i've been asked to write a short blurb about my lovely friend michelle...one that captures her love of beauty and art. yet i sit here, with a head full of words, and seemingly nothing to say. i'm reminded of Bukowski who so eloquently states that writing should never be forced. i couldn't agree more. that same notion applies to all art though as when it is something not derived from the heart it's rather meaningless. the true beauty of art lies in the love, the heart, and the soul it takes to create it. Bukowski said with regards to writing "If you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, then do something else." Michelle waited, and my oh my did things come roaring out of her. Zeal for life, love of beauty, compassion for mankind, and unwavering peace. These are things that her art displays with big, bold paintings in fantastic colors. Each brush stroke a way to share her passion with the rest of us who maybe couldn't come to it quite on our own.

it's strange sometimes the realizations you have in a seemingly random moment. i don't think they're random at all though. i think we know the answer all along, it's just in a moment that we choose to recognize it. in my own life i think this is true anyway. the answers often are there, right in front of me, but instead of looking directly in the looking glass, i try to peer through it and make things what they aren't. like alice, i'd rather slide down in the rabbit hole. it's funny, tonight brittney said,"you like nothing more than to get lost by yourself." i hadn't thought of it that way before, but she's right. even if getting lost means nothing more than roaming around the mall alone, looking at the pretty things and watching all the people. i like the aloneness. i relish my quiet solitude, even if it's found in the middle of Manhattan. i am alone, and there is peace and independence in that. sometimes i want to share the joy i find in those times with others, but i'm afraid it would be lost on them, as the fun of something like a football game is wasted on me. so that may be my answer...my beloved solitude

because i stand on the periphery means i love no less than another. i just do so quietly, and in my own way. still my heart is heavy, and my soul is weak with sorrow. i cannot verbally depict the sentiments that overwhelm my heart. waves of sorrow wash over me, yet all i can visualize is Michelle's beautiful smile that could light up the world. i can see her dancing and hear her laughing. i can remember her soft and pensive advice when we discussed our lives. i can see the joy in her eyes and hear the delight in her voice over nothing more than a normal Monday afternoon lunch. This girl lived life. She showed us all how to do it the right way. She enjoyed every moment and lived in the here and now. She adored every single one of us, each in our own way. she loved us so well, the weak, the faint of heart, the weary, the down-trodden. Michelle was like no other. Truly she loved as Christ loved. God bless you Michelle, and thank you. I am touched by your life every day, and always I will carry you with me. You have left the most lovely legacy. You have loved well.

home...not necessarily a geography exactly. not quite a specific person. no i think it's that overwhelming sense of peace, the sort where at last, your soul is at rest. when i feel a wash of quiet bliss, a transcendent peace, and a wide-eyed wonder...i know i am home. for me, that is largely a specific geography...my mountains in north carolina. there i can sit and simply be in awe of splendor and beauty surrounding me. i can turn off all the whirlwind thoughts. i can simply be. it is there, nestled in those grand and rocky crags that i know all is well and right with the world, even if but for just a moment. it is there that i can be free from all encumbrances of the everyday. life is not weighty or complicated there sitting by a blazing fire looking out over the rolling hills speckled with trees. there all my worries are washed away by the sound of the waterfall tumbling down the smooth, time worn rocks and boulders. there i have found my home.

Lately I've been considering the idea of being "right". Not that I'm against being right, regardless of a given situation, in fact, I yearn to be right, and often find that I am precisely that...right. But at what cost? What is it worth to be right? The more I think about it, the less I think being right is really all it's cracked up to be. Maybe I've become a bit of a pacifist over the years. Or perhaps I simply no longer see the value in fighting an uphill battle. I'm not entirely certain to be honest, but I have come to a firm understanding that being right most often comes at a cost. Now maybe it costs me personally very little. But what does it cost the other person? Or actually, what might being right cost me on a personal level? Recently I've seen how being right in an argument or dispute costs people greatly. They lose sight of their character and integrity quite expediently. Suddenly all notions of a moral compass are gone as quickly as dandelion seeds blow in the wind. And with that...all is lost. Being right immediately loses all value. Yes, certainly, in a very superficial, fleeting way perhaps being right has some merit...some worth, but in the long run, when character and integrity are lost, the value of being right is less than nothing. I have closely watched the actions of those in authority over me in the passing weeks and months and have been met with little more than extreme disappointment and frustration. While I'm well aware that at times people get angry and frustrated and often it is difficult to refrain from allowing emotions to take over, I have, much to my dismay, been witness to complete disregard for others, total disrespect, immaturity, and an utter loss of character and integrity. Sadly I must admit people on my own team have acted in these ways, and truly it is nothing short of humiliating. I am horrified at the way my coworkers have treated others with such utter disregard for given trades and with a complete lack of understanding for the work that must be complete. To my horror, people have been cursed out and bad mouthed, and when the recipients of such behavior have apologized for the part they played in the act, they were met with nothing more than a callous "OK"...not even an "I'm sorry too." But this is the way of the world in which we live. As sad as it may be, this is the rule, not the exception. But I then think back to St. Francis of Assisi and his wise words to preach the gospel always, and only when necessary to speak words. So I shall continue to go about the business of life and do my best to maintain a calm spirit and to react with kindness, compassion, respect, and understanding. I'll choose this because if being right costs me my integrity, then I'd rather be wrong.

$4.96

At church Sunday Kris encouraged us to feast over the next 50 days...the Great 50 Days to be exact, those following Easter. That's a lovely idea in theory, but what if you were unable to feast? What if you simply did not have the means to participate in this joyous celebration?

This morning on my way to work, I had to stop and get gas. I was initially in a bit of a hurry, and my mind was racing to remember everything I had to do during the day. I stopped at a gas station in my neighborhood, and as I got out of the car to pump my gas I couldn't help but think "ugh, I hope no one asks me for money", which, in my neighborhood is a fairly common occurrence. Sure enough though, as soon as I got out of my car, a gentleman walked up to me and asked for cash. "sir, I'm sorry, but I don't have any cash." which to be fair, i didn't have any. He held out his hands, filled with a few Starlite mints and pocket lint and said "but this is my breakfast. Please will you buy me something to eat? I'll pump your gas for you." How's that for a humbling Wednesday morning?

I finished pumping my gas and took the man inside to get something for breakfast. His request wasn't extravagant by any means. He wanted 2 hot dogs, 2 bags of chips, and a can of soda. This was his feast. It was a grand total of $4.96. I still have the receipt. It's a good reminder of humility, compassion, and kindness.

I sit here in my warm, cozy bed with a hot cup of coffee and the freedom to go anywhere I'd like to eat whatever I choose should I so desire. I can feast as little or as much as I want to, yet this man...his feast is worth more to me than most any other. I learned so much from such a brief exchange, the least of the lessons being that a feast can cost as little as $4.96

it's Easter today, and up until this point i was filled with a great joy far beyond anything that could be manufactured on this earth. there was a fullness there, a wholly enveloping gladness and peace, and thankfulness beyond compare. my heart was filled with all of this, right up until the point when i saw a dear and beloved friend choosing to willfully hurt himself. yes that's a redundant statement. that's the point.
i'm more than willing to grant mercy and grace and even extensive compassion and understanding when people are dealing with some difficult issue. i get it. really. i've had more than my fair share to deal with honestly. yet it never ceases to quite simply break my heart and truly sadden me and break my heart to see people i love inflict pain or maladies upon themselves.
i wonder if this is part of the suffering that we're called to endure as Christians. i doubt it though. but then i think perhaps it is part of learning discipline. perhaps that is more likely. i don't say any of this out of judgment. Lord knows i've dipped into plenty of untoward substances and activities. in fact that may be quite precisely why it saddens me so to see others make the same mistakes i did in the past.
i want to shake these people and walk them through my life so they see what i see. i want them to know the pain that i've known and to realize the impact of their actions. and this is the hardest part...to let them learn on their own and to walk away without a word or thought about it all. because i value relationships so very much, that i just cannot do. and therein lies my heartache...behind the thick walls and stone cold countenance...there the tears fall as i see my friends doing nothing more than causing their own pain.

recently the question was posed about what sort guy i'd go on a date with should he actually have the nerve to ask. that was followed by a point about whether or not the aforementioned guy would have to meet a certain standard or list of criteria. that made me start thinking...what would i put on that list?
i know a lot of people have a very clear cut image of the person they are seeking-much like how most little girls know every detail of their dream wedding prior to age 10. i was never that little girl though. i've never been much of a planner. i'm definitely the proverbial "fly by the seat of your pants" sort of girl, which is okay with me. i see no need to change as i enjoy living my life this way.
but back to this list. i suppose if i had to name specific attributes i'd start with character and integrity. if i were looking for someone, i'd want that person to choose to do the right thing simply because it is in fact the right thing, not because of any sort of acclaim that may come with it, and certainly not because he might feel compelled to do so because others may be watching. i want this theoretical man to do what's right for no other reason than he knows there is no other option.
i want him to be humble. now i don't mean that to read self-deprecating. that's wholly different. i mean that he is not proud or boastful. he puts others far ahead of himself regardless of the cost. he sees self sacrifice as an obvious response to the needs of others because relationships are worth more to him than anything else imaginable. that sort of humility.
hmm...i want him to be kind and gentle, but not so gentle that he's emasculated. gentle with his words because he knows the damage they can do, and kind and merciful in spirit. additionally, i hope he has the patience and wisdom to exercise enormous amounts of grace because God knows i need it.
then on the flip side, i want him to be fun. i want him to have as much zeal for life as i do. i want him to see an adventure in everyday events, and always seek reasons to celebrate. we have one life to live, and i want to live it fully. i don't want to drag around someone who lives vicariously through me. i want him to have his own adventures and stories to tell...and somehow, somewhere along the way our stories can merge.
and i want him to love me. not the novel idea of me, but actually me, with all of my quirks and idiosyncrasies, not despite them, but because of them. i want him to be secure enough to allow me to retain the freedom of being me. which, believe me, i realize that's actually asking for a lot. in turn though, i'd gladly give him the same respect.
lastly, just because i'm terrible with finance, i really need him to be great at it. i can manage fine on my own, but if a family were ever involved, it's all him. i'm glad to relinquish that right.
so that's my list. it sounds simple, but in practice it seems to be quite difficult really. people are tricky too. you have to watch them. at first, a lot of men appear to exhibit these qualities, but it's a facade they put up to try to bag the girl. not to say that girls don't play the same coy games, but the one i want...he won't play any games. he'll shoot straight and be honest to the point it hurts. he won't have to tell me how great he is or how he could fabricate some great relationship with me or anyone else. he won't romance me with silly flowers and gifts because he'll know those things are fleeting. he'll simply be. his actions will speak volumes, and he won't require so many words.

thoughts from the mountain

home is an idea that is incredibly important to me. i'm not sure if it's because i'm deeply relational, or that i yearn for a sense of belonging somewhere. either way, i long for that peace of finding a place to call home.
for the longest time i was certain i'd never feel at home and feel settled unless i moved to NYC. i spent days dreaming of the life i might lead there. now though, looking back over the years, i wonder if perhaps that wasn't because i somehow thought i could hide my past and all of my issues tied to it in the midst of the hustle and bustle and sights and sounds of the city.
when i drove up to NC the other day in the cool, overcast, perfect Ali weather, winding around the curves that snake their way through the Nantahala and past the Cullasaja, the craggy cliffs looming both above and below me, then i knew the mountains will always have my heart, and thus always be my home.
it isn't the mass of rock and stone that holds my heart so closely. no, it's the serene quiet, the peace, and the overwhelming beauty that allows me to settle in and be at rest. just sitting on the deck overlooking the rolling field, in the still quiet of the rainy morning, i am cozy despite the chill in the air. i feel as though i'm enshrouded in a deep, peaceful respite, on that has a slow rolling cadence like a low rumble of thunder.
i can see the thick, grey clouds hanging on the mountain tops. the muted color is broken up ever so slightly by hills dappled with the first greens of spring. in the distance i can hear the waterfall rushing over the smooth, old, worn rocks. the damp breeze gently blows across my face like a gentle kiss. this, yes this, is home.

I have this box of memories that i keep tucked away under my bed. within the pastel colored cardboard confines of this otherwise uninteresting box are years of my life, and moments once forgotten, but always treasured.
you see this box has a card that my dad sent to me one year with flowers for Valentine's Day. Since then, I've received flowers on Valentine's a handful of times, but never have they meant as much as that single little card. Then there is a racquetball that I've kept for years just so I can remember my dad running around and enjoying life. There are pictures of course and some of his old cards from auto auctions. I kept this "fancy" wooden pen set he had at his desk at his dealership. I even have notepaper with old memories written down in my childish handwriting as an attempt to hold on to him forever. Then there is an old birthday card upon which he wrote a reminder to me to never forget him. certainly not the least of all these things is his Bible, well worn as his long, thin fingers used to so often flip through the pages. There are silly pictures he let me draw in the back cover of his Bible, and the front is filled with Bible verse I wrote in there as a child. And then tucked away in Isaiah, my dad's favorite book of the Bible, is a stack of his notes neatly folded, waiting on someone to come back and read them again one day.
these things are not easy to sort through, yet i'll never get rid of them no matter how many times i move and throw things out. these things i will treasure always. but as i flip through the cards and papers, i'm struck by my dad telling me to never forget him. truly i am saddened because i did not ever forget him, but for such a long time, i forgot all he taught me. i can only imagine how disappointed he might have been and how hurt.
these days though as time moves forward and i come back to what i knew all along, i am hopeful to not forget again. i am learning to wait patiently, to come to my own understanding, and to operate out of grace, mercy, and forgiveness. i have learned my lesson. hopefully in the future reminders of my dad will not be met with remorse, but with joy for knowing he would be proud.

i'm not much of one for fabricated emotion. i don't fall for romance. i've been chauffeured about in bentley's and the like. i've been the recipient of sycophantic flattery. i've had my share of flowers and fancy dates. i'm phased by none of it. i simply don't think it's real. i'm so much happier, delighted even, by completely direct honesty and quality time and conversation shared over something as simple as a cup of coffee. i just don't go for the hollywood version of love. i want something real.

but this is where, for so long, i've had such difficulty with the church. for years i've thought of church as well, to borrow a term from a friend, a "god mart" of sorts. everything is produced. the lights, cameras, music, videos, etc. i felt as though there was a copious amount of meaningless pageantry, but as long as you showed up wearing the right pair of jeans, you were in the right spot.

that kind of thing just isn't my scene. i remember the days when i was consumed by what i was wearing and what i looked like. now though, i'm doing really well to actually run a brush through my hair. appearances just aren't high on my list of priorities. the thing about is though, Jesus wasn't too concerned about them either.

no, in fact Jesus admonished those who did good deeds only for the notoriety. quite the opposite really. he instead revered those who quietly performed charitable and honorable acts. those are the people, the ones who didn't care how they appeared to others who were the most Christlike. that's one of the things i'm fond of in regards to Jesus and how he perceived people.

but in the church, there is all this show. it's loud, sometimes even abrasive and almost garish at times. all the sights and sounds elicit these overwhelming emotions of sorrow, remorse, joy, or even grief or guilt. recently though i read a book that talked about the history behind a large portion of religious traditions. i gained a new respect for them...the meaningful customary ones though, not the silly rock concerts churches try to have each week. i can appreciate that in large part people took part in traditions to separate themselves as a nation, and to form an identity. isn't that what we all want? to be identified in some deep and meaningful way? to belong to a group? and to have a purpose?

i paint so people ask if i'm an artist. i love music so people assume i love musicians (which to be fair, i used to but learned my lesson.) i work in project management yet i don't find an identity there, nor is it in my friends or anything else like that. no, i've learned that behind all these customs and traditions is an identity rooted in Jesus Christ. and that is where i'm learning to find my identity as well. not in works or appearances or societal classes, but in the one who went against the grain and treated people well, with kindness, love, and respect.

the more i sit and quietly watch, the more in awe i become of it all. i remember not long ago sitting in the midst of all these people and being either very irritated, or else thinking they were just flat out ridiculous for their silly piety and lack of reason and logic.
now? well now i can hardly take my eyes off of each of their lovely faces. brown eyes, green, blue, and grey. blonde, brunette, and fiery red hair. tall and short, slender and stout. each and every one beautiful in his or her own way. and the most beautiful part of it all? the fact that all of these individual people are able to come together peacefully and share a unified belief in a God of grace, mercy, and love.
every Sunday i watch each person walk forward to take communion. i'm truly struck by the profound nature of this act. not merely the taking of bread and drinking of wine, but by the unity exemplified by this action. i'm not skilled in estimating numbers much of any sort, but i'd guess there are several hundred people who come forth just during one service on a sunday. where else can you find so many different personalities, ideologies, philosophies, and walks of life come together in peaceful harmony? sure, there may be discrepancies over politics and societal issues. of course not everyone agrees on all aspects even of the bible; however, they can all stand and say they believe in a God who saves. a God who grants grace and mercy freely, and a God whose love endures forever. that alone is pretty compelling argument i think.
i know i should sit with my eyes closed and pray during communion, but really, i just tear my eyes away from that beautiful vision. it's similar to walking into a museum and being overcome by the astounding work of a brilliant artist, yet this is far more tangible. it is real. this isn't something fabricated.
maybe one day i'll stop watching, but i hope not. i hope to never grow hardened or apathetic to such a remarkable event. i hope to always find it as overwhelming, awe-inspiring, and all encompassing as i do a deep melodious song or a hauntingly emotional painting.

one of the things that has helped me come to a new understanding is the following quote from Bishop N.T. Wright...
"The arts are not the pretty but irrelevant bits around the border of reality. They are highways into the center of a reality which cannot be glimpsed, let alone grasped, any other way. The present world is good, but broken and in any case incomplete; art of all kinds enables us to understand that paradox in its many dimensions."
Additionally he states that, "It is central to Christian living that we should celebrate the goodness of creation, ponder its present brokenness, and, insofar as we can, celebrate in advance the healing of the world, the new creation itself. Art, music, literature, dance, theater, and many other expressions of human delight and wisdom can all be explored in new ways."
what an inspiring notion. i shall follow his lead :)

i've been learning a lot lately, about humility, beauty, history, relationships...the list goes on, and in the end, all roads lead back what i've been searching for all along-the freedom to live my life, ask my questions, pursue beauty, and to love. and to my own awe and delight, it seems perhaps i've found it. yes, my questions will go on for the rest of my life. i'm a curious girl. i like to ponder ideas and concepts and explore alternative ways of thinking. i believe there is much to be learned in doing so. but i can sit here now and write this because i finally laid down my sword; laid it down and walked far away from it. i learned to choose my battles and that fighting against a God who would create such lovely people, such intriguing history, and beautiful sounds and sights to behold, just isn't worth it. i ran and fought for too long. i hope to let go of all i've kept so close and tight that has prohibited me from experiencing this freedom to the fullest extent. i am glad to find a place to belong and to learn along side such loving, compassionate, wise, and brilliant people. some may call it good fortune. i don't think so though. i think it was the strategy all along. i was just too prideful and self-absorbed to realize it.
i am a quick study. once i learn something, i get it. i may not always be able to describe it verbally, but in my own mind and heart it clicks. such is the case with this. there are no words that i know to clearly describe what i've learned, the understanding i've gained, but it is there. locked in. i get it. so thank you to you all who have walked alongside me, patiently waiting, letting me fight, and letting me come to my own terms with this all. your patience and love have played an insurmountable role in my experience thus far, and i look forward to continue learning with you all.

More and more lately I keep coming to the realization that, well...i'm an asshole. i am impatient to no end. and yes, i see the irony in that phrase. i am rarely very mindful of how my actions can affect others as i fully operate under the assumption that the world is in fact my oyster and i'll do as i please. that being said, i'm selfish. i am horribly intolerant of others and lack the understanding to give people grace and mercy for where they are in their lives when it doesn't match up to my expectations. i generally say what i please when i please with little concern for whether or not it may hurt someone's feelings, and if it does, i have no frame of reference as to why.

these ultimately are actions. those actions though are indicative of something greater, the state of my heart. as i left small group tonight, my initial reaction was one of disdain and really discomfort. of course i then thought "i came and tried it and that's that. i'm out." well again, i'll reiterate, i'm an asshole. the girls in that group are lovely and welcoming, warm and hospitable, kind and compassionate. and yet i somehow derive from all those amazing attributes that i'm far above this little weekly meeting. ahh this pride of mine. i thought for so long that it served me well, and yet i see now how instead it has become the master and not me.

i see that humility and peace are the things i should seek in my pursuit of God. i don't mean that sort of false humility either that more so resembles self deprecation. i mean sincere and honest humility. i mean a peace that requires me to shut my mouth and listen instead of asking questions; to break down the barricades that i thought so strategically guarded my heart. to be still and patient. to learn kindness and compassion. yes, these are the things i need to learn. not because i'm too hard on myself, but because i'd rather be honest and address the root of the problem instead of pretending it isn't there at all

someone recently mentioned being shocked that i have time for my art, whether it's writing or painting. i realize i'm generally incredibly busy, to the point that i'm not fond of it myself. however, i make time for those things that are important to me.
as i've begun to immerse myself back into church, i've forced myself to get involved and meet people and essentially make a new life. i'm engaging with people that before, i'd probably never even noticed. i am pursuing relationships that in the past would have eluded me much to my pleasure.
here i sit now though, tired, but delighted to have all of these new ventures before me. why? well, it's way out of reach from my comfort zone. that alone is a good thing. more importantly though, these people can help me see the things i've been longing for over the past years. they will sit and talk through my questions with me. they will earnestly pray for me, not to change who i am, but to help me understand and come to live a life of fullness and freedom. it isn't far off i know. i can see the chinks in my armor. i can feel the weight of the world slowly falling off my shoulders. no longer do i feel the need to simply shrug in order to bear the weight of a single day.
so here i am in pursuit of something more. desiring peace, compassion, and agape love. i am overwhelmed by the mercy and grace shown to me. i can see it clearly. for so long i've thought i'm just one of those people who endears herself to others in such a way that they feel compelled to grant me favor, but no, that is mercy...undeserved and unwarranted favor...granted upon me by a God who looks out for me even when i'm in the midst of a storm--even when that storm seems to never end.
the older i get though, the more i like, and even embrace those storms. it's the ebbs, not the flows, of life that are so lovely. the downs are the times when your character is developed and tested. the ups...not so much. it is for that reason that i prefer the sour to the sweet. i stand by the notion too that you can't have the sweet without the sour. well said Jason Lee. hopefully you all realize that's a reference to the movie vanilla sky :)

anyway, as time passes, i'm slowly coming around. the cold, hard steel that once surrounded my heart is melting away with the warmth of love provided by the body of christ...a body that spans as far as the east is from the west.

is there a yardstick of sorts by which one's goodness is measured? is it fair to say we cannot have this relationship because i see you have work yet to do? isn't the nature of a relationship designed to be something that allows for each party to work toward a greater goal all while having the support of another?
so when do you know when you are good enough? what is the gauge...the measure? how will i know when i've achieved this lofty goal if i have no frame of reference for what the goal is, much less how to achieve it?
might it be better to simply sit still as i am and hold my ground? what if i weren't to change at all? there will never be any sort of extravagant and obvious shape-shifting change. i'll continue to be me. my core will still be based in love, honesty, kindness, and generosity. so what is there to change exactly?
bon iver wrote the most beautiful song. in it he says "i told you to be patient. i told you to be fine. i told you to be balanced, and i told you to be kind. and now all my love is wasted, and who the hell was i?"
might i wind up thinking that same thing? might i waste my time and patience on something fleeting? or am i the one who has a limited time in this relationship? how do you know without pursuing such an endeavor? how can you find out those things from a distance? what do these new relationships look like in a practical sense?

it is for this reason that i can sit and say i have been arrogant, foolish, and prideful. i know i have been wrong, and i am not being dramatic or too hard on myself. i am simply being blunt, honest, and to the point.
it is written:
1 Corinthians 1:18-25

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.


just this past wednesday, let's see, what was that? march 8 i believe. at the prayer service that night, i came to this realization regarding how i have been fighting so hard for so very long. i know i have been intent upon proving everyone wrong. i was so very angry and so very hurt. i wanted nothing to do with dog and pony show. i didn't want to be like those people. and then it hit me. i'm not like those people, and to share this common faith, i still will not become like them. i can be the one who shares this belief and yet isn't like the others. and that katrina my sweet friend, is my goal. i hope to be the one who people see as kind and gentle, compassionate and understanding, loving and generous, wise and hopeful. i pray that i don't become one of those who shuns others, treats people poorly, doesn't listen, and is too arrogant to admit her wrongs. i see how my intelligence is little more than foolish fodder. my questions, while some are valid and worth discussing, others are nothing more than a line of defense.

i don't want to miss it all. i don't want to run anymore, and i am certainly not in this for a fight. i am weary after over a decade of gnashing at the teeth. i welcome this peace and this rest. i won't be foolish enough to turn it away again.

funny how at 1am, even after downing night-time theraflu and having been sick for 4 days i still can't sleep. i even tried watching some mindless movie. still a no go. so as i lay here in the comfort of my bed, wrapped in my piles of blankets and cloud-like pillows, my mind has the freedom to wander.
and so as i sift through my countless thoughts, i land again upon the thought of my lovely and beautiful friend michelle.
you see, michelle was one of those radiant sorts of people who simply drew you into her. you wanted to know everything about her and felt compelled to share your life with her as well. her very nature elicited an urgent desire to do something to bless her for all that she so graciously did for others. often people have said of my dad that when he walked into a room, he was the room. michelle was the same way. not in an arrogant sense as though she demanded attention and respect, but her loving, kind, and beautiful countenance simply commanded it by virtue of it's own nature. michelle's smile quite literally lit up her face, as if the stars themselves were lit by the dancing fire in her eyes. and in all this, i think the most wonderful thing about her is her deep and true sincerity. i know without a doubt that when michelle told me how much she loved me it was as real as the day is long. there was never even a hint of some superficial, careless word to come out of that girl's mouth. she spoke with great care and consideration, always conscious of the impact her words would make upon the person to whom she was speaking. even in hard conversations though, michelle always would encourage you, never choosing to belittle or berate a person for his or her choice. her approach was always one of kindness and compassion.

now i sit here thinking too about how much michelle loved Jesus and the church. and then think back upon all i learned growing up from parents who felt the same. i wonder if perhaps now michelle and my dad are sitting there commiserating on how to next put me in some strategic place to bang on my stubborn head a bit more. they'd have fun the two of them, playing their little chess game with my life.

then i wonder, why is it that i am so stubborn and so arrogant? have i missed the point of it all? did everything pass me by while i was up on my mountain looking down at all of this? i've had people tell me before that i have no idea how smart i am. that's not true though. i'm fully aware of it. i just try not to let on. but i have been arrogant about that gift and thought i could use it to figure out all of this. i know full well that i have been blessed an incredible amount intellect and capacity for understanding intricate philosophies and theories. but i have misused that it seems. i have tried my best to use that gift to disprove all of this. to find any and every reason why it just can't be true. and at the end of the day, i'm still left sad, lonely, and empty-handed. there is no grand sense of satisfaction. there isn't a quintessential eureka moment where i prove everyone wrong and walk off laughing at the lot of fools. i am the fool.

i've often said i think prayer is used to manipulate a situation. perhaps intellect is the very same. what is it kris said about things being good slaves but not good masters?

i still don't at all understand a good portion of christian lingo. if you tell me to let go and let god, i have no idea what you mean. i still need very practical applications for these terribly ambiguous ideas, but i am willing to lay down my sword and simply listen now. i am not in this for a fight. in fact, i don't know that i ever have been. i am not trying to question every last bit. i am trying to make some sense of things, but maybe kris was right too when he mentioned not needing to know the answers to it all and being okay with some of the mystery.

i'm not sure if anyone has figured this out yet or not, but i'm a very literal person. i don't always pick up on jokes, particularly via text message as i can't ascertain a person's tone, and i generally assume anything a person says is as matter-of-fact as i am, not figurative at all. this can occasionally pose a problem in conversations or my understanding of a concept. this is particularly true in theology as it is such a vague and vast concept. that being said, when i am told to do something, i genuinely want to do that thing, whatever it may be, to the best of my ability and with a full understanding of that which i am doing.

so last night when we were told a large part of the Lenten season is forgiveness, i began to think about that notion. if you read through the Bible, we are told multiple times to forgive others. that's all well and good, but practically speaking, i have no idea what that means. there is no guidebook for how to do that. people quote quintessential churchy quips like "let go and let god" but really, does anyone have clue what that means in real life??? i certainly don't.

when jesus forgives us, my understanding is that it is the act of cancelling a debt owed to god because of our sin. the same understanding applies to forgiving another person, well sort of. i have a few questions about that.
1. we do not have the power to cancel another's debt before god. to think we do seems nothing short of extreme arrogance
2. even if i had that power, i still don't know what that looks like in my life.


i can sit and talk all day long about how i forgive someone's so called trespasses against me, but i still remember what the person did. i still approach the person cautiously like a child who has been bitten by a dog. so have i really forgiven the person? what is the marker for having completely forgiven someone? and if i forgive someone am i truly tasked with also forgiving the deed that begs forgiveness in the first place?

for years i struggled with the feeling that i was constantly in a state of transition, i didn't have a home exactly, and that i didn't belong anywhere really. it's an uncomfortable feeling, and i sought a sense of significance in an array of places and people. each time i came up empty, feeling more bitter and jaded with every failed venture.

now though, i have immersed myself into this incredible group of people who genuinely love others regardless of circumstance. it's a truly beautiful thing to witness. sometimes i like to just sit quietly and watch all the happenings going on around me. i'm touched when i see hundreds of people come forward to accept the holy sacrament of communion, not necessarily because of the act of taking the bread and dipping it in the wine or grape juice but because of the astounding loveliness of a multitude of people from different walks of life, different ages, different races, coming together to share a unified belief in something far greater than anything this earth can behold. to me, that is simply astounding.

last night i was invited to a prayer and worship service. i had no idea what to expect. in large part i just sat and watched and took in all that was occurring as i was nestled down in my seat in that seemingly grand room that became so small and intimate in that time. the rows of seats were spread wide apart to allow plenty of space for people to move about, but yet, despite physical distance, we all seemed so close to one another. slowly, i let my mind slip away to ponder my own thoughts and secrets. it's funny, every time i go to this church now, i could swear the pastor strategically plans each word of what he says around what is going on in my head. i'm certain it is no coincidence that here in the Lenten season i find myself part of a captive audience of people who love Christ, whereas for years i had been far away from anything even remotely resembling that. so yes kris, when you said during Lent, traditionally people would pray for the wayward souls, you might as well have been telling me that over a cup of coffee.

sometimes i want to run again because i don't want to face all my questions, but that's the easy way out. and just when i think about taking off, something amazing happens, like pastors moving through the crowd, laying hands on each individual person and praying specifically for that person. for a moment i expected to be skipped over when this happened, like i'm still not quite part of all this that's happening, but no. i sat quietly and i too was included in this beautiful act of compassion and love. and then i want to stay awhile, to be part of this thing that is so lovely. and i am tired from running, and fighting is exhausting. so i continue to sit, listen, and watch. then a peace washes over me and i can be still, even if just for a moment or two.

growing up, my mom always told me to have a teachable spirit. of course i mostly thought that applied to a willingness to learn, but as i grow older i see it applies to more than just the world of academia. i see now how this concept is applicable yes intellectually, but more so in my heart.

it's funny sometimes the seemingly unlikely places you learn things about life and about who it is you want to be. rarely do i feel that my day to day life has much of an impact on other people, and so often it seems that there is very little point in what i do. while i am grateful for my job and appreciate it tremendously, it is little more than a means. yes, i will perform any given task to the best of my ability, but in the end, it is simply a paycheck.

today though, i was given the opportunity to do something more with my life than to simply fill out spreadsheets or type up notes. today i was honored to spend my time with a group of delightful men who needed my help, and that of others there with me, to compose resumes. these men were kind, polite, intelligent, patient, and incredibly gracious. i was there to help them, but instead found that they were teaching me. Andre wanted to begin our time together in prayer. Kenneth led us all in a simple and beautiful prayer that truly displayed to me his hope and phenomenal attitude. the collective perspective on life that all of these men shared was mind blowing. they sat and encouraged one another and offered advice to their friends all while having the humility to admit that they also needed help. we were there to serve them, but they were interested in our lives and building relationships with us when it should have been us pursuing them.

a gentleman asked me why i was there. he actually thought i was in high school or maybe college. he assumed i was there only to gain course credit. as i carefully thought how i wanted to answer him though i realized there was little to think about. i was there because jesus would do the same thing. as much as i toil and fight with theology for any number of reasons whether it be my own pride or that i have legitimate questions, i cannot deny that jesus walked this earth and treated people in precisely the way i hope to do as well. in speaking with this man, Michael, i realized a small piece of that shroud that has been so tightly bound around my heart for so many years was torn away. in it's place i found compassion and love and a desire for understanding. i am truly blown away by these men and their character and integrity.

i may have written the resumes, but they in turn changed a life

Mark 8:27-34

this morning at church we were presented with the idea that jesus, the messiah, the savior, the king of the world was burdened with suffering. yes, yes, we all know jesus died on the cross. but kris made a good point when he noted that when peter called jesus "messiah" he had certain expectations that corresponded directly to that notion. It was posited that peter expected jesus, as the messiah, to have some overwhelmingly glorious victory here on earth. i can see that. perhaps it's idealistic of peter to think that, but hey, who doesn't want some unsung hero to come in and just completely obliterate the enemy camp in a burst of flames, an echoing clap of thunder, and an earth-shattering strike of lightning...all made to look like child's play as this revered king rides in upon his steed whose muscles glisten in the shadows of the fire as his nostrils flare, breathing in and out steadily...his very presence emanating an other worldly power? sounds pretty bad ass to me. ryan gosling could totally play that character in a movie.

but that isn't what happened. not at all. the one time jesus rode in anywhere on any sort of a steed, it was a donkey. granted, donkeys have sort of a quaint charm about them, but they by no means exude any sort of grandiose power. they are meek creatures, gentle, and seemingly humble. and that was jesus' preferred mode of transportation when it came time for him to make his debut as the king of the world. why? i have no idea, mostly because he's jesus and i'm not because i definitely would have had him on that horse--hair blowing in the wind, decked out in all sorts of warrior-like finery, barreling onto the scene in a blaze of glory. alas, those are the makings of a fairy tale though, and this story is nothing of the sort.

for whatever reason, jesus up and decided that there would be no blaze of glory, no horse of any kind, and, much to my dismay, no finery of any variety. instead, all of those notions were replaced with one that is completely counter intuitive to any sort of kingship i could ever dream up. jesus opted for suffering. well maybe he didn't exactly "opt" for it, but he accepted it. hell, maybe he even embraced it. i don't know. either way, jesus had a formidable future awaiting him.

my question though is quite simple. Why? why why why was suffering required? why does a "loving god" require pain and sacrifice to follow him? if i love someone, i do not ask that person to sacrifice for my sake. quite the opposite, i sacrifice for the other person, no matter the cost. so why does god ask us to sacrifice for him? why did jesus HAVE to suffer? what father asks his son to endure such excruciating pain? wouldn't a loving father instead do anything in his power to prohibit his children from being hurt? so why god? why? where is the love? why wasn't jesus all decked out and bedazzled with some lovely lady feeding him grapes and another fanning him with a banana leaf? why is it that the most kingly/servant-y event in his life was when mary washed his feet with some oil and perfume? what is there to be learned from having to endure pain in order to follow christ?

I imagine having depth perception is pretty incredible. I have never had it, nor will I ever. I see everything on a flat plane, much like a painting. Intellectually I know that everything has dimension and depth, but I am unable to actually see it. Unless you are like me in this regard, it's a somewhat difficult concept to understand, not because it is a terribly advanced idea but because it is just rather unusual.

When I paint, I have a very difficult time trying to create depth in my art. I struggle with angles and more particularly, I have the most trouble with foreshortening. For anyone who is unfamiliar with the term, foreshortening is a technique used in art to create distance and depth. For example, if I were to draw someone putting his or her hand out, the hand would be drawn larger proportionally to the body to depict it being closer to the person viewing the drawing. To the point, as an object moves away from you, it becomes smaller.

This concept applies to our lives as well. We have these experiences that seem to be nearly catastrophic when we are right in the middle of the storm, but as time passes, those experiences fade into little more than vague memories. They become a tiny dot of paint in what ultimately is a masterpiece quite like Monet's "Waterlilies".

Today I realized that in November it will be five years since I left my ex-husband. FIVE YEARS! I was somewhat shocked at this realization to be honest. I could hardly believe it. In that time so much has changed, all for the better, but it was never an easy road to take. The path was not marked clearly and there were more ebbs and flows than I might have ever thought imaginable had I not lived through it all myself. Today I can sit and write this as I look back on what once was. I vividly remember wrapping myself in blankets to sleep on the floor by the fire because I couldn't afford heat. It wasn't so long ago that the majority of my caloric intake came from a bottle Grey Goose. I can recall going out with a number of different guys searching for validation and significance only to find myself very, very alone and shattered. I remember so well throwing myself 150% into my job, not only out of financial necessity, but because work was the only thing that I could control and that gave me any sense of self-esteem. That storm seemed endless. Every single day for no less than three years was exhausting and filled with turmoil, angst, and sorrow. I remember thinking it would never end and that life would never get easier.

And life will never get easier. That much I know to be true. However, looking back through all I have endured and survived, I know that I have the strength to handle whatever life throws at me. I know now that I can and will get through any and all predicaments that come my way. I have been fortuitous enough to have been blessed with an incredible amount of strength and tenacity, and a spirit that will fight through anything. I choose my battles now more carefully. I seek out peace and often a quiet solitude. But I know now, now that the storm is a small spec of paint in the masterpiece of my life, that I can handle it, whatever it may be.

This is my hope for you all though, that you will have the wisdom to know that whatever may be weighing you down so much now will not last forever, and that you will come out on the other side better for it. You will learn and grow and be amazed at yourself. You will be able to say you have done well and accomplished much. I have no money or worldly success to speak of, but I know that I have in fact succeeded. For those of you in the storm now, wait it out. Soon enough, time will pass and you will be left with a memory.

As I try my best to navigate these uncharted waters and seek out growth, friendship, encouragement, and honesty I'm left to consider largely the issue of my own pride. I have allowed it stand in my way for so long, unwilling to even name it, much less to fight it. Yet in this season of self exploration and a desire to learn and understand, I am determined to replace that pride with humility. For someone who has had to fight a long and arduous war to make it this far, laying aside that line of defense to open myself up and make myself entirely vulnerable is no easy feat. But it is one of a great magnitude. One that I will embrace and push through with tenacity and a steadfast drive that is slow and steady yet determined. I am not one to shy away from a challenge. I do not fear tasks that seem hard and maybe even impossible. I delight in the difficulty of it all for I know in the end I will be better for it.

After a lengthy and enlightening discussion this morning, I can see that I have much yet to do in order to accomplish my goal. To become the person I desire to be I tasked with setting aside my confidence and pride and replacing it with a very real and true humility that will allow others to approach me who maybe wouldn't have in the past. I must learn to become that gentle spirit who deftly moves through the crowd and watches, listens, and learns. I must know that it is not always my time to speak, but that instead I must pay attention to others and hear what they are saying. I have to remember that we aren't all at the same stage in the game, and I cannot lose my patience for those who are unable to meet me in my arena. Instead I must meet them where they are. I cannot respond with this matter-of-fact tone that allows those who are less sure of themselves no freedom to express their own thoughts. I must learn to be slow to respond and temper my replies with compassion and understanding.

I neither think I'm particularly brilliant or unique, but I am aware that I am aged compared to most people my age. Perhaps in part due to circumstance, perhaps a dash of God given wisdom, and may be in part just the good fortune of having the ability to be honest with myself. The combination though has given me a far different frame of reference for life compared to most of my peers. In this time, I will learn to share that knowledge graciously as opposed to using it for my own benefit. That being said, I will also gladly accept insight from others and become teachable and approachable, though I have no idea what that practically looks like.

If you know me at all, I'm certain you are fully aware of my clumsiness. Generally I try to embrace it and hope that it maybe adds to my charm, but in the end it just results in a number of bruises, scratches, broken furniture, you name it.
But now I sit here clumsily fumbling through my own thoughts which are broken, sort of piece-meal really. I'm trying to find the words to say what I think and eloquently fill the page with lovely notions laced together with carefully chosen words that have a soft and peaceful cadence. I'm afraid though that this, in the end will simply result in a jumbled up mess...a lot like my closet.
Regardless, here goes...

I will quite readily admit I am prideful, horribly impatient, insensitive, unintentionally harsh, sometimes lacking compassion, and somewhat assuming. To any of you people who are kind enough to tell me otherwise, it's okay. Really. I don't mind the truth. I'd rather not be naive about it.

In the past, I was able to recognize those issues. I just didn't care. I was mad as hell at the whole world, and about as defensive as I could possibly be. Lately though, in the past year or so, I have come to a place where I see those flaws for what they are...defense mechanisms tied to a dark past, strongholds to what once was, and learned traits rather than something indicative of who I am innately. I have been trying to figure out a way to unlearn these things instead of holding onto them as though they are my safety net. I desire to be kind, slow to anger or irritation, compassionate, loving, peaceful, and helpful. I think the old me exhibits some entirely unattractive attributes that aren't characteristic of the way the real me wants to treat others.

The answer to this I think is love-real honest-to-goodness, old-fashioned, love. Not the silly sort where your heart flutters because the cute guy says hi to you. Not eros love. Not phileo either. I mean agape...that beautiful, all-encompassing, never ending, unconditional, I don't care if you curse, if you sleep with your boyfriend that's fine, I'll hold your hair back when you puke from drinking too much, you had an affair kind of love. The real deal. The one where no matter what people will stand by you, tell you that you screwed up, and they'll help you work it out. That's the sort that will heal the wounds. I don't need someone to tell me I'm pretty or smart or even interesting. Flattery is meaningless. The people I need are the ones who aren't afraid to be honest with me, who aren't trying to win an argument, but who will sit with me and talk and sort it out for hours if that's what it takes.

We all know Michelle died recently. As heartbreaking as that is, I have found this incredible, mind-blowing beauty in her death. The legacy she leaves is amazing. That girl truly is the tie that binds all of these different people together, and through her passing, they have all come together to love each other. And somehow, I have managed to find myself right in middle of it. Luck? Nah. Privilege? Absolutely. I am blown away by these phenomenal people who welcome me into their lives, who reach out to me to love me as I am, and who embrace me just because and expect nothing in return. Thank you to each of you. I have much to learn, and thank you for showing me the real Jesus...not the one I've learned over the past few years.

Freedom

in the past few days, weeks maybe, i've had the privilege of speaking with some very kind, patient, and loving people. to be honest, i have been overwhelmed by their kindness and patience, and i have truly had to swallow a fair amount of pride. i'm okay with that part. i don't mind being wrong, in fact i rather welcome it. if i'm always right i don't learn anything anyway.

so as i've been going to church again as of late, the whole experience has really required me to swallow quite a bit of my pride...which, as the old tale goes, humble pie isn't particularly delicious. however, as i've put myself out in this uncomfortable situation, i've found that i am welcomed with open arms by a group of people who patiently cover me in love regardless of the thoughts and questions swirling about in my head. they have no concern as to whether or not i believe the right or wrong theology. they aren't interested in what i may or may not have done. their sole interest lies in loving me just as i am. all of this has derived out of the death of my beloved friend. to think that this, the legacy she has left, is that she is the tie that binds all of these unique and beautiful people together astounds me. i then wonder, what will my legacy be? i've said before that i hope it's that i love people well. this experience has encouraged me to work harder to ensure that is exactly what i do.

and then...then i was told that despite all of the events, recent or in the distant past, this life isn't about getting it right. the longer i sit with that notion, the more peace i find in it. thank you for telling me that friend and sharing your honest thoughts with me. in that there is a great freedom that before seemed so far out of my grasp. i fought so hard to be perfect and thought these questions were so wrong...and you just gave me the ability to be free and unashamed of my doubts and concerns. what a beautiful thing and what a blessing.

I've been to church now a total of 4 times in the last 2 years...maybe 3 years. I can't remember honestly. But I've been going because of my sweet friend Michelle and the ordeal that took place in the last days of her life. I have been struck by the beautiful image of all of these people coming together to support one another in such a dark time of angst and turmoil. I have been humbled to be a small part of this. Truly, it is an honor.

In my own heart and mind though, I have the most difficult time sorting out all this mess. Not just because Michelle died, but because I can't sort out the theology that all these other people turn to for comfort. For me, the theology is maybe the most discomforting part of it all.

I cannot grasp how people cling so dearly to words that may be little more than stories or myths. I unable to fathom how people turn to a God who is supposed to be loving and just and react to him in praise when we have lost a close friend. My heart is troubled by all of my uncertainties, and to be fair, a certain amount of those uncertainties are surely derived out of my own pride. Perhaps I simply do not want to believe because I think it's naive and maybe even foolish. I just can't put too much faith in a book compiled by a bunch of men hundreds of years ago. I can't justify why the canon is accepted and the apocrypha is not. I cannot see how this religion that is, honestly full of ludicrous tales, makes any more sense than say Mormonism with John Smith and his silly rocks. How can you praise a God who never teaches you how to deal with pain? I don't know either. And it seems no one has answers to my seemingly endless questions. Some people seem to tremble because of my doubt as though it's blasphemous, but I think they're just afraid to admit they've had the same thoughts before.

Thomas doubted, and he received proof to answer his questions. But was that just another fable? Something to use as a teaching method really? How can you tell the difference? Very little in the Bible can be corroborated by other historical accounts. So when do you know if these stories are just stories? Or are these outlandish tales things that actually occurred? I suppose the Tootsie Roll owl is right...the world may never know.

sleep has eluded me as of late. i'm not the least bit happy about it either. that makes the light of day even more unbearable.
the tick, tick, ticking of the clock as minutes turn into hours of restless sleeplessness. the hum of the air conditioning that just never stops. slowly the thick black of the sky fades into grey morning haze that burns off with the unseasonable warmth of the sun. and all the while i lay here. waiting. waiting for my dreams to carry me off and away to some sleepy, neverland that exists only behind the curtain of night.
but no. no dreams for me tonight or maybe ever. i wonder if at least a wave of sleep will wash over me as here i lay.
is it the angels that torment me in my bed with pushing and prodding throughout the night? Surely it isn't the demons that dance inside my head, for we are old friends with a past sordid though it may be. they are the ones who have been with me always. it cannot be them who banish sleep from my bed.
whatever it is, i hope to fight it off this night. as i lay here yearning for that sweet respite from the world. come, come to me sweet sleep. lay here with me and hold me tight so that i may pass from this pace of life into a deep, long slumber

We are the dreamers of the dreams...

I remember that line from long ago when I was a little girl. Gene Wilder says it in Willie Wonka, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory...whatever it's called. At any rate, the quote is something along the lines of "We are the music makers and the dreamers of the dreams..." I love that notion, but then I wonder what might happen if we dared to speak of those dreams instead of tucking them away in the bastions of our souls. What may happen if those dreams were allowed the freedom to take flight?
I know in my own life it's hard to say, as I rarely remember dreaming, much less are my dreams clear enough to recall. I don't remember the last time I set about establishing any dreams or goals, conventional or otherwise. Or maybe wanting to get paid to paint and write is a dream. Perhaps. But I think in my head those notions seem so unrealistic I hesitate to even think upon them. Of course, that may be the beauty of a dream in the first place.
So I wonder, what is it that others dream? Is it the unrealistic nature of a dream that makes it so beautiful to begin with? And is it the cynic inside me that holds my dreams at bay? If that is the case, how to break that trend? How does one defeat a seemingly undying cynicism that is bedded deeply inside the most far reaching bulwarks of his or her heart? Is there a solution? A cure?
I imagine if there is, it is a simple one...love

I am truly disappointed when the dark of night is rudely interrupted by the break of day streaming across my windows. In fact I long to stay enshrouded in that cool, dark, velvet wrap of endless stars and black wonder. It is in this space, where I, in my solitude, am at the same time surrounded by countless angels...my thoughts that meander throughout the deepest caverns of my mind. It is strange perhaps how in this seemingly desolate place, I am simultaneously the most and the least lonely imaginable. My thoughts and questions ceaseless as the ocean tide, washing away the sand from the endless shores. To and fro, the angels in my head rock me back and forth, rarely idling long enough for sleep to take hold and whisk me away. Even in my dreams innumerable queries and ideations seem to envelope every bit of my being. Down, down, deeper and deeper, into the rabbit hole I go. No Alice to follow, and no Cheshire Cat to welcome me with a grin. But it's my own wonderland into which I delve, into which I find peace amongst the wild things and creations that lie therein. There I am truly at home, in the safety of my own inner sanctum where no one can take away my freedom of thought or exploration.

For these reasons I long for the thick cozy haze of dense cloudy days. I often despise the sun and it's cheer as I long for the comfort of my deepest thoughts...that seem to be run off by the sun's garish glare. I seek to cloak myself in the soft, warm veil of my own demons. I know them for they are my own darkest secrets and desires. I know where they will go, and if I so desire, I just may follow. Otherwise, I pine away for the days that seem to be endless nights; the crisp, cool air of a black, black winter's eve; the warmth over my whole body as the scotch fills my veins and at last I am alone with my music, art, and thoughts.

I sit here with a heavy weighted heart...my friend has died, and as someone who is terribly unemotional, I have very little inclination of how to deal with it all...not to mention the everyday stress of life and work and other relationships. I can't quite fathom how to actually address this situation as in the past, I have simply set aside my emotions in some far away dark recess of my mind where I could bury them and hide them away from the light of day. As I've grown older though, I've come to realize the importance of allowing those emotions to have their own time and space. I'm simply not quite sure how to do that.
In turn, I ask you friends, how does one allow for emotions to take their toll when one isn't so acclimated to emotions at all? I am sad beneath the smiling face and cheerful personality. I am heartbroken for my friend and her family. I am angry with little consolation to be found in the novel idea that perhaps my friend is resting in a heaven that I'm not sure I believe in. Tell me please, how might this transpire? For someone who scores on an emotional IQ test the equivalent of one who has Aspergers, how do you sort this out? What does this look like in everyday life, for people who know how to feel and to empathize?
On top of it, to bear the weight of having to keep steady the hand of one who is essentially my boss but is perhaps not in the right position, maintain an incredibly busy work flow, and still be a good friend to those who need me...I'm simply not sure how this all will work out. I am quite alone, and truly I wish there were someone to guide me and lead my hand in the right direction...to simply take charge for a while. Since that is certainly not the case though, what is a girl to do? Where is she to turn? And whom might she seek for help? A god whom she isn't certain is actually there? Or a friend who may or may not return a message? To that end, might she truly be alone?

Michelle...

Like many others I'm sure, I am laying awake, tossing and turning, swaddled in the pillowy softness and warmth of my bed. My mind is racing with constant thoughts of our dear friend Michelle though...hoping she is tucked safely in her sub-zero sleeping bag within the confines of her "exceptional" tent, or perhaps nestled down deep within the protective walls of a snow cave. The uncertainty of this situation is brutal. I can only imagine how her parents must feel, and truly, to them I extend my deepest sympathies and my hope for peace and rest.

In the midst of this snowy madness though, there is an intense and profound beauty, one that so wholly displays a true and pure love for another person. I'm somewhat in awe of the phenomenal amount of earnest passion, sincere love, and unwavering faith and hope displayed by this mass of people joining together to root for our beloved friend, sister, and daughter.

I am confident she is out there, waiting with a patience and determination that can only be heaven sent. I am certain that Michelle is there in the snowy wonder of this mountain with unbreakable strength bestowing her selfless love on those around her, for as we all know, that is what she does, and it simply is who she is.

As the break of day is fast approaching, so comes with it a new chance for glory to rain down, and for hope and faith to be renewed.

Michelle,
We all love you so very dearly, and cannot wait to hear your tales of adventure and wonder and incredible tenacity. I look forward to seeing you soon my friend.