Thursday, January 27, 2011
Snow in the Stillness
Soft and made of the pure joy of white flakes, falling slowly as the giggles of lilliputian angels dancing tip toe, a waltz across the quiet of a winter night. It is the waning hours of the night, slipping away when the perfection of this gift can be absorbed fully into the soul. By morning the clean crisp linen washed alabaster of the World is spoiled once again, by the foulness churned up from underneath. The irony is that we believe we are clearing away the path, when really we are disrupting the playground of purity found only in those quickly stolen moments, when all is soft, and calm, and well with the Holy Peace found in that stillness given as a fleeting gift, a remembrance of the time of innocence, of a gasp caught in the awe of that first glance onto the newness and endless possibilities that are the jubilant felicity in a child’s imagination. We lose it so swiftly, that if you blink it is gone. Hold onto it, capture it in your heart, take it in with your eyes. Orbs of resplendence beam down upon the polished luminous pillow, presenting the curtain of powder before me is soft sighs. Burning bright my cheeks alight, I shelter away the all to brief memories of my moments of peace, waiting for it to pay a call once more.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Why did I get a Lemon
I think when God was handing out bodies in heaven he made a mistake and gave me a used one. I got the worn down, old model held together with duct tape and bungee cord Lemon of a body that no one wanted and that didn't work right. I find it more and more upsetting that it seems to refuse to function, and that my mommom who died when she was well into her 80's didn't have the kind of broken down achy, full of pain body that refused to work. I mean that woman was in good health and she was totally rockin. Her legs were like Betty Grable and her skin was gorgeous. It's like I am Danny Devito in Twins, I got all the left-over crap DNA. I know I am complaining and I don't really give a crap. I am just tired, I am so very tired. It isn't a normal tired, I am worn down and fatigued and not just in health, but my mind is so very fatigued as well. So I am complaining, because God gave me a Lemon and I can't go to some crack pot ambulance chaser lawyer and sue the pants off of him.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Truth
Do I tell you the truth or do I hide it behind my smile?
I have written many times in the months that I have been absent from this blog, but the question is; how much truth do you share on a blog, even if it is only read by the people you love? Do you dare bare that much honesty, even at night when everything seems possible, do you let them break in through your barrier and see whats behind? I wish I really could, but the truth is, the truth scares me too much. Not what you would think of it, but the thoughts that I think you would think of it. I conjure up the results in my head, and know I could not face that truth. Even this is to much, it will bring questions; questions I have no desire to answer, but how do I know, if I don't try?
I have written many times in the months that I have been absent from this blog, but the question is; how much truth do you share on a blog, even if it is only read by the people you love? Do you dare bare that much honesty, even at night when everything seems possible, do you let them break in through your barrier and see whats behind? I wish I really could, but the truth is, the truth scares me too much. Not what you would think of it, but the thoughts that I think you would think of it. I conjure up the results in my head, and know I could not face that truth. Even this is to much, it will bring questions; questions I have no desire to answer, but how do I know, if I don't try?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
It is 2:38 am and I really feel like screaming but unfortunately everyone is sleeping and screaming into a pillow won't work either because sometimes my father has super hearing (other times when you are yelling that you heard something downstairs not so much) but yeah life is frustrating and sucky and I am listening to loud angry music in my head phones and I just wish I could scream really loud. Nothing deep tonight ya'll I am sort of in a funk and a writers block so I won't delve deeply into the mind of the greatly disturbed Janna tonight (however apparently I do have a sarcastic joke or two in me ;) Alright thats all; and this is just for the 3 or 4 peeps who actually read this and will understand. No deep comments required. Love ya
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
For dust you are and to dust you shall return; only not the soul
I don't know how to start this, I have started it three or four times, that fact is that for once I don't know what to say. I feel rather at a loss, I suppose I should be crying or grieving in some way. Years ago there would have been weeping and gnashing of teeth, sack cloth and ashes and now... are we so removed from life that death simply does not affect us. Have I become hard hearted and changed so by society that the death of a member of my family effects me is such a way? You see I am not crying I am not throwing myself on the floor in terrible grief I am not sitting Shiva. That fact is I don't know what to feel, or how to feel, or if I am feeling. I feel so very empty and confused.
Perhaps I should digress in order to explain the present.
My Aunt is Korean, she was adopted when she was a toddler and though this might sound like an oddway to start off it makes sense in my head. I never knew growing up that she was different. I didn't see her almond shaped eyes and olive skin as different, all I knew was that she was my aunt. As children we are ignorant in in that ignorance perhaps there is truth in the old saying ignorance is bliss, for we do not know the things that change the way we look at people, all we see is the person.
Later you learn things, unsavory things and you no longer see the world through rose colored glasses. My Aunt was not lucky in love, her first husband was abusive to her, but she got two beautiful daughters out of it. Her second husband attempted to kill her and made her miserable, and changed her in a way. She got nothing out of that one. Then she found Tom. He was sweet, kind, his family became her family, her family became his. Her grandchildren called him Pop Pop and to them that is just what he was. He was at every Christmas gathering and so were his relatives, and it was just excepted as normal because Tom fit. Aunt Donna didn't cook, but that was ok because Tom did, and man did he make one mean pecan pie! Tom was a good man, and my aunt had finally found love; real love, with a man who treated her like she was his world and she did likewise. She found the love of her life the man who made her happy.
My aunt is a good woman, if it weren't for her, my father would be taking on caring for his mother alone (besides us of course). She is there for family, she carried on the traditions her parents taught her and tried to hold on to family gatherings long after we had all come apart. So perhaps what I am feeling most right now is a sense of complete unfairness.
At 9:30pm my cousin called to tell me my Aunt's husband, her stepfather, my Uncle had died.
It is with that same suddenness in which I presented it to you, that we all took it in. It was to soon, not that we hadn't expected it someday soon, but not yet. He was given months, not weeks.
Not but a month ago, we were introduced to the news of immenance about my Uncle. He had a tooth abcess, and was sick, they thought he had a heart attack, but it was really an infection of the heart caused by the tooth. Just a little while later he had trouble swallowing. This was a man who was not often sick, who was vibrant, and always ready with a smile. It was discovered that he couldn't swallow because he had esophogial cancer, and what was more, there had been no symptoms and the cancer had already spread. It had spread through his body and had infested it so much so that it was as if hope was taken away as quickly as the breath pounded from your lungs.
My Aunt turned to family, and for the first time in many years, she looked to the faith that was instilled in her by her parents. She asked my father, her big brother to pray for them. She wanted a miracle... so did we all. We went and we prayed, we laid hands on him, we had a spark of hope, a flash of faith, a chance that this would not be so completely unfair, but that God would use this to bring them both to him, and give them the life-saving miracle we all dreamed of.
But he didn't
I don't know why, but he didn't.
Tom went into the hospital, he was losing so much wieght, his friendly mustache was gone, and so was his smile. They tried chemo, but it wasn't to be had. He went into hospice care, and was sent home. We thought they had months, that he had months, that their time together would not be cut so terribly short. But it was.
I don't understand, and perhaps that is what I feel, a lack of understanding, and a deep pit of unfairness eating away at my stomache, gouging a hole with a shovel made of questions.
Perhaps I should digress in order to explain the present.
My Aunt is Korean, she was adopted when she was a toddler and though this might sound like an oddway to start off it makes sense in my head. I never knew growing up that she was different. I didn't see her almond shaped eyes and olive skin as different, all I knew was that she was my aunt. As children we are ignorant in in that ignorance perhaps there is truth in the old saying ignorance is bliss, for we do not know the things that change the way we look at people, all we see is the person.
Later you learn things, unsavory things and you no longer see the world through rose colored glasses. My Aunt was not lucky in love, her first husband was abusive to her, but she got two beautiful daughters out of it. Her second husband attempted to kill her and made her miserable, and changed her in a way. She got nothing out of that one. Then she found Tom. He was sweet, kind, his family became her family, her family became his. Her grandchildren called him Pop Pop and to them that is just what he was. He was at every Christmas gathering and so were his relatives, and it was just excepted as normal because Tom fit. Aunt Donna didn't cook, but that was ok because Tom did, and man did he make one mean pecan pie! Tom was a good man, and my aunt had finally found love; real love, with a man who treated her like she was his world and she did likewise. She found the love of her life the man who made her happy.
My aunt is a good woman, if it weren't for her, my father would be taking on caring for his mother alone (besides us of course). She is there for family, she carried on the traditions her parents taught her and tried to hold on to family gatherings long after we had all come apart. So perhaps what I am feeling most right now is a sense of complete unfairness.
At 9:30pm my cousin called to tell me my Aunt's husband, her stepfather, my Uncle had died.
It is with that same suddenness in which I presented it to you, that we all took it in. It was to soon, not that we hadn't expected it someday soon, but not yet. He was given months, not weeks.
Not but a month ago, we were introduced to the news of immenance about my Uncle. He had a tooth abcess, and was sick, they thought he had a heart attack, but it was really an infection of the heart caused by the tooth. Just a little while later he had trouble swallowing. This was a man who was not often sick, who was vibrant, and always ready with a smile. It was discovered that he couldn't swallow because he had esophogial cancer, and what was more, there had been no symptoms and the cancer had already spread. It had spread through his body and had infested it so much so that it was as if hope was taken away as quickly as the breath pounded from your lungs.
My Aunt turned to family, and for the first time in many years, she looked to the faith that was instilled in her by her parents. She asked my father, her big brother to pray for them. She wanted a miracle... so did we all. We went and we prayed, we laid hands on him, we had a spark of hope, a flash of faith, a chance that this would not be so completely unfair, but that God would use this to bring them both to him, and give them the life-saving miracle we all dreamed of.
But he didn't
I don't know why, but he didn't.
Tom went into the hospital, he was losing so much wieght, his friendly mustache was gone, and so was his smile. They tried chemo, but it wasn't to be had. He went into hospice care, and was sent home. We thought they had months, that he had months, that their time together would not be cut so terribly short. But it was.
I don't understand, and perhaps that is what I feel, a lack of understanding, and a deep pit of unfairness eating away at my stomache, gouging a hole with a shovel made of questions.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Searching for Who I am
I know where I came from, I know who my parents are, and they're parents, and even they're parents before them, but still there are so many mysteries, and now the only grandparent that I have left to tell me the stories has dementia; so she is essentially gone too.
When I was a child I knew exactly what and who I wanted to be, not who I was, but who I wanted to be, then it changed...everything changed. I became lost. I had no path, I still have no path, no line of sight in which I can walk knowingly secure in the knowledge that it leads somewhere. I don't know where I am going and I don't know who I am. I feel lost.
I have always been fascinated with history and genealogy and some say that I can even tell a story about something that happened long before I was born, just as if I had loved through it myself. So I began to search for who I am in the past. Where did I come from, who is my family, why is so much information missing, who are the people long lost in pictures that there is no longer anyone to tell me who they are. Everyone deserves to be remembered, but they are lost, and so besides the fact that the same blood runs through my veins that ran through theirs, I feel a kindredness with them. Who are they? Why were they forgotten? They were part of my family, how did they become lost? I search for these answers as I dig through the past, and as I search I try to find myself.
Who A I?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The cat and the tissue box
So Henry David Thoreau once said, "Write while the heat is in you" and while I realize that I just wrote something on her about five minutes ago, perhaps less at this point; I don't really care because the heat is in me and I feel like saying so many things.
About a week ago, my sisters, my mother, and I were sitting around the living room having a rousing discussion about God, and how sometimes (well lets be honest, it's really most of the time) God doesn't really give us what we want, or he does in a roundabout way, or he gives you something different but better for you, because he is God and he knows all, so while you might feel that you are suffering he is actually saving you from further suffering. I am actually surprised that I caught that much, because at that point, my poor (evil) old (should be dead by now) somewhat ailing cat began to lick open a wound she had that I am sure itched which was why she was scratching it. In response and in an attempt to stop her from further injuring herself, I launched a tissue box across the room in the direction of the cat. I didn't mean to hit her really I didn't; I mean sure she pees on every surface, and has ruined countless pieces of furniture, but she is still my cat and I do not condone inflicting pain upon animals. Well I guess you can see where this is going... I hit the cat in the head. She looked up utterly stunned and stopped licking herself, while a chorus of angry cries assailed my ears, mixed with a slight giggle from one of my sisters. Hey Janna! What the heck! Why did you hit her (giggle giggle)? I immediately went on the defensive. WHOA WHOA I didn't mean to hit her, I just meant to scare her so she would stop hurting herself. Instead I inflicted a little pain to stop her from causing herself a lot more pain later on.
As soon as my statement was out, and AH HA! escaped my sisters lips as she turned to declare that my statement which wasn't meant to be, was brilliant! That is like God she said. You might think you are in pain now, but maybe God is just allowing a little pain in order to stop you from causing yourself more pain in the long run.
This might not seem like a huge big deal, but lately when my foot hurts, or my head aches so bad I want to drill holes in it to relieve the pressure, or when my back hurts I can't stand and sitting hurts and lying down doesn't help either, I think about that statement, and think what are you doing God? Then I think about when Heidi Baker asked that same question, and God said to her, "just wait...I'm doing something!" So okay God, I guess I can try to endure the tissue box being thrown at my head, just as long as the next thing that you throw isn't heavier.
About a week ago, my sisters, my mother, and I were sitting around the living room having a rousing discussion about God, and how sometimes (well lets be honest, it's really most of the time) God doesn't really give us what we want, or he does in a roundabout way, or he gives you something different but better for you, because he is God and he knows all, so while you might feel that you are suffering he is actually saving you from further suffering. I am actually surprised that I caught that much, because at that point, my poor (evil) old (should be dead by now) somewhat ailing cat began to lick open a wound she had that I am sure itched which was why she was scratching it. In response and in an attempt to stop her from further injuring herself, I launched a tissue box across the room in the direction of the cat. I didn't mean to hit her really I didn't; I mean sure she pees on every surface, and has ruined countless pieces of furniture, but she is still my cat and I do not condone inflicting pain upon animals. Well I guess you can see where this is going... I hit the cat in the head. She looked up utterly stunned and stopped licking herself, while a chorus of angry cries assailed my ears, mixed with a slight giggle from one of my sisters. Hey Janna! What the heck! Why did you hit her (giggle giggle)? I immediately went on the defensive. WHOA WHOA I didn't mean to hit her, I just meant to scare her so she would stop hurting herself. Instead I inflicted a little pain to stop her from causing herself a lot more pain later on.
As soon as my statement was out, and AH HA! escaped my sisters lips as she turned to declare that my statement which wasn't meant to be, was brilliant! That is like God she said. You might think you are in pain now, but maybe God is just allowing a little pain in order to stop you from causing yourself more pain in the long run.
This might not seem like a huge big deal, but lately when my foot hurts, or my head aches so bad I want to drill holes in it to relieve the pressure, or when my back hurts I can't stand and sitting hurts and lying down doesn't help either, I think about that statement, and think what are you doing God? Then I think about when Heidi Baker asked that same question, and God said to her, "just wait...I'm doing something!" So okay God, I guess I can try to endure the tissue box being thrown at my head, just as long as the next thing that you throw isn't heavier.
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