Photo Friday

Thinking 'Bout Somethin'

HANSON | MySpace Music Videos

Oh, Lord. This is amazing. I do love me some Hanson. And dancing!

Been thinkin'

BEAT

ps: Thanks Amber and Katie for spreading the good news!

Photo Friday: Khette

Khette's Ordination

Nashville, TN

April 2010

*Photos courtesy of Betsy. Thanks.

That Cardigan

You know the cardigan? The one I mentioned two posts down.

The one with silver and gold, shiny and shimmery?

I busted it out yesterday. Paired it with a brown tank and wide leg jeans.

Not one, but two gentlemen and fellow colleagues mentioned I looked pretty and beautiful in said cardigan. It helps that I put on make-up on and curled the hair.

But hey, I put on the cardigan. No longer just hanging in the closet. It does not have the colors of black or blue involved.

So there you go. Not quite as new. But still newish.

I guess that means I need to wear it again...and again...and again.

BEAT

Countee Cullen: She of the Dancing Feet

She of the Dancing Feet

And what would I do in heaven pray, Me with my dancing feet? And limbs like apple boughs that sway When the gusty rain winds beat. And how would I thrive in a perfect place Where dancing would be a sin, With not a man to love my face, Nor an arm to hold me in? The seraphs and the cherubim Would be too proud to bend, To sing the faery tunes that brim My heart from end to end. The wistful angels down in hell Will smile to see my face, And understand, because they fell From that all-perfect place In honor of National Poetry Month and with the inspiration of friends, I share this poem. Countee Cullen is one of my favorites, especially since he comes out of the Harlem Renaissance. My heart from end to end. BEAT

Is that new?

After a long, hard winter, there was a moment when I remembered how to smile. (Genuinely smile.) It was the first time I made a joke. (A self reflective joke.) I call this progress.

Someone offering a sincere compliment posed the question, "Is that new?" That's all it took. The words just came out. Well, actually there were no words at first. Laughter. Bubbling up laughter from the pit of my stomach. Muscles in my abdomen that had not been used for two months and counting. There it was. Laughter. And my answer, "Why yes, yes it is. Everything is new--head to toe. Even the underwear. (Wink)"

The day went forth, continued. Five more people asked the same question: "Is that new?" Each time? Each and every time I smiled, gave a hearty laugh and offered the same carefree answer.

You see, it's true. From head to toe it is new. Except the glasses and those few pairs of shoes that were salvageable. I wish I had that same response with that same spirit each time someone inquires or compliments. More often than not, I just offer a quite "yes." Don't get me wrong. At least I appear put together enough for people to ask and occasionally offer a compliment. For that I am grateful.

The truth, if I may? I miss my things. Please (for all that is good and holy in the world) don't tell me they are just things. I know this. I do. But they were my things. And I really liked my things because they offered me comfort, security, and stability. Yes, even those green peep-toe sandals I pull out around easter.

I miss what was. And for once, new things are not always better. My old things...my gone things...my no-more-mine things were part of my identity. They reflected my personality...my being...me. They are gone. If you haven't clued in yet, I am not just talking about clothes.

I am left with new things. New things that were bought in a rush and without a clear mind. (Imagining the silver and gold cardigan that is still yet to be worn. But hey, I got it for $8?) New things that are black and gray and navy...not green and blue and purple. Yes, I am starting to replenish my wardrobe with some brighter hues of Spring. Most days though, I am drawn to the blacks and grays.

Friends, if you are still out there, I miss...my clothes, my purses, my books, my couch, my jewelry, my memories. I miss what was...and find myself trying to understand what is. What is...well, it does not offer the same comfort and security I once knew. That is why I am not there yet. That is why I am not the happy, hopeful, and joyful person you may remember. The trauma and despair have changed me. Probably forever.

Each day I get out of bed. (Still the hardest decision I make each day.) I put on what is new. I go forth into my day missing what was, knowing newness surrounds me...and live. Sad, anticipating hope, despairing, and yet even experiencing a few moments of carefree laughter are who I am now.

Is that new? Yep. And I hate it.

BEAT

*For those reading and unclear about the details surrounding the above post, I experienced an apartment fire on January 20. It started in my bedroom, where I woke up to it spreading to my bed. I was able to get out of the apartment with very little physical injury. The fire and smoke damage did destroy most of my belongings. Since then there have been other personal and professional tragedies. When people ask how I am, I give three answers. "I'm hanging in there." "I got out of bed this morning." And "I'm in process." This post is about the process, hanging in there, and getting out of bed.

Photo Friday: Easter

EASTER Potluck

Nashville, TN

April 2010

Photo Friday: Holy Week

Good Friday 2010

West End UMC

Nashville, TN

What an honor to lead and worship with the people of WEUMC.

BEAT