Monday, April 14, 2008

Saturday, January 19, 2008

My love will never be enough

I was driving back to my apartment the other night and for some reason there was this phrase repeating in my mind.

"My love will never be enough."

It overwhelmed me.

I am desperate for what little love I have to be enough to provide the needs for everyone surrounding me. I see hurt everywhere and I feel it. I can't help it.

I see the awkward teen in school so very much trying to fit in and failing, and I wish my love for him alone was enough. I see the single mother, with nothing of her own, lose most of her dignity. I see the twenty-something struggling to make it on her own and failing in so many ways. I see the scared patient waiting to hear the doctor say whether or not it is cancer. I see the lonely divorcee. I see the middle-aged person so full of regret, yet unwilling to change.

I want so badly for the love I have for them to be enough for them to feel, to set them on a new path, but it just isn't.

I see dead-end jobs, dreams crashing to the ground. I see pain. I see betrayal. I see fear. I see depression. I see loneliness. I see disappointment. I see significant loss. I see self-hatred. I see bitterness.

I see a broken world... and I feel it.

There is not a single friend or family member of mine that my heart does not break for regularly.

And it overwhelms me.

It's too much hurt and my love will never be enough.

My love will never be enough.

So, as David cried out to God in his distress and for healing, I also cried out to God for them in my car.

I don't know why I feel so much sometimes. It seems pointless. My caring about it, feeling it, loving them, isn't going to change the situation.

I find myself in the place where all I can do is cry out on behalf of them. My tears falling for their pain.

Petitioning God with my reflective feelings of their hurt.

Asking for help when they won't.

Pleading for the one whose love is enough to take hold of them, to take hold of you.

And He will, because even though my love will never be enough, if you let it, His already is.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007


When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

So if you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

This song has frequently found it's way to my mind since I watched White Christmas earlier this season. It's a rather simple song, but something about it (probably enhanced by Bing Crosby's voice) resonates within me. All too often in our culture, and especially at this time of year, we get wrapped up in what we don't have and the pressures surrounding us. And sometimes those pressures are really big, hard to deal with, life altering things... but I wonder if instead of focusing so thoroughly on the tough things in our lives, if we took time regularly to think about the ways we feel loved and the ways we are blessed, what changes that might cause. When I am told that I've been a blessing, it matters. It affects me. I might shrug and say, "no worries," but I'm glad and it affects my mood. When I see people around me dealing with serious stuff yet finding things to be joyful about, it makes me recognize the blessings surrounding me. That's how I want to be. That's what I want to be to you. Counting blessings can be a catalyst for change.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Not all is for naught

Here are some things I am thankful for in relation to getting stuck in extremely snowy highway traffic for about five hours after work:

  • It wasn't six hours
  • Of the dozens of broken down/abandoned/stuck cars and jack-knifed trucks I saw, none seemed to be serious accidents
  • My car wasn't among them... I love my little Hyundai.
  • The two electricians late to work at the train station who chatted with me for a portion of the non-journey while they were stuck in their truck next to me.
  • The opportunity to stick my head out the window and just let the snow fall on my face, letting the beauty of it sink in.
  • The many friends commiserating with me via text messaging.
  • Daryl going through the same thing a mile ahead of me... It made me feel less alone.
  • Sufjan Steven's Songs for Christmas... relaxing music is key.
  • That I didn't die when in the middle of Rt 4 my windshield wipers got icy and stuck.
  • That I didn't die when I had to pull to the side to fix them.
  • That my dad encouraged me to learn to hold my bladder during family vacations... also key.
  • That my heat works... almost too well.
  • Daryl called me with advice for a faster escape... (I still love you for this).
  • I learned of the joy that can be found in 10mph.
  • That I made it up an unplowed on-ramp for 195.
  • Ryan Bankas came to shovel out my parking spot for me.
  • Jillian offered to brew some tea for me.
  • I made it to Corey's birthday celebration in Fort Minor.
  • Neck warming pillows and relaxing massages.
  • Irish Hot Chocolate

What I'd really like to know though, is where in the world were all the snow plows when they were needed?

Monday, August 27, 2007

Hear me


When the sun rises
it illuminates stupidity and guilt
which are hidden in the nooks of memory
and invisible at noon.

Here walks a many-tiered man.
On his upper floors a morning crispness
and underneath, dark chambers
which are frightening to enter.

He asks forgiveness
from the spirits of the absent ones
who twitter far below
at the tables of buried cafes.

What does that man do?
He is frightened of a verdict,
now, for instance,
or after his death.


Hear me, Lord, for I am a sinner, which means I have nothing except prayer.

Protect me from the day of dryness and impotence.

When neither a swallow's flight nor peonies, daffodils and irises in the flower market are a sign of Your glory.

When I will be surrounded by scoffers and unable, against their arguments, to remember any miracle of Yours.

When I will seem to myself an impostor and swindler because I take part in religious rites.

When I will accuse You of establishing the universal law of death.

When I am ready at last to bow down to nothingness and call life on earth a devil's vaudeville.

~Czeslaw Milosz

Wednesday, August 01, 2007


To tell the truth, I don't understand anything. There is only our

ecstatic dance, a diminutive part of a great totality.

They are born and die; the dance doesn't stop. I cover my eyes,
as if to protect them from the images rushing toward me.

Perhaps I only appreciate the gestures, words, and actions, proper
to the small patch of time assigned to me.

Homo ritualis. Aware of it, I do what is prescribed for a one day's


Friday, June 29, 2007


I just had a moment in which I decided that I want things to be as they used to be. The question then forced upon me was of just how far back I want to go. Do I want to go to a year ago when there was seemingly no drama amongst my current close friends? A few years ago when I belonged to and was surrounded by a group of college peers and intimate friends? Could I go back to a time when my parents still loved each other and my family was actually a unit? I think that when I say I want things to be as they used to be, I am really just mourning the loss and brokenness of something I once treasured. There was something beautiful, something right about those things that I miss. I suppose when it all comes down to it, I should really wish to go back all the way to when God created us in the first place. That was the only time when things were as they should be. It is the "used to be" of God... and I know I cannot begin to comprehend the sorrow God must feel as we continually break away from it, even with the realization of my own losses. Yet God is moving forward and calling us to a renewal. So now I am faced with the question of if I really want things to be as they used to be, or as they should be, why don't I more often take to heart the lessons taught by Jesus? Why do I fail to daily take on the commission of bringing heaven to earth. The commands are there. What Jesus says heaven is like is what I should be striving for moment after moment. Visiting the sick and the imprisoned. Feeding the hungry. Clothing the naked. Seeing needs and TAKING ACTION! That is the pragmatic way of moving things to where I long for them to be; the way they used to be, the way they should be, the way they will be.