Knickknacks and Nothings

[thebridgechicago]

Your spiritual life will have highs and lows. That is just the way it is. The two most important thing to remember is those lows: 1) My feelings don’t change the fact that God loves me and my sins are forgiven. 2) it’s not always going to be this way.

Lee Younger on the SayThat Podcast (via thebridgechicago)

[hepburndeneuvekelly]

Audrey Hepburn during the filming of “The Unforgiven” in 1958 by Inge Morath.

[replanting]

@wabisabimish

[brockdehavenphoto]

[catsbeaversandducks]

By Shitty Watercolour 

[jenniecatherine]

Sticky Situation

This residue.

Ours was a thick, viscous ooze.

Long drip, a long trip, a big move. 

Long distance was drawn out. 

Sweet words were deep, 

Amber promises full of hope. 

Stirring feelings. Unspoken love.

The full vat had a crack and the pot let loose. 

Time crawled like molasses rolling down to a drip 

From a wooden spoon dipped 

In deep, dark, sticky fusion.

I waited. 

I dreamed of same-city living. 

Long-distance had finally turned short 

After years of patient pining. 

We worked, busy together. 

Bees hummed: rich, golden, amber. 

Yellow leaves fell, brown to the ground. 

Our own weather turned, changed. It shifted. 

An abrupt bump and then the pot tilted. 

Melted heart, intent towards inertia. 

But I’m forced. 

Gravity pulls in different directions.

I want to harden; but I the sap

Still, unpredicted, steady zag, 

The pleasure of our close proximity 

Simmers now to nauseate me on my path around this pottery.

Time, drags me along. Too slow. Too slow. 

I’m waiting again, not yet dreaming again.

Your residue staining, filling my head.

Dripping memories coalesce, an avalanche.

And I’m stuck, sick from the glaze.

Dazed. 

I can’t breathe because I am eager for you to leave 

Our shared space.

-

And I wonder how long my hands will feel sticky from the syrup once you’re finally gone.

*****

I wrote this piece many years ago when I was in a state of utter heartbreak & definite situational depression.

[jenniecatherine]

Whatever Day

Inspired by the affection and encouragement that can only come from a mother like mine, I completed an experiment of the “Whatever Day” where I invest my time, thoughts, energy, and activities only in that which creates a feeling or fits the criteria of the listings in Phil 4:8.

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.“

true: Unconcealed, true, true in fact, worthy of credit, truthful.

noble: Venerable, honorable, grave, serious, dignified. 

right: Equitable; by implication, innocent, holy.

pure: Properly, clean, i.e. innocent, modest, perfect.

lovely: Pleasing, acceptable, grateful; friendly towards.

admirable: Well reported of, spoken in a kindly spirit, laudable, reputable.

excellent: Goodness, a gracious act, virtue, uprightness. i.e. excellence.

praiseworthy: Commendation, praise, approval, laudation; concretely, a commendable thing.

Life has been changing constantly around me. I have felt helpless in an occupation where I’m meant to be helpful. 

It feels like I’m trapped in a performance where I’ve had no rehearsal. 

The stage is set as the hospital where I work. The players are my coworkers and I.  Over the past few years, I have become more familiar with the routine. We dance with difficult diagnoses, and sing melodies of rehabilitation, sometimes with minor chords of poor outcomes. Our costumes are scrubs of various colors. Monochrome. Stitched together with threads of guilt of not being able to do enough for our patients and their families. And some nights, yes, there is a long, sorrowful, dark number that ends in death. But mostly it’s a cheerful show, peppered with laughter and smart, well-timed choreography.

Recently, these routine performances have become increasingly nauseating. The backdrop is a community of tension and grief where equality has been whitewashed and people of color are painted much smaller. The stage lighting is greener and grayer than usual, colored with uncertainty as the corona-virus numbers increase. We side-step and twirl with forced smiles under new layers of masks and PPE. Our voices are muffled under N-95s and face shields as we try to tell our community that yes, they too need to wear masks so that we can stop this madness. Some hecklers in the audience shout out conspiracy snippets and nonsense while some of our patients and family and friends just fight for the right to exist. Our worst days have become worse & our best days are like a spotlight that seems to shine duller than it has in the past. The roof of the theater feels like it could come crashing down at any moment, and we would still be required to continue. Just add a helmet to the ridiculous protective ensemble.

I’ve needed a day to rest and reset. An intermission. With refreshments full of these ingredients above: truth, nobility, purity, excellence. I am sitting by the well and drinking up my portion greedily. I am present at the table and taking extra helpings if I can. 

I know I will return to the stage tomorrow. The curtain will rise and I will dance and sing again to the evidence-based tunes of my profession. I’ll need more intermissions if our performances must continue under these conditions.

But the show must go on. Such is healthcare during a global pandemic.

[whitepeopletwitter]

[whitepeopletwitter]

[humansofnewyork]

My guiding philosophy over the past ten years has been to ‘disappear’ as much as possible. Because I think the work is always strongest when it’s centered in other people’s voices. And that means HONY is at it’s best when I’m the most invisible. As a result, the name ‘Humans of New York’ is ten times more famous than the name ‘Brandon Stanton.’ I prefer it that way. It’s by design.  Even on Patreon, I generally prefer to keep my comments limited to the craft of creating HONY. Because I’ve always wanted the creation to outgrow the creator. I don’t want it to be weighed down by my opinions, or politics, or shortcomings. If I keep myself out of it, hopefully it can become bigger than me. And better than I am.         But we’ve reached a moment when it just seems tone deaf to speak about anything beyond our present circumstances. I haven’t watched the video because I don’t want to watch a man being murdered. Instead I’ve watched some videos of George Floyd when he was alive. I’ve read about his life. And coupled with the descriptions of his death, it’s been enough for me to understand and share in the heartbreak.  I think the power of George Floyd’s life and the reason his death has shaken so many millions, comes from its symbolism. He died with his hands cuffed behind his back. With a white officer’s knee on his neck. His death was the most brutal possible symbol of the oppression felt by so many black Americans at the hands of our justice system, our court system, and our prison system. By all accounts, he was admired and loved by the people who knew him. But in his death, he also became a symbol of injustice. And symbols grow so much bigger, and carry a message so much farther, than any individual is capable of doing. His murder unleashed feelings of powerlessness that can only be understood if you live in a community that doesn’t have the resources to navigate our justice system. Or the power to push back against its abuses. The rest of us can only imagine those feelings. And imagination doesn’t come close to lived experience. So I’ll end with an acknowledgment of the validity of the anger being felt. And a hope that our current upheaval will end with a more informed citizenry, a deeper understanding, and some sort of lasting change. I’d have loved to have interviewed George on the street. From the videos I’ve seen, and the stories I’ve read, I imagine he’d have chosen to tell me about his kids. Or his fiancée. Or his faith. Because he was more than a symbol. He was a person. And I’m sure that he’d have wanted to be remembered for his life much more than his death.

[aslowyear]

Art by Emily Graham

[jenniecatherine]

We’ve got the entirety of Scarborough Fair in our little house gardens.

It’s quite a lovely thing.

[thebridgechicago]

It can be a really tough thing when the script we have written for our life doesn’t work out.  But here is the thing to know: all of the strength I have in my walk with the Lord, all growth I have had in my walk, came from times when God completely changed the story I had written for myself in that situation and rebuilt something else from it.

Glen Fitzjerrell ( @unkaglen ) on the Say That podcast (via thebridgechicago)

This is life these days, amid this global pandemic. Disappointments and unmet expectations abound. 

For me, it is that our wedding did not go according to plan. My script didn’t work out. And honestly, it’s been messy sitting with the grief of what was supposed to happen AND the absolute joy that we are married. I find myself wavering between dissatisfaction and gratefulness, all the while wishing I could only feel joy and appreciation and none of that other icky stuff.

It is uncomfortable. 

I find myself measuring my feelings and mindset against the “shoulds” of a timeline that never happened.  Our wedding felt special in a lot of ways. We had made so many genuinely GOOD plans. Flowers were to be donated to nursing homes, compostable plates were going to “second-life” in the camp’s garden compost pile, our family was to gather the entire week before, crafting, serving, and enjoying one another while making it all so lovely... It feels childish to feel this way but the best summary I have is this bratty banner: It’s just NOT FAIR.

Dealing with not only the disappointment, but also having grace for my varied responses to the disappointment has been a non-linear process for my meta, perfectionist heart. Yeah. It’s a wild world up in this brain cage of mine. 

But this quote above is the perfect reminder I needed today. How grateful am I that this life is not all up to me.  

I’m praying for continued peace because the story I had written for myself was COMPLETELY changed. 

And I’m praying He would continue to cultivate joy, learning, and patience for what is being built within the “something else.” Here’s to messy, uncomfortable, worship-full growing, my friends. 

Photo cred: Carli Rene (www.inkedfingers.com)

*****

[yohohoandabottleofrum]

Visit Original Link

[thatkindofwoman]

Bob Dylan & Johnny Cash | Girl From The North Country

[a-joyfuljourney]

Amelia Markgraf

[theshinysquirrel]

[worshipgifs]

[banjosandbibles-deactivated2018]

“Don’t slide through life. Savor it. Slow down. Be kind. Pay attention. Because this isn’t going to happen again.” Carrie Fisher #nellinoel (at General Store)

[coeloa]

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