They say that a tree must have room to grow. Enough space to dig its roots deep into the soil where the best nutrients are. Freedom to twist and stretch out its branches.
And if it can't. If it finds itself trapped in too small or shallow a plot...
... The roots tangle.
... They twist around themselves.
... And the tree suffocates.
... It dies.
A tree may grow in Brooklyn, but I'm afraid it won't grow here.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
I REALLY am special, just let me show you how much!
Last week, as my coworker and I took another breather to chat while the boss was out of town, she told me about the little "presents" her golden retriever pup, Tango, had left her.
She shared how after he had spent much of the afternoon running around the yard with his brother, Tango stumbled upon a foreign hole, the contents of which he thought were worth sharing. So, when my coworker called "the boys" in, she was horrified at the "gifts" Tango had brought her - 3 tiny little bunny babies, half-dead.
It seems little Tango wanted to show his mommy just how much he loves her...
Yesterday at church, the pastor spoke on Galations 1:1-5. He vehemently attempted to remind us that God's grace and Christ's sacrifice are enough. That we needn't let the burden of sin consume us because we were/are free, FREE in Christ.
It was a comfort to be reminded of that... to let the message of grace consume my guilt at not being or doing what is considered "right" in my own shallow faith. And as I sat and listened, encouraged by the fact that I had NO part in my salvation apart from Christ, I was reminded of poor little Tango.
Too many times in my life, I have been hard-pressed to show God how thankful and appreciative I am - serving here, sacrificing there - but always fearful that it wasn't enough. Like Tango, I kept trying to bring my soiled, yet well-intentioned gifts to the throne when all He wanted was me. My devotion. My faith in Him. Me.
Just me.
She shared how after he had spent much of the afternoon running around the yard with his brother, Tango stumbled upon a foreign hole, the contents of which he thought were worth sharing. So, when my coworker called "the boys" in, she was horrified at the "gifts" Tango had brought her - 3 tiny little bunny babies, half-dead.
It seems little Tango wanted to show his mommy just how much he loves her...
Yesterday at church, the pastor spoke on Galations 1:1-5. He vehemently attempted to remind us that God's grace and Christ's sacrifice are enough. That we needn't let the burden of sin consume us because we were/are free, FREE in Christ.
It was a comfort to be reminded of that... to let the message of grace consume my guilt at not being or doing what is considered "right" in my own shallow faith. And as I sat and listened, encouraged by the fact that I had NO part in my salvation apart from Christ, I was reminded of poor little Tango.
Too many times in my life, I have been hard-pressed to show God how thankful and appreciative I am - serving here, sacrificing there - but always fearful that it wasn't enough. Like Tango, I kept trying to bring my soiled, yet well-intentioned gifts to the throne when all He wanted was me. My devotion. My faith in Him. Me.
Just me.
I think I'll let my heart chew on that bone some more...
well, is that all...
i was watching television with my younger cousins, commenting on kimora's most recent addition to her "fabulous" team (yes i'm afraid to admit that i'm addicted to 3 vh1 shows), when the older - who is about 8yrs younger than me - began to ask a series of questions about diamonds... namely engagement rings. our repertoire for the next 10 minutes or so included my asking ad nauseum for her to clarify. after i finally got an idea of what it was that she was asking (i.e. her idea of the "perfect" diamond), i responded with a very generic quote in the 5-digit range to which she quickly responded, "oh, is THAT all?!"
i looked at her in shock.
"what do you mean, 'is that all?'?!?!"
"well, ______'s ring was like $400,000.00." [spoken VERY matter-of-factly]
in all honesty, i told her that i was/would be disgusted if ________ had told me she/her husband spent THAT much money on a tiny little thing like a ring.
she was noticeably defensive. and tried to rectify the situation by telling me she would be FINE with a $ 10,000.00 ring.
i told her how i didn't understand how someone could waste THAT much money on something as small as a ring. i adamantly voiced that i'd rather spend that on a house or a car (or, in retrospect, my future children's education).
she jokingly responded, "yeah, i'd rather have the ring!"
"do you know that there are people in this world who will NEVER see that much money in their ENTIRE LIVES?!," i blurted out.
she was struck and even more defensive. i was defensive and heated. we ended the conversation there as she stepped out of the room.
and as her younger sister and i finished watching the show - witnessing the new assistant's jaw drop and drool pour out of her mouth as she toured the Lee-Simmons "humble" abode, i began to worry...
i worried what had happened to these girls, now young women. i wondered who or what had corrupted their minds to convince them that their worth was in the THINGS they owned and was disgusted at their lack of concern about real matters of the world... outside of the ones they'd created.
you have one life, unni... you should enjoy it!
their words echoed in my head and heart and i was scared. scared for them. scared for this generation. (yes, i know i sound like an old bitty!)
in this time of instant gratification (e.g. my typing this blog and sending it out to the masses with a click of a button), i wonder at the state of the nation.
girls are once again told they must measure up to the standards of "hawt" boys and the media (e.g. the not to bright girls of "the pick-up artist").
we are told it's OK to lie and screw people over if it means you get what you want.
money makes the world go round
you're only as good as the things you own and the labels you wear (so true of "urban" areas like mine where people are prone to spend their last dollar on butt-ugly "designer" duds if it means they look like "rock stars")
emulate the paris hiltons of this world... they're at the center of what matters
[ blah blah. gag gag. barf barf. roll of eyes ]
now, am i saying that i'm above all this? certainly not! i'm as much a slave to consumerism as the next gal. i just hope that in the end i'll be impressed not by the balenciaga bag you carry, but by your burdened heart for the poor. that i'd be impressed with your desire to walk in the shoes of the brokenhearted, not your brand new jimmy choos. that i'd admire your passion and concern for a (good) cause, not your size 0 status. that i'd be made to feel inferior and question myself not because of your to your 6-figure salary, but your ability to forgive and show grace to other, to me.
"you have one life... you should enjoy it!"
something i guess i need to consider more...
i looked at her in shock.
"what do you mean, 'is that all?'?!?!"
"well, ______'s ring was like $400,000.00." [spoken VERY matter-of-factly]
in all honesty, i told her that i was/would be disgusted if ________ had told me she/her husband spent THAT much money on a tiny little thing like a ring.
she was noticeably defensive. and tried to rectify the situation by telling me she would be FINE with a $ 10,000.00 ring.
i told her how i didn't understand how someone could waste THAT much money on something as small as a ring. i adamantly voiced that i'd rather spend that on a house or a car (or, in retrospect, my future children's education).
she jokingly responded, "yeah, i'd rather have the ring!"
"do you know that there are people in this world who will NEVER see that much money in their ENTIRE LIVES?!," i blurted out.
she was struck and even more defensive. i was defensive and heated. we ended the conversation there as she stepped out of the room.
and as her younger sister and i finished watching the show - witnessing the new assistant's jaw drop and drool pour out of her mouth as she toured the Lee-Simmons "humble" abode, i began to worry...
i worried what had happened to these girls, now young women. i wondered who or what had corrupted their minds to convince them that their worth was in the THINGS they owned and was disgusted at their lack of concern about real matters of the world... outside of the ones they'd created.
you have one life, unni... you should enjoy it!
their words echoed in my head and heart and i was scared. scared for them. scared for this generation. (yes, i know i sound like an old bitty!)
in this time of instant gratification (e.g. my typing this blog and sending it out to the masses with a click of a button), i wonder at the state of the nation.
girls are once again told they must measure up to the standards of "hawt" boys and the media (e.g. the not to bright girls of "the pick-up artist").
we are told it's OK to lie and screw people over if it means you get what you want.
money makes the world go round
you're only as good as the things you own and the labels you wear (so true of "urban" areas like mine where people are prone to spend their last dollar on butt-ugly "designer" duds if it means they look like "rock stars")
emulate the paris hiltons of this world... they're at the center of what matters
[ blah blah. gag gag. barf barf. roll of eyes ]
now, am i saying that i'm above all this? certainly not! i'm as much a slave to consumerism as the next gal. i just hope that in the end i'll be impressed not by the balenciaga bag you carry, but by your burdened heart for the poor. that i'd be impressed with your desire to walk in the shoes of the brokenhearted, not your brand new jimmy choos. that i'd admire your passion and concern for a (good) cause, not your size 0 status. that i'd be made to feel inferior and question myself not because of your to your 6-figure salary, but your ability to forgive and show grace to other, to me.
"you have one life... you should enjoy it!"
something i guess i need to consider more...
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
The Fear You'll Leave
I had a dream the other day.
Yes, I realize this is no monumental feat since we all dream, but you must understand this: I rarely remember my dreams. They're too clouded by shear exhaustion, victims to a brain and memory that go on strike each night. The ones I do remember, however, haunt me. They linger and stake their claim to my days. Like a gnat searching for warmth, they stay close and pester me.
I dreamt I was married. Living a quiet life with my husband out in the old prairies. Making a home of our modest abode.
My Mr. was kind and handsome, tall and fit. He had a warm demeanor and there was a gentleness in his eyes. When he held me, the world melted away. I felt secure. Safe. Confident.
But it was when I wasn't in his arms, that my insecurities raised their hell.
I worried if he loved me. I was scared that he didn't care or find me desirable anymore.
I could see my anxiety wear away at his patience and yet I couldn't shake this plague of thoughts. It came to a point where he would hold me once again, wipe the tears and kiss my forehead, and yet, my doubt wouldn't subside.
I woke up at this point and that feeling of inadeqacy and self-doubt lingered. I have felt the weight of the world on my shoulders once again as my heart did it's bidding.
I'm afraid that this week my heart is up to no good...
Yes, I realize this is no monumental feat since we all dream, but you must understand this: I rarely remember my dreams. They're too clouded by shear exhaustion, victims to a brain and memory that go on strike each night. The ones I do remember, however, haunt me. They linger and stake their claim to my days. Like a gnat searching for warmth, they stay close and pester me.
I dreamt I was married. Living a quiet life with my husband out in the old prairies. Making a home of our modest abode.
My Mr. was kind and handsome, tall and fit. He had a warm demeanor and there was a gentleness in his eyes. When he held me, the world melted away. I felt secure. Safe. Confident.
But it was when I wasn't in his arms, that my insecurities raised their hell.
I worried if he loved me. I was scared that he didn't care or find me desirable anymore.
I could see my anxiety wear away at his patience and yet I couldn't shake this plague of thoughts. It came to a point where he would hold me once again, wipe the tears and kiss my forehead, and yet, my doubt wouldn't subside.
I woke up at this point and that feeling of inadeqacy and self-doubt lingered. I have felt the weight of the world on my shoulders once again as my heart did it's bidding.
I'm afraid that this week my heart is up to no good...
Blogging, Squared.
I wrote the following in response to AllieDearest's last blog.
[Yes, I blogged within a blog... I wonder if I just started some apocalyptic chain of events in the blogoshere?!?!]
[Yes, I blogged within a blog... I wonder if I just started some apocalyptic chain of events in the blogoshere?!?!]
... i see the demolition tape all around. i can hear the jackhammers as His heart's beat grows louder in mine. and it terrifies me sometimes.
the pieces crumble, the cracks appear and i am not who i was.
i can't make sense of the rubble around me, but i need to remind myself to hold on, to trust and have faith.
but darn it, i keep getting my hands dirty, trying to interfere.
there i go again...
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
These have been an awkward few months for me. Knowing that I'm being called (lured) to another place and yet, unable to make the trek just yet. I'm not one of those spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants types. I plan. I think. I budget. I try to save.
Though I know it's months away... I find my heart making its peace with this place. This city. This home that has begun to suffocate.
Slowly, I take in the surroundings.
Breathe in the air.
Breathe out the anxiety
whether it's the right thing to do.
In the quiet of sunset,
with the gentle breeze blowing,
the trees wave their farewells.
And I prepare.
My mind
My heart
My hopes
My nerves
For what lies ahead
Breathe in the air.
Breathe out the anxiety
whether it's the right thing to do.
In the quiet of sunset,
with the gentle breeze blowing,
the trees wave their farewells.
And I prepare.
My mind
My heart
My hopes
My nerves
For what lies ahead
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Artificial Heart
I spent a full day gluttonously consuming an assortment of wondrously glorious grilled foods.
2 barbecues in less than 10 hours. I am full and sleepy even now as I relive it...
As I was leaving the home of my co-worker, she gave me a big bear hug and whispered in my ear "I love you."
Those words resounded in my body and sank like a boulder in my sea of thoughts.
"I love you"
I
LOVE
YOU
I've never been one to be open about my affections or endearment for others. Having had so many people in my life leave has caused me to be a bit callous. And it TERRIFIES me. I wonder aloud sometimes What the hell is wrong with you?!?! Why can't you just say it? It's just 3 little words.
But they're not. Not little in the least. Between the spaces, between the words and letters are intricately deep rivers of emotions.
Attachment.
History.
Connection.
Rivers that have been flooded with painful memories. Rivers I have drowned in and then been reborn through once His hand has pulled my out from the trenches of my sins and past. And yet those words... those little words. They get stuck in my throat like thistle.
I
LOVE
YOU
These 3 little words... Why do they intimidate me so?
2 barbecues in less than 10 hours. I am full and sleepy even now as I relive it...
As I was leaving the home of my co-worker, she gave me a big bear hug and whispered in my ear "I love you."
Those words resounded in my body and sank like a boulder in my sea of thoughts.
"I love you"
I
LOVE
YOU
I've never been one to be open about my affections or endearment for others. Having had so many people in my life leave has caused me to be a bit callous. And it TERRIFIES me. I wonder aloud sometimes What the hell is wrong with you?!?! Why can't you just say it? It's just 3 little words.
But they're not. Not little in the least. Between the spaces, between the words and letters are intricately deep rivers of emotions.
Attachment.
History.
Connection.
Rivers that have been flooded with painful memories. Rivers I have drowned in and then been reborn through once His hand has pulled my out from the trenches of my sins and past. And yet those words... those little words. They get stuck in my throat like thistle.
I
LOVE
YOU
These 3 little words... Why do they intimidate me so?
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