dear Jesus

dear Jesus, why?

I ask this question over and over again and yet I don't really want the answer.

I wanted you to do a miracle.

I prayed that sickness would not win.

And yes, I am angry at you, Jesus because I cannot reconcile everything that's going through my head. I want to punch my pillow and scream for you to bring Christy back and I want to be able to tell her boys that this is all a terrible joke and that their precious mother will soon be home.

But I choke on these words as they mingle with tears in the back of my throat.

My head knows that there is a reason for Christy's swift passing and that you are sovereign and that you are holding her family in the crook of your arm.

But in my heart of hearts, I cannot see past the inky, black shroud of darkness and I only feel destitute and broken and so, so incredibly sad.

I know that it's not about me or my earthly desires and shallow wants.

It's about you, Jesus- simply and purely you.

It's about you on that cross and in that darkness with the weight of all the sin of the world on your shoulders. It's about you staring death in the face and winning anyway.

dear Jesus, I don't understand and I have learned that that's ok.

So, thank you for allowing my paths to cross with those of the kind and beautiful @christybowlby.

people of the world

people of the world... i've got some messages for you straight from my heart... i have been doing this for some time but decided to keep track of them in blog posts... so here goes:

dear people of the world. i love you. pboone

dear people of the world. you are valuable and you are loved. pboone

dear people of the world. forgive yourself. move on. love. pboone

dear people of the world. give up on bitterness. exchange it for kindness. love. a fellow traveler. pboone

dear people of the world. do your dream. love.pboone

dear people of the world. eat candy. be happy. love. pboone

dear people of the world. vote loudly. speak softly. love. pboone

dear people of the world. it's not going to be easy. do it anyway. love. pboone

dear people of the world. grab a hand and give it a squeeze. love. pboone

dear people of the world. just a friendly reminder. Jesus is bigger than coffee cups. love. a fellow coffee drinker. pboone

dear people of the world. when you find a friend (a real one) do everything it takes to keep it. "greater love has no one than this: that a man lay down his life for his friends". just saying. pboone

dear people of the world. stop being angry. love Jesus. love others. be kind. that is all. pboone

love. a traveler in time. pboone

It's Been Awhile

so, i kind of fell off the regular blogging wagon sometime around the middle of 2012. yeah, and i fell so far that it took me three times to remember the name of my blog. with this being said, i want to make a commitment to blog more regularly.

recently, a friend and i started write night roanoke. we meet at the local library on every monday night to write together. this weekend and today more specifically, we are participating in our first annual write-a-thon: 24 hours of writing to celebrate NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). we are all working on different projects and chilling together in a great space. 

as a lot of you know, i get most of my inspiration for writing from my one word, one topic exercise in which i have my facebook friends comment on my post with one word. that one word becomes the topic of my piece of writing. the first person who comments is the topic that i must use. if you are my friend on facebook, feel free to take part in the fun. after i write the piece, your name be posted as the inspiration.

back to my blog commitment, i would like to post a substantial work at least once a month. also, i have started this "people of the world" project on facebook and i plan to start this project on my blog, as well.

please join me in this journey as a traveler in time.

Time in Between

           I remember that summer very well.  I couldn’t have been more than ten which would make my brother eight and it was the beginning of a season full of opportunity.  It all began when my mom assigned me and my brother the task of making sure the Kool-Aid pitcher was always full.  A week or so went by quickly as Ben and I alternated between cherry red (which I always picked) and lemon lime (which was his favorite).  We consumed more Kool-Aid than seemed possible.  We had Kool-Aid straight up.  We had Kool-Aid on the rocks. And best of all, we made our own Kool-Aid popsicles with that weird shaped Tupperware contraption that converted liquid Kool-Aid into icy goodness.  And that is how the summer began. 

            It wasn’t long before we figured out that if we saved the UPC bar codes from the colorful packets, we could send them back to the company and receive awesome toys and gadgets and stuff that kids like us wanted just because it was free.  So, that summer Ben and I set our highest goal… Fifty bar codes would soon get us a spectacular Kool-Aid pitcher and four cups to match.  Now, let me say right here that the picture looked amazing with Mr. Kool-Aid man all decked out and four little Kool-Aid men to complete the set.  And it would only cost us fifty simple bar codes.

           So, Ben and I started saving. We couldn’t wait for the day when we could exchange our meager collection of used up Kool-Aid wrappers for an exquisite, china cabinet worthy set of our summer time desires.  We figured out, being the bright children that we were, that the more Kool-Aid we drank, the faster we would win the prize.  We drank. We had Kool-Aid for breakfast, Kool-Aid for lunch, Kool-Aid for dinner, and any time in between.  Finally, one day Ben simply stated, “I think we have it.”  Slowly we counted out the packets one by one with anticipation building as each colorful package was numbered.  And we sent them in. 

Then we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

            We began planning how we would use these treasures. I began thinking how posh it would be to drink from the kid sized glasses.  Ben wanted to invite people over so we could serve them Kool-Aid.  Both of us were thinking how cool we were suddenly going to become.  We thought the day would never come.  We would wait outside until the mailman came each day, hoping that a box shaped package with our official names on it would be part of the bundle of letters that arrived each day.  Every time the UPS man passed by on our old country road, our hearts would flip flop, hoping upon hope that today might be the day.

           One day, the package came.  Reverently and patiently, we slowly used the kitchen scissors to slice the mailing tape away from the cardboard box.  We reached deep inside the packing peanuts to pull out the much waited for package.  Slowly, reality dawned on us both.  Inside this package was nothing but a cheap, plastic replica of a pitcher and four miniature plastic carbon copies.  To say the least, Ben and I were disappointed.  We had worked so hard and waited so long for this day. 

  

          I remember every day saying to each other, “I wonder if it will be today.”  I remember driving my mother crazy with the all consuming joy of coming home and saying, “Did it come? Did it come, yet?”  And suddenly, I realized that the true joy was the time in between.  From the moment we began collecting Kool-Aid packets to the moment of ecstasy when the package arrived, that was the feeling I wanted to keep.

        Life as an adult is like this, too.  How many times have I said, “I just can’t wait until the weekend.”  “I just can’t wait until vacation.”  “I wish it was fall because this heat is killing me.” I think I can generalize and say that we all do this.  We are so busy looking forward to some epic event that we lose all the time in between. We miss the little things like the camaraderie that my brother and I built while working toward a common goal.  We miss the anticipation of every bright, new day.  We forget to seize the day. 

         

   I find that it all comes down to appreciation.  Appreciation is a hug from a client. A note from a family member. A kiss from a niece.  Appreciation is dropping a letter to a long lost friend.    Appreciation is looking up to the sky whether it is cloudy or sunny and saying a simple “thank you.”  Appreciation is giving back when you have nothing left to give.

            I think that it is high time that we all stop taking and start giving a little.  It is time for us to appreciate each other not just for the ways we are alike but for the ways we are different.  Because one day, when Mr. Kool-Aid comes in the mail, it won’t matter that what we received was so far from our expectations.  Because joy is found in the time between.

Scotch Tape and Love

Scotch Tape and Love

On the wall above my computer, there are one hundred and sixty seven snapshots of people whose life travels have intersected with mine in some way or another.  There are pictures of old pets from my childhood, pictures of friend’s kids with whom I am no longer in contact, and multiple pictures taken of my family across the years.  In short, this wall has slowly become a patchwork quilt of memories sewn together with scotch tape and love. 

There is the picture of me at the Candy Striper awards ceremony some thirteen years ago.  There is a picture of Harrison, one of the kids that I babysat during high school. There are photographs of me with Point of Grace, me with my best friend, Britney at the beach, even a print copy of my legendary Grandfather and his old mule.  And I realize that these snapshots are not merely ink and paper but rather, momentary evidence of lives well lived.

And sometimes, when I am at my desk trying to find inspiration to write, to keep walking, to do it afraid, to take one more step- all I have to do it look up from my pen and legal pad and know that I have one hundred and sixty seven people cheering me on.  And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I cannot do it for myself, I have to do it for all those faces staring back at me from their two dimensional perspective. 

And suddenly, I wonder if Jesus had some of these same feelings.  What if- during the whole process of his trial, his beatings, his crucifixion- what if he, too wanted to give in and give up? I mean after all, his closest friends were betraying him and denying him and falling asleep during the most intense night of his life.  I think, while he was being whipped with a cat of nine tails, while the crown of thorns was digging into his skin, while the nails were driven through his wrists, one thud at a time- well, I’ve always had the vision that when the pain was at its worst, when tears and sweat and the knowledge that he was truly alone really hit home, I think he looked up at his wall of scotch tape and love, carefully selected his favorite snapshot of me and said, “I’m doing this for you.”

            

                      I think that is the definition of true friendship. 

  

“Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

                                                                                     John 15:13

To My Friend, Elyse

those eyes
encase the words said
with emotion
so obvious
it hurts.

painful, yet the burden
seems lighter all the same
because someone listened.

and although circumstance
can be eternal,
sorrow is not,
cannot be,
i'm sure


your eyes
hold me in their grasp
letting me know
that you understand.

and then i realize
that you are a not so ordinary angel
that i have come to love
because you listened.

and although circumstance
is so eternal,
tears are not,
cannot be,
i'm sure.

Mastering the Monkey Bars

            I remember my first day of kindergarten- my first day of hanging up my jacket and storing my brand new Care Bears lunch box in my own, personal cubby hole.  I remember wearing my cool, new Velcro shoes and wearing a dress that my mama made just for me.  I had planned to face this day bravely. However, when mama said goodbye that first morning, I was sporting an attitude that could easily be translated into “I cannot cry. I cannot cry. I will not cry.”

            It wasn’t long, however, until I got lost in the amazement of a strange and beautiful world- a universe that had not been explored.  There were toys and books and circle time and other kids and trapper keepers. And, best of all, we had a whole hour of recess each day.

            The first recess was kind of awkward.  The first and second graders knew each other from the previous year so it was just this band of kindergarteners against the big, big world.  It amazed me that the “big kids” could swing their way across the monkey bars at maximum speed and without missing a beat. Some of those kids could even skip every other bar.  And suddenly, I set my first goal, my first matter of business in this, the beginning of my formal education.  I would be the first one in my class to master the monkey bars.

            And so, the year began.

            I found out quickly about blisters. Three days into the school year four little red marks displayed themselves on each of my palms.  And they hurt. And they seeped. And they begged for a break.  But there was no way that I was going to give up this early. So I kept swinging from bar to bar.  And one reach at a time, I conquered the monkey bars.

            I changed a little in those days and weeks and months that followed.  After the first time across, I began to build confidence.  At times, I would go across quickly to show my speed and at other times, I would go slowly to show my strength.  Sometimes, I pretended that I was a real monkey.

            My hands began to change as well. I no longer had oozing blisters- I now had tough calluses on my whole palm. And for awhile, there was nothing in the world that I could not do. 

            Eventually, I learned that life is a lot like monkey bars and the formation of blisters. These are the things I learned:

1.      All through life we will set goals. And the goals that are most important to us get the most attention.

2.      We will all get blisters, scars and battle wounds.  We have to remember that even when the blisters hurt like hell, you can’t have calluses until you have blisters.

3.      Sometimes, we are going along just fine but then our hands get slippery and we lose our grip. We have to start over even when we try and fail and try again.

4.      Sometimes, other kids laugh at you. It’s ok. Just focus and keep your head in the game. Suck it up and keep moving.

5.      Respect the ones who have already accomplished the goal.  Take their advice but also learn to cross the bars “free style.”

6.      Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.

7.      Finally, when you reach the farthest bar and land safely on the other side- Be proud of yourself and CELEBRATE.

I know that these steps aren’t comprehensive and that there are other factors and variables and paradigms that cannot be accounted for. There are at least a few exceptions. And I believe that Robert Fulghum created a more complete list of ways that kindergarten and life intersect. However, I guess the purpose of this essay is just to say that like pain, blisters are not bad. They turn into calluses making you strong and tough and resilient.  They build confidence and teach lessons. But most importantly, they make you stand a little taller and be a little bolder just like I was on my first day of first grade when I proudly showed the new kindergarteners my rough, callused hands.