Worship Songs

Why are we so set on meeting up with God in the Heavens when He's gone to so much trouble to be here on earth?

Palavras

I like words. Words are important to me.  I think about them.  I turn them over in my mind and poke at them from different angles. 
I'm not good at cultural cliches.  I don't understand a lot of them. I missuse them.  Matt says it's because I am unamerican.  True. 
I am not anti-american.  But UN.  Yes, that's fair. 
I have a Brazilian flag I want to hang off my back porch, but I haven't figured out if that is legal or not.
I'm not Brazilian either.  I'm more like a cocktail. The intellectuals call me a third culture kid. Not one or the other--but a mixture. 
It means I use my words differently than most people.
It means I don't always understand what people mean when they use their words. 
It means my vocabulary is HUGE, but only half the people I know at any given time can understand it. 
Some of my favorite words my children are just beginning to understand. 
The approved word around here for the gluteous maximus is "bunda". (u like chew)  Love that word. 
Somedays I need a little kick in the bunda.  Sounds much less offensive doesn't it?
The kids can make a huge bagunca. (a is baa like a lamb, un like moon, c with an s sound.)  That can be a mess or a riot, depending on the context.
I much prefer to wash with sabonete than soap.
I don't use my words lightly.  Though it can be argued that I use a lot of them. 
I generally mean what I say, though I often don't explain.
I expect other people to mean what they say too.
That can get complicated.
Then I might have to ask the question, how do you mean what you say? What are you trying to communicate?  How do you want me to feel about your words?
What does what you say to me tell me about you?
What does it say about me?
What do you mean by what you don't say?  By the words you don't use.
I think about that too.

Sometimes it gets a little fuzzy, a little scary, a little confusing.
Then I just keep my words to myself for a bit.
Protect them, guard them, give them sanctuary. 
Because if you know my words, you might know me. 
And I'm not sure if I trust you yet.
But I want to, I really want to.

Couldn't have said it any better...

What do you say to the friend who offers the perfect soliloquy? 
To the one who hears the whisper so low only the Spirit who connects us could possibly bring it to his ear?
If I could, I would tell him that once I looked for my stars in the sky, but I've chosen now to find them in the sea.  They are wiser stars...they'll wear their years as an adornment.
I would tell him that I chose the sea over the sky, but truly the sea had been before me all the while.  I just couldn't see it for the mist. But as I made the turn I saw the path backlit all the way from the beginning.
It begets wonder.
Guardian.
Worthy.  A word I haven't been able to use before.  There is no revenge.  Only maybe, finally, home.   

Cornelia

I remember asking her once, how she could stand being pregnant for 10 years.
She laughed as if it had never occurred to her that it might be strange. Then she said, with the utmost sincerity, "Well, after a while I didn't really notice."
It's a wonder the things you can get used to.

train wreck

She rides a long line of leavings

Cutting the remains of cords still cleaving

Quick, shallow breathings

Then a shock, a deep heaving

Panic takes her air

Purple and Green

My colors.  By that I do not mean they are my favorite colors, but that when I look at them I see me.  It's an oddity I know, to see people's colors.  But it is one oddity I don't mind.
And I guess that's what I felt today when I got the scarf...that she didn't mind either.  It sort of meant the world.

The Passing...

I am currently experiencing the dull mindedness that comes with percocet, supermotrin, and some other fun thing they put in my IV.  So you probably shouldn't expect anything eloquent tonight.
I have collected a few memories from today, along with socks with treading and a new yellow bracelet. 
1) I do not get an award today for suffering in silence.
2) Sarah's brave little assurance that she would take care of Mommy while Em went to fetch Heather will go down in Mommy Memory Land forever.  "You go, Emily, I'll take care of Mommy."  Then she came in and rubbed my head and I tried to groan quietly so as not to frighten her.
3) Ron, the EMT in the ambulance was feeling so bad that he couldn't do anything for my pain.  He kept making suggestions that were completely unhelpful, but he was so sweet I appreciated the effort. He kept saying how sorry he was he couldn't give me anything. I almost stopped complaining (OK, it was more like screaming) to try to comfort him. Then when the pain subsided and I laid there exhausted he kept asking me annoying questions.  I'm sure he was trying to make sure I hadn't passed out, but seriously, I can't remember numbers when I'm clear headed.  I kept holding up my fingers to answer his questions so he knew I was listening, but I was not about to make the effort to speak.  I did thank him, but I'm not sure he heard.  Maybe I'll take him some flowers.
4) Sam, the ER CCNP, told me my urine was unimpressive.  Hmmmm....What does impressive urine look like?
Then he told me I was the proud parent of a kidney stone.
Lovely.
And there is another one, even larger, in my kidney that I'm saving for a rainy day.
5) ER doctors do not have the whole bedside manner thing going for them. They should make them watch McDreamy as part of continuing education.