Ski Poles and Death

When I hear that someone has died it feels like someone has handed me a pair of skis to carry.
It's awkward, I don't know whether to carry them over my shoulder or in my arms.
They keep slipping out and hitting me in the shins when I carry them in my arms. And when I balance them across my shoulder I end up hitting people with the ends. So I keep trying different ways, but none of them quite works.

Hearing that someone has died is this unmanageable, difficult, and strange load to carry. I don't know whether to leave it lying where I found it, hurl it in the opposite direction or carry it. If I should carry it, then how?

Regardless, if I choose to carry them now or later, I will have to carry this. If not now I'll be forced to come back and take it up later. I don't want that. So I choose to carry it now.

Come in!

Come in!
Grab a glass of water.
That mug over there will do.

Come in!
And say hello!
How are you?
Are you happy or are you sad?
Here listen to this song, take a cookie and settle down.

I want to hear everything. Every thing you have to say.

Am I smiling?
You're smiling too.
Because it is good to see you.

I can't wait for you to stay. Until things are like they were. But different.

New and old mixed together like chocolate and caramel.

Come in!
Take a seat. You look beat. Not good at all.
Spill it out and let me share whatever it is you carry.
And here hold what I have instead.

A letter, I read, from a friend about her cat who got stuck in a Church pew.
And couldn't stop meowing too, and everyone wondered where the sound came from.
As they tried to hear the sermon.

Come in!
Collapse on that chair over there.
You're back again, what does it take to make you stay away?
I wink, because no matter how you annoy I'm glad that I get to complain to you and not someone else.

Come in!
It's been far too long, my friend.
I say those words with love, in place of the oh so glorious hug.
People say I'm not affectionate. But if you open your eyes to see. You'd hear what I mean when I say my friend. 

Kenneth Hampton

Here is a story about a man named Kenneth Hampton.

A man of few wants and simple pleasures. He drank coffee and the Montana mornings. Although that sounds too poetic. He did love Montana though. In the morning he ate a hearty breakfast. He went to work, played the guitar. Told too many jokes to count. He loved a good burger. Hardy's Burgers just about hit the spot.
His emails were short but not sweet. Instead they were savory like his favorite burgers. Simple but they hit the spot.

"How are you?"

"How's Elisa the Actress?"

"How's my favorite grandaughter?"
Okay, he didn't say that last one. Because he actually had a lot of grandaughters. Too many to have one favorite. And he had lots of grandsons. And he had three fantastic children.

They each took up his arts.

All three took up music. And all three took up his sense of humor in a way. Especially the last one, he's got it to the core.

Was he stubborn? Stubborn as heck. And so was his wife, my grandma. Both so stubborn but I do believe they loved each other. Despite their fights, despite their differences, despite everything they ever said- they loved each other. That makes me wonder what he's going to say when he sees her in heaven.

Boy, I'd love to be there for that.

So there's been talk about him kicking the bucket for awhile. But like I said, he's stubborn (as heck). He held out through a lot. But I'm not going to talk about that, because it's done. He's through the worst of it and come out the other side. He did good.

Here's to Hope!

Here's to Hope!
Vibrant, persistent, unflagging, nagging, unquenchable, untamable hope.

Here's to LIFE!

The life God has given me! The life God has given you!

The pain, the hurt, the anguish, the doubts, the fears, the healing, the growth, the joy, the faith, the courage we find.

Here's to God's Promises!

Which your doubts can't change. Which lies can't change. Which your fear can't change. Which anything and everything that could ever be can never change.

Here's to a FRESH start!

Take a deep breath. Does it feel good? Do you feel unworthy? I do. But hey God knows what he's doing, just hold on tight.

Here's to LOVE!

God's love. Which builds and heals and mends and cures and saves and cleanses, redeems, remakes, and causes us to live.

Here's to PURPOSE!

God's Kingdom. This is not the end. This is not what will be. The world is under construction, being remade into God's Kingdom.

And dang. Isn't that an amazing reason to hope, to live, to dream?

Here's to this moment!

Awful or Great. Mundane or a Revelation. It is what it is. So see what God can do.

Watch and see what God WILL do.

Rain or Shine

Sometimes when its cold it's good to remember what it feels like to be warm.

You shouldn't trick yourself into thinking it's warm when it isn't-- that's called hypothermia and is quite dangerous.

Similarly, if you're sad or depressed you shouldn't trick yourself into being happy. Don't lie and say life is fine. And don't lie and say that everything is horrible and life will never be good again.

Its ironic that we say that. 

"Life is bad." or "life is good."

No. Life is neither good nor bad. It simply is. It is us, and our situations who are good or bad. It is us and our actions that can bear the label "good" or "bad."

Thankfully we don't have to go around carrying those labels. Instead I bear the label "righteous." 

Well, you might say I don't deserve to carry around that nametag. My friend Jesus, who did deserve very much, gave it to me. And since he deserves it he has the right to wear it and give it to whomever he chooses.

I'm rambling. Back to my point. Remember good times and bad times equally. Don't let yourself be bogged down, remember what the sunshine feels like when it's raining and remember the cool beautiful feel of the rain when it's blazing hot.

Change

Poetry is like cleaning a closet.

It lets me pull everything out and see what exactly is crammed into my soul

I can throw away the bad

Recycle the okay

And reorganize my thoughts and feelings into something manageable

Then once I've pulled the mess out and sorted through everything

I can replace it back into a neat tidy arrangement

That's how I wish it worked.

More often I pull everything out, look at it, and cram it back in largely untouched and even messier than before. 

God- he's the only deep cleaner. The only true housekeeper of my soul. The only one who can undo all the knots. The only one who can clean the stains on the shelves and carpet. The only one who can heck, tear it all down and rebuild a brand new closet. Brand new wood, brand new shelves, brand new carpet, brand new lights, and doors and doorknobs. Everything bright and clean and durable. 

And on the shelves books, but only the books I need. Instead of a pile of old clothes and string and necklaces and games and half folded jeans and boxes filled with who knows what. 

Well instead of all that junk that I thought I needed so much I just have what I need.

A couple of books, a pair of shoes, a coat to stay warm, a brightly colored box, and a beautiful gray rock.

Now looking at it, I wondered why I would ever want to go back to the old closet. The one filled with stains and messes and untied knots and boxes and boxes of rubbish. 

So here I am sitting in my old closet, wondering how in the world it will ever be like this brand new closet God showed me in a  picture. His promise of what his rennovations will look like once complete.

He's already started but, I keep stopping him and shoving back my old things onto the shelves. 

I guess I thought that would stop him. That somehow I, with my mistakes could prevent the creator of the universe from building something new. That somehow I am not doing enough to let him change me. I'm not praying enough, otherwise I would have changed already. Wouldn't I?

But tonight is late. And I am tired. And God has forgiven me. That's all I need. And heck, haha he created the world. Of course he is changing me. God's got this. 

Honesty

It's like a opening a window and letting in a fresh breeze
It clears the stink and musty smell of a room

It helps you gain perspective
On how to go on from here

"I'd like a little honesty." I say.

But that's a lie.

What I really mean: "I'd like complete and utter overwhelming honesty, all the honesty in the world if you please."

But again that's a lie.

Cause if I wanted honesty.
I'd be honest with myself. The reason I keep listening. Is not because I'm kind.
Somewhere deep inside, I want to believe the lies. Indulge in the instantaneous gratification they afford.

Even if later it makes me hurt.

Because here I say I'd like a fresh breeze in my face.

When all I ever had to do, was open the window.


Song Version:

Chorus 1: 
It's like opening a window
and letting in a fresh breeze
It clears the stale, musty smell of a room

It helps you gain perspective
On how to go on from here

I'd like a little. I'd like a little honesty I say.

Chorus 2:
It's like walking on a cold day
after a warm fire

It gets your blood pumping in your veins.

It helps you remember. What it is you used to be.

I'd  like a little. I'd like a little honesty I say.

Chorus 3:
It's like pulling off a bandaid.
Or feeling something sting.

The pain helps remind you of what still needs to heal.

It helps you not ignore things. Like wounds that need to be tended to.

I'd like a little. I'd like a little honesty I say.


Verse 1:
But that's a lie.

What I really mean.
I'd like complete and overwhelmingy honesty.
all the honesty in the world.
for everyone but me.

Verse 2:
But again that's a lie.
Cause if I wanted honesty.
I'd be honest with myself.
The reason I keep listening. Is not because I'm kind.
Somewhere deep inside, I want to believe the lies.

Bridge:
Because here I say I'd like a fresh breeze in my face.

When all I ever had to do, was open the window.

Sick on Half Truths

Hebrews 12:11-13 “All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness. 12Therefore, strengthen the hands that are weak and the knees that are feeble, 13and make straight paths for your feet, so that the limb which is lame may not be put out of joint, but rather be healed.”

There are different ways to process life: throwing pity parties, (a personal favorite of mine), ignoring the problem…or find the humour in it. (And yes I just spelled that with a “u” it’s the British way of spelling it mind you).

Vulgarity. I hear that word and I think of vultures and a putrid smelling, moldy container of food left in the fridge too long.

Eww like the food I kept in my fridge. I was hoping to eat it eventually but it went bad. It stunk up my whole dorm room when I opened the fridge to throw it out. I had to throw open the windows and door to get rid of the smell. It’s very hard to get rid of smells they cling.

It is 9:41 and I am in/on the Sky Bridge in Western Washington University’s library. The people around me are sucking up every bit of sanity they can gather and trying to absorb every last lick of material into their already information saturated brains. But if we were to be honest, many of my fellow student’s brains are saturated with more than just information from classes. Every day we are squeezed of hope and wrung out of any aspiration or inclination to lift up our eyes. Then we are soaked in despair, and small ingratiating habits and ideas. They stick us with a thousand poisonous words and ideas. And everyone is drowning and pulling and grasping anyone around them. Pulling them down whilst trying to pull themselves up. And if nothing else at least pulling others down with them so that they won’t be alone in their pits. 

I sound very bitter don’t I? I make it sound extremely depressing. Like we are all in prison or being held and tortured against our will. Instead we are fed thousands of little lies, harmless, naïve, gray, and unstable half-truths and deceptions wrapped in partial truth. And we are all sick.

Well I was.

It’s really hard. I get hungry and they are continually offering these little lies wrapped in partial truths.

But today was beautiful. And I’m not stuck. God pulled me out of the pit.

It feels so good to breath clean air. To know truth, to receive a taste of something pure and good.
I’m pretty wretched. The worst of sinners. And I messed up again today. I’m stuck in a cycle of sin. And keep letting myself getting sucked back in.

But every time God pulls me out and sets me on my feet again. And doesn’t just set me on my feet, but He’s been training me too. He’s been strengthening my feeble arms and weak knees. Showing me how to defend against these attacks. Showing me how to focus on loving and acting out my faith in obedience. Teaching me not to live in fear.  I’m so afraid of failing again. Of walking back into this disgusting pit again. But God is so patient. He has rescued me every single time. 

Why should I be afraid? Why should I be hopeless? God is my strength and my song. 

Good Food is a Smile on My Face

Good food
Makes people smile
gives them energy

takes away hunger

I don't know a better way to worship
than baking someone cookies

using what we've been given

to make something delicious
and share with someone else

to create

and make

and dream

and live

to grow

and lift our faces to the sun

He compared us to trees

So let's send down our roots.

The storm will come
So let's soak in the sun

Each day is complete in itself.
Today is no less nor more than it should be.

Longing

Have I always lived with this longing?
Like something constantly tugging, and pulling me away from contentment.
A restlessness I wish I could still.

Like the ocean pulling in and out
It constantly beats on the shore.

But maybe this life is not meant to fill
And yet in you God.
I find a peace.
A rhythm to the movement
A peace within the waves