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

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 appreciate the act of acceptance. Just makes you feel bigger than before, brighter than before, like you have something to give. When you encounter a funny tattoo on a girls leg, and soon enough her smile relates to yours and the tattoo is part of a unique story that becomes your own and acceptance happens. When the truth of his story is revealed and before you can say another word you know by the depth in his eyes that his past is another life which he hardly recognizes and acceptance happens. When you sit down and focus on the eccentric young woman across from you and learn that her heart is more eccentric than her funky dress and layers of jewelry and that she speaks 4 languages to teach mothers in Africa about health and survival and somehow acceptance happens. Somehow the stories behind the frames can mold our perspectives. So often I feel that our outward appearances are overlooked and sadly what is stirring in our hearts is masked by the makeup, jewelry, colorful dresses, shap...

The other day, I took a bus from Pasco, WA to Portland, OR. Being the person I am, I marched up the steps of the bus with my backpack slung over my shoulder and tossed it in a vacant seat without any reservations. I listened to conversations around me as we waited for others to board and found them entertaining. But when we finally rolled away from the station my nerves began to escalate so I tried to sleep. Sleeping didn’t last too long and I began planning my next move if our bus was attacked. If a shooter was on board what I might do, or if the bus driver took a wrong turn down a dark alley, or if someone tried to take my bag. While I calculated my moves I played it cool by playing around on my phone and reading a book. With my hidden fear I sat quite alert for the rest of the 5 hour trip. Busses just aren’t the best form of public transportation these days. The common person flies, the more adventurous common person takes a train, and anyone else who can’t afford the alternati...

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 ...

I am loving teaching girls PE this final semester. Mostly because I always wished I'd had a safe place to experiment with and practice being kind to my body. I wished I had a safe place where I hadn't felt stared at and compared to. I love our girl conversations about femininity and modesty. I wish someone had told me in high school about modesty, how modesty doesn't limit your wardrobe, but gives a girl a beautiful backbone to stand tall instead of lowering herself to the desires of others. I wish we'd sat down in a circle where peers and teachers identified and encouraged our strengths, and told us that we might be tempted to seek our strengths from the love of boys, when we deserve to believe in and trust ourselves. I wished we'd had a place where it was safe to talk about our weaknesses. Where it was cool to be yourself, because after all it is in our weaknesses that the Water of Life runs deep. I wished someone sat me down and told me what heartbreak was like, ...

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...

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...

I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.  ~Audrey Hepburn

Each passing week seems like an entire year's worth of ripening. The fragile shell is aggravated by the harsh elements and is broken, torn, burned, pulled and pinched. Even so, beyond the fragile shell stands a barrier of protective muscle that fights against each affliction. Through the open wounds seeps fear and is carried to the power house, the life-source, the heart. It's there where fear is circulated and processed through each valve and ventricle and depleted of the waste to pump back out with intense power to refuel the shell with zeal and passion to continue protecting and ripening that which is most important. The heart. My heart hasn't failed me yet and am I ever so grateful. Yet it's endearing whisper is often times hushed by the combative shell surrounding it, denying it's childlike spirit, jokes and games, beauty, and zeal for life and love. Keep flowing heart. One day your shell will ripen and gush with sweet juices from the labor of your loving end...

I watched a documentary on the misrepresentation of women through media just the other night. There's so much I want to teach the girls in my classroom. And when I look into the future, so much I want to teach my daughters. I want to teach them to chase their dreams and never, ever stop. And that it takes bravery and courage to always be kind and loving. It's not easy, but no good thing comes easy. And that there is only One who is faithful to the end and will carry us through, and for Him and with Him we can bust out of the mold and carve a new path. As I read through my blogger dashboard of recent blog posts I came across this inspiring entry from Emily T. Weirenga: A Woman's Manifesto (and launching A Dare to Love Yourself) As a woman living in the 21st century  I will live as though I have a thousand daughters,  even though I have none, because every girl is my daughter and when she sees me, or engages with me, she's looking to me for how to live.  S...