finally got my hiking in . . .

here's where my bro and i went today:
red rocks park and amphitheater
(www.redrocksonline.com)

a-MAZ-ing.

talk about standing in awe of God's creation. massive red rocks that have been uprooted, turned on their sides and stuck back down into the ground. huge boulders balancing on rocks as if you could push them off with one finger.

brandon and i hiked thru these rock formations. 6, 450 feet above sea-level (we were feeling it).

and here's the funny part (if you call this funny.) we deviated from the trail at one point and climbed up on the rocks to get some pictures. no big deal, right? we had some fun climbing, got some good pics, tested our endurance skills.

so then we get back on the trail. and we pass a sign. but first we read the sign. here's what it said:

Climbing on rocks prohibited.
Violators will be fined $999.00
or serve up to 180 days in jail.

AAAHHHHH! we looked at each other. then we both immediately looked all around us. as if we expected cops to jump out of the bushes with handcuffs and drag us to their cars.

luckily that didn't happen. and we had a lovely rest of the day in the park.

p.s. the amphitheater is carved into the rocks - i can imagine seeing a show there would be outstanding. great music under the stars in the middle of this beautiful park. blues travelers were there for the 4th. counting crows and goo goo dolls were there on the 5th. if i'd had an extra $50 to blow, i would have gone. maybe next time.

and see all those stairs? we learned today that during the a.m. and afternoon, the amphitheater seems to turn into a free gym of sorts for people. there were dozens of people there today running stairs (there are hundreds of them leading up to the amphitheater), running the rows where people sit. i got tired just walking the stairs. but of course now i want to go back tomorrow a.m. and do my run there. maybe i'll even attempt the stairs.

work out arena by day, concert hall by night.

hey, i'd choose that setting over a treadmill at the gym ANY DAY.

everytime a family moves, a forest dies.

i wish you could see the piles and piles and PILES of packing paper that have accumulated in our house, garage, truck bed, etc. as a result of this move. it is seriously ridiculous.

this is what i dont get.

i will unpack a box: take an item out, unwrap it, throw the paper on the floor and do this over and over again until the box is empty. but then once i've unwrapped everything, i start to stuff the packing paper back in the box. that's the logical thing to do, right? rather than leave it all over the floor. and you assume that since all the paper was in the box to begin with (along with all the stuff you unwrapped) that the paper will fit back in the box with plenty of room left over.

oh no. you would be wrong. sometimes it doesn't fit. and if it does fit, it barely does and you have to squish the paper down as far as you can using all your arm muscles to get it in there.

what is wrong with this picture.

faith, maybe you can help me out with this one. i think it's a science thing. something about wasted space prolly.

so yeah, my hat's off to the poor trees that sacrificed their lives so that our family could move to colorado with all our goods in tact.

poor trees.

what we need in salisbury:

Jamba Juice

yummy fruit smoothie bar.

i may be getting addicted.

quick update for everyone.

we are moved in. the moving truck left yesterday around 6p.m. after a long day of getting things into the house. we are far from settled, but are making some progress. at least the beds are up and some of the rooms are starting to come together. i unpacked box after box after box yesterday and still it seems there are hundreds left. i just keep telling myself, "sarah, it's a process."

went running this a.m. - much more difficult at 5,000 ft. i hadn't noticed the altitude at all until my run the a.m. gives my lungs a work-out more than my legs. makes me wonder what it will be like at 14,000 feet when we go up to mt. evans or pikes peak later this week. yikes!

ok, i'm off to target. we all had to take baths today because we had no shower curtains. so i will be buying some. and maps. i hate not knowing my way around. i've got too much independence running thru my blood, i think. i want to be able to jump in the car and go explore . . . but my dad's the only one who knows his way around. so shower curtains and maps. and maybe a few other things.

off to target.

p.s. updates may be fewer now. we have no internet yet. i'm at b&n now using their connection for a small fee.

funny sight of the day:

oreo cows.

at least, that's what my mother called them

when we passed them on the road.

daddy says they are really called belted galloways.

he may be right, but i like 'oreo cows' better.

we have arrived.

CURRENTLY (and for the next week):

13197 W. 27th Lane

Golden, CO 80401

west of denver.
north of colorado springs.
south of boulder.
nestled right at the base of the mountains.

beautiful.

here's the house:

i guess this means we are now officially the

mile-high meadows.

let's play a game.

who can guess all of the states i've been in since last wednesday?

perhaps there will be a prize for the person who can guess them all.

here's the thing though. we must institute the honor code for this game. so we know that everyone is playing fair. so . . .

please raise your right hand and repeat after me:

"i, (insert your name), do promise that my guess will be MY OWN GUESS. i will not accept help of any form including, but not limited to, looking at a map, asking someone else, re-reading sarah's previous blogs, etc. i will make my own educated guess based solely on my expert knowledge of united states geography."

ok, good. now that that's over. let the games begin.

"did you hear that potato wagon rolling in?"
thoughts on: the midwest. my daddy. storms.

i had forgotten what driving across the midwest is like. in the midwest, the land is flat. the trees are scarce. so the road stretches out in front of you for miles. it seems as though it will never end. i asked my dad today, "on a clear day, how far can you see?" "50 miles or so," was the reply. he should know. he grew up in the panhandle of texas where the land is flatter and the trees even more scarce (if that is possible) than the kansas road i travelled today.

where the land stops, the sky- a beautiful blue- begins and ascends forever until it's on top of you and behind you and all around you. the sky really is tremendous out here.

the towns along I-70 are tiny, for the most part. little farming towns like the one where my dad grew up. as he put it today, "the high-rise building in most of these little towns is the grain elevator." as if i know what a grain elevator is. but i know what one looks like now. :-)

i drove all day today. it was long. it was extremely uneventful. my passengers slept most of the day (including the cat). so i felt alone most of the day. not a sad alone. just alone. gave me time to take it all in. most of it was rather dull. until evening.

i wish i could adequately describe what i saw tonight. it may seem rather mundane to some of you, but i thought it was amazing. it was rain. storms. in the distance.

in these flatlands you can see the storms form in the distance. you know how in alien movies when they "beam down" from their spaceship - there's this light ray that shoots down from the ship. that's what it's like when you look out and see the storms. gray-blue "beams" of storms interspersed between carolina blue patches of non-rain. lots of them. all across the horizon. kinda looks like thick vertical sripes across the sky.

we drove right into the storms. the stipes got wider and darker as we got closer. it rained. it thundered. it lighteninged. and then it stopped 10 minutes later.

such are storms in the midwest.

as i said above, i know i did not adequately describe what i got to see tonight. i hesitated to even try. but i wanted you to see it. i wanted you to be there.

to see this huge expanse of a sky and be reminded that the heavens tell of the glory of God. to see the fields and remember that you, a small creature on this earth, are like grass that withers and falls. to see the road stretching out in front of you and recall that even as a small creature, there is purpose - a path of life. a to see the rains pouring down in strips in front of you and discover agian that the same God that controls the lightening, the rain, the storms has adopted you according to the purpose of His will and is equipped as your Father to direct your heart to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ.

such were the thoughts i was flooded with. i wanted you to share them.

i wanted you to be there.

IT'S UNANIMOUS

the meadows family agrees 100% (and that is a rare occurrence) that today for lunch we had THE BEST PORK BBQ EVER!

restaurant: the original Arthur Bryant's BBQ
city: kansas city, mo
a little history: started in the 1930s
famous visitors: Harry Truman, Jimmy Carter, Steven Spielberg, Michael Landon, Robert Redford, Jack Nicholson, Wilt Chamberlain, Bryant Gumbel

. . . and now the Meadows Family.

the funniest thing about this experience was the bread. you would expect the best bbq sandwich in the world to be on some really great kaiser roll or homemade bread or something.

oh no.

try plain ole' white sandwich bread.

prolly wonder bread, if i had to guess. funny, huh?

progress today:
another 498 miles.
not quite as far as yesterday, but still a valiant effort.

CURRENTLY:
colby, ks
(only 50 miles from the colorado state line!!!)

comment for today:
kansas is a really long state.

browns, grays and greens

there is green-ness everywhere these days. all along our drive it's been green. green fields. green trees. green road signs even.

(we'll stick with thinking about the green LIVING things for the sake of this entry.)

green is a sign of life. richness. health.
maybe that's part of why people spend so much money to have gardens and houseplants and trees in their yards and nice grass.
maybe it helps us to feel alive.

---------------------------------
there's a stretch of I-81 that i used to drive from harrisonburg to winchester when i was in graduate school. it was winter when i travelled that road daily to the hospital for my internship. as i was driving home one day, i was particularly aware of how dull things looked. browns and grays. not many signs of life anywhere.

and i got to thinking about the trees that day. about how they all looked dead with no leaves, bare branches. but really, that's all that it was: they just LOOKED dead. they weren't really dead, just bare. trees don't die in the winter, they just lose their green-ness.

and i thought about my life. my walk with the Lord. this journey of learning to love. how there are times that i look (and feel) like those trees in the winter. i look (and feel) dead.

but the reality is that i'm not.

i may be stripped bare. i may be exposed to cold and wind. all of my green may be gone. but i am not dead.

--------------------------------
the reality is that, in Christ, we are alive. and once we are made alive by His grace, we are kept in that state for eternity. we struggle thru times of exposure to the elements of life that leave us looking (and often feeling) like the trees in winter. but we must know the reality: we are still alive. as much as we may not feel it or see it or look like it.

and the amazing thing is that the Lord can take us in those times of brokenness and restore us. He can bring back our green-ness. and He delights to do it.

--------------------------------
the greens of the past few days have reminded me of all of this. that we have a God that makes us new. alive. and then He goes the distance and sustains that life.

and from the browns and grays, He brings forth greens.

green is a sign of life. richness. health.

"sustain me according to your promise, and I will live . . ." --psalm 119

favorites so far . . .

a few superlatives for the trip up to this point. gives you a few more details from the adventure. maybe more than you really want to know.

best . . .
stretch of driving: the mountains of west virginia.
stop: cracker barrel in ky (we met my aunt, uncle, cousin and her kids for lunch - hadn't seen them in years.)
rest stop: one somewhere in illinois (near the mo border.) props for clean bathrooms and pretty flowers.
vehicle to drive: dad's truck. thought i would hate it because it's so big. turns out its the most comfortable thing to ride in AND easy to drive.
"sight" to see: the arch in st. louis - situated right on the river. cool skyline, especially in late afternoon - bet it's even better at dusk.
$1.50 spent: a sonic cherry-limeade. one word: YUM!
snack: a tie between my MSD medicine and powerbar granola bars
hotel: holiday inn express (great shower heads, no ugly floral motif, frig and micro in each room)

more to come. we have made it 941 miles so far. another 739 to go. not bad for 1 1/2 days of driving. huge praise for the blessing of safety thus far. continue to keep us in your prayers.

p.s. it's times like this that i wish i would join the 21st century and go digital (camera-wise, that is). i have taken some great shots (yes, anna, i've gotten every state sign except indiana - it snuck up on me) but you'll just have to wait til i get home to see them. keep you in suspense! :-)

his name is phil.

my pastor from college rocks.

i mean, really. he packs a punch. every message. every week. so much so that i still listen to his messages even though i'm at a church in maryland and he's moved to a church way down in florida.

today (while driving across the great state of . . . illinois, i think) i listened to a solid message on phillipians 3:9.
check it out on www.pinewoodpca.org
the message from march 19th.

do yourself a favor and listen. be encouraged.

But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ. More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith, that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.
phillipians 3

drove 574 miles today.

thru 4 states.

(can you guess which ones?)

yeah. that's what i'm talkin about.

rock on meadows family.

CURRENTLY:
columbia, mo (right in the middle of the state)

here's our route across the states:

CURRENTLY:

right across the west virginia/kentucky line,

between huntington, wv and grayson, ky.

partial lyrics from a song i was listening to on the drive tonight.

really hit home with me.

any control I thought I had just slips right through my hands

while my ever-present conscience shakes its head and reprimands me

reprimands me

then and thereI confess

I'll blame all this on my selfishness

yet you love me

and that consumes me

and I'll stand up again

and do so willingly

You give me hope, and hope it gives me life

you touch my heavy heart, and when you do you make it light

as I exhale I hear your voice

and I answer you, though I heardly make a noise

and from my lips the words I choose to say

seem pathetic, but it's fallen man's praise

because I love you

oh God, I love you

and life is now worth living

if only because of you

when i go down, relient k

all of my family's belongings fit into a 53-foot long space.

i know this because at midnight last night i watched a moving van of that size pull away from our house in virginia. with all of our stuff.

---------------------------
mom and i sat on the porch and watched them finish packing the van. she held my hand, still comforting me from the mini-breakdown that i had after walking thru and feeling (not just seeing) the emptiness of each room. it's interesting how even without furniture there i could still picture the rooms just as they should be. last night was the first set of tears.

----------------------------
this morning i woke up in our empty living room floor. mom, dad and i spent the night there last night instead of getting a hotel room. it certainly wasn't the best night's sleep i've gotten, but i wouldn't have wanted it any other way. it was the last night i had to be in that house.

----------------------------
in some ways today has seemed somewhat normal. dad was awake first and busy doing things when mom and i got up. we sat around the breakfast table with carla and marisa (our neighbors of 13 years) talking about typical life stuff and listening to marisa play her recital peice on the piano. i sat out on the back deck for awhile with the cat. i swept the floor.

but doing a few "normal" things doesn't make the day itself normal. such was the case today.

----------------------------
i am currently sitting in a hotel right across the kentucky state line. my family (including the cat) has spent all day packing up the last remains of our home in virginia and setting out for the west . . . golden, colorado to be exact.

i have decided i will use this lovely little internet creation that we call a blog to keep everyone updated on the events of our trip. as those of you know who read my blog, i rarely post daily events, but rather ideas, musings, mad squirrel disease thoughts. the next week and a half will be a mixture of the two. take it for what you will.

i leave you tonight with a verse that i thought of as we were driving thru the beautiful mountains of virginia and west virginia today:

You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands.
isaiah 55
(read the whole chapter for even greater encouragement)

from the pulpit.

"a loss of silence is as serious as a loss of memory . . .
and just as disorienting."

--john render, quoting someone else

(sorry, i didn't catch the reference)

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"be still"

surrender

drop your hands to your side

cease striving

"and know that i am God."

psalm 46:10

more on light . . .

i want you to get a mental picture. or even maybe do this. that's right, try it out.

turn off all the lights in your bedroom, walk out of it and close the door behind you. turn on a light in whatever hallway you are in. ok, you're set. you are standing in the lighted hallway. now, open the door to your room.

yeah, so that's the whole game. but what i want you to watch as you do it is the light. not the actual lightbulb, but the light itself. how it moves. what happens with the light when you open your bedroom door?

God used this very basic "natural order of things" picture to teach me something about himself (and consequently, about myself) a couple of years ago. it was as simple as me walking into a room and thinking, "interesting . . . the light always spills over into the darkness. the dark room always gets lighter, not vice versa."

have you ever thought about that? if nature were different, darkness could spill over into light. but it doesn't. the light is stronger than the dark. more potent, if you will. the light always beats out the dark. always.

that should give us an amazing strength of spirit in considering the following truth:

"you are the light of the world."

when light is introduced, darkness disappears.

there is power in light. there is power in the Light.

darkness is cold.

i was thinking tonight about the verses in Scripture that talk to us about being lights. about how we are to shine in the darkness.

and i guess when i read that, i always think about the light part. how it shine like stars. how it engulfs the darkness. how it provides the ability to see things clearly. how it offers warmth.

but then there's the darkness. the thing that surrounds the light. the thing that makes a need for the light. it's around us all the time.

i know this about darkness.
but tonight i felt the darkness. and it was cold. and heavy.

there is a weight to the darkness of this world. to the Lord, i suppose that weightiness is ever present. it is a constant stabbing in his heart. but for me, i don't always feel it's bite. i suppose because i live surrounded by it so much that after awhile it just seems "normal". like i get so used to being in it that it no longer seems like it's in such opposition to me.

but it is.

and tonight i felt the difference between light and darkness. the war that they fight. the stark difference in how they move. how they feel.

sometimes the darkness around me is so heavy that it makes my light feel like nothing more than a flicker.

but at least there is a flicker. all glory to Him.

"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light." --1 peter 2:9

reflections from am

i read the following this weekend. it's quoted in a book called story by steven james; the original source is soren kierkegaard's provocations:

"The difference between an admirer and a follower still remains, no matter where you are. The admirer never makes any true sacrifices. He always plays it safe. Though in words, phrases, songs, he is inexhaustible about how highly he prizes Christ, he renounces nothing, gives up nothing, will not reconstruct his life, will not be what he admires, and will not let his life express what it is he supposedly admires."

what powerful words. i wanted to write something about this . . . about how it convicts my soul. but then i remembered an email that my friend annmarie ("am") sent me regarding this same quote (she read the book a month ago). her words are honest and right on. and are much of what i felt when i sat and thought about this. so instead of me, you get to hear from her today:

"Wow...will i allow my heart to be convicted by such frank words. I sit here and think of all the talking i do about this life i want to live, these sacrifices i want to make, the places i want to be, the Christ i want to share with the world...yet here i stand in the same boat, holding the same net, contemplating what i should do next...throw the net again and try to keep this same old life working the best i can, or jump out of the boat, swim my way to shore and take hold of the hand that promises to lead me to a life of more blessing than i can imagine! Seems like it would be such an easy decision to make, yet I feel like so many times I have have heard the words of the Lord saying “Follow me” and as I have hesitated to reply he keeps moving on to invite some others.

I have been reading this verse in 1John 3:18-20 “Let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we set our hearts at rest in his presence, whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.” He knows my struggles, he knows of my hesitation related to my fears, my pride, my self absorption, he knows that I condemn myself as a result of those things… yet he says there is only one thing that is going to lay all of that to rest and bring me into his merciful presence and that is to drop our nets and pick up our cross to follow him. “In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.” Luke 14:33 . . .

Steven James envisions Jesus asking the question, “So what do you say? Will you follow me, or just keep admiring me?” But I truly don’t think that we can even begin to admire this sweet Savior unless we can look into his precious face…and yet if we don’t walk with him at his invitation, all we will see as we stay there in the boat will be the back of his head as he turns and walks away! Let us not admire from afar, but let us get close enough to touch and marvel at the face of Christ…he will be there in all that we do in the power of his name!"

--april 12, 2006

admirer or follower . . . which will i be? which will you be?

for marie

"are you ready for heaven?" i asked softly.

(it was an awkward question . . . or maybe just an awkward moment . . . looking at someone who is near death and talking with them about what will likely soon be.)

she slowly, but deliberatley, nodded yes.

(it was the first answer to a question that i had gotten all morning.)

i smiled. and happy tears welled up in my eyes. i don't think that she noticed. i don't think any actually spilled out onto my cheek . . . they just sat there in my eyes, blurring my vision of this beautiful woman that lay before me.

i sat there a bit longer, at times talking with her, at times talking to her, at times just looking at her, moistening her lips with vasoline, wetting her mouth that was so dry from lack of fluids, stroking her hair, holding her hand.

-------------------------------------

i sat down by the lake for a long while, reading Scripture and contemplating the fate of my friend. the air was crisp from the breeze that came now and then, but the sun made it warm enough that you knew it was springtime. all the flowers were out, the dogwoods white with bloom. there were geese near the water's edge and every once in awhile i'd here the scurry of a squirrel in the grass behind me. i sat there for a long time. in the middle of spring happening all around me. in the midst of life. in the midst of new life.

-------------------------------------

there was a long set of windows in her room. everyday when i would visit, i walked over to the windows and looked out into a lovely little courtyard . . . and past the courtyard to the lake on which the hospital is situated. the lake where i sat a few days earlier. it struck me one day how that wall of windows seemed to be a very distinctive divider between that room of death and a world of life.

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i have spent a good deal of time thinking, contemplating, questioning, reading . . . for many days i had a deep uneasiness, and a great sadness about my friend. i cried sad tears over the impending loss of her. but then one day it hit me . . .

i was focusing too much on the external. was it ok to be grieving her loss? absolutely. but what does Jesus tell us he looks at? what does he tell us matters? not the external, but the internal. not the body, but the soul.

i was looking at my sweet friend's body deteriorate, day by day, little by little. i was watching her eyes get dimmer, her breathing get heavier, her responsiveness grow less. but all of that was simply her body. what was going on with her soul?

i don't claim to know what happens to a person's soul as they are dying . . . at least in the days that lead up to death. but i know the end result for my friend. and i'd like to think that in those final days her soul was inching closer and closer to the gates. closer and closer to Him. that while her responsiveness to this world was growing less and less, her soul's responsiveness to heaven was growing greater and greater . . . that she was continually feeling more peace, more warmth, more excitement, more rest about where she was going.

i was seeing the death; but at the same time she was drawing nearer to Life.

------------------------------------

today was her day of arrival. today was the day of homecoming. she had told me a week ago that she was ready. and today she got to go.

"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!"

from my reading today:

For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.

For the whole law is fulfilled in one word:

"You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

galatians 5:13-14

an addition to 'whys and hows' . . .

i was thinking more about the why and how questions. and i came up with another question:

why do we question things so much?

and then it hit me. a long time ago, way back in the beginning, i suppose humans (adam and eve, really) didn't question things. things simply were. the relationship that they had with the Creator was such that there was no reason for them to question anything for everything that they needed was provided . . . they had NO NEED - physically or spiritually. their perfect relationship with God and the perfect world in which they lived left nothing to be questioned. i suppose the questions only came when sin came. when the relationship was wrecked, when the balance was disrupted.

in a way, sin, at least for a lot of the big "adult" why questions, is both the cause for them and the answer to them:

why does sickness and death strike people that we love so strongly and suddenly?
why do we humans hurt each other so much?
why is it that God seems so far off sometimes?

does this make any sense?

it seems to me that
the reason that we question is because we were created to understand.

does this seem way off? i'm really just thinking out loud on this one . . .

whys and hows

it's the "why" questions that are the hardest.

i must have learned this at an early age. we all do, i suppose. seems that all kids go thru that phase where they ask a question, they get an answer and then the immediate next thought is "but why?" and then the answer to that question is followed with, "but why?" and so forth and so on until the answerer is exhausted and out of answers.

why do lightning bugs light up?
why can't i hit my brother if he hits me first?
why do i have to go to school?
why was that girl mean to me?

seems our hearts, even when we are little, long to know the "why" of things.

only when we get older, or why questions become a little deeper . . . a little more involved . . .

why does sickness and death strike people that we love so strongly and suddenly?
why do we humans hurt each other so much?
why is it that God seems so far off sometimes?
why am i the way i am?
why is it that people have such a hard time agreeing on things?

and somehow, even if the more involved "why" questions are answered, often times they only lead into the more complicated "how" questions . . .

how are we to deal with grief and pain?
how do we find peace and forgiveness and love for people that have hurt us?
how do we have a relationship with God?
how do we become the people we were intended to be?
how do we know which "truths" and really the Truth?

in these questioning moments (which life is overwhelmingly full of) it seems my belief in God - in Yawheh, the only true God - is clutch.

because as much as i search the history books or the 6 o' clock news or the internet, the answers are not there. not even science or common sense or philsophers or my parents can give me all the answers to all the "why" questions. and none of those give me effective answers to the "how" questions either.

but then i search the Scriptures. and i see Him. God shows up and speaks of our condition as humans, of my particular struggles and of Himself. and He gives answers. not always the answers that i thought i wanted, or to the fullness i wanted, or in a way that i completely understand, but answers nonetheless. sometimes the answer can simply be, "I have brought this about. and it is good. because I am Good. so trust it. trust Me."

and if i don't always get it . . . if i don't always like the answer, i am forced to remember that i am not God. and that i'm not always going to get it. His understanding if so far superior to mine that it is astounding. and He may not ever tell me the answer fully or so that i can grasp the reasoning.

but i read - and so believe - that He is Creator, Life-Giver, Sustainer. that He is Love and Truth and Justice. and i look further into the story to see all of that lived out in a man named Jesus. and i get trust-evoking answers to the why questions. and effective, life-changing answers to the how questions.

He is enough to handle all of the questions. all of the whys and the hows.

"i think there is a reason bedtime stories always end with 'happily ever after.' once everything is happy and there's no struggle, then there's no more story to tell. we don't want to hear about happiness and peace unless the story also includes freedom and discovery. without discovery all you have is monotony. without freedom, utopia isn't paradise after all.

it's just hell in a fancy prom dress."

-steven james, story

courage

talked to my mom tonight. she was in a hotel room in denver. waiting for my dad to get out of his business meeting.

my dad travels out to denver frequently. they have a big office out there. he's the boss-man so he has to go out there. but this time my mom went.

they are house-hunting. after years of fighting it, my mom has finally agreed to go. so my parents are moving. to denver. all the way across the u.s. i can hardly believe it.

as i talked to her tonight and was thinking about it later, i realized something. another "realization of emotion" similar to my "happiness" epiphany today . . .

i am proud of my parents.

"strange," i thought. "isn't it supposed to be the parents being proud of their kids?"

but i am indeed proud of my parents.

for thirteen years they have lived in the same house. they have lived next to the same neighbors (on both sides, i might add) for 13 years. they have seen their three kids thru middle school, high school and college in that house. they have gone from a full house to an empty nest there. they have re-modeled every room in the house at least once. my dad has driven 1-95 up and back to d.c. every day. they have watched our town change from lots of green fields to lots of strip malls and restaurants and wal-marts. they have developed close friendships over the years.

they are established. and now they are leaving.

and i am proud of my parents because they are courageous. it takes courage to look at a house that you have spent years making into your home and give it away to someone else. it takes courage to take on the daunting task of packing up, throwing out or giving away what the nooks and crannies of a house have accumulated over 13 years. it takes courage to leave everything that you know, everyone you know (even your three kids) and move across the country. it takes courage to step out of the comfortable and known into newness that can be intimidating and lonely.

i admire this courage in them. probably because i want so much for me to be that way too. to be courageous.

i am both proud of my parents and so excited for them. i found myself smiling as my mom (who is NOT a city person) told me how she's spent her day running around downtown denver, learning how to use the public transit system, offering up a bagel and jelly to a homeless woman who was nursing a cup of coffee in the diner where she had breakfast, looking at homes that are only 5 mins away from where my dad will work so he will no longer have a 1-3 hour commute each way every day, wishing that i were there with her because "sarah, you would fit so well here."

my parents are moving to denver. exciting.

sitting and happiness

do you ever just sit? not sit and read. not sit and listen to music. not sit and watch t.v.

just sit.

i accidently went to volleyball an hour early tonight. so i had an hour to kill. and i found myself just sitting. in the dugout of an empty baseball field. on the cold metal bench. watching the sunset.

and as i was sitting, i had this thought some over me. "i am happy."

so i sat a little longer just kinda mulling that over in my head. it's kind of a funny realization to come to, you know. the realization of such a basic emotion. it's almost as if i had been standing out in the rain for 10 minutes and all of a sudden realized, "hey, i'm getting wet." like i should have noticed it a long time ago.

so then i thought, "well, why am i happy?" and a million things started flooding my mind. and i started listing them. here's part of the list.

i'm happy to be sitting on a cold, metal bench watching the sunset.
i'm happy to know the God that created the sun and moves it across the sky every day.
i'm happy that no one in the world knows where i am right now except God.
i'm happy to have seen steph and faith tonight.
i'm happy for the 4 new c.d.s i got in the mail.
i'm happy that God has given certain people the ability to make words and music go well together; to express feeling and thoughts and ideas that i can't so poetically put words to.
i'm happy kyrie intoduced me to k.t. tunstall.
i'm happy the the book i ordered came in.
i'm happy that i had a relatively easy day at work.
i'm happy i got to take a walk with 2 of my co-workers at lunch.
i'm happy that God has blessed me with a mind capable of doing what i do.
i'm happy that i love what i do.
i'm happy for grace for the many times i think of myself rather than my God and others.
i'm happy to know the God who is Love - and to know that He changes me into a person of love.
i'm happy about getting to take pictures for my friends this saturday while they play volleyball.
i'm happy that God is too mysterious for me to fully understand.
i'm happy that He is also bigger than my doubts; that He can handle them.
i'm happy to have talked with my mom tonight.
i'm happy because the girls in my small group bless me more than i could ever bless them.
i'm happy because i've finally realized that it's the Holy Spirit's job to change a person's heart, not mine.
i'm happy that the word of God speaks for itself.
i'm happy that it's getting warm outside.
i'm happy that i accidently went to volleyball an hour early.


so, yeah . . . i realized tonight that i am happy. all because i took the time to sit.

great song . . .

it haunts me so
this gloomy weight
that comes and goes
without a trace
a thousand times my flesh embrace
a thousand more, but if for grace

to see the Lord, the promise land
wherein all sin's pearly gates look bland
and what was once a pearl, now sand
that blows away, that blows away
in light of Him

when battle lines become unclear
and the waging war is all I hear
Lord, sustain me with Your voice
and the choice to walk in truth

to see the Lord, the promised land
wherein all sin's pearly gates look bland
and what was once a pearl, now sand
that blows away, that blows away
in light of Him

that I might see this day
this waging war might go away
and be no more
that I might see His face
and hear Him say
son, welcome home
the war is over

to see the Lord, the promised land
wherein all sin's pearly gates look bland
and what was once a pearl, now sand
that blows away . . .
in light of HIM

waging war, clean ~shane and shane


"So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members.
What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!" romans 7:21-25

i've gotten hooked on a book again. i have so many books that sit on my shelf that are un-read. you'd think i'd read those before i go back to the ones i've already read. but, no . . . some are just too good and need to be re-read every once in awhile. i inadvertently got re-attached to this one. an excerpt:

"the real test of being in the presence of God is that you either forget yourself all together or see yourself as a small, dirty object. it is better to forget about yourself altogether."

~c.s. lewis, mere christianity

forgetting about myself. seeing Him. the latter produces the former. makes sense.

i love that God makes sense.

this entry is spurred from a movie i saw on friday night - "equilibrium". i will not try to explain the movie, as it is conceptually complicated, but i recommend it. it is worth watching for the simple fact that it makes you realize how much you "feel".

as i watched it, i thought of these words from c.s. lewis:

"God created things which had free will. That means creatures which can go either wrong or right. Some people think they can imagine a creature which was free but had no possibility of going wrong; I cannot. If a thing is free to be good, it is also gree to be bad. And free will is what has made evil possible.

Why, then, did God give them free will? Because free will, though it makes evil possible, is also the only thing that makes possible any love or goodness or joy worth having.

A world of automata - of creatures that worked like machines - would hardly be worth creating.

The happiness which God designs for his higher creatures is the happiness of being freely, voluntarily united to Him and to each other in an ecstasy of love and delight compared with which the most rapturous love between a man and a woman on this earth is mere milk and water.

And for that they must be free."

wise words. an all-wise God. i'll take the bad with the good for the sake of having freedom. for it allows me to know true Love.

last night i remember thinking as i lay in bed listening to the rain quietly falling outside my window, "maybe you'll wake up to snow in the a.m.". so when my alarm went off this a.m., in my half-awake stupor i reached over, pushed snooze and started to turn back over for 5 mins . . .

and then i remembered . . .

"maybe you'll wake up to snow in the a.m. . . ."

i shot striaght up in my bed, turned around on my knees and peeked over my headboard, thru the blinds of my window. thru a smile, i whispered, "yes . . ."

i felt like i was 5 years old again.

i like that God allows us to keep some of our childlike qualities . . . wonder is one of those . . .

birds

i stayed late after work today to run on the treadmill in the out-patient therapy gym. the treadmill faces a window that looks out into the employee parking lot. i like running at work because i can look outside while i run . . . most gyms you either stare at a tv screen or a blank wall or watch everyone else working out while you do the same. so even though the view is only of the parking lot and the few trees that surround that area, i appreciate it.

so today, my view was different because of the snow. how is it that snow can even make a parking lot look beautiful? anyway, what i noticed more though was the little birds (i think they were robins) that were hopping around on the snow-covered grass outside the window. they kept pecking at the ground as if they were scarfing up some delicious morsels for dinner that were too small for my eyes to see.

and then the verse came to my head:

consider the ravens: they do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. and how much more valuable you are than birds!

and i looked at these little birds, with their round bellies, gathered together with their little bird friends, looking thru the snow to find the yummy little snacks that the Lord had left for them. and after awhile they flew off . . . probably to their little bird nests to snuggle down under the warmth of their little bird feathers for a lovely little nap.

food.
companionship.
shelter.
warmth.
rest.
all for these little birds.
all from the hand of the Father.

how much more valuable are we than birds.

storytellers

i have been thinking lately . . . or maybe just noticing . . . how much i love reading good stories. actually, more than the stories, i like good storytellers. my friend kate is one of these. sienna howard is one too. i mean, i really, thoroughly enjoy these people. their stories, yes, but even moreso i just enjoy them. the people themselves. wonder why . . .

maybe i like these people because they possess something that i don't - the ability to make you see and hear an experience. maybe it's because they bring out creativity in me. maybe it's because they make me feel something. but i think, more than any of those, it is that these are people that really "see" things.

in order to write it, you have to be aware of it. these people think deeply and richly . . . they are aware of the small details of life . . . the sounds, the smells, atmosphere . . . of the things that make a particular experience truly rich and real . . . the things that make that moment precisely what it is. and they are sensitive and insightful to the reasons, the purposes, the underlying issues that linger in and under and around and within the stories that they tell.

i like these people.

because they make me aware of the details . . . and they prompt me to pay attention to what all those little details do to me on the inside (how the effect my thoughts, my feelings, my actions even). these people help me to see life more fully.

i like good storytellers.

empty passion

"andrew does not believe in empty passion . . .

"andrew woulds say that dying for something is easy because it is associated with glory. living for something, andrew would say, is the hard thing. living for something extends beyond fashion or glory or recognition. we live for what we believe, andrew would say.

"if andrew the protester is right, if i live what i believe, then i don't believe very many noble things. my life testifies that the first thing i believe is that i am the most important person in the world. my life testifies to this because i care more about my food and shelter and happiness than about anybody else.

"i am learning to believe better things. i am learning to believe that oter people exist, that fashion is not truth; rather, Jesus is the most important figure in history, and the gospel is the most powerful force in the universe. i am learning not to be passionate about empty things, but to cultivate passion for justice, grace, truth and communicate the idea that Jesus likes people and even loves them."

--donald miller, blue like jazz

Home

from my journal, thanksgiving weekend, last year. i was in fredericksburg, visiting my family . . . home for the holiday.

"home is one of those funny words . . . one you can use in three consecutive conversations and mean a different place everytime you use it. me, for instance: home (1): fredericksburg, va - where i was raised and my family still lives; home (2): harrisonburg, va - where my heart still is in many respects, and the place where i am at peace; home (3): salisbury, md - where i currently reside. and when you use the word, you then have to be careful to whom you are speaking so that the meaning of the word is not confused. funny how words are . . ."

things have changed a bit since that journal entry last year. as they should. as i hoped they would. home (1) remains the same, except that i have a deeper respect and longing for it than i ever have. home (2), as i learned when i went back in late october, has changed quite a bit. while the memories remain and the evidence to the changes that occurred in me during my time there are still wonderfully evident, it is no longer the place of deepest comfort that i gleaned from it even a year ago. home (3), however, has changed the most. last year at this time, salisbury was simply the place where my apartment was, where my job was, where i rested my head each night. the emotional attachment was little, if any. it was a place to be, for a time. but nothing more. but now it is different. now there are people here that i love. now there are people here who are beginning to know me more than just on a surface-level. now there is a familiarity with the lay of the land. now there is a peace in coming back here after being away for a weekend. now there is some emotional attachment. something that tells me that if i were to leave tomorrow, i would be sad. it is good to feel that after wondering, at one point, if you would ever feel that way.

i have been here almost a year and a half. and year and 4 months to be exact. i am still not sure exactly what it means to call this place my home. but i am learning that individuals, perhaps, never define the word home in the same way. for those who have never left home - never lived anywhere else, home is everything - past, present and (often) future. but for ones like me, who have to number their homes, the definitions are endless. and one home is always missing something that the other home holds. one has all of the childhood memories, the early discipline that shaped basic ideas of right and wrong, the even earlier love that taught you how to love others on the most basic level. one holds the perspective of seeing the world for what it is (both the beauty and the cruelty), the learning how to deal with it on your own, the individuality and humilty that pushed you to be vulnerable and risk something to develop deep relationships, and the fun that made you enjoy life on a whole new level. and even another holds the present, all that is happening on a day to day basis. different places. different characteristics. all home. all legitimately home.

funny how words are . . .

the following poem was written by a guy named jedd medefind in march of 1998. he and three of his friends had set out for a journey around the world - in search of the "epic life". as their webpage states:

"They returned convinced that the very thing they sought - what they called the
epic life - was not to be found "out there" but only in abandon to Jesus in the
ordinary minutes of everyday life..."

in college, some friends and i had the opportunity to sit down to dinner with these guys and their wives and hear a little more about their story (they were speaking at my university for our intervarsity large group meeting). check out the book form of what i got to hear: www.foursoulsthebook.com.

back to the poem you are about to read. from jedd:

"this poem was written in india after a troubling episode in which mike, matt,
trey and i prayed for a crippled indian man with an uncommon confidence he
would be healed. he was not healed."

here the immense honesty in his words. and the beautiful Love that allows him to question yet captivates him with truth.

"Doubt"
My faith lies like a broken man.
Yesterday I praised Him with palm branches; but something in me today cries out,
"Crucify your foolish hope! You only thought you saw the leper cleansed and that lame man click his heals."
I writhe in my unsurity.
Christ never used the coercion of a miracle one must believe.
"Why," I shout with the Inquisitor, "do You not make belief compulsory? Show Your hand!"
But finally, my rage spent, I crumple down upon the dusty road, and in my mind sift through a desert.
Some see God as shackles, and in doubt they glimpse a liberating key.
But I see better than that.
For even if the skeptics were right, and heaven did not exist, hell most certainly would.
For whether or not there is a God, hell is to live without Him.
Life alone is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.
A moment of joy, a brief taste of pleasure…"the early leaf's a flower, but only so an hour."
Hope is false, peace an illusion, and happiness, at best, is fleeting.
Indeed, if Christ is not raised from the dead, we are all most miserable men…
And invading my thoughts, the soft slap of sandals upon the path.
I do not raise my head for fear of seeing no one.
But still a voice speaks deep and gentle, "You too will not leave me?"
And I reply, "Whence shall I go, Lord?"

--jedd medefind

and, with peter and jedd, i reply,
“whence shall i go, Lord?”

john 6:67-68

for more of jedd's poetry, check out http://www.foursoulsthebook.com/jeddspoetry.htm

i love tiramisu. i love surprise visits. i love anne of avonlea. i love fun phone calls. i love thoughtful friends.

last night, i experienced all of those. imagine . . . all of those wonderful things in one night. i'd say that's a pretty darn good night, wouldn't you? i sure thought so.

did i mention i love tiramisu?

irony at the gym

so since it has started getting dark about the time i get home from work, it has severly limited the amount of time i have to run outdoors . . . which in essence means i have to run on the treadmill instead (which, i will add, is not the same . . . nor is it near as enjoyable). so for the past few weeks i have plodded over to the gym at my apt complex to go for my runs.
at this point, it is important that you know that there is a large t.v. mounted in our work-out room. now, if i get lucky enough to be the only one in the room, the t.v. stays off . . . i'd rather run in silence than listen to most of what is on t.v. these days. plus it gives me good thinking time. but if other people are in there, the t.v. usually gets turned on. sometimes it's sports or news - so i watch it and usually learn something. and sometimes it's something like the o.c. or the simpsons or the terminator (yes, that was on once), so i zone out.

but the irony of this story comes in what i have had to watch the last few times i have gone for my run. as if running 3-5 miles is not difficult enough to get thru after you've worked a full day, i come in to see that lovely t.v. turned to THE FOOD NETWORK. now honestly, i don't know who does this. i don't know HOW they do it. who wants to be running or lifting weights or riding a bike or whatever you do while you are watching these lovely chef-people cook and bake and sautee and simmer up these delicious, mouth-watering meals. i mean, really, it's like torture. and you can't very well just zone out because . . . well . . . it's food . . . and it looks so good you can almost smell it. so instead, i just keep watching, all the while burning off calories but really wishing i were sitting in that lady's kitchen sampling the things she's making.

long-distance runners always say that 50% of the run is mental . . . in tonight's case, i think the mental portion of my run was around 80%.

i now have a love/hate relationship with the food network.

(note: another blog may soon follow discussing this phenomenon of cooking shows that seem to have erupted over the last couple of years . . . i had time to think about this during the commercial breaks tonight . . . it's really quite ridiculous and unbelievable . . . what ever happened to good 'ol cookbooks that you get from church where all the old ladies have put in their secret family recipies??? now we have to have people on at all hours of the day and night showing us how to cook? craziness, i say . . . but that's for another blog at another time . . .)

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE UNASHAMED

(Said to be written by a young African pastor and tacked to the wall of
his house; discovered by those who entered his house after he was
martyred.)

"I am part of the Fellowship of the Unashamed. I have Holy Spirit
power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The
decision has been made. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I won't look
back, let up, slow down, back away or be still.

"My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future secure. I
am finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning,
smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, mundane talking, chintzy
giving and dwarfed goals.

"I no longer need pre-eminence, prosperity, position, promotions,
plaudits or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops,
recognized, praised, regarded or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on
His presence, love by patience, lift by prayer and labor by power.

"My face is set, my gait fast, my goal heaven, my road narrow, my way
rough, my companions few, my Guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot
be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded or
delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the
presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at
the pool of popularity or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

"I won't give up, back up, let up or shut up until I have preached up,
paid up, stayed up, stored up, and prayed up for the cause of Christ. I
am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I must go until He comes, give until I
drop, preach until all know Him and work until He stops me. And when He
comes to get His own, He will have no problem recognizing me - my
colors will be clear."

oh, that our lives would be lived with this boldness . . . with this much conviction . . .

doubtless this man knew the truth of these statements:

"he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose"

--jim elliott

"if anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. for whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it."

--jesus

a simple poem. but beautiful. because it's simple. and because it's true.

Follow Me . . .

Listen. There’s a group of people
I want to tell you about.
They’re not the
extraordinarily intelligent,
strikingly beautiful,
got-it-all-together,
know-it-all
kind of people.
They’re the
kind of people
who’ll stop
by the side of the road
to pull a total stranger
out of the mud.

No, they’re not perfect.

They’re human. But they’re the
kind of people
who’ll stay up all night
with you when you
find out
your grandfather just died.
They’re the kind of people
you fall asleep with
while watching long movies.

No, they’re not perfect.

They’re the kind of people
you eat too many
hand-picked apples with
and sprain your ankle
miniature golfing with.
They’re the kind of people you walk
up to at a frat house with
where unfamiliar students
are sitting outside
and you invite those students
to come and learn
about Jesus.

No, they’re not perfect.

They’re the kind of people
that try to have conversations
that cut through
all the walls and all the masks
people use to keep other people
at a safe distance.

No, they’re not perfect,
and they don’t pretend to be.

That’s the thing.
They’ve done everything else.
They didn’t used to think twice
about picking locks,
stealing road signs,
drinking a 5th of gin
after a whole case of Molsen Ice,
sleeping with a new guy
every Friday night because
they were too lonely
to sleep by themselves.
They used to be petrified of death.
They used to wake up
in the middle of the night
with tears streaming
down their faces
because they new something
was missing in their life,
but they didn’t know what.
They used to stand
in from of the mirror
and wish they could
look like a Vogue model
or be as famous,
because that would mean
people accepted them.
They used to think
they could do it all on their own.
They used to think they
could find ultimate satisfaction
in education
or saving the environment
or fighting for a cause
or looking good to others
or trying to do what they thought
was the right thing.

They weren’t perfect then,
and they’re not perfect now.

They realized these things
didn’t last forever.
A person can only
sleep with someone
stay angry
get drunk
steal
hurt
put up walls
protest
study
look good
act perfect
and stay miserable
for so long.

Then it gets old
and they want someone
to be there
when their fun-loving mask
has worn off,
their ambition has fizzled,
their grades have sunk,
their walls have tumbled
and their heart is broken.

This is what happened to
the people I want you to meet.
They realized
there was another way,
a better way.
Then someone whispered quietly
in their ears, “Follow me,”

And they did.

Christina Burke
Wheaton College
Norton, Massachusetts
Class of 1997

a note to all holiday bakers:

if you are planning to cook with pumpkin, be sure to change into something that you don't mind getting messy, because the pumpkin will inevitably end up all over you. and it doesn't come out so easy with a washrag. hopefully the washer will do a better job.

this has happened to me twice in the last 48 hours. you'd think i would have learned the first time.

food for thought. a friend gave me these on index cards when i was in college - possibly the busiest time of my life thus far. i keep these on a little ring with some other key scripture verses and carry them with me. read and do.

we need silence to be alone with God, to speak to him, to listen to him, to ponder his words deep in our hearts. we need to be alone with God in silence to be renewed and transformed. silence gives us a new outlook on life. in it we are filled with the energy of God himself that makes us do all things with joy.

silence of the eyes by seeking always the beauty and goodness of God everywhere and closing them to the faults of others and to all that is sinful and disturbing to the soul.

silence of the ears, by listening always to the voice of God and the cry of the poor and needy, and closing them to all the other voices that come from the evil one and from fallen human nature, e.g. gossip, tale-bearing, uncharitable words.

silence of the tongue, by praising God and speaking the life-giving Word of God that is Truth that enlightens and inspires, brings peace, hope and joy, and refraining from self-defence and every word that causes darkness, turmoil, pain and death.

silence of the mind by opening it to the Truth and knowledge of God in prayer and contemplation, like Mary who pondered the marvvels of the Lord in her heart, and closing it to all untruths, distractions, destructive thoughts like rash judgment, false suspicion of others, revengeful thoughts and desires.

silence of the heart, by loving God with our whole heart, soul, mind and strength and one another as God loves, desiring God alone and avoiding all selfishness, hatred, envy, jealousy and greed.

a tall order.

take time to be silent . . . to be still . . . to listen for His voice . . .

so i was at the supermarket today, and as i passed down the juice aisle, i actually laughed outloud - all i could hear was brian regan,

"i don't know what it is with cranberries . . . but they're getttin in all the other juices! whoever the salesman is for cranberries is doing a heck of a job . . ."

it's true. half the juices on the juice aisle are cran-something. crazy.

"Some may wish to live with the sound
of church and chapel bell-
I wish to run a rescue shop
within a yard of hell."
--C.T. Studd

words of wisdom gathered from k. fletch. sharing the wealth.

my heart's cry. wherever it may be.

easter in a cancer ward

i first read this poem in college - a friend passed it my way. i'm still not sure i fully understand it all, but i know for sure that i felt a whole mess of emotions - fluctuating from one extreme to the other in a matter of a line - as i read it. the more i read it, the more i love it. i love the colors. i love the imagery. i love how i can see and hear and feel this poem. picture it as you go. and experience it. sometimes only in coming face to face with death, do we come to understand true life. come to belief.

Easter in a Cancer Ward
--Nicholas Samaras

Because it has been years since my hands
have dyed an egg or I've remembered
my father with color in his beard,
because my fingers have forgotten
the feel of wax melting on my skin,
the heat of the paraffin warping air,
because I prefer to view death politely from afar,
I agree to visit the children's cancer ward.

In her ballet-like butterfly slippers, Elaine pad-pads
down the carpeted hall. I bring the bright bags,
press down packets of powdered dye, repress my slight unease.
She sweeps her hair from her volunteer badge, leaves
behind her own residents' ward for a few hours' release.
The new wing's doors glide open onto great light. Everything is
vibrant and clattered with color. Racing
up, children converge, their green voices rising.

What does one do with the embarrassment of staring
at sickness? Suddenly, I don't know where to place
my hands. Children with radiant faces
reach out thinly, clamor for the expected bags, lead
us to the Nurses' kitchen. Elaine introduces me and reads
out a litany of names. Some of the youngest wear
old expressions. The bald little boy loves Elaine's long mane of hair
and holds the healthy thickness to his face, hearing

her laugh as she pulls him close. "I'm dying,"
he says, and Elaine tells him she is, too: too
much iron silting her veins. I can never accept that truth
yes, in five months, she'll slip away in a September
night - leaving her parents and me to bow our heads, bury her
in a white wedding gown, our people's custom.
But right now, I don't know this. Right now, we are young,
still immortal, and the kids fidget, crying

out for their eggs. Elaine divides them into teams;
I lay out the tools for the operation.
I tell them all how painting Easter eggs used to be done
in the Old Country. Before easy dyes were common,
villagers boiled onion peels, ladled eggs
into pots so the shells wouldn't break.
They'd scoop them out, flushed a brownish-
red, and the elders would polish and polish

them with olive oil, singing hymns for the Holy Thursday hours.
The children laugh and boo when I try to sing. The boys swirl
speckles of color into hot water, while the girls
time the eggs. When a white-faced boy asks from nowhere
if I believe in Christ and living forever,
I stop stirring the mix, answer, "Yes, I do." I answer slowly
and when I speak, my own voice deafens me.
The simple truth blooms like these painted flowers

riding up the bright kitchen walls. I come
to belief. I know that much. Still, what a man may
do with his beliefs demands more than what he says.
Now, the hot waters are stained a rich red. The eggs have
boiled and cooled. To each set of hand, Elaine gives
one towel, three eggs. I pass the pot of melted paraffin,
show the children how to take the eggs and dip them in
and out. While the wax hardens to an opaque film, we hum

Cristos Aneste and the room bustles, ajabber
with speech. Holding pins firmly, we scratch out mad
designs where the color will fill. Small, flurried hands
etch and scrim the shells. Everyone's fingers whorl
and scratch in names, delicate and final.
Edging the hall's threshold, an April allow-
ance of sun filters through tinted windows. Faces furrow
in solemn concentration. Looking to Elaine, my thoughts clamor

for what is redemptive in illness, for having
a Credo to hold these people to me. Etchings
done, everyone immerses the waxy eggs in the pooled
dye. We ooh together when transfigured eggs are spooned
out, wiped, and dried on the counters. Soft wax
is peeled gingerly, flecked away; more oohs for the tracks
of limned lines, testimonial names.
We burnish the shells with olive oli for a fine sheen.

For a moment, the cultivated, finished eggs hush
the room. Then, every child goes wild in a rush
to compare, to show the nurses, each
other. The bald boy taps my waist. Lined up and speech-
less, they present me with a bright, autographed
egg, communally done. Elaine makes me close my eyes and laughs
when small limbs push at my back to follow
her. They shove my hands in the cool, wet, red dye. The hollow-

eyed girl squeals til tears streak from laughing.
Another child cries, "You'll never get it off!
And today, I don't want to. Today,
we've painted eggs a lively color, not caring
about the body's cells and the cells' incarceration.
I lift my arms to embrace Elaine, dab her nose and chin.
And my hands are vivid red. My hands
are bloody with resurrection

and we are laughing.