Sleeves

I cut the sleeves off the shirt. I did it impulsively. I wore it, and felt nothing. It was his, you know, his shirt. And he had been gone for a while. Weeks. I don't know how I did it -- wearing his shirt around like he never existed. He did exist. He was most real, vivid, in that time. And he was really gone. And I walked around the place with his shirt on. Everything was a bit strange that night. I worked at that new place. I enjoyed it, but it all seemed so surreal coming home. Being so alone. I lit candles, and paced around. I washed dishes, and some of the flames burnt out in the meantime, so i lit them again, and dripped wax on the floor. I sat there, staring ahead. He was looking at palm trees, I was sure. I was staring at a couch. How different, the things that we were seeing. On that day, I was very thankful. Thankful, but it really took every bit of strength to smile, to laugh, even to say anything at all. But I made it that day, every day I have survived since. Mornings were tough, getting up and facing that void. When would things change? And yet things were always changing. Always. I was so tired. Maybe tomorrow would be a great day. I hoped. I prayed, mercy.

Songs

Willy Mason - Gotta Keep Walking

Kele Goodwin - Hymns

Richard Buckner - Collusion

Richard Buckner - Witness

Electric Magnolia Co. - The Old Horizon

Chris Bathgate - Serpentine

Bonnie 'Prince' Billie - Lay and Love

First Aid Kit - Our Own Pretty Ways

Sufjan Stevens - To Be Alone With You

Horse Feathers - Curs in the Weeds

Bowerbirds - Tuck The Darkness In

Megafaun - Real Slow

Bowerbirds - In The Yard

Seawolf - Middle Distance Runner

monochrome

It's interesting looking back at life, you know, in retrospect. When all the loudness fades, and it's just a few remaining memories. That's what I've been doing, looking back. Wondering how on earth this all came to pass. I won't share details. But I've recently gone through one of the hardest things I've ever had to--to date. I'm also amazed, at the provision of a good good God, and comfort and grace, in all the toughest times. And for people -- friends, family who love me. Where would I be without? Terrifically lost, I'm sure.

I just came back from a trip (Thanks to Cubby and Jes!) It was timely, healing. We went to the ocean. Everything is more clear there. I've started working in a flower shop, again. Learning more. Gaining confidence. It's a blessing through and through. My heart is thankful.

So, chin up, me.

x

like a bed of rest

Last night, as you can see, I posted the 'Satisfied In You' video by The Sing Team from Mars Hill Church. I've been listening to it on repeat since then, and just thinking over the lyrics and making it a prayer from my own heart. I know it's the truth -- I will always be dissatisfied with everything in life -- my job, my situation, my clothes, my house, my spouse, my friends, and especially myself, my image, my body, my haircolour, my eyes, the way my jeans fit. Such petty things. And it's so easy to wonder, if I just change *this* or *that*, dye my hair brown, cut it, see new places, get a new job, a new apartment, be anyone else but myself, maybe then I'll be happy? If I just follow my dream career path, maybe then I'll feel fulfilled...? It's so easy to think in a way opposite to what is THE beneficial and truthful and soul-fulfilling way to think. When the world is fast, and everyone in it is simply looking to survive, to feel, to cope, to be 'happy', to eat, to drink, to breathe, just for today, when everything I do is .. for what? There is only One Place. We're all looking, searching and digging. We keep hoping, circling our fears, and living out of them. Really, we're all poor and powerless. What about trying? Tasting and seeing? That maybe, the Lord really is who He says He is. Not saying it, and living as if He isn't. Living as if He's a liar. That His promise to fill my empty cup, to be a shelter in the storm, to be a God of mercy, to be a God of salvation and of freedom, justice, truth... That's it's not true... The opposite of faith, I believe, is fear. And fear says that my God is NOT who He says He is. That He will NOT keep His promises -- And saying that is really declaring that He is a liar. Saying that God is a liar is taking His Word, His very breath, The Bible, and throwing it ,in it's entirety, in the trash. All of it. That sounds like near Atheism to me... A·the·ism  - noun - the doctrine or belief that there is no God. I shiver. I am tired of being fearful. And I repent of that sin-stress that sticks to my gut and my ribs and won't leave me alone. I let go of it. And, come what may, The LORD is my shepherd, and I want for nothing. He has the wheel. I give up. I give in. He is the One Place. The Source of all things good. All things worth anything. He is the only place I am satisfied. The only way my thirst is quenched. I am satisifed in Him. ( I just wanted to post the lyrics to that song, because they are true, and they are beautiful.) SATISFIED IN YOU I have lost my appetite And a flood is welling up behind my eyes So I eat the tears I cry And if that were not enough They know just the words to cut and tear and prod When they ask me “Whereʼs your God?” Why are you downcast, oh my soul? Why so disturbed within me? I can remember when you showed your face to me As a deer pants for water, so my soul thirsts for you And when I survey Your splendor, You so faithfully renew Like a bed of rest for my fainting flesh When Iʼm looking at the ground Itʼs an inbred feedback loop that drags me down So itʼs time to lift my brow And remember better days When I loved to worship you and learn your ways Singing sweetest songs of praise Let my sighs give way to songs that sing about your faithfulness Let my pain reveal your glory as my only real rest Let my losses show me all I truly have is you So when Iʼm drowning out at sea And all your breakers and your waves crash down on me Iʼll recall your safety scheme Youʼre the one who made the waves And your Son went out to suffer in my place And to show me that Iʼm safe Why am I down? Why so disturbed? I am satisfied in you creditsfrom Oh! Great Is Our God!, track released 03 April 2012 Written by Brian Eichelberger / E on the Eye Chart (BMI) x

why are you downcast, oh my soul

yes.

x

photo friday

Raining, raining still.

I can hardly see through.

Inside and outside,

It rains.

In my head, and on the streets,

The grass, the treetops, the riverbed;

-

Well, I have been sick as a dog, with a mysterious illness, for which I now have antibiotics and I am beginning to slowly but surely get better.  I haven't been sick for a while, and having so much to do at the moment it wasn't the greatest timing. But I'm so glad to be getting back on my feet. Tomorrow I hope to accomplish most of the things on my dusty to-do list. I am hoping that getting some things done will help to clear my head. I recently quit my job. Don't ask. It was a job that I only planned to do for 3 months. I felt guilty for quitting, so I never did, and tried my best to love it. But after nearly 7 months, I impulsively decided to end it. If you know me well, you know where I worked, and I'm certain you can understand why it was a struggle. There were windows of good times, and moments I didn't mind so much, but those moments were fleeting, and I really didn't enjoy it much. This seems an odd time to quit my job, with a wedding to plan, and huge expenses coming my way, moving to New Zealand and all, but that's me. Impulsive. I thought I was getting better, being more responsible. Putting my petty preferences behind me, so that I could simply do what needed to be done - make money and save money. But, I did it. I quit. Shame on me, I suppose, but there was something so freeing about it, I was even giddy. Now to figure out what to do next. That's the tough part. The part that gets me kicking myself over quitting -- realizing that even when I think I'm less and less naive, I'm not. I'm still quite naive. I want to be and do a great many things. I want to be an artist, a writer, a designer, a freelancer, but I cannot be that right now, and I fool myself every time. Sigh. One day I will learn. One day I'll really get it. But for now, I'm again jobless, and on the wild hunt for work. There's so much bouncing around in my head. Wishing I had all the freedom in the world to create and create and create. But, of course, there's things to be done! Needs to be met! I must be responsible! First things first, however, I need to get well. Get my body functioning normally again, and then I'll know what to do next. Lord, help! 

Well! That's my rant for today! I hope you all have a happy weekend. 

x

Bell Choir Coast

discovered via For Me, For You

these days

Well I've been out walkin'/I don't do that much talkin' these days/These days/These days I seem to think a lot/About the things that I forgot to do.../And all the times I had the chance to
/And I had a lover/And it's so hard to risk another these days/These days/Now if I seem to be afraid ... to live the life I have made in song/Well it's just that I've been losin' ... for so long/Well/I'll keep on movin' ... movin' on/Things are bound to be improvin' these days/One of these days/These days I'll sit on corner stones/And count the time in quarter tones to ten ... my friend/Don't confront me with my failures/I had not forgotten them.

tunes for tuesday

enjoy! x

light

Photo Friday:

Light is catching my attention these days. I see something, like these above, and must capture it! I stop what I am doing and take the moment captive as a memory, as proof, as a time capsule that I was there, I saw that little speck of glory, I saw that little proof of something greater. My mind is going so fast these days. I am doing what I can to slow down, to examine my own thoughts and to be thankful in each moment. To see beauty, and to recognize who and where it flows from, pours from, seeps and overwhelms from. And sometimes, it's as simple as the sunlight through the blinds, or the way a dirty window is made spectacular by golden glow. Moments are fleeting. I choose to waste my life identifying and naming and calling out the beautiful things I see, playing that memory game with the Creator of them all. All with that deep knowing that He's there, naming and calling out with me.

x

fine.

"don't worry about me." she said, "i'm fine. just fine."
she turned to walk to the door.

"i do worry." the lady replied. "all night i lie awake."
"and i have no peace of mind, too. i'd like to know that you're alright."

"well, i am, see? i'm here. alive. i'm okay."

"i'm not so sure." said the lady, and they parted ways.

Post War

A young friend of mine--a boy--his mother died and I made him a card as if it were his birthday. He didn't say much. We've seen each other since, but it's been different.
Margy and I haven't been getting along. So strange, she seems so preoccupied, so sure of the life she leads. She seems to know everything and she's leaving me behind.
The other day, Henry and I fought, and we thought we'd made a mistake. The next day I ate nothing and only drank water. I wanted to somehow clean myself inside. I was so tired, and I knew I had missed the mark.

Katie walked by me at work and I wondered what her life was like -- she had two children and she was so young.

On a Tuesday, it was raining and quite cold. I didn't work that day, and stayed in. Henry was driving a long way from where I was, and the rooms in the house were gray. I sat alone and wondered why things felt so strange. And how do I seem okay with things when they feel a certain way, when the truth about things was clear -- nothing was strange at all.
James and Christa had left town. I hardly noticed. Some people make some kind of impression on others, leave a lasting impact. Others simply don't and that's fine. I wondered where I landed in the mix...?

That night ended with a sad, slow song, and a tired kiss. Henry and I slept in seperate rooms again.



I have always kept three clocks in the kitchen : a big black and white one, which hung beside Henry's ink portraits, a smaller wooden clock, and little kitchen timer that sat on the shelf above the stove. They all ticked at different times and to anyone visiting it might be stressful, but to me it was so beautiful and I loved the sound. Henry would sometimes take the battery out of the wooden clock because it was the loudest. I always put it back. We'd never talk about the clocks, but it was a constant and unspoken battle between us.

On Saturday, I didn't eat much. I vacuumed and tried to write song about my friends --  the ones I never speak to anymore, but I couldn't even remember some of their names, which truly saddened me, and I didn't want to leave anyone out, of course. I left the piano and went for a walk instead. Henry was out in the garden planting tulip bulbs at the wrong time of the year. I once told him that my grandpa who died when I was quite young had a green thumb and an impressive garden, and that I remember that fondly about him.
Henry has long since been trying. I do like that about him, but inside, I hate that he can't do it like my grandpa did.
I closed the gate when I returned from my walk and Margy was sitting comfortably on the porch with gin in her glass and lips of pink. I was surprised, of course, to see her there. She rarely came around anymore, so busy all the time.
Henry had left -- gone to the green house in town for some assortment of seeds, and so there we were, just us. It was a little bit windy that day, and Margy was wearing a large brimmed sunhat. It blew off once as we spoke about the distance between here and Germany by plane, and after that she kept one hand on the top of her head, securing her big hat, and on hand swirling the ice in her gin every two minutes or so. I observed her mannerisms more than I listened to what she was saying.
I know she didn't say anything important, and I would laugh at all the wrong times and she would tell me I'm strange.

Last week I fell down the stairs and Henry held me as I cried. I was embarrassed. That was the closest we'd been in months.

Maybe I am strange, but I've always believed that we all are. Maybe to comfort myself.

I was offered a lovely job. Not steady work, but was what I wanted to do. I simply never went. Instead I'm this. I try to love it, especially knowing Henry works so hard. But really, I hate it. And I tell myself, "You're so young. Do something." But I haven't yet. I will.

This girl I know, Maria, she's always been more intellectually minded than me, or she pretends. She's on a flight to the other end, to venture on a grand love affair. She says she found God, but she's lost him, really, turned away. I told her it's her life, of course. But I wanted to slap her in the face. I knew I shouldn't feel that way.

The telephone hadn't rang for nearly two days, and I wondered about Charles' father who was waiting to die and when would we get the call?
I prayed for the family.
I turned on some lamps in my studio. I was just so gray that day. I painted white over a piece I had been working on. I wasn't satisfied and then the telephone rang. Did I have to answer? I could be gone, out of the house, who would know?

Beth and Damien lived far away; it was good to receive a letter from them, I felt so loved then. Beth had that way about her.

Henry mowed the lawn. I looked out the kitchen window and everything out there was well done and very tidy. But I knew he wouldn't empty the grass catch and that I would have to do it, and I thought, "oh, that's fine." But really it angered me. And as I looked out the window, my eyes focused on the glass and I realized how dirty it was.

So I cleaned it.

Tomorrow we'd go to church, and I was glad.

I knew I had to clean all the windows in the house. They were filthy and it was just now that I had noticed, even after all these months of looking through them.
I felt ashamed. I knew it meant more than what it appeared.

I sang a hymn while I emptied the grass catch.

inheritance

That sly river, fear.
it seeps often in
and i curl and cringe and feel it coming strong
first dampness then wetness then
soaking through


how do i find dry land
how do i reach
how do i ...


breathe.
god.


he says, come on
he says, i love you
as you are
right now
i give you land to stand
inheritance,
beloved
outrageously loved
he says, it is this way, because i am this way
i love you because i love you because i love you.
just because that is me.


you can love me, too.
outrageously, beloved.
be thankful and sing.
you have been lifted out.


taste
live it
freedom from the smallness of the life before.
freedom from the strings and ropes and snares.
the river, fear.


take me in. let me go there.
he says.


i will not stop.
i will not go away.
i will not let you go.


my love will fight that river,
build a dam.
it will not touch you.


because i love you
because i love you
because i love you
and my love
casts it away.
outrageously,
my beloved,


he says.