A Day in Autumn

By R.S. Thomas

It will not always be like this,

The air windless, a few last

Leaves adding their decoration

To the trees’ shoulders, braiding the cuffs

Of the boughs with gold; a bird preening

In the lawn’s mirror. Having looked up

From the day’s chores, pause a minute,

Let the mind take its photograph

Of the bright scene, something to wear

Against the heart in the long cold.

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself." - C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

I am now in the habit of paying 50 cents each morning for a copy of the North County Times somewhere along the (ghetto) streets of Vista on my way to work. Today I flagged down a middle aged hispanic guy with kind eyes and a soft smile. In exchanging how-are-you-this-morning's, he responded with such sweet sincerity, "I'm blessed." And I was so caught off guard, because unlike the "I'm great" I responded with, his words are the kind that cannot be said casually. I imagine that they can only come from the deepest part of the heart, which (I could not think of a more poetic way to say this) made me feel like shit because I am so overwhelmingly blessed, and yet I can rarely bring myself to utter those words.

“No child on earth was ever meant to be ordinary, and you can see it in them, and they know it, too, but then the times get to them, and they wear out their brains learning what folks expect, and spend their strength trying to rise over those same folks.” - Annie Dillard

For my old car that rumbles and rattles with such comforting consistency, making every ride an adventure. Should I ever need them, there are snacks and pens and dimes hidden in every crevice. You can't pay for the kind of friendship we have. I wouldn't want to.

For a job that is exercise to my soul, leaving me mostly out of breath but ever so alive. No matter how unqualified or inadequate I feel, I can't seem to imagine doing anything else.

For the three people who've put up with me for 22 years. They deserve Nobel Peace prizes. I love them more than anything in the world.

For poetry; how I often selfishly feel that God created it just for me because it is so unspeakably beautiful.

For love that I can wear like a baggy sweatshirt and be lost inside the warmth of. How romantic to create such unimaginably expansive heavens so that He could tell me His love reaches beyond even these.

These are my happy thanksgivings. Cheers:)

I wish in the city of your heart
you would let me be the street
where you walk when you are most
yourself. I imagine the houses:
It has been raining, but the rain
is done and the children kept home
have begun opening their doors.

-Robley Wilson

Amazing lives. Definitely not all, but a special few. There is one name not on this list.

1901 Henry Dunant, founding the International Committee of the Red Cross
1911 Marie Curie, physics and chemistry
1921 Albert Einstein, discovery of the law of the photoelectric effect
1923 William Butler Yeats, inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation
1931 Jane Addams, Sociologist; International President, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom
1948 T.S. Eliot, outstanding, pioneer contribution to present-day poetry
1954 Ernest Hemingway, lifetime literary achievement
1964 Martin Luther King, Jr., campaigner for civil rights
1975 Niels Bohr, fundamental contributions to understanding atomic structure and quantum mechanics
1979 Mother Teresa, Leader of Missionaries of Charity
1982 Gabriel Garcia Marquez, novels and short stories, in which the fantastic and the realistic are combined in a richly composed world of imagination, reflecting a continent's life and conflicts
1986 Elie Wiesel, Chairman of "The President's Commission on the Holocaust"
1990 Octavio Paz, Mexican writer, poet, and diplomat
1993 Nelson Mandela, worked for the peaceful termination of the apartheid regime, laying the foundations for a new democratic South Africa
1998 Amartya Sen, contributions to welfare economics for his work on famine, human development theory, welfare economics, the underlying mechanisms of poverty, gender inequality, and political liberalism

Ugh. And I only pointedly accuse because I voted for him. Time to earn it, my friend.

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss

Years and years from now, I want to remember that I graduated college with a full heart and an open mind, more in love with Jesus than ever, and ready to move on with humility and grace. The summer after graduation was sublime, with oh so many beach days, a best friend's wedding, youth group summer camps, late night movies and early morning runs.

“The dedicated life is worth living. You must give with your whole heart.” - Annie Dillard

And now I am four weeks in to my first real post-college job and still loving it. It's hard on my heart though, and some days tears holes that don't seem mendable. No matter how desperately I want to, I cannot be everything to every kid. It's frustrating the way that life seems too rough on them, too harsh for their little lives. But I love their moments of transparency, so wide-eyed and honest when I least expect it. Never before have I been so thankful that my God is rich in love, because my love often feels like it's not enough.

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." - Zephaniah 3:17

In the midst of it all and at the end of every day, I cling to the fact that my God is true to His promises. His love endures, His grace is enough, His mercies are new every morning, and He knows the plans he has for me.

And we are His portion and He is our prize,

Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,

If his grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss,

And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,

I don’t have time to maintain these regrets,

When I think about, the way
He loves us,
Oh how He loves us

As said by a brilliant poet in DC, "What makes us human is what we can have for keeps, and what we can have for keeps is love. "

My element is a light roast of hot, black coffee that goes down smooth, usually with dessert on the side, is Amos Lee and some brilliant poetry - these days along the lines of Mary Oliver, is warmth - in general, is a window that looks out on no particular thing, is, perhaps more than all these, an intimacy with Jesus that makes me speechless and breathless and basically just less.



And I have all these things just now. I do love to be in my element.

Not Forgetting

We used to talk about middle-aged apathy, the lack of passion that would roll over and consume us like a wave somewhere in our thirties or forties.


I desperately do not want to forget where I'm at right now. Change can come so slowly you don't notice it, but I want to be able to trace my steps and remember why I made the choices I did.


I don't like being inside all day. The best part of my days here is the skipping home in the afternoon, being kissed by air that didn't come out of a vent.

I need interaction. Cubicles do not suit me. While we're talking about suits, suits do not suit me.

A Fire in Your Belly

Rosa Parks had a fire in her bellly. According to Ralph Nadar, that is. He blankly called us out on our apathy and lack of passionionate anger. I will admit, I was pleasantly surprised by pieces of what he said. There was an unmistakble sadness, though, that distracted me just a little bit. Where politic should have been, instead I saw weariness. He wore age like chain mail, it hung all around him. What he did say is that "Freedom is access to power." I believe that.

Would that I could throw out all money and pay for life's necessities in poetry....


"I can tell what I saw next; it was not a miracle.
A beautiful villa stood in the sun
and from its doors came the smell of hot coffee.
In front, a baroque white plaster balcony
added by birds, who nest along the river,
--I saw it with one eye close to the crumb--

and galleries and marble chambers. My crumb
my mansion, made for me by a miracle,
through ages, by insects, birds, and the river
working the stone. Every day, in the sun,
at breakfast time I sit on my balcony
with my feet up, and drink gallons of coffee. "

-From Bishop's "A Miracle for Breakfast"

A night of poetry reading and spoken word at Busboys and Poets: Perhaps the best night I've had in this city, and I held my breath for most of it. We went for moral support, and Mark was fabulous. Novice? I think not. But the other contenders left me speechless. The tension made my toes curl and I've come to think poems come alive in the author's throat, because along with words came out accusations and confessions and revelations. I could barely walk home I felt so lightheaded. And here is Tasha Jones, who I cannot even begin to introduce...


State of the Union
by: Tasha Jones

I have walked in the valley of shadows and death
I have prayed for the redemption of those I adore
while I bleed, while I feed, while I attain
I have cursed what opposes with bitter breath
I have consistently aimed for better and more
while I drink, while I sink, while I refrain

I have given everything I could of the nothing I possess
I have battled to take every offered gift back
while I pine, while I whine, while I complain
I have clung to every forgiveness without seeking redress
I have waged every possible war without making an attack
while I scream, while I dream, while I abstain

I have poured my life into every choice I've been given
I have flowed freely through the reality that escapes me
while I grasp, while I pass, while I extend
I have endeavored to draw more out of life and living
I have promised to be both sister and enemy to the sea
while I grow, while I flow, while I contend

I have longed for a redemption that hasn't yet come
I have ceaselessly been a reckless pawn of my heart
while I rave, while I pave, while I intend
I have been less to most, but more than enough to some
I have decided that it's far too passive to wait for a start
while I lie, while I try, while I wait for the end

I tried to grow out my nails in an amusing attempt to prove that I can be the girl with delicate fingernails. But I cut them, and remembered how much I love freshly cut fingernails. I bought sweaters and dress pants for sophistication, only to crave the afternoon change into jeans and a white tee. I bought makeup only to remember that I like my face without it. And here I am in Washington, DC, only to realize that I love waking up in Valley Center.

The Bright Field

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

-R. S. Thomas

And it does feel like it was all a dream...


I'm just going to say it: I miss socialism. I stumbled upon this idea in conversation, and it's been in and out of my mind ever since. It's as though the more time grows between me and Spain, the easier it is to understand what I miss about that life. And here is the big one: I miss socialism. In a choice between greed and laziness, Spain chose laziness. Not better for business, but better for life. (America chose greed. Better for business, of course.) I know we have better hospitals and better doctors and better services, but there is life lost in all this betterness. There was a slowness to life in Barcelona that forced me to match its pace, and now I'm a bit frazzled at the way life in American seems to go at a sprint.

And in a broader sense I miss Barcelona - and really all of Spain - with an intensity that hurts sometimes, because it's made up of irony and growth and regret and change and experience and joy. I miss it twelve months' worth. I feel a little bit wrecked for American life, for Southern Californian life, for San Diegan life. I need cafes and the metro, I need to hear Castellano and the rest of Europe's languages, I need to feel lost in the crowd and insignificant....

And lastly, there have been these moments... when life seems to be playing her best card and I feel like I'm the only one who gets to see it... what are the chances that I'd be there at just the right moment? When will I ever go to a Danish Christmas party again, or have a house party at David's beach house in Sitges, or see the sun settle down on the water in Venice, or watch the Eiffel tower sparkle at midnight, or be with all of Barcelona on the beach at night for Sant Joan...I'm starving these days.