Advent reading from my new book :)

Wow, what happened to the time?  Look away for a second, and it's Advent! School is out in a few weeks, and then the long trek to California to visit.

Since we are waiting for the birth of the Savior, I thought I'd share a reading from my book "Biblical Portraits", coming soon to a e-reader near you!  This one is called "Advent"

Advent

Reflection on our Lord's coming

We started out together

Walking hand in hand

In love with the Father of Love

Surrounded by all good things

And in perfect peace.

We wanted for nothing,

For everything was provided us

By One who loved us more than we could possibly imagine.

You know how the story goes.

The snake, the fruit, the disobedience,

The betrayal of trust...

Our lives would never be the same,

And our hearts would forever need to be filled

In ways that we could not even begin to imagine.

We tried so many different things,

Countless aids to ease the hurt,

Yet all we did was intensify the pain,

Cause the loneliness to overwhelm us,

So that the darkness seemed to be all-encompassing.

Yet, somehow, we knew that there was an answer

Somewhere

A beacon was shining in the night

Somewhere

A lantern lifted high,

Dispelling the darkness,

Somewhere.

We did not know how

Or even if

We were to search for it.

Maybe it would seek us out

Find us in our grief

Our pain

Our loneliness

The hideous blackness of our being

The opaqueness in which we lived.

And so we wait

Caught in the void between hope and despair

And even without being aware of it,

We pray.

O you who caused the light to shine all around us

Who permitted us to walk hand in hand with you

Who chose us as your children

Who desired our companionship

Who did nothing to lose our love

And everything to merit our respect,

Come unto us

Dwell once again among us.

Cause us to see your light blaring in the darkness

So that we can finally come home.

circles

When I was a child
I used to look at my mother.
I marveled at her hands,
So delicate, so beautiful.

I wondered if I would ever look like her.

As I grew, I knew this was not to be.
My hands, not enormous,
Are my father's hands,
Not my mother's

But my face.

I am the image of my mother.
I have her eyes, her expressions,
Her hair, her nose--
So when I look in a mirror

I see my mother gazing back at me.

I married, had children, and marveled.
So beautiful, so distinct,
And yet so similar
One to another.

And now they're grown.

Three look like me.
One looks like his father.
Although they all have features of both
and they are distinct to themselves.

And they have children, too.

Do those children look at their parents,
Do they notice hands, hair, eyes,
And do they say to themselves,
I wonder if I will ever look like that?

beauty in the heart of the beholder

She sits quietly
Waiting for class to start
And hoping nobody notices her.

She knows she doesn't fit in.
Her gait is awkward
Her clothes don't hang right
Her hair isn't becoming

Sometimes she feels that
she really doesn't have the right
To even exist.

And yet she goes to school
And she sits in her seat
And she does what she must
To survive.

There is really nothing wrong.
She's not abused,
She's just--different.

Her mother says that things will improve.
She didn't used to believe her.
But then--

One day,
Her mother showed her old photos
And there
In a chair
Was she!

But it wasn't, really.
It was her mother.
Equally gawky,
Equally awkward,

But so beautiful
and so loved
Now.

The remembered sight
gives her strength
to wait

and dream
of the future.

i will write

I can't write for myself write now,
I'm feeling much too blue,
But you might be feeling sad as well,
So I will write for you.

I have nothing left in me,
No spirit to renew,
But you might be feeling low as well,
So I will write for you.

I have no words left to give,
No ideas are brought in view,
But you might be the same way, too,
So I will write for you.

Are you alone?
Are you afraid?
Do you have demons
you must fight?

You're not alone,
I'm here with you,
To fight your demons--
I will write.

untitled

Relax.
Breathe.
Look around you--

Focus.
Support.
Listen to the sound of your own heart beating.

In.
Out.
Realize that God has made you beautiful.

One.
Unique.
This is what God sees in you.

Thoughts on an alternate universe

People congratulate me on my ability to talk about my past.
They marvel at my dry eyes as I speak of life,
and suffering,
and tragedy,
and death.

What they don't realize is that I am not talking.
The person who speaks so sincerely
is from an alternate universe--
a universe where pain doesn't exist,
and where words are devoid of meaning and emotion.
Not for the listener,
but for me.

It isn't that I have no tears.
I have them,
they just don't come out during talks,
or during demonstrations of others' suffering.

When I speak, I might get a bit hoarse,
a bit breathy,
but I don't cry.
When I listen to others speak,
tears generally don't come,
and when they do,
it's only because
for a slight moment
you have breached my alternate universe
and touched the real me.

The real me feels.
The real me still,
even after 20 years,
sobs uncontrollably at the thought of my husband
growing cold in his hospital bed.

It hardly ever happens when I think of my husband, though.
It comes unexpectedly,
when Rose is separated from Dr. Who by an impenetrable wall
and she must live out her life in an alternate universe
where she is surrounded by beauty
and love
and people who love her--
in fact, she is surrounded by everything…
except the one person that she needs more than anything else in the world.

How did you eventually come to feel, Rose?
I mean, before the happy ending that was truly bittersweet.
Did you learn how to live again,
or were you stuck in a universe within your universe
where you existed as a shell,
perfect and beautiful on the outside
and dark and void on the inside?

I know that I might
one day
live to love again.
The question is
do I want to?

How could I ever open up my heart again,
knowing that it could all come crashing down
as it did before?

It has taken so long to feel healed--
I don't know that I could survive it,
should it happen again.

And so, I continue on in my half-life.
I live in the moment
and I try not to think of the people that I've lost.

But every once in a while,
I will turn on a show
one that ends in happiness or sadness,
it's all the same to me, really,
and I will feel a strange sort of satisfaction
in the tears trickling down my cheeks.

No, they're not tears about my situation--
that is too painful to inhabit--
but they are tears, nonetheless,
and it feels good
for a time
to feel normal.

Paul

Born into the law,
Son of  a Pharisee
 a Pharisee himself.
Paul knew the law
Forward and back,

Hearing of this Jesus,
He was unimpressed.

How could someone
so lawless
so little inclined to following the rules
be Messiah?

It was inconceivable.
And so he did not consider it.

His disdain,
he felt,
proved accurate.

This man,
this Messiah--
crucified?
Ridiculous!

The Son of God put to death upon a cross?
Inconceivable.

He felt himself justified in his unbelief
and he began zealously persecuting those
who persisted in their foolishness.

Others believed as he did.
They acted upon their beliefs
And he held their cloaks.

He continued blindly in his zealous conceit
Until that day
on the road
to Damascus.

"Saul! Why are you persecuting me?"

A voice so strong, words so deep,
that all around him heard the message meant for him.

"I am Jesus, who you persecute!"

And in a moment of blindness,
All was made clear.

He continued to Damascus
led by the hand
And found himself in the care of Ananias.

Who showed the greater faith--
The blind man, trusting that God would provide
or the faithful man, healing the man
who delighted in persecuting his people?

From that time on,
Saul fed the church he had persecuted,
Both physically
and spiritually.

God chooses those that he chooses.
He uses those that he uses,
and always for his glory--
They come to tell his story.

kairos

You say beautiful wordsto me--
but i don't believe them.
They can't be true.
Because they don't reflect me
As i see myself.

Once, I might have treasured them
as an affirmation of who I am.
But too much time has passed
Too many words have been spoken
Too much pain has been endured.

But
I look at your eyes as you speak--
I see nothing but love there.
There is no deceit,
No spark of contempt,
No sting of sarcasm.

Could your words,
perhaps
be true?

Can it be that I see myself
incorrectly?

Perhaps it's time to let go of the pain
the doubt
the anguish.

Perhaps it's time
at last
to embrace your words
and consider them

Truth.

The Lenten Road

Walking the Lenten road,
Turning down the volume,
So as to listen more easily
To the still small voice.

Walking the path quietly,
Slowly,
So that I can better understand
The puzzle of your love.

Taking time when none exists,
Making sure not to make excuses,
Walking slowly in the rush of day,
So that your secrets might be shared.

You are the Lord of the Universe,
Yet you came to earth as a man--
One of us--
The perfect sacrifice for sin.

During these days set apart for you,
Let us remember to listen,
To think,
To contemplate your mysteries,
So that we can learn to love you more.

Amen.

the land of the living

What if I had not believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living?

My heart responds to those words from Ps 27.  It is spoken (rather, sung, since these are songs) in the midst of a plea for physical and spiritual protection from enemies that are fierce and out for blood.

The psalm begins
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?

It then goes on to explain exactly who, and how the Lord protects from these enemies.

It goes on to state the desire of his life:  to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life; to behold the fair beauty of the Lord, and to seek him in his temple.

We shouldn't go to war and pray to an unknown God for peace and protection.
No, we should live our lives in His service and spend our days in his temple
(under the shadow of His wings)
Then when trouble comes, we know the corners where we can hide.
We know the Father to whom we pray,
and we understand the surety of salvation in the evil day,
For we have spoken to him about it in the days, weeks, and months before.

So many of us go about our daily lives without any thought to our Lord God.
Then, when the hour comes in which we cry for comfort and peace,
we are surprised when we are left comfortless.

We don't understand.

It isn't that we are left comfortless,
It is that we don't recognize the Comforter.

So go to your secret place,
Call out to your Father now,
Don't wait for the day of trial to get to know him better.

He is here today, waiting in that still place--
That place that you know instinctively exists--
Go and meet him there.

He will teach you trust,
And hope,
And he will build your faith
From mustard seed to mountain.

Then when the evildoers come to your door
When death, darkness and despair come to call,
You will know where to turn.

He is truly a friend in the darkness,
But it's so much easier to see him in the darkness
If you have first walked with him when it was light.

Coming home

I've lived in Tucson for about 7 years now,
And I feel that Tucson is home.

When I first moved here,
It was difficult.
Every time I wanted to go to a certain store,
I saw a road map in my head

I knew exactly how to get there
In Bakersfield.

When I wanted a certain book,
I knew exactly which bookcase held it
In Bakersfield.

Bakersfield restaurants,
Bakersfield friends,
Bakersfield memories ruled my mind,

Bakersfield was home,
And Tucson was uncharted territory.

As the years passed,
I found something strange happening.

Whenever I was in Bakersfield,
My road map was for Tucson,

But whenever I came home to Tucson,
My road map was for Bakersfield.

Bakersfield was home,
But so was Tucson.

The last time I came to Bakersfield
I was surprised.

I had no road map!
I couldn't remember how to get to favorite places,
And needed to stop and think about where things were.

Everything was changing around me.
Bakersfield was changing
And so was I.

Today, I have come to realize
That Bakersfield is no longer home.

Bakersfield is where I'm from,
And Tucson is home.

And I'm glad.
Not that I left Bakersfield,
But that I found Tucson.

There is much that I love in Bakersfield--
Friends, family, memories--
But Tucson is home.

children on the wall

It seems so foreign now
Silence, being alone.

I'm not complaining, mind you
It just seems strange.

Wasn't it just yesterday that little feet pattered down the hallway,
Little voices crying "Mommy, Daddy!"?

How did time pass so quickly?

I glance at the photos on the walls,
Frilly dresses,
Starched suits,
Awkward smiles frozen in time.

Why do we always go for formal solemnity
When what we remember is so different?

The neatly combed hair seems strange
On a boy who was always mussed.

Clean faces and hands peer out at me,
Daring me to remember them any other way.

Oh, but my darlings, I do!

I remember the mud-covered clothes and faces
Mud covering the floor as you fill the kitchen
Calling out, "Hungry, Mommy!"

I remember the scuffed shoes
Battered knees
Tears falling as you sob,
"Kiss, Mommy!
Make it better."

I did then,
And I wish I could now.

Games and toys and childish delight
Have made way
For jobs and families
And children of your own.

It's now your turn.

Your houses are family full
While mine is finally empty.

But don't weep for me, Angels.

I am content
Knowing that you have found love
And the cycle continues.

Yours is the mud, the hugs,
The tears and boo-boo kisses.

And while I wish you were here,
I'm so thankful that you're there--
With family that loves you.

God bless you my children
As you are blessed with children of your own.

have you seen me?

Have you seen me?
I'm pretty hard to find,
In fact, sometimes it seems that I am invisible.

I am very good at hiding.
I shy away from people,
Even though I desperately want to be loved.

I have been wounded,
and I am afraid that I will be wounded again,
So I keep myself to myself
And do not seek out companionship.

Have you seen me?
I come out only when I think it's completely safe.
and then, not for long.

You might think, "Oh, she's feeling playful today!
What a change from her normal, serious side!"
That's me.

I'm still a child.
I think I always will be.
Hiding among the shadows,
I never got a chance to grow up.

Have you seen me?
I don't appear on any milk carton,
No flyer will ever carry my likeness.

Only her.

She carries remnants of the girl she used to be.
Deep within her lies the broken soul of her childhood self,
Stuffed down, eaten away, pushed into a corner

Not out of hatred
But out of fear.

But once in a while she hears me
And she dares to reveal me
At least for a little while.

If you see me,
Please remember

And when I'm not around,
Please tell her that you miss me.

Then maybe
just maybe

i can come outside
see the sun
and once again be part of her

forever.

please.....

the pharisee

Hi everyone--

This is important to me. Please respond.  I have lots of these portraits--it's the major thing I've always wanted to publish. But how do I publish them?  What do you think they would do best as?  Monologs? Short stories/poetry?  Some sort of book of reflections?

I call them Biblical portraits.  They are pictures of men and women from the old and new testament, seen in a different way.

I would love your comments.  If enough of you comment for me to get a clear picture of what you think, I will follow the majority rule.

Thanks!

the pharisee

Matt 22:34ff, 23

Among my people, there is a saying

that if anyone could keep all the rules

all the laws

for one day

then Messiah would come.

All the rules.

All the laws.

There are over 600 laws recorded in the Torah.

We have laws which govern everything

we do not need to question anything.

It is all clearly spelled out.

Of course, it was not always so.

When our father, Adam, was created

there was only one law

do not eat the fruit.

Knowing he could not,

naturally he ate

and caused the curse to come upon us all.

Since that time, we have slowly become overwhelmed

by law

by rules

by regulations.

Eat this

do not eat that.

Wear this

do not wear that.

Associate with this group,

but not with those over there,

who worship a different way.

Actually, I do not mind it.

I see it as a challenge.

A goad to the intellect.

Who is following the law,

and who is not,

and for those who are not,

what shall the punishment be?

I was content

until he came.

This Jesus.

Who did he think he was?

Saying that all of the laws could be broken down

made into two:

The Shema:

Love the Lord your God with all your heart

and soul

 and mind

and the other like it:

love your neighbor as yourself.

I heard him that night, and at first I was amused,

even impressed

by his insight.

But that night,

alone in my room

with no other faces about me

 to reflect my superiority

I was forced to consider anew his words.

Love the Lord your God

Love God

Love the Lord

Love your neighbor

Love yourself

Love.

This is the difficulty.

Laws are easy to follow.

You know right away if you are right or wrong.

Everything is clearly spelled out

and punishment is swift and sure

for those who transgress.

But love?

What does law have to do with love?

I am a Pharisee.

One of the chosen--

chosen even among the chosen

elite.

A lawyer.

One who has made it his life's work to carry out

the law.

I know every law

all 613

and I ruthlessly search out those who transgress those laws

to prosecute

even kill

 if necessary,

so that the law may stand firm.

But if this man,

this Jesus

is right,

what happens to the law?

What happens to me?

No!

He cannot be right.

For if he is,

then he is God.

And if he is God,

then the law

and everything it stands for

must be different than I had thought.

But I spent my life in the study of the law.

I cannot be wrong.

The price is too high.

Therefore,

he cannot be God.

And if he,

not being God,

proclaims himself God,

then he must die

so that the word of the law may be fulfilled.

There is a tradition among my people

that if one man should uphold all the law

for one day

then Messiah would come.

As I watched him on the cross

a man who

it was said

had no guilt in him

it occurred to me:

could it be that the only man who could uphold the law

all the law

for one day

was the Messiah?

And was that man

Messiah

even now upholding the law

fulfilling the law

on that same cross?

No!

It could not be.

The price was too high.

Unless, of course,

you reasoned in the price

of love.

to remember

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.  Pray you, love, remember."  Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5

Sometimes it's hard to remember.
Sometimes remembering hurts.
The little kindnesses shown,
The half-smile on the beloved's face,
The moment when you first realized that this is the last moment that you will have together
Can burn like fire when brought to mind
After death.

But love,
Remember.

Fire will eventually burn itself out
And among the embers
You will find sparks and glowing bits of memories.

The sparks leap and shine in our hearts:
The first glimpse
The first date
The first time
The kiss that spoke more than words ever could
And the promise made that you were sure could never be forgotten.

The glow sometimes is more elusive, but it still remains nonetheless:
The pleasant Sunday spent among the sheets,
Reading the cartoons to the kiddies
The whole family together and united.

The morning that you both felt sick and stayed home from work,
And so spent the day in adjoining easy chairs
Sipping 7-Up and eating crackers,
Every once in a while glancing at one another and smiling,
Content to be together even during this.

Sparks and embers, moments of sweetness,
but also moments of recognition:

That vacantness where there used to be only love,
That creeping coldness when you touch once-loving arms,
The moment you walk away from the bedroom
realizing
that you would never again come together as one.

Yes, those memories hurt.

But they're part of the fire, aren't they?

They're the ash.
They remind you that what you once had was gone.

Death has come.

Death of the beloved
or death of the relationship

And it's time to move on.

So, yes, move on,
But don't relegate your memories to some cobweb-filled back room.
For one thing, they will refuse to stay there.
They will keep inserting themselves in your dreams,
In your thoughts,

At the most inopportune time.
They cry out for you to pay attention.

So pay attention.
There is nothing to fear,
And much to learn.

Pray you, love,
Remember.

Who shall find rest? Thoughts on Messiah

He shall lead his flock like a shepherd
Will you, now?  Will you really?  Who exactly will you lead?  The conservative right? The liberal left?  The gatherings who can trace their heritage to  the foundation of Your church? The newcomers who have broken away because of perceived errors in this line or that line?  Who?

Will you lead only those who are fit to be called Your children?  And who determines that, by the way?
The above-mentioned conservative right or liberal left?  Are all children your children?
Are none of us really really yours?
Is this just some big cosmic joke?

What flock exactly will you lead?

And he shall gather the lambs in his arm
And he shall carry them in his bosom
The lambs.  You will gather the lambs and carry them.  The lambs from Columbine?  The lambs from Sandy Hook?  The lambs from Kenya and Congo and Botswana?  All of these?  What if some don't believe in you?

Will you keep them safe even when the world is determined to do them damage?

And he shall gently lead those who are with young.
Oh.  That was me.  You led me all those days when the earth was black and without hope or purpose.  You led me past hardship and sorrow and grief and pain and loss and suicidal thoughts and you carried me
right into more grief and pain and loss

But were you really carrying me?  I felt so alone.

Come unto him, all ye that labor
Come unto him, ye that are heavy-laden
And he will give you rest.
Well, that's pretty clear.  All.  Conservative right, liberal left, homosexuals, homophobes, pro-life, pro-choice--everyone. Only qualification--you have to be heavy-laden.  Does that let anyone out?  I really don't think so.  All of us struggle.  Guilt, shame, depression, humiliation, physical and mental infirmity-we all struggle.  We all labor under our own yokes.  And when we come unto him--when we seek him out (or accept that he has led us to him) what happens?  We find rest.  Rest for the weary. That sounds good. 

Take his yoke upon you
And trust in him
What? Another yoke?  Don't we have enough to bear already?  Do we also have to bear his burden?  But wait.  Trust in him.  When you yoke two animals together, the burden--no matter what it is--is decreased.  You don't have to bear it alone.  He isn't asking you to take more; he's asking you to give him more and let him take care of it all.  You just have to trust.  But trust is such a big word!  Why should we trust?

For he is meek and lowly of heart
And you shall find rest unto your soul.
Oh.  He is meek and lowly of heart.  What does that even mean?  Meek?  The dictionary says that to be meek is to be patient and submissive.  Submissive?  To me?  You mean he will allow me to put my needs first?  And lowly?  What is lowly of heart?  A heart that is meek.  A heart that isn't bound up in pride.  Coming unto a man such as this would surely bring rest to the soul.

So yes, Lord,
I accept you as my Shepherd. 
I accept that I am a lamb--one of many, but precious to you.
I acknowledge my need to find rest
And to find the ability to trust.

So today,
As much as I can,
I take your yoke, 
Put it upon myself--
knowing that you are sharing my burden so much more than I'm sharing yours
And I ask for grace
To trust in You.

And this trusting comes without the need for answers.
I need not worry about conservative right, liberal left,
Lambs in the US and abroad,
Those who know you and those who don't know you.

They are not my burden to bear.
Not that they aren't important--
They are, much more than I can ever comprehend.
But they are your burden, 
Not mine.
And even my own burden,
My heart, my friends, my children, my past and my future--
Your desire is for me to give them over in bondage with you.

And so I do,
Now and forever.
Amen.