Practicing Relationships.

I sense a tension between the ideal of authenticity and the desire for others' good will. I wonder, do we really want to know others' true state of heart? Or would we, would I, rather just have them lie to me so that I feel appreciated--so that I feel accepted? I might readily accept the latter, I find to my dismay.

Are we supposed to outwardly appear to accept what inwardly we despise, in an effort to love?

From the one side, it's so hard sometimes to put kindly what I mean kindly--to let someone know that what they do offends me. Not that it's not worth it; I'm trying to figure out if it is worth it. If it is--then I must at least try to do it.

My struggle is that if they don't understand, it's so difficult to make amends. And if they do understand--it's still usually difficult to make amends. It seems to break relationships rather than fix them. But perhaps the breaking is part of the fixing--like re-breaking a broken arm that is healing crooked.

From the other side--in thought I would rather have someone tell me the truth, but in reality I am not sure. If the person loves me, cares enough to put it kindly, and help me learn to do better, than I would welcome it. If the person does not care, then in the first place he or she probably wouldn't bring it up, but in the second place would not try to say it kindly and probably hurt me.

How is love supposed to show itself? Is it more loving to gruffly let someone know I don't care--or to appear to listen while inwardly seething? How disgusting that I must ask the question.

...

How confusing our way of talking is! Yet it's so plain, teasing. We pretend to offend, pretend to be offended, and underneath the whole we love each other. And where we have to try to be kind, have to appear to accept--there often is the person we struggle the most accepting, and who senses it the least.

How strange it would be to talk without a mask, that really isn't a mask. Is a transparent mask so bad? Those who know me see through it, and those who don't don't care, usually.

...

I wonder why we don't notice the little things that show others we love them. Things so simple, so easy--but they require stepping out of our comfort zones, letting down our hair a little, letting go the "that's mine!" mentality, opening up. I never realized how private we are, how mine I've made the things I claim.

I wonder what meeting an open soul would be like--someone whose heart was open, and welcoming--and no matter what happened there--loving. Who knew when and how to overlook, and when and how to be overlooked.

Peeking Out From My Past--The Second.

The Forest.



In the forest, quiet and deep

Where some like to play, and others sleep

I like to sit and think awhile

Of thoughts and dreams that make me smile

And in the forest, dark and deep,

Where I like to think of things so sweet

There is a stream, a bubb’ling brook

In which I love to sit and look

Upon the lovely waterfall

And think not to be there at all

On eagle’s wings I fly away

To dream of things of coming days

For in the song of the bubb’ling brook

At whose waters it is a joy to look

Is a song of songs, a hymn of joy,

And Fantasy is a tink’ling toy.

A song of joy, soft and complete

For a dreamer-girl am I

And I love to lie, O dreamer I

In the forest, by the water’s side.

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?

Noel (which just so happens to be part of my name...)

Sit still.
The silence
wants
a word.

...


Christmas.
The lull before the storm.
The time of preparation,
of promises kept
and of hopes lost.
Of all our dreams crashing
around our heads
and our souls coming to life.

Christmas.
The times we'll never have again
but have forever.
The warmth of reconciliation.
The icy distance of self.
The cheer-coated pinpricks.
The awkward "family" hug--
but it's alive
warm-blooded.

Christmas.
Songs--
of hope and of despair.
Of the burden falling off--
and realizing the burden was there.

Christmas.
Make room.
Scoot over.
Move out of the way for the King.

Christmas.
Let go.

Christmas.
Watch.
You'll never see this again.
Ever.
You can't rewind, fast-forward--
this is now.
Life is now.

Where will the Christ-child be this year?

A song of worship.

Hello--

The word seems to reverberate in my head tonight. It's been a while-- 

I'm working on many things to post--which will probably appear soon and very soon--but only this is ready right now. I have music to it--but unfortunately no equipment or experience recording. Eventually something might happen. But I'm not sure anytime soon. I'm still fiddling with the melody anyway.

Until then--if then--enjoy the lyrics. I'd love to hear suggestions as to better rhyme patterns, refinement of the theme... I think it still needs work but I'm not sure where.

...

(Verse 1)
You are my Banner
You I will follow
Wherever You lead me
There I will go

You are my Savior
You I belong to
Though I am sinful
You made me Yours

(Chorus)
I know I'm safe with You--
I know I'm safe with You--

(Verse 2)
You have a strong arm
You hold my weak heart
Whenever my hands fail
You are my strength

You, Lord, are righteous
You, Lord, are holy
Your love is unfailing
Your justice my hope

(Chorus)
I know I'm safe with You--
I know I'm safe  with You--
I know I'm safe with You--
I give my all to You.

(Bridge)
Every prayer You answer me
Every day You meet my needs
Every time I am alone
You are there

I know I'm safe with You.

I know.

I'm safe.

With You.

Salutations

1) Hear: "Hey! How are you?"


2) Part A: Think: "Hello. I appreciate how much originality you put into your greeting--it truly communicates how much you care. I exist through the grace and power of God just as I have before now and just as I always will. 


Really? I'm tired.


It's so nice to see you--your smile makes my heart glad. You remind me that God is bigger than my circumstance. And you don't even try. I'm amazed at how unique and wonderful you are--what God has wrought in you. But what's going on in your life? What are you struggling with? What makes you happy, and what makes you sad? Is there anything God has shown you recently that has totally transformed your perspective?"

2) Part B: Realize that might be awkward.

2) Part C: Say "Oh, I'm good. You?"

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.