in a dry and weary land

There is something about not having it that makes you want it all the more. I had heard about the drought in California; heard tales hearkening back to Steinbeck-esque days. The hushed chatter in the supermarkets in lush Willamette Valley spoke of wine prices soaring and oranges becoming treats for stockings once again. But somehow when late winter rains drench the soggy ground with yet another soaking, dry and sunny can seem like a tale out of school.
Then I moved here.
The highway miles slipped away like drops of water in a stream, broken only by the slow-down for a border crossing more difficult than entry into some countries. After assuring the efficient officer that the last thing I was doing was smuggling lemons into the state I sped on to find a rest area to enjoy some lunch and fill up my water bottle.
Did I mention they have a drought going on in this state?
The welcoming rest area sat beside a scenic wetland. Well, according to the sign it was a wetland. Now it was more of a dry-land. The worst was yet to come when, thirsty from lunch and miles of driving I optimistically pushed on the drinking fountain. Dry. Completely and utterly dry. Enormous signs in the WC proclaimed danger to anyone attempting to drink the water coming out of the tab as it was somehow clean enough to wash your hands but too dirty to drink.
I soldiered on to the next major town and drove through a fast-food joint to buy a drink as an excuse to get a big water as well. They informed me that the water, should I desire it in anything other than the 2-sip size, cost just as much as the soda pop. Dry.
Signs line the highway in the central valley; farmers protesting the lack of water. As if the government could make it rain. Reservoirs look like muddy valleys (see the above picture). I jealously guard my water bottle and keep it near me often. Even when a rainy day cleans the air and breathes just a sigh of hope, someone reminds me it is not enough. Here they need years of rain to undo the dry days.
I long for the rain, for drenching downpours and water to drink until I thirst no more. Once you have lived in lush, green wetness you can never be satisfied with dry. I have tasted and seen. The marvel is that in spite of the dry, flowers bloom. Even in the midst of hardship He brings blessings, and unlike nature He never fails.

that stupid dress

i recently learnt, much to my dismay, that i do not see as well as i thought. yes, i'm in good company with 70% of the population but, to one whose personality is only 2% shared, that is not a comfort. it's a little bit akin to the first time you step into a room of people who are all communicating in a language you do not speak. you feel frustrated that you cannot understand and you feel compelled to try as hard as possible to do so. unlike the colors that i see, it is possible to overcome the feeling of being an outsider and learn to grow and belong. you can master the customs and the language, learn to enjoy the food and culture. yet, as with the limitations of my eyesight, i must remember that i can only go so far.
today i stepped into a local shopping chain geared toward hispanic cuisine and felt wonderfully whisked away to another country in which people actually knew what a cherimoya was. as i reveled in the narrow aisles and the language i could understand all around me i felt at home. being a gypsy means you have no home, and so, ironically, you feel most content when that is most apparent.
as my bag grew heavier a sad thought pushed in, marring the experience. i do not see as well as i thought. i am used to being stared at when i look different, but it is most often a look of interest and curiosity. here, in the land where i am judged to be the majority by color of my skin, i felt a bit of hostility coming from some of the people. perhaps merely my perception--no one was rude or anything. but it was as if i did not belong. instead of that not-belonging being welcomed, as my sight cleared i realized that i was viewed a bit as a trespasser--trying to speak a language not my own, enjoy the fruits of another land, marvel at new sights; in short, i was viewed as a tourist.
tourism is all well and good, but i resist that label even when it fits. i like to think that i adapt more, see the culture as it is more, live like a local more. but maybe i do not see as well as i thought. maybe i am blind to my inability to relate to those who feel judged and insulted by people that look like me. and that makes me think all the more that the answer to racism is not being color-blind: it is love. love of a world full of different people with different tastes and experiences. love of a Savior who loves us all regardless.

lead on

the way is long and dark
my legs are weary too
but with my trusty light
i will help guide you

i'm learning as i go
i'm not too far ahead
but all i know i'll share
this faithful daily bread

and when you stumble hard
as i am sure you will
i'll share the time i fell
or wait beside you still

you see though i seem strong
my strength is not my own
i lead because i know
the One upon the throne

the way He led on earth
was serving those around
and so i help you now
on the path we both have found

the way is getting brighter
though my feet are cold and sore
any help i gladly offer
'til we reach the other shore

You complete me

click. with a simple press of a button a shimmering screen transports me to a world where a girl at the end of hope finds her prince has come to rescue her. where the girl who has nothing somehow, against all odds, attracts the the man who has everything. lines like, "i've been looking for you all night. i think, somehow, i've been looking for you all my life," thrill the heart of millions of girls hoping that this imaginary man exists somewhere, apart from the smelly breath, insensitive comments, gamer boys all around. she hopes that he will come, be the one to complete her, to sweep her into his arms, to repair the wounds that a world at war with beauty has made, and above all to love her.
click. the movie or television show always ends. before the dirty dishes and chores left undone. before the words spoken in haste that cannot be erased. before the failures that not only he but she will make. before real life unfolds.
so what then? do we as women throw out the ideal, the belief that some man exists who will hold us, never let us go and always, always love us? do we embrace cynicism tinged with feminism that while it will not keep us warm at night at least it will keep us right? in such a dichotomy my generation balances with frightening efficacy: either we chase an illusion ignoring reality or we accept defeat ignoring hope and both blind us to truth.
the truth is we were made to desire love and when we realise that His love completes, endures, and transforms us we can accept that like us, all whom we love will make mistakes. should we find "true love" in this life we can aspire to be a picture of the One whose arms encompass His bride, and yet we can also offer mercy and grace to each other as well recognise the imperfect world in which we live. 

Sundry Chiang Mai Travel Tips

It is easy to begin speaking in superlatives when you visit Chiang Mai in January. The air is clear (if you get there before the burning starts), the sun is warm, the sky is blue, the trees and flowers are vibrant and the temperature is a balmy 26C/80F on average. Unfortunately, it's no secret how lovely it is here and a short walk around the old town will have you craving a few less tourists. Fortunately, through having a local friend and some good tips I pass on a few ideas to get off the beaten path, save some money, and/or find some peaceful beauty.

A practical tip first off: The Promenada Resort Mall on the east/southeast side of town offers a free, yes, free shuttle every hour to the Thapae Gate. If you happen to be staying outside of the main area, or you want to visit a big mall, or you just get dropped off there by a friend it is a useful and nice service. The Song Taow was clean and there was no catch. I rode it in and then, a couple hours later, rode it back (the stop near the gate is the Amora Thapae Hotel). It stops on the way back at two other places, one of which is near the night bazaar. At the weekend it runs all the way until 22.58. So if you're looking to save some taxi fare and your trajectory includes theirs, it is worth a look.

Near to Chiang Mai is the Ratchaphruek Garden Park, a large (200 acres) garden with a myriad of smaller areas ranging from orchid houses to lotus ponds. You can walk for hours and still not see everything. It is only 100Baht to get in (for foreign tourists) and if you go early enough (as many Thai do to exercise) it is even free. Arriving by 9 or 10 in the morning you beat the crowds and can enjoy the peaceful surroundings. More information.

Souvenirs are often on the mind in Thailand, and one small side-street in the old town holds a hidden gem. Dor-Dek is an organization committed to rescuing street children and educating and employing them. Their prices are reasonable, their items are cute, and you are supporting a good cause. To get there, simply head directly west from Thaphae Gate and keep following the main street until the intersection with Rachaphakhina Rd (WaWeecoffee and Yamaha on opposite corners). Take a left on this road and turn right on the first little side street. It is a building or two in on the right.

Waterfalls dance in abundance in the hills surrounding Chiang Mai, but if you are willing to go a bit further out of town there is one worth the drive. Bua Tong Waterfall is north/northeast of the city about 40km. The stream cascades down level after level of polished limestone, which in most places is not slippery. Take off your shoes and enjoy a climb up the rocks. Steeper/slippery spots often have ropes to assist. This can get crowded on the weekend or when it's hot. Try a quiet weekday. No charge and there are bathrooms and concessions at the parking area. Location.

Chiang Mai is beautiful. I enjoyed my stay and I hope you will as well. Feel free to add any tips you know of to my list!

echoes

behind the crumbling stones lay a king
regal air in spite of a decaying facade
gazing beyond the melee of aliens
besieged by locals scrambling for silver
caught between graves robbed and
simply trying to make ends meet
camels rise and fall in endless servitude
slaves to the whim of cruel or kind masters
warding off the sands of time
beyond the still stones resisting oblivion
swarms of buildings rise piling one on
another with windows unfinished
cars honking and jostling for advantage
life in all its sordid glory gasps, fights
holding on to the whisper of a hope
past days of splendor yet to come

Dartmoor

sometimes loneliness is a gift
when the world slows down
quiets long enough to listen
when I am forced to talk to the only One
there
the only One who always listens
behind the worlds He waits
when I run out
when nothing distracts
I start to listen too and to
these hilly rugged moments
where grasses crushed by wind
by rain, by foot and hoof
still embrace the sunshine
turning blades toward the southern sea
pause
finding when feeling most forsaken
I am never alone
so I lower my face to the storm
a thousand droplets like daggers
one foot at a time
when the path runs out
I step from soggy hillock over marsh
looking beyond
finding hopeful sights ahead
keeping the end in sight
one
sometimes loneliness is a gift
when my Beloved speaks
I ache to hear His voice
so I wait here awhile