the task of today

As the sun rises alive

and sets my thoughts

sparkling

my father plants and harvests

green

to

gold

to

white

the trees grow and give

with each turn I must remind myself

of

mortality

of

possibility

and of

the magic giggling just below the surface.

a smattering

Dear Day of Life,

I am forever impressed at how random, deep, boring, and/or exciting you can be. Somtimes you take forever, and other times you run by me like a sprinter. Thank you for being so ripe. - Ev

A smattering of thoughts from the last 24 hours:

• Is Rob Bell really as crazy as people are making him out to be?
• Why can't I feel as I look at these pictures of Japan?
• It is so light out! Love this time change!
• Do nuns wash their hair under those habits? (while watching Vision at the Ross)
• How is it that I've never listened to Regina Spektor? Love it.
• My husband is fantastic and creative.
• I will never be able to drive a group of 11 people to Colorado on Monday.
• Perhaps I shouldn't order books three at a time on Amazon. . .
• How did I get blessed with friends like these? (while laughing hysterically)
• This egg roll is entirely too spicy for me.
• How is it that I've just now started reading Parker Palmer?
• I should really get writing on that dissertation.
• How can it feel this early at 7 a.m.? Bah you time change.
• Oh birds, how I've missed you.

the dance of balance

I live in the dance of balance between my complete powerlessness and my sense of power.

perhaps

the better way can weigh heavy

until we slowly set it down

and it

lands with a silent Thud.

blinking through two red, wet eyes

for hope this rough patch builds chrysalis

perhaps my wings await

i like it when

I like it when my milk turns all strawberry after the cereal.

Maybe this is silly,

like a ten-year-old,

but I love it,

even at 27.

for what it's worth. . .

I just spent days organizing something, pouring my life into every little detail. This was an event aligned with what I believe. And, YES! it went well, and I received much positive feedback. This is a win! (I thought) as "I'm walkin on Sunshine" seemed to be playing in the background of my thoughts.

Then today I received an e-mail that said, "For what it's worth, my daughter said she liked last year's event better than this year's."

--Record scratch--For what it's worth? Even after all that positive feedback, this negative sentence is what keeps playing over in my head. It felt like a physical kick in the chest. Even as an adult, words can hurt.

Paul says, "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up. . . that it may benefit those who listen" (Eph 4:29).

I don't think we realize how powerful our words are. How those things said to us at the poles, extremely positive or extremely negative, get played back in our minds over and over.

When people remember my words, I want them to smile.

I will be a positive voice.

now I become myself

Now I become myself. It's taken

Time, many years and places;

I have been dissolved and shaken,

Worn other people's faces . . .

-Mary Sarton

There is an old quaker saying, "Let your life speak." I met a woman this weekend who's life wasn't just speaking; it was shouting. I looked at her and saw such a joy.

"I'll have what she's having."

I saw this woman with crazy hair, with shorts, with bad fashion sense, who was standing up in front of the crowd saying so boldly--this is who I am--I'm Heather. She said silly things like, "I spend $60 a month to get my hair this way. I have hundreds of pairs of shorts. My leg muscle and my forearm muscle are so strong, I can beat anyone here at armwrestling. I love nail polish. I'm a good listener. I'm loyal." I know this list sounds like quick shots from a gun, but she wove a humerous story of her identity that I can't begin to recount here. While it seemed at first that she would be all fun and giggles, later in her first session, she came to share a darker time when she wasn't so bubbly. She shared painful stories of her ostracism in junior high.

I found myself thinking of pigeon posters on lockers, and wishing we didn't have so much in common.

At first, I thought, I want to be like her. How can I live a more silly way of life? But as she wove her teaching around her life, I came to see that her appeal lies not necessarily in who she is, but in her popping, smiling embrace of her identity.

It made me wonder what would be on a list of things that are decidedly Evi. (Perhaps I should have figured this out by 27.)

Can I say any one thing about myself so loudly and boldly that I might have Heataher's type of glow. Is the glow simply a reflection of God's glory when we truly embrace all that he has made us to be--reflecting all the things he's built us for? Is there a way I can start to own "me" a bit more.

To make him look at me and go. . . "yes, that's it Ev."

I've always sensed he had a plan for me, as many people do--I know I'm not special in this way. It's just this somewhat life-giving, somewhat terribly annoying burning in my heart that I--I would get it right for Him. But I can't even say this sentence without saying that I know I don't have to do anything. He told Jesus before he did anything, "This is my son; with him I am well pleased."

I pray that I might come to really appreciate Your design, to appreciate this corner of Your creation that I inhabit, this me.

To just be comfortable in my skin.