The Bluffs

Along the river is a road
cut into the ground
And high up on those man-made bluffs
are houses buried behind
the mountain-like timber
oaks and poplar; clouds of bushes hide
the crouching dominions for half the year
and possessed by the joy of privacy
or perhaps a hidden fear
of one of the driversby
catching a glimpse
of their neglected front
the peeling paint or overgrown lawns
these houses stayed veiled
until comes autumn
with then growing winds and faded sun
cause the carefully constructed curtain of foliage to fall
and the bare trees are windows to these homes' bluffs
whose glory or grotesqueness are disguised.

Taking Lives

Why do there always have to be people in our lives who take more than we can give, who need more than they can express, and who drain us of all of our resources? It's not like I have much to give that anyone else would need, but for some reason, it seems like, since about the time I became uncool and unneeded, there have been people like that who jump into my life and take.

Raven used to call me every night and talk for two hours on the phone about the guys she thought she loved, the way she was treated by them, her family, TV shows, and anything else that came to mind. One time she called me and told me she wanted to kill herself, and all I did, as a very unwise eighth grader, was listen to her talk and tell her that I'd pray for her.

Karen was the kind of girl who tricked herself to think she was friends with popular people and would get crushed every time they blew her off or she realized that they didn't like her at all. She'd sit by me in math class and ask for help all the time, and even though I always knew the answers, she scored better than me on all of my math tests. She'd always run to me when her feelings got hurt, but it was kind of hard to be supportive when she blew me off to try and be popular.

Kelli is lonely. She grew up in a family of six kids, but now she lives by herself and works a part-time job. She called me today just to talk. And I wanted to eat my peanut-butter sandwich and finish getting ready for work. I only had an hour at home, and she used up half of it. And she wants to hang out some time.

Then there are the scores of lonely, hurt, popularity-seeking teenagers who walk into my life and beg for attention. And the four-year-olds who can't stop asking for hugs and tapping my shoulder to interrupt my conversations with co-workers. And the fourteen other Kellis, Ravens, and Karents that will at some point be part of my life and want--need attention and care that I just might not be able to give.

But I seem to remember something about His power being made perfect in our weaknesses, and a promise to carry my burdens. Because He cares for me. And I guess, if caring for people reflects Him, I should still do it even when it wears me out and drives me crazy, and even when the people who take can't give back.

The Community

I just got home from church, and I feel really good. It was the first service in quite a while that was exactly what I wanted/needed. First thing that happened was I couldn't find a parking spot. It irritated me, but it made me glad too.
Then I was early (intentionally) so I bought a donut and sat in the gym at a table with this random girl. I didn't know who she was, but we got to talking. She's new to the church, so I sat wtih her at service. IT reminded me of how I like doing that, how my weakness in ability to make conversation is totally compensated for by Daniel, who can talk to any random person for an hour, and how grateful people are that I do it even when I don't have anything to talk about.

Service was awesome. I realized while the choir was singing that one thing I love about my church is that they are able to worship in so many different ways. They aren't stuck to bluehair on the organ, or five-piece band rocking out, or choir, or whatever. They do it differently every week, and every week, I watch people lift their hands and sing and shout and truly worship. It's still pretty reserved, but it's worship. Today was no different, except for the reserved part. They were singing a Brooklyn Tab song that was kind of soulful. First the black lady from the worship team stood at the front of the sanctuary, and before the end of the song, a good third of the people were satnding, swaying and singing. It was good times. By the time the congregation joined for singing, we were all ready to worship. It was just reallyl cool.

The other thing I realized that I like about my church is how grace-oriented, but evangelisticlly minded they are. It's an incredible blend that works so well. Mixed with the overlaying emphasis on servant leadership, they do an awesome job of discipling and equipping people from every place in their Christian walk. I know that sounds vague, but if I went into examples, I would talk forever.

I was getting kind of tired of the sermons and some other things at church, but today reminded me of how beautiful of a place it is. And then the sermon was about teaming up for evangelism, how we are part of the big Church of the world, and we rely on one another and on God to get the work done. He preached over a passage that has forever confused me (Luke 10, which is about the same as Matthew 10), and it started to make a little more sense.

Anyway, I just wanted to share my excitement. I know this was poorly written, but I was too happy to concern myself with that.

Disquieted

Disquieted

There’s a disquieted feeling
when I think about you that night
remember you walking away
uneasy smile and nonchalant goodbye
as if everything was OK
Something inside of you worried,
parts of your life that made you afraid
Things hidden under the eyeliner and set jawpain
bigger than the things we talk about
I wonder if you could tell I saw
or if I pretended too well, played along with your game
while you were crying out and hoping inside
and I was waiting until it was too late.
My mind fills with suggestions
when I think of you that night
remember you walking away
Your relieved expression
like a dog unlocked from its cage.
and me, wishing I could say more or do something to help
becuase I know everything was not OK
and you’re just as disquietedas my spirit was when we met

Confession of my secret love for the blogging community

Is it a guilty pleasure? To be ennamoured with the personal thoughts of people who normally don't have a chance to share their personal thoughts? To want to know what "celebs" think about every day life, love and godliness? To sit for an hour a day and read through the insights, feelings and thoughts they've decided to share with the world(wide web)?

I love blogging. I don't like writing them as much as I like reading them, and my favorite part about blogging is that you can leave comments. It's like an interactive magazine with all of your favorite people! It's wonderful. It makes me so happy.

Yesterday I was thinking about Shaun Groves' blog, and wishing that more of my favorite artists had one. Then I found Chris Rice's! Yay. I suppose it's a small pleasure, and it really doesn't matter to anyone else, but I'm finding a certain element of my personal growth in blogging, the intelligent discussion from the standpoint of respected (and disrespected) people. It's great. Everyone should have one, and everyone should say more than "I ate tacos for supper. Then I got sick. And Joey's going out with Becky and I'm soooo jealous." Or whatever. I guess there's a place for those kinds of entries too, but, like conversations, they really don't take you very far.

Tedious Living

Last night I was driving to work and I realized that writing is my primary method of handling stress. I started writing again this week, so it got me thinking, wondering if I was actually stressed right now, because it often doesn't feel like I am, even though I am. I don't know if that makes sense, but it takes me a while to figure out why I get symptoms of stress. So in that fifteen minute drive, I thought things through. I'm stressed. Not by anything big like job-loss or sickness, but the little things that are supposed to be in place in life, the things that cause a person to be secure, aren't all secure right now.

There are too many things to list, and I won't list, lest you lose interest (tribute to bad poetry).

Like I said, it isn't a lot of stuff that directly affects me. It's stuff like my mom having knee surgery and making me realize that our bodies are tired and weak, and you only get one chance to do it right. And my brother and sister-in-law getting accepted to be missionaries in Kazakstan and planning to leave within two years. And my husbands grandparents who are experiencing the final phases of their lives on earth. And my best friend probably won't be single forever and have lots of time to invest in friendship with me. And other inconsistancies that shake my sense of security.

I don't feel hopeless or lost. I guess I just feel kind of... tired. There's always good that can spring out of bad, and even if there isn't, there's hope and belief in the goodness of God to carry and sustain. But times like this make life feel tedious. And that's when I wonder what I'm doing wrong.