I don't want to think about it.
So, instead, I get out the last gift you gave me.
A delicate little menorah.
I load it up with candles and light them all.
Not to communicate with God;
just to watch it burn.
I stare at the candles as they flicker;
as they waste away.
And, afterwards, I stare at the lumps of wax they have become.
This is it, isn't it?
This is what it all becomes.
Ruin
This is what it is to reveal your insides;
to feel,
to be real:
a little pool of wax.
The menorah is marred with the drippings;
the candles gone,
having sacrificed all.
I think about you as I push a new candle into a holder,
pushing through the still soft remains of the one who was before it.
I ball some of the wax between my fingers.
I feel nothing,
loss,
grief,
regret,
anger,
and then nothing again.
Don't you love me?
Am I not worth it?
Foolishness;
useless thoughts;
once formed they burn away,
useful for nothing but covering the very vessel that gives them support.
I begin to scrape the wax off the menorah.
It's no use.
The wax has filled the intricate carvings decorating the piece,
now obscured and scarred.
It, too, ruined for fulfilling its purpose,
for being supportive.
The ruin affects us all.
I focus on the flame of the remaining candle.
My eyes water.
I can't have that.
I blow it out,
whisper amen.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
The Chase
Suddenly, she is awake. Senses heightened, mind racing, awake. One thought above all others:
Run! She does not know from what or to where but she finds her feet pounding the earth below her, at a haphazard pace that she could surely not maintain. Fear, overwhelming fear. And darkness. Everything is black. The path she is on is littered with black, slick leaves in layers that must have taken years to accumulate. It is amazing she is able to remain upright, running, stumbling forward at this ungodly pace. 'Where am I', she wonders. She is certain she has never been here before, but yet, it all seems familiar. She is certain there is a forged path through the towering black trees lying just beneath the layers of decomposing, black underbrush. Twigs snapping beneath her feet cause her to push on, almost falling. She wonders if the sound was made by her feet or by some unseen pursuer. The air is heavy and she feels as if her lungs refuse to allow it passage. Her legs become heavy, breath short. Warmth spreads across her flank. It is comforting in this cold, dark forest. The warmth begs her touch. She reaches through the layers of her cloak and, in the few slivers of moonlight allowed to reach the earth through the dense trees, she pulls her hand back wet and red. Blood. Her life draining, the warmth spreading down her leg. She looks down at the earth below her. She imagines it greedy for her blood, her warmth, her life. 'Shall I perish in this cold, dark place? Shall the trees be my only bereaved, or will they look upon me as an offering to the blood lust I fear they have?' The thoughts rush through her mind unabated. The damp earth opens its jowls beneath her and she finds herself enveloped. Desperate to fight the descent, she claws at the thick air above her. There is nothing to hold onto. There is no escape. 'From the earth I emerged and to the earth I shall return.' She recites the curse in her mind as her own warmth begins to engulf her. 'This is where I began,' she realizes. 'I blazed this trail. I planted these trees. The forest is my own.' Revelation upon revelation washes over her as she sinks further into the bowels of her fear, her forest, her darkness, her warmth. She slowly slips into unconsciousness, closing her eyes for the long awaited rest. There it is again, the snapping of twigs. Startled, she opens her eyes to see someone standing over her, reaching out to her. She instinctively reaches her hand up; the effort requiring all of her remaining strength. Immediately she finds herself standing on her feet, strength renewed. She reaches into her cloak to find her flesh intact. There is no blood. Questions overwhelm her. She looks to the stranger for answers but the figure merely turns away from her and begins walking. She follows the sure footsteps into a clearing where she sees a bed, of sorts, fashioned from the underbrush. The stranger turns to her, the moonlight illuminating blue eyes and pale skin. The eyes are her own! Her eyes are then drawn to the scar on the strangers hand. "That is my scar," she says. "When we planted the trees," the stranger replies, in a voice matching her own. "Rest now," the stranger says, pointing to the pallet of leaves. "Tomorrow, we begin again."
Run! She does not know from what or to where but she finds her feet pounding the earth below her, at a haphazard pace that she could surely not maintain. Fear, overwhelming fear. And darkness. Everything is black. The path she is on is littered with black, slick leaves in layers that must have taken years to accumulate. It is amazing she is able to remain upright, running, stumbling forward at this ungodly pace. 'Where am I', she wonders. She is certain she has never been here before, but yet, it all seems familiar. She is certain there is a forged path through the towering black trees lying just beneath the layers of decomposing, black underbrush. Twigs snapping beneath her feet cause her to push on, almost falling. She wonders if the sound was made by her feet or by some unseen pursuer. The air is heavy and she feels as if her lungs refuse to allow it passage. Her legs become heavy, breath short. Warmth spreads across her flank. It is comforting in this cold, dark forest. The warmth begs her touch. She reaches through the layers of her cloak and, in the few slivers of moonlight allowed to reach the earth through the dense trees, she pulls her hand back wet and red. Blood. Her life draining, the warmth spreading down her leg. She looks down at the earth below her. She imagines it greedy for her blood, her warmth, her life. 'Shall I perish in this cold, dark place? Shall the trees be my only bereaved, or will they look upon me as an offering to the blood lust I fear they have?' The thoughts rush through her mind unabated. The damp earth opens its jowls beneath her and she finds herself enveloped. Desperate to fight the descent, she claws at the thick air above her. There is nothing to hold onto. There is no escape. 'From the earth I emerged and to the earth I shall return.' She recites the curse in her mind as her own warmth begins to engulf her. 'This is where I began,' she realizes. 'I blazed this trail. I planted these trees. The forest is my own.' Revelation upon revelation washes over her as she sinks further into the bowels of her fear, her forest, her darkness, her warmth. She slowly slips into unconsciousness, closing her eyes for the long awaited rest. There it is again, the snapping of twigs. Startled, she opens her eyes to see someone standing over her, reaching out to her. She instinctively reaches her hand up; the effort requiring all of her remaining strength. Immediately she finds herself standing on her feet, strength renewed. She reaches into her cloak to find her flesh intact. There is no blood. Questions overwhelm her. She looks to the stranger for answers but the figure merely turns away from her and begins walking. She follows the sure footsteps into a clearing where she sees a bed, of sorts, fashioned from the underbrush. The stranger turns to her, the moonlight illuminating blue eyes and pale skin. The eyes are her own! Her eyes are then drawn to the scar on the strangers hand. "That is my scar," she says. "When we planted the trees," the stranger replies, in a voice matching her own. "Rest now," the stranger says, pointing to the pallet of leaves. "Tomorrow, we begin again."
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Run, Run
So, I ran a mile today. Without stopping. No big deal to most people but to a big girl like me it's an accomplishment. I've been working up to it for some time; running parts but walking in between. I love to run and now that I can finally run a mile again I will start to call myself a runner. No, I won't, but it felt good writing that. Running is a chance for me to clear my mind. That being said, here is a quick recap of my internal monologue tonight during my mile trek.
Ok, here I go. Run, run. Hey this feels good. Good pace. Run, run. Good song. I like Maroon Five. Glad I bought this Ipod. Glad I have a fourteen year old who can fix my Ipod. Run, run. Still doing well. Glad I have this music on so I can't hear my heavy breathing. I think that psyches me out, hearing my breathing like a dog in the heat of summer. Run, run. Should I stop? No, keep going. Run, run. This song is not a good running song. It makes me a little sad; 'talking to the moon.' Keep pace. Run, run. Should I stop? No keep going. Run, run. Second wind, maybe; hopefully. Run, run. I want to walk. Don't. Run, run. Better song; Smashing Pumpkins. Run, run. 'Be the change you want to be.' Who said that? Was that Billy Blanks or Dahli Lama? I can't remember. Run, run. You know what I need right now? I need that Nike commercial; hard work. Can I just play that ad on my Ipod? Am I the target audience of that ad? What was the product? Shoes, maybe. I suppose I might be the target audience. I love shoes. Run, run. Or is it a Gatorade commercial? I don't drink much Gatorade, but if I could sweat neon orange I might. Run, run. Paseo Circle. Oh my gosh, I'm almost done. Should I stop? No, I've come this far. Run, run. Keep pace. I must look ridiculous; this big girl, desperately attempting to put one foot in front of the other, panting away. Run, run. Almost home. I'm proud of myself. I want to die, also. Run, run. DONE!!!!!
A whole mile, (which, I am aware is not a marathon or anything,) and my deepest thought was shoes. Ah, it's good to run!
Ok, here I go. Run, run. Hey this feels good. Good pace. Run, run. Good song. I like Maroon Five. Glad I bought this Ipod. Glad I have a fourteen year old who can fix my Ipod. Run, run. Still doing well. Glad I have this music on so I can't hear my heavy breathing. I think that psyches me out, hearing my breathing like a dog in the heat of summer. Run, run. Should I stop? No, keep going. Run, run. This song is not a good running song. It makes me a little sad; 'talking to the moon.' Keep pace. Run, run. Should I stop? No keep going. Run, run. Second wind, maybe; hopefully. Run, run. I want to walk. Don't. Run, run. Better song; Smashing Pumpkins. Run, run. 'Be the change you want to be.' Who said that? Was that Billy Blanks or Dahli Lama? I can't remember. Run, run. You know what I need right now? I need that Nike commercial; hard work. Can I just play that ad on my Ipod? Am I the target audience of that ad? What was the product? Shoes, maybe. I suppose I might be the target audience. I love shoes. Run, run. Or is it a Gatorade commercial? I don't drink much Gatorade, but if I could sweat neon orange I might. Run, run. Paseo Circle. Oh my gosh, I'm almost done. Should I stop? No, I've come this far. Run, run. Keep pace. I must look ridiculous; this big girl, desperately attempting to put one foot in front of the other, panting away. Run, run. Almost home. I'm proud of myself. I want to die, also. Run, run. DONE!!!!!
A whole mile, (which, I am aware is not a marathon or anything,) and my deepest thought was shoes. Ah, it's good to run!
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Just Some Things
So, this working thing I do is really affecting my blogging life. If only I could secure some kind of pay for sitting in front of a computer all day...wait...never mind. (Insert lol.) Anyways, there are times when I'm all like, "Geez, I would really like to blog today and then I get home from work, have these three kids, life, laundry, on and on... But, despite it all, today I am posting.
So, here are a few things going on in my life:
Work: (Edited)
Home: My kids are great, new house, plenty to do. Good there.
Things I have wanted to blog about lately:
1. I was at my son's soccer game; (yep, I'm a soccer mom,) and behind me there was this family, a mom, a dad figure, and a teenage girl. The girl, evidently, is a cheerleader. She was all like, "OMG I am sooo white and I need a tan." Then the mom was like, "Yes, you do and I'm not paying for tanning! You better sit your butt outside all summer!" What?!? Here is what I heard: 'Mom, I feel bad about my body image.' 'You're right daughter, you look terrible. You need to increase your chance of getting skin cancer to look acceptable.' I did not say anything.
2. Parking: Is it really so difficult? I mean, there are these white or yellow lines...
3. Fake people: I am surrounded by them on a daily basis. Just be honest. Most people can handle it. You don't have to pretend to like me. I don't even pretend to like me. C'mon, is it so hard to say what you feel? (I apologize if that song just popped into your head: "I wanna see you be brave.") No one is perfect. I can appreciate that. Please don't pretend to be something you're not. If you're not nice, just be mean. If you're not confident, it's ok to ask for help. If you know you're right, say so. If you're not competent, please don't pretend. (In my field, that's how people die. I'm just saying.)
4. Ungratefulness: Here's the thing about this. I have been so frustrated lately with people being ungrateful. If someone helps you, say thank you. Going to complain that someone does not help you when they clearly do is horrible! You know who you are!! It's only when something is gone that people truly appreciate what they had.
5.Laziness: It is NOT too much to expect someone to do their job. Period. (I know I typed a period after that first sentence there but I still felt the need to type out the word period, too; just for added emphasis. On that note, that's all I have to say about that. Period.)
Having said all that, I want to say that I, too, am ungrateful. I owe so much to God and I am not focused on that most times. The major difference is that instead of responding with frustration to my ungratefulness, He responds with love and grace. This is something for me to think about. It's like my dad said, "You can not change people. You can only change your reaction to them." On this I ponder. Thanks for reading.
So, here are a few things going on in my life:
Work: (Edited)
Home: My kids are great, new house, plenty to do. Good there.
Things I have wanted to blog about lately:
1. I was at my son's soccer game; (yep, I'm a soccer mom,) and behind me there was this family, a mom, a dad figure, and a teenage girl. The girl, evidently, is a cheerleader. She was all like, "OMG I am sooo white and I need a tan." Then the mom was like, "Yes, you do and I'm not paying for tanning! You better sit your butt outside all summer!" What?!? Here is what I heard: 'Mom, I feel bad about my body image.' 'You're right daughter, you look terrible. You need to increase your chance of getting skin cancer to look acceptable.' I did not say anything.
2. Parking: Is it really so difficult? I mean, there are these white or yellow lines...
3. Fake people: I am surrounded by them on a daily basis. Just be honest. Most people can handle it. You don't have to pretend to like me. I don't even pretend to like me. C'mon, is it so hard to say what you feel? (I apologize if that song just popped into your head: "I wanna see you be brave.") No one is perfect. I can appreciate that. Please don't pretend to be something you're not. If you're not nice, just be mean. If you're not confident, it's ok to ask for help. If you know you're right, say so. If you're not competent, please don't pretend. (In my field, that's how people die. I'm just saying.)
4. Ungratefulness: Here's the thing about this. I have been so frustrated lately with people being ungrateful. If someone helps you, say thank you. Going to complain that someone does not help you when they clearly do is horrible! You know who you are!! It's only when something is gone that people truly appreciate what they had.
5.Laziness: It is NOT too much to expect someone to do their job. Period. (I know I typed a period after that first sentence there but I still felt the need to type out the word period, too; just for added emphasis. On that note, that's all I have to say about that. Period.)
Having said all that, I want to say that I, too, am ungrateful. I owe so much to God and I am not focused on that most times. The major difference is that instead of responding with frustration to my ungratefulness, He responds with love and grace. This is something for me to think about. It's like my dad said, "You can not change people. You can only change your reaction to them." On this I ponder. Thanks for reading.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Hallelujah
Hallelujah.
Promises lost. Vows broken. Holiness forgotten. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Sanity broken. Anger risen. Patience lost. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Ships up-heaven. Lights faded. Life lost. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Bitterness conquered. Hatred held. Darkness sought. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Voice calling. Heart rejected. Light receded. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Arms open. Eyes averted. Heart retreated. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Voice calling. Arms open. Savior calling. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Heart broken. Soul weeping. Guilt rising. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Voice calling. Heart breaking. Soul pleading. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Voice calling. Arms open. Savior embracing. Hope present.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Promises lost. Vows broken. Holiness forgotten. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Sanity broken. Anger risen. Patience lost. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Ships up-heaven. Lights faded. Life lost. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Bitterness conquered. Hatred held. Darkness sought. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Voice calling. Heart rejected. Light receded. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Arms open. Eyes averted. Heart retreated. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Voice calling. Arms open. Savior calling. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Heart broken. Soul weeping. Guilt rising. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Voice calling. Heart breaking. Soul pleading. Hope gone.
Hallelujah.
Voice calling. Arms open. Savior embracing. Hope present.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Either You Will Love the One and Hate the Other
Alright, so who has seen this new show, Preachers of LA? Anyone? Well, I would love for everyone to watch one episode. I have seen all the episodes so far and, I must say, there is little differentiation between them. So, basically, the premise is this: all these (famous?) preachers in Los Angeles are on a reality show that follows their personal lives and their interaction with each other. Now, I have never heard of any of the preachers and its not quite relevant to know their names, anyways. As an aside, the show airs on the Oxygen network. Outside of this show, I have never seen any of the other shows on this network. A brief look at their website reveals they have other shows, such as Bad Girls, My Big Fat Revenge and Best Ink. I haven't the slightest what any of those shows are about, but it looks like quality viewing to me... Anyways, this show is ridiculous. I know, I know, I just recommended you watch it; let me tell you why. The producers of this show must have worked on Cribs. Who remembers that show? All these famous artists and athletes taking MTV into their homes to show off all of their extravagance... Remember how it would show them getting out of their Bentley or BMW all in slow motion with background music and the little 'bling' flash and sound? Well, you get the same shots in this show about these preachers, with the same vehicles and everything. It makes for good TV. These producers are as cynical about the 'megachurch' in America as I am.
As it turns out, the gospel business is quite lucrative. This is not a secret to most Christians but I would at least consider it dirty laundry. I mean, we all remember that Jesus would travel around in a golden carriage and go to all the happening religious places to preach the Word before returning to his comfortable palace with all of his entourage. Wait? That didn't happen? Oh, well, doesn't the Bible say some where, "Brethren, I wish above all that you prosper and be of good health?" Doesn't that justify everything? Nobody mention anything about that being a standard Roman greeting.
This show brings into focus the hypocrisy that most Christians in this country live their lives with, myself included. The real gospel is giving all that you have to those that have not and following Christ. The real gospel is a rough wooden cross. It is not comfortable for anyone. It is not comfortable for me. The tension is ever present. It is easy for me to be appalled at these million dollar business parading around in the sheep's clothing of the 'church.' However, my disgust must be self reflective. Hmm, the tension continues...
As it turns out, the gospel business is quite lucrative. This is not a secret to most Christians but I would at least consider it dirty laundry. I mean, we all remember that Jesus would travel around in a golden carriage and go to all the happening religious places to preach the Word before returning to his comfortable palace with all of his entourage. Wait? That didn't happen? Oh, well, doesn't the Bible say some where, "Brethren, I wish above all that you prosper and be of good health?" Doesn't that justify everything? Nobody mention anything about that being a standard Roman greeting.
This show brings into focus the hypocrisy that most Christians in this country live their lives with, myself included. The real gospel is giving all that you have to those that have not and following Christ. The real gospel is a rough wooden cross. It is not comfortable for anyone. It is not comfortable for me. The tension is ever present. It is easy for me to be appalled at these million dollar business parading around in the sheep's clothing of the 'church.' However, my disgust must be self reflective. Hmm, the tension continues...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)