carpe lumen

elijah bossenbroek. just wow.

my shadow talks back

like weeds in a rose garden, the hands of the death cloud that recently hovers over many i care about, combined with sunday evening’s church message choke my heart:

30 days to live. THIRTY DAYS TO LIVE.
“our lives but a breath…”
1. confront humbly
2. love deeply
3. forgive irrationally

FORGIVE IRRATIONALLY. it’s number three that’s got me this very moment i sit. and yesterday. and the very instant those seed words first bore into me. instants to seconds, seconds grown to minutes. minutes to days, days bloom to the beanstalk of this evening.

i think i need to forgive people when i first meet them.
why?

because i know what it’s like to love (or try to love) broken merchandise.

i look in the mirror each day, and i walk alongside my shadow- i know what i am.
there are moments i can see the hoops i put people through, though truly unintentional…
there are instants i can see the moat i’ve put a mile out from my castle of comfort zone, though barely visible…

sometimes i think my shadow may see it more clearly than i, as it exclaims to me,
“what is it you run from, woman?”

what i’m trying to say is:
i’m broken.
i’m sorry.
(forgive me too?)

i LOVE you.

ruby 080130

but..!

i woke up suddenly this morning, right about 5 am, from a vivid dream. it was simple, and i remembered every detail as i blinked and watched the digital clock change from 4:59 to 5:00. i also knew then, that most all recollection would soon vanish, except perhaps the notion of a dream at all.. and so i awoke for a few sleepy moments, to write down the waking conversation of my since forgotten dream:

remove every ‘but’…
everything that comes after the ‘but…’
take it, write it on a piece of paper, then throw it away
-”palms down.”
remove it until there is only space left for God.

nearly 16 hours later, i sit and try to recall a familiar face, or even an instant from that dreamt exchange of words BUT…

the sleepy mystery of some messy handwriting from when the digital clock struck 5, is all that remains..

ruby 080129

la vida lluviosa

currently listening to: this

it is a rainy life:
…every rain drop dancing it’s unique ballet to one, single heartbeat
before falling
falling
falling
unto it’s end, a funeral: fixed death.

it is a rainy life:
…each droplet dancing it’s unique ballet to one, mended rhythm
before falling
falling
falling
unto it’s beginning, a birthday: assured life.

community:
“i” am nothing special. but we, WE are something spectacular…

( i a m S O s m a l l . . . )

ruby 080118

dear world, i am a doormat

yesterday, i spent much of the day in bed, crying. it’s been a long week. a long yesterday. a long life.

(wait a minute, of course it’s been! hasn’t it been for us all? what right do i have to complain?)

i layed pathetically in bed and wrote a page in my non-journal, just repeating the words,

“i just want to forget“ over and over and over.

i filled up an entire page before i realized all i really want to forget is the pain, not the faces.

i love these people, and it’s their pain that makes looking at their beautiful faces unbearable at times.

 

perhaps because their pain so perfectly reflects my own?

so i just prayed for sleep, just to sleep off enough of the world’s pain, and self-inflicted torture, to get up and dive back in.

God has given me things i’ve asked for.. intertwined answered prayers in ways unimaginable.

ways that have broken me, mended me, and left me absolutely speechless in the face of Love.

my grandmother told me a few days ago i should attempt to write of the stories of lately, the miracles.

but i’ve just felt so small. small and frozen in awe of His movement to put words into action,

words that could never truly reflect the Subject. and who am i to tell another’s story?

that was yesterday.

today, i woke up today to the alarm of my grandmother’s words,

“just try…,” echoing in my ear and pressing on my heart.

 

today, i found myself ‘trying’ before i realized i was…

____________________________

shhh you hear that? there is NO noise in my house. i can actually hear my thoughts! here is what they are saying:

about ten minutes ago, i received a phone call, one that made my heart explode. i answered the unfamiliar number, only to hear a pre-recorded message on the line saying “you have won a trip to costa rica! 4 days, 5 nights, and you don’t have to do absolutely anything! costa rica can be yours…”

at that point i hung up and blurted something out. i tend to do this sometimes, usually it’s something i wish i could take back. usually it’s something that spills from somewhere deep and ugly inside, that i didn’t realize was stewing. usually it’s something negative or selfish or rash. usually… but today, it brought glory to The Most High. today it was love speaking. the words blurted were these:

“you can keep your costa rica, i have my home and everything i ever asked for, everything i need… right here”

well, i meant it. i feel positively joyful today. it could be a manic phase (half joking), but i know why. i realized i really DO have everything i’ve ever asked for: in ways i couldn’t have imagined, in ways i lack words to fully explain, in ways i’m sure i don’t fully comprehend.

today i had a conversation with a friend, a familiar one where the friend is worried about me being a ‘doormat’ or ‘taken advantage of’. i know my friends care, and i absolutely adore them for it. but who is the gage of the doormat? this world?

my mind went to john 13, to the very words i feel asleep to last night where Jesus washes the disciples’ feet and tells them

14 Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. 15 I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. 16 I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.

so why is my heart doing jumping jacks for joy?

not because i won a trip to some tropical escape. not because there is no noise in my ‘house’ at the moment. i’m joyful because for a moment my ’selfish goggles’ have been removed, and i able to really see. i’m joyful because the noise that normally resides here is what makes my house a ‘home’. i love these people* and wouldn’t trade them for anything. not even costa rica.

now if that falls into the world’s definition of doormat, i graciously accept the title.

* these people refers to way more than those in the confines the 4 walls of this apartment i ‘reside’ in

ruby 080114