Sandy's words.

Honest Sails

2012-01-30T08:31:00.005-08:00

"How are you doing?"

Do I answer in cliches, turn it back on the asker, stuff-masque, and slap the smile on?...or do I look into their eyes and honestly come clean...? Will they see my ocean eyes deep and sore, or do I darken them with pencils and paint on a color to keep them from really looking into their depths?

but what would be my response, and is it appropriate? Or is it something that I mull over again and cross-examine because i know the heart to be weak, and to be full of deceit, and are these but fleeting emotions, the woman's battle to stay sane and not be a wave despite whatever may be surging in her chest and throat, and I feel the grave because more dreams die and I can't lie, and I can't pretend it's okay...it's not. It's my heart made new and the a sudden crash of the steel storms and the glass heart shatters and I sit in disarray. A whirlpool in my heart starts and I fight the initial tendency to despair...ps..psalm..psalm 27:13...and will I swim to the shore?

So I answer in a crooked smile and say "Oh you know...how are you?" And if you really want to know then you can ram down my door and ask me to my face, but I may say nothing and I may just claim the ocean of grace because the words that might escape could be cruel and betray me later, or send me charting off course and I'd rather hope that the FATHER holds my writhing and fisted up hands. I'd rather let the rocking of his rhythm be what calms the sea of my hearts fits.

I am the leper today, dodge me again and turn your lips into a snare while I speak, and all the while I struggle to still and struggle to trust that His hands are Love and that His silence is purposed, and I am not a walking disease - the castaway or the cursed sailor with no fetter. And all I can give is these broken dreams and small hands that feel defeated and sore from clasping on to heavenly dreams, and sails that I supposed would be full of driving winds, and yet I am shipwrecked today and feeling out of place again...so No, I must do my best, to only recall CREATOR above creation, on the wind it whispered over me and I still have pieces of flesh to daily surrender, results from the fall.

So you may say good Christian- where is your faith? But would you dare judge me when all my complaints are to the wind anyways? and I know a thing or to of divorce- so I divorce all my expectations and come sighing and heaving my heavy chest of hurt, regrets, dreams and justice, because who am I...but a grain of sand in these no man lands and yet You pulled me forth and said, "Beloved, lean into Me because I will give you peace."

So this course I will still navigate, and my ocean eyes will enlarge with every study of His Holy ways, for who can mend what is broken? and who else can restore what has been disfigured? and who will fight for what is right? and who will see me through the years? and who can call me out darkness and tell me I am now a Light? who but only the Master...and only He holds all things with ease.

Mademoiselle Sandrine

2012-01-26T07:47:00.005-08:00

I can laugh.

I can sing, be it off key, always to fast, baby this is my heartbeat.

I can dance, and it won't be with anyone and it won't be in steps of two, but it's all in my walk, it's in these hips and dips and I dance alone because I can't stop to see the people around me if they're keeping the ...

beat. Beat your drums and I'll throw down whatever it is that I hear and like with hands clapping loud and my lips still in that curve.

I can cry.

I can lament, in forms of pros or poems, always fluid it flows, baby this is my blood.

I can write, and it won't be with anyone and it won't be in duets and monologues, but it's all my story, it's in these veins and eyes and I write alone because I can't stop to hear the people around me and if they're keeping the...

flow. Flow your words and I'll throw up whatever it is that I see and know with my pen slapping loud and my lips still in that smirk.

I can recall.

I can wait, for the longest of earnest desires, always a bit homesick, baby this is my future.

I can still, and it won't be with anyone and it won't be in the crowds and cramps, but it's all my peace, it's in these hands and ribs and I still alone because I can't stop to touch the people around me if they're keeping the...

pace. Pace your self and I'll throw in whatever it is that I feel and command with my flesh stripping loud and my lips still in that compress.

...because it was he, because it was I.

2012-01-20T19:44:00.001-08:00

"Si on me presse de dire pourquoy je l'aymois, je sens que cela ne se peut exprimer, qu'en respondant: Par ce que c'estoit luy; par ce que c'estoit moy."-Michel de Montaigne

a nap in Grace, and another broken heart...

2012-01-16T14:39:00.002-08:00

"The LORD is near the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit." psalm 34.18

"He heals the brokenhearted And binds up their wounds." psalm 147.3

AND

"...Do not fret; it leads only to evildoing." psalm 37.8

Lies, we believe so many lies. We believe we have a right to be angry and heard by God. We think we are owed answers...as I wrapped up the study of Job, I ached as God responds- as God turns the questions on Job and humbles his disgruntled attitude and the pride that swelled in his heart as he felt he deserved justification, that he had right to God's response and proof that he hadn't sinned...and he didn't- his friends were wrong, but God still owed Job no answers for Jobs state, He swiftly in one response put Job in his place...
am I Job? Did I dare let my eyes swerve upward to some dusty corner in my room and rage my fist to the empty sky, did I really have any reason to shake and yell at Him-like a raging and defiant child blinded with anger from circumstances- "WHY!?- are YOU HAPPY!??"

and the ache didn't leave when I tried to cry and reason with Him, because He listened but He owed me nothing. So I sat in my sores and my pain, and in my unfortunate events and moped and sulked and tried to self-soothe, but what good is that? And unlike Job, I had sinned some of the time, and unlike Job I DID turn to worthless things, and unlike Job my friends spoke truth, but I traded them for the tickling things that ear wants to hear, and my eyes never did perceive the Holy truths.

more of this and some of that...

Lies, we still consume all those lies. We believe we have no hope and we collapse as life proceeds to weigh down on us. We think we deserve to live in pain, always broken-never new. I ached as I started on Abram in Genesis and watch as God turns to him and blesses him beyond what he can fathom- as God weaves His intricate plan for all men and every nation to be reconciled and that he uses vessels like a broken lying man's faith, but faith nonetheless. The lie I believe is that I won't be blessed, that I won't heal and mend and always have to wander, restless, weary, when God? when...and my faith is small, or not even there.

am I not already blessed? Did I not remember that I was called Beloved by the Lord while I still resisted His pursuit for fear of the unknown, for fear of never being good enough? And I never was good enough, and I never was asked to be good, (THANK GOD!), I was just asked to be me, and I layered under the sheets in my room and wept silently into His heart, and stopped yelling into corners of dim lit rooms and started accepting that it can hurt and I can still choose...Choose the Lord. Choose this pain.

So shaking off the slumber of the afternoon and the bruises of the uncertainty, I make my way across the WORDS that are alive and I find the strength to bear my soul to the Creator who remains silent and yet I trust it's for good reason, and I don't have to know just now. I don't ever have to have reasons for any of this life, because I have all these WORDS of promise that one day I will be whole, I will be home, and my heart will no longer sway to and fro.

Lies, divorce them. Leave the lies you live, the lies that weave through your membrane that you are better, that you are nothing, that you are alone, that you have to be good, that you have it figured out, that you are god, that god is dead, that we are forgotten, that we are merely alive and then dead and that is all. Lies.

I am only fully alive when I am fully aware of Christ in me, for me, covering me...now THAT'S my life, and I keep clutching the WORDS, white knuckles on His breathe as it breathes life into me- the corpse, the Sandy girl, the desert flower who slightly withered when she wandered.

The unexpected blessing...

2012-01-06T08:32:00.003-08:00

The unexpected friendship and laughter that ruled my heart when I was filled with skepticism, my voice was an eternal sigh that rapped like a leaky faucet...dripping down uncertainties and forming pools of lies in my heavy heart.

Oh Jesus, that unexpected Messiah who silenced my doubts and reminded me of our similarities, or showed me the beauty in embracing and exploring the differences and that I can live this life for all to see.

The unexpected words that flowed freely from my lips when I felt ill prepared and hadn't planned on being the messenger. How unexpected it was to be silenced in my heart and mind and yet articulate to a sea of faces I never expected to know or care, and how this heart cares.

Oh God, the unexpected Master that humbled and taught my tornado days that i would be used and each fragile part rebuilt for His glory and I let it gladly go, these old reservations of how I supposed it would all be.

The unexpected fall to my knees and the rivers that flowed for more than just friends, for a world I have not been able to fully see and yet I ache in all parts of me to be used and live for one more voice, for one more heartbeat, for one more eternity in His hands.

Oh Spirit, the unexpected Helper when you say the words for me and they fall from my lips like foreign pieces to the map and make these foreign lands soft in your hands and how you're making my heart long to call the foreigner my brother and sister as we are all foreigners in this land.

...And what of death? And what of disappointment? And what of injustice? And what of disease? And what of the flesh that wars inside of me demanding I stop and chase the wild tornado dreams and reap destruction? What of those things, I cry out loud and beat furiously to ...to the wind. For there in my depth, the soul mingled with the presence of an Holy Aide, those realities hold no weight against a Holy God and a Perfection I can never know, and have not fully seen. But faith is not seeing but striving and believing that one day faith will be gone, a small flicker or a ray no longer needed to light a path because we will have the sun, the SON. How He cries for all of those things, how He sees, how He keeps record of every hair on every head and will not relent in His love and now I know, what of death? He did, and He beat it. And what of disappointment? He knows the feeling as He continually redirects the sheep, that we can be dependent in the bleakest of circumstances. And what of injustice? He hears their cries and He is not far off from their relief, and we will know peace. And what of disease? He who heals, can afflict and I am the clay in His capable hands. And what of this flesh? Thanks to the Spirit that can remind me of my calling, that I am loved not because of what I do, or have done, but who I am...Christ's child, covered by the blood of the Son.

So I will say, Lord have your way. Thank you for the unexpected blessing be it in pain and suffering, or in love and laughter. Your way is best, your love is here. And how unexpected it all is, that a unworthy, sloppy, tornado of me be stilled and loved by an infinitely good God..and how that changes everything.

Current readings: Romans 8
Lamentations 3
Job 1-15

Tako Corazon...tako...

2011-12-30T12:18:00.003-08:00

Someday's I write until my hand aches, and some days I stare off into space and let the words leave my mind and my hand without any efforts brought by man, but just in a loose spiral upward, or maybe like lucid dreams, or smoke puffs that fluff up. uP. UP. and out they go.

maybe i write to no one, or all of you. You can loose your self in my words if that will help, if that will sooth. If it doesn't find you good like it does me, then you can re-write them, critique them, break them, or leave them...but they were mine first and they are louder in my heart, soft in my hand as the pen begins, and established and temporarily eternal as they tap out on keys and hit this screen, the screen you read...and my hair to the right is pink, although it's really colorless at the moment, a blank canvas waiting to take on new life...blonde babe. But yet, an adult, or so it would seem.

Today the sky is so blue that I wish my heart was a red and purple kite, taking flight and the cord of string being my arteries, weaving down around no man's fingers but bouncing free, or maybe tied to the ol' oak tree of my dreams. And all I'd know are these endless blue depths, that pour forth from God's hand, like the ocean, she is my sister and friend of old and now these hills swallow me whole. I'd give anything to bounce and bop like the kite behind these closed eyelids, and know security in the vastness of heavenly realities.

Someday's I walk the trails and then take a sharp left, leaving behind what I know and is familiar and trust not my senses but maybe another man's common gate, or mile marker, or a dam that they built yet there was no proof of more water. I let my feet hit the rocks and branches little and try to dance lightly on the untracked path, "like a gazelle", i whisper to rock walls and dried rock bed.

maybe I walk alone, or maybe there are somethings that go unseen. In the wind and when I stop to reflect or catch my weak breathe I feel less like a lone child, and more like a known woman, more like it will be soon and my mind races to what I know to be reality and my heart the kite dances joyously. These windy woods and unmarked lands are but beautiful and the highway sounds rip me back to the harshness that always marks my days, like a ticking of a bomb each day, or is it more like a slow, sad song with no resolve? What differences does it make, and the mud on my leg reminds me - kite heart, you're not home yet, so be a stranger, in fact be strange and bounce on.

Hello 2012, we welcome you with old friends...

2011-12-29T19:32:00.004-08:00

As I reached my arm around the awkward angle of the half opened french closet doors, groping my hand around a dark small space, running fingers over various cotton blends and fabrics, socks, something lace covered, something smooth, and then something...something different.

It was November and her eyes twinkled, but not because of joy...the tear stains left her face streaked just faintly enough to notice if he stood under the neon light and looked for it, by morning's first rays he could see them a little clearer, but by then she was somewhat sober in her emotions, at least weary from a night walking, a night singing- pumping fists in the air...the neighbors if they heard surely never said word, they were but foreigners in dirt roads, marking the train station and hoping for some kind of answer to fix the aches.

Pulling them out and shaking them loose, my face twisted into my crooked uneasy smile, and yet there was a wave of relief as I unwrapped the forgotten present, and I see it as just that. "Merry Christmas," I murmur under my breath, as I slip out my shoes and pull down my jeans, slipping each leg through the baggy remains of a warm welcome that awaited me one day in ...what month was that? November?

It was December and she hit her head on the loft roof as she struggled out of the tangle and murmured about lesson plans undone and of trains that would run to slow and maybe she should just call in...and he called out to see if her head was okay, but she was already slippery and sleek halfway out the door and leaving him wondering when she'd be back. And yet when he arrived it was always in chaos, loud and chattering, halfway out of breath and pulling her from warmth and dreams of home and into the hilarity and adventure, but she was unaffected and if anything soothed more by the madness because she was cold externally but in her heart warm and childlike to the hands that wound around her as they chatted about boy things and she didn't mind the interruption of sleep.

They still fit, I don't remember pockets...so deep, I do remember these. Though they had been pressed and folded over for so long, they easily worked themselves into the comfortable well hung and worn softness that made them so likable the first time. Maybe it was June, or no...more like March when they were mine. And though they fray at the ends, they still hang just below my knee and despite gaining weight since then they fit loose and I feel thin...

It was January and she had expired. She never knew a song could come down and sing so beautifully a situation into being until that crisp, cold morning where the sun lit the world on fire and her heart was loud and somewhere in her mouth, rattling between her teeth, though she found the courage to pray. He said goodbye again in on a time out on the court, and she wondered if he was good at the game or if he just was that other sort. She watched the colors change and rearrange before her as the map folded and she traveled through the rabbit hole, soon to be leaning on clothing racks again, soon to be sipping on drinks to large, soon to be behind the wheel of a car and bumper to bumper in a city that now felt truly foreign, except now she wasn't the foreign one.

"I'll wear them to sleep", I declare to the air, and my voice feels hollow and misplaced as I talk in the old house of wooden floors to myself...and in a few days, I think silently, if the world keeps spinning and the heart keeps pumping, then maybe they'll see another year, and who really knows what adventures that will bring?

"one thousand gifts"

2011-12-19T10:42:00.049-08:00

Haste makes Waste...so I'll be slow about this.

I was gifted the book "One Thousand Gifts"-Ann Voskamp
I'm not as open and receptive as one may think, instantly I cast my judgement upon this book and rolled my eyes upon receiving it...surly it would be another dusty add of Christian feel goods that collect somewhere on my bookshelf behind my poetry, my dark short stories, and my own journals on life and oddities...

but when it's snowing, and when you only have one book on hand, one does get desperate. As the snowflakes fell heavier, I sat at my Grandmothers long wooden table and forced myself to be still and read...three hours later I'm on chapter 3 and already feeling this might be one of those books that truly messes me up- in the best way possible.

It also has prompted me to start my own list of a 1,000 gifts...how trivial they may seem...read the book-then you will understand the list...these are things that cause me to be thankful, in no particular order.

I'll make it to a 1,000 on this blog and start recording them as the come...

1. Conversations with Faye
2. Snow
3. Reading in the bath...
4. Bubble Baths
5. Candlelight
6. Grandmother time
7. Room mate snuggles on my twin sized bed
8. our neighborhood deer
9. Hazelton house on the hill
10. Hot coffee in big mugs
11. Laughing till you cry
12. Window seats with a good book
13. Sand between my toes
14. My mothers hummingbird feeder
15. Ocean spray hitting my face on the jetties
16. Sounds and smells of the ocean
17. "Quad-ualting"
18. Naps in sunshine
19. Swimming done not in a pool
20. Morning hikes
21. Sunrises
22. Sunsets
23. Stargazing
24. Boldering
25. Tomato soup and grilled cheese
26. Campfires
27. Friendship without words
28. Hand holding
29. Walks
30. Receiving snail mail- handwritten
31. Love letters
32. Small spoons, and big bowls
33. Ice cream in big coffee mugs
34. Long body pillows
35. Bare toes in early morning light
36. Clean, fresh smelling clothes
37. Hairdye...seriously.
38. Early mornings, quiet and alone
39. My mother's choc.chip oatmeal raisin cookies
40. Early workouts or runs
41. Guitars
42. A new journal
43. A solid pen
44. Sharpies
45. Art and art museums
46. Pottery
47. Matinees alone
48. Popcorn- Granddad's 3tier canister
49. Unexpected visitors that just come to say hi because they love you
50. The ocean painting in the pink room
51. My father's mosaic
52. The transitions of weather and seasons- storms rolling in
53. Climbing trees
54. Finger painting
55. Library books
56. Foreign films
57. Firm hugs
58. Hot tamales
59. Handmade, homemade jewelry
60. Monster Toast with Danny
61. The smell of my parent's house
62. Old worn jeans
63. My sibling's uncanny connection and humor
64. Onseens in the winter and outside
65. The first drop off of the roller coaster
66. The REAL cowboys of old
67. Daydreaming with headphones on
68. Reading the newspaper in the mornings
69. Staring up as the snowflakes descend down
70. Tractor rides
71. Hammock time
72. Rocking chairs
73. Scrabble games
74. Porch swings
75. Falling asleep after an exhausting day of working outside
76. Sharing stories
77. Handmade scraves
78. Crying out of joy
79. Warm toes on a cold day
80. Japanese Festivals
81. Cousins
82. Worn out sweatpants from a boy
83. Friends exchanging music and making mixes
84. Tweaking the recipes
85. Waking up and being able to see...clearly
86. Handheld jumbo shower heads
87. Children when they laugh and play
88. The smell of fresh cut grass
89. Yoga stretching
90. Dirt between my fingers when working outside
91. The heat of a fire on my face
92. My mother's heartfelt prayers
93. Free refills of coffee and extra punches on a stamp card
94. Kids that tell knock-knock jokes...incorrectly
95. Small trinkets from loved ones...Milmo
96. Postcards
97. The stamp book of my Papa
98. Dogs that lay with you and mirror your mood
99. Impromptu dance parities
100. Opening my eyes underwater
101. Wind-chimes
102. Lightning storms in the valley or near the Sandias
103. Love seats that are shared with one person over the limit
104. Picnics that aren't planned
105. Whirlpools
106. Coconut Conditioner
107. Double rainbows after rain
108. Seeing multiple shooting stars
109. My father's study always cluttered with scripture and books
110. Greetings among strangers
111. Doors that men open for a lady
112. Whispering in church, class, or a movie
113. Popcorn shared
114. The bright light of morning bouncing on fresh snow and ice
115. The crunch of snow underneath my boots
116. Frantic hummingbirds fighting for a spot on the feeder
117. Humor in tense situations
118. Fingers that work their way through my hair
119. The overlook at Pedernales
120. Floating backside up
121. Beads of sweat that brim on my crown and run down my face in summer
122. The first plunge into cold water
123. Waving grain in the fields
124. How the house smells when the crockpot has been cooking all day
125. Barbecues with beer, friends, and family
126. When someone sits and starts to play the piano in the Coffee Pot as if no one is listening
127. Children's faces when they're consentrating
128. A kid's honesty...particularly a two year old
129. Communicating...without words
130. Finding arrowheads for my mother in the red sands of NM
131. Tree houses that were built by friends
132. The shortcut through the park in Kuwana and the concrete animals near the baseball field
133. My father's Mirrored Movement Syndrome...or whatever the heck that is with his hands
134. Warm gooey jam on toast and English tea, the memories of friends overseas
135. Making my family laugh
136. The clock in the hall chiming on the hour
137. My great grammy's quilt with the patterns of the past
138, The "jeweled" vintage Christmas tree that was handmade
139. Stomping in puddles while wearing rain boots
140. Crunching down on fall leaves
141. The feeling you get when you finally made it to the top of a peak/lookout point
142. Spontaneous and unexpected gifts
143. Acts of kindness from a stranger
144. Realizing that I read the bank statement wrong and I actually saved, not lost
145. My mother's gum drawer being fully stocked
146. Real Chai tea with a hint of milk
147. The encyclopedia collection we own
148. Photo-booths and the collection of faces that have shared those silly freeze framed moments
149. Splitting a far too pricey dessert with a good girl friend
150. Reminiscing and listening to stories of yourself from someone else's perspective
151. Brushing my teeth in the shower
152. Hanami, and spreading a blanket wide under those wide open skies peppered with pink and white
153. When my jeans fit a little looser
154. Barefoot in summer, especially in the soft grass
155. Holding hands when praying
156. Waking up with a prayer in my heart, a song in my head, or joy nestled within me
157. The familiar creaks and groans of an old home
158. Homemade ice tea on the back porch in the sunlight
159. Forgiveness of a friend
160. Conviction and confession, and the change that comes
161. My car, despite the many scratches, bumps, and mishaps
162. Sunday mornings when Dad made the breakfast, Danny was always late, and we raced to church in separate cars.
163. Witty exchanges with clever- quick-minded pals
164. Old classic movies- particularly Westerns
165. Public transportation in the city be it subway, train, bus...favorite is the train
166. Kickball. As a kid. As an adult.
167. Honest answers, and pure motives
168. People who use hand gestures
169. Reading books aloud to close friend
170. Swapping writings with a friend
171. Mouthwash swishing and flossing
172. Hands that are strong, weathered, and worn...like my Grandfather's
173. Wide open spaces to explore, be it a Green space, national park, or just the Texas country
174. Dinner mints that they give out at weddings
175. Sharing an umbrella during a downpour
176. Building sandcastles
177. Late night talks with my father and the wisdom that comes quietly
178. Tee shirts so worn that they're soft and familiar
179. Accidental snoozes that when awakened leave you feeling buzzed with refreshment and newness
180. The farmer's market
181. Fireworks ... especially summer time in Japan on the TSU beach
182. Dress up with friends, and a camera on hand to document the event
183. Themed parties where the guests truly embrace the mood and let loose
184. Neighbors who bring over homemade danishes
185. Reading the Word right before I fall asleep
186. Waiting up for my brother to get in, and the late night snacking around the marble island
187. Wed morning early prayer time with the girls
188. 242 of dooooom
189. Rain falling quiet on the porch and running down the back windows
190. Sword fights with cardboard tubes where Christmas paper once was
191. Puzzels with my parents on every holiday
192. Warm cherry pie, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream
193. The Christmas mixes my mother makes
194. Candlelight service
195. Handed down jewelry, the shell bird and my grandfathers turquoise
196. Rinding a horse
197. Being the only one in the gym and taking my time
198. Finding a book, or collection of stories that you can always come back to and still feel like you learned something new and fresh
199. Poetry
200. Grammy's early release, and health
221. Doctors who take their time and listen
222. A friend who just listens when you need to cry and just unravel
223. Diving under waves and the sensation when you come up
224. Hospitable friends who truly make you feel at home and cared for
225. The Ladies of P.31 group and Little TX lane- their prayers, laughter, and friendship
226. A true Sabbath...
227. The music box that sits on our large wooden shelf and plays only when the sun hits it...
228. Time spent on the Rust Ranch
229. How time really does heal
230. An unlikely friendship
231. The generosity shown to me this year through so many
232. The way it feels to get a pedicure
233. Hands that are slow and steady, able to create and mend
234, A full year with no heart trouble and no anxiety attacks
235. Planning a vacation with the family as adults, and realizing we all still love each other's company
236, The excitement of new beginnings
237. Re reading old journals and seeing that you have grown, and are learning
238. Receiving a thank you card from a person who you though didn't notice the act of kindness, and weren't expecting recognition
239. The feeling I get when I sit down to write in a brand new journal
240. A really, really, really good book
241. Scabs finally becoming scars, and scars that slowly start to fade...
242. Spooning
243. Learning words in a new language from a friend who is eager to share their native tongue
244. Being silent with someone, not because it's awkward, but because your that comfortable to not have to speak
245. My great Grandfather's book of the world, and how it created in me a curiosity of the world
246. Meditating on a particular scripture, and then having it come to the mind much later for a friend's encouragement
247. The wind blowing gently and the breeze that comes of the bay
248. The way the airplanes sound as they fly overhead
249. The trains of San Marcos during the night, they way it jogs memories of living in NM mountains
250. Instant friendship
251. Sitting cross legged and eating with chopsticks looking out over the Kyoto countryside
252. My brother sitting close and still pulling my hair and pestering me until I give in
253. Mischief in the night that involves swimming and my girlfriends
254. Hoisting myself up on the rope swing and being pushed to the water
255. Contagious laughter
256. Text messages from 242 girls with revelations and excitement as they discover and uncover new depths, the joy and the sobering that it brings me
257. Parachute army men, and when we watch them get stuck in the tree limbs below
258. Water guns and water balloons on a hot summer day
259. Meandering in the meadow and picking flowers to adorn a vase in the house
260. Surprising a room mate with a "sessy", or being the receiver of one
261. Watching the clouds roll by and naming their shapes
262. Playing M.A.S.H.
263. Teaching the next generation the silly rhymes and riddles you were taught as a child
264. Jumping rope- with lots of people
265. The feeing you get when you finally break in your new sneakers
266. Waiting until it feels like you can't wait any longer, wanting it so bad- finally getting "it" and the wave of accomplishment knowing it was all in God's perfect timing anyways
267. The sound advice of wiser and more discerning teachers and mentors, my mothers recliner chats
268. Handmade blankets, the special one that I made and hope to pass on
269. Witnessing a friends surprise and joy as she realizes she's being proposed to and all her friends set her up
270. Weddings, especially if there's dancing at the reception
271. How my father always takes my car out for a drive and then "magically" the gas tank is full
272. Wii with Danny
273. The way my mother keeps each bathroom stocked with a "hospitality" bucket or drawer
274. The sounds and smells of the coffee pot in the morning
275. A new loofa
276. Painting a new color on a wall
277. Rearranging the furniture
278. My stomach growling
279. Homemade Valentine's cards
280. Scavenger Hunts with a friend
281. Caves
282. A clearing in a forest
283. Gum that doesn't lose its flavor fast
284. Homemade Pasticho
285. Having a friend with an iPhone or GPS for the traveling
286. The Stampede
287. Banff Park
288. White Sands New Mexico
289. Desert air
290. Roadrunners on the adobe ledge
291. Fresh, new starts...the first of a month, the beginning of a new year
292. Watching the last quarter of a football game with my Dad
293. Being able to run a ten minute mile...and looking forward to making it 9...
294. My knee being better
295. Fresh coat of nail polish
296. A "monica" clean kitchen, for that matter house
297. Finding bird's nests in the most unlikely of places
298. Tall Tales
299. Make believe and the magic of an active imagination
300. Kindred spirits
301. People who believe in me and push me to do better and learn more
302. Teeth
303. My senses being in tact
304. Short films
305. The ability to research a subject by way of my computer
306. Everyday graces
307. My first bible with my declaration of my understanding and decision to choose Christ, marked April 15, 1990
308. Ellipticals on days when running outside isn't a great option
309. Skim boards, and friends to share the fun with
310. Animals, especially in their element
311. Arriving home after a long trip to a clean home and no hurry to unpack
312. People watching, un noticed of course
313. Inside jokes
314. Bollywood films
315. Korean Dramas
316. Kung fu movies
317. The desert flower that blooms in the harshest of conditions
318. Trekking a new path and finding new places to explore and make your go-to place
319. Night swimming with friends
320. Floating candles
321. Friends that call or txt for prayer, and knowing that I can count on them to stop and pray with me when I need it too
322. Movies with the room mates
323. The four large windows in my room and how on a sunny morning the light pours in and my room looks as if everything is glowing because it's so bright
324. Kimberly Skype dates
325. Josh Gromahn, pro skater, letters....with song references
326. Hearing an old friends voice and realizing that though everything has changed, the thing that hasn't is the single most important thing, that they love the Lord and are looking to Him in the midst of all the changes
327. Reunions of family, or friends
328. The freedom to worship without restraint here
329. The right to speak my mind freely
330. That I can write and pen down my emotions, releasing them and understanding more than just what I feel
331. 67 partners whom I love and pray for
331. Giftcards
332. Time with Danny
333. My dad's logical mind and how it's saved me from many irrational moves
334. My mother's archeological collection
335. Collin's humor and our ability to get lost in a joke and end up in fits of laughter that results in us crying even
336. The quiet street of Hazelton
337. Walking through the Greenbelt area just a mile from my house
338. Spotify allowing me to track down old bands and missed CD's of my youth and compile playlists for rainy days
339. Painting at night for a friend
340. Live music on the patio
341. Nights walking on the beach and sharing your heart with an old friend
342. Having someone write a song for you
343. Sitting on the jetties with Amber and singing out over the sea
344. Homemade jam and jelly
345. Bible study
346. Concordances, Greek and Hebrew translations, and commentary when studying the Scripture
347. Playing SPIDER at the park with friends
348. Knowing that Dan, Kim, and the Grandfather's are better off...
349. Old Hymns that are revised musically and brought back to life
350. Modern dance
351. Old fountain shops and pharmacy's
352. A Drive-In movie theatre
353. Roller rinks and themed parties
354. Coded letters
355. History lessons from someone who was there, and is passionate about what happened
356. A fully charged phone
357. A new, fresh calendar
358. Car beepers that actually work
359. Walkie talkies
360. Being a camp counselor and seeing kids come to an understanding of who Christ is
361, Hand-me-downs that actually prove useful
362. Scrapbooks made by friends to me...thank you Dani
363. Welcome home parities
364. Welcome parities
365. Goodbye parties
366. Getting more than you expected back after taxes
367. Fresh, ripe and ready to eat fruit
368. Chocolate milk
369. Discovering a truly great band and watching them live pre the hype and crowd, and well before the tix get to expensive
370. An honest and helpful mechanic, who cuts you a deal
371. Answers to hard questions
372. Walking the dirt trails and remembering I'm not quiet home...yet
373. Straying from the path and rediscovering a beautiful hideout
374. Blowing bubbles with kids
375. Face-painting, you're never to old, and it's even better when you can do a child's too
376. A goodnight's sleep
377. Warm feet in bed
378. Prolonged hugs when weary and sad
379. Finding old verses written on backs of notebooks and in between old books
380. Re-reading the Giver
381. Counting in Japanese, still remembering how to
382. Flexing my toes
383. My Dad's willingness to always serve me without ever having to ask, be it changing my oil, fixing a broken oddity, or helping me with taxes...I may never grow up
384. Taco stands, with wheels..you say "roach coach"- I say "yes, please."
385. Thrift store "hunting"
386. Scoring a bargain at Buffalo Exchange
387. Bubble tea in Montrose after eating dumplings upstairs at Auntie "Chang's"
388. Giving my friend a sack full of red fairy wings, glitter, candy, and a disposal camera at 360 bridge, to remind us both we don't have to be so serious
389. Getting to leave work early just because the boss thinks we need to enjoy the day
390. A waiter who lets you in on a secret that makes the meal that much better
391. An honest person chasing you down to give you the correct change back
392. Talking to a brother serving in a war
393. Friends that pick up where we left off and don't wear the mask of everything is peachy, but jump into the "meat"
394. Processing with students about what the Lord is doing in their hearts
395. Reading scripture to my room mate
396. Getting a discounted hotel rate
397. Views of the city from atop a very, very, high building
398. Rooftop adventures
399. Being in a funny skit
400. Meeting, making, and loving a new friend
401. Boys that can really amp up the energy of a group
402. Unlikely heroes
403. Tumble press, so that I never have to really iron
404. A child telling you why they love Jesus, and realizing that they are more on target than you
405. Being helpful in stressful circumstances
406. Free APs, particularly a bible ap for when I forget mine
407. Not getting lost and being on time for work events
408. The rush when we launch off into an event, seeing students arrive and hearing their stories
409. Cancer that no longer comes back
410. Trusting God and rejoicing even when the cancer is present, and eventually when God calls the person home
411. Finishing a task that has been daunting, and realizing it wasn't that bad
412. Turning over the last page of a book and being satisfied with the ending
413. Memorizing scripture and praying it into your life and others
414. Text messages of a student telling me they are praying for me and want to pray specifics for my life
415. Crying over heart ache with a student and then recalling a passage of scripture on that very issue- seeing them encouraged
416. Finishing a good friends sentence, having them finish mine
417. The light how it bounces and reflects on the sea and how it looks like a million, trillion, diamonds sprinkled out over the water
418. Eating healthy
419. Doing the right thing...the first time
420. A stranger buying me a cup of coffee for helping him edit his book he just finished...sharing the Gospel with that very man
421. Room service and painting nails, the opportunity to just embrace being super girly with a good sister
422. Speaking to a large audience of how God has changed my heart, and how He loves us so much
423. A broken dryer and enough places to drape and hang all the wet clothes...
424. Leftovers when you really don't feel like cooking
425. The convince of the red box on a night when you're dead tired and just need some good movies in
426. The map of the world that hangs over my bed and helps me pray more pointedly
427. Friends who answer the Lord's call on their lives to uproot and move to a foreign land, and trust Him, and just watch Him work
428. Phone calls with my mom, and still being the one who calls her cell the most
429. The MOO
430. J bar X...being a part of something so unique and special
431. My mother's hip being better
432. My fathers life being spared and his healing after such a traumatic surgery
433. Danny's humor
434. Triple threats
435. The red bird perched on the tree outside my mother's backyard on the snowy day in Dec, a reminder of God's promise to me
436. My family getting down on the floor with me and praying over me as I wept on an air mattress a few days after X-mas
437. Kisses on the forehead
438. Teaching a kid cat's cradle, and watching the excitement when they get it and can do it alone
439. Instruments that come from an unlikely source, or should I say the common objects that can be transformed into instruments
440. My mother's photo albums
441. Paint by number kits for kids
442. Clay
443. Watching the glassblower create beautiful pieces of glass art
444. Painting pottery and then firing it in the kiln, the excitement as you remove the finished piece
445. Old surf documentaries
446. Instant coffee packs
447. Saving money and gifting it to someone at the perfect time
448. When a student doesn't back down from asking the hard questions and being okay with wrestling with God
449. Honest and loving answers
450. Talking with a friend and realizing you are both learning the same lessons
451. Unplanned phone calls from an old friend
452. Cutting your hair yourself and realizing that it's not that bad...
453. Singing loudly in church and actually clapping a whole song through
454. People who can keep rhythm
455. My hardworking father and the example he models for me everyday
456. My mom's unique and quirky personality and creativity, being the most resourceful woman at times
457. Amber's passion
458. Holding a child who is crying and them taking comfort in the embrace and attention
459. Breakthrough's in communication with a child you are trying to teach that cannot understand your native tongue
500. Waking up to rain
501. Coffee time with Leona...best if at "Cafe Leona"
502. Sprinklers with kids on a hot summer day
503. Vina cafe, finding my Vietnamese coffee stashed away and sipping it down slowly as i watch foreign films
504. Dancing in the train
505. Dancing ON the train!
506. Vancouver pubs with the "6PACK" before we are all about to head out...
507. Falling asleep on the train with your best "mate" and waking up somewhere both of you have failed to recognize
508. Facial scrubs that leave your face feeling vibrant, tingling, and softer than when you started
509. Being gifted someone's favorite book...realizing that it was their copy
510. The way my homemade feather earrings feel as they tickle my neck and cheeks
511. Bumpy, dirt roads, where as kids we all sit on the tailgate of my Grandfather's truck-taking turns jumping off and back on as we return from working all day in the fields
512. Henna hands
513. Deep green eyes
514. When the leaves and flowers start to regrow and bud after the harshness of winter or after the passing of a drought
515. My Dad singing Bohemian Rhapsody with Amber and I as he drives us to our 5:30AM barista job by the shoreline
516. Working with Amber
517. Big, oversized, fluffy towels that smell like Bounce
518. Coffee with your pastor and his wife
519. Adoption- fighting for what we know is right
520. Long walks with the neighbor
521. The basil plant I planted...and hopeful that it won't turn out like the Aloe Vera plant
522. How the moon hung suspended and a deep yellow with golden haze that wrapped around it tonight
523. Finding Orion
524. Trips to the planetarium
525. Greenhouses and the way they smell
526. Strawberry picking in Japan
527. Overflow group, the kids always being there and the warmth as we let down and worship
528. Wisdom from women who delight in speaking truth and even more than that, they delight in doing truth
529. Sleeping in unintentionally and realizing that you had no where to be and you needed the extra rest
530. Coffee from the neighbor and talks about life
531. Clean, fresh, sheets
532. People who lead less in word, and more in deed
533. The sleepy-time timer
534. The sound of the wind as it blows through the fall leaves on the trees and rattles them into the river, how they swirl as they float by
535. A spent on the porch reading next to a good friend
536. Love letters on Valentines Day, rather than a card
537. Getting to the end of the finish line
538. The rhythmic pattern of my breathing when I hit the zone of a run and am finally focused and feel the stresses drop off my shoulder, and break from my feet
539. Duck diving under a wave
540. When one drop of water gets trapped in the neck of my wet suit and trickles down my back
541. Building a tire swing
542. Swinging over the gully as a kid
543. Eskimo kisses/ Butterfly kisses
544. Finding the canteen you though you lost by way of a stranger
545. The whistling of the wind as it turns around my house and sweeps the leaves in the yard
546. Songs sung in French, by the French
547. Having to many cooks in a much to small kitchen, and all the joy and mishaps that go along with that
548. Taking turns to shut the door of the Coffee Pot with a stranger, and laughing at all the unexpected customers who leave it ajar
549. Stretching your body after being in a car during a very long road trip
550. The way the sun pierces through the cold, grey, afternoon and warms the pane of the window I am resting against
551. The colors and patterns, how detailed and different they each are of the birds that nest just outside my window
552. Homemade salsa
553. Runny noses from the cool weather, and the warmth that washes over the body as you enter the warm threshold of home
554. Songs written together and sung off key
555. Chicken salad with walnuts and cranberries
556. My mother's precision and willingness to always proof read each letter, memo, email, and resume
557. Headphones and the perfect playlist for those when the coffee house music just isn't cutting it...
558. Watching your friend perform in their element- be it the theatre, the band, or the ballet...
559. Layers, lots and lots of layers when the weather turns cold
560. Dinner by candlelight
561. The eclectic array of the artists studio
562. My Father, still being the man I respect and look to for advice
563. Dishes that fit nicely in their place, and hot water to wash them with...the feeling of getting them done
564. That my body heals so quickly from cuts and pierced skin...even if it means that a piercing won't last
565. Peeling tangerines and my fingers smelling like the citrus
566. Buoyant yellow, fiery orange, vibrant pink, billowing purple, and calming blue smashing together as a Texan sunset unfolds on the drive home
567. Scripture taped to the red and cream tile inside the shower wall
568. Planning a visit to the parents and realizing Danny planned the same time off
569. Persimmons in Japan
570. Grapefruit spoons
571. Marking my map full of friends that are going, and friends that are already in it- praying and expecting great things
572. Best friends getting married
573. Toasts to the newlyweds
574. Notes of encouragement that friends save
575. Unexpected visitors that come bearing hammocks in my backyard
576. Free lunch after church with loved ones
577. Missed calls from Mom and her way of always reassuring me that it's not an emergency
578. Jumbo curling irons for outta control hair days
579. Good friends pulling together to make it work
580. Playing the game "Make, take it, or break.." and coming up with the most absurd, and outlandish prospects
581. Nouvelle Vague radio for a cloudy, drippy day indoors
582. Pain in the sacrifice, but knowing that you'll be blessed if you will but hold on with faith
583. Sitting on the floorboards in the Hazelton house while room mates clean rooms and linger in their laughter
584. Sal's new car!
585. Tonya's amazing hair skill
586. The Barista bringing my drink to the table, even when it's really crowded
587. Sal's chalkboard messages on the massive chalk board in the dining room
588. Cooking dinner for a friend
589. Making my very own special "secret sauce" and it being a success
590. Finished decks
591. Reading, and finishing the book before the movie comes out
592. Carnivals, and having more than enough tokens
593. Lite-Brite's
594. Playing basketball with kids
595. Impromptu games of Sardines in the Quad at night...
596. Catching the show you missed on Hulu
597. The way micro beads in face wash pop on your skin and help wake up
598. Peacocks not in a cage, free to roam
600. Spearmint
601. Adding cacao nibs to black coffee
602. Napping in Kelsey's bed as she diligently studies next to me
603. Meat from the crockpot
604. Homemade stew and cornbread on a chilly day
605. Black and white photos...old family albums and heirlooms passed down
606. The feeling of getting a fresh, new, haircut
607. Prayers for friends for a much needed job, and the call coming soon after with a new opportunity
608. The faint smell of the ocean
609. Wed. prayer with the brothers and sisters
610. The Lord being JUST and the JUDGE
611. Remembering. I am NOT forgotten.
612. The burn finally healing
613. Homemade chicken poppy seed casserole shared at 9pm
614. Letting go, and trusting that God is at work
615. Almond milk lattes
616. Brown eyed girls with earnest and willing hearts
617. The feeling as you approach the beginning of the end to a season, semester, or chapter
618. Windy roads up the mountain, and the way you slide closer together on the seat when making the drive up, up, up...
619. Room mates likes sisters, who help you finish a look by letting you borrow the perfect accessory
620. The names of God being His character, and how one day He will tell us our new names reflecting our character
621. Friends who show wisdom in their decision, and seek counsel before making moves
622. The sounds of Sal in the kitchen the night before an event...her chatter to herself
623. The calm before a storm, how the whole world seems to still
624. God the ROCK. consistent-stable: reading Deut.32
625. Genealogy
626. How a sting ray effortlessly glides over and sand and dances in waves
627. The freckles on my nose
628. Growth spurts
629. How God loves poetry and uses it to communicate powerful truths
630. Homemade crayons
631. Unexpected dirt piled in the corner after knocking over the basil
632. Fire pits on a friends deck and making smores with friends
633. Trail runs
634. Celebrating as a friend rests and you hold their new baby
635. Baby showers of a good friends
636. Light pouring through all 4 windows of my room and making the floor dance with bright shine
637. BFD- Breakfast for Dinner
638. All three room mates lying in the bed and practicing our Russian accents while we drift into sleep..
639. Spontaneous prayer moments when you stop with a sister and bow in need and eager anticipation
640. Leftover pizza
641. Being called "sister"
642. Sharing your lap with a little one
643. Victory dances done without shame
644. Slicing tomatoes with the perfect knife
645. The way a home gathering starts small and builds until the laughter pours forth and the voices are a joyful roar
646. Skilled surgeons
647. Men who cheer and holler while singing praises with the church
648. Lists made with thought, prayer, and care shared with Kimberly and the encouragement we fan into one another...as we walk through fire..
649. Volunteers
650. Realizing that it's been only a few days, and there is an unending supply of grace, and the LORDS loving kindness doesn't cease, and still His compassion never fails- lamentations 3
651. Realizing He never left you, nor did He forsake...and that it was you that just needed to see that and remember
652. RR donuts with the feisty, fiery Katie
653. Cool weathers chill when it looked to be hot
654. Crushed ice
655. A dear sister reading my own words back to me and expressing gratitude for their value and meaning capturing her heartbeat and of course, mine
656. Acquaintance"s becoming deep friends
657. The characteristic of God that you wrestle to know and hear better suddenly presenting itself to you as an invitation in a time of need...the Lord my ROCK
658. The first light of a new day reaching my eyes
659. The way a baby explores and uses their hands, especially when eating and grabbing things
700. Making a child smile...even when they seem so resistant
701. 4 square, as a kid. As an adult
702. Finishing the painting and being satisfied that you did the best, but maybe next time you'll be better
703. Puffy cheetos and how they make your fingers orange and messy
704. Spray painting my shoes gold
705. The freckle on my left ear mirroring my brothers
706. Taking my time to eat and enjoying the meal with people
707. The thrill of walking across a less that sturdy tree limb and launching out into the perfect summer watering hole
708. Naps in the park
709. The intro to 'Tokyo Police Club's' BE GOOD starting up...
710. Waking up to a thunderstorm
711. Homemade sweet potato fries
712. After storm couds and the way they peel back and reveal golden hues of sun
713. Eyes being the window to one's soul
714. Wed devotionals...psalm 77
715. Cake balls...
716. Falling asleep on a raft in the beach
717. Perfectly ripe bananas
718. Sore arms
719. Being filled with courage and speaking up for another
720. Being able to feed the hungry
721. The skyline of a small town square in the early morning, the odd tops to old historic buildings and their rustic story
722.

Mind Alive

2011-12-11T13:02:00.001-08:00

Where is my mind? Whose mind do I have? When I wake, am I already dead? Do I say Jesus, on my lips, or is it something of the world I begin to hiss? Heartbeat bold, or heart amiss? Clear and free, or a clutter of distorted realities-Where is the mind?
And so here I go…
Did I hide my heart in hands so strong, or did I pimp myself to someone’s lofty songs, lullaby’s that do disguise all the motives of men and trends, or what the bible may flat out call sin? Where is this mind today? Is it in the wind, riding off on far away tangents, puffed and full of abilities that really are nothing more than empty philosophies? It’s been done son, it’s been said sister, you aren’t intellectual mister, oh ma’am your words are worthless and I guarantee it will shut you up when you meet your Maker, who speaks to matter, and rocks, and trees, who knows the tongue of everyone. Who whispers the languages of every sea, and can calm the rages of the ocean and of my heart…and of this rampant mind. Where does this mind meditate? On the words of decaying poets, of mere men, or of the buzz of the day, the melodies of mediocrity, or will it be on TRUTH, not just one bible verse, or sunny Sunday school snapshot, but on the Word of God alive and piercing, convicting and killing, rending my heart in two until I stop the saddle riding with one foot on the world and one on the Holy Mountain? Crotch rot at best, will I meditate on His voice calling loud from His Holy mouth? Where is the mind then in the allure of what men say and do, in the success I am promised, and the comfortable offer to stay safe, to stay sane, to be normal, to look good, to taste, to touch, to want and to have, to play, to enjoy, to eat, to drink, and to be merry? Is the mind engaged in these fickle babes? –And all that leave me with but a greater ache…or is this mind enraged- fighting like a fury of men cutting the throats of all those lies, exposing the dead rotting corpses of systems and religions, of humanitarian, or of morality, of corporations, and hollow philosophies, of theories, of empty wanderings… this is the death of me…

So I pray that each day I wake up wanting death, putting my mind into the Lord’s hands and saying “no” softly to a pillow, or a mat, or a rock, or the ground, or where ever my head is found…saying “No, no more of me…mind, choose Jesus…and be free!”

1 Corinthians 2:14-16 The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one. “For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?” But we have the mind of Christ.

"....and now I am a Man" within the Indian Lands.

2011-12-09T08:41:00.003-08:00

I was 14, and all things awkward. Long legs, glasses, and long hair that frequently I tugged at...
I still remember sitting in a crowded small room below the sanctuary listening to my Uncle share about the Lord and then passing out worksheets with lyrics on it to play some musical game- a mixer of sorts. I was off beat the entire time we played frisbee baseball, and remembered focusing to long on the mountains that loomed in the background, and wasn't even sure if I was the one to be guarding third base or second...When we started the 16 hour drive back to Texas and the coast I looked back at mountains in the rearview and met my Father's brown eyes, one brow up, and then I saw his lips were actually moving, "Turn it down back there kiddo, too loud." I fumbled over the CD player and moved it not even a notch lower and then buried head in the pillow to drown out the bass and allow myself to continue to cause my ears to ache. Those summer trips each year are what birthed my love of music and helped shed the clouds of being lost.

I took the CD from my Uncles church and it wasn't the song they used that impressed me after all, intact, it was unlikely that I even would like the band but some how it was in my hands, and then my head, and now my heart. It was of surrender. I turned off my rap, put away my Offspring case and squirmed under the pillow as tears welled in my eyes listening again to the same song a about a dozen times on repeat...

"still too loud kiddo" My father barked from the front. This time I moved the volume down and laid belly down on the grey lined seats and stared out the window at the piercing blue sky, suddenly it was flat all around and as I stretched my palm up and touched the pane, I knew from the feel that we were back in Texas, oh the heat. I remember sighing...and that surrender wasn't far off this time.

************************************************************************
The Waiting
If I raise my hands just lift the shade
Will I reveal a sky heavy and gray?
Will last night be a memory sweetly fading?
How I hate a morning starting out this way
On these lonely raging mornings I would whip you if I could
But Your on the mighty side of strong and the perfect side of good

If I raise my hands will you grab me by the wrists
And will you try to pull me from the fray?
And even if my fingers join together into fists
Will you hold me firmly anyway?
'Cause I would try to escape you but for everyday I'm sure
That You're on the huge side of big and the hly side of pure

Ok, hear what I say
As I raise my hands and surrender today
Ok, here I will stay
Hands in the air, singing have Thine own way

If I raise my hands so weak and thin and frail
Will you reveal the light of mercy in your eyes?
If I cry to you faintly will my feeble whispers fail
Or will it find its way to a reply?
'Cause now that I'm exhausted I think I'm ready to admit
That I've spent all my resistance on someone I can't resist

Ok, hear what I say
As I raise my hands, in surrender today
Ok, here I will stay
Hands in the air singing have Thine own way

Light from my window sill make my way to the door
I hang my head and still I know your wanting more
Over the threshold now I move across the yard
Although my will allows my every step is hard
Now in the garden I carve out six feet of space
There make my will comply lie down upon my face
Been toe to toe to long I'm tired of fighting You
I see You were to strong, 'cause I am black and blue
But now I understand that losers do to win
How every dying man is sure to rise again
So I rasie my left hand one I raise my right hand two
Under the morning sun, my spirit cries to You

Ok, hear what I say
As I raise my hands in surrender today
Right here under the sun
Hands in the air singing Thy will be done
I'm here under the sun
Hands in the air singing Thy will be done
Ok, here I will stay
Hands in the air, singing have Thine own way
Have thine own way
*********************************************************************************

she's singing my song...

2011-12-02T23:01:00.004-08:00

Sometimes I read someone's words, but I hear my voice. I love when the poet shapes it into song and I feel more alive, no maybe justified. And when I look on the canvas I feel as though I peered in the mind of the creator, I feel this calm delight knowing I can slip into my own kind of frame, somewhere seeing the bright images back again in my mind and making my way. Thank you God for this. Or like today, when I wake and hear the rain, I always dig deeper in the sheets and place myself under more layers, listening to see if any of the rhythms of the drops are the same...I pretended I didn't live to any clock. I find it a challenge to choke down my own medicine at times, but I love their eyes, their laughter and light, I'll pray so eagerly and give more of me if that would help. I'd never want the power of invisibility, it hurts to know to much, and words from friends can't always kind or they may not be friends at all. Oh that the season rolled by so quickly. I'm ready for snow and time to cease, living less in the intervals, these contained blocks, and instead just existing and taking in all the moments as I listen to the quiet. One smells like Rose, and one like Lavender, both aged and mine. Both frail, and small. Clever how the rain came quietly as I dreamed of home and ached for its reality. But what do I know of weightlessness, because this home has not been seen by me, only behind closed eyelids and most of it remains a great mystery. So not yet...it's not yet...whisper that to the cave of sheets that swallow me and count...one. two....three....fourfivesix......seven. Lord, I pray I never forget. Lord...onetwothree...four...fivesix....seven...

"BREATH ME'

Rusty Pipes

2011-11-28T20:15:00.002-08:00

I think the hardest part of saying goodbye is that I remember your youth and that look in your eye. Blue and wild you were and you made the three of us climb, so high as we stretched like feathers our shirts to the sky. You told me a tale of that mountain air and the man around the bend. I listened then, and I wish you lived to tell the tale again. Little as she was, she took after you and she mimicked your moves though she claimed it was her own groove. I hear she wears your old peacoat and a thousand of your scarves, she kept the ring of all things. I remember when he gave you that ring, not very nice I thought, but you had no reservations and this was the life you would always want. We dreamed big things and we lost ourselves in the music, the red room was our favorite and it was there I learned the rhythm. I liked your bleached blonde hair, and the way you nonchalantly held a friends hand, so I put a streak in mine and tried holding strangers hands more frequently. and I liked that you disappeared in the night and left me your free spirit candle and your favorite beaded head wrap. I ache each year around now to know I can't call you on the phone, that a CD and a canvas is all I have of you and me....but those mountains sing still and I remember the end of the tale. It was your middle name that they said when they called me and said you were...and all I thought was no, she didn't go as far as I thought you'd go. Or what of the other mountains we didn't yet see, what about our plans to live by the sea, and yes-what about me? Summer was so brief and fall seemed long and winding. I talked in aisles crowded with books and emailed your family regards but I was only 19 and wasn't used to these things. I swore I'd be just like you one day, but I wasn't good at being you, so I could only be me. And then I remembered that you told me that me was good enough, because that's what kindred friend does when they love. I visited the mountains once alone, and went up the steep cliff again. I abandoned common sense and left my tee shirt on a twisted cactus, there alone I said your name twice to the wind and Kim, I dyed my hair bleach blonde...again.

November Remember...

2011-11-27T08:53:00.003-08:00

She wore a sweater- cluttered and stately, forgetting my adolescence and turning to the Mountain Side. I had these eyes with her name on them, and all I could do was listen to what you'd said, and I know she'd go back if you could come January-

He wore a swagger- full and stride, forgetting my requests and turning to the Greek kind of life. I had a journal with his name on it, and all I could do was write and rewrite your lines, and yet I know he'd prove me wrong come February-

He wore a fedora- small and plaid, forgetting my depression and turning to the LA scene. I had a black and white strip of film with his name on it, and all I could do was recreate your laughs to an audience of one, and I know he'd still keep driving come March-

He wore a suit- tall and crispy, forgetting my smile and turning to the Kanto Region. I had a picture on my phone with his frame on it, and all I could do was mourn your loss of more endless nights, and I know he'd light another cigarette come April-

He wore a cartoon- vibrant and alive, forgetting my allegiance and turning to the Metro Elite. I had a joke with his name on it, and all I could do was recall your exaggerated punchline, and I know he'd tell the rest come May-

She wore a peacoat- wooly and ripe, forgetting my name and turning to the British country side. I had a book with her name on it, and all I could do was compare the art flair you possessed, and I know she'd hit the right notes come June-

He wore a vintage army coat- shaggy and rare, forgetting my heart and turing to the West Coast cliffs. I had a canvas with his name on it, and all I could do was contemplate the colors you'd paint, and I know he'd paint me over again come July-

He wore a t-shirt- plain and cotton, forgetting my laugh and turning to the Congregation. I had a temper with his name on it, and all I could do was analyze the works of dead gentleman like you do, and I know if he'd fix my perspective come August-

She wore a tattoo- fresh and ancient, forgetting my calling and turning to the Indian Country. I had a mix tape with her name on it, and all I could do was hum the chorus back to you, and I know she'd finish the song come September-

She wore a leather jacket- cool and tight, forgetting my shortcomings and turning to the European Trails. I had a costume with her name on it, and all I could do was play your part, and I know she'd make a new addition come October-

I wore a rainbow in my hair- fading and mismatched, forgetting my promises and turning to the Highway. I had my name on the stake, and all I could do was write another endless line of odd poetry of me being back to start, and I know I'll be fighting stronger come November-

He wore a brown polo with stripes- frumpy and quaint, forgetting my love and turning to the North end of things. I had a collection of memories with his name on it, and all I could do was pray, and I know he'd grow strong come December-

My prayer is the fire is in my bones.

2011-11-11T07:26:00.002-08:00

Fickle heartbeat, drum your song.
Fierce passion in the chest, always you will miss.

Faker of a tongue, words you've hung.
Flapping lips of flattery, always you will piss.

Flashy flesh, hands or your feet.
Flaky movements of the body, always you will wish.

Folding hands, whisper YOUR will.
Faith increased as flesh falls, always YOU prevail.

Burn these love letters in my heart, burn these praises on my lips, burn these commands in my flesh, burn these words into my soul...that I be worn and torn if I don't give these flames the air they need to consume all that makes me.

The prayer of the daughter now almost weaned, and may my very bones be consumed with this Spirit blazing in the depths of me, be all that they see- be all that ignites me.

JEREMIAH 20:9
But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name", his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in, indeed, I cannot.

i really, really LOVE my job...

2011-11-08T09:05:00.002-08:00

Tattooed mind.

2011-11-05T11:26:00.003-07:00

It's too cold outside for our drafty little house, and the night means we groan for more blankets and cocoon down in our sleep. The room mate and I decided it'd be best if we just drifted into sleep together huddled under layers and in my twin size bed. I dreamt so vividly maybe because I was so warm and maybe because I was so weary, and all the ramblings of our pillow talk came into my head and the Scripture always comes back in even in my subconscious, even when I feel somewhere like I am drifting in and out of themes or dreams and so the night went forward, but there it was but the beginning of the day....

First there was my childhood friend, always so gentle and laughing her words, I rolled over to sleep on my stomach and felt you there so I calmed my breath and faded back somewhere to more of the past but we were actually years ahead- or maybe dead to here and somewhere entirely of a different realm. And then there I was with you, on a beach, and the inhabitants were above me on the cliffs where we supposedly lived. You slept softly feather in tact next to me, how did you not move and did I wake you with my squirms as I dreamt of sea, oh all of me on those waves, but I didn’t get in. And your hair is so much longer than mine and yet when I closed my eyes I think I wore it all tied back on the nape of my own neck. My skin, was it real? I woke and check my arm for some holy seal of faint black, the man said soon it will be red…just a few more sittings of shading, I was scared and yet bold and beautifiul. They congregated in a circle somewhere on the beach and yet I was out of reach still looking at my hand, I knew then it was of man, but I ached for it to be my time so I slipped through the dream in my mind and now awake. Guitar faintly strumming and you watched me dress, hushed about the nights events…I’ll tell you later when the laundry’s done, when the face is plump, maybe when the ink is dry. I thought it spelled pride, but that’s the lie…it said FREE, but not yet red…but not yet red.

ODE to the flower hearts

2011-10-31T11:09:00.002-07:00

ODE to the flower hearts
Sipping on the reminisce of all that was arid or aroused, cheapened petals on her skin shimmer under the sun- oh what is to come- oh what is done, be done. How it pains to be a flurry, ablaze and yet not extinguished-but Be you the brush that did ignite? Be you the warped wiry thorn of youth that strung about in crucifixes? They that glisten and glow danced upon that envious throne and of all the triumph in the wind, it still blows its gentle command across porcelain skin. Soothing the flame making a steady rhythm, the heat that licks her wounds and welds the pieces. Mind engaged, heart enraged, sail her way or let the fetter fight its course through the fickle waves of sand and leave her the Y's, living in a dune of a home and rip tide. Oh ash- where you so rare before, how is it that you began to take on such form? A petal of blood so pure that covers the wasteland and drinks deep of earthen sun how does this come? Floating somewhere in between, push the stem out from underneath- oh fair red beloved, do you bear any more thorns to prick the yet alive and instruct them to keep breathing? Oh but red raven, are you now going heavenward or towards the son? Tell them her destination, or be but still in this desert and expectantly address in the skies, oh those skies of uncertainties- how i see them every new beginning in the blue eyes of a mirror that stares directly back into mine.

Bravery and i...the smallest to become.

2011-10-24T21:45:00.004-07:00

Through the seas and mountains i came across to you in a vapor that touched the earth and reminded you of our son, and then our daughter. It was all laughter, it was the sweet sweat of your brow and my eternal bow from years of performing for you a mist the international borders and under the immense sky of what we could never begin to understand.

i wear the shell of many years and though i grow on, my heart feels hollow across the forbidden whispers- a war, or wait, it all seems the same and you could hear my voice on the raging tide singing that sick lullaby of stripes painted on those pale walls and resting places which first fell from your guitar and nestled in the young girls reddish heart.

Hit restart.

Or float on the ever waves of the deeper realities that it was ill fated, but they burst into my daydreams and i saw with clearer eyes that she would be sturdy and free like me, and he would laugh like you, and we would but be... shake the dust and peel off the rust we are farther than a dream or moments memory and yet i woke to a touch and faintly whispered to the dark- restart.

And the heart, it did leap or so it seemed, it crept from the cave and gave such a tremble i thought, yes- alive and well...or no, at least alive.

yearning...

2011-10-12T09:40:00.002-07:00

I now walk the streets, I now make my way under the trees and windy paths, the still nights...the bright days and in all the heat and humidity of San Marcos despite the Fall, I find myself along the same bridge where as a student I clutched a note card which upon it was scribbled a verse that spoke of yearning, I felt withered and windy in my mind and sore in my heart..."please Lord, bring these words to life in me...please Lord, be my life..."

oh the ache for it.

And here I stand again, in these places where I broke, where I defiantly missed my mark again and again. I look on the faces of these women and think, can I lead? who am I? what words will fall out?- they seem so vague, wasn't it just a few moments ago when I was wrestling with the Lord trying to pin down His blessing?

The yearn was cured in that wrestle with the Lord. Now it seems to me that this yearn is so ever present always, it's in all of me...it courses through my veins, pulses in my heartbeat and runs through my mind. It's what I pine after, and look for, it's in my longings and desires, all my dreams, it is always there...I yearn. It was then as a student that I yearned to yearn, but now- am I a little more clear, could that be? I am still so limited in this sight, in seeing these realities, but the yearn was there, it was just not directed to the One, the Lord who was to satisfy, to bring peace, to come and satiate. Oh yearning heart, please learn, He has answered the ache in Himself, He has waited for your arrival into His lovely arms.

I yearned and found Him, ready to meet all the needs I could ever ask for or exhaust...He could always outdo my needs, the ultimate provision with such sturdy hands, fully God, fully man. I will yearn for the rest of my days here in my flesh, but I hope and pray that each day the yearn is directed in the Son- Jesus...Jesus, be the One my heart rests, that my mind engages with, and that my strength is realized, and then yes my soul will delight.

PSALM 63:1- O GOD, YOU are my GOD; I shall seek YOU earnestly; My soul thirsts for YOU, my flesh yearns for YOU, In a dry and weary land where there is no water.

EXODUS 3:13-14 Then Moses said to GOD, "Behold I am going to the sons of Israel, and I will say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you.' Now they may say to me, 'What is His name?' What shall I say to them?" GOD said to Moses, "I AM WHO I AM"..

today i sing...

2011-10-08T07:23:00.001-07:00

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Hither by Thy help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee:
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

"Amorcita"

2011-10-05T18:01:00.002-07:00

Mi corazón.

Corazón, corazón, corazón.

Heavy when you said No, heavy when you sighed Yes…corazón.

Lost the fight before the ring, as we all sang hymns around your wanderings, and those men with their fickle words- when will the Little one’s all but learn.

Corazon, corazón, corazón.

Aimless when I said No, firm when I sang Yes…corazón.

Train without direction when we said Go, you chugged on, and when those men tried to stop, you forgot the tracks belonged to no one -oh when we belong to some destination

Corazon, corazón, corazón.

Somwhere in the dirt we spelled it out and you heard that awful quiet sound, it’s only when it all but left you that I heard the rage inside my chest…corazón, corazón, corazón.

Mi Corazón partido.

The paper tree- Proverbs 3

2011-10-02T16:56:00.004-07:00

Paper. I feel thin, frail...able to be pushed aside. Able to rip. Capable of having a message branded on me that means nothing to me, and could never really be my story. Paper that could be thrown into the fire and be consumed and turned to dust, not even worthy of flaming a flame or of being ash. Paper.

Pulled apart from my source, that is exactly what I will be... a weightless existence, empty, a waif will be my heart- floating on all these winds of uncertainty and chance apart from divine appointments, dipping low into catastrophe. Or will I be someone else's notes and ideas, another voice and nothing to say of my own. Disposed because i made myself disposable when I allowed myself to give control to others, when I let my altar to be something much better...better than paper...

Oh paper heart, fickle as it may be-will I now trust that in the Lord there is a sacred scroll established, and it bears this name...my worn out identity found it's self written out in Blood and stained clean, and this defeat I know of is over. Oh isn't this grace which laps over me in colossal waves in an ocean of His love, isn't this where the real work begins.

Wrecked before made whole, and often it feels as though I am bound to repeat this method. No longer paper, holding out in some man's bottle, the mere SOS calling out for a perfect fit. Instead this paper becomes a weight, a pulse. Heartbeat and blood. A solidity in His touch see how this paper grows to the sturdy tree. My fit is in His soil and Son. This is where we all paper hearts will belong.

I will stretch out and fan the sky with these provisions from high, and here I will dig deep into the worth of the Lord and all He says, for to live as paper is to put in simple terms...it is not to live for you are dead.

A runner in my mind, a runner in my heart...

2011-09-30T08:12:00.002-07:00

Lord, to say you are enough is still an understatement, you are so beyond what my heart can even take in and so much more than my soul can begin to yearn after, and all of what my strength can take on is still not big enough, and what my mind can comprehend, You are in fathomably deeper still and so I will ask that today I drown in Your goodness and sink under the weight of Your reality. I know that all my longings are simply meet, can't out run Your provisions and so I just give it up and say You are ENOUGH. Help us Lord, help us divorce our disillusions about You and find Truth today.

He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’ ; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ ”
Luke 10:27

I hope I live, no...LOVE well today...

My So Called...life?

2011-09-26T08:36:00.002-07:00

I've gotten into this bad habit of leaving Hulu on as background when I do things around my room. Yesterday I let it play through episodes of 'My So Called Life'- hello 90's. hello Jordan Catalano. hello teen angst. As I was waist deep in art supplies and fragments of old canvasses, I found myself zoning into her moaning's on life...her little philosophies that weave themselves through the show.

"This life has been a test. If it had been an actual life, you would have received instructions on where to go and what to do."

or,

"People alway say you should be yourself, like yourself is this definite thing, like a toaster or something. Like you can know what it is even. But every so often I'll have like, a moment, when just being myself in my life, right where I am, is like, enough."

I felt like I was listening to myself at 15. Her inner dialogue really wasn't to impressive, and i found myself laughing at my own teen angst moments...I was so dramatic. That and thinking my mother and father were oblivious to the issues I was facing, to the world...that they were so dumb. I thought, is this what happens when you get old? It's interesting how I soberly admit that the only real dim-witted person in that house, was myself. I was so closed off to my little episodes of drama and the meaning/s of life, meanwhile my family was busy-living life. Do you feel yourself sometimes do that even now? Like you micro manage something, you focus so finely on a problem, an event, a person, a thing...an issue...so much so that you lose perspective of what is real. You grow unhealthy and malnourished, distant and cold to those around you. You view them side ways, upside down, and through a weak looking glass that distorts things. You become judgmental. You get attitude, you are fearful and bitter.

Interesting, isn't it? The world doesn't revolve around me, nor does it revolve around you. I guess what I am observing isn't anything new, human condition- a tendency to focus on our own selves and begin groping around for pieces to this puzzle of life. But I think life isn't a puzzle, nor is it the balancing act where I now seem to see myself being a player. I've moved from the moody emotional teen angst, and the narrow views of my youth into a loose liberal abuse of life. Which in this liberty, I was found to be nothing more than a mere addict to self, to the now, to pleasures, a hypocrite, and still a very selfish person. I was shown that not to be the way to live this life, but still I thought- then how, how do we live? I seek answers in the Lord and know that real life is found in Christ, and there I start to see truth that resounds in my soul and rick-a-shays through my mind, like a boomerang. It's in my heart throbbing as I chose things apart from Christ, as a reminder that life cannot be truly lived without Him. But yet even in the awareness i have now, I am still prone to error.

I am now in the balancing act, as I strut, teeter, or flap my arms wildly to maintain my gravity, I'm on the balance beam which I have deemed life. Better not fall, must keep it all on. Sometimes I just sit on the beam rather than walk for fear of failure...and it's here I realized the others walking on the ground, effortlessly. Life is not this beam, this delicate balance...it's something more. It was created apart from me and yet given to me, and how I know this is because God existed without us, and really doesn't need us. So why then do I live, why then do I NOT live?- I should say. Why am I even writing all this...?

It's because I forgot that life is worship. We all will worship something. I have worshiped many things and many people apart from God, be it my hurt and my troubles, myself and my accomplishments. My money, success, and the worship of worship if you can believe that. But have I worshiped God? Everyday and in every way, you will worship something...I think I'll just get outside and walk around and start to pray that today, yes TODAY I am found in true worship. Worship of the LORD....and we'll see what that brings about.

(this inspired after reading through the book of Ephesians and Ch.1 of Ecclesiastes)

psalm 1

2011-09-16T07:50:00.004-07:00

"How blessed is the man who does not walk in the way of the wicked nor stand in the path of sinner, or sit in the seat off scoffers. But his delight is in the law of the LORD and in His law he meditates day and night. For he will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, which yields fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither; and he prospers in whatever he does. But the wicked are not so, they are like chaff driven away by the wind. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous. For the LORD knows the way of the righteous, But the way of the wicked will perish."

To meditate in God's word, is to discourse with ourselves concerning the great things contained in it, with close application of mind and fixedness of thought. We must have constant regard to the word of God, as the rule of our actions, and the spring of our comforts; and have it in our thoughts night and day. For this purpose no time is amiss. (Ps 1:4-6)- Matthew Henry

When I think of the structure of these verses, I don't think there was any mistake in that meditation the God's Word comes before the promise of prospering. If you look at the commentary of Matthew Henry it makes me see that if I am truly meditating on God's word its not that *ding!-I'll be prospering in all things for the sake of my own self benefit and gain!-NO, but when you really are impressed and mulling over God's truths, the things you pray for and ache for, are very much His heartbeat...you ache and pray for healing, for people to be free, for injustice to die off, and for His glory to be recognized, accepted, loved and obeyed. You pray less for yourself and more for your brothers. You thank often, you rejoice well, you no longer feel the need to be cynical or feel the need to be judgmental, you love deeply. Instead of running to the fickle desires you thought would satisfy, you patiently wait for results of the supernatural. You feel sturdy...like a tree.

sleeping in

2011-09-15T12:13:00.003-07:00

I had the weirdest most vivid dream that I was presently in the past and all these memories came flooded into me, they weaved about in different order but all from my youth. Particular certain events that were mundane then, but must have pressed into me nonetheless. Different friends, all monumental in their own way, and this silly feeling of just being so odd and yet okay with the wanderings and mundane...mundane, funny how simple things will be what really impacts our hearts and minds. I thought I'd write it before I forgot it all.

In my dream
I felt 12.13.14.15.16

I sunk so deep into the familiar whispers of a life that I have passed...

I held hands with my best friend everyday and watched too much TV when no one would take me to the beach. I ran past the Maverick Mart with a bag full of pop rocks, soda, and sour straws, wishing I had my own car to stop having to rely on my feet, my bike, or my older brother...I played tennis in the night on the streets, and sometimes lost my shoes while digging up the ground or acting out my favorite book with a girl we nicknamed MOO. I dreamed of being the traveled one who spoke the languages of so many and had climbed the highest peaks, who knew of wonderful things, and I laughed as I heard myself sing in my room or over the phone to my best friend then...always off beat. I was too loud, a pest, and childish. I made you laugh, listened if you cried, and would bleed to climb the limbs of every tree. I fought and screamed, but more than that I laughed and singed. I measured greatness by one's compassion and ability to listen, by their company and in the gems of a variety of friends. I snuck out at night, mostly to walk the streets and confess crushes. I always took to much time telling a story and usually forgot the point. I loved the ocean, I loved that sea, call it dirty- I felt it was apart of me. Names that rhymed, losing track of time, you with that funny guitar. Walking to our midway spot, sharing clothes, sharing cries, sharing cream soda, sharing our lives. Promises we said, some we broke, some we left to the wind as we watched the tide fade. Roller coasters, and our first job. Trying desperately to fit in, only to learn that we were better off without that hassel. Watching the times change, but still hearing sounds of familiarity in your voice, in all their voices. Saturday forts. My father's breakfast every Sunday, his studies always open to my peeping eyes. My mother's lists, things checked off neatly, completely. A trombone was playing far off in the corner, and every time I stood in front of his door it just stopped.

Confessions of the loved...

2011-08-08T09:12:00.001-07:00

They say it takes 5years to grieve a death; it’s a process…rouge waves. I have lost loved ones to death, I have lost them young…21…22…14…I have lost them old…80…75…and I have lost myself.

And now I grieve again, the death of a dream.
In talking with dear friends, it was brought to my attention that I seemed flippant or perhaps very okay with the unraveling of an engagement that was about two years ago, and then the crumbling of the entire relationship one year ago. It my friends, was the hardest thing I have ever had to walk through. I’m ready to share. I view it as a death; it was a death of a dream. The reality that I could no longer dream of sharing and making a family with a man I loved and respected, the reality that I could not be called his, and he not be called mine. The loss of what I viewed secure, and concrete. The pain as I had to shut off from the closest and best friend I had ever known because I knew the Lord was having me protect my delicate and throbbing heart. The death of this dream preyed on every single one of my insecurities in a huge way. The fear I was going to always be alone, the fear I was incapable of commitment, the fear I was being somehow rebellious, and the fear that I am a failure and will always be one…the fear of being unlovable. As I write my own tears stream down my face as I recall a year that truly stretched me and left me spent and exhausted.
I did what felt impossible at the time, I called to the Lord to come and wash over my fears, to anchor me in truth- to do what He claims to do best, satisfy me completely. I did not win the case, I did not get the result I wanted- the man and marriage I ached for, but I did get something that is truly indescribable and beyond comprehension- assurance in Christ, peace that He would provide for me every single day, every hour, every minute..in Himself. Though I had to wrestle for it…

To be honest, I at times thought, Yes God, I know you give me You, but I wanted more…I began just shutting that mentality down by daily crying out to Him, using His own promises and asking that He mold and change my perspective, that He help me be satisfied with Him and come to the realization that I am complete in Him, I have all I ever need in Him. I wrote verses in a little red book that my mother gave me with the instructions, “Dear daughter, write the things you want to trust to God.” I wrote dreams, I wrote silly lists, I wrote his name over and over, I finally wrote: “I will trust you with the outcome.” and then I wrote verse after verse….

This weekend I listened to the excitement and joy of a sister as she begins her journey and the new life with her fiancé. I was not jealous. I was not angry. I was excited for her, I was in tune with my heart and listened to the story that she will someday share with her children. Only then did it occur to me that I was afraid deep inside that I would know no such joy and rather than address the fear, I completely sealed myself off and have operated away from opportunities of men or the possibility that God would still have me marry. I have lived in a mentality where I would just quietly and intentionally remain single and learn contentment. Would it shock you to know that I am pretty content? However, I also identify the problem that’s at hand, it’s a false contentment. It’s a fear for me that is disguised as contentment. The fear is that I am incapable of being loved in that manner, those ugly fears I combated so fiercely at the beginning resurfaced. So I feel I must confess, I must share this process. My prayer now is that the Lord reminds me of His love for me, that I would be free of these lies, that I truly live the life He has blessed me with, to dream big and to trust Him at large, to be uncomfortable, and not hide away.

As we heard our Director for the weekend speak on the Prodigal Son in Luke, I found myself rolling my eyes thinking, this story again- and then he stated something I have never really thought of, he made mention of the different mentalities that might have been present for both son’s in the passage…and he concluded that we need to learn from both of them, we need to understand just how a mess we are, and yet we also need to see just how great the love of our Father is- it’s grace.

The mantra he pieced together was one that quietly weaved its way through my inner thoughts and soon began to pull softly on my heart. I began to find myself pondering the statement and looking at God with thankfulness, a deep gratitude, and the unraveling began.
“I am far worse than I could have ever imagined, BUT I am far more loved than I could have dared dream.”

So the outcome was trusted to the Lord then, as my ex and I moved apart I trusted God to help lead me in what came next…now I see that it never does end. I now am back at that statement asking God to give me the ability to trust Him once more with the outcome, however now I see it’s not the outcome of a relationship with a man, but the outcome of my entire life- for I give it to Him freely. Free.

Why crack this door to my heart open so publicly? The Lord told me to be transparent, and if it will help someone know Him and be confident that He will give you peace and make you complete, then I will bleed all my hurt on these pages and I will cry and shout and tell you just how wonderfully a mess I am, a mess I make, and He takes us mess and all and makes us beautiful, so loved. We are loved. You are loved. I am loved, and I will love louder and stronger with His help.

“My child I’m in love with you…It’s a solemn vow- I’ll come back for you. My child, I’m in love with you.”-Enter the Worship Circle

Wed. and the middle room.

2011-07-13T19:59:00.001-07:00

The Jester and the drunken lady, the cool blue sir that held them somewhat together, and yet they were all apart.
Two pairs of moccasins and them dusty flip flops.

Then there were the musicians who stole the ears of all that cared to listen, or weren’t quite asleep, but dead in their heads anyways. No smoke, just silver cans and shades, something of the elephants and the misuse of Dylan’s words and mumblings of the poor.

My greatest accomplishment, to say your name, keeps looking at the white dress in old musty frames. Hit that high C and the rug embraced the idiots. Entertain the purple lady and her rants of wind in Timberlands.

Stenographer, he asked? I grin as I make my mental notes and pray for the opportunities to not have to talk, or think, I’ll just sink into the sofa and into the lame lights of greater or less days, oh summer haze.

I wished my friends here, prayed for fire, but it was sluggish and there was me, and the other three. Who were their names and what were their stories? I learned nothing that surprised me and nothing that leapt from deep inside me, oh cavern woman, and sit still in your cave.

It’s too early for bed, yet I reluctantly tuck behind sheets of the same color of that girl and I force a dream onto the mind of a lesser man than I was since the spring, waiting, still waiting for all those supposed new feelings.

INDEPENDENCE day

2011-07-04T07:44:00.002-07:00

Today I prayed...
"Teach me how to dream...
Teach me how to share...
Teach me how to be here.

Teach me how to care...
Teach me how to speak...
Teach me how to think.

Teach me how to laugh...
Teach me how to cry...
Teach me how to fight.

Teach me how to feel...
Teach me how to work...
Teach me how to play.

Teach me how to eat...
Teach me how to love...
Teach me how to pray.

Teach me how to be."

And then He answered me...

"Look at Christ…and you will be."

Ecc 3:11 He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end.

Isaiah 42:1-9 Behold, My Servant, whom I uphold; My chosen one in whom My soul delights. I have put my Spirit upon Him; He will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry out, or raise His voice, nor make His voice heard in the street. A bruised reed He will not break and a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish; He will faithfully bring about justice. He will not be disheartened or crushed until He has established justice in the earth, and the coastlands will wait expectantly for His law. Thus says God the LORD, Who created the heavens and stretched them out, Who spread out the earth and its offspring, Who gives breath to the people on it And spirit to those who walk in it, I am the LORD, I have called You in righteousness, I will also hold You by the hand and watch over You, And I will appoint You as a covenant to the people, As a light to the nations, To open blind eyes, To bring out prisoners from the dungeon And those who dwell in darkness from the prison. I am the LORD, that is My name; I will not give My glory to another, nor My praise to graven images. Behold, the former things have come to pass, now I declare new things; before they spring forth I proclaim them to you."

EXAMEN.me

2011-06-28T07:01:00.001-07:00

Christ is showing Himself to be completely humble and obedient to God in this picture. If He wanted to, He could kill them all in a flash, He could revenge and show Himself in the manner they wanted, but He knew God's plan, so He endured.

endured...

in that, there is power. The power is not in the display of the might, it was in the display of His refrain. He was about to wage war against evil on our behalf, to die, to go to hell, to conquer both. To bear the punishment of sin forever.

but for now, He had to endure the temporal. His eyes must have been on eternity as He spoke, "But from now on the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God." because He knew, He can't get wrapped up in the temporal anger and temptation to prove Himself, but He had to ENDURE and be made subject to scorn, ridicule, to be seen as weak and pathetic in order to accomplish God's plan to die, and be thrown down to hell...

then... He had all the power of God to rise up and swallow down both, as only He can. Once, and for all. Sin's been dealt with, just believe it.

Luke 22:63-71

I need endurance, I tend to view this life as mine. I tend to want mine, and to be something. Am I willing to be nothing if it will help you understand the precious blood of God as man? ENDURE.

***
Questions I had to ask myself:
Remaining in the word, memorizing, and repetition. Prayer. Eternal fixation, not temporal.

Do I anger easily? Am I demanding answers when I already in my heart know? Am I siding with the world, rather than sometimes being okay with being ridiculed and humiliated for siding with Christ?

Am I okay with defeat from the world because I am confident of the security and peace that I receive from God?

Honesty from the ashes, and some pages in between...

2011-06-22T19:24:00.007-07:00

I'll be pretty honest and open on this one...

Thank you God for friends that are walking in truth and are full of grace, wisdom, and help me process. Thank you God, that it's not easy to hear the answers, and not easy to learn, but that you show us the possibilities of what a humble heart is capable of and how a soft and teachable heart yields results. Thank you for protecting me from myself at times, and give me the strength to be okay in the "alone." For we are never alone, we have Your Spirit...will I but believe it?

Thank you that though I created a false sense of community and belonging, that when I opened my mouth and rambled, you quieted me with the inner stirring's of my heart and helped me bold enough to ask the hard questions, to examine my motives, and to weigh the cost...I'm not selling myself short, rather I'm dying to myself in hopes that You'll be the person they all see. It's grace and dependency, and enablement...I think I'm starting to see that freedom sometimes looks like restraint to others, but I know it's wings of Love I soar upon. Thank you.

Do I regret? No. Let's be found rejoicing, and if you're stuck then try to see that the air you breath will be good enough, "my grace is sufficient for you."-said Christ to a man who struggled and stumbled. Thank you for weakness, and wise men who say; "The greatest characteristic of a saint is humility..."- then yes, please teach me. If your reading this, I wanted to ask all those questions but felt it was better to show restraint, the Lord takes away- and yet He gives to us so freely, does He not?

Thank you for a reminder in Psalm 73, because I was embittered, deaf and dumb, slow to your process and then weak and faint hearted, but you are there. Life and my refuge, my safety and my good. Nothing more than I desire, but to have You, Lord- please make this true. I desire other things, but that's where the beauty keeps humbling me, I sometimes drop the ball, and You remind me of how You give freely to me, and somewhere in that You drop down on me, waves of grace and loving purely, why would I lie? Why would I hide? Why would I retreat, is not this Life worth dying for? Is not Your glory all the story I have to share?

Thank you Lord, that we do have a cross to bear, I'll carry this with me if it is so You can be viewed clearly.

3 cups of coffee, and girl chatter...going strong.

2011-06-17T10:07:00.003-07:00

Enjolie and I got busy with it this morning as we talked with my mom about the importance of knowing yourself, and understanding your personality...before I knew it we were hammering over intense questions and searching our hearts with the intent of being more whole as communicators. I think it's helpful to search ones self and explore the heart and motives within, just as I know it's important to allow the Lord to have complete access to move and change the things which we may have become concrete upon. He shapes us and molds us, but He knows us and made us. Created for His glory, yet a predisposition...wired? ya know, we are a certain way. Anyways, I'm rambling. ENFJ. That was my personality make. Pretty spot on, who would have thought. Interesting.

Ok, not sure where we were going with that...I don't feel like diving in to the nitty gritty, take the test and form your own conclusions. I will comment that as I took the test it occurred to me that we are made in the image of the Lord, so does He not posses all these personality traits- or should I say He is complete and posses' all spiritual gifting in and of Himself? Hmm. Okay, it blew my mind...maybe more so because I'm realizing I'm a bit sleep deprived and hungry...fuel the body, wrestle with the mind more later. And nap. Yes, a nap is always good.

sk

it's bout them bills...

2011-06-16T14:49:00.001-07:00

It's hard for me to push through this week...

I have spent most of the last two months living in my car, or others couches, or in homes that are lavish and vacant and occupied with just me. I've been meeting so many new people, hugging and loving on the old ones, and enjoying the ones here and now. Full time support raising, it stretches your faith, and causes you to really see the dependent enablement I was learning about- dependent on God, enabled by His Spirit.

7 years, and yet they are still pieces of my heart. Theresa still makes me laugh and marvel, her hand holding is natural, her worry, I calm. Kris with a kid!? I'm amazed at her grace, her poise; she's more motherly than I knew. Amber continues to give of herself in such a generous manner, and she influneces me in her clean habits and infectious attitude. Jessie and I, the world which we explore, and we know now this next chapter is more for the Lord to prove Himself strong again, here we go- another adventure. Time with Dani lying on the surfboards, we missed all the surf but I think of how divine it is that the waves in our hometown don't ever break, it makes it so that we can speak d hearing her heart is so important to me. I found family when I looked for funding, and was more blessed in that than any amount of money...

Today...I'm opposed to calling and penning down appointments, though that’s what I am to do, call it losing momentum- or maybe I am just in need of the time out. I'm not really sure if it's due to the fact I've exhausted my contacts, or that I am just really wanting to build a hammock and let my mind indulge in a book, either way...enough Facebook. I'm throwing in the cell, and ditching the car. Today's the kind of day you walk and be quiet, I'll rest and read...I’ll leave the load, and stress over nothing.

I'm halfway to the goal, pray if you pray- then pray for the Lord to provide for me. Pray that I am strong in Him- john 15; remaining in Him….*sigh, I’ll be glad when money is NOT something I have to pray over.

I love taking pics when you think I'm not looking...

2011-06-15T07:29:00.013-07:00

what i read...

2011-05-31T15:17:00.002-07:00

"When we realize that genuine saving faith must be accompanied by genuine repentance for sin, it helps us to understand why some preaching of the gospel has such inadequate results today. If there is no mention of the need for repentance, sometimes the gospel message becomes only, 'Believe in Jesus Christ and be saved' without any mention of repentance at all. But, this watered-down version of the gospel does not ask for a wholehearted commitment to Christ - commitment to Christ, if genuine, must include a commitment to turn from sin. Preaching the need for faith without repentance is preaching only half the gospel. It will result in people being deceived, thinking that they have heard the Christian gospel and tried it, but nothing has happened. They might even say something like, 'I accepted Christ over and over again and it never worked.' Yet they never really did receive Christ as their Savior, for he comes to us in his majesty and invites us to receive him as he is - the one who deserves to be, and demands to be, absolute Lord of our lives as well."

WOW. amen...

post rapture...and lots of ice tea.

2011-05-24T07:00:00.003-07:00

I sat in a dim lit bar with old masks and Mexican art, a jukebox in the corner and the murmur of a baseball game but no one watched. People carried on in their lullaby voices and the music never was too loud. I forgot I was in Houston, I forgot that 5 years had passed. I forgot...nothing. As I weaved the run around the loop I thought surly the road would kill me- who runs these hills? Far from athletic and still striving my mind slipped to days of an old bike and me sitting in an auditorium praying I'd graduate that summer, not being able to bear yet another lecture about a subject I couldn't pretend to care about anymore. I was fragile...and sturdy. In the hub-bub of the afternoon the people break for the allotted lunch times, it was nice to know we were back in the same state, of no hurry and no real agenda-just lounging around and sipping on limitless tea-"so efficient", she said. I joked about the kind of things we found funny- which was everything, and I remembered how effortless it was to just love. I ate up stories of family, adventure, heart ponderings, and all the while slipped in and out of my own love of my family and how much we've grown, and yet nothings changed. I was present...yet a ghost.

Slipping into sleep between two quilts made from the hands of women much stronger than I am, I saw the clock blink 11:01 and wished I was a bit more far along...so impatient I moaned and as I went belly up I dreamed of water and being underneath the waves, I think of the sea in my dreams and know that what's another 5 years anyways, just me...just the sea...

********************************

Enough poetic grumble and mumbles...I wondered why I never stopped to linger on Jesus' words, ya know. It's easy to say: I love Him, He's great! I want to be like Him, and in the 90's we all saw a tragically un-hip slogan unleash a swarm or neon and different textured bracelets that donned an acronym after the man: WWJD?

I'm pretty sure He wouldn't market himself into a cheesy catch phrase, but as I looked at my own life and judged my heart, I found myself saying, well...what the heck would he do with all this crap?? So I hesitantly turned away from the safety of my psalms that made me feel encouraged, or study of the Old Testament where it was easy to say under my breath..."oh THOSE guys need God"...and I knew, I knew that turning to that red print in the Bible would really start messing up my heart and making me feel...well...convicted. Not bad, well a little bad, but more so, it would prompt thinking and that would prompt change, which hopefully would result in doing.

And so it has...I think. So there you have it, in the first chapters, this guy John calling out and instructing the people that a man is coming greater than he, who will not be a guy just sprinkling you with water- but give you His Spirit, the Spirit of God, a Spirit of Power. But the line that came from John's mouth that hit on my heart was, "Therefore bring forth fruit in keeping with repentance...” He's addressing the hypocrites and the religious arrogant elite, and yet I felt like he leapt up and pointed a finger at me and said, "Orrell, walk in a repentative manner."...eek. Ok, I thought. I realized I had been a bit on auto pilot mode and had not wanted to be humble. I wanted to be rock star, but the reality is 99.9% I need a re-adjustment, and the 1% I don't, I’m sleeping. I need to be mindful of my inability, and of God's capability. Of His Spirit, His power, His love...that needs to infest and lock down on my heart, that needs to ground me. I am to humbly walk in a way that constantly points to His greatness and there is found peace, and there is found Life.
So I scanned more of the red letters and was hit by another passage that wrecked my heart and yet cleared my head...
Jesus talks to the crowd and speaks about light saying, "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do men light a lamp, and put it under the peck-measure, but on the lamp stand; and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father in Heaven."

Two things about this rushed my mind.
First, I was reminded of my friend's story just two nights ago when sitting in that bar- He mentioned how he had gone dark, and we sat there comparing gloom stories of when we totally took our eyes of Christ and just tried to make it on our own accord. He said something so profound about how his brother had been a light. His own sibling was living contrary to his gloom and selfish revolving door of a life, and so when he was around his bro he felt exposed, he felt the dark areas of his life were seen as what they truly are, not just shadowy and kept in the corners, but they were being brought forward and he could see them for what they really were, resistance against God, rebellion and a heart wandering. His own brother was the agent of light, and was what helped him realize his need for the Lord, his weariness of doing the same thing day after day and having no purpose and joy...Interesting I thought, that we being a light can help the unsuspecting, those that lie in darkness...

The second thing that humbled my do-gooder arrogant heart was that it's NOT for YOUR glory. “Guess what Ms.Selfish pants”, my brain said, “it ain't about you”...No, rather- when we let our light shine, when we let the Holy Spirit within us live and we act accordingly and in submission, our work is good, our perspective is clear, and we are alive to God and HE IS GLORIFIED. People shouldn't look at us and go- wow, that person is just sooo great, or he has it all together, no...Instead a true light giver is prompting the perspective and praise to fall upon the source- the LORD. I hope that any glimmer of light in this person causes a true worship of the One who is Light Himself, that they praise and wonder after Him. That they seek Him, desire Him, long for Him, find Him and love Him...

I always thought I wanted the praise, the love, to be the desired...it means nothing though, because I know the secret. And the secret is I am nothing without Christ.

End of story.

I'll read more red letters later, my head hurts.

A message to You, from the stamp of my heart.

2011-05-09T18:20:00.004-07:00

I wish...

I had the discipline to be a monk,
the intellect to be a scholar,
and the courage to be a rockstar.

I want...

The days to be carefree,
the laughter to be often,
and the SON to always shine on me.

I wake...

Everyday a little more different,
with funny reminisces of dreams,
and the uncertainty of everything.

I wonder...

When I will run again,
what does that even look like,
and how do we know that we've arrived?

I within...

Myself am chattering away,
dialoguing my every step of the day,
and still so sensitive to all the others.

I will...

Stand a little taller,
ask a bit more bolder,
and always be in need of grace.

I wait...

For the answers to so many questions,
stepping over all the ditches on a narrow path,
and taking note of the map written on my heart.

I wish and wanted to wake the wonder within for then I will be...better.

...but not today, friend, not today.

Mountain tops of BANG!kok and the sea of uncertainty...

2011-05-06T07:23:00.005-07:00

My heart is sick and withering inside myself, it's time to write I think... i think.

Did I love? Not enough, not enough I think...I know.

I come closer to reality in the Word, in truth, and then I run because it's so me. To run. NO, that’s a lie.

When I was 19 I wrote in a very practical journal with leather arms sent from a boy that said he loved me, but I never said it back, I stared at mountain sides and lived in a canyon cleaning rooms for tips and wishing I had a car of my own that would drive me in town where I'd get cell phone reception and call another boy to let him know I was healthy and better off without him. I wrote down all my thoughts that summer of life, and mishaps, of all my many mistakes. I drew pictures of color and inspiration, it was youthful, sad stories of rebellion, which broke my heart-I played the part, teenage angst before there was a Pandora emo section. Somewhere in the midst of my supposed pain, the TRUTH resonated over me and won out all my hollow arguments, reminded me of eternal inheritance, woke me up to it's beauty deep inside me, all around me. When I was 23 I tattooed my journals theme on my wrists to help me remember what LIFE really is, how you can't be alive if you're a perpetual sinner consumed with you- hubris. But to enslave myself to LOVE, to JUSTICE, to know that peace, wash over me.

I sat on a deck about to take off. Leaving the small country and my room mates of three, I looked at the water and felt the gnawing pain that it was all over before it started. I'll never speak of it, I thought- but I'm into breaking silence if it will help you understand. RUN. Run this race, but I've lost my pace, no- not my faith, just dusty and a little creaky. I was busy living like mad, all over the place- trying to get a better grip on my faith. The tides always change when I think I have it figured out. I should learn from my old man, you can't calculate the LORD, you just free fall. Dreams were lost at sea and I never was more transparent than in that moment, when I collapsed on the rug of my mothers house and told her how I'd foolishly run my mouth, damage done...and I was left to feel abandoned. So I cried LORD, your will be done. When I look back, I did get up. I didn’t quit. Somehow, the snow came and that red bird perched ever so confidently and I recalled YOUR voice, I LOVE YOU MORE THAN THE BIRDS. And so I knew, what was through was through- but I was different. The day my heart was broke, it really was soft, fertilized with TRUTH molded to HIS liking, peace in me.

I wear a pendant around my neck today, filled with swirls of green and yellow- black and with blue inners stained deep. Gold chain, frail and thin. I tap the picture of a man who was younger than I ever knew him to be and I fancy his suit, he looks stoic..that’s when I notice my nailpolish is chipped and I lack a tan. My hair cut un even and my eyes still sore. I feel out of whack and in disorder- did I shower? The days keep playing like an old record, worn out they drone on. Feeling fatigued at my inability to get a grip and just put my heart where my mouth is, "He provides." "He is to be trusted." "He is enough." But I want a pay stub, or some motivation. I need new friends, I think. Or hair? Maybe if I just run more, and eat only protein? Maybe if I dress in brand names, or take up smoking?...what a joke. I dreamed that I wasn't in my body, but at home with the LORD. I woke up this morning suffocating into a much to plush pillow and as I rolled to my back, had to realign myself, and then HIS whisper in my head, child-this day is a gift. Yet I want to keep busy instead. Opened an email and my mothers words typed out at me, daughter- believe in YOUR KING. Ahh the prayer caused a pause- just long enough, and TRUTH rumbled inside my weakened chest. I was made for an eternity of this, simple worship...praise my KING. Rejoice, I remembered as the SAVIOR beckoned, and so this mind rejuvenated, peace claiming my thoughts and rearranging…peace.

19, 23, 27...age is nothing, the season's keep changing. The course laid down is ever so narrow and the sea will rage.

Did I love? Not enough...so grow it God deep inside of me. What is love, GOD Himself? Yes, that is the reality- Apart from you, LORD, I have nothing else.

It goes on and on and on...

2011-04-28T18:42:00.002-07:00

The loss of both of my Grandfathers within months of one another prompted both these ditties below. Pass them on family. They were men who were loved, respected, and looked up to...and more importantly they were men of faith in Christ. I have no regrets, my time with them was special and helped me be molded into the woman I am. Their new birth reminds me of the urgency of embracing those here and now, the wonderful gift of life we have, and yes- it is a GIFT...no matter how crappy a day you may be having, no matter how dark it seems. We make a choice- choose who you'll serve. Live full, serve God. Love loudly, and hold nothing back. Take it to the streets, this goes out to the old men: Orrell, and a Rust.

Blue Eyes

(In loving memory of Maury Neil Orrell)
As the cold air blew across our faces, Santa Fe of all places.
I traced my tears down my cheeks, gazing on the Nation's flag- meeting the eyes of my very Dad.
How'd we get here? How time slips us by, the Lord called home another solider from this life, a little frailer, seasoned years, and carried on in the heart of the widow of 60yrs.
Blue Eyes ever piercing.
I wonder silently inside my self, how'd he come into this world? Was he robust and loud? Healthy and proud?..a sickly babe?-I'd think not. As a child I knew him strong, as an adult I saw him sturdy. Strong hands and booming voice that beckons with authority.
Blue Eyes ever piercing.
He'd make you eat, though you're not quite hungry. "Speak UP kid", "write MORE", "Be who YOU are," and "STAND UP STRAIGHT", "NEVER hesitate!"- Confident man and proud of his two sons.
Blue Eyes ever piercing.
Defiant at times, but still the gentle giant. My father called him fair and just, a provider, a good father, a constant force, but I knew him as Papa...Papa who laughed at my silly mannerisms calling them Sandyisms.
Blue Eyes ever piercing.
I loved him as a child and it was he who taught me the pain of sacrifice. Of a war so distant, yet his reality, he reminded me of the human condition and of living upright in every situation.
Blue Eyes ever piercing.
Showing scars and pictures, reminiscing of times when men bleed and fought for the better story and not for greed or glory. To think he was a teen and yet came back to coach little league. There around the table, sharp and thoughtful, my Papa the quiet solid man with strong hands.
Blue Eyes ever piercing.
The child I am, now a woman who watched her hero go, bald and white, getting small and yet his hands still firm, strong and a voice of discernment.
How thankful I am for those hands that built us a rich, good life for the many future generations. He was loved as a Papa, respected sometimes strict and firm, but never without purpose. How I love that the Lord was his and happy is his resting now, for that I'm certain, Papa would be proud.
Blue Eyes ever piercing.
I woke up this morning with the mountains toward my back and the New Mexico dry air chilling over my body in waves. Caught a glimpse of myself in the old mirror and realized Papa is with me, my eyes are his...BLUE EYES ever piercing.

**************

Sundaes and Life Lessons

(In loving memory of Richard Frederick Rust)
Granddad,
I'll tell you a story...
of how I loved your silly words and the way you'd write me letters in all caps, like a doctor with all that chicken scratch. Did you know I loved your scent? You smelled of earth and coffee, cigarettes. We laugh- generations new and old, of all the foolery to be told, of you with gadgets and temper that flared, of you with wild ideas and high dreams of lofty expectations. But how I loved you, and how I respect you-hardworking and loving, a wise night owl- tell me more of your philosophies by ice cream and the glow of the TV. I watch the classics and think of what you'd do different, nothing I think, your life looked perfect. How funny to think you left us so suddenly, just like you to go out with a bang- "CAPITAL-CAPITAL"...we will whisper to an unmarked grave. Silly rhymes and funny phrases- you were full of joy that was contagious. On Sunday's we'll eat steak and you'll gleam over us in the pool, youthful and loud- I know we make you proud. My kind, loving Granddad, you told me much by looking at your eyes. You loved without restraint, even when it went against the grain. Not a resentful bone in your body, a quiet understanding of the world's depravity and a solid answer: Jesus Christ...and yes, more pie.

Take your desserts and exocentric flair; you get on up outta of here! I hear you make the angels laugh. I hear God gave you deep and satisfying breaths. Is it true that you don't get cold? I'd love to see you when we're whole and restored. Such a slick man, such a swell Granddaddy, you live on in each one of our 8 smiles, with our jests and jabs and our infectious laughs. Gee we miss you, but I'm glad you're home- praising Jesus on His throne.

My Stay

2011-03-10T18:25:00.003-08:00

Do you ever think about what it will be like . . .

I do.

"...But the Lord was my stay." Psalm 18:18

"what do you want to be when you grow up?"

2011-03-10T09:55:00.004-08:00

White eyes with the blue ocean looking at me...I was stoned on youth and drank of ignorance before I left the city. Had my home on my back since I was 6; because you aren't a citizen of a kingdom that they refuse to let co-exist.

I birthed my own ways and had harvests of confusion- crop circles that told stories of distress and frivolous inventions. I thought I loved him, and him, and that one, and them and him...but what is love without HIM.

The music box that sings my hearts beat when the rays hit the solar panel, sunlight does the same to my mother's daughter, I watch her existentially as she bursts into song as the rays hit her skin.

What was I like when you knew me last? Was I shy and reserved? Was I loud and affirming? Was in love or bickering with it, was I passionately consumed with the art of others or the art of self? Did I tell you lie after lie? Did I tell you TRUTH? Could you see my scars or was it fruit? If I opened my heart to your inquiring mind- did you judge me then or will you fault me now?

What did you see when you looked at me...write on a napkin and wipe away the day’s meal as you send it US post mail.

I look through the mirror at the possibility of what could be. I missed the mark, but so I am again- restart.

The great old man's travel book in my lap, making creases on my chubby knees and I think my fingers were a bit to sticky for such glossy pages. Filled with round, square, red, black, white, funny faces and noble ones as well. Faces of old and young and tall and frail and all of them with such different eyes, they told me stories though I couldn't read. Of a thousand lives that were scattered over seas and mountains and valleys I never knew or visited, but our eyes were ours and they spoke to me. And as I slept though just a babe, I dreamed their eyes would let me in and see their music boxes, their fears, and their precious dreams...on their seas….on their mountains…..on their valleys...

Oh why do we wake? Sleep babe...sticky fingers and my home in my head.

a love song not about love at all ...

2011-03-01T12:34:00.004-08:00

When I lived overseas and taught English I heard a loop of the same pop songs for a year- they changed, but not often. I became a pro at the Soulja boy lyrics and of course Alicia Key's who just kept falling in love...but this particular song would get my toes tapping and even now when I hear it I'm flooded with homey and warm memories that wash over the corners of my mind and cover my heart. Memory's of pleading with the Lord that Ryota, Kazuma, and Kakeru wouldn't make me loose my mind and somehow we could get done with class with little to no bleeding, and no complaints of them screaming the ABC'S while perched on the edge of the table and diving into the kid toys that we piled high to help break our fall.

Or the memory of the worn map that had pins on my hometown and tracing it along with my finger as I recalled that Mom would be asleep in Texas and I wondered if she knew that I missed her and Dad and wished they could sit in on class because I think they'd like it.

Memories of the old, tiny house downstairs and how drafty it was but it was serene and full of laughter by the time Shingo got there and took everyone by surprise with his odd ball behavior and silly off topic comments.

The day Nanako finally opened up and when she formed an allegiance with Momoko and together they learned that English could be fun and they didn't have to hide in their shyness- they could fight back and win the battles against the boys and walk away with the most candy that day.

Snow. Buses. Trains. Chu-hi's.

Always ALWAYS ripping my pantyhose before I got to the business classes, and always apologizing and feeling flustered for the marker mess or the non traditional manner in which we learned which always involved me being too loud, or under a table...ha. My friends, hating the phone when it rang at school...and hating it more when I had to answer in my crappy Japanese. Mycal Kuwana, Kuwana, visiting Kate in Yokkiachi and wondering where she lived in the pile of all her stuff- realizing the day when her pile of stuff was comforting and loving nights in watching British TV shows and hearing her laugh at my ridiculous manners and ideas of life. Hot dogs in the metal trailer across my house.

I get nostalgic, sure. But I also am good at looking up and thinking wow- look at it today. Today it feels more like spring, like it may be leaning to summer. I'm ready for the heat so I can be justified in long swims and less clothing, and barefoot! I see a lot of tattoos and less suits than Japan, and if I jump in a pool of water with out my clothes it's because my friends and I are being reckless and wild- not because we're partaking in some traditional relaxation method. My phone sucks, far from the mini robot I felt like I had overseas, but it does just the job to hammer out a text: what u doing? lets hang?

I'm ready for an adventure of a different kind. I'm praying for fearless ambition and direction. The banner over me today is love, more specifically Christ... and man...they're playing that song.

"Love Song"

Head under water
And they tell me to breathe easy for a while
The breathing gets harder, even I know that
Made room for me but it's too soon to see
If I'm happy in your hands

I'm unusually hard to hold on to
Blank stares at blank pages
No easy way to say this
You mean well, but you make this hard on me
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
Make or break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
Reason to write you a love song today

I learned the hard way
That they all say things you want to hear
And my heavy heart sinks deep down under you and
Your twisted words,
Your help just hurts
You are not what I thought you were
Hello to high and dry
Convinced me to please you
Made me think that I need this too
I'm trying to let you hear me as I am

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
Make or break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
Reason to write you a love song today

Promise me that you'll leave the light on
To help me see with daylight, my guide, gone
'cause I believe there's a way you can love me
Because I say
I won't write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or break in this
Is that why you wanted a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If your heart is nowhere in it
I don't want it for a minute
Babe, I'll walk the seven seas when I believe that
There's a reason to
Write you a love song today

The smallest glow...

2011-02-15T15:43:00.004-08:00

Here we go now…

The downs.
Man, it's been a rough 2011. Already I've lost my Grandfather so unexpectedly. He was such a gentle man, and he is remembered fondly by me, and the rest of the family. My heart surges with sadness, but an eerie peace because I was so blessed to have a man of that caliber to be my grandfather- he loved us. I feel the weight of the world as I still have no set job or "career" and I feel aimless- I feel absolutely crazed as I teeter to and fro from liberating joy and peace, and then the waves of unruly doubt, uncertainty-fear. I know I am beginning to really stress out the folks, which in turn stresses me as I can feel their anxious words with each phone call wanting to know what exactly their brilliant daughter of 27 has up her sleeve this time. I've been called into action to be a shoulder to cry on, when I myself could not hold my head up, and many of my friends and family are in the midst’s of their biggest trials, and I feel incapable of supporting them because I too feel so weak, and narrow in my mind....and I still hate math. Yes, somehow that last part is relevant. Darn those numbers.

Waaaahhhh. I sound pathetic even to myself- tisk, tisk.

Let's continue though. Here's the dealio...I have seen a direct correlation between my behavior, my state of despair if you will, and my lack of God. Seriously. I wake up, mumble my thanks to God, and then blaze forward in my agenda. My agenda lands me grumpy, in front of the TV, and wondering why I'm watching the same episode of 90210 of yesterday. Really? As if I don’t already know that Steve is going to get even with that stupid frat brother, and Kelly will sleep with Luke-while Donna stills insists on pulling the V-card with Brian who clearly does really love her, but ultimately, it is really just about sex. Wow. I think I hit a new low.

Onward to God.
I prayed a long time ago to die to myself in every way because I saw that even on my best day; I still couldn't seem to pull it together- always some kind of motive or selfish maneuver, that prayer has resurfaced over the years and now needs to be once more proclaimed, not mumbled. My favorite moments as a child, and even into my teens (dare I even say now), are the moments when my Dad forgets I am a child, and talks to me as if I'm a sounding board, as if my opinion mattered, or even just as though I wasn't there due to the honesty of his words. I remember a late night and we were up in the old house back in Corpus, I must have been only 12, and he said, "Ya know kiddo, lately I feel like God's been telling me something." Because God so often I guess just rolled up and was like, "Hey Dave, jump in- let's have a chat." I kept quiet eating my late night snack, a cold pop tart and milk. He continued, "God just told me, 'Dave, your fat and lazy.'" Nice.-I thought, leave it to God to really build up the self esteem. Later my dad launched into some series of habits that were in his life that had caused him to be spiritually fat and lazy, and as a result he was growing physically fat and lazy. Ouch. But I saw my Dad over the course of a few weeks really change. He no longer launched my math book at the window when helping my understand (me being a c-average in the math department still baffle’s him as he is a mathematician, chemical wizard). I’d hear the clank of gym equipment early hours and observed that he’d been consistent in working out, eating better, and his Bible was lying around a lot more open and with tons of notes. He took the whisper and he ran out the necessary discipline steps. I saw the fat, lazy man become a man who was fit and active in my life, both spiritually and physically.

Though the initial truth hurt, he took it to heart, and he changed. Dare I say what God has been saying to me? Like my father, God talks to me too, but it's not the way I imagined like when I was a kid and he'd cruise in a purple viper convertible with my dad enjoying the sun as he says, "and another thing Dave, raise the kid's allowances and be a bit lenient with that curfew thing."...no but it's through the Spirit. The powerful Spirit which lives inside me and seems to whisper helpful, corrective words, which I choose to regard or disregard. That Spirit made possible because of Christ, often gets muffled by my agenda and sadly is sometimes only a whisper on the wind within my life.

The Spirit filled life, a life of adventure and uncertainty.
I finished reading the entire book of Acts, jotting down summary notes and trying to visualize it inside my head. I've come to the conclusion that Paul is crazy, and men are in fact super emotional, and that religion is so crappy. Yet if you asked me to really summarize it, I'd say that the book of Acts is the story of the Spirit. It's His book; man does He take the role.

Everything the early church (and to clarify, church is referring to the men and women who believed in Christ as the Son of and of his death and resurrection, not an actual building or institution, or set of rigid rules which is referred to as LAW), but these men and women were lead in BOLD, often aggressive, and leading in counter-cultural ways...lead by the Spirit. That Spirit which lead Paul and Barnabas on important mission journeys where people received physical healing, and spiritual insight. That same Spirit encouraged people to look beyond the words of a page and live liberated and selfless lives. That Spirit healed all disease, aches, life long bondage, and even death. That Spirit could be trusted, was loud, unpredictable, and yet, sound in all ways. That Spirit came as fire and lit people's hearts ablaze with a love that began infectiously changing the world around them.

I closed the book and thought it strange that the same fire, the Spirit is also inside me. He doesn't run rampant though, the flames devouring my pride and insecurities, but I think that is only because I won’t let Him go untamed. He's a flicker, but He is there. I thought of the verses in the Word that instruct us to be careful and mindful of the Spirit, to fan the flame, or the gift which is God’s Spirit. How have I fanned the flame? I could sit and list all the things I've done over the last few days and it would really not be considered a fanning of the flame how to lesson. I ate, watched TV, ate, drove around, complained, ate more TV, job search, complain, ate, and end the night with more TV. It's no wonder the Spirit is just a simple whisper to my untrained ear, I haven't fanned the flame in my life, and I have grown unfamiliar to His voice.

I don't want a flicker. I want a freaking forest fire people.

God’s voice.
So what has the Spirit been saying? December 28th 2010, I heard the Spirit whisper, deaf, dumb, and slow. Harsh, isn’t it? - But accurate. I have gotten myself into old habits of being idle, of being slow to listen and act when God tells me, and I have filled my head with others opinions, ideas, and theologies than take my cues from God. Therefore I've grown deaf to His ways. I've enjoyed TV over His word, or just driving aimlessly (meant both figuratively and physically), and so I have been digressing in my understanding of Him, and the lights get dim.

It's bleak when the lights are dim. You see, life still happens, whether we want it to or not. So things like death, injury, unexpected set backs, bills, severed friendships, accidents, or monumental failures still come our way. But if the Spirit has not been fanned, then you're more prone to fall into deadly D's- despair, depression, dejection, denial even. You feel crazed and unable to cope, or you look for methods and things apart from God because they do feel more natural, they are more immediate, but they just never seem to do the trick. We forget the words of Paul when he says, “Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. Do everything in love.” (2 cor.16.13-14) We forget that we have a reason to be on guard, that there are real forces against us. We forget the need to be strong and courageous, so we grow weak and fearful…and then we forget real love. How is it that I can love when I forget the love the Father has for me? “For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died” (2cor.5.14). So you have to turn back to the source, you’ve gotta go to God.

Maybe I'm writing to myself, but a friend reminded me of James' words: “Do not merely listen to the Word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the Word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, immediately forgets what he looks like. (James 1.22-24). And then I also thought on the verse where Paul chimes in and say's, “You were running a good race. Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth? That kind of persuasion does not come from the one who calls you.” (Gal.5.7-8)

My point exactly, I know why I got caught off, and I know why I have been living as though I can't recall who I am...because I didn't just stop and pause these last few mornings and began to fan that flame within me...I didn’t stop when I heard the whisper, and ask that He make Himself more bold in my life. I didn’t trust the Spirit when life came rolling my way, instead I retreated because it felt safe…even if my safety meant wearing the chains and shackles of sin again.

Cue Adventure!
When I was young my best friend Mandy Bryant and I spent hours morphing the world around us into whatever intricate adventure we felt like embarking on that day. Be it the jungle ladies on the mission to discover a cure for some sickness through the means of an exotic bird, or as we scavenged the lands on our remote desert island to find precious resources to aid in our survival, whatever it was- it had to be ADVENTURE. We weren’t impressed with dolls and toys; we could care less about TV and pop culture, surely only adding to our odd ball nature. We craved adventure, far away lands, and funny names of places we could only dream of. Funny that my childhood dreamed of that day when I could live out my adventure, and take those leaps of risk, and yet I find that I have built walls of comfort that God is constantly trying to rid me of. So the Spirit called me deaf, dumb, and slow….and now He starts to whisper a different course of action, one that calls me forward to boldly trust Him in all the uncertainty, to be certain that my adventure with Him will not be in vain and will be used for God’s fame. As the walls of my secure little life start crumbling down I realize now is the time for adventure…So I have a choice, I choose to fan the flicker in hopes that it will indeed be so much more of a flame.

FOR THIS REASON I REMIND YOU TO FAN INTO FLAME THE GIFT OF GOD, WHICH IS IN YOU THROUGH THE LAYING ON OF MY HANDS. FOR GOD DI NOT GIVE US A SPIRIT OF TIMIDITY, BUT A SPIRIT OF POWER, OF LOVE, AMD OF SELF-DISCIPLINE. (2tim.1.6)

Painting the walls of your heart

2011-01-01T14:54:00.005-08:00

Still alive. Just been enjoying writing on paper more and more, and analyzing my every movement less and less. The house is occupied once more, and it's a nice feeling. I have ridiculous friends, one's that threaten to punch me if I don't drive four hours to see them, one's that txt me in the wee hours of the night, one's that allow me to stay in my "no-pants-pants" and eating Indian food while sipping what we think may be the worst wine ever but we sip anyways.

I talked to a friend a few days who told me of this book he read when he was younger. The book started in the middle of the character's journey and as the character struggled to understand his mission, the destination laid on his heart- he set out firm, steadfast. The boy of course encounters a myriad of complex, interesting characters...some needy, some helpful, some more a threat or a distraction. When the character finally comes to his destination and enter the tower he's been pinning after he throws open the door and...

the book returns to the very first line of the book.

I sat there and listened as my friend explained the book was about the journey, the actions and the way in which the character performed his movements, it's about all the stops along the way, how he interacted with what we the reader saw as minor characters. The journey in itself is an important story.

I'm on a journey. I pine away for something deep inside me. Sometimes it gets confusing, misconstrued, deluded....sometimes I just sit down on the road and sigh and think it's all over and done. It's not. The thing I long for is the road that is already under my feet, the air already in my lungs, the day that's been given. I'll walk a little more confidently not because I'm so sure I'll arrive at that alleged place of rest or perfection, but because I know it's all the little moments and movements that matter. I can't ignore the process and movement of God's hands in and around my life. How beautiful it is when I realize He calls me beloved and paves the path, and not because I did anything, not because I am something, or someone. I'm just a girl who will continue to enjoy the journey, and laugh a little louder, sing a little more off-key, and dance to feel my body move. I'll remind myself when it's hard it's good because it will give me more opportunity to lean into His strength, when it's sad- my tears never fall off my face unnoticed, and when it's lonely it's but a feeling that does pass, and He always waits it out long enough for me to recall He's sitting down next to me whispering, "Mine."

I decided that tomorrow's a good day to ride a rollercoaster with some friends, to talk to a stranger, and maybe just to allow myself to forget about what I look like, or how much money I'm making or not making. To just let all those big towers fade to the background and to stomp, or leap, skip, or run on the path under my feet and yell out the good news to those around me...

it's a journey. Let Him lead…Still alive.

xoxo
happy new year to you-sk

take it all out on the trees.

2010-11-02T19:09:00.003-07:00

THESE KEYS
I wear around my neck. Open your eyes when you're wide awake, but we're stumbling to foreign beats.
Red head fantasy, take the best parts of me-weaved out on the map with the orange thread. Count down and then there was me
these keys.
The Locksmith with the gentle laugh, but my hands are still dry so I keep them in tiny pockets while I wait till they take the stage.
It burned to the ground, no more sounds, and these keys outlasted what I thougt to be the beginning
these keys.
Hollow laughter of days past as I watch your beer escape the glass. I never allowed you in, I'm too much like my Father they say- a realist who know's were all on the way out. But as winter comes my cold skin melts and the steel I feel comes from within
these keys.
My heart locked away in old mugs of coffee, in landscapes I see in bed, in the laughter of my sweet friend, as I run the scenary gets clearer. He feels out my gears and refines the rusted parts. With a lone ranger appeal I wither but not so when I turn the lock on this door open.
Oh these keys.

please remember friends...

2010-09-23T17:36:00.001-07:00

Exodus

like a vine, help me grow intertwined
the sweetest fruit I will bear
-if from your hand with such tender care.

vine, vine, wrap around the tree
source of LIFE be all for me,
and like a vine- help me break free with roots buried deep.

Oh vine! hold on now!
push toward the sun these rocks and
walls seem far too tall but
vine, vine, your beauty, your force
will run its course in the ONE
in the SON.

So he said to me today among the chaos,
“abide in me, and I in you. as the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in me.”
and I stood amazed at his endless grace.

9-17-2010

2010-09-18T21:19:00.003-07:00

Intense.
The only word to describe what I'm thinking and feeling all over me. I rode my bike around this bend and saw a homeless man walking around aimlessly and then a stalled vehicle, the couple looked heated and ticked at the situation-understandable. I can't remember the exact time, whether it was Hurricane Katrina, or one of the smaller Hurricanes from my childhood but I recalled a woman's face that played on the screen during the news- she froze on my mind and I remember thinking she had every reason to cry because her roof was caved in, and why would you want a house with the roof all like that? People who had life dealt to them, and then me on the bike yesterday- dealing out my own card of self misery. I have no one to blame but myself.

I'm a liar.

I leaned the bike against two green dumpsters, spent my afternoon tip money on a late matinee movie, and put a handful of odd candies in my pocket. I sat alone in the front row sprawled out, praying someone would lift my bike and give me an excuse to buy the pretty steel looking one with light blue I saw in the window.

The bike was there when the movie let out, and the clouds were turning black by then. I peddled and beat all the wind and rain and sat there staring at Jim with the most ridiculously onion saturated chili dog I have ever seen. I thought about pop rocks and being 15...or 16...17...or even 18.

I'll be 27 this November and I always remember what I wear each birthday and what color my hair is. Yet I left two of those candies in the right pocket of my shorts and was shocked when my fingers came out all sticky and covered in chocolate.

Anger has been creeping into my thoughts-snippy little comments that weave their way and make a man’s soul want black and red, those colors of rage I guess. I haven't been resting much lately, and my chest feels like a ticking time bomb- just moments away from exploding within my walls of flesh. I may emotionally vomit, or vent, rant, pitch a fit, or cry. None of it is very becoming, lady-like, and certainly not very mature for that matter. I don't know why it's so hard for me to commit to something and run after it; don’t provide your remedies please. I'm frail this season and fresh out of wit, so allow me to hide and go movie dates alone with a little bit of mischief on my brain. I daydreamed for the better half of the movie but caught the important basic plot outline, predictable and with a happy ending. Just sunshine and teens, with a soundtrack that can’t really be labeled epic, or noteworthy.

I applied for a position as a "parent support specialist" and then envisioned the woman with no roof and the man wandering around muttering to himself in his rags, and the enraged couple that was vehicle-less and thought...why can't I look up today?

Calendars and clocks and the things I forgot…

2010-09-14T14:12:00.001-07:00

I’m ambushed with things lately, and contemplating time. I’ve decided that I find it unhealthy to believe in time, and operating like it is real is exhausting and misleading. Instead I’m going to go to bed when I’m tired or know I’ll need the rest for what’s required of me at my job-or in play, I’ll eat when my stomach growls, and I’m giving up on counting down the days…till what?
I’ll play within the game of time only when it concerns others, but as far as I’m concerned we’re getting a divorce the two of us. Life is seasons, or tides, or what God chooses to give to me for the moment, but not in betted or sandwiched into some neat little time continuum, that doesn’t exist- because I don’t believe in it quite frankly.

I thoroughly enjoy my mother’s prayers. She prays what I need, what I was thinking but couldn’t articulate, and she reminds me in her gracious way of living what it must look like to be ripe with the Lord and be steadfast of His promises, not so much of this muddied eyed girl who looks on the world wanting to sometimes find a place in it. I used to want my piece, I used to want my fill, I used to want my way-then a way out, I used to want to destroy, I used to want to rebuild, and I used to want my time…now I just want to not to want. . . it’s all falling out the back of mind today.
I drove to work in the dark and thought about the concept of losing one’s mind- in particular, of losing my own. What if that’s what it took for me to stop and recognize that I really am a piece of dust? Like Nebuchadnezzar, the crazy King who went mad only to return and declare that his madness wasn’t in vain- it served it’s purpose, it showed that he was a fool and that God is the One who is sane. Men are crazy, we are mad.

I did go crazy today. I ran on emotions and operated in a typical forceful manner. I didn’t challenge or triumph in the Spirit- or refresh my mind with psalms or praise. I was stale and hollow with a smile and I kissed the faces of each person with dancing eyes, but they were really dodge and darting- girls, we are so misleading. In the heat of my car as I drove I thought of love and how little I can do it…how little I show. I think I’ve felt what the poet calls heart ache, or the break, that familiar sorrow we all know that makes everything go silent and numb. I felt it once for sure at the pass of a friend so suddenly, and again when I lost my best friend more gradually. But this was different, I sat thinking of a God who takes the time to bend down and touch me gently after I’ve slammed His hand away again. I cried and caught a glimpse of my mascara cascading down my cheek caught in a tiny pearl of a tear, staining it a subtle gray line. As the tears ran off my chin they hit my skirt black. “Black tears”, I thought, with the sun beaming in…it must be time for lunch.

Reduce, Reuse, Remember?

2010-08-14T06:51:00.003-07:00

Confession: I don't always throw the aluminum cans in the correct bin. In Japan sometimes I'd even misplace the waste and it would end up in the non combustible piles. At times I've noticed that my room mate will dig through the garbage to fish out a coke can or plastic container I chunked in with the waste. I always think, "crap-yea...recycle." But, I live in the moment and often as I rush around in the morning I throw the can over my shoulder with ease rather than bothering myself to open the garage door and walk my butt outside to dispose of it in the large blue recycling bin.

Careless. I recycle when I want to, and I do it if convenient.

I noticed a disturbing trend, most people do this...and I'll go even deeper- Most people treat God like this. (the slap in the face is also called conviction- don't worry I already got one too). God is at my disposal, ready for me whenever I feel like it. This analogy doesn't tie in nicely to the recycling scenario, it's just that I was reading this morning and remembered I left a Sprite can in the trash bin again...and my how my mind wanders. I wanted to spend the morning brewing over my failures, pulling emo strands out of my thick layers of chatter, and sulking over breakfast coffee and pastries. Instead I feel the Lord saying, "Magnify me." "So, no cinnamon roll then?"-I thought.

No it's not about the roll, it goes toward heart issues and deeper matters, that I know. Instead of writing my rants and philosophizing around in circles in my head, I thought it’d be good to read some dead dude's smart words about God. I chose Tozer, he’s dead enough I thought to be labeled wise, and I was pretty confident he’d have some insight. So I googled him and wa-la:
"How deeply do men err who conceive of God as subject to our human will or as standing respectfully to wait upon our human pleasure."-Tozer
Inspired by the Holy Spirit, and lead to this verse in Isaiah:
"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; / the whole earth is full of his glory." Isaiah 6:3
…and so he goes on to write what I already felt. I thrust upon God and demand that we spend time together in my form or fashion when I feel guilty, or in need of something spiritual, but I can easily throw Him over my shoulder with the garbage of my life and make Him a mere subject that I discuss rather than the source of my life and energies, the root of my joy, the author of my story.

How sad. How awful.

But today isn't intellectual stabbing in the dark day-over caffeine and pretentious ideas that I like to play upon...today is about getting another day to say thanks, I don't deserve You, Lord, but I have You. -and then I set out trying to put into action things that will promote His magnification in my life...
So I go to the source.
I opened up Isaiah and went to ch.43. A favorite of mine, and I think- “yay, let's get encouraged and look at how it speaks to me about being free, safe, loved, and then wait....what...what the..?!?”
vs.22 "Yet you have not called upon me, O Jacob, you have not wearied yourselves for me, O Israel."
Slap in the face #2. It goes on to speak of sacrifice and honoring God, unfortunately the people have chosen instead to burden God and have wearied Him with their defiance. When's the last time I have worn myself out for the Lord? ...or am I being defiant in a wearisome manner?

Eyes on Him…He is merciful. He is good.

I have a sneaking suspicion that as I strive to weary myself for His purpose He will bless me with more of Him and a better understanding for His love. It is after all His love that compels us, is it not? Maybe I’ll go home and get that dumb sprite can…

-sk

Jacques Brel - ne me quitte pas (subtitulos español)

2010-07-19T18:22:00.000-07:00

I should learn french.

Rory LaRue

2010-07-14T05:49:00.002-07:00

in you we are so proud. Not by what you do, but your candle bud burns bright, on a face of glamour and for a soul of solitude you sing like the ocean and yet you sound so plain-like a slow...dribble...from....the....broken....faucet... when you speak, "Maaan, Duuude..."

Steel walls of ice restrain you. You wearing white when we first met, now you're always in black. I search the tree for your bike and find only the chain left. Turn back the days and rewrite your ways, maybe we'd be Mr.& Mrs. LaRue- full of smoke in our lungs and having matching ice cream grins.

But no one knows Rory LaRue, the boy who always seemed so blue,
maybe because he, and he alone, understood the silent earth...and all her groans.

Wowie Zowie....not the CD...

2010-07-09T05:34:00.001-07:00

Taken from TLT, Setting Captives Free Ministries….
“Next, note that Jesus was heard by His Father because of His "tears and cries to God" (Hebrews 5:7). This is the earnest praying of a soul set on fire by the Holy Spirit. Passionless praying was as foreign to Jesus as sinning, and He is our example in living and in praying. When was the last time that you sobbed before the Lord in prayer and cried out to Him with such earnestness that your forehead beaded up with sweat? This is fervent prayer!
Zeal for God's house consumed Jesus (John 2:17). His "fire" was demonstrated in His zeal to honor the Father in all that He did, and this fire burned in His heart and ignited those around Him. This world is still warmed by the fire of passion that took Jesus to the cross! A passion for the glory of God blazed brightly in Jesus, undimmed by any sin, never quenched by any gratification of the flesh. His passion took Him to the cross, where He poured out His blood to forgive us our sins, remove our guilt, and to reconcile us to the Father.”

give us zeal.

Railroad Noise

2010-07-07T19:46:00.004-07:00

Currently listening to M.WARD and thinking if I were a song today, it would be full of indie folk and flow off your lips like something smooth and sweet, slow and full of taste and yet sound ancient and rustic-beat up but beautiful.

My hair's getting long...it will pink before summer ends for old time's sake and to remind myself to stay lite, childlike, and to giggle at myself often.

I find myself in a bed of spiders lately, physically as I literally must kill off the one's I've found nesting to close to my bed for comfort, and metaphorically speaking as I am constantly reminded that this world likes to weave false perspectives and present various constraints that web me down, tangle me up, and would choke me out...good thing I have a good spider spray to blast away.

I still don't like wearing shoes. Why are honey nut cheerios so good? And I need to remember to pray more and be still. I still ache for my friends overseas scattered about...I dream that we have conversations and that the distance is just a thought away, not over oceans and a couple grand that I don't have.

I'm an artist with no outlet, I create inside...is this selfish to not share? Perhaps...

I love deeply more and more each day.

and hey, You have great potential to change the world for the better today.

xoxo Sk

i like u...

2010-06-30T06:38:00.002-07:00

tell me a fun fact about you or tid bit I didn't know...

<3
sk.

Indulge.

2010-06-29T04:16:00.001-07:00

Live while you live, the Epicure would say,
And seize the pleasures of the present day;
Live while you live, the sacred preacher cries,
And give to God each moment as it flies;
Lord, in my view let both united be;
I live in pleasure when I live to thee.

— Philip Doddridge (1702-1751)

It's all so possible...

2010-06-26T06:22:00.002-07:00

I was once walking in it, living it.
Full of anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive speech; which was no stranger to my lips. I lied, and built my own gods, or was my own god.

I'm now not that girl. Not anything I did or accomplished, but I am under a new code of grace. Laws are stale and show our depravity only. They aren't birthing life, just highlighting the inevitable death we must all face. Laws restrict us, sometimes for our well being, but often they choke us.

And sinner saved by grace, made right just because I was loved by God. Now I'm being renewed...true knowledge- so I forget your facts and status quo, now I stand- beloved, set apart for something so much better. Full.

Now I can have true compassion, not just give you fake sympathy and be a good humanitarian, I can have a heart that breaks too. I can be kind, without alternative motives. I can be humble, knowing it doesn't matter if I'm on top, on bottom, or left out all together. I can be gentle- despite my disposition or a past of opinionated blasts to hammer my points out into you. I can be patient when the world and people start banging me down and running me weary with their agendas. I can forgive...I do. I'm not angry anymore. I'm not scared to let go, to love deeply because I have a source to tap into.

I'm not insecure anymore. Not because I accomplished my goals, not because I arrived, and not because I got my way...it’s all the opposite. I lost, was shown a fool, and fell away, but that’s when I won. I have a warrior, His name, the Lord.
I'm not insecure because I have the peace flowing thru every vein in me, changing the way I see...all of it.

I'm thankful. For the stories, for the people I've met. Thankful: The Lord's patience, His timing, and His answers even when they're difficult to swallow down. I'm thankful for the places I've been, where I am, and where I am going. I'm thankful for the sacrifices that still grip my mind in wonderment. God to flesh; who would change their riches for rags, their immortality for a sagging body of rotting flesh, no one in today's world?

So I'll keep writing, reading, seeking, praying, prying apart the dark corners and drag them out in the Light. I'll refresh my mind in something better than what is out there, and trip on myself often...but I'll remember to sing and be thankful that this sinner is made saint.

So ultimately I am hidden with Christ in God. I don’t need to prove anything anymore.
(writing prompted from Col.3, Gal.2:20, 2 Peter 1:5-11)

xoxo
SK

Airing out the sheets

2010-06-05T06:08:00.003-07:00

I'M DEPRESSED. You aren't normal if you don't feel alienated and insane at more than one or another in your life. Normalcy is subjective anyways, or so they all say. Or maybe it’s defined in the context of the culture, the generation, the grouping, family…whatever.

I’m continually in this mode of frustration, and am starting to realize I’ve been here for quite sometime. Honesty is hard to articulate without coming off as if I am need of opinions, help, or a freebie…I don’t need those things. I know where the answers are, I know what is to be my hope and my encouragement. I have promises swarming at my fingertips in pages of scripture, and I believe them but am still smacking my head in a wall.

I was talking with a girlfriend and had the image of a hamster on the wheel in a cage. Running, getting nowhere…just running. In short and much more simplistic terms, I feel like that hamster who daydreams about what it is like to experience the outside world and run about freely. That, my friends is normal. I think what would maybe be classified as abnormal, or insane, or just downright foolish is when someone opens the cage and leaves the hamster to his own devices. Yet the hamster, seeing the cage door wide open and unattended….stays put and keeps laboring away on the wheel.

Seriously?

I’m sick and tired of analyzing the reasons behind what I do. I’m tired of “root” issues, and “excuses.” Bad days, creeping insecurities, a quiet complacency, or a mundane droning that I just get ok with are all there. I am so fickle friends! Indecisive and not a woman of my word. It’s harsh to come to face yourself full on. But, I asked for this. I pray for brokenness, for everything to be shattered and for it to be remade because I keep seeing my meddling hands get in the way.

I’m at a familiar place in my life where I am restless, so restless in fact that I can commit and settle down to accomplish anything. Both on a small scale, and a large scale. Whether it be to invest in a friendship long enough to get past superficial means, or even in physical goals to beat my body into shape as Paul writes. Or to pursue a dream that seems so overwhelming large and to complicated for me. I sit and look at the big picture and can’t start moving because I over analyze every step, drive myself mad, and go watch TV. I’m not really watching just trying to bide my time. Wake up, repeat.

Mad.

Ok. It’s dangerous to expose every crevice of your mind, this I realize. It’s very unattractive, isn’t it?

So. Here I have a choice, and we all have a choice. What will we choose to focus on and cling too? Our strengths-ha- I have none. Our abilities? They can be crippled by life. Our careers? They can be taken. Our status? Many a men fall everyday, the status quo is always in flux. Our appetites? We will never be full, we will never be satisfied, pour over the tabloids and flip to E! and you’ll know this. Our social justices? We can’t even begin to fix this messed up world, it’s becoming more of a rat race (no, I’m not suggesting we give up)…so what. I can sit here for some more years collecting dust and crying over what I am not, or I can start something more.

But can I?

I pray for the gift of tears like the old Puritans, bunch of rigid bible thumpers, but at least on to the right direction of wanting brokenness and repentance knowing it starts with your heart. I pray for it loudly. But now I need to get up and fight for it aggressively. Fight for the hope that Christ is what He say’s He is. Are you surprised I use such religious terms? Perhaps because my faith is so small in my everyday life, and such a “gong-show.”. I still have issues with the “religious”. I’m not a fan of religion, I’m big on relationship. I understand so little, and have lived in err. Yet I know that as I learn, and listen, the hamster door was opened by Christ and I know I am free of all this bondage…so why spin about on this stupid wheel. Increase my faith, Lord. I’m so skeptical at exiting my own prison.

Just thought I’d write it down this morning, as I woke and shook out the sheets of my mind laying there and listening to the sound of my fan whirring above and wondering if I’d live today. It’s always a choice, we choose to live or die.

It's coming.

2010-05-29T07:43:00.003-07:00

Here we go...

<
I love them.

make this so:

2010-04-21T09:53:00.002-07:00

As they make music they will say, "All my fountains are in you." — Psalm 87:7

amen.

why not.

2010-04-15T17:44:00.005-07:00

I'm holding my breath.
I'm writing.

Racking my brain and racing this race. RAT.

thurth= So lost on the minds of you intellects, so lost on the clowns and politics. A child has more the disposition of the spiritual intuition, of the unfathomable real riches.

I'm ripping my pages.
I'm drowning.

hurtht= So I'm angry at the fickle flicks of mere men, so I'm irate that we parade around in costumes of cheapened glory when I see the seams of flesh and the ugly realities of selfish ambitions.

I'm shipping out.
I'm banking.

ttuhr= SO WHAT. It's all been done. Live you corpses, and take from the land that's already broken and weak. Live, Die, Repeat, in my head it's dead...its dead. RAT.

I'm cashing in.
I'm out to sea.

Letting myself go and running on. RACE.

TRUTH+ so you know this is what it is. Sorry to offend, sorry to rant...no I'm not, apologize from the only thing that separates me from the darkness? Hell NOT where I am headed, no longer my reality. I'm retired from all this dying in the dirt. I'm giving up...get GET UP Up.

sea me, see me. I'm gone...

I bet you didn't...but maybe you did...

2010-04-09T19:52:00.003-07:00

know that I...

always have a song in my head.

I want a sleeve...but am scared of the noise of the needle more than the pain of the needle.

I don't like touching my eyes or eyelashes or watching others do it, but yet I can wear contacts.

I'm writing a novel about you and will expose you all...but mostly myself.

I love being barefoot, all the time.

I write down lists and poems to strangers on napkins and toilet paper.

I can't keep a secret from my mother, and it gets me in trouble a lot.

I have 8 piercing.

I WILL never give up hair dye, no matter how hard I try.

I love to dance my dance.

I used to smoke cigs, I quit.

I HATE buttons, they make me want to cry.

I suck at keeping in touch with old pals, but I think often of them.

I don't really want to live in America much longer...South America? India? hmmm.

I can't hear well in my left ear, it rings alot.

I've cried harder this yr than ever, but I also have laughed louder and feel no burden weighing down on me.

I am a progression, not a regression.

I know the future.

I embrace people from all walks of life, I want to listen to them.

I'm OK with change.

The ocean is a spiritual experience for me, and I worship well in it and with it.

I'm not good with "domestic" skills i.e. sewing, cooking, or crafts.

I have a fetish with dress-up and sailor stripes.

I'm reading Moby Dick, Sylvia Plath, and the Bible interchangeably...sometimes I dream them all in one hot mess.

I pretend to shoot off cannons of noise and fly when I listen to RATATAT in my car...it's caused me to get a speeding ticket and one warning (don't daydream and drive)

I like this boy and his weird flamboyant rock and style:

laundry of the mind

2010-04-01T21:04:00.004-07:00

I don't like juice.

Seriously.

exposure.

2010-03-30T05:08:00.003-07:00

We'd be wise to repent...

Repentance is the word that has dominated my mind for the last week, and leading on into this one. It at times dominates my heart in the smal victiories, but I am seeing what a flesh vessel I am, as I beat my chest at another loss or feel a callousness creep over me. Apathy is not my friend and I must keep praying for a heart that breaks at the very things that breaks God's- even if the heartbreak is due to my own hands of meddling, or my 'self accomplishment.' I am nothing without Christ. Nothing. I'd be vacant, wanderer, a self glorified pompous individual who'd try to wear the garments of intellect, but really be nothing more than a fool. Miserable and alone. (Justice. Peace. Hope. Redemption); I cry for those things but often I am finding war...not the kind that sheds other mens blood in a pointless battle to which greed is increased, war against my self. The selfishness that rots me to the core.

I'm sorry, but am I sorry for the right reasons...?

God knows this is a journey for me. I listened as a friend spoke of a hurt that I can only vaugley identify with and was blindsided later that the real reality was that she needed me to tell her truth. She needed me to say it was ok to hurt, we are broken...we can't mend this. But I know who can. And only in Christ will we break down for the right reasons, and be repaired. Creation is in chaos my friends, and we'd be idiots not to see the hot mess we are getting ourselves in further, and further.

I live my dreams in my head, a cowardess, pray I become a warrior. I write because I'll forget. Or maybe it's all because I have no voice, where is that voice anyway. Buried in endless chatter and silly ideas I suppose.

1 cor.3:17 Now the Lord is the Spirit and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

don't we all want freedom?

ye-ouch...

2010-03-24T21:47:00.001-07:00

I read this quote today...

"Men are in a restless pursuit after satisfaction in earthly things. They will exhaust themselves in the deceitful delights of sin, and, finding them all to be vanity and emptiness; they will become very perplexed and disappointed. But they will continue their fruitless search. Though wearied, they still stagger forward under the influence of spiritual madness, and though there is no result to be reached except that of everlasting disappointment, yet they press forward. They have no forethought for their eternal state; the present hour absorbs them. They turn to another and another of earth's broken cisterns, hoping to find water where not a drop was ever discovered yet."

and felt it was talking to me...

convicting to think that I may be going about this a bit backwards huh.

This weekend was...

2010-03-15T09:38:00.000-07:00

Lost Creek, dirt winding roads. My mind, the kite blows. FREEDOM, on your feet…will they lead us? Will we choose defeat? “I love you.” Followed by…“baby.” I was in his arms helpless and asleep, he pulled me to his lap when I was to old for laps, a father cares when his child hurts.
Ergo, and a man with a trendy cap. Stable Mabel, anything but. Her bark worse than her bite- look!...still kites.
Fig leaf; mines control. The lack of, complete or the choice to loose. Circles all day like my head, like my hands, like my blue eyes as I scan the grey ones…is she talking still? My mind still on the kite; Soaring over everything, pushed by the unseen.
“You smell like dog.” “puff n pass.” “No thanx.”
“It’s a PIG?” “It’s pooping….” “Ha.”
Holding hands at the wrists to pass through the currents, on the other side I lost my mind. I let it slip off and under the chilly little ripples of cellophane, no wait-water. It’s only real you know, as all creation groans. I sigh a little knowing your silence next to me is golden, more like purple, you huff a cloud and I watch the healing shaman emerge. Gimmicks I think, where’s the kite?
Raw fish, no one said the grace right- I drank water in too tall of a glass. Missing the east, branded in Greek. To many words with M & N. Not a kite in sight. I write the speakers mind before he speaks, or am I writing his discourse and it’s because of me he speaks? Not a demigod Sandra, I am always reminded of my flesh. Not into self gratification, cut down the kite if it’s colors are too bold.
153, and 59 days more- less will be more.

“Look at all those kites.” “Yea…”

Fireball...

2010-03-05T14:07:00.006-08:00

I'm a ball of fury, a flame that runs its course down the land, licking up the dirt...

I'm a whirlwind of love, to catch you up in my passion breeze...

I'm a wave of strength, which crashes with authority upon the shores and oars of men...

I'm a steady river whose mighty rhythm changes the course of the bed...

I'm a tangle of roots that drinks deep of the life line...

I'm a sturdy tree whose arms provide the relief for all the ones of the land...

I'm a consistent beat that keeps the sound at a sweet melody...

I'm a ferocious force, and know my source...

In Him who goes before me, in Him who is FOR ME.

For whom of you can claim to carry burdens, who of you will lose your life to write a love story? Who can fathom the possibilities of tasting Heaven and yet carrying Hell for the ungrateful and forgetful? And yet He comes a fireball into my world, a whirlwind of love that swept me away, wave of strength who crushed my heart to make me, a steady river that brought forth all peace, a deep root giving me all stability, a sturdy tree who was my refuge in the heat, my consistent sound that reminded me of where I am going and who I am, my fierce force who drove all the victory home for me and established me in the right time...

This is a Man who does adore me.

------------------------------------------
for Michelle and the other "procrastinators". xoxo

RED PAINT.

2010-02-21T21:09:00.002-08:00

Romans 8:1-3
Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.
For what the law could not do, weak as it was through the flesh, God DID: sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and as an offering for sin, He condemned sin in the flesh...

God DID.
So I CAN.

that's all. I'm resting in HIS hope.

SK.

Today...

2010-02-16T14:33:00.001-08:00

I have a broken heart...

SK.

a poem.

2010-02-11T07:33:00.002-08:00

"Courage! Courage!" Cries the Lamb,
whose meek demeanor brought internal terror, such discomfort to the mighty...
their ideas of past theologies, their perspective of holy living- as the lost lay dying, as the wanderer is left pining.

"Courage! Courage!" Calls the Lamb,
whose flesh is broken brought on by men like me. And me, such an uncomfortable realization to the sinner now saint... all their burdens, all their justified actions- as Christ breaks open, as his blood becomes the pardon.

"Courage...Courage.." whispers the Lamb,
whose form is the Spirit brought in by Gods hand, such a calm in the storm, such an unknown peace...my heart doesn't understand, my mind cannot comprehend- as I lay completely bare, as I feel my inners tear...

"COURAGE", it was spoken to me, and from the depths of my own heart it is there I know He goes before me in all things, for what Savior cannot speak from experience, to save me from the sea's restlessness, to make me understand, that here, yes here, he has courage in his hands.

"You changed my grief into a crazy dance..."

2010-02-09T08:02:00.003-08:00

I'm exploding into songs...
I bought a CD. Enter the worship circle vol.3

To say I like it is a huge understatement.

I was disgusted with myself recently as I sorted through some old journals as part of an art project I am trying to get off the ground. I feel upon some entries that literally made me want to scream...I think I may have...I was distraught at how narrow my perspective was, of how infatuated I had become on one thing, or several things (or people). It was brutal, a painful read at best as I sought some truth in my words, but the pages dripped with half truths, or weak stabs in the dark, or sometimes they were just that-dark.

I had to stop reading when I came to entry about a friend that I lost a few years ago. We were in an argument and I hated reading my thoughts on the matter knowing that he was soon taken from me altogether. I was livid with myself as a few entries later I expressed how I was in the wrong and was going to seek restoration, but was to afraid...I let it pass on, and then he died. Although I've dealt with this several years back, and do have peace in the matter, and I know what he would have said...it still created a deep ache in my heart to read the entries where I spilled my heart, and I saw as if I was different person, how incorrect my heart was. The heart. Hmm...

The following morning I had ignored the pile of journals on the floor and crawled into my overstuffed recliner to read some of Gods word. That’s the only place I know to turn to anymore, when all else slips away, and things come to a screeching halt. It hit me somewhere in between reading Psalms and Hebrews...this doesn't change. This Word doesn't overstress emotion, it doesn't buckle under pressure, and it doesn't prove itself false. It is not bound to a circumstance, a feeling, a moment in time. It transcends times, generations, it leaps, it bounds, it proclaims truth, it screams redemption, it changes, and it takes on its own. But more importantly, I found it is NOT false. Turning the pages of the book that lay open on my lap, I listened as I heard the rain beat down and could feel the wind change to a colder harsher gust...and I read on...

The Lord speaking to Job,
"Have you understood the expanse of the earth? Tell Me, if you know all this. Where is the way to the dwelling of light? And darkness, where is its place, That you may take it to its territory And that you may discern the paths to its home? ...Who has cleft a channel for the flood, Or a way for the thunderbolt, To bring rain on a land without people, On a desert without a man in it, To satisfy the waste and desolate land And to make the seeds of grass sprout? Has the rain a father? Or who has begotten the drops of dew? ..."
(Taken from Job 38)

He and He alone knows all these things, and knows my heart and where it’s been. But he now posses it all- I give it freely.

I'm going to have a bonfire to burn away the years recorded thru my eyes, and not Christ's. So many pages of hurt… and for what? I'd rather dwell in the words of the Most High, those words have value, they take life, they restore, they change everything...

My prayers: My eyes are continually toward the LORD,
For He will pluck my feet out of the net. Psalm 25:15

For YOUR lovingkindness is before my eyes,
And I have walked in YOUR truth. Psalm 26:3

It’s sunny today. There are a lot of reasons to say thanks today.

XOXO -SK

U miss me?- Like I miss u?

2010-01-04T20:30:00.004-08:00

Oh shenanigans.
I've been tagged in 1,433 photos on facebook and as I tried to skim them that's the only thing that came to my mind...that and why DID I think it would be a good idea to do that string of awkward photos around #800 involving bubble gum..?

Listen to Monster's Of Folk. Amber, you'll like them. Sit in your car- at the beach at sunrise or sunset and play in headphones. Think of me. <3

Pish.

I miss Japan; my pals there, teaching, and the culture. I think I'm in bad need of a really long train ride thou. Can't really zone out and check out the landscape when I'm the one behind the wheel. No doubt that would end up a mess.

I know its nostalgia this time around, and a bit of a hopeful future possibility all mixed in one, not a discontent frustration of where I am now.

I'm learning to be content in the where, the now, the present scene or situation. God's been providing like crazy the minutest blessings, which to anyone else would seem trivial- to me, their monuments. They help me stand erect and smile. A conversation in passing with an older wiser friend who nails exactly what I couldn't articulate, an email to share a particular life lesson, a freebie, an invite, some overtime at work, community, an immediate answer to a financial prayer by finding the cash down to the exact dollar amount needed (in the closet of all places).

Found an archaic journal of mine and wept with laughter out loud of my teenage poetry that was so overly dramatic, skewed, one sided, and predictable. I should have picked up an instrument and put Dashboard to shame. At least then I could have scored some bucks from the clatter and clutter of it all.

Then I tripped up on this entry... I was young...

"A content sigh that forms deep within a troubled heart and a sore chest- sore from the weight of the world warring on inside her, it's only a subtle needed escape that didn't feel like the wrench or the bullet bursting explosion that she had schemed up.
Just a simple sigh. Release.
This calm removal reveals the soft, firm hand of no stranger. A man who would give it all, even a place in heaven to see her restored. A man who would stop at nothing- not even a cruel death and denial of all his worth.
She's not worth it, she knows it. He is. He's the whole infinite definition of worthy. She is the UN in every task. UN worthy, UN willing, UN fulfilled, UN attractive, and UN able...He takes away the UN known. He becomes Known. She is Known. He became lower to show her something I still can't piece together...such a gut wrenching love. All I know is I am her. All I know is that I love that Man. I love Him. You knew my tears Father before I even cried...and when I wouldn't rest right you held me tight Jesus. What a relief to be undone in your eyes and yet fully complete."

Wow. I knew it then, it holds true today. The funny thing about journals is they capture emotions at their peek, in their raw form. Often my journals lie- they only show one side of the story, or they only ramble over what I was obsessed on for the moment. It may not be the full story; it may not even be my story. But when I write about Christ, it's always consistent. He's consistent even in my moodiness. At a young age I penned that down on crappy crème colored paper with lines that were to small, and a stinky odor from the leather backing and with chicken scribble of penmanship...and still Christ runs true on this page as He does on my heart.

Good stuff.

Nothing full of everything's.

2009-12-30T20:01:00.003-08:00

My least favorite task of the morning barista shift is that of putting out the umbrellas and metal chairs on the patio. I used to think it was due to the fact that the small metal backings of the chairs pinched my hands as I wobble them into place. Or more so the fact that it will always ensure in a finger pinch as I nestle the massive umbrella poles to their stems and have them lock in place.

It's because I suck at dogging the puddles that collect in certain areas of the cement, and I never wear socks. Cold feet...but hot coffee.

The worst thing about my morning often can be my best thing as I feel like I've accomplished some difficult course that was mapped before me --that is when my feet stay dry. Point to me.

I smell of black currant vanilla and have boy sweats on b/c my boy Luke is a mastermind of gift giving. I cried when I opened it-yes, I am capable of girl appropriate giddyness, but no one was hear to see so I felt the need to document it so later in my life I can come back to this moment and go, "ah-ha!" When I reopened the blog it made me smile to see that he was the one in the picture with me- I had forgotten. That and the fact that I can hear his laugh when I think of the night that picture was taken. That's the best laugh.

My best friends all have 5'o'clock shadows. One on occasion sports a fedora, and has recently started to don designer shoes. The other will always push my buttons, and yet calm me in the heat of things and will elongate my name...we also share an imaginary friend, and yet somehow I don't think we're THAT odd. Although Milly doesn't have facial hair- she certainly holds her own with things like motorcycle repairs, massive dogs, and build-it-herself tasks that I would cave under. They should form a super hero band and do something awesome...like fix the economy or get my room mate a job.

My roommate and I have ongoing jokes of robots that often get so outlandish that I sometimes wonder if I should just write kid books. With color pages and sticker accessories of course. I'm not even kidding, I feel a career change.

In all my years of living I've learned two important things:
Lock your car.
Own a screwdriver.

Okay, I'm not wise, prophetic, or done learning...but I am in a ramble of a mood and have no idea why I have Pearl Jam stuck in my head or what the right response is to a question like, "What do you like to do?" How vauge. I should simplify my answer by simply saying, "TA-DA!", and throwing up jazz hands. Maybe they'll be distracted by the wiggling of my fingers...or miffed by the fact that I just said 'Ta-Da.' Either one is good by me,

Sometimes I just type, and this was one of those days. Truly inside a lot is spinning and weaving about. A tapestry of ideas and whatnots- that are just waiting to take shape, It's exciting to be listening more intently and reading with more fervor. It's joy. I prefer it to happiness and certainly over a relaxed state of mind that so often will drift and cross over to apathy. Joy. Yea- it's ok today.

SK

I'm going to hurl...

2009-12-27T17:50:00.004-08:00

I can't articulate to you, dear reader, the mass changes that have gone on since the last blog that was written Jan.20.

I'm coming up on the anniversary of that blog, and am so amazed at the change of scenery, the movement of seasons, and the events that have unfolded. I'm also a bit baffled as I look in the mirror and almost don't even recognize myself. Not that the physical has changed much, but underneath it all the stirring and restlessness of a heart that beats with such fury. A fury to know God, and to be nearer to Him.

It's no surprise to me that God was always in the midst of all this and that He was not surprised that I would be here. I may be surprised, but you can't catch the Lord off guard.

Two years ago I was walking thru what I can only explain as a desert. I felt so stagnate and hurt- lonely and choked out. All dried up, and yet never allowed to flourish. I was spinning my wheels and anticipating the move to Japan. It was a miracle I even made it, and even more of one that I survived despite my outlandish and comical start. I somehow landed on my feet and began to receive this image of a desert flower....that God leads us through the unknown and the desert valleys. He is the provider. I flourished under His hand....and then lost sight....

I then found myself in a circus. It wasn't Japan that was the madhouse, the chaos that enveloped me was due to my lack of self discipline. My desire to explore and fit in overtook my desire to allow the Lord to lead me on a greater and richer adventure I'm sure. Bad habits entangle and cause narrow and jaded perspectives and it's easy to justify one's behavior. The image of a clown was branded on me, as I was a running joke. My life felt like a roller coaster of emotions and an ongoing party. Peace was far off it seemed. Still the Lord was present to remind me that He holds me when I come down from a high-a mess. He reminded me that I, the unlovely, was so precious and important to Him, To be called lovely and desired even when I felt that I was at my most undesirable and pitiful state....

Coming home was hard. Yet I saw that the doors were opening before me and plowed thru. I realized that the problems you never deal with eventually will rise up again, they tail you. I think the next image would be that of a child that was branded on me. As I spent time teaching 2-3yr olds on a daily basis I witnessed numerous meltdowns known as the tantrums, or perhaps better labeled under- "the terrible two's." One day in particular I was dealing with a small girl named Abby who was making my life at work a living hell. I witnessed as she screeched at another child, hitting him square in the jaw with a block, and proceeding to bite him. Prior to that she sat on the bathroom floor refusing to pull on her pull up and screaming that she wanted new socks. These were normal occurances, and I thought the child to be crazed. That's when God spoke, "This is what you look like to me." It didn't really take much weight until I witnessed the consequences of my tantrums, and realized that a defiant child must be disciplined...and yes, discipline can hurt- alot.

I've been writing a lot about destroying and uprooting lies I think we fall victim to in our lives. The lie that one is unloved. That one has no purpose. The lie that you are only worth what you make...
The lie that you must prove your point, that you're only beautiful if you weigh in at 130lbs. The lie that you have to prove yourself, or make yourself, or reinvent yourself....such selfishness.

I looked out of my parent's back window and watched as the snow fell covering the ground and the small tree that stood directly in the center of the lawn. It's red leaves looked striking against the bleak morning and white snow. I watched as birds danced and flitted on the leaves of the tree and was reminded that we need not worry or stress over ANYTHING in our lives. God says that he cares for those birds, and that I am of more value than them...so why wouldn't he care for me? Peace.

I'm in the midst of a storm. The image now is of a small tattered boat with a torn sail and one paddle. The waves rage, the sky seems dark...but it is not hopeless. I see the light breaking thru. I know the calm will come in the midst of the rain and the gusts of uncharted winds. I know that ultimately the outcome of the storm will not bring about my demise, but it serves to make me a better boater- better trained for different waters. i may be shaken up, and I may be weary, but I am not defeated. The storm is beautiful, and God is quickly reminding me that He is near and that he brings forth beauty. I can have joy in the midst of a struggle.

Growing up on the ocean helps me capture the image sweetly. The most beautiful moment and memories I have of the ocean were after her storm had resided. The clearing in the sky as you could faintly see the weak rays of the sun that soon became brighter and then exploded into radiance as they were reflected on the calming sea. Like thousands of millions of diamonds the light danced upon the waves with effortlessness, and the wind became a fresh and salty breeze that tickled and drifted along the sand. It's as if there were no storm.

God will use the pain we go through, for His purposes- His glory, as well as for our own refinement.

I wrote my Mom a poem. We both are being put to the test. Hopefully we'll be found faithful.

UNTIL THE EAST

Oh gale, Eastward winds,
blow fresh upon my calloused skins.
Run past my impurities,
that healing Light- to behold the sight!
Of a new day made and a heart wiped clean,
evermore to thee I cling.
That the storm be real and my sail but frail,
still to you I call hither else I'd fail.
In the depths of night, watchful and clutched so tight-
you hold this child to the bosom of your might.
So fight on-Eastward glancing, the newness in your SON, that I would rise on eagle wings and say,
"Thy will, dear Father, be done."

SK

lofty living

2009-01-20T02:20:00.003-08:00

My head might explode from my hand as I wreck down on this keypad all the ideas and things that have happened over the last few weeks. I don't know moderation, I live in extremes, but I am willing to change and try something new for fear of burning out before I've even started--then again, maybe I am to be a combustion of a woman and blaze forward.

I'll be stateside in 5 days and as I look back I am in awe of how greatly things have changed, and yet at the same time some things remain entirely the same.

My dependency issue has still remained...thankfully it is being projected unto the very person it should and prayerfully always will be- in Christ.

I am needy, and yet He doesn't just fulfill the needs, He exceeds this role by satisfying me so deeply and rooting in me peace- that "peace that transcends all understanding" which is spoke about in Philippians by Paul.

I have no job yet, and no idea what to do next. My father told me he has taken it upon himself to start a new hobby- that of seeking employment for his daughter. This is more than likely because he fears I'll hibernate there for too long, or run off into another obscure area to chase after a fickle dream. As we talked, I realize his intentions are noble and intentional as he explained that I am yet again in a sweet season for change and on jump off point- with a variety of doors to walk through, and exciting opportunities. I am not worried. We agreed the most important thing is taking it under God's fold. Recession or not recession, my security is and never could be in a job....or in anything other than Christ.

Emotionally I am holding up as I say my goodbyes, and choke on tears of a bittersweet, raw, and deep love for the amazing friends and generous students who have blurred into my family. Japan will hold a special treasure in my heartstrings. I visited Kyoto for one last time with some girlfriends. As I watched the rain trickle down the bus window as we left the valley, I awed at the mountains and the steep ravines as I listened to Akiko and Sachiko talk excitedly about their souvenirs in Japanese. I have loved my time here, but yet I am ready. Can't explain it, but I am ready.

My students threw me a send off party at the same izakaya we partied at for my birthday. It was of course amazing, and I loved getting to spend time with all of them. I've spent my time darting to and fro having lunch dates with friends, taking it all in, and small day trips (particularly Nara- land of the free range deer and the biggest Buddha I have ever seen, with dear old Kazu).

My two stinky boy room mates keep me busy and mental. As I found myself homeless and jobless in Japan the last two weeks and lumped in with my best friends...which happen to be two very boyish boys. I grump over dirty mountains of dishes, and the quantity of strange hairs and whiskers in the shower area, the strange musk as they giggle because I walked in the path of a gas pass, or the constant toilet seat being left up....

I never thought I'd say this, but I could use some more estrogen around me, and am looking forward to my mothers immaculately clean and pristine home, and not having to ward off the boys for food, and the bathroom.

All in all, their quite accommodating, making the loft into my bedroom, and allowing me to have the place to myself while they go play video games at the neighbors. Collin and Luke leave for their two month East Asia adventure on the 11th of February, and I will miss them greatly. It'll be a different kind of mental I'll slip into of course...can't say I'll miss their hygiene habits or scents.

Saying goodbye in stages is also rough, and I wish that I could just "rip the band aid off" as Luke says, getting it over in one quick blow. Instead, they linger, are drawn out, and often are leaving me more drained and remorseful than perhaps I should be. In the end, it's never the way you say goodbye that matters, so much as the time you spent with the person---that's of course what I'll remember the most.

I'm ending this as the boys are starting to rough house behind me, and I foresee a hand or foot coming in my general direction....

egads.

<3 much love
SK

OH WOW, soon I can eat proper Mexican food.

2009-01-20T02:20:00.000-08:00

Stuff worth repeating

2008-12-18T07:07:00.000-08:00

"Waiting for God to act is fleshly unbelief. It means that I have no faith in Him. I wait for Him to do something in me so I may trust in that. But God won’t do it, because that is not the basis of the God-and-man relationship. Man must go beyond the physical body and feelings in his covenant with God, just as God goes beyond Himself in reaching out with His covenant to man. It is a question of faith in God--a very rare thing. We only have faith in our feelings. I don’t believe God until He puts something tangible in my hand, so that I know I have it. Then I say, "Now I believe." There is no faith exhibited in that. God says, "Look to Me, and be saved . . ." ( Isaiah 45:22 ).

When I have really transacted business with God on the basis of His covenant, letting everything else go, there is no sense of personal achievement— no human ingredient in it at all. Instead, there is a complete overwhelming sense of being brought into union with God, and my life is transformed and radiates peace and joy."

Oswald Chambers

Why hello December...

2008-12-03T05:46:00.003-08:00

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2237538&l=426f3&id=29623987
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2236058&l=aef99&id=29623987

The first album is of birthday goodness with my wonderful friends and some students in Kuwana. We celebrated over dinner at an Izakaya named Najimiya that was close to Kuwana’s train station. This provided a good enough reason for most of my friends/students to completely take advantage of the “all you can drink” offer. As it turns out, they are more fluent in their English with the help of various kinds of alcohol. Do I feel threatened that , as their teacher, am replaceable by way of various hard drinks? Not really. They were quite rowdy and entertaining, and despite their drunkenness, I knew that I was genuinely loved and appreciated by all…and of course, was honored at their thoughtfulness in the various gifts they presented me with. Gifts aside, the most important thing was their presence. I truly appreciate them all.

The second album is just what was captured of the month of November---just a bunch of silliness. Unfortunately I did not take out the camera during the ice skating birthday party, but soon someone is bound to dish out some pictures which I can share. Then you can see me and friends, in all our glory on the ice, with wigs of course.

It’s looking busy once more. GEOS is a whirlwind. I counted it out and have only 25 actual days of teaching. This means maybe only 4 more times with my students…this is a tragedy. I’ve decided to dye my hair black, wear only dark colors, and wail loudly throughout the days in Mycal Kuwana. Kidding. Instead I have resorted to being as genki as possible, and trying to make the most of each lesson and time to listen and share.

Kazu wants me to paint him something. I want to make something for Akiko as well and perhaps some of the others. I have 9 days holiday coming up for the new years and may spend half of it tearing through the stuff I have accumulated in the time here. I’ll try and sell it, mail it, or trash it- and then I’ll begin the long process of fitting my life into two suitcases and a backpack.
I’ll return from the holiday and resume teaching the 6th and then hit the wall of despair…my last teaching day on the 10th, my longest and most difficult of the days (going out with a BIG bang). I was told that I needed to be out of the apartment the 11th, and then will be homeless and jobless, with two weeks left to go before being stateside.

This will be the fun part. It’ll be a jump in faith. Can I make the money last? Is it really possible to fit as many shoes as I need in just two suitcases? Will Jeremy, Collin, Amanda, Toshie, and others kill me for squatting with them for so long? And more importantly, how does one say no to the idea of living like this permanently….

I got the green light from various people to be the ultimate mooch during this time, and I’m not going to lie- it’s very appealing and well accepted by me. I will repay them in whatever small ways I can. IE making them toast in the morning, cleaning, not using their favorite conditioner or special toothpaste, refraining from talking out every little thing in my head (as I often do).

Genius.

No jobs- and no job motivation has befallen on me yet. I still think I’d be amazing at being some kind of pointless celebrity that no one knows why they are important or famous, they just are. So people are naturally inclined to give them money, and let them talk about important things that they really no zilch about. I’d be so good at that. I talk all the time about nothing, might as well get my picture taken in the process and get some cash thrown in my direction.

I’m craving pomegranates due to a lip gloss that is getting to much use b/c I keep licking it off my lips…that was pointless to type.

This month will be full of Christmas parties that will be random and thrown together last minute, a house party for my friend Keiko, a possible snowboard trip which will result in me walking funny for many days after paired with awkward sunburns, and a visit from the beautiful Lisa from Tokyo. Reunited is so good.

Enjoy the pictures. Much love, I will see some of you sooner than you could even imagine…or want for that matter!

<3 SK

Mudpie

2008-11-21T07:47:00.006-08:00

A coffee mug with sakura flowers from Akiko and handmade…I like it. A note that reads: "I love GEOS but I love Sandy much morer. Happiest Binthday to you! You make me happy!"- written on a Sesame Street note and included with homemade cakes, from Nanako. She's ten and awesome. Cakes, and candy and little love notes from various business men who shuffle passed me and say things like, "You're young, enjoy." or "See you Sunday night- is it all you can drink?" Yes-Yes it is sirs. Let’s not forget the tremendous package from home that has what I always crave- variation mini cereal boxes and nerds candies....yessssss.

So I'll be the first to admit I hate b-day celebrations, unless they are other peoples. It's much more fun to party hearty and scream out someone else’s name. I feel pressure when it's mine. This yr, however, is different. I'm coasting into 25 and letting it just happen.

I had a rough year, let's be honest. And yet, it was also one of the greatest so far. I'm still hitting transitional buttons and on the flux. I have no idea how it'll all turn out, but I'm going to be stubborn and just run after the only thing I know as consistent or important. That being the Lord. You can't resolve on the rest- it'll leave you dissatisfied and numb, I would know. We all need to be rescued, I think. From a life that's misconstrued with fragments of truth and what is considered "good", or life. Rescued from a life of apathy that settles in so nicely with many of us,
and I thought it would be easier to just cave in on myself and live in filth or ignorance, but how much better would it be to achieve? How much greater to not have to lie, or live a life that is dictated by falsehood?

I feel immense joy from all my students, and I totally am stoked to have Seth here safe and sound after the long journey to Alaska. (ha-ha) I am loving the idea of seeing friends I haven’t in a long time, but I am right now going to hold tight to the great one’s I have in front of me for the time. I’m considering a complete job change, one that will be risky, challenging, and time consuming. It’s all about the timing.

I want to move seaside if possible... and Jordan's right on the money- I'm going to miss taking the train everywhere.

I don’t know where I was going with this one…nowhere I think.
<3 sk

Nemo me impune lacessit-

2008-11-15T08:05:00.004-08:00

This isn’t so much a travel log now is it….and this entry is no different. I just can’t be bothered to mess with a pen, and I can’t find the right paper, so the blog will get my words today.

I want to remember the friends I have as vividly as I can. Not that they won’t be friends when I leave, but I know how memories are- they can be all together deceiving and at times, as much as you love, and as much as you may know, it in the end fades away. But, it will of course manifest itself inconveniently at best, and create what we call déjà vu, or perhaps nostalgia. My mind’s not solid. Time’s a healer, and at times-yes even time is a thief. It can rob me of things not yet done. It’s difficult to take a step in any direction at this point; the idea of going “home” and pursuing a career is not so appealing, nor is sifting through options here, as I am finding that they leave me a bit dissatisfied and wondering if I’m making wise choices. I had some hard words told to me the other day. But I am truly thankful they were put out there, and even more so thankful to God that I have someone that cares deeply enough about me to say the truth even when it’s going to stab me like a knife, or make me burn with an anger because I know deep in my heart that they’ve never been more right. I’m not being wise. It’s evident by the inconstancies that plague my actions.

I want to leave the company I work for- true. And I want a change- true. I do not however like the idea of a homecoming, and am swinging back into the mode of uncertainty and doubt. I don’t pursue things with relentlessness. I think I am lazy. More so, I am selfish. Scan to the entry below and you may find it ironic that just a few days back I was sitting pretty and packing a little humor into my delicate situation, claiming to be in total trust. Fast forward to now and you’ll find I am unraveling and staring at walls—I know walls don’t move but I think I’m enjoying just zoning out. And yea, that’s right…I know where I’m going wrong, and yet sometimes we choose wrong over the right.

So enough of that. Yadda-yadda-yadda, we all do dumb things.
Akiko and Sachiko are the first to celebrate with me as I approach 25. Fruity cake and a loud, young, and crowded izakaya was a nice atmosphere to our usual ramblings. I feel loved by them in so many different ways, and taken well care of. I only hope that I can somehow show back a token of what they continually put out with me. I’m using the electric blanket Tsukasa gave me, and thinking that it’s perhaps the most thoughtful and useful thing. Not like I can read the Kanji characters on my Aircon remote….tried that before….nearly died.
Classes have become more enjoyable recently-despite the severe overload. I’m finding my time precious with each student and enjoying holding my little one’s a little tighter. Kazu’s trip back from America has made him more zealous to learn, and leaving me winded. The questions are often difficult as my weak point is grammar, but he’ll never know just how much I admire his spirit and determination, as we hammer out letters –translating back and forth ideas and feelings so he can send his new pen pals from the trip. 75 years old and livelier than me on my best day.

I don’t know why but the burst of energy has torn through me lately in kid’s classes and I am thoroughly enjoying every 50 minutes of the mayhem of each kiddo lesson I partake in. I have once more claimed back the ring leader status to their circus of learning, and it’s tremendous fun to participate and prompt the hilarity and even better when it simultaneously joined in their learning. This is my delight. There are times I think, when as a teacher of children you get the sensation of being lazy and putting in only a half effort so you can have more time to facebook or sip your diet coke outside while escaping bad mall music- all this really does is cheapen things for both parties. The students won’t have fun learning, it becomes dutiful and chore-like, and as the teacher you actually create a more stressful environment by not planning some degree of fun into each lesson. Thus you become a control freak, and children by nature rebel to control freaks…they throw markers, and eat things they shouldn’t, and God forbid they decide that it’s a good idea to really test your patience by using the table as a spring board for their latest acrobatic freakish-like moves. I’m writing this in case I feel the need to remind myself later to just roll with it, suck it up and get off the facebook and create a monster good game and killer lesson.
Besides, teaching children simple food vocabulary is far more interesting when you make them look like the food they are learning. Watching KL classes scramble to become a full size pizza or a pack of chicken nuggets is greatly amusing. Even better with improve dance moves for the fruit salad. They, and I, may never eat the same again.

I’m tearing through Poe. He’s dark, and I like it. He uses big words I don’t get like:
grotesquerie, and habitual trepidancy, or cognizance-but I pretend to be an intellectual and think…yea man, deep. As I sip black coffee because I decided that it’s time to upgrade from soy lattes and cappuccinos, because let’s face it, if you’re going to spend your free time reading deep pieces of poetry and short stories that require much mental effort, you might as well beef up the drink and be as hardcore as possible. All that’s missing is cigarettes and a small pile of overdue bills underneath the paints I’ve been dabbling in…

and No mom, I’m not smoking, just an example.

The norm routine of the week is: run-work-break-work-sushi roll with Tsukasa…and repeat.
The weekend’s are where I go crazy, and allow myself to explode in every direction and keep no track of time, and tell sleep to get lost…b/c it’s just not convenient to sleep on those fun filled days, or nights, or whatever time it is anyways.

Speaking of time- it’s being wasted right now. I have deep words to read and not understand but alas I will read them and hope that one day I’ll truly get all the undertones and in between meanings that are sandwiched in….or maybe it really just means nothing, but with nothing comes something.
I’m going ice skating for my birthday. Trying to get over 30 of my friends on ice and in costume will be a feat- but I’m up for the challenge.
(bed time)
Later,
SK<3

I'm anticipating the 4th.

2008-11-02T23:33:00.003-08:00

what kind of title is that? Humph...but it's true.

Now it's Business time:

ATTENTION!
I will be back in America the 25th of Jan. (put it down somewhere in pencil)

Someone…anyone…one of you…

Find me a job….

?

These are a few of the qualifications I posses off the top of my head:

*skilled talker of nothingness
*rapid talker
*exuberant-ness directed in various forms
*somewhat funny, more so socially awkward with good timing
*ability to wildly gesture throughout conversation- we can call this multitasking
*can sleep standing
*can type incredibly fast using only two fingers, therefore other fingers can be trained to do other business suitable things..
*r-r-random thinker, this can be penciled in as non conformist, creative, or even “thinks outside the box”
*did I mention I can talk and stuff…

Get to work. Hit me up with your brilliant suggestions, or let me squat with you until I can find something more productive to do with all these ideas ricka-shaying in my mind.

P.S. I am not worried- God has melted away the fear of the unknown and replaced it with the joy of the now.

To those that do not have facebook, enjoy:

Halloween and some other random goodies!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2230312&l=3e17a&id=29623987

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2232337&l=a84f6&id=29623987

Dan Attack!

2008-10-17T18:04:00.002-07:00

Here's my brother's awesome pictures of his visit:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=15b7twx7.o9rd7n7&x=0&y=-ekd04s&localeid=en_US

<3
SK

1234.

2008-10-07T06:52:00.000-07:00

I’m exhausted.

Danny just left, and the visit was fun—but exhausting. What happens when you have two colossally genki powers under one roof…EXPLOSIONS!
We are bad foreigners who giggle to loudly on public transports, and we annoyed all around us by over exerting high fives and loud chants of inside jokes that ran rampant….it only got worse when joined by my friends who took to Dan like air.
It was however amazing the amount we covered in the short time of him being here. I honestly wish he could have stayed longer to experience so much more, and am sure many of my friends feel the same way.

We covered Kyoto once more, and were able to trek through more of the historic and traditional treats of Japan. Ise was also lumped in there, and I came to realize that my two friends Keiko and Akiko knew little to none when it came to the history, and Dan schooled us all using his info pamphlet and Japanese guide book. As we went up to pray to various shrines, Dan and I tried hard to observe other worshippers to not do disrupt the flow of things, and to of course be respectful. As we carefully tossed our coins and bowed the correct number of times while clapping and saying a brief silent prayer, I was stopped short by the consistent and loud giggling coming from my right, and was taken aback to see Akiko and Keiko snorting with laughter because they had thrown the coins in the wrong direction and didn’t know what to do….Later they told us they didn’t know how to worship. So much for guide books and careful observations, to heck with it I say. Next couple of shrines we chunked 1 yen coins clapped a couple of times and bowed while talking about where we’d eat lunch.

We hit Nagoya, shopping in the heavy Brazilian populated Osu, making our way to arcade goodness and the infamous karaoke rooms- where we belted it out with our eclectic group of pals. Next day was dedicated to Nagashima Spa Land, rollercoasters on a Monday—which translates into NO lines, NO crowds, and NO limit to how many times we desired to ride. We all got pretty good at identifying where the cameras are positioned on the rides, and posed as if our life depended upon it.

I haven’t told my students about my departure just yet. One of my students cried last week because he finished his contract and is moving. He’s 9. I received flowers and candy from him and his mother and a note that said: I love Sandy. Thank you for teaching me. –Taishi. He drew me a Doreman picture frame that was then laminated and in it was a picture his mom had taken of us a couple weeks back. It was terribly sad, much more than I thought it would be. Up until that moment the kid drove me a bit crazy…and now I think, drats---I’ll miss him. It made me realize that saying goodbye is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

I tried to organize a welcome party for Dan with my students, but of course this is hard to do when the majority of your students are under the age of 10, and I’m sure can’t come out to an izakaya and drink….There was about 15 students and myself, and I was impressed and pleased with not only how awesome my brother mingled with them, but how quickly everyone opened up to one another. It wasn’t the alcohol either, this was all pre-drink.
Of course it triggers more thoughts…
Moving back will be harder than I thought. I’m not stressed though, just realizing that it will be a much larger adjustment than I assumed.

Each day at a time though. Persimmons are in season, got those. The leaves are starting to get lighter, and I’ve spotted some orange and slight red undertones as I biked around today. Nights are cool, no need for the aircon. Fall’s coming-excellent! I’m decorating the classroom tomorrow and thinking it’s time to carve a pumpkin or something.

Someone find me a job that doesn’t require a suit, or a desk and chair and the act of sitting.

Yea

xoxo
SK

C-c-c-cinnamon lips and candy kisses....

2008-09-25T10:29:00.005-07:00

Halloween is coming.

yessss! Costumes and candy (need I say more). These are two of my favorite combos, and throw in a DJ friend and a dance party in Nagoya and all is well.

Inspiration for my costume will come from a childhood idol, hence the picture. My friends and I will morph into Jem and the holograms.

I had her on a sleeping bag, and a pair of jammies I believe, and when I was 18-20-and then once more at the age of 23, I copied her hair to pink and beyond...aww Jem, you rocker babe you.

P.S. I'll be home in exactly 4 months from this date, and be in mourning over the gas prices as I travel to an fro to see you beautiful people in your respected places.

((and mom- I want to lounge around for several days in pajamas watching old movies with you---and perhaps making me an organic pizza that doesn't cost me ten bucks, or the turkey avacado sand. I like, b/c only u know how to do it right....please madre?)) LOOOOVE ME WOMAN.

END.
SK

Never say never.

2008-09-23T07:30:00.002-07:00

Plans change.

I'll be vulnerable and real with you, for whatever it's worth.

I'm scared.

I'm not sure if I'm staying or leaving, and not sure what's waiting for me on the other side...but something's amiss right now and has been for a bit. Circumstances out of my control, and then of course this feeling that can only be described as ‘stir crazy’ and leaves me wanting to pop, but not sure what to be popping on. I feel a 50/50 split, and there is absolutely no peace in my decision to stay put- which tears at my heart immensely. I went as far as flipping a coin over the matter. At least I didn’t resort to a magic 8ball.

I'm comfortable here, but feel like I am being asked to be uncomfortable. Does that make sense?

I think I am purely writing this in hopes, that I can later look back and say something along the lines of ‘cool-God's hand was at work in some way that I couldn't see at the moment.’ Isn't that why I write anyways? - To hopefully prove myself wrong in the end. A good friend told me once, we only write depressing or frustrating events because if we took the time to record all the good- it wouldn't be as therapeutic...it would in fact cheapen the entire experience and box in the great colossal ness of the overall memory and joyful time we want to relive. Instead we write pain, to help channel it out, and rid it from our system. I somewhat agree, because I usually rant on a pessimistic plane. My apologies, dear readers.

I thought I was staying here much-much, longer...

The deadline is always the most dramatic time right, so it's no wonder that I feel like I'm on a chopping block, or about to jump off the platform with the noose around my neck. Dramatic as it may be, I just have no idea what I'm doing now.

Someone just decide for me....

then again, even if you do, I'm not the best listener anyways.

Shout Out.

2008-09-21T05:04:00.005-07:00

I miss my family.

I miss my friends as well.

Why? Because I realize, no---I have always known, that I am blessed with some of the most amazing people in my midst. Thank you for all your contributions and investments in my life...for real.

My family is so solid. Being here sometimes is difficult, as a teacher many of my students desire to learn the language, but more so, they desire to know about my life. Easily, I can be evoked into a state of utter homesickness in just a few short classes where I spend 4 or 5 fifty minute blocks describing things about my Father, telling a story about a fight my brother and I had as children, or sharing the joys of family get togethers in New Mexico, and a Greek grandmother who makes me eat so much I feel like I may burst, and I love her for it. (In fact – I did burst once on the way to the Grand Canyon when I was 8…Thank G-ma).

Sometimes the war comes up…this being WW2. I thought it would be awkward, or difficult, especially for those students who are old enough to have lived through it and remember it, but if anything they look on me with love and respect, and we let the past rest with the past, and know that we want change...

There will always be war. There will, whether due to miscommunication, to injustice, or that of pride. These are things I know. I have pride tattooed on my left wrist and two days ago my student asked why I choose this word. I explained that I believe that all men’s failings begin with pride; whether he esteems himself as higher than he is, or is self depreciating and looks at himself with self-loathing. That too is pride, a reversal of pride, but still pride, since his eyes are still fixated on himself. That being said, I have to look past myself, I need to look at Christ.

It's easy also to become worried, and bogged down with the stress of the world’s ever so fluctuating power and economy, and all the uncertainty. I am constantly asked about what I think about this leader- or this American policy, or the soaring price of oil, and I feel a sweep of anxiety brush over me. Then I have to remember something. A staple that defines all of me, and secures me: I am not home. This isn’t my final resting place.

Hebrews 13:14- For we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come.

Not that I then should avoid such issues, or should remain apathetic to the turmoil’s and cries of a sick world, but that I don't have to live as someone who will break under these pressures, or cease to exist after the world itself fails.

I have hope.
Romans 5:1-5 Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character,; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.

I live hopeless at times though, and I need to be reminded everyday that I am not to despair.

The hurricane that hit my friends had me worried. The trouble with being so far away is you never really know what's going on back home. The media thrives on disaster, and the coverage almost sent me into a panic. Damage to my Aunts house and friends without electricity is about as bad as it got on my end, but my prayers went out to those that lost more than just electricity.

I have to pay several bills that I've let accumulated, although I am still not in the red...I'm procrastinating hoping that they'll magically evaporate into nothingness. Dan's arrival has me pumped; I only wish it were for longer. I've tacked on more classes, slipping back into overtime in hopes to cushion the blow of the airline ticket that I need to pay off--and it never hurts to meet more people along the way, new students usually become new friends I find.

Last night I went out with a group of friends, and wondered why the stares were a bit intense in my direction. That's when it was pointed out that we looked like the ideal pin up for some kind of advertisement, as we had quite a few international bases covered. That's hard to do in my small town on a quiet weekday. It was hard not to laugh as I sat with a man from Sri Lanka, a Japanese guy, and a Filipino woman...and of course me. We did all look a bit stereotypical-by default I suppose. This job has swung the doors open for me to not only truly experience Japanese culture by living here, but also expose me to the wide variety of other foreigners.

I'm making friends who hopefully in a few years time, I will get to visit their home countries, and do life with them on their turf- and vice versa of course. I daydream sometimes of what it will be like to let them meet my family, or some friends...the whole thing seems pretty awesome.

I decided that if you're going to eat curry then you should let the man from Sri Lanka make it, and it's only good if it's so spicy you might cry a little, and of course- you must eat with your hands. And if you're going to have a tea ceremony than do it with your Japanese girlfriends, cross legged and under a huge umbrella in the rain out looking a very traditional Japanese setting giggling as you eat sweet bean treats.

I have three days off due to an odd ball holiday, and despite the usual trend of exploration and exhaustion of the body, I think I'll hibernate like a bear, practice writing in Hiragana, and catch up on some long overdue skype calls.

I started painting again; therapeutic at best. My Japanese grammar book intimidates me, but I'm tired of being a lazy learner; and for whatever reason I've slipped back into the coffee addiction. I drink so much caffeine my heart may explode within my chest. This of course is irrelevant so much like the randomness that hit these pages. The above pictures are of course to show off some of my new developing skills-that of ninja. Just some pics from last weekeneds excursion involving some camping in MIE, some hiking through 48 waterfalls, and of course-IGA's ninja museum.

I don’t know why, but I feel like I am becoming more like a woman, and less like a little girl, and yet I feel it’s presumptuous of me to think that. That, and I’m not sure if this now means that I am held accountable for so much more….

And now time for light heartedness to abound once more. You are all missed,

SK
xoxo

I want a proper breakfast Taco....

2008-09-05T09:00:00.002-07:00

Oh wow. I have procrastinated so much so. It pains me to scan through these blogs, I feel like so much has happened- as it usually is with life. The day to day writing would be burdensome (perhaps more on you, the reader), but the spurts on here don’t do much justice to what’s been going on.

Behind the scenes, a lot is going on…like I am faced with some obstacles of just deciding the course of my future…here? Grad school? Here? …or somewhere else?

The problem isn’t the lack of choices, the problem is the amazing opportunities—what to do? So for now, I’m truly chillin’. I have decided to decide only for today, and say that “if the Lord wills…”- then I’ll make something of tomorrow. That’s taken from scripture anyways, and I do believe it is a healthy outlook, for who knows if there will even be a tomorrow….

And I mean that in a very non pessimistic way, truly.

Financially it’s always a pull when I have to factor in visits and traveling (which I would like to do more of). Can we please grow wings?—because oil sure isn’t getting any cheaper….sigh.
BUT-
I have a plane ticket, to America—late Jan and early Feb. I will make my way home to visit. But I have decided to go back to Japan after the visit. 4 months more, but this is subject to change based on a variety of factors. I may be living back in the States by June- but then again, I may not. The plan was to come back June, but plans change as I have come to realize. I want to see as many of you as I can because you’re all phenomenal and I love and miss you all, but family of course is top priority- trust me on this, you don’t want to get in the way of my mother, she’s a fighter.

After being 8 months here, I finally have become a bit more proactive on my independent studying of Japanese. I’m trying to rid myself of the tendency to be apathetic in all areas of my life, and especially of that and my knowledge. I realize I take shortcuts. Part of this change is of course, spiritual revelation (that sounds quite pretentious), the latter part of the decision is the awesome friends I have made who speak little English and yet struggle and labor away to learn so that they can comfortably hang out with me….It’s my turn to get busy and do some work- they’re worth it.

Lots on my mind, but hard to articulate. It’s typhoon season, so far no one’s blown away or been close to it that I know of. They predict a huge earthquake to occur in Nagoya- although I thought these things couldn’t be predicted. I still haven’t experienced one. The thought of the ground shaking below my feet doesn’t really bother me. After all, every morning I feel that from my neighbors stereo, and of course mine as well….
Then again, if the earth shook apart and swallowed me whole, that would be quite a predicament.
Today I spent an entire hour writing Ebonics on the white board and reading slang aloud. We took an entire conversation in one of the text books and converted it to nothing but street slang. It was hilarious. I’m not sure which was better, hearing my 34 old student claim that the translation to one of the sentences should be as followed: “Aww gurl! Hellz No! I dun ask’d him n he sayz: ‘aight!’”, or watching the managers face as he walks by the classroom door.
One of my new students looks like a bowling ball. He’s three and I never noticed the resemblance until I was bowling tonight and as I held the ball, I realized it looked amazingly similar to little Shunsuke. I’ve decided to learn how to say this in Japanese to inform his mother, and then when she looks at me odd, I can have the manager play clean up by having him try and explain the miscommunication…
Manager- nervous laughter as he glares at me from the corner of his eyes: “Oh she’s trying to learn Japanese, what she really meant is that he looks so fun and happy!”
Me- in perfect Japanese: “Nope, your kid totally looks like a big, round, bowling ball. In fact sometimes I just push him over in class to watch him roll.”
…what a great first conversation that will be.
On the down side, another student has been giving me a great deal of grief. Probably issues at home, or his age, but nonetheless he has violent spurts and isn’t aware of his own strength. I’ve had to come up with a bell system to alert the manager when he’s acting up- because often he’ll try and physically lash out against me. Once he almost managed to break my glasses, and several times he has struck me. He’s 10-it’s not a fun class. Any suggestions? I tried good ol’ duct tape and a gag only to be removed when he needed to repeat the phrases…but the manager thought it was a bit much…
I’ll be hiking up a mountain and going camping this Sunday with some friends, and then making our way to a hot springs on the way down. This time I will try not to pass out naked and end up slightly concussed and with a lump on the back of my head. I’m ready for red leaves and cool breezes, time to kick this summer heat and get ready for the winter winds.

Much love.
SK

I thought writing this would help me get off the breakfast taco thing, but I miss Esther's mexican food like crazy right now....

Photos

2008-08-06T09:15:00.002-07:00

Simply giving you the pictures from Kuwana's Ishidori Festival...

the loudest and craziest festival in all of Japan. Unfortunatly my pictures do no justice to truly capture the excitement and chaos. I'm realizing that I am the laziest photographer; my regards. Enjoy despite this fact:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2213010&l=da298&id=29623987

<3
SK

Why hello!

2008-08-05T09:39:00.003-07:00

Back from Thailand.

I'll write more later---here's the latest photos consisting of summer here's and there's and everywheres.

I'll upload the Kuwana festival soon, and write a proper update, but for now, this will have to do. I'm beat, and my stomach's still talking a riot after consuming beverages with ice cubes (tis a no-no to do in Thailand, I knew better too).

Gee golly. Love and miss you all. Laters. <3 SK

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2212730&l=a76a3&id=29623987

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2212731&l=d8103&id=29623987

"Speaking comes easy for you, but I chhhoke...."

2008-07-25T08:57:00.002-07:00

I leave for Thailand tomorrow (yessssss!!!)-the tan lines from being on my bike are rad, and thankfully soon to disappear. I want to eat hot food in the hottest of heat, and ride a large elephant, and sit in a temple for a long time. And I have to bring back "souvenirs" for a five little girls who surely will be sore if they don't get something since I made them learn the word and then laughed at them for having to do cram school during their supposed summer vacation.

Sumo pics and Thailand pics to come.

But this isn't an update. This is more of an explosion of my brain once more. I've consumed about 5 journals being here, and still manage to leak the more tame versions unto this blog-alog. Insane. Rolling up on 7 months, and not wanting it to end anytime soon--I think.

Explosion time:
For the sake of time I am being quite frugal with my words, but in reality ideas and convictions are flooding and swirling my soul and mind, and I am doing no justice to my internal state-but I'm making some sort of effort. I was reading in James-I got to about chapter four and for the last three days I keep coming to a stop about around chapter 3. Taming of the tongue. Hello Holy Spirit burning me with truth and hurt. My mouth has always been a HUGE problem. I can blame circumstances-even other people (why not, it's easy). But it's only circumstances and people who can make what's always been there stand out a bit clearer. It was, and always has been, there. A prideful, arrogant attitude which is used skillfully and tastefully to deploy a distraction and a facade of cool, when in reality there is a strong woman who is unaware of the great strength and how it truly will carry her farther without need of words---but for fear of hypocrisy and criticism of her faith and her voice she covers and resorts to boasts, and crass un-sensible and fantastical fantasies, a storyteller and rambler at best.
This short part has explained me better than maybe anything I've ever written-and shows me just how stupid I am because I am the hypocrite, and only betray self, as I am an unbeliever that God is able to silence even me and live out loud through me in the form of love without favoritism, in the fashion of deeds (NOT religious scales-or church points) DEEDS-that truly help others in need—whether great or small, to make me a verb (a action word-put it all into motion), to really make me a vessel...not another sermon point, or more talk of doing something. And, to give me that deep, pure, Joy.
hello, wake up darling...your true love has already arrived and has equipped with you with what you need today. Tomorrow's not a worry because tomorrow may not come-and hey, today's where it's at.
I couldn't really run in the heat today, but walking around gave me the chance to look around a bit more and notice that as summer's heavy in, the surroundings are looking more and more jungle-esque. I have no idea why I'm breaking the spiritual rant, perhaps b/c I'm scared of examination of self. It's hard peeling back layers and peering past the mirror-sometimes we don't like what we see.
Today I can say that I do like what I see b/c I'm starting to be unrecognizable and know that I have no strength left, other than what God is giving me for the day. I'm ok with that. Even in the heat today I managed to get my lazy butt out of bed and walk the route. And much like my life, I hope that it’s some kind of symbolic measure. I may not always have the "umph" and drive to full out sprint the path, but I'll at least carry it on...even if at times it means I have to be crawling along.

…Although the neighbors may find that a bit disturbing to see.

explosion over/ I refuse to proof read this or check to see if the flow of thought makes any sense b/c I feel like just slamming it down...and I'm tired and have elephants to ride and touristy things to get done starting tomorrow-so resting is a must.

peace<3
SK

You WILL read me.

2008-07-09T06:09:00.004-07:00

Okay people- So it's official- I love the police of Japan who have not only found my BIKE,(YESSSSSS!!!), but have it in safe keeping with a wad of cash nearby b/c I think they caught the dirty hooligan who jacked it. (Pay up dirt-bag.)--remind me to learn that helpful phrase in Japanese.

and…

I got a haircut. I don't like dishing out cash for a new 'do, I'd rather butcher it myself. However, if you do happen to find yourself in Japan, a haircut is a must; much like eating sushi, experiencing an onseen, embarrassing yourself in karaoke, or being too loud on a train, you MUST get a hair cut!

Complete with massage, a snack, some good reading, and full out shampoo and condition session that will leave you tingly and make your knees buckle-it’s divine.

Now, given the nature of my Japanese ability-the full lack of- I primarily act out my desires which I find quite difficult to do when dealing with hair. So I brought a little picture of what I wanted. I'm not one to complain (yea-riiiight, I can hear my mother laughing even now), but I do believe they totally screwed up.

Here's a picture of Ms.Keira Knightley-the babe that she is-and although yes, my hair looks like hers, I specifically said in Japanese that I want to be her.

They botched up on the face I think, I mean am I really asking so much out of them??

Bad Japanese aside, it provided all the workers with a good giggle and it wasn't until later that I realized I had been saying it incorrectly.

Tomorrow I collect the bike and peddle around feeling glorious. Thailand's been booked and we added another traveler to make the overall cost of hotel /bungalow /hostel’s a mere 40 bucks for the 7 days we'll be there. Fantastic! Sailing was a blast, and the Sumo goes down this weekend.

Tell me some good news back home--what's going on?

Love much!

SK

genki des?

2008-06-30T05:23:00.002-07:00

Update- Ok.
I never know how to start these things, so I'll take to it like I do a pool in summer-and just jump in; I'm not a toe tester-I'd rather get it done.

I realized that I have no chance of ever being normal, and will therefore embrace this fact. I'm not sure why I feel this way, but I do.
I've spent the last two weeks in a blur of birthday celebrations and nights out that bleed into mornings where we converse greatly about our next steps to explore different areas of the world, and swap advice and bits of information that can help guide each one on their own individual journey. Who knows where we'll all scatter off to next? There's been much talk since some of the friends I have will be moving elsewhere- I can't say I'm ok with it, in fact I'll terribly miss them. Especially Kate, as she goes back to London...guess I'll just have to go there and visit, and drink tea and say ‘ello a lot.
I can't help but laugh at myself lately as I nab my friends cameras and see incriminating photos of myself that look more questionable than the actual event and wonder when they'll hit the facebook--and groan as I think of having to answer the questions that will invade my inbox from friends saying: "Do you even work??"

Look people-I work. I do work. Yea, so back off already.
And I mean it in the nicest, but most blunt way possible.

B/c like we'd really want a bunch of photos of me in the classroom, or napping in the corner of my desk as I hide from "lobby talk" and avoid trying to answer the phone in my disjointed and shamefully bad Japanese..."Arigato Gozimas Eikiwa GEOS..." Or would you like to see an album of me huddled in various noodle shops and cafes in between classes with my friends as we fumble around for the right words for whatever conversation we're talking about.

Mayhem. Sometimes that's what my life feels like. I think I’ve embraced an attitude of live life to the fullest-and I have been going strong trying to take it all in, there's good to this- but I see the dangers. After almost 7 months you began craving more stability, and I, my friends, am a very unstable person. Lately I have realized that living in a foreign country should never be an excuse to compromise the simple-ness of resting and taking a sit out to think, to pray, to recollect. To pray. At times I want to do it all-but I end up burning out and forcing myself through while tired, and broke, making errors in judgment and thus cheapening the "experience" I was so looking forward to.

I'm learning to pace myself. It does make it hard though, when at each corner you have a different tempting avenue and never know which one to take.

I'm allowing a bit of a splurge and taking off for a holiday in Thailand for about 8days. I've booked the flights and am fairly confident I have enough funds to not be forced into the corner of eating only rice and tuna when I get back and going without the AC as I sit by candlelight in my apt. I'm pumped to be spending time in Bangkok-and may try and locate a buddy I had meet while camping during Golden Week. The beach will be nice to escape to when I tire of the city and have had my full of touristy-sight seeing.

More b-day's this weekend, a sailing trip, and sumo are on the agenda before the trip.

Now for the more personal part:

Confessional moment.
I'm living my dream---but realities of life are always quick to remind me that even with the dream, comes much work and heartache. I, for the first time since my first rough transitional month in Japan, felt genuine homesick. Perhaps this ache for home is more for family, as I realize that my dream to live abroad and to travel and meet new people means purposely creating the distance between me and them. It’s a hard thing for me to choke down. I'm not sure why this is hard for me to admit, as I feel I should master that feeling or something, but I think the greatest strength is recognizing your weakness. I've been thinking of future things, but as far as I can see, I have no real direction at the moment. I am a mass wad of confusion on the matter, and appear to change my idea everyday. I believe I reached the consensus that I was absolutely useless at making any sort of decision at the moment when I found myself sitting at the aquarium this weekend watching a fantastic dolphin show and proclaiming out loud to friends that I would be going back to school for marine biology and work with dolphins, or better yet live on a boat. I thought this brilliant. It wore off somewhere around the time when we were shooting off fireworks at the beach and I then decided I couldn't be bothered to go back to school, as the ocean was my calling and I needed to promptly grow dreads, keep playing the big jimbae on my lap, and move with my friend back to Australia and start surfing again.
My mind is a mad house at the moment-with all these "what if's?", and possibilities. I think it's time to cut out some of the extra curricular activities and start focusing a bit more on goals, and Christ. But then again, I am not a woman of my word...I say this because it's true. I often fall back on what I say, but I know I need to realign things quickly. Where did my backbone go? What I think I am seeing is that as you live out one dream, you become unsatisfied and start embarking on a new one. I'm trying to read Ecclesiastes with a friend, and though my efforts have been quite half hearted, I am seeing that there is great wisdom when Solomon points to the fact that all things are meaningless, and that it's all in the timing. I won't profess to know how this can be readily applied, but I think that God allowed me to have a dream fulfilled in living and working abroad, yet in my own weird way, I am boxing Him in. He can break this box of course- being that He is God and all. I think it's probably time, I started letting Him mold the future and give me new dreams, rather than me trying to create realities for myself that lead to me pursuing "meaningless" treasures that will accumulate and mean nothing to me at the end of my life. I've also adopted some nasty little habits in these last few months, and I could blame it on this and that-but the truth is it's my doing, and it's about time I stopped whining about things because that's never solved anything, rather I need to weigh the costs of these habits and bring to light some truth—the truth is worth repeating, and if it gets repetitive then oh well, best not forget who you are I think.
Confession over...

Tomorrow I have all kid classes. I'm ready to see their silly faces and throw a colored dodge ball with them and yell our ABC's. I'm ready to color, and sing, dance, and make them chant English phrases… and more importantly, enjoy getting to be a kid again.

and Jenny K, if you're reading...give me your secrets on how you're so cool and fit-I want to run a Nagoya marathon and climb mt. Fuji, and as far as I'm concerned your the queen of run and candy.

Much love,
SK

IS THAT MY BIKE!?!?!?!!

2008-06-11T17:40:00.004-07:00

Last night Tsukasa took me to the police station to file a report, and fill out an "offense form". After sitting in a tiny room next to a tissue box and pretending to understand the Japanese while trying to write the Katakana for me address, I was asked, "How much?" How much what?--I thought.
How much money I want in return- if the persecuters caught.

So if they catch the jerk who blew off with my bike I can pick the punishment, and get 8,000 yen in my hand from them.

I'm leaning towards execution, or a life sentence.

to harsh? whatcha think...?

Half way through the work week, *whew*

***

2008-06-10T08:02:00.003-07:00

I'm a whirlwind of busy, socially and work-wise. Rainy season's approaching, and yet summer plans are being hashed out; probably the heat that is making everyone crazy...in a good way I think. Weekends blur into the week, and I find that I have now managed to spread three or four toothbrushes at various residences because I never know where I'll end up, and am all to okay with breezing into work at the nick of time and appearing to have it all together. Even my students have the glazed over look of summer- the longing for some beachside/vacation time.
Naruto was beautiful, but I only caught glimpses here and there since I was in training, and not on free time. But I did get to spot some nice beachside areas, as well as scout out for the whirlpools it’s supposed to be famous for.
My Kyoto trip was amazing, but two days is just not enough. Michiko was nice enough to treat me to the entire trip and provide me loads of information, and enough time to wander around. I think the trip was more appreciated in the company of an older Japanese woman, who could share some of her favorite memories as well as give the history; to be honest; I liked hearing her memories more and was pleased she shared so much with me.
I've crashed at a beach house - belongs to a friend, and I can tell it'll become quite the habit of mine as soon as the rain lets up. I have sailing, sumo, and some intense dance parties to look forward too, not to mention the trip to Thailand I’m going on with four others. In addition to this, a shift change in my schedule, which is sadly decreasing my kid classes, but providing me with a surge of adult classes---it's a good thing, and a bad thing. I love my crazy kids, I hate when they don’t renew.

I feel overwhelmed at times because of communication. The very thing I love, and am good at becomes my burden and downfall at times. Some days I feel a stress inside because I'm just tired of communicating. I just want to shut down-and shut up. On average, I feel I meet a new person every day, and at times I find myself wondering if I'm a friend- or merely a free English lesson. It can be a challenge fumbling for how to explain certain concepts, and their recently has been the need to go deeper, gestures-and simple vocabulary can only do so much, and it’s become hard to express how one feels to another with limited language on both ends. On these occasions of immense overloaded, which feels like a bombardment of communication, I go home with the Ipod in my ears, but not even on- and then I sit in my large tub, light some candles, blast some bad indie music, and tell myself that tomorrows not even promised…so chill out.

I'm stoked about my brother coming, you all should come. I have 6 futons. You can even have your own blanket.

Some punk stole my bike despite it having some high-tech super lock. I'm bummed, but not really worried. I like walking, and haven't mastered the whole riding a bike and umbrella hold thing-although my madding skills of text messaging while peddling through busy streets was quite impressive! I'll get a new one after June. It’ll be red, and this time I’ll put an alarm system on that beast, and get the back grid that goes over the wheel so a friend can sit on back.

Here's some pics of Kyoto:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2200542&l=207c7&id=29623987

"Should I stay, or should I go?"

2008-05-26T08:25:00.003-07:00

I made the mistake of purchasing cheap bath salts, and drowning myself in a mint tub. I guess it was worth the 100 yen, so what if it turned the tub blue, at least I escaped without looking like a smurf.
I think the only reason I'm typing is because I'm waiting for my nail polish to dry.

I find it interesting and humorous how my perspectives can change so quickly, this probably adds to my fickle nature- apparently I am told that I am fickle, I view that to have such a negative connotation, and would rather be seen as evolving. I like to evolve.
Picky
Erratic
Unpredictable
Vacillating
Capricious
Changeable
Inconsistent
Indecisive
Of two minds
…the various synonymous of fickle. Sadly, despite the poor undertone, I believe there’s some element of truth. I’m fickle. Aren’t we all? Some more than others I suppose. I’d like to believe that I am an open book, I rip myself open daily to others and self, and perhaps I’m a bit more honest than the majority, I’ll admit that I can be a flake, and yea-I don’t always know what I want or need, some days it changes and I’m quick to fly off and do what I like.

I see the problems of living a life too erratic leading into the self-indulgent trend.

I’m reading a couple of books at the moment despite having little time for leisure reading, trains and buses make this quite easy to do thankfully. My mind has been lazy-I think my friends leaving college will soon experience this oddity, as you no longer are forced to cram and be current with events for sake of lectures and projects due the next day. I feel ashamed for what I am about to do, partly because I feel like I should give you something more profound. I have various books from famous and well versed people in their time- I should be pulling a quote from Dostoevsky, not necessarily Nick Hornsby who writes like an average Joe about pop culture-which in itself is not so bad since I do enjoy it and find my inner voice sounding quite similar---but then again, I’m average after all.
As I read, and forgive me for not giving you some deep philosophical rant to marvel on for long, but for me this stood bold in my mind, I think I have thought this very thought and not been able to really pin it. In describing a musicians performance Hornsby writes, “One half of her art is aspiring towards the condition of the other half, and that must be weird, to feel so divinely inspired and so fallibly human, all at the same time. Maybe it’s only songwriters who have ever had any inkling of what Jesus felt on a bad day.”
I read it and chuckled out loud, knowing the author is tacking on sarcasm as an atheist, but nonetheless, I’ve often felt that way. As of late, I’m finding it a challenge to just listen to music for the sake of the music- I’m focused on the message and the poetry found, or not found in some of my younger selections. I just wouldn’t call NOFX poetry of the soul, although it still can get me amped-up for the morning.
The quote hit me on a varitey of levels- partly because I constantly am trying to express myself in some way or form, and often feel so inspired, the best of course-when inspired by the Lord, but yet-I am also all to aware of the fallibleness of me.
(is falliblness even a word??)
Prior to the read, I was replaying a passage of song in my brain, and thought of its ability to touch down on such massive truth with a few simple words and a strum of a guitar.
***
"Misread"-Kings of Convience
How come no-one told me
All throughout history
The loneliest people
Were the ones who always spoke the truth
The ones who made a difference
By withstanding the indifference
I guess it's up to me now
Should I take that risk or just smile?
***
Despite this trend of mine, to be analyzing my music selection to an exhausting level, and listen to only a few artists at the moment, I still find that singing Ferga-licious, all of Stefani, any old ballad where the notes go excruciatingly high, and the Disney Blend consisting of the best of Disney in one long melody, are of course the best for karaoke at the moment.
Enough of that hype.
Life in Japan at the moment. I love my bike to much, hopefully this will result in me conquering the heat of the summer and biking through. I’ve come along since the hills of San Marcos; they truly are no match for Kuwana’s. I love meeting the new people at the church I started crashing in on…shout out to Jenny Kay, who I know stalks my blog.  I’m traveling more in the last few weeks, seeing more of Japan and having adventures once more with a load of new faces and of course my other good pals …it’s real good. My student and friend, Michiko, has arranged to take me to see and explore Kyoto for two days, her treat. I was shocked to find out that she was 59; the lady has so much more energy than me. I admire the spark, and love hearing about her travels. Looking forward to that trip and kicking it in a really traditional setting.

I also realize that many of my Japanese friends view foreigners as passers through a revolving door- that door being Japan. They come for a bit, and then are gone. Some come again, then leave once more…It’s understandable, we (I speak loosely) come for the experience of it all. Yet some make such strong bonds and they start rooting themselves here. I am torn. I love it here. I don’t see the hype of revolving doors anyways-there’s always some fool blocking up the smooth flow.

But then again, I am fickle...and I just realized my nail polish is well beyond dry.

Later.

<3

RYAN CASTLE LIPMAN!

2008-05-14T07:18:00.004-07:00

Dear Ryan, read my blog more often. I will throw your name about in hopes that you will so I can properly annoy you even from my comfy shoebox apt in Japan.

This one is dedicated to you and your friendly entourage that enjoys skyping me at work and showing me various appliances and Nintendo controllers as you giggle and ask me to show off the classroom. You classy people.

I'm spending a lot of my late hours wikipeding (yea-I made it a verb-b/c I can!). I'm finding too much I don't like....its hard coming to grips with reality, most of my so called idols, no-role models, if you will are living rooted in lies and distortion. I know nothing. I am super naive to what's around me and their ignorance only shines light on mine for being so foolhardy to claim them and not what's substantial. This substance being Christ (yea- I said it). I'll be the first to admit that I can be the biggest idiot, I'm not some superhuman theologian, or philosophical mind but I know now that the only thing that's solid is Christ- that's all I can claim, and that's all I really know...and even my knowing is so limited you know.?...

This is a rant for tonight.

Thanks to those who have showed me a glimpse of some truth, and talked me through much, pointing me in the right direction. Hmmm.

Ooh-wikipidea, I should pick up a book or something. Someone mail me a book, b/c reading Japanese is well-ha, I'm not there yet people. I'm not there....yet.

Do you really have time for this one? I mean really...?

2008-05-04T04:55:00.003-07:00

"Update your blog."-says my father as we sit there Skype-ing and I can clearly see that he is getting bored with the excessive ramblings of me. Does he forget I can see that he’s looking away, we both have videos…then I remember my father always looks away when I talk…then I remember just how much I talk…therefore it’s excusable I do believe. I think that at some point in my life I need to make my way back to school, earn a masters, and spend my latter years being a professor and rambling off, dressing eccentric, and spacing out in mid lecture...it would suit me well since I've had years of practice.

Golden Week= ten days of no class, and ten days of pure random. As if my life weren't one big ball of random already. We ditched the hitchhike Japan plan for the first 5 days, and then decided that the beach is quite accessible. So we went for the good ol' back to man and nature...and monkey's....and snow...and onseens...and hospitals...and evil purple tented neighbors...

By now you're thinking, "Why the heck am I reading this??" "What is she even talking about??" "Crazy child." Admit it, I draw you in...My little poppets.

I did the responsible adult like thing and checked the weather before leaving, and was pleasantly pleased to see 70degree weather by day and temps of about 45 at night. No sweat- I thought as I packed one fleece pull over, one t-shirt, extra pair of jeans, some light socks, and a hoodie with a hole under the armpit...no sweat....and literally I did not sweat because I failed to realize that the temperature for Nagano was for just that-Nagano, and didn't capture the true conditions in which we would be camping in...the mountains-Kamicochi. Yes, I am an idiot. So, as we hike halfway up the mountain (my idea b/c I want a better view than the first campsite), I wondered why everyone was gawking at me, and why they were dressed in thermals, wind suits, and snow gear. I also was fascinated that they bothered with snow boots, as I sported my cheapo 3000 yen Nikes. My clarity point came when I actually bothered to stop looking at my feet and glanced up the mountain-oooh snow is still there. Humph. So the first two nights I managed to get by after borrowing extra layers, buying thermal socks, and wearing every article of clothing I could find as well as inappropriately groping the other campers at night and trying to weasel underneath them in the peak chill points of the night. If I ever had an urge to use the restroom at night I would convince myself that I would surely freeze as I squatted and then would have to be thawed in the morning by a troop of old Japanese men who had amazing gear, and made us look like chumps.

So I held it, and I somehow managed to survive. The first morning I was relieved to find all toes were still in tact as I dreamed that I felt them break off from chill.

4 campers- myself, Emma, Megan, and Collin. As Emma gracefully put: "If it weren't for Collin we surely would have froze, or been eaten by monkeys." The monkeys emerged after the first night, and added extra hilarity to our situation. It is to be noted that monkeys are not as friendly in the wild and will rise against you and perhaps chase you...so please refrain from trying to hand them things like sunglasses or trying to pet them. We decided to some exploring further down the mountain where it was warmer and I didn't need every layer known to man. The quick rise in temp and lack of fluids took its toll on me, but I figured it was from lack of sleep and eating to much ice cream instead of protein. We took a bus to an onseen and although my body told me to hydrate and sit in the shade and chill, I said to heck with it!!-this onseen's only 600 yen and plunged into a steaming bath of goodness overlooking the mountains. The fatal combination left me sprawled naked on the floor seconds later with a nasty gash on my head after passing out in the locker room and hitting it on a marble step. It was quite and experience to regain consciousness while two British girls (Meg and Emma) trying to ice me down while placing me in the "safety position", and having numerous Japanese women darting about trying to understand the English cries from their mouths.....all while naked of course...all of us naked.

When the ambulance came I had finally regained hearing and feeling and thought it would cost me a grand to pay for the ride into the closest town, so tears streamed my cheeks, and one man held my hand and said..."dijabou (no worries), pretty eyes you just have bad head." After being told I had no charge for the hour ride to Takayama, I felt relieved and quite enjoyed the plump nurse who would wrap me in warm blankets and rub my feet and practice her English. A couple of x-rays later I was diagnosed with not a fractured skull but a nasty cut, and a slight concussion and was good to go. All in all- the bill wasn't bad and it scored us sympathy with locals which meant a sweet tip in on the coolest hostile ever owned by the most eccentric man named Tomie, with an entourage of guests that literally were from all over the world and equally as awesome. If anything, bumping my head scored us big as we spent the next day hitting the markets and meeting some really amazing people...we even found a decent Mexican restaurant...divine.

Back up the mountain we went after the hostile stay and the shopping day. This time we all agreed to relocate further down the mountain closer to civilization, and by this I mean touristy shops, bathrooms, and vending machines, and more people (insert purple tent people). These people thought it would be a great idea to pitch tent right next to us- all fine and good, unless of course they do this at 4:36 in the morning LOUDLY. I loathed them, as I stuck my gauzed wrapped wild haired head out of the tent and wildly glared at them, they simply stared back and then proceeded to take the rocks from our campfire and make their own....truly evil. We made friends fast with other neighbors and some wonderful English campers, a mother and her son Yon, and conspired against them on our last night as we loudly swapped stories, eating and drinking around a roaring fire that we kept going into the latest hours of the nights.

All in all- more mishaps happened, and plenty of delays and adventures in those short days, which I won’t type because this is hitting a record length and it’s bad for your eyes to read stuff on the computer anyways. Aren’t I thoughtful!? If anything, the misadventures, and the randomness that unfolded showed me that I am so not in control. Do you sense the continuous theme? And the unexpected is always lurking around the corner. I was given this book once from a friend, he highlighted this one line: Sometimes the only thing you can do in life is control your reaction. I think there's some truth to that. The few times I pulled away to sit and read and reflect, I found myself in awe of God's creation around me, and in awe of the generosity of such good friends and random people that made sure I was okay, or how they without thinking would lend money or share whatever little they had. I think there's a lot to be said about that as well, and I think that they showed me what I hope Christ really instills in me, patience, love, selflessness, and a true servant mentality-and consistency, because I am anything but that. Looking out for your own self is so one way, and it's a lonely path I think.

After scrubbing off tree bark, and other various random things that attached themselves to me underneath the layers, I spent the rest of the night chilling. Golden Week's still not done. I ran around town in a lazy manner with a friend today and found myself riding a tandem bike with a skirt on- I have mad skills besides teaching. I then managed to do some bargain shopping and may find myself riding a spiffy and reasonably priced bike to school on wed. Fit for a queen, complete with basket, bell, and a classic trim- if I do say so myself. I'll name her Loraine, and use her to pump me through the heat that has quickly touched down in Kuwana City. On my run today I could feel the humid seeping in me, and had to laugh as I glanced at the mountains in front of me...just two nights ago I was freezing, now it's hard to breathe it's so stuffy.

I'm also splitting the cost of a surfboard with a friend who has a sweet beachside home, courtesy of his stellar new public school job. He's about two hours away, but it's such a cheap stick I can't resist, about three times less than what I paid in the states. Second hand shops here in Japan are truly fabulous, I may see if I can work at one. Ha-ha-quit teaching and work in a thrift store in Japan...

Yea-I would do something like that.

Here are pics of Golden Week so far from Mr. Collin Rucker, who has amazing skills with his new camera, enjoy:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2193384&l=d91ca&id=29617451

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2193382&l=227af&id=29617451

Spring Things

2008-04-08T07:15:00.003-07:00

Here are pics of the spring flowers. It would be very appropriate to dedicate to my mother, my aunts (A.Stephanie, and A.Megan), and my grandmother's because they are the one's who truly appreciate flowers, and often try their luck at gardening themselves.
The first album is of my pictures, but my camera is lame and it's starting to break. The second is courtesy of my friend Kate's camera...a much better quality.
Enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2188429&l=fb2e4&id=29623987

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=32836&l=bfbce&id=502262174

I'm reading Ernest Hemingway...this isn't even a proper title...

2008-04-04T05:56:00.003-07:00

I'm eating Pocky...ha. I feel the need to share certain random normal occurrences about what is average for me here.

All the years I spent in theater class paid off. It's enjoyable watching certain shy students squirm as I insist they act out adjectives, and whatever else is on their mystery cards. Role playing is frequent, if not used in every class, and I do believe that my students are beginning to really enjoy exploring their creative sides, if not thrive. One thing you learn is that the Japanese are not very big on promoting creativity, in school that is. Yet that is the only way I know how to learn and teach anything, using the imagination and adding creativity.

My favorite game this week was using cards with various adverbs, having students pick a fruit and say the name of the fruit like the adverb. For example: my card- romantically, and my fruit- strawberry. So naturally I sighed, tossed back my hair, said it slowly and wispy like, while blowing my students kisses. We called the game passion fruit. The best part was handing the extreme introverts the cards which had drunkenly and crazily written on them. Ha!

I hear various Disney songs which are condensed to a five minute presentation that is cranked to an ear shattering level and which plays every hour on the hour-after 5pm everyday that I work. This charade isn't complete unless the shopping center fountain, located right outside my class is lit up with techno lights, and shoots sprays of water in the air...which is timed so perfectly with the Disney madness. I now hate all Disney songs...forever. (Maybe being a bit dramatic)

Talking is overrated; non verbalism has saved my life everyday when I reach the max amount of Japanese vocabulary. My facial expressions are my means of communication, and often I feel like I have morphed into some kind of entertainer as I wildly gesture my way about my city.

Boy's don't honk at me when I walk down the street anymore like in the states, instead they ring their bike bells as they zoom past and the more introverted one's will yell "Hullo" (notice it is NOT "hello"). This however will only occur if there are more than two boys, because I am convinced that all Japanese boys are painfully shy. It is to be noted that bicycle bells aren't a very masculine way of getting attention from a girl, as many of the bells have a very pleasant “ding-a-ling” to them.

My friend Shou makes mix-CDs for me, and I return the favor. We swap them on buses, coffee shops, or if we can, when we meet up in the mall. Often we just exchange the CD's and fumble through a conversation since half the time we can't understand each other. I think we tell each other what's on our mind through the music, and it's pretty cool. It makes me think of making mix tapes for friends in junior high and swapping decks by the bus yard. Although, Shou's last CD would lead to me believe that is either stressed over University exams, or is in serious need of some Prozac because the last dreary CD left me wanting to listen to techno beats, or pop music to rid myself of the depressing droning.

I have a nickname. It's Sandy Sarada. It means simply: Sandy Salad. One of my classes of little boys thinks it's the funniest thing. So I let them call me it, and sometimes I draw a large salad on the board and their faces are the carrots and the tomatoes, they think it's genius. Kids are awesome.

Managers in this company take a pretty hard hit, the business side of things can be quite cut-throat, like I have never seen it before. It's not uncommon for your school's manager to break down and cry. When this happens, I'm glad to say my hugs have all been received well, and I usually trot down to Starbucks to buy them relief....(this relief is being charged to a visa card that is magically billed back in the States! oops...sorry parents....love me?) So far only two cried this week...that's like a record I think.

In the classroom it's all 100% native English speaker time. We don't do anything Japanese, I handshake firmly while looking in the eye, we practice giving our opinion, debating, and we often talk about emotions as well as show them. Outside the classroom I switch gears into the old saying: "When in Rome..." and unlike Mr. Burgundy I get it right. I bow, I talk quietly if at all on the buses or trains, I say "kudasi" (please) after almost everything, I show little emotion when not with friends since it's usually seen as inappropriate, and I make sure to not disrupt the "wa" (harmony).

Instead of running past construction sites like in Houston, I run past Zen gardens and the high school. The kids are usually all dresses in bright blue track suits and as of late are playing soccer, or baseball.

I love letters from home, even if they are on a napkin. I've received some random ones and they are all appreciated greatly.

That's all I got. This is the randomness that is me.

Love to all,
SK

Not a moment to late,

2008-04-01T09:59:00.003-07:00

check it out, copy and paste these to view some of my pics:

Start of March '08
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid
=35822751&l=6f844&id=29623987

End of March '08
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=35823087&l=48eb1&id=29623987

April 1st- note from the fool.

2008-04-01T04:34:00.000-07:00

Not sure what to write...but I realize it's due time for another on of my ramblings, for whatever that's worth.
Hi people-It's been awhile.
Work doesn’t stress me, I just do it. Hair dye has made it into my hands once more (go figure). British comedies have become my new indulgence for late nights when I can’t seem to stop my brain. The mastering of most public transportation with the exception of taxi drivers who still can’t seem to read my address even though it’s written in Japanese. Tokyo was a blast, seeing Lisa and other friends was well worth the repercussions of two or three sleepless nights and days that blurred together.
Spring is by far the best time in Japan, the country seems to be erupting with color and you can't help but feel cheery, and fresh...except if you suffer from allergies, then good luck to you...luckily I've dodged the bullet, and find it hard to control little giggles that want to escape my lips, or how I desperately long to burst into song while on the bus and train, like a musical. Surly this behavior would only be viewed as the result of me being the foreigner...but i suppress the urges to hug strangers, and skip about the shopping center I work in...Okay, so I skip a little.
This means Hanami parties (Hanami-cherry blossom)! Basically you gather in a large park for the entire week these flowers are in bloom. You set camp underneath these wonderfully beautiful trees and eat, drink, and enjoy just the good company of friends and the sweet weather. It rained for our first Hanami outing, yet this didn’t deter us from having a blast of a time, and meeting the most friendly group of Nigerians who poured us drinks, shared their covering, and made sure we danced and ate their doughnuts…I found myself dancing to traditional Nigerian beats, and be educated on playing soccer by the small children in the rain. Its days like this that make me feel utterly and insanely thankful to God for great friends, and moments of pure release.
I tasted the sweet nectar of having a manager at my school. One that would combat back the evil forces of the monster mommies, one that could speak the native tongue and patiently explain that it's impossible to add more classes to an already full schedule, one that could answer the phone and keep the conversation going far longer than my ability to read only as far as the script and then hit the brick wall..."Uhhh...no Nihongo?....uhh…". And then it happened. She quit, two weeks in and she’s gone. So the GEOs upper heads have once more managed to scare away another essential tool to my success as a teacher. Ah well-　….
Spring has brought forth not only breath taking beauty of the cherry blossoms, and an array of various other flowers, it has also reawakened me to other healthy and helpful truths. I find that I still am the biggest loser I know, but knowing your weakness and problem points is the first step in progress to mending the gaps that glare back at ones self. I only say this because it is true, and if you really know me then you too have experienced my many faults, and it is here I feel the need to apologize, but for what I don't know, because there are many things I’m sure I have screwed up. Perhaps an apology for being a weak friend or a selfish individual to you in the moment of need. I made some resolutions of sorts in the honor of the first day of spring. I have managed to break almost all of them...but today's a new day, right? Full of opportunity. One resolution was to learn the language. This was easy at first to pick up a few key words that prove most helpful. But sadly my vocabulary seems so limited as of late the words that come to my head consist of: hi, later, beer, thanks, excuse me, where, how much, and toilet....you know, the really important words. After three months I would be lucky if more than three sentences can escape my lips in the correct order. I could tell you I have no time or that many of the friends I've meet outside of my students are more interested in bettering their English than teaching me Japanese, and although these are all true they　still only come to me as truly lame excuses…
I'm not sure, but I've been thinking a great deal more about what comes after this job. When I think of where I'm going, I really have no idea. This use to frustrate me, but now I see it as more of a freedom. I really don't mind not knowing, I know that for the moment I'm here.
Today I missed my first food from back in the States. It was a proper taco smothered with salsa...really-really hot salsa. Mmm. I think I’ll substitute this hunger pain by eating my seaweed rice bowl, and drinking the left over lemon Chu-hi someone left in my fridge.

Pictures soon. Much love to all of you, you are missed.

sandykay