....

When you look in the mirror,

see green eyes staring back,

you wonder who you envy,

what you lack,

and your eyes stare back,

with no answer.

Peace

I'm drowning.

The lifeboat is right there

In front of me,

But I just don't have the strength,

The strength to pull myself up inside.

It taunts me.

With cold indifference.

Seconds away from peace.

~Tehom qara' Tehom~

Right away I am going to say that this was made for a reminder for me (I am NOT a poet nor writer), and I thought a lot about whether to post it on the blog or not. However, as most of you will never meet me on this earth, it doesn't bother me so much. The wonderment of the internet… go figure.
Here are the words since the picture is small.

~Tehom qara' Tehom~

The sun has turned-
The wind, cold. The land, frozen. Life less
"Where is my savior
In times of sorrow?" in times of pain?

{Be still; search the waters}

My heart breaks in the absence
And oh that You would turn Your face!
To shine upon me again!

{I will never forsake you}

That you would be a father to me!
That you would touch my heart with care
To show me the Beauty You gave
To Bless me with Life renewed!

{I will sustain you}

My heart cries to You
And to You only. Please-
Set my feet upon the rock once more.

{Be still and know that I AM GOD}
Selah.

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~
~Abba's Rebuke~

Am I not your Tower?
Did I not shelter you in the fire?
Or aid My Wing in the storm?

My child, you wound Me.

Have you not read my promises?
Do I, YHWH, break my word?
Who do you say that I am?

You silly girl, come close.

Have I not brought you here?
I am the 'Good Teacher' - will I not instruct?
Remember the sparrows?


You are more precious to Me than many, countless, sparrows.

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~
A few explanations for the confused/interested/nosy:

The ramblings are not always meant to quote the Bible exactly. Many of these phrases will make complete sense to my family and I as we have gone through studies together. Such as in the case with the sparrows- "countless" is not mentioned in the Text, however, when I read this passage and see "many" or "multitude," I think of a large flock of small birds as they head down south. Therefore, to me, they are countless. I think this also goes with the heart of God, but this is not a direct quote.

"Tehom qara' Tehom" means "Deep to Deep" which is referenced in Psalms 42. This phrase in itself means a lot to me: the deeper part of myself calls upon the One who made it; only He can hear, and only He can answer. That's putting it simply.

There is much confusion and discussion surrounding the word "Selah." I will merely point you to a write up that makes sense to me and explains how this word is used here. *points* --> (http://www.mountainretreatorg.net/faq/selah.html)

As with most artwork that is meaningful to me, this was done in the night hours as I wrestled with my God. What I learned after struggling can be seen in part through the second writing, "Abba's Rebuke." The 'Tower' references a time when he protected me from a certain long and stressful circumstance, and the 'storm' goes back to when I was a child: set in an unknown city, accidently separated from my family, and lost in a harsh summer storm. Both times I know without a doubt He looked out for me.

So, there is a part of my head and heart from the past few weeks.

Forgiveness

“It was at a church in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there - the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie's pain blanched face.

He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. "How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein," he said. "To think that, as you say, 'He has washed my sins away'!"

His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal on the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.

Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.

I tried to smile; I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again, I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give him Your forgiveness.

As I took his hand, the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.

And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness, any more than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself.” (excerpt from The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom)

Forgiveness is one of the hardest things for me in my walk with God. I just don’t want to let go of the sins committed against me. There’s hypocrisy for you; I am more than willing to accept, in fact I expect, God’s forgiveness. But at the same time, I am not willing to forgive others.

In the famous passage from Matthew 18 (you know, the one our parents all made us memorize so we would have to forgive our siblings), Peter asks that timeless question, “how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven?”
And Jesus Replies to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.” That’s 490 for any of you math whizzes.

And that got me to thinking, why am I withholding something that I so desperately rely upon myself? Why can I not find it in me to forgive?

If Corrie Ten Boom could forgive the very German who persecuted her and her family in a concentration camp, who played a hand in her sister’s death, than why can’t I forgive my sister when she takes the last chocolate chip cookie? How is it that I cannot find it in myself, a professed born-again believer, to forgive even the least of offenses?

And after hours of soul-searching what I, the thickheaded fool that I am, finally realized is that I need God in everything, even the little things. In my everyday walk I am more than content to tell God to take a backseat and I will call Him in when I need ‘the big guns.’ I am foolishly trying to do things on my own strength, or lack thereof. I need God, especially in the little things.

Forgiveness will always be something that I greatly struggle with, but I’m resigned now to never try it on my own again, that just leads to bitterness. As Miss Ten Boom so wisely pointed out, when God tells us to love our enemies he gives us the love with which to love them, we just have to let ourselves realize that. I think the same thing goes for forgiveness, when he tells us to forgive others, he gives us the strength with which to forgive.

Scrawlings in a Jar: Twingo

To: The World
From: Connie

Sometimes I wish I were a twin. I have always wanted to be able to speak a different language fluently with someone who actually understood my jibberish. Like...a twin...or a random stranger who understands Connie-ism. And I mean...somehow I doubt that even someone related to me would be able to understand Connie-ism.

I WANT MY OWN TWINGO!! You know: Twin-Lingo? Yeah. I want it.

It's not enough to have imaginary friends to talk to in your little language. And maybe some of us DO have imaginary friends, there's no need to criticize. Psh.

I want a living breathing person that I can totally speak in a different language with: like twins! Twins are supposed to have this trait where they develop their own language or something. It's supposed to be common. Rats, I want a twin to talk to in a secret language. And you know what's funny? Me and said twin (Let's call her Rhonda. "Connie and Rhonda" has a nice ring to it, don't ya think?) would probably only ever be like

Connie: "Hey...Mom's  meatloaf is particularly dry today."
Rhonda: "Drier than usual? Gross."
Connie: "Don't tell her I said so."
Rhonda: "Why would I tell her that? That's stupid, Connie."
Connie: "YOU'RE stupid, Rhonda!"
      Mom: "What are you girls talking about?"
Connie/Rhonda: "...Nothing..."

So...technically it's not like it would be all that fun anyways. But...somehow...it would just be so awesome...

Death by Frost

          Robert Frost wrote almost exclusively about death and mortality, whether that theme is hidden, as in “Nothing Gold Can Stay” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” or obvious, as in “Out, Out—.” Each of these poems describes death in a different mood and theme. These poems express the following themes respectively: the inevitability of change, the acceptance of the conditions of life, and the fragility of life.
          Upon first reading “Nothing Gold Can Stay,” it may seem that Frost is merely speaking about nature. He is talking about nature, but he is using it to describe the change that death brings. Hidden in this short poem is a broader theme that this change is inevitable. “Nature’s first green is gold, / Her hardest hue to hold” (lines 1-2) is a general statement: everything good must eventually die because change is a necessary part of life. The alliteration in the second line is effective because it seems to hold on to that particular sound—exactly what the poem is saying is difficult to do. “The leaf subsides to leaf / So Eden sank to grief / So dawn goes down to day” (5-7) are three examples of things that we already know happen or have happened. The leaves of plants die and fall from the plant to give room to newer leaves; the leaves of that plant are constantly dying and being replaced—always changing. Secondly, as some religious denominations teach, Eden was predestined to fall from the very beginning. The change enacted on the Garden by God was inevitable. The final example states that the cycle of the day will always repeat: day will change to night, night will change to day, “nothing gold can stay” (8).
          The second poem, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” has a theme of acceptance and perseverance. The speaker is on a journey of some sort, but takes the time to break from routine and contemplate a patch of woods. “My little horse must think it queer / To stop without a farmhouse near” (5-6) because the horse is picking up on this break in routine. Now, the woods are a symbol of death in this poem, and the horse’s response suggests that the speaker is pondering death for the first time. “…The sweep / Of easy wind and downy flake” (11-12) are soft, quiet sounds. Snow makes very little noise, and it muffles sound if one walks on it. Frost’s description brings a calming, peaceful picture to mind. These woods are also “…lovely, dark and deep” (13). The speaker is very attracted to these woods—to death. “But I have promises to keep / And miles to go before I sleep / And miles to go before I sleep” (14-16). The speaker cannot go and sleep because it is the condition of his life that he must first fulfill his commitments. He already has accepted that death is inevitable, but he also must accept that he cannot shirk his duties and sleep. The consistent rhythm throughout the line of the poem refers to the routine that the speaker follows and to which the horse is accustomed. Although he thinks of breaking that routine, he does not; therefore, the poem does not either.
          “Out, Out—” is the title of the third poem. Frost places this poem on a farm where a boy is cutting wood with a saw. The work day is about to end as the poem begins: “Call it a day, I wish they might have said / To please the boy by giving him the half hour / That a boy counts so much when saved from work…” (10-13). Poetry editor Aviya Kushner believes “this line hints that disaster is on its way instead of the respite for which the boy might so appreciate…—a half-hour means so much to a child.” The disaster to which Kushner refers is that the saw cuts off the boy’s hand.

“The saw, 

…………………………………………………… 

Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap— 

He must have given the hand. However it was, 

Neither refused the meeting…” (14-18). 

This moment seems to be predetermined, which is why the speaker guesses that he gave his hand to the saw and why the speaker seems to foreshadow a disaster as Kushner points out. “Then the boy saw all— / Since he was old enough to know, big boy / Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—…” (22-24). These lines express how fragile life really is, and especially how fragile life for a child is: he is a “big boy,” but he is doing dangerous work meant for an adult. Everything is fine one moment, but a child is bleeding out in the next. The boy fights against the notion that he may die and begs his sister for help: “…Don’t let him cut my hand off— / The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him sister!’/ So. But the hand was gone already” (25-27). “The word ‘So,’ all alone in a sentence captures the hopelessness of the situation. The doctor merely walks in and numbs the boy” (Kushner).

“The doctor put him in the dark of ether. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . They listened at his heart. 

Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. 

No more to build on there. And they, since they 

Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs” (28-34). 

          The boy is the center of attention while he is still alive. They try to help him, but all they can do is numb him. When he does die, they all seem to move on immediately. They turn to their respective duties because death is just a part of life. “No more to build on there…” (33) because there is no point worrying about something that cannot be helped. “The boy was a child, or ‘little.’ With his hand gone, he was ‘less.’ And then, with his pulse gone, he was ‘nothing’” (Kushner). The way Frost broke the lines and his bluntness give the poem an abrupt feeling, which mirrors the events that happen within the poem. The speaker recounts the incident frankly and suddenly—the same way in which the death occurs.
          These three poems by Robert Frost all speak of the same topic, but because they each have different themes and tell different stories, it does not seem so. “Nothing Gold Can Stay” is not a sad poem because the speaker describes death as something natural, something that must happen to make room for others. Death in this poem is a neutral thing because it is only a change. The speaker in “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” awaits death. To him, death is positive because it is rest. This poem portrays death as a condition of life. It is peaceful and good, something to look forward to. However, it is only when one has finally finished his duties that he may sleep. Death in “Out, Out—,” however, is definitely negative. Death for the boy is terrifying and painful: it is unexpected, unstoppable, and hopeless. Life is fragile and death can quickly take it away. Because these three poems express such different ideas of death, it leads one to think that Frost, although he writes so much about it, is unsure of death himself.

Works Cited 

Frost, Robert. “Nothing Gold Can Stay.” The Compact Bedford Introduction to Literature: Reading, Thinking, Writing. Eighth Edition. Ed. Michael Meyer. Boston, Massachusetts: Bedford/St. Martin's. 2009. 894. Print.

Frost, Robert. "Out, Out—." The Compact Bedford Introduction to Literature: Reading, Thinking, Writing. Eighth Edition. Ed. Michael Meyer. Boston, Massachusetts: Bedford/St. Martin's. 2009. 892. Print.

Frost, Robert. "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." The Compact Bedford Introduction to Literature: Reading, Thinking, Writing. Eighth Edition. Ed. Michael Meyer. Boston, Massachusetts: Bedford/St. Martin's. 2009. 893-94. Print.
Kushner, Aviya. "Overview of 'Out, Out—'." Poetry for Students. Ed. Michael L. LaBlanc. Vol. 10. Detroit: Gale Group, 2001. Literature Resource Center. Web. 9 Mar. 2011.

            Song: King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men
            Quote: "Artists can color the sky red because they know it's blue. Those of us who aren't artists must color things the way they really are or people might think we're stupid." - Jules Feiffer

♫ Those Christmas lights light up the street ♫ Down where the sea and city meet ♫ May all your troubles soon be gone ♫ Oh, Christmas lights, keep shining on ♫ ~ Coldplay

Roman Road

I travel a path not of this Earth
A road known to many, but traveled by few

The journey is long and difficult at times,
But I do not grow weary, for I am not alone

I have left all behind so that I may press on
For I have nothing to lose and everything to gain

I am not seeking a prize of gold, silver, or glory,
But rather a prize I cannot earn nor do I deserve

Though I know I am a sinner, I am not discouraged
Though I know I deserve death, I have been given life

Love has been demonstrated to me through death
And I confess with my mouth and believe in my heart;

I am saved
I walk the Roman Road

♫ Our breath rose in the cold ♫ Like a hundred souls escaping ♫ ~ The Hush Sound

A Gift from Me to You

A cold splash upon my face and the roar of a waterfall greet my ears
From a far off place that everyone hears
A woman coughs and spurts her ills over the computers into my face
She rubs her nose repeatedly as I look on in disgrace
All thought is leaving as my head I begin to wipe
All form of poetry is fading as I find a less wet space to type
Shutting down the machine amidst a dreary storm
At least the stomach bug she gave me will keep me warm
...And now it's snowing outside...

Pessimism in a Box - January Issue

To: The World
From: Connie

What better to be pessimistic about after just a little over a week into a new year? I am sitting in the gym right now... ugh. Death.

I've never been able to handle the dreaded "gym". I mean, I'm not even working out right now, and I can't handle it. I am far too self-conscious to actually get up and put on those ridiculous clothes and go into that ridiculous room with all those other people in ridiculous clothes, as they run and jump and pull and push on those ridiculous machines that do nothing but make me feel ridiculous.

Ugh. Ridiculous.

I didn't come all the way to a gym on a new year just to criticize it. I'm above that. I came because I have been dragged by my hair so that I can watch my friend (who dragged me here) be all fit and perfect and beautiful as she runs on the stupid treadmill with all the other stupid beautiful people. So, I figured, while I was here, I'd criticize it. I am not above that.

Maybe it's because only fit people go to the gym. I mean, I've always had a problem even just running in my neighborhood. And yes: I've tried it. You know that feeling you get when you think people are totally watching you through their windows and laughing at your puffy red face and the fact that you're about to drop freaking dead? Yeah...I get that feeling. Now imagine that feeling 12 times magnified because only fit people are laughing at you now, and you'd have an estimate of what I'd feel like in a gym. And no: I haven't tried it. I mean...would you?

And I know it's a new year, and we're supposed to be eating healthy and exercising all that Christmas/Thanksgiving belly-fat away. I guess I just don't care enough. It's a delicate scale between humiliation and health. In my precarious situation, Health usually doesn't win. I don't do resolutions for that purpose. This makes me weak, I realize, but I'd rather be weak than foolish. Because I know me, and resolutions are foolish for me to try. Let's just leave it at that.

In short: I hate gyms. New year? Psh. New year my foot. Ain't gonna happen. Sorry fitness gurus of the world.

2012

   Was forced to watch the ball drop. Then promptly went to bed...sort of. I now claim the first post of the new year. 
   I was asked if I have a new year's resolution. I do not. I think it's stupid to have one because we should all try to improve ourselves all the time...not just for a holiday. It's the same for Valentine's day and Christmas. Why save flowers and chocolate for February? We should express love constantly throughout the year. And Christmas--we should always be generous. Yes, yes, I guess they're just reminders, but they're not really treated like it. They should be more like Sunday. You're supposed to act like a good Christian on Sunday...but shouldn't you be one the rest of the week too? It's not supposed to be a reminder...
   Everyone should think more about their words, actions, and thoughts. Yes, think about your thoughts. Be metacognizant. It will help more than a new year's resolution, I'll bet. Unless metacognizance is your resolution. That I would approve of.
   I am so tired, I spent the past five minutes trying to figure out how I could make the previous sentence not end in a preposition... Clearly, I gave up (oh, look, I did it again).
   I will probably read this tomorrow and ask myself why I thought any of this was blog-worthy. Well, there's some Hella ramblings for you. Now, go contemplate the concept of infinity, or something equally silly yet thought-provoking. Thinking is good for you. Tschau!


   Song: 21 Guns by Green Day
   Quote: "It is difficult to live in the present, ridiculous to live in the future, and impossible to live in the past. Nothing is as far away as one minute ago." Jim Bishop