Neutral

Tonight at youth group, we had a guest speaker in town! Woot woot shout out to Stephen!

You know how when a person shares often one phrase will stick out and stay stuck on you? Yes that happened. Stephen had a word for our group; he said he got this picture of a car that was in neutral and just revving up and revving up, but because it wasn't in gear, it couldn't go anywhere. He went on to share how spiritually we can do the same and be putting all of this empty energy into God when what we need to do first is "get in gear."

And it hit my heart. Whammo. But, strangely, I didn't know why it affected me in my chest so much, because I didn't completely understand it. What does it mean to be "in gear" with God. And what defines energy as "empty" or "wasted" (i.e. revving up)? No energy or effort spent on God is wasted right? But . . . this energy can be ineffective.

So, I probed my mind a little more as the night continued, and a word landed on my brain totally unlocking the idea for me -- obedience. OBEDIENCE is the gear (to continue the metaphor). Often, I will have a period of closeness with the Lord, but then, through a series of little steps, I find myself, two weeks later, in a fog and not knowing how I got there. I then proceed to talk to God, and He tells me, "What was the last thing I asked you to obey me about?" That drifting, the subtle, sneaky drift, happens when I ignore God's often subtle (but clear) voice.

If I'm not in obedience to God, I can pour all the energy I want out, raise my hands during worship, cry on my knees in prayer, but it might not be moving things forward at all.

The thing about obedience is, it can often smack of legalism. When I hear a voice in my head saying to sacrifice some movie veggin' time for God time, I most often dismiss it as the "pharisee" within. God is a God of grace; He wants me to enjoy myself. This is so true. But but but --- there are times when God definitely asks for the sacrifice of your time. Because it is a thing as "small" as time, I don't consider it disobedience. I'm not a pothead or sex addict . . . and so I justify my disobedience.

But ignoring God's voice is ignoring God's voice, not matter what the situation. Period.

And the scary thing. The subtly, sneaky scary thing is -- these little disobediences are one of the biggest reasons why we drift out of gear. Why we pour out energy. Rev our engines. And stay in the same spot. Parked in the garage.

Okay, thanks, Stephen for this grand metaphor, which I've proceeded to juice for all its worth.

Love an stuff,
Chris

Explanations

So, this blog isn't completely abandoned. Yes. It's been almost a year since the last post. But, let me explain.

I think one of the biggest reasons why I don't blog is because of my relationship with writing. For me, it is a personal deal. I am terrible at faking emotion or writing only half of what I think. It sort of dries up the creativity in my opinion.

Honesty seems inseparably linked to imagination. Thus, writing is me -- what you see is what's really there, not a hyped up, toned down, or glossed over version.
But, the itch to write (and not just "journal" write, but form thoughts to share), has been bothering my brain. I revamped the blog a little, seriously considered taking off some of my older posts (but then decided no -- that was part of me), and here I am again -- the cyber version anyways.


And all this mulling on blogging has me thinking about imagination and creativity in general. The times of my life that I would consider the most beautiful are those moments when I have been creating. I don't consider myself an artsy person. I'd love to consider myself as such. But, remember, I have this chronic honesty problem.

But think about this, art is not a synonym of creativity. Art is a PART of creativity, but it is not the only thing. Consider, within the word "creativity" is the root "create," and creating can apply to a million different things. The important thing is that YOU are engaged in the act.

Passivity is easy. And, granted, there are times when being the spectator is necessary. You can learn from others' creations, etc. But, if it stops there, you will become glutted with what you see and hear. Just like with food, we take in creativity so we can breathe it out.

The piece of art carries parts of the artist, right? Perhaps it's debatable, but the creator leaves his touch on his work; it's part of him. In the same way, I think humans were created to resemble their artist as well. I believe God is a creating entity, and He left his touch all over us -- meaning we are also creators. Made in the image of a creating God. No, I cannot whip up galaxies -- but I can spin up poetry to describe them.

Welcome back once again, Christen, to blogging.

Coastal Storms

I just got back from a stay at the Oregon Coast, the place I would rather be than anywhere else. It even tops the library. Can you believe it? I love the craggy beauty - the flat, wet beaches, the huge rugged rock masses, the violent waves . . . even storms are gorgeous at the beach.
I was actually hoping for a storm. So, when I woke up this morning and saw my window pane streaked with raindrops, I was a happy girl. The ocean completely changes color when it's stormy. It becomes this liquid gray, and the curling white foam stands out even stronger, wilder.
I was a little surprised by my attitude this spring break. Maybe it's because I'm so used to racing around, maybe it's because I'm a workaholic. Whatever the case (and I don't think it's the "workaholic" one), I had a few bumps in the road. Isn't that weird? I was at the place I love the most with the people I love the most reading one of my favorite novels, and I felt uneasy, unsettled.
I guess we all go through times like that, and mine just emerged over spring break. But, when you have time, you get confronted with your issues. The distraction I rail against can actually be my best friend. My quiet times with the Jesus man helped, but I'm still dealing with some stuff, some blue emotions you're not supposed to feel on vacation (for pete's sake!). Who knew spring break would evoke a case of the spring mopes.
Still, I shouldn't complain too much. I'll be thrust into the whirlwind on Monday. For the remaining days of vacation, maybe I can discover why I feel so strange, just not at peace. Maybe drawing near to Peace Himself . . .

The Biggest Tragedy

Distraction. Distraction. It's like a fog the is brooding over Salem. It makes people sleepy and keeps their eyes down, looking only to the next day, or to the upcoming weekend. It gives that people the feeling you get when you are warm and sleepy and have nowhere to go. Movement seems unnecessary.
Or maybe you like to move. Maybe you can't stop moving, and the fog of distraction is like a cold wind blowing on you. You can't stay in one spot too long or you'll start thinking about what life is really like.
Distraction. Is synonymous with deception. When you believe a lie, it's a hard to imagine something else besides it could be true. When you believe that it's perfectly fine to have your life lined up, with the schools you'll attend, the person you'll marry, and the career you'll have, and treat the Creator of the universe like He is optional, that is when you commit the worst tragedy of tragedies.
Distraction can be sleepy, it can be active, it can be fun, but it is all wrong. All wrong. All wrong. It makes me cry, makes me weep, when I see it. When I commit it. Because, when I see distraction, it is like seeing a blind man refusing to have his sight restored. It is like seeing a child that is starving stuff his face with mud and refuse to come inside and be filled.
I think part of the reason this distraction is so deceptive is because we think God is all cuddles and fluff. It is TRUE that we can call Him Daddy. It is TRUE that we can be intimate, that He loves us more than life. But it is ALSO TRUE that He is a big, huge God who made not us, but everything we see with our eyes. It is ALSO TRUE that He is a God of justice, a God of power, and a King. If you were in the same room with the President, or with your favorite celebrity/author/athlete (Michael Jordan, etc), you wouldn't ignore him would you?
C.S. Lewis probably would be my best friend if he was still alive. I love how in Chronicles of Narnia he has this part talking about Aslan, and how he is this wild, untamed lion. But. He's good. That's our God. He is a GOOD, WILD, UNTAMED GOD. He's not a God that we can keep in our pocket and then take out whenever we're in trouble, or at our final exams and realize we haven't studied enough. He's so HUGE, so out of our control, and I feel like our distraction from Him, our blatant ignorance of His presence, is the biggest tragedy of all.
I know this distraction is hard to avoid. Like I said earlier, it pervades our city, our society, and it is sneaky. It seems harmless. To watch as many movies as you want. Spend as much time on facebook as you want. And maybe that's totally fine. Maybe you can do that with Jesus and it can be an awesome experience. All I know is that I've been hearing His voice lately, stronger and stronger. And He says, "Make room for me." Clear out the junk. Accept the new sight He wants to give you. Accept the real meal deal He has for you.
We can only live and honor Him like He deserves IF He helps us. Isn't that funny? We're so dependent on Him to worship Him. So, I just say, Jesus, I know you're the only thing in life worthy of my love; help me stay clear, and not be swept into the cycle of routine and pleasure. Into this meaninglessness. There is MORE to this life. Get hungry, people.

The World of Wrestling - aka How Christen is Spending Her Saturdays

Micah has another wrestling tournament tomorrow. You know you really love someone when you spend five hours in a gym that smells like it 100 armpits and is full of teenage guys maxed out on testosterone. Last year (when the baby bro started wrestling), I was really reluctant to go to these matches, or meets, or whatever the appropriate term is. Once, he had to wrestle a g-i-r-l , and I felt like my stomach was going to fall out of my body.
This year, I think I've improved in my wrestling fan skills. I've gone to two tournaments, and I've learned how a wrestler earns points in his match. So, now, when I'm cheering at Micah, or yelling at the refs, I can at least sound half-educated.
Last Saturday he wrestled these burly farm boys, and one of them (a little stinker) started choking Micah. Micah's face was turning blue and me and my mom were screaming at the top of our lungs at the ref. Thankfully, Micah couldn't really hear us, so he wasn't embarrassed. Apparently the ref couldn't hear either.
I'm actually kind of excited for tomorrow. Excited and nervous. Geez, I feel almost as nervous as though I'm wrestling. Ha - but if it were me wrestling, the match would last 20 seconds. I would be on my back, pinned, or running away from my opponent. Not my sport.
Ah, highschool sports. I'm glad to be out of those four years and its abundance of drama and self-absorption, but I do miss certain things. And sports is one of those. For non-athletes, this won't really make sense, but going back to my old highschool's gym to watch Micah wrestle or Abby play volleyball is a nostalgic time.
Just the smell in South's gym (before it smells so bad like armpits) takes me back immediately to when I was wearing my white jersey with the red number #15. The squirmy, anxious feeling I got right before tip-off, the sweaty palms, the jittery legs, the thrill of hearing the crowd. It all comes back.
Unfortunately, Micah won't be at South's gym but McMinnville's tomorrow. Must brace self. Must learn wrestler lingo. Must avoid embarrassing brother.

Dedicated to Three Hikers on Hood

My heart is pretty heavy as I write this. We just finished a Christmas movie: "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." We laughed and I felt cozy and drowsy in my afghan. But, then , my dad turned on the news and my heart started to fall a little bit. It feels like it's dropped, too heavy to stay high in my chest.
It was a news story about hikers on Mt. Hood. They got caught in a storm; one's body's been found, the other two are still missing. I can't, I just can't watch that and go back to working on my fun, fictional story. I'm struck with sadness. They are young. Mid to late twenties, around my age. They love Jesus, just like me. The young woman worked as a an advocate against trafficking. The two guys met at a Christian camp. Their pictures are those of people glowing with health. So full of life they seem to overflow with it. Such normal, lovely people. My stomach feels a little sick. Sometimes I can ignore the death around me, but every now and then, it s through my armor and makes me sick.
I think what makes me sick the most is how good they sound. They are active, beautiful, normal people. The kind of people I work with. The kind of people I go to school with. The kind of person my best friend is, or my sister, or my brothers. And my stomach feels sick.
Death is a surprise sometimes. A horrible surprise, and it shocks me when I see it. It can turn everything upside down. I just pray and pray that the other two hikers are still up there in the storm, alive. I pray that God's love would be like a warm blanket and wrap around them, and wrap around their families.
It's easy to close your heart, sometimes. I can make excuses for not feeling, like "If they would've been more prepared," or "That sort of thing is common for extreme hikers." But, I can't, I just can't forget it right now.
As I was praying for them, I was struck, though, with a thought. I'm going to see those hikers some day. Those hikers who love Jesus. I'll get to meet them, and we'll all get to spend forever together. Forever in happiness. I can see how the thought of eternity is so comforting. I love a man who conquered death. That's what Jesus was all about. Death may seem like this dark, scary surprise to us. But, Jesus just looked it right in the face and said, "Enough, you've had your time." There is no fear. Yeah, in this broken world we feel that grief. But our grief is not like the world's grief. We know death's power here is just a farce. O Father. Come quick.

A Meaningful Conversation

He said - All of you
I said - Really?
He said - I mean it
I said - Impossible

He said - Why not?
I said - I've got too much to lose
He said - Really?
I said - Impossible

He said - Let me show you something
I said - Ohh kay
He said - Hold my hand
I said - I'll try

He said - How's that?
I said - That's nice
He said - Still have too much to lose?
I said - I don't think so

He said - My love is too big too deep for you to get
I said - I think I'm starting to see that
He said - I'd like to show you how deep
I said - Please!

He said - Still want to hold onto that junk?
I said - Take it
He said - It won't always be pretty
I said - I know

He said - Follow me

Academia

I wake.
Fall time.
Time for falling back into rhythm.
Breathing. In and Out.
Wake up to a cold, golden sun on flaming leaves.
Shadows slanting on the pavement as I walk.
Keep my eyes looking past those I pass.
Every now and then, my eyes lock with someone.
Awkward. A little.
But, then, I feel a smile jerk at the corners of my mouth. So quickly.
They're surprised. They smile back, surprising themselves too, I think.

I sit. The desk is small, and old, and creaky, but I'm comfortable.
I look out at the long pine branches and then at my teacher.
I wonder if he's always been like this.
If he's ever been young and without jaded eyes and with a heart that was open and soft to You.
I wonder what happened to make his words so heavy with mockery.

I talk. So many people, so little time to talk and listen and hear who is who and how they feel. What they think.
To discuss and discuss.
To discuss men who are 400 by now.
To discuss feelings that are brand new.


All the people here are old and trying to get older
But they were once just babies.
Everyone was once without walls.
Lord, I'm excited for you to make all things new.

But meanwhile
I wake up to the cold autumn morning,
I walk down the street and try to love people with my eyes,
I sit in little desks and pray for teachers,
and I'm learning ten new names.

Bragging on My Ma, and the Rambling that Followed

I've always admired my mom's strength. But, this past year or so has made me so proud of her. See, she has been looking for a teaching job for 2 years, and man, it's been a roller coaster. 30 applications, 9 interviews, and hours of hard work. She'd talk to my family after every disappointment, bouncing thoughts off me, my dad and siblings, like, "Should I even be teaching? What's my calling?" The whole time, though, she kept away from bitterness and despair. She did even more than that. She came to a point where she was ready to give up her dream of having her own class room, and then . . . something amazing happened.
She got her dream job!!!!!!!!
It kind of came at the eleventh hour, and the God of ours has quite the timing. The interesting thing to me is, it wasn't just any old teaching job. This was the job she'd wanted for a really long time at Mckinley, an elementary school that she's wanted to teach at for forever!
I've never had to go through 30 applications and multiple interviews, but I do know about something I call "hope deferred". Actually, Solomon called it "hope deferred". What I mean by that, is dreams that've been in your heart for a long time but haven't happened yet.
You know when you feel something is really right, like it's just MEANT to happen, but it hasn't come to pass yet? Like, I knew that my mom was meant to be a teacher, or how I knew friends of mine were supposed to come to Jesus, or how I was just supposed to work at camp that one summer. It's like waiting for a baby to be born. You know it's going to happen, but it seems like its taking forever.
Paul talked about that too. He said the whole earth groans as though it has labor pains, waiting for the day when everything will be made right, when all of those good "dreams" come to pass.
Another interesting thing I found about my mom's job situation was that it was only when she got to the point where she could give up the job that she GOT the job. My good friend Matt said once that we have to die to our dreams in order for God to do what He wants with them. I think that's true. It's only after I let go of those dreams in my heart, when that doesn't become my life anymore, that I can really enjoy them the way God meant them to be enjoyed.
Like how at Christmas when I was younger, I would hope and hope for a certain present, like one year it was a pair of roller blades. When Christmas finally came and I got the blades, it wasn't like I had imagined for so long. I think it was because I focused so much on that, and that was not something that could really fulfill me, or last. Not that getting roller blades was bad.
What's so cool about God is that He knows every hope in each of His kids' hearts, and He knows that it's only when they come to Him first that those hopes will be fully enjoyed. I've had things I've hoped for happen, and sometimes it was the wrong time, or the wrong thing. Papa knows what's the best for His kids.

Just Say No - It's not really that easy

Has anyone seen "YES MAN"?
I had a sweet experience watching it. How liberating to see a middle-aged man (who always crosses his "t's") break out of his box. It was an encouragement to juice the day of all it has to offer and to remember that life is not about a schedule but about the relationships and experiences that come.
Well, it's been a few months since that movie, and now, I have a little bit of a different view on it. You see, I am (and have been for quite awhile) "YES WOMAN". It is extremely hard for me to say no. There are a few reasons behind this, and they're not the greatest.
While Jim Carrey found thrill, adventure and a cute girl while saying "yes" to everything, I've been finding exhaustion, bags under my eyes, and a headache that's been hanging around for awhlie. I tell you, it is hard work saying yes. Whenever I tell my parents where I'm going lately they give me this little look. You know how parents' looks can speak a thousand words. This look says, "Christen-I-can't-believe-you-said-'yes'-to-another-activity.' This look is usually followed by a concerned comment like, "You are going to burn out."
Why do I say yes to everything? As I said, they're not really the best reasons. The top one is, I don't want to hurt peoples' feelings. Ultimate people pleaser. Yes. Usually, I'm having a convo with someone and I agree to things in the excitemenet of the moment.
Reason number two is that I don't want to miss out on anything (beach trips, movie nights, etc.). I feel like it will be a waste of my time to do nothing and that it is more acceptable to always be somewhere in the evening.
The problem with all these "yeses" is that they can't really be enjoyed if you aren't awake to enjoy them. I truly believe simplicity is undervalued. We live in a land where bigger is better, faster is coveted, and people with busy schedules are applauded for "doing something productive."
But, I think what I'm learning, is that simplicity is sweet. When I'm on the go so much saying yes to every person and event, I crave going to my bed and zonking out. And usually, when I'm that busy being "YES WOMAN", I'm always looking to the next thing that needs to be done. The next check on the list. Yuck. It's like stuffing yourself on a extra large meal of delicious food. Sure, it tastes great, but you feel miserable afterwards.
I don't want to switch to become "NO WOMAN", but there's got to be a happy balance somewhere. "MAYBE WOMAN." Or, "LET ME THINK ABOUT IT WOMAN".
Signing off,
Christen

What a Wretched Man?

I like my life right now. It is different. In some ways emptier. In many ways more full. Remember when I was talking about the pruning that God was taking me through and how He was trimming off the excess stuff. That process is not complete. Haha. What a laugh! That process won't be complete until I see Him face to face. But, you know, that is a comforting thought to me; that followers of Christ don't have to be perfect on the first try.
I used to think , and sometimes still do, that maybe I'm not made of the right cloth to be a true follower of Christ. I screw up so much. And usually, when I think I have it together, I don't. I used to get a little worried about myself. I would look at the descriptions of followers of Christ: selfless, compassionate, willing to sacrifice all for the cross. And then I would look at my own life and see the following: selfish, judgmental, not willing to give up simple, petty things. Of course this discrepancy caused me some discomfort. But, then I came across this passage in Romans and it totally helped me!
Romans 7 has this monologue from Paul. I can just see the guy with his pen, or feather quill (what did they use?), scribbling madly in frustration. Paul goes on this rant talking about how what he wants to do he doesn't do, but what he really doesn't want to do, THAT'S what he does. It's all a little depressing. But, I totally relate. And that gave me so much comfort. If this apostle who claimed to be a lover of Christ could admit those things, maybe I'm not a lost cause.
The next line that Paul says gives me the most comfort of all. Paul says, "What a wretched man I am! Who will save me from this body of ?" And then comes the cou de gras: "Thanks be to Jesus Christ." This Christian thing is not for the perfect, not for the people who are able to be "pruned" in one sitting. It is for the lost causes, the people that have a hard time being perfect and doing what they're supposed to. It's a process, and it's only through HIM that we get anywhere.
I know there are still so many areas of my life that need to be pruned, but I'm so thankful for what Christ is doing in me. For example, a few short weeks ago I was addicted to a few things, and He pulled the plug. These were a few things I'd been hanging onto for awhile! And, He changed me. Also, I used to be much quicker to judge and get offended. But, I keep hearing Him say, "Love bears all things." The older I get, the more I see that relationships should not easily be let go.
Well, I'm going on a road trip Monday to Colorado to visit family and looking forward to that! Should bring a plethora of new insights to share. Goodnight.

Starry Nights and Strawberry Nights

The cardigan is warm on my shoulders
It guards against the chilly edge of the summer night
My eyes are used to the dark now
and I can make out the faces of my dad and brother

My hair is falling over my face in tangled curls
I really need a trim
The upbeat tempo of the guitar sparks my imagination
I feel a little smile playing on my lips

And I think that it is about time
For this summer to come

My books are safely tucked underneath my desk
My pencils, once sharp and ready, are hidden in the drawer
My reading glasses lay on my nightstand
And I am through

I feel the relief in the thought
That the night is young and sleep is deep
I feel comfort in the thought that the weekend is near
Excitement and rest


It's true it's been cloudy
But Oregon June is always like that
And I know that summer is here

I anticipate nights
starry nights
fresh strawberry nights
camp fire nights
ocean nights
LOST nights
late night swim nights
sleeping bag nights
giggling high schooler nights
journaling nights
All of them spent in the dusky orange and pink sky.
All of them enjoyed in the warm, cooling, fragrant evening.
There is nothing like a summer in Oregon.

My Friend with the Pruning Shears

There's this analogy Christ has of a grape vine. He talks about how the branches with lots of leaves have to be pruned off so that the plant will stop putting energy into making leaves and start making fruit. Then this Jesus man talked about how that's like our lives and how we must let God come in and "prune" our lives by cutting off things that take our energy from making real fruit. Now, this fruit that He talks about actually means we are looking more like Jesus.
This past week and a half has been a pruning week, a week where I finally let God, the big gardener of my heart, come in and cut off some of the excess stuff. The branches He cut off were ones I had been wanting to get rid of for a long time anyways, but I had gotten so used to having them, I think I was a little nervous. We are creatures of habit, and comfort, at least I am. I had gotten into habits of comfort with these branches, and have the pruning shears go at them was a little difficult at first. It was quick. One swift move and a few staples that had become part of Christen's life fell to the ground.
I really sensed God say that He has a calling on my life and that these "branches" were getting in the way of me following the call. Then, I got this picture of an athlete with some extra poundage who was having a hard time running; this athlete's run was more like a waddle. And I remembered that verse where the apostle Paul talks about training to run the race we are called to run. I admit, Jesus, I have been avoiding the training, avoiding the pruning, whatever analogy you prefer.
So, sometimes I miss these old habits. They were sort of like old friends. But, then I remember that there is something better in store. Because who wants to eat a bunch of leaves anyways? What you really want is fruit on those branches.

Please Come Home

My mom says you don't really know how much you can love until you are a parent. She says it's the kind of love that hurts you so much. The kind of love that almost scares you because it consumes you. And she says she never knew she could feel so much.

I'm not a mom. Well, I did get the best potential mother award in highschool as a senior, but I digress. I'm not a mom, but I am a sister and a friend, and a youth leader. And I think I have felt a little drop of this kind of love. It is the kind of love that leaves a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach. The kind of love that makes you almost wish you could not feel, because it's so consuming.

This kind of love is what I think could be called God-love. I can't even imagine how God must feel. He is the big dad. The father of generations of children, and He has had to watch for thousands of years as His children break His heart, over and over.

Oh God, how do you stand that?

How can you stand to watch your kids leave your house?

Take their money and run?

They saw how good your love was and said "no thanks"

They felt your awesome touch and said, "You're not real"

And still, You would take them back

In a second, you would open up your door and say, "Finally home"


Being in church for many years means I have seen many people walk away and choose a life without their Dad. Some come back after years away. The prodigals. My heart breaks with this God-love. If MY heart, my small heart, can hurt so much, how must the giant heart of my Father feel?

Please, come home.

A Lesson from Harry Facing Death

So, I've been thinking today about time. About how easy it is to waste, and about what an appropriate use of it is.
Not to be morbid, but I was reading a book the other day where the main character was facing death. Ok, Ok, this main character was Harry Potter, I admit it. But, our character was going to a certain end, and his thoughts along the way were so different from mine. He was thinking about how here he was clinging on to his final moments, appreciating the cool air on his face, the silver of the moon, the smell of pine in the forest, while other peoples' lives would drag on for years and years. And that got me thinking.
I started thinking about how my life drags sometimes. I experience a fun event, a heartfelt conversation with a friend, a great run outside . . . and then I have those moments in between. You know? Those moments where you are just waiting for something to happen. And it drags.
Back to Potter - if I were facing death, though, it would be ironic that some people have lives that will go on and on for a long time, while my own was going to be cut short. I probably would kick myself for those times where I was just waiting for something to happen.
I HATE when people say live each day like it's you last. Maybe "hate" is too strong of a word. But, here is why: I don't like how cliche it has become. I don't like the thought of spending a day knowing I was going to die the next day (I think it would get me all anxious and worried about making the most of the opportunity). Those are the two main reasons.
So, I'm not into living like I am dying. BUT, I do think taking little Potter's lesson into consideration is a good idea. People say life is so short. But, when you are 21 and trying to get through school, sometimes life just feels loooong. My parents say they look in the mirror and can't believe that the reflection is really theirs. They can't believe time has gone by so fast.
I think as young people, we feel invincible, and as though we will be young forever and have a very long time to do the important things that need to be done. Now, I'm not saying I'm afraid of a life cut short, but what I AM saying is I don't want to be waiting for something to happen, enjoy the event, and then go back to waiting. Time, time, time. It can be a treasure or a curse.

impulses

A few weeks ago I tried a little fast. I went the day without food and started to do a week without facebook, things that are normal elements of my daily regimen. At first it was tough. My stomach would rumble. I would be bored and wanted to get online. And these desires would rise up inside of me. Strong impulses. But I said no. And man it felt good. It felt free.
Now I'm not saying food is a bad thing or even that facebook is a bad thing. Without food I would die, and without facebook, well I wouldn't die (I could probably live without that). But, what I am saying, is that I had a wake up call to how much I am driven by my impulses, and how different the world is when I don't just live off of them. Going from pleasure to pleasure can satisfy temporarily, and that strong impulse fades when I obey it, but then it just comes back stronger the next time. It is as though I am a slave to my desires. But, that fast was so purifying, I don't remember feeling that free for a long time.
I am a pretty emotional person. And I've never thought of that as a bad thing. Emotions can be good. Trusting my gut feeling has guided me through many a biology exam and has even guided me spiritually. I believe God speaks through our emotions and desires. But, I think emotions can only be trusted and listened to so much. And that is the lesson I am learning. It is hard for me to realize that maybe, even if I feel very strongly about something, it is not right. For example, sometimes I just feel it is so right to just relax and waste my time on the computer or even reading my "junk food" books. My impulse, my emotions, speak to me so strongly about it, and so I usually give in thinking, "This is just what I need right now."
I was convicted a few days ago by something. My emotions are not the bottom line. God gave me this verse from the Israelite prophet Isaiah,
"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my thoughts higher than your thoughts and my ways higher than your ways" -God (Isaiah 55:9)
I guess it was pretty prideful of me to think that my emotions were always right. But that's how I was acting.
So, I did that fasting thing. And it was like a revelation. Because when I stopped just doing whatever my emotions told me to, it was like tapping into something bigger. I realized following my own desires can just keep me on this hamster wheel. I get up in the morning, I feel like skipping my quiet time, so I do that. I go through my day, I feel like ignoring people, so I do. And then the cycle repeats.
It is only by tapping into the thought of this higher power, these higher emotions, this Jesus man, that I can be free.
Paul said we were once a slave to our desires . . . but I think even being Christians, we still have to ask God to remove those shackles. Desire, emotions can be a great gift from God, but when they become the bottom line, they turn into a cage.
I am only free when I am not controlled by what I want.

The Choice You Made - A Christmas Poem

B looy, b loody
Your eye is bruised
One is swollen shut

Broken, breaking
Your feet now stumble
You are struggling hard

Shamed, so shameful
You are blamed
and everyone is laughing

Do you remember back?
Before this moment . . .
back when it was simple?

Do you remember?
Being little?
Being a kid?

Do you remember saying yes?
Do you regret the choice you made?

Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why would you
YOU
of all people

Choose to suffer
And now you look at me
With such intensity

You are b loody, broken, shamed
And yet you look at me and whisper

"It is worth it."

And that is the meaning of Christmas

The World is Quiet

The world is quiet.
The only sound
is the muted crunch
of boots on snow.

The sky is soft.
The clouds are dusky,
and shaded soft purple,
and the moon is the only light.

The moon is pale.
Its silver light
washes over the snow banks
with shadows and silver.

The world is quiet.
A breeze shivers
through the pine needles
and sends flakes of snow swirling in the air.

The world is quiet.
The only sound is my breath going in and out,
and the only sight is my footprint
on the blanket of subtly sparkling white.


The world is quiet

The Window (inspired by Yann Tiersen's song "Summer 78")

Her fingers stroke the keys lovingly. As though it is an old friend she has not seen for years. She sits on the bench. The reflection of her fingers shines in the glossy black mahogany. So many years gone. Every mistake, every regret, every pain, seems to slip out of her mind as she pushes down on the keys. Notes. Up and down, back and forth, her fingers start to walk, to run. It is as though they are remembering everything again. She is remembering everything again.

She leans in, pressing the keys gently now, it is soft, intimate, heartbreakingly tender. Now harder, faster, the excitement is swelling. She feels her chest move up and down with the breath. Inhaling, exhaling. Everything is coming back. Has it been so long? The piano gives back whatever she puts into it. Truly, like an old friend, it sings its song for her. It remembers her.

The brain that failed her so often is now working. Her brain that forgot whether she had eaten or not, forgot who her children were. This frustrating, heartbreaking brain, is now alive again. Her cheeks felt wet. Days, years, of frustration start to melt away. It didn't matter that she forgot how old she was and thought it was the 50s. It didn't matter that she couldn't remember her own phone number. Now, all that is here is the piano.

Her eyes start to blur with tears. She is remembering. Like snow melting after an eternal winter. Like the animals awaking from hibernation. Her heart starts to come alive again. For the first time in a long time, she feels like herself. Sobs tear from her. She is holding onto this feeling. She doesn't want to let it go and return to the way things were. She has to stay in this light. Has to keep from falling asleep inside. Had to stop the ice from returning and closing over everything. From letting that beast, alzheimers, steal everything. She doesn't know how long she has before her mind slips again.

This is her window in time. And the piano is her medium.

L i t t l e G i r l

Cold and Dirty,
Tired and Aching.
When will we find rest?

A Heavy Load,
A Weighty Burden
One that she still loves.

Afraid

The Future tilts
On a knife's edge
Which way will it fall?

To the left
and there is ridicule
and exile

To the right
and there is t error
and loneliness

And Yet

He said, Don't Fear
He said, Tidings of Joy
He said, Immanuel

She can't see
the next step
in front of her

He isn't sure
whether he imagined
or dreamed it

They travel like two children
Following a voice
Of one crying in the desert


Pain
Pain
All She Feels Is Pain

And Then

The Face
Small, Vulnerable, Wrinkled
Little Face

Her Boy
Her tiny, weak
boy

The Fear melts
There is only one thing now
No Ache, No Pain, Nothing

But the swelling,
bursting,
throbbing love for the baby before her

Pain Gave Way to Life