Afflicted with sadness
a disease I cannot cure
all the while i try to heal
i only feel it more
a disease I cannot cure
all the while i try to heal
i only feel it more
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Devotchka song that really impacted me tonight- How It Ends
This song took my breath away when I heard it tonight.It's as if they knew me and wrote this song for this moment in my life . . . Weird. What an intensly beautiful song!!!
Hold your grandmother's bible to your breast
Gonna put it to the test
You wanted it to be blessed
And in your heart
You know it to be true
You know what you gotta do
They all depend on you
And you already knowYet you already know
How this will end
There is no escapeFrom the slave catcher's songs
For all of the loved ones gone
Forever's not so long
And in your soul
They poked a million holes
But you never let them show
Come on its time to go
And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end
Now you've seen his face
And you know that there's a place in the sun
For all that you've done
For you and your children
No longer shall you need
You always wanted to believe
Just ask and you'll receive
Beyond your wildest dreams
And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end
You already know (You already know)You already know (You already know)You already knowHow this will end[ How It Ends Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]
Hold your grandmother's bible to your breast
Gonna put it to the test
You wanted it to be blessed
And in your heart
You know it to be true
You know what you gotta do
They all depend on you
And you already knowYet you already know
How this will end
There is no escapeFrom the slave catcher's songs
For all of the loved ones gone
Forever's not so long
And in your soul
They poked a million holes
But you never let them show
Come on its time to go
And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end
Now you've seen his face
And you know that there's a place in the sun
For all that you've done
For you and your children
No longer shall you need
You always wanted to believe
Just ask and you'll receive
Beyond your wildest dreams
And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end
You already know (You already know)You already know (You already know)You already knowHow this will end[ How It Ends Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
spring and fall
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89). Poems. 1918.
31. Spring and Fall
to a young child
MÁRGARÉT, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Áh! ás the heart grows older
5
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
10
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
15
31. Spring and Fall
to a young child
MÁRGARÉT, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Áh! ás the heart grows older
5
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
10
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
15
realities rambling
well what was the point really?
entrancing myself in visions and melodies far too grand for reality
and so taunting for my own soul
reality was laughing at me in the corner of my mind
but for those moments i could pretend and easily imagine
that i belonged somewhere inside of you
well I guess I did somehow, because you sang from my insides out
what was i convincing myself of?
my souls own emotional ramblings
yes, sometimes i have to hush all the talk inside
god forbid i recognize what i've been longing for
someone like you
entrancing myself in visions and melodies far too grand for reality
and so taunting for my own soul
reality was laughing at me in the corner of my mind
but for those moments i could pretend and easily imagine
that i belonged somewhere inside of you
well I guess I did somehow, because you sang from my insides out
what was i convincing myself of?
my souls own emotional ramblings
yes, sometimes i have to hush all the talk inside
god forbid i recognize what i've been longing for
someone like you
Monday, December 15, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
The still small voice
There was a time many years ago around Christmas, where I came to the end of myself.
I remember laying on my bed, my sixteen year old self, and thinking I really had no reason to go on. I was so tired of everything, I was sick of the way my life was. I wanted meaning to my existence beyond whatever explanation I was getting from mainstream society.
My life changed after that night, because instead of selling my soul to the devil like Robert Johnson, I sold my soul to Jesus.
It was a pretty serious event to me. I was waking up every day and praying. My life consisted of a lot of prayer, I was very heavenly minded I guess you could say. I was on my knees asking God for help. For the first time I saw the world in an entirely different light. I began to be quite passionate about saving the lost and missions. All I wanted to think about was God. It was a dramatic conversion for me.
Yet I was naive and ignorant of many things. As most sixteen year old are I thought I had it all figured out. Like most, I soon got weary of following Christ and His ways. It's hard to follow a God you cannot see, or audibly hear. I have had a very, very, rough eleven years since then. I could have never fathomed all the pain and difficult times heading my way. I was clueless back then, as to how my future would be. But I had a lot of faith. Faith that God was real and beside me always. I believed he could hear me, see me and that he cared for me. I believed that every day that I awoke was another day that God would speak to me somehow. That he would give me sign or a word from heaven.
But the world is cold isn't it? Full of suffering and death, unimaginable tragedies. Life wears us down and becomes drudgery at times.
Some where along the way my faith has been dieing. I could probably pin point when and how. But over time my faith has eroded.
This past month however I feel that God has actually been trying to reach me in many different ways.
But just in the past couple of days at least two things strike me.
One is that it has been very difficult for me to want to listen to the Bible anymore. Sometimes the Bible can become irrelevant to me when it doesn't jive with how I feel. Because of this the things I used to never consider OK, are now OK. I justify it because I have lost faith that God cares, or sees, or even understands me.
The other night I went to a friends house and she showed me this box she had with "angel cards" in it. Basically its a box of virtues. That particular day I was ready to give up on trying to listen to God, on trying to do it His way. There were many cards in that box and when I closed my eyes and drew one, mostly for amusement, my smile turned sober quickly.
the card I drew was "obedience". I have had certain things going on in my life right now that I am not too happy about. Let's just say its been hard to obey the God that is supposedly my King. When I drew that card I didn't feel it was a coincidence. I felt that God used that situation to tell me something.
The very next day as I was being tempted almost beyond what I could emotionally bear I remembered that card. Obedience.
But now that I was trying to obey I felt sad and hopeless. I was sitting on my couch tonight after putting the kids to bed just thinking how far from God I felt. At that moment my phone rang and it was a friend that I actually haven't talked to on the phone for a very long time.She called to tell me she was at a concert at her church and a former American Idol contestant that I had once rooted for was there. She added that there was another concert coming there and it was Michelle Tumes. I sort of coughed out , What did you say?
She repeated Michelle Tumes is coming here on Sunday.
Wow.
Michelle Tumes is not a well known artist as far as I know. But when I was sixteen and I first gave my life over to God I used to listen to her every single day and her music brought so much comfort to my soul it was unbelievable. I haven't even listened to her since then. So after I hung up the phone I got on myspace and looked her up. As I turned on her once familiar music I just put my head down and cried. It was a good cry and I felt very at peace and I truly felt that God was reminding me of a time long ago when I had true faith in Him and a time where I was peace.
There is a verse in the Bible that talks about God speaking.
I kings 19- Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the LORD.” And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; 1 and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. "
Now back then I think God actually spoke audibly to people. But today I think we can easily apply this to our own lives. God doesn't always have neon signs on the streets of life telling us exactly what we need to hear. But I firmly believe that if we have faith He will answer us. In small ways. Not always. But my experience with God has been that there definitely seems to be seasons where every where we look it seems He is there. I think I am in that season right now. There has been so much happening lately that seems to be God actually intervening in a tangible way in my life. I am very grateful for this, because I need that comfort right now.
I was watching C.S. Lewis's Prince Caspian the other night with my kids. There is a part where only Lucy sees Aslan while the others that are older and supposedly wiser see nothing.
C.S. Lewis wrote those books to be a reflection of our faith in God. Aslan represents Christ.
How many times do I not see God because I simply just expect He will not be there, or is not there? My faith is little and so I am not open to God working because I don't believe He is working period. But when I have faith, when I believe and put my doubts aside and refuse to give in to mere emotions and instead obey, I notice that sometimes God meets me there, not in an earthquake, or in the wind, not with all the answers for my life- but in a still, small voice.
I remember laying on my bed, my sixteen year old self, and thinking I really had no reason to go on. I was so tired of everything, I was sick of the way my life was. I wanted meaning to my existence beyond whatever explanation I was getting from mainstream society.
My life changed after that night, because instead of selling my soul to the devil like Robert Johnson, I sold my soul to Jesus.
It was a pretty serious event to me. I was waking up every day and praying. My life consisted of a lot of prayer, I was very heavenly minded I guess you could say. I was on my knees asking God for help. For the first time I saw the world in an entirely different light. I began to be quite passionate about saving the lost and missions. All I wanted to think about was God. It was a dramatic conversion for me.
Yet I was naive and ignorant of many things. As most sixteen year old are I thought I had it all figured out. Like most, I soon got weary of following Christ and His ways. It's hard to follow a God you cannot see, or audibly hear. I have had a very, very, rough eleven years since then. I could have never fathomed all the pain and difficult times heading my way. I was clueless back then, as to how my future would be. But I had a lot of faith. Faith that God was real and beside me always. I believed he could hear me, see me and that he cared for me. I believed that every day that I awoke was another day that God would speak to me somehow. That he would give me sign or a word from heaven.
But the world is cold isn't it? Full of suffering and death, unimaginable tragedies. Life wears us down and becomes drudgery at times.
Some where along the way my faith has been dieing. I could probably pin point when and how. But over time my faith has eroded.
This past month however I feel that God has actually been trying to reach me in many different ways.
But just in the past couple of days at least two things strike me.
One is that it has been very difficult for me to want to listen to the Bible anymore. Sometimes the Bible can become irrelevant to me when it doesn't jive with how I feel. Because of this the things I used to never consider OK, are now OK. I justify it because I have lost faith that God cares, or sees, or even understands me.
The other night I went to a friends house and she showed me this box she had with "angel cards" in it. Basically its a box of virtues. That particular day I was ready to give up on trying to listen to God, on trying to do it His way. There were many cards in that box and when I closed my eyes and drew one, mostly for amusement, my smile turned sober quickly.
the card I drew was "obedience". I have had certain things going on in my life right now that I am not too happy about. Let's just say its been hard to obey the God that is supposedly my King. When I drew that card I didn't feel it was a coincidence. I felt that God used that situation to tell me something.
The very next day as I was being tempted almost beyond what I could emotionally bear I remembered that card. Obedience.
But now that I was trying to obey I felt sad and hopeless. I was sitting on my couch tonight after putting the kids to bed just thinking how far from God I felt. At that moment my phone rang and it was a friend that I actually haven't talked to on the phone for a very long time.She called to tell me she was at a concert at her church and a former American Idol contestant that I had once rooted for was there. She added that there was another concert coming there and it was Michelle Tumes. I sort of coughed out , What did you say?
She repeated Michelle Tumes is coming here on Sunday.
Wow.
Michelle Tumes is not a well known artist as far as I know. But when I was sixteen and I first gave my life over to God I used to listen to her every single day and her music brought so much comfort to my soul it was unbelievable. I haven't even listened to her since then. So after I hung up the phone I got on myspace and looked her up. As I turned on her once familiar music I just put my head down and cried. It was a good cry and I felt very at peace and I truly felt that God was reminding me of a time long ago when I had true faith in Him and a time where I was peace.
There is a verse in the Bible that talks about God speaking.
I kings 19- Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the LORD.” And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; 1 and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. "
Now back then I think God actually spoke audibly to people. But today I think we can easily apply this to our own lives. God doesn't always have neon signs on the streets of life telling us exactly what we need to hear. But I firmly believe that if we have faith He will answer us. In small ways. Not always. But my experience with God has been that there definitely seems to be seasons where every where we look it seems He is there. I think I am in that season right now. There has been so much happening lately that seems to be God actually intervening in a tangible way in my life. I am very grateful for this, because I need that comfort right now.
I was watching C.S. Lewis's Prince Caspian the other night with my kids. There is a part where only Lucy sees Aslan while the others that are older and supposedly wiser see nothing.
C.S. Lewis wrote those books to be a reflection of our faith in God. Aslan represents Christ.
How many times do I not see God because I simply just expect He will not be there, or is not there? My faith is little and so I am not open to God working because I don't believe He is working period. But when I have faith, when I believe and put my doubts aside and refuse to give in to mere emotions and instead obey, I notice that sometimes God meets me there, not in an earthquake, or in the wind, not with all the answers for my life- but in a still, small voice.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
a tree cut down
“For there is hope for a tree, If it is cut down, that it will sprout again,
And that its tender shoots will not cease.
Though its root may grow old in the earth,
And its stump may die in the ground,
Yet at the scent of water it will bud
And bring forth branches like a plant."
Job 14-7-9
On a day I am feeling so hopeless and displaced this verse really spoke to me like some sort of megaphone from heaven. It's as if God himself ordained this day for me to hear of it. I have never heard this scripture before. Just a few days ago I cut down my first tree. It was sort of a spiritual experience for me in a way. I guess I was just reflecting on the life of the tree and I felt a bit sad cutting it down, yet really appreciative of its beauty. I needed it for my own purposes, I had to cut it down in order to full fill this purpose.
I wonder if sometimes God sees us the same way. Whether or not our life is perfectly planned or not I don't know. I don't understand if the really hurtful and terrible things that I've felt and been through are ordained by God, or if they are just the result of living in a fallen world with fallen humans full of sin.
But I can tell you that lately I have felt like this tree. Cut off. Dead. Dieing. Weary. Torn up from my own roots. Displaced. And this verse was a profound insight into the human condition. This verse is from a book about Job who had every reason to feel hopeless and lost.
Yet God gives comfort with these words.
I hope that I too can eventually "sprout" and "bud" and that I won't allow the trials of life to kill my spirit and leave me dead. I pray that I will find that "water" I need to grow again and be like that "young plant". I feel old right now and weary. But who has that living water to help me grow? Only Jesus Christ.
Monday, December 8, 2008
GOD OF ALL THE HUNGRY
A Meditation on World Food Day (Oct. 17th)
GOD OF THE HUNGRY (Lyrics by Scott Soper and Seth Martin)
God of all the hungry millions, God who suffers with the poor
still our greed keeps us from sharing with the hungry at our door
all who thirst will thirst no longer when we do as you would do
may we care for all your people, help us know that they are you
help us know that they are you
God who travels with the stranger, greeted by our apathy
teach us to embrace all people, all can live with dignity
you have bid us clothe the naked, bringing hope in all we do
may we welcome all your people, help us know that they are you
help us know that they are you
God who loves the sick, the dying, they are precious in your sight
we will bring them your compassion, fill their living with your light
God who brings the captive freedom, free our hearts to love anew
may we comfort all your people, help us know that they are you
help us know that they are you
God who breathes through wind and thunder, God who feeds the ground with leaves
day and night we've raped and plundered, ever silencing your screams
we have crushed the earth that bore us, pillaged all that's come to view
oh, save us from our self-destruction, help us know this world is you
help us know this world is you
God who guides the salmon cycles, God whose body is our land
teach us how to hear your singing, how to be your feet and hands
far too long we've hated nature, feared the old and silenced youth
save these lands, love pacify us, help us know that we are you
help us know that we are you
God our mother, love's creator, fount of all that's pure and right
God our father , sister, brother, earth and skyway, dark and light
far too long we've isolated mind from body,
life from truth reunite our souls and bodies, help us know that they are you
help us know that they are you
God of all the hungry millions, God who suffers with the poor
still our greed keeps us from sharing with the hungry at our door
all who thirst will thirst no longer when we do as you would do
may we care for all your people, help us know that they are youhelp us know that they are you(Lyrics half from Soper's hymn, "God of the Hungry", and half from myself)
GOD OF THE HUNGRY (Lyrics by Scott Soper and Seth Martin)
God of all the hungry millions, God who suffers with the poor
still our greed keeps us from sharing with the hungry at our door
all who thirst will thirst no longer when we do as you would do
may we care for all your people, help us know that they are you
help us know that they are you
God who travels with the stranger, greeted by our apathy
teach us to embrace all people, all can live with dignity
you have bid us clothe the naked, bringing hope in all we do
may we welcome all your people, help us know that they are you
help us know that they are you
God who loves the sick, the dying, they are precious in your sight
we will bring them your compassion, fill their living with your light
God who brings the captive freedom, free our hearts to love anew
may we comfort all your people, help us know that they are you
help us know that they are you
God who breathes through wind and thunder, God who feeds the ground with leaves
day and night we've raped and plundered, ever silencing your screams
we have crushed the earth that bore us, pillaged all that's come to view
oh, save us from our self-destruction, help us know this world is you
help us know this world is you
God who guides the salmon cycles, God whose body is our land
teach us how to hear your singing, how to be your feet and hands
far too long we've hated nature, feared the old and silenced youth
save these lands, love pacify us, help us know that we are you
help us know that we are you
God our mother, love's creator, fount of all that's pure and right
God our father , sister, brother, earth and skyway, dark and light
far too long we've isolated mind from body,
life from truth reunite our souls and bodies, help us know that they are you
help us know that they are you
God of all the hungry millions, God who suffers with the poor
still our greed keeps us from sharing with the hungry at our door
all who thirst will thirst no longer when we do as you would do
may we care for all your people, help us know that they are youhelp us know that they are you(Lyrics half from Soper's hymn, "God of the Hungry", and half from myself)
Sunday, December 7, 2008
God and stained glass windows
So I cut down my first Christmas tree today. My husband was going to do it but it started to pour rain, as it typically does here in Portland, Oregon. I have been determined for years to go as a family and cut down a tree together. But Justin was convinced it'd just be a scene from National Lampoons Christmas, with three kids and all . . . All the mud and mess and God knows what else. So I ventured out alone to find the perfect tree. I went to a local farm and walked for a good half hour searching for that perfect tree. I finally found one, and it is close to perfect. A good Douglas. I named the tree "Fred" and felt an automatic relationship such as I have never had with a tree. You can laugh, it may sound silly. But really I think people really don't appreciate all that a typical Christmas tree is. This tree that I have is older then all of my children. It's been around half of my life. Think of all the water and energy it took for this tree to grow. All so that I could cut it down and bring it to my living room. I recently took a Medicinal Herb class where my teacher talked about plants as if they were people. I thought she was a little crazy for that. She said that she asked plants "permission" before cutting or harvesting them. I don't think she's crazy though. I think there is something to that. I personally am very grateful for this beautiful tree that is just a few feet from me now in my living room. It's majestic, beautiful, almost magic, and the aroma is just soothing to the mind.
I think when we buy a tree off the side of the road we can't really appreciate it as much. We didn't search for it, we didn't work for it. We don't know its origins or from where it came half the time. It feels different to search and find a tree, to choose just one among many, and then actually get down on your knees with a saw and cut through it. I never have cut through a tree before and after about ten minutes of sawing, dripping with water, covered in mud and decorated with pine needles I had success. It was really quite exhilarating to be able to cut my own tree down. It feels so good to work for things sometimes, to get your hands dirty, you know?
So this tree is about fourteen years old and about 9 1/2 feet tall. Quite the tree. My point is take a little time to be thankful for your tree this year. Have a little reverence for it. Tree hugger's have a little bit of a point.
Later that day I went with my family to a contemplative Christmas service at a very old and beautiful church in SE Portland. Old Laurelhurst Church. We arrived very late, having got lost, and only were able to catch the last twenty minutes. But it was a very, very, quiet Christmas service and I think we ticked some folks off coming in late. Not what I expected it to be. We had some friends come with us and we were all in a different mind set when we arrived. We were just listening to Led Zepplin and a variety of other songs on the radio, we had to find parking. We then had to run in and drop our kids off, then we finally got in there and as soon as we sat down we just about bursted out laughing. It was hard to contain ourselves. We were trying to be quiet and respectful, honestly. It sort of felt like middle school again when you're in the class room and the teacher is talking and you and a friend just find something hilarious that no one else understands. It's not that anything was that funny, its just transitioning from normal every day life to a very quiet and sober service was almost impossible.
The church itself was amazing architecturally. Intricate stained glass windows line the walls, wooden pews, soft lighting. You'd expect I'd feel something. But sometimes God isn't found in stained glass windows.It was a very Greek Orthodox sort of service, which is awesome if you're in the right mind set. But when we walked in it was dead silent.And from some corner we heard a voice say"Jesus" and then there was silence, and then we heard "Flesh". I don't know why it set us off, but it just came off hilarious because we were expecting a completely different service, this one was a bit over the top serious for us. I was in the mood to worship and celebrate the birth of Christ, not to act as if it were the funeral of God. To me it felt sad and cold. I think who ever planned the service meant it to be contemplative and a time for very serious reflection. But for some reason it just didn't reach into my soul.
After words we ended up going to the Grotto. Which I would suggest to anyone visiting or living in Portland. Its really quite a special experience. Lots of lights and as you walk up this path there are speakers telling you the Christmas story. There is a very realistic looking Nativity scene, candles, puppet shows for the kids, live animals to pet . . . The best part is the cathedral. Inside there is constant music. A choir comes to sing every hour or so. How special to sit with my kids and listen together. Maisie really enjoyed it. At the end of a song, solely played with the magical sound of bells, the entire audience sang "O come all ye Faithful". What a great moment in time. I wish I could have sat there all night. Really. I felt "God" more in those brief moments of simple people coming together and singing then I did in the hard pews of the previous church. There was more joy there I guess.
There were some wonderful moments.
When I came home I felt a little stressed though. It can be draining to take the kids everywhere, but the smile on their faces is worth it. I came in tonight and logged in to my myspace page and heard Seth Martin's version of Go Tell It On The Mountain. Wow. It was just refreshing . Sometimes God isn't found in stained glass windows and serious Christmas services, sometimes you can hear Him in the banging of a garbage can as a drum, voices belting out "Jesus Christ is Lord". Listen for yourself http://www.myspace.com/sethmartinsmusic
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Wish I could be there . . .
Wish I was here today instead of folding piles of laundry. Running off of coffee and chocolate chip cookies. Although my kids cherish my knowledge of light sabers and the days of the week, it would be nice to take a deep breath of fresh mountain air and exhale a the stress I feel.I would like to leave it all behind today. The constant noise and intrusions to my mind. The interruptions of sales calls and worries over finances.
Humans would have a lot less depression and anxiety if we were all promised a whole day out in nature, at least once a week, leaving all that man has tried to replace nature with. They have tried in vain. Nothing can replace the feeling of being alone in the forest, without a sound. You can hear the beating of your own heart and you're reminded of your humble state again on earth. You realize you are merely dust and someone, something, far greater then yourself has provided such incredible beauty that no man made thing can substitute for. Unfortunately so many of us are forced to pass it by each day. We're too busy to see.
Friday, December 5, 2008
my conversion to blogger.com
I am a blogger convert. All of these post were actually written by me at various times through out the last six months. I used to blog on myspace, but found that to be quite disappointing as there was rarely ever any feed back. Either what I am saying is of no matter to others, which would be an unfortuante reality, or somewhere out there in cyberspace I have an audience. Let me know . . .
great book i read this week
The best book I've read in a very long time on Christianity. It was a breath of fresh air to anyone who struggles with living within a dieing legalistic and out of touch "church" and longs for the reality of Christ to be brought into every day life. I hope I meet the author one day he goes to my church . . .
C.S. Lewis Poem
All this flashy rhetoric about loving you
I never had a selfless thought since i was born
I am a mercenary and all self-seeking through and through
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn
peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals i seek
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin
I talk of love a scholar parrot may talk Greek
But self-imprisoned always end where i begin
I never had a selfless thought since i was born
I am a mercenary and all self-seeking through and through
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn
peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals i seek
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin
I talk of love a scholar parrot may talk Greek
But self-imprisoned always end where i begin
Genocide Makes Me Sick
Genocide makes me sick.Tonight I was watching "Scream Bloody Murder" on CNN. I'm sure it will air again on Sunday. Wow. It's really hard to embrace the reality of how evil and sick humans really can be. I've been watching the history of genocide for an hour now. Starting with when the word "genocide" was even created by a polish man during Hitler's reign.You have the Holocaust. You have Cambodia, the killing fields. You have Rwanda, and then the genocide in Iraq and the show hasn't even gotten to Darfur yet. Makes me absolutely ashamed of this country that claims to want freedom and peace. Yes, freedom and peace for ourselves- however, unless its in our own interest (aka- foreign oil) the hell with the rest of the world. Mark my words, this country has sacrificed human lives on the alter of politics, convenience and power over and over again.Did you know that the government was fully aware of the atrocities taking place in Cambodia, and what did we do when 2 MILLION people were dieing and being tortured? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was Vietnam that eventually went over and ended it. Do you know what America did about about the the genocide of the Kurds in Iraq? NOTHING. Not only did our government do nothing we PROVIDED Saddam with weapons. We provided Iran with weapons at the same time. We couldn't have Iran win though, because they hated us and if they won we wouldn't have oil.It's all about the oil. And when things got ugly between Iran and Iraq we appeased Iraq and did nothing. Even though our government was well aware of the atrocities taking place over there. They knew that Saddam and Chemical Ali were attacking innocent people with chemical weapons. Men, women, children, babies- dead. And you know why the US didn't do anything? Because we WANTED OIL! That's why. God forbid we piss Iraq off and lose our supply of oil.It wasn't until Iraq went and invaded Kuwait (oil) that we finally went in and did something about it. Reagan calling Saddam "Hitler" only after they attacked Kuwait. Not while he was killing thousands of of his own people.Wow- did you really think we went to Iraq this time because of terrorism? No, I think we just had unfinished business. We needed to gain power over there and that's why we went in. Our government only used 9/11 as an excuse. We don't care about others, don't fool yourselves.Please if we cared about terrorism and genocide we would have invaded in Rwanda, we would have stopped the killings in Cambodia. the reason we didn't is because THOSE PEOPLE DON'T MATTER TO THE THE INTEREST OF THE US GOVERNMENT! When it comes to "Human Rights" America has no place to talk.At least not the government and not the millions of uncaring and ignorant Americans who could really care less about other humans that don't directly benefit them somehow.Let's talk about Obama for a minute. Do you think he brings change???What about murder in our very own country? 6 Million people died in the Holocaust. How about these numbers 46 MILLION BABIES HAVE BEEN ABORTED SINCE 1973!!!!!!!!!!! Yes that's how many babies have died in our own country. And everyone who voted for Obama just voted for a man that is about to make it much easier for women to make the "choice" to murder. Look on my page to see the Act he is about to pass.You can go ahead and try and silence me and tell me I am over reacting. But think about these things. Either your conscience is stripped or you are choosing to ignore the facts. America isn't really that great of a country if we can't even stand up for others that are suffering, not overseas and not even in our country.But it doesn't surprise me. If our government won't even save the lives of those they can see they certainly won't care about the unborn whom they cannot see.But you know what? God sees.I am angry,sad, and sickened at the reality of evil and lets not forget that infamous quote.All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.Think about it. How can help prevent evil? How can we raise awareness to others about what is going in the world. Do we educate ourselves so as not to be ignorant of the suffering and death all around us. If not maybe we are part of it . . .
What Christmas Is Really About
Last night I was reading my kids a bed time story, and I chose to read them the story of Christ's birth. I was once again reminded of the amazing story. How miraculous it was, how amazing that Divine Love chose to reveal its self first to the poorest of poor, and to the forgotten. I was thinking about how God chose to be born in a place as terrible as any ghetto or abandoned city like Camden, New Jersey. You'd think a King would have chose somewhere more fitting like Rome or Paris. I thought about how God humbled himself in human flesh, making the journey from the womb and through the birth canal, finally to lay naked and crying, covered in the blood and bodily fluids of Mary, struggling to find her breast and drink from her His own sustenance. I remembered how if it were not for God's profound love for humanity, this event would have never occurred. But on that night,at that time in history, more then just a bedtime story or myth took place, an actual event happened that would forever change the way the world thought of God. With that brilliant star gleaming above a filthy manger, with the stench of animals all about, and very few knowing the miracle of what had just happened, in Nazareth my King arrived.It's hard to keep this in perspective when I am bombarded with all this materialism and pressure from society that Christmas is truly about riches and spending money none of us have. We all think about it every year, we charge our credit cards to make everyone happy and cross our fingers that we don't over draft and that we gave good enough presents.You know I love my friends dearly. If I were rich, trust me I'd probably give away a lot more then I kept. Its unfortunate to think that some of my friends or loved ones may measure my love for them in the gifts I am able to give. The truth is there really isn't any material gift I could give to show how much I love those closest to me. But now I have children and I feel this immense pressure to have a billion Christmas presents under the tree.Problem is I just spent my entire day pulling my hair out, talking to bankers, muttering profanities under my breath and crying over the bills. In the end I discovered that this Christmas won't be like the last, we just cannot afford it and the stack of bills in front of me attest to that. Hmm . . .Great way to start the Christmas Season.Somehow I have to remember that despite Black Friday where others trample people to death so they can get their door-buster prize, Christmas is more then materialism, more then the plastic toy that will soon lay neglected, dusty in the corner, as your child still plays with the box it came with. Christmas is more then a holiday in which children are taught to expect everything, and at the same time taught to give nothing. It's more then a time where parents are sweating over finances and so many around my own neighborhood don't even know how they will afford a "nice" Christmas. No,that's not Christmas. At least not that one that brings tears to my eyes as I listen to Silent Night. I'm not crying over presents and sales at Macy's. I feel emotional because of the birth of Christ, because I can share love with my family and give to others as Christ gave so much to us. St. Nick left the poor small gifts in their shoes. I doubt today that he would be very proud of being the "King" of Christmas. While the true "King" is ignored, as well as His ways.I doubt St. Nick would be happy about saying "Happy Holidays" so as not to offend others with the name of Christ. I doubt he'd be very thrilled about Black Friday and charging credit cards, where Christmas is more about boosting the economy once a year then loving others and living with content in our lives by living within our means. I doubt God is very happy about it either. Christmas is what you make it I suppose. It doesn't mean the same thing to everyone. But I just wish for every ones sake we wouldn't buy in to all the materialism that comes with the season.Christmas has always been about the poor, starting with our Savior. He chose to come wrapped in the humility of humanity. He could have been born anywhere, He could have appeared to anyone. But God chose to come in the lowest form. It is our remembrance of Him that makes Christmas worth having. Honestly if it were all about getting huge gifts that I cannot afford, and stuffing myself with cookies it may not matter to me after awhile. Well. the cookies might matter . . . But really it would all certainly lose its meaning if it were all about the presents.Christmas is an opportunity not only to remind myself of the meaning of my life, the coming of my savior Jesus Christ, but also to remind my children to love each other, our neighbors and others in this world.All I know is that I don't want to give into that pressure this year. I shouldn't have to feel that Christmas in cancelled because I don't have a lot of money. Because if I really believe that to be the truth I have defined Christmas to be something other then what I would like to celebrate it as. I think Linus said it best on Charlie Browns Christmas, which I still remember watching when I was four years old dressed in my pajamas. Linus told everyone what Christmas was really about through a single, simple Bible verse."Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: " Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!"
Dazed and Confused (people that would rather be high then share their lives sober)
Most people would assume I smoke pot. Everything about my lifestyle fits. I love herbs, flowers, art, music and organic food- what many would call a typical "hippie".Oh yeah, except I shave my armpits and legs and wear deodorant. Except it's like the special sort that doesn't have harmful crap in it. My first experience with marijuana was in high school. I was sitting around in a friend's barn on a beautiful summer day and they were passing a joint around. I inhaled only a little with no reaction. There were a few other times I took a "hit" if you could seriously call it that, I really had no idea what I was doing . . .
All in all though, I've never been high. There have been times I really wanted to start using pot and felt the lure of that lifestyle but I never was able to let myself go that way. The fact that I have a mother who has been a drug addict my entire life may be a very good reason that I have abstained from drugs. I mean, really- I lost my mother because of her addictions and I'll never have that time back again. I'm not a little girl any longer and I grew up, with my stoned and addicted mother out of the picture of my life, never to fully return.
This past summer I had the uncanny experience of being exposed to pot at least ten times. Now, being a mother of three - and what some would call your typical stay at home mom (though never labeled a soccer mom), being around others that are using pot is not a common every day event. However while hanging out in Portland,Oregon its a very common place event.So between hanging out with snowboarders, attending the Oregon Country Fair and meeting up with some musicians- I found myself constantly surrounded by a cloud of Cannabis all summer long. I was always offered it as well, and being that I have had a tough year emotionally, I was surprised at myself for not partaking of this wonderful plant.
Part of me really wished I could just let go and give it a try. But there is some deep scar placed in my soul that says that getting high does more then bring pleasure it also destroys people. I can hear it now, any of you that are reading this that love to smoke up . . . Fine. I know you all have a million excuses why smoking pot is so great. I have no doubt that it brings pleasure and temporary peace. Perhaps if it's smoked once in awhile that may even be ok (if it weren't illegal). There has been a lot of debate about whether or not pot is harmful for the brain. Many studies have seemed to prove that smoking up can lead to taking more serious drugs, loss of concentration, there can be serious psychological affects, addiction, and loss of motivation and so on . . . But whether or not it's harmful physically, how about socially? I mean everyone must think they are having the greatest time while they're stoned and with their friends. But how much of the conversation (if any of it, even makes sense) even matters? What does that say about your relationship with the friends you have and the people you love? "I can only have a good time with you when I'm stoned"?
For me everything came to a head the other night. I had planned to meet a friend who's name I won't mention, downtown Portland. He is a very talented and bright musician, whose music I absolutely love to listen to. His lyrics are clever and thought provoking and his melodies are uplifting. I asked if we could meet so I could hear him play a few tunes before he headed out of town. I was picturing a quiet summer night with the guitar and a beer or two, talking and just enjoying the peaceful summer evening. Instead, after meeting up with several others of his friends, the first priority of the night was to smoke up. I was thinking- great- here we go again. I have spent all summer being surrounded by stoner's it seems. Sure enough it was a very miserable evening for me. If you've never done this before I challenge you-spend a few days just sitting and observing people as they get totally wasted and stoned.
Maybe I've just been around the wrong crowd- but even with a few drinks in me I can tell you it was far from amusing. In fact- it absolutely sucked. I was stuck at some one's house I didn't even know and the one person I came to hang out with didn't even talk to me all night. It was as if I didn't even exist. I suffered through endless rambling that made no sense, while no one there took any interest in me what so ever. Now- I know I am what most would call a "people person". People like to talk to me, open up to me and hang out with me, and I with them. But just as a rule of thumb when people are stoned they could care less about you or anything else that is going on around them. Depending on how often they get stoned they may not start to care about anything period. They may just feel depressed and tired and hungry all the time . . .
After passing up yet another opportunity to get high, I listened to my "friend" talk about how most people call pot the "gateway drug" and he denied that was the truth. The ironic thing is that ten minutes later he and his friend were avidly discussing all the psychedelics they'd taken and how it affected them. You know just simple and safe drugs such as Acid and Shrooms . . . But I suppose these drugs weren't taken as a result of first trying the friendliest of all drugs, marijuana. After all, marijuana is certainly not a "gateway "drug, right? All I know is that my mother was smoking up in high school when she was 16. She and my Father actually met while my Father was selling her pot. Pretty romantic huh?
Like, my dad still remembers where they met in the parking lot in New Jersey, the exact spot. Unfortunately my mother began using other drugs as well. Acid, Crystal Meth, and Weed was just the beginning for her, the appetizer. . . She eventually became an alcoholic and addicted to cocaine.
I also had a friend I met when I was 14 that I really liked. His name was Mike. I remember having a conversation with him about smoking pot when we were just kids. He was also very adamant about telling me he would never do any other drugs besides pot. Sure enough- he did- of course. He got in a lot of trouble and wrote me a letter from a half way house years later, telling me how much he had messed up.
So you can see from experience that I am not very keen on the idea of using any sort of drug as an escape from everyday life.
So that night when I heard my stoned friend give quite the lecture about how if you get high you have to "do it right", trying to justify himself, you can imagine I was a bit frustrated. "You can't do it because you want to escape or because you're depressed, you have to do it as the ancients did, in ceremony, to the God's". So said my friend . . . Yes, that's right. Even though he admitted to me that he was feeling a bit lonely, had no job and is sort of depressed, and seemed to indicate he saw no end to the long road before him, and felt a lack of any purpose- I am quite sure he's not smoking pot on a daily basis to escape reality or feel better. But that it's only a pure, sacred ritual..."Unto the God's" of course.
Needless to say, after sitting and listening to my friend get stoned and drunk for a good three hours, and feeling utterly depressed out of my mind, I felt robbed of a pleasant summer night. Most importantly though, I felt robbed of getting to know another human being better and furthering relationship. In the end only three songs were ever played (that's one song per miserable hour), before he was too drunk and stoned to play anything else. I drove home with a renewed resolution: To always is a hippie of some sort but never, ever to be a stoner.
Anyone can give me their reasons for smoking up. But when it causes you to lose interest in the lives of others, or even life it's self, I can safely say that you may need to re-evaluate why you're smoking at all. I haven't come to a solid conclusion on if I believe pot should be legal or not . . . That's a whole other blog. But whether it's legal or not, it has been my own experience that I have lost a lot of potential relationships to drugs. It goes on my list of unfortunate realities that are in everyday life. Knowing people that would rather be high, then share their lives sober is a sad reality. Parents included.
All in all though, I've never been high. There have been times I really wanted to start using pot and felt the lure of that lifestyle but I never was able to let myself go that way. The fact that I have a mother who has been a drug addict my entire life may be a very good reason that I have abstained from drugs. I mean, really- I lost my mother because of her addictions and I'll never have that time back again. I'm not a little girl any longer and I grew up, with my stoned and addicted mother out of the picture of my life, never to fully return.
This past summer I had the uncanny experience of being exposed to pot at least ten times. Now, being a mother of three - and what some would call your typical stay at home mom (though never labeled a soccer mom), being around others that are using pot is not a common every day event. However while hanging out in Portland,Oregon its a very common place event.So between hanging out with snowboarders, attending the Oregon Country Fair and meeting up with some musicians- I found myself constantly surrounded by a cloud of Cannabis all summer long. I was always offered it as well, and being that I have had a tough year emotionally, I was surprised at myself for not partaking of this wonderful plant.
Part of me really wished I could just let go and give it a try. But there is some deep scar placed in my soul that says that getting high does more then bring pleasure it also destroys people. I can hear it now, any of you that are reading this that love to smoke up . . . Fine. I know you all have a million excuses why smoking pot is so great. I have no doubt that it brings pleasure and temporary peace. Perhaps if it's smoked once in awhile that may even be ok (if it weren't illegal). There has been a lot of debate about whether or not pot is harmful for the brain. Many studies have seemed to prove that smoking up can lead to taking more serious drugs, loss of concentration, there can be serious psychological affects, addiction, and loss of motivation and so on . . . But whether or not it's harmful physically, how about socially? I mean everyone must think they are having the greatest time while they're stoned and with their friends. But how much of the conversation (if any of it, even makes sense) even matters? What does that say about your relationship with the friends you have and the people you love? "I can only have a good time with you when I'm stoned"?
For me everything came to a head the other night. I had planned to meet a friend who's name I won't mention, downtown Portland. He is a very talented and bright musician, whose music I absolutely love to listen to. His lyrics are clever and thought provoking and his melodies are uplifting. I asked if we could meet so I could hear him play a few tunes before he headed out of town. I was picturing a quiet summer night with the guitar and a beer or two, talking and just enjoying the peaceful summer evening. Instead, after meeting up with several others of his friends, the first priority of the night was to smoke up. I was thinking- great- here we go again. I have spent all summer being surrounded by stoner's it seems. Sure enough it was a very miserable evening for me. If you've never done this before I challenge you-spend a few days just sitting and observing people as they get totally wasted and stoned.
Maybe I've just been around the wrong crowd- but even with a few drinks in me I can tell you it was far from amusing. In fact- it absolutely sucked. I was stuck at some one's house I didn't even know and the one person I came to hang out with didn't even talk to me all night. It was as if I didn't even exist. I suffered through endless rambling that made no sense, while no one there took any interest in me what so ever. Now- I know I am what most would call a "people person". People like to talk to me, open up to me and hang out with me, and I with them. But just as a rule of thumb when people are stoned they could care less about you or anything else that is going on around them. Depending on how often they get stoned they may not start to care about anything period. They may just feel depressed and tired and hungry all the time . . .
After passing up yet another opportunity to get high, I listened to my "friend" talk about how most people call pot the "gateway drug" and he denied that was the truth. The ironic thing is that ten minutes later he and his friend were avidly discussing all the psychedelics they'd taken and how it affected them. You know just simple and safe drugs such as Acid and Shrooms . . . But I suppose these drugs weren't taken as a result of first trying the friendliest of all drugs, marijuana. After all, marijuana is certainly not a "gateway "drug, right? All I know is that my mother was smoking up in high school when she was 16. She and my Father actually met while my Father was selling her pot. Pretty romantic huh?
Like, my dad still remembers where they met in the parking lot in New Jersey, the exact spot. Unfortunately my mother began using other drugs as well. Acid, Crystal Meth, and Weed was just the beginning for her, the appetizer. . . She eventually became an alcoholic and addicted to cocaine.
I also had a friend I met when I was 14 that I really liked. His name was Mike. I remember having a conversation with him about smoking pot when we were just kids. He was also very adamant about telling me he would never do any other drugs besides pot. Sure enough- he did- of course. He got in a lot of trouble and wrote me a letter from a half way house years later, telling me how much he had messed up.
So you can see from experience that I am not very keen on the idea of using any sort of drug as an escape from everyday life.
So that night when I heard my stoned friend give quite the lecture about how if you get high you have to "do it right", trying to justify himself, you can imagine I was a bit frustrated. "You can't do it because you want to escape or because you're depressed, you have to do it as the ancients did, in ceremony, to the God's". So said my friend . . . Yes, that's right. Even though he admitted to me that he was feeling a bit lonely, had no job and is sort of depressed, and seemed to indicate he saw no end to the long road before him, and felt a lack of any purpose- I am quite sure he's not smoking pot on a daily basis to escape reality or feel better. But that it's only a pure, sacred ritual..."Unto the God's" of course.
Needless to say, after sitting and listening to my friend get stoned and drunk for a good three hours, and feeling utterly depressed out of my mind, I felt robbed of a pleasant summer night. Most importantly though, I felt robbed of getting to know another human being better and furthering relationship. In the end only three songs were ever played (that's one song per miserable hour), before he was too drunk and stoned to play anything else. I drove home with a renewed resolution: To always is a hippie of some sort but never, ever to be a stoner.
Anyone can give me their reasons for smoking up. But when it causes you to lose interest in the lives of others, or even life it's self, I can safely say that you may need to re-evaluate why you're smoking at all. I haven't come to a solid conclusion on if I believe pot should be legal or not . . . That's a whole other blog. But whether it's legal or not, it has been my own experience that I have lost a lot of potential relationships to drugs. It goes on my list of unfortunate realities that are in everyday life. Knowing people that would rather be high, then share their lives sober is a sad reality. Parents included.
the true confessions of a stay at home mom
Noah, Maisie, Elijah, and I in an orchard near my house....
I stood there looking at their chubby cheeks and smiling faces, cut out from pictures and taped to the cubbies. They were two, three and five years of age. Some faces looked forlorn and sort of reminded me of the ones you'd see on the back of a milk carton. But these children weren't missing, they were just at daycare. I was standing there contemplating whether Maisie and Noah's pictures would soon be up there to. I saw a father pick up his son, the little boy reluctant to leave as he contentedly sucked on a lollipop and watched the television. I wondered if he was happier at home or there. The women who ran the day care out of her home seemed kind enough. She explained to me how attached she felt to some of the kids and how she just had to say goodbye to one that had a terrible home life.The house was clean but needed a little help. I wasn't impressed by the garage with the fluorescent lights converted into a child's playroom. The kitchen seemed small and I was trying to picture Maisie and Noah happy there without me. As she finished the tour I felt a little apprehensive about the whole thing. I left with a friendly goodbye knowing in my heart I could never leave my kids there for any amount of hours. To explain why I was even there in the first place you'd have to hear about the rest of my day . . .
Earlier that day I had been having a personal break down. I was consumed with thoughts that I had wasted the best years of my life. Being married at the young and naive age of 19 has plagued me in a way. I was quick to become dependent upon a man and have babies. Blame it on my dysfunctional family that never taught me independence, blame it on my idealistic beliefs at the time, somewhere in my adolescent mind I convinced myself that getting married at such a young age was normal. So, I have now been a stay at home mom for almost seven years.
For whatever reason that particular day, before I was ever standing at the daycare, I was ready to run out the door of my own home. If I saw one more Cheerio stuck on the couch covers, if I heard one more whine about having to pee, if I had to wipe one more butt, or get one more glass of water I was going to scream. It could have been PMS, it could have been the fact that my husband has been studying day and night for grad school, I don't know. But that day I lost it. I was walking around the house crying ,while my three year old Noah frantically colored pictures of the Hulk for me in his coloring book in order to cheer me up.
I kept thinking "forget this"! "I give up"! "Who was I fooling to to think I could actually be a stay at home mom?" I began to scheme a way of escape in my head as the kids crawled up the walls and sorted through the already messy laundry pile. Maybe I'd get a part time job at . . .I don't know . . A coffee house, a pet store, something, anything to get some time away! To feel I've accomplished something more then making dinner and fixing a broken toy. Or maybe I should just focus on school. I have no degree.I've never been to college and its amazing how awkward life is socially when you don't even have a BA or a BS or a PHD. How humiliated I sometimes feel when people ask my occupation and I say I am a stay at home mom .I think of myself as lower on the spectrum of the modern day women. I have all the ambition of a young successful women, but feel I have no outlet. All of these thoughts were racing through my head that day when my unsuspecting husband, oblivious to my thoughts, walks into the door with a smile on his face. I was so mad at the time I wanted to slap him. Of course it wasn't his fault. He had just returned from a long day at the university he attends. While he works his way up from a Masters to a PSYD, I can sometimes feel a bit left out and envious, as I stay at home and fold socks and wipe at runny noses. I was feeling the need to be powerful, successful, or gain some worth in this world. Needless to say he was the victim of my terrible day at home. I spitefully announced that I'd be getting a full time job and leaving Noah and Maisie at daycare. He raised his eyebrows at the idea, but said that he supported me if I really thought that was what I needed and if I was that depressed with being a stay at home mother. He also reminded me of my value as a mother and questioned my motives for wanting to get a job. However much his questions stirred up my own, fixated on my new idea of success, that very hour I put on my shoes and headed out the door to find job applications. All the while I was thinking of not seeing Maisie, Noah and Elijah for most my day. I missed their grubby little faces already. The feelings of doubt began to sink in. And after my tour at the daycare I decided I probably just needed to take a deep breath and re-evaluated what I thought.
As I searched for job apps I stopped by Borders to find a birthday gift for a friend of mine. As I scanned the shelves for something interesting my eyes stopped upon a journal for mothers. I opened it up to the first page and tears met my eyes as I read the following poem from a man to his mother;
You wrote no lofty poems
That critics counted art,
But with a nobler vision
You lived them in your heart.
You carved no shapeless marble
To some high soul design.
But with a finer sculpture
You shaped this soul of mine.
You built no great cathedrals
That centuries applaud;
But with a grace exquisite
Your life cathedraled God.
Thomas Fessenden
As the tears came to my eyes I resolved right then and there to be a better mother and to be a mother that had joy for what she did. Sure I was still a little sad but I was reminded of the greater things in life. The heart within each child of mine.Suddenly all the laughter of my children and all the memories I had of them running around the house came back to me. Did I really want to leave that behind? After all, I only have three years left of this, and then they'll be off to school and I'll never be able to live these days again. Their hands will never be as small for holding and their hearts not nearly as impressionable and vulnerable, as right now. I didn't want to give that up for a part time job or a few more college credits. For now I am going to once again venture into my mother hood with the determination to love my children more then I love myself. I realize that society doesn't always recognize true success and if I can raise my children to be good people, to love God, to love others, then that is more fulfilling then any degree I could ever earn, or any resume I could ever create. If I can display God to them through my love, then that is what truly matters. Their hearts are everlasting, while this world and all that is in it is quickly fading away . . .After all who else is there to mold their little hearts and minds? . . .Ok, back to Cheerios and laundry.
Earlier that day I had been having a personal break down. I was consumed with thoughts that I had wasted the best years of my life. Being married at the young and naive age of 19 has plagued me in a way. I was quick to become dependent upon a man and have babies. Blame it on my dysfunctional family that never taught me independence, blame it on my idealistic beliefs at the time, somewhere in my adolescent mind I convinced myself that getting married at such a young age was normal. So, I have now been a stay at home mom for almost seven years.
For whatever reason that particular day, before I was ever standing at the daycare, I was ready to run out the door of my own home. If I saw one more Cheerio stuck on the couch covers, if I heard one more whine about having to pee, if I had to wipe one more butt, or get one more glass of water I was going to scream. It could have been PMS, it could have been the fact that my husband has been studying day and night for grad school, I don't know. But that day I lost it. I was walking around the house crying ,while my three year old Noah frantically colored pictures of the Hulk for me in his coloring book in order to cheer me up.
I kept thinking "forget this"! "I give up"! "Who was I fooling to to think I could actually be a stay at home mom?" I began to scheme a way of escape in my head as the kids crawled up the walls and sorted through the already messy laundry pile. Maybe I'd get a part time job at . . .I don't know . . A coffee house, a pet store, something, anything to get some time away! To feel I've accomplished something more then making dinner and fixing a broken toy. Or maybe I should just focus on school. I have no degree.I've never been to college and its amazing how awkward life is socially when you don't even have a BA or a BS or a PHD. How humiliated I sometimes feel when people ask my occupation and I say I am a stay at home mom .I think of myself as lower on the spectrum of the modern day women. I have all the ambition of a young successful women, but feel I have no outlet. All of these thoughts were racing through my head that day when my unsuspecting husband, oblivious to my thoughts, walks into the door with a smile on his face. I was so mad at the time I wanted to slap him. Of course it wasn't his fault. He had just returned from a long day at the university he attends. While he works his way up from a Masters to a PSYD, I can sometimes feel a bit left out and envious, as I stay at home and fold socks and wipe at runny noses. I was feeling the need to be powerful, successful, or gain some worth in this world. Needless to say he was the victim of my terrible day at home. I spitefully announced that I'd be getting a full time job and leaving Noah and Maisie at daycare. He raised his eyebrows at the idea, but said that he supported me if I really thought that was what I needed and if I was that depressed with being a stay at home mother. He also reminded me of my value as a mother and questioned my motives for wanting to get a job. However much his questions stirred up my own, fixated on my new idea of success, that very hour I put on my shoes and headed out the door to find job applications. All the while I was thinking of not seeing Maisie, Noah and Elijah for most my day. I missed their grubby little faces already. The feelings of doubt began to sink in. And after my tour at the daycare I decided I probably just needed to take a deep breath and re-evaluated what I thought.
As I searched for job apps I stopped by Borders to find a birthday gift for a friend of mine. As I scanned the shelves for something interesting my eyes stopped upon a journal for mothers. I opened it up to the first page and tears met my eyes as I read the following poem from a man to his mother;
You wrote no lofty poems
That critics counted art,
But with a nobler vision
You lived them in your heart.
You carved no shapeless marble
To some high soul design.
But with a finer sculpture
You shaped this soul of mine.
You built no great cathedrals
That centuries applaud;
But with a grace exquisite
Your life cathedraled God.
Thomas Fessenden
As the tears came to my eyes I resolved right then and there to be a better mother and to be a mother that had joy for what she did. Sure I was still a little sad but I was reminded of the greater things in life. The heart within each child of mine.Suddenly all the laughter of my children and all the memories I had of them running around the house came back to me. Did I really want to leave that behind? After all, I only have three years left of this, and then they'll be off to school and I'll never be able to live these days again. Their hands will never be as small for holding and their hearts not nearly as impressionable and vulnerable, as right now. I didn't want to give that up for a part time job or a few more college credits. For now I am going to once again venture into my mother hood with the determination to love my children more then I love myself. I realize that society doesn't always recognize true success and if I can raise my children to be good people, to love God, to love others, then that is more fulfilling then any degree I could ever earn, or any resume I could ever create. If I can display God to them through my love, then that is what truly matters. Their hearts are everlasting, while this world and all that is in it is quickly fading away . . .After all who else is there to mold their little hearts and minds? . . .Ok, back to Cheerios and laundry.
a poem I wrote
You laugh and silence our deep questions,
your grunts of apathy are foreign, they haunt me and displace me.
I'm left to wonder all alone why I'm here in the first place.
Is anything sacred to you? You sometimes take the breath from life.
You meet innocence with scornfullness, laughing in the face of the dreamer.
Does the silence ever beckon you to wonder?
I wish you could just sit here for a moment and wonder with me.
Do you ever listen to all the noise of humanity?
Can't you hear that beautiful, tragic buzz?
You act as if you've already lived to seventy and there's nothing left to know.
No point in asking anything or exploring any further.
I sit alone in a room where your breath penetrates the air, but the emptiness
echo's off the walls, reverberating into my heart all I've ever known of you.
My words are like soundwaves, existing, carrying a message, a meaning,
a rhythm. But you're like a radio that's been turned off, broken, collecting
dust in the corner. You can't pick me up can you?
I just said something, did you hear?
Hello? Hello?
I keep wondering and you sit there so oblivious.
your grunts of apathy are foreign, they haunt me and displace me.
I'm left to wonder all alone why I'm here in the first place.
Is anything sacred to you? You sometimes take the breath from life.
You meet innocence with scornfullness, laughing in the face of the dreamer.
Does the silence ever beckon you to wonder?
I wish you could just sit here for a moment and wonder with me.
Do you ever listen to all the noise of humanity?
Can't you hear that beautiful, tragic buzz?
You act as if you've already lived to seventy and there's nothing left to know.
No point in asking anything or exploring any further.
I sit alone in a room where your breath penetrates the air, but the emptiness
echo's off the walls, reverberating into my heart all I've ever known of you.
My words are like soundwaves, existing, carrying a message, a meaning,
a rhythm. But you're like a radio that's been turned off, broken, collecting
dust in the corner. You can't pick me up can you?
I just said something, did you hear?
Hello? Hello?
I keep wondering and you sit there so oblivious.
MY OWN THOUGHTS ON SAVING THE WORLD
Children of the black dust/ My own thoughts on saving the world . .
"Think about the starving children in Africa", I frequently hear from others when I am told to be thankful for all I have. We've all been told that at some point. Yet we are all so self involved with our own personal tragedies and worries, its a challenge to keep up with all the horrific tragedy that occurs in everyday life over seas. Should we really care? I mean it doesn't seem that we can do anything about it.Also just because we are aware of others and their sufferings, doesn't take away the reality of our own suffering.
If there were two of me I suppose one of me would stay home with the kids and the other me would be feeding the homeless, working in an orphanage in Calcutta, saving child prostitutes in the Philippines, helping young mothers in the inner city. The need is just so great . . . But what can I do at this minute when I hear about these sad stories of real people that experience such darkness each day? I think the answer is not only to pray for those that suffer worldwide, but to embrace the tragic reality of their lives and carry it with me in my heart. Ignoring it will only make me complacent. Convincing myself that its not my job to one day help, or that the need is too great to meet, will only seal my fate to live out the American dream, with no regard to the dieing and lonely people in the rest of the world. In ten years I'll be so wrapped up in my own life that I'll have no time to even think of the starving children and orphans and homeless. But wait, that doesn't need to be the case.
I have been thinking of things I can do lately to make my own children aware of the rest of the world. One of my ideas was to buy a world map and hang it in our house. Each week I would pin a different place in the world and teach my children who lives there and the history of that country and then specifically pray for the needs of that country. It seems so simple, but profound all at once.I would be so blessed to instill that concern for others in the hearts of my children.
I don't necessarily think its a good idea to put ministry before family.After all, our first ministry should be our own family. I have seen and heard stories of families and children ruined by this notion to put the needs of the world before the needs of their family. The dysfunction and hurt being the direct result of diving in to save the world,while putting your own family on the back burner.
Mother Teresa said "It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start.
She also said, "We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty".
How profound is that? Isn't she right? If I cannot have compassion, respect and love for my own husband and children then in my mind, I do not belong over seas as a missionary. On the other hand, none of us are perfect and I do not think that God expects perfection in order to use us. If that were the case we would all be rendered absolutely useless.
So in being reminded once again of the poverty of others I think these are my thoughts on the issue. I should be concerned the most for my family, then my nearest neighbor, my friends, and even my enemies. After I can say I have honestly made a great effort to love those people placed in my life I can move on to be faithful in loving those poor souls that are the forgotten of this world.
But in the meantime, until the right time comes to go and help those people. I can daily remind myself and even immerse myself in being aware of the poverty and injustice in this world and I can make others aware of it as well. So read the article below and contemplate your own life today and don't forget the poor! Jesus said not to. I'm going to get that world map today. .
.http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmNubi5jb20vMjAwOC9URUNIL3NjaWVuY2UvMDkvMjgvd2hhdC5tYXR0ZXJzLmR1c3QvaW5kZXguaHRtbA==
As she cleans the carbon rods from exhausted D-cell batteries, Marjina holds her young child on her lap and gently lulls her to sleep.
Learn about these peoples lives, and contemplate your own in comparison. Be thankful for all we have.
"Think about the starving children in Africa", I frequently hear from others when I am told to be thankful for all I have. We've all been told that at some point. Yet we are all so self involved with our own personal tragedies and worries, its a challenge to keep up with all the horrific tragedy that occurs in everyday life over seas. Should we really care? I mean it doesn't seem that we can do anything about it.Also just because we are aware of others and their sufferings, doesn't take away the reality of our own suffering.
If there were two of me I suppose one of me would stay home with the kids and the other me would be feeding the homeless, working in an orphanage in Calcutta, saving child prostitutes in the Philippines, helping young mothers in the inner city. The need is just so great . . . But what can I do at this minute when I hear about these sad stories of real people that experience such darkness each day? I think the answer is not only to pray for those that suffer worldwide, but to embrace the tragic reality of their lives and carry it with me in my heart. Ignoring it will only make me complacent. Convincing myself that its not my job to one day help, or that the need is too great to meet, will only seal my fate to live out the American dream, with no regard to the dieing and lonely people in the rest of the world. In ten years I'll be so wrapped up in my own life that I'll have no time to even think of the starving children and orphans and homeless. But wait, that doesn't need to be the case.
I have been thinking of things I can do lately to make my own children aware of the rest of the world. One of my ideas was to buy a world map and hang it in our house. Each week I would pin a different place in the world and teach my children who lives there and the history of that country and then specifically pray for the needs of that country. It seems so simple, but profound all at once.I would be so blessed to instill that concern for others in the hearts of my children.
I don't necessarily think its a good idea to put ministry before family.After all, our first ministry should be our own family. I have seen and heard stories of families and children ruined by this notion to put the needs of the world before the needs of their family. The dysfunction and hurt being the direct result of diving in to save the world,while putting your own family on the back burner.
Mother Teresa said "It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start.
She also said, "We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty".
How profound is that? Isn't she right? If I cannot have compassion, respect and love for my own husband and children then in my mind, I do not belong over seas as a missionary. On the other hand, none of us are perfect and I do not think that God expects perfection in order to use us. If that were the case we would all be rendered absolutely useless.
So in being reminded once again of the poverty of others I think these are my thoughts on the issue. I should be concerned the most for my family, then my nearest neighbor, my friends, and even my enemies. After I can say I have honestly made a great effort to love those people placed in my life I can move on to be faithful in loving those poor souls that are the forgotten of this world.
But in the meantime, until the right time comes to go and help those people. I can daily remind myself and even immerse myself in being aware of the poverty and injustice in this world and I can make others aware of it as well. So read the article below and contemplate your own life today and don't forget the poor! Jesus said not to. I'm going to get that world map today. .
.http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmNubi5jb20vMjAwOC9URUNIL3NjaWVuY2UvMDkvMjgvd2hhdC5tYXR0ZXJzLmR1c3QvaW5kZXguaHRtbA==
As she cleans the carbon rods from exhausted D-cell batteries, Marjina holds her young child on her lap and gently lulls her to sleep.
Learn about these peoples lives, and contemplate your own in comparison. Be thankful for all we have.
Lona Fowler Poem
Middle Time Current mood: contemplative Category: Writing and Poetry
Middle Time
Between the exhilaration of Beginning and the satisfaction of Concluding is the middle Time
of enduring,changing, trying,
despairing, continuing, becoming.
Jesus Christ was the Man of God's Middle Time
between Creation and Accomplishment.
Through Him God said of Creation,
"Without mistake".
And of Accomplishment, "Without doubt".
And we in our Middle Times of wondering,waiting, hurrying, hesitating, regretting, revising;
We who have begun many things-
and seen but few completed;
We who are becoming more- and less;
through the evidence of God's Middle Time have a stabilizing hint
that we are not mistakes, that we are irreplaceable, that our Being is
of interest, and our doing is of purpose, that our Being and our Doing
are surrounded by AMEN.
Jesus Christ is the Completer of unfinished people
with unfinished work
in unfinished times.
May He keep us from sinking, ceasing, wasting, solidifying-
That we may be for Him
experimenters, enablers, encouragers and associates in Accomplishment.
Lona Fowler
Middle Time
Between the exhilaration of Beginning and the satisfaction of Concluding is the middle Time
of enduring,changing, trying,
despairing, continuing, becoming.
Jesus Christ was the Man of God's Middle Time
between Creation and Accomplishment.
Through Him God said of Creation,
"Without mistake".
And of Accomplishment, "Without doubt".
And we in our Middle Times of wondering,waiting, hurrying, hesitating, regretting, revising;
We who have begun many things-
and seen but few completed;
We who are becoming more- and less;
through the evidence of God's Middle Time have a stabilizing hint
that we are not mistakes, that we are irreplaceable, that our Being is
of interest, and our doing is of purpose, that our Being and our Doing
are surrounded by AMEN.
Jesus Christ is the Completer of unfinished people
with unfinished work
in unfinished times.
May He keep us from sinking, ceasing, wasting, solidifying-
That we may be for Him
experimenters, enablers, encouragers and associates in Accomplishment.
Lona Fowler
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