Interrupted passage of light,
Vexing darkness,
Luster lost.
Obscure in our profound musings,
No longer shining as we should.
Covering our windows and doors,
Blocking out the Light.
Protecting inner workings
From getting out,
And outer influences
From getting In.
Gathering around our
Tightly woven garments of belief,
In order to…
For order’s sake.
Obtuse weapons bruising no enemy,
But instead each other,
As we seek to conceal
The wounds we long
to reveal,
And mend.
Bearing scars of
Emotional battle,
Presenting as intellect
Misunderstood.
Never to find healing
In this kind of display.
Open the windows,
Stretch wide the doors,
as Brilliance penetrates
the darkest of surfaces,
the blackest of hearts,
For Love’s sake, in truth.
Protective soul conceptions,
welling up and spilling out
in waves of refreshed cleansing.
We are transparent again,
And Light shines through.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
The Talent Show
We attended the elementary school talent show last night. Max was in a dance number with two of his friends. They danced to the song "Fireflies" under black lights with cool glow-in-the-dark painted shirts. It was the third time I had seen the entire show this week. I'm at a loss of what exactly to say about it. If you've been to an elementary school talent show before, you understand my lack of words to describe it. If you've never been, it's something you should experience at least once. Just be sure you know at least one kid who's in the show. You'll understand once you're there.
The acts ranged from kids playing piano pieces to numerous dance numbers to solos of Celine Dion classics. I didn't realize kids in the 21st century listened to Celine Dion, but they still do. (Nothing like resurrecting Titanic, the movie that won't stay dead.) There was even a drum and piano duet. They played the music for the game Tetris. You may not be able to recall the music in your mind but if you heard it, you'd know it right away. Talk about creative! Some kids did skits while others played violins. There was a host of young talent to be experienced, and I got to experience it not once, not twice, but three times - this week. I wish I was the doting, sentimental type who just adores such displays by children, I really do. But I'm not, so I'll just keep some of my comments to myself. Okay, most of my comments...
I will tell you that I was extremely impressed by the courage many of these kids had to get out in front of their classmates and perform. I was supposed to sing "Against All Odds" in the elementary school talent show when I was in 1st or 3rd grade (I can't remember) and I totally chickened out. I made up a sore throat and said I couldn't do it the morning of the show. I was too afraid to do it and I knew if I tried I'd choke. Story of my life. So I was taken by the bravado many of the children had in their talents. I was also very encouraged by the enthusiastic responses given by the audience of peers to each act, regardless of it's merit. I have seen elementary aged children be severe in their actions and reactions at times, but this was not one of those times. They embraced their classmates and celebrated their efforts, even the ones that were not necessarily worthy of celebration.
So way to go, kids, for being brave enough to put yourselves out there. And bravo to the audience for encouraging them. Hopefully we can help shape and mold their "talents", and like the audience at the show, give them the encouragement they need to keep stepping out on the stage.
The acts ranged from kids playing piano pieces to numerous dance numbers to solos of Celine Dion classics. I didn't realize kids in the 21st century listened to Celine Dion, but they still do. (Nothing like resurrecting Titanic, the movie that won't stay dead.) There was even a drum and piano duet. They played the music for the game Tetris. You may not be able to recall the music in your mind but if you heard it, you'd know it right away. Talk about creative! Some kids did skits while others played violins. There was a host of young talent to be experienced, and I got to experience it not once, not twice, but three times - this week. I wish I was the doting, sentimental type who just adores such displays by children, I really do. But I'm not, so I'll just keep some of my comments to myself. Okay, most of my comments...
I will tell you that I was extremely impressed by the courage many of these kids had to get out in front of their classmates and perform. I was supposed to sing "Against All Odds" in the elementary school talent show when I was in 1st or 3rd grade (I can't remember) and I totally chickened out. I made up a sore throat and said I couldn't do it the morning of the show. I was too afraid to do it and I knew if I tried I'd choke. Story of my life. So I was taken by the bravado many of the children had in their talents. I was also very encouraged by the enthusiastic responses given by the audience of peers to each act, regardless of it's merit. I have seen elementary aged children be severe in their actions and reactions at times, but this was not one of those times. They embraced their classmates and celebrated their efforts, even the ones that were not necessarily worthy of celebration.
So way to go, kids, for being brave enough to put yourselves out there. And bravo to the audience for encouraging them. Hopefully we can help shape and mold their "talents", and like the audience at the show, give them the encouragement they need to keep stepping out on the stage.
Monday, March 21, 2011
A Gray Morning in March
The gray of the sky
Settles in, like a blanket
Of cold, wet wool.
It crept into my dreams
Last night,
Lacing them with the sadness
This kind of gray
Can bring.
Waking too early, unable to return,
Unwilling to return
To the dreams that persisted.
Receiving instead the
Black of night, that became the
Gray, of this morning.
Gray skies make a dull backdrop
For bare trees.
Branches and limbs jutting out and up
Into the gray, looking for blue.
Their leafless arms reach high,
Waiting to be restored, to be
Renewed in the warmth
Of spring.
I wait, too.
Funny how those branches, exposed,
resemble my system, enclosed.
I curl down and in,
Wanting to return to sleep,
But I can hear the birds singing,
And I know that even though
The gray persists today,
Blue is just a few dreams,
And mornings,
Away.
Settles in, like a blanket
Of cold, wet wool.
It crept into my dreams
Last night,
Lacing them with the sadness
This kind of gray
Can bring.
Waking too early, unable to return,
Unwilling to return
To the dreams that persisted.
Receiving instead the
Black of night, that became the
Gray, of this morning.
Gray skies make a dull backdrop
For bare trees.
Branches and limbs jutting out and up
Into the gray, looking for blue.
Their leafless arms reach high,
Waiting to be restored, to be
Renewed in the warmth
Of spring.
I wait, too.
Funny how those branches, exposed,
resemble my system, enclosed.
I curl down and in,
Wanting to return to sleep,
But I can hear the birds singing,
And I know that even though
The gray persists today,
Blue is just a few dreams,
And mornings,
Away.
Friday, March 18, 2011
A Picture of Friendship
We bought a new house last summer. June will mark the one year anniversary of our living in this new house. When I say “new” what I really mean is new to us, as the house was built in 1965 and still looks very much like it belongs in the 60’s. Sadly enough for the neighbors (who are wonderful, by the way), we have spent the past year working to bring the inside of the house into the 21st century. This means the outside is still shining like the 1965 star it is. While I’m sure it was a beautiful home in 1965, it is not very attractive in 2011, and we have plans to reinvent the exterior at some point. I spend most of my time inside the house, which is why we worked on it first. Sorry, Valley Court neighbors.
Part of the landscaping that existed was a bed of white rocks all along the front of the house. One of my friends (you know who you are) immediately called the rock feature out as one that significantly dates the exterior, and explained that was an easy fix. Simply remove the rocks, she said. Simple enough, coming from someone who really truly enjoys gardening and landscaping and all that yard work I really truly despise. Part of the joy I found in renting was we didn’t have to do much yard work at all. I might have rented the rest of my life based on that one fact, but Bill delights in yard work so I conceded and we bought a house. I still despise any type of yard work. (Don’t even get me started on Bill’s need to have all the acorns picked up in the fall. While shoveling snow is my part time job in the winter, acorn clean-up is my full time job in the fall. Did I mention I despise yard work? Just checking.)
Back to the rocks. As the weather has been progressively getting nicer, I was able to spend a bit of time sitting in the corner of my front porch soaking up the spring sun. And that’s when I looked over and saw what’s left of the rocks. I say what’s left because I did finally get around to removing some of them last summer, at the end of the summer, or really in the fall if I remember correctly (when I wasn’t picking up acorns, which wasn’t very often, which is probably why I didn’t finish the job). The reason I spent the entire summer looking at the rocks and not moving them until the fall is because I just couldn’t bring myself to do the job. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t. At least not until my friend (not the same one who gave the original advice to move them) came over and said, “I’ll help you move your rocks.” It was like the dark skies separated and the light broke through my white rock cloud! A savior had emerged, willing to help me with my utterly overwhelming task. These are the moments in life when I stop and realize that for all the ways I believe myself to be highly competent and capable, I really am just a sloppy mess who needs people tremendously. My friend knew it, and she didn’t mention it, she just offered to help me with the task that seemed impossible to me. Don’t ask me why moving the rocks seemed impossible, it just did. So the next day she came over, dressed in her best yard work attire (another one who loves getting her hands in the soil and cultivating the ground and all that unappealing dirty stuff), and we got to work. Suddenly this task was not impossible anymore. I could move the rocks because my friend was there to help me. I must tell you it was really hard work. We had to shovel the rocks into a wheelbarrow and wheel them down to another neighbor’s driveway. (We weren’t secretly ditching them on the unsuspecting neighbors – they really did want them.) We spent hours moving these stupid rocks and only dealt with half of them, but we got the job started, which was more than I had been able to do myself.
I sat on my porch considering the fact that while I still had rocks to move, the ones that were indeed gone were gone because my friend saw that I had a need – someone to help me move the rocks – and she stepped in to help. Friendship is seeing where people need help, whether it seems reasonable to need the help or not, and coming alongside to provide it. Friendship is carrying loads of rocks in the heat of the afternoon just because you know your friend needs you. Friendship is seeing where your friends are lacking and filling in the gaps with your gifts, your efforts, or maybe even just your time. I have other friends who might never come over and haul rocks with me, but they will come over and haul other burdens. And I have still others who will tell me what needs to go, whether it be concerning landscaping or Sherriscaping. These tasks don't always get completed in a timely manner, but these friends don't base their involvment on that fact. Sometimes I just need help in getting the process started. These are true friends and I don't know where I'd be without them. Probably laying beneath pile of rocks somewhere, unable to move myself or the rocks!
Thanks for each one of you that help me carry my rocks in this life. You are a beautiful picture of friendship.
Part of the landscaping that existed was a bed of white rocks all along the front of the house. One of my friends (you know who you are) immediately called the rock feature out as one that significantly dates the exterior, and explained that was an easy fix. Simply remove the rocks, she said. Simple enough, coming from someone who really truly enjoys gardening and landscaping and all that yard work I really truly despise. Part of the joy I found in renting was we didn’t have to do much yard work at all. I might have rented the rest of my life based on that one fact, but Bill delights in yard work so I conceded and we bought a house. I still despise any type of yard work. (Don’t even get me started on Bill’s need to have all the acorns picked up in the fall. While shoveling snow is my part time job in the winter, acorn clean-up is my full time job in the fall. Did I mention I despise yard work? Just checking.)
Back to the rocks. As the weather has been progressively getting nicer, I was able to spend a bit of time sitting in the corner of my front porch soaking up the spring sun. And that’s when I looked over and saw what’s left of the rocks. I say what’s left because I did finally get around to removing some of them last summer, at the end of the summer, or really in the fall if I remember correctly (when I wasn’t picking up acorns, which wasn’t very often, which is probably why I didn’t finish the job). The reason I spent the entire summer looking at the rocks and not moving them until the fall is because I just couldn’t bring myself to do the job. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t. At least not until my friend (not the same one who gave the original advice to move them) came over and said, “I’ll help you move your rocks.” It was like the dark skies separated and the light broke through my white rock cloud! A savior had emerged, willing to help me with my utterly overwhelming task. These are the moments in life when I stop and realize that for all the ways I believe myself to be highly competent and capable, I really am just a sloppy mess who needs people tremendously. My friend knew it, and she didn’t mention it, she just offered to help me with the task that seemed impossible to me. Don’t ask me why moving the rocks seemed impossible, it just did. So the next day she came over, dressed in her best yard work attire (another one who loves getting her hands in the soil and cultivating the ground and all that unappealing dirty stuff), and we got to work. Suddenly this task was not impossible anymore. I could move the rocks because my friend was there to help me. I must tell you it was really hard work. We had to shovel the rocks into a wheelbarrow and wheel them down to another neighbor’s driveway. (We weren’t secretly ditching them on the unsuspecting neighbors – they really did want them.) We spent hours moving these stupid rocks and only dealt with half of them, but we got the job started, which was more than I had been able to do myself.
I sat on my porch considering the fact that while I still had rocks to move, the ones that were indeed gone were gone because my friend saw that I had a need – someone to help me move the rocks – and she stepped in to help. Friendship is seeing where people need help, whether it seems reasonable to need the help or not, and coming alongside to provide it. Friendship is carrying loads of rocks in the heat of the afternoon just because you know your friend needs you. Friendship is seeing where your friends are lacking and filling in the gaps with your gifts, your efforts, or maybe even just your time. I have other friends who might never come over and haul rocks with me, but they will come over and haul other burdens. And I have still others who will tell me what needs to go, whether it be concerning landscaping or Sherriscaping. These tasks don't always get completed in a timely manner, but these friends don't base their involvment on that fact. Sometimes I just need help in getting the process started. These are true friends and I don't know where I'd be without them. Probably laying beneath pile of rocks somewhere, unable to move myself or the rocks!
Thanks for each one of you that help me carry my rocks in this life. You are a beautiful picture of friendship.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Steps
So I'm having a sort of mental block lately, which is why I haven't posted anything for several days. I have a few poems hanging around but am not sure about whether or not to post them. I guess what I'm experiencing is some loss of purpose - questioning why I'm doing this in the first place. I still have ideas that come and go, but lately none of them seem worth the effort to write them out. I go through these moments of doubt, and based on my conversations with other people, I'm not alone. Trying to listen to the right voice, the one that encourages rather than discourages, the one that speaks truth to my spirit, is a more difficult task on some days. Why is that? What is different about one day from the next? In the midst of these doubt-filled moments, I have a very hard time distinguishing what exactly is the cause, and it frankly becomes too much work to figure it out, so I don't. Which is sort of where I am today, except I'm posting this entry, which I guess means I'm still moving, at least a little. Some days it's all I can do to keep up with the thoughts and ideas that are racing through my head and onto the page. My mental and emotional stride is on course and I'm running. I feel like everything I put out is good, even great if I'm having an exceptional day. Other days, like today, all I can hope for is to push past the whispers of uncertainty and take a step. On these days, nothing I produce seems worth much and I come very close to ditching it all. Lately the spurring voice inside has been repeating, "Just keep going. One foot in front of the other. Take the next step."
Okay, here's my step for today.
Maybe there's someone else out there experiencing the same hesitation of stride. No need to run today - just take the next step.
I don't say all this so you will encourage me - I'm hoping to encourage you. Even when the step is unclear, even when the weight of moving seems impossible, even when you just want to lay down and bury yourself in the sand, take the next step. Whatever that looks like for you, do it. And if you absolutely can't move today, know that there will be another chance for you to step out tomorrow.
On the brighter side, spring is almost here! The sun is shining and while I still have snow covering a good portion of my yard, the grass is breaking through all around. I can actually feel the warmth from the sun, unlike in the dead of winter when the sun shines but gives off little heat. This is a very good thing to me. It makes me want to walk again, and that means more steps.
Okay, here's my step for today.
Maybe there's someone else out there experiencing the same hesitation of stride. No need to run today - just take the next step.
I don't say all this so you will encourage me - I'm hoping to encourage you. Even when the step is unclear, even when the weight of moving seems impossible, even when you just want to lay down and bury yourself in the sand, take the next step. Whatever that looks like for you, do it. And if you absolutely can't move today, know that there will be another chance for you to step out tomorrow.
On the brighter side, spring is almost here! The sun is shining and while I still have snow covering a good portion of my yard, the grass is breaking through all around. I can actually feel the warmth from the sun, unlike in the dead of winter when the sun shines but gives off little heat. This is a very good thing to me. It makes me want to walk again, and that means more steps.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Listening
I come to You in solitude,
Wanting strength of spirit
to lift me up,
While weakness of soul
bends me down.
Whispers surround;
a cacophony of the superfluous,
a dissonant symphony of the superficial,
Disguised as the melodic essential,
Press on my mind.
Pushing in on the confines of thought,
but not for freedom’s sake;
Wanting to make smaller
the mental isolation,
the spiritual desolation,
That seeks to captivate.
These voices try to cover You,
try to drown You out,
In their soft and unfocused melee.
Presenting as friends to assist,
Really foes disguised in the
busiest of attire.
I strain to see through
The tight threads of their garments,
to the true essence of thief.
I push back, waving away this murmur which seeks
To settle in like a fine mist of fog
around me,
to lull me back to sleep.
Instead lay my head close and low,
Listen for the quiet stillness
Where Your voice can be heard,
And wait for You,
To raise me up again.
Wanting strength of spirit
to lift me up,
While weakness of soul
bends me down.
Whispers surround;
a cacophony of the superfluous,
a dissonant symphony of the superficial,
Disguised as the melodic essential,
Press on my mind.
Pushing in on the confines of thought,
but not for freedom’s sake;
Wanting to make smaller
the mental isolation,
the spiritual desolation,
That seeks to captivate.
These voices try to cover You,
try to drown You out,
In their soft and unfocused melee.
Presenting as friends to assist,
Really foes disguised in the
busiest of attire.
I strain to see through
The tight threads of their garments,
to the true essence of thief.
I push back, waving away this murmur which seeks
To settle in like a fine mist of fog
around me,
to lull me back to sleep.
Instead lay my head close and low,
Listen for the quiet stillness
Where Your voice can be heard,
And wait for You,
To raise me up again.
Monday, March 7, 2011
My Neck
I'm glad God gave me a neck that can bend. It allows me to adjust the position of my head as needed.
When going around a corner in my car, my head rotates easily on my neck so I can move with the corner, on the inside as well as out.
When I am backing up and need to see what's behind me, my neck turns my head so I can get a better idea of what's back there. It also stops me from seeing everything, back there.
How disoriented I would be if my neck stayed stationary while the rest of me made a u-turn. My perspective might not be that of my turning, but rather of everything else turning around me.
My neck is able to bend my head down, both for rest and repentance, whichever is needed. My head is heavy at times so I'm grateful I have a strong neck with which to hold it up, and to put it down, when necessary.
Yes, I'm glad God gave me a neck that can bend. I should practice bending it more so as to not let stiffness set in.
When going around a corner in my car, my head rotates easily on my neck so I can move with the corner, on the inside as well as out.
When I am backing up and need to see what's behind me, my neck turns my head so I can get a better idea of what's back there. It also stops me from seeing everything, back there.
How disoriented I would be if my neck stayed stationary while the rest of me made a u-turn. My perspective might not be that of my turning, but rather of everything else turning around me.
My neck is able to bend my head down, both for rest and repentance, whichever is needed. My head is heavy at times so I'm grateful I have a strong neck with which to hold it up, and to put it down, when necessary.
Yes, I'm glad God gave me a neck that can bend. I should practice bending it more so as to not let stiffness set in.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Trains and Hearts
I wrote a song about a month or so ago. It’s about a train and my heart. No, it’s not a country song. It’s actually got a little Irish feel to it, most likely due to my continuous listening to Mumford & Sons (thank you very much, Shelby). Side note: my favorite song on their Sigh No More album is “Roll Away Your Stone”, in case you wanted to have a listen. But I was telling you about my song. So the idea behind it is there is the sound of this train going somewhere and it represents my hopes and dreams, whatever my hopes and dreams are, and their going away without me.
Another side note, for reference sake: There is a train track that runs right through the center of my hometown and Amtrak trains go speeding by several times a day. Ever since I was a little girl, I saw those trains whizzing through and longed to be on them. I knew they were headed for somewhere else other than the tiny town I lived in and I wanted to go anywhere else other than that tiny town. Many of them went to Philadelphia, a city that was very close but seemed too far away. The city always held an air of anticipation and excitement for me. People were living and breathing and experiencing life in the city. At any time of the day or night, activity was taking place and that was thrilling to me. Small town life was so mundane and boring. I wanted to be where the action was, and that was at the center of the city. So the trains went by, racing toward the epicenter of life and culture and passion, and I longed to be a passenger. But they didn’t stop in Christiana.
Back to the song. The end line of each verse is “Oh heart, won’t you please let me be?” I was rehearsing it in my head, trying to get a feel for a good tempo, what instruments could work in it, and other musical issues. I was singing it in the shower and instead of saying “Oh heart”, I kept saying “Oh God”. When I was writing it I almost made the last line say God instead of heart, but there was a little fear inside about writing that, so I left it “heart”. I’m not afraid God is going to smite me or something for telling Him to leave me alone; I think He has heard that from me before and I’m still here. What scared me was the thought, what if He does let me be?
What’s more interesting to me is that I apparently use God and my heart interchangeably in this context. A heart can represent lots of ideas. It’s a life-giving organ in the literal sense. It’s also what we’re told God wants, along with our mind, soul, and strength. I’ve been told since I was a child it’s what I give to Jesus to receive His gift of life (both here and later). So if I’m withholding, or ignoring, some part of my heart, is there some aspect of life being withheld from me? I know I’ve got eternal life – I’m not worried about that. I’m worried that if I keep parts of my heart subdued that God is trying to free, am I missing out on life He wants to give here and now? “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” I realize this does not mean material wealth and prosperity – those were never priorities for Jesus - but I do believe it refers to both eternal life as well as life today, tomorrow, and every day there is still breath in my body. What if I’m missing out on some of that life because I’m afraid?
I’m going to leave the song the way it is, with the word “heart” where it is. Hopefully every time I sing it, though, I’ll be reminded of the life I just might be missing when I tell my heart to shut up.
Another side note, for reference sake: There is a train track that runs right through the center of my hometown and Amtrak trains go speeding by several times a day. Ever since I was a little girl, I saw those trains whizzing through and longed to be on them. I knew they were headed for somewhere else other than the tiny town I lived in and I wanted to go anywhere else other than that tiny town. Many of them went to Philadelphia, a city that was very close but seemed too far away. The city always held an air of anticipation and excitement for me. People were living and breathing and experiencing life in the city. At any time of the day or night, activity was taking place and that was thrilling to me. Small town life was so mundane and boring. I wanted to be where the action was, and that was at the center of the city. So the trains went by, racing toward the epicenter of life and culture and passion, and I longed to be a passenger. But they didn’t stop in Christiana.
Back to the song. The end line of each verse is “Oh heart, won’t you please let me be?” I was rehearsing it in my head, trying to get a feel for a good tempo, what instruments could work in it, and other musical issues. I was singing it in the shower and instead of saying “Oh heart”, I kept saying “Oh God”. When I was writing it I almost made the last line say God instead of heart, but there was a little fear inside about writing that, so I left it “heart”. I’m not afraid God is going to smite me or something for telling Him to leave me alone; I think He has heard that from me before and I’m still here. What scared me was the thought, what if He does let me be?
What’s more interesting to me is that I apparently use God and my heart interchangeably in this context. A heart can represent lots of ideas. It’s a life-giving organ in the literal sense. It’s also what we’re told God wants, along with our mind, soul, and strength. I’ve been told since I was a child it’s what I give to Jesus to receive His gift of life (both here and later). So if I’m withholding, or ignoring, some part of my heart, is there some aspect of life being withheld from me? I know I’ve got eternal life – I’m not worried about that. I’m worried that if I keep parts of my heart subdued that God is trying to free, am I missing out on life He wants to give here and now? “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” I realize this does not mean material wealth and prosperity – those were never priorities for Jesus - but I do believe it refers to both eternal life as well as life today, tomorrow, and every day there is still breath in my body. What if I’m missing out on some of that life because I’m afraid?
I’m going to leave the song the way it is, with the word “heart” where it is. Hopefully every time I sing it, though, I’ll be reminded of the life I just might be missing when I tell my heart to shut up.
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