in-verse

Here, you thought
Spring is here
It IS almost March, after all
But the leaves fall
And fall
And you know, really,
It's just autumn in disguise.

Now, you thought,
Peace is come
A respite-time to grow and keep
But the waters rage,
And rage,
And you know, really,
It's just anger in disguise.

Come, you thought,
It will get better,
And the skies clear,
And my eyes clear,
But it rains,
And rains,
And you know, really,
It pains.

f (x) means do to x whatever f means
and f^(-1)(x) means do the opposite.

If seasons were functions
I'm stuck in the inverse
universe.

Peeking Out From My Past--

Oh, hi! Come on in! Don't bonk your head on the doorway--it's a little low. So good to see you!

Tea or coffee? I'll just be a minute... won't you sit by the fire?

Oh, my visitors on the sofa? These are a few old friends of mine--very old friends. A couple of stories--a couple of poems--a couple of songs. And I think a drawing or two. They dropped by for a visit--haven't seen them in a while--and I find I didn't remember them quite accurately. Somehow I thought they were different--but then maybe I've changed.

This is the first--"And the Stars Remained". Why don't you get acquainted while I go find you a drink?

There are words for no words...

I wish I had something to say once in a while
that made sense, and you loved me.

I wish my heart could love once in a while.
Could break out of myself, and I see you.

God knows why I have no tears for you
slipping out of my heart, drop--pattering on the carpet

But I hear something blurry,
Your fuzzy pain fills my thoughts--
and I have nothing to say.

I'm sorry.

Help.

Reverence. Fear. These aren't words I normally use towards God. Yet I firmly believe in their importance. Without proper respect and acknowledgment of WHO God is--I gravely misstep in my thoughts toward and conversations with (or are they at?) God.

I want to die having lived a life pleasing to God.

As a culture, and as a generation, we're losing our ideals--the good guys aren't the good guys anymore. The bad guys aren't bad. Evil is not evil--it's a friendly devil, an affectionate death.

God isn't God anymore.

We've copied our stories, images, thoughts, and feelings so many times that they no longer have meaning. We are souls without faces.

What is love, again? Oh, and none of that nonsense, please. The REAL thing. Since all the other REAL things weren't actually real.

We are blind; we have no eyes to see God for who He is and what He requires.

And what is goodness?

Goodness is neither kindness nor righteousness; goodness is speaking in a politically correct manner, having a well-paying job, raising a family, taking a vacation every summer, playing team sports. Goodness is "coopetition"--everyone wins, even though only one gets the gold. It doesn't matter if we don't win; we justify our condition. We don't want to win anymore--doing okay is good enough.

--GOOD ENOUGH. As if there were such a thing--

We are dying. We are weakened. We cannot see it--or maybe we would be healed.

I don't want to sound overemotional. I don't want to glamorize the situation. I am exhausted of living according to what I think is life.

Goodness used to be selflessness: pursuing the good, true, and beautiful, then spending one's life giving it away. Loving the unlovely enough to give them the means to find true beauty.

Goodness used to trust that the missionary pleading for funds was not out to steal your money--but out to heal lives.

Goodness used to remember that God is God.

Remember.
That.
God.
Is.
God.

Not haunting our steps, waiting for us to mess up.
Not lovingly patting us on the head no matter what we do.

He is God: He shows His love to all yet does not let the guilty go unpunished.

...

Who are we now? What have we become? Us who have seen his love and not understood his justice?

...

I long to be a godly woman of purpose and ambition to see God's will done on earth. I have never before felt so lacking in character.

LORD, have mercy on me, a sinner.

And thank you for men like Booker T. Washington.

The Flapping Endeavors of A Jumbled Mind.

Warm greetings to all—

So: Spaghetti Dinner passed remarkably well! We had a fun night, lots of leftovers (spaghetti at least enough for two dinners = YUM), and made a record for ticket-sales.

Onward and upward! I’m not going to apologize, because I like jumbledy posts, but I will warn you at least that I’m leaving this in my “language”—

I’ve found lately (okay, maybe not just lately but more lately) that my life tends to be jumbledy. And I like jumbledy. Problem: I need more order. I need more, consistent quiet time. I need to be still and listen to God—and my crazy haphazard way of finishing homework and chores leaves me just enough time to check all my email and websites but not enough to seriously think about God.

So I’m cutting out Internet for a week.

Starting tomorrow, I will not get on the Internet except for class. I will not check email, I will not go on websites: I will work on getting life in order. I’m going to see (as someone wiser than I once advised) what taking this out of my system does for me.

So before I take the dive, I’m going to celebrate my jumbledyness for what it is—this season in my life for what it’s been.

First. I just got an amazing new piano piece—Chopin’s Prelude in F# minor, Op. 28, No. 8. It moves me—the whirling, passionate 32^nd notes (32^nd notes!!! That’s what I said…) make my heart speed up, cause my breath to catch—

I love the piano.

However, my piano teacher groaned when she first saw it… “You HAD to pick the headache piece!!” But then she heard it and converted.

I love the piano.

Second. After reading through Claviger’s screenplay, I was intrigued… I dug out an old short story that could use some touch-ups, and I think it’ll work just fine to turn into a screenplay. I’m eager to see how it stretches me—what it will require of me—what I will require of it. Keep a lookout for The Second Hatchling.

Third. I realized that I’d forgotten some situations that scarred me a couple years ago. And that forgetting allowed me to heal. I’m very thankful for that, but now that I’ve remembered I don’t want to forget where I’ve been.

Fourth. I wonder, why do we need reasons for everything? Why do we to some degree require order of our lives? Why does knowing a person’s motives change our opinion of their actions—whether their actions are right or wrong? What might it say about our natures?

Fifth. My rabbit came running to meet me yesterday—I was so happy that I jumped, and he ran away!

Sixth. I miss all you dear people most dreadfully. I love reading your blog posts and your emails—you seriously make my day. So thank you.

Seventh. I seemed to have failed, after all, to jumble this up—everything’s numbered! Botheration!

Eighth. My dad and I are looking for books about the history of the church—from apostolic times. Basically, we want to study how the church changed from Jesus’ day to ours—where all the denominations separated, etc. Do you know of any?

Ninth. Is anybody going to the Biola University Day? Anybody? Because there is a slight chance that I can go!

Tenth. As I was walking from the garage to the house tonight, a silver sparkle caught my eyes—the moonlight reflected off of the beautiful blue tiles on my mom’s new brick patio—shimmery, water-like: I stopped and stared. It was simply lovely.

Eleventh. I’m quite sure my mother will ask when I posted this.  Mommy, it is 9:43 PM, and I love you.

Twelfth. I don’t like Halloween. I don’t like scary Halloween movies, or how scary Halloween movies are the only things on TV on Halloween.

However, I love punkin-carving parties.

Thinking back on this, I probably should have made that thirteenth. Whatever…

May you have a sudden unexpected burst of joy and understanding—

The burd.

Latin... and Labels...

Mea fratres et sorores

—sometimes I love Latin and sometimes I hate it—

anima - soul

avis - bird

benignitas - kindness

fabula - story

fortitudo - bravery
frater - brother

iustitia - justice/righteousness

lacrima - tear

luna - moon

lux - light

mens - mind

musica - music

natura - nature

nox - night

patria - homeland

pax - peace

porta - gate

sapientia - wisdom

silva - forest

spelunca - cave

soror - sister

stella - star

tempestas - storm

umbra - shadow

veritas - truth

via - way

vox - voice

virtus - strength

vita - life

So many beautiful words, beautiful thoughts... for instance, via veritatis means way of truth; vox vitae is voice of life; porta sapientiae—gate of wisdom.  I find it interesting that the English word virtue comes from the word meaning strength.

Words, words, words... We assign so much meaning to them; we try to force the essence of our souls into them... wrestle our puny thoughts into their hugenesses, or vice versa. I wonder which is trickier, big thoughts into little words or little thoughts into big words...

We name everything, label everything—nothing is that doesn't have a name. Even nonexistence has a name. (I wonder, does that mean in some indirect manner that nonexistence exists? HA for the purple unicorns...) People have names, and labels... We have long lists of names and types: some that we assign ourselves and some others assign to us.

My current self-inflicted labels include hypocrite, dreamer, wannabe, awkward, needy, distracted, etc.

(I think my favorite is etc.—which is Latin, I’ll have you remember...)

Why do we label? Does it come out of our nature, after God instructed Adam to name every living creature? Is it just part of how we think?

Does the word hypocrite sound so wrong because of the sounds, or because of the meaning? Does the sound intrinsically ring sour in our ears, or does the meaning alone make the word sound absolutely horrid? Or do both contribute to the word's hideous nature?

Truth—the sound is quiet, gentle, unmistakable.

Beauty—Latin, pulchritudo—

Goodness—

These words strike silence into my soul, reverberate throughout my being. They are small, short snippets of sound—barring the Latin, of course—they have no long, dramatic syllables—but they stick. And they matter much more than any of the others. They remind me of what I long to be:

WHOLE. Tota.

CLEAN. Munda.

PURE. Pura.

LORD GOD, would You transform my sarcastic, biting, pain-filled thoughts to truth, beauty, goodness—transform my mind, my body, my soul into that which is like Yours?

Gratias Tibi ago ob benignatem animorum - I thank you for the kindness of Your soul.

...

I wait for the day
work for the day
yearn for the day
for the coming of the light
and rejoice as it comes;


Standing tall
As the darkness falls.


I will not give in
By the grace of God:
I will remember.

...

The Wheatstone video came a couple of days ago—and wonder of wonders, I tensed up watching it— "What would they think of me now?"

Old doubts have re-inhabited my mind. Disgust. Pain. Depression.

No! They have no authority here; yank their throbbing roots out of your heart...

Oh, how much I want to remember!

Remember being part of a whole—not isolated.
Remember being happy.
Remember being satisfied, yet not complacent.
Remember being surrendered.
Remember being almost...

Almost who I wanted to be.