God shows a face

"Good night," she says quietly, "I love you," and then she leaves. An expanse of yellow light becomes a beam-- a slice-- a sliver-- a hair stroke-- and is finally soaked back into the hallway.

Between the sliver and the hair stroke, I lose confidence. I bury myself in the sheets and breathe carbon dioxide.

Silence.

When she tucked me in (twice) and sat down next to my knees, when she told me a silly story and bent down to kiss my forehead, when the base notes of her perfume filled the room--back then, the world was full of softness and beauty and grape jelly, and every curtain opened to a bright new adventure and a slow comforting rainfall at once--

Good night, good night...

I am alone, quite possibly forever. Maybe the nights wouldn't always be so bad if they didn't always start so well. I should go to bed all by myself.

I am suddenly aware of the sound of my own pulse in my ears. I strain to hear something from outside, something indicating my mom is awake and moving around. That she hasn't left, that she's talking to my sister or rearranging my brother's shoes by the door. Packing my lunch for school tomorrow. Switching on a lamp to sit down with a book. Keeping a watchful eye on wild boars and bad fairies that would break down my door and tear me to shreds.

Far flies the light...

After a while the upper half of my face emerges from the covers and, despite a growing sense of panic in my stomach, I attempt to use my night vision. I forced down seven and a half carrots at lunch.

Somehow, though, apart from the faint dusky glow on the window blinds, every single thing in my room is the same color. The one called "total absence of color". Which I hate. I really hate that.

But still God's love shall flame above, making all bright.

I'm not even tired, Mom. I can construct a flawless argument for springing up from the bed and locking the door behind me. I could just kind of chill with the grown-ups until morning.

I really could.

I...

Fall asleep.

Maybe my vision is distorted, but God, it seems your moments of reassurance are sporadic compared with the hours and hours when I don't know what you're doing. But you keep coming back, leading me to believe that you never actually left.

Something I keep forgetting

(lol)
(don't turn your sound up too high)

Some of the things I wish I had known yesterday and tomorrow:

Ice cream is not fun after more than one serving.

I can do a lot of things well.

Other people do not get to choose how I feel and think.

If I spend no time investing in what I actually care about, of course I am miserable.

While it is sometimes necessary to identify that someone else is "wrong", I am in danger of awakening a horrible arrogance every time I do so.

I get approximately one moment of how things are just now, and then it is gone.

I hate everything when I start comparing myself with other people.

Nothing my internal stubborn, hedonistic, terrified, crusted cynic demands will introduce a scrap of lasting enjoyment or peace.

Being alive as the person I am in the world I'm in with the God who got me... is awesome.

Aquarium

I sink down to the suburb
A dead weight in my chest
Approach the house behind the curve
Where I was dispossessed
Into a new reality
I came up from the depths
But it would be the end of me
To let myself forget

The sun could not get past the ice
I'd never seen a world so dark
The water froze across my eyes
But it could only reach so far
The basement would have taken me
The winterkill would be my death
Had you not plunged into the sea
So Jesus, let me not forget

Romans 8:2   Because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death.

Whatever you did not do

The operator on the line informed me darkly
"I believe an elephant is living in your home"
Wanted to believe that she was only joking
Wisely laughed and said to her that I was very much alone

I put down the phone and I picked up my book
A tail brushed my browbone but I didn't look

Oh my goodness, this is rich
My brain must be a giant itch
'Cause all I do is scratch my head
Is it my fault that hope is dead?
Excuse me as I utilize
My hands to cover up my eyes
I killed the moment, dunno why
I hope I get a second try

You were sitting lonely in the back of the room
I was just too cool for that and mostly insecure
You sat right across from me but I stared through you
Squeezing past the elephant, I made it to the nearest door

Oh my goodness, this is wild
I am like a feral child
Just lead me to a clearing where
Your presence doesn't make me scared
I'll get the phone, I'll call my house
I'll pick it up and call me out
Inform me of my elephant
And I will learn to deal with it

Yes, we could talk and enjoy the buffet
But I feel a little too ugly today

Oh my goodness, this is rich
Watch how fast I hit the bricks
Is there a place where I can go
To flee a giant animal?
Excuse me as I utilize
My hands to cover up my eyes
I killed the moment, dunno why
I hope I get a second try

Matthew 25:45   'When you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.'

Invisible roads

Dear whoever fails to post signs with street names on them:

I do not like you. Not even a little.

In other news, I have been working on my story again and I decided that it would be good to add music. To enhance the experience, you know. So with each chapter I plan to include a song that either 1) captures the emotion of that part of the story or 2) embodies the idea behind it. One or the other.

Tiiiime is on my side

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.

Daniel

He was on the sidewalk behind the dorm today, using a wooden stick to shoot nuthins.

Kids make me stoked about life.

Yes, We Have Communication Problems But in This Case You Would Be Justified in Calling Me Cruel

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.

Cataracts

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.

Expectations

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.

Seams

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.

Gift request

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.

Holiness has one name only

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

Ch 1: Sane

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.

Under my skin

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.

Janus

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.

Strings

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.

100,000 words could not quite explain

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!

De'Angelo

"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.

Murder

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