Waiting for the Kingdom, living for the now,
Finding comfort and guidance in His holy word,
Faith in Him, in community, in family and friends,
A shining example of those who Witness, making sure His name is heard.
Saplings grown to mighty trees,
Loving sons of a loving mother,
Phone calls, visits, love so strong,
A resilient cord, from mother to brother to brother.
Living in this world, preparing for the next,
A lifetime of community, a network of friends,
Family and the word, song and story,
Sharing the news of the days when joy will never end.
(For Miss Annette Marcus, with love and thanks for sharing so many things…so much more than just a roommate, I hope I can call you a friend.)
(Edit: I truly apologize to anyone who was subjected to that “unidentifed individual”s rant this morning. It took me a bit to get past the hurt and once again, privacy invasion…and remember that I have control over my own comment section. So, problem solved, and my last bastion of privacy and self-expression defended. *sighs* On the bright side, I went from 6 vph (views per hour) to 21, so in the long run, she actually did me a favor! *g*)
I’ve been told that I intimidate people. My 8 yr. old nephew is so afraid of me that his psychiatrist has forbidden him to be around me. What?? I want to be a 5yr. old, or a little pup or kitten….no matter what I do, in situations where my body can’t be seen, I get called cute, adorable, etc. How does that intimidate?
Easy. Because out here, I weigh over 300 lbs., and my family, 4 step-siblings, inherited my dads slight, short, size. I was 3 months old when my mom married my father. My real father? Well, there are three or four choices, but the one that is the most logical, both from ethnic similarities and from time and availability options, is pure Hawaiian. So, my size is genetically logical, and since I helped nature along at the age of 14 or so after a particularly bad thing happened…
So…now I intimidate people. Like I needed another reason for physical people to dislike me. I mean, I thought disgust, I thought disdain, I thought simple amplitude resentment…(I understand that one…two seats on the bus, too big for amusement park rides, etc.) But I am so…timid. I’m -very- afraid of authority figures…and to me, that means everyone down to the cashier at the checkout window…anyone…well, normal. Anyone who has been able to be normal long enough to have a real job, in a real place, has so much more real life, so much power over the world, that I am petrified of dealing with them. And don’t get me started on anyone who’s had children…the power there…*shudders*
If it’s my size…how do I stop intimidating people? Never go around anyone? Stay locked in my windowless room, tapping away at my real world? I don’t know what to do. I can’t stand the thought that my physical presence -scares- people. That people are -afraid- of me. I’ve never dealt with that…ever.
My family fought…I mean physically fought…a lot. My dad has what I like to call “Little Man Syndrome” or LMS for short. This generally reveals itself in overdoing of substances…in my dad’s case alcohol and now cigarets…and a horrendous temper. Unfortunately, my step-siblings inherited that rage, and they like to express it…a lot. Now that we’re older (43 – 32?) it tends to come out more in words than fists, but when we were younger…whew. Not a window, screen, wall or door was safe from the kicking squalling ball of fury that was my siblings and I (in absence of parents, obviously).
But although they were so much “smaller” than I, and skinny to my already burgeoning thick…they beat the crap out of me, because I was afraid to hurt someone. I feel it, whenever I hurt someone. You know that stupid saying about “This is going to hurt me more than you.”? Well, unfortunately, for me, it’s true. And so now…I’m hearing that I scare people. I’m so confused…. *sighs*
Listening to the distant fireworks tonight, I thought about the fact that in some places, some countries, those might be frightening sounds. Sounds of war, or at least confusion or trouble. Whereas here, for me at least, they make me smile. Not really for any patriotic reason, but for the memories. Memories of gathering blankets and picnic food, of packing into cars or if you were lucky, walking, to get to the “best” view. Maybe it was big sponsored show, or a smaller city-run show, or even, if you could find a good height, the whole thing spread out in front of you. Waiting for dark, running in the dusk, kids tied to parents by invisible strings of excitement and anticipation; is it dark enough yet? are they starting? when-when-when?? Then somehow knowing it was time, somehow sensing the migration, everyone running through the dark to curl up next to a parent or sibling, maybe snag that last piece of lunch, all eyes to the sky. The time between that first waiting and the first small, far-off “poomph” was an eternity…but once it started, it didn’t stop. Stars and wheels, showers and fountains, balls that fell to flowers that fell to sparks…and all the while the noise. Half bang, half boom, half the whisper-roar of the crowd, squeal of small kids and yell of larger, startled but trying to pass it off as excitement. Parents/adults laughing and watching and waiting, trying to guess the next set…is that the last one? Is that? Wow, that -must- have been the last, they can’t top -that-…but they always did, until the end. Until the sky was alight with stars, booms and bangs and thumps coming so fast there was no differentiating them, just one tremendous roar of noise and light and the being on the ground, all hearts beating in time with the lights, feeling the explosions on your skin. Then it was done, just a few sad sparks falling from the heights, kids refusing to leave until the very last star winked out, then bundling sleepily into cars, or carried home, tired parents listening to a replay of every little bang or boom, and you were separate…but for a while, there, you were one animal…one being…one child, watching in wonder and awe as the stars danced, and fell, for you.
mind of diamond, sharp as sin, secrets held so deep within,
not my secrets, not my war, still I wonder what they made me for.
hunted, broken, lost and found, she knows the ways to go to ground,
she steps outside her minds embrace, to hide from the eternal chase.
she speaks as one, and sometimes two, she hears them speak, the loyal crew,
without words she sees their thoughts, the yes and no, the shouldn’ts and ought’s.
I am she, and sometimes me, and sometimes someone else beside,
my brother and my new family, they don’t know where I go to hide.
I can rove through future, past, the trappings of the worlds embrace,
and hide myself in deepest dark, in endless light and lightless Space.
they chase and hound her, hands of blue, but with her, come her family/crew,
daring both the dark and light, to keep her from their evil sight.
they chase her for the gift they gave, the torment locked so deep inside,
but safe now in the ships soft womb, she knows full well the winning side.
the captain brave, so strong and tall, her brother with his quick sure hands,
who left his life to give her hers, although he seldom understands.
the pilot with his ready laugh, who keeps the ship so straight and true,
the warrior woman, dark and tall, the lovely lady, heart of the crew,
the fixer, sweet as apple pie, the shepherd with his own dark past,
the mercenary, tough and gruff. among them, she belongs, at last.
sighing, settling, breathing out old ghosts and new, scent of resin seeping from ancient boards, new blood from the long dead.
here is a sound…sigh of a contented waking yawn. a childs soft wail in the deep of night. the quiet squeak of a stairstep under stealthy foot.
here a feeling…the deep frightened love of a new mother. the soft velvet of a summer midnight. a shiver of window frost melting beneath tiny fingertips.
there an odor…surprise french-toast for mothers day. the sharpness of a dandelion freshly picked by clumsy but loving fingers. the dry sharp smell of laundry day.
even tastes…attic explorations, a cough of dust and cardboard. icy slice of winter morning through a quickly opened door. holiday dinners, layered one over the other in a pastiche of family.
and the sights…thin black-and-white bars of shadow on a pretty pastel wall. a trail of colorful boots, wet backpack, half inside-out jacket, across a clean kitchen floor. and a moment of sleepy fright and confusion, eyes meeting mirrored eyes across a dusky hallway.
all these and more seep and stew, melding present to future, phantoms of possibility and past. the house dreams…