Untitled, or, an almost-haiku

I am a dandelion

blown in a lazy dance

by a breeze which kisses my face

Poem to My Future Husband

I think I'm in love with your smile

the way our hands will probably be a perfect match

the color of your eyes when we say goodnight

and sitting on a porch, together

or laying in our grass (will we have a yard?)

our laughter making music.

i think we'll spend our free time snuggling

or dancing in the kitchen

or playing ball, you can choose

hopscotch?

not everything will be sunshine and roses

but we'll be together.

i think we'll get a puppy (I hope you like dogs!)

and we'll take him on walks

I've already named him Moose (I hope you don't mind)

I bet we'll talk of adventure

Socrates, Plato, Philosophy

Maybe we'll travel the world?

I sure do like airplane rides.

I think the way you hug me will make me melt

and I hope my head can fit in the crook of your neck.

I bet you'll enjoy reading books

or, at least humor me when I talk about them

I think you'll make me insanely happy

and adding each other to our lives

won't complete us,

but instead, will allow us to walk side by side

sometimes barefoot, sometimes clothed.

Dreams

Do you believe God speaks through dreams?

I do.

Lessons/Stories from the Brush

Lessons/Stories from the Bush

The other night a missionary named John Cutts came by our house to talk to my family and some friends. John lives with the Moni tribe in West Papua. He has lived there since he was 2 years old. John’s parents were missionaries to the Moni, wrote out the Moni alphabet language for the first time, and translated most of the Bible into Moni. John knows their language fluently and continues ministering to them today with his wife. Here are some of the stories he told us. All of them are true.

The tribes in Papua New Guinea speak over 1/5 of all the world's languages. One of the biggest tribes in the mountainous area is the Moni Tribe. In the area where John grew up, there are 4 main tribes--and Moni is the largest.

Hazi Talk: These tribes had never seen a white person before missionaries in the 20th century arrived, and yet they had a strange legend in their culture. For generations the chiefs taught their tribes a legend about the white people like ghosts who would come someday. These ghost people would teach Hazi (eternal talk). They would tell the tribes how to live forever. I got goosebumps when John told that story! No one knows how that legend started or why it circulated for so long. It was an important part of their culture long before the first white man ever showed up.

First Encounter: The first time a white person showed up on the island, the news spread like wildfire. The chief of the Moni people heard that a white ghost had arrived and was speaking to a nearby tribe. The Moni chief walked through the jungle for three days to see the white ghost. Because the missionary was visiting another tribe that spoke another language, the Moni chief couldn't understand everything that was being said. After the missionary was done talking, the chief asked him to come to his village. The missionary couldn't understand him, so he gave the chief a bar of soap and a glass bottle of merthiolate, which is like iodine, some of the best medicine of the day. The chief walked back to his village and called all the people around him. He told them that a white ghost had given these gifts to him, and they were going to let his people live forever. Then he shaved the bar of soap into pieces and gave them out to the tribe, telling them to eat it. The people did, but there wasn't enough soap for everyone. So then the chief gave the people who didn't get any soap a sip of the merthiolate, but there wasn't enough of that either. So then he took a rock and smashed the glass bottle of merthiolate, and gave a little piece of glass to everyone who didn't get some soap or merthiolate, and they ate the glass. But the people kept dying and the missionary never showed up. Until John's parents walked into the village years later.

John’s parents lived with the Moni people, learning their language and culture. They were eager to share the Gospel with the Moni people, and eventually, God showed them the perfect way to explain the Good News. It's amazing how the Gospel reaches people of all nations and languages. To the Moni people, the Gospel just makes sense. There is a tradition within the tribes of West Papua. When two tribes war with each other, they have to keep fighting until there has been an equal number of deaths on each side. So, if side A has 4 deaths but side B has 6 deaths, they have to keep fighting. Maybe the next day, side A has 6 deaths, but now side B has 7 deaths. So they have to keep warring.

But there is a way out of it. If the tribe with fewer deaths decides it doesn’t want to fight anymore, they can have the Ceremony of the White Pig. What this means is that the tribe that has the fewer deaths will pick one of its warriors to sacrifice. The tribe selects the warrior, binds his hands, ties him to a spear, and hands him over to the other side as an offering of peace. It is called the Ceremony of the White Pig because pigs are the most valuable things in their culture. Pigs are a sign of wealth, used to buy brides, and during times of festivities. The White Pig (the chose warrior) is given to the other tribe, and they kill him. Then there can be peace between the tribes again.

So, the idea of Jesus as a sacrifice makes perfect sense to them. God wants peace with mankind so badly, He gave His best warrior and only son as a sacrifice so we could have peace. How amazing that such a concept makes perfect sense to people in one of the most remote places in the world!

An Actual Ceremony: John gets invited to a Ceremony of the White Pig. It's a really big deal for him to be invited and to be able to witness the ceremony. So John arrives at the place where the ceremony is happening. The two tribes are hooping and hollering and dancing around because they are so excited to enter a time of peace. The warrior who has been chosen as the White Pig is in the center of this giant celebration, hands tied to a spear that's stuck in the ground. John is watching all of this, thinking, "What am I supposed to do? Do I cut the guy loose? Do I stop them and tell them its wrong? Do I say to take me in his place?" And as he is thinking and praying, all of a sudden, all of these warriors come running into the clearing screaming and celebrating up a storm! In their hands are giant sticks, and they are carrying large, live boars tied to the sticks. They lay out the boars, one after another in front of the other tribe. There are 63 boars! The tribe that caught the pigs asks the other tribe if they will accept the 63 pigs as a gift instead of their warrior as a sacrifice. They say that they know now that they shouldn't sacrifice their own because of Jesus, and even though it's a serious tradition, they'd like to give 63 boars in his place.

The other tribe huddles together and talks about it for awhile. They finally decide to take the boars in place of the warrior. And they cut him free.

How amazing is that? We are like the warrior, tied to a spear, about to be sacrificed because of our sin, and Jesus takes our place (like the boars) and cuts us free of our bonds.

If you liked these stories and want to know more and/or support John, here is a link to his website: http://villageheartbeat.org/

rain dance

David and I

are rain dancing

tribal

intense summer heat

soothed with cool, solid rain

and i understand

that this

is bliss

Future

When I grow up

my house will be filled with laughter

and wind chimes

Thoughts

I'm thinking about the way a certain headband makes me look like Cinderella

I'm thinking about college church and Andrew's message

I'm thinking about the way Jessa's laughter fills me with smiles

I'm thinking about the man I want to be married to

I'm thinking about high school

and theatre

drama

lightening bugs

I'm thinking about the way I try to avoid working out

make excuses

but once I actually do it, I like it

I'm thinking about SLU

teaching a class

being a freshman

and how it feels to be half-way done with college

what do I want to do with my life?

I'm thinking about life

and the sky

and the earth

my potted plants on the back porch, tiny toothpicks holding up the one stalk which might make it

I'm thinking about writing

my journal

the woman at CVS behind me in line

and her leopard print shirt

I'm thinking about camp, and Heather, and how much I love nature

little kids

and water

I'm thinking about Leah

summertime

the wonderful conversation with my father last night

all the poems inside me, waiting to be written

and the song I sing inside my head

It's Time to Stand Up

I need to say something. Ladies of today, yesterday, and the future: listen up. How many times have you heard the phrase, “well, boys will be boys” or “he just needs to sow his wild oats.” About a thousand? Well, I for one, and am sick of it.

Don’t get me wrong—I love it when a guy displays chivalry. I live in the South, where it is common courtesy for males to open doors, allow you to eat first, and pay when you go on dates. And I like it. It makes me feel nice and appreciated. All of that is well and good.

But it really upsets me when people try to excuse young men's occasional ridiculous behavior simply because of their gender. For example, when a guy "plays the field," leading more than one girl along, never staying in a relationship long enough to actually connect with a person, it's okay. But if young woman did such a thing, well, she's slapped with the label "slutty," (excuse my language) and parents warn their sons to steer clear!

I am the oldest of three children. I have a sister who is going to be a sophomore at UGA and a brother in high school. As an older sister, sometimes I worry about my brother. He's on the varsity football and soccer teams at school and hangs out with all the popular kids. Ever seen Mean Girls? As much as people deny it, public high school is basically exactly the same as that movie. Everyone really cares what people think of them, it's looked at as a bit "odd" if you hang out with people other than your designated "group," and it's all about who you are dating, the clothes you wear, and the car you drive. As I was mentioning these thoughts and worries to a friend, he reminds me that Reid has to figure out high school for himself. He tells me, "Reid's the youngest, and he's the only boy. He doesn't really have anyone to look up to. Besides, he's a guy, so give him some slack."

Oh. I wasn't aware that because Alyssa and I are girls, we are not role models. Apparently, even though I am the oldest in the family and definitely had no one to look up to as I left private, tiny Christian school and switched to public, very large high school, I had it easy. Because I'm a girl. I'm expected to have my wits about me at all time, to be organized, to act like a lady. Because I'm a girl.

I'm tired of excuses. I don't want to feel like women are left in the lurch. Did you know that women who hold the same position as a male colleague make as much as 25% less than that male? How many times has your best friend comforted you, saying, "Well, guys will be guys. He needs to get it out of his system." What about my system? What about all the systems of every single woman in the world?

We proclaim equality. Employers advertise their equality. And yet, I look around and it becomes clear that there is no true equality. Until society changes their mindset, women don't get "cut slack." I for one, cannot wait for the day when I am a role model for a younger male. When I can make the same amount as a male colleague. When I can "get it out of my system" or at least stop excusing others because of their gender. It's time. Live it. Proclaim it.

It's time to stand up.

Untitled

I fell in love with the moon

full and round

hanging low in the sky

waiting for me to notice his

deep red of maple's autumn

If I could Fall into a Photograph

I would canoe the amazon

or experience an African safari,

complete with elephants and lions

photographs in National Geographic.

I'd like to live in the top of a New England lighthouse

or permanently in the Caribbean

in a tiki hut, surrounded by blues and greens, clear clear water, and sunshine

I'd fall into a memory

or

into a childhood dream

I'd visit the beauty of New Zealand

and the reefs along Australia

Perhaps I'll live in a quaint house

white picket fence

with 2 kids and a dog

1950's sundress and a new washer and dryer

or a 1920's flapper bar

my favorite kind of music and dancing

living in bright colors

lipstick and short bobs

reds and blacks and silver that pop

gray and sepia-colored to the rest of the world

I'd fall into the Garden of Eden

or a prairie, golden wheat waving in the wind as far as they eye could see

I'd live in eternal Spring

laughter all around me

the sweet sounds of Spring, and nature

bubbling around my ears

I'd like to be in the lush green forest

or horseback riding for miles on a field where we could just run

or sitting on the ground, playing with wiggly, squirming, adorable puppies

laughing until my sides hurt

or bursting with awe and wonder at my maker

I'd visit a Pirate ship

the Great Wall of China

be an astronaut in space, looking down on our beautiful planet

or climb Mount Everest

or dance in a tribal rain dance

or go someplace quiet, with you

If i could fall into a photograph,

I'd fall into a memory

or

a childhood dream