The slow learning of hope...

As I haved walked past the motel next to me over the past few weeks, i have heard kids playing in the little bitty space of concrete between the motel and the sidewalk. I have seen their eyes peer through the fence as i walk past, fingers sticking through, and laughter echoeing. A number of times I have tried to talk with them through the fence, but, as good little kids are taught- "don't talk to strangers!" :)
Yesterday, i decided to go over to the motel and introduce myself to this family. I had a great excuse... 4 free tickets to the IMAX theater downtown, so i fugured that would make me a bit more approachable! So-, sure enough, i rounded the corner and saw a little girl sitting inbetween the fence and her motel... she was soo stinkin cute! I asked her if her mommy or daddy or grandma/grandpa were home? And within a matter of seconds 7 people surfaced out of the dark hotel room, TV blaring- into the beautiful sun-lit day. I introduced myself as their neighbor, gave them the tickets and asked if they wanted to come play in the garden. Then i left...
no more than 15 minutes later, the three kids and their mom came over to the house and we played together in the garden for hours. I pray it is the beginning of a friendship that will bridge love and dignity, hope and opportunity to this family that is homeless (they live in a truck outside our house...they just use the motel to go to the bathroom).
The timing was ridiculous, as this week, our church recieved a grant to help enable homeless famlies to defeat the evil of the housing obstacle of paying first and last months rent (this IS what keeps most homeless people homeless!) Soo- please join us in praying for this family, that we may journey with them well....

Here is a poem that I wrote in reflection to yesterday:

The little boy said, "mommy, look!"
as he pointed
to the icon of Jesus that hangs on our wall.
You are recognizable...

to the homeless.

The man reached out his hand
squeezed mine
as he said
he wanted "to go to the arms of God"...

to the dying.

The cross swung back and forth
around his neck,
17, sczhiophrenic,
a "teddy bear one moment, beast the next"...

to the lame.

They live, 5 of them,
in a van.
3 children, 2 adults.
night time bathroom breaks are "interesting"...

she says.

They laugh as they 'pop'
open the baby pine cones to see what lies within...
Star and I gaze at one another,
Me- in awe, Her- at ease...

You are recognizable.

The poor show us the hope
that we left at the alter,
with all our crimson
and gold

we took home only the crumbs of your bread.

We merely sip of your blood.
Our gratitude, for what...a slosh?
We sleep warm, we worry much...
while ever still watching those birds in our feeders...

Yet, in YOU they trust... in YOU they are found.

Our backyard went from being a backyar to being a Community Garden!

Hi everyone! well- it has been quite the week already! I am so bummed b/c i am longing to share with you our pictures of the community garden that over 20 people helped to create in our backyard this past Sunday but I can't get the pictures to download! :( STAY TUNED... FOr now, here is a new poem i wrote in reflection of our time:

Memory of the Trees

The morning dew
reflects the memory
of the night sky

stars brightly glittering


Each blade of grass
a family member
in the world of things


blows ever so gently


Birds pluck the petals
that fall to the grass
a new days watering.

Sing us your song...
the sweet one that
arouses our toes to tap

and our pious laws
to clap
and embrace the one

we turn our backs on.

Hello all.... I thought that today I would share a poem with you that I wrote about 6 months ago... I wrote it about my dad and me.

Its as if I saw

His last breath fly

-out into the universe

I saw it in the stars

In the wind it gently

-Evokes my tears

it slipped through my hands

as I leaned in to kiss it

- now I chase it

tackling the slow

melancholies of

-my memories

what was is now

as the child in me

-reaches out to grab

and push the breath

back in

-that it may never end

shoved down my throat

is the ache

-that is building its castle

it crumbles on me

while I search

-to find the remnants

of the picture

before it was ripped

-my tongue cries out

I lick each torn piece

Hands shaking

To put it back together

The gaze

Of each face before me

-Envelops my body

Lifts it to the moon

Where light thins into darkness

And the breeze brings me back

-my breath….

Temma's Marriage

This is a poem that I wrote today as i was reflecting on how hard it is for me to sometimes accept the love of my husband and the love of my God. This is what came out of me as I grappled with this today. I speak of a girl named Temma in it- it's funny because I just can not seem to rid myself of her. I was first introduced to Temma by my friend, Matt about 6 months ago. Temma is the daughter of a famous artist named Tim Lowry. Temma is both physically and mentally impaired and has had to live in this vegatable like state all of her life. Now in her mid 20's, Tim and his wife continue to be the sole caregivers to their adult daughter. Tim experiances his daughter, Temma to be his modern day Mary as in all that he creates, she is his muse. She is in every one of his paintings- often with life happening all around her. Temma has become my modern day Mary too. Today I pictured her at a table with God eating- she looked so angelic as she reached across the table to grab a strawberry. As she did that, I pictured myself under the table scraping up crumbs and then scurring over to a corner to eat of them Butm then Temma held up a mirror to my face and showed me who i was, then i was beckoned to the table to join them, where Temma handed me a strawberry and Jesus washed my feet. Hoe often i feel that it is my job to wash God's feet as i don't allow him to love me... this picture overwhelmed me beyond words...and this is the poem that came from all this...

Please takea moment to check out Tim's work and meet Temma...I pray that she touches your face as she does mine so often : http://www.timlowly.com/resources/temmaonearth.html



TEMMA'S MARRIAGE


The crumb has fallen
it is my feast
in the corner

where I hide

he beckons me to
join...
strawberries dipped in chocolate

disjointing
only knowing
how to pour oil on his feet

wipe with my tears

she sits next to him
his shining muse, Temma
mirror in hand

my face calling back

to allow his kiss
tenderly
to wet my feet

as i suckle sourly-sweet red delights...
cock my head back with laughter
to heavy to hold...

My Breakfast: a big spoonful

"What if Christ lives in us, in the world-not barely, not like an idea or a metaphor, but like a breath. What if the love and grace of God is something that is radically present to all our senses. Maybe not as present to our rational minds, and yet all the time keeping us alive- as Jean-Luc Marion suggests, a presence so enormous, so permeating, so thorough, that it's often mistaken somehow for abscence."
-Debbie Blue

It's just time...

I was inspired today...

A few of us gathered in my living room, amidst tea, strawberries, chocolate, a baby's gurgling and betty megge's licking to bring a dream to fruition. This dream is to create a community garden in my backyard... A garden that will bring together people from all walks of life to tend to this land that we have been given, to harvest a crop- together- in the midst of what the city's inhabitants consider an eye-sore. We, the people of this area, would like to inspire our community by creating beauty and nourishing our souls and bodies through our tilling, planting,watering and gleaning. We will eat together back here , in just a few short months- under the gleam of the sun...and it will be good. Now, this is truly the church.

And I am in awe...

So- I have been gazing out my window thinking...

I must write.

And i write often.

It is time for me to share the trappings of my soul with you, so that we may grow together and be connected.... That's why I want to do this...Because I need you, and so- I must believe that you need me too..

So- in this- are bits of me...
And all of this... is worship.

Planting the pieces of me

The sun is starting to shine

As I pull open the blinds

Of my own unhappiness

Wind chills me

And I remember

Shivering

When I was young

The windows open

Sweet smell of moisture

Droplets falling

Plop.

My tongue- the catcher of these dreams.

That were

That are

Amidst all of this

To say thank you

Is to pray.

Is to breathe…