Directionally Correct

A few from today

2007-08-21T08:34:00.001-05:00

The Forbidden City is gigantic. It really is a city. It has 9,999 rooms.

I walked around for 4 hours today, probably saw 1/4 of it.

Its very impressive, and very crowded.

I saw bronze water pitchers and serving dishes today that are 4 thousand years old. - Its hard for me to wrap my head around how old things are here.

Hooray for Roomservice!!

2007-08-20T07:48:00.000-05:00

Yum.

Eating

2007-08-20T07:31:00.001-05:00

Okay, so here's the hard thing.
Eating.
I can only eat what I can point to.

So - I ate at a street vendor last night. It was good, but nothing to go back for.
Tonight I wanted to go to a restaurant that I saw last night. (The Peking Roast Duck restaurant.)
I walked in. There was a hostess. I couldn't talk to her.
If I was able to get across that I was one for dinner, I couldn't understand her reply.
I probably could have worked through that - but, I didn't know if the menu would have pictures. Without pictures, I could be ordering squid in bean paste with a side of seahorse. -
(Last night, I saw a street vendor selling seahorse on a stick.)
So, I walked out.

I wandered the street more and looked in stores and listened to bands. Then, I decided "I can do this." I went to a cafe that I had passed three times. Its very busy, so I figured its good.
I steeled myself and walked in.
I watched for a while.
There was nothing to point to to place an order.
No way to learn the way of saying "dumpling".
Not really a way to point at what others were eating.
And, it was the type of restaurant where they call your name or number and you go get your food.
That won't work.

So, I walked out.
Have I mentioned that I haven't had a real meal today?
I've only had snacky stuff: trail mix, a bean scone from starbux, dried fruit...

I considered McDonalds or KFC - they were both on the same street. - But, I would really like to eat local. -I finally came back to the hotel for room service.
Not a place with local color, but at least its not a big mac.

Great Wall

2007-08-20T03:44:00.000-05:00

It was hot and muggy. But really, really cool.

Beijing - This is so crazy!

2007-08-19T07:52:00.001-05:00

I walked around the Forbidden City today, and then over to Tian'anmen Square.
Surreal.

I still haven't gone inside the Forbidden City - because, it was....forbidden.
I got there after closing time.
I plan to go back. Probably on Tuesday.
Tomorrow I'm going to go on a tour to the Great Wall of China. -- 6 hours. Take your own lunch.

I'm staying at the super-swanky China World hotel.
I rode the Beijing subway tonight (piece 'o cake!).
I'm really tired.
It's 9pm here, so I've got a few more things to do, then I'm going to call it a day.

Spooky is....

2007-02-06T08:48:00.000-06:00

Being cram-packed onto a subway car.
At least 100 people with you and you're touching 4 or 5 of them.
(some inappropriately - inadvertently)
Hurtling underground.
No one talks.
Its absolutely quiet from 96th to 51st.

Friday, er, saturday poetry

2006-11-18T07:06:00.000-06:00

east river morning

A faceted shimmer glistens
in front of a red brick facade.

The brick building faces south-east;
basking in the morning autumn light.
Bricks are orange, red, pink, brown and every variation.
Windows and fire-escapes at close-set intervals;
shadows in sharp relief in the bright morning.

A regular pattern of black and white
flecks shimmer in front of the red.
Swirling back, forth, around and upward:
Whites glinting in the sun;
Grays and blacks fading to the background.
Living patterns move.

The pigeons fly up and out -
flock travelling as one.

Friday Poetry

2006-11-10T08:16:00.000-06:00

Little girls in a boat.
Watching the lady come into view.
Mama with a tight hold on her treasures as they stand by the rail.

Liberty ahead.
Beacon high.
Home ahead.
Full of hope unseen.
Danger ahead.
Social safety nets left behind.

The fast-flowing stream of assimilation
pulls and tugs on the family.
Ties to the old world are stretched as the tide quickens.
Ebb and flow of joining a new society.
Cultural aid societies are pools of refuge.
Help offered by new friends
from the same corner of the map.

Little girls in a boat.
Breathless as the skyline and statue loom closer.

2006-11-03T12:05:00.000-06:00

Last years pocket

You never know it is
the last time
in the season
that you will
hang up a winter coat.

Maybe you didn't.
Maybe you threw it over a chair-
but the days got warmer
and the coat was hung
in the back of the closet.

Time passes;
the chill returns;
the coat comes out.

The pockets:
a window back
to what was important
on that last
chilly day of spring.

Ticket stubs from a movie night.
A receipt from a date for afternoon coffee.
Cheerios.
A kleenex from your late-spring cold.
The thing to look in a toddler's ear,
a distraction for the wait in the pediatrician's office.

2006-10-27T09:33:00.000-05:00

The camera broke on the ferry on the way over - but I got a few good pictures on the way!

Camera's Broken Poetry

2006-10-27T09:15:00.000-05:00

cameras broken - Oct 16

Crisp warm October day
Oange and yellow splashes on the glowing turquoise back
of the massive scuplture.

Breeze off the bay

A row of statues on the left.
These are the do-ers.
They made it possible.
The dreamer
Believed in the idea of liberty.
The sculptor
Created the model with her robes and crown.
The engineer
Designed a giant statement made of steel covered in copper.
The writer
Galvanized the effort, printing the name of those who gave pennies and nickels.
The poet
Immortalized the idea of yearning to be free.

This island was a fort defending the City in 1812.
The skyline to our left has changed since then.
Empire State is becoming clear through the haze. Chrysler still shrouded.
The southern tip of the island is glinting and glancing in the sunshine.
Perspective is warped here -
Buildings that stand far apart are snuggled up close in my view.

I stand
Below a colossus.
Implacable face.
Gold torch high.
Monstrous proportions from this vantage.

Strenghth and visibility.
Arriving today I told my girls about other little girls
that arrived a hundred years ago.
When they saw this lady, they knew they were almost home.

Ships go by in the bay.
People still flock to see the lady.
Holding the torch, toes showing under her stola.
Dreaming of liberty.

-------

As we leave, I tell the girls to say goodbye.
After several rounds of lusty goodbye's, Eli shouts,
"Bye, bye. I wub yooo, statoo of wiberty!"

Rosary

2006-09-22T10:22:00.000-05:00

The Rosary of my Steps

I would pray for those who serve, as they hold the door.
Give them your presence today. Cause me to serve others.
But, it is early.
With slow-waking muscles I trudge to the train.
Thoughtless.

Past the fruit man, I would pray (I will pray, tomorrow)
Thank you for our daily food.
Past the mosque on the corner. I would pray (I will pray)
May we all know your peace, and your Son.

Up the hill, I catch a glimpse of the cross on a church.
Finally, my soul awakens. I pray a "good morning."
Thank you for this day, Lord.
Thank you for reminders to pray.

The train.
Crowds with dull faces and eyes lowered.
Allow me to lift my eyes and heart to you, today.
The Hunter College stop
Teach me to prepare my girls for the day they go to college.
Realizing - what I faced in college, they will experience much earlier.
Teach me to prepare them. I want to fortify them with dependence on you.

My stop. I approach St. Barts -
the "Experience God" church.
I want to experience you today, God.
I pray that those around me do, too.
People brush past. Intercede for others.
God, may we know you today.
Who shall I pray for?

I wait for the light at a crosswalk.
May my crossings and decisions be led by you today.

The instinct to hurry, to get ahead,
Surges through me.
I forget prayer, and watch for opportunity.

I want to get to the intersection first.
I scan for bottlenecks in my path, and adjust my speed to win.
How quickly I lose focus.
How easily I revert to a state of nature.
God, draw my mind to you.

My day begins.
Lord, teach me to pray.

bath time poetic

2006-09-22T10:14:00.000-05:00

My arms are broken, and I didn't feel a thing.
The doctor on duty calls out,
"I'm out of pig-water. I need dinosaur-water to fix this.
Can you hand me that green dinosaur?"

They assist each other,
passing tools through the bubbles;
Squirters and sponges, the yellow plastic teacup.
I help too, although injured,
refilling animal squirters as needeed.

Warm water washes over my injury.
My doctors lavish gentle caresses on my arms.
They are serious about my treatment plan.
Regarding my arms with intense scrutiny
until they can declare that I'm whole.

The younger doctor's left hand gently squeezes my forearm.
At the same time, in the same rhythym,
her right nand squeezes water from a dinosaur.

The older doctor is bent over my arm,
telling me that everything will be all right.
My arms won't hurt for long. They are near a cure.
She brushes sponge up and down my arm.

Fortunately, I'm completely recovered with
Plenty of time to get the towels
and pajamas ready.
Soon I'll read the doctors a bedtime story
and tuck them in.

"The Ho'ses go UP and DOWN!!"

2006-08-30T14:22:00.000-05:00

The Birthday Girl!

(The brunette is our friend Debbie - she came to wish Elie a happy birthday, too!)

Almost 2

2006-08-30T12:16:00.000-05:00

We had Eliora's birthday party on Saturday.
We met up with friends at the Central Park Carousel at 10am.
It was raining at 8:30am. But - the rain let up and we had a really great time.
(Fortunate for us, because the "rain plan" was to meet at a gazebo which turned out to have a trellis rather than a roof overhead.)

Eliora had two friends there, in addition to Tressa. Zoe came with her parents Pete and Rebekah. They're friends from our church. Maya brought her Mom Gabrielle. We met Maya and family through a playdate that the nannies set up.
The girls each rode the carousel at least 6 times.

We had cupcakes that the girls decorated like a carousel (drink parasol on top, and gummi bears and animal crackers standing upright in the icing). We also decorated a cup with stick on horses to make our own "carousel."

Lots of fun.

After the party, Chris and the girls and I went by the zoo for a little bit. We saw the sea lion feeding, and watched the polar bear take a nap.

Hard to believe my little blondie is 2 years old.
And SO joyous. She's really developed a wonderful, energetic and playful personality. Everything she says comes out with a rush of enthusiasm. The last two mornings, she's gotten up, had a diaper change and then danced in the living room for as long as possible. She has a hard time sitting still and would usually rather be moving. But, she's also a snuggler. She'll come and sit in my lap just because she can. Or she'll clamber up on me and lay her head down on my shoulder. I'm not sure I want any more birthdays with this one. Well, of course, I DO. But, I hope that I can see her loving enthusiasm at every stage. (And the snuggles. I hope I still get the snuggles.)

Note to self:

2006-08-04T14:04:00.000-05:00

If you think
you look
really cute in your snazzy new hat,
[Pink, purchased because its a necessity in the heat.]
And you are feeling
generally pretty good
about yoga and toning muscles...

When you're walking down the sidewalk
And want confirmation -
A visual image of just how sharp you look -

Don't
Look

In the window of a compact car as you walk by.

Heat Wave

2006-08-01T09:40:00.000-05:00

I'm a little freaked out by the heat wave.
We got a note under our door last night reminding us what to do in case of a blackout.
Blackout = no electricity = no water, no AC, no light, no elevators.
(Okay, limited elevators with an emergency generator).

We bought a case of water and some portable food.
We found our flashlights.
We filled the bathtub with water.
We made our plans for how to stay in contact if we get separated.

I came to work in the midtown office today, but if there's a blackout I'll be walking back to the upper east.
I'm staying home tomorrow.
People were surly on the train this morning. It will only get worse as it gets hotter today.

Sunday evening picnic in Central Park

2006-07-27T08:32:00.000-05:00

More....

2006-07-27T08:27:00.000-05:00

Note the backdrop...

2006-07-27T08:20:00.000-05:00

This morning

2006-07-27T08:11:00.000-05:00

I'm sore and achy - slept with too much tension.
Stepping along uphill to the subway as fast as I can,
but, I have to relinquish my outside lane.
I'm on the slow track this morning.

This week I walked past a film set.
The trailer doors had labels:
Costuming.
George.
Gracie.
Dead body.

Pass the Experience God sign at St. Barts.
Pray that I do.

I walk past an art gallery.
The splash of color and
Definiteness of shape
awaken and sustain.

I go inside the building where HP has offices.
I am always intimidated on the elevator.
We share the space with Saks fashionistas
And investment bankers with personal shoppers.
Even on my good days, when I try to dress the part,
I'm no fashionplate.
My wardrobe is better suited for teleworking.

It doesn't help that the inside walls of the elevator are entirely mirrored.
No escape for those who'd rather be oblivious.
A city of mirrors for the obsessively image conscious.

In the office, I look across and see a lush area, trees and grass with bushes.
From here, it looks more natural than the other rooftop gardens.But this forest is 18 stories in the air.

Bedtime songs

2006-07-26T08:11:00.000-05:00

Monday night as I put the girls to bed I sang,
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me.

It was a very hectic bedtime, but they both got still at the song.
By the time I got to the next verse, Thank you for hearing me,
I got choked up and cried.
Gratitude.
Recognition that God is there.
Recognition that God is teaching my girls about himself.
Teaching me about himself.
Love.

As I sang the words, Tressa watched my mouth intently, and her mouth moved along with mine.
When I finished singing, Tressa said "Mama, you're dripping!"
I laughed.
We talked about Jesus and what to do if you're lost.
The 3 year old mind!
I had introduced the "Thank you for saving me" verse, by saying that if we are lost or need help Jesus will take care of us.
So, when the song was over, she wanted to know what to do if we're lost.

I told her that Jesus will always be with us and take care of us if we're lost.
"Yes, but what do we DO?" -- So much like her Mama!
I answered it literally, since that is how she thinks.
I asked her name, and her Dada's name and her address.
She knows our names, and does pretty well with our address.
She could probably get help and get home if lost.
I'll pray that she remembers Jesus part, too. I pray that will go deep.

Tuesday night I put the girls down separately.
When I put Eli in bed, I sang the Thank you song.
She sang right along with me. Toneless and loud, slurring the words.
Gorgeous. Heaven stopped to listen.
Then, she wanted to sing, "Diddle fiddle & cat"
So, we sang, "Hey Diddle Diddle," too.

When it was Tressa's turn to go to bed, we sang it again.
She watched closely and moved her mouth along.
I stroked her hair while I sang, and she watched to see if I would drip again.

Sunday night.

2006-07-26T08:10:00.000-05:00

I have really great pictures from Sunday night.
But, I have to figure out the blogger picture tool. It timed out on me twice when I tried to post before.
So, pictures coming.

Poetry - delayed due to rain

2006-07-21T11:11:00.000-05:00

Yoga

Sitting straight.
Breathing deep.
Feeling the extra-sensory-tingling
feeling that
I used to feel

When I heard God talk.

Now, I stretch and lift my heart
to the sun.
Breathe through my nose:
Cat. Cow.
Tree.
Warrior One.
Plank.
Cobra.
Downward facing dog.

I am present.
Parts of me awakening that
I haven't felt all
Day. Year. Longer.

Concentrate.
Feel.
Listen.

God is not the sun, or this body with heart lifted.
But, I am present.
I AM is present.
I can hear - dimly.

Friday Poetry Returns (for this week, at least)

2006-06-30T09:53:00.000-05:00

Perspective

It feels good to step out of the bustle.
Good to get away; back off and
See the city's lights sparkling across the water.

It feels disconcerting to get that bustle--
Buildings,lights and noise-- into scale with reality.
Identify a truck going past the building and mentally measure the truck's true size.
In this frame, it looks tiny, but reality is much bigger.
The building is mammoth when adjusted, a sparkly toy no longer.
My mind resets the size of the rest of the city accordingly.

It feels terrifying to apply that adjusted scale to the world
and think of a tiny blonde and brunette tucked in bed.
Watched over by a nanny we first met two weeks ago.

So tiny and alone in such a huge sea of light and movement and strangers.

It feels good to dive into the melee, returning to the bustle to be near
our hearts. Tucked into our apartment, close enough to hear their breath
And waking giggles.

Off-topic

2006-06-19T12:45:00.000-05:00

Lots to say - we moved.
Aimee is my hero. Totally.

Probably more on all that later.
In the meantime - a coke & mentos fountain.
This one's for you, Aimee!

Family Fun Day

2006-05-22T06:30:00.000-05:00

[This is for the girls' journals. They're packed. I'll put it here, then print later for posterity.]

Yesterday we had a "family fun day". After afternoon naps, we got up and went to see a "Movie". In the "Movie Theater" (spoken with a fitting amoung of reverence and mystery). This was a first for both of you. We saw "The Wild", which is about animals that leave the NYC zoo.

Since it was your first movie, I didn't know how you would manage through. We went expecting that you might only be able to stay for part of the movie. Nope - you both loved it!

Tressa - you sat in your own seat and shared snacks with Dada. You talked a little bit, and you seemed to really follow the story. When the nighttime NY skyline was on the screen - we talked about moving there. You were thrilled. When the movie was over, we waited until most of the credits were done. Then we started out. You were very upset in the hallway, and when I suggested you go to the bathroom, you just about lost it. We went anyway. After you cried and fussed, you were finally able to say, "Well, I'm crying because I want to stay at the movies longer." Sweet girl. Its hard going back to the "real world" out of an imaginary talking-animal world. Especially when the real world is cluttered and crowded with boxes, and a lot of your furniture has been moved to your basement.

Eli - You sat back in my lap and ate popcorn and M&Ms out of my hand. When the supply was empty your little fingers scrabbled across my palm looking for more. You watched intently and pointed out the lion and other animals. When the squirrel fell down you squealed, "He fall down!" You were a little less interested the last 20 minutes or so, but you made it through the whole movie.

It was a great family fun day. We all needed that. We needed a break to be away from packing, and a time to do something together. Yea, God, for Sunday afternoons.

Friday Poetry - au courant...

2006-05-12T23:02:00.000-05:00

Yellow at 18 months

Taking a shower, preparing to go out.
Date night.
Late afternoon sunlight falls from the open
window and filters through my yellow striped shower curtain.

The door bangs.
Someone is in the room;
A giggle, throaty chuckle answers my greeting.
I hear a tinkling melody -
the song of the pale yellow toy teapot.
The curtain pulls back,
A small hand stretches in holding out
an offering.
"Wan tea?"

She holds a plastic Easter leftover,
half an egg upturned in her hand.
The imaginary tea from that yellow cup is
the most refreshing drink I've had all day.

Friday Poetry - from 1981

2006-05-12T22:58:00.000-05:00

(I wrote this in 2nd grade.)
From the collection:
"Poems/Poems/and/More/Poems
Written and illustrated by Laura Hamilton"

Sunning

Old Dog lay in the summer sun
Much too lazy to rise and run.
He flapped an ear
At a buzzing fly.
He winked a half opened
Sleepy eye.
He scratched himself
On an itching spot,
As he dozed on the porch
Where the sun was hot.
He whimpered a bit
From force of habit
While he lazily dreamed
Of chasing a rabbit
But Old Dog happily lay in the sun
Much to lazy to rise and run.

These days

2006-05-09T11:39:00.000-05:00

I figure anyone who reads this is probably also checking Chris' blog.
That has the updates on life for now.

Apartment. New York. Moving.

Life is busy.

More to come!

Friday

2006-03-10T14:06:00.000-06:00

Okay, no poetry today.
I spent my time this morning writing in the girls' journals. The entries were way overdue.

Here are the highlights:

Eli spoke a sentence this morning when a book fell and hit her feet.
"Oh no, feet hit that."
She knows the sounds for a boat-load of animals. Including elephant (which she empahtically calls "eff-unt", donkey and rooster.
She's hilarious, as she neighs with gusto and moos by saying "mmmmm." -- Oh, yeah, a frog says (wait for it....) "wid-dit".
She'll also mimic just about any word you say, these days. She's started to be good at rolling or throwing a ball, and her stacking toys fascinate her.

Tressa loves to tell stories and learn rhymes. She surprised me lately by learning the whole "eeny-meeny-miney-moe" rhyme by heart, after I'd said it only a few times. It's long, especially with the whole tiger and 'my-mommy-told-me" part!

Tressa has a hard time understanding where people live and where they work. Yesterday she kept saying that the librarians must have been in the library all night. I told her that they go home at night, they don't sleep there. She insisted, and even hypothesized about where the kitchen is and where the beds are at the library. This morning it dawned on me why she can't figure out the difference between a workplace and a home....(duh!) -- Both her parents work from home. We say we're going to 'work', and go to the basement; or we sit at the dining room table and work. No wonder she thinks the librarians live at the library and her gymnastics teacher never leaves the gym.

Both girls are totally beautiful.

Pyatnitsa Pahyem (Friday poem)

2006-03-03T15:56:00.000-06:00

One Day

One day you'll think I'm wise and beautiful and you'll identify with pieces of who I am.
But not before you examine and internalize and rationalize and possibly reject my choices as a woman, as a mother.
But not before you grudgingly admit I might have understood a few things.
But not before you despise me and my placid mommy-life as I set your teenage curfew and ask about your friends.
But not before you roll your eyes. Embarassed while I taxi you around town.
But not before you spin and twirl around the living room - excited about your first sleepover.
But not before you lose your first tooth.
But not before you finally get to sleep tonight. After my last visit with water and a pacifier and a tissue to put under your pillow.
But not before I blow a few more bubbles that shimmer down to the bathtub and land on your wet hair.

Friday Poetry

2006-02-24T15:53:00.000-06:00

3

You drink water from a seashell while
you perch on the bathroom counter and watch your Dada shave.
You make up words to describe your world.
You argue with us about things that you have no way of knowing.

You mother your bunny: putting him to bed, strolling him around the house.
You share.
You give sweet goodnight kisses to your sister.
You like to Rodeo, riding on your Charley horse.
You had a cowboy birthday.

You are convinced that if you cry louder and longer,
you can get what you want. - Often,
you are right.

You love to read.
You know most of your books by heart and correct me if I skim or abridge.
You are a princess in your fancy dress-up dress.
You have no qualms that there is a freckle on the end of your nose. I kiss it whenever possible.
You demand "Pat me!" every night before bed. Most nights, one of us pats.Sometimes its a joy, sometimes an inconvenience.
You are rambunctious then shy; Loving then a terror; Wise beyond your years, then acting like a child.

You are lovely.
You are loved.

Friday [Saturday] Poetry

2006-02-18T12:14:00.000-06:00

Grief

There is a black and white charcoal
On the wall, 'Grief.'
I look at it, arms folded tight but careless.
My casual eye flits around, rests for a moment.
My mind is on the coming day.
Preparing for the day's stresses and petty wars.
Making defenses ready.

I glance at Grief - a 2 by 3 foot
Closeup.
I notice the african nose, pursed lips.
This is not my grief.
My defenses mount.

I notice the deep crease
above the bridge of the nose.
The furrowed brow.
My arms imperceptibly loosen.
I breathe deeply.

I see the eyes.
Closed, downcast.
I feel the tired circles underneath.
Exhaustion.
I put my hands in my lap.
The eyes are compelling -
the vulnerability of pain.
I experience the art.
Defenses down. Arms, shoulders and body
Relaxed.
Fortified for what comes.

Friday Poetry

2006-02-10T10:50:00.000-06:00

This is a little dated, but I'm on a deadline here!
Also, I don't want to wait until fall 2006 before I post this.

Fall Haiku

Wind howls through the night
Throwing all color to ground
Winter is here now.

Friday poetry

2006-02-03T22:02:00.000-06:00

What I Want for My Girls.

Can it be a poem?
Rather an epic, unending List:
Qualities
Ambitions
Destinations
Mannerisms
Characteristics
Preferences.

Hardly fair.
Do mothers have to be fair?
Yes.
For the sake of future love, future dinners
future phone conversations with a grown child.

What I want for my girls*:
Love God, learn God's ways. Learn God's heart.
Stand tall.
Be you.

*Reserving the right to amend.

Friday Poetry returns

2006-01-31T07:00:00.000-06:00

Bits and Pieces

She brought me bits as we walked along:
A pebble from the driveway.
A twig, a scrap of dried leaf.
Held out in hands with a feather touch.

I traded her the leaf for a blade of grass.
The exchange was weighty, valuable.
Each frontyard treasure offered as a gift.
Magnanimous presentation.
Then a wordless question mark in her tiny voice.

I took the bits and told her about her world.
A mama-thing.
“This leaf came from a tree.
See the tree?”
“This is a rock.
Feel it. Is it smooth or hard?”
“Touch that bark, is it rough? Scratchy?”
“Do you feel the sunshine? Do you see the squirrel across the street?”

I made sense of the bits of the world she brought to me.
Put them in context. Painted a picture.
Called out her senses.
Showed her where she fit in.
Helped her go a few steps further in her tiny stutter-steps.

A mama-thing, and a God-thing.
I bring bits of life,
Held out in questioning hands.
He shows me the world with new eyes.
Calls out my senses to teach me about life.
Helps me walk a few steps further.

"Do you feel the sunshine?
Do you see this day I created?
Do you see how much I love you?"

Games with God

2006-01-31T06:34:00.000-06:00

I read something recently that seems silly, but is totally what I've been drinking from spiritually lately.
Cowpi wrote about MarcoPolo. Yep, the swimming hide and seek game. The entry was just a note - but it got me thinking. The gist is - when you call out "Marco", God is always answering "Polo!"

I think everyone has their own default set of fears about God. What they think about God's nature when they aren't thinking. Or, what they believe about God when they are stressed or in distress. Some people think that God is be angry at them. Some fear that he will hurt them. Some believe that he is spending all his time with other people.
My default fear, the one that surfaces in me unasked, is that God is not going to answer. I easily believe that he's gone away, or he is near but, perversely, choosing to withhold his presence.
So, I play MarcoPolo - because there is only one response to "Marco!"
Sometimes the "Polo!" is a whisper. Sometimes it is deafening - a surrounding roar. But it is always there.

"Marco!"

Posting - RIGHT NOW!!!!

2006-01-13T23:01:00.000-06:00

We're at Josh & Aimee's.
Chris keeps flying the bird toward Aimee, when he's not throwing up.
We're in Houston waiting for the Houston marathon.

Go Chris Go!!!

Test Picture -- Fen's nephew!

2005-12-31T15:17:00.000-06:00

Trying out the blogger post pictures function. Seems a LOT easier than "hello".
This is Fen's nephew, Spiderman.

Have a great New Year's!

Poetry

2005-12-17T11:04:00.000-06:00

December Morning

The light is arriving
in this quiet Dark.
Invisible clouds are becoming
Pink.
Cotton candy puffs strewn
accross the sky.
Stark winter trees reach up.
Day has come.

2005-12-16T17:40:00.000-06:00

Okay, this is way more detail that anyone wanted. -- But, I'm including this picture from an angle so you can see all the teeny-tiny felt pieces.
laura

2005-12-16T17:37:00.000-06:00

In case you missed it, here is the Manger Longhorn. Yes, the longhorn was there, welcoming the birth of the Savior.
laura

2005-12-16T17:36:00.000-06:00

Here's the advent nativity scene that I've made out of felt. It looks really flat here, because of the flash - but every piece is separate, and each color is a different piece of felt. We're doing it day by day and adding a new piece each day. We haven't actually gotten to the days for the wisemen or manger yet, but wanted to include everything I've made so far. Fun times!
laura

Hahahahahahahaha

2005-12-12T11:19:00.000-06:00

Angels We Have Heard Are High

Yea!
Thanks, Going Jesus for putting the Merry in Merry Christmas.

Our christian-ish culture is sinking to new lows. Or perhaps has already sunk.

2005-12-07T17:22:00.000-06:00

Look at those smiles!
laura

2005-12-07T17:21:00.000-06:00

Honk.Honk. Look at Eli's face -- that captures the moment. Those geese were MEAN!
laura

Long overdue

2005-12-07T14:45:00.000-06:00

I didn't post on my birthday or the following weekend.
Because I was having WAY too much fun with the Woods! All of 'em: Josh, Aimee, and Baby Shaun. Much food, much card playing, lots of talking. Good times.
And, Aimee and I almost got mauled by a gaggle of geese at the park. Don't worry -- we got pictures.

Thanks for coming up, guys.
It was a WONDERFUL surprise.

Love y'all.

Wohoo!

2005-12-07T14:43:00.000-06:00

Did y'all notice? Diana posted!!

Probably had nothing to do with me, but I'm still going to take full credit.

Way to go, Diana.

Now, why don't you have comments, so that I could harass you on your own website?

Love you.
Laura

Calling All Dianas.....

2005-12-06T09:46:00.000-06:00

Okay,
I'm putting out a "hit" on Diana.
Diana, Dirty, Nomad, you know who you are.
November has come and gone. It is time to blog again.

You'll see me other places.

Love, Laura

2005-12-06T09:35:00.000-06:00

Peekaboo Fishy
laura

Peekaboo Fishy

2005-12-05T07:47:00.000-06:00

Eliora and I play peekaboo
through the fishtank.

Bubbles float in front of her face.
Neon colored plastic plants wave
in and out of view.
We laugh.
She disappears,
Dodging to the right to peek
around the edge of the tank.
Then she's back,
face smooshed on the glass.

She toddles over to my end of the tank
and plants her nose on the glass.
Is the view better from here?
No.
"Its time to change sides."
She has told me in her oh-so-subtle
one year old way.

I go to the other end.
Peek, smile and laugh.
The game is like the bubbles:
Fleeting, luminous, perfect.

Advent Season

2005-12-01T06:38:00.000-06:00

God, send forth your light and your truth. I wait for you this Advent. I'm waiting for the Savior.

Things aren't the way that I think they should be.

A friend who loves God and pastors and shepherds faithfully is in a situation that is going to feel desparate very quickly.
Another friend, a pastor from years ago is struggling to keep his head above the waters of depression and psychosis. His wife and children love and pray and wait.
And yet another friend, one who only recently believes Jesus, is faced with how to love her husband and friends with a new heart. Seems they prefer that she had the old, dying one. But she prays and perseveres.

I want to take up the banner of my brand of American Christianity. I want to tell God (and I have) that those who serve Him deserve to be safe. They deserve to have a minimum level of physical comfort, and they deserve at the very least to keep their sanity and personality.
Don't they?

Jesus never said that. He promised it'd be hard and He would be our peace. He said that He is our Light, our Way and our Door. He is our bread to eat.

God - today, I pray that you will give the kindgom to those that are poor in Spirit. I pray that You will comfort those who mourn. I pray that you will bequeath to the meek the whole earth.
Satisfy those who are hungry and thirsty for You. Show mercy; allow the pure to see you; and speak clearly to Your children.

Those are things that Jesus DID say. I pray my friends will know it today.

Meeting God - everyday

2005-11-30T16:03:00.000-06:00

Here's what I'm finding as I do my "intentional time with God" everyday. (I will go to ANY lengths to avoid the words 'Quiet Time'.)

The first day was wonderful. I was so proud of myself. I felt so energized and spiritual. I learned and heard many things that I considered posting on the web. - I didn't post because I wanted to make sure that I didn't do this in order to post on my blog.

So, anyway, the 2nd day I was tired. And I didn't "hear" anything or learn anything new about myself or the world. All I focused on was my lack of focus and clarity.

This morning, the 3rd day, I overslept. Still had a shortened time. Very utilitarian. Good things to chew on during the day, no fireworks.

Reminds me that any discipline is a discipline. You choose to do it each day. Not because of a reward you can recognize or feel, but because you are becoming disciplined and its essential (not necessarily fun).

I've also seen how quickly I want to quit something new that I take on. If I can't see the rewards or enjoy good feelings about it, I'm ready to throw in the towel. (Wow. Ugly.)

I like this. I mean I hate it. I mean I like it.
Thank you, God.

Post holiday

2005-11-28T16:06:00.000-06:00

I've been scanning the blogs and websites that I usually read, and I'm very frustrated. No one is posting anything new to entertain me!

Then, I realized how long its been since I posted.
I've been mentally crafting that "perfect post" - but the longer I wait, the more "perfect" the next post has to be.

So, here is a brief update.
We travelled for Thanksgiving. Good time with family, lots of little kids. Not very eventful.
We decorated for Christmas on Saturday. Eliora has been carrying around a headless Joseph. The nativity set is not childproof at all, and this particular Joseph has been headless since last year. Tressa has asked if she can eat candy canes almost non-stop since we first put them on the tree. We let her have part of one each day. Walking the thin line between the sugar rush tantrum and the "I don't get what I want" tantrum. (Ah, the joys of two and a half!)

It snowed a very WET inch or two yesterday.
We went sledding in the park. The snow was so thin, we were mostly sledding on goose poop.
(Canadian geese think Amarillo is a vacation mecca.)
But, the sledding was a LOT of fun. We made about six or seven runs, then we were all soaking wet and we went home to a fire in the fireplace, and some hot chocolate.

Big holiday projects:
A felt story board nativity advent calendar.
I'll be cutting out donkeys and angels and sheep until Christmas, but I think it will be pretty cool.

Great news!!! An old friend has decided that she believes that Jesus is true. Been walking on cloud nine about that for a week, now.

I've decided to be intentional about a set aside time for me and God every day during the Advent season. Using Northumbria Daily meditations, and advent readings.
(Yeah, yeah, should have that way all year, but its not, so we start where we are, no?)
That's it for now.

Friday Poetry Extravaganza (3 of 3)

2005-11-04T12:07:00.000-06:00

Walking at a toddler’s pace
Provides time. A gift.
Look with fresh eyes.

Dried leaves fall from the tree to go bowling
Crazily down the street in
Unpredictable lanes.

White-yellow leaves shimmer high against bright blue.
The sky spotless.
The light, neither hot nor cold,
Splashes the street with color.
Pumpkins accent porches with orange.
Red and brown trees spread across still-green yards.

A moment full of gold. Priceless.

Friday Poetry Extravaganza (2 of 3)

2005-11-04T12:06:00.000-06:00

October Morning

Morning sun dappling the world.
Fall-specked leaves
Filter the clear light.
Letting fall an impressionist’s view of the flowerbed.
Crisp fall air makes the world a palette.
The artist nearby,
Almost in our field of view.

Friday Poetry Extravaganza (1 of 3)

2005-11-04T12:04:00.000-06:00

Germ Warfare

Cough.
Hack. [Phlegm] Gasp.
Daughter two sounds like Darth Vader breathing in her crib.
Snort.
Sniffle. Wheeze.
Daughter one has fevered eyes.
Listlessly watching a video while wrapped up on the couch.

Both adults are sickly petulant.
Taking care of what we can.
Feverishly wash hands, dishes, surfaces, snotty faces.
Creativity running out as fast as the Kleenex.
Patience as solid as jello.
Passion as tepid as a bedtime sippy cup.

Kind of like "she", but with more ooomph in the "sh".

2005-10-29T10:05:00.000-05:00

Lifted this recipe off the web. -- I'll include my modifications below.

Oblomov Borsch
I invented this recipe in a fit of nostalgia over Moscow and named it after Oblomov, a famously lazy character in Russian literature, because I wanted this recipe to be very easy. Once again, I know borsch is often served cold but this is a hot recipe, like how I used to have it in Russia.
1 tbsp. oil
1 small sweet onion
6 cups or so chicken or vegetable broth (I prefer Swanson's)
4-5 potatoes
4 beets
1/2 head green cabbage
1 tbsp. vinegar
1/2 bunch fresh dill
regular or light sour cream
Chop onion well and simmer in oil in large soup pot. While that's doing its thing, peel potatoes and chop into bite-size pieces. By the time you're done with that, it's time to add the broth; I usually toss potatoes in at the same time. Cover and increase heat to bring to a boil.
Meanwhile, chop ends off beets and scub well. I usually peel the beets, and since the skin is thick this means cutting it off with a knife. (There's probably a better way to do this.) After you've peeled the beets, chop them into bite-sized pieces and toss 'em in. Soup is probably boiling by now; reduce heat and uncover.
Simmer about 15-20 minutes.
Chop cabbage well and set aside. Chop dill well.
Add cabbage and vinegar to soup. Add about half that dill you chopped. Cook an additional ten minutes or so, until the cabbage is soft.
To serve soup. pour in pretty bowl. Top with a small scoop of sour cream and a sprinkling of more fresh dill.
Tip: There is a delicious Russian soup called shi you can make which is basically borsch without the beets.

So, what I did was leave out the beets, add carrots (2 - cut in slices), and halve the recipe. I still used two cans of broth, and even added about a cup of water. (Its very dense per this recipe, so I guess it just depends on how "soupy" you want your soup.)

I didn't have fresh dill, so I used about 2-3 teaspoons dried dill in the soup while it was cooking. The dill is strong stuff. The whole creation took about an hour and a half
DON'T leave off the sour cream when you serve. (You can modify to about a teaspoon per individual bowl.) That's the best part.

Enjoy.

Russian-y

2005-10-28T10:26:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling very Russian-esque these last few days.

I woke up thinking about Russia. I read an article in Pravda, and understood about 3/4 of it. Did you know they are about to bury Lenin (or maybe just did) in a "Christian" burial? -- And, did you know that some American offered to buy Lenin's shrunken little body?

Then, last night I made schi. Totally good Russian soup, like borscht without the beets. It turned out really good. Let me know if you want the recipe. But, if you ever did that crazy cabbage soup diet, this will probably give you unwelcome flashbacks.

Every now and then I'll get a longing for Russia. I learned a lot there, about Russia, history, the world, and about me. Plus, at the time I went, Americans were kind of like movie stars, and you just don't get that everyday.

Chris and I are may be going there next summer.

This concludes the Russian interlude, now back to our regularly scheduled program.

2005-10-26T16:07:00.000-05:00

Tressa at Thomas the Train!!
laura

Conversation with a 2 and a half year old

2005-10-26T15:59:00.000-05:00

Me: We're going to see Judy in here.
T: I don't know her.
Me: You met her, almost a year ago, we had dinner.
T: When I was a little girl.
Me: What are you now?
T: A big girl.
Me: When were you a little girl?
T: Well, I think I was a little girl a year ago.
I'm a big girl now.

Sure you are.

2005-10-21T17:30:00.000-05:00

I guess humidity could be a good thing....
laura

2005-10-21T17:29:00.000-05:00

Eli finds her nose.
laura

I know....

2005-10-21T17:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, it was just a little "priming the pump" to get the juices flowing...

Friday Poetry -- 21 (1st Haiku)

2005-10-21T17:03:00.000-05:00

Long drive to see friends
Congratulations, Pent’nys!
Be back soon. Love, Seals.

Weather in Amarillo....

2005-10-06T10:59:00.000-05:00

Right now, Amarillo is Cloudy, and the temperature is 45°F.
Feels Like 38°F.

Here comes winter!

Friday Poetry - 20th

2005-09-30T09:35:00.000-05:00

Ezekiel 11 and 36

What does it feel like to have
A heart
Of stone replaced
With a heart
of Flesh?

Ripping, tearing?
Crushing, grinding?
Deadness pulled out.
What next?
Hollow cavity.

A strange warmth.
Beating.
Blood coursing through dry veins
Filling the body.
A new sound pounding in the temple.

A living heart.
Fresh, untouched,
Except by the
Hand that put it there.

Sunday Early Service

2005-09-25T13:43:00.000-05:00

Sitting in church this morning:
Very cynical, a frequent feeling in my chosen church.
Feeling controlled by the [wonderful, godly] man at the front who likes to makes people stand up or sit down on cue. Hating his emotive solo that, I presume, should inspire awe in me. It really inspires cringing. Excellent music however, programmed and manipulative.
Feeling ridiculous, noticing that we all stand up and then preen: straighten suits, unrumple shirts or swish-out our skirts. Its important, surely, to be presentable for God when we sing to Him. Or, maybe its just that we’re all aware that the fashion police do attend our services, and surely “those watching on TV” are really watching local programming at 8:30 am to spot the fashion faux pas.

So, there I am, trying to talk myself off the ledge.
Balancing on the very thin line between cynically analyzing every facet of the service, and, well…not. I assume the opposite of cynicism would be openness. An attitude of reception that would listen for what God was saying. But, it was too early. I can’t really say that I was struggling between cynicism and listening for God. The farthest I could get was cynicism and Not.

Then, we stood on cue, we preened our little selves up to our Sunday best, and we sang the song that had been selected weeks ago and was available at number 14 in the hymnal.

Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation!
O my soul, praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation!
All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near;
Praise Him in glad adoration.

Praise to the Lord, Who over all things so wondrously reigneth,
Shelters thee under His wings, yea, so gently sustaineth!
Hast thou not seen how thy desires ever have been
Granted in what He ordaineth?

Praise to the Lord, Who hath fearfully, wondrously, made thee;
Health hath vouchsafed and, when heedlessly falling, hath stayed thee.
What need or grief ever hath failed of relief?
Wings of His mercy did shade thee.

Praise to the Lord, Who doth prosper thy work and defend thee;
Surely His goodness and mercy here daily attend thee.
Ponder anew what the Almighty can do,
If with His love He befriend thee.

Praise to the Lord, Who, when tempests their warfare are waging,
Who, when the elements madly around thee are raging,
Biddeth them cease, turneth their fury to peace,
Whirlwinds and waters assuaging.

Praise to the Lord, Who, when darkness of sin is abounding,
Who, when the godless do triumph, all virtue confounding,
Sheddeth His light, chaseth the horrors of night,
Saints with His mercy surrounding.

Praise to the Lord, O let all that is in me adore Him!
All that hath life and breath, come now with praises before Him.
Let the Amen sound from His people again,
Gladly for aye we adore Him.
I found this online. In the hymnal, there were only the 4 [bolded] verses, but I thought I’d include it all here. Here’s another auditory sample, this one without the weird humming.

The first verse stopped me. Drew me into a place where cynicism isn’t allowed. A place where God is. – We were all still the same bunch of preening and self-centered people – but for a moment, I praised God.
Sadly, I can’t even say I made it to the 4th verse without the cynical commentator in my head getting fired up again. – But for a few moments everything that we get wrong - as a people and as a church - didn’t matter. For a few moments, I was able to worship, because of who God is, regardless of my surroundings.

I would say I’m still transitioning – and that the adjustment from housechurch to Big Church still causes discontinuity. It causes moments when I look on as a dispassionate observer. But, to call it a transition is not really accurate. I’ll never get there. The style in which I can most comfortably lose myself and worship God with abandon will not happen in this gilded sanctuary on Tyler Street. I will not transition and get used to it. The lesson for me is to worship, regardless. That seems right. I would have said for years that worship should happen regardless of circumstance. But, I always had outlets where I still got to sing songs where I could close my eyes and raise my hands. Until now. My attitudes are far behind my thinking, and now, I’m really seeing how far the gap is.

Praise to the Lord, the Almighty the King of Creation! Oh my soul, praise Him...
Thanks, God, for those moments of worship that are TRUE.

Evacuate the Evacuees

2005-09-22T23:20:00.000-05:00

Chris and I are up at the Amarillo Civic Center with the other crisis adrenaline junkies.
They are expecting 1000 people who have evacuated the Gulf because of Rita.
Last time, "they" also said 1000 were coming, and we only got 100 people from New Orleans.
Those people are now all in apartments, with furniture. Several are finding jobs, and many say they plan on being permanent Amarillo residents.
So, here we are this time.
Waiting.
The place is definitely prepared. A few families have already trickled in. They drove themselves out, and are on the way to family in other places.
Soon, a plane will land with some people that we have heard are Katrina evacuees that were in Beaumont, and will now be here.

Waiting....caffinated....people watching....

Parades make me happy.

2005-09-17T12:26:00.000-05:00

We just got back from the Tri-State Fair parade.
We saw horses.
We saw firetrucks.
We saw marching bands.
We saw grown men wearing fezzes riding around in circles in tiny cars.

Fun times.

Friday Poetry (2 for 1, part 1)

2005-09-16T17:44:00.000-05:00

Faces

All those shades of beautiful faces.
The census tells us the faces are mostly brown.
And poor.

Some weren't poor, but now they are.
What they had, washed away.

Some are the richest ever -
They've found and been found.

Some are poor in ways money can't replace -
They've lost and they won't find.

But they will continue.
Far away, in a place never visited,
Probably never imagined.
A place with no ocean, no lakes, no Hurricane.
Maybe these new faces will bring jazz
To this unimagined, unvisited,
Welcoming place.

Friday Poetry (2 for 1, part 2)

2005-09-16T17:41:00.000-05:00

Tiny

Tiny fingers so smooth
Liquid cool
Play across my hand, my arm, my face.
So delicate.
Reaching to steady as she stands.
Brushing past as she grasps.
Tiny, the softest pressure barely felt.
So perfect, I wait for the next touch.

So smooth liquid cool.

Eliora and her tiny hands.

2005-09-16T17:16:00.000-05:00

New Orleans on my mind

2005-09-15T09:26:00.000-05:00

Vision for New Orleans
I read this vision/prophecy/dream a few days ago. It's really stuck with me. Gave me lots to think about. Lots to pray about.
Thanks, Derek. Who I don't know, but with whom I have people in common.

There's also a followup post. A spiritual interpretation/analysis of the events after Katrina by Amy.

Open our eyes to see, Lord.

Breaking news...

2005-09-13T22:30:00.000-05:00

This just in, from "Doppler Dave", one of Amarillo's weathermen:

This isn't the kind of cold front that blows in and takes the shingles off your house. Its the kind of front that just eases in, so if your weiner dog was outside today, it's probably okay.

What???!?

I was laughing out loud, and Chris insisted that I knew what Dave meant. I.honestly.have.no.idea.

Birthday Pictures

2005-09-09T15:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I posted the pictures to Flickr. (Link in title, although it doesn't appear underlined.)
But. When the pictures uploaded they reversed order. So, before the birthday party, you'll see us playing at the park.
Of course, the reversed order really only matters if you're looking at these as a slide show, and notice the cake magically disappearing from Eli's face!

Enjoy.

D*&%M SPAM!

2005-09-06T10:12:00.000-05:00

Aarrgh.
The spammers got me.
I've hidden the comments on the last post, and now have set up the secret password word verification option.

Hopefully that will take care of it.

We're back from Red River.
We have 1000 NOLA refugees in Amarillo. Pretty sure they must feel like they've come to the end of the world.
Of course, 1000 is nothing compared to the 200K+ in Houston...

Chris' brother Scott is in New Orleans.
He evacuated, but is now back, as a resident at the only working hospital in New Orleans.

Okay, folks, goodbye now.

2005-08-30T22:08:00.001-05:00

Swinging.
laura

2005-08-30T22:08:00.000-05:00

laura

At the park

2005-08-30T22:00:00.000-05:00

Here. There.
Back and forth.
Ebbing, flowing.
In harmony then out of sync.
Laughter.
Closer...farther.
Giggles ring out and taper off,
Rise and fall.
Increase...diminish,
Crescendo again.
Happy glissandos running the scales up and down.

Squeals of delight.
Summertime.
Swinging.

E is 1 year old!

2005-08-30T15:18:00.000-05:00

Sorry, the title is a tease.
The pics are coming soon. -- But, today is a crazy day, so it will have to happen later tonight.
Besides, technically, she isn't one year old yet, so I should get a grace period to get the pictures posted.

So, posting sometime tonight after dinner, bedtime, laundry, and starting to pack for our weekend in NMex.

Born into Brothels

2005-08-20T21:58:00.000-05:00

Wow.

We're using this tomorrow for Sunday school. Talking about situations that are really hard, seemingly impossible in the world. And what Jesus might be calling us to do about them.

Friday Poetry 17th

2005-08-19T22:32:00.000-05:00

Cathedral

Ancient, by immigrant standards of the Southwest.
A place of the faithful.
An example of tenacity,
God's presence.
Vibrant colors.
Solemn chants
Call to reflection, meditation and praise.

They come.
For entertainment:
Something different, something historical.
Wandering about in the lazy-footed gait
Of tired tourists.
Some are quiet, respectful, meditative.
Some bored.
None are thrown to the ground
With the urgency and necessity
of the Spirit-Life God offers.
None are weeping with joy or contrition.
None are abundant.

I listen for God.
I observe all of us.
I wander on.

---Santa Fe

The signing continues...

2005-08-15T15:01:00.000-05:00

Pretty soon I'll transfer all this to Eli's baby book, and quit boring those who read this blog.
.... Come to think of it, that's only Aimee and maybe Chris. And, Aimee, you are contractually obligated to act interested. So, maybe I'll just continue updating with the latest signs.

So, this weekend's entries were:
Dada (Yes, this was after MUCH prompting by Chris.)
Ball (I think she'd made the sign before, but it was clear on Friday, when my Mom said "Ball" in conversation and Eli started smacking her hands together.)
Tressa (This morning Eliora was nursing in the living room, and we heard Tressa waking up in her room. Eli sat up and said "Teh-tah" and made the sign for Tressa.)

Aw, cute.
Is there an emoticon for *too-much-saccharine-sweetness-must-barf-now*?

Friday Poetry 16th -- Gasp its actually Friday!

2005-08-12T14:52:00.000-05:00

Seashell

There's a seashell imprinted
on my arm.
Delicate spirals
Left there
By my sleeping baby.
Her ear leaving a
multi-dimensional transient tattoo.

I can think of no better use
for that particular patch
of skin with the freckle.

More Eliora Signs

2005-08-11T14:55:00.000-05:00

Here are other signs that Eliora has in her "vocabulary."
Ball
Hi/Bye (waves count!)
Water

She also has a happy shriek that will curl your hair.
And an angry yell that will make the banshees run.

Eliora Signs!

2005-08-08T21:26:00.000-05:00

Eliora has been signing for a little while.
She can sign:
All done
Cat
Dog
Grapes
More
Eat
Bubbles (sort of)
Music (sort of)

But tonight, this prodigy child that lives in my house communicated a phrase.
I was feeding her grapes, and her tray was empty. She signed (I kid you not)...

"All done.
More.
Grapes."

Genius.

Poetry

2005-08-08T21:12:00.000-05:00

I'm tempted to change Friday poetry to "weekly poetry" -- because, clearly, I'm taking liberty with the meaning of "Friday".

But, I'm trying to be disciplined about it, so bear with me.
I think if I didn't at least shoot for each Friday, it would never get done.
Self-imposed guilt can be a useful tool.

Friday Poetry 15th

2005-08-08T20:56:00.000-05:00

Santa Fe, Summer 2005

The street performer/artist matched her palette:
Brown hair
Green shirt
Mauve pants
Bare feet.

Bark
Fresh leaves
Dried roses
Yellow blossoms.

I've seen mandalas, prayer wheels.
Never understood how they could
Be transformative.
They look tedious. Penitential.
But I watched.

She created, slowly and laboriously.
Stepped back to examine from all sides.
Made tiny adjustments:
Barely perceptible flaws corrected,
Beauty enhanced.

Contemplation. Focus. Meditation.

I -- So driven to permanence, memory, lasting-ness --
wanted to scream:
"Don't you see? This won't last.
You're arranging flower petals on a walkway!
Its not enclosed or hermetically sealed.
Anyone can walk through.
A breeze can blow.
A storm IS coming, you know!!"
The wind picked up, as if on cue.

A gust blew through.
She laughed and danced a jig.

Then, I got it.

Another gust, she made adjustments,
As carefully as ever.
Sorted things out, reworked
A new piece with elements of the first.

It's Life.

It's not perfect.
Not sealed.
It won't last unmarred.
Perfection isn't available, and people
Will walk through.

But, beauty is possible.
The process is worthwhile.
Creation and recreation, with
Attention to the details.
Joy, when our 'masterpiece' gets muddled.
In each creation, Emmanuel.
God in each moment.

Contemplation. Focus. Meditation.

Rough night...

2005-08-04T07:15:00.000-05:00

Somebody please tattoo
Children are a blessing from God
on my forehead today

'cause that's the only way I'm going to be feeling it.

Thanks.

Tressa’s bedtime prayer one night earlier this week:

2005-08-03T16:02:00.000-05:00

Jesus, thank you for today
Thank you that I can pray good.
Thank you that the wolves* won’t come in and get me.

Mama, what color is inside the wolves’ mouths?
Pink, like Kodiak’s.

In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.

(*often pronounced "wolf-es")

The Three Little Pigs and Little Red Riding Hood are taking their toll.

Friday Poetry 14th - This Week's

2005-07-28T23:24:00.000-05:00

Weaning Soon...

Quiet morning.
Eliora’s up too early
I still have work to do, Monday morning deadlines to meet…
Nursing her, working on the laptop at the same time.
---Stop---
These moments won’t last forever.
In fact, the countdown is coming. I’ll finish nursing in a month and a half.
Stop.
Look.
Touch her sweet head.
Caress her hair. Look into her eye, watching me.
Feel the warmth of her body, the coolness of her legs and hands.
Sweet baby.
Deadlines will wait.

Weaning Soon...Part II

Caressing a tow head
As I hold her in my arms.
Stroke her cool cheek.
Pray healing for her ears.
Protection for her hearing.
Pray that she can hear God.
Tiny hand runs along my arm.
Grasping. Tiny fingers pinching.
Exploring my hand - fingers, knuckles, palm.
Legs lay relaxed on my lap.
Stay in the moment.
This moment.
Remember.

Friday Poetry the 13th - Last Week's

2005-07-28T21:15:00.000-05:00

The walk had grown long.
Baby in my arms, sun beating down.

The air was grainy.
The hazy sun's unexpected
springtime heat almost gritty.
Thick air crackled and buzzed.
Cacophony on a quiet street, an insect roar.
We rounded the corner,
(Trudging now.
One goal - to get the fair one
out of the hot sun.)
And stepped into an oasis.

Silent air surrounds us.
We stand
Immobilized by the moment.
Feeling it.
A green umbrella
arches over, sheltering us
on all sides.
The buzzing outside mutes.
The living sponge soaks up the sound before it reaches our ears.

She reaches up to the verdant sky.
Emerald and jade air refreshes us.
Hands stretch out.
Tiny hands reach to touch the coolness.
Face in the breeze,
trying to catch it.
Gently smiling as it touches her cheek and chin,
ruffling her hair.

A moment of green.
Whispering calm in the middle
of the hot peripheral world.

2005-07-21T07:10:00.000-05:00

Big layoffs coming in my work-world.
Primarily US, primarily Operations *gulp* -- that would be me.
But, specifically Finance, HR, IT -- that's not exactly me.
I realized the other day that in this climate I listen more critically when I'm talking with a new work contact. Then I think, "You're expendable. You don't really know what you're talking about." I evaluate the person with a barrage of unasked questions:
"Are you more useful than me? Are you more visible to management? Have you been here longer? Are you more useful to the company?" And,of course, "Do you have a blog?"

Its Corporate Lord of the Flies.

Church Billboards are the Worst!

2005-07-19T12:52:00.000-05:00

Signs seen around town lately:

COME ON IN!
THE CHURCH IS PRAYER CONDITIONED.

LITTLE BO PEEP HAS COUNTED HER SHEEP
AND EWE "R" MISSING.

Pretty sure that if I thought God wasn't relevant to my life and/or didn't exist....
this would convince me.

Potty training

2005-07-17T21:01:00.000-05:00

Here's a phrase that will make the mother of a two and a half year old get up and RUN.

Mama, I'm sitting on the potty a NEW WAY!

How to Be Good

2005-07-17T17:51:00.000-05:00

I just finished this book by Nick Hornby.
I relished it all the way through, or at least after the first few chapters when I got into the rhythm of his writing and became accustomed to the British-isms.
For the first time ever, I finished a book, then turned back to the beginning and started again.
A few reasons I liked it so much:
Katie - The main character is self aware enough to know when she does stupid things, but not always in control enough to stop herself.
All the characters are enmeshed in this desire to "be good" -- seems really indicative of our human condition.
We want to be/do good. We are also totally self-centered prigs (to use the British).
There are spiritual quests happening.

I think in the past I would have read this and thought it a really good descriptive of a life without Jesus. -- It is.
It's also, it turns out, a really good descriptor of the life of a person who knows Jesus. Jesus, unfortunately, doesn't save us from being selfish and doing stupid things.

I liked the book because it put into words all the stupid things I think, and don't even know that I think. Ways that I justify my excesses and still find rational reasons that I have some elements of moral superiority. Ways that I go around trying to make myself believe that I am "good". (Or, at the very least, I am better than some others.)

Good reminder that I'm never going to be good enough.
The books has a pretty bleak finale, but I ended being very grateful for a God who knows that I am not good. -- And still loves.

2005-07-17T17:33:00.000-05:00

Eli
laura

[Friday Poetry 12]

2005-07-17T17:24:00.000-05:00

Too conflicted to squeeze out poetry.
Too many secrets to eke out truth or beauty in public.

Living in a land of vastness
Under a wide open sky can be very
Claustrophobic.

Better to be unknown, or widely and intimately known.
Casual acquaintance is the killer.

Directionally Correct

A few from today

Hooray for Roomservice!!

Eating

Great Wall

Beijing - This is so crazy!

Spooky is....

Friday, er, saturday poetry

Friday Poetry

Camera's Broken Poetry

Rosary

bath time poetic

"The Ho'ses go UP and DOWN!!"

Almost 2

Note to self:

Heat Wave

Sunday evening picnic in Central Park

More....

Note the backdrop...

This morning

Bedtime songs

Sunday night.

Poetry - delayed due to rain

Friday Poetry Returns (for this week, at least)

Off-topic

Family Fun Day

Friday Poetry - au courant...

Friday Poetry - from 1981

These days

Friday

Pyatnitsa Pahyem (Friday poem)

Friday Poetry

Friday [Saturday] Poetry

Friday Poetry

Friday poetry

Friday Poetry returns

Games with God

Posting - RIGHT NOW!!!!

Test Picture -- Fen's nephew!

Poetry

Hahahahahahahaha

Long overdue

Wohoo!

Calling All Dianas.....

Peekaboo Fishy

Advent Season

Meeting God - everyday

Post holiday

Friday Poetry Extravaganza (3 of 3)

Friday Poetry Extravaganza (2 of 3)

Friday Poetry Extravaganza (1 of 3)

Kind of like "she", but with more ooomph in the "sh".

Russian-y

Conversation with a 2 and a half year old

I know....

Friday Poetry -- 21 (1st Haiku)

Weather in Amarillo....

Friday Poetry - 20th

Sunday Early Service

Evacuate the Evacuees

Parades make me happy.

Friday Poetry (2 for 1, part 1)

Friday Poetry (2 for 1, part 2)

Eliora and her tiny hands.

New Orleans on my mind

Breaking news...

Birthday Pictures

D*&%M SPAM!

At the park

E is 1 year old!

Born into Brothels

Friday Poetry 17th

The signing continues...

Friday Poetry 16th -- *Gasp* its actually Friday!

More Eliora Signs

Eliora Signs!

Poetry

Friday Poetry 15th

Rough night...

Tressa’s bedtime prayer one night earlier this week:

Friday Poetry 16th -- Gasp its actually Friday!