About Me

Monday, September 25, 2017

Snapshots of September



"If you look at the world, you'll be distressed. If you look within, you'll be depressed. If you look at God, you'll be at rest." - Corrie Ten Boom














I didn't take as many pictures in September as I normally do because of the valley being smoked in. You couldn't even see clouds (which is maybe why I went overboard with cloud/sunset pictures after the smoke moved on). The first picture is of the sun at about 6:50 pm in the beginning of the month. It was bad.  Did any of you have to deal with the smoke? How was your Summer? The highlight? Do you love Fall? Favorite parts of it?

Sunday, September 17, 2017

My Loss of Words



-Tuesday-

Doctor's Office. Whispers in the hallway. For privacy, I know, and I try not to listen, but they're talking about her. I just know it. Emergency Room. This all should be familiar, and it is, but it isn't. I sit in the corner, out of the way, and I need to fight, but I can't. I can't fix anything with my feeble human love and a needle and thread.

-Wednesday-

Hospital after work till dark. Pneumonia, but it isn't cold. Pneumonia comes with the cold weather and sickness that won't go. I stumble through the dark at home. Finish chores by 10:30. I write.

-Thursday-

Doctor's Office with someone else. Trying to fill holes, carry the weight of her worries, but I can't fill all her spaces, not hers and mine. Work. She sends me a text, 'Pray.' Hospital. Her chest trembles with each fight for oxygen. Breathing shouldn't be so hard. She is sick. Not sick like all the other hospital stays. Sick. We pray. Sister cries. I don't. Not till I'm home and alone and stumbling through the dark. Do I trust God with the lives of those I love?

I don't. 

-Friday-

She says she is scared. I want to know the deepest parts of another human, but I don't want to know that. Don't tell me. My heart cries, and I work because I can't be there. And I pray. A procedure. A test. A new room in the CCU - Critical Care Unit. My heart stops as I read the sign. And I wait outside the doors. She is drowsy. Her face half-covered with a breathing machine. In and out. In and out. Filling her lungs with the freshest air she has breathed for a month and a half of smoke. She can't talk, but there's color in her face. She is better, yet worse? 

-Saturday-

Fever breaks. It isn't a fight to breath on her own. Out of CCU to somewhere else. I sneak her cut-up melon fresh from my garden and roast and vegetables I cook. She eats more than she has since last Saturday. And she smiles. And she almost laughs. 

-Sunday-

All afternoon we watch her drowse in and out of sleep. She is better but worn. They don't know when she'll get to go home. Home. She wants to go there. She apologizes for all of this, but why? I want to cry, but she does, and I try to pick up the pieces of my saddened heart and put together a smile. It will be alright, but I don't know when or how. She asks, 'Why?' I just don't know. She drags herself along, bruised and broken and worn, and her body fights, but it's tired. And I'm tired as I try to fill all the spaces, her spaces, with me. I can't fix anything with my feeble human love. 

This life is a messy life, and I think I've lost my words. 




P.S. My blog's 1st anniversary is this week. I was going to do a giveaway but life. 


Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Favorite Aspects of Story: Those Worthy of Saving



What characters attract you most in stories?

I like characters who genuinely want to do what is right, who have a clear sense of what that means, and who are willing to give everything for it. To be completely honest, they sometimes look a lot like Captain America. These are the characters who inspire me, who keep me striving. I'm far from that kind of character, but it gives me a destination. I am besieged by obstacles a plenty, knocked down by them, crippled by them, but right and wrong are carved into me. I sometimes plug my ears, and I try to drown out the conviction, but they are still there. At the end of the day, I want to do what is right, and sometimes I want simple. I want characters in stories whose conscious' compass is not so far off from my own because do all heroes need tragic backstories and long, painful journeys?

In spite of my best intentions, I don't much resemble those heroic characters. Instead other characters draw me in, and they are the opposite to the conscious' clear compass wielders. They are the villains who are all but lost. Think of Regina in Once Upon a Time. Darth Vader in Star Wars. Maleficent in the newest Sleeping Beauty retelling. At differing points, you have little doubt in your mind that these characters are evil, and yet, somewhere inside of them is something worth saving. More than that, there is someone who believes they are worth saving.

And maybe the greatness of these characters is not in their own strengths and eventual redemption, but in the conscious' compass wielders who won't give up on them, who saw what these antiheroes could be and wouldn't let them be any less. Or the greatness lies more hidden. These stories are the stories of love. A love that breaks through darkness and destruction. Or the glimmer of love not quite dead, underneath all the darkness, that is somehow strong enough to push back the flood of decaying morals.

Why do these characters' storylines appeal to me?

These characters appeal because one of the strongest villain-types is the villain who has the potential for good, the potential to be the hero and make the greatest sacrifices. They have potential to do good, but they also have the potential to succumb to the darkness, to give up the fight, and to turn into villains whose hearts hold no hope for redemption. You are on the line as you immerse yourself in the story. You try to read these hearts and predict, but you are never quite sure. You want them to keep fighting, but in their place, you wonder if you would.

As an audience member of these stories, I often wonder how Henry or Aurora could care about the villain. They are despicable. They have done things that I wouldn't ever think about doing. I don't know if I would even want to touch the corner of their clothing, and yet, the creator of this type of villain sneaks their creation past my defense, and I somehow care.

I care because the idea everyone, regardless of the rocky and desperate paths they take, is worthy of saving secretly slips into my mind.

I care because I know well my own inner battles, and I know the yearning for a love that sees beyond my stains, my broken fence, and garden full of weeds to something worthy of saving.

What type of characters are you usually drawn to? Have you seen this character storyline in books/movies/tv shows? What are some of your favorite aspects in stories?

Monday, September 4, 2017

Growing Pains






Have I lost my voice?
Or are these just growing pains?
Is something changing deep inside?
Or am I still the same?
Did I know how to use my words
At a time when I was free
From this criticizing voice?
Or have I always been like this
- A wretched, doubting servant
whose uses are so few?
There I go again -
To think you wouldn't use me
Because perfection is what you seek.
Perfection is my point of view.
It was never yours.
You are too wise to mistake us for that.

Am I meant to blindly go
With unshaking convictions deep within?
Someone says one thing;
Another says something else.
I believe and fall for each.
I know nothing of myself.
I cannot understand my own voice.
My heart fools me
As if I've never been fooled before
By the ever-changing flow
Filling the corners of my mind.
 I could use some clarity-
A little word straight from the wise,
But they have never stopped me.
It's you that I really need. 

I think I've lost my push,
My force, on and on.
My words hold no rhythm or rhyme,
And I am a stranger here.
So have I lost my voice?
Or are these just growing pains? 
Am I rebelling like a fool?
Or despairing with no hope?
My foolish heart won't stop its lies,
And I cannot hear internal melody.