Thursday, December 14

Waiting for you

God knows we are getting there
one step every day
winding through a twisted path
wandering sometimes far away

His nature
to be close to us
close enough to feel our breath
and sometimes he settles
for a shout through a fog
for an after thought
for a glance back
as we walk our own way

He is not offended
only grieved
your free will
(the gift He died for)
is yours
and if you choose Him
He wants it free and clear
not through pressure or fear

So He waits
with open arms
and with a bursting heart
with a love you've never known
with a love that even understands your wandering

and when you are ready
when you've figured it out the hard way
that there is no real life without Him
He will welcome you into open arms
and won't mention before.



Broken Trust

What is harder than standing up for what you believe in
when it doesn't allow you to continue in love?
Forced to make a decision based on another persons poor decision

We effect each other
loves makes us one
your decision is mine
and mine are yours
one wrong move
and the house of cards we built together
comes tumbling down

You taught me not to trust you
showed me that when I wasn't looking
you would make decisions that I would not recognize
even if I saw them with my own eyes

So if I am with a mere version of who you are
which is he? Jeckyl or Hyde?
and why would I wait to find out?
why would I gamble and wait for more lies?

Oh this fleeting life
we are but a vapor
and then we are gone....
to NOT honor each other
in the little time we are allotted
is unthinkable
and true love unreachable
if we cannot first slay our own dragons
and protect the one we love from the parts of us
that want to destroy us....

The fight is a personal one first
before we can fight for another,
don't we first have to actually belong to ourselves?
what do I have to offer you,
if I do not first own myself,
my decisions and actions,
my thoughts and my fears?

If I cannot control the desires that will directly effect you
and our lives together,
then we are never cohesive
and the angle is selfish from the start
driven from a place of survival,
because you are convinced you need that thing

That thing that calls to you
again and again
and it feeds you
a specific kind of food that causes a specific kind of craving
that forges a very fine tuned need

And that need owns you
it crowds out everything else in your life
until you are alone
and Satan loves you alone
putty in his hand

But you know the truth don't you?
that flickering light of truth
that burns in your heart
that will not go out
as long as Jesus is on your lips
as long as you spend time on your knees
in the great fight of your life with your prayers
the fight for YOU
the fight for a chance at the life He meant for you
the life far better than the one that is tossing you now
the life that has you reaching and grasping for
but never holding....

His way is better
His path effortless in a way you do not yet know
the way you cannot know
until you reset
until you let go.



First Memories

My childhood memories are like snapshots or slides
with no sound
there are tastes and sensations
but like watching an old soundless home movie
you are relying on other stimulation
and maybe what you are seeing in your minds eye
is heightened with remembering
the mute button causing you to intently take it all in....

my earliest memories,
besides the very VERY first one
where Grandma Jodie has me seated on top of the counter
in her kitchen
she is making me a sandwich and is asking me if I want mint jelly
want what?
and then she lets me taste it
and just like that no more memory....

Cut to the Bahamas
is it years later, and how could that be?
But I am in Kindergarten, on an island
in confined paradise
a world contained only by proximity
in my heart it is boundless and wild and interesting always...

I remember the Junkanu band on early mornings
having their own tribal parade that for them must be like their church
and I wonder at how fun it seems,
and now as an adult I admire their brand of celebrating

I remember grilling sea creatures on the beach
my Dad spearing lobster
walking right out of the dark part of the water into the clear part
and bringing those lobsters right up to us on the shore
where we dug a hole to put them in
and then he walked right back out into the water again

I remember being in the glass bottom dingy
staring down into the clear deep water
and being terrified of sea urchins and of falling in

I remember skimming across the water
that might as well been a sky
because beneath the surface we shot past countless sea stars
star fish they would bring up onto the boat and I can remember touching them....

hunting for land crabs at night
so thrilling!
We loved the finding!
The crabs sideways crawling
Dad shining a light into their eyes to stun them,
then stepping on their backs
and snatching them up wriggling
into the blue net bag....

and then Wednesdays we would boil them
and make vats of spaghetti
and lobster too
a weekly party
of friends like family
everyone healthy and tan looking

I remember spinning on the porch
sitting on the underpart of my mom's clay throwing wheel
the smell of formaldehyde as the sea stars laid out,
stiffened in the sun

I remember flying in a tiny plane
to go shopping on another island
and getting caught in a terrible storm
and fearing we were going down
that we really might die...

our dog Spry and the most dramatic day
when wild dogs ripped his throat open
and Dad dumped something down his throat to heal it
did he die? I don't remember...

I remember my dads hand at the back of my bike seat....
don't let go Dad!!
OK, just concentrate...and then...
BEA!!! Look! You are doing it! You are riding all by yourself!!

Then I am being held over the black part
the part of the water we fear
because that is where the sea urchins are
that is where the barracudas emerge from and come after us
I am at some sort of day camp, some kind of island YMCA and
I am so scared and these two teenagers manage to peel my clawing hands off of them
and then I am swimming
or maybe I am running in water
pure fear performance
and either way, from then on
I am a fish

I remember my Dad running in the water after the barracudas
that tried to swoop in to get us
he would raise his hands over his head and yell and
run with crashing thrashing footsteps
and I remember thinking he was my hero

I remember floating under the clear water
in utter silence
with my mask and with God
watching the way the waves moved the sand beneath it
in subtle wavy patterns
and time stopped for me then
and I remember wondering what would happen
if I just stayed there forever
and I guess became a mermaid
but my thinking wasn't as fanciful
just simple and contented
totally at peace

I remember Bahamian bread
the texture and sweet taste of it
of bartering flip flops and man made things
just to get some

and the spice mix called soogie Mama
and how it tasted with nutritional yeast
on popcorn mom made homemade on the stove
in the same pot that I still have...
and I've tried to recreate the mix from memory but was it
cumin? and paprika? and salt and what???
I cannot quite remember what spices came together....
but I wish I did.

I remember the first time I saw my Dad cry,
I worried for him and then when I knew why he had tears
I cried for my own loss too
his mom, my grandma had died
I crawled under my bed and sobbed and said I was never coming out

we had a babysitter and I couldn't even draw her face
in my memories she is this presence in my peripheral
present but elusive
one time we found a tarantula on the doorknob
and had to get the man who drives the bus around the island
to come and get it off for us
with his flash light in the dark night

another time we were going to make popcorn,
I went into the cabinet to get the pot
and there was this slithering body
 I slammed the door and ran to the sitter
when Dad got home, he and a friend fished it out
and we kept it on the porch in a big aquarium tank
and fed it huge fat bull frogs
and we'd watch them slowly go down....

I remember swimming with friends
my top falling off and gasping
because there were boys
the beginnings of my self conscious

and another time
my mom and her nudist friend Newfie
on the beach nude sunbathing
and encouraging me to throw abandon to the wind
(there was no way they were going to talk me into that)
and I secretly thought they were both crazy

and another time
this too vivid memory of Newfie answering the door
totally naked and I was confronted with her crotch
too close to the height of my face...

and then falling asleep with my first massage
by Newfie
and being moved to the pallet of pillows and blankets on the floor
where the rest of the kid massage victims were placed
all of us in physical bliss
transported to dreamland
forever henceforth a victim to the charms of massage...

I remember the batik factory
and being fascinated by the energy of the women creating
of the colors, and the wax
a solid and now ironed through....

I remember accepting Jesus into my heart
singing songs to him on the swings and looking into the blue sky
with the big puffy white clouds
and knowing He was up there loving me

I remember Salty the singing song book and all the songs he sang
putting on that play for the church of all those songs
with puppet play
I can still sing all the words to all those songs to this day

I also remember carrying my little brown cassette player
and buying tapes at the little grocery store
Samantha fox especially, and walking and singing those songs
my first realization of my addiction and love for music and singing along

I remember "mid rats", a night when Mom and Dad let us stay up late
and go to the cafeteria for a midnight feast of everything breakfast
with heavy eyelids but freakish delight with our good fortune
we would eat too much and fall into food comas,
were we carried home? I am sure....

These impactful significant memories.
each one telling a story of how I'd be later, how I would handle things
how all my memories would become touchstones in a glass globe
that I can look in and revisit to this day
my earliest and first memories on a tropical island
etched into me
effecting me to the core
the beach babe through and through
dreaming of an island way to be
an island kind of philosophy
it has never left me
from beach decor
to Men At Work

in my memories too
it is where my family is frozen
the last time we were a family
and not broken
where I had my mom's influence
as much as my Dad's
and I wonder if I remember my interactions with my Dad most
because I would have to go most of the rest of my life
without them
without him

it makes sense why I so cherish my memories of the Bahamas
it is my first childhood memories
of a magical island wonderland
but it is mostly where I had a DAD
a Dad who loved and cared about doing things with me
who influenced and taught me
who proved to be my hero
again and again

my Dad, who could do anything.
and above all things
won my heart.


Not too easy to love

I am not easy to love
did I say I would be?
not that I am unloveable
but that I am hard to hold
like fireflies
I was not meant for a jar
to be contained
or defined
the moment you categorize me
the magic is lost

I am not easy to love
but I do not mean in the convential way
or maybe I do
I can make a home
but cooking and cleaning
only take 2 stars
but I make up for all that
with kisses and cards

I am not easy to love
because I have traveled a road
paved with much loss
and muddled with trust broken
and mared with my own wary need
to make sure I do not expose all of me
to such harshness in the future
for my own self preservation
this makes me difficult to love....
just try to get through my exterior wall of protection....

I am not easy to love
because I need to evolve and grow constantly
and I need you to be consistant in your love, patiently
but be unpredictible with your personal adventure
so you are surprising me with your ideas and dreams
I want to know you are always thinking
and not just of me....

I want to feel I influence you for the better
but I want you to be a self made man
and by self made, I mean God made
living out your destined plan
and I want to seek my plan too
and marvel at all that together
and marvel at each other
and then come together

I sometimes think I was given too many feelings,
too much awareness and not enough balance.
I am old fashioned grounded with wings on my eyes
with worn old shoes
and a head in the skies
a yearning for comfort
but too bored by too comfortable

for all these good reasons and more
I am not too easy to love.


40 something

Being 40 is bizarre, but only because it seems like life is happening faster than I can catch up to it at this point. My gauge is the people who I went to high school with or knew as a kid. I see their faces changing on facebook and I know I must be evolving in front of them in the same way. It is easier to avoid the changes happening in your own body because I am not standing around looking in a mirror all day....on purpose! Ha.

40 is putting on moisturizer every morning after your shower, its wearing glasses for the first time while reading because "WOW is that so much clearer!!!" Its not taking things as seriously and taking other things very seriously because you've arrived at this point in your life where drama doesnt have a place and life is too short to waste on the negative weighing you down. 40 is watching all of the great comedians and actors you grew up loving trasition to heaven, Its knowing in your gut that you will blink and you will be the grandparent. I thought that by 40 I would have arrived somewhere, that things would pan out somehow but the bar just keeps getting raised and all the tools in my tool box that I have aquired are capeable of bigger things and I am being called to use them. I also thought I'd get on some type of invisible track that would direct my life instead of off roading it and winging it, but I have come to find that life will always be some form of off roading.....full of pot holes and adventure. You are propelled forward with the breeze in your hair and then the next month you are stuck in a grid locked traffic jam. Its just life. Ive learned that the more flexible I can be , or rather the less rigid, the better I do. The world is ran by humans after all, fully capeable but eternally flawed.

I think it is because I work part time at a nursing home that I am keenly aware that what could meet me in the end is something I never want. You would have to drag me into a nursing home environment to live. There is no breathing there. It is just a place to wait, to reexamine everything you did and did not do until you cant anymore. This environment highlights being 40. It makes me depressed and makes me want to really live all at the same time. It makes me want to have another baby before I cant....because I loved being a mom to my babes so young but also like starting over in the middle and extending all the best parts of what I have already experienced and loved so much.
But there is severe reality attatched to that....are you too old? Do you have the energy? Is that going to tie you down? and Uh P.S. you dont even have health insurance, how would THAT work? The reality check of my thoughts doesnt keep me from having a whicker basenette in my extra room and drawers full of baby blankets and sweet little

At 40 I am still winging it, still have nothing in savings and borrowing from my investment if I get in a bind. I just now hired an accountant to make sense of my deranged way of filing my taxes.  My car has over 102,000 miles on it and I still owe 17k and its upside down in value because I drive too much for work....and I am not sure how to make that all work and the whole time the clock goes TICK TOCK while my mileage climbs higher....and yet I have never been more successful in work in my life. Go figure. Sometimes I feel like a college kid juggling the responcibilities of 3 adults. I do all the mom stuff, all the house stuff, I manage my own life and work, as well as someone elses...and yet some days it is utter chaos, and I have to pause to regroup and refocus on what is the most important thing to tackle in that moment.

40 is watching my kids grow to my same height at just 12 years old and reminding me of how far away from an infant they are. Even from the moment you cannot pick them up anymore, it is a heavy reality. This little being that I cradled and sheltered in my arms is now inconsoleable let alone holdable....and I relish the times they still crawl into bed next to me and lay their head on my chest and say "I love you Mom." It reminds me that they are in there....those little beings that once looked to me for everything. I am hoping they always need me, but in the way of comforting. My real hope is that they are becoming fully functional , incredibly successful human beings and that they thrive at this thing called life. One day I will no longer be in my 40s....they will be the ones turning 40.... and by then I'll be in my 70's and I'll laugh at this posting and what Ive said here, Thinking I was still such a child and I should have been able to play more....even if only in my mind.

I dont know yet what 42 holds, but I am in no hurry. Seems like your body aches in one way or another at 40 and if you just turn the wrong way when loading the groceries into the car, you could tweak your back...You still long to be desired but wittness so many people older than you that obviously dont give a crap or the flip side...those who are so obsessed with staying "young" that it freaks you out. You have windows of intimacy that make you lose all reality...and losing reality is always great. More of that please....but life is busy and you dont always make time to lose it.

Most of all it lurks in the back of my mind that my mom died at 49. I think my Nonnies Dad died in his 40s too. I hear about random women dying in their sleep...and she was only 40 something....with 3 kids in elementary school....or I hear about guys in their late 40's dropping dead of a heart attack. There is this weird highlighted awareness of death at this age. I dont think I ever even acknowledged it at all before now....but everytime I go to an estate sale....where it is painfully obvious that all of someones belongings have been carefully laid out and priced....I get this morbid feeling that I never got before, and most of the time I feel sad at how ordinary their collection of things is....without any real soul to them, maybe even the bare necessities. I think about how later in their life no one ever came over and now today, after they have died there are hundreads of people wandering around eyeing their left behind belongings.

I think too much still and feel too much in a way that leaves me feeling isolated. Especially if I go long enough without talking to a like minded person who thinks too much too. Maybe I will never come to the point where I truly feel seen and understood in my life. Maybe that is only a job for Jesus. Or maybe by 80 I wont have a need for that anymore. That makes me only halfway there. Only halfway there is good. I cannot forget that ultimately we are HOMEWARD BOUND. Not meant for this earth, only visiting...and I am blessed to have experienced 41 years so far. Blessed to have a story and so so much more.


The way of Love lately

I used to have this thing about jobs
If in about 3 years I did not evolve or advance
in more ways than one
I would find a new job
most times a completely different job
and then I would come alive again

I am wondering if this is how my relationships are playing out now
the three year itch
where I calculate how much evolution is going on within me
around me
upon me

All these stops and starts
two steps forward
two steps back
the wrong kind of two step
when I wish to be twirling

If I am not advancing
not discovering...
(and not in a pushing
hurrying sort of way either...)
more so,
am I elated about anything?
am I FEELING it?

am I growing mentally
expanding spiritually,
mastering the art of self discipline and shrinking physically?
am I surprising myself
and creating?

If I get to a slow crawl in my spirit
or even worse I start sliding backwards
if the water is stagnant
and I feel confined or agitated
held back or chastised
it is doom for me

I can feel myself withering
a kind of dying
and I can justify it as selflessness or tolerance or
an ability to absorb and adapt...
but then the imbalance happens
and my focus slides to the negative automatically
and I doubt and I worry for the collective futures being threatened by us both
EVEN if my nature is positive
like an incessant buzzing from the radio while your most favorite number one hit is playing...

and do not doubt if I truly love,
not for one minute,
one second.

I give you my heart
even if I have to wrestle it back later
for fear it will stop ticking.

see I love you,
but to survive I have to love me better.


The kind of saving that doesnt pay

There is a kind of saving up
that will never pay out

Like the hoarding of metal

Hours of collecting
until it is a big ugly rusty heap
and you'll go to cash in the whole lot
and it wont be worth one hours work
let alone all that space you gave up
and the eyesore it created to keep it

So why do you do it?
and keep justifing that it was free?
when the time you invested into it
doesnt justify your energy?

Like a bad relationship
that subtracts and takes away over time
there is less and less of you
able to give
because you spent all that time

Putting up with lesser than
will drain you of what you are able to give
will rob you of time that could be spent
building an empire of good
able to benefit a multitude

Fine tune and prioritize,
clean house and sweep it out
discover treasure you did not even know you had
while keeping only what creates delight 

Use your time wisely,
for it is fleeting

No messes and drama ,
for they steal precious moments
that become far too few

Take my hand and begin a work
that pays you back my friend,
I fine investment that pays
in the end.