Sense of Memory
Rose petal fallen to ground
Dead as you are
Not even the flowers given
In your memory last
Leaf from stem to coffee cup
Sip to lips
Taste of residue hits palate
Death tastes fuzzy
Hum hum buzzing refrigerator
Hymnals sung
Echos summoned from memory
Voice distracting mind from studies
Garbage rot in doorway
Stale fish smell
Summers in your garden
Dumpster dives and burning bushes
Senses shape thought of you
Missing you completely
Labels: death, poetry, remembrance
Honor
There have been too many people to count, who have hand a hand or a finger in the development of who I am becoming. Darlene Buttram was the catalyst in my introduction to a life transcendent, believing in my ability to hear Holy Spirit even when I didn't think I'd ever met Him. I think of Jeff and Mel, who modeled for me what loving well looks like, in spirit and in truth. Danny and Stephanie come to mind, and the countless hours on their couch, wrestling through the growing pains I was experiencing in both my soul and my spirit. And there is Sean and Barb, who believed in me and, even without knowing, commissioned me into ministry by laying hands on me and blessing me and calling the Spirit down to dwell and overtake. Not to mention that the first time I'd ever heard Sean speak (I still remembered the message was "It Takes A River") was the first time I remember making a conscious decision to serve the Lord.
I have been listening to the teachings of Bill Johnson, and he has a lot to say about honoring those who have come before us. In knowing how to honor correctly, we recognize the God-given destinies on those we honor. Whether someone ended poorly or not, it is not my place to judge them, but to rightly see that Holy Spirit has used these ones to establish His kingdom in my heart. Being someone who has a great desire to mentor, parent, and disciple those who I go before, I know that there is no gauge for me to see fruit coming from my life unless there is a culture of honor in those who I pour into. Not to say that there is a need for me to see fruit develop. God only knows just how many great leaders died before their influence was ever publicly recognized. Yet if it is in my power to do so, I want to live my life in such a way that those who have done the hard work of investing in me feel encouraged and strengthened to continue as they observe my life. I know that I need encouragement this way at times, especially when the ones I have once poured myself out for are no longer within proximity.
"Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it." Proverbs 3:27 (ESV)
There are a number of people who come to mind who, up until now, I have never recognized as being among these I've already mentioned. Whether my relationship with these individuals ended poorly or my ability to recognize their influence weak, I want to, at least in my heart, honor those who deserve it. I want to be thankful! My life has been so poured into by so many people. How little do we say "thank you" in our culture today? I mean, REALLY say "thank you" and mean it. I often feel like such a little ingrate. To bless and not curse, to give as I have already received, to speak life and truth, to love well - this is the way of the Kingdom, and I want to live in a culture that brings the Kingdom to the small patch of earth that I inhabit.
Labels: authority, honor, remembrance
my first summer revisited
I have been scanning my blog and old journal entries this morning, simply to be reminded of the things that I may have forgotten. The following blog entry is one that I wrote my first summer in NYC. During the time I wrote this entry, I was living in Bushwick, Brooklyn with Jax and Patrick, I was working at the Starbucks on 35th & 5th with my beloved Frenchie, Sandra Doussin, and I was just starting to get my feet wet at in the community of Trinity Grace Church (formally known as Origins Church). My heart felt so much wonder and awe every time I laid eyes on the skyline as I rode the JMZ over the Williamsburg Bridge. Life back then seemed a lot less complicated then it does now - New York was so novel, just an adventure I could write about and tell my kids about one day. Now, I feel responsible for what goes on in the streets and in the government, as if this is has become my home.
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subway station chronicles : essex/delancey
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
the man who talked to himself sat in between me and the woman whose legs were frightfully unshaven. he was intently eating the last bit of meat off of the fried chicken bones i had thrown in the trash can only moments ago. each gnawed on bone he flicked into the air, leaving each piece to fall wherever it may. her sideways glance filled with disgust, she got up swiftly to move as far away from him as she could. the conviction in her movement was obvious! but when it seemed that she was undetected and clear from his reach, when all hope looked conquered and within her grasp, he spit the remnants of bone and chicken fat from his mouth and covered her from shoulder to waist with his saliva. oh the realities of a fallen world!
Labels: comedy, remembrance, tragedy
torment
6/16/2006
i laid in my bed and could not keep still. my every muscle felt as if needles were piercing through my skin... my body shook from discomfort and pain. beads of sweat trickled down from my forehead to my pillow, the closest feeling to hell that i have ever imagined. no peace could be felt or even hoped for as i spiritually, physically, mentally, emotionally felt tortured.
medication did nothing. gentle music did nothing. weeping did nothing. begging, pleading, pounding my fists for relief did nothing. my faith in God was still existant, but i wonder if He was anywhere near to me last night.
the morning came and the day has passed and my strength has faded and i feel exhausted. weight heavy on my shoulders is what i have lifted all day. and i wish there was some explanation for this torment - some hidden sin, some outrageous act of devotion to God which has caused the gates of hell to rise up against me. but i have done nothing beyond myself. if anything, i have been weak. and i am so tired. i wish i could find peace and rest today. i hardly feel my new mercies and grace.
will i sleep through the night? what will tomorrow bring? how will i afford to live when provision seems scarce? will i find peace or aid or salvation for today or tomorrow or this week?
please remember me...
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this entry was found in the archives of my external hard drive. notice the date; this was written when i was living in california, in between australia and new york city. the season in which this entry was written proved to be a very hard time for me. fortunately, the grace of God sustained me, and i survived.
Labels: intercession, remembrance, torment
