Deep Calls

The old man stood in the shadows, leaning on the doorway, letting it bear his weight. He gazed at his wife as she sat in a corner of a now dark room. She held a small boy in her lap; she hummed and stroked his hair. "Is she going to be alright? "Oh Anna! You have come again. Thank you. I do not know...I do not know...will any of us be alright? She sits and rocks him -- will not put him down. The first nights she slept by his bed ~ when she slept. This is a nightmare -- thank you, my friend, for coming. I could not leave her without knowing you were with her and John." "Such a child. See, he sits so still in her lap. It is like he ... knows. As long as you need me, I will come. But I have thought, in this grief we can rejoice...they did not come to your door." "Simeon thinks he would not dare to touch the son of a High Priest ~ I wonder if the monster even knew of us and our son ...and ... and ... I am grateful, so very grateful! God be praised they...

"Alexi !!!  Here you are! When you were late to dinner ... again ... I finally came looking. I must say Sari is annoyed. She made lamb ~  Reading the old scrolls again Alexi...?" Looking up as if coming from a long way off and just now noticing his friend, "Ah Beltzi. . . .OH DINNER !!  I am sorry. I just meant to stop by for just a moment. Ahhh...its dark.!  Oh, I am so sorry! Come, is it too late? May we stop on the way? I must bring a gift to Sari to apologize." " ... and then the camels spit, right on the bundles ~ Alexi, are you even listening? Where are you? What has come over you lately?" "It is the scrolls, the old ones ... " "The scrolls? Again the scrolls? I love study as much as the next man, and I always thought MORE than you until ... what is it?" "I don't know, I swear they haunt me! I ... dream of them, no, don't laugh ~ I do! I think of them all day and find no peace till I go and read them. I m...

Pain subsiding, breathing out, she opened her eyes and looked into his. They were dark with concern, stormy with his fear for her, and for the baby. His jaw set. "No, Joseph. I am OK. They are  ~ not close." Turning his hand, and holding it to her belly, "There! See, he kicks and plays. See, we are fine." A solid smack hit squarely on Joseph's hand, making them both laugh. As she readjusted her seating, Joseph gripped the lead and lengthened his stride. "Not long now. We will be there before the nightfall. Then a room and a bed .... " She saw beyond the smile he gave with his mouth to the storm in his eyes. Oh, he has more to carry than I. She remembered their story in flashes : The first time she saw him, setting down a load of wood, to lift a child from the dust where she had fallen, his voice tender, his eyes soft. The first time she caught his eyes. She had looked up from the well into his eyes. The world had stopped. Her breath had stopped...

In morning light she stood. She had been there a while, rising in the dark to see the sun begin the day. Her thoughts had been of bread to knead, and floors to sweep, and Joseph.  Closing her eyes, she swayed into the memory... Joseph coming and talking long with her father. His hands rough and strong, his eyes somber then. She had never seen them like that: dark, intense. In fact it was his eyes she knew best, his eyes that laughed, that sparkled in merriment, his eyes that strayed to children at play as he worked. She could not hear the words, just the voices of her father and Joseph. And then her father nodded and Joseph had turned ~ and she had caught her breath as Joseph caught her eyes . The agreement made, they were espoused. She still trembled at the thought. And soon ... Now he took every free moment to build their home so he could take her home to be  ~  his wife . Even in her thoughts she whispered the ...

Memories of my trip are tabbed in color: Flying into North Carolina I was instantly mesmerized by the variegated forest I watched...almost like it was a movie...from the plane's window. North Carolina isn't a place "with lots of trees" to me ~ it is a forest, a strong community of trees that grudgingly gives bits of land to people for houses and businesses. When you see, for example, the L.A. basin, all you see is building : houses, stores, high-rises. Not in NC. You see trees ~ swaths of them, clumps of them, rivers of them, trees lining streets, trees en-sieging (1) houses. On this trip it was not GREEN, GREEN, GREEN, that filled my view, but rust and red and orange and yellow and brown. I caught my breath letting my eyes absorb the memory. My kids told me, sheepishly, that I should have been there the week before. It was a differnt landscape for now, they said, all the leaves were nearly gone. I am not sorry for my timing. I can't know what I missed, but I ...

He would be 18      ~   tomorrow and it seems both like yesterday and like forever and never ago all at once. His name is Evan Daniel and he lived for 8 months hidden and kind-of alone with me      and then for just 10 minutes  and one breath                     18 years and a day ago. and now he lives with Jesus where it is forever and now  -- forever. And he waits for me. It was such a hard thing. One of those things that really should never happen. You are not supposed to loose and bury your children, your babies. You are not supposed to dedicate them when they are already actually and really in Jesus' arms. But we did. I didn't think, even then that it would kill me. What I wanted, though, was to fall, like Alice down the rabbit hole, but into darkness and keep falling for ever, and pull the darkness over my head a...

 a new washed world. It rained this weekend and now the trees look fresh scrubbed. The trees that line the street ... the autumn ones ... look like Jesus walked by and lovingly ran a caressing hand down one side, and left the them blushing. This morning as the sun hits the leaves they sparkle. Now the sky is blue and the air is crisp. I love it when the air is cold, but the sun shines on your face.

and I also like ~ the scent of freshly crunched, Autumn leaves. great poetry reading C. S. Lewis the first sip of the first cup of coffee in the morning listening to my kids talk and laugh with each other my children's wonderful insights -- they are so much more clever, so much smarter than I am cranberry red  left over pumpkin pie -- for breakfast stores that sell kitchen stuff Robin McKinley books, and nearly ANYTHING Jane Yolen writes great music ... especially if the lyrics are real poetry, not just words that go with music the scent of red roses ... to be continued

My oldest daughter turned 30. We had a party.                                                            ( Her brother gave her a "Happy 3rd 10th Birthday" card.) I took lots of the pics I had of her over the years and collaged them and copied it onto paper and then used it as stationary and wrote her a note. One of the memories that I included in the note was about how when she was 2 she accepted Jesus into her heart. Back then I thought, "oh, how 'cute'..." but I thought she would really accept Jesus and become a Christian when she was older and could understand . Lo and behold she began to have a prayer life. At that time she adored her Uncle George...when he came over she would run at full tilt and...

I like ... crisp Autumn mornings with shocking blue skies and air that pinches your cheeks ~ like your favorite aunt  -- not the creepy one who smells like the fake perfume counter at the local Sav-on, but the one who smells like the apple pie she just lifted from the oven -- little granson kisses when that grandson says "Gamma, hep me" fresh coffee in the morning to be continued

I love it. I really do. Perhaps if I lived in Seattle or somewhere like that with skies a permanent grey and a dearth of sunshine, perhaps then I would find it tedious and drear. But I do not. I live here in the mono-seasonatic land of So. Cal.  Now do not get me wrong ~ I am NOT SORRY that I live here. I love southern California. I love the fact that even in the heat of summer, if you just can make it to sundown, the ocean breeze will flow in like a sigh of relief. I love the fact that when we get winter storms the snow glazes the mountain on the horizon, staying in the vista and off my roads. We get the beauty -- accessible in a mere hour's drive, if you wish -- but really, not the inconvenience and frustration. I love the fact that we can be at the beach  or in the mountains on a whim of any day. So ~ here, here where we get a bit of rain, here I love the rain. I love the color of the clouds: from gray to grey, steel to silver. I love the trees all washed green. I love ...

quiet and misty, the morning came.  cool and crisp, the air ~ falling from the grey ceiling of the sky ~ held the hope of autumn. perhaps that is what woke her, perhaps that is what called her from her dreams. as she opened her eyes she felt just the gentlest kiss of the morning breeze. the curtains ruffled, billowing playfully. stretching she closed her eyes and breathed in and just held her breath. the spice of autumn leaves crunched by someone's early morning walk mixing with the perfume of fresh made coffee.

it is kind-of in honor of Autumn...I think it still needs some more change...but that is alright now cuz the weather seems to think we need some more change too. 100+ degrees at the end of September is just not ok and really really not AUTUMN. yeah. So here a bit and there a bit. OR I may just do something totally different and then again I may just change it back. I am unsettled. can you tell? No, really, I don't know exactly why. It has something to do with the season refusing to change. I love Autumn. I went outside one day and the air was crisp and I looked up and just above me in my maple tree out back was my first of the season colored leaf. It was red ~ such a garnet, current, cranberry red  ~ just at the edges like the green had dripped out during the night, draining the stifling heat of summer away and leaving loveliness there...then another one...and another one. OH! I had the best day all day ~ just because it was autumn. Yeah, did you catch the "was"? ye...

... that perhaps all the hot air of the political campaign has risen above So.CA and caused the heat wave ... sometimes hindsight isn't "20 - 20", but that people keep looking in the rearview mirror anyway and trying to explain the gridlock ahead

there are events that 'mark' time ~ Alina Agopian was born 9 years ago.... I remember the day when we were chatting online with Alex and he told us that Candy was pregnant; I remember when we went to the hospital and I changed Alina's diaper. And those memories are like a cork in a bottle of memories of those day: the house we lived in, the church we led then, faces and places all tagged with hopes and dreams ~ George Tyree died 3 years ago .... I remember the email telling us he was in the hospital and asking for prayer; I remember the hours of prayer - the church gathered in the gym crying out; I remember the realization that George was fully with Jesus in eternity and . . . no longer here. surreal. those memories are like a bottle carbonated that fuzzes and bubbles and puddles all around the opening:  I remember too that during those days Beth told us she was expecting Seth. And Seth is here and with all the rest he is (and he is so much) one little tingling note w...

I saw a pumpkin last night, one of those cute little round ones ~ the kind you use when you really want to make serious pumpkin pie! It was sitting at the checkout at the store. No, lie: my heart skipped a beat. I felt like a kid who gets a party invitation -- so excited and kind of giggly inside. Then I woke up early this morning. Not so much of a surprise except that it is Saturday and Danny is sleeping over at a friends so I could have slept...oh, till the morning was long gone and I had to decide between lunch and dinner as my first meal. My eyes opened and I thought, "Hmmmm ~ coffee" and I snuck out of bed. So glad I did. While the water boiled I went out into the back patio and was greeted by the crisp, misty morning air of real, genuine Autumn! I looked up at my maple tree and saw my very first Autumn leaf. At the edges the summer green had dripped away leaving the most lovely eggplant shade of purple as a lining. Peaking out behind that leaf was a little...

When something happens        ~ a jarring crash, a shocking catastrophe ~ and we see the hand of God reach in and cover, miraculously rescue and protect, then we glimpse,                                          if for only a moment,  the shadow of ten thousands of ten thousands of days all canopied with a shadow of the protective Providential hand of our loving Father  -- his hand holding us --  keeping us from destruction untold. Thank you, Father. Thank you for all the protections and Thank you for all the things ~ all destruction ~ I know nothing of because You hid me in the cleft of the Rock. "...your life is now hidden with Christ in God" Col 3:3

I find that my mind is so full of the "and then I'll..." and "first, I'll..." 's that  when I try to find my mind's writing room   all I can find are blank, drab, dun walls. Translation: writing is hard when "to-do" lists occupy your thinking. I am still trying to get into the swing of this year. My days look something like: get out of be (yeah, I count it, cuz sometimes it requires effort and determination), breakfast, homeschooling (English, Latin, Geography, Logic, Bible, Biology...we are on block schedule, so not everything everyday), dash to the school for 2 hours to tutor a VERY cute, VERY active 4th grade boy who is newnewnewly here from China, come home to make dinner and ... to be honest ... then I sort-of collapse ~ well not literally, but definitely mentally. I have not even read a book for fun -- and TRUST me -- for me that is like skipping vegetables!!! OK, yeah, that all sounds like whining. But ~ well, I guess I feel kind...

Summer is over ~ there are books strewn across the living room / dining room: Geography, Literature, English, Bible, Geometry (finish of last year), Algebra 2. There are notebooks and pencils and pens and a couple of backpacks. It feels both exhilarating and daunting. This year in our homeschooling ... what? journey? jaunt? expedition? peregrination? [ ... I can hear you now...readers "WHAT??" Peregrination????] Yeah, I found it as a synonym of journey and I cannot resist a great new word. So, here: from O.Fr. 1528, from Latin: peregrinationem (nom. pereginatio), " a journey " from peregrinatus, pp. of peregrinari " to journey or travel abroad ", from peregrinus " from foreign parts, foreigner " , from peregre "abroad"   properly   " that found outside the Roman territory ",   from per- (q.v.) + agri, loc. of ager " field, territory, land, country "] Ok I like this word : PEREGRINATION! ... my homeschooling PERE...

... I sat down to write, since writing makes writing easier, and all the thoughts that pirouetted through my mind as I got up -- flitted away without so much as a backward glance. "Hey, wait! Where are you going, ideas. It is so vacant here in my mind without you. W A I T!!! Come back Come back ... come    back" See, I had this idea about "back stories" -- like what went on behind all that goes on 'on stage' in life. It seemed clever as I rolled over when Ed's alarm went off. I could nearly hear the words flowing from my mind to my fingers as I pulled clothes on and sauntered (ok, "sauntered" sounds better, but "stumbled" might be more accurate) to the computer and waited for the computer to wake up too.  Then I sat down. NOTHING. No witty repartee, no sparking metaphors. I hate this. So I think I will ~ go make coffee now and try again later.  mmmpphhhhffffff! grumble.

I can see them, in my mind's eye: my friends, the Weita family, in their house this morning. Jeff is in his office, hidden behind the wall made from book shelves. He is working at his computer tweeking the podcast for Deborah. His glasses are halfway down his nose and he intently peers through them. fingers flying on the keyboard. Deborah, she is in the living room, in "her" chair, a brown recliner, computer on her lap, doing lesson plans. There is at her elbow on a small round table her glass of ice tea. The tea is 2/3's gone and when it is gone it will be as if she is woken from a spell ... but not till then. She reaches for it to take a sip, fingers sure, never looking up -- so intent upon the work.   Lauren is curled up on the couch near her mother reading Beauty . She is savoring the moments of 'free' reading before school starts. Lindsey is in her bedroom: PINK and black! She is sitting in her desk chair playing her guitar. I can hear their bird whistlin...

I don't know exactly what I expected...swamps, everglades ~ maybe alligators. I did not expect it to feel like I was entering a forest, a modern forest, populated and scattered with suburb neighborhoods. Florida! As I looked out the window as the plane prepared for a landing, I saw a sea of green. Lush green. Here and there, a street, a neighborhood. But MOSTLY : trees.  I got off the plane and just as I was warned hit a WALL of humidity and heat. It was 10ish in the morning, the sky was crystal blue and the air was wet with heat. It never stopped amusing me, making me giggle: I would walk outside and my glasses would fog up, like a mirror after a hot shower. I never could get my bearings ~ there were no mountains, and I felt completely lost. Time made me feel, much of the time, like one of those paddle and ball toys ~ the ones with a light wooden paddle with a ball attached to it by a string of elastic. My mind and psyche kept bouncing and snapping back and ...

I have finished. . .and. . .I am done. The last 6 weeks ... all the long years of them ... are now over, finished, completed and done! I taught English 1, the entire freshmen English year, in 6 short/l o n g weeks. It was just THAT crazy. I had 30 Asian students that ranged from, "I can say, 'meeseez my-yuh'" to students who were passionate fanatical study-aholics. Grammar, Voyage of the Dawn Treader , poetry, vocabulary (60 words per week), writing, and Romeo and Juliet all in 6 weeks, four hours a day, 5 days a week...of course that didn't "count" prep and grading time which every teacher knows is actually 'invisible' time anyway.  The snap-shots of faces race across the screen of my mind. I am sure I learned so much more than they did!!! When a whirlwind has spun you around and dropped you somewhere east of Oz and west of Kansas I guess it takes a minute or so to catch your breath and get your bearings. then In the middle of the 6 weeks I...

Ran away with my husband for our 32nd anniversary. It was wonderful! This was the weekend between ending school and starting summer school, so nothing was "hanging" over my head. We love going to Pasadena. It is not a long drive, so we don't feel like we are spending too much time on the "get there" or the "get back". It is different than home so it always feels like "away" to us. We are familiar with where we stay and the layout of the city so it is like putting on comfy slippers, yet Old Town changes just a bit from time to time so there are always surprises waiting for us. So! We stay at the Courtyard by Marriott at the edge of Old Town. We park our car, get our stuff to our room and walk into town for dinner. We weren't sure what we wanted but that doesn't matter because there are restaurants with food from all over the world in easy walking distance no matter which way you head. We had had a  Spanish (not Mexican...which I do ...

I had a thought/feeling this morning while perusing facebook: I realized I felt a bit like I do when we are on a drive. There I sit, invisible inside the passing car. I look out and my eyes hopscotch across the horizon. Maybe a billboard catches my eyes, maybe I notice the flowers scattered across the hill in the distance. Perhaps I see a family in a nearby car (why  do I think I can see them but they won't notice me ? ? ? hmmm). I skim over so many 'see-able' things, hitting the "delete" button with every blink. Facebook seems like that for me sometimes. It is like I am scanning a passing view, glancing at some posts, stopping and looking into others. Even the scroll button at the bottom of the screen mimics the spin of the passing world out the car window. Is that why I like it? Is it the 'invisible viewer' stance I take? Maybe this isn't such a good thing...hmmmmm.

Hymns...5 verses, 6 verses. Prayers full of thee's and thou's spoken reverantly and full of emotion. Students' faces shining. Traditons: stepping over swords; students plunked on the head with a Bible to remind them that they must submit to the admonishment and correction of the Word of God; "Alma Mater" sung IN LATIN!!. Students hugging teachers passionately; teachers eyes and voices full of love and tears. Soberness mixed liberally with laughter. Everything serious; no one taking themselves too seriously. Honors. Pride. Joy. Laughter. Music. Tears. A room full of students who all worked together, who all worked hard ~ really hard. A room full of students who loved eachother and were passionately proud of eachother. . . . and me ~ crying my make-up off, and crying again, and crying again ~ and me ... hugging my students, crying with them, with joy, with passion. I remember these students in my class  -- deep talks, jokes, laughter, admonishments. I remember loo...

I have, today, the amazing privilege of attending the graduation for the Torry Honors Program at Biola. I am going as an invited guest ~ invited by two of my former students. Four years ago, 5 students who attended Southlands were accepted and are now graduating...2 of them are my students. I am pleased...pleased in a saturate and solid way. What I love about teaching is sharing the moment when a light comes on in someone's eyes ~ seeing wonder unfold on their face. Conversely what I hate (loathe, abhor) is the feeling I get when students do not want to learn and infact refuse to do so. . .students who close their eyes -- students who are purposely obtuse. The exhaustion and tedium of  enduring those dull boorish lumps (ok, harsh but yeah that is what it is like) is MORE than over matched when a student looks up, catches my eye and I can tell that they SEE...when I can see the wonder of "oh YEAH!" on their face. So I go on teaching. Therefore to be allowed ~ invited ...

sometimes as I walk, or clean a bathroom, or do dishes, my mind is full of thought fit for writing. Ideas and images brew into concepts that flow through my fingers off onto the computer screen. ... sometime ... not now. Now ~ it is like when you are standing against a wall in a very full room and you feel your lips seal -- tight tight -- you know, you just know, nothing will escape. That is how my mind feels now. There is no sound there. No words. No images. Nothing. Maybe tomorrow ~

OK! Better day!!!! As I groused and grumbled before the Lord, in His mercy He gave me an idea. I took blank paper, colored pencils, crayons and pens to class. I told them to read Revelation chapter 6 and draw something that depicted what was happening. THEY DID IT!!! They didn't grumble ~ they chatted and laughed, asked good questions and DID the assignment. Amazing how a better day makes you feel so much better!! And I have an entire weekend ahead of me with NO disgruntled-done students to manage. Before I went to class I asked one of the other teachers how it was going in their Bible class. I told her about my day and confessed, "I wasn't mean to them ... but I wanted to be!" She said, "OH, I was!! They were terrible and I got mean." We ended up laughing with all the teachers in the room about the silliness of end of the year syndrome, and the craziness in the class room. One teacher said, "yeah, they are asking questions .... just to make noise, like...

Ok...read the last post? well I crashed and burned! Not in an explode and fry the students way...but the class -- ok both classes were like I was speaking Gaelic to a wall...even I wasn't sure what I was saying by the end of the class. So...I will try again tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that and a few more days after that...

So the year is over ~ well almost anyway. And my Bible class is now at the Revelation. (I strongly emphasize to them that the book's real name is The Revelation of Jesus Christ, not "Revelation s ") I am making them do response papers. Sadly, I do not expect much from most of them ... It was a job of WORK to keep them interested for most of the year. I have a class that is quite mixed...all high school, grades from 9 to 12, about 15% American, then a mix of Korean and Chinese...some of those are Christians and but many of them literally had never heard of Jesus or seen a Bible before they came here to school in the US. They are taking a Bible class because we require it of them...but as far as they are concerned : what ever!!! It will not count for college, they don't believe any of it, and it is a colossal waste of time. And, for that matter, a good many of the American kids couldn't, pretty much, care less either. They are here cuz their moms and dads sent the...

I love reading. Anyone who knows me, if they really know me, knows that. I have hidden in books, and found myself in books. When immersed in story I can see my world, often, much more clearly. Literally, books feed my soul ~ and my spirit ~ and my mind. When life has scraped me raw inside, my favorite balm of healing is often an hour or more reading Heschel ~ The Prophets, or C. S. Lewis--any of his apologetics. I agree with Lewis...books should be re-read; and if a book isn't worth re-reading, it probably wasn't really worth reading. I am reading two new authors right now: Richard Peck and Ursula Le Guin. OK...they are not "new"... I just found them. They are both wonderful. Peck took me back to the 30's; Le Guin took me to another world. Both made truth the background music of story.

We took a leisurely morning. I had ~ as part of the trip-snacks ~ gotten a box of chocolate donuts by Hostess. Personally I hate them, no really ~ hate them. But my children lovethemlovethemlove them. When I buy them, they immediately send votes in to have me chosen "MOTHER OF THE YEAR". I laugh and say, "See, this is me loving YOU!" They believe me. Well somehow there were a few left from the drive. Honestly I don't know how, cuz the kids always gobble them like they actually taste like something other than cardboard covered in plastic ~ go figure. Any way , for breakfast we had left over bread, and they, mostly nicely, shared the last of the donuts. We had good coffee and hot chocolate, and lots of laughs. This is telling tales out of school -- but I cannot resist: At one point Erica said in an almost whispery conspiratorial voice, "Mom?? Can I jump on the bed?" After I told her she could, her dad and I reminded her that she is 24 and really ...

It has been a while, but with a gentle shove from my sweet friend: a reminder that I never finished the story, ~ I roll back the pages of memory and ... We arrived in San Fran on a cool evening (I think 'cool ' is found in the San Fran thesaurus when you look up normal). Our hotel was downtown in the Financial District...nice cuz it is lovely, and parking is 'right there' and we are walking distance from restaurants. The rooms were high and had a lovely view of the bay. (Thank you AGAIN, Priceline!!) For me, a travel essential is good coffee and good tea . . . I bring my own: fresh ground Starbucks Italian Roast; Earl Grey, Lady Grey, and Irish Breakfast tea; an electric tea pot and my own water; and my own creamer (Coffeemate for me, half and half for everyone else) and real mugs. It is a glorious indulgence to make a cup of tea at night and sip it looking out on the skyline and the bay. I sat far back from the window -- since -- directly below us, if you scanned left ...

It started with my daughter -- in this case, her father 's daughter. "Let's take a road trip...to the Sequoia's or to the Grand Canyon!" MY idea of a good time isn't sitting in a car for hours. Erica's father, on the other hand, loves 'adventures': an adventure is when he gets in the car and heads out...somewhere. "Road trip?...the Grand Canyon is OUT!" "Why??" "There is a desert between us and the Grand Canyon!" So at the end of a long conversations where Erica extolled the wonders of roadtrips, the need to get away, and the fact that she and her dad and I were all off from Thursday to Sunday...I told her to chat with her dad. Ultimately we settled on Sequoia National Park...come to find out a mere 5 to 6 hours from here. We planned and shopped for essentials for the drive: things like chips and bread and jerky and chocolate. Then the storm threatened and suddenly Sequoias were out...so was the Grand Canyon ~ a sno...

Often -- too too often -- I am yipped and yapped at by should's and ought's. I am the problem...on some days my 'rose-colored' glasses are streaked with grim and smudged as I rub them with grimmier fingers. Yesterday as I scanned the horizon of life -- not just my life, but life as far and wide as I could see -- I saw patterns of things that should not be the way they are, things that ought to have come through change to good and settled by now. It is weariness to me. I can quote the answers but they come out ~ on days like those ~ as trite, heartless syllogisms: true in point of fact, but without heart and devoid of life. I know the power that ought to course through the Body of Christ ~ the dynamic miracle, the cutting edge creativity, the unshakable integrity...and I see my'self' and see that in these and in so soooooo many areas I stand 'the chief of all sinners'. Yes, 4 fingers pointed back at me and 1 pointed out at situation after situation, eve...

Shooting was very fun...and kind of scary. And loud. And I liked to shoot. And Erica hurt her hand. And the family that shoots together, keeps all their stuff. And BANG!

So I wrote the last one because I had an image...not a story. I was reading my 'dictionary.com' entry that morning. OBVIOUSLY the word of the day was cacophony . cacophony: 1. harsh discordance of sound; dissonance: a cacophony of hoots, cackles, and wails. 2. a discordant and meaningless mixture of sounds: the cacophony produced by city traffic at midday. 3. Music. frequent use of discords of a harshness and relationship difficult to understand. I instantly was struck with the juxtaposition of thought having cacophony too...but a cacophony silent to the world. My mind swirled with the idea/concept/questions ~ in my head, I 'hear' thoughts...when I can concentrate it is (usually) one voice. But though I hear it , it isn't made of sound....but if I 'hear' it -- and I do -- what is it? So I stopped on an image of those moments when thoughts bombard me from all directions at once: memories of conversations, sometimes mixed with things I wish I had said; questio...

She readjusted her glasses and intently set her eyes to the print infront of her. Words and words. By the bottom of the page, lines and lines of lines and lines...she gave up. Snapping the book shut and pushing it to the back of the desk, she spun in her chair to gaze out the window. Marion said her name 4 times before it registered ~ the silent cacophany of her thoughts blaring above any sound her ears tried to bring her. a beginning...of something

I re-read the last blog. I told my daughter it was a bit like fruitcake. That isn't exactly a perfect comparison, especially because I really don't like fruitcake at all. What I mean is it was chalked full of too much...too much-ness. The sentences were one simile and one metaphor and one comparison after another. (I bet, Garth, that you either laughed out loud, or didn't even bother finishing it.) I thought about it and wondered if it might have had something to do with the fact that I hadn't been able to write anything in like a week -- couldn't even really "think" writing. I wonder if the images stacked up by the door of my mind and all tumbled out together. Don't get me wrong...it was fun to write "Reflections". When I told my daughter that I needed suggestions cuz I had hit a DRY spot, she said I should think of a memory from when they were all little and write a story. I remembered a dress-up box that the kids had. They had spent hours ...

She stood, like a cameo surrounded by the perfect oval of her tall mirror, amid the scattered jumble of this and that dress tossed carelessly from the dress-up chest. The gown she had chosen was only barely still lavender and scarred by careless coffee drips and after date make-up smudges. She didn't see them. She didn't see the unmended rip at the hem where a misplaced high heel had severed material from seam. With an unconscious tug at the sleeve to pull it back up on her shoulder, she focused on the old lace table cloth and the clips barrettes she was using to secure it to her braids -- braids she had bobby-pinned to the top of her head in what looked to her to be a crown. She had chosen the mismatched jumble of barrettes with the practiced eye of a Milan couturier. Stepping back and turning slowly -- this way, then that -- she surveyed the effect as the light caught the facets in the 'diamonds' of the tiara that held her bridal veil in place. She smiled. And she saw...

I like the feel of a cold floor on bare feet on a brisk morning. Funny because I like a warm bed to tuck my feet into at night. I like the first whiff of fresh ground coffee beans. I like the color of the sky at twilight -- deepening aqua blue, especially when the trees are silhouetted against it. I like roses and I like violets. Violets are especially wonderful early in the morning when the dew is sprinkled on the green velvet leaves and the violets are deep and purple and full of perfume. I like the smell of homemade bread when it is baking in the oven. I like the first bite of homemade cookies. I like the magic you catch when your eyes lock with someone's and you know the same delightful thought dances in your mind and theirs. I like the wonder I feel as I gaze at art in a museum. I love standing there, caught in the amazement of beauty. I like strong Irish cheddar cheese, crisp crackers and Earl Grey Tea. I like a bit of butter, with salt and pepper on popcorn and a cup of good...

after a hiatus ... back to finish John 3 Ok...Jesus has had a "let me tell you what is in your heart, and let me tell you who I Am" chat with Nicodemus. As I have said, I think for me the only way that the beginning of John 3 makes sense is to read it with some OT scriptures...ones that I think were on Nic's heart, ones that I think Jesus used to reveal 1) the state of Nic's heart, 2) the dynamic need for the Holy Spirit (ruach) of God, not just perfection in religious practice, and 3) that he, Jesus, is telling Nic that he is Messiah, and God. It is, it seems, all too too much for Nic to deal with. His question, (John 3:9) "How can this be?" Nicodemus asked . (NIV) to me reveals a man whose carefully crafted world view has just been shattered. He cannot deny what Jesus has revealed...but...what does he do? He KNOWS KNOWS that the Pharisees are not merely out to win a philosophical/theological debate. They are out for blood. Can he jump? It seems as the sto...

Sometimes trying to write is like...well facing a room where the furniture is all over the place -- most of it blocking the door. Going in. getting across, to "the other side" -- it is so hard. That is how I feel. I remember the room when it was in order. The light was streaming in -- dancing off the crystals meant to catch the light and play with it. Beauty everywhere. Windows wide -- an inviting panorama. but ... today... clutter, shin-high clutter walls of things out of place windows blocked.... I stand on the door step and try to ponder going in but I just can't Maybe tomorrow...I'll try

as I read through Acts ... and the attendant epistles... I am teaching through Acts and the letters of Paul right now to a gaggle of gangly teens --- yeah, that was bad -- I know -- but ... ok, no excuse for sappy alliteration so ~ as I was saying The characters and the flow of the story are so intriguing: Paul, the uber-educated ex-Pharisee, trudging along the road from Antioch to Derbe to Iconium to ... ... ??? on his "second missionary journey"... thinking, "lets go to Asia!" and the Holy Spirit saying "nope!" " OH, ummmm OK, then, how about if we go NORTH to Bithynia?" and the Holy Spirit says, "nope, NOPE!!" I think I have felt that way...heck, I think I feel that way right now: "OK...so we have been out doing our best to do what we are called to and ~ ok, never mind the beatings, and oppositon from people who used to be our friends (I suspect he actually KNEW some of the Jewish Christians who came into the region...especially...