If I were to wait for an opportune time to begin this blog post, you would not be reading this right now. Thoughts have been formulating in my mind for some time, now, and often while I patrol my beautiful school campus during the red eye shifts of the night, I think of the words I wish to write. Words, words, words. So utterly meaningless, yet also so very amazing. I'm sure you know I love pictures; I often intersperse my blog posts with pictures. But do you know that I love words - that I eat, sleep and breath them? Somehow, words contain such possibilities to ignite peace, love, hope, faith and confidence inside my soul. The right word, rightly spoken, at the right time, creates a strength I didn't know I was capable of, and I keep on.
"I love you, you know that?" ~Rachel, my altogether-too-mature 14-yr-old Amish friend and bakery coworker....
"You're such a goofball." ~said lovingly, appreciatively, by numerous people;
"If I don't tell you [a secret], I tell no one. [...]
You may read my [private] journal, I'm not afraid for you to see my thoughts. You are privacy." ~my special Patty-Jo-buddy-girl <3
"You know what? I really like you! I'm looking forward to getting to know you! [...] We're somewhat alike!" ~Laura
"You know what? I really like you! I'm looking forward to getting to know you! [...] We're somewhat alike!" ~Laura
Words always mean a lot to me, especially when coupled by actions or a kind physical touch. Nowadays, it has been normal for me to go for days without physical contact with another person, or for someone to say my name aloud. Most days it goes hours before I need to speak, or before someone is even around for me to speak to. I believe those are some of the things I miss the most from living at home, that I never expected. Hugs, hugs, hugs.... and hearing my name! I knew I'd be lonely here on my school campus, but I am learning new levels of loneliness. It's not all terrible, and I don't mean to make it sound such. I am learning to relish the silence, and find comfort in stillness. There is such a beauty in the ache of loneliness. If that sounds wrong to you, I do admit that perhaps it is a twisted perspective. Even so, I see my Jesus in the wilderness, drawing near to our Father in the silence, the stillness, and I draw comfort from Jesus having his times of loneliness.
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
~Shelley
There is a lot that has been going through my mind as of late, some of which I am not sure how to put into words. Struggles with understanding God, and with seeing Him in the midst of this crazy life, questions of how to grow closer to the God whom I worship, respect and love, and how I should think of Him... This Creator God bewilders me, my friends, and I need to know Him better.
In my weekly wanderings, I have been experiencing a wide variety of happenings. Dance class has been going excellently, and work has been delightful, although sometimes extremely drowsy. Most of my work schedule is during the red eye shifts, midnight to eight a.m., so during the day I try to get sleep. Weekends are rather tough because I work very long day hours, and that combined with being used to sleeping all day makes me very tired. This past weekend I managed to get nine hours of sleep in a 75 hour time period. You can imagine how deeply I slept today. I only woke up once from 8am-6pm, and usually when I sleep during the day, I sleep lightly and wake up periodically! Tonight is another eight hour red eye shift, but I'm looking forward to that. I enjoy walking over campus in the dark, and especially from five to six a.m., because the sky looks simply beautiful as the sun rises.
These words, my heart, my heart.... These words are the essence of my feelings right now. A simple, open, free questioning; simple acceptance.
i am a man and i must die
at most my years a century
a whisp of cloud, who in the sky
a weeping vapor fades and flees
i am a man and i will fly
not caged by mortal canopy
nor as eternal stars that lie
reflected in night's starry eaves
i wonder if they weary grow
of watching the galactic flow
that through the eons burn and glow
in mysteries that shadows know
what a relief, with open hands
to lie my heavy burdens down
to pass the fiery, burning brand
to younger men, a newer crown
when i am gone weep not for me
the stormy skies in melody
the thunder holds in harmony
they sing their songs, and i am free.
~felicia yoder
And I am free....
It seems that I often will feel one of four emotions about life: either a bleak apathy, a eager passion, a bitter and fearsome hatred, or a open acceptance. Right now as I move on and keep marching forward as best I can, I am simply being. Accepting life as it is, accepting the good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. It comes back to words again... not simply any words, not empty words, but the real words of the heart - the poetry of life. There is a poetry in our souls, one we must be sure to take notice of. Sometimes the poetry is a weary and sad sonnet, other times it is one of peace or vibrant happiness. The poetry in our hearts reverberates against the poetry of the world and touches the poetry in the people surrounding us. Sometimes our poetry affects others, and sometimes others poetry affects us. There are times that our poetry is not reflective of the poetry in God and nature... there are times that others with dark poetry in their hearts surround us, and we believe things about life and ourselves that are wrong. If that is you, love, let me tell you, turn your face to the sun and see the light! There is a poetry of light and truth, higher and more pure than any dark and heavy poetry surrounding you now.
Listen, in the silence you can hear it now.
~
Do not stand at my grave and weep:
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.
~Mary Elizabeth Frye
~
I have been one acquainted with the night...
at most my years a century
a whisp of cloud, who in the sky
a weeping vapor fades and flees
i am a man and i will fly
not caged by mortal canopy
nor as eternal stars that lie
reflected in night's starry eaves
i wonder if they weary grow
of watching the galactic flow
that through the eons burn and glow
in mysteries that shadows know
what a relief, with open hands
to lie my heavy burdens down
to pass the fiery, burning brand
to younger men, a newer crown
when i am gone weep not for me
the stormy skies in melody
the thunder holds in harmony
they sing their songs, and i am free.
~felicia yoder
And I am free....
It seems that I often will feel one of four emotions about life: either a bleak apathy, a eager passion, a bitter and fearsome hatred, or a open acceptance. Right now as I move on and keep marching forward as best I can, I am simply being. Accepting life as it is, accepting the good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. It comes back to words again... not simply any words, not empty words, but the real words of the heart - the poetry of life. There is a poetry in our souls, one we must be sure to take notice of. Sometimes the poetry is a weary and sad sonnet, other times it is one of peace or vibrant happiness. The poetry in our hearts reverberates against the poetry of the world and touches the poetry in the people surrounding us. Sometimes our poetry affects others, and sometimes others poetry affects us. There are times that our poetry is not reflective of the poetry in God and nature... there are times that others with dark poetry in their hearts surround us, and we believe things about life and ourselves that are wrong. If that is you, love, let me tell you, turn your face to the sun and see the light! There is a poetry of light and truth, higher and more pure than any dark and heavy poetry surrounding you now.
Listen, in the silence you can hear it now.
~
Do not stand at my grave and weep:
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.
~Mary Elizabeth Frye
~
I have been one acquainted with the night...
