Friday, March 25, 2011

violent ends

the violence of violets

the softness of a stone;

a plethera of passion
and joy in being alone

the subtlety of the sun
dawning on disease;
the warmness of gray days
on softly storming seas

renaissance of raindrops

the drowning of delight;
violent ends to violins
darkness hides in light


In solitude I find Thee
Quiet moments meant for me
Sun reflecting pink and blue
Bright yellow orange in hue
Silent blowing of the wind
Creates in me a bend
A crease of change upon blank page
Reminds that 'all the world's a stage'
Each stroke, detailed movement
Revolves around improvement
I step, stumble, leap, diverge
Varied courses converge
Create life built in time
Choices, chances, chaos, rhyme
Woven with butterfly effect
So magnificently imperfect
Laid at the feet of the One
Who's love made me come undone

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Where are you choosing to live?

My Bible study this week has been all about true perspective. I should be living my life from a God's-eye view; instead though, most of the time, I choose to spend my life from a man's-eye view.
That's like God allowing you to come reside in His beautiful mountain top mansion and spending all of your time in the bassement complaining about how you can't see anything. Get out of the basement! God has released us from the prison of our feeble minds, He has unlocked the door! He invites us to come up into His house and claim what is, as heirs, rightly ours!
Our Father has given us a beautiful mansion with the most breathtaking view in the Universe! Allow Him to show you things from His perspective; view all your life, all your trials, your joys, your relationships, dissapointments, apprehensions, anxieties, loss, lonliness, desires...weigh them against the eternity that God has gifted you. John Henry Jowett says "That we are to lie forever with the Lord is a prospect that should fill our life with quiet and fruitful amazement. To have that life in front of us will enable us to set all things in true perspective and to observe their true proportions."
Lord, for so long I've allowed myself to live inside these walls for fear of what was outside them. But while I may be missing all the pain and disappointment, all the risk and challenge...these things are temporary. I am also missing out on the eternal: the joy and hopeful expectancy, all the reward! 
Peeking through the small window of salvation that I built in my walls of confinement,  barely seeing the view that you've given me, was never your intention. Instead, I am to open the door that You have unlocked, climb the many stairs to the very top of Your mansion, stand by Your side as rightful heir and enjoy all the benefits of being a child of God! I am to take in and enjoy the breathtaking view of Our Father; see all as He sees it.

2 Corinthians 5:17 in the Amplified Bible says, "Therefore if any person is [ingrafted] in Christ (the Messiah) he is a new creation (a new creature altogether); the old [previous moral and spiritual condition] has passed away. Behold, the fresh and new has come!" What man then, after being changed completely, after seeing all that God has to offer, would return to that dusty little basement window? What man, cured of eternal blindness, would wish himself unaltered? What mother after giving birth would ask that it be returned to her womb?
We cannot unlearn things, we cannot unsee them! Once God has revealed Himself to us, allowed us to see all His glory, we are then held to a higher standard. We are to live according to the knowledge that we have received. Kay Arthur states, "God doesn't tell us to work for our salvation; He tells us to work out our salvation. We are to carry out to completion that which God works in fall short of the grace of God is for you to fail to appropriate all that God has for you!" We have a responsibility to live a life full of joy, love, peace, patience, humbleness, kindness and hope! These are attributes of God himself! It is not a responsibility for us to fulfill, out of our own sinfullness and tainted hearts; "these, then, are some of the hopes kindled and inspired by Jesus Christ our Lord. What He kindles He will keep burning(John Henry Jowett)." "Consequently, when it comes to a life of obedience and service, even the desire and the power to obey and to serve God come from Him...Our motivation to live for Him comes from Him. And our ability to do what He desires comes from Him. It is all of grace (Kay Arthur)!"

Lord, I thank you that this study has served as a catalyst for change. I feel my heart and my mind turning slowly away from their prvious focus, turning to You. Help me not forget the truths I've learned but to hold them in my heart and use them often.
You are life abundant.
You are freedom.
You are deep, passionate love.
You are true perspective.
You are hope.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Words of Wisdom

"(In) Mandarin Chinese ling xiu (leeng SHE-oo) refers to a Christian's daily devotional time. Ling means 'spirit' or 'soul.' Xiu means 'to repair.' In my notes I wrote 'devotional=spirit repair.' What a fitting way to describe our devotional time: repairing the soul by reading God's word and communing with Him."
                   - anonymous imdb missionary in China

Friday, March 11, 2011

"Sadness is a wall between two gardens." - kahlil gibran

Indian Food

Here's an awesome website I found for beginners to learn all about Indian Food:

This lady is pretty awesome! She has even included instructional videos for us visual learners who need a step by step approach.

I'm excited to try some of these out!

Jesus is Victor!

Jesus is victor! In all things.
He knows my name, I am precious to Him.
When in sickness and sorrow, 
in anxiety and suffering,
where there are special trials,
even when we are asked to walk through the valley of shadow...
GOD is with us!
The shepherd is able to protect the sheep
in times of danger.
The shadows are as much a part of God's path for us
as the green pastures
and often it is in the valley where 
the making of a man or woman of God occurs.
During these times,
He will provide a way of escape
He will provide healing counsel
so that we may also do these things for others.
You see, we as believers
should be able to live carefree before God
knowing that He is most careful with the things He loves.
To lean on Jesus in the darkest hour
is light and joy and peace.
We must remember
there is more than one way 
for God to be vicorious!

*a compilation of many writings from Corrie Ten Boom, Catherine Martin, F.B. Meyer, The Message, Henry Law, and Me 

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Sunset at Sea

Geometric Structures

in squares we live our lives
we live our lives in squares
always lacking
we live our lives in squares

in circles we live our lives
we live our lives in circles
never winning
we live our lives in circles

in lines we live our lives
we live our lives in lines
never slowing
we live our lives in lines

squares and circles
circles and squares
lines and lines
of lines and lies

we live our lives in shapes
in shapes we live our lies
we stack
we stack     we always lack
we spin
we spin     we never win
we go
we go     we never slow

but still we live our lies

Part of a Whole

my life is a song
with melodies and rhythms
harmonies and themes
crescendos and rests
something composed
by a conductor 
with far superior
views than my own

i play my part
i sing the song
but like the greatest
works, i am but a piece
in a puzzle
a brush stroke on
a canvas 
a ripple in
the sea of creativity

what i do
has been done before
will be done again
by far better
than i could ever
dream to be

but despite the
knowledge of all
that i cannot be
i choose to use
that which i cannot
help to be
namely me
for all that i'm worth
my two cents

Ash Wednesday by T S Eliot

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to satiety
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,
Under a tree in the cool of the day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jagged, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an aged shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair,
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy
but speak the word only.

Who walked between the violet and the violet
Who walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew
And after this our exile 

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people.

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth This is the time of tension between dying and birth The place of solitude where three dreams cross Between blue rocks But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

The Potter's Hands

Perhaps some of those who seem to have more than their share of suffering and disappointment are, like costly china, being doubly tried in the fire, that they may be more valuable in the Master's service.
The potter never sees his clay take on rich shades of silver or red, or cream, or brown, or yellow, until after the darkness of the burning of the furnace. These colors come -- after the burning and darkness.  The clay is beautiful -- after the burning and darkness.
How universal is this law of life! Where did the bravest man and the purest woman you know get their whitened characters? Did they not get them as the clay gets its beauty -- after the darkness and the burning of the furnace?
Where did Savonarola get his eloquence?
It came from God, and so is Christ true, and Christ is thy God, who is in heaven and awaits thee.
Girolamo Savonarola
Where did Stradavari get his violins?
Where did Titian get his color?
Where did Michelangelo his marble?
Where did Mozart get his music?
Chatterton his poetry?
Jeremiah his sermons?

They got them where the clay gets its glory and its shimmer -- in the darkness and the burning of the furnace.
                          - Mrs. Charles Cowman in Springs in the Valley

This passage is so uplifting, so inspring. It makes me wonder what can be said of each of us...what gifts has God bestowed upon you through trials of fire to display His glory?
Where did Ruth get her writing and insight?
Where did Claudia get her artist's touch?
Where did Maura get her passion?
Where did Paige get her dramatics?
Where do Joseph's words and abstract thoughts come from?
Where did Gina get her sweet spirit of joy?
Where did Mary get her practical wisdom?
Where did Russ get his devotion?
Where did Lindsey get her steadfastness?
Where did Peter get his inquisitiveness and love of knowledge?
Where did David get his patience and understanding?
Where did Shannon get her leadership and courage?
All these things, all of them came from the creator of the universe, the creator of us all, from the potter's hand. And each of us in our own uniqueness are able to display His glory and splendor in such different ways. I pray that we can all see ourselves as the potter sees us -- His beautiful, wonderful creations. We are treasured. We are loved. We were made to be exactly as He wanted. Let us not throw that aside, let us not forget the simple truth that we are His.

The Keeper of Promises

When I am lonely, You are there to hold.
When I build walls, You tear them down.
When all the world fails me, You are true.
When the road I walk is shifting sand, You are firm ground.
When I am lost, You search and find me.
When I hide, You seek.
When I thrist, You alone can satisfy.
When I cower in fear, You are the lifter of my head.
When I am defenseless, You are my shield.
When I hunger so deeply, You are my portion.
When my anger boils, You are my peace.
When I am overwhelmed, You say, "Come to Me."
When I want to run, You say, "Be still.
                                                  Be still and know that I am God."

Outpouring to My God

Lord, so often I come to You as a last resort, as a back-up plan when all my efforts fail.
Why do I put the Creator of the universe in such a powerless position?
I am so obstinate, prideful to think that I am capable of handling things better than You could.
Lord, help my ignorance, help my pride, help my sense of unworthiness, help me to remember that I am a chosen child of God, that you hand-picked me for who I am and what I have to offer.
Help me to realize that I am a sacred treasure of the kingdom of God; not so that I may flaunt or find glory, but that I may finally find who You created me to be...
before the poison of this world infected me,
before my compass was turned upside down,
before all the pain, before the hurt, before the betrayals, before the loss,
before all the lies that I so readily and willingly believe.

Help me to see the truth of who I am in You: my home, my dwelling place, where I belong.
Help me to leave behind here, high in the mountains, all the doubt, fear, self-hatered, lonliness, emptiness;
help me leave behind the loud voice of all the things that haunt me.
Lord, turn me from what comes naturally to me.
Lonliness can be so powerful at times Lord, the utter despair of feeling unknown can seem to be unconquerable.
Please help my unbelief, help my misunderstandings, my distrust, my simple insecurities, my doubt.
Turn my eyes Lord so that I may look full upon Your glory and through the discernment of Your spirit allow me to finally see truth.
Seal me for Your kingdom...
shut out the anger, the fear, the anxious longings of the little girl that I still am.

Thank you for using this week, this time of trial and uncertainty,
the creeping up of all the things I thought I had already conquered on my own,
to recreate that thirst in my soul, that elemental longing for what only You can satisfy in me.
Open my heart to the possibility that I am finally ready to let go of all my endless needs.
Help me realize that You are bigger than the depth of those needs,
You are bigger than the ocean of lies that has filled my head.


swiftly softly
meekly mightily
rightly wrongly
lamely longingly
justly jauntily
fitfully fervently
simply sizably
probably privately
normally neurotically
ornately ominously
blatantly brazenly

Circadian Rhythms

a little piece of
a little peace
it seems
it seams
it sews
it sows
and grows
from our
from hour
to hour

Why is it?

Why is it that I do my most profound, deep and inspiring thinking while I'm so sleepy I feel drugged or I'm standing in the shower (obviously sans pen and paper...or computer)???

I think I've come to realize that it's because it's where I'm most vulnerable.

Reflecting back on my life, I have built so many internal walls that at times I feel immobile. I push people away. I push feelings down. I doubt my every decision, every thought, every action. For so long, I lived in a state of constant fear. And while I am no longer paralyzed by fear, having found freedom in Christ, I still struggle, every day with that other me.

So, in a state of exhaustion, I am stripped of all mental barriers.
In the shower, I am stripped of all physical barriers.
I am only me.
And the freedom of not boxing myself in, not allowing me to get in the way of me, enables my thoughts to unravel...enables my mind to stretch out....enables my feelings to expand into worlds of words.

But there's a problem.
I have to sleep, I have to dress, I have to live.
So insomnia becomes my friend,
Showers a place to escape inside,
and each day I work so hard at letting myself just be.

A Note From God

Thank Me for the conditions that are requiring you to be still. Do not spoil these quiet hours by wishing them away, waiting impatiently to be active again. Some of the greatest works in My Kingdom have been done from sick beds and prison cells. Instead of resenting the limitations of a weakened body, search for My way in the midst of these very circumstances. Limitations can be liberating when your strongest desire is living close to Me.

Quietness and trust enhance your awareness of My Presence with you. Do not despise these simple ways of serving Me. Although you feel cut off from activity of the world, your quiet trust makes a powerful statement in spiritual realms. My Strength and Power show themselves most effective in weakness. - Zech 2:13; Isaiah 3:15; 2 Cor 12:9
 Love, GOD

Oh I Must

Oh to speak of your sweet name
And look upon your face
'Tis my privilege and my pain
To be tempted by such grace

The sweet nectar of your lips
Entices me to tears
My heart, as it were, does rip
In two when you're not near

When your body, close to mine
Love does mix with lust
Your lips, the color of wine
And kiss you, oh I must

Please tell me how my desire
Came to be so strong
And why I would walk the wire
To beckon you along

I am both blessed and cursed,
Only you possess the cure
So kiss and quench this thirst
Let our love be pure

This longing soon will pass
With each touch of your soft skin
Each kiss shall simply last
And let me fall again

Parallel Paradise

Broken mirrors
Produce shattered images
Of the life I once knew.
Maybe I didn't love it
But at least it was familiar.

Love-stained pieces of memory
Fall far from the tree
I planted in the backyard.

Wrap-around porch,
Knots in the wood,
Creaking front door,
Rusty hinge.

Thirteen steps down
Exactly fourteen steps up;
Always more leading up.

The second window,
To the right,
Shows my reflection
     not quite clear
With all the dust that's gathered
Through the years.

A single tear falls from
What used to be my face
A trail of white
Pierces the dirty background.

I jump backwords,
With all my might,
     over the railing,
Across the freshly cut weeds,
Straight onto the
Splintered, white picket fence.

Missing Pieces

Colors fading into a darkened background
Stars of laughter quickly covered by
Clouds of corruption
Confusion sets in, lets nothing be
Fire of wrath breathes deep in the hearts of
Human desire
Shutup the noise that drowns out the brightness
Covering it all with sands of sadness
Buried in dunes
Rhapsody of the thoughts left behind
Swing gently through the mind
Knowing things cannot change
Feign that life is peaches and ice cream
Lick it all up till it's gone from
The bottomless pit
Fit together the pieces of the poundcake puzzle
The picture it shows
     with holes and all
          is you.


When a door closes, who's to say
That whence it opens you shall see the same?

If the star you wish upon flickers out
Will your dreams die as well?

If the sun set yet did not rise,
Would there ever be a tomorrow?

And if you say you love me, yet hurt me still,
Am I to believe words or actions?

See, riddles of the mind can never quite be solved -
For who is to say what is on the outside of each door,
That each day brings a dawn,
Or that dreams will never die?

But ah, riddles of the heart, those are not to baffle
Only to let the weak be strong
And the lonely be loved.

A Proposition

If I dance for you,
Sing you soft melodies,
Will you lay with me
In this bed of dreams
And stay with me until
The awakening of eternity?
Will you take me to quiet places
And shadows of yesterday
Until You and I
Are no longer?
Will you rest with me
In this neverending solitude
Until the blue skies turn
To starless nights?

And when morning breaks
Will you take me again
To secret places
And thank me with your kisses,
Love me with your strong hands,
Feel me with your mind,
Touch me with your eyes?

Now lovely is only what
I used to be --
Now you've made me more
Than just beautiful...
You've made me yours.

I've been thinking...

Here lately I've been thinking (probably a little too much for my own good, lol). For a long time I wrote poetry and kept journals of my thoughts...well, more like mindless drivel, lol. I must confess that I have not kept up this habit over the years as I should have. Between marriage, motherhood and a lot of other things, I found that the part of me that created all these things was lost.

Recently, I have become reacquainted with my lost passions. I attribute this rediscovery to a lot of things...I am in a good place, comfortable with who I am again; some dear friends Ruth and Claudia have helped me to remember that I am an artist at heart; I've begun to read The Heart of the Artist again and this time it's making sense to me, it's speaking to me; and lastly, a young man by the name of Joseph, whom I've recently come to know, has inspired me to be open about who I am as an artist. Why shouldn't others know that I love to write? Why shouldn't they come to know me through my poetry and my creations? For so long I've been fearful of allowing others to see this secret side of me, afraid of what they might find. But I've come to realize that it's just an excuse, another wall of "protection" I've built...but with the safety of keeping people at a distant comes the loneliness of being unknown.

So, for those of you who have read this far, you must care a little about what I have to say or who I am and so to you, my dear friends, I issue you a challenge. I will be posting things occassionaly and I urge you to read and comment about what I have to say. Please. Whether you agree with me or disagree with me, that's not my point....but I ask you to listen, ask questions of me, challenge my thoughts and feelings, challenge who I am.