as springtime lifts its sleepy head

first night to sleep with my windows open
first night to sleep in shorts
first day to wear sandals

springtime, i relish you,
but do not hasten away too soon.

p.s. thoughts about chicago to come. i think?

war

emory is holding a remembrance vigil right now since today marks the 4 year anniversary of the war. they are reading the names of iraqi and u.s. people that have died during these four years. this does not include the names of people who have been lost, displaced, injured, tortured, or emotionally scarred. one of the most jarring images was a field of black flags displayed on the lawn near the center of campus. each flag represented 150 deaths, and the lawn was covered. it was shocking. here are some numbers.

50,000-65,000 iraqis killed so far
3,180 american people killed so far
25,000 americans wounded so far
$400 billion spent so far
2 million iraqi refugees outside iraq
1.7 million iraqis internally displaced



what do we do?

i fought and fought, but i should have just gone outside

i've been trying very hard to formulate into words all the scattered, yet substantial (to me, at least) ideas and conflicts that both my mind and heart are tossing around. i'm trying so hard, they just won't come. so i am just going to write. who knows what may come.



i'm starting with this picture. here's why. it's me. it's me doing what i enjoy. me with no pretense or sense of my need to be beautiful or to fit in, or to be successful or mature. it's me. as a child. nature has a way of breaking me of my false sense of coolness or success. outside, i am a mere fragment of creation that is far more beautiful than i could ever imagine a human to be. i am as a small child, full of wonder and appropriately humbled. may i never forsake what my heart delights in to do what the world acknowledges as productive or successful. this idea, it's implications are huge, but i have only begun to understand.

but i do know this. i am sitting on my back porch, with the breeze and the warm sun. my favorite song by clem snide drifts outside and delights my ears. i hear birds, and i hear cars. there are two large bees in the corner of the porch buzzing feverishly. here i am free to write, free to commune, free to think. this is what i love. my job allows me such conveniences, and for that i am thankful. i know it won't always be this way.

but wait, that's exactly what i'm talking about. i desire to work and serve people with whatever i choose as my "career," but never ever do i want to lose sight of our timelessness. i will not have my life be about waking up, going to work, coming home to a family (ah, perhaps), and going to bed, just to do it all again the next day. in no way is anything in the previous statement intrinsically bad, but Lord have mercy on me if my life ever becomes centered around a particular job, a particular goal, a particular person. as my kindred says, nothing is urgent except Christ. what i'm saying is that if i get to a point where i have lost sight of the Kingdom first, loving God and loving people, and have replaced such things with shadows and concrete, i have failed.

i'd like to write more, but i feel as if what i've written is all i need to say for now. i will write more when i can, when i'm not trying to force it.

p.s. go to a park or something. seriously. do it.

bear with me

i have many thoughts these days that i'd like to share, but they seem to evade clarity when i attempt to form them into words, written or audible. i will update soon, with my own thoughts, my own words.

perhaps i am just writing this to make a covenant with myself. it is very possible i am the only one who reads this. (if you do read this, this is not a plea for recognition or for pity, really.)

p.s. these kind of days bring me to life. beautiful.

come incarnate Christ!

i pray that his very real flesh would clothe you
molding around your skin
may he be your new wineskin
may he be the glow on your face
blushing with with weakness
made perfect in his strong beholding hands

liberal saturation of his spirit
inundation of mind body and soul
water damage
come Dear; ravage

he is so very near
and our hands so savage

drowning your insides
in intoxicating adoration
longsuffering
the promises held out
far
before our birth
of an invisible reality
unveiled to us
the adulterated
blinded by
our assurance of his faithfulness

[a written prayer of a beloved friend: jm]




so we say, "Christ be incarnate in us." not for our own vanishing glory, but so that we, as the body of Christ, would actually be so. the tangible, fleshy embodiment of Christ. let us be.