helping, fixing, or serving

"Dont say that" you said.
"How can you say that?" you said.



"Helping, fixing and serving represent three different ways of seeing life. When you help, you see life as weak. When you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. Fixing and helping may be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul. When we help, we become aware of our own strength. But when we serve, we don’t serve with our strength; we serve with ourselves, and we draw from all of our experiences. Our limitations serve; our wounds serve; even our darkness can serve. My pain is the source of my compassion; my woundedness is the key to my empathy." 

-Helping, Fixing or Serving? 
By Rachel Naomi Remen
Shambhala Sun, September 1999

Please explain to me why golfing is a thing.

10/04/13
They put me in a room. 

Green walls.

Pictures of golf courses plastered all over.

The choice of green makes sense now.
Isn't that a little tacky?

Don't they know that golf is the worst sport in the history of all the sports?
Why do they think this would calm anyone down? 

Is this the foreshadowing of things to come?
Is this golf coursed plastered room going to become my life?
Because its scary how many parallels I could make.
So.dramatic.

Driving, preparing myself for this hour, I was going over in my head what they would ask me.
I've been asked these questions so many times before that I could literally write my own survey.
But how am I supposed to try and explain the weight of this last year in a 10 minute visit?
And how are they supposed to make an educated decision on what direction I should take in these 10 minutes, when it took me 7 months searching for an answer to finally get a hint at a direction.

Again, I trust the guidance that I've been given. But that doesn't stop my mind from racing a thousand miles an hour coming up with every possible outcome so as to make sure i am not blindsided.

I've definitely decided that the choice of green is extremely tacky.

7 years

Whether it's because she suddenly remembered the warnings so many had given her lately or 
because the "i'ts 430 am why the hell are you awake" stomach ache had kicked in. She rolled down her window, the negative two degree air spilling frantically into her car, and spit out her gum.

7 years? Really? I highly doubt that.
But if it ends up being true, my stomach is literally half full of swallowed gum. Not only mine, but others who couldn't find a place to throw the gum away so I kindly took it and swallowed it for them. A service really. Maybe that's why I cant eat a lot of food all at once? The capacity of food holding room has been decreased greatly by the gum.

What is this "scold madi for swallowing gum" month? At least 4 different people have given me their warnings and looks of disgust as I swallow the gum that's flavor has long since left. 

I find nothing wrong.
And on the rare occasion you see me spitting out my gum, know that its the result of peer pressure.
So much friggin pressure.  

*update*
It has come to my attention that people thought this post was some sort of metaphor & were thrown off when they found out the truth. I want to be very clear when I say this is a literal post. I really swallow my gum, sometimes others as well. Although if you take this post as a metaphor, it makes me seem really deep. So go right ahead and take it how you will. In the mean time, I will keep on swallowing all of the gum.

bed head // chocolate pie hangover

etta james - a staple

Sitting on the porch, getting some air. I watch as my aunt runs past and inside. The sound of a party. The music getting louder as the door opens- Etta James, Sunday Kind of Love - As the door closes the music dulls to a muted sound again. The walls from out here seem as if they could burst open. And I imagine if they did, love would come spilling out. An overwhelming love.

This holiday feels different. 

& that statement is starting to sound extremely repetitive in my life. But I think the source of variance comes from the eight months I spent away. Those eight months not only changed myself, it transformed my family. They walked it with me. It changed even the smallest parts of us. The mundane simply feels less mundane(y). 

So the holidays feel unusual - better.

Thanksgiving took the cake this year. I can't wait to see what happens come Christmas.

Remembrance // Gratitude

There is something holy that comes with the slow work of God. The difficult, and at times, traumatic parts of it all. The parts that in the moment, feel like you will never recover, or never understand the reason of why it came to be. Dark and and at a standstill. Holy.

Then you look around and see what you are compared to what you were. And when what you were - shown against what you currently are -is like looking at the colors black and white, a clear stark difference,
gratitude swells. 

My 17 year old of a sister gave a talk in church yesterday. Quoting President Eyring she said that 
“Remembrance is the seed of Gratitude”

So I want to remember it all. Agonizing or complete joy- I want it all.

I want to remember slow dancing to etta james with my dad.

That feeling of love that surrounds a new born baby.
That shame does not need to drive you.

That silence & holding still often tells me all I need to know.
That you can always feel Gods presence - even in the darkest hour.

That returning home early from a mission doesn't define who I am.

I want to remember that we were divinely designed.

That the God I believe is not a "one false move" but a "no matter what" God.
That compassion is the answer to every question.

& in the end, I want to be able to say that "I loved it all"
and truly mean it. 

the nephew

11/4/13
That baby.
He changed things.
He's changed us.

He's been here for a total of what, 72 hours?

I've been in the room for nearly all of my sisters births.
But this was different.
& maybe its because I am a different person, older and closer to that stage in my life.
but the feeling that was around that hospital room, and around our family this whole weekend, is one that I want to feel again.

He came out with barely a sqwak. Sleepy & exhausted from the journey it took to make it into our lives. Surrounded by family on that side saying goodbye, and surrounded by family on this side welcoming him into this world - all the people who love him the most - a very crowded room. A mixture of excitement, nerves, & love made it a sacred place to be.

Its in looking into this little boys face that perspective comes.

Baby Gage from Hannah Waters on Vimeo.