Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Wordless Wednesday - Snuggle Buddies
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Lonely Girl
In all the deep-cleaning we were doing last week, I came across my old poetry journal. You know I just had to stop everything I was doing and look through the pages, and in doing so I realized two things.
#1: I wrote some very depressing stuff.
#2: I wasn't very good at it.
Part of me, the part that remembers how purportedly intelligent and "gifted" I was in my younger years, is embarrassed. Almost embarrassed enough to chuck the thing into the woodstove to ensure that no one else ever reads it. And yet, I know I will do no such thing. Because another part of me, a surprisingly large part, not only remembers that lonely young girl, it realizes an undeniable truth.
I still am that lonely young girl.
Sitting here at the ripe old age of forty-one, I can look beyond the years back to that miserable little teenage girl and see her with perfect clarity. There she goes, scurrying down the hallway like a frightened mouse surrounded by traps, trying to navigate her way through a sea of humanity without making contact with it. Shoulders hunched, books clutched to her chest like a shield, she silently passes through the crowd of light and sound like a silent shadow. Her eyes are kept downcast lest anyone see the desperate pain of sheer longing she fancies would show...if anyone would be bothered to look. Her hair is un-stylish, her clothes unflattering. She has neither the means nor the skill to change either. In a world of Saks Fifth Avenue sweaters and Gucci handbags, she will always be an outsider.
I'm about a million miles away from that world now, but that girl still lives and breathes inside me.
#1: I wrote some very depressing stuff.
#2: I wasn't very good at it.
Part of me, the part that remembers how purportedly intelligent and "gifted" I was in my younger years, is embarrassed. Almost embarrassed enough to chuck the thing into the woodstove to ensure that no one else ever reads it. And yet, I know I will do no such thing. Because another part of me, a surprisingly large part, not only remembers that lonely young girl, it realizes an undeniable truth.
I still am that lonely young girl.
Sitting here at the ripe old age of forty-one, I can look beyond the years back to that miserable little teenage girl and see her with perfect clarity. There she goes, scurrying down the hallway like a frightened mouse surrounded by traps, trying to navigate her way through a sea of humanity without making contact with it. Shoulders hunched, books clutched to her chest like a shield, she silently passes through the crowd of light and sound like a silent shadow. Her eyes are kept downcast lest anyone see the desperate pain of sheer longing she fancies would show...if anyone would be bothered to look. Her hair is un-stylish, her clothes unflattering. She has neither the means nor the skill to change either. In a world of Saks Fifth Avenue sweaters and Gucci handbags, she will always be an outsider.
I'm about a million miles away from that world now, but that girl still lives and breathes inside me.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Pressed, Not Crushed
I have to keep this brief and to the point. I took a pretty nasty fall outside yesterday afternoon and injured my left arm. I didn't break anything, thank the Lord, but it was bad enough that I almost passed out twice before getting back in the house. Fortunately, my husband was nearby when it happened and able to help me.
For now, I've got limited mobility in my arm. I can bend at the elbow fine, but using my bicep to move my upper arm is completely out of the question. As I sit here typing this out, I've got my elbow propped on my thigh so my hand is level with the keyboard. I can't put it on the arm of my chair without massive pain (and I've had plenty of that in the past 24 hours, thank you very much!) Even propped this way, I can feel the muscle being pulled, so I can only pull this off for brief moments.
October was such a rough month for us, it almost seems fitting that it would've ended this way. As it stands, we've been without transportation for three weeks and counting. And unless you live in a big city with plenty of public transportation, you can imagine how difficult life is with no car. And that's only the most obvious of our problems.
It would be so easy for me to wallow in despair over our hard circumstances right now, but when I think about the trials we're facing I can't help but remember these words:
"We are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." 2 Corinthians 4:8-9
For now, I've got limited mobility in my arm. I can bend at the elbow fine, but using my bicep to move my upper arm is completely out of the question. As I sit here typing this out, I've got my elbow propped on my thigh so my hand is level with the keyboard. I can't put it on the arm of my chair without massive pain (and I've had plenty of that in the past 24 hours, thank you very much!) Even propped this way, I can feel the muscle being pulled, so I can only pull this off for brief moments.
October was such a rough month for us, it almost seems fitting that it would've ended this way. As it stands, we've been without transportation for three weeks and counting. And unless you live in a big city with plenty of public transportation, you can imagine how difficult life is with no car. And that's only the most obvious of our problems.
It would be so easy for me to wallow in despair over our hard circumstances right now, but when I think about the trials we're facing I can't help but remember these words:
"We are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." 2 Corinthians 4:8-9
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