Balance--ever elusive--
The tug-of-war for peace of mind--
Jumbled thoughts and actions
Never-ending expectations:
It's an Imbalancing Act.
This Year. This year I will analyze my life
(Capture it and place it in a jar--
Hoping something comes alight like fire-flies),
And determine how to tip the scale--
Some things have got to be handled.
Yes, I know.
I know what I'm looking for:
What can stay and what must go--
So now I examine the parts.
(As I have done before.)
Life strewn out on the examination table.
Pulling it apart, piece by piece,
Determining which parts are "worthy"
and which are not--it's purely objective.
Some things do not justify my time.
Cast off. Parts of my life.
Where do they end up?
Where do they go when they are discarded?
Nonetheless, the experts agree
That I will be much better off without the appendages.
Still top-heavy after days of drizzle and hard work.
I am still walking off-kilter.
I don't understand this!
I have rid myself of nearly everything--
These old, scratched spectacles alone remain.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
End of Day Ramblings
"Hello?" I answer the phone, with bobby pins in my mouth, balancing a comb and Iphone in one hand, hair spray in the other.
"Sis? Are you there yet?"
"Nope. Still at home. In the bathroom getting ready. Had a late start."
"Oh. Hey, will you tell Momma something for me, when you see her?"
"Sure."
"Just tell her I love her."
"Did you call her? She has her cell phone, I think."
"I tried. No one answered."
"Well, it's raining out today. Pretty bad. Maybe they're still en route."
"Maybe."
"I'll tell her, Amanda. I should get there right before the surgery...If they don't take her early. I'll tell her when I see her, okay?"
I can hear the relief in her voice: "Thanks, sis."
Mornings for me are difficult anyway, but getting up before dawn on a rainy morning out, thinking about my Momma and this surgery, made it even worse. I felt like I was literally forcing myself to keep going:
"Get up. You can't afford to hit the snooze again. Get up. The doctors won't wait for you. ... Get a bath. Get a towel first..." I forced myself out of bed, forced myself to the bathroom, and forced myself to keep going even when I couldn't seem to find anything I needed to make "leaving" a reality.
I called my Mother as soon as I got off of the phone with my sister.
"Momma!"
"Yes, honey? Where are you?"
"Still at the house. Are you at the hospital?"
"Yes."
I pulled my phone away and looked at the clock. Quickly calculating, I said, "I'll be there just in time, Momma. I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Just don't rush, baby. Drive safely, okay?"
"I will."
Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. I couldn't get the horrific images or thoughts out of my mind. It didn't help anything that nothing was where it should be...my two-year-old had apparently raided my purse again last night. At one point, I was tempted just to fall into the bed again--claiming it "fate" that I wasn't able to go...I even practiced saying, "It just wasn't meant to be...Nothing was working out..."
But I finally got it together. Got in the van and headed that way through the slick streets. It rained the entire way...So hard that I was afraid to turn on the radio lest I got distracted...So hard I couldn't help but thinking of the inherent dangers of the roadway. I hit standing water and the car hydroplanes...I sit straighter, eyes focusing...I slow down and get in the right lane. I will go as slow as I need to. Momma wants me there alive.
When I finally arrived, I found they had already taken Momma back for preparations to be made. I felt deflated.
Then, my sister Heather called for me. "Do you want to see her before she goes in? She's just had some happy gas..."
"Yes!" I exclaimed and rushed to meet her. They led me back through two sets of huge double doors, back to rows of rooms with sheets for doors. Momma was in the one with a giant "2" labeled above it. My sister pulled back the sheet for me and I walked in.
"Momma!" I met her stare. She was still alert. "Momma, how are you?"
"I'm so glad you're here," she said.
The attendant looked as if she needed an explanation.
My sister offered, "This is my sister, Shirley. She just drove in. Our other sister has called multiple times..."
My mom whispered, "She lives in Oklahoma City."
"Momma, Amanda called." I said, thankful for the opportunity to do as I'd promised. "She wanted me to tell you she loves you."
I saw a tear fall onto my Momma's cheek.
"We love you, Momma." I said, holding her hand.
"I love you, too," she said. I could see the fear in her eyes.
"Momma, it's gonna be okay." I said, and slipped away.
"Sis? Are you there yet?"
"Nope. Still at home. In the bathroom getting ready. Had a late start."
"Oh. Hey, will you tell Momma something for me, when you see her?"
"Sure."
"Just tell her I love her."
"Did you call her? She has her cell phone, I think."
"I tried. No one answered."
"Well, it's raining out today. Pretty bad. Maybe they're still en route."
"Maybe."
"I'll tell her, Amanda. I should get there right before the surgery...If they don't take her early. I'll tell her when I see her, okay?"
I can hear the relief in her voice: "Thanks, sis."
Mornings for me are difficult anyway, but getting up before dawn on a rainy morning out, thinking about my Momma and this surgery, made it even worse. I felt like I was literally forcing myself to keep going:
"Get up. You can't afford to hit the snooze again. Get up. The doctors won't wait for you. ... Get a bath. Get a towel first..." I forced myself out of bed, forced myself to the bathroom, and forced myself to keep going even when I couldn't seem to find anything I needed to make "leaving" a reality.
I called my Mother as soon as I got off of the phone with my sister.
"Momma!"
"Yes, honey? Where are you?"
"Still at the house. Are you at the hospital?"
"Yes."
I pulled my phone away and looked at the clock. Quickly calculating, I said, "I'll be there just in time, Momma. I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Just don't rush, baby. Drive safely, okay?"
"I will."
Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. I couldn't get the horrific images or thoughts out of my mind. It didn't help anything that nothing was where it should be...my two-year-old had apparently raided my purse again last night. At one point, I was tempted just to fall into the bed again--claiming it "fate" that I wasn't able to go...I even practiced saying, "It just wasn't meant to be...Nothing was working out..."
But I finally got it together. Got in the van and headed that way through the slick streets. It rained the entire way...So hard that I was afraid to turn on the radio lest I got distracted...So hard I couldn't help but thinking of the inherent dangers of the roadway. I hit standing water and the car hydroplanes...I sit straighter, eyes focusing...I slow down and get in the right lane. I will go as slow as I need to. Momma wants me there alive.
When I finally arrived, I found they had already taken Momma back for preparations to be made. I felt deflated.
Then, my sister Heather called for me. "Do you want to see her before she goes in? She's just had some happy gas..."
"Yes!" I exclaimed and rushed to meet her. They led me back through two sets of huge double doors, back to rows of rooms with sheets for doors. Momma was in the one with a giant "2" labeled above it. My sister pulled back the sheet for me and I walked in.
"Momma!" I met her stare. She was still alert. "Momma, how are you?"
"I'm so glad you're here," she said.
The attendant looked as if she needed an explanation.
My sister offered, "This is my sister, Shirley. She just drove in. Our other sister has called multiple times..."
My mom whispered, "She lives in Oklahoma City."
"Momma, Amanda called." I said, thankful for the opportunity to do as I'd promised. "She wanted me to tell you she loves you."
I saw a tear fall onto my Momma's cheek.
"We love you, Momma." I said, holding her hand.
"I love you, too," she said. I could see the fear in her eyes.
"Momma, it's gonna be okay." I said, and slipped away.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Reflections on Ministry
I grew up in a small town in California, the granddaughter of a the area's local minister. My grandfather, John Carl Wainwright, or "Brother Bill," as they referred to him, was the minister there in a community called Delft, just a few miles from Dinuba, California. My grandmother, Robbie Jean Williams Wainwright, was a GREAT woman of faith and example of what a godly mother and grandmother and pastor's wife should be.
My Poppa was my pastor until I was 26 years old. A few years after we moved from Dinuba to a community called Liberty, in Oklahoma, he and Grandma followed. After pastoring for a short time in Skiatook, OK, they transferred to the Muldrow church, as pastors there. When I graduated from college, I began attending Poteau First Assembly of God (OK). In 2007, I was given the opportunity to become the youth pastor there.
Just before I became youth pastor, my Poppa had to step down from ministry position there at the Muldrow Church of God. His health had been rapidly declining, and after nearly half a century as a pastor, he and Grandma retired. (I have no doubt that they would still be in the ministry today had it not been for their health. For them, the ministry is a life calling.) Shortly after my Poppa made the announcement, the congregation voted my Mother in as pastor. In the years and months prior to Poppa's resignation, she had gone ahead, in faith, and gotten her credentials. She was taken aback, to tell the truth, when she discovered she had been voted in as pastor, almost with a 100% vote.
My mother is a great pastor and woman of God. She is a GREAT and LIVING example of what FAITH is. Like her father and mother before her, she LIVES the life, "walks the walk," not just "talks the talk."
I think, certainly, the most important things I learned under their leadership included the following: a firm trust, faith, and knowledge of the Word of God; I have seen them, their example, and they should me how to "LIVE the FAITH"; they taught me to be disciplined, determined, always seeking the Will of God in everything, in every part of my life.
I have great examples.
I have had the opportunity to be under the leadership of great pastors at Poteau First Assembly. I think one of the most essential things I learned sitting under the pastorate of Keith and Cathy Williams was that it was "okay" to "BE REAL"--with yourself, with people, with the congregation. In my own work in ministry, I get that comment A LOT: "You're so 'real'!" "You just say what you're thinking, what you're going through!"...Yes, I guess I do. But that's because I saw my pastors, how open they were with us, and how much I truly appreciated the fact that they let us know that they were REAL PEOPLE with REAL STRUGGLES too. Watching them has inspired me in so many ways...But with regard to what God is calling me to do? I believe that the FREEDOM to worship, the FREEDOM to "be REAL" or be who God has called me to be has been their single greatest influence on my life.
Enough for now...But as I read over this, I am reminded of how BLESSED I have been in my lifetime to be shown the Truth...I appreciate, so much!, God's mercy and grace and love.
My Poppa was my pastor until I was 26 years old. A few years after we moved from Dinuba to a community called Liberty, in Oklahoma, he and Grandma followed. After pastoring for a short time in Skiatook, OK, they transferred to the Muldrow church, as pastors there. When I graduated from college, I began attending Poteau First Assembly of God (OK). In 2007, I was given the opportunity to become the youth pastor there.
Just before I became youth pastor, my Poppa had to step down from ministry position there at the Muldrow Church of God. His health had been rapidly declining, and after nearly half a century as a pastor, he and Grandma retired. (I have no doubt that they would still be in the ministry today had it not been for their health. For them, the ministry is a life calling.) Shortly after my Poppa made the announcement, the congregation voted my Mother in as pastor. In the years and months prior to Poppa's resignation, she had gone ahead, in faith, and gotten her credentials. She was taken aback, to tell the truth, when she discovered she had been voted in as pastor, almost with a 100% vote.
My mother is a great pastor and woman of God. She is a GREAT and LIVING example of what FAITH is. Like her father and mother before her, she LIVES the life, "walks the walk," not just "talks the talk."
I think, certainly, the most important things I learned under their leadership included the following: a firm trust, faith, and knowledge of the Word of God; I have seen them, their example, and they should me how to "LIVE the FAITH"; they taught me to be disciplined, determined, always seeking the Will of God in everything, in every part of my life.
I have great examples.
I have had the opportunity to be under the leadership of great pastors at Poteau First Assembly. I think one of the most essential things I learned sitting under the pastorate of Keith and Cathy Williams was that it was "okay" to "BE REAL"--with yourself, with people, with the congregation. In my own work in ministry, I get that comment A LOT: "You're so 'real'!" "You just say what you're thinking, what you're going through!"...Yes, I guess I do. But that's because I saw my pastors, how open they were with us, and how much I truly appreciated the fact that they let us know that they were REAL PEOPLE with REAL STRUGGLES too. Watching them has inspired me in so many ways...But with regard to what God is calling me to do? I believe that the FREEDOM to worship, the FREEDOM to "be REAL" or be who God has called me to be has been their single greatest influence on my life.
Enough for now...But as I read over this, I am reminded of how BLESSED I have been in my lifetime to be shown the Truth...I appreciate, so much!, God's mercy and grace and love.
Observations
OBSERVATION #1:
"I wish I had known you before we were dead." (From the movie, THE BUCKET LIST)
I loved this line, and the entire opening monologue, in this movie. It makes me think about a few things--people I know now, even the people I should know, or should have known...Have I kept open eyes, heart, mind, spirit, when it comes to allowing new people into my life?
It's difficult to open your heart when it feels like your brain and emotions and heart is full to overflowing already...And though I am someone who does tend to open her heart, it IS a huge responsibility for me...
And yet, what have I to learn? What might I be passing by when I fail to respond to people who come into my life for what must obviously be "a reason"?
"I wish I had known you before we were dead." (From the movie, THE BUCKET LIST)
I loved this line, and the entire opening monologue, in this movie. It makes me think about a few things--people I know now, even the people I should know, or should have known...Have I kept open eyes, heart, mind, spirit, when it comes to allowing new people into my life?
It's difficult to open your heart when it feels like your brain and emotions and heart is full to overflowing already...And though I am someone who does tend to open her heart, it IS a huge responsibility for me...
And yet, what have I to learn? What might I be passing by when I fail to respond to people who come into my life for what must obviously be "a reason"?
Friday, September 10, 2010
soooo sleepy
one twenty two on a Friday afternoon,
my eyes blink once, twice, three times--
I think I'm nodding off again...
I'm soooo sleepy
there are things I need to do,
places to see, people to go
(did I really just say that?)...
I'm soooo sleepy
if I could just get up,
stand up and shake it all off,
maybe I could reawaken, but
I'm soooo sleepy
if only I could get some fresh air--
but then I'd have to get up--
and my hind side is going to prevail in hind sight:
I'm soooo sleepy
to energize, I've got to awaken,
cast aside the burdens weighing on my mind
reject the compulsion to give up or in,
and fight against the sleep
fight against the sleep
fight against the sleep
that drags me down, pulls me in,
dares to bury me in darkness...
for though I'm sleepy, soooo sleepy,
I know the light of day must prevail.
my eyes blink once, twice, three times--
I think I'm nodding off again...
I'm soooo sleepy
there are things I need to do,
places to see, people to go
(did I really just say that?)...
I'm soooo sleepy
if I could just get up,
stand up and shake it all off,
maybe I could reawaken, but
I'm soooo sleepy
if only I could get some fresh air--
but then I'd have to get up--
and my hind side is going to prevail in hind sight:
I'm soooo sleepy
to energize, I've got to awaken,
cast aside the burdens weighing on my mind
reject the compulsion to give up or in,
and fight against the sleep
fight against the sleep
fight against the sleep
that drags me down, pulls me in,
dares to bury me in darkness...
for though I'm sleepy, soooo sleepy,
I know the light of day must prevail.
Friday, July 16, 2010
"Christina"
C :: If only I could see with His eyes, His heart...
H :: If only I could hear the heavens rejoice
R :: When one precious soul kneels in repentence.
I :: It is his love--everlasting, hopeful, comforting--
S :: Which searches for us, seeks for us, night and day,
T :: Throughout all the earth...
I :: And in that one moment, when man and Creator connect,
N :: No utterance can explain how "all is well"
A :: But it is...well...and that is the miracle of it all.
[This poem is a reminder of what happened on Wednesday, July 14, 2010. On this night, I led a precious young lady to the Lord. Her name is Christina. I will never forget it.]
H :: If only I could hear the heavens rejoice
R :: When one precious soul kneels in repentence.
I :: It is his love--everlasting, hopeful, comforting--
S :: Which searches for us, seeks for us, night and day,
T :: Throughout all the earth...
I :: And in that one moment, when man and Creator connect,
N :: No utterance can explain how "all is well"
A :: But it is...well...and that is the miracle of it all.
[This poem is a reminder of what happened on Wednesday, July 14, 2010. On this night, I led a precious young lady to the Lord. Her name is Christina. I will never forget it.]
Friday, June 25, 2010
"Going Home"
Driving fifty-five or six
down a two-lane highway,
I'm counting the minutes until
I can walk in the front door,
extend and wrap my arms around
my exuberant two-year-old
and ready myself for a night
at home with my family.
I'm going home.
It's been an afternoon on my own,
just me and the car stereo,
and I find myself lost in thought
and completely unaware of my surroundings...
I'm humming a tune and keeping beat on the wheel,
and I'm not even sure how or why I look up,
but when I do...something within me
stirs and leaps for great joy.
I could be going home.
"This is it. This could be it. Is this it?"
I think to myself quickly, wide-eyed
and barely able to drive a straight line.
I find my voice and call out,
"Is it You? Have you come to get us?"
And my heart starts racing and I keep my eye
on the shining light atop the cloud--
I might just see Him...
I could be going home today.
Today. A day just like any other day.
That's how it's going to happen.
I stare at the wheel, and then up--
"Is it today? Are we leaving today?"
I'm ready for this. I can feel it.
I smile, looking at the brilliant clouds,
and attempt to capture what I see
with the camera on my phone.
When I am going home, it will be brilliant. Like this.
Friday, June 11, 2010
why these waters
here I am again, on the edge of the sea,
feet burrowing downward
in dusty white particles of sand.
my shoes are yards behind me,
kicked off without a thought
when my eyes set on the prize.
I have somehow been fortunate enough
to revisit these shores
that bring me great peace.
I close my eyes and listen to the sound
no cd or therapy can replicate…
its music soothes my soul.
from deep within me,
I can almost hear my spirit communicating
unburdening, confessing, repairing…
and I marvel at this mysterious medicine—
these crashing waves, some age-old prescription
for the weary and wary world traveler, like myself.
why these waters have such an effect
upon me, I may never know,
but I have my own idea about this thing . . .
He moved here first.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
“In the beginning God created the sky and the earth./ The earth was empty and had no form. Darkness covered the ocean, and God's Spirit was moving over the water.”
--Genesis 1:1-2 (NCV)
feet burrowing downward
in dusty white particles of sand.
my shoes are yards behind me,
kicked off without a thought
when my eyes set on the prize.
I have somehow been fortunate enough
to revisit these shores
that bring me great peace.
I close my eyes and listen to the sound
no cd or therapy can replicate…
its music soothes my soul.
from deep within me,
I can almost hear my spirit communicating
unburdening, confessing, repairing…
and I marvel at this mysterious medicine—
these crashing waves, some age-old prescription
for the weary and wary world traveler, like myself.
why these waters have such an effect
upon me, I may never know,
but I have my own idea about this thing . . .
He moved here first.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
“In the beginning God created the sky and the earth./ The earth was empty and had no form. Darkness covered the ocean, and God's Spirit was moving over the water.”
--Genesis 1:1-2 (NCV)
Friday, May 28, 2010
she with sword
she with sword
rides boldly
through rigid lines
staffed with brazen men
housing withered hearts
some whisper hoarsely
how ungodly, how unseemly,
her short, wild locks
and "willful rebellion"
must appear before their God
yet she with sword
rides bravely, recklessly,
unmoved by human opinion,
toward the Lord's enemy--
with pupose, with destiny
she with sword
writes the Lord's name
on her waving flag
and provokes the enemy's spawn
to engage in a war already won.
those who mock her
are silenced then . . .
though no one speaks
when she with sword
finally meets the flaming stake
and they watch as she,
stripped of sword and flag and mount,
is finally humbled,
and they breathe their heresies
into the cold night air.
rides boldly
through rigid lines
staffed with brazen men
housing withered hearts
some whisper hoarsely
how ungodly, how unseemly,
her short, wild locks
and "willful rebellion"
must appear before their God
yet she with sword
rides bravely, recklessly,
unmoved by human opinion,
toward the Lord's enemy--
with pupose, with destiny
she with sword
writes the Lord's name
on her waving flag
and provokes the enemy's spawn
to engage in a war already won.
those who mock her
are silenced then . . .
though no one speaks
when she with sword
finally meets the flaming stake
and they watch as she,
stripped of sword and flag and mount,
is finally humbled,
and they breathe their heresies
into the cold night air.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The Average of These
"You become the average of the six or seven people you surround yourself with daily."
I don't know how many times I've read or heard this quotation, and I don't even know who originally said it, and it probably doesn't even matter...but I remember where I was when I "heard it for the first time," really heard it, heard it and it meant something...
I was at CASC, listening to the guest speaker during a conference honoring African Awareness month. And when this doctor uttered these words, something awoke within me.
This statement isn't one endorsing elitism. It's something that makes you ponder your DESTINY.
It's so easy to be ordinary--some people desire it! They don't want to be different; they want to fit in. They will do anything to feel accepted, "normal"...and, it shouldn't be a surprise to any of them when, at the end of their lives, they look back and recognize "a life of mediocrity."
We all struggle against it. We all get stuck in the mire of the daily grind, the busy schedule, the demands of what it takes "just to get by." It's just so refreshing when we are reminded that THAT IS NOT THE PLAN WE HAVE TO ACCEPT FOR OUR LIVES.
Spiritually, too, it's easy to get in that survival mode. Where you're just hoping you make it through another day...instead of pursuing God and a life of VICTORY.
Today, I have been reminded of this quote...of how important it is to surround myself with people who BELIEVE that "with God, all things are possible." Because it's true. It's absolutely true. It's just up to me to CHOOSE to live that way. To pursue it.
I don't know how many times I've read or heard this quotation, and I don't even know who originally said it, and it probably doesn't even matter...but I remember where I was when I "heard it for the first time," really heard it, heard it and it meant something...
I was at CASC, listening to the guest speaker during a conference honoring African Awareness month. And when this doctor uttered these words, something awoke within me.
This statement isn't one endorsing elitism. It's something that makes you ponder your DESTINY.
It's so easy to be ordinary--some people desire it! They don't want to be different; they want to fit in. They will do anything to feel accepted, "normal"...and, it shouldn't be a surprise to any of them when, at the end of their lives, they look back and recognize "a life of mediocrity."
We all struggle against it. We all get stuck in the mire of the daily grind, the busy schedule, the demands of what it takes "just to get by." It's just so refreshing when we are reminded that THAT IS NOT THE PLAN WE HAVE TO ACCEPT FOR OUR LIVES.
Spiritually, too, it's easy to get in that survival mode. Where you're just hoping you make it through another day...instead of pursuing God and a life of VICTORY.
Today, I have been reminded of this quote...of how important it is to surround myself with people who BELIEVE that "with God, all things are possible." Because it's true. It's absolutely true. It's just up to me to CHOOSE to live that way. To pursue it.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Brook Walking
What I love most, I think, about the Book of Psalms, is that the lyrics found there aren't all happy. And they aren't all sad. They're so "real life."
One day, things are great--couldn't be better--the sun is shining, the smile on your face is blazing and infectious, there's a spring in your step, and everyone notices the sheer intensity of the JOY you radiate! And then, there are days when the shoulders sag a bit, the pace is slower, the energy is "mustered" instead of "free-flowing," and on some of those days, every step is a sacrifice. (And some steps even make you bleed.)
Yesterday, I was thinking of a brook. And I was thinking about how walking in a brook is a lot like our lives. When we choose to get involved in this life, we step in, and let the life flow around us. There is nothing quite as thrilling as when you put your foot down into the chilling water, and then feel the current hit right at the ankles. Something is jarred inside. It's almost an instant reminder that "YOU ARE ALIVE!" And, with every step, there's something "unexpected," especially when we step into an area where we can't quite see to the bottom...There's always that mystery--is there a fish near my foot? Is there some hidden treasure that has been dropped and gone unfound? Is there gold under my feet?
While these thoughts can be essential in propelling us forward, it is also true that something unseemly might be there lurking, unseen. Trash? A piece of glass? A rusty metal lid? A nail? I remember vividly one lake experience where I stepped on a piece of glass and slit my foot open and had to be rushed to the emergency room for stitches. It didn't make me avoid the lake forever...but ever since then, I have worn shoes.
Certainly, there are people who have a bad experience, a REALLY bad experience, and are reluctant to take another step at risk of personal injury or pain. But, in good time, in a reasonable amount of time, that person must be encouraged, pushed even, to step out and try again. Because every step is not the same. Every step is guaranteed to be different.
If we could see everything, it wouldn't be nearly as thrilling. If we chose to just stand there, and let life go by, never taking a step, it would get old (and we might just as well be standing on the bank, as much good as it's doing us). No, the thrill of it all is the movement of it all. Even the risk of it all. Every single day of it all.
No matter the type of day, the psalm that best suits us, we must never forget that the thrill of life, the nature of it, is never knowing what the next day will hold...and letting the mystery unfold is part of what is most alluring about our life experience.
One day, things are great--couldn't be better--the sun is shining, the smile on your face is blazing and infectious, there's a spring in your step, and everyone notices the sheer intensity of the JOY you radiate! And then, there are days when the shoulders sag a bit, the pace is slower, the energy is "mustered" instead of "free-flowing," and on some of those days, every step is a sacrifice. (And some steps even make you bleed.)
Yesterday, I was thinking of a brook. And I was thinking about how walking in a brook is a lot like our lives. When we choose to get involved in this life, we step in, and let the life flow around us. There is nothing quite as thrilling as when you put your foot down into the chilling water, and then feel the current hit right at the ankles. Something is jarred inside. It's almost an instant reminder that "YOU ARE ALIVE!" And, with every step, there's something "unexpected," especially when we step into an area where we can't quite see to the bottom...There's always that mystery--is there a fish near my foot? Is there some hidden treasure that has been dropped and gone unfound? Is there gold under my feet?
While these thoughts can be essential in propelling us forward, it is also true that something unseemly might be there lurking, unseen. Trash? A piece of glass? A rusty metal lid? A nail? I remember vividly one lake experience where I stepped on a piece of glass and slit my foot open and had to be rushed to the emergency room for stitches. It didn't make me avoid the lake forever...but ever since then, I have worn shoes.
Certainly, there are people who have a bad experience, a REALLY bad experience, and are reluctant to take another step at risk of personal injury or pain. But, in good time, in a reasonable amount of time, that person must be encouraged, pushed even, to step out and try again. Because every step is not the same. Every step is guaranteed to be different.
If we could see everything, it wouldn't be nearly as thrilling. If we chose to just stand there, and let life go by, never taking a step, it would get old (and we might just as well be standing on the bank, as much good as it's doing us). No, the thrill of it all is the movement of it all. Even the risk of it all. Every single day of it all.
No matter the type of day, the psalm that best suits us, we must never forget that the thrill of life, the nature of it, is never knowing what the next day will hold...and letting the mystery unfold is part of what is most alluring about our life experience.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Tunnel Lights
Not sure how I got here.
I awoke, if I remember correctly, in this place
with dark, rounded walls, slippery to touch
where the water has drained from above.
Narrow path, and I can't turn around,
Though I can hear distant sounds
from far behind me . . . dull echoes.
There is no one behind me, I am sure.
I am going somewhere. I choose to.
There is darkness, and I am afraid,
but I gather resolve and place one foot in front
and will myself to move.
Up ahead, I see the darkness for an eternal expanse;
Yet, every now and again, I think I see a glimmer of light--
or is it a trick my mind has constructed?--and I smile
with faultering hope or unnerving anxiety . . .
There is something up there, isn't there?
Time passes. I have gone a mile. Or a meter.
It's hard to tell in this tunnel time warp.
It's hard to breathe, the air is heavy.
I am wheezing with the burden of movement.
I know it would be simpler to lie down
and close my eyes until the darkness
claims my life at last . . . but I cannot.
My resolve is stronger than the un-light.
Step. Feel the walls. There is water here.
Above, somewhere, there is life and light.
If only I could climb and claw my way up.
Up . . . There IS light and life and love there.
And . . . there it is! . . . another flicker
of something I can't identify--but light it is!
That makes two. Today there have been two sightings!
Or, wait . . . was that today and yesterday?
No matter. I see them, the tunnel lights.
And I can remember them in my mind, just long enough
to hold on desperately to their memory.
They, the promise of what lies ahead.
I awoke, if I remember correctly, in this place
with dark, rounded walls, slippery to touch
where the water has drained from above.
Narrow path, and I can't turn around,
Though I can hear distant sounds
from far behind me . . . dull echoes.
There is no one behind me, I am sure.
I am going somewhere. I choose to.
There is darkness, and I am afraid,
but I gather resolve and place one foot in front
and will myself to move.
Up ahead, I see the darkness for an eternal expanse;
Yet, every now and again, I think I see a glimmer of light--
or is it a trick my mind has constructed?--and I smile
with faultering hope or unnerving anxiety . . .
There is something up there, isn't there?
Time passes. I have gone a mile. Or a meter.
It's hard to tell in this tunnel time warp.
It's hard to breathe, the air is heavy.
I am wheezing with the burden of movement.
I know it would be simpler to lie down
and close my eyes until the darkness
claims my life at last . . . but I cannot.
My resolve is stronger than the un-light.
Step. Feel the walls. There is water here.
Above, somewhere, there is life and light.
If only I could climb and claw my way up.
Up . . . There IS light and life and love there.
And . . . there it is! . . . another flicker
of something I can't identify--but light it is!
That makes two. Today there have been two sightings!
Or, wait . . . was that today and yesterday?
No matter. I see them, the tunnel lights.
And I can remember them in my mind, just long enough
to hold on desperately to their memory.
They, the promise of what lies ahead.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
A Tale of Two Reoccurring Dreams
When I am overwhelmed, when I feel like the daily grind is zapping my energy and spirit, when my brain is on overload, I often have one of two reoccurring dreams.
One dream I was reminded of just a couple of days ago, when a series of tornadoes ripped through mid-western Oklahoma again. In one of the live pictures they showed, you could see three snake-like tornadoes descending from the sky in one place, reminiscent of the movie Twister.
In my dream, I am always at my mom and dad's house in Liberty, OK. And we are always hiding in the hallway, or desperately seeking the safest place in the house (knowing there is not a "safest place"). And when I look out the windows, I realize that I am surrounded by those reptilian-looking tornadoes, but there are more than three--it's more like a dozen or two dozen. Some are on the horizon, headed my way, and some are close, surrounding the house. I usually wake up when the tornadoes are on every side of the house, and we are all hunched down in bleak anticipation of what is to come.
At this point, I don't want to spend time analyzing this dream. I want to talk about the OTHER dream I have.
There's another dream I have when I'm stressed out, overwhelmed. And in this dream, I go to my own personal Paradise. I've seen it time and time again, and every time I realize I'm there, I can inhale with gratitude. I know the room. It's a white sunroom, with big windows and white wicker furniture. The windows are covered with white see-through curtains, and there is a breeze blowing in from the outside. The temperature and the breeze are cool, soft, totally relaxing. And every time I go to this room, I am overwhelmed by the white-ness, the breeze, and how calmed I get there (in the space of a mere moment), and I close my eyes, so thankful, so very thankful, for the return visit.
This place is the place I wish for right now. I hope that I get to visit it again soon. I need it. I need to go there again, close my eyes and inhale deeply, relaxing at my core. This place I love.
I'm sure there is a house somewhere with a room in it like this one. I hope that someday I am able to afford a house with a room like this one. A place of calm and quiet.
One dream I was reminded of just a couple of days ago, when a series of tornadoes ripped through mid-western Oklahoma again. In one of the live pictures they showed, you could see three snake-like tornadoes descending from the sky in one place, reminiscent of the movie Twister.
In my dream, I am always at my mom and dad's house in Liberty, OK. And we are always hiding in the hallway, or desperately seeking the safest place in the house (knowing there is not a "safest place"). And when I look out the windows, I realize that I am surrounded by those reptilian-looking tornadoes, but there are more than three--it's more like a dozen or two dozen. Some are on the horizon, headed my way, and some are close, surrounding the house. I usually wake up when the tornadoes are on every side of the house, and we are all hunched down in bleak anticipation of what is to come.
At this point, I don't want to spend time analyzing this dream. I want to talk about the OTHER dream I have.
There's another dream I have when I'm stressed out, overwhelmed. And in this dream, I go to my own personal Paradise. I've seen it time and time again, and every time I realize I'm there, I can inhale with gratitude. I know the room. It's a white sunroom, with big windows and white wicker furniture. The windows are covered with white see-through curtains, and there is a breeze blowing in from the outside. The temperature and the breeze are cool, soft, totally relaxing. And every time I go to this room, I am overwhelmed by the white-ness, the breeze, and how calmed I get there (in the space of a mere moment), and I close my eyes, so thankful, so very thankful, for the return visit.
This place is the place I wish for right now. I hope that I get to visit it again soon. I need it. I need to go there again, close my eyes and inhale deeply, relaxing at my core. This place I love.
I'm sure there is a house somewhere with a room in it like this one. I hope that someday I am able to afford a house with a room like this one. A place of calm and quiet.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
My First Blog
So here it is. The first blog.
Um...
I never thought I'd start blogging, I never thought that I needed to. But when I get stressed out or overwhelmed, I know I need to write, to get thoughts, phrases "down" out of me and onto the page. Used to, I did this with pen and ink, but these days, by the time I grab my trusty notebook and pen, I've already lost the energy, or something else has distracted me, or there's someone or something that has caught and exacted my immediate attention.
I don't plan on tediously editing here. I don't plan on over-thinking it at all. This is a place for me to do the James Joyce thing and embrace "stream of consciousness," as much as I am able.
So here it is.
For me. For my daughter. For my husband and family. For those who may like to know or be curious enough to read...A Happy Psalm or Two.
Um...
I never thought I'd start blogging, I never thought that I needed to. But when I get stressed out or overwhelmed, I know I need to write, to get thoughts, phrases "down" out of me and onto the page. Used to, I did this with pen and ink, but these days, by the time I grab my trusty notebook and pen, I've already lost the energy, or something else has distracted me, or there's someone or something that has caught and exacted my immediate attention.
I don't plan on tediously editing here. I don't plan on over-thinking it at all. This is a place for me to do the James Joyce thing and embrace "stream of consciousness," as much as I am able.
So here it is.
For me. For my daughter. For my husband and family. For those who may like to know or be curious enough to read...A Happy Psalm or Two.
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