we just finished passing out a whole basket full of candy to literally hundreds of kids at mom and dad's house in poplarville tonight. they come in to go trick or treating by truckloads from all of the neighboring communities and have such fun.
i heard this week that the tradition of trick or treating started in the u.s. to cut down on the number of pranks pulled on all hallows eve; instead someone came up with the brilliant plan to give out "treats" to keep the kids from "tricking" the whole town. hence the famous,"trick or treat!"
i dressed schmi up in a spider costume i found at the local consignment shop and she got many compliments! i have to admit, she was adorable!
we had lots of fairies and pirates, pumpkins and puppy dogs, butterflies and monsters. the little girls eyes danced as they walked timidly up to us in their snow white and cinderella gowns and the little boys couldn't keep the grins off of their faces as they demanded candy behind masked super hero faces.
even the parents got into the act. what fun to see mothers proudly holding up lady bugs and poodles! fathers dressed in funny wigs to make little ones laugh and carried bags to the door apologetically for sleeping ones who had long since passed out for the night.
we had our fair share of scary creatures also and i think that is fun too. i remember reading in Nevada Barr's non fiction work about her life how important she thought it was for all of us, even little ones, to have one night where we have to face down our fears. not that i think its ok to just go around scaring little kids unnecessarily, that's not what i mean at all. its just that i think it can be really wonderful to have chances in our lives to look uncertainty in the eye and stare it down. perhaps our fairy wings or our super man muscles will help us, or so we hope. its a good feeling to let your heart race sometimes, to feel the blood pumping through your veins and keep on walking, to be someone else for one night, someone who maybe has the courage to the face the fears we may not have in everyday life.
and there is just something magical about walking down an otherwise dark and scary, moonlit street holding your fathers hand. knowing that he is protecting you from the older kids up ahead in scary costumes. knowing that he knows the timid one behind the mask who is tyring hard to be brave.
i think sometimes the things we dressed as when we were children are really not masks at all, but mirrors. the princesses just want to feel pretty. the monsters just want to feel empowered. the heroes just want to feel purpose and mission. if only we could dress ourselves in our passions, as well as our fears in order to stare down them both. aren't they the same things when you really think about it? i know sometimes when the road seems to stretch ahead of me and God pulls back the veil just a bit for me to see the next step, i get so excited, but also, so scared.
this week my very best friend bought a house and it got me thinking about life and uncertainty. about how hard it can sometimes be to grow up, but how we have to make those big decisons none the less. and about the things in my own life that i fear. but that i am also passionate about. sometimes its easier to wish we could go back to the days where we can throw on the muscles and masks when its time to make those tough decisions.
its never easy to decide to walk down dark and scary streets when we don't know for sure whats up ahead.
trick? or treat?
but i have to remind myself, the Father is there holding my hand. He knows my timid heart and the ache its felt. He knows the fears that no one else knows. and He is the reason that i can be brave. after all He has made the way so that we can walk with no fear. as His children we have nothing to fear. even death itself has been conquered by Him, and so why would we fear our very lives?
as i look up at Halloween's full moon tonight i am reminded that ultimately it reflects our Lord, and i pray that i might reflect him too.
POEM OF THE DAY:
AFRAID? Of whom am I afraid?
Not death; for who is he?
The porter of my father’s lodge
As much abasheth me.
Of life? ‘T were odd I fear a thing
That comprehendeth me
In one or more existences
At Deity’s decree.
--e.d.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
a sparrow and a jay...
its a funny thing the words we throw around. like invisible balls bouncing all over the place, in and out, up and down. we duck, or swerve or ignore them completely, but every now and again one hits us square in the face.
when i first heard the word i was just a babe myself, too young even to understand what was really happening. momma has told me stories, of course, of how i was so excited. how i played alone in my wading pool that summer and cried because no one was with me to play with. how she had to explain to me that when the baby did come it would be her baby and not mine. even before she was born i tried to boss her, "well when my baby comes!" "no, jayna lea, its my baby." but i think i still thought she was mine. you can see it in my eyes in pictures.
i remember colorado. sleeping together in the big bed. how she would never keep her mittens on in the snow. how she looked sitting up there on our horse, flame, as daddy held her. my cuddle bunny. my banana incident accomplice. (you will have to ask someone who knows.)my snow angel.
i remember meridian.how we spent endless nights skating at the gym. how we played endless days on the swing set. how once i tried to move to my "own room". momma tried so hard to make a comfortable bed in the laundry room for me so i could have my own place in our small three bedroom house, when i begged her, but i only lasted one night. we had to move everything back in the morning.my play mate. my bravery. my security blanket.
i remember the carousel horse wallpaper in little rock. how we felt so special. like princesses in our castle. how we would whisper across the room to each other from our twin beds. i remember how responsible i felt for her. how i hurt when she hurt. how hard it was to watch her grow and leave me for her own independence. my shadow. my secret keeper. my giggle buddy.
even when we had seperate rooms i snuck into her bed at night. i was such a chicken and she always made me feel safe even though she is younger. we stayed up late sneaking around and watching mtv. we had slumber parties at the obriens. we took pictures and thought we were models. my confidence. my counterpart. my safe.
in texas there were enough rooms for each of us to have our own, but most of the time we shared anyway. we grew. we talked on the phone to boys. made up fashion trends. we snuck outside to talk to talyor and ryan. we passed each other notes in the hall at school. we were queens of the youth group. my bff. my partner in crime. my cheerleader.
i remember i cried when she went off to school. sure i had gone two years earlier, but only 45 min away. she always was the brave one. i know crosby thought i was crazy, but i cried the whole way home to belton the night she left, bound for daddy's alma mater in mississippi. when he broke my heart later that semester it was her call that made me decide to go back to school and get my grades pulled up to passing so i could transfer and have the courage to leave him behind. she took me in. shared her life with me. her dorm room. her friends. my strength. my savior. my light at the end of a dark tunnel.
and so began the long years we would spend in ole clinton. who would have guessed? but would we have planned it any better? all the frustration. all the sharing. all the ups and downs. and we both are better off for it. my roomie. my co worker. my helper.
and now its so surreal. dreams of memphis and hattiesburg and new beginnings that we know are God ordained, and yet, there is this sense of loss.
our whole lives everyone has told us that we are just like evie and mimi, different as night and day. but it was mimi who was there for evie until the bitter end. who would not leave her side. and when i think about it, where would the day be without the cool whipsering hush of the night's steady calm and where would the night be without the faithful rays of day's persistant promise?
in sarah ruhl's version of eurydice, she says that the word father is like the word tree. i think that is so true. but sunday on my drive down it hit me square in the face, something i have told her before. i may not know what is next for me and she may feel the same way too. we may not fully understand the years that have preceded today but one thing i know to be true. she is like the word bird to me. my nest. my feathers. my flight. my sister. and few words are greater.
when i first heard the word i was just a babe myself, too young even to understand what was really happening. momma has told me stories, of course, of how i was so excited. how i played alone in my wading pool that summer and cried because no one was with me to play with. how she had to explain to me that when the baby did come it would be her baby and not mine. even before she was born i tried to boss her, "well when my baby comes!" "no, jayna lea, its my baby." but i think i still thought she was mine. you can see it in my eyes in pictures.
i remember colorado. sleeping together in the big bed. how she would never keep her mittens on in the snow. how she looked sitting up there on our horse, flame, as daddy held her. my cuddle bunny. my banana incident accomplice. (you will have to ask someone who knows.)my snow angel.
i remember meridian.how we spent endless nights skating at the gym. how we played endless days on the swing set. how once i tried to move to my "own room". momma tried so hard to make a comfortable bed in the laundry room for me so i could have my own place in our small three bedroom house, when i begged her, but i only lasted one night. we had to move everything back in the morning.my play mate. my bravery. my security blanket.
i remember the carousel horse wallpaper in little rock. how we felt so special. like princesses in our castle. how we would whisper across the room to each other from our twin beds. i remember how responsible i felt for her. how i hurt when she hurt. how hard it was to watch her grow and leave me for her own independence. my shadow. my secret keeper. my giggle buddy.
even when we had seperate rooms i snuck into her bed at night. i was such a chicken and she always made me feel safe even though she is younger. we stayed up late sneaking around and watching mtv. we had slumber parties at the obriens. we took pictures and thought we were models. my confidence. my counterpart. my safe.
in texas there were enough rooms for each of us to have our own, but most of the time we shared anyway. we grew. we talked on the phone to boys. made up fashion trends. we snuck outside to talk to talyor and ryan. we passed each other notes in the hall at school. we were queens of the youth group. my bff. my partner in crime. my cheerleader.
i remember i cried when she went off to school. sure i had gone two years earlier, but only 45 min away. she always was the brave one. i know crosby thought i was crazy, but i cried the whole way home to belton the night she left, bound for daddy's alma mater in mississippi. when he broke my heart later that semester it was her call that made me decide to go back to school and get my grades pulled up to passing so i could transfer and have the courage to leave him behind. she took me in. shared her life with me. her dorm room. her friends. my strength. my savior. my light at the end of a dark tunnel.
and so began the long years we would spend in ole clinton. who would have guessed? but would we have planned it any better? all the frustration. all the sharing. all the ups and downs. and we both are better off for it. my roomie. my co worker. my helper.
and now its so surreal. dreams of memphis and hattiesburg and new beginnings that we know are God ordained, and yet, there is this sense of loss.
our whole lives everyone has told us that we are just like evie and mimi, different as night and day. but it was mimi who was there for evie until the bitter end. who would not leave her side. and when i think about it, where would the day be without the cool whipsering hush of the night's steady calm and where would the night be without the faithful rays of day's persistant promise?
in sarah ruhl's version of eurydice, she says that the word father is like the word tree. i think that is so true. but sunday on my drive down it hit me square in the face, something i have told her before. i may not know what is next for me and she may feel the same way too. we may not fully understand the years that have preceded today but one thing i know to be true. she is like the word bird to me. my nest. my feathers. my flight. my sister. and few words are greater.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
smoke and ashes...
passions.
in the greek orthodox faith the word passion has more of a negative connotation. i have been told they believe that it is a powerful word that carries such strong meaning that it should almost not be used.
i can understand this. we throw words around all the time.
i love chocolate.
i love my momma.
i hate sin.
i hate broccoli.
really? the same word?
its kinda the same thing with passion.
its like you can say all day long you are passionate about something, but what do you do on a daily basis?
ive been thinking a lot lately about my passions.
i have these crazy dreams i sometimes dream...
like, i watch the trailer for whip it, drew barryomore's new movie about roller derby, and i think, i could do that! i used to rollerblade almost everyday keeping up with and sometimes even beating the boys. i have the scars to prove it~ and i look super cute in knee highs. heh.
i also have this crazy idea about auditioning for a bit part in a play or musical of some kind. i mean, even if it was just a small role, how cool would it be to say you sang in the little orphan chorus line of annie? or you were one of the nuns in the sound of music?
i also have this secret dream to be some sort of jazzy, bluesy, singer in a band like kitty, daisy and lewis, she and him or elizabeth and the catapults. singing lead while the guys in my band wail on a guitar and pound the keyboard. we would have so much soul you'd hardly be able to stand it!
i have lots of things i really like to do..
and some of them i am even decently good at.
knitting. ive made like a dozen scarves, a couple of coin purses and have a half knitted little red riding hood cape i am working on for the winter. i even have a name for my line, knit-witty.
painting.its something i have always liked to do. very abstract of course. no real mona lisa's or anything. just fun.
sewing. ok i sort of suck at this. but i still really like the idea of it and i have a few shirts that i have actually finished that are wearable.
but, are these my passions or just things to pass my time with?
ben taylor, son of james taylor and carly simon, has a voice just like his dad. you've probably heard him and just thought it was james. you hear him sing a line clear and smooth with that effortless grace his father has and you know instantly. its as if the genes were so strong that unintentionally his father passed down this gift and just like with james, you can hear instantly what his passion is. (i know someone else i think this about.)
but i guess for some of us, no matter how old we are or where we have been, its harder to figure out what our passions are.
i was talking to a good friend the other day about what she would do if she changed jobs. she's had the same job, and done very well at it, for 20 plus years, but its not necessarily her passion.
they say you should ask yourself what would you do if you won ten million in the lottery and then whatever your answer is thats what you should do with your life. i guess that sort of works.
this week the house that momma and daddy lived in when they were in raymond burned to the ground. its so strange, but it almost hurt as bad as if we were still living there. my best friend in high school had the home his daddy built burn his sophomore year and they lost everything. i remember him saying with tears in his eyes that it had struck him that all they had left were the things they had given away. i will never forget that.
i think maybe that is a better way to think about what is it that you are passionate about? what if you lost everything,not just material possessions, but everything, and all you had left were the things you had somehow managed to give away?
it reminds me of hannah in the bible and how she finally figured out that sometimes we can't obtain the desires of hearts until we get it straight and realize that ultimately nothing is our own and all must be given up to the Lord.
i guess sometimes providing for our family, putting food on the table, paying for schools, etc.. becomes our priority, but still, i think we all have something lying just beneath the surface. if we pushed back the grime that has covered our weary and laboring souls there is something there that we were created to do, something that an all knowing and intentioned father put within us as a gift to be passionate about.
so i guess what i am saying is that i am praying to finally obtain the desires of my heart. ive got things, sure, that are fun that i take up my time with, and thats ok, but im ready to live daily like i was created with purpose. at the end of the day i want to come home saying i gave of my self in such a way that if it all went up in smoke tomorrow, there'd be something still that i left behind.
today i am listening to:
ben taylor-deeper than gravity--digest
she and him--volume one-why do you let me stay here
today i am watching:
glee
today i am reading:
1 samuel 1:1-2:11
poem of the day:
Paradise is that old mansion
Many owned before-
Occupied by each an instant
Then reversed the Door-
Bliss is frugal of her Leases
Adam taught her Thrift
Bankrupt once through his excesses.
--e.d.
in the greek orthodox faith the word passion has more of a negative connotation. i have been told they believe that it is a powerful word that carries such strong meaning that it should almost not be used.
i can understand this. we throw words around all the time.
i love chocolate.
i love my momma.
i hate sin.
i hate broccoli.
really? the same word?
its kinda the same thing with passion.
its like you can say all day long you are passionate about something, but what do you do on a daily basis?
ive been thinking a lot lately about my passions.
i have these crazy dreams i sometimes dream...
like, i watch the trailer for whip it, drew barryomore's new movie about roller derby, and i think, i could do that! i used to rollerblade almost everyday keeping up with and sometimes even beating the boys. i have the scars to prove it~ and i look super cute in knee highs. heh.
i also have this crazy idea about auditioning for a bit part in a play or musical of some kind. i mean, even if it was just a small role, how cool would it be to say you sang in the little orphan chorus line of annie? or you were one of the nuns in the sound of music?
i also have this secret dream to be some sort of jazzy, bluesy, singer in a band like kitty, daisy and lewis, she and him or elizabeth and the catapults. singing lead while the guys in my band wail on a guitar and pound the keyboard. we would have so much soul you'd hardly be able to stand it!
i have lots of things i really like to do..
and some of them i am even decently good at.
knitting. ive made like a dozen scarves, a couple of coin purses and have a half knitted little red riding hood cape i am working on for the winter. i even have a name for my line, knit-witty.
painting.its something i have always liked to do. very abstract of course. no real mona lisa's or anything. just fun.
sewing. ok i sort of suck at this. but i still really like the idea of it and i have a few shirts that i have actually finished that are wearable.
but, are these my passions or just things to pass my time with?
ben taylor, son of james taylor and carly simon, has a voice just like his dad. you've probably heard him and just thought it was james. you hear him sing a line clear and smooth with that effortless grace his father has and you know instantly. its as if the genes were so strong that unintentionally his father passed down this gift and just like with james, you can hear instantly what his passion is. (i know someone else i think this about.)
but i guess for some of us, no matter how old we are or where we have been, its harder to figure out what our passions are.
i was talking to a good friend the other day about what she would do if she changed jobs. she's had the same job, and done very well at it, for 20 plus years, but its not necessarily her passion.
they say you should ask yourself what would you do if you won ten million in the lottery and then whatever your answer is thats what you should do with your life. i guess that sort of works.
this week the house that momma and daddy lived in when they were in raymond burned to the ground. its so strange, but it almost hurt as bad as if we were still living there. my best friend in high school had the home his daddy built burn his sophomore year and they lost everything. i remember him saying with tears in his eyes that it had struck him that all they had left were the things they had given away. i will never forget that.
i think maybe that is a better way to think about what is it that you are passionate about? what if you lost everything,not just material possessions, but everything, and all you had left were the things you had somehow managed to give away?
it reminds me of hannah in the bible and how she finally figured out that sometimes we can't obtain the desires of hearts until we get it straight and realize that ultimately nothing is our own and all must be given up to the Lord.
i guess sometimes providing for our family, putting food on the table, paying for schools, etc.. becomes our priority, but still, i think we all have something lying just beneath the surface. if we pushed back the grime that has covered our weary and laboring souls there is something there that we were created to do, something that an all knowing and intentioned father put within us as a gift to be passionate about.
so i guess what i am saying is that i am praying to finally obtain the desires of my heart. ive got things, sure, that are fun that i take up my time with, and thats ok, but im ready to live daily like i was created with purpose. at the end of the day i want to come home saying i gave of my self in such a way that if it all went up in smoke tomorrow, there'd be something still that i left behind.
today i am listening to:
ben taylor-deeper than gravity--digest
she and him--volume one-why do you let me stay here
today i am watching:
glee
today i am reading:
1 samuel 1:1-2:11
poem of the day:
Paradise is that old mansion
Many owned before-
Occupied by each an instant
Then reversed the Door-
Bliss is frugal of her Leases
Adam taught her Thrift
Bankrupt once through his excesses.
--e.d.
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