A Falling Down Life

born knowing

blynk107 — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 03:47:00 +0000

I have a lot of questions and qualms. Sometimes I am suspicious of Paul ( the Apostle, not my uncle) and there are times that without question, I know nothing about God at all.

I can’t commit to a church. I am judgemental. I want to be a Chief more than an Indian.(unless of course it’s Chiefs you need, then I am just too lazy or unprepared for real responsibility and play the part of renegade cowboy(girl) instead.) I question the way church has been done yet I am reluctant to embrace doing things too differently. I like coffee house atmospheres in church but have strict expectations about “money changing in the temple” (I rebuke the selling of Thomas Kincade prints in church by the ‘thority vested in me alone )~I have none such authority~

Despite all of this, regardless of what flavor our worship is on any given Sunday(Saturday is fine by me too!) baptisms never fail to move me.

For me, it is JUST like watching a newborn baby take their first breath.

After I had my children, I lost the ability to watch documentaries about pregnancy and newborns without weeping. When I see a baby born-any baby-I am reflexively pulled back to my own experiences and emotions.It is a powerful moment to witness that first wailing breath. I couldn’t aptly describe it with words (not yet anyhow) but it is a knowing of sorts.

That same knowing, but about different things, surges through me when I see someone being baptized, especially through earnest means, like in a swimming pool, or hot tub.

I never grow tired of seeing people-any people-baptized, It is a powerful moment to witness these first steps, these first gasps at life. There is a knowing, as well as hope, love, and giddy inspiration.

Momentum in Ohio put together a montage of recent baptisms that I especially liked when I ran across it. I especially dig its arrangement with Coldplay’s Fix You ( a recent addition to myPod)

lie bumps

blynk107 — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 15:22:00 +0000

“…behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!”

~James

Ever have a lie bump? In a field of perfectly content buds, one gets rebellious. Inflamed. And though the good buds outweigh the bad, it is the bad, the painful that garner all attention.

Have you ever scorched your mouth, with hot coffee maybe, or some nice tomato soup?Eating afterwards probably felt funny until that scalded sensation healed over.

My tongue is scalded. The bump is but a tiny one- the size of a small arrow- but it is a lie all the same. It is your lie and because of it, I cannot swallow another word from your lips. Your words have lost their flavor, I cannot taste what you wish for me to hear.

It is but a tiny, rebellious bud, but it’s burn cannot be ignored.

It is a numb sensation that cannot be forced to dissipate before it’s own timing.

You shot me with an arrow, only a tiny one

But it was facing the wrong way

And now we are worse off than before

I’ve been struck mute and deaf

And your speech has become stuttered

Perhaps, we’ll make it through this swamp if I can miraculously lose my sight;in Mercy, be struck Blind.

perhaps.

new logo

blynk107 — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 23:52:00 +0000

i don’t think that i have ever felt quite as betrayed…

There are two options-

knew it would hurt me, WANTED it to … I cannot understand why you choose to hurt someone unless you’ve made up your mind about that person not belonging in a significant role in your life
figured it might hurt me but the want outweighed that pesky little detail…and that too seems to say “to me, you are insignificant“

It wasn’t done out in the open, maybe that is why I feel so betrayed…seems the plan would be to have the new one in place before any feelings are hurt…not that they seem to matter.

And all this while, I have been thinking I was chosen for the job. That it had more to do with “togetherness” and with “us” than it did “whose looks better”

But I learn most things the hard way and this is no exception.

Kelly feels sad today.

jitters

blynk107 — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 03:14:00 +0000

like Elvis, I’m all shook up.

Would It Help?

blynk107 — Fri, 27 Jul 2007 17:32:00 +0000

This forum here- I feel I must excuse, explain it all again- this place is for me. I come here and I scream in the only way I know how. I ask questions that otherwise wouldn’t leave my lips… I fool myself that being here makes it all safe to give a voice.

Dumbo had a feather to help him soar — I have this wee little blog (and additional hang ups that we’ll discuss some other, far off day.)

I probably don’t need this feather, (or those) … but until I am sure, I grasp them tightly in my trunk….

Big Exhale Here.

Would it make a difference, if we listed your sins and excused you from each individually. Is that what you need to happen?

Sex Before Marriage?
Child Out Of Wedlock?
Drunkenness?
Debauchery?
Lewdness?
Lying and Lasciviousness?
Gambling?
Greed?
Lust?
Adultery?

What if there were nothing you could say to make Love go away?
No face too dirty, no act too desperate….
Would bitterness still taunt you? Would you continue to gnash the flesh of all who dare come near you?

It seems to me that no one hates you as much as you hate yourself.

Who are you to hold that against yourself, eh?

What if I told you that there is Someone who loves you even when I must draw the line? Would you want that Love, or do you prefer your state of misery?

You’ve been forgiven despite all that taints your memory, all that haunts your soul… yes, all of it. Would it blow your mind for me to say, you’ve been forgiven for the things you’ve yet to do tomorrow?

Now, if I could only drop this foolish feather, fly up beside you and whisper this in your ear. If only you would hear me and see how beautiful life can be.

Lay down your arms! Cast your burdens all on me….no, no, I mean on Him…

You can- if you would, if you will…

There is nothing to lose besides a crooked crutch- and all the world to gain.

pockets and bad breath

blynk107 — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 23:34:00 +0000

It was one of those highlights of motherhood…booster shots at the health department, last in line and four shots delinquent. There was nothing child friendly in the sparse waiting room, only the vending machines served as a distraction, and then, not for long.

The walls were papered with the typical bi-lingual informative posters,with topics ranging from cancer to teen pregnancy; a child could learn a lot ( too much!) just waiting on school booster shots.

One poster had briefly caught my eye, advertising a teen smoking hot line, fringed at the bottom with little rip off numbers- handy for any who may want to call in for help. I wondered whether it was a very effective medium with which to reach out to others- I wondered if anyone ever called.

My eldest sidled up to me, freshly returned from his latest venture to the vending machine (” If I HAD money, I’d buy that bag of chips…”) and handed me one of the aforementioned phone number slips.

He said, ” This is for Daddy, it says ‘Need help quitting?’ and Dad does, so I’ll give him one and he can call it”

He went on to explain ” You know, for his drinking and that, well, you know, that breath he comes in with. . . it’s bad”

I told him that, HE, Chandler, would have to be the one that opened that particular can of worms…

He promptly got 4 or 5 more phone number slips and crammed them in each of his pockets, wondering aloud as he re-read the poster ” But I DO wonder what tobacco has to do with drinking”

You see, he had gotten so caught up with the notion that he may have found a solution to something he currently sees as a big problem, he was so taken with the “Get Help Quitting” part the tobacco was secondary and a small matter in comparison.

I thought about a lot of things at this point but thought better to say anything aloud. I was slightly humored, mostly saddened.

The mission was long forgotten and -from what I can tell-abandoned by the time we reached home. There is an issue that remains, but I don’t know how to approach it, or if it would even be worth it to try. But I wish, for starters, that you’d check your son’s pockets-there are questions and fears there, but more importantly, there is love.

"i’m melting…"

blynk107 — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 17:23:00 +0000

i prayed a prayer not too long ago that simply went like this: “Melt me, melt my cold heart and help me to feel again.”Then like the sweating of a great block of ice in the desert, the crying jags began. More than frequent and in public places, I couldn’t dam my eyes though I tried.I laughed through tears, understanding that I was, indeed, melting.When I thought ” I’m Melting” I thought too, of the Wicked Witch who cried those same words when she was doused with water.I thought of MY own wicked witch, within.I smiled some more, though I was still crying quite a bit, for I thought “My wicked witch is melting away, thanks to all this watering.”I then began to emit impurities, like silver in a refinery. I pointed fingers and named names and it all burned to ashes. I felt lighter of my burden than I had in some time and like fine silver, I allowed myself to see it all as added value to my worth.I don’t know where I am headed, or what is over the next hill, but I am reminded time and again- every single day- that I am not walking alone. I am with someone who knows the way.And like a snowman melting in July, I will roll on with the fluidity of water ‘neath my feet, until I’ve reached my Destination.

being myself

blynk107 — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 15:54:00 +0000

i told him it wouldn’t be love
that my name wouldn’t do
and he could call me Bambi
instead
he told me it would be love
whether I wanted it to be
or not
so i let it be,
and i was me
(but being me, i was forced to make a Bambi joke later)

THEN
i dreamed i won a Jr. Miss pageant of some kind
but everyone was ready to leave before they announced the winner
as if it couldn’t possibly be me
which it couldn’t be
because i didn’t even register
and i just kept trying to stall long enough to hear
as if i didn’t think it could be me
either
but it takes so much effort to
climb out of theatre seating
~that was the delay
no glory seeking or vanity on my part

but then i did win and i was glad I was there to hear about it
there may be signifigance here, but I have yet to find it.

(Love, Bambi)

more on forgiveness

blynk107 — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 14:30:00 +0000

This article, as re-posted by Dr. Howdy, is not only timely, but a helpful voice in this whole endeavor of saying things out loud.

On his site, under the picture and link, Howdy has a tag line that says:
” When forgiveness finally roots in you, you find you have nothing left to say at all”

I believe I am finding the truth in that even now. I feel less ‘evil’ knowing that it is okay to need to process things, but as I have begun to process, I feel less encumbered by these happenings afterward. Like that whole “walking the island” thing… it is now little more than a cold fact in my personal history, instead of something still warm with life and emotion attached to it.

Also, though I have given general warning that things may get uglier before I am a rosier shade of well, I haven’t felt the need to sift the ashes as urgently. Just knowing that I can- if only in this “room” alone- has provided a form of contentment too.

Sometimes, thought you know you are being stretched and kneaded and formed into a new and different vessel, it is nice to find these little reminders and voices along the way, the kind that assure you that in the end, you are going to be just what He had in mind . . . come fiery kiln or multiple re-lumpings.

read

goosey gander

blynk107 — Tue, 12 Jun 2007 14:45:00 +0000

It was on her first flight out of the nest that she was shot, consumed and stuffed by a hunter. She is mounted on his wall now, wishing for a second shot at dying.
Art. Ornament. Decoration.
Just a pretty, shiny thing to behold.
No rhythm, her heart has been removed.
She is a trophy. A prize. A thing to be admired.
Desired. Forever frozen in a flight to nowhere.
She will both make it there
and not.

silly goose