the title of this post is french, i promise.
also, i'm tired of blogger...(i almost typed blooger. any suggestions on what that would mean??)
so, i'm switching to wordpress. and the best thing is, i imported all of my previous posts from this site, so really everything looks the same, except a different layout and different website. basically, the content hasn't changed. go here
merci.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
histoire
she had dyed blonde hair with natural white highlights, glasses and a maroon sweater. her voice was calming and she spoke, mildly affected with a southern accent. she told her story.
she said there were always "others" in his life, even after they married. he thought that was all women were good for, sleeping with. so they divorced when she was 46 and he moved out, of the state. she had heard he remarried someone from back home but that didn't last more than 10 years. she knew this because she would see his brother and sister-in-law around town. they rarely spoke. and while he had moved away, remarried and divorced again, she'd had offers she continually turned down. for her, there was no one else. "i remember one day" she said, "watching a movie on tv. i don't remember the name of it; i never have. but the story in the movie was about my life. he cheated on her and they split up. but she forgave him." and that's when she knew, i suppose, that she had to forgive her husband. 20 years after the divorce, she found his number through a family member. "i called him, and when i finally told him who it was, there was just silence." she paused, for effect. "he told me he didn't think i'd ever speak to him again. and that's when i told him i called to say i wasn't holding a grudge." and they talked, and caught up, and eventually she moved up to where he lived, and she's 71 now but they've been remarried for three years. it's quite beautiful actually.
she said there were always "others" in his life, even after they married. he thought that was all women were good for, sleeping with. so they divorced when she was 46 and he moved out, of the state. she had heard he remarried someone from back home but that didn't last more than 10 years. she knew this because she would see his brother and sister-in-law around town. they rarely spoke. and while he had moved away, remarried and divorced again, she'd had offers she continually turned down. for her, there was no one else. "i remember one day" she said, "watching a movie on tv. i don't remember the name of it; i never have. but the story in the movie was about my life. he cheated on her and they split up. but she forgave him." and that's when she knew, i suppose, that she had to forgive her husband. 20 years after the divorce, she found his number through a family member. "i called him, and when i finally told him who it was, there was just silence." she paused, for effect. "he told me he didn't think i'd ever speak to him again. and that's when i told him i called to say i wasn't holding a grudge." and they talked, and caught up, and eventually she moved up to where he lived, and she's 71 now but they've been remarried for three years. it's quite beautiful actually.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
frustré
many things are simultaneously frustrating me.
apparently, the french language interprets the word frustration as frustration. it's not even different.
also, i might be going crazy. i gave up writing for lent and sometimes it was forgettable but most days thoughts would inhabit my mind's eye (see: josh ritter) like fireflys in a field. the near inexpressible frustration (i say near because i wouldn't even bother talking about it if it truly was inexpressible) at not being able to write down lines or paragraphs or cliches or truths pales in comparison to now having the freedom to write but no subject with which to begin.
maybe i haven't learned my lesson.
maybe i will fast again.
maybe, i will become a renowned writer by rumour only, and never actually publish anything of importance but be known as that person who is constantly fasting from writing because she is actually too brilliant to pen even a single word. people will search libraries and bookstores for any paper with my name as author. and the only piece of prose they will find will be about a prism in a lamp store with no hope of its potential until one day it is placed exactly where it was intended and sees through the reflection of the sun a rainbow, which, it finally realizes, is the very essence of its potential. they will find this, of course, and see my name at the bottom, next to audrey brooks (see: my grandmother) but they will not believe it is really my writing. in fact, they will swear it cannot be my work. and they will never know the effort my grandmother put into publishing a story from her granddaughter's college writing class.
i hope i can be even slightly that elusive someday.
frustration #3. when anyone says fustration instead of frustration. high school history is all i have to say about that.
finally, i miss my brothers. that is frustrating me a lot right now.
goodnight.
apparently, the french language interprets the word frustration as frustration. it's not even different.
also, i might be going crazy. i gave up writing for lent and sometimes it was forgettable but most days thoughts would inhabit my mind's eye (see: josh ritter) like fireflys in a field. the near inexpressible frustration (i say near because i wouldn't even bother talking about it if it truly was inexpressible) at not being able to write down lines or paragraphs or cliches or truths pales in comparison to now having the freedom to write but no subject with which to begin.
maybe i haven't learned my lesson.
maybe i will fast again.
maybe, i will become a renowned writer by rumour only, and never actually publish anything of importance but be known as that person who is constantly fasting from writing because she is actually too brilliant to pen even a single word. people will search libraries and bookstores for any paper with my name as author. and the only piece of prose they will find will be about a prism in a lamp store with no hope of its potential until one day it is placed exactly where it was intended and sees through the reflection of the sun a rainbow, which, it finally realizes, is the very essence of its potential. they will find this, of course, and see my name at the bottom, next to audrey brooks (see: my grandmother) but they will not believe it is really my writing. in fact, they will swear it cannot be my work. and they will never know the effort my grandmother put into publishing a story from her granddaughter's college writing class.
i hope i can be even slightly that elusive someday.
frustration #3. when anyone says fustration instead of frustration. high school history is all i have to say about that.
finally, i miss my brothers. that is frustrating me a lot right now.
goodnight.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Saturday, February 2, 2008
confess::tion.
the fear of being superfluous consistently speaks louder than the fear of not being heard at all.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
being alive
sometimes i think back to periods of my life when i felt alive. times when conversations had depth, things were done with a sense of direction and meaning, and i lived life on purpose. most notably, there was the absence of fear. each day was lived fully because i wasn't worried...about tomorrow, being good enough, saying the right things. and i guess i've slowly realized that that state of being was lived out because i was in love with Jesus. maybe that's what He means when He says things like faith like a child, and having an easy yoke. all He wants us to do is love Him.
but personal experience also tells me we don't continually live life with that euphoric sense of perfection, and if, by God's grace, we reach eternal and continual hope, it is only because of the meshing of our daily choice to embrace it and his power to create it. hope, i mean. because there's the heartbeating emotion of david, the mistakes of moses, the thorn in paul's flesh and the cowardice of peter.
and i know i'm not expected to be perfect, because there's a difference between holiness obtained and holiness pursued. and there's a difference in motivation too.
how i live my life by pursuing holiness out of legalism looks a lot different than how i live my life by pursuing holiness out of love. the endings look a bit different too, i think.
p.s. i'm relearning to live in pursuit of love
but personal experience also tells me we don't continually live life with that euphoric sense of perfection, and if, by God's grace, we reach eternal and continual hope, it is only because of the meshing of our daily choice to embrace it and his power to create it. hope, i mean. because there's the heartbeating emotion of david, the mistakes of moses, the thorn in paul's flesh and the cowardice of peter.
and i know i'm not expected to be perfect, because there's a difference between holiness obtained and holiness pursued. and there's a difference in motivation too.
how i live my life by pursuing holiness out of legalism looks a lot different than how i live my life by pursuing holiness out of love. the endings look a bit different too, i think.
p.s. i'm relearning to live in pursuit of love
Saturday, January 19, 2008
telecommunications
a few months ago i stumbled upon a blog via relevant magazine. their online "magazine" publishes reader written articles and at the end of each piece is a brief bio, provided by the author. this particular article caught my attention and so i followed the link at the end to read more by joshua longbrake. so should you.
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