Eclectic Waters

Archive for 2006

exciting stuff -

a year ago I was sitting in the small hole of a room I prepared to teach in each morning. I was crying. The stale coffee that Mr. Heilman, the teacher I shared one of my rooms with, prepared every morning filled the small space as I held the sobs inside and tried to concentrate on what I would teach that day. I am so thankful not to be in that space anymore.

Last year my birthday was the last day I taught, stepping down that afternoon, and a competent substitute teacher who had taught English for two years and quit because of the stress symptoms she was experiencing took over my class for the last 3 weeks of the semester.

So much has happened this year and I am thankful to have the job that I do, and the (mostly) sanity of mind I do

Here’s to what lies ahead and to new beginnings – each day, each year, this year.

Abba

Thank you for not giving up on me.

God wants me to find Him,

Not a pool of nothingness,

But Him:

Truth wisdom beauty love.

As I find him,

I will find myself,

Not nothingness

But a being created

In His Image.

I am

He is

More solid

Than these abstract words.

—-

Did I tell you cried in my meeting with Bill of Wednesday?

Well, I did. It wasn’t the self-pitying or the I’m so overwhelmed by pain crying either. I cried because I was describing my new relationship with God’s word.

It’s true, I accepted Christ on May 4th 1988. I was five. I grew up with the Bible and while I have had some moments of understanding over the years, it is only in these last two months that I am understanding what I read. Before I would read and forget it, it bounced off the surface of my being. But now, I am reading slower, praying between the words and asking God to reveal himself. I am also reading more consistently – almost every day.

There’s a difference.

It does not happen everyday – but there are times when I pray and begin to read and God literally opens the words up to me and I GET IT! I put the Bible away fed. I have heard people describe this but had never consistently experienced it before.

I cried as I told Bill about how I am actually getting God’s word. I cried because it is a gift. Nothing in my brain or intellect has changed – God is the only one who can call us to Himself – reveal Himself and give us understanding and hope for this life.

I am ashamed that I did not discover God’s word earlier – but am thankful beyond words for the gift of understanding and wisdom.

As I choose to show up and open His word –

He meets me.

He can’t meet me in His word if I never open up.

I would claim America as the place that is my home and the place my heart is currently resting. I may seek Citizenship here one day. Currently I have been living here for about 7 years.

I was born in Germany.

I carry a Canadian passport and my parents and extended family are Canadian. But we are Mennonites and so our forefathers are from Europe and fled because of the persecution they were recieving for their faith as well as being a part of the upper class in Russia. Our heritage is German and Dutch but our forefathers fled from Russia after the Bolshevik Revolution – they had been in Russia where the Queen had offered them refuge.

I am from the ocean. Literally. I’m not kidding. I spent over 9 years aboard ocean going ships, living in a small cabin and drinking in the salty air.

I once spoke German fluently, but it has become like rusted nails in my mouth from disuse.

I went to an American Boarding School, BFA, for two years in Germany.

I lived in Canada for one year.

I lived in Germany for four and a half years before BFA, going to public schools.

My favorite place that I visted while on the ship was the Caribbean, specifically the small island of Bonaire which has the cleanest water in the world.

Where am I from?, you ask.

Please. Find a better question, or ask someone who might actually know. Not me.

A small body,

moving like a black bead across linoleum floor,

spins grey thread.

She hangs it like party streamers

between

rocks, trees, doorframes and windows.

Her webs of small triangles, looped and tied together,

have been dismembered by hats, flailing hands, and squirrels.

Each time, she hides beside the knotted corner, the one in the shadows,

watching

the web break

into frayed fingertips that twitch.

She has sat on the edge of countless webs. When the wind dies down, her legs click forward.

Rebuild.

A small body,

moving like a black bead,

spinning grey thread and stretching it out.

I leaned forward, but heard no sigh,

only the click click click of hairy legs against a twig.

A small body,

moving like a black bead across linoleum floor,

spins grey thread.

She hangs it like party streamers

between

rocks, trees, doorframes and windows.