The Diary of a College Kid

If we forget our past..

2010-07-05T13:49:00.000-07:00

... we lose sight of our future. The pieces that made us who we are are the very same pieces that God will use to create a masterpiece. If we overlook shattered glass we deny our Creator's ability to create a mosaic. There is always beauty in the broken if you are willing to wait for the Artist's hand.

Whispers.

2010-02-20T20:20:00.001-08:00

Burst.

Like the ocean, in a jar.

I shall burst forth -

As sunlight through silt,

I shall hang suspended.

As in an hourglass;

The sand falls.

The bottom of the jar,

Covered in dreams.

And though, you hold me.

Tightly grasped in fists.

Like the ocean, in a mason jar-

I shall burst forth.

Copyright Shandi Bleiken 2010

I find myself drawn to the trees again. It reminds me of my childhood, and the whispers I learned to hear. I always admired trees. For they seemed to withstand the greatest treacheries nature could hurl at them, while still reaching for the sun. I would wish for that, that strength and singularity of mind. The stamina in spite of hardship. I would climb into the cradling arms of my favourite tree and stare into the sky. "God", I would whisper, "please let me grow towards the sun."

I find myself again, admiring the trees. For they seem to withstand the distractions and frivolities around them. They seem preoccupied with only one thing, growing. Growing towards the sunlight. Wind. Rain. Sleet. Thunder. They reach their delicate branches high.

I have to smile when I think about it, the ways in which the very world around me sings of hope and perseverance. Even the trees know what I so often do not. For those who grow towards the son, there is always hope.

Joyful.

2010-02-19T07:00:00.000-08:00

I have begun to explore the world of words once again.

Cadence.

I missed the cadence of reality hitting truth;

Shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

Each shard, a word on my page.

I started to breathe again,

Fingers starting to move.

Going from pale to the faint hues of conscious,

Fire spreading from my soul to my ears;

So that every phrase I heard -

Spun around me until it landed,

Softer than a butterfly on my pen.

Whispering, "write you fool,

before the moment passes

and the magic is undone, write."

Reveling in the fact that I

am once again awash in words;

In a world where everything sparkles with mystery.

Copyright Shandi Bleiken 2010

Another matter of minor importance, as of Saturday I am engaged to the love of my life. Pictures and the full story soon to follow. =)

Rekindle

2010-02-07T18:59:00.000-08:00

I think of the forest, and the way the trees whisper soft. My eyes fall to the cement beneath my shoes and I dream of a mossy barefoot path. The cry within me whimpers. The cry within me groans. “Father I have lost myself.” “Father where am I?” “Father please find me.”

I have not written since August.

Here for the first time the world is my world. A place where my dreams, my actions and my decisions frame each movement, it feels hollow. There is so much good here, so much for me to learn, so much for me to become. Still I have lost myself in the midst of it all. In the midst of the deadlines, the schedules, and the homework I forgot myself.

I forgot my words.

The cry within me whispers. “Father please use me.”

I smile quietly, for even in this place of bricks and steel. Even here, a flower can grow. I can grow.

Peace.

His eyes are the shadows

Quiet pines stand beside me

Defender from the darkness

I melt into the shadows

His eyes become my own

Reflections.

2010-01-15T07:18:00.001-08:00

My memories mirror me. Have I changed? Or was that flicker of light only fanned into a fire?

August 13th, 2006

Dreamer. The one who no one knows. Filled with melodies yet to be played. You are hidden in plain sight. A mystery unfathomable. So beautiful, the grace in your ways like the breeze playing with the smallest roses.
Dreamer. You hoped until it all ran dry. And now, you don't even know if you dream any longer. But I can see them in your eyes. Do not be mistaken, the fire burnt away the torn cloth. Shimmering gold is here to see now.
Words cannot express you. For you are so much more then even you can ever know... yet. But one day you will see. You bring hope to those who have none. How... how can that be possible? Because there is the glimmer of a Savior in you dreamer. And you are beautiful beyond belief.

Is it strange to look back at my fifteen year old self and realize that five years ago I contained a deeper understanding of hope than I do now? How this reality has sought to mar my vision. My younger eyes saw only God, let my older eyes find that again.

I haven't posted in awhile.

2009-10-11T00:55:00.001-07:00

The above title is what one could easily refer to as a gross understatement. Of course this is all slightly ambiguous, and as I have learned over and over in my altogether short University experience thus far... I must assert myself. I am an opinionated being and pussy footing around simply isn't attractive. Or so I've been told.

That having been said, I am up at 3am on a saturday contemplating nothing and everything at the same time. I agree, I should be sleeping. I'm not though.. so I may as well revive my dying blog.

Hello world. I am back.. and I have new love(s).

Research.

Libraries.

Matthew Henry Bible commentaries.

Espresso.

Umbrellas.

Free food.

Free tshirts.

Sharpies.

The list is endless...

I think I will sleep now. More later.

Always yours,

Shandi

2009-07-30T21:23:00.000-07:00

"Ocean's Smile"

The clouds are trying to drown themselves,

Each wave whispered, falling forward,

Falling, falling, always falling,

The ocean crooned with no horizon.

The sand is trying to fly away,

Each footstep sang itself to sleep,

Sleeping, sleeping, resting always,

The ocean danced without a border.

A Siren’s call will woo my lover,

The melody of time and silence,

Quiet, quiet, all is screaming,

The ocean smiles and dives beneath me.

Deep within my heart is beating,

The secret smile still unhidden,

My love, my love, it is a Siren,

The ocean laughs and pulls us under.

Copyright Shandi Bleiken 2009

To truly see.

2009-07-29T20:42:00.000-07:00

I sat today, far above my beautiful town.. and I stared. I took in the the mountains poking their pointy heads through the clouds. I marveled at the way the lake sparkled in "my" little valley. My father and I identified landmarks, houses, imagined making islands .. I laughed and reminisced about the time since we've moved to this haven. Yet so far beyond the beauty was the awe I felt at perspective..

How different my small world looked from above. Each line making its way into a tapestry. "It looks just like the pictures", I whispered as if this were some sort of breakthrough.

I suppose the metaphor I drew from something that I simply should have enjoyed.. was this..

In the midst of my pain, the mundane and seeming futility of my life, I forget that from above everything works together so beautifully, that from above... there is a different view, a broader swath of time.. of hope.. from above my problems are not larger than the grace that surrounds me.

The past month has battered me, there was death, pain, I struggled with understanding so many things... I asked God why, over and over and over... until I realized that looking straight into the sun was only holding the dirt against my eyes leaving me blind.. I needed to drop my head and let it fall, fall with my tears until I could see the flowers rising out of the ashes.

So I have begun to write again..

The dust that mars my eyes, it will not fall

For my head is uplifted, my mouth screams “why”

Fall my soul, and break the neck that strains to bending

Fail my heart, and drag my face towards the ground

Open eyes, slip dust, slip back to your home

Amongst the little stones and ashes

Fly dust, downwards from the eyes

The eyes that now have freed their trembling

See now clearly, as the smallest bud arises

From the dust, from the ground

Even in dying there is life

Even in sorrow, there is hope

Copyright Shandi Bleiken 2009

Whisper to me of the sparrows

While the scent of morning’s hope

Caresses

With sun’s fingers, and wind’s name

Whisper to me of the sparrows

While dusk creeps on silent feet

Dancing

With moon’s laughter, and star’s light

Whisper to me of the sparrows

While wisdom waits with open arms

Smiling

With His eyes, with His sight

Copyright Shandi Bleiken 2009

2009-07-22T23:59:00.000-07:00

"My Life"

My life is like a butterfly

And I in its cocoon

Awaiting danger, lifted wings

The colour of the moon

For deep within these darkened halls

As sadness makes me strong

I whisper soft to learn my voice

One day to sing my song

My life is like a butterfly

An I unwilling wait

Desperation for the air

Though it will, my life, for certain take

For waves of light have graced my eyes

I journey with no sound

To land where time and grace stand still

On Heaven’s sacred ground

My life is like a butterfly

And I the growing wings

Hidden fast within the womb

Of hope in broken things

Each day I learn with blinded eyes

How unseeing I can see

So when at last the veil’s cleared

No doubt will rest in me.

Copyright Shandi Bleiken 2009

Summer muse.

2009-06-07T12:21:00.000-07:00

I sit listening to jazz dance in the summer air. A row of black socks hang outside, selfishly obstructing my view of cedar trees and mountains. This is the start of summer. I just heard an interview on the radio with the Literary critic James Wood. Of course his British accent had me enamoured, yet as I listened to a man heralded as perhaps today’s greatest critic I realized that I haven’t lost my complete and utter passion for literature. Words, the way in which they fall across a page, stories, the profound, the thought provoking. I have to smile.

The past few months have been a whirlwind of working, having dreams crushed, applying to a new school, being told that I don’t have the proper requirements to be accepted, trying to fulfill those requirements while working, reading my high school transcripts and feeling a sense of strange disconnect at the long lines of “A” ’s. I learn because learning is beautiful. I never really paid attention to a grade unless it was below a “B” in which case I had to push it up. (That rarely happened, so I was usually clueless as to what exactly my specific grades were.) Yet as my dreams have been scattered and patched up repeatedly I’ve felt a sense of sadness, deflation. What is the use of dreaming? Perhaps education is not for me, maybe I am meant to be a gypsy.

The fatalistic demands and specific requirements to allow me into a post secondary education made me forget why I even wanted an education in the first place. Hearing someone whose life is absorbed in absorbing words made me remember exactly how passionate I am about reading and writing.

Plans are becoming meaningless. What will be will be, the only choice I have is to trust my Heavenly Father and smile through the rain. Today is meant to be savoured. Here’s to smiling because we can.

Much love,
Shandi

It's the climb..

2009-05-31T13:42:00.000-07:00

I have a Valedictorian’s speech to write. I admit feeling slightly intimidated by this. There is also the residual amusement at the irony of my situation, when I finally face my past and realize I hold little faith in anything (let alone myself), I am given a great honour to inspire, by reflecting on my own journey through high school.

I admit, I have always been something of a teacher’s pet, not because I have always sought to please, believe me there have been countless essays I’ve written with carefully controlled frustration penning the idiocy of the way education is approached in general. It is more the fact that I approach learning hungrily, with a passion. I like doing things my own ways, with my own topics and stories. In spite of the fact I know my constant requests to learn “my” way must have been infuriating I somehow managed to charm each teacher with my willingness to pour my soul into everything I did.

My grad song is ‘The Climb’ by Miley Cyrus. It makes me smile; “ain’t about how fast I get there, ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side, it’s the climb”. I feel reflective lately. It must come with the fact I have one foot out the door with dreams in sight.

I often use my past as an excuse not to trust God and the people I love. “I’ve gotten hurt.” I somehow manage to overlook every moment of grace, every way in which I was kept from a darker hour. Well that is until some unknowing bystander asks me a very simple question. “Why are you in love with a guy in Texas?” I have to laugh. I am a storyteller at heart, and my own love story is already incredibly bizarre without need for embellishment, so I adore telling it.

It doesn’t start happily though, it starts at one of the worst points in my life... and yet I smile when I relate it.. and then I realize.

I have been given so much more than I deserve.

Who am I to use my past as a weapon? When I look back, oh without a doubt there are tears, but those tears turned to laughter. Will I choose to look behind me and see the threads of grace and forgiveness that brought me to a place where I am loved and allowed to heal?

There is so much to live for. There is a hope that can reach past every clouded judgement and moment of temptation.

The Lord our God is one God.

Much love,
Shandi

Be always mindful.

2009-05-29T12:30:00.000-07:00

I will never really know all those whom my words have touched. Today I live to breathe, as odd as that may sound. How many of us live to breathe? We wake up in the morning cursing our jobs (I've been known too), worrying instantly about all the things that MUST be worried about (again, guilty), mentally arranging every responsibility in order of importance (not necessarily bad, but for the purposes of this pointless ramble I am one again guilty). Why don't we wake up in the morning take a deep breathe and think to ourselves, "I'm here, I have a reason, I am loved by God". Can you possibly imagine how much easier life would be.

For instance, all the angry people demanding their morning coffee addiction wouldn't glare at me with eyes of death (hence the reason I curse my job). I've learned never to get between someone and their coffee, honestly, don't try.

Yet, this morning I live to breathe.. why, because I am incapacitated by illness. Feverish and lightheaded, wishing I was ever so much better so I could begin racing around worrying myself to death. Why do I need to get sick to be thankful to wake up in the morning?

As of late I have realized something. I need to face many things within myself. I won't be arrogant enough to say that I understand what Job suffered, but I am in my own small way at the place in Job where God rushes in and begins explaining in exquisite detail how little I actually know. I am far from perfect and for that reason I am inserting a portion of an email I wrote this morning. May it touch you the way writing it forced me to look at myself with honesty.

You said you wondered if I even knew how to trust.. and that bothered me.. but I, I don't really know. There have been times in the past when I have trusted. I need to realize that. Life is not a vacuum, there are days of struggle and days of joy. Yet, I do realize that I carry wounds inside that influence everything I do, wounds that need dramatic healing. I want it fast, I want it right now, I don't want to trust God as I fumble around in the dark slowly approaching the light... I need to though.
I need to be broken. I need to need help. I can be very needy, but even that neediness has nothing to do with actually accepting help. It's more about proving to myself I can get whatever I want on my own terms... now I must learn what it means to be nothing, to truly need help, to drop my ridiculous arrogance and accept the hand that reaches out to me.
I miss God. I miss the intimacy, the childish joy, the romance. I'm stubborn, I want God to woo me, to beg me to return to Him.. it hurts my pride to come before Him empty handed and destroyed; admitting that I am absolutely nothing and don't deserve His grace. I want to scream that I do in fact deserve a free ride because He hurt me, He caused this. I resent every time something bad happens because somewhere in my head I believe that I should get some sort
of compensation for what I suffered. Aren't children innocent? I challenge God, daring Him to make me trust Him, bring good into my life.. and maybe if I feel like it I might trust Him occasionally. It isn't just about the fear of getting hurt, it's my anger, my need to lash out. I want Him to know how it feels to be abandoned. As if He somehow needs me, as if He in some way could not survive
without me.

2009-05-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

I have finally become everything I never thought I would be. Disorganized, madly in love, going into the future with no real plan, taking risks, revealing myself, laughing, growing angry and then instead of silently pretending my anger doesn’t exist, pouring it out with fire... letting it go, and realizing that there is in fact sanity to be had.

I suppose I have to laugh when I rewind four years, eight years or even ten. To think of the quiet serious girl to whom maturity and propriety meant everything. I see myself now and know that the child whose eyes I used to gaze from would look down on what I have become. Something untamed and crazy, a woman not completely sweet and innocent, but a woman willing to sacrifice it all for those she loves. A woman slowly learning to embrace submission with open arms.

I have discovered my own arrogance. I have come face to face with the deep anger I held towards God, and I have felt the tears pour down my face as I realized I caused my own pain. He never left.

I am more helpless than I have ever been, yet, in that very helplessness I find my smile comes more easily. So I smile because I can, because my Creator is beautiful, because I am His.

2009-05-02T20:28:00.000-07:00

"If He Is In Us"

Life is our minefield, will we choose to stand or stumble?

Hope is our alibi, the very breath that lifts the darkness.

War is our remainder, shall we leave behind our demons?

Love is our survivor, a child smiling through the ashes.

2009-04-20T17:40:00.000-07:00

"Father."
I have lost myself, and only you can find me...

Father, I have fallen.
It was you I used to run, with fingers full of pebbles.
Ours was the laughter bubbling from the fountain.
In our eyes the little sparrows hid.
For ours was the gaze of safety and love.

Father, I have left you.
It was for you I used to dance as dawn was breaking.
Ours were the voices echoing in song.
On our tongues the fawns and does found peace.
For ours was the song of harmony and grace.

Father, do you want me.
It was your gift to me that I so freely scattered.
My hands selfishly weaving a new gown of love.
My hands creating mayhem and misery.

Father, you will find me.
Even as I tremble you are searching.
Your hands will softly bathe and heal me.
Yours the hands of my creator.

Copyright Shandi B. 2009

2009-04-16T17:26:00.000-07:00

"We fall."

She sits in quiet contemplation;

Can you sense the hesitation, oh, oh.

The way she’ll sit and think for hours;

The way she’d rather bring you flowers -

She’s your pocketful of sunshine;

And all she asks is that you hold her.

She’s your fistful of pixie dust;

She loves the quiet way you scold her.

This is how we fall in love -

In silences and clouded memories.

This is how we fall in love -

The promises we break to keep.

Yes, this is how, we, fall in love.

Sometimes.

2009-04-15T17:14:00.000-07:00

I sometimes wonder, as I stare into nothingness..

Does nothing really exist?

For even the thought of nothing is in itself something.

I sometimes wonder, while I listen to the wind whisper.

Are we really so great as we feel?

For even the wind without beauty or understandable voice can bring us to our knees.

I sometimes wonder.

Do I hide from who I am?

Yet even as I ask, I laugh and realize that I am not stagnant or unchanging. To accept and embrace what God has made me to be is to realize that what I was a year ago is not who I am now.. and that is okay.

So after all the questions, I smile.

For the questions themselves guide my eyes to the One who will keep me in perfect peace.

2009-04-13T14:07:00.000-07:00

"Beginnings"

He tasted like stardust in the middle of desert
And she was only a lonely girl with nothing to offer
While her words danced on pursed lips
He taught her how it was to fly away from it all

Her whispers made her Aphrodite
And he was only a silent boy with nothing to give her
While passions raged beneath his eyelids
She taught him how it was to never see it all

They were simple, until interlocking
Their hearts created a growing flame
He said there had never been anyone like her
She said it was he who had made her beautiful

Because love is more than that...

2009-04-05T14:44:00.000-07:00

I went three hundred and forty-nine days without his face.

I went three hundred and forty-nine days without his laughter.

I went three hundred and forty-nine days without the love in his eyes.

It was still there.

Because love is more than holding hands or a shared smile.

Because love is more than how we feel on Mondays and Fridays.

Because love is a decision that can stretch over miles and years and never break.

Ever.

Because God is love, and when His hand is upon you, no power, nor principality can beat you down.

That’s love.

2009-03-08T12:11:00.001-07:00

"My cry"

As plans fail me I will live to love
And as the world crumbles I will live to love
When their eyes speak my death I will die for love
Everything that matters was made in love

My love will not be broken by bruises or pain
My love will never overlook the evil or the rain
The love within will reveal the darkness in the night
My love will not stumble; my love will learn to fight

Love will lead me onward through each impending storm
Love will gently hold me when my body’s weak and worn
Love will be my answer when the question has no words
Love is every moment that is taken on this earth

True hope.

2009-02-27T10:16:00.000-08:00

For those who give though their hands are yet empty..

“I don’t sleep anymore.”
And yet she said it so conversationally that I could hardly find wrong in it.
“I’ve come to despise myself.”
Her voice eased with such grace that each word seemed a gift for the world.
“My body shakes and no one holds me.”
I felt a sense of mourning; the sorrow flickered in her eyes, yet only for an instant.
“Do you sleep well?”
The caress of her caring visage washed over my soul.
“Come, tell me all. I can try to ease your burdens.”
I found my mouth began to speak, her every nod pulling the words like a magician’s string.
“Shhh, shhh, my darling. All will be well. I would die to make it so.”
Safety wrapped around me and I melted into its depths, still something lingered.
“I will sing you to sleep, every night until your nightmares are gone.”
Through heavy lids I watched her lips move, it was then I saw the darkness beneath her eyes.
“Sleep in peace my dove.”
Her hands were shaking and would not stop.

Muse.

2009-02-25T11:48:00.001-08:00

I find myself generally unimpressed with life lately. The ideals imposed by society don’t seem to fit with any form of logic or emotion. The world is on the brink of something worse than the great depression and all I can do is stare in bewilderment. North America lives in its own head. In reality all the money moving around is simply an idea, something we assign to a certain object.. so how can a rock be worth three dollars one day and six hundred the next? Did it suddenly change? No. We changed, our minds. Morals and money, are always swinging back and forth depending on our moods, what we ate for lunch.

I realize that I am generalizing; there is logic in how our society is laid out. Yet... as I think, think of how I am going to school for a career, a career where I will work for money to survive, I feel this incredible urge to drain my bank account, get a one way ticket to south America and go help the less fortunate.

It is my faith that keeps me going. The knowledge that there is purpose beyond the mundane I see. Yet perhaps it is my faith that is supposed to make me crazy. What is really wrong about throwing “everything” away to give my life helping those in need? What is “everything” anyways? I’ve seen opulence, the good life. It doesn’t appeal to me.

Give me dirt packed streets. Forty different radios playing their songs loudly, trying to compete with the other. Beautiful little brown feet kicking a soccer ball in the midst of a busy market. The cries of vendors selling their wares, and the realization that I can truly change someone’s life. Still, something in me says that to do that would be my safe way out.. I am a gypsy. Nothing terrifies me more than entering a world of boxes. Perhaps I am meant to affect a world of boxes. So I walk on.

The right question.

2009-02-15T15:44:00.001-08:00

Why are you fading, oh my soul? What has changed within your world that causes you to crumble so easily? Why does my generation suddenly declare with passion their hatred of the world, as if something has changed? Have we not been warned? For did not Christ warn of the agony of an earth groaning with birth pains.

Why do you fear, oh my heart? What has changed, have you not grown stronger through it all? How can this be any different? You beat, you breathe, and you don’t give in.

We’re so powerless. When did that change? We’ve always been powerless.

The world is crying, our society is falling apart, and we scream for it to end. For it to go back to what it was before, as if what we had before was worth grasping. So now it’s obvious that we’re helpless. We’ve always been helpless.

I can close my eyes and swear I won’t look. I can face the coming years with trembling. Asking, “How could anyone survive”? Oh foolish woman that I am. What keeps me from seeing the beauty in the weakness? God hasn’t changed. His grace still covers my sin. His love still surrounds me. God isn’t going anywhere. Why can’t I look at the future and say to myself, “these dark ashes will make the light of His miracles all the more apparent.” For what better contrast is there but to shine a light in the dark?

How will my doubts change anything? Oh why do we waste our time doubting? He is faithful, He is just. If Christ is for us, who can be against us? This isn’t “my life” that I have to figure out... it’s a lamp, and He is the oil, He is the light within... He is the life.

No, I don’t know how love can survive... but I can choose to pour myself into building in spite of the possibility of collapse. It is the very essence of breakability that makes what I have so precious. If questions have to haunt me... then I want to ask the right questions.

2009-02-13T16:57:00.000-08:00

"Grace."

She cannot forget what she hardly remembers
Though there are times when memory is her killer
Perhaps it is the laughter that makes her cower
Yet even in agony she sees herself smile

The mirror tells no lies

She cannot remember what she hardly forgets
Even when for a moment the forgetting is her savior
Yes it is the hope which keeps her walking
For even in the strength she knows her weakness

The past makes no denials

She will not forget nor remember
For the mirror tells no lies
And the past makes no denials
All that is hangs suspended

Grace wipes it clean.

I want you to love me.

2009-02-07T12:37:00.000-08:00

I am not the type to ask for happiness, in fact I am not the kind of person to ask for almost anything. The most uncomfortable question anyone can ask is, “what do you want” ? Panic instantly washes over me. What if I say the wrong thing? What are the variables? Is the question honest or to dig for information? In spite of the fact that the answer pertains to only one thing, myself. I feel utterly helpless to answer. Why? I have made an interesting discovery. Perhaps this is simply my personality, or it could easily be something I have taught myself over time.. But in my head my individual, personal, desires must correlate directly the person asking what I want. My needs must reflect their perception of what I should need. If they think I should like a blue sofa, oh my, I would love a blue sofa. Yet another interesting facet of my personality is the fact you can never pin me down to any one opinion. I can dance with words for hours. I would “enjoy” doing this, or “find that interesting”, but there is no way at all.. That I could truly want to go, or even feel a need to go. No no, those words are far too strong..

I suppose what I am trying to say is that I have discovered that I live my life to please everyone else. Or as I coined last night.

She is everything to everyone; but nothing to herself.

This I realize isn’t healthy, in fact it is rather terrible. It would be easy to assume that I have been pushed around in life, and for this reason have lost my will to be my own person. It’s always easier to blame other people for weak mindedness. While I cannot deny my share of, how shall I put this, scarring experiences… the fact is that it takes incredible faith and bravery to actually believe something. To stand on your own two feet and say, “I want this”. No matter what anyone else thinks, or feels. Even if it costs me greatly and I lose everything.. I am willing to stand by my desire, my dream, my hope.. I am willing to fight for something.

That would make me I guess, a coward.

This is not a chance for me to dissect myself with loathing. It is more a rather odd revelation that there is in fact nothing wrong with having my own opinion. There is right and wrong, there is truth… yet if I happen to enjoy listening to punk rock loudly while I am home alone… that’s okay. I can disagree. I can think others are wrong. In fact I can calmly tell them that I believe they are wrong.

Perhaps this seems like a small thing, yet to me it is like a vast cavern of unknowns.

I can remember just a year ago, talking with my father (whom I adore greatly) about how I felt ill prepared to leave home once I graduated from high school. He smiled at me and said gently, “Shandi, you’re ready now.. And you’ll be more than ready then, a lot can happen in a year.”

He was right, a lot can happen in a year. I could fall in love, crazy in love. I could apply to, and be accepted by a school that captured my heart… in a different country. I could discover my own ability to manage others after nervously accepting a promotion at work. I could graduate five months early and enter the work force full time to earn my way through school. I could realize that the panic attacks didn’t own me.

I could… in some ways.. Find myself.

It goes without saying, that each of these accomplishments are cradled in the palm of God’s hand. I take no glory in them whatsoever, in fact though I have lived them.. I stare in awe of the beauty He allows to enter my life.

To return to my first sentence, I am not the kind of person to ask for happiness. Growing up life had one purpose and one purpose only. To grow up and become a power-house Journalist with exposes coming out of her fingertips. I would be a passionate, single and driven career woman… I did not imagine happiness. I imagined fighting for information, seeing the worst pain the world could offer and throwing it in the face of America.. Begging people to wake up.. To make a difference… I did not dream of being happy, I dreamed of purpose..

It is still hard for me to imagine the future as, “happy”. Everything I do, I do with intensity… yet… in this past year.. The strangest thing has happened. In my future I see laughter, I do no see myself alone.. I see joy.

Mirrored in a looking glass.

2009-01-26T09:18:00.000-08:00

It’s not a dream, unless you have reach for it.
It’s not hope, unless you battle doubt.
It’s not joy, unless it dries your tears away.
It’s not grace, unless you’re dark and fallen.

There’s no faith, where God retains no glory.
There’s no love, where Christ didn’t sacrifice.
There’s no good, unless His hand is on it.
There is no battle, unless you have to fight.

For in His mercy, His power is displayed.
So in His gifting, our faith its feet will gain.
The heavens open, if we will willing see.
He will guide us, in grace be our belief .

The past few weeks have been a journey for me. I have battled with many things, my own independance, the nature of God's plan for my life and simply questioning whether anything I am doing has true meaning. I am by nature analytical and cynical which can create a plethora of uneeded miseries in my life. That being said I believe that God made my mind the way it is for a reason, I simply need to utilize it properly.

As a rule I don't do "risk" or "change" very well. Having grown up in a world of complete spontaneity and somewhat constant chaos.. I've created saftey perameters which dictate that everything must be carefully researched, many times over, plans must be made well in advance and trust should only be granted after a long trial period in which I am quite certain that nothing will change.

This of course is in complete oppisition to a rather wild part of me that thrives on deadlines, cutting it close, taking ridiculous leaps of faith that appear nothing less than completely insane..

If you are thinking that I must feel confusion on a regular basis I applaud you. I go through life asking questions. Trying to organize everything into a perfect line, and then throwing all plans to the wind and seeing if I can grow wings in a few seconds flat.

Yesterday after months of pondering, lists, budgets, discussions with my parents and arguments with myself... I simply took a chance and jumped off a cliff. In that second I felt as if the world spread before me and light filled my eyes.. it was okay to breathe, to live.. to throw my infinite caution to the wind and explore the meaning of laughter..

Then it struck me, what was I doing? Was I a complete fool? Was I thinking? Doubts assailed me and I stared at my ceiling, trying to formulate a plan with which to tackle this, to make my decision appear safe. I longed for saftey.

I unfortunately am well aquainted with insomnia, I stare at the bright red numbers in the dark, willing myself to sleep, constantly calculating how many hours I have left to rest... only making my inability to sleep worse as I remind myself over and over of what I must do. Yet when I hide my clock beneath the bed, close my eyes and remind myself that the morning will come no more quickly if I simply allow myself to sleep....

I should like to live that way, my responsibilites and trials will come no more quickly if I simply decide to close my eyes and live...

So here's to the fool who will throw her face back to the sun and smile.

Fully revealed, yet unexplained.

2009-01-19T16:59:00.000-08:00

They tell me she’s beautiful, captivating with every inch of her perfected smile.

Well, me, I’m beautiful too.

My own beautiful.

I’m a twist of insomnia in a sleeping world. The lies aren’t what disturb me, the cover up, the mass murder. Why should it? If the sky has fallen why would the world beneath it not cave in?

Oh no, no, no. It isn’t this poison they’re pumping from the sky with war planes (even though they’re telling us that really those things are butterflies spitting rainbows). It’s how we all breathe it in and pretend nothing is happening.

I don’t understand. Why do we lack the ability to care? Oh but it isn’t hurting us right now, not yet at least, maybe our ankles are chained, but we can still wave our hands around... so it’s okay, let someone else fix this problem. We are the problem.

They tell us we’re all good really, born good, basically good, pretty good, relatively good... not that there is good, but that’s a good thing. Then they tell us how many people died a millisecond ago, and who did it, and why they did it.. and they repeat it over and over until every kid with a puppy is going to rob you, and every man with glasses will steal your children. And don’t trust anybody, not with your name, your number or your time.

Doesn’t matter that the world couldn’t exist without trust. Trusting that someone will trust someone else enough not to blow the world up. It doesn’t occur to us. All we know is that there’s a blue box telling us not to trust anyone, so we’ll listen... and block out words with little white dots in our ears, and sleek black boxes on our laps, and tiny black boxes that keep vibrating.. all these boxes.

Oh, but that’s okay.. we like boxes. Boxes are safe.

Safe, yes we like that word.. Everything about that word. Lies, lies are safe. So we refuse to trust.. and in the doing kill ourselves... because we pretend that there are butterflies spitting rainbows, and that everything that moves is going to murder us...

So we don’t listen, we don’t take another’s hand.. and then another’s.. and another.. until we band together to become something more powerful than the nightmare spraying us with darkness in our sleep. We’d rather walk around blind.

Blind is safe... since when is life about being safe...

I like safe, it’s why I am a twist of insomnia.. I’m terrified, and my terror keeps me awake at night. Yet, maybe.. just maybe that’s okay. Even though the world tells me I’m crazy. I don’t see butterflies.. but I do hear the voice of hope, gently telling me that there is laughter in heaven. Laughter at the foolish schemes of man. We may thrive on purposeful blindness, but God sees... He always sees.

A modicum of perception.

2009-01-13T07:48:00.000-08:00

Through genetic pitfalls, a strange childhood and an all too serious personality I have a constant struggle. I suppose one could call it a thorn in my side, although if we’re going to use descriptors I would much prefer a sledgehammer battering my head 24/7. What, you ask is my struggle? Well it isn’t a phobia, it’s not exactly worrying.. it’s more along the lines of a subconscious reaction to the world around me that I cannot completely control. A creeping tension in my shoulders and the pit of my stomach whenever something changes or my life is in upheaval. I despise it. This thing, following me around like a kicked dog, biting at my ankles. Forcing me to double my focus on any task simply to complete it, making me get down on my face before God and ask not for my situation to change.. no.. simply for His presence to become so strong around me that nothing, nothing else matters.

…. What? This bothers me? Something that would drive me to deeper faith. A problem that creates beauty. I would despise that? It all comes down to perception. I perceive how I feel at the moment, not allowing my eyes to open wider and take in the fact that though yes, I am broken.. I am also slowly growing stronger. I perceive the hopelessness my condition would have me believe as truth instead of looking at the greater picture, at how every so called failure in my life God has used to do something miraculous.. It all comes down to perception.

Yes, for the moment my sleep is troubled and restless. I feel as if my entire life is resting in the hands of others, others who don’t nearly have the vested interest that I do. Yes, for the moment I feel lost, out of control.. but there is always more than meets the eye.. and for that, I only need.. a modicum of perception.

Not your cliche.

2009-01-10T21:36:00.000-08:00

Here’s to love.. its birth and laughter, the lowered lashes and silky words.
Here’s to love .. when love is spoken, fervor shining in dark eyes.
Here’s to love.. when pain first finds it, learning how to lean and listen.
Here’s to love.. as years start passing, memories and strength beginning.
Here’s to love.. when the world denies it, stubborn fingers clinging always.
Here’s to love.. it’s first won battle, forever sworn in God’s name.
Here’s to love.. as gloss wears down and wearied beauty makes its mark.
Here’s to love.. as new life sparkles revealing the miracle of trust.
Here’s to love.. slowly aging, two strides unified as one.
Here’s to love.. the gift I wait on, my years now passing growing strong.

Around a week ago as my family began driving home we stopped for a chance to stretch our legs and I had the privilege of watching some seniors skate. There were those who bent their heads and moved around the rink in steady circles, looks of intense concentration on their faces. Still others who skated together, talking and laughing as if they were sitting in a coffee shop. Yet I admit... the ones who touched me deepest were two.. yet one. An older couple, skating arm in arm. Lost in each other’s eyes, laughing together. It was like music.. poetry in motion..

Each one moving their right foot, then their left foot.. at the same moment. They swayed across the ice as one person. I couldn’t help but stand in awe of that, of them. I longed to stop them, to ask them.. how did they learn to move together? What gave them strength in hard times? Though I know I can find the answers from watching my own parents or so many other people that I love.. the individual stories.. of pain.. and love in spite of it.. those are the things that move me..

I am a young woman living in a world where marriage is more about having a huge wedding than actually getting married... in fact the principles marriage is based on have basically become completely obsolete. Love isn’t a high, it’s a choice. A choice a person makes every day. Love is deciding that the impossible will not stop you, that sacrifice is second nature and someone else's eyes are the first ones to gaze from. Love isn’t about losing oneself, it is discovering the beauty of giving oneself completely. Love is never safe.. a love made safe is not love at all.

I pray that I only grow in my ability to give myself..

Write until nothing makes sense.

2009-01-06T21:09:00.000-08:00

My battle is to say with one thousand words what I want to say with one. Yet there is no one word to describe self de-realization. Suddenly seeing myself through eyes not my own, seeing how small my part is.. And in that realizing the power held in my frail hands.

When I was selfish I saw nothing but myself, now.. Others say I am selfless, yet I can hardly look away from their faces to realize the possible truth of their words. I became a mirror, reflecting every person I loved.. That which I battled, was what I held so close to my heart. I absorbed, like a sponge, every thought and action.. Spilling it out as if it were me..

So I lost myself in other’s eyes. If my own eyes were grey I could not tell you. So mingled were they with the greens and browns of those I would die for. From this cavern of voices and echoes I longed to hear my own. To understand my own voice.

In the barren land of trees with branches like unicorn horns poking the marshmallow sky. I began to understand. Mine is the voice of my creator, gently crafting one thousand voices into one. That I do not write with pride.. But with fear and humility.

To be given words and be told to craft them into a cry for every heart.. A cry that will inspire, push and bring hope..

Times of darkness are not for me alone. To drive me closer to the home I so ache for, no, the pitch that I drank so deeply was also a portrait of the world beneath my feet. A place of deceit where I could simply breathe truth.. With a smile.. With love.

Beginning of a new ending.

2009-01-06T17:16:00.000-08:00

Sixteen days later, and I have returned to my hectic life. My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, my body is informing me that I’ve put on too much holiday weight and a to do list keeps running around when I close my eyes… but in all in all I am quite okay and more at peace than when I left.

A lot can run through a person’s head when they are forced to sit for ten hours in a car.. With nothing to stare at but the falling snow. I’ve mulled over the impending fact that I will soon be departing into the world on my own. Eight months and counting.. Hello future. The simple realization that the “Christian life” is really a series of increasingly complex questions. How terrifying and beautiful young love is. The people of strength and character in my life that I am so blessed to know and love…

There is so much more running through my mind, yet this after holiday cold is starting to get the best of me.

Much Love and more to come.
Shandi

Muse.

2009-01-04T08:00:00.001-08:00

I am a woman of introspection, oftentimes this introspection leads me into temporary insanity. Yet at the gentle encouragement of one of my heroes in this life I will seek to explore my personal theology, for as he pointed out.. We all have a theology, even atheists. It isn’t a matter of having a theology, but understanding what it is that you believe… and perhaps once you have defined your worldview, you will find it wanting.. Or perhaps you and I will be reminded of the beauty and grace in our creator. So now like the love my life is constantly asking me, “do you really believe, that what you believe is really real?”

To me God has always been an intimate, powerful and creative being. The friend and father I could talk to, the painter of clouds and intricate weaver of flowers. As I grew older He became a place of safety in the midst of a constant changing world. The father I could run to while my earthly father slowly burnt himself out. A God of peace when my sister when through intensive surgery, the arms that held me when I visited her in the ICU hardly able to recognize the girl whose laughter so often chased me.

I never took the time to define the God who I belonged to. I didn’t need to, I understood even in the midst of my anger and bitterness that He existed. There was bitterness, I had my phase of personal darkness, a cliché teenage year brought on by things inflicted on me by others and my refusal to allow anyone to help heal the gaping wounds within.

Perhaps one of the most distinct ways I have learned to live my faith is through my lack of church attendance. Of anything I could say this is probably one of the most provoking. My family was never hurt by the church, in fact any drama directed in our direction came eleven years ago, when we returned to Canada and simply quit going to church. Did we leave our faith? Hardly. I grew up listening to my parents and friends discuss God and the ways He worked in our lives. Was witness to passionate prayer and tears. I also felt biting loneliness and a disconnection from other believers.

I discovered a faith based on sacrifice, surrender, and relationship. A world outside of Sunday school, a place where God was not shoved in my face, if I desired Him, I would have to seek Him myself. So I learned the silent power of prayer, and the beauty of words.

As my writing has progressed, so has my faith in many ways. As my words become less extensive and more succinct so my trust becomes less dependant on understanding and more deeply rooted in the fact I belong to One much greater than me.

I often find myself disgusted with “Christianity” today, which anyone close to me can easily attest to. I am passionate and vocal, where is the love? Why stained glass windows when the beggars are starving on the doorstep? Our praise songs of feel good, happy happy.. What about the doubts and questions? To a person curled up on the bathroom floor shaking with the agony of life (me) the promises of a God who only wants me to be happy and prosperous are utterly meaningless. I find no hope in a faith that promises a lack of pain.. It already has proven itself a lie. Though my pride screams against it, the one place I find hope is the blood dripping from the cross.. The promise of agony, and the demand that I surrender.

Surrender pinches, itches and never seems to fit. Can’t I tailor it to fit? A little bit loose around the neck, so I can speak what I want more easily.. Not so tight around my hands.. I wish to move what I wish to move… still I know, I know without question that my pain.. It can be eased if I admit that I am nothing, I have nothing, and without Christ I can be no good, see no good and know no good. The essence of my faith is the realization that it is Christ in me… to me, the girl curled up on the bathroom floor, surrender gives hope.. I am already powerless, to admit that is nothing.. But the grace supplied to me.. That means everything.

Four years ago I began asking a hard question, does God call people to lives of pain? Did God call me to a life of pain? It seemed that everywhere I turned there was a deep ache.. It refused to leave me, this longing, this … indescribable, unending, sickening… desirous ache. I have not found my answer, but I have found a sliver of understanding. I am driven, always.. To dig deeper, even after I have found peace.. I need more… this pain, this ache, reminds me of my powerlessness.

As a woman who falls so easily in love with each person she meets, this ache reminds me that only God will truly fulfill me. This ache reminds me of the heart of God, constantly rejected, as millions turn away from Him.. It reminds me.. That my God, my Lord, my Master… while He is Holy, all knowing and all powerful.. He too desires for relationship for love. How easily I turn to God in times of pain, simply for help.. Yet I ignore Him studiously otherwise. Does God NEED me? No, not in the slightest.. Does He desire me.. Yes.

Just as I have slowly fallen in love and found that a healthy relationship needs communication, connection and trust.. So the most important relationship in my life needs communication, connection and trust. Perhaps I sound heretical. So be it. God is not some distant figure of stoic position. He is my Father, my Lover.. And He desires to know me intimately, and deeply.

In Christ and His love forever.
Shandi

Deeper.

2008-12-28T06:30:00.000-08:00

I've had a thought provoking Christmas more than anything... a discovery of a quiet peace and confidence in my faith and who I am.

More to come at a later date...

Love.

For the love of my life.

2008-12-20T20:22:00.000-08:00

I don't even know why I'm crying..

Perhaps it's all the memories of that day a year ago exactly when I looked into his eyes for the first time. Maybe it's the pure awe at the fact we've made it this far.. it hasn't been easy. It isn't going to get easier. I'll do it anyways.

Brad Paisley is playing over the piles of suitcases. I leave tomorrow for Christmas with my family. There's something beautifully strange about all of this.. my life feels like a terrible fairy tale, without the cheesy lines and all dilemmas.. but that doesn't matter. Not really.

Now Clay Walker croons. Each song a gift from the man who I have fallen for so deeply over the past year. My love story is atypical and crazy. It's a little insane, but we've never even been on a date.. unless you count trying to find a few seconds to talk alone in the midst of my family last year.

Sometimes I've felt crazy, for doing this.. I've decided that I am, but what I have has strengthened me, driven me to God, revealed my weaknesses and brought them into the light.

What we have isn't something that dies.. It's a year since we stood on the same ground, but this.. this is already two and a half years of stubborn kids learning that they can make it through anything together..

So here's to love that others scoff at. Here's to love that defies all odds. Here's to a love that spans two countries, nearly three years.. a heart that is becoming one.

Merry Christmas.. may my love remind you of the true meaning, sacrifice, trust in what cannot be touched or seen, a God beyond fathoming.

I love you babe.

2008-12-17T11:44:00.000-08:00

'Unending'

How be ye so near, when yet you are so far?
How does thou voice still whisper soft, with thy mouth so far from mine?
I beg pray tell how do thy hands, so gently touch my face?
Your eyes so dark gaze into mine, from an empty hanging space.
My heart within my chest beats slow, with aching longing strong.
To make this love more real, for naught, all patience bows its head.
In tempest wind of years I stand, unending love is mine.

Pay me no mind.

2008-12-07T21:25:00.000-08:00

I have lived a dreamer's life, mostly due to the influence of my parents. I’ve moved more times than I have fingers and toes combined. I’ve traveled and lived in North and South America, some adventures on my own, most within the realm of my family and missions. I know first hand what it looks like to watch my parents have no money to pay the bills. I’ve watched my sister in the ICU, hardly able to recognize her, I’ve seen my mother gasp for air that wasn’t there.. Too many times. I know fear, I know hardship, I know adventure. All these experiences created in me an insatiable need to understand the world around me, a desire to find beauty and display it, become it. In spite of this, these dreams beating in my chest.. For the past few months I have struggled with something else. The safe route.

I have this idea, that I should become an English teacher. Now before you clap your hands and declare what a marvellous job I would do of that (and I would, I realize it) the only reason I have chosen that career at all.. Is because, and I say this with complete honesty. It’s practical, economic, and something of a guarantee. It is safe.

What are my dreams you ask? For many years, six actually, I’ve wanted to become a Journalist. I didn’t think of the pretty TV reporter with a nice cute hair cut and pink lip gloss either, my dreams lay in Israel, in Jerusalem.. I wanted to be a foreign correspondent. I had people tell me that I probably wouldn’t be able to handle it. That only made me more stubborn. I would find a place within myself that would be strong enough to be the voice in a place often wracked with terror. My passion, the fiery depth of it.. I cannot explain. I needed, I had.. To go to Israel and tell its story.

Then, like in most stories there came a boy.. A boy who challenged every single thing I believed in, although at our cores we believed the same, when it came to semantics… we could argue for hours. So we did. Our friendship grew over the thousands of miles, based on rhetoric, wit and the ability to communicate better than the other. Still, we never gave in much, if at all. A year passed and I found something strange happening to my girlish heart, something I had vowed would never happen.

A foreign correspondent is not attached, she is a singular force. There is too much danger to worry anyone. Unfortunately no one had made God aware of this particular fact, He never got the memo.

So I discovered something exciting, bubbly and utterly terrifying. I found the beginnings of long arduous yet beautiful road called love. Fast forward another year and I had discovered new talents and passions within my own hands and heart. Photography, an expression of creation, of small details.. I found that although I am outgoing and brave, I enjoy watching from the background, observing and figuring out what makes people do what they do. Caring for the elderly, little children, reaching out to the broken young women around me. I found so much joy in caring for others. Something soft, vulnerable and gentle began to grow in me.. Something that had always been there, yet, grew to a flame with womanhood. I found that although I longed for adventure, I didn’t need to go far to find it. All I longed to do was reveal beauty and lift others up.

This brings me to the dreams now hidden behind ocean colored irises. My dreams, when I let myself voice them encompass both a Journalistic world and a world of business.. In a way. My dream is to be some sort of consultant, go into businesses, watch them, asses their strengths and weaknesses not in the form of financing, or anything that technical.. I want to see how people interact, what their dreams and talents are, and then I would love to help create a practical plan or framework on which to use these things. People live for hope, for goals, for something to look forward to. I want to help ignite that spark in people. It doesn’t even have to be in businesses, just with people in general. Or a form or marketing, any way in which I can combine words, my people skills and photography to appeal to others… yet I long to find stories and tell them… as you can see, my dreams are like a mass of rainbows trying to organize themselves with no real success.

Then.. There is the past month.. Where I have slowly and systematically hidden my every dream as I watched the economy begin to crumble. What can a girl with no clear path do? Isn’t it so much easier to capitalize on strengths and do something that would guarantee employment? Even if the thought of it makes one feel rather sick. Yet.. Something in me is fighting, fighting like a banshee to have her say… and she is informing me that I have lived the life of a dreamer.

I have seen the world through a sheen of tears, and I have discovered the beauty in always tasting salt on my lips. I have faced insurmountable challenges and come through with laughter… I have lived the life of a dreamer, now it is my choice.. Will I be a dreamer?

P.S.
Two and a half years later my mindset of a "singular force" is decimated. I am blessed beyond measure, I'm more than a little crazy for love.. and my dreams no matter how disorganized always seem to have this tall, dark eyed boy with a smile that melts my heart..

Even now.

2008-12-04T12:08:00.000-08:00

....for the man who loves me from afar.

“You misunderstand.” Her footsteps carried the weight in her young eyes. “I.. can’t be a Princess, don’t you see?”

There was that desperate quality to her voice. The one that grew quieter with each breath. Proof that she would once again withdraw into her own soul. He knew the dangers she would meet there.

“You’re wrong.” He so desperately wanted to rip the sword from the sheath at his side. Soak the ground with her fears and misconceptions. Yet those dragons hid themselves, posing lethally near her heart and mouth, waiting to poison her very breath.

“I’m a peasant. Do these hands look genteel to you?”

“These hands….” His voice became a reverent whisper. He began to speak again, softly at first, gaining strength. “These hands.. These hands have wiped the tears from so many eyes. These hands have penned the words that believed in me when I couldn’t see the light. These hands.. They are the hands that shake and bleed, yet continue their ministrations of mercy even now…”

She turned her head. “I have no bravery.”

His laughter spun in the air around them harshly. “You? No bravery? You? Who look death in the eye and will not turn away?”

“Not my own death.”

“Ha, don’t tell me you do not die yourself every time the ones who hold your heart draw their own blood.”

“…stop.” Her voice was small.

“Why? So I can.. Like you overlook the beauty shining brighter than the sun? You are my princess, you are my Valkyrie, a woman of silent grace and endless loveliness. A woman who is surrounded by her own weakness, and in the midst of it walks through a crowd like an angel and ever so carefully eases the burdens of those she passes. You are not perfect, yet you rival perfection in my eyes…”

The breath slipped out of her slowly. With measured steps she walked across the echoing stone floor. Spinning slowly on her heel she drew her body into a dance.

The voice that slipped from her lips was filled with wearied awe. “I hear music.. Do you hear the music?”

“Not yet.”

In three steps her was beside her. In one movement she was cradled close, the sound of his heart thrumming against her ear. “Now…” he whispered against her hair, “..now I hear music.”

A cry woven in silence.

2008-12-01T14:40:00.000-08:00

"Billows."

If we who wander are lost, then why are we never searching
Is the fog yet so deep we can’t pass it
Shall we lie in the ditches declaring them graves
“It’s so nice I don’t have to dig my own.”

Can our hands not reach out to feel the fence posts
A splinter in a finger is so pale when the string to the sun is found
Will we not pull it down with great triumph
“See the light around us.”

Still we stand without movement or breath
Has all oxygen vacated our souls
Could it kill us to pull in the warriors of life
“This is how it feels to truly live.”

The stars have forgotten our names
The grey has made us all the same
Billows of thoughtlessness in rows
“I don’t remember who I am.”

Perhaps the oddest thing of all, is how when it all suddenly matters to me.. the world stands by and applauds as if this whole thing, everything happening is some game show.. and they're winning. When my dreams could be destroyed by the power plays of men who don't know my existence. When all I really want is to spend my life loving someone... and yet the world must decide for us, whether or not we can.

Still in the midst of the swirling confusion, my God smiles. His voice echoes past the boundaries of time.. saying without sound, yet rushing at me louder than the tone of one thousand voices.

I am, who I am.
I have created and I have destroyed.
I have walked the earth and I have died.
I have overcome darkness and I have seen your every moment.
I am, who I am.

That... is enough.

Dear World.

2008-11-24T10:02:00.001-08:00

Though I’m known for being somewhat knowledgeable for my age, I can’t say that I always follow politics or the economy with the fastidious that I do now. Being a young Canadian woman with big dreams that stretch south.. The crashing Canadian dollar is something of a black cloud following me around. For the first time in my life I check the dollar twice a day, sometimes more.

Although I really can’t change anything, I refuse to be uniformed. Perhaps the strangest part of life right now.. Is how despite the fact that my life is gaining stress, something in me still says that everything will be okay. I’m known for my melancholy pessimism.. This unwavering hope almost makes me nervous.

Part of me wonders if I’ll end up burning myself out with the knowledge that I’ll probably have to work two jobs full time. There’s something to be said for paying for one’s entire education by themselves. It’s a mountain.. But by the time I’ve done this.. I’ll have experience.

May my dreams take wing.

Pay no mind to the foolish heart, look only to God.

2008-11-19T23:23:00.000-08:00

May I remind you, when your forehead touches your knees as the tears overcome you.
There will be strength to go on.

May I remind you, when you say you can’t go on.
That is when He will teach your hands to hold His in the dark.

May I remind you, when the picture shatters at your feet.
He never intended your eyes to gaze at a captured image, rather..
He desires for you to live fully and embrace the world He will bring you into.

These are the reminders to myself, in darkest hours.
These are the words of truth I find, when my cries have lost their power.

Strands.

2008-11-18T09:15:00.000-08:00

The past few weeks, days, hours.. They’ve been chasing me in endless circles. I’ve been hit with some new trials, not my own… yet connected to me in deep ways.. And I have tried to figure out my place in them. Perhaps the biggest thing once again is the relationship I have with a wonderful guy. Make no mistake, he is truly a gift from God to my life, loving, patient, extremely intelligent and above all Godly. Yet being the mysterious and strange little woman I am, I managed to fall in love with someone far away from me. Who I see very rarely. Hence the struggle.

There are always questions, doubts and the “what ifs”. So I pray, over think everything and manage to drive myself crazy until in the midst of it this precious guy manages to find the time to make me realize that it’s worth the wait. There are times I feel so overwhelmed by everything happening in my world. Yet there is joy, if I am willing to take it.

Perhaps the most beautiful thing right now, is looking back. My story for those privileged enough to test its murky depths can be disturbing and somewhat amusing. God seems to enjoy placing every ironic happening He can in my life. Still, beyond the tears, hospital hallways, memories that I pray will one day be erased completely from my memory… I find this strand of light.

My future will also hold that strand..

A momentary goodbye.

2008-11-06T23:36:00.000-08:00

It’s funny, how the most beautiful days can become the kind of things you only think happen in movies. I’m not talking Princess Bride either.. Think “P.S. I love you”. The kind of beauty that has you crying every minute, aching.. Wondering and yet knowing it’s okay.. It just has to hurt awhile.

Today, I became a woman in the eyes of the legal world. I celebrated my day of birth.. And well today someone very precious to me had a celebration this morning too. This morning a precious great aunt of mine entered the gates of heaven and saw the face of her creator. It makes me laugh through my tears.

I’m still vaguely in shock. It doesn’t seem real. How can you go for three years without seeing someone, and suddenly in an instant they vanish? You will never again hear their voice on this earth. Never bring your boyfriend to meet them. Never exchange recipes, or tell of university plans… so I mourn…

Is this my cry for help? Not really. It is more a search into the depths of my soul… oh so many tears have already fallen today.. Yet no questions, no why, no anger.. And that amazes me. I ache, yes, but not with a feeling of injustice… no, she is home, she is free, she is dancing with angels. I must simply say goodbye.

I’m finding grief and odd thing. It comes in waves, between bouts of laughter and normality. I am also finding support, surrounding me. So many people who love me so deeply.. And I thank God.. I am so loved..

So cling to those you love, and love those you do not wish to.
Every moment on this earth is precious.

The pain will pass.. And with it will come wisdom.

Hello world.

2008-11-06T10:59:00.000-08:00

On this day, eighteen years ago.. I was born.

I feel a strange sense of joy, even as the rain falls outside my window. You wouldn’t believe I see mountains, not with the fog hanging like a damp coat that refuses to dry. Yet even if the beauty around me is hidden.. I know it’s there. Perhaps that is the reason for my joy. It isn’t that I am suddenly brilliant or wise, yet I have the smallest understanding that I… can embark on any adventure I so choose. Yes I have grown up surrounded by love, support and an understanding of God.. But now.. It is my turn to believe for myself, to step out with my own feet.

A daughter; blessed with the support of her parents.
A granddaughter; blessed with the gentle wisdom of all her grandparents.
A sister; blessed with the laughter and friendship of her siblings.
A friend; blessed with the beautiful insanity of so many.
A girlfriend; blessed with a precious young love grown in the heart of God.

While I am surrounded by those who tell me even the angels are dancing in celebration… I can’t help but smile and think to myself that this day is more a celebration of those who love me… those who have helped shape a girl into a woman who passionately seeks the heart of God…

I leave you with laughter.

(And the thought of how you aren’t going to get to taste my chocolate fudge cake.. Yes I’m making it myself.. There is nothing so wonderful as creating a masterpiece that tastes as good as it looks.)

2008-11-04T11:48:00.000-08:00

"Thorn."

This isn’t right, isn’t how I’m supposed to be.
Oh, but creations fall and fail in a pallid world.
So I’ll survive, and pray you can forgive me.
So I’ll close my eyes, and hope for the coming day.
I’d crawl from within my skin if there were only a way-
But love bids me stay, and in this madness you say I’ll find a way.

This isn’t who I am, isn’t how my hands are supposed to tremble.
When everything will one day die, must I feel like dying.
So I’ll press on, and pray you will forgive me.
So I’ll bite my tongue, and wait for the cleansing rain.
I’d siphon out this sadness if there were only a way-
But love bids me stay, and in this madness you say I’ll find a way

This isn’t here forever, although soon it will come again.
A body as a temple, with a thorn biting through pale flesh.
So I stand here barely standing, and pray you will forgive me.
So I lift my head, and hear your words wrap around me.
You hold this broken body and love it as your own-
While love bids me stay, in my dark and madness you say I’ll find a way.

2008-10-28T11:15:00.000-07:00

"Child of Mine."

Child of petulant heart.
Can you not taste the rain that weighs your lashes?
Child of questioning eyes.
Can you not hear the winds that whip the oceans?
Child of wandering hopes.
Can you not feel the sands that hold your footprints?
Child created in grace.
Am I not the ending before your beginning?

2008-10-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

"Though I may drown."

Oh, and whose to say this dream’s too vast?
Though my eyes grow weary, still they see.
For hope is drawn from where hope dies.
My hands may falter, but still they write.
A pen will bleed to bring the dawn.

I am a dreamer who will pour all she is into this ocean.. even if it sweeps me away.

Of nothing and everything.

2008-10-20T10:56:00.000-07:00

In an often misguided attempt to understand the root of my sometimes depressive nature, I seem to overlook the most obvious cause.. Those around me. Now before I am jumped from behind with criticism of victim like behavior, allow me to explain myself at least.

From the time I was a small child to the present (granted there isn’t much space between, I can’t deny that I am young) I have had a great aura of empathy. There is something within my very soul that is drawn to the suffering of others, and then if at all possible the smallest healing of their pain. From sitting on the ground in circles with Venezuelan children, simply staring into each others eyes and laughing, to a nursing home in Canada where I sit silently holding the hand of a woman who can no longer speak.. I long to feel exactly what others feel; and in the doing absorb their emotions. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing. I have been called to weep with those who weep.

There is a fine line however between empathizing and becoming that which you empathize with. To feel another's pain is not to become the other's pain. I point this out because it is one of my greatest struggles in life. I ache deeply for those I love, I draw them so close to my heart that I seem to forget that I have my own. This is not a self seeking paragraph that deems me perfect or special.. On the contrary I take the burdens of others blindly until they are my own.. And then I am left empty, drained, and without purpose.

I feel cut off from the world around me, long to hide.. Wondering what is wrong with me, why I feel this way, what I did. Yet if I would take just a moment to realize that to feel another's pain is not to become it.. I would learn with great joy that there is nothing wrong with “me”, that I in fact still have hope.. And in that knowledge I would find the smile that reaches across the chasm to touch the world.

If this feels circular or complex I apologize; yet not for the words themselves, simply for the fact they may confuse themselves in the speaking.

I can become so lost in what I see as “my” darkness, that I lose sight of the beauty I have been given to share. This is not my darkness, nor is my ability to feel and love others a curse. Rather it is a beautiful burden that can draw me further into the heart of Christ. To feel as another feels is a great privilege, it keeps me from judging and opens my eyes to the fact that all I need do is love.. Deeply.

Now that I’ve bared my soul for the world to see, I think I shall play with words a little. Ah yes, the dancing mind of a writer.

Love.
(inspired by and for the one I love)

It was never a matter of discovery
For deep within you’ve always danced

Nor was it ever a matter of waiting
Though it took me oh so long to find you

No, it was never a matter of loving you
My heart has held you from my creation

Oh love, it was simply a matter of grace
Years passing into themselves like the folds in a curtain
Gently pulled back to reveal the world beyond

This was always a matter of learning
Swimming the depths of sacrifices I would make

Forever a matter of falling
Seeing the eyes that formed me clearly

Yes, it was always a matter of saving
Saving the secret joys for your smile

Sweet love, it is now a matter of patience
Days whispering by like the lake beneath the ice
Spring calls from a distance yet I must enjoy today.

2008-10-17T11:04:00.000-07:00

"Untitled."

To some a kiss is just a kiss;
To me it is a dream.
For ne’r my lips, his have touched -
Though their taste I’ve often seen.

To some a love can never last;
To me it never dies.
For though his eyes are far away-
In my heart - they, open, smile.

For what’s a kiss, but promised love.
A promise he shall have -
Of love eternal, fast, and deep.
God’s grace in endless trials.

2008-10-16T10:10:00.000-07:00

"Serenity"
(for the man whose love surrounds me...)

Whisper truth to the seven winds.

He knows the colour of my name –
Each syllable falls into idyllic silence.

Stare into the winter’s sky.

He sees the hope within my smile –
Every memory taking to the skies.

Recently disenchanted.

2008-10-15T16:14:00.000-07:00

As I sit cross legged on a sofa, laptop ironically balanced on my legs… I try to think of some idea with which to woo a reader. Searching further for words to reveal and peel away my visage of humanity, words to show the beauty of grace-given immortality. I give up.

There is a certain magic to the feeling of warmth from the woodstove only five feet away from me. Its radiating heat reminding me that another year is disappearing into never-never land. It brings out the laughter in my eyes, while stirring the deep thoughts and questions that sometimes haunt me.

Where is the true purpose in a world that says I need success of intellectual/wealthy/botox ridden shiny variety? There is a part of my young mind that wants to simply leave north America, find some small jungle village, and just live the rest of my life loving and helping others. When I think of all the money I will pour into “my” education I almost feel like a selfish money monger. Yet God can, has, and will use those who are educated.. and isn’t the search for knowledge in the light of God a pure desire? So I bask in my own confusion, occasionally drinking in a clear thought or two when I make a friend smile.

Perhaps it is a confusion that will fade with age.. perhaps it is the struggle I shall face until the day I die.

Today I read The Giver by Lois Lowry. As I absorbed each word I was systematically dissecting and yet thralling in the way it was so finely crafted. If anything, it made me appreciate deeply my ability to feel pain. How often do I walk past the beauty around me without blinking? Another book I indulged myself in during the past few days is The Phantom Tollbooth. For a children’s book it struck me again with the profound.

Lately I have discovered a feeling of listlessness that borders on morose. To my minor surprise I find that my friends who are much the same age as I am feel the same way. Our childhood stands behind us waving gaily with colors we once found exciting. We miss the simplicity of mind, yet long for something deeper that makes us feel meaningful. In spite of our desire to be part of something, we feel no real compulsion to do anything.

So I search for a cure. While I find joy for my future (when I think of places I will soon go and things I will most certainly do), there is always a feeling of questioning. “Well what’s the point of that?” It isn’t a bad question really.

The very world itself seems to be asking that very question, and yet that’s as far as it gets. Instead of following the first question with a second, a third and then quite possibly a fourth we ask one question.. sit down and declare we’ve had enough. I challenge the world to ask again. I challenge myself to ask again.

Yes.

What is the point to this? Why do I need a point? If there is a point there must be a point giver, mustn’t there? Who is the point giver? What does the point giver say?

And then – the questions begin to tumble like waterfalls and I remember.

I am not here for my own purpose. I am not here for my own happiness. I am not here to become something great or accomplish any great deed. I am here for a singular simply complex reason.

To breathe.

You’re confused. To be honest so am I. Why would I be placed upon this world of wars, blood and horror.. to breathe? Oh but maybe that in itself is the most beautiful part. When I decide to simply breathe I accept the life given to me. In accepting life I am given a choice to acknowledge the life giver. Will I be still and acknowledge?

This was never about me in the first place.

Now, then.

2008-05-09T10:55:00.000-07:00

Today, tomorrow.. Yesterday. Where does one start and the other end? Logic suggests that we live second by second, minute by minute. Time passing by in sequential ordered parts. Over.. Gone. Yet our minds it would seem do not move with time. Nor do they move like time.

Time is the moment in which something occurs. It is a pivot point, a verb, a living breathing action of the here and now.. Right now.. And now.. And again. One would suppose that we could live like that. Each moment.. As one passes moving on to the next. A fluid motion leaving behind that which was, moving into that which is.

We don’t. We live the past, present and future all in one glance. Constantly reacting to that which has not yet happened, based on that which has already happened. How do we know this is the proper reaction? The past seems to repeat itself. I wonder though, if it is truly the “past” repeating itself or us repeating the past. For time has no power to bring about events, it is our very hands the mold each day's terrors in the likeness of yesterday’s.

Sometimes I feel as if I am living eternally, everything mingles and I do not feel one thing ending and the new beginning.. It all runs together endlessly. If it were to stay this way forever I would lose all hope. Looking at the world around me I often hear others say. “This world has nothing for me.” “In heaven it will be alright.” While I do not, cannot disagree with this.. I do.

How? Quite simply actually. I look at the world around me, feel repulsed and drawn in the same breath and realize something. God created this world beneath my fingertips, the sensations on the soles of my care feet. He created all of this around me to be enjoyed. To be lived in. Right here, right now. So if I.. declare with great gusto that this, this here.. Is not what I was created for. Heaven really is going to be quite the disappointment.

Now that I’ve stated my heretical stance let me explain.

My understanding of heaven, small, inconsistent, lacking in facts and knowledge thought it may be.. Is this. It shall be a return of that which God started in the beginning, yet so much better, for they will be no barrier between man and God. Once again.. We shall simply live, to live.. In a new creation, teeming with power, beauty and unspeakable loveliness.

In other words.. We shall live, with God. Much like we are living now, sans the terror, fear, pain, hatred and so on.. All which we ourselves have caused.

In harmony. In peace. We.. Will live. Not in some distended mystical state. It will be existence at the purest form, yet it shall be existence.

For this reason when I hear the words “this world has nothing for me” I rebel. The essence behind the words is true, the tangled webs of deceit and lies are nothing compared to the glory of God. Yet in saying those words so often it would seem that we completely separate ourselves from the very life we are living now. This life, has a purpose. Each moment is mean to be savored, drunk in, memorized and used. All around us creation cries out for deliverance.. Yes this is true, yet in spite of the darkness.. Each step we take here, is meant to be here. We have been placed on a planet created by God, to live.

I sometimes wonder the point of “bringing salvation to the world”. If all we can do is mimic the world by living always for the future. All around there are plans and goals, all screaming “if you do this then..”. We’re all living for the moment we can never grasp. The “then”. If I go to university, then. If I get married, then. If I get this job, then. Grasping, grasping.. And finally.. There is no hope. There is no then.. For tomorrow never comes. All we are given is today, and today, and today.

What if.. We are meant for today?

Could it be that it is not "this world is not for me", could it be instead that somehow, right here and now who we are is not for this world. Oh yes this world will be done away with, yet maybe it is our inability to truly grasp and live in the now that so destroys us, not the creation around us. We have destroyed this world in search of then..

So I ponder and pray for Heaven, yes.. I pray that here and now.. I will learn to live in this moment given to me, to use it for my Saviour.. And I pray that when time is no more, at last my mind will find rest, in a moment that does not scream with past and future. A moment.. When I shall truly live.

Willing to happen.

2008-04-22T21:29:00.000-07:00

If it is God’s will it will happen.. These words seems like the wallpaper in my mind. The very phrase following me around each and every day. Perhaps I am foolish to question such an age old Christian adage. Would I deny the power of all mighty God? The flippant way in which we use those words bother me. It is a Band-Aid for every problem, a cover for every time we mess up.

First of all let me explain my stand. I believe in the infallible word of God, I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. That He was born of virgin, lived a perfect life, died for a our sins and rose three days later. I believe that God created the earth I live on. I do not, cannot, and will not deny the power, grace, beauty and omnipotence of God. He is beyond fathoming.

Having said this the saying “if it is God’s will it will happen” in essence takes away human responsibility. We can simply point to God whenever something does or doesn‘t happen, and then sit in our computer chairs and pretend the world around us doesn’t exist. Relationship falling apart? Well if it’s God’s will it will just work out.. If it doesn’t, well we know it wasn’t His will. Got a failing grade. Oh well, we knew God never would have wanted us to get a better grade anyways.

We have removed the element of choice. The ability to decide, to make a move, that precious element that sets us apart as God’s diamond of creation. I wonder.. Do we really believe it is God’s will that many should perish and live in eternal death? Yet we are allowed that choice. Why?

Are we really so selfish that we would use God’s will for our own gain? The loving Father who gave us the ability to turn to Him, to take His hand and walk forward. Yet we choose to pretend we have no part to play. No risks to take.

Do I believe that in the end God’s will, will be done? Yes.. I do… and yet I also know that it is not God’s will that any should perish. It IS our own choice to allow His will to work in our lives or not. In the end that is where I digress.

If it is God’s will… yes it will happen, yet if we push God away although He will still use us, still work in through our lives, He will not force us back into His embrace, He will not drag us kicking and screaming into eternity with Him. If we choose to close our eyes and stick a dagger through our heart, though it pains Him more than we can know.. He will not stop us.

I can’t just stand here waiting for God’s will to happen. I can’t just destroy my life and proclaim that was His desire.. All I can do is surrender myself to His will so that.. In the end God’s will.. will be done.

Beautiful choice.

2008-04-15T09:56:00.000-07:00

Recently, out of nowhere it would seem I have been confronted with the idea of Godly submission. Being a headstrong young woman I’ve taken my sweet time to rack up the pros and cons of something I held as ultimately my decision on a purely “theological” issue. Obviously one’s theology will affect them deeply. I do not deny this. It is (the) fundamental basis of each person’s personal faith. Yet having said this, in my mind theological “issues”, while being very fascinating to explore did not necessarily have to be demonstrated in my life.

You could think of it as a scientific theory that is being proven, while you can watch with rapt interest for awhile, if you are even slightly bored you can move on without it affecting your life. Submission was nothing but an argument on some distant horizon. I could take the parts which I liked and apply then to my life as I felt necessary. If you are thinking this is laughably naïve then kindly allow me to laugh along with you. In His grace and gentle smile, the Saviour of the world lifted my heavy head; coaxing my eyes to open until I beheld something that reached beyond dusty tomes and debates in great echoing halls.

My story has its twists and dark moments like all stories do. I have laughed until I nearly cried. I have felt the safety of a loving Daddy’s arms. I’ve been sung to sleep by a mother who would give her very life for her children. Each moment leading me to the place where I would stand and decide for myself what I believed.

Decisions and choices rained from a sky of confusion, falling to an empty canvas. My fingers trembled as I sought to lift the brush, dip it in pain and create my masterpiece. I could not stop trembling. Terror covered my eyelids. Nothing made sense. There were moments I wondered if I was becoming delusional. What were dreams?

I was asked a question by two women I respect very deeply. Two women of intelligence, beauty grace and strength.

“Are you allowing yourself to submit?”

Suddenly something from the land of argument and higher thought was sitting at my feet.

Was I submitting to what? I am not married.

What was submission? Didn’t it destroy the very beauty I was seeking so hard to shine with?

Wasn’t submission somewhat outdated?

So began a journey my feet are only now walking into. I have not the great arguments of a philosopher. Nor can I aptly use each word to sway a crowd in my direction. In fact I really don’t desire to change anyone. My own heart is in itself a vast untamed sea that with God’s help I shall traverse. All I can write is the simple beauty I saw through my tears. Perhaps it will move you… perhaps it will anger you. Whatever it does, it is not my argument for truth, for truth need not be argued. Truth stands the tests of time. Lies may come against it in great force, but, those who long for truth will have their eyes opened.

So here at last is my small collection of thoughts, inspirations or whatever you shall call it on submission.

One of my greatest dislikes of the entire idea of submission was the unspoken yet predominant idea from myself and the world around me that in submitting I would somehow be losing a part of myself, denying the truth of what I am….

True submission stems not from the suppression of a feminine heart, instead submission is a great curtain lifting to reveal a gallery of breathtaking loveliness.

In a world where beauty seems unattainable.. I suddenly had to glow with a smile.. Submission could never be reached until I realized who I was in Christ. My beauty, my gentle heart, the tears I cried to easily, the way in which my very arms ached when I heard the cry of a child.. Submission wasn’t a matter of forcing me, it was a dance in which I had a part that only I could live. I had been created to bubble over with laughter, talk without ending, silently hold the broken hearted.. I had been created as the only one with my heart.. God’s painting. Submitting meant that I allowed my beauty to shine through, that I embraced it.. I did not deny the softness in my eyes. Submitting meant I allowed myself to be who I was created to be… submission meant I could live.

With a realization of beauty comes another realization.. The beauty endowed upon me is powerful. A feminine heart carries great sway. With this ability as it were… I have a decision in my relationship with God, and as I discover romance. Will I use my power against the one I love, or will I place my love behind, in tandem, in support of the one I love?

Submission is the choice to fully realize my own worth, and with confidence in who I am place my strength, beauty, hopes and encouragement behind the one I will love even in the things I do not necessarily agree with. A battle is never won by internal destruction, in the same way a relationship could not traverse to higher ground if all I did was push against the one I loved. My part is to follow, and believe against all odds, for in my love is gentle strength.

In saying this it becomes apparent that submission is anything but mindless. It is a distinct decision to become part of an unstoppable force by moving in the same direction and not against. My place as a “weaker vessel” does not take away from my loveliness, instead it is simply a beautiful weakness.. An expression of the way I am so perfectly created to be protected…

This hardly covers all the facets of the songs in my heart, but for now it shall suffice.

So my story continues, with new struggles each day. So my story moves forward.. As God laughs into my eyes and guides my way.