love spells death

there's a lot of rancor swirling around, isn't there? a lot of anger, some justified but most not, a lot of vitriol and hate, talk of revenge and name-calling and just pure meanness. sometimes i feel like i am being smothered in it.  accusations and rumors, wars, divorces of both spouses and friends ... frustration and fury seem to march side by side along every path. christians are not exempt from this, not at all. let's be honest:  in some arenas we are worse.

i am rereading a book right now - one of my absolute "must read" recommendations" - and something he says in the opening interview of the book struck me like a thunderbolt. this author is not a poet or a reclusive scholar-priest, but the son of a russian diplomat, raised in persia during the russian revolution, shipwrecked in gibraltar, gypsied across europe in poverty, eventually teaching math, chemistry and latin to pay for his education as a doctor. he became a french citizen, joined the revolution and served in WWII as both a surgeon and a revolutionary. he secretly took monastic vows because you could not be both a monk and a doctor. he is no dusty couch potato.

"so often when we say 'i love you' we say it with a huge 'i' and a small 'you'. we love as a conjunction instead of it being a verb implying action. it's no good just gazing out into open space hoping to see the Lord; instead we have to look closely at our neighbor, someone whom God has willed into existence, someone whom God has died for. everyone ... has a right to exist, because he has value in himself, and we are not used to this. the acceptance of otherness is a danger to us, it threatens us. to recognize the other's right to be himself might mean recognizing his right to kill me. but if we set a limit at his right to exist, it's no right at all. Love is difficult. Christ was crucified because he taught a kind of love which is a terror for men, a love which demands total surrender: it spells death."

'beginning to pray' by anthony bloom is actually a book about prayer - shocker! - but this little bit from the prologue seemed particularly appropriate to our time. nevermind the idea of someone who would want to kill you; how are you, how am i, doing at accepting the right to exist of people who believe differently, vote differently, love differently? are we willing to look right in their eyes, face to face, and say, "God willed you to exist, and you have intrinsic personal, human value." can we say, with any degree of honestly, "your otherness is ok with me. i will love anyways." are we living at all a Love which is a verb?

bob ross & me

i have a struggle... don't we all... and for the last several months my struggle has been harder than usual. it has reached a point where my girls have noticed & said something about it to curtis. while i hate that they are affected, i am glad they know our family can talk about stuff.

anyway, last night they were on a trip to michael's, and came home with a surprise for me... you know i love presents... and look what they came home with! a hour long bob ross instructional technique video and a little set of oil paints & palette knives! i love bob ross! and painting is one of the truest respites from the world that i know...

it takes me completely out of my self and my life and lets me forget that i even exist. i can't wait to learn how to paint the "grandeur of summer" with bob ross!

and just because it makes me happy, here's a little song to brighten your morning. 

i'm just not that cool

so last night, after working all day on my feet - working hard, too ... it was so busy! - i went to the delta rae  show in carborro at cat's cradle. they are really good, by the way. but doors at 8, show at 9... which obviously that means that delta rae didn't come on til after 11. and if you've not been to cat's cradle, it's one of those venues where everyone just packs in, sweaty & hot, as close as they can to the stage and there are no seats. no. seats. it is very hard to enjoy the show when you just wish you were in bed, you know? plus no one even tried to grope me or sell me weed. sigh. i'm just not that cool.

but kyra is. meg was at a sleepover last night when her new, paid for all by herself, american girl doll came. so kyra went through all meg's doll stuff, pulled out all the birthday party gear from the licensed american girl doll party kit and set all of meg's other dolls up under a big "happy birthday cassie" banner, with a spread of plastic cake & treats, so that when meg got home and unwrapped cassie everyone could have a big time. it was truly, truly one of the sweetest things. kyra is cool like that.

lastly, look at the cool table curtis made for me from an old window out of the asbury chapel that my dad saved for me! isn't it gorgeous? i am waiting for the paint to dry on the legs, and then i'm going to spend some quality time distressing them... it's going to be fabulous!

love letter to my body

i'm not normally a "joiner", but i saw this  today, and it struck me as something i needed to do. so here goes.

My (dear?) Body,

I am writing to you under protest...but you already know this, and I would rather not try to start healing our relationship by telling you lies.

I don't love you. Yet. But for the first time, maybe I'm willing to try. 

I hide you, disguise you, despise you for not being flawless. But you have never betrayed me. I have been carried by your strength and health without bothering to notice or to offer thanks. You have embodied more Love and Grace than I ever imagined a body could. But I have been blind to your beauty, willfully, turning my head away from mirrors and rejecting gentle hands reaching out to run along my skin. Somewhere along the line, I bought the lie that I should not love you, and that I wasn’t worthy to be loved, because you are not smooth or taut… that you & I are somehow less.

How can I learn to love you, to make us friends and lovers instead of enemies? How do I stop fighting you at every reflection, every meal, every touch?

Maybe you are not less. Maybe you are more.

That scar, maybe it means that Love lives in you. Those lines, maybe they mean we have laughed hard and smiled at strangers. That cellulite, maybe it marks feasts and celebrations with family & friends, babies carried and born, wine and joy and chocolate licked off beaters and not ignorance or shame. What if the curve of our hip and rounded waist are the wondrous mark of a life gifted with plenty and not lack?

I am ready to learn how to love you. I am tired of fighting against you…I want to know what it’s like to have peace between us. I want to live into your strength and beauty, however faltering my first steps may be.

Sincerely, with affection,

me

maybe this is sabbath?

i needed today. picture this:

a quiet morning, sleeping in and home alone. a happy family tumbling in from happy church, delicious leftovers no one had to cook. a new plastic kiddie pool in the yard, under a gorgeous sunny sky, filled with dog and balls and girls and laughter. laying out with magazines & homework & the breezy trees for company. sweaty tendrils of hair escaping ponytails; spiders, bees, ants and a nest of baby mice all duly noted & examined.

it was almost like they were little again. almost like i still stayed home with my Girls and experienced life alongside them rather than in half-told stories around the dinner table and across the house. it was very nearly perfect.

The Girls

tonight is meg's birthday eve... tomorrow she will be 12 years old. gosh - time flies!

many weeks ago, as we were walking the dog around shelley lake, we passed a group of people fencing in the park (weird) and meg said, "oooh! i want a sword for my birthday!" she spent the rest of our walk talking about it... and kyra leaned over to me and whispered that she wanted to get meg foam swords for her birthday. later that night, she came to my room to exult that she had found in the book her uncle gave her for christmas - a guide to immaturity - directions for how to sword fight!

just now, with very little prodding, kyra gave meg her gift a night early - 2 foam swords, the directions (ripped out of the book), and a band aid.

so i am sitting on my deck, after a birthday eve meal of hotdogs roasted over the firepit, watching my girls sword fighting, laughing their heads off, with much "hyah!" and "hoh!" and "hawah!" - ing, saying things like, "jump! i'm going to swipe under you now!" or "after we circle, we're going to clash 15 times and you're going to get my head and i'm going to get your feet!" as a matter of fact, meg just said, "we're going to be professionals by the end of the night!" to which kyra replied, "i know!" :) it's hilarious. and wonderful. sometimes they can't even stand up they're laughing so hard. joy and friendship radiant from them, and more than anything, that's what i'm grateful for.

today was a long day, not entirely what i had felt like i needed, but this is the kind of moment that brings a little bit of healing into me. kyra said she's going to get curtis to video it on her phone, and if it makes it to my email, i'll post it for your enjoyment. :)

one more reason

here's the thing. there needs to be more parties. more celebrations. they don't need to be big, but they need to be more frequent. we don't take enough time to create joy in our lives!

i love parties. i love to celebrate people and events and nothing at all... i love that you guys dressed to the hilt last night and brought food and laughed and stayed and made the night something festive and wonderful. i love that all the wine was sipped and the margarita bucket emptied and the wood for the fire consumed. i love it all. and i love you guys. you are my people. you make my life rich. which is a whole separate reason to celebrate.

my next party is going to celebrate you... it's gonna be fabulous!
<3 rae