As I spent some time with God today, I was overwhelmed by my gratitude and overall happiness -- only to be shocked to find myself suddenly worried and anxious that I was going to miss something by my simple contentedness. I still want to go. I still want to travel. I remember the night before I left for YWAM, as I was packing, I thought to myself (in the midst of butterflies that were turning into a painful ache) 'Why do I always want to leave what's comfortable and safe?' There I was, in the peacefulness of my home, about to leave and start something completely unknown. And why? I guess it's childish to want to leave and explore and venture. And my thoughts brought me to Thoreau's famous quote about "sucking the marrow" out of life. I read the beginning of Walden, and found so much of what my heart speaks and didn't even know. Save and except the fact that Thoreau was probably an evolutionist atheist, I believe his searching is fairly true to life. As I read, I think it's become more clear why I have the desire to leave -- my experience at YWAM was hard and uncomfortable, and most importantly, simplistic. And I think that's why I felt so alive, and why it was my own Walden, respectively.
"When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality...children, who play life, discern its true law and relations more clearly than men, who fail to live it worthily, but who think that they are wiser by experience, that is, by failure"
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it..."
- Henry David Thoreau, "Walden", excerpts from chapter 2
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
meet mrs. bower
If you've ever met Laura you're probably shocked at least once during your conversation. It could be it be because what she says is either so progressive and edgy that it makes Ellen DeGenerous look like a Limbaugh's BFF, or it could be because what she says is spoken out of a paradigm formed sometime between when the dinosaurs roamed and JFK was shot. The following are just a few of the indelible subjects that are so constant to my mother's nature and character that I'm sure I'll be able to speak on these with humor and truth even in her eulogy. The first are her major medical discoveries and the latter are just a catch-all of her favorite subjects.
1. Her belief that most health concerns in my generation are the result of an overdose of sugar in their diet: (This coincides indirectly with her theory that God gives adolescents acne as a means to impede the hasty introduction and fellowship of two very-physical bodies) She is convinced that any personality issue from disposition to any diagnosed medical disorder are the direct result of the influx of sugary foods in kids' diets today. Sugar-coated gummy worms are the anti-Christ.
2. Vitamin C cures everything. Take at least 4x the recommended dosage or it won't do any good.
3. The physical state of your tongue is a direct reflection of your body's inner health. If there is anything other than a perfectly pink, beautiful tongue shooting out at her when you say "ahhh" then please see #2.
4.Don't eat out of the serving bowl. That's bad manners. Not only is it bad manners, but it's actually poor breeding. And not only is it poor breeding, it's a sign that you have no self control and is probably indicative of some serious character flaw which is the direct result of your lack of discipline. In fact, are you saved?
5. You probably shouldn't have more than one window or application open on your computer. That's just asking to get confused.
6. What is text messaging? And how does the internet have enough room for everything?
7. It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
8. Good girls wear hosiery. Even if the last time the general population wore hosiery on a regular basis was in 1965, it's still a good idea for church events and formal occasion. ("I haven't left the house without Lyrca on these thighs since I was 15." "That's 'cause you were brought up right" Steel Magnolias quote)
9. Nothing good happens past midnight. (Annnnndddd she's usually right. Ha)
10. Favorite sayings:
"Aren't you going to fix your face?"
Translation: Put on make up so you don't look like you do currently.
"Zap it."
Translation: Microwave it.
"Xerox it."
Translation: Record it (on television).
"Bless his/her heart"
Translation: He/She is an idiot.
Please feel free to add/edit any of what I've written. I'm sure that if you've met her, you've recognized a few of quirks all on your own....
1. Her belief that most health concerns in my generation are the result of an overdose of sugar in their diet: (This coincides indirectly with her theory that God gives adolescents acne as a means to impede the hasty introduction and fellowship of two very-physical bodies) She is convinced that any personality issue from disposition to any diagnosed medical disorder are the direct result of the influx of sugary foods in kids' diets today. Sugar-coated gummy worms are the anti-Christ.
2. Vitamin C cures everything. Take at least 4x the recommended dosage or it won't do any good.
3. The physical state of your tongue is a direct reflection of your body's inner health. If there is anything other than a perfectly pink, beautiful tongue shooting out at her when you say "ahhh" then please see #2.
4.Don't eat out of the serving bowl. That's bad manners. Not only is it bad manners, but it's actually poor breeding. And not only is it poor breeding, it's a sign that you have no self control and is probably indicative of some serious character flaw which is the direct result of your lack of discipline. In fact, are you saved?
5. You probably shouldn't have more than one window or application open on your computer. That's just asking to get confused.
6. What is text messaging? And how does the internet have enough room for everything?
7. It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
8. Good girls wear hosiery. Even if the last time the general population wore hosiery on a regular basis was in 1965, it's still a good idea for church events and formal occasion. ("I haven't left the house without Lyrca on these thighs since I was 15." "That's 'cause you were brought up right" Steel Magnolias quote)
9. Nothing good happens past midnight. (Annnnndddd she's usually right. Ha)
10. Favorite sayings:
"Aren't you going to fix your face?"
Translation: Put on make up so you don't look like you do currently.
"Zap it."
Translation: Microwave it.
"Xerox it."
Translation: Record it (on television).
"Bless his/her heart"
Translation: He/She is an idiot.
Please feel free to add/edit any of what I've written. I'm sure that if you've met her, you've recognized a few of quirks all on your own....
Thursday, August 7, 2008
musings
I've spent a lot of time just being quiet in the Lord's presence lately. At first I would just listen to music or play my guitar after reading a few verses. Then I just started to sit with Him while listening to music. And now, I've found myself sitting, staring dead-still out of my window, asking Him to just be with me. Fighting the temptation to label myself a loon, I've decided that my soul needs just that: perfect quiet.
Oswald Chambers said something in today's entry about prayer not being about getting answers, but about perfect communion with the Living God. And however imperfect sometimes I feel our communion is, I believe he's right. I've been striving and striving and begging and pleading for God to make clear some sort of direction for my life, and have little to no writing in the sky to lead me onward. Frustrated like mad, I have to remind myself that He is more about the process of finding our calling than anything.
And so, as I am so apt at doing, I took perfect, holy knowledge and buried it away. Now far from the light of my conscious, I lay in bed going over and over again different job opportunities and locations that have been popping up recently. As I was weighing each and every possibility with utmost delicacy in taciturn debate, I think I finally realized how much my decision-making is through fear.
Fear.
Fear! How the heck can I claim that I trust Him, if in all actuality, I DON'T. How can begin to seek Him and His will for my life's purpose if I can't let go of the control I have over my circumstances, my finances, my fears. How petty of me to have considered the possibilities of my future by nickels and dimes in comparison to the vastness of the riches of my Holy Father! If in considering the lilies of the field, I find myself still riddled with fear of 'not making it', I must be missing something.
How have I let myself into this trap? I know that I know that I know that He is faithful. His faithful kindness has humbled me on more than one occasion, and still there I lie fretting and fearful over which job would bring me a suitable amount of happiness weighed against a suitable living wage. Ha.
Surely He remembers I am dust. Surely He knows.
And I'm convinced (again) that He does. I wrote these lines in my journal earlier:
"I will rest in the quiet of your nearness;
I am lost in the vastness of your name.
The silence still sings of your praise;
May my heart lay near thine always."
So, I'm back to being quiet before Him. Perfect love casts out all fear. His love casts out my fears.
Glory.
Oswald Chambers said something in today's entry about prayer not being about getting answers, but about perfect communion with the Living God. And however imperfect sometimes I feel our communion is, I believe he's right. I've been striving and striving and begging and pleading for God to make clear some sort of direction for my life, and have little to no writing in the sky to lead me onward. Frustrated like mad, I have to remind myself that He is more about the process of finding our calling than anything.
And so, as I am so apt at doing, I took perfect, holy knowledge and buried it away. Now far from the light of my conscious, I lay in bed going over and over again different job opportunities and locations that have been popping up recently. As I was weighing each and every possibility with utmost delicacy in taciturn debate, I think I finally realized how much my decision-making is through fear.
Fear.
Fear! How the heck can I claim that I trust Him, if in all actuality, I DON'T. How can begin to seek Him and His will for my life's purpose if I can't let go of the control I have over my circumstances, my finances, my fears. How petty of me to have considered the possibilities of my future by nickels and dimes in comparison to the vastness of the riches of my Holy Father! If in considering the lilies of the field, I find myself still riddled with fear of 'not making it', I must be missing something.
How have I let myself into this trap? I know that I know that I know that He is faithful. His faithful kindness has humbled me on more than one occasion, and still there I lie fretting and fearful over which job would bring me a suitable amount of happiness weighed against a suitable living wage. Ha.
Surely He remembers I am dust. Surely He knows.
And I'm convinced (again) that He does. I wrote these lines in my journal earlier:
"I will rest in the quiet of your nearness;
I am lost in the vastness of your name.
The silence still sings of your praise;
May my heart lay near thine always."
So, I'm back to being quiet before Him. Perfect love casts out all fear. His love casts out my fears.
Glory.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
just a run-of-the-mill life's purpose
Stan has a job for me today: to write out my 'life's purpose.' Yikes.
This is what I know:
My heart is to love you, Lord, and to be loved by you.
My desire is to honor you.
My passion is to show others more of who you are and to usher them into your presence.
I love music.
My urgency is to care for the least of these.
These hands are yours, teach them to serve as you please.
As I reach out, desperate to see all the greatness of God, may my soul rest assured in You.
-Hillsong United
This is what I know:
My heart is to love you, Lord, and to be loved by you.
My desire is to honor you.
My passion is to show others more of who you are and to usher them into your presence.
I love music.
My urgency is to care for the least of these.
These hands are yours, teach them to serve as you please.
As I reach out, desperate to see all the greatness of God, may my soul rest assured in You.
-Hillsong United
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
jhm...
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow.
Seems too soon to have been a year ago. His life seems still more real than his death. What sense does it make to to feel like everything and nothing has changed? Weird.
Jordan said there was a deep sadness in my eyes over the last few days, and maybe so only because when my mind is at peace, it rests on him. Nothing about this is fair or simple, and I still like to believe that he chose to go. He wanted to go on ahead.
But I still wish he could see us now.
Father, I still trust you.
Monday, June 2, 2008
a keeper
Yesterday, I was so tired that I was near-delirium. As I was falling asleep, I suddenly had the most vivid memory of the last time I saw Josh. It was so real and random that I woke from my half-stupor and nearly cried.
He knew I was in Dallas before I was going to leave for the holidays, but I was so screwy about him that I wanted to see him, but didn't want to admit it, so I so kindly offered him the chance to take me to the airport at the crack of dawn the next morning. And so, at 4:30 a.m., or some unholy time of the morning, he knocked on Anne's door to take me. I remember I wrote Anne a note because I wasn't going to wake her that said, "It's 4:30 a.m. and I have a full face of make up on and my hair is done. What's wrong with me?" Ha...and so I answered the door fresh-faced and ready in the darkness of the December early morning.
He was dressed in torn jeans and some baggy t-shirt with a John Deer hat, and his hair was curly and long underneath. I remember laughing to myself because his style of late was so trendy that it must have taken hours to meticulously create each outfit: euro hairstyle, hair gel, expensive jeans and abnormal amounts of stupid accessories of some kind. But standing there in front of me now, he looked so unkempt, so.. normal. It's ironic that the last time I saw him he reminded me so much of the first time we met: torn jeans, Abercrombie shirt, hair long and curly on the ends.
I remember Anne came down with me to answer the door and he said hello politely, aware that she wasn't his biggest fan. Then he hoisted my huge suitcase and guitar over the side of his truck without a struggle, which was so strange because he was always so damn skinny and looked like he could blow over at any moment. We talked about how he had stayed up all night because they had gotten in so late, and everyone had eaten mushrooms but he hadn't. Right off the bat he joked that he had never gotten goodbye kiss at the airport and was looking forward to it. I laughed and said, "Oh, are you!?" teasingly.
I remember he didn't know exactly how to get to Love Field airport. But I remember that I was uncharacteristically laid back about getting there, only because I knew that he of anyone would find it without getting lost. We made it there without much event, and pulled into a Starbucks to sit and have coffee before he dropped me off. But it was like 5 a.m. and it was still closed. He made some comment about it opening later on the weekends.
He pulled out of the parking lot and I remember thinking that he was disappointed because now we didn't really have a place to sit and talk. As we pulled into the check-in area, he helped me with my bags but told me he'd meet me inside because he had to park the truck. So I waited for him in the doorway. After all my bags were taken care of, he took my hand. It was just normal or something. Everything was still closed, but we went to sit in the sitting area for the McDonald's. I remember he sat across from me and held my hand the whole time we sat there. I don't really remember what we talked about, but I remember watching him watch his hand and mine, and I remember thinking my hands were ugly and square compared to his long, slender fingers. I wish I could remember what we said, but I really only see images of him across from me.
So, he walked me to the security check-in, where he couldn't go after that. We faced each other to say goodbye and he reached down to give me a kiss. Ha. I remember laughing at his cockiness to think he really was going to get a kiss goodbye even though we weren't dating or really even talking before a week prior. But again, it just seemed normal. So I kinda brushed my mouth with his, teasing him. "Really, you're gonna..." was all he said before I decidedly kissed him. I didn't even feel silly about kissing in public and even remember that I pulled him closer with my right hand on his back.
It was a great kiss. Ha. And I'm not even saying that because it was one of the last moments I had with him. But it was. It had no awkward sloppiness of a first kiss with a new love. But it had still the feeling of your stomach dropping in excitement. Strange. Then I vaguely remember him saying that I should just stay here for the holidays. I could stay with his Mom and Jack, they'd love to have me. And I remember loving the sweetness of the idea, but I'm not proud to admit that the first hesitation I had was to do with the stupid plane ticket. Ha. So lame.
At some point we let go and I walked through security and boarded the plane, but I don't remember much about it. I think we texted each other at least 40 times before I made it to my house. I went directly to sleep when I got home and remember that I woke up to him lamenting that I hadn't stayed. It was a sweet awakening.
And that was the last time I saw him. I think I like this memory because it was such a perfect picture of the simple plainness of us together that always managed to get confused with these stupid arguments and ultimatums that put us in different corners of the ring.
And so I'll keep it here.
He knew I was in Dallas before I was going to leave for the holidays, but I was so screwy about him that I wanted to see him, but didn't want to admit it, so I so kindly offered him the chance to take me to the airport at the crack of dawn the next morning. And so, at 4:30 a.m., or some unholy time of the morning, he knocked on Anne's door to take me. I remember I wrote Anne a note because I wasn't going to wake her that said, "It's 4:30 a.m. and I have a full face of make up on and my hair is done. What's wrong with me?" Ha...and so I answered the door fresh-faced and ready in the darkness of the December early morning.
He was dressed in torn jeans and some baggy t-shirt with a John Deer hat, and his hair was curly and long underneath. I remember laughing to myself because his style of late was so trendy that it must have taken hours to meticulously create each outfit: euro hairstyle, hair gel, expensive jeans and abnormal amounts of stupid accessories of some kind. But standing there in front of me now, he looked so unkempt, so.. normal. It's ironic that the last time I saw him he reminded me so much of the first time we met: torn jeans, Abercrombie shirt, hair long and curly on the ends.
I remember Anne came down with me to answer the door and he said hello politely, aware that she wasn't his biggest fan. Then he hoisted my huge suitcase and guitar over the side of his truck without a struggle, which was so strange because he was always so damn skinny and looked like he could blow over at any moment. We talked about how he had stayed up all night because they had gotten in so late, and everyone had eaten mushrooms but he hadn't. Right off the bat he joked that he had never gotten goodbye kiss at the airport and was looking forward to it. I laughed and said, "Oh, are you!?" teasingly.
I remember he didn't know exactly how to get to Love Field airport. But I remember that I was uncharacteristically laid back about getting there, only because I knew that he of anyone would find it without getting lost. We made it there without much event, and pulled into a Starbucks to sit and have coffee before he dropped me off. But it was like 5 a.m. and it was still closed. He made some comment about it opening later on the weekends.
He pulled out of the parking lot and I remember thinking that he was disappointed because now we didn't really have a place to sit and talk. As we pulled into the check-in area, he helped me with my bags but told me he'd meet me inside because he had to park the truck. So I waited for him in the doorway. After all my bags were taken care of, he took my hand. It was just normal or something. Everything was still closed, but we went to sit in the sitting area for the McDonald's. I remember he sat across from me and held my hand the whole time we sat there. I don't really remember what we talked about, but I remember watching him watch his hand and mine, and I remember thinking my hands were ugly and square compared to his long, slender fingers. I wish I could remember what we said, but I really only see images of him across from me.
So, he walked me to the security check-in, where he couldn't go after that. We faced each other to say goodbye and he reached down to give me a kiss. Ha. I remember laughing at his cockiness to think he really was going to get a kiss goodbye even though we weren't dating or really even talking before a week prior. But again, it just seemed normal. So I kinda brushed my mouth with his, teasing him. "Really, you're gonna..." was all he said before I decidedly kissed him. I didn't even feel silly about kissing in public and even remember that I pulled him closer with my right hand on his back.
It was a great kiss. Ha. And I'm not even saying that because it was one of the last moments I had with him. But it was. It had no awkward sloppiness of a first kiss with a new love. But it had still the feeling of your stomach dropping in excitement. Strange. Then I vaguely remember him saying that I should just stay here for the holidays. I could stay with his Mom and Jack, they'd love to have me. And I remember loving the sweetness of the idea, but I'm not proud to admit that the first hesitation I had was to do with the stupid plane ticket. Ha. So lame.
At some point we let go and I walked through security and boarded the plane, but I don't remember much about it. I think we texted each other at least 40 times before I made it to my house. I went directly to sleep when I got home and remember that I woke up to him lamenting that I hadn't stayed. It was a sweet awakening.
And that was the last time I saw him. I think I like this memory because it was such a perfect picture of the simple plainness of us together that always managed to get confused with these stupid arguments and ultimatums that put us in different corners of the ring.
And so I'll keep it here.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
grace
She's pretty much grown now. Not much of the 'little girlness' is really left, especially with those damn vivacious curves. Lord knows she looks older than me. As we sat at lunch today, I noticed a few of those little awkward things that are becoming of a little girl not a woman, leaving just a linger of childhood.
She doesn't say "Bread Company Co," (because she didn't know that "Co" was short for company.) She doesn't mispronounce much anymore. She wears makeup.
To her much wiser, older sister, Gracie will probably still be 4-years-old until she busts me in the nose with her adulthood. Until then, I think I'll still enjoy the little awkwardness. I like how she trumps around the house, not knowing yet how to balance her thickening hips with the childish excitement of her task. I like that as she sat at lunch today, her shapely legs moved awkwardly in her skirt and flashed a bit of pink, flowery underwear. The consciousness of her femininity hasn't yet overtaken every movement of her body to leave her aware of awkwardly spread legs. I like her braces.
She wrote me a note before I left for YWAM and her words were this perfect blend of child and adult. "Carpe Deium!" she wrote. "That means 'seize the day,'" she added as an aside for me if I hadn't known. Her note was this strange thing I could touch and hold in my hands of her waning childishness.
Sure she's discovered how cute she is -- and how boys have discovered it too -- but it seems innocent. She loves life, friends, clothes, and all that comes with her upcoming womanhood. I love to watch her discover the ups and downs of being grown. Her desire for independence still flashes in angry, dramatic outbursts that are usually scripted eerily similar to whatever 'coming of age' movie she saw recently. But she's still discovering.
So, I'm praying that she'll discover safely. I pray that God would cover her from the ugliness of eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. I mean, I know she has to grow up. But, I just pray that He would cover her gracefully as she steps out. I hope she doesn't struggle with the same stuff I did, and that her beauty stills itself beneath her skin.
I hope she grows in grace.
She doesn't say "Bread Company Co," (because she didn't know that "Co" was short for company.) She doesn't mispronounce much anymore. She wears makeup.
To her much wiser, older sister, Gracie will probably still be 4-years-old until she busts me in the nose with her adulthood. Until then, I think I'll still enjoy the little awkwardness. I like how she trumps around the house, not knowing yet how to balance her thickening hips with the childish excitement of her task. I like that as she sat at lunch today, her shapely legs moved awkwardly in her skirt and flashed a bit of pink, flowery underwear. The consciousness of her femininity hasn't yet overtaken every movement of her body to leave her aware of awkwardly spread legs. I like her braces.
She wrote me a note before I left for YWAM and her words were this perfect blend of child and adult. "Carpe Deium!" she wrote. "That means 'seize the day,'" she added as an aside for me if I hadn't known. Her note was this strange thing I could touch and hold in my hands of her waning childishness.
Sure she's discovered how cute she is -- and how boys have discovered it too -- but it seems innocent. She loves life, friends, clothes, and all that comes with her upcoming womanhood. I love to watch her discover the ups and downs of being grown. Her desire for independence still flashes in angry, dramatic outbursts that are usually scripted eerily similar to whatever 'coming of age' movie she saw recently. But she's still discovering.
So, I'm praying that she'll discover safely. I pray that God would cover her from the ugliness of eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. I mean, I know she has to grow up. But, I just pray that He would cover her gracefully as she steps out. I hope she doesn't struggle with the same stuff I did, and that her beauty stills itself beneath her skin.
I hope she grows in grace.
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