you [intrigue] scare me.
[excited] frightened
i sit trembling in the wake of your laugh.
i make shitty attempts at normalcy
but my words stumble over my tongue
they taste of pure anxiety, of nerves
you race around like mad and my head spins.
[anticipating] unknowing
please [stay] go away
Sunday, January 31, 2010
among these life, liberty, and the pursuit of selfishness
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/30/us/30airlift.html
Thursday, January 21, 2010
thoughts in pictures.
a really bad oh heck hand...
i got a new camera for christmas and have been playing with it. here are some attempts. more to come. editing is taking a while...
i love these two...
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
haiti.
my heart breaks for that country. never before in my lifetime have i felt such an emotional attachment to the utter devastation of another country. i don't know why really. but i have cried so much this week, and it is all for haiti.
i don't know what to pray for.
i don't know what to do.
and it is hard not to believe our helplessness against the situation that just keeps mounting.
i read this article by paul farmer, a man who's ideas i just love. i appreciated the practicality and the clarity with which he writes. i don't know if his thoughts are the answer, but he knows more than i do that's for sure.
the link is below. I highly suggest reading it. It was the first hopeful and future focused article I have read.
but here are some highlights i thought were interesting:
"We cannot give up on improving coordination by dismissing important actors as unable to perform their function. The Haitian people, victims of yet another series of blows, are already helping one another, and many have built up informal networks to help their neighbors in need of food, water, or first aid. The Haitian attitude expressed in the saying, ``If there's enough for two, there's enough for three'' has no doubt saved many lives over the past 72 hours."
"Aid should be coordinated and conceived in a way that shores up Haitian capacity to respond. The planeload of surgeons mentioned above were responding to a call from the Haitian National University hospital. It should be noted that the leadership of that hospital (also surgeons) and the director of nursing have been at their posts for days. They are showing up to work even without the coordination and cash and supplies they need. Identifying such priceless local partners is important for many reasons related to relief and rescue, but it is most important for reasons related to recovery."
http://www.miamiherald.com/news/breaking-news/v-fullstory/story/1429930.html
i don't know what to pray for.
i don't know what to do.
and it is hard not to believe our helplessness against the situation that just keeps mounting.
i read this article by paul farmer, a man who's ideas i just love. i appreciated the practicality and the clarity with which he writes. i don't know if his thoughts are the answer, but he knows more than i do that's for sure.
the link is below. I highly suggest reading it. It was the first hopeful and future focused article I have read.
but here are some highlights i thought were interesting:
"We cannot give up on improving coordination by dismissing important actors as unable to perform their function. The Haitian people, victims of yet another series of blows, are already helping one another, and many have built up informal networks to help their neighbors in need of food, water, or first aid. The Haitian attitude expressed in the saying, ``If there's enough for two, there's enough for three'' has no doubt saved many lives over the past 72 hours."
"Aid should be coordinated and conceived in a way that shores up Haitian capacity to respond. The planeload of surgeons mentioned above were responding to a call from the Haitian National University hospital. It should be noted that the leadership of that hospital (also surgeons) and the director of nursing have been at their posts for days. They are showing up to work even without the coordination and cash and supplies they need. Identifying such priceless local partners is important for many reasons related to relief and rescue, but it is most important for reasons related to recovery."
http://www.miamiherald.com/news/breaking-news/v-fullstory/story/1429930.html
Sunday, January 17, 2010
pretaining to brokeness.
I had to sum up my RA experience thus far for an application... (are they kidding me?) This is what I came up with: (including some edits)
My year has not been easy, in any way, but I have learned not to name the situation lightly.
Through my RA experience, I have learned what it means to be truly broken.
....and I mean fragmenting, debilitating, collapsing, ripping.
Recently, I have been hit with the flippancy with which I have used the word “broken.” It's like the way I use my debit card, which is too much regardless of how relative you see it. I say the word without truly understanding the depths of its gruesome meaning, never actually acting out of the rawness and instead expecting myself to perform as one who is whole, one who is healed. I focus on the future, on the reward, and simply rush through the life that has been given to me.
A product of my own culture, I suppose.
For some reason, I cannot recognize that I am part of a sinful humanity and so I consequently experience brokenness. I do not completely admit to it. I look, instead, immediately for the stillness after the storm.
I use the word “broken.” But I do not really intend to dwell in it and accept my imperfection. How often I said, “I feel so broken” and followed, not with a desperate cry for help but, rather with a “ but it’s good, I’m ok.”
In a way, then, I never fully understood, or divulged my complete and utter brokenness. For if I had, I would have stopped filling my broken life with expectations, and stopped assuming its cracks would keep in the water of my presumptions. I would have already been on my shattered knees instead of forcing them to hold the weight of my fast paced attempt to escape. Escape what, I do not know. My humanness, maybe?
All this to say, being an RA has compelled me to honestly accept my pitiful, pathetic, helpless state. And through this I have finally begun to feel a lift away of some sorts from the weight of the burdens on my back. By waiting through the pain, I have begun to truly experience the grace of the Lord. By beginning to accept my imperfection, and my binding, I am washed with His perfect freedom.
I don't know what this means or where this will take me. But that's the excitement of it all.
I guess.
My year has not been easy, in any way, but I have learned not to name the situation lightly.
Through my RA experience, I have learned what it means to be truly broken.
....and I mean fragmenting, debilitating, collapsing, ripping.
Recently, I have been hit with the flippancy with which I have used the word “broken.” It's like the way I use my debit card, which is too much regardless of how relative you see it. I say the word without truly understanding the depths of its gruesome meaning, never actually acting out of the rawness and instead expecting myself to perform as one who is whole, one who is healed. I focus on the future, on the reward, and simply rush through the life that has been given to me.
A product of my own culture, I suppose.
For some reason, I cannot recognize that I am part of a sinful humanity and so I consequently experience brokenness. I do not completely admit to it. I look, instead, immediately for the stillness after the storm.
I use the word “broken.” But I do not really intend to dwell in it and accept my imperfection. How often I said, “I feel so broken” and followed, not with a desperate cry for help but, rather with a “ but it’s good, I’m ok.”
In a way, then, I never fully understood, or divulged my complete and utter brokenness. For if I had, I would have stopped filling my broken life with expectations, and stopped assuming its cracks would keep in the water of my presumptions. I would have already been on my shattered knees instead of forcing them to hold the weight of my fast paced attempt to escape. Escape what, I do not know. My humanness, maybe?
All this to say, being an RA has compelled me to honestly accept my pitiful, pathetic, helpless state. And through this I have finally begun to feel a lift away of some sorts from the weight of the burdens on my back. By waiting through the pain, I have begun to truly experience the grace of the Lord. By beginning to accept my imperfection, and my binding, I am washed with His perfect freedom.
I don't know what this means or where this will take me. But that's the excitement of it all.
I guess.
"and Jesus said: 'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.'"
Matthew 11:28
"Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel... 'I will satisfy the weary soul and every languishing soul I will replenish.'"
Jeremiah 31:23,25
Matthew 11:28
"Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel... 'I will satisfy the weary soul and every languishing soul I will replenish.'"
Jeremiah 31:23,25
Sunday, January 10, 2010
in lieu of sleeping...
i write.
and i listen to billie holiday. her voice soothes my dread for the coming morning, week. well. 16 weeks if we are counting. but who is? not me, certainly.
funny.
Lord. why have you brought me to this place? my knees are scraped and the ground is cold. and yet it burns with a harshness that i cannot begin to describe.
it's strange. seeing people again. some of whom i haven't seen for so long. how will we ever fully catch up? i have to realize that it is impossible, but i want to. oh how i long to. i am so afraid of loosing them, i suppose.
oh Lord.
and i listen to billie holiday. her voice soothes my dread for the coming morning, week. well. 16 weeks if we are counting. but who is? not me, certainly.
funny.
Lord. why have you brought me to this place? my knees are scraped and the ground is cold. and yet it burns with a harshness that i cannot begin to describe.
it's strange. seeing people again. some of whom i haven't seen for so long. how will we ever fully catch up? i have to realize that it is impossible, but i want to. oh how i long to. i am so afraid of loosing them, i suppose.
oh Lord.
"But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair, persecuted but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed... so we do not lose heart. though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. for this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison."
2 corinthians 4
2 corinthians 4
Friday, January 8, 2010
remembrances...
"I have one desire now-to live a life of reckless abandon for the Lord, putting all my energy and strength into it,”
- Ed McCully, in a letter to Jim Elliot immediately after leaving law school to pursue mission work. September 22,1950
Fifty four years ago, today, he and four others recklessly abandoned their lives for the Lord.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
because i am obsessed with this song...
i wrote this for a friend. it's long. but it is something that i have been thinking about over the break.
Dear Jill,
Do you remember that time when you visited me at HoneyRock this past summer? You, Scottie, and I spent an afternoon in that field off of Highway X. We collected wild flowers to make into delicate crowns for our heads of tangled, wind blown hair. It was Sunday, I remember, so we were dressed in skirts and cherished the way the air blew them, tossing them in circles around our knees. We took off our shoes and danced. And for a moment, we were carried back to the carelessness of our childhoods. I will always hold that memory in my heart. It brings much warmth, even now in the hibernation of a Michigan winter.
Some things I distinctly remember about that day was the sky and the car ride, with the windows down and the sounds of Bon Iver blasting over the speakers, our hands feeling the rhythms of currents that swished sweet surprises – up and down, up and down.
I don’t know if we listened to this particular song. But I am sure we did. “Re: Stacks” is one of my favorite of his songs and here are the lyrics
I resonate with this song and it has slowly become an important sound of refuge in my life. In some odd way though, I think we all resonate with this song. He speaks of “stacks”. The stacks are the struggles in our life, the sadness, the heartache. And in some way they are inescapable.
For Justin Vernon, (he’s Bon Iver… I am sure you knew that but I didn’t want you to be like, what? And then have no way to look it up. Well, do you have internet access? I think you do. But just in case. Hmmm.) the song itself is a personal catharsis. I looked it up on the web, and he is quoted to say that the song, in a lot of ways, represents his time in the woods of Wisconsin. I feel like this is his song of self-discovery, of self-realization. It’s not a “crispy realization”, though, or a click of a lock in the door — a clean break from the past. In the final line he says that some of the past’s love will continue with him, like a pendant or a memory that won’t fade. But as the last line hints at, it is not a total new man. Rather it is just the “unlocking and lift away.” To me, it seems as if Justin is saying that we all go through these hardships, but it is not about getting over that and moving on. Instead, we should go through the sadness and reach forward towards wholeness.
Now, I am not trying to spiritualize Bon Iver songs, in any way. Needless to say, I am a full believer in artistic expression’s ability to worship, whether meant to or not. But, I do believe this song points to a poignant part of our spiritual journey.
Like I mentioned above, we are all broken and burdened. And we all have these burdening “stacks” on our backs… “racks” that load. But there is an answer to these stacks.
If we continually try to just get over and move on from our sadness, we begin to forget that we our broken. Our forgetting will lead to a life filled with lies, mirages of healed wounds. Remember, maybe, Anna O’Connor, who spoke to us in chapel during the last few weeks of the semester? She stood before us, beautiful and whole, and yet beneath her pure skin lay a body rippled with cancer. Seventy five percent of it, actually. That is what we become when we try to just “move on” and forget our utter and helpless calamity of humanity. We become façades, wisps, unaware of our actual state.
I think about children and their infatuation with band-aids. Particularly my sister, Annie. When Annie was smaller, younger, any cut or bruise would cause her to fall into fits. She couldn’t stand the pain, however small it was, and she also couldn’t stand looking at the wound. She would beg for her favorite spider man band-aids, even if the cut wasn’t bleeding. For some reason, sticking patterns of a superhero on her skin made her feel batter. It was if the blue and red plastic fabric was the cure all. But band-aids don’t actually heal the wounds. They just cover for a while.
Often, I think, God brings us struggles. I actually don’t know how theologically sound that statement is, but in any case, whether God breathed or simply a result of our fallen humanness, hardship is often spoken of in the Bible and should not only be accepted, but also expected. But who wants to be hurt? In a natural attempt to avoid pain, we end up missing the true path to healing and freedom. Withering away from sadness, we try to be brave by moving on. We don’t want to feel so we don’t. We would rather live life the way we want, than to face the pain in our pasts. And yet, I don’t feel that this gets us anywhere. We may not feel the pain, but it doesn’t leave us, no matter how much we fool ourselves into believing it is gone. And like the song points out, jumping over the pain doesn’t actually lift away.
Rather, we have to meet our brokenness head on like the song sings of, but instead of doing it ourselves, we can rely consistently on the grace He has extended towards our pathetic state of being. By approaching the sadness, we can move towards healing and wholeness, bringing a part of that sadness with us, along for the journey. For it has, honestly, shaped us. Beginning to live with our brokenness will allow us to live in complete awe of the grace, love, and faithfulness of the Christ who died for us. And in the end, it is truly only Him who can begin to free us.
I don’t if it makes sense. But I know it has been an incredibly potent theme in my life. I have been faced time and time again with different struggles. And at first it was easy to just continually push them away, jump over them, forget they were actually there. But as they piled up, I was eventually so heavily burdened with the weight of them all, that I couldn’t move and was literally down on my knees before the Lord. As I began to recognize the “stacks” on my back, the Lord began to lift away. It was certainly painful. It still is. And I still have loads. But the Lord promises goods things to those He loves.
I think of this verse I found at the end of my summer at HoneyRock. I have mentioned before how hard it was for me. Looking back now, I realize I was trying to bear live my life solely by forgetting the load on my back and desperately trying to make it on my own. Consequently this verse hit my square between the eyes:
“Come, let us return to the Lord; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him. Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.” Hosea 6:1-3
No matter how torn down you are, Jill, you will be built up again. But you have to accept what has been brought to you. You have to feel. You have to cry. You have to break. That is only that the Lord can begin to lift away, however the slow the process may be. But take heart! “His going out is as sure as the dawn.”
Always,
Ryn
Dear Jill,
Do you remember that time when you visited me at HoneyRock this past summer? You, Scottie, and I spent an afternoon in that field off of Highway X. We collected wild flowers to make into delicate crowns for our heads of tangled, wind blown hair. It was Sunday, I remember, so we were dressed in skirts and cherished the way the air blew them, tossing them in circles around our knees. We took off our shoes and danced. And for a moment, we were carried back to the carelessness of our childhoods. I will always hold that memory in my heart. It brings much warmth, even now in the hibernation of a Michigan winter.
Some things I distinctly remember about that day was the sky and the car ride, with the windows down and the sounds of Bon Iver blasting over the speakers, our hands feeling the rhythms of currents that swished sweet surprises – up and down, up and down.
I don’t know if we listened to this particular song. But I am sure we did. “Re: Stacks” is one of my favorite of his songs and here are the lyrics
This my excavation and today is kumran
Everything that happens is from now on
This is pouring rain
This is paralyzed
I keep throwing it down two-hundred at a time
It's hard to find it when you knew it
When your money's gone
And you're drunk as hell
On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks are your load
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load
I've twisting to the sun I needed to replace
The fountain in the front yard is rusted out
All my love was down
In a frozen ground
There's a black crow sitting across from me; his wiry legs are crossed
And he's dangling my keys he even fakes a toss
Whatever could it be
That has brought me to this loss?
On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load
This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Your love will be
Safe with me
Everything that happens is from now on
This is pouring rain
This is paralyzed
I keep throwing it down two-hundred at a time
It's hard to find it when you knew it
When your money's gone
And you're drunk as hell
On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks are your load
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load
I've twisting to the sun I needed to replace
The fountain in the front yard is rusted out
All my love was down
In a frozen ground
There's a black crow sitting across from me; his wiry legs are crossed
And he's dangling my keys he even fakes a toss
Whatever could it be
That has brought me to this loss?
On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load
This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Your love will be
Safe with me
I resonate with this song and it has slowly become an important sound of refuge in my life. In some odd way though, I think we all resonate with this song. He speaks of “stacks”. The stacks are the struggles in our life, the sadness, the heartache. And in some way they are inescapable.
For Justin Vernon, (he’s Bon Iver… I am sure you knew that but I didn’t want you to be like, what? And then have no way to look it up. Well, do you have internet access? I think you do. But just in case. Hmmm.) the song itself is a personal catharsis. I looked it up on the web, and he is quoted to say that the song, in a lot of ways, represents his time in the woods of Wisconsin. I feel like this is his song of self-discovery, of self-realization. It’s not a “crispy realization”, though, or a click of a lock in the door — a clean break from the past. In the final line he says that some of the past’s love will continue with him, like a pendant or a memory that won’t fade. But as the last line hints at, it is not a total new man. Rather it is just the “unlocking and lift away.” To me, it seems as if Justin is saying that we all go through these hardships, but it is not about getting over that and moving on. Instead, we should go through the sadness and reach forward towards wholeness.
Now, I am not trying to spiritualize Bon Iver songs, in any way. Needless to say, I am a full believer in artistic expression’s ability to worship, whether meant to or not. But, I do believe this song points to a poignant part of our spiritual journey.
Like I mentioned above, we are all broken and burdened. And we all have these burdening “stacks” on our backs… “racks” that load. But there is an answer to these stacks.
If we continually try to just get over and move on from our sadness, we begin to forget that we our broken. Our forgetting will lead to a life filled with lies, mirages of healed wounds. Remember, maybe, Anna O’Connor, who spoke to us in chapel during the last few weeks of the semester? She stood before us, beautiful and whole, and yet beneath her pure skin lay a body rippled with cancer. Seventy five percent of it, actually. That is what we become when we try to just “move on” and forget our utter and helpless calamity of humanity. We become façades, wisps, unaware of our actual state.
I think about children and their infatuation with band-aids. Particularly my sister, Annie. When Annie was smaller, younger, any cut or bruise would cause her to fall into fits. She couldn’t stand the pain, however small it was, and she also couldn’t stand looking at the wound. She would beg for her favorite spider man band-aids, even if the cut wasn’t bleeding. For some reason, sticking patterns of a superhero on her skin made her feel batter. It was if the blue and red plastic fabric was the cure all. But band-aids don’t actually heal the wounds. They just cover for a while.
Often, I think, God brings us struggles. I actually don’t know how theologically sound that statement is, but in any case, whether God breathed or simply a result of our fallen humanness, hardship is often spoken of in the Bible and should not only be accepted, but also expected. But who wants to be hurt? In a natural attempt to avoid pain, we end up missing the true path to healing and freedom. Withering away from sadness, we try to be brave by moving on. We don’t want to feel so we don’t. We would rather live life the way we want, than to face the pain in our pasts. And yet, I don’t feel that this gets us anywhere. We may not feel the pain, but it doesn’t leave us, no matter how much we fool ourselves into believing it is gone. And like the song points out, jumping over the pain doesn’t actually lift away.
Rather, we have to meet our brokenness head on like the song sings of, but instead of doing it ourselves, we can rely consistently on the grace He has extended towards our pathetic state of being. By approaching the sadness, we can move towards healing and wholeness, bringing a part of that sadness with us, along for the journey. For it has, honestly, shaped us. Beginning to live with our brokenness will allow us to live in complete awe of the grace, love, and faithfulness of the Christ who died for us. And in the end, it is truly only Him who can begin to free us.
I don’t if it makes sense. But I know it has been an incredibly potent theme in my life. I have been faced time and time again with different struggles. And at first it was easy to just continually push them away, jump over them, forget they were actually there. But as they piled up, I was eventually so heavily burdened with the weight of them all, that I couldn’t move and was literally down on my knees before the Lord. As I began to recognize the “stacks” on my back, the Lord began to lift away. It was certainly painful. It still is. And I still have loads. But the Lord promises goods things to those He loves.
I think of this verse I found at the end of my summer at HoneyRock. I have mentioned before how hard it was for me. Looking back now, I realize I was trying to bear live my life solely by forgetting the load on my back and desperately trying to make it on my own. Consequently this verse hit my square between the eyes:
“Come, let us return to the Lord; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him. Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.” Hosea 6:1-3
No matter how torn down you are, Jill, you will be built up again. But you have to accept what has been brought to you. You have to feel. You have to cry. You have to break. That is only that the Lord can begin to lift away, however the slow the process may be. But take heart! “His going out is as sure as the dawn.”
Always,
Ryn
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