I’m Touched to My Core

I have been working my way through One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp since Christmas.  This book has changed my life, my heart.  Everything really.  I’m counting my gifts and keeping eyes open.  Looking for God.

I also follow her blog.  It’s always a good message with gorgeous pictures.  The way she writes is poetry.  It always seems to hit my heart strings.  Today, though.  Today may have been different.

Her post today at A Holy Experience broke me down entirely.  I read and had I been somewhere quiet, I would have cried and wept until nothing was left.  I may still do so when the moment arises.  Today, I know now that the hardness of my heart has softened.  And words have fallen to tenderize those tough places in my soul.

Why hadn’t I heard about this before?  Why does the world not scream out against such travesty?  And this has led to hard eucharisteo, hard thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving that I, who was a teen pregnancy, is alive when others weren’t allowed that gift.  Thanksgiving despite the horror.  I feel the weight and I wonder how I can bear this.

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Posted by on April 16, 2013 in Seeing God


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Birds & Beauty

I have had the extreme pleasure of spending my early mornings outside on my front porch.  I have always been drawn to the natural world for inspiration.  Even if I must sit huddled in fleece, sipping coffee, then I will.  And sitting out on my porch, for brief moments, I can see God.

This is not a form of nature worship.  I am not worshiping trees and birds.  But I can see the green fuzz come out on the tree branches and the squirrels chasing each other as they search for nuts, and in that I see the beauty that God has created.  His image mirrored for those with open eyes and a quiet heart.  There is a group of four birds that, every morning, flit about and do a dance in the air.  They swoop, dive and careen around each other in this delicate ballet of aerodynamics.  And I can only sit with my mouth open in amazement.

The robins bob about.  I remember my grandmother telling me that they stop to listen for worms, to explain their stop and start behavior.  And to this day I hold my breath to keep from hindering their hunt.

I find I have to have this time.  Every morning, every day.  It is an incomplete day without this time.  Just me and God mirrored into my eyes.

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Posted by on April 15, 2013 in Seeing God


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The darkness encloses
As I push against the background

Straining against the pressure
I wait and catch my breath
Just five more minutes

And I will break through
With sun on my face
And sky above my head

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Posted by on April 3, 2013 in Poems


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Spying & Dying

The paranoia seeps in
Like cold rainwater through worn shoes.
I feel the freezing squelch of mistrust and suspicion
Every time I step out.

The hairs stand on end,
Like so many troops brought to attention,
The alarm sounded for the enemy’s approach.
And I cannot be at ease.

I know what they would do,
What they would say,
And I must endure.

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Posted by on February 4, 2013 in Poems


Research & Romance

I have been reflecting on the writing process over the last few days.  Part of my writing involves nonfiction, research based writing.  This is mostly for my classes, though I try to bid for jobs on E-lance and other forums to bring in a little extra cash.  I imagine that for most people, research can be tedious and boring.  For myself, it is an adventure.  I equate it to almost like an RPG game.  I can sit for hours researching without any writing in mind, simply to inform and learn.  But, I must admit, my creative writing is akin to a romance.

It woos me.  It calls me to sit and imagine and write.  Its an uncovering and discovering on a completely different level from research, like two lovers spending a lifetime learning each other inside and out.  This is new for me.  As I branch out of my nonfiction style, I am slowly learning more about this new romance.  It has taken some change and a different perspective.  But I am glad for expanding beyond nonfiction.  It’s worth it.

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Posted by on December 29, 2012 in Writing


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An update

Waiting for a response to my submission can be nerve-wracking.  After 3 months, I contacted the magazine and they responded.  After delays due to staff changes, they were still considering my short story for publication.  I can continue to check online, and I can email them again in 3 months if I haven’t gotten a response.  A mixed answer.  Hopeful on the one hand, but it causes me to squirm with anticipation.

In other news, I have a bare-bones skeleton of my novel completed now.  NaNoWriMo was exactly what I needed to push me.  While I didn’t hit 50,000 words in any way, shape, or form, the story is out of my brain.  Now comes the time of tweaking it.  In some ways, this feels good.  I wrote a story.  A long story at that and one that I think is at least decent.  Is it ready for people to read besides myself?  Nope.  But at least I’m done.


Posted by on December 18, 2012 in Short Story


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Where are you, Allen Ginsberg?

“I saw the best minds . . . ”
And I don’t see them anymore.
Just the weak and weary march of brains
Burdened and enslaved.
The land starves and the people wither.

In this land, the Dead still dance,
Whether they have life or not.
The dirt grows deeper as we sink down this hole
Dug for us by generations past.

I sit and spend,
Spinning like the world under me.
This is how it works, right Mom?
And yet it doesn’t seem right.

Something seems off,
Maybe the broken light bulb,
Shattered in a fit of rage.
Maybe the damaged soul,
Silently crying out.
Maybe the fluttering one-winged butterfly,
Unable to take off.

Where are you, Allen Ginsberg?

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Posted by on November 10, 2012 in Poems


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