The way some things change. :)
I stopped to leave space for a driver in the center lane who wanted to turn left through a long line of cars.
A dog floated by, ears flapping out the window. For a few seconds it didn't register, then I saw it like a replay.
Lois smiling and waving before plunging into the turn.
I laughed so hard that I felt like I would break in half.
We feast on our atrocities
And even silence is a thief
We vandalize our dignity
And speak in knives like enemies
I felled you like a giving tree
Don't read it like a tragedy
Don't be surprised at suffering
And please don't turn those eyes on me
Please
Proverbs 12:18 Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.
You nurse as many grudges as your
chances to obtain them.
Your heart still bleeds from carving up
the holes where you contain them.
You bandage till you're paralyzed
with blacklists that you keep.
Your anger blocks the airways
till you're fighting just to breathe.
I can't live in your paralife.
I'm dying to get out.
I'm sickened by your chronic
diarrhea of the mouth.
You'd grieve the casualties if you
could use your calloused eyes.
But all your tears are for yourself,
and so, for now, goodbye.
Proverbs 27:3 Stone is heavy and sand a burden, but provocation by a fool is heavier than both.
You've thrown out your metrics
and all expectations you had.
The world is too big
and the sane are the same as the mad.
The wind in your curtains
is singing you nothing but jazz.
A sucker for chocolate
but never know what you might get.
You'll stand up and take it,
and nothing's too much for you yet,
'Cause God is the one thing
you know you can always expect.
You've torn out the pages
that hold all your fears about fate.
The unconcerned current
will carry them far from the lake.
Or they might
just get lodged
in a dam and dis
int
e
grate.
Romans 5:4-5 Character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.
You said a promise is a promise is a promise
I broke it apart and the inside came out
I said that some of them
Just aren't worth keeping
I know that you heard
Do you see what I'm seeing
A thousand little lies have spilled on the ground
Reminds me we're both scared that everything's like this
The sound of the seams giving way underneath
Or is that the ocean
Eroding my eardrums
The waves have no rhythm
At least I can't hear one
I hope that our God can still speak them to peace
The crickets all hush for a waterfront conflict
A stranger dismissed from the gate at the shore
A shadow slumps down
And descends with the water
When the sunrise walks into
The dark of the garden
And darkness can swallow the living no more
Genesis 8:1 God made a wind blow over the earth, and the waters subsided.
God,
For my birthday, please send me some winged shoes.
If you won't do that, I would like some assistance getting over it.
Thanks.
Sit with me
Lean on the wall
We're tired of talking
Tired of talk
Look at me
Don't say a word
We can speak colors
Colorful verse
Talk about God
Don't say a word
Smile with me
So good to be here
Don't fight the weeping
Pray with your tears
Talk about God
Talk about God
And don't you say a word
Jesus the one
Jesus the only
Here in our silence
Making it holy
Don't say a word
This is a draft!! And I may never finish it. Mom: Do you think this could be the start of a good short story? And yes, it is highly metaphorical.
Any sane person startles to the realization he has woken up here. It is the insane who sit back and call for applesauce. But after I push myself off the bed, dropping the mouthpiece to let it dangle, I am not sure where to go. I have no idea what to expect. My trachea could collapse, for all I know. I might die now.
"I might die now," I say out loud to myself. Something inside replies, Respirators are a promise not worth keeping. I agree. I choked on the tube when I woke up. Stupid respirators.
I seem to be alone. All I can see are the digital numbers and glowing red dots that surround my bed. All I can hear is the whirring and quiet beeping of machines. There has got to be a window in this place.
I hiss through my teeth as I remove the last tube from my left arm. Not really fond of opiates either, or anesthetics, or whatever it is. Stupid drugs.
Where is my night vision? I take a few steps forward. On the third one I meet with the edge of a table. My brief tactual exploration reveals nothing but a short plastic cup full of liquid, doubtless some kind of juice. I pick it up, sniff it. It actually smells like alcohol. I consider for a moment.
My throat is quite dry...
But not that dry.
After more shuffling around, I discover a door. It is smooth and cold with a bit of peeling paint here and there. I clutch the handle and lean against the wall, because I am beginning to realize that I have been dizzy since I woke up. Then I open the door slowly.
I am overwhelmed by more darkness, as well as a caustic, vaguely floral smell and the memory that accompanies it.———————
“Yes, what do you need?”
That was an unusual greeting from a receptionist.
“I was wondering whether I could... well, I need a place to stay. Just tonight.”
“And what can I do for you, sweetie?”
I wasn't sure how to answer her. I'd just told her what she could do. Was this a trick question?
“Uhh... well. Could I stay here for the night? I realize you guys have, like, your rules and... everything, but it's a hospital and I thought maybe if I stay here in the lobby it won't be much of a problem.”
I was flustered by how eloquent I wasn't. I had thought hard about what I would say just before walking into that foul-smelling building, but all my thoughts seemed to have melted together into a lump. I had to wrest every word from that lump.
“You're from this area,” she stated.
She had caught me off guard. “Uh, no... I'm not, I live—”
“All right. Then we'll have your signature right here, it'll give us permission to take emergency measures should anything happen to you.”
I took it from her hand and had barely begun to read when she said, “Don't worry, sweetie. It's for your protection.”
Ashamed at my rudeness, I laid the paper on the counter and signed my name.
I have a history of second-guessing almost everything I feel and think.
Guess what? Life sucks when I am like that.
So now think about the old shirt that you won't throw out because it has become so comfortable. Or the black silhouettes of trees outside my window, the latest great food you discovered, the sound of piano music, the damp smell of dirt and new leaves in early spring. I mean my nephew's tiny feet running across the carpet. My nose frozen from walking out in the cold, my fingers thawing when I return, the neon green numbers on the microwave, and the shadows cast by a series of lampposts outside in the park.
Remember the handwriting of the people you love, their voices, their faces, the ways they move, their unique ways of being in the world. Think of the exhilaration of being chased in a game of tag, the relief and mad joy of being fully forgiven for hurting one of the people who mean the most to you.
I mean how it feels to be in my grandparents' basement with my little brother. I mean my older siblings joking cryptically with each other. I mean the act of breathing, late afternoon walks, the heat of the sun on your face, the pleasure of a gardener as he works, the woman who greets you when you walk into Wal-mart, the arms of a father rocking his baby, and that person in your life who somehow makes everybody feel welcomed and important.
I mean deep shades of blue-violet and pastel pinks and startling reds, the bright expressive patterns on an African tunic, stars in a clear black sky. I mean the reassurance, as I fall asleep at night, that God is with me, deeply in love with me, and listening hard as I pray for a fresher heart.
Lately, stuff has been getting under my skin and I am not doubting it. I will not suspect that the feeling is only the temporary emotional side effect of my perception-- not when something so huge is going on. I will not shrug off the fantastic presence of beauty when I meet it (that is to say, when I meet Him).
It seems cruel to load a couple of theoreticals onto someone with no effort to give them substance. So I wrote down some examples of beauty I have known. I hope you can relate to them. But I realize that no one sees exactly the same things as anyone else. If you have anything you want to add, I would be more than happy to see it in the comments.
Like petulant frost in the passion of June
If I were a bird I'd sing slightly off-tune
I can't be a bottle of watered-down wine
A half-open door till I make up my mind
A firefly dim and contained in a jar
Don't let me be someone with half of a heart
I know you'll arrive by some time yesterday
That's just a bit longer than I want to wait
Matthew 5:8 God blesses those whose hearts are pure, for they will see God.
We woke to a nightmare of dangling limbs
In a colorless glow of perpetual dusk
Some of the time we were dancing for them
The rest of the time we were gathering dust
Blindsided when I first noticed your strings
I shouted at your wooden ears, "It's not true!"
But I had to fall to the stage to believe
My hands and my knees were as wooden as you
Slumped on the shelf like a pile of rocks
All of my joints and my hinges revealed
I called for the one who first taught me to walk
And asked nothing less than at last to be real
1 Thessalonians 2:4 Our purpose is to please God, not people. He alone examines the motives of our hearts.
152. Sarah Ageno reminds me of my mother.
153. Stephanie Maurice reminds me of Jenny.
154. Juna makes everybody feel important.
155. Piano is great.
156. Especially the minor keys.
157. A minimum of five different girls have/had crushes on Josh Williams.
158. Verdine gets this great expression on her face when amused.
159. Nikki is just fun. On a regular basis.
160. Clean drinking water never gets boring.
161. The music at Rochester First Assembly... yeah.
162. Mrs Reddick actually thanked me for being honest with her.
163. I still can't get over soybeans.
164. This school is fortunate to have Curtis Nguyen.
165. If conditions are right and I squint, I look a little like Mom.
166. I enjoy Laura banter.
167. I like my ceiling decorations.
168. Tiffany initiates conversations with me now.
169. Jessica is a great suitemate with her leisurely, coconut-scented, Jack Johnson ways.
170. I rediscovered Rebecca St James.
171. God is wonderful in so many ways that I can't even put into words.
172. We made rock candy with ROOT BEER FLAVORING.
173. Nick Timmer = breeder.
174. Justin's new song is fantastic. I was so excited to see a new one!
"I really love your glasses."
A week before tonight.
You gave me back my smile, and
I thought you'd be all right.
What I saw behind the lenses
Might have clued me in
With time. But no one's ever told
What could have, would have been.
OMIGOSH I KILLED TIFFANY'S FISH
I left the window open while I was at the First Assembly church service. It started at 10:00. I thought I'd only be gone for an hour or two, but then Juna and I ate lunch at Michelle's and Jen's with Sheli. When I got back at 5:30 the room had acquired an icy sheen. I closed the window.
However, Tiffany and I could not get the room to warm up. It was still freezing at midnight, which is approximately when Fish (being a Betta and preferring tropical weather) sank to the bottom of his tank.
Though Tiffany laughs at me, I am planning for his burial ceremony.
And a clandestine visit to PetSmart.
Dear room heater,
That was an inappropriate time to stop working.
Sincerely,
Amanda
Once, when I was about four years old and travelling with Dad, we had to stop to find a restroom for me. It was probably late enough that most of the gas stations were closed. Dad found one, but the door to the bathroom was on the outside of the building. He had to ask for a key to open it.
Jenny and Justin waited in the car, I think. Dad and I walked in to find a singularly crummy-looking little bathroom. He looked frantic and told me I couldn't pee yet. I was embarrassed at the thought of using the toilet in front of my dad, but I was so desperate that I didn't really care, and I was displeased that he wanted me to wait. I begged him to just leave, or at least let me pee.
"You can't sit on that, it's filthy," he said, and began ripping toilet paper off and trying to lay it on the toilet seat. He couldn't cover the surface because the paper kept falling off into the water or onto the messy floor. He tried covering it in several different ways. I could see his frustration, but I didn't understand why the toilet offended him so badly, and I continued to plead. After a minute or two, he finally gave up and lifted me onto a seat strewn with segments of toilet paper like sparse paper maché. He looked truly defeated.
I thought he was being pretty silly at the time. Now I think it's one of the sweetest things I remember him doing.
In a girls' meeting tonight Najeema talked about roses-- how we are like roses made of glass, not the kind that are made of fabric and wire. You can drop a cheap fake rose and bend it all over the place and it'll be fine; you would let a stranger handle it and not really worry about what might happen. But a glass rose is valuable, fragile. It matters what you do with it. Too bad not many of us realize what we are.
Change of gears... The image of the rose reminded me of the Beauty and the Beast story and how I have been fascinated with it since Christmas. I have realized that
I heard a voice through the discord
Of a deluge of passers-by
I saw one gaze frozen in time
Watching me passing by
And I swear I'll know your face in the crowd
And I'll hear your voice so loud
When you're whispering
"Hey, Unfaithful, I will teach you
To be stronger (to be stronger)
Hey, Ungraceful, I will teach you
To forgive one another"
Here's my kiss to betray
Desperate to brush the lips of grace
Do you feel hollow when you think of how I've lied?
Oh, sweet angel of mercy, with your grace like the morning
Wrap your loving arms around me
Oh, sweet angel of mercy, with your grace like the morning
Wrap your loving arms around me
"Hey, Unfaithful, I will teach you
To be stronger (to be stronger)
Hey, Ungraceful, I will teach you
To forgive one another
Hey, Unfaithful, I will teach you
To be stronger (to be stronger)
Hey, Unloving
I will love you
I will love you
I will love you"
And Jesus I'm ready to come (home!)
(Jesus, I'm ready)
I'm ready to come home, home, home, home
I'm ready to come
"Hey, Unfaithful
Hey, Ungraceful
Hey, Unloving
I will love you
Hey, Unloving (hey, Unloving)
I will love you"
Sick of the mud that was under my nails
Of choking and crawling and getting more scared
Couldn't recall how I'd tunneled to there
Or how it had felt when I'd had enough air
You found me stifled by thinking and wondering
With blood on my hands and dirt in my mouth
Could I ever deserve to live above ground?
But deeper than questions you just called me out
I laid down my head on top of your heart
Your life became mine and the tears began
Breathing and being came easy again
And I saw my wounds in the scars on your hands
You named the stars and you gave me a name
You hold me up now like the lights in the sky
Your goodness is raging like fire in my mind
Your love songs have taught me to rest in the night
My love for you, Love, is an expression of yours
The echo of words that you spoke in my soul
The beauty I have is the mark of your own
These beautiful places are now what I know
My teachers feel SO BAD for me.
If any doubt remained, it dissipated when I checked my grades, prayers having wound down to a request that God give me only the courage to carry on. In addition to my now mended Shelly grade (B), I saw two As and an A-.
Yeah.
I know better than to think that I somehow earned those, because I can remember each professor's grading system as set forth in their respective syllabi. Different percentages for each area of performance. "Effort" was not a category.
Whatever. Underneath all of the shock I am elated. Gordon MacKinnon's input has yet to appear (I'd be in no hurry to post a D, either), but the death cloud has been lifted. Who foresaw an A in Statistics? With my grades I could almost convince someone that I'm capable of understanding math!
Nothing like getting something good that you don't deserve. I guess I'm certainly one who knows by now.
The best I could hope
Feels like a prayer
That suddenly woke
And scared me to bits
Wonderful broke
Over the skyline
Smashed me to dust
That swells on the wind
I have to be crushed
To be given a form
I want to be judged
And found needing
That your terrible presence
Obscures me some more
Is the one hope I have
To start being