i’m kneeling low

bent underneath

a load i cannot bear

a broken heart

eyes red with tears

Your voice i long to hear

what lesson’s here

this valley low

the pain i long to flee?

how can i know

Your narrow way

to finally be free?

i lift my eyes

and see the sticks

it’s foolishness to some

no lesson here

of guarding self

making my heart be numb

but in that cross

a message true

giving more than i can

will i still love

if none respond?

through me that is His plan

a christmas poem

"A Christmas Card" by Thodore Holmes

The moon moves just out of reach of the mountain

That rises behind the town like an image of man's desire

By its light the roofs and steeple of the town look just like copies

Of this same image as it is spent with less force.

The moon, in its rising, lifts in the night of our human world

The promise of another world,--of which it is the soft reflection.

The mountain is the giant shadow it gives rise to and that moves up the valley

Just as the lights are being put out in the houses below,

That dissolves the roofs in the darkness of a completer oblivion

Before the return of the little consciousness moonlight allows:

It is the moon that sets the stars in the frost on the windowpane.

In this town, snuggled tightly beneath their blankets,

With the mountain now as only some dark outline in the head,

The people go over their shopping trips in preparation for the season's joy;

Christmas is the season of the sacrifice each makes

Toward the day when, in ribbons and bows, he will feel the Easter of his joy.

With prayers on his lips and in the garden of the charity in his heart,

Each hopes, alone in the dumbness of his thoughts,

That his hands contain the gifts another will be grateful to him for;

In bed, he passes again the crowds of people he hardly knows with packages on the street,

Walking before the windows which, no matter how much we buy, we never seem able to touch;

Walking before the signs which the season seems especially proud of:

Hire the handicapped; it is good business. He feels himself jostled by the crowds

Turning up the streets, climbing the hills of their giving,

That makes them feel easier by what each Christmas contains of the first,

When as children in their beds they knew that everything below was theirs;

As they mill through the stores looking for someone's drop of blood

That they can make their own, filling the wooden crosses of the aisles with their feet,--

Their arms like the branches of the trees killed to make the floor,

He feels each reach made to test the vessel they have come to carry their giving in:

A shawl for grandmother, a pair of the sheerest stockings for mother,

A doll for Dottie that closes her eyes when you lay her down to sleep;

For junior a soldier with tin eyes and a pop-gun that shoots us dead.

Christmas is the time we put flesh on our loves--

As when in bed on a Winter night we turn to our warmth

With the only present that our flesh is sacrifice enough for,

And the busy city streets dance with produce in our veins.

Outside of the sleeper's room, inside the arms in which he has fallen to sleep,

The moon slides past and the stars come out behind it

From the darkness that closes in the human search for each other at night;

The stars that have been hidden by the shining of this nearer light--

And out of all this heavenly host, three wise men once

Needed only one to guide them to the crib of regenerate man.

autism

pictures on a wall beside

stickers in books with peoples' voices

running through light from

a window above chairs

near voices telling the dog

jumped over the stick

that won't be quiet

to the faces getting closer

where i'm running through

fast-forward high definition

blue lights

driving slowly down a snowy street

icicles spin casually from gutters

wind moans a lament to lost love

spring hidden beneath winter's cloak

yet within a light glows

melancholy but bright

blue lights in a world of white

a moment is past

behind it leaves a world newly the same

renewed hope makes all the difference

because a thankful heart...

it is truly amazing how sitting down and thanking God for all the amazing things He's done, the amazing person He is, and all the wonderful things He's given can revolutionize your attitude. as He continues to teach me that He alone satisfies, i find He blesses me as i lean into Him. He has worked on teaching me this year to praise Him through the difficulties, and in the past few weeks He has taught me to hope again. the joy that comes through thanksgiving and praise when I see His blessings is all the more rich because of the struggles i have faced to get to this day. and while i know not how or if my hopes will be fulfilled as i dream today, i know hope in Him does not disappoint.

thank You, God, for a happy heart today.

one brick at a time...

in Poe's short story, "the cask of amontillado", montresor tricks his friend fortunato into going into the crypts where he walls him up alive. the cause of his hate grew over time, leading him to this point, but he never let fortunato know--"I continued as my wont, to smile in his face".

in relationships, we often do a similar thing--allowing things to come between us, building up a wall one brick at a time until finally, the person becomes dead to us. we take offense, one brick. we run away from a tough situation, another brick. we don't tell the person how we really feel, yet another brick.

sometimes, we build the wall secretly, still smiling in the supposed friend's face while all the while laying bricks until, suddenly, the friend is staring at a wall, at a broken friendship.

it takes bravery to not lay bricks, to tear down the ones we have already laid, and to walk in transparent honesty, to forgive.

you disarm me

i flash my blade

securely naive

when with a whisk

my rapier falls

and i stand

naked

unprotected

with a word

you cut easily

through my defenses

carefully crafted

verbal barricades

you treat like matchsticks

a puff from your mouth

and they fall away

ironically

in my weakness

i tremble

but not from fear

megamadness

the loud worship music cloaks the darkened room like a blanket, while bright spotlights ruffle the crowd. thousands of people, mostly strangers, gather to sing and listen and then go their separate ways. the message is good, challenging, the opportunities for service numerous and creative. but a hollowness pervades.

He said love one another as I have loved you. this love goes deeper than an occasional handshake, an impersonal gift. love that transforms digs below the superficial interactions to the place where i must make a choice to love you in spite of the failures, weaknesses, and pain in both our lives.

they--the world--will know we are christians by this love. can a church of over 10,000 strong demonstrate an intimate love, a covenantal love that sticks together through thick and thin? perhaps. but most likely only in pockets, in small groups. and i think the huge size encourages a large group of "hangers-on" who think they are practicing church involvement when in reality they are merely basking in the glow of the few who are truly laying down their lives.

i weep for a culture that has chosen glitz and grandiosity at the price of lasting and meaningful relationship. and i weep for the church that, like a lamb, is following it heedlessly.

perspective

from the air i see

a mound of shaded green

whose paths i know

along the waters blue

i can trace the shape

of each long hallway

in the cream building

now a distant block

between me and home

is only breath

thousands of air

too thick to cross

i've traveled this road

many times before

leaving what home

i think i know

each time it aches

to leave you behind

but most of all

not missing me

unsure

God, i'm kneeling

it's another bush

still burning

i lost my shoes

a while back

my feet are cracked

will this ever be

a lesson learned?

the fire scorches

must i yet again

throw this desire

in all-consuming flame?

my knees give way

under this heartbreak

teach me to trust

Your best will come

the blow

i see you

as i walk in the room

my arms ache

to hold you

smother fear

in love's embrace

protect your life

from this new presence

unwelcome spectre

this sand now neon

flows heedlessly

and i cannot stop it

bring back yesterday

delay tomorrow

my arms weaken

but my heart strengthens

resolution anew

to offer Beulah's comfort

eternal touch

Traum

i've fallen one too many times
into your eyes
lingered just a little longer
outside your touch
tried more often than not
to make you smile
and drowned eagerly
in your laugh

now the cold light of dawn has come
reality calms
and so i place you sadly
on the shelf
along with the other phantoms
haunting memories
dreams cannot keep me warm
love must be flesh

i bask in the bittersweet release
of goodbye

on love and reciprocity

a fragment

if i love you
you will love me
but sometimes 2 & 2
does not equal 4
when i love and hold
my 2 out to you
it doesn't always find
a plus

la vida tal como es

lágrimas en la noche

andando soltera

sueños de arena

en frente de unas olas

gozo y tristeza

unos saludos nuevos

dolor tremendo

esperanza que no muere

falling jars

fall is here. the rains come and go, leaving behind crisp, glistening grey days of meandering sunbursts. the beauty of a newly cleaned leaf, green or golden against a blue sky has a piercing quality. transitory, i feel the urge to go and bathe my eyes in the wonders of this season for all too soon it will pass and the cold that bars me behind closed windows and inside warm wool hats.

echoing in my ears each fall is the music of jars of clay, especially their "who we are instead" album. through sharp guitar and creative accompaniment and rhythm they capture the feel of bittersweet transitory beauty. lyrics tell of the age-old struggle with this life that at once entices and destroys, and of the sublime hope that this is not the end.

so when i'm lonely or when i'm old

life is more behind me

all the stories have been told

i can fix my gaze up through the clouds

where i'm gonna be...

my heavenly

thoughts on love languages

"The purpose of love is to enhance the well-being of another, not to satisfy your own desires."

"The whole concept of the five love languages is learning to speak the other's language, not just perfecting your own."

Unconditional love. The pinnacle of perfection. Sought vainly in man, offered in God. Yet we are His image and therefore privileged to aspire on to loving more and more without condition. A love that offers whether the loved loves in return. A love that seeks the best for the other person. No longer a laundry list of "how to love me", loving can become an adventure in which we seek to discover and honor the uniqueness of the desires He has placed in us. Leaving aside the "easy" way where I tell you how to love me, we can strive toward spontaneous, unexpected, original expressions of love that show the beloved they are loved merely for being themselves, not for anything they have done, can do, or will do. Such love that was offered at the Cross now can be offered from our hearts as Another loves through us.

Teach me to love as You love. A love that does not seek its own. Realizing how undeservedly and freely You show me love, so now out of that love I can offer others a moonlit glimpse.

We tend to want to blame or praise, but life doesn't divide itself that neatly. You're going to be looking for someone to understand you, too.

...they [artists] all have a need that cannot be met by another human being. That's why the affairs, the one-night stands. It takes greatness of spirit to understand that the need is not meetable, and just to get on with life.

~L'Engle, Certain Women

a minor epiphany

pain is the megaphone God uses to rouse a deaf world. ~cs lewis

when i think about where i'm at in life, it's a negative response to switchfoot's question. i have no idea where i'm going, who i'm going with, and even if i want to get there. but this week, God reminded me why i still sing. i have not lost my voice, and He told me why i should not lose my joy.

storge

i am a hopeless romantic and, like much afraid, i wanted so much to be loved. early on--earlier than i can remember really--i realized that my family was not the lovable perfect model that some friends had. perfection in family love could never be achieved so i looked elsewhere...

eros

i dreampt that someday the perfect knight would come and sweep me away. it hasn't happened and moreover those i put on pedestals have spit on my regard. so i look elsewhere...

phileo

this, this is it! finally, people--good, Jesus-loving people--who won't let me down, who understand me and are committed to me until the very end. this year, God has let me see that friends fail as much as lovers and family. through suffering, through misunderstandings and harsh, hateful words my budding plant of false love has been ripped up...

agape

so tonight i worshipped in a new place and He shed a new light on this season in life. His is the only love that satisfies, and even more, He jealously desires me to find in Him all the fulfillment the other loves try to mimic. in mercy, He allowed trials and sufferings to come to me so that i could see only He matters. really see, in a way that only coming to the broken end of myself where all else failed could bring. i can walk in joy--not by ignoring the hurts nor by avoiding repentance--but by realizing and focussing on Him alone. HIM ALONE. His love can sustain me and bring me the joy i need. a daily lesson, to be sure, but one newly bored more deeply into me.

oh Lord, i see more clearly now

see this place of pain and how

you brought me here in love

so all else may fade away

You the center alone stay

My Lover and My Lord

be near me now and guide me

as i forgive and humbly free

the ones who brought the pain

they become the simple means

that exposes what needs cleaned

and You provide the salve

thank You for your love so kind

that brought me this peace of mind

i kneel in surrender

what type of dog are you?

dogs can generally be categorized in three ways. certain dogs are confident that humans enjoy them. these dogs approach people, tails wagging, tongue hanging out, certain that people will pat their heads, pet them adoringly and in general simply love them. after all, they are lovable! it never enters into their head that someone would not want them around; after all, what’s not to like? should the occasional person run screaming in fear or lash out at them in anger they respond in surprise and assume that the person has the problem. they are perfect.

another type of dog is the personification of the fight side. these dogs approach every human interaction, based perhaps on careful training, as a combat situation. humans are the enemy, and must be attacked and defeated if possible. no human is trustworthy nor endowed with good intentions. bite first, ask questions later. it’s not personal, it’s business.

a third dog falls somewhere in between the other two. this dog perhaps started out liking humans, wanting to please them, but repeated interactions taught it that humans did not always want to be around the dog. for a tail wag, they got a slap. for a lick, a cuff. for a whimper, a kick. now they sidle up to humans half in fear, half in longing. tail between the legs but, if examined closely, slightly wagging. will this human be different? will s/he love me?

thoughts on Peter...

my favorite Gospel has always been John. i dreampt of being “the disciple whom Jesus loved”, the one reclining on His breast. in my mind John is a lot like Dusty in to end all wars: soft, kind, forgiving, and above all loving.

but lately it has become very clear to me that i am Peter. Peter wanted to be John, too. “what about that guy, Jesus? how’s he gonna die?” “that’s not your concern. you’re not John.” Peter’s the one i never wanted to be. deny Christ? no, not me. take matters into my own hands and chop someone’s ear off? again, not me of course. impetuously decide to build a couple temples after witnessing supreme glory? i mean, we are way off. but actually, not that far off. i am intense, impetuous, leaping before i think. i passionately believe what i say yet struggle to realize that i cannot on my own nor in my own strength fulfill any ideal i hold dear.

and, like Peter, God in His mercy has brought me to the place of bitter tears. of realizing how far short i am in being like Jesus, how my own actions deny Him more than i ever would want. i do not love people like He loves people. i am not content to be me--i want to be “John” or whoever is not me.

even in the place of tears, the dark night of denial, i can remember the story of Peter and take heart. can i but learn humility, truly learn the lesson of surrender that He in His mercy has chosen to teach me i can, someday, be greatly used by Him. it was only after Peter accepted that God loved Him, had made Him who He desired to be--”on this rock I will build My Church”--and surrendered all his own striving, only then could God use Him mightily.

so here i am, standing before the altar, feeling the burning flames singe my hair and knowing that only through climbing up on it and letting Him burn away my failure can i become who He wants me to be.

in this broken moment i come

holding only failure in my hands

Your love is all that draws

Your mercy all i cling to

can i make it through the fire

truly change

can Your will become mine

truly one

so clasping loose my rags

i’m waiting on Your touch

my strength is not enough

even to surrender

belle

lovely music

at what price, unity?

His prayer in the garden--for us to be one...

the second commandment, to love one another...

Paul tells us to make every effort to preserve unity...

at what point do we give up the fight? walk away from a brother/sister and refuse to fight for relationship with them? yes, you cannot control their reactions. should they choose to hate you, to accuse you of a myriad of things, demand that you conform to their twisted standards, does that justify you breaking fellowship?

in the film, to end all wars, one of the characters chooses to give his life for a fellow prisoner--a brother--who, even though they share the same situation (pow) they do not see eye-to-eye on how to relate to their captors, to the extent that they fought and the one sentenced to die rejected the friendship of the one who then gives his life. we can exclaim over the nobility of the sacrifice, but really the amazing part is that the humble brother had laid down his life every day up to the point when he actually died. and that is much more difficult.

am i right? yes, often. was Jesus right? always. and His response was humility. He, who had every, EVERY right to demand "fairness"; who was justified in any action He took, chose the way of death. can i choose death?

it may be, like in the movie, that those i forgive and continually extend forgiveness in dying to my rights may not receive or accept that forgiveness. it may be burning coals upon their head. or they may scoff at my offerings of love. they may even come to the point where they demand death of those they hate. but that is not my story. i cannot ever base my actions upon their decisions. my response must always be love, no matter what their response is.

and love preserves perfect unity. i will continue to work at the relationship, offering humbly to pray and seek areas in which i can still repent. i will continue to love and offer my love even if you choose to walk away. the love must show that i will never stop being open to walk in unity.

at what price, unity? at any price. at the price of the blood of the Lamb.

a musical punctuation

food for thought

just finished Chosen by a Horse and thought to share some quotes. the book, from a non-religious perspective, shared fresh views on the importance of identity and not letting others define it for you. also, it challenged me about continuing to love after much hurt.

Unlike me, Lay Me Down seemed to feel no rancor. In spite of everything, she was open and trusting of people, qualities I decidedly lacked. It was her capacity to engage that drew me to her, that made me aware of what was possible for me if I had her capacity to...to what? Forgive? Forget? Live in the moment? What exactly was it that enabled an abused animal, for lack of a better word, to love again?

Her past had surely been as bad as mine but she showed no bitterness, no resentment, no neurotic need to isolate herself from other horses (or people) in order to feel safe. [...] Her capacity to love seemed enormous.

By her gentle affection I felt restored to the status of someone who mattered, someone who was needed. She gave me that, a sense of family. We both belonged to nobody, nobody who cared, and now so late in our lives, this miracle had occurred.

Was I the only one who didn't know that facing death meant facing life? They were exactly the same.

To love without an echo is the death knell of the soul. Foolishly, the soulless body grows anyway, marches into the future without its nucleus, without its self, bonsaied by this echoless love.

psalm 143

hurry with your answer, God!
i'm nearly at the end of my rope.
don't turn away; don't ignore me!
that would be certain death.
if you wake me each morning with the sound of your loving voice,
i'll go to sleep each night trusting in you.
point out the road i must travel;
i'm all ears, all eyes before you.
save me from my enemies, God--
you're my only hope!
teach me how to live to please you,
because you're my God.
lead me by your blessed Spirit
into cleared and level pastureland.

encouragement from christa

Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth's rite of Passage? His father takes him into the forest, blindfolds him and leaves him alone. He is required to sit on a stump the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it. He cannot cry out for help to anyone. Once he survives the night, he is a MAN.

He cannot tell the other boys of this experience because each lad must come into manhood on his own. The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely be all around him. Maybe even some human will do him harm. The wind blows the grass and earth, and shakes his stump, but he sits stoically, never removing the blindfold. It is the only way he can become a man!

Finally, after a horrific night the sun appears and he removes his blindfold. It is then that he discovers his father sitting on the stump next to him. He has been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm. We, too, are never alone. Even when we don't know it, God is watching over us, sitting on the stump beside us.

for anna for laughs

the light was low
the air was clear
the conversation sweet
when you and I
a passing car
did chance upon to meet
its occupants
some three or four
enjoyed the air as well
for out the door
leaned one young man
and yelled clear as a bell:

woohoo! *whistle*

come august

next door a room sits empty
like the one on down the hall
another friend has moved away
a voice has ceased to call

like furrows in the sand remain
the marks upon her door
where posters then called out her name
the paint is still once more

as an echo in the hallway comes
i think i hear her voice
perhaps we two could sit awhile
but now i have no choice

the mem'ries stir from time to time
some good, some ill--all past
the life we shared within these walls
was never meant to last

the impossible dream

"When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? To surrender dreams--this may be madness; to seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness! But maddest of all--to see life as it is and not as it should be." ~Man of La Mancha

from childhood, i remember the story of an errant knight, so frustrated with the world gone wrong that, losing touch with reality, he sets out to seek beauty and bring right to all. he sees windmills as giants, bowls as helmets, a poor man as his squire and friend, and even a prostitute as a lady. chasing his ideals brings him joy yet the world is not content that he should run after lofty castles in the sky, and they "cure" him, turning him back to seeing life as it is. but in the end, we see that his expectations--his looking beyond what everyone took for granted--has actually worked, causing the prostitute to change, to become the lady he believed her to be.
how often have i looked past the gutter in which we all live, believing we can touch the stars. when i taught, i was censored for "expecting too much" out of the teenagers, believing they could do something more than everyone assumed. someone told me the other day not to insist on behavior from a child because, after all, they were just a child. and experience, the bitter taskmaster has taken his shields of mirrors and shown me that, perhaps, my ideals are but illusions of insanity. i have lost friends, seen clearly my own failures, an witnessed the deaths of hopes and dreams as the mirrors mock me.
is it simply that i expect too much--both from myself and others, life in general? or in this dark night am i fighting a battle against an attempt to thwart my following of the quest?
as the knight, now merely a dying man, lies in bed at the end of the movie, his squire and his lady remind him of the ideals, the dreams he once dreamt, and more essentially, the success those dreams had. each time i watch it i lean slightly forward, hoping he will remember, wanting him to believe even though i know it's not true. why? because the only thing worth dying for is change--bringing life into the way it should be, the way that was lost so long ago in a garden.

"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!" ~from I Cor 13, the Msg

His heart is good

II Samuel 12.20-22
David got up from the floor, washed his face and combed his hair, put on a fresh change of clothes, then went into the sanctuary and worshiped. Then he came home and asked for something to eat. They set it before him and he ate. His servants asked him, "What's going on with you? While the child was alive you fasted and wept and stayed up all night. Now that he's dead, you get up and eat." "While the child was alive," he said, "I fasted and wept, thinking God might have mercy on me and the child would live."
When I want something I often don't ask, not because I don't think it's valid but I doubt that the one I'm asking loves me enough to give it or to change their course simply because I am asking. David knew that God abounded in lovingkindess, that He was good to those who didn't deserve it, and moreover that He loved David specifically. Therefore David, even though he knew he had sinned, asked. And when God still said no he worshiped.
When I say, "Your will be done", do I really believe His will is the best? and for my good? If indeed I believe His heart is good, personally for me, then I will ask--believing that what He chooses will be the very best.

word of the day

barbed arrows

dan and jodie wrapped up class until september...the following are some thoughts that hit home and are chaffing within...
*first we must have covenant, commitment to one another, for the love thing to work
*"unity is a condition, not a goal"--"maintaining the oneness (that all parties agreed on in the covenant) brings maturity"
*love is a deliberate choice...and should be visible
*so then i ask the question: what to do when the other party(s) decide not to continue in the covenant?
*well, back to earlier lessons, i am to love as Christ loved/s me: unconditionally; this includes loving when the other person doesn't love me back
*ask the question of the other person: "what do you need in order to be loved today?"
*with the note: "if you are under someone's judgment it is almost impossible to remain in relationship"
*remember: God never changes. therefore, His command to me to love my neighbor doesn't change. and so, somehow, i can grow in loving even if i don't feel loved back, and even if i don't want to.

a day late...

psalm 88

God, you're my last chance of the day.
I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
take notes on the trouble I'm in.
I've had my fill of trouble;
I'm camped on the edge of hell.
I'm written off as a lost cause,
one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
I'm a black hole in oblivion.
You've dropped me into a bottomless pit,
sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I'm battered senseless by your rage,
relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
made me horrible to them.
I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out,
blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

I call to you, God; all day I call.
I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?


I'm standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I've been hurting;
I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
I'm bleeding, black-and-blue.
You've attacked me fiercely from every side,
raining down blows till I'm nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
the only friend I have left is Darkness.

the hollywood theatre

(26 june 2009)

unique facade captures eyes
within the city's bustle
old-time feel
in the midst of progress
slanting floors
curtained walls
seats upholstered in 26
echoing when the movies pause
of times and tears long past
a different age
life booming
cities growing
while today people hurry by
ignoring the smile
a hopeful yesterday
in the gloom of tomorrow

signs of the times

...love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father. [...] We have seen the best of our time: machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us quietly to our graves...

courtship

she hides a smile
behind her hand
while all the time
he dances round

his antics charm
and even please her
but from her place
she never stirs

until worn out
he gives it up
sits down and sighs
at his poor luck

then she gently
with maiden grace
extends her hand
lifts up his face

a thought for Father's Day

on Saturday, the Oregonian ran an article (D4, 20 June 2009) entitled "Iconic film dads spin idea of fatherhood". separating into 8 categories, they listed what they consider "notable cinematic dads" (promoting DVD/Blu-ray rentals). the list is somewhat woeful if you think, "so this is the role model fathers in the US have to look up to?"
i submit one other (and welcome your contributions, should you read and have a thought): the father in Miss Potter. he is supportive of his daughters aspirations, even if he doesn't at first think they will succeed. he encourages her not just to follow her dreams but to become a strong woman. he loves his wife, even as she is frustrating and domineering. anyway, there is more but you will have to see it and decide for yourself.

the day after summer solstice

today the sun begins
it's slow descent southward
bidding farewell
to northern skies
the morning tide
paid homage
a long draw back
lower than ever before
in spite of warm rays
a cool breeze chills
foretelling the journey's end
in winter's cold embrace

then come, winter
follow summer, fall
each season the sun brings
unique in wondrous beauty
speak change within and out
as time marches on

hmmm

1. He loves me.
2. I love Him.
3. I obey Him.
4. He is well-pleased with me.

somewhere deep down we truly want to rest in the knowledge that we are loved just for being who we are; not for anything we did, do, or can/will do. we want to be enjoyed. and if we know that love from someone of course we want to please them by doing what they want us to. not out of obligation, but simply because we love them in return.
yet twisted as this screwy world is, we live in doubt because we think most (almost all) of our relationships are based on need--either you need me (and i give and thereby feel affirmed) or i need you. rarely, oh so rarely are we content that you love me and i love you regardless.
i want to cultivate such relationships, because that is what He modeled. i hope beyond hope that there are people out there who want to as well (because i can't relate on my own!).

reeling

for bak and pma

how wrong i've been
all along
how blind
i thought our lives
intertwined
in mutual enjoyment
but now you say
i needed you
bothered you
a parasitic fly
or resented burden
those times together
over now
our friendship
must change

how sad i am
to say goodbye
to what i thought we had
i love you still
i always will
just let me cry awhile

parade!

feet marching in time
smiles on faces
the young and old
united in timeless joy
marveling anew
as the parade passes

delight at sights
strange and wonderful
tacky yet dazzling
the horns blare
off-key notes
still stir hearts

for a moment
we are neighbors

futher thoughts on loneliness...kind of...

what is it that creates a desire in us to be unique, special?
this yearning to stand out from the crowd, to be different and loved for just being us?
is it part of being human?
is it fallen wants?
“See, to him, there's only two women: your mother and everyone else” from Big Fish
“And you knew that, if only that person *really* knew you, they would, well, they would of course dump the perfect model that they were with, and realize that YOU were the one that they wanted to, just, grow old with.” from While You Were Sleeping
so if this desire is innate, what is the mature answer? b/c He loves us all the same...or does He? we are taught that but Rom 9.13 makes a distinction. but say He does, how do we let go of the desire to be special, different?
and the natural angst to be married, apparent in a clear majority of people, is partly the desire for one other person to love us more than anyone else in the world. and how do we let go of this if celibacy is our pathway?
thoughts?

a psalm for today

part of #6, courtesy the message

Please, God, no more yelling,
no more trips to the woodshed.
Treat me nice for a change;
I'm so starved for affection.

Can't you see I'm black-and-blue,
beat up badly in bones and soul?
God, how long will it take
for you to let up?

Break in, God, and break up this fight;
if you love me at all, get me out of here.
I'm no good to you dead, am I?
I can't sing in your choir if I'm buried in some tomb!

I'm tired of all this—so tired.
My bed has been floating forty days and nights
On the flood of my tears.
My mattress is soaked, soggy with tears.
The sockets of my eyes are black holes;
nearly blind, I squint and grope.

monday poem

my heart

it's a funny thing
it's beating still
although the music
fades away
i can't believe
it still survives
when no food
i've given it
the faintest whisper
smallest morsel
sustains it
for weeks
when i've abandoned
all hope or dreams
a simple word
and it lurches up

i may bind it
disillusion it
or break it
but still it flutters

how can something so fragile
be so strong?

some thoughts on love...

can you love someone without trusting them?
can you love God without trusting Him?
if i argue that i can love someone, like a child, but not trust them where does this lack of trust come from? well, it comes from a position of superiority--b/c i as the adult/parent knows better than the child. similar with a destructive habit in another person--i don’t trust them in that area b/c i know better. or perhaps they have hurt me and so i don't trust them b/c i know better--they may hurt me again.
so then it’s dangerous to say yes, i can love God without trusting Him. b/c following the above argument i would be saying i know better than God, which is impossible.
and then even when Jesus knew better, He often still trusted people (example of Judas), letting them hurt Him.
so moving to be more like Him i will love beyond trust for people, as well as love in trust Him...

20 May 2009

(today's entry from Praying God's Word... by Beth Moore)

Our heartbreaks really aren't anyone else's responsibility. They are Christ's. Remember, He came to bind up the brokenhearted.

Father, I am struggling. I feel that You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend. Lord, show me wonders in this place of darkness and reveal to me Your righteousness in this land of oblivion. Let them draw me to Your light (Ps. 88.12,18). Please come and rescue me. Be my closest companion and my dearest loved one.

loneliness (in concrete form)

loneliness

i run my fingers
slowly
along each petal
the delicate surface
bending and bowing
beneath my skin
i wonder at the vulnerability
of the moment as
i begin to bleed
an unseen thorn
piercing my soft flesh
drawing life away
from my body
but i know
there cannot be
this beauty without
this ache
missing something
losing something
wanting something
i can never have
and i find
being
lonely
can
be

exquisite

“And it was just a few years ago that I finally realized that friendship is not a remedy for loneliness. Loneliness is a part of our experience and if we are looking for relief from loneliness in friendship, we are only going to frustrate the friendship. Friendship, camaraderie, intimacy, all those things, and loneliness live together in the same experience...” ~Rich Mullins

In memorium: Inconvenient Death

The sun is setting here, it’s dying rays glowing on my face. My living, breathing face. For I am still alive and I’m thinking of you, gone.
You weren’t a close friend, by any means. Our lives had long since gone separate ways. So grief would not be the correct description of the emotion churning within me. No, puzzlement comes closest to defining it. Feeling confused because I cannot understand or make sense of your death.
If you were here, in this still room watching the sunset with me I would ask about those last moments. You, in the small trailer, perhaps with your arms around the man you had at last found. Hearing the storm pounding, the pieces of debris hitting the walls harder than an angry man can throw. They say the sound of a tornado is like a freight train coming straight at you.
Did you hear the sound? Did you think, “This is it. The end.”?
Did you feel fear of judgment on poor decisions? I hope you made your peace with God.
Did you wonder at the inconvenience of it all? I mean, you had sacrificed some ideals to get what you wanted desperately. So much must have seemed like it was finally going your way. Even if you were doing things you might now regret.
Did you ask God, “Why now? When everything is finally starting to work out?”
My way. Perhaps therein lies the key. His timing puzzles me but that is because I see things my way and His ways are not my ways. Nothing is inconvenient when seen from His perspective. Even death.
Every life, every relationship is meaningful. I must accept the nature of the relationship today, rather than hope for a tomorrow that may never come.
Every day I have the choice to choose Him, or my own selfish desires. But my way only ends in death, yet still in His timing.
Every task He gives is important. Rather than wait for success and accolades that lie in a nebulous future, I must put my hand to the grindstone and serve with joy.
Every moment is an opportunity to see beauty. Merely a training ground for eternity.
What do you see?

costly transformation

you shake your head
and turn to leave
words hover
to call you back
but pain
behind my eyes
rising from the wounds
you cannot see
blinds me
so I remain dumb
nurse the slow drops
with awkward swathes

maybe next time
you will stay here
real commitment
or not

how can I demand
what I refuse to give?

the wild blue yonder

we sit

poised at the edge

the runway grey outside
the engines whine
trembling roar through my spine
then released
like a stone thrown
we gather speed
hurtling toward a dead end
the wheels shaking my body
until

with a lurch

(like breaking through)
we jump
airborne
the bumps immaterialize
light feeling shivers through
as a smile creeps upon my face
out the plexiglass
fields fade to quilts
twisting and bumping
we dance through the clouds
until the whine becomes
a purr of gliding

flying away

jousting with words

The man hobbled up a street. Urchins passed him, paying the attention a river pays a twig. His eyes blazed clear, belying his weak demeanor.
(140 characters exactly)

His hand dropped to his side. “I see. Then there’s no use arguing, I suppose.”
She shook her head but her hand stayed steady. “No.”
(131)

my friend callie

the other night as i lay in bed i was thinking about the games we play with people. when we can approach them, how to approach them, all the intricate contortions through which we put ourselves in order to (hopefully) not offend, and thereby preserve the relationship. and then i thought of my friend callie.
she most likely will never read this so i thought to wax eloquent on how privileged i am to know her.
callie is generous. she shares her chocolate, her clothes, her car, her bed (in a good way), her time, her money (which is not much, i know!), her food. and she never makes you feel that she wants something in return or that your request is a burden. i know that at any time i could go knock on her door--even wake her in the middle of the night!--and she would be quick to want to respond.
callie is direct, and values open communication. this not always being my strongsuit (i must admit i do use inference and hints quite a bit, but you would have to know me pretty well to know that!) it has taken some time for us to work past our different confrontation styles. but i know that she will tell me when something is bothering her. and she will not be content with lies or hypocrisy. this means you can know, really know, where you stand with her and not have to approach her as if a bomb were about to explode and for the life of you you can’t remember if it was the red or the green wire (and of course, in the back of your mind is the sneaky suspicion that you are color-blind!).
callie is a great cook, decent seamstress, extroverted, the life of the party, as well as a host of other things (hey, maybe i should write her a match.com profile! j/k).
anyway, in a world where the dance steps are too often missed and the music can seem out of tune, i am privileged to be friends with an amazing woman of God who can sing on key.

on rainy days...

the evening greys in the falling rain. headlights make yellow-white shimmers on the wet pavement. “reason why” plays in the background as thoughts wander through my head like drips down the window.
what is this crazy thing, this soul we all wrestle through? sometimes i think the big events in life are the small things, the smile we give to an aching heart, the way we look at a friend, and really see them.
the droop to the lonely person walking down the street tugs at my heart. i know your pain, i feel it in this amorphous place within, my soul. joy, peace, satisfaction, love at times all seem to elude me. yet on the other hand i know they are as close as the mention of His name. can i say it? how practically do i say goodbye to the dreams half-remembered, never realized? how do i live in today and forget my longings for tomorrow?
the rain washes my world clean, soaking into the thirsty ground, bringing life for flowers to grow. can i lift my eyes to find that all i believe is true?

(since i missed monday, here's a tuesday thought)

in heaven, someone will always be there to meet me. i will never arrive at an airport and either scan the crowd in vain, my heart sinking, or walk with sad step toward the luggage, knowing none await.
how i long for heaven...here on earth.

"Are you happy?"

She thought about it, her gaze drifting away from his... "No, not precisely," she said. "But I don't believe I wish to complain of unhappiness." She paused a minute, looking at the thoughts that had been with her constantly for the weeks since she had left her old life as a bundle across Fireheart's withers. "It is that I cannot see what I am doing or why, and it is unsettling always to live only in the moment as it passes. Oh, I know--one never sees ahead or behind. But I see even less. It is like being blindfolded when everyone else in the room is not. No one can see outside the room--but everyone else can see the room. I would like to take my blindfold off."
~Robin McKinley The Blue Sword

...because, on earth, he had come to know Him, that he had a relational encounter with God not unlike meeting a friend or a lover or having a father or taking a bride, and that in order to engage God he gave up everything, repented and changed his life, as this sort of extreme sacrifice is what is required if true love is to grow.
~Donald Miller Searching for God Knows What

in other words

1 corinthians 13.1-8a

①if i can speak spanish but don’t love the spanish-speakers, i might as well be speaking greek.

②if i can see where my friend’s poor decisions are leading and am sure how each story ends, but don’t love him/her, i’m zilch.

③and if i serve people, doing whatever they need, dying to my wants and needs, but never love them, it gets me no points.

④love waits; love acts kindly even when the loved loves someone else more, love doesn’t make comparisons; love doesn’t look out for #1 all the time,

⑤or try to get all the attention. love’s first thought is not for its own comfort, and when people hurt love, it doesn’t keep score or get mad.

⑥love is sad when people choose evil but ecstatic when truth wins.

⑦love carries on no matter what the load, believes people can change, hopes they will, and walks alongside even if they don’t.

⑧love never, never, never stops loving.

a sunny monday in eternity...

i feel the bright sun like an elixar lift my spirits, soaring above my cares.
alright, then. so i see in me the failing coping mechanisms that hurt others. scratching deeper i see the fears of abandonment, the scars of rejection that spew out the defensive strategies of independence, jealousy, escapism. but deeper still i see that He is in me. He desires change. healing.
so how? practically, how? well, how did He do it? after all, He experienced everything i am, have or will experience...yet without in turn causing pain. He hung up there and said that a thief will see paradise. no angry words.
i close my eyes as the next thought takes me captive.
He said, “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” forgive them. forgive them. forgive the people that hurt me without realizing they are doing it. forgive the people that hurt me because they are broken and hurting and, like a dog in pain lash out against the very hand that longs to heal. forgive the people that don’t know how to love me. forgive the people that i don’t know how to love and so feel only hurt because of my raw places.
i shiver, even though the sun is warm.
such love, such forgiveness...it’s too grand, i can barely take it in. but i glimpse it. this morning, in this sunlight, i see a another piece of what it would mean to love with abandon, a love that transforms.
“Father, forgive ______; he/she doesn’t know what he/she’s doing.”

seagull

he stands
face to the sea
proud neck held high
shimmering reflection
white and grey
embraced by wet sand
surveying calmly
his domain
his favorite snack
a tasty crab
he rules the sky,
the sand, the surf
king of the beach

thirty, flirty and thrivin'

happy birthday to me!
so today i turn the big 3-0.
as i ruefully reflected
on my odds in all
the world says matters
for a woman--
marriage, career, etc.--
i said screw it.
i am in better shape
than i was ten years ago.
i have more significant friends
than ever before.
my life is at an amazingly
broken place where
i am learning to trust God
for everything.
the community i live in
is wonderful, supportive
and challenging.
and i wouldn’t trade
these past thirty years
for the house with a picket fence
and a husband and kids.
i have enjoyed my adventures.
whether i have
3,
10,
or 30 more years
i plan on living in each moment
knowing in His timing
the desires of my heart
will be fulfilled.
happy birthday to me!

on blondes...

...also known as telling on myself.
'tis the season for foolishness and lately it has struck me how God made me with a laugh tucked in His mouth. I am, humbly, fairly intelligent. school was fairly easy for me and i can do most things that involve brain energy...well, easily.
but some days i am very blonde. blonde in the sense that i open my mouth and find that either my brain disconnected momentarily or i am just plain silly in certain areas. i say things that, well, defy explanation. here are some examples:
"would you like me to put on a pot of hot?"
(in response to discussion about portugese-speaking countries) "yeah, like the dutch east indies company!"
"all birds are carnivores."
(to a friend's grandmother who was concerned about his upcoming trip) "yeah! that's where the tsunami hit the worst!"
(this made the room go red) "it is possible to know a person in the biblical sense."
"my hair dries naturally."
yes, those are some of the infamous moments. and recently i've realized it is God's humorous way of keeping me humble in the area of my brain. i mean, if i can make such idiotic faux pas, how can i be proud of my intelligence? it's merely one "false step" and i have opened mouth, inserted foot.
but i have learnt to laugh at my blonde moments and realize that God is pretty good to have given me such a fun speech impediment...and to have made me blonde, albeit a dirty one at that!
=D

fun for monday

just a little messing around with a story scene...thought i'd try something other than poetry for this monday (yes, i'm posting on sunday b/c this monday i have to work).

Michael never knew what hit him. He walked out of the anteroom, looking for Anne’s green eyes to reflect his readiness to leave this place. Overstaying his welcome never appealed to him, as people responded well to his cavalier attitude when it came in small doses. Anne knew this, and kept herself ready for his quick departures, although he knew she often wanted to stay longer. From across the room, he saw her face light up as she saw him enter, although in an instant he detected a mischevious note in her face, not a good sign for an early departure. 

Before he could think of the reason for her quirky look, James put his arm around his shoulder. Michael, always ready for a hug responded and then felt James tense and try to pull him to the ground. Wrestling! Immediately their bodies kicked in instinct, and the fight began in earnest. Michael never stopped to ask why James would bother to tackle him; why at this moment when things had been going smoothly he would try to conquer him and show his greater strength, no, he merely fought back, passionately, intensely, like everything else in life he put his whole heart into the frivilous spat.

Lost in the moment, he forgot his desire to leave, to be done with this evening and all the nuances. He gave himself up to the task, moving and grasping, trying to get a good hold on James’s wiry frame. James always relied on squirming around, hoping his quick moves would tire out the stronger opponent. Michael, knowing this, focused his strength as a bulldog, working each hold to full advantage and pressing James toward the floor. 

Dimly, Michael heard Anne call out a warning as they neared the edge of the balcony, but even her eyes had been lost in the consuming focus of the match. The scream, which followed a sense of weightlessness stopped his heart for an instant. In that instant, he realized the edge of the balcony no longer supported his feet and he prayed. The arms that caught them felt like angels and they scrambled back up with thanks beating in tune to their hearts.

can it be?

i stand beneath

a sky of glass

reflecting back

my aching gaze

beyond the mirror 

i know there lies

a different view

i am seen

and heard

and understood

but still i stand

my cries like images

thrown up

fall back

upon my eyes

i turn to silence

as if by still

i can move

break the glass

see the sun

"...God left him alone only to test him, that He might know all that was in his heart." 

II Chronicles 32.31b

curiosity

round a corner

down a trail

finding secrets

hidden info

pouncing on facts

stalking knowledge

the tasty meal

a mousy treat

my prey and I

our delicate dance

all seems well

until

it's gone too far

8 down, 1 to go

scrub. spray. wipe.

i clean bathrooms. i have seen more brown stains than i care to remember, smelled more foul odors that turn stomachs, and learnt more about people's toiletry habits than i ever wanted to know. it has been a humbling job to have, and this week i realized it's a metaphor for my life.

some days it seems that as much as i clean, the stains never go away. and anyway, in a few minutes someone else will use it, dirty the sink, fill the garbage and i will have to start over again. and thus in life, i work. i pray. i try. i try some more. and then someone says something and i respond incorrectly and i am doing the very thing i hate.

sadly, i know by the very attitude that of course i need to clean more bathrooms--it still hasn't worked; i'm still not humble yet. so i guess it's His faithfulness, when i say "but, God..." and He says, "scrub." "but i have a Masters!" "spray," He replies. "but there must be something more noble, more useful, more stirring, more something!" and He points to the rag, "wipe."

some days all i want to do is run away. from the people i love. from the people who love me. from everyone else. but i clean bathrooms. maybe i will never do anything else. but if i die humble, maybe in the grand scheme of things it will be worth it.

butterfly

i knelt

in a field alive

colors dancing

still

almost breathless

as he tripped

his merry way

hesitating

unsure

my face new and strange

then suddenly

he lit

upon my arm

trembling feather

a moment of trust

before

he fluttered away

several random thoughts

*i really enjoy JJ Heller's music. the concert was awesome and listening to one of the cd's i bought...wow. check out these lyrics:
"Your Hands"
I have unanswered prayers
I have trouble I wish wasn't there
And I have asked a thousand ways
That You would take my pain away
That You would take my pain away

I am trying to understand
How to walk this weary land
Make straight the paths that crookedly lie
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

When You walked upon the Earth
You healed the broken, lost, and hurt
I know You hate to see me cry
One day You will set all things right
Yea, one day You will set all things right

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

Your hands
Your hands that shape the world
Are holding me, they hold me still
Your hands that shape the world
Are holding me, they hold me still

*it is great to worship. especially in a new place, with new people, away from the problems...

*snow in march in portland is just plain weird.

*bus drivers who have had too much caffeine are funny. "i had my coffee and a rock star! i'm doing great" "wow, you used 2 big words! i only expect monosyllabic words from people in the morning" (note that this was at 11.15am, not early)

*seattle's best is not the best.

*sleep is good.

when love fails...

One of the ironically beautiful things about the way we human beings were created is our capacity to love and our insatiable need for relationships. The barb comes as we fail time and again to be successful at the constant stream of lives that weave in and out of our days. In addition, a myriad of things constantly tempt us to put love for others and God aside in search for health, happiness, and money. In the movie, There Will Be Blood, the characters face Greed and fail to choose rightly.

Lord Acton said, "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." The two main characters find the power that comes through greed and gaining what they want destroys them. In their search for selfish gain, to be lords of their own lives they find that in the end they are merely slaves, willing to give anything to get what they "need".

The protagonist, Daniel Plainview, has come to the place in his life where he believes humans are worthless. He claims to only see "the worst in people" and desires enough money to get away from everyone. At the same time, he claims to be a family man to an orphan boy, masquerading him as his son. His only tender moments come through his desire for this child to love him unconditionally, and tears at learning of his estranged brother's death. People are merely tools, means to the end of gain. He is fair, mostly, because he enjoys people begging and being indebted and he realizes that to play fair can be used to his advantage. In the end, he gets what he wants: enough money to push everyone away, to see all his enemies fallen...but he cannot gain the subservience of his "son". He spends his days in a drunken stupor, perhaps to numb away the awareness that what he desired did not bring fulfillment, but rather emptiness.

Only the other side of the coin smiles Eli Sunday, preacher to a cultic "Church of the 3rd Revelation". At the beginning, he seems to be truly passionate about his church, but his true ambitions show through quickly. Desiring people to follow him--regardless of their sincerity and heart motives (evidenced through his acceptance of Daniel as a convert)--he thirsts after the money to make him a big preacher. He has enough insight to discern where people hurt, revealing Daniel's insecurities about his "son", and he thinks that everyone will love him if he gives them what they need and want. 

At two crucial moments, both Daniel and Eli are willing to say anything and do anything to get what they want. Daniel agrees to "get religion" and be baptized if it means he can put the pipeline on the land to the coast. Eli is willing to deny God and his calling as a preacher in order to get money to continue his prestige. The difference is that only Daniel gets what he compromises for; Eli finds a bait and switch as Daniel lies to him about the offer. His dying cries of "we're brothers" are true, for both have sold their souls for what they think satisfies, and found nothing.

Sadly, we all want love on our own terms, demanding affection from friends, family, and loved ones to satisfy us. We refuse to accept love that corrects or comes in different ways. The only minor redemptive character is H.W., "son" to Daniel who offers unconditional love to Daniel even when it is refused.

There Will Be Blood reminds me of a book by Martha Kilpatrick called All and Only. In her insightful work on the sovereignty of God, she notes that what we fear we worship and give ourselves too. In fighting so much to be independent of the love of people--because ultimately he fears their rejection--Daniel builds a hell for himself. In fearing people won't love him Eli builds an equal hell in which he must continue his pretense of power or he will be rejected. We can push everyone away in hopes they will never push us away or we can graspingly make them dependent on us so they can never push us away. But the fear will never leave us, because beneath it all will be the nagging thought that this isn't really escape--it's just avoidance. 

Loving people involves failure. In means yet another conversation in which you have to apologize, forgive, extend love that may be rejected. Love is the most vulnerable place to be, and inevitably hurts come. But in the currency of heaven it is never a waste. Even in pain, the riches of love are immeasurable. I wouldn't have it any other way, I've decided. There will be blood, but because of the Blood I can love.