rumbling around in
my disturbed
psyche -
discontent
like the rich buttery
clam sauce
that drenched the
linguini
i finished not
two hours
ago
the richness
of a friends smile
the warmest of blue sky
nights
the topics we
could savor...
decadence
that my unsettled
soul cannot
digest
i watch
as if from outside
the room
puzzling over
what
could be
wrong
and what it is
that could possibly
stop me
from being present
in this
truly fabulous
moment.
wondering and
wishing
that there were some
way
i could
take in
the beauty
of
now.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
a roomie
when i didn’t hear you stir
this morning
at your regularly scheduled
hour
i found myself wondering
what
life would be like
if you suddenly weren’t
there
and what kind of
life insurance
policy
would cover what you do
and who you are to
me
i pictured myself
speaking
to a
bespectacled
insurance agent
watching him
scribble furiously
on his notepad
with a stubby yellow
pencil
while i listed
from where i was perched
in the plastic office chair
across from his desk,
the things i would
be lacking if you
left,
droning on
as if i were
going down a list
of groceries
or errands to
run on the way
home
and then caught myself
puzzling
over how to cover
the way you grin at me
at the end of a long day,
the quiet way you let me
be
when i am not sure how to
be present,
the little acts of kindness;
a load of laundry – unexpectedly
cleaned and laid on my bed,
a note with a hand-drawn little
flower in the corner
of it
perched against the faucet
of my bathroom sink,
a breakfast smoothie
halved with me.
the impromptu
taste tests
comparing brownies
or pickles
or sharp cheddar
cheese
from
kroger
to those from
tj's.
not to mention the times
you remind me of
the truth
about God, grace &
the gospel
like it’s something
so real
you have just finished
eating a meal of it
yourself
and you’ve got leftovers
to share.
it disturbed me so,
i dismissed the
insurance agent
who scurried off -
grateful to have
dodged the bullet
of trying to come up
with anything at all
that could possibly make up for
the loss
of
you.
this morning
at your regularly scheduled
hour
i found myself wondering
what
life would be like
if you suddenly weren’t
there
and what kind of
life insurance
policy
would cover what you do
and who you are to
me
i pictured myself
speaking
to a
bespectacled
insurance agent
watching him
scribble furiously
on his notepad
with a stubby yellow
pencil
while i listed
from where i was perched
in the plastic office chair
across from his desk,
the things i would
be lacking if you
left,
droning on
as if i were
going down a list
of groceries
or errands to
run on the way
home
and then caught myself
puzzling
over how to cover
the way you grin at me
at the end of a long day,
the quiet way you let me
be
when i am not sure how to
be present,
the little acts of kindness;
a load of laundry – unexpectedly
cleaned and laid on my bed,
a note with a hand-drawn little
flower in the corner
of it
perched against the faucet
of my bathroom sink,
a breakfast smoothie
halved with me.
the impromptu
taste tests
comparing brownies
or pickles
or sharp cheddar
cheese
from
kroger
to those from
tj's.
not to mention the times
you remind me of
the truth
about God, grace &
the gospel
like it’s something
so real
you have just finished
eating a meal of it
yourself
and you’ve got leftovers
to share.
it disturbed me so,
i dismissed the
insurance agent
who scurried off -
grateful to have
dodged the bullet
of trying to come up
with anything at all
that could possibly make up for
the loss
of
you.
Monday, June 7, 2010
morning
heartache
creates such a particlar
sensation
i step outside it for a moment
and
wonder
if this is
what it would feel like
to swallow
an uncomfortable
object made of lead
and to feel it
pulling your stomach to
some place
well beneath your
feet
or to breath in
a noxious fume
that burns and expands
past the boundaries
of your ribcage
once it hits the
bottom of your
lungs -
or to lay in bed while
through an IV
liquid weakness
is pumped
into your
bloodstream
making that roll over to
the side of your bed
this morning
one of the mightiest feats
you have ever
accomplished.
such an unbelievable
achievement,
that having performed it
you look up
half-expecting to see
a small cheering crowd
clustered in a
circle
just past your desk
waving little banners
in a frenzied rush
exclaiming
that they have
never seen
anything
quite this
amazing
before.
creates such a particlar
sensation
i step outside it for a moment
and
wonder
if this is
what it would feel like
to swallow
an uncomfortable
object made of lead
and to feel it
pulling your stomach to
some place
well beneath your
feet
or to breath in
a noxious fume
that burns and expands
past the boundaries
of your ribcage
once it hits the
bottom of your
lungs -
or to lay in bed while
through an IV
liquid weakness
is pumped
into your
bloodstream
making that roll over to
the side of your bed
this morning
one of the mightiest feats
you have ever
accomplished.
such an unbelievable
achievement,
that having performed it
you look up
half-expecting to see
a small cheering crowd
clustered in a
circle
just past your desk
waving little banners
in a frenzied rush
exclaiming
that they have
never seen
anything
quite this
amazing
before.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
taking a break
poetry has to come from somewhere. sometimes that place becomes elusive - slips down through the cracks of a busy schedule and too many feelings & not enough time to figure them out. so writing this post is an official pause. i liked my earlier stuff better. the flood came and everything felt heavy for a while. not that sad poetry can't be good, but it takes skill greater than mine for it not to get campy. y'know? i'm taking a break from more than just poetry this week. restlessness, hopelessness, fear. it's been a wild ride, but i'm getting off for a while. went to a neighborhood group tonight where we talked about justification. a big long word that sounds so fierce and intimidating - but once you get to know it, is actually the sweetest most consoling and comforting truth you have ever heard. i am so close to grasping a tiny piece of it. just getting close is intense though. probably something akin to standing before Niagra Falls. you know that it is freaking powerful. it could take you down. and you kinda want it to....
this. is. officially. rambling. is there no safeguard on this blog? there should be a built in shield that prevents you from posting things after 11:00pm. you never know what you'll read in the morning. : ) maybe that's part of the fun. what the hay, i'm taking the risk...
this. is. officially. rambling. is there no safeguard on this blog? there should be a built in shield that prevents you from posting things after 11:00pm. you never know what you'll read in the morning. : ) maybe that's part of the fun. what the hay, i'm taking the risk...
Thursday, May 13, 2010
one of those
it is so sweet
to have a
mandy
or a linda
in your life –
to glimpse
them loving a work
as if it were their
own
and to wonder
how it is
they do not
know:
they are poem
itself –
children of that great tribe
whose very way of
life
is the planting of
those seeds of
mercy
and things that stir the
soul within.
the writer - merely a wanderer,
meandering down rows
pulling off great handfuls
of rich, low growing
fruit
and dropping it into the basket
of written word,
that others too
may taste.
to have a
mandy
or a linda
in your life –
to glimpse
them loving a work
as if it were their
own
and to wonder
how it is
they do not
know:
they are poem
itself –
children of that great tribe
whose very way of
life
is the planting of
those seeds of
mercy
and things that stir the
soul within.
the writer - merely a wanderer,
meandering down rows
pulling off great handfuls
of rich, low growing
fruit
and dropping it into the basket
of written word,
that others too
may taste.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
about a flood
my heart so heavy
and yet
too shallow, still…
with its bricks of rue
mortared with self.
such need for a deeper
grief
and true redemption.
come fill me with your perfect
sorrow
one that
does not despair
as it flys downward
into the very
depths
of
loss
with that kernel
of our future
Glory
grasped
in it’s
tiny
determined
fist.
and yet
too shallow, still…
with its bricks of rue
mortared with self.
such need for a deeper
grief
and true redemption.
come fill me with your perfect
sorrow
one that
does not despair
as it flys downward
into the very
depths
of
loss
with that kernel
of our future
Glory
grasped
in it’s
tiny
determined
fist.
waters
laughter bursts out in little ripples
through this warm clear
night
quickly
silenced
by the heaviness
of the
dark water
on our streets
in our homes
rising up to claim
illusions of
security,
rest
even life
from within our
midst
with weighted feet
we walk damp
pavement
our sorrow and our love
for this city
muddied and
overflowing
like the waters
from the cumberland
that rise,
and rise
again.
through this warm clear
night
quickly
silenced
by the heaviness
of the
dark water
on our streets
in our homes
rising up to claim
illusions of
security,
rest
even life
from within our
midst
with weighted feet
we walk damp
pavement
our sorrow and our love
for this city
muddied and
overflowing
like the waters
from the cumberland
that rise,
and rise
again.
Monday, April 26, 2010
boiler
that's all it takes
your boiler to break
or some funny noise
to come out of your
car
for you to question
everything
the single life
the career
the waiting for just the right
man
suddenly
the panic of being
alone
and the burden of fixing
broken things
takes you down
the swift and severe
riptide
under the
seeming calm
of a woman on her
own
and you find yourself
glancing through
the church directory
wondering
did i overlook
anyone?
someone i should
really and
truly
reconsider?
your boiler to break
or some funny noise
to come out of your
car
for you to question
everything
the single life
the career
the waiting for just the right
man
suddenly
the panic of being
alone
and the burden of fixing
broken things
takes you down
the swift and severe
riptide
under the
seeming calm
of a woman on her
own
and you find yourself
glancing through
the church directory
wondering
did i overlook
anyone?
someone i should
really and
truly
reconsider?
missing jude
how can the memory
of those 2-inch chubby
wrists
seem to lodge
itself
in my throat
like a knot of
unwept silver?
i remember the
weight
of his desire to
see everything
from the vantage point of my
arms
and how his
expression
changing direction
and force
like a wandering summer
breeze
seemed to carry my heart
like a leaf.
whenever he
smiled
i could see the whole earth
under my feet
i was so high.
and when he cried
i felt the
air grow cold
and still
i lay,
low and heavy
waiting for the
next eddy
to lift me up
again.
of those 2-inch chubby
wrists
seem to lodge
itself
in my throat
like a knot of
unwept silver?
i remember the
weight
of his desire to
see everything
from the vantage point of my
arms
and how his
expression
changing direction
and force
like a wandering summer
breeze
seemed to carry my heart
like a leaf.
whenever he
smiled
i could see the whole earth
under my feet
i was so high.
and when he cried
i felt the
air grow cold
and still
i lay,
low and heavy
waiting for the
next eddy
to lift me up
again.
road trip
st louis is to me…
laughter in the back seat of a maroon miracle car
avocado’s & blue chips in transit
two clear voices singing
harmony
changing hotel rooms
again
and again
and
again.
dark rain
stormy winds
crawling into tubes
tunnels
laughter and
tornado warnings
sculptures
over my head
strange and
heavy-set
in lush green grass
a frisbee
union station
a floor marbled with light
my quarter losing the race to
a dime
joy in the present
eating this dinner
to the sounds of a crowd
gathered around
for a show about fudge
that trio of balloons
travelling down the busy street
as though it had every right
of a fully-registered vehicle
the bright clock
and the feel of a storm
as we waited for our ride
the walk to the Arch
straight and wide enough for four
through a tunnel of trees
waving their lacy leaves in flurries
against a dark peach ceiling of sky
and then
the Arch;
taller than i could feel
silver and
terrible
in beauty
in height
in simplicity
running to catch up with
my friends
my heart unsettled
by that infinite touch of hard silver
the walk back
arm in arm
and then
camaraderie
exercising in our
pajama’s
pharaoh & the psalms
a sleeping girl
and
rest.
riding
always riding
and always
the Arch
now forever a part of me,
altering everything
just like
the laughter
of the
girl
laughter in the back seat of a maroon miracle car
avocado’s & blue chips in transit
two clear voices singing
harmony
changing hotel rooms
again
and again
and
again.
dark rain
stormy winds
crawling into tubes
tunnels
laughter and
tornado warnings
sculptures
over my head
strange and
heavy-set
in lush green grass
a frisbee
union station
a floor marbled with light
my quarter losing the race to
a dime
joy in the present
eating this dinner
to the sounds of a crowd
gathered around
for a show about fudge
that trio of balloons
travelling down the busy street
as though it had every right
of a fully-registered vehicle
the bright clock
and the feel of a storm
as we waited for our ride
the walk to the Arch
straight and wide enough for four
through a tunnel of trees
waving their lacy leaves in flurries
against a dark peach ceiling of sky
and then
the Arch;
taller than i could feel
silver and
terrible
in beauty
in height
in simplicity
running to catch up with
my friends
my heart unsettled
by that infinite touch of hard silver
the walk back
arm in arm
and then
camaraderie
exercising in our
pajama’s
pharaoh & the psalms
a sleeping girl
and
rest.
riding
always riding
and always
the Arch
now forever a part of me,
altering everything
just like
the laughter
of the
girl
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
frisbee & grace in the park
the silent sound of the glowing green disc coming to rest in your hand
your voice muffled in the darkness and deep grass between us
the story of grace in a desperate full out run - grasping
to bridge the failure -
the lack in me...
and the simple act of watching
without shame
so as to accept the gift
of someone trying so very
hard
to connect...
just for this; that my weakest efforts
would end in
joy.
oh this is grace.
i throw with all the best
intentions
towards my God,
the desire to connect...
and as it spirals
out of control,
exposing the great "i can't"
i'm tempted to look away
from the certain foolish end
of my greatest effort.
but He,
runs with the speed of the light He made,
holding nothing back
as He reaches out...
and
catches it.
your voice muffled in the darkness and deep grass between us
the story of grace in a desperate full out run - grasping
to bridge the failure -
the lack in me...
and the simple act of watching
without shame
so as to accept the gift
of someone trying so very
hard
to connect...
just for this; that my weakest efforts
would end in
joy.
oh this is grace.
i throw with all the best
intentions
towards my God,
the desire to connect...
and as it spirals
out of control,
exposing the great "i can't"
i'm tempted to look away
from the certain foolish end
of my greatest effort.
but He,
runs with the speed of the light He made,
holding nothing back
as He reaches out...
and
catches it.
Friday, April 16, 2010
nashville
the city skyline on my left is so fierce
she catches my breath and i try not to hit the car in front of me
beautiful
mesmerized in the sunset reflected off her glass robed
skyscraping contours
i wonder if this is what it feels like
for a man to see a beautiful woman across the room
so distant – unapproachable –
but i am not a stranger to this city,
more like a man who glimpses
a gorgeous woman
who happen to be his wife
through a crowd
he too, must feel the ache
a strange awe
at how others must perceive
this woman
but he knows
what it is, to wander through her alleyways
he knows the smell of the breeze on her side streets
and where the sun hits the busy corners
how that feels on his skin
the sounds of the lunch crowd
dodging tourists in cowboy boots -
how kind and tender she can be
and on a stormy day, how cruel.
she catches my breath and i try not to hit the car in front of me
beautiful
mesmerized in the sunset reflected off her glass robed
skyscraping contours
i wonder if this is what it feels like
for a man to see a beautiful woman across the room
so distant – unapproachable –
but i am not a stranger to this city,
more like a man who glimpses
a gorgeous woman
who happen to be his wife
through a crowd
he too, must feel the ache
a strange awe
at how others must perceive
this woman
but he knows
what it is, to wander through her alleyways
he knows the smell of the breeze on her side streets
and where the sun hits the busy corners
how that feels on his skin
the sounds of the lunch crowd
dodging tourists in cowboy boots -
how kind and tender she can be
and on a stormy day, how cruel.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
billy collins inspires me
I fall for pieces of them
but never the whole
Brandon's coy smirk...
David's pointed questions,
The boy whose name I don't even
remember;
his brown eyes - the way they
smiled at me.
Even the awkward ones -
Kenneth and his ridiculous
salsa-fighting moves
that made me laugh out loud
as he spun me, without grace, around the room...
Ronald's impulsive adoration
of me
whenever I enter a room he is in.
The married ones too;
The way they love their wives
so well,
and make them beautiful
with their love -
When those men turn and
smile with familial affection at
me
I become some strange mix
shy and bold;
happy to be one of the
lesser ladies in their life.
Less is still so much
when men know how to love
like that.
They know how to love
one whole woman...
but that is a mystery to me,
because I am still falling
for pieces.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
how you got here
this morning was just the coolest thing ever. went to an early morning women's bible study. i don't know how many of us were packed in there; maybe 30-35? we went around the room and each person told the group the key influences/factors in their coming to Christ. it was amazing to hear how different some of our stories were. i think i love this sort of question anyway. looking back on the people and things that molded and shaped the person you are becoming today. i've done that in the past; listed the top 20 men/women in my life who had were the most influential. the exercise made me realize how much i have to be grateful for. it also makes me realize that our brief seasons in one anothers life may have lasting and permanent benefits. a little scary, no? but also really exciting. so this morning i shared two main influences (dan allender's books & people over 50 who've invested a little time in me)... on the way to work i thought of more. thought i'd list them here so i will have a record of it somewhere. here they are in no particular order. little lights along the dark path that lead me to the one whose changed my world:
* my grandmother reading the narnia series to me via cassette tapes that she'd mail to png. those stories taught me that the magic my heart longed for as a child could be found in Jesus....
* my mother reading john white's "the tower of geburah" series to us kids every night in the village. "hey, you dumb chicken, he who Gaal pardons is pardoned indeed!" still makes me cry every time i think of it.
* c.s. lewis (the great divorce, mere christianity). i saw myself in almost every character...humbling and hopeful....disturbing but inviting..
* a teacher at my high school (gail edoni) who decided to do a little bible study with two of us girls for a term or two. the bible study course we went through opened up scripture as something i could understand and something that could feed my soul if i could just figure out how to tap into it.
* this lively passionate woman who co-lead the middle-school youth group with me (inga odenwald, you know who you are). we went through fosters "celeberation of discipline" - i still remember us all kneeling with the kids in the dark, pouring out our hearts... feeling the Holy Spirit move - all the more powerful to see Him reaching such young people. our times of praying for the group ahead of time were also very intense - i could tell someone was actually there and actually listening....
* my aunt alyce; a very intelligent and thoughtful believer who also happened to love me a whole lot. i couldn't reject all authority because i couldn't deny her love for me was real and seemed to be rooted in her faith.
* my aunt joyce; long-suffering. showed me the tenderness of Christ. i really hadn't experienced a lot of that first-hand before getting to know her.
* friends; bonnie duncan in png, stephanie marshall in college
* my syblings. they have always been beacons of hope and encouragers to follow after the light instead of sucumbing to the hopelessness that seemed so attractive at times.
* michael card's lyrics & music. i used to be terrified of the old testament. he made me see that it was truly a part of the love story.
* tim keller's sermons. so much of my muddled thinking that lead to so much fear was dealt with in those sermons. the marriage series helped me to process a lot of my past family issues that had me stuck.
* grandma nita young. i can't even begin to explain here...
* sonship - and the way it changed ub & aj's lives. no denying that something very powerful was at work in the world.
* crown ministries under the loving leadership of the winters. God's tenderness and faithfulness became very real and the realiziation that the practical implications of believing Him and his word could change my life.
* returning to png after the tsunami hit to help with the rebuilding project (rob carter's incredible belief and support of our family, which was in shambles at the time). definitely a turning point there.
* most recently; aa and my trip to england with world harvest.
* no wait, more recently than that; dr. mory and his wife. their prayers changed something deep in me that needed changing and things haven't been the same since.
* people over 50 are still huge in my life; the punc's are a sweet presence and are constantly singing the siren call of the gospel into my life.
* a group of women i like to call 'my girls'.... calling me out left and right when my life sounds all right but looks all wrong...
wow. it took a LOT of people to get me where i am! i am such a miracle. i bet you are too.
* my grandmother reading the narnia series to me via cassette tapes that she'd mail to png. those stories taught me that the magic my heart longed for as a child could be found in Jesus....
* my mother reading john white's "the tower of geburah" series to us kids every night in the village. "hey, you dumb chicken, he who Gaal pardons is pardoned indeed!" still makes me cry every time i think of it.
* c.s. lewis (the great divorce, mere christianity). i saw myself in almost every character...humbling and hopeful....disturbing but inviting..
* a teacher at my high school (gail edoni) who decided to do a little bible study with two of us girls for a term or two. the bible study course we went through opened up scripture as something i could understand and something that could feed my soul if i could just figure out how to tap into it.
* this lively passionate woman who co-lead the middle-school youth group with me (inga odenwald, you know who you are). we went through fosters "celeberation of discipline" - i still remember us all kneeling with the kids in the dark, pouring out our hearts... feeling the Holy Spirit move - all the more powerful to see Him reaching such young people. our times of praying for the group ahead of time were also very intense - i could tell someone was actually there and actually listening....
* my aunt alyce; a very intelligent and thoughtful believer who also happened to love me a whole lot. i couldn't reject all authority because i couldn't deny her love for me was real and seemed to be rooted in her faith.
* my aunt joyce; long-suffering. showed me the tenderness of Christ. i really hadn't experienced a lot of that first-hand before getting to know her.
* friends; bonnie duncan in png, stephanie marshall in college
* my syblings. they have always been beacons of hope and encouragers to follow after the light instead of sucumbing to the hopelessness that seemed so attractive at times.
* michael card's lyrics & music. i used to be terrified of the old testament. he made me see that it was truly a part of the love story.
* tim keller's sermons. so much of my muddled thinking that lead to so much fear was dealt with in those sermons. the marriage series helped me to process a lot of my past family issues that had me stuck.
* grandma nita young. i can't even begin to explain here...
* sonship - and the way it changed ub & aj's lives. no denying that something very powerful was at work in the world.
* crown ministries under the loving leadership of the winters. God's tenderness and faithfulness became very real and the realiziation that the practical implications of believing Him and his word could change my life.
* returning to png after the tsunami hit to help with the rebuilding project (rob carter's incredible belief and support of our family, which was in shambles at the time). definitely a turning point there.
* most recently; aa and my trip to england with world harvest.
* no wait, more recently than that; dr. mory and his wife. their prayers changed something deep in me that needed changing and things haven't been the same since.
* people over 50 are still huge in my life; the punc's are a sweet presence and are constantly singing the siren call of the gospel into my life.
* a group of women i like to call 'my girls'.... calling me out left and right when my life sounds all right but looks all wrong...
wow. it took a LOT of people to get me where i am! i am such a miracle. i bet you are too.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
blogs & the bible
okay, so let me preface this by saying that i know that the bible is powerful, living, food for my very soul..... some mornings, however, it seems like the heaviest thing in the world to open it. this was such a morning. in a dark fog, i sat down at the table to peruse a blog or two - and got caught up in stories of folks just like me; tired, bored, overwhelmed, under-awed... and i heard the themes of redemption in the midst of it. a savior bigger than our restless, drifting hearts. a story being told that captures and overturns every small sorrow and heartache. amazing to me that God can reach me through....a blog. now i am curious to open His word and to draw near to the one who is always drawing near to me.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
mining for gold
at the request of the misisonaries who took over the project of translation in our village when we left, i'm re-visiting memories of the tsunami that hit the village in '98, and writing about how the visit back to PNG the following year has impacted my life. unexpectedly hard. realizing that though the story of redemption is painted in bright colors of suffering, the picture being created is gorgeous. praying for the strenght to embrace the colors, and to let the story unfold. so glad i'm not the author. thankful for the sweet prayer of a sweet friend as i head back in. delving into heaviness knowing that there is gold here.
Friday, February 5, 2010
rainy days & forgetfulness
today is cold and rainy. i just wrote my mom about how i'm longing for a fireplace & some good book-time. i also copied down this poem for her, because i love it and it makes my heart ache a little in the best sort of way. the title is, i need not mention, is oh-so-applicable to me. thought i'd get that in before anybody else did.
Forgetfulness - Billy Collins
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
*****************************
sigh. isn't that beautiful? i love how it switches from forgetting things from your lifetime, to forgetting an ancient love song that your heart used to know. it speaks of a feeling of longing for a home you've not yet been to. i believe our hearts "remember" paradise, and life can feel like one long forgetfulness - but one day, we will remember! hope this finds my mom, as well as you all, growing - hopeful - and "remembery" of the truest love-song. i am remembering the sound of tropical rain on a tin roof. my soul takes a deep breath at the echo's of that thunder.
Forgetfulness - Billy Collins
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
*****************************
sigh. isn't that beautiful? i love how it switches from forgetting things from your lifetime, to forgetting an ancient love song that your heart used to know. it speaks of a feeling of longing for a home you've not yet been to. i believe our hearts "remember" paradise, and life can feel like one long forgetfulness - but one day, we will remember! hope this finds my mom, as well as you all, growing - hopeful - and "remembery" of the truest love-song. i am remembering the sound of tropical rain on a tin roof. my soul takes a deep breath at the echo's of that thunder.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
sunny snowy sunday
i'll upload some pictures of this strange whiteness that covers rooftops and cars and makes this look like a little town in the far north, but for now: just believe me when i say it snowed here in nashville. this morning i shoveled a few inches of it off my car. out there in the sunshine it was actually quite an exhilerating experience. i have a really cool snow scraper, and i have to give that it probably significantly added to the level of enjoyment. i really believe that the right tool can make all the difference in the world. my very limited experience in cooking, haircutting, and minor surgery only confirms this.
a now, without segway of any kind;
Snow Day (Billy Collins)
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
and beyond these windows
the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.
In a while I will put on some boots
and step out like someone walking in water,
and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,
and I will shake a laden branch,
sending a cold shower down on us both.
But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,
a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.
I will make a pot of tea
and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,
as glad as anyone to hear the news
that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,
the Ding-Dong School, closed,
the All Aboard Children's School, closed,
the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,
along with -- some will be delighted to hear --
the Toadstool School, the Little School,
Little Sparrows Nursery School,
Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School,
the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,
and -- clap your hands -- the Peanuts Play School.
So this is where the children hide all day,
These are the nests where they letter and draw,
where they put on their bright miniature jackets,
all darting and climbing and sliding,
all but the few girls whispering by the fence.
And now I am listening hard
in the grandiose silence of the snow,
trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,
what riot is afoot,
which small queen is about to be brought down.
a now, without segway of any kind;
Snow Day (Billy Collins)
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
and beyond these windows
the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.
In a while I will put on some boots
and step out like someone walking in water,
and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,
and I will shake a laden branch,
sending a cold shower down on us both.
But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,
a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.
I will make a pot of tea
and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,
as glad as anyone to hear the news
that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,
the Ding-Dong School, closed,
the All Aboard Children's School, closed,
the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,
along with -- some will be delighted to hear --
the Toadstool School, the Little School,
Little Sparrows Nursery School,
Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School,
the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,
and -- clap your hands -- the Peanuts Play School.
So this is where the children hide all day,
These are the nests where they letter and draw,
where they put on their bright miniature jackets,
all darting and climbing and sliding,
all but the few girls whispering by the fence.
And now I am listening hard
in the grandiose silence of the snow,
trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,
what riot is afoot,
which small queen is about to be brought down.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
all kinds of milestones
jina's cottage cheese blueberry pancakes & sweet time with a cous.
today i celebrated another milestone in the journey that God is leading me through. i never knew that growing up would be so much fun. the settling down into deeper pools of "contented restlessness" and having your world expand 100-fold... my body may not be as fast & sleek & as quick to heal as it was 10 years ago (my aching knee reminds me), but in Christ, my senses have come alive, and i can drink in life and taste so many more flavors. imagine if this is only the beginning.....
can you see me in the background? one of my more attractive poses, i must say. never knew how much fun a girl could have in anthropologie...it's all in the companions you take with you. (i scored)
Thursday, January 7, 2010
snow and the new year
the weather people expected snow, so i did too. it's finally coming, in millimeters vs inches...but still. growing up tropical, i am more amazed than than your average bear with it. hoping for a few more layers before the day is over.... so the new year has started off like a greyhound out of the chute at the racetrack - i'm just now realizing that i'm forgetting to breathe... to rest... to trust. i will try to slow down and reach for his hand. knowing that even though i've run off like a crazy person, that he has not left me. today is a very "missy" sort of day in regards to jude. i wonder what he looks like this week, what he can do now that he couldn't back in november. oh how i love that little guy. i could go on, but i will keep this brief. so that is all for now. happy new year friends. cannot wait to see what our God is going to do with us these next 12 months... knowing him, it will be amazing. cheers -
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