Idle and Blessed

"One week." That was my first thought as I awoke this morning. One week till I say the vows we wrote. One week till I hold his hand and walk into the future, into the dark. In many ways I have one more week - seven more days of the life I have been used to living. In more ways, my life has already changed. To us, the wedding is an acknowledgement by our community of something that has already begun to happen. We have already combined our hearts and lives. We are already in the process of marriage. This is the party to celebrate. But of course there are ways in which I will not know what I am doing until I do it. Sometimes when I stop and think about it I wonder how it happened that I am now a week away from getting married. I don't know what it means to be a wife. I think at bottom it means blindly agreeing to walk with this man into the dark - whatever comes, good and bad, triumph and hardship, the complete unknown of the rest of our lives. I imagine it's kind ...

I was the kind of kid who climbed trees. Back before I learned how to be afraid of things, I would stuff a notebook and pen into my back pocket, climb with bare feet, and write poems from the safety and seclusion of the highest seat in our sycamore tree. I liked being able to see farther, the breeze making the branch creak and bend underneath me. I also wrote down by the creek, sitting on large boulders my siblings and I called the King and Queen rocks, because they were thrones to us. I would see the water bend and bubble, keeping watch over my small kingdom, scooping up baby crawdads for fun until they pinched me. Whatever I wrote in those journals was garbage, but I remember thinking I was an artist, and that's what matters. All kids should feel like artists. And the earth made me feel that way. To this day nothing inspires me like the wild of an undeveloped landscape, and spending enough time in one makes me feel like a created and natural thing, mortal and real and ear...

Hello, world. Remember me? I don’t write anymore; I wish I could. I know these days are supposed to be the happiest of my life. I’m getting married! I’m a twenty-something in the great wide world with rose-colored glasses and all my years ahead of me… Kinda. I know these days are supposed to be the happiest of my life. I know brides are supposed to be happy and glowing. But want to know a secret? Life just feels pretty hard right now. The weight of this transition in my life is like a wall of bricks slowly piling up on top of me. I get married in four months, I move to an unknown location, my money and time and habits shift. I start an internship in two months that might determine my career; I graduate in May with no plan yet. I will be changing churches, changing jobs, changing bank accounts, changing names. I need a wedding dress. When will I find my wedding dress?!? This is not to say I’m un happy. I’d rather be getting married than anything in the world. My fiancé ...

To despair in death is to deny hope in the resurrection. I write papers about medical ethics a lot. In every paper this is one of my soap boxes. If we actually believed in the resurrection of the body and eternal communion, Medicare wouldn't spend $50 billion annually on the last two months of patients' lives. We wouldn't poke and prod our loved ones, resuscitate them again and again, when their aged bodies are so tired. 80% of us wouldn't die in hospital facilities instead of with our families. I digress. You all know by now that last night Kelly Gissendaner became the first woman to be executed in 70 years in Georgia. You also know I've been involved in protesting this execution since February. The strongest memory I have is standing in the rain at the Jackson prison in March waiting for the news she had died, which never came. God did a miracle. But sometimes God's miracles are not what we ask for. I'm reminded of the story of Jesus raising Lazaru...

by Hafiz I know the voice of depression Still calls to you. I know those habits that can ruin your life Still send their invitations. But you are with the Friend now And look so much stronger. You can stay that way And even bloom! Keep squeezing drops of the Sun From your prayers and work and music And from your companions' beautiful laughter. Keep squeezing drops of the Sun From the sacred hands and glance of your Beloved And, my dear, From the most insignificant movements Of your own holy body. Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins That may buy you just a moment of pleasure, But then drag you for days Like a broken man Behind a farting camel. You are with the Friend now. Learn what actions of yours delight Him, What actions of yours bring freedom And Love. Whenever you say God's name, dear pilgrim, My ears wish my head was missing So they could finally kiss each other And applaud all your nourishing wisdom! O keep squeezing drops of t...

The sun is setting golden behind the trees and my balcony looks like heaven except 100 degrees. Summer is overstaying its welcome already. I miss the trees. Really seeing them. I miss wide open spaces and the nonurgency of long days moving through them. There's a lot to hold my attention here in the city. Plenty to rush off to, lots to catch up on, the sense that things are extremely important yet easily forgettable. Fleeting. The secret you never hear is that it can never be fully accomplished. This city life is a steady stream of go-here, do-this, be-better, make-more. A steady stream of appear-successful, don't-forget. A constant queue of attention grabbers and reasons to hurry. Constant, meaning, can't be stopped. Not by finishing one more task, or getting one more paycheck, or saying, "Let me fix this last problem"... life will rush on. The thing about a tree is that nothing happens quickly. Days and hours and storms and heat, sunlight and seasons c...

Sometimes God changes people through beauty. We see the mountains. We hear a symphony. The seasons change. A baby grows. Sometimes God changes people through dreams. Peter in Acts 10. Joseph in Matthew 1. Me, a few times. Sometimes God will use pain, or fear, or blessing, or time, or the sunshine or any number of hard and sweet things that happen in life. And sometimes God will use love. I prayed back in March that God would soften my heart. For a long time my heart has been hard toward almost everything except my independence. Hardened to changing my plans or letting my guard down, hardened to the work of God in my relationships, because I didn't want to be changed by anything. A softened heart means being malleable by the things around you. There's a great deal of pain that can be associated with that. "Pharaoh's heart was hard for too long. Soften mine." I met a boy 10 months ago. And by March I could tell it was going to either be the boy or my harde...