Monthly Archives: April 2008

My Poems

Posted on by

Jen F.’s post about the “Secret Handshake” of art (I love that phrase) has inspired me to be brave and throw out a couple of my poems to the world.

Honestly, it didn’t make me think of either of these, but the third poem I wrote in this class (the one I did think of) needs revising before I will bring it into the light– though now that I’m thinking of it again, it probably will.

I was forced to write four poems (of different styles/content) as a part of a creative-writing class I took while pregnant with Melody. I will not protest to anyone that I am a poet, but the images of these (and the third if I can revise it) worked in this format like they never would have in my normal language of story or essay.

One of them apparently did come out as an essay, despite my best intentions to meet the teacher’s expectation of a “Prose poem” (go figure), but these were more acceptable to him and I’ll preface them with my teacher’s comments.

No great reason for this other than it seems to legitimize them somehow.

~

From his response to my 47-page portfolio of the semester’s stronger work (he himself is a poet, so I hope it doesn’t minimize the prose too much that he liked the poems best):

Two of my favorite pieces in the collection happen to be the poems.

They stand up awfully well, I think, with “My First Love” quite nicely capturing spiritual joy— which typically leads to poems that are terribly corny.

Yours isn’t, and the genuine delight apparent in the language and imagery take us, whatever we believe, to a fine place.

“Thoughts While Cleaning…” is considerably more somber, of course, but the arrangement of details is quite smart, and the nature of those details brings us close to the horrors of what happened— even as the way those details are viewed is meant to find distance from those same horrors.

~

 

My First Love

I always thought of the quiet breeze
as God playing with my hair,
and the soft raindrops were his kisses.

I’d turn my face into the wind
and feel
my hair curl behind me.

The warm breath
fit my face
perfectly,
like a strapless dress
that magically stays on.

Then,
as the rain began to fall,
I’d turn my face up to taste it.
Gentle touches over my throat
and lips.

I would begin to dance–
in my young way–
spinning about and lifting
my arms to welcome the divine
caress.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Continue reading »

If you caught that last post in your feed-reader

Posted on by

I realized that (however unlikely) it is possible that the subject of that post may read about the project and miss the full-impact of it being a surprise. So I’ll just wait until after the day mentioned (don’t you love how vague I am?) to de-privatize it.

Curious yet?

Anyway, I’m still open to input if you saw the questions. Mainly:

  1. Is there a good way to avoid talking about myself (or keep from looking self-absorbed if I must)?
  2. Can you think of a good way to organize the speech?

That is, I’m inclined to tell it like a story or a blog-post, with one idea leading into the next. But I’m wondering if, since it is a stand-up presentation (5-minute speech) I need to follow a more conventional tell-em,tell-em, told-em format with discrete points.

~ ~ ~

And how do you like the new signature? It was a freebie from here, (HT Happy Home).

What My Mom Did Right

Posted on by

Great title, right?

I’ve been asked to craft a 5-minute speech to deliver at my mom’s church on Mother’s Day. I don’t know yet if I’m doing it, because I don’t know if I have 5-minutes worth of material.

That sounds bad, sorry.

There’s good reason for me to give this speech. There’s probably lots to say, but at this moment, before I’ve struck a structure, I do not have the differentiation to know how much of this is from her, how much is from the them (both my parents) and how much I’ve extrapolated and combined from all the observing and reading I’ve done in the last 15 years.

I’m so literal-minded those distinctions actually matter to me.

And, also, how can I talk about what my mom did right without, basically, elevating myself?

I’m only a good bearmaker if my bears turn out well, right?
How else should I express my mom did well, than that I turned out okay?

I feel like it would be easier to talk about what a good job, say, my Mother-in-Law did, removing me one degree from the discussion.

This also reduces by some percentage the chance I will become a blubbering mess in front of a congregation that’s only seen me once before (I’ve noticed crying is my stress-response).

I should e-mail my old ToastMasters club and find out if someone there can help me with the project.

In theory I like it a great deal. In practice… We’ll see.

The 1,001 Nights– a Tuesday Tale

Posted on by

This is my telling of the frame story of the Arabian Nights. It is lifted from my novel (you’d expect there to be storytelling in a storyteller’s novel, right?).
I’ve always loved this story, sometimes more than the other stories it brackets. So here you go.

This story tells of a king gone mad, suspecting all women of being evil.

As he desired the pleasures of marriage without its trials and demands, he married each evening and the next morning caused his bride to be executed.

He killed her, so he reasoned in his twisted mind, before she could destroy or betray him.

It was this tormented soul’s Grand Vizier who had the unhappy task of collecting a new bride each day, knowing he was sending her to her death. And this torture was made all the more painful as he had two beautiful daughters of his own. He felt his terror for them intensify with each morning’s execution.

~

First the daughters of the slaves were taken. When they were gone, the Grand Vizier was forced to collect next from the serving class, then the merchants.

The king’s madness did not abate. If things continued thus, no maiden would remain in the entire city. Families were attempting to flee the country in their efforts to protect their daughters.

Finally Scheherazade, the Vizier’s elder daughter, could stand it no longer.

She battered her father with words: an endless stream of reason from a woman whose mind was set before she had reasons.

Scheherazade wore him down, and with a breaking heart he presented her to his lord and master.

That the vizier would offer his own daughter brought the king enough out of his self-centered madness that the girl was able to attempt her desperate plan.

Scheherazade begged leave to have her young sister spend the night.

Shortly before dawn, as they had arranged between them, the younger sister woke the new queen to ask for a last story in the presence of the great King, her husband.

The elder daughter began a story that twisted and tangled in and out with so many others that the king spared her life that day, then the next, and the next; always promising to execute her the next morning, when the story was finished.

But of course it never was—or when it was, another story just as tantalizing was left at a critical moment that would again allow the young queen a day of amnesty.

Thus the words of a woman held off her master’s madness and her own death for one-thousand-and-one nights, and in the end, they were both free.

Yuck!

Posted on by

I spilled some 409 refilling a bottle and mopped the spill with a towel under my stocking foot.

Five minutes later I could swear I had the taste in my mouth.

I get the how and all, but it’s still kinda creepy.

My Latest Challenge

Posted on by

Yes, my silence since the last post means that I’ve been working on my novel.

I’ve had limited writing-hours and have been focusing on what I’ve thought most-important at the time (meeting the kids last week helped with that).

As much as my dropping stats pull at me, I don’t want to feel obligated to post just to post, so I won’t pretend this blog is *important* to anybody but me.

Speaking of personal stuff, now that it’s past I can tell about my latest “trial and tribulation:”

I twisted my ankle severely on the 18th of March.

I know the date because I had 3 hours of errands to run with my kids that morning, and one of them was to pick up Enchanted on its DVD release date.

Well, we did the three hours of errands and got the movie— all after I jumped off the porch and landed my full weight on the side of my foot— but I must have been building up pain for when I got home.

I got the kids down for nap though I was hobbling by that point.

Afterwards I was under ice with my foot up for the rest of the night, but I don’t think it stopped hurting before 10 or 11.

It was interesting to watch the coping mechanisms pile up.

  • Jay came home early from work and went in late for several days.
  • I learned to quit caring about what the house looked like.
  • We saw Enchanted three. times. before it went back. It was a one-day rental.
  • I bought a higher percentage of fast food while Jay was gone on his (5-day!) snow machining trip.

Continue reading »

Met My Audience Today

Posted on by

I had the delight this evening of talking with a handful of Magic-playing “nerds” at the library.

Actually they started the Nerd v. Geek discussion a couple times, but ultimately said it was fine to call them nerds.

They were at the next table while I waited for other SCBWI members who never arrived. When a chair opened up I impulsively grabbed my character-list and (after verifying they were fantasy-readers) asked their opinion on the readability (and confusablity) of the names.

I got some useful feedback, and from the list began telling a corner of the story.

They were hooked, and I can’t say how exciting it was for me as a storyteller to have them hanging on and asking intelligent, clarifying questions.

One boy in particular was tracking very closely and made a couple connections on his own, which assured me of the story’s internal (fantasy) logic.

Jay said I should take the first few chapters back next week for them to read, and I think I will. The idea of instant feedback from my target-audience is very attractive.

Yes, they said they’d like to read it.

I’m currently trying to decide if there are any drawbacks.

Not Just Staying Home (Part 2 of 2)

Posted on by

Sometimes I think that if I didn’t have other things (reading, writing, storytelling, music, teaching) in addition to keeping my home I probably wouldn’t enjoy “staying home,” but it’s only partially true.

My best analogy just now is to electricity. I’ve proven I can live contentedly without it, with the right attitude, but life is (forgive me) so much easier to enjoy with than without, I see no compelling reason to stretch myself that way.

Thankfully, God hasn’t asked me to do without these things I enjoy, and He’s shown me their place in my life just now: mixed with my children or spread thinly around the edges.

He’s also given me a “vision” (as it were) of their possibilities in the years to come.

This is where reminders such as that late chapter in Home by Choice are encouraging to me; they show my now-locked (think: land-locked) mind the possibilities once I reach the “coast” of empty-nesting.

I can touch and look at water in lakes, pools and streams now, but my current job doesn’t allow me to live by the ocean. I remind myself to be content in the wait because I know this job will eventually be over, whether I want it to be or not.

Hearing stories about women who fulfilled their second callings second helps me remain patient and content. I am such a *now* person I need the now stories of others to assure me I can wait for the train to arrive.

~

This doesn’t mean I am just hanging on until my kids are grown. It means that I have the same double vision in my home life as I have in my spiritual life.

All of we who are waiting for an eternal and infinitely better kingdom are only doing a good job if we are also doing everything in our power to equip ourselves and our children to live well in this one.

As a mother I am aware both of my present time with my children, and that it is not an end in itself.

Continue reading »

Not Just Staying Home (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on by

A recent conversation— sparked by my recommendation of this book— has made me think about a paradox I feel in my life. (I wonder how many women share this feeling/awareness…):

I am a huge cheerleader for moms staying at home to care for their families (and I unreservedly think it’s God’s “best plan,” along with two-parent families and living debt-free), but I don’t think it’s the be-all, end-all of my life.

And I don’t think this contradicts scripture.

For one thing, my life doesn’t end when they leave, and that, combined with the fact that God continually grows us, leads me to the conclusion he’s got plans for me beyond my time home with them.

I think they are the most important assignment I will ever have, but they are just one part of my life, not the whole thing.

This is what makes me think my desire to write is more than a distraction. I believe it is a part of me, useful in my parenting journey, that will not be fully explored until my first assignment is fulfilled.

But this awareness of– what can I call it?– a life beyond (within?) my role as a home-keeper, left me feeling hobbled in an uncomfortable conversation I recently got caught in.

I was subjected to… not outright derision at me and my career choice, but snarky jabs at women who do what it looks like I do.

For the first time in my life I think I understand what wounded feminists are trying to label “The Patriarchy,” and the bruises inflicted by subtle racism.

I am fairly sure this was not meant to be mean in a conscious way. It was a mouth speaking out of the overflow of his heart.

Apparently I have lived an *amazingly* sheltered 28+ years.

Among other things, I heard that overused refrain about women who are lost once their children are gone and *need* someone to nurture but there’s no one left.

Continue reading »

A Balanced Approach to “Modesty”

Posted on by

Terry at Ornaments of Grace has a nice post about considering our clothing choices, but not in a leagalistic manner.

I laughed out-loud and knew I had to link when I read this:

I AM NOT giving up my jeans without a direct revelation from the Lord.

For the record, my standards might be even “looser” than hers, as I don’t feel a need to wear longer shirts or other clothes that conceal my figure (such as it is). She suggests tunic-length tops as a compromise for pants-wearing folks.

Me, I’m heavily influenced by a memory of my parents (one quoting the other) saying they liked it when a woman looked like a woman. And they weren’t talking about wearing dresses all the time.

I can only echo what I know every balanced person has concluded on this topic: it is about what people see and what you project, but it’s also about what’s in your heart.