Eleven syllable, unpronounceable substitute for the word tool

The other night I woke up at 2 a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep. So, I got up for a while. I don’t remember whether I watched T.V. or what. But eventually, I picked up the book my dad had bought for me when Billy Collins did a reading at Miami University about 12 years ago. My dad knew my passion for writing and had asked me to go with him. But I had to work. Dad said he had wanted to get the book signed by Billy for me, but the line was too long. Looking back, that is one of my sweetest memories of my father.

My favorite selection from my Wee Hours poetry reading was this one:

Thesaurus

It could be the name of a prehistoric beast
that roamed the Paleozoic earth, rising up
on its hind legs to show off its large vocabulary,
or some lover in a myth who is metamorphosed into a book.

It means treasury, but it is just a place
where words congregate with their relatives,
a big park where hundreds of family reunions
are always being held,
house, home, abode, dwelling, lodgings, and digs,
all sharing the same picnic basket and thermos;
hairy, hirsute, woolly, furry, fleecy, and shaggy
all running a sack race or throwing horseshoes,
inert, static, motionless, fixed and immobile
standing and kneeling in rows for a group photograph.

Here father is next to sire and brother close
to sibling, separated only by fine shades of meaning.
And every group has its odd cousin, the one
who traveled the farthest to be here:
astereognosis, polydipsia, or some eleven
syllable, unpronounceable substitute for the word tool.
Even their own relatives have to squint at their name tags.

I can see my own copy up on a high shelf.
I rarely open it, because I know there is no
such thing as a synonym and because I get nervous
around people who always assemble with their own kind,
forming clubs and nailing signs to closed front doors
while others huddle alone in the dark streets.

I would rather see words out on their own, away
from their families and the warehouse of Roget,
wandering the world where they sometimes fall
in love with a completely different word.
Surely, you have seen pairs of them standing forever
next to each other on the same line inside a poem,
a small chapel where weddings like these,
between perfect strangers, can take place.

I had never really thought about it before, but for a writer, his declaration that there is no such thing as a synonym is true. Yet, when I am writing, I do tend to use the thesaurus as a tool- precisely for the fine tuning of meanings. I study the related words as if they are puzzle pieces. I try each one in the sentence until I find the perfect fit for the context. When I write a poem, I’ve been known to keep extrapolating definitions of contextual relatives in the thesaurus until I’m so far down the rabbit hole that I’m only running into those odd cousins and going mad trying to grasp why I wasn’t happy with the first cousin.

Then I started thinking about words where a so-called-synonym would never do. Grace is one of those words. I can’t imagine kindness, decency, or benevolence sounding as amazing as grace.

And I love the last stanza of Billy’s poem. I need to live in that world of wandering words more often when I write. And learn how to lean less on the thesaurus crutch. But I still think it is a very useful tool, gizmo, apparatus, or device.

Juicy Fruit

Yes, my posts have been few and far between over the past year. I could list a million boring excuses. But for the most part, I have been busy and my life has been full of juicy fruit! Friends, concerts, travel, moving- my oh my! I've missed writing, though. And writing posts for this blog is good for my soul. When I write, I feel I'm using the gifts God gives me. I think God wired me to express my thoughts and feelings in writing. When I write, I ponder God's Truth & Grace and how it shows up in unexpected places. So, I ask God to keep me abiding so that I may bear fruit. It probably won't be so long between posts in the coming year. I think I'll want to share my future fruit.

Intimacy of Redemption Take 2- True Freedom

I had an online (Facebook) chat Tuesday night with a good friend I hadn't talked to in many years (15 at least). Steve was the main guy who started the whole GANG of Friends who "lived" at my house for a couple of years in high school. To get an idea of this gang of friends and the environment at the house, listen to the song “Our House” by Madness. It describes it near perfectly. The chat with Steve was great in itself. He probably has no idea how much it impacted me, but just going down memory lane with him was the reminder I needed to love Mom for who she is and to appreciate the love she gives me no matter how she chooses to give it to me. Steve asked me to tell Mom that he’s forever grateful for what she did for us. I have been so busy working through my own “issues” with Mom, I had almost forgotten to love Mom for who she IS. Steve told me to listen to the song, "These are the Days of our Lives" by Queen in the midst of our chat. So after we logged off I listened to the Queen song and sobbed and sobbed. On the other side, I have a new clarity about the times in my life where Satan’s lies led me astray. It was a moment of intimate redemption for me.

I’m not sure if I coined the term “intimate redemption” but I notice I am the only one who uses it or who knows what it means. But I’d be willing to bet that most people have had at least one experience of “intimate redemption” in their lives. I think what I am trying to capture with the term “intimate redemption” is those moments when the perfect balance of God’s perfect Truth and perfect Grace consume me and it feels like a unique balm was mixed especially for me to heal a pain I had swept under a rug. Sometimes the catalyst to a moment of intimate redemption is conversation, a movie or a song. For me, the moment is always flushed with tears until my soul is clear. God created my inmost being. In these moments I praise Him that I am fearfully and wonderfully made by Him. God is so good like that!

To be free...

"To be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others." -Nelson Mandela

That quote is on a t-shirt I got at the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg, South Africa. And a few months ago I heard a man speak who lives by that motto naturally. I have no idea if he's ever read that quote, but I get the feeling he wholeheartedly lives it. This man who lives this quote doesn't even know his real name. He goes by Jean-Robert Cadet which was the name his owners gave him in order to bring him to the U.S. from Haiti. Yes, I said "his owners." Jean-Robert was a Restavek. Restavek is a creole word that means "stays with" and it accurately describes the life of a child slave in Haiti.

Most of Jean-Robert's childhood was more like the life of an abused dog- he was not treated like a human with feelings. He was treated like an object- a possession- and beaten badly if he behaved any other way. Once his owners moved him to the U.S., he was eventually discovered by truancy officers. That's when he started going to school and learning that he didn't have to live as a slave any longer. He learned how to escape to freedom. He went on to college, got married and had children. And he started a foundation to help free more children from slavery. Here's the link (if you want to learn more about his story) to his foundation's website: www.restavekfreedom.org

Jean-Robert is part of my church community. Last May my church sent a shipment of 7,000 meals to the foundation's orphanage in Haiti which holds over 100 children saved from slavery. However, those meals sat on the docks in Port-au-Prince waiting for customs clearance ever since May. We got word last week that the food was finally delivered to the orphanage the morning of January 12th...just a couple of hours before the earthquake hit. In the midst of devastation, God is so Good.

I wrote this piece on MLK Day because Martin Luther King, Jr. lived in a way that respected and enhanced the freedom of others. He is famous for his civil rights activism, but his speeches are applicable to ALL people's freedoms. Didn't he say something about his dream being that one day a person would be judged by their character and not by the color of their skin? I think he said it more than once!

If you read the speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. (and I highly recommend doing that), you will notice that all his speeches quote the Bible. Because he knew the true source of his freedom was his faith in the truth and grace of Jesus Christ, who came to teach us ALL how to be FREE!

Story of Service

MLK, Jr. once said, "Anyone can be great because anyone can serve." If a life of service is a guage for greatness, then my dad was a truly great man. I cannot remember a time when my dad was not in service to his community in some way. He was always volunteering for a community project, a committee for community enrichment, and involved in organizations that focus on community enrichment. Many of my childhood memories of my dad are related to going with him on one of these volunteer efforts.

I don't think I ever questioned the benefits of volunteering or serving selflessly. Being in service is my Dad's legacy. All 4 of us, his children, have a heart for volunteering and building into our community. In whatever way we can, using whatever talents we have. And serving others regardless of our personal circumstances.

I was just thinking of my Dad's legacy of service today. He passed away 2 years ago, October 19, 2007. I am always noticing little ways I'm like my Dad, like my natural ability and desire to find the least traveled route to work. And my passion for volunteering- serving my community and people.

I thought about my dad's legacy of service when my brother called tonight to report his latest fund raising success. Tonight's fund raising report was regarding a woman who just lost her 18 month old child due to the physical abuse from her boyfriend. My brother has lived a troubled somewhat self destructive life. And yet when he hears of a tragedy in his community he jumps in to help however he can. He offers his ideas, enthusiasm, and his talents without hesitation. Tonight he shared how he and his friends raised enough money to pay for the funeral and a nice headstone for this 18 month old. And the one thousand plus dollars left after that are being donated to a fund for other abused children. If you just knew my brothers personal experiences you might be impressed. But if you knew our dad, it's no surprise.

My sister's do the same. They are both teachers and truly invest in their students. Plus they volunteer in their church communities, and always help others in need.

I can think of no better mirror of the great man my dad was than the stories my siblings and I live in lives of service.

Prayer Pact

The power of prayer is amazing. Just the concept of prayer is mind blowing. We can talk to GOD, almighty creator of everything, anytime and it's called prayer. And when two or more are gathered in prayer, it's exponential. Some days I'll just thank God for prayer, plain and simple.

I keep a prayer journal. It's full of raw, honest, prayers. I have been keeping a prayer journal for several years, so I actually have several notebooks full of prayers. I noticed that there is at least one theme that I've been praying about for a couple of years. They are prayers for myself, for something I desire. Recently I had a conversation with a friend where we discovered we have both been praying similar prayers for ourselves for that something we desire. And we discussed how redundant it seemed and that we felt a little selfish for it. So I proposed a pact. Beginning that day I started praying for her for that desire specifically and she started praying for me for that. We both felt it was easier to pray for each other for that desire instead of always praying for ourselves. And after a few days we shared what we noticed.

What we noticed was mostly little shifts in perceptions. We were both having insights we hadn't had before in the area of this desire. Neither of us got an immediate concrete result. Yet we knew the pact was working. We were thinking in unprecendented ways and realizing deeper internal beliefs that affected our outward behavior. After the first couple of weeks I noticed my prayers for her were less intentional and more like random thoughts and quick little prayers.

Then I got this message from my friend, Stacie, on FaceBook:
"I'll be praying" sounds good but when daily stuff takes my mind of it, it gets lost sometimes. I want to try to make my prayers deliberate and am going to use my blog to do so. Wanna join me? ;)"

I was immediately inspired! And Stacie has written some awesome blog posts since then. You can check them out at www.faithandart.blogspot.com However, all my initial inspiration has faded momentarily. I know it will return. I've just been distracted. But in the meantime, something I can always offer is a good ol' plain ol' prayer. And in God's eyes, there is nothing mundane about it. He listens always. He is good all the time. Let us pray:

"Lord, thank You for the gift of prayer. Thank you for giving us such a simple way to engage You and Your Holy Spirit. When I pray, I can acknowledge You for Who You ARE and know You created me and love me. I can confess anything I have in my life I know does not honor You and know You forgive me and love me. I can thank you for all Your blessings and know that You gave them because You love me. I can ask for whatever I think I want or need and know You hear me and love me. And prayer can be silence, filled with Your presence and basking in Your luscious love. And when I pray, I pray with faith in Your faithfulness. Amen."

This is Why

On Friday I got to witness a spontaneous and authentic precious moment. My friend Stacie is an artist and she co-organized an art show for Good Friday with another artist named Teresa. The focus was to show the connection between art & faith, and the creativity within each of us given by our Creator. The event took place at Compass Church in a suburb of Cincinnati. And given the context of the event, a Communion station was available. Stacie’s seven year old son, Sean, asked why it was there. I know Sean has seen people take Communion before. But when his dad, Rusty, explained that it was Good Friday, and taking Communion was a way of remembering that Jesus broke His body and spilled His blood for us, Sean was upset. In fact, Sean started to cry.

Stacie and Rusty are faith-full parents and they had told their two sons about Easter before. This seemed to be the first time it was all sinking in for seven year old Sean. Stacie and Rusty did not take this lightly and seized the moment to talk to Sean and answer his questions about Good Friday and Easter. It was getting close to 9 p.m. and the art show was winding down, but there were still lots of people around and other kids running, playing, and doing their best to create distractions. But Sean’s attention to his parents and their attention to him did not waver for at least 15 minutes while they had their intimate moment. I was not a part of their moment, but for a few sweet minutes I was within earshot. My heart swelled with gratitude for the moment and God’s love.

Sean was having a hard time understanding how Jesus could have come back to life and that He still lives. Stacie and Rusty told him it was normal to struggle with that concept. They explained that is how faith works. It takes a leap of faith for anyone to accept that as truth. No matter how old a person is, the idea of a human being tortured and killed, yet rising from the dead, and his burial tomb being found empty seems unreal. Adding to that the fact that it ALL happened because God’s love for us is deeper than any love we can experience from any other human. It’s a lot to grasp. Yet millions of people all over the world from all sorts of backgrounds, ages, levels of intelligence and variety of talents have taken that leap of faith and we are all living proof of God’s perfect truth and grace.

Sean’s honest reaction to the news of Good Friday and Easter was embraced and addressed by his biological mother and father. The bible tells us that our Heavenly Father rejoices over us and delights in us. I know God was rejoicing over Sean’s questions and delighting in Stacie & Rusty’s surrender to the moment. It’s in these moments where I am blessed to be a witness that I KNOW my Redeemer Lives! And this precious moment I just shared? THIS IS WHY I have faith and praise God’s perfect truth and grace.