Humility

I guess because I want to write a poem about advent and I'm thinking of Jesus' birth, I am also giving a lot of thought to humility. I still can't shake that Bonhoffer quote, and I think it says much about humility too. Because it clearly displays the reality that we are ALL subject to the door being opened from the outside. The poor understand this. The sick understand this. Those who feel like they've screwed up and failed understand this. I am certain that God wants us to understand this. We have nothing without him. We are nothing without him. If we think we do and we think we are, then we don't know much at all. It is by God's grace that we are humbled.

I was praying for a friend today because she is having a difficult time handling all of her responsibilities. She feels completely overwhelmed. She is a dear friend, and I frequently try to help come up with answers, with a plan. And those aren't bad things, but sometimes it's not the time for answers or a plan. I think sometimes God wants us to live with the state of chaos and difficulty, so that we can know reality. That we are powerless, but God draws near anyway. He is not drawn to our ability to do anything for ourselves. He comes to us because we need him. Every day is advent...God with us, God drawing near.

Wordpool for Advent

I recently read a Dietrich Bonhoffer quote that made a big impression on my thoughts about advent. Here's the quote: "A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes... and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent." --Dietrich Bonhoeffer

That made me want to write an advent poem, so I'm starting a wordpool.

Flesh
Waiting, anticipate, await
shepherds
abide
word
dwelt
baby, birth, cry, arrive

More later...

Winter

I am not winter's biggest fan. Not by a longshot. In fact, last winter I reached a despair so deep that I genuinely didn't know whether spring would ever come. That was, of course, far more than a hatred of winter. It was a conspiracy of problems and issues coupled with a long and desperately cold and snowy winter. By March I didn't believe in sunshine or flowers.

This winter I am trying to stay ahead of the curve. I am taking Shiloh outside for a little bit every day that it's warm enough to do so. Sunshine makes a difference. I am turning more lights on. I am trying to be more honest -- with myself and others. Perhaps more importantly, I am trying to appreciate the beauty that winter offers. The sunrises and sunsets. The silhouetted trees. The sweep of the landscape. The birds.

I love spring and summer, and I deeply appreciated them this year; but as I've been driving around recently, I feel like I've been appreciating the beauty more than summer's beauty. Perhaps because I'm so desperate to keep myself from slipping into that desperate place. But also perhaps it's easier to notice the beauty when things are more stark. Just a thought. I think I'll ponder that one a bit more.

Perspective

Lately I've been trying to keep life in better perspective, and (big surprise!) it genuinely helps. It's funny how you can "know" something but not really know it. And that's how it's been with me and perspective. But I guess it was my time for a change, because two things met together and resulted in this change in perspective.

The first thing that happened is I went to a funeral for a young woman, a mother of three. We hadn't seen her in years, since she was a teen. I felt incredibly devastated for her children but also for her...not being able to be there and guide her children into adulthood. But from every account, she did not complain and she did not ask "Why?" during the eight and a half years she battled brain cancer. In fact, she asked, "Why not me?" I left her funeral truly ashamed of myself. I always ask why. Why is my washing machine broken? Why is there a leak in my basement? Why does my car need to be repaired? Why are my kids sick? Why have things been so hard for so long? Why do I have financial problems? Why? Why? Why?

As I was mulling all of this over, I read a story about a place in Africa where woman have been routinely and systematically raped. They can't leave their homes to find food for their children without a good likelihood of being raped. I can't possibly conceive of living in such circumstances, of being presented with such a dilemma day after day. The need to get food for your children balanced against the strong possibility of being raped. Again. How can this be? How can the world contain such evil?

Somehow these two situations collided in my mind and produced a healthier perspective on life. If my kids get sick, at least i am here with them, to take care of them and comfort them. If my appliances or car need to be repaired, well, at least I have appliances and a car. At least I can go to the store and get the food I need for my family without the fear of being raped. And I have money for food. I have that. I'm hoping this new perspective sticks around.

Working On It

Today I am working on the text for a children's book. Not the one about the seasons, but another one that came out of nowhere...about the things that happen while a baby sleeps in his crib.

When I'm done, I may put it up here. Or maybe not.

I love the language of children's books, the lilt and inflection. The poetic nature of the text. This is fun.

Nurturing Gifts

A month or two ago, Shiloh and I went to visit some friends -- a mom and her young children. She was telling me about her (and her husband's) struggle to decide whether to have more children. They are both artistic people and want to have time for those pursuits. They are also excellent parents who really pour into their children's lives. It is difficult to choose a smaller family when so many people in our circle choose to have bigger ones. It can feel like there's a subtle pressure to have more and more children, although I don't think there's a person who would say, "You should have more children."

I said I thought she should look at her art as a child to be nurtured. The more real children you have, the less time you have for each one. If you want to make room in your life for art, time is required. Children require a huge investment of time...but don't our talents and gifts too? Isn't it actually wise of this woman to keep her family small so she can have time for both her children and for her art? It seems wise to me.

For the longest time, I thought I needed the perfect conditions to write every day. I now realize that what I need is determination. There are no perfect conditions; if I wait for them, I will never write a novel..or much of anything else. The good news about this is that I am a determined and disciplined person. So...game on.

A Board Book Challenge

Books meant everything to me when I was a child, and I want them to mean so much to my children too. It seems like children's literature isn't what it used to be, though. Not to sound like some old curmudgeon. But what can possibly top Goodnight Moon and The Big Red Barn when it comes to stories for little people. I actually quote them to Shiloh as I put him to bed. The words paint a vivid picture and the lyrical nature of the words makes her stories easy and fun to read.

I would love to write board books worth remembering. Lyrical and magical; fun for kids and parents. I'm thinking of a series of books (four to be exact) about the seasons. So this is my challenge. Four board books to work on during this 365 day challenge.

This Poem Is Better

Archeology of Grief

I am sifting time
searching for relics of you
in fragrances
and moments remembered
in tokens I can hold in my hand

But love
is like a breeze
or a gale
No tight grasp
can hold it

I find you now
in gifts I give
in kissing the neck
of a boy you never met
in his hand slipped in mine

Collecting Words

I love the book Poemcrazy, and I return to it again and again. In one of the first chapters, the author talks about her passion for collecting things -- including words. She discusses the value of creating wordpools. From those pools, poems can spring up because words always carry meaning.

Here are some words I love:
swagger, swelter, swish, swoon
whisper, welt, wisp, wonder
frost, fragment, fracture, frontier
flame, flash, fluid, fluctuate
strike, strum, stilts, stab
avarice, acrimony, admonish, acorn

That boy
once an acorn
all baby blues and tow-headed
clinging to his mama's side

Now a tree, grown
he strums a guitar
with swagger
writing lyrics that pierce

His future, a frontier
I will let go
He will find his way

This is a horrible poem. I actually accept that. My poems usually just arrive, can't really be forced, which is what I've done here. But this is the experiment. I will play with words. Sometimes it will be magical, and other times it will be like today.

A Writer Writes

A writer writes, or at least that's what they say. But this writer has hardly written in years, except for work, and I'm not counting that. I have told myself that everything gets in the way: work, laundry, childcare, exhaustion. You name it, it prevents me from writing. Now I realize that the only thing that prevents me from writing is me. I stand in the way of my own success, and by success I simply mean the act of writing itself. Not getting anything published. If I can get myself to write every day for a year, then I figure a fire will be lit...one that will keep burning with regular tending.

A few unrelated incidents struck the match. Someone died. I've been thinking about doing a 365 project, but the only one I can imagine involves words. One of my boys returned to school after being homeschooled for over two years. I'm reading Half Broke Horses, a pretty inspirational little biographical novel. And I am attempting to recover from a pretty severe state of codependency, so I am trying to make some things happen -- things I can actually make happen.

What I can do is gather words. Arrange them. Say a few things. Write some poems. Develop some characters. Start some stories. See what wants to burn a little brighter.

What I can do is discipline myself. So here I am. Ready to write some words and inspire myself, if no one else. Ready to start some fires.