"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.
In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?
And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.
And you know the place where I am going...
I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.
In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live you also will live.
On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me and I in you...
I have said these things to you while I am still with you
But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all I have said to you.
Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid...
Of The Best Stuff, but Cracked
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Oh Happy Day
Two years ago, after coming home from a champagne birthday celebration with two of my dearest friends, I opened my email, slighly tipsy and feeling warm and loved, to an email from a mysterious gentleman who said:
"I pulled your e-mail address off a comment that you left on the Quaker Ranter – hope
you don't mind! (I'm not a stalker, just a resourceful former journalist.)"
And then said a whole bunch of funny, balanced, and perceptive stuff about plain dress. And then emailed me nearly a hundred more funny, balanced, and perceptive notes. He lived in MA, and I was cosily tucked into NY. And then he came to NYC to fall headfirst into a caravan of my silliness, survived my attempts not to kiss him (I was DONE. WITH. BOYS.) and had me head over heels in love with him before he had to get on the next chinatown bus home. We took pictures, I cried, he got on the bus. And we emailed more. We talked on the phone late into the night, and often ended with periods of silent worship, faint rustling and powerful feeling coming over the line as we each sat and pressed our cell-phones to the sides of our bent heads.
Then a job came and I moved to Cambridge to be with him and to seek my fortune and my degree. In the past two years he has seen me through a tedious and wrenching legal process, a nervous breakdown, and countless tantrums and crises of faith (often the two are conflated.) He has prayed with me and joked with me and comforted me and challenged me. We have travelled together and watched bad 80s TV together. He has lent me his Pug and his unique point of view. We have brewed beer, drunk beer, and read about how to make better beer. He makes the most ridiculous silly noises and the most annoying silly characters. He is tolerant when I forget everything and remembers everything I forget. Also, he is adorable.
He's the best, and he loves me.
He was the best birthday present ever. I love you Jeff!
"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor.
For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe unto him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up."
--Ecclesiastes 4:9-10.
PS: I wrote this post two days ago and tried to post-date it for Dec. 15th, my birthday, but it didn't work. grr.
"I pulled your e-mail address off a comment that you left on the Quaker Ranter – hope
you don't mind! (I'm not a stalker, just a resourceful former journalist.)"
And then said a whole bunch of funny, balanced, and perceptive stuff about plain dress. And then emailed me nearly a hundred more funny, balanced, and perceptive notes. He lived in MA, and I was cosily tucked into NY. And then he came to NYC to fall headfirst into a caravan of my silliness, survived my attempts not to kiss him (I was DONE. WITH. BOYS.) and had me head over heels in love with him before he had to get on the next chinatown bus home. We took pictures, I cried, he got on the bus. And we emailed more. We talked on the phone late into the night, and often ended with periods of silent worship, faint rustling and powerful feeling coming over the line as we each sat and pressed our cell-phones to the sides of our bent heads.
Then a job came and I moved to Cambridge to be with him and to seek my fortune and my degree. In the past two years he has seen me through a tedious and wrenching legal process, a nervous breakdown, and countless tantrums and crises of faith (often the two are conflated.) He has prayed with me and joked with me and comforted me and challenged me. We have travelled together and watched bad 80s TV together. He has lent me his Pug and his unique point of view. We have brewed beer, drunk beer, and read about how to make better beer. He makes the most ridiculous silly noises and the most annoying silly characters. He is tolerant when I forget everything and remembers everything I forget. Also, he is adorable.
He's the best, and he loves me.
He was the best birthday present ever. I love you Jeff!
"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor.
For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe unto him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up."
--Ecclesiastes 4:9-10.
PS: I wrote this post two days ago and tried to post-date it for Dec. 15th, my birthday, but it didn't work. grr.
Monday, December 11, 2006
I do believe
the most of me
floats under water.
And men see
above the wave,
a jagged, small
mountain of ice
and that is all.
Only the depths
of other peaks -
may know my substance
when it speaks
and steadfast
through the grinding jam
remain aware of what I am.
Myself I think
shall never know -
how far beneath the wave I go.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
the most of me
floats under water.
And men see
above the wave,
a jagged, small
mountain of ice
and that is all.
Only the depths
of other peaks -
may know my substance
when it speaks
and steadfast
through the grinding jam
remain aware of what I am.
Myself I think
shall never know -
how far beneath the wave I go.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Winter Trees
All the complicated details
of the attiring and
the disattiring are completed!
A liquid moon
moves gently among
the long branches.
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.
~William Carlos Williams
of the attiring and
the disattiring are completed!
A liquid moon
moves gently among
the long branches.
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.
~William Carlos Williams
Belated Bloggiversary to me!
I have posts brewing, but in the meantime I just wanted to say Holy Cow! Two years!
And I am still kind of here. :)
And I am still kind of here. :)
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