Gold Medal

I may know how to knit, but I don't know how to post my medal on my blog sidebar. I think I may go traditional until then and print one out and wear it hard copy on my hard copy sweater.

My love for you is
young and narrow
It sits with snapshots
taken tightly
It looms large, then
I conceal it
So you won't feel the need
to feed it

My prayers for you are
large and ageless
Wandering years and
patching loopholes,
my answer to the
splintered phrases
"I hold you, limited
by daylight".

Yeah; I'm done...2/23 @ 10:43 a.m.....

Sunday Hit Parade

Joel writes and plays stuff...check it out

Medal Hopeful

I got together with my homies this morning. Caffine and conversation help me set pace to finish the front and 6 inches of sleeve. I'm still well supplied with Valentine candy and I think I have enough yarn. I took matters into my own hands, ignoring the suggested yardage (gasp!) and cast on with color of choice. (I did put in an emergancy order of Lamb's Pride and I'll cross any treacherous dye lot bridges if I come to them.) Fool-hardy, I know. But champions take risks. Let's see if I am one!

If Frustrated and You Know It, Clap Your Hands...

Some voices out there are well listened to. Andrew Jones, by wisdom and tenure, has the loud-speaker today and it is a relief to me. Here, he has his say in the escalating puzzlement over the new forms of Meeting (read church). In a word, yes. In a word, Yes to all of us, however you describe yourself.

Some who read this my see yet more points to wrangle over. But I find grace in the midst of his words and I hope you can settle down again as I have.
As Rob Bell says in Velvet Elvis:
"If the gospel isn't good news for everybody, then it isn't good news for anybody"

Progress

Back completed.....avoiding injury.....on to the front!

Nature that Nurtures

This is a bit of research that has magical possibilities and poetic mysteries...
link to the NPR story-

Repenting

I am repenting of Judging. "Hi, my name is Suzanna and I am an Opiniaholic. I have been sober for 5 minutes."
I am trying Henri Nouwen's imagined life free from the need to judge anyone. Because it is a toxic drug (this preoccupation with being right), it keeps me from pain, joy, and being present with what is happening right now. Judgement snatches real life right out from under me.
I am not a doctor that needs to examine a patient. I am not a tax accountant that needs to keep track of numbers. I am not keeping the books of court or asked to manage a dangerous and complicated society.
So I am abdicating this self-built throne of observation and pronouncement. And when I try to crawl back onto it this afternoon, please people, remind me that I carry the "light burden of being Judged".
Forgive me for not enjoying your painting.