A Matter Of Perspective

Today has been a crazy day.  I've argued with people I love and care about and I've loved people that I've argued with too much recently.  One thing I realize is that there are times when saying too much is a problem, but more often than not, I feel like it's when we don't say enough to one another that the problems grow.

I'm speaking intentionally in vague generalities... as it's been a day for that.  I process by talking or writing (or more accurately, in this age holding conversations in writing).  In the "good old days" I'd have died of confusion and impatience waiting for the post office.  Today... I have an entire network of "perspectives" at my fingertips (literally) when I need to process something.

Ever used Twitter or Facebook?  You need an answer to a question?  Ask on Twitter or set your status on Facebook... usually within minutes you'll have several possible answers and if you're lucky, maybe even a conversation between several people discussing the pros and cons of each possibility.

For deeper, more meaningful conversations, blogs with comments and/or emails suffice.  I think about something (like the nature of conversation in the modern age), pontificate about it for a while on my blog, and then just wait for someone out in cyberspace to read it, ponder it themselves, and then comment or email me with something related (or opposing) to ponder.

My latest issue of Relevant Magazine came in the mail today.  I was flipping through it quickly, while awaiting hubby's return from work so we could go out for a much-needed dinner date, and came across an editorial page on the instant gratification of the twitter generation (or whatever the actual terminology used).  It was all about the pride and arrogance associated with assuming the rest of the world cares what you're doing every moment of every day.  And there is a certain truth to that I suppose. 

But if you don't care what I think, why are you still reading this?  No one is forcing you to.

And I said as much to a friend today in conversation.  She was worried that I put too much of my heart on my sleeve in this blog.  Maybe she's right.  Maybe I do.  But how anyone chooses to read this blog is their business.  I write because it's who I am.  It's what I need to do.  It's how I process things around me: by positing my opinion and waiting for others out there to express their agreements, objections, and overall perspectives.  

Because that's what I'm after: your unique perspective to sort through along with mine and my experiences.  It's how I make sure that I remember the world is bigger than just me and my minuscule viewpoint.  Because when I share with you and you share with me your thoughts, feelings, observations, and experiences, we grow closer.

And while there is something to be said for flesh and blood interaction, the truth of the matter is that I feel no less close to those of you with whom I carry on deep and meaningful conversations via the wires on a regular basis than I do with people that I interact with in person (sometimes on a fairly superficial level).

And that is what true communication is about.

Writer's Block

Words well up inside
With no outlet they hide
Tired of fighting

Reduced to mere babble
Strangers unravel
With nothing inviting

So I try to unload
With poetry and prose
Hoping for enlightening

Where is my muse
Lost and abused
Poetic passion frightening


Earth Quakes

   takes tremors
   quakes quiet
   shakes shadows 
   breaks buildings
   makes madness

Roads rumble
Ground grumbles
Foundations fumble
Trust tumbles
Confidence crumbles
Souls stumble

   she slumbers
   silently slipping
   stars surrounding
   serenity silencing

the bumbling waking Earth


Back In The Atmosphere

Sometimes I forget that I have the most wonderful husband in the world.  

Seriously.  I forget.  

He's sweet and he's wonderful and he loves me no matter what I do or where I go or how often I forget that he's there.  And sometimes I get all caught up in myself and my needs and forget that he's just as much a part of "us" as I am.  

And I take him for granted.

And sometimes it takes nothing more than a simple reminder from him.  I get caught up in my "need for romance and magic" that I forget how magical the undying love of devotion and commitment can be.

How much magic is there in the fact that my husband's grace and forgiveness never seem to run out?  How much romance is there in the fact that, much like the Great Romancer of my soul, even when I forget him or take him for granted, he still needs me and loves me ... perhaps even more so than he loved me the day before? 

Even when I run and hide, he chases after me and pulls me back to him.  And even when I don't know what I want or need, he gives me the time and space to figure it out, trusting that in the end I'll realize he was standing there the whole time, just waiting for me to realize it was him all along.

So now, I'm "back in the atmosphere" and being reminded of all this, hoping that next time I feel the need to "space out" on him, I'll take a look at this, and "land" a little sooner.


Who Am I?

I'm endlessly fascinated by personality tests.  Call it a burning desire to figure out the how and why of who I am and what I do.  It's a struggle to understand, not only myself, but those around me.  I detest labels, because they tend to be superficial and not really get into the heart of who a person really is, but I do find that analysis of oneself (and those with whom one associates regularly) is not a bad thing. 

Personality tests are useful as springboards for understanding.  They should NEVER be used to pigeon-hole someone into being or acting any particular way.  The results of said tests are never the answers to who we are, but rather the introduction of further questions and avenues for self-discovery and growth.  And personality tests can help us to better understand why we respond to things and react to people the way we do.  If used correctly, they can be a means of developing greater understanding between people as we are capable of noting the similarities and differences between us and acting in grace accordingly.

One of the tests that is most familiar to the world is the Meyers-Briggs.  I've taken this several different times in my life and I call myself an XNFX.  The X means I fluctuate between the two sides of the spectrum in those categories, based on situation.  I have discovered that I'm very solidly in the NF category however, which means that I tend to be an emotionally driven person (which is in direct contrast to my highly logical husband).  The older I get the more I swing toward the Introvert side of the scale as well as the Perceiving side of the scale, but again, those are purely situational.

My favorite test is the Enneagram.  I actually took a full-day seminar on this at our church.  This is an intriguing test full of complexity.  If you do a full test (not the one linked here, but through an actual class), you learn about not only your main personality type, but also your wing (which is the type on either side of you that is higher and colors your main personality), but also the types that you may gravitate toward in times of either stress or peace.  There are healthy and unhealthy versions of each type of personality.  

And it's tough to boil down all the philosophy into a "simple" explanation.  However, the idea is that God is the perfection of all 9 personality types and (s)he has placed in all of us the capacity to exhibit all 9 types as well.  As we strive to grow and change in our lives, we are working toward a healthy balance in our personalities.  Of course, we're all human and therefore imperfect, so we tend toward one type more than others.

So here's the part that is even more fascinating to me.  When hubby and I were engaged, we took the tests the first time (simplified versions as part of our pre-marital counseling).  He came out a solid 9 and I came out a solid 1.  For years, we joked that I'm the manipulator and he's the doormat and we like it that way.  We took said seminar about 5-6 years ago and came out roughly the same.  Although, my 4 was only a few points behind my 1 (and not to get into all the theory and stuff, but 4 is where a 1 will go in times of stress apparently).

Now, here we are in 2008.  In the past couple weeks, I've taken the test twice... Both times I came out solidly 4.  In fact the first time I took it (online this time around), my 1 was non-existent.  It's like my creative and artsy side decided to put the smack-down on the perfectionist side of me, sending my sad little 1 limping and bruised to hide in a corner somewhere.

Now, what does that tell me?  I don't know.  Am I really changing?  I mean, people do change over time, but in reality, one's main personality type (as I understand it) shouldn't change -- not THAT much.  Did I do the test wrong?  The first two times?  The last two times?  Did I allow situations and circumstance to color my responses?

Or... am I really two people warring inside?  The inner poet and the inner perfectionist.  I think this is me.  I'm constantly struggling to balance the two.  I don't know how I fit into Enneagram theory anymore (surprise, surprise as none of these tests are ever simple... particularly for me).  I'm a 1 sometimes and a 4 sometimes, and maybe I'm about THIS close to having a multiple personality disorder?

Or maybe it just means I'll spend the rest of my life trying to figure me out, and frankly, that's okay with me.  Keeps life interesting.


Melancholic Mistletoe Musings

So, today began the official "Christmas Get Together Marathon" for us.  

Today was spent with our kids, my parents, and my BFF and her hubby & daughter at our house.  It was a nice laid back sort of day with lots of food and random geekiness (playing with new computer gadgets & software, Little Man's new WiiMusic game, and a round of "Lord of the Rings" game that hubby got several years ago for Christmas and rarely gets to play).

Tomorrow is the gathering of my husband's family.  We go to his parents' place and enjoy more merriment and tons of food (despite the fact that the ice storm earlier this week prevented my m-i-l from making her pre-holiday grocery run).  One of my brother-in-laws will be there ("Uncle Matt!"), hubby's uncle and aunt, his grandmothers and of course his parents.  I suspect a phone call will be made to my sister-in-law in Texas who will be celebrating with her new hubby and the other brother-in-law.  The three of them decided not to make the trip up this year.  So, it'll be like something is missing, but we'll have a good time regardless.

The next day, we get together with my brother & sister-in-law and my parents.  We're not doing our usual fondue dinner this year, but Dad's making crab cakes and I'm sure there will be the usual round of board games after dinner.

The following week will be filled with small gatherings of close friends, some of whom we see only at Christmas and on rare unexpected visits.  

And this continues through to the huge family gathering of my mom's extended family on New Year's Day.

I guess I'm having a hard time getting into the "Christmas vibe" this year.  I mean, I'm enjoying time with people that I love, don't get me wrong... but there just seems to be a lack of the "magic" that I used to feel around the holidays when I was a kid.  I'm trying hard to make sure my kids still get to experience it, but I have to wonder if I am succeeding in creating that for them.

Frankly, this year has been rough for me.  There have been a lot of tears in our house (especially lately), and those tears are definitely dampening the holiday spirit around here.  Today was a good start for us in enjoying family time together, but I know my fuse is still short, and grouchy kids (from the crazy holiday schedules and strange eating habits) aren't really helping me much.  

I'm hoping that in the next few days we can regain some of that "joy" and with that, perhaps a little Christmas magic.  I'm trying to see Christmas through the eyes of my five-year-old, but even he's feeling a bit "glazed over" with his usual winter-long respiratory ailments that make him feel miserable.

So... No matter what holiday you celebrate, this is for everyone I love (including myself), a reminder of the true magic of Christmas...

Christmas Wishes

Silence at night
   and Peace on earth 
Joy to the world 
   from Love incarnate

The warmth of True Communion
   sweetened with Forgiveness
Amazing Grace unmeasured
   a little holiday Magic

I Guess I Still Believe...

So... I found a fun little quiz (thanks to my beautiful cousin), that I wanted to take to test whether I should call myself "Christian." Apparently so... maybe I should retake the quiz?

My Results:

1. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (100%)
2. Baha'i Faith (89%)
3. Liberal Quakers (85%)
4. Unitarian Universalism (78%)
5. Orthodox Quaker (75%)
6. Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons) (74%)
7. Mainline to Conservative Christian/Protestant (70%)
8. Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (66%)
9. Jehovah's Witness (66%)
10. Neo-Pagan (61%)
11. Mahayana Buddhism (61%)
12. New Age (58%)
13. Sikhism (58%)
14. Seventh Day Adventist (57%)
15. Theravada Buddhism (52%)
16. Hinduism (51%)
17. Reform Judaism (49%)
18. Eastern Orthodox (48%)
19. Roman Catholic (48%)
20. New Thought (46%)
21. Orthodox Judaism (45%)
22. Jainism (41%)
23. Taoism (41%)
24. Secular Humanism (39%)
25. Islam (35%)
26. Scientology (32%)
27. Nontheist (19%)


I'll Pass On The Ear, Thanks

Today I sit here on my own... staring into the shattered reflections from a broken soul.  Life is hard.  We screw up... pretty much everything.  I look around me at relationships that seem so far gone that it's only by God's grace that the disasters aren't immensely worse than they are.

We struggle in this life.  And those of us in touch with our inner demons of artistic and creative torment (otherwise commonly referred to as "depressed" ironically) -- we struggle more.  We have to live the pain to know what passion is.  And we apparently feel the need to drag those we love through it with us.

So however many years ago it was on this day, another incredibly depressed artistic man named Van Gogh, a broken man, gave a piece of himself (literally his ear) to a woman he "loved".  I'm sure his intentions were good.  I'm thinking if someone offered me a bloody and disconnected body part, I'd be a tad grossed out, regardless of their intentions.

And yet, don't we do that to each other all the time?  All of us are broken or hurt in one way or another.  And all we can hope for in this life is the connection with another...  and we seek to offer our broken and mangled pieces of ourselves to one another.  And sometimes it works, and souls mingle... but only temporarily.

Because we're not capable of maintaining such an intimate connection with another on our own.  We need the help of someone higher than we are.  The only one who can truly understand our broken souls, can heal our broken souls, and can allow us to truly connect with anyone... is God.  (S)He longs to hold us close, to kiss away the pain, to show us true and unbroken love.

My personal resolution for the coming year (to borrow a concept) is to learn to feel and truly understand this true love, and to in turn share it with the world around me, in a pure and unblemished soul connection.  In the meantime, however, I'm asking for outside help in this area, because I know it's gonna take me time to get there, and I know I cannot get there alone.

And there is never shame in asking for help...  the only shame I find in love is within my own misguided intentions.


   (for friends who are hurting)

My hope is, soon, I'll see you smile
and know that you're okay
But until then I'll walk a mile
to be out of the way.

What needs to be for you and me
is nothing for a while
So now I go, hoping to show
you'll make it through this trial

There's someone there who needs you now
and craves the where and how.
There's letting go that falls short of
the snow of endless love.



Communication... I'm pondering this today.  It seems like no matter how far we come as humans, we keep falling into the same pit, the inability to truly understand one another, the inability to truly communicate.

Thousands of years ago, there were these people and they wanted to touch God.  And so they decided to build a tower to reach heaven.  And as they got into their project, the same thing happened to them that happens with any group of people when they get together... they stopped being able to communicate with one another effectively.  Now, I wasn't there and don't know what happened exactly.  

When they wrote this account up in the bible, someone decided to blame it on God.  Like (s)he was just sitting up in heaven waiting to create all sorts of chaos below (kinda like Puck in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream almost).  Right... Because God has nothing better to do than screw up our plans to understand her/him (and each other for that matter).

So... maybe it was more a matter of people not understanding one another, being too caught up in themselves to really be able to take the time to hear each other.  And so... in their pursuit of a perfect relationship with God, they failed... due to miscommunication.  

And we still have this problem...  We still can't communicate effectively.  We hide ourselves behind little walls of towers... trying to reach perfection in our relationships -- with God -- with each other... and we fail miserably, because we can't communicate.  We try and it's like we speak different languages.

Or maybe that's not how it went.  Like I said, I wasn't there.  And only God knows.  And if (s)he is just sitting up there and laughing... well, I guess we're all just doomed to babble randomly at one another forever...


An Addendum For Dichotomy

Yes, I'm aware that my last two posts seem to be in direct contradiction to one another.  I assure you, they're not.

My life journey consists of finding the Truth, finding who I am, finding who God is, finding the how and why of my existence.

I ascribe to the "elephant theory"of religion and Truth.  Ironically, when I googled this to link it, I realized that it comes from a Hindu poem/fable.  This makes me laugh inside, because many of my readers may find this to be a further contradiction.

I grew up Christian as most of you know.  I don't like to be called a Christian anymore though, because the associations of pain, condescension, and hypocrisy ascribed to this title make me want to run far, far away from anything and everything associated.  I tried to turn my back on all of it at one point near the end of high school and beginning of college (yes, while attending Christian schools in both cases).  I'm jaded... plain and simple.  As far as I'm concerned... the church is more or less... wrong.

HOWEVER, I keep coming back to the teachings of Christ as my primary lifeline and use HIM as my life's role-model.  I still attend (and am involved in serving in) my church, because, I do worship the God of Christianity.  But my God is bigger than that.

I study and listen and process opinions and beliefs from many sources.  I will spend the rest of my life searching for pieces of the elephant around me that will help me to understand this larger view of God.  While this intimidates many people, I find this to be the source of continued joy and wonder for me as I continue to delve deep into my understanding of and relationship with God,  and the world & people (s)he created for me to know and love.

I don't wanna ever end this journey.  Join me?  It's worth it; I promise!



We pour out our cups
  solitary and sterile of sickly sweet grape
We each take our piece
  the body we’ve bought – tiny crackers, unbroken

“Do this in remembrance of me.”

What have we become –
  a communion of cowards?
What’s sacred in this –
  a simple scion’s snack?

“Do this in remembrance of me.”

Remember the wine –
  bittersweet broken bliss
  suffering sanguine sweat
Remember the bread –
  bared, battered, bruised, belittled
  silent solitary submission

The act of exchange –
  My life for your loss
  My loss for your love
  My love for your life

Will I choose for my brother, my sister, my friend –
Will I choose for my traitor, my betrayer, my foe –
  the one-on-one, sacred,
  the bidirectional, literal
    sacramental sacrifice?

If I can’t share the wine of your sorrow
  and the bread of your pain, your passion, your person
Then who am I to bear burden the name of the ONE
  for Whom we do THIS in remembrance?

“Do THIS in remembrance of me.”

Wisdom from Buddha

"Meditate.  Live purely.  Be quiet.  Do your work with mastery.  like the moon, come out from behind the clouds!  Shine."

"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."

"A wise man, recognizing that the world is but an illusion, does not act as if it is real, so he escapes the suffering."

"What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life tomorrow: Our life is the creation of our mind."

"No one saves us but ourselves.  No one can and no one may.  We ourselves must walk the path."

"Peace comes from within.  Do not seek it without."



Dawn has broken the endless dark.
The rain has stopped.
The sun has risen in the great blue sky.
The wind blows strong and cold, but no longer bites.
The crisp air a reminder of new life & love.

Today is a day for splashing in puddles.  

Tonight is a night to DANCE!

(Thank you to my husband and our two very special friends 
who brought me to this place today!
...And thanks to my friends who walked me through the stormy night.)


Rainy Day

My son looks forlornly out the window...  "Will it rain forever?"
"I hope not, Baby.  I truly hope not."

Not my best poetry... 
but it is my soul... 
on a page...

Walking in the Rain

Icy drops

Tiny knives


Only the solitary sound 
   of lonely feet on dripping pavement
And careening cars 

It's too late

Frigid wind
  bites & stings
blowing away pain...

leaving nothing...


Broken Silence

Relationships are beautiful.  Life...  
Broken communication is painful.  Death...

Maintain Radio Silence

Words, words,
   beautiful words.

Probing and praising my soul.

Words, words,
   painful words.

Twisting and turning the knife.

Words, words,
   where are the words?

Bleeding and beating for you.


Pour Me A Glass Of Wine...

I don't like wine.  I don't like champagne.  I'm not a big drinker at all really.  However, today seems like a day to end with a glass of wine.  Unfortunately, I neither have any, nor would I enjoy it if I did.  And still, I want one.

I know that seems odd, 
but it... 

Spilling Wine

Careful protection
Silent objections
The tipping of the glass

The day is hung over
Nowhere any closer
To knowing what to ask

Liquid loss lands
Between our two hands
Wishing this would pass

Between us now is pain
And decade-old stains
And the knowing this might last


Magnificent Magnificat

Today is the second Sunday of Advent.  (And no, it's okay; you didn't miss my blog entry on Sunday one of Advent.  While Hope is important, it wasn't what was speaking to me at the time.)  Today's theme is (drumroll please...) LOVE!  Now, I'm gonna tell you that God must have an incredible sense of humor because here and now, this very weekend, I've been drowning in the cruel beauty of Love and Romance and what happens when we lose them in our relationships.  I've struggled with feelings of inadequacy this week and the feeling of needing someone to tell me that I'm worthy to be chased after if and when I run away.

So I walked into the sanctuary (late from waking up with a head cold) to start rehearsal for our morning worship set, trying to sing around egg sandwiches we had grabbed on the way and cough drops to salvage the little voice I had in those early hours of today.  I spent most of yesterday crying over stupidity that can only be described as "my own damn fault" and was still feeling the after-effects of internal emotional wars being fought.

In the middle of rehearsal my husband (who runs the tech stuff at church and was apparently having issues with new software malfunctioning) and I snapped at each other; he was outwardly more angry than I'd seen him in a long time.  I thought I was going to throw up and had to walk out of rehearsal this morning.

Without getting into more details than necessary, Hubby and I patched things up with a quick chat and I pulled myself together enough to get through the first service worship set.  The day was slowly getting better.  I'd decided that I was going to put my personal issues aside and attempt to love and worship God in the way that only HE is worthy of being loved and worshipped.  And it kinda-sorta-maybe worked.

Then it was time for the message.  Now, as soon as I'm done writing this post, I'll be doing a thorough search of my home to find the hidden camera that our pastor must have planted early this week, because if there isn't one, he must have hacked into my private files on the computer.  This morning's message was written for me.  (Thanks Tony!)  I don't take notes in church usually.  There's no point to it for me as I rarely, if ever go back and look at them.  This morning -- FIVE pages of notes, reactions, thoughts, and dialogue.  FIVE!

Because this message spoke so strongly to me, I want to share some of my journey this morning with you.  I highly recommend that you contact our church office ( and get them to send a copy of the message to you if you weren't there to hear it.  Tony opened with a recorded internal "trialogue" between himself, himself, and... "God" that can only be truly experienced by listening to it.  Tony had me hooked on every word, from the first sentence.

The first thing that grabbed me was the beauty of the greeting to Mary.  "Favored One"... The beauty of the romance...  My heart melts to hear it.  I've heard this story a million times.  I've heard pastors give messages where it's been said that Mary is miraculously "pregnant".  Now I don't know what happened; I wasn't there, but let me tell you this:  I've been romanced by the Holy Spirit and I'm thinking if the Holy Spirit "came upon Mary", well, I think it's nearly blasphemy to cheapen that encounter by making it any less than what I think it was.  

Mary entered willingly into a love affair with the Holy Spirit.  She allowed Him to romance her, to call her by a special name, "Favored One".  The consequences of her actions were such that her life was unequivocally changed.  She gave herself freely and wholly to the work of God.  And since I know first hand (and sorry if this is weird for anyone to read, but why can't we talk about such tender and holy moments with the "Lover of our Souls"?) the blissful beauty of an encounter with the Spirit of God, I'm just saying that I don't think God would treat the mother of His ONLY Son any with any less love, respect, and tenderness than a husband should show his wife, particularly given all that He was asking of her.

And what was He asking of her?  He was making her into the mother of an illegitimate child.  Think about the outrage that we as Christians (sadly) have about teen pregnancy.  Mary, the mother of our Lord and Savior, the beloved chosen ONE of God, was an unwed teen mother.  She left her family, likely as an outcast to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who was also miraculously pregnant.  

When Mary arrived, the CHILD IN ELIZABETH'S WOMB LEAPT WITH JOY at the sound of Mary's voice!  Now, those of you who know what I'm talking about here, imagine the "afterglow" from an encounter with the Holy Spirit... particularly one resulting in the conception of the child of the MOST HIGH GOD!  WOW... This is mind-boggling to me!

I believe that children come from God.  What I mean by that in my ultra-romantic idealism is that I believe that all children live with God before they come to earth.  This is NOT in scripture that I know of, so you don't have to ask me for scriptural basis.  This is my theory and supposition...  I believe that EVERY human being comes into this world having an intimate knowledge of the ONE who created them.  I used to hold my son when he was an infant (and still do this with my baby girl now) and ask him what the face of God looked like.  He used to "tell" me how beautiful it was.  Somehow, as we get older and we grow and learn more about the world around us, we forget that we ever knew our Creator and the Lover of our Souls that intimately.

So... back to Mary...  She sang a song.  "The Magnificat" as it's known through history.  Like Mary's story, I've heard it a million times, but never, never, have her words hit me in the way they did today.  Because today, Mary's song could have been my song.  See Mary felt UNWORTHY of being chased and sought after.  She was nothing more than an average teen-aged girl.  The God of the universe SOUGHT HER OUT... and found her.  He put into her (literally) a purpose so high and so holy, that although it would potentially destroy every ounce of human dignity and respect that Mary had, she gave herself willingly to that plan.  And God chose her to be blessed for eternity.  WOW!

Not only that... but Mary looks through her own pain and passion, her own issues... to bless the world around her.  God loves to turn the tables around, and his beloved, the mother of his child, the "favored one" is no different.  Though the world around her may reject her, she turns the tables on those who would potentially seek to harm her.  She blesses them all.  She shares the love, the adoration that God has poured out on her with the world around her.  What a beautiful picture of the type of love God expects from his "favored one".  Would that the bride of Christ would follow this example.

Here's the part that spoke to me more than anything else though:  Not only was Mary worthy of being chased and sought after by the God of the universe, but Mary found Him worthy of the chase as well.  Mary found her child to be worthy of the chase, because He was more than just her son.  He was also her Lord and Savior, her Messiah.  And Christ turned that around as well, and declared each and every one of us WORTHY OF THE CHASE AS WELL!  God loved the world enough, and Mary loved her God and her Lover enough, to believe that this plan -- that would cause Mary such profound pain & personal passion -- would be enough to romance the entire world.

There is so much more that I was given in this morning's encounter with God, but I can't begin to get it all into one post (which is already far longer than it should be; perhaps there will be more coming throughout the week as I continue in this journey of pain and passion to feel worthy of the chase).  But I want to tell you all without a single doubt in my mind: My God, the LOVER of my SOUL is worthy of my affections and worthy to have me chase after Him!  

And during our second service worship set this morning, I sang the song of love and adoration like I haven't been truly able for a while.  

I sing for the blessing I've received.  I sing to be redeemed from the pain.  I sing to renew the passion.  And I sing as I gaze in sheer and utter abandon into the eyes of my Lover!  "The gaze of adoration is a gaze that will NOT let you go."


Writing to Remember...

Moment of Mercy

I write to remember;
I falter in forgetting
the delicate strength of you:
To me...

I run to know I'm worthy;
I hide to know you'll see...
I hurt you.

Strength within the sweetness,
Grace within your gaze,
Passion in your promise...
I hurt you.

Things you strain to tell me,
that somehow I don't hear --
Caught up in my selfishness,
and only you know why...

I hurt you.

There's nowhere else that I can go --
Nowhere left to hide --

I lose myself in you.

I see myself inside your eyes
reflecting only love,
Pure and simple
free of guilt
honest confessions

I've offered you my broken soul
in pieces at your feet;
You pull me close to hear your heart
that softly beats for me.

But if -- or when -- I question this,
'cause we both know I will,
Just bring me to this moment
and pull me closer still.


The Nature of Romance

I've been spending a lot of time pondering romance of late.  What makes romance?  Why does it seem the longer a relationship progresses, the more intentional romance has to be to keep it going?

I'm thinking it has to do with the nature of romance and attraction.  We start a relationship by "falling in love" with someone, or at the very least, feeling strongly attracted to them.  Everything is new and fresh... a surprise.  It's all a "first", which is exciting because it's different than what you've known before -- no matter how many first kisses one has, each one is different.  A simple touch can be charged with electric when it's something you haven't felt before.

Then we grow in love and get comfortable with one another.  There aren't as many surprises or as many "firsts".  Romance has to be fostered.  Being surprised can still happen after years together, but you have to look harder at the details around you to notice the wonder and surprise in the small things, the things that get lost amid the chaos of hectic lives: the smell of the soul, the laughter in the eyes, the taste of the lips.

My husband and I have been together 13 years, and I just found out tonight that he thinks one of the most romantic things I do is sit in the kitchen and talk to him when he's cooking or doing dishes or whatever.  I, on the other hand, find it annoying when someone hovers in my way while I'm trying to work.  For me, give me a good tv show and hold me close while we watch it or a walk hand in hand through the snow.  Romance is different for each person, and knowing how to romance the person you love is the first step in keeping the passion alive.

So here's a little poem I wrote to capture a tiny bit of the romance.  

Fall Rain
    for Jeff
   You smell of fall and taste like rain
   the last leaves descend to drown in crystal pools
   the hint of smoked wood dances on damp air
   the ice-cold drops trickle down on me.

   You smell of fall and taste like rain
   the spicy-ginger snaps of icy breeze
   the sweetly-bitter brew of rich coffee
   the old wool sweater pulled tightly 'round me.

   You smell of fall and taste like rain.


NaNoWriMo is ended

Well, November is over.  And I have to say, it was a great month, but I'm not sad to see it go.  

National Novel Writing Month is done, and I have a finished draft of a story (approximately 10,000 words) that will hopefully be expanded to a novel at some point.  I have written about 10,000 words of notes in addition to that draft of stuff related to the novel, between character, plot development and additional pieces that may or may not make it into the final cut.  And I've written about 5-10,000 words in my blog during November.  

While I didn't make it to 50,000, I'm happy with my progress.  I've had the kick in the pants that I needed to write and I've used this time for some much-needed self-evaluation through the process.  I'm not finished; I never will be, but thanks to November, I'm off to a great start.