Thursday, Dec. 10.

The wooden spoon scraped against the onions and the bottom of the pan as he looked up, smiling proudly 

"Ken taught me a few things about cooking," he said, "how to caramelize onions by cooking them for a long time on low." Bending over, he softened the flame so it barely produced heat

The fire, soft, like the sound of a humming bird or a tide on a windless morning 

His back bent like the shape of a capital L

I poked at the onion on the table with my finger like you would poke a jellyfish in the sand 

Earlier this week, he explained to me, I cut off the rotten half of that onion. Then he carefully showed me how he would go about dissecting the rest of it and where to make the incision to remove the brown off the other leaves to still preserve the good white flesh. 

I hugged him in the kitchen later that day crying that I wanted him to just be free... He hugged me back, comforting and stiff like an L, confused as to what parts of him there were left to cut off to get there. 

Family and turkey

To leave is a sad sickening feeling 

The feeling you get at an airport or when someone put just the right flair to a eulogy and people are both laughing and crying 

It is s good sick sad feeling leaving home

Every

Single

Time.

Mom bags food for us to take home, each of us with our serving of mashed potatoes and dark and white meat

Sweet potatoes between the beans and the stuffing like the middle seat of a car 

Uncomfortable and orange 

Dad leans far over the sink

This is one of the first years I've seen him so engaged in the process 

Scrubbing the China and stacking it like little men that Mom cares for each holiday

Heaven forbid it be dishwashed 

Dad is a warrior today, 

The turkey knife buzzing like a tattoo gun or hair trimmers rattling behind an ear

The hustling

Jazz music plays and he names every song during our movie as if we are quizzing him

But we aren't 

Joe and K stretch far across the couches and between pillows their hands intertwined or comfortable across 

Sleeping next to each other 

This is good. I see that this is good despite any heated normal arguments or love songs waiting to be written or jobs as bartenders 

You are still walking forward and I am happy to watch. 

My insides hurt for the broken parts of this little body, this family 

The alcohol breath and the socks of a brother who now has been asked to care for himself

It is time 

The socks that haven't been cleaned in a month 

& then the stiff brother who is soft and strong like a lion 

Relearning to laugh 

With red eyes because he has meant it when he had been told to cry out

He sits through the entire movie though

Even enjoys it

And I'm proud of his lingering

This normality that was uncommon a year ago 

We are talking now about dating instead of eating and I find that to be a huge improvement 

I'm sick sometimes because my love for them is so large 

Max says I'm always stitching or trying for years

And he is right 

I was never going to cause issues 

It was my job to help

And it worked until 

I fell apart too and didn't know how to ask for help myself 

I know now 

Max is normal

Crammed behind the TV trying to get the football station to Come in strong

Beckoning Josiah to the roof 

Like its normal 

He has been my normal 

And has loved my quirky family like I love them 

And I'm grateful for all of it

My grandma with her bad leg and wide set eyes that she gave me and her sweet sweet spirit

The time she took today, rubbing my back... Something I can't ever remember her doing before. 

My Grandpa in plaid and in love holding her by her elbow, coughing up some nonsense about how our cousin shouldnt date someone who is not our kind

Our kind?? Meaning white?

We are messy and set in our ways and hurtful and hurting but

There is still love

And I'm so so grateful for this mess and this no matter what kind of love

Family. 

J

You

Are far away

Puncturing the English culture with your Bengali American flare 

Bustling around 

I see you there in the park

Snipping at pine trees with your small scissors 

Maybe wearing long and green Hunter boots

On your tiptoes

Olive beside you, or some such child 

The table is set

I can't imagine because I have just got up

But hey

That is the difference between here and there 

The ocean stretching his legs out between us 

Not building a bridge 

I wish everyone knew what I knew about you

You are strong

Yet kind and so

People don't always know

You've been thinking about this meal all week and yet 

When people enter your home

You will greet them which such comfort that

They'll think your home always looks this warm this cozy this handsome 

That you possibly just whipped the food up

They'll feel this way because you,J, will love them

And it will outweigh the food

Or the decor

Though those pine nips are adorable

C

Bon Iver is there 

Licking the noise 

You and I have chosen him over Christmas music 

The hour carries on and charcoal pencils scratch at the surface of black paper

Acrylic paint falls from tubes like a druel 

You throw down your paintbrush after I speak

and I find your tiny art in the trash

The paint is raised and the darks are brilliant next to the white 

The edges are cut imperfectly and close to the reflective objects 

carefully I compliment and critique because both of these you have blown up at saying 

I'm lying because you can do better and I'm lying 

Quietly I ask if we can talk after class while you project your feelings about your work onto me as if I said those rude things that you have said to yourself as you try and build the color

You stand 

all of yourself turned into your oversized Levi jean jacket

Hair long and rude over your shoulders 

The apron packed away 

No septum piercing today 

all I have said is

You could be an artist someday...for real, and I love your style, and great work on the tonal value 

Maybe develop this spot a little more 

And you remind me of myself but still

You say I'm lying 

And why don't I critique you more

And then I can't win because I have also tried that

I ask you to not yell during class

And also not to tell me I'm lying at least not in front of all the other students carefully bringing their work to a glow

because it comes across as disrespectful 

And you cry

You didn't mean to be disrespectful 

And I tell you that I know that 

And that its okay

I try to hug you but you tap on my back and stiffen

You tell me you really really like me

That I have good jams

To sit next to you because you are lonely

But push away every piece of sweet words I have to say

As if they are poison and unable to make you more

I call Vicki and she tells me

Yes yes you did the correct thing and 

Then

Thank you for being you

And I wince and accept it with a tiny window of my brain and then

Realize how easy it must be

To not believe 

Even

One 

Word of kindness. 

jet skis.

we took them down carefully
the sun lapping at our shoulders while the waves slurped us into its mouth
without care

i happen to admire things with engines
& a small element of danger
anything loud and obnoxious and carefree
that in all reality will not harm a bone in my body
unless something malfunctions

we took them away
skampering across the water like a child
the sun kissing over its head, under its chin in a park
the kind of scenery that makes you fall in love with life

Kristen like a bird in a nest
her backbone tight and high

we were almost to the big lake when the beep came across the water
like a fire alarm, loud and tart, startling us from sleep
cut through the quiet waves and Kristen yells
"SHITTTT" and turned the machine
large and like a robot under her
back
be
bee
beeping the whole way

like a fart. 

Yeshimon

June 26, 2015

The head was heavy. I never expected on this trip to hold my best friends brown head in my palm because she had lost control of her neck—because somewhere between A and B her entire body shut off completely.

There were commands from the nurses—Move the braid, add the cool neck towel, keep her ears uncovered, drop her arms and then cool the forehead, remove the shoes, feed her a bite & then another.

There was enough water in her system, three liters to be exact—not counting all the water we shoved down her throat after her body gave out. And yes, she had enough sport beans, so stop trying to over analyze the situation. Still, the very strength from her elbows, her toes—all those places you don’t think of as strong—had lost all function.

I want to be clear, it wasn’t that she couldn’t keep climbing. She climbed and unclimbed Mt Sinai just like the rest of us. She taught me on the stairs as we trained that we can do another, we CAN DO an eighth flight!

Rod stood at the front of the bus after all of this, and reminded us all, she is talented and strong and committed and prepared, and yet God—he chose this mountain, this day, this girl to teach the rest of us about Yeshimon.

It was in this place that we started the day, in the wasteland.

If you are wondering what YESHIMON is, it is a land you come to where you cannot make it without outside help…

Rod warned us of this right at the beginning, when we were young in our day, eager and ready and excited for the looming walls of the bare and electric rock before us. The sun was plugged in, warming the land for our journey, much to his joy. (He prayed for that sun so we could experience then entirety of this desert, and boy did we ever.)

The cliffs hung desperate and loud with praise, ragged and jagged like the fingernails of an overworked man. If there is green, it is hard and durable like metal spikes pretending to be cheerful. We took each step across the loose rock like we were walking ice, deliberate & careful. Every step required a prayer for strong ankles.

This YESHIMON was the place Elijah ran, desperate and depressed—begging God to let him die. We met a broom tree much like the one Elijah sat under for shade, as it cut at our ankles with its knives of thorns. This plant was named “the shade of the desert.” The desert, this place where God fulfills all need, and gives “just enough.”

“Why? Why the desert?” you ask. Because, God is here! We see Him here! Better than that, we NEED Him here and so this is why He brings us there. Not to hurt us but to give us a full full life. One we cannot experience without Him in His entirety. And so hardship is a gift and something we also cannot do alone. It is HERE he teaches us to rely on Him and on others for all of it. Every step. Here we learn that what we once thought was sweet really has no flavor at all once we taste and see that the Lord is good.

It is HERE in the desert the Israelites wander, reaching Mt. Sinai where Moses climbed like we did and met the Lord (Jesus) as a friend would meet, face to face. Or head in palm.

Rod herds us gently into the corners of the desert, each and every hand and foot put to good use to get the person behind us one step further. Falling in line like a snake—over, around, down—the rocks. A few of us leap like goats—some of us quaking like the shaking hand of an elderly hand. Each a necessary part of it all, this crusty beloved family.

Our temporary shepherd stops, deliberately spacing our rest so we can feed on the word, while the canopy of stone hangs in silence around us. It is now, when we are gathered, when the stones beneath our failing feet are silent—it is then that I can see and hear God.

He is watching us, gentle, quiet, listening.

And we proceed in our chatter, dried mangos, our urinating.

He is in all of it.

At last—we reach the top. Somehow we feel it is the end. Around us standing stones erect like chimneys saying “GOD, we will trust you,” “GOD we will move forward with you.”

The Sun, its stinging our legs, slapping them red while we learn how God loved us—hard and good into his arms, the place He’s beckoned us from the beginning. And like an independent child we twist and turn away from His embrace. Like a mustang we fight for ourselves—untamed for self reliance. Straining at the beautiful creation of fences He’s made of these vows He’s spoken like a love song over us to protect and guide and bless us.

And us, unaware that they are made in love we fight the fences—these sweet laws that keep us safe from wolves and we hurt and we hurt and we hurt in our protest
But, He marries us despite our straining and striving away. He married you. He married me.
He married and loves and admires my best friend and L as she pushes along with the imperfect leg and us through our divorces and our trembling and our depression and our anxiety and our grumpy lack of sleep selves. He still does.

And as Nate holds Janas hand, as he weeps with empty hands and a full mouth of prayer he turns his back on all of it to speak to God face to face, friend to friend—to tell God, “I will not forget, I will remember”

He chooses to be small even when more than anything in the world he wants to be large and able he realizes more than self reliance he wants the best for his wife, his bride. (such a picture of Christ) So, the young football players, the youth pastors, the men, the caboose, & yes the photographer too, carry her limbs over the craters and the three blonde nurses huddle
and rotate ankles and Mike waves and Jeremy calms. And Rod, the shepherd gets on his knees and carefully calmly whispers “Rest, Precious one. Rest on the inside.”

We share water, tears, prayer, highfives, saliva. We share a God. A Father.

He carried the entirety of this in his palm, watching, smiling particularly pleased with the little brown sheep.

Carving out ahead of us just enough time, just enough arms, just enough shade just enough manna, & just enough water from a rock.
We may have FELT like an Acacia tree, crooked and dormant like an old ladies back after years hunched over, but then our God, He comes like a WADI (a stream) and refills its
branches with food for camels and hard hard wood for places that God once lived.
And we find in our desperateness that that is what God is, a stream, Shade, arms—and what God is is what we shall be to the world.
And so, if even Jana thinks she is a burden or small or stupid we had an excellent opportunity to be a Priest today and be exactly what God is to her.
Shade, rest, water, a gate. To speak love over her And anyone who may be not strong enough to lift up their head.

– Chelsea Garter

Savannah: a Large Grassy Plane

Sunday
I met her

her bangs hung like vines heavy in her eyes
her two arms like handcuffs locked around Mikes neck

I asked her if we could be friends, and she said yes but did not budge
the dark of her skin, her hair somehow resembling her new adoptive Mother

Carley and I talked about it briefly over the last year
here and there I cut her hair treading softly  so as not to awaken the sorrow of
the unawakened womb

"God will do this," she'd say, "I know this,"
but it hadn't come as quickly as they'd hoped

& then, Savannah
she came unexpected and brittle and energetic
like a kitten who just discovered site

hours were spent skyping her, memorizing her
as Texas held her tightly

Carleys eyes began to sparkle and I cried
as I snipped off brittle, damaged ends of her hair
and left in its place
health
smooth
alive.

Savannah came tiny and confused and cried herself to sleep
her entire body shook like grass does when hit by rain that first night, home
it was because her mother had left her with grandparents
and grandparents and handed her to this home, a place of
health
smooth
alive
in the midst of her chaos.

Carley was wearing yellow the day she told me
that inside her womb was a peach sized human
and over weeks from afar I watched her grow

(Im in tears writing this)

suddenly, this couple of two
became four
just. like. that.

Last night,
a week and a half after I met tiny Savannah
the boys were in the outfield
slapping butts
hackling the other team
hitting homeruns, losing
sliding carefully into base but
Mike slid too hard or to the wrong side or too abruptly
his leg moved sideways in a broken direction

the crowd around him
I saw my husband carefully carry his leg all the while Mike said
"this can't happen now, this is a 6 month process, Im a new Dad and my baby is coming soon, I have three girls at home"
and the women stood far away
hands covering their mouths or their eyes
backs straight like peacocks in the stands

I know all of this will end beautifully
"God will do this, I know this" (taken from the wife herself)
but if you could pray for this family or bring a good sized meal to their door
It will be a blessing.
thanks for reading.

...

I don't know what happened after that
there was skin to skin contact with Mali's
Nigerian tunes on the Niger river
edward, the orphan
dance parties to fight off demons and the
begging of corrupt police for cash or they will take us in
that neighbor boy who accepted Jesus because you were determined

You then, were yourself.
& slowly tried to tear away at the comfortable skin
hoping to find someone better
burried
under there

your knees became raw in the search
hands enlarged and red
sleep loss
bones aching for bread for years
the seizures then took hold
banging your head against the concrete over and over
hospital beds

& God watched and wept because
he liked you just as you were
before you went on the search
to find someone else

I think you must have not yet discovered that God is that person for you
and you don't have to work so hard to get there

I begged God for answers of how to fix this and He simply said
"Love him just as he is"

and that was the hard road.

because my addiction had always been repair with arms clad
in needle and thread and long words
bandaids
to fix fix fix what is broken

But that too makes sense because you and I were born of the same cloth
always trying to find the solution instead of just letting God

and of course his answer would have been
to love as He loves us
& then it all made sense.

I love you
forever and always

&
that means i love the passion in you
and the mistakes that you hurtle over

and the things about you that I don't love,
well I put these in a place where I will not look at them

because love covers that up

and yeah
i believe we have been intentionally put
next to each other
to heal

to press
on those little places until God takes leaves and heals

to purge us of an old us that doesn't look too loving
& sometimes
thats what all this is
about anyway

wish I could have been there

i can see it happening
the building is like a storm with all the chatter
everything is wooden including the mistress who just got called out in front of everyone

I think its funny all of that happening while people prowl for a table around all of you
eyes wide the lot of you
beer drinkers clueless
seeking a seat like a hungry dog for food

they are both there, you watch it all
oh its been so long since they were both there in the same room
she used to enter the house without a key and sing the children to sleep and now
im furious at the place she has in your life

I can see it
she is set back in her chair
yes, attacked and yes it was justified
we will do what it takes to fight for this

now let me talk to you, friends of this situation
I dont understand how you can just sit there with her
all of you
collectively sharing a beer and telling a story about your day
oh how cute your glasses are and your new bangs
gross
you act as if you dont know that 
someone elses husband just climbed into her bed
and you happen to call the wife of this man family

im so confused
how can you call HER family too?
bump elbows,
buy a beer
oh sit here sit here

this isnt how family works.
I think im mad again dangit

Im mad because this woman who has for practically her whole life
fought to love this man
him, tall and like a piece of lumber
so quickly crumbles when a young chicky-babe strokes his fancy
oh he thinks its fancy
this earth might tell him THAT is fancy
but just wait
is he really all that strong and how long will SHE keep him hypnotized
I think she must be crazy too giving herself to such weak weak man
does she really think shes strong enough to keep him around
tall like a piece of lumber

this woman
HIS WIFE
may I remind you
as you sit there with his MISTRESS
laughing over a beer
is a WOMAN not a girl
not a chicky BABE
geesh
she is the one who bore his children
she is the one who built a home
she is the one who cleaned his house and made his meals
she is the one who he called all those years while away driving truck
and wrote note card after note card of verses
packed little meals to surprise him
unfaithful man that he was, she endured and loved because
love believes all things
hopes all

sure, sure you can love her someday
but not while she lets that into her bed and her body
you can love her once she is a tree that has fruit
but now? not now. she is giving away all of eternity for this sugary feel good bite
gross

yes he does not deserve his wife and
why does he think he can punish himself with something he wants

im so confused as to how you can sit there
elbows on the same table
eye contact so perfectly alligned with this woman who spreads herself like butter
over top of a man who is not hers

this silly addiction will not pay off in eternity
it wont

and I know who will get the crown.


"Lord, who will dwell in your sacred tent? who will live in your holy mountain?
... the one who keeps an oath (vow//promise) even when it hurts and does not change their mind." Psalm 15

she

is a tiny box
that is full

the box is wood
sturdy
compact

most people have large boxes
full of very small things clanging around
trying to make enough noise to sound full

but
she is small
content
the box organized so that she can take one thing out at a time
and use it to its fullness

her feet are square
two of them
clunky fingers holding pen firm
like one block cut in half
perfect fit
eyebrows perfectly trim
knees lined up
even breath

she has been a pinecone you know
young and tight
full of seed
just freshly fallen from the tree
time will open it
you will see

and her seed
will bear much fruit

dear you

you are in a far far away place
remember this when your mind feels jumbled and uneasy
remember that the people you normally would turn to to cry with
or laugh with or spill all of this uneasy mind with
remember they are far away and so let yourself breathe a little
you will be home soon
you can sort it out then

B
he spoke on Sunday about the topic of discussion
he said you have nothing to fear because
if you have fear about it,
you have absolutely nothing to fear
people who fear what you are fearing
can literally not do what you fear
am i making sense
i hope I am
i think you will understand. no one else will even get it thats why
this is for you

i think you are in a place you cant skype or call or message
so know
im thinking of you
and its all going to be ok
you are okay okay?
because what you want you can have you know
and so if you want something different than what you fear
you wont go there. ever. ever. ever.

promise. 

im fragile
ive told him before but
he has forgotten
he forgets sometimes everyday it seems
 but then there I go again with my always and never and everyday

there are a few different kinds of cups you know that hold alcohol
im a wine glass
you are a beer mug

but you treat me and talk to me and drink from me like I am a beer mug
and sometimes I think it might break me because i am not meant to be handled this way

ive tried to be stronger
different
bolder
more blunt
sharp
even mean to you to connect with you
to communicate better but
i felt like it was not a language I knew well
and it came out all wrong and bent

it is not in my nature and so
we must learn
my love
to drink
of love
together

even though our hands are very different sizes
we must still hold hands

i fart on my dog alot in bed. she doesnt mind one bit.

adoption and wombs

K:

I watch you
five years
grieve your womb
touch your middle, pray for it
cry
look on with jealousy at your sister who so easily bares children
cry
stand strong
pray again
try again
try everything the dr's recommend
you even let them sew your stomach so that perhaps
after shedding the extra weight
you can have a body that functions properly for a baby
and still God disappoints you

during this process God leads you to adopt from Africa
some commercial about children in Ghana and you step outside of yourself
you tell Kitri he will be the color of chocolate
you raise support
you decide the color of his room
and make a list of names that make you and A both smile
you can finally let go of your womb now

I dont pretend to understand
i cant imagine

and you follow
you keep walking
you chase after what He might have despite difficulty
the
doors slammed repeatedly in your face
oh adoptions in Ghana is closed now
oh its Ethiopia now
oh Grandparents want you to have a white baby not brown
the referrals seem so out of reach
and we dont get it

but you keep stepping forward because he said to, you raise the money
send the money
do what is asked
and then that little knock
from a coworker
begging you to look at a different idea
maybe domestic adoption
maybe her niece
and you pray and its a yes

and four months later a tiny peanut butter baby (as Jana might call it)
is laid in your arms
a premature birth
struggling to come off the drugs her mom exhaled

Lyric Gentry
you call her
and she is so perfect
with almond eyes
and a little round face

you hold her and photograph her and love her and thank God for writing this story
and it is a good good good story
and still now you always proclaim about God how good God is
and i like it

and then seven months later you take a pregnancy test and
it is positive.

and we cry and scream and cant believe this goodness
it is so yummy and perfect and even better than the turkey we are eating over Christmas

and God is good. because he loved Lyric so much that he waited for your womb to be open
so that your home could be open for her, and your heart
because he gives good good things
and promises to fulfill the desires of our hearts
even if it isnt what we think
and then once our desires our filled
he puts on the frosting
and we can't believe
how could it be even better than what we imagined.



S:
can you believe how beautiful she is
I always think it when she is in my chair, I think wow
her soft organ inside so alive and perky and beautiful
and a face to match

secretly im perfectly fine with her being so beautiful because
(and this has happened a few times)
someone told me that they waved at her on Sunday and thought she was me
and I was extremely complimented

and this woman, she is so so so full of faith that God will and does bring about desires of our hearts
for months, you know, I dont even know how long she suffered and struggled and didnt give up
I dont pretend to understand what she went through or how hard it was
sits in my chair a few times during this time of trying
full of faith and yet a little pepper of discouragement in a few spots
i doubt i ever said the right things
somedays I bet are harder than others but
God is good, you remind me, God is good

and I applaud you for never giving that up that God is good
and that HE WILL fulfill this for you
you know He will
no matter what people say
or how they tell you how to be barren
or tell you to read Hannah's story
your faith challenges me, S
know that

and then there was that last haircut where you told me a secret
that there was a tiny muchacha out there
needing a home
abandoned
and your eyes got shiny and bright and I think I almost cried
you've been stepping toward that
and into it
and trying to put on what the word "Mom" sounds like
like a shirt you might wear for ever that you have to hold loosely until she has your last name
its a God thing, we know because your husband is both feet in

and Sunday we are talking about normal things at church like
split ends and
adoption
small talk
I ask, are things still moving forward with the adoption and you say
yes yes
there you are beaming in your mustard yellow shirt
and then your eyes they get shiny and bright and I think I almost cried because
you told me you are ten weeks along
and

God
God you are
God you are SO GOOD

thats all i can say


and to CM:
i work next to you
you are quiet
and soothing to all of our clients
they repeat back to you like a fish in a bowl
because they like how you make them feel
and look

sometimes your eyes are sadder than others
and sometimes you cant be at work because of the dr appt or the hospital visit
and then sometimes you are brave and share that your insides are broken
and so is your heart
and you keep pressing in and saying yes we believe this can happen
and then sometimes your cramps come and its like starting over from scratch
as we all hold our breath

but

I know my God
he says "Delight in me and I will give you the desires of your heart"
and I think that is a promise and so
I know my God
he will fulfill
and maybe it will come in the form of something else because sometimes
sometimes that is how it happens
but I cannot help but believe that
he has heard your cry

and he is saying shh, cease striving
know that I am God

and I have stories, my sister
of where he did this very thing
and filled the desires of hearts with
exactly that.

your desires.



God,
thank you. and God
please
let it be the case that I can write a story later on
about CM
and her womb that is full.
let me have faith like K and S

you will fulfill this.
you will. I believe you will.

expose into the light

I've been busy the last month and so haven't really had the time to write. theres been a lot going on. a few sleepless nights a some clothes that have been ruined from oil paint and a house that looked like a tornado went through it.

i have a brother who could use your prayers. he is sick with anxiety and some form of mental illness that we are trying to put our finger on. it makes some of my demons of anxiety and depression sort of jump back out at me, but God has been faithful to quiet some of it and put me back in a place of calm and surety.

anxiety is real.

I know I've talked about it before, but I want to talk about it more. because there are a lot of people that struggle with this, this and depression and fear and insecurity and I think if we talked about it more we would find that being real is so freeing it is so easy to paint this picture of perfection when really we all have these looming things that we deal with like hating to do laundry and dishes, or hearing voices that aren't there, or fear we are a lesbian, or being scared of ferris wheels... I dont care what it is, sometimes things like these sit on our heads and push us down and we never talk about them and I think we should because chances are someone probably LOTS of people can relate.  (When I list things like that, im not listing things that i necessarily deal with, but either i or people i know deal with and have dealt with) I can relate. I didn't start getting healing until I spoke those things out. when I spoke them out they started to lose power...

something my husband says a lot is "we get to choose." and we do. we get to choose. we get to make decisions about our life. we get to decide what to be angry about and how long to stay angry. we get to decide when to raise our voice and what words to use and if we want to forgive and get healing. we get to decide if we want help for that issue or not or if we want to keep it like a little precious all to ourselves.

I hated fear for awhile, but I was also addicted to it. too encompassed by it that I couldn't let go. and it was really hard for a few years, training my mind, fighting it. some times I wanted to give up. everyday was exhausting. medication helped. but I still had to fight my demons and when I did I got to go on less medication. and im happier now. less anxious.

but I still get anxiety.

and thats ok. its ok as long as i am still fighting.

because life is real and hard and struggles shouldn't define us or surprise us because in this life we fight things that we cannot see. especially as Christians.

and we get to choose what to think and believe and what to follow.

but i tell you
Jesus has changed me. he's made me new.
hes delivered me from my fears.
ive seen him give people power to clean their houses when its their least favorite things
or fight for their marraige when they were having obsessive thoughts about someone else
or disconnect decide to get rid of facebook when they were looking up people and images that weren't ok, or confess to addiction to a entire room of people or say "i dont know Jesus and I want to"

ive been there.

I didn't know him for a long time and I had to break through and past a lot of false ideas about who he was and who the Father was before I could get to hear him and know him and see him and I still have to seek

but seeking will be blessed, God promises that

and I still have to fight old demons and new
but it gets easier as I start thinking Gods thoughts and not my own
and learning how to make decisions based on wisdom and not feeling because feelings are fleeting

so if your reading this, I guess what Im saying is
expose all the darkness

i dont care if its as weird as a fettish for kids or laziness or pornography
these things might be scary to talk about and to let out into the light
but it is necessary
in order
to
be
free.

and I have read far too many stories  and known way too many people who didn't expose their sins and their insides and it ate them alive and destroyed their lives

and they ended up in jail for life because they never talked about it and it turned into rape or murder
or almost lost their three girls and amazing wife for a summer fling
or led an entire church astray because they kept their little secret a secret

maybe these things sprung from things that happened to them as children
but we get to choose what to talk about
what to let take hold of us
what to expose or what to keep a secret


and so i want to challenge and encourage people to
talk
about
what
is
going
on
inside.

no matter what
(we are all broken)

and know that no matter what
there are people who will love you despite your crap
and your fear
and your fettishes
because you are a human

and it is only normal to struggle.

(but to not struggle with them is to accept them)

children

we are
exhausted

he snores next to me, then turns
inhales all the flem lying in his esophagus

the window rattles as the sun turns in for the evening
dusk begins to lick everything

we are
exhausted

one of the children asked me yesterday
are you going to have kids
and I spread open my arms wide to show her the room around us
and said, look, we have almost 100 already.

she thought it was funny, but
i meant it.

this weekend, these few tiny days remind me what it was like to be
tiny

one person laughed at me during a sporty game and i went crumbly crumbling to my husband
because it reminded me of being young

i remember i would have liked someone to put me under their wing then
but i had no one and so i tested the limits on how short my shorts could go
without dad saying a thing
or how flirty i could be and how many little boys heads i could turn
i was loud and flamboyant and blonde and tiny
like these girls, desperate for direction for a role model
desperate for attention
for someone to think they have something to offer

her
eyes go all misty because she is stuck on a team without friends
no one will talk to her
her eyes are huge and swollen behind those large glasses
they make her eyes look even bigger like a cartoon
I can see grief and also pulling on me at the same time trying to sway my decision
her
hair tight like string bound on a knitting ball to her head
i try to weigh between kind and soft and stern
knowing she needs boundaries and rules but also
her dad at one time hung by a string and left them helpless

she
pastors daughter, wants to change the world by changing herself
getting stuck in the mountains somewhere far away from people
so she can "find herself and get close to God"
I saw a little something she wrote on the front of her journal this weekend
"God is working in me"
her eyes look straight through you and her laughter is confident but
she still looks at the size of herself in the mirror
and surveys what she sees
she loves the jeep and wants to be homeschooled and likes to wear clothes that are
comfortable and covering and
i like her spirit
it is strong

her
mascara somehow stays on all night and those eyelashes look as tall as trees when you compare them to your own, i see myself in her drivenness, her overness
her correct words her constant work to impress
her over talking
shucking herself across my lap, feet in her friends
hair draping long
she told me yesterday that her Father was Catholic, until he met her mom
and then he changed but it didn't shake the strictness from him
and the only way she can relate to him is by pushing herself to the end with her sports
all of her muscles tight and bound to her legs like a baby in a sling
she is the one the angels had a party over
and i pray she doesn't follow him just because of fear
but because of love

she
the quiet gem.
tight in her head with so much to offer, she is careful with her words
sometimes they are drawn out of her carefully by me or her or her
but I see her take everything in
and her hands write a scroll with all that she learns
she shares that someday she would maybe like to be a missionary
and that is all she needs to say to us
no fluff or gushing or over impressing
simple and to.the.point.
i know there is music in her and color
everyone can see it
she will soon be a butterfly.

her
brother tells us how hard it is for him
to be a brother to adopted children
the chaos, the noise, the constant fighting for peace
the demon possessed brother who promises to kill
they talk thick and long all the way home and yet were so collected
all of retreat. it just has sunk in for them that the adopted ones are 100% their siblings
in the same way that God has made them 100% their own
and this will change everything.
she is quick to hug me,  her Dora haircut always falls perfect at her shoulders
i find her often at my elbow
arms open
waiting for a hug or giving one, sometimes slung across M during worship
so quiet, very few questions or inquiries or comments
yesterday she wondered if God knows who will come to him
or if it is our choice
and I said yes. to both.

she
lets the tears fall as i put my hand on her knee and ask God to do the same
he is already but maybe she doesn't know that He is the Father that she
has never met before, the one who left them when she was just a baby
he can fill and will fill and does fill this space that has so long been empty
her dark eyes, little curls spraying themselves out of her poney-tail
she tells me secrets and afterwards, afraid I will share
I will not share and I can see it is a choice she is making
to trust me
this little fragile daughter so interested in being accepted
so loud to try and be heard
so unorderly to try and be extraordinary
she already is
she just doesnt know it does not hinge on herself

i could share more
there are many more
but these are a few of my children
and i am learning to love them well
with him
next to him
and HE

angel party

maybe it was just God sitting up there with his wooly white beard on his throne surrounded by sapphire
maybe he was the only one that knew that this night was not going to be a normal night

D, the professor, pastor extrodanair (can you just spell that one out? I dont know how to spell it, i tried, i was homeschooled) talked about Revelations. a book i know so little about. and it was so good, he put some perspective out there with his pacing, his uneven tone, his pictures

he asked us if we had ever asked the question, "am I the antichrist?" and if we hadn't asked that, he asked us to ask, am i at all anti Christ? What in my life is not PRO CHRIST

he talked about how there was a people in bible times, (I wish I could spell the name of them), who, to avoid death and persecution chose in their hearts to "remain Christians" and yet on the outside live in a way, speak in a way, act in a way that no one would know so that they had to pay no consequence for their Christianity

and after, when he was done preaching, when we huddled into the back room, M laid on the floor with her hand up waiting for attention, and wanted to ask as soon as she could, even before the rest of us were all seated. Her long hair sprawled out behind her, her countenance seemingly calm, inside alarms going off

"how do I know if I am anti- Christ? How do I know if I am a  Christian?"


I was amazed at how when I asked the girls "how can you be saved" they gave generic answers about doing certain things to be a Christian instead of once mentioning faith or Jesus taking all their sins

Even C, Even L asked "how do I know if I actually have Jesus?"
one sitting straight in her rocking chair, not a word until this, not a movement, not a sound
absorbing all this Jesus talk as if their life depended on it (it does)

L, calmly on her knees, hair falling curly over her shoulders, absorbing all this Jesus talk as if her life depended on it (it does)

and then when we offered to pray over them, for them to repeat it
they asked "can we do this at home? Can we ask Jesus into our hearts when we are alone? and how do we do it?"

Oh, and the journey has just begun... this growing into the gospel
this trying to climb a mountain to understand the love he has for us
when we will never get to the top
we will never understand
it is too large
(Even if the mountains fall into the sea, his love will never fail us)

but the gospel will change them as they learn it
as they learn what it means to be loved no matter what and then to pour out the same kind of love right back onto others

oh it has just begun
and we have 10 seventh graders
who are eager and ready and willing
and I feel so blessed to walk next to them in this.

As I prayed M's eyes began to spill.
and when we were done she was so worried about looking as if she had cried

I want to tell the world that she did
because last night, the angels had a large party of praise about all of this
I am sure of it.

boot straps untied, one laying heavy on its side
the snow has evaporated now and leaves salty little crispy crystals lying about the front door

I dont sweep. I hate sweeping.

fruit lays out on the counter, I put it out right in the middle of EVERYTHING because if I dont
if I hide it behind the doors of the refridgerator it wont get eaten

I dont eat fruit. I hate eating fruits and vegetables if I have to. I like them if they are handed to me all cut up and crispy and clean but I hate the work.

yesterday there was a pair of underwear in our living room and another across the floor of the bathroom along with one black sock and another with an argyle pattern

I dont fold his socks or hang up his shirts. I hate laundry.

I thought I would keep a house a whole lot crispier than I do.
sometimes I have sheer panic when I think of someone who is calm collected and organized walks through my door
in fact I had a dream that that girl with the perfect smile, an interior decorator, walked through my door and I was screaming and having a temper tantrum and knew she never would do such a thing
and for some reason I think this dream was about my house and not about my tantrum
because I always think of myself as failing
like my life is sprawled out like a jar of pencils spilled long across a floor
I always feel like I tripping, running into cabinents and such

I like to get things done but I have ADD and I start about 437253 projects all at one time. much to my dismay

you should see that art room of mine

but, I have learned to be calmer
I have learned to not panic
not as much
to sit and write with my dog, her chin propped up against the blanket
my bed isn't even made and my dryer just beeped and I think I only started to fill the dishwasher

I DREAD CHILDREN not because I dont want them but because I know it will make all of this chaos even worse

but maybe God doesn't see it as chaos
maybe he sees it as my husband does
"we live here, Chelsea... this house is lived in, its not messy"

and so. I take my Mothers advice
for anxiety,
depression,
chaos,
unvaccumed floors,
full counter of dishes,
work
picking up those boots lying across the floor in the salt crystals,

and I say yes I will

"just, do the next thing."

E.

 I met her because a dear friend and coworker decided to move with her husband
and the baby growing inside of her
to Grand Haven
she asked me if I would take Evelyn, and I said yes
I knew to some extent what it was I was saying yes to
but I didn't know that
 
underneath most of her toenails is yellow dead skin
each one is lifted, sitting high on a pillow of it
and it is my job to carve and peel that all off and back
and file down the raw edges that jab into her shoes and rub up against the other toenails fighting for space in her shoes
it is I that
cuts away at the excess nailbed

usually she cannot feel her feet, in the years past
but recently, feeling has come back
and when I press and massage and move her feet in circles
increasing circulation,
she winces

there are places on her feet that are inflamed and swollen
red with pus or something underneath
because she took a file to it herself or cut at it with a knife

one day she pulled out a real pair of scissors and asked me to go at her mass of a callus with it
and I told her no and to put her scissors away

her laugh is never full
it is half and tired and partial
the same way that her arms move to move a piece of hair out of her face
slow and passive and crinkle- crackle-y

sometimes she is late for her appointments and so I dont fill the bowl till she checks in
sometimes she forgets her appointment all together (because of the roads, or the late night before)
or
if she comes
she waddles in and sits heavy in her seat
heavy because it takes us ever so long to get from her seated position in the chair of the waiting room
into the pedicure bowl in the back
lately she has brought a cane to help support her in her journeys
and most of the girls say "she probably shouldnt even get pedicures" or if I meantion
"I have E today," they say "shh, im trying to eat." like they couldn't if they thought of her

but it isn't fungus
she has been cleared by the nurse
and so
we continue

I wear gloves.
usually I find toenails stuck in my leggings or boots after I am done
or dead skin
and really, everytime I am done I throw out the file
just in case

After each Pedicure where we go over again how she likes her nails short and how she needs the newest of new people magazine yes the one with the date in the future and I travel all over the salon to find it, and how we discuss that the salon got rid of her favorite colors,

after each pedicure I go to the front and get her a French Vanilla coffee with exactly four creamers, and we move her load of a soul of a human into the processing room where she sometimes stays for an hour, feet up, drying, breathing, reading, drinking coffee with so much sugar in it I dont know how she handles it, and then she slowly lumbers to the front but only after a ten minute putting-her-shoes-on process and checks out.

I get the feeling that though Evelyn never married she is not lonely
she is slow and sadly content and unenthusiastic about life
she has a friend, but doesn't put boy and friend into the same word
because even though he is younger and interested in marrying E
she doesn't want to move to Flint someday

but every pedicure she tells me how he comes,
sometimes daily
to care for her lawn, or her mail, or her animals, or heaven forbid, her toenails
and I say that she needs to marry Tony and she laughs and says that since he someday will move to Flint to be with his daughter
it is out of the question
but then tells me about his pond and fish hobby
or the movie they just saw

once, days ago she was a teacher
and still takes once-a-week-travels to Muskegon where the school was
her hair is washed and shopping is done
and it exhausts her

she has pigeons or guinea foul or something like that
and horses, I think
I dont know how she manages to feed them when she can barely carry her own legs places



you know, I used to complain every time she came in and roll my eyes if she forgot to come
but them God reminded me that we are asked to rub feet
we are asked to "care take"
to be shade, and light and love and water
to get on our knees

and sometimes I remind myself that maybe E is actually an angel
a real angel
with really bad feet (to see, can I love?)

and it helps me to remember to love her well
and it was then, when that sunk in,
that she became my friend
and not just a pair of bad feet.

if you

if you want to learn to be kind, be overly kind so eventually, you are kind.

if you want to be committed, be obsessed with commitment, so eventually, you are committed.

if you want to be Godly, pursue wholeheartedly, put everything into it, and do not stop. love him with everything in you... let nothing stand in your way. turn your face like stone away from distraction. eventually, God will show you that you will never be Godly on your own, but you will want to be Godly, and that is what he wants.

if you want to be full of grace, learn to love yourself even in your flaws, forgive yourself, disobey yourself when you are doing things simply because you are doing them to find value in them or to try and "please God to make him love you", and let God love you without works (if that is the only reason you are doing them) let him fill that space, let him be enough, let yourself be flawed. And then let others be flawed and over look their flaws and give them grace. powerful words are those that go beyond the darkness, and bring light and grace. show people the grace you have received. Jesus says no matter what to you, he looks over your flaws and opens his arms everyday. dont be afraid to do this for others, it is what changes people.

if you want to be a singer, pursue song, pursue singing, dont talk about it, walk about it.

if you want to love without condition, love despite everything, tell that person no matter what, tell him again, tell her again, tell her even if you dont believe it, tell her if its the correct right thing to do, keep telling her until you mean it. eventually you will and you will wonder why you never did it before.

if you are flawed and have destroyed something and regretted it, ask for forgiveness. forgive yourself. bare the consequences of your actions and live in humility in it. Let it change you. Turn in everyway possible from your mistakes. Let them make you better. Do what you know God would ask you to do. Dont make excuses. Dont continue based on feeling. continue based on obedience to him. tell other people you are sorry. be sorry. tell the judge you are sorry. tell everyone affected you are sorry. and turn around and walk the other direction. dont just walk, run. Let other people love you and let that love bring gratitude and joy and more love in yourself. dont work for their love, let their love be a gift. we love you no matter what.

if you want to or even if you dont want to, Forgive other people. Dont let your feelings of anger stop you... say it out loud. I forgive you. say it when you are alone, say it to the person, say it to your friends even if you do not feel it. God will bring healing in his time but forgiveness and forgiving others is your choice.

if you want to stop being double minded, if you want to stop being confused, let your yes be yes and your no be no. make a decision and follow it as if it is all you know. anything besides this is confusion and confusion is not from God. When you second guess or doubt yourself, remember when you made the decision, remember if you made that decision with wisdom, remind yourself that it is the right one. preach to yourself. This will give you a clean honest life. Let your yes be yes and your no be no, anything else is evil. Jesus said that.

if you want to be sweet, be overly sweet, until you are sweet. 

2015 // if God gives me the days

1. go to israel
2. have a simple, doable, body shaping plan
3. be sweet to this man I love
4. photo project 2015// with Talitha: visit it here: photo project 2015
5. plan Yellowstone trip 2016 (for work: photo and painting inspiration)
6. plan resort trip... for someday
7. educate and train at Genesis Salon and Day spa
8. Enter Artprize for the first time
9. get a tattoo
10. begin project for church paintings
11. blog.
12. Write at least 6 chapters to completion in the book about Jana's life
13. go platinum again
14. Pray for the three men everyday. Guidance. Gospel. Godliness.
15. breathe well. rest well. work well. play well.
16. continue to be transformed by the gospel
17. gratitude.
18. Recite the two greatest commandments daily
19. train for israel
20. collect Christmas presents all year round that are meaningful so that Christmas is restful and I can concentrate on the real meaning of it
21. do all the reading for israel
22.

Jeannie in a bottle baby

J, is like lavender.
the three creases next to her mouth on both sides, water stain across her turquoise tank top and long sweater to cover up the supposed hole in the butt of her workout pants

she hops around helping Wolf play, or dressing him as hulk, or distracting him while I fishtail a piece of his hair
all for education purposes of course
there are Christmas cards dangling from rope and chili peppers hanging above her sink and linen hand towels halfhazardly shucked over counters & there is a verse sketched on chalkboard
and a tiny butter dish with an orange chicken on top & she is bashful when she talks about how kickbutt she is at running marathons and sewing and knitting and cooking and giving presents and being a mom and a wife and a sister and a friend

up and down the stairs placing Ruby in her bed, taking her out, putting her back
makes a comment about how sorry she is for the "choir you'll be hearing" when her baby starts to wale. I barely notice though, but Jean? she is aware. she apologizes.

her husband, beard untrimmed, long hair pulled back into a mun (aka. "man bun") heaps servings of pancake mix onto the stove.. two bowls, one specific for mom of the house, "gluten-free" and the other just normal

blueberry
chocolate chip
pancakes?
yes, please.

three servings of coffee? I will never deny another!

and the table is full of chatter and laughter and stories and wisdom and coffee and tiny tangerines and banana orange juice and always before you leave Jean hands you a mason jar full of her famous granola, or a soft muffin, or just happens to have a tiny bag full of gluten free peanut butter cookies or something to make you feel healthy and guilty at the same time

now do you get it? she is like lavender. 
we talk about being different things to the world, light & shade and water and
well,
 she is lavender.

connect

something I have learned in the last five years is,
not everyone has to like me.

no, Im serious, I didnt know that before.

imagine my relief.

I have spent so much of my life and my time and my energy trying to make everyone feel about me the way I thought they should, MORPHING into their every whim, attending to their every invitation, fearing when I turned my back what they would think of me.

someone told me today, " i heard she just... doesn't really connect with you." and do you know what? thats ok.

because I dont have time to connect with everyone.
i just dont.
and neither do you.

and I had to learn the hard way that even Jesus had his 3, and then also his 12, and his 12 each had their few, and so there were 72... and so on.

i eventually found myself exhausted until my friend, Tammy D, told me a practice she had learned. She made three circles. the first has three people in it. the second had 12. and the third had a certain number. and it wasn't to try to be exclusive or rude or unfriendly, it was for sanity. To remind herself who it was that God had invited her in that season to invest in. Who had he called her to love? who had he called her to call family?

and then you love furiously. you love them well. you do your best. you dont exhaust yourself or feel the need to connect with everyone and their mom and their moms sister who knows a guy who has an aunt who owns a jelly donut shop... you are a human being with only so much to give and offer and if you give and offer you want to give well and large and long and wide and reflect Christs love

you
you know your capacity

i thought I was an extrovert, SNORT
THAT WAS A JOKE

I learned finally from exhaustion how much I loved to be alone
and i have since learned

and i have found so much health in surrounding myself with my few, and then my few, and then my crowd. its a warm cozy home and because Jesus is enough for me its now ok when someone "doesn't really connect with me" because

they dont have to.

M.

I

yank out the sweet young girl i foil
large blue eyes that hold so many feelings thoughts ideas dreams

and when she talks about him, him who lives nearby
him who loves the redskins
her eyes giggle
if they had a noise, it'd be this.

she is accustomed to a language without noise
an empty apartment
cats
the civic theater with fingers moving rapidly to keep up and people read
her hands
fighting Grand Valley single handed to continue a program she believes in without sharing exactly how she thinks and feels but I think she must think them deaf

she has become a friend, I feel I know her
past the dark red Redken lolites that used to be brown and golden not white hilites and the toner that sets it and new found layers after a year of blunt cuts

today i curled your hair and hugged you as you left and I could tell
you felt pretty
and our interaction
had brought you joy

"i like hair day" you exclaimed at the shampoo bowl
and it made my eyes giggle.

Rowsters Series: something I wrote but never posted...

its a series Im dedicating to my Dad--who, amongst other things like a flat chest and long torso--gave me a passion for adventure, travel, and a love for God.

He, next to my hippie (very hip) mother was the one who introduced me at a young age to the battlefields of Gettysburg and the gravestones of New England marking the life and death of leaders of our past;

mountains of
Colorado

wide open sky of
Montana

Yosemite and its Mighty Neck

Bison of the Dakotas

from there I traveled the world, much to my Fathers dismay.

Did you know, Dad? I always thought you were hardcore
you skied in jeans with minimal layering and almost died in a flood in Estes Park
what more could a daughter want in a Father
a Father passionate about jazz, beer, prayer

God.

i believe it is the things we view as bigger than us that make us passionate
they make us chase
keep us going

and also, places that take the breath out of us.

These images, these paintings are a symbol of that
and I pray you find the same thing greater than yourself that I have found that will make you chase, turn back from bad decisions, thirsty for beauty

like I have.