The Choice

All this is raw.

Bible study ended eight minutes ago, and I have got to do this before I move on with my night (and believe me, I had plans)!

I had the realization the other day - and was smugly ruminating in it - that I have a hard time trusting the sincerity of men, especially in spiritual matters. Sorry, guys. I thought I had dug a lot of that out of me while reading Captivating by John and Staci Eldridge.

Anyway, here's what Bible Study was about: Matt 7:1-6 - judging. (We're stepping through Joyce Meyer's Battlefield of the Mind.) And here's what hit me between the eyes: OFFENSE IS A CHOICE and WHAT I AM OFFENDED BY USUALLY HAS DEEP ROOTS IN WHAT I DON'T LIKE ABOUT MYSELF.

A direct quote from my notes: " I want people o think/believe/know I am sincere - why I have so much trouble believing the sincerity of others."

I have a hard time not scoffing quietly in my heart when certain people pray aloud - people I must have at some point decided weren't holy enough! LORD, forgive me! I have been hard, non-receptive, untrusting and haughty. God, show me how to repent with meaning and have LOVE take root instead.

Prov. 4:23, "Above all else guard your heart, for it is the well spring of life."

And I wonder why things aren't going the way I'd plan (remember those big plans I mentioned - need some prayer if I'm actually going to follow through)! God, shut me up! Help me listen to others, not to talk, but to learn their heart - to accept them as human and faulty and beautiful. Talking is my job, but I have got to change the way I do it - am I speaking with utter (complete and vocal) love???

Love always believes the best in others (I Cor. 13: 4-8 - may my responses be with patience, kindness, not pride or boasting, without being rude or seeking something I want, rejoicing in truth, always protecting, always TRUSTING, always hoping, never defeated).

I will buy peaches

[Showers Plaza Farmers' Market - earlier today in Bloomington - inspired this unfinished piece.]

A half-dozen earocorn on my hip,
wild-haired children of sun and rain and earth.
I buy tomatoes just so I can hold them,
those secret-shrouding ruby jewels, one per palm.

I move through the crowd
like the wide-eyed babies in strollers (toes fat and umbrellaed
like the blackberries) and their older peach-fuzzed siblings
who marvel at guitar songs
and men in funny hats.

Something aches to start speaking to my brownpaper wrapped cornbaby,
to point out the faces in the zenias
and the flowers in the people.
Tell her how all the red
and yellow and brown and green
isn't by chance. Look at the intent
spoken to the heart of the gladiola,
enough for future generations. See,
carrots and potatoes are cousins
in their love of dirt, but their unique strivings for life
are both needed gifts to our bodies. Believe Someone
put this here for you.

But I am happy to breathe in
summer through the skin
of an imperfect peach.
A sacrifice of its own right,
calling up the child I was
and giving life to the one I will carry.

[I though about titling this entry - and this poem - "When I am pregnant, I will buy peaches." I didn't want the p-word to flip my mom out, she should know by now what I mean. Comments? Other title options hidden in there? How should "umbrella" be treated if I want and -ed at the end? I know my writing hasn't been real consistent. Thank you for visiting anyway! (Even today I'm mainly writing because I should be doing something else.)]

Detours

Moving, working, 4th of July partying, working, working, church, working, driving, working, getting ready for Vacation Bible School, swapping voicemail messages, praying, working, cleaning, volunteering, working, feeding the cat, helping Hidi get a tow truck, praying, working, going back to work. Now you're caught up. Sad the working thing out weighed the praying thing. But you'll also notice that in all honestly, BLOGGING is no where to be seen.

This is a detour notice.

Next week is VBS. I've been (yes) working like a nut to get ready to have the four days off the same week our live fair broadcasts begin. So. I likely won't be back until late next week. I'll return with some poetry, though, I promise. I have to get ready for a women's writing retreat in August - sooo very excited!