an everlasting light

My windows glow in the cracks between the blinds. With two fingers, I spread apart the blinds and peek out into the night. White light carpets the ground and pieces of it float like feathers in the reach of a street lamp.

I see this every night for ten nights.

I sleep in too late in the mornings, spend way too much time on facebook, watch too many movies, eat too much chocolate.

I walk around the baseball fields one day and remember what it felt like to trudge up the hill pulling a sled, following my brothers and trying to step in their boot prints. Red cheeks, white puffs of breath in the cold air, snow clumps clinging to my gloves, coat, scarf, hat. At the top of the hill, out of breath, I barely have a moment before I'm shoved face-first onto the sled and kicked down the hill, screaming.

"She's headed for the creek!" I hear behind me. "Steer left, Amanda!"

I thrust my arms out in front of me, pushing them into the snow, creating a stinging spray of it against my face. The sled hits a snow-covered mole hill and jerks me sideways, backwards, feet-first. I land in the blackberry bushes and my brothers have to haul me out and brush off my scared-snowy face.

"Don't tell Mom," they say.

I remember this and smile as I tromp around the Yauger baseball fields and look forward to pulling off wet socks in a warm room, even if it doesn't have a wood stove to sit by.

Another day, I decide to go Christmas shopping. Along with thousands of other hoodlums. I make it safely to a parking spot at Target and linger inside, even after I've successfully picked out presents for everyone on my list. I know I have to face the traffic entropy outside whether I like it, or not. I decide I won't like it, buy my gifts, and leave Target. Twenty-five minutes later, I arrive at Safeway, two blocks away from Target. When I leave Safeway, it takes me 40 minutes to get home, another two blocks away. I decide not to drive again until the snow has melted.

After two full days inside, I must exit the apartment or go mad. I exit the apartment and walk to Safeway with cash in my pocket. I wander the aisles in Safeway, trying to find some excuse to be there. I stand with a multitude in front of rows of glass doors guarding empty milk racks. We can see heads bustling here and there through the space between the racks. A white carton of 2% milk suddenly slides down one of the racks and a teenage girl rushes toward the glass door, pulling it open and crying out in ecstasy as she grasps the carton, tossing it into her friend's grocery cart. A man standing nearby smiles at the girl's acquisition. More and more white, 2% milk cartons slide down the racks across the rows of glass doors. A nonfat chocolate milk carton slides down one of the white-cartoned racks. I realize I don't need milk.

Snow days, a weekend and three days before I make an exodus to sanity and Christmas with the fam gives me a lot of time to think.

One night, I have a breakdown. I am so aware of my sin that I begin to cry, pushing my head under the covers in the dark because I am not alone in my house.

I confess to Jesus often, probably every day: "I'm sorry. Please help me not to do that again. I'm sorry." This time when I confess, I'm sucking in air trying not to blubber snot all over my pillow. It's a moment when the Holy Spirit slaps me across the heart with two visions: what I look like now, and Jesus. Covered in feces, The Cross. Piss all over my face, God incarnate.

Teaching has made me aware of how depraved I am. This is good. If I had no idea what an idiot I am and what huge mistakes I make every day, I would be completely ignorant of the fact that I am rubbing my students' faces with dirt from my own hands and telling them to EAT IT.

Thank you, God, for giving me Jesus. Thanks, Jesus, for giving me your Spirit. Thanks, Spirit, for counseling me, for convicting me, for guiding me. Thank you for your interest in and concern for me, a rubbish heap with feet. I love you and adore you. Thanks for letting me stink up your presence and be the idiot waving my arms and shouting hello from across the room. Thanks for coming over and saying hello in front of all your cool friends.

from Isaiah 60
Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the LORD rises upon you.
See, darkness covers the earth
and thick darkness is over the peoples,
but the LORD rises upon you
and his glory appears over you.
Nations will come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.
. . .
The sun will no more be your light by day,
nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,
for the LORD will be your everlasting light,
and your God will be your glory.
Your sun will never set again,
and your moon will wane no more;
the LORD will be your everlasting light,
and your days of sorrow will end.

that's what I love about a rumschpringe

An Hour of Optimism, when figuring


[everything]


out tastes like ice cream when i need it


the most and i am excited to become


the bohemian image of a burlap skirt


and cotton headscarf, holding baby


in crook of arm, feeding bulging bellies


one-handed


[scattering feed for the chicks]


indicating with nods and words and smiles


how to work the well


Come children, Come!


The world is a better place, and how


did we end up here?

Knee Caps or Else

While running mock 10 on the elliptical tonight, I saw a trailer for the movie adaptation of John Patrick Shanley's incredibly introspective, challenging, and thought-provoking play, DOUBT.

Anyone watching my face probably started laughing.

Halfway through the trailer, I realized my mouth was hanging open, my eyes were bulging out of my head, and a little bit of drool was slipping off of my lower lip. I might as well have stretched out both arms toward the screen and gone in for a hug.

I am so excited.

I saw DOUBT live on stage at the Seattle Rep a couple of years ago, and actually blogged about it: O, Sister


It gets better.


I started paying attention to the T.V. screen, which had formerly been playing an interview between Larry King and Brad Pitt, when I saw Philip Seymour Hoffman (aka the actor love of my life--CAPOTE--loved it) in a black priest's getup. Then I KNEW. It had to be DOUBT. And it was. It IS. It WILL BE.


It gets even better.




Meryl Streep plays the primary role of the nun who has doubts.


Oh, it's going to be good, or else I will have some knee caps to break in Hollywood.