For the All Souls Charlottesville 2014 

"Joyful in Hope" Advent Creativity Gallery

fear and LOVE

(inspired by All Souls Charlottesville Women’s Retreat 2014)

Like choking smoke and thick dark paint, our fears,

Color our skin, our lenses smear.

Our pores gasp for breath, hearts bloody and bare,

Strain for oxygenated air.

Eyes searching for flickered light through the thick,

Worn souls scraping beneath the quick.

Enveloped in LOVE; light we cannot see,

Float in vibrant air we cannot breathe.

We cannot feel them for the thick smoke paint.

Our cells struggling; minds growing faint.

In voices small, we name seemingly powerful fears,

But they are merely tiny drops and smears.

And LOVE – true LOVE, perfect LOVE – like Light,

Shatters dried paint flaking, piercing clear sight.

Heat of perfect LOVE burns up, dries to soot,

What felt large is charred to naught.

To the truth of these words we bend our ears;

Perfect love drives out, decimates our fears.

Being present... and what I lost.

I told myself that when I moved to Charlottesville, VA, I was going to work on being present in the moment.  Present where I lived. Present with those with whom I interacted.

And I believed that part of that meant letting go of staying in touch with friends who were far away.  Friends who had been with me through many and various seasons of my life but with whom my life didn't intersect - at least not with any frequency - in-person.  I believed that I had spent too many years living in the past and living engaged more with people who lived miles, states, or countries away from where I had planted my feet at the time.  I believed it was unhealthy and it was healthier to be present.

Looking back, this intention was good.  I couldn't continue living elsewhere or wishing I was living elsewhere - I'd spent most of my life doing that and it wasn't good.  And perhaps, if I had gotten really good at being present, and planting my feet, and sinking my roots in deep, this might all be different.  But I wasn't.

When we moved to C'ville, I was doing online classes with a school that technically was in Minnesota and the students were from all over the country and world.  And then I started telecommuting to my old job in Boston, Massachusetts.  So... not exactly present - even in Virginia.  Work and school took up a lot of my time.

And I found once again, that building friendships in a new city (another college city), and at this stage in life, took a LOT of effort and a LOT of time and still many friends I invested in moved away within a couple of years of having met them.  And we had 8 roommates in 5 years.  And I got weary.  Of course, the Chronic Fatigue might have had something to do with that too...

And then I started interning as a psychotherapist and relationships became my work and they are a lot of work (although enjoyable and rewarding too).

And then I had a child.  And everyone knows you don't got no time for nothin' when you gots children (even correct grammar).
See this: http://www.buzzfeed.com/maycie/this-mother-of-twos-message-to-her-friends-without-kids-is-s#46c4b70

Evan has often lamented my lack of female friends - a trend we've noticed with many women we meet - certainly once they get married and even more once they have children.  I thought being present would fix it.  But I look back now and I can see that I did have good friends.  Really, really good friends.  The kind of friends who would write snail mail back and forth with me.  Who really knew me.  Who knew where I came from.  How I'd changed.  Knew my family.  Knew my story and celebrated and loved me, no matter what.  And dear friends with whom and for whom I got the immense privilege of doing the same.

This is not at all to say, that I haven't loved many of the new friends I've met and with whom we now share, in some measure, our lives - just that I regret the degree to which I set aside some wonderful friends.

Beautiful women.

Basically, I'm now realizing that I wish that rather than having the illusion of staying connected via facebook (http://ct.counseling.org/2014/08/losing-face-how-facebook-disconnects-us/) or a very occasional email or text or even a visit... I wish that I had chosen a few close friends to stay in touch with like I used to - by handwritten letters.  And phone calls.  And prayer.  And laughter.  And tears.  But I didn't.  At least, not very well.

I'm a real live poet...

This is amazing and humbling...

http://www.amazon.com/She-Poetry-Book-I/dp/1494439220/ref=sr_1_15?ie=UTF8&qid=1409932315&sr=8-15&keywords=she+is+poetry

Enough said.

Another Poem From She is Poetry

Here's another poem from She is Poetry.  I'm in the final revision process for the proof... Hopefully it will be ready soon!  Enjoy!

“Love is” Sonnet

Love is to me, like a warm day blooming

When spring has come and the birds are chirping

Love is to me, like a joy and laughter

When around we romp and play together

Love is to me like tension, a threatening

The way is unclear, hard, confusing

Love is to me like parchment and a pen

Words wait to pour forth like notes from a wren

Love is to me, like war and a wrestling

In the mess and blood and in the breaking

Love is to me, like a soul stream bubbling

Over rocks and twigs, ever flowing

Love is to me, like melodious song
When poetry and notes, go on and on

Today is Momentous... A Book is Coming!

Today is momentous...

Today I ordered a proof of my first book to be officially published (although not the first I have written): She is Poetry

Today, I embrace my poems.  Today, once again, I embrace the story which I have lived and am living.  Today, I take another step toward sharing with others some of what has been placed in me.

I feel nervous and excited.  Hopeful and terrified.

Here's the teaser which is included in the book and which some of you have seen before:

Poetry and Prose

He is the land and She is the sea.;

He’s solid and firm; She, fluid and free.

He is the dusk and She is the dawn.

He is the sun and She is the moon.

She speaks in poetry and He in prose;

She set her heart on him; Her, he chose.

He is the King of knights and men;

She is the Queen of peasants and children.

He is majestic and noble and righteous;

She is regal and good and gracious.

She writes in poetry and He in prose.

Home is her haven; the wild, He knows.

He is strong and handsome and daring;

She is unbound and fair and soul-baring.

He is justice and She is mercy.

He is melody while She is harmony.

He moves and acts, She watches and waits.

She was his destiny; He was her fate.

He is a tree while She is a rose;

She is poetry and He is prose.

I can't wait for the proof to come in the mail...

A Season of Joy!

I have been called to a season of joy.  There, I said it.

You would think I would be elated.  Overjoyed even (pun intended).  What a thing to be called to - joy!

But I am finding the path difficult.  I am finding I must often choose joy.  I must choose joy through gratitude.  I must choose it in rejoicing in moments when I am weary.  Worn thin - as Bilbo said, like butter spread over too much bread.  That image has stuck with me for years and I have felt that wearing ever since I came down with what they called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  I don't really know what it was but it plagued me for most of 10 years.  And I still feel it, the wearing.  That thin feeling.  I must choose joy not in some superficial way but in a deep connection to the fact that there is a loving God who desperately wants me to be here, in this moment, present to Him, and to the amazing riches he has for me not in some future time but right here, right now.

The last couple of years, I have been emerging from the wearing.  Clawing my way back toward life and gasping breath and rejoicing.  I have been choosing to leave the complaining, the whining, and the endless anxious grasping and running... But of course, there are still days when I am there.  When I go back to that familiar frantic rhythm which is not a pretty rhythm at all.

I get the privilege of working with clients every week, as a psychotherapist in training (in Virginia I have to technically write, Resident in Counseling).  And many of them have so much more anguish, agony, pain, sorrow, and struggle than I have ever had.  They are a reminder that many of my concerns are trivial and that living in fear doesn't get you anywhere, certainly not anywhere good.  They are a reminder that the deepest joy is often found at the heart of the deepest sorrow.

A few months ago, I read One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp (thanks Mom for that beautiful gift).  And ever since I have been captivated by the door of gratitude which leads to presence, to divine connection, and to joy.  That was the beginning of the calling of this joyful season.  I don't know how long this season will last but I imagine in one way or another, it will be another current added to the river for the rest of my life.  I certainly hope so!

Honestly, there's a part of me which is relieved I haven't been called to a season of love (at least not yet) because I think that would be much harder...  I know, I know, we're called to love and to joy and to a whole host of other things but at least, this season is particularly about joy.  I'm grateful for that too.

If you're interested in joy and gratitude check out: http://onethousandgifts.com/

The Light is at the Heart of it

I feel cramped in the womb of God’s imagination
Floating in His liquid love-filled cocoon
And even before I know of my own existence,
I fight to leave the eternal embrace.

When I finally break free,
I expect freedom
But the wide world of sadness envelops me
And I am always searching for Your river of everlasting love

Of late I have been obsessed with this idea of Love
And of resting in it
Feasting on it
Drinking it
Because my thirst feels unquenchable

I want to be carried along, but then I get sucked down
And as I descend,
I panic because of my terror of drowning.
What if I am lost and fade away?
What if my lungs aspirate this liquid?

So, I hold my breath and try to swim toward the light
 Only to realize the light is at the heart of it,
And I am going deeper.

 Eventually I cease my striving,
The frantic efforts, and relax, release…
Rest in my demise.

And then I notice that I am breathing,
As if I have grown gills,
As if my lungs were made to breath this Love-water all along
 As I open my eyes again
I find the underwater world is renewed,
 And there is a vibrant color and shimmering light
 To all that surrounds me

I begin to glide and swim exploring this renewed existence.
 And I realize that nothing and no one can take me out of this liquid
For it is greater and bigger and deeper and purer
 Than I have ever imagined