Signs.

The rainy season in Northern California has officially begun.
It's the bone soaking kind of rain. The kind of rain that never ceases. The kind of rain that penetrates my rain layers. As was the happening today.
I started work at eight-thirty this morning and I just finished at seven-thirty, but the rain has yet to call it a day.
I was so wet while taking down the zip line trolley that I entertained the idea of just peeing my pants. I mean I had to go, and I was soaked anyway, so why not? Thankfully I did not follow through on this impulse, although it may have made for a better story. Well, actually it wouldn't have made for a better story. Because...I found myself, dripping like a bloated sponge atop the zip line platform, gazing out over the clouded distance, my hands numb and cold, the golf ball sized droplets hanging heavy on the end of the redwood branches and I could not have been more full of joy. The warmth I felt inside compensated for the cold, heaviness of my outer layer.

I had the privledge to work with a group of deaf students and faculty today outside in the pouring rain. I probably verbalized about 50 words today. But I spoke a whole lot. With my face and with my hands. And I heard volumes. It was such a blessing.
I was knocked off my soggy feet by bliss when a student, letting out stifled screams, illicited laughter from the adults and students behind me. Ah, laughter. It superceeds all languages and cultures. I absolutely, utterly, with all of my being loved laughing with this group of people today. How could you not burst into laughter when the most common, powerful form of communication is spreading wide your lips, exposing your teeth and bunching up your cheeks?
I learned how to say very 'brave', 'good job', 'hard', 'rain', 'wet' and 'cold'. I learned how to say 'switch' and 'next' and 'ready?' I learned what 'hungry' and 'joking' look like. I learned 'beautiful', 'warm' and 'you can do it'. I learned a bunch of names and the alphabet. It was an incredible day. And so, despite the possibly miserable conditions, I enjoyed every minute of it.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

"What it is to be a man." -Matthew Shedd

"Nothing is so strong as gentleness. Nothing is so gentle as real strength." -Frances de Sales

Heart Stuff.

I stole this from my roommates blog. So it's a quote from another author quoting another author. So unoriginal. But I liked it. And wanted to keep it. So I will post it.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable... if you want to make sure of keeping [your heart] intact,
you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries, avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket of your selfishness. But in the casket-- safe, dark, motionless,airless-- it will change. It will not be broken-- it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable....The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from the danger of love is Hell." C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

And while I'm thinking about it, matters of the heart always bring to mind this quote by Anne Lamott...

"The heart is a delicate and clunky thing."

Amen Anne and Clive. Amen.

Tag-a-longs and Hairy Moons.

Tongue tingling with paprika, maple sugar and black truffle salt.
Sticker covered wagon cutting through the heat
Carrying two skirted girls, crazy and confident.
Salty cool breezes far behind, they crawl up, up and up the winding road.
Under the gnarled oak trees and into the still silence.
Breeze crinkling the crunchy brown leaves.
Flys buzzing lazily in and out of earshot.
Red shining flesh beneath the flaking calloused skin between my thumb and forefinger.

A flash of memory.
Walking down Wealthy in East Town. Past Rafav's swirled window, Yesterdog and the ever changing restaurant across the street.

Edmund and Lucy begin their adventures while dozing in and out of sleep.
Flipped pages, escaping the thumb, falling with a soft thud.
The ends of my hair like small bugs on my skin.
The low hum of a plane and call of a bird far, far away.
Further still is the wind picking up speed in the valley, rattling the crusty branches.
Heavy eye lids, burning and dry like the leaves under my moleskin.
Left hand growing heavy as my cheek deprives the appendage of blood.
Fluttering wings in and out of sunlit madrone spaces, orange and green.
The distant wind rushing again.
I want to sleep a second time.
I want to keep writing.
The falling sun illuminating the heads of grass like little hairy moons.
Grey tag-a-longs cling to my black skirt.

Bring the Light.

My attitude clouded over this morning.
The dark sky heavy with rain. There were moments of clearing on my run, but the ominous mood continued brooding. I can't put my finger on it other than the fact that I simply did not choose joy. I hate that I can recognize that. But I still fail to make the choice. My struggle becomes more arduous. My breathing more labored, because I loose sight of where I'm going. I loose sight of the purpose and goal. Of truth.
Shameful really.
It's sitting there, ripe for the taking and I choose something of less substance. I choose to do it on my own. My own strength and motivation. And man, is it lame in comparison.

But the clouds broke as I drove to Jenner.
It started with with Mumford and Sons rumbling the clouds, shaking them loose.
Then I rounded the bend on Moscow road in Duncan Mills and a ray of light pierced the veil, sending its light down to my eyes. My heart became a little lighter and I drove on, following the curves of the Russian River. The banks rising up into the blue sky.
The sun was shining on the front lawn of Cafe Aquatica and the earl grey tea in my hand. The waves were lapping up on the rocks, the brackish water from the ocean in the distance mixing with the fresh water of the Russian. The voice of Lewis and my mother completed the symphony bringing peace.

I found myself refreshed and renewed. God is gracious even after my choice of clouds this morning. It's funny that despite my best efforts, God can always bring the light.
Glory Hallelu.

Oh-two Sensors and Oxygen Masks.

If you don't know this about me already, sometimes, I think I go a bit overboard with this processing thing.

The beautiful thing is that God provides me with people who will jump in the waves with me.
I went out with my dear friend Joy tonight. Joy is such a blessing. She is a great listener. This, coupled with wisdom, leads to her asking great questions. She inspires me to be more generous and has fostered a spirit of gift giving in me through her thoughtful example. She sits in her puffy vest drinking thrice steeped espresso reading her ESV most every morning. It sounds strange but I find peace in her patterns. She is a problem solver. And a doer. She replaced her "O-two" sensor on her car the other night. I don't even know what that is. Joy is so many things. And over the last few months she has been a life line. I have so valued her encouragement and exhortation. Most of all I just rejoice in the fact that she asks questions with me. I love that tonight there was someone with whom I could be vulnerable. What a blessing to have someone who understands me.

She summed the evening up nicely. "I wanted to pray but it was like the whole thing was a prayer." And it really was.

That was all just the prologue to the real reason I started writing this entry. I wanted to share an analogy Joyous shared with me. We were walking out to the parking lot of Hopmonk, talking about taking care of yourself. Knowing what you need. She said, "It's like oxygen masks on a plane. You have to put your own on before you help someone else. Otherwise you might pass out and be worthless."

I know I need to go overboard processing. I know I need to write. I know I need to have conversations with close friends. I know I need to be alone. I also know as soon as snap that elastic band around my head, I had better be pulling down all of those bags hanging down to the faces around me.