Crash

Today was Karma's Birthday. I have this recurring dream that we are walking in the sunlight at somewhere and some when holding a deep conversation about God's glory I have yet to see and of the angels I have yet to hear sing. I dreamed this dream today in the early morning hours. I tell her how much I miss her but that its all right because I'm sure heaven is too beautiful for her to miss too many minutes of.

Today I'm not sad instead I can only think of hallelujahs for the friend that she was. I can only be thankful for the what I have's rather than the what I have not's. I keep thinking about that day in the bookstore as we sat in leather chairs and cradled our coffee cups. I read her a few scattered pages of my poetry. She said I was too gifted and blessed not to be a writer. She said I needed to start writing books and after that day I did start writing one. I just wanted to see if I could . When I had finished it two years later she was not surprised. And whenever I wanted to give up and stop writing she would say "This gift God has given you its not going anywhere this is standard for your life. It's a blessing and it's just who you are. God is only going to heal you and breathe more life into you and then what are you going to do?"

I thought my dream had burned up like cinder. I was too tired then. But..I think I am a foolish phoenix. Today, I want to pluck my dream down as if it were a ripe peach. Today, I want to crash into God and let the crescendo of his love ripple back to me.

Trees and Paradise

Yesterday,

I took my sketch book and a newly sharpened pencil and tried my hand at drawing. I do occasionally make the attempt. I found a shaded tree as subject matter. All the while thinking that its roots looked like knotted bones resting on the earth. The tree was beautiful. My sketch was not. But it made me undone this one little poetic thought. God had designed me to think and view the world in this way. It gives him joy when I play upon my words.

Lately, I've wanted to do nothing but grow deeper into God as much as I know how. I've had this hunger to read the bible and books about Jesus. I read the entire book of Proverbs yesterday. I want to read it again and again and again. I've started reading Knowing God by J.I. Packer. It's a great comfort being reminded of God's character. In an earlier post I've said that I've been trying to escape what I am. I feel so intensely at times that it can be tiring. And now I'm starting to realize in God my depth of emotion is not some sort of twisted defect or a joke that also went terribly flat. If I stare into God's face long enough I will find in his eyes staring back at me the security I had lost. A version of myself I can live with and be free and love. A version of myself that is more true than I know because God knows me better than I do. He knows what I will do and say and feel and think even before I've lived it all out. And its been good to be reminded that God doesn't forget. It's impossible for him to forget. And so it is impossible for me to be forgotten.

Measurements

Father, I belong to you.

A simple statement I find incredibly powerful.

I've prayed it every day this week and a peace falls into my unbalanced heart whenever I do. It makes me rest. In the end you belong and you belong to God. I weep or fail or fall all the while I'm being held by God. I get this picture in the eye of my mind of a fireman saving a child's life in the face of smoke and affliction. A face smeared by ash, lungs choking and then a body silent with head spilled backward while being held in the arms of their rescuer. Breathe child just take a breath. Eyes flashing to life while sirens wail in the street. Jesus this is a medical emergency. We need a rescue. Our father who art in heaven, give me this day.

The fact is every day our bodies are breaking down and dying. No matter how hard we try and fight growing old. But I don't mind growing old. I want to grow old gracefully. I want to grow in measurements I can't measure. I want to take another risk and love when its least expected. And even though I know the building is burning down to the ground it will be new again some day.

Path

My mother wanted to be an artist when she was young. She can draw well. But she rarely uses this gift or has the passion for it. She ended up becoming a nurse instead and she is gifted in this profession. My mother is practical but not what I would call a romantic. She is adventurous and kind and very, very funny. So I often forget that she wanted to be an artist. I was wondering the other day what were the things my mother and I had in common. I am very much the romantic in every sense of the word. But my friend called me and had just finished having lunch with my mother. She said that we were so similar with the way we spoke with our hands and the inflections in our ruddy voices. My mother has a wonderful up roaring laugh while mine is a more quiet chuckling when amused or a silent wail when I'm enjoying some portion of the comedy of life. Secretly, I've mesmerized my mother's hands. Small freckled hands with delicate palms.

My father always wanted to be an engineer when he was young. He still is one. The trajectory of his passion never wondered an iota. He can fix anything mechanical and has the memory of an elephant. Although, he is whom I would call the romantic though I would never admit it to him. An avid reader. One of his favorite quotes to me is "Life is often stranger than Fiction." I often find him reading history or biographies and well written works of fiction. Lately, we've been exchanging books through the mail. He used to play the cello in college. He loved taking me to the symphony, the ballet and the theater.

And here I am their romantic, romantic child who still loves words and daffodils.

Ragamuffin

I've just finished reading Brennan Manning's book "the furious longing of God". It made my soul sing. Manning the ragamuffin theologin his words made me feel not so lonely. And I've been too sad and tired with Karma gone to want to be creative at least until now. And its been silly because I've tried to purge my creativity from myself or hide it away because of an unsual longing to be understood. But God has always understood. And I find a reveling joy in poetry and art and music. I want to trade my fear and trembling in for peaceful abiding. I find that God talks more often to us than we realize. It's a matter of listening. On being ready to really, really listen. I found it odd that God gave me a word for someone who had been counseling me for over a year. I found it odd that sunday's message was on the power of God working through story. I also found it odd that they asked for people who beleived that they were called to speak about Jesus to every corner of the world. I am not a missionary but I felt lead to come and recieve prayer. The Holy Spirit fell on me and I swayed once trying not to fall. Usually the invitations for prayer at the end of the service are just not for me. This heart its wide open.

Manifesto

I think a part of me has forgotten the equation of God. I read these little pieces of my heart written down here and its some sort of beautiful madness. I have a ridiculous love for alliteration for one thing. I have a rhythm to my soul that's deeper than a muddy river and sad and solidly sweet all at once like honey dripping off a too salty twisted pretzel. And I wonder what is God gonna do with all this inside of me? I am dramatic and dynamic and I want to be a Michelangelo? What? Really? Ahh broken jealous, prideful heart. I imagine God laughing at me at this point. A gentle breath of God coming to me like in the book of Job first the earthquake and then the whisper of God. Good thing he still calls me friend. I filled with the want and chase of earthly desires and at the same time with the want of God. It becomes a merry merry go round. So here is my manifesto:

I will choose God even if it breaks my upside down heart.
I will trust God. Again. And Again.
I will wait on God. Again. And Again.
I will love. Again. And Again.
I will begin to believe every part of me was made for a purpose.
I will let God rule my creativity instead of it ruling me.
I will not give up. Even when I fail. Again. And Again.
I will laugh more.
I will be more thankful.
I will not let fear move me.
I will live up to my inheritance in God and light up the sky like a star.
I will sing.
I will write only when I feel inspired too and am able to pour my whole heart and joy into the work. I will believe that God is in whatever I'm working on.

Michelangelo

Whenever I'm as still as I can be in this world...I just keep hearing God only ever say one little line to me over and over and he's been saying it for the past 2 years. That I'll be better than I ever was. And this is the hard part. He never did say when. If you knew me well enough you'd know I have little patience and yet I find myself in the position of always waiting. Inside I feel irritable that God didn't make me a Michelangelo. A great heart and passion for the love of beauty anywhere I can find it on earth or in heaven but unable to express it as I wish to when I actually know it. I suppose when you've seen angels things can become complicated. Michelangelo used to pray that God would grant him the ability to do more than he thought he could accomplish just so he could try and accomplish it. A man with the patience of Job. In the last few years I've traveled a mountain of a road. The loss of Karma has terribly saddened my soul among other things. How can I ever be better than I ever was? But I Know I've made some progress. I've been told don't mock the process of things. But I don't want to walk I want to run. I get so tired of my somber moods and irritability when Christ's kingdom has come. The things I know in my head usually do not light up my heart. But hearts are much like the weather you'll find the tempest and sunny skies all within the same day. I pray that God draws near me because I find at times I'm still running away. I want to run or complain or be sad or laugh or rest anything at all but be creative. Anything at all but use my gift and let my words collide upon paper. So I pray as often as I can that Christ takes hold of me. He is the only one that can.