hold it

Today as I was flying on my bike past a bus stop in the Tower I caught sight of an elderly woman sitting next to a young girl on the bench. The older woman was (seemingly) using a cell phone that belonged to the girl.

There was something about the way the woman was holding the phone that made it look (to me) as though she were unaccustomed to using a cell phone. The way her elbow poked out, and the stiffness of her arm, and the way she held her face just slightly away from the phone....

I may be all wrong, of course. The woman might be a ninja with her cell phone, able to text-message with her eyes closed, use her voice name key without repeatedly shouting into the air like a maniac, and have even have mastered the mystery of 'the switch-over.'

But it got me thinking.

Once I fell for a guy just because I could tell by the way he held a book in his hand that many a book had been cradled there.

And I thought about the word itself: hold. My dictionary gives it 26 definitions. For such a little word. Among other things hold can be a prison cell, a delay, control, an obstruction, and a place where stuff is stored inside a ship.

I could see William Wallace (well, okay--it was Mel Gibson--but still) standing before his troops bellowing out his command to "Hold...hold..."

But back to my original thought, and what is actually the first definition given: "to have in one's grasp."

I wondered about the way I hold onto things. How I have them in my grasp. And that thinking led me down the path that is the most frightening of them all: self-examination. Eeeesh.

So yeah. Sometimes holding is good: as in with babies, hands, dinner reservations, and apparently Scottish patriots at one point.

But if it is true that you can tell a lot about someone by the way they hold on to something, perhaps having a very tight hold where there should be release is worth reconsidering.

mama i'm comin' home

The other day I was in a mood... so I tuned my radio station into the classic rock station, which is also called oldies sometimes. As an aside, it isn't even the music of my youth. It's more like from my 20's... which is crazy. But anyway...

As I listened to the lyrics of one song, called Mama I'm Comin' Home, I was struck and amazed by them. Clearly the young man singing the song was airing his heart and his wounds and the mother of all issues--his mother issues--for all the listening radio world to hear.

I was moved by the words.

Then the DJ came on and began his obnoxious banter, but not before declaring the artist responsible for the song to be none other than Ozzy Osbourne.

Now I hear tale that Ozzy has a show on TV... a reality show, perhaps I heard? And he has a family and whatnot. Being ignorant to all things televison these days I don't really know what he is like now. But I remember refusing to listen to his music and condemning anyone who did ever since I heard the infamous urban legend about him biting off the head of a chicken during a concert. Nowadays that's probably pablum but back then it was quite shocking. Well it still is to me, actually. And gross. Eeeesh. And I have a hard enough time eating meat as it is...

So of course I Googled that this morning--because we can do that these days--and because I should have been studying--and found all kinds of theories regarding the validity of that myth, as well as mention of a few other living things he may--or may not--have...um...accosted?

Yeah, so.... there really isn't much point to this post, or any deep spiritual wisdom I am seguing into here or some surprising parallel I would like to draw... not that I wouldn't have used one had I thought of one... but I just think the words to this song are real. If his album covers mean anything, he might be a Satan-worshiper, actually, so I'm not exactly recommending you go out and buy all his cd's.

But maybe I should have given ol' Ozzy a little more of a chance. Or some grace. Or at least prayed for him. Because he's just a wounded little boy all grown up.

That's all.

Times have changed and times
are strange
Here I come, but I ain't the same
Mama, I'm coming home
Times gone by seem to be
You could have been a better friend to me
Mama, I'm coming home

You took me in and you drove me out
Yeah,
you had me hypnotized
Lost and found and turned around
By the fire in
your eyes

You made me cry, you told me lies
But I can't stand to say
goodbye
Mama, I'm coming home
I could be right, I could be wrong
Hurts so bad, it's been so long
Mama, I'm coming home

Selfish
love yeah we're both alone
The ride before the fall
But I'm gonna take
this heart of stone
I just got to have it all

CHORUS
I've seen
your face a hundred times
Everyday we've been apart
I don't care about
the sunshine, yeah
'Cause Mama, Mama, I'm coming home
I'm coming home

You took me in and you drove me out
Yeah, you had me hypnotized
Lost and found and turned around
By the fire in your eyes

going to the cabin

Yesssss..........

cartoon for the week

Happy Birthday Emily

Emily (a.k.a. Puddin) turns 18 today.

When Emily was born, everybody knew there was something special about her.

And it is still true. She is a joy.

Her heart will take her amazing places, and I am happy to watch her soar.

"go where love has not yet arrived"

Today while making sauce I listened to an NPR podcast. It was about Homeboy Industries, a ministry that--among other things--helps former gangsters find jobs. What first caught my ear was when its founder, Father Boyle, spoke of a young man who entered his office covered in tatoos. Of course that's not really unusual...but this young man had devil horns tatooed on his forehead.

"You know, I been havin' a real hard time findin' a job." he said.

Check out Homeboy Industries and Father Greg Boyle.

He speaks of "living as though the truth were true."

Yessssss.

why i love my neighborhood

In the past few days I have been spending way too much time in front of my computer writing a paper. In order to keep from going completely wacko, I have taken a few long walks/bike rides.

Here are some of things I have recently witnessed in my neighborhood:

--a chicken crossing the road

--two elderly black men getting jiggy at the piano in the Salvation Army

--a conversation at the Fiesta Foods checkout counter involving FOUR languages

--a skater's victory dance after a magnificent grind off a loading dock railing

--an old old lady wearing a babushka giving me a huge toothless smile

--a pack of about 20 dogs terrorizing the trash piles in the alley

--myself buying an entire outfit for $12.00

--a tacqueria con mariscos on just about every corner

a potential answer to the oft-asked question: "what about all those faith-based funds?"

The President had been looking down at some papers about the event, but his head jerked up.

"Nothing? What do you mean we've given them nothing?" He glared. "Don't we have new money in programs like the Compassion Fund thing?"

Read it and weep.

quote for the day

I was talking to my daughter Sarah today.... and she was telling me about some of the things she is experiencing at her jobs.

Sarie is back home from New York, as you probably know, and in addition to going to school at FCC, she is working two jobs. One as a caretaker in a retirement home, and another as an assistant to the teacher of an adult class for the developmentally disabled.

Nearly every time she gives me an account of what she does, how she gives of herself, and tries to bring some cheer and encouragement into the lives of these people, I am amazed. I told her today how proud of her I am.

She responded by saying she thinks it is what she is supposed to be doing right now... that it is part of the learning process God has her in.

I agreed with her and said I could see God all over this situation.

To which she replied with what shall be my quote of the day... maybe the week:

"Yeah... God's all up in my mix right now."

the song of longing

I am thinking that if we could truly comprehend the extent and nature of our Father's love for us, and really believe it, everything would change. From our very countenance, to the way we interact with and present ourselves to others, to the way we move through the world.

Yesterday I sat through a counseling appointment in which I, with fumbled words and nervous hands, tried to explain a long-lived feeling that manifests itself with actual physical symptoms. Though I have lived with this feeling clinging to me like an ugly conjoined sister, and have known it seemingly always, I had trouble finding words that described it.

And as words slowly formed that began to give the feeling a tangible identification, it hit me.

Words from loved ones:dear friends, children, family members, and my own mouth entered my head as though I had them in my iPod and had just pushed the button on the playlist.

It is the song of longing. The longing to be loved for who we are—that little, scared, silly, smart, clumsy, funny, loving, questioning child of God and man who is the core of who you are. Who I am.

“Love me,” it sings. “Please know me and love me.”

And the chorus is a lie that repeats itself:
“You are not lovable. If they know you they won’t love you.”

Today my dentist—my dentist—said this to me:

“I’m not sure I believe that God wants to heal us all of our diseases…but I’ll tell you what… I’m 100% sure Jesus came here to free us from bondage. And part of that bondage is the lies we believe.”

Of course our God and Father does know us and love us. Unfathomably, deeply, unendingly. He calls to us in love. We just can't hear Him over the cacaphony of lies we have made the soundtrack of our daily life.

The song borne of bondage. I hear it all around me.

May we all be free from its refrain.

photo discovery of the week

taken by Heinrich Herrer,
mountaineer, author, and friend to
the Dalai Lama and Tibet

observation of the day

In this town, listening to Tracy Chapman while riding the city bus might be considered doubling up on reality. And maybe not that great of an idea.

overheard in the library

guy on cell phone:

"Dude where are you?"
******
"I thought we were hooking up tonite, foo."
******
"You're so gay, foo."
******
"What about Halo, foo?"
******
"Not even for dinner, dude?"
******
"Ah man you're so gay."
{sound of phone snapping closed}

" Foo."

so maybe i should be studying instead of blogging

Tomorrow morning I will be taking my first college exam in 13 years.

Trying not to freak out here.

for melody

Wouldn't this look nice next to your
Don't Hassle Me I'm Local bumper sticker?
Get yours here. I'd buy it for you but I'm saving up
for a Jamba Juice card.