Part II

After inspecting the teens in stubborn silence, Mother invited them in. But underlying her welcoming words lay the disposition of a surprised snake, ready to strike.

The teens walked through the house to the kitchen. The smell of warm baking met their noses as they sat at the table. Would you care for some hot cocoa, asked Mother. Yes please, if it's not an inconvenience, they replied. Oh, no inconvenience at all, was her response, although her voice was high-pitched from strain.

The kitchen was quiet except for the clattering of mugs and spoons being brought out of their dark homes. Father looked at daughter, daughter looked at brother, brother watched all with patient indifference. No one looked at the Other. Mortified at the silence his presence seemed to have brough on the family, he watched the daughter's hands as she tugged at her hair.

Suddenly, her Father broke the silence.

"So...how were your exams?"

His daughter's face smiled with relief at this normal question, and her mouth unleashed a chipper soliloquy worthy of a great actress. And indeed she did act, for her words seemed hollow and senseless to her. As her lips moved, her thoughts were elsewhere, until she suddenly fell silent mid-sentence.

Her Father looked at her expectantly and asked another question. She saw his lips move but didn't hear his words, for the words in her head were far louder and insisted on being heard. He repeated the question, triggering the offensive snake in his wife to strike.

"Can't you see that she's thinking? For God's sake Father, leave her alone for once. Why do you have to shove your expectations on all of us?"

Her husband's face tensed and his eyes narrowed. His voice had heavy overtones of sarcasm, as if he knew exactly where to push his wife.

"MY expectations Mother? I'd say that's the pot calling the kettle black, dear."

"Why can't you just keep your loud mouth shut darling, and let us live in peace for once!" She let out a short scream of intense frustration and rushed upstairs, leaving the water kettle whistling its high, mono-pitched tune.

Those left in the kitchen stared at the spot where Mother had been standing. He daughter got up to pour the hot water. Her son lifted his right shoulder in a shrug, as if the other shoulder couldn't even bother anymore. It had shrugged off too many harsh words, and had now learned that it was best to stay in place to protect the heart. His shield of indifference was impenetrable, or so it seemed to his sister. She had been away too long, forgetting what home was like. She sat back down at the quiet table and joined the men in suddenly caring deeply which way the grain of the wood went.

"Your cocoa is getting cold." The young man stared unblinkingly at her cup as he broke the silence. She gave him a smile, but one that was as similar to her regular joyful visage as the dark side of the moon is to the brightest summer afternoon. He mentally whipped himself for having suggested they come here.

Her Father watched his face. Obviously this kid didn't realize that the cold war was not yet over in this household. he prayed that this might be the Christmas that hope arrived. It would take the Mighty hand of an outsider, but mabye this year it would happen and they would have some lasting peace. Peace. What he wouldn't give for just a moment of true peace. True, he hadn't exactly been the model of a patient and loving husband, but who could be? Not after marrying a witch.

Mother lay facedown amongst the pillows on the bed she had shared for 22 years. Why did he have to be so insufferably perfect to everyone except her? She knew she often nagged like a leaky faucet, and sometimes she turned the full blast of her scorching anger straight onto her husband. But he should expect that with his attitude. He even seemed to not care that their precious baby gift had brough home a boy. And what kind of accent was it that he had? Not that she was a racist, but her little girl deserved the best.

Realizing that her re-entrance into their lives was causing an extra onslaught of anger between her parents, their daughter felt intense pain, burning deep into her belly. They were crushing each other, and she had made the situation worse. Without thinking, she allowed an abbreviated gasp of pain to leave her lungs. But this was no ordinary empathy pain. It felt like red hot knives were piercing her abdomen.

All male eyes at the table looked ather in concern, eyes that narrowed in tandem as the pink in her cheeks made a hasty exit. She shook her head slowly, blinking quickly, gripping her mug of cocoa.

You heavens above, rain down righteousness;
let the clouds shower it down.
Let the earth open wide,
let salvation spring up,
let righteousness grow with it;
I, the LORD, have created it.

- spoken through Isaiah the prophet

PART I

Smoke puffs drifted idly from the chimney, giving the impression of a haven of peace amongst the suburban sprawl. But the impression was a false one, for there was only a facade of peace in this household. As the sky reluctantly released its dancing crystalline treasures, the family was reluctantly admitting two travel weary teenagers into their cozy home.

Mother scowled relentlessly at the young man as he tentatively stepped over the threshold. What right did he have to accompany her daughter to their family Christmas celebrations? He stared back at her, with emotions a mixture of belligerence and terror. What kind of person was she?

Father eyed his daughter as she awkwardly stepped out of her shoes, unwilling to let go of the young man’s hand. What was their relationship? She had always been a quiet child, albeit with a hint of stubbornness underlying her sweetness. Avoiding his eyes, she chose instead to look around at the familiar furnishings and festive decorations. It looked like home to her, yet it felt strangely cold. What had changed? A nervous shiver began at the bottom of her spine and moved up her body, embracing her in its chill. Her hand clasped his more tightly as she struggled to keep her fear from showing through her trembling limbs. Her other hand went into her jacket pocket, as if by habit.

anomalies

Yes, this is a tomato...from my garden...it's a bit mutated.

















Remember Gary Larson's Far Side cartoons? I'm sure there was one somewhere about a guy looking at a cow and seeing it all carved up into different pieces of meat. So this is my version of that - a steak that is practically moo-ing still! And yes, if you push the nose, it does moo.














mmm, pretty fog.

the pursuing

It dances dryly in the wind, its sun-dried edges slowly cracking. Slowly swirling on a sullen breeze, the leaf has little life of its own. But in an instant, the air becomes alive, crackling with life. Another golden leaf rises up in the wind to create a teasing partner in the airborne tango. It flits away, whirling and spiralling until the other becomes dizzy with excitement. Taking advantage of a momentary rallentando in the breeze, it returns the favor by pursuing its teasing partner, almost catching up. But the gentle wind causes them to twist and roll, and it encircles them as the pursuer tries unceasingly to be united with that which it cannot catch. Around and around and upwards they spin, the pursued staying just out of reach of the pursuer. Close enough to taste and see, but far enough to be mysterious and exciting.


"We are strangely rewarded: we feel gratitude and love, humility and wonder, reverence and awe, adventure and homecoming. We shout hallelujah, and we weep tears of joy. So we pursue it all the more until the end when we find it has been pursuing us and we are caught up into the Pursuer we have so long pursued." (Brian McLaren, a Generous Orthodoxy)

apparently it's autumn now

i wish autumn was way longer. it always goes by way too fast.

a novel situation

I had a new experience today. Someone told me that she was "completely in shock and upset" to discover that she had been assigned to the Bible study group I'm leading. The reason cited was that I talk too fast. I know it sounds funny, but she was stark raving serious. It was odd being on the receiving end of someone's dislike. I'm not so naive to think that no one has even disliked me before, but I've never had anyone be so hostile and so completely serious. She was quite blatant about the fact that if there was another place to do Bible study on the same day, she'd be all over it. The funny thing is, the topic of our Bible study for the next 6 weeks is "Celebrating Grace" - it's a church-wide topic. What does it mean to extend grace? Do we quietly accept when people are rude to us...or it that just being a doormat? Do we stand up for ourselves and not let people talk to us that way...or is that being un-grace-ful?

The long and short of it is that today I made a discovery: I dislike being disliked.

rant shmant

Why are single men such dinks sometimes? Why is it that you can meet them and be having a perfectly normal time with them, treating them like you treat everyone else, but as soon as they find out you're married, suddenly they won't even give you the time of day anymore?

??!

My high school english teacher always said that single people of the opposite sex can't be "just friends". We all thought she was touched in the head. Apparently single people can't be friends with married people of the opposite sex either. Why is that? Can someone please explain this phenomenon to me? It's really frustrating because there seems to be a very large segment of the population with whom I'm not allowed to be friends.

some of the more interesting things i've seen this summer...

a nap.




















a kayak. without water.












a cocoon.
















a swing.














a stick.

a sign.

the colors of summer

busy beavers

So I spent an hour yesterday helping deconstruct a beaver dam. And before anyone calls the animal rights people on me, let me tell you that the most recent dam on my in-laws property has caused the nearby farmer's fields to flood, jeapardizing their livelihoods. Anyway, digging around in the sticks and mud was VERY gratifying to a city kid like me. Last week they had someone from the country come out to actually blow a hole in the middle of it with dynamite, and since then they had built it back up high enough to hold the water in again. So if anyone says they've been "as busy as a beaver", I might have reason to doubt. The beavers in that pond have a severe case of workaholism that would be next to impossible to mimic. Unless of course your house was going underwater...or in their case, coming out from underwater. :)

night fright

There was an inky darkness all around me, except for the exceptionally frequent flashes of lightning. The house was alive with the sounds of crashing rain and angry thunder. And I woke up in a strange place. On a couch. In a home that is not my own. I didn't know where Jon had gone, or even if he was still in the house. So I tried to make my way to the bedroom in the corner, hoping he would answer my whispering, plaintive cries. Where was the doorway? It seemed to have shifted in the night. I couldn't find it. The rain crashed harder on the steel roof. Then as the lightning lit up my surroundings again, I suddenly found myself facing a ghostly pale visage, staring at me with open mouth. I yelped fearfully as my heart found itself racing to get away from the strange apparition. But then I realized where I was. Just outside the door, staring in the mirror.

It took many minutes for my heart to slow back down to a healthy rate.

the making of a monster

Mr. and Mrs. Spongeinstein work feverishly, all day and throughout the night, to bring life to their monster.








Mr. Spongeinstein struggles to keep the monster's brain from overheating. He is, however, causing a bit of a dry skin problem.










At last, the monster is born! And his name? Spongeinstein...Spongebob for short. Mwahahahahhahahahahahaha

BEWARE THE SPONGE.

why i like moving

We're moving! There are many reasons to celebrate this momentous occassion. In contrast to popular theories, I actually ENJOY moving. Then again, I've never had to move a whole houseful of stuff. So here is why I like moving:

1. I get to rediscover old treasures...and promptly pack them back into a box to find the next time I move.
2. I finally get to get rid of my Bible college clothes...why did I wear that again?
3. I get to live in a messy house and not feel guilty about it.
4. All my breakable stuff is safely packed away where I can't break it.
5. I might finally get a new picture for my driver's license!
6. I get to laugh at the government all over again as it takes them another year and a half to figure out who I am and where I live...don't they communicate?
7. I get to redecorate.
8. Most of my 150 books are packed away so I can't start any more new ones before finishing the old ones. I think I've been working on one of them for almost a year. That's a new record for me.
9. I get to find fun stuff hiding in the couch and under the bed. Oh that's where I put that!
10. My new house will be perfectly clean...for about 10 minutes.

But I'm still sad to leave this place. Sniff sniff.

perfect solutions to your every problem

I think I'm a klutz. let's see...I fell off my bike before even getting on; I trip on every staircase I attempt to walk up; if it's spillable and I'm holding it, I'll drop it...but I discovered some excellent home remedies for a few of my more common problems. Let me share them with you.

1. If you are choking on an ice cube, don't panic. Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat and presto. The blockage will be almost instantly removed.
2. Clumsy? Avoid cutting yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you chop away.
3. For high blood pressure sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.
4. A mouse trap, placed on top of your alarm clock, will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.
5. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives, then you will be afraid to cough.

And finally, if I could give you one piece of advice that has done me well through all my years, it is this:

Never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.