POEMS PEOPLE, POEMS!

So today I went to Chapters and bought the most lovely of all lovely books. It's called Good Poems for Hard Times Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor. I'm only on page 34 and I'm calling it the best purchase of the year. This is one of those books that I would want my future husband to read to me in the morning at breakfast, or that I would read my children before bed. This is one of those books that I would want to read after gardening and having dirt all over my hands and knees and sitting on the kitchen floor with a large glass of cold sweet tea as the late afternoon sun shines through the window onto me. This is one of those books.

Poems people, poems!

Poems to me are each their own 50 different stories into a simple, little page of letters. You initially read it, and get the basic gist of what the author is trying to tell you. A happy little moral or something to think about. If you wanted, you could stop there and still live a beautiful life. But a good poem will have just one line, or maybe even one word that throws you off. So you re-read it. What does the author mean by all this? Then suddenly, the entire thing opens up to you and you realize that that initial, happy little moral is so much more and every, single word that was constructed on the page is for a purpose: To reveal something to you about your own life, to help you get through difficulty or to celebrate joy with you. And there are so many more things to learn.

Every single word on that page has a purpose.

And the way I see it, every person is a poem.

There's the initial reading. The happy little character, in a happy little world. And you could stop there, shake them by the hand and go on your way living your beautiful life. But then there's something that throws you off. That one thing they said, that one thing that they did. And so you "re-read" them. You look deeper, you ask them questions. What does The Author mean by all this? And you realize that the initial happy little character is so much deeper and complex. Every single one of their experiences was constructed on their page of life for a purpose: To reveal something to you about your own life, to help you get through difficulty or to celebrate joy with you. And there are so many more things to learn.

Every single person has a purpose.

The only difference between a person and a poem is that you can be a part of the person. You can be one of the words on their page. You can be part of the purpose. You can take them by the hand and re-read their own poem to them. You can help them find their purpose. And they can have the same impact on you.

And that is perhaps the most intriguing, most mysterious thing to me in the entire world.

Poems, people, poems.

Unemployed... Still

After many job applications and weeks of waiting by my phone, I have gotten really good at being unemployed.

Like really good.

Usually I wake up at around 10 and stumble to the kitchen to eat last night's leftover dinner, or some good 'ol PB and J.

Then it's social media time. Facebook, Twitter, Yahoo, Pinterest, Tumblr, repeat.
It's a science really.

I've also gotten considerably good at Tetris Battle.

I started my unemployment journey at a meager  level 30, now I am level 46 (and climbing).

Yes, I am really cool, thanks for asking.

Also, Doctor Who.

Let me tell ya, best Sci-Fi show ever. Ever ever. Like ever. We are never ever ever getting back together ever. Wait, what? T-Swift, what are you doing here?

Also, I think I lost my mind.

I forgot two passwords yesterday and had to get them changed.

Most days, I go for a walk downtown with resumes in hand. Most walks take about an hour.
I'm slightly tanned because of it.

AND POEMS!

People! Poems are so delightful!

Here are a few of my favorite:

I Chose the Mountain by Howard Simon
A Psalm of Life by Henery Wadsworth Longfellow
Forgetfulness by Billy Collins
Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley
A Child said, What is the Grass by Walt Whitman
Abou Ben Adhem by James Henry Leigh Hunt


I found all these poems and many more on the Top 500 Poems List.

Google it.

It's magical.

Also, BOOKS! I read The Silence of Bonadventure Arrow last night.

One sitting. (Well, two because I feel asleep in the middle of it)

It was pretty fun.

I have also read several other novels these past weeks. I love libraries.

So now I've convinced you all that I am a looney girl who has lost her memory, that watches Doctor Who all day, plays Tetris and reads too much. Perfect.

And that is the current state of my unemployed life.

Olivia

I was sitting across from little Olivia. She was scared. But not of lions, tigers and bears-oh my! but of Hell. But of dying and going to Hell. And what was I to do? I had already told her that Jesus saves. That God loves her so much that He sent Jesus to die to save her from separation from Him, and if she believed in Him and told Him that she was sorry for her sins and followed Him she could be saved. But still, every night- fear. She didn't want to be a Christian. Her reason- "I don't think my parents would like that." "Maybe God wants to use you to tell your family about Him, about how much He loves them," I said. Still, "I don't think my Mom would like that."

I looked into those fearful eyes and she was crying. What else are you suppose to say to that little heart? One that is so scared of Hell, but so scared of losing her family's love?
I'm sure I could have said a thousand things then. Evangelists every where probably cringed when I said, "Let's go brush our teeth."  The conflict was left unresolved.

But we can only plant seeds. It is God that makes them grow.

And sometimes I feel like Olivia, like I know what God wants me to do, but I'm scared. I'm scared of what everyone will think if I do it.
And how God's heart must break when we do that to ourselves.

And one day, maybe I'll hear about little Olivia. About how she loves God with all of her everything and how her family loves Him too.
Maybe one day she won't be scared. And that will be a happy day.
And one day, maybe I'll stop caring what everyone will think if I just do what I know God wants me to do.
Maybe one day I won't be scared. And that will be a happy day.
And how God's heart must rejoice when we turn and follow Him.

Luke 15:4-7 "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn't he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbours together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nice righteous persons who do not need to repent."

The First Post

And so it begins. The summer time. Sweet, sweet summer time. Yes ladies and gentlemen, we have finally arrived. It is safe to remove your seat belts and step out of the vehicle.

I have survived my first year of university.

And if I have learned one thing it is that there are no such things as mistakes. 

Except on tests. Then the mistakes are quite apparent. 

There are no such things as mistakes in life. And if there is such a thing as a mistake it is the most beautiful thing to make. Mistakes teach us what perfection cannot. Perfection is comfortable. When we are comfortable we use what we have and do something nice and cute and lovely and good and we pat ourselves on the back and that is all. But a mistake, a beautiful mess up, that is where extraordinary happens. We are tossed into a situation when we no longer have the resources, the time, the energy, the brains, the fight, and we crumple. Let's face it. When put in that kind of situation when even our own fight, our own tenacity is no longer a resource, there is not anything else to do but to crumple.

But then this really cool thing happens guys, and it's called doing something you've never done before. You get up from your crumpled little mess and take in as much of that lovely oxygen as you can in one large breath and go out and do that impossible task, and you talk to that impossible person, and all of a sudden you're doing these really cool things that you've never even known to be possible and life just gets easier. And the best part of it all is, is that it was impossible, and it still is impossible, and you're not doing it. You're not doing it because it is impossible. It was God that got you up from your crumpled little mess, and God that filled your lungs with that glorious oxygen and God using you to do that impossible task and to talk to that impossible person. And possibly the best part of making mistakes is that it is humbling. And whatever worthiness I thought myself to have for making the decision to wind me up in Mistake-Ville is lost.

And I am left staring up at the One who let me experience the impossible.