Make your Mark

It's a good sign, to be missing. And to be missed. We go far and take each our ways. Ah, our inherent gravities draw us back, to crossing points. Intersections are the loveliest points. Those we live for.

Lullaby

After spending a weekend playing "Parent" to some of my nieces and nephews it gave me a lot to think about. These are really good kids. In fact, I admire these kids. 

All my life I've disliked sleep. Fear of the dark is common among children, and I was just like the rest in that respect. My parents would leave the hall light on and the door cracked for me. I snuck many an evening to see what the older kids were up to. But those adventures will be saved for another day. 

 As far back as memory serves, indeed I remember such a night in a crib, when fear kept me from sleep my mother would come gently back to my side and sing a hymn to me. It's probable that all children love their mother's voice, but our mother truly does have a soothing sweet voice. She painted for me pathways in the mountains, the seaside, rose petals, breezes, lilacs, and meadows. But most of all she taught me of Christ. 

Now all of my nieces and nephews know at least one song by heart. I am a Child of God. It is our family's lullaby by tradition. A tradition that we all thank our mother for. 

Pillage the Village

Family is something that is often underrated in the world. But I can't think of anything that brings me as much joy except for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and the Gospel and my family are very intertwined. I grew up in a family that had prayer together every night and went to church together every Sunday.

Few things stick out in my mind the way that family prayer does. With 6 crazy kids it was never easy. Runners were sent to gather their siblings, but usually we'd just end up yelling "Greg! Time for family prayer! Sharla! Family prayer!" If we took to long Mom would say, "Last one there's a rotten egg!" So we always relished when Mom entered the living room last, and rubbed it in as children always will. 

Then we would all kneel on the floor together, sometimes leaning on the couch, sometimes sitting in someones lap, sometimes we'd even circle up and hold hands (though this was much less often), and Dad would ask someone to pray. As a child I always messed things up instead of asking God that "no harm or accident would befall" any of my family, I would ask that "no harm or accident would fall before us." I'm not joking. I said it every night in my personal prayers too. (Which my parents taught me to do when I was so young that I don't remember a time before I said my evening prayers.) 

It was hard work and chaotic to get us all there, but there was something very special about having prayer together in our home, thanking God for all He'd given us, and asking for His protection. Our home was a better place for it, and we are better people for it. 

After prayer there would be 3 minutes of chaos as we each zipped about making sure to hug every other member of the family, and to give our parents a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Now, I'm the youngest girl, and while for a number of years as a teenager I strove to seem as tough and strong as I could, the truth is still that I'm sensitive type girl, and a huggy one. So, being one of the very youngest, and comparatively small, I had no trouble darting about in the chaos and getting two, and sometimes three hugs out of people before they noticed that they'd already got me before. It was a challenge, and I loved it. Then my brother's and I would wrap ourselves around our father's strong legs and hold on for dear life as he gave us "foot rides" down the hall to tell us stories and tuck us in to bed. 

To this day when I come home my Father still calls us all to the living room each evening so that we can pray together and thank God for all He gives us. 

It just occured to me that I have my father's eye shape and my mother's smile. I really am their kid :)

underthoughts

.No. I don't have to publish this. I love this house. Might've just called it Charlie.  I love the colors of the walls, the wind in our trees, the big windows in the living room, the way my roommates are spread over the place, napping like felines. There is something magic in the view from the yellow hammock, currently giving trial to the name Lemony Snickett. Let me tell you about that view. It's got by blue jeans, my green nail-polished toes, the deep yellow ropes, a bar of dark rosey wood, the dark green and purple of the periwinkle, the peeling white paint of the old tipsy shed, then rising up the greens and silvers of the trees lit up with a soft yellow from the sun sparkling through against the blue of the sky. Life's soundtrack grows ever more enchanting here. Tonight we head to the lake with Chinese food. Check that moment off, though it's not the same without the originator, but she's good. Great even.  More than anything I wanted to go jump a train today. I better do that in the next few years, because I'm bound to get more practical. ...though the radical is still there, like a sleeper cell. I suppose part of it is just wanting the adrenaline rush, and the accomplishment of getting on. It's a big part. But I want to ride through the country side, those big doors thrown open, and the warmth of the day lightened by the air rushing past. I want to see the fields, green and golden. And then I want to jump off and land running before the cops can get me, because their never gonna get me. Eat it boys.
    And there's another thing too. I want a broader perspective. I'm so self centered. So self focused. So caught up inside my own head. A man cleverly pointed out the other day, that every person on earth had a completely different set of experience than I do. Even people I've been close with, even when we stood side by side, we stand apart in our feelings, thoughts, backgrounds, even body's.
    I am continually surprised by my ego. Even now, talking about myself, talking like I know. I don't have the answers. I just don't. I expostulate plenty. But the truth is, I don't know, and I don't know where to go to find out.

   So tell me instead: Who are you?

   
Life flies by. Yeah. It does. But it does beautiful. Lightening and laughter. And round here we pack it in, because we're young enough to feel the freshness of it, and old enough to know that there isn't too much time.

Silver and Grey

I find thunder storms fascinating.

 (start here)

 I crave them like most ladies crave chocolate. Maybe more so. Hard blowing winds, dark shadows, all grey and purple and the clouds roll in against the western sunset. Changing winds and winds that change. 

The quiet moment, somehow stiller, just before the lightening bursts open the sky and thunder comes rolling over you like a wave. It's like a rest in the middle of a song, and then they come back with a vengeance, turn and building. That quiet moment of the storm gives you half a chance to prepare for what's coming your way.

 The trees sway, the rains come pattering down to a beat and the world opens up and speaks to you. What you find, well that's your own business Fredgar. 

I'm thinking the electricity of it is what's getting me, reaches up under my ribs and thumps my heart in that way.  I think God intended it that way. 

     I hope by now you've made it to Spoon, cause it goes so well with...well..

Yeah....we did. 

 I felt tough, I can tell you that much. 

Better than most days? 

Round here, probably just as good. 

Dark Rider on a Butch Horse

A lake, two girls, the night time, the sky.

some fish, much splashing, lots of laughs, one good cry.

A bicycle, a flashlight, singing and then,

a Dark Rider on a Butch Horse came trotting in.

The girls they fell silent, the fish wouldn't splash,

the bikeman's light went dark, hope he didn't crash.

For the Rider on the Butch horse came out on the dock,

and the look of his face made everything stop.

He seemed quite distracted, off in other place,

but deep sense of longing painted clear on his face.

The horse was a light one, white and cleaned off,

but it's rider a dark one, like a strong smelling quaff.

Still, he'd not been drinking on this starry night,

nor was he ailing to open a fight.

He stared deep the waters, for to see the cure,

yes, his heart was quite broken, after love had been pure.

And the girls, they both new it, as the man on the bike,

and the fish, and the dock, and the lake and star light.

They cried out, Please no further, for you'll surely drown,

but the man on the horse seemed to notice no sound.

The dock started cracking, the two girls moved fast,

as the rider dismounted and kept walking past.

He stared all the harder, at a watery star,

and on the edge of his breath came the words, So...so far.

When to his surprise, the man on the bike

knocked the cowboy right backwards, then turned on that bike light.

He said, Buddy, I've been there. I've seen what you've seen,

now you've got to keep going, not remain in this scene.

You and I, we're both travelers, though we take different ways,

and the love in your heart, it is true, always stays.

But there's more to see out there, along the bike trails and paths,

and the horse trails, so get going, but don't go too fast!

For along all the seaways and byways and sides,

there will be another, kind hearted, who rides.

 And when you meet up, she'll start going your way,

then, friend and traveler, look back on this day.

Despair and darkness will soon have you stuck,

but if you get up, and get riding, you will soon find some luck.

You've been taught a great lesson, and it won't be the last,

but you've got to get where you're getting, not stay stuck in what's past.

So the rider, stunned yet thankful, took back to the shore,

then our biker to a path he'd not ridden before.

And the girls ate chinese food, and shared with the fish,

because fish like chinese food. It's a good tasty dish.

Rain Dance Maggie

Dani California

Can't get enough of em.