When the crispness* of autumn rolls in,
and I can get away with wearing long sleeves again;
when I crack open a good book,
pulled from my old school bag;
when the breeze reaches me from the window,
as a read a precious, handwritten letter;
when I can sit outside the coffee shop in the morning
without the weight of humidity upon me;
when a walk in the park sounds better
than an air-conditioned night with a movie;
when those books keep cracking open
and my journal keeps calling
and my school bag feels so natural on my shoulder
and I develop a strange hunger to learn;
then...
I wish I could be, like you,...
...a student again!
*Although 80 degrees may not define crispness by your standards, it would if you had experienced over 100-degree temperatures just two days before.
9/30/05
hope again
Hope -- it drips down through the cracks of the strong, hard crust I've built about me. It washes my face clean of the tears. When I said, "God, I want to repent, but I don't know if my pride will let me," He said, "I paid for pride on the cross too."
"But," I said, "I don't understand my heart. I don't know what's wrong. How can I repent for that which I don't understand?"
"I understand it."
He understood it. He understands it.
And that's how hope dripped through the cracks and lifted up my eyes.
"But," I said, "I don't understand my heart. I don't know what's wrong. How can I repent for that which I don't understand?"
"I understand it."
He understood it. He understands it.
And that's how hope dripped through the cracks and lifted up my eyes.
good writing
I love good writing, full of intention. I love to read the words of a master of the craft, where every comma, every dash and dot, every adjective and adverb is there because it's supposed to be. Someone once asked me, "You think [so-and-so] means think instead of thank?" Nope. I sure don't. Because if so-and-so's anything like me, every letter is there for a reason, and those passionate, writing-loving eyes scanned -- no, examined -- the work before putting it out there for other people to pick apart themselves.
When one knows the rules of writing, she's entitled to break them. If she doesn't, better stick to the grammar book or only write in secret. That way, the children won't learn bad tricks.
When one thinks she's a master of the craft, she better keep studying. Because as soon as she claims to have all the answers to the world's writing problems -- usually through her lofty tone, the real masters will be on the look-out for her to slip up. And then they'll laugh at her, and probably won't tell her what she's done wrong; they'll just leave her to spin her wheels in the muck of ignorance.
It's not a bad thing to try new techniques. In fact, it's probably good practice. One must always keep in mind, however, that being honest -- being oneself -- is one of the most powerful tools in communicating truth to the rest of the world. I say, don't act like Emily Dickinson or Shakespeare too long; the world will soon tire of the role-playing and go on back to the real masters, hoping their old friend will come along soon.
* * *
When one knows the rules of writing, she's entitled to break them. If she doesn't, better stick to the grammar book or only write in secret. That way, the children won't learn bad tricks.
When one thinks she's a master of the craft, she better keep studying. Because as soon as she claims to have all the answers to the world's writing problems -- usually through her lofty tone, the real masters will be on the look-out for her to slip up. And then they'll laugh at her, and probably won't tell her what she's done wrong; they'll just leave her to spin her wheels in the muck of ignorance.
It's not a bad thing to try new techniques. In fact, it's probably good practice. One must always keep in mind, however, that being honest -- being oneself -- is one of the most powerful tools in communicating truth to the rest of the world. I say, don't act like Emily Dickinson or Shakespeare too long; the world will soon tire of the role-playing and go on back to the real masters, hoping their old friend will come along soon.
9/16/05
like spring
Late summer and the grass was dry
in our backyard-
but we watered it like crazy
and it started greening up again.
It rained yesterday-
rained like crazy.
Help from
both ends,
I guess.
New patches of green are showing now-
like spring-
green against brown.
I guess there's always hope
in our backyard-
but we watered it like crazy
and it started greening up again.
It rained yesterday-
rained like crazy.
Help from
both ends,
I guess.
New patches of green are showing now-
like spring-
green against brown.
I guess there's always hope
9/12/05
worship
If I should sing words-
music
about God-
and let the words
slip by
without meaning-
without letting them touch
my heart-
or God's-
it would be better
if I had not sung them
at all.
music
about God-
and let the words
slip by
without meaning-
without letting them touch
my heart-
or God's-
it would be better
if I had not sung them
at all.
9/8/05
growing pains 2
Yeah, so I was just here, enjoying the view... and then I felt #5 creeping up on me. Ouch! What's up with that? I guess I knew it would hurt a little, but Daddy-Sir, this hurts a LOT! And, for some reason, I thought I was an exception to #9. Nope. I'm not.
i am glad you're happy...
...and I'm not being cynical either. I love to see the relationships in bloom, the passion to serve and praise and love. You know it's all about Jesus, don't you? It shows. It really does.
But you also know it's different here, don't you? It's different in a lot of places. I don't know if it's your job to concern yourself with those "other places," but it might be. It might be.
It's different for a lot of people too. You know some of them, and you talk to them. Do me a favor, won't you? When they ask, when they sneer, when they scoff, when they wipe away a tear, tell them -- please -- that it's different for me.
But you also know it's different here, don't you? It's different in a lot of places. I don't know if it's your job to concern yourself with those "other places," but it might be. It might be.
It's different for a lot of people too. You know some of them, and you talk to them. Do me a favor, won't you? When they ask, when they sneer, when they scoff, when they wipe away a tear, tell them -- please -- that it's different for me.
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