Sunday, March 30, 2014


let's try something new, shall we?

Saturday, March 29, 2014


One day I'll pack my bags. One day I cash out my savings, take all my money with me and go. One day I'll open up a map and point somewhere and set my compass in that direction. One day I'll spin a globe and stop it with my finger and go to that very spot.

Middle of the ocean? Doesn't matter.

One day I'll drive miles and miles and get a postcard at every stop. One day I'll change dollars into quarters and make phone calls on pay phones in so many cities. One day I'll send a letter to my family with the return address left blank because who knows if I'll be here tomorrow? One day I'll learn to live on skill and if I'm a good waitress then I'll do that. If I can carve pipes out of cherry then I'll do that. If I can tell stories with my words and give them to you on paper then I'll do that. One day I might do it all. 

But one day I might meet you. And on that day I'll stop saying one day and I'll start saying today. 

Friday, March 21, 2014

I have a question for you

Did you know tears free your soul just like the truth?
Did you know sunlight isn't the only thing that warms the bones?
Did you know happiness isn't stored in the bottom of a treasure chest or the hand of your lover?
Did you know "I love you" could mean a thousand times more than what it means to you now?
Did you know that?

Thursday, March 20, 2014

just under your nose

Where did the sweet days go
When did the honey stop dripping
Why did the lights go out
These eyes can't see far in front of me

When did the breathing get hard
Who decided to complicate things
How much farther do we travel now
How much harder are we pushing

Whose rules are we following
Whose lantern do we walk by
Who do I give these flowers to
Who made these goals so high

If I don't know where to go
If I don't know where up is
If I can't tell you my name
If I can't promise you anything

Will you try to hold on
Will you walk with me in the black night
We can use both of our eyes
Maybe we'll find the source of the light

Maybe we'll find the honey
Maybe it's been dripping all along
Maybe we've tasted too much 
Maybe we need more God. 

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

march 4

You would be 69 today. 

We would have baked you a cake, maybe served you a beer, lit a candle, and watched you blow out the flame while your raspy throat made crackly sounds-- (that's what the cigarettes did to you).

You would have opened your gifts that you probably didn't need, but you would have smiled in gratutude anyway. You would've joked about the wrapping or the card or something else because you like to joke-- (mostly I think you just like to laugh).

Maybe then we would have played a card game all together, as a family-- poker, perhaps. (Or maybe we wouldn't have because we know how seriously you take those card games.)

As the night lingered on, we would have poured black coffee in our cups and sat around the living room talking about the days when I was "Shrimp" and you liked to pick on me because you knew I could take it and dish it back. (I was so little then, but our quick wits were good together, weren't they?)

I bet you would've had good stories to tell at grandparents day at school.

I bet you would have been the loudest one cheering at my highschool graduation. 

I bet you would have read all my stories-- and even liked them too.

I bet we would have be tight, me and you. 
I bet we would have been really good friends. 

Right now I'm thankful that you're celebrating your birthday with Jesus, without a raspy throat or any of the other illnesses that ultimately took you home. 

I'm also thankful that one day I'll get to bake you that cake, watch you open those gifts, and talk with you into the wee hours of the night-- that will be many moons from now, but I still look forward to it. 

Mostly I want to say that I'm sorry we didn't get more time, because I think we would have had quite a bit of fun-- me and you. 

Happy birthday, paw paw leroy. 
I love you as big as the sky, 

Sunday, March 2, 2014

become invisible

How I go to the woods

Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore 

I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds 
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of 
praying, as you no doubt have yours. 

Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, 
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.

If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.

Mary Oliver

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

promised land

Sometimes you just have to take a chance.

You have to take the chance that looks so good, but might be bad. Or, maybe not bad, but not quite the best. 

But it's still a chance. You take it because it's there and your hands are open wide. The chance could fill your hands like a rock, or it might slip through your fingers like sand. Isn't that the essence of chance?

You could say that chance is bad for you, unhealthy even, but when has chance ever been that? Chance is salty, exciting, vibrant. Chance foreshadows a sweet resolution. 

But on the other side of chance is reality. Reality could be gloom or greatness-- you don't know. 

But you take the chance, you jump the tracks, you write the check and pray it cashes. 

If it cashes, then the Giver of the good gifts had lead you right into the promised land. 

And if it doesn't cash, your account isn't empty. Truly, your money has simply been put into reserve for something greater-- a better promise. A better chance.

So take the chances and carry your mind in one hand and your heart in the other. Eventually you come to the chance that will lead you into your promised land. This chance, this sacred chance, might not feel much different than any of the other uncashed checks, but as soon as it clears it will become evident--

this was your chance.