18th of November 2012
BEING…PREPARED
Just finished my Thanksgiving menu. The recipes chosen and printed, the shopping list created. I am prepared for my annual cooking day.
It’s true, I’m slightly embarrassed to say, I don’t cook.
Please don’t misunderstand. I love caring for people and providing for them. Food just isn’t that important to me, but I’ve always loved cooking on Thanksgiving. I give thanks daily, but this is a celebration. I’m ready for a celebration.
There has been much loss. Hurricane Sandy. What else can you say? The further you are from the literal center of the storm, the more insulated you are from the stories. We live close. We got hit. There are countless stories.
After a while, there are too many words. We’ve had words; before, during into up-to-the-minute aftermath of this storm. We had similar words in days past that didn’t prove out. Those with responsibilities to do something set to doing it to the best of their ability. We fund-raised, donated and prayed. We came together.
I was due to be home in Maine the night this was recorded. I miss my family terribly and have been very concerned with matters there. On November 9, I thought of the people in my world and learned that while my heart belongs in Maine, it has made a home in New Jersey. Sandy made me a Jersey Girl. There was no way to leave.
So please forgive one of my favorite Jersey Guys for being a little wordy, it happens - but listen to these words - they are important words, about moving forward, about Doing and Being. Words that once again remind us “do whatever you can, however small”. Then close your eyes and bask in familiar words that form a definition of the heartbeat here. Not the just the techno beat you’ve heard of, but the rhythm of a strong, resilient Jerseystrong heart that could, in a flash, explode with feeling, shed a tear and then set to rebuild. A heart that I grew here and for which I am profoundly thankful.
Happy Thanksgiving,
<3
A Jersey Girl
31st of July 2012
Its been quite a week….I always call Vacation Bible School my Superbowl, and just like after anyone’s else’s Superbowl, I’m a little weary, really happy and my house is a mess.
5 mornings, 75 kids, 1 great closing program and over 50 members of staff…my beloved Purple shirts. I would’ve been stranded on Promise Island without my purple shirts.
In case you’re unaware, our vacation bible school volunteers come from all over our community and beyond to not only give up their time, talent and sweat. They also take a hit to the inner fashionista to wear a bright purple shirt emblazoned with our church’s vbs logo. We’ve been a purple shirted VBS as long as I know us to be VBS church.
It’s a challenge to procure each year’s supply of purple shirts, and I only ever order 15 at a time. It never seems like enough, but like loaves and fishes, there’s no one without when it counts.
After about 12 years of VBS, this was the year that I got that veteran teacher feeling. Each day I saw kids I had taught, with kids of their own. A few years ago we tried to institute a guideline that youth leaders be at least in 7th grade. The reasoning being that they would take a break from the program and come back to teach. This year, we made some exceptions for a few kids who grew up to be program vets themselves with a strong desire to join the staff. When one young lady came in to help decorate the craft room before the week began, I presented her with her shirt and was kind of touched when she enthusiastically grabbed at it and said “Yessss…” under her breath.
I should’ve had an idea…when I sat with my successor as youth leader in the pre-planning stage, I passed her shirt across the table. I laughed when she excitedly said, “Finally…I see the kids in theirs all the time. Now I have one too!”
And finally, it’s the only T-shirt I’ve ever seen some of our elder church members wear.
Occasionally due to change of size, change of location, or saddest of all, change of heart…there are times when someone comes to return a purple shirt. My first thought is always, “Are you Sure?, Don’t you wanna keep it - just in case?” I hate to see anyone miss the opportunity.
On the one rainy day we had this past week it occurred to me to tell the staff that it didn’t matter what job you were doing, what mattered was the heart you were doing it with. We weren’t there to play with little kids or because we hadn’t been down a slip & slide in a while. VBS is the week our church throws open the doors, calls the community inside and gets so very happy about Jesus. Everything we do has to do with Him. He truly is with the first of us. right down to the last of us. He fills very heart and make them joyful, faithful.
I’ve often been asked, “What is it about VBS…? What about it makes it so popular, gets so many volunteers, attracts so many teens and young families?” I would typically respond with reasons like legacy, group effort and short – term covenant. But maybe I was wrong…
Could it be the shirt?!?!
To be honest, I felt like a bit of an imposter putting my purple shirt on for the Staff Commissioning Service. VBS was going to arrive the next day and I was deep in prayer over all that still had to be done.
I was still deep in that prayer Monday. Next thing I knew, families were registering, Moms were leaving, Kids were crying, the kindergarten teacher was comforting, the first grade leader was introducing herself to people and music was starting ‘cuz our song leader was singing…VBS had started. Then it was my turn. It was time for opening prayer and I had to pray - out loud.
It was clear then. It wasn’t the shirts. It was what we filled them with. Souls and hearts that loved those kids the way we’d been loved by Jesus, arms that held and comforted because we had been held and comforted, patience and understanding because we knew a peace beyond it all.
So we told them.
He promises…
He is with you
He cares for you
He gives you what you need
He’ll save you
He’ll answer you.
…He promises.
But I also found he holds us accountable.
On the second day I got a call from a parent. I dread a call from a parent during VBS. One of our oldest students, went home upset because she saw kids she had formerly been in class with wearing purple shirts. Her mom was overwhelmed and asked me to help diffuse the situation. I explained that I had made an exception for long time students who caught me in weak moments and that I would talk to her child. My feeling was that it was the student’s responsibility to express her desire to be on the staff. We then talked about raising tween girls and what a summer it had been. When I talked to the student she was more than happy to help out in class and set a good example for her fellow students. Mom and daughter stopped Friday afternoon before leaving to say thank you and bye. We hugged and they moved to the door. I looked down at my mess of a desk and to my left was the bag of leftover purple shirts. I called the girl’s name and when she turned I held one out.
You should’ve seen her face…
and then her mom’s face.
See, they still believe in the power of the shirt.
Over the last 12 summers I know its so much more. There is a power. A power of love, patience and acceptance, a power that make us believe and be brave enough to try something new or silly, the power to speak about a faith that moves mountains and sings out in despair and cries out in joy, the power that takes an ordinary little church and turns it into a place full of enthusiastic proclaimers of the love and joy of Jesus Christ.
It’s the power of God wrapped in purple cotton.
It’s not the shirt - it’s the heart filled with Christ’s love that beats within the shirt.
Amen.
19th of June 2012
souvenirsfromtherabbithole:
I write a lot about manhood. It’s not because I think I am the prime example of all that is masculine, but it’s because I know a little about how we are supposed to be and and work very hard to live up to my own creation. As hard as I work, I find myself distressed by the sheer lack I see around…
6th of June 2012
this is big…<3
you amazing beautiful complicated creature.
i know it hurts to have something you love ripped away. in my experience the only reasonable choice is to explore whats left. Gather the lessons and move with the knowledge within and make life productive.
It all goes so fast and as time passes it picks up speed. Imagine the blur. Times 10.
you are loved. know that. you are not your place, occupation or love life. you’re a soul on the verge of discovery. bursting with creativity, talent, love and curiosity. feel all of it, as numbing will wear off painful quick and the sad will still justifiably be there, along with the anger, hurt, shame and lonely, but there will always be real serious love and that trumps all.
home is not a surrender. it is respite, healing and productivity. there is care. new chapters are to begin and much reorganizing and building have to be done. it requires more than a solo effort to redirect the life of a family. those you love and love you are welcome here as long as there is honor, respect and accountability. home is balance. home is moderation. home is stable. you are more than welcome here, you’re needed and wanted.
i respect your rhythm and what you’ve created. but every healthy creation requires maintenance, like a plant needs pruning. cutting away the dead and dried to allow new growth. keep what is truly good and fruitful. nurture it, give it fresh clear air and space. no more drowning and smothering. i pray that you give yourself a life to set to that rhythm. Room to dance in the joyous present, that glorious now. and then have the memories of it to sprinkle all over the next day.
there is no need to be alone. the legions here are at the ready to support, guide and walk along side you. there is no judgement but there is a solid clear vision of who we love and how much we miss her. this isn’t a hand up as much as a well employed net that was there all the time, someone in each corner, pulling tight.
you’re not judged on the fall but on your ability to rise again.
Up and at ‘em Atom Ant.
15th of April 2012
RIP Dear One.
It seems as though there has been much loss of late.
I’ve spent the this past week and a half mourning an old friend. If I’m honest, the grieving was more about honoring the relationship we once had and the two recent, too brief interactions we’ve had in the last six months, I thought we’d have so much more time.
In the 30 year span I’ve been a supporter of the musicians, a part time singer and a very hands off stage mom. This weekend I found that many of us mourning had the same story. Our songs were different, venues varied, but music, art and love play big parts in our lives. While some found it difficult to listen to music in their grief, its always been a source of solace for me. It is my comfort, my emotion and my strength and joy. It is my worship.
Amid the stories and remembrances, a charge was sounded.
Go make music with all you have left.
There is much transition in life. Decisions get made in crossroad moments. I think I’d like to get out of the road for a bit, jump off the highway and lay in cool grass and feel what’s like to be me. It’s not that I don’t love the dear ones I’ve shared journey with. On the contrary, I love them so much that my vision is enmeshed with theirs. Their joy is my joy, they’re a huge part of mine. We complete each others stories, food and sentences. They are every piece of my broken heart.
The repair process will be a solitary one for me. I will be working hard to build good things. I will reach out and care for those I love and will try to be receptive in return. There will be much stretching and I need more room. I won’t carry much therefore I will be giving up a lot.
I’m going to find what music I have left and then I plan to turn up the volume and tear off the knob. The soundtrack of my life is about to get loud.
Rest well Scott. </3
1st of March 2012
I leapt…and fell.
Ironically, the day started like any other…kisses goodbye, off in a New England winter to work for the day.
Even in the days before cell phones, we talked a few times during a busy day. I was working the day shift and looking forward to you making dinner. I couldn’t wait to get home.
I was atop a ladder in the front corner of the store when Sonny Jo White broadcast to me and the whole store, “Today’s the day Ladies! You gotta man you want? Pop the question today before you lose your chance!”. Something in me was so sure. There was no doubt about what I was going to do.
Of course that was all the universe needed to hear. Work got crazy, people got sick, others ran late. As manager on duty, I had to stay later than expected. You let me know you had dinner waiting and I got there as soon as I could. All the way home I just prayed you wouldn’t laugh in my face. We had talked about marriage and you weren’t sure. I didn’t want to push, but if it was on KISS 108 it had to be true…right? Today was the day.
I walked in to the most beautiful table our little house could hold. I apologized while I squished through the pocket door to our bedroom telling you I just wanted to change into a dress. I’d only be a second.
I came out and sat across the table. I couldn’t wait. I had loved you from the first. I remember asking if you knew what today was. You spoke of Leap Year and I explained Sadie Hawkins Day. The day when a woman could ask a man to marry her and so I was asking, “Would you marry me?”
You fixed me with your blue eyes for a split second before dropping them and shaking your head. My stomach clenched and my heart seized. You looked back at me and said, “You’ve done it to me again…” Then you reached down and came up with a ring. The story tumbled out from there, yours and Steve’s conversation, the shopping for the ring, then the dinner and the late homecoming…you didn’t laugh at me, we laughed together.
We called family after that. Sitting close, sharing the phone, starting to plan a wedding that took place one day less than six months later. To this day its still the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever attended.
When we had been married eight years we laughed with our daughters about the second anniversary of our engagement. That we only got to celebrate a story so cool once every four years seemed to make it even cooler. Anyone who heard it in the meantime was charmed. I so loved our story.
It was important to write it today because in another four years it may not matter anymore. You’ve started your story anew and I’ve wept through this telling. There has been a machine gun blast of news that has blown holes in my soul of late. There have been other painful days of note but this feels like the last one. While I waited for today to end, I prayed there would be peace. I’m not sure there is but I’m grateful for the proposed respite.
Today is a new day. Time to breathe deep.
30th of January 2012
Its the last hour of a day that didn’t have to happen.
I spent this day, driving to the edge, looping around and taking the long way back
mainly because I was afraid to stop driving.
I sense a theme.
When I did stop I learned about real love, boundaries and me.
I have a lot to learn.
Part Two begins tomorrow.
This is gonna take a while.
Still wish today didn’t happen. </3
29th of January 2012
back to work today - hittin the road tomorrow
its all just too much </3
20th of January 2012
midnightatthematinee:
so here it is:
i’m scared of the way you make me feel. i’m indecisive of what exactly i want because i’ve already given my heart away once and it was crushed. i’m fragile. i’m easily broken. honest, i spread myself too thin and what i have left isn’t exactly much. not because that other person…
10th of January 2012
Once upon at time…
…I wrote a book for Princesses and some of the feedback was out of concern for the princes out there. I get it. They are integral to every part of the princesses story to a degree.
I will maintain that we ladies have to be strong and resolute in our beliefs and needs, we must lead and love by example and that The Common Good must be attended to. I thought all of this would inspire worthy men to lives of independent journey toward true love with women who could walk in step with them and they would continue together on an exploration of the life their maker intended for them both.
I still have hope that it will.
The kingdom of romance has taken a serious beating of late. Celebritarts of both sexes seem to be working overtime to make a mockery of everything I hold dear to heart. From prospective parenting to marriage itself, things that are sacred have been held up as scam and fodder for nothing better than reality television. Because I want nothing more than to believe, I have tried to find the love in these faux fables; news shows, entertainment outlets and supermarket rags do nothing but extend the path from rabbit hole to hell, blame falling all over each side and the path covered with emotional shrapnel, blocking the way.
All that being said…
The responsibility for a life well lived relies on both parties. No one does it alone. All that comes with the strength of In Love requires us to see and work for the good in each other. I won’t believe there are some who awake, with every intent to injure. I can barely exist believing everyone is doing their best to help the world turn smoothly. That I translate it all into a Fisher King belief system of Princesses and Knights who fight evil merely for the sake of the Greater Good and each other is less fool’s theory than survivalist’s code. While it doesn’t always keep me safe, it keeps me believing.
I’ve lost magic along with trust. I’ll spend this year replenishing my storeholds. Finding beauty through my eyes, in my way. It’s about re-routing and I’m trusting Him to guide the way. He’s been on the shoulder through this journey and I have no reason to believe He’ll forsake me now. I got stuck at the crossroads, but I have no intention of missing the King for a Prince.
