void

void or a-void

why i felt to come here rather than to my own private world of journaling i don't know, it is easier to come here i guess...

tonight it struck me hard that what was said earlier could be true, that i might not survive. i feel like a breaking has been happening for a while, even as i left zambia, slowly what was hidden under the surface is rising and i'm scared of what might come of all of it

i'm running, afraid, and left so incredibly unsure of everything and so here i am. trying to make it seem like everything is okay when it isn't. i don't really know what i can hold on to.

a hole has opened in my heart, a space i made for god but hesitate to let him fill. i want something else

if i had a place for honesty, a place where i could tell you the truth and it would be okay i would tell you that i wished i could walk away from it all. i wished, and maybe part of me still does, that i could say i didn't believe anymore. i don't want to believe anymore. because believing means so much

i'm tired also of being unknown. it has been so long since i've felt known, and it is so exhausting to rebuild amidst the fear and my constant pushing against you to keep you at a distance. intimacy, a fearful longing

i feel responsible for something that is totally beyond me...

silence and chaos

i'd like to put a name to it

those colors that imitate a kaleidoscope

acid trip

in my head

they are loud and distracting

aggravated by what was meant to be

a place of worship

honor turns to distraction

and then he speaks

in clear monotone expressions

the passion radiates from his stone-like face

he puts that chaos in its place

he names it

the battleground defined by a man

a man who i assumed would be a puddle

reveals a piece of his ocean

now yearning

for silence and intention

getting back to my center

favorite lines

just a few so far from a severe mercy by sheldon vanauken with letters by c.s. lewis

"to believe with certainty, somebody said, one has to begin by doubting"

"those who condemn what they do not understand are, surely, little men"

"honesty is better than any easy comfort"

"if you are really a product of a materialistic universe, how is it you don't feel at home there? do fish complain of the sea for being wet? or if they did, would that fact itself not strongly suggest that they had no always been, or would not always be, purely aquatic creatures...."

"i suspected that all the yearnings for i knew not what that i had
ever felt - when autumn leaves were burning in the twilight, when wild geese flew crying overhead, when i looked up at bare branches against the stars, when spring arrived on an april morning - were in trust yearnings for him. for god. i yearned towards him"

"the banner of my independence dipped, lying in the dust and myself kneeling, but somehow proudly still."

"to a man on a mountain road by night, a glimpse of the next three feet of road may matter more than a vision of the horizon"

"i think there is a great deal to be said for having one's deepest spiritual interest distinct from one's ordinary duty as a student or professional man...sacred things may become profane by becoming matters of the job"

"that something we long for, whether it be an island in the west or the other side of a mountain or perhaps a schooner yacht, long for it in the belief that it will mean joy, which it never fully does: because what we are really longing for is god"

attention

i have decided that until i get married i will need to get pedicures and massages on a regular basis to get that attention i need. this will possibly be a weekly scheduled activity

i say this will only be needed until i get married because i know my husband will then take over the regular foot and back massages

ummm, why are all my married friends laughing right now?!

dancing zorbas

they called them the dancing ladies, i called them the dancing zorbas...i couldn't help the connection made in my mind. a dance troupe in east mesa had volunteered to help out with our summer kiddos program by teaching folk dancing once a week. all a bit suspicious and wary, katie and i drove to meet them and get a sample of their moves.

we arrived at a "retirement" community that wouldn't let us in the entrance because it was a "member's only" entrance, so we had to drive around a city block to enter in the correct entrance. The man just told us to turn right and keep going, so we did, weaving through small little houses with manicured lawns and stale looking desert scenes strategically placed.

the front of the house was surrounded with cars and upon entering the house the smell of old hit me. it was a smell of old mixed with some strong scent of a flower. the lady who welcomed us was called nan. i smirked at her dyed red hair and bright lipstick. she wore dancing shoes with socks that folded down at the ankles. this attire seemed to be the uniform for the lovely elderly ladies as they all sported the fold down socks with saddle type shoes, except for josephine in her nice moo moo and ballet shoes.

they introduced katie and i to the group, several ladies within the mid 80's range, one randomly placed 40-something woman, and then jack, my favorite, who sat in the corner with a blank stare on his face. i loved him from hello.

nan wanted things her way and one might guess that she could have been a teacher or a drill sergeant in her earlier years. she was intense, and not nice. the other ladies were all smiles as we went over the logistics until we got to the good part, when they sampled the dances for us.

the white plastic tape went into the tape player, nan turned up the volume, and while the crackling tape played a bad recording of an old folksy tune the ladies joined hands and started skipping, doing "the vine" and the "tap"...which nan informed us we wouldn't understand cause we hadn't learned these terms. Josephine was so little, and like a little sprite. she smiled as she performed, hopping and skipping around, so pleased with her little body in that huge moo moo. they did some sort of chest bump thing as two of the sides of the circle approached one another and then the other sides followed suit in chest bump style. josephine smiled at me when the song was over and said she loved that part the best. i smothered my laughter and kept it on the inside.

nan spouted orders as she put in other tapes, "we need four, get up and do it, the four of you!" this was for the partner hand dance, "me, me, me and then you, you, you" she tried teaching katie and i when i said it looked complex. we asked for the macarana and one of the ladies said she couldn't do it, it was just too hard.

nan put on the tape and began to count out the beat, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen. ummm.....who knew you could have a count of sixteen with music like this?! i laughed as she got to the teens where the "hey, macarana" part was and you're supposed to shimmy. she did a four way pelvic thrust so precise it made me feel awkward and i looked over to jack in the corner to see if he was watching. he was. katie and i got up to dance along and try and help nan get on beat...she didn't.

the logistics began again, just the final times and places to sum things up and nan shouted towards the corner, "harriet, harriet...please be quiet!" she continued on discussing with katie until again she stopped in mid-sentence and walked over to the ladies sitting next to me, waving her finger as i was nervous she was going to knock someone out. "harriet! i can't hear a thing with you jabbering over here! be quiet!" harriet responded, "it was josephine this time, not me!" and as nan walked away i watched as harriet and josephine slapped at each other in cat-like fashion, mocking their scolding...

it was more amusing than i can express and katie and i laughed with tears streaming down our faces the whole way back to the office. today was the best day ever, basically! i wish i had a picture...

smelly men in buses

i was running late, as usual. i'm always running late. but today the stress was elevated as i had a bus to catch. the bus didn't care if i needed to be at work on time, it had a schedule to keep. i walked briskly with my bags slung over each shoulder, wishing i was just wearing my runners and a t-shirt so i could jog to the bus instead of attempt to look cute in the midst of the adventure.

i walked up to the bus stop and addressed the safest looking person i could find to ensure i was in the right place. a middle aged hispanic woman dressed in scrubs assured me i was in the right place. i told her it was my first time. i was an american bus-riding virgin, and she seemed eager to help me figure it all out. "you pay $1.25 for each bus you take, but a day pass is only $2.50, so if you have to take more than one bus you might as well just get the day pass. and you need exact change." i was pleased than i put the three crumpled dollars in my pocket along with a few quarters. this was going to work out perfectly!

the bus arrived and i was nervous to get on, nervous to pay my payment and unsure what all i needed to do. as i stepped onto the bus the man behind the wheel, a jolly looking black man, told me the ride was free. "we're all jammed up today." people were standing and holding onto those plastic loops attached to metal bars lining the roof of the bus. i found a place to sit where i could get a good look at everyone and tried to appear as though i had been here before.

so many different kinds of people ride the bus! friends, family, elderly people, business folk, and even little children on their way to school. it was interesting to see people still in the process of life, but life on the bus. children were putting their shoes on and practicing tying them. a mother and daughter got into an argument, another pair were talking about abstract mathematics.

a man in a chef's uniform sat next to me and i thought this was a good opportunity to get a free meal at a nice restaurant. i found he is actually a cook, not a chef...big difference. and he continued to ask me my favorite meals and telling me what he was cooking at his place tonight. i felt a little uncomfortable but he helped me out with pulling the cord after my first hour ride down southern as the bus approached 7th street. you've gotta pull that cord or else the bus man might just drive on by. this made me nervous, my palms were sweaty. who knew it could be so complex?!

i walked with another guy to the connecting bus stop, he works for corporate america in downtown phoenix and takes the bus once a week. i thought that was pretty cool. my generalizations were dissolving by the hours.

the 7th street bus does a few loopty loops just in case you ever ride up north on this one. i was confident by broadway that i was on the wrong bus as we made a left turn and headed west. i walked up to the front of the bus and asked the driver but he assured me i was in the right place. i decided to trust him and just go along with the adventure as the scenery changed. the bus was a little more empty and i was the only white girls riding anymore. i was sitting up in the front and decided to move back a little more. i was afraid some people might have the image of the past in their minds, the whites in front, blacks in back. that's the image i had at least and i wanted to be sure that i wasn't contributing to any sort of images for others. so i moved back.

a bunch of construction men joined and i found myself in the lucky position between two sweaty men. the one on the left had really bad breath and was yawning a lot...not nice. every time he yawned i leaned over to the opposite side to take a deep breath. this continued until i reached my destination.

i walked off the bus empowered. i totally did it...and i was early to work for the first time, ever.

the ride home was somewhat similar. i again asked those at the bus stop if i was on time for an earlier bus and they all smiled at me encouraging. these were an older crew so i felt more comfortable. i got onto the bus and sat next to a man who stared out the window his entire ride. he smelled good and had a kind face so i felt comfortable. he laughed as a very obese woman in very small shorts got off the bus, commenting that she needed to buy bigger clothes. i laughed too and was delighted at what caught his attention. its fun when people give you a glimpse of their inner workings.

i made my way back to southern with the high school kids filling up the bus near southern. i was glad to get off and walk towards my next bus stop to wait.

after waiting over 20 minutes at the bus stop a metro city van pulled up and a man shouted, "this is the bus." i got on while the other three waiting did not. i worried once i got inside that i had been tricked. on the normal bus you weren't allowed to have food or drinks. this van smelled like mcdonald's fries and the man i sat next to was drinking a forty out of a paper bag. i wondered if i should tell on him or let it slide. maybe he'd give me a swig, then i'd be alright. i didn't have to pay for this ride either, the bus broke down...i could've been waiting for over an hour if i'd stuck with the others at my stop.

we made it back to good 'ol alma school. i moved into the front of the van once the front seat was empty and chatted with the driver and attempted to help him out getting others into the van. a very large man entered the van and the only space available was on the floor. the driver kept the windows rolled down to keep the scent out of our nostrils. we bonded because of that.

it was an adventure for sure. not worth the four hours but totally worth the experience, the new-found confidence. i didn't want to be afraid of anything, you know?! i imagined that only a certain kind of person took the bus and i would avoid too much eye contact when walking past a bus stop. but now i feel like we are one, we bus riding humans. and i would totally do it again. totally....

buses

taking the bus is an adventure for only the daring, like myself :) four hours of bus riding to get to and from the four hours of work for the day...definitely worth it. more to come....

the peak

memories of the past can be clouded by, other memories of the past...

i haven't climbed squaw peak in over 15 years, and when i went today memories came rushing back, anger, betrayal...what if i saw him? would i be that little girl he spoke of, throwing rocks at him? i would like to still, after all these years. ask him why he thought it was necessary, why he didn't think of anyone else.

i had to conquer that mountain as if i had something to prove. maybe that i could do it alone, that i was grown up now and didn't have to live in fear of facing that confrontation. maybe...well, i'm not really sure. but as i climbed, i didn't like feeling all the negative overwhelming me. i climbed and began to say in my head that i forgive him, even though i felt like i was lying...

i'd like to let go and move past those things. not throw out everything just because of something. i remembered how my dad used to call me his little mountain goat when he would take me hiking. i was always so proud and felt so strong. i loved being his little mountain goat! i wondered how much patience it must have taken for them to take me on that mountain every saturday morning. my legs could barely make some of those steps now, just think of my little legs trying it before. the hike must have taken so long, and i know i probably had to go to the bathroom, and needed to stop a lot to rest...and of course, i really liked it when my dad would give me a piggy-back ride when we hiked...that was definitely the best.

"i forgive him, i forgive him", this time i had to say it out loud. maybe it means more when you say it out loud...so i tried. and began to feel sorry for him a little. sorry for the mess he made of things, the family that he lost because of it. we were a family at one time, he was like an uncle, or maybe another father...but not anymore. he is just a man in a memory from long ago that turned out not to cherish what i cherished most. and that is too bad for him; was too bad for all of us really. but i think i'm gonna let him go, off the hook with me, cause i don't need to hold on to any pain from so long ago. i'll just look ahead, and try and do things differently

it isn't just the valleys we have to overcome, sometimes its the peaks as well...

bearded motorcyclist

yesterday i saw two men behind me on motorcycles. one of the men was moving his mouth and hands quickly and the other man beside him was nodding, as if he understood. but the first man had a scruffy, long mustache and beard surrounding his mouth and i wondered if the second man was just humoring the first. pretending that somehow he could hear above the motorcycles' engines or maybe he was pretending to read the first man's lips. but they were invisible lips...lips only to be accepted by faith, not by sight.

i was perplexed

as i continued to watch them in my rear-view mirror i began to notice that the first man kept using these wild hand movements that seemed a bit manic at first look but then i began to see that they were not random, sporadic gestures but rather, they were his form of communication. he was using sign-language. it struck me as amazing as i then turned my eyes to the second man who was still nodding his head but signing back to the first.

it all became beautiful then

known

i want you to know me. i mean, really know me. i want you to cherish my heart and understand my struggles. i want you to know my hurts, see my wounds and acknowledge my fragility. i want you to be refreshed by my passions, excited by my excitements, proud of my successes. i want you to be that thing that reminds me that all else will be okay because i am at least known by one, even one...but i'm not sure if that is possible. i would love for it to be, but i'm just not sure.

i've got it into my head that maybe who i want you to be for me god wants to be for me, is for me. it's just that you are sitting right there and could touch me if you wanted to. you could give me a hug and say those words that i long to hear. and then i am reminded that it is only because of him that you are what you are for me. it is really him, not you...and he has been there all along. in the one that was before you, in you, and he is already in the one he has for me after you can't be here with me anymore. but it is him, not you.

i struggle with the empty space that is left between myself and you and wish that the void could be filled by just us, connecting, becoming one. henri nouwen hinted that loneliness might just stick around, even with you by my side. and i won't fill your empty spaces either. i won't be able to completely know you like i wish i could. i can't heal your wounds and celebrate your innermost joys, they are beyond me, outside of me, inside of him. it's a bit of a let down, but something that reminds me, its in him, not in me. fulfillment, joy, peace, healing, understanding...all outside of me, inside of him.

i am known inside of him

c.group

"the christian needs another christian who speaks God's word to him. he
needs him again and again when he becomes uncertain and discouraged, for by
himself he cannot help himself without belying the truth. he needs his brother
man as a bearer and proclaimer of the divine word of salvation. he needs his
brother solely because of Jesus Christ. the Christ in his own heart is weaker
than the Christ in the word of his brother; his own heart is uncertain, his
brother's is sure" eugene peterson

first question asked, "why are you here and what do you hope to get from coming to this c.group?"

you see, i thought that "c" stood for "coffee"... we are meeting at a coffee shop are we not?! so the answer swirling through my head didn't feel appropriate as i saw bibles on the table. hmmm...think of something good. it's gotta be better than my desire for community right?

i was prepared, had my bible with tiny print, and really did assume that "c" stood for more than just a nice cup of coffee and community. but that's what i got anyways...

i would like to believe that this group can be my support group for humans. don't tell the other members, they might be offended as support groups are only needed for the weak. but for me, they will be my supporters, my sponsors.

to share life with others is divine, the rawness, vulnerability, necessary for healing and the acceptance within it all is that soothing salve we all need on our wounds.

"how wonderful, how beautiful, when brothers and sisters get along! its like
costly anointing oil flowing down head and beard, flowing down aaron's beard,
flowing down the collar of his priestly robes. it's like the dew on mount
hermon flowing down the slopes of zion. yes, that's where God commands the
blessing, ordains eternal life" Psalms 133