Palmtree Contemplations

The image of perfection, My seams so straight, my body whole. The object of affection They worshiped with empty souls. But I was shattered by life, Bereft, alone in the cold. You cannot unmake strife. No unselling what's been sold. Let Me mend you with my love: Molten gold that fills the cracks, Strength and courage in place of Fear, and hope that brings you back. Let Me heal you with my grace: Heat, water, and gentle hands Reshaping your once broken face To hold My love and help you stand.

This past month has been hard for several reasons. However, amidst all the confusion and loss, I began to notice big differences in how my body handled the stress of this winter and last. By this time last year, I had had one bout of bronchitis, and was well on my way to a second. I coughed my way through most of last year's winter, and slept through much of the rest of it. This year, even with multiple things going wrong, my body still hadn't collapsed the way I've come to expect. The thought snuck in: maybe I don't have Lyme anymore. I thought about being free from Lyme on my way to the specialist yesterday. What would it be like? Of course, I'd have to keep it a secret for a few months, just until they confirm it. The excitement of the possible diagnosis pulled me through the cold walk from my car to the specialist's office.  Nicole worked through several different issues I've been having, prescribing a round of progesterone and, of course, vitami

Here I am Barefoot and cold, Kicking up moments in the grey Their sunset edges bright Red, orange, and gold, The remains of a grace filled day. Here I am Pretty but sad Laughing at empty jokes that fall Dead on the ground with their Parachutes broken, An attempt to make gladness crawl. Here I am Thoughtful by night Filling the moonlit hours with songs, Notes binding open wounds 'Neath blustering skies. Mercy's salt makes a weak voice strong. Here I am Walking through fog Lamps gleam above, unblinking eyes Guard the way with golden Beams, faith's true color, For tomorrow the sun will rise. Here I am Rambling and lost Finding my way through freezing rain To where you stand, arms and Umbrella open To shield and strengthen in the pain. Here I am Hugging you close As we take the rudder and steer A clear path through this storm, Smiling at lightning. We are bound for home. Do not fear.

I grew up beside a river.  Every morning I woke up to its silent current running past my house. It was always there, shaping my days with its seasons and storms. Every year, it dropped during dry season, and tall, sharp, grass grew up along the banks in bright green swaths. Every year, the river rose again, and sometime during the winter break I might wake up to find that huge grass islands had been cut free by the current and were being gently carried past my house. It was silent, yes, but oh so powerful.  My favorite way to end the day was to dive off the dock at sunset and float until the stars came out. I knew how to lay in the calm backwater, where the current would not get me, but most of the time I let the current take me downriver. I enjoyed the letting go, the way nothing was required of me but to rest and let the current carry me.  My sister-in-law Hayden died on Tuesday. Writing this sentence does not feel real in any way. THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN, I keep saying t

252, 330! As of ten minutes ago, this is my total step count for the Step Into Their Shoes Campaign. This has been a long month of walking and realizations. Here's a break down of my experience of the charity walk week to week. Week 1 Yippee! Rise and shine and walk! Seriously, this is how I felt every day of that first week when I woke up early to get a long walk in before breakfast. When I came home from work in the evening, I finished up however many steps I had left with a long walk around my neighborhood. Here's the thing: I took all of my walks alone. ALONE. Come to think of it, I've made a habit of walking alone since childhood. We weren't supposed to go out in the jungle by ourselves, but I did all the time...with my dog and my machete. (Quite the lethal trio) Most of the time, though, I've been alone on my walks since. After college, I used to walk around my university town alone late at night, and I did the same thing when I lived in Seoul. In many p

Here is the story, as simple as I can tell it. For years now, I have been made more and more aware of how prevalent sex trafficking is in our country. I live very close to what is a hub of this industry: Milwaukee. Crazy, right? If you walk along the Lakefront, it's difficult to believe that such a beautiful place is the home of such a destructive thing, but it is. Here's a link if you want more information. http://www.wisn.com/article/local-woman-tries-to-stop-milwaukee-s-spiraling-sex-trade/9642735 I've wanted to do something about this for a long time, and have felt unable to because of Lyme disease. In the past couple of months, though, I have been amazed by a renewed sense of energy. For a few weeks now, I have woken up often before the sun, something that has not happened for a long time. I finally have the strength to do something, however small, about this problem. For the entire month of October, I will be walking 50, 000 steps a week to raise money for women