'storybird,' truth or fiction

the tension
one foot on, one foot out
the trail of the divine traveler
the calling...shouting
'water from rocks'
'bring water from rocks'

and more and more the world buzzes
'there is not just one true way, only one god. there are many.'
'we're not so different.'
'the bible is a parable.' 'your dogmatic truth is a wedge, a sword.'
'Stop it. Settle down.'
'no fighting! it's not cool. not nice.'
'can't we all just get along?'
'war is bad. there's no such thing as a good, holy war.'

i hear you. i know. jz didn't like it much. neither does gg...the ultimate god talk. it's an irritant. but we can't have it both ways. we can't just pick at the bones of the thanksgiving bible-bird and take the truth we like and leave the other parts. sooner or later the rot and stink of truth we're not willing to consume will make us leave the premises. we'll remove ourselves from the bible-bird and quite picking at anything. ...and then there will be nothing to hold or eat. just the mirage of our own imaginings.

no, it's either all true or it's not true.
and then the buzz...'they're just some made up inspirational stories.'
and maybe that's good enough for you. but you can't come to the table and truly partake unless you're willing to eat the whole thing.
And there are definitely some bones in there.

so in the face of my worries and wonders today, i sit, waiting to see his hand of tricks & treasures enter my story and scribble love notes, finish the stories that are in the middle, tie up the loose ends of my fits and starts. i watch. i'm listening for the one true thing...the one and only rock to break open and water to pour out from the dry places.

thank you sara groves for your beautiful music this morning. i can sit in these questions, hold them close, rock, get up and complete my tasks and watch as the map unfold showing me places i'm destined to discover. and it's okay, uh hum. alright.

God Calling, Oct. 30th - The last hardest lesson is that of waiting, so wait.
...But the Friend with whom you stand by the grave of failure, of dead ambitions, of relinquished desires, that Friends is a Friend for all time.

yellow bird living on a yellow day

Can you hear me breathing, little bird?
Can you feel my wings flutter,
brush up against the wire cage?
My heartbeats rapidly.
I flutter.
My eyes dart.
I am a caged yellow bird.
So quick, so ready.
The possibilities make my pulse race,
and I sing,
a silent song.

where the wild things are

scars. i wear them holding my head up, my heart forward
they are places that i have been wounded in life's battles
jobs, relationships, church, holy war causes
carrying fragile, barely born treasures for the king's pleasure
that were snatched, torn, stolen from my hands too soon

we are a hearty group
always the mission
always to mean well and do good
but sometimes when the cold hits, the stomach hungers
the heart burns
the monsters rear their heads
the giants in the land come out and show their hairy teeth
we see where the wild things are and learn their names

then we quake
run for cover
and we blame
we shame...one another, ourselves
and ugly roams
and we bite one another
and thus the wounds
the holy well-intentioned weapons released airborne

but sister, friend, brother, co-warrior
after...when it's done
they heal over and become marks
beautiful reminders of our courage, our resilience
our appointed battles in strange places
weapons become plowshares
love, humility, patience, kindness in the face of wrongness
we are holy tattooed with this love story
embedded in our flesh
we choose h i m, not ourselves
let it be about h i m, not me
a dervish dance on earth, an at-peaceful-rest in sky

the flying bear

i do stuff. i sit. i wait. i watch. i invest. silent. non speaking, cause my blaa blaa could go on forever.

my marriage fell to pieces over eight years ago. the 20th anniversary trip to paradise i planned, as a last gasp to resuscitate some love, didn't work. he was vacant. had left the building. three more years we pulled the dead weight behind us. i asked god to make it live. i hated myself for not morphing into some bright, beautiful, irresistible thing. a thing one could live for, die for. but in the end it was just as dead.

and then my job/career fell to pieces. my dad died. my mom died right in front of me. my daughters left for school, for life. now it's just me and my son. my pal. my house with a scary monthly mortgage.

last night i video taped a community event. i went alone. i smiled. i pointed the camera and shot the pumpkins and the laughing friends. i wanted to hang out but there was no one i really knew. and i went home alone. and its dark here. it get so damn dark, so early and stays dark. and when you try to rise early and greet the day, it's dark too. i feel like a growling bear. she steps out of her cave in search of light, warmth, ease, but it's just the same old damp, dark coldness as yesterday.

my friend matt had something good happen. he's headed to china and they're paying him to do what he does and they appreciate him. well good for him.

and the bear? she growled. she shivered. she's waiting for the thing, the full-mouthed life thing. the music, the drums...the timber and tilt her joints will recognize. that ancient song she was born to dance. and move she will, shimmy & shake. once again the bear will come to life with superpowers to leap. yes, the sky will embrace her. the bear will fly. because...it's his solemn oath to the bears he loves. and so she waits and sometimes growls into the cold night.

the sky climber

she was a sailboat on a calm peaceful lake. consistent. beautiful to watch. stable. always kind. listening. that was my aunt dorie. 'coopie,' my dad called her. she looked like a hollywood starlet, but she grew to be much more substantial in nature and character. she didn't criticize, not her nieces or nephews, ever. she smiled. she valued. she lived with her soul-mate Blair and showed us the beauty in how to 'love as you are.' she became best friends with her sister-in-law, my mother. and she blew a shofar around the neighborhood. shocking. radical. she visited women in prison, supported the town's ministerial society in the national day of prayer. she prayed thru the phone book. she was a woman with a mission to have everyone meet the god she grew to love. the god who met her even when she had to live w/ acute pain, (an unexpected car accident.) she was kingdom royalty. she led a beautiful life. i was blessed to call her aunt and friend. she climbed the sky last week.

jacked up tourist

i prayed for an opportunity to travel and while i waited for some 'god holy door' to open i booked a tourist trip. i went to egypt.

it was fantastical. it messed with my spirit good. what of this planet? what of this history that began 4000 B.C. what of me in this history? what is my part, my place, my duty, my finest calling?
who are we? where do we fix our hearts, nurture our hopes? "you there," oh sloth, "i shake and awaken you."


a teacher trying to save her students in the Samoan tsunami thought she was going to die when she & her students were pinned in a truck underwater and prayed, "I'm ready to go if it's my time." she took a deep breath, thinking it was her last, and her body popped up to the surface and her lungs filled w/ air.

is it our time, these days? is it mine? is it yours? this day, this hour...have i left a cartouche etched with a story, a truth?

i realized on my travels through egypt i'm no tourist. that's not near good enough. i'm a pilgrim on a 'jjerrrrney' (journey) as Sally our Egyptologist said so appropriately & repeatedly. it's the drama. it's the goodness. it's the holy walk on any land, to run our eyes over their personal history, their faces, their common book of days. it's a joy. it's a privilege.

so go. don't live in fear hoarding your life away. get out. dip. drool. smile. love. sweat. taste. this life is a gift to be lived and experienced wide eyed, full mouthed. "yes."

"Come!" say the Spirit and the Bride.
Whoever hears, echo, "Come!"
Is anyone thirsty? Come!
All who will, come and drink,
Drink freely of the Water of Life! Rev. 22:17

yellow faith

things have gotten busy. finishing up videos, shooting footage for the city, packing for egypt, answering emails from guys on dating sites, skyping emmy in honduras, managing a fundraiser for a local dance company, throwing darts at Facebook friends. its a magnificent day here in the chicago burbs. the wine festival is going on. going to meet my friend e for some vino.

i'm thinking we're fragmented, our attention is cut into bit-sized pieces, our brains are a sheet of shattered glass, our hearts are catching shards of fractured light. to achieve deep thoughts, deep prayers we must force a stillness, demand a quiet focus. call ourselves out of the masses and into the miniature spaces. "you are there. you are the only one. you're the same. it's the age that's pressing against our beliefs, hoping to squeeze you out. dilute your holy cup. quench your pure fire. but nothing, not anything can tear us apart. no!"

i don't know about you but i have not come this far to lay down in some field of poppies and go to sleep. no matter how orange. no matter how cute the black centers w/ yellow spots are. counter culture, damn right. "pretty boy, you will not seduce me." she said to the fallen angel