Not All Who Wander Are Lost
Current mood: hopeful
Category: Religion and Philosophy
To: Jesus
From: My heart in a dark time
A Psalm to my LORD based on Psalm 90
"Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God."
You have waited patiently and quietly for my heart and my love since before time began. Planning our love story from start to finish with the same hands that commanded the heavens to open and pour forth your wrath upon the earth in Noah’s time.
The same eyes that cause men to stumble and curse the day they were born look tenderly upon this pale frame with gentle care. The same blazing eyes of passionate anger that could have returned me to dust instead wept for me on the cross as you cried out in your suffering. "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"
Your mighty hand that has destroyed peoples, parted seas and raised the dead to life reaches down to hold mine. To reassure me that everything is going to be ok and show me that I have not been left alone.
Before the stars knew where to stand in the sky, you planned my name, my face, my voice. You breathed your life in to my spirit, started my heart beating and arranged the very hour of my birth into this life, to these parents with this story to tell.
The voice that is the sound of a thousand crashing waves and yet quieter than the pause before waking; the voice that speaks and all obey, that commands life and it is given, the voice that speaks creation and it is realized, is calling my name. It is whispering loving words to a wounded heart and all I can say is...
Thank You.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Nostalgia
Today I cleaned up my old myspace page (that I haven't used in over a year) so that I could cancel my account and came upon some fun posts from of old. I'd like to share them here.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
It needed to be said
Current mood: angry
Category: Blogging
Dear Body
This is mind. Please pull your Psychosomatic S*** together. We have work to do.
Threateningly,
Your Conscious Self
A childlike faith
Current mood: exhausted
So today I found myself in the perplexing act of saying to a very creepy man "It's nice to meet you" when what I really meant to say was "Fuck off!". Naturally this paradox set me to wandering down the now familiar streets of self-hatred, analyzation and rage in which I asked some of the following questions; What in me told me that I had to be nice when I really didn't want to be? and is it really being nice to lie straight out to this man? Is there a way to be honest and polite? Are there circumstances where politeness should not be the priority? How do we discern which situations are which and when and how did I learn to ignore that important all too important intuitive voice that warns me of danger? And then the word learning got me thinking of teaching and teaching made me think of work and then this is where I went next.
Sometimes I wish I was more like my kids. There is absolutely nothing censored about the rage they express at someone taking their toy, or calling them a name or hitting them. If they feel disrespected or threatened they will let you know and they will take action to defend themselves. That could mean kicking you in the shins, throwing wooden a block at your head or biting your face. Their temper tantrums are also awe inspiring to watch. How could someone so small and in existance for such a short time express that much emotion and sustain it at such intensity for such an extended amount of time?
Now, the adult and P.C. LN side agrees with you that this is unacceptable behavior. But there is also a quieter and often overlooked side of myself that mourns everytime I tell one of these children to use their nice words (ie Nice to meet you) or be nice to everyone (what about people who are hurting you?) or to never tell their teacher no (what if someday down the road their teacher or someone else in authority abuses them? Have I helped lay the groundwork for them to be afraid to speak up or tell them to stop). I grieve that perhaps I am teaching these kids the same damaging habit of supressing their very real and legitimate feelings that I am now trying so hard to unlearn. It's one thing to teach those principles to an adult with a developed moral schema who can determine when and how to apply said principles (yeah right) as well as figure out in what cases exceptions to the rule will need to be made. It's another matter all together for me the push these absolutes on toddlers who are so young and impressionable and trusting. Yet it's all I know. So I trudge on and think to myself "sometimes I wish I were 2 again".
The way they express themselves might not always be pretty but at least it's honest. And it's only when we are truely honest about who we are and what we feel that we can make any move toward goodness.
LN the Felon
Current mood: indescribable
Category: Life
A definition from Dictionary.com
Fel•on1 [fel-uhn] -noun-
1. Law. a person who has committed a felony.
2. Archaic. a wicked person.
–adjective
3. Archaic. wicked; malicious; treacherous.
I always suspected this nickname to be fitting for me but now I have proof.
At roughly 6:15pm on Wednesday December 27, 2006 two police officers arrrived at my parents' home hoping to take me in for a recent purse robbery. My darling mother answered the door and then, understandably shaken, came to find me in the back room where I was wrapping some late Christmas presents. "LN, two policmen are here with some pictures of you at a gas pump and they'd like to talk to you."
Needless to say I was more than a little confused. Especially because I did not remember having gone to a gas station that day.
I was correct in thinking that I had not been to buy gas. The pictures were from a security camera at a local carwash where I had stopped to vacuum out my car earlier that day. It was an anticipatory attempt to avoid embarassment later in the evening when I would be going out with an attractive, older, longtime guy friend.
Unfortunately for me, the camera angle, while catching my license plate with perfect clarity, was unable to catch any activity that occured to the west side of the vaccuum machine where a stolen purse had been dumped and later recovered. So while I was innocently throwing away trash out of my vehicle I came off as a jerk teenager dumping a purse that had been reported stolen earlier.
Fortunately for me, I did not steal the purse and was therefore able to answer the officers' questions and they did not cart me away to jail.
I remembered seeing the purse, was able to describe it and also explain my behavior on the tape (I was throwing away trash not stashing or handling the purse and my suspicious move from one side of the machine to the other turned out to be a move of convenience so that the dirtier side of my car was easier to vacuum out.). However, I really think it wasn't until they discovered the fact that I was at a movie with my sister when the robbery occured that they were finally convinced that I wasn't who they were looking for.
Moral of the story: Even our most seemingly insignificant actions have grand consequences. Who would have supposed that vacuuming my car could have gotten me mixed up in a crime or that watching a movie with my sister would have proven my innocence?
In such moments of realization I am awed by the need for grace and overwhelmingly grateful for it in my life.
Does This Child Belong to You?
Current mood: crazy
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
We have a policy at my job (a very good policy) that requires us to check the picture ID of anyone we have not personally met that comes to pick up a child. Most of the time this takes about two minutes and is only mildly annoying for parents and slightly uncomfortable for teachers. I had quite a different exprience the other day.
During nap time on the last day before Christmas break a strange man enters my room and informs me he's here to pick up Susie *(note here that names have been changed for confidentiality purposes). I think to myself "That's wierd. Susie's mom is a widow and as far as I know there are no men in her life." but what I said outloud and a little less charitably than I meant it was "I've never seen you before. I'm going to have to ask you for picture ID".
At this point he begins to look a little nervous and tells me that he left his ID in the car and asks if he can use his pay stub with his name on it instead. I glance at the sheet to catch his name- Bob- and then shoot him a withering glare before sending him to his car to get picture ID.
I make good use of the time he is away to check Susie's file. I find that there is no Bob listed on the pick up list. I pause here to fight down a wave of nausea. It doesn't pass but I decide to proceed anyway since Bob will be back any minute and I need to call Mom first.
So I call Susie's mom, Molly* and inform her "There's a Bob here to pick up Susie. Did you send him?". To which mom replies,"uh... no. I don't know anyone named Bob." I begin to feel really ill and mumble something incoherent to Mom in an attempt to rassure her that I will handle the situation; all the while I'm imagining Bob returning armed and crazy. I'm wondering if I have the strength of character to fight him off. "Who tries to steal little children anyway?" I indignantly ask, finally getting some anger worked up.
Bob returns. I check his ID. He really is Bob. I tell him he's not on the pick up list and that I've already talked to Susie's Mom Molly and she'll be the one picking her up.He looks disgruntled and confused and asks "You talked to who?"
Suddenly, it dawns on me. Bob's last name looks very familiar...infact, I remember seeing it on a DIFFERENT classroom list. I decide to proceed with caution incase my hunch is wrong.
"Which Susie is it that you are here to pick up?" My voice trembles as I ask. "Susie Smith" he answers and I about pass out with shame and embarrassment. "Susie Smith is in Miss R's class across the hall." I then explain that we also have a Susie in our class which is why I was confused. I apologize profusely and then make the even more embarassing phone call to Susie's mom to explain the mix up and assure her that there is no strange man is trying to kindnap her child.
"Way to be paranoid." I lecture myself grateful that things got sorted out while I head up to the break room for a much needed chocolate break.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
It needed to be said
Current mood: angry
Category: Blogging
Dear Body
This is mind. Please pull your Psychosomatic S*** together. We have work to do.
Threateningly,
Your Conscious Self
A childlike faith
Current mood: exhausted
So today I found myself in the perplexing act of saying to a very creepy man "It's nice to meet you" when what I really meant to say was "Fuck off!". Naturally this paradox set me to wandering down the now familiar streets of self-hatred, analyzation and rage in which I asked some of the following questions; What in me told me that I had to be nice when I really didn't want to be? and is it really being nice to lie straight out to this man? Is there a way to be honest and polite? Are there circumstances where politeness should not be the priority? How do we discern which situations are which and when and how did I learn to ignore that important all too important intuitive voice that warns me of danger? And then the word learning got me thinking of teaching and teaching made me think of work and then this is where I went next.
Sometimes I wish I was more like my kids. There is absolutely nothing censored about the rage they express at someone taking their toy, or calling them a name or hitting them. If they feel disrespected or threatened they will let you know and they will take action to defend themselves. That could mean kicking you in the shins, throwing wooden a block at your head or biting your face. Their temper tantrums are also awe inspiring to watch. How could someone so small and in existance for such a short time express that much emotion and sustain it at such intensity for such an extended amount of time?
Now, the adult and P.C. LN side agrees with you that this is unacceptable behavior. But there is also a quieter and often overlooked side of myself that mourns everytime I tell one of these children to use their nice words (ie Nice to meet you) or be nice to everyone (what about people who are hurting you?) or to never tell their teacher no (what if someday down the road their teacher or someone else in authority abuses them? Have I helped lay the groundwork for them to be afraid to speak up or tell them to stop). I grieve that perhaps I am teaching these kids the same damaging habit of supressing their very real and legitimate feelings that I am now trying so hard to unlearn. It's one thing to teach those principles to an adult with a developed moral schema who can determine when and how to apply said principles (yeah right) as well as figure out in what cases exceptions to the rule will need to be made. It's another matter all together for me the push these absolutes on toddlers who are so young and impressionable and trusting. Yet it's all I know. So I trudge on and think to myself "sometimes I wish I were 2 again".
The way they express themselves might not always be pretty but at least it's honest. And it's only when we are truely honest about who we are and what we feel that we can make any move toward goodness.
LN the Felon
Current mood: indescribable
Category: Life
A definition from Dictionary.com
Fel•on1 [fel-uhn] -noun-
1. Law. a person who has committed a felony.
2. Archaic. a wicked person.
–adjective
3. Archaic. wicked; malicious; treacherous.
I always suspected this nickname to be fitting for me but now I have proof.
At roughly 6:15pm on Wednesday December 27, 2006 two police officers arrrived at my parents' home hoping to take me in for a recent purse robbery. My darling mother answered the door and then, understandably shaken, came to find me in the back room where I was wrapping some late Christmas presents. "LN, two policmen are here with some pictures of you at a gas pump and they'd like to talk to you."
Needless to say I was more than a little confused. Especially because I did not remember having gone to a gas station that day.
I was correct in thinking that I had not been to buy gas. The pictures were from a security camera at a local carwash where I had stopped to vacuum out my car earlier that day. It was an anticipatory attempt to avoid embarassment later in the evening when I would be going out with an attractive, older, longtime guy friend.
Unfortunately for me, the camera angle, while catching my license plate with perfect clarity, was unable to catch any activity that occured to the west side of the vaccuum machine where a stolen purse had been dumped and later recovered. So while I was innocently throwing away trash out of my vehicle I came off as a jerk teenager dumping a purse that had been reported stolen earlier.
Fortunately for me, I did not steal the purse and was therefore able to answer the officers' questions and they did not cart me away to jail.
I remembered seeing the purse, was able to describe it and also explain my behavior on the tape (I was throwing away trash not stashing or handling the purse and my suspicious move from one side of the machine to the other turned out to be a move of convenience so that the dirtier side of my car was easier to vacuum out.). However, I really think it wasn't until they discovered the fact that I was at a movie with my sister when the robbery occured that they were finally convinced that I wasn't who they were looking for.
Moral of the story: Even our most seemingly insignificant actions have grand consequences. Who would have supposed that vacuuming my car could have gotten me mixed up in a crime or that watching a movie with my sister would have proven my innocence?
In such moments of realization I am awed by the need for grace and overwhelmingly grateful for it in my life.
Does This Child Belong to You?
Current mood: crazy
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
We have a policy at my job (a very good policy) that requires us to check the picture ID of anyone we have not personally met that comes to pick up a child. Most of the time this takes about two minutes and is only mildly annoying for parents and slightly uncomfortable for teachers. I had quite a different exprience the other day.
During nap time on the last day before Christmas break a strange man enters my room and informs me he's here to pick up Susie *(note here that names have been changed for confidentiality purposes). I think to myself "That's wierd. Susie's mom is a widow and as far as I know there are no men in her life." but what I said outloud and a little less charitably than I meant it was "I've never seen you before. I'm going to have to ask you for picture ID".
At this point he begins to look a little nervous and tells me that he left his ID in the car and asks if he can use his pay stub with his name on it instead. I glance at the sheet to catch his name- Bob- and then shoot him a withering glare before sending him to his car to get picture ID.
I make good use of the time he is away to check Susie's file. I find that there is no Bob listed on the pick up list. I pause here to fight down a wave of nausea. It doesn't pass but I decide to proceed anyway since Bob will be back any minute and I need to call Mom first.
So I call Susie's mom, Molly* and inform her "There's a Bob here to pick up Susie. Did you send him?". To which mom replies,"uh... no. I don't know anyone named Bob." I begin to feel really ill and mumble something incoherent to Mom in an attempt to rassure her that I will handle the situation; all the while I'm imagining Bob returning armed and crazy. I'm wondering if I have the strength of character to fight him off. "Who tries to steal little children anyway?" I indignantly ask, finally getting some anger worked up.
Bob returns. I check his ID. He really is Bob. I tell him he's not on the pick up list and that I've already talked to Susie's Mom Molly and she'll be the one picking her up.He looks disgruntled and confused and asks "You talked to who?"
Suddenly, it dawns on me. Bob's last name looks very familiar...infact, I remember seeing it on a DIFFERENT classroom list. I decide to proceed with caution incase my hunch is wrong.
"Which Susie is it that you are here to pick up?" My voice trembles as I ask. "Susie Smith" he answers and I about pass out with shame and embarrassment. "Susie Smith is in Miss R's class across the hall." I then explain that we also have a Susie in our class which is why I was confused. I apologize profusely and then make the even more embarassing phone call to Susie's mom to explain the mix up and assure her that there is no strange man is trying to kindnap her child.
"Way to be paranoid." I lecture myself grateful that things got sorted out while I head up to the break room for a much needed chocolate break.
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