only way to go there

"you have an idea of what the new country looks like. still, you are very much at home, although not truly at peace, in the old country. you know the ways of the old country, its joys and pains, its happy and sad moments. you have spent most of your days there. even though you know that you have not found there what your heart most desires, you remain quite attatched to it. it has become part of your very bones.

now you have come to realize that you must leave it and enter the new country, where your Beloved dwells. you know that what helped and guided you in the old country no longer works, but what else do you go by? you are being asked to trust that you will find what you need in the new country. that requires the death of what has become so precious to you: influence, success, yes, even affection and praise.

trust is so hard, since you have nothing to fall back on. still, trust is what is essential. the new country is where you are called to go, and the only way to go there is naked and vulnerable.

it seems that you keep crossing and recrossing the border. for a while you experience a real joy in the new country. but then you feel afraid and start longing again for all you left behind, so you go back to the old country. to your dismay, you discover that the old country has lost its charm. risk a few more steps into the new country, trusting that each time you enter it, you will feel more comfortable and be able to stay longer."

henri j.m. nouwen

mexican

yesterday i was driving to book club* and my windows were distractingly dirty. as i pulled onto the street i realized that an accident would soon take place if i did not clean them. on go my windsheild wipers. the water and soap mixture sprays out.... on the passengers side. the squirter that covers my field of vision was evidently clogged. needless to say jenny could see the road oh so clearly. i, on the other hand, squinted for twenty five minutes through thick streaks and a strong glare.

book club lasted an hour and a half.

we are about to finish:

the particular sadness of lemon cake by aimee bender

before we drove home, i realized that my eyes would have to battle the red glare from brakelights as the sun had rest it's head below the horizon. so i proceeded to take my almost finished water bottle and pour its remaining contents on my side of the windshield. hurried in the car and turned on the windshield wipers. for some reason, this made me feel extremely mexican. it's something my mother would have done. except she would have wiped it down with a napkin or a tissue.

i love her.

and i love that i've inherited her mexican tendencies.

now i just need to master her enchiladas

tamales

and other finger-licking good dishes.

*i haven't mentioned this yet. tomorrow, i promise.

more often.

today i wore no makeup*.

and did not feel an iota less than beautiful for one single moment.

i think i will do this more often.

because i am beautiful.

with no need for enhancement via CoverGirl or MAC.

*this excludes everything EXCEPT chapstick and a quick curl of the eyelashes since mine are pin straight.

the debris.

the past hour i saw the deterioration of a relationship between my mother and my sister.

i saw the past repeat itself.

angry words like bulldozers in shoddy buildings.

ground zero in my living room.

the debris is suffocating.

and i saw children who were afraid.

and i saw a mother who was afraid.

and i, too, felt afraid.

i'll embrace the flame

He dares to be more intimate with myself than I do. searching out the lowest parts. desiring truth in the innermost parts. familiar with all my faults and failings. He is giving me what i have asked for. cried for. to know Him. to be like Him. to dwell with Him in the beauty of His holiness. to be holy as He is holy. to talk with Him face to face like a friend.

He longs to lead me in paths of righteousness for His names sake. and all idols must be destroyed, must be cast into His loving gentle hands. and His fiery gaze that promises sustenance will have to be enough. i won't be afraid, i'll embrace the flame. though it may sting. and reduce. it is refining. gold will not be the name of a precious element, but a description of the state of my heart. pure. without extraneous matter. dross burned up with fire. fear burned up with love.

intimacy requires sacrifice.

to cultivate relationship with the Holy One of Israel i must desert the time and affections i give so easily and blindly to others.

and more than sacrifice, obedience.

if you love me, you will obey my commands.

john 14:15

not despising His instruction or authority.

not disregarding His statutes. but delighting in His life-giving, life-sustaining word. assured that correction and discipline are an overflow of the Father's love. convinced that the law of His love is grace and mercy and justice.

His courts are lovely. His dwelling place is majestic.

my home, the secret place, the altar of sacrifice.

obedience sweetened by love for the Beautiful One.

feverish

the stones leading to my front door aren't round.

they are slabs of speckled concrete. square. plain. light grey.

they aren't dainty. or whimsical.

not like the stones that lead to secret gardens or hideaways where rebellious sophisticates rendezvous.

they are upfront and don't lie about how hard they are. or how people who drag their feet end up with stubbed toes.

but their hardness has welcomed me since the third grade.

this morning i saw a lizard with cracked skin scrambling across the third stone.

spry with anxiety. feverish. urgent.

and around it's back was an interminable string - thin, sheer, taut- attatched to the sun.

summer riding high like a kite.

the prison between the binding

reading time was his least favorite time of day. the teacher's pencil skirt zipped so tight, seemed to be like mummys wrappings, well-fitted grave clothes.

shhh. no talking.

the words did not make sense unless they were spoken. they longed to be spoken.

but for forty minutes each school day, he flipped the pages without understanding.

the ships would not leave the dock.

the adventurers added locks to their doors.

bluejays sang and nobody heard them.

children were ignored like shriveled prunes that nobody likes.

forty minutes of pretending.

then on to history - when the sea tasted like salty tea.

compliments of incensed colonists.

but his voice was like magic and justice. it liberated words, black with languish. and ships. and adventurers. it gave bluejays and children the freedom that only an attentive listener could. an earthquake of sound emancipated the captives in the prison between the binding.

their life was on his lips:

endless oceans and mountain ranges and skies and jungle gyms.

snowflakes in july

last night i was bored...

and i found construction paper.

so i began to cut.

ready to pull open....

peek.a.boo!

and made five more.

everyone knows that snowflakes in july are the perfect cure for boredom.

i don't know what to do with them yet.

so they are going in a crate with all of my crafts who have

no permanent home.

left to wait until i determine a place that is worthy of their stay.

, of course.

the past month or so has included weddings and graduations.

here are some pictures and captions.

and introductions, of course.

this is my nephew. to the right is him at the beginning of sixth grade.

to the left is him now - an almost junior higher. (eeks!)

this is my mom. and she's my favorite. strong and equally silly.

this is brother number two (aka bert) and his son. and his girlfriend jen.

my nephew was so excited that day. ;)

nathan making rocks talk. pssst. it only works if you close your eyes.

mikey is a bonafide rockstar. just saying.

the cousins. primary colors are my favorite in theory,

because i would never have the audacity to decorate with such vibrancy.

evidently gracie and i are in agreement about primary colors.

brother and me. oldest and youngest. fifteen years difference ain't no thang.

and this is my familia. from left to right: jon and gracie, my dearest sister and brother-in-law who just moved; my mom and dad, i used to wear those shades when i was little - ray bands never get old; brother number one (aka adi), he's pretty sweet; my cousin the bride and her new hub!; bert, also pretty sweet; me; my niece, she's only sixteen and wearing heels for the first time, my heels to be specific, i refuse to let her grow up anymore; my sister patty, never without rocking heels and red lipstick, and my brother's girlfriend jen.

no little ones in this one - they are running around on the golfcourse.

patty is so slick. did i not say mikey was a rockstar?

oh, there are the little ones.

that's it folks.

thanks for bearing with me.

and for putting up with sideways pictures.

happy monday!

dream light

today i am thankful for

waking up to wistful whistling of birds

rather than the steely jackhammering of construction workers.

the translucence of my curtains

and the dream light that escapes through them.

the satisfactory state between sleep and awake,

it's like a perfectly warm bath.

icy smoothies with pinapples from the philippines,

pomegranates from the middle east,

and strawberries from the central coast of the

red, white, and blue.

the bigness of the universe

and the tinyness of me.

the noon sun has yet to rise.

so many more things to be thankful for, to be thankful in.

fruit with my fruit

last week i ran three times.

(success!)

my mom proceeded to purchase mcdonalds for dinner.
my dinner the next night? del taco.
and although i attempted to start and end the day with eating fruit it kind of went downhill from there.
at night my strawberries were accompanied with about 800 calories of nutella.

(200 calories per tbsp, really?)

but it's so misty outside this morning. (seriously July, is this all you have to offer me? you are acting awfully like November as of late. it's not that i don't like November, it's just that she's so cold and bitter sometimes. please don't forsake your goodnatured smile and trade it in for cloudy thinking and the thick fog of uncertainty.) and they are doing major construction on my street. i woke up at eight. promise! so instead of running i stretched and did some crunches. even though stretching felt so great i could have ended there.

i love fruit smoothies. not shakes because the dairy just feels so heavy in my stomach. so this morning i took strawberries, oranges, a small piece of grapefruit and blended it. and what did i have with my fruit smoothie? a banana of course!

what's better than starting off the morning having fruit with my fruit?

and does anybody remember this hey arnold episode?

i miss well formulated cartoons. nickelodeon hit it's peak in the early 1990's, obviously.