Friday, October 31, 2008

Pod. Fruit. Plant.

Plant grasps fruit tightly.

For a time- then it must release.

Fruit grasps seed tightly.

For a time- then it must release.

Life is holding on and letting go.

This is growth.

Lord, help me know

when to hold on, and when to let go.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

The Days Slip Away Like...

Thursday already! The combination of leaving a little late and the shorter days had me driving home at sunset tonight. It was lovely to see the clear, autumn sky and all the headlights rounding those concrete curves, and the city traffic lights twinkling merrily at twilight. The arch was partially illuminated against the dark sky.

Sometimes I forget the wonder of living in the city, but when I'm approaching a bridge just as a Union Pacific train chugs across, I think of my young nephews and how excited they would be. I wish I had more "exploring" time... I think I could zip downtown in five minutes from my current location.

I google-searched “days slip away like”

and here were the top results:

Days slip away like leaves.

My days slip away like a shadow; I wither away like grass.

I let the uncharted days slip away like they should have, and then tonight, just tonight I decided that I couldn’t go on not writing.

If you are reading this, don’t let your summer days slip away like I did.

Or maybe just living instead of watching the days slip away like they don’t mean anything.

School days slip away like a greased weasel now.

But good days slip away like trout you can't catch, a flash of silver and they're gone.

Alas, the days slip away like water in our hands and we discover that our resolve has dissolved, and we have failed to make good on any of those resolutions.

The calendar on his computer informs him that the days slip away like those rubbery children toys filled with water.

And without him, the days slip away like molasses.

Days slip away like a cloud drifting over the ocean, Quietly unnoticed, muted above the sea.

Some days slip away like early morning mist being burned off by the late morning sun.

The days slip away like water into roots.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

This One's For My Mama

Because she wanted me to take the Flokati rug:

Here it is. The cat, of course, loves it's natural woolliness... perfect for cozy fall and winter. Happy mom?

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Rainy Tuesday Morning

Rain and coffee fragrance the air this morning. Outside my window is an explosion of gray and green... one of the rainiest years in St. Louis history, no wonder autumn hasn’t set in yet. The plants retain their bright bits, though a few hints of orange and yellow are starting to show up. It will probably be a lovely fall.

I’m struggling lately. I’m struggling in knowing how to keep going in the mundane stress of it all, the stress of same problems, different day. My work days are a blur of people and their problems. That’s what I’m there for, a sounding board and support for problems. The administration is changing. There’s a hope for change, that deficiencies will be addressed. There are fears that the old guard will continue to make the same mistakes, continue to ignore the same issues.

I’m praying right now. I’m praying for work and for my own life. I feel so stuck, so trapped. It’s not that I’m really trapped, it’s just that I’m powerless to make the changes I would like to see. So if that’s the case, either God will move me on, or he will help me stay here (and be changed in the process). I’ve been begging God to help me. I think that’s an ok place to be.

It's not that I'm not ok in this place; it's just that it's hard. And the changes I would like to see are not that clients stop having problems. I would just like to be personally moving and changing more towards my goals right now. If I felt my own life was not mired in deep mud, maybe I’d have more to offer clients. But the funny thing is I think I might be more supportive, compassionate and understanding even while I’m in the middle of my own frustrations. Because I understand what it is to have no answers. I understand that it’s not necessarily spiritual deficiency to struggle. In fact, it’s part of the path. Accept and cry out, or deny and refuse comfort in this moment.

I’ve had a friend ask “Have you prayed about it? Then why don’t you have peace?” Sounds simple, ridiculously simple. I don’t think it’s that simple. I don’t think it’s “push the prayer button and be flooded with peaceful, easy feelings.” Like a vending machine. But mysteriously, there is an underlying support and comfort in crying out to God. And at various moments, I do feel his Spirit meet me, nourish me. But there’s still the wrestling. And maybe that’s just my nature, to wrestle. But there it is.