The Taking Tree

I stood below and shook the tree
I let your leaves rain down on me
I never crawled your gnarled-up branch
To lay upon you on my back
Never passed a night of stars
Cradled in your twisted arms

I stood below and shook you, tree
And felt your leaves rain down on me

Le To Do List: L'August '09

TO DO LIST Write Thank Yous Call my sister Call my other sister Call my mom Call my brother Wish I could call Dad Study math Study more math Study even more math Get a cat {Make jokes about the cat you'll never ever get} Purchase an insurance plan for the school year Draw a map of our healthcare system on the back of a napkin and then burn it in effigy Find all of Shelby's earrings at the bottom of purse and return them Study even moooooore math Daydream for 2.3 minutes about Mr. Brilliant Buy groceries Make more pudding

Ride With Me

Last Saturday I flew over Nashville in a small plane.
I watched the sun disappear to the West from 4500 feet.

Tonight...I will ride in a jeep with no top or sides, hair flying, taking in the fresh night air, next to a brilliant, older and exciting man.

Relax, this kind of stuff happens every day.
Or not.

I Survived: Just Another Week in Middle America

I've had a long and eventful couple of weeks with a lot of exciting adventures, a lot of new experiences and a lot of deep thinking about my future:

I stopped eating pizza at least once a day.
I started drinking a gallon of water every day.
I flew a small plane for a short while.
I made pudding using soy milk.
I found a lunch workout buddy.
I rented a math textbook.
I saved and saved and saved $$$.
I pushed myself into the oncoming traffic of dating.

I survived

Maybe survival is the best I can hope for considering the variety in that spectrum. Maybe it's too much to hope for that I would be thriving in the midst of such changes. The sad fact is that not all changes are good changes---or at least not all changes make your life a fun-ner place to live. Some things hurt, burn, sting. Some risks you win...but some you lose. And when you take a lot of risks in a row you begin to desensitize yourself to how much you're hurting, burning, stinging.

Today I sat at my desk and cried. I cried because I'm changing. I cried because I didn't get something I wanted very much. I cried because I have no Dad. In the end, my tears were not the flag of despair's victory as much as an error message from an overworked program. I simply cried before I had a moment to stop and consider whether I wanted to cry or not. If there was a victory, it was of fatigue and ennui.

Once the sad forest mist cleared away from my mood, I opened up my little travel bible and read a few Psalms, including Psalm 42. This particular passage stood out to me; sort of gave me a lift.

Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God
for I shall yet praise Him
for the help of His countenance.

So there it is, Hope in God.




I shall yet praise Him.

New Leaf, New Trees

The storm is beginning to rage outside. It sounds so far away from this protected world in my room. The rain is hitting the window with a fury, beat by the wind here and there against our house. But it's not much different than the sound of the water on the glass when you take your car through the car wash.

I've had a long weekend of new experiences and full adventures. I'm stepping out on a limb now, trying new things with new people. I'm seeing myself apart from my community for the first time in a long time--as just a single individual making her way in the world. It's interesting to describe myself, as if for the first time, to a stranger. It's interesting to hear myself describe my family, my decision making, my school life.

Some of it sounds boring.
Some of it sounds quixotic.
I'm not embarrassed by any of it, though. It's all me--I feel like I can truly own my decisions-like they were authentically formed and purposefully carried out.

These Legs; Look at the River!

Some weeks ago, my favorite coworker, Becca, pointed to my knee and asked me what was wrong with my vein. She said, Veins are supposed to be straight. That's not straight!

Imagine, if you will, a gnarling, green-blue river that snakes and winds its way up and around the knee to the inside thigh. Had I noticed it before that second? I guess I did--but it didn't really look like that, at least I don't remember it looking like that. It wasn't twisted, for starters, just closer to the surface and really dark. Now that Becca pointed it out, there aren't any moments when I don't know it's there; I'm constantly aware of the tightness and the slow, dull ache of bad circulation in my lower leg.

In case you don't know very much about varicose veins, here's a little lay-medical snippet:

Healthy veins pump blood back to the heart with a series of one-way valves that prevent the backward flow of blood and the build up of pressure. When we are standing there is a lot of pressure pushing blood back down towards our feet. If these one-way valves are not working, blood can pool in the leg veins causing the veins to enlarge. Varicose veins are dilated veins just under the skin.

Ever feel like you just can't catch a break?
Ugh.
Double ugh.
This really messes up that picture of myself at 45 that I have in my head--the one of me in an elite yoga outfit stretching in a mountain range under an expansive blue sky at 6:00 am. A grateful, wise head above me and a strong, capable body beneath me.

I'm doing whatever I can do--elevating my legs when I'm sleeping or sitting for long periods of time and doing funny feet exercises to flex lower leg muscles and increase blood flow. And of course, there's my daily exercise to increase circulation and raise my blood pressure for a small moment each day.

But it's official: I'm going to be that woman--the one who has to have special assistance at parties; chairs & cushion props always nearby.

Pffft. I've also started doing weird things that feel like they might make a difference, like massaging the vein upward toward my heart, not really knowing if it's helping or hurting. I'm even cutting down my salt intake.

Less salt?
{Insert groan}
I love my salty sunflower seeds from Trader Joes.
I love my salty Snyders of Hanover pretzels.
I love salty eggs.
Buuuuut, I really do like having usable legs, too.

At the end of the day, there's only so much we can do to stave off bodily decline. I'm trying to incorporate every possible healthy lifestyle habit that I can into each 24 hours that I've been given, in an attempt to hold at bay the eventual decay of this delicate vessel I call home. But after all the hard, responsible things have been done, and these unsightly, unfriendly reminders of the fallen world are still snaking in dark rivers across my leg--it's time to make my way through the crowd and and call out for some intervention from Christ, the Healer. It's time for me to reach out and touch the hem of His garment, as it were.

There is hope of deliverance {an awfully big word for such a small need}-there is hope for me that He can and will restore health and bring life and newness to these damaged pathways.

And that brings me to the bigger picture. One thing I did learn last month is that a person can't ignore body issues.

Remember when you were a child and you covered your eyes to hide yourself from a person, thinking that once you couldn't see them, they couldn't see you, either? Well, death and sickness can see you, even if you put your hands over your eyes. It's foolish to deny the need for help and healing; to hope that it will all work itself out, even when you feel death chasing you and changing you. You have to face these things.

Dad's final surgeon told us that the biggest cause of the heart problem that Dad had was denial. There were things he could have changed or done; help he could have gotten. But he didn't even acknowledge the pain. Somehow you have to acknowledge the sickness before you receive the cure. And no, denial isn't a cure.

I've got to face this pain/ this damage/ this decay/ this brokenness. I've got to pray about it, seek wise advice about it, change my ways.

As my friend Dixon often says:
Pray, God is near.

Discipline, You Undesirable Monster

“Winners compare their achievements with their goals, while losers compare their achievements with those of other people.” --Nido Qubein

For whatever reason, early on in life, I learned to define success as living about two millimeters "just outside" of the danger zone. If things get tight or sticky, I'll move heaven and earth to get to a place of safety and security; I think we all know this game.

But harnessing that momentum into actual goal achievement? That's for the birds, right? Ho, ho, ho--my get up and go is strictly reserved for self-defense and survival, or so it seems.

At the end of the day, someone might tell me, "Hey, look around, most people in our generation are having the same problems." But do I really want to grade my own life on a curve?

Do I want to measure my achievements by what everyone else did or by what I personally set out to do?

This last week has been a triumph in money saving, physical fitness and nutrition. I've been on a discipline roll, thanks be to God.

So it makes sense that instead of keeping that good roll going long enough to enjoy the benefits, I would want to just skip working out and go spend money on pizza at Whole Foods. I'm literally having a 2 sides of the aisle war going on in my head as I type this; one part of me urging for continued discipline on the road to eventual achievement--the other part of me saying, "Stop the horse at this depot, you've gone far enough."

What is my strategy?
Where is my resolution?

Somewhere at the bottom of my laundry pile. As inaccessible and undesirable as Mars right now, for the love of Pete.