brain/heart connection. It’ll have a vein soon.
Thanks for wading through this.
“You’re CO-Dependant! That sucks for you, pay me 13.95 and I’ll fix it for you, Subtitled: HA SUCKER! JUST KIDDING, I have no idea how to fix this” books.
So there you have it. Anyone’s radar up yet? I know mine is. I hate the fact that I can pick out who I would have a bad relationship with based on how attracted to them I am upon first meeting, in order to later, recant every nice and thoughtful thing I said because I all of the sudden realize that I am in YET ANOTHER one of these dreadfully labeled things. What’s it called? Oh, yeah. A relationship with another human.
So I was talking to a fellow co-dependant (he’s just discovered the horrible truth about his style of relating) and obviously we are trying to dance around the possibility of us becoming such. We feel healthy right now, but oh Lordy! Watch out! A little too much time together and WHAMMO! It’s lights out for yet another possible yet not because well…”you’re not my ideal, and I can’t handle the fact that you are not perfect in the one way that I want you to be perfect, even though everything else fits like a glove” (I’m not bitter.) Anyway! I’ve come to the satisfying conclusion that the world, my world, did not fall around my ears when I found out I had this relational disease. And that in fact probably 99.99% of all other humans on the earth potentially struggle with it in some form or another. Therefore I must not worry my pretty head about the small day to day interactions with fellow fallen image bearers. Because in the wild scheme of things: humans are humans. And yes, I can hear Josiah Nelson already, we DO need to pursue whole healthy relating styles that are Christ centered at their core, as well as being true and authentic in their expression. I concur with that statement Josiah, I’m glad I said it first… ;-)
Because isn’t the problem in the fact that we are all trying to pursue a new version of Christ centered living that includes the all essential element of community (what ever the hell that means)? Isn’t the problem that in the increased awareness of community things that we begin to realize slowly but surely that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory, but we died, and our life is now hidden with Christ in God? When Christ who is our life appears, we shall also appear with him in glory. I know I am mixing verses, I just really like that verse... Fallen, but being redeemed. That’s the process, and not being afraid of it just being merely that has been my journey as of late. Sure I’m going to screw up in my co-dependant ways again, but I’ll get up again, and I’ll live and I’ll die again.
In my old age, I have discovered that the only thing I really know is that I don’t know anything, and that I don’t have to be afraid of that fact, because no one else really knows either. We are all just hanging out like amebas in a Petri dish going from here to there, bumping into each other. I obviously don’t think that we are alone in the process, but sometimes that’s how I feel, or actually what it looks like to me.
The big point, the massive struggle for me is, “LIVE!” Live fully, embrace the pain of hope and shun fear at every step, cause it’s just waiting there in the shadows to pull me back in to the bubble that was always too small for me, to put back on fetters that have rubbed scars into my wrists and ankles, and made me small.
I have more to say about this, it’s still forming in my growing brain/heart connection. It’ll have a vein soon.
Thanks for wading through this.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Breathing
I grew up in a beautiful place. A space that smelled of green and dirt after the rain washed the streets clean and the smog in the air was shoved away to give way for real air, breathable air.
We had very breathable air; in fact, it’s the most breathable air in the Nation, based on some poll somewhere. I long for that air when it’s hot and humid outside and my lungs scream at me because they remember the air that was so clean and full of the green from the trees that surrounded my little universe. Being in the middle of the nation during the summer, though I am grateful for my friends, etc., has proven to be quite the challenge, maybe it just sucks. Maybe it’s not a challenge at all. Maybe the challenge is to spend the time and money to get away from short stubby bushes they call trees here, and molehills they call mountains, and creeks they call rivers, and ponds they call lakes.
My wandering heart is in need of green majesty as it is every summer I spend away from it. The older I get, the more I find that my body literally aches for the terra of my birth. I look for the smell of water in the clouds here when it’s about to dump buckets of rain on us, my favorite part about the Midwest. Sometimes I’ll smell dirt just to see if I can be satisfied with the treated stuff they call soil. I walk barefoot through parks to feel if there is the “sticky” grass of my youth anywhere in my possible path. It always comes up short.
The long and short of it is, somehow God finds a way to weave the very material of nature into us while he’s weaving everything else that becomes who we are in our mother’s womb. Or maybe it just happened to me. I don’t know.
We had very breathable air; in fact, it’s the most breathable air in the Nation, based on some poll somewhere. I long for that air when it’s hot and humid outside and my lungs scream at me because they remember the air that was so clean and full of the green from the trees that surrounded my little universe. Being in the middle of the nation during the summer, though I am grateful for my friends, etc., has proven to be quite the challenge, maybe it just sucks. Maybe it’s not a challenge at all. Maybe the challenge is to spend the time and money to get away from short stubby bushes they call trees here, and molehills they call mountains, and creeks they call rivers, and ponds they call lakes.
My wandering heart is in need of green majesty as it is every summer I spend away from it. The older I get, the more I find that my body literally aches for the terra of my birth. I look for the smell of water in the clouds here when it’s about to dump buckets of rain on us, my favorite part about the Midwest. Sometimes I’ll smell dirt just to see if I can be satisfied with the treated stuff they call soil. I walk barefoot through parks to feel if there is the “sticky” grass of my youth anywhere in my possible path. It always comes up short.
The long and short of it is, somehow God finds a way to weave the very material of nature into us while he’s weaving everything else that becomes who we are in our mother’s womb. Or maybe it just happened to me. I don’t know.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Mirrored Faces
I make faces at myself in the bathroom mirror at work. I ask my friend/coworker if he does the same, he say’s, “yea”. I am happy to know that.
Writing is easier than talking, because a disconnect from the filter of mouth happens, and my fingers are more familiar with the language of my heart. Therefore, my words, these words may be much more telling about me than any words that you may hear come from my well shaped lips.
And since I am discovering the breadth of my ragamuffin-ness there may be words that are painful to read because the majority of you who read this love me deeply. So hang on, and hold your breath at the right points so that when you exhale it will be all the more sweet.
Something I wrote yesterday:
Disfigured ME
Bet you can't SEE
Anything but secretly
Through dark glass
reflections of beauty.
But I'm hiding my face, back turned
full of disgrace
Long to be free ME.
Writing is easier than talking, because a disconnect from the filter of mouth happens, and my fingers are more familiar with the language of my heart. Therefore, my words, these words may be much more telling about me than any words that you may hear come from my well shaped lips.
And since I am discovering the breadth of my ragamuffin-ness there may be words that are painful to read because the majority of you who read this love me deeply. So hang on, and hold your breath at the right points so that when you exhale it will be all the more sweet.
Something I wrote yesterday:
Disfigured ME
Bet you can't SEE
Anything but secretly
Through dark glass
reflections of beauty.
But I'm hiding my face, back turned
full of disgrace
Long to be free ME.
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