bits and pieces

walking up the hill toward perfection

I know we'll never arrive, but

we're adding memories to our collections

we're doing more than, more than survive

the sun doesn't rise

it leaps

the stars don't fall

they dive

let's not just politely nod and live,

Let's Run, Laugh, Thrive

1.3.13

driving through

low clouds

flashes of white

like we're

flying

You

brought the sky

down to me

and made me smile

8.30.13

it's the morning's

golden hour

dew washed windows

sparkling grass

and

shining trees

and I,

I'm sitting here

in the calm beauty

making coffee stains on envelopes

and hugging my knees

wondering

how can life be

so madly

beautiful

when there is

so

much

pain.

9.3.13

reasonable service

I will run the course of Your commandments,
For You shall enlarge my heart.
Psalm 119:32

   During an Olympic "Pressing on" themed week, it's interesting that this verse ended my devotions the first morning of camp. At the time I just caught on to the last phrase and prayed for an open heart, but now it hits me how well the whole verse captures the repetitive thought and feel of that week: Running the course of God's commands. Running the race of faith. A heart that's open to serving others.

I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.
Romans 12:1

   Holy and acceptable to God. Following His commands. That's reasonable. That's not too much to ask.

   I'm pretty much terrible at summarizing events really well with a neat and tidy essay of what I learned, but I would use those two verses as the keys to a lot of my thoughts.

 
   But I think everything I really took away from Joni and Friends were all things I learned from watching others.

• Christ centered
  
  Not self focused. Being self-centered is the sin I've been seeing most in myself the past few months.
  So many people at Camp Joni were the opposite of this. Even in the small things. They'd walk by me during the middle of the day, say hello, and ask, "How is your day going?" when they were definitely the ones who had the harder job of both of us.
  They weren't trying to, but every time they'd ask me how I was doing it was a guilty reminder that I had only really been thinking about myself and hadn't thought to ask them the same question.
  
  Also, I don't know for sure, but possibly one of the reasons it was good for me to be in the Sib Program instead of having a camper was that if I had a camper I probably would have been a lot more focused on what I was doing and how "much" I was giving instead of looking at the situation thinking, "Well God, I really don't feel like I'm doing much of anything right now. So please use this small, small situation (in my eyes) and work through me anyway, even in something that doesn't seem like it's making a big difference."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I think sometimes it takes more of God's grace to serve in small ways. To notice the small things, to be willing to do them for the right reasons, not for the recognition.
  
  It's easier in many ways to go on a mission trip to a different country than it is to go weed the garden right after breakfast when you have a list of things you'd been planning to do instead.
  
  
  
  
  

• Prayer
  
  I was so impressed by all the prayer during Camp Joni. First in the tour where we stopped every so often and prayed for safety during the week. During the "commission" time before the families came. And to top it off, the end where Liz wanted to pray with us before we left.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Praying with people is special. I think it'd be way more meaningful if someone is going through a hard time, if we stop the conversation and what we're doing right there and offer to pray with them. Not just say quickly, "I'll try to be praying for you guys."
  
  I don't realize how important and special prayer is, but I got a small taste, and I want more.
  
• Reaching out to people
  
  Introvert, extrovert, or not... I want to be able to have Christ's love shining through me. And I want to be able to forget about myself (again, with the self-centered part) enough to be able to focus on others and what their needs are. To be able to make people feel at ease, too. To have them feel Christian love and fellowship and want that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  While I was with some of the people there, I couldn't really believe that I had just met them in the last few days.
  Seriously, if you had asked me to bet money on the fact that I hadn't known them a week earlier, I would have had a tough time doing that. My brain said I just met them, my heart said, "You've known these people forever." They were my family.
  

• Not judging personality on looks
  
  It's easy to have compassion for people who are disabled or just different if they are cute kids or good looking.
  It's hard when they can't focus their eyes or control movements. But sometimes they are family too. God's children. And my discomfort being around them or unwillingness to serve them is like saying, "They don't matter." But they do.
  
  
  Give me Your eyes, that I may love the broken and the ugly - (the ones who are probably more humble then I am.) The ones who worship with less pride then I do. The ones who You gave Your life for - may I give my life as a sacrifice to You by serving them.
  
  Enlarge my heart, let me see with new eyes. Give me strength to run the course of Your commands. Give me strength and a willing heart to give my all for You by letting go of all my selfishness and pride.
  
  
  
  
  

lazy-amazing

fog thick as
whipped cream
we’re sailing off the edge of the world
cold tea in
sloppy mugs
soggy tea bag swirled

waterfall mist
without the roar
skyscrapers rise where none were before
thoughts clearer than
the damp gray day
and smashed grass wet to the core

poultry smell of
winter soup
bare sunlight did not overstay
is that you in
my mind
or just the dim wind
inspiring, lazy-amazing day

if our family was in a movie

WARNING: STEREOTYPED.

And I mean all of these stereotypes in the nicest way possible.

Dad

The older, wise one who always has advice or a story/example to share.

Mom

The one who cares about everyone and want the best for everyone. Or at least her family. ;)

Jessica

The productive one who always has her hands literally full. Or the healthy one.

Seth

The one who cracks jokes all the time.

David

The one who always brings up the controversy. ;)

Michael

The one who always helps.

Rebecca

?

Joseph

The cool nerd.

Levi

The one who always breaks things or hurts himself.

Daniel

The slightly chubby kid who everyone loves and pats on the head.

Only he's a little too old for that now.

Nathanael

The one who is always talking.

:)

dishes

      I stand by the sink, sweater sleeves rolled up. Yesterday's hair falls around my shoulders as I scrub the grease off a glass pan.

      Nathanael sits across from me and forks another piece of caramel covered bread into his mouth. A steady stream of water slips down the left drain.

      "Women are like pans." Nathanael sips his milk, white dripping down the side of the orange cup.

      "Oh?" I raise an eyebrow and lean the pan against other drying dishes. "And how is that?"

      "You washed it in one sink and then the other sink again. And girls wash their hair twice." Nathanael kicks a foot against his chair.

      I pull the drain and watch the water as the inches drop. "Hm," I said.

Uncle Wilbur

2001

I peeled the bright sticker from it's backing, and the stiff edge slid underneath my fingernails. 

"Here," I said, and laughed shyly.

The man with white hair leaned down toward me, and my toes held me up as I reached toward his cap. I pressed the shiny sticker onto the blue front and rested back on my heels.

"Perfect," he said, patting the tip of his hat. "That's just right."

2002

He lifted the faded cap off his head. "See?" he said to me. "It's still here." His voice sank to a conspiratorial whisper. "My wife wants to wash it, but then it'll come off." 

He pointed to the peeling edges of the rainbow colored sticker. "It's still there!" he said again to assure me, and I nodded happily.

2004

I stood taller, shyer, and listened as he said goodbye to them. My teeth bit the edge of my lips, until he looked at me and smiled.

"The sticker came off," he said regretfully, and I nodded.

"That's okay," I said. He remembered!

"I tried to stick it back on," he explained, "but it wouldn't stay."

I ran to the van, scrambling back into my row. I yanked out my bag, rummaging wildly between the books and paper. There they are. I jumped out of the van and spied his retreating figure walking up the hill with his cane. I ran to catch up, pulling to a stop beside him.

"Here," I said, and laughed happily as I pushed the yellow sticker onto his brown cap.

2007

I sat next to his lawn chair on the porch.

"I have hot chocolate," he said, smiling. "Do you like hot chocolate?"

"Yeah," I said, laughing.

"I like it when there's marshmallows in it," he said in a confiding voice. "The little soft ones, that when you swallow they go down like--" he tilted his neck down and gulped dramatically as he popped up his head, and he made me laugh again.

I looked out at the sunlit lawn. "I think we have to go," I said, standing slowly and looking at his bare cap and plaid shirt.

Leaning over, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. As I let go, he sat forward and kissed my cheek with his smiling mouth. "That's a peck," he said. "A peck on the cheek." He squeezed my hand with his rough brown one.

"Here," I said, and laughed softly as I kissed his cheek and said goodbye.

Golden Flames

 [A few descriptive paragraphs that I had to write for a writing class.]

     I envisioned the fiery gold clouds rippling and unfurling before me like the rushing Mississippi river. Then they died down and narrowed to a thin stream, glinting and flowing steadily. The scarce trees beside me were black silhouettes cloaked in dusky splendor, reaching their arms up to drink of golden water. The spacious clouds were outlined in a dusty blue that was painted over the rest of the sky. It was as if the black ground had been charred by flames and the smoke drifted as a cloudy veil. The sky burned on, and nothing would stop the fire until all was black and ashes.
    I stood then and listened, and heard the ashes blow away. Softly, ever so softly, and the wind was in my ears. I imagined music, continuing easily and perfectly, but then fading as I strained to hear the end of the melody. But it vanished, and there was no noise. I breathed with effort; soundlessly and careful not to threaten end to the silence - the silence that played on my ears like a different sort of music, something without real sound, but you could still hear it somehow.
    I could almost smell smoke in the air, faint but believable. And then the smell of summer came, heavy and hazy, like strong lavender in a garden on a humid July day.

And I could feel. I could feel the wind that cooled the world on my skin. Hair brushed my face, and my feet stood solidly on the dry, hard ground. I could feel no pain. The warm air entered my mouth and throat and lungs as I breathed in deeply. I felt so alive that dark, warm summer’s night. The golden flames that consumed the world had gone, but light would come again, brighter and stronger, but not as deep. The breeze would go on, and the song of silence would still all other noise again. Life continued.