The God of the Ax Head

One of the most well-known miracles of the Old Testament is God parting the Red Sea to allow the Israelites an escape from centuries of slavery and to take a needed step toward the promises made generations previously.

Perhaps one of the lesser known miracles is an ax head floating to the surface after it’s dropped in a body of water. In the book of 2 Kings, there is a disciple of Elisha who loses an ax head in the water while cutting wood. He is distressed because this ax head was borrowed, and God performs a miracle through Elisha to retrieve the ax head.

Copyright: MFriesen Photography

The same God who parted the Red Sea to save an entire people - His people - also caused an ax head to float.

This has been on my mind and on my heart a lot, and it brings me so much hope and comfort from the closeness of our God.

Yes, He is big and does big things with nations and generations in mind. He parted the Red Sea not just to save the fleeing Isrealites - though that was definitely part of it - but also to fulfill His plan and promise to Abraham and his descendants, which ultimately fulfilled His plan of redemption for all mankind.

This is absolutely a macro-sized miracle for the grand scheme of things. I mean, you don’t get more “Big Picture” than that, right?

 

I believe He is the God of such things: nations and generations and setting things in motion that will take time, possibly lifetimes, to come to fullness.

I pray to the God who parted the Red Sea, believing He can still save our nation, bring us to His grace and power and authority. He can part the proverbial Red Sea of lies and deceit, selfishness and pride, greed and hate to make a way to free those held captive by sin and shame.

But, I also pray to the God who raised the ax head.

The miracle that was not part of the larger plan of salvation, but one that was personal to Elisha’s disciple. Having to replace an ax head would not have burdened the whole nation, but it would have burdened that man, and God, through His generosity and care, lifted that man’s burden.

I love this because our God is big enough for nations and generations yet personal enough for the individual. He is so intimately involved with His people, His kids. He cares about our lives, our cares, our hurts, our burdens.

I love that I pray to a God who parted the Red Sea yet also raised the ax head.

A Hazy Road

Looking through writing prompts, I came across this one: Smoke, fog, haze: Write about not being able to see in front of you.

Good ol’ writing prompts. This could have led me down a path of fiction; instead, it reminded me of a recent conversation I had.

This isn't the actual card, but it's pretty darn close. Photo 

I was asked to choose from a selection of photos one that reflects my walk with God right now. There were so many options – natural settings, city dwellings, people laughing, a kid crying, abstract patterns, mathematical equations, road signs.

I chose an image of a tree-lined road mostly obscured by fog. I’m sure you have either seen a similar image somewhere or experienced it first hand – what is immediately in front of you is clear, but anything beyond is in a haze.

I know where God has me right now – this part of the road is acutely in focus. However, there is also a road ahead that I will travel, but I don’t know what that looks like right now. I know there is more to my life than what I see, I just don’t know what the ‘more’ is.

On this hazy road, I have two options. The first is to stay where I am, only do what I am doing. After all, it’s clear here; it seems safe in its definition and clarity.

The second, the one that is more frightening, is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, moving forward into a bit of the unknown, saying yes to new opportunities, daring to dream new dreams. The second option requires more faith than planning, more expectancy than knowledge.

The second option still requires work, of course, but it releases the outcome of that work willingly (and rightfully) to God. It requires letting go of needing to know the when and why of it all. It requires a daily choice to trust in His plan, His process, and His promises.

The second option is the more frightening one, true, but it is also the more exciting one, the more rewarding one. It is the one that allows me to focus on the present, letting both the past and future exist in a bit of a haze. It is the one that leads to more than I could have planned or even dreamed for myself. It is the one that leads to a deeper love and trust in God. It is the one that will allow me to impact more lives than just my own.

It is the option I am choosing with all its haze and promise.

Is The New Year Really a Blank Page?

Scrolling through social media, I’ve seen a lot of “today is a blank page” type of messages for the new year. They are meant to be encouraging, inspiring us to make those changes that have been on our minds the last few days, weeks, months even.  

The promise of a new beginning, a fresh start without the bad stuff sounds wonderful, freeing perhaps. I understand the appeal, I really do, but I don’t necessarily want to begin this year on a blank page. 

The first half of last year, quite honestly, was one of the toughest times of my life. In many ways, it was even harder than the previous year because dealing with the previous year’s grief left me emotionally and mentally exhausted. Things normally handled with reason and optimism, knocked me down, and it took me far longer to get up than it ever had. For a couple months, it seemed I had set up residency deep in the valley. 

Why would I want to take that into a new day let alone a new year?  

I see the temptation of wiping away the bad - there was real pain this year I wouldn’t want to repeat, but out of that, I grew so much and in areas I didn’t even know needed pruning or growth. 

I learned to let go of expectations which only led to disappointment and frustration. I let go of a few dreams (and a couple people) to make room for new ones. I learned when I get knocked down, I need to dig deep - dig deep into God’s Word, dig deep into His promises, not mine, dig deep into the community He has provided.  

I learned the difference between simply ignoring fears and really letting go of them, the difference between leaning on God and really leaning into Him, the difference between talking to God and really talking with Him.  

So, even though there were a few months occupied with struggle, the year will not be defined by it; instead, it will be defined by the growth and the lessons that came out of the struggle, through it, in the depths of it. And those lessons will be the first few sentences in this next chapter. There was a sowing in the struggle, and I believe there will be more growth to come, more insight to be harvested - growth and insight that cannot come from a totally blank page. 

So, are there new opportunities ahead? Every day. But a completely clean slate? Not quite.

While Listening to Hillsong...

I was listening to Hillsong’s “Not Today” on my way to work today…okay, more accurately, I was belting out with passion and maybe some choreography “Not Today” on my way to work (if you witnessed this on the freeway…you’re welcome), and the line “fear is a liar running out of breath” hit me, like it does every single time I listen to this song.

I love this line. I sing it, recite it, embrace it.

Fear is emotional, psychological, and spiritual. We mask it in words like insecurity, anxiety, or stress, but ultimately, it’s all fear. Whether it’s fear of the known or unknown, it whispers its threat of what’s to come and what we can’t control.

In my teens, there were so many things I didn’t do because I was afraid of failing. Somehow it was easier to keep it as a one-day dream or goal than to try and (gasp!) fail. Sadly, I missed out rather than allow myself to stumble and learn.

As much as I was afraid of failing, thankfully, I knew life needed to be lived and experienced. Going to college was a huge step in putting what I wanted above what I feared. There absolutely was a part of me that thought I would get there and find out I didn’t have the smarts to succeed. Turns out, I did.

I think that’s one of the reasons I love that line so much. So often fear whispers lies of inadequacy and doubt. I have found, however, the more I lean into what God has called me to do and lean on Him to get me through it, the more breathless fear becomes.

There are so many things that I have tried now that I just don’t think I would have been able to do had I not practiced pushing back against fear, had I not wanted to grow and be more than I was.

This past weekend I was on a mic in front of a lot of people for a women’s event, and I didn’t faint, vomit, or die. Twenty-year-old me might have done all three at just the thought. That same day, I led a breakout session and received good feedback…so yay!!

This is not to say that every time I try something or take a risk it works out. I don’t always master a new skill; I’m not always successful; I don’t always get the outcome I was hoping for. But even in the “failure” of something new, I grow. If nothing else, I learn the beauty of letting go.

Among the many wise statements of Ralph Waldo Emerson, one of my favorites is “Unless you try to do something beyond what you have already mastered, you will never grow.” This is one of his pithier statements, which is good because it’s a little easier to keep in your pocket and pull out when needed.

So, when Fear whispers its lies, I’ll remind myself its breath is running out.

The Struggle is Real

This phrase is used flippantly and used often. Either in spite of this or because of it, one of my favorite discussions I have with my students is about struggle. 

We wrapped up reading Ernest Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea – if you’ve not read it, it’s about an old dude and, well, the sea, specifically his struggle to catch a fish after a dry spell, struggling when he hooks the biggest fish of his life, then struggling to keep the sharks at bay. Spoiler alert: he doesn’t manage to succeed at that last task and his prize is eaten in front of his helpless eyes.

Now some would argue that poor Santiago’s struggle was in vain; however, Hemingway’s underlying theme is not about the outcome, but rather the struggle and how one carries oneself in the midst of struggle. Regardless of the outcome, one can still be seen as heroic.

When looking at this allegorical little novella, we get a little philosophical in my class, and here’s why: we all struggle.

There are times when drowning in disappointment, discouragement, insecurities, or mistakes feels inevitable, and when the best we can do is keep our heads above water, we can feel like we’re failing. This is precisely why I make space for this conversation.

One of the main ideas I hope will stick with my students is that struggling is not failing. If we are struggling, it means we haven’t given up. If we’re struggling, we’re not drowning. If we’re still struggling, there is hope.

Sometimes we get discouraged by the struggle, especially if it’s something that we’ve been struggling with for a while. We may get frustrated with our circumstances or ourselves because we can’t believe we still have this same issue. Or perhaps we get blindsided by a struggle we thought we had overcome and the frustration is having to deal with this thing yet again.

This past week I was dealing with disappointment and that disappointment opened up the flood gates to past struggles. It’s no fun; it’s discouraging. I’d been there, done that. I was over those past insecurities and doubts, wasn’t I? Apparently not.

The good news? I didn’t hide from the struggle – I fully embraced it in all its ugliness. I literally cried out to God my hurt and frustration. I was honest with myself and vulnerable with those who encouraged me but also allowed me to feel my emotions. This is the thing Hemingway missed: we do not have to struggle alone. We have a God who cares, who listens. We have community. Despite how it may feel, we are not alone – we just have to reach up and reach out.

I honestly don’t know what lesson I’m meant to be learning in this latest go around, but I do know this, that’s okay. I can still trust in God and His plans while wrestling with the why and the frustration. I mean, Jacob quite literally wrestled with God and received a new name, a new identity (albeit with a limp).

I also know this: this too shall pass. I know this because I am still here, I am still struggling, and I am stronger for it.

In the waiting…

I’m reading Timothy Keller’s book Jesus the King and just finished a chapter on waiting. I’ve been thinking about this a lot since Monday (when I discussed this chapter with friends), and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m pretty patient…until I’m not.

I feel I’ve gotten rather adept at exercising patience. I mean, I work with teenagers. (Okay, that’s a cheap joke – they’re actually quite wonderful.) In truth, I do try to give a situation time. I’ve even garnered more patience as a driver. Usually.

When I reflect, I’ve had a few things for which patience was required: my degree wasn’t earned overnight, fractured or strained relationships didn’t repair themselves, and the woman who stares back at me every morning is still a work in progress.   

What I have discovered about myself is that I do better in situations where waiting takes the form of tasks. In school, I had papers and classes and deadlines and more papers. I had smaller goals that I met along the way to the larger one. I could still feel accomplished; I could see and measure the progress. There is a patience exercised, but it’s easier when I have some control (or at least the illusion of it) over the progress, as I am seeing the goal come more and more into focus with each step, each task.

When there’s no more to “be done” but wait, however, that’s when my patience needs reinforcing. This is when discouragement can take root and overshadow promise or determination. The waiting, after all, is the hardest part (cue Tom Petty).

In these moments, I’ve come to realize I have to be more proactive than productive. I have to proactively remind myself I’ve never regretted exercising patience. In patience, my character has grown, my trust has been realigned, and my true source of contentment has come into focus.

I have also seen this in the lives of dear friends who’ve had no choice but to wait. They’ve waited for opportunities; they’ve waited for family; they’ve waited for reconciliation; they’ve waited for healing. There were times of discouragement, sure, but now there are times of rejoicing. New jobs, new babies, renewed relationships, clean bills of health. (This is one of the reasons I love having communities where we share the trials but also the triumphs – oh, those blessed triumphs.)

There are times we have to wait alone, times when others stand with us, and still other times when we get to stand with those close to us. And there are those of us still in the waiting, still ready for what’s to come.

So, in those times when no more is to be done, we wait. We wait, and we trust. Trust in God’s plan, His process.

But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. Isaiah 40:31

Reflections from a year gone by….

This past year, I measured time differently: in firsts. My first birthday without my dad. First Father’s Day without my dad. Independence Day; Thanksgiving; his birthday; Christmas; a New Year without my dad.

There was the first time I realized a mundane Tuesday was the longest I had gone without talking with my dad and knowing every day after would break the record. Or the first time I couldn’t hold it together when a friend asked how I was.

There was the first time I avoided a neighbor because I knew he would ask after my dad, and I didn’t want to say the words that still sound so wrong.

In this year of firsts, there were also quite a few reminders.

I remembered past birthday dinners, Father’s Day car shows, Sunday mornings at church followed by a shared panini and conversation, and so many memories I have the privilege to cherish.

I was beautifully reminded how vital family and friends are in the ebbs and flows of grief, in the hot tears and the genuine laughter alike.

I was reminded again and again how big God is. His love and mercy and peace are bigger than all the firsts of this past year. His grace reached out to my dad and invited him to receive His love and salvation. And that same grace has covered me - sometimes in a supernatural peace and sometimes in the arms of a friend.

A year has gone by, and I don’t miss my dad any less, but I have learned the healing depths of love.

Grief in Stereo

I dreamed about my dad last night.

It was the second time I’ve dreamed about him. The first time - for lack of desire to describe the whole, awful thing - I wouldn’t classify as a dream but a nightmare that I’m sure was my mind’s way of processing my own sense of helplessness.

Last night’s dream, however, would normally be quickly forgotten in the routine of morning – just one of those mundane dreams that could easily be a memory of any given Tuesday. The only difference is that my dad happened to be in it.

Perhaps that’s why I cried when I woke up and when I was alone in my classroom and now as I write this. It was so natural for my dad to be part of my mundane, my everyday, so when I woke up and had to remember that’s not true – that it’s no longer my normal, I felt his absence, my loss, so acutely today.

Grief is funny that way. It reminds me of a stereo with broken speakers that cause the sound to fade in and out. Some days, the sound is distant, distant enough to allow me to focus on other things. It’s still in the background, playing its song, an unwelcomed soundtrack to life, but I can push it aside a little.

Some days, like today, the sound is full and robust and demands to be heard, demands an audience.

Gratitude in the midst of Grief

While I adjust to a new normal, I am going back to something familiar, and typing out my thoughts is what I know. As it happens, I have many thoughts on this whole process of saying good-bye without want or warning, (but I’ll save that for another time).

My thoughts today, in this moment, revolve around something else.

Each day that I grieve the loss of my dad, God has been gracious and merciful enough to temper that grief with a specific type of supernatural solace. Today, that balm is gratitude.

One of my kind friends just left my classroom. She came to offer love, comfort, and tangible help. To have one such friend is a blessing, but I have the absolute privilege of many such friends and family members. Even my students are part of this beautiful community I am blessed by.

I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who reached out, everyone who hugged, everyone who has helped my brothers and me with logistics, and everyone who has lifted us up in prayer. Please know this: it is all felt.

Thank you for reaching out and understanding that a lack of a specific response does not mean you weren’t heard or weren’t helpful. I’ve read and reread so many posts and texts, and they have brought me so much comfort. Thank you.

I have also been profoundly reminded why God calls us to community. To have people I love weep with me when I wept and laugh with me when I laughed…well, it’s hard to put the value and impact of it all into words.

So...though this might not fully or eloquently express all I’m feeling, please know I am wonderfully overwhelmed with gratitude for you and your incredible support. I am overwhelmed by God’s mercy and grace and favor that has been present through all of this and through many of you.

Update: As I finished typing this, another kind friend came to check up on me. She offered a warm hug and open ear.  

I Cannot Do Both

The last couple weeks have been a bit rough, not horrible, just definitely not smooth.

My teaching has been interrupted by minimum days, assemblies, testing, and drills (and I’ve felt under-informed as to the logistics of most of this until the last possible moment). My poor little Pip (my cute little car) is currently in the shop being repaired because someone in a hurry decided they needed to be in my lane, you know, regardless of the fact I was already there and two objects cannot exist in the same space at the same time. Plus, said driver has yet (I emphasize YET because I am still hopeful) to take responsibility for his action (or at least his insurance company hasn’t) and the damage is such that fault is ambiguous. My deductible? Not as low as one would hope. There were many witnesses. None stopped.

Physically I’ve not been sick, but I’ve been so very tired.

In all this, I was reminded of something I saw on Project Wow’s Instagram page: You can Worry or you can Worship. You cannot do both.

Granted the things I’ve listed are not life altering; in the grand scheme of life, they are a blip – I know this. Logically.

So, when I start to rehearse possible confrontations with claim adjusters or get upset my plans for the week were derailed or stress to make sure I get everything done, I stop. I breathe. I let go of my sense of control. I pray about the unknown. I let God handle it. (He’s so much better at it anyway.)

I choose to worship.

Stay. Smile.

For those who only know adult Shannon, this might be hard to imagine, but I used to be quite shy. Painfully so, actually. What might be harder to imagine? I was also a fairly quiet kid, as though I were saving my words for a time when I would know just how and when to use them.

Fast forward to now, and I’ve for sure depleted any storehouse of saved words from my childhood. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m rather overdrawn.

I have no problem starting conversations with strangers in everyday, random situations. I confuse those passing by with an eye contact-smile combination. However, every once in a while, when the stars align, or (more realistically) when there is a chance of actual rejection or vulnerability, my former timidity raises its downcast head.

A year and a handful of months ago, I traveled to Great Britain on my own and was totally fine with it, yet when going to an event put on by Hillsong Church, I began to get very, very nervous. Here I was in London with the intent of getting to know the city and its people. Going to a place full of fellow Christians was pretty ideal; I mean, we already had the whole “you love Jesus, too” thing going. If I was going to meet anyone, this would definitely be the place. But getting more nervous, I did the only thing I could think to do. I called my mom.

As moms often do, she gave me really good advice: Smile and don’t leave.

I thought, okay, I can do that. I smile a lot. Like, a lot, a lot, so that wasn’t going to be an issue. I just had to get myself there and not leave. Spoiler: Not only did I survive, but I met some incredible people.

I also internalized this advice and put it into practice again yesterday. My church hosted a community group open house of sorts. I have very much wanted to find real friendships at my church as I believe community is vital. Though rather nervous, I knew the importance of going, and I knew the rules: smile and don’t leave.

Not surprisingly, I again met incredible people (turns out, the world is full of them). I like to think I met people I will soon call friends, in fact. In full disclosure, I’m still over-analyzing my end of a few conversations because I haven’t quite figured out that part of my neurosis, but I smiled. I stayed. 

Kew Gardens

From the smallest greenhouse - the lilypad house

The Royal Botanical Gardens in Kew was absolutely breathtaking. I spent a wonderful 6 and 1/2 hours wondering around the enormous grounds.

The Rock Garden - Prettiest Rock Garden I ever did see

From incredible views atop the Treetop Walk (I posted a collage on my instagram if you are so inclined to view), to the seemingly endless park space, to the Georgian House and Kitchen, this place was so worth the price of admission. 

All that time walking around, thinking of everything and nothing all at once - simply taking in the beauty of God's creation (wonderfully manicured by the staff at Kew).

I even got my paintbrush wet, and even though it was only a few dips of color, it was a nice exercise. 

As always, I find myself planning on taking this with me when I go home - to explore the beauty close (or semi-close) to home and really take my time to explore it - to savor whatever it is that makes it beautiful.

Also, I realized that a good pair of shoes is essential.

Sunday Service Comfort

Today I attended Hillsong London (Dominion Theatre), and it was incredibly refreshing to my spirit. Not only was the worship great - though that's not surprising since it is Hillsong - the message was inspiring and the people welcoming.

The message was about worship, real worship, and how it isn't an external exercise but an internal one; it is a posture of the heart. In everything we do, we can worship because in everything we do, we can give God the glory. When we work, shop, eat, love, we are reflecting our relationship with God (for better or worse).

Now, if I find I am being short-tempered or self-centered, I can surmise that I am probably not spending enough time in the presence and in the love of God. What better way to live than to be so filled with love that it cannot but help to pour out to those around us? What better way to live than to be secure in the knowledge that the God of the universe loves you wholly? After all, isn't that what it means to live a life more abundantly?

I love being reminded that my walk with the Lord isn't a checklist of behaviors, but rather it is getting to know Him more and more. It is understanding this closeness is the true catalyst for interal and eternal changes.

A Thought from London

I am finding it hard to journal here. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I am trying too hard to find meaning in what should be simple enjoyment.

I came here for adventure and to experience the city. I am fortunate because I am getting to do just that. But I wonder if I didn't also sneak in a "life-changing" in front of that adventure goal, and now I am looking too far into the future meaning of things to simply write about the now. Everytime I meet someone or relax at a park, somewhere in the back of my head, I am adding to a pros or cons list of living here instead of just taking it in. The idea that the experience, if written down, will need to be categorized.

Even with that said, I am thoroughly enjoying my time; I'm just not writing about it like I thought I would be.

Too old for new?

When is too old? Does each dream have its own, unique expiration date? I’m 35 (just about) – though that still seems so arbitrary – and want something in the way of a life adventure, something to take me out of my comfort zone. I have daydreamed about living in a different city in a different country for a while, and for a long time, that was enough. It was enough to simply dream of the possibility. 

Then, when what I thought was an opportunity to try it out came into focus, the day dream was more of a plan. As with many dreams, reality forced me to take a step back. Turns out in my enthusiasm, I somehow missed the fact that I was a year too late for this particular (and particularly perfect) opportunity.

I’m not gonna lie – there was no shortage of disappointment or tears. There was also no shortage of over-analyzing. I had attached so much to this potential opportunity, that when it failed, I had to acknowledge how much of that daydream was, in reality, an actual dream. A real, honest-to-goodness desire of my little heart.

When I realized this little venture wasn’t going to happen, it forced me to acknowledge how much I wanted a change to my comfortable life because I don’t want to live based only on routine. After all, I don’t have a lot of the traditional things that keep one tethered – I don’t own property; I don’t have a spouse or children; I don’t even have a pet. In many ways, I’m quite free. In others, I’m quite not. I have a job that is secure and a family structure that is local and supportive.

These are not things everyone can claim, and I don’t want to be ungrateful for them. However, I also don’t want to wake up when I’m 50 and wish I’d taken a leap of faith for a chance at something slightly more than average.  

After Googling countless ways to make this happen, it seems as though a lot of the “just go and do it” type of pages were geared toward college students or recent grads – neither of which comes close to describing me. There seems to be an unspoken “you should have your life figured out after your mid-20’s” vibe there. I looked but couldn’t find the “hey, you’re mid-30’s and want something new” how-to page. Has the dream of picking up and going for broke to chase a maybe expired?

The quick answer is no. But is longer, thought out answer different? Today, I honestly don’t know. I guess I’ll let you know when I do.

Day One: Found Poem

Please forgive the quality of the photo - is was taken on my phone.

After writing 7 letters of recommendation and filling out 10+ college application forms for students, I must admit on day one of my 30 day challenge, I almost postponed the start until tomorrow. Of course, that would defeat the purpose of the challenge: to make time for creativity.

I know this one may seem like a bit of a cheat. After all, I simply circled words that someone had already published; however, I hold that this counts. It is different than it was before, and now it is mine.

I am also thinking that this 30 day challenge may require a bit more planning on my part. I do love spontaneity in my creative ventures, but perhaps being more intentional is what I need, to develop a more habitual creativity.

Well, I have to say, I am looking forward to the next 30 days.

2015, Let's do this

I figured in the slue of 2015 New Year's centered posts, I'd add to the noise as well. (Seriously, how'd we get to 2015 already?)

I'm not usually one for New Year's resolutions because...who cares. However, I'm embracing the idea this year, thirty days at a time. Last year, my boss brought up the idea and extended the 30 challenge to the entire staff. Promise to yourself to do something for 30 days. Not bad, really. 30 days to a new habit.

I'm starting off 2015 with the challenge to create something everyday in the month of January. It's a bit of a broad stroke creativity challenge from Pinterest inspired crafts to new recipes - most likely also found on Pinterest. So perhaps, in part, this first challenge is to justify my Pinterest addiction, but at least I'll be channeling that addiction into something positive. As long as something exists at the end of the day that didn't at the beginning, I'll consider it a win.

I want to try new things and experience a me that is more productive with what God has given me and not wasteful of the precious time we have here.

Happy New Year, Dear Friends!

Write Club Meeting 1

It was so fun joining the writing magic in today's meeting. Once the prompt was created, I sat down to participate and had a couple false starts but finally a sonnet. Here is what came about:

Today's random prompt brought to you by The Amazing Story Generator: After a month-long fast, a Shakespearean scholar leads the charge against a zombie army.

False start #1: I was aware I was having one last sentient thought; one that married my former love with what was to be my new obsession: “A brain! A brain! My kingdom for a brain!”

False start #2: Young Edward, having sought clarity through fasting and meditation, realized too late how poor his timing actually was – always was, really. While he had been pouring over each of Hamlet’s soliloquies, devouring the depressed Dane’s lamentations instead of bread and butter, he had been, in reality, wasting away and now found himself ill-prepared for awaited him.

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Finally, a sonnet: 

Lo, an army awaits words of wisdom

From the mouth of scholarly Edward

How best to defeat this zombie kingdom.

With rotting flesh, void of spoken word,

Abominations rise from the cursed grave -

Damned spirits in search of flesh to devour.

They hide in darkness, in crevice and cave,

Threatening dominion in every hour.

“Hold them off, by Heaven, take them down.

Swift, run them through, though they lack life to bleed –

Most efficient be, sever the beats’ foul crown.

We few, we angry few must take the lead.

Though few numbered, we must together stand;

Your oaths, your courage, your swords we demand!”

Awesomeness, Pure Awesomeness

Created by the talented Rachel Fieldhouse at
 http://thefieldhouses.wix.com/designs

So I've had the very strong desire to start a creative writing class for a while (years, actually); however, due to various administrative reasons this has not come to pass. I've also toyed with starting a writing club at school, so at least kids interested could have a place to congregate, write, and share.

As a disclaimer, I should confess that I am often full of good intentions that don't always manifest.

Enter my friend and colleague, Micah. She lit the fire (and graciously will share in the responsibility), and, lo and behold, Corona High School now has a write club!

Today was our first meeting, and we had kids show up! They intentionally stayed after school to share in the love that is creative writing! We had a fun little prompt. They wrote. We shared. It was amazing. I left work today on such a high, high note.

After today's meeting, I am so looking forward to a year with these incredibly talented and fun writers.

Excuse me while I squee.

Lost: One Memory Keeper

I’ve lost my journal. This makes me a bit sad. Very sad. Maybe not very – I haven’t quite decided yet. It’s not that there is anything in that colorfully bound little book of immediate importance, but there are things I will never get back: random musings, a piece of my memory captured in words. 

I know part of writing is the mere, therapeutic act of getting down what swims in one’s head – a large part, really. But another great part is the opportunity to look back and read a moment in time, to reflect on a sentiment and smile at the memories, brief though they might be, staring back up from the page.