shouts of joy

Mary, run -- that king wants to kill your baby son. Run, Alien, run These days of our open arms are done. Peace on Earth, Peace on Earth! Good will to Men. Run, Black Child, run -- that man has a badge and he has a gun. Run, Schoolyard, run We just gave that angry man a gun. Peace on Earth. Peace on Earth. Good will to Men. Good will to Women. Good will to Children. Good will. --The Brilliance

Don't you know we want to laugh We want to laugh from our bellies till we cry. We also want to cry, Cry so hard together that our tears become a single stream. Do you know that we want to ask questions Asking questions to understand the words that were never said. Did you know our dreams make a braid of bright, bold, and daring Tightly woven into a contagious flu? We want to embrace for no reason and every reason.  We want to talk about anything and nothing. Didn't you know we want to ache, We want to know loss and emptiness Because we want to also know joy in full. Did you know we want to make noise, go out with a bang, But we want to be still and hear the beating of our own drum. What we need and what we want we don't know,  But we know we are creatures craving contradiction. 

I spend a lot of time in the car down here in this over-populated SoCal area. It's not as bad as I thought it would be. It can be rather peaceful with the windows rolled up and everyone blocked out for some quiet time. However, I'm learning that although I'd prefer to have quiet time in a more beautiful setting than my car and as much as I enjoy my quiet time, it is possible for so much quiet time to be a poor use of time for my emotional, spiritual, and physical well-being. It's easy to analyze too much, to add up all the little things and make them a bigger deal, or even wish things were different, to be jealous or calculate defeat. It doesn't always contribute to my positivity, sitting in the car for so many hours a day deep in my own thoughts. But I'm also learning that there are some Christian songs that really speak to me and get me excited and hopeful, I play them on repeat in the car and I sing along and dance along. I get excited with this new song by L...

A stranger, except for his stance and eyes reflecting in my rear view mirror red, blue and white flashing lights, a beating in my chest and there were so many red flags.  A sight so faint, familiar in a dream still reality in my veins recirculating like used library books ancient and neglected  a system of routine We're kids hide-n-seeking for fun love waiting for that affirmedness who will ride a roller coaster  over every bump in the seat eating pop rocks that make us laugh But we're adults trying to fit the mold desiring complexity, mystery, proficiency selfish promises and so many words explaining nothing and something with mere hope for approval One glance at a stranger  clear eyes of promises broken uncertain his stance   fixed in a rearview mirror  is enough. 

I'm afraid of losing a good thing, until I remember the days before. I forget that nothing was ever mine and each good thing truly is a big present wrapped up with ribbons and attached to it a note that says, "I love you, my daughter." I too often, take for granted those gifts. With each step along this journey there have been gifts, some small, some huge, and some I misinterpret all together.  Today, in this commonly warm inland empire it rained under dark, heavy clouds, drawing me back to my Western Oregon root. This week I'll be leaving this sunny state, where I've received blessing after blessing with my hands wide open, desperately reaching out. I hadn't expected so many good things at one time. I hadn't expected that it would become commonplace here in this big sunny state. The last thing I had expected was to fall in love with this smoggy, crowded, hot hell of a place. Love is a thing for the strong. Macrina Wiederkehr writes: Giving yo...

Sharing is a thing I don't do we'll. Too often I figure I'm just far t oo selfish to want to share with other people, but maybe my heart needs some healing. Maybe I'm selfish, but maybe I'm afraid of slipping from the place where we've been planted, from the safe strongholds that have brought so much healing. I understand that sharing a bowl of curry isn't going to hurt me, and somedays I really don't want to share my curry. And I know that sharing a skirt that has no sentimental value is going to be just fine. I get that. I share living space pretty well these days, and dirty dishes in the sink don't bother me like they used to. In fact I prefer to share some things. I prefer sharing a tent when camping, or a pot of coffee, a good book with lots of underlining, or a ride to the beach or mountains. However there are some things I'm having difficulty sharing lately.  Yesterday I was on Hayden Lake. The glorious jewel of a lake that has been my sum...

I forget things. Some things I wish I could forget, but can't. Then there are the things I wish I could always remember, like dreams and answers to prayer. Lately I've been remembering the pain that comes from loving and losing. I've forgotten how my prayers have been answered and that my dreams are coming true. I've forgotten about the times I've vowed to risk it all for whatever the case: adventure, service, passions, devotion and even love. I've forgotten how I've loved and been hurt, loved and been hurt, loved and been hurt and healed every time. I've forgotten how the impossibles become possible. I've forgotten the ones I admire and their stories of heartache, loss, rejection, brokenness and failures that lead them to their love, commitment, perseverance, strength and successes. Wow, how I've forgotten. Today I spent several hours over lunch with my friends Troy and Nick, good buddies from high school. We caught up at a small Lebanese jo...

Here we are at #teachersummercamp. Two of my teacher friends, Sonya and Chelsea, also took summer classes this summer. Sonya is a teaching principal at a small school in Oakhurst, CA and Chelsea is a teacher/chaplain at a school in Sacramento, CA. They are some of the best teachers I know with huge hearts and a passion for teaching about Jesus. I have enjoyed our #teachersummercamp adventures even though Sonya was at another campus several hours away, we've kept in touch. And every Monday we share/exchange articles, YouTube videos, or stories that we found entertaining or intriguing. These two women have been lifesavers over the past year. We started #teachersummercamp 6 weeks ago and have finally finished. They will start school again in just a couple of weeks. I'm glad that they are allowing me to stay a member in the teaching club even though I will be taking classes this year and substituting instead of teaching full-time. They bring sunshine to a cloudy day. Bes...

Balancing is an act for those who practice it right. Because we know that practice doesn't make perfect, but practice makes permanent. And what we know today, is that nothing is permanent. Permanence is a thing of the days before the unexpected. Before two towers collapsed in the great NYC. Before beautiful, young girls were kidnapped from their families and sold to strangers. Before the deadly waves of Allison, Sandy, or Katrina tore us apart. Before our unity broke. Maybe this act of balancing has been misunderstood. Perhaps we spend our lives searching for a perfect balance of purpose, love, and put-togetherness that only disappears as quickly as the ocean foam that disintegrates as it blows across the sand. Balance makes me feel safer than anything. Solid. Peaceful. Accountable. Responsible. Beautiful. Worthy. Unfortunately, I can't quite absorb that balance, nor what it feels like to be any of those things that come with standing in one place on just one foot, while the ...

--> This morning I drove toward the sun like a moth flies toward the lamp. I was reminded how gently the sun comes out everyday, so slow and patient. I lifted my hands up as I sang a song that has been my theme song lately, Brokenness Aside by All Sons and Daughters (if you haven't heard it, just Youtube it real quick). My word for the week is Gentle. I’ve challenged the young ladies in our Friday lunch book club to choose 1 word every week. 1 word in which we independently attempt to become more of every day. 1 word that might be challenging to put on every morning, but might add a sparkle to our wardrobe. They choose such hard words every week – Vulnerable, Inviting, Engage. The experiences they share when we meet every Friday are so fun. I’ve been so inspired by them. As the weeks begin their own dwindling spiral to a cliff’s edge, I have begun dwindling toward the edge of insanity. My mind cannot stop, I wake up at night recalculating the 1 million and 2 thing...

The year 2014 has contributed much to my education of the "real" world. Life in the "real" world is hard. There are too many decisions to make. Too many plans to finish. And far too much heartbreak. I'm rather disappointed. In fact, I'm so shockingly disappointed, that I'd consider calling it anger. I'm angry about all of these disappointments. It just doesn't seem fair sometimes. The other week my counselor told me I need to let myself feel angry and upset to prevent melt downs. This is practice. My disappointments anger me. I'm disappointed because I thought teaching would be more social and less isolating. I'm disappointed because my best friend and I don't speak anymore. I'm disappointed because I thought I was where God wanted me.  I've learned a lot about disappointments though. I'm reading from a book I received from The One Project last month. In it Pastor Alex Bryan shares a section on The Great Disappoint...

As I swam the other day, it was an easy decision to not use a stopwatch. After a couple of laps I seriously began to stress and internalize my fear of using the stopwatch. I denied it for another few laps, but with my fish-like movement in the pool I swam through a few of my own recent experiences with others who also could not try due to a fear of failure.  This must be what it feels like to be afraid of trying- easy to deny, but oh, so controlling.  I was afraid that the stopwatch would be too honest, tell me that I'm not fast enough, that I should stick to my day job, or maybe not even that. So in anger of my own fear I timed myself. Mostly, I'm convinced, I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't like the others, controlled by my own fear, and that I could indeed try hard and work for something, or simply that I could try and that trying isn't failing. So I swam and thought of nothing else except how to make my kicks more shallow, my strokes more full, and my breath...

She swung the door to my classroom open, as if it were her bedroom and then let it slam behind her. "Hey, can I sit in here and work on things?" Slightly confused by her abrupt, rather authoritative demeanor and immediate action to plop on the futon in the corner, I replied as cool as possible, "Sure." "Also, could I listen to music? Mr. S lets me, so you wouldn't be the only one."  As she began to pull out her phone and ear buds, I quickly reminded her of the school policy that still applies in my classroom: no phones, ipods or other electronic devices to be used on campus without permission. She didn't roll her eyes as far back as I'd seen before, from somewhere she had picked up my vibes and I felt a mutual respect. "Well, I guess I'll just read," was her next response. "Great," I answered, "'cause I just sat down to do some blogging." Since it was my prep period and my heart had been heavy with some pre...

The weeks add up so quickly, still I can still taste the faint molasses stick of others. I can't believe it's been 6 months since I moved to Oregon to teach. I can't believe it's been a month since my last blog post. It's been less than a month since I had breakfast with my girl friends. But I can't believe it's only been a week since I kissed my sister, my best friend, goodbye. It's only been a handful of days since I dropped the man of my dreams off at the airport and had to drive myself home. It's only a been a nights sleep since I felt together we could conquer the world. When I woke up this morning, just two hours ago, there was a very heavy thing sitting inside of me, pinning me to the mattress. A giant bolder, covered in molasses. And I'd like to offer myself a bit of self-pity, since I have nobody else to pull it from at this moment from where I sit here at my tiny desk in this dark corner. I am alone in this dark corner. Nobody else fe...

Rarely do I ponder how little my friends and family know me since I have begun teaching in this Northwestern rain forest. But today as I drove myself home after school I reflected on my poor blogging tendencies and I wondered if anyone misses the going-ons from this side. I can say that many days seem very similar.  And I wouldn't be the least bit offended if nobody took an interest. Class, lunch, class, gym, dinner, grade, bed. The scenes are in slow motion and repeat, yet somehow 5 months have been thrown into my lap. I'm learning so much. How grateful I am. Really. It's always fun to learn. The more I learn the more I can teach. And believe me I love having things to teach. You can never have enough. I'm learning a lot about teaching. Freshmen love stories, especially when they're personalized. But they must pretend it's a waste of their time so they can be swaggy. (But not secretly gay). Freshmen and Seniors (and faculty) all want the same thing. They wa...

I  believe  that in this very fragmented world we live exists goodness, peace and love. I  believe  that there isn't a more secure companion than the broken heart, but there is no better counteract-ant than a trusty side-kick with widespread arms. I  believe  in a single ray's undeclared revelation through sunrise.  And that even the dullest roses and lilies will turn any frown into a smile.  I  believe  the mountain top is the drawbridge to heaven. And geese are more reliable than any GPS. I  believe  sleep and water are the best cure for any ailment. I believe muscle exhibits larger numbers on the scale than body fat, therefore I am strong. I believe I am fearfully and wonderfully made, great are His plans. An open door to a closet whispers secrets, and any bathroom countertop can be read like a textbook.  True love doesn't draw lines, it erases them.  Emotions are the col...

The other night a group of us played a game that I'm all too familiar with. The messy tug-of-war battle begins in me every time the playing cards are handed out. The Ace cards representing each member of the murdering mafia, the Queen card is in the care of the one and only Dr. Quinn, the King card lies in the hands of the brave police officer, and every other numbered card signifies each misunderstood citizen. In the past I've been known to open the floodgates of tears during a stressful situation, or release steam out my ears when I've been betrayed. It's a game of bluffing and deceiving, and essentially inviting immorality into a circle of chums. A game I have yet to determine it's value. It's invigorating, no doubt, but afterwards I feel cheated, betrayed, violated, disrespected and absolutely no sort of unity or love towards my fellow groupies. But this time these feelings which erupted through my motions, language, and facial expressions seemed much too fa...

8am and the weather man said we'd have rain all day , all week, and I sit here comfortably with my legs crossed in the big pink chair in the formal living room. Admiring through the floor to ceiling window, I see the green of the forest and sunbeams stabbing through the swaying branches of the sky-bound pines. The sun has arrived so unexpectedly as if to say where is your faith?  and that gives me a very real sense of hope. Maybe our story isn't finalized when the weather man announces it on the local station. It's a tragedy that we cannot predict for ourselves, instead we rely on a man or woman we don't even know to tell us what the future will unfold. Yet, why would I trust myself? The voice inside my head repeats, You are good, but that's not good enough, because good enough is not perfect.  As I look outside again to see that the sun is still there, I know it's deceiving. Although it looks as if the sun could warm a body, it's a lie. There's no he...

As this is the day to celebrate mother's I think of my own incredible mother, by whom my entire being praises for her lifelong commitment to her three children. I think of Skip's mother. Emily's mother. Nick's mother. Katie's mother. All the mothers who have fought the evils of this world to raise beautiful children. Mothers who have voluntarily taken me in as their own. I think of a dear friend of mine, a mother of two sweet children. I think of another friend who has agreed to, in a few short months, single-handedly take on the role of a mother. I also remember another woman who has lovingly given her own for another woman unable to conceive. And another who adopted from the deserts of Ethiopia. There is another who has so desperately wanted to love as only a mother can, only to be crushed after a heartbreaking miscarriage. Yet, I am also reminded of the young woman who refused her motherhood and shut the door through abortion. And I think of friends who are anxio...

As of late, the Walla Walla skies have been a brilliant blue. School is out and substitute teaching is in. The grass is growing in thick and green, trees are blooming and the wheat rolls with grace through the valley. Swimming, running, tennis and decision-making are more time consuming than I predicted. Friends are too far, bike rides and camping trips are too few or none. A month long spring vacation was just what I needed. Southern California was a lovely sight, lush with wonderful people, laughing and hugs, so many hugs - much different and distant than the dust in New Mexico. North Idaho was chilly and relaxing with beautiful lake views, visits with friends, and a dash of snow. Now, it seems that Oregon will cradle my 24th year as I teach at the high school level. Somehow exhaustion has clung through the speed chase and finally burrows deep. Like a season of hibernation. My body has yearned for this Sabbath. And there's much still to come. I cannot wait to see what...