Thursday, August 25, 2011


We then that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves.  Let every one of us please his neighbour for his good to edification. 

For even Christ pleased not himself; but, as it is written, The reproaches of them that reproached thee fell on me.   For whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the scriptures might have hope.  

Now the God of patience and consolation grant you to be likeminded one toward another according to Christ Jesus:
That ye may with one mind and one mouth glorify God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Wherefore receive ye one another, as Christ also received us to the glory of God.

~Romans 15: 1-7~

Monday, August 15, 2011

And in Seeking

My temperament is prone to vacillate between two extremes, nonchalance and anxiety.  Rarely do I nail myself full of the holes that plague the spirit when thoughts become anxious because I tend to ask the question "why?" more than enough and that prevents worry more than generates it.  Even though, for the last week, my dreams (which I give more credit to than is due to them), have been rife with struggle.  Struggles that lead to inevitable deaths...little ones (puppies I'm trying to save) or big ones  (mass wartime atrocities).

So, why?  Why am I dreaming and seeing such awful things?  I feel these deaths keenly because I fight with all my strength to prevent them.  I gently caressed the ears of the frightened pups, cradled the dying men in my arms and carried them away to quiet places, spinning them yarns of more poetic times, when light revealed the hope of another day, fresh air, and the quiet of a dawning suns.

It ends badly, no matter how much my heart yearns to change the course of the dream, even when I recognize that it is a dream.  I am powerless to do anything, but strive, to fly the poor things away from evil, grasping hands of death.  Even in the light, my sorrow is deep.

And my payment for this sorrow is...a stomach ache.  Yes, I have had a stomach ache for about a week now.  Stress induced...from dreams.  That, or the dreams are manifestations of worry seated in some other, conscious place.  But, by the break of morning, other than the lingering tear on my cheek, I feel no stress, sadness...just as easy as my happiness was interrupted, a smile spreads across my face and a song rises up from within me just as it does when my dreams are of a more pink and sparkly variety.

But there are moments, when cries of "help" tumble around in this home of my head and I just want to reach out and offer that hand of hope, that help, that anything that is needed.  Anything, to lift the curse of fear and bless their ears with lilting Hallelujahs.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Small Framed Portion

Greenhouse.  Beneath little panes pocked
by time and dotted with mold and lichen, rot,
a riot of tropical effulgence, small framed portion
of the endlessness.  Spiky plants blossom
like ideas; light glances off the glass and gleams
on the permanent hunger, steams.  Everything
blooms or is green.  You shrug into your coat.

From "3 Men: Portraits without the Human Figure" by Deena Linnett

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Helping Summer

This summer has been more like a spring than a full-fledged, scorching heat, dance in the afternoon rays, sip your sweet tea, and hover near fans at all times, normal kind of summer.  Don't get me wrong, we did have a couple "hot" (by Washington standards) days, but the heat has been so short lived that you don't need to bother trying to find shade.  I start the mornings off with sweaters and end the days without them.  Apply sunglasses liberally. :)

My birthday is coming up and I'm hoping the pretty, even tempered, springy dispositioned days stick around so I can thoroughly enjoy my time outside.

I'm really excited for some plans I have with my mom to see The Help.  We are both anxious to spend some time together and what better movie for real Mississippi GRITS and her all-things-Southern loving daughter to go see!  I can't wait to "boo" at Hilly Hollbrook and hear my mom's stories she will invariably share with me after the movie is over.  After all.