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| (You may be able to tell I'd read some T. S. Eliot earlier in the day. Actually, you can always tell when I've been reading him--I occasionally write poems and they tend to have a different way of dealing in theme. He's amazing.
Oh, also? San Gabriel mts. were in the distance, you can tell that, too. Yes, that afternoon they were visible.)
I lift my eyes to the hill
And all I see is the rocky, scrubby dirt
I have some idea of the hope o restoration
Of water
Of building
Of breaking the cycle of erosion and dust
But here the land is already green
I lift my eyes to heaven
And there are clouds and empty space
I have some idea of the far beyond
Of features
Of spirit
Of meaning that breaks through like light in the dawn
But where is my hope of guidance from?
I would ask
I would ask and receive
I would
For the questions that I don't hear
For the love I ought to bear
And the burden
But what burden, Lord?
What peak
What feature to imagine in the wind-formed cloud?
Here are my unutterable questions, and doubt
Here, where you call me and I turn,
Looking for a familiar face with an unknown voice
And I should see you
But I don't.
Here am I, Lord
Don't send me
Without you.
Waiting for the question
And moreso, the answers to the vague heart of service
Am I,
Send me
But not without knowing,
condemned to wander for not pleasing the silent and inapproachable light.
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| Boy, when one of my three youngest siblings goes to Insight...
Elijah, 9 years old, about some dog-food ad: "and no animal by-products, which is a problem for dogs..."
I wish people who made me really laugh weren't so far away.
I wish I was going somewhere.
Yes, I have a problem with wanderlust--but this is also about the kind of people I want to be with, and the kind of life I want to be living.
I want to be doing more than just writing and selling souvenirs. (Though that's a deprecatory way of looking at my work.)
All you who think of attending conferences on apostleship, be ye warned!
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| In "Wild at Heart" John Eldredge quotes his friend Jan as saying (approximated):
Women who live out God's identity for them will be Valiant, Vulnerable, and Scandalous.
I've pondered that a bit. Being Valiant is not being mightily courageous, dashing in to the rescue and dashing off to find more people to rescue. It is being brave when confronted by a need to act. Being Valiant can be feminine--from delivering her own child to rescuing a precious painting from the burning capital...or saving someone's life, too.
Being Vulnerable is not being naive or unwisely open. It is being able to feel other peoples' hurt, being willing to have emotions, and striving to not shut out people but invite them into life...even your own.
Being Scandalous isn't being profligate, shameless. It is being aware of the greater imperative than good behavior--not to get what you want careless of others, but not being held by other peoples' judgement when it is time to act. The ability to not back down about what's right, to love Jesus shamelessly...to seduce the kinsman redeemer.
Metaphorically, of course. Of course. 0_<
This is my new theme for my heroines, as well as myself. And I will NOT promise to never let them seduce a kins-man redeemer...
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| Today I went to a party I enjoyed very much. Thanks to everyone involved!
I don't know where to take this blog--it appears that Xanga is still a place for my friends in OK, and since this was my place to connect with Insight friends, it's dropped off the map when they migrated.
I would love to eliminate stuff, and this blog may end up being one of them. Only I want to read stuff people write, the few who I know of. Maybe if more of the local community that are regular posters find me and want to dialogue about stuff I'll keep it...
But I want to talk about stuff that few people connect with.
Which is why I have a LiveJournal where I bug other writers with my thoughts on craft. I also review books, do some "meme" (tagging questionnaire type of things), and whine about my writing progress.
I'm "anachred" at http://anachred.livejournal.com
You are welcome over there.
I'm also on Facebook (first/last name, two pages in, usually), MySpace under "greymantlepoets", and have a site in need of an update: bethanypowell.com
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| I played tag for over an hour yesterday, and while not much of a prize with the big brothers to catch, I ran enough that I was stiff as a granny last night. Luckily, I'm not very sore today, but if I sit still to long I do have a bit of trouble unbending. It was fun, though.
And it's major progress to find running around for an hour fun. In terms of my whole life, even: as a kid I hated playing Tag.
It was weird to come out of Panama, where a white redhead was painfully obvious and deserving of whistles, to go to Biola, where it's the girls giving you the once over.
The inspectors would be happy to know what they never will know--which is, I will not be afflicting their campus with my shambles of a fashion sense and the wardrobe behind it any more.
Still.
Sidelong looks for daring to be shabby. I'm so glad I missed out on that life...
I'm safely home where I sit on my bed free from looks. And sally out into the world with very few fashion police to afflict me with staring.
I found a lumberjack shirt at Atwoods. I realized I really DO like them, and bought it to wear with jeans and my new Goodwill cowboy boots.
Sara (Wool Product Consultant for Shepherd's Cross ^_^) appreciated my hunger for trees and the color green that incurred these photos, which made me feel less crazy, Thank you Sara! :
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