The Other Side of Sleep

oh, King of the Land of Tuesday

oh, Emperor of Everlands

(far beyond the light of stars)

the deep abyss of

your eyes

flips my heart directly out of

it's tiny pocket

flinging it higher than

steel and glass castles rise

craving

your warm palm

finger kissing finger before embracing

savoring

the spiciness of you

needing

a perpetual drink of you

that swirls and spins me

backways sidewards

only

breathlessness remains

your secret smile

leaves behind

the reflections of a wish

another rendezvous

in the wonderplace

on the other side of sleep

Sneak Peak

Completely unexpected. It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving last year. Early afternoon and we were all in the fellowship hall cleaning up from our high school Thanksgiving dinner. I was directing kids here and there and turned around to find him standing there...in for a short visit. His beauty had always been on my radar but this was different. All it took was a smile, the little phrase "hey buddy", and a hug and all of the sudden I couldn't breathe. My heart was beating so loud and fast that first time in my life I was actually afraid that it could be heard. I laughed it off and told myself it was nothing...I had no idea that my heart was giving me a sneak peak of what was to come. Love's funny that way...

Beginning of our story...

A conversation from my first year of college is haunting me somewhat at this late hour when I should be sleeping yet my recuperating body is not cooperating. I've been thinking much about the future lately (hmmm wonder why...43) and while I was trying to daydream myself to sleep my mind came across this little chat that has stuck with me. N was 24 and I was 17. As friendships in bible college go, we were quite the odd couple. He was sane, focused, ancient....I was crazy, naive, and very very young. We were on our way home from some kind of meeting and we were talking about a couple that had recently gotten engaged. I loved how everyone could tell they were supposed to be together....it was one of those things that when they looked at each other everyone knew...not just them. It wasn't that cheesy garbage that makes you want to slap them silly and say "wake up you idiots, it won't last" no it was that "wow chick flicks and fairy tales were written for a reason" kind of feeling. In my infinite innocence I declared that this is what I desired and the knowledge that I would never be happy with anything less. N moved out of his stoic self for a moment and became surprisingly animated as he made me swear to never settle for anything less, even if something almost as good came along. I of course crossed my heart and somehow determined in my little 17 year old mind that this crazy true know in my gut love would come someday. On certain days since then I have wondered if I cursed myself...I've even questioned if I would be willing to settle for less than this like so many of my friends have....the answer was always, "No." And now, almost ten years from that simple vow I understand why...It is worth it..."gulp"

Trucks and Pancakes

So its been centuries I know since I have posted and with the urging of a few family members and Brit, I'm going to try and do better. The past several months have been what can only be termed as crazy, amazing, difficult, and CRAZY. Today was a fine example of just what the previous months have held. It started early, much to early with a text at 5:15 A.M. from a friends who is rapidly being put on the not so favorite list, he wanted to say Good Morning, specifically because he knew that I was still asleep and he had to be up...great friend, huh! It continued on pretty alright with me teaching Algebra for A (now I believe I really can do absolutely ANYTHING) After said Algebra teaching, I took an uneventful trip to Panera for some incredibly awesome tomato soup (i'm addicted) for J and I. On the way home, a huge yellow Dodge Ram decided to meet my Jeep up close and personal....my first ever accident in 10 years of driving. Though I am bruised and sore, I'm okay...however, my poor little Jeep is not quite so okay. Upside: the rental place gave me a Ford F150 to drive while my vehicle is getting fixed (I just love silver linings). And, you know what the funny thing is? This morning on my way to school I was chatting with God and just let Him that I really love my life....right now is definitely in the category of most difficult time of life thus far, but I find myself truly truly believing that statement, even now...after a day that I really wish I would have stayed in bed for...i find that I LOVE MY LIFE...its pretty stinking fabulous and i'm thankful for it and the people God has placed in it. What I wish: Tomorrow was a snow day, I could sleep in and awake to the smell of Banana Pancakes.....

Safe Place

May my words be spoken in wisdom with compassion, and every action a selfless one. May my presence be peaceful, reassuring, secure...a place of rest and my prayers be of a surrounding nature used to lift up, hold and strengthen. Let self and selfishness be stripped from me and replaced with pure love...God's love...unconditional love. May I seek to understand before seeking to be understood. That the storms I face and struggle through would be used by Him to shape me, form me that I may become a safe place...your safe place.

Conversations in Green

How can I make you leave? You of the soft laughing fall into green eyes.
You stand closing the distance until our faces are within a heartbeat of each other.
Eyes speak... "I can't leave - don't want to be that ten minute stretch of road away from you," yours say.

My response is a deep twisting within as heart leaps forward.
Lighter green answers your darker green - Stay, curl up with me on the old comfy couch, we'll be cozy together - Enjoying the nearness, never running out of words, but often stopping their flow in order to soak up the delicious silence full of deep thought, insinuations - words which must not be spoken until that one later time.

You are within touching space, but only our eyes entangle - which is enough for all bits of vocabulary to be removed from my mouth. I now completely lack the ability to tell you, Leave, it's late, what would people say...?

So, you stay. Outside is cold, and after all the truck needs warmed up a bit...right? We escape again into the silence, words, and each other for a few precious more moments and then check the clock to find minutes are an hour and now you must leave before breakfast, sunrise, and roommates break the news.....tomorrow has arrived.

Godspeed

So in our college and career class, we have been discussing sexuality and the single apostolic. This has included commentary on male/female relationships and a discussion of how often times guys look at girls as a conquest instead of something precious. This was my response to the discussion:



Single Apostolic Man,

Congratulations, you’ve just taken a huge step. Making the choice to be finished with childish flings and find yourself a woman, a whole godly woman is a decision to be commended. As you begin this journey, here are a few insights into the female mind from just such a one you might be searching for. Please accept this offering of wisdom in the spirit with which it is given. It is only meant to aid in your quest, not to criticize any of your previous or current qualities and/or actions.
In modern times, the male of our species has begun to look at the female as a conquest – just another sexual exploit to add to the list. Our take on this is as follows. We do not desire to be conquered by you – we are not a mountain to be scaled or the elusive 10-point buck you gleefully hunt down. Your stalking and then pouncing does not attract us to you and neither does your innuendo filled conversation. We need to be wooed, courted. This doesn’t always mean expensive gifts, flowers, or even incredibly earnest love poetry. Start small. Begin by being our friend. Earn our trust. Allow us to observe your integrity first hand. Show that your relationship with God means more than the one that you desire to experience with us. Don’t sweep us off our feet with empty pretty words accompanied by a hidden agenda. Build a line of honest communication instead – where you are not only willing to listen, but also to share of yourself – the deep parts of you that we may not have otherwise known existed.
If you believe you are ready for this endeavor, be prepared to put forth real effort for it. I promise you will not regret your investment. For you see, we are givers as well. Earn our trust and our adoration may very well follow. Treat us with respect and watch us begin to desire your input and value your opinion. Look beyond our bodies to our brains and find that we are someone you can not only physically desire, but who also can stimulate your mind and inspire your spiritual growth. Prize our purity and know that we are not dispassionate ice princesses. We also have desires. We just love God, ourselves, and our future mate far too much to cheapen the mind-blowing intimacy that is sex. We have much pleasure to give, but it is not yours to take. It remains carefully guarded awaiting its rightful recipient, our husbands.
We are women strong, yet soft, whole and beautiful – complete in our relationship with God, yet desirous of another type of relationship that will enrich our lives. Don’t be intimidated by our confidence, success, or intelligence. We aren’t looking for perfection. We wish only to be pursued by one who will truly see us for who we are and appreciate that which they perceive; a man of character to court us with respect, integrity, and purity. Our desire in two words….cherish us.

Godspeed,

Single Apostolic Woman

Eulogy for a Love Lost

You would think that walking away and never looking back would be the hardest part....not so much for me...i pride myself on having made "walking away" into an art form. I've learned the easiest way to walk away from a relationship is to literally (physically) walk away...though the males involved may not feel the same way, a couple of my "walking aways" (there haven't been that many) would have done any chick flick proud. However, because I have learned how to walk away and when to walk away, I always feel as if I'm fine...don't have to deal with anything...because walking away was easy so...i must be fine. Fine, sure, fine. Fine until 10 months after walking away and never looking back I wake up one morning with an epiphany...I'm not fine and what I talked myself into believing was nothing, what didn't mean anything, was in all actuality, love. No, it wasn't the love, you know that one that you're supposed to be with forevermore and without it life isn't worth living, but it was love, true deep messy painful. As this understanding takes hold, I loose my breath and the knot in my stomach appears...I feel the physical pain in my chest, the hurt of the realization that I loved, let go when God told me to (well at least the 5th time He told me to), and that I never grieved for the love lost. As some of you know from reading this blog, God is taking me on a journey right now...opening up old wounds that never healed or re-breaking portions of me that healed incorrectly, making me face these hurts, and then healing them afresh and completely so that the part of me that is broken will be whole. This epiphany is part of that process and i'm finding that grieving is good, it is necessary. It releases the heart, allows it to open again. And i feel that though the details of the love are painful i need to be thankful. So here is my thankfulness, my grieving, my letting go, my release of the pain, written to the love lost:

L.,
I enjoyed you. Truly enjoyed you, and have to tell you I am thankful that I fell head over feet in love with you. Even though you may have taken advantage of my naivete, made promises you couldn't have kept, and ended up completely acting like an idiot, I believe that you loved me...fell in love with me as well. What I loved about being with you was never having to self-edit, knowing that you really understood the massiveness of my inner nerd because the same thing lived not to far below the surface in you, your passion for everything and how you could spark the same in all those around you, your belief in my talents and abilities far beyond what I could see, and how you found me irresistibly attractive - you always found it necessary to catch me...my eye, my hand, my heart. Cliche though it is, you finished my sentences or read my mind....words weren't always necessary, but often were used just so that contact could be made in some way. Though I left you, I still possess a bit of baggage that I'm learning how to lay down now. Thank you for showing me parts of myself I had never seen before. And for leaving me with the understanding that just like Calvin and Alice, one day when I least expect it, am at my most witty and charming, he will walk into the party and my life will never be the same. I wish you all the best and pray that someday your little secular Jewish boy self will meet another Jewish man that I have fallen into a love so deep with, you can only understand by experiencing it yourself. His name is Jesus and His love will surpass any that I ever gave or could ever have given you. So now I release you, my song, may your search for Truth, Love and the understanding of Life be fruitful and bring you into His presence.
Godspeed,
M.

Verbal Decimation...

Where shall I begin....with the projectile coughing? no, wait maybe we should begin with the fact that right now on the level below me is a very extremely incredibly large python in a box or maybe, no I know, let's start with the somewhat attractive young quasi-aryan blonde man that I eviscerated with my words on Sunday evening because of his stance on the whole "racism" thing...It was Sunday evening after service and I was rapidly losing my voice, mainly because as I found out from the doctor in my visit yesterday, I have sinusitus and bronchittis and that causes a build up of bacteria on the voice box which...causes your voice to disappear. Anyway...Sunday evening...a young couple in our church invited J and I over for a cup of tea to hopefully boost our swiftly deteriorating health. J and I were sitting on the surprisingly cozy mod black leather couch discussing how previously mentioned young man is a good dresser and somewhat attractive until he opens his mouth and begins to speak. Said guy walks in at that moment and proceeds to sit down on floor to chat with us....decides to ask J and I what we think of the eventual election as teachers. Discussion begins and then he says...I quote, "Well, it won't be a good thing if a "black" becomes president, "they" will take over." Well now, some of you know me and clearly already can picture the look on my face as well as what is about to happen to this unfortunate fellow...I practically disembowled him with my words first in utter shock that I'm actually hearing what he has to say coming from one so young and then because of what he says next, he continued on for a few minutes, citing an experience that had ensued when he was previously living in a Southern state. Me.."So you're saying the guy slit your tires because he was black? Not because he was an idiot troublemaker, but because he was black." Him, "Well, uh...yeah." Me (gearing up for the kill), "Really. You saying that he did this because he was black is like me saying that because you're from Arkansas you must be stupid." (so my analogy was slightly off, but if you knew the situation better you'd understand why I said it) Him, "Well I mean like, I'm not racist or anything." Me, "Hate to break it to you, but yes, yes you are racist and if you have any of Jesus in your heart and are trying to be like Him by any stretch of the imagination, you might want to rethink your ideas...also, what century are you living in??? This is Ohio, it's 2007, and before you make comments such as these, you should be aware of who you are speaking to...everyday I teach a class of 5th graders who are ALL African American, I have family who is also African American, and at least half of my home church back home is African American." I had many many other things to say, but he looked so shell-shocked, confused, and could not seem to pick up the pieces to continue the discussion that I decided to sit down. As J said, for me to continue would have been akin to smothering a small child. Smart aleck other young preppy frat boy sitting on the other side of me pops up with, "So, probably a bad time to mention that my family is in the KKK." He's laughing...literally laughing and agreeing to some extent with previously mentioned and now verbal intenstines hanging out young man. I gave him the famous look I inherited from my dad, Aunt Deb, and Pawpaw and stood up to leave....such uglyness...I so rarely see it, that when I do it ignites in me an anger and a desire to point out the idiocy and un-Jesus-likeness of said uglyness. I understand verbal evisceration is probably not the best response or the most Jesus one ...but I'm working on that....Really ;)

S.O.S

Sunday night when I returned to my now home from my then home, I walked in the door of my tiny freezing apartment. There on our kitchen table, lay an envelope I have been anxiously awaiting. My PhD application from Harvard. There is a reason why so few people get into this magnanimous school...it's because NO ONE can finish the centuries long application. Seriously, I think the only thing that was not asked was my shoe size and the ice cream that tops my favorites list. So, along with the 25 page writing sample that is required of me for the other applications, I also have to write an abstract for every single course I have taken undergraduate and graduate...which is about 80 (count them, only 20 less than 100) CLASSES!! And, I'm having difficulty writing my writing sample. Now, you'd think someone who desires to get their PhD and understands that for the rest of her life a considerable amount of writing will be required of her would be able to toss of 25 pages in no time. No, it's just not happening. Everything that I think I want to write about is incredibly broad and would require a least one if not several dissertation length books to cover what I would like to cover. I need help, people, if anyone is even still reading this. Thoughts, ideas, and comments are REQUIRED!!!!!!!

St. Francis and the Stone Lions...

It is a perfectly crisp chilly late fall morning. Wood smoke billows from several chimneys and saturates the air with the scent that signals winter is almost here. I am at home...homehome... familyhome...Chicagohome for a few more hours before I make the trek back to Cinci. I just finished an early morning walk/jog that is a necessity on mornings like these and am sitting in the comfy overstuffed chair that if I could fit it into my little Jeep I would sneak back to my apartment. A venti three pump soy no water chai w/cinnamon powder on top and brown sugar pop tarts put the icing on this morning. I love walking around our completely stereotypical subdivision...statues of St. Francis and Mary dot front yards and walkways and even though I'm not Catholic and these saints have religious value to me, I find them faintly comforting...a part of home. Like the stone lions at the end of one of our townhouse neighbors very short driveway, the lions that sit right next to the temporary well-worn basketball hoop. Like the elderly Indian woman with cataracts who never recognizes me, her with the sari wound tightly around her under the hoodie that she wears on her morning walks to keep out the cold Like the tiny white poodle named Gracie who for the longest time my dad thought her name was Crazy. They are little bits of home, comfort, memories, and reality...

Shocker....

Let me tell you about C., one of my 10th graders....about a week ago, I gave an assignment to my completely bored sophomore Computer Class - write/type a poem. I gave them creative freedom within certain "school appropriate" parameters. C.'s poem was titled The Passion of the Christ 2: Crucify this! It was so beyond disrespectful to the one and only true deity aforementioned in the title, that I almost hesitated to take it with me for fear of impending lightning strikes. I had a chat with said sophomore to let him know that though the writing was extremely excellent and creative, the content itself was unacceptable in its tone...I was expecting anger, resentment, rebellion, or at least a little bit of hatefulness in response to my order and was pleasantly shocked to find this answer..."Okay, Miss H. I'll do it and get it to you this week." Along with this crazy response came the offer to mop up the quickly collecting rainwater on the entrance staircase which had induced, not surprising to those who know me, a painful collision between my tail end and the stairs a few minutes earlier. What kind of child is this who can be disrespectful to God Almighty Himself, yet responds to correction from me with obedience and willingness to do a job that most teenager's wouldn't be caught dead doing? Every morning since then, he's comes and sits in my classroom before school and chatters away...paintballing....Halloween....bike accident last summer that practically scraped half of his face off...etc etc Life really isn't even close to easy for him, divorced family, remarried parents and other elements of which I am only slightly aware that make me want to curl up in fetal position and cry for him. God has given me these kids to teach me more than just a few things and one of the lessons I keep getting over and over again, loud and clear, is I am truly blessed with a whole family and love that cradles and surrounds me even from 4 and 1/2 hours way....so blessed FYI Just received his new poem via email...it was quite good...and Mel Gibson's directorial endeavors didn't figure into it the slightest....

Happy Days...

You have not truly lived until a small red-headed freckled face Opie look-alike with bushier eyebrows and a lisp five year old has screamed in your face for fifteen minutes refusing to listen to your calm yet firm voice instructing him to sit his tail end down on the chair. Nor have you truly lived until you gently pick up said child, set him carefully in a chair, all while avoiding carefully aimed yet flailing legs, and continue to instruct him that he can scream all he wants, but he is not allowed to talk to you until he can do it in a normal voice without tears. You also have not truly lived until in the same day as the psycho K-5er you have to explain to a 9th grade female who is carrying on a highly inappropriate ( on a scale of 1-10 a 57) conversation with an eleventh grade boy that not only should she not be discussing this topic with him, but that it isn't something she really should ever be thinking about and it is extremely detrimental (she doesn't know that word) to her spiritual as well as physical well-being. Then the boy asks you how you know what that phrase means anyway? What do you do? As another boy in the classroom said so eloquently, providing commentary that was not neccessary..."Dude, she was a librarian...she knows EVERYTHING!" You also have not truly lived until you have tasted my mother's homemade cheesecake, but thats a post for another day....

42

Today was the kind of day that makes you want to go fling yourself upon your bed, pull the covers over your deep fried brains, and never, ever, EVER come back out again. Not one of those bad hellish type days, just one of those irritating pointless "did I actually make an impact on any of these heathens" type days. There was however one very bright spot in today that came right smack dab at the end with my little book discussion group. This was our first of hopefully many meetings and we discussed The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which I upon reading again for the first time in years found ironically hilarious, however much of the humor seemed to go over their heads. I had 4 attendees besides myself in this little gathering of aspiring bibliophiles. We munched on oatmeal raisin cookies and those one amazingly thick doughy sugar cookies with the grotesque icing while discussing the Answer to the Ultimate Question regarding Life, the Universe, and Everything (the answer is of course 42) then moved on to Dinosaurs, Intelligent Life elsewhere, evolution, and the true meaning of the Babelfish. Laughter, surprisingly open discussions, and genuine enthusiasm for the topic at hand almost made up for the fact that one of my students will only write poetry or short stories about topics related to The Office or Napoleon Dynamite, and that in 42 being the answer to the Ultimate Question, I have absolutely no idea what that Ultimate question is....