Guilt 6/14/06

In the river of life, guilt lurks unseen
Silently, it attaches itself to us
We don't even realize that it's there
In the murky waters it grows
We adjust our movements unconsciously
Compensating for it's growing weight
Slowly we notice a weariness
Each step is laborous
Our strength seems almost gone
Peering into the water, we recognize our guilt
Exhaustedly we struggle to break free

We pick up the guilt, hold it in our hands
Wondering what to do with it

Some throw the guilt at another
"It's all your fault!!!" they scream
But two can play at that game
And the guilt is always tossed back

Others clutch it fatalisticly to their chest
Embracing it's weight
They sink to the miry depths
Never to return

But a few are truly wise
Throwing the guilt down to the bottom of the river,
They jump on top of the guilt
And let it become a springboard
Launching them into new waters
Where guilt cannot follow

Categories: Poetry, Healing

Bridgette - 5/23/06

My best friend through the first 9 years of school
She lived in an old farmhouse with her grandma
When I was little, I always wondered why.

I remember her being so sad because she missed her mom
And I remember the bad days, the tears in her eyes
As she told me what her uncle had done
About how she told the teachers
And how they thought she lied.

I remember her first babysitting job.
She loved those kids so much!
She even brought them to church to show us how cute they were.
She always loved kids.
Some women are meant to be mothers.

I lost touch with her over the years
But I knew she'd made some bad decisions.
Didn't we all?

Last week I heard an update on her.
They said her kids were in foster care now
The different fathers of her children had abandoned her
And she was alone.

They described how the baby had cried
And she had yelled for it to JUST STOP!

And my heart broke,
For the woman who just needed some help.
A woman to teach her the things her mother couldn't
A friend to just say "here, I'll take the kids for an hour
So you can have some time alone"
Someone to help her stop the past
From being repeated.

Categories: Childhood, Family, Life

Diversity - 4/6/06

Diversity

Chinese, Lebanese
Black, White, Hispanic
Diversity is more than this

People from all nations, all backgrounds
All expected to be the same

Different people
All expected to fit into one mold

"This is what you should be" they say,
Pushing and squeezing you into their mold

Trying to fit you into a shape
You weren't made to be

This is not diversity
Diversity is something far greater

Diversity is different people
Allowed to be themselves
Working together

Diversity is remembering
That EVERY PERSON has value

Diversity is being respected as an individual
Not just as a "culture"

Diversity is every person finding their place
In the rainbow of creation

Diversity is everyone joining together
Becoming a community

Categories: Poetry, Connections

Real Life - 4/14/06

Real life is me, in my garden, with my hair up in a loose crazy-looking ponytail creation of some kind. My hands are covered in dirt, because I absolutely HATE gloves. There are handprints across my butt from where I've wiped my hands, and my knees are dirty from bending down to reach the plants. And I love every bit of the dirt.

Real life is me, propped up by pillows on my bed, surrounded by art supplies, yarn, and good books. Relaxing music is playing, usually ocean sounds and classical music, and I am at peace.

Real life is me, raising my hands, talking to a God I believe in wholeheartedly. Sometimes I weep, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I just talk a while. Soon the things of life start to pull at me, and I realize I have to leave him. But as I start to move on and do other tasks, I notice something. I feel filled.

Real life is me, holding a small hand, walking in the woods. The rains from the past few days have flooded the State park, making what was once a gentle stream rush forcefully over the rocks. I sit down on the top of the rocks, he sits on my lap. I push off, and down we go! The water has made the rocks into a perfect waterslide! We reach the bottom, and my backside is soaked, cold, and dirty. He looks up at me all excited, "can we do it AGAIN?!" My heart melts.

Real life is me, sitting in my local yarn store. It's open knitting night, and I have never been before. I am tense at first, but as we chat, I relax. We gab about this and that, politics, work, love,... and I quietly settle back in my chair. I feel at home.

Real life is me, on a Saturday morning. The roomate is gone, the house is quiet, and I am ENERGIZED! I throw on my "cleaning clothes" (you know the ones, kinda stained, kinda "hole-y"?). I throw my hair in a braid, and put on a bandana just because I can. I turn up music as loud as I possibly can, open up the doors to let fresh air in, and set to work. I clean and clean, singing loudly and off-key as I do it. I enjoy the smell of the cleaning supplies that fills the house. And when it's all said and done, I collapse down in exhaustion and play a game on my computer, loving my nice clean house. I feel accomplished.

Real life is me, hiking with my cousins. We find a section of rocks, and of course we have to climb! We go up the hillsides, hanging onto small trees when we can. We find strange bugs, and admire the view from the top. We find a small hollowed out space in one of the giant rocks. We squeeze in, and dream. We think about the lives of the Indians who once roamed this woods. Did they hide there from the rain? Did they pretend it was a house? What were their lives like? I look around me and see the beauty of nature, and the warmth of family. I feel whole.

Categories: Poetry, Family, Life

Testimony - 4/17/06

Shattered
Broken
Wounded by sins
Others had committed

Wandering
Searching
Looking for a God who was real

Traditions
Hypocracy
Those were the "Christianity" I'd known

Desperatlely searching
For a God that was real
In someones life

Empty
Hungry for love
I slid deeper and deeper
Into sins that I couldn't control

But a merciful God saw more
Than the anger I felt
Looking into the broken heart

People entered my life
Telling me this God was real
And their lives showed it.

Living the faith they taught
I listened to their words
And wondered
"Could he be real to me too?"

Sitting here with you now
I'm amazed yet again
That he was, and still is

Healing
Comforting
He's been real in my life
In ways I could never have expected.

Loving
Caring
He longs to be that real
In your life too

Categories: Poetry, Spiritual

Wasting My Life - 4/21/06

I go about my day
Just as I have a thousand days before
Looking to accomplish
What I always have.

Giving no thought
To the dreams I once had
Or to the people who need
Those dreams to become a reality

I live in a daze
With glassy eyes
That look all around me
Seeing nothing

Numb to the pain
Not feeling any sadness
But also not feeling
My life

I need to wake up
From this dream I live in
To feel the hopes and the dreams
And make a difference in my day

To remember
My life makes an impact
Ripples that change the world
Words that change lives

Categories: Poetry, Impact

Hurts - 3/15/06

HURTS
In a weak moment
I let my armor down

My exhaustion overpowering
The sense of self-protection

Her words shot inside
Struck like a thorn

Poison words slowly seep
Infecting my soul

Clouding my vision
Draining my strength

Making me feel unsafe
Afraid to be authentic

Categories: Poetry, Healing

Time - 3/10/06

Time

Time seems so short

So much to do

Little time to do it in

So many people needing

My time, my energy

Fighting to keep some for self

Wasting so much on trash

Activities unworthy

Of my time and attention

I must make it a priority

To remember:

Time

Is

Limited

Categories: Poetry, Time

Words Unspoken

Words Unspoken (written 8/8)

My face remains impassive
The mask of calm safely in place

My heart rages inside me
"HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?!"

The words from my mouth are quiet
Revealing nothing inside

My heart burns within me
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

I sit beside you
As if nothing had ever happened

My heart breaks inside me
"I TRUSTED YOU!"

I find my dirty, worn shovel
Digging a grave
For the words in my heart

My heart softly cries out
"You hurt me"

As the last heap of dirt
Burys all traces
Of words unspoken

Categories: Poetry