Hello, everyone. Today I sought him. Today I found.
Also, right now I have split the last of the pumpkin cake (leftover masterpiece of a certain Chef Clarke) and am drinking a homemade london fog / earl grey tea misto. I am happy. Today it was beautiful out too, even though my winter boots got soaked through and the neighbour’s dog kept barking at me through the fence. Maybe he just wanted to get out.
PS. Instead of adding milk and honey or sugar to your tea, add a scoop of vanilla frozen yogurt. If you put the scoop in before the tea (assuming the tea’s being steeped in a kettle) and pour in the tea after, it’ll make some lovely foam too. And then you can even sprinkle cinnamon on top. The first time I tried this, I heard the hallelujah chorus play in my head. For reals.
listening to: cat power & dirty delta blues – amazing grace feeling: restless. regretful.
My dear friend Liz posted something on her blog the other day that hit me hard. “When was the last time I sought God?” she said. Well, shit, I don’t know, a long time ago? When was the last time I gave him a spot in my timetable, came to him clean with open arms, sang him a song, wrote him a poem? When was the last time I searched for him until it hurt, looking every which way, like the hunt for a good photo – searching and stretching to reach prime position, with creaking joints and complaining muscles, soaked-through shoes and frozen clumsy fingers? How much does Jesus mean to me? Because this is not something I can just write about. This is something I have to live about. It seems I have much to learn about unconditional love. We call it the divine romance, I talk about him like a best friend and lover, and then I twist the wedding ring off and make it into a key chain.
Time and time again, I forget how beautiful and compelling and deserving this bleeding Saviour is. God, wreck me until I bleed, until I pour perfume over your feet and can’t see past the tears.
listening to: woodpidgeon – our love is as tall as the calgary tower feeling: sleepy
You – you are a chinook, unexpected and warm under the surface of my skin. You are the revelation of solid pavement under my shoes, the antidote to this winter amnesia, and you smell like the foreshadowing of spring, like a new start. You roll in from the mountains; you wrestle my hair out of place and unsettle me, comfort me and uncurl my frame, remind me that winter is not all there is.
listening to: ambulance ltd – stay where you are feeling: calm
Today, praying felt like pushing bricks across the concrete, like it took every muscle and every inch of progress was resisting and scraping back in defiance. He felt distant and foggy, like a memory just out of reach, just beyond my fingertips. Sometimes, it’s the easiest thing in the world, it’s like breathing, and sometimes it’s like this. So instead of trying to talk to God, I sat and listened and let the silence be. I didn’t hear any definite words, but I felt better. He is still there.
listening to: iron & wine – passing afternoon feeling: saddened
I just went to, and played piano at, a wedding a few days ago. There were a lot of people, the bride was beautiful, and the glimpses of a lasting love were enough to lay a finger lightly on any heart. Now look at Haiti. The day I heard about it, I went home and internet surfed away any time to think about it or feel about it. But I realize that was wrong and selfish, and with a faith that professes love, we cannot afford procrastination. Those people are human just as we are, they bleed the same red, they feel the same endless whys. So let’s take courage and let our hearts break, let’s give a damn and do something more than save a spot in our heads for sympathy. Yes, keep them in your hearts and your prayers. But as the African proverb goes, “as you pray, rise to your feet.” You can give to the Salvation Army via texting (for Rogers and Bell). You can also donate online to said Salvation Army, or World Vision. Tomorrow I’m going to give, not sure the amount yet, but I want it to be something that means something and that tears some sinews of hold-on-might-need-that-sometime. Love, as they say, is a verb. Godspeed.
UPDATE: Texting donations now work with Telus too! You can also sign the ONE petition to ask the IMF and others to cancel Haitian debt.
listening to: this song feeling: in shock Sometimes a song, even one you know, happens upon you, and paralyzes you. This just happened to me. I still can barely breathe.
Today, I accidentally set my alarm for PM, abandoned my bowl of cereal and ran for the bus so I wouldn’t be late for my first day of classes back at university. I didn’t have breakfast, and the granola bar I dug out tasted vaguely like sawdust. But after class, I saw a cute boy wearing toms, a girl with a leonard cohen bag slung over her shoulder, and an old man wearing purple diva sunglasses. I missed the bus by three minutes, so I went to the Tim Horton’s by the train station and got the french onion soup to go (there is a blasphemously amazing amount of mozerella cheese in it, an ordeal while drinking it, but so very worth it). I received a moleskine notebook (yes, the kind Picasso used!) for all my future scribbles as well as a wonderful note from a dear friend. My love for the universe has been rekindled. Details, it’s all in the details. My orange pekoe tea is now cold, but my heart is warm. Oh, and it is glorious outside.
Hello, everyone. Today I sought him. Today I found.
