Poem of the Day

Carpet

I saw once in Jaipur an upper room

filled with rows of boys

embroidering saris

stretched taut on open frames

kneeling

their eyes squinting close as the golden thread

vanished and appeared in the silk.

In the room below, a wiry man

flung water from buckets over

freshly-woven carpet.

Whiskered, shirtless,

he brushed the water with

a bundle of reeds

to open the fibers.

Vibrant blues and crimsons

bloomed through the soap suds

with each swishing stroke.

The factory owner surveyed his kingdom

with knees spread wide

lauding the workmanship

driving a bargain

dressing the floors of my home.

His belly ballooned over its

gleaming belt buckle

oiled shoes two-stepping

back from the sludge.

The man with the reeds

bent sharply at the waist

peering closely at the golden weave

refusing to lift his eyes.

Poem of the Day

In honor of my favorite time of day...

Compline

Sleep
is falling
off the bright
ledge of the world
into the arms
of God.

Ordinary

Without apologies or explanation, lets just say I'm venturing into the blogging world again.  This time without any agenda but to share the weight and wonder I keep finding ordinary life.  Without further ado, here is the first venture, my poem of the day.

 Public Library

There is a woman in the corner

beneath the plate-glass window

she clutches her belongings in a canvas sack

its seam slowly unraveling

she mutters stories to herself

and any who will hear

as if she were the children's librarian

gathering a semi-circle of bodies at her feet

hands animated, eyes laughing

as if she were the book itself

the afternoon sun

spilling upon her open pages

I am sitting on the red carpet two shelves over

reading Rita Dove

I cannot hold on to the poem in my hands

I hear only this poem in my ears

47 Days.

That's right. I've been stateside for 47 days. The past month and a half are what I am referring to as forced rest. Because, you see, I'm not so sure I want to be resting anymore. I'm starting to get a little bit antsy. But God knows I need this time to recover from a beautiful but exhausting six months. Not to mention the exhausting four years prior to that. So the fact that I haven't yet found a job has been a blessing. Its provoked good self-reflection, prayer, and joyful times with family and friends. And I have eaten a lot of Bodo's. As a matter of fact, I've done quite a few things! Here are just a few:

Visiting friends in NoVa. Highlights: Anna's baby belly, and my conversion to being a soy milk drinker, thanks to Chris. The Lowlight? Driving to Dulles Airport during the Marine Corps Marathon.

Girls' Getaway to Colorado Springs with my sister. Highlights: Illegal scrambling in Garden of the Gods, Dunkin' Donuts, knitting hats at midnight. Lowlight: Two hours on the runway in Denver, waiting to be de-iced.

Graves Mountain Apple Festival. Highlights: Time with the fam. Apple doughnuts. Lowlight: It. was. cold.

North Carolina! Highlights: Seeing old friends. Uptown Life Group. Wandering around Greensboro with Brooke. Lowlight: Culture Shock at South Park Mall. Tears ensued.

Blackfrier's THeater in Staunton. Highlights: Good company. Good coffee. Elizabethan theater does "Total eclipse of the heart." Lowlight: Kline's closes at 9:30?!

Like I said, it's been good.

Thoughts on returning to America

1. Indian cockroaches keep crawling out of my clothing. I hope this doesn't get me in trouble with US Immigration; they already confiscated my British apple.

2. Virginia apples are so delicious.

3. Dear Old Navy: Thank you for saying that long tops and bright colors are in style. I just might survive here if you would only turn off your AC.

4. I am cold.

5. Dear exercise-obsessed people at Gold's Gym: maybe you should take up rice farming.

6. Dear Silver Honda Civic: I am so sorry I was ever embarrassed about the big ol' dent in your door. I have realized how nice you really are. And I can't remember the last time I was in a car without ten other people.

7. Would it be totally innapropriate to walk around town in a sari?

8. I can call people without having to calculate the time difference!

9. I am in love with thirty people on the other side of the world.

10. I think about them fifty times a day.

11. I'm not who I was.

Abundant August

August has been busy--abundant in both joy and stress. Typhoid fever, malaria, scabies, scarlet fever, TB...I've been getting a crash course in tropical medicine! But by far, the best part of the month was a visit from my Momma! Y'all, she is amazing. She ate with her hands, slept under a mosquito net, survived rickshaw rides, and had some really amazing and productive time with the kids here. I dare you to show me a more supportive, brave mom! Plus, she took lots of pictures with her camera, so now I have photos of myself to prove to you that I am really here!



Medicine Time!


We went for a walk but discovered the path was impassibly flooded!


My housemates


The view from my (former) back window

Making fast friends


Recently, some of the teenaged girls borrowed my camera to have a little fun. They took lots of pictures, including this:


And this:


and this...




I love that one of the boys is completely airborne


And of course I couldn't resist a picture of me in a sari. It doesn't come out every day, you know.


And finally, some pictures of yet another glorious monsoon sunset.

I wish that I could tell you...

I have regretted more than once how little I’ve written here about my time in India. I could give a number of reasons, like inconsistent internet, slow computers, or the time I washed my flash drive in a bucket with my dirty laundry. But beyond all of these things I am grappling with thoughts and emotions, experiences and memories that are too close to the heart to reveal to you fully. I’m fearful, perhaps, that if I told you what I wish I could that it would be too heavy a burden for you to bear. Because I’m not certain you want to hear it, or what you would do with the knowledge that I now carry.

How can I explain to you the things that confront me daily? Like the time that one of the women here, who was rescued from sex trafficking by IJM, asked me to teach her to read and she picked up the book in front of me, which happend to be Good News About Injustice. Or how about one of our boys, who has half the local town rallied against him because they learned he is HIV positive and they don’t want him in school with their children. Or the signs of abuse I discover on the bodies of children when I apply scabies lotion. How can I explain the chills that run over my body when a child tells me the horrors of living on a railway platform? Or a child, who in the delirium of typhoid fever, calls out all night long for the mother she lost long ago. Or a boy who was infected with HIV by the blood transfusion that saved his life when he was a baby. Or the confusion on a child’s face when he asks, “how long do I have to take this medicine?” and I answer. “For the rest of your life.”

How can I share the intense faith of children who have faced every kind of evil, yet trust in Jesus with their whole beings? Who pray desperately for rain in the midst of a drought, and God sends rain? What words do I have to tell about the love that God gives me daily, which reaches far beyond my own capacity to love?

Its not that I have nothing to write about, its that I just can’t find the words…