Don't get me wrong, I have always loved what has taken place in summer-camp, no school, travel, sleep, berries, fresh tomatoes, lightened hair, freckles on faces, endless nights, etc. But this summer is teaching me to love the season as a whole.
I have been living in Boring, OR for a few months now, but I feel I am finally coming alive here. The clear, sunny days followed by sleepy rainy days followed by cold windy days is probably my favorite weather. Guess what? That is summer here. The mornings are so cold and the evenings tepid. There is enough gloominess that the buoyancy of the afternoon heat doesn't get a gal down.
Today, while tackling a patch of overgrown brush (with hand tools) in the June heat, I felt a rich thankfulness rise up in me. I can only describe the feeling as a smooth surety.
The past year has held a lot of unanswered questions for me. After graduating, I moved three times before traveling across the country. I had three different jobs. I got engaged, endured more long distance, said my goodbyes, moved to Oregon, watched my most loved person/fiance´of all time grieve loss, answered two calls having to do with said person in a car accident, spent my birthday on an uncomfortable faux leather chair in the trauma ward, commuted so long to go to a job that was draining (at best), and all the while, my prayers began and ended in questions. I finally quit my job without knowing what was next the beginning of this past month. Fortunately, I was hired as a nanny/farmhand for a small family in a neighboring town the day after my last day.
The question "what do I want to be doing right now?" was answered.
The farm is small, but the large property is wildly overgrown with beautiful, pesky green things. The girls I usually watch have been at camp this week, so I have been slowly helping tasks get crossed off the list. I have used my hands to nurture life, hack down weeds, enjoy farm fresh veggies for lunch, harvested wild herbs to (hopefully) make my own medicine, and gotten more sunburnt than I remember getting in the last five years. After my work was done for the day, I stood barefoot in the terrace garden. Earth was all around me and I felt capable, loved, and fulfilled. I am re-learning who I am and who I want to be. To be honest, I am thrilled at what is being revealed.
All my questions may not be answered, but the Lord is so good. He blesses richly and His coming is as sure as the dawn. What more do I need than this and Oregon sunshine?
lost in an uncharted sea.
Showing posts with label journal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journal. Show all posts
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Sunday, November 25, 2012
forty eight/journal entry
i literally have never been so content as i am today.
and yet, i am absolutely yearning to go home. i want people i love all around me.
the people that i have felt infinite with.
i always feel so young and awkward and out of place. i’m waiting for the day when i wake up and i’m like “oh hey i belong.”
ha.
school gets so hilarious to me sometimes. a bunch of people reading books and hanging out and partying and doing what they love until they grow to hate it. how does that even work out?
i need to remember to be all here. i mean like, wherever i am, to be fully focused on that. too often, my mind wanders to the future, past, an alternate present...anything else except what i’m doing now.
it’s like selective attention deficit disorder or something.
Friday, November 2, 2012
journal entry/sometimes
October 30th
sometimes I feel so alive I could be dead.
sometimes I feel so alive I could be dead.
like some how the blood coursing through me is actually only saltwater and I’m actually some weirdly shaped wave that’s just waiting to crash and wash over some dirty spot on the sidewalk at school.
sometimes I feel so alone that I’m claustrophobic.
sometimes I feel so alone that I’m claustrophobic.
like the air around me is actually full of tons of people waiting until to hurt me or to be hurt because that’s all humans can honestly do to eachother.
sometimes I feel so young that I grow old.
like somehow I am burdened and aged by the fact I know and have lived so much less than I want.
sometimes I feel so cold that I’m burning.
sometimes I feel so cold that I’m burning.
like the rain is actually little bits of fire spreading on my skin and setting flame to the old body, just leaving the new, tender skin of my real self.
sometimes sometimes sometimes.
more like all the time.
sometimes sometimes sometimes.
more like all the time.
all the time I feel dead, claustrophobic, old, and burning.
like somehow I’m going to be fine because I’m just as much of a mess as everyone I know.
that’s all.
the end.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
forty one/journal entry
october 5th.
i cried.
prayed.
cried more.
it’s going to be alright.
this is just too hard.
that’s all.
the end.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
thirty nine/journal entry
september 16th 2012
sometimes I get overwhelmed with words. they begin to suffocate me with their possibilities and their variety and their potency. I want to express my thoughts and heart-whispers, but the words confuse me. so then I take pictures.
sometimes I get overwhelmed with words. they begin to suffocate me with their possibilities and their variety and their potency. I want to express my thoughts and heart-whispers, but the words confuse me. so then I take pictures.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
thirty four
august 17 2012
you probably
don't think like me
and if you do and if you do,
that's a misfortune.
because if
you do think like me,
every time you put
meandyoutogether
you over-analyze and pull u s a p a r t until we end in
doom
and
despair.
if you think like me,
every time a little ant of a thought of us that's ideal and happy occurs,
your mind squishes it with it's
great big rational thumb.
and moves on.
I think too much.
that's why I'm always
sad.
that's why I'll always be
lonely.
I've thought enough about my own heart's condition to know that
there is a
wound in my heart
that cannot and
will not be healed.
until I die.
"but you're a happy person" you say.
well I'm happy because that makes you happy and I want to make everyone happy because we're all going to die in the end anyway.
"but you believe in something beyond this life" you say.
I do. I do.
50% of the time
I am
believing and rejoicing.
the other 50%
I wonder
"what's the point"
and
"if I died, would anyone care?"
and
"why don't I just die now?"
and that leads to a spiral
down
down
down.
darkeranddarker.
into a
deep pit
of self-mind-mutilation that only someone whose mind is built like mine could know.
a mind that thinks
ceaselessyabouteverything.
a mind that knows
that the
one thing
its heart wants
can never be
seen
felt
kissed
on this great big earth.
so all this to say
Iloveyou
but I
don't expect
satisfaction
fromyou.
it's true.
*the style is shamelessly based on the style of e.e. cummings, who is my favorite*
you probably
don't think like me
and if you do and if you do,
that's a misfortune.
because if
you do think like me,
every time you put
meandyoutogether
you over-analyze and pull u s a p a r t until we end in
doom
and
despair.
if you think like me,
every time a little ant of a thought of us that's ideal and happy occurs,
your mind squishes it with it's
great big rational thumb.
and moves on.
I think too much.
that's why I'm always
sad.
that's why I'll always be
lonely.
I've thought enough about my own heart's condition to know that
there is a
wound in my heart
that cannot and
will not be healed.
until I die.
"but you're a happy person" you say.
well I'm happy because that makes you happy and I want to make everyone happy because we're all going to die in the end anyway.
"but you believe in something beyond this life" you say.
I do. I do.
50% of the time
I am
believing and rejoicing.
the other 50%
I wonder
"what's the point"
and
"if I died, would anyone care?"
and
"why don't I just die now?"
and that leads to a spiral
down
down
down.
darkeranddarker.
into a
deep pit
of self-mind-mutilation that only someone whose mind is built like mine could know.
a mind that thinks
ceaselessyabouteverything.
a mind that knows
that the
one thing
its heart wants
can never be
seen
felt
kissed
on this great big earth.
so all this to say
Iloveyou
but I
don't expect
satisfaction
fromyou.
it's true.
*the style is shamelessly based on the style of e.e. cummings, who is my favorite*
Monday, August 27, 2012
thirty two/thirty three
thirty two/journal entry from the beach with Jen
(July 30th, 2012)
...God promises "peace like a river" in the end [of Isaiah]. I could not help but think of the coursing waters of the Tennessee River. It is so powerful and beautiful. It's life-giving and it never stops. It cradles those that are upon it and it snuggles with Chattanooga. God's going to give us peace like that.
hallelujah.
thirty three
(this is a snippet of a larger idea that will be expounded upon someday)
an expiring flashbulb in the skies
the bright street lamps and my blinking eyes
the asphalt shifting below a thousand tires
and the smoke rising from the forest fires
this drought of my heart now plaintively crying for rain
expected satisfaction when the thunder came
your arms held me close, but no showers did pour
instead my heart was left as parched as before
(July 30th, 2012)
...God promises "peace like a river" in the end [of Isaiah]. I could not help but think of the coursing waters of the Tennessee River. It is so powerful and beautiful. It's life-giving and it never stops. It cradles those that are upon it and it snuggles with Chattanooga. God's going to give us peace like that.
hallelujah.
thirty three
(this is a snippet of a larger idea that will be expounded upon someday)
an expiring flashbulb in the skies
the bright street lamps and my blinking eyes
the asphalt shifting below a thousand tires
and the smoke rising from the forest fires
this drought of my heart now plaintively crying for rain
expected satisfaction when the thunder came
your arms held me close, but no showers did pour
instead my heart was left as parched as before
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
thirty one/reasons
so here's the deal, I didn't write a thirty one.
rats.
I had a spotless record until the week after I got home from camp.
It makes sense to me though. The summer was so hard and long and draining. When I got home, I just wanted to detox by unpacking and doing laundry and laying in my driveway in the sun at noon and hiking with Joe and getting coffee by myself.
Things like that helped me process everything.
So I guess I'm okay with not having an official "thirty one".
This summer, Bethany, Jamie, and I were going separate ways. We wanted to do something that would tie us together. So we were supposed to ask ourselves, weekly, why we believed in God. The reasons, as expected, varied from week to week.
Here's a list of reasons why I believe in God:
-the childlike faith of the Haitian people
-I see His wisdom in my campers
-God is our Father and He is good, He is good, He is good
-He swallowed up death forever
-He can use any fumbled, sleepy words I say for His purposes
-He works through the broken hearted
-If you ask, you will receive because He remains faithful to you
-The incredibly powerful ocean and incredibly powerful forgiveness
Why do you believe in God?
rats.
I had a spotless record until the week after I got home from camp.
It makes sense to me though. The summer was so hard and long and draining. When I got home, I just wanted to detox by unpacking and doing laundry and laying in my driveway in the sun at noon and hiking with Joe and getting coffee by myself.
Things like that helped me process everything.
So I guess I'm okay with not having an official "thirty one".
This summer, Bethany, Jamie, and I were going separate ways. We wanted to do something that would tie us together. So we were supposed to ask ourselves, weekly, why we believed in God. The reasons, as expected, varied from week to week.
Here's a list of reasons why I believe in God:
-the childlike faith of the Haitian people
-I see His wisdom in my campers
-God is our Father and He is good, He is good, He is good
-He swallowed up death forever
-He can use any fumbled, sleepy words I say for His purposes
-He works through the broken hearted
-If you ask, you will receive because He remains faithful to you
-The incredibly powerful ocean and incredibly powerful forgiveness
Why do you believe in God?
Sunday, August 19, 2012
twenty nine/ thirty
journal entries from cedar lake camp
twenty nine
(July 10th 2012)
...the crickets fill the quiet night with a plaintive song. the hushed voices of children harmonize with the night music. camp is so perfect most of the time, but especially nights like this:
-nights that are cool because of the rain that fell during the day.
-nights full of the sound of Chad strumming and singing beautiful little songs written from a young heart.
-nights where the words "I'll miss you" keep running through my head.
...
-nights when the sandaled feet of my kindred companions are resting on the wooden porch.
-nights when the rocking chairs are empty.
-nights when the birds are hushed.
-nights when the stars are tucked in a blanket of clouds.
perfection seems to sprout out of these moments. reminding the young to have hope, that life can always be beautiful, and that they are wildly loved by an untamed God.
yes.
thirty
(June 12th 2012)
in Isaiah 53, it talks about how Christ was afflicted like us.
(June 15th 2012)
how He carried our afflictions and burdens and sorrows. if I believe that, then it makes me wonder if Christ ever suffered from [the consequences of] misplacing His affections. If He ever loved someone He could not ever tell He loved. If His heart ever wanted and longed for a person who could never be His.
yikes. that's so far-fetched.
but it makes you wonder.
...
Is. 53:3-7
vs. 4 "Surely He has borne our grief and carried our sorrow..."
twenty nine
(July 10th 2012)
...the crickets fill the quiet night with a plaintive song. the hushed voices of children harmonize with the night music. camp is so perfect most of the time, but especially nights like this:
-nights that are cool because of the rain that fell during the day.
-nights full of the sound of Chad strumming and singing beautiful little songs written from a young heart.
-nights where the words "I'll miss you" keep running through my head.
...
-nights when the sandaled feet of my kindred companions are resting on the wooden porch.
-nights when the rocking chairs are empty.
-nights when the birds are hushed.
-nights when the stars are tucked in a blanket of clouds.
perfection seems to sprout out of these moments. reminding the young to have hope, that life can always be beautiful, and that they are wildly loved by an untamed God.
yes.
thirty
(June 12th 2012)
in Isaiah 53, it talks about how Christ was afflicted like us.
(June 15th 2012)
how He carried our afflictions and burdens and sorrows. if I believe that, then it makes me wonder if Christ ever suffered from [the consequences of] misplacing His affections. If He ever loved someone He could not ever tell He loved. If His heart ever wanted and longed for a person who could never be His.
yikes. that's so far-fetched.
but it makes you wonder.
...
Is. 53:3-7
vs. 4 "Surely He has borne our grief and carried our sorrow..."
Thursday, August 16, 2012
twenty six/twenty seven/twenty eight
(from my journals at cedar lake camp)
twenty six
June 20th 2012
Noodles the Terrifying Panda (he is real)
-He doesn't like it if you bathe in "gel-low" chocolate pudding from Canada
-He loves Tapioca
-He is neutral on vanilla
-He was created in the twilight zone of the Atlantic Ocean
-He attached Guy in 1884
-He attacked Chad in 1966 (sucked out his bones)
-He is a nomad
-He likes fat Americans
-He doesn't sleep
-He's immortal
-He has 5 hearts and 3 brains (he's very cunning)
-A wooden stake tipped in "gel-low" Canadian chocolate pudding through the heart will kill him!
twenty seven
June25th 2012
camp sunsets are gorgeous
the silver sliver of a moon is hanging in the baby blue sky. lace like clouds surround it
dust and ants are covering the land beneath me
it seems to be wailing, crying out for rain
my feet stomp the ground in rhythm, my heart beats fast
the trees around me shake their leaves, my voice raises-imploring the sky to loose her tears and water the earth
the dust cakes my feet, my hands
by the time the golden light streaks crimson in the evening, I am exhausted from my dance
"red sky and night, sailor's delight" sounds over and over in my mind.
but me and my friends are not sailors.
-I love it when the pink light of the sleepy sun leaks through the wise old trees at camp. the cool breeze blowing. Daniel's voice speaking truth about my Savior-God. the campfire crackling. kids falling asleep and whispering.gold sparks against the blue of the pool. the smell of dirt and sweat and camp being blown in the breeze.
...yes.
twenty eight
Canoe Camp 2012 (MK, Jen, and Julie helped with this one)
day one:
As the sun rose over the plateau, we set off on our journey. Like a ghost in the night we were whisked away that early morning to the water's edge. We could say "we were gone with the wind." After losing our way, we answered the call of Taylor's Ford. Backs bent and brows sweating, we loaded our bags and our burdens onto the valiant vessel. The Spirit of Dale Hollow welcomed our canoes as we guided them in.
The bow of our boat cut through the water like a knife through slightly warm butter. Our paddles shattered the serene glassy blue-green surface of Dale Hollow.
The burn in our arms was like a furnace cooking the clay piece of a master potter.
And our hearts beat as one.
twenty six
June 20th 2012
Noodles the Terrifying Panda (he is real)
-He doesn't like it if you bathe in "gel-low" chocolate pudding from Canada
-He loves Tapioca
-He is neutral on vanilla
-He was created in the twilight zone of the Atlantic Ocean
-He attached Guy in 1884
-He attacked Chad in 1966 (sucked out his bones)
-He is a nomad
-He likes fat Americans
-He doesn't sleep
-He's immortal
-He has 5 hearts and 3 brains (he's very cunning)
-A wooden stake tipped in "gel-low" Canadian chocolate pudding through the heart will kill him!
twenty seven
June25th 2012
camp sunsets are gorgeous
the silver sliver of a moon is hanging in the baby blue sky. lace like clouds surround it
dust and ants are covering the land beneath me
it seems to be wailing, crying out for rain
my feet stomp the ground in rhythm, my heart beats fast
the trees around me shake their leaves, my voice raises-imploring the sky to loose her tears and water the earth
the dust cakes my feet, my hands
by the time the golden light streaks crimson in the evening, I am exhausted from my dance
"red sky and night, sailor's delight" sounds over and over in my mind.
but me and my friends are not sailors.
-I love it when the pink light of the sleepy sun leaks through the wise old trees at camp. the cool breeze blowing. Daniel's voice speaking truth about my Savior-God. the campfire crackling. kids falling asleep and whispering.gold sparks against the blue of the pool. the smell of dirt and sweat and camp being blown in the breeze.
...yes.
twenty eight
Canoe Camp 2012 (MK, Jen, and Julie helped with this one)
day one:
As the sun rose over the plateau, we set off on our journey. Like a ghost in the night we were whisked away that early morning to the water's edge. We could say "we were gone with the wind." After losing our way, we answered the call of Taylor's Ford. Backs bent and brows sweating, we loaded our bags and our burdens onto the valiant vessel. The Spirit of Dale Hollow welcomed our canoes as we guided them in.
The bow of our boat cut through the water like a knife through slightly warm butter. Our paddles shattered the serene glassy blue-green surface of Dale Hollow.
The burn in our arms was like a furnace cooking the clay piece of a master potter.
And our hearts beat as one.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
ayiti mon amour. from Leogone./twenty five
(june ninth 2012)
...the air was polluted by dust and smoke. beautiful dark children with their arms around each other's waists and their flashing smiles. the chaotic city marched and ran and balanced her way around our vehicle. the lightly golden crumbling rocks and grey metal sheets coat the area all around. bursts of vibrant color interrupt the monotonous shades of neutral.
there are currently two precious little girls in our courtyard...they question us with their little dark eyes while never uttering a word. they respond to our love with only their unwavering trust.
(june eleventh 2012)
Henry Nouwen "The Genesee Diary"
pg 1. "...maybe I was slowly becoming a prisoner of people's expectations instead of a man liberated by divine promises. Maybe...it was not at all that clear, but I realized that I would only know by stepping back and allowing the hard questions to touch me even if they hurt." holy crap.
in Momance, I was physically exhausted and emotionally strained. we walked around the village and prayed for the women in the "houses." we prayed for health, love in abundance and safety. my heart was stirred by the simple genuineness of the people. the beauty of their faces and the touch of their bodies moved me. when we returned to where they were working, I couldn't comprehend the emotions and thoughts that were pounding in my head and my heart. I cried because the people are strong in the face of adversity. I cried because of the beauty of the people in the midst of disaster. I cried because of the joy of the people in the midst of extreme darkness.
I'm still drained and emotionally damaged. it's okay, though. I will be renewed.
today has been about settling down. and that's okay.
(june twelfth 2012)
...oh hey, I rode on the back of a motorcycle in Haiti.
yes. it's true.
so exhilarating. the mountains rushing by me and the wind caressing my hair ad the sun beaming down on me. it was literally on of the most exciting things I've ever done.
(june sixteenth 2012)
-tap-tap rides at sunrise
-shooting stars on the roof
-black coffee on an aged stove
-well-water showers
-dust in my lungs
-dark eyes
-broad grins
-peeling laughter
-immense pain
-terrifying amounts of joy
-Kyle and his crazy self
-ta-ta loving on Chris and Lewis
-crumbling walls
-endless mountains
-kisses in abundance
-feeling useless-but knowing you're not
-faces that bear all the traces of suffering and bodies scarred by lost battles against time and sickness and life in general. it seems that Haiti keeps on losing. the people are sick and have no homes. the women are weak and have no hope. the men are lost and have no livelihood. their God is largely unknown in most ways. He is a mystery who takes more than He gives. He is a God that causes the earth to quake and great walls to fall. This God is power. This God is all-knowing. This God is seemingly nothing like my God. My God that blesses me with rainy days and hands to hold and sweet words.
This God is Love.
This small favor-granting God is a pure-bred American delusion. He's there when I want Him, but stays in His box when I need Him no more. this is not the God of the Haitian people. the God of these strong, beautiful people supplies them with Joy.
gives them Hope.
grants them Peace.
Haiti is beating in my heart. the mountains and the water are pulsing through my veins...
-thoughts of goodbye that don't even occur until after the goodbyes.
-prayers. in creole. in anglais.
-Nadine telling for me to wait for her. and me and the tap-tap leaving. me not getting to kiss her sweet face one last time. not getting to see those bows blowing in the wind again. not hearing her say "Em-el-lie" in her little womanly voice. that was so rough!
-this trip has been dreamlike.I want to I'm going to go back to Haiti and really live next time.
...the air was polluted by dust and smoke. beautiful dark children with their arms around each other's waists and their flashing smiles. the chaotic city marched and ran and balanced her way around our vehicle. the lightly golden crumbling rocks and grey metal sheets coat the area all around. bursts of vibrant color interrupt the monotonous shades of neutral.
there are currently two precious little girls in our courtyard...they question us with their little dark eyes while never uttering a word. they respond to our love with only their unwavering trust.
(june eleventh 2012)
Henry Nouwen "The Genesee Diary"
pg 1. "...maybe I was slowly becoming a prisoner of people's expectations instead of a man liberated by divine promises. Maybe...it was not at all that clear, but I realized that I would only know by stepping back and allowing the hard questions to touch me even if they hurt." holy crap.
in Momance, I was physically exhausted and emotionally strained. we walked around the village and prayed for the women in the "houses." we prayed for health, love in abundance and safety. my heart was stirred by the simple genuineness of the people. the beauty of their faces and the touch of their bodies moved me. when we returned to where they were working, I couldn't comprehend the emotions and thoughts that were pounding in my head and my heart. I cried because the people are strong in the face of adversity. I cried because of the beauty of the people in the midst of disaster. I cried because of the joy of the people in the midst of extreme darkness.
I'm still drained and emotionally damaged. it's okay, though. I will be renewed.
today has been about settling down. and that's okay.
(june twelfth 2012)
...oh hey, I rode on the back of a motorcycle in Haiti.
yes. it's true.
so exhilarating. the mountains rushing by me and the wind caressing my hair ad the sun beaming down on me. it was literally on of the most exciting things I've ever done.
(june sixteenth 2012)
-tap-tap rides at sunrise
-shooting stars on the roof
-black coffee on an aged stove
-well-water showers
-dust in my lungs
-dark eyes
-broad grins
-peeling laughter
-immense pain
-terrifying amounts of joy
-Kyle and his crazy self
-ta-ta loving on Chris and Lewis
-crumbling walls
-endless mountains
-kisses in abundance
-feeling useless-but knowing you're not
-faces that bear all the traces of suffering and bodies scarred by lost battles against time and sickness and life in general. it seems that Haiti keeps on losing. the people are sick and have no homes. the women are weak and have no hope. the men are lost and have no livelihood. their God is largely unknown in most ways. He is a mystery who takes more than He gives. He is a God that causes the earth to quake and great walls to fall. This God is power. This God is all-knowing. This God is seemingly nothing like my God. My God that blesses me with rainy days and hands to hold and sweet words.
This God is Love.
This small favor-granting God is a pure-bred American delusion. He's there when I want Him, but stays in His box when I need Him no more. this is not the God of the Haitian people. the God of these strong, beautiful people supplies them with Joy.
gives them Hope.
grants them Peace.
Haiti is beating in my heart. the mountains and the water are pulsing through my veins...
-thoughts of goodbye that don't even occur until after the goodbyes.
-prayers. in creole. in anglais.
-Nadine telling for me to wait for her. and me and the tap-tap leaving. me not getting to kiss her sweet face one last time. not getting to see those bows blowing in the wind again. not hearing her say "Em-el-lie" in her little womanly voice. that was so rough!
-this trip has been dreamlike.
Monday, March 12, 2012
ten/journal entries
snippets from my journaling from the road trip I took over spring break.
nothing monumental.
just memories.
day one:
we went to work out at walmart and ate fro yo on the quaint streets of old city Franklin. we ignored the monotone voice telling us to "wait" at the light-over and over again and walked whenever we wanted, because afterall, we're liberated.
day two:
today was marvelous, I can't help but forget my chronic melancholy on an adventure such as this. I love these girls, I loved the treehouse (so astounding) I loved getting to see Jacob, I love this mountain, I love the rain (ish), and I love camping. I so enjoy feeling so in tune with the earth. There's nothing like a good, cold, wet night to make you feel like a weathered explorer.
day three:
-Sweet hikers named Trina and Jerry lent us their nifty little can opener. Trina's soft voice was delightfully accented and matched her feather-like eyebrows and red hair.
-We were going to howl at the moon like little lady wolves, but- we cannot see the moon!
such a tragedy!
day four:
"I'm tired out!"-Bethany while standing in a pile of tires. We went to the recycling center as the golden sun sunk below the urban landscape that surrounded us. Shadows danced on the cylinders of waste all covered in bright colors.
day five:
the word mountain is mentioned in the Bible 175 times.
nothing monumental.
just memories.
day one:
we went to work out at walmart and ate fro yo on the quaint streets of old city Franklin. we ignored the monotone voice telling us to "wait" at the light-over and over again and walked whenever we wanted, because afterall, we're liberated.
day two:
today was marvelous, I can't help but forget my chronic melancholy on an adventure such as this. I love these girls, I loved the treehouse (so astounding) I loved getting to see Jacob, I love this mountain, I love the rain (ish), and I love camping. I so enjoy feeling so in tune with the earth. There's nothing like a good, cold, wet night to make you feel like a weathered explorer.
day three:
-Sweet hikers named Trina and Jerry lent us their nifty little can opener. Trina's soft voice was delightfully accented and matched her feather-like eyebrows and red hair.
-We were going to howl at the moon like little lady wolves, but- we cannot see the moon!
such a tragedy!
day four:
"I'm tired out!"-Bethany while standing in a pile of tires. We went to the recycling center as the golden sun sunk below the urban landscape that surrounded us. Shadows danced on the cylinders of waste all covered in bright colors.
day five:
the word mountain is mentioned in the Bible 175 times.
Monday, December 19, 2011
journal entry.
December 14th, 2011
(I wrote this the day before my last final.)
I'm almost done with the worst semester of my life. I say that with complete and utter seriousness. This semester, more than anything, made me face my weakness. I cried more in the last three or so months than I have in the last three years. I've been incredibly lonely...I've given into my own temptations and lust. I've caused myself and my friends to stumble. I've been sad. terribly sad. Amongst all of this, I've been drawn closer to Christ than ever. Because I've been faced with my own neediness. I'm so needy. I need love. I need touch. I need people. I need purpose. I need sleep. I keep saying this about this semester- but God always provides. He has given me sweet times talking on the phone, road tripping, coffee timing, studying, dancing, with friends new and old, when I truly needed it...Taking 19 hours was a crazy thing to do. Beginning the semester thinking I could do it without my friends, family, and a Great God was positively insane. I have not been happy, but I have been reminded -through giggles, dried leaves, and poems-of the unending joy that I have in me and my Jesus. In spite of all dire circumstances.
So that's all...
Life will get better.
"Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows."
pg 42
The Great Divorce
C.S. Lewis
Friday, October 28, 2011
Journal Entry
October 28th
Rain fell from the sky today and my thoughts were thoughts of you,
Atop your mountain, my dear, so young and strong and free.
I could see your face tilted towards the grey sky.
So, so alone.
With every drip and every drop I heard you scream,
“The Wild is my home.”
The cold wind touched my face today and I swear I felt your hand,
Playing with my hair, just like you used to do.
Are you now sailing on an untamed sea, my dear?
So, so alone.
With every gust I hear you shout,
“The Wild is my home.”
I walked through the woods today, trying to see them like you would,
You used to speak of the woods with love saying they are fresh and pure, and true.
I can see you, my dear, in the ancient pines, fiery maples, and sapling cedars,
So, so alone.
With every crimson leaf that falls I hear you say,
“The Wild is my home.”
I gathered around a fire tonight with friends we both knew,
The dying embers remind me of your eyes, so sad and wise and wild.
I wished in my heart, my dear, that you were safe and warm,
So, so alone.
With every wisp of smoke I hear you softly sing,
“The Wild is my home”
I climbed a hill today, trying to remember every part of you.
I could feel you all around me, my dear, in the sky and clouds and sun.
Oh wild thing, why did you have to leave and be,
So, so alone?
With every sunbeam I can barely hear you whisper,
“The Wild is my home.”
Sunday, October 2, 2011
journal entry
I am a untamed thing tearing through the wilderness. I stumble through the uncharted territory with a zeal characteristic of my age. I want what I should not want. I lust for things I do not need. I know it, he, she, or they will harm me, but I am still chasing. Leaves crackle behind me, in front of me, to my left and to my right.
You are here.
You are hunting me. You are calling me.
You find me in a pit, covered in dirt. The stench of death is on me.
I am filthy and I love it. I fight Your pull. I bite Your hand and strike Your face.
You continue to pull me up from the mire.
You stroke my face as I fight your grasp and whisper "you're beautiful."
My struggling begins to cease as You hold me closer. I begin to object, but You stop me saying "I want you."
I begin to weep saying "but I am smashed to pieces. a useless vessel full of holes. I am only broken parts of what I should be"
You wrap me in peace "I want every broken part. I want to make you new."
Monday, August 29, 2011
journal entry.
August 28th 2011...God didn't create us to wait for things to get better. no.
we don't wait. we just live.
we kick up the dirt on the path and we dance in it.
we run until we tumble to the ground.
we close our eyes when the wind blows to truly feel its touch.
we sing to the tune of the rustling grass.
we sing to the tune of the rustling grass.
and we breath in rhythm with the leaves crunching beneath our feet.
no, no. we don't wait for life to happen.
we just go. we just do.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
journal entry.
August 22nd 2011.
I feel like my life is awful right now. even though I know it isn't. A flood of complaints continues to pour out my mouth while discontented thoughts collect like dust in my mind. I am lonely, jealous, and a bit heart-broken. Why? because.
I am wrong in the way I feel, but it seems like there's no turning back. the door of summer, oh glorious summer, is being slammed and locked behind me. What window is opening? is it a simple white-shuttered window opening to simple happiness? is it a lofty bay window opening to great ambitions? No. for now, all I see is the door of a damp crawl-space creaking open...and I know all I'll find inside is dark, filthy discontent.
How can I make the sweet smells of the past waft into the dingy present? How can I make the golden sunshine of summer break through this blackness?
maybe that's it.
maybe I don't need to focus "How can I"...
no. I need to release my white-knuckled grip on what I think is my own. and focus on "Lord You will."
Lord You will. How I wish, hope, pray I can believe it.
Lord You will.
*disclaimer: this is really from my journal, that's why the thoughts seem a bit intimate. but, I want to take it as a challenge, artistically and personally, to publish a journal entry every so often. I feel like it's a good thing to be able to accurately express what you're feeling in words. and it's an even better thing to be transparent. *
Mary Emily
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)