theme for august

stardate 08062014
Siren wails weave their way through town.
The cringe of anticipation as they approach.
Someone's having a much worse day than me.
Hoot-hoot of the train behind the ladies sharing their struggles and victories at the metal table next to me. With aviators and precise pedicures. One looks like Owen Wilson.
Clanks of mugs on saucers from the collared shirt man chatting with the bearded one with a rainbowed sleeve.
Will there be tattoos in heaven?
Engines noises behind me sliding by and orchestrated intervals.

this ivy is confused. i blame the drought.

I realize. I have not given this day to God. A sobering, even harrowing thing.
It's been a few days since I started with Your will be done in my head.
Blech. What a terrible waste.
Redeemer of souls. 
And Redeemer of time.

dyhyst? part 2

This minimalist thing has taken a turn for the serious.
Like a slow ventricular bleed.
My sister started posting things and the phone calls started and the comments rolled in and the cash started flowing and my load lightened. Ever so slightly.
We made pretty good money at the yard sale. It was kinda fun.
Stifling heat with a small white oscillating fan mocking us. Bitter people demonstrating rather poor citizenship to their children. Aggressive enough to verbally attack at a price disagreement. Angry enough to drop or throw things in disgust. Depraved enough to take bags of items without paying.
Yes we did rather well. Our morality still intact. No one was hurt. We laughed a lot. And in retrospect, I know now why my dad never left us out there alone.
It was quite a success.
And for me, deeply therapeutic.

It's something I think about on a daily basis. Getting rid of stuff. 
For several years I mean. Like, it haunts me.
My sister, however, is the one with the gumption to execute. It had to be en una pareja.

Three years of things filling up one car space in a two-car garage. Reduced by one half.

But it's not enough. Like making ice cream low-fat. Tastes gross. And if you eat too much, it still makes you fat.
So yeah, we sold tons of stuff. Yet somehow... it's still not enough. Not enough gone. Not enough space made. Not enough emptiness.
And I crave the emptiness. To somehow make the material a fair representation of the intangible.
I don't need this stuff. No one does. But we never have enough. Of at least something.
Nowhere in America will anyone ever have enough.
"Dad, what would your friends in Indonesia think of all this crap?"

And as the men loaded an 8-foot bed back up with things to try at one last sale when it's cooler, I thought to myself. I thought through a heat and exhaustion that left me depressed. I thought, "How much would it really matter if he backed that up to the city dump's bay and heaved it into the backhoe's playground?"
My goal is to fit all our possessions in that size truck bed. And it just got filled with leftovers. Gleaned but not purged.
Why can't I do it?
Because we are married to our mammon, friends. We think this world is our own. And we are of little faith.

"When Jesus said, 'Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also' 

he was making a direct correlation between the things we value 

and the things we put our faith in." -David Tackle

So as I slowly bleed out I pray it will be a dying to self. A dying to the order of this world. A blow to deception. And a gasp of air from the One who gives breath.

I don't have the sort of camera that can do our summer sky justice. Even with one I couldn't capture it. It's not just the hue of the sky and the artificial clouds. It's the glaze cast over sidewalks and lightly-tinted stucco walls.
It's coral. And it glows.
The very thing causing the eery illumination is reflected in the color. We are nearly hemmed in now by wildfire.

Yep. Doesn't translate.
And heavens declare the glory of God. In a different way.

Goodbye Norma Jeep

There were tears when it was upon its deathbed. Hoisted in such irreverent fashion. The auto-wrecker driver sensitively nodding as we asked to watch. 
"You have no idea. This car..." and I shook my head. Not to be dramatic. But because I didn't have words to sum up God's faithfulness via the Jeep. 
The trips we've taken. The city streets we've mobbed through. The mountains we've driven over. The snow we've plowed. The forest roads we've gotten lost on. The logging trails we've beaten down. 

Sure I've been sad about leaving a place. Like Vancouver. That was rough. 
But leaving the thing... nay, rejecting and sending away that which got us places... that's different somehow. It almost feels cruel. Off to be junked. So unfitting and end. I wish I could leave it on Mt Adams in commemoration. 
Alas. I need the cash.

I wonder what it was like for Caleb and Joshua to pack away their tents. Did they brush off the dust and fold it tenderly? Did their wives repurpose them? Curtains? Floor cushions?

If I had just a smidgen of their courage I think I'd be good to go. 
Albeit, on a bike.

soliloquy on a broken tranny

There is a countenance of loss. 
I saw today. 
And feeling in the throat. 
I felt today.
We sort of stood there with the mechanic in the shade. An impromptu meeting of the souls in quiet mourning. The inevitable. Kept at bay by prayers and a faithful mechanic.
Whispers of tree leaves. Dust kicked and flying in the arid heat and patters of dog feet as the dog played fetch with our daughter. Blissfully unaware of the pronounced sentence. Its implications written on adult faces. The sweet young "good girl!" and giggles foiling our grief.
The husband's voice soft and brows heavy.
It lasted longer than we thought. 210,000 miles. 
And the loss is yet a real pang. 
We have effectively totalled our car twice in one season. But the second blow is nastier than the first.
The implications, of which we had been wrestling with at the hand of other vices, were beginning to settle.
We are without. Not just means by which to go from point A to point B, but the means by which to acquire anew.

the quag and another thing i know

some more thoughts on church. specifically the weekly gathering of the Lord's people:
it should not be lame.
what do i mean by this descriptor? i mean exactly that.
lame.
as in slow, not fully functional, weak, lacking in usefulness, ineffectual.
also, i'd like "church" to be a place where...

• if i did not bring my Bible i would wish i had. (that was an extremely hard sentence to get the tenses straight in. and even know i'm doubting its dubious grammaticalness.) 
• that, and a pencil and paper to write on.
• the worship in song, prayer and teaching is a augmentation of what i've been doing by myself or with my family all week
• a time after which i can't wait to go home and get to know Jesus more in His book. because the gathering, the assembling of His people has stoked the fire of my adoration for the One who paid it all.

spare me the litany of societal woes repeatedly gathered by gallup. the psychology shrouded in biblical references. the pleadings for offerings via old testament eisegesis. the criticisms of neighboring churches and their questionable creeds on music.
spare me the lameness.
seriously. stop it.
however, it was rather refreshing to read in Psalms the sons of Korah (who, ironically, i just read about in 1 Chronicles) describe the gathering of God's people for the purpose of His praise:

"My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.

When can I go and meet with God?" 42:2

"These things I remember

as I pour out my soul:

how I used to go with the multitude,

leading the procession to the house of God,

with shouts of joy and thanksgiving

among the festive throng." 42:4

"Send forth your light and your truth, let them guide me;

let them bring me to your holy mountain, to the place where you dwell.

Then I will go to the altar of God,

to God, my joy and delight,

I will praise you with the harp,

O God, my God." 43:3-4

and now i really i feel like i'm missing something.

oh and also i made a dress. (thanks mr. Fassett.)

weak sauce

stardate 08102011

i just read the pentateuch through. (as in, Genesis through Deutoronomy.) then Joshua. very good stuff. i thoroughly enjoyed it.

then i read Judges.

sick. shocking. and super disturbing.
dis-turb-ing.
i will not meditate or even think about some of the stories in that book. at one point, i had to have psalms read to me to wash the imagery out of my head.
(my new least favorite character in the old testament is Jephthath. after reading the account of his life i pretty much hate his guts. the who's who of who not to invite if you want me at your party.)
i get it though. Israel was entrusted with the very words of God. and then messed up. big time.
don't we all? over and over and over...

dirty, dirty Judges. it shows the sheer filth of life without the fear of God. times ten spajillion since it was most the nation of Israel. let me just try, having just read it once through, to stab, in no particular order, at some themes here:

• doing whatever you want doesn't work out so great
• God uses some seriously crooked and confused people to accomplish His purposes
• a group of people need leadership
• it is helpful if leaders aren't of moral weak sauce
• being left-handed can be quite a tactical advantage
• women can be vicious and awful 4:21; 14:16-17; 16:15-16;
• men can be stupid and violent 8:27; 11:35,39; 19:25-27
• God intervenes in the gnarliest of times
• He really means what He says so you better do so

then i remembered a verse that sums it up real nice-like:

"All day long I have held out my hands to an obstinate people,

who walk in ways not good,

pursuing their own imaginations—

a people who continually provoke me to my very face..."

Isaiah 65:2-3a

by His grace, i hope i may never be counted among those. who provoke.

yikes.

special forces on a special day

yep. that would be the two year-old wearing her new special forces cap. suits her.

this girl loves her hats. and bracelets. and barettes. and bags. that's my accessorizing girl. and she didn't learn it from me.

it was truly hilarious to go through the Costco with her in a bright-white ankle-length lace-trimmed April Cornell cotton dress and a black cap that says,

"SPECIAL FORCES:

Mess with the best,

Die like the rest."

it's pretty neat the things they peddle at the Nob Hill/Raley's.

"two two, two two." and now you know how to count to five.

the world is ours to rejoice in. for we know its Creator.
thus comes our haikus of wonderment:

lizards across toes
the crows whom are all our pets
soft donkey muzzles

bright blue plastic ball
mister potatohead hat
sinking pink balloons

nuggets with Page then
shaun the sheep, cousins, grandma,
grandpa on the couch

hearing the news

when i was small—and i mean before 1987 small—a little boy i used to play with in my grandparents' neighborhood died after being struck by a car. (that is one of my least favorite phrases, by the way. "struck by a vehicle" and variants thereof are very ugly words.)
it was unexpected. when i heard of it i was sitting behind our brown recliner with the brass-looking rivets. a friend was over. and i blew it off.
"did you know that kid?"
"yeah," shrugging my shoulders.
what else was i supposed to do? i'd never see him again. was he in hell? did he trust Jesus? i didn't know how to react.
but i was heartbroken.
his name was Paul.
and sometimes i think about his family.
this month is my grandpa's memorial service. he died in his sleep a few weeks ago. a thing we knew would come. expected even. i read it in a text one morning. i didn't know how i'd react to his death. i knew i would see him again by and by.
turns out i smiled. i rejoiced. all i could think of was the wonders he was beholding. seeing clearly. hearing.
Jesus.
but i'm heartbroken.
his name is Roger.
i always think about his family.
and how they just welcomed him home.

just say no...

...to taking pseudo-ephedra pseudaphedrine pseudi... whatever it's called. don't take it at night. even if the very fear of a head cold yields insomnia. this would be more adventageous. it's 00:50 hours and my resting pulse is 96. is that high? it feels awful poundy.

...to starting new projects. i've officially declared this the "summer of completion." i just gave my friends a quilt i began last spring a full 364 days after their wedding—certainly was very Emily Post of me... barely.

...to clearing bush that looks like poison oak.

...to throwing away crochet patterns from the 1940's.

...to wearing anything but sandals in July.

...to putting the ponies with the other barnyard animals.

the quag and a thing i know

there's a thing i know that sustains me through times of upheaval.
God loves loves loves His bride. hear that? He adores the church.
did He not give Himself up for her? Wayne Grudem writes, "So great is God's plan for the church that He has exalted Christ to a postion of highest authority for the sake of the church..." Whaaa??

wow. chew on that for a minute.
or month.
them that mess with those whom the Lord of the heavenly armies loves are fools. destined for the smite-age even. (smittage. smitage. whatev.) nuh-uh not i. (none of those three lines are sentences. i know.)
i once heard a professor tell a good story to illustrate this. he was an elder of a church. the church leadership was given clear direction by God to take a bold step of faith. all the elders were of one mind and excited to move forward. except one crotchedy old fart who'd been there forever and had hardened his heart. the other elders pled and conversed with this dude but he wouldn't budge. they then prayed that any hindrance to God's plan be removed.
the old man died the next day.
true story. they moved forward and saw God's sweeping hand bless their socks off.
i'm telling you, don't mess with His bride. it's not the road to simple living--simple in the how-not-to-get-rebuked-by-God-in-ways-more-creative-than-you-can-possibly-imagine sense of the word.

yesterday was my birthday

and so i ponder.
besides immediate family (six homes represented) i never get cards.
except my cousin Rebecca. always from my cousin. she gets what i'm just now getting. being acknowldedged for your birthday is huge. it's your one day in a year when folks can say, "i'm glad you're alive," without it sounding super awkward. (okay. it still sounds awkward. but it's warranted.) it takes a bit of forethought and a stamp, but it's way worth the smile at the other end. did i say stamp? yes. because e-cards hardly qualify.
growing up there were something like 37 cousins' birthdays to contend with just on my mom's side. we gathered (wisely) only once a quarter lumping everyone's together. mine was always with Rachel (Rebecca's sister. perhaps ironically.) which was rad since our families were closest anyway. (this happens when your mothers are sisters.)

tim, rachel, rebecca, and me (incidentally after i cut my own bangs. i'm an artist.)

and also if you are awesome.

which is so very obvious from this picture of us in 1982 at the cabin. (sorry sisters. you were not yet.)  you can see our awesomeness clearly. sheer awesomeness. it's radiating off the screen even as you read this. such love. such affection. such a pout from a stong-willed only-child. who could that be...?

anyway, with birthdays three days apart, we had cakes together. opened gifts and cards together. then played with our presents together. hopefully the presents weren't lame. they rarely were. our uncles, aunts and grandparents were good gift-pickers. you can imagine why these gatherings went the way of the dinosaur. just think of the budgeting required to buy 37 gifts a year for snot-nosed children.

which brings me to my second point. why have birthday parties and cake become perfunctory obligations to be ignored? 

sadness.

just because we're adults? don't we enjoy cake just as much? even while feigning a weight-loss diet, do we not ditch it for birthday cake?

lame.
this culture needs a birthday revolution. let it start with me.
happy birthday Rachel! your card will be terribly late.

revelation vs. poultry

it cracks me up when people say, "God told me..." or "I received a word from the Lord," and then proceed to tell me something that can't be found in His word.
consider that "God will add to him the plagues described..." painful sores, bloody fish waters, third degree sunburn, gnawing of one's tongue in agony...
need i go on?
(thanks for that John.)
in the words of a wise man i know:
keep it to yourself.
"maybe you just ate bad chicken."

bird walk

these are the birds i've seen the last few weeks by the sacramento river. i'd take pictures of them if i was able. but i don't have a nikkor telephoto and sick nikon like my dad. so i rely on others to illustrate.
hooded merganser 
gadwall
american widgeon
mallard
northern shoveler
buffflehead
ring-necked
and maybe a common goldeneye
my favorite this season is the gadwall. at first glance, you'd think he was a boring brown. but nay. he is gorgeous. i especially like the black bum.
the following is by Kenneth Grahame from Wind in the Willows, possibly the best story book ever composed. it's the song the water rat sang to tick off the ducks in the river.


Ducks' Ditty
All along the backwater,

Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!

Ducks' tails, drakes' tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight
Busy in the river!

Slushy green undergrowth
Where the roach swim—
Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim.

Everyone for what he likes!
We like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!

High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call—
We are down a-dabbling
Up tails all!

a quarter score and two weeks ago

i have been blogging (rather inconsistently) for five years ago. the first picture posted was of my cat in my apartment. i certainly do not have a cat now. this is us in front of our apartment now.

still rainy, but in a different way. redding, california cannot claim vancouver, washington's epic rainfall count. bryan's nose still has an oakley sunburn line. people in the pacific northwest go to tanning salons to acquire this effect in december. here, you just work outside for a day.
the third entry of this blog is about us visiting redding. now we live there. here. whatever.
in five years i've finally realized a truth about people: most are nuts.
really?
this comes as a shock.
we just got our fourth round of neighbors in the unit behind us. within 48 hours they fulfilled the quota: swearing, screaming, threatening, throwing things, slamming doors, and general domestic dispute-age. why i've been surprised at this every time comes from a gross ignorance i've now officially nullified.
people are nuts.
duh.
we don't fight like that in our family. i've never lived in a home where cussing each other out or whooping on someone is a matter of course. but apparently, brawling with the folks you live with is commonplace.
Nearly three out of four (74%) of Americans personally know someone who is or has been a victim of domestic violence. 30% of Americans say they know a woman who has been physically abused by her husband or boyfriend in the past year. 
gross.
thank you Jesus for a sweet family. this is ever-gracious of You.

trashy food worth purging

i think the creators of fruit loops took color theory or something. or maybe i'm quilting too much. but this cereal seriously makes me want to make a quilt.
why do i even have this nasty stuff in my kitchen? sigh. it was buy one get one free. so duh i bought these and apple jacks. and maybe corn pops.

the colors look so happy together. i think it's to counter the illness you feel after you eat them. and there's only 12 grams of sugar per serving... but it's super toxic sugar. it's the only time i think i've ever read the ingredients start with SUGAR. how do you start with sugar? is this hard candy? ew.
and am i not supposed to be cutting this stuff out of my diet? yes. i have been. really. then i had a cereal craze. it was cheap. so yeah. i see how people who don't have a lot of money are obese. i mean, eating poorly is super cheaper than eating well. man did that binge make me feel ill.
don't do it friends. don't.

one thursday morning

written on my cell at  0400 hours...

life. the series of odd and seemngly unrelated visions.

a french-braided ER nurse with a pink scrunchy.

bryan singing the theme song to married with children.

a moaning obese woman with her gown wide open.

a bubbly x-ray tech with hari reminiscent of a painter of happy little clouds.

princess patient stickers.

the codeine glaze of my child's eyes.

and the blessing of the discharge.

i used to play the piano

which is interesting. but only if you have known me a short while.
i took lessons preschool into high school. i even have a cassette tape of me accompanying my mom singing sandi patti. (pause/silence for a bygone era of quality synthesizer music.)
i used to be rather good. now i forget how to read the notes below the lines. have a hard time hitting each note of a chord at the same time. my fingers forget where they are. and here i am trying to remember how to place my fingers just so to play a run of fifths.
i'm rusty.
whenever i see my grandpa, he asks if i still play. no.
clearly disappointed in me he asks, why?
well, it has a lot to do with the fact i live in an apartment in a county with a high number of individuals toting guns.
and also, somewhere along my history, it started to hurt. so slowly, i played less and less.
not that i ever dreamed it would bring me somewhere. or make me money. or solely fulfill my need for the arts. but it was nice to do. therapeutic somehow.
a gift given to me by my parents. lessons and a piano. do you have any idea what sort of sacrifice it entails having someone learn how to play an instrument in your home? a huge one. at times i was so irritated with practice. with teachers. with the time i had to spend. but they knew better. and it's a grace to me that i can sit down and play what i like. that with practice i could sound good. could. if i wanted to.
by the way, hiromi uehara is my hero. what?! you haven't heard of her? uncultured swine. :)
(if you don't have the patience to watch the whole video, go directly to 2:00. you will not be disappointed.)

shovelers not among us

it got a lot cooler. in the 60's. the wind is chilling my fingers as i type. a welcome change.
with the cooler weather i'm reminded, among other things, of my previous home in the great pacific northwest. how with the changing weather comes the huge migration of birds.
at the ridgefield national wildlife refuge (here's a little picture of it), we used to drive slowly around the loop and watch for the newly arrived birds of the season. mallards, wood ducks, canada geese, red-tail hawks, bald eagles, yellow-headed black birds, soras (which have the coolest call in the world. just click on the little play button to hear it. you won't be disappointed.), snow geese, cinnamon teals, ruddy ducks (with blue bills!) even sandhill cranes once. to name a few.
but my favorite has always been this little guy:

i know. he's adorable. i was thinking the same thing. he's like a mutant mallard. but much prettier. and as long as i've drawn his bill, i think it's actually longer. they swish it around in the water eating plants. like how someone would swing a metal detector.

i think people shoot them and eat them. i'm not going into that.

they're only here in the winter on the way to mexico. and in california, i've only seen one pair at delevan nwr near sacramento. i'm hoping i get to take a trip there and see him this winter. 

thursday september 9, 2010 11:07

see what i mean: 

http://vimeo.com/2095656

she makes a queue o' wee folk