thoughts

I wanted to write about Francesca today. About her death, and suicide, and how none of it makes sense and how painful it is for those left around and how death always seems to do that. But…I cant do it yet. So today I will talk about one of my favorite subjects…suburbia. The burbs and I have a love hate relationship. I recently moved home to my mother and new stepfathers house in preparation to leave again for the mission field. I moved from my quaint little one bedroom apartment in Grandview. I was an urban dweller. When I say my apartment was quaint I mean it was old, overpriced, and had little amenities. Moving home I remembered just how much I hated the suburbs, with their SUVs full of soccer moms on their way to republican rallies or the newest mega mall. Soon after settling in I realize there is a lot that I love about the burbs. Its those small details that I have come to an appreciation for. Air conditioning. I know this seems like a dumb thing but myself as well as all the friends’ apartments I frequent are lucky to have a single window unit to cool the entire space. This makes one quite used to a constant glaze of sweat on the forehead and uncomfortable moments in the middle of the night when you throw all the covers off yourself in what hot rage. It is one of the most calming feelings to walk into a clean white walled house set at a constant ambient temperature of 71 degrees. ….also grass. Well maintained, green endless spanses of grass. Im talking about the kind of grass that collects perfect little dew drops in the morning that you walk through to get the paper and curl your toes in. i love the smell of people cooking out and the smell of bonfires in backyards

death

yesterday i was thinking about hope today...death. i got a text at 530 this morning from michele. my phone was in my pocket and i could hear it but was at work. later i looked down, flipped the phone open to see this text... "i dont know if your working or not, call me. francesca commited suicide." my mouth dropped to the floor. i call michele immediatly to find out that she had hung herself in the middle of the night. her boyfriend john found her. her kids were at her parents. i cant begin to wrap my brain around this. or write any deep thoughts. my thoughts have left me

hope

there is hope.

hope that when i hang up my hats of work and duty and unnecessary responsibility i will see you.

hope that when i stand at the edge of the field and look back at the wheat blowing that i will feel the wind.

hope that the infant innocence still exists in me buried below layers of age

hope that my ears will be open to listen with gentleness and patience.

hope that my grip will loosen until my life is no longer mine.

hope that the beautiful will  bless with peace

and the ugly bestow compassion

and i will trust to walk tightrope without the comfort of a safety net.

reach out and touch faith

there is beauty in the garden. open up your eyes and see it. 

a letter to my father

dad,

so much time has passed since i last saw you, but at times it feels like time has stood still. so much has changed since that day we put up the christmas tree and laughed about all the little bald angels julie and i made for it as kids and how much our christmas' were like that chevy chase movie.  words cannot express how much i wish i could just sit and talk with you again...

thank you for the roses dad. you know that rose bush you planted in the front flower beds. it has grown enormous and every year on my birthday they bloom. i tell everyone that dad brought me roses for my birthday. julie, mom, and i cut some and brought them to your grave today. as i stood there i thought of you. .. of how my hands are exactly like yours ..how you used to wave to me from across the room. your good days...your sick days...the days before the sick ones. our trips to the ocean...the time you pulled me and the neighbor girl out of the snow between our yards. i get mad when i think of the fact that i will not have you walk me down the aisle, to hold my first born child, to watch me fully become an adult...but then i think ...i have had more of a dad for 21 years then many people i know will have in a lifetime. its what can be so painful sometimes but also a sense of joy. i know sometimes when i walk around ...or at least for once am aware of it, that you see me. if you see me tonight..know that i love you and am wishing you a happy fathers day.

just dont open the fridge

juice is my new "best friend".

the fast day one

i am planning on fasting for a week. ihavent fasted in years. my will power is almost non existent. i want to document this so i can get the most out of this and remember. i hope that this fast will bring me closer to the Lord. I feel like i have spiritually put in the earplugs and do not regularly hear the Lord.