icy fog

is what the weatherman calls the freezing dampness outside my window. spring fights with winter, or so it seems to me, winning on the warm, sunny mornings and blue sky'd afternoons. today winter still holds its grip by hiding the coming season from my senses. evidence of spring's presence surrounds...grass greening through the brown and snow melting after the shortest of visits. however, the gray chill captures my mind, and enforces the belief that the white witch still clutches us tightly in her grip. contrary to what may be visible...my heart knows that the kingdom of heaven has arrived and is making its way in us like yeast through the dough; it knows this as fiercely as it knows of july's inescapable heat amidst a bitter january blizzard. too many days this reality stays hidden when my heart forgets and instead believes in the story mere sight can tell of the permanence of the icy fog.



"He told them still another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into a large amount of flour until it worked all through the dough." Jesus spoke all these things to the crowd in parables; he did not say anything to them without using a parable. So was fulfilled what was spoken through the prophet: "I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter things hidden since the creation of the world." - matthew 13:33-34

What We Need Is Here

by Wendell Berry

Geese appear high over us,

pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,

as in love or sleep, holds them to their way, clear

in the ancient faith: what we need is here.

And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be

quiet in heart, and in eye,

clear. What we need is here.

atsui kohii kudasai

the wet snowy weather seemed to penetrate to my bones yesterday, and i found myself reminiscing about the "hot & cold" drink machines in japan. as scott and i watched our friend tait practice ice hockey in the cool stadium, i wanted nothing more than a warm can of 'cafe au lait' or green tea to hold between my palms.

so imagine my delight this morning when, thanks to a D-20 snow day, i had a little time to peruse flickr and discovered this photo (link below)! i wish i'd taken one myself; perhaps i did, but who knows where that negative is right now! look closely- the little red words say "atsui" which means hot, and the little blue words say "tsumetai" which means cool. just insert 130 yen in coins, and out comes the hot or cold drink of your choice. and these little machines, lit up by flourescence, serve as beacons of hope on the dark and lonely country roads in rural japan. sweet convenience! admittedly, the coffee really fails to live up to anything close to good coffee, but in your moment of need, your palate might just welcome a canned japanese version of 'cafe au lait'.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sirintira/2329641005/

to suffer with

a caveat:

i wrote this post after church, but then read kira's blog and felt mine an insignificant imitation. however, after thinking on it today, i decided to post it anyway.

today at church we stood outside with palm branches in hand, singing hosanna, and i hated it. to identify with the crowd mentality, the crowds who followed Jesus in his popularity and a mere week later joined with the jeering crowd saying "crucify him", made me cringe. i hate it, yet find it necessary to admit that this is me. too often i praise God when His gifts seem abundant, but when my person is at risk, i too have fled and failed to give voice to this man who has brought healing to me and to many i know.

in the sermon, seth illuminated the word "passion" for me, for us. even with mel gibson's movie titled "the passion of the Christ", and the week before easter often referred to as "passion week"...i still never really grasped it. but today "passion" has come alive for me. this kind of passion that means suffering. and from this suffering he comes to me.

compassion = to suffer with.

a man of many sorrows, acquainted with our grief: Jesus.
he suffers with us.

recess

today i wished that i had emulated dorothea lange, and worn my camera like an appendage. but my canon rebel without digital capabilities remains more of a purse, often worn over my shoulder, but chosen only for certain occasions. thus i have no image caught on film of a pristine moment at recess this afternoon. i spontaneously offered my sixth graders 15 minutes of extra outdoor bliss today. so why am i surprised to find myself the recipient of this gift.

as i walked around 16 kids at play, my eyes framed 3 of my students standing a top a hill, playing a carefree game of "kick the ball down the hill" to their friends waiting below. without a playground, or even the luxury of grass, improvisation becomes the game for many of our students. our playground is the fire line at the enormous high school campus that has genuinely welcomed our orphaned school this year after our mold crisis.

instead of swings, slides, and a grass field, you might see four-square drawn with a rock on the pavement, "touch" football on asphalt, or a modern game of "push each other off the rock" to see who can stand the longest. after a snow, there was "take a running start and launch yourself over the hill" to see who could land the furthest.

now the girls have devised a game of a few above and others below simply kicking the ball in both directions- of course the challenge being that those below can kick it high and far enough to reach the outstreched arms above.

no image exists in print or digital format of that glorious afternoon sky filled with silver-lined cotton clouds serving as a backdrop for three 12 year old girls silhoutted against it. and no close-up shot cemented the moment after the whistle blwe when one of these girls, blue eyed with freckles, and cheeks rosy from exercise in the cool fresh air, expressed her pure delight in the simply joy of kicking a ball so that it sails across the sky and down the hill.

recess. perhaps we should all go outside and play together for 15 minutes everyday.

examining desire

"What are you looking for?" she was asked.

"I don't know." she said.

"That's your problem - you don't know.

And so your unexamined desires rule you."

Tonight as I read back a few pages through my journal, I came across these words I had quoted from Dare to Desire, a condensed version of Journey of Desire. Three months later, they still ring true. A year ago, I identified with the girl who didn't know. In fact, that phrase often escaped my lips, and still does, though less frequently I hope. Often it followed thoughts or a voiced opinion as if to apologize for possibly knowing or having the audacity to think I might know. It was a dismissal. Last month Scott and I watched and cried through August Rush, but after the movie tears continued to stream, and I recognized in myself the immense desire to KNOW. Such knowing carried the main characters through much difficulty and even persecution; listening and true knowing of their desire and faith led them to their miracle.

Similarly, a blind man named Bartimaeus was sitting by the road begging in Jericho. Jesus and his disciples, surrounded by a large crowd, were leaving the city.

When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" Jesus stopped and said, "Call him." So they called to the blind man, "Cheer up! On your feet! He's calling you." Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.

"What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asked him.

The blind man said,

"Rabbi, I want to see."

"Go," said Jesus, "your faith has healed you." Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road. (Mark 10)

"Lord, make me a channel of your peace. Where there is hatred, may I bring love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Oh, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; not so much to be understood as to understand; not to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life."
-Mother Teresa

tonight in watching the story of mother teresa's life, admittedly a bit idealized, her love, her perseverance to her calling, and her faith shone brightly. surmounting numerous obstacles to her work with children and the dying, "hard-pressed" from various sides, she never gave up.

"Keep the joy of loving God in your heart and share this joy with all you meet especially your family. Be holy – let us pray."

what a new take on letting the joy of the LORD be my strength. he sustained her, the nuns under the Sisters of Charity, and projects around the globe for decades. such faith and simplicity humble me. LORD, allow your joy to truly be my strength. i want to look for you in the face of every person i encounter.

to see

a window at shove chapel.

a place my eyes would

often alight during worship.

strength and grace, a portal

of light. solid stone arches,

and delicately stained glass

an unlikely pair perhaps.

let my life be filled

with such portals. may

the One who is Light dwell

in me so that i can see.

dependency

i didn't go to work today. i have a cold which is "not that bad", or so i keep repeating to myself and those nearby. however, its bad enough that i'm dependent upon a tissue box. scott called to see if i needed anything, and of all the things in the world i could have requested...another box of tissues was the only thing desired. if the distance of a room separates me from this new best friend of mine, my eye starts to tear and before i can run across the room, my nose has proceeded to drip to my chin! so now the box goes with me from room to room, and i feel a sense of comfort looking at the full white box sitting to my right. a clean white piece of paper made to feel soft as cloth sits poised, dependable and ready to meet my need. kira and i have oft admired the benefits of cloth napkins and the beauty of a dainty handkerchief over a disposable napkin or tissue. however, as ideal as a handkerchief appears for catching tears, i prefer my nasal drops to fall into this 2 layered square which i neither keep nor wash but simply dispose of and forget. truly a fair-weather friend am i in this highly conditional relationship, but since the weather has me under i feel quite attached and fond of the ever faithful kleenex.

new sketches

two years later and ever the optimist, i'm beginning again. a single blog entry in 2006 just before leaving japan remained alone until today. the words of friends motivated me to enter this world of blogging. so thanks to you, here i am again in 2008. like a new year, or new day perhaps, turning a page in the age calendar renewed that feeling that the slate awaits. and what does it await? erasing and new sketches. perhaps this metaphor seems obvious to me because i employ it daily. my students often clamor, "can i erase the board?" and then, "can i write (insert subject of your choice) on the board?" so everyday there is an abudance of erasing and new sketches, and every friday i delight in cleaning it so that the white looks new, and pens of all colors line the tray....the whiteboard is now fresh for the marking.

sakura

Cherry blossoms in full bloom covered the castle walls by the sea. A pink so pale, almost white, covered the ancient branches. Near the water's edge friends gathered, celebrating new life older than spring. Admiring the radiant faces of two women dressed in yukata speaking words of being found by Love, faces radiant and wet with tears, the flowers paled in comparison. Wanting to follow the Man who walked in compassion and on the water, each woman waded into the waves, and received the washing. Dying to the old ways of winter, and rising in newness of life, they chose spring. Salt water may only clean the skin, but forgiveness cleans the soul. baptism trees white with blossoms winter to spring, new life blooms sea and tears washing.