Silken petals spilling over my hand
Jewel-encrusted metal peeking out beneath
With a deep breath for strength
I take one step forward
Into a new life
With you.
The drama of
Planning, anticipating, accommodating
The weariness of
Writing checks and checking lists
The nervousness of
A young bride and her devoted groom
Is all put to rest
In one moment.
I do.
I do promise to love you,
Even when
Your shirts are left on the kitchen floor
The open peanut butter jar has a fly in it
The horror movie you love gave me nightmares
The checkbook is nearly empty
And all of the chocolate is gone.
I do promise to show my love for you,
Even when
My fibro flares and I don't want to be touched
I bring my work troubles home with me
I don't feel like it
My emotions are out of control
And all of the chocolate is gone.
I do swear I won't leave you
Even when
The roof springs a leak
The toilet backs up
The cars are both out of gas
My overactive fears urge me to run away
And all of the chocolate is gone.
I do promise to forgive you
Even when
You forget to say "excuse me"
The bathroom is a mess
I'm the only one eating leftovers
You forget I don't like mushrooms
And all of the chocolate is gone.
I do promise to ask for your forgiveness
Even when
I ask too much of you, really
I forget your promises
Dinner is burned/undercooked/cold (because I can cook if it's not for you)
I impulsively buy things I shouldn't
And I blame you for all the chocolate being gone.
And when we face trials
Our pasts come to haunt us
Wintery depression settles in
Health fades into pain
Loved ones pass away
Jobs end and new ones escape us
Friends betray or just forget to care
Our children, or lack of them, ravage our hearts
We forget, for a moment, how to love each other
AND ALL OF THE CHOCOLATE IS GONE...
I will still love you
I will still need you
I will still be here for you
I will still give myself to you
I will still belong to you
I promise you this.
I do.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Priorities
I should be grading ceremonial speeches right now so I can hand them back to my students. I should be not eating Tollhouse milk chocolate chips out of a Jiff reduced fat peanut butter jar so I can fit into my wedding dress at my fitting Friday. I should be saving my money instead of investing in some special-request items my fiancee mentioned wanting. I should be...I should not be... Ugh. Conditional modals really stink.
For the greater part of the last nine months, my world has revolved around my jobs, family, and a blossoming relationship with the man of my dreams. I've been working long hours, losing and desperately seeking jobs, planning a wedding, helping my church,...and letting other things slide. While it's probably understandable, and even acceptable, to adjust priorities in the rush of life, I've felt like a piece of me has been missing for a long time--actually, make that a few pieces.
Last year I was on fire. On fire for God as I gained the courage to join a new church for the first time in five years. On fire for female bonding as I found a fantastic group of ladies in a Bible study who, time and time again, have loved on me, listened to me, encouraged me, prayed for me, and put up with my insanity. :) On fire for writing as I finished a novel, went to a national conference, and even had several publishers and an agent give me the nod to submit. It's this last one that's killing me--I let those opportunities slide.
Granted, there were valid reasons why I put off the novel submission. I had realized several stylistic and thematic holes that needed fixing. I knew, as an unpublished author, I needed a fantastic draft to really help me get into the publishing world. So I decided to take the 6-8 weeks offered and work on my book. Problem was, I was working three jobs (teaching 3 classes at one college, 2 at another, and also working part-time in financial aid) and dating a man who consumed nearly every thought I had. It became easier to fall under the stress of the workload and the bumps of a new relationship with every day...and my novel began gathering dust.
Then I decided to break myself out of my months-long dry spell and submit the novel's first few chapters to a national competition. I felt so confident as I sent off my newly-revised baby off to the judges--the style was new and fresh, every mistake had been corrected, and I had managed to weave in more details to really attract a reader. A month later I was emailed back and told, nicely, that the judges didn't really care for my work. Most of them missed the point of my unusual opener and misunderstood what I was trying to do. Some nitpicked (understandably) at details that, to them, were unrealistic when they were actually autobiographical and completely valid and true (I guess truth is too strange to be fiction some days). Feeling as though I had failed, I again shelved the book. I told people I would just work on a more "standard-format" novel in the meantime, that I hadn't given up. Truth is, I gave up a long time ago. When you're facing multiple jobs, financial stress, a looming wedding where I can't seem to make anyone happy, relationship maintenance, and the thousands of changes that occur when you promise to completely change your life...writing just seemed to be a waste of time.
I suppose what hurts the most is that while I miss writing and the passion I had for a creation that was mine and God's alone, I don't really want to do it anymore. Keeping up with blogs, the research...all those things I loved to do just pale in comparison to setting up house and trying to make my future marriage as strong as it can be. Maybe my priorities have shifted. Maybe my passion for writing was a misguided obsession. Maybe I should just not even mourn the loss of a not-really-there skill and just move on with my life. There are more important things than a woman sitting alone at a computer, trying to breathe life into a flat character. Like cleaning the mouse poop out of my kitchen drawers. Like encouraging my fiancee to be creative and explore his passions for the first time in his life. Like making sure I can help put bread on the table and heat in the house. Like finally putting myself in the precarious position as a witness for Christ and daring to reach others.
Right?
For the greater part of the last nine months, my world has revolved around my jobs, family, and a blossoming relationship with the man of my dreams. I've been working long hours, losing and desperately seeking jobs, planning a wedding, helping my church,...and letting other things slide. While it's probably understandable, and even acceptable, to adjust priorities in the rush of life, I've felt like a piece of me has been missing for a long time--actually, make that a few pieces.
Last year I was on fire. On fire for God as I gained the courage to join a new church for the first time in five years. On fire for female bonding as I found a fantastic group of ladies in a Bible study who, time and time again, have loved on me, listened to me, encouraged me, prayed for me, and put up with my insanity. :) On fire for writing as I finished a novel, went to a national conference, and even had several publishers and an agent give me the nod to submit. It's this last one that's killing me--I let those opportunities slide.
Granted, there were valid reasons why I put off the novel submission. I had realized several stylistic and thematic holes that needed fixing. I knew, as an unpublished author, I needed a fantastic draft to really help me get into the publishing world. So I decided to take the 6-8 weeks offered and work on my book. Problem was, I was working three jobs (teaching 3 classes at one college, 2 at another, and also working part-time in financial aid) and dating a man who consumed nearly every thought I had. It became easier to fall under the stress of the workload and the bumps of a new relationship with every day...and my novel began gathering dust.
Then I decided to break myself out of my months-long dry spell and submit the novel's first few chapters to a national competition. I felt so confident as I sent off my newly-revised baby off to the judges--the style was new and fresh, every mistake had been corrected, and I had managed to weave in more details to really attract a reader. A month later I was emailed back and told, nicely, that the judges didn't really care for my work. Most of them missed the point of my unusual opener and misunderstood what I was trying to do. Some nitpicked (understandably) at details that, to them, were unrealistic when they were actually autobiographical and completely valid and true (I guess truth is too strange to be fiction some days). Feeling as though I had failed, I again shelved the book. I told people I would just work on a more "standard-format" novel in the meantime, that I hadn't given up. Truth is, I gave up a long time ago. When you're facing multiple jobs, financial stress, a looming wedding where I can't seem to make anyone happy, relationship maintenance, and the thousands of changes that occur when you promise to completely change your life...writing just seemed to be a waste of time.
I suppose what hurts the most is that while I miss writing and the passion I had for a creation that was mine and God's alone, I don't really want to do it anymore. Keeping up with blogs, the research...all those things I loved to do just pale in comparison to setting up house and trying to make my future marriage as strong as it can be. Maybe my priorities have shifted. Maybe my passion for writing was a misguided obsession. Maybe I should just not even mourn the loss of a not-really-there skill and just move on with my life. There are more important things than a woman sitting alone at a computer, trying to breathe life into a flat character. Like cleaning the mouse poop out of my kitchen drawers. Like encouraging my fiancee to be creative and explore his passions for the first time in his life. Like making sure I can help put bread on the table and heat in the house. Like finally putting myself in the precarious position as a witness for Christ and daring to reach others.
Right?
Monday, March 7, 2011
A Stronger "Thank You."
Every day I go swimming
Pools of salt water that start a deep jade
You point out the flecks of brown and blue
Then the pools shimmer, spill over
Into translucent drops
Picking up smeared colors
As they drain.
Yet like the bottomless pit
The pools never stop refilling
For each day we dive in again
And watch ourselves drown
"It wasn't like this before"
You say.
"I don't understand why."
I say.
"It'll get better in time."
We say.
But it hasn't yet.
There are many reasons why the pools can't
Just stay intact, whole, sparked instead of soaked
We can come up with so many
Like life in general;
Like pressures of techtonic plates
Shifting us into new worlds, new lives,
Letting the magma beneath rumble to the surface;
Like something mysteriously gender-specific;
Like the weather.
The one credit of nearly drowning every day
Is that you appreciate what moments of life surround death;
You holding my hand
You trying to absorb the pain
You daring to change my direction
You encouraging, reassuring, giving me courage to fight
You attempting, daily, to save me.
You never running away to save yourself.
The English language needs a stronger sentiment than
"Thank you."
Pools of salt water that start a deep jade
You point out the flecks of brown and blue
Then the pools shimmer, spill over
Into translucent drops
Picking up smeared colors
As they drain.
Yet like the bottomless pit
The pools never stop refilling
For each day we dive in again
And watch ourselves drown
"It wasn't like this before"
You say.
"I don't understand why."
I say.
"It'll get better in time."
We say.
But it hasn't yet.
There are many reasons why the pools can't
Just stay intact, whole, sparked instead of soaked
We can come up with so many
Like life in general;
Like pressures of techtonic plates
Shifting us into new worlds, new lives,
Letting the magma beneath rumble to the surface;
Like something mysteriously gender-specific;
Like the weather.
The one credit of nearly drowning every day
Is that you appreciate what moments of life surround death;
You holding my hand
You trying to absorb the pain
You daring to change my direction
You encouraging, reassuring, giving me courage to fight
You attempting, daily, to save me.
You never running away to save yourself.
The English language needs a stronger sentiment than
"Thank you."
Monday, January 3, 2011
Whispers in the Moonlight
Opals spill from Heaven in wavery lines
The reflection of the Sun reflects on your cheeks
Sparkles of silver, blue, green, and possibly purple underline
The dimples you declare don't exist
The soft lines declaring your sense of humor
The sweet lips that curve in warm greeting
And I melt
If this was an oceanside beach I'd hear the tumbling of white-foam waves
Opals scattered among broken shells and starfish searching for their mates
If this was a forest I'd hear treefrogs singing sweet soprano notes
As they declare the warm night perfect for yet another sonata
If this was a balcony on a tall city skyscraper I'd hear the calls of so many
Cars as they say hello, goodbye, and I hope to never see you again.
But this is just a simple lake, a simple country, a simple September date
A simple girl, a simple guy, and a simple thought in each head
So as your hair shines a deep ruby in the moonlight
And your face glows in the coolness of a sweet summer night
I will remember this night I began to fall in love with you
And melt.
The reflection of the Sun reflects on your cheeks
Sparkles of silver, blue, green, and possibly purple underline
The dimples you declare don't exist
The soft lines declaring your sense of humor
The sweet lips that curve in warm greeting
And I melt
If this was an oceanside beach I'd hear the tumbling of white-foam waves
Opals scattered among broken shells and starfish searching for their mates
If this was a forest I'd hear treefrogs singing sweet soprano notes
As they declare the warm night perfect for yet another sonata
If this was a balcony on a tall city skyscraper I'd hear the calls of so many
Cars as they say hello, goodbye, and I hope to never see you again.
But this is just a simple lake, a simple country, a simple September date
A simple girl, a simple guy, and a simple thought in each head
So as your hair shines a deep ruby in the moonlight
And your face glows in the coolness of a sweet summer night
I will remember this night I began to fall in love with you
And melt.
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