Good Friday 2014

My heart, vacant and desolate
As the host-less tabernacle;
Veiled in black as the crucifix.

I am moved in remembrance
Of the depths of beauty and complexity
Of the human spirit.

In the wake of this weighty hopelessness,
Humanity's Good Friday,
I remember resurrection.

St. Andrew's Abbey Cemetery

Lives like seedlings sewn in wait,
The mountains, these their keepers.
A deathly stillness that is not dead,
Their silence the substance of symphonies.
These holy ghosts whisper life.

November 5th 1999

I still remember this day, exactly 13 years ago. I remember the smell of the hospital mixed with the smell of flowers. I remember family members squeezing into a smallish room. I remember my uncle making some comment on how song lyrics used to be much less complicated and then quoting the Beatles' "I love you, yeah yeah yeah." I remember seeing my Grandfather cry inconsolably. I remember standing in a circle around my Grandmother's hospital bed. I remember holding her hand. I remember what her last breath looked like. I remember saying the Lord's Prayer while holding hands with my family around her bed after she left.

I haven't really talked about this memory much. This was one of my first experiences with death, at 11 years old, and it was terrifying and sickening. I wrote this date down in my little kitten diary, though, so I would never forget it.

I'm wondering now if I should post this - it's a bit morose and personal. I was intending to write more about my gratitude to Eleanor for mothering my own Mother, who in turn so wonderfully mothered myself, Jenny, and Louis with such profound wisdom, compassion, joy, whit, and skill.

And oh how I miss Grandma's yellow kitchen, that blue room, that den, that bookshelf with unlimited Dr. Seuss books, that living room with the spinning clock on the TV, and that dining room with all the pictures and the candy dish. What a magical, magical place.

"Blessed be the true life that the pauses between its throbs are not death" -G.Mac

I wish the pauses between my "life throbs" were not so deathly. Furthermore, I wish my life would not throb so sporadically. Furthermore, I wish my life's heart rate would speed up a bit.

And yet, in response, I recall these words spoken by MacDonald's Mr. Raven: "A man is as free as he chooses to make himself, never an atom freer."

"My heart leaps up when i behold"

I am a storehouse of interesting things to blog about currently. If I am not careful, they will all spew out in this blog post. Here's to being careful...

Today was quite the eventful one. One of those with a vast array of contrasting events, emotions, people, and extraordinary experiences.

Brianna-my pseudo-sister, other-half, and a little piece of home-was with me in Seattle.



Brianna and I went to a place neither of us have been to: Discovery Park. Our excursion was thoroughly enjoyable. There's a lighthouse too!




As we were walking back to the parking lot, unknowingly enjoying ourselves by making various rhythms with our stomping, we approached a very broken-into car. As I proceeded to freak out, we discovered that ALL of Brianna's luggage and both of our purses were stolen out of the trunk of the car. Literally hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of Bri's stuff was stolen. We filed a police report, during which we learned that there were two other reports within the past few hours of cars broken into. Oh good. We eventually got Bri to the airport, thanks to a nice friend in Seattle, who drove us and loaned Bri some money to change her flight. As BriBri is talented at haggling, she talked her way onto her plane without any form of ID and is now safely home.

After that drama, I decided to de-stress at a coffee shop and start on David Copperfield (since my MacDonald treasury is in my stolen purse!!) During my time sipping coffee and reading/talking with random people, it began to snow! Fremont magically transformed into a winter wonderland within hours.

So naturally, I took a midnight walk around my neighborhood. Oh the loveliness! How peaceful and silent everything is. And the crunch beneath your feet. And flakes on your eyelashes. And whirling white everywhere. My walk was delightful.

As you can see, the horror and violation of being stolen from, was drastically contrasted with the magic and delight of snowfall. From shock to enchantment in a matter of hours.

Perhaps everyone needs one experience of being stolen from to remember how fleeting life and it's material possessions are. Things* rot and are destroyed. Beauty, however...

*I suppose that is easy for me to say, since my stolen things were nothing compared to Brianna's.

What the world needs NOW.

I wish everyone in the world could be loved the way everyone deserves to be loved.

I have been noticing the way in which I (along with everyone else) tend to overcomplicate my life and life goals, when all of it really comes down to love; loving the angry business man I walk past, loving the old lady I sit next to on the bus, loving my co-workers, loving my landlady; loving people for their intrinsic value, but also because they need it. I need it.

Why is it that the one thing everyone truly wants, is the one thing we flee from? We all want to be loved fully, but are afraid to be loved fully.

Lets just all love everyone to the brim and find ourselves loved to the brim in the process, ok?

Ready....go!

Oh, and, yeah....decblopomo fail.

More Life!

When we say we are tired of life, it is death of which we are actually tired.

"Life is so exhausting right now. I need a break."

No, death is exhausting you. You need more life.

"Life is weighing me down!"

No, death is weighing you down.

Those who numb themselves from "life", revert to any form of escapism from "life", or eventually seek death to escape from "life," are escaping to the very thing they are attempting to escape from, which is death.

"Discontent...is the life in us that has not enough of itself, is not enough to itself, so calls for more. He has the victory who, in the midst of pain and weakness, cries out, not for death, not for the repose of forgetfulness, but for strength to fight; for more power, more consciousness of being, more God in him" (MacDonald, Unspoken Sermons, 117).

And in refusing the so-called "repose of forgetfulness," but choosing to fight for life's sake, only then will you and I receive the most fulfilling rest--that of abundant life.

15 of those whose written words have influenced my mind and life the most

In no particular order...

1. George MacDonald

2. Charlotte Bronte

3. J.R.R. Tolkien

4. C.S. Lewis

5. The Apostle John

6. Isaiah the prophet

7. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

8. Madeleine L’Engle

9. Dorothy Sayers

10. Victor Hugo

11. L.M. Montegomery

12. A.W. Tozer

13. Henri Nouwen

14. Annie Dillard

15. Elizabeth Elliot

Rather late than not at all

Since I was a little girl, I have always had this urgent fear of missing out. As a child, I always wanted to do whatever my siblings were doing, be a part of whatever fun they were having with their friends, and stay up as late as I possibly could so as to not miss any potential fun. I remember times when I would come a few minutes late to the dinner table after my family had prayed. Feeling so hurt and distraught that they prayed without me, I made my dad pray again every time. I just couldn't miss out.

And so. I find my entire family (minus the Daddy) is participating in nablopomo. I don't care that I am starting a few days late. I WILL NOT MISS OUT THIS TIME.

And now for a scattered account of nice things that happened today:

As I had the day off, I slept in (glory) and woke up to coveted rays of sunshine pouring into my room. My first thoughts were something like: "oh the possibilities!" After peppermint coffee and scrambled goat cheese/eggs, I proceeded to spend my afternoon productively playing in the mud, that is, planting daffodils. Oh the joy and delight that ensued! This was my first time planting anything! It's just like magic! You dig a hole, place a bulb in it, cover the hole back up, and a living thing springs up out of the ground. How nice to be a catalyst to growth.

The bulbs


The gardener


View of my house from the daffodils



Sitting down on my porch steps with my messy garden hair, muddied jeans, and gardening gloves, I looked out upon the garden in satisfaction. During this particular moment, sissy called. This conversation happened.

My next venture was chocolate chip cookies, during which I talked/not talked with BriBri as Pumpkin Man for two hours on g-chat.

See...




Also, I got some good time with my mom on the phone and another good friend on Skype. I did, as a result of my complete inability to multi-task, burn a batch of cookies, but the rest turned out well. One day they will turn out EXACTLY like my momma's. One day.

I conclude my rather scattered introductory blog post for the month of November....now.

As requested...

The Lovely Apartment!

Reality

Reality ineluctable, rapidly closing in. Forcefully enveloping you, swiftly pushing it's way down your throat, into your lungs. It propels its way into your veins and into your heart so that it pulses through your very body. Inescapable. You cannot run from it. It is within you. It is you.

Resolutions. I has them.

My resolutions for the year 2010...

1) Read through the entire bible
2) Take control of my body with physical activities that make me happy (Rock climbing, hiking, yoga, cardio training - all supplied by Fullerton College, except climbing and hiking which will be supplied by Rock City and the mountains)
3) Journal consistently
4) Dwell on/memorize a bible verse a week
5) Work on improving my prayer life

Brianna's Resolutions for me...

1) Once a week (at least), speak up or be confrontational in a way that I would typically avoid.

2) Don't lose my phone

Some of my goals for the year...

*Read the Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
*Read Harriet the Spy
*Read Brother's Karamazov
*Exhaust my poetry books which lovingly call out to me from my bookshelf
*Engage in creative activity at least once a week
*Pay off credit cards
*Seek out the solace of trees/animals/pretty places more
*Graduate college
*Visit Kansas
*Visit Portland
*Visit Boston
*Learn 3-5 moderately entertaining songs on my ukulele
*Make more music with Brianna
*Expand and deepen in faith
*Move closer toward independence on all levels
*Delight more consistently in things that ought to be delighted in
*Grow steadily upon the foundation of surrender and acceptance-with-joy that was so profoundly and Divinely built in me these past six months.

Joy is a Subtle Elf

The idea of joy has been a subject of inquiry on the forefront of my mind for the past few years. I find myself now in a strange, ever-foreign place in life. My future is more uncertain than ever. A good portion of the hopes and dreams and plans that have been built up for the past three years, are suddenly out of my grasp, unattainable, and perhaps even void. I have little direction as to what the rest of my life is going to look like in terms of career, residence, etc. So many things are uncertain, yet I am okay. Actually, more than okay…I am at peace. Just now as I am pausing from writing a paper (no surprise there), I have realized that I have the beginning budlings (new word) of joy sprouting somewhere in the depths of my Laura-self. What a beautiful discovery! I’m not even sure when this “budling” began to sprout, but I am sure of the exact time the seed was planted. (side note: I apologize for the abundant plant analogies. I am sitting right beside my plant Plant [that’s her name] that Morielle and I have had since sophomore year.)

For the absolute first time in my life, I have been learning to live in a state of surrender. Not an unhealthy fatalism or lack of care in the future. I am beginning to realize that 1) God truly loves me 2) Jesus is returning to purify and restore all of creation unto Himself 3) He wants to use my life for His beautiful, life-restoring purposes 4) my life on earth is short and will end soon 5) God is the only true source of value, worth, delight, and joy, and wants us to delight in Him with every fiber of our being. 6) My life is not my own to twist and choose and plan. My story is God’s—the inventor of love and beauty and all goodness and truth. I am a poor, young, fallible, sinful person. I have found myself to be entirely incapable of wisdom in and of myself and have therefore given myself over to the hands that have formed all things; that have knitted together the intricacies of my very soul. My story is His to create and use.

When I was a sophomore in college, I remember a night alone in my dorm room…actually sitting next to this very plant that is currently emoting green and life at me. I was feeling very frustrated with myself for my lack of joy. I cried out to God in the process and immediately after doing so, I opened up an old journal from high school and happened to flip to a page where I had written John 15: 1-11…

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.”

(And again with the plant analogies…also unplanned)

I am learning to abide in God; the source of all life; the living water through which one will never be thirsty again. I wasn’t seeking joy in and of itself in the process, but to my surprise, the subtle tendrils of joy are now beginning to twine around and in and through my inner being. Joy is indeed a subtle elf. And it starts with the giving up of oneself.

AWAKE, THOU THAT SLEEPEST, AND ARISE FROM THE DEAD!

I love George MacDonald. He is the type of person whom I would love to have as a grandfather or uncle, alongside Lewis and Tolkien. Like Lewis' main character in the Great Divorce, I imagine I will have long and lovely conversations with him in Heaven. I appreciate and deeply relate to his literature due to his romantically poetic language through which he conveys the most profound truths by use of allegorical myth. Much like beautiful music, MacDonald's allegories sing eternal truths to my soul. He is a nice one.

Currently I am reading Lilith, in which a man inherits a house passed down for generations, which has a rather extensive library. This man meets a mysterious sexton, Mr. Raven, who has apparently been the librarian since it has been in existence (at least since the man's great great grandfather possessed the house). The nameless owner of the house follows Mr. Raven through an old mirror in a forgotten chamber into another world, in which the only way out is to go further in. After bringing him to his home, Mr. Raven offers the man a bed to sleep in amongst others who are peacefully sleeping (or dead?), blanketed in the healing rays of the moon. The man reflects to himself, "I thought at first their sleep was death, but I soon saw that it was deeper still--a something I did not know". The sexton also refers to this deathly room as one of the cellars he was placed to watch, adding: "much wine is set here to ripen!--But it is dark for a stranger!"

The man exclaims:

"'But these are all dead, and I am alive!' I objected, shuddering.

'Not much,' rejoined the sexton with a smile, '--not nearly enough! Blessed be the true life that the pauses between its throbs are not death!'"

These people in MacDonald's story are becoming alive by dying. The man in the story seems to be alive, but is more dead than those who seemingly lay in death! He is not really alive--he does not possess the true life, which can only be possesed through the complete giving up and dying to oneself.

"Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" ~Matt 10:39

"We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life" ~Rom 6:4

"AWAKE SLEEPER, AND ARISE FROM THE DEAD, AND CHRIST WILL SHINE ON YOU" ~Eph 5:14

Sometimes I wish that I could enter one of MacDonald's mythical worlds. If only I could stumble my way into the Raven's world to find a bed amongst those who are dying and simultaneously becoming more and more alive until they are wakened to newness of life. However, I can hear what MacDonald would say to me..."Laura, you are in Mr. Raven's world."